#i mean. or maybe he just tried to play orpheus so many different ways and the broadway versions are just how he felt like singing

[faultsofyouth]

Orpheus' off-Broadway epic is WAY better than the official recording

[onenerdtwonagas]

Positive Affirmations

((A while back, somebody asked for the story of the first time Orpheus hypnotized Uriah. I did some thinking on it and I think I finally found the right scenario for it!))

“Are you alright, love?”

Uriah glanced over his shoulder and saw Orpheus looking back at him in the dim moonlight. The human had gotten up, unable to fall asleep, his mind too muddled. He’d carefully untangled himself from the naga’s embrace nearly half an hour before and sat in silence at the edge of his bedding, mindful not to bump any of his coils. Perhaps he hadn’t been cautious enough?

“I didn’t mean to wake you up. I’m sorry,” he apologized, voice quiet.

“You didn’t, but your absence did,” Orpheus yawned, pointed fangs catching the light for a moment as he sat up. He rolled his shoulders and neck with a soft crack before looking to Uriah again. Scales whispered against the furs, blankets, and pillows as Orpheus shifted and slithered, coming to rest behind Uriah and putting his arms around him.

“Come back to bed, love...”

“I will, eventually,” Uriah sighed. “You go ahead. You’re tired.”

“Not without you,” he mumbled. The man could imagine the sleepy pout on the naga’s face. Uriah gave one of his hands a gentle pat as he cuddled closer.

“It’s okay, babe. I...just have a lot on my mind.”

“Hmm? Like what?”

Uriah exhaled slowly and Orpheus rested his cheek in his hair. He felt heavier than usual.

“Orpheus, babe, sleep. You’re gonna doze off on me. I’m fine, really.”

“Mmmmnnnooo,” he drawled stubbornly, “not without you.”

“...You’re really not gonna let it go, are you?”

Orpheus shook his head.

“It feels stupid. I hate you even woke up because of it,” Uriah muttered.

“Tell me anyway. You’ll feel better.”

He sighed, loosely holding on to Orpheus’s arms as he tried to find a comfortable way to voice his thoughts.

“I still deal with a lot of the negative stuff from my ex,” he started slowly, quietly. “Not that he’s in my life at all, because I kicked him out and whatever I couldn’t throw in his bags I got rid of, but the feelings. The bad ones. Thinking I’m not good enough, feeling like I don’t deserve you, that sort of thing.”

Orpheus let out a light but somber hum. He turned over one of his hands to hold Uriah’s and interlocked their fingers. It had only been a month or so since they’d admitted their feelings for one another, but perhaps it was naive of the demigod to assume his sweetheart would recover from a painful relationship in such a short time.

“You know you do deserve better, don’t you?”

“Yeah. But knowing and feeling are two different things.”

“Yes, they are,” he agreed. His thumb brushed over Uriah’s. “Is there some way I could help?”

“What do you mean? Like, play therapist for me?” Uriah let out a weak, halfhearted laugh. “That wouldn’t be fair to you. Should probably see a shrink, though...”

“I don’t know what that is, but I was thinking I could try and do something for you. Maybe I could help you forget?”

“With...hypnosis, I’m guessing?” Uriah asked hesitantly.

“I could, you know,” Orpheus offered.

“...Nah. I don’t think I should forget what happened. Move past it and stop internalizing, but forgetting would mean leaving myself open to that kind of manipulation again,” Uriah reasoned. “Can’t protect myself from something I no longer remember, right?”

Orpheus hummed thoughtfully. He did have a point.

“What about affirmations?”

Uriah turned slightly, looking at Orpheus skeptically.

“You plan on flattering me through this?”

“Flattery is excessive. Affirmation is confirming what is true. I think you could use a dose of truth to clear out those negative falsehoods, don’t you?” he asked, cradling Uriah’s hand between two of his own. “Especially if they’re keeping you from proper rest, love.”

“You...wanna use your hypnosis to try this?”

“Only if you’d permit me.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever used yours on me, before.”

“Does the idea frighten you?”

“No,” he answered slowly, “not really? I-I’ve, uh, let Kenny hypnotize me plenty of times.”

He blushed as Orpheus’s eyebrows rose.

“Oh. So you’re familiar with the sensation, then?”

“I-In one way, at least.” Uriah cleared his throat awkwardly. They sat in a moment of odd silence before Orpheus spoke up again.

“Would you let me try, Uriah? At least a little? I only want to help you feel better.”

Uriah bit his lip and squeezed the back of his neck. Hypnosis had a tendency of getting him wound up. It wasn’t a bad thing, necessarily, but his time with Kenneth had left a bit of a subconscious imprint. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of Orpheus by suddenly getting turned on; they weren’t anywhere near ready for that step in their relationship, as attractive as Uriah thought the demigod to be. But...he trusted Orpheus not to take advantage. Maybe he could try it, at least this one time.

“I...I-I guess we can try it...”

Orpheus smiled sweetly and kissed his forehead before rising and gently guiding Uriah back towards the bed. He pulled his coils close, providing a space for the man in the bend of his tail.

“Come here,” he whispered. “Sit.”

Uriah did as he was told, albeit with some apprehension. He swallowed thickly as Orpheus’s strong coils could be felt against his back and sides, supporting him. It would only take a few moments for him to coil around him completely, if he wanted... To be in such a compromising position with him, and with the consent to hypnosis given—

“You’re letting yourself get flustered,” Orpheus chuckled, gently poking him between his eyebrows. Uriah blinked, bringing himself back to focus. He looked up at Orpheus sheepishly.

“I-I-I’m sorry. Usually with Kenny this is sort of a...a-an intimate thing?”

“I told you I’d take things slow with you, and I meant that. I’ll behave myself, dearest, I promise. You trust me to do that, don’t you?”

He reached out and brushed his fingertips along Uriah’s cheek, sliding them down to trace his jaw. The man nodded slowly.

“Y-Yeah.”

“Good. Give me just a moment to channel it, then.”

Orpheus closed his eyes and breathed slowly for several moments. Uriah remained still, wondering what to expect, caught mid-thought by Orpheus’s eyes opening with a pale blue, moonlike glow. His body tensed instinctively, but Orpheus kept his fingers against his face in a gentle touch.

“Shhh. It’s alright. You’re alright,” he hushed. “Just breathe, Uriah...that’s it...”

There was the initial spark of excitement Uriah had almost been conditioned to feel, but Orpheus’s soothing tone and his instructions reigned it back in quicker than Uriah could truly register it. He blinked at first, his mind naturally wanting to resist, but the calm glow was waiting for him whenever his eyes would open again. And the more Orpheus guided him through his breathing, the more he recognized an almost echo-like quality to his voice. He’d finish one word, and just as its final vibrations would register in Uriah’s mind there was another. Slow, gentle, rippling...

“There we are, good and calm now, aren’t you? That’s better, isn’t it?” Orpheus asked, smiling as he felt Uriah’s body slacken against the supportive coils behind and at his sides. They pulled a little closer, keeping him steady and stable, allowing his strength to leave him completely. Uriah stared back at Orpheus, at his mercy.

“Nn...Orpheus...?”

The naga hushed him, stroking his hair soothingly. Uriah’s eyelids slid a little lower and he sighed in response to the contact.

“Easy. Just relax. I’ve got you... Now, I think we’re ready to try some of those affirmations, hmm?”

Uriah lacked the strength to nod, but he managed a weak, slurred word of consent. Orpheus slid close, leaning over him as he took one of Uriah’s hand in his own.

“I want you to know that I care about you,” he said, speaking softly. “I care about you very much, Uriah. Do you believe me?”

“...Y-yes,” Uriah mumbled.

“Good. I want you to believe me. Many people care about you. You are loved, dearest. Very much so.”

He brought Uriah’s hand up and pressed his lips against the back of his palm. It sent a pleasant warmth down the length of Uriah’s arm, right to his core. It was different from the sensual heat he knew from Kenneth’s hypnosis. This was...calmer. Not any less sincere, but more...what was the word? There was a word for it... He couldn’t remember. The only words his mind could focus on were the ones coming out of Orpheus’s mouth. He felt them just as much as he heard them. They kissed his ears and melted into his mind, anchoring themselves there.

“I’m going to tell you some truths, Uriah. Ones I want you to remember, even if it’s only little by little. Do you think you can do that? Answer me.”

It took a few breaths, but Uriah gained enough control to respond:

“Y-Yes...”

“Good. After each truth, I’m going to use a gesture to help you remember. A simple one.”

He held Uriah’s hand close, stroking across his knuckles.

“I will tell you a truth to remember. The way I touch you will be how you remember. When I touch you, commit it to memory. Do you understand?”

“Nn...mmhmm...”

“Good.”

Orpheus’s smile warmed. He hadn’t used his hypnosis on someone in such a way before; it felt very nice to physically see Uriah so open to suggestions, helpful ones, rather than struggling against the emotional barriers his past experiences had created. They were gone, at least for the moment. He could disturb their foundation this way, give Uriah the tools to shake them up and finally tear them down for good. It was perhaps the best use of his powers to date.

“Now, where to start...”

He thought over it for a moment, and then began in earnest.

“Uriah, you are worthy of others’ time and attention. You deserve more than scraps and spare seconds.”

Orpheus bent his head, turning Uriah’s hand over and kissing the inside of his wrist. The same tingling warmth shivered it’s way into Uriah’s center. He wasn’t sure how to explain it, but Orpheus could see the recognition and obedience flicker across Uriah’s gaze as it reflected his own hypnotic glow back at him. He was remembering, as he was told. Good.

“You deserve to be heard and listened to,” he continued, that time leaning in and kissing the shell of Uriah’s left ear, and then his right. He moved slowly to avoid stirring Uriah from his trance.

“You should always be your fullest self. Never shrink yourself to fit into someone else’s space.”

His lips pressed against Uriah’s chest, just beneath the collar of his shirt. The man let out a soft sound in response, and Orpheus hushed him before continuing.

“Always remember you have a beautiful, brilliant, compassionate mind. No one can take that from you, or belittle it. Believe in your own strength and stability of mind. Nurture it.”

Orpheus cradled Uriah’s face between two hands and kissed his forehead. He could feel Uriah’s slowed breathing against his skin, the warmth radiating off of him, the gentleness emphasized by his current state... He really did adore him.

“And the last truth I want you to remember,” he said quietly, “is that I care for you. I want nothing but the best for you. And that means loving yourself. Love yourself, Uriah. Fully. Unashamedly. Because I do...”

That time, he brought his lips to Uriah’s, lingering longer than the other kisses prior. It wasn’t sexual, or overly passionate, but there was a genuine, sensual intimacy. Orpheus expressed his full affection so that Uriah’s mind would recognize it. When he finally pulled back, Uriah’s glowing eyes were barely open, his expression soft, and a hint of heat on his freckled cheeks. Orpheus stroked the edges of his jaw for a few moments more.

“Remember all of that, Uriah,” he whispered. “Will you?”

“I...Nn...I-I’ll...remember,” he sighed.

“Good. Good boy, Uriah,” Orpheus praised, combing his claws through his hair.

“And now, love, I think you should rest. You can close your eyes and sleep. I’ll be right here, I promise.”

Orpheus told him to rest. He wanted to look at those eyes for a little longer, but the demigod’s words were so strong. And the sensation of his fingers running through his hair was so comforting. Uriah’s vision flickered.

“Sleep, Uriah,” Orpheus repeated, softer, sweeter.

With a sigh, Uriah finally gave out, the obedience instilled by the trance winning over any residual desires or thoughts. His cheek rested against Orpheus’s scales as his breathing deepened and slowed, finally deep under the influence of sleep. Orpheus settled close to him, using his tail to bring the blankets up over Uriah. He watched him for a few minutes, still tracing the very tips of his fingers along Uriah’s cheek, hoping that he’d managed to get through to him. He hadn’t attempted to use his hypnosis in such a way before, but it appeared to have been working in the moment. Closing his eyes and settling in more comfortably beside Uriah, Orpheus decided to leave it up to time to tell if Uriah’s mind would take any of his affirmations seriously.

Morning came peacefully, the dappled rays of light reaching across the floor of Orpheus’s chamber. Uriah’s eyes cracked open, blinking several times to adjust to the daylight. Where was he...? Oh. Right, right, with Orpheus. Those were his scales against him. He hadn’t slept so deeply in a long time; he felt a little stupid, being so under that he forgot where he was.

“Damn,” he mumbled to himself, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes, “I dunno if Kenny’s even gotten me that deep before...”

His hand moved to shove his bangs back, but the moment he touched his forehead he felt a strange, rippling warmth rush through him. Uriah flinched and gasped, staring at his hand. It didn’t look like anything had been done to it... He gingerly touched his head again and felt the same sensation. His brain buzzed for a few seconds. Pleasantly. It wasn’t brain fog, or a headache, it was...almost like remembering something? Uriah blinked in bewilderment.

“What the...?”

Words. Something about words. His mind scrambled as he drug his hand down the side of his face, trying to sort it out. He looked at his right palm again and brought his left to inspect, but the same jarring feeling caught him off guard as he brushed his own wrist. The initial shock wore away and it instead felt...soothing? Uriah brushed his thumb over his wrist, feeling the warmth creep up in several places.

You deserve time...you’re brilliant...love—

Uriah flinched again and shook himself free of the feeling. It was almost hypnotic itself.

“Geez, what in the world...?”

Beside him, Orpheus finally started to stir. The naga was mid-stretch when Uriah leaned over the large coil between them and stared down with wide, flustered eyes.

“H-Hey! What exactly did you do to me?!”

Orpheus opened one eye.

“Good morning to you, too, dearest,” he yawned dryly. “What do you mean?”

“I-I-I’m feeling...things.”

“What?”

“You did something!”

Orpheus propped himself up on one arm and tilted towards Uriah, looking at him with sleep still fading from his eyes.

“Of course I did ‘something.’ I used my powers on you, love.”

“Yeah, but—“

“Hush,” Orpheus pressed, the tip of his tail rising up against Uriah’s lips. There it was again. Orpheus finally saw what Uriah meant as the man faltered, eyes going hazy and unfocused.

“Ah, I see. Hmm... Perhaps I was a little too intense?” he wondered aloud.

Uriah blinked, feeling that warm buzz wash over him. Pleasant. A reminder of...of affection? That felt right, didn’t it? It...seemed right... He could vaguely recall those words that had echoed around in his head...

“Or...O-Orpheus...?”

“Hold on, let me see here,” the naga tutted, gently touching his fingertips to the place on Uriah’s chest he had kissed during the trance. Uriah drew in a breath, eyes actually closing for a moment, overwhelmed by the sensation. It felt like being held, nurtured. Loving himself. Being loved. Feeling whole and content and unbroken. He felt his mind starting to swim in it, until Orpheus retracted his hand and tail—slowly, so as to prevent Uriah from suddenly slipping when coming out of the light trance-like state.

“My apologies, Uriah. Seems I might’ve overdone it just a bit. The immediate effects will wane, though; it won’t be as strong in a day or two.”

“W-What is it you did, exactly?” Uriah asked, much calmer than he had been a few minutes before.

“I used contact to help secure some of the affirmations to your subconscious,” he explained, shrugging as if it were common sense. Uriah stared at him. Orpheus cleared his throat and tried again.

“I used physical affection to bind the memory of my words to you. Positive touch, positive thoughts. Did they come to you just now?”

“Yeah, a-after a few seconds,” Uriah admitted. “It’s just...uh...a little strange to get used to...”

“The sensation, or thinking positively about yourself?”

Uriah instinctively bit his lip to think, but that triggered the sensation again. He released with a short gasp. Orpheus reached forward and placed his hand against his face, purposefully stroking his thumb across Uriah’s mouth. A shiver ran down his spine, but he mustered up the will to speak.

“H-H-Hey. Easy.”

Orpheus smiled.

“It will wane,” he repeated, “but I hope the thoughts stay. I want you to feel better, to know how special you are.”

“As w-weird as it is, I... I appreciate it,” Uriah thanked him, blushing shyly. They remained still together for a moment, listening to the ambient sounds of the birdsong and rustling of leaves in the morning air.

“Hey, uh... What all did you put in my head?”

“I think you’ll have more fun if you find out for yourself,” Orpheus teased.

“At least tell me one?”

“Oh, very well. Which would you like to know?”

“Maybe...?” He pointed up at his lips, too flustered to say it. Orpheus’s grin widened.

“Love. Pure affection, for yourself from inside and out.”

“Oh.”

That was...surprisingly sweet and genuine. Nothing overly sexual from Orpheus? He had expected at least a little teasing, maybe, but knowing he had stuck to his promise to behave made the warmth in his chest return. The demigod didn’t ask him to change; he made room for him, instead, no ‘shrinkage’ required.

“Can... Can I get another one of those?” Uriah asked, referring to the touch to his lips. His face was growing red. “Y-Y’know, just so I remember right...?”

“You certainly can,” Orpheus purred, leaning close. Uriah didn’t flinch away or tense as he felt the naga’s lips against his own. The warmth that radiated through him felt twofold. And for the first time in at least a year, he allowed himself to think: I deserve this.

[joyfulsongbird]

i love you

this was supposed to be a part of a larger series but here. take some modern au orphydice fluff at midnight <3

***

It’s so easy to say I love you.

Eurydice realizes this slowly. Over a stretch of time that feels far too long to realize something so simple. She’s always been afraid of those words. What if, when she said it, it didn’t feel right, or it wasn’t the right moment, or she didn’t really mean it? The world is complicated and the idea of love itself felt like just another layer of fear to add to all relationships. Far easier to just never say it or to wait as long as possible, to avoid making a mistake.

But she finds that she has said “I love you” so many times without knowing it.

*

The first time is after a long day at her work, and she’d come stumbling home in the dark. The apartment is pitch black, not a single light on, and she knows Orpheus is already asleep. Pushing down her disappointment, she stumbles to the couch and flops face forwards onto the cushions. He had already been gone this morning when she’d woken up, though there was a text on her phone wishing her a good day that made her smile, but she wanted to see him, wanted to hold him when it wasn’t already nighttime and they were both exhausted. Her bones ache and her fingers are stiff from the autumn air… the pillows smell like him. She can imagine him, lying here watching one of his movies, mouthing along to Singin’ In The Rain or some other oldy. The image makes her smile and she rolls onto her back, sighing audibly as she stares up at the dark ceiling. Their neighbors upstairs must be asleep too, sometimes she can hear their footsteps in nights where she can’t sleep. They’ve met the older couple a few times, mostly in passing. The woman, Persephone, gave them a welcome card when they first moved in. It’s still hanging on the fridge.

Finally, she gathers the energy to push herself off the couch and walks quietly to the kitchen. Before looking in any of the cabinets for food she knows isn’t there, she leans against the counter, scrolling through her phone, looking at pictures and texts from throughout the day, distracting herself from the gnawing hunger in her stomach and the exhaustion behind her eyes. It’s only when she reaches the text from Orpheus that she had gotten around noon that day, reminding her to eat lunch and several heart emojis, that she cements herself to get dinner. She can just hear him, his voice tinged with worry, “Eurydice, you gotta remember to eat! It’s important!” Even just the thought of his worry and slight disappointment at her lack of self care is enough to get to open the fridge and flip on a light in the kitchen.

To her surprise, sitting on the first shelf is a plate, covered in fogged plastic wrap. With a post-it on top that when she pulls it off, reads “don’t forget, see you in the morning <3”. She can’t help but smile to herself, pulling the plate out and feeling a warm buzzing in her chest that can only come from him. She has only ever felt this way around her Orpheus; when he takes her hand while they’re walking and squeezes it twice, when he hugs her from behind and rests his head on top of her head. The intimacy of such a simple gesture makes her feeling infinitely better, pulling the plastic wrap off of the plate of roasted vegetables and chicken that Orpheus must’ve made for dinner that night. A nicer meal than they’re used to and she wonders if he had been expecting her back sooner, if he had been preparing a surprise dinner of some sort. Either way, the plate is piled high and she eats it slowly, wanting to savor every bite.

She can see the night outside the window, the stars hidden by the treeline but she can faintly see the glow of the moon. Casting a soft gray glow over their porch. It’s a peaceful night, the wind isn’t too strong especially for an autumn night, and the air around her feels peaceful, each breath feels the same. Light and fresh.

When she’s done, she washes the plate and dries it, carefully placing it back in their cupboards, careful not to make too much noise. It looks like he did the dishes too, it’s the least she can do since it seems like he did so much while she was out. She gets the idea from the intense cleanliness of their apartment that he might have been anxious. After living with him for about half a year at this point, she has become very comfortable with the different sides of anxious Orpheus. How he cleans when he worries, how he’ll write music when the world gets too overwhelming, so many little habits too that would take hours to name. It feels like she knows him both inside and out and not at all at the exact same time. She knows exactly how he looked when he was washing the dishes, but she could not for the life of her figure out what goes on in his head half the time. His thoughts are foreign to her, and when he voices them, she can’t help but melt at the dreamish nature that he exists in all the time.

“Our honeymoon should be at the ocean.” he’ll say out of the blue (even though they aren’t even engaged).

“Do you ever think about how there are billions of people we’ll never meet?” he’d ask.

And he sings. Oh, he sings all the time. Under his breath, it always seems like there is a song playing perpetually in his mind. She tries to convince herself at times that it gets a little too much, that anyone who dreams that much and sings that much cannot be connected with reality, but she knows she’s lying to herself. She’s jealous of him, most of the time. She wishes she could exist like that, able to disconnect from reality and paint a picture in her mind of some other place. Travel to a different realm outside of this chaos they live in.

When she’s climbing into bed, she doesn’t expect for him to be awake but nevertheless, he shifts softly and opens his arms, which she climbs into. He’s half asleep, she can tell, and slipping away into whatever dreams he has at night but she pauses for a moment, looking over at him. The moonlight from their window makes his skin glow and his eyelashes appear to be made of dark chocolate and gold. She’s always known he’s beautiful but sometimes it hits her all over again, this is her life. He’s a part of her life. And she never wants him to leave. In these quiet moments she wants to say so much.

“Thank you.” is what she whispers quietly into his chest.

“Mm, for what?” his words are slurred with sleep.

“For leaving me dinner. For making sure I eat. For being there for me.” she murmurs, fluttering her eyes closed. It feels as if they’ve had this conversation a dozen times over, like they’ve thanked each other for existing over and over.

“You’re welcome,” he murmurs into her hair. “Night, ‘rydice.”

Goodnight. I love you.

Her mind fills it in easily enough, but with her eyes closed and Orpheus heartbeat in her ears, she can’t seem to bring those words past her lips. He’s said it to her before, and she’s told him that she’s too scared, that she’s not real, and he hasn’t pressured her. He’s loved her from the start, and moved much faster than she was comfortable with but it’s been so long… maybe he’s wondering if she really does love him. But she does. Gods, she does. Orpheus says “I love you” every day, in the smallest ways possible. She can recognize them more and more, the way he did tonight, showing her love in a soft, domestic way she has never known. He didn’t need to say it.

She should be able to.

[june2734]

The Short Lived Golden Age of Nerdy Web Shows

There was a time between the years of, let's say, 2007 to 2015 that I like to call the golden age of nerdy web shows. It consisted of a lot of small low to no budget productions that had a lot of heart, the kind you just don't see very often anymore for some reason. Many of these show have found a dedicated home on streaming services like The Fantasy Network, some have even gained enough steam to be featured on big name services like Netflix and Amazon like The Guild and LARPs The series respectively. I'm not exactly sure why the web show trend died out so hard, maybe the crowds just aren't there for them anymore like they use to be with some many pieces of high budget productions on streaming services vying for their attention. Every once and a while I'll jump onto Google to try and find new web shows that have that same heart and feel but rarely if ever do I come up with anything. As far as I can tell the only place new nerdy low to mid budget web shows or films gets any attention is at GenCon or small streaming services like The Fantasy Network. Who knows if there will ever be another nerdy heartfelt web show created that captures the spirit of those old series I hold so dear to my heart, but regardless if it happens or not I'd like to bring some attention to a few of my favorites. They may be old by the standards of the internet and maybe even cheesy by today's standards, but I really think they were something special and if you give them a shot maybe you'll think so too. If you have any others that you think would fit in with shows like this feel free to let me know.

The Gamers: Hands Of Fate

Zombie Orpheus Entertainment use to be one of my favorite channels for nerdy fantasy related content back in the day. You could always see the quality and passion that they put into every piece of content they out out on their channel. They're still around today but they've shifted their focus to other ventures such as the ever popular trend of live streaming table top games rather then making scripted content. That being said their old stuff is still well worth a watch and The Gamers series, particularly The Gamers: Hands of Fate, is some of their best work they’ve ever put out. The series centers around a group of table top gamers(the same that can be found in most of the other The Gamers creations by ZOE), particularly the character by the name of Cass, as he steps into the world of one extremely popular card game hopes of impressing a woman who's a huge fan of it. But this is seemingly simple premise is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to this series. The show also features a secondary narrative that involves the characters that actually exist in the card game as as the players decisions in the real world effect their lives and leads one character, Buckstahue(not sure if I’m spelling that right), in particular to start questioning what mysterious forces are controlling their lives. The show is a real treat filled with twists and turns I never saw coming, it's fascinating seeing how the real world actions of this card game effects the card characters lives as well as question if and when Buckstahue will figure out what strings control her actions. The stories surrounding the other characters in the party might not be as engaging but they are by no means a weak point of the series either, many of their subplots are engaging in their own rights and pay off certain character moments established in proper The Gamers creations. If this peaks your interest then the series can still be found on Zombie Orpheus's Youtube channel or as a movie on The Fantasy Network. ZOE had pivoted more towards live streaming as opposed to the scripted content of their past but I'd love to see more content from The Gamers one day. Source

LARPs The Series

LARPs The Series first premiered at GenCon 2014 and took home the award for Best Independent Series. The year after it was picked up by Geek and Sundry as a part of a push for more scripted content on the channel which was where I and many others first got a chance to watch it. When the short trailer for popped up on the G&S channel everything about it screamed that I was absolutely going to love it, and I wasn’t wrong. The series centers around a 4 man party of larpers (AKA Live Action Role Players) by the names of Will, Brittany, Arthur and Sam and their DM (Dungeon Master) Evan as we follow their lives in and out of the game. The show is surprisingly heartfelt and sympathetic towards the characters involved in this often misunderstood and mocked hobby as it shows how larping enriches their often turbulent lives and connects them all as friends on a deep and meaningful level. These characters felt real and you really rooted for them as they deal with, work, relationships and the many other hurtles of adult life as they wait eagerly to gear up for whatever peril might befall them in their next campaign session. The show was also pretty hilarious, seeing them play out classic predicaments that any party, whether they be larpers or table top roleplayers, have experienced such as one player trying to roll to kill a tavern owner or romances between PCs were always a joy to watch unfold.  Another thing that most will notice right away is how the production value and direction are surprisingly astounding as well, especially in season 2. I was shocked by just how much quality was put into the show from the costumes and sets as well as from a writing standpoint. If you're interested in checking out the show then it can be found on Amazon Prime but they can also still be viewed for free on YouTube or in The Fantasy Network. Beanduck, the production company behind LARPs The series, is working towards a funding campaign in hopes of earning enough to produce a third season so if you have any spare change you might want to toss it their way in support. Regardless if you decide to help or not, LARPs The Series is a show that I think any nerdy individual will enjoy. Source

Glitch

Glitch was another show produced by the team over at Zombie Orpheus Entertainment, but it never seemed to get the same kind of love as many of their other productions. The concept was brilliant: What if one day you woke up and found out your life operated on the logic of video games? Well this is the predicament that a programing temp nicknamed Glitch finds himself in. Most episodes of the show centered around particular game mechanics causing problems in his and his friends lives and how he tries to figure out ways to work around or fix problems they've created. Glitch, Wyatt and Samus were all fantastic characters and it was always fun seeing Glitch trying to work through some real world problem with game logic like trying to flirt with a woman he likes using a conversation wheel like in Mass Effect or figuring out how to "defeat" his boss at work who he see's as an actual game boss. Another thing I liked about the show was how the characters really felt like real people I knew, they played games on the couch, debated about which Sci-Fi starship captains were the best, and they grilled each other in nerdy ways while working in slang from their favorite bits of nerd culture into their daily vocabulary. I always hoped that ZOE would eventually put out a second season but unfortunately for whatever reason that never became a reality. Now days the channel that originally hosted Glitch has changed their name to Burger Orchard and rarely if ever uploads anything, but luckily those original episodes of Glitch can still be found on their. Give it a watch, it's short but sweet and if you really enjoyed the show a lot there are little companion shorts that can also be found on the channel. Source

The Street Fighter

The Game Station was an early find for me back in my early college days, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I shaved away many hours watching all kinds of gaming related content on that channel instead of studying for exams. One production, created by one of the channels founders Layne Pavoggi, which came out in late 2011 and was a cut above much their already fantastic content was a short lived series was called The Street Fighter. The series centered around a single dad by the name of Phil who has just lost his job and decides to take up a short career as a professional Street Fighter player to provide for his son as well as keep his mind off of the stressful and highly competitive job market. This a real underdog story that’s extremely reminiscent of old sports 80s films where the protagonist has everything working against them, with that being said you might think that such a trope filled narrative would make things a little predictable and you wouldn’t be wrong but there’s still plenty to love since this concept has really never been explored with videogame to my knowledge. Phil is a guy you’d be hard pressed not to warm up to, especially when you see him interacting with his preteen son Ryan or his best friend/semi love interest Camile (played by former All That star and all around spectacular person Lisa Foiles). Seeing him trying to make his way into the job market, taking odd jobs here and there just to try and get by while also playing Street Fighter to destress and become better for the sake of winning a competition for money to support his son really makes to root for him through all of it. One aspect of the show that I really this is fantastic is how it feels truly authentic to the FGC (Fighting Game Community) when it comes to talking about all of the technical aspects of play Street Fighter on a competitive level. There are moments when Phil goes into detail about his “bread and butter” combos or talks about different strategies when it comes to taking on different characters compared to his main. The show was short lived but it can still be found on The Game Stations channel, if you’re looking for a heartfelt underdog story then I highly recommend giving The Street Fighter a shot. Source

Versus Valerie

Versus Valerie is a bit of series finale for a fictional character created by Hannah Spear for the character more commonly known as the Sexy Nerd Girl on her YouTube channel. Even if you didn't watch the characters vlogs over the years leading up to the web series I still think you'll find something to enjoy in this extremely charming show. It centers around Valerie Lapomme, the titular Sexy Nerd Girl, as she lives life hanging out with with her best friend Guy, shopping for comic books, going on dates, vlogging, and trying to make something of herself as a mid 20 something living in Toronto. The brilliant thing about this series is how each episode is structured like or makes homage to popular shows, films and games such as Star Wars, Doctor Who, Memento, and The Matrix just to name a few. On top of that the show is surprisingly well produced and written for something that spawned from a fictional vlog series, Valarie and Guy are much more fleshed out and all the characters including them have some really fantastic character arcs and moments in the show. Valerie’s awkwardness and extremely nerdy imagination felt embracingly relatable to me personally since I often imagine different situations in my life in relation to my own nerdy fandoms. What I was often taken aback by when I first watched the show years ago was just how enjoyable all of the episodes were in their own special way, and the pay off of it all really feels like a proper satisfying ending to the strange and imaginative journey we’ve been on with Valerie. If it peaks your interest at all then you can still find the full series on the Veruse Valerie YouTube channel as well as some of the vlogs prior to the series on the Sexy Nerd Girl channel as well. It’s well worth a viewing and aside from the fantastic lead characters of Guy and Valerie the show also managed to grab Mark Meer as a supporting character, aka the voice of COMMANDER MOTHER F^*$(^% SHEPARD BABY!!!  Source

[acequeenking]

Hadestober 11

11) Wind comes up – Orpheus looks back, and falls apart. Hermes picks up the pieces. (Hermes & Orpheus, Hermes & the Fates)

Orpheus looks back. Hermes expects it, knows that the penny falls with his face turned back every single time, thus far. Knows this time is not any different. Still disappointed though, and for all the practice he has at this – frankly, too much – it doesn’t get any easier to comfort Orpheus through this long walk home.

“C’mon, kid,” he says, soft, because kid, what he used to call him back when Orpheus really was a kid, seems to stir Orpheus forward more.

“Eurydice,” he says; he always says. No matter how many times they’ve told the tale, he starts with the word Eurydice here, after the girl’s gone straight down to Hades’ waiting arms.

“Not now,” he says. He grabs Orpheus’ arm, tugs him forward. “Got to keep on keeping on.”

“I have to go back!” Orpheus wrenches his arm away, turns, runs down the alley for an entrance that’s no longer there. Hermes always tries to spare the boy and not once have his efforts ever amounted to anything and lord father above knows he has tried every god damn trick in the book to try to get his attention.

“You can’t.” He hates saying this, hates the way Orpheus looks at him: all slack jawed horror. “There’s rules. Living man can’t enter Hadestown twice.” Technically, living wasn’t supposed to enter it once at all, but demi-gods before Orpheus had forced Hades into some concessions. Namely: one shot at glory in the underworld. Rarely seemed to work out well.

“Does that mean…?” He watches Orpheus do the math in his own head. Orpheus isn’t a dumb boy; he figures out quickly that Eurydice only had one shot. Entered once living, once dead – she’s done. “Oh, Eurydice.”

This is the part that Hermes hates the most.

Orpheus bursts into tears, ugly and loud and wet. Thousands of years of life have somewhat blunted Hermes’ ability to feel so passionately – one gets more even-keeled as they get older, why even lord father above cooled his jets after a few years. Even sister Persephone, for all her passions – and she’s kept herself passionate better than most – even she didn’t start to cry when her husband started making motions as regards Eurydice and never has, not in the ridiculous amount of times that they’ve played this song. Thousands of years of life just tends to blunt one’s capacity for suffering, so seeing it written so loud and so painfully on Orpheus face just makes his job all the harder.

“Come on, kid,” Hermes murmurs; he opens his arms. They are not so affectionate so often anymore, now that Orpheus is a grown man, but today he opens his arms and today Orpheus flies into them.

“There there,” he says, soft. “It’s alright.”

But it isn’t, and he knows it isn’t. And despite all the ways that Hermes has attempted to change fate, playing out this story, it still doesn’t sting any less when Orpheus makes little gasps of grief on his shoulder, soaking it with his tears. Regrets? Hermes would tell you he has more than a few, and none so much as this moment.

And that is why despite telling Orpheus that it is a test and a trial, and warning him of the consequences thereof, Hermes finds himself, as always, after comforting him enough to get him back to the bar, sitting and sipping his sorrows, well, Hermes finds himself back on that hateful train, going down and back again to the ‘yonder side where the Fates themselves live.

Because Hermes himself is a powerful god, sure, but he is nothing in the sight of his child’s tears, and he would do anything to stop Orpheus from feeling the way he does.

That’s the other thing that happens when you live a long, long time: you understand loss pretty well.

And even for those who flirt between the worlds like Mr. Hermes himself, well, it never does get easier.

But, as usual, he gets his silver tongue to get him where he needs to go. Gets Mr. Hades to sign away his deed to the girl; gets himself past Hadestown and past Hades proper, and into the deepest and darkest sides of the world under the world.

The fates live in a part of the underworld best unseen; Hermes isn’t sure just how many gods can even reach it, anyway. Hades himself isn’t the sort to come see them, never was the kind to want to know the inevitable result of his actions. Pa used to be the sort to check in on ‘em, but they never gave Pa answers clear enough for his taste. Uncle earthshaker used to come by, once or twice, but ultimately found them boring. There’s things we’re not meant to know, he’d said, and everyone had laughed at that old banquet, long ago, but Hermes – now Hermes sees the wisdom old uncle held. He hates this place.

It is ugly and dank and old, unfathomably old. Smells like the sort of place where time is still new because time is always new. Looks like a place full of magic because it is a place full of magic. Hermes is pretty sure if he sat in the wrong place here, he’d forget his name for a thousand years and good father above alone knows what they would do with him. It is windy because – well, for whatever reason, the Fates like it windy. It reminds him that the winds are old gods, older than him, older than Hades. And so are the fates. It reminds him that there was a war, long before he was born. It reminds him that they were on opposite sides of it.

And perhaps their kind has not forgotten losing.

The ancient fates notice him quickly, as they always have. Hermes having his pride – not a lot but some – he refuses to give them any sort of welcome greeting. They are long beyond such anyway.

“Ah, he’s back,” says the first fate. She is grinning, red-cheeked, still flushed in her victory over Orpheus, over Eurydice.

“Did you enjoy that go?” Says fate number two, her tone mocking.

“Nothing ever changes,” says fate number three, in her voice full of the finality of the heat death of the universe. She looks at him and he wonders: what does it do to a person’s point of view to see the end of all things, forever? “Do you wish to go through the whole passion play again?”

Hermes nods, steels his expression into one that is severe. Old women like this smell weakness a mile off, and he’ll not tolerate them raising the price or refusing to help them. Always a delicate dance, dealing with gods older than the Olympians. “That’s right,” he says. Flatly. They’ll do it. They always do.

“Why bother?” Says fate three. “It will not change the result.”

“You’d think he’d learn that by now,” says fate number two. “Himself having seen this show so many times.”

“Maybe he’s slow-witted,” says fate number one. She stands up to him, gently raps her little knuckle against his brow. “Slugs for brains.”

“Fate can change,” he says. “From one fickle tip of your turban, my ladies, well, empires will rise.” He takes fate number one’s hand, kisses er palm. She titters, amused, as always. Romance is always the key to charming fate number one.

“And fall,” interrupts fate number three, hands on her hips. “There’s always a cost.”

Ah, he is fortunate. They’re moving into negotiations quickly this time. Sometimes he must woo each of the Fates for hours on end. Today the game has lost its luster. Ideally, their turning time back for him never will.

“I will pay the cost,” he says, already knowing they will ask for a feather. It’s all they’ve ever asked for. He is not quite certain why it is always a feather. Possibly because it hurts him. Possibly because every time he seems the damn girl, she’s got a feather tucked somewhere, and they enjoy giving him the reminder.

“Can’t afford to pay too much more,” says the first fate, holding out his arm. They never let him pick the feather; that being some of their ways that they work. He isn’t sure how he could cheat them, but whatever. He gets his own revenge; he won’t refer to them by name, even though he knows perfectly well which fate is which.

“Gotta accept it, sooner or later.” The third fate – the last fate – says. She is just watching. She will pluck, but not until fate number two selects it.

“Nothing ever changes,” says fate two. She runs her hands through his remaining feathers, threadbare as they are on this suit. Not sure if they’ll accept one of his other suits after this, but hell, maybe if they’re lucky they won’t need that, and he’s always been a sucker for the idea that penny will land, just once, on the right side. “Why do you persist?”

“Because the wind’s cold,” he says. “Because the world is harsh enough. Because I love my son.” Do the sisters love one another? Do they understand love? Sometimes he thinks they do. Sometimes he’s not so sure.

“Hmph.” The third fate does not like criticism. She grabs the feather the second has taken and plucks it, and he feels it go; the tell-tale feel of his stomach turning, half-nervous and half-eager to have it all be over, to have it all start again.

“Much obliged, ladies,” he calls.

“See you next time,” says the first, implying there will be.

“See you soon,” says the second, smiling slyly as she takes her repose next to her sister.

“See you on the other side,” says the third, waving sarcastically.

He doesn’t bother to answer. Hermes puts his hands in his pockets and completes the trip back to the surface, knowing that the girl will be there, and he will let her back in from the cold, and time being what it is will start once more.

But he feels lucky this time, and even with one feather down, well, Hermes keeps on hoping maybe this will be it. They’ll get it right, he thinks. They’ll get it. Won’t allow himself to think anything else.

And Mr. Hermes readies himself as he goes, so that by the time he’s coming off that train, he’s willing to sing it again, and again, and again.

[okimargarvez]

REVERSE - 21

Original title: Reverse.

Prompt: Penelope is the new girl on the BAU team and Luke tries to treat her cold.

Warning: A.U., possible OOC.

Genre: drama, romantic, family, friendship.

Characters: Luke Alvez, Penelope Garcia, BAU team, Derek Morgan, O.C. Sam Cooper’ team, Roxy.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot 62 in Garvez collection.

Legend: 💑😘👓🔦🐶❗🎲🎈👻🎬🎵.

Song mentioned: Amici per errore, Tiziano Ferro.

Reverse- Masterlist

GARVEZ STORIES

This part is dedicated to @londonrosebooklovingwitch and @inlovewithgarvaz ^^

21 # It's another journey, put it in this way...

It is another hug to upset the balance laboriously reached by Agent Alvez. However, the female protagonist is different. He is drinking a coffee when he recognizes the sound of those steps. Low-heeled shoes. Since she became a mother, this is the best she can afford. How many times has she complained to JJ and the two laughed at it, together. He looks up at her but shakes his head in disbelief. It must be a vision. She is beautiful, dressed entirely in various shades of gray, trousers, naturally; she never loved skirts. The first thing he notices, when he realizes that she is real, is that she has cut her hair. Then she literally jumps on him. -Luke, oh God, Luke, you are okay!- she hugs him so tight that it takes his breath away. He does the same, feeling safe, serene, stretching his nostrils to pick up her scent... that has changed. He strokes her back, then gently detaches her from himself. However, she instantly kidnaps his hand.

-Of course, I'm fine, but what are you doing here?- Chrissie nails her nails into the soft flesh of his palm. -Not that I want to complain...- here, already better, her clear, cerulean eyes seem to warn him. She finally leaves him free. Not that he wanted it, as he said... it's just that it's strange. He struggled to get used to her absence.

-I received a message from Emily telling me that you had been injured and you were very serious.- she says, starting to breathe normally, now that she is sure that he is well. If he hadn't been so fond of risking, of being on the front line, perhaps she would have hesitated a little more. -I called you and you didn't answer.- Luke lifts his cell phone, screen black. She shakes her head. He will never learn to use chargers correctly. -I ran to Quantico, even if there was something that didn’t convince me...- or rather, precisely because there was something unclear. Why pretend she doesn't miss working for BAU?

The brunette lifts her phone and shows him the text message, as well as the sender. She leans against him, naturally. It is certainly not the first time and Rich has learned not to be jealous of it. Because then it seems... no, wrong would be a blasphemy. But it's not strange either, the right adjective. It's different. But it should be there another woman so calmly in his arms. He knows exactly who, but he'll continue to play the role of the dumb, at least for a little while longer. -No, it's better to discuss it with the rest of the team.- this time he's taking her by the hand. -Come on.- they cross the bullpen.

A cry is heard from the balcony, where the offices of the highest members are located. -Christine!- the woman runs down the stairs. Luke smiles, witnessing the repatriation.

-Emily!- another hug. -You really deserved to become the boss, I've always seen you well in the leadership roles.- the two immediately begin to chuckle, as if it were not true that they haven't seen each other for years. -JJ, my beloved blonde.- the former expert in communications with the press and media joins them.

-Chri, how nice to have you here!- comments the latter, with shining eyes.

She is much more cold; she always has been. So deeply similar to him, so deeply opposed to... -Same.- she then turns to the other man. -Rossi...- who shakes his head, dragging her into his arms.

-My little mouse who is too busy to write to me...- it is an affectionate rebuke.

She smiles and shrugs. -I'm sorry, I’m guilty.- she declares. One person is still missing, except for Spencer who cannot be present, even if he is finally out of prison. A nice relief. - Tara, how's your brother?- she asks.

She knew what happened in these months even though she wasn't here, mentally notes Luke. -Better, thank you and your Lise?- the pride of a mother paints her face.

-Oh, it's a little monster, she makes us despair, Rich and I don't sleep for more than two hours in a row...- only one can really understand her. It is she who comments.

-But it's still worth it, isn't it?- only then the man realizes that Garcia, Penelope, deliberately remained on the sidelines, probably feeling excluded from that parenthesis of joy. He can't help feeling a wave of sadness, but he doesn't do anything to change things. Stephanie is distant too, but she seems less affected by the whole thing.

-Every day.- she answers, becoming serious. Then she shows the same message to others.

Prentiss forces herself to take matters into her own hands. -Unfortunately, Christine is not here for a pleasure visit.- she says and everyone goes to the round table room (as Reid's mother had called it the first time she entered, after all she was an English literature teacher). Penelope comes in last.

Christine sighs, preparing to explain. -I received a message from Prentiss that made me believe that Alvez was injured during a mission.- she senses everyone's eyes on himself. She was no longer used to it, but it's a good feeling. -Someone must have hacked her cell phone and since I made it 99% secure, as much as mine... It must be a genius in my field.- she concludes.

-Seems like the typical skill of Scratch.- Walker reflects aloud.

Luke nods. -Unfortunately, Chri was unable to trace the address from which the hacking was carried out.- the blonde with glasses tries not to focus on the amber hand that is affectionately stroking his best friend's arm.

She sighs, seeing that nobody takes the floor. -I could try to give you help... Together we will surely make it.- she smiles, but looks only at the woman.

-Penelope Garcia, right?- she approaches her, to shake her hand. - It's like meeting my favorite Rockstar.- here she managed to make her blush. She hears giggles, one is Luke's. -It's nice to meet you, although I would have preferred a different circumstance...- she nods. They are so different that it’s impressive. Agent Alvez seems to be living in a parallel reality. His best friend and his... his nothing.

-Same.- she gives her an open smile. And then, she says it. -I've heard a lot about you.- with that cheeky tone. Chrissie glances over her shoulder.

She purses her lips in an amused grimace. -I bet I can guess the source.- Garcia laughs at her joke. He knew they would like each other. It was so obvious.

But it still bothers him that they joke in common on him. It is too strange. -Could we go back to Scratch?- he asks, sounding a little too desperate.

Emily gives him a hand, for other reasons. -Well, now we'll leave Christine and Garcia to work at the address.- the two nod in sync. Then she spreads her arms. -We can't do anything else.- all of them go out, except the nominated ones.

Christine touches her shoulder. -Can I be excused, Penelope?- the blonde nods. She closes her eyes once, driving away the tears. She knows perfectly well where (by whom) she is going.

She finds him exactly where she had imagined. On the balcony, watching the weather become progressively wintery. Luke turns to look at her. -Hey, honey, shouldn't you take care of the source?- his tone is sweet. She nods.

-Yes, but I must also tell you something else and I am sure Penelope will be well for five minutes.- as she could do it all alone, but she doesn’t add it.

He takes a moment. -She's not as good as you are.- he says stubbornly. Chrissie shakes her head in open disagreement.

She points a finger at him, accusingly. -Here, you see, that was what I wanted to say.- he swallows. -Em' and JJ told me.- here's the real source, thinks a crazy part of his brain, trying to escape from the moment of truth. -Don't you think you could be a little nicer to her?- there is no self-control when he is with her. He opens his mouth wide like a teenager caught smoking marijuana by his parents. -Come on, did you see her well? She is a ray of sunshine, the most sensitive and affectionate person in the Bureau, if not the entire universe.- he rolls his eyes, annoyed by the fact that she is so much right, yet this is not enough for him.

He sighs, before making his admission. -Yes, but... She's not you.- she nods.

-One more reason to do it.- she pushes him amicably. -Luke, you know I miss you very much too, but I saw how you look at her, you know? And how she looks at you.- and it's not even her specialization, analyzing people's behavior. -I don't need to be a profiler.- she reads his mind.

This doesn’t mean that he will give up without a fight. -You won't want to insinuate... No!- he shouts, frightening a sparrow resting on the ledge. -I can hardly stand her, she with all those trinkets on her wrists, on her hands, that golden hair and her inappropriate and out of place jokes...- Christine shakes her head, giving him a (weak) punch on the chest.

-Alvez, you really are a fool about women.- it wasn’t the first time she told him. -Do as you like, now I have to go back to the office.- she starts and then stops, turning to look at him. -But you know that you're throwing a wonderful opportunity in the toilet... And all because she took my place.- she loves her refined way of expressing herself. As Orpheus should have done to bring his beloved Eurydice back to the world of the living, she doesn’t look back. As soon as she enters the round room, Garcia gestures for her to join her.

She indicates the screen. -Hey, maybe I found a way around that block.- she says shyly. She is quite convinced that much of the blame lies with that idiot of her best friend. But if he thinks she will sit idly...

-Penelope, you are a true genius.- she gives her a quick hug.

-Thanks, I...- she hesitates. -I'm going to tell the others.- Christine gives her the approval. It is up to her now. Just two minutes and everyone is there again, even the jerk.

-Now we can catch him.- Emily announces. -Wheels up in 5.- the strength of habit prevails, even when it is not necessary to use the jet, as in this case. He goes out, followed by the rest of the team. Even Chrissie is preparing to imitate them.

A hand around her wrist stops her. -Hey, where are you going?- she smiles.

-Lise and Richard are waiting for me.- she observes him nodding. -I just wanna say hello to Reid, I'm so mad that he didn't tell me anything about what he went through, even if I understand it, in a way.- they hug. She places her head on his chest. Facilitated by her tallness and by not wearing high shoes. -Try not to get yourself killed, okay?- she whispers.

And Luke replies with the same sentence as always. -I'll do.- she comes off first.

-Luke, you have three minutes.- she winks at him, pointing to the watch on his wrist, before disappearing into an elevator. He sighs, shakes his head, still feeling her perfume... but it's the wrong one. As he walks with the intention of preparing himself, he is caught by a sort of vision, which however in his head he renames as a presentiment. He sees himself dead, a corpse on the asphalt, thrown away by a terrible accident, but he is much higher, he is pure spirit and is tormented by a single regret. Die without ever knowing. His feet quickly change direction, while the awareness of not having enough time grows. He reaches the security door and opens it wide. Penelope is there, curled up on herself in an almost fetal position, her face covered with her hands and her hair's a little messy. For the first time, he doesn't give a damn about how she is dressed and her accessories. He no longer needs that spiel to stay. He observes her body shaken by sobs, hearing her groans of pain.

He clears his throat. -Garcia. What... Why are you crying?- she lifts her head, not masking the tracks. Big tears run across her cheeks. He stretches out his hand with the intention of drying them, but remains so, without completing the gesture.

However, she doesn't mind. -I'm... I'm just afraid.- she squeezes her hands until she cut herself with her fingernails and make blood come out. He doesn't seem to notice this either. A red spot adds to the colors of her dress. -I wish I hadn't found that damned address.- she confess. She certainly never held back as much as he did, but this, of course, is her moment of total openness. -I'm afraid something bad might happen to you all.- she adds, while the lower lip begins to tremble. Luke takes another step in her direction.

-You know it can happen every time we get out of here.- he points out, but his tone is low, calm, not to blame or as if to tell her to open her eyes and notice where they are. He is definitely late. If they don't wait for him, it must have been the fault of fate.

Penelope echoes him. He can no longer think of her as Garcia. Not only. -I know.- she hugs herself, but it is his arms that should comfort her. -Fears are not rational.- he nods. She stands up, taking off her glasses and wiping her face with a tissue. -What are you doing here? Aren't you going to leave?- she asks. She is trying to get rid of him. A step. Another. Another one. One more.

-Yeah.- he's practically on her. -I just needed to do one thing first.- he sees with the eyes of his mind Chrissie and his abuela cheering. -You never know.- he slowly approaches his face, lowering himself. She is hardly breathing, probably considers it more likely he is about to slap her, rather than what is about to happen. She finds partial confirmation when she sees him raise his hands, which however rest on her face, still wet and red. He scrutinizes her reaction for a moment, then nods to himself, bends over what little separates their lips and kisses her. He doesn't give her many seconds to kiss him back. Maybe he still has time to reach out to others. -I will come back and we’ll talk about it.- it sounds like a promise. It will be better for you, thinks Penelope, wearing headphones and preparing to play her part in this mission.

-

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[dudeandduchess]

To the Ends of the Earth: Kyōjurō x F!S/O (Mythology AU)

Hey hey, bbys! This is the other fic I was talking about earlier. I based this one on Orpheus and Eurydice’s myth. I hope you guys like it as much as I liked writing it. Please tell me what you guys think, as every comment will help me improve my writing. Thank you so much!

Now, we’re going to go back to our regularly scheduled program: i.e. me writing your reqs. Ahaha.

***

Warnings: Manga Spoilers, Talk of Purgatory and the Afterlife, Angst with Happy Ending

She had no choice.

(Y/n)’s current predicament left her no choice but to go crawling back to her parents. It was either that, or she could say goodbye to her beloved husband forever.

Neither of the two choices tickled her fancy, but she knew what she had to do.

She had to get up and out of her pitiful state, wipe her tears away, and march right on to solve her own problem. Because the world surely wasn’t going to do it for her.

And Kyōjurō wasn’t there to pick her up as well. So, she had to do it by herself; whether she liked it or not.

With her head held high, and her face rid of her tears, (Y/n) set on for her course to the mountain that housed the power of the spirits of the dead— and her family’s home: Tateyama; more specifically, Oyama peak.

The journey was long, but it wasn’t arduous; not when she felt more and more energized the closer she got to her childhood home.

Snow immediately greeted her at the foot of the mountain, as she bypassed the old town and headed up the trail that everyone had deemed too dangerous to tread. Dangerous for mortals, maybe, but not for halflings like her.

The air was so thin near the peak, yet she wasn’t even out of breath as she trudged through the knee-deep snow in her Slayer uniform. She didn’t even feel cold, as the warmth that Kyōjurō’s haori provided her was enough to ward off any chill.

“Mother! Father!” She cried aloud at the seemingly empty peak. Her own voice carried over the silence, and echoed up to the other peaks. “I need your help.”

Silence answered her plea, which had her frowning and fighting off another wave of tears. She’d known that going to her parents for help had been a shot in the dark, as a part of her kept telling her before that renouncing her immortality to stay with Kyōjurō would disappoint them greatly.

Renouncing a goddess’ eternal life wasn’t unheard of, but it was a taboo within their social circles. To even walk amongst humans was a taboo that (Y/n) gladly took to; as it had led her to meeting the love of her life.

She got to keep most of her powers, which made her a very efficient demon slayer; so efficient, in fact, that she’d amassed quite the following within the Slayer Corps. Alas, as much as she wanted to teach everyone how to manifest a bow and arrow out of thin air, she couldn’t...

As no one had the same abilities as her.

She was different— always had been— but it was in Kyōjurō’s arms that she’d found the love and acceptance that she had been always been yearning for. She hadn’t found it with anyone else throughout her long life; just with him.

So she didn’t hesitate to give up her own immortality, if it meant that she could grow old and build a family with him...

But the Infinite Train mission had happened, and he had perished under an upper moon’s hand.

The last thing that she wanted was to admit defeat and ask her parents— more specifically, her father— for help, yet there she was: at the top of Tateyama’s second highest peak, and waiting for her old home’s invisible barriers to part and allow her entry.

The demigoddess didn’t know how long she’d stood there, but it was long enough for her tears to freeze and her feet to go numb in the snow.

“Please. Please, help me.” (Y/n) begged once more; even going as far as to get down on her knees and bow down in a dogeza.

More tears flowed freely from her eyes, only to instantly disappear the moment they fell on to the snowy ground.

“I’m begging you... mother, father. Please.”

It felt like an hour had passed for (Y/n), yet she stayed bowed down on the cold ground. Her heart felt so painful that she had taken to digging her nails into her palms, if only to divert her attention.

Yet she could still feel it; and the pain in her heart rendered her brain unable to dwell on anything but her own inner turmoil.

“Lift your head, (Y/n).” Instantly, the demigoddess’ head snapped up, as more and more tears flowed from her eyes. Sobs even threatened to break free from her lips, but she bit down on her bottom lip in an effort to keep them at bay.

Slowly, the ethereal woman sashayed down the stairs that led heavenward— up to the home she had been raised in, in the sky. It was palatial in its size and elegance, but a prison was still a prison— no matter how beautiful it was.

(Y/n) felt her mother’s familiar powers wash over her; cleaning the tear tracks from her cheeks and righting her fragile human body up into standing. She could only look on and take the other woman’s face to memory, as she wasn’t sure if it was going to be the last time that she ever saw her.

As it was, she hadn’t seen her parents ever since she married Kyōjurō— which was nearing three years at that point. And she realized that no matter how badly they had ended their last conversation, she still felt so much love and affection for both of them.

And it seemed that her mother felt the same, as she was immediately engulfed in the older goddess’ arms. Being the deity of snow, she was cold to the touch, but (Y/n) didn’t mind at all as she burrowed further against her mother.

“I’m so sorry for saying all of those hurtful things to you and father,” The young woman helplessly sobbed. “I didn’t mean any of them. I’m so sorry.”

“And both of us are sorry as well... for not seeing things from your perspective. But we understand now; and we accept your decision fully. We accept you and Kyōjurō fully...” Yukihime answered in her gentle tone; all while tears marred those flawlessly pale cheeks of hers.

At that, (Y/n) clung tighter to her mother and resisted the urge to succumb to another breakdown. She had already had so many of those in the days following Kyōjurō’s death; she didn’t want to have any more, as they were extremely taxing on already broken heart.

She explained what had happened, not sparing all of the grisly details— which had Yukihime gritting her teeth in anger. Had she been allowed to do so, she would have already rained down her wrath upon Kibutsuji Muzan, but full-fledged deities such as herself and her husband weren’t allowed to interfere with the happenings between humans and demons.

So her hands were tied. She could only hold her daughter closer and run her fingers through the young woman’s hair; like she had done when (Y/n) was a child.

“It’s a good thing your father isn’t here, because he would surely break the rules and smite that damned Kibutsuji,” Yukihime snarled the demon progenitor’s name, then added, “As if the humans needed more pests in their world. Nothing but the result of a paltry mortal trying to play as a god.”

With that, Yukihime whisked her daughter up the grand stairs that led up to their home; completely unmindful of the Yūrei that tried to grab at the tail ends of her kimono.

As the wife of the the keeper of purgatory’s keys, a lot of restless spirits tended to follow her around in the hopes that she would help them; but she couldn’t, as doing so would warrant great challenges.

And, whether mortals wanted to believe it or not, gods were vain and selfish. They only cared about themselves or those related to them. They did things that would benefit them greatly; not because they were kind enough to bestow blessings upon their hordes of supporters.

It was why (Y/n) didn’t fit in in the first place, as she genuinely cared about the mortals that revered her parents... and the few who praised her as well.

Once inside the palatial house, Yukihime immediately transported them to the sulfur baths and ordered her daughter to soak herself within the bath; with her clothes and all.

“It’s to keep your sweet, mortal scent from attracting more Yūrei,” The goddess had explained softly, as she silently recounted all of her trips to the underworld and mapped out which way was the easiest to take.

It took her a few minutes to do so, but once she was sure that her daughter would be taking the safest route, she said, “From here you have to go to Shōmyō falls. When you get there, climb up to the very top of the falls and jump down. You have enough of mine and your father’s blood in you for the gates of hell to recognize you...

But... when you get down to purgatory, be sure to take Kyōjurō and leave. Don’t look at anyone, don’t talk to anyone and— most importantly— don’t look back at Kyōjurō until you two have gotten up to the surface. A door will be there, and only those who bear the blood of the gods can enter. Be sure to not let go of your husband’s hand while walking through that doorway...”

Yukihime prattled on, giving her daughter advice on how to deal with any problems that should arise. And when all was said, she transported (Y/n) close to where Shōmyō Falls was.

***

The trek going to the lip of the waterfall was much more difficult than going up the mountain, as demons and spirits littered the area. She had to dispose of the handful of demons that she had come across, as she had sworn to do so when she became a Slayer.

It ate up more time than she wanted, but it was inevitable. But still, when she made it to the very tip of the waterfall, she closed her eyes and took one last step off of the ledge.

The wind rushed past her ears and whipped her hair every which way; and it made her want to scream, but she held herself from doing so, as making any unnecessary noise would attract the attention of more restless spirits than she could handle.

There was nothing but the whistling of the wind around her for a while— much longer than she had anticipated, which made her heart race in fear. Had she been a full-fledged goddess, she could survive the impact of the fall, but as a halfling... her chances of survival weren’t looking good.

But then, the cold air around her became suffocating; extremely hot and uncomfortable. So uncomfortable, in fact, that it made breathing such a difficult task.

The only silver lining was that with the heat came the slowing of her descent.

She finally opened her eyes when she felt herself practically floating down, and suppressed a gasp when she saw all of the reikon in purgatory.

All of them were wandering aimlessly— awaiting the arrival of their ancestors, so that they could be taken to the afterlife. While some... she couldn’t even begin to describe the sickening emotions wafting off of the others.

Those vengeful spirits were bound to become Yūrei; doomed to roam the earth in search of the justice or revenge that their soul craved.

(Y/n) felt sorry for them, and she wanted to help, but she kept looking around her as she drew closer and closer to the ground— searching for that head of fiery blond hair that she had come to love.

And it didn’t take long for her to spot him. He was standing off to the side, with his arms crossed— all while sporting a small smile on his face.

The moment her feet touched the warm ground, she took off in a sprint towards him— uncaring of all the souls that she had pushed out of her way. All that mattered to her was him.

She immediately wrapped her arms around him, as she roughly bit down on her bottom lip to keep herself from sobbing.

“(Y/n)?” Kyōjurō asked, clearly surprised as he wrapped his own arms around his wife. Then, that was when worry crashed over him like a tidal wave... “You’re not... you’re not dead, are you?”

“No,” She answered through her tears, as she shook her head. “I’m here to get you out. Come on.”

Kyōjurō wanted, more than anything, to go— but he was held back by his own morals. It would be highly unfair if he got to cheat death, per se; and that harped heavily on his conscience.

“Please, Kyō,” His wife pleaded desperately. “We don’t have much time.”

It might have been unfair of him to do so, but he still had unfinished business. And he still had to make good on all of the promises he’d uttered to (Y/n) when they got married, so the Hashira found himself nodding. “Okay. Let’s go.”

With that, (Y/n) took his right hand in hers, and dragged him towards the doors that her mother had told her about. She also made a point to always stay in front of Kyōjurō, and forced herself not to look at him over her shoulder.

“Why aren’t you looking at me, my love?” Kyōjurō asked softly, as he followed his wife up the seemingly endless steps that were carved into the sides of a spiraling ravine.

“I... I can’t; not until we get to the surface.”

“Who told you that?”

“My mother. I asked for her help... but my father wasn’t there.”

A bright smile tugged up at the Flame Hashira’s lips, as he readjusted his grip on (Y/n)’s hand and pulled her down a few steps— so that he could press a kiss against the back of her head.

The gesture warmed (Y/n)’s heart immensely, as a watery smile made its way onto her own lips. It had been merely a few days since he’d been gone, but she couldn’t deny that she’d immensely missed his kisses— and just him in general.

“You’ve made up with her; that’s amazing news, my love! Should I look forward to spending New Year at your parents’ home?” Kyōjurō stated with a teasing lilt to his tone, which had his wife giggling despite the new set of tears that fell from her eyes.

It seemed that she had cried more in the short time she’d been half mortal, compared to how much she’d cried in the few hundred years she’d been alive as a full-fledged goddess. But. She wasn’t complaining; as feeling so much was something so genuinely human that immortals could never understand.

It was something that she had, that all of the much more relevant deities could never take away from her. “Maybe. Let’s check how my father feels about it first.”

After that exchange, the couple made their way up the spiraling steps. (Y/n) stumbled a few times, but she was lucky enough as Kyōjurō caught her each and every time.

The Hashira had even taken to pushing her up the last few steps, with his hands cupping his wife’s firmly rounded behind.

Still, even as they emerged onto the surface— and Kyōjurō’s hands had snaked up to a much more appropriate spot on either side of (Y/n)’s hips— she still refused to look at him, just to be sure.

It wasn’t until they were a few meters away from the narrow cave opening that they had exited that Kyōjurō turned his wife around and wrapped his arms tightly around her.

He could feel his own tears streaming down his face, while small hands gripped the back of his uniform in tight fists.

And for the nth time that week, (Y/n) wailed so loudly that it was enough to grip her husband’s heart in a vise like grip. She sounded so anguished that the guilt of causing her that much pain gnawed at him.

“I’m so sorry for leaving you, my love. I’m so sorry.” He whispered softly, as his arms pulled her further against his chest.

It was only then that Kyōjurō realized the severity of his actions. In sacrificing himself, he had hurt the love of his life so much— and he swore, from that moment on, that he would be more careful.

Because he should have been the one saving (Y/n); not the other way around. That, and he never wanted to cause her pain ever again.

((If you liked my work, please consider buying me a ko-fi. Thank you so much! :D))

[hadestownmodern]

Worth

Hey guys! Annika here! I hope the queue worked if it did this should be posted at 8:15 pm when I'm in the show. This is a piece that comes right before Melody which is one of Danielle’s parts and is such an important part of the AU. I suggest reading that after this, because this takes place probably 2-3 days before that does!

“You’ve looked better.” Persephone doesn’t even really look up, trying to finish grading this last page of a student’s work. The essay was already covered in red ink, but she needed to finish so she could put the grades in. She knew, however, from seeing Eurydice earlier, that she wasn’t looking too great today.

“I can’t do this, Persephone.” The voice is soft and barely audible, and causes Persephone to snap her head up to look at Eurydice, who looks on the wrong side of exhausted. Her bag is already on the ground, and the young girl is standing before her in desperate need of rest. Heavy, dark rings sit under her eyes, and her hands are shaking as she uses them to hold her daughter.  

“Can’t do what, baby?” Persephone’s crossing the room to her in an instant with gentle hands on her shoulders to encourage her to sit on the well-worn couch she keeps in the corner of her office. She is careful as she lowers her onto the cushion, being careful not to sit her on top of her own napping daughter, who was tired from her day at preschool.

“I can’t do this,” Eurydice gestures at the sleeping baby in her arm, and the bag on the ground beside her. “I have a test in three weeks and I can’t have her with me and she fights Persephone, and I mean fights us when we try to give her a bottle, and I can’t type when I hold her but she cries when i’m not, and she’s only a month old and it hurts to be away from her and- I can’t do school and be her mom. I can’t be the mother she deserves and-” Eurydice has Melody in her shaky arms, holding the baby as close as she can manage. “I’m failing as her mother and as a student and Orpheus and-”

“Hey, Eurydice, sweetheart...You are not  failing. You are not failing your classes and you are most certainly not failing Melody.” Persephone is kneeling before Eurydice, and takes her free hand in her own. “Orpheus thinks you string the stars in the sky! He is so proud of you every day. We all are.” Persephone’s other hand rests on Melody’s dark hair, taking note of how yes, the baby was calmer than anything when she was with her mother. “You are the mother she deserves because you’re you, Eurydice. She won’t go to anyone else because she loves you so much…” 

She brushes her thumb over Eurydice’s cheek, the other hand brushing comfortingly over her arm. “Eurydice, you had a baby a month ago. That’s four fucking weeks. You came to class, the first day, with a two week old. When Junie was two weeks old I don’t think I had left the house. You are far from failing, she’s going to admire you so much. You are a force, Eurydice. A force of nature.” 

“I-i’m so tired, Seph.” Eurydice broke, leaning heavily against Persephone. “I’m up with her and then when she sleeps I try to do my work and then I have to go to class and Orpheus he does so much for me and I know it breaks his heart that he can’t help me but- I’m just so tired.” She hiccups as she lets out the breath she was holding her whole sentence, glancing down at Melody to be sure she didn’t wake her. “How do you do it? You have it all, all the time, how can I be more like you?”

Persephone felt her heart break a little as Eurydice spoke to her. She surely couldn’t think her life was perfect, did she?”

“You think I have it all, all the time? Baby, I wish. To this day I can’t cook. I only see my husband a few hours a night sometimes, and right now he’s got a case thats taken up so much of his time I’m afraid Junie’s gonna forget what he looks like. It’s the second week and i’m behind on grading. I can promise, it’s not a walk in the park always for me. I’ve just learned to enjoy stopping and playing in the grass sometimes.” She pauses to look at Junie, who’s tiny body was curled up on the couch, holding the edge of her favorite blanket they kept in the office for times like these. “It wasn’t the same, when I was taking care of Orpheus at your age. There were three of us, and he likes hermes and I equally. Junie Bee, here, when she was a baby, she didn’t let anyone else near her for the first three months of her life. Screamed like a banshee when I put her down. I couldn’t imagine Eurydice, being in school, and working all those jobs you have, when I had a baby like her.” She can empathize, truly she can, to an extent. “It’s just a little different. Melody was like a souvenir you didn’t anticipate...like an award you didn’t realize you were competing for. But you would defend that title, now, with your life, you know? . Junie was a hard fought for, a hard earned prize. LIke the competition I practiced for my entire life, and lost and lost and lost. That makes a difference, I think. You were thrown into this, Eurydice, and you’re learning as you go. I learned, then thought i’d never get to use it. So don’t think i’ve got it all, or that i’ve got all my ducks in a row. You just are lucky enough to have missed my really bad, really really bad, dark days.” 

“I-” Eurydice was wordless. What did you say to a subtle reminder that things are so different between you and the person you admire most. 

“Don’t you worry about it. I can promise you, though, I do not have it all together by any means. We’re human..we can’t have it perfect. But I can promise, too, that you’re doing a hell of a good job already.” She kisses her forehead, in that maternal way only Persephone could, and holds out her arms. “You, lay down. You look exhausted, and you already told me you are. I’ll entertain Melody here..”

“She’ll fuss if you take her-”

“And if she gets to be too fussy I will lay her next to you. Now move Junie out of your way and lay down. I bet she’ll even share her blanket with her favorite auntie ‘rydice..” Persephone pulls melody into her arms, tucking her head against her shoulder before giving her a pointed look. “Will you lay down and nap, you are worse than Juniper.”

Eurydice puts her hands up in defense, and lays beside the four year old, curling her body around her as they had done so many times before. She is keenly aware of Melody's whimpering, but even more so aware of Persephone's gentle humming and soft voice keeping her calm. She is not expecting to fall asleep, but is out before Persephone reaches the second chorus on the song she sings. 

When Eurydice awakens, she is aware of the lack of a toddler in front of her, and the way the blanket seems to cover her whole body now. She stretches her legs, trying to get her bearings when she hears. 

“Junie, no baby, you can’t give the baby your milk.” Eurydice peaks an eye open to see Persephone sitting on the floor, Melody in one arm, with the other outstretched to block Junie’s drink cup from getting closer. 

“But, mama, you said babies drink milk! I tried to give her cookies, you said no. I try to share my milk, you say no!” Junie is shaking her head, shrugging in confusion. “You say it’s nice to share!”

“It is so nice to share, but she needs special milk.”

“It is special milk, Mama. It’s chocolate al-mun milk. Amma says it’s og-anic.” Junie’s inching closer, hands outstretched to touch Melody’s face. “Why can’t she have it.”

“‘Cause I have to make it for her.” Eurydice chimed in, deciding to join them on the floor. Junie squeals as she sees her, lunging at her and throwing arms around her neck before a childlike wonder fills her face. “How long was I out?”

“You make it for her? Is it og-anic?” Junie inquired, brown eyes gleaming with innocence and joy. “...can you make it chocolate?”

“It’s about as Organic as it gets, Junie, now will you get back here.” Persephone calls her, though she is too enraptured by Eurydice to hear. “Forty minutes maybe..”

“No, I can’t...make..it chocolate..” Eurydice tries, grimacing at Persephone as an apology for her failed answer. Persephone just laughs and shakes her head, instead focusing on melody, who slept soundly against her, enjoying the feeling of the tiny human in her arms. 

“Can I have some?” Junie asks, cocking her head at Eurydice who feels the color drain from her face. “please?”

“No, Juniper, you cannot-” Persephone tries before Junie starts to pout, bottom lip quivering.

“Why not? I was gonna share! Tell Melody to share, it’s only nice!!!” Her arms cross over her chest, as she looks at Eurydice with watering eyes. 

Eurydice has a look of panic on her face before Persephone reaches out and pulls Juniper onto her lap. 

“Because. It is for babies and you are a big girl. Babies need milk because they cannot eat other things, and so their mommies make it for them until they can have- “

“Mama?”

Persephone audibly sighs, running her fingers over Junie’s wild curls.  “Yes, baby?”

“Why don’t you make-”

“Because, Juniper. You are four. And you have teeth.”

[notaghost3]

Fic asks: 3, 7, 13, 18

3. Do you write fics from start or finish, or jump around?

Usually start to finish, my especially for one-shots with lots of different separate scenes, I’ll jump around!

7. Which part of writing do you struggle with most?

The writing part ;p Hahaha, no probably describing or basically anything that isn’t dialogue. If I could all my stories would be dialogue with as little anything else as possible! haha

13. Is there a trope you wouldn’t write if it was the last trope on earth?

Hmmmm...probably de-aging? The stories where a character suddenly gets turned into a baby...I’ll read it but I probably wouldn’t ever write it!

18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

This might get lengthy hahaha, but the first thing to come to mind is the 5th chapter of Heathens, where we finally get into Christine’s head for the first time and the reader begins to realize that things might not end happily ever after after all...so I might quote the whole chapter below! Italics is story, bold is my DVD commentary!

Her breath came out in a hiss.

How long had it been? Days? Months? Minutes?

The throbbing (this is a double meaning, the throbbing being her craving for blood and also her craving for Erik) continued, hidden deep within her. An awful, never ending sensation that followed her, haunted her through day and night. Or perhaps just night, for there was no day here in the cellar she was trapped in (not a blatant reference, but in Leroux’s novel, Erik controls the clocks in his house and I always wondered if he was changing the times to trick Christine into thinking time was passing slower/quicker depending on what he wanted and this Erik for sure would. Plus...vampires, darkness, night). Only night, only darkness, only thirst, only despair, only maddening need- (This Christine, and this chapter especially is full of purposeful repetition as if she’s collecting her thoughts and I really love the way that turned out!)

Only him.

That was the trouble of it all. It was not that she desired him, not that she loved him but that without him she could not survive; dependence was all she knew, the only familiar friend that kept her company in this underworld of horror. 

She wanted to crush dependence like a bug beneath her foot. (Defeat the vampire patriarchy!) 

She hated the dependence that he had forced upon her with this "new life", this "new chance" she had been gifted by him, she loathed the "freedom" she was offered by being forever held in a prison cell disguised as a house (this came from me wanting to start introducing the concept that she was actually miserable as a vampire vs. alot of vampire E/C fics or vampire fics in general where the person turned into the vampire just adapts to immortality beautifully and loves it and I think Christine is just too much of a sunshine person to ever be happy :/ especially in this AU since she actually didn’t know Erik before hand). She spat upon this life. Cursed, condemned and damned it in her mind until she broke down and prayed for forgiveness. Prayed for forgiveness from a God she wasn't sure was even listening to her desperate pleas anymore. Why would he? She was just as cursed, condemned, and damned as the creature she tried to pray away. (LOVE that last sentence, I love when I see the chance to flip the monster/man scenario on Christine since she can’t view it as an outsider anymore, she has to herself as the monster too. I touch on that in the last chapter to, but I really like this one because it includes the God convo because do vampires have souls? Do anyone? Christine is really doubting it now and she doesn’t like that she’s having to.) 

It was then that she cried.

It was the strangest thing: she could cry. So many other human traits had been taken away but that one remained. Each tear burned, but she relished in the pain. At least the tears were her own, at least he didn't command when they fell, at least she could feel the pain they brought as she was made numb to so many other things. It was these times that he came to her and wrapped her in his arms, apologizing and shushing her gently on the floor of the cold stone that no longer felt cold compared to her skin. (The sad thing about this AU is that Erik really does love Christine, despite her very obviously hating him and I picture in these instances, he is really actually upset and caring for her but he doesn’t realize [yet anyway, he will by the end of the last chapter] that she feels like a songbird trapped in a gilded cage. Also the cold is a reference to the legend that vampires have unnaturally cold skin.)

Compared to her heart.

For a moment, she could almost fool herself that she was human and so was he. That there was genuine care between them and that she genuinely wanted comfort from her fears. For a moment, she could almost love him. 

But almost love was far different from the real thing. (UGH Christine is under the impression that she is being manipulated which she is and she is very suspicious of any and all of his actions toward her, but a part of her feels drawn to him...)

He claimed to love her, but she knew this monster too well to be charmed and deceived by the false promises of love he offered her. (love this sentence!) She hadn't asked for this life, hadn't asked for him but here she was. Here they were. He told her he loved her every chance he saw: loved her voice, loved her hair, loved her eyes that now mirrored the shade of his own, loved her soft skin, loved the wetness that he coaxed from her, loved the scars he had left on the back of her throat...she could go on and on (this is in reference to Leroux’s Erik and how he spent a ton of times those 2 weeks he kidnapped her proclaiming his love!) She knew better. He was nothing more than a snake, poised and ready to strike.

Rattlesnake and songbird- she'd heard this tale before. (This was the first sentence I had planned for this chapter! I had just gotten into Hadestown and I realized that Hades and Eurydice in “Hey little Songbird” where Hades enticed Eurydice into the Underworld was such a good parellel and in the musical Hermes has a line about rattlesnake vs. songbird and I feel like Christine would’ve probably heard the Orpheus/Eurydice tale probably from Erik or maybe her father so I had to include it. This whole chapter blossomed from this sentence basically.)

But then he'd lean down and settle on the ground beside her, he'd cup his hand under her chin, and he'd raise her face to his-

Then she'd see his eyes. (Hypnotization! I decided the reason Erik used it so much was because he thought because of his ugliness, Christine would never stay on her own terms...and the reason Christine hasn’t tried it for herself is because she simply doesn’t know she can)

Those beautiful, awful, dangerous eyes.

And the world fell away.

She knew she shouldn't look at them. Shouldn't give way to temptation and lock stares with him, giving herself willingly over, but it was better then. She wasn't in control then, she was a lifeless doll that was docile and willing. She couldn't think when she was lost in his eyes, didn't have time to dwell on the ill-fated deck of cards life had dealt her. Instead, there was only life, only surrender, only pure bliss- (Here’s the mirrored repetition from earlier in the chapter!)

Only him.

It was like drawing a circle in the sand. (Lowkey hate this sentence, but i couldn’t think of anything better in the moment.)

She would look at him and believe every word he uttered.

Then he would kiss her, slowly and passionately just like a lover should, and she would hitch her leg over his hip as she let him lower her against the ground... (*Side Eye*)

Why couldn't she just hate him? (ah yes, the question of the century..., and also in reference to the scene in Leroux where she tells Raoul that she cannot hate Erik.)

Why after every lie and manipulation did she come back? Crawling after him like a drunkard in need of alcohol. Why did some part of her compel her to stay, what gene in her dared to act on its curious instincts? It wouldn't be so difficult to hate him if he didn't provide her with the solution to her throbbing, with the water for the flames that constantly raged inside her, grasping to be released (that whole sentence can be applied to both of her pressing *needs*). It was easy to pretend then as the creature took over and she wasn't in control of her actions and desires. It was quite simple to be content in those moments. (Here she is, trying to reason that she is just the victim, just the outsider and not the monster).

But that too ended.

And he would look away.

And the world would come crashing back down.

It was quite easy to hate him then.

The throbbing continued, beating between her legs in a battle against the burn of her throat. The two constant, consistent needs that only he could fill. (One of my FAVORITE sentences I have ever wrote!)

Only Erik... (and here’s the final reference to the “only” repetition theme Christine has had going on this whole chapter!)

Her eyes narrowed from her place in the doorway of his music room as she watched his fingers play out notes that she was positive had been tapped on the inner most parts of her. Music was perhaps the only wholesome thing she had left but he was in every note, his voice the most incredible thing she ever had the misfortune of hearing. (Another sentence I’m really proud of! Also this was actually the first paragraph I had written for this chapter and it just sat at the end of this document while I tried to fill in the middle!)

Christine wasn't sure of many things, but as her tongue traced over her blood-stained lips she was sure of one thing: she had to escape. (In my OG outline, the chapter actually kept going from here, but I decided that this had really nice punch to it and I left it alone! And I’m glad I did. I also like how it ties the whole chapter back to Earth as you realize Christine has had all these thoughts while shooting Erik daggers with her eyes in the doorframe.)

Well, hopefully you made it through all my ramblings! I feel like I could do this with the last chapter of Heathens to, but I made a whole video about that one! The password is heathens if anyone is interested in listening to me ramble hahaha

Thank you, @a-partofthenarrative!!

[thenightling]

Preemptive Strike: Yes!  We know Morpheus (The Sandman) is problematic.  Thank you for noticing!

I knew I would have to write this one day and that day has finally come.   Now that Sandman is getting a Netflix series adaptation a new flock of curious readers will venture into the source material or watch the new series and they will be surprised by one little thing...  

The protagonist was a colossal asshole...

Yes, friends.  The protagonist of Sandman is “problematic.”   We know this.  We acknowledge this.  Neil Gaiman knows this.  ��It is very much deliberate and not meant to be excused by anyone. 

 “I’m just worried the author might think this sort of problematic behavior is okay.” - I’ve seen this statement before in regard to literature.  No.   Just no.  We all know he’s problematic and no one justifies it.   

Morpheus, in Sandman, has a backstory that is arguably villainous.  He’s done many, many terrible things.   So why do we like him?

Well, there’s a lot more to him than that. Also the little Fuck-up knows he’s a Fuck-up.  Seventy-two-years trapped in a giant glass bubble in a magical binding circle, (the very first issue of Sandman) gives one time to think, time to reflect.  And he’s still kind of a jerk when he gets out but that’s okay, he’s still learning.   Most of Sandman is watching Morpheus grow from asshole to more sympathetic and more human.  

To prepare you (in case you can’t handle or forgive his actions) I have a few of his most terrible actions here in this post.   So be warned, there are spoilers from this point on.

1.  Morpheus was in love with a black woman named Nada, a young queen.  I only mention her race because it might be an issue for some people on Tumblr who might think Morpheus’ actions are racist.  No, Morpheus has no real race.  What he does to her is awful but it wasn’t about her race.

This was ten-thousand-years-ago.  When she rejected Morpheus he grew enraged and condemned her soul to Hell.  Later in Sandman: Season of Mists (the fourth graphic novel in the Sandman series) a conversation with Death (Morpheus’ sister) makes Morpheus realize he was wrong to have done this.  (He’s a BIT thick...)    

He resolves to go to Hell to rescue Nada even though he’s afraid of confronting Lucifer.  When he arrives in Hell he finds out Lucifer is closing down Hell (basis for the Lucifer TV series).   

Eventually Morpheus does rescue Nada from a demon.  He gives her a half-assed apology of “Perhaps” he was wrong and “Maybe” he was mistaken for what he did.  

Note for context:  Though Morpheus is usually portrayed as having flesh that is pretty much bone-white he is actually devoid of race and often will appear as the race (or dream based deity) of whoever is looking upon him. 

Morpheus’ half-assed apology earned him a well deserved slap in the face from Nada. 

And finally he gives her the real apology she deserves. 

A detail that may not sit right with some modern audiences is she DOES accept his apology for leaving her in Hell for ten-thousand-years.   She still loves him despite what he had done.  I know some people on Tumblr will not be happy with her doing that but it is the character’s choice and Morpheus did not seem to think he would be forgiven, which (to me) made the scene kind of sweet.  Sometimes it’s okay to forgive a really awful wrong.  It doesn’t make you weak or less of a woman.   Sometimes forgiveness is the best way to heal.  

2.  Morpheus badly mistreated his own son, Orpheus.  If you know the Greek Myth of Orpheus you know what happened to him.  Orpheus went to The Underworld to retrieve his dead bride.  Hades told him he could have her back if he did not look back while leaving The Underworld.  Distrusting Hades, Orpheus started to fear he was deceived and just before he could leave The Underworld he looked back at his love and she was pulled away from him and back to the Elysium Fields (Greek Heaven part of The Underworld).    

Orpheus was condemned to immortality but angry Bacchanalia tore his body asunder.  His still-living severed head was tossed and ended up on a beach.  Morpheus (still very much an asshole back then) abandoned his son because when Orpheus was still grieving his wife, Orpheus had cursed and denounced his father for not helping him get his wife back. 

Morpheus was kind enough to send dreams to some Pagan priests to look after his son through the ages in a secret shrine but that was the extent of his mercy.  For centuries Orpheus wanted to die to be reunited with his wife...

During Sandman: Brief Lives, Morpheus reconciles with his son (who is just a living-head being tended to by Pagan Greek priests) and Morpheus gives his son what he has wanted for a long, long, time.  He puts his poor son out of his misery and sends him to The Elysium Fields where he is again whole.  How Morpheus had treated his son is one sin Morpheus, himself, will not forgive himself for and yearns to be punished for.

3.  During Morpheus’ initial falling out with his son, Orpheus, Morpheus also badly mistreated Calliope (the muse) who was Morpheus’ wife at the time.  Morpheus shut her out and essentially unceremoniously divorced her for scolding him about how he treated Orpheus (this was long, long, before Morpheus and Orpheus’ reconcile).  In present day, after his considerable character growth, Morpheus finds out Calliope has fallen into the hands of cruel mortals who are holding her prisoner, raping and exploiting her for her powers. He rescues her and severely punishes her captor.

4.   At the very start of the first issue of Sandman Morpheus was captured by mortal occultists who kept him prisoner.  The main one of this was Roderick Burgess.  

Roderick passed away and left his prisoner to his son, Alexander.  Alex loathed keeping Morpheus but he was afraid to let him go for fear Morpheus would seek revenge on him. Alex could have said as much but he tried to get the immortality, power, and promise that he would not seek revenge and when Morpheus refused to answer him he flung insults and threats at him, just like his father.

When Morpheus finally escapes he shows no mercy to Alex (though he spared Alex’s husband, Paul).  Morpheus traps Alex in a torment called “Eternal waking” which is a nightmare that just ends with him waking in another nightmare and that one ending into yet another nightmare and on and on for all time.  Alex eventually does get released and forgiven but it takes years.

5.   During Season of Mists Morpheus is given a faery servant named Nuala.  Let’s call a spade a spade here.  She’s a slave girl.   Morpheus does not want to accept her.  He actually does not condone slavery.   But if he does not accept her being given as a gift the faeries will use that as an excuse to declare war on him.  (This was during the time Morpheus had the key to Hell and many supernatural entities wanted it.)   Morpheus allows her to stay, knowing if he rejects the gift or makes her leave the faeries will deliberately take it as an insult and therefor an excuse to declare war to take the key to Hell.  But Morpheus never gives her any orders.  The one thing he does that others might take offense to is he does force her to remove her glamour spell (A spell hiding her true form).  Later this is beneficial as it teaches Nuala that her true form is not ugly and that she should accept herself despite what the faery society imposes on her.   

All faeries hide under a glamour and it’s a metaphor for conforming to what society expects and wants of you instead of being true to yourself.  Morpheus wanted her to truly be herself.  But the way he goes about it may be questionable as it might be viewed as not respecting her agency.

Later when faeries come back to reclaim her in a different storyline, Morpheus rewards her service with a promise of a boon as a means to play her as he is not comfortable with the idea of slavery.  Ultimately Nuala chooses to leave the realm of Faerie rather then go back to hiding her true self under a glamour just to appease others.  

6.   Another contemporary misbehavior is Morpheus kind of implies he wants / plans to take Lyta’s baby son, Daniel.  It comes off as creepy and Rumpelstiltskin-esque and this becomes a problem later.  It’s deliberately out of context and perhaps suicidal that he does this, considering what happens. 

Morpheus should write a book. “How to frame yourself for kidnapping in three easy steps.”    

7.   One of Morpheus’ greatest flaws is his pride.  He does not like to ask for help. He does not accept criticism well. He had probably never apologized in his life until he apologized to Nada (and then other apologies come easier).   And he had trouble forgiving.     

Morpheus’ past is dark. He has done some incredibly awful things (that is kind of the point) and while he is growing as a character he still occasionally does awful things.  But he learns. He grows.  And he tries to make amends and that is the point.

So yes, Tumblr,  Yes, I present to you a new Trash Can Child.  We know he is problematic. He knows he’s problematic.  Neil Gaiman knows he’s problematic.  I’m pretty sure Morpheus has shrubbery that knows he’s problematic.  He is a mess.  And we love him for it.    

So before you get angry about his behavior just understand, it’s supposed to be dark, it’s supposed to be awful.  That’s what makes his change more powerful.  Morpheus kind of embodies that song lyric from Beauty and the Beast.  (“Bittersweet and strange, finding you can change.  Learning you were wrong...”)   

So if you notice he’s a problematic trainwreck of a supernatural creature, good for you!  You observed the obvious!  Well done!   We know.   Everyone knows. No one will deny it.  But he’s our repentant former-asshole.

He is our idiot dumpster-fire baby but we’re willing to share.

[vorcotec]

aidestown brainstorming:

like i said in the initial ramble it’s not that i think aides is incapable of wrongdoing, just that her perspective is going to be different, and how she justifies wrongdoing will be different.

her issue is not about buying, as such, persephone or eurydice and wanting them or any other woman to feel obligated and grateful to her; and, again, she doesn’t have the patriarch’s desire to amass material things as a replacement for an ability to create. money is essentially meaningless to her, always has been.

her issue is about protection and control, specifically. i’ve spoken in the past about how aides, as a character, is much more defined by trauma than any other version of jane, and how obsessive she is about controlling herself and her environment because of the initial shock and devastation of regurgitation and her early, repeated, deeply harmful exposure to stimulation she couldn’t endure. that’s why Classic Aides is covered from head to foot in a Noise Cancelling Weighted Sensory Blanket Cloak that keeps everything and everyone OUT and away from herself at all times.

this isn’t to imply that she doesn’t need her accommodations in that respect, that her sensory experiences aren’t real, but that she compensates for them the way she does because of how much it hurt, because no one protected her or knew she needed protection at first. so she had to do it herself and do it Muchly.

this is also why aides doesn’t have casual sex btw 😂 and why she couldn’t have that “casting couch”/affair subtext with eurydice even if she tried. she can’t let people close because she typically assumes she can’t trust them to touch her or even be touched by her.

off the top of my head, here are some things that have different valences, meanings, weights, etc. given the differences between aides and hades:

the paternalistic dimensions of the role vanish, given that aides is a woman and would be a mother to “my children, my children,” not a father. this isn’t to say that she isn’t controlling and harmful to them, but that, again, it’s a different motivation and justification for that control.

also, yes, she is masculine in appearance, but i’ve spoken before about why i don’t see jane as a character as “masc” or “butch” or even really “futch” and how i am very leery about playing into ideas of autism as “extreme male brain” by essentially denying jane her gender/maternity on the basis of her not liking makeup. so yes, she is a mother, not a father to “her children.”

more emphasis on the wall that surrounds aidestown, its protection and shield, and how no one gets in or out; less emphasis on the “golden scale” and the “chromium throne.“ more emphasis on owning people and less on owning things, and how when you’re in the house of aides, under her wing, you will never leave again.

“hey little songbird” loses its, uh, old man in a strip club looking for his next sugar baby vibe

she does NOT have the following lines in chant II: Take it from a man no longer young If you want to hold a woman, son Hang a chain around her throat Made of many carat gold Shackle her from wrist to wrist With sterling silver bracelets Fill her pockets full of stones Precious ones, diamonds, Bind her with a golden band Take it from an old man like... not to belabor the point but this is one of the show’s nods at gender relations and misogyny and it’s just not aides.

also, this is maybe more of a personal interpretation/aside, but given the STRONG subtext (at the very least, in r/eeve c/arney’s performance) that orpheus is autistic, he and aides are even stronger parallels than the ones already in the show between him and hades.

some other little things that are just nitpicky bits that come to me when i think about aidestown:

hades makes his first intra-narrative appearance in sunglasses. aides’ sunglasses are these weird steampunky doodads, because i reject hades’ wannabe-leatherdaddy vibes. 

obviously this is not something that could be reflected on a stage, but aides never walks into or out of a room(/on or off the stage). she just disappears and reappears.

hades wears silver snakeskin sleeve garters. aides’ are gold. where he has a silver shirt and silver pinstripes on his suit, hers are white. he wears a vest with a red back, but hers has a purple back.

she wears a spider brooch on the lapel of her suit jacket.

hades has a brick wall tattoo sleeve on his left forearm. aides has a floral vine tattoo sleeve instead.

what’s disturbing about aidestown is that it’s silent and you can’t hear any of the activity or people if you’re not immediately in the middle of it. it’s not just like... depressing, gloomy, and exploited; it’s a very creepy place to be.

[embarrassingsmartphonegame]

Amidst the Chaos - Nik Ryder x MC (Leah Mendoza)

A/N: This is actually part of a longer story that I’ve been playing around with. Figured some of you would like some angst. For context, Lamrian is in turmoil after Tialo’s betrayal and Elric’s death, and MC and the gang are on the run. As always, let me know what you think! This was also inspired by Sara Bareilles’ song Orpheus, which fits this pairing way, way too well.

Word count: 1,767

Permanent tag list: @furiouscloddonutpeanut

Into the woods was an eerie silence and accompanying darkness, the sky filled with stars burning brightly against the void of the universe. Normally, Leah would have loved the peace and quiet; growing up in Wyoming made her appreciate the great outdoors more than most people, and the woods was a reprieve from the bustling streets of New Orleans only a few miles away. But she couldn’t this time. Not when Nik, Katherine, Cal, and Vera were sleeping a few feet away and huddling together for warmth. Guilt wracked her chest as she stared down at the poster crumpled up in her hands: her face with the words “half breed” and “$1,000,000” jumping out like darts hitting their target.

She silently cursed Thomas for sending the Bloodwraith and killing her father, cursed her jealous brother for falling prey to those who wanted to conquer Lamrian and those who imprisoned her stepmother, cursed herself for being born. Her father, a kind man who had thousands of Fae depending on him and whom she just found, died protecting her. Her stepmother was in prison. And her friends were sleeping on a cold and dirty forest floor with only a few blankets to protect themselves from the elements, their faces even in sleep creased with worry over where they would go next. 

Leah took out a pen from her pocket and quickly scribbled on the back side before grabbing her bag and dagger. She made up her mind. She crept away as quietly as she could, knowing that Cal would be able to hear her with his enhanced werewolf hearing. She didn’t dare to take one last look at her friends; she didn’t deserve it.

Leah walked for about an hour and estimated that she was about 6 miles away from where she left her friends when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

“Leah…” She kept her back to him. She couldn’t look at him, her biggest temptation. She said nothing and instead bolted through the woods, her adrenaline pumping through her veins and fueling her muscles to go faster to evade the Nighthunter struggling to keep up with her inhuman speed and agility.

“Rook! Stop!” Nik bellowed while he willed his legs to move faster, remembering that she could keep up with Octavia, the mate of a werewolf Alpha, in an obstacle course. 

Leah eventually came across a thick, 200-year-old tree near the water and ran to the left to go around it. Nik ran right and collided with her, tackling her to the ground as she swore and protested.

“God…dammit…HOLD STILL!” Nik managed to pin her wrists to the ground above her head and she lay on her back, both of their gazes flashing in anger at the other. She continued to struggle and tried to will her super strength to kick in, but to no avail. She never could use her powers against him.

“Let me go, Nik,” she demanded, still struggling like the stubborn ass she always had been. “I mean it, let me go!”

“What the fuck are you doing?!” he snarled, ignoring her demands. His anger grew stronger and the grip on her wrists grew tighter as he scowled down at the woman below him.

“What’s it look like, Nik? I’m leaving! I can’t let you guys keep doing this!” She struggled harder than ever, the air quickly leaving her lungs as his weight pressed down on her body and his head moved closer to hers.

“The hell you are!” He shifted so one of his large, rough hands covered both of her squirming wrists and the other reached into his jacket pocket. In one swift movement, he pulled out a pair of magic handcuffs and snapped one side on her right wrist and the other on his left wrist, the veteran Nighthunter making sure his dominant hand was free. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Did–did you just handcuff me to you?!”

“What’s it look like, rook?” he mocked, refusing to back down. 

“For fuck’s sake, enough with that nickname!” she screamed out, frustration taking hold of her as she attempted to slip her hand through the tight cuff.

“Hey, hey, enough! Leah!” he commanded. He grabbed her other wrist and forced her to look at him as they sat on the floor of the woods. “I’m gonna ask you one more time before I start dragging you back kicking and screaming: what the hell are you doing? And what the hell is this note you left us?”

He let go of her wrist and took out the crumpled most wanted sign with her face splashed on the front and the words ‘Forget about me. Please go home. Thank you for everything.’ inscribed on the back in her messy, shaky handwriting.

“Exactly what it says. I’m leaving, Nik. I’m setting you all free!” She gave up struggling and sighed, exasperated.

“Rookie...what the hell are you talking about?” He pulled her closer by the cuff and refused to break eye contact. She shook her head, trying to ignore his warm breath on her face.

“I can’t let you do this. I can’t let any of you keep doing this. You, Katherine, Cal, and Vera...you’re harboring the most wanted fugitive in all of New Orleans and sleeping on the ground in the woods and for what? Sure, maybe Cal and Vera can’t go home for their own reasons, but you? And Katherine? I have no idea why you keep risking your neck for me, of all people.” 

“Rook, has our time together meant nothing to you?” he sighed impatiently, anger and hurt bubbling inside his chest. “You know damn well you were always more than a job, more than the 6 figures I was making protecting you. I’d spill every damn secret in the world for you, remember?”

“Well, you shouldn’t,” she rasped, her voice breaking as tears suddenly pricked her eyes and cascaded down her cheeks. “You shouldn’t...you shouldn’t be risking your life for me. Not like this.”

“You know I can’t do that,” his voice was more gentle with his thick New Orleans accent and he reached up to wipe away her tears. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you what you mean to me before it sticks. There are no more walls between us; you are my solid ground.”

“Maybe I would’ve believed that weeks ago. Hell, when we first met and you told me everything that happened to you, I was a simple girl from Wyoming and thought I could show you good, restore your faith in the world,” she shook her head, laughing bitterly. “But turns out I’m just as fucked up, optimism be damned. You’re better off without me.”

“But you did, Leah.” He pulled her closer and let her head rest on his shoulder, and she didn’t resist. “Even when you were thrown into this world, even when you knew the truth...you were always good, and that’s so rare around these parts. You’re the most pure thing in my life, rook. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

“That’s not fair to you...that a half breed is--” He cupped her face and kissed her softly, cutting her off effectively.

“Don’t you ever call yourself that,” he murmured as both sets of dark eyes met. “I don’t care what you are. You could have the entire world after you and I’d still try to find you. Please, Rookie...Leah...don’t turn away from me.”

Sweet, sweet temptation he was to her. And she gave in. Her free arm wrapped around his waist and she let sobs wrack through her body, letting out every ounce of pain and grief on the shoulder of her former bodyguard. He unlocked the handcuffs and let both of their hands slip through so he could wrap both arms around her, his longing for her to be close stronger than ever. 

Her sobs dissipated after a few minutes, and she looked down so Nik wouldn’t see her tear-stained face. She rubbed at the slowly purpling imprints of where his hands and handcuffs were, and he immediately felt shame that he let his anger take over, that he detained her so roughly that he hurt her. He intertwined their fingers together and kissed her wrists in apology. They let silence pass over, and both slowly realized with dry humor that they were near the bayou, where they first expressed romantic affection for each other.

Her lips crashed into his again as tears continued to flow freely from her face. She felt his large hand curl around the back of her head and into her wavy brown hair, and she leaned into the familiarity of it. His other hand snaked around her waist, and her hands cupped his face firmly. This kiss was passionate, almost desperate, different from the first kiss they shared in that same spot in what felt like a lifetime ago. She kissed him under the moonlight with the intensity of a thousand suns, as if she knew the sun was going to die the very next morning.

“Nik…” she whispered.

“Yes?”

Leah pressed her forehead against his and one of her hands pressed gently against his hardened chest. For a moment she caressed the fabric of his shirt, feeling a knot of scar tissue overlying the steady beat of his heart. Her touch was simple yet spoke volumes about what was in her own heart, and her lips followed suit.

“I love you.” Nik’s eyes went wide as his grip tightened on her waist, and he opened his mouth to respond before Leah cut him off. “And I’m sorry.”

The hand on his chest suddenly glowed against the fabric of his shirt and Nik collapsed into her arms, instantly asleep. Her heart sank with guilt as its anchor. For the first time, she used her powers against him, a simple sleeping spell Thalissa taught her amidst the chaos. She laid him under a tree, out of sight from whatever supernatural creature or otherwise could come his way. Leah estimated that she had about an hour before the spell wore off and he woke up to find her missing; she would happily exchange anything in the world to have just another minute with him. She stole one last look at his face and the area where they shared both their first and last kiss before she turned away, her heart heavy and eyes rimmed red. 

Nevertheless, she pressed forward in determination and acceptance of her fate: in the direction of the castle guarding Lamrian.

[swanqueeneverafter]

What Dreams May Come, Pt.30

Storybrooke. Swan-Mills House. (Emma pulls on her leather jacket and readies herself for what lies ahead.) Snow White: (Entering:) "Well, I've just come back from Camelot, and Guinevere agreed. Lancelot will lead their army into the Dream World. (Noticing the pensive look on her daughter's face:) Are you all right?" Emma: "Yeah. I mean, I've got to be, right?" Snow White: (Shaking her head:) "I hate that Morpheus is separating you two like this, and making you relive your cursed life. Do you know how he plans on doing that without the Dark Curse ingredients by the way?" Emma: (Shrugs:) "He's a god. I'm pretty sure he can do whatever he wants." Snow White: "If that were true, Morpheus would've enslaved us all by now. Zeus doesn't want him to succeed any more than we do." Emma: "Then why doesn't Zeus stop Morpheus himself? Why must we be the playthings of the gods?" Snow White: "I don't know. Hercules never understood it either, but I know you won't be alone for whatever comes." Emma: "Yeah, about that, are you sure coming with me is the best play here? I mean you and Dad have lead armies before, you'd be of more use on the battlefield." Snow White: "Emma, the realms are united because of you and Regina. Frankly, they owe you their support and their armies that go with it. All of our friends and family who are capable of fighting are going to do so. Plus, with Tiana rallying the people of Wonderland, Ruby and Mulan convincing Merida to lead her army, and Jasmine preparing her men, there will be more than enough leaders when the battle comes. (Pulling Emma in for a hug:) Many years ago, David and I made a choice to sacrifice your future to save ourselves. Today we're choosing you." Wonderland. (Tiana looks out at the gathered crowd nervously. Will, Alice, Robin & Regina stand with her.) Tiana: "I'm sorry. I don't think there’s enough beignet magic in the world to get the people to agree to this." Regina: "You won't need magic. I've heard about what you've managed to achieve here. From one Queen to another, you've got this." Tiana: "Right. Queen. (Taking a deep breath, she walks forward and addresses the people:) Folks. Please listen. Our people, o-our friends are in trouble and..." (The people talk among themselves, not listening until...) Will: "Oi, you lot, listen up." (The people fall silent.) Tiana: "Since I became your queen, Wonderland has done things differently. Unlike rulers our land has known in the past, I like to think that I've listened to my people. Together, we created a council of advisers to make sure everyone's voice would be heard. This will all end the moment Lord Morpheus gets his way and that is why we must fight. These are strange times, and we need to stand together more than ever. Your realm needs you. Your Queen needs you."

Dun Broch. (Ruby and Mulan stand by as Merida speaks to the clans.) Merida: "Only a coward would start a war he has no intention of fighting in himself. That is who Lord Morpheus is, a so-called god who refuses to even show his true face. We didn't ask for this, but we will fight with everything we have. We're not ashamed of who we are. So let's show them what happens when you face the combined might of clans DunBroch, Macintosh, Dingwall, and Macguffin!" (All those gathered raise their arms and roar in approval.) Agrabah. (Jasmine stands in front of her father, The Sultan, as they discuss Agrabah's role in the upcoming battle.) Jasmine: "Trade agreements?! You won't allow the army of Agrabah to join the battle because of trade agreements?" Sultan: "Jasmine, my angel, how can I possibly dedicate our troops to fight in this conflict when Arendelle does not? It will make our partners look bad." Jasmine: "Elsa isn't sending her army because they will be protecting those from the combined realms who cannot fight! Arendelle isn't abstaining, they're defending." Sultan: "The fact remains, they are not sending troops, so neither can we." Jasmine: (Emits a scream of frustration:) "Oh, this is insane. I cannot believe you sometimes. But you know what? Maybe this is for the best.” Sultan: "Good, then we're in agreement." Jasmine: "Absolutely. Aladdin and I shall go, while you and Agrabah's army stays here like the bunch of inadequate imbeciles you are." (Jasmine storms from the room without another word.)

Underworld. Present. (Morpheus/Hades stands over Hook, admiring his handiwork.) Morpheus/Hades: "I'm afraid the time has come for me to leave you, Captain. You have been a most wonderful distraction, it's been exciting hasn't it?" Hook: (Bloodied and beaten, groans in pain and rolls over slightly:) “It will be... when I kill you.” Morpheus/Hades: (Laughs:) You can't kill me. I'm a god. (Chuckling:) This...  where we are now, is death.” Hook: “Well, then, I'll find whatever's worse and do it to you.” Morpheus/Hades: (Kneels beside him:) “The only thing that could kill me is the sword forged by Zeus from the remnants of the Olympian crystal. Even then, it can only work if it is wielded by the one true king to unite them all. Zeus placed it in my realm in an attempt to stop me, but luckily, no one knows where that is.” Henry’s Dreamscape. (Richard is seen wielding the sword... using the hilt to crack walnuts with.) Underworld. Continued. Morpheus/Hades: “So, Captain, (Pulling him to his feet:) since you are neither the one true king or currently in my realm, I’m not too worried.” Hook: “You’re just going to leave me down here?” Morpheus/Hades: “Oh I certainly could, but no. I’m going to give you a shot at redemption. A chance to escape the Underworld and return home a new man.” Hook: “And why would you do that?” Morpheus/Hades: “Because when I become the supreme ruler of all the realms of story, I’ll need someone to tell the people that I’m not such a bad guy. Orpheus and Eurydice, do those names ring a bell?” Hook: “I can’t say they do, no, but I’m sure you’ll tell me all about them.” Morpheus/Hades: “They are the only two souls known to have ever escaped the Underworld.” Hook: “How?” Morpheus/Hades: “Orpheus helped Eurydice escape by feeding her ambrosia, the food of the gods.” Hook: “And where exactly do you get some of that?” Morpheus/Hades: (Smiles:) “Glad to see you’re paying attention but, seeing as you’re not really dead, you won’t be needing any ambrosia. Which is good news because the real Hades chopped down the tree where the ambrosia grows from a long time ago. However, you will still need to follow in the lovers’ footsteps and find the room. Inside, there will be a portal that will take you wherever you wish to go. Now, listen closely, I shall say this only once.” Giant's Lair. Past. (Arlo and Jack are fighting. Meanwhile, Prince James is filling a sack full with treasure.) Jack: (Thrusting her sword into Arlo's heel:) “Uhh!” Arlo: “Aah! Ha!” (Arlo pulls the sword out from his heel. He lunges forward and grabs Jack.) Jack: “AAH! James! Aah! (James turns and sees she needs help, but he just stands there. Jack grunts as she tries to free herself before Arlo stabs her with her own sword:) UHH!” (Arlo drops Jack. Prince James goes back to filling his sack at a faster rate than before. The poison of the sword takes effect. Arlo loses his balance and collapses. Anton enters.) Anton: “Arlo? (He sees Arlo on the ground:) No. (Anton falls to his knees next to Arlo:) No, no, no, no!” (Prince James finishes filling his sack and starts to run toward the beanstalk.)

Jack: “James! (Prince James stops:) Please.” Prince James: “I'm sorry, Jack. But I have a kingdom to run. I'm sure you understand.” (Prince James runs off. Jack lets out a weak groan and dies.) Arlo: “Anton... the poison. It's in my blood. Did you...” Anton: “All destroyed. The fields and every last bean.” Arlo: “Oh, good. Good. That's what's important.” Anton: “No. Everyone else is dead. You can't die, too, please.” Arlo: “I know your path is hard. But someday you will know which road to choose. And when you do, (He pulls out a vial:) you will need this. A preserved cutting from the stalk. (Anton takes the vial:) Plant it. New beans will grow.” Anton: “But you had me salt the land. Nothing can grow here.” Arlo: “Then someday you will find... new land.” (Arlo dies.) Anton: “How? Arlo? Arlo?! (Whispers:) No.” Storybrooke. Present. (David stands looking down at the magic bean in his hand while Anton continues handing out beans to the others.) Anton: "It's been a good harvest this year and the beans are plentiful, but I've never heard of them being used in the Dream World before." David: "There's no guarantee once we're in Morpheus' realm that we'll all arrive at the same location. The beans are our best shot at gathering everyone in one place, it just may take a few tries."

Anton: (Reaches Emma and Regina:) "I heard what Morpheus has planned for you guys and er... I think you should take three each." Regina: "Thank you." Emma: "Thanks, Anton." (They hug.) Alice: (To Zelena:) "What did the people of Oz have to say?" Zelena: "Well, I've warned them. Whether any of them will turn up to do their part is another thing. But then again, what good would Munchkins be in a fight anyway?" Tiana: "Actually, you'd be surprised." Zelena: "What about you, any luck?" Tiana: "We took a vote and it's mostly going to be those who fought with me during the Black Fairy's curse and a few Lost Boys joining us." Zelena: "Better than nothing, I suppose. (To Robin:) Are you ready for this?" Robin: "Oh yeah, and while we're helping Aunt Regina, Alice and Will have a plan of their own." Zelena: "Really?" Alice: "Yep, Will and I have a history in the Dream World and we might just be able to use that to find Henry."

(Anton makes his way over to Rumplestiltskin and Belle.) Anton: "Regina and Emma told me Morpheus has plans for you too. So here, take a few extra beans." Belle: (As Rumple takes the beans:) "Thank you, Anton." Anton: (Nods. To Will:) "Will?" Will: "I'll take as many as you can spare, mate. I don't feel good about this at all." Rumplestiltskin: (Chuckles:) "Great. Now I'm in agreement with Will Scarlett." Belle: "Listen to me, Rumple. You have survived way worse than this. I know you'll find a way to save Henry and come back to us." Rumplestiltskin: "Belle, I don't know what I'd do without you." Belle: (They kiss:) "After this, you'll never have to find out, I promise." Henry’s Dreamscape. (Gareth is polishing his armour in his room when Madelena enters.) Queen Madelena: “I'm sorry your birthday's been such a bust. I really tried to get someone to hit you.” Gareth: “It's all right. It's just nice to know you care.”

Queen Madelena: “But I do have one last birthday surprise that unexpectedly arrived. I think you're going to love it. (Lord Morpheus enters the room:) How would you like an unprovoked war to seize control of all the realms?” Gareth: (Stands, throwing his sword over his shoulder:) “Best birthday present ever.” (Both Madelena and Morpheus laugh.) Morpheus: “Dingdong.” Storybrooke. (With their friends, family and several armies behind them, Regina and Emma stand in front of the sapling.) Emma: "So how does this work, exactly?" Blue Fairy: "As both of you share True Love with your son, when you touch the sapling together while thinking of Henry, a portal should open, taking you to him." Regina: "Morpheus said he'd send Emma and I to different realms as soon as we stepped into the Dream World. So once we open the portal, we need to be the last to enter. (To Emma:) Ready?" Emma: (Nods:) "Let's do this." (Taking each others hand, they both reach out and touch the sapling, causing the cave to fill with a brilliant green light.)

[sandersgrey]

Not a Tragedy

Part two of my Hadestown AU! Part one is here, and tells the story of how Patton (Persephone) and Logan (Hades) met and fell in love. This part tells the story of how Roman (Orpheus) and Virgil (Eurydice) did the same.

Part one. Part two is here. Part three. Part four. Part five. Part six. Part seven. Part eight. Part nine. Bonus. Part ten. Part eleven.

Once more, shot out for my lovely @thewritingasexual for helping me out with the beginning!! 

@hellomusicalnerdhere asked to be tagged. 

Word count: 1,251

Ao3 link: here.

This is not a tragedy.

In another world, this is a sad story and the Fates sang a tale of tragedy and heartbreak. In this one, it is not. This is a story about heartbreaks, but it’s also a story about healed hearts. Everything must break once. It doesn’t mean that what’s broken can’t be fixed someday. This is a story about how hearts were healed just as much as it is about how they were shattered to the ground.

The second part of this tale started like this: Roman fell in love.

(He wasn’t a god trying to create life from sterile ground, or a god with a heart made of iron and steel that for the first time melted. He was as human as it gets. Gifted, sure, but human, with blood in his veins and air in his lungs and a song in his lips and the need of praise. They say it was his music that made him different from the other mortals. I say his music was born from his humanity, at first.)

It was easy, as love stories tend to begin. Love at first sight is a much rarer thing than they would like you to believe. But it was easy. 

Virgil was around the campfire in the meeting place people were preparing for when the god of spring arrived. He would be considered average by anyone else in that night. The man wasn’t more beautiful than most, with his body that was thinnier than it could be considered healthy and the way he was always slouching, as if he wanted people to not have a reason to look at him. But there was something in his eyes that Roman saw— the kind of strenght you only get by enduring. The singer had seen that strenght in so many people before, that resilience that felt like steel and stone, but in Virgil it seemed to shine. His eyes were diamonds in the dim light the fire provided. 

And Roman– Roman fell.

“Roman, my boy! Won’t you sing us a song?”, laughed one of the men around the fire. “It’s too damn cold and this fire ain’t helping, at least warm our hearts.”

Roman smiled easier than he breathed, and sometimes he thought he sang easier than he smiled. With a last glance to the isolated boy that was closer to the trees than he was from the fire, the singer got up and walked to the workers.

 “Of course! What kind of song do you guys want, if I can ask?”

“Just sing whatever’s in your heart, boy”, the worker grinned, apparently not knowing he had just said the most dreaded words a singer could hear before a presentation. 

Roman had just the right song in mind this time, though, so he didn’t protest as he sat with them.

Virgil had been alone for a long time. 

He wasn’t sure how long. Didn’t really remember the last time he actually stopped at some place for more than a few days a time, or if someone had ever offered to travel with him. No matter what he tried, Virgil always ended up in the road again — it was difficult to keep a job and he had to eat somehow. Keeping himself in the road and getting temporary jobs was the only way to survive. Sometimes Virgil thought he wouldn’t know what to do with someone by his side. Other times, he thought he’d like to find out.

It was kind of overwhelming to be near so many people at a time, but the winter had been even harder on him than it usually was. He needed food, shelter, and safety, and he needed that quickly. There was safety in numbers, he knew, and there was rumours that wherever Patton went, there would be enough for everyone. Virgil could only hope they were true. 

It was cold where he sat, and the man couldn’t quite feel his fingers, but it was better than the overwhelming crowd. Virgil blew on his hands to keep them warm. 

And then he didn’t need to.

It was a song. Logically, Virgil knew that was all it was, lyrics and beat, a human voice. There was no god among them yet. But the sweetness and the warmth in that voice reminded him of things he never had, hands in his during cold days, a warm embrace to protect against the freezing wind. It felt like a warm cup of tea. Virgil didn’t realize he was crying until the tears fell on his hand. 

He looked up to the man who was singing. Roman, wasn’t that his name?, had a smile in his face as he sang, eyes squeezed tight and a hand dramatically in the air, despite the soft notes that dripped from his lips like honey. Virgil thought vaguely to himself that that was the face of a man that very much liked his work. He was also beautiful— beautiful as the fire that burned in the middle of the small crowd. Warm brown hair carefully brushed, broad shoulders and a sort of elegance to his moviments that was only achieved with that kind of confidence Virgil had never even tried to fake. He suddenly felt a urge to wrap his arms around the singer and find out how much warmer his body was compared to his song. Virgil blushed, grateful for the protection of the dark.

The song was the first, but not the last Roman sang that night. Everytime the singer would try to sit, someone else would incentive him to sing only one more, maybe two or three? And Roman would grin with the attention and soak it up like it was his last day in Earth, singing his heart out every time. Eventually, though, even the most stubborn workers had to admit that the man deserved a break, and Roman made his way to the man who had not stopped watching him since he started to sing.

It was a very dark night. Roman hadn’t noticed it before, close to the fire and the praise, but he could barely see his feet now. Maybe that’s why he tripped. Or maybe even now the Fates like to play. 

Virgil stood up in less than a second, safely wrapping his arms around Roman’s waist to make sure he wouldn’t get hurt. The man was just as warm as he imagined. The skin of his arms felt like it was burning from inside out, but Virgil didn’t really mind it when he saw Roman’s embarassed smile. It was way better than the cold.

“Don’t go falling for me”, Virgil said as a joke, hoping that the darkness wouldn’t let the singer notice his blush.

“Too late”, Roman smiled. There was not a suggestion of shame in his face, and Virgil’s eyes widened, his face burning. “May I know your name, beauty?”

“It’s- Virgil, I’m Virgil”, he stuttered, not used to the kind of attention Roman was giving him. Was he really interested? Was it all just a joke? “You’re- your name is Roman, right? I heard you singing…”

Roman grinned, pulling away from Virgil’s arms (who, the man noticed embarassed, were still around the singer’s waist before). Virgil didn’t have time to fell disappointed before Roman rested his hands on his shoulders and gently pulled him closer. “That’s my name”, he agreeded, smiling. “Aren’t you cold here, though, so far from the fire?”

Virgil looked at him and smiled. “Not anymore.”

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, TRIS! You’ve been accepted for the role of TITANIA. Admin Jen: Trish, your app was absolutely astonishing. I loved how deeply you unveiled Theodora, from your intricate analysis as you explained what drew you to them, to the detailed points you made in the future plots. You seem to have a grasp on infinite directions that you could take them in and it served as the best kind of prelude to the interview where they really bloomed to life before our very eyes. Your passion for them really shines through and it’s made your application very impactful to us overall. We can’t wait to see our beloved Titania on the dash! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Tris

Age | 22

Preferred Pronouns | he/him/his

Activity Level | 8; I’m itching to write in this universe, and barring any inconveniences, I plan to spend as much time as I can doing just that ♥ I’m waiting to hear about a job, also, but until then I can get online daily

Timezone | CST

Current/Past RP Accounts | here is my most recent account & here is my account from the first round of DV

In Character

Character | Theodora Moreau “Titania” & could I change their age to 27/their FC to Medalion Rahimi, please?

“A name is just a name,” Theodora drawls, almost sleepily and with a quiet sadness, but their eyes are wide awake and their lips are curled upwards. “Call out for your God and skin your knees, or summon the devil and bleed yourself dry. It doesn’t matter which.”They inch closer, their breath all at once so bitter and so sweet. Intoxicating. They’ve studied the vices of man for so long that they’ve learned how to become one themselves.“I’ll still arrive.” Death and life are the same being; it’s just comforting to think of them as sisters at war. Theodora knows that you have to take a breath to have it stripped from your lungs, and that you first have to be hollow if you ever wish to be whole. You have to be everything. Never limit yourself to a singular title. “Sing me your dreams, and whisper your fears. I can give you both.”

What drew you to this character? | There’s a strange sort of magic present in Theodora’s biography, something that kept drawing me back to them no matter how far I strayed while reading the rest of the cast. I spent a long time looking for that perfect muse, for that one character that was going to grip my imagination and refuse to let go, and through a process of restlessly running back and forth — I realized, without a doubt, that Titania was the endpoint of my search. Their hold on me was soft, lingering, so much so that I hardly noticed it at first; but they buried themselves in my thoughts and before long I found myself envisioning my application for them coming to life, thinking of all the metaphors I could write and the development I could experience and how I’d have the opportunity to breathe life into such a fantastic, unexplainable creature.

Titania enchants me because that’s exactly what they are — a divine figure, the closest thing to a modern deity. Their status hadn’t been hoisted upwards on the shoulders of an ancient surname, and their influence wasn’t purchased with blood-stained money; those things were as much thrust upon them as they were fairly earned. That’s how the legends go, do they not? A babe in the woods, raised by a witch to speak in riddles and trained by the wolves to never hide their teeth. Perhaps they were a faerie changeling, left in a crib overnight and unable to adapt to human society. Maybe they drove their mother mad. Regardless of the tale, regardless of the tragedy, a child is always left alone in Verona. Hungry and abandoned and shackled by a mortality that does not suit them. Theodora knows their truth. How they bleed just the same as anyone else, how their stomach growls just as loud. What it means to be unloved and unwanted and to dig through trash. There was a never a forest, no mystical flowers in their hair.

But they’ve managed to cast an illusion on the people of Verona, their godhood is self-made, and that’s why I’m so drawn to them. Because someone that the city would have once eaten alive managed to switch the script, they were able to seduce Lady Luck and swindle her for all that she was worth; and now Titania is a myth. Now they sleep and only dream — of maidens that could breathe underwater and how their ability was shared with a kiss, of a man in the sky who plucked Theodora from the ground because he thought one of his stars had fallen. There are no more night terrors. No memories of clutching to the leg of someone who was destined to walk away, of crying in the crimson streets, of having to beg for help. Begging to be wanted and treasured and feared. I want to write Titania, not simply because there’s so much that I want to help them discover, but because I know that there’s so much for me to learn about myself while writing them. Wouldn’t it be grand? To be a god-emperor.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? | — I definitely want to explore their relationship with Orpheus, to flesh it out and discover their dynamic alongside Stass. There’s so much potential there, something that is all at once so mythical and so human; so beautiful and so tainted. Their love is not sweet, but it is not necessarily cruel. Not always. There’s respect there, a bond that sings of destiny, but there’s also a rift between them and I want to get to the bottom of it. I want to understand their similarities and confront their differences. Why does Orpheus always come back to them, as if he has a lack of meals to sate his appetite, and why does Titania allow him to creep beneath their skin and their sheets? Why do they want to kiss him as much as they want to devour him? I know this is an expected plot, and it’s not all that exciting to discuss, but it’s something that I’m so excited for. Zeus and Hera have a connection that has stood the test of time; I wonder if Theodora and Orpheus will prove to be deathless in their own right.

— What if their creations fail to deliver, what if their position backfires on them? What if they lose their divinity? I’d love to see Titania struggle with their humanity, for their many glamours to be broken. At the core of themselves, they are mortal. Try as they might to prove otherwise, they know the reality of their situation. They’re as clever as they are manipulative, equally cunning and inventive, and the people of Verona have always been quick to throne new rulers. All they had to do was bewitch their minds, embracing the mystery that surrounded their origins and playing those beneath them like the fine strings of a lute. And the music that thrums around them is soft, a melody that sinks deep and spreads through your bones, but all faerie magic has a weakness. An iron sword to their throat and salt in their wounds, and one should always remember that Verona is just as prone to dethroning their kings. Theodora can’t be useful forever, they know that their legend will someday become a petrified tree in an evergreen forest, and that inevitable fate is what terrifies them most. They don’t want to relive their abandonment again.

— Their hands are more calloused than many would believe, a rough touch that’s apt to break fragile things. Titania’s relationship with Catherine is soft, almost gentle, a warped reflection of how Lavinia had raised them; but the difference is that Theodora is nothing like their mentor. Not really. Whereas they had been sheltered behind silk drapes and fed honey, Titania wants to protect Catherine in a more savage way. And it’s not that they want the young girl to wilt her petals, to remove her skin and reveal the thorns beneath, but they would hate for her to spend an eternity trapped in a tower of her own making. Always looking down at a cruel and hungry world. While it’s true that Theodora found the blessing within their upbringing, how to wield all the shadows and splendor and to create something sharp from both, Catherine is not fit for godhood. To be a saint is not to be the backbone of an empire. Not like Theodora has become, with their magic and their mythos. They will do all that it takes to keep Catherine safe, to keep her heart from being stolen and shattered and replaced with something cold. Not like theirs had been all those years ago. Even if it that means being the thief.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | Yes! Break my heart & I’ll break yours.

In Depth

In-Character Interview:

— What is your favorite place in Verona? ⦁ “My own mind.” They say it without pausing to think about their answer, not bothering to look over their shoulder and meet the gaze of the man that had asked the question. He has yet to realize that midnight affairs are meant to end before daybreak. Theodora watches as the early morning sun rises over Verona, as the shades between gold and silver blur until nothing is distinguishable, and they laugh. Turning away from the window, a soft halo of light breaking through the waves of their hair, they flash their teeth.

“Don’t mistake me. The city has many wonders, places that mean a great deal to me.” They close the distance between themselves and their lover, curling a finger beneath his chin and forcing him to stare upwards. Like he should be begging for mercy. Like he’s only just realized that he entered the chambers of a god. “Memories are fickle. Some remain, and some fade; but they’re always a part of who we are.” Theodora presses their fingers to his lips, smiling as he kisses the scarred and scented flesh. One bite of faerie food is all it takes to never hunger for anything more.

“Verona, I believe, has a mind of its own. And those buildings and all these soldiers and this war are all memories, some new and some ancient and some that have long been forgotten.” They pull away, walking backwards to where they had been standing and lifting their arms to grip the drapes that flow around them. “We have to share these things with each other. All the beauty and all the terror. And I’ve always been selfish.” They release the curtains and ward off the sunlight, plunging their room into darkness. “I don’t care about the landmarks and the gardens and all the places where blood has been shed. I want something that’s all my own.”

They tap a finger against their temple, smirking playfully. “I’m in Verona, am I not? And my thoughts are so wonderful. Why go to a museum when I can paint a masterpiece behind my eyelids? Why visit the symphony when I can conduct my own music?” They’re at his side before he realizes that they’ve been inching towards him, their arms wrapped around his torso and their lips brushing his throat. “Why spend my money at a brothel when boys like you are lining up to be eaten.” They tuck a stray lock of blonde behind his ear, moving to kiss his forehead. “I’m going to forget you, but Verona will always have your skeleton in its closet.”

— What does your typical day look like? ⦁ They scoff, rolling their eyes and disregarding the absurd question. “There’s nothing typical about me.” It’s blasphemy to assume anything about them could ever follow a routine, let alone be boring. After all, the Moreau heir has never experienced the same story twice. Yesterday they made love to a woman who sang the sweetest opera, a natural talent, but not quite; a bird had made its nest in her rib cage and she was cursed with its song. And tomorrow Theodora plans to kill a man who was born without eyes, who instead looks with his heart. He won’t even see them coming.

The mundane offends them, the thought that someone could ever relate to them and how they spend their time. Only Hera and the wolves have the right to say that they are familiar with Theodora. “I can’t answer.” They stalk off, disappearing within a matter of seconds and making their way through the shadows of Verona. There’s a bag of faerie blood in their pocket, a deal is waiting to be made around the corner; and it’s only then that they realize the one constant in their life. Outside of a particularly dangerous man and his dangerous smile, of course, but that’s a tale for another day. Zeus knows them, this is true, but he is nothing like them. (Right?)

Lucifer is always hard at work, but Theodora works harder. They invest pieces of themselves in every hour of each day, waiting until sunset to snatch them back and be complete once more. They are a true business-person, simple as that. They wear a silken dress in place of a suit, they hold their meetings in bars and kiss investors with liquor in their mouth, but the men of Wall Street could learn a thing or two from them. If anything about Theodora was going to be called average, something to be expected, it would be both their determination and their many enchantments. You can always find Theodora trying to bewitch someone.

— What has been your biggest mistake thus far? ⦁ “Loving.” Theodora says it quietly, a soft break in their voice, and they rise up to their feet and prepare to take flight. Courage and pride are two different beasts to tame. “I regret allowing myself to love.” They don’t tell the old woman who, exactly, but their eyes betray them. The way they glance away, how the dark brown depths begin to sparkle just barely. This is the stare of an abandoned child, and the way their fists clench proves that the abandonment followed them into adulthood.

Conversing with elders on park benches is a strange hobby, but something about the act brings Theodora comfort. They’re so terrified of old age that they prefer to confront the possibility at close range. That one day their hair will grey and their shoulders will hunch, that their bed will grow cold and empty and they’ll cease to be a god and become more of a witch. Still powerful, still feared, but a caricature of themselves; a little less divine. They gather their belongings and stand.

They wonder, often, what became of their mother. Of the father they never knew. They have no memories left of the woman beyond the one that haunts them, of a hoarse voice begging her to stay and a dead gaze that refused to look down. And then Theodora thinks of Lavinia, who abandoned them a different way, but a wound is still there nonetheless. How cruel it is, to mother something in the place of another and then to make the same departure. Orpheus crosses their mind, too, but just for a moment. They never promised each other to stay faithful.

“I must go.”

— What has been the most difficult task asked of you? ⦁ They clean their face of cosmetics and stare at the plainness of their features in a vanity mirror. There’s a note-card in their hand with a series of questions, silly things that shouldn’t require much thought, but the only way to control yourself is to know all the facets of your being. They’re caught off-guard for a moment, but they quickly find their resolve and clench their jaw. “To become a god.” And they’re looking straight at their reflection when they say it, making a metaphor out of themselves like they love to do so fondly, but the tone of their voice is more aggressive than dreamy.

Theodora lifts an elixir and massages their neck with the scent of lavender. For balance and peace of mind. It’s not regret they feel, not really, but more of a heavy burden. Something akin to what Atlas has been forced to endure for centuries. And they have to wonder if he had been a mortal boy with a hunger to be special, lifting the world to prove that he could and forced to carry it for an eternity. Maybe they’re more like him than Hera, or maybe there are too many gods living in their soul for there to ever be any serenity. They clawed their way to the top of Mt. Olympus and now they have the gall to complain about the view.

No, they’d never rid themselves of their divinity, but having to always be clever and sharp and magical can be tiring; and whereas many individuals of similar standing refuse to consider their mortality, that once they had simply been alone and afraid and starving, Theodora never allows themselves to forget. Maybe because they’re not ready to reveal their true potential, to rise through the clouds and hold lightning in their palms. Are they Zeus, too? Never satisfied and always ready to lash out? Perhaps. But they’re also just a person, living in a city of blood and brick. They’re not allowed to feel weak, to cry. Otherwise they’d flood the world. “I think I cursed myself.”

— What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues? ⦁ Theodora chuckles, almost blindsided by the question, but it’s hardly one that requires any thought. They lick their fingers clean and finish swallowing the remnants of their dessert, looking up at their companion and smirking with all their teeth on display. “Let them eat cake, I say.” It’s as simple as that. Regardless of their role in the chaos, how they’ve chosen a side, it’s the least of their concerns. The city of Verona will always be at war, and two men will always fight over control. It’s in the blindness of their rage, however, that the true rulers rise.

The Capulet emissary is much the same, playing their part to the best of their abilities, but only enough to keep the production going. What does it hurt if they’re a member of another cast? That they’re wearing enough masks to fund an entire masquerade ball out of only their likeness? Theodora laughs once more, caressing the cheek of the girl across from them and lifting a cherry to her lips. “Don’t you agree, darling?” A stream of red trickles down a pale chin. “Let them grow fat and complacent. Let their gluttony be the end of them.”

Let another pair of kings take their place; let Theodora continue their reign.

[tashaleway]

KVAAFCRS: Chapter Seven: A Whole New Day

Chapter Seven: A Whole New Day

Chapter Seven: A Whole New Day A/N: So, it's been a while. Yeah. Sorry about that. But hey! At least it's not been a year, right? This chapter annoyed me greatly. I started out with the list of the things, I wanted to happen in this chapter but it just took off so I had to re-write almost completely to make it fit with my timeline.

Karkat woke up early in his bed in the Slytherin dorms, drew back the curtains and was met with a faintly familiar face. The red-eyed boy from yesterday. Caliban or something.

"Good morning?" Karkat remembered how he'd blown up yesterday, and wanted to at least pretend to be somewhat polite. It wouldn't do to make too many enemies. That could wait until next year.

Caliban-whatever took that as an invitation and stepped closer.

"I believe that we got on the wrong foot yesterday. And I wished to remedy that. As I mentioned last evening, we Slytherins must stand together. The rest of the school looks down on us, and we must not show any weaknesses, especially not amongst ourselves. So, I would like to offer my hand, maybe not in friendship, but as allies. You need one, don't you?" Caliban-whatever held out his hand in invitation. Karkat didn't like the gleam in the other boy's eyes, but he didn't really have a choice, did he? Karkat was sure, if he didn't accept, he would be thrown to the wolves. Better be one of them, than their food.

He shook the offered hand and his headache lifted a bit.

~naknaknak~

The first day of school was crap. It usually was anywhere else, but Karkat was pretty sure that the first day was supposed to be a way of gently introducing to the classes, get to know each other and the teacher, and then perhaps get a plan on the different subjects. Hogwarts had obviously never heard of that. When they arrived at the classrooms, they were told to sit down, find their books, told what was expected of them, a quick explanation what the class was about, and then they jumped straight into it! They were supposed to try and transfigure a match into a needle in their first transfiguration class, for fucks sake!

Karkat had never been taught at a public school before, no he had always been home-schooled along with Kankri. Speaking of Kankri, it seemed like the world was trying its damned hardest for them not to meet up. When Karkat had woken up that morning he had decided he would have a talk with his brother and make sure they were still alright. But when he had arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast, he learned that Kankri had already eaten and left for his first classes. Karkat had then tried to follow and meet up before classes started, but the annoying kid, John had apparently spotted him and chatted him up all morning, right before classes had begun. Great.

And now he was here; in Transfiguration. Unable to focus, out of mind, worrying about what his brother would say to him later. Oh, and he had gained a new chatterbox of a follower. Mr-Sunglasses-Inside stole the seat next to Karkat as soon as he could and had not shut up since. One would think that the teacher would put a stop to it, but the kid had a gift of whispering so low that only Karkat could hear him. On top of that, the kid made sure to only speak when someone was writing something down, so the scratching of quills against parchment would mute him out. So, fuck that guy.

"Hey, so what did you get for question 14? I got 257," the guy would whisper. Karkat stared at him incredulously.

"This isn't bloody math, you absolute shitclusterfuck! It's not even an exam and we got fucking Transfiguration!" Karkat whispered as low as he could, trying to calm down and not get a detention. "What in the shitty world are you thinking?! Or is your lack of brain the reason you walk with those wall-fuckers called glasses? 'Cause that would explain everything about you!"

And then the guy would just smirk and snort and return to his notes. Karkat fucking hated him.

Even worse; as soon classes ended, Sir Sunglasses the Worst would follow him around and comment on every. Single. Thing.

"Hey, any idea why the Gryffindors hates us? I mean, I understand they're jealous, because… well, look at us! We're awesome, but still, they always sneer and growl at us. Do they think they’re lions or what? Hey! Does that mean we should hiss at them?? That would be fun, even though, everyone would think we’re furries, or, ew, copycats, yeah, scratch that idea! What about-“

“Can you PLEASE shut your dumbass piehole for just ONE second??! Every word out of your mouth is another nail in my skull, and I feel pretty crucified here! No, I’m beyond that! I’m beyond dead, I’m beyond saving! You can’t even play a pretty little song to the lord of the underworld to save me now! It’s too late! And even if you went so far and saved me, you would still have to guide me back to the living world, without looking back at me, and EVEN IF YOU WOULD HAVE ACCOMPLISHED THAT, I WOULD RATHER RUN BACK TO GET TORTURED EVEN MORE THAN LISTEN YO ANOTHER WORD FROM YOU! SO PLEASE JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU BRAIN-DEAD DUMB-FUCKING-“

“KARKAT VANTAS! DETENTION!”

“…Fuck…”

~naknaknaknaknaknaknak~

Karkat hated his life. It was nothing new, but today had to be the worst of all. First, he hadn’t been able to talk to Kankri at all because of the dumbass classes. Second, the classes themselves. They were horrible. Or maybe it was just Karkat. Whatever. Third, he hadn't had a chance to talk to Kanaya, the only sane person at this castle of insanity. Fourth, he had gotten himself some kind of a stalker. Or perhaps his own personal chatterbox, who got Karkat thrown into detention. Thanks, pal! Fifth, the detention itself, which was another thing that made it impossible to talk with his brother. Sixth, his companion at the detention; the blabbermouth himself! How awesome was that?! Apparently the idiot had tried to skate down the handrails of the stairs. He luckily got stopped before he got himself injured, but he ultimately landed himself in detention alongside Karkat. So yeah, his life was the worst.

Karkat tried to concentrate on a very stubborn piece of slimy and smelly potion in the cauldron he was cleaning. Meanwhile, Dave Strider; Ultimate Worst Person Ever, saw this as an opportunity to keep on talking.

"-and it was so cool! I would totally make it, of course, nothing can harm a Strider. Too bad the teacher was there, but I'm probably gonna try again tomorrow, wanna join? You can film me- wait… oh yeah, phones doesn't work here. Dammit! Oh well… hey! We can see what they are hiding behind the forbidden door! That'd be so epic! We can have bragging rights, and if we die, we at least left here in the most cool way ever! Unless of course the only reason it's locked, is because the room is full of deadly poison, then it wouldn't be as cool, I don't know about you, but if I ever die, it should only be because I did something very cool-"

"Like trying to fucking murder yourself by skating down the stairs??"

"Yeah. Something like that. Thanks, Kitkat, I knew you'd get me."

"Kitkat??!! Don't fucking call me that, you spewing magpie! My name's Karkat, not that you will ever need it, because our conversation ends here! Never talk to me again!" Karkat yelled. That would probably have prompted another detention, but for once, Karkat was lucky, and the seventh-year student had left the room five minutes prior to fetch their homework so they could work on it until the detention would be over in half an hour.

Those thirty minutes couldn't pass soon enough.

"Karkat?"

"Kaaarkaaaat"

Kaaaaaaaaaaaarkiiiittyyy"

"Kitkat?"

"Karkles"

"Karkat, are you ignoring me??"

"If you ignore me for much longer, I'll DIE! I need attention to live!" and with that dramatic speech, Dave toppled over the cauldron he was cleaning, getting sticky, black goo on his robes. Karkat still ignored him. Dave would give up eventually. But unfortunately for Karkat, he didn't know his housemate that well. And he had no idea how far Dave would go to get what he wanted.

It was silent for a few blessed moments.

"You killed me, Kitkat… My blood is on your hands… now…" Dave whispered and gave a final death rattle and mistakenly sticking his tongue out. And thereby accidentally touching the dirty cauldron. He flinched back with a scream that made Karkat burst out laughing. The first time he'd laughed in weeks. It felt good. And to imagine it was the pest, Dave, that made him do it.

His head hurt

Dave shot him a relieved smile, not that it was noticed by the laughing kid. Dave was happy. He'd been worried he wouldn't gain any friends, as he was pretty hard to get along with, and while Karkat had seemed like an unappreciable guy, he'd already heard some nasty rumors about the guy, both in Diagon Alley and on the train. And these rumors hadn't lessened a bit, since their arrival at the school. Getting sorted into the same House as Karkat had been a sign to Dave to immediately befriend the guy. Dave knew from personal experience that nobody wanted to talk to, let alone, befriend the weird guy, that everyone was gossiping about. It had taken hours, and the short, angry kid already hated Dave, but now it seemed that Karkat could potentially warm up to him. Maybe. Yeah… Maybe…

He hoped.

~naknaknak~

After the detention, they headed to the common room together, in higher spirits, joking around. That was, until they met one, Rose Lalonde.

A/N: I imagine that most of you would recognize what I was referencing in Karkat’s little rant, but if there’s an unlucky soul that either don’t know it, or if I was not that great in writing it, I’ll let you know that it’s the Greek myth about Orpheus who lost his wife (Eurydice), and traveled to the underworld to get her back. Most people already know this myth so I'm not gonna blab on about it. Cheers! (I also quickly want to mention that again, the way Karkat is thinking about the different houses are merely a by-product of his upbringing and rumors he's heard. I, the author don’t think that way. So, when Karkat associates Slytherins with wolves, that's just because he's a dramatic child that believes everything Kankri told him and from what Karkat can tell how Caliborn acts.

Over and out - TL!