#this got long-ish wHY

[ixkhor-and-ambroxia]

Hey #GreekMythology tumblr, I want ya’lls help on something :).

So, I’ve been thinking about starting this massive project. Like, would take years and years work of writing and research and sheerly finding the time and motivation for. And as I was thinking about the specifics, I thought: why not bring others into it as well? Because as much as I am interested in a lot of Greek Mythology, there are things that are simply not my interests and might cause writers block and my goal for the project would to be as fun as possible. So, here we are.

What is the project exactly? Well, hopefully, it’ll be a long Ao3 series/fic focusing on the individual perspectives of various figures/events in Greek Mythology arranged in (semi/good enough) chronological order. I personally intend to write for Poseidon in his/my version of the Titanomachy and (maybe) some events that follow, if you want a little bit of an idea on what I’m talking about.

The limits on this are almost completely free, all that I ask are that each of your submissions are one POV only (and by that I mean your main subject’s POV). Why do I say this? I say this because that is what I want this project to look like. It doesn’t matter if it’s First, Second, or Third POV along with all the other variants of those three, my main focus is on the individual experiences of these individuals. Kind of like character studies, if you know what I mean. I’m intending for it to be mostly formal but I will absolutely accept crack admissions that I will probably put into its own series to Separate the Vibes for whoever comes by :).

Ultimately, this is a completely open-ended project that has absolutely no deadline. I’m about to go to bed so I can’t go into too much detail, but if you want to DM me or send any asks, I am completely okay with that and we’ll all flesh out the specifics we go :).

What is my overall purpose? Not only is this project made for my own individual purposes of learning more about the gods and other Greek Mythology writers, but it’s also the chance to spread the word of other writers. I know how hard it is to get specific audiences, especially when you’re shy, so this is a chance for your work to be stumbled upon. Each post on the eventual Ao3 fic will include your socials, how to find you, and your other general works on either ao3, tumblr, wattpad, or other :)

Can you participate even without socials or a tumblr page? Yes you absolutely can :). My asks will always be open to anons and I will do my best to give credit when I eventually post everything :). If you want to post multiple submissions or simply just want a trackable (between works) name to your writing, just sign something at the end. It could be a name, it could be a potential username, I don’t mind at all :)).

How do I submit things? Well, the best way would be to DM me :). I have a personal writing email separate from most things that would be perfect to either share a google docs with or to just send a copy-and-pasted copy of it. Otherwise, I take asks. None of them will be posted unless asked or we’re ready to so it’ll be safe to just drop them off in! It’s also where I take questions :).

Any other things to note? I’d really appreciate some other moderators and editors :). There’d only be like two or three of each and we’d have to know each other decently well before officially starting, but some help would be appreciated! Also, I’d like to keep a working ‘spreadsheet’ of who’s working on what just for people to see what’s going on :). Maybe some people can collaborate or it’ll encourage those niche writers to write :). A third thing is that most questionable stuff is accepted. I’d personally rather not handle all those things other than posting it so it might be a while until I can officially accept (consensual and/or graphic) ✨spicy stuff✨ but, other than that, I’ll take any of it (also, it’s Greek Mythology, almost all of it already happened). If someone’s willing to take over the ✨spicy stuff✨ then please DM me so we can work out the details and see if it’s a nice fit :)

Honestly, that all should be it. The main point is that I’m trying to start up a long-term project on Tumblr and Ao3 about what is essentially Greek Mythology character studies that not only allows for mass communication across a wide audience, but also (hopefully) gets some recognition for the smaller writers :). Feel free to DM me or send me asks with questions but for now, I shall sleep

Tagging: @bluebellstudio @thirteen-deaths-later @0lympian-c0uncil @happyk44 @h0bg0blin-meat @sworeontheriverstyx @deathlessathanasia @gotstabbedbyapen. Sorry if I tagged you and you want nothing to do with it, I just wanted to get it out there /pos /gen

[cuteniaarts]

@katkastrofa, circa 40-ish hours ago: Hey, what if our newest bunch of OCs adopted a baby from one of the other brothel girls who knew she couldn’t afford to raise one? That would make for some fun shenanigans :D

Me, with a notoriously non existent sleep schedule, instinct of self preservation or concern for my poor wrist: Alright, bet. Watch how fast I can make you fall in love with this hypothetical baby >:)

Daneli as a gentle and loving caretaker-turned-adoptive-mother is something that can be So Personal, actually, and originally I was going to leave it at this quick sketch, but then I got carried away thinking about what this child will grow up to be like raised by this little gang of misfits, so…

Here she is!! A little older and so, so beautiful, I need more of her in my life immediately, she’s way too precious

And, because I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t also add a sapphic element to this absolute cinnamon roll, a small crack ship that I’m only half serious about for when she’s a little older still:

All in all, we may be getting impossibly far from canon, but I for one already cannot get enough of sweet darling Kumisai <3

(I fully drew three pieces from scratch in 9 hours I cannot feel my brain or my hands anymore send help)

[bmpmp3]

as someone who cannot deal with mobile gacha games post-2016 I AM cautiously intrigued by infinity nikki. visuals look fantastic and so cute, the platforming in the ign gameplay i saw seemed a little rough but as long as its not too hard i'll be fine (<- said as a person who is shockingly bad at 3d platformers) but i am hopeful. if its a fun game to play i'll be really excited, as someone who's only played nikki up2u ive always been curious about how that normal girl dressup game turned into like. nikkis hellscape or whatever ive heard about it. nikkis torture dimension. nikkis purgatorial plain of endless suffering. thats my understanding of the franchise at least.

[the-witchhunter]

Plant(??) Danny

Just was going through my old likes and found THIS POST

And it gave me some ideas

So kind of a twist on corpse au and full ghost Danny, Full Corpse Danny if you will:

Danny died in the portal accident and did not come back as a ghost, leaving his fully dead body there. To cover up the death someone buries him in the woods. As time goes on, Danny starts to grow from where his body was planted like some kind of twisted shrub made of meat, wood, and ectoplasm that loosely resembles a person, that becomes more Danny-like as he grows. And he’s just kind of stuck there until someone finds him since he’s not very mobile at that point.

Depending on who buried him and covered up his death it can go a couple of ways. 

The Fentons: Seeing their invention killed their son, accidentally, they panic and hide his body in the woods, because as much as they loved their son, they can’t let him have died in vain and destroy their life’s work. The official story in Danny ran away, and Jazz is still hopeful he’ll return or reach out to her. I’d set it maybe a year or two after the accident with Sam and Tucker finding him in the woods, Them being younger and having not known Danny before, and taking care of and bonding with their new weird plant friend.

Sam and Tucker: They were just dumb kids. It was a stupid dare, their friend died, and they panicked. They buried him in the woods and swore never to talk about it again. They watched as the Fenton parents and Jazz desperately tried to find their son, wishing he would come home, and they said nothing. A year passed, Jazz went off to college and everyone had to move on. Then Valerie found him in the woods. Her dad had been let go of his job. Axion had been looking to cut its costs, and after mostly automating the security system, they let go of the more senior(more expensive) members of the security team. They put down their old security dogs rather than rehome them, this is exactly something a company like that would do. So Valerie, having lost her status with the A listers, spent her free time walking in the woods where she finds Danny. Danny’s mind is a little scrambled from the accident and isolation of being alone in the woods for a year. His memories aren’t exactly clear, coming to him in bits and pieces. She names him Danny, ironically after himself, and they bond. over time, with a little extra care from Valerie, he grows more and more until it’s apparent that he is in fact the same Danny. Perhaps even romance happens

maybe after enough time, he can pass as human again. So Danny Fenton returns, much to the confusion and fear of whoever put him in that hole in the ground.

Maybe he still has to deal with ghosts. Hard to do when you’re a plant stuck in a pot, but he’s used to dispose of them like a weird Venus flytrap. Whether he’s eating them or his mouth is connected to the ghost zone is up to debate

[theheightofdishonor]

100 (103) reasons why Daichi is the best 

1. his face 

2. them thighs 

3. most reliable captain 10/10 has never  met a ball he can’t save 

4. the chip on his shoulder

5. he's not just an underdog, he's the captain of underdogs, the biggest underdog of all.

6. kinda insane sometimes. Total volleyball freak. (My adored <3333)

7. you will never meet a more reliable man

8. deserves all the admiration in the world for handling a team as insane and wild as Karasuno

9. knows his team like the back of his hand

10. y'all remember that time he saved kagehina's failed freak quick because he knew that they'd go for it and also knew they'd mess it up?

11. there was a solid period of time where he was both coach and captain and handled the jobs marvelously

12. never falls to pressure,

13. treats his team to after-practice meat buns

14. ridiculously observant

15. seriously, this man immediately figured out that hinata had his eyes closed during the first freak quick.

16. terrifying enough to scare Noya who canonically has not felt fear since he was a child

17. can silence people with a look.

18. surprisingly snarky

19. officially acknowledged by kuroo as a crafty son of a bitch and kuroo would know

20. fr though, Karasuno would never have been the team it was without him, he's such a great goddamn leader and a brilliant captain

21. every single person on his team listens to this man

22. and he's always great at knowing how to deal with the different members on his team whether its goading Tsukishima at exactly the right time or knowing when to cheer Asahi up.

23. relentless, driven and never gives up.

24. the honest country boy vibes

25. has the obliviousness of an anime protagonist when it comes to romance.

26. can site facts about sea creatures off the top of his head and does it often enough that Asahi can provide context for what he's talking about

27.the ✨ soulful eyes ✨

28. we all know that under that cute face is a terrifying demon but man, what a face 

29. is a brave warrior willing to sacrifice (lose a tooth) for his people

30. basically got kagehina together

31. well-rounded player

32. got SO hot post time skip

33. not afraid to look like a lunatic in public when he's yelling at his teammates

34. short king

35. his flawless jump float receives 

36. that one time he yelled at Noya and co for coming to school on New Years like Daichi what were YOU doing at school during New Years? 👀👀

37. wore the vice principle's wig twice and did so flawlessly

38. the fancy foot moves on court

39. best pep talks

40. also great motivational speeches. Ikejeri literally remembered one of them for like 5 years

41. this man was Karasuno's ONLY floor defense for a hot minute there and still won against Seijoh. Seijoh.

42. that being said, he's not part of the defensive line, he's a spiker who also does defense and don't you dare forget it

43. the breadth of his gorgeous, gorgeous back

44. Was willing to kick out Kageyama and Hinata if they didn’t learn to get along. It’s not like Karasuno has a deep reserve of players, they certainly needed every player they can get and yet, he held firm. 

45. when he saves almost all of inarizaki’s crazy serves like it’s nothing 

46. also wrecked Oikawa's shit with that one save

47. literally died for his team

48. first year daichi w/  🤝 middle school hinata and kageyama; being people who care more about vb than the rest of their team and doing their best to get better on their own 

49. it takes a certain type of man to let Hinata on court despite his utter lack of basic skills

50. his bashful grin that's probably got people swooning left and right

51. just generally serving looks 

52. his arms

53. “We’re gonna eat them alive” 

54. that one time he mentally dragged Ukai to filth 

55. quick on-court reflexes 

56. the patience of a saint to deal with kuroo and bokuto’s antics 

57. refuses to get intimidated, even by Ushijima 

58. let ennoshita lead the team even though he could’ve gotten back on court 

59. this moment right here

60. when he was ready to retire because he thought it’d be better for the team 

61. “especially people who have to bike up a mountain” 

62. that time he scored off of kita’s recieve 

63. the entirety of ep 3x06. 

64. tired dad in a teenage body 

65. because his old teammate told him he “got bigger 😏” and daichi thought they were calling him fat 

66. being the epitome of benevolence a la forgiving Tanaka for killing him 

67. “talking too much is a sign of nervousness, ku-roo san” 

68. all the daichi-kuroo handshakes and how he magically starts acting like the competitive teenager he is when he spots kuroo’s rooster hair

69. i take back what i said about being able to scare people with a look, he can do it with just his aura

70. delivers an immaculate immitation of Kageyama 

71. so concerned and sweet to his underclassman

72. tried so hard to help Hinata's nerves.

73. *solemnly* “i was going to keep it quiet but....we’ll have bbq after the practice is over” 

74. cheerfully leads his squad through dozens of penalties during camp 

75. at times, very dignified

76. takes to acting like Tsukki's annoying uncle

77. when he went back to the gym and we saw his mosaic of memories and it made us all tear up 

78. Always imparting words of wisdom ie “SHUT UP” and “you’re a wimp”. 

79. he literally has nightmares about the principal’s wig 😭

80. Didn’t brutally decimate Kageyama for the “i can spike, serve, etc all by myself” line because if some snotty brat said that to me, i'd

81. He’s so intuitive in general. He’s seen Kageyama for maybe a couple minutes and then a half hour match and already knows exactly how to hit him where it hurts like when he threatened to take the setter position away if Kageyama and Hinata couldn’t win a match together. 

82. His saves are a work of art sometimes

83. So beautiful 

84. always willing to collaborate with and concede to his teammates whether it’s asking Kageyama’s opinion on how to handle Seijoh or letting Tsukki handle the timing of the blocks or staying back so Ennoshita can lead, 

86. Like despite hq having tons of characters + themes about pride and ego, Daichi has almost none at all. He’s secure in himself and his skill level and doesn’t get insecure about his teammates/friends being more skilled or better than him. 

87. never lets failures bring him down 

88. on a similar note, he, like hinata, is always willing to try, always ready to keep going no matter what happens or what obstacles lie ahead 

89. he’s the one that gave Noya the nickname of “Guardian Deity” 

90. the first one to always acknowledge and appreciate everything Takeda’s done for the team

91. Despite the generally optimistic attitude, he’s still realistic. 

92. Hilarious when he’s being blunt 

93. Surprisingly ok with fudging the truth. Like when he tells Asahi that he’s the only one that hasn’t gotten over the Date Tech match which is blatantly untrue. ‘

94. got so worried about his dream that he physically came to the gym to make sure it wasn’t taken over by the basketball team 😭

95. Simps over Shimizu like she deserves 

96. For someone who claims to be terrified all the time, he’s damn good at keeping it together

97. his little rooftop freak out before the Inarizaki match 

98. gorgeous eyes 

99. the haircut that just adds to the unassuming look hes got

100. Doing hundreds of penalties only made him incorporate penalties into Karasuno's normal training routine. Such a masochist.

101. Has the sweetest friendship with Suga and Asahi

102. might not be a monster but has his moments of monster-esque insanity nonetheless. Tell me this doesn't sound like something Hinata or Kageyama would say

103. noya compared his defense skills to yaku who's possibly the best libero in the entire damn series (!!!)

Basically he's just the best and I love him so much that I started with goal of writing 20 and ended up with 103

*edit: initially had 102 but number 103 i came across and couldn't not include it

[acebytaemin]

no i need sleep right the fawk now bc i am not saying another WORD im on my knees punching the ground by the way if you wanted to know.

[makkie-is-screaming]

idk how I’m gonna be a functioning person when going to the park with my cousin fucked me up so bad I only now feel like I’m actually in my body

[c0tards--s0luti0n]

love (hate) when im Thinking about my childhhod and im like "yeah it was pretty normal and good ithink" and then i fuckingg Rember

[systelon]

it feels kind of weird being an artist that mainly draws animal people n anthros & that being the main kind of thing people usually come to my page for, but not being able to relate to like most of the furry community in general (specifically when it comes to art + kind of characters i draw)

[youremyonlyhope]

Not me legitimately looking up flights to Ireland for a last minute near-mental-breakdown solotrip...

[nightmare8-420]

god why dont i feel like a human

[bledf1rst]

seattle pride was good. i have completely lost my voice. drag queens are the bomb diggity. me and the two friends i was with inhaled two pizzas in five minutes when we hit the? two hour mark?

i'll try and be around tomorrow 😘

[inkykeiji]

I feel like I'd find Choso more attractive if he didn't look like his five-year-old sister styled his hair. 😆

OH MY GOD ANON LMAOOOOOO 。ﾟ(ﾟﾉД｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡ aww i like choso’s hair i think it’s rly cute!!! i like how it’s all messy n stringy <33 he probably doesn’t wash it as often as he should <3 gross <3

[soulsxng]

Bleddyn Llew Rhodri, life to current day, pt 3

By the time their son was born, there were already rumblings of a coup. Bleddyn and his best student (and fellow royal knight), Laisren, along with the other knights loyal to the young ruler were able to fend them off for almost two whole decades...but over time, as those rallying against the young ruler grew stronger and more organized, the threat eventually became too much.

"I can feel something big on the wind." The young ruler told he and Laisren one day, after pulling the pair aside. "Laisren, I would have you remain here with me. Bleddyn...take Oleander, and bring him to safety outside the Unseelie."

And so he did. Though Oleander protested, wanting to stand alongside his family, he at least understood the severity of the situation enough not to resist Bleddyn overly much. The pair left the Unseelie to meet with a small group of dryad, loyal to the young ruler's cause, just through the Mortal Realm's entrance. And it was there that Bleddyn left him, as he made the return trip to the palace.

...Had he not stopped to assist some of the guards at the city gates, trying to repel a force of coup members, perhaps he would have made it in time to stop those that had slipped into the palace undetected. If he had moved just a bit faster...

When he arrived in the gathering chamber, it was to find Laisren unconscious and mortally wounded just inside the door. The young ruler and his spouse both dead on the floor further in, surrounded by other corpses-- both those of the royal knights, and those loyal to the royal's assassin.

The assassin themselves had faded from view before he could even take a step in their direction. And even if he could have challenged them, he would likely have ended up vastly outnumbered. Instead, he took what bodies he could, to give them a proper return to the earth...including Laisren, whose wounds were ultimately too grave for Bleddyn to heal.

After taking some few days to shake his pursuers (he probably shouldn't have outright declared that he would sooner cleave the new ruler's head from their shoulders when he was given the ultimatum to swear himself to them or die. Probably also shouldn't have then slaughtered as many of his captors as he could before running, as opposed to sneaking away as he could have done far more easily.), he finally managed to make his way back to Oleander...where it was decided that, for the prince's safety, he would assume Laisren's identity.

The pair spent a long while running, after that. Trying to avoid those that intended to capture them and bring them before the new ruler. The time wasn't kind to either of them, and it was only when they were eventually found and taken in by a few members of the Otherworld's Tuatha Dé Danann, that they were finally able to catch their breath.

It's in the Otherworlds that they continue to reside now, acting as knights to the Tuath Dé as a way to repay the kindnesses that they were given in their time of need. Though Bleddyn still views his main purpose in life as guarding "Laisren".

He knows that the once prince intends to face the Unseelie's new ruler one day, in hopes of avenging his parents and the real Laisren. As if he could allow the other to do such a thing. Even if "Laisren" were to succeed, that would only serve to drag him into the same position that ultimately killed his parents. He, who still had so much life to yet live, and so much to accomplish.

In comparison, Bleddyn himself had already lived a full life. He had accomplished and experienced much, and outside of protecting and accompanying Laisren, he felt as though there wasn't much else left for him to do. If it would make Laisren safe, and help him to put the past behind him...

It was easy for Bleddyn to take Laisren's goal as his own. One last thing that he could do to break the cycle, and ensure that Laisren could live the sort of life that he deserved to.

And so, that is currently what he is working toward, along with his daily tasks as a personal knight to the Tuath Dé.

[warlordfelwinter]

Tales from the Dancing Sea Dragon

Part One: Dragon Heist

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

--

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

~4k words

--

Celeste was… bored. 

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

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

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

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

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

Eight years. 

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

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

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

Maybe he should eat. He was probably hungry. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

“Late again, Celeste?” he asked. 

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

“Yes, well, you need to—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

Chapter Two

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Tenday Later.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Celeste!” 

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

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

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

“Ohh I should get one, shouldn’t I?” 

“You really should.” 

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

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

Celeste opened his mouth. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[wabblebees]

homophobic how science has yet to invent a haircut for me that lets me wear it long+pretty+femme in a fag way sometimes but Also short+easy+masc in a dyke way other times