#the soul is wandering and the spirit is in hades

[massiveladycat]

if you didnt get a coin in your mouth when you died in ancient greece, you weren't able to go to the underworld, and no men at sea got a burial (elpenor was actually very VERY lucky) so technically polites and all the others are just wandering alone and afraid and confused in their death places. polites sits in the cyclops cave, eurylochus and 580?? men are forever at the bottom of the sea, and 6 are still near scylla

[cheese-wizard]

The Interactions between Frinos and the stray spirits are so funny to me in Hades II, Imagine you're some lost soul wandering wherever you are and all of a sudden this angry princess storms in, kills a bunch of monsters and then shows you a frog, telling you there is a safe place for you where you are welcome.

10/10 would absolutely follow any girl if she showed me a cool frog

[astra-ravana]

Celebrating Samhain

Samhain, pronounced "SAH-win", is the eighth Sabbat and final spoke on the Wheel of the Year. With ancient Celtic origins, Samhain was one of the four fire festivals, and falls at the halfway point between the Autumn Equinox ans Winter Solstice. Opposing Beltane on the Wheel, Samhain also similarly features a 'thinning of the Veil', a time when the barrier between our world and that of spirits and other magickal entities is weakened and easier to cross. While Beltane famously is a strong time to interact with the Fae due to the Veil thinning, Samhain is most known for interactions with spiritual entities, the dead, and ancestors.

Samhain is also known as the third and final Harvest Festival (the first being Lughnasadh, and the second Mabon). The frost is coming, and most of the produce has been collected from the fields and stored away. As people prepared for oncoming harsh weather and lack of food/resources, they had to cut back on everything that wasn't crucial to their survival. Thus, this festival was the time of the animal harvest. All creatures who could not be fed through the harsh Winter were harvested during this time, and celebrated for their sacrifice.

Other names for Samhain and similar celebrations include:

• Halloween

• All Hallow's Eve

• The Witch's New Year

• The Third/Final Harvest

• Calan Gaeaf, "The First Day Of Winter"

• Oiche Shamnhna

• All Soul's Day

• All Saint's Day

• Devil's Night

Common Samhain Traditions

• The Dumb Supper is when a meal is hosted and consumed by the living, but the dead and spirits are invited to participate and given seats and places at the table as a sign of respect. Often the windows are all open during a Dumb Supper to invite the spirits into a home. Sometimes specific spirits or ancestors are invited or the invitation is simply left open to any spirits that wish to attend. The living attendants traditionally eat in silence to honor the spirits and hear their messages.

• Carving Jack-O-Lanterns originally came from the myth of "Stringy Jack", which is an Irish folktale about a man who tricked the Devil and now has to wander the world with a lit piece of coal protected inside a carved turnip. This evolved into people carving their own turnips and potatoes and placing them in windows or doorways to scare away Stringy Jack and other tricky or potentially harmful spirits. Once Irish immigrants came to America, the tradition was continued with pumpkins.

• Trick-Or-Treating is also derived from old Samhain traditions. The Celts believed that by dressing up they were disguising themselves from negative spirits who wandered the Earth on Samhain. In the Middle-Ages, "guising" was when children or impoverished people would dress in costumes and go door-to-door begging for food in exchange for songs or prayers. This practice was known as "souling" and the participants called "soulers". In Ireland, the practice of "mumming" involved dressing up in costumes and going door-to-door to sing in exchange for tasty cakes and baked goods.

Samhain Correspondences

Colors:

• Black

• Green

• Orange

• Purple

• Red

• Silver

Crystals:

• Black Obsidian

• Bloodstone

• Amethyst

• Black Tourmaline

• Carnelian

• Jasper

• Jet

• Malachite

• Iolite

• Onyx

• Vivianite

• Ruby

• Smokey Quartz

• Garnet

Herbs/Plants:

• Cedar

• Allspice

• Cinnamon

• Hemlock

• Sage

• Rosemary

• Patchouli

• Hazel

• Dittany of Crete

• Bay

• Clove

• Belladonna

• Dragon's Blood

• Wormwood

• Mandrake

• Mugwort

• Snapdragon

• Gourds

• Nutmeg

• Frankincense

• Ginger

• Pine

• Hyssop

• Marigold

Animals:

• Bats

• Snakes

• Cats

• Spiders

• Scorpions

• Coyotes

• Jackals

• Dogs

• Wolves

• Foxes

• Crows

• Ravens

• Owls

• Rats

• Stags

Food/Drink:

• Pumpkins

• Cider

• Beef

• Chicken

• Pork

• Cranberries

• Turnips

• Potatoes

• Garlic

• Soups/stews

• Pears

• Corn

• Ale

• Apples

• Grain

• Pies

Deities:

• Hekate

• Lucifer

• Anubis

• Loki

• Lilith

• Morrigan

• Nyx

• Hades

• Persephone

• Osiris

• Apollo

• Cerridwen

• Hel

• Freya

• Demeter

• Bast

• Mercury

• Yama

• Dis

• Herne

Magickal Workings:

• Spirit Work

• Ancestral Work

• Banishing

• Cleansing

• Divination

• Baneful Magick

• Shadow Work

• Rebirth/Resurrection

• Transformation

• Creativity

• Defensive Magick

• Preparation

• Ambition

• Purification

• Protection

Bonus: Samhain Incense Recipe

• 2 parts Rosemary

• 1 part Frankincense

• 1 part Cinnamon

• 1 part Cloves

• 1 part Patchouli

• 1/2 part Sage

• 1/4 part Hyssop

• Pinch of Sea Salt

[tylermileslockett]

The Greek underworld, or House of Hades, is generally described in Homer’s Iliad as a gloomy place of “the mists and the darkness” (Lattimore) where the spirits heroes and villains alike come to rest. Hermes as Psychopomp (Spirit guide), would lead the new spirits down into the land of the dead.  Souls would first drink at the River Acheron (river of sorrow) or sometimes mentioned as the River Styx (to specifically forget their past pains), then they would be ferried across by the boatman Charon for a coin placed within their mouths or upon their eyes. Souls would drink from the River Lethe (river of forgetfulness) to forget all memories of their previous lives, then pass through the gates guarded by Cerberus, the hound of Hades before being presented before Hades, and his wife Persephone. The other two  rivers of the underworld are the River Phlegethon (river of fire) and the River Cocytus (river of wailing) both associated with punishment.

         The Souls would then be judged by three demi gods: Minos (son of Zeus and Europa), Rhadamanthus, (son of Zeus and Europa), and Aeacus, (son of Zeus and Aegina.) and would choose a final place for each soul amongst the following locations:

the Asphodal meadows, (asphodal is a white lily associated with death), is where ordinary souls were forgotten, wandering in monotony amongst misty darkness. The Elysian fields, also known as Elysium, is described as a paradise where the honored heroes go to live in white houses amongst fields of gold, ripe fruit, and temperate weather. Tartarus is a realm residing a vast distance below Hades, and is a place of cruel, eternal punishment that, according to Hesiod, even Zeus feared. Here the defeated Titans were held, imprisoned in chains, as well as mortals who committed crimes against the gods, like Sisyphus, Tantalus, and Ixion. In addition, the Erinyes, (or Furies), the three goddess of blood retribution and punishers of criminals were said to inhabit this dreaded realm.  

If you share this image I'll pass you a golden ticket to the Elysian fields! Xoxo

Support my book kickstarter "Lockett Illustrated: Greek Gods and Heroes" coming in early 2024.

[deconstructthesoup]

Okay, I had thoughts on forming a legit DBD Hadestown AU, and seeing as they kept me up literally all last night, it seemed only fitting that I actually write them down. So:

Charles and Edwin are, obviously, Orpheus and Eurydice respectively. However, rather than having just met and falling into a whirlwind romance, I decided that they're childhood friends who've met again and rediscovered feelings that they'd both been ignoring for a long time. Edwin is dedicated soley to figuring out why the world is dying and if he can help people while he can, and he hasn't really let himself rest, or even feel happy, in years---to the point where he feels that any good thing is too good to be true, even falling in love. Charles, on the other hand, has long since made the decision that someone has to be happy and keep spirits up in the trying times, and it might as well be him... even at the cost of his own health, as he works tirelessly on a song that he knows, despite all logic and understanding, will bring back spring again.

Crystal is Hermes, but she is also Hecate---she is the goddess of the in-between, magic, trickery, the crossroads, and restless souls... and that last part refers not only to the dead that she guides to Hadestown, but to anyone who chooses a life of wandering the road, from the honest messenger to the thieving highwayman. And yet, since the world has begun to die, she's been slowly slipping away from her role, choosing to spend her time among the mortals. This decision, of course, is helped by the fact that not only is Crystal one of the few gods who thinks there's more to the world dying than it just being "a reflection of mortal hubris," but that she's managed to make a friend in Charles. She's seen the way that music can change the world, after all, and knowing that there's at least one mortal who still has hope means that she can still believe.

Niko is a combination of Aphrodite and Dionysus---she's the goddess of love, revelries, happiness, and abundance, yes, but she's also the goddess of the mania that comes when all of those things are taken too far, and she's been dipping more and more into that side of herself as the world gets worse and worse. She wants to forget all the pain and suffering, and she gives herself and others the means to do so, even if it's all temporary. And while Niko does care for the mortals, and wishes that things could get better... deep down, she's lost a lot of her old hope, and even she can't disguise the fact that she's living with a broken heart.

Monty is Persephone, but he's also Apollo---he's the god of rebirth, prophecies, the stars and the earth, and new beginnings... and for what should be half of the year, he rules over the dead. He used to find just as much joy in watching over the souls as he did creating spring with Niko and charting the stars to bring prophecies to the mortals, but as Hadestown gets more punishing, more people die up above, and the world just gets worse, Monty grows even more bitter and closed off. He's unable to even properly enjoy his time on the surface, knowing full well that he won't stay for six months like he should... and the man he loves is wearing his patience thin.

The Cat King is Hades---and yes, somebody did make a very compelling argument for him being the Fates, but it works for the story, so just hang on. Once upon a time, he was happy just ruling over souls and managing the afterlife, and he cherished the time he spent with Monty as much as he could. But over time, wealth became added to his already vast domain, and his fascination for making and collecting things became an obsession... in no small part due to the fact that those six months spent away from Monty started to weigh incredibly heavy on him, and he eventually loses himself in his effort to replicate everything his husband loves about the upper world as it dies along with the way they used to feel about each other. Not to mention, his old empathy and compassion for the souls has hardened into cold indifference at best and a sick enjoyment of their suffering at worst. And all this change is making one person in particular very happy...

Esther is the Fates, but she's also a version of Demeter---the goddess of nature and all of its love and cruelties, and the one who spins everyone's path on her loom, punishing those who dare to stray from what she has determined for them. She's despised the Cat King for years, ever since he whisked Monty away to Hadestown, and she wholeheartedly believes that the reason the world is dying is only because he's been keeping Monty down there for too long, not because they've begun to fall out of love. So, when Esther spins a tale of a pair of lovers who are destined to end tragically, she sees it as an opportunity to finally push the Cat King and Monty to the breaking point---to save her son and the world, she tells herself, but mostly for revenge.

[tagthescullion]

The Undead Diary of Luke Castellan

Fandom(s): Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Rating: T

Summary: It's not Luke's fault the Underworld is understaffed and some of its doors connecting with the living world are left unattended.

Words: 2929

AO3 link

I’d like to begin this story by saying this wasn’t my fault.

Not completely. Or well, not exactly.

The decision was mine, I guess. Except that it wasn’t a decision. More like an impulsive action that turned out to have big consequences.

But, in my defence —a line I’ve been using a lot these past few years, and, come to think of it, all of my life—, I was left unsupervised.

Let’s go back to the beginning.

I died.

Was it painful? Yes, very. Was it unfortunate? Many would disagree. Did I have it coming? I might have, yeah.

At any rate, my arrival in the Underworld had been most expected (by both the demigods alive and the ones whose deaths I’d had a hand in). All things considered, betrayal to the gods and my old camp-mates and whatnot, I hadn’t exactly hoped for a loving welcome committee. 

If I’m honest, my judgement and the execution of my sentence were far less harsh than I probably deserved.

Hades himself was in charge of my fate, and to my utmost surprise, he vetoed the judges’ decision to let me burn in acid in the Fields of Punishment. Instead, he suggested I made myself useful, to account for all the destruction I’d brought.

“My domain has expanded exponentially in the past century,” Hades had said. “Daedalus has proved a worthy addition to my efforts to keep it organised efficiently, and you will follow his example if you’re smart.”

And for the past year I had done my job well enough to keep the Lord of the Dead content.

Daedalus was grateful for another pair of hands, so to speak, for I’m not entirely sure I really had hands, or if my spirit’s consciousness believed it hard enough to make it feel that way.

The old man was an incredible and astute engineer, but he had trouble controlling his workers. I, on the other hand, had no idea how to even build a bridge with legos, but I had lots of experience in the field of leading reluctant people, monsters, and even minor deities into battle, which meant organising souls into efficient work groups was a piece of cake. And so I did —carefully watched by one of Hades’ Furies, of course—.

At the beginning, I didn’t see any fellow demigods. Not any I knew, anyway. I was sure some of the souls working under me had been demigods in the past century. 

It wasn’t that I didn’t have the time, Hades had given me Wednesdays off —I didn’t really know what day of the week it was, time is an elusive variant in the Underworld, but the Fury was kind enough to remind me—. I just didn’t have the courage to face my old acquaintances just yet.

I kept to the outskirts of Elysium. Souls don’t need to sleep, don't need to eat, don't need to do anything, truly. So I wandered around, looking remarkably like the souls who’d forgotten themselves after so many years. 

One day, I was spotted by Lee Fletcher. 

It felt like a dagger through my unbeating heart. Lee Fletcher had been my best friend and the second person I’d failed to convince to turn to Kronos’ side. I was glad Lee hadn’t joined in the end, but I’d been shattered when I learned of his demise in Zeus’ Fist at camp.

Lee didn’t look particularly surprised, though. 

“I was hoping you’d show your face around eventually,” he’d said. “You deserve a punch in the face and a friend to listen to an explanation.”

I had then offered my old friend a crooked smile. “That’s why I didn’t come round.”

Lee walked with me for a while in silence. I didn’t feel like explaining, and I suppose Lee didn’t feel like forgiving just yet.

After a couple of weeks, it became our Wednesday routine. Lee dared to speak before I did. He told me of what he knew of our respective siblings, and what he knew of everybody else, really. Demigods died and brought news even after the Battle of Manhattan. Obviously, a lot less frequently, but demigod life wasn’t easy in peace times either.

At some point, Lee managed to convince me to meet Silena. 

I assumed if anybody was also wary of our former friends it was her. She’d been a marvellous informant, but that had also made her an incredible traitor.

There was a fraction of a second of tense silence when we stood face to face. Then Silena bursted out into sobs and hugged me tight.

“We fucked up,” she cried. “We fucked up, we fucked up…”

I agreed, of course. Gods, we’d fucked up big time.

Slowly, Lee threw more people my way. 

Traitors at first, all of them filled with guilt and remorse. I imagine if they weren’t, they would’ve been burning in the Fields of Punishment with the acid the judges had wanted for me.

Then, there’d been a couple of kids who’d never joined my side. They were reluctant, I knew, but they clearly respected Lee enough to go along with him. 

Eventually, I got used to the nasty glares, but, more surprisingly, I started getting comments around the lines of, ‘Something had to be done, though’, ‘They really don’t care much about us, do they?’.

Through Lee’s diplomacy and my visible humility and apologetic behaviour —which wasn’t natural to me, but I wasn’t exactly in a position to start defending myself—, my old friends appeared on my Wednesday walks without being coerced. And I even stopped dreading those meetings so much.

That was until spirits started disappearing.

It was rather chaotic at first. There was fear around, which wasn’t common in Elysium. 

But then the fear turned into hope. They didn’t disappear. Rumours said they were going back to life.

My inner curiosity got the best of me, as it always did.

One Wednesday, I led Lee and Silena to Melinoe’s cave. She wasn’t home, which made me wonder whether she was in her father’s castle or just roaming around, scaring the shit out of innocent mortals. 

When Melinoe wasn’t in her cave, there was always Thanatos, I knew, making sure nobody snooped around like we were doing. Thanatos was a rather strict fellow, and a very good ally to Hades. 

In retrospect, it was easy to see he hadn’t been seen around in a long while. But then again, it’s easier to notice those things in hindsight. Time, as I said before, is hard to keep pace of in the Underworld.

“I don’t like this,” Lee said. “I don’t think we should be here.”

“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “Worst case scenario, they’ll blame me.”

Lee smiled. That had been a thing even before I left camp. Whenever something fishy happened, Chiron was always quick to point at me rather than Apollo’s golden son.

“I’d rather they blamed nobody,” Silena said. “This place feels terrible, let’s go back.”

I stared at my friends. Didn’t they realise? Thanatos wasn’t here, neither was Melinoe, the Furies would need some time to catch us.

“It’s a way out, guys!”

“Out?” Lee’s expression turned uneasy. “Listen, Luke, we shouldn’t mess around with that idea.”

“It’s been done before,” I insisted. “Or almost.”

“I’m with Lee,” Silena said. “What’s happened, happened. We can’t leave. We can’t go back.”

“There’s nobody here!” I took another tentative step into the cave. I felt a pull, pushing me out into the open, but I went further in. “It feels… strange.”

I felt warm and cold at the same time. I hadn’t felt much since I’d died. My spirit had felt a trace of sensation, but it was muted. As if it was a memory rather than the real thing.

Could I possibly go out? Into the living world?

Over the past year I’d pushed down those feelings of incompleteness. There were still so many things I wanted to do. So many apologies. But two in particular. There were two people I’d have given anything to see.

And perhaps, if there was nobody to stop us, we might be able to leave!

“Luke, stop it!”

But Lee’s voice grew dimmer in my ears. 

I could meet them again, my two girls. Explain, tell them how sorry I was. 

The force pushing me back grew stronger with every step, but it was no match for my determination.

Step after step, the sensations enhanced in my chest. Cold and warmth, and even a hint of nausea. The ground sloped down, slowly at first, then steeper as I kept going.

Then I realised I could smell. It didn’t smell like a musty old cave, it was the smell of summer. Of hot wind and freshly cut grass.

It only made my resolve stronger.

It was pitch dark. The light from the entrance of the cave had been lost completely. 

I went another step further. Then another step. And another step.

I took a deep breath. I could breathe. I was breathing!

Another step. Another step. Another step.

The sound of my heartbeat filled my ears. Loud, strong, quick. Deafening.

Another step. Another step. Another step.

The force pushing me back was so strong now, that I almost tripped. But I regained balance and managed to keep going.

Another step… Another step… Another step…

Then the ground disappeared. 

And I fell.

-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z

My first sensation when I woke up was warmth in my face. 

A memory stirred in my mind. The smell of ripe strawberries, the laughter of children free for the summer holidays, the rhythmic sound of waves, a towel under my body, and the warmth of the sun hitting my exposed skin. 

It was the sun. The sun! I was feeling the sun on my skin!

Then the feeling disappeared, and the brightness I could see through my closed eyelids banished.

A soft hand patted my cheek carefully.

“Hello?” Said a woman’s voice. “Young man?”

I opened my eyes slowly. Outlined by a halo of sunlight the face of a pretty woman of about thirty hovered around a metre away from me.

I tried to speak but my throat felt like sandpaper. 

“It’s okay,” she said. Her voice held a trace of an accent. “It takes a while to get used to being back.”

Back.

In spite of the burning feeling in my throat, my face split into a grin.

“Back,” I rasped. “I’m back.”

The woman helped me sit up. 

I studied her properly now. Her skirt, blouse, and sweater looked old-fashioned. Her hair was loose, but it curled in that style I’d seen in a thousand WWII movies. She had a warm smile and a clever look.

“I’m Luke,” I said, offering her a hand. “My name’s Luke Castellan.”

“Maria,” she replied. 

She looked at my hand and shook it after a second of hesitation. 

“I keep forgetting Americans shake hands. So impersonal,” she stated with a raised eyebrow. Her tone was teasing though.

“Are you—” I caught myself. “Were you dead too?”

“Right to the point, yes?” She smiled. “Yes, I was dead. I have been for a while. But now I’m here, and I need to find my son.”

“Your son?” I was surprised. 

My perception of ‘mother’ isn’t the best, but this woman didn’t look like a mom to me. She looked like an old time movie star, those that always had perfect make-up, in the black-and-white photos I’d seen in the cinema close to my place in Connecticut. 

“Yes,” she said. “My little boy. He should be an old man by now, I would have expected.”

“But he isn’t?” I wondered.

She shook her head, anger and sorrow transformed her expression.

“My daughter passed away,” she told me. “Not too long ago. She should have been old, but she was still a girl.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. I looked down, and when I spoke it was full of bitterness. “Children’s lives should never be at risk.”

And despite what many may think, I do believe that kids shouldn’t be put in the line of fire.

Maria nodded, swallowed, and composed herself so fast I felt a little thread of envy. If only I could’ve put up a cheerful façade that quickly…

“You don’t look old enough to die either,” she decided, giving me a once over.

“I think I deserved it,” I admitted. ‘It was my choice’ sounded a bit too harsh. “Besides, I’m 23, that’s better than dying as a child.”

Maria huffed. “23 is still so young.”

“As opposed to…?” I asked. 

She seemed horrified by my audacity. 

“A lady doesn’t ask nor answer that question,” she said firmly. “And neither should a gentleman.”

I shrugged. She sounded fancy. I guessed in whichever time she came from, old-money people stuck to those ridiculous social rules.

“What do you know of your son?” I wondered. “Do you know where we can find him? Hell, do you know where we are?”

I scanned my surroundings. My eyes were unused to the sun, which made me squint a bit. 

It looked like a meadow. The land was flat, not a hill on sight. The grass was green and soft under me, and far to my right, there was a big house.

“Italy,” she said. “Veneto.”

Holy shit. 

“A bit far from where I expected to be,” I said.

“The Underworld has many exits,” Maria told me. 

My muscles tensed. I had assumed she was a lost mortal, who had followed the path out of the afterlife by accident, but mortals in Italy wouldn’t be likely to call the Underworld by that name. Nor, I guess, would they be likely to have children who were supposed to be old but looked young.

“Oh, I know about all of this,” she smiled. “My children are— were, like you. Demigods. I’m… what’s that term he used? Clear sighted?”

I nodded.

Italian demigods. Did I know Italian demigods? Probably a fair few, but I wasn’t sure if any of the ones I’d met were from Veneto.

And she said she had died ages ago. Whoever her children were they would have been taken out of time. 

It rang a bell in my memory, but my mind wasn’t clear enough yet for me to recall properly. Not to mention I’d known dozens of demigods who had bizarre stories. 

Thalia was a tree for a while, she’d looked younger than she should have been that time she pushed me off that cliff. 

Annabeth and her little gang had been in that Casino thing in Vegas, that had messed up time for them, too. 

And the Sea of Monsters, there were a lot of islands there where children could have been stuck in time for decades.

“Are your—,” I hesitated. “Did your children ever get to camp? Camp Half-Blood, in New York?”

Maria’s expression turned dubious. “I think so. Bianca didn’t explain much, she didn’t stay long. But I reckon wherever my boy is, it’s in America. That’s the last place I saw them.”

That’s where she had died then.

“Then camp’s our best bet,” I said. “He’s alive, he’s likely to have at least crossed paths with somebody from there.”

She nodded. 

She turned and pointed at the house in the distance. “That’s my family’s home. You can stay there for a bit. To rest.”

She stood and offered a hand for me to get up too.

“I— Yeah, thanks,” I said. I felt weak. I’d just come back to life. She was right to say it took some adjustment. I wondered how long she’d been back. “I could use a place to sit for a bit.”

In exchange, I could help her find camp and her son. Assuming the kid was still alive, that was. I wouldn’t go to camp myself. I’d be stoned the moment I set a foot in there. But leading Maria there was the least I could do after she’d been so kind to me.

I just hoped her son wasn’t somebody I knew. That could make things awkward.

We walked for a bit in silence. As we got closer, the house grew bigger and bigger. ‘House’ was an understatement, I thought. The place was huge. 

Balconies, huge floor to ceiling windows, at least four storeys tall. It had a path that led to the main entrance lined with orchard trees, and off to the side there was a less pretentious dirt path that I assumed went to the servant’s entrance.

“I’m sorry,” I said, before I could stop myself, pointing at the immense building in front of us. “But did your family own Italy?”

Maria gave me a funny look. “It’s not such an ostentatious place.”

Perhaps if you are related to the Windsor family, then Maria’s family’s house isn’t ostentatious. If, like me, you come from the US suburbs, then it’s something taken right out of Downton fucking Abbey.

“My father was a marquess,” she explained, when she caught my cynical expression. “Sua grazia, il Signor di Angelo, and all the paraphernalia it came with. The house is all right, but we weren’t…”

But I had stopped listening.

Di Angelo. I did remember that name. Di Angelo was that little kid who’d popped out of nowhere with an army of undead soldiers and his godly father on toe.

But not even I couldn’t be that unlucky. 

“What’s your son’s name?” I asked, as casually as I could.

“Niccolò,” she said with a proud smile. “But everybody always called him Nico.”

Nico. Nico di Angelo.

Well, fuck. To nobody’s surprise, I could be that unlucky.

[whereserpentswalk]

There was, in the days of generations now passed into the gates of hades, a spirit that guarded a road. He was a kind spirit; he had been in the place for as long as anyone can remember. They say he looked like a tall man in shining green armor, with the wings and arms of a mantis. Nobody ever saw the face below his helmet. He was a kind spirit in those days, a protector of the travelers and the wanders. Those lost in the night he would show the way. He would walk with those who needed protection. The shops on the side of the road would put out warm milk and meat pies for him, and he would award them with money and customers. And any church that preached that he was an unclean thing would find themselves restored by termites and rats without his dear protection.

They say one day, as he walked alongside a young woman as she made her way home through a cold winter's night, a man came up to her and tried to take her away at the point of a knife. The spirit was enraged, and melted the attacker's eyes from his skull, and closed the holes in his face under his body died from lack of air. It was a brutal fate, though a fair one for a soul who would have done worse to one more innocent. And from that day forth the spirit spoke that anyone who walked along that road would be protected by the spirit's magic, and anyone or anything, human or beast, spirit or cryptid, who tried to bring those who walked his road to harm, would suffer a horrifying fate.

Though the people were protected, the road changed. First slowly. Automobiles began to appear, fueled by the fossils of the dead, and soon stoplights to tell when people were permitted to walk. Soon what was once the edges of the road was sidewalk. The road was paved again and again. And soon there weren't trains and weren't trollies. And store after store closed down, for new stores to be opened, giant boxes owned by corporations, with massive parking lots outside of them, that would never think to leave out milk and meat pies. And then one day there was no stoplight, and no sidewalk, because any place where human feet could be permitted to walk had been removed. They called the road a highway than, and the humans' leaders were proud of it. It was too noisy for even the wyverns to fly over, and too barren for even werewolves to hunt. But the spirit was still there.

And then the spirit took up a new banner. When the last safe place to walk was gone, and the first human was struck and killed trying to cross the highway, he had dropped the banner of the seelie court and taken up unseelie way. Not out of vengeance but out of duty.

All who seek to harm those who wish the walk the road are caused by his law, and those new powerful machines called automobiles are no different. Cars that drive through the great spirit's road find themselves crashing into each other, or spinning randomly and flying around the road, or breaking down and never moving around. Mechanics can't figure out why, can't explain why there are always flies and worms and snakes and scorpions in every car that passes through that road. Even the drivers aren't safe, nobody who would drive such a lethal machine through the spirit's road is safe, they find their bodies bleeding, and skin dashed with cuts as if from an insect's claws, and minds filled with eldritch madness. And they say there are many cars that seem to lose their drivers, with only bugs or toads in their place.

Some still see the spirit's body in the dark of the night. He's changed now, his armor has turned night black, and its shape twisted from what looked like a knight's suit, to an insect's strange shell, his once slender body stretched to an inhumanly elongated and spindly build. His claws are now like great blades, and where his face was once only in shadows, now two glowing eyes can be seen from below his helm, like a dark pervasion of headlights. But he is still the same creature he always was, this is only another side of the same being. And those animals and jaywalkers who cross the highway, will never be hit under his gaze, even if a thousand cars burst into flames to keep them safe.

[egginround]

Winter Sun

Achilles and Patroclus go on a long-awaited day out.

Achilles x Patroclus, wordcount: 3.3k, CW: None - Written as a gift for @vityamins as part of @thehadeslounge's 2023 Holiday Gift Exchange!

If Patroclus had known Achilles would suggest such outlandish ideas, he would’ve reconsidered following him in such devotion. Though, of course, it is both a blessing and a curse that he can be so utterly persuasive.

Together, they travelled through a dim corridor of the Temple of Styx, far too narrow and winding for any sane shade to wander across. A hand in his lover’s hand, Patroclus let himself get dragged along by Achilles. The blonde warrior himself somehow seemed beside himself in excitement. It was quite a change from his usual wise and mature demeanour.

For Patroclus at least, It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to trusting Achilles. There were many times in their mortal lives where Achilles’ judgement kept them safe from danger, his skill kept him in awe, and his love kept a lightness in Patroclus’ heart, a flutter reserved for only him, that has attached itself irreversibly to his sorry soul. It’s just that, after countless years together, it was unlike his beloved to abandon such care.

Finally, they reached their destination. Dodging the fragile stalactites that grazed his hair, Patroclus took in the damp, dark surroundings. Usually such close quarters with his love wouldn’t be remiss - encouraged even - but the secrecy made a faint furrow appear on his brow.

A rickety old door stood before them. Perhaps an unfinished hallway during the construction of the Temple of Styx, Patroclus mused before his companion brought him out of his thoughts. He huddled in closer before spying Achilles reaching into a leather pouch.

His partner unfurled his fist and within it lay two silver rings. Even in the dark, Patroclus could see their almost ephemeral form, as if they could phase out of existence at any one time. He peered at them, watching the way his beloved thumbed the enchantment etched onto their inner face.

“Hades forgive me for not turning these in as soon as I saw them,” Achilles breathed out. There is no tremble in voice, no doubt that clouds his words, but Patroclus knew him inside out. He knew that he would not risk his master’s anger without due cause.

“My love, do I spy a hint of rebellion?” With a twinkle in his dark eyes, Patroclus rested his hand on the small of his love’s back, encouraging him to go on. “It is unlike you to be this secretive.”

He smiled at the blond man, but a tinge of unease pulled it wider than usual. Intimate years together and unbearable ones apart, their bond was strong and transcended even mortal life. Still, a quiet Achilles was not one he was used to - especially when together (and when his lips were not otherwise occupied). Gently, he nudged him to continue. For all his efforts, Achilles just bumped his forehead against his.

“These two rings from a shade sentenced to Asphodel. One that used to be at the height of fame in Elysium before they were punished for contraband,” Achilles said, rolling them deftly between his fingers. The sleek silver might have seemed at odds with the warrior’s calloused hands, but when it were those same hands had held Patroclus so gently, had soothed the worry from his skin countless times - it only felt right. “Thanatos held onto these prior to me.”

“Ah, the spirit of death?”

“The very same,” Achilles said, fondness colouring his voice. “It was actually by his grace that I came by these. ‘A favour’, he said to me. I think he may have been satisfied to finally see the lad happy, and somehow thought that I was the one to help.”

The gleam in his eyes spoke of memories of fonder times and younger love that squeezed Patroclus’ heart.

“If he is feeling the way that I suspect, then he can only be half as blessed as me.”

“Hush, love.” A silly smile crept onto Achilles face as Patroclus fiddled with the pale hair that peeked out his hair band.

“These relics are powerful. They -”, Achilles cleared his throat. “They could bring us to the surface for but a day.”

Patroclus stilled.

Fear is for the weak, Patroclus knew this. But, a well-advised avoidance to further danger could always be appreciated. A shade stepping out to mortal soil would have been banned thrice over if Hades knew of it, and with the short time that had passed since their reunion, Patroclus could think of nothing worse than to be ripped from Achilles’ arms again.

Ever attendant, Achilles noticed the shock in his beloved’s eyes.

“I know.” He soothed his partner’s panic with a touch, fingers shaking slightly as he laced their hands together. “But please, let me do this for you. Just this once.”

The tension in Patroclus’ throat persisted, but ultimately it was hard for him to resist. Not when the red brushing over his lover’s cheeks seemed to rival the blood of titans themselves. Not for the man he loved.

Patroclus in turn tugged Achilles’ fingers in, curling them further into his palm. The hitched breath his beloved took could have been stolen from his own lungs. Patroclus thinks he’d gladly give him every last one. He gave him an affectionate look before the idea of walking together in the sun sent his heart fluttering.

“Then, my Achilles, let’s go.”

Beaming, Achilles slipped the ring onto the myrmidon’s middle finger and swiftly donned his own. The metal hissed and stretched as it became accustomed to its new home, with its flickering form calming down into a regular thin ring. A day’s use only - it was possible that they were never meant to be enchanted for long. Patroclus flexed his fingers as he examined the curious thing. Satisfied, he looks up to Achilles for the next steps. The smile he sees on his face makes him think the sun is here already.

The bright light dazzled.

Achilles threw up a hand over his eyes as he side-stepped out of the hidden exit of the Underworld into the snowy landscape. A chill that had nothing to do with the weather dripped down his spine as the fear of Hades’ wrath tinged his mind. His other hand coaxed Patroclus along, hearing a slight chuckle behind him, and he suddenly found it quite hard to care. At least, not for now.

It was definitely a stark difference to the warm darkness they were both accustomed to. The pop and sizzles of lava far away, the slick gushing of blood from the River Styx long gone. The cold of the mortal realm was so biting compared to the fires of the Underworld. As he pressed on, bitterly regretting a lack of proper clothing, Achilles could not help but feel the heat from Patroclus’ hand in his. Maybe he would not feel so cold after all.

Snow crunching under his feet, he led them onwards. He was sure that Patroclus was feeling the sting of the cold as much as he did. In his haste to sneak the two of them out, Achilles had forgotten to warn Patroclus of the icy weather. He turned to apologise, but the wonder on his beloved’s face had the words catching in his throat.

Of course, how could Achilles forget? As a servant of Hades, he had known of the surface world and kept up with their changes from the trickles of gossip that flowed through the House. A resident of Elysium would not.

“Pat, I must apologise. I should have prepared you better-”

“My love,” Patroclus whispered, the reverence in his tone bringing Achilles to a stop. “Was the world always so bright?”

A strange melancholy twists itself in Achilles’ chest.

In their mortal life, their work as soldiers never lent itself well to seeing the beauty of the natural world. He cast his eyes over the snowy mountain caps glittering in the distance, the crisp ice gleaming off the branches flanking their path. He didn’t even know what to say. Instead, he chose to rest his palm on his dearest’s shoulder. Patroclus wrapped his fingers around it absent-mindedly in return as he continued to take in a shocking new world.

“I loved our mortal lives together, but I was callous,” Achilles began. “I made mistakes that cost us our happiness, our future.”

The words welled up in Achilles’ throat, but he pressed on, gasping. “I think that I wanted to relive a moment of that, but without the pointless haste that gripped me before.”

Patroclus knows all too well the regret that wound itself around his love.

“I thought of this the whole while,” Achilles dryly chuckled, laying against his shoulder. “Of what I would do had I another day with you in the mortal realm.”

Raising his other hand to stop before Achilles could continue, Patroclus held Achilles’ hand tighter, feeling the cool metal of the ring clink between the two of them.

“Do not torment yourself, my love. I could think of no realm I would ever want to be in without you - mortal or otherwise.” Softening, Patroclus stroked the hand in his with his thumb. “I mean it. I would trade eternal paradise, a thousand more years walking in the sun, if it meant I could spend even a day more with you.”

The shy grin that he felt pressed into his skin makes one of his own creep onto his face. The two of them swayed there, hands slipping off Patroclus shoulder to stay clasped between their chests, before Achilles jolted.

“How could I forget? We still have to press on, Pat, there’s so much we must not miss!”

Snorting, Patroclus resigned again to Achilles’ lead, fingers tangled a tad tighter in his hold.

The winter sun was high in the sky when the two of them reached their destination. Standing on a hilltop, Patroclus looked down at a village below. It was not what he remembered. The houses looked the same, yet different - a change in the style of the walls, an adjustment in the slope of the roofs. It’s a weird feeling in the back of his head, he thought, to see the world move on without him. Thankfully though, the afterlife had eroded his ego, his shameless pride, that plagued him in mortal life. There was a comfort in seeing the people live their lives without the fear of war like he did before. It was peace like this that marked humanity, he thought again, not senseless violence or pointless conquest.

The breeze brushed some of Achilles’ hair onto him as they stood together, taking in the sight. Patroclus began to ask where his love was so excited to take him but he spied the same introspection in his eyes. Something in him softened at the look. Instead, Patroclus elected to leave a small kiss on his companion’s forehead, bringing him out his thoughts gently. It seemed that after so long, the need for words had dissolved between them. Achilles finally looks to him too, and he knows they think the same.

“It makes the wars we waged seem so pointless,” Achilles said in a quiet hush, as if the breeze might carry the words away.

“It does,” he replied. “But our time has passed. The fates can be so cruel, and yet these people continue to live on.”

“They do, don’t they?”

“Yes, my love,” Patroclus brought Achilles into an embrace. “And so must we. Elysium gives too many heroes the same glory and fame they chased in life, but I found myself no longer wanting that. I wanted to see the future, with you.”

Achilles hummed. “Shall we see for ourselves what that future might be?”

A tiny sigh of relief escaped Patroclus at the lift of his partner’s mood. They both had their demons to bear, but it was always much easier when they were together. Smiling, Patroclus let Achilles lead him on once more.

The two of them walked round to the borders of the village. After their solemn moment atop the hill, the tension in Patroclus’ chest had now eased. A silly, almost giddy, grin stretched over his face. One he had neither the control or the will to push down. It had been so long since the two of them had snuck around, just as they did in youth.

Before them stretched a long cobblestone path. Tufts of grass sprouted between the dusting of snow that adorned the grey stones, worn down from years of use. It looked like a busy day to visit. The din of the village centre could be heard even from the outskirts where the two of them stood as clusters of people filled the streets.

Achilles and Patroclus must have stood out like a sore thumb.

Still - one does not become a living legend just by sitting on the sidelines. As such, Achilles charged right into the crowds with his lover in tow. All kinds of people bustled past. People of various styles, tall heights and short, and even several families tugging along petulant children, lined the streets of the village. It seemed there was a festival in town, as there was no way a village so small could sustain the traffic that poured through the stone streets. The people haggled and traded, sang and danced. They ate, laughed and were merry. The same fondness for humanity that Achilles felt on the hilltop stirred in his chest. What a wonderful gift - to be human.

Patroclus was caught in similar musings when the shrill ringing of a child’s voice piped up closeby.

“Sirs! Sirs!” the voice squeaked.

Patroclus furrowed his brows, clearly confused and perhaps a bit dismayed at the interruption of his trip with his dearest. Achilles himself, however, seemed more than amused.

“I believe a little lad is asking for us,” he whispered underneath his breath. The faint smile on his partner’s face has Patroclus relenting yet again. It seemed Achilles could never escape his soft spot for the young.

Again, the voice rang out - “Sirs! The tall sirs in the funny clothes!”

Patroclus’ eyebrow twitched. Whatever attention the child wanted, he certainly had it now. Patroclus pushed through the crowd to find the source of this clearly fashion-forward child, and found him by a stand at the corner of the street.

The stand itself was not a great source of interest. The chipped wood signalled years of reuse, and the faded cloth lining it must have been passed down for generations. What was most interesting about the counter were the piles of golden pastries, freshly-baked bread and iced cakes, almost sparkling in the winter light, that adorned the space. A rumble resonated in Patroclus’ stomach - one he wasn’t sure shades could even do. Achilles thought it was hilarious, before a withering look had him stifling his grin.

The child in question had escaped to the folds of what seemed to be his grandmother’s skirt. The woman herself was tending to the stall and seemed quite busy appeasing the customers eyeing her produce. A shuffle of fabric, and a quick swipe of a chubby hand is all Patroclus spied before the child reappeared again.

“Hello lad,” Achilles began, evidently finding the situation all too amusing. “What could you be calling us for?”

“Your funny clothes look too cold!” the child shouts. This seemed to grab the attention of his guardian, who was wide-eyed in shock and all too ready to apologise for her grandson’s behaviour.

“Aleta!” she reprimanded. “What did we say about bothering nice gentlemen?!”

“They look too cold and skinny, g’ma! You said we should feed the cold skinny ones!” The child waved a golden-brown bun in front of their faces, still steaming in the winter chill.

The woman simply looked aghast.

Achilles chuckled. “Your boy has done nothing of the sort, not at all. If anything, he has done us a favour by bringing us to such a lovely array.”

“Oh,” the old lady breathed a sigh of relief. “You are simply too sweet. These old bones may creek, but I’ll be damned if they don’t whip up something good!”

Huffing, Patroclus ended up finding it hard to stay annoyed at the child. The ex-warrior stood by his love, allowing him to chat with the baker who was charmed at his admiration. It wasn’t long before she shooed the two of them away with a warm smile, thrusting a pair of fresh bread rolls into their arms. Only mildly miffed at Achilles flirting his way into free food (to which he denied), Patroclus found he could not deny his cravings any longer. He thanked the woman and her grandson wholeheartedly, before walking on and tearing into the roll. He savoured the sweet milky filling that spilled forth. It had been so long since he could appreciate the warmth of baked goods on a cold day, and share the delight with his beloved.

The two of them continued to amble down the streets. Their stomachs were pleasantly full, bringing an ease to their pace. The winter sun no longer seemed so harsh when Patroclus could enjoy himself with Achilles. There was a lightheartedness to him that he wished he saw more in his partner. Too often had guilt and penance chained themselves tight to his lover, and Patroclus was more than glad to see Achilles free of his shackles - if only for a day.

“Achilles, this might have been your best idea yet,” he hummed as the two of them walked side by side. The crowds of people seemed to have died down by then, with most stalls packing up for the day.

“Even better than when I tried to outlaw onions in our barracks, hm?”

“Well … that is hard to beat,” Patroclus said with a sly smile. “But no, I really cannot thank you enough. I do not know how long it has been since we have walked these lands, but I know that whenever I dreamt of it, it was always by your side.”

“You are such a sap sometime, Pat,” Achilles responds, eyes softening in the way reserved for only him, before admitting, “I cannot tell you how happy that makes me.”

A lifetime together and an afterlife more, yet still Patroclus had to look away from his companion, lest the adoration he would see in his eyes cause a falter in his heartbeat, and a stumble in his step.

The sun had dipped low in the sky before the pair had the good sense to return to the Underworld. Thankfully, Achilles and Patroclus were able to slip back into the Underworld without a hitch. The most reaction they received was from a raised eyebrow from Hypnos - who, if he knew what was good for him, would not dare mention Achilles’ absence if he didn’t want his trysts with a certain ferryman to be made public. It seemed that the House of Hades was incredibly busy yet again, and for once, Achilles was grateful for it.

The journey back to Elysium did not take long. The warmth of the day had nestled itself deeply into Achilles’ heart, and it made their travels seem far too short. Unfortunately however, it soon became time for them to depart.

“My love, I’d wager that this day was worth the years I spent without you,” Patroclus said with a soft smile. “I’d wager again that it will stay with me for years to come.”

A giddy laugh bubbled out of Achilles in response. He held his dear Patroclus’ cheek in his hand, hoping that his touch could convey all that his heart finds so hard to say. The small peck he received on his palm let him know he understood this and more. Achilles could not help but draw him in, lips teasing the edge of Patroclus’ mouth, as he sealed the promise of eternal love with a kiss.

Between their clapsed hands, the silver of their rings glinted in the light.

[half-deadmagicperson]

How Danny Broke His Favorite Star Projector

Hey y'all!!! This is my fic for @ecto-implosion on art by @midnightectosnack ! (WHO DID AN AMAZING JOB!)

Crossover: Danny Phantom, Hades (Videogame)

Rating: Teen (To Be Safe)

Characters: Danny Phantom, Zagreus (Hades), Cerberus (Hades), Cujo (Danny Phantom), Clockwork, Persephone (Hades), Charon (Hades)

Tags: Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Psychopomp AU

Warnings: Temporary Character Death, Death Mentioned, Cannon-typical Violence

Summary: It's been a long time since Danny became a half-ghost. After the fights in Amity ended, he began a new job: guiding souls to their respective afterlives. One day, Danny stumbled upon a strange soul he's never seen before, a soul from the House of Hades.

Link to AO3

Next Chapter

Link to Midnight's Artwork!!!

   It was a pretty normal day in the Infinite Realms, well as normal as it can be. Danny had just finished up his day at work and was making his way back home. He floated in the Zone for what felt like forever. His fatigue caused his surroundings to blur. Islands, doors, staircases, a bluish spirit looking thing, more islands. Danny stopped in his tracks. He must've forgotten one.

   About seventy years ago or so, before Danny left Amity, Clockwork showed up to Danny's house with a new job. He asked Danny to help guide souls to their respective afterlives. The boy accepted the offer and began shortly after. 

   Danny walked with thousands of spirits. Some were strangers, others were a little close to home. It started with Sam's grandma, then Tucker's parents, then Sam's, then his own mother and father, then Tucker, then Sam, then Valerie, then Jazz. Eventually, everyone he ever knew passed away. Amity Park moved on, and so did Danny, well he's trying to.

    Now Danny was staring at the Blue spirit in front of him. It was definitely a soul, but it looked different than the ones he's seen before. Its face was a dark void with yellow eyes and kind of reminded him of a blob ghost, but more sentient. He should probably go to Clockwork. 

   The ghost boy floated around, soul in tow, until he approached a large clocktower.

  “Hello? Clockwork?” Danny called out into the dark entryway. He glanced around until his eyes landed on a familiar purple cloak. The boy’s mentor, currently in the form of a baby, turned around to greet his pupil. The baby’s form shifted into a frail, old man.

  “Hello, Daniel, what have you come to ask?”

  “Ok, so I was on my way back home when I came across this soul, and I don’t know which afterlife it belongs to,” Danny pointed to the blue creature next to him.

  “Ah, yes, I haven’t seen one of those souls in a very long time. This soul belongs to the House of Hades,” Clockwork moved to inspect the soul, “ Usually these souls are sent directly to Hades, but it appears this one got lost. Would you mind, Young Daniel, escorting it back to the Underworld?”

   Danny looked up at his mentor, now in the form of a young adult, and nodded. The Ghost of Time passed the boy a scroll with directions as well as a giant sack of meat. It was time to go to the Underworld.

    

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    

     In the darkness of the Underworld, the young prince prepares food for the fiercest of protectors, Cerberus the three headed hound.

  “Oh, you’re back, Old Man.” 

  Zagreus, Son of Hades, grabbed the sack of meat he prepared to feed his favorite guard dog. He walked down the cold, dry halls of the House of Hades until he reached the back of the Temple.

    The Prince wanders the halls of the House. He does not know what he shall find further ahead. Will it be a great ally? Or a deadly foe? Either way the Fates have something in store.

   “You know I can still hear you, Right?” 

   Zagreus sighed. There must be something, other than Cerberus ahead. Slowly, Zagreus crept down the hall, preparing for battle if necessary. He couldn’t believe what he saw next.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

   Danny just finished returning the soul. He decided not to venture too deep into the Underworld, totally not out of fear, and dropped the prodigal off at the main entrance. 

   When he first arrived at the House, he heard a large growl. Cerberus, the massive three-headed hound, showed three sets of fangs to the unsuspecting ghost boy.

   Danny, not having any concept of danger, decided to treat the giant beast like he would any dog, and allowed it to give him sniffs. He floated up closer to the middle head. The creature’s giant noses created gusts of wind as it took in Danny’s scent. Danny braced himself for rejection, but instead felt a large nose bump into him, more specifically, into the bag of meat. The boy mentally thanked Clockwork, and presented Cerberus with the meat.

   In an instant, the ferocious hell-hound turned into an oversized puppy. Danny smiled as he offered the dog pets. He kind of reminded Danny of Cujo. The boy continued scratching under one of the dog's ears. He didn't hear the incoming footsteps.

  "Who the hell are you?"

   Danny whipped his head around. On the opposite side of the hallway stood a rather imposing figure. A guy, who looked just a tad older than Danny, crossed his arms and glared. He was dressed like a Greek god, and was built like one too. This was gonna be interesting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

   Zagreus didn't know what he was expecting, maybe some monster or a demigod or something, but it definitely wasn't a flying boy in a strange outfit. The weirdest part was that Cerberus had not attacked the intruder, in fact, the intruder was petting him? It was then that Zagreus noticed the sack of meat on the floor. Ah, bribery. Welp time to get this party started.

   "Who the hell are you?"

   The boy jolted into a defensive position. Zagreus noticed him analyzing his opponent. He was definitely a seasoned fighter, and not to be underestimated. The boy put on a nervous expression and responded:

  "I was…just leaving! Nice place you got here, uh, sir! I'll just be, uh, scooting out this gateway here."

  The culprit was trying to escape. Zagreus sighed. He may be new here, but he still must face the same justice. 

   "You are not allowed to intrude into the House of Hades, for that you must pay."

   He drew out Stygius, Blade of the Underworld.

   Danny eyed the blade carefully. It looks like there's gonna be a fight. Maybe he can talk the guy with the sword out of it?

  “We, we don't really have to fight! I can just lea-”

  Zagreus charged full-force at the stranger. The prince only had a few moments to process the glowing blue in his opponent's hand before he was met with another sword.

   Danny used his newly crafted ice sword to ward off his attacker. He eventually was able to get a lucky hit in and knock the weapon out of Zagreus's hand.

   “Could we maybe, I don't know, talk about things instead of fighting?”

   “No,” was the prince’s curt reply before drawing another weapon, a spear. Where the hell did that even come from?

   Zagreus spun the Eternal Spear into the intruder's sword. The ice shattered like glass. Looks like it was time for a new plan. 

   Danny summoned some ectoblasts and started shooting at the prince from a distance. Despite his efforts, Zagreus persisted and started backing Danny into a corner.

   Danny sighed.

   “I didn't want to have to do this, but you gave me no choice.” 

   The Underworld shook with the echoes of ghostly screaming. Stalactites cracked and crumbled onto the ground. Cerberus whined from the loud noise. Zagreus cupped his ears, yet still persisted. 

    Danny continued his Ghostly Wail until his throat was raw. Exhaustion waved over him. It's been a while since he's used that, he forgot how draining it was.

   Seeing the prince disoriented, he allowed himself to meet the floor. He couldn't fight more if he tried.

   Zagreus's ears were ringing, but he noticed his opponent was down. He did not hesitate to take the opportunity to trap the boy.

    Danny looked up at the two-pronged spear aimed at his throat.

 "WAIT!!!.....please," Danny croaked out. The prince stared down at him, refusing to let down his guard. Nevertheless, he let him continue.

  "I was sent here by my mentor to return a soul. I'm a psychopomp. I guide souls to their respective afterlives. I was on my way home when I found one of yours. I promise I never meant to intrude!"

   Zagreus looked down at the young ghost. He could be telling the truth, but he also could be lying. He scanned the boy for any indication of falsehood. He found none.

   Slowly, he let up on the ghost, refusing to break eye contact. The boy breathed a sigh of relief. 

  "Well, now that that's settled, my name is Danny, Danny Phantom, what's yours?"

[thesilliestofgals]

Soooooooo what are your thoughts on the entire Blood Soaked Canines series?

GODDD (spoilers below)

All I can really say is that it's just so... Tragic. Like, in my humble opinion, I don't think any of the characters in the story got closure.

Raven is now doomed to wander Hades, trying to find her lost love, and this will likely result in her either becoming one of the shades, or perhaps even a mania (a spirit personifying madness/crazed frenzy).

We don't even KNOW what happened to Cerise. We know Dexter saw them, but that's really it. Cupid had to keep her mouth shut because of The Rules, unfortunately, so we'll never know if Cerise got reincarnated, become one of the lost souls, or went to some EAH equivalent of heaven.

Cupid I feel really bad for, just because she tried so, so hard to help Raven, and it just... blew up in her face. Poor girl, with so much love to give, yet few return it.

Ramona was finally starting to get better at the end, but then Mystery Person (who I am still quite curious about) got Cerise's number and blocked her, effectively destroying all of Ramona's progress towards healing.

Carmine, I'll be honest, will probably pass on of a broken heart, or perhaps she'll lean on Ramona more. :(

Apple and Darling... I.... guess they have more potential for healing? I mean, they got Raven's letter, so...? ?????

As for the more minor characters, like Ramona's parents... closure is more of a mixed bag. Again, in my opinion, I feel like Ramona's parents were really not coping well, and as a result, Ramona's coping was becoming unhealthy too.

OH I ALMOST FORGOT DARING!! The fact that he chose reincarnation before even fully crossing the Styx because he wasn't done hunting the beast is so sad to me. Even in death, he couldn't realize the beast was him all along ☹️

And Dexter ☹️ I feel awful for him, he was one of the most innocent characters in this story, the fact that he could've been saved if Darling had spoken to Raven about trying to make another cure... aauuughhh

All in all, great fic, loved it! It was just... beautifully tragic. I wish they could've had a more happier ending :(

[floralcavern]

TSOA - Tying Up Lose Ends - Part 2

Previous

Achilles was tapping his foot impatiently, his nerves buzzing. Eventually the boat reached close enough to land. Before Charon could announce their stop, Achilles jumped off, landing in the Elysium Fields and throwing off his helmet into the grass. He pushed his way past many burly looking men, who all seemed to be looking at him curiously. 

“PATROCLUS!” He cried out. 

He looked around wildly. His soul felt cold and alone. His soulmate, his other half, wasn’t here. He couldn’t sense the warmth of his dear Patroclus..

“Where is he?!” He sobbed. 

The other heroes looked at him, mildly concerned. 

“Has anyone come in?!” He asked, yelling and panicking. 

“Not anyone named.. Patroclus, was it?” Answered one man. Achilles had seen enough art and sculptures of this man to know that this was Heracles. Usually, in any other circumstance, he’s be in awe of being face to face with the great Heracles. But right now, that was not his greatest concern. 

“Where could he be?!” Achilles sobbed. 

He turned to Charon, who was about to sail away, but before he could, Achilles grabbed onto him. The other heroes were shocked. No one dared grabbed onto the ferryman of the dead, not even Greek’s greatest heroes. 

“Take me to Hades,” Achilles said through snarled teeth and desperate eyes. 

Charon was surprised by Achilles’ boldness, but gave him a simple nod and calmly drifted off on the river. 

He reached a castle. It was relatively small, but it still managed to loom and cause dread. Surely, this was the castle of Hades..

Hades was already waiting outside, as if he was expecting Achilles..

“Where is he?!” Achilles demanded, stumbling off the boat. “Where. Is. Patroclus?!” He didn’t care that he was face to face with a god. Hades, no less. He didn’t care about the terrifyingly pale skin of him, or his black, glowing, haunted eyes that seemed to have spirits trapped within them. 

“Achilles..” he simply said, a whisper, a whisper of the Lord of the Dead. “You surely managed to avoid the Fates for quite a while.. the gods were afraid you would change the course of the future..”

Achilles was fuming with rage. He didn’t care about that. He didn’t care about what the gods thought of him, or the Fates. 

“Where. Is. He?”

“I’m afraid he’s not here.”

“What do you mean?! He’s meant to be buried with me! Why isn’t he here?”

“I’m afraid he was never properly buried.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Your son, Neoptolemus, refused to honor your final wishes. He’s still wandering the mortal planes.”

“My.. son..” Pyrrhus..“No.. please” Achilles legs were shaking and now, desperate and full of sorrow and despair, bowed on one knee before the god. “Please. I know. I know I have been rude. I know I have been disrespectful. But please.. please make an exception for my dearly beloved Patroclus..” his voice broke. His forehead pressed pressed against the cold ground. “I’ve heard stories of your cruelty. But I’ve mostly heard stories of your mercy. Please.. I cannot live even in the Afterlife without him..”

“I’m sorry..” he could hear the pity in the god’s voice. “There is nothing I can do for this..”

Achilles sucked in a sharp breath. 

“I understand your sorrowing, Aristos Achaion..”

“You.. You know nothing of my pain!” He lifted his head, forgetting once again who he was speaking to. “You are a god! You look down on us mortals and you love to ruin our lives! I know this to be true! I know what Apollo did! He helped them! He helped them… take away my philtatos..” he said the finale words, breaking into tears. 

“Young Achilles. I truly wish there was something I could do. I understand what it feels like to be ripped from the love of your life. I always experience this, every year.”

“Yes.. but in the end, you’re always reunited with your dearly Dread Persephone..” he said the name bitterly. He knew it was a horrible idea to speak badly of Persephone. If Hades wouldn’t kill him for speaking ill of his wife, she may kill you herself. But he was already dead. And he didn’t care if they made his soul cease to exist. It would mean nothing to exist without Patroclus…

There was a pause. 

“Yes.. I am..”

“Please.. I beg of you..” even though he no longer had his physical body, he could still feel the knots in his stomach, the nausea in his head. “Just one exception.. please.. for my beloved Patroclus..”

“I’m afraid it’s just not possible..”

The world was falling. 

“There are some things not even gods are capable of doing..”

His head is spinning. 

“He may never come to the Underworld..”

His voice now raw as he screamed in pain, on his knees, screaming, as the Lord With Many Names stared at him with the greatest pity a god could give a man. 

Next

[fandonnavyce]

Fic Masterpost

By Events

Ectoberhaunt 2023

Crossover Danuary 2024

DPxDC Ship Week2024 & Ship Week: After Dark 2024

Dannymay 2024 (WIP)

Patrol Partners 2024

Invisiobang 2024

Ghouls and Gangs 2024

Ecto-Implosion 2024 (upcoming)

Fandom Trumps Hate 2024 (upcoming)

DPxDC, Dead on Main Series/AUs

My Love I Devour

and it's wider universe sequel series, The Wild Hunt

Cinderella Wonderland

Ghouls and Gangs 2024 - Hades and Persephone AU

Everything is posted on AO3, not everything is cross-posted on Tumblr

Ectoberhaunt 2023 AO3 Link

Day 2 - White Crow. Danny's a college student with some corvid friends. Dead on Main

My Love I Devour Series (In Timeline Chronology)

Day 4 - Zombies. Another Danny fixes Jason’s Pit Madness/Sick Ghost Core Fic, feat. the inherent homoeroticism of impromptu soul surgery. Rating: Mature. First in the My Love I Devour

Day 10: Occultism, Day 11: Dread vs Calm, Day 12: Obsession vs Repression, Day 13: Horror Flick - Sequel to Day 4

Day 17: Flesh, Day 18: Unravel vs Intertwine. Jason and Danny get down hot and heavy at a nightclub in the ghost zone. AO3 Series Link

Wild Hunt Series (Occurs post MLID)

Day 5 - Hunt. Ghost King Danny cordially invites you to the Wild Hunt, winner gets Constantine's entire soul - Danny's First Draft. DpxDc. First in the Wild Hunt Series

Day 19 - Claws. Danny needs Jason's brains (to write a royal invite) Sequel to Wild Hunt Part I.

Day 23: Magic, Day 26: Cults - The Ghost King summoning ritual is active for the first time in aeons. Constantine and Zatanna try it out and get more than they bargained for. AO3 Series Link

Crossover Danuary 2024 AO3 Link

Day 1 - Ben 10 Xover Tucker escapes Space Prison with the help of his two best friends

Day 1 - Another Ben 10 xover, the soft prequel. Ben meets an non-alien ET in a haunted forest

Day 2 - Atla Xover Hey, remember when Sokka got kidnapped into the Spirit World?

Day 4 - Cinderella Wonderland. A Cinderella and Alice in Wonderland Fandom Fusion but make it dpxdc, Dead on Main

Day 5 - The Owl House xover where The Collector becomes fast friends with a certain white haired girl on a day at the beach (Word of God part of the Cinderella Wonderland AU) AO3 Collection Link

DPxDC Ship Week and Ship Week: After Dark 2024

A continuation of Ectoberhaunt's Day17&18; it is the completion of part 3 of the MLID series. Can be read stand-alone more or less.

Part 1: Pleasures of the Flesh Ch 3

Part 2: Sweet Endings aka The Epilogue AO3 Fic Link

Part 3: Hunger. Smut. Jason has a sexual fantasy about Danny Written for Day 9 Dannymay2024 AO3 Link

Dannymay2024 AO3 Link

Day 2: Wish. Dead on Main Moodboard. Prayers are like wishes (you never know who's listening) so be careful for what you wish for.

Day 4: Wander. Dani Phantom Postcard. I'll wander far and long to where I wish to roam. But I won't forget to go and wander home Love, Dani

Day 9: Hunger. Dead on Main Smut.

Day 13: DnD AU. A Cleric casts Speak with Dead. The corpse's response is unusual. Pre-Everlasting Trio

Day 15: Field Trip. Everlasting Trio Field Trip through the Ghost Zone, ala Little Einsteins.

Patrol Partners 2024 AO3 Link

Need A Lift? A co-authored DPxDC Tim/Danny (Not Jason/Danny for once lol) fanfic. Aka the Brain Dead Meet Cute where where Tim and Danny are Trapped in An Elevator during a Rogue Attack.

Invisobang 2024 AO3 Link

Supernova Series A DPxDC Bang where The Fentons manage to create an interdimensional portal. But it wasn't to the Ghost Zone. At 14 years old, one teenage boy dies in a portal to Hueco Mundo.

The fic series where Danny Fenton is the freak accident to Kurosaki Ichigo's lab experiment, who's been living under the radar in Soul Society. At least until the Plot(TM) kicks off. Crossover Fusion with Bleach, that starts pre-Bleach Canon.

Ghouls and Gangs 2024 AO3 Link

In Death's Sweet Embrace: a Dead on Main, Hades and Persphone AU featuring non-traditional takes on A/B/O and the Sentinel&Guide AU

[theimperiumchronicles]

Happy STS! (Shh, I'm a day behind.) And because of that, today's a free space! Use it to ramble as you please! ♥️

I am a week and a day behind, but I'm still going to ramble...and tell you about yet another new WIP that is coming up.

Mysts Of Time

Lemures in Roman mythology are spirits who were not given proper burials and are pissed off/vengeful.

In my story, if someone dies in such a way that their body cannot be found, Pluto (Roman God of Death = Greek Hades) offers them the chance to become a Lemure Agent. Lemure Agents can see wandering souls whose bodies have not been found and can help find them, and help the police find who killed them if they were murdered. There is always a Lemure Agent in big city police dept in the Homicide Unit.

Set in St. Louis, MO, Renata died in 1897 when she fell into the Mississippi River after a party at Lemp Mansion celebrating a wedding. Offered the deal of becoming a Lemure Agent by Pluto, she was trained by Dante and Traverius over the coming years. She and Dante are VERY close, and there are hints that something could be developing between them in the present. It took a full century for her to get over her husband and children. She couldn't let them go and watched from a distance and in the shadows as they aged and died, even doing so to her grandchildren before finally letting go completely.

Enzo is the boss of all of the Lemure Agents and believed to have been the original one, although no one is sure or brave enough to ask. For some reason, he has never met Renata, something that is unusual. He normally is the one to do their training and offering of the deal. No one knows why Renata was different. Now he has been sent to St. Louis to help with a child that they are having problems finding the body, and no one wants the poor kid to become a shade (what happens if the body is not found and they can't/won't become a Lemure) . When he first meets Renata, he is stunned because she is the exact doppelganger in all ways to his wife who died in the Great Fire of Rome. BOOM!

Why that is...well...Pluto has a HUGE hand in that...and it becomes complicated as the story goes on.

So now, Renata and Dante, who also happens to be Enzo's best friend, may have something developing while Enzo is facing the mirror image of the only woman to ever have his heart. Traverius is observing from outside the situation, and sees the disaster that everyone is heading for and wonders if there is more at play than just Plato's meddling with time and heartstrings.

@blind-the-winds @saltysupercomputer @pheita @writingmaidenwarrior @dreaminggoblin @thebejeweledwatercat

@outpost51 @ceph-the-ghost-writer @aziz-reads

[tylermileslockett]

Chthonic Descent (#4 in my Orpheus and Eurydice series)

The Roman poet Virgil, in his poem “Georgics”, gives a lush description of Orpheus descent into Hades;

“…entering the grove gloomy with black horror, he approached the Manes (dead spirits), and the tremendous king, and the hearts that know not how to relent at human prayers. But the thin shades being stirred up by his song from the lowest mansions of Erebus moved along, and the Ghosts deprived of light… mothers and husbands, and the departed bodies of magnanimous heroes, boys and unmarried girls, and youths laid on funeral pyres before the faces of their parents, whom the black mud and squalid reeds of Cocytus, and the lake hateful with stagnant water encloses around, and styx nine times interfused restrains.”  (-translation from the Latin by John Martyn.)

         The word Chthonic in my title is an adjective describing something belonging to the underworld. This would be an apt time to discuss the structure and details of the ancient Greek underworld; the realm of Hades. Our oldest literary source in Homer’s “Odyssey” (700 B.C.) portrays the realm as dark, gloomy, and frightening. A place where all souls go, and lacking skin and bone; have no physical form. The shades (spirits) wander mindless, and without memory.

         In Virgil’s “Aeneid” (25 B.C.) we get a much more detailed account of the geography. Our hero Aeneas pays the boatman Charon to ferry him across the river styx, and after passing the three headed guard-hound Cerberus, they eventually come to a crossroad leading to two important realms; Tartarus (an invincible fortress guarded by one of the Furies, where sinners are punished) and Elysium (a sunny paradise where pure souls pursue leisure activities).

As always thanks for looking and reading. Please share this post and I'll toss charon a coin for you. Xoxo

Like this art? It will be in my illustrated book with over 130 other full page illustrations coming in march to kickstarter. Please check my links in my linktree in my bio to join the kickstarter notification page. 🤟❤️🏛

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X HADES WRITING PROMPT

(The only reason this prompt exists is because I'm obsessed with both Danny Phantom and Hades (Video Game) at the moment. I also looked on AO3 and there are zero crossovers involving these two fandoms. Let's try and change that. My brain absolutely demands this itch be scratched.)

(#) = Notes at the end of post

(*) = Just me building off of other ideas

✦

Below the Green Depths

Danny gets blasted into the deepest parts of Ghost Zone after a fight with one of his more powerful rouges (1) and winds up stranded in the middle of Tartarus. Not really knowing what to do, he wanders around until he runs into trouble in the form of the more violent spirits who roam the Underworld.

Not for lack of trying to avoid it, he becomes seriously injured(2) in trying to find a way back home and is extremely exhausted to the point of collapsing in the first chamber he comes across that has zero enemies popping out to carve him to pieces. This being one of the chambers that Chiron uses to sell his wares to Zagreus on his way through.

Not really knowing what to do with the strange, unconscious boy, he calls out to Thanatos. As soon as Thanatos shows up and sees Danny, unconscious and heavily bleeding from multiple wounds, he recognizes the strange boy. The one soul he wasn't allowed to reap because of the circumstances of his soul being perfectly stranded between the realms of the living and the dead. Not only that, but he recognizes Danny's potential claim to the throne of the Ghost King.

A little frantic, he gathers the wounded boy gently into his arms and makes the hasty decision to bring him to the House of Hades for healing. It gets a little hectic from there.

✦

Notes:

(1) Which rouge was he fighting? Skulker? Vlad? One of the more volatile Ancients? Who knows.

(2) Does Danny get weaker in Tartarus or is it just the unending hoards of shades attacking him while he's out of his depth that allows him to get so injured?

(*) Considering Danny's status in the ghost zone, i.e. -halfa and potential successor to the Ghost King's throne, does this make him related to the Chthonic Gods? Is this another "Danny becomes a god" kind of fic? Probably. Would Danny basically be Hypnos and Thanatos' many many many times removed cousin? Or like, a relative through marriage sort of deal? How would Zagreus react to a half-human/half-ghost roaming the halls of his home? What about Hades himself? Nyx? Persephone?

(*) What would be the hierarchy between the Greek Gods of the Underworld and the Ghost King be?

[one-coming-is-enough]

I wanna hear about your beef with Mr. Claus, if you don't mind.

I've been sleeping on this ask for a minute, and it's time, honestly. I've had such a busy holiday season already, it's crazy! I mean, this year in addition to all the zombies, I'm trying to get through the training videos for taking over Hell, and they're meandering, awkward, and full of incoherent jargon. It's just a lot!

But the 6th was St. Nicholas's Day, and tonight it's Hanukkah, so I should definitely answer this one.

St. Nicholas is a decent guy, if a little stiff-necked. His thing is giving dowries to poor women so they don't have to go into sex work. And also bringing poor children back to life after they're sold for stew meat.

(Also, he was the one who proposed at the Council of Nicea that Easter be celebrated on the first full moon after the spring equinox, which tied it to the solar calendar instead of the lunar calendar. Granted, this was to reduce the Jewish influence on the religion, but it also made it easier for Me to celebrate Passover, and I really like Passover.)

So St. Nicholas Day ends up being a day where, instead of finding the nearest whore and offering to fund her marriage (sex work is work), you give money and presents to children. You can see the connection, yeah? Make sure kids have what they need growing up and they won't go hoing to make ends meet. Or have to be made into stew.

Meanwhile, we have this spirit over in the East called Ded Moroz, or Grandpa Frost. He's just, like, an old guy who freezes stuff. He'll take your kids if they wander out in the cold like you told the little bastards not to do.

And because of cultural drift, the duties of Ded Moroz get shifted over to Odin, another dude from the East. Originated somewhere between the steppes of Mongolia and Turkey, as far as anyone knows, finally made his way to Sweden and even the British Isles. Odin is now the Yulefather, the freezer of water and collector of the dead in the dying part of the year. Makes sense, because He's a wind god, since air is the element connected with Spirit at this time. (This is true for Hebrew and Latin, too! Pneuma and ru'ach.)

Well, the church doesn't like that Ded Moroz is a spooky guy who takes souls, decides he's a demon. But people like their Ded Moroz a lot. So now, instead of being a demon who takes souls, he's... Well, who do we have that's also from the East, Turkey specifically, and who is associated with giving or taking something, especially regarding children?

We have St. Nicholas! Who gives children presents instead of taking their souls, and coincidentally can calm the storm (of wind) that so often takes the souls of those lost outside in the cold. And his holiday is just under 20 days before Yule Xmas it's Christmas now. (Or, Yuletide. You know, whatever. Sheol is Hades now, who gives a shit.)

So it all gets kinda muddled up. Odin, St. Nick, Ded Moroz. Father Frost, Father Solstice, Father Christmas.

Well, I'm hanging out in the Holy Roman Empire, and I hear about this guy known as Sinterklaas. I think it's my old buddy and trusted employee Nicholas of Myra, who as far as I know has been buying, freeing, and funding the education and/or startups of slaves for as long as that's been possible. (He has six to eight African guys he ended up hiring on as assistants.) And I hear he's giving out not just coins and oranges, which prevent scurvy, but also toys and candy. And Nicholas of Myra is a good man, but he had zero sense of humor or fun and would never give a kid candy ("it rots your teeth, at least have an orange").

So I track down this Klaus, whom the kids also call Kris Kringle. I hear the kids have been doing all sorts of weird rituals to him, like the Spanish Yule log that shits candy, or the little pooping guy they hide in the Nativity scene (also Spanish, now that I think about it. What the fuck did the Inquisition do to people's brains over there?). And that he has a creepy BDSM goat called the Krampus for an assistant, who's in charge of dealing out the punishment to bad kids (that one's German and I thought it was just, like, the nation's id or something).

And he's smol. I mean, this guy is fucking Thumbelina sized. Roughly round, jolly as fuck, red fur trimmed in white, pointy toque beanie to match, and a miniature sleigh with eight tiny reindeer. Telltale pointed ears. Sparkling all over like they do.

Eight transmuted beings. Sleipnir (Dasher), Shiva and Baal Marquad (Dancer, Prancer), a kitsune (Vixen), a fallen star (Comet), Eros Himself (Cupid), and Thunder and Lightning -- Thor and Loki. Donner and Blitzen.

It's an entire Neil Gaiman novella of folks who've, I dunno, lost some kind of bet to him.

Okay. So he's one of The Neighbors. Gotta be careful.

I greet him like he's my old buddy Nicholas. I ask him how the soul collection is going and ask to see his inventory. He demurs, but I remind him that I'm his boss and they'll all come to Me eventually anyway. I just want to see if I think he ought to put any back. Oh, and can I just scan your company badge so I can establish that you made your check-in?

Well, I'm bluffing really hard, but he doesn't know that. He says he lost it. I tell him I'll wait with the souls until he gets back -- actually, whoa, looks like he's got a full load there. I'll take them in Myself.

That's when he laughs and says, "Well, Jesus, looks like You caught Me fair and square tonight. But how's about you and I make a deal? I'll spread Your Word and tell children to be good. And I will tell them to give to others all year round, because that's the spirit of Christmas. If they are good all year round, doing what their parents say, I will give them presents. If they are not good all year round -- which is to say, they don't do what their parents tell them to earn Christmas presents -- I will not give them presents. Fair?"

Note the wording carefully. Note where there's an and, and where there's not an and.

This works for a while. And then this song comes out.

Something seems wrong if kids are getting Santa presents according to the wealth of their parents, not their goodness over the year.

Then I find out that the primary metric by which Santa distributes presents is no longer behavior, but belief.

Not in Me.

In SANTA CLAUS.

I storm into his North Pole office yelling idolatry and he's got a fucking elven lawyer underlining shit. He didn't convert. He only promised to encourage charity. He didn't promise presents for charity, it's just for kids doing what their parents say they need to in order to get gifts, and right now that's belief in him.

I'm fucking steamed and he points out that I do exactly the same thing. Instead of doing good works or seeing the Divine in others regardless of social status or even fighting for equality here on Earth, Heaven has gotten twisted around to the point where believing in Me alone -- not what I stand for, which at this point can be nearly anything, but just the idea that I existed and did the Thing -- is considered sufficient acceptance criteria.

And I can't argue with that but I hate it. I hate that it's come to that. I hate what My section of Heaven looks like these days. I personally have been pleading for them to enact stringent, clearer, and above all objective metrics of entry, but I'm outnumbered in My own 5D connected consciousness in that opinion!!!

So. Fuck that guy. I'd literally rather you just worship Odin for Yule flat-out than fuck with Santa Claus, because at least He has solid advice for living and a comprehensive afterlife system.

I don't know what Santa Claus is doing with all that belief except get bigger, and it really scares Me.