#HOW COULD I FORGET ABOUT FIELDS OF ASPHODEL!!!

[nepholog]

A list of all the interactive fiction WIPs I loved/unreleased WIPs I'm hyped for so I could keep track of them:

Released Demos:

Apartment 502 (Dashington) by @/apt502-if

Our Life: Now and Forever (Steam, itch.io) by @/gb-patch

Infamous (Dashington) by @/infamous-if

Chop Shop (Twine) by @/losergames

Eyes of Shan (Dashington) by @/eyesofshan-if

Checkmate in 3 Moves (Dashington) by @/checkmatein3moves

Honor Amongst Thieves (Dashington) by @/leoneliterary

Court of the Guilded Roses (Dashington) by @/crazerk

Summer of Love (Twine) by @/summeroflove-if

Body Count (Twine) by @/bodycountgame

Seven Days in Purgatory (Dashington) by @/sevendaysinpurgatory-if

The Night Market Book 2 (Twine) by @/night-market-if

Gods and Villains (Dashington) by @/godsandvillains-if

Vendetta (Dashington) by @/vendetta-if

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - An affair of the heart (Dashington) by @/doriana-gray-games

Fields of Asphodel (Steam) by @/chrysanthemumgames

Breach: Chicago War Zone (Dashington) by @/breachverse

SLAUGHTER SQUAD (Twine) by @/harlequinoccult

The Haunting Shadows (Twine) by @/thehauntingshadows-if

Drink Your Villain Juice (Dashington) by @/drinkyourvillainjuice

Press Play (Dashington) by @/pressplay-if (@/girlfromthecrypt)

Unreleased Demos:

Stardoomed by @/stardoomed-if

Riptide by @/riptide-if

Death Looks Good On You by @/deathlooksgoodonyou-if

Zombie Kombi by @/zombiekombi-if

The Muse by @/themuse-if

Alistar: Ascendance by @/alistarascendance

Elysium Circus by @/elysiumcircusif

[fictionalmenaremytype]

Percy Jackson episode 7 spoilers!!!

First of all, that cliff hanger is more cruel than the actual cliffhanger...okay maybe not but you get the point.

- WE GOT CRUSTY'S. If I'm honest though I wasn't really disappointed when I thought he wasn't in it.

- I am sad we didn't get DOA records but the fact that they didn't fare with Charon tells me DOA does still exist they just used a different entrance so I'm hoping for it to be used in a different season. Would be funny if Nico used it in the 5th season with Percy.

- Annabeth's "Dude, don't make me come back out there!" Tell him, WiseGirl!

- Oh my god Percy and Sally at his first boarding school is so sad but when I tell you I cheered when he locked that car door! Persassy at his finest.

- "not in Kansas" "Hey focus, we left kansas four days ago." "Yeah, I-" so it's basically Canon they were going to see the Wizard of Oz in BotL then yeah??

- Percy is so polite with all the souls! "We're all dying...to some extent."

- The boys bribing Charon and Annabeth is staring at them like they are about to get them in trouble again.

- "You can buy a new whistle" I cackled

- AWW CERBERUS...I mean Ahhhh Cerberus!

- Annabeth is so smart but Grover getting eaten?? Was scared he wouldn't come back.

- I feel bad for Aryan being covered in that gloopy stuff that looked gross.

- She just chucks Percy the ball to get herself up! INGENIUS!

- Aww Annabeth's little sad backstop moment and Percy wasn't even listening!

- The way Grover lost the pearl is very clever! I wasn't expecting that but it makes more sense than Poseidon forgetting about Sally.

- New Information?!?!? Mate you could have sent an email!!!! I'm sorry but maybe the fact he was on the school gymnasium roof probably suggests that the school wasn't keeping a good enough watch on him!!! Report the school!!!

- HOMESCHOOL??!?!?! Of course Sally can't do that she's barely able to support her, Percy, and Gabe as is! But Percy seeing all of that is so sad.

- That soul is terrifying I never want to watch the fields of Asphodel scene again (I've watched it four times)

- Annabeth getting stuck because of her regret (which I'm assuming is regret leaving home) I was scared for her. Completely forgot about the pearl.

- I really thought the sound were going to do some Weeping Angel level scary stuff.

- She's so smart using the pearl

- I thought the desert was another dream sequence but nope! How did I forget!

- Sad we didn't get the tartar sauce line but I'm also glad we didn't.

- I am convinced they only came off of Grover's hooves because he has hooves and not feet. If his foot filled the shoe properly he would have been dragged to Kronos.

- "is this?" "No!" "Well it looks like-" "it absolutely is not" "Okay, so what is it then?" "Yeah that's the master bolt." "I mean, I think so right??" I love how they show it takes them longer to get to the truth without Annabeth.

- return the bolt ❌️ Take the bolt to the person you think stole it ✅️

- The café scene is so sad what! "I would never do this to you." Has me sobbing. my favourite thing about the show is all the extra scenes we're getting that explains how difficult it was for Sally to raise Percy, it just adds to why there's so many year-round campers.

- that elevator is badass

- I love how Hades tries to connect with Percy with the nautical reference. He's so funny. I want a scene in season 4 or 5 of Nico just ranting in Italian and Hades sat on his thrown like "Yeah yeah I know."

- PERCY DEFINITELY PANICKED SEEING HIS MUM IM GOLD BECAUSE WHEN HE WAS IN GOLD HE ALMOST SUFFOCATED TO DEATH AND SALLY HAS BEEN LIKE THIS FOR FAR LONGER. HE'S PANICING THAT SALLY IS EXPERIENCING WHAT HE DID.

- "huh?"..."the bolt is my brothers drama I don't want anything to do with it." Spoken like a true middle child.

- "my helm!" "Your what?" So funny. Percy knows loads of stuff about Greek mythology but not about the helm.

- Oh my god, the way this is setting Annabeth up to be the traitor??? The helm turns people invisible like her hat. Percy realised he was supposed to be dragged to Tartarus, which would make sense why she saved him from the chair...he knows someone partnered with Ares, and both Annabeth and Ares were upset with Athena when Ares arrived!! Kind of suspicious...

- "Kronos." chills.

- Hades helping them in exchange for the bolt makes sense now because he only wants to defend his land. He's thinking he's the closest to Tartarus, so he will experience his father's wrath first and therefore needs the strongest weapon.

- "Nice pearl?"

- "Hold fast mum."

- Sally burning the milkshake as an offering is so smart but WHAT CAFÉ HAS MATCHED IN THE SUGAR BOWL?!?!?

- The way Poseidon just turned up because Sally needed him <3 (couldn't do that for Percy though could you mate?)

- "it's a him, he saw it." I cackled.

- Poseidon and Sally having that kind of relationship where they put feelings aside to help the other person. It's giving besties with a child.

- "one day...one day when he's ready...when he knows who he is...and where he belongs...and fate has revealed to him his true path...and that day..." And that day is next Wednesday because surprise! Its a cliff hanger! And the end of the episode!

- The way they looked at eachother when they realised what was about to happen though has set them up to be such a perfect trio.

- I will never get over how cool Ares is!

- And riptide/anaklusmos (which for non book readers is the name of Percy's sword) looked so sick.

This episode was so good and I'm so glad it wasn't like a 25 minute episode. Even though the actual content only took 36 minutes, it felt well spaced and gave time to understand what was happening. I am a little teensy bit worried for how the last episode will go as there's quite a lot to cram in. They have to find the Helm and fight Ares and then they have to return to camp so I'm a little bit worried but I have faith that Rick, Aryan, Leah and Walker will pull it off.

[your--isgayrights]

Hi!! for the ficlet thing, would you do Kim Dokja and Na Bori, if they meet in the underworld?

Oooh this is a good one... Like a little niche but I really like Na Bori and feel like there's good stuff there... hmmm. I haven't read underworld arc in a while, so apologies if it's hard to line up with cannon!

The fields of asphodel were a cornerstone of the Underworld's landscape according to greek myth. Or, at least, according to the cursory web browser search he has performed upon reading that phrase in Ways of Survival for the first time.

That chapter came out when he was around eighteen years old. It was easy to remember, because in January he would be legally old enough to visit his mother in prison without the consent of his relatives, and he was thinking about it at the time that Hades had put his hand on Yoo Jonghyuk's shoulder, and called him 'son' as they looked over the Underworld kingdom together.

Kim Dokja idly wondered if Yoo Jonghyuk would gain the favor of the underworld in this regression, too. He hadn't in the original third regression, but at this point who could say what ideas the crazy bastard would get into his head...

Regardless, finding the answer to such questions wasn't why Kim Dokja had traveled to the Underworld today.

Nor was it why he was halted in his tracks, stood still in the middle of the fields of asphodel at that very moment.

Kim Dokja had stopped not because something written in Ways of Survival, but by something that deviated from that very text.

In the novel, the fields of asphodel were described as crowded with faceless, unremarkable souls that blended into a general misery of having once been alive.

Yoo Jonghyuk had seen every face as generic, and unrecognizable, as if the souls were so lost in death that even their physical forms were forgotten.

But Kim Dokja swore that he recognized this young girl standing next to him in the crowd.

She was about the same age as he had been when he read that chapter about the Underworld. Eighteen. An oversized school uniform. Bruises from hand prints splayed across her neck.

Then, Kim Dokja saw the emblem on her uniform was the exact same as Lee Jihye's. And in that instant, he knew who this girl was.

This was Na Bori, the girl who always died in the first ten minutes of the scenario.

And she was looking right back at him.

"Do you know me, sir?" She asked him a question that she wouldn't know the answer to no matter how he responded.

"Do you even know who you are?" He asked back, almost reflexively. After all, the shades of Asphodel were always described as having walked through the river Lethe, forgetting everything about themselves in the process.

This girl, however, tilted her head to the side, as if considering his question intelligently.

"My memory of myself is defined by the form I took here." She told him eventually.

"When I look down at these bruise marks on my neck, I feel sadness, and how scared I was." The girl's hands went up to her collar, as if going to defend her neck from future assailants. "But I also feel a little something like love, and like pride."

Kim Dokja could now recognize in her gesture not only an instinct to protect herself, but also a need to cherish and carefully hold this mark that served as her only memory.

"I Just don't know why. I can't remember her, I-" Something flashed in Na Bori's eyes, as if she was trying desperately to hold onto something. "Her, I-."

And then in an instant it was gone, and that mild melancholy once more came to reclaim her features.

"I don't remember anything." She told him. "That is why the only thing I know for certain is that I am in hell."

Kim Dokja frowned at that remark. "You know this is the Underworld, not the Demon Realm, right?

"It doesn't make a difference." As the girl spoke, Kim Dokja saw that her eyes started to go past him, as if she couldn't even recognize a person in front of her anymore, or remember why they were speaking. "Because that is what it means to die."

She looked back down at her neck.

"You don't make a difference, anymore." The girl said. "You can no longer do anything else for the ones you love. And you can't even remember that you loved them."

With that final word, the ghost's hands fell from her neck, and she looked down at her feet. As if speaking to him hadn't even been worth the effort of trying to remember herself.

Kim Dokja found it hard not to be disturbed by her final words, but his feelings about it were easy to settle down into something milder.

This sort of injustice in death... It didn't originate from this world alone. It existed before everything changed into the world of Ways of Survival. It was natural, and would continue to happen. Getting too bogged down in the details would only slow his progress.

That's right, Kim Dokja told himself these things as he continued through his long trek through the fields of asphodel, no longer stopping to look at shades, even if he thought he recognized them.

After all, he had a mission here in the Underworld, and plans for the future, that hinged upon not heeding that young ghost's words of warning.

[themsource]

A Moment Of Time

Pairing: Sans x Frisk Rating: T Word Count: 2,673

Hey @catsitta I was your secret santa for @secretsantafrans! I love your Fated AU so please excuse any cannon inconsistences if I made any @_@  I had fun mixing holiday themes for this; Kronia and Haloa specifically! 

Hope you enjoy ^^

Lord Death’s realm; usually so quiet and haunting, was unusually loud with the cries of celebration and joy. Golden light bathed the immense hall, the fires and torches giving such a grand view of the heavily decorated scaffoldings and food laden tables casting a supernatural warmth supplied by none other than Lord Fyre, for the evening's festivities.

Rarely was there cause for such lavish displays of black marbled fountains overflowing with fine wine, even rarer a reason for heavenly grown ambrosia to grace such a place as the Underworld with it’s desolate landscape and often gloomy atmosphere, but this was a day rare in itself.

Today marked the winter solstice; the time of year that many a mortal and god alike abandoned their divisions and classes that usually separated them from others of lower status as a show of civility and gratitude for one another.

And Death the youngest favored the holiday, in fact he was its greatest fan and celebrated it every year. Which was a surprise to the Goddess Spring given her dear husband’s solitary nature and not so subtle irritation at large gatherings. Let it be said that Sans denied Papyrus very little, and let him want for nothing.

An admirable trait in her spouse.

“My lady are you not enjoying the wine?” Frisk blinked free of her thoughts and spared a glance at her goblet, sitting wholly untouched and turning bitter the longer she ignored it and allowed it to spoil. 

A longstanding tradition on this day was that women alone were allowed to drink of the spirits and indulge in the fresh aged fruits of the last harvest, a tradition she always enjoyed, but now served as nothing but a reminder of lost youth and unwanted vows.

Frisk was gradually coming to accept the chains that tied her to her husband, and deeply appreciated the way in which he treated her as not only an adult, but as a partner, an equal. However it did little to ease the sadness she felt at times such as these, reminding her of the choices she’d unwittingly made that hadn’t truly been choices at all.

This year she wouldn’t be dancing among the snow of the surface, nor would she sit gossiping with her mother and her wood nymphs about plans for future growth and vegetation. Where once she used to greet the time of year with enthusiasm and eagerness, now sat nothing but a rock hard pit in her stomach that even Ambrosia couldn’t fill.

She felt out of place, and just a little bit lonely.

“Forgive me, but my stomach is not quite right tonight.” She forced a smile, small and fragile, but still genuine as she looked to her handmaiden. “Tonight I am not your lady, we are as equals, did you forget?” 

Daisy smiled as she took the opportunity and reached down to take the neglected drink, boldly taking a sip from it before offering Frisk a warm smile. “No matter the time or day you will always be my lady. As long as you’ll have me.”

Frisk chuckled before looking out to the crowd, her golden eyes skimming the dancers supplied by Mother Night as she caught the sight of Lord Fyre in hushed whispers with a fair skinned and golden haired Underworld denizen. 

Vaguely she tried to recall all the fallen heroes she’d been told would be allowed to attend but no name came to mind, maybe they were a member of the Asphodel Meadows?

“I take it Iris and Hyacinth are enjoying themselves?” She asked absently just as her eyes spotted her husband standing beside the hearth speaking with his brother. 

As if he could feel her gaze like a touch he subtly shifted his fathomless sockets to meet her.

Quickly Frisk averted her eyes with a grimace, and not so quiet skip of her heart. How he could draw such a reaction from her when she could just barely tolerate his presence she’d never know, and even as she watched Daisy blush, her flames tinting a slight shade darker, she swore she could still feel him watching her. 

Sans’s gaze always unsettled her, just as much as it drew her in like a vortex.

“Iris is currently in the kitchens, and Hyacinth, is showing Lord Cadmus around.” The way Daisy said his name was enough to make Frisk stare at her in shock. Cadmus, the hero of letters, how fitting given Hyacinth’s nature. Though it was still the last thing she’d expected of the elemental.

“I see…” Even her handmaidens dreamed of love she supposed, something she’d never really given much thought to. Was that one of the reasons behind their constant push for her to get close to Sans? “Well I hope she enjoys herself.”

Daisy offered a timid grin. “Are you sure it’s only your stomach that ails you tonight?”

Frisk dismissed her worry with a shake of her head. “Don’t worry Daisy, go have fun, you fuss over me enough every day as is.” 

Reluctantly the young fiery girl nodded and did as Frisk suggested, but not without offering a backward glance that the goddess waved off with a teasing smile. Slowly she let her hand drop and went back to looking out over the crowd. 

She felt like such a stick in the mud, truly not an attitude befitting of a queen.

Gracefully as she could, and still doing her best to ignore San’s continuously lingering stare, she skirted the side of the hall and slipped away behind a gathered group of souls. She didn’t stop holding her breath or head high until she’d safely made it back to her room, where she finally let her shoulders sag and sighed from sudden exhaustion. 

Papyrus might not be too pleased at her absence, but it was better than sitting in place all night frowning and pouting like a child. Frisk had gone to such lengths to show her mother and the other gods she was worthy of her title, she refused to spoil it all in one evening. 

More than halfway across her room she froze, her eyes going wide in disbelief, as they caught on a small object resting in the center of her bed.

Had someone been in her room?

Frisk’s heart anxiously fluttered in her chest as she debated on returning to the party or taking another step further into her room. Never before now had she noticed just how thick the curtains were that adorned her windows, or just how dark the corners of her chamber were where the miniscule candle light didn’t reach. 

Cautiously she inched forward, the ichor in her veins pounding like a drum as she shakily reached for it with all the control of a quivering branch. 

It fit perfectly in her hand, its texture like that of smooth glass with a coolness that sent a chill up to her shoulder. He guard dropped as she slowly raised it to eye level and turned it this way and that. It looked like a flat and rounded piece of polished obsidian, with golden leaf decorating it’s edges in swirling floral designs. 

A mirror, designed to be easily concealed and for discrete use.

She frowned.

Honestly Frisk wasn’t one to fret over her appearance, she never had been, always preferring wild and tangled hair with robes slightly worn at the fringes from hours spent in the dirt or walking. The only ones that showed any care to her looks were her caretakers and, on a less comfortable note, her husband.

She turned it twice over, as if the name of the person who had left this would magically appear if she simply kept looking, and nearly dropped it as the surface brightened, turning white hot and blinding.

Just as quickly as it happened it dimmed, and in its place was an image, crystal clear  and moving. 

Frisk gasped as she recognized one of the flower fields in which she used to play, now blanketed in freshly fallen snow, the picture of her mother standing silent and stoic as she looked out over the winter landscape. 

It was a looking glass! A magical item so very rare that only three gods she knew of had one, and none of them this small or intricately decorated. Whoever this was from had obviously put a lot of considerable effort into having it made.

“does my lady wife like her gift?”

She hadn’t expected his presence with the celebrations currently going on, but honestly she should have. Sans always had the habit of suddenly appearing from around corners or showing up spontaneously. 

Frisk spun on her heel, her hand quickly darting up to brush away the tears beading in her eyes as they widened at seeing her husband standing just within the dark shadows of the doorway.

At this point in their relationship she’d grown accustomed to his comings and goings. The only thing she never understood behind the actions was if it was done simply because he liked to use his name and title as the lord of death to unnerve others and to demonstrate the power he held, or if it was merely a fleeting moment of whimsy for a cheap thrill. 

One thing that always irritated her to no end though, was that he enjoyed targeting her the most.

Such as now; with an embarrassed flush on her cheeks and a jolt of shame running down her spine as she struggled to hide the very emotion she so blatantly wore. Gifts between spouses was a tradition, but she hadn’t given any thought to it. She didn’t think for a moment her lord husband would be partial to the tradition.

Frisk should have known better given how their whole relationship had even started.

“I...am afraid I did not prepare anything for you in turn.” 

His gaze, always so penetrating and watchful, dropped from her face to the looking glass she clutched to her chest, not missing the subtle way her knuckles whitened as she subconsciously tightened her hold on it.

As if he’d try to steal it away from her.

Sans’s smile widened. “what more gift could a husband want than the company of his wife?”

Her face stung as it turned red, and her voice came out uncertain, higher in pitch, as she stared at him. “I trust you mean platonically?”

“I have the desires of any man, for his bride, and while i wouldn’t turn away such an offer...” 

She tensed as his sockets did a slow, calculated roll of her form before flickering back up to her face, the gesture causing her heart to skip for the second time that night. “in this instance my intentions are entirely innocent.” He chuckled.

Frisk watched as he held a hand out in offer, his phalanges slightly curling as if beckoning her to him with a still ever present grin. It would be so easy, in another time and place, for Frisk to have believed the innocence behind his smile. But he always wore it, when amused, irritated, and when being cruel as Death often had to be.

It made it so hard to understand him.

Casually she slipped the now darkened looking glass within her robes and tried her best to keep her expression unreadable as she placed her hand in his, the icy touch of his bones draining the warmth from her, but never able to steal it all completely.

The edges of his smile seemed to soften as he glanced down.

It did something to her to see that. He acted so touch starved, so easily awed every time they had the briefest of contact.

They both stood there in silence, his thumb slowly running circles into the back of her hand the longer he held it. She sucked in a breath at the shiver it sent up her spine but dared an uncertain look up at him.

“Are we not going somewhere?”

His subtle movement stopped but he didn’t look away from where they stayed joined.

“is there somewhere you wish to go?”

She didn’t respond, and he took that as an answer. He gave one more slow, deliberate, stroke of his thumb before finally releasing her. If Frisk didn’t know better she’d have thought she’d heard a small sigh from him.

And then she finally noticed the faint blush on his cheeks.

“...Sans?”

“hmm?”

“Have you been drinking?” 

He looked her in the eye as his grin hitched higher. “whatever gave that impression?”

Frisk narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, the faint blush darkening as she stared him down and cultivated one on her own cheeks. She hadn’t noticed just how cute his magic could sometimes manifest itself, just how it left a vague ethereal glow that bathed the inside of his normally obscure hood.

“Sans…only women are supposed to drink today.”

His sockets lidded. “from what i could see earlier in the night, you weren’t in the mood, and it would’ve been rude to waste wine provided by asgore himself.” 

She knew he was using a poor excuse, but it was enough of one it lit a flicker of embarrassment in her. Frisk stubbornly focused on one of the gold medallions that held up his cloak to avoid eye contact.

“You just wanted to drink.”

“can you fault me? it was my favorite after all.” She glared at his cheeky smirk. “pomegranate.” 

“...”

“...”

“...If only divorce was an option.”

Sans’s sockets widened and then he let out such a deep, bass heavy, laugh Frisk openly gawked at him. It took a moment for him to compose himself but once he had his voice was filled with mirth.

“sadly it isn’t. i would only welcome the challenge to make you mine yet again, if i could.”

She couldn’t think of a response to that, not one that wasn’t insulting at least, and really she didn’t feel like trying to argue with the thick skulled god before her, it would be pointless, Sans never backed down when it came to a play on words.

Silence stretched before he spoke again. 

“i should be getting back to the celebration, gillby wanted to talk to me regarding a trade of some sort.”

Frisk suddenly felt a pang that made her grimace. She hadn’t realized she’d actually been enjoying the company. Maybe it was because they rarely spoke, or maybe she was just that emotionally vulnerable tonight, but her words were hesitant and honest. 

“I understand...I enjoyed this. The casual conversation.”

Her husband tilted his head.

“i should be thanking you, this was just the break i needed from the crowd.”

Despite herself she chuckled. “Of course, why would I ever assume you asked for my company purely for it alone?” 

He went silent, the brim of his hood covering his sockets as his tone came out blunt. “if this wasn’t what i desired i wouldn’t have asked for this when you offered me a gift in turn.” 

How did he keep doing that? Slipping behind her walls so easily with honeyed words after repeatedly testing their strength with his indifference and often selfish actions? He barely ever tried but it was always enough to make her question her stance on him.

“You’d better hurry back, I don’t think Grillby will be sober enough to remember his reasons if you don’t.” She whispered.

Sans gave a small bow, his hand swiftly cupping hers and bringing it to his teeth for a kiss. When he stood her hand was still lifted, frozen in place by confusion and surprise.

“i bid thee goodnight, happy solstice my queen.”

He vanished.

Frisk opened and closed her mouth dumbly, an almost plea for him to stay forever trapped on the tip of her tongue. She stared at where her husband had stood and slowly pulled out her looking glass.

Her first Solstice in the Underworld hadn’t gone well as it could’ve been, but it was still memorable.

[askvectorprime]

Vector, could you tell us more about Cthonic Maximus? Specifically, the ancient Greeks believed the underworld to contain rivers called Styx, Acheron, Phlegethon, Cocytus and Lethe. Were these also components of Cthonic?

Dear Stygian Soul-Seeker,

Cthonic Maximus was, even for a Titan, vast in both physical and metaphysical aspects. While most city-bots were partnered with only a single Titan Master, or even none at all, Cthonic was bonded with a team of five, each overseeing a different aspect of the Titan's mighty systems.

Styx was responsible for Cthonic Maximus's shields and defensive systems. Her domain took the form of a vast network of energy fields that interwove throughout the Titan's body, a lattice all but impenetrable to outsiders. For any other being to pass through these fields, they would have to be carried by a Cybertronian with the proper access codes—most often, organics we brought into Cthonic's interior would be transported by his partner-drone, Charon.

Cthonic's cognitive circuits were maintained by Lethe. The tripartite nature of Cthonic Maximus required extra care to maintain synchronicity between Elysium, Asphodel and Tartarus, and Lethe worked closely with myself—in my role as messenger of the Primes—in her duties. In addition to cerebral data transmission, Lethe also oversaw data storage in the form of channels of "memory fluid": a suspension of chemicals created by Dionysus, which both stored memory and could draw it out of a subject, making it useful when we needed human visitors to forget what they saw.

Perhaps the most essential of the Titan Masters was Phlegethon, responsible for maintaining the Titan's volatile power and locomotive systems. The burning energon conduits that coiled throughout Cthonic's body required constant adjustment to temper their fury and prevent excess power from spilling over into the city-bot's streets. While those who met Phlegethon were often taken aback by his seemingly-hot temper, in truth, he was one of the most fastidious bots one could hope to meet.

Acheron oversaw Cthonic Maximus's weapons systems—ironic, for he was a pacifist by nature, and deeply regretted whenever the Titan was forced to enter battle. The circuits that powered these weapons throbbed with exotic radiation, and any organic unfortunate enough to approach would feel a burning pain as if their skin was being stripped away. Cruel and terrible as Cthonic's arsenal was, I dare say that without the Ploutonic Cannons and Bident Missile launchers that his body bristled with, we never would have been victorious in the Othrys War.

Lastly, the most reclusive of the five Titan Masters was Cocytus; they had the sacred duty of maintaining Cthonic Maximus's life-giving hot spot, a vast and silvery pool in the depths of Tartarus. While they spoke little even to their fellow Titan Masters, I do believe they had a certain friendship with Bruticus, a vassal of my uncle Hades and one of the first to emerge from the hot spot under their watch.

I'm sure you can see how, through hazy memories and a lack of understanding of what they saw, the people of ancient Greece would come to believe these five systems to be a series of otherworldly rivers. Truly, the human mind is an incredible thing!

[extremelyblackandwhite]

the unseen one - 02

Pairing: Hades!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: None

A/N: thank you so so much for the feedback, guys. you’re all so nice and lovely, i’m so happy you found it interesting. hope you enjoy this one, lemme know xx

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The Underworld wasn’t something special and James didn’t understand why people would risk their lives to come here. It was a bleak, watery, boring place full of dead souls. He himself had not been to every single corner of the underworld as it was divided into four regions: Tartarus, Elysian Fields, Fields of Mourning and Asphodel Meadows. His job was almost as boring and bleak as what he ruled over. It wasn’t like he could decide who died or what faith did their soul had, he just ruled over them, trying to ensure no one left and returned to the mortal lands.

Most days he just walked around the various river’s shores, ignoring the wails, screams and cries of the new souls travelling to their judgement. He’d grown tired of his place, tired of hearing the three judges, just completely tired. Most gods got to bask into all the pleasures of the world but James had the disappointing job, the one of seeing pure good souls forget their lives and feel no happiness and no sorrow. However, despite ruling the underworld, it wasn’t up to him to decide what the dead felt.

     - You stink of mortals. - he turned his head ever to slightly to see one of the only goddesses that roamed the underworld. Hecate. Hecate, like Thanatos, had also freely given away the memories of her past life and had been there during the time the original Hades ruled. She was a particular odd person to James, being the one of only goddesses capable of good and evil with three faces which she normally hid when dealing with normal deities. Personally, she shared hatred towards mortal with some rumours that her only tears had been shed during the witch hunt and consequential trials. Hecate was also honoured by Zeus, constantly receiving gifts from him. - Why would you go up there?

    - Bored. - James had been used to ignore Hecate, fully knowing she cared for nothing connected to the mortal world. She also despised how James refused to show off the only thing left from his past life, the metal arm. He’d normally hide it under his clothes, wearing a glove and long sleeve whenever he visited the world. - Don’t you have some witches to make company to?

   - You know I love to make you some company, besides Zeus is here to see you. 

   - Fuck. - James mumbled, wishing to throw himself in one of the soul rivers instead of dealing with the biggest egotistical person he’d ever met. He knew what Tartarus looked like, heck he’d even designed a few punishments whenever people rubbed him the wrong way, and he’d still rather be there, surrounded by a pit of fire and all the titans than having to ever speak with Zeus. 

   - Have fun. - she gave him a smirk as she turned around to return to her place of being, the fabrics of her red gown almost floating. The ruler of the underworld groaned as he walked back to his place of living. Once he walked in he was drowned by gods and other underworld dwellers trying to ask for his help and opinion, however, like per usual, he just ignored them, closing the doors of his office behind him. Sadly, today Zeus was here, probably to annoy his head off.

   - Hades. - he spoke in a cheer tone as if he didn’t constantly had workers keep an eye on him.

   - James. - he corrected, walking over to the little silver cart where he kept the ambrosia needed to deal with the annoyance that was Zeus. - Thought our meetings were on Mondays. 

   - Hera said we needed to spend more time together. We’re siblings.

   - We’re not siblings. - James downed his first glass of ambrosia. - And Hera doesn’t care about what you do, so what do you want? 

   - I know you’re new to these sort of things but we follow rules here. Those rules include not leaving the underworld unless required and following what was done before you arrived. - he sat on his desk, right on top of his papers. In the beginning, this disregard for the fact that he ruled over the underworld would’ve made James insane but after centuries of doing this, he had become used to receiving no respect in his own domain. - You need a wife.

   - I’ll remember to kidnap one on my way out. Thank you. - James didn’t want a wife and luckily, no one had reincarnated as Persephone due to Demeter refusing to place the title upon anyone other than his daughter. This meant he could rule by himself, however both Zeus and Poseidon would constantly bring in their bastard daughters, honourable daughters and even countless water nymphs. All constantly turned away by James.

  - This is not a joke. The underworld needs a queen and you’ll have to find one. 

  - Once I found the most beautiful maiden that’ll make me commit kidnapping, I’ll let you know. - James opened the door, ignoring the ramblings of Zeus as he left.

The rest of the day wasn’t too exciting. He’d mostly keep souls in tract and if some decision needed making or the court of judgment tied, he would come in to give his opinion. He rarely had festivals or cities named after him as most humans who still believed in gods disliked his existence that meaning he had little to no excuse to leave during daylight. 

James longed for nighttime which always gave him a chance to return to the mortal world. It was bleak but it had once been his home so every time the sun settled the earth would open and he’d exit the underworld. This night was a particular cold one which meant he could roam around freely. He walked the streets of the neighbourhood he once used to live in. They were different, no longer scared by war, everyone was calm in their homes with their loved ones. Maybe if the fates had spared him the pain of dying the way he did he probably would have a nice family too.

   - Hey, it’s you. - he looked off the ground to see the girl from last night, hair pushed to the side as she held a brown paper bag with a baguette sticking out from it. - I see you took to using the sidewalk, now. 

   - Y/N, right? - he asked and she nodded, the sunniest smile he’d ever seen forming on her face. - I’m James, I realise I was a bit rude last time we saw each other. 

   - Nice to meet you. Did you just move in? I’ve never seen you in the neighbourhood.

  - Uhm yeah, just a bit down the block. - he knew he was lying through his teeth but there wasn’t anyway he could explain to her that he lived way down down below.

  - You should come to the block party, tonight. - she placed her bag of groceries on the other arm. - It’s a bit boring but there’s free food besides it’s a way to meet the neighbours. Besides, I’m part of the committee and I’ve gotten absolutely no one to come, so you’d be making me a favour. 

  - I don’t know how you managed to get no one to come with that invitation of free food. 

  - The cookie dough truck comes along and nothing is better than warm cookie dough with a pint of ice cream. 

  - Alright, Y/N, I’ll come along. 

  - Thank you so much. I’ll see you tomorrow, James.

[elysian-drops]

omg hello??? that’s SO COOL????? i can safely say that answer to your @ was not at all what i was expecting and now i’m so fascinated this is such an interesting field to get into!! is there anything else cool about death rituals or cult traditions you can share? this is actually the coolest thing i’ve learned all day

Hi there!

I’m so glad to hear you think it’s fascinating! I definitely enjoy it as well and I will absolutely share some more because I don’t get to scream about this stuff enough 😂 New slogan for this blog: “Come learn about death and the afterlife with Elysian.” Beware there is a long post under this cut lol.

Personally speaking, my area of expertise tends to focus more on Ancient Greece and Victorian burial practices (they are wild, let me tell you). But as for the cult stuff, I’ll just reference back to my other post on Orphic traditions for a second!

So Orphic traditions were inspired by the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. If you’re not familiar with the tale, the quick run down was that Orpheus, who was a demigod born from Oeagrus and Calliope (my favourite muse, by the way), travelled to the Underworld to retrieve the soul of Eurydice. Now, for the Greeks, this tale held a lot of fascination because few are the times recorded that mortal (or, half-mortal in the case of Orpheus) men could manage to go into the Underworld and come back unscathed. A whole cult tradition was born from this idea of being able to “cheat” your way through the afterlife, essentially.

For some background, a big part to the Greek understanding of the afterlife was this idea of κλέος (kleos or “glory”). You “live on” after death when people remember you— this was the reason behind having large families and putting so much emphasis on children being taught their ancestry. This was also why so many Greeks idolised great ‘heroes’, such as Perseus, Theseus, Heracles, etc— they achieved the greatest form of kleos and are forever immortalized in the afterlife. Obviously, it isn’t feasible for the common man to go out and become a hero— and of course, children and your family will eventually forget you.

So what do you do? Bring on the mystery cults that tell you how to cheat your way into getting kleos and a good afterlife (for a fee, of course 😂). I mentioned that there was one sect of the Orphic tradition that believed in the asphodel or gold drops on the tongue— but there were multiple “branches”. The most popular were the Orphic Gold Tablets which were buried with the dead so they would have a “manual.” These things are so fascinating because they give detailed instructions to the afterlife— they even tell you what to expect when you get there. For example, the translations say once you get to Hades’ mansion, there will be a white cypress tree and a fountain— you can’t drink from the fountain because you will lose your memories/identity. You need to entreat Mnemosyne (the parallel to Lethe) to let you drink from her.

But another hiccup? There are titans guarding her— so you have to get around that. These tablets tell you to proclaim you are not a mortal and you are not a god: you are a Titan. One of my favourite translations has the conversation going like: “Who are you? Where do you come from?”

“I am the son of Earth and starry Heaven”.

Essentially, you’re saying you are born directly from Gaia and Uranus (which were the primordial deities long before the gods + titans were born and long before Kronos and Zeus came into existence). If all goes well, the titans guarding Mnemosyne will recognize you as their brethren and allow you to drink from her to start the long process of achieving your kleos.

If you want to read more on these tablets, I highly recommend “Instructions for the Netherworld” by Alberto Bernabé. It’s an anthology that collects all different translations of these tablets and gives you more detail about the fountains + what to expect for the rest of your journey into Elysium!

Thanks for letting me scream at you for a bit 😂 I absolutely love getting to talk about this stuff lol.

[artisticflutter]

AU Yeah August - Day Thirty-One: Dealer’s Choice

And so the end of another AU Month. It was fun, but now I’ll take a break from monthly fills but just until Inktober/Drawlloween/whatever I decide to do in October. Hope you all enjoyed!

And since most people responded well to my Mythology fills, here’s one more!

Series: Miraculous Ladybug Rating: G Genre: Fluff Pairing(s): Adrinette Summary: The Goddess of Spring doesn’t know where she is, but it’s beautiful. The sight that the God of the Underworld comes across, he’ll never forget it. Warning: No beta!

She’d never felt this cold before and yet, she never expected the Underworld to be so bright. If she had to describe it, it honestly reminded her of the night sky given the way the crystals and gems inlaid into the massive chasm’s walls glowed. And though she could see so many, they were quite high up or at the fair end of the domain she walked through. It was eerie, but beautiful; quiet, but she could sense life somewhere within.

Without Tikki to guide her, Marinette decided to follow that trail towards whatever held life within it. She was cautious, of course, passing by the rivers that flowed through, and keeping quiet as she passed the almost incorporeal forms of mortals wandering the banks. Peering further down, she could even make out a line standing at a dock and there was a boat approaching. Though curious, she didn’t approach and decided to venture elsewhere.

Gliding herself over the river, she continued to walk on the other side, rather surprised how she found solace in this realm. But, if she thought about it, death was just relative to her powers over life. There was no reason she couldn’t be here when all she made would eventually come this way too. And she rather liked feeling alone for once. Even out in her fields, she always felt like she was being watched, but here, there was nothing like that. Walking on, she felt herself drawing closer and gasped when she did reach her destination.

Never had she’d seen such boundless field of asphodels before nor had she’d seen them shimmer like they did before her. And the dark grass growing around them only highlighted the twinkling leaves and petals like fireflies in the meadows above. Was this truly the Underworld? This was the realm where mortal souls came after death? She’d seen the way they lived above; was this terrible for them? Personally, Marinette would love to be here, and she didn’t miss the way the asphodels seemed to change color in her presence. One bloom in particular caught her eyes – how it glimmered with a little more pink to its bloom.

Smiling, she knelt down beside it to have a closer look.

 “What are you doing here?”

 He knew he must’ve startled the Goddess from the way her head whipped in his direction and he almost apologized. ‘Almost’ because he couldn’t summon the words from his lips as he gazed at her and how she shined with an ethereal light in his domain. Was that because of her light of life? Or was it the asphodels in the meadow surrounding them? Maybe it could be both, but no matter what, it seemed wrong of him to gaze upon her.

Adrien had to remind himself that she was the Goddess of Spring, and of all the places she should be, it wasn’t the Underworld.

 “… Do you know where you are? This isn’t a place for a Goddess like you.”

“Mmm, no, I think I can be here.”

 He didn’t expect her to say that and was thrown off again, just watching her quietly as she stood up, straightening out a few extra folds in her dress. Once she finished, she clasped her hands behind her back, humming. “I wasn’t stopped at the cavern’s mouth by the barrier. And aside from feeling cold, I don’t really feel weakened down here. Wouldn’t you say that’s a little strange?”

 “I… might, but you are a Goddess still,” he said slowly, but was puzzled at the predicament. Most Gods, even beings like those over the domain of the Sky and Sea, had their powers dampened. The only exceptions tended to be those who delivered mortal souls to the gates. Shaking his head, he took a step back. “Oddity aside, you should return. If the others find you’re gone, who knows what they’ll do.”

“They can wait. It’s not like I don’t intend to go back,” she said, waving a hand. “Besides, I just found you. It would be rude if we didn’t talk like before.”

He blinked, confused at what she meant, but then felt his face burn. “Oh… uh, did you… did you see me?”

 Drat, he should’ve turned invisible, but while he scolded himself, she stepped forward. He didn’t realize until she was right in front of him, too, almost making him jump back.

 “You didn’t approach me when I was in my field… Why not?”

 He didn’t know which was worse: being unable to answer because he didn’t know how, or being unable to answer because he was distracted. Few Gods dare be this close to him and they often worked with him, but this Goddess, as beautiful as the life she wove, was a hairbreadth away. His hands shook; he wanted to reach out to her, but remembering his black-tipped fingers, he could not. While being in the Underworld might not harm her, he definitely might.

 “… I’m Adrien. It seems like you may not know, but I rule the Underworld. I’m not supposed to go out there unless called upon. Also, as Gods of the opposing domains, our interactions should be minimal at best.”

 The Goddess’s lips parted – though, she wasn’t frightened; merely surprised it seemed.

 “I thought they tried to keep the handsome Gods around mortals. Weird…”

“Handsome?” He felt his face heat up further. He wasn’t unfamiliar with compliments, but who was she to call him handsome when she was so radiant?

 It seemed she noticed her error, or was embarrassed by her mouth getting away from her because after a beat, she covered her face with her fingers parted enough that he could see her eyelids close. “Oh, I’m sorry! I meant to just think that, not say it outloud…! Can we start over real quick? Hi, I’m Marinette, the Goddess of Spring…”

“… Hi, I’m Adrien, God of the Underworld.”

 He could feel his heart beating in his chest. Curse such traitorous organ; he hoped she couldn’t hear it.

 However, unbeknownst to him, Marinette’s heart beat in similar fashion.

 What could this mean? A question they both had to ask themselves as they stood there, gazing at the other, with the sensation that things were right.

[headcanonseverywhere]

Forget Me Not

Plot: Short drabbles regarding my Zeus kid, Clark O’Niell, during his life in the 1940’s, his death, his time at the Fields of Asphodel, and then coming back to the mortal world through the Doors of Death during HoO.

Edit: changed the day where Clark comes back to the mortal world

1940

Clark landed another punch at Thomas Jensen, before getting kicked in the stomach by him. The two boys continued to brawl outside of their high school campus, and a large crowd had already formed around them, as if the entire student body was present.

But a teacher cut through the crowd and immediately broke up the fight, the kids boo’d but quickly went their separate ways as the teacher threatened to give each and every single one of them a month’s worth of after school detention.

“Jensen, O'Neill!” called the teacher. “To the principal’s office! Now!”

The boys glared at each other, but reluctantly obeyed. Once they arrived, they took their seats in front of Principal Bailey’s desk, and he looked at the two very sternly.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked.

“Rat-face here called my mom a whore.” Clark spat, nudging his head towards Thomas’ direction.

“Clark!” the principal barked, and turned to the other guy. “Is this true, Thomas?”

“I didn’t say a word Mr. Bailey.” Thomas answered. “He just came up to me and started acting all crazy!”

“You lyin’ son-of-a-bitch!” Clark shouted, getting up from his seat.

“CLARK!” Principal Bailey yelled again. “Control yourself, or I’ll expel you from this school!”

Clark looked at the principal, whose glare pierced through his soul, and then back at Thomas, who had a smug look on his face before reverting back to his innocent boy look once the principal called for his attention.

“You’re dismissed.” Principal Bailey told Thomas, then faced Clark once more. “And you, this is your last warning!”

And the principal excused Clark out of his office, but as he walked down the hallway, Thomas pushed him to the ground, laughing in amusement.

“Gonna go run to your momma?” he mocked. “Make sure she has no company first, if you know what I mean.”

Clark stood up and quickly grabbed the collar of Thomas’ shirt, pulling it towards him. “I told you not to say shit about my mom, ‘ya rat-face!”

“I’m just telling the truth, ‘ya good-for-nothin’ bastard!” Thomas spat.

Clark’s knuckles had already turned white from gripping onto Thomas’ collar too tight. He was itching to throw a punch at his face, but Principal Bailey’s voice echoed in his mind, threatening him with expulsion if he ever got himself in another fight, and he knew that he’d contact his mother about it. She was already going through so much, he didn’t want to burden her with his antics.

But there was no way he was going to let Thomas get away with it.

With a quick sudden movement, Clark landed his fist on Thomas’ face, and watched him stagger backwards, but this time something strange happened. From the moment his knuckles touched Thomas’ face, he felt as though tiny shock waves poured through them, and even after the punch, he felt his fist pulse like an electric charge. He could even see Thomas’ cheek singed, as though he had lit half of his face on fire, and the confused look on his face matched Clark's.

“What the hell…?” Thomas muttered, and walked angrily over him.

But as Clark was preparing to throw another punch, he heard Principal Bailey shout at the end of the hallway, and he knew he was now in more trouble than ever.

1941

“You’re gonna go fight in the war?” asked Betty.

Betty was a good friend of Clark’s, and the only one that could knock some sense into him. She was awfully pretty too, something that Clark had noticed for quite some time.

“Yeah.” he answered, bringing a lit cigarette to his mouth.

“Did you tell your mother yet?”

“First person I told,” he answered as he puffed out a cloud of smoke. “She bawled her eyes out.”

“Well, she has a reason to, most people don’t come back when they go to war.”

“Not this fella!” Clark pointed his thumb to himself. “I’m gonna fight in that war, beat the enemy, then come back a hero! Then everyone in this goddamn town will know my worth.”

“You don’t have to prove anybody your worth.”

“...Well, at least they’ll shut their trap about me.”

“Clark?” she called to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He turned, and when met with her hazel eyes, he felt his whole chest grow warm, but at the same time, the sorrow in her eyes struck pain in his heart.

“Promise me you’ll come back, safe and sound?” she asked, tightly gripping onto his worn out shirt.

Clark smiled, and gently caressed her cheek. “I promise.”

Betty held back a sob, but smiled nonetheless. Clark smiled as well, amazed by the fact that she still managed to stand her ground, despite all of her feelings bubbling inside. That’s what he liked about her, he wished he could control his emotions like her, to stay level-headed under stress, but as she told him many times before, he was like a fire-cracker, the minute anyone lit up a fuse, he’d cause a ruckus.

As Betty took a deep breath, she grabbed a hairpin from her neatly done hair, and placed it on the palm of Clark’s hand, closing it shut.

“Take this when you go.” she said, almost in a whisper. “As...a little reminder of home.”

Clark opened up his hand, and saw a dainty-looking hairpin of a small batch of forget-me-nots surrounded by pearls.

He smiled. “I will.”

1942

Clark’s ears rang with the sounds of explosions surrounding the trenches. Several men piled on the ground around him, dead. Many of them were fathers, brothers, and lovers, who all had promised to return home after the war.

He reached into his pocket for a brief second, and felt Betty’s hairpin safely inside. For a moment, he was back home, and he could see her soft brown hair blow gently in the wind, as she smiled warmly towards him. He remembered his promise to her, and the pained look in her eyes as she made him promise.

He was going to return home, he was certain of it. 

He tightened the grip on her hairpin.

He was going to return to her.

But the sound of more explosions cut through his train of thought, deafening his ears, and suddenly everything turned white.

Underworld

Everything turned white, and silent.

No more explosions.

No more toxins.

No more smoke and ashes.

It was all a blur. Clark couldn’t remember much of what happened, but then again, time seemed to blend within each other in the trenches. 

All he could remember was the cool metallic feeling of Betty’s hairpin, tightly grasped in his hand.

His hazy vision began to settle, and soon he found himself on a boat, floating on a long, dark river, underneath a cool cave. He couldn’t remember getting there, nor if he had ever been there before. 

“Where’s your payment?” he heard a voice ask.

He looked up, and across from him stood a tall man dressed in a flashy suit, he carried a long oar on one hand, and had the other hand outstretched, waiting.

“For what?” asked Clark.

“For passage to the Underworld, what else?” the man snapped.

“The Underworld?”

The man rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time for this.”

“What’s going on here, where am I?!” Clark continued to ask. “And who are you?!”

The man pressed the bridge of his nose tightly, then let out an irritated sigh. “Charon. I’m Charon, ferryman of the Underworld, and you--my friend--have just kicked the bucket.”

Clark paused. “I...I died?”

“Yep.”

He pressed his hands against his body, and for a second he didn’t believe Charon, for he felt just fine, but then he looked down at his clothes and froze.

His uniform was drenched in blood, covered in large tears and holes, and parts of it were burnt to a crisp.

In an instant, he remembered the explosions, and he finally realized that he had died. He died in the trenches, along with the other men who had fallen before him.

He remembered his promise to Betty, and tears formed in his eyes.

He would never see her again.

“Now, where’s your payment?” Charon asked again, his hand still outstretched.

“I don’t have any, I died.”

“Every soul that embarks into the Underworld carries with them gold drachmas.” Charon explained. “You should be no different.”

“D-Drachmas? Look, I don’t have any dough on me! I’m dead, how can I have money if I’m dead?!”

Charon stared at him for a long time, studying him, as though he was searching for payment all throughout him, until his eyes fell onto his shirt pocket.

“Check in there.” he said, pointing at Clark’s pocket.

He reached into his pocket, and was surprised to find a handful of golden drachmas, and as he observed the coins, he couldn’t help but notice faint bolts of lightning flicker between them.

Charon inched his hand closer, and Clark handed the drachmas to him. He smiled, placing them inside the pocket of his pinsuit.

“Welcome to the Underworld.” he said, and began to row the boat down the river.

Judgement

Clark reached a pavilion. It was dark, spacious, with a looming ceiling that felt infinite, as though connected to the night sky. A grand table stood ahead of him, and on it sat three men who looked directly at him. “Come forth, Clark O’Neill.” said a booming voice.

He slowly approached, and as he did he began to recognize two of the three, Thomas Jefferson, the third president of the United States, and William Shakespeare, the renowned English writer and poet he was forced to learn about in school. He couldn’t recognize the third man, but knew he must have been part of Ancient Greece, for he wore a tunic similar to the ones he’d seen in his school books.

“Fields of Punishment.” said the third man, glaring down at Clark.

“Not so fast, King Minos.” said William Shakespeare. “It is too early to decide.”

“It is evident! He was a nuisance, selfish, and never contributed anything good to society.”

“I went to war!” Clark raised his voice.

“And disrespectful towards authority!” added King Minos. “Fields of Punishment it is!”

“I disagree.” said Thomas Jefferson, calmly. “Like he said, he fought in a war. He willingly risked his life to fight a fight caused by others. If anything, that shows an immense act of selflessness to me.

“He also respected his mother,” he continued. “And protected those he loved around him. He was a loyal son, and friend. Perhaps Elysium is the best option?”

“Bah! You give any demigod entry to Elysium just for fighting a measly war.”

“Perhaps you wouldn’t understand the hardships of war, since you were the one to always cause the conflict.”

“Do not forget that I was king! I’ve fought in battles long before you came into existence!”

“Silence.” said Shakespeare, and the two men ceased their bickering. He returned to face Clark.

“Clark O'Neill,” he began. “Son of Mildred O'Neill and Zeus, king of the gods.”

“Zeus?” Clark repeated, utterly confused.

But Shakespeare paid no attention to his comment, and continued. “You fought bravely in the war above, and proved yourself to be loyal, but there were also times in which you acted on impulse, fueled by your own anger.

“You have done good, but also committed many flaws in your life. To the Fields of Asphodel you go.”

The Doors of Death

Time felt non-existent in the Fields of Asphodel. Clark felt himself drift aimlessly along with the millions upon millions of translucent souls around him.

He could barely remember what his life was like prior to dying, except for flashes of memories he thinks are his. One memory appeared to be of himself fighting a rather bulkier guy of his age, another seemed to be of a familiar older woman, with a tired but loving look on her face as she gazed upon him, and another memory seemed to be of a young girl about his age, with soft brown hair, and a warm smile.

He stopped for a moment, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, and absentmindedly reached to his pocket. In his hand was a dainty-looking hairpin with a batch of forget-me-nots surrounded by pearls.

His hands suddenly sparked, and a chill ran down his spine. The image of the young girl bore deep into his mind, and suddenly he remembered. Her name was Betty, and she had given him her hairpin as a reminder of home, and of herself, as well as his promise to come back.

He also remembered his mother, who always managed to find hope in the bleakest of times, and he even remembered Thomas Jensen, who always gave him a hard time for not having a father.

His father.

He remembered the Judgement Pavilion, and Shakespeare revealing his parentage.

He was the son of Zeus, god of thunder and king of the gods.

He stumbled backwards a bit, as all of his memories that now resurfaced his mind gave him a slight headache. He looked back down at Betty’s hairpin, and knew he had to go back.

But how?

Go to the Doors of Death.

He looked around in search of the voice he had just heard, but no one seemed to have spoken to him. Then, he felt his body pull forward, and found himself walking in a direction he hadn’t gone before, to a place he wasn’t sure where it would lead.

Finally, he saw two tall doors loom before him. They were slightly ajar, and a sliver of light broke through. He saw a few souls slip through them, and felt an urge to do the same.

He approached the Doors of Death, and part of him wasn’t sure if it was right, but part of him knew he had to. He couldn’t stop thinking about Betty, and her warm smile, and her beautiful hazel eyes. He wanted to see her again, he wanted to hold her in his arms and tell her how much he missed her, how much he loved her.

The light from the doors grew brighter and brighter, until it completely blinded him, turning everything white.

2010

He felt like he was dreaming. Everything felt familiar, but different all at the same time. Everything was much louder and cramped. Cars zoomed past like lightning, and hundreds of people moved closely together, speaking over each other all at once.

He felt dizzy, and his head hurt, but he kept moving forward. His mind could only think of Betty, and he firmly grasped her hairpin, as though just by its mere touch made her closer to him.

He continued to move along, without any destination in mind, and gathered the attention of only two or three people--who had noticed him dressed in a bloody soldier uniform, and were giving him very concerned looks--when he bumped straight into a young woman.

“Sorry.” he said.

“That’s ok, that’s fine!” she said, though she looked like she was in a hurry, constantly looking over her shoulder.

But she finally took a good look at him, and suddenly her face switched from impatience to alarm.

“Oh my gods, are you okay?!” she asked.

Before he could reply, the young woman gasped and drew a bronze dagger out of thin air, and suddenly a hideous monster emerged from around the block.

“What is that?!” he cried.

“You can see it?!” the girl asked him, perplexed.

The monster stopped in their tracks, and observed the two. It hissed in delight. “Two demigods stand helplessly before me, oh lucky day!”

“Demigods?” the girl faced Clark. “You’re a demigod?”

“I...I think so.” he said.

 “A son of the eldest gods.” the monster hissed, as it carefully observed Clark. “Lucky day it is!”

The young woman charged at the monster, stabbing it with her dagger. The monster hissed and swatted her away, but she was quick, and stepped to the side, digging her blade deep into the monster’s skin again, and it howled in pain.

Clark watched as she fought the monster, and although she was a good fighter, the monster was stronger, and seemed to be quickly overpowering her. He didn’t know what to do, he tried looking around to ask anyone for help, but no one seemed to have noticed the fight, nor the monster that was literally right in front of them.

He felt helpless and he hated that, and recalled his time at school, as Thomas Jensen would mock him at any given moment, making him feel weak and pathetic. He also recalled his neighbors giving his mom nasty looking and muttering mean things behind her back, all for raising a son on her own, and he couldn’t do much about it, for no matter how much he shouted, or how hard he punched, they would always look down on him, and he would always feel helpless.

His blood boiled with rage, and suddenly he felt his hands spark and crackle like lightning, and before he knew it he was inches away from the monster’s face, landing an electric-fueled punch on its face, and watched as it flew back several feet, crashing into a brick wall, leaving a huge dent.

The monster shook itself up, glaring straight towards Clark, and a low growl left its throat. The young woman--who was watching from the sidelines--looked at him in awe, but soon regained her stance as the monster charged forward.

The two continued fighting the monster, Clark landed more lightning punches, while the girl slashed and tore its flesh with her dagger. Slowly, the monster became overwhelmed, until it burst into a pile of dust. The two kids stood, panting, and watched as the dust began to sink into the ground.

But suddenly, the dust began to bubble up, resurfacing from the ground, and slowly the monster began to reform.

“It’s not dead?!” Clark cried.

“Unfortunately.” the girl replied. “Monsters aren’t staying dead like they used to.”

She turned around and grabbed a hold of his wrist. “We gotta go quick, before it fully spawns itself back to life!”

“Where are we going?”

“To Camp Half-Blood, you’re a demigod too, so it’s only logical for you to come with me!”

And the girl took off, with him following close behind. Clark looked back, and saw the monster already spawning, half of its body fully formed.

They ran until they reached a bus terminal, and entered a boarding travelling bus.

“Where is this camp?” he asked once they took their seats.

“Long Island.” she replied. “Chiron’s gonna want to have a word with you.”

“Charon?”

She laughed. “No, Chiron. He’s the camp’s activity director--I’ll explain more on the way.”

As the last passenger climbed aboard, the bus took off.

“What you did back there was amazing.” the girl said, as they drove down a highway. “There aren’t that many demigods like you nowadays.”

“Speaking of which...what day is it today?” Clark asked, carefully.

The girl scoffed as she blinked in confusion. “Friday?”

“Of what? What day, month...year?”

“...July 5th, 2010? Why do you want to know?”

Clark felt his soul nearly leave his body again. The last time he was alive, it was the year 1942...it has been sixty-eight years since his death.

He thought of Betty, and his hand instinctively went to his pocket. He felt the metallic touch of her hairpin, and his heart sank.

He was never going to see her again. Ever.

[eyeslikefoxglove]

Episode 4 - Meng Yao has a crush & Foxglove likes to babble

Hello everybody, welcome to episode 4. I slept like a baby last night, but I have a migraine so I may sound a bit incoherent. (Post episode Foxglove here, I’m not incoherent in this, I’m just ranty)

Poor WWX. Funny story, during my first? Second? Year of Med School I fell aspleep on my biophysics notes during exam period, woke up at 9pm when my alarm for my meds started ringing, realised what I’d done and called my mum (who was on a 24h shift at the hospital) crying. In hindsight is hilarious because I had something like two weeks until the exam so I lost no more than a few hours but oh well.

Full disclosure here: I don’t like the Lan sect, LXC, LWJ and the Ducklings excluded I think they’re a bunch of hypocrites. You can’t call yourself righteous and boast about your almost 4000 rules and then shrug when people decide to commit genocide.

Also, 4000-ish rules? Fuck that noise, there’s a post floating around here where some amazing soul translated what they could see of the Wall of Rules and yeah, some of them are in the “don’t be an asshole, don’t hurt yourself or others” vein which, absolutely fair. But things like “dress properly” who are you to tell me what and how I cover my body with? “Don’t be promiscuous” wow thanks for the slut shaming my dudes. “Don’t smile foolishly/don’t smile too much”, “sit properly”, “don’t be too sad”, “don’t be too happy”. You’re telling me these are rules, not guidelines, not common sense stuff. RULES. You’re telling me people get punished for grinning or crying. Fuck off mate.

And we can’t forget the golden example of hypocrisy “Don’t talk to Wei Wuxian” so much for “don’t speak ill of others”.

Is my Western Girl showing? I’m sorry, I’m from Spain and I was raised by the guidelines “don’t be an asshole, don’t hurt yourself or others, don’t take anyone’s bullshit, live and let live, have courage and be kind, we will always love and support you” so some stuff in here is very very grating. I don’t have enough knowledge about the culture to discern if it is because of my modern sensibilities or because my culture is so different.

Oooooohhh I don’t like birds. I mean, I love crows, ravens and birds of prey to an unhealthy degree, but they keep their distance. The other day a pigeon flew into my building and decided that my (very dark) doorstep was the place to have a rest. I screamed like a banshee.

Hey, those two assholes at the back, get the fuck out of here.

LXC protective mode activated.

You will never convince me Meng Yao did not develop a monster crush right then and there.

Oh no. It’s this asshole.

Oh WangJi about to cut a bitch.

Drag him WWX.

MY’s protective mode activated.

And LXC is too done with this shit. Yep, NHS also thinks MY got a massive crush.

WQ aka Qishan Wen’s only braincell.

It’s the One Braincell Trio!

Notice me sempai! Omg JC’s faces.

This is where I dump all my canon-divergence AUs:

Meng Yao stays in Cloud Recesses. He and LXC keep gazing longingly into each other’s eyes.

NHS introduces him to the other two from the One Braincell Trio. WWX takes one look at him and goes “yep, you’re my friend now, I’m kneecapping anybody who fucks with you.” Because there’s no way he wouldn’t be sympathetic to MY after his own childhood (omg, both of them drunk, making terrible gallows’ humour jokes about living poor and mostly homeless while JC and NHS just listen horrified). JC goes into overprotective bro mode with MY. I mean, he still can’t emote for shit but he’s made very very sure that he will cut a bitch for MY and at least he knows MY has a brain, not like someone else he knows.

Shijie makes friends with MY because Shijie is a goddess and MY is so confused because how the hell does someone so kind exist? And she wants to be friends? And she doesn’t care at all about his past? What? MY.exe has stopped working.

Maybe JZX gets his head out of his ass and goes to talk to MY and warn him about what an asshole JGS is, because I refuse to think JZX doesn’t know it. Maybe MY hears him disparaging Shijie and decides that nope, the Jins can fuck right off every single one of them is a rude idiot; it’s ok with him because of his parentage (it’s not ok) but no one touches Shijie. The Yunmeng sibs is where it is at.

And that’s when he unleashes his full Slytherin powers on behalf of his new family. Because he does indeed have a fully functioning brain and shit is going to get really ugly really fast for all the people he loves if he doesn’t try and mitigate the damage somehow.

(A lot of mutual XiYao pinning is going on in the background because I live for the angst ok. LWJ fully approves of him as a brother-in-law tho)

A lot of terrible shit still happens because this is my AU and I want pain, but not only does JGS not have MY’s enormous brain on his side when he tries to seize power, he’s actively working against him (you can’t tell me MY wouldn’t get the kick of his life publicly bringing down and exposing his terrible father).

I’m sorry, back to the commentary.

This two idiots omg.

It’s WQ! Drag him WQ (gently)

I’m going to channel my ballet teacher here for a second: put your hair up! (You bunch of spider crabs, as she would call us)

I mean, JC’s hair is clearly in his face when he’s doing drills and, while the visual of all that dark hair whipping in the wind with the robes (another beef I have, they look like they’d catch on everything) is very dramatic I can assure you it’s fucking annoying. Plus it limits your visual field a lot. Again, I know jack about the culture and people can fly on swords here so why am I complaining about hair but let me live.

I used to have that much hair (then I got a pixie, now I’m growing it back out) and smacking yourself on the face with your own braid hurts.

Shijie knows what’s up with Jiang “I can only show anger” Cheng.

My one track mind when I saw the fish: Anisakis!

I think I would absolutely become a vegetarian if I got dropped in the past tbh. Not only is there no quality control of animal products (hello Trichinella), there’s also no way to do a proper cold storage (hello Salmonella). I’ve read and seen to many horror stories due to contaminated animal byproducts and, while vegetables pose their own risk (hello E. Coli) usually you only have to be thorough at washing and peeling to not have trouble.

5am wake up call without coffee. Fuck that noise.

Wei “I’m a petty gremlin” Wuxian.

I once called WWX a “mad scientist with ADHD” on an AO3 comment and I stand by that assessment.

Ok, but why the turtle caricature? It’s because turtles are “old and wise” like LQR? Is that the joke? Or are they laughing at WWX’s balls?

AW NO PAPERMAN.

“Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood? // Where, would you look if I asked you to get me a bezoar? // And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?” It’s pretty much the same energy. LQR is Ancient magic China’s version is Severus Snape down to the pettiness. He tries to catch WWX in a mistake, and when he can’t he dismisses his knowledge (look at Shijie’s face when he says WWX should not be proud to know what he does). He keeps pushing until WWX’s runs into a wall, then uses LWJ to “show him how it’s done” I mean, look how smug he looks and how uncomfortable everyone else is.

“Pity... clearly, fame isn't everything.”

(No, I don’t like LQR and I don’t like Severus Snape either; tragic past and sacrifices do not give you a pass to abuse children don’t @ me, I’m not interested in changing my mind)

And here is where all my “mad scientist with ADHD” hc stem from.

“No screaming in Cloud Recesses.” Screams LQR (yes, I’m 100% that bitch)

WEN NING IS HERE HI WN YOURE SO PRECIOUS.

But intercepting an arrow mid flight is some Geralt of Rivia Witcher bullshit right there.

Detective Wei strikes again.

The scenery is gorgeous my god.

Can we talk again about how this 16-year-old boy reacted to someone sneaking up on him by drawing his sword and attacking? That’s not fucking normal, that’s a common reflex in soldiers or people with PTSD.

(The Netflix translation has him calling LWJ “WangJi” and I die)

Thanks for reading!

[chthoniaas]

" K-- Persephone, I know I haven't spoken of him in ages and honestly I still find it difficult even now but, " Demeter halts, seriously considering if she's ready to lower those icy walls surrounding her wounded heart, " Do you ever think of him? Your father? "

@corncpia

        It’s almost instinct for her to get close. A lifetime ago, she would’ve stayed near her mother’s side and listen to her every word. Clinging to it like loneliness clung to her form then. Persephone feels the tug, the voice in the back of her mind telling to move... but their relationship is too fragile for that. They’re not who they were before all of this and that much is obvious. She’s tasted freedom, independence. Now, she’s mindful of her distance.

        Her arms cross against her chest as she sighs, not willing to look Demeter in the eyes. What could they possibly talk about? Where do they even begin to fix things? Persephone left -- not entirely of her own accord, but she found joy in fleeing Olympus. She left her mother behind and condemned the earth beneath her cold grief. And now she has to lie to her about everything that’s happened. It’s at the mention of her father that her position changes. Persephone’s head snaps up as her gaze turns towards her mother. There’s such strong emotions in those green eyes of hers; sadness, guilt, nostalgia. He’s been gone for a long time now, but how could she forget him? He sung to her at night and danced with her in fields of barley and grain. He’d sit her on his lap and tell her stories of his former home, of distant lands she once hoped to visit. She loved him terribly -- and still does.

        ❝ Please, Mother... If this is too hard, don’t push yourself. We don’t have to talk about this now. ❞ An attempt at a smile rises on her face, despite the guilt and grief that’s flooding in. She reaches to take one of Demeter’s hands in her own, squeezing gently. ❝ Not as often as I should, but yes, I do. He’s here in the Underworld, Mother. In Elysium or Asphodel. I don’t know where exactly, but what I do know is that he’s at peace. Knowing that he’s found a home here makes thinking of him easier. ❞

[thegrapeandthefig]

What do you think about death within hellenic polytheism? Its always felt to me like we are shrugged off and abandoned by the Gods, left for hades and seen as unclean. Its my main issue that keeps me away from a total conversion from Christianity. I make offerings to the gods but my mind can't forget "memento mori" of my christian side. Idk just curious how other pagans feel about death and the afterlife

Hi Anon, 

this is a very packed question and before I come to answering it I think it’s fair that I give you a little of background information about myself: 

I have never been Christian nor raised in Christianity, as the household I grew up in was atheist. 

The cultural Christianity I know is Catholicism.

I am pretty death positive as a whole. 

Now, to your question about how I, personally, feel about the afterlife: 

The “traditional” Ancient Greek view on afterlife is that it’s pretty neutral. The afterlife is just that, another life in another dimension. Unless you’ve been a terrible, terrible human being, there’s no reason for you to end up in Tartarus (which would be the equivalent of Hell) and then again, we don’t really have clear moral guidelines as to how to end up there (in myth, the people who are said to be gone in Tartarus have either murdered someone and/or tortured someone). 

So a normal person would probably end up going to the Asphodel Meadows which are very neutral. Asphodels are flowers, so this afterlife is presented as fertile and quite pretty tbh. And if you’ve been a very prestigious/heroic person, tradition tells you could go in the Elysian Fields where it is said that you could just engage in whatever brings you pleasure. 

My very personal opinion is that I really don’t care. I don’t think I’ve been nasty enough to be put in Tartarus, so my fate according to the myths would be the Asphodel Meadows. And that sounds pretty alright, it just means a new “life” somewhere with other spirits as potential neighbors and pretty flowers. Nothing in the Greek version looks or sounds unclean to me about it. Does it sound slightly boring from a mortal point of view? Perhaps, but perhaps having nothing to worry about as a spirit isn’t such a bad thing in the end. 

I also want to point out that some Hellenic cults (like Orphism) believed in reincarnation. I don’t know enough about this particular standpoint to give a detailed answer about how it works and how your current life could determine a potential next life but in that case, the afterlife is even less something to worry about. 

So yeah, I’d rather concentrate on living a life that pleases me right now instead of wondering what would become of my poor soul once dead. I have no moral pressure aside from being respectful to my Gods and keeping myself to be a decent human being at the very least. And I pray Thanatos to grant me a peaceful death, what happens after matters less. 

[baby-bearie]

Flames - T.H.

for @starksparker‘s summer writing challenge!

summary: The ruler of the Underworld isn’t supposed to be soft on anybody, except he kind of is.

genre: some fluff, angst

warnings: blood, the piece is about the Underworld, so.

pairing: Hades! Tom x Persephone! reader

word count: 2k

a/n: the plot doesn’t exactly follow the story of Hades and Persephone, so don’t expect the same story. and thank you, @blissfulblake and @peachyosterfield for beta reading parts. this is the second upload because the tags got screwed the first time. 

She really didn’t mean to end up in the Underworld. Nobody really means to end up in the Underworld. She had been exploring her mother’s land, picking flowers as beautiful as she was to tuck into her hair, wildly blowing behind her. She had gone far out into the fields. farther than ever before. She didn’t know, okay? She couldn’t be blamed, there really should have been something to signal that a certain hidden tunnel would lead to the Underworld. But she didn’t know.

And so as she walked farther into the fields, much too far for her mother to see her, let alone call out to her to tell her not to go there, she stumbled upon it. She had only been curious. Anyone who comes upon a flaming blue tunnel leading out of a peaceful field of flowers would be curious. She swiveled her head around, looking for anything else out of the ordinary. But nothing was.

She could see only as far as the fields went, which seemed to stretch out as long as the ocean. She turned a bit, checking to see whether her mother had followed her out to the fields. But when she turned back around, he was standing in front of her. 

It was clear he hadn’t been expecting her. It was clear he wasn’t looking for a disruption from whatever it was he attended to down there. His hair was ruffled, his dark suit and navy blue tie seemed pristine, although if you really looked, the cuffs were stained with blood. The fire that burned behind his eyes was the same blue as the fire that made the Underworld, his Underworld, the burning hell it was. 

As she turned around, that same fire sparked with a new intensity, a somehow gentler intensity. His breath hitched.

“Y/n.”

She took a step back.

“Tom, you scared me.”

Of course she knew him, everybody knew Tom. He was known for all the wrong reasons. He ruled over the Underworld, of course they knew his name. However, they knew his name, not him. They knew what he did, not who he was.

“I get that a lot.”

Everybody knew Y/n. They knew her as Demeter’s daughter, a real beauty. She was known for who she was, not what she did. People smiled when she was mentioned. When she was around, you could smell flowers and some said they tasted sugar water. She knew everyone by name, and even the rudest people couldn’t hold a single flaw against her.

“What, uh, what are you doing here?” Tom crosses his arms over themselves, suddenly needing to cover up the blood. He was always so careful around her. He couldn’t be the one to introduce her into a much, much darker and scarier world than the one she lived in.

Y/n’s hands fiddled with each other. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She had come the wrong way. This was the field her mother had told her not to wander to, and never to go to alone.

“I, uh, I was just looking around the fields.” She smiled. Tom couldn’t help but smile back. But it was different. Usually when Tom smiled, it felt dark. It felt malicious, crude. This felt light. He felt bashful under her eyes, which had never seemed to leave his face since she had arrived.

Her hands moved to the hem of her dress, fiddling with the linen hem. The material had stopped flowing. Anywhere else, the wind blew her dress around her knees. Here, in front of him, it fell against her.

She leaned over, peeking around Tom.

“What’s down there?”

“Uh, that’s, uh,” he stopped as you began to giggle and Tom swears he’d trade all the sounds of the Underworld just to hear it again.

“I’m messing with you. I know what the Underworld is, I’m not that stupid,” you smiled, peeking around his body again, “But I’ve never been down there.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to.”

You smiled sweetly, stepping around Tom.

“Mm, I think I do,” You peered over the edge. Tom turned around.

“Y/n, I really don’t- “Oh, come on, Tom. It’ll be fun.” You slyly spoke over your shoulder, and before Tom could protest again she slipped down the tunnel, and Tom stared at the tunnel for a second before rushing down after her. The hole in the ground widened for him, and he descended into his kingdom. He hurriedly stumbled onto the cool floor. He swiveled around, and caught sight of her white dress turning the corner towards his palace. 

“Y/n, wait!” He ran after her, shrugging as spirits gave them both very odd stares.  He ran past the guards, who had seemingly already let the girl inside. 

“Idiots,” He spoke through gritted teeth as he walked past them, following Y/n. He found her in the main hall of his palace, looking very out of place in the middle of blue fires and dark statues. She took a look around, before she saw Tom. He stood at the entrance to the hall. She smiled at him. 

“You know, you could really lighten up this place up a bit.” 

He walked towards her. 

“Y/n, I’m going to be in a lot of trouble if-”If my mom finds out I came down here. I’ll deal with it, I came down here on my own. I love my mom, but she can be a little overbearing.” 

She looked past Tom before grabbing a hold of his hand, causing his eyes to widen before she pulled him out of the room, asking him for “The greatest tour of the Underworld he can give.” 

Tom did his best, but the smoothest, merciless, most mysterious man in all the three worlds stuttered over his words and couldn’t keep his mind straight around Y/n. He complied to her wishes, leading her to the Asphodel Meadows were souls wandered and to the Elysian Fields where they could rest. However, Tom did his best to keep her away from the Fields of Punishment, not wanting Y/n to see the part of his work he was most known for. When she had seen enough, he walked her to the entrance to her own world. 

Five star tour, Tom. I’ll have to come back sometime?” Her voice was almost hopeful.

“Oh no, Y/n, you really can’t, don’t, you can’t.” Tom struggled to articulate how much he wanted her to be here, to stay here, to come here all she wanted while he struggled to tell her how she couldn’t come back, how it was bad for her, how she didn’t belong in a world like this. 

Her face fell, and Tom’s voice stopped.

“I get it. It was really nice of you to show me around.” She bit her lip, wanting to say more, but stopped.

“Bye, Tom.”

She turned and ascended up the tunnnel into that same meadow.

Tom stood there, helpless, watching her leave. He barely noticed the Fate that came to rest next to him.

“You love her.” She whispered.

“I just met her.” Tom scoffed.

“You forget I can see your past, Tom. You’ve already asked Demeter for her hand.”

“So has every other suitor. She said no, anyways.”

“For fuck’s sake, Thomas. Go!”

Tom turned to look at the Fate but she was gone. He ran a hand through his hairs before very ungracefully scrambling up the tunnel. He shot up and straightened out his suit.

“Y/n! Y/n, wait!”

She turned to look at Tom.

“I take it back. Come back, come back anytime you want, I really want to see you soon. Please. I’m sorry.”

She smiled, a simple trace of a smile, almost non-existant. She bit her lip, about to tell him how much she wanted to come back, how she’d be back very soon, how she hoped he’d let her do at least a bit of redecorating-

“Y/n! Is that you?” She heard her mother began to call her, the voice getting closer.

She turned to Tom, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his lips. Tom watched her run from him, mouth slightly parted in shock.

She tasted like honey.

And she did come back. Every day, in fact. She told her mother she was going to the market, or to the ocean, only to wind up in the same meadow in front of Tom. And she did redecorate. All the inhabitants of the Underworld began to see her touch in every corner. Even the Elysian fields somehow became lighter and happier as her time in the Underworld grew and grew. Eventually, Tom often let her wander around alone as he attended to a few things.

Which was a mistake on his part.

She didn’t really know her way around yet, it was an entire world she was exploring. 

One day, she had taken a turn she usually never did. She continued her walk, but she no longer recognized anything around her. As she walked, the blue flames around her grew hotter, enclosing around her. The sound of screamed pleas became louder and distinct. The blue flames turned to red and danced menacingly around her. She saw the chains, the tops disappearing into smoky clouds. 

Then she saw the blood. 

She froze.

He was in front of her in an instant, but it wasn’t her Tom. It wasn’t the same Tom that made sure she was comfortable in his palace. It wasn’t the same Tom that re-furnished his Great Hall because she was excited to. It wasn’t the same Tom that trained his three-headed dog to bark quietly whenever she was around. This Tom had red fire for eyes. He was wearing the same suit he was the first day she came to the Underworld, but there was so much blood. His hands were on her arms. 

“Y/n, what are you doing here? You can’t be here!”

He was right in front of her, but his voice sounded like he stood at the other side of a room. She took a few steps back, stumbling out of his grasps. She looked down at her arms, now tinted with blood. She scrambled away from him, desperately trying to rub the red off of her, to get rid of every last trace of whoever’s blood had been spilled away from her, to convince herself she had nothing to do with this, with them. She looked back up, eyes locking with Tom, who was unfortunate enough to see the absolute terror in her eyes. He reached out to touch her, but she all but leaped back, the flames tickling her calves. She turned and she ran. She ran all the way back to the blue flames, ran past Cerberus, who lifted his head in wonder as she dashed past, ran through the palace, collecting everything of hers she saw, and she ran back into the meadow. She ran all the way home, and not once did she turn around to see if he would come after her. He wouldn’t. She knew it and he knew it. If she didn’t want to see him, he wouldn’t go after her. 

She didn’t come back the next day. Or the day after that. Or the next. Which was actual hell for Tom, who lived in Hell. He had made the stupid mistake of letting her touch be on everything. The palace, the fields, his dog, and stupidly, his heart. And she had left her trace on everything she touched, and it all reminded Tom of her, and how stupid he had been to have let her in, to have told her to come back, to set himself up for the inevitable. 

When she ran, she took with her a bit of Tom. She took with her most of the sanity he kept. She took with her his gentle words. She took with her a part of Tom that everyone was just getting used to. He was empty.

She’s never coming back.

And neither is he.  

tags: @blissfulblake @kvd963 @seaveyssparkle @tigerreece @peachyosterfield @tigerreece @jonahmaraisstuff @bibbybittersweet @katie-avery @zachheroin @babyzacharyy @0totally-tubular0 @annabseavey 

[silvereddaye]

Here’s a preview of my upcoming fic, Godhood. A Greek God AU. 

Summary: Han Solo has entered Hades to find and return his lost love Qi'ra. However, shortly upon entering the land of the dead, he meets a pair of twins who offer to tell Han where Qi'ra resides . . . for a price. Han quickly realizes these two twins aren't normal citizens of the dead. They are something more. Something alive. They don't belong down in underworld, but up in the living world above. The two don't want to leave. Frustrated, Han takes Leia to the mortal realm to show her what it's really like not knowing she is the daughter of Darth Vader, god of Hades.

Chapter 1: 

Han landed with a hard thump. The ground was brittle and bit into his back, legs, and arms. He slowly lowered his head as his vision spun. The calls of the winged monsters rang loudly overheard. Despite the pain, Han couldn’t help but smile. He had done it. He had crossed the River Acheron without having to cross on Charon’s boat. Han patted the pouch that hung from his belt. He could feel the two coins still in there. 

Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet. He looked behind him at the dark purple waters of the Acheron. The waves rose and fell and twisted and formed human shapes. They arms were reaching out of the waves. Their fingers falling apart into foam. They clawed and screamed. Their eyes wide. But no sounds were heard but the soft rush of the water hitting the rocky shore. Acheron was the river of pain, but he didn’t have time to dwell on that.

Han stood up and looked at the vast underground cavern. Crossing the Acheron meant he was now in the land of the dead, Hades. The cavern was dark and filled with sharp rock columns that disappeared into the darkness overhead. The ceiling wasn’t visible. Han sighed. He needed to hurry, so he started to walk along the shore. He eyed the waters uncomfortably. The dead who were unable to pay the ferryman were forever trapped in those waters. They were all too willing to drag anyone down into the depths should they venture too carelessly to the water’s edge. 

The silence grew except for the soft rush of waves on the rocky shores. The caws of winged monsters were dying out as they flew away. Han focused on the sound of the rocks crunching under his sandals. 

“Did you just ride a drexl over the river?” 

Han jumped. He went scurrying back, but stopped himself after a few short steps. He eyed the water. Hands formed the white foam of the soft waves. They were ready for the moment Han got too close. Han quickly stepped away and looked up. He froze and gaped. Sitting on a rock was a young man. A teenager from the looks of it. And he clearly wasn’t dead. 

In fact, he looked so painfully alive. More alive than Han had ever seen anyone. There was a golden glow about him. The youth had tanned skin and golden blond hair. His eyes were a bright blue like the sky. He was dressed in a white chiton tunic that was tied around his waist and leather sandals. A black stripe ran along his tunic and a red pattern above that. He carried no pouch or weapons. 

“I’ve never seen a mortal do that before,” the youth said. His voice was intoxicating. Melodious. Han wondered if he was a singer. “Why not just take the ferry?”

“I need to save the coin,” Han said. His own voice sounded rough in comparison. 

“Oh?” 

“I’m here to find Qi’ra. I need two coins for us both to go back,” Han explained. 

“Qi’ira? Your love?” The boy’s eyes sparkled as he asked. For a second Han was standing under the night sky. Thousands of stars lit up the sky. Then he was back just looking into the boy’s eyes. Han blinked and then blinked again trying to clear his head. Did this boy ever blink?

“Yeah,” Han said slowly. “I promised I’d come back for her. And . . . I meant it. Even if that means coming into Hades itself.” 

“How long ago did she come to Hades?” the boy asked. 

“What?” 

“How long ago? That will depend on where she is at in her journey.” 

“I uh . . .” 

Han paused as he looked at the youth. The youth had mentioned mortals. Was he not a mortal? The youth jumped off his rock and grabbed Han’s arm. It felt warm and soft yet strong. 

“Come,” he said and pulled Han away from the river. Up a rocky incline they went. The walls of the cavern slowly appearing out of the darkness. In the wall was a jagged opening. A slice within the rock. The boy pulled him into the tunnel. 

Then the youth started to run. His hold on Han was tight, so Han was forced to run with him. He tried to say something, but found his mouth felt thick. As if filled with thick honey. He was barely keeping his feet under him. His free arm waved wildly about. Any moment now Han would trip.

But soon, light grew ahead of them. Soon they came out of the tunnel into another large cavern. They were in a forest of tall trees. The trees were thin and tall with white bark and silver leaves. Short gray grass grew among the roots. 

“That way,” the youth waved to their right, “is the Asphodel Meadows. That is where ordinary souls go to reside. That way,” the youth waved to their left, “is the Mourning Fields where those who wasted their lives on unrequited love reside.”

“Hey, it wasn’t unrequited love,” Han barked defensively. 

The youth laughed. It sounded like bells. Like the ones they rang at the temples of the gods. “Good luck then,” he said. 

“Uh yeah. Thanks,” Han said. 

The youth nodded and saluted Han with two fingers. Then he turned and walked off into the trees. Han took a steadying breath and walked into the forest. It was quiet, but there was a soft sound almost like a rustling of leaves. Or whispers. 

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He could feel eyes on him. He turned his head this way and that, but all he saw were the trees. Though a few times he swore the knots in the tree bark looked like faces and their branches like arms. He tried to look down at his feet as much possible. 

The trees were neverending. His feet were tiring. He debated on resting, but decided that it would be for the best to keep pushing on. Eventually the trees thinned, and he found himself at the edge of another river. On the other shore stretched a grassy plain that rolled gently with soft hills. Pale green and white grass swayed gently, but Han saw no one in them. Perhaps the dead were further in. 

He walked to the pebbled shore. He glanced for a crossing or a bridge or even a boat. Would a boat require payment? He stared at the waters. Unlike the Acheron, these waters were smooth. Almost as smooth as glass. The water seemed to glow a light blue. Would it be safe to swim in? Han walked up to the water’s edge. He could feel the chill of the water on his toes. 

“That is the Lethe,” came a feminine voice. 

Han was startled, but didn’t jump. He turned to see a young woman standing nearby. At once, she reminded him of the youth he met before. She was dressed similarly in a short white chiton tunic. Her hair was twisted back into buns on either side of her head. Her eyes and hair were warm brown. 

And she glowed. Warm and golden. Her chest rose and fell. She was alive. 

“Luke was right,” she said as she walked over to Han. Her voice was silky and smooth. He closed his eyes for a second to enjoy it. “There is a mortal here. Is it true? Did you ride a drexl over the Acheron instead of paying Charon?” 

“Uh . . . Luke?” 

“My brother, whom you supposedly met.” 

“The blond haired kid?” 

She nodded. Her large doe eyes looked at him unblinking. 

“Then yeah, I met him.” 

“So, you’re looking for your lady love?” the girl asked. 

“Yes.”

“What’s her name?” 

“Qi’ra.” 

“Qi’ra. Qi’ra,” the girl said as she rolled the name around her tongue. She looked around in thought. “Hmmm. And you are?”

“I am Han. Han Solo.” 

“I am Leia,” she said. “And that is the Lethe River. It is the river of forgetfulness. Drink its waters and you shall forget everything you have ever known. The shades of the dead are required to drink its waters so they forget their earthly life.”

There was a sharp pain in Han’s heart. So even if he found Qi’ra, she wouldn’t remember him? 

“She may not be there yet,” Leia said picking up on his woe.

“How am I going to know? How am I going to find her?” 

“I could help,” Leia said with a smile. 

“You would?” 

“Not for free of course. First rule of Hades, nothing here is without a price.”

Han’s hand went down to his pouch which held his coins. “I can’t part with these. I need them to go back.” 

“Oh I don’t want coins,” Leia said. “Now let me think.” 

She kicked a pebble. It bounced into the river. It didn’t make a sound nor splash. It was simply gone into the waters. Only a small ripple to mark its passage. 

“Leia! Leia!” a voice in the trees called. A voice like bells. A voice like laughter. 

Leia sighed and rolled her eyes. The young man from earlier ran out from the trees. He trotted over to them. 

“Leia,” the youth said. Hadn’t Leia called him Luke? “It’s almost time for the feast. We must go prepare. You know how father is.” 

Leia’s face lit up and she turned to Han. “That’s it! You want to find your dear Qi’ra? Very well. Attend the feast and dance with me.”

“What?” Han said. 

She smiled. “I will see you there!” she said with a laugh that reminded him like summer rain and ran into the trees. 

“Wait? What feast? Where is it?” Han called after her. He turned to her brother. The youth only laughed. He walked up to Han and patted him on the shoulder. 

“Come now,” he said. “Can’t go to Lord Vader’s feast dressed like this.” 

“Wait? Lord Vader?” Han exclaimed. 

Luke grabbed Han’s arm and pulled him back into the trees. They passed through the trees in a matter of steps, though Han had traveled through them for a great length. They entered a tunnel and wove their way through various passage ways. Eventually, the passages started to lighten with a red light. They exited the tunnel into a much larger tunnel. Raging down the center was a river of molten lava. 

“The Phlegethon,” Luke said casually with a wave of his hand. “The river of fire. If you follow it upstream to its depths, you shall reach the pits of Tartarus.” 

A thick knot formed in Han’s throat as he thought of the prison for sinners. Luke was moving on and Han quickly followed him. A narrow stone bridge crossed the raging river. Luke walked across it without care, but Han was much more careful. He could feel the heat. Sweat dripped down his face and back. He tried to focus on the bridge. On his steps and not on the water that looked like flames. 

Upon reaching the other side, Han sighed in relief. He wiped his face with his arm. The further away from the river he got, the colder it seemed to get. Had it always been this cold? He also noticed a change in the rocks. They seemed much more smooth. Carved. In fact he started to see carved columns and decorative motifs. 

Soon, they were no longer walking through a tunnel, but a hallway with towering ribbed stone columns on either side. The hall extended into a large room. Rows and rows of columns stretched into the dark, except for a hint of  distance glitter. The first piece of the glitter they came across was a gold coin. Then Han noticed a second and a third. Then a pile. 

As they moved on, the gold coin piles grew and grew. Soon the whole floor beside the path they walked on was nothing but gold. Then it became more than just coins. Statues. Jewelry. Gems. Slabs of swirling marble. There was a large red crystal that towered taller than Han. The place was piled with treasure. Even in the distance, between the columns, the treasure grew and grew into rolling hills. 

“What is this?” Han whispered. 

“The Treasury of Hades,” Luke said. His voice light. Unnerved. 

“I thought . . . I mean I’ve heard tales but . . .” 

“Didn’t think it existed?” Luke said with a laugh. 

Lord Vader was the god the underworld, and as such the god of the riches it held. Han himself had kneeled and banged his head and hands against the floor in hopes Lord Vader would hear his prayers and grant him riches. Luke stopped by a pile and dug through the treasure. He picked up a necklace and then casually tossed it aside. 

“What are you doing?” Han hissed quietly. 

“You can’t go to Lord Vader’s feast dressed like that,” Luke said. 

“I can’t go wearing stolen treasure.”

“It’s not stolen,” Luke said. “We’re merely borrowing it. Just be sure to return it before the keepers do their count.” 

Luke said it so nonchalantly. Without a care.

“The keepers?” Han asked. 

Luke pointed up and Han followed the finger up to the ceiling. It was dark and Han couldn’t make out anything. But he kept looking and he was sure there was something . . . moving . . . up there. Something slithering. Something with scales that glittered just like the treasure. 

“I think this will do,” Luke said as he held an armful of treasure. “Still more work to do. Let’s go.”

Luke led Han back out of the treasury, over the raging fiery river, and back into the tunnels. As they continued through the underground maze, Han realized he had no idea how to find his way back. How would he return the treasure? Find Qi’ra? Even find his way back to the Acheron? 

Noise started to echo in the tunnels. Loud squealing and grunting. It wasn’t long before Han started to smell a foul stench. He plugged his nose, but Luke carried on in his normal carefree way. The stench and the sounds grew worse. They exited a tunnel onto a raise pathway. Below them stretched animal pens. Inside were hundreds of squealing pig-like animals. They were huge and hairy with four tusks. They all rolled around in white stinky mud. 

Luke walked down the path until they came to an empty pen. He placed the treasure on the ground. 

“Come here,” he said. Han walked over and wondered what was next. He wasn’t expecting Luke to grab his arm and throw him into the white stinky mud. He was surprised at how easily Luke had done it. By the gods, the kid was strong! 

At once, Han was flailing in the sticky mud. He was soon covered in the stinky mess. 

“What? What was that for?” he shouted. 

“You smell,” Luke said with a smile. 

“I do now!” 

“No. You smell like a mortal. Like someone living. I don’t think you realize my sister’s request. She’s asking you to go to the feast of Lord Vader, the ruler of Hades. All sorts of beings will be attending as guests. None of them mortal. You have to go into the feast and dance with my sister without being found out your a living mortal.” 

Han stilled. He sank into the mud some more. “What happens if they do find out?” 

“It’s best not to dwell on that. Come on, get out.” 

It took a few moments of struggling, but eventually Han pulled himself out of the mud. Luke collected the treasure, and the two returned back to the tunnels. This time Luke only led him a short distance to a wooden door. They opened it to find a rather normal looking room. A small fire was in a fireplace. A wooden bed was shoved into one corner. A small table with two chairs in another. Clay cups and bowls sat on it. 

Luke dropped the treasure on a table and at once started to dig in a trunk in the corner. He pulled out a large black fur coat. He draped it over Han’s shoulders. Then he returned to the trunk and pulled out a large skull. It looked like it belonged to the pigs. It was thin with four tusks. He placed it on Han’s head as if it were a helm. 

Then he took the jewelry and started to place it on Han. There was a large gold necklace with several chains. A huge red ruby hung from the center. There were a few bangle bracelets and two large rings. Luke laced a few thin strands of gold along the tusks. Then he picked up a piece of coal that had fallen out of the fire. He used it to mark all over Han’s face. 

“I guess that will do,” Luke said as he tossed the coal back into the fire. 

Luke opened the door and Han followed. They exited the room into a street . . . Han looked around. They were on a road. A paved road with stone buildings. Not a tunnel with squealing and stinky pigs nearby. The road led up a large sharp hill. Houses and buildings were everywhere. Yellow and blue fire lit up windows and large braziers lit up the streets.

It was a city. A whole city underground. It wasn’t a simple village. It was possible it was bigger than Han’s citystate of Corellia. Han had to tilt his head back to see all the up the hill. At the top was a large building. No, a palace. 

“That’s the palace of Lord Vader,” Luke waved at it. “That is where the feast is taking place. Just follow the roads up.” 

“Wait what about-” Han said, but already Luke had ducked back through the door and shut it. 

[hadesrebelofadaughter]

My Friends.

@dontunderestimatemypoison

Jess had dragged the guys out to come and hang out at Amelia's parents' farm with her, Amelia, Kau and Deion for the night. It was beautiful at night and she mostly wanted to try to steal some strawberries from the fields before they left. There were more than enough seats for all of them in the living room, Jess was sharing a seat with F.A.N.G as she always did. The conversation was jovial and lighthearted with it pausing every so often when Amelia asked for help refilling drinks which Jess got up and helped with.

Everyone was pulled outside to watch the sunset with Kau taking pictures and Jess giving the guys a 'told you' grin before it got chilly and everyone headed back in. The fire in the fireplace was lit and the conversation started back up again, a few pillows were thrown around with loud over-dramatic yells of 'HOW DARE YOU' and 'I TRUSTED YOU' with only laughter in return and a few playful 'Be nice' scolds that had both guilty parties laughing. Eventually, Amelia asked for some help in the kitchen and Kau insisted she rest and took some of the offered help to cook dinner while Deion and Jess playfully bickered over music choices.

Both of them were gently swatted with pillows before Kau led the way to the kitchen and Deion ended up winning and he fiddled before finding a playlist while Jess grumbled that it was rigged before snuggling up to F.A.N.G. Only appeased when a few kisses were stolen and she laughed and poked her tongue out at Amelia who poked her tongue out back.

Conversation started up again and Jess ended up going strangely quiet halfway through one song before she shifted, put her drink on the table and quietly excused herself. Getting up and leaving out the backdoor, just needing some fresh air. Amelia shaking her head at F.A.N.G, telling him to give her a couple of minutes as Deion got up and skipped to the next song.

Jess outside leaned against one of the pillars of the house, tucking her hands into her pockets as the song still played in her head. Tears springing to her eyes, she just needed some fresh air. She'd be fine. . .she'd be fine.

And I can’t forget it All of the love All of the love As we stood tall together All of the love

She snuffled and let out a quiet shaky laugh, more tears falling down her face as her hands came out of her pockets. She wiped at her eyes before wrapping her arms around herself.

And oh my friends I am heavy Can I beat within your heart? Can I bleed within your love? Oh my friends

And oh my friends I am ready Can I beat within your heart? Can I bleed within your love? Oh my friends

It was silent sobbing, her shoulders shook, tears fell but there was no audible sobs. She missed Kara, she missed her Uncle Peter, she missed Ennis, she missed everyone that she'd ever known that had gone missing or had died. She missed all of them and it was like a physical ache in her chest, she snuffled again, wiping at her cheek, her nose, her eyes. Her eyes gazing out into the fields in front of her. Mindlessly staring until she blinked and she saw two people walking out of a very familiar looking gate.

It was stark black but glowed with a purple glow, looking past the people and into the gate itself she saw the fields of Asphodel and in the distance ever so faintly, she could see her dad's home. Admittedly it was hard to miss.

She turned her attention to the two people, even with her blurry eyes, the dark pink dyed hair was hard to miss and she choked out a sob, a fresh round of tears rushing to her eyes.

“Hey Jess” The pink-haired figure said and Jess darted forward, Kara meeting her in the middle as the two threw their arms around each other. Jess sobbing into Kara's shoulder. Nothing but apologies fell out of Jess's mouth and Kara just cooed, rubbing her back while she whispered nothing but reassurance and forgiveness back. Her arms tightening around her cousin as she continued to sob into her. “Shh shh Jess it's alright, it wasn't your fault, you couldn't have known. I didn't blame you and I'm sure the others didn't either. Shh, Shh it's alright”

“Bu-But, I still-”

Kara shushed her, cutting her off and she pulled away slightly, wiping Jess's cheeks as she gave her a firm look

“It. Wasn't. Your. Fault” She repeated, wiping at her eyes “It was just bad timing, I should have shouted for help. It's my fault if anything, it's not yours. Never will be yours, it's okay. Even if it was Jess, I forgive you. I don't want to see you upset anymore”

“I'm sorry” Jess whimpered out and there was a quiet coo from Kara before Jess was pulled back into a tight hug, the two falling quiet for a moment as they just hugged. Kara was the one to pull away first and she gave her cousin a smile before looking over her shoulder and gestured for the other figure to come forward. Jess recognised him right away when she looked at him. “Peter?”

“Hey Little J” Peter said, giving her a warm smile and he just held his arms out, letting her run into them. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, kissing the top of his niece's head as she started to cry again. It had been years since she'd seen him, gods she missed him so much “Hey kiddo, shh. It's alright, It's alright. I'm here, we're here. It's alright”

“I'm so sorry, I missed you so much” She said and he just smiled, looking a little teary-eyed himself

“You have nothing to be sorry for and I missed you too” He said before pulling away, looking her over before he gave her a proud smile. Wiping some tears from her eyes “Look at you, all grown up. Getting married with a house of your own with some certain dogs I hear no less! I'm so proud of you”

That just made her cry harder and he cooed and hugged her tightly again, rubbing her back as he mumbled quiet reassurances to her. Letting her cry herself out before letting her pull away to wipe at her eyes

“Better?” He asked and she let out a weak laugh, smiling as she nodded.

“Better” She said, Kara popping up next to them and she ruffled Jess's hair causing her to let out another, stronger laugh as she batted her hand away. “You bitch”

“You love me” Kara said with a giggle

“I do, I miss you too” Jess said and Kara wrapped an arm around her shoulders

“And I miss you” Kara replied, giving her shoulder a squeeze “I've told dad everything, how well you're taking care of the dogs, about Gypsie, how you're doing uni stuff.”

“I'm real proud of you” Peter told Jess and she snuffled

“You guys are gonna make me cry again” She said and Kara and Peter just laughed. “I really miss you both”

“And we miss you but we're both so proud of you honey” Peter said, gently tapping Jess's nose which caused her to smile “There's my girl. We gotta go but I'm sure if you ask your dad, you can come and see us okay?”

“Okay” Jess said nodding before she bit her lip, the urge to cry already bubbling up again “I love you both”

“We love you too cuz” Kara said, tears filling her eyes now too and there was a big group hug before Peter and Kara pulled away and gave Jess a smile. Turning around, they walked back to the gate and as soon as they stepped through it vanished. Leaving Jess both happy and sad at the same time and she let out a slow breath before she headed back to the house.

She opened the back door a little bit after trying to calm herself down enough that she wouldn't sound like she'd been crying. With how much she’d been crying, she probably failed horribly.

“F.A.N.G darling? Can you come out here please?” She called before shutting the door and going and sitting on the swing seat that was on the back porch. She needed a hug.

[oracledapollon]

An amazing post I found about the Hellenic afterlife. Very well written and very informative. I’m including the original link if you’d rather read it there.

The Hellenic Underworld and afterlife

"Death came suddenly and it was mercilessly painful. You are aware you have passed: you can hear the keening of the women in your family, taste the metal of the oboloi in your mouth. You are no longer cold, or hot, and there is no pain. Sensation is for the living, and your memories start to fade already. You are no longer part of the living. You are dead, and your guide is waiting for you.

Hermes Psychopompos, the winged guide of the newly dead, descends and takes your hand. Below you is the ocean: Oceanos' divine body. You used to watch it glisten in Helios' bright rays, but today, everything is dull and lifeless. You are speeding west, guided by the blessed Immortal. Below you, you can see land again and a mighty river. The land draws you down, and you stand on the ground without feeling it. It is here that Hermes Psychopompos leaves you, in the capable hands of Kharon, on the bank of the river Acheron.

The ferryman looks old and ageless at the same time. He holds out his hand, but you can't understand what he wants from you. Then, his hand closes around a coin, and he steps aside to let you into his boat. Without moving, you are suddenly on the boat, looking to the shore where shadowy figures of the dead gather, longing to make the journey with you. But they have no coin to hand over, and are forced to wander the bank of the Kokytos river year after year, until the ferryman takes pity on them. Today is not their day.

The river fades into the darkness of a cave. The river of woe joins with the river of hate; the river Styx that seems to have no end. Kharon moves the boat forward in a steady rhythm. You reach the dock sooner than you expected to. Kharon waits silently for you to get off of his boat. You dare not move. Beyond is a field of grey, a sunless cavern filled with the shadows of the dead. The fields of Asphodel; the dreary resting place of the common Hellen. Before the fields stand a huge gate, and an equally huge dog, with three growling heads, foaming at each mouth. Kharon waits, and then you are in the field. The gate stands behind you, Kerberos a constant reminder you can never go back.

You wander, still remembering much of your life. The fall you took as a child that gave you a weak knee, the smile of your spouse on your wedding day. You remember your child being born. It makes being here impossible to bear. The memories will not fade, because before your judgement, you are not allowed to forget. You hold on to them as long as you can, but then you walk through the field, to the compound in the distance. Hades' compound, where the Dread Lord and His beautiful wife live. You walk to forget. Thus, you come upon the judges.

Rhadamanthys, Minos and Aiakos wait for you at the trivium in the courtyard of the compound; the trivium, Hekate's sacred crossroads. If you still had a heart, you would feel it beating in your throat now. But you do not. Any decision the judges make is alright. The memories hurt. You are cut off from your loved ones, from Helios' powerful rays. Tartaros is not your place, you know that much. You have honored the Theoi, you have done right by your family. You do not fear judgement. You wish to go back to the Asphodel meadows and drink from the river Lethe; you wish to forget. More, you wish to reach Elysium, the island of the blessed. In the distance, the Lord of the Dead and his Queen Persephone must be.

Your life is judged, you are judged. You wait, and look to each side. Left for Tartaros, where the river Phlegethon burns, but leaves everything it touches intact. Right for Elysium, where the ghosts of the blessed reside amongst the blameless heroes. Or back the way you came for the meadows where Lethe flows free, where the dead flutter around like bats, and those initiated into the Mysteries drink from Mnemosyne, so they will not forget their previous life when they reincarnate. You wait, and are judged."

For the ancient Hellens, this is what dying would look like. This is how I see my 'life' after death. When I pass, I will walk to my judgement. Sadly, life after death may be the closes I will ever get to the ancient Hellens, and the Theoi, so because of that, I have a great bit of interest in the Hellenic Underworld. So lets look at the short story I wrote--I won't call it a meditation, because traveling to the Underworld is something one should not attempt in any way, shape or form--to learn a bit more about the last resting place of the ancient Hellens and modern Hellenists.

The Underworld is described as lying in the west in the Odysseia, and there is an entrance that can be reached overseas. Yet, the dead enter the Underworld through one of five rivers surrounding the Underworld.

Acheron (Αχέρων) - The river of woe. This is the river that Kharon ferries the dead across, from the land of the living, to the realm of Hades.

Kocytus (Κωκυτός) - The river of lamentation. Those who could not pay Kharon, were destined to walk the banks of this river--a side river to the river Acheron--for one hundred years.

Phlegethon (Φλεγέθων) - The river of fire in the Underworld. It's a side river of the river Styx and is said to be permanently on fire, yet never burn anything it touches. It's located in Tartaros.

Lethe (Λήθη) - The river of forgetfulness. It runs through the Asphodel meadows, and the dead have to drink from it to completely forget about their lives on Earth. Those who were initiated in the Eleusinian Mysteries--linked to Demeter and Persephone--were allowed to drink from Mnemosyne and are allowed to remember.

Styx (Στύξ) - The river of hate. The Acheron joins with the Styx at the moment the land of the living makes way for the Underword, and as such, She is a portal, and the most famous of the five rivers. It is said to wrap around the Underworld nine times. Styx was also the river upon which the Theoi, and mankind, swore oaths which could not be broken, an arrangement agreed upon by Zeus and the Goddes Styx in return for her aid in the Titan Wars. If a Theos or Theia did break an oath made upon the river Styx, they were forced by Zeus to drink from the river, upon which They fell into a deep coma for a year, and were then cut off from Their worshippers for nine more. For mortals, breaking an oath on the river Styx was something you simply did not do, and it's the gravest vow to make, one that is not made lightly.

The Underworld has various areas where the dead are housed, but also where the various Gods and Goddesses of the Underworld--called 'Theoi Khthonioi'--reside. Several of the Gods and Goddesses have already been discussed; all the rivers are Gods or Goddesses who have their home in the Underworld, and there are Kharon, Kerberos, and the judges: Rhadamanthys, Minos and Aiakos. Yet, there are a lot more. The most well known are Hades and His consort, Persephone.

Hades, brother of Zeus, son of Kronos, is the Lord of the Dead. The Underworld is His domain. He rules it with his beautiful wife--and niece--Persephone, whom He stole away. She resides with Him in their home, a large mansion at the crossroads between the Asphodel meadows, Tartaros and Elysium. This crossroads is sacred to Hekate, and located in the courtyard of the mansion. The maiden Goddess Hekate is a companion of Persephone, whom she led out of the Underworld after Zeus decreed it to be so. She vowed to Demeter to stay with Persephone in the months She spent under the earth, and takes this vow very seriously.

Kronos is an Underworld deity as well: Zeus eventually released His father and made Him king of the Elysian Islands. Other Gods, like Hypnos, Erebos, Nyx, Makaria (daughter of Hades and Persephone, who watched over the blessed dead, who had been initiated into the Mysteries), and the Erinyes (three Goddesses of vengeance and retribution) also make their home in (a part of) the Underworld. The Moirai, the three Goddesses of fate, have their own space in the Underworld as well. Other Immortals who share the Underworld are deamons and nymphs.

In the daímōn-section, we have the the Arai (daímōnes of curses), Askalaphos (who tended to the orchards of Hades and was transformed into a screech owl by Demeter for bringing Her bad news about Her daughter), Kakodaimones (Deamones which cause all kinds of harm), Empousa (a daímōn with flaming hair, the leg of a goat and a leg of bronze, who parents vowed would come after their children if they didn't behave), the Oneiri (dream spirits) and Epiales (the daímōn of nightmares). Other daímōnes include: Eurynomos (who stripped the flesh off of the corpses of the dead), the Lamiai and Mormolykeia (vampiric, succubus-like, daímōnes in the following of Hekate), Melinoe (who led the souls of the dead back to earth to haunt the living). Menoites, furthermore, herds the black-skinned cattle of Hades, and Thanatos, the winged daímōn of death, is Hades' minister.

There are also a few Underworld nymphs: Daeira (a companion of Persephone), the Lampades (torch bearing nymphs in Hekate's following who may have looked over the blessed dead on their way to Elysium), Leuke (a nymph abducted by Hades and transformed into a white poplar which stands in the Elysian fields), Mynthe (a beowed nymph of Hades, who Persephone turned to dust and Hades turned into the mint plant), and Orphne (wife of Acheron).

As for the dead, they had three places to go in the Underworld: Tartaros, where those who were punished for all eternity remained, the Asphodel meadows, where everyone who had lived a good life wandered about endlessly, and the Elysian fields, where the children of Gods, the blessed dead and those who had lead extraordinarily honorable, brave or otherwise well-respected lives resided.

The ancient Hellens believed the Underworld was a neutral place. One did not desire to go there in the least, but it was part of life, and as far as the afterlife went, it was dull and sunless but nothing like the hell of Christianity. The worst part about it is being without the touch of loved ones, and forgetting who you were. In the Odysseia, Odysseus meets his mother's spirit at one of the entrance points to the Underworld. She tells him:

"Oh, my child, most unfortunate of men, Persephone, Zeus’ daughter, does not deceive you: this is the way it is with mortals after death. The sinews no longer bind flesh and bone, the fierce heat of the blazing pyre consumes them, and the spirit flees from our white bones, a ghost that flutters and goes like a dream."

Nobody wants to think about dying and the dead for too long, so I will end this post here. May it have given you some insight into the workings of the Underworld.