#orpheus alabaster

[walkman-cat]

kinda gay to be a detective etc. etc. you know how it is

[yonemurishiroku]

Headcanon Nico can play the violin and Alabaster knows piano and there's an Orpheus section in Camp Underworld and that's where they sometimes play for the children. A tiny orchestra. Elegant symphonies. melancholy melodies. The same way the Underworld is.

[drksanctuary]

DUMB TSATS predictions before the book comes out and ruins my fun PART 2!!!

1. Nico dies and either Jason or Will has to do trials of Orpheus to get him back

2. Nico becomes a god, and thats the thing he has to lose or whatever re: the prophecy

3. Alabaster will be in it, whether as a protagonist, antagonist or anti-hero, he will be a PROBLEM (and effectively the third party in the quest for a bit)

4. Lou Ellen Will introduce Alabaster to Will and Nico bc they need to learn to mist travel into the underworld and that unfortunately only Al knows how to do. Even though Lou is head of Hecate kids.

5. When Alabaster sees Will and Nico he says he doesn’t like “the creepy one” and it becomes apparent as he describes him that he is referring to Will. “He smiles too much, looks fake, don’t trust him” . Lou is confused by this.

6. This observation sparks an old fight between Will and Nico and how Will doesn’t understand how people perceive Nico as creepy.

7. Al will watch this interaction with interest because he “doesn’t have a television”. Lou will tell him he needs to gain back some social skills

8. Alabaster will mist travel them in a pinch just as Nico gets the hang of it and it throws them all off.

9. Alabaster, Nico and Will travel through the underworld. Al and Will bicker about things (most notably about whether Lotr or Star Wars is the better trilogy)

10. Al and nico have a conversation about saving dead friends. Al says his “heroes never die” line and Nico retorts with a smirk that “we’re Greek that’s all our heroes do”

11. They meet Ethans ghost. The ghost of Ethan also calls Will Creepy, and Al has a heartfelt moment where Ethan tells him that he needs to forgive himself. Al still stubborn doesn’t listen and insists that Ethan should leave with him as a mistform. Ethan asks Al whether he’d do it all again, knowing now that Ethan had turned at the last moment.

12. Will says something to affect about not being able to stop death bc he has unaddressed survivor guilt he’s projecting.

13. Nico does not like this, because he kinda agrees with Al (doesn’t want to address the fact that he’s been thinking about Jason and whether he could save him)

14. They get attacked before Al can finish his convo with Ethan’s ghost. Alabaster has to fend off the threat to give Will and Nico time to get into Tartarus. He says his silly “heroes never die” line ans charges off. Nico calls after him “We’re Greek! That’s like all heroes do!” (This time crying instead of smirking).

15. Will and Nico get to Tartarus and are captured by whatever that thing is bc they think they’re saving Bob. Nico gets to say a bad word as a treat.

16. Bob actually saves them, and Nico asks why he was calling for help. He reveals it wasn’t him. Nico listens and hears another call. He follows it without checking if Will is with him.

17. Isolated Nico gets barraged by the “Listen” warning and Nico finds that it was Akhlys using a “Jason puppet” to lure Nico to her.

18. It’s not a puppet and when this is somehow revealed and Nico says they have to go save Jason.

19. Some sort of battle or showdown with the actual villain whether it’s Akhlys or if Akhlys is working with/for someone else likely the Other Titans . Bob is injured but gets his old memories back. And has to deal with reconciling his new and old friendships

20. When it seems like everything is lost. And Bob has decided to be on their side even tho they are probably all gonna die down in Tartarus. Alabaster returns with a ghost army of purgatory Titan supporters and save Nico and company (alabaster uses this save as definitive proof that Lotr is the superior trilogy as he has in essence “pulled an Aragorn”)

21. Will let’s him have the win, but adds Al could be a son of Apollo with how dramatic he is.

22. Al comments that that would make them brothers.

23. Will cringes and says “I’d rather die”

24. Jason’s ghost is freed. Nico has to actually deal with the fact that he died as well as the fact that he was ignoring that he had feelings for him. Will hears this part.

24. Alabaster has to see all his Titan army friends going off to Elysium bc it’s revealed he somehow got that deal for them for helping Nico. He doesn’t want them to leave bc he doesn’t want to be the sole survivor again but he has to deal with that.

25. Will can’t heal Bob, who is extremely wounded . Will has to deal with that.

26. Essentially all three of them get to deal with their own special flavor of survivor’s guilt. Nico with the they died bc I wasn’t there/couldn’t help them. Will with the i did everything I could to help them and they died anyway and Alabaster with the “it’s my fault they’re dead”kind the thing that is lost is whatever defense mechanism each was using to deal with those traumas

27. This post will not get as much attention as the other one bc it not as funny or amusing (or brief)

28. I might just write the above as a fanfic

I have been thinking about this all way too much you guys. Sorry not sorry.

[wisteriaxxviolet]

WIP #1

Shadow’s Fire (Book One)

“ The same thing that’s in me is also within you.”

It’s was one of the last things Kaleah Brooks’ father told her before he died. Though she survived, the trauma has left her haunted by nightmares and strange gifts that emerged from that night. With no one to turn to, she keeps busy caring for the animals at her local clinic.

When she stumbles upon an injured dog, Kaleah instinctively rushes to his aid. As she nurses the dog back to, she begins to notice strange things about him and her suspicions are confirmed when he reveals his true nature-he’s a hellhound that escaped the capture of a dark sorcerer named Mordrid Black.

Now, Kaleah must rely on her growing connection with Atrius and her friends as they embark on a perilous journey to stop him. Along the way, Kaleah’s hidden abilities begin to emerge, challenging her to confront her past and find the strength she never knew she had.

Character Boards (Main Characters)

Age: 24

Hair: Black and curly, keeps it straightened

Eyes: Dark Brown

Skin: Dark Brown

Ethnicity: African-American

Height: 5’4

Occupation: Veterinary Assistant

A young woman who is kind and compassionate. She though she has alejas been a quiet person, she used to be more open and friendly but became closed off and distant after her father’s death. She spends most of her time working to cope. When she discovers that she is a Sybil, she trains to hone her abilities against the coming threat.

She is an empath; an ability that means she can feel others’ feeling. This is especially useful when she’s working with animals and can calm them. She later develops more abilities like light generation, and healing.

She has a silver cross-shaped necklace that given to her by her father on her 13th birthday.

She likes to watch movies and tv shows and she loves taking walks in the park.

She likes RnB and pop music.

She loves to cook and prefers preparing healthy food but has a sweet tooth. She loves anything with chocolate.

She has two cats, Samson and Dinah.

She lives in a shared space with her roommate, Raven McKnight.

She had two best friends, Olivia Gray and Elishay Watkins.

She also volunteers her time at a local clinic.

Her father, Deacon Brooks, was a veterinarian that ran his own practice before he passed away. Her love of animals was nurtured by him.

Her mother, Verbena Brooks, works at a hair salon.

She has a younger sister, Malani Brooks, who is a high school student. She aspires to do hair like their mother. She also likes graphic design.

Age: 300 (give or take)

Eyes: Red

Hair: Black

Skin: Alabaster (human)

Ethnicity: Unknown

Height: 5’11 (human form)

Occupation: Hellhound Enforcer

A hellhound who is found by Kaleah at a local park. He, and his other two brethren Orpheus and Demetria, were captured by Mordrid Black.

He can manipulate fire and shadows in both his human and hound forms. He can cloak himself in darkness and can use it to give him a hearty constitution.

Though he is ruthless and deadly, Atrius is loyal to a fault. He is very protective of those close to him, often putting his life on the line.

He can be overprotective and can be short tempered.

He is assigned to Eryx Nobokov, a reaper from the underworld.

He considers Orpheus and Demetria as his siblings; they were “born” around the same time and were raised together.

Though he’s lived as a hellhound for a while, he is naive to much of the modern world.

He is very eager to please, especially to those he feels he owes a debt to.

Age: 24

Eyes: Dark brown/purple when channeling

Hair: brown/black with long locs

Skin: Brown

Ethnicity: African-American

Height: 5’7

Occupation: Gahiji

Kaleah’s mysterious roommate. She comes across quiet and aloof, often disappearing for long periods of time and appears at odd hours of the day.

She loves cats and is often seen hanging around them often.

She really likes to drink hot tea and milk.

She is a night owl.

She loves to read and train in her free time.

She dislikes being around crowds and loud people.

Her best friend and partner in crime is Virgil Scott. They’ve known each other for a few years now.

She is protective of Kaleah and tries to keep her at a distance in order to protect her but must come clean about her intentions.

It is later revealed that Raven is a Gahiji-a line of hunters who can channel the powers of the gods of Ra. She can channel the powers of Bastet.

She can create force fields and summon weapons through her enchanted items like her necklace.

She has a tattoo of a cat’s paw above her belly button and an small ankh on her right wrist. She has a sun-disk on her left.

While Channeling, she has enhanced speed and reflexes.

She can create protection runes and repel evil spirits using a magical staff that functions as a sistrum.

She is proficient in hand to hand combat. She likes using knives and swords in fights.

She can also communicate with cats as they are her patron animal.

Age: 26

Eyes: Hazel

Hair: Dark Brown

Skin: tan/light brown

Ethnicity: English/African descent

Height: 5’7

Raven’s best friend and owner of Quaint Keepsakes.

He is sarcastic and quick-witted. Loves to show off his skills.

He is charismatic and very intelligent.

He is very well dressed and loves to collect watches.

Likes fine food and a good drink.

He is a Lumen-A light mage that can generate and manipulate light magic.

His family are descended from a long line of mages and obsessed with “pure” blood.

The Scotts use sigils to channel their innate magic but Virgil is the exception. Only needing when performing complicated rituals or enchantments.

Virgil’s mother is a Sybil; a mixed blood and was ostracized in the community.

Virgil and his family lived normal lives until his abilities as emerged as a child.

Virgil learned all he could and attended a school for young mages when he was in middle school to high school, though he faced many challenges he succeed.

Relocated to the States and runs a shop along with a the owner to house magical objects and a concealed veil.

He becomes a mentor to Kaleah help her hone her growing abilities.

Age: Unknown

Hair: White ( Locs)

Eyes: Blue green

Skin: Tan

Occupation: Grim Reaper

A reaper of the damned. His main job is to gather souls of the damned and bring them to the underworld. He often sends hellhounds to chase the stubborn ones or ones that have escaped.

Eryx can take any form in the human world.

Though he doesn’t care much for humans, though he is intrigued by Kaleah and her role in his mission.

He is straightforward and honest; often comes across as blunt and unfeeling.

He also likes music, especially classical and operatic music.

He has a soft spot for children.

He has enhanced senses and physical strength and speed.

He can contain souls using telekinesis and other containment magic though most is channeled through his scythe.

He wields a scythe that can change forms and it can be used to control hellhounds and open portals.

Age: Unknown

Hair: Black and short

Eyes: Blue

Skin: Pale

Ethnicity: Unknown

Occupation: Dark Sorcerer

A shadow summoner who acquires a great power the allows him summon daeva and other creatures.

Not much is known about his past; he’s a prodigy that became obsessed with acquiring more power and elongating his life.

He is unforgiving and has little mercy for those who gets in his way.

Is the main antagonist and threat to Kaleah and her friends.

[fvriva]

🐖 for 099! What is that Test tube baby up to...

putting this under a readmore because I have 3 whole guys I'm working on at once lol

send me an oc + an emoji (or order the WHOLE HOG)

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

When I was going through and filing off the serial numbers for IAE, I really wanted to try and edgy number name for this test tube baby. Stranger Things was really big at the time so that's where my head was at for 099. As for the number itself I was also really into B99 at the time. I also have a name for them after they escape the lab and start to have their own life, officially speaking, it's Rose, but I'm not married to it. I just want something nature themed that fits.

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

Given their self-propogation, abandonment, and regeneration history that's a very sticky question. They seem like they're in their late teens though.

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

One so far, their rescuer, Orpheus Alabaster.

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

They've never eaten food in the traditional sense (outside of the nutritious slurry they grew up in, and the decomposing bodies part of it) but they would probably really enjoy a very crisp sweet onion bitten into directly.

💼 - What do they do for a living?

They're a lab rat and a horribly traumatized one at that. They're teetering on becoming a supervillain honestly.

��� - Do they have any hobbies?

Not really within the slurry. Swimming around, harvesting protein, just kind of the same degree of stimulation of a shark in a poorly-run aquarium. Once they get out, though, they'd fall in love with the world. I could see them keeping a little garden.

🎯 -What do they do best?

They don't really have any skills outside of their natural ability to heal. I suppose in a dark sort of way they also cope with boredom shockingly well.

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

Once out, they love to walk around and see new places. They'd especially love going to zoos, botanical gardens, and museums, even though they can't read the plaques.

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

Once out, Orpheus comes back for them and after they're stable enough to be out in public (it'll takes a while), he puts them in their chair and they both go to a little restaurant with a beautiful little terrace and view of the city.

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

Back when they were still in the tank, Orpheus stole a ship to try and go get help, but something went wrong with the launch, and they didn't fully comprehend what it was he was doing, so from their perspective the first face they'd seen in their entire life had for all intents and purposes died as he was trying to leave them.

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

Nope! Once again, the serial numbers were filed off. The main changes have been to their hair and outfit; their hair used to be short and brown, and their suit and more swimsuit-like than their current wetsuit look.

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

Mostly Stranger Things, honestly, but the original thing to inspire this OC was me trying to create a universe in which [Fictional Character A] and [Fictional Character B] were destined to meet in every universe, but [B] was destined to die. This was an intended reversal where [A] was the doomed one. As for who A and B were originally, well, if you know you know.

🌂 - What genre do they belong in?

Hard scifi but they kind of lend themself to a short story format.

💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

Agender but eventually they'll start to become a little more genderfluid as they start to see what's out there. They're pretty touch-repulsed so that's a no to sex.

🙌 - How many sibling does your OC have?

Do clones count as siblings? Especially if you were the only one to survive, and you've never known them personally? In which case, 98 siblings.

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

The scientists in charge of 099's cloning project were absent for the entirety of their life. The parents of the original child that 099 is a distant clone of (Eurydice) are also dead.

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

Honestly it's 75% the angst and 25% the prospect of healing for 099. I also have machinations where they're a series antagonist for IAE that I'm hoping will come to fruition, eventually.

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

I've been drawing them more recently! I got into an art show with an illustration of them. I don't really write for them though because frankly they're very strong as just a fucked up set of given circumstances.

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

I don't think I'd be able to.

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

Claustrophobia and fear of abandonment, especially once Orpheus enters their life. Once they're out, they probably would also not be all that fond of large pools of water.

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

They don't really have one. They're kind of their worst enemy honestly because they're just not doing well.

🎓 - How long have you had the OC?

The timestamps on my oldest artworks of them are from 2017.... Jesus. That's almost 7 full years.

🍥 - What age were you when you created the OC?

16 years old!

[zoebelladona]

hello hello !! this is me inviting you talk about your titan army ocs (if you want to ofc) !!!!

i always want to talk abouy my titan army ocs. i love them so much i plucked them out of pjo and now i'm writing an entire original work with them as the main characters. but that's a conversation for my main blog @encrucijada

the ocs are part of an ongoing au/rp between me, @on-the-river-lethe and a friend of ours who's not on tumblr. we each created an oc to play as and things unravelled from there. this is going under a read more because boy there's a lot

piedad narváez (my oc). daughter of urania, muse of astronomy. they/she. claimed soon after arriving to camp, has an okay relationship with her mum but only because she's an only daughter lol powers are orpheus-like in that whenever she plays music they can entrance people, can also navigate using the stars. then while doing research i realised urania had a prophetic aspect and now piedad sometimes receives premonitions when looking at the stars. weapon of choice are knives and has a violin as a support item for the music stuff, the bow of which turns into a stiletto knife.

hudson moretti (fluffy's oc). son of hypnos, god of sleep. he/him. big guy but a huge softy, a sleepy jock if that's a thing. less than having a bad relationship with hypnos he just doesn't have a relationship with him at all lmao because hypnos is bad at checking in on his kids. has the standard kid of hypnos powers like inducing sleep and also dreamwalking and dream discarding. uses a sword as weapon. him and piedad obviously stayed at the hermes cabin and they were sort of the de-facto counsellors of the claimed kids with no cabin. everyone uses him as a pillow because he makes sleeping safe and cosy.

ericka mulligan (oc of our other friend). daughter of demeter, goddess of harvest. she/her. starts out as the counsellor of cabin 4 until deserting before som. demeter favoured her for being the counsellor but everyone in cabin 4 knows mum will never love you as much as she loves persephone. the "manager" of the team, in a way, she has a schedule and a list for everything. standard demeter kid powers like plant growing, etc. i actually have no idea what her weapon is?? gotta look it up. one-sided crush on luke rip. would have put her hands on the fire for him.

adam rubio (another oc of mine). son of apollo, god of music. he/him. i specify god of music because adam got the music aspect of his dad's attributes, if he sings or plays an instrument he can do all sorts of things ranging from inducing sleep to inducing pain. has no opinion of apollo one way or another. not actually part of the titan army! he stays behind and it's a huge conflict with the others. main weapon is the recurve bow but knows how to use a sword for survival reasons.

allegra anders (npc). daughter of tyche, goddess of fortune. she/her. she and her twin sister rachel were staples in cabin 11, until rachel joined the titan army and left allegra behind. haven't really explored her character in depth but i know she has a special coin she fidgets with a lot.

robin holloway (npc). daughter of hebe, goddess of youth. she/her. another staple of cabin 11, doesn't join the titan army just like allegra. hudson's ex-girlfriend lmao probably the nicest girl you will ever meet. we wanted conflict and also to populate camp with more "older" demigods, that's why these two girls are here.

and we also did stuff like ageing up malcolm pace to be luke's age and now he is the counsellor of cabin 6 because annabeth was literally 12 in tlt. she's co-counsellor due to being a lot more proactive than malcolm. and we also aged up alabaster torrington to be one or two years younger than luke, just because i doubt a bunch of demigods in their 20s would have been like "yeah let that 15yo participate in meetings". we always saw the titan army as more a congregation of young adults than teenagers, basically the demigods who've been here too long and are tired. not featured here are some "name only" background characters like counsellors for other cabins, because we stuck to what annabeth says in tlt about all counsellors except her being of college age. in our take of pjo these counsellors would leave for the army and leave their teenage siblings at the head of the cabins, which would be the counsellors we see throughout pjo

okay with the stage set now let me Actually talk about these guys

@on-the-river-lethe (aka fluffy) and i have done most of the work here. our other friend isn't as insane about pjo lmao. on top of the changes to some ages and whatnot we also did a crucial change regarding luke's quest mates not dying in the garden of the hesperides, instead he is accompanied by piedad and hudson who are both brutally injured by ladon. luke gives up the chance to take the golden apple while ladon is distracted more or less killing his friends to help them. piedad does lowkey die and while passed out receives a premonition of luke with golden eyes. we have an overview of how the quest goes and to add insult to injury hermes sent luke on a fetch quest just to keep him from getting antsy, it wasn't for anything heroic.

things go back to business as usual with all three of them baring the scars of the failed quest, it hits luke the worst. when kronos starts stirring things up in his brain ericka, hudson and piedad don't follow because of kronos but because they believe in luke. luke is their friend, luke is the best of them, luke is the poster-child hero, if anyone can bring change it's luke. ericka and hudson abandon camp before the events of som, piedad sticks around. the premonition is worrying and they're not sure what to do about it. but life at camp without her friends becomes unbearable. she's just another cabin-less demigod in cabin 11, she's a low risk cabin-less demigod in cabin 11. before the events of ttc she makes the switch fully.

because we discovery write a lot of the details i can't say exactly what happens while they are all in the titan army proper. i know piedad doesn't desert camp until the battle in camp at the end of botl, they'd gone back in the summer to be a spy. we know that when luke suggests bailing on everything once he realises kronos used him hudson in particular gets on his case about it (slams luke against a wall) and yells at him about how they risked everything for him, he can't run now, they won't leave every demigod that believes in them to die. we know they go with luke to see may castellan and she grabs piedad by the shoulders and yells about luke's fate to her face. piedad had kept the premonition to themself this whole time and luke, obviously fed up about his fate being kept from him, snaps.

i have written a couple of one-shots for this. i have one about piedad having a conversation with kronos where she bluffs about him getting to the throne room in olympus and luke dying (she was right) and probably has some of my favourite quotes. one of the immediate aftermath of the garden of the hesperides where apollo warns her against telling luke. this monstrosity about adam, the son of apollo mentioned above, who took over my brain and is set after the events of tlo.

(we call the group of luke, ericka, hudson and piedad the "generals" btw.)

the aftermath of everything is a little clearer than the actual events within pjo. ericka, hudson and piedad move to chicago where hudson is from. they stay with hudson's mum for a while before getting their own place. they are pretty much war criminals now, son of magic style, and the olympian council wants them out of the picture. they may not be children of the big 3 dangerous but they did grow in power while being generals of the army. they did not stay to receive any possible pardons or sentence, following the battle of manhattan they simply fled. apollo offers piedad a position as a sibyl, due to her prophetic abilities, it's not a pardon of any kind but it is a bit of protection as harming an oracle is strictly forbidden. they never set foot in camp again.

i like to picture them as a possible pit-stop during tlh. jason, piper and leo would be running from a monster and see this neon sign advertising a sibyl of all things and offering card readings. they go inside and what they find are former titan army soldiers. a guy drinking a large cup of coffee. lots of plants everywhere. and the sibyl is a short scarred enby.

not everything is set in stone and we have much to explore still, like morpheus (hudson's brother) siding with kronos. ericka probably never spoke to demeter ever again, or more like demeter never spoke to her again after she disappointed her so. and just because this is our au and we can do whatever, the generals meet nico and form a bit of a relationship with him. not that we need an excuse apart from "fluffy and i really like nico and we want our ocs to interact with him", but it does fit nico's tendency to just be in on everyone's business. and i think it would be hilarious if he knew about the generals, was friends with them, stayed at their place sometimes, and just never mentioned it at chb.

uh. what else. um... piedad/adam is a thing because i wanted my daughter of a muse oc to have a thing going with a son of apollo. we made malcolm/hudson a thing and it's amazing. i could talk for hours about adam, but right now i'll say he becomes head counsellor of cabin 7 after lee fletcher dies in botl (lee in our version would have been a veteran camper, older than luke).

man this ran long oops. sorry for mostly talking about my oc, it's because they're my oc. i talk even more over on my main blog, about the pjo versions but also the original versions (the worldbuilding is based on dreams).

so, yeah!

thank you for asking <3 sorry you released the flood

[chaosheadspace]

I started the final chapter of my fic I'll go to sleep and dream again in earnest today . Yay! Have a snippet from chapter 4.

When he wakes, Dream finds himself much like yesterday, surrounded by comfortable warmth. Unlike yesterday, there is the added pressure of limbs tangled around his own, the firm source of heat right in front of him, nose pressed against it and filled with the most irresistible smell. Oh, he wants to distil and cork it like the most precious wine from the star-ripened grapes of the Dreaming. Wants to fill rows and rows of shelves in his cellar with it, until it takes up as much space as his library, to drink it everyday, to fill his bath with it. He'd gladly fall into the life of a worthless drunkard, to have it consume him and fill his senses always. Still shrouded by the slow softness of sleep he scoots closer and breathes deep.

The body against his must be Hob, he realises, as his brain gets clearer, waking up more fully. Like with the soup, his body wants, unbidden, uncontrolled, selfish. It is so different from any form he has ever given himself, not in the perception of others, perhaps, but in his own perception of the world. His shape in the waking world usually is like a thin fabric draped over his essence, no more agency and sensitivity than a drawing on a stone wall, everything directly perceived by him.

Now, the world is filtered through flesh and senses, and yet it feels sharper, enhanced by having a living body, it's input always occupying a portion of his mind. He lets himself feel it for a moment, to have a body that wants, not just an enraptured mind, revels in it. But he can't have this, can't allow himself to want it, not for himself, not from Hob. Not when he had put him down so cruelly after Hob had seen through him the last time, had seen his want for companionship. He had denied himself then, the wound of past closeness ripped open again, beating red and bloody, Nada, Calliope, Orpheus, had refused to add Hobs name to them. Only much later, enclosed in glass and stripped of everything but his own thoughts, had he realised that in his refusal he had done so regardless.

He would not allow himself to endanger their fragile understanding like that again. Because Hob had come for him nonetheless, offered help and touch and food, as if Dream had never left him like that. Shame burns in him like a hot stone and he opens his eyes to look at Hob's sleeping face. The stone rises up to sit in his throat, and with his chin tilted up to see he tries out the words that scald his tongue. “I am sorry,” he says experimentally, barely audible. Raising his hand to hover undecidedly over Hobs temple, eyes taking in the shape of his nose and brows and closed lashes, Dream tries again: “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

Something builds in his chest and he wants to touch so badly, so he does, setting his alabaster palm against Hob's darker cheekbone. With a faint sound Hob turns his face into Dreams hand and suddenly Dream is terrified of the prospect of Hob waking up, having heard what he'd said. But he doesn't, he just turns and mumbles and stills again. Dream, terribly aware of his own cowardice, is grateful. “I am sorry," he whispers one last time, “I promise I will eventually be courageous enough to tell you when you are awake. I promise.”

[walkman-cat]

while it’s not exactly a projects it is a story i think about and work on a lot wbwbw (i hope it counts)

(also this is going under a cut because it is long i am sorry. )

EIDOLON VETCH follows kit allister (alias hermes vetch— pickpocket, jack-of-all-trades, sole follower of the dead god of deceit) who decides to solve the decade-old disappearance of her not-quite girlfriend’s best friend, becoming the assistant to her sworn brother’s partner (in detection! not in romance. yet) in order to find leads/clues/anything that could help her.

the problem? hermes vetch is a notorious gentleman thief, and orpheus alabaster (the detective, also general wet cat of a person) is the only person who ever got close to unmasking him. and now kit has to stay close to her new employer without clueing him into their History (which is really hard, when you’re mutually obsessed with each other and the last time you interacted was right before you were shot in front of him).

as kit works more with orpheus, she begins to realise some things:

he and orpheus are more similar than he thought

orpheus is hiding things. big things. things that may be relevant to the mystery kit’s trying to solve

it ALSO follows cecil meyers (kit’s sworn brother— wannabe artist, ex-newsboy, gossip) as he meets and becomes partners (in detection) with orph. it’s mostly shenanigans and cases and how it’s Kinda Gay To Be A Detective and also finding out that your best friend/partner/the person you’ve been pining over for years isn’t quite alive and is also kind of a dead and forbidden god. it’s complicated.

it’s got dead gods who are also alive but only because of extraneous circumstances! turn of the century (19th-20th) fashion!! accidental trans allegory! history (and forgotten history)!! people who aren’t dead but also aren’t quite alive either!! worldbuilding for a city that i Still Haven’t Named Yet!! godhood fucking up your sense of self!!

but mostly it’s just kind of a love letter to the gentleman thief and detective genres. because i am Normal about them.

elevator pitch me!!!!! tell me about ur projects!!!! hiiii

[walkman-cat]

here’s an orph i doodled to test edits i made to my usual brush wbwbw!!

[cinalilli]

yes i made his last name “smaps” u got an issue with that

some ottos  infinitites that i needed to hammer the colors down for

[pagiecakewritesstuff]

7. MORPHEUS|DREAM OF THE ENDLESS X READER|OC

Assorodus meaning "silvery water".

Purpose may or may not exist, depending on our personal ideologies. The Endless know better though, they saw the entity prowling the lands before the beginning of history, and it was older than them. Not by much, a few eons maybe, arriving after the birth of the universe we know. For this being was strong and withered the coldness of the void until everything was created. First of Writers, the name it was given, for the inherent purpose of every breathing thing had to be formed in words. Whether we believe in it or not.

SERIES MASTERLIST  

I knew him for so long by then with all of his secrets, the hidden corners of his soul and he mapped out mine all the same. The thought of knowing something that he did not was absurd, the feeling like a thorn in my side, aching with every breath. The truth just tried to force itself out to the open from behind the bars of my teeth, especially in his proximity. Yet I made a promise to his brother before he left his post, leaving behind his realm, his purpose. I let him take my writing then, it was a gift after all. And he was too close to my heart to take it back.

I retreated to Destiny's domain, for he was the only one who shared my clandestine secret. Alongside him I walked the many paths of his garden, his face obscured by his white, tattered hood. We conversed about what was to come.

"You have declared unlikely promises in the past centuries." He pointed out to me, the chain of his hefty book clinking with the rhythm of our strides, the gravel grating beneath our feet. "And moreover I noticed that you tend to put your duties behind these vows of adoration when the occasion calls for it.

"You are to call me feckless, Destiny?" The languid breeze fluttered between the folds of our robes, his alabaster, mine a deep burgundy red. "Albeit I think there is little harm in my agreement with your brother."

"Your words tie you to two of my brothers, which one do you mean?"

"The younger one."

Destruction, even while abandoning his role, was the least problematic after Destiny, out of all the sons of Time. I had trusted him to make his own choices, if he wanted to go it had to be. At least accorded by the Endless walking next to me. "He was adamant you know?"

Of course, he did.

"You have given too much hope to Dream." He announced, leading the conversation. My advantage in years didn't count in the presence of Destiny. Sometimes I wondered if he was born with an older spirit than mine.

"By telling him that I will stay by his side?"

"Yes." His shackle glinted in the sunlight. Not a speck of rust, as if the years didn't count in his domain.

"I said that ages ago." When Orpheus met his fate. "I'm not always with him anyways. I have a role to fill."

"Staying by his side doesn't necessarily mean that the two of you are physically residing on the same plane." Correcting me he took a quick glimpse in his leather-bound tome. "It means that you are at ready when he has need of you. And that is a dangerous promise to give anyone. Especially looking at your significance in the universe."

"I can deny his call if I wish to do so." Now that was a lie, because I couldn't imagine a situation where I would have ignored him. I learned that all too well.

"There will be a time when you will not be able to get to him, whether you would want to or not." He informed me, speaking of the future.

"When will this happen?"

"Soon, for the days are mere seconds for our kind." We halted.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"To let you prepare. It might seem like my interior is cold, but I too have a heart and it would fill with sorrow upon seeing a friend suffer." Even for his blindness, I felt his deeply penetrating gaze. "He will come to you today and ask questions."

I supposed he would. And I knew what I had to do.

"I will say nothing to him." I breathed, an oath made with incredible difficulty. "Thank you Destiny."

The nails of Mazikeen dig into my skin, forming bruised indents, but I'm unattached from the reality of the situation, swimming in the muddy bliss of relief, slowly drowning. Like a distant echo throbbing behind my eyeballs, I repeat the chant, a mantra that was meant to be, that someone wrote for me a long time ago, louder than anything else. I saved him, I saved him, I saved him... Nothing else matters from now, whether he emerges victorious or falls, Hell cannot grasp him in its claws. It's an out-of-body experience, poisonous like the fens bordering Fairy lands, yet I'm drunk for it, I swallow it up until it's all oblivion.

My teary smile collides with his dreaded expression, horror clinging to his features upon understanding what he agreed to. I find him soo beautiful like this, in his fear he is more human than anything else I've ever seen before, raw, torn down to a deeply biological level of panic, composed of micro signs all screaming out to me. It's mesmerising. Carnal. Expertly hidden behind his mask that he keeps up for most, like a marble face carved before history, mimicking the features of a god, yet still human. For he being godlike lies in his hidden humanity, an aspect of him that he likes to deny time and time again.

He doesn't suspect it, but by that one look, he splinters my ribcage, pierces my lungs and wrenches my heart out, holding it as it beats on, bloody and happy. Singing in rhythmic thumps of life. I don't ask him to give it back. Through the hole in my chest, all suffused feelings erupt, flowing freely.

Tugging sharply on my tethering consciousness Matthew hops to my feet as Mazikeen lets me go. Shakily I kneel to the ground, the sudden turn of Lucifer accepting the challenge still registering.

"He is going to win right?" The raven flaps his wings. I fail to answer him the first time so he asks again. "Right?"

"I'm uncertain." Stuttering, my thoughts run wild. What befell Morpheus drained his strength, reclaiming the sand only restored a mere amount of it. "However, he must not suffer for me. I will stop the fight if he does."

"What? No." Matthew ruffles his feathers, sending down quilts fluttering around in every direction. He is anxious. "That would mean..."

"That I stay here, yes." I hold his gaze, my mind being cemented in the present again. Step after step. If it comes to it Morpheus has to go on without me. "He will try to convince you to return to the Dreaming, but do not obey him. I need you here. You will make him leave in case he is defeated."

"This is nonsense, " he retorts, snapping his beak. "We will not leave you here."

"Please." I pet his head and he goes silent. "Do this for me, Matthew."

Mutely the bird nods, then fly off to his master, landing in front of him as molten leather pours over Dream's body, dark as night, blackened by the flames of his ire. Now he hates the Morningstar and the daemon Choronzon. Maybe he hates me too, for offering myself instead of him. Good. May this fuel him in the battle he is about to fight. While he talks to Matthew his eyes stray to me repeatedly as if making sure I'm not sucked off into some pit in Hell suddenly ordered by Lucifer. Faintly I hear his chant too.

I will not leave you, I will not leave you, I will not leave you...

Rumbling powers strain against each other as the duel begins. Matthew finds refuge on the architrave above me, his conversation with Morpheus seemingly unfruitful. At least he stays. I'm glad.

The first move is Lucifer's, they set the meter. I breathe in deeply, steeling myself for what's to come, then enter the plane of their battle, beyond realities and all things known. It's the oldest game, as I'm familiar with it, a contest of imagination and wit. I watched many play out in the olden ages, so I have practice in hiding myself between their thoughts of offence as a mere spectator.

The dark abyss brings forth the surroundings of my creation until my feet hit solid ground. A direwolf unfolds from the darkness, fur rising on its back, lethal prowler, stalking a prey yet invisible to me. As a defence against the advancing predator, a hunter, mounted on a warm-blooded steed, charges the beast, arrow nocked, ready to fire. The wolf, stabbed and bleeding, spreads in the dirt and crumbles to dust, from which a serpent shoots out, horse-biting. The stallion neighs in alarm as the poisoned teeth sink into its flesh keenly, ready to kill. The rush of venom gives birth to a bird of prey. A hooked beak and ripping talons soar through the air, circling me before taking on the snake. The turns blur into each other, but I know the eagle was him, as I only let him perceive me, staying hidden from the Lightbringer. Having little time to relish in his victory, the bird pummels into the ground, warm-life destroyed.

Blades of grass rouse from nothingness, the scene shifts into rolling hills and plains that I'm acquainted with and colourful speckles of flowers spring towards the Sun. It's his field of flowers, the one I gave him with my prose, healing slowly but steadily, being accumulated with flora. In the distance I see two hazy figures laying by each other. A memory. Through the veil of the duel he searches for my eyes, I let him find them. Sweet Mnemosyne, so he remembers still of our bliss from the age when all was well and the upcoming injuries of history didn't concern us. My heart swells.

In blinding agony this small sphere of safety is cremated by an all-exploding nova, rendering the landscape into the dreary image of Hell. Dream stumbles onto the ashes, weak and burnt, uttering his turn to the scorched earth. A swirling universe replaces the destruction, encompassing stars and honing all of creation. I hear my song sounding from thousands of sources, plain and aural. Then the creeping quietness murders it all, anti-life mars the colours grey and black.

I separate myself from the doom, just as Morpheus collapses, arms cradling his sides, unable to catch himself. On instinct, I throw myself towards him as he now shivers on the floor, skin cold and clammy. I lower myself to him, place his head upon my lap and he fists the hem of my coat, desperate for warmth.

"I..." he writhes in pain, succumbing to the deadly bite of the anti-life, as he attempts to push himself up. He wants to fight on, so I press my palm against his forehead, soothing. Matthew lands next to us.

"It's all right." Caressing his cheek I aim to give him a genuine, calming smile, one that is not tainted with fear, and he trembles. A tear slips from his eye. "Let this go, don't hurt for me."

"No." He curls around himself, around me. "Not..."

"My heart will be with you Dream, as promised." It's a bold statement to remind him, it's against everything I've forbidden myself, but I can't bear the sight of him defeated. "Leave me and don't suffer."

Lucifer towers above us, booming with anticipated victory.

"Still with us Dream?"

Matthew answers before I can, emboldened and eager to protect. A good companion.

"He is, and it's his move." Then he quails and adds, "Your Majesty." 

"There are no more moves." The Lightbringer ogles us on the ground before their boots, enthralled by the sight. "What can survive the anti-life?" 

Morpheus moans my name, dripping with agony, drawing my eyes to his lips, slowly turning blue as tremors ransack his lithe frame.

"For you, I have to."

"You have done enough, Dream of the Endless." I brush his hair back, falling over his brow. "Tend your fields of flowers, keep them in bloom for me."

"Boss, listen to me." Matthew inches closer, wings fluttering agitatedly. "You know what can survive the anti-life? You. Dreams don't fucking die. Not if you believe in them."

A prose springs into mind, one written of the old, yet new, albeit already forgotten, as if it never happened. It reflects our dire situation like it's meant to be.

"Let me tell you a story, for you are it's Prince." I prop his head up and he nuzzles against my stomach, icy and drained. I lean over him, enclosing him in my embrace, shutting Hell and all of its twisted darkness out. My voice drops low, not even Matthew can hear what I am saying. "Imagine a vessel, it floats through a universe, vast like ours, yet devoid of life, courtesy of a rampaging star-vortex. You are there too, carrying the remainder of your ream and you put your faith into this little girl, departed, but still ghostly around. This girl dreams and others dream with her. Say her name, for you told her you would."

And then, in his eyes I see the shine of remembrance, the faded memory unearths from the depths of his mind. Morpheus nods, gathering strength and I help him sit up first.

"I am..." Relying on me heavily he stands, knees buckling. "Hope."

Overwhelming ethereal light floods the room, dainty as it pours over the columns, so blinding in its reflection on the marble that I have to shield my eyes from it while Morpheus turns to hide in the crook of my neck, his rough breaths grazing over my pulse. We stand fused together in this luminescent storm, withering its forces.

"Hope." The jovial grin wipes from Lucifer's face, which instead fills with incredulity.

"Well, Lightbringer?" Morpheus holds onto me, as If I were the greatest prize for his victory, not his helm. Hell will not take me today. "It's your move. What is it that kills hope?"

Lucifer struggles to form a response, they are shocked into utter defeat.

"Choronzon, give him his helm!"

While the matter is being settled, as the daemon is not easily parted from his newfound treasure, I feel Dream's eyes dragging across my features, his short, still somewhat ragged exhales trailing along the edge of my mouth. It's a sentiment of his, angling himself to such an intimate closeness in public, a way to thank me. He bends towards me, his weight still supported by my arms, he needs time to recover.

"Your helm is waiting for you," I tell him and he reluctantly stands up straight to take back what is rightfully his. Matthew reclaims his spot on my shoulder.

"He did it!" The bird exclaims gleefully. "I knew he will win."

"Indeed." But something onerous lies behind all of this. I have shown myself to him today in a manner that I shouldn't have allowed and I can't take that back. I'm not sure I would even if I had the power to alter the happenings of today. 

Maybe it's time to let myself have a little freedom, a little love over the weight of my role.

"Writer," Lucifer calls, menacing and aggravated. Dream stands in the entryway, his helm tucked to his side. "Might I have a word with you?"

Morpheus heaves, ready to interrupt, but I stop him with a subtle flick of my wrist. He knows what I mean, so I signal Matthew to join his master.

"Very well," I say. "The duel is decided, you cannot possibly find a way to contain me here for now, isn't that right Morningstar?"

"The Dream Lord and his raven may leave." Wavering slightly Dream does so. "You will meet them outside the gates."

"What do you want Lucifer?" My words have an unmissable bite to them.

"I ask you again for the right that is mine."

"Which is?" The fires flare up around us, Lucifer fumes.

"The control over my purpose. Surely that's not a huge request for you. After all, I left plenty of time to ponder over it."

"My answer still stands." I brush off their requisition. "May Hell prosper Lucifer Morningstar, farewell to you."

"We will be at the ready." Their voice ripples after me, down the corridors, recited by the walls like an ill omen. "First sign of weakness and you are ours."

I remember Destiny's words and I fear the Lightbringer's curse, but the only thing I can do is to pray that the day of my fall adjourns until I have a secure plan to prevent it.

Morpheus lingers by the gate we entered Hell through. He is still clad in leather, his features creased by the exhaust of the battle, yet he perks up when I approach, expectant and relieved. My brow gently collides with his and we melt into each other in the barren hellscape. He shivers against me, his breaths failing to come out as whole. For a moment we can rest, his hand sneaking around my torso, pulling me closer. I can smell his strain, the sweat of his endure, yet it's sweet, comforting. I feel like in his grasp I could brave all the horrors of the universe.

"You can't risk yourself for me like this again." His timbre rumbles in his chest. "The thought of it is too heavy on my mind."

I snuggle into his embrace, warm and safe, revulsion overshadowed by the pleasure of his touch. I saved him. He saved me in return. 

"I would like to talk about us. Properly for once. What do you say?" He asks sanguinely. "I feel like..."

"Your feelings are right," I admit. "We should talk."

He smiles the smallest of smiles, truer than anything I saw from him in recent years.

"Meet me in the Dreaming then." He pulls away, breathing kisses to my half-lidded eyes, one to each of them. "Rest and I shall come back to you with my ruby, my power restored."

"I'll await your return, Morpheus."

He disappears with Matthew in a whorl of sand and ash, the promise of our conversation nestled into my soul. It's a good feeling, uplifting. I wouldn't change it. 

[namiisei]

I have survived (not really). I am in the 'few' now and back here.

Explanation: A few days ago, I dreamt of Nicobaster (more like I was Nico or Nico's POV). I love the tragedy of Orpheus and Eurydice so it was not shocking that I dreamt about it.

It was a test. Something along the lines of Nico (me) trapped somewhere dark and suffocating (akin to the jar), and Alabaster's ghost appeared. He was running, and Nico, scared and weak, followed Al without knowing anything. The son of Hades begged and pleaded for the son of Hecate to notice him and turn to him to no avail.

And when they are near their exit, Alabaster whipped his head back to look at Nico (me) and I woke up!

I woke up in tears

Disappeared for a week or so. Will be back in a few. For now have this idea that came from a dream.

Nicobaster as Orpheus and Eurydice

Thank you for my TedTalk

[fluoresensitivearchived]

hi, yah yah ❣️ apologies if you’ve already talked about this before but i was wondering what your favourite romantic tropes/ elements in fiction are? i personally enjoy when romance and horror coexist in a tale, and i love the way some of your stories have touched on that link. anyway, hope your day’s going pleasant!

I haven't! And God, yes, I really love the idea of romance and horror being two sides of the same coin, and I love that every Good horror story is also a romantic one! Some other romantic tropes in fiction that I adore are;

The entire concept of soulmates, especially soulmates that are made and are sustained throughout lifetimes. First example that comes to mind is Howl's Moving Castle, then The Old Guard, and you know what... The Broken Earth trilogy, platonically with Essun and Alabaster

I love when death isn't the end. I love when love does not stop at the grave. To quote Odette Ain't no grave can hold my body down, wahoooo!

I'm so easy, I see nemeses and enemies with very similar backgrounds and views starting to fall in love because they are each other's polar opposite and I lose my whole shit. Love an enemies to lovers, love to see people go from homoerotic swordfights to straight up gay kissing, amirite kids?

Utterly obsessed with the idea of going through actual hell to retrieve somebody. Orpheus and Eurydice hive make some noise, please. Something other than pained groaning.

Revenge... Now, follow me on this journey. There's nothing quite as romantic as revenge, both in the enemies-AND-lovers sense and in the sense of vengeance for your lover. I like to see a lil gay stabbing to repay another gay stabbing as much as I like to see an Achilles killing Hector for killing his one true love, Patroclus, you feel me?

[jflashandclash]

Attrition of Peace

Twenty-Six: Alabaster

Cock-Blocked by a Talking Head

 Warning! There’s a mildly grotesque… thing (?) in this chapter. I’m not really sure it needs a warning or what that warning would fall under, but… you’ve been warned? Regardless, I hope you enjoy! Or love to hate it after the events of that last chapter! Your choice!

               Alabaster hadn’t faced such a paralyzing conundrum in years: if he stood up, he might wake up Kally, but if he stayed where he was, he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Being this considerate was highly illogical.

               What he should have been thinking about was what other ingredients he could mix that shape shifter’s ear with to make a more poignant transmodifcation potion or what he was going to do with the Pax brothers and their band of Ol-Sissies in the morning. In particular, how he was supposed to feed them, considering he remembered Axel tearing through half a box of cereal before Alabaster had his morning tea steeped.

               But here he was: his heart panging erratically each time he or Kally moved in their shared sleeping bag. He didn’t know this girl. Well, he sort of knew her—he’d read her journal, about her mother, her adventures with the Pax brothers and her story ideas. But that shouldn’t have been enough. He wasn’t like Ajax, just falling in love—er—liking—er—infatuating over someone because. He had to think things through. They had to make sense.

               This must have been Eros’ or Aphrodite’s folly. He refused to be their puppet, or fall to the whims of—

               Until Kally shivered and he debated whether or not he should shift closer or put an arm around her. Was that horrendously inappropriate?  

               Relief came to him in the worst way possible: the sound of a guitar, a wretched song, and some shriek-mutterings.

               “Oh, Jack must have escaped,” Alabaster muttered, wanting to groan.

               “Escaped?” Kally asked, her voice too alert to have been sleeping. She sat up, and Alabaster saw their chance to go inside, though he couldn’t will himself to get up. He felt dumb for how much he liked sitting beside her. From the disconcerted look on her face, she might have been thinking the same thing.

               “Claymore and I keep him gagged and locked up for safekeeping,” he said. With assigning everyone a room and everything with Pax, he’d forgotten their nightly ritual of detaining Jack. Plus, at Camp Othrys, they didn’t have to, and Alabaster couldn’t help but feel nostalgia with the Pax brothers around.

               At her disturbed stare, Alabaster assured, “He should be okay. When he’s alone, he normally just wanders around the yard composing ballads—”

               Someone shouted. After a delay of recognition, Alabaster and Kally locked eyes. That had been Ajax, his voice weakened from sobbing. Had there been other shouting? Alabaster had been so focused on Kally, he’d written off other sounds as the neighbors.

               A loud split, like thunder had torn a crater in the earth, cracked in the air. The ground trembled once.

               They shoved the sleeping bag away and scrambled to their feet. Neither was armed—they should have gone inside for weapons earlier. He had extra spell prepared on his pants but…

               Alabaster stumbled when one of the runes on his pajama pants glowed brilliant green. He gritted his teeth.

               Kally grabbed Alabaster’s arm to help pull him up. “What’s that?!” she asked, her eyes searching the yard for Pax.

               “Someone is trying to break through my barrier,” he hissed.

               A very powerful someone. He could feel the Mist twisting to the command of another.

               “Are there any children of Hecate after you?” he demanded. This was almost as bad as Lamia.

               Kally shook her head. “N-no. Uh—unless—I think Leo’s girlfriend could do magic? Was the original Calypso a child of Hecate?”

               Alabaster’s eyes widened. “The sorceress? Why didn’t you say—” he cut off. No one but the Pax brothers would have realized how vital that was, and they might have been sparing Jack’s feelings about Calypso.

               A dark figure skirted around the side of the house. Alabaster flinched. Something shouldn’t have gotten through his barrier without him detecting—

               Alabaster relaxed when he recognized the single glint of Pax’s hazel eye and heard the racking hackle of Jack’s song. Alabaster tensed all over when he saw that Pax was alone. No—not alone—

               Pax scrambled up the stairs. He trembled and choked on sobs when he skittered to a halt in front of them. He was pale. Mud smeared his knees, and there was a nasty bruise forming on his neck, like someone had tried to take a chunk out of it. He bent over and put his free hand on his knee. His other fingers were tightly clenched in a mess of short, dripping red hair.

               A mess that was definitely talking.

               “--okay, kiddo, it was just Nico, and we hate that—” the head said.

               Pax gathered himself enough to say, “Jack’s dead.”

               “I see that,” Alabaster said, unable to look away.            

               When Pax registered Alabaster’s and Kally’s looks of horror, he gave another sob—this one of relief. “Can all of you hear him too?”

               Alabaster nodded.

He could see Kally do the same from the corner of his eye.  

Some part of him was fascinated. The other part of him wondered if his fascination signified how much more therapy he needed. Had this been another situation, Alabaster might have chastised Pax for bringing home wartime trophies. Alabaster already thought it was gross when the weasels did it.

               Pax let out a hysterical laugh, twisting the mess of hair. Alabaster’s stomach clenched. He’d had to dissect plenty of bodies for spells, but he didn’t often recognize them. Jack’s face was ghastly pale. His eyes were sunken and his lips looked parched and blue under the spittle and blood. There was a hole in his cheek, leaking more fluids. Despite all of that, his eyes were alert and his mouth wouldn’t stop moving. Now, he was humming the tune to, Don’t Stop Me Now.

               Pax laugh-cried, “Oh, thank the gods! Not that I’m happy all of you are going crazy too, just that it isn’t just me.”

               Kally reached a hesitant hand out towards Pax, but stopped. “Ajax, are you—”

               “No!” he cried, “No, I’m not okay!” Alabaster guessed she was going to say, hurt, but knew stopping a Pax mid-rant was like stopping a train with a school crossing sign. “I’m holding a decapitated—”

               “—very handsome—” Jack interjected.

               “—very handsome, talking head of a surrogate father I’ve had to watch die twice! And I’ve probably been exposed to all kinds of diseases, like ebola—”

               “—actually, it was pneumatic plague,” Jack corrected indignantly, “Keep your pandemics straight.”

               “—shingles, and whatever he gave Annabeth! Oh, and Will’s blood.”

               “Mono,” Jack said.[1]

               “Annabeth is here--?” Kally started to ask, but put a hand to her mouth. “Is Will okay?”

               “He was looking a little on the corpsy side after Jack finished his family bonding,” Pax used Jack’s head to gesticulate on family bonding. Someone needed to take Jack’s head from him… but Alabaster really didn’t want to touch it. “Then Nico went all shadows and poofballs to save him and Melinoe captured him to use him as a shadow bridge and now the others are coming for us,” he babbled in one breath.

               “We need to wake up everyone, assuming that cracking noise didn’t wake them up,” Alabaster said. He could feel the shield around his property waning. “The barrier will only give us maybe—five more minutes at this rate. Ajax—”

               Pax burst into a fit of giggles. He almost doubled over. Both Alabaster and Kally flinched.

               “Get it?! Get it?! Jack’s the head of Orpheus Metal. The prophecy! Orpheus’ head won by heart’s loss. I’m at the loss! Why are the Fates so much more creative than me today!” Pax continued to giggle between sobs and gasps. “You win, Fates! You win this round!”

               Many stories said Orpheus’ head sang after it was cut off, though Alabaster didn’t know why they would need a singing head. What they needed to do was get inside and ready for a fight. If Annabeth and Nico were here, he had a guess as to which demigod would be leading the charge. The thought of fighting Percy Jackson excited Alabaster, but not in his pajama pants.

               Alabaster went to command them inside when Pax hugged himself, not seeming to care that Jack’s head bopped against his hip. He choked and coughed.

               “Aw, kiddo, it’s okay—” Jack started.

               Kally removed one of her socks and jammed it into Jack’s mouth. She shivered, examining Pax. After opening and closing her mouth once, she pulled Pax into a hug.

               Normally, Alabaster might warn that she was falling for one of Pax’s ruses. But Pax could barely breathe. And Jack was definitely dead in Pax’s hand. A shudder of horror rumbled through Alabaster when he realized Death really couldn’t keep Jack away.

               And part of him broke, knowing Pax really needed him right now.

               Kally reached back, grabbed Alabaster’s sweater, and dragged him into the hug.

               He counted out five seconds, trying not to think about how freaked out Pax was. Or Kally. Alabaster had seen plenty of severed heads. He guessed this was her first.

               “We need to get inside,” Alabaster said. Later. They could help Pax later. And… do whatever you were supposed to do for decapitated heads to Jack. “Let’s get inside and get Axel.”

                 As Alabaster had hoped, the others were readying themselves. They must have heard the crack. Axel was decorated with a myriad of weapons strapped on with various holsters: hoplite swords, daggers, knives, and others, both celestial and human-made. He had donned his Nemean Lion pelt. With that, his bracers, and his old leather pteruges[2], Axel looked more like the honored lieutenant Alabaster had proudly looked up to.  

               The child of Eros had his bow ready, peering out the front window like a sniper. Euna had Backbiter drawn, standing beside him. Merry sat on the stairs, pale, jutting her jaw to one side.

               The weasels practiced a war dance all around the living room.

               Needing no instruction, Axel handed Alabaster his playing cards as he, Kally, Pax, and… Jack entered.

               “What in Hades is going on?” Calex demanded from his lookout by the window. “We heard—Holy Hygieia! Pax, why do you have that mental bloke’s head?!”

               Jack finally managed to dislodge and spit out Kally’s sock. “I believe the full term is ‘mentally handicapped’ for the political activists. Don’t want to upset Axel,” he teased.

               “Oh gods, it talks,” Calex hissed, touching his temple with one hand.

               “Jack’s dead,” Pax greeted his brother.

               “Again,” Axel acknowledged as he handed Pax the Silver Tongued Snake helm, his bronze chest plate, some clothing, and Pax’s utility belt and attached daggers. His eyes glazed over Jack the same way Alabaster had seen Axel register other dead in the field of battle: a current logistic, grief best left until grief had time. Though Axel did puff up his cheeks and pop them.

               Alabaster flicked his Mist cards through his fingers. Claymore’s was on top, but now wouldn’t be the time to awaken him. As much as he wanted Claymore’s guidance, another body cluttering the room wasn’t what they needed. He flipped to the next set of cards, summoning his bulletproof vest. He hesitated on the imperial gold sword. No… for this, he wanted his old weapons.

               Axel handed Alabaster his Cloven Witch Boy helm, the goat skull enlaced with Stygian iron.  The Triple A Chimera helped each other suit up like no time had passed since their last mission.

               There was a card towards the bottom of Alabaster’s deck that he’d almost thrown away on multiple occasions. He withdrew it, summoned the contents, and handed a thin vial off to Pax. “This is the remnants of some knock out serum. You get one shot. Don’t waste it.”  

               Jack hummed the whole time and Merry and Calex looked like they might throw up.

               “Pax Bae, sweetie, you and I need to have some real talk time about you bringing body parts and dead things home,” Merry whispered.

               “They sent a diplomacy party—” Pax explained while Axel strapped down Pax’s bronze breastplate.

               “Amicablicious!” Merry cheered. “So why—”

               “—that Jack attacked. And now it looks like I played whack-a-mole with Will Solace’s face and poofed Nico Di Angelo into hipsters and Hot Topic.”

               “Did you?” Calex asked, his eyes narrowing.

               Axel and Kally shot Calex a look. Kally’s was of bewilderment. Axel’s was anger. His message was clear, don’t question my brother.

               Pax’s jaw dropped and began to tremble again. “How could you ask that? You know I ship Solangelo.”

               “Maybe we can still use some sweet talk. Pax, what exac—?” Merry started to ask.

               “AJAX PAX!”

               A rumble shook the house and something roared along the shutters. The window glass exploded inward.

               Calex and Euna shouted and dove onto the floor.

               Everyone crouched and ducked.

               “Let’s talk and flee, shall we?” Pax shouted over the boom of wind as it knocked over lampshades, tore loose papers out of the bookshelf, and knocked Alabaster’s favorite teacup off the coffee table. It shattered on impact with the rug.

               “What is that?!” Kally asked.

               “If I had to guess? Jason expressing his feelings. He’s a very sensitive kind of guy!” Pax shouted back.

               Something smashed into the front door. A piece of the wood fractured. Alabaster wanted to curse. Though weakened, his rune barrier hadn’t collapsed yet. No living thing—human or monster—should have been able—

               The wooden frame cracked, and something silvery thundered into the living room.

               Alabaster summoned one of his best Mist cards: his two pronged, Stygian iron staff. Whichever magic user they were facing must have been powerful to sneak in a—

               A silver worktable.

               With the wind dying down, Alabaster could swear there was a faint, “Felix! Come back! I wasn’t supposed to program you with door ramming abilities until next week!”  

               Maybe they would have shared a collective sigh of relief, had the sentient table not bound across the room. Before any of them could get in the way, the worktable slammed into Kally, knocking her flat.

               The table lifted a leg above Kally’s head.

               She yelped and twisted out of the way of a blow that would have crushed her skull. Instead, the table leg pinned her sweatshirt hoodie, preventing her from rolling away. Kally scrambled to squirm out of the article of clothing.

               Alabaster slammed his staff into the leg, jolting her free.

               “Hunnie!” Pax shouted.

               The weasel scurried out from under the couch. Her approach became much more intimidating when Hunnie expanded to the size of the couch. She slammed into the worktable, rocketing the table back through the front door.

               “Out the back!” Axel commanded.

               “But—the van and Vinyl—” Calex started.

               “Now!”

               Alabaster had abandoned so many houses over the last year, all he could do was internally sigh at the thought of going back on the market. At least it was easier with Claymore around.

But, he wanted to take a stand and fight. He’d run from Lamia and the Romans for months. And now, he could possibly have the chance to fight Percy Jackson and Jason Grace and show the pawns of the Olympic mafia what they’d taken from him?

               While he hesitated, Pax grabbed the hand he had on his helmet and Kally grabbed the one on his staff. They dragged him back through the backdoor they’d entered moments ago.

               From a glance behind, Alabaster could see Euna dragging Calex and Merry in a similar way. Axel followed out last, assuring the group was together.

               As they raced down the porch, the rune on Alabaster’s pant leg shattered. A jolt of pain and weakness spread from the break, darkening his senses momentarily. The rune barrier collapsed. The house was now exposed.

               They couldn’t make a stealthy retreat, not with Jack mumbling the whole time and the clank of their armor.

               The three weasels swarmed around their feet. Hunnie was back to her tiny size, having either won or given up on the fight against the work table. For the sake of defending Hecate’s craftsmanship, he hoped the former.      

               “Alabaster! Best retreat?” Axel demanded.

               “The forest,” Alabaster snapped. Despite Lamia’s recent absence, Alabaster had gotten into the habit of planning escapes. Reflexively, he’d directed Pax and Kally towards the woods, taking the lead.

               “Merry—I know it’s a lot—you gotta keep going!” Kally gasped over her shoulder.

               “C—can’t—” the daughter of Dionysus panted. From their stories earlier, Merry had completely depleted herself of energy. A couple hours rest wouldn’t recharge the strongest of demigods after causing a Dionysus level dance off.

               “I have you,” Calex said.

               Alabaster glanced back. Calex had picked Merry up, but they were already so far behind. And carrying her would only slow the Brit down.

               They needed something to cover their retreat, but Alabaster wasn’t sure his concealment spells could hide all seven of them—eight if you included Jack’s grumbling head.

               Beyond them, Alabaster could see five figures approaching from the side of the house.

               The barometric pressure dropped.

               “STOP!” Pax shrieked.

               For an instant, Alabaster thought Pax or Axel had used their Mayan magic. That’s how it always felt before they did.

               Instead, a flash of light blinded Alabaster ahead.

               Something popped.

               For an instant, Alabaster couldn’t see or hear anything. The earth rumbled under his feet—something was shifting. He, Pax, and Kally fell on the grass.

               When he managed to blink the floating spheres out of his vision, he could see something had shifted the earth ahead of them. There was now a deep trench, in a semicircle, around the back of the house. Like someone had collapsed a tunnel underneath.

               They were trapped.

 [1] Mel Beta Note: “I’m not sure what’s stronger right now: my sense of humor or my sense of morals. I’m so emotionally confused!” However, Mel had the disclaimer that Jack exposure may cause confusion. Like a Psyduck.

[2] This is the proper name for those fancy leather skirts the Romans wore. “Skirts” just didn’t fit the right mood of the scene, though I assure you Pax was thinking of them as skirts.

[tea-and-conspiracy]

Prompt 24: Beam

Azem had this uncanny way of knowing when Emet-Selch was in the middle of something.

She’d summoned him from a nap too many times to count. Once, she’d summoned him when he was holding up a ladder for Hythlodaeus. Today she summoned him out of the bath tub. That wasn’t the bad part -- after all, either of them could solve it in a snap and it wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before. Nor was it the fact that his unceremoniously naked appearance set her into delighted giggle-fits. No, the real rub was that this time, Azem had summoned him not because anyone was in danger, not because she needed his insight, but because she had found a petrified head hanging from a tree.

He didn’t even bother re-conjuring his mask because his need to facepalm was too great. WHY did he find this so endearing? That was most frustrating of all.

“Guess what this is!” She was practically bouncing on her toes. “Come on, guess.”

“Why is it singing?”

“Look at it, Hades!”

“Yes, it’s quite a lovely head.” He hadn’t even noticed her using his real name.

“No,” came Azem’s careful reply. “Look.”

Oh. She meant that sight. Emet-Selch blinked and stepped forward, squinting at the head. He’d thought it painstakingly carved from marble -- a beautiful, curly-haired youth, the textbook definition of Adonis. But beneath unmasked, alabaster flesh came an anemic glimmer, the faintest shiver of yellow light.

“It has a soul?!” He stepped back in horror.

“Mhm.” Azem gave a melancholic smile. “I’ve been searching for him forever. This is Orpheus, the third Azem, who died attempting to save his beloved Eurydice.”

Emet-Selch shook his head, sweeping forward to touch the man’s cheek. “No, dear, he’s not dead. Not while some fragment of him lingers here. The third Azem, you say? Then he has lingered in purgatory for....”

Azems rarely lasted long. There had only been fourteen Emet-Selchs but there had been thirty-two Azems. By all in mournful Creation, that was an unfathomably long time.

“That’s why I called you,” came her soft response.

Of course. The Shepherd to the Stars needed the Shepherd of the Dead. That wasn’t even his Seat and yet it had become his job more often than not. This was...new, though. Emet-Selch couldn’t recall a time he’d seen Creation magic used with such murderous intent. Who had this Azem managed to anger? Had the past truly been so barbarous?

“Help me, my dear?”

“Of course.”

He didn’t need to explain; she understood.

As he weakened the stone, turned it to putty, she summoned the sliver of soul from it. She could not see them, not as he could, but the pull of her Traveler’s stone told her it was there. When at last it was free, Emet-Selch reached for the soul -- and smothered it, crushing it back into the Lifestream. And in that lingering silence, Orpheus was finally free.

“...Thank you, my love,” she whispered, her eyes upon the stars. “I know it’s grim work.”

Emet-Selch gazed back at the tree. “Certainly less unpleasant than being denied rebirth. I cannot imagine what an effect that would come to have upon a soul. Amnesia? Depression? Perhaps simple madness.”

“Maybe. But the important part is he’s free. Isn’t that worth being happy about?” She smiled, laying a hand upon his cheek. “Besides, you are very much alive. You have no excuse to be depressed.”

“I have to deal with Nabriales in the morning, that’s plenty depressing.” He smirked.

“Nabriales, hm...?” And Azem got that look. He knew that look; she wore it almost as often as Hythlodaeus did. With a melodramatic flourish, the Traveler moved to where she’d dropped her belongings in excitement nearby. “You know? I think I forgot how to send you home all the sudden. Maybe Nabriales will have to wait a few more days. What do you think?”

Azem glanced over her shoulder, and beamed.

[searchingwardrobes]

If I Die Young

Happy birthday, @followbatb ! This fandom isn’t just made up of writers and artists, it’s also made up of faithful readers like you. I so appreciate you following my stories, and I hope your birthday is fantastic! This story will seem in the beginning like it’s tragic with the title and the whole “major character death” tag, but it’s not what it seems. Just remember the Underworld arc and the whole “mostly dead” thing in The Princess Bride 😉

Summary: Killian reached the edge of the river and sank carefully to his knees beside the bed of reeds and roses he had spent all night weaving together. He deposited his love gently upon it, the soft petals of the middlemist roses seeming to embrace her. He stepped back, pressing his eyes closed in a silent prayer before pushing the precious cargo gently into the water. He clung to the tenuous hope that the rumors were true; that this river fed into the most legendary of waters: the River Styx. A Captain Duckling Enchanted Forest AU in which Killian goes to the Underworld for Emma instead of the other way around. Based on the song by The Band Perry.

Rating: T

Trigger Warnings: Major character is dead (but Killian goes to the Underworld, so . . . )

Words: 2,000 and some change

Also on Ao3 and part of my Fandom Birthday Playlist

Tagging: @kmomof4 @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @thislassishooked @bethacaciakay @teamhook @tiganasummertree @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @kday426 @let-it-raines @shireness-says @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @distant-rose

 If I die young, bury me in satin. Lay me down on a bed of roses. Sink me in the river at dawn. Send me away with the words of a love song.

 Princess Emma’s arms swung limp against black leather. Her head was flung back at an uncomfortable angle, her long golden hair tumbling like a waterfall. She hadn’t gone completely cold yet, but her face was unnaturally pale, her lips void of color.

Captain Killian Jones, known by most as the fearsome pirate Hook, carried his load with a grim face, a single tear tracking down one cheek. He should have known the Dark One would take this love from him just as he had once taken Milah. He had doomed the princess from the moment they met. He should have stayed far away from her, but he was weak. Weak or his Emma was too stubborn and feisty to take no for an answer. Probably both.

He reached the edge of the river and sank carefully to his knees beside the bed of reeds and roses he had spent all night weaving together. He deposited his love gently upon it, the soft petals of the middlemist roses seeming to embrace her. They seemed fitting. It was a field of middlemist roses where they had shared their first kiss. Ever since, they always made him think of her and the love they shared. She looked exquisite, even in death, her white satin dress giving her the aura of a goddess. He bent and kissed her cold lips, another tear falling upon her cheek as he pulled back. Those weren’t the lips he had come to love; they weren’t warm or pliant or eager.

He stepped back, pressing his eyes closed in a silent prayer before pushing the precious cargo gently into the water. He clung to the tenuous hope that the rumors were true; that this river fed into the most legendary of waters: the River Styx. If not, he would most likely be dead in a matter of days. No one would believe that Emma had not died by his hand. He was a pirate, after all, one with a vicious hook at that. Her body disappearing wouldn’t bode well for him either, nor the secrecy of their romance. He was bound for the gallows if this didn’t work.

He would welcome the gallows if this didn’t work.

The little raft bobbed gently on the water, the current taking it softly as a fog rolled in. Killian was scarcely aware of his feet taking him into the waters, his eyes straining as he waded in, desperate not to lose sight of his love. Yet the fog was unrelenting, and he could no longer see her golden hair or the blush of the roses. Tears coursed down his face now, his chin falling to his chest as his eyes slid closed.

“Come aboard.”

Killian startled, looking up to see a dark hooded figure aboard a small boat. He stood in the bow, extending his bony hand to Killian, yet he could not see the being’s face.

“Come aboard, mortal. The Queen Persephone wants an audience with you.” When Killian still hesitated, the being sighed in irritation. “It is what you seek, is it not? A way to save your love from the Underworld?”

At that, Killian shook off this stupor, and took the sailor’s hand. Charon, he realized, ferryman for the dead. How the craft sailed, he had no idea. It had neither sails nor oars, yet it glided through the misty waters all the same. All concept of time fled Killian’s mind, and before he knew it, they were on a dark and foreboding shore.

Wraiths swooped through the air, and the fog seemed ever present as Killian made his way to the castle not far from the river. Charon had stayed behind, assuring Killian that he needed no guide. The man (being?) had been right. Something intangible seemed to pull him towards the castle, keeping him on the right path.

The castle itself was made of something like obsidian, it’s towers black and sharpened to points. The gate was made of a mixture of charred bones and spikes that resembled black ice. They opened for Killian automatically, and an invisible hand seemed to push him forward.

The floor was ebony marble, polished like glass. The throne room was empty but for the two thrones at the far end. The one on the right was as black and sharp as everything else, the man upon it white as a corpse in contrast. Yet Hades was handsome in a sharp and angular way, his long elegant fingers idly petting one of the large heads of Cerberus, the three headed dog of the Underworld. The imposing creature, as large as a horse and broad as a lion, hummed through one of its frothing jaws, taking obvious pleasure in its master’s ministrations. Yet the other two large heads growled as Killian drew near.

“Calm Cerberus, dear,” the figure on the left said gently.

Queen Persephone, in contrast, was soft and bright in every way. Her skin was tanned, like someone who spent most of her time in the sun. Her hair was a soft brown like earth turned over in the spring. Her eyes were as a bright blue as the sky, her lips and cheeks as rosy as flower petals. Life itself married to death. It was a perplexing picture.

Hades gave a command to Cerberus, and all three heads immediately calmed, resting their chins on the dais. Hades turned to Killian then, steepling his long fingers beneath his chin. Yet when he spoke, he addressed his wife.

“You know they always look back. Why waste your time?”

“Love is never a waste,” Persephone argued. Hades actually smiled then, clasping his wife’s hand and bringing it to his pale lips. Persephone smiled fondly in return, then looked back at Killian. She rose from her throne, made of cherry wood instead of black marble, and stepped down from the dais to approach the pirate.

“I am honored to be in your presence, goddess,” Killian said as he bowed. He didn’t think “majesty” was the right word for a deity, and hoped he had addressed her correctly.

He was relieved when the goddess smiled at him. “I think you just might be different from the others, Killian Jones. A princess and a pirate, a most unlikely pair. Like the god of the dead and the goddess of spring. Most people think my husband tricked me into eating that pomegranate, but I ate it willingly.”

Killian was surprised at the fondness in her eyes. Persephone turned then and snapped her fingers. A young woman in a gown of deep purple and a bronze colored hooded cape hurried to the goddess’s side.

“Guide Captain Jones down the hidden road out of the Underworld.”

“Yes, my queen,” the woman said, bowing low.

Persephone turned to Killian again. “I am sure you have heard the tale of Orpheus.”

Killian bowed once again. “Aye, most honorable Queen, I am not to look back or I will lose my love.”

Persephone gently took Killian’s chin and lifted his gaze to hers. “That is right. Go and do not look back.”

The sad expression on her face wasn’t at all encouraging. Neither was the sinister expression on her husband’s. He had the oddest feeling this was a game to them.

Nevertheless, he followed the hooded woman out of the throne room and out of the castle. She led him past the desolate royal grounds, past the fields full of wraiths and fog, and into a dark and foreboding forest thick with gnarled trees and thorns. Just as they entered the woods, she turned to him and threw back her hood. She had the alabaster complexion and colorless lips of one of the dead, yet her beauty was unfading. Her mahogany hair shimmered despite the darkness, and her chocolate brown eyes swam with both sadness and intensity.

“I am forbidden to assist those I guide, so listen to me carefully now.”

“Who are you?”

Her gaze lowered to the dead leaves at her feet. “One who knows more of love and loss than most can imagine.”

Killian’s eyes widened. “You’re Eurydice, the woman Oprheus loved. The one he almost rescued from death.” She simply nodded, and Killian’s jaw clenched. “How cruel to give you this task!”

She gave him a sad smile. “It wasn’t given to me, I requested it. Perhaps one day love will conquer death, and I wish to be there to see it.”

He clasped her hands in his one. “Thank you.”

“Now,” she said, putting her hood back over her head, “not only can you not look back, neither can you reach back. So keep your hands at your sides. Don’t try and check in any way that she’s there behind you. Also, Hades doesn’t want to let any soul go from his kingdom. Believe nothing you hear, no matter who the voice sounds like. And finally, you can’t look back until both of you are out of the tunnel to the Underworld.”

Killian nodded. He knew the story of Orpheus well, and that had been his mistake. He had stepped out into the land of the living, and thought it would be safe to look back at Eurydice. Sadly, his love had not yet crossed the threshold, and she had disappeared like mist before his eyes. The voices she was warning him not to listen to had to be Emma’s, who else could tempt him to look back? So he filed that away as well. He threw back his shoulders and drew in a steeling breath. He could do this. For Emma.

“I’m ready.”

Eurydice nodded. “I can’t look back either once we begin, so keep your eyes on me and don’t stray from the path. Emma is to keep her eyes on you in the same way, so she is depending on you as well.”

Killian swallowed hard, and sent up a quick prayer to whatever god or goddess would listen and take mercy on them. Eurydice faced forward and plunged into the wood.

Killian quickly learned that it wasn’t just what the voices said. (Are you sure she’s really there? Can you really trust Hades? What about your brother? Doesn’t he deserve to be saved too? Don’t you love him just as much?) It was the pull they had on him, the tugging on his heart to doubt, to fear. It took much more willpower than he had anticipated not to give in to their suggestions to glance back or turn around and go back for his brother. And though he had been prepared for Emma’s voice, he had underestimated how strongly it would affect him. Her pleas sounded so desperate, frightened, and broken. (Help me, Killian! Please! They’re hurting me! I can’t see you! Where are you, Killian?) So afraid was he of losing sight of Eurydice and getting them both lost, his eyes went dry staring at that bronze cloak as she wove between the trees. It was no simple trail, that was clear, and without a guide he and Emma would be hopelessly lost.

Finally yet suddenly, he was in the bright sunshine, just a few miles down the riverbank from where he had watched Emma’s body sink at dawn. The urge to spin around, to see if his love was really there was strong, but he resisted the temptation. It would be just like Hades to trick them. To tell Eurydice to guide him, then go back later for Emma. Instead, Killian went to the edge of the water. It wasn’t the ocean, but the gentle rush of the current calmed him nonetheless. He took in deep breaths as the sun sparkled on the water, praying, waiting.

“Killian,” a familiar voice whispered at his side. The slender fingers of one of her hands wrapped around his bicep, the other closed around his hook. Though it was only cold steel, he swore he could feel the warmth of her hand through it.

He turned to look at her, her bright jade eyes, her pink lips, her rosy freckled cheeks. He choked on a sob as he pulled her close to him, breathing in the familiar cinnamon scent of her hair. He buried his fingers into the soft strands and trailed kisses along her cheeks.

“You’re here, you’re really here,” he choked out.

She laughed as he kissed every available spot on her face; her nose, her chin, her forehead. Then his lips found hers, and the memory of them cold and still fled as she kissed him back with abandon. They kissed until their lips were swollen and they were gasping for breath.

“I love you,” Killian told her, his forehead pressed to hers.

“I love you, too,” Emma whispered back.

In the shadows just beyond the threshold, Eurydice smiled beneath her bronze hood. She watched Killian Jones scoop Princess Emma into his arms, watched the princess wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him with passion and exhilarating happiness. As she turned from the scene to descend back into the cold darkness, she couldn’t wait to tell Queen Persephone that love had finally conquered death.

If I die young bury me in satin. Lay me down in a bed of roses. Sink me in the river at dawn. Send me away with the words of a love song.