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moltengoldveins · 3 months ago

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@clingyduoapologist made a really cool “what if DSMP were a stage play” post and basically the instant I saw it I was struck by the muse but I don’t want to just chain reblog the dang thing or make one huge reblog with all my thoughts so instead here are all my thoughts on this concept

i don’t think it’s a musical. I think the tone of the story doesn’t fit. But if it were, it would have a Lot of scenes of unsung dialogue, and that dialoge? Would be rhythmic poetry. It’s Shakespeare Appreciation Time baby.

i do however think there would be a live score and an orchestra. A lot of the music would need to be recorded but there’s at least be a few musicians.

different characters speak in different poetic styles at different times to communicate character and plot development.

to elaborate on that: Characters switch from loose ABBA or ABAB rhyme schemes and vaguely rhythmic meter when chatting back and forth to strict perfect iambic pentameter for tense scenes or political speeches.

Techno speaks exclusively in unrhyming dactylic hexameter, an extremely common poetic form for Greek and Latin poetry. It’s what the Iliad was written in. This has the interesting effect of making Techno sound, at first glance, unpoetic. His speech doesn’t rhyme, and doesn’t follow a common English rhythm scheme, so it wouldn’t immediately register as structured. However, dactylic hexameter is actually significantly harder to write in English than expected because of our syllable stress patterns. Speaking like that would be, objectively, a sign of extreme intelligence, but could easily be overlooked as coarse uncultured behavior.

Techno’s chorus - composed of audience members, background extras, and people (in safety harnesses) sitting in the theater rafters - speak largely in Greek and Classical Chinese, quoting sections of the Art of War and Homer’s work. The major exceptions to this are ‘Blood for the Blood god,’ ‘no,’ and ‘do it.’ They all wear a hat or some form of headband that has a glowing LED eye, hidden, but activated when they speak. The audience plants are all in dark clothes, and when the lights go down they don medical masks/sunglasses. Anything to obscure their faces.

The Chorus, a group of robed masked people who broke the fourth wall and often entered the audience, was a vital part of early Greek theatre. I am an intolerable nerd, and the thought of sitting in a dark theatre only to hear an low distorted voice beside you start to comment on the play as a whole choir of voices echo around you, then turning to see your seat neighbor is a masked person with a glowing red eye in your forehead? Literally incredible.

Dream is the only character dressed in even remotely modern clothes.

Dream is first seen as someone (again, in modern clothes) sneaking around backstage in a black hoodie: most of the audience probably assumes he’s a stagehand and not meant to be seen. Then, at some point, he moves from behind a set piece and enters the scene as an actual character, revealing his mask.

interestingly, this is really similar to what I believe is a bit of myth about why ninjas are dressed in all black in modern media. They wouldn’t have been irl, they would’ve dressed like civilians. But stagehands in Japanese theatre would dress in all-black, and were often completely visible onstage moving sets - it was common courtesy to ignore them. Then one day some playwright had the brilliant idea of having one of the stagehands enter the story as an assassin, and suddenly every actor in all-black was a threat. For the life of me I can’t remember where I read that but it’s a cool thought :D

Dream canonically can interact with set pieces, lighting, and curtains.

Dream actively directs lighting in scenes he is not in, sitting above the stage kicking his feet.

Dream is often used to hand off props to characters instead of having them pull them from a pocket and pretend they were pulled from their ‘inventory.’ This begins to get confusing when Dream is acknowledged later on as the he person giving, say, TNT to Wilbur, or wither skulls to Techno.

characters address the audience as ‘Chat,’ (English’s first fourth-person pronoun my beloved) almost constantly, especially for comedic purposes- most of their monologues are addressed directly to the audience as well. For Wilbur, it’s a sign of instability when he stops addressing ‘Chat’ and start addressing the sides or back of the stage.

philza enters from the lower audience, right by the stage, probably after pooping up from the orchestra pit and taking a reserved seat halfway through so no one sees the wings.

Tommy has by far the least structured or rhyming dialogue - if it weren’t for how carefully crafted it was it would sound like normal prose.

Tommy speaks to the audience by FAR the most. Wilbur only addresses them when soliloquizing. Techno barely addresses them at all: they address him. Ranboo speaks to the audience only when alone, and it’s usually phrased like he’s writing in his memory journal. Tommy speaks to the audience at first like a loud younger brother. As he gets older, it sounds more and more like a plea for help, a prayer for intervention that will never come. Exile is one long string of desperate begging aimed our way.

Tommy stops speaking to the audience so much after Doomsday. He starts again when Dream is imprisoned. He stops for good when he dies in there, beaten, alone.

Sam and the Warden are meant to be played by different actors, ideally siblings or fraternal twins. They wear identical stage makeup and costumes, but the difference is there. None of the characters acknowledge this.

the Stage would need to be absolutely massive and curve almost halfway around the central audience, largely because it should be able to be split at times into two separate stages to show different things happening at the same time. This could possibly also work if there were two stages, but getting people to easily turn from one stage to the other without loosing sight of what was happening would be rough.

Doomsday taking advantage of the scaffolding in the rafters and using them as the ‘grid’ for the tnt droppers.

actual trained dogs for Doomsday my beloved. Would cost a fortune but could you imagine.

the entire revolution arc ripped off Hamilton, we all know that, I think we can afford to have a stagehand step forward in that frozen moment in time when Tommy and Dream have that duel, grab the arrow, and carry it slowly across the stage right into Tommy’s eye. For morale.

throughout the execution scene Techno keeps slipping out of poetic meter, especially when he sees/is worried about Phil. After the totem (which would be freaking amazing as some sort of stage effect with like lights and red and green streamers or smthn dude-) he stops speaking in poetry. The scene with Quackity is entirely spoken dialogue. Chat is silent. It’s only when he gets back and sees evidence that his house has been tampered with that Chat starts up again (kill, blood, death, hunt, hunt, hunt-) and he starts speaking in rhythm again.

Every canon death, Dream marks a tally on something in the background. Maybe it’s in his arm? Like a personal scorecard. Or maybe it’s on the person themselves, a little set of three hearts he marks through with a dry-erase marker or something.

phil and techno have a lot more eastern design elements and musical influences than the rest of the cast, except for Techno’s war theme which is just choir, bagpipes, and some sort of rhythmic ticking or thumping. Phil’s also got a choir sting but it’s a lot harsher, the ladies are higher and them men lower, and the chords are really dissonant (think murder of crows)

Tommy’s theme has a lot of drums, but its core is actually a piano melody. The inverse of Tommy’s theme is Tubbo’s, but Tubbo’s is usually played on a ukulele. Wilbur is guitar, obv, and Niki’s is on viola.

Quackity is a little saxophone lick. He and Schlatt both have a strong big band/jazz influence.

None of the instruments that play dream’s theme play anywhere else in the music. I’m thinking harp, music box, and some kind of low wind instrument.

#I have more thoughts but apparently there’s a character limit on lists or smthn it wouldn’t post if it were longer :/#molten rambles #technoblade #mcyt #philza #dsmp #theatre #musical theatre #Shakespeare mention #tommyinnit #dream #wilbur soot #dream smp

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jeannereames · 3 months ago

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do we have any idea of what hephaistion actually looked like??

Hephaistion’s Image

I finally have access to my books again, so tackling this much-delayed query. The short answer, unfortunately, is…

We haven’t got a bloody clue what he looked like.

Curtius tells us he was larger in physique/taller than Alexander, and nice-looking (3.12.16), but in a manly way (7.9.19). Lysippos and Philon both made portraits of him, and Aetion painted him into his “Marriage of Alexander and Roxane.” After his death, other Hetairoi at court commissioned portraits of him to please Alexander. None of these images survive.*

We have just ONE named statue of him, originally from Pella, now in the Thessaloniki Museum (photo mine). Even though it’s labeled, it’s a generic image. It’s not what he looked like. All other statues called “Hephaistion” are guesswork.

The difficulty with ancient portraiture is that, too often, busts/statues don’t come down to us labeled. If enough do, we can create a “portraiture tradition,” which means certain distinguishing features became standardized across (virtually) all images, allowing us to identify an individual. Then we can look at unlabeled statues/busts and say, “Yeah, that’s ___.” **

Another problem is the tendency for Greek sculptors to make shit up. Recall that at certain points in history, portraiture didn’t exist. Nobody making busts of, say, Homer knew what he’d looked like. All those statues labeled “Homer”? That’s just what later sculptors thought he ought to have looked like, down to the closed “blind” eyes. Folks, we’re not even sure Homer was blind! This mythologizing is related to another tendency in Greek sculpture called “idealizing.”

So, some quick art-history terminology … we have three basic ways of talking about people in ancient sculpture: idealized (and mythologized), a portrait, and a likeness. The latter two are not the same. A portrait means a recognizable person (those standardized features), but it may differ according to workshop style or be partly idealized. (The Akropolis head of Alexander below is partly idealized; it’s Alexander “prettied-up.”) By contrast a likeness looks like the person, warts and all. Portraiture was FAR more popular. It’s no different from the various filters you can apply to photos today before posting them on social media. A likeness is the plain image the camera takes before you “fix” it.

By the Archaic period into Classical Greece, we see a drive towards accuracy in anatomy, but aiming for what they considered physical perfection. They’d use Olympic (or other contest) victors to model (male) bodies, and the face would be a generic ideal young man (ephebe). This will be oval with smooth cheeks, a round chin, straight nose, small bow mouth and high, smooth forehead with level, almond eyes. The hair is tightly coiled and close to the skull.

This ideal ephebe is the ancient version of a male model. If you walk around the National Museum in Athens, you’ll see dozens of faces just like it, especially on the gods. Btw, it wouldn’t photograph that well—features aren’t sharp enough—which is why our modern canons of beauty have morphed a bit.

Art historians (or even just those of us who’ve spent decades looking at these statues) are decent at picking out these “generic” faces. I’m giving you a few below, so you can see. The first is Hermes, the second the Marathon boy, and the third is the Getty head of “Hephaistion.” This is why we say that’s not a portrait.+

Now, go back and look at the image of “Hephaistion” on the dedication bas-relief above. You’ll see why we say it’s generic ephebe-style. To understand why, it’s important to know how these stone-carving workshops operated.

It takes time to make these. So, if you want a tombstone or dedicatory plaque, you don’t walk in and order one from scratch to be delivered next week … or even next month. For something wholly original, it takes months, and you’re expected to pay accordingly. Only the very wealthy can afford individualized portraits or statue groups. By very wealthy I don’t mean the ancient equivalent of “He drives a jaguar and lives in a gated community.” I mean the ancient equivalent of “He has chauffeurs and lives on ten acres with private security.” See the difference?

Workshops kept a stock of pre-cut stones for shoppers to choose from. These were what most people purchased. A nice, high-end figured gravestone is still one of these standard images. They’d have them for hoplites, young mothers, girls, teen boys, etc. etc. So also with dedicatory plaques (as ours for Hephaistion). These also had certain typical elements, like a horse (recalling Hero the Horseman, a common figure in Thracian and Macedonian art), or the pattela plate in the woman’s hand for an offering, etc. Buyers would visit a workshop to see what they could afford. It would then be personalized with an inscription. Only the wealthiest could afford to personalize an image.

Our dedicatory statue (SEG 40: 547) has an inscription that reads, “Diogenes, to the Hero Hephaistion.” That’s kind of short, suggesting the purchaser didn’t have oodles to spend. I find two other things interesting on this statue, other than the quality, which is good if not super-exceptional. First, I note that the spelling of his name is Attic, not Doric. I explain why this matters in my article “Becoming Macedonian.” The other interesting thing is the fact the dedication comes from a man…but it’s a woman on the statue making an offering. Maybe this is meant to be Diogenes’s wife or mother, but it’s one reason I think it a pre-made statue. If it were personalized, we’d see Diogenes, not Ye Generic Matron.

Another clue is the date: between 330-320, but it MUST be on the lower end as Hephaistion died late in 324 and wasn’t declared a hero until just before Alexander’s own death in mid-323. Assume travel time for news to spread and we’re looking at very late 323/early 322 or later (the dating of the stone could be off a bit). Nor was Hephaistion standing there as a model. Ergo, the purchaser chose a generic ephebe.++ And no, we have no idea who Diogenes was. Not the cynic philosopher (who died in 323 in Corinth, around the same date as Alexander, supposedly).

So, we’ve no statue we can securely call Hephaistion that’s even a portrait, never mind a likeness.

A few other statues are commonly tagged “Hephaistion,” one from Kyme (top) and another from Alexandria (bottom). Both are paired with an Alexander, but the faces of the two Hephaistions don’t look alike. One (Kyme) has a long face, big nose, very down-slanted brows, and small flat ears; the other (Alexandria) has a small nose, oval face, even eyes, and big flaring ears. If you look at the Alexander found with each, you can detect the workshop styles, and if the Alexanders do show identifying features associated with his portraiture, the Hephaistions do not. In fact, the Alexandrian statue is sometimes labeled “Demetrio,” as its identification is disputed.

Just pairing a statue with Alexander does not an Hephaistion make. 😉

The Alexander Sarcophagus from Sidon presents a different sort of problem. The middle male figure on horseback on the long-side battle scene, and the figure on horseback behind the lion on the other long side have both been identified as Hephaistion. But that identification depends on the sarcophagus belonging to Abdalonymus, who, according to some stories, got his position as King of Sidon from Hephaistion. The Alexanders on the sarcophagus are easy to spot, but off to the side. A Persian figure is centered, as is this other Greek male. If it IS Abdalonymus’s sarcophagus, Hephaistion would be a good guess. But Mardonius has also been reasonably proposed as the sarcophagus owner, in which case, that’s probably not Hephaistion.

Alexander Sarcophagus, long side B, a lion hunt, a naked Greek and Alexander on horseback, Istanbul Archaeology Museum

flickr

Even if it is Hephaistion…we have the same problem. It’s a very generic ephebe face. (It would have been made years after Hephaistion was in Sidon, btw.)

A few other images out there have been proposed, but largely argued down. I still like the oversized bronze head from the Prado Museum. It’s more clearly somebody’s portrait, and it’s the one I had in mind when I went looking for a model for the (old, original) cover of Dancing with the Lion. But it’s been more securely tagged as Demetrios Poliorketes. One big problem is that, not only is it unlabeled, we don’t even know where it was found. A number of statues are purchased in the back allies of Istanbul or Thessaloniki or Rome or… (you get the idea).

I’ll address a final image that’s been more recently proposed: the non-Alexander figure (below, left) in the stag-hunt mosaic from the House of the Abduction of Helen, in Pella. It’s possibly from the same workshop as the lion-hunt mosaic from the House of Dionysos (second below). That lion-hunt mosaic is Alexander and Krateros, which identification is about 95% secure. Why? We’re told about a bronze group dedicated at Delphi that’s this very scene, completed by Krateros’s son for his father in honor of a specific event from Alexander’s campaigns. Copies of a famous work made in other mediums are remarkably common. In fact, I’d bet the “House of Dionysos” in Pella belonged to Krateros the younger, or that family anyway. It dates to exactly the right period.

Now, the stag-hunt mosaic is in a different house, but there are links in style between the two Alexanders (e.g., the petasos). The non-Alexander figures kinda resemble each other, but less clearly. (No, the axe in left stag-hunt guy's hand is not associated with Hephaistos. It is associated with a Thracian god, Zalmoxis.) Is stag-hunt guy a second Krateros? More likely it’s meant to be the owner of the house. Given their placement and size, those houses would have belonged to Very Important People. E.g., Hetairoi families. And everybody wanted a piece of the king—like taking a selfie with celebrities today.

Once more, just because Alexander appears with another person in a group, you cannot leap to the conclusion that person is Hephaistion.

So, that’s a fast survey of images tagged “Hephaistion,” and why I say none of them shows us what he may actually have looked like.

This took a while to assemble everything.

(For more information on some [not all] of these, see Andrew Stewart, Faces of Power: Alexander’s Image and Hellenistic Politics, U-Cal Press, Berkeley, 1993, 453-55.)

————

* The painting today called “The Wedding of Alexander and Roxane” by Sodoma in the Roman Villa Farnesina is a much, much later (1517 CE) re-imagining of what Aetion’s painting may have looked like. The ancient painting is long gone.

** For Alexander, his portraiture includes the anastole (cowlick), round chin, heavy brow, strong nose, “melting” gaze, and (often) tilted head and longer-than-average wavy hair like a lion’s mane. I can spot an Alexander anywhere. Ha. I was once in the Capitoline Museum, just idling along, when way down the aisle I spotted him, over 50 yards away. It was a heavy, Romanized style, but it was Alexander!

+ Both heads (his and Alexander) are forgeries anyway. Forgeries are BIG business in antiquities. Needless to say, museums don’t like to admit when they’ve bought a forgery, so you’ll next-to-never see one labeled as such. Gotta read the art history assessments to find out. If museums are convinced, they usually just quietly remove it.

++ Sometimes people ask me why one of these idealized ephebes couldn’t be what Hephaistion did look like, as he was supposed to be attractive? Well, it’s possible, but even very pretty people who we can tag as a portrait — I give you Antonoös — have distinguishing features. You can tell an Antinoös from a generic ephebe. Also, we have enough labeled portraits of Antinoös to create a portraiture tradition. We don’t have that with Hephaistion. So even if some generic statue currently labeled an ephebe were to be Hephaistion, we have zero way to know.

#Hephaistion #Hephaestion #Hephaistion in art #Hephaestion in art #Alexander the Great #Art history and Alexander the Great #idealization in Greek art #Classics #Classical art history #Alexander the Great's image #ephebes in Greek art #ancient portraiture #ancient greece #alexander x hephaestion #tagamemnon #asks

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serpentarius · 8 months ago

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“Do you know the story of Scylla and Charybdis, Daniel?”

Daniel scoffs. “'Course. Any writer worth his salt knows Homer.”

Armand gives him an expectant nod.

The human sighs. “Odysseus faced Scylla and Charybdis on his way home," he continues. "Scylla’s the multi-headed demon, and Charybdis - y'know, the whirlpool, or whatever."

The vampire hums. “And what is your interpretation of the story?”

Daniel simply shrugs. But a glint of excitement flickers in his eyes. "I mean. There’s the obvious, ‘lesser of two evils’ thing everyone takes away from it. But it ain't just about picking your poison, you know? It's about - I dunno, the messiness of life choices."

As he speaks, Daniel's voice gains a subtle enthusiasm, betraying his initial feigned indifference. "It's like, you're not just flipping a coin and hoping for the best. You gotta dive deep into the consequences, face 'em head-on with some guts and smarts. And you can’t just pat yourself on the back for dodging the bigger disaster, either. I mean, he still lost guys, right, so he has to own up to the fallout. Wade through it with some goddamn backbone. There's gotta be a lesson learned from the whole ordeal. Otherwise he's setting himself up for more trouble down the line."

"That's all well and good," Armand retorts. "But survival is the thing that matters most, in the end. Sometimes there's no time for overthinking or philosophical musings. You've got to act swiftly, to prioritize pragmatism over philosophy, in order to get out alive. So, Daniel, I ask you - who do you think is the lesser evil?"

"Between a man-eating monster and a ship-eating vortex?" Daniel huffs. "Odysseus chose the monster. I choose the monster."

Armand shakes his head disapprovingly. "A naïve decision. But then again, you are just a naïve boy."

Daniel bristles. His agitation is evident when he spits out, “Don’t fucking belittle me. You're probably just saying that because I'm actually making some good points, and you don't like being outsmarted.” He presses on, “Odysseus only lost six men that way. They all would’ve died in the whirlpool.”

Armand meets Daniel's gaze evenly. "Odysseus was selfish. He only opted out of the whirlpool due to self-serving motives. There was a chance, however slim, that they might have survived it. But by choosing the monster, he risked the lives of his men for his own gain."

"It wasn't selfish if the odds were stacked against them!" Daniel argues. "You can't convince me it wasn't the best option they had. 'Prioritize pragmatism over philosophy', eh? What a fucking joke, coming from you."

Armand stands firm. "He should have gambled everything for a chance at survival," he asserts, his eyes fixed on Daniel's now. Despite Daniel's defiant posture, Armand can see the telltale signs of uncertainty flickering on his face; the creases on his forehead, the slight dilation of his pupils. It betrays his wavering resolve. "You should know by now, Daniel, that the watery abyss may spare you its grasp…”

He makes his way towards the door. Daniel's gaze follows, helplessly reverent.

“But the predator of men knows no mercy.”

as long as I find you interesting (I won’t kill you)

#armand x daniel #armandaniel #daniel molloy #armand the vampire #snippet #my writing #my fics #will be included in “as long as I find you interesting” chapter 4 #yes I am working on it #and yes I will try and get it published before s2 airs #devil's minion #all the season 2 promo has me fucked up #amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #amc interview with the vampire

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dootznbootz · 11 months ago

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Greetings, my dear Mads.

Would you be ever so generous and talk about your headcanons about Menelaus & Polites' relationship with Odysseus?

*cracks knuckles*

I think I should preface this and say that I'm ace/demisexual and that affects...everything. Both of these relationships are basically very deep connections/friendships that help keep them sane. Forehead kisses, snuggles, just affectionate. (which I have Odysseus VERY strange with. He's very hot and cold. He's extremely affectionate with his family but Menelaus and Polites' are basically the only two whom Odysseus will not glare at if they put their hand on Odysseus' shoulder)

I'll do Odysseus and Polites first as they're shorter.

Mostly takes place during the Odyssey. And these two are friends. During the year at Circe's...yeah, Odysseus cries on Polites' shoulder multiple times. I have a plan for Circe's thing but that's darker and... YEAH. 🥺 Someday I will write it but yeah. Odysseus is NOT well. Nightmares...other thingsksdljf ds

I have many thoughts on the relationship that Odysseus and Menelaus have. I really love having vulnerable human moments and seeing the potential of Odysseus and Menelaus? GOLD MINE!

I think it's because they're kind of opposites yet UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER. Odysseus is a chatterbox and Menelaus is a man of few words. Menelaus is very honorable most of the time while Odysseus is...Odysseus. Odysseus tells stories while Menelaus gets straight to the point. They've been friends for a long time (They literally are each other's wingmen for my fics during the suitors of Helen. And Odysseus loves Menelaus' hugs.)

Odysseus is kind of a dick to EVERYONE during the Trojan war and that is a lot of the "I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE!!! I WANT TO GO HOME!! I MISS MY WIFE AND SON!!!" so he's an ass.

But with Menelaus? He can't be mad. BECAUSE THEY BOTH GET IT. They miss their wives. They miss their kids. And Odysseus is just like, "I can't be mad at you...I know that if it had been Penelope kidnapped, I would have done the same...Wanna go cry together?🥺"

They oftentimes will just...visit each other for a good cry. Holding each other and letting the other ramble about whatever they need. Resting foreheads together. Doing each other's hair. Simply CHILLING! THEY UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER EVEN THOUGH THEY'RE OPPOSITES 😭

Also I have this stupid image in my head that's like a crackfic

Rando: "Hey, How come Odysseus has never stolen from you/stabbed you/insulted you/set your stuff on fire?" Menelaus: "Odysseus? Him?! No! He's a trickster, yes. But he's not a bad man! I'd trust him with my life!" Odysseus: "Yeah! I'm such a fucking sweetheart!" *Someone's tent bursts into flames behind him, from Olive Oil Odysseus purposely set up to light shit on fire*

Idk if I'll get the chance to write this fic idea but I want it to be after Odysseus steals the Palladium. He's alone with Menelaus and "Hey...I saw Helen...She still loves you and she misses you... She says she's sorry."

And Poor Menelaus just breaks. He wants to know everything that happened. And Odysseus answers. Odysseus just holds him while he cries. Probably starts tearing up himself. And just fall asleep together. This has happened multiple times. They can be VULNERABLE with each other!!! Menelaus is one of the few men Odysseus wouldn't steal from or kill in his sleep! Plus it's canon that Menelaus gives the best hugs (I asked Homer. He told me. shush!)

Just....??? AAAAAAAAAAAA

I LOVE THEM!!!! THey are so soft while still being warriors and kings because they're mortal MEN. Who have so many feelings inside them both (especially during Trojan war) I LOVE IT!!!1ksldjf

#I am gently holding them #I also made that whole “Helen and Odysseus are similar” post and I think that HEAVILY influences my love for these two #There's! Just! So! Much! To! EXPLORE!!!!!!!#OdyPen are both chaos and are little shits and are LIKEMINDED. Menelaus gives Odysseus someone that makes him FUCKING CALMDOWN #Mad rambles #shot by odysseus #THIS IS WHY I FEEL LIKE I SHOULD HAVE A SIDEBLOG >:(#ask #gotstabbedbyapen #menody

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mudandmire · 6 months ago

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Free Day

Azris Week - Day Four: Free Day

~~~ Welcome to @azrisweek day four! Today's a free day so we are surfing off of 🌟vibes🌟. I l o v e d writing this, I had no idea where it was going to go I just knew the vibes I wanted throughout. I hope I managed to convey the feeling through it, though! Like, I dunno, it was just really fun to write about consumed-with-rage Azriel. As always, hope you enjoy!! :D ~~~

“His descent was like nightfall.” — Homer, The Iliad.

Descent

What’s left, after everything fades? Once, Azriel would have thought wisdom—perhaps even kindness if he learned it well enough.

Now, the truth stares at him; full and unblinking as the smudged halo of the setting sun that glares down at him in shame.

Wrath is all that remains.

The kind that hunts and cleaves and burns.

It drives him—drumming, drumming, drumming through his blood. Past the rhythmic chant of his lungs, the silent but narrowed frame of his mind that has all but erased every physical aspect that does not impair him—or his target.

Sweat beads along his hairline, the feathered strands of his raven hair sticking to his forehead. He can feel it sluice down the slopes of his face, unimpeded by a helmet. Drops whip off his cheeks, chased by the wind that lashes against him as he runs, sprints forward in a wild, endless chase for the one thing, the only thing, that might satiate his rage.

If blood will whet his appetite, let the cups run over with it.

Azriel has been hunting since the sun was just brushing the tips of the forest. The strong scent of eucalyptus and black gum heavy in the sticky air as he follows after the solider. Now, the sun is just cresting the hazy line of the horizon in the distance—it’s been hours, yet neither one tires or falters. Azriel can feel the sweat soaking through the cotton fabric of his wrapped clothes, making the leather plates of his armor stick to him that much more.

The soldier twists right, artfully dodging the branches of a gnarled shrub, his leap over a fallen log that of a gazelle. Grace follows in his footsteps, a loyal shadow that turns and bounces along with him. Azriel barrels through; hungry and hot, he barely registers the scrape of thorned branches against his biceps.

He hasn’t shown his face. At their first conflict, standing up to each other in the dust and dirt, watching it settle from it’s cloud onto the shiny, silver armor of his enemy, Azriel had been faced with the grated slats of a helmet. The voice that came from inside it was muddled and tinny—like it was coming from behind a wall.

Through the thick brush, the tall-stemmed, grey bark trees, Azriel finds that he won’t have much time—or breath—to be speaking anyway.

The soldier pivots again, the setting sun glinting off the shoulder pauldron—Azriel cuts his own track off to follow in each footstep. His chest heaves, every breath coming with effort now, but his pace does not falter, nor does his narrowed, bestial vision even when sweat slips down his brow and into his eye.

He’s getting close—can feel it in the tremor of the earth beneath his feet, the heavy pause in the thick summer air like it might hold it’s breath.

Azriel hunts; looking for an opening. The hound chasing the fox, the hawk and the sparrow, the trout and the minnow. Nature had ordained Azriel with the warm blood in his veins and the interminable, unflinching ability to pursue.

What a mistake it’s made.

Sure enough, Azriel’s prey makes a mistake. A hitch in the lungs, an unsteady landing, the slightest wobble of his leg and Azriel takes it and lunges.

The two bodies collide with a crack, bone bruising against bone. A muffled, startled shout rips from behind the helmet and Azriel snarls. They remain a collection of limbs and the armored press of their iron and silver. Weapons aren’t needed, not in this tussle in the dirt. Dust rising in great clouds, the red padded doublet the soldier wears tarnished and ripped where Azriel has struck and clawed with his hands.

He wants flesh under his fingers. To feel the delicacy of the stuttered, racing pulse under his palm and how it panics when he starts to squeeze.

The soldier fights back where he can; harried cries of distress rising from deep in his chest, his arms folded out in front of him to block Azriel’s incoming strike.

His squirming—a gnat in a web—knocks his helmet loose. Just enough so it slips up to his chin. The pale, freckled stretch of his neck bare to the wrathful, animalistic gaze of the male on top of him.

Azriel freezes with one hand fisted at the cuff of his chest plate, keeping him pinned to the earth, the other raised to strike. He hadn’t planned where, yet, he just needed to feel something crunch.

There’s a familiarity in the hollow place where the males collar bones meet—slick with sweat and heaving with the effort of his life giving breaths. Azriel traces it with his eyes, lips twisting into a frown from where he had bared them in a snarl.

The freckles—they catch his eye. It can’t be, he knows, keeping his hand pressed firmly to the soldiers chest, he tucks his other one under the lip of the helmet and tries not to hope.

He’s scrambling to collect the shreds of his rage, those delicate little pieces where if enough pressure is applied mold into the familiar, despised shape of his grief.

It can’t be. Hope is entirely foolish, so is fear. Yet he finds himself fluctuating through both as his heart pounds a different medley against his sternum.

It can’t be. It’s been a year.

Azriel’s hands begin to shake where he holds the helmet, features crumpled.

The shade of Eris’s eyes hasn’t changed. The ring around the pupil still that warm, amber glow of the embers of a fire.

The helmet drops, thuds dully against the ground and Azriel doesn’t care enough to look. Eris’s eyes may not have changed, but they look up at him now with a latent fear pressed deep into their depths. The kind only Azriel knew how to read once, and the sight of it nearly kills him if his shame and grief didn’t get to him first.

He falls back on his knees, entirely limp, watching Eris scramble away from him.

Azriel mouths his name. His tongue curling around the silent declaration fondly.

“Eris.” His voice breaks halfway through, hands fallen open on his thighs. “Eris.” He says again—a prayer, a plea, a repentance. Possibly he says it just to remember how it sounds after not hearing it for so long.

A thief in the night, his wrath steals away. After breaking him like an axe to a tree; over and over and over, it lays dormant and quiet, like it had never run rampant. A wild dog and it’s dear rabbit.

Eris doesn’t look at him, not at first. He sits with his legs drawn up and collects himself. Azriel marks the faint tremble in his hands, the wide, startled look in his eyes and in his head he takes his dagger to his lowest rib and cuts it out as sacrifice.

Maybe there is rage still left, but everything that had been aimed like a carefully primed cross bow bolt is now left to rot and fester in himself.

In front of him, Eris inhales shakily, and rubs out his palms on his knees. “How—” His eyes find Azriel’s, grimacing.

“How did you find me?” He asks.

Azriel has to shake his head because if he doesn’t he’ll sob. “I didn’t. Eris, I didn’t know it was you I just thought it was some spy or soldier or—someone.”

“I thought you hated me.” It would be a comfort, if Eris had say it with anything other than the blank, vacant look on his face.

Azriel chokes—grief or rage it’s all the same he can’t untangle the two anymore. “Never—Eris, never.”

His confession seems to have sparked a wick in him, a light flickering in his amber eyes. Slowly, his shoulders fall from were they had been pressed against his ears. Pointed, delicate, lovely. Just as Azriel remembered them.

“Why did you chase me?”

“I didn’t know it was you!” He cries, fingers locked in the roots of his hair where pain prickles as he tugs.

“And if it hadn’t been?”

“I can’t answer that.”

“I can.” He gestures to the ripped seams of his doublet, his discarded helmet and the red, raised marks from his fingernails on his forearms.

“Tell me you wouldn’t do the same, then.” He challenges, a familiar cadence in this back and forth that he’s been missing for a year.

“I wouldn’t—”

Azriel waves his hands, clearing the rest of his sentence like dust in the air. “No. No, I’ve been half mad. You haven’t—” His words falter then, the steady drip of the tender ache in his chest pinches and floods.

“You were dead. For a year, Eris, you were dead. Tell me you wouldn’t, then.” His voice is ground to gravel. The palms of his hands pressing to the earth as he stares at the shape of Eris—the intimate lines of his shoulder and chest, the dip of his waist that once cradled Azriel’s touch.

Eris’s lashes flutter quickly, eyes glossy. “I can’t.”

“I know.”

“I wasn’t—I’m not dead.” He whispers. His arms are bound around his knees, curled up tight like if he presses himself close together there will be no room for him to fall apart.

Something splinters apart in Azriel—his rage, maybe. “I know.” His words are soft, so quiet the gentle breeze might sweep them away forever.

He holds out his hands; an offering Eris can choose to refuse. The sun has sunk below the hazy line of the horizon, dusk settling on top of them and among the trees like a warm blanket. From the eucalyptus leaves comes the faintest, smallest lights. Mortal stars in the quickly growing dark. They flit and dance among the grey bark trunks, settle on the round-edged leaves of the shrubs, and then hover over the little clearing Azriel and Eris find themselves kneeled in.

Azriel glances to Eris, watching the wonder and realization flicker on his face at the same time those glimmering, amber eyes settle on him. Silently, he reaches out more, the scarred skin of his palms face up. Eris doesn’t stand to walk over to him, instead falling on his hands and knees and scuffling through the dirt and brush.

He’s close, close enough, the dim glow of firefly light catching on the deep copper of his hair—Azriel tugs him in the rest of the way with a sound far to broken to ever explain falling from his lips.

“Gach’lilit,” he whispers, reverent. Strands of hair in his mouth and nose but he just buries his face deeper. “I thought you were dead.”

His arms cling around Eris, the familiar weight and shape of his body pressed to his. He tightens his grip around his waist, digging his fingers into the silk of his hair at the back of his head as Eris crawls closer, closer, like he’s trying to fit and wriggle inside Azriel’s ribcage.

“I’m so sorry,” he heaves a dry sob, arms curled so tight around his shoulders Azriel can feel his thundering pulse through his hands. “I didn’t mean—everything just fell apart so fast.”

“Why didn’t you write to me? I would have helped.”

He feels Eris shake his head against his neck. “I couldn’t. He took the journal, I had no way to contact you after and he wouldn’t—wouldn’t let me leave.” His breath shudders out of him, so heavy Azriel feels the just of his ribs against his chest.

“He?” There it is—appearing with a wild snarl, his rage reignites along with the searching path of his hands.

His head rears back, cupping Eris’s face in the warmth of his palms. There’s lilac bruises under his eyes, a scarred over cut on his cheekbone, his pink lips cracked and bleeding sluggishly. Eris is always beautiful, always has been and always will be, but now he’s almost haunting with the pale pallor of his skin, the hollowness in his cheeks.

Eris doesn’t answer, but a pained pinch forms between his brows—and Azriel understands three truths at once.

With the first, he circles back to when the sun was high enough to cap the trees. At the end of everything, there is only wrath.

The second revelation he manages to bring under his control—though it writhes, spitting and clawing against his control. Azriel will never be able to part with his rage.

The third comes on the end of the second. A lingering firefly, the vacant gleam of Eris’s amber eyes:

He now has a direction for it. A cup he needs to fill. An appetite he needs to whet—but not for himself.

~~///~~///~~///~~

*types out dissertation* ... *slowly backspaces*

Listen I totally could - I WON'T. But know that I could. I will at least say this because, as my bio says, I am and forever will be a yapper. I wanted to play around with this theme I have been obsessed with since reading the Iliad, of grief motivating rage. And how, especially in the case of Achilles, it leads to him exhibiting an animalistic, brutal rage against Hector.

So, like, there you go. ta-da

Thank you for reading!! <3

#azris #azrisweek2024 #azriel x eris #azris fanfiction #azris supremacy #ah see im learning the tags now #took me a minute but we got there #continuing on with my obsession of relating iliad quotes to azris because 🌟themes🌟

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lockedtombmemesandreferences · 1 year ago

Text

A highly unthorough and lacking compilation of memes and references in Gideon the Ninth

I've seen plenty of compilations of memes and references in HTN, but very few compilations for GTN. And so, behold! I hath created this. Enjoy! (All page numbers are from my paperback copy. I shall include citations for people who found various things when applicable).

Act One

p. 53: "Oh, nonsense!" said Harrow languorously. "She’s a genius. With the proper motivation, Griddle could wield two swords in each hand and one in her mouth. While we were developing common sense, she studied the blade. Am I right, Griddle?"

This is a reference to a meme dating from 2016, "I studied the blade." https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/i-studied-the-blade

p. 69 (nice!): Gideon realised that Harrow was trembling; little licks of hole-black hair were pasted to her pale-grey forehead with sweat, threatening to dissolve the paint. Gideon realised with a start that she was trembling and sweating in concert. They looked at each other with a wild surmise, and then started dabbing at their faces with the insides of their sleeves.

This is a reference to John Keats' poem, "On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer," from 1816.

"...He star'd at the Pacific—and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise— Silent, upon a peak in Darien..." (https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44481/on-first-looking-into-chapmans-homer)

Special thanks to Locked Tomb References, who found this one! (https://lockedtombreferences.tumblr.com/post/616309681665736704/embed)

Also p.69: Gideon winked at her increasingly agitated companion. She said, sotto voce: “But then you couldn’t have admired … these,” and whipped on the glasses she’d unearthed back home. They were ancient smoked-glass sunglasses, with thin black frames and big mirrored lenses, and they greyed out Harrow’s expression of incredulous horror as she adjusted them on her nose.

Badasses wearing sunglasses is a common staple in fiction, but I have a source as reliable as Herodotus's (which is to say I saw a guy say they read somewhere that Muir said that) these sunglasses are a reference to Dave Strider's sunglasses from Homestuck. (https://mspaintadventures.fandom.com/wiki/Sunglasses)

Act Two:

p. 94: “Nooo Magnus! Don’t say we’re overcome!” moaned the nasty girl, sotto voce.

This is also a bit of a stretch, similar to the one above, but the speaking patterns of Jeannemary and Isaac may be a reference to the eponymous character in Charlie the Unicorn's speaking patterns. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bKd_2vqPrmU&pp=ygUUY2hhcmxpZSB0aGUgdW5pZmNvcm4%3D)

p. 131: "Fiat lux!" If you want to talk about being improbable, let's talk about this"--a scrape of stone on stone--"being three thousand and some years older than this." A heavy clunk.

"Fiat lux" is Latin for "Let there be light," and is a reference to Genesis 1:3. (https://www.drbo.org/chapter/01001.htm)

Act Three:

p. 222 “Let me make my business plain. I have no interest in Septimus’s woes,” Harrow said. “The Seventh House is not our friend. You’re making yourself an utter fool over Dulcinea. And I dislike her cavalier even more—” (“Massive slam on Protesilaus out of nowhere,” said Gideon.)

This is a reference to Mystery Science Theatre 3000's viewing of the trashy 1983 SF film, Overdrawn at the Memory Bank. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qIBBbI-55fQ)

Special thanks to u/Leoriste, who found this one! (https://www.reddit.com/r/TheNinthHouse/comments/14vsoxp/meme_reference/)

p.230 Gideon mumbled, "Harrow, you can't just ask someone why they want to be a Lyctor," but was roundly ignored.

This is a reference to the Mean Girls quote, "Oh my god Karen, you can’t just ask people why they’re white." (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z8wrqe72YG4)

Act Four:

p. 318: Silas took an infuriatingly long drink of water. The pallid column of his throat moved. “They died on the way back to their home planet,” he said, wiping his mouth. “Their shuttle exploded. Curious, considering it was a perfectly good Cohort shuttle with an experienced pilot. This was the shuttle you had intended to commandeer, was it not?”

This might be a stretch, but could also be a reference to The Simpsons season 8, episode 14, "The Itchy & Scratchy & Poochie Show," which includes the line, "Poochie died on the way back to his home planet."

Special thanks to u/CowgirlSmut for finding this one! (https://www.reddit.com/r/TheNinthHouse/comments/14vsoxp/meme_reference/)

p. 412: Half a dozen tendrils came after her. They would have given her an interesting array of new airholes for speed, but a skeleton staggered out of the darkness and took most of the blows, jawbone crushed into powder as a tendril lashed open its skull.

This is a reference to The Simpsons, season 6 episode 15, "Homie the Clown," in which someone tries selling Homer a car with bulletholes, "for speed." (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=whnms4CLJys)

Special thanks to u/altacc2020 for finding this one! (https://www.reddit.com/r/TheNinthHouse/comments/lodjro/comment/go6ac2u/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)

Act Five:

"The land that shall receive thee dying, in the same will I die: and there will I be buried. The Lord do so and so to me, and add more also, if aught but death part me and thee," said Gideon.

This is a direct quotation from Ruth 1:17. (https://www.drbo.org/chapter/08001.htm)

And that's everything I've got so far! If you've got references to suggest or I snagged something you think you found first without due credit, let me know! Thanks, everyone!

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smallraindrops-blog · 7 months ago

Note

hi! requests are open, yes? may i ask for a poly tsc!reader x wmftd!y/n x hypno? idk how this’d work but it seemed fun and v self indulgent which is the Best kind of fun hehe. have a nice day!

Constellations of Us

(Part One)

Pairing: TSC!Reader X Hypnos X WMFTD!Y/N

Word count: 7.5

Warnings: Angst, post-breakup for TSC!R x Y/N, jealousy, AU, mentions of infidelity ( none that occurs between the main ship), multiple POVs, no beta.

Summary:

‘Nothing is more unintelligible than the human heart.’ - Homer, The Odyssey.

Brokenhearted and the new resident of the House of Hades, you are left to pick up the shattered pieces of yourself.

Funny enough, your hands aren’t the only ones in the pile.

Notes:

Requests are not open.

I am simply working on a very overdue request.

For sake of readability, TSC!Reader will be in second person aka ‘you’, Hypnos and Y/N will be in third person’s. I will also attach who POV is.

This will likely be two parts.

Thank you for waiting. I hope this first part is worth the wait.

(Reader’s Pov)

The administration chamber had quieten down as the last few shades hurried out, done with their duties for the day. Their happy chatter faded with each step they took. The room was dimmer with just a few candles, the warm light smothered by the dark. Walls of scrolls seem to go up and up into an endless height.

You paused on the paper you were working on, your quill left in the ink pot as you reread it. You were mildly impressed that the Master’s son had managed to find new ways to break apart the underworld.

Who knew fire could be used as a surfboard?

You gave a quiet chuckle at the mere thought but slowly, your smile faded.

This wasn’t what you thought it would be.

A skilled healer turned into a bookkeeper. What would Patroclus say?

You weren’t sure how you felt about it but it was an undeniable fact that the dead didn’t need healers. At least, this way you were getting paid. Not that money meant much to you.

It was just proof that you were doing something and not wasting away.

The bureaucracy was mind numbing and exhausting. It was also what you wanted.

You didn’t have to think about anything that wasn’t the work on your desk. You didn't think about your shattered heart. That the love of your life was just a few steps away, unable to meet your eyes.

Or think about the god that had taken your place.

Only if there was paperwork you could use to sign away your own useless heart.

You rubbed your forehead, hating that the moment you stopped working was when you thought about him.

About them.

With a sigh, you picked up your quill and signed the paperwork, verifying that the money will be needed to fix the damage.

“Oh! You’re still here.”

With a muffled gasp, you looked up. Did you somehow summon the god of sleep by a mere thought?

Lord Hypnos blinked at you slowly, drifting closer to your desk like he wasn’t a intruder. His red cloak floated around his shoulders, so heavy it looked like a blanket. He didn’t have the regal appearance of Queen Persephone, or the terrifying aura of Lady Nyx but it was undeniable that he was a god.

The god of sleep smiled at you hesitantly, staring down at you. If the god stood on his own feet, he would be taller than you. Another insult even if unintentional.

You hated that you couldn’t deny how beautiful he was. Heavy lidded golden eyes, full lips and perfectly messy curls. His form was mostly hidden under his modest clothes but the glimpses of his arms revealed a slender masculine shape.

“I am, Lord Hypnos.” You kept your voice quiet, respectful as you stood. You bowed your head, your hands curled by your side. “How may I be of service to you?”

“Just Hypnos.” The god corrected with a hand wave. “I think we both passed that point, hm?”

You didn’t know what to say to that.

Hypnos lifted up the thick stack of paperwork in his hands, giving you a rueful grin, “Master Hades had loudly informed me and everyone else in the hall that I had messed up my paperwork once more. Form ZEY -1 to ZEY-213 and um…Form S-3 to Form S-111. I think.”

“I will be happy to make you new copies.” You said in a rush, glad to be given a task. The sooner you can get this god away from you, the better. With a speed you didn’t know you had, you hurried to get him new paperwork.

You wondered how he could mess up simple paperwork but didn’t ask. One, you didn't want to even look at him. Two. It wasn’t your problem.

The god had shamelessly picked up your quill and studied it with his head tilt when you returned. Soft white curls spilled over his ridiculous sleep mask. Another thing you didn’t understand, how a god could be so... ungodly.

It was an ugly thing to think of and you hated that small, petty side of yourself. Afterall, the god did nothing wrong.

This whole mess was yours and Y/N’s fault. You were grown enough to admit that at least.

Lord Hypnos’ face lit up when he spied you. His graceful hands took the fresh stack of paperwork, and your quill floated back to its ink pot with a wave of his finger. You winced when you noticed how ratty your writing quill was getting. You just didn’t care enough to replace it when it was still working perfectly fine.

His old forms were on your desk. There were doodles of random animals, flowers - and maybe a person? There were a few of them, each one different.- everywhere on the paper and you saw many, many blank lines with missing information.

Well then.

“This is horribly awkward, isn’t it?” Lord Hypnos chuckled, drumming his fingers along the papers. You bit the inside of your cheek. Lord Hypnos lifted an white eyebrow, and you realized that he was waiting for a response.

Gods were supposed to know when morals lied, or so you were warned by your mother growing up.

“Very much so, Lord Hypnos.” You sighed. No point in denying it. It was horrible. It was right down painful. You didn’t know loving someone and knowing they belonged to someone else could hurt so much.

“Hypnos. Please. Just Hypnos. I have rank over you so you have to obey. Or at least pretend to.” Hypnos said with a wink. The joke came effortlessly to Hypnos or so it seemed. It was a talent you couldn’t help but admire.

“Hypnos.” You admened with a jerky nod.

A thick pause filled the space between you and the god. All your life, you were taught to respect and worship the gods. Now you were handing one of the infinite beings paperwork.

It was surreal.

“Well, I guess I will go and try not to mess this up again.” Hypnos laughed again, like it was another joke. You tried to smile but you weren’t sure you had succeeded.

It wasn't until Hypnos vanished that you allowed yourself to slump against your desk. You covered your eyes with your hand and let out a shaky breath.

You survived a lot. This was nothing compared to the brutal war that stole so much away, your heart shattering into millions pieces or even your death.

With an inhale, you made yourself straightened up. This was nothing and you will get over it.

You had to.

A moment later, you realized that his paperwork had been left on your desk. Unsure what to do, you just shoved the pile into one of your empty drawers.

You will deal with it later.

There were many things you missed about living. What surprised you that one of the things you missed the most was the ability to tell time. There were no sundials in the underworld nor calendars.

The closest thing you and every other shade had was the coming and going of Queen Persephone, her gentle smile was nothing more than a fading memory.

Sometimes the Prince would let something slip when he came in for paperwork.

His very appearance was enough to terrorize every administration shade, yourself included.

“Please don’t touch that, your highness.” You begged as Prince Zagrues began flipping through files, tossing them aside or worse, putting it back in the cabinet but out of order when he didn’t find what he was looking for.

You thought you heard one of the shades begin to weep.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be long.” Prince Zagreus assured you cheerfully then he picked up a box too quickly, the scrolls rolled out onto the floor.

Several of the scrolls unfurled, hitting your foot. You bit on the inside of your cheek, so hard that if you were still alive, you would taste blood.

Then Prince Zagreus dropped the armfuls of scrolls he was holding.

The weeping turned to full on sobs and horrified stares. You couldn’t quite stop the strangled noise of anger that spilled from your lips.

“Sir please just tell me what-“ you tried to speak but Zagreus was already going back to the next box of scrolls.

“Why are they crying?” The prince asked you with a frown, like he didn’t realize that he had single handedly ruined everyone’s hard work. “I know spring has ended since I last came in but I just need this one record. I still remember where it is. I think.”

Your ears perked at that.

It had been a while since Queen Persephone returned, and if Spring had ended with Zagreus’ last visit, along with the rumors she will be returning in due time. It must be close to the end of summer then.

Gods, what wouldn’t you give for a sundial and calendar?

“Hey! Didn’t your Father ban you? Or had he unbanned you again?” Hypnos swept through the crowd of shades, his cloak bellowed behind him as he came closer. He lifted an eyebrow at the mess that Prince Zagreus created then slowly he glanced toward the crying shade.

“Wowie.” Hypnos murmured. “You already made one of them cry. Good job, your highness. Just like your father.”

Prince Zagrues had the grace to look guilty. “I just need this one thing, Hypnos.”

Hypnos gave Zagreus an unimpressed look, a hand on his hip. “What? Do you need to know how many times you've been run over? Or stabbed? Or nibbled on? Or how many times you annoyed me?”

“Fish.” Zagreus admitted with a shrug. “I wanted to see my fishing records.”

You slapped a hand on your forehead, prompting both gods to look at you. You flushed when you realized how disrespectful it was and murmured an apology. You immediately went three spaces over and pulled the box labeled with Zagreus’ name and quickly found what he was looking for.

“Oh thank you, my good shade.” Zagreus said, reading the scroll. “Huh, I haven’t been fishing as much as I thought.”

“Are you done terrorizing everyone?” Hypnos’ question was honey-coated, his smile fake.

“Oh come on now, I am not that bad.” Zagreus replied then he looked at you, flashing you a gorgeous smile. One that told you that Zagreus knew he was a troublemaker. “Am I?”

Hypnos grabbed a random scroll and began smacking Zagreus with it. “Out. Out, you foul thing. Shoo!”

“Ow! Stop it, Hypnos. You are going to give me a papercut.” Zagreus batted at the air as he left, Hypnos was still hitting him.

Exhaustion hit you like a wall. Suddenly, you just wanted a bottle of wine to drink and maybe a small nap. However Prince Zagreus’ mess was calling to you. With a sigh, you kneeled and began gathering the scrolls.

You were going to have to stay late. Again.

“Hey, I am sorry about him. You should see his room, I mean really.” Hypnos had returned like a ghost, hovering near you. You nearly dropped the scrolls when you heard his voice.

“No, thank you.” You muttered. You had no intention of ever seeing or stepping into Prince Zagreus’ chambers.

“Wise decision.” Hypnos said with a nod, grabbing some of the scrolls himself only to immediately give it to some unfortunate shade.

You dropped the scrolls on your desk, and turned to face Hypnos. You wanted to shoo him out much like he just did to Zagreus but you didn’t. You bit your tongue.

The god gave you a grin but you saw the tension around the corner of his smile. He was nervous.

Why would a god be uneasy around a nobody moral like you? There was that certain someone you and the god had in common however one look at you then at Hypnos would make it clear that you were outclassed in every sense of the word.

“Is there anything I can help you with, Lo- I mean Hypnos?” You asked when he still didn’t speak up. You could feel the weight of eyes on your back, no doubt you were going to the main conversation for post-work drinks.

Lovely. Just lovely.

Hypnos bit on his bottom lip, his long fingers drumming on your desk. “Well, yes. I seem to be missing some forms. Like could you see if you have any for me? Um. Please?”

“Of course.” You murmured as you went to check for him. There was a nagging suspicion that Hypnos didn’t have any missing paperwork, one that was confirmed when Hypnos’ paper tray was empty.

When you went back, the god was gone.

You glanced down the scrolls and frowned. On top of the pile was a brand new quill and a note.

‘A thank you gift! - Hypnos.’ There were little smiley faces and flowers surrounding the words.

You took a sharp inhale. The quill was nice, far nicer than what a normal shade should have. But you weren’t glad for it.

It felt like he was mocking you. There was no point in him giving you this. It felt like a slap, one more taunting gesture toward your worthless heart.

You didn’t hesitate to grab the quill along with the note and dump the stuff into the drawer, the one that was still filled with Hypnos’ forgotten paperwork.

The loud slam of the drawer closing echoed out though the administrative chamber. With a huff, you returned to work, glaring at anyone brave enough to glance your way.

When everyone else left for the night, you pulled the quill out. You twirled it between your fingers, resting your chin on your hand as you studied it.

The quill was high quality, the orange color shone like fire in the candlelight. If you remembered correctly, it was the same type that Hypnos used.

Maybe Y/N use the same one as well.

With a sigh, you closed your eyes, the heartache settling in like an old friend. Perhaps taking this job was a mistake. Not that you had much choice. When one is summoned by Master Hades, it is usually in their best interest to obey.

Regardless, it would be best to thank the god of sleep. You highly doubt that Hypnos took time out of his day to mock you. Besides you saw how he bullied Zagreus. He wasn’t the type to hide his teasing.

Nor will you be ruled by your own heartache. You had seen the ugly paths a soul could take doing so.

You closed your eyes against the memories. Maybe someday you won't be haunted by your own ghosts.

It shouldn’t have been surprising when you found Hypnos by your desk when you came in yet it still caught you off guard.

The god flashed a toothy grin, waving with far too much enthusiasm for the start of a workday. His curls looked messier, his sleep mask loose around his neck and his right cheek were marked by lines. It looked like he just woke up from a pleasant nap.

Yet that only seems to add to his beauty and you tried not to think about how unfair that it was.

“There you are, my favorite administrative shade- worker-?” He paused, tapping his chin with a finger, then with a nod. “Shade.”

“Hypnos.” You greeted in a more relaxed manner, “I take it you need something from me?”

His smile turned sheepish. “Well. It seemed I messed up my papers once more. I am surprised the house is standing after all the Master's screaming.”

“Oh that must be why the house was shaking earlier.” You teased him, surprising yourself and him. Mostly yourself.

Hypnos looked delighted, his hands fluttered in the air. “See, I knew you were my favorite for a reason. The others just roll their eyes at me.”

You cleared your throat, stuffling the papers on your desk. “So what forms do you need?”

Hypnos opened his mouth then closed it with a clink. “Um-well-”

Pity bloomed in your chest the longer Hypnos struggled. It must have been obvious on your face because Hypnos crossed his arms. He was actually scowling. At you.

You blinked in surprise. Not even Master Hades could break Hypnos’ smiles, it was a fact everyone in the house knew.

“I don’t know how you- or anyone for that matter- can keep up with the forms! Everytime I think I know which ones, I turn around and there are a billion more.” Hypnos ran a hand through his curls, frustration clear in the furrow of his brow.

“There are a lot of forms.” You agreed, your eyes darting over to the walls of scrolls. Only problem was, those forms were necessary. There was so much that needed to be documented for Master Hades to fully understand everything that happens in his domain.

Or you hoped so. Otherwise you and everyone else are doing busy work for nothing.

Then an idea came to you. You immediately began to pull out your drawers, ignoring Hypnos’ curious glance as he floated closer.

Where was it-

“Ah! Found it!” You grinned as you revealed the small notebook. It was a blank one that you haven’t gotten around to using yet. It wasn’t as nice as the ones you saw Master Hades used but it will suit.

Hypnos lifted an unimpressed eyebrow. “Yay?”

“Lists.” You told him with a smile. “Whenever I have a lot of work, or stuff I need to remember, I write down everything in a to-do list.”

You offered the notebook to Hypnos. You held your breath, sure that the god was going to reject it.

Hypnos reached out, his slender fingers brushing against you. You resisted the urge to jerk, shocked at the sheer amount of warmth that came from the god of sleep.

The god flipped through the pages. He was obvious, thankfully. “Do you really think this will help me?”

“Yes.” You said, giving him a sure nod. “I still remember when Patroclus was first teaching me. There was always so much information I needed to know. Once I could write and read, those lists were a lifesaver.”

Hypnos nodded slowly. “Okay. Yeah, you know what? I’ll try it. I mean, there is a reason Y/N calls you a genius, right?”

Those unassuming words caused you to flinch like you were slapped. You didn’t realize that Y/N still called you by your old nickname especially to Hypnos. Or that he told Hypnos that much about you.

The god caught on immediately. His heavy lidded eyes going wide, his golden irises gleamed with shame.

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit a sore spot.” Hypnos grimaced. “I am quite talented at sticking my foot in my mouth.”

“It’s fine.” Your smile was brittle.

Hypnos bit down on his full bottom lip, the silence filling the hollowed space. Then the door opened, then a flood of shades came. Some brightly chattering as others tried desperately to wake up.

Some of the office busybodies caught sight of you and Hypnos with wide eyes. They stared shamelessly, even slowing down as they walked passed. You rolled your eyes.

As the newcomer who hasn't had a breakdown yet, you were a novelty among the gossipy office workers. It didn’t help that you also had a certain god who wouldn’t leave you alone. Hypnos closed the notebook with a nod and offered up a smile. One that you returned.

“Find out what forms you need and I will make sure to have a fresh batch ready for you.” You told him.

It wasn’t until he left that you slumped into your not so comfortable chair. Immediately, it was Lydia who came up to you. Her blue eyes staring a hole into you.

“What was that about?” She asked, placing her hands on your desk and you thought she might be attempting a friendly smile.

“Our favorite type of paperwork. You know how crazy I go over forms for TA.” You replied blandly. It was petty but the look of pure indignation she shot at you was totally worth the uncomfortable moment with Hypnos.

Don’t leave me! Don’t- don’t! please!

You jerked awake, gasping for breath, limps tangled in your blanket. You stared up at the dark ceiling with wide eyes, the candle in your room was so dim it was almost nonexistent.

Hating yourself, you pressed your palms against your damp eyes, willing the tears to stop. Only more came, running down your cheeks. You let out a quiet sob.

You hated that dream.

It came over and over again. Never letting you get true rest.

Eventually, you curled under the blanket like you could hide from it, your hands clinging to it, all alone in the dark.

You weren’t embarrassed to admit that your knees still shook whenever you were called forward by Master Hades. It was the most perfectly respectable response a moral could have.

His size was impressive, beastly in comparison to a moral. He flipped through the report you gave him, his scowl deepened as the silence grew. You resisted the urge to shift on your feet.

You felt like if you just twitched, it would attract the god’s attention, like a cat to a very dumb rat, and that was the last thing you wanted.

“On form TA11 to TA13 regarding Tartarus’s last chamber, it looks like you corrected the previous shade’s work. Why was that necessary?” Master Hades said. His tone was polite - for him anyway.- but there was an undercurrent of danger.

“Yes, Master Hades. If you please refer to the file on your desk, you will see what the contractor shades had noted down for repairs versus what was listed on the forms. The document will show with the corrected information along with the new knowledge that we can reuse the materials and save a decent amount.”

The words came out quickly, your fingers shaky as the god did as you requested. Hades studied the forms and the documents, his red eyes darted between the paperwork.

“Very well.” Master Hades signed the paperwork and you felt your soul resume in a dizzying rush.

As you began your return to your overflowing desk, Hypnos waved at you. When he saw he had your attention, he gave you a double thumbs up with a wide grin. It made him look utterly ridiculous.

Not wanting to be rude, you gave the world’s most awkward thumbs up back. You didn’t know why he wanted to be friendly with you of all people.

Pity, maybe.

You kept your head down as you hurried down the hallway, eyes skimming over Master Hades’ notes. It was better not to look, to not see him.

“Genius, slow down.”

You paused in mid step, your body going on autopilot at the mere sound of his deep voice. With a sharp inhale and a silent prayer for strength, you faced him.

It didn't stop the devastating knife from twisting in your heart. He was just as you remembered, his eyes intense as he studied your expression. You jutted your chin out, your nails digging into the paperwork.

Unlike you, he looked like he belonged here among the gods. His strength was undeniable even as a shade, his presence commanded respect. You hated that you still wanted to reach out, to wipe away that brooding expression to reveal his smile.

“That isn’t something you get to call me anymore, Sir Y/N.” Your tone came out abrupt, harsh among the gentle light of the hallway.

His eyes flashed and it was obvious that he wanted to say something back. You straighten your back, ready to counter. It was comforting in a horrible sort of way since disagreements were normal for you and him even before the war. It would feel good to blow off some steam.

Then he only nodded. His voice low as he took a step back. “Of course, reader. Forgive me for overstepping.”

And just like that the wind went out your sails. Were you really going to have a full on argument with Y/N in the middle of your workplace? You closed your eyes for a single moment then adjusted the papers in your hands.

“Was there a reason you wanted to speak with me?” You didn’t look at him again. You don’t think you could bear it.

“I heard that you and Hypnos had been...working together.” He said after a pause. His voice was a lower octave and you shivered at the sound of it. “That notebook you gave him, it is actually helping him. A lot.”

“Good.” You said. You actually meant that. Even if you weren’t sure about Hypnos, you hated the idea of anyone struggling. Then you heard him repeat your name, his voice lower.

It took everything in you to not look up at him. To reach for him. “I’m glad to hear that. Was there anything else you wanted?”

“I wanted to say thank you.” He murmured. “So thank you. For helping Hypnos when I couldn’t.”

His quiet gratitude hit a new soreness in your heart - one that you didn't know even existed- but you forced yourself to take a breath. With strength you didn’t really feel, you made yourself look.

There was an unexpected softness in his expression, one that you recognized. You had seen it countless times, during long nights after battles, whenever he pulled you close or the quiet moments of just you and him with the sunshine warm on your skin.

Your breath hitched, and you wanted to tell him that you missed him, that you were sorry about how everything went down, that you just wanted to hold him one more time.

You wanted to ask if he missed you just as much.

Then you caught a glimpse of white curls, Hypnos’ curious expression shifted to one of guilt and he darted away as Y/N turned his head toward the noise.

“I’m more than happy to help anytime. Tell him I said thanks for the writing quill.” You said, your cheeks flushed hot from pure shame. You were already hurrying away like the guilt was nipping at your heels.

His presence was the reminder you needed to snap you back to reality.

You thought you heard Y/N began to call you back only for his voice to fade as you pushed past the doors.

(Hypnos’ pov)

“A writing quill?” His voice was low, only for Hypnos’ ears even though they were alone. With a quiet hum, Hypnos gave an indulgent stretch, too stated to actually get up. His arms flopped down around his head and grinned when he caught the flash of hunger in Y/N’s expression.

He met Y/N’s cool stare with an innocent blink.The shade had somehow still had energy, sitting up in the bed. Blankets were pooled around them, with countless soft as cloud pillows spilling onto the floor. The firelight was golden and peaceful.

His mortal looked gorgeous, the light casting shadows over his muscular form, tempting Hypnos to move closer and use his tongue to trace the lines of his powerful body.

For some reason, his mind flashed back to Reader, or Genius as Y/N called him. The guilt in the Reader’s face was a mirror to Hypnos’ own. Hypnos didn't mean to eavesdrop on a private moment, really.

He just wanted... he didn’t know, not yet.

Hypnos gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “He needed a new one. The one the house gave him was falling apart.”

Y/n said nothing. He didn't need to, his silence was enough.

Hypnos sighed, closing his eyes. “You will have to accept his presence here eventually.”

“I have.” Y/N said, his calloused fingers caressing Hypnos’ bare hip. Hypnos let out a soft gasp, goosebumps forming on his skin but he didn't move.

Y/N moved downward, pressing open mouth kisses against Hypnos' neck. “What I don't understand is why you are so determined to befriend him.”

Hypnos gripped Y/N's broad shoulders, torn between wanting more or making him stop so they could talk. His eyes traced the stars that gleamed above them. If he was completely honest, Hypnos still didn’t completely know why he cared.

But he did.

There was something about Reader...

“I like him. Hades still hasn't found anything wrong with their work. And I know he tried. Many times.” Hypnos said, not even attempting to hide his jealousy. He never knew someone who could stand toe to toe with Master Hades with paperwork.

not even his Mother could say such things. Certainly not Hypnos nor the Queen herself.

Hypnos huffed. “ And he actually wants to help people, do you know how rare that is? I think anyone else would have refused to help me, considering the situation.”

Y/N pressed a lingering kiss against Hypnos' collarbone before rolling off on him. His voice was quiet. “I do.”

Hypnos bit his lip, his thoughts whirling. Maybe he should confess to maybe taking quite a few peaks of Y/N’s nightmares and of his gentle dreams. That Hypnos had seen moments shared between lovers. Ones that weren't him and Y/N.

That Hypnos knew Reader still dreamt of y/n.

Jealousy had definitely been there but not as much as Hypnos thought there would be. If anything, he wanted to keep watching. He didn’t but now, he was curious about this other person.

This other person that his dearest had loved once. Maybe he still did.

Hypnos wasn’t sure what to expect when he finally met Reader. There was nothing unique about him. He could have easily been lost among the crowd, even if he was pretty for a moral.

Then Hypnos saw it. The spark in those eyes that spoke of an unnatural intellect. Then Reader kept helping Hypnos, again and again.

Reader had been someone Y/N had loved. Surely that meant something. Especially if Hypnos was right, that he saw the same longing in Reader's eyes.

Hypnos stared up at the canopy, turning the moments over and over in his mind like a puzzle to be solved. Then you reached for him and Hypnos went obediently, sighing when he found a comfortable position, his leg over y/n’s thick quads, his hand on Hypnos’ hip.

”Love you.” He murmured, kissing Hypnos’ forehead gently. Hypnos returned a kiss against Y/n’s bare skin.

“Love you too.” Hypnos murmured, his fingers trailing over familiar scars.

It felt odd, like something was shifting into a new shape but it wasn’t quite sure what shape it wanted to be yet. Hypnos knew all he could do was wait and see.

(Reader’s Pov)

Shades were rushing past your desk, their arms overflowing with scrolls, orders yelled overhead as the chaos grew. One of the more experienced shade were already passing around a flask, muttering about how it was going to be a long night.

You skimmed over the scroll once more. You were obvious to the chaos around you. It was almost like being back in the war, only this time you didn’t have your hands inside a pulsing body, rushing against time and the fates themselves to save lives.

This time, it was just your -and everyone else’s- livelihood.

Queen Persephone was due back any day now and Master Hades’ list of demands had only grown.

New flowers needed to be ordered, fresh wood for the hearth, there was a rare type of soil mix from Olympus that Queen Persephone had requested months ago and it still hasn't arrived. Fancy food and types of wines that you have never heard of, fine fabric and so on and so on.

Your fingers danced along the abacus as you went over the numbers of Hades' orders and the cost of everything. It was already more money then you would have earned in a thousand lifetimes but the numbers were easy and mind numbing.

Which may be why you didn't notice him at first.

“Reader.” His low voice was enough to jolt you out the trance you were in, your fingers lingering on the wooden beads.

Y/n stared down at you, his arms gripping a huge stack of scrolls. You blinked once then once more as you registered just how many he was holding. His strong jaw clenched, the glint in his eyes hard as stone.

It was a familiar expression, one that told you just how close he was to losing it. Once you had been the one to reach over and smooth away the anger. But that wasn’t your place anymore.

Not that your body didn’t seem to get the memo. Your fingers twitched.

“What is this?” You gestured toward the pile of work, trying to keep your voice cool.

He exhaled, “Master Hades had decided in his infinite wisdom to increase security for the house. Again. I have the paperwork for the new routines for myself to be filed, along with new procedures for the administration staff.”

With that, he dumped the scrolls in the ‘IN’ box.

“You’re kidding me.” You breathed, plucking the top scroll and unfurling it. You skimmed over the words, a pounding headache forming behind your eyes.

This was just more work, not even necessary with all the last minute preparations for the Queen. No one was going home until the Queen arrived, that was for sure. Maybe you should have taken that offer for a drink after all.

“Here.”

He placed a wrapped parcel on your desk, the rich scent of spiced meat and herbs hitting your nose immediately. Your mouth watered.

With a head shake, you pushed it back to him. “I don’t-“

But he was already walking away, “You need something, gen- Reader.” He scoffed. “You get cranky without food.”

That made your mouth snap close and you let him go without another word. The parcel was still warm when you picked it up. As a shade, food wasn’t a need. But it was a gift from Y/N.

And he wasn’t wrong to be honest.

You unwrapped the parcel, inhaling the scent of the gemista. A simple food, a large tomato stuffed with herbs, meat and vegetables. It took you back to long nights over bonfires, of your thigh pressed against Y/N’s, of Achilles’ lyra playing sweet melodies, Patroclus’ dark eyes watching over with pride.

When you took the first bite, you let yourself savor the meal like chaos wasn’t surrounding you. Then you devoured the rest in a single bite and got back to work. The gods wait for no one.

The fates must still keep an eye out for the shades because Queen Persephone’s reunification with the house went off without a hitch. Laughter from the celebrations reached even as far as the administration chamber.

No doubt that wine was free flowing and the tables were stuffed with delicious food. Your stomach growled even if you didn’t actually feel hungry. The thought over an overfilled cup of wine sounded heavenly.

But the thought of possibly running into a certain couple made your gut turn sour. So you looked down at your desk, biting down on your lip.

Numbers were nothing but blurry ink to you now and the lights felt like a thousand sun. You forced yourself to blink your painfully dry eyes. Others were celebrating, some already packing up to return home. It must have been many days since the start of this whole madness.

As you listened in, you wished that you could have done something. But you were dead and so was the child. At least, their many grandparents were more than happy to fuss and spoil the little one.

One of the older men was telling the others about the young grandchild that had recently made their journey to the underworld.

An short and brutal illness was the cause.

You began to clean up your desk, sighing at the chaos. Ink bottles and papers were scattered everywhere and you cursed yourself for getting so messy.

“Hey, you should come join us.” One of your coworkers, you had forgotten his name, said quietly. He nodded toward the mess on your desk. “I promise it will be more fun than cleaning up.”

The shade was good-looking, his eyes were a charming, gentle brown and his smile was perfect. It made you smile in return but nothing stirred, no breathless sparks in you.

”No. I can't come along but thank you for the invite.” You told him.

“I insist, let me buy you a drink. Gods knows, you were the only reason none of us lost our jobs today.” He pushed a little more, his smile was still there but it looked a little more colder.

You parted your lips but before you could say anything else, a voice piped up.

”He can’t, because he already promised to join me.” Hypnos beamed at your coworker, blatantly lying. “Early birdie get the worm as they say.”

The shade narrowed his eyes at Hypnos as if doubtful of Hypnos’ words.

”Soooo.” Hypnos waved him off, like he was a bothersome and pushy merchant. A beat and the shade ducked his head, “Of course, Lord Hypnos. See you around, Reader.”

“Yeah.” You murmured, noting that Hypnos didn’t bother to correct the shade on the title. Far as you knew from rumors and your own handful of interactions, Hypnos didn’t let coworkers call him by any titles, or even strangers if Hypnos liked them on sight.

Once the group left, it was like the air in the room went with them.

Suddenly, you were aware that you were alone with Hypnos. You have been before but it was different this time. One that you couldn’t put your finger on.

“Thanks but I had it under control.” You told him, stacking the last bits of paper and sitting it aside.

”I don’t doubt that for a moment but I never get to play the hero.” Hypnos grinned at you. It was so boyishly sweet that you actually were a little charmed by it. “Beside, you and I are going to go get a drink, I need to thank you for saving my behind from Master Hades.”

You shook your head but Hypnos held up his hands. His fingers were spread out a little, each one was slender and long. Hands that artists would craft into marble. Unlike your rough hands, ruined by years of creating herbal medicine and cleaning them with harsh soaps.

”I won’t push.” Hypnos said quietly. “I would like to thank you. I usually get yelled so much, my ears would ring for hours but the making a list thing, it really did help. But I understand if you don’t want to.”

His words struck you as sincere. You bit down on your lip, torn. Did you really want to share a drink with Y/n’s lover, to act like you and him were friends? It would be the adult thing to do, but you might only be sitting youself up for a world of hurt.

“Why are you trying to be so nice to me?” The words spilled out before you could stop them. You slapped a hand over your mouth as if that would help take them back.

Hypnos cocked his head. “I’m curious about you.”

You blinked, surprised at his honesty. “You are?”

”Aren’t you curious about me?” Hypnos asked, his golden eyes watchful.

You considered his words then slowly nodded. “I am actually.”

At those words, Hypnos reached into his cloak and pulled out two bottles of nectar. He wiggled one of the round bottles at you, the liquid appeared like melted gold in the lighting. “So how about those drinks?”

(Y/N’s Pov)

Hypnos had vanished.

Among the partygoers, he saw Zagreus along with Thanatos and Megarea, sitting on one of the temporary chaise, set out just for the parties. They looked cozy, with their heads close together as they talked in low voices. One of Zagreus’ hands was in Thanatos’, and his thigh pressed against Megarea’s

Y/N didn’t want to interrupt, besides they probably didn’t know where Hypnos disappeared off too.

After making a quick loop, he still didn’t find Hypnos. Unfortunately, he had to work during the celebration, leaving Hypnos by himself. If Hypnos decided to call it an early night, he would usually let Y/N know.

With a frown, he scanned the great hall one last time. He pretended that he also wasn’t looking for another face among the crowd.

Guilt settled deep in his chest. He didn't like this side of himself. He always thought of himself loyal, he didn’t have a problem keeping his dick to himself unlike many others he knew.

Yet, he found himself wanting to talk, to make sure that Genuis- no- No. Reader. He had lost the right to call Reader by the little pet name Y/N gave him so long ago. That had hurt like a knife to the guts. It hurt far more than it should have considering everything.

Sighing in annoyance at himself, he turned to go to Hypnos' chambers when he caught the cast of lights coming from the administration chamber.

No one was supposed to be there right now.

He began walking toward the doors, just one more thing to deal with before getting to see Hypnos. He didn’t know what he would say if he saw it was just you.

It was until he was a few steps away that the sound of laughter reached his ears. Two distinct ones, both of them were so different but wonderful to hear together. He froze in place.

For a moment, he considered being a coward and turning around. He didn’t, his own need to know was far more powerful. He needed to be sure.

Quietly, he pushed the door open just a crack.

Hypnos sitting on your desk, you in your chair, giggling like children. Hypnos’ sleepmask resting on your head, your fingers brushing on the cloth.

“I don’t think I can pull this look off.” You told Hypnos as you returned it. Hypnos placed it back on, resting his cheek on his palm as he leaned closer to you. You began telling Hypnos something but your voice was too low.

The sight of Hypnos and you sitting together, smiling and laughing warmly, was like lightning bolts shooting down his back. The contrast between you and the god was beautiful, the dimness in the room softening the difference, bringing two separate pieces together.

He swallowed.

Hypnos saw him first. His smile grew, bright and cheerful. He also looked quite tipsy. “There you are! All done with work for tonight?”

Reader jolted upward, blinking at him in surprise. You swayed a bit, cheeks flushed red. It was then he saw the four bottles of nectar sitting on the desk. That would explain a lot then.

“I thought I was but then I found two troublemakers.” He teased, trying to hide the shock to his system.

That caused you to scoff and you pointed at him. “Hypnos, did he tell you about the time he nearly got killed by a bull because he kept sneaking out at night?”

Hypnos whipped back to you with a dramatic gasp. “Are you serious right now?”

”Wait- don’t tell him-“ he tried to speak over but you went off, telling Hypnos all the sordid details.

“So after killing the bull, they had to pay the owner for lost income and Y/N had to stay in his parents’ tent for three weeks.” You finished the tale. Both pairs of eyes rested on him.

It caused his guts to twist, a heat clawing up the back of his neck and he scowled at them.

Hypnos shared a pointed glance with Reader, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So him being bull headed isn’t a new thing, then?”

That got a genuine laugh from you. Gods, he had missed it. He shifted, trying to shove the unwelcome thoughts away. He was a grown man, he wasn’t going to play these games.

“Nope.” You replied, giving the ‘p’ a loud pop.

”I don’t like this.” He grumbled, crossing his arms. “Why are you ganging up on me?”

Another shared glance between you and Hypnos and the pair broke down in loud, drunken laughter.

Despite him being the butt of their jokes right now, it warmed something in his stomach to see them getting along. Even if it did take alcohol to help smooth the process.

It didn’t take much coaxing to get Hypnos and You to call it a night. He walked behind them, readying to grab one or both everytime they swayed a little too far. Both of them were chatting over office gossip - One of the shade was leaving to work as a blacksmith, there was a rumor of an affair between two of the HR workers and so on.

It wasn’t until they stopped in front of the Reader’s dorms that they went quiet.

Hypnos shamelessly pulled you into a tight embrace, his cloak enveloped you and him in soft red. You gave Y/N a surprise glance, silently asking and he nodded. If anyone understood the unusual process of becoming friends with Hypnos, it was him.

After a beat of hesitation, you returned it.

A knot formed in his throat. He should have looked away but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to. There was something beautiful in this moment, two halves of his soul embracing under the warm candlelights.

He knew that he would be returning to this memory again and again, saved between quiet heartbeats, admiring a sight that only he got to see.

Hypnos broke the hug, his hands on your shoulders and beamed at you. “Friends?”

Returning Hypnos’ smile, you nodded, carefully not looking at Y/N.

“Friends.”

#wake me from this dreaming #hypnos x male!reader

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