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suzannahnatters · 10 months

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Flash Fic: The Gardens of Hades

The gardens of Hades are barren when I come.

He snatches me from the sunlit lands and carries me to the underworld, a dark chasm lit only by the distant flames of Tartarus. His house is of black marble, and as he drags me through the shadowed halls, I try to empty my mind of everything but this moment.

I know the stories. I know that the gods have cruel desires.

Instead, he opens the door to a walled garden. A black pool glitters at the centre. Naked sticks rattle in the earth, but nothing lives here.

“This is yours, Lady Persephone,” he says.

Then he leaves.

I’m just glad Hades leaves me alone, so I don’t ask questions. I infuse the pool with light and call grass and asphodel from the dead soil.

When he visits again, he comes with a gift.

“I have brought you a servant.” A veiled shade follows him into the garden.

I wonder if he wants me to thank him for giving me a slave when I once had friends, a desert when I once had flowers.

I wonder why he took me.

Hades inspects a young shrub. “What’s this?”

“A pomegranate,” I say.

For a moment, I think he’s going to speak. Then he swallows the impulse and leaves.

On the day my pomegranate tree blooms, I find the shade sitting beneath the tree wiping her eyes with her veil. She says her first word: Springtime.

Little by little, she remembers how to speak. She talks about finishing this garden and moving on, the underworld blooming under my touch.

She doesn’t remember her name, so I call her Lethe.

My pomegranate tree bears fruit, but as I peel it open Lethe grabs my wrist. “If you eat, you will become a creature of his realm.”

I hurl the fruit at the wall.

It’s only a matter of time till my mother finds me.

Hades keeps sending gifts: servants, seeds, pruning-hooks and shovels. As the garden fills with life, so do the shades. The third time he visits, he dismisses the servants and looks at me with tired eyes. I wonder if he is always this sad.

“Your mother grieves without hope. Crops and men die, and no one sacrifices to the gods.” He sighs. “I am to send you back.”

Back to the home he took from me. Back to mother and wind and sunlight, but first I have one question.

“Why did you take me?” I spit.

He is the lord of the dead. He cannot sugar his words, as other gods might. “I need you,” he admits.

I think of Lethe, and to my surprise, I understand. I am springtime, but he is pain. No wonder the dead suffer, if that is all he can give them.

Before he can stop me, I rip open a pomegranate, and the juice is sour on my tongue.

The gardens of Hades are barren when I come.

But where I tread, they bloom. ---- I wrote this flash fic for the Pilgrim Artists' Festival, a small Christian festival of art, music, and words which runs every year in Tasmania's Huon Valley. The theme for the 2019 festival was "Grief and Hope", and I at once thought of Dorothy Sayers' poem, Rex Doloris, which imagines Hades as the King of Grief. This is the 500-word short story that resulted. I'd been looking for a way of retelling the story for nearly as long as I can remember, and this ficlet is the first step in that process. I can promise you that it won't be the last.

The 2023 Pilgrim Artists' Festival is now open for submissions of fiction, non-fiction, poetry, art, and music from Christian, Nicene-Creed-affirming artists, including children and adults, anywhere in the world. This year's prompt is "Beauty in the Everyday" and there is a 500 word limit on literary entries. There are also dozens of prizes available - check them out and submit here.

#writing #ficlet #my fic #short story #flash fiction #short stories #retelling #greek mythology #classical mythology #hades x persephone #hades and persephone #my books #retellings #short fiction #Pilgrim Artists Festival

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withlovefromolympus · 1 year

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greek gods and how they love

what I hc as the gods’ love languages (giving and receiving). i had so much fun putting this together. enjoy!

the five love languages are:

physical touch

acts of service

words of affirmation

quality time

gift giving

Zeus:

giving: physical touch. let’s not even kid ourselves on this one. Zeus is very hands-on with the people he loves, from friendly bear hugs to fucking. not gonna beat around the bush there.

receiving: words of affirmation. the way to Zeus’ heart is praise, whether it be about how he’s a great king or any sort of compliment, he’ll take it. it means people approve and respect of him as a god and that’s something incredibly important to him

Hera:

giving: words of affirmation / quality time. a compliment from hera means a lot because she’s very selective about what she considers praise-worthy, but she really means what she says

receiving: acts of service. she works so damn hard, and while she usually just likes doing things herself so she knows they’re done right, she appreciates the initiative and thought when something’s done for her

Demeter:

giving and receiving: quality time. there’s really nothing she loves more than spending time with her family. (i hc that a good part of the reason she demanded persephone spend part of the year topside wasn’t even she hated hades; she just wanted to see and be with her daughter)

Poseidon:

giving: gift giving as acts of service. he’ll get you things, sure, but it’s more so that he’ll help you accomplish non-tangible goals without you even knowing. want that job as a dog-walker? suddenly you’re getting tons of client calls, and he’s behind it all

receiving: physical touch. this man likes to cling to amphitrite within the privacy of their home and his siblings give him lots of hugs when he’s down :)

Hades:

giving: it’s hard to tell, but it’s actually a subcategory of words of affirmation. silent approval. he applauds things he loves, just much more quietly than other gods do. (he’s more expressive when it comes to persephone)

receiving: quality time. He’s busy most of the time and his job gets fucking tiring, so relaxing with friends and family is good. He doesn’t want to actually do anything but just hang out

Hestia:

giving: all five at once, which is super rare for someone to have, but easy for her. she’ll push her own needs aside to spend time with people she loves and gives them treats to eat and encouraging words while rubbing their backs

receiving: all five forms are equally accepted and loved by her. she has no favorite.

Athena:

giving: words of affirmation. like hera, compliments are scarce because of her perfectionist mindset/most people aren’t very smart to her. people will know they’ve made it (into her heart) when she shows appreciation to their way of thinking

receiving: quality time. (in the sense that if someone wants to do one of her favorite pastimes like read a book / do a puzzle / practice combat with her, she adores that)

Hermes:

giving: acts of service. you may say he’s hardwired to serve since he’s the main messenger for the gods, but he simply enjoys caring for others and making sure they’re well-provided for if that means they’re happy

receiving: gift giving. being the middle man when someone needs something, he often misses out on getting things himself, so he loves it when people surprise him with something just for him

Apollo:

giving: acts of service / physical touch. don’t let his smooth-talking charisma trick you into thinking he thinks he’s too cool to care. as god of healing and prophecy and as a protector of youth, it’s very important that he makes sure his loved ones are safe. also, he likes giving friendly claps on the back

receiving: words of affirmation. he really enjoys being told how awesome he is, not because he needs his ego stroked, but because he puts his heart into caring, so knowing he’s doing a good job is great to him

Artemis:

giving: quality time. her huntresses get special one-on-one time with her so she can check in on them. she feels like her family are dumbasses, but she makes sure she shows up for them even when she doesn’t always feel like it

receiving: acts of service. it’s a loyalty to her thing. if someone accidentally messes up while doing so, she won’t get mad, but she needs to know she can still trust and respect the person 100%. that makes all the difference.

Ares:

giving: it’s hard to spot because he’s not very touchy feely unless he’s deeply in love. you have to look for it. overall it’s physical touch but not just sexual. he’s very protective and possessive of the ones he loves. he won’t hesitate to punch a dude who’s messing with. He’ll roughhouse around with loved ones (because that’s what he’s best at), but he’s also careful not to push the limits too far

receiving: physical quality time. he receives love when people want to do something physical with him — sex, combat, sports, ect — anything that engages his body and links the enjoyment of it to a particular person.

Aphrodite:

giving: she can tell who responds best to what kind of love, and she’s pretty proficient in all five categories for this reason.

receiving: physical touch, gift giving, and words of affirmation. sounds a little superficial? Maybe, but it’s what really moves her. as goddess of passion and sex, she needs physical touch. gifts show her that a conscious choice was made to pick something she’d like. and of course she needs reassurance that she’s still loved, so compliments aren’t always an ego thing with her

Hephaestus:

giving: gift giving (as acts of service). much like Hermes, his expressions of love are built into him. to the untrained eye, all his work seems equally breathtaking (since he doesn’t want anything he makes to be bad quality), but it’s his attitude and eagerness while crafting is where you can tell how much he cares about the recipient of his handiwork.

receiving: at first, nobody could figure out what made him feel loved since he likes to be alone, but it’s surprisingly quality time. though a bit socially awkward, he’s much more warm and friendly around those who show that they like (being around) him for more than just his work

Dionysus:

giving: gift giving. sharing wine and giving silks and friendship with him itself are all gifts. he’s here for a good time and wants the people he loves to have the things he likes and the things (he thinks) they need

receiving: acts of service. he traveled far and wide to get more followers, so he’s always taken devotion seriously. showing trust and expressing commitment to him is incredibly special to him, even more than partying

if you’ve made it this far, have a cookie and thank you for hearing me out <3

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xkingpin-a · 2 years

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AFFECTIONATE AND AFFIRMING PROMPTS

@midtownshope said: ❝ you don’t ever have to worry with me. i’m here for good. ❞

he’s shaking, just ever so slightly. he’s sitting there, edge of the bed, staring down at his hands. his bloody hands. covered in the blood of a problem and nuisance, sure....but still. it had been so long since he’d had to tap into this side of him. the side he didn’t really like or want. the side that was unfortunately necessary for his line of work. something he never wanted to let gwen see -- but unfortunately she’d come home earlier than expected from visiting her mother and well....he hadn’t had time to come down from it all. to gather himself up and wash it off and just...try and go back to normal.

gwen had found him in the bedroom and come rushing over to assess things, but he was quick to assure her that he was fine. that this wasn’t his blood. he couldn’t look at her. how could dom bare to look at her face and see the likely disgust and horror of all of this? he wouldn’t blame her, either. her words though, come as a bit of a shocker. so much so, that dom quickly turned his head back over to look down at her face.

you don’t ever have to worry with me. i’m here for good. god, he did not deserve her. dom was well aware of that fact but truly, in this moment, it shone brighter than ever. a man like him, a monster....did not deserve someone so pure and full of light. but that is what she was. his light. in the darkness that was the underworld he lived in. the persephone to his hades, as it were. swallowing he moved, going to reach for her face before stopping himself. “....i....i need to clean up.” he said gently, clearing his throat softly before giving her a serious look. “and once....once i do that....i plan on telling you over and over how i absolutely don’t deserve you....”

#midtownshope #anyway have this snap xo

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stilltenseaboutit · 7 years

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i think about persephone more now. leave his side, and lose my peace. go out into a winter world and make the flowers grow, bring the harvest around, feed the trees so they grow strong. it takes the light and life out if me. it makes me thin.

i will not say you are the only thing that has ever brought me peace, because i will not build shrines to you. you are flesh and blood, like i am, and i will be realistic. i want to dwell in that realm with you.

know, though, that you bring me peace like nothing else. i have never felt my own light as i do curled in the dark next to you. i have no explanations for it. i won’t put names to it, though i know them. when i go into that winter world, it is easier to call the sun now that i know you. it’s easier to make the flowers grow.

-///- when i go across the river. grey.b

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sector-i-closed · 3 years

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She's a Goddess?

Hades!Yunho x Persephone!reader x Hades!Seonghwa since I decided to do another of this au with 2 out of 8 makes one king

Warning: Smut, also use of c*ck sl*t among other things

You were becoming increasingly anxious of the fact that in a few days you would be leaving the place that you called home in the underworld that you had grown to love.

The world outside reminded you of too many things that you wished to forget but to your disappointment it was arranged for you to visit the outside world and cohabitate with your mother for six months out of the year.

That knowledge in and of itself made you feel extra stressed and today you were extremely antsy while Yunho played fetch with Cerberus, or Cerbie as the rulers affectionately called him.

The tired three headed hound eventually coming to you to check on you and get it's pats on all of it's heads before going back to his outpost at the gates to take a nap and be on guard to prevent souls from escaping the underworld, leaving the lavish living room behind with you and Yunho.

You fidgeted nervously as you sat on the plush velvet couch beside Yunho, "Are you feeling unwell, love?" The tall male asked with furrowed brows as he watched your pouty expression and inability to keep still.

"I'm fine. Not looking forward to being away from here though..." You sighed softly and nearly became breathless from the mere touch when Yunho's large hand moved to take your dainty hand into his own.

"We all aren't looking forward to you leaving either. It's never something that we can get used to and we always eagerly await your return, Y/N." Yunho stated calmly, contrary to what you felt inside of yourself.

Your jaw clenched from anxiety without intending to, groaning to yourself as you held his hand, "I appreciate it greatly but I don't want to think about it right now..." You admitted softly, glancing down at the male's lap yearningly, being unable to state what you wanted at the moment.

"What would you like to think about?" Yunho quirks an eyebrow at you, studying you closely as you felt your face heat up dramatically.

"I- I just..." You trailed off in a whiny tone, as the weight of his hand rested on your thigh.

"Use your words, kitten. I might get the wrong idea if you don't tell me what you're wanting to think about." His voice comes out dark and steady while keeping his gaze fixed on you directly.

You huffed out loud, uncertain how to say what you wanted without being so straightforward about it.

Finally you gave up and spoke what was at the forefront of your mind, "I feel a little stressed and I want to suck your dick..."

Yunho offers an amused smirk as he squeezes your thigh, "True to our cock slut's nature~" He chuckles low and darkly.

Your eyes lower in embarrassment and immediately afterwards he grabs your chin, forcing you to look him directly in his smothering dark orbs, his aura intimidating and chilling and you were already trembling like a leaf.

"Did you think that you could just tell me that without following through with it little one? Down on your knees in front of daddy and unfasten my pants. You know what to do." Yunho growls out an order, to which you immediately drop to your knees and scrabble at his pants clumsily as he watched.

A wave of embarrassment and arousal washing over you while the male teased you for your eagerness. Eventually you freed his semi hard length from his confining clothes.

Without hesitation you leaned forward while holding eye contact with him, swirling your tongue across his velvety tip and collecting the heady essence on your tongue.

"Are you only going to play around when you know I'm anticipating~?" Yunho quirks an eyebrow while you drooled uncontrollably on his length.

A soft whimper leaving you while you eased yourself down to accommodate his hard length.

"That's my good cock slut. I knew you would get the feel for it shortly." Yunho chuckled evilly, watching you take as much of him into your mouth and down your throat as possible, drool dribbling out of your mouth embarrassingly and pooling on his skin.

"What a messy little baby~ She's a goddess?" Seonghwa purrs smoothly from behind Yunho as he stops to watch you suck the latter's dick.

"Mmph!" You cried out as one of Yunho's hands quickly finds your hair and pulls at your scalp roughly, coaxing moisture to seep from your eyes and down your cheeks.

"That's what I thought but her true nature is a cock slut." Yunho declares as he guides your head movements to bob at the precise rhythm to get him off.

"See~? Like this. I'll allow you to take it from here, little one." Yunho released your hair to watch you pleasure him, "You're doing much better now, pup." You allow yourself to moan in pleasure as you hollowed your cheeks around his member.

"She's always been a great learner when it's something that she wants." Seonghwa comments as he discreetly strokes himself in his pants while watching you give Yunho head.

Your throat burned from the stretch of the intrusion disregarding your gag reflex, the thickness of his shaft making it difficult for you to accommodate him but you managed until he came down your throat with a masculine groan that brought goosebumps to the surface of your skin.

"You did so well, pup." Yunho smiled at you while observing your flushed face as you pulled off of him and swallowed down the hot, saline essence that lingered in your mouth.

"My turn now. Come here, doll~ No mess on my clean trousers or I will punish you." Seonghwa murmurs in a seductive tone, eyes narrowed while watching you meekly approach him and lower yourself to your knees in front of him.

You surprised yourself with how steady your fingers were when you undid his pants, freeing up his hard length and going down on him almost immediately, "Hold on... It's meant to be enjoyed. I know our cock slut is eager but it's almost pathetic how eager you are for it."

You whine around his shaft, eyes widening almost comically when Seonghwa begins to fuck into your mouth roughly, "Just for daddy, right?" You whimper affirmatively and tear up, moaning out in pleasure with each stroke of his hips fucking into your face and the low grunts and praises that leave him until he finally releases into your mouth with a raspy groan.

You take in all of his seed into your mouth, milking his slit dry of every sweet drop of his cum until he pulls you off of his cock.

"You were very useful for both of us~ What would our cock slut want for a reward? We might grant your wish." Seonghwa asks with interest while fastening his pants back up as you thought for a moment.

"I w-want Hongjoongie~" You reply hoarsely, looking up at Seonghwa hopefully with glazed over eyes.

"That's so cute." He answers with a voice that still dripped with sensuality, "We'll see what we can do~"

#ateez scenarios #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez smut #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #ateez imagines

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dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

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Persephone’s Symphony | Prologue | Hades

Hey lovelies— this will either be a long fic or a short series, depending on how it best plays out. I decided to upload a sneak peak— let me know what y’all think and do enjoy!!

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: Mentions of death, at times semi-graphic, eventual smut

Word count: 2.5k (and counting)

Master List

“Barnes, you’re on protection detail.”

He must be dreaming— he must have fallen asleep with the tv on again. That’s been happening a lot lately; he’s trying to catch up on normal life. On all the shows and movies and music he’s missed throughout the years. He’s trying to catch up. Or maybe he’s just trying to drown out the silence. It doesn’t matter why, to be honest, all that matters is that he is asleep and what he is hearing and seeing are the workings of a bad dream. There was a marathon last night. Yeah, there was. Movies— a few of them. Something about bodyguards. He’s just dreaming about the movies.

Right?

Wrong.

“You’re to make sure she is secured at all times during the next three days— do not leave Miss Y/l/n’s side under any circumstances. Understood?”

Bucky blinks twice, his brows creasing as he stares down his commander, a stubby, burly man with beady eyes. It’s a trial run— he can’t say no. He wants to, he just can’t afford to. Not if he wants a job. Still, he sees no reason for this to be on him. He’s a soldier— a good one. A dangerous one. Watching over little girls isn’t in his job description. He’s a fighter— a monster.

“I need an affirmative, Barnes.”

He bites back a scowl. He’s not trying to get demoted, he knows he’s on thin ice. But, like, isn’t there anyone else? Hell— Wilson is right next to him! Surely he’s better. He’s charming, at least. A flirt. He would be perfect! Wilson would keep her safe. So would he— maybe. Definitely from the threat. From himself, though— well, three days is a long time to avoid sleeping. Even for him.

“Barnes!”

Damnit.

“Understood, sir.”

Wilson’s amused chuckles sound from beside him, his hand landing like a ton of bricks on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky contemplates the repercussions of punching the smug bastard in the middle of a briefing. It can’t be more than a pay dock. He isn’t making that much anyway, it wouldn’t be a huge loss. It would be worth it to wipe that grin off his face. But, no, he can’t. He’ll have to do it later.

“Someone’s on babysitting duty.” Wilson snickers, pressing his fist to his mouth to hide his goading from the commander. “Remember Barnes; no candy after seven.”

“Shut up, Wilson.” He grunts back, just barely stopping his metal arm from flying out and smacking him— from squashing him like the bug he is.

“Think she has a bedtime?”

“Think you could shut up?”

Wilson flexes his fingers, holding them up slightly. Just enough as to not get caught ignoring the briefing but also enough to make sure Bucky notices. “Woah—” he says under his breath, that stupid smirk still heavy in his tone— “someone’s touchy today.”

“It’s a bad decision and you know it.” He says it simply— gruffly— it is the truth after all. He’s dangerous.

Wilson’s face softens, the glee filtering from his tone. “You’ll be fine, Buck.”

Bucky doesn’t answer, he just clenches his jaw. He doesn’t want to have another conversation about this. You’re a good person. You didn’t mean to do it. It’s not your fault. It might not be his fault but he still did it. He still feels it. That makes him bad— if not morally than at least physically. He’s a liability.

“Y/n Y/l/n—” Bucky focuses back on the commander; he may as well learn what he needs to do— “the twenty-five year old heir to the biggest communications technology manufacturing companies in the world. They do dealings with a range of chief institutions including our own White House—”

If Bucky’s teeth weren’t pressed together hard enough to make him wonder if they’re going to disintegrate, then his jaw would be on the floor right now. She’s the what? Did he just say twenty-five? He can’t even remember what he was doing at twenty-five— whatever he was doing it certainly wasn’t that. Granted, he probably doesn’t really want to remember what he was doing. Soldier things. Dangerous things. He shakes his head, huffing out a breath of air.

“Her immediate family have all turned up dead within the last six months—”

Bucky flinches— this time his jaw does drop.

“Holy shit.” Wilson mutters from next to him— Bucky can only nod. No more jokes about babysitting then.

Some pictures appear on the screen behind the commander, each one more gruesome than the last. It is nothing overtly sinister— nothing he hasn’t seen before— nothing worse than anything he’s seen before. Or worse than what he, himself, has done. He shivers, staring at the photos. Two men and a woman, each with a scarlet circle blown through their foreheads. What the fuck.

“Other executives have been found dead as well—” more pictures, more bullet holes— “She is the last one. We don’t know who or why— our mission is to find out, execute, and above all keep Miss Y/l/n alive—”

The pictures change, finally showing the woman who is to be in the soldier’s care, and his heart stops. Not for any normal reason, though— not because of how obscenely beautiful she is or because of the way her eyes pierce through the junky projector as though she were actually in the room with him. Not because of how soft she looks or how he can see the pink sheen of her lip gloss or the way those glossy lips are curved into an open mouth smile— like the picture had been taken mid laugh. No. His heart stops because of how god damn fragile she looks.

In the picture she seems to be at a University with some friends of hers. They’re backed against a brick facade, shoulder to shoulder like some sort of preppy mugshot. It’s probably supposed to be comical— Wilson lets out a hmph next to him, clearly seeing it as well— but Bucky can’t find it in himself to laugh. Not given the circumstances. Regardless though the picture gives him the information he needs to know; that she is a head shorter than the males in the picture. That seems normal— a head isn’t much in the scheme of things. The size difference is nothing.

Nothing unless, of course, you’re a giant super soldier whose genetically modified to be larger, stronger, and faster than the average man. Deadlier than the average man. He won’t be just a head taller than her— he’ll be at least two. Maybe more. And that’s just the height— he doesn’t even want to think about the rest. He is going to be stuck for three days, in what will most likely be a cramped safe house, with a girl who he could potentially break by bumping into her too hard. He can see it now: he takes the corner too fast and the next thing he knows she’s sprawled at his feet, her limbs bent at grotesque angles and her glossy lips flattened. All because he didn’t think to check.

This is going to be a long three days.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As it turns out, there are no safe houses— not legitimate ones at least. What there is, however, is the Wilson’s old family home in Delacroix, Louisiana— a semi falling apart, two-story build with robin's egg blue, fading paint. It is nestled deep into the bayou, hidden meticulously between towering trees. It is miles from any main roads and on the bank of a mostly dead river. Foot traffic is scarce and boats rarely pass on sunny days, let alone during the rainy season— the season it just so happens to be. Perfect.

Well, the location is perfect. The rest is a god damn shit show.

“You ready?” Sam doesn’t look at him— he knows better than that, opting instead to continue staring out at the bayou from behind the wheel.

Bucky, hunched over in the passenger seat, eyes also locked on the blue home, shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t really have a choice, do I?”

Sam sighs and Bucky tries not to tense at the sound. Please, not another lecture— not right now. He tries to ignore the man, gaze pouring over what he assumes is supposed to be a charming porch. Under a dim but sturdy awning there waits a white swing with a long bench seat and some floral pillows. Across from it are two rocking chairs swaying softly in the Louisiana breeze. One has a matching blanket draped over the back. It is supposed to look cozy— he knows it’s supposed to and he is sure to everyone but him that it is cozy. To him, though, it looks like everything he doesn’t have. Like warmth and sunny days and peace. Things he wants and things that make his skin crawl because of how foreign they are to him.

“You’re not going to hurt her.” Sam taps his hand on the wheel, sounding out a pattern that plays more like bullets ricocheting through the cab of the truck than whatever melody it actually is.

Bucky grinds his teeth together. Now he’s looking at the window beside the porch. Is it a kitchen? A mudroom? A den? He isn’t sure, there’s a white curtain pulled across the frame, blocking his vision from whatever waits for him on the inside. Blocking his vision from her. For a moment he thinks he sees the curtain move— a shadow of a hand passing along the edge. He turns away— he doesn’t want to scare her if she’s trying to size him up before they meet. It’s the least he can do. God only knows how terrified she already is.

His stare lands on Sam— an invitation for the soldier to finally look away from the bayou. “But I could, right? That’s what matters here— I could hurt her.”

“No, Buck, you couldn’t— you wouldn’t. You aren’t evil or whatever it is you think you are.” Sam raises a brow and Bucky scowls— it always feels like he’s in his head.

Of course he would never tell Sam Wilson that— like a dog left to fend for himself, he would rather fight.

“Don’t pretend like you have any idea what I think.” He can’t find it in himself to feel guilty for snapping— isn’t that what wild animals do?

Ever the patient animal rescuer, Sam rolls his eyes at the bite. “You’re a good man, Barnes.”

Bucky stares back for a minute, not sure how to even broach an answer, before breaking, snapping his gaze back to the inviting home— his kennel for the next three days. He clenches his jaw, trying not to slam his head against the dashboard for being an idiot. Even Bucky understands that it’s bad when he breaks the stare first— he’s been told before that he has a staring problem. He just doesn’t want to look Wilson in his eyes and explain to him exactly why he’s wrong. Maybe it’s just easier to let him think what he wants.

“Whatever.”

Maybe he wants just one person to truly believe that he isn’t the bad guy— even if he doesn’t believe it himself.

“I thought old people were supposed to be mature.”

Bucky flashes him a forced grin, one that tastes like the three hours of sleep he got last night and the five hours of self-loathing, shoving open his door and following it with his foot. “That’s me— the mature one.”

Sam barks out a laugh; either Bucky’s grimace— grin— worked or Sam is choosing to ignore it. “You’re old, not mature— there’s a difference, pal.”

“Hmph.” Bucky jumps out of the truck, yanking the duffle bag over his shoulder as his boots sink into the spongy grass.

His skin dampens immediately, a combination of the marshy climate and the grey clouds hanging above his head. A few droplets fall against his face and he slings a hand over his brows, turning towards his fate for the next three days. Without the barrier of the truck between him and the house, he almost feels like a normal man again. The weak, destructible kind. Theoretically, if the house were to fall on top of him right now he would survive. He would be pinned under the rubble, yes, but alive. It just doesn’t feel like it— it feels like he would be crushed. It makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end— his hackles rising as he tries not to bare his teeth— or fangs— at this new kind of threat. If only people could see him now; The White Wolf afraid of a charming, bayou home.

What a joke.

He shakes his head, pushing the passenger door shut with a sharp clang. Of course he isn’t afraid of a house— then he really would be an idiot. No, he is afraid of something else entirely— something much more sinister. Bucky is afraid of suburbia; of normalcy. What, with a metal arm and a brain hardwired to kill— it only makes sense he would also be programmed to steer clear of anything half-way decent. Especially pretty, fragile girls with glossy lips. Fuck. He squeezes his eyes closed, his vibranium fingers clenching around the strap of his bag. What is he even doing here?

A familiar, mechanical buzz fills the air and he cracks an eye back open in time to see Wilson leaning his head out of the passenger window. “Look, man— it’s three days. The fridge is full, the wifi is on, and it’ll rain so much she’ll probably nap the entire time. Pretend you’re at home doing whatever it is you would normally do. You’ll be fine.”

Bucky nods, sticking to his guns and letting the soldier believe what he wants. He tells himself again that it is because it is easier that way. “I gotta go, Wilson.”

With that he pushes his way to the door. His feet sink further into the grass with every step, curling around his ankles as though trying to warn him against entering the house— or trying to save the poor girl inside. He can’t decide. Warning or trap. Both. A warning for her— the princess; the little girl in the forest— and a trap for him— the rabid wolf. He steps onto the porch, his boots echoing off the concrete. To him it’s booming. He doesn’t want to think about what it must sound like to her, especially with everything the commander said she’s been through. A giant coming to kill her is his guess. Movement to the left catches his eye, the curtains shifting again, and his neck flushes.

“Hey Buck?”

He sighs— again— and turns over his shoulder for what he hopes is the last time— he just wants to get this over with. “What, Wilson?”

He knows before the man speaks that the cheshire grin on his face can mean nothing good— still he waits for the answer.

“Remember to tiptoe.”

#Bucky Barnes #bucky #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky fic #mcu #mcu fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #mcu imagine #marvel cinematic universe #Persephone's Symphony

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thelazytealover · 2 years

Note

#9 for the touch prompt! ☺️

#9: Listening to the other's heartbeat

When he finds Persephone, she’s standing at the edge of a creek, vibrant as ever. She’s hitched up the skirt of a pale green, dirt-smudged chiton and is wading in shallow waters. It’s a terribly bright and humid day, but she looks relaxed as ever, practically glowing in the sunlight. Her curls are left down, and she’s fashioned a crown from some small blossoms from the surrounding riverbank. The picture she makes is so beautiful Hades won’t dare disturb it, but her head turns a moment later anyway. She always seems to sense his presence, even when he’s wearing the helm.

“Hades?” She calls, a sweet hopefulness in her tone, “that you?”

His affirmative response winds up stuck in his throat. Hades lifts the helm off, revealing himself to her in lieu of an actual answer. Her eyes finally settle on him, and her whole face lights up with a grin that steals his breath away. How can she be so elated to see him? He’s not nearly the vision she is. He must look startlingly out of place here, lingering awkwardly at the edge of the forest, dressed solely in greys and black.

He raises a hand to wave, his mouth remaining stubbornly mute.

“It is! I’ve missed you!” Persephone cries, jogging up the muddy bank of the creek. “Hades!”

He can’t help but smile then. His arms reach out to her of their own accord, and Persephone reaches out to him in turn, even though she’s much too far away to touch him.

“C’mere. I missed you too,” he admits, gesturing for her to come on over. She does, breaking into a run to reach him.

She’d almost made it to him when mid-run, her foot catches against a root in the mud, and she tumbles sideways into the creek. Hades can’t see her as she falls, but he can hear the decided splash as she hits the water.

“Persephone!” He starts towards her then, concerned that she’d hurt herself.

A long moment passes, and she doesn’t stand.

“Persephone?” He hears a strange noise, but no response. A chill races down his spine.

When he reaches the bank, he finds the goddess sitting back in the shallow water, muddied and laughing hard. Relief floods his entire body.

“Are you alright? Fates, woman, I thought you’d drowned!”

“In this creek? I couldn’t even go swimming, Hades,” she pants. When he offers a hand to help her up, she finally sees his expression and sobers a bit. “I’m alright. Really.”

She takes his outstretched hands then, and Hades tugs her up from the creek. As Persephone releases his hands, she eyes the muddied streaks left against his pale skin.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to get you all dirty.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just… relieved you’re unhurt.”

“I’m an outdoor girl, Hades. I take a tumble now and again. I can handle it, you know, I’m–”

He tugs her in and buries her into his chest in a tight hug then, unable to put his sudden protectiveness towards her into words. Persephone’s arms wrap around him a moment later, seemingly appreciative of the cuddle she’s been trapped into. She’s still covered in mud, but he couldn’t care less, so he continues to hold her tight. Relaxing into his embrace, Seph presses her head against his chest and keeps it there.

“Your heart’s really goin’, isn’t it?” she mumbles against him.

He finds himself unable to answer her again, but Persephone doesn’t seem to mind. One of her hands rubs gently across his back as the other rests against his heart. “I’m okay, just calm down. I didn’t do anything except wet my clothes.”

“I know, but Seph–” he clears his throat, desperate for a comprehensible answer. “I’d feel terrible if something happened to you. I- I want you safe.”

Persephone shakes her head but smiles, so he figures his reply is sufficient for her.

“C’mon. Let’s go sit a while, and calm your nerves. I’ll tell you about what’s going on up here, an’ then you can tell me all about your home down below– Oh! And Cerberus! You’ve got to tell me all about him.”

Grabbing his hand, Persephone tugs him back into the shade of the forest, chattering away. She details all of the chores she’d been busy with since he last visited and relentlessly questions him about Cerberus. His heart slows, if just a bit, as they talk.

Eventually, they reach a clearing and she pulls him down against a sturdy oak to sit.

She sits gracefully and pats the ground beside her expectantly. “C’mere. Rest a bit and tell me everything.”

#hades/persephone #persephone #hades #hadestown #em.writes

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amchara · 3 years

Text

Road to Hell (Wait for Me, I’m Coming) Part Two - Kit / Ty Hadestown AU

(Part One)

Ty rubbed his face tiredly, as he stared at another chicken-scratch parchment in the Unseelie Court’s library. He looked up and saw that Dru was fast asleep, gently snoring into her crossed arms, while Anush was dazedly flipping through pages of a huge leatherbound book. Mark had left a while ago, muttering something about getting some food for them but he hadn’t returned yet.

Ty looked down at his research, the collected notes he had written over the last day and a half and suddenly it seemed pitiful, compared to the task ahead. Ty could feel the panic rising, his chest tight and he concentrated on the feel of the rough paper underneath his fingertips. He had to get Kit out of Hell and he was taking notes, like he was back in the Scholomance and this was an assignment, instead of… instead of the most important fucking thing in the world.

He hadn’t told Kit how he felt yet. They had only just re-entered each other’s lives over the past two months and were still doing a wary dance as they relearned each other’s steps after three years apart.

There had been a hesitant scene in the L.A. Institute’s atrium when Kit had strolled in, almost as if he had never left, all sunshine gold hair, eyes the colour of a clear autumn sky, and a husky voice with just the slightest hint of an English accent.

There had been the angry, sparse time when Helen had sent them on a patrol together and they had strode along in miserable silence until Kit had finally stopped him and asked where Livvy was- and Ty had snapped back at him, the wound still raw, that he was trying to make amends for everything he’d done but he’d had to do it alone and he wasn’t ready to talk about it. The fragile moment when Kit’s face had crumpled briefly and he told Ty he was sorry he had left and that Ty had had to do it alone. And the appearance of the Raum demons a minute later, interrupting them- but then the glimpse of how it could be, as Kit had stopped him after the attack and insisted on drawing the iratze on Ty’s forearm, his face a study of concentration as they sat in the car before driving back to the Institute.

There had been fleeting, glorious moments in the training room when they had sparred, the pretence of combat a freeing sensation for Ty, as he felt able to finally touch Kit and the look Kit had given him, his breath an uneven whisper on Ty’s collarbone after he pinned him to the floor, almost helping Ty make his decision. But it hadn’t been enough - and the agonising choice of whether to knock - and still being a coward and walking away, almost too quickly, from Kit’s door.

And then that moment in the clearing. When Kit had done the stupid, honourable Herondale thing and sacrificed himself for the rest of them. Ty didn’t think he’d do the same if the situation was reversed - but then again, he was a Blackthorn.

From far away, he could hear a tearing, ripping sound and he came back to himself, noting the confetti of yellow parchment floating down to the ground around him, as he paced back and forth, paper strewn around him and his hands moving almost mechanically as he shredded his carefully taken notes.

Anush looked over at him, finally noticing Ty’s pacing and his eyes widened. And just then, Mark re-appeared in the doorway, carrying a large tray. He let out a curse as he saw Ty, almost knocking over the tray in his hurry to put it down. He crossed the room quickly to stand in front of Ty, gentle as he placed his hands over his brother’s as he clasped them a firm grip. This time, Ty let him in and he drew in a few deep, shuddering breaths as he let the small remains of paper drop.

“It’s all right,” he told Mark. “I have them all memorised.”

Mark nodded. “It’s wise to not leave the notes to Hade unguarded,” he said. He paused. “Although perhaps a bit unkind to the brownie cleaners - but no matter, I’ll arrange to speak to them.”

There was a stretch of silence. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning,” Ty said. “I can’t wait too long- we don’t know if time moves differently in Hades compared to the rest of Faerie and I can’t risk it.”

Mark’s eyes searched Ty’s face - not seeking eye contact but a different kind of reassurance. He seemed to find it, and he dropped Ty’s hands. “Then we’ll prepare to go together - you’re not going alone,” he said. A chorus joined in - a rousing if slightly terrified response from Anush, and a sleepy affirmation from Dru, who appeared to have just woken up.

Ty felt a brief moment of terror that he was bringing more people into what his research told him was likely a suicide mission… but the ice cold shiver of memories and Livvy’s pleading, drained face swam into view and he swallowed his protests. He didn’t think he could go through it alone again.

—

The ivory keys of the grand piano were always immaculately polished and Kit wondered whose job it was to clean them. His job was to play the music and he thanked - well, it wasn’t God and it wasn’t the Angel Raziel - but he thanked his lucky stars that he had picked up some basic songs from Jace the previous summer when he had visited the New York Institute, and that Jem had considered learning to read music by sight an essential part of a well-rounded education, alongside Kit’s Shadowhunter training and mundane school.

In contrast to the bright electric fluorescence that lit the warren of overly warm machinery-filled rooms that Kit had started to refer to as Hadestown, Persephone’s conservatory was different, with its faded white, latticed walls and high glass ceilings letting in the smallest fraction of outside light.

It reminded him of where he had lived with Jem, Tessa and Mina - in… C- In Cir- Kit’s mind stuttered. He didn’t know how long he had been here - the days were starting to blur together and he was worried he was starting to forget more than just the little things.

He stared down at the piano keys as the large ornamental clock on the wall struck eleven. Like clockwork precision, Persephone waltzed in, her movements sultry but sulky as always. She threw some new music books at Kit and he caught them awkwardly, balancing them on his lap.

“These ones - I don’t care which one you play first today,” she said, sitting down on the long fainting couch across from him, her black hair spilling over the white satin fabric as she rested her head. Kit tried not to stare at her deep decolletage, which was prominently framed by the tight red dress she was wearing. She noticed as he turned away and her gaze was hungry as she looked at him.

Kit looked down as he chose a music book and blindly opened it to a first page he saw. He started playing, a crooning jazz number singing out underneath his fingers. He didn’t know if it was because he was in Faerie or the spell he could feel he was under but he was a much better musician here than in the mundane world. The tight, lost look on Persephone’s face began to relax as the melody echoed in the conservatory.

As he finished the first song and began another, his movements almost automatic, Kit allowed himself to think again, of escape - of returning to the land of the living - to his family, to the Shadowhunter institutions he was slowly becoming accustomed to again, to… Ty. To what might be between them, although he had almost strangled that hope, locked it away tight and deep inside his heart. What they had resurrected - if that word could be used - given previous circumstances was almost a miracle, Kit thought, hard fought for and one that he hadn’t been about to throw away on foolish too-soon declarations of love. Even so, when he had seen that faerie arrow aimed straight at Ty’s heart, he hadn’t hesitated. He might not be ever able to tell Ty how he felt but at least he had been able to show it in his actions, he mused.

And he wasn’t about to give up on leaving this hellhole, although each unrelenting day in this dull, dark and depressing place of dust and hollow-eyed workers pulled at that hope. But he clung to his memories - to the now-dimly lit memories of the outside world. Of his love for a black-haired, grey-eyed boy with his sharp intellect and fierce love of his family, who saw the world in a different light than most, and was - had been willing - and maybe, might be willing again to share it with Kit.

The last note rang out as he finished the song and he drew his hands back, muscles aching. He had been playing for nearly an hour. In the sudden silence, Persephone let out a ragged sigh.

“Who is the love that you play for, boy?” she said, her voice ancient and rough. She rose from the couch and crossed the floor, her dress swishing across the smooth marble. “I have heard many love songs in my years… but yours is one that I haven’t heard in an eon. Tell me their name.” Her green eyes glistened with unshed tears.

But Kit remained silent. He knew instinctively if he said Ty’s name, he would lose it. He shook his head, his lips pressed together.

Persephone narrowed her eyes, and she reached out, as if to stroke his brow. Kit evaded her and stood up. He had been coming to play for her for several times now, and he had started to learn her ways. He needed a distraction. “I saw that crack in the wall- is that new, Persephone?” Kit lowered his voice as he gestured across the room. “I know you’re a captive as much as I am. Let me help you- we can escape together and then I will tell you.”

Persephone’s laugh was as dry as a winter’s wind as she sized him up. “Oh, that’s adorable, my sweet-” she said. “But I made my choice long ago and it’s--” her eyes suddenly moved past him. “It’s the love I deserve,” her voice suddenly was filled with honey and springtime.

Kit knew that Hades had arrived, and he tried to quell the fear rising in him as he turned around.

The man - fae - god or whatever he was - was standing in the doorway, casually watching them.

“Leave him,” he said in his deep voice. “I desire your company.”

Persephone swept past Kit without another word and draped herself across Hades. “Of course my darling- I am here. What shall we do?”

Hades took a moment to whisper into her ear and Persephone looked uncomfortable but let out a deep, throaty chuckle. “Of course.”

Hades smiled, with a devilish twist and he pulled her away, starting down the hall.

But then he stopped and looked back at Kit. “Your shift here has ended - get back on the assembly line.”

Kit looked down at his rough worker’s uniform, smeared with rust and dust and he forced himself to nod evenly - he knew from past experience that it was unwise to argue with Hades.

Hades’ firelit eyes swept over him. “And once that is over - come see me in my office.”

And at that, Kit knew that he was in trouble. Hades had summoned him twice since his arrival to his office, after the initial contract signing. Each time afterwards Kit had found himself weak and gasping on the floor outside, his mind blank and unsure of what had passed behind the walls of the office. Nothing good, he thought grimly - and that was likely the cause of his increasingly fuzzy memory recall.

He needed to escape and soon. He nodded again and Hades left with Persephone. Kit started to make his way to the factory floor. On his way out of the conservatory, he bumped into a small, bird-framed girl with a luminous beauty and whose too-large eyes must have been lively once but were now faded and glazed over with the thousand yard stare that all Hades’ workers had. That he might soon have. “What’s your name?” Kit asked the girl, trying not to sound desperate.

She looked up at him. “I- Eu- I…” she looked puzzled and sad. “I don’t know.” she said.

Kit felt a stab of despair.

Tag list: (let me know if you want to be added / removed!)

@jesse-is-spiraling @dontmindmyshadowhunting @sandersgrey @thechangeling

#kitty fanfiction #tsc fanfiction #kit herondale x ty blackthorn #kit herondale #ty blackthorn #my fanfic

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mitsuki-simps · 3 years

Text

Springtime ☆ Chapter Two

Selene Above

Summary: Now alone following her mother’s visit, Persephone reflects on memories of the past and gets an unexpected surprise in the present.

★Paring: Hades!Corpse Husband x Persephone!Reader ★Genre: Greek Mythology AU, fluff, angst, friends to lovers, slow burn ★Word count: 1076 ★Warnings: Bending of Greek Lore™️ for narrative convenience

Author’s Note- Sorry this is so late y’all I feel awful! I mentioned this in a post a little while ago but I’m moving to Germany from the US and my life’s falling apart a little :( But I really hope you like this chapter. Sorry we don’t get much Corpse screen time, the chapter was getting really long and I wanted to eek in a little more backstory and hint towards things to come ;) Also, I’ll add the taglist tomorrow morning. One last thing, sorry!: I re-wrote the entire Greek mythology family tree to get rid of as much incest as possible- I might post the reworked Lore if anyone’s interested. Cheers!

Masterlist. Chapters. ☆ Previous. Next.

Watching Demeter’s retreating form drift up the side of the Mountain, tinged with a ghostly luminescence, always made it feel as though she took a piece of your soul with her, gently tucked away in her woven wicker basket. Her visits, all too rare, all too short, all too painful- filled your time together with jovial laughter and glee, leaving only a hollow, empty feeling in their wake.

Having parted ways with Demeter, you now sat alone at the edge of your pond and peered into the clear surface as the moon’s luminescence gazed back. Its speckled, serene countenance served as one of your only companions, as if cousin Selene herself sat beside you, arm tightly wrapped around your shoulders, whispering sweet affirmations into your ear- asking you about your day, perhaps tutting sympathetically as you wax poetic about your isolated existence, much like she did all those years ago.

“None of this is hardly fair,” you mutter aloud to Selene- ah, - the moon’s reflection. You dipped your fingers into the water’s surface and observed ruefully as the ripples spread throughout the pond’s veneer, warping and distorting your companion’s “face”. Selene had, many years ago, been your closest friend and companion. The two of you spent countless hours together under Demeter’s watchful gaze, though your fondest memories were those in which your impish duo managed to evade her supervision entirely. Those memories, those long-gone moments of youthful bliss, were all you had to cling to at the best of times.

As fond as you were of these cherished recollections, all good things will come to an end, and end they did. Discontent, you remained crouched for a few moments more. With a weary sigh, you allowed your mind to run blank, slipped your eyes shut, and opted to drink in the ambient sounds of the crisp night surrounding you. Crickets chirped faintly, far beyond your reach; the creek that sloped through the eastern edge of your meadow babbled gently, familiar and steady as ever; and, to your great surprise, you heard something exceedingly unprecedented at this hour- footsteps.

You froze in place and screwed your eyes shut tighter, head inclining slightly to the side to better focus. Was your mind playing tricks on you again? Demeter had never visited during the nighttime before, and had certainly never visited twice in one day. To that point, she certainly wouldn’t have spontaneously lifted the embargo! So, if not Demeter, and certainly not anyone else, what sort of creature might produce the steadily approaching footsteps behind you? Wracked with fear, the only ‘reasonable’ explanation you could conjure reflected that of your brief glimpses of your Phantom- you were more than likely imagining things, driven to madness.

Cautiously and slowly, you opened your eyes, trembling in cold terror and slowly rose to your feet. Predictably, your meadow before you remained deserted as always as you darted your gaze across its expanse. However, the footsteps continued behind you at a slow but steady pace- with each soft footfall crunching the grass, your heartrate increased its pace, hammering in your ears, spurred on even further as you spun with purpose towards the potential intruder.

And, there he stood, in the flesh, mere feet away from you- your Phantom. You froze at the sight of him. You would recognize him anywhere, from his crimson cloak and obsidian curls to the golden diadem perched atop his head. What you didn’t recognize, however, was the inscrutable mask fully obscuring his face. It glinted in the moonlight, its features granted visibility by Selene’s grace. Its golden visage gazed back at you steadily, adorned with a neat row of sharp, jagged teeth, a skeletal nose, and a pair of ram’s horns sprouting from the top. All in all, it served as a truly frightening sight, and your hands, drawn to your chest defensively, trembled openly as a result.

He watched you carefully from beyond his mask and took a few tentative steps towards you, one arm on its way to reach towards you while the other hung idly by his side. Reflexively, you stepped back, edging closer towards the edge of your pond, prepared to bolt at the slightest sign of aggression.

Seeing your reaction, he paused, clearly cautious, and you jumped at the opportunity to speak. “Who are you?” you managed to choke out.

Mindful of your flightiness, he took a slow, measured step back of his own and dropped his hand back down to his side. “Don’t you remember me?” he murmured. His rich, gravelly voice came almost as a whisper that you nearly swore you imagined until he spoke again. “You would surely recognize me, wouldn’t you...?”

You shook your head at him rapidly, eyes owlishly large. “I don’t know who you are, Phantom, save for the glimpses I may catch of you at the edge of my meadow.”

A dry, airy chuckle sounded from beyond his mask. You couldn’t say for sure, but you could almost detect a hint of pain- perhaps disappointment? - in his laugh, almost as if it might have expressed a hint of long-suffering resignation. “Ah, Persephone. You don’t remember me, or know who I am, and yet you fear me nonetheless.”

He shook his head softly and turned his gaze away from you and towards the tree line with a sigh, as if defeated. His soft, almost meek disposition sent a wash of remorse and desperation through you beneath the rolling waves of your fear, causing you to feel near-shame at your reaction to his presence. While yes, he may pose a potential threat to your safety, and more importantly, he more than likely wasn’t allowed here, he was... someone. Someone else, living and breathing, here to expertly and cleanly break the usual monotonous flow of your solitudinous life- all of which you wanted so desperately, more than anything.

Having wrestled some control over your terror, courage fostered by his unwavering motionlessness and the prospect of company, you took a moment to consider your approach to the situation. “You say my name. You speak as if I ought to know you,” you mused slowly after a beat. “But tell me, Phantom, if I should know you, then you should know me- that much is clear- and all who know me surely know of my mother and her restrictions on this land. Yet here you are. So, who are you, and why might you tempt Lady Demeter’s wrath?”

“Ah, ‘Phantom’, eh?” he chuckled, returning his focus to you. “Yes, perhaps that is a fitting name to describe me. A shrouded memory of a corpse banished long ago, now free from the depths of Tartarus, here to haunt the fair Kore... But no, Persephone. I am no risen corpse nor a wandering specter.” He took a step towards you. “I am Hades, lord of the Underworld.”

Masterlist. Chapters. ☆ Previous. Next.

#corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #springtime #sorry for the cliffhanger lmfao #next chap comin up by monday at the latest maybe tomorrow

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antisocial-af · 3 years

Text

Changing Leaves (Malec Fanfic)

Title: Changing Leaves

Rating: M

Words: 413

Pairing: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood

Warnings: Sad Ending/Hopeful Ending

Tags: Persephone & Hades retelling, Angst, Tiny Bit of Fluff.

Notes:

From an arcade game in Hunter’s Moon Discord. Please read the warning this isn’t the usual fluff I write.

Story:

Magnus leaned into the thick furs lining the cold ground as he looked out to the thawing kingdom. Though Edom didn’t mimic the seasons’ exact characteristics, the realm still cooled during the time his love was allowed to remain.

When the months of his heart’s departure drew closer Edom would mimic the way Earth warmed. The flowers of the demonic realm would start to thrive in spite of their king’s emptiness. Though time in Edom stretched his moments with his love, it meant that it also dragged the days of Alec’s absence.

Soon the king would find himself at the portal that connected Edom and Earth, stealing glimpses of his heart’s life on the surface. Though Magnus wanted to be selfish and bound Alec to the undead kingdom, he knew the archer still held love on Earth. So he would cherish the visits from Alec on the other side of the portal as he adamantly talked of his newest hunt on Earth’s land.

Magnus yearned to be with love year-round, but the Fates did not weave it so. Their love was one of compromises and time restraints. Still, it was a love he would gladly suffer through. Magnus would await the leaves of the kingdom to turn the brown hues of his archer’s eyes. Then the portal would fully open once again and deliver him the warmth to survive the cold.

“I don’t want to go,” Alec whispered into his chest. The archer knew their time was coming to a close once again.

“I don’t want you to go,” Magnus affirmed as he brought his hands to tip Alec’s face up. The blue that usually covered his heart’s hazel eyes was mostly gone, signaling the magic bounding the archer to Edom waning. “If there were a way, I would have you stay.”

“They would never allow it,” Alec recounted as his eyes clouded. “They believe this is what is needed to balance both planes.” “I know, my love,” Magnus whispered his response into Alec’s dark locks. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry I have to depart soon, but,” the archer tipped Magnus’ face to meet his gaze again. “I am not sorry for loving you. If this keeps our planes balanced, then I will face our time apart happily. If it means your safety and the safety of our sanctuary, then I will bear our separation.”

Magnus sealed his lips over Alec’s and relished in the warmth radiating from his love. “I love you, Alexander.”

#antisocialaf #mywork #hmdiscord #magnus bane #alec lightwood #fanfiction #angst

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hadestownmodern · 4 years

Text

Dinosaur Nuggets

One of our head canons in this AU is that Orpheus is a vegetarian from a young age. This is that story.

-A

“Mama, what did you tell him?” She’s never necessarily been angry with her mom, rather than just frustrated. As she paces around her mother’s rustic kitchen, she sighs, rubbing one of her eyes with the heel of her hand. “What did you tell Orpheus..”

It had to be a conversation between Persephone and Demeter, as involving Hades would have gotten heated quickly, and Persephone didn’t have the heart to come between her mother and her husband, not right now.

“What do you mean, honey bee, I didn’t tell him anything I didn’t tell you?” Demeter promises, kissing her daughter’s cheek before she goes back to the cutting board, julienning some peppers for the vegetable pasta she was making the three of them for dinner. “He’s just more receptive than you were to what I had to say.”

“Mom, you know he’s so impressionable. He cried at dinner the other night. Cried, screamed, was completely heartbroken that his dinosaur nuggets might have come from a chicken that was friends with your chicken. He was crying because he thought he was eating Lucy’s friend. His words, not mine.” Persephone whispers, standing on her toes to watch out of the kitchen window above the sink, to see if Orpheus had made any progress towards coming inside.

Instead, her four year old boy sat in Demeter’s chicken coop, surrounded by the various birds. In his lap sat the one he always spoke of, named Lucy, which was covered in white feathers. It sat on his lap as he tried to hug her, the bird spreading it’s wings in his arms in an attempt to get away. Regardless, she remained in his lap.

“Do you think he’ll get sick out there with those birds-” Persephone asks, biting her lip nervously, before dropping back on her heels and leaning her back against the sink.

“Persephone Beatrice I used to let you run around without shoes on and then not take a bath for a few days because I respected your free spirit. He will be fine.” Demeter assures her daughter, adding her sliced peppers to a hot saute pan. “He will be just fine.”

“You know I was a toddler, you could have told me to take a bath.”

“Well, as you got older I told you not to marry a city man from a rich family and you didn’t listen to me then, who’s to say you would have as a child?” She teases her, taking her hand and squeezing gently. “Orpheus is just an empathetic, kind soul. So what, he won’t eat meat. I don’t eat anything that comes from an animal, and i’m just fine. He will have enough to eat. It’s not the end of the world, Persephone.”

“I can only make three meals, mom! Three! Dinosaur Chicken Nuggets, Grilled Cheese, and Pasta with sauce from a jar! I can’t even make him Ramen now because it’s chicken flavored. We are down to two meals, so don’t you dare get him started on being a vegan, too!” She warns, shaking her head. “I now am down to two meals to make him.”

“Maybe it’s time you learn how to cook, hmm?” Demeter shrugs, handing Perspehone the rubber spatula she used to toss the onions and peppers in the pan. “It’s not terribly hard to do.”

“I married a man who can cook, we’ll have to live on grilled cheese in his absence.” Persephone rolled her eyes, setting the spatula down. “Or takeout. I’ve always been a fan of lo mein.”

“How is the million dollar man taking Orpheus’s dedication to animals? And hermes?”

“Don’t call him that. He’s fine with it, you know, he does cook so he doesn’t mind making something for him those three days of the week, and then Hermes, obviously, he’s good at it. But he’s also the king of peanut butter and jelly.” Persephone reminds playfully, breaking off a few pieces of raw pasta to eat while they talked. “We’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.”

“Of course you will. Orpheus will not be hard to take care of. He has a kind, loving heart. Which will get broken and hurt a few times. Like when Calliope came back-”

“Don’t mention that bitch, I should have killed her-” Persephone hisses, unknowingly tightening her fist in anger and crackling the raw noodles inside.

“No, she is not worth violence. And she won’t be back. Not for a long, long while. But people will hurt him, because he loves so deeply. You will want to shield his heart, but it is inevitable.” Demeter admits as she adds the pasta to the water, as they stand and watch him play in the coop together.

“I can handle that, I can learn to help him. I can learn to make more options, maybe ungrilled cheese..but mama..” She sighs, leaning her head on Demeter’s shoulder. The older woman lays her head atop her daughter’s, patting her hand gently.

“Yes, honey love?” She whispers as she squeezes her daughter’s hand.

“Is he going to be happy? You talk about heart break and that horrible mother he has and people hurting him- is he going to be happy?” It’s a natural fear, she supposes, that Orpheus will spend his life hurting and on his own.

“Oh, of course he will be. Growing up, of course. He’ll have a wonderful life. It takes good parents, good people raising him, to make him so loving and empathetic. And he has those.” Demeter compliments as her arm wraps around Persephone’s shoulder, rubbing her upper arm sympathetically. “And when he’s grown? He’ll be so happy. So loved. So loving. So in love. He’ll have a wonderful, wonderful life.”

Persephone lets out a sigh she did not know she held, nodding in relief as Demeter affirmed her wishes, her goals and hopes for the boy she loves like her own son. “Thank you. Thank you. And thank you for letting us stay-”

It was no secret Persephone hated to be alone, on her own in their city apartment, when her husband was gone for work. Her mother was always so welcoming, always ready to have her baby back under her roof.

“Of course. This will always be your home Persephone. Now, as much as I love that boy enjoying his time out there, bring him in to wash up for dinner.” She instructs, patting Persephone’s arm gently.

“I thought he couldn’t get sick?” Her voice is light, teasing as she sends Persephone off to gather Orpheus for dinner.

“He won’t. Doesn’t mean I want him tracking dirt and feathers to my table.”

With a laugh, she slips out towards the back door. “Mama? I love you.”

“I love you too, Persephone.”

#hadestown au #hadestown modern #hadestown modern au #orpheus #little orpheus #persephone #demeter #Annika writes #god I love orpheus as a toddler

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thoughtsofamidnightson · 4 years

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title: Epiphany

series: Thoughts of a Midnight Son

part: 1 / 1

setting: Eclipse, before the proposal

word count: 3114

rating: T

author’s note: This is my first piece ever written from Edward’s point of view, and my first time writing Twilight fanfiction in seven (?!) years. My aim was to make it as canon as possible. If you read it, I would love to hear your honest opinion — if anything can be improved, I would like to know. A special thanks to @obstinateswan on Instagram for being an extraordrinary beta reader.

On so many occasions during the past ninety years, I had wished to sleep. To kill the inharmonious symphonies constantly buzzing in my head, to be enclosed in complete and utter silence, to not hear the happy and life-affirming thoughts of love in my family. It was tiring. Tiring to be reminded every living second that while the six others had a purpose for living, a raison d’être, I drifted through life (if you could even call it that) with no aim or progress. After the first time, earning a medical degree wasn’t exactly an accomplishment, much less a reason to live. I didn’t share my father’s admirable self-control, which meant I couldn’t even put my exceeding knowledge of medical theory to use and devote my inexhaustible time to save lives. And as I was frozen in a 17-year-old body, I neither could engage in any other purposeful field of work. Just infinite books and tunes, for all eternity. When you spend so much time just existing, there comes a time when you wish you could succumb to the sweet release sleeping would be and simply not exist. A couple of hours once a decade would have sufficed.

But now, lying here next to the sleeping form of the purest and most beautiful creature to ever have existed, I was grateful for my lacking ability to repose; every second I was awake meant another second of watching Bella sleep. Of studying her peaceful face, listening to her slow heartbeat and her deep, even breaths, and, if I were lucky, and I often were, getting a delightful glimpse of her otherwise inaccessible mind, of her unedited and honest thoughts. There were few things for which I would trade that opportunity.

Almost on cue, she murmured my name, her mouth barely moving, her eyelids fluttering slightly, and as if the words were obliged to follow like they were my surname, she whispered, ‘I love you.’ My chest instantly filled with warmth (albeit an illusion), and like every other time I had heard her say my name in her sleep, it felt as if my heart skipped a beat.

But it didn’t. Or rather, it skipped every beat. It always would. From that night in nineteen-eighteen till eternity, it would stay the same: hard as stone and cold as ice—reminding me that although the ability to witness Bella sleep had made me feel somewhat of a fondness for my otherwise condemned nature a moment prior, there was still nothing I wanted more in this world than to not be what I was. To be warm and soft, to be mortal. Human. To feel my heart pump to the rhythm of Bella’s. To fall asleep with her in my arms. To dream about her. To kiss her without holding back. To feel the comfortable exhaustion, in my head and in my body, from staying up all night together. But more than anything else, I wanted—every frozen cell of my undead body wanted—to give her a normal human life, a human relationship. A love that did not force her to make a choice between constantly facing the risk of dying, or immortality. I wanted to attend college with her, to stay up and write assignments, get tipsy together at private parties, to take her out on dinner dates, to watch her face and body change as time went by, to give her children— as many or as few as she wanted—to grow old with her, to look at our grey hair and think of all the years I’d been blessed with her love, of how much we’d lived and loved in just one lifetime. One lifetime with her would never be enough—forever wouldn’t be enough— but was limited time the price I was willing to pay if it meant we could have a human relationship? I wanted her to experience all aspects of human love, and I, selfishly, wanted to experience them with her. Aspects I had, although having heard humans value them for nearly a century, so wrongly judged as trivial and superfluous. They were not, however, and I saw that now that I loved someone myself; what I wouldn’t give to have those seemingly mundane human moments with Bella.

Yet maybe eternity was exactly what I wouldn't give in return for being human together. How could you fit the infinite sea into a fixed container, force boundless love into measured time? As much as I longed and craved for these other terms of existence, I also couldn’t ignore the simple fact that if immortality had not been forced upon me all those years ago, I never would have had the chance to meet Bella. Frankly, I plausibly would have died before she was even conceived. Regardless of how many times I thought about it, it always afflicted me; the universe had granted me a reason to live. A reason to be truly content at the core of my being—that is, loving Bella and having her miraculously and for some unfathomable reason love me in return. But I was only alive to experience it because the same universe had taken my mortality and made me a blood-lusting monster—whose very existence threatened the life of this only reason to live. It never ceased to seem like a sick joke to me. A ludicrous paradox. But perhaps the perfect world simply could not exist. Perhaps it was only fair. To me, not to her. From the moment I had first touched her life, the universe had been unfair to her. Had it been fair, it would have let her escape, made her flee while she had the chance, let her move on when I had left. But it didn’t. She didn’t. And so she was here, lying in the cold embrace of a man (if that was what I was) who would never grow old with her, never make her a mother—never give her the human love she deserved more than any other soul in this world.

She stirred a little, nuzzling closer to me and laying her hand on my chest. I pulled the blanket tighter around her and glanced at her bare arm, checking for any indication that she was cold, but her skin was smooth as ever, almost glowing in the streak of pale moonlight that shone through her thin curtains. Lightly, she clenched the fabric of my t-shirt in her fist and let out a pleased sound. My body stiffened instinctively. Letting go of my shirt, her hand drifted lower, down my torso, while her lips muttered syllables, which, despite being incoherent, told me she appreciated whatever she was dreaming of. I carefully grabbed her hand before it could slide further down my abdomen and tucked her arm back in under the blanket. She quietly groaned in objection and I kissed the top of her head, breathed in her intoxicating scent, and let out a sigh. Oh, to be human.

I felt her settle against my side, grazing my ribcage with her nose before finally falling into a deeper sleep. Or so I thought. ‘Change me,’ she suddenly pleaded into my shirt, still clearly asleep, and my lips twitched up into a humorless smile; how preposterously ironic it was that while I lied here, so desperately wishing that the heart in my chest was beating, she dreamt of hers freezing forever. The thought sickened me, although less now than before; I had come to realize that it was the inevitable future. Not because our relationship couldn’t continue if she stayed human (it could), nor because we were bound by the laws of our self-proclaimed overlords in Italy. No, Bella’s future as a vampire could not be prevented because she was extraordinarily and incomparably stubborn, and she wanted to be turned. It went against everything I wanted for her; it was everything I did not want for her. It was the future I had feared the most next after her premature death. But she had made her decision, and I would have to live with it.

I tried to picture her. Alice’s visions had gotten incredibly (and frustratingly) clear, crystalline, lately, so imagining Bella with golden eyes and marble skin wasn’t exactly difficult. What was difficult was imagining Bella like this without feeling prodigious disgust. Not that I didn’t find the sight itself appealing; she was impossibly beautiful—immortality wouldn’t change that. No, it was the mere idea of her giving up her life only to be with me which made me sick to my stomach. Although it had been a while since it had last appeared in my mind, the image of Hades condemning Persephone to a life in his kingdom of the dead suddenly burned my retina.

I clenched my eyes shut, trying to shove away my glum thoughts. I might have been Hades, but Bella wasn’t Persephone. I knew that now. Unlike the daughter of Zeus and Demeter, she had had a choice; it was her own decision to give up her human life altogether. She wanted to be with the monster. I would never intentionally, never willingly force her to renounce mortality in favor of my underworld—on the contrary, I had done everything in my power to prevent her katabasis. Did that mean I neither was Hades after all?

On one hand, I felt self-infatuated for still being with her. I had tried, tried to free her from the destiny she now had decided upon, and I had failed. I had been too weak. My selfish desires had won over her right to have a normal human life, and I had come back. I had stayed with her, because I couldn’t live without her. It might have been her own decision that she would give up her mortality, but it was a decision she never would have made—she never would have had to make—if I had stayed out of her life.

On the other hand, and this voice of reason was quite often defeated by the former, she couldn’t live without me either. When I left her, I had caused her immense pain. I knew that, not only because the pictures from Charlie’s mind of her hollow-eyed and ashen face still haunted me. But because I knew she loved me, and if she had felt just a fraction of the agony and torture I had felt when we were separated, she still would have suffered enough for a lifetime. I knew the thought of aging, the thought of our time together running out, pained her greatly, and I could and would not put her through any pain again.

Except I would. Once my venom reached her blood, she would burn in hell, and she wouldn’t know when it would stop. All she would know was pain, the excruciating feeling of being burned alive. I winced at the thought, my fingers clenching into fists.

But the pain would stop, I reminded myself. She would wake up, feeling different—so different—but she would feel good, new. At least that is what I told myself. If I could believe she would enjoy life beyond the pain, that having forever together would be enough for her not to eventually regret her choice, the thought of turning her was slightly less intolerable.

She turned in her sleep, and I gazed down to check on her. The sight was breath-taking. Her soft lips were slightly parted, her long, dark eyelashes brushed her smooth cheeks, and the blanket had ridden a couple of inches down, revealing her bare shoulders and collarbone. I suddenly felt an overwhelming, though not foreign urge to kiss her on the neck, to let my lips linger on her hot skin while brushing my fingers down her arm. Would her chest flush? Would she sigh in pleasure?

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall with a quiet groan, my face raised towards the ceiling, my arms crossed. When thoughts like these invaded my mind—and they frequently did—I repressed them. I felt ashamed and impure for letting her be the object of my carnal desires, for having any carnal desires at all. Repressing them helped me stay in control, but it didn’t make them go away. I wanted her. I could not deny that. So why did I deny myself thinking of her?

I knew she thought of me. Her dream earlier testified to that, as well as the fact that she often tried to initiate more when we kissed, and the look of disappointment, shame, and yearning on her face when I had to break it off. Sometimes I think she misread my reluctance towards intimacy as I not having the same desires as she. If only she knew—what she did to me, how much I cursed my nature every time I had to pull away, how much I wanted to deepen our kiss, how much I craved to touch her, to worship her like a Goddess. How every fiber of my being ached for the feeling of her naked body against mine, of being one with her. If only she knew how much self-control it took me not to be with her the way I had so blisteringly longed for since the day I fell in love with her.

But I refused to give in to the lust—both mine and hers. At least until after our wedding. The rational part of me loathed the idea of consummating our marriage while she was still human, but I sensed she wished to have this one experience before she was turned, and it was irritatingly hard to deny her anything she wanted. Especially when it was something I, somewhere in the dark and primal corners of my mind, wanted myself. And so, if she verbalized her desire to be intimate before her body froze forever, I would agree to make love on our honeymoon. Like human newlyweds, except this was a tad more dangerous; it could end fatally. And yet, I would make her this promise if need be, and not only because my forbidden and selfish desires had gotten the better of me; if she experienced the unequaled and ‘earth-shattering’ ecstasy, which I, through ninety years of being a telepath, had learned sex was, maybe—maybe—she would want to stay human. Just a couple of more years. Just long enough for her to finish college. By now, it was my only hope.

Thinking about this (slight) possibility made me wonder how high a percentage her longing for a more physical relationship took up of the reason she wanted to be changed. Was it twenty percent? Fifty percent? Eighty? Was the only reason she wanted to be like me that she didn’t think she would ever be… sated if she stayed human? For a moment, I imagined an alternate universe in which I had been the human and she the vampire. What would I have done? What would I have wanted her to do? Would I have wanted the same as she did? I merged the picture of her, golden-eyed, pale, and visually perfect, with a much blurrier portrait of a 17-year-old, green-eyed, and humanly flawed Edward Masen, Jr. Which thoughts would have occupied him if he had fallen in love with immortal Bella Swan in the year 2005? I, undoubtedly, would not have loved her less, meaning that I would have been as little willing and capable of living without her as I was now. In consequence, I would never in a million years have allowed her to just let me age, outgrow her eternal youth, and decay until my death. I would never want to die if being with her forever was a possibility. What was the point of an Elysium if she would never be there?

The only Eden, the only eternal peace, would be joining her in immortality.

And we would be equal. I would free her from the perpetual fear of hurting me, her throat wouldn’t scorch in my presence, and she wouldn’t have to cling on to her last bit of self-control whenever our lips touched. We could be physically intimate as much, as freely, and as intensely as we wanted to. And we would have forever to love each other.

In equal delight and horror, I found that the thought of Bella and I being immortal together suddenly… appealed to me. Putting myself in her place and she in mine made it easier to see the advantages of her transformation. When I had gotten over the physical pain I would cause her and the fact that I had cost her a normal human life, there would be things I wouldn’t mind, would enjoy even in our new existence together. An odd, fluttering sensation filled my chest and stomach. The dust in the air suddenly seemed to glisten like specks of white gold. From somewhere in the dark, a sigh of relief could be heard.

I looked down at the angel in my arms, now sound asleep. Carefully, as not to wake her (though my experience was that not even deafening thunder could awake her in this state), I slid down in the bed and lied fully down next to her. With a feather-light touch, I brushed my thumb across her cheek, cupped her face, and as an overwhelming stream of unconditional and inexpressible love flowed through me, I kissed her on her forehead.

‘I get it now,’ I whispered to her sleeping face, so quietly that I doubted she would have heard if she had been awake. ‘I dream of being with you forever, too.’

Unlike at her prom all those months ago and any other moment prior to this, I could now return these words without flinching in pain or dread. It felt indescribably magnificent.

‘But until the time comes, I will soak up and savor every moment your heart is beating,’ I told her, placing another kiss on her forehead. She responded with an appreciative sound and nestled impossibly closer to me. I couldn’t help the stupid grin I suddenly felt appearing on my face; no one would ever make anyone as happy as she made me.

I had never been ungrateful for the life Carlisle had given me (my existential hate had always been directed towards myself), but now I suddenly felt unprecedented and completely over-shadowing gratitude for the immortal life I had been granted. After all, it had led me to Bella, and she was all I ever wanted—and because she had made the choice she had, all I would ever have. Forever.

#the twilight saga #twilight fanfiction #edward cullen #thoughts of a midnight son #writing #edward cullen's pov #edward's pov #bella swan #midnight sun #twilight #eclipse

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miko-and-companyau · 4 years

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Eurydice (and Orpheus, of course) Weep at a School Presentation

I’ve had this story written for months now but I’ve hesitated posting it. But now I’m like WHATEVER! Dedicated to @dilforpheus for guessing right (and plus you beta-read it months ago before I finished it).

...

Eurydice wasn’t an easy crier- she kept her emotions in check, never wanting to be vulnerable in front of others. It was never her forte to break out and sob. But things change. If someone five years ago, would’ve told her she would cry at her adopted son’s school presentation on his family, she would’ve thought that they were insane. Yet, here she was, standing in the back of the new schoolhouse, dabbing her eyes with one of her husband’s spare bandannas as her son held up a large sheet of paper with a hand-drawn family portrait on it in front of an audience of fellow classmates, teachers and parents. The presentation had barely started and was already a mess. She wanted to blame her reaction on the pregnancy hormones, her chubby fingers cradling her protruding seven-month baby belly or the dust in the air, but she’s sure no one would fully believe her even if she tried.

Orpheus wasn’t fairing much better either- full, fat tears streamed down his red, blotchy cheeks. A wide smile took up nearly his entire face, and a sense of sheer pride radiated from his body.

“This is me, my Mama Euri, my Papa Orphy, Unkal Hermes, Auntie Sephy, and Unkal Hades,” the boy quietly pointed at each carefully drawn figure, all standing side by side with big smiles except for Hades who had a much more modest line with a tad curly end. “Uhh, don’t worry doe, Unkal Hades seems scary but, but he’s very nice!” Miko focused back to the two bodies in the center, a tidal wave of confidence seemed to flow through his body at the mere sight of them even in crayon form, “my Mama and Papa are the bestest in the world! Mama is strong! She fighted mean people and saved me! And she always kisses my booboos when I get hurt. Papa is super kind and really good at music. He sings me songs when I get nightmares and lets me perform with him at unkal Hermes bar! They let me say jokes and cook and we all get to be silly! Unkal Hermes tells me cool stories and Auntie Sephy dances with me. And Unkal Hades saved me from a snowstorm!”

Miko slowed his words and dipped his head down, gripping the paper tighter in his balled fist, “sometimes...I’m no good for Mama and Papa. I’m shy and cry a lot and cause trouble. I not a good boy. Not good enough...they uhh, adapted me and Mama is gonna have a new baby and sometimes, I ‘fraid they won’t want me anymore...” Miko’s words slurred and his lips began to quiver. Concerned and confused murmurs began to arise from the crowd. It took every ounce of strength for Orpheus and Eurydice not to run-up to the front of the classroom and yank the small child into their arms and affirm none of that was true. They loved him and that would never change.

Suddenly, Miko’s eyes meet with Orpheus and Eurydice’s and without any words, a sense of understanding course through their bodies. The young child took a deep breath, “Unkal Hermes says that family is deeper than blood. He adapted, no, a-dop-ted, my Papa when he was my age and they love each other very much. And my Mama and Papa say they love me lots just like I love them, so it’s okay! My baby brother or sister comes soon and I’m not scared anymore. I wanna be the best big brother ever! I’m gonna teach them to paint and play the kazoo and love them lots and keep them safe. Just like Mama and Papa do for me. My family is the bestest and I would never ever never change it!” He lowered the paper and gave a deep bow.

Thunderous applause broke out over the room, a few children screamed, and even a whistle or two rang through their ears. And as if the invisible restraints had been unlocked and lifted, Eurydice and Orpheus jumped from their seats and tore upfront, gently bumping and pushing through the sea of bodies and chairs with fumbled “excuse me’s.”

Orpheus gets there first. Miko barely had time to acknowledge his parent's arrival before he’s raised into the air and pulled close to Orpheus’ chest, the portrait slowly falling to the ground. Eurydice is a mere second behind. Miko smile quickly morphs into a frazzled frown, “Papa, Mama? You’re crying...you upset? I make you sad?”

“No, no, no,” Eurydice hastily objected, smiling wide, “the opposite baby. We loved it.”

“They’re happy tears,” Orpheus added, voice hoarse from crying. Hefty tears still poured down his face and dripped into his clothes.

“Really?” Miko asked astonished.

Eurydice nodded, cupping the side of her son’s face in her hands, “really and truly. We’re so proud of you, Miko. We couldn’t have asked for a better son.”

“Not in a million years,” Orpheus kissed the dark brown skin between Miko’s temple and cheekbone.

The tears Miko had been holding back promptly began to flow. The boy brought his tiny fist up to his eyes as he sobbed. “Mama, Papa!” Orpheus and Eurydice held the boy tight in their arms, whispering soft and assured ‘we love you’s’ and others sweet affirmations. None of them cared they were still standing front and center in the schoolhouse. This moment was more important than the public’s perception.

“You’re gonna have to do that presentation again for Uncle Hermes,” Eurydice chimed, bending down to pick up the forgotten picture on the ground.

“And Lady Persephone when she returns,” Orpheus added wiping a stray line of tears from his and his son's cheeks.

“You think they’ll like it?” Miko asked quietly, a hopeful expression glazing his face.

Eurydice smiled, reaching out to take her husband's hand, “I’m sure they’ll love it.” The three make their way out of the schoolhouse building, the sun peeking out from behind the clouds to shine down on the path back home.

...

#miko and company #miko and company au #orphydice #hadestown

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