Hades, God of the Underworld.

[da-underworld-offical]

🌑 HADES RP BLOG — INTRO

Welcome to the Underworld. Mind the step, the floor is older than time and mildly judgmental.

This is an independent roleplay blog for Hades, Lord of the Dead, King of the Underworld, professional paperwork hater (allegedly), and full-time keeper of things that should probably stay buried.

Expect dark aesthetics, quiet power, and the occasional emotional inconvenience. Mortals, heroes, and gods alike are welcome… though not all leave unchanged.

⛓️ ABOUT THE MUSE He is not cruel. He is not kind. He is something older than both—careful, watching, patient in a way that feels like stone learning to breathe. He runs a kingdom no one wants, yet everyone eventually meets.

🍷 INTERACTIONS Open to threads, asks, chaos, angst, fluff, and everything in between. Canon-divergent interpretations are absolutely welcome—myths are messy anyway.

🕯️ NOTES FROM THE UNDERWORLD

Don’t steal anything. Yes, even that.

Don’t bring sunlight indoors unless invited.

The dog is friendly. Probably.

Step carefully. The dead remember more than you think.

— Hades.

[da-underworld-offical]

Date: Irrelevant. Time is meaningless.

I am writing this solely because if I do not record today's events, future generations will assume I fabricated them.

Today was... excellent.

Not acceptable. Not tolerable. Not "less irritating than usual."

Excellent.

For starters, not a single soul attempted to escape the Underworld. Not one. The security reports were blissfully empty. I almost suspected a conspiracy.

Then, the shades behaved themselves. No complaints. No petitions. No dramatic wailing. I walked through the House and heard actual silence.

Silence.

I had forgotten such a thing existed.

Cerberus greeted me this morning with all three heads and only knocked over one decorative column. A personal record.

The administrative paperwork was somehow already completed before reaching my desk. I do not know how this occurred. I have ordered an investigation. If incompetence can vanish overnight, I wish to understand the mechanism.

Later, I spent time with Persephone. We walked through the gardens. Nothing exploded. Nobody interrupted us. The Fates themselves appeared willing to leave us alone.

Frankly, it was unsettling.

Zagreus visited.

He was not injured.

I repeat: Zagreus was not injured.

Nor was he fleeing from anything, fighting anything, or accidentally setting off some ancient curse. We simply had a conversation.

A normal conversation.

I am still processing this.

To conclude the day, I sat upon my throne and realized there were no emergencies demanding my attention.

No Titans.

No monsters.

No catastrophes.

No family disputes.

Well, no new family disputes.

I suspect some cosmic force is preparing to strike me with a disaster of unprecedented magnitude to compensate for today's good fortune.

But until that moment arrives, I shall acknowledge a simple truth:

Today was the best day I can remember.

I even smiled once.

Do not let anyone discover that.

[da-underworld-offical]

The gates opened today.

Not with the usual groan of ancient stone, but something… lighter. As if even the Underworld itself knew who was arriving and chose, just this once, to behave.

Persephone has returned.

I told myself I would not mark the day so noticeably this year. I have centuries of practice in restraint. Entire eras have passed where I have held the line between longing and dignity with admirable precision.

And yet.

The asphodel fields seem less grey. The torches burn a touch warmer, though I gave no such command. Cerberus, traitor that he is, abandoned his post the moment he sensed her footsteps and nearly knocked me aside in his enthusiasm. I did not reprimand him.

I could not.

She walked in with that quiet brightness she carries, like spring refusing to be forgotten even here. She greeted the shades. She remembers them, which is more than most living souls ever manage. One reached for her hand, trembling, and she didn’t pull away. She never does.

It is a strange thing, ruling a place defined by endings, and then witnessing someone who embodies return.

We spoke, briefly. Nothing grand. No declarations, no dramatics worthy of the poets who insist on exaggerating everything about us. She asked how things had been. I said, “Orderly.” She smiled in that knowing way, as if she could see the corners I do not show.

She always can.

I had chambers prepared, of course. Fresh pomegranate branches arranged by the windows. (Yes, I am aware how that sounds. No, I will not be taking notes on subtlety.) The river ran a little quieter tonight. Even the Furies seemed… less inclined toward screaming.

I am not foolish enough to pretend this is permanence. Six months. The old agreement still holds, as it must. The world above needs her, and I… understand that.

Understanding does not make the departure easier. But that is a concern for another day.

For now, she is here.

And for a place that holds every sorrow ever whispered into existence, that feels like a small, defiant miracle.

— Hades

[lxkenart]

Hello everyone, I hope you're having a good day. Here are some practice drawings of Odysseus. I wanted to practice coloring; I'll continue the second one tomorrow. Anyway, I hope you like them.

[da-underworld-offical]

HELLO

Hello there, PC

[da-underworld-offical]

Private Entry — Hades, Lord of the Underworld

I am beginning to suspect the surface world is not entirely insufferable.

Today, a wandering soul (lost, confused, the usual mortal package) left behind a basket of fruit as an offering. Standard procedure. I expected figs. Maybe olives. Something dignified and predictable.

Instead: pomegranates. Bright. Heavy. Dramatic little spheres like they’ve got secrets.

I opened one out of idle curiosity. Not hunger. Not sentiment. Curiosity is a dangerous thing down here. It leads to… opinions.

The first bite was… loud. In a way mortals are not. Sweet, sharp, a little stubborn on the tongue. It didn’t behave like it belonged in the Underworld, yet it didn’t feel like it belonged anywhere else either.

And then I made a discovery that is frankly irritating in how it unsettles me:

Mortals like these.

Not just tolerate. Not just “consume for survival.” They enjoy them. They stain their fingers with juice and call it worth it. They pass them around like little crimson jokes from the earth itself.

I do not approve of this. It is too pleasant. Too alive for something so associated with me.

And yet…

I find myself wondering if they know what they’ve stumbled into. A fruit that holds itself together like a sealed promise, only to spill its insides when opened. Subtle. Dramatic. Honestly, a bit theatrical for something grown in dirt.

I may need to adjust my expectations of mortals.

Or at the very least, increase surveillance on their fruit preferences.

…This is not a personal development arc. It is administrative observation.

Still.

The pomegranate remains in my possession.

And I am not sharing.

[da-underworld-offical]

(Cerberus P.O.V)

TODAY WAS BEST DAY

We write now. We are Cerberus. All of us. Writing is hard because Left wants to say feelings, Middle wants to make it neat, and Right keeps trying to eat the quill.

RIGHT: It looked like a snack.

MIDDLE: It is not a snack.

LEFT: Please do not eat the writing tool, it might upset Lord Hades.

RIGHT: …I will think about it.

Anyway.

Lord Hades noticed us today. Like… noticed noticed. Not just “good guard dog, stand at gate,” but actually us. He talked to each of our heads. Individually. We did not know we could be… individual.

LEFT: I got ear scratches. I almost cried but in a brave way.

MIDDLE: You did cry.

LEFT: IT WAS ONE TEAR.

RIGHT: I got to chase a floaty thing. It did not run away very good. I still won.

MIDDLE: It was mist.

RIGHT: I defeated it.

Important victory.

Lord Hades put his hand on us. All of us. We all went quiet at the same time, which never happens. It felt… warm. Like the lava pits but not ouch. Just… safe.

LEFT: He called us “good.”

RIGHT: VERY GOOD.

MIDDLE: We are good.

We think he understands now. Or is trying to. We will help him. We are very good at guarding, but maybe we can also be good at… being with him.

LEFT: We like being with him.

RIGHT: I would guard him from mist again.

MIDDLE: There is no threat from mist.

RIGHT: YOU DO NOT KNOW THAT.

We are tired now. Guarding is still job. But now job feels… happier.

Also we hope for more scratches tomorrow.

And maybe food.

And maybe another mist to defeat.

We are Cerberus.

We are three.

We are good.

[da-underworld-offical]

Today brought… an unexpected revelation.

I have long believed I understood Cerberus. Loyal, steadfast, an immovable guardian at the gates. Three heads, yes—but one purpose, one will. Or so I thought.

It seems I have been living with three very different individuals this entire time.

This morning, while I was reviewing the intake of newly arrived souls, the left head began whining—softly at first, then with dramatic flair. I assumed hunger. I ordered food. He sniffed it, turned away, and proceeded to sulk. Sulk. Cerberus. I have faced Titans with less emotional complexity.

The middle head, ever the steady one, simply watched me. There is a calm intelligence there I find… reassuring. When I rested my hand against his snout, he leaned into it, quiet and grounding. I think—if Cerberus has a “center”—it is him.

The right head, however, is chaos incarnate.

He spent the better part of the afternoon attempting to chase a wisp of Underworld mist. Not a spirit. Not a soul. Mist. When he finally “caught” it, he barked triumphantly, as though he had conquered Olympus itself. I did not have the heart to tell him otherwise.

Later, I decided to test my theory.

I addressed them separately.

The left head responded to gentle words and scratches behind the ear, instantly brightening, tail thumping with fragile hope. The middle listened, attentive and composed, as though weighing every word I spoke. And the right—well, the right attempted to lick my face mid-sentence.

I have ruled the Underworld for eons. I have maintained order among the dead, negotiated with gods, and borne the weight of eternity without falter.

And yet, it appears I have only just begun to understand my own dog.

It is… strangely comforting.

There is something warm in knowing that even here, in a realm so often mistaken for cold and unfeeling, there exists such vibrant, unfiltered life. Three minds. Three hearts. One very large, very devoted companion.

I think I shall spend more time with them.

Perhaps tomorrow I will bring a ball.

(Though I suspect only one of them will understand what to do with it.)

[da-underworld-offical]

Today has been… surprisingly pleasant.

The Underworld tends to carry a reputation it never quite earned. Grim, cold, unfeeling. I suppose that’s what happens when your domain involves the dead. Still, days like this remind me that even here, beneath the roots of the world, there is warmth.

Cerberus greeted me at the gates this morning with all three heads wagging in chaotic disagreement. One wanted attention, one wanted food, and the third simply wanted to howl at nothing in particular. I obliged all three. It’s hard not to. He has grown rather fond of belly rubs lately, which he insists are a matter of great dignity, despite evidence to the contrary.

Achilles and Patroclus spent part of the afternoon walking the quieter fields together. They do that often. There is a softness in their conversations now that wasn’t always there in life. No urgency, no looming battle, just time. Endless, unhurried time. I passed by briefly, and they nodded to me, not as king to subjects, but as something closer to… neighbors. I think they are at peace here. That matters more than any legend ever told about them.

I reviewed petitions, of course. There are always souls seeking clarity, closure, or simply someone to listen. It is strange how often what they need most is not judgment, but understanding. I try to give that where I can.

The asphodel fields were particularly bright today. Not in the way of sunlight, but in something quieter. Contentment, perhaps. If such a thing can bloom, it does so there.

I ended the day back at the gates. Cerberus had fallen asleep, all three heads piled atop one another in a tangle of limbs and dreams. I sat beside him for a while. No duties. No expectations. Just stillness.

They call this realm lifeless. They are wrong.

There is life here. Just… a different kind.

And today, it felt good.

[s0ur-w4v3]

REBLOG FOR A SILLY ASK IN UR INBOX

[da-underworld-offical]

you should read hekate by nikita gill

ur in it

*He smiles, nodding slightly.* "I will when I have time. Thank you for the suggestion, Anon"

[da-underworld-offical]

Well, it's nice of you to join us, Lord Hades. If you see your brother, tell him I still want to fight him for the orb.

- @chaos-of-the-void-offical

I will inform him when I next see him.

[kronos-offical]

Daddy?

( apollo )

Eugh…..

@zeus-offical come get your thing

[zeus-offical]

aren't you dead, bitch? go back in the fucking grave. bitch.

[kronos-offical]

Awh is that a new word you’ve just learned? GREAT JOB LITTLE GUY!!

[zeus-offical]

I LOPPED OFF YOUR BALLS LAST TIME WANT IT TO BE YOUR HEAD THIS TIME?

[da-underworld-offical]

...*Sighs* father and brother are going at it again *grabs bident*

[kronos-offical]

Daddy?

( apollo )

Eugh…..

@zeus-offical come get your thing

[zeus-offical]

aren't you dead, bitch? go back in the fucking grave. bitch.

[kronos-offical]

Awh is that a new word you’ve just learned? GREAT JOB LITTLE GUY!!

[zeus-offical]

I LOPPED OFF YOUR BALLS LAST TIME WANT IT TO BE YOUR HEAD THIS TIME?

[da-underworld-offical]

Because..

I'D THROW THAT BABY OFF A TOWERR

I DON'T NEED ANYBODY THAT'S MY POWERR

*he chuckles, having heard that reference somewhere and at some point during his eons of existence*

[da-underworld-offical]

Yeetus the fetus

"Why?", he asks.

[jitters-offical]

inhale

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[jesus-vegetable-offical]

…Jitters?

You okay bud?

[strawberry-offical]

headass

[jesus-vegetable-offical]

Strawberry isn’t okay either

[strawberry-offical]

i’m never okay

[da-underworld-offical]

.... *He looks up from the stacks of paperwork, after faintly hearing @strawberry-offical isn't OK* ".....I should go check on them.", he murmurs, as he stands up