#decorative metal profile

[isoart-eu]

Facade Renovation Project by ISOART - La Louvière, Belgium (2016)

ISOART undertook a renovation of the facade in La Louvière, Belgium, in 2016. This #project involved several stages: cleaning the old paint, repairing the cracks, applying the coating layer, installing profiles, applying a plaster reinforced with fiberglass mesh, and finally, applying the decorative plaster.

https://www.isoart.eu

The lateral facade posed significant challenges, with cracks and considerable level differences between the left and right sides, ranging from 5 to 8 cm. Applying the layered coating, reinforced with a #metal mesh, was essential to ensure #stability and aesthetics.

[tddyhyck]

has never went to oovoo javer

pairings ⇢ uber driver!hyuck x afab!reader

warnings ⇢ strangers???, protected sex (kinda), car sex, thigh riding, fingering, oral (m receiving/slight f receiving), voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation (f), mentions of being high, squirting, lip ring hyuck OFC, also big fat cock hyuck agenda, roleplay

word count ⇢ 4.1k

a/n ⇢ i dreamed this or something i swear, also thank u hua my bestie for letting me talk about this as always 🤭🤭

masterlist

you didn’t take uber’s often, usually opting for carpooling with friends or using public transport, but when you did you always got the same driver. he was pretty nice all of the times you met him, not bothering you with talking unless you started the conversation and even handing you candy after the third time you rode with him.

he was really attractive too, at least from the backseat and from his uber profile picture he seemed to update regularly. he had longish dark hair, plush rosy lips with a pretty silver lip ring, and he wore an insane amount of rings that suited him.

you always wondered if he had some sort of other job or if he was just an uber driver. he seemed like someone who would be in a band or work at a grocery store. there was noi-between. you were nosy but never wanted to pry since he was just your always uber driver.

today was different for you though you had left your friends late so you couldn’t take the bus and your friends were high just like you. so you got on your little uber app and waited to see who it was. it would almost be surprising if it wasn’t haechan, but his face popped up on the app and it made you a little giddy.

you could overthink and let your mind wander to why he was always picking you up and somehow always right around the corner but you didn’t. you liked seeing him with decorated fingers gripping the wheel while he played music you had said you liked.

so you bid your friends goodnight and hurried down the stairs to the front of the building. looking left and right to see if his familiar black suv was pulling up. you waited a minute rocking on your heels and shivering slightly when you finally saw him pulling up flipping his lights to get your attention. you scurry over to his car gripping the handle and sliding into the back seat and fixing your hair with your hands before looking up to see him staring back at you.

“hi,” you mumble, scanning his face to see his lip ring glinting in the car light.

“hi, pretty, how are you?” he responds, lips pulling into a slight smile. you don’t remember what ride he started calling you pretty on but it made you want to giggle and kick your feet.

“high and horny,” you blurt, making him throw his head back laughing. you cover your mouth quickly mortified at your confession. “fuck sorry.”

“you’re good, pretty, just don’t make a mess on my seats,” he winked before turning back around to face the front. you throw your head back to hit the headrest while heat floods your body. from both the embarrassment and the heat between your legs and his little comment didn’t help. you squeezed your legs together, the fabric of your dress riding up as you did.

the drive to your place was about 15 minutes and it was going to be complete and total torture but once you got home you could hole up in your room with a hand between your legs and release the pent-up feelings.

you had forgotten how getting high made your panties insanely wet and your body vibrate. but you remembered now staring at haechan who was tapping his ringed fingers on the steering wheel and letting his tongue swipe his lip before tugging on his lip ring with his teeth. you wondered how that would feel against your hot skin. the cool metal against your thighs while his head was between your legs teasing your cunt.

your legs pressed together again and gripped your knee with your hand. you didn’t realize a whimper had slipped out from your throat as your fingers drifted up your knee to raise the hem of your dress and make the skin of your thigh tingle.

you looked out the window hoping something could distract you from the ache between your legs and the hot guy in the front seat. you never felt his eyes floating to you through the rearview mirror, or the way he scanned you, watching the way your leg bounced and your dress rode up your soft thighs.

he could tell you weren’t being funny with your horny comment. you were on the edge of your seat needing to be touched. he wondered what you thought about maybe him touching you, fingers trailing over your skin making you twitch beneath him. now he was working himself up and letting his mind wander. he shook his head concentrating back on the road instead of your panties peeking out as the dress rose even more.

one little touch won’t hurt, right? just something to press against your pulsing core. you side-eye haechan to see him focusing on the road so you let your hand slide further up your leg. using your nondominant hand hopefully to deter you from flicking your wrist like you liked. each touch feels like something deeper and more intimate than normal, the slide of your fingers before they touch the fabric of your panties has your breath hitching.

the panties feel so soft and delicate and so damp and hot practically dripping in your arousal. your chest was almost heaving when you pressed your fingers against your center. you could feel your clit pulsing under your touch but the pressure of your digits wasn’t enough to relieve it.

haechan was still peeking back at you, gawking when your hand slipped between your legs as you leaned your forehead against the car window, your breath fogging the glass. he could feel his jeans growing tighter when you finally rocked your hips ever so slightly. he wanted to watch you, stare at you while you ground against your hand, but he was driving and he had to get you to your destination safely.

once you started moving you couldn’t stop yourself letting your hips do the work bucking perfectly against your fingers. the hot ache between your legs only felt like it was growing. chasing the relief you knew you would get when you just let yourself have it, legs shaking, the mind-numbing orgasm you craved. but you were in the back of haechan’s car so you stopped moving and huff against the window resting your forehead on the cool glass taking some of the heat from you.

taking a minute to breathe, moving your hand far away from between your legs you try to collect yourself. what the fuck were you doing? trying to get off in the back of an uber like a weird porn intro. then your mind started drifting to porn - no. focus. no dirty nasty porn brain.

“you good?” your eyes almost bulge out of your head. had he seen you? did he know you were getting freaky in his back seat?

“yeah just, yeah,” you mumble, still a little brain foggy. you look up to see him staring back at you in the rearview his eyes are darker but still as sweet as ever.

“your temp okay?” you nod knowing he can see you but still mutter a yes as your head lulls on the headrest.

“there’s a lot of traffic tonight, might take longer than normal,” he mentioned and you groan in response making him smirk to himself. it only made you want to cry. you can’t wait much longer you’re already trying to cum in the car and now there’s traffic. a cruel and unusual world to live in.

“it’ll be okay, baby, i’ll get you home safe,” he says, reaching his hand back to pat your knee. you felt like you were on fire from his pet name switching to baby and the skin-to-skin contact. you wanted him to slide his hand higher and touch you where you needed it.

you pout while you whimper mostly to yourself and grip the hem of your dress now suddenly aware of how it lays almost at your hip exposing so much skin. you don’t even recognize your hands lingering, smoothing over the fabric you relax into the feeling. closing your eyes leaning back and your hands move on their own.

it doesn’t even feel like your hands that are pulling your panties to the side letting the cool air hit your heat. your other hand finally making contact and making you sigh at the touch. your fingers swirling around your pulsing clit collecting the slick that's filled your panties. you can already feel yourself getting close, the touch finally providing what you need.

you don’t notice the boy in the driver's seat staring back at you through the mirror watching the way your face twists and mouth falls open as you flick your wrist. he’s almost drooling seeing your cunt glisten as you bring yourself closer. he watches closely but still flicks his eyes back to the road catching your hole flutter and begging to be filled.

he brings his hand to palm his jeans matching your timing, but he wants you. needs to feel you around him while he fills you up. he can only imagine the way you would wrap around him perfectly. but he can't, he really can't, you're his sweet little frequent rider who gives him the best reviews. but also you’re in his back seat cunt dripping onto his leather seats. what’s a man to do?

your hand isn’t enough so your hips start to buck against your fingers slipping and sliding against your clit and your hole. you want to slip your fingers inside and fill yourself but you need to be fast don’t savor the moment just get off.

suddenly you remember you aren’t so alone and you flutter your eyes open and see him staring back. it makes your breath hitch when you make eye contact through the mirror but you’re in too deep to stop. you almost want to go harder with how his dark eyes stare into you unapologetically looking down at your pussy.

“can you pull over,” you almost whimper and he looks back at you expression flipping between dark to concerned. wondering if you’re going to beat him up or if you want more like he does. but he doesn’t hesitate to go down a side road and find a parking lot for some privacy. he can see your fingers still moving in his peripheral vision.

when he finally pulls in and parks you waste no time unbuckling before leaning forward to tug his sweater and attach your lips to his. he doesn’t wait to reciprocate, pressing hungrily into you. his lips are just as soft as they looked at the cool metal of his piercing had your head spinning.

“is this okay?” you pull back breathing heavily and staring up at him.

“so much more than okay,” he responds, smirking over at you, and you smile back tugging his collar and making him scramble out of his seat clumsily crawling into the back with you making you laugh. you tug him to you again gripping the soft knit of his sweater as your lips find him again.

you push him to sit back but follow his lips keeping you attached to him before straddling his lap. the ripped denim covering his leg is pressing against your core and his hands are kneading your hips over your dress, but you want him closer. you grind into him and whimper into his mouth and his tongue chases your lips lapping up at them.

“more,” you whine and his hands grip your hips tighter, rocking you against his leg.

“so needy,” he breathes, sitting back to look at you with heavy eyes. your eyes are closed but you can feel him staring at you and each move you make. you lift the hem of your dress pulling it up to reveal your panties to him and the source of your moans.

he groans leaning forward to kiss your neck as his hands slide over your exposed flesh. fingers grazing under the waist of your panties, snapping them against your skin. his hands keep you from moving against him as fast as you want to and it’s frustrating but his tongue suckles your neck distracting you.

“slow down, pretty, let me make you feel good,” he whispers against your skin before blowing cool air against your neck, making you shiver.

“need more,” you whimper, but his hands slow you down before stopping you with a pout on your face. he smirks up at you before kissing your lips and turning to lay you back against the seat.

he presses against you, his body encompassing you and you feel him all around. one hand holding himself up on the seat and the other gripping your thigh fingers smoothing the skin as his lips desperately meet yours.

his lips mold to yours and you whimper against him opening your mouth to slip your tongue out sliding over his lips. he chases your tongue sucking it into his mouth. the sucking sounds filling his backseat as your saliva mixes and smears against your mouths. and you love it the messy and needy way he kisses you feels so raw and real.

your breathing is heavy in his mouth and so is his. he releases your lips letting his wet mouth roam down your face to your neck licking against the warm skin and your hands comb through his hair clinging to the strands. he's flipping your dress up again gripping higher on your thigh.

“touch me,” you whine, grabbing his wrist and moving it to graze your panties. you hear and feel him groan, vibrating against your neck making you shiver. he doesn’t hesitate to do what you say, gripping your panties and sliding them down before pulling away to fully remove them.

“fuck you’re soaked,” he moans lifting your soiled panties and swirling them around his finger to tease you.

“shut up,” you groan, covering your face with your hands but your lower half is still completely exposed to him.

“stop you’re fucking cute,” he pulls your hands away staring down at you. “can i keep these?” he smirks, nodding to the panties.

“only if you do something in the next 5 seconds,” you whine at him bucking your hips for something. he just coos down at you teasing your neediness, but he touches you, fingers pressing into your thighs dragging closer to your core. you don’t see him toss your panties into the front seat.

“you’re so fucking needy. can’t believe you were getting off in my backseat.” you mewl at his words you can’t deny it. “so fucking wet.” he whispers fingers touching your cunt and making you twitch. his fingers slide over you collecting the juices dripping out of you before bringing his fingers up in front of his face scissoring them curiously staring at the slick clinging to his digits and it only makes u more embarrassed.

“what’s got you shy? you weren’t shy earlier with your hand down your panties.” he teases before swirling his tongue around his fingers staring right at you while he does it. you try to avoid his eye contact as he tastes you on his digits.

“hmm? what is it, pretty?” you shake your head as he leans closer to you licking at your lips while his spit-covered fingers slip between you and find your core again. your mouth falls open when he uses a finger to fill you up. he watches you intently the way you try to close your mouth and bite your lip but he stops you licking over your mouth distracting you.

“don’t be quiet. let me hear you.” you nod harshly in response, moaning when his finger curls inside of you. you want more, you need more.

“more haechan, please,” you plead looking up at him and bucking your hips against him.

“huh? can't hear you.” you want to roll your eyes but you want him to fill you up more.

“more need more of you please.” you croak louder this time and he doesn’t waste time adding another finger making your legs tremble when his digits immediately curl inside of you. he leans back between your legs watching the way your cunt swallows his fingers. his hand that was holding him up is pressing your thigh backward showing you to him completely.

“so fucking pretty, take it so well yeah?” he coos staring down at you watching the way your mouth is open and fingers slide over your lips. his fingers are moving skillfully inside of you and his thumb swirls over your clit.

“is good. so good,” you manage breath caught in your throat you haven’t felt so good in so long. the pleasure taking over and swirling in your stomach tightening with each thrust.

“yeah, pretty? gonna cum huh?” his words make you cry so close to the edge. “tell me.”

“so close.” you whimper, grabbing his sleeve and tugging him to you. he’s sucking your neck instantly, keeping his hand thrusting into you.

“cum, pretty girl,” he says, and you can’t stop letting the knot in your stomach release as you do. arching into him as he works you through it, releasing on his hand and the seat beneath you. your legs close around him but he doesn’t stop until you're pulling on the hair at his nape.

he pulls away looking down between you dipping his fingers into the mess you made.

“you’re a squirter? cute,” you shake your head and want to melt into the seat. since when are you a squirter? “liar, you made such a mess.” he teases before leaning down to lick over your cunt.

“nuhuh, so much,” you whine, pushing his head away but he just smirks up at you, swirling his tongue lower to collect you on his tongue.

“you just taste so fucking good.”

“wanna taste you,” you say boldly leaning up and catching him off guard. your hands find their way to his belt fiddling with the leather.

“want to be inside you.” he counters, staring back at you gripping your wrist.

“please just-“ he cuts you off with a kiss and releases your wrist letting you unbuckle his belt and quickly tug his zipper. his lips are distracting you but you try to push him backwards to give you room to settle between his legs.

you take his clothed length in your hands and leave wet opened mouth kisses while looking at him to see his reactions. he’s staring down at you, one hand laying over his stomach and the other resting on his thigh. you sit back on your heels pulling his waistband down to let his cock slap against his stomach.

you don’t waste time leaning back down to take him in your mouth. he’s hot and heavy on your tongue and it makes you squeeze your legs together at the idea of him inside of you. you swirl your tongue and take the rest of him in your hands pumping his length.

“so pretty with my cock in your mouth,” he whispers, fingers pushing your hair out of your face mainly to see your eyes while you swallow around him. you push your head down to take even more of him hearing him groan and his fingers curl into your scalp.

“take me so well,” he moans, legs shaking beside your head when you moan around him. you want him to fuck your face but you decide not to ask maybe that’s too much for the back seat with your uber driver.

“fuck fuck fuck,” he says trying to push you off of him. you release him with a pop smiling up at him spit sliding down your chin.

“what?” you giggle at him using the back of your hand to swipe at the saliva.

“you’re a fucking minx,” he grins back before dragging you to him to kiss you again. he brings you close to him pulling you onto his lap you whine when you feel his cock against your folds.

“do you have protection?” he asks looking over at you.

“i’m clean but i have some,” you lean back, grabbing your long-forgotten bag.

“i’m clean too but,” he trails off when you lift the packet and tear it open. hurriedly you take it out and slide it down his length making him sigh.

“just fuck my brains out please,” you look at him with doe eyes before kissing him and lifting over his length before pressing it to your hole. you moan in unison as you sink down onto him, filling you up.

“so fucking tight,” he groans as his fingers dig into the skin of your hips. you’re speechless you feel so full and overwhelmed you can barely move just have him inside of you.

“you good?” he asks, grabbing your cheeks to look at him and you nod. “tell me.” he doesn’t demand this time asking softly for you to tell him how you feel.

“so good i can’t think. ‘m so full,” you whimper, falling into his chest and you can almost tell he’s smiling when he soothes over your back and coos at you.

“poor baby,” he coos, thrusting into you. “too much?” you whine and he bucks again. “can't take my fat cock can you?” you shake your head and he thrusts with each word punctuating it.

“ha- chan,” you mewl, lips pressing into his neck. he reaches around you holding you up as he lays you back again. his hair falls in his face as he leans over you thrusting into you deeply. he keeps his pace slow but steady, not letting you miss a single drag of his cock inside of you.

he kisses the side of your open mouth before sitting up between you moving his hands to press your thighs against your chest. he stared down at the way your cunt swallows his length with each thrust completely sucking him in.

“take me so fucking well,” he groans and you feel tears slipping down your face. “letting your little uber driver fuck you such a dirty whore.”

“hyuck,” you whine, slipping from the space.

“who?” he stops his movements staring down at you. you can see he’s trying not to break but his teasing eyes almost give him away.

“haechan, harder,” you whisper, he grins at you following your instructions. deepening each stroke and pushing you into the seat.

“like that, baby?” you nod sloppily and feel the familiar feeling coming back, the sweet release so close you can almost taste it. haechan notices bringing his finger to swirl around your clit.

“pretty baby, gonna cum on my cock?” he moans looking down at you.

“so close,” you whimper back, gripping his arm tighter. he moves his arm from your grasp to lock your fingers together as he plunges into you.

“gonna let your uber driver fuck you and have you a dirty mess in his backseat, huh? little slutty thing just fucking anyone.” his filthy words are all it takes to have you clenching tightly around him mumbling incoherently as you cum. he groans at the way your pussy squeezes around him and grips him so tight.

“cum on me,” you whisper to him, head still full of pleasure but you know he’s close to his own.

“so nasty.” he groans, his hand still holding yours and the other still grips your thigh, bruising the supple flesh. you slip your hand between you pulling the condom off in one motion just as he releases, coating your messy cunt with hot white cum. “fuck.”

he slides his cock against your cunt smearing his cum and letting it mix with yours as you both catch your breath. you look down between your legs watching him grinding his cock against your clit seeing the mess you’d made.

“you’re such a freak.” he chuckles looking up at you, catching you staring.

“shut up,” you whine trying to cover your face again but he doesn’t let you. gripping your wrists and kissing you tenderly.

“we gotta divulge in your little kinks more often baby. you’re so filthy.” you want to look away because it feels like he’s staring through you.

“you’re still my uber driver, remember?” you tease him.

“oh sorry miss, we’re definitely going to have a late arrival.”

“hyuck,” you whine trying to push him away.

“you slipped with that earlier baby, so cute.” he teases again, reaching over to the glove box to grab some napkins.

“it’s hard not calling you that. you’re my hyuck,” you pout at him.

“i know and you’re my filthy slutty whorish girlfriend,” he grins mischievously, but still diligently cleaning you both up.

“and so are you.”

“i’m keeping the panties by the way.”

“like you haven’t already stolen 10 other pairs.” you roll your eyes playfully.

“it’s because i’m disgustingly obsessed with you.”

©️ tddyhyck

[serpentface]

how do you come up with the ways cultures in your setting stylize people/animals/the world in general in their artwork, i.e. jewlery, rock carvings, statues, etc? Each culture in your world seems to have a very unique "art style" and I love it a lot - makes them seem that much more 'real'. This is something I struggle with a lot in my own worldbuilding and I'd love to pick your brain if possible 😁

I think a starting point is to have a research process based in the material realities of the culture you're designing for. Ask yourself questions like:

Where do they live? What's the climate/ecosystem(s) they are based in? What geographic features are present/absent?

What is their main subsistence method? (hunter gatherer, seasonal pastoralist, nomadic pastoralist, settled agriculturalist, a mix, etc)

What access to broader trade networks do they have and to whom? Are there foreign materials that will be easily accessible in trade and common in use, or valuable trade materials used sparingly in limited capacities?

Etc

And then do some research based on the answers, in order to get a sense of what materials they would have routine access to (ie dyes, metal, textiles, etc) and other possible variables that would shape how the art is made and what it's used for. This is just a foundational step and won't likely play much into designing a Style.

If you narrow these questions down very specifically, (ie in the context of the Korya post- grassland based mounted nomads, pastoralist and hunter-gatherer subsistence, access to wider trade networks and metals), you can direct your research to specific real world instances that fit this general idea. This is not to lift culturally specific concepts from the real world and slap them into your own setting, but to notice commonalities this lifestyle enforces - (ie in the previous example- mounted nomadic peoples are highly mobile and need to easily carry their wealth (often on clothing and tack) therefore small, elaborate decorative artwork that can easily be carried from place to place is a very likely feature)

For the details of the art itself, I come up with loose 'style guides' (usually just in my head) and go from there.

Here's some example questions for forming a style (some are more baseline than others)

Are geometric patterns favored? Organic patterns? Representative patterns (flowers, animals, stars, etc)? Abstract patterns?

Is there favored material(s)? Beads, bone, clay, metals, stones, etc.

When depicting people/animals, is realism favored? Heavy stylization? The emotional impression of an animal? Are key features accentuated?

How perspective typically executed? Does art attempt to capture 3d depth? Does it favor showing the whole body in 2 dimensions (ie much of Ancient Egyptian art, with the body shown in a mix of profile and forward facing perspective so all key attributes are shown)? Will limbs overlap? Are bodies shown static? In motion?

Does artwork of people attempt to beautify them? Does it favor the culture's conception of the ideal body?

Are there common visual motifs? Important symbols? Key subject matters?

What is the art used for? Are its functions aesthetic, tutelary, spiritual, magical? (Will often exist in combination, or have different examples for each purpose)

Who is represented? Is there interest in everyday people? Does art focus on glorifying warriors, heroes, kings?

Are there conventions for representing important figures? (IE gods/kings/etc being depicted larger than culturally lesser subjects)

Is there visual shorthand to depict objects/concepts that are difficult to execute with clarity (the sun, moon, water), or are invisible (wind, the soul), or have no physical component (speech)?

Etc

Deciding on answers to any of these questions will at least give you a unique baseline, and you can fill in the rest of the gaps and specify a style further until it is distinct. Many of these questions are not mutually exclusive, both in the sense of elements being combined (patterns with both geometric and organic elements) or a culture having multiple visual styles (3d art objects having unique features, religious artwork having its own conventions, etc).

Also when you're getting in depth, you should have cultural syncretism in mind. Cultures that routinely interact (whether this interaction is exchange or exploitation) inevitably exchange ideas, which can be especially visible in art. Doing research on how this synthesizing of ideas works in practice is very helpful- what is adopted or left out from an external influence, what is retained from an internal influence, what is unique to this synthesis, AND WHY. (I find Greco-Buddhist art really interesting, that's one of many such examples)

Looking at real world examples that fit your parameters can be helpful (ie if I've decided on geometric patterns in my 'style guide', I'll look at actual geometric patterns). And I strongly encourage trying to actually LEARN about what you're seeing. All art exists in a context, and having an understanding of how the context shapes art, how art does and doesn't relate to broader aspects of a society, etc, can help you when synthesizing your own.

[ryanseslow]

How to Create Paper Cut-Out Reliefs: Tips and Techniques for Beginners

Back again with another lil' series of 2D wall relief paper cut-out forms. Both of the pieces below follow the same process and technique. Im really happy with the process and outcomes. Im working on animating them as we speak. I'll add them to this post later. My paintings inspire my drawings, and my drawings are inspired by those same forms found in my paintings. It makes sense that every so often I want to make those forms "pop out" and off the surface of a flat plane. Alas, it all starts with a quick sketch. See below, just a series of light loose free flowing lines take the lead, forward ->

Here we have a dude posing for a profile style portrait. Most likely, this is inspired by the NYC B-Boys from the years 1983 - 87ish. Either way, it's nostalgia for me. Once the sketch feels good, I'll break out the paper and x-acto knife. I keep telling myself that one day Ill work with another material other than paper for these works, perhaps wood or metal.. It will happen, I can foresee it for sure, hang in there. Im using a white bristol paper for the cut outs, I believe it is the vellum type and not the glossy, but either or will work just fine. I love to cut paper and the whole medium of paper art in general.

Paper cut-outs, also known as paper cutting or Kirigami, is a traditional art form that involves cutting shapes and designs out of paper. The history of paper cutting can be traced back to ancient China and Japan, where it was practiced as a folk art. The Chinese and Japanese would create intricate designs, often featuring animals, plants, and mythical creatures, and use them as decorations for festivals and special occasions. I always loved it and have felt inspired by these pieces.

Using the sketch above, I apply the "map" of the shapes and forms that I see. Sometimes I redraw those forms on the paper that I will cut out, and sometimes I just "draw" with the x-acto knife to recreate the forms. Sometimes, it's a combination of both of those techniques. There is also a series of "out-take / byproduct" cut outs that do not make the final piece, those can be saved and used for the next piece, obviously!

I layer the forms on top of each other to compose the arrangement as a whole, its fun to watch it all come together, in the next phase, you will need some kind of durable tape or you can make little paper forms that can be pasted to both sides of the forms as they stack, this will create the gauge and depth of the piece once it is placed onto the wall.

This is the final composition above, I love it! I used a roll of duct tape to make small cylinder forms that connect the pieces together, the piece as a whole comes "off of the surface of the wall" by about 1.5 - 2" inches - you can play with this a bit but keep in mind, the tape makes the piece heavier and it will want to comply with gravity :)

I hung the piece (also temporarily adhered via the same duct tape) for the photoshoot and to also get a good look at how it will function on the wall. I have an old painted fire place in my studio that is a great surface for hanging things, I love the contrast of textures between the bricks and the paper, as you know, the shadows will be super cool to see too.

Once I had the whole piece constructed I took a few pictures of it. I immediately wanted a clean vector line drawing of the whole character. I brought the photo into adobe Fresco and used a vector brush to draw this lovely variation. This is how my brain works, I switch paths because I know they are really pipelines to the "next thing" that I will push this to, so forward we go.

Then, it was light source and photo shoot time. Im not really happy with these picture as traditional "photographs" as I know I can do a much better job, but, as a series of "sketches" for a planned photo shoot, these will really help to make those plans a reality. I love neon colored lights. I have a bunch of them from various places and spaces that I found on the internet. Amazon has a great selection of flashlights with various colored light options. Get a few and play around with how the light can effect your work and the shadows that it creates. This is where the depth and gauge of your pieces play a role. The photos below are also a part of the same session, which all took place over a few days.

Here is another variation with a different character.. What do you think? Shall I make more?

[animalstamp]

Skywings Ref

Horns:

Skywings’ horns are light and decorative. Because of this they will not often drill or carve into it like the other tribes.

They will be trimmed down if they are considered to be too heavy but back in the day large and cumbersome horns were a quality of the upper class. So much so that some would graft metal covers that would exaggerate their profile.

Wings:

Skywings have petaled wings that act like flight feathers. They are flexible and sharp along the edge. NO TOUCHING.

Instead of digits or talons along the wing they have a line of spurs that protect the bend of their wings.

Feathers:

Feathers are modified scales; they are strong and flexible like a sheet of thin metal.

Skywings often grow trains that can grow from three locations. It can grow from one or all three locations.

The length and quality of the trains is a sign of status and competence in combat if they are a warrior. Much like a lion’s mane or peacock’s tail, individual health plays a great part in the train’s appearance.

Criminals, lowlifes, orphans, and dragons in subservient positions often have their trains removed via clipping or yanking out. (ouch!)

If a dragon is in a higher social circle and does not grow trains in all locations might find it in them to add feathers. (These can be fabricated, from beloved family members, or trophies from rivals.)

Patterns:

Skywings vary less than the other tribes when it comes to colors, but they do have a number of interesting patterns.

Saturated colors are the sign of a more dominant individual. The brighter they are the better health, mood, and confidence. Or at least that is the general perception.

Each dragon has their own personal range of saturation. What might be considered a “bright” day to them might still look drab to another.

Red is considered the most desirable, especially at full saturation. Yellow and orange often tie in attractiveness. Brown isn’t very exciting but gives off the impression of being a stable if boring person. White is the wild card.

*Blue is exceedingly rare which only one documented individual that was truly blue. All other cases have be dye jobs.

Body Configuration:

Unlike the other tribes Skywings are exclusively bipedal. They never walk on their front talons thus keeping them extremely sharp.

While their hands are perfectly capable of holding things it’s not unusual for a Skywing to pick things up with their feet.

Skywings have unusual vents that resemble Seawings’ gills that they use to take in air without breathing thru their mouth or nostrils. These vents allow Skywings to breathe a continuous stream of fire hotter, farther, and longer than any other. No one is really sure how long a dragon can maintain the stream the longest record is 2 hours straight and only stopped out of boredom.

The vents can also expel fire, if rarely, to help flying and lift off. There is a skill to this, and it needs to be practiced with caution.

 

Extra:

Storm pattern appear to have correlations to a specific location.

Sky pattern is only uncommon, but the color blue is practically unheard of.

Skywings have shown an ability to change color within seconds, this is associated to levels of emotions. Anger and righteousness make the dragons more saturated, and fear and submissiveness make them duller.

Because of this correlation with brightness higher-class dragons are more saturated overall which causes a false assumption that brighter dragons are more qualified to rule and lead. (They just eat better, are more confident, and are more likely to anger.)

There's a myth that if two Hot Spots have eggs together, they will get a firescales dragonet.

There is a theory that Skywings were the first dragons that the other tribes descended from as they share traits with each tribe that are specific enough not to not shown in any other tribes. Example: Vents= Seawing gills, color change= Rainwing mimicry, etc.

[anundyingfidelity]

I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy (Part II)

Series summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader.

Word count: 2.5k.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Warnings on this chapter: Ben being a misogynist, talks about masturbation and porn, killing threats, Ben's POV in general is a red flag, death.

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

get yourself in the taglist!

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII

tags: @k-slla

GEN MASTERLIST! — SERIES MASTERLIST!

Part II: Silence is Peace

The next day arrived fast, and again, you found yourself walking ready to have a conversation with the supe locked in the facility. A part of you was surprised he didn't try to escape yet, but Ben, on the other hand, was just letting things flow at the moment.

The heavy, metal door opened to let you in. The supe caught by surprise seeing you coming inside full of confidence at this time in the morning. A couple of armed men in black uniforms followed behind as they settled down some furniture in the empty area of the room: two small sofas and a coffee table.

His arrogant self knew those guns wouldn't tear a single hair off of him, but hey, he understood you needed to feel safe. So meanwhile, he decided to play along. He remained still by the bathroom door as you came closer.

"I didn't request that," he said once you stood face to face.

"Oh, I know. I did, it's for your therapy," you smiled, tugging the bag on your shoulder. The armed men finished decorating the cell, and they left with a loud thud of the door being closed behind their backs. "There's been a small change of plans. I will come by every day for one hour. Anything you want you will ask me first and if I approve, then I will bring it to you."

He smirked. Like if he needed to be bossed around by a fucking woman, he thought. "You sure have the balls to stand up on me like that."

"Like I said, I want to help you," you replied, making your way and sitting down on a sofa. "Please," you requested him with a hand to do the same and he followed with curiosity. You put the bag on the coffee table, taking out a notebook, pens, a folder, and a small zip bag containing the only thing he asked from you the day before. You left his reefer on the coffee table, putting the folder in your lap as you waited for him with a smile on your face he found unsettling.

Ben still didn't buy you or your intentions, but he sat down on the opposite sofa nonetheless. You had brought him something he asked from you, something he wanted and would calm him down for a little. Hopefully it wasn't going to be that bad. He only had to put up with the game of doctor-patient. In the back of his mind, he was also grateful you dropped the stupid white coat at the same time he found your attempt to fix him ridiculous. He didn't need to get fixed.

"Your guards ain't hurting me with those guns, you know that," Ben started.

"We have to try," you shrugged. "And you're still here, that has to mean something."

He rolled his eyes. Of fucking course he had to stay. There were a lot of questions in his head. He had to settle down for a moment. Things were different in the world, he needed to learn about today's tech and get a fucking good plan to get away with his shit. Who would he get to kill first? Still thinking about it. How would he escape? Probably could use some help to keep a low profile. Could you be that help, being the only human contact he figured would have from now on? Maybe.

"So how are you feeling? Did you have some sleep?" you asked.

"I slept enough, spent the whole fucking night jerking off," he spat. "That TV of yours now does have good porn some hours in the day."

With wide eyes, you wrote down after his answer.

"Alright. But tell me, how are you feeling?" you pushed, your smile long gone and replaced with a serious face locking your gaze to his own.

"Great, never been fucking better" he smirked and you shifted on your seat.

His green eyes started checking you all over for a second. The pencil skirt hugged your legs perfectly and the blouse was tight enough to show off the size of your breasts. The clothes yelling that you were expensive and valuable for the CIA, and most important, to Mallory. Soon he sensed the discomfort emanating from you as his gaze returned to your face. God, he loved doing that, but you sure were daring to get locked inside a room with him alone.

"You can tell me the truth, you know," you said.

"I can easily break your neck and explode this shithole if I want to," he spat back.

"You won't do that. You had the chance yesterday, today even, and yet here you are."

He thought you sounded so sure about that. Ben held your gaze. Neither of you dare to break eye contact. It was like you were challenging him to something he wasn't aware of just yet. He didn't like that, but he remained there, breathing deeply with a strong look on his face. You were right though, and he realised could find you a good usage besides the obvious fucking use for pretty girls like you. He might have missed a good fuck for 40 years but the little common sense on the back of his mind told him the porn channel was enough for now.

"Listen, I know you're not a bad guy," the words fell softly from your lips. "I know you didn't mean to harm those people in Midtown... And in order to help you I could use some information on how you feel every time the blast comes-"

He stood up abruptly, strong enough to move the sofa he was sitting some feet away behind his back and yelled aggressively.

"Fuck off, bitch. What the fuck do you know about me? I don't trust your kind and you're making my threat sound like a great plan now.

You held his gaze as he made his way towards you. You were a prey in his cage, but even if you were scared, he didn't sense any sign of it. Ben's big frame towered you, standing just inches away from the couch you sat on. The space was enough for him to kill you with only one hand but you never moved or flinched a second.

"If you touch me, just a single hair on my scalp, you're fucked."

"C'mon sweetheart, you're no match for me," he mocked with a smirk on his face.

"Novichok definitely is."

He tightened his fists with his lips on a straight line, and his heartbeat increased at the mention of that fucking poison. Meanwhile, you just sat down looking at him with a blank face and innocent eyes. For a moment, he was tempted to just kill you but he forced himself to calm the fuck down. He didn't want to black out again, he certainly did not want to become a fugitive. If he was going to do something, it had to be done well.

"Soldier Boy, it's okay," you got on your feet. His eyes followed your moves. "It's fine if you don't want to talk to me. I can't force you to."

He saw a strange sparkle in your eyes. Were you pitying him? He didn't need that. And when he said nothing, then you continued.

"You accepted the deal, and that includes therapy to help you get out of your trauma. And sooner or later, you have to talk to me," you explained, he felt like a fucking child being scolded.

"You want to fucking help me and spray me with Novichok at the same time," he groaned.

"We have to take our precautions. But trust me. I’d rather not use that on you, I prefer other ways."

"This is fucking crap," he mumbled through his teeth.

He watched you making your way towards the book shelf, leaning down to grab a couple of books. He took in the curve of your ass as you knelt, and he wondered if you were doing all that little show on purpose to test him. His jaw clenched once again at the thought of being played with false promises and a cure to his memories.

"I can leave, but I will come tomorrow," you tossed two books on the coffee table: one about PTSD, the other one about new technology for him to start educating himself on that. "Start reading those and write down in the notebook anything you have to say. It can be about the books, your thoughts, your feelings... Anything you want. I don't have to know unless you want me to."

If looks could kill, you were already dead. He still didn't trust you. He didn't understand completely why a stupid psychiatrist of the CIA wanted him to go through rehab. You were a woman, for fucks sake. Psychiatrists were old, wise, rich men back in his days, not expensive sluts.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You're lucky I'm trying hard not to crush your bones right now, pretty thing."

"At least you're trying, that's improvement," you smiled cockily, pointing at his chest with a finger and you took your bag and belongings together, as if he didn't threaten to kill you like three times in the same conversation. "I will leave you now. Have a good lunch, Soldier Boy."

"Time of death 9:41 a.m."

The sound of the monitor disturbed your senses as the voice announced all over the place the death of yet another supe. You watched through the windows as two lab assistants ran inside the chamber to take out the lifeless body of the woman who had given her life to volunteer and assist the program. Anything for the cure, you remember her voice saying, even after she was warned about the possible effects. The worst of them being death. The contract stipulated it clearly and you told her to think twice before agreeing to take the third version of the Anti-V, although she hesitated a lot before joining.

You breathed out. The formula needed improvement, quickly. How many corpses had they taken out of there? You lost count already. You ordered Bianca, your young assistant, to note down all the details one day after the second death of a supe you witnessed, and for her to count them as necessary and at all cost. Arms folded on your chest, your jaw clenched, losing hope and feeling despair running through your spine. The discomfort of what had to be done to find a cure sometimes was too much of a burden. But sacrifices had to be done.

And speaking about sacrifices, you knew you had to get into Soldier Boy's head as soon as possible. The few other sessions you tried to talk to him were useless. The sixth one being today before lunch. A part of you was growing tired of faking it and pretending to be a psychiatrist, it really wasn't your field but you knew how to be one after many sessions, research, and medication on your own. Grace had taken care of your training years ago and this was just another mission with a huge impact and objective in mind: destroy Vought and Homelander, and then provide the cure to supes who didn't want their powers and give them the chance to live a normal life. People like you needed the cure, but first things first.

"Doc, the analysis of Blaze is updated," Bianca said, giving you the tablet to check the information on the supe that was collected.

"Thanks."

Blaze, or Electra Richards was her real name, was a low-profile supe for some time, and you had a secret track of those like her with some help. These kinds of supes didn't really represent a threat to Vought, so it was kind of easy to contact them and give them a possible solution with a warning written all over the place. When Electra was contacted, she had to think about it but eventually said yes. She was young and brave, but she never wanted powers. She had superhuman strength and healed in minutes, seconds even, her bones were indestructible, and when your people ran the proper tests on her she was healthy as hell. Pity that her body wasn't enough to take in the injection of the new Anti-V prototype.

You read the last notes your assistant typed on the supe's profile.

Cause of death: sudden cardiac arrest caused by ventricular fibrillation; failure in electrical signaling within the heart.

You couldn't continue like this, not anymore. Nine months and nothing seemed to work out. Some supes died, some of them quit the program, and you didn't really blame them for it. The failures were growing bigger than the small steps close to creating the final antidote. The process was becoming an endless trial and error. With a tired face and a sigh, you left the tablet on a desk and walked out making your way to your office.

You took out your cell phone and dialed Grace, walking around the room worriedly. You needed to vent or talk. Anything. And gladly, she picked up by the third ring.

"Is everything okay?" she asked on the other line. She knew you too well.

"I- No, it isn't. But you already know that," you breathed. "Another supe died on trial today. I don't know how many we have-" your voice cut off abruptly and you sighed, composing yourself after a moment. "We keep losing a lot of people..."

Grace exhaled. "It's part of the job. It's your project, you know it was coming when I approved to do this."

"That makes it even worse, you're not helping me," you replied with a playful tone. "I've been thinking- I would like to try the cure."

"No. We need you to focus on this."

"And when I get him, when I get Soldier Boy's blood? He already takes powers of supes with the blast. Should be easier."

"He's your safest option for now. You'll find a way to get it, I trust you. But don't make stupid and hurried decisions, just wait for the right moment," the lady scolded. You smiled a little, like if she was watching you. "About that, how's he doing? Is he cooperating?"

"Not at all, that's my other problem," you fell back on your chair ungracefully, your back hurting at the thought of seeing him again that day. "I am trying to get him to talk, even using my cards of dressing up like I'm a fucking slut with tight skirts and all, but he's really backing up. Besides he's a fucking dick," your words made Grace chuckle for a bit.

"All supes we have dealt with are dicks, especially Vought. But Y/N, you got this," her words attempted to make you feel better. "This is one of our best options to take them down for once. I know you've been working on this way long before you talked to me, and that's the reason I know it's gonna work, doing whatever it takes."

"Thank you, Grace," you mumbled from your heart. Disappointing her was not on your list, and you hoped it won't happen anytime soon. So you switched the topic of the conversation. "And how have you been?"

[dairyfreenugget]

(Alt text under read more)

*collapses*

He's done. I decided to not do the back because it'd be more torture work and nothing about it changed between this and the previous refs so I'll use the previous references exclusively for the back patterns.

ID start: A reference sheet for the Pale King from Hollow Knight as a human done on a grey background. The main focus in the picture is the fullbody artwork of him, his lower two arms are laying down his side while the upper left arm is held behind his back and the right one is held high, gesturing. On the right is a close-up of his arm and three types of legs, open mouth, eyes, two profile headshots and his long braid with two types of chair accessories; a blue ribbon tied into a bow and the same ribbon but with a metal clip resembling his crown. He's an older man with pure white skin covered in plates that give him the appearance of a segmented bug-like body. The lower half of his body is far more bug-like with front two legs resembling that of a beetle stylised to look similar to deer hooves, with a long tail of a centipede with nine segments ending with a pincer of an earwig, the first segment's legs resembling a mix between the beetle and centipede legs. His four hands are stained with void, vein-like stains leading up his forearms, neck, and cheeks up to his eyes. His long hair is parted in the middle by his horns resembling a crown and tied into a long braid going all the way down to the second segment of his tail. He's thin, with a saggy lower stomach covered in stretch marks. The plates on his abdomen are slightly pushed apart, revealing a soft pinkish skin underneath. His crotch and chest are covered in thick white hair. He has a small scar on the lower right side of his chest between his ribs and a large burn scar on the left side of his body, going all the way from his hip to his chest. He has long elf ears, sharp claws and fangs, pink split tongue, and completely white eyes with three eyelashes at the bottom. He has moles, including two below his right eye, one below the elft corner of his mouth and ond on the left side of his neck. End ID.

ID start: The same reference drawing as the previous picture, except he's wearing a white dress with a grey rim on the bottom decorated with white floral embroidery and Hallownest insignia on the front of the rim, grey frilly collar, long puffy sleeves with grey cuffs at the end, and a wide black belt in his mid section that's decorated with small metal buttons the shapes of flowers running along the rim. He's wearing leather feet covering, with a braid pattern in the middle and Hallownest insignia on the top part of the shoe. End ID.

Start ID: The same reference drawing as the previous picture, but he's wearing a white long coat with a blue rim, blue ends of the sleeves and high collar on top of his dress. The coat is tied in the middle with a belt made of cloth, its ends neatly tied and rested in the middle, ending judt below his knees. The belt is blue with white and light blue embroidery on it; a light blue two-lined rim and floral patterns going along it, and white Hallownest insignia in the middle with the king's brand below and a couple of four pointed stars formednin a line separating the two and above them. End ID.

ID start: The same reference sheet as the previous picture, but with a thin shawl folded and wrapped around his shoulders with the ends tucked into the belt to keep it in place. It's a white shawl with frilly ends and a light blue rim, it's partially see-through. End ID.

ID start: The same reference sheet as the prdvious picture, except with a white mask covering his eyes and white gloves, with slits for his black claws. End ID.

ID start: The same reference sheet as the previous picture, but with a cucha/a woollen jacket drapped over his shoulders. It's white with blue and light blue floral embroidery and rim along the edges, collar, and sleeves of the jacket. It's tied at the top with a blue ribbon and metal clips resembling the Hallownest insignia. On either side of the metal clips is the embroidery of the insignia surrounded by two flowers on either side. End ID.

ID start: The same reference sheet as in the previous picture, but instead, he's wearing a full-face white mask and a clip-on hood, held together by a meter clip on the bottom that resembles the Hallownest seal, and buttons at the top, with the hood fabric wrapped around his horns. The hood is white with blue and light blue rim. End ID.

ID start: The same reference sheet as in the previous picture, but he has a long full-body, white, see-through veil with frilly ends drapped over him. End ID.

[2plottwist]

Don't Trust Strange Magic Portals

Summary: After completing the Gauntlet of Shar, you and your companions prepare to return to camp. However, Gale opts for a shortcut through the Weave using portals. A magical mishap occurs, leaving you and Astarion to navigate through multiple portals in search of the one that leads back to camp.

Pairing: Astarion x Female!reader

Warnings: None, just a funny little story

Word Count: 2k

Author: Kenna:)

A/N: The word "portal" will become non-existent to you after reading this story. I'm sorry, but I couldn't get this funny little story out of my head.

Your muscles screamed at you as your body whipped around, bringing your blade down on another Dark Justiciar. The sound of the metal hitting the hard floor was a satisfying clink that rang through your ears. As you scanned the room, you waited for another opponent to charge against you. Finding that the coast was clear, your back finally slumped, your long sword hitting the floor in that familiar clink. 

“Well,” Gale’s voice pipes up from beside you, “That was a riveting experience!” 

You look up at him, you tired eyes hating the fact that he’s still optimistic and happy after our battle. “We almost died!” The whining voice of Astarion shouts across the room. 

“Yes, but we learned something.” Gale smiles, pointing a dirt covered finger to the air. 

You sheath your sword, stretching your sore arms into the air, “And what did we learn, exactly? Other than the fact that Astarion can’t hit anyone with an arrow even from high ground.” 

“Hey!” He whined again in offense. 

“We learned that we work fantastic as a team!” Gale’s chirping voice grates against your battle worn ears. 

You roll your eyes meeting Astarion’s, his expression matching yours. As you wipe the blood off your skin, your eyes move to Shadowheart, kneeling in the middle of the small room. Her shoulders shake as stares at the rubble covered floor. 

“Shadowheart?” You whisper, moving over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

She rises quickly, shaking your hand off, “I’m fine. Let’s go.” Her face was completely emotionless and unfeeling. Her eyes look numb and heartbroken after losing the favor of her goddess. 

“Wonderful idea!” Gale chimes again, you have to fight the feeling of rolling your eyes. “Let me make a portal through the weave to our camp. It’ll be a lot easier than hiking through those cursed lands.” 

Gale's hands begin to move in extravagant circles, purple tendrils floating from his hands and arms. Shadowheart floats close to Gale, waiting for the portal to open to the one place she feels safest. As you wipe crusted blood and dirt off your skin, a glinting light catches your eye. 

You snap your eyes to the light. As it shines again, your curiosity overcomes the soreness of your muscles, causing your feet to begin moving. The small ornate chest was placed in a small room off the side of your battlefield. The arched doorway gave way to a smaller, dark room. Rubble still decorating the floor, dust covered the snuffed out torches. The only available light shining through a moonscreen on the ceiling. 

As you reach the small ornate chest, you find that the lid was locked. You try to open it with brute force, maybe it’s old enough to just open. It didn’t. You sigh, dropping to your knees in front of the dark wooden chest. 

The sound of footsteps caused your eyes to look over your shoulder. The blood soaked and dust covered vampire spawn walked slowly over to you, observing the walls and sconces. “Need my expertise?” He quips, kneeling down next to you. 

Your body was too tired, your throat too dry to answer. You just move over the slightest bit to allow him room to pick the lock. His hands move quickly, his shoulders swiped against yours a few times, shooting chills through your bones. 

You stared at his profile, his beautiful face being illuminated by the moonlight flowing through the ceiling. As he pops the chest open, you shake your head, pushing the thoughts of his lips against yours out of your mind. 

You look inside the shallow box to see a regular crossbow, rotten tomato, and a scroll of Speak To The Dead. You sigh in defeat, “So much for that.” You mumble as you reach inside and take the small scroll. 

You rise as soon as a huge flash of purple lights up the small room and a thunderous sound that pushes yours and Astarion’s backs into the rubble on the ground. Your back screamed in pain and your head throbbed. The large explosion still raced through your body, magic vibrating your skin as your eyes blinked open. The blur finally gave way to clear vision again. 

You looked around, holding your throbbing head. You felt large hands grab your arm and waist. “What in the nine hells was that?” Astarion’s shocked voice moved through your ears, slightly dulling your headache. 

His hands were a nice feeling against your body as he pulled you to your feet. You stretched your body again, noting each of the painful feelings. Astarion retracted his hands as your spine straightened. You tried to move toward the archway, but quickly tripped over a piece of rubble. 

Astarion’s hands shoot to your waist again. “Come now,” Astarion chuckles, “I thought you would be more graceful after a life-threatening magical explosion.” 

You scoff, cherishing the support Astarion’s hand provides to your waist. You walk forward and slide over the rubble piling under the archway. Your mind still reels with battle bludgeoned thoughts and your throbbing skull. Your eyes scan across the larger room, several purple portals spread across the expanse. 

“Gale?” You shout, causing a sharp pain to bounce against your skull. 

No answer. 

“Shadowheart?” You ask the room again. 

The metallic taste of magic fills your mouth as you observe the portals surrounding you. “Did they… leave us?” Astarion’s voice drips with worry and fear. 

“Gale, this isn’t funny. Close the damn portals and let us go to camp.” You groan, bringing your hands up to your temples. You can’t handle any more shit today. 

There was still no answer. 

“What in the hells are we going to do?” Astarion asks, shifting closer to you, moving his eyes to watch your dazed ones over his shoulder. 

“I guess we try one out.” You state plainly, walking to the center of the room. 

He scoffs, following you closely, “Are you insane?!”

His voice, while always being your favorite sound, felt like knives against your throbbing head. You wince as your eyes scan the portals again, deciding which one to try first. Your instinct pushes you towards the first one on your right. You step towards it, bringing your hand up. You can feel the warm embrace of the magic against your palm. 

As you extend your arm towards the circling magic, Astarion’s hands roughly grab your waist, moving you quickly away from the portal. “You are insane. You can’t just walk into strange magical portals like that. Were you raised in a barn?” He chides, dragging you away from your chosen portal. 

“I don’t want to walk all the way back to camp.” You whine, your body screaming to just drop to the floor and sleep. 

“I don’t trust this magic.” He narrows his eyes at the numerous portals. 

You sigh, turning away from him and towards another portal to your right, “You don’t trust anything.” 

Before you could hear his remark, you step into the purple light. A slight whooshing moves past your ears, your hair flies around your face and a warm embrace envelopes your body. You close your eyes, relishing in the comforting feeling then your feet hit the hard floor. You open your eyes to see the back of Astarion’s head. 

“You’re right. That’s why I’ve lived this long.” His sarcastic voice moves through the air. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You say. 

Astarion’s body whips around, eyes widening in surprise. His eyes move to the portal you just went through then back to you, pointing at each, trying to make sense of what just happened. 

While dazed and confused, you still came up with a conclusion faster than he did. “Fuck.” 

“Yes, that seems to be the correct word for this unfortunate situation.” Astarion snaps, looking around the room again, trying to decipher what portal would lead you back to camp. “Let’s try this one.” He smiles, walking over to another. 

“I thought you didn’t trust strange magic portals.” You quip sarcastically. 

“There should be one that led Gale and Shadowheart back to camp and left us here. If the rest of them are just going to lead back to this room, might as well try them out.” He smiles smugly as he steps into another portal.

You stand still, scanning the room, waiting for his body to appear again at another portal. You hear another whooshing sound then a wet slapping sound against the floor. You look to the other side of the room to find a sopping wet Astarion, anger radiating off his features. Water drips off his sodden hair, coating every inch of his body. 

You do your best to hide your laughter, but you can’t help the loud snort that leaves your mouth. “Not. A. Word.” He states, stomping over to where you are, ire emanating off his body. 

You can’t help it, his words coming back to bite him in the ass is too hilarious. His body straightens, shivers racking his body from the apparently very cold water. You wipe your smirk off your face and move toward the next portal. 

As you step through, the familiar warm embrace wraps around you. Your feet hit soft soil. You smile, knowing that you’re back at camp but the missing smell of smoke confuses your senses. You open your eyes to see a large field of wildflowers laid out before you. The large tree that the portal sits under has soft white petals gracing the wind and tangling in your hair. 

You shake your head and sigh in defeat. The pain radiating through your body and the throbbing in your head only makes this whole situation just that more frustrating. You step back through the portal and shake your head at Astarion.

“Now that’s just not fair!” He whines, “You get beautiful flowers in your hair and I get the godsdamn ocean.” He sighs as wet footsteps slap their way over to you. A giggle rises in your throat. “Let’s just walk back. It can’t be that far.” 

“Let me just try one more.” You smile softly, “I have a good feeling about this one.” You point at the one sitting in front of you two. 

Another exasperated sigh leaves Astarion’s mouth, “Fine, but I’m going to do it and if I don’t get flowers and rainbows, I’m going to rain hellsfire down on that boot eating wizard.” 

You laugh and motion for his go-ahead, “How noble of you.” 

“Thank you.” Astarion nods his head and sticks his hand into the portal, quickly wincing and shutting his eyes. 

When there seemed to be no pain or water on the other side of the portal, Astarion moves his whole body through. You follow suit, allowing the warm embrace to again envelope your sore muscles. 

“There you are!” A chirping voice broke through the embrace, “And you’re wet.” 

Gale’s voice boomed across the camp and towards the open portal you and Astarion stood in front of. 

“You left us there!!” Astarion shouted, causing another pounding sensation in your head. 

A confused expression washes over Gale, his eye brows furrow. “I left the portal open for you.” He states, motioning to the circling portal. 

“Yes,” Astarion coos softly, “and about a hundred other portals!”

“Oh,” Gale drops his eyes, bringing his hand up to his chin. A motion he does when he’s thinking, “I guess my magic responded poorly to my conjuration spell. The magic of Shar must have multiplied the portals and twisted them into their own doorways.” 

“Wow, a scholar, ladies and gentleman!” Astarion motions to the camp, but he turns toward you, taking your waist again and pulling your arm over your shoulder, “Let’s get you fixed up before Gale pushes us into a portal to Avernus.” 

You sigh, putting all your weight on his body and allowing him to lead you to your tent. His touch reminds you of the warm embrace of the portals whooshing and moving across your skin. “At least we learned something!” You chime, mocking Gale’s previous words, causing Astarion to groan in frustration.

[rallamajoop]

Cultic Iconography in Resident Evil Village

As the kind of nerd who loves all the creepy artwork you can find decorating Miranda-shrines around the village (like, just check out that one of the half-skeletal Miranda hovering in the graveyard and just tell me that isn't metal AF), I was on the lookout for the original image assets while poking through the game files. I'm hardly an expert on Catholic or Orthodox iconography (plenty of which is creepy enough just to begin with), but I adore how you can see all those elements being twisted and appropriated by Miranda's cult. You'll find these six pictures plastered all over the village in various combinations.

So you can imagine how thrilled I was to find a whole extra batch of unused artwork in the same set!

Lest you doubt these were all meant to go together, they all hail from the one big compilation file ‒ I've just cropped them out separately for ease of viewing. For all I know, maybe some of these were used somewhere in the game and I just never caught it (and if you have spotted any, please let me know!)

But taken at face value, our unused images consist of one picture of the megamycete, a 10-winged-madonna figure (why limit yourself to just 6?), a side profile of Miranda herself (possibly excluded because it shows off a little too much of her real face?), two images of dead crows, and (strangest of all) a man holding a goat head.

That last pic especially stands out ‒ and not just because I could (and, indeed, now have) legit write you a whole essay on just the significance of the goat's head motif as a protective symbol in the village (seriously, it's everywhere from the Goats of Warding to the symbol on the shield of the Maiden of War statue), so I'm going to be all over any new example. But who the hell is that guy carrying it? No other image centers anyone but Miranda herself as an object of worship. This looks more like someone's taken a generic pic of the likes of St Francis of Assisi hanging out with some animals (it's a theme, you can look it up), then just cut the poor animal off at the neck for added creep factor.

So do we take it that this guy was, at some point, meant to be another key figure in Miranda's cult? Or was generic-saint-with-animal-plus-extra-squick all they were really going for? Was it drawn before the writers made Miranda the cult leader? Or could this even have been intended (as the goats themselves seem to be) as some in-universe, pre-Miranda relic of an earlier era?

Also interesting: he appears to be holding one of those ornate staves you can also see in the fire and skeletal images of Miranda above (and can also find in the field near Luisa's early in the game, before they're all replaced by charred, semi-crucified corpses). Did that symbol predate Miranda too? Fascinating, either way.

Those two crow pictures may be even more intriguing still. I'm sure we all remember that spooky batch of dead and/or hanging crows Ethan discovers at the start of his descent into the village, but thereafter nothing like that is ever seen again. Given that Miranda herself is so closely associated with crows, it's reasonable to wonder if this very-literal murder-of-crows was in fact some act of heresy by an unbeliever, deliberately hidden out in the woods.

But if images of dead crows ‒ including one hung in the very same position ‒ were at some point intended to appear alongside other images of Miranda-veneration, then presumably veneration was always the intent for those dead crows out in the woods. Suffering is, of course, a key part of the stories of so many saints. And perhaps crows are sacred only in the same way that the goats are: ideal candidates for ritual sacrifice.

Much as I love all the concept art you can already unlock with the game, I'd pay good money for a proper artbook going into all this kind of design work. There's clearly so much more that went into the concept art stages of this game that I'd love to hear more about.

And while we're at it, here's a nice big version of the standard winged-fetus symbol too:

[angelstate]

“Devotion And Death”

Genre: Angst. No comfort.

Pairing: Simon Riley x Sargeant!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warning: Suicidal ideation, Mention of Death, Religious symbolism. (is not used in regards to dictate reader's or character's religion in the story but with the intent of a more dramatic and poetic narration)

Synopsis: “Devotion to loving causes souls to grieve, even the one's who haven't died yet. Devotion and Death walk side by side in the heart of those who have been hurt by lost.”

disclaimer: this is not the finished product, I'm attempting to finish it soon but i thought it would be nice share what I've written so far! xx

“Death catches up to everyone.”

Simon could feel your stare on him, hear your tears hit the floor, breaking the silence of the ambient in a heart wrecking way that made his entire soul twist in pain.

He took a deep breath at this, it was the middle of the battlefield, it was the middle of a horrible war and there you were. Crying silently, the now wet soil in front of your feet being the only other proof that your tears were falling.

Simon couldn't move, couldn't breath, couldn't grip his rifle any tighter than he already was. It was like he was stucked in time, not being able to react to the sight infront of him.

he saw the way your hands shook in each side of your tired body, the way you couldn't stop blinking repeatedly to try and get rid of the wet liquid falling from your eyes like an open faucet.

Oh, how he hated the sight before him...

You looked so unbelievably lost, like a child searching for it's parents on the amusement park, so many things that were beautiful becoming terrifying before your eyes. The night sky feeling like monster ready to creep up on you and swallow you whole.

You were as conflicted as he was, as dumbfounded, as tired, as wrecked...as lost.

It felt like a betrayal to be in the middle of this place, bullets decorating the floor, perforations on the few standing walls around you made by said discarded bullets.

It was nothing like home and yet, the only person you needed to feel like at home seemed to be...not anything close to a safe place.

"Are you alright, Sarg?" Simon asked with his usual cold tone, not being able to put an ounce of emotion for your so obvious need of comfort

You nodded once but then stood there, like a kid who had a nightmare, waiting to be noticed, to be called, to be coddled, cuddled, to be lulled to sleep.

Sometimes you wished you had never become a soldier, that you had stayed in college, made friends, got a normal job...got a life where the closest you were to war was what you saw on TV...Too far away to go into the battlefield, too safe to ever see a gun.

You shuffled in your place, not facing him anymore, your side profile only visible for him in the darkness drowning your bodies, the wetness of your cheeks noticeable by the moonlight shinning on your face.

Simon didn't knew how to comfort you, didn't knew how to dry your tears, feed your soul, ease your mind, put you to sleep..he didn't knew anything at all and it was as traumatizing as reliving the inflicted wounds of his childhood. He felt as if he was hurting his younger self in you, how much you resembled that poor boy...he saw himself on you.

He saw the purity of your soul being ripped away from your chest the same way his had been ripped away from him.

Your hand moved to rest on your gun hostler, the cold metal icing your warm skin and suddenly, the palpable opportunity to...to do something about the misery felt tempting and yet so out of touch.

Complicated, conflicted, lost.

Simon noticed the weapon now at your reach, and for the first time since you met years ago as rookies, he didn't trust you with a gun...

Such a different reason now on his mind, the scenarios running through his head, sending chills down his spine as he took one unstable step closer to you before stopping...

"Resting is important for a successful mission" he began to speak, his tone nonchalant but his feelings felt heavy on his chest. Like something was wrong.

“Death catches up to your loved ones.”

Nothing felt right after that night, nothing felt right after seeing you so close to the end.

Nothing felt right after seeing how you were ready to do it infront of him

Simon felt broken, like a partner grieving their lover's death, staring at an empty casket because their body were not to be moved from where it fell that cold winter night.

It would be a crime to touch your cold body, to move you from where you were finally put to rest.

It would be a crime to grieve anywhere else than where you decided to go.

It would be a crime to wipe the dry blood from the floor, it would be a crime to use a old cloth to wipe away remains of his lover.

Simon could smell the rotten meat, the fresh blood. Feel your heartbeat fade in his arms, your skin grow cold. See your soul leave your body, the light on your doe eyes dimming till it disappeared.

Simon could only grip tighter your deceased body, smearing himself with the red liquid that leaked from you, painting the soil in which you rested.

Simon had never wished more to be buried alive once again beside a rotting body.

He had never craved more to hear your voice ringing in his ear, feel the heat of your skin in the middle of a summer night.

He had never craved more to be in an argument with you, alive and kicking. Blood flowing inside your body and not out of you to the wet soil.

Feeding the roots hiding under the first layer of dirt, providing the trees with nutrients to blossom in the spring in all their glory.

Simon wanted your screams, your complains, your warmth, your touch....He wanted you alive.

Why was it so hard for the people he loved to stay alive?

He wondered if peace was an option, if leaving the military was the remedy for the grief. If using the same gun that took your life, a ticket to paradise. If drowning in the scent you left on the bed a solution for the night terrors.

He wondered if there was anything in this world, anything he could do...to forget about the pain, to Emancipate the grieve from his chest.

Simon felt like a haunted house, full of the ghosts of his loved ones, each one of them crowding one room on his heart till it burned in pain.

Was it pain all he had left?

Maybe he was overthinking, maybe he was just running laps around the terrifying idea of ever losing you. Would he ever lose you? Would he allow himself to live after losing you?

Grief was a weird feeling, specially when the person being grieved wasn't dead.

“Death catches up to You.”

"You looked different after that night" Simon thought everytime his eyes fell on you, his heart becoming a desperate void, craving to be filled with your love one more time

You looked tired after that night, at times light flashed through you, dying before anyone could set the fire alive again.

Simon smelled the cigarettes, the alcohol, the sadness, the death in you.

He saw how you were tearing yourself apart, he saw the bruises. He saw the cigarette burns in your arms.

And it hurt him, he saw himself in you, he saw the life being ripped away from you, he saw the tiredness he hid behind stoicism and rudeness showing on full display on you.

It was as if he was looking at the inside of his bruised self in you.

It was heart wrecking to feel grief and love towards a dead soul, trapped in a living body.

He noticed the way your trays full of food were thrown into the garbage, the way you repelled warmth, conversations, connection.

What sort of spell you were trapped in? He didn't knew, was it God punishing you from past lives? He wished it wasn't. Was it suicidal ideations? He prayed not.

He hated the sight of guns in your hands since that night, your finger pressed on the trigger pulling ropes after ropes of panic out of his wrecked heart.

Your eyes lingered in the guns for longer, your finger pressed with more pressure than supposed to on the trigger whenever the barrel was facing you, as if you put to much pressure and shoot yourself would be seen as a mistake.

The team knew you better than that, you were sure of it, they had been your family for years, they had hugged, cried, smiled, laughed along side with you.

They must have noticed the recklessness you used now. Simon had noticed.

Simon had loved you for long enough to notice when you stood differently, when your scent changed with the seasons, when your body language changed with illness.

He knew...he knew.

“Don't do anything reckless” Simon said, tugging your vest down, not trying to adjust it but shaking your body into consciousness again.

He wanted you alive.

Another mission, another chance to die.

You nodded at his words, tired eyes falling on him for just a second before you looked away, hands grabbing your rifle with uneasiness.

Death was a louring creature, and Simon could see it creeping up from behind you like in that night. taking a peek at your tired body, seeing your clock of life ticking more slowly

The night sky of that horrifying night had given clues, had screamed in your faces that it was near.

Death was near

Screams that fell into deaf ears, Devotion never allows death to speak, fearing it's bad news, fearing a loved one was the next to be buried.

“I like you alive, Sargeant” Simon finished speaking with this phrase, his tone cold yet a familiar fondness dripping from the words.

You nodded again, a tired smile on your lips that dissolved like an ice on boiling water.

Getting into the helicopter, getting off from it, scurrying like sewer rats around enemy territory, into the battlefield once again.

This time not with him by your side.

Simon didn't trust you with your life.

You moved around, the sun hitting your skin, overheating your body as you walked slowly, fearing to be heard by enemies.

All you had to do was enter a building, gather Intel and leave.

It was easy, it had been done multiple times by everyone....but something felt off.

You walked alongside your teammates, guiding each other with security, with confidence, you could smell the gunpowder on the alley you were slowly walking through

every step you took made your heart clench, heartbeats loud and quick on your chest, accelerated by adrenaline and anxiety.

getting closer to the building, your team separated for better ground coverage, leaving you crawling your way into the building, gun tucked into your vest.

It was now time to act, to do your job the way you were supposed to because you had to come home, you had to crawl your way back into Simon's arms.

It was an obligation at this point, to make it back alive even when you were supposed to die.

It was devotion to love him in the bed death made for you to lay in...

You had always found interesting how Simon could love you so much and yet persistently run away from feelings.

How he could cradle your face in his hands when you fell asleep in the mess hall while you were in the middle of eating after a mission. Too tired to swallow, too tired to guide yourself to bed.

How he wouldn't wake you up, but wait until the two of you were the only ones left to grab you into his arms and slowly guiding your sleeping body to your bed.

But how in the next morning he would disappear from your sight, becoming the Ghost he was in the battlefield, sneaking around the base without leaving a trace or hint or where he was for days. Until somehow he reappeared, acting like nothing happened.

Simon, always so interestingly mysterious and undeniably hard to understand. He struck your life in a way no one had before, left a mark in all the right corners of your heart that no matter, you couldn't escape him.

He was the definition of a sadistical love, tauntingly painful yet extremely addicting to the receiving end, you. The only one sallowing the pain, your tears and blood being drank by him like it was heaven liquified for his consumption.

the overwhelming feeling of anxiety sat heavily on your chest, maybe it was your instincts telling you something was wrong, begging you to turn around and abandon the mission, it didn't matter to the high moral compass that guided your steps silently across the room.

was it better to die in sacrifice for the betterment of your peers than to do so by your own hand? was it the enemy's merciless weaponry kinder than your own gun?

if Simon was by your side he would have the answer, he would mutter a set of words in such a threatening tone that the worry behind them could not be perceived, he would push you through the mission with a bruising grasp and force you to live to tell the tale of another horrible mission for the hope of a better future you doubt would be even achieved before you perished.

But, Simon wasn't here.

so your knees didn't quit being an unstable support for your weight, the ticking clock that marked your death slowing down as your heartbeat began to accelerate like an uncontrollable force.

with fear clawing at walls of your soul you began to move slowly towards the door, boots softly tapping against the wooden floor, every screech sending waves of panic, the thought of being heard by one of the enemies enough to have blood flowing through your brain in a way that made you dizzy.

but you pushed through the feelings of sheer panic, moving swiftly around the room. opening the door slowly and observing the empty hallway, no sign of people around nor any sort of weapon.

it looked unsettlingly normal in between the chaos of scattered bullets and debris of destroyed buildings on the street.

"please" you muttered quietly a plea of forgiveness, hoping that God would absolve every wrong doing, every death under your belt, every mumbled put curse and every bain use of his name.

you exhaled after a few seconds of holding in your breath, walking outside of the room into the corridor, the wooden floor creaking under your boots but that didn't stop you from moving.

mind somehow clear of the fear, moral driven by the need to complete your duty motivating your limbs to push through the dread stuck in between the creases of your body.

unaware of the danger, unconscious of death knocking on the door the led to your soul and heartbeat.

May God forgive you for your sins, may the angels guide your soul into heaven, may holy mary pray for your the redemption of your hollow devotion.

May every deity able to destine a good afterlife be in your favor.

Because mercy is one way street not many people are allowed to walk on.

[up-designs-metal-art]

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[nimblermortal]

@athingofvikings

Above all, the Sámi were people of the drum - the sacred instrument that was the primary tool of their noaidi, or what anthropologists would call a shaman. Their spiritual beliefs and practices were deeply connected to those of other circumpolar cultures, and differed markedly from those of the Scandinavians. In the early modern period when missionaries tried to convert the Sámi to Christianity, often by brutal force and the intentional destruction of their ancient spiritual values, a word was coined to represent the rapidly fading past of the old ways, encapsulating traditions that went back to the Viking Age and beyond: goabdesájgge (in the Lule Sámi language), the 'Drim Time'. Throughout the narratives of this book, it should always be kept in mind that the time of the Vikings was also the time of the drums.

...

There are also aspects of the monumental burials that raise other questions, as some of the great boat burials contain Sámi tent covers made of birch bark with the characteristic burnt decorations. These were used to swathe some of the funerary ships; from the Sámi perspective, this would turn the whole vessel into a burial wrapped according to their practice. It is hard to know what this means - perhaps a diplomatic gift, like a foreign dignitary laying a wreath at a modern politician's funeral, or something more interactive? A close relationship between the Scandinavians and the Sámi at the highest levels nevertheless seems established.

...

In many of the hals, archaeologists have found tiny rectangular foils of pure gold, wafer thin and stamped with images. There are human figures, alone or in pairs, making formal gestures - pointing, an embrace, a kiss - or with their arms in such specific positions that they must mean something. The figures are usually in profile but occasionally are seen from the front. Their clothing and hairstyles are minutely depicted, an important source for our knowledge of fashion, gendered dress, and social signals. They carry staffs, weapons, horns, and cups. The figures stand within borders of beaded gold, or amidst interlace patterns. A few figures are not on foils at all, but are cut out freestyle like paper dolls in precious metal. Even fewer are very clearly not human, or divine, but something else entirely: strange, swollen shapes - monsters, perhaps, or beings of another world. The foils tend to cluster round postholes for the uprights that supported the roof, and would probably once have been fixed to the posts themselves with resin or some similar adhesive.

On the few occasions where the stamp matrixes used to mass-prodce the foils have been found, it is evident there were particular motifs for individual hall complexes; in other words, a specific design denoted a single place or its people. Perhaps the foils were high-end business cards, or ambassadorial tokens, presented by visitors and then affixed in place in the host's hall. Multiple repeated foil images on the posts indicate return visits, and thereby a generous reception. The greater the variety of foils in one place, the more renowned the lord to have welcomed guests from far and wide. In the fire's glow, the foils, too, would have glittered, the towering roof posts appearing through the smoke as pillars of shining golden light.

[bellysoupset]

Halloween Part 2 - Lucas

Halloween was Bella's favorite time of the year. She started shopping for it early, often buying things that she had no intent on using to "spook" people, but just as regular decor year around. So it was much to her pleasure when she got a text from Wendy asking if she could tag along the latest Halloween haul.

"Jon said what?" Bella asked, lazily pushing the stroller around wallmart and browsing through the spooky themed pillows.

"That I have to throw a Halloween party for Leo," Wendy repeated, hurrying up to catch up. This always happened whenever they went shopping together, Bella walked far too fast.

"Leo's birthday is in April," Bell frowned, then grabbed a pillow shaped like a pumpkin, throwing it inside the cart.

"It's not a birthday party, it's just... A costume party. He's upset that they don't get trick or treaters in their neighborhood."

"Okay, so Jon could throw a party, no?" Bella shrugged, continuing to walk, "it's not like they don't have the space. Way more than you do, to be honest."

"Leo can't know it's for him," Wendy rolled her eyes, "look, it's just Jon babying Leo. So are you gonna help me or not?"

"Sure, sure, no need to get harsh," Bella giggled, inspecting some cute mugs covered in skulls, "what do you need from me?"

"Well first off, to help me buy the decor-" Wendy dug through her purse, then raised a black credit card, "Jon's paying."

Bella let out a whistle, "alright, now we're talking!"

Wendy chuckled, putting the card back inside the purse, "and I need a band, you're the biggest music nerd I know... Can you get us a band?"

"What type of band?" Bella turned around, resting her back to the bar of the cart, "metal? Grunge?...Pop?" Her voice dripped with disdain at the last word and Wendy snorted at her unbiased reaction.

"Well, something people can actually dance to, Bella," Wen poked her side, "alternative rock?"

Bella wrinkled her nose in distaste, turning back around and starting to push the cart again, "let me think."

"Okay... Oh this is very cute," Wendy held up a plug-in lantern, with little ghosties drawn on the side. Bella agreed, barely paying attention now that she had been put on a mission.

Wen was right, she was a music nerd and participated enough in the local music scene to know bands...But an alternative rock band?

"Oh, I know that guy..." She mumbled, fishing her phone out of her jacket's pockets, "what's his name..."

Wendy raised her eyebrows, watching Bella go through her contacts list, with a laser focus, "that guy?"

"I only saw him play once..." she wasn't paying attention, "he had this long, super pretty hair..." Bella gestured to her own head, mimicking a long flowy hair, "he had a tattoo with his band's name... Something -shee..."

"Do you remember the name of the party you met him?" Wendy asked, pulling her own phone out. Bella thought about it for a second, before shaking her head.

"No, but I must have the post saved here..." she clicked around quickly, scrolling through multiple posts and then lighting up, turning her phone so Wendy could see the screen, "here!"

"On A High Note," Wendy read out loud, typing the name in her own instagram and going to the concert's page, "let's see... Cipher of Lies?"

"Nope," Bella circled her, so she could see the poster Wendy was reading the names from, "no, it ended with a shee..."

"Inferno Banshees?" Wendy guessed, clicking on the profile and then scrolling down. The main guy had long hair, like Bell had described, black with red tips.

"Yeah! That's him!" Bella pointed at the screen with such force that Wendy accidentally liked the post. She rolled her eyes, deleting the heart.

"And he's any good?"

"From what I remember, they were decent. Here, listen to this-" Bella scrolled up again, until they landed in a video post of the band performing. Wendy frowned, they were good, indeed. More than "decent", but she guessed Bell's ear was more nitty picky than hers.

"They're probably preeetty expensive to book," Wendy worried, as they moved further inside the candy aisle and she started to load up the cart. Bella let out a scoff.

"Don't worry about that," she fumbled with her own phone, checking the guy's name again in the insta bio, before switching to her texting app and Wendy squinted, noticing there was almost no text history there. Before she could say anything though, Bella was pressing the little mic icon, holding the phone close to her mouth.

"Hi Julian, it's Bells from the High Note party, do you remember me? I forgot my wallet in your room and we had lunch at the Pavillion?" she released the icon, sending the message and Wendy let out a huff.

"So he's an ex-hook up," she deduced and Bella's cheeks turned red as she shrugged.

"Don't look at me like that," she pouted, "you saw his hair!"

"I did," Wendy snorted, chuckling, "are you sure about this? I mean Luke-"

"Is a big boy and he knows I had hook ups while we were on break. Hell, I bet so did he-" she cringed at her own words and Wendy grimaced too. She doubted Lucas had slept around, "besides, that's not the point. We're married, he's an adult, he'll be fine."

"I guess," Wendy shrugged, agreeing, "but maybe tell him before hand-"

They were interrupted by Bella's phone buzzing with an income voice message and she smiled smugly, clicking on it. Julian's voice was deep from sleep, despite it being late in the afternoon, "oh hi ginger, you completely ghosted me, that wasn't nice," he said playfully, "what can I do for you, beautiful?"

"Beautiful," Wendy repeated in a mocking deep tone and Bella elbowed her side, bringing the phone back to her mouth.

"I might have a gig for you."

--------------

Lucas was not feeling well. He was having a pretty shitty week - his supervisor for Poli Sci had asked him to rework the last 30 pages of his thesis, he had to hand in extra credit in one of his History classes if he wanted to graduate alongside his class and the team had flunked hard the most recent game. It didn't disqualify them, yet, but it made their odds pretty bad for the future.

So it had been already on a very shitty mood that he had gotten the news that the lead singer of the band that was going to play in Wendy's Halloween party, the one Luke knew damn well was more of a Wendy-and-Bella shenanigan, was Bell's ex-hook up.

He had already been sulking during lunch, jamming his fork in the food while Vin and Leo chatted, but he had practically sent his filet flying when Leo said "I don't think I'd be cool if it was Jon's ex playing tonight, that's all."

"Jon doesn't have any exes," Vince rolled his eyes, "you're the only lunatic willing to date him."

"You mean I'm the only lucky one to land him," Leo squinted at Vince and Lucas glared between his two best friends.

"Whatever are you talking about? Whose ex?"

"Bells, duh-" Leo's face suddenly turned red and he cringed, interrupting himself, "oh shit, you didn't know."

"Bella doesn't have exes," Luke rolled his eyes, ignoring the throbbing behind them. He dropped his fork back down, glancing up in time to catch Vince glaring at Leo, as if reprimanding him for speaking up, "what?"

"Nothing!" Leo squeaked, still red as a tomato, "so uhm, what's gonna be your costume tonight...?"

Luke let out a huff and turned to Vince, levelling him with one cold glare, "who said Bella's ex is playing tonight? Wendy?"

"I don't know anything," Vince shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes, "ask your wife."

"Jonah and I are gonna be matching," Leo continued to speak, attempting to change the subject. Lucas let out a scoff, turning his attention back to his plate.

If he was already thinking of ditching the party, his desire now all but doubled. A wish that was promptly squished when he arrived home five hours later and found Bella already hunched over the bathroom sink, doing her makeup while sporting just panties and a strapless bra.

"I thought you said you'd be home sooner today," Bella pouted, spreading grey body paint all over her face, "get in the shower, I still need to do your makeup."

"I don't wanna go," Lucas leaned on the bathroom door, crossing his arms to his chest and scowling. Bell raised an eyebrow and he realized she had painted them a dark brown, almost black.

"Why not?"

He shrugged, not quite managing to put into words the fact his head was throbbing and his humor was soured by the prospect of her ex being the lead singer and Bella not telling him.

"I just don't wanna go," he repeated and Bella rolled her eyes, grabbing the thin eyeliner and leaning in so close to the mirror she was almost touching it, drawing fake stitches on the side of her face.

"You can't be serious, you know it's my party as much as it's Wendy's," she said, squinting to her reflection as she focused on the drawing, "get in the shower."

"So it was your idea to hire your ex and not tell me?" Lucas blurted out and Bella was so surprised by his bitter line that she missed a line. She let out a frustrated groan, putting down the eyeliner.

"What are you talking about, Luke?"

"Your ex," he repeated, "the guys told me."

"You mean Vince told you," Bell rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, "I don't have exes, you know that, babe. It's just some dude I hooked up with, it's not impo-"

"Why didn't you tell me? It was fucking humiliating to realize Vince and Leo all knew about this before I did," Lucas glared at her and he knew his headache was exacerbating his temper. He wanted to shut up, but he also just really didn't want them to go to this damn party.

"Honestly I didn't think it was important and I kinda forgot," Bella's voice had an icy undertone, "it's literally just some dude, Lucas, c'mon. You're not the jealous type, what's up with you?"

He rubbed a hand over his face, "I don't know, I don't like you lying to me."

"Lying to you," she repeated, brows raised, unimpressed, "okay, I don't know what the fuck is going on, but there was no lying. Now, I've been looking forward to this party and you know it, so if you wanna sulk home over some random ass guy I hooked up with once, then be my guest. I'm going," Bella turned back around, once again starting her make up.

Luke snapped his mouth shut, rubbing his neck. He really didn't want to go anywhere, but the prospect of Bella going alone was even less appealing. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, he simply didn't want her there at all.

"Fucking hell," he grumbled, entering the bathroom and stripping his shirt. Bella didn't spare him a glance, but she did let out a pleased noise at getting her way, which only annoyed him more.

He was not gonna let her paint him like a clown, Luke decided, when he shut the shower off ten minutes later, the hot water having dulled the headache just a bit, but the quiet minutes only making him more annoyed.

Bella was now in their bedroom, putting on the stockings that were covered in fake stitches. Her hair was down now and Luke did a double take, noticing her curls were all gone, flat ironed away.

"Alright, your costume-"

"I'm not wearing a costume," he interrupted, grabbing a random array of black items in his closet and throwing them on the bed, "this is good enough."

Bella's eyes, decorated with purple eye shadow, scanned him up and down, "you cannot be acting this childishly over a hook up," she said slowly, "we are literally fucking married, Lucas, grow up."

"I'm already going to the stupid party, I'm not gonna dress like a clown too!" he rubbed at the side of his head as the throbbing started back again and Bell rolled her eyes at him.

"You can be such a dick when you want to," she said quietly, grabbing the patchwork dress that was stretched on the bed and putting it on, "I'm leaving in ten minutes, if you're not dressed, I'm going without you."

"And I'm the dick," Luke scoffed, slipping on the black track pants.

They didn't talk at all during the fifteen minutes long drive to Wendy's place. Twice Lucas opened his mouth to apologize, twice he snapped it shut when he noticed Bella with her arms crossed and glaring out of the window.

The party wasn't in her apartment, but in the last floor of her building, where there was a conventions ballroom. Lucas had to give it to both Wendy and Bella, they had done a spectacular job decorating. It was fancy and beautiful, Wendy's job, but still spooky, with a fog machine and bats glued to the windows. All Bella.

"Looks nice," he said, hoping it was apology enough, squinting at the blue and purple lights of the room. Bella let out a scoff, ignoring his compliment.

"Bell!" Wendy rushed to her, skipping from across the room. There were some people already inside, people Lucas did not recognize at all. Other med students, maybe?

Wendy was dressed in a green mini dress, with wings coming out of her back and Bella let out a giggle, "oh hello, Tinkerbell!" she teased, pulling the shorter woman into a half hearted hug, "you look great!"

"Not as great as you do!" Wendy smiled brightly, covered in glittery body paint, "It's from that Tim Burton movie, right?"

"Nightmare Before Christmas," Bella grinned, turning around to show off her outfit and Wendy nodded in approval, then turned to Luke and frowned.

"And you are... No, let me guess, Jaso-"

"Not in the mood," Lucas cut her off swiftly and Wendy raised her eyebrows, taken back by the curt manners.

"Alright, Debby Downer himself," she rolled her eyes at him and Luke was about to snap something he knew he was going to regret, but was luckily interrupted when someone wrapped an arm around Bella's waist and twirled her around, causing her to let out a squeal.

A man dressed like a vampire put her back on her feet, smiling at her, "give me your bloood," he said in a creepy voice and Bella chuckled, stumbling back on her feet.

Luke started to feel a steady, lancinating pain behind his right eye, "Isabella?"

"Hi, sorry-" she snapped her head, then gestured between them, "Lucian, this is Luke-"

"Her husband," Lucas interjected, forcefully, offering a hand and Lucian pouted at Bella.

"Uhm, it's Julian, beautiful," he said, squeezing Luke's hand, before doing a double take, "oh wait, husband?"

"Yes, beautiful," Lucas mocked and Wendy let out a snort, planting both hands on Bell's shoulders.

"Awkward... Anyway, bye guys, we have party stuff to figure out. Julian, I need you on that stage in twenty minutes. Where are the rest of your buddies?"

"Fuck me if I know, Tink," Julian shrugged, eyes glued to Bella, so Lucas squeezed his hand a little harder in his.

"Well, figure it out and get them on that stage," Wendy said, then proceeded to push Bella forward, mixing them with the small crowd of strangers and introducing her around.

Julian dropped Lucas' hand hastily, mumbling a "excuse me," and vanishing into the crowd too, although in the opposite direction.

"Great, just great," Luke sighed, walking towards the bar.

He was nursing a lukewarm drink and trying to ignore the painful pulsing behind both his eyes, when the microphone let out a feedback noise and then Julian's voice came in, "good night, everyone," he said, smiling, "we are the Inferno Banshees, let's rock this place."

"I fucking hate musicians," Luke whispered, chugging the rest of his drink and then flinching when the alcohol hit his stomach at the same time the band started to play and the noise made him feel like he had just been punched.

The drummer was going all in and Luke could feel every beat of the song. It didn't help that the lights were strobing now, flickering between red, blue and UV lights. He let out a loud groan and scanned the crowd in search of Bella.

More people had arrived, half the football team and a bunch of people Lucas hadn't ever seen. He squinted, tugging at the roots of his hair, the vague pain doing barely nothing to distract him from the migraine.

It took him a moment to find Bella, the lack of her signature curls making him completely miss her even when she was directly in his line of sight. She had her back pressed against a blonde girl's, whose long blonde hair was styled in a voluminous blow out, clad in a sequined jumper.

Vaguely he recognized her from somewhere, he just had no idea where. Luke stumbled forward, feeling dizzier the closer he got to the loud noise. It didn't feel like music was playing at all, but rather someone stabbing him right in the temple.

"Bell," he grabbed her wrist and she looked up, blue eyes sparkling for a second, a tentative smile springing up. She thought he was going to apologize? No way.

"I'm leaving, I'm not feeling well!" he yelled over the music and Bella frowned, getting on her tip toes, not hearing him.

"What!?"

"I said I'm going home!" Lucas repeated and she frowned, pulling back.

"It's not even been an hour!" Bella yelled, just as Julian started a guitar riff and the lights all flickered red, "at least try to have some fun-"

His stomach churned, the lights throwing him for a spin. Lucas rubbed a hand angrily over his face and shook his head, "stay, I don't give a crap," he scoffed, even though he did give a crap. He really didn't want to go home alone, not when his head hurt this much, not when the singer on stage kept looking at his girl like she was his next meal.

Bella's frown deepened, "you're acting like a teenager," she said calmly, leaning in and not bothering to raise her voice, so he had to really strain his ears to hear, "I'm not leaving."

"Suit yourself," Lucas groaned, turning around and stumbling over his feet. It was getting difficult to make out which way was up and his stomach was making known just how done it was with this whole night.

He wasn't gonna make it to the bathroom, Luke realized quickly. Instead, he made a detour to the balcony area of the party, stumbling towards the railing, only to slam against someone.

His stomach jumped to his throat and as Vince exclaimed "Hey, don't run me over!" Lucas let out a sick belch and bent in half, bracing against his knees and throwing up on the space between them. He missed Vin's black boots by a couple inches, the man jumping back.

"Jesus, Luke!" Vince exclaimed, circling him and it was a good thing he did, because Lucas swayed forward and only his best friend grabbing him by the arm stopped him from face planting the puddle of sick.

"What the hell did you drink?" Vince asked, thumping his back and Lucas let out a whimper, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Nothing... Migraine," he groaned, closing his eyes and leaning against Vin's side. The other man let out an unhappy noise.

"Can you sit here for a second? I'm gonna get Bella-"

"No," Luke reached out blindly, squeezing Vince's coat. He blinked, trying to situate himself. Vin was dressed as Captain Hook, with eyeliner and all, "I don't want Bell."

Dark eyes measured him up and down and Vince let out a huff, "you two are fighting over the stupid fella? This is ridiculous..."

"Can you just drive me home?" Luke sighed, leaning in and planting his forehead to Vince's shoulder. At least he managed to conceal the lights, but that did very little to his raging migraine. Lucas knew he had only a couple more minutes sounding coherent in him and he was too proud, he really didn't want Bella now.

"She's going to tear me to shreds," Vince groaned, but then tugged on Luke's hoodie, looping one of his arms around his neck, "okay, keep your head down."

He could've cried from relief at the change of tone in Vin's voice. Luke buried his face on his best friend's shoulder and allowed him to be steered around, feet stumbling over each other, Vince's arm around his waist the only thing keeping him from keeling over.

They stumbled outside the party area and Lucas muffled a sob, swallowing against the persistent nausea, "m'hday"

"What?"

"M-head..." he groaned, pressing his forehead with more force against Vince's chest, feeling the impatient vibrations of the other man tapping his foot as they waited for the elevator, "grends"

"Green?"

"Nuuh-" he squeezed his eyes, "grenade."

"Oh," Vince let out a sigh, a hand coming to shield Luke's exposed ear, further muffling the noise, "you'll be lying down soon..."

Lucas let out a heavy sigh through his nose, gulping down the bitter spit pooling in his mouth. He was starting to feel detached from his body, head too heavy to lift it up even when the elevator stopped on their floor and Vince shuffled inside, stumbling a little with his weight.

"Mgonuke..." Lucas whined, daring to open his eyes and staring at Vin's black leather boots, "sry..."

"What?" Vince pulled back and good thing he did, because Lucas gagged again, unable to stop the mess. A dribble of bitter, watery vomit fell on the space between them and Vin let out a scoff, "are you hell bent on fucking up my boots, dude?"

"Sorry..." Luke groaned, swaying on his spot, "I'm- I'm sorry-"

"I'm joking," Vince pulled him back in, wrapping both his arms around him, mess on the ground be damned, the fact that he knew everyone in this building be damned. His best friend was hurting. Lucas sank into the hug, muffling a sob against his shoulder and Vin bit down his lip, praying the elevator came to a stop sooner.

As soon as it stopped, Luke undid Vince's hold on him, staggering forward and collapsing down with a heave.

"Luke!"

A retch answered him, followed by a whimper and more sobs. Vince closed the small distance between them, crouching down next to his friend and rubbing his back in a reassuring manner, "hey, breathe, man..." he whispered softly, supporting Luke's forehead with a hand, "take a deep breath for me."

Instead of breathing in, Lucas fell back on his heels, ass meeting the cement of the parking lot and then he slammed his fists to his forehead, causing Vince to let out a surprised gasp.

"Luke, don't do that!" he whisper-yelled, rushing to grab Lucas' wrists before he could try punching himself again, "this isn't gonna help, bud."

"Hurtsssss," Lucas cried, eyes bloodshot and his nose all congested.

"I know, I know, c'mere-" Vince grabbed his arm, pulling Luke up, "Uhm- Ah fuck... Okay, do you have your keys?" he didn't expect to get an answer and he didn't. Vin let out a heavy sigh, shoving his hand in his friend's pockets and praying he had his car keys with him, otherwise things would be tricky.

His bike was parked next to Wen's pink car, but her car keys were upstairs in her own apartment and well, he didn't feel like leaving Luke...

"HA!" Vince let out a victorious shout when he managed to fish out Luke's keys from his hoodie' front pocket, only to make the other man whimper and curl on himself, "sorry, sorry, sorry!"

He carefully maneuvered them around, getting to Lucas' green car and forcing him on the passenger seat. No sooner he had shut the door, he rushed to the driver's side and got in just as Luke was once again thumping his head, hard, against the window.

"Luke, you're going to give yourself a concussion on top of the migraine," Vince berated him lightly, pulling him away from the door, "close your eyes."

"I feel sick," Lucas answered instead of obeying, not bothering to muffle a sick belch, "Vince..."

"Shhh, eyes closed, c'mon," Vince pressed his hand over his best friend's eyes and felt him lean forward with more force, "deep breaths."

"It's like I got fucking shot in the head," Lucas slurred, before a new heaving fit caused his tears to start back up. Vince flinched in sympathy.

"I really think I should go get Bell-"

"Nuhhgh..." Lucas mumbled, bracing against the dashboard, "no, fuck no. Let her be with the fucking vampire."

"You are an idiot," Vince sighed, starting the car and keeping a hand on Luke's nape, "lean back, you'll just make it worse."

It took him a second, but then Lucas' obeyed, leaning back with a sigh, eyes squeezed shut. He wiped the tears off his face, sniffling again, "thanks, Vin."

"Don't thank me, I still haven't decided if I'm not just gonna drive you to a hospital."

TBC

[francis-writes]

Modern!AU Ramsay x reader

Maybe it will be continued. For now some silly au i wrote at 1AM.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You let out a breath. Well, meeting a kinky stranger from internet turned out to be quite a surprise, though maybe not the kind of a surprise you would enjoy.

But after all, what could you expect? You were in a rather bad mood before, so you weren't really picky while scrolling through apps, looking for a parties near or for some stranger eager to fuck you. You just hoped that non-binding, meaningless dicking down from some stranger would help you relax and cheer you up. So when you got a message from someone - 21M, signing as a master_big_dicc - you agreed to meet in two hours, even though he would probably piss you off on any other day. But, you both just wanted to fuck and he was very clear about it in his messages. He also seemed rather kinky - maybe he was just an internet dom, but he kept promising to "make you choke on him", "rip you apart with his dick", "make you crawl and beg like a filthy mutt" etc.

He gave you his address, which perhaps wasn't the safest option. But you packed a pepper gas and sent your location to friend, then left with hope for some good cock.

Now you stood in front of the house, realizing a few facts. The address you got led you to a luxurious villa which - according to the decorative plate - belonged to Roose Bolton, wealthy businessman, owner of company selling skincare products. This was the official part, but you heard that part of his money came from illegal business. If the internet stranger wasn't lying about address, it was either Roose Bolton himself (though claiming to be 21), his son Domeric or...

The door of the residence got opened and you got your answer.

Ramsay Bolton, son of Roose Bolton from some quick side fling. He moved into his father's villa just a few years ago, after being raised by his mother - in much poorer conditions, from what you heard. Well, Roose Bolton wasn't the most caring person, nor father.

You didn't know Ramsay personally, but you occasionally heard about him and his actions. Every once in a while he got arrested and freed, thanks to his father connection. From what people said, he was just typical young hooligan, drinking, getting in fights, just rich enough to get in trouble whenever he hurt someone with a knife.

Now he walked to the gate, yelling at the dogs that were jumping and howling at you since a few minutes. They obediently calmed down and ran away from the fence. You looked at Ramsay when he opened the gate for you. He was at least one head taller than you and quite bulky. You knew what to expect - he didn't sent you his face, but his profile had enough pics of his torso and dick. But you liked fat hairy guys. You were only worried if his body will be able to make you stand his personality for at least next hour.

He had wide pink lips, icy eyes, and long black hair tied in a ponytail. He wore a loose black tshirt with some metal band name on it. Ramsay looked down at you with a smirk, that seemed almost mocking.

"You're here for fucking?"

I shrugged and gave him a small smile.

"If you're master_big_dicc, then yes."

Ramsay chuckled lowly and stepped back, to let me get in.

"Come in. Don't be afraid of my bitches, i trained them well. They won't hurt you without my permission."

I walked in and he lead me through the garden to the door of the house. Without waiting, he reached his arm and grabbed my waist, keeping me close to himself.

"Well, then I hope that you won't give them that permission" i said awkwardly, trying to keep a conversation.

Ramsay just snickered again, as if i were very funny. He pushed me toward the stairs.

"Go, you will take off boots and the rest in my room" he muttered, leaning to me. "My stepmother is downstairs. I don't want her to notice you. She will keep chattering, asking if we're together and offering you cookies, and at least hour will pass before i can fuck you. And i especially didn't jerk off now, to have my dick all ready for you"

We reached his room. It was really messy, perhaps he tried to make it a bit more prepared for me but it meant just throwing all the dirty things in one place. This mess was a weird mix of some trash, cheap collections and expensive brand things. I took off my boots and sat on the bed, looking at the band posters at the wall. It was mostly metal, some punk and some posters announcing raves.

[timbrhead]

metanoia. | pt 04 - i���m not entirely here, half of me has disappeared

𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨:

>> welcome, my name is 𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐚, and ill be your scriptwriter (^‿^✿). my story will be kind of an choose-your-own-adventure story with a poll at the end of every part, where you can vote how the story continues.

This will be honkai star rail x fireader story with these elements: reincarnation, slow burn, i gave reader a proper personality (sry, not much customisation there), does not follow the original storyline

previous part <<< >>> next part

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 (this is important);

>>> none!

you were anticipating something, but this was not at all what you were expecting.

when you first saw the general, looming over you with his towering height, you thought he wasn't real. he didn't seem like someone that could exist.

his appearance fit that of a general and more. it exuded authority and wisdom from the many years he had lived, and his whole appearance demanded attention. the metal accessoires on his armour clanked with each step as he approached you, and his amber eyes widened slightly as he saw you, before a gentle smile stretched across his face.

„mei lian..."

he almost breathed out, before stepping back, urging you to sit on the seat before his desk. another servant brought a teapot to his desk, handing it to him. He grabbed a cup. „when i heard the news that you were back, i could almost not believe it. how long has it been, two months? with everything going on, i thought i had lost my dear attendant."

he said, pouring you a cup of tea. you accepted it with a bow of gratitude, smiling slightly. after that, a silence set over you two, making you lightly squirm in your seat. you didn't know what to say to the high-profile man, without making him suspicious that you weren’t the mei lian that served him two months ago. you take a sip, feeling his eyes bore into yours.

after a long, sullen silence, a soft laughter echoed through the quiet room, and he began to peel his eyes off, focussing on the documents before him.

„i'm glad to have you back, mei lian. it wouldn't be the same around here without you."

he smiled, casting one last glance at you.

„and look at you, already so eager to work for me again. missed me, huh?", he teased, before gently urging you away to fetch him some papers.

...he certainly left you dumbfounded, that was for sure.

but at least the work has proven itself not to be too hard. you mainly did some household chores for him, reporting him of the latest events on the xianzhou luofu, and sometimes even walking through the city to get errands.

occasionally, you could feel his eyes on you though. It felt unnerving, but each time you hesitantly asked if something was wrong, he would just chuckle, telling you that it was nothing. he said that he just missed you.

but you had a hunch that he was onto you, making your mind wander back to last night; where you entered mei lian's house for the first time.

———

you admit, setting a foot into a home that did not belong to you and having to pretend it was, was pretty hard.

the flat was small, cramped even, with several things scattered throughout the messy hallway. it almost felt eerie as you walked through the once lively home. you felt like an intruder as you walked further into the flat, searching for a sign of mei lian‘s family, and from the looks of it, it seemed like they all left in a hurry before they all disappeared. or died. you winced as you thought of this very possible outcome.

the apartment had two bedrooms, a kitchenette and a small bathroom, all very compact in a small space they shared. you first stepped into the first bedroom, examining it. it was split in the middle, with one half being rather plain, work documents scattered across the surface of the desk and a closet filled with clothes and shoes, accompanied by a small mirror on the wall.

the other half was a bit more decorated, with posters and drawings pinned on the wall, stuffed toys neatly set up beside the pillows. the desk was filled with calligraphy equipment and what seems to be unfinished schoolwork. You stepped a bit closer to the desk, having seen a picture frame cramped between cups filled with pens, and various notebooks stacked on top of eachother.

It was a picture of mei lian and what seemed to be her little sister. they both had a big smile on their faces, and by the looks of it, it was her sisters first day of school. she has a big schoolbag on her bag, and they were posing in front of the building. you took the picture out of the frame just in case, to identify the little sister. you cleaned up a bit, mainly sorting through mei lian’s work documents before moving on to the next bedroom.

this room belonged to a pair of twins it seemed, judging from the pictures hanging from the wall over the bed. they were both rowdy boys, with the one holding a starskiff and the other holding a spear in one photo. you pocketed this photo as well. you gaze through the room, toys scattered everywhere, and their desks filled with stationary and little trinkets.

mei lian seemed to spoil them a lot. there was no sign of their parents though, you guessed that they weren’t around, judging from the fact that not one of their colleagues said anything about her parents upon her reappearanc. you didn’t have anything better to do, so you cleaned up the mess a bit, gathering everything that might seem important on the low table in the living room. after that, you checked the fridge, your nose scrunching up at the sight of rotten food inside. It seemed like the family‘s leave wasn’t planned at all.

you eventually settled down on the couch, feeling exhausted after all what has happened. you wonder if mei lian would feel at home here. ‚probably not‘, you thought, ‚her family isn’t with her, after all‘.

you sigh at that, stepping into her room, trying to make yourself comfortable on the bed. luocha was right. it was hard, living a life pretending to be another person. you kinda wished that he was here with you now. you missed his soothing voice, and the way he calmed you down. his warmth. he was like a rock you could lean on, someone you could turn to in a time of need.

you have said your goodbye to him at a dock, with him slipping you his phone number in case of emergencies. you contemplated multiple times during your cleaning wether or not to call him, tell him that maybe you have made the wrong decision. but something always stopped you in the last moment. …no. you needed to find mei lian‘s siblings, first and foremost. you could worry about yourself later.

———

maybe you should have put more thought into this though, your mind reprimanded you as you looked into the searing golden pools of jing yuan‘s eyes.

you thought that everything went smoothly. you tended to his garden, brought him the meals the chef prepared for him, and from the looks of it, he seemed satisfied by your service. this was how most of your day had gone. but when you were just about to leave, you turn to him, wanting to ask about your siblings. you wince slightly as you were reminded of mei lian‘s words.

But before you could say anything, you were suddenly interrupted by the general.

„you…“

his voice rumbled through the now empty building, the other servants being long gone, leaving only you two here. you noticed that his voice has changed, it was deeper, more sharp. it boomed through the hall, and— you flinch back as he was suddenly behind you, cornering you against a wall.

„you are not really mei lian, correct?“

he smiled, his hands behind his back. you freeze. what was—? „i know my personal attendant. i worked with her for almost a decade, you tend to recognise eachothers character after such a long time.“ he chuckled, his eyes boring into you. you suddenly felt small, caught between a lion‘s paw. he was scary, with the way he could immediately look through you.

„so, who are you, if i may ask? i would suggest that you answer honestly, whoever you are. i won‘t be so nice again if you attempt to fool me a second time.“

his voice hardened, and you could see the lights flickering in the giant hall. you gulp—a threat from the general himself. if you didn’t play your cards correctly, you might die a third time.

you take a deep breath before answering, a poor attempt to calm down.

back on a semi-regular upload schedule! i will give my best to be as consistent as I can with these parts now.. so please don’t forget to vote on what the reader should do next!

taglist; @shadowypeachsweets

- xoxo, laina

[blueiscoool]

This 1,200-Year-Old Silver Artifact Is Stunning and Nobody Knows What It Is

The intricately decorated silver object was likely created by a highly skilled craftsperson in England

Metal detectorists have unearthed a tiny trinket covered in beautiful, intricate designs in Norfolk, England. The 1,200-year-old gilded silver artifact was likely created by skilled workers, but its purpose remains a mystery.

The strange object is about three-quarters of an inch in diameter. Found near the village of Langham, it resembles a small, crumpled cap. It’s adorned with tactile patterns and the image of an animal resembling a horse.

The artifact captivated historian Helen Geake, Norfolk’s finds liaison officer, reports BBC News’ Katy Prickett.

“It’s so tiny, and yet it was created just as carefully as something like a Bible or piece of jewelry,” says Geake, who has also appeared as an expert on the archaeology television show “Time Team.”

Based on the object’s complicated design, Geake infers that its craftsperson was “multi-talented and doing lots of different things.” The creator likely mixed imported Spanish mercury with powdered gold to create a gilding liquid, not unlike the paints used in illuminated manuscripts—handwritten books adorned with metallics and colorful drawings—made around the same time.

Geake recognizes the spiral pattern on the object’s sides from two illuminated manuscripts, both containing the four gospels of the New Testament: the 1,200-year-old Book of Kells and the 1,300-year-old Lindisfarne Gospel.

The newly discovered artifact dates to the late eighth or early ninth century. Its dominant motif, the animal carved and delicately painted on its top, could be a horse with its head turned backward, says Geake. Outlined by gold, the horse is dark brown, with dark swirling lines drawn through its body. Its face is shown in profile, with one eye visible.

“I love its color,” she tells BBC News. “A lot of the time, we don’t see the colors of the past because clothes don’t survive and enamels drop out of settings.”

The expensive materials and highly detailed artisanship suggest the object was treasured, perhaps serving a meaningful personal or religious purpose, writes the Telegraph’s Craig Simpson. One possibility, Geake suggests, is that it was once a decorative cap on the end of a staff.

Archaeological discoveries are “consistently churned up from the Norfolk soil,” according to the Telegraph. In 2022, the county reported the most treasure finds of any area in the United Kingdom.

Though many curious objects have been discovered in Norfolk, Geake says the gilded cap is “completely unlike” any other find. BBC News reports that it has been declared a treasure, and the local Norwich Castle Museum expressed interest in acquiring it, despite its unknown purpose.

“It’s a mysterious object, and you can’t say what kind of thing it’s off at all,” Geake adds. “But it was made by someone with a real eye for loveliness.”

By Sonja Anderson.