#excathedras

Salty Ask List 

1. What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?

Just to list them: Shaytham (like...aesthetically I get it. But otherwise, womp womp. Unless it was like a hit it and quit it deal?). Jacob/Starrick (Again, aesthetically okay. Otherwise I am confused LOL). This just means that I don’t get them, not to be confused with not shipping them (although I don’t ship Jacob and Starrick!).

4. Do you have a NoTP in your fandom? Are they a popular OTP?

ConWash. Nope. Hate it. Don’t love it. Not here for it.

Shay/femme!Arno. Like why? Just ship Shay/Arno, in all their masculine glory!!!

Fryecest. Not here for it.

Roth/Jacob. N O P E. Not here for it. I think this one is more popular.

14. Unpopular opinion about your fandom?

frankenstein hadn’t wanted to come to this party at all, really. it had been a coursemate who had insisted upon it — she was not a coursemate that victor even knew particularly well, but he had made the mistake of letting himself get drawn into a conversation with her after class, and when he’d mentioned, quite offhand, that he had never been to a proper american college party, she had adamantly refused to let him pass up the experience. 

most of the night had been a hazy blur. he’d scarcely crossed the threshold before the too-jovial host had appeared out of nowhere to shove a drink into his hand, and as the night progressed, no one had let his cup stay empty for long. so, two hours later, frankenstein, slightly dizzy and more than a little drunk, found himself halfway in the lap of a pretty red-haired boy who had introduced himself somewhere along the line as francis. 

   THERE IS A PLACE where the labyrinth drops away sheer and sudden into the sea. It is where Icarus would come to revel in the light, the same place from which he and Daedalus would eventually leap, carried on sea winds and wings which would only sustain him for so long. That day had been clear and bright where as now a storm is waiting, the sun not yet daring to peak its crown above the horizon though the world is beginning to turn a lighter shade of gray. The sound of their breathing and the wind rustling their feathers can barely be heard beneath the crash of the waves, the fog which rolls in great clouds of its own nearly indistinguishable from the spray which rises from the impact of wave against labyrinthine stone or the masses of storm clouds overhead.

    MUSH AS ICARUS HIMSELF leans towards crumbling whenever he comes here the only thing holding together this section of the immense structure is his will. Centuries of wear against fairly mortal stone should have lead it to crumble away but he will not allow it. Even as other sections of the labyrinth cave in on themselves or crumble into the sea, this precipice stands, a monument to his mortality and the things which would lead to his ultimate fate.

     A DEEP BREATH OF SALT AIR fills his lungs for comfort rather than necessity and he shifts so that his bicep presses into Hypnos’s shoulder, an admission of longing, of how he would not be standing here without the other god ( though all of this may not be conveyed through one small connection ). Icarus’s hubris, his very mortal brashness and anger and impulsivity, and by contrast Hypnos’s reservation, often leads to a rift between them, or at the very least an imbalance in their relationship. Here, though, the playing field is leveled. There is no conflict, only honesty and raw emotion.

   THE NORMALLY GENTLE ARC of hand above head and over side is interrupted by the tight pull of just-healing sutures, halting him in a wince which makes itself known as his half-removed shirt falls back to cover he toned expanse of his abdomen. Arrowhead had parted skin just below the last of his ribs, buried firmly in muscle though lucky in missing any of his best approximations of vital human organs. Secrecy in his vulnerability was vital and even Hypnos would not have known had he not been caught near the verge of unconsciousness due to the strain on his mortal form. There he had tended his wounds the painfully human way with gentle hands and the sting of needle through skin. Icarus had complained and Hypnos had countered with the point that not to reveal themselves as gods was crucial and a mouth which was hard to argue against.

    HYPNOS’S VOICE comes unexpected in the quiet of their room and Icarus pauses, quiet and unusually still. His fingers twitch at his sides, antsy and frustrated at his own inability to perform basic function. He could hardly dress himself the morning prior but then at least he had managed to avoid the prying gaze of his lover, the cloying gentleness which was unavoidable and infuriating. Aside from the incessant itching of the healing wound it made him want to shed his skin.

    HERE, THOUGH, HE RELENTS. A sigh parts his lips and allows his shoulders to slouch, exhaustion slipping into his posture in a way it usually did not. The backs of his thighs his their bed as he allowed himself to sit, arms extending towards Hypnos in a motion of surrender and acceptance. A silent please with palms upturned, their eyes nearly level for once ( Icarus, of course, retained the advantage ).

she   stands ,   even   though   she   does   not   need   to .   mortal ,   yes ,   but  it   is   others   who  stand   when   she   enters   a   room ;  fall   to   their   knees   to   hear   her   prayer .     ❛     what   news   do   you   bring   me ,   my   love ?   are   the   gods   rejoicing ?      ❜  

11/10 would like to be bitten by ur teef

   IT’S A CURIOUS QUESTION. There is often little empathy to be found from other gods, if they chose to acknowledge the divine bastard at all. In turn, this raises the question of intent. Was there some greater scheme at play to bring Mercury to him, unprompted and with kindness ? Though he tends to be a being of folly, there is an analytical sort of concern that creeps in here, reminiscent of his father’s paranoia.