#like don't even get me started about persephone

[cyanide-sippy-cup]

Something has been on my mind since I got into GoW back in 2018 and I'm just now remembering that I'm technically an internet personality so now you all have to deal with it.

It totally could've been Heracles in Kratos' spot.

Mortal who learns he is the son of Zeus and is imbued with great power who, at the hands of a cruel God, is tricked into murdering his own wife and child(ren).

Hell, Herc's got a fucking brother too.

And Kratos has to do a bunch of stuff to make up for his sins...

And collects useful armor and weapons from his opponents...

Was-

Was Kratos originally supposed to be Heracles?!

[sincerely-sofie]

Many thanks for the tag @asimplearchivist! The post was getting a bit long, so I cleared the reblogs.

coffee or tea (hot chocolate for me!) | early bird or night owl | chocolate or vanilla | spring or fall | silver or gold (brass) | pop or alternative (I just like what I like, haha!) | freckles or dimples | snakes or sharks | mountains or fields | thunder or lightning | egyptian mythology or greek mythology | ivory or scarlet | flute or lyre | opal or diamond | butterflies or honeybees I macarons or eclairs l typewritten or handwritten | secret garden or secret library | rooftop or balcony (I'm scared of heights lol) | spicy or mild | opera or ballet | london or paris (Homebody) | vincent van gogh or claude monet | denim or leather | potions or spells | ocean or desert | mermaids or sirens I masquerade ball or cocktail party

some tags of my own: @oblonger, @aria-the-derg, @battyaalllday, @onlyhereforghosttrick, @billycorn, and @stingraywipe along with all you shy guys who would love to join in!

Thanks for the tag @steven-grants-world (we won't go into how giddy I get when I'm tagged in something!)

This or that…

coffee or tea (neither!) | early bird or night owl | chocolate or vanilla | spring or fall | silver or gold | pop or alternative | freckles or dimples | snakes or sharks | mountains or fields | thunder or lightning | egyptian mythology or greek mythology | ivory or scarlet | flute or lyre | opal or diamond | butterflies or honeybees I macarons or eclairs l typewritten or handwritten | secret garden or secret library | rooftop or balcony | spicy or mild | opera or ballet | london or paris | vincent van gogh or claude monet | denim or leather | potions or spells | ocean or desert | mermaids or sirens I masquerade ball or cocktail party

no pressure tags: @marieziffer, @jewelsrulz, @diplomaticprincess, @wrenwithapen, @witch-oftheflowers, @lunar-ghoulie, @coneygoil, and anyone else who wants to because I hate forgetting people! Do it!

[msmysticfail]

How to manifest (Law of Attraction) for 8th house and Scorpio placements:

The 8th house, like Scorpio, is ruled by Pluto, the great God of the underworld, of the bowels of the Earth. It is the magnetic force of Pluto that acts on the Earth's core, which is why people with important placements in the 8th house and Scorpio are magnetic, they have that sublime magnetism that pulls people in, attracting them with that something that people generally don't know how to define it exactly.

Unlike the magnetism of the Sun, which is hot and radiates light and which everyone wants to be close to its heat, Pluto is quiet, cold, it’s extremely silent, it is that spirit that stands still in one of the corners of the room, without anyone noticing it. It's energy is not clearly perceived, felt, but it's so strong, so strong, that it doesn't need clear manifestations, "scandalous" situations to show itself. Its vibration is extremely low but he is extremely powerful. Pluto gets what he wants because his strength is vibrating so strongly within itself that it becomes a pole of magnetism for the things around him. Pluto governs irresistible attractions, governs the depths of the earth (the richest and purest gold), governs the most lethal bombs, governs the most dangerous places, Pluto governs the strength to walk through “Hell”.

Okay, so how to manifest using Pluto?

1- Look inside yourself and see what/how your thoughts are.

Have you ever stopped to think about where/what your thoughts are most of the time? You may be dwelling on what someone did to you, your mind may be fixated on the bad things that happened to you in the past, you may be furious with your insufferable boss or your ex's new girlfriend. You're going to have to start paying attention from now on - while you're manifesting - where your thoughts are in the moment.

2- Change your thoughts from what bothers you to what you want.

You know what you want, 8th house and Scorpio individuals always have something they really want and they know what it is. So, from the moment you start manifesting you will have to redirect your thoughts from the things that bother you to the things that please you, the things that you really want. This process is not easy, you may need to heal some wounds from the past first, so that you can finally have a strong and clear mind to act on your desires.

3 – Write what you want and don’t show it to anyone

Write down what you really want to manifest, you can use any type of manifestation method (scripting), write with all your heart what you want to manifest, be it a boyfriend, be it a position at work, be it the fame you want to gain, connect with the desire and let your words flow. Keep the notebook/sheet in secret (Pluto), and let its manifestation be something intimate between you (8th house or Scorpio placement) and Pluto (force of the Universe).

4 - Activate your personal power

You are angry that things are not going the way you want, you feel ugly, you feel disconnected from yourself, you feel bad inside yourself. Look, this is the hardest part. You will have to change your entire emotional universe to work deeply with your emotions, remember, the 8th house is the house of deep emotions, just like the 12th house, you will have to dive completely within yourself, to discover what hurts you (8th house), what you are afraid of losing (8th house), what gives you pleasure (8th house) even if it is prohibited. You will enter one of the most sensitive areas of yourself. There's no getting away with Pluto, however. If you want your gold, you'll have to walk through hell first. Remember, however, that Persephone had the help of Hecate, Dante had the help of Virgil, so you can also ask for help, whether from a psychologist, through witchcraft, meditation, or through physical or emotional self-care.

5 – Keep working on your personal power

After you understand your inner universe, now it's time to activate the power of Pluto. “What I want also wants me”, “What is mine is coming to me”, “I love myself, I accept my intensity, I accept my power. My power doesn’t scare me”, “I’m not going to give that power to him/her, I have the power to move forward, I have the power to change this situation”. These are some of the phrases that you will repeat to yourself, at any time of the day, while you are manifesting, you can create others, just remember that they should remind you of your personal power, that they should affirm your power, be creative and repeat firmly because Pluto will listen to you.

6-End: Don't be afraid of the journey

Pluto rules you, baby! Don't be afraid of the shadows, let them work for you, not against you, the dark cannot scare you, you are a creature of the depths, a child of the realms of the darkness. Good luck!

[blue-devil-of-the-lord]

Hey there~ If you are still taking requests for Kurt Wagner imagines/scenarios, can I suggest one with a mutant who has plant powers? Plant manipulation is my go to power. Nothing specific, I just really want more Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler content 😊

Mother Nature

Kurt Wagner x reader Words: 1,6K A/N: Alright, first of my requests is done! I made some kind of mix between headcanons and oneshot because it just fit well in my opinion. Also, the gender wasn't stated so I tried to keep it neutral. Hope you like it :)

Let's start with some basics, shall we? In my opinion, Kurt would adore a partner with plant manipulation powers.

Yes, flying and teleporting are all well and good, but plant manipulation? He's absolutely fascinated and will watch you every time you use your powers. And don't you dare stop him watching...

You are, even if it's not immediately obvious, an incredibly powerful mutant. Control over plants means control over almost everything, trees, flowers, grass, even the earth if you try hard enough (through roots, of course). Kurt is a gentleman, of course, and it doesn't always sit right with him if you want to do certain things on your own that he could help with, but oh boy... If he doesn't get weak in the knees when you go into full mutant mode.

The first time he met you was in the old garden shed, which was pretty run-down. He hadn't really wanted to end up there himself, but in retrospect he is very grateful that he did. The professor had never really had time to look after the garden house, which is why you took on the task. And let me put it this way: the first time he saw your powers? The man was smitten from day one.

Plant nicknames. You won't escape them. Neither in German nor in English. “My flower”, “My lucky clover”, “My rose” but also references, especially to mythological creatures “Little garden fairy”, “Persephone”, .... The full program.

When he gives you plants - which he loves to do - he makes sure that they are planted so that you can enjoy them for a very long time. Kurt brings you plants from different cultures and countries, keen to give you as much diversity as possible. However, if he is forced to give you a bouquet of flowers, that's no problem either. You may prefer living plants, but hey - what can you manipulate plants for if you can't bring them back to life?

One disadvantage of your power is that you don't feel very comfortable in an environment without plants. It's fine in the institute, as it's mostly made of wood (dead, but still plant-based), but Kurt makes sure that there are always at least four living plants in your classroom as well as in his room.

Also loves listening to you. You teach a kind of mixture of theoretical biology and practical manual work in the gardens and there's almost nothing better for him than listening to you talk passionately about the plants. Or kneeling down in the garden bed, your eyes gleaming in the sunlight...

Should you move in together later? Be prepared for this man to go all out and fulfill your every request. Nothing is too good for you. Big garden? No problem. Plants all over the house? Already done. House in the country, surrounded by nothing but nature? Your wish is his command.

You have also quickly become his favorite training partner. And that's not just because Kurt can't keep his eyes and hands (and tail) off his partner. For one thing, it helps him to avoid moving objects, because he has learned the hard way how painful it can be to get an ivy tendril in the face. On the other hand, the two of you are simply perfectly attuned to each other. Kurt teleports a little too far to the left? Don't worry, the branch likes to stretch out a bit to catch him. The vine was a bit too short and not quite enough to catch you? Kurt is there to pick you up with ease. In other words, you don't want to compete against the two of you.

Kurt loves it when you make him flower necklaces or flower crowns. They last forever thanks to your power and as soon as you put them on his head? Don't expect him to take them off any time soon. He wears them with pride.

Kurt has always liked nature as he has traveled a lot in his life, but since he's been with you? He's become a huge fan of garden or nature dates. Whether it's a picnic outdoors, a walk in the woods or an afternoon in the greenhouse, he'll take it all. And if you do some magic with your power? He's in paradise.

Speaking of the greenhouse? Although it was initially your project, over time, especially after the relationship began, it has become your and Kurt's project. He doesn't know much about gardening, but he's willing to learn as long as that means continuing to listen and watch you.

Kurt materialized in the middle of the greenhouse and immediately the scent of the different types of flowers, of which he did not know the names, wafted towards him, but he knew that they made you happy and that was all that mattered to him. His eyes wandered around the open room, looking for you, and he realized again how much you had already done.

Yes, he had helped too, but it was you who had done the main work.  Kurt still remembered the dead beds, the dried up earth and the broken sidewalks.

The glass panes were dirty and partly broken and the rain had caused mold to grow on some things. None of the garden utensils, the few that were at least there, were usable and pretty much everyone would have labeled this greenhouse a lost cause.

Not you.

You set to work yourself and improved everything yourself without using much of your powers. Kurt had caught you at the beginning of your project, so he was able to assess the improvement pretty well. You had cleaned and partially replaced the glass of the greenhouse - the latter admittedly with his help, as it was easier for him to reach the panes above - knocked out the path and replaced it with a loose, albeit well-kept, gravel path. The old borders of the beds were torn out and replaced with a large partition to the gravel path, allowing the plants greater freedom to grow.

One day you had grabbed Logan and Scott, Kurt had come along voluntarily, and had taken them to a gardening store to buy the necessary equipment and seeds. Logan and Scott had both grumbled while carrying them, Logan a little more than Scott, but your results were impressive.

Dozens, if not hundreds, of different plant species were growing neatly in every direction and it no longer resembled a greenhouse, but a rainforest that rivaled even the true jungle in diversity. Kurt smiled slightly and ran the tip of his tail over the soft petals of a red hibiscus flower.

You had made it possible for many plants to grow here, even if the conditions were not ideal, but they thrived under your guidance.

However, just as he was about to bend down to smell a new, previously unknown flower, a frustrated groan sounded, which seemed all too familiar. Kurt could already guess where you would be. He disappeared into a dark cloud and emerged not two meters behind you.

For a few moments he gazed at you lovingly as you knelt in front of the lily patch, but he quickly stepped towards you when he realized you were about to snap with anger (last time it had taken a week and a lot of affection from Kurt to remove the rampant thorny vines from the school grounds).

„Liebling," he knelt down next to you and tilted his head. "What's the problem?" You glared angrily at the beds in front of you and began to poke around in them with the shovel. "Snails. Snails are the problem. What's the point of being able to manipulate and grow plants if those blasted bastards eat all my lilies?"

Despite your frustration, Kurt had to smile. "You still haven't given up the fight."

"No," you replied, throwing another slug into the bucket next to you with a disgusted look on your face. "That's my greenhouse. Let them find their own."

Kurt couldn't help but find your behavior endearing and pulled you closer to him, even though you tried to fight it. You might be better with plants, but he was the stronger of the two of you, whether you liked it or not. "My love," he murmured in your ear and you gave up your fight, just snuggled up against him, pouting.

"You can't possibly remove all the slugs, the greenhouse is too big for that. Besides, it's late. Let's go back to the institute. I'll make us some hot chocolate, we'll snuggle up on the sofa and watch that movie you've been wanting to show me for weeks."

You hesitated but his tail wrapped around your middle and the tip slowly traveled up and down your side and Kurt knew he had won.

You groaned in defeat and grabbed the bucket, which you promptly emptied out of one of the windows and closed it. You cast one last angry look at the beds. "You may have won the battle, but I will be the victor of the war."

Kurt laughed softly, wrapping you in his arms again as his tail wrapped boldly around your waist. "You will." With a sweeping motion, he picked you up bridal style and pressed you tightly against him, making you squeal and then laugh. He pressed a soft kiss against your temple.

"Tonight, though, you're mine." You disappeared in a cloud of black and blue mist and let it be said, you didn't think about the creatures that had declared war on you for the rest of the evening.

[oneforthemunny]

build me up, buttercup |dad!rockstar!eddie munson x mom!nepo baby!reader|

prompt: you and eddie are planning a baby shower to welcome in your first baby, persephone. or how the girl's flower themes are born.

a teeny tiny blurb that i'm excited to share. follows the lore than each of the girls have their own flowers, and this is how persephone's came to be <3 hope you enjoy!

contains: pure fluff. honestly just cutesy shit. language. pregnant!reader.

"I just want something bright." You hum, swaying gently to soothe your sore, aching joints. Your ring dazzled in the bright light pouring in from the open windows, smoothing over the swell of your stomach.

"Is there a specific color, Mrs. Munson?" The timid event planner asked, spreading out swatches of bright yellows, powdery blues, pastel pinks. "If we start with a color, maybe that would help narrow down the options?"

"I don't know." You frowned, a swell of frustrated tears bubbling to life in your chest. You didn't know, and you hated that you didn't know. It was your baby shower, you wanted it to be perfect.

Eddie's spine straightened, eyes cutting to you carefully. He sensed the tears, the irritation of feeling overwhelmed and frustrated, all threatening to come out the only way they knew how to. He'd been on the receiving end of too many of those fits. His hand found your thigh, squeezing it gently, thumb rubbing soft circles over your soft flesh, a desperate attempt to soothe.

"You're wanting flowers, right? That's the main theme." Your assistant, Natasha, a complete saint in disguise. With pregnancy brain and hormones, you were sure you'd never make it without her. "Do you have options for a floral theme?"

"Yes," The planner squeaked, thumbing through her briefcase of photos, swatches, notes.

Eddie felt you tense, your hand rubbing over your stomach in slow circles, huffing in defeat. "Hey, could you give us a second, Nat?" Eddie hummed. "Just give us one sec to look and kinda talk."

"Of course. Let's take a little break. I'll go get some tea." Natasha gave you both a small smile, padding to the kitchen the event planner following closely behind.

Your sigh, heavy and huffy, echoed off the walls. It made Eddie cringe gently, pulling the flower pictures closer to the two of you. "What about this one? Nice and pink for ya." Eddie held the small sample photo up to you, filled with sweet peas and hydrangeas, obnoxiously pink.

"Yeah," You muttered, lips still puffed in a pout. "I don't even know if I want pink anymore."

"Blue?" Eddie grinned lightly. "Trick everyone into thinking it's a boy incase there's a leak." He cringed when your breath hitched, eyes wide in horror.

"I'm kidding, baby." Eddie added quickly. "No one's gonna leak. We're keeping it intimate."

"Yeah, right." You sighed. "My mom and dad will bring all these people I barely even know."

"And I'll tell them to leave." Eddie's chest puffed, spine straightening. "I'm serious. They're not on the list, they can fuck off, alright? Goes for Victor and Tana too. Not gonna let them upset you."

The small smile you gave him felt like a standing ovation, a victorious win after a grueling, hard day. Filled his chest with warmth, hand squeezing yours lightly.

"If there's even a shower to kick them out of." Your smile fell just as quickly as it came, shoulders slumping with them. "Can't even pick a theme."

"We'll get it. C'mon," Eddie's calloused fingertips tickled your jaw, lifting your gaze to his. "Don't be like that, sweetheart."

"I can be like that if I want to." Your voice teetered on the edge of a whine, the hinting of a cry. "I can't even make a decision about a baby shower theme. How am I going to make a decision about a baby?"

"Stop that." Eddie shook his head, voice dropping to a soft coo. "Two totally different things, baby. Not even comparable." It was rational, firm but soothed your bundles of nerves. You both had your own worries, fears about parenthood- fear of the unknown that was creeping closer and closer.

"Here," Eddie stood, chains hanging from his jeans jingling with every heavy step towards the shelves on either side of the television, lined with books.

Eddie's fingers danced over the spines, until he found the book. Still new, no cracks in the spine or bent pages, a gift from Farrah when you told her the baby's name. "I saw it at this bookstore in Amsterdam. I had to get it." She'd squealed, giving you the book with a title that your baby shared- Persephone.

Eddie had been more elated than you, reading it front to back more than once. Reading it to you at night, eyes lighting when he'd read something interesting.

"I think I saw somethin' in here." Eddie sank back down beside you on the couch. "Just an idea."

You curled into him, knees tucked under you, head on the soft, worn material of his t-shirt. His cologne, a faint smoky smell of a cigarette- you could feel your body relaxing, intoxicatingly calm.

Calloused fingertips thumbed through the pages until he found the page he was looking for, lips parting in a soft, triumphant hum. "Look," Eddie tilted the page towards you, fingertip tracing the small etching of a flower. "Says there's some history behind this flower and Persephone."

You titled your head, eyes scanning over the text.

"In the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, Earth Goddess Gaia produced the yellow petaled Narcissus specifically to enchant Persephone. Now, this early blooming flower is seen as the harbinger of Spring, announcing Persephone's ascent to the surface."

"Interestingly, for all it's association with rebirth and new life with Spring, the bulb is highly toxic?" You frowned, head tilting up towards Eddie.

His lips curled in a wide, excited grin, eyes shining with gleaming pride. "That's fucking cool, isn't it?" Eddie beamed.

Heat blossomed in your chest, dissolving the feeling of frustration and fear, and blooming with something lighter. Soothing and happy, spreading through your chest all the way to your cheeks.

"That is pretty cool." You nodded, scanning the table for a yellow swatch. "We could do like a yellow and white kinda theme, right? That would be neutral in case it did get leaked."

Eddie gave a small eye roll. "It won't get leaked." He muttered, setting the book to the side. "But, yeah, neutral but still bright."

"Make the narcissus the main flower. Maybe add baby's breath and something else..." You muttered, pulling the swatches in front of you. Eddie's chest boasted, watching your small frown on your features, determined instead of frustrated now.

"Do they keep?" You turned to Eddie. "Like, they won't wilt or be gross, right?"

"Buttercups? Nah, they'll keep." Eddie shook his head gently. "Used to pick them for my mom all the time when I was little. She'd keep 'em in a vase and some water, and they'd stay forever."

Your heart swelled, a dull ache behind his words. Even now, married and expecting a baby, Eddie rarely spoke about his mother. Every small detail he'd share, you'd guard protectively in your thoughts, wanting to remember every detail you could.

"Ok," You nodded, a small sigh of relief. "Let's do that then."

You groaned, pushing off the back of the couch, Eddie's hands quickly finding your waist to help you stand. "Will you go get them? I have to pee, and I'll be right back."

Weeks later, Eddie was sure he'd never seen so many shades of yellow- so many flowers in his life. Your family's Malibu home transformed to a bright, floral baby shower of your dreams. Buttercups at every arrangement, starred prominently in bustles of baby's breath and tiny white daisies. All the guests even in various shades of yellow, shining brightly under the California sun.

Eddie managed to sneak a bouquet after the party, when you'd gone to lay down and the staff was cleaning up. He'd handed it to Natasha, sent it with her to get pressed and framed, until it found it's new home in the nursery.

[dilfdemolisher]

PERSEPHONE - CHAPTER THREE

“Persephone, queen of the underworld. Hades runs Hell, but she’s in charge of punishment.”

Series Summary: A serial killer who works with the police herself has a tumultuous past with Jack Crawford and his new profiler Will Graham. While trying to rebuild what she once broke Hannibal Lecter sticks himself in the middle of the few things she cares about - Comments and critiques are encouraged.

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, dead bodies, murder that is very female targeted, canon character death, smut, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 9.5k (yes you read that right…I'm sorry)

The sterile walls of the hallway close in around you as you make your way towards the autopsy room. "Agent," a familiar voice calls out behind you.

"I'm not your 'Agent' anymore, Jack," you say, wincing as you turn to face him. You were never officially an agent; Jack only started calling you that when you began sticking your nose into his cases.

"Force of habit," he deflects, his tone unusually soft for him. "I need to talk to you."

You glare at him, hoping he'll get straight to the point. The last thing you want is for Jack to drag you into his office, which always feels like a principal's office—the prelude to a lecture you’d rather avoid.

"I'd like you to resume therapy," he says finally.

Your heart sinks. "No."

"Bloom knows a therapist in Baltimore-"

You cut him off with a bitter laugh. "Are you serious? The last time I took her advice, I ended up tied to a chair and tortured. I'll pass."

"Dr. Lecter is one of the best in his field. She recommended him when I expressed my concerns." He tries to reason. 

Is he serious? "So, you discussed your concerns about me with her first instead of just asking me if I felt I needed help?"

"It's not about what you want. If you’re going to continue working on this case, you need a psychological evaluation."

Frustrated, you turn away and continue down the hallway. This is such bullshit. You don't need therapy. "I'll pass, Jack, but I appreciate your concern," you dismissively yell over your shoulder, not slowing your pace.

The moment you enter the room, everyone's eyes fall on your frame. The three in lab coats momentarily feeze while Will quickly makes eye contact before his gaze shifts to behind you and paces out of the room. 

“Were you honest when you said you two never dated—hell even slept together because this is awkward.” He says in an awful attempt to break the awkward silence.

“Any close relationship that didn’t leave on a positive note can cause tension, not just romantic ones, Price.” You state. 

Beverly clears her throat. “So Will thinks the killer is eating the girls. Elise's liver was removed and then put back in place; the killer did that after he realized she had liver cancer.”

“We also found metal shavings on her body,” Zeller chimes in. 

You sigh. “It’s plausible. It creates a very vivid image of this man. He…cares for these girls in his own twisted way. He’d view their consumption as an act of devotion, most likely a waste if he didn't. It’s a hunter's mentality; if there's anything left of these girls, it’s most likely fragments. Hair stuffed in pillows, bones made into various things—he wouldn't waste. If he is a hunter, he most likely has a dedicated space to this, a shed, probably doesn't live in the city.” You propose.

You’re met with silence for a moment before Beverly speaks once again. “I can’t believe you were never a profiler.” She shakes her head and smiles. 

"Well, I momentarily am of sorts now.” You raise your arms forward and wiggle your fingers.  “Maybe I understand him so well because I am him.” You say it in an unserious tone. 

She rolls her eyes playfully. "Hmm, yeah, I'm real scared.” You didn't even realize how much you missed Bev until now. 

"Well, is that all?” You ask. 

"Yup, that's it.” Brain tells you before grabbing something behind him. “I’ll be off then.” You smile and walk out the door.

2 YEARS EARLIER

Jack’s call came twenty minutes ago, his voice clipped and urgent. “Another one.” That was all he said, but it was enough. It wasn't just another body, not a one-off murder. He made it clear by his simple lack of words that this was connected. 

During the entirety of your drive, your heart couldn't stop beating. The dull vibration filling your ears and pounding your chest overwhelmed you so much that you felt relieved at the red stop lights, giving you a moment to collect your barring's. Jack pulled up at the same time, his grim expression mirroring your own.

As he approached, his words were drowned out by your internal rhythm. But when Jack opened the door into the room, your body finally went quiet, and you finally feel like you’re alive again—living in the present. 

A woman's body lay sprawled on the cheap, stained bed, blood soaking deep into the mattress. Your gaze travelled over her naked form, legs spread wide in a provocative display. Decaying vines twisted around her ankles and the bed frame, their dark, withered tendrils contrasting against her greying skin. It was a brutal, degrading spectacle.

There is a precise incision right above her pelvis, which is mostly one of the reasons why her entire torso is covered in her own blood, except her breasts. They look as if they were deliberately cleaned, the pink hue still lightly remaining on her skin. 

Her mouth is slightly agape; something inside it is forcing her jaw unnaturally wide. Compelled by a mix of horror and professional detachment, your feet move towards her. You hear Jack say something but it becomes mute when you hear your heartbeat pick up again.

Your gloved hand delicately touches her jaw; now, closer, you can see her features. Up close, her traits become clearer. She’s unremarkable—plain, even. A white, brunette woman of heavy European descent with a slim build. It’s odd to think how un-special she may have been in life but now, in death, she's a spectacle.

Gently, you pry her jaw open, revealing a small, fleshy mass inside. You look towards Jack in confusion and ask, “Can I pull it out?” 

Crawford gives a small nod and moves beside you. You give the object a small pull and it doesn't budge. “You hold her jaw; I’ll pull it out.” Jack says while looking at the strangulation marks on her neck. 

You move your hands and the man pulls. You watch him struggle between delicately grasping it and forcefully yanking it. 

You adjust your grip, one hand on her lower teeth and the other on the upper, pulling them apart. Jack pulls a bit harder; you watch as it starts to slide out, and just when you think its going to be stuck once again, Jack gives a final, forceful yank, and the object comes free.

Jack is holding the woman's uterus. 

“What the fuck?” you exclaim. Momentarily forgetting you two weren't the only ones in the room. Someone behind him brings an evidence bag to Jack, where he drops the organ inside the plastic. 

All eyes shift to the incision on her torso. Another forensic tech steps forward with metal forceps, his face pale but determined. He fiddles with the cut, and when he finally pries it open. You hear others gasp but you're still trying to compute the sight of the mess inside. At first, it looks like a jumble of smooth, misplaced intestines—until you recognize the pattern.

Scales. Snakes.

She’s been hollowed out, and her uterus has been replaced with dead serpents.

PRESENT DAY

It’s been days, and still nothing. The most frustrating part of working in a field that is centered around solving crimes is the cruel irony that sometimes you need more evidence to build a profile—to move forward at all. You've heard about Jack narrowing down the search by identifying the specific metal found on Elise's body, but you honestly couldn't care less.

You deluded yourself into believing that taking on this case was a selfless act, but your defenses are crumbling. You’re here for Will to glue together what was once broken. But you’ve never fucked up on this scale before, and you don’t know how to fix it. Your fingers stick together from your messy revival attempts, and the toxic fumes cloud your mind. Why did you think it was a good idea to show up at his house?

A knock at your door—your own door—in Baltimore interrupts your spiraling thoughts.

No one called to warn you of an appearance; your overactive work brain can't shut off even now, envisioning an ax murderer standing outside your home.

How comical.

"Open up, it’s Crawford." Jack’s voice is muffled but unmistakable. Not an ax murderer; that makes more sense considering it’s 10 AM and you live in an apartment building. Unless he’s here for other reasons, maybe he knows and wants to give you a chance to explain yourself before slapping handcuffs around your wrists.

Unsure how to navigate this possible confrontation, you blurt out the stupidest thing: "Why?"

“Because I need to talk to you,” he shouts impatiently. 

With a sigh, you walk to the door and begin to unlock it. “That’s what my number is for. I thought showing up at my workplace was invasive, but this is—” Your words cut off as you opened the door.

“Who are you?” you ask, your eyes shifting to the unfamiliar man standing beside Jack.

"I’m Dr. Lecter. Jack has asked me to assist in this case, similar to you," he says with a polite smile, more out of courtesy than genuine pleasure.

You recognize the name from Bloom. She mentioned him plenty of times, but this isn’t how you envisioned meeting him. It reminds you of when, after the "incident," as she likes to call it, she recommended him to you and offered to call him. You declined.

"Okay." Your glare bounces between the two men. Jack's scowl deepens while the doctor’s eyes remain fixed on you. You're not sure if he’s blinked once since you opened the door.

Jack groans and begins to speak. “I want you to speak to a professional for a psychological evaluation. I already told you this.”

You’re taken aback by his intrusion. “I’m sorry, is this an intervention?” Crawford opens his mouth to speak, but you continue before he can justify himself.

“This is ridiculous. First, you begged me to help you on this case, and now you're doubting my sanity?” 

You focus on maintaining eye contact with Jack, not fully seeing the doctor's face beside him, but through your blurry peripheral vision, it looks like amusement. What an asshole.

“I’m not doubting your sanity; I’m clearing this up for legal reasons.”

It’s bullshit, and you know it. “You know what I think, Jack? I think you’re scared of another fuck-up.” You bite, “You lost Miriam, and then, because of a lack of diligence on your part, you almost lost another one of your worker bees. And you just can’t handle another tragedy like that again.”

Jack opens and closes his mouth, more-so shocked by how cold you were to him than anything. You’ve been pissy before, but nothing like that.

It’s harsh and untrue; what happened to you or Miriam isn’t Jack's fault, but that’s not the point. You wanted to strike him where it hurts most. He confided in you about his guilt during the aftermath of your incident, and using it against him is cruel, but that’s what you’re going for, and it clearly worked.

Your gaze finally directs to Lecter, “I’m sorry for wasting your time, but I think it’s best you both leave.” 

As you swing your door shut, you see him smile. This time, it’s genuine. His crow's feet become prominent, and his top lip slides up to reveal his pointed canines. You much prefer his disingenuous smile to the one where he looks at you like a pretty little doll who just did a party trick.

2 YEARS EARLIER

The victim, a model named Clare Greene, her once beautiful face beaten until her nose lay flat across her face. Blood pools around her head from her slashed throat, soaking into the plush carpet that her back lies on. In both of her hands rest two magazines; she’s on the front cover of both. 

As you approach the body closer to snap another picture, you notice the defense wounds her wrists bore. “Who found her?” You ask, not to anyone specific; you just let the words come out of your mouth with hopes of an answer. 

“Her fiancé, ma'am. Ethan Kingsley, he was supposed to meet her for breakfast; when she didn’t show up, he came here to check on her.” The officer beside her answers.

You nod, your eyes scanning the room. Broken glass glittered on the floor near the bar; an overturned chair in the corner; the place was covered in blood splatters. 

“Jack!” You shout, hoping to get his attention. 

You hear his footsteps before you see him. “What?” He asks. 

“There's a fine mist of blood over here, most likely a result of her severed artery.” You say while motioning to your neck, “All across the back wall right there. The fatal blow happened here—then she stumbled onto the carpet, where she collapsed, and he started beating her. She was either unconscious or already dead when he started so he did it for the sake of it.” You explain. 

You move closer to her. “The long, linear streaks of blood that fan out from her indicate she was also stabbed before he started beating her. The angle and distribution suggest he was standing above her—not straddling and swinging the weapon in a very vertical downward motion.”

You continue as you lead Jack towards the bar area. “These smaller, less-directed spots are all scattered around this area. I think the first attack was here, but she put her forearms up to block it and ran, leaving the droplets behind as she ran.” You say while mimicking an X with your forearms, “It also matches the shallow defensive wounds right below her elbow; it didn’t go too deep; it seems like a very light slash.” 

Jack nods, quite for a moment. “Okay.” 

Not satisfied with his response, you say, “This is bad, Jack; four murders and no suspects. I’m just-” You cut yourself off with a sigh, ‘“I’m not very confident in my usefulness.” Your head ducks down in your admittance.

“I’m sure many feel that way; there's no point in festering it; that’s not how things get solved.” Jack scolds. 

As much as you’d rather allow Jack’s words to fall deaf on your ears, you know he's right; it’s not about you; it’s about the victims and solving what's been done to prevent more tragedies. “You’re right I’m sorry, you’re not my therapist. I don’t know why I said that.”

Jack says nothing and walks away, leaving you to stew in your own embarrassment over your unwelcome confession. 

PRESENT DAY

The next day, you arrive at your momentary office in the BAU. You can’t shake off the invasive encounter given by Jack. It sits heavily in your mind as you try to focus on the case files in front of you. It feels like your head is so full of tenacity it’ll start leaking out of your ears.

Suddenly, you hear the sound of determined footsteps outside your door. 

The door knobs twist and Beverly speedily walks in before you have time to adjust. Looking a bit more chipper than usual and dropping a stack of papers on your desk.

“Good morning. Any updates?” you ask, masking with a forced smile.

“Just the usual. Lab results, cross-references, the fun stuff,” she replies, giving you a teasing look. “‘Found out the specifics of the metal found on Elise’s body, which narrows things down a bit.” She smiles. 

“What?” you say, picking up and flipping through the papers without really seeing them. "You've got to be shitting me, and Jack didn’t even say anything to me.”

"Well, he mentioned heading off to Baltimore to talk to you but it seemed that never happened.” She cluelessly shrugged. 

Grateful for her being unaware of your awkward encounter with him and Lecter, you ask, “So what happened?”

With a smile, she turns her back and says, “Read it and talk to Jack.”

“Oh fuck you.” You say unserious; she doesn't give another response but you hear her laugh accompanied by your door closing as she leaves the quaint room. 

After reading the file, you make your way towards Jack’s office, curious as to why he didn’t bring this to your attention. As you approach the door to knock, it swings open and bumps into you. “Shit.” You say under your breath, pain blossoming where the door met your toes a moment ago. 

As you back away, Will immediately comes out. You both stand there staring at each other. You see his jaw open to speak before he turns and quickly walks away from you. 

You figure he was going to apologize for the collision, and now all you can think is if the reason he scurried off was because of the obvious stress he was exuding and decided to book it, or if he didn’t deem you worthy of an apology. 

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you peek into Jack's partially opened door and say, “I was wondering-” You feel yourself become silenced with the notice of another person in the room, Dr. Lecter.

“Oh.” Is all you can give for an immediate response. The room is quiet, Jack looks annoyed with your uninvited presence, and the man across from him seems to be sizing you up in a clinical fashion. 

They’re both waiting for you to speak, not wanting for this unbearable silence to continue for longer than you do. “My apologies; I didn’t mean to intrude.” You say before closing the door behind you. 

You quickly scurry off, and as you turn into another hallway, you see a familiar figure hunched over a water fountain. You fasten your pace and Will’s eyes open suddenly from the sound of rapid footsteps. He pulls away from the fountain, water dripping off his chin that he wipes off when he brings his forearm to his face. 

Within the few seconds you have before you reach him, you practice what to say and points to make speak that hopefully can de escalate his discomfort. 

“I understand my presence is quite unbearable for you but I’m asking for your assistance in a professional manner. I’m being left out of the loop on plans for Nichols and I would like to be more aware. I don’t feel as if I’ve contributed much and I’d prefer to do better.” You justify your presence to him. Some parts of you feels pathetic, not because of what you are doing but because you know you would never do it for someone else.

“I’m sure I know as much as you do.” 

You want him to say more to you so desperately. You’d rather him yell at you or punch you in the fucking stomach than be so reserved. You suppose it’s best; you quite literally came up here asserting it’s for professional reasons but only wish he’d deconstruct his walls and allow you in. 

God, you’re so entitled. 

With your shoulders slumped, you cordially respond, “I understand. Thank you for your time.” Before walking away. 

As fate would have it, everything unfolded in its twisted, godly way. The call came in for another victim—a woman impaled on a stag head left to be displayed in an empty field. A stark contrast from the meticulous love of the Strike; the dissonance Jacks is unable to see is migraine-inducing. 

Ding

Your phone chimes, and you really think that whatever higher-power there is is determined to rest your patience today. 

The screen, annoyingly bright, stares back at you, displaying a name that’s foreign to your recent call history.

Will

No last name; you know multiple Will’s, but they’re contacts are accompanied by their last name. But not Graham’s; he’s much more deserving than that. 

You feel like you’re hallucinating when you look at the words asking you to see him and where he’s staying. From any other man, this might have been a crude proposition, but not from Will. Sweet, enigmatic Will. 

You’re not sure if this is meant for someone else. He would have had to search through his contacts to find you, given the long period of silence between you. He couldn't even be sure you still had the same number. 

It must be meant for you. This is the opening you’ve been praying for; you’ve never been more thankful for deities you’re not sure if you even believe in. 

Your legs feel like they're moving for you as you stand up, hardly fazed by the morning cold as you walk to where Will’s staying; leaving your dingy motel room just to go to his. 

It feels like mere seconds from receiving the text to standing at his door; time feels so warped in the grip of anticipation.

Your knuckles gently tap the door multiple times to alert him of your presence. Flashbacks invade your brain of how awful your last encounter was, though your presence seems more welcome now. 

The door opens faster than you can blink. Will’s messy hair and lack of pants make you feel like you're intruding, despite his invitation. 

He cranes his neck out to look behind you. “Come inside,” he says, hushed. 

You walk inside, and all you can think of is how “Will” this place is; it’s like he was meant to stay here. But that could also just be you holding him in higher regard than necessary and assuming the world revolves around him. 

That very well could be it. 

As he closes the door, the room becomes cloaked in darkness. “Can I—could I open a curtain?” You ask. 

"Yeah, sure,” he says, waving off. As you open the curtains to see the morning sun, you see a familiar man dressed in a fitted suit walking towards the door. 

You stiffen, your muscles tighten and lock as you feel Will give you a glance, expecting you to know the visitor. 

“Did you invite Doctor Lecter as well?” You ask, just as confused as he is. 

"No, I did not.” He huffs as he opens the door, revealing the man with his fist raised, about to knock against the wood.

“Eager.” The man outside says with a subtle, entertained smirk. “Good Morning Will” 

Walking closer to the door, tilt your head to take a peek. "Morning, Doctor.” You unenthusiastically greet. 

His face momentarily drops, just quick enough to show disappointment, before rearranging his facial movements to show false delight. 

“Good morning to you as well.” He says politely. You can’t bother to verbally respond; this was meant to be a moment for possible reconciliation. Not interruption. 

Will, who’s deep in thought, snaps back into the present and offers the doctor to step inside out of the morning chill. He accepts it happily, seemingly aware that he interrupted something but he doesn't seem to care; if anything, it seems he’s taking enjoyment in it. 

“I came bearing gifts.” He says, raising the glass containers of food he’s holding. “Though my apologies, I didn’t expect you to have a guest.” He apologizes to Will. 

“I don’t eat in the mornings anyway; it makes me nauseous.” You excuse. 

Will gestures towards the small dining area, silently and awkwardly indicating for everyone to sit. You take a spot, sitting on a stiff wooden chair, trying to ignore the piercing gaze of Hannibal.

“What is the purpose of your visit?” Hannibal asks you as he gives Will his prepared meal as they both settle into their seats, with Will beside you and Hannibal parallel to you.

Wills eyes continue avoiding both of yours. "I needed to talk to someone who understood," he responds for you. 

Hannibal, opening his container of food on the table, raises an eyebrow. "And what exactly do you need to talk about, Will?"

Will hesitates, his fingers nervously fiddling with the fork in his hand. "Cassie Boyle. The case... it’s different this time."

Hannibal leans back, looking intrigued. "Different how?"

“What is the purpose of your visit?” You redirect the conversation. This was meant to be a private conversation and you don't appreciate the way Lecter finds it appropriate to put Will on the spot. 

You watch as his hand tightens the grip around the fork in his palm; he’s mastered the art of his facial control. He really is an incredible attempt at the personification of nonchalant, but he still has his tells. 

“An attempt to befriend a coworker; I’d like to serve the purpose of a mediator, alleviate tension when possible, and give my insight on more grim- work related things.” He answers. 

You know you shouldn’t taunt, but you can’t help it; the temptation is too grand. “What makes one worthy of a visit and what disqualifies another?” 

Hannibal seems pleased by your words, oddly enough. “You are more than qualified; I figured you’d appreciate time. I understand you’re not necessarily fond of me.”

“I’d argue the only person fond of you in this room is yourself.” You bite. Hannibal says nothing in return, nor does Will. They both eat in silence as you fidget with your hands, desperate to be soothed.

Staring at the painted wall in front of you, you watch through your peripheral as Hannibal swallows a bite of food from his fork and opens his mouth to speak to Will. “I would apologize for my analytical ambush the other day, but I know I would be apologizing again.” He says, flicking his head towards you briefly in recognition. “And you’ll tire of that eventually, so I have to consider using apologies sparingly.”

Quickly and harshly Will responds, “Just keep it professional.”

Hannibal responds after taking another bite of his cooking, “Or we could socialize like adults; God forbid we become friendly.”

“Where's Crawford?” You ask as soon as the thought rolls into your head. 

Hannibal’s head stiffly turns to face you. “Deposed in court. The journey will be ours today.” He curtly says. 

Then why did he exclusively come to Will? Why has he seemingly made no plans to properly introduce himself to you?

It’s not that you're jealous; it’s not his attention that you want; it’s just the simple need to be recognized as an equal. You’re good at what you do—great, even. And this isn’t the first time someone has disregarded you for no apparent reason. Well, you think you know why. 

Standing up from your chair, you speak. “If you don’t mind, I’ll be off-”

“Why?” Will immediately asks, mouth full of chewed food. 

“Gotta get ready for the day. Unfortunately, it takes more effort than just a clean shirt and brushed hair for me to be presentable. I’m sure you’d understand that, Doctor.” 

The moment the words come out of your mouth, you realize the accidental insult you've just given. You didn’t even mean to insinuate that he’s someone who must put in extra effort in order to be ready for the day, but by the way his grip tightens on his fork once again and the displeasing curl of his lips, you're sure he took it that way. 

“Jack gave a rental; I can drive you when you're ready?” Will offers, as pleased and equally confused you are for his sudden change of heart on your existence. You are also well aware that Lecter will most likely be hitching a ride to.

“I actually drove here. I thought it would be good for me to have some more time to sort out my thoughts.” You say, walking towards the door. “But thank you; I’ll see you both soon.” You say, as curtly as possible before twisting the handle and making your exit. 

Files, files and more files are all you’ve sorted through since you arrived at your destination, the place where the Shrike most likely works. 

You hear a car pull up next to the dingy little trailer of the office of the work site, the sound vibrant against the noise of ruffling papers and the secretary talking to her boss on the corded phone sitting on her desk. 

The door creaks open, and as you turn around, you’re greeted by the sight of Will walking in through the door held open by Hannibal. 

“I’ve sorted through these four on the left so far,” you say in reference to the seemingly never ending towers of file cabinets. “And those boxes are where I’m throwing shit that if you twist an arm and a leg, you might be able to find something slightly suspicious.” 

Hannibal walks in, closing the door behind him and Will nods. “What about her?” He asks, tilting his head to the side where the secretary sits. 

“Conversation with her boss, I think. One that doesn’t seem to be going very well.” You explain with a tiny humorous smirk. Her head snaps towards you as she glares, unable to verbalize any frustration so she settles for squinted eyes. 

“Do you need direction?” You condescendingly ask. Hannibal, seemingly unfazed by your attitude at this point, does nothing but shake his head and say, “Not yet, no. But I’m sure you’ll give me some.” His smile contradicting his pointed words. 

Moments went by, flipping through papers upon papers. The feeling of being stuck in a never ending loop is finally broken by the secretary's voice directed at the three of you. 

“What did you say your names where?” She asks, standing up. 

Before you or Hannibal could respond, Will does. “Garrett Jacob Hobbs?”

With a sigh, the woman answers, “He’s one of our pipe threaders. Those are all the resignation letters. ‘Plumbers Union requires ‘em whenever members finish a job.” She says, before quickly spinning around and whispering into the phone, “I’ll call you back.” And places the landline back onto the plunger. 

Finished with her phone conversation, Will continues to inquire. "Uh, does Mr. Hobbs have a daughter?”

“Might have.” She says in her tired, monotone voice. 

“Eighteen or nineteen, wind-chafed, um- plain but pretty. She’d have auburn hair; be about this tall.” He motions a bit below his ear. 

She shrugs in response. “Maybe I don't know. I don’t keep company with these people.”

“What is it about Garrett Jacob Hobbs you find so peculiar?” Lecter's voice chimes in. 

“He left a phone number, no address.” He answers, his back still facing you both. 

 The doctor questions Will once again, turning to face more towards him, “And therefore he has something to hide?”

Taking a short breath to breathe, Will answers, “The others all left addresses; he also missed work for days at a time.” You can see he’s slowly getting more wound up. His mind is moving and scrambling around different possibilities too fast for him to make sense of, and what he can decipher is nothing short of tasteless. 

"Do you have an address for Mr. Hobbs?” You chime in an attempt to take a sliver of weight off of Will’s shoulders. 

The dark haired woman rolls her eyes and silently walks toward her desk. She takes a few moments to gather her information, the sounds of a keyboard clicking and shallow- impatient breaths fill the room. 

Grabbing a pen, she scribbles numbers onto the small square of paper before standing up once more to hand it to Will. 

As often as it happens, you feel like you’ll never get used to the way men are consistently served first in this field. It's not Will’s fault of course, and you’re sure it wasn’t intentional on her part. But in a way that makes it worse, how habitual it is to subconsciously ignore you, woman, really anything out of the typical white male mold of an old detective movie. 

You’ll never forget how Jack was so quickly disregarded in one of the first cases you accompanied him with. It was in some southern state where a series of home invasions resulted in multiple murders over a handful of months. On the way to the crime scene, the neighbourhood held lawns of homes that were decorated with not only American flags but Confederate ones as well. You watched the way the local police interacted with Crawford. The kind of people who tolerated him for his help but nothing else—aversion constantly clouded their eyes. 

It's not that you haven't encountered appalling people of that sort before, but it was the moment when it clicked that no matter how remarkable your work is, if Crawford could be so quickly disregarded because prejudice, the man who was truly their saving grace for this case, what chance do you have to truly excel in your field?

“I could start loading the boxes in the trunk; can you unlock it?” You ask, not even bothering to look at the yellow Post-it note containing the address. 

Looking at you with brows furrowed, he digs in his trouser pockets. “It’s manual, you have to unlock it.” He says while handing you the set of cool rigid metal. 

“That's fine.” You say with a smile before heading out the door. Taking a breath of metal-scented air in an attempt to calm your nerves. Things are going okay—well, even.

 Will seems to be no longer sickened by your presence, for whatever reason that may be. You're trying not to think of that, the reasoning for this sudden change of heart, and how you may already know it if it weren't for Lecter's earlier intrusion. 

You're trying not to hold much disdain for him, to put it aside for the time being when there are non-metaphorical lives on the line. But it’s hard when the only thing you now personally know him for is an invasive little bastard. Not much like Bloom had described him to you before, back when you were civil. That's not fair to her, though; she’s civil—you're not. You're much too bitter now for niceties.

Moments pass by while you, Will, Hannibal and the secretary are hauling boxes out of the small office trailer into the back of the rental car. A monotonous and tedious task. One that may not seem to be fit for all though, as the doctor allows a box to stumble in hands, paper falling onto the wet ground. 

Of course, Will’s the one to solve the problem, falling to his knees to scrounge the paper and telling the man not to worry. You watch as he doesn't even give a thank you in return; he just hustles back inside. 

Clearly, the man doesn't have as much decorum inside of him as he presents. 

Though you may not have room to speak, the moment the task was done, you grabbed the address covered note and put it into your car's GPS before telling Will just to follow you. You're sure you're contributing to his stress by being so evasive, but until you can stop being so erratic, your best bet is to stay slippery, not allowing him to get a good enough grasp on who you are before you can conceal it.

The robotic voice from your center console alerts you of the approaching destination. Turning on your turn signal a bit early to alert Will driving behind you of the driveway you are about to pull into.

You can only appreciate the home once you step out of your car. The plain suburbia of the family home becomes clearer once you get closer to the front door. 

You turn to watch Will and Lecter step out of the car, Hannibal surveying the place with an analytical gaze much like your own, while Wills is unique. It’s Wills. 

You're unsure if you should wait for Will and have him be the one to knock at the door. You’re defenceless; you have no gun, no badge, and no reason for someone to open the door for you alone. 

The decision seems to have been made for you when the door opens. Turning to look, you are greeted by the sight of bloodied hair and body weight pushed onto you. Before being granted a moment to collect your thoughts, you feel yourself falling. The sight of a man with a knife turning away is the only distinct thing you can make out as the rest melts into a scene of blurry green and blue before you and the body on top of you hit the ground.

The moment your head hits the concrete, you know you're done for. The sound of your hard skull smacking against the ground reverberates through your spine like an echo. An uncomfortable pounding takes over all your senses as Will runs up to you. The body weight of the woman is pushed off of you. You can hear the vibrations of his voice against your eardrums but nothing more—all unintelligible in your mangled brain. 

You can feel your mind quickly leave its haze as fast as it came to you, your senses returning. You pull yourself up on your forearms to try to slowly raise yourself up. “Go.” Your voice sounds weird coming out of you; it's so loud that it feels like a microphone is hiding in your throat. 

An unfamiliar hand grabs the back of your skull. “I’m here; you can go, Will.” Hannibal's voice firmly says behind you. 

And he does; he quickly stands, pulling out his gun and walks into the house as Lecter pulls you by your armpits to sit properly. “You’re not bleeding.” He states, moving your hair around your head softly to check. 

“Bleeding.” You think. Blood. You can feel blood all over your skin. You know you’re not bleeding, you don’t feel anything leaving you. But you feel everything on you. 

The woman lays beside you, face up towards the dreary sky, as the sound of a quiet pattering of blood collects in a pool below. “God.” You exclaim while attempting to push yourself up from your wobbly arms.

“Slow do-” The accented voice behind you speaks before being cut off by a series of gunshots. You feel each noise in your chest, each one causing your heart to sink further into your stomach. Ignoring the dizziness blooming in your head, you clumsily stand up. Hannibal's hands pointlessly attempt to grip you to help your stability as you quickly stumble into the Hobbs residence. 

The overwhelming smell of iron invades your nostrils—you freeze. Will huddles over a limp body, you from behind as he struggles to place his hands. Jack was right, you're not ready for this. Slumped in the corner lies a man, bullet wounds decorating his chest in rows.

Will killed him.

Your mind plays the sentence over and over again on loop as you feel Dr. Lecter's eyes bore into the back of your skull. He walks over to Will, his posture so straight that it's unnerving. The way his hands steadily grip the young girl's throat to prevent more blood from spurting out mocks your shaky ones. 

Will beside him looks just as shaken up as you do, sitting there frozen, watching as the girl on the floor clings to life. 

“Call in.” Hannibal's voice shakes you from your thoughts. As if on autopilot, your bloody hand messily dials for an ambulance. Your words sound so foreign, entirely not yours, as you explain the scene in front of you, eyes locked on Will as he dissociates from his surroundings. 

It happens so slowly and so fast. A whirl of paramedics running in. Ushering you all to leave, but you can’t. The moment you exit the door, you freeze at the woman's body in front of you.     

She was murdered, died on top of you and was the last bit of warmth she felt before she went cold. You feel sad, A woman's life was brutally stolen from her far too early. You feel sad about the surrounding context of her death, but mostly you feel gross, dirty, sticky, and frustrated that she had to expel her life force all over you. 

You want a shower.  

After getting checked by the waiting paramedic outside, who confirmed a grade 1 concussion. You can't stop thinking about what just happened to Will's head. He just murdered a man to save a life and you know what that can do to someone—it's the exact thing that ruined you. 

You’ve done it again, showing up uninvited again, only this time to his motel room and not his home. But you have to talk to him. 

Some agent you never even got the name of drove you both back to your respected quarters. Neither of you were in a state to drive; you can’t for the next 48 hours and Will... God knows how Will is. 

That's why your visit is needed; it’s not for your peace of mind; it's not an apology; it’s to make sure he's not alone with thoughts and has someone to help clear them. 

After knocking at his door once again, he opens it. “Hi.” Your voice cracks.

“Hi.” Greets back. He sounds…tired.

“I wanna come in.” You tell him there's no point in pleasantries; he’s known why you’re here since the moment you knocked on the door. 

Fortunately, that gets him to crack a small smile and say, “Sure.” 

As you both walk further into his room, he closes the door behind you. The room’s dimly lit, and the curtains drawn tightly to block out the world. You can see the disarray around you—books strewn across the floor, papers piled haphazardly on the desk, and an untouched dinner plate on the nightstand.

“I brought a gift.” You say, sticking your arm out, handing him the bottle.

"Vending machine root beer, you shouldn’t have." He attempts a joke, but the effort is hollow. Everything he says only deepens your concern; he’s so quick to brush off everything that's happened and act as if everything's fine.

“You���re freaking me out, Will,” you awkwardly laugh. “I know your feeling pretty fucked up right now. You don’t have to act unbothered.”  

He sucks in a breath through his teeth, a defensive look quickly absorbing his eyes. “Just because you couldn’t handle it doesn’t mean I can’t.” The moment the weight of the words he’s thrown at you registers, Will's face drops. His entire guarding demeanour immediately shatters the moment they come out.

"I-I’m sorry." You stutter out in shock of how his attitude is instantaneously flipped by words. "I know what happened was different; I just wanted to check up on you." Your words are met with silence, the two of you just pitifully staring at each other. The room feels colder, the silence is more suffocating.

He breathes out your name so softly that you almost don’t hear it. “I don’t know…why I sa-said that.” His hand roughly runs through his hair as he takes a step forward. “I want you to stay.” He states, uncharacteristically bold from him. 

Unsure what to make of his words, you just stand there. Both your minds are reeling—Will’s for a way to apologize and yours to just disappear. 

“I know I didn’t handle myself well.” You say, taking a deep breath, “I’m not saying my actions will be your own; I just wish I had someone to understand what its like to take a human life and not hate it.” 

That's it—the thing you could never admit, not even to yourself. So much time was spent sprilling about why you are the way you are. Trying to convince yourself that this feeling brewing inside you is new, that it had been manually moulded. 

Panicking from your admission, you quickly follow up. “I didn’t mean to project—fuck, I just don’t want you to wallow in the guilt of change like I did. What Hobbs did- who he was—was entirely irredeemable.” 

Another step closer and the gap between you both becomes bridged, and his large hands rest gently on your cheeks. “I’m sorry.” He delicately whispers. 

You can’t help it; you fall apart and the dam behind your eyes breaks. The tears cascade down your cheeks faster than you can blink them away as he pulls you into his chest. You can feel the steady thump of his heartbeat, the reminder that he’s real, he’s here, and he’s okay.

“I was so fucking scared when I heard those gunshots,” you whisper into his chest. His grip on you tightens, pushing you further into him. You both stay like that for God knows how long. From how heavily you’ve soaked his T-shirt with your tears and how you feel it around your brow bones and eye sockets, you’d guess it’s been a while. And with a deep sigh, you finally feel him pull away. “Are you okay?” He asks, gently looking you up and down.

“I should be asking you that.” You scoff, “Minor concussion; I’ll be fine in a couple days and a good night's sleep.”

He raises his brows in shock. “Yeah, well, good luck getting that.” You can’t help but laugh at his tone and reaction, as if you just said the most bizarre thing in the world. 

A grin makes his way across his face at the sound of your laugh. “I miss you.” 

You freeze. It’s what he said that took you off-gaurd, just the way he said it. The tone wasn’t sad or nostalgic; it was happy. Present tense too; he didn’t once mourn you and, over time, healed the wounds of a lost friendship. No, they’re still open, and he still misses you.

You were so caught up in your concern for him that you never had a moment to grasp the closeness between you too. Looking up, you see him. The individual hairs growing out of his chin, forming his stubble; the small scar on his cheek that he got when he was a child but doesn't remember how; and his eyes. Those blue eyes that hold so much patience, so much care and so much understanding it makes you weak to your knees. You see Will—sweet, complex, deserving Will. 

His hands grip your face more firmly this time, peering into your soul like you just autopsied yours. He's drinking you in your image, like he’s been starved, dehydrated, and famished. You wouldn’t dare pull away and deny him what he wants; you’ll give him anything and if he wants your soul, you’ll bare it to him. 

“The only thing I regret is everything I did to you.” It’s such a heavy admission—one that’s entirely out of left field, and he still doesn’t know the true weight of it. “Please,” The words so delicately come from you. You’re not sure what your pleading for—forgiveness? But for which of your sins? In what context are you begging for repentance?

It doesn't matter what you decide. The only thing that does is how close his lips are to yours and how it’s still not enough. 

“I know.” His lips brush against yours, tentative at first, then more certain. The kiss is a soft exploration, a silent conversation filled with all the words you couldn’t bring yourselves to say. You feel his hands trembling slightly against your skin, betraying the calm exterior he’s trying to maintain. 

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless. He rests his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. He’s quiet, waiting for the moment for you to turn and run like you do, but it doesn’t come. Instead, your hand finds itself on the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his curls as you pull him in for another kiss. 

Just as eager as you, he deepens the kiss, his hands moving from your cheeks to your waist, desperate to have you as close as he can. You could feel his heart beating against his chest, rhythmically in-sync with your own.

Energy intensifies, with hands greedily grabbing whatever they can, saliva coating each other's lips, feet scrambling across the floor until your back hits the crumpled sheets of the unmade motel bed.   

The thin mattress creaks under your combined weight, but you barely notice—too preoccupied with catching each sound that spills from Will's mouth. His hands explore the curves and slopes of your torso with an urgency so similar to yours. Every touch, every kiss, makes your body buzz with ache, desperate to consume him from the outside-in. 

He breaks away for a moment, his breath ragged, eyes dark with desire. "Are you sure?" he asks, his voice a rough whisper.

"Yes," you reply without hesitation, your voice as steady as you could be despite the pounding of your heart. "I’m sure."

With that, he captures your lips again, his hands slipping under your shirt, the warmth of his calloused fingertips on your ribs sending shivers within you. You lose yourself in the sensation, the world outside the room fading into oblivion. 

All you can think of is Will. 

Will's hands slipping off your shirt. 

Will’s chest bare against yours as you slip off his. 

Will’s mouth on your neck, nibbling on your collarbone. 

Will looking deliciously vulnerable covered in crimson outside of the Hobbs house. 

The moan that slips out of your mouth as his tongue meets your nipple is involuntary; his wet mouth lays kisses and bites along the fat of your breast as he grips the other. 

He looks up at you, his eyes dark and hungry as he breathes your name out, his voice thick with lust coating his vocal cords like honey. His hands roam lower, fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants, slowly sliding them down your hips. His kisses trail down from your sternum to your stomach, getting sloppier as his breath contrasts with the coolness of his spit. 

You gasp as he reaches your underwear, his fingers teasing the fabric. "Will," you whimper, your voice a mixture of need and desperation you’ve never heard from yourself before. 

He peers up at you, his silvery eyes filled with desire—desire for you. "Do you trust me?"

Without a moment of hesitation, you reply, "Yes."

With a smile both wicked and tender, he pulls your underwear down and spreads your legs, revealing you to him. His eyes roam over your body, taking in every detail, every curve, and every inch. He leans in, his breath hot against your slick center, and then his tongue flicks out, tasting you.

You arch your back, a moan escaping you as he explores you with his mouth. His fingers tease your entrance, rubbing just around it in circles while his tongue dances around your clit. 

You grip the sheets tightly, your nails digging into the fabric. You’d latch your hands onto his head but you're afraid you’d rip his scalp off his head. The sensations are overwhelming, not because of the pleasure coursing through you, but because it’s Will distributing it. 

Will's mouth is relentless, his tongue flicking and probing, while his fingers continue to tease.

He was devouring you, and you were more than happy to be consumed. 

“Will," you moan, your voice breathy, desperate for more—anything else he’s willing to give. "Please." 

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with lust, then slides two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out in a slow, steady rhythm. You cry out, your body bucking against his mouth, your hips grinding against his fingers as you feel the prickle of his facial hair on your thighs as you squeeze them tighter around his head. 

“So good,” he whimpers into you, his voice a mixture of need and desperation while he works you closer to your ledge. He does nothing but continue his assault, his tongue flicking against your clit, his fingers thrusting in and out of you. You can feel the orgasm building in your stomach, the pressure mounting higher and higher as he desperately bucks into the bed for some form of friction.

"Will," you cry out, your voice louder this time, begging him for your release. He’s still so wordless—nothing but the vibrations of moans and grunts coming from him. Instead, he responds by increasing the pace of his fingers, his tongue more aggressive as you feel yourself tipping over the edge. 

You feel your body move for you, sporadically convulsing as your orgasm washes over you as he drinks up release, coating his mouth and fingers. He continues his movements while you come down from your high, his hands prying your thighs open as he fucks his tongue into you, savouring your taste.

You're left panting, your body trembling, and your mind swimming in a foggy haze of pleasure when he finally pulls away from you with an expression of satisfaction. He moves up your body, his lips finding yours in a tender kiss. 

You can feel your slick coating his facial hair as he kisses you, rubbing it onto you. It’s a messy and filthy action but fuck does it get you going. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice gruff but gentle. 

You can’t help but smile; he’s so fucking perfect. 

A grin coats your face. “Yeah.” He’s gorgeous; the light is low, the cool light of the moon peeking out the sides of the curtains. You can’t see Will in his entirety, but that’s fine. His face so close to yours, his body on top of yours—you don’t need to see him; just feel him. 

He smiles a small-relieved grin. “Good,” he whispers before pulling away. You didn’t realize he removed sweats until you felt the tip of his cock teasing you. A whine escapes from your lips as he rocks his dick back and forth along your pussy, coating himself in your cum. 

He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, his pace deliberate, giving you time to adjust. Your brain short-circuits from how deeply he’s stretching you out every time he slips himself further inside you. 

He pauses, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot against your skin. “You feel so fucking good.”

You feel braindead; you've never been so pilant in your life. “More.” You manage to whisper out, your voice shaky. 

He starts to move, his thrusts slow and shallow. Just the feeling of his cock repeatedly entering you makes your brain feel fuzzy. You can feel every inch of him, the way he fills you, how tightly you’re wrapped around him. 

You grip his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he picks up pace, his thrusts becoming more forceful, more demanding. “‘Missed you so fucking much,” he grumbles into your neck.

“M’sorry.” You whimper, “M’sorry, M’sorry.” You say fragmentedly, it took him nothing to fuck you dumb and yet your entire brain is filled with nothing but the repetition of his name. 

The room is filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the wetness of your bodies, and the occasional moan that escapes from either of your lips—the both of you soaking up the feeling of each other in this moment. 

You can feel the pressure building up again—the familiar prickle in your abdomen. “Please, don’t fucking stop.” Your voice desperately cries out.  

He doesn’t slow down; instead, he picks up pace, his thrusts becoming more frantic, more desperate. You can feel him shaking, his body trembling as he nears his climax. Not bothering the silence himself anymore, he becomes just as loud as you, no longer speaking coherent praises, just moans and grunts that slowly raise in pitch with each stroke inside you he makes. 

Nothing but each other’s names spill from your lips in affirmation that you're both here, together. You cry out, your back arching off the bed in a desperate attempt to be closer as your orgasm crashes over you. Your pussy clenches around him, milking him as he spills himself inside you, as he collapses on top of you. You feel his breath against your neck in ragged pants as his cock continues to twitch inside you, the last of his cum filling you up. 

You wrap your arms around him, you're both spent. Bodies slick with cum and sweat, the euphoric high wearing off allowing the reality of how tired you’ve been the last couple to take hold of you. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” You breathlessly ask. As sleepy as you are, you have to make an attempt to do what you came for—someone to talk to. 

Head on your chest, you can feel his smile form. “I was liking how little talking we were doing.” 

A laugh puffs from chest at his response, “That works too.” You say, gazing down at him. As if he could feel your stare, he raises his head to look at you, chin resting on your breast. “I’m happy.”

A small laugh now finds its way from his chest at the juvenile remark. As ridiculous as it seems, that is the best way to describe it. It doesn't need complex-flowery language, you're just glad to be in his presence, alive and healthy. You're just happy. 

And he understands, his gaze softens as a sincere smile crawls on his face, “Me too.”

[genericpuff]

This might be kind of a stupid question, but in total, how many times did Rachel retconned LO? I clearly remember Hypnos being trapped for 10 years and then it getting retconned to "a few days"

Also, Hera, Demeter, Hestia going from friends to sisters

Did something else get retconned…?

UHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-

this question got me thinking so hard i consulted the UnpopularLO crew, here's what we were able to come up with but there are almost definitely more examples:

Melinoe claims she's only been trapped for a few days but this contradicts what Hypnos told us about Kronos using a child deity to overthrow the Underworld in the first place. Unless this just means Persephone showed up just a day or two after everyone fell into a deep sleep, but considering the state of the Underworld when she arrives and other things we're told after the S2 finale, there's no way this is the case.

Speaking of Melinoe, the whole concept of "the interloper" was clearly something Rachel came up with on the fly and didn't have an actual solution to because when we're first told about them, they look nothing like Melinoe:

The weird replacement of Hades' imagined childhood self with Melinoe as a dream child who was actually "always present" throughout the first two seasons. Like, why is Hades so familiar with the ghost child 'checking in on him' if this was some random thing that started happening due to Kronos messing around with the timeline?

The sudden 'reveal' that Ouranos was the one pulling the strings and manipulating Apollo since the very beginning even though that makes zero sense and was completely unnecessary to explaining Apollo's motivations. Apollo himself even constantly flip flops between being some evil mastermind out to get Persephone for a very specific purpose (overthrowing Zeus) and being just a completely oblivious obsessed asshole who doesn't understand consent and actually believes Persephone is in love with him. After all, why would Apollo go on a date with Daphne and then ask her if she'd be willing to cut her hair to look like Persephone's if the goal was to get his hands on Persephone specifically for the purpose of using her powers to overthrow Zeus? How in the world does Daphne factor into that?

Throughout S1 and 2, the gods claim that the mortals are largely disposable and easily replaceable, but then when Persephone causes the plague, suddenly mortals need to be protected because their beliefs and rituals are necessary to sustaining the gods (funny how Hermes bounces between the mortals being necessary to save at all costs but also just inconvenient to live without, like which is it lmao):

The whole "plan" to overthrow Kronos bouncing between being Hera's idea and being Zeus' idea. Rachel just couldn't seem to decide if she wanted a strong female character like Hera to be a victim manipulated into abuse or willingly choosing to put herself in harm's way for the "greater good". IIRC it's written out in the end that Hera and Zeus couldn't even remember who came up with the plan first (but don't quote me on that, I need to find the panels, they do stick out in my mind but I don't know which episode they're specifically from)

The reveal that Hera was the missing fertility goddess depicted on the mural when the original reveal of the mural looks nothing like how it looks later in the flashback sequences. This is the same as the Interloper problem where Rachel was clearly grasping at setting up some kind of mystery box that she didn't know the contents of.

The reveal that Zeus and Metis had a relationship which is what allowed him to use her powers in the first place (because within that same episode Rachel revealed that a bond of love was necessary to using them, but then clearly realized that meant Zeus and Metis had to be in love)

Zeus consuming Metis was changed into some plan to "protect Hera" from being used as a fertility goddess power battery, but then Zeus just went ahead and slowly drained Hera of her powers anyways.

Metis becoming a star after being eaten by Zeus because reasons.

The text messages from Leuce and Hades were retroactively changed into a "manifestation board", probably to absolve Hades of "fooling around" while Persephone was trapped in the Mortal Realm, but all at the expense of a woman who was now retconned into being delusional just for the sake of strengthening the main ship and giving Persephone someone to bully.

The reveal during the trial that Eris was the cause of Persephone's wrath when there was literally zero reason for that to be the case.

The reveal during the trial that Thanatos was actually Hades' adopted son, which really doesn't look good on Hades considering how much of a dick he was to Thanatos throughout the entirety of the first two seasons without any impression given that they might have a canon father-son dynamic.

Apollo and Artemis WEREN'T originally going to be children of Zeus in LO, as Rachel didn't want to create any possibilities for incest within the messy family tree of the Greek gods, but then she decided to make them the children of Zeus anyways as a "plot twist" which is really silly considering 1.) most people would assume they're Zeus' children anyways due to being his children in the myths, and 2.) she still designed them to look just like Zeus.

The subtle but very present SA retcon. This one's so egregious and in-depth I wrote an entire essay about it.

Minthe was originally written with BPD which Rachel decided to "move away from", probably because she realized how shitty it made her look to give BPD to the one character she was pitting the audience against as the "mean other girl" who we all knew was eventually going to be turned into a plant.

Edited panels and changes in the physical books. This is unfortunately not something that I can fully document here, I'm planning on making an actual dedicated post for it, but people have caught changes both in the webtoon version of the comic AND the physical prints that point to Rachel trying to quietly retcon things in the wake of her own bad writing, one of which is present in that aforementioned SA erasure essay in which a scene was added to make Persephone seem more sympathetic towards Apollo. That said, there's also a scene in the trial arc that was changed in the webtoon version, in which Rachel retconned Eris' dialogue from revealing that Hades was the reason Demeter wasn't queen of the mortal realm to reminding her that Hades was the reason (because obv later on we'd get a flashback sequence showing us what happened between Demeter and Hades, which implied that Demeter knew all along what Hades did because he did it right in front of her):

(isn't it funny-weird how Persephone never asks about this despite being in the courtroom when Eris mentions this?)

There are almost DEFINITELY more examples of Rachel absentmindedly and/or intentionally retconning things throughout LO, but that's what we were all able to come up with and should at least get the gears moving in our heads when thinking about other instances of it throughout the comic. Granted, some of these are arguably less 'retcons' and more so just logical inconsistencies / plotholes / etc. but they all still point towards Rachel doing a very bad job at keeping track of her own comic's narrative, its characters, and its twists, even in spite of having multiple other people working for her who all seem to enjoy LO (including heyitsjaki, who is also a webcomic creator), an editor with a background in television writing, and a massive and dedicated fanbase that actively keeps track of her story and its themes arguably more than she does. At that point it feels less "oopsie daisy!" and more just deadass not giving a shit. I don't want to accuse her of intentionally doing this, but it's like she knows her fanbase will just go with whatever she tells them even when it doesn't align with other things she's told them or make sense within the overall narrative - and she'll still be rewarded with Eisner awards regardless - so she doesn't bother to actually try when it comes to the writing, it's just about meeting that panel quota and giving people more H x P fluff.

The simpler answer though, even outside LO, is that Rachel just can't write.

[bookishdaze]

Noa and Mae as Romeo and Juliet in the Next Planet of the Apes Movie?

Here's why a potential "love story" between Mae and Noa, whether explicit or simply implied, may not be such a terrible idea.

Why? Because Shakespeare told me so, that's why.

"When in doubt, it's from Shakespeare....or the Bible." At least according to a book I had to read for high school, lol.

The biblical references in Caesar's trilogy have been pointed out multiple times already, and these movies have also been described as Shakespearean tragedies. So I thought, 'ok, what kind of Shakespearean tragedy will we have this time around?'

I'm first gonna start off with Hamlet in the Caesar trilogy. I'm also gonna mention other popular movies that are based on Shakespeare's plays. Not necessarily because it's concrete proof that this is what will happen in future POTA movies. This is me simply picking up certain storytelling beats and patterns I've noticed in some of my favorite movies.

It's not 100% the same, but there are some similarities. Also, this isn't anything new. Many have pointed this out before, but I love talking about this stuff!

The Lion King, Black Panther, and Dawn of the Planet of the Apes are loosely based on Hamlet. A king or rightful heir is killed. Usually by an evil uncle, cousin, or family member. For some reason this always results in them falling off a very high cliff.

Everyone thinks they're dead, the evil relative takes power, and everything kinda sucks. There is not enough food in the Pride Lands under Scar's rule. Killmonger burns the heart-shaped herbs. Koba leads the apes to war against the humans.

The rightful ruler spends time in exile, recovering from their wounds and trauma. They might even get a visit or have a recollection of their dead father.

Then the rightful ruler comes back from the dead, challenges the usurper, and regains their rightful place upon the throne.

Now lets take a look at their sequels.

The Lion King 2 and Wakanda Forever share some similarities. They both follow another one of Shakespeare's popular plays, Romeo and Juliet.

Like the Montagues and Capulets, we have two rival kingdoms in both movies. We got the Pridelanders and the Outsiders. We also got the Wakandans and Talokanils.

The two heirs/rulers from both kingdoms meet. They hate and don't trust each other at first, but then they start to have compassion for the other. In Kiara and Kovu's case, they fall in love. Namor and Shuri don't fall in love, but after Namor shows her his underwater kingdom and what he has to protect, she softens and begins to understand him more. (They even got the whole Hades and Persephone thing going on, who are a couple in Greek mythology, by the way).

There are losses on both sides. Kovu's brother was killed while going after Simba. One of Namor's people was killed when Shuri was rescued by Nakia, and Shuri's mother, Queen Ramonda, died after Namor's attack on Wakanda. (Starts nervously eyeing Anaya here...)

These losses make things worse, by the way.

In the end, both pairs are able to bring the fighting between their people to a stop. The Outsiders are welcomed into Simba's pride. The Wakandans and Talokanils stop fighting after seeing their leaders return together.

In the end, they realize that they're the same. That they can't let hate and fear of the other side cloud their judgement.

Kiara tells her father, "A wise king once told me we are one....Look at them. They are us. What differences do you see?"

Shuri tells Namor while she spares his life, "Vengeance has consumed us. We cannot let it consume our people."

And I think this goes well with one of the core themes of these POTA movies. The apes are a mirror to humanity. We the audience are seeing us through them, and the characters in the movies themselves must come to the realization that they're the same.

Like when Caesar tells his son, "I always think ape better than human. I see now how much like them we are."

Maybe something similar like this will happen with Noa and Mae and whatever fight will happen between apes and humans. While I'm all for a good romance, it may end up being more like Namor and Shuri's case. There's something there. The tropes are present, but they don't fall in love. (At least not yet. Please Ryan Coogler, give me Nashuri endgame in Black Panther 3, hehe).

This is just a theory, by the way. This doesn't have to happen, but I just think it'd be neat. There would be differences though. What those differences would be, idk, but whatever happens in the next one, I can't wait!

"But but.... aren't you forgetting something?"

What's that?

"Don't they...ya know...both die at the end?"

Besides, they don't have to die. Things can be a little more hopeful for our two heroes 🙈

[apollosgiftofprophecy]

Greek mythology has evolved over the course of hundreds of years, and with all those… retellings now, it’s gotten me thinking about just how many people have been spreading false details of myths through word of mouth to the point of becoming the most common interpretation, when if you were to look back in history, a great number of them were only recently made up, barely a a few centuries prior. Example of this is King Midas and his turning his daughter into a gold statue. I remember this part having been included all throughout my childhood, only to find out it was never part of the original myth but a recent addition in a book from 1852. (suddenly, the daughter being aptly named “Marigold” makes a lot more sense.) My ask is: which commonly told misconception of this type regarding any Greek myth is most infuriating to you and why?

oh my god misinformation can be INFURIATING smh

Let's start off with the Apollo misinformation.

"He raped Persephone/is a serial rapist!"

First of all, no he did not. LO, toss yourself into an eternal blaze and incinerate.

and secondly- he's not a serial rapist. There's only two accounts of rape, specifically Dryope and Creusa, but that depends on interpretation and the source so if you want to discard it, you can. No one can tell you you can't.

"UwU Apollo's love life is terrible!"

do i even need to say anything?

"Athena hates women!"

hell to the fuck no. the evidence people use for this is the Medusa Myth: Ovid's Version, and CONVIENTLY IGNORE THE ONES WHERE SHE HELPS WOMEN ESCAPE BEING RAPED!! AND THAT OVID IS THE ONLY ONE WHO DOES THIS!!

Even with the ones where she punishes the victim, the older versions do not have that! She made Nicymene her eternal owl companion, for heaven's sake!

"Hermes/Dionysus/Hephaestus is the only unproblematic god! UwU"

uh... *waves Leuconoe/Choine/Philonis around* no matter which version you go with, Hermes/Mercury does rape her...

...and in the Dionysica Dionysus rapes like two women...

...and Hephaestus tried to rape Athena... (oh wow, would you look at that...it's like Athena would have *gasp* sympathy for assault survivors...)

...See the double standards? :/ Ignores Roman/late Greek literature when it's convenient, and then exaggerates it to suit their own needs.

"Demeter is a terrible mom!"

GET OUT OF MY HOUSE NO ONE DISRESPECTS THE QUEEN

"Hades only kidnapped Persephone because Zeus told him too!"

Hades is his own man and wasn't being held at gunpoint to abduct her. He did so on his own merits. From a literal perspective, what was stopping him from just. you know. talking to her. kidnapping was not necessary.

(yes, yes, i know about the symbolic perspective, hence my use of 'literal'.)

"But Hades and Persephone are the only ones who don't cheat!!"

uh, nope. Hi Adonis, Minthe, how're you doing?

"But Adonis was more of a son to Persephone!!"

uh, NO. Even the ancients saw them as a couple!!

"Artemis is a girlboss who hates her brother!"

*kicks open door* OUT!

"Orion's the only man Artemis ever loved!"

how dare you disrespect my boy in this way Apollo was the first man she ever loved and no one will be able to replace him how dare you-

-and how dare you disrespect Hippolytus in this way he did not die in the name of all aroace people to be disrespected like this smh

"Zeus's only quality is how he fucks around!"

look, I've joked about this before but I know that's not all there is too him and that it has a symbolic representation.

Sure would be nice if people focused on that more :)

also anything that villainizes Aphrodite or Hera. god forbid women do anything.

"Clytemnestra is a girlboss who did no wrong!"

OH MY GOD THE DOUBLE STANDARDS.

funny how people fawn over Cassandra one moment and then COMPLETELY FORGET HER EXISTENCE to becry the woman who murdered her!

AND ALSO GO OUT OF THEIR WAY TO HATE APOLLO FOR CURSING HER WHEN THEIR STORY IS LITERAL ABOUT A WOMAN'S AUTONOMY BEING RESPECTED!!

AND GUESS WHAT!! APOLLO AVENGES HER DEATH!!

anything that is "UwU Achilles!" omg i am sick of it.

that bitch had everything coming. he deserved everything he got. Tenes, Troilus, and Hemithea did NOT deserve what he did to them! APOLLO AND PARIS HAD EVERY RIGHT TO TAKE HIM DOWN!

i'm probably forgetting some but here's the one that popped into my head :)

[dottoreandcapitanosimp]

Apollo with Sadistic! Goddess! Reader. The Reader is actually Goddess of Deadliness, Danger, and Torment. Much Nyarlathotep(I’m not sure if you don’t know H.P. Lovecraft), Reader causes so much pain and suffering to mortals for fun. However, Zeus was protecting Apollo and attempting to keep him away from her.

OMG I LOVE THIS! Unfortunately I don't know LoveCraft! But maybe what if we add a reader who is an extreme Yandere to Apollo and on top of that, like Zeus didn't like Reader but Hera loved Reader and supported the marriage?

You and Apollo met at one of the great feasts of Olympus, with you being one of Hades' daughters with a nymph from the underworld (he wasn't yet married to Persephone when you were born). You were close to Artemis, after all you tortured any man who gave to do anything to her devotees and she usually helped you. While you were talking to Artemis, Apollo was just going to disturb his sister, but when he saw you he just had his mouth open and it looked like Eros had shot one of the arrows at him (poor Eros was blamed for this later as he was more busy pampering Psyche, after all they were newly married). Apollo simply fell madly in love within seconds.

Over the next few days, Artemis just couldn't take Apollo nagging her about you anymore, telling her how beautiful you were and stuff like that. Artemis then lost her patience and finally arranged a meeting between the two, after all, without Apollo's knowledge you were simply obsessed with him.

The meeting was something simple, in one of Apollo's temples you had tea while you talked, and if he wasn't in love with you enough before, now the whole of Olympus knew about his passion for you.

You lived mostly in the underworld , tormenting the poor souls who had been horrible in their lives, and if before Hermes almost never went to the underworld, the motorcycle courier from Olympus now knew the place like the back of his hand, after all Apollo and you exchanged small gifts and correspondence all day long. whole.

You were smart enough to know that if you wanted to have a chance of marrying Apollo, you needed Hera's blessing. One day while Zeus was once again cheating on Hera with some mortal, nymph or goddess, you came out of the underworld and went to talk to the Queen of Olympus (your future mother-in-law as you loved to call her). Hera simply adored you, because after all you were one of the goddesses who tortured men who cheated on their wives, and you were also one of the only goddesses who, although they did not have a vow of chastity, did not sleep with any man out of lust.

In less than two weeks, you and Apollo were already married, and that's when Zeus started to have a slight dislike for you.

Apollo used to be a copy of Zeus, having sex and flirting with anything that moved, but now the problem wasn't that he was faithful and in love, but rather how you did it. You threatened to leave Apollo, you would kill any supposed lover and mainly, you made him turn against anyone who doubted you (except Hera and Artemis, after all they basically never said anything about you because they both loved you). you.) once, Zeus just said that you should get used to Apollo cheating on you, and the next day Apollo was just furious with him, and that's when he started hating you.

HEADCANONS!

- Apollo loves you to bits, and although sometimes he knows he's being manipulated, he simply ignores it completely.

- Apollo's gifts range from jewelry to flowers to love letters.

- You spent two months on your honeymoon, and believe me, you two only stopped doing the act twice during these two months.

- Apollo doesn't stop talking about you for a second, and in the beginning it was even worse because Athena was already joining Ares to tell him to shut up. - Hades has the same hatred that Zeus has for you, but for Apollo, after all he finds him an insufferable playboy.

- You and Zeus sometimes have big arguments, in which you always play the victim, and while Apollo and Artemis blindly believe in you, Hera knows that you are lying but simply supports it.

Sorry if it wasn't as good as you thought! Please send me more ideas If you like It

[silverbirching]

So as some of you may know, I am... let's say an armchair-level amateur scholar of classical studies. @qqueenofhades can tell you how often she has to talk me down off the ledge of enrolling in an MFA program.

Like some of you, I was an insufferable twelve-year-old when Disney's Hercules came out, and all of my critiques of that film were down to "it doesn't do the mythology right".

Well, I've reached the point where I don't care about that shit anymore. Go nuts. Have fun with it. There are, however, some... History Tik-tok tumblr Bad Takes about Greek mythology that I have very little patience for. #Girlboss Persephone, for instance, or basically anything that insists on treating the Greek gods like people, whose behavior can be judged as more or less Problematic, rather than... symbols, archetypes, divinities.

I am happy to say that Kaos, while it obviously plays fast and loose with basically every element, captures the vibes of Olympus. The feels. Jeff Goldblum's intense, eccentric and fucking terrifying performance as Zeus, the flawless Janet McTeer as Hera, Cliff Curtis as Middle-Aged Jaded Slutty Maori Fuckboy Poseidon, David Thewlis' exhausted, depressive turn as Hades... all of it is GOLD. It has instantly become one of my new favorite adaptations. Like all good adaptations, it captures the flavor, the vibes, the FEEL of the original works.

Here's some of my other faves!

Gods Behaving Badly, by Marie Phillips - a goofy, fun little romp about the past-it and aging Gods of Olympus living together in a shitty house in London. A comedy, but it very accurately captures the essence of the vain, fickle, and usually stupid Greek Gods.

Circe, by Madeline Miller - I mean, I hope to God everyone has already read this one, Jesus Christ. Told from the first-person perspective of the Goddess-witch Circe, this book is an amazing re-imagining of one of the most maligned and studied characters in the Odyssey.

Hades 1 & 2. by Supergiant Games - I could write several thousand words about how much I love these games, which both revolve around the challenges of an immortal family that you literally cannot get away from -- and the way cycles of violence perpetuate themselves, even if the people involved CAN'T DIE. The depths of the scholarship on display there are frankly staggering, and they go DEEP into the esoterica -- Zagreus teasing Orpheus that he and Dionysus are the same person (which they almost certainly are, don't get me started on Orphism) springs to mind. Hell, the second game's protagonist is literally Melinoe. Also, Scylla is a boss fight and is the lead singer of a bratty girl group and sings a diss track about how your hair is a disaster. What's not to love.

... I do wish they hadn't made Kronos the God of Time. That shit drives me nuts. The words are cognate but not--he was an agricultural--ANYWAY.

Kaos is intense as hell, but it's fucking GREAT. And literally every frame is filled with Gays and people with different bodies and body types and various flavors of gender fuckery. It's great. Watch it.

[w4w4lycsss]

JAMES HOOK: DATING NATURE BOY HEADCANONS

summary: a list of headcanons that occurred to me while translating a request from Morgie pairing: James Hook x male!god of the spring!reader a/n: Maybe I'll make a standalone story out of this after Morgie's request

I hope you know the Hades x Persephone au, because you two are literally them

You're a child of nature who was raised by Demeter (Greek goddess of nature and crops, sister of Hades) so somehow you ended up at Merlin Academy

You have a sibling bond with Hades, you hung out with the VKs to be with him because you felt safe

Hook noticed you instantly and knew you were different

Your dark green hair pretending to be black, your skin too perfect to be a teenager, how you were always barefoot, your fascination with the outside world and how you seem to have a heart too kind to be related to Hades himself

He likes different

It was a real challenge to ask you out, Hades looked out for you at all times and gave him dirty looks when he got too close to you

He didn't give up

One day Hades and Maleficent went on a date, you were too bored with nothing to do

You started walking around the school yards aimlessly, not realizing that behind your steps you left a trail of small flowers

Hook noticed the trail that adorned almost the entire school until he found you sitting under a tree

It was a good opportunity for him

The sweet way you greeted him when he approached you stealthily melted his heart

You even wove him a flower crown while you told him about your day

If he stayed with you any longer he was going to die of love

He realized that you had a heart too sweet and a conscience too innocent for a pirate like him

Did he care? No, but now you knew how overprotective Demeter and Hades were of you

When it got dark and Hades and Maleficent came back from their date, you said goodbye to him and went to find them to give them a flower crown too

You even made one for Morgie and Uliana

It was a surprise that you got along with the ENTIRE VK group

One day Uliana wondered if you were a copy of Bridget, to which Hook and Hades (who knew you the most) couldn't help but laugh at how absurd that sounded

Hook came to your defense saying that while Bridget was naive with her kindness to everyone you knew who you should be with and who you shouldn't

He was right, Demeter hadn't raised a dumb child

Hades was becoming less paranoid about who you hung out with, even letting you and Hook spend entire afternoons without worrying

Every time you call him James and not Hook his heart will melt

I proclaim myself the creator of the headcanon Hook is obsessed with your thighs/legs (and has several fantasies about them) so don't doubt that he will put his hand on your thigh when you sit together in the dining room

At first you don't give it any importance because you think that his love language is physical contact and he is associated with that

The truth is that he does it when he notices that someone is looking at you too much

You two haven't even started dating yet!

He likes to run his hook over your thigh when you wear shorts in hot weather to see you laugh nervously

Hades gets angry when he does this

(He clearly doesn't care)

He made the first move, you were too shy to confess your love

He kissed you at your bedroom door when he walked you in one night

Now you two are boyfriends!

He treats you like a prince

(I'm obsessed with the idea of ​​Hook dating a prince)

How did Hades take it? Oh, he went crazy 🥰

I mean, it's obvious that he suspected it when he caught Hook looking at you like a love-struck fool a bunch of times, but he didn't expect you two to become a couple!

Hook sometimes forgets that Hades and you are gods

(You are more like an entity of nature but you have the power of a god)

Demeter (who was like your mother) had a hard time accepting Hook as your partner because he was a pirate until she saw the way he treated you and then accepted him better

PICNIC DATES. PICNIC DATES. PICNIC DATES.

You give him flower crowns every day and keep each one of them

(They are magic flowers, they do not wither)

I just want you to imagine a pirate's room, dark and full of threatening things but when you pay attention to the headboard of his bed it's full of flowers

I have a headcanon that shares a room with Morgie

A dark room with green lights would always have the curtains closed

The more light comes in, the more threatening it looks

And the flower crowns in one corner, obviously

[theglamorousferal]

Persephone's Binding Part 13

Hardcover/Anger Management ship Sacrificial Bride au

AO3 Prompt Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

"Raven said she can be here in an hour." Dick prompted as he read the message on his communicator. He was hanging upside down from a trapeze set up in the Batcave after having run through a routine to work out some frustration.

The cultists had been frustratingly vague, and the guy who could read it had bitten his own tongue to keep from talking. The leader had said something about gaining a boon from a king for sacrificing a powerful warrior who already had death magic associated with them. As Red Hood is a powerful crime lord and vigilante, he was considered a powerful warrior. They're still not sure how they would have found out he was death-touched though.

What does death-touched even mean? Dick thought. I'll have to ask Rae when she gets here.

"Any luck with the book Tim?" He yelled out to where Tim was downing yet another energy drink while trying to read the book they had acquired earlier. A grunt of frustration and the sound of an empty can hitting the side of the recycling bin was his only response.

Dick flipped himself down and went to read over his shoulder. At first, the letters seemed like gibberish with a few things here and there that looked familiar. Dick reached for the book from Tim's hands, who squawked in response, but gave the book anyway. He rubbed his eyes and squinted at the page, and slowly the words started to make sense.

"This ritual grants power to those-" The letters seemed to move as he tried to read. "The more powerful the sacrifice, the more power gained." It was like reading a language he knew only part of and was trying to make sense from context clues. "Only one of our kingdom may be given as sacrifice." He turned the page and it showed two blurry spheres seeming to merge with each other. "The sacrifice is bound for eternity to the ruler of our Realms." He couldn't make out the subject of the next sentence. "-power will become twofold as their souls are bound to each other."

"How did you manage to read that? I've been staring at it for the last hour!" Tim had his fingers buried in his own hair in frustration.

"I don't know, it's like the letters moved so I could read them. Not well mind you." He skimmed over the pages again. "I'm still missing words though."

"Ugh, whatever, I'm logging what you've read so far." Tim moved over to the Batcomputer and brought up a report file to start filling out.

Dick leafed through the book, not trying to read anything as he was starting to get a bit of a headache from it and just looked at the sketches and paintings in the book. One page had what appeared to be a seasonal calendar. It had two solstices and two equinoxes. There were different symbols for each, likely holidays wherever 'our kingdom' was. There were two other symbols on the line, one moving faster than the other.

The sound of the Zeta echoed throughout the 'Cave announcing Raven's arrival.

"Okay, lets see if we can bring him home. Let me see the book." Raven demanded as soon as she arrived, floating quickly to where Dick stood with the book.

He handed it over and she began reading, sitting crisscross in the air. A notepad and pen that were on the desk next to Tim floated over, surrounded by the black energy that indicated Raven's powers. The pen began taking notes as Raven read, and it seemed as though she actually could.

"You can read it no problem? I had issues with it and Tim couldn't read it at all." Dick asked. The pan paused and Raven herself froze and looked at him.

"You could read this?" Her eyes narrowed.

Dick swallowed. "Um, yeah? It was hard to do, and I missed some words, but I could read it."

"Richard Grayson, when did you die?" Raven growled out.

Dick's eyes went wide and he swallowed again. "Um, a while ago? It was brief, just my heart stopping to keep a bomb from going off, I was resuscitated immediately afterwards." He frantically told her.

"Hmm." Her eyes narrowed further into a proper glare. "We will be discussing this later."

"Why do you ask?"

She sighed. "Only people who are death-touched can read this book. It's in the language of the dead. I'm assuming since yours was brief it means you aren't fully fluent. I was gone for however long it was between me being sacrificed and you bringing me back, so I can read it fine."

"So death-touched means someone who has died and come back?" At his question she nodded. "How would the cultists have known that Jason was death-touched?"

"It's a low-level necromancy spell, easy enough to learn." She turned back to the book before closing it. "So, good news, he's not dead, or at least, he still exists." She glanced over her notes again. "Bad news, he's been wife-sacrificed to the King of Ghosts." She sighed. "Worse news, is it's extremely difficult to summon anyone from the Realms as most beings there are extra-dimensional. It's going to be next to impossible to summon him back."

[theriverbeyond]

THE ANTICAPITALIST MESSAGING IN HADESTOWN TOOK ME SO COMPLETELY BY SURPRISE IN SUCH A GOOD WAY AND I HAVEN'T SEEN ENOUGH PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT IT BECAUSE ITS SO GOOD AND IT WORKS WITH THEIR STORY SO WELL

YEAH EXACTLY Im like... is it all just so obvious everyone decided it's redundant to mention or??? HELLO???

And I was sitting in the audience as one does and Chant was actually the song that reframed the entire show for me -- up until then I was like "aw :') theyre falling in love and are doomed, I should google all these lyrics later" but that song just... I felt like I was being hit in the face w a fish, honestly!!

"In the coldest time of year/ Why is it so hot down here?/ Hotter than a crucible/ It ain't right and it ain't natural"

"In the darkest time of year/ Why is it so bright down here?/ Brighter than a carnival/ It ain't right and it ain't natural"

Persephone's lyrics here are so specific -> a "crucible" is an ancient tool that can be used to create art but also industrialized into mass production, a "carnival" something that is inherently about celebration and festivity and joy but it is also a thing that can be commercialized almost beyond recognition. Capitalism is ravenous and will never be satiafied or sated, it will steal & exploit every scrap of art and joy that it can, then corrupt it all into hollow immitations that it then sells back to you on websites like SHEIN and Disney+.

"It ain't right and it ain't natural" hits so hard in this song because nothing is as natural, or as "right", as death -- so obviously Persephone is NOT talking about the literal underworld to the literal god of the dead. She's talking about how we need to stay warm and safe and dry in the winter, but we don't need fresh summer fruits imported from thousands of miles away. We need to stay cool and safe and hydrated in the summer, but we don't need to steal water from another state to keep the golf courses green. The winter is natural, the cold is natural, seeking warmth and light is natural. What is unnatural is this overconsumption, this never ending, never satisfied hunger.

And then of course you have Hades' parts,

Here, I fashioned things of steel/ Oil drums and automobiles/ Then I kept that furnace fed/ With the fossils of the dead

And wasn't it electrifying/ When I made the neon shine!/ Silver screen, cathode ray/ Brighter than the light of day

And obviously "fossils of the dead" is a reference to Hades being the literal god of the dead, in the ground, in the underworld, and it is also a reference to the modern dependence on oil and fossil fuels, but TO ME it is also about how capitalism relies on the exploitation of workers. In this show, the "fossils of the dead" are literally Hades' subjects. They're the workers of his factory town, and he both exploits them and is fully dependent on them, just like how the furnance of industry/capitalism relies on YOUR body, YOUR labor, it eats you when you're alive and it often continues to eat you when you're dead.

And then like "wasn't it electrifying" -> it's EXCITING what technology and industry does, but the problem is the overconsumption and the overproduction ("Brighter than the light of day") beyond what anyone actually needs or even wants. It ain't right and it ain't natural!!!

Every year, it's getting worse/ Hadestown, hell on Earth!

And the wind is so strong/ That's why times are so hard/ It's because of the gods/ The gods have forgotten the song of their love

Lover, what have you become/ Coal cars and oil drums/ Warehouse walls and factory floors/ I don't know you anymore

And it all keeps building in this song, re-emphasizing that Hades is not who he once was, that he has changed. Which again is not only commentary about consumption vs overconsumption, and how so many things started as wonderful ideas that could save people and help people and help make the world better were corrupted and turned into profit machines, killing machines, etc. "The gods have forgotten the song of their love" UGH

I also think the Themes are magnified because this is presented extremely directly alongside Euridyce's growing desperation, especially with the context that Euridyce DOES, in fact, "sell out" to Hades' promises.

There is no food left to find/ It's hard enough to feed yourself/ Let alone somebody else

Desperation forces her hand, she turns to Hades because he offers salvation, and she ends up just another nameless worker turning the gears of his machine. And I feel this is so similar to how when rich people are like "Just do XYZ", or telling people to bootstrap, or selling quick fixes to desperate people, when the reality is they got where they did due to a combination of luck, pre-existing social/monetary capital, etc, and buying into their promises of wealth will only make them richer and you more dependent and vulnerable.

[oneforthemunny]

🧸, 🪺, 🔮

rockstar!eddie, baby/kid fic, vacation.

"I feel like I'm herding a bunch of fuckin' cats." Eddie muttered under his breath, reaching for Sicily who started to bound towards the door.

"What?" You frowned, nose crinkling in slight amusement at the phrase. "What does that mean?"

"Nothin'- Hey! Sienna Noelle, sit down." Eddie hissed over the squeals of laughter from the twins, who thought running away from Eddie was the most fun game in the world.

You bit back a smile, ducking to press a kiss to Zahra's head, the toddler lulling to sleep on your lap. It had been an exciting day after all, a trip to Disneyland. It was Eddie's idea, a sweet but chaotic one at that. He wanted the stereotypical trip to the "happiest place on earth" with his family- one the both of you never got to have.

The girls had been more than excited, seeing each of their favorite characters throughout the parks, riding the rides. Eddie had nearly thrown up on the tea cups, grimacing as Kensington and Persephone squealed with joy, twirling them as fast as they could.

Now, in the private room the VIP tour offered, everyone was exhausted, hungry, a little cranky. Except the twins, who napped in their strollers and were energized after a Mickey pretzel.

"Are we going back?" Persephone mumbled, eyes starting to droop the same way Eddie's did when he was tired, fighting sleep. "I wanna ride the Peter Pan ride again."

"We'll ride it again." You cooed, swaying Zahra on your lap. "It'll be a little later. We're going to eat, and then we'll head back to the hotel room for a little bit. Let everyone get some rest so we can watch the fireworks later."

"I don't wanna go back to the room." Kensington whined, knuckling at her eyes. "I wanna go see the Princesses again."

"You'll get to see them later, Kens." Eddie hummed. "We still have two days left. And you have dinner at the castle tomorrow."

Kensington perked at the mention, seemingly settled for now.

The walk back was quiet, even the twins nodding off in their stroller, Persephone on Eddie's hip as he pushed Zahra's stroller one handed. "You think they're having fun?" Eddie hummed, following the Disney escort to the monorail.

You grinned, looking down at the exhausted kids, who had spent hours before squealing and beaming with excitement. "Yeah, I think they're having a lot of fun." You giggled lightly. "Even Sephy."

"Yeah," Eddie snorted lightly. "She's loving that Haunted Mansion ride. We've been on it, like, four times today."

"She's so your kid." You clicked lightly, head shaking playfully at him. "But I did swing by the gift shop after the second time. Picked her up a little shirt with the ghosts on it. I figured she could wear it later."

"She'll love that." Eddie beamed, dimples creasing in his stubbled cheeks. There was a pause, a comfortable silence falling between the two of you.

"Are you having fun?" You asked, looking up at him carefully. "Everything you wanted it to be?"

"Are you kiddin' me?" Eddie scoffed lightly. "Havin' the time of my life, baby. Kids are having fun, we get VIP service, and get to see you in your little ears." He teased gently.

The infamous Mickey ears, a rite of passage you assumed. All the girls had gotten a pair, and Eddie had insisted you had some too. You rolled your eyes at him when he passed them to you, but he didn't miss the way you smiled- the way your features brightened with joy as the girls squealed that you matched them. There was something so healing about getting to do that with your babies, what you didn't have with your own parents.

[eras-mus]

I'M BACK BECAUSE YOU NEED ASK

So just, hear me out. M or GN!Reader that is biologically Hades and Maleficent son/child, Aurora is his little sister (he's in second year at NRC and Aurora in first year in a girl school).

How Platonic!Crowley, and any character’s you want, will react at the family days when they come to school for Reader ? (It's bad explained, i know.)

Ignore it if you don't want to write it.

Have a good day and night.

PS : The Alice Yuu was perfect.

Maleficent! ± Hades! Male! Reader

×You are Malleus's cousin

×Asra is your adopted sister and unknown to everyone, Silvers actual sister

×You and Idia are childhood friends (I don't think he's related to Hades, correct me if I'm wrong)

×You're not Yuu

×You're and third year Ignihyde student

Sorry I haven't been posting, I didn't have any motivation!

-

There were many things that were well known about Y/n, most people considered him an open book, but his family life stayed a mystery.

There were a few things that people could gather by just talking to him; his mom died, his dad remarried (Persephone), and he had known the shroud brothers for a long time.

The reason Y/n kept his family a secret was because he saw how people would avoid Malleus, leaving him alone and unwelcomed, but for some ungodly reason, nothing could be left a secret in this school.

Family day.

A day that Y/n had managed to avoid in the past thanks to either Idias hacking or a quick excuse that only makes sense because Crowley is an idiot.

But this year he forgot all about the dreaded day.

The day started as any other, he straightened out his uniform, found something to drink, and started making his way to the cafeteria.

But then he saw those gargoyles from the underworld waiting for him in the second he stepped out of his dorm mirror.

"He he- see I told you he'd be here if we waited long enough!" The shorter one spoke.

"Well, excuse me for hoping the boy had learned to get up earlier for once!" Panic shouted back.

"What are you two doing here?" Y/n asked, stunned.

"Well, we just missed ya and your horrible attitude soooo much!" Pain started. "NO! Its family day dumb-fuck."

"Does that mean dads here!"

"Of course, he is, he wasn't going to miss is first AND only chance to see you at your school." The taller one said in a tone most wouldn't dare have with the son of a god.

"FUCK! I gotta go!"

And just like that, the teenager was off like his head was going to be cut off.

"Not even a 'How are you?' or 'How's the Underworld?' Typical."

The cafeteria was filled with people in awe of one of the most recognizable people in the world. No one had the nerve to approach him as he tried to find his son and instead just circled around him, entranced by his existence.

"Have any of you seen my son?" The god asked the crowd, "He's about this tall, Ingihyde, of course, and always half asleep."

"Uncle! So good to see you." A familiar pair of horns made its way through the crowd.

"Ah, Malleus, have you seen Y/n? It appears no one else here as." Hades asked as he brought the younger boy in for a hug.

Malleus chuckled, "Unfortunately, not today, he normally sleeps in quite late."

"I assume he got that habit from that Shroud boy?"

"Probably."

"DAD!"

Everyone turned to see the boy whose father left everyone so stunned and audible gasps were heard as students quickly realized the similarities between their magic.

"Y/n! My boy! How have you been? Have you finally made some new friends?"

"What do you mean new friends! I have plenty of friends-"

"Name three other than Idia and Ortho."

"Well, there's Silver, and..." He thought for a moment "Well how have you been?"

"Well busy with the Underworld and ACTUAL responsibilities, unlike Zeus and the other gods."

"Yeah, yeah, let's go talk about that outside." Y/n said trying to rush his dad outside.

As they entered the courtyard Y/n noticed Deuce showing his mom around and Ace getting bullied by his brother. As Hades rambled on to his son about how unfair his job was Crowely took notice of the god and quickly made his way over in hope of some positive publicity.

"Y/n! I'm so happy to see you and your father enjoying yourselves!"

"Well, everything would be perfect but we're waiting on a couple more people." Hades started. "Do you think you could tell them where we are?"

"Who else did you invite!?" Y/n could already feel the eyebags start to form under his eyes as he wished he'd stayed in bed.

"Asra and Persephone!" Hades smiled.

"Stay here I'll go find them."

"Stay here and do what? I'll be bored out of my mind."

"Talk to Crowley or something! I don't care, just stay here!"

Y/n made his way back to the Ingihyde dorm, if he was going to do this, he was going to make Idia suffer with him.

"Get your ass up! It's family day!" The boy just barged into the others dorm, as he often did.

"What does that have to do with me!?"

After a couple minutes of arguing, Idia was now walking close behind Y/n with his tablet in hand. The loud environment was Idias worst nightmare, and he will never know how he was talked into this.

"Y/N!"

That was all the two heard before said boy was tackled to the ground by a familiar head of long white hair. A few looks a shock were shot their way making Idia jump.

"Asra! GET OFF OF ME!"

"So whiney!" She stuck her togue out. "Are you mad cause I interrupted your time with you boyfriend!"

Once again Idia jumped from something the girl did. This has been an ongoing joke that was only funny to one girl and very annoying to the brother and his friend.

"He wishes!" Y/n said, shoving his sister lightly.

"Now kids," a voice so graceful that it could only belong to one person spoke. "We're in public, act like it."

Soon the four made it back to the courtyard where Malleus, Pain, and Panic had joined Hades and Crowley.

"So, you started the Gargoyle club in our honor, right?" Panic asked, nudging Malleus.

Malleus laughed in response, "No but you two did he with my interest in gargoyles."

As soon as the four joined the crowed Crowely insisted he get a picture.

"It will be perfect for the school Magicam! Now say 'family!'"