#crossposting bc why not

[playingforever]

Your streams are delightful! Do you and Avvy have any feelings on any of the other nightmares from the sequel? - retrospring ask [link]

(Assuming you're asking on what monsters/enemies I like and such...) Haiii, sure do. A mix of intrigue in the technical aspects of the designs as well as lore. Though overall my favorite aspect of LN2 is that everything can be analyzed as an aspect of Mono's psyche in Some manner... I always appreciate when an environment lets me process a protagonist more. (This is the appeal of Headspace/Blackspace in OMORI, as well as the backdrop of the labyrinth in Rebellion.) Subsequently...

... it should be unsurprising my favorite ghoul is actually the Thin Man. Now he looks, f-funny, to me, I mean in this world of hideous beings it's so funny to just get tall. In isolation he's rly like 'lol' to look at. Slenderman ass... But I think he is well utilized in his scenes. I enjoy watching him crawl out that TV. The calm slow walk expresses what it needs to, he's not a beast lunging at you. More methodical than that. Has been waiting patiently for this. I like the instrumentation of his theme, somehow layering the feel of a ticking clock, a heartbeat, and marching footsteps. His powers are also simply Very Cool, and since he is Mono it folds into Mono being Very Cool. I like the area of effect, slowing everything around him, glitching & blipping forward, kind of twitching around himself. Jerky animatronic.

I like that one could spend the game being like ohh Thin Man scary and menacing me... but once you get to the ending twist, you're forced to think about how this is a manifestation of Mono's sadness. That the Thin Man is the end result of sitting alone in a chair, agonized and alone. Becoming, haggard and pulled like taffy and stoic, because you are lonely... The fact that this misery then blasts out in the transmission all across the city and perpetuates everyone else's loneliness as well, it's like damn... He really sad tho... I suppose I find it moe. It's just suuch a dramatic response to rejection, you know.

Whatever his motivations or thought process is when kidnapping Six, I think they must be intresting and multi-faceted. Torment her...? But, enshrine her in a room with toys and her music-box forever...? It's Mono so I think his self-hate also manifests in being unable to resist making his past-self suffer to some capacity (using Six as live-bait feels petty, knowing that Mono is going to scrabble at her like GRR GIVE ME MY GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!!!!!!!) Even if Thin Man is perpetuating his own existence (having Mono steadily build powers & prime him for taking the Signal Tower for himself) it still feels more garbled and disordered than it ought to be. Or perhaps he himself also fully believes he can usurp fate from himself, through will-power alone. It might even be both, kind of; I don't think his mind is very linear so... [waves hand]

Now in tandem with the Thin Man, I really like the entity that is the Signal Tower itself. It can't really be looked at the same as the other inhabitants of the world, because it's not an Individual Person or anything (much like the Maw.) But I like how it's powers operate and what it utilizes at it's disposal. Have been regarding it kind of like a 'psychic parasite' to humanity. I think it craves a host with strong emotions that it can amplify and broadcast outwards, and I think ideally it would like someone who can Suffer Endlessly. Which is why Mono is such a perfect fit lol, it can perpetuate his warped view of the world and keep him running his little hamster wheel of a time loop, and he simply Will Do It, Forever, because he's so obsessive. I think other victims could easily fizzle out, or become so miserable they're helpless and unmotivated — and I imagine that's actually USUALLY what's happened until it got it's hands on Mono. Me and Avvy have discussed and, we've mused that perhaps it was a more unassuming building, perhaps it wasn't a tower before. It might have manifested in the city one day, and TVs are wholly its invention (imagine humanity just wouldn't have this technology without it.) And people would be enthralled by it and losing themselves to it, but LESS, full-scale total apocalyptic levels of the entire city warped.

The remnants of advertisements of the Maw actually give me the impression that there was a society functioning enough that... Like you could have a steady flow of SOME individuals going to the Maw, but it wasn't debilitating the population. Perhaps it mostly drew in the extravagantly wealthy, and those with 'nowhere else to go'. (Hunger triggering for the greedy & those with great absence in their lives.) Likewise, I figure the Signal Tower's transmission preyed upon those uniquely weak-willed and desperate for escapism, willing to stare at their TV all day. The potency of Mono's feelings eventually lets it expand to having dominion over a wider-radius, and effect time and space, and I think each loop degrades the world further and further... And the more you degrade the world, the more people ARE desperate to engage with the TV... the more TVs are proliferating and riddling the city in every nook n cranny... Like the city becoming riddled with bedbugs lol.

It's stimulating to think about. And, scary! Effectively scary enough that I now am kind of stressed that there is a TV in the Maw... when paired with the stinger in the DLC that alludes to the Thin Man watching, it makes me feel like ah yabai! The transmission can reach underwater, in the depths of the Maw... doesn't even 'care' that it's taking root inside a different entity exploiting humanity. Though I think the Maw really dgaf as long as it's perpetually eating, very Thog Don't Care about it (lol...) Maybe thog cannot even notice a TV more than it does the Guests' usual luggage and shoes and whatever detritus they bring in. Equivalent to the fur and bones an owl doesn't digest, compacting into the gizzard. Maw have a lot of room so Maw don't notice.

Now hm... what else... OH YES! There's a scrapped track related to an encounter that would have been with one of the TVs... the track is called Hypno, and there are unused animations for Mono appearing hypnotized, so it seems there would have been a threat of being under the thrall of the TV, like the Viewers do/are. I ultimately UNDERSTAND!! Why it was scrapped — it doesn't really make sense for Mono to be vulnerable to the transmission the way others are. I think cutting this sequence grants more integrity to Mono being able to commune with the TVs, as a unique host and ultimate master of the Signal Tower. When he approaches TVs strobing in light, Six covers her head from it, and cannot draw near. It's likely unbearable for basically anyone but Mono to approach (and even he is hunched & crumpling from the force of tuning the transmission.) So... I like-! This decision! In the long-run!

But I really love the Hypno track, and I'm very glad people have been able to unearth it. Because it's very serene and angelic. Which gives us a way of simulating the thrall that everyone is experiencing... Between that and the way Six is violently protective of her music box & miserable to be pulled out of its lull... It makes you understand why the Signal Tower works on everyone. In a world like this, wouldn't you just want to be bathed in that calm placidity, even if it warped and twisted you-? What is there to 'go back to'? Devilish and effective creature, the Signal Tower...

(If I could have my cake and eat it to, I'd have kept this portion of the game + theme, but simply had it be that Six is threatened with the hypnosis. If TVs had been very limited in presence outside of tuning, until you get to the heart of the city... and you'd pass by some engrossed viewers... then finally have to cross a threshold of a room where a TV is suspended & out of touch-radius, but emitting it's lovely tune, and there was no 'fully avoiding it'... I'd love to have to shepherd Six past this, while she tries to cover her ears and look away... and ah the intrigue one would have like, why doesn't it work on Mono...? Paper bag protection...? Somehow that doesn't seem right though... After the ending, I think you'd feel even more as though the Pale City is Mono's performance of protecting Six, because he's the reason there's a thrall to even 'protect' her from lol.)

AHMM! Now onto the rest.. -!!!! I feel like I could effectively summarize my order of interest as: The Hunter > The Doctor > The Teacher. The Hunter beats out everyone by having his setting simply be my favorite in the game. Love me a spooky isolated wilderness... cabin in da woods. Yeahh! I'm so glad we start here... In our stream, me and Avvy were uncontrollably admiring the cabin and what we could infer about his life here. He's an interesting guy with many hobbies, the Hunter... Whilst he gets described as 'bloodthirsty' (and I understand they're trying to convey this by having the taxidermy 'trophy' angle & the killing/trapping) he ah, doesn't quite read to me as killing for the sake of it. All the traps set outside the perimeter of the cabin, to Me, feel like they're for the sake of 'warding off' others; protective urges. As Mono nears his cabin, the dread to Me is 💭 oh god, this person really Really doesn't want anyone coming here... bc the traps become excessive the closer you get, and bodies are just left to rot. I suppose it's also the fact that there aren't like, scores of stuffed/mounted people in the house; it's specifically an impression of a 'family'. A mom and dad and child at a table... baa-chan in the attic... I must assume they're his family, or at least a family that meant a lot to him.

IMO it's not as if Tarsier would be unwilling to show us mounted human heads on the wall or something, I think the Hunter just Would have a trophy room if they wanted that to be the case lol. But ultimately they must have understood it'd be more tasteful & intimate to have there be such a select few people you see. Leaves more of an effect... And then the Hunter becomes a strange 'provider' for this family, by doing all the work of hunting game / skinning pelts / making leather / prepping meals to serve them. Even if it's unwell, it's methodical in a sense... And likely an endless obsession, as when Mono enters the cabin we see a kettle on in the kitchen, and what is likely a new batch of stew. I like that we see a sewing machine and things like birdhouses also piled along the trail & in his cabin, too. More meticulous things, sewing and wood-working... 'providing'. Truly a guy with a life he works away at... Bringing his own form of escapism here.

On a simpler note, I like him bag head and scary breathing sounds. I think you can watch breath puff out the hole in the bag when he is pursuing Mono and Six... kowai.. I really do not know what to make of the tears in his body. I've been thinking of him as reaching an eccentric point of stuffing his own clothes and bulking self out, to match his now-stuffed family. A bit like he lost the plot on the functionality and purpose of it all... but ah, who knows what's under there. It troubles me that he is similar enough in look to Mono (bag.. head...?) and that he initially has Six imprisoned. (Knowing that Mono is ultimately her captor?) I Don't Know What To Make Of It.

As for the Doctor... less to say here... He's unfortunately the most upsetting thing to look at in the game to me kfkfhhf... bloated corpse terrible uhh bunched hideous body crawling on the ceiling and what-all... But lol let's say that despite all that, I must be intrigued by the fact that he's got one of the most? Mutual? Consensual? Relationships with the beings in his 'domain'. It's unique. The Doctor is dutiful and his Patients are adoring; the Doctor believes what his work is important to conduct, the Patients believe that his treatments can help ease their suffering. However they've distorted, I feel as though their current state still carry this belief. So as the Doctor continuously hacks off their heads and massages their prosthetic limbs, the Patients accept it as the remedy they need to feel better.

The Doctor may be Upsettin' to look at, but the Patients are upsettin' in the interesting way, so I enjoi their designs. It's so excessive lol... ahrhh wrapped heads and face-plates on the ends of wires. Gotta get you all to stop watchin' them TVs!! Lol... Only move when there's no electricity on OK? Good.

Alsoo the life support patient scene to me is a good way to make us... question... what exactly Mono is capable of... While perhaps you could feel vindicated for smashing bullies endlessly, does it really feel good to pull the plug on a wrapped up, slowly-breathing body... Just to distract a guy to grab a fuse? How selfish lol... and then luring him away just to either incinerate him or leave him to starve, excessively cruel. You really are a disturbance that the Doctor feels justified in squashing!! Unruly behaviors.

As for the Teacher and the Bullies I really have the least to say about them. They don't contribute as much to the theme of escapism as I wish they did. However I think the cafeteria scene is very Tfw perspective of a child who felt tormented by other children. It's such an unkind way to see children but it's pretty raw if you've been, well, like ostracized and bullied and also felt alien to other children. Yeah they wind up feeling like terrible little screaming beasties that are slapping each other on the head and forcing things into each others mouths, right. Damn Mono... As for the Teacher ig I wish I could know what she uhh. Feels... about all the little child prisons around the school... Like hey girl. What happened. You good? [insert, the mysterious off screen scene of her whipping herself with a ruler.] It's a mysterious world.

[thinks...] Oh yeah the Viewers. Well I think it's funny how they BLAST FACE BEAM FRY YOU UP when they get you. Not much else to say. But I don't begrudge them, as they are the sheeple who did not deserve this fate. It's not right how Mono starts murking them left and right once Six has been taken from him. They exemplify how everyone is collateral to his obsession... Scene at the rooftops with them all jumping off very poignant for this, as Mono persists in search for Six.

Everything in the Pale City is more or less a victim to the Signal Tower, so there's no one I truly hate or can't stand... Oh, but I realize that's also how I feel about everything in the Maw as well. Maybe in a world like Little Nightmares, it's difficult to truly vilify anyone, because they're all kind of helpless past a point aren't they...

Avvy wrote a post on her tumblr ranking ghouls from 1 & 2, if you want to see that also.

[mynnthia]

was talking with a friend about how some of dunmeshi fаndom misunderstands kabru's initial feelings towards laios.

to sum up kabru's situation via a self-contained modernized metaphor:

kabru is like a guy who lost his entire family in a highly traumatic car accident. years later he joins a discord server and takes note of laios, another server member who seems interesting, so they start chatting. then laios reveals his special interest and favorite movie of all time is David Cronenberg's Crash (1996), and invites kabru to go watch a demolition derby with him

[illir]

[favouritefi]

Bruh so wild to see my ofmd s2 tweets being crossposted on tumblr and having nonizzy guys commenting in the tags like bruh stop this was not meant for your eyes

[milkbreadtoast]

OC sketches after a million years... I'm soooo happy bc they're finally looking pretty close to how I imagined T_T I've had these OCs since 2018-2019 but never finalized their designs (and barely ever drew them...) bc I didn't have the skill lvl to draw/design them how I wanted... but ig I've finally improved enough to get p close AAAH🤧

[coreytaylr]

if i dont post at least one (1) heartbreaking stede meta/theory/hc a day, i will die actually

ANYWAYS TLDR stede deserves to heal from his own trauma too ❤️

[acheforyou]

and just when you think you’ve hit rock bottom, you want to fuck a blonde guy

[clairedaring]

[Series Review] Trillion Game (2023) - an exhilaring fun ride from start to finish

I watched like four Japanese series in 2023 so I'm not sure I'm qualified to rank anything but for me personally, Trillion Game is the BEST Japanese series of 2023. The story and solutions felt cheesy at times but pacing, acting/cast, music, rewatch value. 10/10. I am so happy I decided on a whim to watch this after being in a slump of not being able to truly enjoy any series after I finished another drama which I considered my favorite series of 2023.

STORY

We follow Haru (Meguro Ren), an extremely charming communicator and Gaku (Sano Hayato), a brilliant IT engineer as they encounter obstacles on their start-up journey together. It is VERY fast paced drama with each episode following a certain formula that you'll figure out by the second episode. For the majority of the series, each episode starts with present Gaku, CEO of Trillion Game, reminiscing his and Haru's past adventures in the early days of their start-up business. While each episodes may seem formulaic, the stories are never boring and I found myself binging everything from start to finish, not being able to stop for a second. We've seen the unhinged genius x sane down-to-earth duo a bazillion times before but I think what makes this particular story so charming is the characterization of Haru who is self-proclaimed "the most selfish man in the world" but all his actions are completely contradictory, always self-less and putting everyone's needs above his. I love Haru so much. I don't know what they laced in the series but I am down bad for Tennoji Haru and I get why Princess Kiri wants Haru so bad as well, like same here sis.

ACTING/CAST

Meguro Ren and Imada Mio are just the most enigmatic actors, truly powerhouses. From edits on Youtube on Tiktok, you'd think these two have a lot of screen time together but they DON'T. Regardless, even when acting separately, they are bringing everything to the table and when they get scenes together, the chemistry is CHEMISTRYING. The sizzling tension between Haru and Princess Kiri are just top-notch. Sano Hayato and Fukumoto Riko are also just the most adorable nerds as Gaku and Rinrin. I love our four main leads so damn much. There's this one scene from Episode 2 where the first thing Haru does after receiving their initial 30 million yen investment is to bath in money and I remember thinking this is so nonsensical but at the same time found myself with the stupidest grin on my face watching Haru pushing Gaku out of his comfort zone to do all these insane things with him. I LOVE THEM. Meguro Ren is truly an enigmatic powerhouse in this one. I have only seen Meme in like three other dramas but Haru is definitely my top favorite Meguro Ren role ever.

MUSIC

The score is so energetic and fun. I love the main theme song of the series which is Dangerholic by Snow Man. The song is SAUR good I haven't skipped single outtro of any episode just to listen to this song. I watched a lot of series this year but Dangerholic is probably taking the crown as my favorite OST of 2023 in this very last minute race. As previously mentioned , Trillon Game has very exciting and energizing score and I'd argue that many business/office scenes are hard-carried by the score and excellent editing.

REWATCH VALUE

This series get a 100000000 for rewatch value because I just finished it and I'm already considering for another rewatch just because of how much fun I had watching it. But also because each episodes are so self-contained, Trillion Game will be fairly easy to rewatch any random episode in this series because you don't really need to the past episode to enjoy one, a recap at the beginning of each episode will do just fine. The tension between Haru and Princess Kiri is so insane even though there's no explicit romance going on. I think I need to rewatch it just for THEM.

PRODUCTION

This was definitely a low budget drama but TBS definitely made do with what they got. I understand if Princess Kiri's wardrobe alone was where most budget was allocated to. Like deserved! Trillion Game's strength lies more in the acting and story department so I wouldn't say this was a high value production but I will say I love all the rooftop scenes between Haru and Gaku. Those rooftop conversation scenes between them are just beautiful and heart-warming.

OVERALL

I love Haru with my entire heart. WATCH TRILLION GAME FOR HARU PLEASE.

[crqstalite]

[1] so much (for) stardust —

I feel like something bad has stretched out over and over again Until I'm creased and I'm about to break down the middle Split me right down the middle, right, right down the middle, yeah

In the aftermath of Meridian and the fight against the Archon, the crew of the Tempest finds their footing in Andromeda. Being pathfinder never came with a manual, but with six races depending on the young Talis Ryder to find them all a home, she wishes for one more every day. Not to mention trying to keep them from being at each others throats, a whirlwind romance, a brother who's turning out to be more trouble than he's worth and a plot against the Nexus, something's got to give.

And Talis is afraid it might be her.

A collection of stories about Pathfinder Ryder as she discovers herself and the cluster amid the political upheaval of an adolescent galaxy.

[set post-mass effect andromeda.] [female ryder/jaal ama darav, male ryder/cora harper]

chapter specific warnings: vomit mention, general sickness. whump.

-

February 25th, 2821 [1 year and 11 months since arrival to Andromeda] - Nexus Wards.

Logs: Mateo Sirius Ryder-Lucero

Mateo has thought about how this conversation would go at least three or four times since he left the Nexus nursery center, and it’s weighing him down more and more the closer he gets to Talis’ apartment. He only really has so many options and so far, the lint in his pockets and the hair product sticking to his fingers do not hold the answers that he needs. She’s pissed at him (rightfully so), as far as he knows, still hasn’t spoken to Cora after she overrode her order back on Voeld (arguably rightfully so), and the lack of having emotional stability through Jaal being gone had everyone on the Tempest walking on eggshells.

(He cannot wait for his future brother-in-law to get back. The sooner he can either get to her or get her to visit Lexi for a psych eval, the sooner everyone would be happy -- Talis included)

Whether he disagreed with her or not (he did) right now he needed to apologize. Just so he didn’t make everything worse than it already was. So after he'd dropped Ahri off with one of the attendants, he'd quickly made the trek out to the Nexus Presidium, considering both exactly what he was apologizing for (probably for insubordination and generally being a bit of a dick), and considering how she'd respond (probably not well). Little fires everywhere that he'd been ignoring for too long, too quick to get off of med-watch to realize his sister was drowning in responsibilities she wasn’t prepared for. Almost two years out from when they'd arrived in Andromeda, and regardless of her titles, Talis was still only twenty four. Same as him. Neither of them with any major 'leading' experience (they'd both held jobs on the Citadel like any other teenager, but. Well. False equivalent), and neither of them had done anything like this. The only other Pathfinder that had the necessary experience to be leading anyone was Raeka (he thinks that was her name), but everyone turned to his sister for help.

Talis only had so much help to give. Only had so much advice lying around before she was forced to say she didn't know, and if there was one thing his incredibly driven sister was horrible at, it was saying she didn't know how to do something.

Her newly discovered short fuse however was likely the direct consequence of this. He remains unsurprised, but her blowing up at him after the Tempest had rescued him from Voeld was new. And he wasn't exactly sure if he liked this new side of her. He was glad she wasn't as shy anymore, probably a good trait to shed as a Pathfinder, but perhaps he was just a smidge afraid of her now.

He probably hadn’t helped adding to her mounds of problems and causing her a shitton of stress on top of it. Who knew most people didn’t enjoy high stakes rescue missions in the middle of blizzards to find their twin brother when he wasn’t ever supposed to leave the station?

(According to Cora, most people knew this already. Go figure.)

When he buzzes the door to her apartment, she doesn’t answer immediately. Unusual for her, she usually came to the door as soon as she was able or would buzz him in at least. Frosty then. Ok. He could work with frosty.

(He should've brought food -- his mother would hit him upside the head with a sandal if she were awake.)

He rocks back and forth on his heels, considering whether he should come back later. She could still be in her meeting with Kandros and Addison from earlier, God knew those usually ran long. But he didn't really want to run all the way back to operations, and he imagines he'd look horribly pathetic waiting for her outside her apartment door like a lost puppy.

Which...is a weird way to refer to himself. Still the mental image works, but if he has to play the part of pathetic younger brother to get back on her good side, then so be it. He wasn't exactly above it at least.

He waits a few more minutes, checking the time, shoving his hands into his jacket pocket. He reaches the end of his hoodie string into his mouth, typing off a message to his sister before his SAM implant buzzes to life in his ear.

“SAM?” He asks around the endcap, “Where’s Talis?”

"Talis' implant has been dysfunctional for some time now. I have been primarily focused upon keeping her both conscious and stable. While my systems did not go dark, I am in a brief moment of human 'clarity'."

"What?" Mateo chews on the fabric, heart stopping and starting again as he processes the information, "Why would her implant be in the fritz? I mean, I know she took a hit or two on Voeld, but --"

"Mateo, we do not have long," SAM continues, and while he's incapable of changing his tone of voice, Mateo does not like the way he's enunciating his words, "Talis has been made gravely ill. Her interior systems are deteriorating as we speak."

"What?" Mateo asks again, this time spitting out the hoodie string, "Injured? Shit, SAM where is she?"

The door slides open before him and he rushes inside. He does a sweeping glance of the apartment, the kitchen empty and almost barren, her bedroom empty with only a few scattered pieces of clothing to even clue him in she may be home somewhere. Not in the bathroom, though the medicine cabinet is strewn open, with a bottle of painkillers left uncapped on the counter. A bucket lies on it’s side on the tile, water spilling out of it. Considering it hasn't dried yet, this was still recent.

His heart is racing as he doubles back, scanning the ground. Tile, tile, tile. He's beginning to hyperventilate almost, calling her name a few times. She doesn't answer, and he runs around a corner into her office fast enough to smack his hand against it. No one. Then he darts into the living room, catching a glimpse of the dirty blonde hair of his sister laid out in the middle, curled in on herself.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit..." Mateo mutters under his breath, pushing the coffee table out of the way, dropping to his knees to roll her over, carefully cradling her in an arm, "SAM--?"

"I have briefly relinquished control of her bodily systems to make contact with yourself and Dr. T'Perro. Most of my primary attention has been diverted onto keeping away the worst symptoms, but her illness is progressing faster than I can keep up," SAM answers in his ear, "She needs help, Mateo."

"I...I can see that, SAM," He says. Okay, as much as he’s panicking right now, he has to do a rudimentary status report. Talis is burning up beneath his fingers, barely clothed in a damp Initiative tank top that clings to her skin and shorts that are stained with what he thinks is vomit. He really hopes the few red stains are old as he brushes the hair that sticks to her face out of the way. She's flushed and somehow shivering under his touch, breathing labored. Her eyes flutter open for a moment, auburn orbs unfocused and glassy. She's not all there, and doesn't answer for a moment if she does recognize he’s here, head lolling to the side into Mateo's abdomen, "Tali, can you hear me? Sis, what happened? Are you okay--?"

She squints her eyes closed again against the light of the Nexus’ day cycle, voice crackling and rough, "Dad?"

Mateo's blood runs cold at that, and his voice creeps up an octave, "SAM, what's her base temp?"

"Her temperature spiked to almost 40 Celsius this morning, though I am working to lower it," SAM reports, "Hallucinations and confusion are not uncommon with fevers this high and consistent."

"Yeah...yeah that definitely sounds about right," Mateo squeaks out, glancing around for water, her freezer, whatever he thinks might cool her down, "What happened SAM? She seemed fine a couple days ago and now she just collapses middle of the day?"

"I am recognizing it as a toxin, though I am unsure of what origin, but it has damaged my reach over her physiological systems. With that, it has begun poisoning her, targeting organs and threatening to shut them down. Regardless, it seems the more I try to take back my control, the more I am pushed out. A virus perhaps, created specifically to target me and fatally wound the pathfinder."

"That--I don't...when did it even happen?"

"I am unsure. I can trace when symptoms began in earnest to about two days ago, but I could not pinpoint when exactly she became ill. Originally her symptoms seemed to have pointed to the common cold or influenza, but as they continued to worsen and become more severe, this became less of the case. If this virus is capable of shutting down the parts of her body I can control, then her body likely will end up in shock without my major involvement.”

Mateo’s head is spinning, and he barely understands what SAM is spitting back at him. He’s not a doctor, never has been, but he does understand that his twin is on the wrong side of ill. Poisoned, he can’t even begin to wrap his head around that one. Four days ago they’d been on Voeld, when the Tempest had come to rescue him. They’d only spent minimal time in one of of the raider camps, convinced they were friendly (or at least neutral) at the time. But…

Talis has been the only person he hadn’t had an eye on the whole time they were there in the ice shelf. But then again, they’d been taking care of something on Kadara prior to that. Elaaden even before that. All places that’d make sense if they’d hurt her with the concentration of exiles and possibly left over Roekaar. He has more than enough questions about that, but he can go over those concerns with Lexi when she gets here. If she gets here in time. He gently lays her back down to scuttle to his feet and rustle through her freezer for ice or water, fingers stinging against the cold shock and pulse throbbing in between his ribs, “SAM, ideas? When’s Lexi going to get here?”

“ETA 12 minutes, she is bringing a small emergency team with her,” He answers, “It is not advised to cool her down too fast, Mateo.”

“I know, I know,” He says. SAM’s right, he needed to cool her down but not shock her. He'd do more damage that way, and the last thing he needed was to put her in any more pain than she already was in. He learned that much in basic. He drops the ice in favor for a cold water bottle, shutting the fridge and quickly walking back to the living room, “Other ideas then? Did she take anything for it before this happened?”

“She had been lucid up until an hour ago. I requested she take a form of acetaminophen for both her fever and bodily aches, she said she would soon. Unfortunately, her fever spiked and she began vomiting again soon after — she had been laying here for almost fifteen minutes before you arrived. I had contacted Dr. T’Perro, you were already on your way,” SAM says. That answered why the pills were on the counter abandoned, and Mateo’s starting to put together a rough chain of events, “I have running theories upon what may be ailing her, but symptoms are not consistent to what I have already been aware of. I have concerns it may be Andromedan in origin or perhaps entirely synthetic.”

Mateo tilts her head up enough to laying against his shoulder when he kneels down again. She groans as he parts her lips, sitting her up to be careful to keep her from choking on the water he’d found, “Is it contagious?”

“The crew aboard the Tempest reports no symptoms, alien and human alike. While I am not directly patched into you, I have not detected any of the same symptoms or changes within you. No reports of endemic level infections on any of the planets she had visited in the past week either. This was likely deliberate, and targeted. Considering the pathfinder’s more recent activities on Kadara, her immune system was already compromised. If I did not still have some extensive control over her and was actively suppressing the worst of this ailment, she would likely already be—“

“Okay, thanks SAM, but I really don’t want to think about that right now,” Mateo cuts off the AI before he can even mention the idea of Talis being dead or dying. Three times was enough in his opinion, and he wasn’t around for those times, but he’d rather not be around for the fourth. Mateo refused to admit to being scared of a lot of things, but losing his sister again was definitely one of them.

Talis is at least capable of sipping down a few gulps of water before beginning to cough. And with her coughing comes her retching onto the rug beneath them after turning her head away from him. Barely a glance and he can tell its tinged just enough with red and bile that whatever she’s working with is doing far too much for him to fix on his own right now. He considers going back to her medicine cabinet for an antiemetic, but then again he’s not sure if he’d do more damage that way.

Goddamn it, he was never sure about these things and right now, he really wished he was, “Have you called Jaal yet?”

“Jaal is still out of contact, though I have pushed a message through to his omni tool. Likely he is still on his mission and will be unavailable for some time.”

“Great. That’s just great.” Mateo responds sarcastically, biting down on his lip. He really needed someone who was more resourceful here.

He hates feeling powerless, unable to diagnose and unable to help. He can clean later but right now he holds his sister close as she still mumbles for their father. He wishes someone else was here to tell him what to do, someone tangible. Someone like Suvi might know what plant or whatever might’ve caused this, someone like Cora would have some sort of plan in place already, but Mateo doesn’t know anything. Even Jaal might've been better, it might give some comfort to his sister knowing her partner was at her side.

But no, he was gone for a few more days on a Resistance operation.

He’s been out of the outpatient medcenter for maybe two months at this point and arguably, he’s already been tossed headfirst into the fire. He was barely a private by the time they left Andromeda, and his inexperience is shining like a badge as he leans the cool bottle against Talis’s forehead. She leans into his touch, not unlike a child, and whimpers. He needed someone else here, literally anyone else who might know what his next move should be. Even Talis would likely know what to do, and she was the one who was currently out of commission.

(Oh why didn’t he just go into biotech like his mom wanted him to?)

“Please, please, please, just stay awake Tali,” Mateo begs, moving the water bottle back to her neck when her eyes shut for a moment. That seems to bring some more coherency back to her briefly as she relaxes back into the cool comfort of it, though her eyes are threatening to flutter back closed, “C’mon Tali, at least stay awake until Lexi can get here.”

“Mm, Dad, I’m — still here. Don’ go.” Talis’ voice is small and weak, weaker than he’d heard her in years, “Don’ leave me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” Mateo answers back. To some extent, he’s curious what she’s seeing, what she’s thinking about. But the other part of him that’s terribly superstitious at times does not like what it implies, "I'm here, I'm here, I'm here."

Lexi arrives sometime later, he isn't sure how much later, the door to the apartment sliding open and Mateo jerking himself and Talis by accident, the latter of whom retches again onto the rug. Lexi’s not alone at least, with two others who carry a stretcher behind them. Her expression is already grim, brow bones furrowed and a deep frown across her face. She kneels down next to the pair, Mateo instinctively holding her closer.

“SAM already filled me in on my way here. We’ll take her to the Garson Memorial facility and contact some of our Angaran ambassadors — her scans don’t make me believe that whatever she ingested was Milky Way made,” The Asari confirms, waving her own scanner over Talis while a human and Turian come around his right, "Talis, can you hear me?"

When she doesn't immediately, instead squeezing her eyes shut against the light of Lexi's scanner, Lexi sighs. The Turian picks up the coffee table and discards it into the kitchen, while the human lays down the stretcher in it’s place. Mateo freezes in place, unsure of what to do next while so much goes on around him. A beam extends from the side of the bed, the human EMT quick to prepare what he thinks is an IV to hook up to Talis. Mateo hesitates to let go of his sister, in his right mind he knows they’re here to help and knows she’ll be fine but the last time he let her out of his sight…

So much has gone wrong. And he wasn't there for any of it to help. And he's about to be again if they take her away.

“Iz that—mom?” Talis warbles, her head turned towards Lexi. Her distress is more evident now, every wheezing breath she takes accompanied with the quivering that’s beginning to shake them both is scaring him more and more. Now that she can’t even differentiate between the ship’s doctor and their own mother, can’t differentiate between himself and their father, he just wants to know what’s happening. Wants SAM to shut her down again and just reboot her good as new, as much as that’s a pipe dream and would just as likely kill her outright, “Mom?”

“Mateo,” Lexi’s voice snaps him out of his panic, her cerulean eyes pinned on him. She seems to ignore Talis calling for her, though her stern look is starting to bleed into concern, “We’ll stabilize her and keep you updated on her condition, but we need to go now if we have any intention of getting her to the med center before she gets any worse.”

He allows himself one more second, cupping the side of her face with his free hand before relinquishing his grasp on his twin. The EMTs are as careful as they can be with her, the IV inserted and a monitor with her vitals appearing on her side when they attach it to her. The rest of the time that Lexi and her team are there blur into mush, as they ask questions and roll her back out of the apartment. Mateo does his best to answer with SAM filling in a lot of the major gaps, and makes a mental note to do his best on cleaning whenever he gets back, make sure to take care of what he can.

He walks alongside them as their brisk pace, an ambulance waiting for them and a small crowd beginning to form in the complex hallway. She’s rolled into the back of the skytruck, and one of the EMTs offers him a hand to pull him up. He takes it, hands shaking as he sits to her right.

Lexi is quick and efficient, attaching monitor after monitor to her. SAM assists her, rattling off reports. The sound of the EKG is what he thinks will haunt him after this, though. Talis had told him once that her prior two deaths were quick, like moments of being unconscious. She couldn't tell that she'd died, that she was dying. SAM had only given her a brief warning beforehand the second time, the third was quick and unable to have been predicted. The first, the first had been what had startled him most when she recounted it to him, her legs pulled up to her chest and almost at a whisper when he'd asked in the medbay.

She had been panicking. Had been terrified out of her mind.

Once the heart monitor is attached, the rapid and erratic beeping fills the back of the truck. Lexi glances at it, knitting her brows and quickly administering more medication after that discovery. He can't quite swallow around the lump in his throat, wondering if she's panicking now in her own mind. Wondering if she was, alone in her apartment and barely able to breathe. Likely hunched over a bucket, incapable of deciphering which was up or down or even who was right in front of her?

Why hadn't she called him? Texted him that she wasn't feeling well?He would've come running, even though he knows that thinking about this now wouldn't change the past. He knows the real answer, and doesn't like it much. Wish Talis stopped believing it.

Only SAM had known about this, and likely Talis had sworn him to some degree of secrecy. Mateo knew better than anyone Talis hated having people worry about her.

"God, you gotta stop doing this, Tali," Mateo whispers, throat scratchy and eyes burning, taking hold of her hand in between two of his own. Lexi diverts her eyes, carefully attaching an oxygen mask to her, "Gotta stop scaring me, gotta stop pulling the shittiest parlor tricks."

She doesn't acknowledge what he says, but her eyes are still open. Still flickering around the truck. They land on him briefly, lidded and dark, but at least he can live with the peace she's alive. She's still alive. And for all it's worth, will stay alive.

Because God knows he doesn't know what he'd do without her.

-

Rewinding...

[2] October 2nd, 2820

Logs: Talis Meissa Ryder-Lucero (Ark Hyperion Pathfinder)

[piskies]

kiriona gaia contains multitudes. one second she says the ninth’s cavalier is dead the next she’s telling the primordial manifestation of a dead planet’s anger/grief/love to step back bcs SHE declared her undying devotion to harrow FIRST

[maskspurpose]

anon asked: 11 for fine reunion...

**11: Is there any scene you can't wait for people to react to when reading? Why?**

OH MAN. I'm excited to see how all three WataYuzu shippers react to that. And for the reaction for when I put WataEi back on the Ep:Link rooftop the first time because I REALLY want to put them up there again. To talk past each other for an hour.

(https://retrospring.net/@maskspurpose/a/111409040870398811)

[warlordfelwinter]

Tales from the Dancing Sea Dragon

Part One: Dragon Heist

Chapter One: Another Day in Waterdeep & Chapter Two: Troubled Sleep

--

Celeste has a normal, boring day, and then a very un-normal, un-boring night.

~4k words

--

Celeste was… bored. 

He sighed, heavily, staring at the ceiling of his sitting room. He was lounging across a soft, green chaise sofa, one hand fiddling with the stone pendant around his neck. Devil’s heart. A blood red ruby formed in the Nine Hells, wrapped artfully in gold wire, always radiating a faint heat. It had been a gift from someone he had been missing lately. 

He tried, in vain, to remember what it was his love had told him would keep him away. He had said something about it, of that Celeste was certain. He was busy. He was always busy, but he was very busy. Too busy to spend time with Celeste for a while. He had said something… about something in… somewhere… He should have listened, but he distinctly remembered being distracted by watching his mouth as he spoke. Hints of sharp teeth and a forked tongue behind perfectly sculpted lips. Really it was hardly Celeste’s fault he hadn’t been paying attention to the words.

It had been weeks, at least, since he’d seen his beloved. So most days had been boring. But this day, in particular, was killing him. He was waiting. He had rehearsal tonight, again, for the Greengrass Festival. He’d been hired alongside a dance troupe for the main performance. For some reason, the proprietor insisted on having rehearsal in the evening, so Celeste had sort of been at a loss for things to do all day and had mostly ended up just staring at the ceiling. 

He got to his feet with a stretch and walked over to a bookshelf, unable to stop his gaze wandering around the room. Some might call it cluttered. There wasn’t an inch of empty space on the walls, no shelves unoccupied by books or trinkets. There were plants everywhere, some hanging, others on stands. Some of them were even still alive. Not due to anything Celeste had done, certainly. He didn’t have his mother’s way with plants, as evidenced by the ones that had been reduced to brittle brown stems in his care. He wondered if the ones still hanging on had been her favorites. Maybe some remnant of that love was keeping them from giving up. It had been enough to keep him from giving up more than once. 

He should get rid of the dead ones, he knew. Just like he should clean the shelves. Dust had built up between and atop all the baubles. He just couldn’t bring himself to move them. If he did, if he didn’t put them back just right, it would feel wrong. Too much like this was his house. Too final. 

Eight years. 

Eight years, and he still couldn’t face it. 

Coward, he thought, but he ignored himself and looked at the shelf, focusing on the books. Read that. Read that. Don’t want to read that. Read that. Definitely don’t want to read that. Read that. 

He sighed which turned into an exasperated groan. He tipped back, dropping into a backbend, palms flat on the floor over his head, abdomen arched. He held it for a minute or so, enjoying the stretch, and then collapsed onto the rug. 

Maybe he should eat. He was probably hungry. 

He got up and headed upstairs. His steps always faltered, just slightly, on the second floor. He didn’t look at the closed door across from the studio and forced himself to move quicker, almost dashing up the next flight. He didn’t look at the closed door up here either. It was habit, by now, to get into his room as fast as possible. If he didn’t see the closed doors, he wouldn’t think about it. That strategy never worked quite as well as he would have liked. 

He got dressed in something that would be decent for rehearsal. A tight shirt, sleeveless for the warm weather, and loose linen pants tied up slightly at the knee. His mothers bangles on his wrists and ankles, and the ruby pendant around his neck. He braided his hair, wrapping it up so it was somewhat contained and out of the way for dancing later, and didn’t bother with shoes. It was a warm, sunny, dry day and the streets of Waterdeep were always clean.

He dashed back downstairs and out the front door. It was bright and beautiful outside, his street alive with neighbors going about their business. Every building and streetlamp was festooned with ribbons and flowers, petals drifting through the air on a breeze that smelled like summer. He took a pause, the clinging shadows of the memories in his empty house fading away somewhat in the sunlight. Waterdeep. Home.

He trotted down the steps and then paused, trying to remember if he’d locked the door. He’d forgotten too many times. He went back up and found that no, he hadn’t. He locked it and pocketed his keys, heading back down the few steps off his front porch to the sidewalk. 

Celeste started walking, trying to think of what to eat. Was he even hungry? He didn’t think so, and the more he thought about it dancing on a freshly full stomach sounded like a bad idea. So rather than find a place to eat, he just kept walking, letting his feet carry him where they may, enjoying the feeling of the warm stone of the sidewalk beneath them.

The familiar bustle of Waterdeep moved around him. There was a rhythm to it all, the music of the city. He swayed as he walked, skipping and turning and spinning, dancing to a song only he could hear. Times like this, he felt a hint of that warmth and happiness he remembered from before. A muffled echo of what had once filled his whole heart, now always tinged with a bittersweet sadness. 

When Celeste came out of his wandering, aimless thoughts, he found himself at the gates of the City of the Dead and his steps came to a halt. 

Celeste stared at the open gate, and through to the trees and twisting pathways of the park and cemetery. So often recently his steps had brought him here and he wasn’t sure why. He always stopped at the gate, unable to force himself to go inside. 

It was the guilt, he thought. His parents, his sisters, they should be here. They were buried in Elturel, he’d been in no state to figure out funerary arrangements at the time. But he should have had them moved. If they were even still there, after the city had been transported to the Nine Hells and back. He didn't want to think about that. They deserved to be here, in their city, above ground. He knew he should have them moved, but it was just another thing he couldn’t bring himself to do. Eight years and he still couldn’t face it. 

He turned away from the gates, glancing up at the sun and realizing he was going to be late for rehearsal. He raced away from the cemetery, lingering regret burning away as he ran. 

---

The main market square of the city was well and thoroughly decorated for the Greengrass Festival, decked out in ribbons and flowers. There was a maypole in the center and Celeste could see the other dancers stretching and warming up for rehearsal as he approached. 

Their employer, a half-elven man named Mr. Grambelith, gave Celeste a dirty look as he spotted him. 

“Late again, Celeste?” he asked. 

“Sorry, lost track of time,” Celeste said, not meaning the apology even a little. 

“Yes, well, you need to—” 

Celeste walked past him, ignoring the rest of his flustered protestations. He didn’t care for Mr. Grambelith, the man made him uncomfortable for some reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he needed money and the other dancers were nice. 

“Ah, there he is! Late as always!” Daara exclaimed as he approached, in a much friendlier manner than their boss. 

“I promise I’ll be on time tomorrow,” Celeste said, with a sheepish grin. 

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Fil’onin said. 

“Places, everyone!” Mr. Grambelith snapped. “We’re running late thanks to someone, so you had all better be on point tonight!” 

Daara caught Celeste’s gaze and rolled her eyes. He stifled a laugh and moved to his starting position. 

The dance was a beautiful one, fluid and energetic, meant to bring to mind the beauty and warmth of the coming season. Celeste, these days, tried to gravitate more toward backup, but as was so often the case he was made the focal point. It was hard to find a better dancer to represent the sun than one who quite literally had a halo. 

The other reason, apart from his celestial blessed looks, that he was often made front and center in performances was that he was very good at what he did. Celeste had been dancing since he could walk, and professionally for twenty years. 

Even Mr. Grambelith could hardly find anything to be annoyed about as they worked through the choreography. He barked instructions that the dancers largely ignored, well aware that they knew what they were doing better than he did. Celeste helped the others master the steps they’d been struggling with, his energy seeming to give them the extra boost they needed to match him. 

As always, when he danced, the world seemed lighter. Throughout the rehearsal, that ever-present weight in his chest eased and his smiles came easier, more genuine. 

They danced through the routine one last time, perfectly, and Mr. Grambelith called a halt. The other dancers all gathered around Celeste, everyone breathing hard and covered in sweat. 

“So, Celeste, you’ll be coming to the Yawning Portal with us all tomorrow night, right?” Fil’onin asked. 

Celeste hesitated, caught unprepared. Before he could respond, Daara rescued him, coming up and slinging an arm around Fil’onin. 

“Don’t pressure him!” she chided. “Celeste, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, but we’d love to see you.” 

“I—” 

“Anyway, Fil, shouldn’t you be thinking about your footwork?” Daara went on. “You still can’t get that turn—” 

“Oi, I got it well enough!” Fil’onin protested. “I’ll get it tomorrow. It only counts when we get paid—” 

“You’ll get paid after the performance!” Mr. Grambelith interrupted. He went on, finding things to criticize about their efforts, but Celeste wasn’t listening he was trying to keep from laughing while one of the dancers stood behind Mr. Grambelith, silently mocking him. 

He wandered off, still muttering to himself. Clearly just a small man who wished to be more important than he was. 

“Maláka,” Celeste muttered, sticking his tongue out after him. 

“Well I have got a very important date to get to, so I will see you all tomorrow—” Fil’onin said. 

Daara looked at him critically. “A date, huh? I thought you said you were taking your mom to the spa. For her feet, wasn’t it?” 

“Well, I—you—listen—” Fil’onin stammered. He wriggled out from under Daara’s arm. “I’ll see you tomorrow! Celeste, we better see you at the Portal after!” 

“Say hi to your mom for me!” Daara called after him. 

Celeste laughed, feeling strange. They were so friendly, so familiar with each other, trying to extend that familiarity to him. It was instinctive now for him to shy away, reinforcing the walls he’d put up around his heart. 

“Right, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Daara said. “And again, we’d love to have you out with us after, but no pressure.” 

“I’ll think about it,” Celeste promised. He bid them goodnight and headed off, steps instinctively carrying him home as his mind mulled everything over. The sun had fully set, the streets lit by everburning lanterns. He should go out with the other dancers after the festival tomorrow. He would, he told himself. It had been a while since he’d been out, he’d earned a night of drinking. Besides, it wasn’t as if he had anything better to be doing at home. 

Someone coughed from an alley as he passed, startling him out of his thoughts. He peered down the alley, but he didn't slow and the shadows were heavy even for his eyes. He doubted it was anything of consequence. He looked around, focusing on where he was and more mindfully found his way to his home. He unlocked his front door and went inside, locking it again behind him. 

The house was dark, and quiet. His halo lit his way through the foyer into the dining room, giving his natural dark vision just enough of a boost. He didn’t bother lighting the lamps, just headed upstairs to his room, exhausted and sore from the day. As he climbed the stairs he couldn’t help but smell the air, hoping to catch a hint of brimstone, but he was alone. 

He changed into his sleeping clothes and crawled into bed, stretching out and quickly dropping out of consciousness. 

--

Chapter Two

Celeste was asleep, not quite dreaming yet, only aware of where he was because he felt someone else. A presence he hadn’t felt in a while but that he recognized instantly, one that had hovered occasionally at the edge of his mind as long as he could remember. 

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, Celeste?” 

The voice was formless. Celeste tried to remember the last time Hanala had actually spoken to him. He’d felt her disapproval a few times, quite sharply the first time he’d kissed a certain someone, but the last time he’d heard her voice… It must have been Baldur’s Gate. The day he’d left, when she’d helped him remember who he was. 

"You're not the same man you were last time we spoke. You've come so far, but you have farther yet to go, little light… Something is coming,” Hanala murmured. As she spoke, Celeste’s vision cleared and he saw Waterdeep, being devoured by shadow and silence. Hanala spoke slowly, as if she was describing something she was seeing. “Shadows are lengthening, growing to swallow Waterdeep, the Sword Coast, all of Toril. Aberrant folk flourish in the city, horned masks and black cloaks, moving around mortals in secrecy. What is it they want? What is it they’re looking for? Something bursts from the Nine Hells, razing the world into something new, something terrible. That’s why they’re here, they need something from the city. Something for her…” 

Celeste found himself standing on his street in the North Ward. The lamps were dark and the shadows heavy. The homes and businesses around him were rubble, burning. He could hear screaming and the air smelled of smoke and blood. Someone lurched past him, wailing as they burned to death. Celeste startled away as the scene shifted and he saw more people, burning, screaming, bleeding, dying. His stomach turned but it was empty. He stumbled back, almost tripping over a burning body, his chest tightening with horror as he recognized them. His neighbor, Jezzara. Efni was near them, both dead, throats slit in such a viscerally familiar way. Their own blood, pooling underneath them, sizzled and boiled away in the heat of the fire that consumed their bodies. 

“Why are you showing me this?” Celeste gasped, covering his eyes. “Please, I don’t want to see this!” he begged. 

The screaming stopped and he raised his head, vision blurred. He wasn’t in Waterdeep anymore, he was walking along what might have once been the Trade Way. It was hard to tell, the landscape was blasted and barren, forests burned to cinder. A harsh, dry wind flung ash and dirt into his face. Something flew overhead, a massive monstrous shadow passing over Celeste as the air shook with wing beats. 

He didn’t look up, he buried his face in his hands, trying to pull himself away from this dream, trying to wake up. He felt Hanala’s essence pull him closer. He heard the croaking call of ravens and his stomach dropped. 

Celeste looked up, knowing what he would see. A familiar tent through the trees, an absence of voices and song. He could smell blood. He sobbed. Mr. Grambelith’s voice echoed in his ears, past and present tangling together, “Late again, Celeste?” 

Celeste fell to his knees, curling into a ball. He cried, jaw clenched, chest tight with fear and grief and confusion. He felt the dream shift around him again. 

“Something’s coming, little light,” Hanala said. Her voice sounded more present and Celeste looked up, finding himself in a featureless white space. Hanala approached him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually seen her, but she looked the same. A deva in the form of a slender, dark-skinned woman with large black feathered wings folded behind her back. 

She knelt in front of him, hands gently cupping his face, her solid green eyes full of love and sympathy. 

“You have a choice, to meet this darkness with your light. I believe you can change this fate, but you can’t do it alone. Pay attention to your city, things are changing and you will need help, need others,” she murmured. She leaned in, placing her forehead against his, wiping tears away with her thumbs. “It feels safe to be alone, I know. Grief and pain have hardened your heart, but that light is still there. It wants to be let out, it wants to love again. Freely. Recklessly. You have a choice to find yourself, to be someone you could be proud of. Someone Maran and Asha and Yeifah… someone Lynn would be proud of.” 

A pained sob escaped Celeste and Hanala pulled him into her arms, holding him closer. 

“Open your heart again, little one, and open your eyes. You won’t survive what’s coming alone.” 

Celeste opened his eyes to darkness, finding himself in his bed in his room. He was drenched in cold sweat and crying. He couldn’t move, paralyzed by grief and fear. He laid awake, sobbing, for what felt like hours until exhaustion finally drove him back into a dreamless sleep. 

A Tenday Later.

Celeste opened his eyes, staring at the mural on his ceiling. Swirling white and gold lines and stars against dark blue. He stretched, arcing his back up. Another dreamless sleep. He hadn’t had any noteworthy dreams since Hanala had visited him, but he was skittish to sleep now, afraid he’d open his eyes to smoke and screaming. 

Those visions had occupied his mind since that night. He’d managed to perform at the festival that next day well enough, despite how exhausted he’d been. He’d declined the offer to join the other dancers at the Yawning Portal. He knew what Hanala had said about letting his walls down, but he’d been too troubled, too upset. 

He fiddled with the warm stone around his neck, thinking once again about what Hanala had showed him. Something bursts from the Nine Hells. He closed his eyes, hand tightening around the stone. 

“Dea… if you can hear me, I need to talk to you. Something’s coming, something bad. My guardian told me it was coming from the Hells. I’m… I’m choosing to believe it’s not you. I don’t think it’s you. What she showed me was too… chaotic. Too pointless. But if there’s something down there, you must know about it, right? Please, just… if you can hear me, I need to know what’s coming. I’m scared. Please, let me hear your voice soon, agápi mou. Mou lípis.” 

He opened his eyes and waited, in vain, for a familiar voice. After a few minutes, he sat up, feeling restless. His stomach growled and he realized he had forgotten to eat dinner last night. Again. 

Celeste got dressed, loosely braiding his hair, and left his house. He walked down the street, a few blocks, to his favorite bakery—Tokens of My Confections. It was where his father had worked when he’d been growing up and the smell always brought him waves of wistful nostalgia. 

It was busy as ever this morning, with a line out the door waiting to order. Celeste drifted past the customers, catching the eye of Rehma, the halfling proprietor, who already had his usual breakfast waiting—a warm cinnamon roll with citrus sugar glaze on top. He handed over a few coins and she smiled and winked at him, too busy to chat. 

Celeste hesitated. He usually ate in the bakery or at one of the tables outside, but it was so busy this morning he didn’t really want to stay. Before he could leave, however, someone called his name. 

“Celeste!” 

He turned to see a familiar face and a familiar lute and felt a smile come across his face despite himself. Mattrim “Three Strings” Mereg, a bard who often ended up getting hired for the same performances as Celeste. They had, consequently, spent quite a bit of time together over the past few years. Celeste kept people at arms length by design since he’d come back from Baldur’s Gate, but Mattrim was perhaps the closest he had to a friend. On this plane, at least. 

“It’s good to see you my friend!” Mattrim said. He glanced at the pastry in Celeste’s hands. “Oh that smells incredible, what is that?” 

“Best thing on the menu,” Celeste said. “Orange roll.” 

“Ohh I should get one, shouldn’t I?” 

“You really should.” 

“I’ll try it, I trust you, though I have to say I was quite disappointed by what I got. But I’ll give this place another chance. Hey, listen, I have a favor to ask you.” As usual, Mattrim spoke quickly, hardly letting Celeste get a breath in edgewise. He was normally a bit of a shy person, for a bard, and when he’d first met Celeste he’d been quieter. Less certain of himself. Something about Celeste had put him at ease and he’d become much more confident around him over the years. He had that effect on people, he knew. They trusted him, felt comfortable around him. It made it very difficult to keep them at a distance. 

“I’ll be performing at the Yawning Portal this evening,” Mattrim went on. “You know, I need the money, and it’s a busy time of year for them. All sorts of new adventurers coming around, trying their luck. I figure it’ll be a good audience. Would you come? Please? You don’t even have to talk to me, I just want a familiar face in the crowd. Moral support. Say you’ll come.” 

Celeste opened his mouth. 

“You don’t have to decide right now, just think about it, okay?” Mattrim said. “It’d mean the world to me if you’d be there. Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your bread roll thing. See you later, hopefully!” With that, he turned, heading back toward the counter. “Rehma! I want whatever it is you gave Celeste—” 

Celeste smiled to himself, shaking his head. Mattrim always brought the energy of someone who had eight different places he needed to be all at once. He quickly slipped outside around the crowd and started walking, letting his feet carry him where they may while he ate. 

He would go to see Mattrim tonight, he thought. Hanala had told him to stop closing himself off. Going out to a tavern with his friend seemed like an easy first step. 

Once again, Celeste’s steps led him to the City of the Dead. He stopped at the gate, hesitating again. He took a breath and kept walking, under the arched wrought iron gate. The sounds of the city seemed to drop away behind him as he walked further into the park. 

The path wound under trees, around tended flower beds and shrubs and statuary, as much a sprawling park as it was a cemetery. Waterdhavians had long since stopped burying their dead, keeping them above ground in mausoleums that dotted around the park. It didn’t feel like a place of death, it felt more like an open-air museum. 

Celeste followed one of the paths, walking slowly and finishing his breakfast. It was quiet here. Peaceful. It wasn’t crowded, but he wasn’t alone. 

He found a bench under a tree and sat down, watching the other people around him. There were a few others here alone but most had company. He saw a few couples, some parents with children. Some were bringing flowers to mausoleums, or little trinkets. He saw a few elves bringing rocks to place instead of flowers. Others were simply walking the paths. 

Celeste took a deep, slow breath. For the first time since Hanala’s visions, he felt relaxed. The sunlight coming through the trees, the smell of flowers on a gentle, warm breeze, the quiet, distant conversations of other Waterdhavians… Even his mind felt calm. At peace. 

There was something about seeing the other people here, realizing that they had lost too. Most of them were still smiling. He wondered how many of them were forcing those smiles, wearing them like a mask like he did. It made him feel a little less alone. He didn’t know any of these people and they didn’t know him, but they had all lost someone. 

[the-acid-pear]

today's prompts are spiders and self insert so i've been thinking of drawing nembone and a uh, bunger. but Im still thinking around the uh. ? i cant remember the word HELP the fucking COMPOSITION there.

[bronanlynch]

originally written for the Wind, Waves, Wishes Danmei Mermaid zine!

liu qianqiao/luo fumeng (word of honor/shl)

2.5k words, rated t

selkie!lqq x sea monster!lfm

Liu Qianqiao stood by the sea with someone else’s salt tears on her face and her sealskin in her hands. The sun had just set behind her, leaving the sky above the waves the washed out blue-purple of a healing bruise, and the wind that pulled her hair loose seemed to pull her closer.

Welcome home, said the sea in the gentle murmur of the surf.  Welcome home, said the gulls crying overhead.  Welcome home, said her own heartbeat, frantic with excitement, with anticipation of the rest of her life now that she was finally, finally free.

[fiveais]

A little anatomy practice and Awl.

[souridealist]

Her mother — Elmyra. Someone to keep me company while you’re away. Is that your name, little one? A child’s voice: he wasn’t my father. A man’s voice: they’re never going to let me near my daughter again. Two arbiters swirling, swirling, frantic, light shining through them.

A dark-haired figure in a long dark coat striding out of a crumbling mansion, striding through an untouched town to the mountain road. Strange light, and madness in green eyes.

3.5K, M, graphic violence & character death; draws on both original & remake continuities. Gen, focused on Aerith and Sephiroth. Aerith dreams of a world where she and Sephiroth play different roles.

Behind-the-scenes commentary after the cut!

This one’s a weird one! I have no idea how possible it is to gain a coherent sense of events in the other timeline. Hopefully less than zero?

Title is from T.S. Eliot’s “The Waste Land,” which I learned in titling this was Eliot quoting Charles Baudelaire. I absolutely do not claim to actually understand what the fuck is going on in The Waste Land, but it, like this fic, is a melancholy surreal tumble of images, and I’ve seen this line translated as my double, my brother, which is exactly the kind of thing I was going for.

Anyway, this is partly about me wanting to sort of underline that I don’t think anyone would come out of Sephiroth’s upbringing sane, and partly me really loving Aerith’s particular streak of ruthless practicality and wanting to poke at it. Turns out I think villain!Aerith would be really scary.

Why is Sephiroth Gainsborough a dancer? So, another Aerith fact I love is the way that her flowers, and her florist business, are a lovely but also extremely mundane and pragmatic use of her Cetra abilities. I wanted Sephiroth’s version of that, and he’s not a Cetra, but he has enhanced strength, reflexes, and dexterity, he tends to be animated with serious grace, and he has an impeccable flair for the dramatic. How can you use those to make a living, besides mercenary work? Dance.