#so it'd make sense to ^go on a retreat^

[beardedhandstoadshark]

Noo don’t delete your art blog! Art is fun when you draw for yourself and just sharing your creativity

Yeaaaa but it hasn't felt like drawing for myself for a while now, y'know? And what's the point of sharing something if no one wants it. Might as well keep everything to myself then. It's why it's primarily niche videogames and oc stuff too, that way I can at least tell myself it makes sense why no one looks at it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[gabessquishytum]

Dream is ambivalent about A/B/O genders. He's seen enough shit in the universe in billion years, current human civilization doesn't even come close to his definition of 'strange.' Still, he tried on various genders like clothes (he feels most comfortable being an omega), and even hoped in secret that Calliope would be amenable to mating when they got married. He breached the subject very tentatively, found out she was not delighted by the prospect of being tied to an Endless at all, and they never touched upon it again. Their marriage crashed and burned soon anyway, so it must have been for the best. After their reunion with Hob post-fishbowl, Dream decides to take him up on his offer to meet more frequently and drops by. The timing is unfortunate (or fortunate, depends on the point of view!) as his human alpha friend turns out to be in the middle of his rut. And maybe Dream is not versed in human communication and rites, but even he understands that it's better to leave and return next week. Which he is about to do before Hob very enthusiastically jumps his bones. Dream is extremely confused and tries to talk Hob out of this endeavor - he believes Hob is not interested in him like THAT, but Hob is as single-minded as only an alpha in a rut can be and showers Dream with all the words of passion and praise his fevered brain can come with. When he drops the l-word, Dream melts and gives in. They spend Hob's rut together, and Dream is on cloud nine: he feels cherished, desired, and, above all, LOVED. So when Hob suddenly bites him, Dream is not opposed at all. Alright, it'd have been better etiquette if they had discussed it beforehand, but Dream currently is more occupied being happy because 1) his love is requited; 2) Hob wants him as his mate! The problem is, Hob'd have never dared to jump his Stranger like that, let alone do anything to him. He hoped that if he's lucky, maybe he can try to court him…in 500 years or so. To him, all that occurred was just a feverish rut dream. So when Hob comes to his senses once his rut is over, he finds a very fucked out Dream looking at him with heart eyes in his bed, sees a fresh mating bite on his neck…and panics. Dream immediately comes to the conclusion that Hob already regrets their mating and dissolves into sand, retreating to the Dreaming before he starts crying in the presence of this human - his mate - that humiliated him so. Chaos ensues!

Oh dear. These idiots! They're both as bad as each other, really.

Hob is just horrified that he'd done that to his stranger - to Dream! It's totally taboo to bite someone without even talking about it, and they certainly didn't do that. Hob doesn't even know if Dream wanted it! Wait - what if he started crying and disappeared because he didn't want it!? Hob ends up running to the bathroom and throwing up at the mere idea. How could he do such a heinous thing to the man he loves?!

Meanwhile Dream is flooding the dreaming with his tears (yes, literally) because he thinks that his mate regrets everything and probably hates him. How can he face Hob ever again? He'll have to, because they're mated... if Dream goes into heat, he'll need Hob. Being without him simply won't be an option.

Desire, Despair and Death are all sitting in the threshold and collectively groaning because the idiots are idioting. And Matthew has had enough of trying not to drown in the dreaming, so he makes an executive raven decision and heads to the waking world.

He immediately confronts Hob (who is still panick stricken and white as a sheet) about why he rejected the boss?? And Hob just gapes at him like "rejected??? i thought i assaulted him!!!" Matthew face-palms. Face-wings. Whatever. He tells Hob to go the fuck to sleep and fix things.

Easier said than done. But Hob eventually gets to the dreaming, swims through the tears, and finds his poor miserable mate curled up on his throne. Dream doesn't look up at all until Hob nuzzles his mating bite. The flood recedes a little bit. And Hob tries to explain as tenderly as he can, why he freaked out when he woke up.

Dream falls even more in love with him, honestly.

And three weeks later, they spend Dream’s first heat with a mate together in Hob’s bed. It's everything he's ever wanted. And Dream gets to bite Hob, giving his alpha a perfect mating bite to match his own.

And yes, Matthew gets so many raven treats as a reward for his service to his King.

[fresh-outta-earthrealm]

Too damn late/early for this but IMAGINE a Betazoid meeting a Vulcan. I don't know who'd be more uncomfortable: the empath who can sense the person next to them having a Defcon 1 level freak out and can't do or say shit about it because acknowledging it is going to make it so much worse versus person who feels so deeply their people Had to shut down their emotions and retreat into logic to avoid self-destruction and is currently panicking because sure they can lie and deflect verbally all they want but you can't just. Shut down your reactions and feelings immediately. They're going to briefly exist before you stifle them and the person standing next to you can feel them as they form and are then stifled. I feel like it'd almost be a reverse Bones and Spock situation where the Betazoid reaffirms the Vulcan's heritage and good emotional control knowing damn well they do have those feelings and illogical impulses and the Vulcan complements/subtly thanks the Betazoid for not really pushing on expressing emotions they're not ready to admit they have. Idk all I know is the concept has not left me alone.

[prismuffin]

Heyo! How do you think Wally West, John Constantine, Hal Jordan, Dick Grayson and Conner Kent, react to accidentally falling asleep on their crush?

I feel like a lot of them would be a flustered mess!

Reader (He/Him)

- OwO

Ahhh I remember you, you requested that Steve Rogers fic huh? Well welcome back to my inbox- sorry it took me a minute I was out way longer than I thought I'd be! Anyways I think-

Wally would definitely be flustered when he wakes up. It'd just slowly dawn on him as you wake him up because he'd be so tired. Like he'd just stare at you with his eyes slowly widening and once he finally realizes he'd shoot so far away from you. His face would be completely red, his blush reaching his neck even and he'd just apologize while refusing to look at you. He'd decline any help on getting to his room and once he's in there he just screams into his pillow while kicking his feet. He just fell asleep on his guy crush. It's all he can think about. He definitely probably has a dream about it.

John wouldn't even be phased. Pfft, yeah he did just fall asleep on you, what are you gonna do about it? Exactly. He has a stone cold expression but fuck is he freaking out inside. He'd probably mumble something about being overworked and if you ask if he's getting enough sleep he'll almost drop his façade at the worry in your voice. He says he's fine, and begrudgingly allows you to help him to his room after you wouldn't let it go. He'd jokingly tell you to tuck him in, and you do. After you leave and he's alone he'd sigh dreamily before catching himself in such a love sick state. He'd smack both of his hands over his face, grumbling about how this random boy makes him feel like some stupid teenager in love. He'd also have dream about you and when he sees you the next morning he can't look you straight in the eye.

Hal would apologize while trying not to stutter too much. He'd feel pretty flustered about it but he wouldn't try and make it a big deal. When you ask if he's getting enough sleep he'd wave you off saying that he was fine but the way your concerned about him has his heart fluttering. He'd allow you to walk him to his room but he wouldn't let you inside, he'd tell you goodnight before he retreated to his sleeping chambers and the minute he shuts that doors his whole calm façade drops. He's cursing at himself for acting like such an idiot and falling asleep on you. It'd be on his mind all night and now he can't go back to sleep. No seriously, the embarrassment is keeping him awake god someone save him. When you see him the next morning and notice he somehow looks even more tired than the night before- you start fawning over him again and it only makes it worse.

Dick would probably be similar to Wally, in the sense that it doesn't immediately hit him. He'd be so tired that after you wake him he'd stare at you for like five seconds before cursing and mumbling an apology. He'd just slowly move off of you and would smile awkwardly while he tries to handle the situation without completely freaking out. When you ask him if he's been getting enough sleep he'll crack a joke about how he isn't and how he's very sleep deprived all the time. He does in fact let you walk him to his room but he's really flustered when you follow him inside to make sure he lays down. After you leave his heart would be pounding as he laid in his bed and similar to Hal he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep immediately. Though, over time he does get there. He to has a dream about you and it only makes him fall deeper in love.

Conner would try and play it off, key word is try here alright. His expression is stoic as he apologizes but they way he refuses to meet your eye and the way his face is practically glowing red is not helping his case. He'd be very embarrassed and would try and leave this situation as quickly as possible. When you ask if he's getting enough sleep he'll say he's fine and would excuse himself to go back to his room so he can get some sleep. But then you suggest walking him there to make sure he's alright and god damn his heart can't take the way you're worrying for him right now it's so god damn cute. Favoritism would take over and he'd allow you to walk him back to his room though he'd be hesitant on letting you inside. Once he's in bed he doesn't necessarily fall asleep easy but it's not cause he can't he just chooses not to as he replays the previous interaction over and over in his mind.

( this was unintentionally in rainbow order but I kinda love that )

———

Directory

[couldpolyamorysavethem]

AKIRA MADO, SEIDOU TAKIZAWA, and KOUTAROU AMON from TOKYO GHOUL

Justification:

"(Simplifying things here for those that haven't read tg) They were in a bit of a love triangle, where Seidou liked Akira, Akira liked Amon, and Amon was just a little bit clueless but also liked Akira. Now, these three, they go through some ROUGH times together and end up separated, but reunite in a bit of a shitty situation where all three of their lives are at risk. Seidou is now a murderer wanted dead, Akira was a sort of cop for lack of a better word but just broke a very serious law to protect him and got severely injured, and Amon decided to cover their retreat, nearly sacrificing himself for them (do you see their chemistry yet-). Now, in order to save Akira from dying from her wounds, Seidou willingly decides to help get some medicine directly related to his trauma but when they get there, they find Amon who is not in a sane state of mind. Seidou chooses to bring him back to his senses and take him home because he knew it'd make Akira happy. And then! Once Amon and Akira reunite, Seidou just leaves! He thinks she's better off with him, that they don't care about him after everything he did in the past (objectively incorrect, they very much do care). If they were poly, either a triad or a vee with Akira as the hinge, things would have ended so much better" - @canadianlucifer

[creatorbiaze]

A Fallen Star in Amist Memoriam

aka how Light Song and Vizerxa met.

Vivere = Vizerxa, Enigma = Videns

Lucidi was 18, Vizerxa was 15, Videns was 11.

Vivere walks down the long street, glancing at the buildings around her, trailing after Lucidi and Enigma, the first and third born Royals. She kept a book held tightly against her chest, her broken wings folded and pressed as close to herself as she could. She hated these outings that Lucidi dragged her into, but knew the eldest just wanted to spend time with their siblings when they weren't stuck learning their future responsibilities.

Lucidi walks with the confident flair they always do, waving to the Draconics they see with a smile. Enigma skips along, waving with bright eyes and a childish grin. They were both much more suited for this life than Vivere was, and she knew it.

Vivere notices a flash of white in an off-branching alleyway, and pauses to see if the other two siblings saw it. They seem to have not, as they keep walking. After a moment of hesitation, Vivere decides to investigate, slipping away to the alley.

Vivere looks around, scanning the path, until she freezes in fear. There, in front of her, was the unmistakable form of the Fallen Tyrant leaning against the wall, electric blue eyes that glowed menacingly and unnaturally lazily watching the walls.

It just.. didn't make sense for the Goddess to be there.. She'd declared war on Amist Memoriam less than a year ago, it'd be idiotic of her to go in alone! Vivere tries to back away, but the action catches the white haired Draconic's attention, unnerving gaze snapping onto her.

"Hello there. Vivere, correct? Fractal's second daughter?" Solis tilts her head, raising an eyebrow. Her voice was smooth and cool, icy and calculated. Vivere stood straighter by instinct.

".. What do you want?" Vivere asks cautiously while looking around for a way out. She could run back the way she came, but the Goddess would probably kill her before she could tell anyone.

The Ancient Draconic chuckles, talons clicking against the stone as she pushes herself off the wall to stand up straight. "Well, I've come to make a deal. You're smart, you can probably figure out the right choice easily," She says, extending a hand. Her movements were fluid and calm, nothing like the stiff, strict, and easy to anger tyrant that Vivere read about so many times.

"..No, I'm not falling for that," Vivere shakes her head, taking a step back. She wouldn't trust the Fallen Deity, she knew much better than that.

"Are you sure? I'll give you power and strength, the ability to be meaningful and remembered... Living as you are, I doubt you'll even have an afterlife.. No one will remember you for long. I'll even ensure protection over your family and the royal court, does that sound good?" Solis tilts her head, smiling just enough for her teeth to be visible. It was more threatening than kind, though.

Vivere pauses, thinking about the offer. ..She couldn't accept. The Corruption God always has fine print she doesn't mention. "..No," Vivere answers firmly, retreating backwards while keeping her eyes on the unimpressed Deity.

"Are you certain about that, young one?" Solis steps forward, head tilted, keeping Vivere and herself the same distance away as before. Every step back makes her step forward.

"Absolutely," Vivere replies coldly, eyes narrowed. She wouldn't be surprised if she mysteriously dies today, but death would be better than betraying her kingdom for Solis.

Solis puts a hand on Vivere's shoulder and seems about to say something again, but both Draconics can hear Enigma calling for Vivere, having noticed her absence. Vivere almost looks over her shoulder on instinct, but keeps her eyes firmly fixed on the tyrant.

"You may go, I suppose, I'd rather not be found," Solis sighs, rolling her eyes, "but if you tell anyone about our meeting.. I'll make sure to burn this kingdom to the ground and make you watch, and I'll save your family for the last to die while I torture you, painful and slow," Solis grins, gripping Vivere's shoulder. Vivere hurriedly nods, and Solis lets her go, allowing Vivere to speed walk back to their wandering siblings.

"Sorry, I just saw a cat. I wanted to pet it," Vivere lies, shrugging. Lucidi and Enigma seem to accept this lie, already excitedly talking about a cafe they wanted to bring the other siblings to. Vivere lets herself get dragged along once again, chuckling softly, though she couldn't get the image of the weird, electric blue eyes out of her head...

[winterspellsfrozenkit]

Ortho and ORTHO headcanon

With Book 7, episode 113 having that little nightmare scene of Idia's where the Phantom Ortho greeted him, I wanted to delve into my headcanon on what happened to the deceased Ortho after Book 6. For short hand, I'm going to use Ortho for the deceased Ortho Shroud and ORTHO for Humanoid Ortho, just to make writing simpler.

In short, my head canon is that Ortho's soul went into ORTHO, but he's not in control of ORTHO. Let me explain:

Starting off, Ortho/ORTHO appears to get his name from Orthros, the two headed dog killed by Heracles/Hercules during his labor to get the cattle of Geryon and Orthros is a brother of Cerberus. ORTHO's Cerberus Gear seems to support this theory that he's based on Cerberus and Orthros.

Since Cerberus is likely his inspiration, I'm gonna go into Cerberus a bit. I've always viewed Cerberus as three dogs with separate and distinct personalities sharing a body and emotions. In Disney's Hercules, we only see Cerberus a couple of times, but in his first scene, it gives off the idea that Cerberus's heads are separate thinkers due to the fact they fight over the steak Hades throws. If Cerberus had only one brain and the extra heads acted like limbs, it shouldn't matter which head got the steak.

That being said, Cerberus's heads do seem to share emotions and sensations, as Hercules is able to control Cerberus by grabbing one head's ears to direct the body, and when Hercules walks down that head's face, the other two heads also cowered along with it.

Now back to Ortho and ORTHO. In Book 6, episode 76, when Idia talks to the deceased Ortho, Ortho is manifesting using ORTHO's body.

Ortho tells Idia he needs to keep living, confirms at the end of his speech that he'll always be with Idia and encourages Idia to not give up and afterwards, he fades away. However, there is one distinct thing he does right before he says this: He changes from Ortho's "Nii-chan/Idy", to ORTHO's "Nii-san/Idia". This is important because later, ORTHO tells Idia that "Ortho is right here."

Going back to that speech change, I read it as the moment where Ortho decided to merge his human soul into ORTHO's memory card, so he could stay with and help encourage Idia. However, ORTHO is not Ortho, but like Orthros and Cerberus, they now share a body, but rather than having two heads with separate minds, Ortho chooses to stay dormant inside ORTHO. I believe it's because 1. he's knows that because he's dead, if he took over ORTHO's body it'd cause more harm to Idia than good and 2. he wants ORTHO to have the chance to choose to live how ORTHO wants, which was the choice Ortho and Idia were never offered. As a result, Ortho only shares his feelings with ORTHO, but not his conscious thoughts, much like how Cerberus's heads share sensations and emotions, but are still three separate heads.

ORTHO is his own self, but he can sense the deceased Ortho inside and deceased Ortho's feelings linger around. Ortho's soul being in ORTHO also explains why ORTHO can no longer be reprogrammed as he shares his human will to ORTHO, which protects ORTHO's consciousness and ability to make choices without the fear of being reprogrammed. In short, ORTHO is free to make his own decisions, but both Ortho and ORTHO are there, willing to help and guard their big brother.

Also, quick note, but looking to the fact that Idia is not only compared to Hades, but Hercules, it ties in nicely that, in a way, Idia and ORTHO did succeed in saving their brother from his tragic death, like how Hercules brought Meg back from hers in the Disney movie.

Now how does that play into Book 7?

When Idia falls into the nightmare, ORTHO declares that he will definitely come back for him before he retreats. I think this is where deceased Ortho decided to manifest for a bit. When ORTHO was able to get back to Idia's dream room, Ortho, as a soul of a deceased human, was able to delve deeper into Idia's dream to the nightmare level Idia was at, where ORTHO couldn't risk going without being lost. When he got to Idia, he chose to manifest as his Phantom body to force Idia to face the truth of reality and give him a kick in the pants. Also, he might've been a tad insulted that Idia dreamed for him to go to RSA. After all, when he was alive, he just wanted to always be with his brother, so the fact Idia's wish for him was to go to the school that's NRC's RIVAL? Yeah, I'm pretty sure that ticked Ortho off. Hence the heckling he gave Idia.

Once Idia went back to the main dream, I think Ortho retreated back into ORTHO, relieved that his elder brother was back where their younger brother could help him.

But that's just my head canon.

[shepherds-of-haven]

How resilient are the ROs in a fight? Like who can take a beating and get up and keep fighting?

Pretty much all of the Shepherds who regularly face combat can take an ass-kicking and can get back up: that's pretty much a prerequisite of the job, if you're a Lunar Corps agent! If you're asking me to rate it on a scale, it'd probably be:

Blade - Briony (tied for most physically durable with most amount of stamina) - also tied with Halek (blood-rage mode: will literally keep fighting until something knocks him out or kills him, but that's not really in his control... also in his berserker state, he doesn't feel pain or tiredness, so... yeah. Some Hunters have had their hearts stop because the blood-rage removes their "limiters" and pushes their bodies too far)

Trouble - Ayla (spiritual resilience rivals that of Blade or Briony, even if physical endurance is slightly less: they'll DIE fighting on their feet or not at all)

Chase - maniac who doesn't really feel fear and exhibits extreme physical resilience and a surprising amount of stubbornness (but also often displays enough good sense to retreat if something looks hopeless). I guess if you're asking how long he can withstand torture or a beating, he's probably at the top of the list, but if you're asking how long will he keep picking himself up *to continue fighting*, he knows when to beat a tactical retreat when it's looking hopeless rather than sticking around to get whaled on. The first five don't have that trait

Lavinet - tough-ass lady who will keep going, bloodied and haggard, no matter what, but her overall "limit" is still beneath Chase's before her body quits on her

Tallys - high physical endurance and resistance to pain, but prefers a more cautious approach and would prefer to lay down arms and figure out a way to escape rather than continually just throwing everything she has into a fight if they're kicking the absolute shit out of her

Red - he can take an ass-kicking, but asking him to endlessly keep swinging through it is kind of tough lol

Shery - Riel (Shery: the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. I actually used to think Shery was cowardly, but I'm coming to find out that she's mentally and emotionally tougher than I gave her credit for, and I think she'd be able to withstand getting beat up without breaking or surrendering if it was really important! This could also come from being bullied as a child. But she certainly wouldn't be able to pick herself up and keep on fighting, she'd just 'endure' silently before passing out or fainting from the pain! Riel: he has a high enough pain tolerance and mental resilience to laugh in the face of people kicking the shit out of him or torturing him physically--his pride wouldn't allow him to react much--but physical frailty and inexperience to people putting hands on him would mean it wouldn't take very much to fuck him up lol, that guy's never been in a fight before, even the idea of him putting his fists up makes me laugh-cry-scream, it feels very wrong)

[jacksprostate]

A virus takes up residence in your throat: you've got laryngitis, and you get sentenced to manning the slide deck and watching your boss butcher your presentation to upper management.

This is something I would've cared more about before meeting Tyler. Now, I'm only annoyed it's not my broken nose and sunken eyes keeping me in the corner, annoyed the swelling in my throat gives my boss an easy and comfortable excuse for my asocial demeanor.

I tongue the hole in my cheek so my teeth will be fresh with blood when I shake hands with my boss's boss and peel my lips apart in some lazy reminiscence of a smile.

If I spoke right now, I'd sound like Freddy Krueger. Nancy, Nancy, Nancy.

When you talk in your head, your vocal cords practice. The pain strikes me as unusual after all this blunt force trauma.

It's a bit embarassing, how much my throat hurts as Tyler coughs up the rules for fight club on Saturday. I'm following along like a baptist, amen, my throat spasms as he says it all. He's a bit hoarse. If I get Tyler sick, if the little virus making my buddhist retreat from society mandatory curses Tyler to silence, I know he'll start scrawling on the walls. We've as of yet avoided going Goya with it. The grimace on Tyler's face says that's a dying statement.

Marla comes around, once. I croak at her. She disappears, she shows back up, my father constantly slips out of the room as my mother forgets her keys. I get chamomile herbal tossed in my face.

"Maybe it'll solve both your problems," Marla says, and waves off my protests that I drank this tea for a year straight and never gained a drop of sleep. Tyler, when he crawls out of his hole, sniffs the box and sets it aside for soap. If I wanted to protest this, I couldn't.

I think, I wouldn't mind if this continued. Tyler can recover; should. Tyler needs to talk. It's one of those, not quite necessary in the hunter-gatherer sense of the word things that I would rather jam a rusty box cutter deep into my asshole than live without.

My own voice, though?

It'd be alright without a funeral.

[just-some-random-blogger]

hiii ive just started reading your stuff and it’s amazing!! i just read dove snakes and dragons and it was so good!!! i was wondering if you were doing a part 2? if so I have an idea!

so the reader would be doing another round of delivering for daemon and she told him she will fly but last minute decides to go in land, be a dear or whatever instead. And that week was a royal hunt and since daemon doesn’t know while hunting he SHOOTS HER! 🤭🤭

To The Heart

Daemon Targaryen x Shapeshifter!Reader

Summary: In the words of Ser Jon Bon Jovie, "shot through the heart, and you're to blame," you get shot through the heart with an arrow by your beloved prince.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions/depictions of hunting/death, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: I only agreed to make a p2 cos swan lake core (more or less). lol HAHHAHA therefore you must listen to Tchaikovsky. i dont think you have to read p1 to understand, but i suggest you do. also, nonnie, i specifically said in the previous fic she could only turn to birds and reptiles so swan lake core! (more or less) hope you like it nonnie, i did change somethings!!! Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @siriusdumblittlepuppy Part 1 "Doves, Snakes, Dragons"

"What are you doing here?!"

I turn to the platinum haired prince gripping my arm hissing in my ear. I feel my heart constrict at the sight of him. He has never looked at me with such a hard and judgmental expression before.

"I have work, your grace," I take his hand on my bicep and slowly push it away.

"Work?" Daemon narrows his eyes, "you work for me."

"Yes," I mutter, shifting where I stood to face him, "but not you alone."

His jaw clenches, his eye twitches. He does a once over of the room, then turns back to me, "who?"

I pull a smile. We had not spoken since the time he left me under the tree, still reeling from the feel of him, discarded with only his cold command to deliver word to Lord Baratheon, and how he was demanding answers from me.

"I cannot say, prince Daemon."

"You cannot say?" he scoffs in disbelief, stepping even closer to me.

I retreat, allowing an apt space remain between us. I bow in regard, "please, excuse me, I must get going."

I feel a dread rise in me when I turn about. I dread the idea of him reaching out to me an holding me back. I don't think I could contain myself if he did. I might burst into tears or into a fit, or I might just fall into his arms and ask him never to leave me again.

And yet the farther I got from him with him not calling out to me, the more the dread grew... he didn't want to hold me back.

I shake my head, placing my face in my hands. I release a breath. Anyway, I finished what I must do. I must away, lest I do something scandalous.

"Ah, prince Daemon," a lord comes up to him, slapping a hand on his shoulder all too familiarly, "the horses are ready."

Daemon shrugs off the hand on him, "what horses?!" he snips.

The lord, who had sworn he had gotten in the good favors of the prince recoils at the iciness of his tone. He clears his throat, straightening himself off, "for the hunt, your highness."

Daemon snorts, looking away, trying to find whom he had just been conversing with, finding no one. He thinks, "fine," he clenches his jaw, "It'd do me good."

The lord perks, following after Daemon, who storms away, "y-yes, my prince! It heightens the senses, clears the mind! Hunting is-"

And so Daemon and three other lords he could not care any less for, rode off to the forest, with arrows, and swords, and most of all, a restless anger inside the prince.

The prince lead them as he navigated the forest to look for a deer while the lords conversed giddily behind his ride. They had been riding for a while and found nothing thus far. Daemon rubbed his ear in annoyance of their chimes and sharply loud laughter as they made it near a lake. They unmount their steeds, allowing the horses to rest a moment.

Daemon leads the horse, petting the side of her face, muttering High Valyrian under his breath.

"It won't be long, prince," the same lord who came to him earlier calls, "we will find your prize soon enough."

Daemon barely gives him a look in regard.

Just then, a large winged creature swoops down and lands on the lake, making all but the prince turn to the bird in awe.

"Oh my word!" one exclaims, "my prince look!" he points across the water, "that is a handsome swan if I have ever seen one."

Daemon looks at the white beast, floating in the clear body in front of them. He is uninterested at first, but he too raises a brow at the marvelous creature, great and truly handsome.

One of the lords grabs his bow, offering it to the prince. Daemon looks at him, taking the bow slowly as he is then offered a quiver. Daemon looks at the lord holding up the arrows, then the swan, thinking there was something about it that captured his soul. He does not want to shoot it.

When Daemon does not take an arrow, the lord knits his brow, "do you not want to claim your prize?"

"My prize is a buck, not a bird."

"Oh, but my prince," another lord says, "look at the size of the thing," he points, throwing his head back. "Surely, you cannot let him slip away."

Daemon raises a brow, "how are you sure it is not female?"

Any hunter would know not to kill a female of the species.

"Trust me, your grace," he raises a hand, "female swans do not get that big."

For a moment there is an internal debate within Daemon. He looks out at the swan, carelessly swimming about, wings fluttering behind. Then, almost against himself, he draws an arrow and loads his bow.

He tilts his head at the winged beast, feeling almost a visceral call within him not to shoot it. It is so foreign and conflicting, it makes him want to shoot the thing even more.

And so he aims and releases.

Then all at once, all four of them are aghast, bewildered by the sound of the cry and the red that gushes out. The lords gasp in horror, watching the creature morph into a naked woman and begin to sink.

Daemon calls out a name, loudly and helplessly, dropping what was in his grips, immediately running into the lake, uncaring of how deep it would get and how wet he would be.

He moves as if his life depended on it, for there was a life that did, after all.

I hear my name get called, but it's all too painful to move, or even breathe. My tears on my face sink into the cold water.

I feel the water ripple and hands reach out to me.

My name is called out again. I managed a painful breath when my head it propped up. It keeps the water out of my airways, but the arrow in my rib constricts my breathing either way.

"Daemon?" I gurgle, feeling water come out my mouth.

Daemon's eyes widen with horror. His tears gush out like the blood the arrow he shot was causing. He watches the red trail down to the water.

"I- W- You said- why are you- I-"

"I did not know you loathed me so," I choke, shutting my eyes, for I had no energy to do anything else.

"NO!" he screams, clutching me closes, "I'm not- I don't- Please, don't-"

My body relaxes against him. Daemon tenses, shaking his head, "no, no, NO! NO!"

He adjust his grip, carrying the limp body in his grip as he wades out of the water. The lords only watch, for they did not have the wits to do anything.

[grokebaby]

To feed an angel

Xerxes retreated into his private quarters after another long dusty day. Sensing it's parent's presence, Athena cracked into warbled, buzzing cries. Like a divinely singing little cricket. She must've been hungry, spending day after day alone in her nest, just waiting for Papa to come feed her again..

She always had breakfast of course, right before Xerxes had to leave for the day's duties. But seeing how long his days were, that was while ago by now.

Cooing at the fat little grub nestled inside a hay filled suit of armor, he picked it up, cradling her in his arms. His little angel.

Literally, of course.

"Ohh Papas here again little precious.. No more crying, I know.. I know, it was such a long day.. What a whipped papa you have don't you?" he hoisted the chubby thing into his arms as it squirmed and reached it's tiny appendages to him.

To the food source.

Wasting no more time, Xerxes cupped her into his armpit, making sure his hold was secure before giving it his wrist, and Athena latched on immediately. She always does. She's such a good, strong little baby. He felt her proboscis pierce skin in one swift sting and soon enough the little grub was suckling, with rhythmic wave motions going all throughout her body as she used all her might to fill her tummy with blood.

In her younger stages, her milky skin was translucent enough to tell where the food storage resided inside her squishy little body, but with each passing week it had began to get harder to spot the quickly filling, vermillion colored spot on the grub. They grow up so fast.. Soon her skin would likely become harder, more coarse.. Maybe then Papa could let her roam inside the barn more freely.

Xerxes found his usual spot, and his taur body laid down to sit as the happy little grub fed. He laid a little kiss on her dark little head. "That's my little angel.." he murmured softly. "It must be so dreadful to sit and wait here all day.. I wish I'd have friends for you.. Papa misses you so much every day. But here you are, always waiting for me. And I'm thankful for that every day. Good little angel.." he continued, softly speaking to the suckling grub. She was so beautiful. He wondered when it'd be her time to cocoon, and how long she'd be in there..

He can't really know until it happens, huh?

After a while, she did unlatch finally. He always flipped her on her back and petted her tummy after, she liked that alot. She usually fell asleep soon after for a little nap. Or for the rest of the night.. That worked too.

"ap.." a fragmented, circadian voice babbled. Xerxes hummed, massaging her belly. "apa.. Ap..."

"Yes, that's me.. Papas right here.."

"Apas.."

"Yes you just relax my sweet little bug.. You're safe with me. I'm here."

"Apas here.. Apa.."

He loved her so much

[randomwriteronline]

"Ah... There you are."

The two turned sharply towards the door.

"Thought I'd heard someone yipping over here," the Jungle Agori smiled, her mouth sliding to one side of her face instead of widening normally. "You've been quite busy with your vocalizing, haven't you, little sand bats?"

Kopaka tightened his shoulders and treated her to a glare. If she'd known him for as long as his siblings had, she might have been able to figure out that he wasn't furious, or annoyed; if she'd known him as much as Nuju or Pohatu did, she would have probably giggled a little recognizing his embarrassment and reassured him that she simply had a very good sense of hearing, meaning their little phonetic exercises hadn't disrupted the peace at all.

As it was, she simply held his gaze and stepped in.

Both of them retreated onto the cot.

The Agori laughed a little, lips shifting onto her other cheek: "No need to be so scared," she drawled, "I've been asked to coach you out of your talking problem. I'm plenty qualified - I've been through it myself, if you'd believe that."

Her eyes moved onto the second being; she tilted her head strangely, in a way reminiscent of how a bird or large feline would do so.

"You are Pohatu?" the inflection of her question was curious, too.

The former Toa nodded.

She grinned a little wider, almost fondly: "Onewa's little one."

The sudden way his face dropped into a frown and darkened in the span of an instant at the mere mention of the Turaga seemed to startle her briefly.

Kopaka squeezed his brother's arm in a gentle grip; the Toa of Stone eased his shoulders down.

He hadn't even realized he'd clammed up.

Fingers danced in front of his face, making him blink. The Agori looked back at him with her eyebrows arched upwards in a quiet inquiry to test how responsive he was: when his face scrunged up at her as it backed away, mood evidently still fairly sour, she decided it'd be better not to pry nor test him too much and turned her attention to the much calmer fellow at his side - who also instantly frowned but exhaled a harsh resigned sigh through his nose all the same.

Fine, his entire body seemed to say as it sagged into a hunch and his head angled itself so that his glare could come off as powerful as possible: I'll do whatever this is going to be in his stead. I'll allow it. I won't bite your hand off. I am too nice for my own good.

She held back a laugh.

He glared harder.

"Alright, alright, I'll get to it!" his torturer snickered. Her finger tapped beneath his chin twice, annoying him even further: "Well then, open up a moment."

Kopaka pulled back his lips, treating her to a mirthless grin.

Curiously, her own mouth twitched slightly for a moment as though imitating him while she observed his teeth up close.

"Open those up too," she ordered then.

He parted them imperceptibly.

"Wider."

He added a millimeter.

"You're a real funny one, aren't you."

A wet growl answered her.

Pohatu huffed the beginning of a laugh.

"Wider." she insisted.

This time, the Toa of Ice complied properly. Not that it felt comfortable, keeping his jaw like this and having the disgustingly wet inside of his mouth looked at by a complete stranger who seemed a bit more than morbidly curious about his anatomy.

A thought caused his muscles to clench: who even was this? Who had let her know about their struggle to talk? Was she a healer at all?

He focused on her body, her clothes. All seemed within the norm.

Something turned in his gut from the discomfort of his uncertainty, and he clacked his mouth shut to end this surreal experience before it caused anything else inside him to twist so grossly.

Her eyes twitched, displeased, but she did not ask him to open it again for her to continue her examination.

Instead, the Jungle Agori stared into his pupils with his own face.

Kopaka wasn't sure he could have described how the change had looked as it happened.

The movement of the skin had been reminiscent of blooming, of wilting, a shift both smooth and rough of pieces that should have seemed seamless but had been slow enough that if he replayed the image in his mind he could pinpoint each single scale and petal and patch and cell turning against its peers to shift its place and shape until it had all joined with a spasm into a perfect reflection of his mutated visage, with its dark skin and straight hair and dark, piercing eyes sorrounded by a white void.

It lasted a moment - just enough time to see his mouth almost open.

Then a brown lightning shot in front of him and whatever the thing that had pretended to be an Agori was disappeared from his sight, launched straight onto the floor and almost across the room.

The scream in his throat was replaced by a strangled grunt as he held to the cot for dear life with one hand, Pohatu gripping him just as hard before he slipped onto the pavement from the momentum of his own fulminous kick.

A groan arose as they steadied each other - he almost missed it, between the booming sound of their frantic heartbeats.

"Who gave you the right to have legs like a Kikanalo?" the thing painfully slurred with Kopaka's voice as it cradled Kopaka's new head in Kopaka's new arms, pulling Kopaka's new legs closer to Kopaka's new chest as though that could have somehow lessened the hellish pain thrumming across Kopaka's temple.

Kopaka - the real one, sitting on the bed, holding his brother with one hand before he fell off, shaking harder than he ever had before - looked at it and felt very, very faint.

Pohatu disentangled himself from his brother in a furious hurry without ever taking his eyes off of his copy: it scrambled back with newfound terror as it turned just enough to catch a glimpse of the Toa of Stone starting to stumble closer filled with a protective instinct that could have made the second kick he was struggling to rear back blow up a mountain.

Another shifting took place, blooming across the shrinking body in stretches of skin and fur and spikes before turning to a green metallic sheen, its head elongating and eye sockets thinning.

Its segmented hands shot forward to stop him, Rahkshi-like face terrified: "Hey, hey! Hold it now! Hold it, I said!" it half shouted at him.

Was that... Iruini?

The shock of seeing and hearing the Toa Haga still in this misshapen form was enough to spare it from another hit, as Pohatu remained stunned for long enough that the weight placed almost solely on his still recovering leg caused it to cave in and he nearly fell.

The thing exhaled shakily, placing Iruini's palm on Iruini's jittering heartlight: "Thank Mata Nui, or whoever it is you people thank," it muttered, "Another one of those and I'd be little more than scrap metal... If it even left anything that wouldn't need to be scraped off a wall - weren't Toa supposed to have a code or something like that? No killing allowed? What was that about?"

Both Toa stared at it for a moment.

Both then vehemently pointed at Kopaka's face, wearing expressions of varying degrees of more than justified rage, and replied with surprisingly similar disarticulated hisses meant to convey the same identical message.

Iruini's eyes rolled up in annoyance as the thing began to pull the already once again molting body up: "Oh, don't come telling me you've never heard of a krahka!"

Its limbs elongated as it stood, relaxing itself into its full new height while its back unfurled from its now noticeably less cramped anatomy as it coated itself in shining black armor befitting of a Toa of Earth; its face morphed into the bulkier shape of a Kanohi, a Great one, it seemed - one of the Matoran of the Voya Nui resistance had one like that, Garan.

It stretched at its leisure, as if there had been nobody else present: its joints popped into place with such natural carelessness that one might have assumed it had lived in that body all its life.

A roll of its neck evidently hit a sore spot and made it sigh in satisfaction. Finally, it turned its now green eyes back to them.

"They're quite extraordinary Rahi, capable of changing their body into that of any other being after just seeing a specimen once - though some more internal details still can't be replicated fully, since those are bit harder to catch a glimpse of," it said with the same exact voice as Turaga Whenua, though it was much too calm - lacking the excited scholarly enthusiasm that Nuju had once recalled as Matoro translated his first venture through the Archives. "Incredibly smart, too - they don't use something you could call 'speech' in the wild, but they can become almost impeccably fluent speakers in very little time by just imitating a few sentences!"

With an overly casual movement, Toa Whenua's (oddly soft despite appearing robotic) arm swooped Pohatu off his barely stable feet and placed him right down on his cot, next to his equally baffled brother.

"Sadly there's only one of them left nowadays, a female - though she can take pride in being the pinnacle of her species, at least. Not many beings could trick us as brilliantly as she did. We respected her wits so much that we couldn't even fathom removing her from her den in the Archives," the beast continued, puffing the shining black chest out in pride as she sang her own praises through the Turaga's voice. She eyed the speechless Toa playfully and shifted Whenua's mouth in a smile: "You were listening during that part, weren't you?"

They stared at her in complete silence.

If their eyes had been open any wider, the bulbs would have fallen out of their sockets.

Sort of a lackluster reaction, she noted. Better than the kick to the head, which she would have gladly done without (Onewa could have had the courtesy of warning her about the little insignificant detail of his cub coming equipped with the strongest legs in the entire Great Spirit Robot), but still.

She would have expected something more out of finding out one has been graciously visited by a legendary beast.

"Is it still because I turned into you?" she asked.

It took Kopaka approximately zero seconds to go right back to trying to glare a hole into her pupils.

She sighed loudly, sagging sideways in the same way a large snake or perhaps a horse with excessively flexible legs might - which was a very, very weird motion to see Whenua's body as a Toa enact: "There is just no pleasing your lot, is there... Who should I have turned to, then? Would your brother have been better?"

Without waiting for an answer, her armor kept its color as it was wrecked by a wave: the Great Ruru morphed into a Pakari fit for hovering across swamps, and the dark green eyes turned paler.

"Is this more to your liking?" Onua's voice asked; before they could react her height had already dropped dramatically much like a bucket of water being thrown to the ground, and suddenly Nokama was looking up at them: "Or maybe this? Oh - urgh, no, hold it, this one is not right for me-"

The next second, a Toa of Water was towering over them, hands testing her translucent Great Rau as she sighed in relief, speaking still with the Turaga's voice: "Alright, this is much more familiar."

Pohatu gave a disarticulated warble.

"What? I knew her better like this. I still can't believe they've changed so much - it feels so unnatural. They've all gotten so... Small."

He just repeated the sound, putting his hands forward.

She eyed him with a blank gaze as she took a moment to decypher his posture; her sockets widened lightly at last: "Ah," she bleated, "Stop the changing. Is it bothering you?"

He nodded, holding his head in a tight clamp.

That made her huff and roll her eyes: "Don't be so dramatic now! A little shapeshifting never fried anybody."

A tongue peeked out at her.

Disgustingly, she replied by blowing a raspberry of her own back at him - making some kind of plaqued tendril snake through the grates of the mask, which in turn caused both organic Toa to shudder and recoil at the unnatural sight. She chuckled at their discomfort; her armor ruffled like pleased feathers.

At last Krahka waved a hand to recompose herself: "Alright, alright, I'll agree I've had my fun. I really am here to help you two, after all. But I will need to shift again. I can't really show you how the inside of your mouths work like this, can I?"

Pohatu whined.

Kopaka bit his lip and shifted uneasily.

"Not your face, got it," the Rahi interjected before he could growl at her. He still interrupted the blooming of her skin into Pohatu's with a strangled panicked grunt, making her almost stumble. "What - not his either?"

He shook his head. The clenched hunch of his shoulders told her of a primordial type of fear.

"Alright. Neither of you. The one I came in with, is that fine?"

When they nodded, she shook off the protodermis exoskeleton to cover her limbs in thin plumes and fabric-like folds: she pulled her lips up to stretch them, baring her teeth without animosity.

It wasn't too hard to mash different anatomies together, she'd done it plenty of times - but she was very glad that at least the body of an Agori and that of whatever the two had been turned into shared nearly identical oral cavities.

Made the whole thing much simpler.

Her cheek and jaw paled until one could see right through them as she mused softly to herself: which word would be better suited to be the first for a pair of little Toa to learn?

Hm. A little fond loopsided smirk tugged her wide mouth across one side of her face.

That would have done just fine.

"Look closely now, little ones," she chirped, "And repeat after me."

Her long finger traced the line of her jaw as she turned to show them her profile; they watched intently the outline of her tongue move all the way up and forward, until the tip touched the space right between her palate and the back of her upper incisor teeth, lingering there until she clicked it open into a small, instantaneous plosive sound: To - a.

[defira85]

If Elissa were in SWTOR, who would she be?

OHHHH. Oh. Hmmm. That's a really good question.

I feel like the obvious answer given her sense of rebellion and feelings of inadequacy and the question about whether the vaguely supernatural inclinations of the Grey Wardens would count as a reflection of Force powers, I think the answer is this:

She is the daughter of a political dynasty, possibly Alderaanian, possibly Corellian, very powerful, very established within the Republic. Being a Senator is essentially an inherited position at this point in time, you know the sort. I specify Alderaan or Corellia in particular because it needs to be somewhere that the Empire hit hard and fast, causing the death of her family and the initial trauma at the outset like the Cousland origin

A Jedi a la Duncan is present to help save her, notices her latent Force abilities which were either too weak to warrant formal training as a child or her family paid to have the Jedi look the other way. Things are dire, Jedi numbers are in freefall with the ongoing war, she gets plucked out of the ruins of home and told "congratulations you're a Jedi now, go kill people for the Republic"

Which is to say I think she'd be the Jedi Knight storyline, dark-side aligned, but the DS JK is a bit too sassy and snarky for her in game so it'd be with caveats. It even makes sense that you get given a powerful assistant/padawan immediately in Kira, because that mirrors how Elissa had Alistair and Leliana propping her up or outright doing shit for her when she mentally retreated

[ladyriot]

A couple of sequential snippets from a rizzles one-shot set directly after Paddy Doyle abducts Maura. I was playing with an autistic reading of Maura (again), using changeling mythology and Anne of Green Gables to define her self-perception...

~~

"I'm sorry I can't take you back," Doyle says. "But you knew that. Here, for a cab."

Maura doesn't have the wherewithal to say she doesn't want his money. He’s careful with her, aware of her aversion to his touch as he places the bills in her hand without touching her. She sweats against them, hates the way the paper sticks to her palm. She wonders if it's dirty money. As dirty as she feels.

Paddy leaves with a final apology to her, and a plea for her to be safe. But how is she supposed to do that in a dark warehouse she doesn't even know the location of?

She wanders out, lost in thought as she orients herself with street signs, finds herself not too far from BCU. He had known she’d gone to school there, known everything about her milestones, her achievements, from a distance. It didn’t make sense for a criminal of Patrick Doyle’s recognizability to have clandestine meetings just a few blocks from a busy campus, but maybe he'd wanted her to know the area, to be able to navigate it instead of just feeling disoriented and scared, even if it came at risk to himself.

Just like he loved Colin, he seemed to love her too.

But what was the worth of the love of a killer?

~~

Maura pushes away Jane's second attempt at comforting her with touch, Jane raising her hands in deference. She tries not to think how she'd done the same to Doyle, how she was treating her best friend who would do anything for her like a killer. She pushes her own hands back through her hair, revealing a sheen of sweat along her hairline.

Maura shakes her head again.

"Maura, you're scaring me," Jane says. "I don't know how to help you."

"Could you just hug me for a minute? Tightly, not..."

Jane puts her arms around the woman and squeezes until she sighs and relaxes and her breaths come out even and deep.

"Honey, I got you. You know that, right?"

Maura nods shakily.

Maura won't look at her once she's pulled away, wiping tears off her face.

"Maura?"

"Can I use your shower?"

"Yeah," Jane says, keeping her voice soft, learning how to treat her in this delicate moment. "Yeah, help yourself to whatever. Pyjamas in the top drawer, okay?"

Maura goes. And she takes a long time, beating herself up for letting it slip, letting her see, letting her touch her in the throes. She's going to lose her. She takes a hot shower so she can get it all off her skin, but Jane's soap feels wrong and her fingernails scrape at the bar soap residue on her skin until she's left marks on her skin, little red roadmaps to her state of mind.

When she comes out, she roots through Jane's drawer for the clothes that feel softest and least likely to make her want to jump out of her skin.

She goes into the living room, turning a self-pitiful glance to Jane looking worried on the couch.

"I think I'm gonna go," Maura says. "I'm sorry."

~~

Maura wakes to an empty bed and a feeling of dread. She'd kept it for as long as she could from Jane but it'd eventually come out. She always knew that. But her expectations hadn't met her reality and it's unsettling. She has no script for this, doesn't know what you do when someone stays, no matter how sad that sounds.

Men would walk out on her, call her things like unreasonable, hysterical, and needy. She'd retreat and they'd call her frigid, hot and cold, instead. There was no winning. So she'd think of changelings, drowned, set on fire, beaten, until they could get that alien thing out and the real child back. And she knows there's some metaphor of submission in there, of repressing herself so that she could be something worthy of love. But Jane had looked at her in all her changeling glory and loved her still. Loved her well.

Maura gets up and wipes the sleep from her eyes, tries not to listen to the swooping of her stomach. She enters the kitchen to find Jane at her island with her laptop open.

"I was just starting to get worried. You never sleep that late," Jane says. "Is it something that happens after?"

Maura nods dumbly.

"I-uh," Maura stumbles. "Thank you for last night. I don't really know what to say."

"Don't gotta say anything."

"Jane, I…"

"If you apologize again, I might throttle you."

Maura laughs, but her eyes hold her questions.

"Am I allowed to respond to that thing you said last night now?"

"Only if I'd like the answer," Maura says softly. "Or else we should just have breakfast and try to forget that I ever said that at all."

"I'm so in love with you," Jane says. "So in love with you that I'd let a mobster kill to protect you and wouldn't even blink an eye. No part of you undoes that."

Maura tears up, "Jane."

"I…" Jane says. "Different reasons, but I've never had a good thing that lasts either. So, if we uh do this, I think I really need you to be patient with me."

~~

NOTE

This one had notes!

Oh, I'm going to be so annoying about Anne of Green Gables in Maura-centric fics. I wrote a post about why I'm so obsessed with this canonically being Maura's favourite book here. I also reference a (short, free-to-read) study suggesting folkloric evidence of autism may be found in changeling lore here. And chapter 3 of this book locates similarities between changeling folklore and adoption: Perils of Protection: Shipwrecks, Orphans, and Children's Rights by Susan Honeyman.

[snow-system-wol]

Living Memory -- conversations had and conversations put off 'til later. (~1.3k)

(lategame DT spoilers)

Ao3

S'ria was glad that G'raha was here with him, an anchor in this unreal place.

(As if he could've kept G'raha away.)

Everyone here was… dead-but-alive-but-dead. He didn't know how to process it, really, looking at all these people lining the canals and cafes around him. The Endless were not quite real, not in a way that the living were meant to interact with. It wasn't just the food, which had texture but was bereft of taste. It was the same for the people to – present, tangible, but somehow lacking in… substance. They were not warm the way a living thing was, and S'ria could not discern any person’s scent near him aside from G'raha's.

But here was G'raha at his side, very definitively alive in every sense. It helped, with the disorientation of it all. 

If nothing else, their memories and feelings were still quite real. Upon hearing that story from one of the Endless, a hope to finally propose to a lover lost-then-found while it was possible now – G'raha and S'ria only briefly met eyes before easily agreeing to go help find the missing ring. 

It was a trifling matter, really, a fraction of a bell before the ring was in S'ria's hand.

They walked back to their new companion, presenting the ring and lifting his spirits skyward, even as S'ria's own heart sunk with guilt.

S'ria wanted to be purely happy for him. It was difficult. The man didn't seem to have any concerns over whether the proposal would be refused, at the very least. He seemed so eager, intending to rush off shortly to find her.

…S'ria just hoped that there'd be enough time for that proposal before the shutdown killed both of them.

(No, not killed – they already died, he mustn't forget that) 

It stung, though, to know that no wedding would ever come for those two. 

He smiled knowingly at S'ria and G'raha before he left – looking at their hands and congratulating them on their own miraculous reunion in this living memory. S'ria traced the band of his own ring. It didn't have the same meaning, hadn't been romantic – it'd be desperate and pragmatic and protective, and S'ria had no qualms with any of that. (Though, there was a sort of romance to that all the same.)

Still, he wondered… would they regret it, if they never chose to make those shared rings official?

S'ria looked at the receding back of the excited lover, already leaving at a brisk jog, and cringed. Now was… not the time. If anything, it left a bitter taste in his mouth to consider that within the context of the conversation they'd both just had. 

S'ria wondered if G'raha had experienced any of those same thoughts just now. Knowing him, he probably had as well. But they both knew it was not a topic for this day.

Maybe later.

Maybe someday.

 

----------

 

Somehow the gondola ride was more isolated than their already quiet journey through the streets. The sounds of the people on the shores seemed to fade, in favor of light splashing sounds, water lapping at the sides of the boat.

It seemed heavy and sturdy enough to respond fairly little to the shifts of weight – which was good, considering S'ria had joined G'raha on his bench. The opportunity to lean comfortably against G'raha was not one that he'd casually pass on.

It was not lost on S'ria that this could be romantic in another circumstance, but this one was… a bit too bleak for that. He still tried to take in the experience, lest he regret it later.

It hurt, the way this felt like murder. It didn't help that the inhabitants had no idea what was about to become of them. And it also didn't help watching Erenville's retreating back as he quickly had made his way in a direction no one else was going. 

S'ria couldn't imagine what he must be feeling. Could his mother have not handled the matter of her deletion a bit more… gently, while Erenville was still processing the fact that she was dead in the first place?

He supposed it wasn't his place to judge, but he cared more for the feelings of a companion than of someone recently met – so if Erenville was needlessly troubled, they'd rather support him. 

Not to the extent that they'd shy away from what needed to be done, but – gods, Menphina simply wished for it to leave as few wounds as possible. 

“How are you faring? Ria?”

G'raha's voice snapped S'ria out of his moment of rumination. 

“I'm sure there's nothing that you can't guess. This just… sucks.”

G'raha sighed. “Yes, ‘tis a lot to process, if nothing else. And yet, we have little time to do so.” He paused. “I wonder… how I would fare with such a task, if it were my people that had been resurrected here.”

There was a briefly distant look when S'ria shifted to glance at him, a very Exarch expression. 

(It was a fair point. What if it were S'ria's tribe, his own mother? Could he go through with this?)

(That wasn't the same – there were no memories in his possession to even relive.)

“Raha… is it a bad response to just say that it isn't your people?” S'ria bit his lip, thinking. “Or, how about this. The Tower still held the potential for cloning – would you have ever considered making copies of the Crystarium citizens’ bodies, in case they died? Maybe with enough experimentation, their memories could be stored in blood too.”

G'raha looked at him in horror. “Why would I have ever focused on such a thing?”

“You wouldn't have.” S'ria shrugged helplessly. “I think the point I'm trying to make is that you were more focused on saving those that lived rather than trying to resurrect the dead. So you would never have done something like all this in the first place, not with its cost.”

G'raha did not immediately respond, but he leaned into S'ria rather than away. He spoke, pain coloring his voice. “There was a bit of an exception to that, with some timeline manipulation…”

“That… that isn't the same as this, you were not damning entire Reflections. You did the best you could, to save multiple worlds.”

“And if I was just as focused on saving one that'd already been lost to me as I was on saving the world?”

“A bit of selfishness doesn't change the good of what you did, in my eyes.”

“I… thank you.” G'raha sighed. “Loss is a messy thing, is it not?” He paused, fingers tapping on the bench. “...I did not actually save you, not really.”

“Hm?” If G'raha hadn't suddenly tucked his head under S'ria's chin, S'ria would've drawn back to look at him. Perhaps that was… intentional, though, that barrier to close inspection. 

“The you that was lost – perhaps the first you that I ever met – is still dead. I have not changed that by making an alternate version of events where you live.”

S'ria breathed out slowly, trying not to jostle him. “Maybe not. But you've saved my life more than once. That has to count for something.”

G'raha nodded, faintly. “Maybe it does. I had… imagined, during those days of frantic survival… about if I had been there at the moment of your death. The fantasy of being able to heroically stop it, to personally save you.” He paused. “I… I suppose I was rather given an opportunity to prove that I was capable of keeping you alive, even if I was terrified the whole time.”

S'ria wrapped an arm around him, an old twinge of guilt in his chest. He'd not meant to come so very close to death, even if Zenos had never been his fault. “Yes. I was saved, you didn't let me die there.”

They both fell silent once again – not uncomfortably so, though the mood was undeniably melancholic.

S'ria was not bothered by that. He wasn't sure he'd feel comfortable forgetting the gravity of this place for more than a few moments anyway. True peace and relaxation could come when this was all over.

And even so, there was a hint of… closure, to that conversation.

[the-price-of-love]

i saw hadestown on broadway with my sister today and seeing as i haven't seen a live musical in... years (?) i really enjoyed the experience and wanted to document it into the void for future reference. tagging #hadestown not to throw this into the waters of the official tag but just for my own organizational purposes. anyways, rambles below the cut:

so first of all i didn't realize JORDAN FISHER (!) was going to be my orpheus (clearly i'm very new to this space hi) so my jaw did drop when i saw him on stage. and i did point him out and whisper "that's jordan fisher from MOVIES" to my sister when she asked who he was (she's younger). i also LOVED maia reficco as eurydice (she's so pretty and talented and does anyone else think she looks kind of like rachel zegler? especially in that costume/hairstyle?? just me???). i was sat up on the mezzanine because i thought it'd be better to see the whole stage but honestly the stage was pretty small so i regret not buying tickets down in the orchestra to see the actors' faces better. my favorite staging/lighting moment was during wait for me (which is SUCH a tune 10/10) when the hanging lights start swinging around in a circle and i was just. enchanted and entranced. generally though i loved so many of the lighting decisions in this show (especially when they played with the intensity, like when persephone asks why it's so bright down in hell and the stage lights go to a gazillion watts. chef's kiss, gorgeous, no notes, says the amateur fan who wouldn't be able to have notes anyway). also the moment when eurydice follows hades up the stairs to sign the contract and persephone puts her hand on her heart and looks after her sadly... ouch! when jordan fisher as orpheus turned around at the end (heartbreaking) my sister audibly gasped, and then when eurydice sank down into the floor i did start crying in the dark.

more general musical theatre-y thoughts/appreciation section: i had a LOT of fun sneaking glances at background actors who weren't the main focus of a scene just to see what they were up to (eg at the start when hades and persephone are having tea together silently despite the main action going on downstairs; also when orpheus and eurydice are in their lover era lying down hugging and kissing while singing/dancing occurs behind them. and towards the end orpheus/eurydice hug in the darkness for a whole song and i was so impressed at how still they were able to keep). and also just a general live show note: i LOVE how in plays/musicals they're able to make the entire story happen on just. one stage + one set of stairs + that upper balcony area. (i watched a bootleg of the west end production of next to normal recently and they had that same kind of stage set-up so i assume it's fairly standard for musicals?) but like—and this is especially true for relatively smaller stages—it just strikes me as such a fun creative challenge, and i'm always so impressed at how productions choose to utilize the limited stage space in new and interesting ways (like in hadestown the part in the stage that rotated as they walked? and the center circle that went up and down? the moment after the intermission when the steps on the side retreated and the stage just seemed to *expand*? SO fun. love love love.)

and finally i didn't know too much about this show going in so i didn't expect the whole worker's rights/immigration/capitalism subtext but i'd be sooo keen on reading analytical essays dissecting the way hadestown engages with and navigates these topics & themes. like i keep thinking about a version hadestown with illegal immigrants who are forced into unfair contracts w no legal protections... idk maybe there's something there? the parallels? i just think the same story and songs could be transplanted into so many different real-world settings and it'd be so interesting to see the implications play out!

also i can sense this is a very common opinion but i'll be so brave and say it again: queer hadestown would go soooo hard. when is somebody going to make that happen.

okay that's all! xx