#and it's supposed to be a very beautiful building so i'm curious ^^

[across-stars]

going to see the phantom menace tonight...

...very excited, I've never actually seen any of the prequel movies in cinema lol

[vilhelios]

— IF YOU'RE THE SACRED SCRIPT, I AM THE HIEROPHANT.

( if you're the holy church, i'm gonna worship . ) ; the old, dusty tomes that amund gives you state that the lemurian gods are perfect, flawless beings. not a single scar or freckle adorns their skin, no emotion creases their hallowed faces.

cw: fluff !!! ; established relationship ! ; abysswalker!rafayel <3 + brief mentions of god of the sea rafayel; slight spoilers for rafayel's sea of golden sand and forgotten sea (?) myths + siren's song anecdote; i am the self-proclaimed ceo of lemuria world building (lemuria lore headcanons!) 💪 ; not beta-read !!!

" THE GODS ART PERFECT BEINGS — FLAWLESS IN FORM AND IN ESSENCE ; THEIR SKIN IS UNMARRED, NAY SCAR OR FRECKLE ADORNS THOSE DIVINE. NAY LINE OF EMOTION MARKS THEIR HALLOWED, PRISTINE VISAGE. "

"RAFAYEL?" you ask, your voice so loud in the quiet dark of night. a hum, a shift in the arms that hold you. "i heard that the gods are perfect."

“they are supposed to be, yes.” rafayel murmurs, hands gently carding through the strands of your hair. the desert is quiet tonight, not a single howl of wind, or a curious fennec fox or gerbil, race across the expanse of sand. the only sounds in your ears are the mingled breaths and synchronised heartbeats of you and your dear abysswalker, tangled beneath the sheets in your shared tent.

his blue-pink eyes stare, searching your gaze. the dark circles beneath them are prominent in the shadows cast by the silvery moonlight. you watch as he takes in a deep breath, and then exhales: "... what books did amund give you today, my love?"

"you know very well that all amund gives me are books and scrolls about lemuria," you huff, thinking of the stack of dusty old books the old man had shoved into your hands at noon, "which would not bother me, if he did not sneer so condescendingly while he gave them to me."

"alright, alright." he sighs, there will be things to discuss with amund in the morning, if the slight exasperation in his tone is anything to go off of. and then, he asks, voice gentle: "what did you learn about the gods, my heart?"

" OUR GOD OF THE TIDES HATH BEEN TAINTED. HIS SKIN HATH BECOMETH SPECKLED. HIS HEART HATH BEEN SURRENDERED. NAY LONGER PERFECT IS HE, WHO IS'T HATH, IN LOVESICK FOLLY, GIVEN BOTH LIFE & DOMAIN. "

"they say you are no longer perfect." you murmur, brushing your lips against his jawline, "using their definition, perhaps they are right. you have scars, and little beauty marks."

"the scars are inevitable. you should know it yourself, my heart." he sighs, solemn, "but they dissolve with us during each seamoon ceremony — i am not reborn with the scars of my past."

"and the beauty marks?"

he hesitates, a bit. there's a far-away look in his eyes that you've grown used to seeing. "they persist and accumulate." rafayel states eventually, as if it's fact, "new ones appear, but i never lose them."

"you never lose them?" you echo, and he nods.

leaning into him, you inspect his face as best as you can in the moonlight. your lips graze his cheek, right above where one lies below his eye. another lies at the tip of his nose, and you repeat the action, rafayel's breath hitching beneath your touch. another sits at the bridge of his nose, and you feel his eyelashes flutter against your skin as you continue.

"there is something about them, in the books." you start, a hand coming up to cup his cheek. rafayel leans into the warmth of your touch (after all, you think, grimly, a stray dog will take all the food it is offered, afraid to go hungry again), and you continue with a smile against his skin, "they say that they represent where your lover loved to kiss you, in your past lives."

rafayel hums, holds you ever closer in his arms, considers the thought. when he falls silent, you know he is aeons away; somewhere below the waves, somewhere thirty thousand years away—you patiently wait for his return, like the shore that welcomes a weary sailor home. a gentle kiss is pressed to right above where his heart should be, and another in the middle of his collarbone. it's instinct, second nature, as natural as the way waves lap at the shoreline and leave seafoam in their wake.

"perhaps there is some truth in that." he finally says, returned to your side from his reverie. he presses a kiss to your temple, a gentle smile against your skin, "after all, it seems you still do as you used to, even now. determined to uphold tradition, are you?"

( & aeons ago, beneath the waves, lies the first mark; the first bearer of sin in eden. a young god of the sea laughs, a rumble in his chest, as his beloved kisses right above where his heart should be. every touch is reverent, like tending to an altar. it is no wonder, then, that he entrusted his heart to such a devout worshipper — after all, it will be in loving hands. )

a/n : hi hi hi i think lnd needs to CALM DOWN with all the rafayel banners or i'm gonna intervene. quite rushed and not as deep symbolism woooo as the last one because i was in a haze.... abysswalker my beloved is as odd to write as usual but i think it's not too ooc... also this is just a little manifesting/tribute thing for my god of the sea rafa myth pulls today i want him to come home !!! i'm so so excited for the myth story !!!! good luck to anyone pulling! may the god of the sea give us his heart without us needing to open our wallets 🫧💕 if you sent in a request recently for the follower event, thank you! it'll still be a bit until i can answer them, but it shall be done !!! <3 will be crossposted to my ao3 if you prefer the fic being in actual capitalisation and in normal text!

update: i had to drag him home with 130 pulls ,,,, i also spedran the myth,,, guh buh,,, whadahell,,, someone please talk to me about them,,,,

[gugugyuu]

secret boyfriend - beomgyu x reader

warnings: very suggestive content, insecurity or self-doubt, etc.

it seems like the air between you and beomgyu became cold these days.

you felt it everytime he responded, every glances no longer hit like it used to. his voice that is once warm and teasing had grown cold too, each word is like a wall building between you.

it wasn't supposed to be like this. your relationship has always been your quiet source of joy. and now? it felt like a fragile secret you couldn't protect no longer, thus suffocating both of you.

you stole a glance at him during class. he sat at his desk wearing an unreadable expression, totally focused on the notes in front of him.

whenever you sent him text messages, he would barely acknowledged it. answering your questions with an icy,

"yeah."

"i don't know."

"i guess."

and it hurts more than you wanted to admit.

even though the classroom was filled with energy during the break, you just couldn't join in.

groups of boys and girls hanged out near his desk and their laughter bursting out. beomgyu leaned back, pretending to listen. he barely even said a word yet his presence alone was enough to keep their attention.

you also sat at your desk, pretending not to notice the way your chest tightened at the sight, wishing you're also near him

beomgyu's everything you thought you aren't; beautiful, confident, admired, unattainable.

and he was yours.

or at least, he had been 'cause now it felt like he was slipping away and you don't know how to stop it.

"hey..."

the sound of his voice startled you. he was standing by your desk, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "can we talk?"

his tone was calm, making you very nervous.

you hesitated, glancing around the room. the noise had dulled slightly and curious eyes started looking towards you. "uuh… now?" you asked him.

"yes. now..." he replied firmly. beomgyu didn’t wait for you. he immediately turned around and headed towards the hallway. you also hurried to follow him, the stares of your classmates burning into your back.

the hallway was empty, the noise of the classroom faded as the door shut behind you. beomgyu stood with his arms crossed, staring at the ground before finally looking up.

"what is it, beomgyu?" you asked cautiously.

"what is it?" he repeated, his laugh cold and humorless. "you seriously don't know?"

you opened your mouth to respond but the words were stuck in your throat.

"i'm tired." he said, cutting through your silence. "i'm tired of pretending. tired of feeling like i'm the only one who cares about this relationship."

"that's not true." you said quickly, panic rising.

"oh, then why?" his voice wasn't loud but the weight of his frustration was enough to make you sad. "you act like i don't exist whenever we're around other people. you can't even admit we're together. do you know how that feels?"

"beomgyu, i-"

"yeah, tell me." he interrupted, his voice breaking slightly. "what are you so afraid of? why do you keep pushing me away like this?"

the lump in your throat swelled and your vision blurred as tears threatened to spill. "i'm not pushing you away." you whispered.

"then what are you doing?" he questioned, his looks softening despite the frustration in his voice.

you hesitated, heart pounding. "i just… i don't want people to hate me."

his brows furrowed, his frustration giving way to confusion. "hate you? or what?"

"for being with you." you admitted, sobbing. "everyone likes you, beomgyu. girls... they all have a crush on you. if they knew we were together, they'd… they'd hate me. they'd think i don't deserve you."

the honesty of your words hung in the air and for a moment, beomgyu just stared at you. his expression changed from disbelief to hurt.

"babe come on, that's what you really think?" he asked quietly.

you nodded, unable to meet his eyes. "i see the way they look at you, the way they talk about you. and i… i don't even know how i got this lucky. i'm scared, beomgyu. i'm scared they'll hate me and that you'll realize they're right."

he took a step closer, reaching for your hands.

"babe..." he said softly, his voice was steady but filled with emotion. "i don't care what they think, i don’t care if they don't like it. i care about you. you're the one i chose because you're the only one i want. isn't that enough?"

tears spilled over and you bit your lip, trying so hard to stop it from trembling. "it should be..." you whispered, sobbing. "but i'm just so scared."

"me too." he admitted, squeezing then kissed your hands. "you mean everything to me. can we face it together?"

you looked up at him after a while, then slowly, you nodded. "okay..." you whispered. "together."

a small relieved smile formed in his lips. "yes, together." he echoed, pulling you into his arms.

and without warning, you leaned forward, kissing him with a sudden boldness that caught even yourself off guard. beomgyu froze for a fraction of a second, he was startled but quickly melted into the kiss. his hands started finding their place on your waist as if they belonged there.

when you finally pulled away, he was breathless and wide-eyed. the faint, unmistakable sound of your lips parting, echoed softly between the two of you. beomgyu's eyes were locked on yours, his chest was rising and falling as he tried to steady himself.

he leaned his forehead against yours, lips curling into a dazed grin. "that sound..." he whispered, fingers traced your flustered face. "the sound of your lips leaving mine… i swear, i could get addicted to it."

you blushed and tried to look away but his fingers gently tilted your chin back to face him. his eyes held yours, captivated.

then you felt your heart ache.

beomgyu's used to people getting shy around him but whenever he watches you melt in front of him? it hits different.

"you know, you're full of surprises." he said, a breathless chuckle escaping his mouth as he leaned in to give a kiss one more time.

come on, why would you keep beomgyu as your little secret?

go to: title || masterlist

[andiv3r]

I'm curious, what is it about stancest that you like?

Ohhg okay, so there's A Lot. Click at your own risk, thoughts on the ship and many reasons I "like" it (find it useful as a narrative tool & fun to play with) under the cut.

I think the main appeal is that there is a formerly strained bond being repaired, and watching them grow close again in their old age is beautiful no matter how you view their relationship¹. I like to explore concepts with stancest that I can't explore with other ships², such as Bill's control and manipulation affecting what could have otherwise been a nice reunion, shared unrevealed feelings being why they both pushed one another away more than necessary in the time right before the portal incident ("for his own good," they both think), or just-through-the-portal Ford meeting a version of mullet Stan while in another dimension (also works for Portaled Stanley AUs meeting another version of Stanford), realising just how bad Stan had it, and (believing there is very little chance of him ever finding his way back home), deciding to take care of this version of his brother where he didn't for the one he knew.

If you're thinking, "Hey... some of those work just fine without making it stancest. You could keep their relationship platonic/familial and still use those concepts," then you're right! I could! Sometimes I even do! But...

I have no reason to restrict the sort of thing I write when the potential for a different dynamic between these characters, as well as being able to explore facets of my own identity through them, appeals to me³. I enjoy looking at the concept of an aromantic alloalterous demisexual and autosexual Ford and playing through how those identities would impact how he sees Stan⁴.

I am also fond of speculating about their time at sea, and what the healing of their relationship would entail. Stan's memory loss (which I think still affects him somewhat, in the form of gaps where certain memories haven't fully reformed or are hazy) would undoubtedly affect things, as would Ford's guilt for "causing" it. There's potential for Stan recovering traumatising memories and Ford both helping him work through that and learning about some of them for the first time - having to learn in the worst possible way that Stan has been through infinitely more than he thought. There is an extremely compelling dynamic here regardless of the nature of their relationship, but I'm a sucker for old queers and lifelong mutual pining that's finally come to a resolution, so putting that era of their life through a stancest filter was inevitable and brings me the most joy.

So, yeah. I dunno, there's just a lot you can do with it and a lot that's already there to build from.

¹Purely familial? Hell yeah, there's lots to work with there and that used to be my favourite way to see them! Romantic? Adds an extra layer to all the ways you could interpret their actions (and therefore all the ways you could add angst), love it lots. Secret third thing? I Am Gnawing At The Bars Of My Enclosure, You Have No Idea How Much I Love Viewing Them As Secret Third Thing. Secret Third Thing can mean so much, there is so much to work with there. It can mean "I love you more than anyone else but it's not romantic but I still feel guilty over how deeply I love you because I'm not supposed to feel like this, you're my brother." It can mean "Whenever I envisioned 'settling down' and 'starting a family' I couldn't make myself see a romantic partner... I could only ever see us out at sea." It can mean "You are my other half. I don't know what we are but I know that you complete me." It can mean so, so much.

²Fiddauthor or portalcule would suffice in some cases, but not all of them... and to be honest, I don't want to settle for something that would just suffice. If it would hit harder emotionally as stancest than it would as fiddauthor, then I'm making it a stancest and not fiddauthor.

³I like to explore ideas of gender/sexuality/romantic orientations as a way to work through how I view my own aromanticism. Stanford is a heavily aromantic-coded character, and Stanley can be viewed through an aromantic lens (which is a headcanon for him that I hold dear).

⁴How would his being autosexual affect the physical aspect of his attraction? How would being demisexual impact him, what with Stan being the person he's closest to and knows best out of anyone in the world? How would his lack of romantic attraction impact that relationship? Would it make him feel more or less guilty for his feelings? Would he even notice they weren't romantic, or would he assume romantic, sexual and alterous attraction were all the same? Would his guilt from his feelings (because god knows he'd have that guilt) stem from some place of societally ingrained morals, or would he, as he so often in canon does, shun society's ideas for how he should act... and in that case only feel guilty for having what he assumes is unwanted and unreciprocated attraction toward someone who would be disgusted at him for it? Or would he maybe ignore the guilt, his attention centred on the fact that this attraction, or these feelings, or this attachment, makes him an anomaly, a freak, just like he was always told he was for his physical differences?

[slutifer]

Hello! I was wondering if you could make Some hc's about the brothers (and if you could add my bb boy Solomon haha) about the promt (I hope is like that, english is my second language sorry) of the "first date"

Like, how would they act, where would it be, you know, the basics, and if it could be gn? Thank you very much and hope you have a great day/afternoon/night <3

First Date

pairing: Lucifer x gn!mc content: fluffyyyyy wc: 616 a/n: I KNOW these were supposed to be hcs but it kinda got away from me a lil bit so i split them up into different parts, i'm sorry pls enjoy lucifer (you are here) / mammon / levi / satan / asmo / beel / belphi / solomon

The avatar of pride is not very expressive. 

You never thought he’d look at you like this, crimson eyes shimmering against the light of a flickering candle. The dim lights of Ristorante Six softened his usually sharp features but did nothing to hide the flush on his face while he kissed the inside of your wrist tenderly between sips of his demonus. The table he had reserved just for you was hidden from curious eyes and questions of who tore the mighty first-born away from his duties. 

The answer was, of course, the only person that could. You. 

He had called you to his office a few days earlier, nothing out of the ordinary for Lucifer. His lean frame sat at the edge of his desk, his eyes meeting yours as you entered with a soft knock on the door.

“Lucifer, you wanted to see me?” Your heart jumped in your ribcage when a small smile spread across his lips.

“Yes, please have a seat.” His tone was softer than usual, but it’s you, how could he not be soft with you? 

You obliged, shutting the door and sitting in the chair in front of him. He took a moment to take you in. The way your eyes roamed around his office before settling on him, your fingers fidgeting lightly over the blazer of your uniform, your delicate smile. 

“Am I in trouble?” Your eyes widen slightly, your smile dropping.

“What? I-” Lucifer starts.

“Mammon and I were just-”

“mc,”

“-Trying to build a bonfire and it-” 

“No, that’s not- wait, bonfire?!”

“-Just got a little bit out of our control and we-”

“mc,” He leans forward, his fingers resting on your jaw. Your mouth clamped shut quickly, goosebumps raising at his sudden touch.

“That's not why I called you in here, dove.” His voice was low and his fingers traced the line of your jaw, sending a whirlwind of emotions through you. Lucifer filed away the ‘bonfire incident’ to the back of his mind, deciding to interrogate Mammon about it later and focused on the beautiful human in front of him. 

“I wanted to ask you something important,” He stated, dropping his hands to his lap, intertwining his fingers together. Your eyes followed the motion, quickly moving back to his face. 

You nod patiently and he clears his throat in response, pushing himself off of the desk. He circles around it, pulling his chair out and reaching underneath, pulling out an extravagant bouquet of roses. It was elegantly wrapped in white paper with a crimson ribbon wrapped around the long stems. 

“Oh, Lucifer.” You gaped at the beautiful flowers. 

“I’m sure you’re aware of what I feel for you, I have not done so well at concealing it.” He paused, sincere eyes meeting yours. Lucifer strode to you slowly, reaching his hand out for you to take. You comply, standing and placing your hand in his.

“Please, allow me to take you on a date.” He concluded, gently grazing your knuckles with his thumb. 

Your breath caught in your throat, resulting in a small gasp as you processed what he said. He waited patiently, eyes scanning your face for any hint at what was brewing inside that pretty head of yours. 

“Yes,” You break the silence, “Yes, I’d love to.” 

His face split into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on Lucifer. He pulls your hand to his lips kissing your knuckles every so slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. 

And in the restaurant, there you were before him. In your eyes, there was a corner of existence that had gone undiscovered by him, the warmth and the yearning for something he had never known. 

[crvptydgaming]

Okay, I know I haven't exactly been a screenshot-taking MACHINE this year... But hey, a girl can dream!

✨Top 24 Screenshots of 2024✨ challenge! I was tagged by @esotericas-sims <3

Tagging:

@berryconfetti (her rainbowcy is pure gold)

@waveport (seriously, one day i'll ask you to teach me how you do what you do)

@myheartsims (haven't seen much from you this year, what do you have for me?)

@s4rainbows (what have been YOUR favourite moments?)

(I'm mostly tagging you all because I'm curious to see what amazing things you captured.)

(Find my questionable screenshots hidden below if you dare. 😅)

February

Well, that was a short-lived attempt at a restarting my rainbowcy. My laptop had other plans, apparently. But hey, at least I got a good chapter out of it! I'll definitely be back for round two...or five at this point.

March

Embarking on my Disney Princess Legacy again, and I'm already smitten with Rosa all over again. 💕 She's been my Snow White from the very beginning, and it feels so right to have her lead this new adventure.

April

So, my Sleeping Beauty heir is supposed to be graceful and elegant, right? 😂 Turns out Marina is a frog-loving whirlwind of chaos. Guess I need to adjust my expectations for this Disney Princess Legacy.

May

Marina's finally a teen, and her generation of the DPL has officially begun! 👑 I've been chronicling her adventures through her tweets, and let me tell you, it's been wild. You guys haven't seen this side of the Legacy yet – I'm waiting until her reign is over to unleash the chaos on Tumblr! 😈

I embarked on a Herculean feat: building an entire Fallout vault in The Sims 4. 🤯 The sheer ambition… it was glorious. Sadly, the post-construction depression set in, and my Vault Dwellers are still waiting for their orders. Maybe a restart is in order? 🤔

Remember that time I tried to speedrun an NSB legacy? 😅 Generation 1 was a chaotic blur, but I captured most of it in a day. Now, Gen 2 is waiting patiently… maybe I'll finally get around to it soon. 😉

June

Apparently, I have a problem. The rest of Gen 1 for my NSB speedrun also happened in a single day. 🤪 Send help (and maybe a therapist?).

Behold! A groundbreaking endeavour: a Berry Pastel Rainbowcy infused with the spirit of historical exploration. Prepare to be captivated by the vibrant Sims, their lives unfolding against the backdrop of time, all narrated with the eloquence of the legendary Sir David Attenborough. This is going to be epic.

July

The 'Daughters of the Stars' legacy, a tale of courage in the face of fear, was born in July. While the initial draft needs a bit of polishing, the core concept remains intriguing. This story is far from over. It will rise again, stronger than before!

In a moment of sheer madness, I decided to tackle the Super Sim Challenge in July. 🤪 No pressure, just maxing out every skill and aspiration. My founder was a force to be reckoned with as a teen, but then… well, let's just say real life got in the way. 🙈

August

August? August was a blur of recolors and Super Simming. 🤪 Basically, I achieved peak laziness. But hey, sometimes you just need to vibe, right?

September

September: A month of… well, not much. I tried to branch out, attempted to start a story called 'Del Sol Dreaming' (don't ask), and mostly just wandered aimlessly.

November

November: Darkness descends. I've begun the chilling reimagining of 'Til Death,' a story I once told as part of a greater whole. The Sims are crafted, the stage is set, and the hub beckons. Prepare for a tale of suspense, betrayal, and… the inevitable.

December

A sudden shift in the winds of fate! December saw me abandon the chilling narrative of 'Til Death' for the more relaxed world of Kinbound.

But fear not, for I also found time to capture the vibrant lives of Marina and Roth, my DPL heirs, as they embraced the vibrant hues of Del Sol Valley! 🎨

[foap-enjoyer]

Drugging | Sick | Poisoned

Sick.

'Soap thinks he's got just a simple cold. Nope. Anyway, cue blizzard safehouse one bed trope because I'm lazy'

Trigger warnings for this prompt: Vomit. Ships for this prompt: Sort of the start of Ghoap? Ghost is very affectionate, more or less.

The one my lovely tumblr people voted on all those days ago! :)

Read it here, on AO3: Ouch. - Chapter 5 - Tsukuyomi_Ravioli - Call of Duty (Video Games) [Archive of Our Own]

~

Missions in Russian mountains were becoming way too common. 

At least, that’s what Soap thought.

There were positives to mountain missions, he supposed. There were positives to everything. A beautiful view; clean, fresh, untouched air. Sometimes, on long missions, he would even see rare wildlife, animals which had never seen a human before. They would peer at him through the brush, eyes bright and curious. Sometimes, some would even come over, eat a bite of whatever he had on offer before scrambling away. He liked those pros.

But the cons? Well those fucking sucked. The cold, firstly. The cold sucked- oh, and don’t forget the lack of signal, which meant no far-lined comms, no phones, no nada. Just him, his team, and a shit ton of snow, usually for days at a time. It could drive even the most social of men insane.

Oh, and to top it off, as a little added bonus for this mission, because that’s just how he rolls- he was sick. Not super sick, mind you. It’d started off as a cold, when he’d woken up pre-mission. At least, he assumed it was. Itchy throat, ugly cough, his usual first symptoms. 

In his childhood, he would have curled up into a tiny, sniffling ball and let his mammy hold him, and soothe the pain away just with her touch. But now, he was a fully grown man. A grown man who worked in a job that, unlike being a student in school, would not tolerate a day off. Especially for something as small as a cold.

So, brushing his teeth, tying his laces, and grabbing his bag, he went out to face the day head on. Like a soldier would.

~

He really wished he was still seven, still at home with his mum.

This… cold was no fucking cold. This was a parasite worming its way into every orifice of his body, a disease spreading through his blood, an alien forcing itself inside his chest, taking control of every nerve and joint and muscle until he was nothing but mush.

Fucking cold his ass. If this was a cold, maybe it was time to retire, because he clearly was getting too old for this shit.

The harshness of the Russian wilderness didn’t help his case one bit. 

They’d landed at their respective drop-off points. Price and Gaz were on the complete opposite side of the mountains to him and Ghost, and the plan was to meet in the middle, where he and Gaz would infiltrate the government-owned set of buildings as Price and Ghost ran overwatch on the outskirts. A simple enough plan, until the blizzard hit.

“You’re telling me that higher-ups can plan entire wars to a T, if they wanted to, but they can’t check the fucking weather?”

That was Gaz, voice static-y through the comms. He sounded pissed, and of course he was, he was allowed to, given their situation. Hell, Soap was too. Price sighed, and Soap could imagine him rolling his eyes at the younger man, “There’s nothing we can do about it, Sergeant, so quit whining. Ghost?”

Ghost was behind him, using his path through the heaps of snow surrounding them to guide himself, and his sniper-kit through the rocky terrain. He could hear the man grunt as he lugged the heavy bag over a large rock in their path. “Yeah, Cap?”

“There should be a little safehouse just a few klicks North of your position. Fancy taking a wander over there? Can’t do shit if this storm keeps up like this.”

Ghost grasped Soap’s shoulder, altering his course slightly up the hill, rather than downwards. Soap’s knees wobbled with exhaustion, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Back up they go. “We’ll take a look. What’re you two doing?”

“Cap’s looking now, says there’s a cave nearby.” Gaz huffed out a laugh, “At least you guys get an actual house.”

Soap chuckled softly, his teeth chattering together like a talkative parrot, “Send me a pic if you find a bear in there, Kyle, would you? You know they’re my favourite animal.”

“Will do, prick.”

The comms silenced soon after. Soap assumed it was because, like them, Gaz and Price were having to hike a while to get to their location. The mountains weren’t the steepest, deadliest of mountains, but in a blizzard as bad as this one, you needed full concentration. 

The wind was at its peak now, whistling through the canyons of the snowy wilderness, spiking him right through his clothing with its cold crystals of air and ice. If it weren’t for his deathly grip onto the passing uncovered roots of mountain-grown trees, he’s certain he would have fallen right off of the cliff-face by now. 

He felt numb, his whole body was ice-cold. He was trembling, at least, which was a good thing. Meant his body was still working. Ghost was still behind him, lagging behind slightly, preoccupied with lugging his bags as well as checking their location. When he’d last trusted himself enough to look back, the man had been busy checking a little grey piece of technology, the blue light reflecting in his snow-white mask. 

He knew that the little ipod-like thing hadn’t initially been supposed to be used to find this supposed safehouse, but rather help Ghost angle himself correctly when it came to overwatch protection. For later in the mission. At least higher-ups had been courteous enough to give them some form of direction in case of an emergency.

“Should be over this last hill!” Ghost startled him with his shout, even if he barely heard it over the wind. A hand clasped his shoulder when he stumbled, startled, and he could see a gloved finger in his peripheral, pointing in said direction. When Ghost spoke next, his voice was in his ear. “Through those trees.”

He nodded.

Another twenty, maybe thirty minutes, and they finally, finally came upon the house. If he was honest, it was more of a glorified shed, maybe. At least from a distance. No windows, one door, a little wooden building sat nestled between a few cut-down stumps of previous trees. Maybe the wood used to make it? Probably. 

The door had been locked, but a sharp boot to the lock had solved that issue. Their fingers were too numb to pick the lock anyway. 

Inside, it wasn’t too bad. There was a little fireplace, a sofa- actually no, it was a pullout sofa-bed, actually. In the other room, the only other room, a tiny kitchen. That was it, really. It wasn’t the worst safehouse he’d seen (he’d give that to the one he’d stumbled into, half stabbed, in Romania a few years back), but it wasn’t the best either. It didn’t even have a bathroom!

Ghost got to work as soon as the door was closed behind them. He shuffled forward, dumping his kit on the floor as he began shedding his clothes piece-by-piece, dumping them onto the back of the sofa-bed. He was in the middle of taking his shoes off before he peered up at Soap, confused. “Johnny?”

He blinked. “Yeah?”

“Clothes.”

He blinked again, before nodding, fingers trembling, fumbling for his coat’s zipper, “Yeah, gotcha.”

“No inappropriate joke today, Sergeant?”

He shook his head tiredly, “Too fuckin’ cold, LT.”

A soft huff of a laugh, and Ghost placed his boots against a nearby wall, tugging his soggy, icy mask off. Frost clung to his eyelashes, and calloused fingers rubbed at them. Once the majority of the white was gone from the hairs, Ghost’s eyes were on him again, eyebrow curled, “Soap?”

Oh. He was staring again. He shook his head, going back to fumbling with his stuff. “Sorry.”

If Ghost was worried, he didn’t say anything about it. “I’m gonna go look at the kitchen for some food.” He said instead, “You get the fire going when you can. You’re right, it’s fucking freezing.”

He watched as the man turned his back and waltzed into the kitchen. Which, technically, was simply an extension of the living room. All that separated them was a tiny archway, after all.

Once he finally got his coat off, and tossed onto the floor, was when his body began to fail him.

“Ghost…?”

“Yeah?” Ghost turned, peering at him from the other room, his eyes dark in the dim lighting of the safehouse. “What’s up?”

“I don’t…” He swallowed harshly. The room was beginning to spin violently, and he reached a hand out desperately to clutch onto the nearest object, that being the sofa. “I don’t feel so good…”

“Johnny?” Ghost’s voice was starting to fade out as he fought to keep himself upright. 

Something was buzzing under his skin, warm and itchy. Sweat pooled against his neck. He had been cold only a moment ago, freezing, even… What was wrong with him? “Simon?”

A hand on his shoulder, “I’m here.”

“I think…” His stomach coiled, and he squeezed his eyes shut with a soft hiccup, “‘m gonna be sick.”

“Alright, alright.” Simon’s hands wrapped around him, guiding him forward, towards the small kitchen. But as soon as his hand released its deathly grip on the sofa, Soap’s knees gave in. 

He would have hit the floor if it weren’t for Simon, who took his weight with a grunt, barely managing to move them forward off of carpet and onto tile before Soap vomited.

“Easy, Johnny,” He could hear Simon attempt to soothe as he retched, fully held up in the older man’s arms. He felt limp, boneless, “Easy.”

His world continued to spin violently as he heaved, the cold tile on his knees sharply contrasting the horrible burning sensation consuming him whole. He whimpered, trying to squirm away from the heat inside him. Simon just held him tighter. “It’ll be over soon.”

“I-” He retched again, dry heaving over a steadily growing pile of vomit. His eyes stung, and he choked on a sob. “Fuck-”

A hand pressed into his forehead. “You’re burning up…” Simon muttered softly, “Fuck, Johnny, why didn’t you tell me?”

He hiccuped, turning to press his head under the crook of Simon’s neck. He was crying, he could feel the familiar wet warmth soaking into the fabric of Simon’s shirt. He wanted to apologise, but breathing was hard enough at the minute. His hands, trembling, clutched onto Simon wherever he could get a good grip, circling around the man’s back, holding tight. 

He swore a kiss pressed into his hair. He swore it. “You’re alright, I got you.” Simon’s voice was firm, and yet it was laced with worry. They were both hardened soldiers, he shouldn’t be sobbing like this over a simple sickness. It had to be something more, right? After a moment,  “Do you still feel sick?”

He shook his head.

“Okay.” Simon took a moment to think, to breathe. Soap. “Okay. I’m going to move you to the sofa, and then clean this up. Think you can move?”

He shook his head again. His knees felt like jelly, if he got up, he’d most definitely fall right back down.

“It’s alright,” Simon murmured, “I’ll carry you.”

With a quick rearrange of arms, followed by a soft grunt, Simon lifted him up. Instinctively, Soap clutched close, squeezing his eyes shut once more as his head spun. As soon as Simon settled him onto the sofa only inches away, he brought a hand up to his mouth, dry heaving into his palm once more. No vomit, this time.

A hand rubbed at his back. “Easy.” A hand in his hair. He leaned against it tiredly as Simon helped him lean backwards onto the old cushions. “Just breathe. It’ll help.”

As soon as he was sitting comfortably, the hands were gone. His eyes cracked open, looking around. Simon had just… disappeared.

“Si’?” He croaked, anxiety coiling. He hadn’t heard him leave, where was he? “Right here.” A damp cloth touched his forehead, and moments later the man was back in view, kneeling down in front of him. A bowl was given to Soap, settled in his lap neatly. “If you’re sick again.”

“Oh.” He rasped. Yeah, of course Simon would think to go grab something. 

A glass of water was offered next. His hands reached out shakily to take it, but Simon didn’t let go, instead holding the glass steady as Soap brought it to his lips, taking small sips. He pulled it away a moment later. “Not too much.” He reminded Soap, “It’ll make you throw up.”

He hummed tiredly. “I know.”

“Now you’re not puking your guts up.” The glass was placed onto a nearby old, dusty coffee table. Simon’s eyes were on him not long after. “Care to explain why you thought it was a good idea to come out on a mission when you were feeling like shit?”

“I didn’t feel bad this morning.” Which was true. Sort of. It’d, mostly, come on suddenly. “Once I felt sick, we were already off.”

“You could’ve still told someone.” Simon’s voice was soft, but firm. “Price, Gaz, me, hell, even the pilots. Anyone, Soap.”

“Sorry.” He whispered tiredly. “Wasn’t thinking.”

“I can’t get a hold of Price.” That woke him a little. “Signal’s shit. Blizzard is practically snowing us in, I think.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.” Simon sighed, hand reaching up to brush some blonde, stray strands behind his ear. “But we’ve got a while before we’ll need to check back in. So, we’ll just hunker down. Feel like eating?”

He shook his head. Simon’s eyes softened. “You need to, Johnny.”

He shook his head again, eyes drooping slightly. “‘M tired.”

“Alright.” Simon relented, biting his lip. “Alright. I’ll… We can eat later?”

He nodded. That worked. 

“You take the sofa,” Simon went to move, “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

He reached out, grasping his wrist. “We can share.” He murmured, exhausted. “It’s a sofa-bed.”

“Yeah, like a single bed.” The older man huffed, “I can take the floor.”

He didn’t let go of the man’s wrist. Simon didn’t pull away, either. “Just sleep here.” He yawned, “‘S easier.”

There was a pause, before a soft; “You’re not gonna puke on me, are you?”

He chuckled, eyes already closed, “Only if you snore.”

[merrivia]

There’s something I find quite curious about the Captive Prince trilogy.

The lack, or paucity, of any references to religion. Or mythology or folklore. I find that a really interesting creative choice, because I think most readers feel the shapes of the fairytales and myths and beliefs that lie, like bones or the foundation of a building, under the surface of the story.

So let's discuss.

Firstly, belief systems. We know Akielos, much like the Ancient Greece it’s modelled on, has philosophers, even if we never hear about them in any detail.

We know there are Veretian and Akielon rituals regarding death. Aleron and Auguste are entombed, and so is Damen's faked body with Theomedes.

Akielon rituals are told to us in more detail via Nikandros:

There is an Ancient Greek death ritual called the ekphora, a “ritual procession of the deceased’s body from where it had been laid out to the place of burial”. The prefix ek meant ‘out’ and phora ‘to carry’ so it literally denotes the carrying out of the body to be buried. I couldn't find 'ekthanos' as a real extant word, but with the same logic ekthanos means out + thanos- a word that can mean immortal or death depending on how you might interpret the etymology of it.

It sounds like Nikandros completed a mourning ritual and lit something (a votive lamp?) symbolically (perhaps it symbolises the leaving of the spirit, as that which removes or leads out the immortal soul from the body, hence ekthanos?). I would assume it was a funeral pyre if it weren't for the fact that Damen's body was interred (could it have been ashes that were interred? That would be safer if you're going to fake someone's death, but that's honestly me very much extrapolating from nothing. Also damn, Nikandros loves Damen. My heart honestly feels so warm about him. If that happened, and he stepped up to light the pyre when Kastor didn't, than he really is his real brother).

But for all this, there is no sense of an afterlife nor praying to deities.

More after the jump:

Edit: Unless you count Jokaste’s note to Damen, which seems to point to Greek ideas of metempsychosis/reincarnation.

Regardless of that though there are no powerful institutions, no churches or temples, no religious figures to appease.

At first I thought there were no mentions of gods at all.

But there is.

Firstly in the very first description of Laurent in the baths:

And secondly, in the Akielon epic Erasmus sings:

There’s also an unusual mention of Nereus who has a collection of statues in his garden. At first, because Nereus was a Greek god and because it felt faintly familiar, I took it for a classical allusion then swiftly realised on googling that it wasn’t. Or at least I don’t think so? Someone enlighten me, and I'll edit if I'm wrong.

So I think we can safely assume Akielos once had gods, but the religion died out perhaps (thought not due to the rise of Christianity). And their pantheon may have been pretty much been the Greek one as the influence might linger in names like Nereus, literally a god of the sea (and Damianos from Damia, a minor goddess of fertility, and Nikandros which has a root in Nike, goddess of victory…).

Edit: having now read The Training of Erasmus, Nereus is a slave owner, and his gardens a place for young pre-pubescent slaves to have their initial training. Sigh. Reading that story really is just heartbreaking.

Keeping to the topic I suppose (even with the lingering sense of disgust that ran through me while reading it) did he collect statues that were relics of the times before and keeps them in this garden? You can see statuary fitting into this strange rarified space for the most beautiful youths. It could be some echoing of Roman pleasure gardens which generally had that sort of statuary? Or is it a mirroring of Renaissance Italy where they tried to recreate Roman gardens, taking classical statues from ruins to restore and place in them? Who knows!

Without being explicit, Pacat makes it clear that beautiful Laurent is classical-statue-beautiful. Greek god beautiful. A Ganymede, perhaps or an Adonis. And slave beautiful, too.

And, of course, Damianos has so many parallels to Achilles, from his unparalleled strength and prowess on the battlefield, to his ability to strategise as if Athena is guiding him, to how he can become blinded by rage. The warrior-hero.

Ultimately, I guess what’s interesting is Pacat’s choices. It’s really hard to avoid any religious references in writing, as these allusions are baked in so deep to language. Damen being made a slave is called a “living hell”. Laurent presents an “angelic countenance”. Damen "prays" the training arena is empty so he can escape. Orlant thinks that Akielos sounds like "paradise". Interestingly, all those quotes are from Captive Prince, and it seems as if, as Pacat went along, she steered away more and more from any kind of religious reference.

I mean, I get wanting to steer clear of religion. After polytheistic religions came the monotheistic- and then suddenly we have a whole heap of reasons why homosexuality is a sin. If we cut that off, and there is no spread of Christianity across Europe, it seems we get the bisexual culture of Vere and Akielos and Patras.

[Edit: But also sex as a sin in general does not exist. The policing of heterosexual premarital sex came into being to control reproduction, which in turn helps secure bloodlines in a patriarchal society. And so Pacat very neatly invents another social taboo as a substitute; the fear of bastardry, which means no heterosexual premarital sex EVER, and thus bisexuality becomes the norm (Damen is against this seeing it as potentially leading to situational sexual behaviour which doesn’t feel right to him).]

I also think it may have distracted from Pacat’s pared down yet evocative writing style. And added layers of unnecessary complication as the Veretian version of the Church would be another tricky, powerful and corrupt institution for him to battle and there really is no room for that in the narrative.

And just as a mini musing of a postcript, we know Laurent reads illuminated manuscripts:

We know these surely can't be prayerbooks, so I think we can assume that they are histories and works of poetry and stories.

Stories of courtly love perhaps? Fables, legends and folklore? Old Akielon myths? I would love to know what he read.

There are two French/European stories that do come to mind when I think of Laurent.

Beauty and the Beast, of course, with Laurent-the-beautiful and Damen-the-'giant-animal', and the trope of the kind-hearted lover who thaws the heart of the one who has grown cold and cruel.

And Reynard the fox, the trickster figure, whose "sly amorality" is "sympathetic as it is needed for his survival".

And whose main antagonist is, of course, his uncle.

[deathbxnny]

♧《What lies beyond the paintings》♧

(Chapter one- "??? World")

-----♡

A/N: So this is my official start to my IB x Hsr inspired series! Now, you don't need to know anything about the game to read this and I wanted to get the first chapter out, before starting requests, so here it is! Please let me know what you think of it and if you'd like me to continue the series!<3

Summary: You only begrudgingly agreed to joining your parents on a trip to the Belobog museum. Yet after touring the entire building and coming across an odd painting, you return to the main floors only to find them empty... devoid of life. What is the meaning of this? And most importantly, where is everyone... and are you really alone? And if you are alone... why do you feel so watched?

Content: Angst, Teen reader, Gore warning, blood, stalking, horror/unsettling elements, very loosely IB inspired story events

Featured characters: Serval, Gepard, Seele, Bronya

Reader can be any gender.

((Not fully proofread))

The Belobog History and Culture museum was deemed as the cities most popular attraction, ever since it opened it's doors weeks ago. Crowds of people practically flooded in and out of the building in a steady stream every day, their eyes wide and curious with awe, as they gazed upon the beautiful and breathtaking artifacts every new room had to offer.

Most forgot the time and just walked around for hours, always excited, whenever they discovered something new to learn about. Some just stood before a painting for a small eternity, fixated on the need to observe and understand it's meaning. And through the hard work of certain important members of the city, more and more people seemed to come in through the large doors every day, just so they can experience a small part of the past themselves.

Your parents were one of those people, having waited on the opening of the museum for what seemed to be their entire life's. Or so it seemed to your bored mind, as you recalled their excitement at the news. It didn't take them long to drag you along for a visit either, not that you had a choice in the matter anyways. You weren't convinced of it's importance or it's impressive reputation. It was just a building with some old junk displayed in it. What's so interesting about that?

Your parents on the otherhand believed that a single visit may just change your mind on the matter. "Come on now, dear... Surely a small look around won't hurt, yes? Go on without us, we'll sort out the tickets." Your mother ushered, an eager smile stretching across her face. You frown, but shrug, deciding to just get it over with. You had nothing better to do anyways.

And so you began walking through the large archways into the first room. You looked around, a feeling of uneasiness filling you. Too many people, you determine. You pushed past people to get through. Children, their parents, an elderly couple, so many people. The entire city seemed to be here and it made you quietly note that the rumours were true after all. Everyone loved this place.

Your eyes occasionally caught the sight of some paintings, even going as far as to read the descriptions. But most were redacted or intelligible to your eyes. It was odd and yet you found yourself never paying enough attention to them. Like you weren't supposed to. Not yet anyways.

"Oh hey there Kid! Good to see you around." Your eyes met Serval's briefly, as you nodded awkwardly, greeting her politely. Your parents were architects themselves. They knew Serval and in turn, you did too. But that didn't make you any less quiet or unsociable. You were always a little like that with everyone anyways.

"Bet they brought you here, huh? Well, I hope you're having a little bit of fun at least... Did you see Gepard anywhere actually? I've been looking for him all day." Serval continued, making you shake your head. "Nope, I'm afraid not." You say, Serval sighing with an understanding nod. "Fine then... I guess I'll just have to continue searching for him... see ya around!" Serval ruffled your hair, a slight laugh escaping her lips, before she slipped back into the crowd and escaped your view.

You huff, fixing your hair, as you continued on your way through the room into another one nearby. You fleetingly caught the sight of Supreme Guardian herself and her grumpy, indigo haired friend, you didn't know much about. But just as fast as you saw them, they also disappeared into the thick crowd. It was beginning to feel suffocating here and for a moment, you wondered if you should just return to the front lobby.

But then, your eyes caught the glint of a marble staircase. It was in a dark corner, hidden partially by large, red satin curtains. Yet you still saw it and suddenly felt the urge to ascend them. You were the only one, who seemed to notice them. Everyone just walked past it, like it didn't exist. Weren't they also curious about what might may be up there? You glanced around, deciding that a little bit of silence would do you some good. Besides, you might as well explore this place to the fullest, just like your parents wanted you to.

You quickly slipped past the curtains, before slowly walking up the white stairs. It got darker and darker with every step you climbed, the buzzing of the crowd becoming distant, until all you heard was the sound of your shoes echoing against the tight walls the stairs were surrounded by. You shivered, suddenly feeling so cold. Finally arriving on the last step, you noticed that you were now in a very dimly lit room. But the light was still enough for you to see that... odd painting with.

It was large and long, reaching both corners of the wall it hung up on perfectly with it's size. Approaching it carefully, you tilted your head at the confusing image. It was abstract and nearly nonsensical. You couldn't figure out any of the shapes and certainly not it's meaning. Perhaps it was another instance of weird modern art... but why couldn't you remember seeing it in the catalogue your mother showed you about the artifacts displayed in the museum? Surely you couldn't have missed something like this...?

Your eyes glanced down at the only description that came with the colorful painting. But just like the other descriptions in the museum, this one was also partially intelligible.

"??? World"

You gulp, suddenly feeling watched. This place was seriously beginning to creep you out. And the mysterious existence of this painting wasn't helping either. You returned back downstairs soon after, deciding that that was enough exploration for the day. Home seemed heavenly now.

--

The rooms were empty. The hallways were empty. It was dark. The lights shut off, blinds drawn closed, the buzzing of the crowd deafening against the natural silence of the museum. The sound of your shoes echoed off the walls, your head turning to look around in confusion and fear. Just where was everyone? What had happened? You were headed to the front lobby now, the feeling of being watched becoming stronger and stronger. You sped up.

Had you perhaps forgotten the time? No... you weren't up there for more than at least 10 minutes. There was no way it could've gotten this dark without you noticing. And your parents would've otherwise looked for you, you knew they would have. But when you finally returned to the front lobby, you noticed that it was empty as well. Just what this any of this mean? You couldn't make sense of any of this, as you approached a window in an attempt of perhaps seeing what was going on outside.

It was pitch black, not even a single streetlight to be seen. You frown, squinting to see at least someone out there to ease your anxious mind. You jumped suddenly, reeling back in horror, as you stumbled away from the window. Blood was running down the glass, the liquid glinting dangerously in the dark. "What the hell?!" You gasped, your body scrambling to get away, before you found yourself running through the rooms again, away from whatever that was. You passed another window, having subconsciously sworn that you saw a shadow pass it by.

Where were your parents? Where was everyone? Why were you alone? Who was watching you?

You skidded to a halt, unable to run anymore, as you panted heavily. You looked back at where you came from, yet saw nothing but the empty halls and rooms stretching on endlessly behind you. What was that? You could've sworn it was blood. Real blood. A shiver ran up your spine, as you wondered where it might've come from.

But wait... this room... those curtains... that hidden staircase. You had ran all the way back here... and suddenly you found yourself ascending those stairs again, against your better judgement. You couldn't help yourself. You wanted explanations, answers. You were so dazed, so confused, you just had to see what was up here again.

You were in the dimly lit room now once more, but something was different this time. There was something written on the wall bellow the painting, scribbled clumsily in blue paint. You grit your teeth in fear, your heart dropping.

"Come to me (Y/N)"

You were shivering, your body freezing up for a moment. That was your name. Whoever it was, that was watching you, knew your name. You slowly turned your body around, wondering if it was too late to run, when you noticed blue footprints leading down the staircase. You stare at them, before sighing in defeat, your breath shaky and weak. It seems like you had no choice. With a final glance at the painting, you began following the footprints.

You seemed to follow them endlessly through these empty, cold halls and rooms, always looking out for someone, anyone. But you were alone with whoever it was that stalked you. You could feel their eagerness, their excitement. You didn't want to know, why they felt this way. It was best you never found out either. But your stalker seemed to have other plans.

The blue footprints came to a halt infront of a painting that depicted the lobby of the Goethe Hotel. Your hand shook, as you reached out for it, your fingertips barely brushing against the surface of the canvas, before you blinked and suddenly found yourself in the hotel's lobby. You gasped in surprise, nearly stumbling backwards down the Grand stairs.

You panted softly from the anixiety and fear you felt. You didn't know what was going on. You wanted to go home. You wanted your parents. Your head turned to the front desk in hopes of seeing anyone. But once again, there was not a single soul in sight.

Only a red rose floated slightly above the desk, enticing you to come closer. You were careful with your movements, as though the flower would attack you at any moment. You felt the irresistible urge to touch it then and so you did, watching in awe, as you grasped it's delicate stem. You were holding it now, feeling energised and replenished. Just what was the purpose of this rose?

As you pondered it's meaning, a door on the right opened on it's own, practically inviting you in. You jumped, nervously glancing at the rose. It seemed like you had no other choice but to go along with whatever game you were involuntarily playing.

And so, you slowly and carefully walked through, the doors shutting and locking themselves tightly behind you.

Your fate officially sealed.

-----♡

A/N: Alrighttttt.... it's been a while since I've written this much hahaha! I really hope you guys liked it! Please let me know your thoughts and what you think of it!

If you're interested enough, I'll make another part! For now though, I'll finally pass out and sleep...

[empresstheresa-guide]

And here we have it: the final cover. It's a new "improved" version of the previous two. Yikes.

There's a certain aesthetic to the font and color, which I think is OK. It looks a bit distinctive from other book covers, and is miles better than the unprofessional font in the last two. I'm not a huge fan of purple and yellow, but I don't want to knock this. The yellow rectangle is a bit too high, but apart from that, I'd say this aspect is fine.

But Theresa.. I mean look at that face. It looks flat, like she's made of paper. The nose is so odd with its grey lines. It seems he drew it in pencil and then never filled in the line work. Maybe he was worried about "ruining" it. Or maybe he drew a face he didn't like, and then erased/filled with paint and drew it all over again. The impression is very uneven. Remember Theresa is supposed to be super beautiful, and when you write a character like that - not saying you should - the expectations are high. And at least for me, this doesn't do it at all. The first cover showed a happy, proud looking woman who actually had expressive eyes It felt more natural, while these later covers seem so tortured. He probably toiled for hours and hours to make her look "just right", but it just turned worse and worse. Drawing, trying again, coloring, erasing. Over and over. Sitting up late at night in your room, frantically drawing more and more, in a frenzy of having to make it better.

Her hands bother me the most. They're completely different sizes. They look like mannequin hands, and the fingers are oddly bent. Salad Fingers meets Vincent Adultman. She also seems to have very old-fashioned red nails. I guess long nails would make the fingers look even worse, but there's something so dated about her whole look.

And then there's her torso. The breasts are super far apart, but at least they're not unrealistically huge this time. The rest of her body is just completely flat. No hips. I thought she had a sexy butt, which she admires herself in one chapter. Usually that would include big hips, but maybe that's too "fat" for Norman.

The microphone is now red and less disturbing than the neon green one, but it's still very small and looks like Norman drew it with a single line. A black, sturdy microphone would look much better. I bet Norman doesn't watch any modern videos, because most streamers use proper headsets.

Somehow the soldiers turn into dogs, then spiders. The buildings get smaller, except for the one that's randomly slightly bigger. Norman needs to learn about perspective. You'd think there are art guides all over the internet for this kind of thing.

Not the worst version, but it's a hot mess. I give this 3,5/10 HALs.

I'm very curious to see if he will make a new cover some day. He seems to have trouble letting go of the book, probably because he sees it as his life's work, and it's hard to stop working on it. Maybe he feels empty and like something is missing. He should try to write another book. Many people would buy it, just to see how bad it is.

[leohtttbriar]

just curious, have you read binti by nnedi okorafor? i’m a bit reminded of her worldbuilding style when i read your star trek fics, if that makes sense

when i saw this i had not read binti by nnedi okorafor but now i have!! and it was beautiful and i really found the world-building fascinating as well as the rest of the story. and i have to thank you so much for bringing these stories to my attention!

i'm not going to claim that my star trek fics are like this bc that is so deeply flattering that i can only shy away from it (how is someone supposed to react to a part of their writing being compared to a quality of an award winning novella--i can't accept that fully but oh wow thank you so much), but i will say that there are details in okorafor's story that appeal to me and drag my interest and inspire me to want to write more. and i think if wanted to try to boil down what these details are it'd come out to something like: physical reality is more creative than the general narrative of physics supposes.

(apologies for how long this got--i am incapable of stopping once i start)

obviously the word "creative" invokes something like a designer, someone who put it all together. and i definitely don't believe in god but i also think that "god" serves as a interpretive interlocutor between how people expect physical reality to be and how it's beyond us--at least to people who aren't consistently enmeshed in theoretical physics or any other field/area of science that engages more with abstraction than materiality. and i love how okorafor takes the aesthetics of spirituality and extends that to tech. how she collapses the space between tech and art:

[...]

okorafor even invokes "god" multiple times, all in relation to the himba people that binti is a part of. and the way she reworks the theme of "innovation" is the expression of "god" in tech--creativity in material realities:

even just the suggestion that innovation and technology can be "small, private" and for "traveling inward" to explore the universe is fascinating enough--then she adds on this idea of "treeing"--of meditating so deeply on mathematics that physical parts of the world can "harmonize" with other parts through that power of mind and noticing and "inward" travel. it's wonderful.

she then has mathematics and harmonizing language with this conceit of "information" being found in certain material and how that material can be the medium of communication:

[...]

and that's not even getting to the way the red clay functions in the story and as a part of the world. the clay has information, data, and healing purpose, but the first time binti is asked to explain it to one of the meduse she says:

so all of this adds up to binti being in the right place and the right time in order to return what was stolen and save lives--when she says she's a master harmonizer, it's a layered claim in the story: she can create astrolabes, she can communicate with her edan--very old tech, she can physically communicate from her people to the meduse with the otjize she kept with her as she traveled outward in the universe, and she can use language.

[...]

i tend to be more interested in language as a physical gesture. as a thing that is wholly reliant on the body. i've always been more drawn to phonetics than semantics, and all the potentially significant ways a body can express itself. i just like meter and sound and gesture etc. obviously that's a part of how okorafor engages with "language" in this story but largely "language" arrives through mathematics--through something as abstract and rational and creative as mathematics--through a practice with "getting closer to 'god.'" and that's so beautiful in terms of the idea of "harmonizing," implying a peace and understanding between conscious beings that always exists so long as someone can tap into it.

binti's role in the story reminded me a little of the narrative/cultural role of the "peaceweaver" in early medieval poetry/culture. the sort of diplomatic conceit behind marriages of daughters to neighboring kings, but instilled in the actual person of the daughter/new wife, the woman who is now "weaving" peace through her ties to both kingdoms. binti of course isn't acting as diplomat through this cultural custom (the politics of medieval power structures are not really there to cause this role to exist to begin with) but the word "peaceweaver" is a word that suggests a creative engagement in material reality. she is weaving material together, she is weaving people together; the word poetically collapses the space between her abilities in a feminine craft and her abilities in her political role. and there's something like that happening with binti's "harmonizing"--her role as "harmonizer."

[...]

so despite the fact that the conceit of "language" is depicted as something that is an abstract truth that can be accessed, okorafor is still arguing that "communication" is a product of the person. so long as the person is not barrier-ed or diminished. so long as that person has always been able to communicate their self to the world around them, in such a way that the person does not keep that self apart from the world. "treeing"--engaging with fractals, self-similar mathematical patterns in perpetuity--being both the accessing of material truth and "god"--allowing for treating with other people. between people. with a result of cultural harmony.

with binti's edan i was reminded also of the golden compass in his dark materials. pullman depicts the compass as a piece of tech more than a piece of magic, even if magic definitely exists in-universe. and the way lyra has a special relationship to this tech, then looses it, then decided to figure the relationship out the hard way: binti's relationship with the edan is very like this but also okorafor writes it so that binti has already done the hard work of figuring out the tech, with her studies and meditation throughout her life (practices of her people), and by the end of the story she just needs to understand her understanding. and there's something about the fact that she is using "god" instead of fully rejecting it, as the story demands lyra does, because the relationship one can have to an object, a piece of tech, can be personal--and the personal is necessarily spiritual (the emergent property of self-consciousness, implementing an abstract meaning on that which might not inherently contain it--the "to be" rather than "not to be").

and the way binti's body is warped at the end of the story, changing her relationship to everything around her, mirrors the way she has carried her people's clay with her as communicative tool and personal expression and cultural honoring of her land and family and loved ones. she is still looking inward for the universe, it's just now the universe has become a part of her body.

anyway i was deeply interested in this story because i the speculative/sci-fi question that has most attracted me is the question of how biology and culture interact and how that interaction can produce something like technology or progress. it's an eco-critical question at the core because it's a question of how to be in the world and of the world while still not limiting the creativity that is as natural to our mind as any other part of the human body. it's how i read something like this novella as well as something like sir gawain and the green knight. it's like: when you're studying any aspect of biology, there's a tendency to see the description of, say, cellular respiration, and think, even unspoken, "who the hell came up with this. this is so impossibly complex. how does it even work??"

and the answer is "it works because that's how matter works. it works because that is how matter is. it works because it was inevitable for matter to behave this way in the conditions created because matter behaves this way and that is what is and that is it."

and so the "creativity" in that reality is not so much authored as it is the ongoing process of everything. trying to interpret and apply a culture that respects that is like...the project of climate activism, i guess. but maybe i'm getting to far into the umbrella Issue here. i just wanted to say that i loved this novella and i'm so so flattered by what you said and i find world-building details like the one's okorafor wrote to be fascinating and inspirational! <3333

[kathanglangit]

The Seventh Blade: Kalis - Bleeding Edge

And so- in the end- the wheel must turn, and a new day must usurp the old. Perhaps then, these long-fallen flowers will feed the soil, and nourish a new bloom. Perhaps the fire will find home in the bleeding rivers and cauterize the land, and the steam will rise into skies of the clearest blue. Perhaps our songs will be of triumphant yesterdays, hard-won and now bearing fruit. But we are Kadungganan- we do not sit idly to await the dawn. We claw at heaven to bring forth our own tomorrow! One more day until the launch of the Gubat Banwa Kickstarter! Fight for another day in the turbulent fires of the Sword Isles, carving out your own story by blade and sheer will in this tactical martial arts TTRPG, inspired by the thousand, thousand colors of Southeast Asia.

I've been posting weapons I've drawn for the game to count down the final week before the launch. This was supposed to be for Swordtember, but the deadline had to be pushed back. 7/7 blades, ending with the KALIS

This blade adorns the logo of Gubat Banwa, at once uniting and splitting in twain. Kalis refers to a number of uniquely Philippine variants of the more widely known collective of kris blades, which appears in several forms across Southeast Asia.

(Diagram by Lorenz Lasco) What separates Philippine kalis from kris seems to be an answer with multiple facets. Some say it's a linguistic matter, others say kalis refers specifically to certain blades from the Sulu archipelago.

(Photos from Raymundo Lucero)

(For comparison, an Indonesian kris) Admittedly, the kalis is a bit of a blindspot in my knowledge. I've done what research I can, and asked those who know better, but I exist a considerable distance away from where these blades belong- physically and culturally. This is, perhaps, where I will be most prone to making mistakes of fact with the information I present. If I make any mistakes, please do not hesitate correct me!

(Photo from Zambasulta Pakukus) On the heels of that disclaimer, let's take a look at the blade. This is definitely one of the most beautiful weapons I've ever had to draw. Philippine kris/kalis tend to be longer and more "sword-like" than those of our neighbors.

(Photos from Johnwick Cabrera) The hilts tend to differ depending on who makes them. Some sport what might be cockatoo/"kakatua" bird-head hilts, some have very ornate junggayan hilts, some feature okir carvings, some are more rudimentary.

(Photos from Dennis Andrew Golez) The blade is used by several peoples in the south Philippines, including the Maranao, the Tausug, and the peoples of Maguindanao. I am most definitely missing a few groups, this is not an exhaustive list. There are differences between the way they build hilts and assemble blades that I don't feel qualified to speak about. And yes, the blades are like that because they are an assembly near the handle.

(Photo from Sulu Utak Shop) Apart from hilt shape and assembly, variations occur in blade thickness, ornamentaion, presence and type of okir carvings, number of curves or seko (odd numbers), length (kalis sundang = "swords", kalis gunong = "daggers") Actually- you know what?

(Photo from Richard Hudson) Since this is the last one in the countdown, I'm going to do something different. I invite you to find the answers yourself. That is part of what Gubat Banwa is meant to be: an invitation to engage in a fantasy setting centered on our cultures, so you can tell stories built on our terms. The cultures in the Sword Isles are NOT the cultures in the real world from which they draw inspiration. It is very much still a fantasy setting. But part of engaging with the setting in good faith is doing your own learning, on things for which you are not owed an explanation. Curiosity rewards the adventurous. The kalis is well-researched. If you're curious about something, you'll find the answers. You don't need me to hold your hand.

Instead, I'm just going to show you some of the coolest kalis I've seen.

(Silver and ivory-hilted kalis from the NCAA) A (relatively) simple but gorgeous build by a modern smith.

(Blade by Zambasulta Pakukus) A pair of kalis from a smith in Zamboanga.

(Blade by Panday Onsboy Maktar) Silver-hilted kalis from Sulu.

(Photos from Arma Filipinas; Polished by the "Blade Barber") Kalis with some gorgeous carvings on it.

(Photos from Sulu Utak Shop) Kris inlaid with a brass naga.

(Photos from Ron Zambaranno) Kalis rehilted by a Lumad group- uncertain which group. Supposedly, the Lumad would take kris they captured from enemies, disassemble them, and rehilt the blade.

This one appears to have a blade that looks like most of the kalis we've seen, but with a hilt similar to Indonesian or Malaysian variants.

(Photos from Raymundo Lucero) Antique Moro kris sundang with a hilt made of fossilized mammoth tooth, ornamented with a silver coin from the 1700s. A personal favorite, as I used the hilt as a reference for one of my favorite designs.

(Photo from Richard Hudson)

(Art by yours truly) As with the panabas, the people who make and use the kalis are still around. There are bladesmiths, scholars, practitioners of Moro Fighting Arts, historians, and just people who live alongside these blades who can tell their own stories better than I ever could.

(Photo from Richard Hudson)

I hope this and all the other threads I made inculcated an interest in some of you- even those who just look at the pictures (I see you)- to look into these blades yourself. Do your due diligence, treat people with respect, and approach what you are unfamiliar with in good faith- and you should be well on your way to learning more than you thought there ever was to know.

The Gubat Banwa Kickstarter launches in 1 day! Check it out here:

A very special thanks to GB team-member onefloor who helped expand my knowledge on this blade. This legend scores the music for Gubat Banwa, check them out here! This will be the last blade post I do for the promotion. I'm going back into the hole I dug in the ground to work on the rest of the weapons I'm drawing for this game. If there's interest, I might do another series of 7 before the Kickstarter campaign ends. Anyway, help us get the word out, small team of creators from the global south, too broke to advertise, etc. etc. you know the drill by now if you've read the other posts. Until next time! Until glory!

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Azul Ashengrotto Masquerade Dress Personal Story: Part 1

"A simple, mysterious talisman."

Part 1 (Part 2) (Part 3)

[Noble Bell College]

Azul: Sigh… My plan was to thoroughly enjoy this visit to the City of Flowers, but we were truly in a pinch last night.

Azul: Thanks to all that running around exterminating the crimson lotus flowers, my muscles are sore everywhere, and I hardly was able to sleep, so I'm just terribly tired… Yaaawn…

Azul: However, I've come all this way to the City of Flowers. I must explore every nook and cranny of this city and gather any ideas that may be a boon to my businesses.

Azul: Unlike the other students, I have no time to relax or lounge about until the masquerade. Alright, let's quickly head towards the town.

[City of Flowers]

Azul: My, the people of the City of Flowers sure have cultivated a wonderful entrepreneurial spirit!

Azul: I cannot believe that despite the frantic commotion caused by the crimson lotus flowers last night, the stores have already opened their doors, business as usual.

Azul: Thankfully, that meant I was able to enjoy a nice brunch with dishes made with goat's milk. Now, where should I go next…

Rook: I spy Azul-kun! Bonjour.

Azul: Oh, if it isn't Rook-san. Good morning… Or I suppose it may be a little too late in the day to say that.

Rook: I didn't expect to run into you here in town.

Rook: It is all thanks to the valiant efforts of you and the others that we are able to witness another spectacular morning.

Rook: After facing such grueling tribulations, I'm sure both your body and spirit are completely warn out. Are you sure you don't need to rest in bed?

Azul: Honestly, I would like to sleep, yes… But my desire to explore the City of Flowers far outweighs my exhaustion.

Rook: Fufu, what a coincidence. I've also sprung forth from the confines of my room in order to fully savor this beautiful cityscape.

Rook: What say you? Why not sightsee together, since we've just so happened to meet like this?

Azul: With you, Rook-san…? Hm. I suppose I'm likely to gain some new insight that I would not have gleaned on my own.

Azul: I'm honored by your invitation. I will gladly join you.

[City of Flowers – Topsy-Turvy Event Hall]

Azul: Despite the fiasco with the Crimson Lotuses, it seems the festival decorations are still up.

Azul: It does look as if we will be able to take in the buildings and scenery now that there aren't as many people around like yesterday.

Rook: It's as you say, Azul-kun. …See, look up.

Azul: Up…?

Azul: Ah. There are some carvings engraved onto the building roofs and even the tops of some pillars.

Azul: Hm…? What is that stone statue there… There seems to be two… no, three faces on its body.

Rook: That is a sculpture of the Kind-Hearted Youth, and his friends. You should take a closer look.

Azul: The Kind-Hearted Youth, and his friends…?

Azul: You're right. When I look closer, several people are clustered together to make a single silhouette of a young woman.

Azul: This one here is the Youth, and this lady was his friend. This other face is some sort of animal… Perhaps a goat?

Rook: Trés Bien! You know your stuff, Azul-kun.

Azul: I suspected as much. I couldn't very well make it out just from looking at it, but…

Azul: The locals here in the City of Flowers take pride in their goats. So I thought it could be…

Azul: However, I'm curious what theme they had in mind when creating this statue. The pose is quite comical, and yet their expressions are very serious…

Rook: Apparently, this figure was made to recreate a well-known incident.

Rook: In an effort to escape from the gaze of some villain, they pretended to be stone statues in perfect sync… Or so this work of art is attempting to portray.

Azul: Ah, I see… When you say it that way, I suppose they do have more of a tense expression on their faces.

Azul: It does seem as though the impression one can glean from this work of art deeply depends on whether you know of this incident taking place or not.

Azul: If you don't mind, Rook-san, may I ask you to teach me more of what you know?

Rook: Fufu, you do know how to fill me with joy. Then, I suppose I shall bring you to this one place I highly recommend.

Azul: Yes, please! Tell me, what is this place you will be taking me?

Rook: You'll see once we get there. Do not worry, I promise you will have a grand time.

Part 1 (Part 2) (Part 3)

Requested by @pianostarinwonderland.

[acsy]

Idk whether it's because I'm attracted to men or if there's gen a problem with hsr women, but so far all my favorite characters are males and idk this just feels odd.

Like so far all the unhinged female characters have some elements that just ick me a bit and thus unable to like them (sparkle), or they're genuinely interesting characters but they're just so...passive (Ruan mei), or they're like so fanservicie in a "mommy" way which like, i don't mind but i don't like (kafka), or I just don't like them straight up.

Like I guess some close seconds are Stelle and Herta but that's it, and since we only have doll herta so far I'm not THAT invested yet (waiting for 5 star herta).

They have so many cool female characters, but none of them are to my taste, I like unhinged women with sass and the only one who does that without that "ooo mommy step on me" voice or attitude is Herta, like please I was kinda looking forward to jade but her demeanor is so... idk, I liked her concept, her lines and behavior I find interesting too, but the way she plays them and her design? Just tick me off. Same for sparkle she seemed so fun until she wasn't, she kinda just fell flat on her face after giving out the buttons and became irrelevant, idk I like Sampo because despite being unhinged in a funny kinda crooked businessy man way, he still is pretty tame compared to the rest of the masked fools and I'm curious about his past. Sparkle kinda just feels like they wanted to make a character with glamorized schizophrenia without giving her schizophrenia, and then just over played her role at the Start before forgetting her.

Sunday is a very interesting character, ratio too, they both have this overlap between behavior, belief and ideal in different ways and I like that, they have depth beyond surface level behavior. But most female characters just give everything away as they speak to you, you don't find out more and go "wooow" like I did when I found out about boothill's backstory, and even when they expose everything in the story like for Sunday it was "show don't tell", we got flashbacks, a fight scene, some dope monologues, tension building. And idk, I suppose I'm just picky.

Argentie is just funny tbh, head empty just beauty, but with the recent reveal of his backstory and the friend monster ordeal, he's starting to grow on me, especially because of how enigmatic the knights of beauty are we only met one and when he did he was rizzing up a plant before diving into nihility to pop out a few people like it was nothing.

I want a woman who seems just as simple minded as Argentie, no thoughts just Idrilla, but without any mommy or eeby hibbie uwu quiet vibes I'm so sick of cool women having such lackluster speech and behavior.

Give me unhinged herta, just more herta lore I'm starving.

Topaz is probably the closest to my fav type of character but she isn't unhinged enough :(

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios Adventures

A great mountain range. Buildings that were easily centuries old. The long, cold reach of the Void. Adam could see it all as easily as if it were standing in front of him. He didn't seem to have a choice whether he wanted to see these images or not. They were darkness and beauty, strength and fear, each seared into his brain with one word tying them all together.

Theo.

"So hey, sorry if I'm interrupting your private moping time. Dad wanted me to check on you. I don't see the point since it's basically been a prison here since You-know-who left. What trouble could you possibly be causing? I think this is the first time in a week that I've actually seen you out of your pajamas."

Remy didn't even bother knocking on the door of the gardens. Adam had locked himself inside them for the past week, attempting to meditate or something equally as pointless. Mediation wouldn't heal her brother or make him talk to her about what had happened between him and Theo. She was his twin sister, though, and that made it her duty to get him back to the person he'd been before the incident. At the very least, she would get him out of this one room and socializing again.

"You can say his name, Remy. Theo is my boyfriend...or he was." He paused to consider his words carefully. "I don't know. Either way, saying his name isn't going to break me like Mom seems to think it will.

Says the guy hiding away from everyone to "meditate."

"I know I'm not Mom's biggest fan, but she might have a point," Remy said cautiously. "You seem...twitchy whenever he comes up. Have you heard from him at all?"

"Of course I haven't," Adam snapped, louder than he meant to reply. "Mom took our phones, remember? Wherever they sent him, I can't send any magical messages either. It's like he just disappeared off the face of the earth! I don't even know where to start looking for him."

"Do you want to find him?" Remy asked quietly, truly curious about the answer. "It's okay if you don't. I'd understand. No judgment here. With your condition, I'd be pissed too."

"My condition," Adam repeated bitterly. "You don't even know the half of it. No one does."

"Does Theo? Mom threw a fit about you two being connected, and I'm guessing that that's why things got so bad when everything happened. Can't you just sense him?"

"No, that's the problem," Adam sighed. "No matter how hard I try, he's just...gone. It's not like we were connected strongly or anything like that, but I should be able to feel something about where he is. Instead, there's just silence."

He's lying. I don't know about what, but he's lying. He's easier to read than a book. But he's lying for a reason. If I don't press it, maybe he'll tell me in his own time.

"Hey, he'll come back," Remy promised, hugging her brother tightly. "Whether I have to track him down for you myself. Elowen and I will have him back in an afternoon."

"Yeah, thanks. I don't think I'll need you two though."

"So you two are over," Remy gasped, trying to remain playful before he shut down again. "There are lots of other people here who would be happy to date you. Some of which, Mom might actually approve of."

"We're not over!" Adam snapped. "Not officially. We'd have to have a conversation for that to happen, and no one will tell me where he is!"

Remy rolled her eyes and grabbed her brother's hand, dragging him with her to the ground. He tried to wriggle away from her, but Remy was stronger.

"Nope. We're having twin time now," she insisted. "Just like when we were kids. You and I are going to talk this out. I'm sick of your moodiness, and I can't tell if I'm supposed to be rooting for Theo to come back or if I should be setting him on fire for hurting you. So spill."

"We're not little kids anymore. Just leave me alone."

"Not going to happen. If you won't talk to me, then I'm going to be forced to call Elowen and Bronwen in as reinforcement. I'm sure you can remember how powerful your sisters are when we fight together."

"How can I forget?" Adam groaned. "If Theo wasn't so strong, you three would have made my life miserable." He smiled fondly before he caught himself. It was hard to separate his childhood memories from thoughts of Theo. They'd been friends since Theo started at the academy and had been inseparable for years. There was no way of thinking about his past without being reminded of Theo. He just wasn't sure if his future would be the same way.

"Look, it's complicated," Adam said at last. "I love Theo, but...people have been warning me about him for awhile now. He's this kind, funny, loyal person who loves me with the intensity of the sun. But he's also a dangerous, reckless being with so much power that deities monitor him. I love him, but he's like fire. The closer I get to him, the more I get burned. I just don't want to get burned again, Remy. I don't want to hold him back from his potential either, though. He can do things I've never seen someone do and with ease. He might be better off without me."

"If you love him, it shouldn't matter," Remy insisted. "You've known for forever about Theo being unstable and you've never cared before."

"I never thought he'd hurt me like this before!" Adam snapped angrily. "He promised me that he'd protect me, not scar my face and leave me for dead."

Remy paused, unsure of what to say.

"I was there when everything happened, Adam. I saw the look on his face. He was desperate to save you. I mean, the two of you are usually nauseatingly cute together, but this was different. He was going against his own self interests to protect you, Adam. It tore him apart and he still did it. They dragged Theo out of here on a stretcher just like you, and he's not complaining. All he did was ask for you."

"I know, I know. That's what everyone says, but...maybe our love isn't a good idea like Mom says."

"What?! Who are you Mr. I'm Planning My Wedding at Nineteen? Did Mom bewitch you with one of her spells, or did you really hit your head that hard when you fell?"

"It's not like that," Adam mumbled quietly. "It's just common sense. You know that Theo and I have...been intimate lately?" He continued when Remy nodded. "This whole thing stems from that. Theo can't handle the emotions or the increased connection between us. He went off because of me, because of my desire to be close to him. I'm too dangerous for him and he's too dangerous for me. We just end up hurting each other."

"Hmm, fair," Remy conceded. "That makes some kind of sense. I've never had that problem, but I do tend to stay away from demons. Too much drama involved."

"He...he changed me, Remy," Adam admitted quietly.

"Well, yeah, you've been friends forever, of course you're going to change each other's lives."

"No, I mean that he changed me. That day. Why do you think that I spend most of my time here, trying to meditate? It's not for fun."

"I don't know what you're talking about. No one does when you're that cryptic. If you're going to break up with Theo, then you should at least come hang out with some of my friends. Get out there, see what the world outside of Theo looks like before you make your decision."

"I'm not sure if I want to break up with him. I just need some time. I want him to know what he's done and I need to know how he feels too. I want him to see this and ask him what he's going to do about it."

Adam gestured to his cheek, where a dark scar remained. Remy had helped her father try to reduce the supernatural scarring on Adam's face, but a corner of it refused to leave. His eyes were still red and bloodshot from the spell that had twisted the small amount of demonic DNA in his system.

"A deity told me that we have demon ancestors," he continued. "That Mom's side of the family came from Pleasantview demons."

"That's the first I'm hearing about this. Though it does make sense that Mom is slightly demonic. It explains some things." When Adam didn't laugh at her joke, Remy scowled. "Where on earth did you run into a god? Don't they have anything better to do than spill family secrets?"

"She was warning me about Theo. I...I think when the incident happened, our connection latched on to any dormant demon genes I have and went crazy trying to give him their power. I don't have a dark form, Remy, but Theo's energy twisted me into something that looked like one. They had to fix my skull with magic. They had to fix my skull, Remy. Our connection tore demonic energy I barely had and gave it to Theo. It scraped everything I had and...and he just took it."

"That's not something Theo did purposely though," Remy said softly. "He can't control himself. That's why they sent him away to demon boot camp. He would never choose to hurt you, that should be obvious."

"What if I can never sleep with him again?" Adam demanded, his voice betraying how close to sobbing he truly was. "What if even kissing him makes...makes all of that happen again? I can't trust that it won't happen again. He sometimes goes off without any obvious trigger, how will I know how to avoid it? If being with me makes Theo lose control of himself, then I don't think I can take that risk anymore. Next time I might die."

Remy kicked her brother in his shin, making him yelp.

"He's going to boot camp, Adam. When he does come back, he's going to know how to control himself. Do you really think Mom and Dad are going to let him come back here if there's a chance that you'll be in danger? No way. You're being stupid. Give me some time, I'll find a way to talk to your dumb boyfriend and get this sorted out. Life's too short to mope over something that can be changed."

"The scar's not the only change," Adam insisted, still looking like he was about to cry at any second. "The meditations are supposed to be controlling this." He flicked his wrist, releasing a purple haze that oozed from his skin. "Let me show you something."

Without another word, Adam rose from his seat on the floor and gestured for his twin to follow him.

"Well, this should be good."

Adam's pace was slow, but determined. There was still some physical damage from the incident that was slowly healing and Remy noticed that her brother was limping slightly. If it did turn out that Theo had caused all of this on on purpose, there was going to be hell to pay.

But it was an accident, she reminded herself, taking a deep breath to let go of the anger. Theo was just too dumb to handle a Darktide in the bedroom, like so many of Remy's past hookups.

He's just an idiot with no self-control. He didn't do this on purpose. You don't have to murder him for touching your brother.

"Are you okay with walking this far? I can teleport you wherever we're going."

"I'm fine. We're here anyway." He gestured to the expensive telescope that students used to calculate moon phases and chart astrology. "Watch that telescope."

"For what? It's just sitting there. Are you sure you don't want me to get a chair for you or something? Should I get Dad?"

"Dad already knows about this," Adam replied, intensifying his stare at the telescope and holding his hands in a magical stance. "You can't tell anyone else about this, Dad's trying to find someone to help with this, but people wouldn't understand if they saw what happened to me."

He flicked his hand again, and released more of that purple haze as he did so. When he moved his arm, Remy could see the telescope shimmer slightly, and then immediately surrender itself to a sudden rip in the atmosphere. The Void consumed the light around the object, wrapping itself around it so tightly that the two seemed fused together.

"Oh my god, Adam! You've actually become interesting!"

"Thanks," Adam replied angrily. "I'd like to think that I already was interesting before all of this."

Remy scoffed, still staring at the flashing telescope with wonder.

"So you can what? Attack people with the Void? Open portals just like Theo?"

Adam shrugged, flicking his wrist again as he did. Immediately, the tear in the atmosphere reappeared and began to rip the pieces of Void from the the telescope. Within a blink of an eye, the telescope was back to its old appearance, completely Void free.

"I don't know what it is," Adam confessed. "Dad thinks that Theo regenerated some of my DNA to work like a demon's would. Between trying to force a dark form and being able to touch the Void, my body is different now. It responds like a really weak demon hybrid might. A really weak hybrid. I can't do half the things an infant hybrid could, but-"

"But you're more resistant to Theo's demonic magic, just like you both wanted," Remy guessed. "You don't have a lot of cool powers from this, but you should be able to handle more demonic energy than before. You can help ground him if he goes off in the future. Maybe it could keep Theo grounded and balanced when you two are in the bedroom."

"Remy, stop!" Adam shouted. "I don't want to be changed so that I can make Theo feel better about himself or be his backup plan when he's about to have an incident. I want to be me, just like I was! I love a hybrid, but I don't want to become the pale shadow of one. I don't exist to make Theo's life easier."

"Okay, fair," Remy conceded. "But do you know what I could do with that much power? Lots of fun things."

"I also don't exist to make your life interesting, Rem. God only knows what you would do with access to the Void. Probably end up in the same place as Theo."

Remy laughed at the thought.

"Yeah, probably. Maybe that's how I'll find him for you. I'll get Mom to send me to demon military school."

Adam's knee buckled from standing too long and his sister rushed to his side even as he was pushing her away.

"Okay, well I think that's enough demon magic for today," she declared. "Now that you're out of your moping room, let's get you something to eat. You can't say no when you're leaning on me to walk."

Adam scowled, but didn't resist. He was a little hungry and it would be a welcome change from ruminating on what had happened all day like he'd been doing lately.

"Okay, fine. You win."

[azures-bazar]

Gang members (Arthur, Sadie, Charles and Mary Beth) reacting to their fem S/O who is Turkish. How they react to her language, culture, beautiful olive skin and brown curly hair, golden honey eyes and teaching them about her culture (food, music, arts, belly dance, etc) and she shares her culture and language with the rest of the gang aswell! Also how they would defend her if anyone was ever racist towards her! 🥹❤️✨🥰

Headcanon - Turkish Beauty - Female!Reader

Hey there sweetie ! Thank you again for your request ! + Javier ! 💖

I'm sooooo sorry if it took me so long ! As you know, my life now mostly consists in my job lol (and in the family I'm currently building).

This headcanon was hard to write since I know very little about Turkish Culture in general. At least I tried, any corrections are welcomed !

I tried making it as accurate as possible (but ended up creating a rather weird mixture between Turkey and Ottoman Empire, since it's supposed to be 1899 lol). If anything is offensive towards the Turkish culture, just let me know and I'll either edit my mistakes or completely delete the headcanon !

Request : Female!Reader

Characters : Arthur Morgan, Sadie Adler, Charles Smith, Mary-Beth Gaskill + Javier Escuella

Relationship : Romantic, settled

Lines : About 9 per character

A/N : The Reader is Agnostic !

Arthur Morgan : 

Let’s be honest : Arthur doesn’t know much about what is outside America (and perhaps Tahiti). When you tell them you’re Turkish, he is a little confused. "Wait up, ain’t Turkey a large bird ?" is the very first genuine question he asks when you talk about your country. After you explain him a few basics, he profusely apologises for his mistake, telling you his just a "dumb cowpoke", which he isn’t. He’s just clumsy.

You wear a nazar as a necklace. Arthur is curious, often asking you about the meaning of this beautiful eye-shaped pendant, staring at its dark blue, white, light blue and black colours. When you explain its use, Arthur is even more curious, asking you if he can have one for himself. "Maybe a nazar can be a lucky charm for me too, so the Pinkertons won’t ever find us !". 

On some occasions, you can be heard talking to yourself in Turkish, either when you think out loud or when you’re a little pissed with folks like Micah or Bill. Arthur doesn’t show it, but he’s thrilled when he hears you talk in Turkish, finding it beautiful. As he often says, he can barely speak English, but he still tries his best to learn a few words while listening to you !

Believe it or not, but Arthur knows how to count up to ten in Turkish. He made this surprise to you while the two of you were in his tent after a long day on guard duty. "Hey, listen to that, bir, iki, üç, dört…". You were so amazed by it, listening to his raspy voice and heavy Southern accent when he tried his best not to mess up ! When you asked him how he learnt how to count in Turkish, he just told you he has his own "sources".

Yes, he indeed went through your belongings to snatch a book written in Turkish. Still, how he managed to translate Turkish words into English is an absolute mystery even Arthur himself can’t really explain. He isn’t as dumb as he believes he is, him trying his best to learn a few words in your language is a proof of his hidden intelligence. 

At some point, you tried your best teaching Arthur to say a few basic sentences, such as "benim adım Arthur". Your favourite Van der Linde boy struggled a lot, but was indeed thrilled to make you even a little happy. Arthur is not as fast as John when it comes to learn things, but he is definitely devoted to whatever he does. And your proud gaze is absolutely worth any single grammar mistake (which might also be heard as a potential ancient invocation due to his mispronunciation) he would make. 

In case you’re being harassed by anyone, Arthur is very quick to jump in and defend you from all these folks causing you harm. Since it’s the United States in 1899, many folks are just blatantly racist. If you’re a few feet away from him, he will proceed walking towards you and wrap his arm around your shoulders. "Get away from my girl, I doubt ya wanna have a hole in your head, partner." is what he often says to calm things down. If it doesn’t, the situation ends up in a fist fight which often results in the two of you having to run away because Arthur "unexpectedly broke someone’s skull". 

Arthur is absolutely in love with your looks. Each time the sun shines on your face while you’re both around camp, he will proceed caressing your olive skin. And when your golden eyes meet his, he nearly faints due to your exquisite beauty. Your eye color is so unique that he can’t avoid blushing a little whenever you’re looking at him. A few pages of his journal are dedicated to you, as well as some drawings. He loves describing your golden eyes in his journal, comparing them to the sun. You are the light of his life, literally speaking. 

Each night, Arthur runs his fingers through your thick brown curls, slightly brushing them away from your beautiful face. You’re one of the most beautiful women he had the opportunity to meet, and your natural beauty made him fall in love with you on the day Dutch had brought you to camp. But don’t worry ! You’re so beautiful that he falls in love with you every day, even if he’s too proud to say it.

Sadie Adler : 

For some reason, Sadie somewhat knows more about the world’s geography than the rest of the gang. She can’t forcibly place countries on a map, wherever they are republics, kingdoms or empires, but can actually tell that there is a huge continent across the Atlantic Ocean. So, when you tell her you’re from beyond the ocean, Sadie is indeed quite curious ! 

Sadie loves listening to you when you’re talking about your culture. She just sits there with starry eyes, gazing at you whenever you talk about its traditions. She is indeed fascinated by it, it feels so mystical compared with the life the Van der Linde gang is currently living. Having you tell stories about your country or about your culture and beliefs is certainly much better than Dutch’s speeches about freedom and MONEY.

She is pretty much your personal bodyguard whenever you’re alone. She knows you know how to fight, but she just loves you so much… and even ends up wanting to know more about Turkish fighting techniques. "How do folks fight in your country ? Like us ? Or do they still use swords ?". Her question seems pretty innocent for a woman who went through so much, but you don’t mind. 

You eventually end up telling Sadie about the Ottoman Slap, which is one of the Ottoman martial arts. "I wanna try it, I wanna try it !" is the very first thing an excited Sadie tells you when you explain her that it implies using her hands. You don’t even have time to explain anything to her that she is already on her way to give Micah an absolutely massive slap.

Sadie loves being around you when you do to town, and is quite protective towards you for a variety of reasons she can’t even explain. So, when she hears a few folks criticise your looks, your skin or your clothes, if not even your origins, she is quick to get into a violent fight and, quite often, wins it. Sadie even tries doing the exact same Ottoman Slap you told her about, but is likely to take out her guns to finish a fight if the situation goes worse. 

You two have fun altering Mr. Pearson’s stew with a few ingredients which match the Turkish recipes you have collected in one of your books upon traveling to the United States. Sadie loves the Tavok Sote, which is a Turkish chicken stew, and is even willing to chop vegetables for you, something she wouldn’t have done for anyone else. She just wants to spend all her free time with you, even if, as she says… she "ain’t gonna chop vegetables for a living". 

Sometimes, when she is on guard duty, Sadie will just slightly turn her head and look at your for a few seconds, analysing your beauty. Your black hair is often beautifully tied in a braid, your nazar bracelet hangs on your wrist, your colourful dresses make you look divine. She loves you, and if you pass by her while she is on guard duty, she will gently stroke your chin. "Here’s my beautiful balım." she would say before dropping a kiss on your lips.

At some point, after you told Sadie about belly dance, she is excited to learn it from you ! The very first time she tries it, she laughs as the feeling it gives her. She is not used to it, but absolutely loves it ! You like seeing her so happy to try new things, and can’t deny you did not expect her to enjoy belly-dancing this much ! She isn’t really good yet, but she really tries her best to impress you ! 

Sadie tries really, REALLY hard to learn a few words in Turkish. She already knows how to say some sweet words, like "balım" or "güzelim", and… a little set of swearwords. In fact, whenever you swear in Turkish, you can hear Sadie repeat the word after you, even if you told her you would rather want her not to say any swearwords in a foreign language. 

Charles Smith : 

Charles is well aware about the countries surrounding the United States, such as Mexico and Canada, and knows a little about Europe due to him listening to Herr Strauss. He is very respectful towards you and asks a few questions he repeated to himself a few times. Charles doesn’t talk much, and each word he says are filled with a wisdom a very few 28 year olds have. Needless to say that, compared with John who is just two years younger and eager to ask foolish questions, Charles just thinks twice before saying anything.

Charles is, again, the quiet type, except when he is drunk or around Javier and Arthur at the saloon. And he is even more quiet whenever you’re talking about your culture by the fire. He just gazes at you with starry eyes, interested and fascinated by your country's customs and traditions. Charles doesn’t interrupt you, he doesn’t want to spoil your stories with his questions. He will have all the time he needs to ask them after you will finish. 

If he is on guard duty with you, there is a huge chance that Charles will likely end up asking you some details about your country. "What do Turkish people eat ? How do they fight ? How do they talk to each other ?". He is curious, and just wants to be around you, and only around you, to ask his questions. Even if he only answers with a soft smile whenever you answer him, he is so thrilled to learn new things. 

The simple presence of Charles near you is quick to make people shut their mouths whenever they want to insult you. Charles, being himself a man of colour, as the son of a Native American woman and an African American man, knows what it feels like to be downgraded due to the colour of his skin, especially in 1899. If he sees anyone offend you, he will just stand before you and calmly tell people of. "Please, leave this lady alone.". If it doesn’t work, after a few good punches, he will take you to someplace safe, apologising for all the mess he is not even the responsible of. 

When he has the opportunity to rest, which is often rare since he is one of Dutch’s strongest men, Charles just enjoys gazing at you. He loves the way you look, the way your beautiful hair flows around you whenever you make even a subtle movement. But what Charles loves the most about you is your voice, and how beautiful it sounds whenever you speak to yourself in Turkish. 

Charles doesn’t speak much, but he secretly mumbles each word you say in Turkish, and sometimes asks you what you just said means. He then proceeds repeating the same word once again. "Did I say it right ?" is the question he asks you the most whenever he tries talking to you in Turkish. He does his best, and it's a beautiful thing to watch. His smile in the end is worth it ! 

Like many folks, Charles is not indifferent to your golden eyes. Whenever you’re close to him, even if it’s already clear that the two of you are in a very stable relationship, his heart beats faster and his eyes twitch a little, he even blushes and stutters at times ! You, Y/N, are the only person who can make Charles Smith loose his words whenever he is around you ! Charles even commented your eyes more than once. "So your parents put all the gold of the world in these eyes of yours.". That’s quite a compliment ! 

You managed to bring up a Hookah with you, and a lot of gang members often ask you if they can use it. Charles was very curious to try it at first, especially knowing that you can sometimes combine the effects of tobacco with other plants. You made him try a mixture of regular tobacco with vanilla flowers, and Charles surprisingly loved it. "Damn. I like it. I like it !". It was probably the very first time you saw Charles so happy ! 

Charles loves laying next to you whenever people are already asleep or far enough from him, his head either on your thigh or on your shoulder. He knows that you will naturally start singing. You can’t resist singing a few beautiful Turkish songs you know, especially with Charles being so close to you. "It’s beautiful, breathtaking." he often tells you between two songs. 

Mary-Beth Gaskill : 

Mary-Beth is quite aware of where Turkey is located, having red so many books about everything, and not only romance books as Ms. Grimshaw often says. She is thrilled to meet anyone who is not from the United States or from America in general, apart from Herr Strauss, indeed. But a woman like you is more interesting than an old loanshark ! 

You tried making a lentil soup based on what Mr. Pearson had in stock, and it made Miss Gaskill happy. "It’s peculiar and so different from Pearson’s stew ! How did you manage to do it ?" she asked. Mary-Beth barely knows how to cook, but is interested by your Turkish cookbook you brought with you upon being inducted into the gang. 

Sometimes, Mary-Beth daydreams while listening to your stories about your country. She just pictures so many people wearing bright colours, women doing bellydances while men are trained to fight. Mary-Beth is quite a romantic and re-interprets your stories inside her head, but genuinely likes asking questions about your culture. "What does a Turkish marriage look like ?". You try your best to answer, making Mary-Beth’s eyes get filled with stars. 

When the two of you are in town, you often get a side-look from passerby because of your origins. Mary-Beth is eager to fight for you, quickly taking your defence if someone tells you something inappropriate. Even if she knows how to fight, the two of you most likely end up in trouble if many folks try attacking you. But Mary-Beth is courageous enough to defend you, telling people off and throwing a few more or less impactful punches if needed. You two can’t even count the number of times you ended up at the Sheriff’s Office after a fight, having Dutch, Hosea or Arthur bring you back to camp. But a good fight was worth saving your honour. 

Even if you told her about henna and its use on very specific occasions, Mary-Beth is eager to try some on herself, on Tilly or on Karen, and even on Arthur who just grumbles when he sees her drawing figures on his wrists when he’s around camp. She doesn’t care about the fact that henna figures she made on herself is a temporary tattoo, she just loves it so much and is very skilled !

Mary-Beth loves reading, and it’s no secret for anyone. So when she genuinely asks you if she can borrow one of your books and read some pages out loud, you can’t say no. You just love listening to her when she tries her best to read some Turkish words properly with her sweet voice and adorable accent, and she loves the way you look at her and how proud you are whenever she tries either reading something out loud, or talking in your language. 

She likes asking you if she can borrow your dresses. Her favourite is a traditional Turkish gown you brought from your country, white and red coloured, with a matching headscarf. Mary-Beth loves it and often likes putting it on whenever she knows you will be around camp. She respectfully wears it and twirls around with it, thrilled to wear something as beautiful as a traditional Turkish gown. She sometimes digs into your jewerly, but you don't mind much.

When you told Mary-Beth about belly dancing, she was eager to give it a try ! Despite she did not know much about this dance or about the moves, looking a little uncomfortable while trying her best, she just gave you a rather nice performance, which was both funny and adorable. You fell for her as much as she fell for you. Between two moves, she even got to stroke your olive skin while blushing, which made you love her even more than ever !

She loves brushing your hair. It’s so thick and beautiful, she loves running her fingers through it, or combing it to create the most perfect hairstyles which could fit you on a daily basis. Mary-Beth loves you enough to compliment you anytime she tries something new on you. After all, you’re so beautiful ! So, mesmerising ! She keeps reminding this to you almost three or for times a day ! And this even in bed…

Javier Escuella : 

Javier is definitely smart enough to say that Turkey is a part of the Ottoman Empire as of 1899. He is genuinely curious about everything, and loves asking you so many questions that you sometimes end up struggling to find a correct answer. "What are your people doing when they’re angry ? How tall is the Ottoman Empire ? Are all Turkish women as beautiful as you are ? What music do they play ? Do they believe in god ?". Many questions, too many. 

You don’t know how he managed to do this, but Javier has, very soon after you were inducted into the gang, tried talking to you in Turkish. Since he already speaks English and Spanish, he is willing to learn another language, just for you ! Javier tries his best, he really does. He even repeats the words after you whenever you correct him, and often compliments your language. "Ah, Turkish language is quite beautiful, mi amor ! Hard, but wonderful !". 

Privately, between two trees, while the rest of the gang was having fun by the fire, you showed Javier how you belly danced. He is absolutely not familiar to it, but spends his time gazing at your moves, at the way you shake your hips, the way you twirl at times. He loves it, and even ends up asking you if men can try doing it too ! He is genuinely interested, which is a pleasure to see ! 

Javier is often lost into his deepest thoughts when looking at you. Your golden eyes make him loose every word, even his most romantic ballads can’t express how smitten he is to you. He often tried singing about it, playing his guitar by the campfire, but nothing can describe the "hermosa chica de ojos dorados." that crossed his and the rest of the gang’s path. 

Whenever you’re out, Javier doesn’t let go of you, not even for a second. Sometimes the two of you get side-looks from people seeing two non-white people just enjoying their day in 1899. Javier doesn’t usually jump into fights and tries his best to tell people off. However, sometimes, random folks don’t cooperate, and it ends up in a brutal fistfight. "You won’t ever insult my girl again, puto !" Javier usually says when his opponent is either unconscious, or dead. He won’t let anyone insult you. Never ! 

When you joined the gang, you had a few belongings coming from your country, among which a few musical instruments such as an Oud, a Kaval and a Sipsi. Javier taught himself to use the Oud, pretty proud of himself whenever a nice melody was coming out of it. "It’s as easy as playing a guitar, but the sound is so beautiful !" he always says whenever he plays it… when you don’t play it yourself. 

Sometimes, when you’re the one playing some Oud, you like singing a few ballads from your country. Javier loves listening to you, often getting distracted if he is on guard duty. Your voice is so beautiful, so mesmerising ! Enough for him to loose the track of time whenever he listens to you. He usually doesn't understand your songs, but genuinely loves them ! 

At some point, only to make you a rather nice surprise after you went back from a robbery with Dutch and Micah, Javier decided to sing a personal song just for you, playing the Oud, while Uncle played the Sipsi, and Lenny used a barrel as a drum to add some rhythm. Javier just wanted to make you happy, especially after a robbery with your absolute friend Micah Bell. "Look ! Look Y/N !" he had told you, so excited. The song was in Spanish, played with two Turkish instruments and a barrel as a drum, but it was awesome ! 

Sometimes, late at night, when the two of you are nearly asleep, Javier usually tries his best to mumble you some sweet words in Turkish, running his hand through your black curls while gazing at you with a loving smile. He just loves making you happy, and knows how excited you are whenever he tries speaking your language. "Seni seviyorum, mi chiquita.". A rather peculiar mixture between Spanish and Turkish, but very sweet !