#somehow i feel like knowing that orpheus existed

[panaceatthedisco]

Still thinking about how Edwin would feel if he knew that Orpheus and Eurydice weren't just a story.

Like, Orpheus was a real man who went to the Underworld to save the love of his life; he walked down the same stairs as Charles.

Edwin was standing were Eurydice was when he pulled Charles to face him

[gxyhxrror]

Orpheus and Eurydice is so…like how does one not feel like Orpheus w everything they love…like ok if I keep going n know ur there maybe it’ll be fine, except if I actually look back at u & try to be *with* you…it’ll be lost

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Kanej - Orpheus & Eurydice AU

Hi lovelies, this is the third time trying to upload this so hopefully it works this time (and sorry to everyone who got tagged in posts that didn’t work properly and/or didn’t exist by the time you saw the notification), I am so incredibly excited to tell you that the first two chapters of my new Kanej fic “Somehow, Through the Storm” will be released on tumblr and AO3 THIS MONDAY (16th Sept)

This is a Hadestown-inspired take on an Orpheus and Eurydice reimagining, casting Kaz and Inej as our main characters. It will be a kanej centric fic but feature all of the crows, as well as aspects of wesper and helnik relationships, set in an alternate version of the Grishaverse with an adapted magic system. I’m so excited and I may or may not have gone a teensy bit overboard so with that in mind and with three days to go, please enjoy this trailer I made for the story!!

All songs are from the Broadway cast studio recording of Hadestown and the medley was made by me :)

Tagging everyone who has expressed interest but please don’t feel pressured:

@lunarthecorvus @marielaure @multi-fandom-bi @igotthisaccountunderduress @thelibraryofalexandriastillburns @devoted-people-hater @spraypaintstainonawhitewall

If anyone would like to be tagged when I post the chapters please let me know, and for people who are tagged in this I will not automatically assume that you want to be tagged again so if you’re still interested let me know I don’t want to be annoying and tag you in stuff you’re not interested in

[questing-wulfstan]

Listen, I can't blame y'all when His Excellence Neil Gaiman hisself compared it to Dream walking out on his date with Hob to hit it off with Shaxberd upon learning about Eleanor and Robyn, but I feel like fixating on this interpretation only of the scene is a disservice to Morpheus' overall characterisation over the season.

Have you noticed how Hob calls "his friend" over to his table and that doesn't phase Morpheus at all then Dream doesn't even ask him whether he still wants to live before putting an end to their meeting ? It's unexpected from someone otherwise so strict and set on protocols ー even when he storms out in 1889, he already had Hob's answer to that question. Yet he leaves 1589 Hob without having formally asked the one question that justifies their centennial meetings.

That is because Dream knows, oh he knows what Hob's Heaven is like. He's had a wife and a son of his own once, and he knew what eternity by their side would be like, once. And he knows Hob has everything but Death on his mind then. He also knows ー or so he thinks ー what Hob's answer will be the next century. For Hob Gadling alone was granted immortality, not Eleanor, nor Robyn. And Morpheus knows what outliving one's son is like.

Morpheus' work in this tavern of the White Horse is done, but he's also taken back to the most traumatic event of his existence, one he won't recover from in two millennia and he can't look Hob in the eyes anymore, he needs a distraction, something, anything but having to confront his revenant grief. And there's that playwright loudly willing to strike a bargain with higher entities for the ability to create timeless dreams for humanity and there's his distraction, there's an escape ...

Comes 1689, Morpheus is certain of the outcome of this meeting. Sure, it will have taken the bugger three time the hundred years Dream had predicted Death, but no matter because it is true : nobody can bear an endless existence.

Then Morpheus learns about not only the expected death of Hob's son, but that it happened much earlier than it should have, devoid of a fulfilling lifetime for Robyn and of psychological preparation for Hob. Scythed in the prime of life, much like Orpheus. And within a close time frame to his wife's departure, too. Hob is holding up a mirror to Morpheus' own misery and the King of Dreams finds himself on the verge of tears. He is no longer smug as he offers Hob what he thinks of as an eventual relief.

Yet ... Hob doesn't take it. Somehow, somewhere, Hob Gadling finds it in himself to resist the tragedy of his life, to chose tomorrow, to decide that whatever the future holds, it is worth being there to see it.

And that is really when something kindles within Morpheus. No longer mere curiosity but a devouring fascination for Hob Gadling, his hopefulness and his resilience. He latches onto that man who shares his misery yet seem to have overcome it, or anyhow accommodated himself to it.

And when they meet again in 1789, and fortune has smiled upon Hob Gadling once again, Morpheus is much more open, much more attentive, much more interested. Who knows if he might not have given Hob his name even, hadn't lady Johanna Constantine interrupted him ?

By all means, Morpheus doesn't process their blooming bond. He's the anthropomorphic incarnation of the human or really, the living unconscious : there are numerous things passing through his mind at all time that he does not process. To him, he's merely monitoring the puzzling glitch that is Robert Gadling's will to live still, and waiting for him to eventually, inevitably renounce his immortality.

So when another century has passed and Hob asserts that their meetings are unnecessary for he won't ever renounce being alive but proposes his friendship, Morpheus is left reeling, faced with how much he has in common with this 'mortal' and his envy for Hob's resilience and capacity to forge ahead.

Naturally he takes flight and makes for an escape, lest he finds himself ensnared by his own grief ...

[mumms-the-word]

Illithid Souls - Part 2

The Case Studies: Tav/Durge and Orpheus

In Part 1, I went over some of the basics of what a soul normally is, where souls go after death, and whether mind flayers have souls. I ultimately ended up saying that most humanoids have apostolic souls (souls that deities recognize as being capable of divine worship), while mind flayers have some other kind of soul, one that isn't recognizable by deities or devils. This is why Jergal and Mystra and so on think that illithid don’t have souls. When a humanoid with an apostolic soul turns into a mind flayer, their soul is either ejected and moves on to the Fugue Plane, or their soul is transformed into a non-apostolic soul (depending on what you want to believe).

But the problem is, that's normal lore, and BG3 has made things a little strange by imbuing all the tadpoles that infect our characters with Netherese magic. And that, friends, makes the BG3 mind flayers different.

This post is going to look at some interesting context from the game for the Emperor, Tav/Durge and Orpheus. (It got pretty long so I'm moving Karlach and Gale to a third post.) We're going to figure out whether the rules about mind flayers and souls change now that there's Netherese magic involved. The ultimate answer is yes, but how? And is it consistent?

(Spoiler: it isn't, but you can use this lore to come up with your own theories and ideas)

Let's take another deep dive! Buckle up, and don't worry, I have a short summary at the bottom.

The Case of the Emperor

I'm actually not going to linger too long on the Emperor because for many reasons he breaks the lore. If he's Balduran and a mind flayer, he shouldn't have lived as long as he says he's lived. Not only that, his memory is allegedly flawless when the lore states he shouldn't remember any of his previous life (there are other inconsistencies too, but that's a different post). However, I do want to touch on a couple of things.

The Emperor both is and isn't our baseline for how a mind flayer normally exists. He should be a normal lore-accurate mind flayer (though a rogue one), because he wasn't infected with a Netherese-touched tadpole. But he's a Special Mind Flayer instead, for reasons we don't entirely understand (again, he generally breaks the lore). Perhaps this is because of his brush with Gortash and the other Chosen of the Dead Three, or perhaps he just somehow has a strong enough personality that when he broke free of an elder brain's compulsion a lot of his memories came back to him. Who knows?

But regardless, a few conversations with him reinforce the idea that mind flayers typically aren't completely soulless. At the very least, they still contain memories (he has his memories of his time as Balduran), intelligence (he's a schemer, that's for sure), and personality/emotions:

Emperor: You think that mind flayers are soulless husks who feel nothing. Belynne thought the same at first. You are wrong. Feeling is vital to the pursuit of anyone's goals. Even a mind flayer's. Like you, mind flayers know fear. Like you, we crave recognition. But unlike you, unlike the others of my kind, I am no slave to either. My end is and has always been freedom.

We can quibble about whether or not he's manipulating the player here, but his words are generally true. As discussed in part 1, mind flayers are not soulless husks. When they're enthralled, they might be more devoid of independent thinking, but they have emotions/feelings and can create memories. They just might have a smaller range of emotion than humanoids do (thus his reference to "not being a slave" to fear or desire) and their memories might not be entirely their own (more on that with Karlach in part 3).

Regardless, the Emperor is our leading authority for what it's like to be a mind flayer, so we're sort of forced to trust him when we ask him to explain what full ceremorphosis is about to do to us, especially because its his Supreme Tadpole that is about to change us.

Player: What would happen to me? Emperor: You would be altered in mind, body, and soul beyond all recognition.

So this is interesting. Altered in mind and body, that's a given. Altered in soul, though...what does that mean?

Remember in Part 1 where I offered two theories about what happens to the original soul of someone undergoing ceremorphosis? Theory 1: they just die and the soul moves on to the Fugue Plane, and the mind flayer gets a new illithid soul from...somewhere. Theory 2: The soul transforms and remains tethered to the mind flayer body, different than it was before (potentially unrecognizable as the original soul, but some elements of the original may remain).

The Emperor's words suggest more of theory 2 here. But is that, in fact, what happens when we become illithid? Well...let's find out.

The Case of Tav and Durge (or most Origin runs)

When you do turn into a mind flayer, the narrative typically focuses on how powerful you feel. Your mind and body feel as though they are one and you are also desperately hungry. There isn't much in the Narrator's dialogue or your dialogue with your friends to suggest that your soul has been completely obliterated, though.

In fact, there's an interesting moment that happens if you turn into a mind flayer without the Emperor there and go up to Orpheus still in his cage. The way I accomplished this was to ask to change into a mind flayer so the Emperor would give me the Supreme Tadpole, then I said I would change later, then stopped the Emperor from consuming Orpheus so he would leave. Then I used the Supreme Tadpole to turn into a mind flayer and went to examine Orpheus.

Narrator: *His eyes are unseeing, his voice silenced. But even with his mind caged, you can feel his power. You can almost taste the fluid beneath his scalp, cushioning that sweet, dense brain, and the power within it. You are hungry.* Lae'zel: I see that look, I know that look. Don't you dare. Player: [Wisdom Check] Cling to your former nature. Quash your hunger. This is not who you are. Narrator: *Your mind and body whine with disappointment. But your soul lets out a gentle thrum of relief.*

I find this fascinating for a couple of reasons. One, the check I chose (there are two, the second is a strength check) meant reaching out to a "former" nature and reminding myself (or my Tav's self) that this is not who she is. When I succeeded, my Tav's mind and body protested, but her soul was filled with relief.

So she has a soul! And it seems to be her own soul, but perhaps transformed. So this sort of supports theory 2, that perhaps when humanoids turn into mind flayers, their soul is altered. This could also just be a quirk specific to those infected with a Netherese tadpole, or even further, someone who transformed using the Emperor's Supreme Tadpole.

Because here's the thing. When Tav/Durge, Orpheus, Companion!Karlach, or any Origin character transforms into a mind flayer using the Supreme Tadpole, they become a special mind flayer. This is mostly due to the Netherese magic, which adds some weird and undefined changes to the whole mind flayer thing. I'm going to use "I guess it's the Netherese magic/Supreme Tadpole" as a scapegoat this entire post because I don't know what else to point to to explain how these guys are just Different Than Your Average Mind Flayer, so be prepared for that. But at the very least, we know something's different.

In fact the Narrator literally says you're probably different than the average mind flayer after you defeat the Netherbrain!

Narrator: *You are a mind flayer, the very thing you sought to eradicate. Whatever self you still possess is quickly ebbing away. Your friends and enemies alike are ripe for manipulation, and if not manipulation, then consumption. Soon you will be able to trust yourself at all. You will be a monstrosity beyond redemption. Or not. Perhaps you are unique among illithid-kind. Perhaps you will retain enough of who you are to resist your nature. A rogue mind flayer. Like the Emperor. The risk is certainly yours to take - will you?*

Unlike normal mind flayers who lose most of their memories (and allegedly most of their personality/former selves) almost immediately after transforming, it takes Tav/Durge/most Origins longer to lose that sense of self, if indeed they lose it at all. The Narrator suggests we might be losing parts of ourselves, but there's a chance we're unique and might retain our sense of selves.

We do see glimpses of us retaining our personalities in the epilogue of course, but what is more interesting is if you decide to imprison yourself post-ceremorphosis. Withers will visit you in prison for a final conversation. (This conversation shifts a little if you're a Durge, but here is the Tav conversation.)

Withers: Thou remainest in thy chains. A hero, sacrificed. I told thee once that an illithid hath no soul, and yet...something glimmerest about thee. Something is not lost. Dost thou feel it? The spark of the divine within thee? Or does thy hunger consume thee? Player: [Option 1] I'm still myself. I don't know if I belong here. Player: [Option 2] I feel the hunger. But I feel myself, too. I'm not sure which to trust. Player: [Option 3] Have you come to torment me with hypotheticals, old friend? Player: [Option 4] Does it matter? This is my life now.

If you go with option 4, you hear Withers ponderingly say, "Thy life...yes..." before moving on to say that fate isn't done with you yet, which is his response to all the other options as well.

But the more important thing is that even Jergal recognizes a "spark of the divine" within you. Your soul should either be cast off and already wandering the Fugue Plane (if going with theory 1) or so completely transformed that it's no longer an apostolic soul that Jergal would be able to recognize as a god. Yet Jergal recognizes the soul within your mind flayer body as being...well, partly apostolic.

Interesting!

We get a similar dialogue if you sacrifice yourself as a mind flayer, too, though this is fascinating because now it's Withers literally finding your soul (still shaped like a mind flayer, which is interesting) somewhere that is...very gray. There's a suggestion that this might be in the Fugue Plane, or in some limbo state where souls sometimes end up, but regardless, Withers, the soul-finder himself, was able to track down your lingering soul.

Withers: Thou flickerest in the dark - but with mine keen eye, I hath scryed thee. I told thee once that an illithid hath no soul, and yet thou seemest to have something of the spirit about thee. I cannot account for it. How delightful. Tell me, how doth it feel to roam about as thou art now, transformed? Player: [Option 1] Where am I? [mumm's note: he basically doesn't answer this question lol] Player: [Option 2] I still feel like myself. My memories, my feelings - all intact. Withers: No matter how many aeons I have roamed this world and beyond, I am ever-surprised by mysteries new and old.

Even Withers is surprised that the soul you have is something he not only recognizes as a soul, but as your soul. I love how amused and intrigued he sounds when he says "I cannot account for it. How delightful." He even smiles when he says it. He thinks you're super neat! And also a new phenomenon.

(As an aside, I wonder if you being mind-flayer-shaped but still recognizable as you is a hint that your soul did indeed transform to be illithid, but didn't fully transform into a non-apostolic soul like normal illithids would. Like, I wonder if your soul is now half-apostolic and just permanently mind-flayer-shaped. RIP. But this would explain why bringing you back via True Resurrection is kind of a nonviable option since you'd just come back as a mind flayer, and this is the ending where you took your own life to avoid being a mind flayer for forever, so I doubt you'd even want to come back if you couldn't come back to your original body. Things to ponder!)

Anyway, you having something that has glimpses, sparks, or hints of the divine/the spirit about you does tell us that as a mind flayer, your soul wasn't destroyed. It may have been transformed, but you're not as soulless as you thought you were going to be, and you're actually still pretty close to being who you were before the transformation.

Close, but not perfectly or exactly like you were before. You did transform, after all. But these changes become more obvious in other examples, such as with Karlach.

You having a partly-apostolic soul that retains all its memories and most of its original personality is obviously VERY unique and different to what most mind flayers experience. For example, if you turn yourself illithid and then free Orpheus (again, see the same steps above, but go a step farther and actually free him this time), then Orpheus will be utterly shocked that you're capable of independent thought.

Orpheus: What is this... A mind flayer in possession of its mental faculties? This is the stuff of fables. It is as if I am reliving the legend of Oryndoll. You are the illithid Urengol, rebelling against your own hivemind. And I am the noble githyanki Valraag who must now reconsider his position. An illithid capable of rebelling against the Netherbrain's instruction... Not only capable but willing... If your intentions are as righteous as they seem, this is an advantage I cannot overlook. An advantage that must be grasped, for our enemy is formidable indeed. Very well. I propose an alliance.

A couple of notes here: Oryndoll is/was a real mind flayer colony far, far below the surface in the southern regions of Faerûn (beneath the Shining Plains). Not only is it ancient, but the wealth of knowledge stored inside via illithid technology rivals and probably even surpasses that of Candlekeep's library. There's at least one book in the game that talks about a foolish drow adventurer searching for Oryndoll, only to end up a mind flayer, while another hints at Oryndoll's role in the history of the Duergar race. But these are the only mentions of Oryndoll in the game.

Oryndoll has a history in D&D lore, but there's no mention of Urengol and Valraag (that I could find). If this is a fable Orpheus knows, it's apparently so ancient that only he remembers it. But that itself is interesting, because it makes Urengol his closest reference to you having become a rogue, independently-thinking, and emotionally driven mind flayer. He can't think of any other examples, that's how unique you are.

The most important thing here is that Orpheus literally considers your independently thinking self as so baffling, so impossible, it should only exist in fables. That, I think, says a lot.

The next question is, does he think he would become just as unique?

The Case of Orpheus

We all know Orpheus can be convinced to turn into a mind flayer and sacrifice his soul for his people. I'm sure he genuinely does think he is sacrificing his soul, as there is no real precedent that he or anyone else seems to know of for a person who turns into a mind flayer and keeps their soul (or at least keeps their same memories, personality, and intelligence). But if he's surprised that he's kept all his memories after turning illithid, he doesn't really show it.

You can ask him about it, of course, after he's turned into a mind flayer and after you've defeated the Netherbrain. His response is kind of interesting.

Player: You're a mind flayer, but you're still you, aren't you? Orpheus: Yes. But for how long? My mind screams. It will never stop until it has slipped away from me entirely.

No one else seems to define their illithid experience this way. I'm curious if his mind screaming is referring to the hunger he feels, the same hunger he is actively trying to resist, but he doesn't elaborate on this. Regardless, he's certain that while he has retained his personality (and probably his soul) for now, it's not going to last.

This is why he asks for an honorable death after the defeat of the Netherbrain.

Player: You don't deserve to die. Orpheus: I will not be ghaik! I did what I did to save my people. [...] The rest is up to them. Someone else must rise within the ranks to lead the revolution against Vlaakith. Give me my freedom from this form, release my soul to the Astral Seas while I still have one to call my own.

Orpheus believes that he only has a temporary grasp on his soul or consciousness, which may or may not have transformed into a different kind of soul. Then again, if he thinks his soul is going to the Astral Seas, maybe it doesn't matter whether his soul was transformed from apostolic to non-apostolic. I'm not even sure if githyanki have apostolic souls at all, since they wouldn't really be interested in the deities that govern matters on the Material Plane. I mean, for a long time Lae'zel wants her soul to be eaten by Vlaakith (a literal lich queen who eats souls) via "ascension" so...

I also have no idea if his soul, once released to the Astral Seas, would be mind-flayer-shaped. I guess that's the great mystery. I would assume yes, but I also don’t know how souls manifest in the Astral Seas and finding sources on this has been difficult (it all boils down to “ask your DM”).

Orpheus can be convinced to stay alive and just hang out in a far-off "corner of these realms" to watch his people fight against Vlaakith from afar, and there's kind of a hint that him agreeing to do this means he isn't actually afraid he'll lose his entire soul. But at this point, we're getting too far into "maybes" and "what ifs" to suggest anything concrete.

Quick picture break of Orpheus contemplating the Supreme Tadpole to break up the text (I just thought it was a good shot)

Now I do have to acknowledge two things about Orpheus: one, he could be a special mind flayer precisely because of his unique abilities to shield his mind from elder brain compulsion, which means his unique abilities could also be the reason why he retains so much of his personality and therefore his soul. Since most of the time you end up eating his brain and absorbing his abilities, this could also explain why you retain so much of your own soul if you become a mind flayer instead.

In this scenario, you’re a special mind flayer because (1) you have a Netherese tadpole, (2) you transformed using the Supreme Tadpole, and (3) then you ate Orpheus’s brain. All three elements could be at play.

But not everyone eats Orpheus’s brain, so that theory has holes. I genuinely think you just end up being a special mind flayer because of the Netherese magic that messes with your tadpole. The Supreme Tadpole plus Orpheus’s abilities would only be the icing on the cake, so to speak.

The second thing I want to acknowledge is that there’s a glaring plothole for Orpheus even turning into a mind flayer at all, if you play the game a certain way. If you send the Emperor away to free Orpheus before the Emperor gives you the Supreme Tadpole (for example if you send Lae’zel over to smash the chains holding Orpheus captive without talking to the Emperor, which is what I did one time, and the Emperor was literally like “don’t talk to me again bye” and left), then how does he turn into a mind flayer? He doesn’t have a tadpole and you don’t have the Supreme Tadpole to give to him.

He gets around this with you or Karlach by saying he’ll lower his mental shields so that your tadpole hears the Netherbrain’s orders to transform and then replace the shields again.

Orpheus: My defences keep the voice of the Absolute out, but just as I can raise them, so I can lower them. I will allow the voice of the Absolute in. Once it reaches you, it will order you to transform. It will only take a moment. And once you are a mind flayer, I will fold you under my protection once more. You will be the saviour of empires, not least my own. Narrator: *With the withdrawal of Orpheus' power, your mind is rushed with the full force of the Netherbrain. You feel a compulsion unlike anything you've ever known - excruciating and exhilarating in equal measure. You wish nothing in the world but to evolve. Then - complete silence, as you are once again closed off from the Netherbrain's mind.*

So that makes sense, and it means you being a special mind flayer could boil down to your personality being hella strong + you being infected with a special Netherese tadpole. In this scenario, the Supreme Tadpole can’t be used to explain your unique soul-keeping abilities, and neither can you attribute your soul-keeping abilities to consuming Orpheus's brain (since he's still alive). So maybe the Supreme Tadpole and/or Orpheus's brain doesn’t have any effect on why you keep your mostly-unaltered soul.

In the end I guess it’s just the weird Netherese tadpole that does the trick? Honestly, I wonder if it all boils down to the fact that the Netherese tadpole doesn't eat your brain, it just lies dormant and incubating in your head, so you're not losing brain matter. (But this ignores or forgets that when you eat other tadpoles you literally watch them burrow into your brain matter so I'm sure the magic has something to do with it too.)

But anyway this still doesn’t explain why Orpheus, who shouldn’t have a tadpole, somehow turns into a mind flayer by, I don’t know, manifesting it??? Or why he is also a unique mind flayer once he does this without the Supreme Tadpole. I mean in his case I’m sure it is because he has special mind shield abilities but still. How did he turn into a mind flayer without a tadpole? Make it make sense, Larian.

He literally just touches his head with a psionic magic effect, which is the same gesture he uses to lower his mental shield to allow the Netherbrain to force you to transform. It's also interesting that if you have him transform using the Supreme Tadpole, then he doesn't say anything as he accepts the tadpole from you and absorbs it. But if you have him change without the tadpole, then he says, "The Netherbrain will be only too pleased to claim me."

Which...kind of implies that he's somehow able to communicate with the Netherbrain or hear its voice, so...maybe he secretly does have a tadpole? I mean, a popular theory is the Emperor probably did tadpole Orpheus off-screen since he seems to have a level of compulsion over Orpheus, but this is never explained or mentioned in the game so do whatever you want with that theory.

But I digress.

Let's do a quick summary, shall we?

TLDR: You're probably a super special mind flayer who gets to keep their soul mostly intact (or mostly unaltered) because your tadpole was imbued with Netherese magic and generally doesn't eat your brain. You might also be super special because you transformed using the Supreme Tadpole (optional) and/or consumed Orpheus's brain (also optional). Orpheus might be a super special mind flayer simply because he's Orpheus, and that is why he can still retain most of his soul/personality, even though he keeps thinking he's going to lose it. His status as special mind flayer seems unchanged whether he transformed using the Supreme Tadpole or not, so it really must be an Orpheus Thing.

Phew. That was a lot. And honestly, Karlach and Gale only complicate things, so they're going in a separate post. Keep an eye out for Part 3!

~*~*~

You made it to the end!!! Amazing, you deserve an achievement or something, but all I have are more gold stars.

✨⭐️🌟⭐️✨⭐️🌟⭐️✨

Tags for those who wanted the update! @galesdevoteewife @stuffforthestash

[writing-for-life]

Give me your head-canons:

How do you solve the Orpheus problem?

[And as always: Send me asks about everything Sandman-related!]

As in: It’s the elephant in the room in so many canon-compliant or -adjacent fanfics I read (we obviously don’t need to talk about coffee shop AUs) and Orpheus either keeps on existing somehow (and no one cares, because Dream and whatever love interest just literally fuck off into the sunset and pretend everything’s okay), or he gets killed by someone else who quite strictly wouldn’t be able to kill him.

Is it a solvable problem?

If he keeps existing as a severed head, it’s honestly a bit shite for him, isn’t it? So these are the fics where we keep on visiting severed heads. I don’t know, I find that… dissatisfying.

If Dream kills him, it’s over. Unless he stays in the Dreaming and lets the storm blow over. Will it though? I mean yeah, he could sit there for all eternity (groan), not take Death’s hand and make sure he doesn’t conveniently leave so the Kindly Ones get in and start ripping the Dreaming to shreds. But that doesn’t really sound like a solution to me either, because the problem won’t go away. Also: Probably no meetings in the waking world with you-know-who ever again. Plot hole, people, it doesn’t work that way.

If someone else kills him: Who? Please don’t say Hob, I know he’s immortal (so was Murphy), but the very idea is that no one can kill the poor kid because he made a deal with Death, which she apparently can’t revoke. Is there an entity who could? Which links in to the question: Why could Dream (somewhat rhetorical question)? Could any similar entity do it if they also had to grant him a boon? But don’t forget: Can’t be one of the Endless, they’re all family. Unless one sacrifices themselves. I mean, I think I’ve seen Death doing that in a fic somewhere, I think the assumption was she’s okay with dying a mortal death, but I also felt that’s not quite right, since it’s just not the same (also: in her mortal form, she wouldn’t have those powers). Does it have to be The Presence/Glory? Why would they care?

Yeah, he could use the Saeculum I guess, but really? If the problem never existed, it would also feel… wrong? Plus, we all know that changing the past always has implications on the future that go far beyond the thing we want to change. Plus plus: I honestly think it would be a bit OOC for him because he’d feel there’s not enough at stake (like a whole universe imploding) to ever justify that. So no, that’s, IMHO, making him into someone he really isn’t (can of course be an option in fanfic I guess).

Same goes for the Dream of a Thousand Cats Spiel. Someone who is so wrapped up in his duty just wouldn’t do that for his own personal gain, and not even for one loved one (he also wouldn’t be allowed to kick it off by telling anyone, and what 1,000 dreamers would dream that? I mean, WE all would, but that’s a bit… meta?😂). I said what I said.

Or is it some sort of magic? Like, he’s still a severed head, but we make him *think* he isn’t, give him back a body (in his own mind, or maybe even for real)? But that’s also… not great and feels like gaslighting him. Really not keen.

So what say you?

Is this just a case of: Unsolvable problem, hence we might as well pretend we solve it in some ridiculous way or pretend it doesn’t exist in the first place?

[orphika]

TW: self pitying crap, suicidal inclinations (of a type), being a shitty boyfriend.

Coleottero, amore

I'm sorry.

I failed you. I failed to prevent your suffering, just like always. And when you needed comfort, where was I? Spitting bile, drowning in my own fury. I can't – you're always going to martyr yourself. My trying to curb that? Apparently that's wrong. "Listen to yourself..."

Truth is, Nero is better than me. He gets away with shit I'm given hell for; I KNOW I CAN do this crud, but when do I get the chance? He knows exactly how to break me every time – the sheer fucking shame of existing gets right through me. I feel guilt. I give a shit. I am weak and he is strong.

I can't even keep you safe in my own fucking home. He knows where we live. The goddamn sofa surfing shirt stealing soul slaving fucking investment banking hobo even beats me there, he's HOMELESS and somehow that's a win! And he can just – walk in. What can I do? Hurting him doesn't make a difference, he's been tortured to hell and back and it just made him like he is. He won't remember anything he doesn't want to for more than a week, and he doesn't take anything I say or do seriously even though he throws worse tantrums over less issue every fucking night. He's a crazy fledgling brat and I can't stop him doing whatever he wants to us –

I failed you. Even now, you're hurting, and I'm mad about him and me. I'm not here to do the one thing I always can... pick up the pieces... because I'm a selfish ass and it's all got to be about me.

I don't deserve you. I don't deserve any of our life together. What you can't keep isn't yours... and I can't keep you, and this, without becoming just another Riccardo. Something you and our Angel insist is wrong. I don't know what's right any more.

All I ever really achieved was getting you turned into a window box, then unbound, then exiled, then into conflict with him over and over, and broken. I brought you to this awful place. You suffer because of me.

Keys to everything are on the coffee table. House is yours now. Good luck. I wish you joy of it.

Maybe this is finally me giving you something good? I don't know.

I'm sorry.

I should have backed off. Left you and Finn –

I'm sorry.

I'm going to rest, now. I won't die. Promise you that. But I don't have to live either. That's what we are. The third option.

I love you. But by itself that isn't enough.

Don't worry. And don't encourage me. Don't try to tell me any of this matters

[ The above handwritten note, evidently unfinished, is screwed up in the firebucket in Lot 404, but not yet burned. Drive by REM is playing on the sound system, on repeat. Orpheus' room – the master bedroom – is fully rigged for Beetle Rest, but he's not there. He seems to have taken a Hieros Gamos formula, his razor, the bulletproof suit and boots, and the Telecaster. ]

[ @duskbornbitchqueen ]

[raspberryjellybrains]

Morpheus is a truly fascinating character to look at from a moral perspective because he's such a dick but about 50% of the time it's on accident and the other 50% it's on purpose, but not because of any genuine hate or malice just... poorly directed sadness. Neither of these reasons make it okay, but they make it damn hard to see where the lines are regarding guilt, blame, and forgiveness. As if this isn't enough, hearing Morpheus' take on things (or appalling lack thereof) along with some others makes it even harder to grapple with.

When I'm analyzing this first 50%, I often come back around to asking whether someone should punished for something they didn't know was wrong, which is a normal hard and fast 'no', but this someone has had millinea to find out it is wrong and correct it and hasn't, which then pulls me into questioning where the ignorance becomes willful. Especially when the individual is so blindsided by the idea that there might even be something wrong. Morpheus is cold and aloof, which I put down to a general temperament thing; the problem is that he can't afford to be. This is, quite literally, a major reason why the series ends the way it does. He wasn't particularly mean to Lyta, just not very kind or understanding. He was busy and distracted and hurting and didn't explain what was going on or offer much sympathy (none in the comics). Is it okay that he did that? No. Do I understand why and feel sad that a trait that is innocuous to most was deadly to him? Yes, of course always, yes.

The other 50% where Morpheus is trying to hurt people, it's born out of his own hurt, as most cruelty is. He is not a malicious being; cruel, but not malicious. The way he treats Destruction is from his own wish to escape the weight of their existence and a frustration that someone did it, someone did it and he couldn't stop or join them. He doesn't actually hate Destruction, Dream clearly blames himself at least in part for his leaving and seems to miss him as much he wants to respect or exile him for the deciding to do so. He's on the fence about how to act and overcompensates by being desperately terrible, which is what he always fucking does. That's the worst part! I chose Destruction specifically as an example because the situation lays bare the core of his cruelty very, very well. Nada and Orpheus are good examples as well. Dream doesn't like not knowing what to do, doesn't like being scared and can't stand the idea of being thought of as anything less than perfectly confident and controlled at all times (wow, so healthy!). He doesn't want people to look at him and see someone who needs comfort so he doesn't let them look at all, and ensures they don't by pushing them away at the slightest offense. If they brush against an insecurity or hurt, he's trained himself to lash out rather than lick the wounds. He condemns Nada to Hell when she sees who he is and rejects him for it; He leaves Orpheus on an island for a thousand years because he reminded Dream that he can't fix everything, or even keep those he loves safe; He's so unforgiving and rude towards Destruction because he did what Dream desperately needed to do but couldn't.

Thing is, these are both fixable flaws with obvious sources, but he has spent so long living by them that he doesn't know any other way to do so. Maybe it makes me an apologist—I'm willing to acknowledge that I can tend to hold a warped perspective on things—but I see his core personal moral failings as holding himself to an ordinary standard of behavior when an extraordinary one is needed and feeling that somehow his power and suffering makes him better than just about everyone else (now think about that and Lucifer and lose your mind briefly.) He isn't, on the whole, awful and irredeemable. He's flawed and he's trying, but when one is endless there is very little room for such a thing.

Then I end up asking the question: did he deserve it? does anybody? And that's... hard. Morpheus caused real hurt and damage, intentional or not, across space and time. Does he deserve to die for it? I would like to say no, but I would also see reason in saying yes. The questions get big, applicabilty of death penalty and impact of intention on action big, and that's usually when I stop the train. The point of Morpheus' weird and complex morality is to drive the train straight into the sunset, which I fully encourage those who can do it safely to do but if I did, we would be here until tumblr was ash.

So I can't offer an answer with a neat little bow, or even a particularly persuasive argument as to the final moral determination of Morpheus as a character, but that wasn't necessarily my goal. I can tell you one thing for sure: he would majorly benefit from one (1) positive and healthy friendship.

[clementinatehasperdido]

My 2023 in books. Part IV

October

Big Swiss - Jen Beagin ⭐⭐⭐ 3/5

It is a witty, funny, very clever novel. It gives us the troop of messed-up female protagonists and I think it is very important to be able to empathize and love this type of protagonists. It is a book that you have to pick up and read at specific moments in life.

 “It takes an enormous amount of energy—and courage—to free yourself, to follow the path of transformation without abandoning yourself, without fleeing from your pain and all the loss you’ve experienced.” 

A visit from the goon squad- Jennifer Egan  ⭐⭐⭐⭐ 4/5   

I liked. It has a strange structure. It's not exactly a novel, it's several stories intertwined with each other. You live, you get old and you die. It breaks your heart a little but at the same time it's beautiful. If you like music you will also enjoy it.

“There's a fine line between thinking about somebody and thinking about not thinking about somebody, but I have the patience and the self-control to walk that line for hours - days, if I have to.”

The Candy House - Jennifer Egan ⭐⭐⭐⭐4/5

It's a difficult book to describe, it's good. They are intertwined stories. It's about technology, very black mirror. It serves as a sequel to “A visit from the goon squad” but can be read on its own. What I like about Egan is that she takes the time to give each of his characters independence. This book shows that as humans we have the need to connect with each other and I think that is beautiful.

“Who could resist the chance to revisit our memories, the majority of which we’d forgotten so completely that they seemed to belong to someone else?”

Bakkhai - Translation Anne Carson - Euripides - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐  5/5    

I'm going to say it again... Anne Carson was born to translate Euripides. I read in a review “Anne Carson and Euripides where born for eachother” I love it. The Bacchae is a beautiful tragedy, even subversive I would say.

“Beginnings are special because most of them are fake”

The Call of Cthulhu and Other Weird Stories -Howard Phillips Lovecraft ⭐⭐⭐  3/5 

It's a reread, spooky october. Love it. I don't have much to say about it, I read it little by little before going to sleep every day to get in the mood. I would like to say that it was more transcendental for my life.

Orpheus & Eurydice: A Lyric Sequence - Gregory Orr ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐  5/5 

A beautiful collection of poems. It destroyed my soul. It is the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. I know the story by heart, even so every word hurt me. I loved it. I don't really read poetry, but this was a nice surprise.

“To guide someone through the halls of hell is not the same as love”

Electra- Other Version Translation by Anne Carson -  Sophocles  ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐  5/5 

Lines above I already declared my love for Anne Carson. I will declare my love for Electra by Sophocles. It is a wonderful tragedy. It shows that when injustice persists, when the laws do not work, there, within one, the most human thing that exists is born: resentment.

“As for me- what harm can do it do to die in words?”

“I live in a place of tears”

November

We Paint - Chloe Ashby ⭐⭐⭐⭐ 4/5   

So sad. Written in a very beautiful way, another book about grief. But this time it is the grief of having lost a best friend. Somehow it brought back memories of the past. Heartbreaking.

“Better to be strangers for life, she must have thought, than to pick each other apart, one long, slow day at a time.” 

On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous- Ocean Vuong ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐  5/5 

Another of my favorite books I read this year. Damn Vuong writes with immeasurable talent. Gentle but strong. At times raw but at others soft. With such detail that each word is well calculated. I shed tears all the time. It is a perfect book.

“Sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you've been ruined.” 

“When does a war end? When can I say your name and have it mean only your name and not what you left behind?”

“I'm sorry I keep saying How are you? when I really mean Are you happy?”

Lanny - Max Porter ⭐⭐⭐⭐  4/5 

A fucking weird story. But I liked it. Max Porter has that power to leave me surprised every time. It was a quick read, I enjoyed it. It's like a fable. It reminded me of Latin American magical realism.

“False things, endings. Sustenance for fools and never what they claim to be.”

All the light we cannot see - Anthony Doerr ⭐⭐⭐  3/5

When I read it I gave it 4 stars, in retrospect I give it 3. I did enjoy it a lot. I think it does a lot, it says a lot and it's a nice story, very sad tho. But I was left with a strange feeling, as if a piece was missing. It has very descriptive and beautiful prose. 

“You know the greatest lesson of history? It’s that history is whatever the victors say it is. That’s the lesson. Whoever wins, that’s who decides the history. We act in our own self-interest. Of course we do. Name me a person or a nation who does not. The trick is figuring out where your interests are.” 

When all is said - Anne Griffin⭐⭐⭐⭐  4/5 

Another sad but intricate book. Precious. It is narrated by a dying man who decides to talk to five important people in his life. Full of regrets and reproaches, the book presents a nostalgic story. I cried. I felt it very close to my heart.

“I’m here to remember – all that I have been and all that I will never be again.”

A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes - Suzanne Collins ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐  5/5  

Is it really any surprise that this book gets a 5/5? It's Suzanne Collins, it's THG. I think Collins knows how to write about his characters very well and knows how to write what is precise. That's why there are 4 books and no more. This book is exactly what it should be, the villain origin story.

“You’ve no right to starve people, to punish them for no reason. No right to take away their life and freedom. Those are things everyone is born with, and they’re not yours for the taking. Winning a war doesn’t give you that right. Having more weapons doesn’t give you that right. Being from the Capitol doesn’t give you that right. Nothing does.” 

White nights- Fyodor Dostoevsky⭐⭐⭐⭐  4/5 

Did i had to do this to myself? No. But I did it. Depressant. It's so…heavy. White Nights is a short story, quick to read but damn it leaves you paralyzed.

“I don’t know how to be silent when my heart is speaking.” 

December

A Pale View Of The Hills - Kazuo Ishiguro ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐  5/5

Beautiful story by Ishiguro. Again, Ishiguro knows how to write stories that break your heart. It is the story of a mother and her youngest daughter who talk about the suicide of their eldest daughter. A beautiful text. Worthy of shedding tears.  

“As with a wound on one's own body, it is possible to develop an intimacy with the most disturbing of things”

What We Talk About When We Talk About Love- Raymond Carver  

Raymond Carver, terrible human being. There is no review about it for that reason. But good stories.

Cathedral-Raymond Carver  

Raymond Carver, terrible human being. There is no review about it for that reason. But good stories.

The Burning God- R.F. Kuang ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐  5/5 

The end. It destroyed me, there are no words. I closed the year with this book. It's a strange mix of relief and sadness. It is the devastation left by the acts of war but also the self-realization of what one has done. How are actions justified? It was a great closure to the saga.

“Take what you want. I’ll hate you for it. But I’ll love you forever. I can’t help but love you.” 

“It doesn’t go away. It never will. But when it hurts, lean into it. It’s so much harder to stay alive. That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to live. It means you’re brave.” 

[lowkeyclueless5137]

So about that event with the past versions of Ladybug and Chat Noir in the one book event where Orpheus and Yuuki try not to face palm at their own parents(also making sure that neither of the other NRC students that came with them aka, Ortho, Sebek, Kalim, Jade, Trey, and Idia[yes let’s add him so he’ll be more confused and freak out more] will blab either). But since you said it was based on the movie(and that movie had some musical parts) does that mean Orpheus, and Yuuki plus the other NRC students will just start randomly singing out of no where(imagine if they are the only ones to notice that yet no one else around them does for weird reason :])

It is based of the movie... But that excludes the wierd singing moments. :v

I did say it is based a bit more from the movie, but it's also a smol mix in between, because if we go fully by the movie, then the reverse episode doesn't have any logical explanation for existing. So it's at the base a mix in between, minus the wierd singing. Like pls no more musicals. I never understood musicals -3-

It is more set during a... Let's say a timeskip. Like a random villan of the week thingie.

Imagine how ladybug and chat noir must've felt when this ladybug and cat heroes from the 'future' are brought up. (this is set in between s4's truth/lies and gang of secrets, so no Alya knowing or all that stuff) Like surely this wasn't any of bunnix's doing.

Plus apparently in class, they have new students. Damocles really didn't do any fucking background check on these 8, just immediately 'sure here's your schedule and everything'. Like damn, now Yuuki and Orpheus understood why their parents didn't really like their high-school principal. This is somehow both better and worse than Crowley.

They got money via pawning some of Kalim's jewels. He didn't have with him his most expensive jewellery and it wasn't like he couldn't get more once they were back, so ya know... Not a significant loss.

Yuuki, Orpheus, Ortho and Sebek get in our akuma class. Jade and Kalim get yeeted in a year older class and same for Trey and Idia. They all used intricate concealing charms and for Ortho they said that he usually wears a mask for health reasons. Ya know, just to not raise too much suspicions.

Ortho actually gets along with everyone. Everyone likes him and it's pretty hard to hate on him. Doesn't mean he won't rip you to shreds if you dare try to target his big 'siblings'(yes, yuuki counts)

Sebek is absolutely all over the fucking place. He hates this class in particular with a burning passion and nothing can stop him. He wants Lila to crash and burn and he is so baffled by the homeroom teach's methods. Basically someone had to keep an eye on Sebek as to not have a fucking seizure.

Orpheus and Yuuki feel like in some complex purgatory, since these are their parents right there. They are classmates! And their mom is pinning for their absolutely oblivious dad.

Kalim befriends the whole school and everyone pretty much would die for this Boi.

Jade is feared by the whole school and no one wants to be associated with him.

Idia dies during dodgeball! :D

Trey is the sane one... He's the most approachable and actually normal one. Until you bring up teeth. -3-

At one point, Orpheus and Yuuki have to give the others miraculous from their box(which is usually hid in the infinite storage dimension from either Yuuki or Orpheus's weapons) and they do bring even more confusion for our og heroes. Sometimes ladybug summons in battle someone with the same miraculous as one of our assigned 'heroes' so it's absolutely clear there's just doubles of every miraculous at this point.

Kalim gets assigned the pig, Trey the turtle, Jade the peacock, Idia the butterfly, Ortho the ox (which kinda is making him a bit too op if he still has all those hi-tech weapons still. He's now untouchable too.) and Sebek the fox (he bonks people with the flute like it's a baton and he's not once apologetic about it)

They tried everything to go back home, but they flunked by the book magic. So only when they fulfill their 'mission' they can dissappear. They don't even know what that is supposed to be?!

Their mission? Help Lb and CN mend their very sour teamwork.

It takes a lot of 'bush spying' and just trying to tell them point blank to try and talk out their issues. PLEASE COMMUNICATE FOR FFS SAKE-

When they do accomplish their mission, the book would get them back to the real world and everyone collectively agrees to not speak about it. Ever. Like they all went through very awkward situations and a lot of face-palm moments to the point even Kalim got salty about sum shit. KALIM! THE NICEST PERSON YOU'D EVER KNOW ALMOST TORE A NEW ONE TO SOMEONE.

Yeah... Nice experience, won't recommend :'3

[solariaperegrine]

Colin Bridgerton maintains that love at first sight is insanity. That one had to be a particularly teeth grinding cringe kind of stupid to fall in love without knowing jack shit about the other person.

He took a sip of beer before continuing  his rant to Philip Crane, who, on second thought must be the last person he should have vented on.

The guy lost his wife just a year ago.

"It's  madness I tell you!  It's  so unrealistic and the way they portray it in movies makes me want to gag--"

These were the exact words that left his mouth when he saw her . The same exact words he now swallowed because the beautiful girl in sage green dress sat across their table and smiled at her  very obviously gay friend. 

And there it was, like a bolt of lighting.

It must have been what it felt like to witness the birth of Venus. This must be what Orpheus felt when  he met Eurydice. 

Love

How stupid it was to believe it could be possible. Yet...there was not another  word for this.

Was it mere infatuation?  

But he did not feel the least bit turned on.  Not that she is not sexy. 

And not like he is not like any hot blooded male.

Somehow this felt different. He felt like he was a goblet, overflowing.  In the few seconds he glanced at her, his mind filled with visions.

Of himself waiting at the altar. 

Of red haired children dancing in a meadow.

He heard church bells ringing and also heard himself swearing libations to her name.

What is her name?

He wondered if he knew her from another plane of existence. If this had happened  before and he was repeating some Sisyphean task from the universe.  Because  what else could it be, there was no worldly explanation  for the pull he felt in his bones.

The compulsion which made him shift  his entire  body to her direction

He must have heard Philip's attempt to pull him back to earth but somehow his mind won't  register  reason.

Love at first sight.

It doesn't  make the least bit of sense

But there he was walking towards her table .

The beating of his own heart loud against his ears.

...it was love

***

Philip Crane has had enough.

His  best friend and work colleague Colin Bridgerton  kept gawking at the pretty redhead across them.

His mouth hanging open like some idiot.

"You wanna talk to her?"

He said, snapping fingers in front of his face.  

"Y-yes!" Colin replied nervously.  This baffled Philip. Colin has never been the type to lack confidence.

"Go on then!" Philip said, tapping his shoulder.Did he even need to encourage him. The git had already stood from the table. 

"Colin" Philip called again. 

"Yes?" Colin said. 

"Play it cool mate. Don't come on too strong"

Philip held his own breath while Colin sauntered to her table. 

The redhead and her gay friend started noticing Colin  and both turned their eyes to the broad shouldered  man who loomed above them.

"Come home with me" 

Philip just about died. Of all the fucking pick-up lines. That's what he went  with?

"Who are you?" The redhead said,  incredulous, understably.  If  Philip was in her shoes, he would have decked Colin.

"The man who's gonna marry you"

Must this torture never end?

"I'm Colin"

Philip had to do something. He stood from the table and followed Colin, keeping a close enough  distance.

"Is he always like this?" She asked him, when she noticed the look of retreat he was trying to communicate  to Colin. 

"Yes" Philip answered, placing a palm on his forehead. As if being a single father of two isn't enough headache for one botanist. Now he had to provide parental guidance to his friend too? Fucking hell the man himself is an adult who spoke sense just minutes  ago. 

"Not really" Philip tried denying. But he remembered  the way Colin waxed poetics about Penelope, the wife of Odysseus. Sometimes being friends with a literature professor becomes too unbearable, especially  when said professor spent a sabbatical year in Greece then comes back to teach a semester of classical Greek epic romances to a group of youngsters about  half of them, horny young women.

Didn't  help Colin was apparently  very physically  attractive ( how else would he have known. They were classmates in an all male boarding school)

Thus, Philip's last semester  was spent dodging underage girls who kept pretending they have a class with him just to get Colin's  number. 

Is this now an opportunity  for revenge? He'll take it.

"But also kind of yes. I mean to say. He is not really the type to be this bold. He means no harm."

"I'm Penelope " 

Fuck.

"Your name is like a melody" Colin said, almost singing.

Philip felt his eyes roll back inside his head. Of all the names in the known world why did it have to be Penelope? Why Penelope? Why? That will just reinforce Colin's  delusions.

"A singer, is that what you are?"  The  redhead quipped.

"I also play the lyre" bragged Colin, a sheepish smile pulling his lips.

"Oh, a liar , and a player too! I've met too many men like you!" Said Penelope.

"'I am not like that"  Colin said.

"They all say that" she said. With a sad smile.

"I'm sorry" Colin heaved a dejected sigh.

"He's not like any man you've met" Still Philip  cannot help come to his friend's rescue.

"How  come?"  She asked.

"He's actually a classissist"  Philip said. Colin really owes him. Bigtime

"A classist?" She said, smirking.

"Well, he IS a Bridgerton"   Everyone knows the last name. As one would know a Vanderbilt or in the same vein, a Featherington.

"A narcissist?" Penelope  quipped.

" You could say--" Philip began.

"Philip!" Colin snapped.

"Fine. Tell her what you're working on. Orpheus "

To his relief, Penelope  seemed less weary of them.

Actually, is she enjoying  this?

Colin explained his craft. "I'm working on a song. It isn't finished yet. But when it's done and when I'll sing it. Spring will come again."

"Come again?" Penelope  asked.

"Figuratively"  Colin clarified. "Um. Let me show you"

Colin borrowed the guitar from Theo, the bartender who also had on his face, a shit eating  grin.

They were regulars. Now Philip  wondered if he can ever come again to this bar.

Soon however, Colin plucked the strings  and sang. Despite the strangeness of it all, Colin did have a wonderful voice and affinity to music.

The entire bar turned to watched him 

Great. More unsolicited  attention. But when Colin's  voice rang through the air, Philip cannot help be enthralled himself.

Spring will come That's what I'm workin' on A song to fix what's wrong Take what's broken, make it whole A song so beautiful It brings the world back into tune Back into time And all the flowers will bloom When you become my wife

"Oh, he's crazy!" she said.  "Why would I become his wife?"

"Erm Freudian Slip. He means can he buy you a drink" Philip said, getting in between them.

Colin gave him a look of gratitude.

"And why should I say yes to that?"  She said. She did not look weirded out or surprised, but actually  looked like she was teasing for fun.

"Maybe because he'll make you feel alive? " Philip said then wondered how Colin could pay him back for this.

"How do you know that?" She asked.

"He helped me when I lost my wife" Something  flickered in Penelope's  eyes then.

Something warm and wonderful.

"Fine. Mister Colin Bridgerton. Buy me a drink" Penelope said  to the fool, finally. 

Colin looked like a dog who had just been told he will spend the entire day at the park.

The gay friend who just watched everything  unfold with benign amusement suddenly  then took Philip's hand and took them back to their table, leaving Penelope to talk with  Colin.

"My friend just spent an entire weekend crying because of a bad breakup"  He said to Philip, whispering. 

"Let's  leave them be, shall we? What did you say your name was again?"

"Philip"

"Hi Philip! That's funny, My name is Dodi"

Philip let out a laugh.  An involuntary little laugh. He took a long swig of his Long Island Iced Tea and wondered  if he was a side character to some badly written RomCom novel.

[shardreach]

So Hades II got announced, I have some thinking to do.

Here’s the thing, I like thinking about media I’m engaged in and try to figure out what works, what doesn’t, why, where it’s going, where it could go instead, all of that jazz. Spitballing an idea for a sequel to Hades before yesterday would have been five minutes of fun and had infinite potential, but now that Hades II got announced, the possibility space has shrunk enough that I just can’t stop thinking about what could possibly be in store based off of the information that Supergiant has given us with the the announcement.

I’m putting a keep-reading break here for a reason, I’ll probably be typing a lot. And there will be spoilers for the original Hades all over the place as I reference it alongside with the details I can glean off of the announcement. And should I happen to land on at least some approximately correct predictions, it might impair other people’s enjoyment of Hades II if they’re not like me and don’t particularly enjoy the exercise of trying to piece things together instead of just riding along. This is the only warning.

So, we know Hades II is a thing. We know it is a direct sequel. The protagonist is Melinoe (I’ll not be adding the ë for ease of typing, but I’m aware it is how they have chosen to write it). Hecate is present in a role analogous to a mesh of Hades’ and Achilles’ from the first game as home base and mentor. Chronos is the flagship villain and has Hades hostage. Gameplay is similar, artstyle is delectable as per Supergiant usual. Daren Korb is still a member of the team, so the sound front will be utter delight no matter what. This is where I’m flailing, screaming, and just want them to take all the time they need to make it the best they can but also give me the game right now.

But then I start thinking, there are a number of interesting concerns, plot points, structural issues and whatnot that I feel need to be addressed in the story and structure somehow, at some point, and I think it’s possible to extrapolate at where they’re headed, in general, from what we already know with the first game, their general design principles, and the constraints already set in place by the announcement.

Whenceforth cometh Melione? Easiest part to theorize on, I feel. The game is a direct sequel, any 30 to 50 years is a blink on the timescale of gods. She would be Zagreus’ younger sister, born after the events of the first game. There are no hints are her existence in the first game because she did not exist. But the hymn thingy says she’s Zeus’ daughter! You scream from the depths of pedantry dungeon. Well, no. Zagreus was also associated to be an earlier form of Dionysus, as well as a son of Zeus. Supergiant addressed both of those points fantastically in the first game, with Zeus offering to claim Zagreus as his own because it’d be so much cooler than have stinky Hades as your dad, and the Dionysus lore is reframed as a prank on poor Orpheus that gets out of hand. The trailer refers to the underworld gods as her family, and she refers to Hades as father. Supergiant is saying this iteration of Melione is Hades’ and there’s zero reason to doubt them. Zeus will still probably offer or attempt to adopt her anyway because that’d just be a thing he’d do for the brag points.

When Melione, then? I don’t think they will give us a numerical fixed timeline, but anything between a few decades to a century or so would be enough for a new child to be born, grow up, but still be young and untested with lots of growth potential to serve as a protagonist that has to get stronger still.

Why not keep Zagreus, then? A young god would make more sense in the gameplay department than trying to contrive a justification for why Zagreus would be struggling to get through anything other than the latest of challenges. I also feel like Zagreus would be far better used as a part of the support cast in this case. I’ll offer a sketch of a timeline later.

It’s implied we’re going down, but Zagreus couldn’t exist on the surface, and Melinoe seems to be up there. What gives? Not all gods are created equal, in fact, they’re all very different. Thanatos could exist on the surface just fine. Nemesis is referenced in the first game as being busy on the surface specifically, hence her absence. It could just be that Melinoe just doesn’t share in that particular weakness, or, and what I find most interesting as a possibility, is in her design. Her left arm is permanently spectral, with a very clear armband serving as a boundary. Given her affinity for magic, and her involvement with Hecate, it’s possible that this is a sacrifice or spell of sorts, keeping part of her permanently dead so she’s always in touch (heh) with the underworld, and is thus not spontaneously dying.

So, if you’ll indulge me, let me sketch a hypothetical timeline of sorts.

Hades I ends, the Olympians reunite with the Chthonic gods. I refuse to believe Supergiant is going to rehash the dysfunctional family setup (as the main course) again, so things go well in the underworld for several years. Demeter’s thawing spurs a change in Olympus also, which leads to reconciliations on that front. Somewhere in there Melinoe is born, grows up, and is found to have an affinity to magic.

Much like Achilles was hired to train Zagreus, the family proceeds to look for a good tutor for Melinoe. Circe and Medea are considered, but Hecate takes an interest in the girl. If the literal goddess of the relevant field is available and willing, you’d be a fool to pick second best. But it requires going to the surface, so they come up with the ghost arm trick. Kind of boarding school.

Sometime during her training, Chronos breaks free and attacks the House of Hades. Now, this is where the interesting questions lie, and where I think Zagreus is best utilized. First, the entire house falls into disarray, and Hades is out of commission. Zagreus’ expertise and experience lets him show how much he’s grown by being able to cut off or reinforce all escape routes, and extra points if he even gets to fight the big guy himself - only to fail on account of time shenanigans. No, Hades’ resigned “time cannot be stopped” line is, unfortunately, true. Power alone can’t stop Chronos, we’ll need magic, so little sister is the one is best suited for the job. Hence why we play as Melinoe. Supergiant likes their tight narratives, and the fact that the protagonist is who they are because it couldn’t be anyone else would be very tight indeed. Hecate herself is likely the one actually working the necessary spells, but we need someone with a blood claim over the underworld to channel it and make it stick, so Hecate alone wouldn’t cut it.

Then gameplay happens, and this is where I think some clever framing could work wonders for the whole “you can repeat this forever” gameplay that would be seriously weird in a strongly narrative focused game with a definite conclusion. I would spitball this:

We try to make our way through to the depths of the titan prison, where we confront Chronos, setting up an anchor for Hecate’s spell, and when we win, he goes “no you didn’t” and rewinds time, which triggers the trap and creates a time loop, sealing him inside his escape attempt. Now, the outside world is partially safe, but missing some pieces and kind of unstable, so we need to then go into the time-looped bubble to, yes, confront Chronos, but also rescue any and all of our other allies who got caught in the trap (and Hades) and pluck them out of the loop. This would be the clear number 10, credits roll. Epilogue progress then looks a little bit reversed, with us taking the influence of the various allies we have into the time loop in order to reinforce it until it gets to a point where it is stable enough to be considered at least as reliable as the old prison (that one worked for thousands of years, after all), but hopefully better. And then the endgame grind can be framed as Melinoe taking on the role of time warden, running the loop prison to make sure it’s still holding, and repairing any cracks that appear as Chronos continues to try to escape.

While I know Supergiant is not afraid of tearjerkers, I don’t see them as being willing to go for an unabashedly depressing ending. So no Melinoe heroic sacrifice or oops accidentally locked in a time loop as the final endpoint. Which is why I think creating a loop and then rescuing people selectively is my favored hypothesis. Plus, it also respects the power level of a bloody titan. Just straight up killing him dead would be underselling Chronos’ magnitude. It’ll also be interesting to see what twists they’ll put on the pact of punishment, or if we’ll still be using Titan Blood to upgrade our weapons (maybe that’s what started the chain reaction that led to Chronos’ escape, after all), and all sorts of other minor things.

Am I right at all? Nah, probably not. But once the game is actually out, it’ll be interesting to come back and see if I got anything at least in the neighborhood of what we actually got. For me, at least, I don’t know about any of you.

[4denthusiast]

I don't get why, in fantasy fiction with a modern setting (except superhero stories), the trope of magic being hidden from most of the population is so ubiquitous. There are some stories that don't do this (e.g. Ra by Qntm, Unsong by Scott Alexander, and Bright (2017)), but they seem to be very much in the minority. Having a masquerade is somehow considered the default in non-superhero modern fantasy, even though it's quite a specific trope really.

It's common for the protagonist to learn about the existence of magic at the beginning of the story, which I guess works as a way to introduce the reader gently to the rules of that particular world, but that argument would equally apply to fantasy with a historical (or at least low-tech) setting, where the trope is far less common. Perhaps authors think that the worldbuilding required to fully integrate fantasy elements into a modern setting would be too difficult, but it's not like designing the in-the-know subculture doesn't run into the same issues as designing an entire culture where magic is common knowledge.

Having a masquerade also adds its own problems too. Why does the magical subculture bother keeping it a secret? How do they manage to be so coordinated that there's not a single leak (which should be harder in a modern setting)? How do the non-magic people not notice? It's not that these problems are insurmountable, they just don't seem better than the issues of not having a masquerade.

Maybe readers would find it jarring to not have a masquerade because it's so rarely done? It should be fine so long as you establish the premise clearly and early though. This also is too circular to be the whole explanation. Can I blame the extreme popularity of Harry Potter for starting it? I'm struggling to think of examples of modern fantasy older than that at all (Narnia I guess? That's a portal fantasy where one side is modern and the other side is magical though). Maybe I'm just not widely read enough. Did this develop out of the older tradition of audiences expecting more believability in fiction?

There are even some cases where the non-magic part of the world basically never features in the plot and could just be dropped from the story entirely (e.g. Fate: the Winx Saga). It feels like people are just doing it because it's the done thing, even when their story doesn't actually require it. I know my tastes in fiction are a bit unusual, but I still don't get what's so appealing about the masquerade that it's this ubiquitous.

(I've thought all this for a while, I was just reminded of it by watching Kaos, which looked like totally no-masquerade fantasy except a single weird moment where Dionysus reveals to Orpheus that the gods still live on Earth among humans, as though it's a secret.)

[elvesofnoldor]

tfw you called to achilles and patroclus to fight on your behalf and before you know it half of both theseus and arterius’ health bar straight up disappeared  

feels good feels organic press f to summon zagreus’ father figures to hand theseus’ pompous ass back to him

[morganaspendragonss]

maybe it will turn out this time

finally posting my @911lsbb!!! i'm so excited for you all to read this 💚 it will be three chapters and they will be posted every two days. word counts and warnings will be in the separate posts for each individual chapter fic title and chapter titles from road to hell from the hadestown soundtrack

summary: Falling in love with TK Strand wasn't part of Carlos's five-year-plan. Falling in love with anyone wasn't part of his five-year-plan, but TK... He blew like a whirlwind into Carlos's life and brought him a happiness he couldn't have even dreamed of. But tragedy is never far around the corner, and when it strikes, that happiness feels like a distant memory. * orpheus and eurydice, with a tarlos twist art by the absolutely wonderful and talented @dangermagnetstrand here! ao3 | 5.2k | hadestown references, first meeting, developing relationship, non-linear narrative

banner by @maomarty-blog

chapter 01: it's a love song

TK wakes up to warm, strong arms holding him close to a firm chest. A lazy smile curls on his lips and he doesn’t bother to open his eyes, snuggling back further into the embrace instead. The grip tightens around him and lips press into his hair. TK doesn’t know how long it’s been since he was this happy.

Too long; weeks, months — or that’s what it feels like.

But, really, any time away from Carlos would be too long.

*

Carlos’s five-year plan is simple: work hard, establish himself in the department and in his captain’s eyes, and make (or at least start the process of making) detective. His friends like to mock him for it; they say he’s turning into a workaholic and he needs to lighten up, that he’s going to forget how to have fun.

It’s stupid. Carlos knows how to have fun. He’s just not interested in the type of fun his friends usually mean.

Carlos isn’t a relationship guy.

He used to be, or he could have been had his first real relationship not blown up rather spectacularly when the parents issue came up. He can’t be the one to start this conversation again, so they’re at an impasse, and it’s not an obstacle Carlos feels comfortable removing right now. The avoidance is even comforting, now; it means he can still pretend that things are okay. 

Anyway, he figures that, while that’s the case, no guy is going to be willing to give him the time of day. And, sure, Carlos is open to being surprised. If love, somehow, appears in his life, and this guy, somehow, has no problem with Carlos’s ridiculous hang-ups, then he’ll happily eat his words.

He’s just not planning on it, is all.

He’s not planning (though he doesn’t know it yet) on TK Strand.

“I still don’t know how I let you talk me into this,” he grumbles, though he only makes a half-hearted attempt to get out of Lena’s grasp. His youngest-elder sister is famous in their family for always getting what she wants, and she can strong-arm anyone into anything. This was true of even their abuelo on their father’s side, who was a hard nut if one ever existed.

So it’s hardly surprising to Carlos that she’s succeeded in dragging him out to an open-mic night on his evening off, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

“Stop whining, Carlitos,” Lena huffs, smirking as he rolls his eyes at the nickname. “No one ‘talked’ you into anything; you want to be here and I can tell.”

“I really don’t.”

“You really do.” She speeds up and Carlos has no choice but to let her drag him through the bar, lest he get swallowed by the crowd around them. Hopefully, he’ll be able to sneak out before it gets too late, but he’ll play along for now — at least that way she won’t be able to say he didn’t try.

An hour in, he’s seriously regretting that decision. Most of the singers are drunk and so out-of-tune that Carlos thinks his ears will be ringing for days, the beer is warm and overpriced, and Lena abandoned him at the table fifteen minutes ago to talk to a couple of friends she spotted.

Carlos would use that fact as an out, but she’d asked him to watch her drink and, as both a cop and her brother, he can’t in good conscience leave.

So he remains, sipping at bottom-of-the-barrel beer and fantasising about his bed. He’s barely aware of it when a hush starts to fall over the bar, too in his head and regretting his decisions to bother with this whole thing. It’s been fairly loud all night, most of the crowd not even really quieting for the performers.

Until now.

Now, the bar is near silent, with most turning toward the stage for the first time all night. It draws Carlos’s attention to the stage where a guy who looks to be about his age is just starting to sing. He’s attractive, Carlos won’t deny noticing it, with bright green eyes and a smile that could probably charm even the most hardened criminals into telling the truth. He actually looks kind of familiar, come to think of it, but all thoughts of the man’s identity are knocked from Carlos’s head as his voice starts to wash over the bar.

King of shadows,

King of shades…

Carlos stops focusing on the lyrics and lets himself be carried away by the mystery singer’s voice. It’s as though he’s put a spell over the bar; even the bartender has ceased polishing glasses and is staring at the man on the stage. The song has a haunting melody, beautiful and lilting, and, though he’d never even heard it before this moment, Carlos finds he can’t imagine it being sung by anybody else.

This song was made for him; he was made for it. 

Maybe it’s the singer’s manner. His eyes are closed and there’s a small, private smile on his face, as though he’s forgotten he’s in front of an audience. He sways in time to the rhythm, his fingers moving expertly across the strings of his guitar. It’s this that captures Carlos’s attention the most — he doesn’t know why, but he finds himself lost in the moment. All he sees is those skilled hands; all he hears is that gentle voice and the beautiful notes of the song.

Then, suddenly, silence falls again.

It takes a moment for Carlos to pull himself out of his stupor, and by that point, the singer is already giving his thanks and walking off the stage. Someone else takes his place, and just like the flipping of a switch, everything goes back to how it was. Another out-of-tune voice fills the bar, loud shouts start to drown it out, and the crowd, so still a minute ago, is once again almost suffocating with how close the bodies press in.

Carlos isn’t entirely sure he didn’t dream the entire thing. He tries pinching his arm to check, but it turns out there’s no need; he’s very abruptly reminded of reality when Lena suddenly grabs his shoulders from behind, making him jump.

“Do you mind?” he demands, the grouch firmly back in place.

Lena just winks at him and leans to whisper in his ear. “Told you you’d like it here.”

His cheeks flame, but Lena is gone before he can get any stammered protests out.

*

He’s missed this.

It’s a strange thought to have, TK realises — he sees his husband almost every day, shifts allowing — but it’s true nonetheless. He’s missed watching Carlos bustle around the kitchen, whistling a soft little tune and juggling more pots and pans than the TK of a few years ago would have believed were needed for breakfast.

That’s the least of the things that have changed since he met Carlos; the TK of a few years ago would never have believed that one day he would have mornings like this in the home he shares with the love of his life — a man who accepts him for everything he is and isn’t.

The TK of a few years ago was more likely to end up dead in a ditch than with all of this.

But he does have this, and so TK takes a moment to bask in it, to soothe this strange feeling in his chest. He leans against the bedroom door frame, a small smile growing on his face as he watches Carlos, who is still oblivious to his presence. 

The ache flares up again and TK rubs at it, but it just continues to grow, stealing his breath and sending a chill over him. TK closes his eyes and shakes his head, hoping it will knock this sudden sensation of wrongness from him, but it doesn’t work, and when he opens his eyes…

When he opens his eyes…

Carlos is gone.

*

He can’t get the singer out of his head.

Carlos doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. This isn’t him. He doesn’t fall in love with guys at first sight — fuck, he doesn’t even think be believes in love at first sight. But ever since he went to that bar with Lena, his thoughts have been filled with flashes of green eyes around every corner and soft strums of a guitar in every song.

And, speaking of songs, he can’t find the one the guy sang at the bar. It apparently doesn’t exist outside of those three minutes, which is not helping to dissuade him from his theory that he was hallucinating or dreaming or — or something. 

Except, his heart lurches in a very real way every time he thinks about the stranger, and Carlos isn’t sure he could have dreamed up a guy like that. 

Then, there is the fact that Lena is taking every opportunity to tease, which is something Carlos wishes he was dreaming. It’s inescapable; when she can’t get to him in person, she’s blowing up his phone in every way she knows how, asking how the ‘love of his life’ is doing and when the wedding will be.

Carlos tries to ignore her — this is generally the best tack to take with Lena. If he lets her see for a second that she might even be slightly right she’ll become unbearable. 

It’s just a crush though, or that’s what it’s going to be. Austin may be a small town, but it isn’t that small; his chances of ever seeing the guy again are below zero, and his chances of talking to him are even lower. 

It’s a thought that helps him in his quest to forget the singer. Though Carlos knows that haunting melody will stay with him for a long time yet, he can make his peace with this, at least, remaining a mystery.

Then the storm hits.

*

“Babe?”

TK blinks and Carlos is in front of him again. He gapes at him and blinks again, and again, finally reaching out to touch him. Carlos’s chest is solid under TK’s hand, just as it always has been, and it stays that way when TK collapses into him, his heart finally slowing from the rabbit’s pace that came when Carlos disappeared.

Carlos’s hands come up to hold TK, but there’s a hesitancy to them that belies the frown that must be on his face. “Babe?” he repeats, more worried this time. “Are you okay?”

TK nods into the crook of Carlos’s neck. “I am, now that you're back.”

“Back? When did I leave?”

TK pulls away, though he refuses to let go of Carlos just yet. There’s this feeling inside him, inexplicable, that if he moves away now, he’ll never see his husband again. That Carlos will vanish, and never return.

His silence is obviously worrying Carlos, so TK pastes a smile on and leans in to press a kiss to his cheek. It’s a stupid thought anyway; Carlos would never just leave him like that. That’s always been TK’s move.

“Nothing,” he says. “For a minute, I thought… It’s nothing. Guess I’m still half asleep.”

Carlos raises an eyebrow, so much fondness in his expression that it aggravates the ache. It’s like a longing, but it can’t be, because all TK longs for is right here in front of him. 

“You do realise it’s nearly twelve, right?”

He shouldn’t be surprised. He’s never been an early riser on his days off, but Carlos’s words still catch him off guard. He could have sworn…

Carlos laughs and finally detaches TK from him, pulling him out of his thoughts. TK mourns the loss of contact, but he tries not to focus on just how deep that loss seems to feel, instead trailing after Carlos and instantly latching back on as soon as he stops in front of the stove.

“Clingy this morning, are we?”

TK isn’t sure himself what the mumble that escapes his mouth is supposed to mean, but Carlos doesn’t object when he holds on tighter.

TK relaxes into his husband, and he wishes they could stay this way forever.

*

Carlos keeps his hood up and his head ducked, shivering as cold drops of rain still manage to work their way underneath his clothes. The weather took a turn a few days ago, scorching hot sunshine suddenly becoming bullet-like rain and winds so strong it sometimes feels like he’s going to fall over. 

He still has his job to do, of course, but fortunately his only job at this scene in particular is to keep the public and press back — something that’s a lot easier than normal; even Fox News doesn’t want to risk potentially losing a reporter for a bit of gossip. So Carlos is able to stand at the edge of the scene, mind on the warm coffee he has waiting for him back at the precinct, and feeling more than a little bit sorry for himself.

That is until Lexi grabs his shoulder and snaps him out of it, directing his attention to an argument that’s apparently broken out between a patient and one of the paramedics. He can’t hear what’s being said over the storm, but the body language is enough to know that the argument is heated and the patient is showing no signs of calming down.

The guy takes another step forward; the paramedic one back. Carlos groans — why can’t people just be grateful for their help — and strides forward, covering the distance as quickly as possible.

“Excuse me, sir,” he says, muscling his way between the paramedic and the patient. “Is there a problem here?”

“Yeah. Yeah, there is a damn problem.” The man glares around Carlos, presumably at where the paramedic is. “The problem is that this bastard is trying to force himself on me.”

Carlos raises a brow.  “That’s quite a serious allegation, sir. Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m fucking sure! Ask him!”

He turns to the paramedic, who looks at him wearily and holds up a wad of now soaked gauze. “He cut himself on some glass; I was just trying to help.”

“And I told you no!” The man lunges forward again, causing Carlos to stumble a little bit as he tries to hold him back. The paramedic has backed off completely now, but Carlos feels no real need to pursue him; the concern radiating from him and the untreated gash he can now see on the patient’s arm indicate that he was telling the truth. 

Not that the patient is doing much — or anything — to discredit him, either. He puts his full weight into Carlos, screaming about waste of my time and healthcare costs and anything else he can seem to think of. It takes a while, and a lot of self-control, to get the guy to listen to him, and by then Carlos is more drenched than he ever thought he could be, and thoroughly out of patience to boot.

He wants to just stomp off to the cruiser and get on with the miserable journey back, but he’s stopped quite literally in his tracks by a voice calling him. 

“Officer! Hey, Officer!”

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, making sure a pleasant smile is on his face when he turns back around. 

To find the paramedic he’d helped standing barely a foot from him, and Carlos feels like he’s been punched in the chest.

Because, it’s…

Well, it’s him.

It sounds ridiculous and clichéd, but Carlos knows it to be true anyway; he would recognise those eyes anywhere. They’ve been living in his mind for weeks, this pretty, sparkling green that he’s certain he’s never seen in any other person. The smile, too — gentle, but slightly crooked — is familiar, and suddenly it hits him like a bolt out of the blue.

Of course the singer at the bar had been familiar to him.

Carlos works with firehouses all around town, but the 126, which this paramedic clearly belongs to, is kind of a legend in Austin. Brought back from tragedy, spearheaded by a new, fancy captain, filled with transfers who all seem to individually attract more problems than entire firehouses put together.

Everyone knows who the 126 is.

Carlos isn’t really sure how he didn’t put the pieces together before, but he’s not given time to think on it. The paramedic — Strand, his chest patch reads — is starting to frown, probably a bit confused by the staring.

“Uh, Officer Reyes, right?” he says, laughing a little nervously. “I just wanted to thank you for what you did back there.”

Carlos blinks, mentally shaking himself. “Just doing my job.”

Strand smiles again, his gaze very obviously raking up and down Carlos’s body. “And doing it very well, if I may say so.”

He’ll deny this to anyone who asks; he’ll tell them it was just an effect of the cold. But, in reality, it’s Strand’s words that set off the hot flare on Carlos’s cheeks, making him suddenly feel like he’s burning up rather than standing in the middle of one of Austin’s worst thunderstorms in years.

“Um, I, ah—” He bites his lip and swallows — get it together, Reyes. “Happy to be of service.”

Because that sounded completely normal and not at all like he’d been strangled.

Whatever Strand was looking for earlier, he seems to have found it; he grins widely and reaches out to lightly touch Carlos’s arm. 

The shiver that runs through him at that action is just yet another effect of the cold. Or so he’ll say.

“Yeah,” Strand says, so quiet that Carlos swears he shouldn’t be able to hear it. “I’m TK, by the way. Maybe I’ll see you around, Reyes.”

Then, he gives Carlos one last grin and heads back to the ambulance, shaking himself like a wet dog before climbing into the driver’s seat.

It doesn’t occur to Carlos until the sirens are well off in the distance that he never gave TK his own name.

It’s ridiculous how quickly his crush grows from there. Carlos tries to remind himself that a relationship is not what he’s looking for, that he needs to be focusing on his career rather than an attractive guy who has the gift of charm and knows how to use it. 

Unfortunately, the TK Strand living in his brain doesn’t seem to get the memo.

“What is wrong with you?” Lena demands, slumping down next to him on the sofa and smacking his shoulder. 

They’re at Tía Lucy’s for the weekly Sunday dinner, and while Carlos normally enjoys these gatherings, it’s hard to be fully present when he can’t stop thinking about the glimpse he’d caught of TK yesterday. He’d been wearing his long-sleeved uniform shirt which looked too good to be real, and he was smiling and nodding along as the little girl he was treating rambled on at him. 

It had been painfully endearing, but maybe Carlos could have dealt with it if it hadn’t been for the Look. 

The girl apparently hadn’t needed a hospital, so when TK was done with her, she’d danced happily off to her mother. Not wanting to be caught staring, Carlos tried to pull his gaze away, but he hadn’t been quick enough. His eyes locked with TK’s, and he’d watched as a downright sinful smirk crept onto TK’s face, followed by a wink that set Carlos’s cheeks — and several other body parts — ablaze. 

But explaining all that to Lena would be a serious mistake, so he just shrugs, keeping his gaze fixed on the TV, though he doesn’t know for the life of him what the show is.

“Nothing’s up,” he says, but even he can tell that he doesn’t sound convincing.

Lena huffs. “Carlossssss,” she whines, like the dog with a bone that she is. “You’ve been acting weird for ages, and as your older sister I have a right to know why.”

“No, you don’t,” he corrects, but because Carlos knows she won’t let it go, he continues, “It’s just work stuff; you wouldn’t care.”

“Wrong.”

Carlos raises an eyebrow at her; it’s well-documented in their family that Lena does not and will not — in her words — give a singular shit about any part of her brother’s or father’s line of work. “So you suddenly care about my job now?”

“What? No.” She pulls a disgusted face, looking briefly offended that Carlos would even suggest that, before her expression returns to one of determination. “I meant, you’re obviously lying about it being about work. You always get really boring and serious whenever it’s that — more than usual, anyway — but now you just look kind of constipated.”

“Do not.”

“Do so.” Suddenly, Lena grins in a way Carlos definitely doesn’t like and leans in conspiratorially. “Is it about a boy?”

“And we’re done here.”

Carlos gets up, intending to remove himself as far away from his sister as he can — which is his next mistake.

“Oh my god, it is!” Lena shrieks, loud enough that it catches the attention of several other family members in the room. Thankfully, none of them are their parents and none of them seem inclined to carry on listening, but it still makes Carlos’s heart skip a beat in panic. He glares at his sister, and for once she actually looks contrite. She stands and follows him to the front porch, away from everyone else.

“Sorry,” she whispers. “You know I’d never—”

“I know,” he interrupts, smiling weakly in her direction. “Just, can you please drop this now?”

“Nope,” she says, because of course she does. “I won’t say anything in there, but you owe me more deets. Who is he? Where did you meet? What does he look like? Is he hot? When can I meet him?”

Carlos whips around, and he takes great pleasure in her indignation when he returns the smack from earlier. “Nobody’s meeting anybody,” he says firmly. “It’s just… It’s a stupid crush, alright? Nothing’s going to happen except for me getting over it.”

Lena nods at him, eyebrows raised condescendingly. “Mm-hmm, sure you will.” Then, at Carlos’s hard look, she sighs dramatically and flings her head back. “Come on, Carlos. Are you telling me you’re not going to even try to make a move?”

“I don’t need a relationship right now, Lena.”

“Okay?” She shakes her head at him, eyes wide with disbelief. “You don’t have to have one. Ever heard of friends with benefits? Or even just benefits, I mean, I don’t judge… Where are you going?”

Carlos doesn’t dignify her with a reply as he walks back into the house. He makes sure to spend the rest of the day away from Lena, and ignores all her glares and annoyed text messages, but it’s harder to ignore the thoughts she’s put in his head.

After all… What would really be the harm?

*

They’re curled up together on the couch, music playing softly in the background, when TK hears a soft chuckle come from above him. 

He cranes his neck to look at Carlos’s face, unable to keep from smiling at the fond look on his husband’s face. “What?”

Carlos sighs softly, almost wistfully, and kisses the top of TK’s head. “I was just thinking about that night at the open-mic.”

TK’s grin widens — the night in question doesn’t need specifying. It was the beginning of their relationship after all: the night that TK spotted Carlos in the crowd at the bar and went over to talk to him after his performance. 

One thing led to another, and TK woke up the next morning in a bed that was not his own with a real life Adonis snoring softly next to him. He had taken his time that morning to gaze over every visible inch of Carlos’s body — whose name he had finally found out in a breathy whisper as they made out in the bar’s bathroom — trying to commit it to memory. Probably a bit creepy in hindsight, but at the time TK was convinced that it would just be a one-time thing.

He had no idea he was lying right next to his future husband.

“That was a good night,” he says, settling his weight further back into Carlos. “The best.”

But then Carlos shifts upright, forcing TK to move from where he was actually very comfortable, thanks very much. He glares at Carlos, only to be met with a matching, albeit playful, one directed straight back at him.

“Five years together and our first night is still the best one for you?”

“Well.” TK pretends to consider and laughs at the mock offended look Carlos sends him. “Top five at least.”

Carlos huffs, but there’s a grin creeping across his face. He suddenly pulls TK back on top of him, hugging him tight, with an intensity that suggests it’s the last time he’ll ever get to do so. TK makes a noise of surprise, but when he’s recovered, he shifts to face Carlos and returns the hug, burying his head in his shoulder.

“This is nice,” he mumbles, eyes drifting shut. Carlos’s hand ghosts over his back softly — almost imperceptibly so.

“I just love you,” Carlos whispers, so quiet that TK struggles to hear him despite how close they are. “I always will, no matter what you choose.”

*

He doesn’t know how he got here.

Carlos is clearing out some drawer space and he doesn’t know how he got here.

It was supposed to be a hookup.

It was supposed to be a single night of fun, and now Carlos is clearing out a drawer for the boyfriend he somehow acquired along the way. The boyfriend who is sweet and kind and has the prettiest green eyes and the most amazing voice, and who didn’t even run when Carlos messed things up with his parents.

Or, well. The boyfriend who had run, but who also came back.

A drawer doesn’t really feel like enough for the man who is in Carlos’s home more often than not, but it’s only been a few months since they started dating seriously. And it’s not like there haven’t been bumps along the way; first his parents, then TK had confided in Carlos about his addiction, which had taken a while for him to fully understand, and things haven’t…

Objectively, logically, Carlos knows things haven’t been perfect.

But, oh, they have.

He never realised how lonely he was before TK entered his life. Sure, he had friends and he went out occasionally, but his mind was always elsewhere, always on the next thing, always on the job and how he can do better, be better.

Then he brought a hot paramedic-singer home with him, and suddenly found himself with a whole other family.

TK’s friends are loud and every bit as much trouble as their reputation says, and they immediately adopt Carlos into the fold. Sometimes, it’s hard to remember that they were TK’s friends first; Paul has a habit of stopping by occasionally with food and seems to know everything about Carlos, despite Carlos being fairly sure he never explicitly told Paul half of it.

Mateo instantly takes on the role of the younger brother Carlos never had and his exuberance is infectious wherever he goes. Marjan and Nancy are both slightly intimidating at first, but they drop the act pretty quickly; Nancy actually ends up becoming one of his best friends.

It’s during one of their now weekly game nights that it strikes him how different his life is to a few months ago. And then the second realisation — he loves it.

Carlos always thought he liked his life as it was. He didn’t think he was missing anything or needed more than what he had. But now he has a whole other family, and a boyfriend his parents love, and a half-empty drawer in his bedroom that he’s already thinking about turning into half a closet.

And he’s happy.

TK Strand came into his life in a whirlwind, and, for once, Carlos is content to let himself get carried away by it.

But the thing about whirlwinds is, if you’re not careful, they might become a tornado.

*

He tries not to let Carlos’s comment get to him. Something about this whole day has felt off, almost like it’s… Well, like it’s too perfect. TK doesn’t even know what time it is; there are no clocks in sight and he can’t find either of their phones or watches anywhere. Carlos said it was noon when he woke up, but it’s like the sun hasn’t so much as twitched since then, like time has stopped completely. And Carlos is just… He’s too perfect, too. Unsettlingly so.

Of course, if anyone asked TK, he would immediately say that Carlos is the perfect man. It wouldn’t be a lie either because he is perfect for TK, but the Carlos he has before him now isn’t his Carlos.

He smiles the same and walks the same and his body feels the same as it always has, but there’s something nagging at TK, telling him that all of this is too good to be true. Even the loft feels wrong somehow.

“Babe?” he says quietly, because the knot of anxiety in his chest telling him that this isn’t where he’s supposed to be is too great to ignore, even as his brain screams at him to let things be. “Is everything… Are we…” He huffs, frustrated; he’s never been the best at articulating his feelings, but this time it’s just impossible.

Literally — every time TK tries to come up with the words, he draws a complete blank.

Carlos frowns. “Are we what?” he asks, his voice so soft and caring and Carlos that TK almost tells him it’s nothing.

The word is halfway out of his mouth, in fact, when he manages to catch himself. “I don’t… Is there something we’re supposed to do today? I feel like I’ve forgotten something.”

Carlos’s face clears and he smiles sympathetically, as if this is a regular occurrence for them. And, okay, TK will admit that he does have a slight tendency to be forgetful, but he’s not this bad, right?

“You haven’t forgotten anything,” Carlos soothes — soothes? — as he strokes TK’s cheek. He must read the confusion on TK’s face as something else, because he follows up with, “Don’t be embarrassed, the doctor said memory loss was to be expected, remember? It’s okay.”

If Carlos says anything else, TK doesn’t hear it. A wave of static fills his senses and he feels suddenly off balance, like the loft is literally disintegrating around him. He pushes away from Carlos’s embrace and lurches to his feet, breathing heavily as he tries to centre himself again.

“What are you talking about?” he gasps. “Doctor…memory loss…what… What is this?”

He searches his memories for something that could explain this, but again and again he comes up empty. He can’t remember anything. And it’s not that he doesn’t have memories — he remembers his life in broad strokes, he remembers meeting Carlos and their wedding day and the last vacation they went on — but yesterday, last week, last month, even, is entirely a blank.

He doesn’t remember anything.

“Tyler,” a voice says, Carlos’s he thinks, but he’s suddenly not sure because a cacophony of beeping has started in his brain and there’s yelling coming from somewhere and hands grabbing him and—

[hhhecates]

HECATE NOOOOO ORPHEUS XIAO WOULD BE SO SAD 😭 he went all this way to rescue you but he cant even look at you when you reunite... and when he does he would never be able to forgive himself for dooming you again omfg omfg ouch that hurts my heart but the angst is so good,, ack

-🌲

Edit: I explained a little more the original myth of Orpheus & Eurydice and the thought process behind this little drabble too in case you'd like some more context, it's here

Real talk,,, I don’t think I’d write Xiao as Orpheus, but rather reader as Orpheus,,, somehow it makes more sense to me? Xiao doesn’t strike me as the type to go against life and death themselves, not because he doesn’t love you, but because no matter how much he hurts, how much he wants to cry and scream and kick and say it’s not fair,,, he knows it actually is, that’s just how life works, Xiao doesn’t feel like he has the right to go against death, to be selfish to the point of dragging you back in his arms.

You instead?? (maybe you agree with xiao but for the sake of this,,, no you don’t) you don’t give one fuck. So yeah, you make your way to the underworld and demand to have him back, proclaim your story like it’s the greatest love story of all times because for you it is, it’s the only one to exist, the only one that will ever matter. And you do manage to convince Hades and Persephone to give you a second chance, they warn you about the conditions you have to abide by if you really want to see Xiao again, and you readily agree, you went all the way to hell to get him, you’re not stopping now.

Now you need to go back to the world of the living, piece of cake right? Right. You shouldn’t fear anything, even though you can’t look at Xiao and he can’t talk to you, his hand is held tightly in yours, and that’s enough of a reassurance to keep you going. Xiao’s hold feels grounding, familiar, a kind of warmth you never realized you missed this much until now. Then why are you hesitating?

You stop right in font of the gates of hell, one step away from having your beloved back in your arms. You squeeze his hand one time, xiao squeezes it back two. It makes you smile a little. You never doubted, how could you, you know it wouldn’t feel this safe, this right, if it weren’t xiao’s hand in your own. “I’m sorry.” you say, voice trembling, only now you take in the full weight of your actions. “I’m sorry I was so selfish.” you whisper, tone faltering in shame. Xiao’s hold on you doesn’t waver, it doesn’t make you feel any better. You know xiao would acquiesce, anything for you, and that’s where his only fault dwells. Xiao’s self-sacrificial to a fault, he would gladly throw his soul to rot if it meant not seeing you sitting by his grave for days and refusing to even get up. You wanted xiao to have a second chance. But xiao wouldn’t want one for himself. Your so called second chance was for you and yourself alone. “I’m sorry.” you repeat, take a shaky breath, tears gathering on your lashes but you swallow them down, because even if turned away, you know xiao would see them if they were to fall “One last time. One last time is all I need, I swear.” xiao doesn’t understand fast enough, or maybe he does, you don’t know, you don’t want to know. You turn around, and you feel like you can breath again, one last time you look at him, tearful laughter peels from your lips, xiao’s sporting a soft wistful smile as well. “Thank you.” you manage to mumble, you immediately look away, cowardly enough not to stand the way you know he’s going to be sucked down back in the pits of hell, but you swear you feel the gentle and doting touch of his hand caressing your cheek, brushing under your eyes just a breath away from sweeping your tears away but— oh, he’s gone. Again.