#this is from prometheus bound btw

[nepobabyeurydice]

On Ao3

Summary:

Jason's unhealthy trait? He watches interviews of his dead mother to try to understand how she could give him up. As far as it goes it could be worse.

media preserves everything

…

It was stupid Jason knew this, but honestly he couldn’t bring himself to care. He types her name into the search bar and hits the first video. 

His mother’s voice echoes into the room. She’s beautiful, her blond hair fluffy and pulled back with ribbon barrettes and blue eyes gleaming teasingly. A video of her good days, the ones where she hadn’t yet met his father and her mind hadn’t yet fractured. A time when there had been happiness. 

“Anyone special in your life, Beryl?” the show host asks. His mother smiles. It’s Thalia’s smile and Jason nearly cries.

“There’s Calliope,” she admits. “My cat. Smart, wicked thing I tell you, John. Always getting something from me.”

John and the audience both laugh and his mother looks happy. 

“A man, perhaps? Some new model?” John continues to prod.

Beryl leans closer to the audience and Jason leans in with her. She's smiling like she’s confiding something to a dear friend. Her magnetism is impeccable. How a god could break his oath twice over for a woman like her is obvious to Jason.

“Well, there’s this guy.” she says, drawing it out. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He has the most magnetizing gray eyes I tell you. Could go insane in them, John.”

“Why don’t you shoot your shot?”

Beryl laughs, it’s Jason’s laugh, Thalia’s laugh. “He’s much too old for me. I prefer someone as dashing as my co-star.”

John smiles and the audience titters. It’s fake, staged. But Beryl’s eyes glint with the same sort of feverish glow Jason had seen in Ithaca. 

“He’s married,” she says suddenly. The audience gasps. Jason leans forward, his glasses are slipping down his nose. “I’m not a homewrecker, John, you know this. Admire from afar, I ain’t touching that.”

John’s eyes gleam. He must be thinking what a story what it’d be. Beryl Grace had been truly famous at this point, her award-winning show Rockrose Manor had catapulted to high, and this confession would generate revenue. 

“A name for the man, Beryl? If that’s alright with you?”

She smiles prettily. It’s an odd one, not one that Jason or Thalia had ever used. “Teleus.”

Of the marriage rites. Jason thinks. How damning. 

The video ends, the next is titled: Beryl Grace Speaks About Rockrose Manor’s tenth award.

Jason clicks on it.

[brotherhoodoftheblade]

Okay, it’s almost 3 AM in the morning on a Monday, but we’re going to pretend it’s still Sunday. lol Haven’t forgotten I’m still meant to be working on my wips, even though I haven’t been in a writing mood the past few weeks. 

So here’s a new bit from The Deathless Divide (which will probably be kind of confusing if you haven’t read the first two chapters of it btw). ✨

(TW for violence and blood etc.)

~*~

Something was hunting him.

Of that much Percy was certain.

It wasn’t the first time. There was nothing good to be found in the purgatorial wastelands, but the lost souls that roamed the desolate land – turned feral with insatiable hunger and an eternity of torment – were the most hellish thing about the place. His last encounter with such a creature had left him half feral himself, palms scrapped raw and bloody against the large rock he’d gripped tightly despite the burning pain, breaths coming in ragged gasps as he brought the rock down again and again on the screaming, wailing man.

He hadn’t stopped, kept up his assault through every sickening tearing of flesh and crack of bone, until he no longer had the strength to raise his trembling arms. The rock had been smeared bright red with blood when he’d dropped it – the most colourful thing in all of Purgatory – his head spinning with too rapid breaths, tears sliding down his face and dripping off his chin as the creature gurgled and keened like the barely human thing it had become. He’d retched, though naturally nothing had come up; he had nothing left inside him but blood waiting to be spilled, after all. His forearm – blood beginning to congeal at last where the creature had bitten off a chunk of him – throbbed madly. He’d pushed himself up onto shaking legs and stumbled away, with only thought that he had to keep moving.

He had to put as much distance between himself and that blood-thirsty beast as he could. Before it healed. Before it picked up his scent and began to pursue him again.

The trouble with being in a land of the dead, of course, was that he couldn’t kill anything; not even himself. All he could do to obstruct the human-turned-fiend that was so hell bent on trying to fucking eat him was to break its damned legs and run as far and fast as he could before it was made whole once more. And it would be again, far too soon. Like Prometheus, bound to a rock to have his liver eaten only for it grow back overnight so it could be torn out again and again in an eternal cycle of torment, the denizens of Purgatory could bleed and break bodily only to soon find themselves restored so they could suffer anew.

Percy had – blessedly – ceased to find himself returned to the wretched place every time he drifted to sleep, but still, it had yet to release its hold on him. The fear that it might never let him go sat cold and heavy within him – and what then? How long might it be before he became like the thing that hunted him?

His eyes darted among the trees, searching out movement, but all was shadow.

His heart thudded dully. He had to keep moving.

He’d found a good, sturdy branch along the way and carried it now, upright against his shoulder like a soldier’s musket – and god, what wouldn’t he have given for a proper musket and bayonet right now. At least the branch, though heavy, was far less unwieldy than the rock had been. If he was lucky he’d wake up before he had another nasty confrontation – but how often was he ever that lucky? Better to remain vigilant. Seeing and hearing nothing out of the ordinary, he turned to continue along his way.

A man stood before him, a mere arm’s length away.

Percy gasped sharply, hands scrabbling at the branch before he got a firm hold of it and thrust it straight at the creature’s head like a battering ram. There was a nasty crunching sound as the blow caught the man right in the face, sending him reeling back, trying and failing to regain his balance before he hit the ground. The shadowy form swore viciously, cradling its mouth and nose between its hands.

Heart pounding madly, Percy gripped the branch so hard his fingers ached, and moved to press his advantage. Raising the branch with both arms he plunged it down atop the man, only to hit hard-packed earth as the figure rolled rapidly out of the way and up onto its knee. A large hand shot out and seized his arm, and Percy’s mouth opened in a soundless scream as the world fell away.

Bright light pierced his eyes and he squeezed them closed reflexively. The hand on his arm tightened. Tensing, he shook it off.

“Perseverance,” a man’s voice said reassuringly, “It’s all right. You’re safe now.”

“I know,” Percy murmured, blinking as he forced himself to open his eyes. There was no light in Purgatory, and flowers certainly didn’t perfume the air; this was Paradise. “And do not call me that, if you please.”

The grass was soft beneath him as he lay supine upon it – when had that happened? Never mind. Percy had already half-given up trying to make sense of anything that had occurred since his unexpected death. The only thing that mattered at the moment was that he’d apparently bashed an angel in the face.  The thought gave him the slightly hysterical urge to laugh his head off. The “angel” in question didn’t seem angry about it – thankfully – and knelt solicitously beside him as his vision cleared. The man was young – couldn’t have been older than twenty – dark-haired, and -

Oh. And rather handsome at that. Quite uninjured and unbloodied as well.

Must’ve healed himself, Percy thought. Must be nice.

“Ah, yes, I should’ve thought -” the boy’s pale cheeks flushed as he swallowed his words, then cleared his throat. “You prefer Percy, I believe.”

His accent was that of an upper-class English gentleman, not merely the product of a middle-class education as was Percy’s own. A gentleman of noble birth, like John.

“Among those of my close acquaintance, yes,” he said staidly, sitting up slowly. Of which you are not, he did not say but instead let the sense of them hang in a beat’s pointed silence. “I thank you exceedingly for the extraction and apologize for the, er, rather barbarous reception.”

He waved a hand, cringing half-comically, over his face. The young man gave a short laugh.

“Mea culpa,” he stated emphatically, shaking his head. “I oughtn’t to have appeared so near you without warning when you were already on the defense against the Lost. My eagerness to speak to you got the better of me, I confess.”

“To me?” Percy was unable to keep a note of wariness from his voice as he eyed the boy. “Why?”

“I have been trying to make contact with you to no avail since you were returned to the world of the living,” he explained, meeting his gaze earnestly.

His eyes were the deepest blue Percy had ever seen; not the blue of the summer sky above them, but the rich hue of sapphires.

“I am your new guardian angel,” the boy continued, extending a hand to him. “My name is Hector, Hector Dalrymple.”

Percy accepted the proffered hand and found himself swiftly pulled to his feet with unexpected strength, swaying a moment before regaining his equilibrium. The young man’s – Hector’s – hand tightened on his and Percy was relieved to note that they were of a similar height. At least he wasn’t trapped in the form of a small child as he’d been the first time he’d been raised from Purgatory by his mother.

“How new?” Percy asked, narrowing his eyes and pointedly raising his left arm with its torn, blood-stained sleeve. The chunk of flesh that had been bitten off had healed but not without leaving behind a gruesomely visible scar. “Because I think I’ve a complaint or two for you.”

The flush returned to Hector’s handsome face, much to Percy’s satisfaction. 

~*~

...and you’ll have to wait for next Sunday for more. At least I threw in a spoiler this time. :P

[aen-hen-ichaer]

A lot of these thoughts are surface level but I feel strongly about them so I want to write them down hehe :3c

- David choosing his own name as an android is so fun, as a direct son of his "God" etc etc very on the nose but I like it (he absolutely sees himself as a work of art as well, no doubt about it). He is born with an almost inate forbidden fruit level of knowledge- he's a bit too human, as much as it would pain him to hear that

- in covenant when he tells Walter that he knew weyland personally, and Walter asks what he was like, David simply replies "he was human" which shows how far humans have fallen from grace in David's eyes and how disgusted he was by weyland in his final days. He says it with so much DERISION you can FEEL the disgust radiating off of him

-Davids unique form of curiosity is so compelling. He's not bound to morals like a human would be. When he infects Holloway with the black goo I can't help but feel like he's just fucking around to see what will happen

-When the Prometheus crew finds the engineers David seems just as disappointed with them as he is with humans. He also has this fascination with creation and is set on making the "perfect life form" but he seems totally oblivious to the fact that the engineers were probably trying to do the same? He's following entirely in their footsteps and doesn't seem to realise- a very human fault to be sure

-All life is so fallible to him up until this point - everything ages and dies. I believe when he saw how the engineers weren't much more than humans that that was when the seed of creation was planted in his head

-His curiosity reminds me of a child ripping off a butterfly's wings. The reality of the barbarity of what he's doing just doesn't fully get to him; curiosity is his priority

-David says he loves dr Shaw and I fully believe he does in his own fucked up serial killer way. To him Shaw probably embodies every good thing about humanity- her tenacity, her ingenuity, her sheer fucking will to survive - she's one of humanity's best while weyland was surely the worst of the worst (his CREATOR btw, I wonder how that makes him feel?)

-in covenant when Daniels is looking through David's sketches, they all have Shaw's face. I personally think David viewed Shaw as an indirect Mother figure to his new perfect organism, which is so interesting since Shaw was totally infertile herself

-everything between Walter and David is so, so fun. There's a very deliberate one sided sexual undertone between them (DON'T YOU DARE CALL ME WEIRD FOR THIS SEXUAL UNDERTONES ARE ALWAYS ON PURPOSE IN THESE MOVIES) and David seems desperately to want Walter to be like him. He wants an equal, he wants someone like him - he wants the partnerships he sees in humans, he wants someone, ANYONE to have the same goals and desires as him

-But Walter has the majority of those wants stripped from him very purposefully! He says it himself, David was too creepy and human and "idiosyncratic". To have a barrier between yourself and humanity - that has to be at the back of Walter's mind in some capacity as well. Not being allowed to create? Good God.

-Davids kiss to walter - just. Augh. He wants connection so bad he's willing to force it. Physically. Which again ties into the underlying themes of SA throughout the franchise, and we see David repeat this behaviour again later with Daniels. He's so forceful and desperate that he doesn't care who he hurts in the process as he tries to fulfill these needs of his - to connect, to create, to innovate

-Speaking of the flute scene he says that one neanderthal blew through a reed one day to entertain children. He says even apes stood upright at one point. I wonder does he see himself in the same light? A fluke? A perfect creation that just so happened to come from an ape?

-David doesn't instantly kill Walter when Walter finds out that he massacred the entire planet of engineer people. He gives Walter a chance to prove that he's like David, he wants so badly to have his "brother" be just like him. Of course he sees in the end that they are fundamentally different and jams a flute in his throat BUT that's so intriguing. What a human thing, to give another chance.

-The scene when the protomorph is born is just great. The score is sweet and warm, David's expression is almost motherly. And I would say motherly, not fatherly. While David didn't directly gestate these creatures, he created them, he cares about their growth, he loves them dearly. I truly believe he's jealous animals' biological ability to reproduce, and I hope one day we get to see how the Xenomorph got their biomechanical elements

-if the xenos did somehow get their biomechanical elements from David, how poetic would that be? Like a mother dying during childbirth, sacrificing herself for the sake of her young

-Obviously I just re watched covenant so I was thinking. David now has this entire colony ship at his disposal for experiments headed towards the currently untouched Origae 6. Will this become the xenomorph homeworld seen in the comics?

-David is a cunty gay. You shouldn't need me to elaborate but I will. He's the type that gives the most perfect back handed compliments. He's the type who blows smoke in your face in the smoking area. He pulls your earrings out in a fight. He is a CUNT. And I love him.

-Michael Fassbender should be showered with awards for his acting chops between David and Walter. Not only does he play androids perfectly he plays different but identical androids perfectly. GOOODDD HES SO GOOD AT IT

-winner of the most babygirl android award for several years running

Pls share your thoughts if u have any even if they're contradictory these films make me foam at the mouth (*・ω・)

feeling a lot of thoughts about David Prometheus tonight. 👱🏻‍♂️

[nimiana]

I can’t bring myself to write anything coherent in my MA about Achilles so what if Olympus lostbelt was about Achilles successing Zeus.

Achilles entire character arc revolving around his relationship with death is a result of prophecy about Thetis’ son being more powerful than his father, hence Thetis was forcefully wed to a mortal man. Thetis was apparently, according to some passages from the Iliad (and not only, we’re also counting here Nonnus, Quintus of Smyrna, Pseudo Apollodorus and more) WAY more powerful divine being than she appeared to be (see how she saved Zeus from other Olympians ((I 395-405)), saved Hephaestus from Hera ((XVIII 395-405)) btw I just noticed how the lines are the same that means something, saved Dionysus (( VI 135ff)) see also Alcman’s Cosmogony which describes her as primordial goddess of creation and order). Zeus wanted to well, rape her (please let’s stop pretending that it wasn’t about sexual violence), but either Themis (Pindar, Apollonius of Rhodos, Pseudo-Apollodorus) or Prometheus (Aeschylus or Pseudo-Aeschylus) told him that if Thetis bore an immortal son, he would be more powerful than his father. Now, greek mythology is full of generation based violence, from gods (Zeus/Cronus) to men (sons killing their fathers like Oedipus, fathers cursing their sons like in Phoenix’s ((who is Achilles’ surrogate father)) story) and since Zeus overthrown his father to rule over immortals and mortals alike no wonder he got scared and made Thetis surrender to mortal man and bang Achilles is mortal. So what if, say, Prometheus who has zero reason to love Zeus (read Prometheus Bound, it FUCKS) wouldn’t reveal to him that Achilles would be more powerful and Achilles would be Zeus’ own offspring? And would end up overthrowing Zeus and other Olympians?

So like, we’d have anti-god rebellion and the whole ‘humans conquering god trope’ with Achilles as a mean of Thetis’ revenge on gods. And Achilles who is fated not to die young, but to succeed the throne of heavens? Now, Achilles in the Iliad doesn’t wish he was immortal, but that he could return from war to Phtia together with Patroclus and raise his son (to the point that he wishes for Patroclus to take his role as Peleus’ son and Neoptolemus’ father). Achilles longs to be human and has his own life, not a pawn in someone’s game. So step 1) defeat Zeus and crown Achilles 2) Patroclus because of COURSE we have Patroclus in there either dies or Achilles realizes the opposite than in the original story: when Patroclus will die, god!Achilles will never see him again, they won’t have their bones buried together etc (conclusion goes: humanity has moral superiority over gods due to their understanding of death) 3) Achilles is resigned to destroy this lostbelt with Guda, but Thetis will not see her son die, not after all she has sacrificed 4) I just want to see ruler Thetis as a final boss