#the death's call fanfiction

[running-with-kn1ves]

Exhaustion

A/N: Hey I should be working on everything BUT this. do NOT blame my ass if this is ooc (I can't handle criticism and I'm aware :,>)

PART 1

L Lawliet Yandere! X GN! Reader

TW: Stalking, breaking and entering, obsessive thoughts/behaviors, nonconsensual touching

It was an invasion of privacy; he knew that. It was against everything he stood for, what he strived to prevent-- an act familiar to the criminals he faced. And yet, he had no inclination to turn away, to retreat from your blackened bedroom and leave you alone in the dark. 

There was something comforting about how silent you slept. Even with your body sprawled out like a crooked starfish, with your legs tangled in sheets and clothes wrinkled, you were in pure sleepful delight. A nuclear bomb could go off outside and this little sliver of the world would remain untouched, your eyes so gentle and shut, with soft eyelashes falling against your cheeks as if it were nothing, as if an angel hadn’t fallen asleep on the softest patch of grass away from the rest of the world.

L observed you from a distance, brazen enough to take your desk chair and sit in his peculiar way as a spectator. He did not dare to disturb the sanctified corner that was your bed-laden body. 

You breathed in heavily, a quick heave through your nose that developed into a great exhale of pure exhaustion. It didn’t take a genius to see the weight witnessing your professor’s death left on you; L forgot how distressing morbidity could be for those not used to it, those who had not studied gruesome photos and rewinded videos of countless hours in crime and death. 

You shift just slightly to sling an arm over your face, the streetlight beaming in through your window and casting a glow on your eyes and hair. It made you shine which in any instance would have been mesmerizing, but currently it threatened to expose the felony your stalker was committing. 

Wobbling out of the desk chair with a catlike stare, L watched for movement as the chair creaked. His light, barefooted steps reached the curtains with a swiftness not expected of someone so gaunt. Your bedroom was curtained in complete darkness as his eyes adjusted, seeing the way your shirt rode up to expose just above your belly button, the sheets lined between your legs as you remained spread out, peaceful. It was an odd fascination he had come to realize-- not like one he had for solving crimes and convoluted mysteries, but a pleasant and simple interest in each little reaction you had. From the twitching of the tips of your fingers at times, to the way you’d swallow if your mouth was open for too long. 

Most especially the different vocalizations you made, from snore-like grunts, to hums and sighs of pleasure as your back cooled against the linen. L intended to return back to his place of distant observation, feeling a lump the size of a plum seed burrowing in his chest as he imagined you waking.

Oddly enough however, your skin caught his eye. So unbothered and untouched, barely hidden by the white background you laid upon. Human bodies were a tricky, messy thing; purely biological, and often betraying our more advanced mental capacity for what was right and wrong. But yours… Even beneath that flesh being bone and muscle and meat, it looked… right.

This must be the ‘aesthetic’ that draws so many people in, why love and lust are so often confused… L did not need to dwell on the idea to recognize this was one of the few ‘firsts’ for him.You were by no means exempt from his cynicism or brutal comprehension-- but something here spoke more to him than mere logistical sense. It was appreciation, interest.

What did you feel like, what would parts of you taste like? 

A pale, spindly hand reached out to you, gracing the exposed flesh of your midsection. You were hot to the touch, near burning; or perhaps he was just so freezingly cold. It wasn’t enough to disturb you out of sleep, just enough to send a shiver up your chest at the iciness. L’s hand found comfort resting there, his palm against the soft flesh as it rose and fell along with your chest. 

Dare he… lift his hand higher, hand jaggedly moving up to the middle of your ribcage, slowly disappearing under your shirt. It was warm there, against the heat of your skin and the air trapped against your pajamas; his palm buzzed with a kind of painless sting. 

Gracing the smooth ridges of skin, L’s fingers moved, almost in a ticklish motion as each pad searched to understand what allured him so much, what kept him here, drawing in his desperation to understand. Above all else L was an investigator, one with the all encompassing desire to expose the truth. He felt closer to an answer when he was near you, as if he could touch the reason why he was infatuated with you-- but still, he couldn’t make sense of it. There was no answer to be found, none that would satisfy him enough to leave you alone. 

You unconsciously push your shirt down with a limp hand, drawing away from the cold air creeping up your stomach.

L sharply pulls his hand away, a look of surprise almost making its way to his face. His hand stood outstretched, curled and hovering from above as he watched you shift to lay on your side. 

The anticipation keeps him alert, wondering if this will be the moment your snores turn to a panicked scream. The room is quiet, drifting… the perfect environment for a deep rest, no clear indication of a gangly body watching from the edge of your bed. Your phone occasionally lights up on the nightstand silently; it takes a wrongful amount of force to prevent L from picking it up. 

He could attempt to delude himself into thinking he was just watching over a witness, protecting you from whatever violently lurked in the shadows; whether it be Kira, or an unfriendly fly. Even going so far as to say the reason he adjusted your sheets and lingered his fingers over your hot forehead were to keep you warm, unbothered. 

 But there was no lying to himself, that immoral feeling wouldn’t be dissuaded so easily. And L wasn’t stupid enough to try and pretend he didn’t know what he was.  

The detective retook his seat in the desk chair, finding comfort in the distance between it and your mattress. This way, no movement of his would deter you from the unconsciousness he hoped to keep you in; though, was it truly for your benefit, or for his? His sunken eyes wander, grazing the soft darkness shrouding your silhouette. 

Bringing his chin to his knees, L busied himself with thoughts of what you’d look like when you woke up, how you’d act all sleepily in the morning, and if you’d be just as forgetful tomorrow as you were tonight in leaving your windows unlocked. 

[hannibalised]

Grim Reaper! Simon x f!reader | tw: death

Grim Reaper! Simon who's supposed to take you away, between life and death, after and before, here and gone.

Grim Reaper! Simon who watched you all day, couldn't help the cold dread that clouded him because you were so full of life, despite the mess, you woke up and made your coffee. Choosing your clothes and saving that very expensive dress for some other time, some special day — not knowing this is the last, your most special. Instead picking on that shirt you loved for it's colour, not knowing it would end up only red.

Grim Reaper! Simon who stood helplessly when life was squashed out of you. One moment of extreme pain and then nothing at all. People screaming and pitying and murmuring, while you clutched your chest and raised above, looking around — blinking and confused, until you looked down and your pupils widened. Oh..gone.

Grim Reaper! Simon who clasped your hand as you cried and lamented, a life you hated so much and yet you loved it just the same. Glancing back at the flesh, hands outstretched as if begging you to not leave, same eyes, same face, same fucking everything — just lifeless.

Grim Reaper! Simon who held your soul as you wept and sobbed, it wasn't your fault...you were just trying to save the puppy, it wasn't — but now you were dead. No prayer would count. And these people around you, they're just watching your lifeless frame while you cry and cry.

Grim Reaper! Simon who knew how it went, one snap and you were truly gone to the other side. “T-this it it ? Is this the end ?” you sobbed more, remembering your goodbyes, did you tell you mum that you loved her, or did you tell dad his burnt toast were your favourite, did your friend knew they were so amazing and you loved them ?

Grim Reaper! Simon who could read your mind, “No. Come now.” he echoed, lifting you away from your dead body, just flesh that resembled you, all those things that made you a real person crumbled under those rubber tyre, now nothing but memories.

Grim Reaper! Simon who shaked his skeleton of a head, covered with his ghostly black hood, swaying like cloak behind him. You wouldn't stop crying, he couldn't bear that. “No, sweetheart.” He traced your jaw, letting those tears vapour in a whoosh,“Not yet. Not so soon. Not for you.”

Grim Reaper! Simon who took you back to your apartment, letting you take it all, your fingertips against smiling people trapped behind glasses, your cat purring in her cushion, notes sticked around, empty checkboxes that would never get ticked.

Grim Reaper! Simon who held above the dress you'd saved. “You would look so lovely.” he kept, ‘You always do.’ to himself, he sat as you licked the last bit of Nutella and patted your cat, oblivious to so many things.

Grim Reaper! Simon who took you to the beach because you never got time to go one, never had anyone to go with you. Now was the time and company.

Grim Reaper! Simon who sat beside you watching the last bits of rays disappearing into nothingness, letting sky turn darker and stars twinkle in it's wake.

Grim Reaper! Simon who might be smiling just a bit when you want to go for a night walk, with no fear and no worries. He's swaying behind you, while you are almost flying with new freedom, a new sense of living or dead taking over you. There was a before that you loved but there's also an after that awaits. It's okay, Simon had said. It's going to be okay.

Grim Reaper! Simon who took you on rooftop because you wanted to see the city, the whole fucking city. “How you wanted to go ?” He found himself speaking, he never did that, it's a simple affair — guide them to the other side, that's it. You rewarded him with a smile, “Like this.” You whispered, he would hear it anyway, “I wanted to be gone like this...on my own will, L-like —” You choked on your own words, “— to jump from a very tall somthing.” and that's the irony, your life was squashed out of you, no fall and no wind smashing your face and nothing like you thought.

Grim Reaper! Simon who would grant all your wishes, “Come” he said, the second time. First, he said it when he was pulling you back while your eyes were struck on those that belonged to you, the very same but truly empty — gone before it's time.

Grim Reaper! Simon who wanted you to be happy, forever if he could help it. He took your hand in his and floated to the edge, across the horizon. There's sun rising from new beginnings, “I can't die a second time.” you laughed, a soft choke in your throat. Your stomach twisted in your guts and it's shouldn't be like this. You should feel empty and whatever void meant to be, but this knot wouldn't let go.

Grim Reaper! Simon who shook his ghost of head, tilting his head affectionately to you, “No. but you can live.”

Grim Reaper! Simon who took the fall with you, in the dress you always wanted to wear, smelling like all the things you loved, your city and salt and your favourite perfume. A smile that was forever young and true. There with him, between life and death.

Masterlist

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Please always take care. Someone somewhere loves you so much and you mean the world to them. Please remember, please know you're loved and blessed and mean so much more than you think. Xoxo.

[justaz]

a spell is cast on camelot that thins the veil enough for ghosts to appear. the catch? the ghosts that appear are spirits of people that were killed by the person they’re haunting. the knights have a good amount of bandits/raiders/whatever that they took down in battle, maybe a few shady knights have genuinely innocent people that they murdered and got away with. the executioner’s killings are transferred to the king since he was simply acting out the king’s commands. arthur has quite a few. uther has hundreds of sorcerers in various states of gore and horror. those who were hanged have perpetually bent necks, those who were beheaded have either no head or just a head floating a bit above their body, and those who were burnt are more charred remains (the most grisly of them all). merlin has more than anyone expected (which was zero) and all of them keep calling out for arthur/uther’s death and camelot’s downfall while also turning to merlin and calling him a traitor.

[mastercherry]

Sooo.... just had the idea for a bookclub, but instead of books we read fanfics and we talk about it when we're done.

[strawberry--icecream]

Can't i just switch universe??

[lostintransist]

Death is Not Always Kind | Part 3

Part 1 here.

CW: Asking for death, implied threats, men (derogatory)

AO3 | Death Masterlist

They have gone. Leaving you alone with instructions that food will be delivered to the door and to not wander. K left you an empty notebook and a series of pens. N nodded once to his bed and shut the door behind him. They shut you in this new cage but left the door unlocked.

You take your days; lining the empty pages with lines a hint of a breath between them as you fill one side diagonal and then the other horizontally. Six pages front and back filled with nothing but lines, a prison for the ink you have wasted. The pounding at the door becomes near constant. You have ignored the food. They are not here to force you.

The words begin to crawl out of you, filling the larger spaces you leave between your lines. You think yourself a dragon, breathing out poison and setting the world ablaze with the hate in your soul. You would say the fires of hell but you have found hell is cold, sterile, white and leached of color.

Exhaustion steals you into sleep more often as your weary body cries for nutrients again. On the fourth day someone opens the door. This man is large. Tall, not as tall as K, but broader by half. A dark hood with bleached weeping eyes stare at you.

“Come.”

He turns and walks from the room. Something about the command pulls you forward. This is a man that will end you. No morals, twisted even as they sat in N and K, would prevent him from granting you release.

He walks silently, massive boots landing without even a puff of air as he displaces the atoms that live between his foot and his next step. You cannot match his silence despite the slight existence of your body. The slap of your feet against the cool laminate follows you as you follow him.

Men drift to one side as they move to and fro, all with some unknown destination. They nod and murmur a quick 'Colonel', eyes categorizing you as not a threat before they pass. Some eyes linger though, the lascivious thoughts clear. Boys, failed by society, found release only in the stolen space within bodies that could not be human. For if they were human, if they were real, men would have to grapple with the baseless violence that marked them as beasts and not as men in fact.

The doors change. Where once the spread out openings were closed tight with solid pieces now windows peaked out at you between the walls and built into the doors. At a door like all the others the man stopped, and you behind him.

A key appeared from a pocket and disappeared into the same after its job had been completed. He opens the door for you, this colonel pulls his second power move by gesturing that you enter first. Stepping through you flick your eyes across the wall of filing cabinets, all shut tight. His desk is neat to a fault. You reach out and touch a pen laid neatly at the end of his matte black desk mat.

No nameplate sits on his desk to identify who he is. The colonel stares at the askew pen before lifting his eyes to you.

“Why do they keep you?” His voice does not rumble as you expect for one of such size. You had expected the growl of a bear but found the voice of a mild-mannered shark instead.

“They won’t kill me,” you reach forward and tap the pen again. It slides but does not roll as the clip lays in the way.

“Why?”

If you knew that you would be freed of this electrified meat suit. Instead, you reach forward and tap the pen again.

His hand shoots out, holding your wrist tight, nearly to the point of pain. Looking up you stare into beautiful blue eyes that should not belong to the reaper.

“Will you kill me?”

“Can you only speak of your demise?” He muses aloud before letting your wrist go and leaning back in his chair. It squeaks against his weight. “No. Krueger and Nikto are some of my best. If I take you away who knows what they will drag home next.”

Wish that you were a witch to drown in your sorrows. Before thinking better of it you skirt the large desk, using all your might to spin the chair so you can settle on your knees between his thighs. You stare up at him, mournful, as your cheek rests so close to his groin that you can smell the sweat of the day collected in his creases.

“Please,” tears you have not shed in years start, “Please kill me.”

He stares down at you, dead eyes unwilling to bend to your request.

“What does death hold that you cannot?”

“Peace,” you sob into the seam of his pants.

Hands pull you upward until you are nestled nose into his hood and arms around his neck. That is how K and N find you hours later. The colonel had worked around you, firing off emails and answering men as they entered his office. He had shared food with you too. Bits of his meal from his own fork pressed to your lips with the expectation of bending to his will. You do. Thinking later you decide it must be the gentleness of his touch, those killing hands holding you gently, that pulls you back ever so slightly from the edge that you crept toward.

K busts through the door, ignoring the unspoken demand to knock and wait.

“König you have something of ours.”

The heat of his gaze sweeps over you, displeasure tasting the air.

N steps through before shutting the door tight.

“I grew up hunting rabbits for my Nonna,” König, as they called him, rests a hand on your back. “We did not keep them as pets, locked in cages.”

They stiffen, catching the message that is beyond you.

“Send her in the morning. Rabbits must have a purpose or they need to feed the pot.”

N surprises you by snarling at his commander.

“She will not play whore for you König.”

König’s fingers tighten on your ribs.

“I have need of a secretary, you have a rabbit in need of watching. You will share or I will grant her request.” All signs of civility disappeared from his voice. Despite your cries for death you shivered.

K and N do not need to share a look to reach a congress. N blinks and K nods.

“Up kaninchen, they will wish to ensure you are well,” he flexes his thigh beneath you.

You stand slowly, already missing the warmth of his body that had seeped into your bones.

“Bring her dressed next time,” he says to them by way of dismissal.

Looking down at your too-large shirt and tightened sweats you frown. You suppose toes should not be out if you are to work in the colonel’s office. Did you want to work in his office? Did you have a choice?

Following your keepers back to your room you let them prod at you and answer their questions. No, he did not hurt you, no he did not touch your body in a way you did not agree to, yes you ate today. When you are delivered to the showers you clean your body perfunctorily, pausing only once to notice that your breasts have started to return. When you return to the room you share with N, K at your side, you find the mattress empty. N has settled himself across the cot you used, light breathing the only indication of life.

“I don’t want it,” you snap at both of them.

“It is our failure that has brought the colonel’s attention to you, the least we can do is upgrade your resting hours,” K pushes you toward the bed. His hand is firm, but not unkind. “Morning comes early.”

You lay down, glaring across the room at N as S kills the lights and leaves you to your nightmares.

Likes are amazing! Reblogs are better (that lets your followers see what you like.)

Part 2 | Part 4

Death Masterlist | Masterlist

@meinemauschen

[guppybibi]

𖦹 pairing: John ‘Soap’ MacTavish x fem!reader (reader is referred to Mrs. MacTavish but that's it)

𖦹 content: Angst & crack??, self indulgent, this is bad lmao, character death

𖦹 notes: hi self indulgent fic bcus why not? going thru a heavy COD phase but idk where to start with the lore pls help not my idea for the last part btw

Death, something so normal that it happens everyday yet so feared upon by the majority. You’ve come to terms with it though, especially since your husband was in the military. You never failed to mentally prepare yourself whenever he gets deployed, so if the heartbreaking news ever came home to you. The relief your heart goes through when your husband comes home in one piece is practically unexplainable, every moment you have spent with him is something you hold close to you.

So when the news drops by your doorstep, you can't even respond to them. Johnny, your husband, was gone. Like actually, they aren't kidding. This wasn't a joke, this was reality. A reality you thought you’ve accepted a long time ago.

“Johnny..? You mean my Johnny boy? He's KIA?” You ask, wondering if you really heard it right. It was a pretty common name after all, they could've simply made a mistake. You wouldn't hold it against them, mistakes will always be made. “Yes, Sergeant MacTavish.” It felt like your home was just blown away by a big bad wolf, leaving you with no sense of security. That was a few weeks ago though, long enough for you to accept that it really did happen.

Your husband's wish of being forever young was granted, he's been welcomed and given to the arms of the afterlife. So now, you stood beside the men your beloved husband fought alongside with. The same men who saw him take his last breath of the smoky air the atmosphere here on Earth holds. You decided to spread his ashes from here, a high place to represent your husband's high spirits. It was quite breezy too, maybe it was Johnny actually. Subtly telling you guys that he was still there, the wind perfectly resembled him after all.

“Nice to have a little reunion with you, Mrs. MacTavish..” John starts. “Though I wished we had one in..less gloomy circumstances.” You nod back to the Captain, looking over to the setting sun. “It's time to say goodbye.” You mutter, your lips quivering into a soft smile. That was what Johnny would've wanted, so you're fulfilling it. Soon enough, his ashes were being spread. You watched where the wind carried your husband, holding his urn tightly against your chest.

..Though it seemed like the wind had other plans when it changed directions and blew back to you all. It was like Johnny was giving all of you a goodbye kiss, how typical of him. “I got Soap in my eyes..” Simon mutters, trying to get rid of the ashes that got in his itching eye. The comment surely made you laugh, and it was the doing of your jokester of a husband..

[fandumb-thoughts]

“What did you do?” Adam asked.

Cain—his first born, the first ever born—looked at him with eyes wide and terrified. Adam’s eyes, Eve would say, the same brown of rich, rain-watered soil.

“I don’t know,” Cain said. “I don’t- Dad, I don’t know. Why won’t he wake up?”

Cain’s lip trembled, hands clasped tightly together, tears welling and falling in great fat drops. He was still so young, younger than Adam had ever been. His knees were knobbly and his wrists thin and he barely came up to Adam’s chin. Big enough to work, to till the fields and pull the weeds and harvest the crops, but small enough to curl tight in his mother’s arms when lightning cracked the sky.

On the ground was Abel, even younger yet. He tended the flocks and kept watch for anything that might want to harm them. He was good with them—gentler than Adam understood, though Eve told him to let him be. Even now several sheep creeped closer, braying nervously at the sharp scent of iron.

Abel was still shorter than Eve. He had a gap in the far back of his mouth where the last of his molars had popped out only a handful of days before. He had freckles that showed up in the summer sun, as if he had grown them there, all over his face and shoulders and arms.

“Dad, what do I do? What can I-?”

Abel’s eyes were open, looking to the sky that they so resembled, but they didn’t see anything. Somehow, Adam knew. Abel wouldn’t see anything ever again.

Adam hadn’t known that they could die. Humans, that was. Adam hadn’t known that Humans could die. How could he?

He’d suspected, of course. He bled when he was cut just like the animals he’d learned to butcher for their fat and meat and skin. He grew weak when they had little food to come by, they all had fallen ill a time or two, he’d watched as Eve lost what would have, otherwise, turned into a child. It wasn’t a shocking conclusion to reach, but he’d never known for certain. Not like he did now.

Adam fell to his knees, hands helplessly cradling Abel’s face. His son, his body, his baby-

There was so much blood, comign from the cracked-open place in Abel’s brown hair. It dyed his curls slick black, spilling down his neck. The soil was covered in it. This place would be stained for days—weeks, maybe even months—just as the place they slaughtered the livestock was marked as a place of death.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry.” Cain was sobbing, hiccuping over his words and gasping for breath.

Adam’s vision was blurring as his own tears came. Abel’s face felt rubbery and wrong underneath his hands. Lifeless.

This was wrong. This shouldn’t have happened. This should never happen. Abel was so young, had so much more to live. He would keep growing—maybe until he was taller than not only his mother but Adam too—and he would continue to tend the flocks like personally tending to the lambs that fell ill with sudden weakness and some day he would have his own children because that’s how it worked, how God had told them it worked and He never lied.

“D-Dad, say something, please. Daddy, say something!”

Cain was his son, too. The first Human ever born when Adam and Eve still struggled to provide even the most basic needs for themselves. He was a good boy—always so helpful, always so smart. He knew when food ran low, when the well pulled up dry, when the hearth burnt out, that it wasn’t easily fixed and so he didn’t complain and tried his hardest to make it better, somehow. He was a good son. 

So why had he done this?

“What happened?” Adam asked, still looking at those glassy blue eyes.

“I-” Cain stuttered, like he didn’t expect to be asked. “We went to bring out sacrifices to God. I brought what extra I had grown and Abel slaughtered a goat—the little one, with the limp. God accepted the goat but He…He said I was to do better.”

God was like that sometimes, Adam knew. He didn’t know why, maybe He just liked meat better than grains and fruit. 

Each time they had to butcher even a chicken Abel got—had gotten—upset. When they slaughtered the goats and sheep and cattle he always cried, but they needed to eat and God needed to be praised and worshiped.

“He- He always says that, but I give Him everything. I’ve always set aside the sweetest fruit, the finest wheat, the very best of the lot. I make sure to give Him everything Mom thinks we can spare—sometimes even more because I don’t want to disappoint Him.”

Cain sounded desperate. Like he needed Adam to understand.

“What happened?” Adam repeated. His voice thundered, and he saw Cain’s feet stumble back. Some part of Adam was distraught at having incited such a fearful reaction, but some other part nearly reveled in it.

“I was just so angry,” Cain said, sounding miserable and defeated and small. “It isn’t fair Abel is always getting praised when he’s choosing the weakest and worst of what he has. I didn’t…I wanted him to hurt but not this badly.”

“Wasn’t,” Adam said.

He was shaking, but not from cold or fear. Rage coursed through him like it never had before—not even when Lilith left him, or when he’d bitten into the Fruit and understand what they had just been tricked into doing, or when God had cast them from Eden.

“What?” Cain asked. He still sounded so small, like he was Seth’s age instead of nearly fifteen. Maybe even younger than that.

“It wasn’t fair. Abel was getting praised.”

“No! No, Dad, he isn’t- I didn’t-”

He understood what he’d done. He probably had since the very start, or close to it. He was never stupid.

“He is,” Adam said, and finally looked at Cain.

Cain looked lost. Frightened, in many ways, like every single thing he knew had been upended and scattered. Adam…couldn’t feel much of anything.

“He can’t be,” Cain said, a plea like a prayer. “I didn’t mean it.”

“He is. He’s dead. You killed him.”

“No,” Cain wept. “No!”

Adam was standing. His hands were covered in his son’s blood, his son who lay dead on the ground at his feet. Cain shrank away from him, like-

Like he was afraid Adam might kill him.

“Leave,” Adam said.

Cain sobbed. “No, Daddy, please- I didn’t know! I didn’t know!”

“Leave!” Adam shouted. “You killed him! Get away from here, get out!”

Cain tripped over his feet, scrapped a knee and both palms in the dirt. And then he ran.

Adam watched until he left the field they had tended together, that Adam had first sowed when Cain was first learning to wobble on chubby legs. He watched as he tore through the brush and sharp brushes, until he lost sight of his hair and brown tunic, until he couldn’t hear him in the forest. He stayed there, staring off into the space where he had gone, until a small lamb brayed near his feet.

The creature had crept closer to him and its fallen favorite master. It bleated at the boy crumpled to the earth, clean white wool coming nearer and nearer to being stained by the blood congealing in Abel’s clothes.

“Fuck,” Adam said. His boy—his boys. Cain and Abel, the first two and then only two for several grueling years. One always coming right after the other.

Hadn’t Eve seen this coming? Had a dream so terrible it woke her in the night with a start so strong it had woken Adam, too? She’d begged him to help them, their two eldest children, to prevent the animosity she knew was brewing.

Adam hadn’t believed her, not really. The boys adored each other, it was plain as day to see. Still, she had insisted and it wasn’t that bad of an idea to separate their area of work. Perhaps it would be best, in the long run, for Cain to know as much as he could about farming the earth and for Abel to know how best to tend to their animals. A downright practicality. Up until this moment, had Eve come to him again with her concerns, he didn't think he would have believed it. 

Even now, even after all this…he couldn’t actually believe that the two hated each other. Certainly not their sweet, gentle Abel and their thoughtful, dedicated Cain. Not when the roughest tumble they’d gotten into before had only resulted in bruises because they’d accidentally fallen from the river bank they’d been walking near. Not when Adam had watched Cain rise from the bed he and Abel shared with their youngest brother, delicately extracting himself from the tangle of limbs so as to not wake the others, only this morning. 

“Fuck!” Adam yelled, tears falling hot and fast.

It was frighteningly easy to gather Abel into his arms. To carry his limp little body back to the house—back to his bed, his mother, their hearth.

“Adam?” came Eve, as he entered their little yard. “What- no, no!”

She must’ve thought he was carrying something else, at least for a moment, but the instant she realized her scream was shrill enough to send the chickens flying to the trees.

“No, no, my baby, my baby,” she cried, running to Adam as if she could take the weight all unto herself. “No, please, this can’t- oh!”

From where Eve had come was Seth, only seven and still little enough to cling to his mother’s legs when uncertain. He looked very much like he would like to do just that, now, old enough to understand that he wouldn’t be able to. Not when Eve wept as she did, not when Adam’s face was wet, not when Abel was limp and Cain was nowhere to be found.

Eve crumpled to her knees, taking Adam down with her. Her arms crossed beneath his. Between them they cradled Abel, so small and so young and so very dead.

~~~

A/N: Full disclaimer I did in fact write this because I watched Hazbin Hotel. Yes, it did surprise me that such a stupid little show (that I have semi-complicated opinions about but did enjoy watching) inspired something like this. I don't think it's strongly related to Hazbin Hotel in any way, though it could be if I was actually interested in expanding it (and I'm not really). There is non-negligible impact from Supernatural and Good Omens in this as well.

Ao3 link if you're interested.

[bunny-jpeg]

"the bounties & death au" (a modern gods au)

a/n: 'sunlight' by hozier is burned into my brain

god of death!simon has been locked away for centuries, not able to return to the surface of the earth after being casted away into the shadows of the underworld. but once he finds himself free, in the countryside of england.

the world feels and looks different than what he remembered. it even smelled different. but the familiar grey sky of england loomed in a familiar way. the only thing in the distance was a small stone cottage with smoke coming out of the chimney. his legs felt weak, but he managed to make it to the cottage. it had been so long since he walked, after being chained on his knees. to walk again felt like being a newborn deer.

who was he to see on the other side of the door, was none other than you. you looked scared and quickly closed the door. you squeaked, "no one's home! please leave."

simon was a bit confused, his eyebrows knitted together as he knocked once more. he said in his low voice, "i know yer in there. please, let me in."

"are you going to kill me?" "no." "are you sure?" "i need help, i have no interest in killing ya." he lit up when he saw you open the door and look up at him.

you took him in but told him that he had to sit at the chair in the kitchen and not move. you knew it was a risk but, there was something familiar about him that you couldn't quite put your finger on. (you'd later recall when you felt close to death after the death of your previous boyfriend).

but simon is kind, you find it comforting to speak to him. he was calm and didn't move from the chair. when he moved as he ate, his movements were slow as to not scare you. simon thought of you like a rabbit. small and delicate, easily nervous.

the first act of kindness he had received in a long time was you sharing a meal with him. the gods didn't need to eat, but the warmth of the stew you made had him feeling warm.

you were an author who had stayed out in the country for some time in order to get a break from the weight of being in the city. you remarked that london was beautiful, and while simon had no way of imagining a city that big, he knew it was nowhere as beautiful as you.

he wouldn't make a move until your last night in the cottage before you headed back to the city. you said you'd drive him wherever he needed to be, but he said he had no home.

you asked him why and he said, "the place i came from. i cannot go back to." and while he hunched his shoulders, you reached up to him and allowed him to stay with you. you had grown to feel affection towards the man, even if you had many more questions about him than answers.

but that night, you shared wine together. you were all over him, your smaller body up against him. when he held onto your ass so you wouldn't fall over, you moaned. you giggled and told him you hadn't been held like that in a long time.

and for the first time in eternity, as simon thrusted into you, he would worship you rather than people worshiping him. as he held your hands onto the bed while you made love, he wondered if it was possible to build a shrine to you. to allow others to worship you the way he wished to do to you.

"you make me feel alive." you whispered in his ear.

an exhale left simon's lips, he then kissed you deeply once more. as you moaned into the kiss and wrapped your legs around his waist, all simon could think about was that he understood why humans were so desperate to get into the heavens. because if it felt anywhere close to how he felt next to you, he would scramble to get through the gates.

his little human, his little fruitful bounty <3

[realmsalot]

Oh, How Forgetful Of You

"Did you see him," Caryn asks, breaking the heavy silence. "Did you see him before he died?"

"Yes," he answers truthfully. She already knows that it him who asked Stanley to come up here.

"Did ya two talk?" And he knows what she's hoping for. He knows what she's hoping he'll say.

Yes. We worked it out. We talked things through. We apologize to each other. He died knowing his twin loved him.

He doesn't have it in him to lie.

--------

Or my take on a reverse portal au. Enjoy :)

Edit: So this isn't done yet. I was writing this on Tumblr mobile and thought I saving this in my drafts when app decided to post it! So now I guess this is sneak peak for a really long oneshot I'm working on. So enjoy I guess. I will appreciate any feed back on this. Don't write your fics directly on Tumblr.

Edit Edit:

Started posting the actual fic. It's a chapter fic now. Ao3 link

---------------

It's a cold March day in Gravity Falls. There's a fresh layer of snow on the ground glistening in the cool sun. And yet, the signs of the upcoming spring are as clear as the current sky. The snow is a mere inch on the ground, no where near the hight it was earlier in the year. There are starts of new growth on the deciduous in the area and songs from a few individual birds of migrating species that came back a tad early.

It's a beautiful day.

Even at a funeral, he acknowledges that. He's pretty sure everyone else there does as well.

Stanford Pines stands in front of an empty grave, with a hallow coffin waiting to be put in by its side and staring at the name of his twin brother etch on the headstone.

He knows that the death date on the headstone is wrong. It says that his twin had died last week, when the Stanley Mobile had careened off a cliff and was later found with no body inside. When he sent it off that cliff with a cut of the breaks, a quick hot wiring of the car and the heaviest chunk of firewood he had on the pedal. Stan had loved that car. Ford remembers the face - the smile that Stan had when he first bought it at sixteen. He remembers Stanley shoving him into that car for the first time before they went for drive, where they drove it way too fast with the windows down and shouting kings of New Jersey at the top of their lungs to celebrate. Ford remembers the last time he got in that car, screwdriver in hand, and looking around for just a moment and seeing stolen motel bedding on the back seats and trash on the floor consisting of fast food wrappers, bags convince store snacks, and losing lottery tickets. Stanley had lived in that car.

And now, thanks to Ford, the only things left of that car are a burnt pile of metal in the dump, the license plate sitting on a table in his cabin, and an old photo he stole from the drivers visor.

The death date on the headstone is wrong, but Stanford doesn't know what the real date would be. By the time Stanley had come, Ford was so paranoid and sleep deprived he didn't know what day it was anymore. But he should know. Ford should know the date. Ford should know the date he sent his twin brother to his demise. And he hates that he doesn't.

A hand touches his shoulder, and Ford is startled out of his recently encrypted head. He looks over.

It's Ma. And she's staring at the headstone, too. They stay silent for a while.

When Ford saw her arrive, he was honestly surprised she came alone. He thought for sure that she would somehow drag Filbrick or Shermie along, but no. She came alone.

The only other guest that came, aside from Fiddleford who came here for Ford not Stan, was an IRS agent. (And Ford is pretty sure he heard him whisper to the, "I know you're not dead," while glancing at Ford. )

Did Stan really have no one?

"Did you see him," Caryn asks, breaking the heavy silence. "Did you see him before he died?"

"Yes," he answers truthfully. She already knows that it him who asked Stanley to come up here.

"Did ya two talk?" And he knows what she's hoping for. He knows what she's hoping he'll say.

Yes. We worked it out. We talked things through. We apologize to each other. He died knowing his twin loved him.

He doesn't have it in him to lie.

"We talked," he starts. Scenes of that night flash in his mind.

Stan's face filling with hope as Ford talks about their old childhood dream. The way it fell as Ford tells he to sail away.

"We argued..."

I'm giving you a chance to do the first worthwhile thing in your life and you won't even listen!

"We fought..."

Stanley’s scream as he kicks him back dowases the anger for a moment, and Fort starts to apologize. And then Stanley punches him in the face, and it all comes back.

"And then he..."

Stanley had pushed over the danger line. Now all Ford can see is the fear taking over his brother’s face as he floats up to the open maw of the portal. And Ford stupidity calls out for him to do something. To not let his creation- his mistake eat him.

And Stanley does.

He doesn't doesn't hesitate to jump and push Stanford away from the portal. Consequently pushing himself in. And all Ford could do is watch as his self made monster ate Stanley.

"...he left."

It's silent again for nothing but a moment before Caryn starts to sob. She pulls Stanford into a hug that he weakly returns and she cries into the hand-me-down suit his father gave him.

Ford's eyes don't leave the headstone again until long after the mostly empty coffin is buried.

He had killed his own brother.

.-- .... .- - / -.- .. -. -.. / --- ..-. / .- / -... .-. --- - .... . .-. / .- .-. . / -.-- --- ..-

Stanford had contacted Fiddleford not long after Stanley went through the portal.

He needed help to finish the mind encrypter because it was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open and he knew that as soon as he closed them, Bill will come out and destroy it. He needed the mind encrypter to be finish and fast. He didn't know how much longer he could wait. So he went back to his ex-assistant, who (unfortunately) knows how to make machines that affect the mind best.

Ford was prepared to beg, having just lost a brother and just reached a breaking point that even his pride couldn't get to. But to his surprise, Fiddleford readily agreed. That was the second time that week someone whom he wouldn't want to see his again helped.

The mind encrypter got done in record time, and Stanford's mind was finally safe.

Then, for some reason, Fiddleford stuck around.

Then, for some reason, Fiddleford started acting like they're friends again.

[jandthecrow]

The Ghost

Simon Riley

SUMMARY: Simon Riley is sent back in time to kill the British parliament

CW: Death, talk of death, mentions of ‘atrocious crimes’, doesn’t go too into the deaths

Simon “Ghost” Riley had seen the impossible during his service with Task Force 141 - unthinkable operations, underground missions in hostile territories, and battles fought in the shadows where they can’t be found. But this? This was beyond his comprehension. One moment, he was in a shitty safe house looking over intercepted enemy comms. The next, a flash of light enveloped him, and he found himself standing in an unfamiliar room - ugly Victorian decor (Simon just didn’t like the look), with gas lamps flickering on the walls and a heavy cloud of cigar smoke hanging in the air.

He blinked, adjusting his mask as his surroundings came into focus. Rows of well-dressed men sat at long wooden benches, heatedly debating something that sounded vaguely political. He wasn’t just anywhere… he was in the British Parliament.

“What the hell…” Ghost muttered under his breath.

A loud bang startled him. Turning to his left, he saw a figure in a dark cloak and a crooked smile. “Simon Riley,” the stranger said, his voice low and conspiratorial. “You’ve been brought here for a purpose.”

Ghost’s instincts kicked in. His hand went to his holstered pistol, only to find it gone. Instead, he felt the weight of an old-fashioned revolver tucked into his belt.

“Who are you?” Ghost growled. “And where exactly is here?”

“London, year’s 1834,” the man replied. “The Parliament you see before you is overflowing with corruption, its members complicit in countless atrocities. History calls for a reckoning. That’s where you come in.”

Ghost narrowed his eyes. Time travel? Assassination? It sounded like madness… “Have I lost my shit?” Ghost grumbled to himself. But something about the man’s demeanor convinced him it wasn’t a joke. And if he’d been dropped into this chaos, he had no choice but to play along - for now.

“Fine,” Ghost said. “Who’s the target?”

The man handed him a parchment with several names scrawled in elegant, fancy handwriting - despite the irony he was about to do. Prime Minister Robert Peel, the Earl of Aberdeen, and a half-dozen other prominent figures.

“You’re mad if you think I can take them all out in one go,” Ghost said. “This place is crawling with guards.”

“You’re a ghost, aren’t you?” the man countered. “Disappear. Strike from the shadows. They’ll never see you coming.”

———————————————————————

The mission began as the debates continued late into the night. Ghost stalked the dimly lit corridors of Parliament like a predator, his footfalls silent on the plush carpet. He’d never assassinated a political figure (that he could remember), much less a historical one, but his training kicked in as he evaluated each target.

First was the Earl of Aberdeen, who lingered in the smoking room with a group of sycophants *cough* *cough* arse-kisser, stuck-up creeps. Ghost waited for the group to disperse, then slipped behind the Earl, choking him silently with a garrote improvised from a curtain cord. He laid the body on a chaise longue, arranging it to look like the Earl had fallen asleep.

Next was Robert Peel, the Prime Minister himself. Ghost found him alone in his chambers, writing by candlelight. For a moment, he hesitated. Killing soldiers in the heat of battle was one thing; this felt… different. But then he thought of the stranger’s words: corruption, atrocities. If these men were truly guilty, history would remember them differently.

He crept closer, his revolver aimed. The click of the hammer being pulled back made Peel turn, his eyes wide with fear. “W-who are you?” the Prime Minister stammered.

“A ghost,” Simon replied before pulling the trigger.

———————————————————————

By the time dawn broke, the halls of Parliament were in chaos. Guards scoured the building for the mysterious killer, but Ghost was already gone, melting into the foggy streets of 19th-century London.

He found the stranger waiting for him in an alley. “You’ve done well,” the man said, his grin as sharp as a knife.

“Send me back,” Ghost demanded. “I don’t belong here.”

“All in due time,” the man replied. “But first, there’s another mission. The course of history is fragile, after all.”

Simon “Ghost” Riley didn’t like being anyone’s pawn, but he had little choice. Adjusting his mask, he followed the stranger into the shadows, ready to face whatever the past - or even future - had in store.

@ghost-askblog here’s the story about you going back in time and assassinating the British parliament, cheers mate 🍻

[avatheraven]

Don't mind me, just advertising my fanfiction <3

Click here if you just want to give it a go on Ao3

Here's a Wattpad version if it's better for you

Anyways, it's a CoD Superhero AU with a gender neutral reader insert :D

BUT there's no Character x Reader because you're a minor whose new foster parents happen to be Simon and Johnny

You're also secretly an outlaw, using your power illegally just for fun, until Makarov escapes and you get involved in his shit even though you don't want to.

So now you have to prove that you don't know Makarov, escape from heroes like Ghost, Soap, Price, etc. and try to be a good kid in your foster home, not knowing that you live with superheroes who you hate (it's not the plot twist)

It contains fluff, hurt/comfort, angst it's literally just a comfort fic

Thank you if you take a look at it! <33

[lostintransist]

Death is Not Always Kind | Part 5

Part 1 here | AO3

This is my bad feelings fic. Meaning when I have big feelings cloying at my throat and choking off my air I put them here. I can't really recommend you read it, but go off your majesty.

Sleep is stolen from you as vomit coats your mouth.

Dreams should disappear.

Good ones.

Bad ones.

Weird ones.

They should cease to exist. All they do is torture.

Before the second round of acid eats away at your scarred lips there is a presence, a person, at your side.

A flashlight is turned on and pointed at the ceiling.

Then you are gone.

Sucked into the distant stars where time cannot touch and hands do not march on endlessly into the cosmos.

Coming back is a bit like pieces sliding into place as the sand that held them apart is siphoned away. It leaves grit between each bit.

The sound of a VHS tape being swallowed into the machine and its dance of humming would best explain your mind coming back online.

A mug of something warm is nested between your fingers.

Emotions sat distantly in your mind. The wiggles and lines of your pain trapped behind glass like a Picasso. Also fueled by misogyny and hubris.

Your ass is cold. Whatever you were wearing to bed did not keep nature from her due.

Looking from your hands to the surroundings you find you are seated on a curb outside of the building. The trees in the distant purple light of predawn are not shapes you are familiar with. Turning to the right, you find him.

Could be the smell, the slightest hint of cloves caught on the lightest of breezes. N sits beside you. He holds a mug like yours.

You should probably start calling him Nikto in your head.

When he lifts his mug it is only to one side of his mouth. The shapes molded of darkness in your vision are not your eyes playing tricks. He is missing part of his lips and a fair bit of his cheek that would normally hide his teeth.

A floodlight clicks on in the distance. The dim illuminated a few lumens brings more features into focus. Dark hair, half an ear missing, a nose that creates interest in a silhouette.

Shoes scrapping against the asphalt disrupts the tepid peace of the moment. A solider passes with a nod to you and a pointed avoidance of Nikto.

Watching the man disappear around a building and into the darkness beyond changed the tension again. With the light blinking off the darkness cloaked you, safety in its encompassing embrace.

At last, when the tea has gone cold, and the forceful shaking of your bones in your skin can no longer be ignored, Nikto looks at you.

The whole of him is scars.

It looks a lot you, when you can’t prevent your eyes from perceiving a mirrored surface.

He does not offer words, only a hand.

Resting the mug in his palm you fight every shiver that attempts to fracture your spine. Standing is a herculean task. Accomplished with the same weight of loss the demi-god must have felt to be violated by the untouchable rulers.

Nikto holds the door into the building open for you as each step quakes.

Too bad the gods had divined your fate, cast your lot with Sisyphus and Prometheus.

Death Masterlist | Masterlist

@meinemauschen @demothers-empty-blog

[hyperfixiation-station]

You Promised

TW: Major character death, canon typical violence I wrote this instead of working :3 enjoy Pairing: GhostxReader As always, not proof read, lemme know abt any mistakes/what you think. Also I quite literally wrote this right now so sorry if there's more than the usual amount of mess-ups.

There was a moment, when your eyes first met, that you knew this man would ruin you. It was a sudden burst of clarity, seeing him standing there, face covered, leaning against the wall. It’s like something was trying to tell you that getting involved with him would lead to disaster

Still, you decided to go for it. Those first few months were tense, full of anger and discomfort. It took years to get to where you are now. Years of patience, years of waiting, years of proving to Ghost he was worthy of love. 

The years had been wonderful. You remember the first time you saw his face, the first time your hands touched his hair. You remember the first time you went out, how his cheeks flushed and his eyes wouldn’t meet yours. You remember how it felt when it got down on one knee, both of you panting and bloody.

Yes, the years had been wonderful, but there had always been a sense of foreboding. Something terrible looming on the horizon.  And now, as you hold a cold body, as you card your hands through bloody blonde hair and cry, you know why.

“Stay with me.” You had cried. He had taken a shot meant for you, one bullet straight through his left shoulder and another embedded in his thigh. You had shot the man, emptying your magazine before falling, crashing to your knees beside Ghost’

“Price, I need a Medivac! Ghost is down, gunshot wound to the shoulder and thigh!” You yelled into your comm. Your hands moved to pressure the holes, one to his shoulder, one to his thigh. Just trying to stem the blood. His blood. His blood that bubbled up over your knuckles, thick, hot, and ruby red.

“ETA is 23 minutes.” Price's voice was garbled and broken over the radio, but you could still hear the despair in his voice. You sobbed harder as you realized help will not make it in time.

“Don’t,” Ghost had whispered to you, “I’m not making it out of this one.” His hands moved to your face, gloves shakily wiping tears from your face. 

“You’re coming home,” You had snapped at him, voice breaking, “You promised.” He shook his head softly, reaching up to pull his mask off. Blood leaked from his lips as he coughed. 

“Kiss me,” He had begged you, “Please.” You had shaken your head frantically, eyes blurring with tears, but you gave in. How could you not? Ghost never asked for anything. You could give him this. Your lips met in what was the most passionate, desperate kiss you had every had. You tasted his blood but didn't care, kissing him like it was last thing you'd ever do. You were kissing him when his body seized, and you cradled his head to your chest as he took his last, gasping breaths. You held him as you felt his body go limp and you held him as his body began growing cold. 

Your hand moved to your lips, where his blood was already drying. Tears leaked from your eyes, blurring your vision and soaking the collar of your jacket.

“Please.” You sob into his hair. There is no movement from the man in front of you. Blood seeps from his body, pooling under him, soaking your pant legs. Wind blows your hair around, tears sticking strands of it to your face.

“Simon please,” You practically beg him, “please, please, please.” Your world is breaking apart, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. The only thing that could pull you back from the brink was laying in you lap, unmoving.

Footsteps sound, but you don't go to reach for your gun. You could care less if it is friend or foe. At least you’d be with Ghost if you died.

You feel a hand on your shoulder, and see Soap appear in your blurry vision. The sight of the scot makes you sob harder, your fingers digging into Ghost's unyielding body.

“C’mon sweetheart, let's git him hame.” His Scottish accent fills your ears. His voice is thick, and you can know that the only reason he's not in tears over his best friend is because he's trying to be strong for you.

Your hands shakily trace Ghost’s face, his lips, his scars. You slip his dog tags off and pull them over your head.

“I love you,” You whisper, pressing a kiss to his cold lips, “I love you so fucking much. I love you, I love you, I love you. So wait for me, okay?” You squeeze his lifeless wrist 1,2,3 times. I love you.

Letting go of his body is the hardest thing you have ever done. Soap grabs your arm, helping you up. He lets you lean against him, leading you away as Price and Gaz take the body. You look back with blurry vision, watching them drape a sheet over the stretcher holding your world.

The wind blows across the battlefield, and with it you can hear the echoes of an unheeded warning, a promise of a life of ruin.

I made myself cry while writing this lmao.

[persephoneflowerpetals]

‘Til Death

Chapter 12: Hostile Takeover

Chapter 11: Last Chance

Chapter 13: It’s Happy Ending Time!

Back in the Underworld, Hecate, Canis, and Lupus were scattered about the throne room in search of something of high importance. 

“UGH! Where in this lifeless realm is that stupid key!?” Hecate exclaimed as she looked behind Hades’ throne. 

“Jeez, don’t you just hate it when you lose your keys?” Lupus asked as he flew up next to Canis.

“I know, it’s the worst.” Canis replied.

“Without the key to the Underworld, I can’t claim this domain as my own! I need that key!” Hecate explained as she plopped herself onto Hades’ throne to think, her chin in the palm of her hand as she tapped her fingers on the arm of the throne.

“Well, we looked just about everywhere, so if they’re not here, then they must be with Hades.” Canis said as he flew over to Hecate’s side.

“And he’s still on his date with the powder puff.” Lupus added, following Canis.

Hecate gave a menacing grin as she steepled her fingers, sitting back in Hades’ throne. “Hmm, then I’m sure he’ll be crawling back here all alone any minute now.” She surmised.

Right at that moment, the doors to the throne room opened with a loud, echoing creak as Hades and Persephone entered, walking hand in hand with a smile on their faces that immediately faded when they spotted Hecate sitting on Hades’ throne.

“Wow…that’s pretty good timing.” Canis said.

Hades frowned as he let go of Persephone’s hand, eyeing the smug goddess on his throne. He opened his arms in a welcoming fashion as he approached her.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my biddable little underling. What a surprise.” He said with feigned cordiality.

Hecate gave him a wry smile as she rose entirely from the throne, her feet hovering about a foot off of the floor as she floated over to the couple.

“In the immortal flesh.”

“So, Hecate, babe, to what do I owe the displeasure of having you and your filthy winged mutts back in my domain?” He asked, crossing his arms.

Canis and Lupus took immediate offense to the comment and rose from the floor, each flying to Hecate’s side.

“Filthy!?” 

“Mutts!?”

Hecate placed a hand on their heads and slowly pushed them back down to the floor.

“Down, boys.”

The pair of empusa walked off in opposite directions, both giving Hades a side-eyed glare.

“You didn’t get the memo, Hades? As of today, the Underworld is under new management.” She explained as she snapped her fingers, quickly manifesting heavy golden chains to wrap around both Hades and Persephone.

The couple fell to their knees as soon as the thick chains appeared on their bodies. They wriggled and squirmed, trying their hardest to break or slip out of the chains, but it was no use.

These unique and powerful chains were the same type of restraints Hades had used on the gods when he held them prisoner during his siege on Olympus. No god could ever break the chains once restrained, no matter how incredibly strong they were. The only way they could escape the chains was if someone freed them, and that didn’t seem to be happening any time soon.

Hecate grinned wickedly as she floated back over to Hades’ throne and sat down, chuckling as she watched the deities struggling to free themselves of their constraints. 

“Oh, this is just rich! I’d tell you both to give up now, but it’s just so entertaining to watch you both suffer! I swear, this is better than any Greek tragedy I’ve ever seen!” Hecate laughed.

“I mean, really, Hades. Did you honestly think things would just undoubtedly work out for you? That you’d be able to beat the sundial and get everything you want in the end? Well, news flash, old-timer: your time is just about up.” She taunted as she manifested her hourglass into her hand.

“I guess you procrastinated a little too long with those wedding plans, huh, lover boy?”

Hades looked up at Hecate with a mix of anger and confusion. “Who told you?” He asked, the question sounding more like a demand rather than a query.

Persephone glanced between the two gods, wondering if she was missing something. “Told her what?”

“You mean you forgot? Wow, those nymphs were right. You really are as dumb as you look.” Hecate scoffed as she rolled her eyes. Hades and Persephone both frowned at the comment while Hecate continued to speak. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember the reason why you and Hades had even met in the first place.”

Persephone thought back for a moment, recalling her first encounter with Hades and why he had originally dragged her down to the Underworld.

Then, a sudden look of realization came upon her as she looked over to Hades, her tone sounding almost hurt, “Your powers…I didn’t…I thought you just made that up...that’s…that’s why you proposed.”

Hades looked at her apologetically. He knew how this all looked, and the last thing he wanted was for her to think that he was playing her for a sap. He opened his mouth to speak but was abruptly interrupted by Hecate.

“That’s right. Your precious Hades may have fallen madly in love with you over time, but you were always his one-way ticket to getting what he truly wanted all along: his powers.”

She then rose from the throne once again to approach the gods. Hades sneered as he watched Hecate float over to Persephone.

“And if I had to guess,” she said as she snatched the daffodil Persephone had been holding out of her hands, inspecting it as she held the stem between her fingers, “I’d say you fell right into his trap, didn’t you?”

The couple glared at Hecate as she continued to mock them, “Well, I’d ask what to bring to your wedding, but…there won’t be one, because you’ll be dead, and he’ll be wasting away in Tartarus!” she cackled as she carelessly tossed the daffodil behind her shoulder, letting it fall to the floor like a worthless piece of garbage.

Meanwhile, Pain and Panic stood outside the entrance of the throne room, carefully peeking their heads out as they watched the scene unfold. They looked at each other nervously, realizing that this was practically all their fault.

“Oh, I knew this was gonna come back to bite us in the tail! Oh, this is so bad! We can’t just go in there and stop them! Hades and Persephone will be done for! What are we gonna do!? What are we gonna do!?” Panic fretted quietly as he trembled and paced around anxiously. 

“Relax, would ya?! We’ll just go for help!” Pain suggested in a hushed tone, trying to not draw any attention to themselves.

“Go for help?! Even if Persephone’s down here, what kind of god is gonna want to help Hades?!” Panic asked frantically. 

“I wasn’t talking about a god.” Pain replied with a devious smirk. 

Panic froze for a moment as he stared at Pain, his expression now matching his friend’s as he nodded. “Ahh, now I gotcha!”

“C’mon! Let’s go!” Pain said as he and Panic ran down the stairs. 

~X~X~X~X~

It was a surprisingly quiet night in Thebes. In an enormous palace not too far from the hustle and bustle of the big city-state, Megara stood outside, taking freshly dried clothes hanging from a clothesline and folding them neatly into a woven basket as she hummed a sweet little tune.

Not too long after Hercules chose to stay on Earth with Meg, he invited her to move in with him in his huge palace, knowing that her company would make the place feel a lot less empty. They’ve been together for about two years now and were still just as crazy about each other as they had been when they first met.

Just as Meg grabbed the last of the laundry, she turned to find the familiar sight of her beloved boyfriend and his trainer coming in for a landing on his trusty bird-brained steed, Pegasus. She smiled as she folded the last toga in her hands and placed it into the basket.

“Hey there, tall, Greek, and handsome. I see you saved the day again.” She greeted as she watched Hercules and Phil dismount from Pegasus’ back.

Hercules chuckled and approached Meg, brushing back his wavy ginger hair. “Yeah, it took all day to take down that Nemean lion, but I got the job done.”

“I’ll say!” Phil added proudly. “You should’ve seen ‘im in action, Red! That kitten had no chance against ‘ol Herc! We would’ve brought home a pelt if it weren’t for those stinkin’ ‘monster animal rights’ activists. Buncha hippies.”

Hercules chuckled again as he crossed his arms. “It’s alright, Phil. I don’t need to bring home a trophy every time I save the day. As long as everyone’s safe, I’m happy. That’s what being a hero is all about, right? Defending the defenseless. I learned that from the best.“

Meg giggled and shook her head. “Wonderboy, you truly have a heart of gold.” She said as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Unfortunately, the sweet moment between them didn’t last very long, as they were interrupted by the sound of distant panting and wheezing. Meg, Hercules, Phil, and Pegasus all turned their heads to find Pain and Panic flying towards them.

“Her—huff—Herc—huff—Hercules!” Pain wheezed as he stopped flapping his little wings and landed on the ground face-first, while Panic landed on top of him, causing Pain to groan in discomfort.

Meg scowled at the imps and planted her hands firmly on her hips. “Great. Look what the three-headed dog dragged in. What do you two want?”

Pain lifted his head with a bunch of grass stuck in his mouth. “We — phlbew,” he spit out the grass before speaking again. “Uh, we need your help! Like, yesterday!” Pain said, as he shoved Panic off of his back with his elbow.

“Yeah, right. Like, I’m gonna believe that.” Meg replied skeptically.

Panic, now regaining some of his energy and strength, hopped up from the ground and dusted himself off. “No! No! H-Honest! We—We really need your help! The Underworld is in danger!” Panic exclaimed with urgency.

“Aw, that’s a load of minotaur manure if I ever heard it! Everybody knows Hades got outta the River Styx about a year ago. The Underworld should be just fine with that schlub runnin’ the place again.” Phil said, as he crossed his arms and frowned.

“No, you don’t understand! Y’see, it’s a long story that we really don’t have time to explain, but the important thing right now is that Hades and Persephone are being held captive by Hecate, and if we don’t save them this very second, then Hades is gonna lose his powers, Hecate’s gonna take over the Underworld, and then she’s gonna get rid of Persephone! The entire cosmos is hanging in the balance!” Panic frantically explained.

“Persephone?” The trio asked in unison.

“As in, the Goddess of Spring?” questioned Hercules.

“Yeah, and she ‘n Hades are gonna be up the River Styx without a paddle if you don’t do something! You gotta come with us to the Underworld before it’s too late!” Pain urged.

“Hecate can’t rule the Underworld! She’s just as evil and ruthless as Hades! She doesn’t even offer paid vacations in her minion benefits package! That’s just cruel and unusual! Please! You gotta believe us!” Panic pleaded.

Meg eyed the imps suspiciously before glancing over at Hercules. “I don’t buy it. If I know Hades, and unfortunately, I do, he probably just fed them that story to lure you down there.” She surmised.

“I’m with Red on this one, Herc. These bozos are up to somethin’.” Phil added, as he looked up at Hercules.

Pegasus whinnied and squawked as he nodded his head, agreeing with the pair.

Hercules looked at the three indecisively before looking back over at the imps who were now begging to the demigod on their knees.

“Please, Hercules! Ya gotta help them!” Pain pleaded.

“If you won’t do it for Hades, then at least do it for Persephone! She’s the sweetest goddess in the whole pantheon! She doesn’t deserve any of this! If Hecate gets rid of Persephone, then there won’t be any spring, then Demeter will get mad and start a famine, and then the entire cosmos will be doomed!” Panic desperately implored as Pain nodded in agreement.

Hercules looked at them apprehensively and closed his eyes before letting out a big sigh. “Alright…I’ll go.”

“What?!” Meg and Phil exclaimed in disbelief as Pegasus squawked in surprise.

“Herc, kid, ya can’t be serious!”

“You actually believe them?! It’s obviously a trap!”

“Yes, I do believe them.” Hercules answered confidently. “Hero rule number 79: A hero is willing to put their personal opinions aside to help those in need. Besides, even if it is a trap— “

“Which it’s not!” Panic declared.

“I’ve defeated Hades before, and I can certainly do it again.” Hercules continued as he walked back over to Pegasus.

“At least take me with you so I can help! I know Hades better than you do.” Meg suggested while she chased after Hercules, stopping him from mounting the flying horse.

“Meg… I want to, but…I can’t. I really don’t wanna risk losing you again, especially if this is a trap. If you go with me, Hades could use that against me to get what he wants. I promised myself I’d never let anyone hurt you ever again, and I’m gonna keep that promise.” Hercules explained as he gently brushed Meg’s long, auburn bangs out of her eyes.

“Well, then…ya better come back in one piece. ‘Cause I’m not losin’ you either, ya big lug.” Meg said with a warm smile as she cupped Hercules’ cheek, looking him in the eyes.

Hercules smiled back as he gazed into Megara’s beautiful violet eyes. “I always do.” He softly replied as he tenderly held her hand that cupped his cheek.

“Hey! Can ya save the kissy-kissy stuff for later? The cosmos is still in danger, y’know!” Pain shouted.

Meg rolled her eyes as Hercules climbed onto Pegasus’ back. Pain and Panic then riotously ran towards the winged horse, Pain tripping over Panic’s feet in the process as they called out to Hercules.

“Hold on! Wait!” Panic yelled.

“We flew all the way out here! At least give us a ride!” Pain said as he and Panic were suddenly swooped up by Hercules and placed onto Pegasus’ backside.

“Aw, why do I have to ride in the back?” Panic pouted as he covered his nose while looking at Pegasus’ tail.

“Alright, Pegasus! Let’s fly!” Hercules gallantly commanded. Pegasus squawked as he spread his large white wings and flew off into the night sky. Pain and Panic screamed in fear as they clung onto Pegasus for dear life while Meg and Phil watched the lot fly out into the distance, hoping that the imps were genuinely telling the truth for once…and that Hercules would actually return.

~X~X~X~X~

“Just how do you plan on killing an immortal goddess?” Persephone asked with a disbelieving tone.

Hecate grinned devilishly, “Easy. You turn them mortal.”

With the flick of her wrist, Hecate manifested a small glass vial with a skull shaped topper into her hand, a bright pink liquid bubbling inside of it.

Hades recognized the glass vial in an instant, his eyes widening in surprise. “Wha— How did you —?”

Hecate rolled her eyes exaggeratedly as she shook her head, “Oh, come on, Hades. You’re not the only god in the cosmos with the power of alchemy. I am the Goddess of Witchcraft, after all. I can create any potion imaginable. Even the highly exclusive ones…like yours.”

Hades scowled at her as she continued, “However, my concoction is much more efficient compared to that dud you used on that nephew of yours. I guess you could say it’s more…potent. Just drinking more than half of this potion will cause any deity to be completely mortalized, and once your darling Persephone does just that, I’ll have my minions take care of the rest.”

Lupus and Canis then approached Persephone on each side of her, licking their lips as they bared their razor-sharp teeth.

“I call dibs on the torso. Lots of extra meat.” Canis said as he and Lupus eyed Persephone like a juicy steak.

Hades grimaced as he watched Hecate’s minions try to intimidate Persephone, wishing he had the strength to break the chains that confined him so he could burn them to a crisp. Hecate then raised her brow and smirked at Hades insidiously.

“However, I could spare her life…if you hand over the key to the Underworld.” She suggested as she casually eyed the potion in her hand.

Hades simply rolled his eyes at the idea, “Yeah, not gonna happen, babe. Nice try, though. A for effort.”

Hecate shrugged as she turned away from the gods. ���Well, then, I suggest you say your final goodbyes while you still can.”

Hades wasn’t buying it. Everyone loved Persephone. If anything happened to her, Hecate would feel the wrath of all Olympus. She wouldn’t dare. 

“Please, you’re bluffing.” He scoffed.

“Oh, am I?” Hecate asked with an amused and cocky smirk. She then snapped her fingers as Persephone disappeared from Hades’ side and reappeared by Hecate in a puff of dark blue smoke.

Hades watched as Hecate opened the vial and grabbed Persephone’s face, squishing her cheeks so she’d be forced to open her mouth. She then brought the vial close to Persephone’s lips, tipping it ever-so slightly. 

“What was it you always said? ‘Everybody’s got a weakness?’ Well, I believe I’ve found yours, haven’t I? How much do you love her, Hades?”

Persephone stared at the vial in terror as she watched the pink liquid slowly flow towards the lip of the vial. She then looked at Hades, hoping he’d do something, anything to help her.

Hades internally panicked, as he looked at Persephone’s terrified expression. Obviously, she wasn’t bluffing. How ironic that the very same potion Hades had created to take down Zeus was now being used to take him down.

Persephone tried jerking her head back, but Hecate kept her grip on her cheeks. The potion was mere inches away from spilling over the lip of the vial. Just a single drop could transform her into a demigoddess.

“Alright!” Hades shouted.

Hecate lowered the vial a bit, still keeping it near Persephone’s mouth as she waited for Hades to admit his defeat.

“I’ll give you the key. The Underworld’s yours, but only if you leave Persephone alone…and make me mortal instead. You can do whatever you want with me after that.”

“Hades!” Persephone exclaimed in shock.

Hecate let go of Persephone’s face and moved the potion away from her mouth as she floated closer to Hades. “Well, that’s certainly an interesting offer, but I have to decline. She’s my insurance, after all and I simply can’t run the risk of her ruining my plans, now, can I?”

“What risk? It’s Persephone! She’s a seasonal goddess! C’mon, what’s she gonna do? Flower ya to death? She’s harmless!” Hades casually stated, sounding as if he were trying to settle a deal.

Persephone frowned and raised her brow, feeling rather insulted by the statement. “Excuse me?”

Hades ignored her and continued, “Think about it, babe. Even if she goes and blabs about this to the entire pantheon, they won’t do anything. They hate me up there. They’d be more than happy to get rid of my handsome mug, so why waste your potion on her when you can put it to good use with me, huh? What have you got to lose?”

“That’s…a surprisingly good point...that requires some thought.” Hecate said as she tapped her chin. She then turned to her minions and snapped her fingers.

“Boys! Staff meeting!”

Canis and Lupus immediately flew over to Hecate who began whispering to them, trying to properly weigh the pros and cons of Hades’ proposal.

“Hades! What are you doing?!” Persephone asked quietly, wondering why he would go to such extreme measures.

Hades looked at her sympathetically as shrugged, “Saving your immortality, babe. Hey, I mean, I’m losing my powers anyways. I might as well be mortal. It’s not a big deal.” he admitted.

Persephone began to tear up. Hades was genuinely serious about this. He was actually willing to turn mortal and lose not only his life, but everything he had just for her safety. She couldn’t let him do this.

“Yes, it is! It’s a huge deal! She will kill you, Hades!” She quietly exclaimed as her tears started to fall down her rosy, pink cheeks.

As much as Hades hated to see her so upset, he gave her a soft smile, trying to reassure her that he was perfectly content with his decision. “I know, and I’m fine with that if it means you’ll be okay. Believe me, I’d much rather go back into that river for eternity than see you floating in there.” He confessed as he looked into her tearful eyes.

“Hades…” Persephone choked back a sob. She couldn’t believe that Hades was willing to go through with this…all for her.

Hades then forced his attention back to Hecate, “Hey! Do we have a deal or what?”

“No! Hades! Don’t!” Persephone cried.

It took all of his willpower, but Hades refused to acknowledge her. There was no going back on this, and he couldn’t let her change his mind, no matter how hard it was to listen to her desperate cries.

“Hmm…” Hecate hummed as she placed the top back onto the vial and turned back around to face Hades.

“Don’t do this. Please.“ Persephone softly wept, hoping that her pleas would convince Hades to come to his senses and back out of the offer.

“Deal!”

Hecate grinned fiendishly as she snapped her fingers, the chains confining Hades disappearing from his form so he could take the large black key out of his himation. Hades then begrudgingly handed over the key to Hecate who immediately snatched the key out of his hand to ogle it like a precious jewel.

The Underwolrd enchantress raised the key up in the air victoriously as she cackled. 

“At last! The Underworld is finally MINE!”

“That’s what you think!” A distant, echoing voice called from outside of the throne room.

“What?!” Hecate exclaimed in confusion as she, Hades, and Persephone looked around the throne room in search of the mysterious person.

SWOOSH

In came Hercules, flying into the throne room with Pegasus through one of the windows that overlooked the River Styx.

“Wonderboy?!” Hades asked in pure bewilderment. Hercules was the last person he expected to come to their aid.

Hercules then drew his sword and led Pegasus towards the three gods below, the flying steed swooping down past them in a flurry of blue and white as Hercules cut the chains that were wrapped around Persephone with his sword while one of Pegasus’ wings collided with Hecate’s hand that held the key.

Hecate gasped as she watched the key go flying across the room. She whipped her head around and sneered at Hercules as she pointed to him.

“Get them!” She commanded her minions.

Lupus and Canis did as directed and flew over to Hercules and Pegasus hovering above the 3 deities; the pair of empusa bared their teeth and growled ferociously.

While Hecate was momentarily distracted, Persephone quickly took the opportunity to take the potion away from her, darting towards her and reaching out for the potion as she bumped into the enchantress from behind. Hecate, not expecting the sudden collision, dropped the vial, the glass shattering on the floor as the pink potion spilled out and immediately evaporated into thin air. 

“No! My potion! Ugh, you stupid little —“ Hecate yelled as she summoned a large ball of dark blue static-like power into her hands to attack Persephone. 

Just as she raised her hands, ready to attack, she was hit with a small ball of fire, the flames barely hitting her shoulder. She looked over at Hades, who was glaring at her, and scoffed.

“Ha! Was that supposed to stop me?” She asked with an arrogant smile.

“No, actually, it was supposed to distract you.” Hades answered with a smirk.

“What?!” Hecate turned her head and gasped in surprise to find Persephone going for the key across the room and grabbing it from the floor.

“Hades!” She called out as she threw the key over to him.

Both Hades and Hecate attempted to catch it, reaching up for it in the air, but unfortunately, Persephone had thrown it too high for them to catch, causing the key to fly right over their heads and out of the other window in the throne room. Hecate went towards the window and watched as the key fell straight down to the ground floor and landed with a faint, echoing clink.

“My bad.” Persephone apologized with an embarrassed and slightly anxious smile.

Hecate grimaced furiously as she floated towards Persephone, powering up her hands once again. “Oh, it will be.” She threatened before throwing a large ball of magical power at Persephone, the harsh blow causing her to fly backwards across the room and straight into the wall.

Persephone groaned and winced as she held her abdomen where she had been hit, doubling over in pain in a fetal position.

“Persephone!” Hades cried out as he watched Persephone take the hit. The god, completely infuriated by the fact that Persephone had been injured, then mustered all of the little bit of power he had left in him to fight Hecate, glowing as red as he could as he growled and gave her a death glare.

He formed a medium sized ball of fire into his hand before throwing it directly at Hecate who countered it with her powers. The goddess then blasted Hades with a burst of her own power, causing him to stumble back a bit, but Hades wasn’t giving up. Back and forth, Hades and Hecate barraged each other with magical power and blasts fire until Hades finally became too weak and exhausted to keep going.

Hecate immediately took notice as she continuously assaulted him with surges of her powerful static-y magic until he fell to the floor. Hades, completely worn out from the intense fight, tried his best to find the strength to keep fighting back as he attempted to get up from the floor.

The enchantress approached him, looking down at him as she chuckled villainously. “Not so hot now are you, Hades? Look at you. You’re pathetic. You don’t stand a chance against me.” Hecate spat before raising her hand, summoning a very large ball of power to finish him off.

“But I do!” Persephone said confidently from across the room as she stood from the floor.

Hecate, not perceiving Persephone as a threat, smirked and laughed. “Okay, powder puff. You wanna play the heroine? Show me what you got.” Hecate taunted as her hands glowed dark blue with power.

Persephone glowered at the opposing goddess as small vines covered in thorns started to curl around her wrists and up to her shoulders.

Meanwhile, Hercules and Pegasus remained above the three gods, as he fought back against the two flying wolves who snapped, snarled, bit, and scratched at the horse and hero, all while nimbly weaving between giant stalactites that jutted from the ceiling of the throne room.

“Hyah! Get back!” Hercules shouted as he swung his sword at one of the wolves who swiftly dodged his swing, the edge of the sword just barely clipping their fur.

“Y’know, for the son of Zeus,” Canis began nonchalantly as he dodged another swing from Hercules’ sword, “— I thought he’d be way better at this.”

“I know, right? This guy is supposed to be ‘The Hero of All Heroes’? Give me a break!” Lupus agreed as he dodged a hind kick from Pegasus.

Suddenly, the booming sound of large feet reverberated from outside of the throne room, the power of each step causing the ceiling to quake as bits of stone fell to the floor. Canis and Lupus, who were flying across the room and away from Hercules and Pegasus, paused for a moment.

“What in the Underworld is that?” Lupus asked.

BOOM!

“YEE-HA!”

Pain and Panic burst through the doors (and walls) of the room atop Cerberus whose three heads aggressively snarled and barked at the empusa.

“Oh, this is so not worth the pay raise! I’m outta here!” Canis exclaimed as he cowered back in fear.

“Right behind you!” Lupus added as the pair of winged canines made a hasty retreat out of the throne room window, all while yelping and whining like a couple of puppy dogs.

Pain and Panic laughed triumphantly and they high-fived each other as Hercules and Pegasus flew over to them.

“Hey, nice job, fellas. Not bad for a couple of henchmen.” Hercules said with a smile.

“Aw, well, y’know!”

“Heh, heh! You’re too kind!” The pair bashfully gushed before Cerberus ran out of the room, barking and snarling, most likely trying to chase after the empusa.

“Woah! Hey! Good doggy! Slow down!” Pain exclaimed as he and Panic tried their best to stay aboard the giant hound.

Back on the ground, Hecate and Persephone were still entangled in a raging battle against one another. Thorn-covered vines now covered most of the throne room, causing it to look almost like a jungle and Cerberus’ abrupt entrance didn’t seem to deter either goddess from fighting.

Persephone commanded another vine to burst out from the small cracks in the floor of the throne room to wrap around Hecate’s ankle in attempts to ground her and keep her from floating above the floor.

Hecate easily escaped the vine’s grasp and vaporized it with her powers as she floated towards Persephone who was now backing away from her. The enchantress then casted another powerful blast of power towards Persephone, who nimbly dodged the attack.

“Why don’t you just give up, Persephone? Hades isn’t worth fighting for! Look at him! He’s a loser! He used you! He’s only marrying you because he wants to keep his status as a god! He doesn’t actually love you! Just do yourself a favor and let him go already! You don’t need him!” Hecate persuaded as she gestured towards Hades who was glaring at her from floor, still struggling to regain his strength so he could help Persephone.

Persephone glared at Hecate as well before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Y’know, Hecate… I’ve been doing what everyone tells me to do for my entire life, which is really long time, and honestly…” she explained in an unusually calm tone, “…I’m sick of it!”

The spring goddess then summoned yet another vine from the floor, this one much thicker than the others she had created before, as it wrapped around Hecate’s legs, keeping her grounded to the floor.

Hecate attempted to escape from the vine’s grasp, but its grip was far too tight for her to get away. She then proceeded to blast away the vine with her powers, but the vine remained around her legs. She looked up at Persephone in bafflement.

“Wha—?! How?!” 

Persephone manifested another pair of thick vines from the ceiling of the throne room that briskly wrapped around Hecate’s arms and torso, making her look just like Hades and Persephone did when they were bound by her chains.

Hercules saw the vines emerge from the ceiling and got a clever idea. He looked at Pegasus with a knowing smirk before leading the flying horse over to the vines to detach them from the ceiling. 

Persephone glanced up and watched as Hercules took the vines in each hand. He smiled and winked at her as if to silently tell her he had a plan. She smiled back as she covertly used her powers to let the vines grow longer as Hercules and Pegasus flew across the room.

Persephone looked back over at Hecate who was still struggling to escape the grasp of the bulky vines.

“I am the Goddess of Spring, and nobody can tell me what to do, what to think, how to feel, or who I can and can’t love…” Persephone confidently proclaimed as she slowly approached Hecate who stared at her anxiously. She stopped once they were face-to-face and looked her at with a steely and dauntless expression.

“Especially. Not. You.”

Persephone waved her hand in the air and in an instant, the vines that held onto Hecate’s legs loosened up. Hercules, who had secretly coiled the vines from the ceiling tightly around the large stalactites on the ceiling, immediately let go of the vines in his hands, causing Hecate to go flying around the room in a burst of speed that could possibly match Hermes.

Hecate screeched and hollered as she was suddenly flung out of the window of the throne room, landing straight into the River Styx with a big splash.

The angry, miserable souls immediately started grabbing onto her to drag her under as she struggled to remove the tangled-up vines from her body while shoving the dead souls off of herself. Persephone rushed over to the window and smirked as she watched Hecate in the river.

“Ugh! Ulch! Get off of me, you disgusting mortals! Don’t touch me! Ugh!” 

Hades pushed himself off the floor with a strained grunt as he made his way over to the window to join Persephone in watching Hecate get her just desserts.

“Don’t fight back, Hecate! It only makes ‘em angrier!” He sarcastically shouted to her with a smug grin.

Persephone laughed as she looked over at Hades who looked weary and tired, despite his arrogant smirk.

“Are you okay?” She asked with concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Hades casually replied with a shrug. He then looked away from Persephone, with a guilty expression as he rubbed one of his shoulders.

“Look, Seph…about that whole proposal thing, I didn’t —“ Hades began before Persephone cut him off with a quick kiss.

She looked up at him and smiled, trying her best not to laugh at his dumbfounded expression, “I know. My answer still stands.” she said with a smirk.

Hades smiled at her affectionately, very relieved that she didn’t take his proposal the wrong way.

“I just can’t believe you were willing to give up everything…for me.” Persephone confessed as she brushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

Hades’ affectionate smile remained on his lips as he wrapped his arms around her waist to pull her closer to him. “Seph, baby, best believe I’d do anything for you. You know what they say: People do…stuff when they’re crazy in love or…I dunno, somethin’ cheesy like that. Whatever.”

Persephone laughed as he leaned in to kiss her once again, their lips meeting as they held each other close.

Just then, Hercules and Pegasus, who had flown out of the other window after the couple reunited, re-entered the throne room. Hercules noticed the pair in a loving embrace and slowly approached them with an awkward and slightly uncomfortable smile, however, neither deity seemed to notice his presence. He glanced over at Pegasus, who had a disgusted expression before covering his face with his wings. The demigod rolled his eyes and shook his head, trying not to laugh, before looking back over at the couple. He cleared his throat, feeling a tad guilty that he had disrupted their romantic moment.

“Ahem…um, sorry to interrupt.”

The couple broke their kiss and turned to look at Hercules. Hades immediately gave him an annoyed frown.

“Are you still here? Get lost already, would ya, huh? I’m kinda busy here.” He snipped as he gestured to Persephone who gave him a stern look.

“Hades!” She scolded.

Hercules chose to ignore the rude comment as he handed the key to the Underworld over to Hades, “I believe this belongs to you.”

Hades scowled as he quickly snatched the key out of Hercules’ hand and shoved it back into his himation. “Alright, now beat it. Amscray, before I sic the dog on ya.” Hades bluntly demanded as he nodded towards the now destroyed entryway of the throne room.

Persephone rolled her eyes before giving him a small shove with her arm, trying to get his attention.

“What?” Hades asked her, still annoyed by Hercules’ presence.

“Be nice! Thank him!” Persephone whispered as turned towards Hades and nodded towards Hercules.

“Nice?! Babe, the only person I’m willing to be nice to is you, okay? I’m not gonna thank that chump! I didn’t want him coming down here in the first place! I hate him!” Hades hissed as he turned to Persephone.

“He was kind enough to help us! Just say thank you!”

“I’m not —“

“Can you do it for me, at least? Please?”

“Oy…fine. Okay.”

The gods turned back towards Hercules as Persephone smiled at him politely. Hades rolled his eyes and frowned as he crossed his arms, pouting like a moody teenager.

“I suppose I should thank you for coming down here to help us out…” Hades began, refusing to look at Hercules.

“But, I won’t! So, goodbye! Exit’s that a-way! Don’t let the gates hit ya on the way out, Wonderboy!” Hades said sarcastically with a fake smile as he pointed towards the demolished exit.

Persephone sighed and facepalmed while shaking her head, realizing that it would probably be futile to try and get Hades to actually be civil towards his nephew. She gently grabbed Hades’ arm as she gave Hercules a kind smile.

“What he means to say is…thank you, Hercules. I know you’re not especially fond of Hades after all the terrible things he’s done to you and the rest of the pantheon, so it means a lot that you were willing to come down here to help us.”

Hercules smiled and bashfully chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck, still not really used to conversing with the gods so casually. “Heh, well, there’s no need to thank me.”

“Yeah, I coulda told ya that.” Hades mumbled under his breath.

Hercules ignored him as he continued, “I’m just glad I was able to make it here in time to help.”

Hades rolled his eyes once more, clearly annoyed by his “kind and humble hero schtick”.

“Yeah, whatever. Just don’t think this whole escapade changes anything, alright? You and your old man are still at the very top of my list.”

Hercules looked at Hades, his smile fading a bit as he replied, “And you’re still on mine…uncle Hades.”

Hades glared at the demigod’s sarcastic little remark, secretly wishing he had enough strength and power to take him out. Persephone looked at Hades, noticing that his flame was very small and weak now that he used most of what was left of his powers to fight Hecate. She then remembered that Hades was on a time limit and could probably lose his powers completely at any time now. 

“Wait, Hades, how long do you have before you lose your powers?” Persephone asked with urgency.

The question immediately brought Hades back to the reality of the moment. He was still on the verge of losing his powers. He glanced up at his head, not able to see his flame, but knowing that it was probably puny by now. The god sighed and looked back at Persephone.

“By sundown tomorrow.”

Persephone instantly perked up with a smile. “That’s great! We have plenty of time! We’ll just go to Olympus and get married before —“ She said happily before Hades spoke up.

“Uh, one small wrinkle, babe. I’m still banned.”

Persephone’s joy quickly faded, “Oh, right…. I forgot.”

“Why don’t you two just get married here in the Underworld?”  Hercules suggested.

“We can’t. In order for a marriage of the gods to be binding, we have to get married on Olympus by your mother, and if Hades is banned then…we can’t get married…and Hades will lose his powers.” Persephone explained before looking over to Hades who was looking back at her with disappointment. He noticed the solemn look on her face, as if she were about to cry, and wrapped his arms around her to hold her close.

Hercules looked at the gods with concern. He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he thought Hades losing his powers would be a very fitting punishment after all he’s done. However, he knew that wanting petty revenge like that would be stooping down to Hades’ level and that’s something he’d never do as a hero.

After all, he was willing to put his grudge against Hades aside to help take down Hecate and save the Underworld. It would be cruel of him to just walk away and leave them miserable like this.

There had to be something he could do to help them. Hercules stood there and pondered for a moment until a viable idea came to mind.

“Hold on, I think I can pull some strings.”

[coefficiente]

ao3 bookmarks wrapped (end of year) - interest survey

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