bakerstreet | a scar means i survived } scars meme

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a scar means i survived } scars meme

the s c a r s meme

Most everyone has some sort of scar. Some are from happy accidents. Some are from events you'd rather not speak about. Sometimes, people can share a moment over scars: Be it friendly, romantic, or even with a complete stranger. These are those moments.

01. NEW: the scar is fairly new-- maybe you still need to do something to make sure it heals properly. maybe you're just worried about the new scar that's appeared on someone you care about.

02. DISCOVERY: you've just had someone find out about your scars, or you've just accidentally learned that the other person has scars. do you say something, or let the moment pass?

03. SHAME: maybe you're ashamed of your scars. maybe you want someone else to know that there's no need to hide their scars around you.

04. SHOW: you're proud of your scars, or at least you don't see a reason to keep them covered-- never have, or not anymore. or maybe someone is showing you their scars for the first time.

05. STORY: it's time to talk about the story behind your scars. or, perhaps, it's time to listen to someone tell you about how they came about their scars.

06. TOUCH: maybe you want someone to touch your scars so you can remind yourself you're still here. maybe you want to touch their scars because you want to show them you don't mind them.

07. ATTRACTION: you've heard that people like someone with scars, so you're flaunting them, or you're the person very attracted to someone with scars.

08. KISS: letting this person kiss your scars may be a moment of extreme vulnerability, or just something you like. kissing someone else's scars may be just what you need to do to show someone how much you care.

09. SOULMATE: you live in a world where your soulmate's scars appear on your own skin. what's that like?

10. OTHER: wildcard option.

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Post with your character's name and canon, if you're interested in gen/shipping/etc., and maybe a list of some of their scars. Reply to other people's comments by picking RNG for an option, or pick your own!

Warning: May have reference to abuse, torture, violence, self-harm, or similar.

A mash up of several other scar memes.

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Reaching up, Robin hooks both hands around the branch and gives it a little jostle--not enough to tip Ganymede off of it, just enough to sway him around a bit and force him to hold on. He stops, however, at the description of the abduction, and his eyes flick helplessly downward when Ganymede illustrates the point with both hands.

And then biting his lip is no help at all, and he laughs despite himself, loud and bright enough to make that peacock squawk in the distance again.

He slides back down into the water, floating now without even thinking about it because he's too busy grinning up at Ganymede in wicked delight. "I'm so glad he thought carefully about which part he was grabbing," he says, nearly choking over the words before giving up and dissolving into laughter again. After only a few--maybe several--seconds, he wrestles control of himself enough to speak again. "He certainly wouldn't have wanted to do any damage to your lovely, um, assets."

It's just a tease, because Zeus obviously wouldn't have cared to do harm to any part of Ganymede, from head to toe and back again. But the image is just a little too marvelous to ignore.

Squawking and being forced to clutch to the branch, Ganymede huffs before he's allowed to continue and then, of course - he should've expected this - Robin laughs.

It's not as if he doesn't know where he indicated, and it's not as if he hadn't been confused and flustered over it back when it happened. It's also such a long time ago, and yet, with Robin's pealing laughter around him Ganymede's reduced to blushing as if he really is as young as he looks - and he feels it, too, if just for a moment. That's the price to pay for eternal youth at the age he was given it.

"He did start out a little higher, more on my hips," Ganymede argues, but then he snorts and buries his face in his hands because again, that doesn't actually help him at all. Then Robin adds the last and Ganymede can no longer hold out and bursts out laughing as well.

"Uhm--- of course." It's choked out between laughter, and he manages to calm enough for a breath to pause, lowering his hands enough to peer at Robin, eyebrows arched. He switches to English for what he says next. "Ass-ets, indeed."

And then he's shaking with laughter again, breaking off into a yelp as he falls off the branch and into the water with a loud splash, coming up sputtering on water and laughter both.

"I'm so sorry," Robin says, but he's still laughing and the words probably aren't believable even if they are--at least a little bit--true. He didn't really mean to make Ganymede blush, although the fact that he still can is something of a surprise and a guilty pleasure. "It's not as if he could have easily grabbed you anywhere else in that form!" Under the arms, maybe, but that would have been both uncomfortable and undignified, and Zeus is neither one of those.

Well, maybe undignified, now and then, when base instincts or outside plotting get the better of him. He's hardly alone in that. One need only call to mind the memory of Titania embracing an ass to prove that particular point.

Then Ganymede suddenly splashes down, and Robin makes a little sound of alarm. No panic is necessary, of course, but he breathes a bit easier when Ganymede is back on the surface and still laughing. Grinning, he says, "The important thing is that you and your assets emerged unscathed." He knows Zeus' intentions weren't so devious at first. Otherwise, the Cloud-Gatherer would never have waited an entire year to court Ganymede's full affections. Robin still can't help teasing when he gets so marvelous an opening.

At that moment, he realizes he's treading water rather than standing on solid ground. He chooses to return to the pool's edge instead of clutching onto Ganymede like a particularly anxious vine.

"I suppose we might try the photography now, if you're no longer moments from heatstroke," he says, as he pulls himself back up onto that friendly stone. He twists his hair between both hands and wrings the water from it, nose wrinkling at the splatter over his upper thighs.

Coughing a couple times, which is made all the harder by still laughing, Ganymede shakes his head, smile lingering.

"My waist, I suppose, but no, there really isn't any good method for a giant eagle to carry a human, even when they are large enough to pull it off."

Never mind all those paintings that contain even weirder positions and precarious clutching on bare strips of cloth while the rest of him is naked. Ganymede is just going to be glad he was most definitely fully dressed when Zeus came. Sighing in that sort of relief that comes after a good burst of helpless amusement, Ganymede wipes his curls from his face.

"Definitely feel a lot better, and you look like you're done playing nice with water," he says, gentle comment instead of making it teasing, the smile earnest. "So I'm ready."

Still, he swims a couple circles around the pool and dives under one more time before he gets back up on the shore, snagging the towels and offering one to Robin with a silent question in the tip of his head. He doesn't need it, of course, and with Robin present Ganymede doesn't technically need a towel either, but just because magic is available to be used to dry them both, doesn't mean Robin should have to be relied on using it, especially not for both of them.

The least said about most of those paintings, the better. Robin might have considered destroying one in particular, simply to save the world from suffering a glimpse of it, but... Well, the destruction of even very ugly and objectionable things from the past is probably still censorship. Even if he would like to pretend it's for the good of humankind.

"Fully done, I think, nice or otherwise," he says. He doesn't mind waiting for Ganymede to be truly done, of course--Ganymede has always indulged and even encouraged his need for time among the trees, and rewarding that consideration with impatience would be awfully rude--but he does stir up that pleasant breeze to dry them both once Ganymede emerges from the pool. Magical methods prevent Robin's own hair from frizzing quite so visibly, at least. "This way is faster," he says with a grin, and gives the breeze a last little twist to bounce Ganymede's ever-perfect curls.

Robin has the benefit of being able to summon up clothing just as easily as the wind, and he chooses something gauzy in green that layers like skeleton leaves. Bare feet are always best, especially on Olympus, where the grass is velvety and the rocks are smooth, so he doesn't bother with shoes.

He glances up at the canopy and back in the direction of the palace. "Where do you think is best to try this?" He knows nothing about photography except the necessity of good light. Whatever that phrasing might actually mean in terms of practical application, he has no idea at all. The brighter the better, perhaps. "Or did you already have a location in mind?" He's only considered the foreground and wondered whether the camera will even record him in more or less natural form, but Ganymede is the artist, and he's probably put far more thought into the overall process.

"Thank you."

Laughing, and not the least bit displeased to have the need for a towel rendered obsolete, Ganymede drops both back onto the grass and dresses again. The heat and, perhaps, all these discussions about the past has him nostalgic, so all Ganymede belts into place is a kilt that looks as if it could have been newly made, but certainly in style is several thousand years old. Not that those conflict, completely aside from how divinely-made clothing just lasts longer. This particular one is actually rather new, and Ganymede is hardly the only one who wears clothing from even before what's come to be called 'Antiquity'. Quaint term, honestly.

"There's a couple spots in the south garden that should give both indirect light and a nice place to take pictures. And keep us from being bothered."

He doesn't know if that last will matter much. They will be experimenting a little, yes, but when it comes to the other pictures Ganymede really would rather prefer to get to do those without necessarily being stared at. It feels a little like it should be allowed to be private, maybe even more so than taking this bath had been.

"I'll show you. I think you'll like them," Ganymede says with a smile and leads the way back, picking up both his regular camera and the one they'll use to see if it can indeed record magic in motion and use. Crossing the central courtyard and coming out at the back, the garden still stretching out beyond, Ganymede takes them to a shielded spot within a circle of kept-short myrtle bushes. Someone's left a table with two chairs in the middle, but Ganymede moves those to a spot nearer to the edge of the myrtle bushes instead. "It's late enough in the day we could use my garden, too, but the wall around it starts to throw shadow over one of the best spots nearly as soon as the wing the royal apartments are in stop throwing its own shadow over the garden."

He smiles lopsidedly, shrugging. When he's not intending to take pictures, that never matters, but since they are, well. A better spot is needed.

This does feel like something for which Robin wouldn't really appreciate an audience, though he can't say exactly why. He's changed shape plenty of times as entertainment for others, even at court, and looking foolish has never troubled him, so long as he's doing it in pursuit of a good time. Perhaps he's just struck by the strong possibility that this won't work at all, and he would rather share his disappointment with no one but Ganymede, in that case.

If it does work, they can show the photos to whoever they like.

"You know a great deal more about this than I do," Robin admits, following willingly enough and watching while Ganymede arranges things to his liking. He amuses himself by looking over the myrtle bushes for a moment or two. "I've watched the professional photoshoots of the band, but that gets a bit tedious after the first hour or so." All the posing and shifting and adjustment is interesting--and the results always seem far better than the process would suggest--but he doesn't dare participate, and simply observing fails to hold his attention for long. "How do you choose a good composition? Shadows, lighting, scale... It seems like a lot to think about in comparison with a painting."

After all, a painting can be corrected afterwards--more than once if things go very badly. A photo doesn't offer the same flexibility.

He hovers over the cameras, peering at them from one direction and then another, but he doesn't quite dare to touch without invitation. All those tiny dials seem like a temptation that will only lead to disaster.

Blinking, Ganymede laughs, shaking his head while attaching the regular camera to a tripod.

"I can talk about that if you want, but I was mostly going to just make sure we have the sun in the right direction so we both turn up nicely for these photos. Nothing too complicated, unless you'd want them to look more professional?" Glancing up to catch Robin's eyes with that question, Ganymede cocks his head. He's willing to do that, too, however. "Even the ones I put effort into aren't exactly publicity-pieces for a famous band."

He grins, waving Robin over. "Just press this button and it'll take a picture. Hopefully I won't mess anything up when we try the film camera, I can't say I've exactly gotten used to it, just yet.

[whispers I don't know a thing about photography dsvgjfs.]

"Definitely not, no," Robin says, vaguely alarmed. After a moment, he grins. "I wasn't really planning on posing in that particular way." He wasn't planning on posing at all, really--at least not in the staged way a celebrity might. This sort of experimentation seems to lend itself to candid shots. He's not going to make Ganymede describe the process step-by-step, either, especially given that he might not understand a word of it besides maybe lens and picture.

He leans down to squint through the viewfinder but doesn't let his hand drift toward the indicated button. Wasting Ganymede's film on a photo of myrtle bushes, nice as they might be, strikes him as rude. He can wait until one of them is standing in front of the bushes, at least.

Straightening up again, he looks at Ganymede and asks, "What would you like to try first? I imagine you might want a picture or two that's guaranteed not to turn out blurry or otherwise peculiar." He let go of his usual human glamour in the pool, but resuming it now would be simple enough. "So long as you aren't in a hurry, we can do anything you like. And we aren't exactly trying for an Oscar, either, so don't worry too much."

Even if they do screw something up with the cameras or the film, they can always try again at a later date. Hopefully they won't have wasted much more than their time.

[*whispers back* neither do IIIIIII~]

Laughing, Ganymede steps back in when Robin clearly decides to wait to fiddle with the camera and sets up the self timer instead, making sure he's actually concentrating for this. Not because it's hard, really, but rather because he's a little distracted right now, so better be sure it's done right.

"Why don't we start with just one as we are?" he asks, straightening up as he's done. "And then for the next one, you can do as you like and we'll take at least one more."

Ganymede smiles brightly, eyes sparkling, and he can't help but he at least a little excited. Robin, at least, has full control of his transformations, so there's never been any need to worry.

"If you've been thinking of something you'd like to try and get a picture of you looking like that, since we first talked about this."

Seeing what Robin might come up with for this had been half his interest in the idea. The other half, the first and greater half, had of course been to get at least one picture together with Robin at all.

"Oh, I definitely have some ideas," Robin replies, with a distinctly mischievous tilt to his grin. He arranges himself in front of the myrtle bushes and follow Ganymede's directions until he's in the proper place. When Ganymede presses the button and hurries over to beat the timer, he resists the impulse to do something absolutely ridiculous and simply gives his most winning smile, instead, just before the camera clicks. "I suppose we should try a couple more of those, just in case?"

In the end, a couple more are all his good intentions can withstand when up against the promise of trying new and potentially absurd things. It's a bit of a pity that they can't see the results right away, but neither of the cameras are a quick exposure, despite the availability of the technology. Perhaps someday such things will be widespread.

Until then, Robin will have to practice patience. Never a certain success.

"Well," he says, when Ganymede returns to the camera. "Let's try something more impressive." In only a moment, he's twisted in and out again into his favorite stag-shape, all powerful legs and branching, velvet antlers. He looks very much as he did on their first meeting, minus only the wings--he can't quite bear stretching out into those. Not when that shape will never fit quite right again. Better not to dwell, and he stamps his hooves against the garden grass, kicking up a fluttering scatter of tiny moths and shifting his weight while he waits for Ganymede to take the picture.

Better more than too few, though it's probably unnecessary. But it does mean they'll have several to choose from, some slightly different, and they might want different ones. It'll all work out, Ganymede's rather sure.

And honestly, he's impressed Robin holds out for so long, with only the green shimmer to his hair and skin, catching in his eyes, to reveal what he is. That his wings might have been part of this, once, now a long time ago, Ganymede pushes away as soon as the thought crops up. Instead he laughs in as much anticipation as agreement, and that anticipation blooms out into delight as Robin shifts.

"You're impressive either way," he promises with a bright grin, setting up the self timer again and hurrying over, "but this definitely got an edge!"

Laughing but trying to contain himself unless he turn himself blurry in a decidedly non-supernatural way, Ganymede throws his arms around Robin's currently long, arching neck right before the timer goes off. He won't subject him to as many repeats this time, in case Robin has more to try, but two more, just to be safe, seems a good compromise.

Robin's compromise involves only once giving a long-tongued lick to the entire side of Ganymede's head. Under the circumstances, that seems like rather a lot of restraint, especially given that he times it--hopefully--right when the timer clicks. There's something pleasant about being so large and relatively powerful, when he and Ganymede are usually of a size. The shape rouses a kind of protectiveness, prey species or not. He tries not to let it go to his head.

After a couple more pictures and a bit of leaping about to dispel the energy this form always inspires, Robin shifts back to something bipedal again. He chooses what was once his most recognizable shape--far more green, sharp at all the edges, still antlered in a more subtle way. It's the closest he can manage to the shape he chose when first he appeared in front of Zeus--when Ganymede encouraged him to be true to his nature, rather than choosing something that would best appeal to Olympian aesthetics.

"Hopefully this still looks familiar," he says with a grin, when Ganymede straightens up from adjusting the camera controls.

He looks--and feels--so much a part of the forest in this shape, and what covers him is less clothing than simply living greenery, branching and budding with leaves. When he holds out a hand to Ganymede and takes a step forward, he leaves tiny stars of clematis unfurling from under his feet.

Ganymede's glare - right after his startled face was surely caught by the camera thanks to Robin's calculated timing - can't hold, after. Shoving the sturdy shoulder under laughter makes it clear what he thinks of that sort of shenanigans, and well. It definitely was a lot of restraint, honestly. Ganymede can hardly complain too much.

Looking up, as much because he's finished with the camera once again, as for Robin's comment, Ganymede pauses. Stares, completely taken for a moment. Doesn't need long to know where and how he saw that shape last, and smiles, slow and wide and utterly delighted.

"It does," he promises, voice as warm as his smile as he takes the offered hand. Pauses right as he reaches for the trigger to set off the self timer, glancing to Robin again, looking him up and down. Hesitates for a beat, for he's not sure if this will hurt as much as him pointing out the scars had. "Any reason you don't use this so very often?"

Sure, they have most often met in cities after they reconnected, but not always, and certainly not only. Just because they start there doesn't mean they haven't ended up somewhere private enough Robin couldn't, technically, take whatever shape he might wish or feel like to do.

Edited 2021-11-07 14:32 (UTC)

Taken off guard, Robin takes a moment to consider the question. "I'm not entirely sure," he says at length. "Fashions change, I suppose, especially at court. Wouldn't do for everyone to think me old-fashioned or...sentimental." The quirk of his lips is wry. While the answer might be mostly the truth, it's a bit of a sidestep as well, but he's fairly sure that Ganymede can imagine what--and who--he doesn't want to appear sentimental for.

There are shapes that particularly please Oberon; this was one of them. Whether it would please him still, Robin has no idea, and he doesn't care to test the possibility. Sometimes he contorts himself into uncomfortable things, when he wants to please. Sometimes the discomfort is worthwhile depending on the result.

Oddly enough, now that he's in it, he doesn't find this shape particularly objectionable after all. It still feels like a part of him at the heart, rather than something he created to please anyone else. His smile widens into a grin. "They say every fashion comes back around eventually. Maybe I'll give this one a try, see if I can set some sort of...retro trend." Reminding the high fey of their roots--literally, in this case--seems like an entertaining endeavor no matter the reason.

Besides, the does love the antlers. That seems like reason enough. So does Ganymede's effortless and earnest smile, and Robin loops one arm around his waist, tugging him close and jostling their hips together.

Ganymede smiles wryly in answer, nodding even as he stays quiet in the moment. He can definitely imagine who it is Robin might not wish to appear too nostalgic about a 'better' past in front of. If only, perhaps, because Oberon would undoubtedly be terribly smug about it.

"It's definitely a truth that has been proven, through the years," Ganymede agrees with wry amusement, thinking of various fashion trends, perhaps more so more recently. But, on top of that, he's honestly pleased, too, to maybe get to see this shape more. It's a little like whenever Siomeis or Xanthos choose to turn to their, if not more primal, then less humanoid shapes, the long, sinuous snake-like fish tails on top of their horns and bovine ears.

Laughing, he bumps his hip to Robin's in response. Arching his brows, he reaches for the self-timer.

"Better be ready to move."

It's not far from here to the spot they've used so far to stand in front of the camera, but Robin's clearly feeling playful - a feeling that seems to have settled deeper as he's cycled through shapes - so a warning, no matter what Robin does with it, seems in its place.

Robin's eyes glitter and his grin widens in true delight. Something about his face in this form--perhaps the slender, sharper features--gives the expression a vaguely devilish air. He tenses, ready for a dash. When Ganymede clicks the timer, Robin grabs him by the hand and they sprint together for the proper spot, succeeding mostly in tripping over a heretofore-unnoticed stone and staggering to an ungainly halt.

The resulting photograph will maybe not be a keeper.

"We should maybe try that again," Robin concedes, once they've more or less recovered their breath along with their dignity. "We might have trouble deciding whether the blurriness is due to magic or due to us, otherwise."

They take a few more. One additional little indulgence, when Robin shifts into his favorite cat-shape and drapes himself like lazy ink over Ganymede's shoulders for a couple of shots, but then he's more than ready to try the film camera for a different sort of experimentation. This model has even more tempting dials than the first one, and he watches Ganymede set it up with no little fascination.

He gives a little shake of his head. "Imagine having this at any earlier point in history," he says with a sigh. Ganymede probably already has imagined it, at length, as much as Robin has. The thought is just as bittersweet as their previous conversation about family and friends lost forever to time.

It probably won't be, and Ganymede doesn't help by laughing, bent into Robin's shoulder as he is. So, a few more it is, Ganymede nodding with something like sobriety and glad Robin is being as patient and indulgent about this as he is. Yes, they'll both appreciate the end result after he's gotten the photos developed and they can choose which they like best between them and probably get a couple each for each set of shapes Robin has chosen, but still.

It feels a little like it's mostly for Ganymede's sake, and he's very grateful for it.

"If only," Ganymede agrees, his voice soft with contemplation instead of, as in the cafe, with aching longing for things lost and gone. "Could've had little film snippets of circus games, or people working the fields, any number of mundane things..."

He looks up, a flash of bright amusement cleaving his face, eyes sparking. "Could you imagine the salivating historians would make, if they could have movies like that, even short clips? Of famous battles or pivotal political discussions and events, but also the private moments of people being people."

It really isn't for Ganymede's sake, mostly or otherwise, because it's all in the service of satisfying Robin's curiosity--the highest possible calling, of course. Without Ganymede's good influence, he also wouldn't have the slightest chance of combining the proper equipment with the necessary span of attention, so he owes Ganymede for that, too.

"They would go absolutely rabid for it, wouldn't they?" he says with a grin. "The influential points are one thing, but those are already so likely to end up in records or artwork or what have you. The little bits of everyday life are so much more rare in the historical record. They're always kind of magical, as a result." The graffiti carved at Pompeii, the cuneiform tablets to Ea-nasir, the cave paintings at Lascaux--all of them preserved by chance rather than design, and all of them so terribly precious for the insights they give.

Robin supposes there are more treasures like that, out in the wide world. Hopefully they'll be found before human carelessness or increasing development destroys them.

Biting into his lower lip for a moment, he can't suppress a chuckle. "Imagine what the world would be like in another century or so, if everyone took as many photos of themselves as we have today." That would be...billions and billions of photos, mostly of extremely questionable quality, and he chuckles again at the absurdity of the idea.

Most certainly that would be the highest possible calling, of course.

"They would," Ganymede says, laughing now. Feeling a much more lighter yearning for the technology in his hands to have existed early enough today's historians really could have found a recording here and there. It would have been utterly beautiful, and hilarious, to see. "All the ways people cooked food, what went into a dish or another, or just a woman weaving..."

He shakes his head. It hasn't escaped him that while there's so much more variety of cloth, now, and it can be made fine, certainly, somewhere, a skill has still been lost. Not that Ganymede much notices, given that Athena and the nymphs assisting her are still making clothes, or at least the fabric for them, but he has always bought mortal-made clothes as well, and it's only easier to do so now. It's hard not to notice the changes, for all that the abundance of clothing now available is staggering.

"So many little moments saved," he says brightly, but nods too, imagining that would be quite a number that would have to be stored, somewhere, somehow. "Those photos we took turning out well or not - though I certainly hope they will - I'm ready to test if we can get your changing catching in a recording."

He nods down to the video camera in his hand, raising it up along with his eyebrows in expectation.

Robin has the benefit of creating the vast majority of his clothing out of magic, but when he does condescend to wrap himself up in human-made articles, he too has noticed a certain difference in quality. The question seems to be less in the fabrics themselves and more in the sewing and the details, but he can acknowledge that he might just be nostalgic for a time when everything was crafted by literal hand. Industrialization has improved the quality of life for so many people, however, that complaining seems churlish.

"I'm hoping that everything will turn out," Robin says, honestly, though he tries not to give over entirely to optimism in case none of them are salvageable. His human glamour, at least, definitely shows up in photographs. He's allowed himself to appear in just enough of those to be sure. "But I'm definitely ready to move on ahead."

He grins. The result of this will either be fascinating or frustrating. Either way, just trying it is exciting enough.

"Err." He pauses, glancing at the camera for a moment, then back at Ganymede. "I really have no reason at all to think this would actually damage the equipment," he says, a little reluctantly, "but if that happens--and it can't be fixed--I promise I'll replace it." Hopefully Ganymede knows that he would, but offering outright makes it a true bargain in the sense of his own kind. He won't renege.

Ganymede nods, can't help the little smile pulling at the corners of his lips. He hopes too, and anyway, doesn't see any reason why it won't work. Surely more magic loose in the air, while Robin was otherwise standing still, shouldn't mess anything up.

But well. They'll have to wait and see. He'd almost been tempted to pick up a polaroid camera while he bought the video one, but he likes his current, regular camera and wanted to use it for this, too.

"If it happens," Ganymede says with a small smile even as he takes a couple extra steps back, since it won't matter - he can zoom in if necessary - as much now, "I'm pretty sure Hephaestus will be able to repair it, easily. He might even be eager to! I figure magic-damaged technology would be interesting to get his hands on, no matter what type of magic it is."

Laughing softly at the idea, he shakes his head. "But if it really can't be repaired, we can go look at a new one."

He could, after all, hear what Robin was saying, and so he won't insult the bargain he's being given when Robin is offering it.

"That does reassure me," Robin admits. The idea of anyone--and especially Hephaestus, really--looking down on a mess he'd made with delight is enough to restore his grin. "I ought to find something broken for which I am not responsible and bring it to you, just to pass along to him."

He can think of several sources more or less immediately. Goblins are particularly prone to snatching and then destroying human possessions. Sometimes purposefully, out of mischief or even malice, but just as often accidentally. Pixies tend to grab domestic items as well, but their diminutive size restricts them from carrying off anything very interesting. They're more likely to incorporate buttons and bobbins and bits of jewelry in their clothing and their dwellings than they are to use objects for their original purposes.

They are particularly fond of single socks. Robin isn't entirely certain why. Surely a pair would be more useful.

"All right," he says, and finds himself actually rubbing his hands together in anticipatory glee. He stops that in favor of positioning himself in what--he hopes, anyway--is the best framing to show his entire body. "I'm going to go with wolf, first, since it's...relatively similar in size." Not as tall as a human, of course, but few quadrupeds are, so it will have to do. He could go with stag again, but they already have plenty of photos of that and he hates to repeat himself.

He shifts like he usually does, as a flow of swift shadows, and only once he's standing on four broad paws does he think of slowing the process down for filming. Oh well, they'll try again and probably again. One of his ears twitches and he sits to scratch at it with a back foot.

"If you do, you will certainly have earned his gratitude," Ganymede promises warmly. Magic wasn't the same as divine power, and that meant differences to how it interacted with the world around it, and with human things and technology - divine powers slid in and around and fitted itself to things, matching it to be able to replace or control something. Hephaestus wouldn't ask for something broken with magic of some sort, but he would be very interested, Ganymede knew.

Partially because he'd had to explain what he and Robin wanted to do, because he'd himself thought beforehand that the photos, but especially the film they would hopefully have at the end of this, might require a bit more of divine attention than Ganymede usually needed while developing his photos. Hephaestus had been nothing but interested in providing assistance, if it should be needed.

That was for later. Ganymede made sure he had Robin fully framed as he started the recording, and at least as he watched he saw nothing odd, but that was no guarantee the film itself would be untouched. He did think there might have been a vague blurring, somewhere in the middle, but since Robin changed so quickly, it was harder to tell.

The result, too, distracts Ganymede a little and the has to swallow a noise and keep himself in place. He can't treat Robin like a pet just because he looks so very fluffy right now, but him sitting down to scratch behind an ear doesn't help. Ganymede tells himself very sternly he has a dog he can pet whenever he wants, since Zeus had gifted him the golden hound that had been guarding his birthplace when the gods withdrew after the war. The urge to go over and pet Robin is still terribly strong, right now. Even more so than it'd been for the stag form, but he'd managed to channel that over into simply hugging Robin's neck, then.

"You look very fine," Ganymede chooses to say, because it's true, then purses his lips in thought, "but maybe try slower, for the next one? Not sure whether that will have an effect or not, but we should try, either way."

Compliments are always appreciated, and Robin straightens up as his face transforms with an unhelpfully doggy sort of grin. He's definitely not a pet, in this shape or any other, but he would never turn down pettings from Ganymede, especially when some places are so challenging to reach with relatively inflexible joints. Also, there's just something about being so delightfully furry that makes long scratching sessions particularly appealing.

The impulse is even worse when he transforms into cat, but then he's required to balance it with intrinsic feline aloofness and dignity. Self-respecting cats do not roll over and beg for belly rubs.

In any case, Ganymede's suggestion echoes his own concern. He doesn't make more than a little whine of agreement, given the shape, but he hops up to all fours again in preparation. He has practice changing form in several flashy or purposefully aesthetic ways--every aspect of a performance counts, after all--but doing it efficiently and still slowly takes a few moments of concentration. He likes to think he accomplishes it with style. It's the same spiraling shift of shadows, winding tight and then unraveling until he's standing in human shape again.

"Careful, this could be addictive for me," he admits with a grin. "I have dozens of ways to move from one shape to another." That's not even an exaggeration; it might be a real understatement. "Please remind me to choose only the most interesting ones or we might be here until dark."

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this is just an excuse to use wolf icons