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Practical Ethics Masterpost
Jun. 8th, 2020 07:03 pmThis is a no-magic modern AU where Dr. Viren is a professor researching scary questionably ethical bionanotech(?) weapons & countermeasures at Katolis University.
Dr. Harrow is recently separated from his military wife and struggling to balance family & a new job as a history professor.
It's friendship at first meeting, but as their relationship grows, Viren has to confront the conflict between his life's work and the kind of future Harrow thinks is worth any sacrifice.
aka my several times abandoned once-and-future Nano project & attempt to write something like a slowburn that kind of almost has a plot or a theme or something
First Meeting: lonespark.dreamwidth.org/120846.html
Storm and Shelter: lonespark.dreamwidth.org/244628.html
Cold and Comfort: lonespark.dreamwidth.org/222172.html
Dr. Harrow is recently separated from his military wife and struggling to balance family & a new job as a history professor.
It's friendship at first meeting, but as their relationship grows, Viren has to confront the conflict between his life's work and the kind of future Harrow thinks is worth any sacrifice.
aka my several times abandoned once-and-future Nano project & attempt to write something like a slowburn that kind of almost has a plot or a theme or something
First Meeting: lonespark.dreamwidth.org/120846.html
Storm and Shelter: lonespark.dreamwidth.org/244628.html
Cold and Comfort: lonespark.dreamwidth.org/222172.html
The special book
Jun. 4th, 2020 09:05 pmCN: dangerous, destructive fire, reading & sharing a private diary,
The royal family has kindly provided Viren with several books and pens. He uses these to record spells and studies, filling them quickly with copious research and the ideas the research inspires. The ideas lead to more research, which leads to more ideas, which leads to a need for more books and quills and ink.
Prince Harrow has taken to stopping by the library in the evening. He knows he'll find Viren there, usually curled on a bench with his latest tome. Harrow delivers fresh supplies and sometimes asks what he's reading. Viren gushes about history and magic, honing his dramatic storytelling to hold Harrow's interest, and tries to hide his blushes in response to the prince's smiles.
On weekend mornings Viren rises early and goes out into the hills to gather spell ingredients, and sometimes to read and write in seclusion in his special book. This one he bought himself in the market, and in it he writes private, secret, impractical things. On a few occasions he attempts poetry.
In the later morning he wanders back near the castle, and often finds Harrow with a picnic basket and plans for the afternoon. Sometimes Viren gets pulled into games or schemes with the prince's other friends, but often they spend time together, alone. No matter how dirty he gets, or how much they argue, Viren treasures the time.
He treasures the memories, too, and the feelings wrapped up in them. They're bright and warm and often confusing, and they find their way into his special book.
***
When the apprentices and acolytes are sent on retreat to prepare for their final year of training, they can only take a few possessions, but he can't make himself leave the book behind. He writes in it more than ever, missing Harrow and dreaming of him. He writes letters he would never send, and love ballads with the names and details changed to fit his fantasies.
He always keeps track of the book's location, until the night when they're sent to fight a fire threatening a nearby village. The wind changes, and the last remnant of the fire races through the forest and their camp. With spells, and shovels, and what water they can carry, they save every life, and a haphazard horde of belongings.
Opeli is tasked with sorting the unclaimed books and papers. Viren's special book is singed, with its covers charred completely. She holds it up and asks who claims it, but Viren turns away, ashamed.
He should have realized she would read it. She brings it to him later, and he snarls about private words. She snaps back that she was doing her duty, and since he's so ungrateful she's going to enjoy reporting his impropriety to the prince.
Viren's heart clenches with dread. He can't bring himself to beg her not to, yet he spends every hour of the journey back in despair.
***
He wants to avoid Harrow to postpone the inevitable. He falls into bed exhausted, thrice-bathed but still brushing ash from his hair and tasting it when he breathes.
When he wakes there's a note by the bed. He puts off getting up for a while, then finally trudges off to what feels like doom. But the prince's expression is mild, and his tone is gentle.
"She told me what's in it. She seemed to think it was scandalous, but I don't see why. It's not like you're marching into the throne room demanding my hand in marriage." He laughs at the ridiculous notion. Viren tries to join him, but only manages a choking noise, as that image settles firmly into his repertoire of daydreams.
"Anyway, I'm sorry you had your private thoughts exposed, and I want you to know it doesn't change anything. I'm glad you're safe and back beside me."
Harrow claps a hand on his shoulder, then sort of lunges into an awkward hug that has Viren staggering back a step. The closeness and relief are overwhelming, and as soon as the prince lets go he retreats to the door.
Harrow calls, "Wait," and holds out the book. Viren doesn't take it.
He says, "You can read it, if you want."
Harrow frowns. "But you don't want me to."
Viren covers his face with his hands. His throat is tight. "I don't know!"
Harrow pats his elbow reassuringly.
"Alright, I'll read it. We can talk about it at lunch on Sunday."
***
It felt like the right choice then, but as lunchtime on Sunday approaches, Viren starts to panic. He brings his customary contribution of drink and specially selected cheese and starts serving it to an unusually quiet and flustered-looking Harrow.
The silence is awkward, but Viren can't think how to break it, so he just eats.
"I was wrong."
Harrow won't look at him, awkwardly clenching his fingers in his hair, and Viren suddenly forgets how to swallow, or breathe.
"I thought it wouldn't change anything, because I've thought of you as my best friend for so long." Harrow takes a deep breath. He picks up a fork and starts tapping it against his leg. "I guess I never thought we could be, um... more than that. But now, I can't stop thinking about it..."
Viren makes an absurd and undignified sound of shocked happiness. It makes Harrow grin and giggle, and then keep laughing, dragging Viren with him into laughter. Into sprawling on the blanket, lightheaded and trembling as his prince takes his hand.
"I missed you so much. I wrote letters, too, and didn't send them. But they weren't like what you wrote. It was beautiful."
There's a quick, furtive brush of lips against his cheek, before they sit up again to eat lunch. Harrow doesn't stop holding his hand, or looking at him and breaking into shy, soft smiles.
There's warm peach pie for dessert, with ice cream, and they feed it to each other in small bites. Harrow wipes a trace off Viren's lip with his thumb. He leans in til their lips nearly touch, and Viren closes the distance.
***
"Next time you go out, come wake me up. I want to go with you."
The guards give him knowing smiles.
Waking Harrow is a challenge. When he finally tries parting the curtains, the prince covers his eyes and squawks like an affronted parrot. Then he focuses, grins, and beckons Viren to the bed. Harrow's morning breath is atrocious, but a small price to pay for the warmth that spreads all the way to his toes when they kiss.
Viren waits on the balcony for his prince to dress. When Harrow joins him, the arm across his shoulder is familiar, but the caressing touch is new, and welcome in a way that makes his heart ache.
In courtyard below, acolytes are returning from morning prayer. Viren recognizes Opeli's voice and entertains the fleeting thought that he should thank her.
Harrow is once again wearing that shy, sweet smile he can't help but match. They gaze out over the kingdom together.
The royal family has kindly provided Viren with several books and pens. He uses these to record spells and studies, filling them quickly with copious research and the ideas the research inspires. The ideas lead to more research, which leads to more ideas, which leads to a need for more books and quills and ink.
Prince Harrow has taken to stopping by the library in the evening. He knows he'll find Viren there, usually curled on a bench with his latest tome. Harrow delivers fresh supplies and sometimes asks what he's reading. Viren gushes about history and magic, honing his dramatic storytelling to hold Harrow's interest, and tries to hide his blushes in response to the prince's smiles.
On weekend mornings Viren rises early and goes out into the hills to gather spell ingredients, and sometimes to read and write in seclusion in his special book. This one he bought himself in the market, and in it he writes private, secret, impractical things. On a few occasions he attempts poetry.
In the later morning he wanders back near the castle, and often finds Harrow with a picnic basket and plans for the afternoon. Sometimes Viren gets pulled into games or schemes with the prince's other friends, but often they spend time together, alone. No matter how dirty he gets, or how much they argue, Viren treasures the time.
He treasures the memories, too, and the feelings wrapped up in them. They're bright and warm and often confusing, and they find their way into his special book.
***
When the apprentices and acolytes are sent on retreat to prepare for their final year of training, they can only take a few possessions, but he can't make himself leave the book behind. He writes in it more than ever, missing Harrow and dreaming of him. He writes letters he would never send, and love ballads with the names and details changed to fit his fantasies.
He always keeps track of the book's location, until the night when they're sent to fight a fire threatening a nearby village. The wind changes, and the last remnant of the fire races through the forest and their camp. With spells, and shovels, and what water they can carry, they save every life, and a haphazard horde of belongings.
Opeli is tasked with sorting the unclaimed books and papers. Viren's special book is singed, with its covers charred completely. She holds it up and asks who claims it, but Viren turns away, ashamed.
He should have realized she would read it. She brings it to him later, and he snarls about private words. She snaps back that she was doing her duty, and since he's so ungrateful she's going to enjoy reporting his impropriety to the prince.
Viren's heart clenches with dread. He can't bring himself to beg her not to, yet he spends every hour of the journey back in despair.
***
He wants to avoid Harrow to postpone the inevitable. He falls into bed exhausted, thrice-bathed but still brushing ash from his hair and tasting it when he breathes.
When he wakes there's a note by the bed. He puts off getting up for a while, then finally trudges off to what feels like doom. But the prince's expression is mild, and his tone is gentle.
"She told me what's in it. She seemed to think it was scandalous, but I don't see why. It's not like you're marching into the throne room demanding my hand in marriage." He laughs at the ridiculous notion. Viren tries to join him, but only manages a choking noise, as that image settles firmly into his repertoire of daydreams.
"Anyway, I'm sorry you had your private thoughts exposed, and I want you to know it doesn't change anything. I'm glad you're safe and back beside me."
Harrow claps a hand on his shoulder, then sort of lunges into an awkward hug that has Viren staggering back a step. The closeness and relief are overwhelming, and as soon as the prince lets go he retreats to the door.
Harrow calls, "Wait," and holds out the book. Viren doesn't take it.
He says, "You can read it, if you want."
Harrow frowns. "But you don't want me to."
Viren covers his face with his hands. His throat is tight. "I don't know!"
Harrow pats his elbow reassuringly.
"Alright, I'll read it. We can talk about it at lunch on Sunday."
***
It felt like the right choice then, but as lunchtime on Sunday approaches, Viren starts to panic. He brings his customary contribution of drink and specially selected cheese and starts serving it to an unusually quiet and flustered-looking Harrow.
The silence is awkward, but Viren can't think how to break it, so he just eats.
"I was wrong."
Harrow won't look at him, awkwardly clenching his fingers in his hair, and Viren suddenly forgets how to swallow, or breathe.
"I thought it wouldn't change anything, because I've thought of you as my best friend for so long." Harrow takes a deep breath. He picks up a fork and starts tapping it against his leg. "I guess I never thought we could be, um... more than that. But now, I can't stop thinking about it..."
Viren makes an absurd and undignified sound of shocked happiness. It makes Harrow grin and giggle, and then keep laughing, dragging Viren with him into laughter. Into sprawling on the blanket, lightheaded and trembling as his prince takes his hand.
"I missed you so much. I wrote letters, too, and didn't send them. But they weren't like what you wrote. It was beautiful."
There's a quick, furtive brush of lips against his cheek, before they sit up again to eat lunch. Harrow doesn't stop holding his hand, or looking at him and breaking into shy, soft smiles.
There's warm peach pie for dessert, with ice cream, and they feed it to each other in small bites. Harrow wipes a trace off Viren's lip with his thumb. He leans in til their lips nearly touch, and Viren closes the distance.
***
"Next time you go out, come wake me up. I want to go with you."
The guards give him knowing smiles.
Waking Harrow is a challenge. When he finally tries parting the curtains, the prince covers his eyes and squawks like an affronted parrot. Then he focuses, grins, and beckons Viren to the bed. Harrow's morning breath is atrocious, but a small price to pay for the warmth that spreads all the way to his toes when they kiss.
Viren waits on the balcony for his prince to dress. When Harrow joins him, the arm across his shoulder is familiar, but the caressing touch is new, and welcome in a way that makes his heart ache.
In courtyard below, acolytes are returning from morning prayer. Viren recognizes Opeli's voice and entertains the fleeting thought that he should thank her.
Harrow is once again wearing that shy, sweet smile he can't help but match. They gaze out over the kingdom together.
undiscovered country
May. 19th, 2020 11:33 amWhat if kinda vaguely like The Martian but varrai & so far none of the fun parts?
CN: grief, funeral
"There's no goddamn way this should have fucking happened! There were safety factors within safety factors! There are plenty of risks, but this one should be fucking impossible!"
Sarai nods.
"I know."
She feels numb, like thoughts arrive slowly after breaching a protective barrier, but she does understand. Viren doesn't have to keep yelling.
"We need to learn a lot more about surface weather conditions, and fast! We have to redesign the suits, and the protocols, immediately, so this can never, ever happen! I hate making pitches and calls but this is earthshatteringly important so..."
"Those are good ideas," Sarai tells him, "But they don't all have to happen today. They probably can't. We can take some time to be sad."
Viren just growls, "Fuck you!" and leaves. She doesn't see him again til the funeral.
***
Sarai is still numb.
She was drinking, but it didn't seem to help, so she stopped.
Viren, of course, doesn't do numb. He only does distracted, or plummeting into the abyss. She watches him try unsuccessfully to stave off the second option with an alarming volume of alcohol until the bar closes. Then she invites him to keep doing it with tolerable wine on her couch.
Because he shouldn't be alone, and because she doesn't want to be, and everyone else at the funeral knew Harrow and loved him, but it's not the same.
They dated pretty seriously before they started working together and decided to to put that on hold. But Viren has always been an immutable touchstone in Harrow's life. Not just the emergency contact and next of kin, although he is that. A guiding light and a place to land, if not always a soft one. Another vital part of their perfectly imperfect love.
She has shared a lot with Viren over the years. Now they get to add tears, and snot, and this all-consuming pain. It feels like the grief shattered her soul, and came back to grind it to dust.
Yet some persistent, unimportant parts remain... and one of them hopes Viren isn't going to throw up on her very nice and expensive funeral pants. At this point he's mostly just crying in her lap, but sometimes he chokes out words.
"We can't... can't even bring him home!"
"Yeah. That sucks!" She smacks the table and topples her mostly-empty wineglass. It fucking hurts. "But... well... First corpse on a new planet? You know he would think that's kind of cool."
Viren's eyes widen. He wipes his eyes and sits up.
"That is cool! That's really cool." He reaches out and they hug like they'll never let go. "We'll make it mean something."
CN: grief, funeral
"There's no goddamn way this should have fucking happened! There were safety factors within safety factors! There are plenty of risks, but this one should be fucking impossible!"
Sarai nods.
"I know."
She feels numb, like thoughts arrive slowly after breaching a protective barrier, but she does understand. Viren doesn't have to keep yelling.
"We need to learn a lot more about surface weather conditions, and fast! We have to redesign the suits, and the protocols, immediately, so this can never, ever happen! I hate making pitches and calls but this is earthshatteringly important so..."
"Those are good ideas," Sarai tells him, "But they don't all have to happen today. They probably can't. We can take some time to be sad."
Viren just growls, "Fuck you!" and leaves. She doesn't see him again til the funeral.
***
Sarai is still numb.
She was drinking, but it didn't seem to help, so she stopped.
Viren, of course, doesn't do numb. He only does distracted, or plummeting into the abyss. She watches him try unsuccessfully to stave off the second option with an alarming volume of alcohol until the bar closes. Then she invites him to keep doing it with tolerable wine on her couch.
Because he shouldn't be alone, and because she doesn't want to be, and everyone else at the funeral knew Harrow and loved him, but it's not the same.
They dated pretty seriously before they started working together and decided to to put that on hold. But Viren has always been an immutable touchstone in Harrow's life. Not just the emergency contact and next of kin, although he is that. A guiding light and a place to land, if not always a soft one. Another vital part of their perfectly imperfect love.
She has shared a lot with Viren over the years. Now they get to add tears, and snot, and this all-consuming pain. It feels like the grief shattered her soul, and came back to grind it to dust.
Yet some persistent, unimportant parts remain... and one of them hopes Viren isn't going to throw up on her very nice and expensive funeral pants. At this point he's mostly just crying in her lap, but sometimes he chokes out words.
"We can't... can't even bring him home!"
"Yeah. That sucks!" She smacks the table and topples her mostly-empty wineglass. It fucking hurts. "But... well... First corpse on a new planet? You know he would think that's kind of cool."
Viren's eyes widen. He wipes his eyes and sits up.
"That is cool! That's really cool." He reaches out and they hug like they'll never let go. "We'll make it mean something."
Stories matter
May. 17th, 2020 11:48 amA friend & hero of mine made a big post about pain and fear and having to hide who she is growing up, and why it matters so, so much to have queer-affirming entertainment, especially kid-friendly stuff like Stephen Universe & the new She-Ra.
I have somewhat similar feelings, especially about depictions of queer parents. I cried every time I saw them in The Dragon Prince.
Last night I finished watching Killjoys and the last few seasons had complex relationships between heroes and between former antagonists, where a complicated queer family is central to the big plot, and the ending is happy and I AM VERY EMOTIONAL!!!
And I'll never be over Korrasami, especially since I watched that show with my kids.
I'll never be over anything that shows that queer ppl are queer all the time, that no one gets to stamp heteronormativity on our lives and families.
I have somewhat similar feelings, especially about depictions of queer parents. I cried every time I saw them in The Dragon Prince.
Last night I finished watching Killjoys and the last few seasons had complex relationships between heroes and between former antagonists, where a complicated queer family is central to the big plot, and the ending is happy and I AM VERY EMOTIONAL!!!
And I'll never be over Korrasami, especially since I watched that show with my kids.
I'll never be over anything that shows that queer ppl are queer all the time, that no one gets to stamp heteronormativity on our lives and families.
Ghost Sarai
May. 12th, 2020 08:26 pmViren kept everything he could think of: breath, blood, hair... even a trivial volume of tears. He couldn't take bone without raising suspicion, and by now it most likely meant nothing. Yet Viren persisted, refusing to succumb to frustration and despair.
The spell should have worked! He should have been able to tether the queen's soul, to feed it with his own life force, and to grant her the chance to return to inhabiting a body. All the time and energy he had to spare after casting the titan's heart spell had gone into searching for ways to strengthen the connection that should have been made. Yet his efforts had seemingly failed, and time was running out.
Viren slumped on his workbench, surrendering to sleep reluctantly in the wee hours once again. He awoke to the feeling of icy mist on his face and neck. An echoing suggestion of a voice said, "You do look sweet when you're sleeping, but this mess is all your fault!"
Viren sat up quickly, striking his head on a shelf. In the darkness of the room, he could make out a shimmering apparition bearing the likeness of queen Sarai.
"I never gave you permission, you know. Discussing a possibility isn't the same as agreeing to try it. But since it's done, I want to talk to my husband."
Viren felt sick. Harrow would never forgive him for meddling with hope and grief, and life and death, especially without the queens' consent. Hopefully, this was just another dream.
"Dammit, Viren, don't be a coward! If you won't do it willingly, I'll find a way to make you!"
Sarai's voice sounded different now, like it was vibrating inside his own head. Suddenly Viren's own right hand smacked him in the forehead.
"Ohh... this is... interesting..." Sarai sounded grimly amused. "I'm new at this, so if I try making you walk, you'll probably fall, or smash into things..."
Taking the hint, Viren made his way to the king's chamber.
***
Harrow was as incredulous, confused, angry, sad, and resentful as Viren had imagined. But after he had interrogated the mage and demanded more research and answers, he turned all his attention to the ghostly form of his beloved wife.
Viren's physical presence was needed, but he was able to wait by the door, beyond the reach of their private words. Harrow called him back to say goodbye as Sarai was fading from sight.
"She thinks she'll be back, but..." Sorrow made the king's voice break. "...she isn't... certain..." Viren nodded gravely.
"Thank you, Viren," Harrow whispered, pulling him into an embrace. "Thank you for giving us this."
***
"I want to touch him."
This time, when Sarai's sudden presence startled him, Viren dropped a jar of moth antennae, which was luckily enspelled not to break.
"I think it would work. I've tried it while you were sleeping."
"Tried what while I was sleeping?!?"
"Touching things. With your hands." He must have looked scandalized or suspicious, because she quickly added, "Harmless things! Like your blanket... and your hair. It feels so good!" She turned a piercing gaze on him. "Don't you dare take that for granted while you have it!"
Viren looked away, trembling.
"I'll do my best, Your Majesty."
Her expression softened.
"I don't think the dead need titles."
"I'll do my best, Sarai, I promise."
***
The spell should have worked! He should have been able to tether the queen's soul, to feed it with his own life force, and to grant her the chance to return to inhabiting a body. All the time and energy he had to spare after casting the titan's heart spell had gone into searching for ways to strengthen the connection that should have been made. Yet his efforts had seemingly failed, and time was running out.
Viren slumped on his workbench, surrendering to sleep reluctantly in the wee hours once again. He awoke to the feeling of icy mist on his face and neck. An echoing suggestion of a voice said, "You do look sweet when you're sleeping, but this mess is all your fault!"
Viren sat up quickly, striking his head on a shelf. In the darkness of the room, he could make out a shimmering apparition bearing the likeness of queen Sarai.
"I never gave you permission, you know. Discussing a possibility isn't the same as agreeing to try it. But since it's done, I want to talk to my husband."
Viren felt sick. Harrow would never forgive him for meddling with hope and grief, and life and death, especially without the queens' consent. Hopefully, this was just another dream.
"Dammit, Viren, don't be a coward! If you won't do it willingly, I'll find a way to make you!"
Sarai's voice sounded different now, like it was vibrating inside his own head. Suddenly Viren's own right hand smacked him in the forehead.
"Ohh... this is... interesting..." Sarai sounded grimly amused. "I'm new at this, so if I try making you walk, you'll probably fall, or smash into things..."
Taking the hint, Viren made his way to the king's chamber.
***
Harrow was as incredulous, confused, angry, sad, and resentful as Viren had imagined. But after he had interrogated the mage and demanded more research and answers, he turned all his attention to the ghostly form of his beloved wife.
Viren's physical presence was needed, but he was able to wait by the door, beyond the reach of their private words. Harrow called him back to say goodbye as Sarai was fading from sight.
"She thinks she'll be back, but..." Sorrow made the king's voice break. "...she isn't... certain..." Viren nodded gravely.
"Thank you, Viren," Harrow whispered, pulling him into an embrace. "Thank you for giving us this."
***
"I want to touch him."
This time, when Sarai's sudden presence startled him, Viren dropped a jar of moth antennae, which was luckily enspelled not to break.
"I think it would work. I've tried it while you were sleeping."
"Tried what while I was sleeping?!?"
"Touching things. With your hands." He must have looked scandalized or suspicious, because she quickly added, "Harmless things! Like your blanket... and your hair. It feels so good!" She turned a piercing gaze on him. "Don't you dare take that for granted while you have it!"
Viren looked away, trembling.
"I'll do my best, Your Majesty."
Her expression softened.
"I don't think the dead need titles."
"I'll do my best, Sarai, I promise."
***
Three vines grow up between the statues, in the Valley of Graves.
Sometimes the king's children wander. Sometimes they beg for stories.
The three vines spread and twist, around the statues and each other. Two of them bear flowers in red and gold.
"What about this one?" the eldest asks, pointing to the vine with purple flowers, streaked with midnight black. "Why are the thorns so big and sharp?"
The High Mage is ancient, and fearsome, and wise. When she answers, it's wistful, and bitter, and fond.
"Oh," she says, "If you knew him, you'd understand."
Sometimes the king's children wander. Sometimes they beg for stories.
The three vines spread and twist, around the statues and each other. Two of them bear flowers in red and gold.
"What about this one?" the eldest asks, pointing to the vine with purple flowers, streaked with midnight black. "Why are the thorns so big and sharp?"
The High Mage is ancient, and fearsome, and wise. When she answers, it's wistful, and bitter, and fond.
"Oh," she says, "If you knew him, you'd understand."
Hail to the Lake Mother, ancient and cold
Hail to the springs ever-flowing
Hail to the wells and the witchers of water
May we yet live, though the rivers run dry
Hail to the land where the rivers run dry
Where they flow underground
Where the stones carry memory
Where roots drive deep
Into ancient scars
Finding the water
Showing what shifted
Where the lakes and the oceans
Have all turned to stone
And the stone tells the story
To those who would listen
Hail to the springs ever-flowing
Hail to the wells and the witchers of water
May we yet live, though the rivers run dry
Hail to the land where the rivers run dry
Where they flow underground
Where the stones carry memory
Where roots drive deep
Into ancient scars
Finding the water
Showing what shifted
Where the lakes and the oceans
Have all turned to stone
And the stone tells the story
To those who would listen
V & H get parts in HS play as legendary divine heroic brothers
Lujanne, who's the college student director, is emphatic that "They have a platonic relationship! A brotherly bond! No one should try out for these roles if there's a chance they have unresolved sexual tension!"
They start running lines together. Nerd Viren keeps interjecting facts about the source material.
"This is just one version of the myth. Sometimes they're lovers."
"And brothers,too?"
"Well, technically, I guess, since they were the only two beings in the universe for aeons. Brothers and enemies and friends and lovers and enemies again and comrades in arms... Gods can be like that. There's no one true version..."
"I can't do this. Ever since you said that thing about how they were lovers I've been thinking about it, and about us playing the roles, but that's wrong because you're like my brother..."
"Whoa, Harrow... I have never once thought of you as a brother."
"...never?"
Viren shakes his head.
"But... after your parents died, when you were living with us... You'd come to my bed when you had nightmares. I'd hug you til you fell asleep. And when I was hurting you'd tell me stories to distract me..."
Viren pats his arm and squeezes gently.
"Yeah. It's not like I've forgotten. I love you, in a way that goes beyond any other friendship I can imagine. But not in a way that prevents me from appreciating how mind-meltingly hot you are lately."
He blushes he says it, and looks at the script lying on the floor between them.
Harrow grins at him, feeling himself flush, feels warmth grow in his chest and spread out through his body. He moves the script and slides across the carpet so they're touching.
"I guess I have caught you staring at me sometimes, but I didn't want to assume... Mind-meltingly hot?"
"Yeah, well, half the school thinks so, too. But I've seen you shirtless, so I win."
"Hmmm... I've seen you shirtless, so I win, too."
Harrow undoes the top three buttons of his shirt. He does it slowly, in an exaggerated pantomime of stripping, thinking he's being ridiculous and Viren will laugh and this will be less intense, but Viren just stares, his expression between "dreamy" and "worshipful." (Maybe he should have added sound effects.)
Intense is alright. It's Harrow's heart hammering in his chest as he leans to meld their lips together for the first time.
And then for the second time, as Viren grips his shirt and pulls him in again. This time their lips part. This time they taste.
When the kiss ends, Viren sighs happily and leans his forehead against Harrow's. Noses brush cheeks. Eyelashes tickle. Breath mingles.
They might want to do this all afternoon. And maybe in most of their free time for the next month. They might look forward to doing more... eventually...
They might not be right for these parts, after all.
"The writing team might be willing to tweak the script. There are many variations on these myths..." *wink*
Lujanne, who's the college student director, is emphatic that "They have a platonic relationship! A brotherly bond! No one should try out for these roles if there's a chance they have unresolved sexual tension!"
They start running lines together. Nerd Viren keeps interjecting facts about the source material.
"This is just one version of the myth. Sometimes they're lovers."
"And brothers,too?"
"Well, technically, I guess, since they were the only two beings in the universe for aeons. Brothers and enemies and friends and lovers and enemies again and comrades in arms... Gods can be like that. There's no one true version..."
"I can't do this. Ever since you said that thing about how they were lovers I've been thinking about it, and about us playing the roles, but that's wrong because you're like my brother..."
"Whoa, Harrow... I have never once thought of you as a brother."
"...never?"
Viren shakes his head.
"But... after your parents died, when you were living with us... You'd come to my bed when you had nightmares. I'd hug you til you fell asleep. And when I was hurting you'd tell me stories to distract me..."
Viren pats his arm and squeezes gently.
"Yeah. It's not like I've forgotten. I love you, in a way that goes beyond any other friendship I can imagine. But not in a way that prevents me from appreciating how mind-meltingly hot you are lately."
He blushes he says it, and looks at the script lying on the floor between them.
Harrow grins at him, feeling himself flush, feels warmth grow in his chest and spread out through his body. He moves the script and slides across the carpet so they're touching.
"I guess I have caught you staring at me sometimes, but I didn't want to assume... Mind-meltingly hot?"
"Yeah, well, half the school thinks so, too. But I've seen you shirtless, so I win."
"Hmmm... I've seen you shirtless, so I win, too."
Harrow undoes the top three buttons of his shirt. He does it slowly, in an exaggerated pantomime of stripping, thinking he's being ridiculous and Viren will laugh and this will be less intense, but Viren just stares, his expression between "dreamy" and "worshipful." (Maybe he should have added sound effects.)
Intense is alright. It's Harrow's heart hammering in his chest as he leans to meld their lips together for the first time.
And then for the second time, as Viren grips his shirt and pulls him in again. This time their lips part. This time they taste.
When the kiss ends, Viren sighs happily and leans his forehead against Harrow's. Noses brush cheeks. Eyelashes tickle. Breath mingles.
They might want to do this all afternoon. And maybe in most of their free time for the next month. They might look forward to doing more... eventually...
They might not be right for these parts, after all.
"The writing team might be willing to tweak the script. There are many variations on these myths..." *wink*
As a what?
Apr. 23rd, 2020 07:35 pmYears of passion and conflict and loss separate them from two boys, inseperable and bursting with dreams, but Lord Viren thinks that memory could be his best chance.
"I think of you... as... a brother."
King Harrow glowers at him.
"You don't mean that."
Frustrated and desperate, Viren demands, "If I'm offering to die for you, why does it matter exactly how I-"
The rest of his words are lost against Harrow's lips.
"I think of you... as... a brother."
King Harrow glowers at him.
"You don't mean that."
Frustrated and desperate, Viren demands, "If I'm offering to die for you, why does it matter exactly how I-"
The rest of his words are lost against Harrow's lips.
Storm and Shelter
Apr. 10th, 2020 09:39 pm Harrow had never lived without the threat of war. He had been a boy, and a man, and now a father, in a world of recurring alarms and drills. Drills to prepare for attacks from Xadia, or the retaliation prompted by a first-strike attack the Coalition considered justified.
The lockdown, the shelter-in-place order, the potential for disruption of communication and supplies... all these things were familiar. But the cause, in this case, at his new home, at the flagship university on the shoulder of Mt. Kalik, was new to Harrow. As he went through the disaster checklist and the customary process of reassuring Callum, he tried to adjust to the idea that all of this is was caused by storms. It was both more and less terrifying. Lightning and wind, hail, sleet, and snow, lacked malice, but also fear and reason.
And, for the first time, Harrow knew he would be doing this alone. The ongoing state of emergency and Sarai's devotion to her post were turning their trial separation permanent. He refrained from further attempts to beg her to quit and come home, but the fact that this change was faultless and seemingly endorsed by nature didn't make it less sad or Harrow more ready to face it.
Harrow's mother, the university's chancellor, who had invited/begged him to take this job, had no time to help. She was busy looking after her many student charges, and the other staff and their families. There were a hundred logistical fires she needed to put out, and Harrow couldn't resent that, but he could still desperately wish to be someone's first priority.
In the evening, three days in, he had fed Ezran and was snuggling the sleepy toddler and stroking his hair while Callum drew, feeling both peaceful and overwhelmed. When the doorbell rang, Callum sprinted to the door and flung it wide open, letting in a mixture of snow and sleet, and three people, one of whom was familiar. It was Dr. Viren, the man from the daycare parking lot, herding a small boy, carrying a relatively enormous slow cooker, and a tiny girl with a picnic basket.
"We brought you dinner!" The girl yelled. "I made it myself! Dad said the recipe was probably too complicated, but I showed-"
"Hey!" The boy interrupted "I helped a lot! I chopped all the fucking vegetables!"
Viren sighed, frustration and embarrassment showing on his face and in his body language. He took several deep breaths before reproving the children.
"Claudia, it's polite to wait until you're invited in. Soren, it's not polite to use that language." Their excitement fell away as they retreated back to the door.
Viren knelt with practiced ease to ask Callum to get his father, but smacked his cane into the decorative umbrella rack by the door, precipitating a loud, chaotic collapse. Looking back, Harrow would always think of this as an appropriate introduction to a family of bright, awkward, impulsive, generous people who always danced their own singular steps through life.
When Viren caught sight of him he launched into what sounded like a lecture, about how bringing food to neighbors had become a tradition, and he did text first but there wasn't an answer, so they'd avoided most common allergens and followed traditional dietary rules just in case, and the meat for the stew was locally sourced, and the bread was from his uncle's bakery...
Harrow smiled warmly and and thanked him, then proceeded to ignore most of the stream of words as he guided Claudia and Soren into the kitchen and helped Callum set the table.
Dinner went well, and afterward the three older children headed to the playroom / art studio, with Ezran toddling after them. This led to a fair amount of screaming, but no blood, an equal amount of laughter, a creative mess, a plan for a collaborative project, and enraged sobbing when Ezran had to part from Soren, aka the source of banther-rides.
Meanwhile their fathers washed the dishes together and talked. When Harrow tried to apologize for missing the texts, and for the state of the apartment, Viren yelled at him, "Stop being a judgemental prick to my new friend!" and took his phone and scheduled the cleaner for twice a week.
That sort of thing became a pattern. Viren's opinion was that money was for spending, and resources and power more broadly were meant to be used. He had no patience for shame, but also very little consideration for the moral or social implications of most choices.
The lockdown, the shelter-in-place order, the potential for disruption of communication and supplies... all these things were familiar. But the cause, in this case, at his new home, at the flagship university on the shoulder of Mt. Kalik, was new to Harrow. As he went through the disaster checklist and the customary process of reassuring Callum, he tried to adjust to the idea that all of this is was caused by storms. It was both more and less terrifying. Lightning and wind, hail, sleet, and snow, lacked malice, but also fear and reason.
And, for the first time, Harrow knew he would be doing this alone. The ongoing state of emergency and Sarai's devotion to her post were turning their trial separation permanent. He refrained from further attempts to beg her to quit and come home, but the fact that this change was faultless and seemingly endorsed by nature didn't make it less sad or Harrow more ready to face it.
Harrow's mother, the university's chancellor, who had invited/begged him to take this job, had no time to help. She was busy looking after her many student charges, and the other staff and their families. There were a hundred logistical fires she needed to put out, and Harrow couldn't resent that, but he could still desperately wish to be someone's first priority.
In the evening, three days in, he had fed Ezran and was snuggling the sleepy toddler and stroking his hair while Callum drew, feeling both peaceful and overwhelmed. When the doorbell rang, Callum sprinted to the door and flung it wide open, letting in a mixture of snow and sleet, and three people, one of whom was familiar. It was Dr. Viren, the man from the daycare parking lot, herding a small boy, carrying a relatively enormous slow cooker, and a tiny girl with a picnic basket.
"We brought you dinner!" The girl yelled. "I made it myself! Dad said the recipe was probably too complicated, but I showed-"
"Hey!" The boy interrupted "I helped a lot! I chopped all the fucking vegetables!"
Viren sighed, frustration and embarrassment showing on his face and in his body language. He took several deep breaths before reproving the children.
"Claudia, it's polite to wait until you're invited in. Soren, it's not polite to use that language." Their excitement fell away as they retreated back to the door.
Viren knelt with practiced ease to ask Callum to get his father, but smacked his cane into the decorative umbrella rack by the door, precipitating a loud, chaotic collapse. Looking back, Harrow would always think of this as an appropriate introduction to a family of bright, awkward, impulsive, generous people who always danced their own singular steps through life.
When Viren caught sight of him he launched into what sounded like a lecture, about how bringing food to neighbors had become a tradition, and he did text first but there wasn't an answer, so they'd avoided most common allergens and followed traditional dietary rules just in case, and the meat for the stew was locally sourced, and the bread was from his uncle's bakery...
Harrow smiled warmly and and thanked him, then proceeded to ignore most of the stream of words as he guided Claudia and Soren into the kitchen and helped Callum set the table.
Dinner went well, and afterward the three older children headed to the playroom / art studio, with Ezran toddling after them. This led to a fair amount of screaming, but no blood, an equal amount of laughter, a creative mess, a plan for a collaborative project, and enraged sobbing when Ezran had to part from Soren, aka the source of banther-rides.
Meanwhile their fathers washed the dishes together and talked. When Harrow tried to apologize for missing the texts, and for the state of the apartment, Viren yelled at him, "Stop being a judgemental prick to my new friend!" and took his phone and scheduled the cleaner for twice a week.
That sort of thing became a pattern. Viren's opinion was that money was for spending, and resources and power more broadly were meant to be used. He had no patience for shame, but also very little consideration for the moral or social implications of most choices.
Destroy out of love / Build out of anger*
Mar. 22nd, 2020 02:21 pmEverything everywhere ever gives me The Broken Earth feelings, but this whole isolation thing where we are prompted to consider who to invite/allow into our post-apocalypse settlements/compounds/warbands/etc. gives me big Castrima feelings.
Better worlds are possible.
*From the song "No Surrender" by Evan Greer. Whole lotta Taina Asili & Evan Greer & old & forever union songs getting played around here these days...
Better worlds are possible.
*From the song "No Surrender" by Evan Greer. Whole lotta Taina Asili & Evan Greer & old & forever union songs getting played around here these days...
Blah stories & whatnot
Mar. 11th, 2020 08:57 amI have read 1/3 or the stories in Sunspot Jungle V1 & I frequently feel like I need to lie on the floor & have thoughts & feelings about them, so that's a hard recommend on that, friends.
It's also The Summer Prince Feelings Time again.
It's also The Summer Prince Feelings Time again.
Spring Supermoon
Mar. 10th, 2020 09:13 pm in which I blot for the first time In OMG IDK
Hail moon
Hail marsh
Hail seed and sprout
Hail blowing breeze and clouds that ride along
Hail and farewell to the remnants of Before
Hail and welcome to the whispers of To Come
Hail to the struggle of breathing in Today
Hail moon
Hail marsh
Hail seed and sprout
Hail blowing breeze and clouds that ride along
Hail and farewell to the remnants of Before
Hail and welcome to the whispers of To Come
Hail to the struggle of breathing in Today
