#geometric mask!?!! you mean THE geometric mask?!!

[luxerians]

The Last Mask (14)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 14 - Hide and Seek

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 15

PREV : Chapter 13

A pair of black shoes stopped just inches from your line of sight. Your chest tightened as you slowly lifted your gaze. First, you saw the polished shoes, then the neatly pressed pants, and finally the long, all-black outfit that draped elegantly yet ominously over the figure. Your eyes reached the mask: a geometric pattern of sharp angles that concealed any trace of humanity beneath it. You couldn’t see his eyes, couldn’t tell if he was looking directly at you, but the slight tilt of his head downwards spoke volumes. He was entirely focused on you.

From a side perspective, you were kneeling on the floor, one hand braced against the ground as if trying to anchor yourself while the other clutched your bleeding injury. Your shoulders were tense, your head tilted upward as you met the imposing figure’s gaze. He loomed above you, his posture perfectly controlled, exuding an authority that was both calculated and suffocating. The contrast between his unyielding stance and your vulnerable position added to the tension, the unspoken connection between captor and captive palpable in the air.

The corridor was silent, the tension in the air so thick it felt like it might suffocate you. The guards stood rigid as they waited for the next command from the black-masked man whom they called the Captain. None of them spared a glance at the dead guard whose body lay crumpled against the wall. No one dared risk invoking the Captain’s wrath.

Your wide, doe-like eyes were glued to the Captain’s expressionless, geometric mask. You felt small like a defenseless kitten staring down a jaguar. He radiated danger, a predator in every sense of the word. Fear clawed at your chest. You were a part of the rebellion, and now the leader of the guards had personally come down to corner you and your allies.

Gi-hun’s grand plan to overthrow the game management crumbled in that very moment.

The sound of a scuffle shattered the silence, pulling you from your thoughts. Behind you, there was movement, followed by Gi-hun’s voice. “Leave her alone! She’s not in on this!”

His shout cut through the heavy atmosphere like a knife, drawing everyone’s attention. But the Captain didn’t react. He remained perfectly still, his focus locked solely on you.

Your breath hitched, and you quickly lowered your gaze, unable to hold the intensity of his stare any longer. You cast your eyes to the floor, trying to collect yourself, but the unease didn’t fade. His unwavering attention was unnerving, and a small part of you couldn’t help but feel puzzled.

Why had he shot the guard who injured you? What did he mean by disobeyed?

A sharp wave of pain pulled you from your thoughts. You winced, clutching your injured arm. The wound throbbed relentlessly, and when you pressed lightly against it, you could feel the bullet lodged beneath your skin. The sensation made your stomach churn.

Though you’d looked away, the Captain hadn’t. His head remained tilted slightly in your direction, his attention fixed on you like a hawk watching prey. Then, he spoke in a commanding tone. “Check her.”

Two square guards stepped forward at his command, lowering their weapons as they approached. You stared at them in a mix of confusion and apprehension. One of them spoke in a flat tone. “Get up.”

“No!” Gi-hun shouted, trying to rise from his knees. But before he could, two guards pinned him down, holding him firmly in place. “Leave her alone!”

The Captain finally shifted his attention, lifting his gaze to Gi-hun and Jung-bae. A tense silence followed, every movement in the corridor stilled. It was as if the Captain held everyone’s fate in his hands, his authority absolute and unchallenged.

“Player 456,” the Captain’s deep, distorted voice filled the corridor, cutting through the tension like a blade. “Did you have fun playing the hero?”

The same square guard as before repeated to you. “Get up.”

You stayed kneeling, your heart pounding, as the Captain began to move. His steps were measured and calm as he circled you and headed toward Gi-hun and Jung-bae meters behind you. Concern for your friends twisted in your chest. Your mind raced as you tried to anticipate what the black-masked man might do. You turned your head to follow his movements, watching him intently as he approached them.

Stopping directly in front of Gi-hun and Jung-bae, the Captain raised his left arm. The stark white pistol in his hand caught the light as he aimed it squarely at Gi-hun’s face. The sudden gesture made you gasp, alarm flooding through you as fear for your friend overtook you.

“Look closely,” the Captain said, his tone ominous. “At the consequences of your little hero game.”

Gi-hun’s jaw tightened, his teeth gritted as he stared directly into the barrel of the pistol. You could see the tension in his body, the way he held himself still to project bravery. He didn’t want to give the Captain the satisfaction of seeing his fear. Despite this, his defiance didn’t lessen your terror. You couldn’t stand by and let him die.

“No!” you shouted, your voice breaking through the silence. Desperation filled every word. You pushed yourself to your feet, your knees shaking as you took a step forward. Before you could get closer, a square guard moved quickly, blocking your path. Undeterred, you tilted your head, craning your neck to keep the Captain in view.

“Please, don’t shoot him!” you pleaded, your voice trembling. “This whole plan was my idea, so it’s my fault. I’ll do anything!”

The corridor fell into a heavy silence. The guards stood still. Gi-hun and Jung-bae stared at you in shock and disbelief. Even the Captain paused, though his grip on the pistol remained unwavering.

“What are you saying…?!” Gi-hun’s voice rose, anger and panic blending together.

The Captain’s mask turned toward you slowly, his attention now fully on you. Though his aim at Gi-hun didn’t falter, the weight of his gaze pressed down on you, making it harder to breathe. His silence spoke volumes, and it was enough to send Gi-hun into a spiral of worry, his expression shifting to one of alarm and helpless frustration.

“Hey!” Gi-hun shouted as he straightened his posture, still kneeling but clearly trying to draw the Captain’s attention back to himself. “It was my idea! She’s lying!”

“Y-yeah!” Jung-bae added, his voice shaky, his eyes wide with panic. “She was lying!”

But the Captain remained unmoved. He didn’t even glance at them. His masked face stayed locked on you. Slowly, he lowered the pistol from Gi-hun’s face. Without haste, he turned his entire body toward you, a deliberate motion that made it clear you now had his full, undivided attention.

Your heart raced, pounding so hard you thought it might burst. Fear and vulnerability coursed through you. His presence felt all-encompassing. It's as if the walls of the hallway had closed in, leaving you exposed and utterly at his mercy. You could feel the weight of every eye in the corridor, yet it was his attention that made the air thick and hard to breathe. You had wanted to divert his focus to protect Gi-hun, but now that you had it, it felt like standing in the path of an oncoming storm.

“Among the trashes in this world…” the Captain’s distorted voice broke the silence as he began to step toward you, “…blooms a single flower.”

You froze, his words twisting in your mind, their meaning unclear but unsettling. Gi-hun’s voice broke through the tension again as he tried to rise from his knees, his movements frantic.

“No!” he yelled, his tone laced with desperation. He lunged as if to intervene, but two square guards grabbed him immediately, dragging him back down. This time, his struggle was wild and unrelenting. The guards shoved him to the ground, pinning him on his side. One of them pressed his head to the floor with brutal force, but still, he screamed in resistance, his eyes wide with fear for you.

Jung-bae, pale and trembling, stayed where he was, his hands still raised in surrender. Two guards loomed behind him, their MP5s aimed squarely at his head, ready to fire at the slightest provocation. The tension in the air was unbearable.

Gi-hun’s shouts echoed through the purple hallways. The Captain, unfazed, continued his steady approach until he stopped directly in front of you. You couldn’t look away, your eyes locked onto his masked face. He stood tall, radiating authority, while you remained standing before him, powerless and exposed.

He was the embodiment of power and control. He alone dictated the rules of this twisted game. You, on the other hand, was stripped of any leverage, offering yourself up to protect those you cared for. The unspoken tension between you hung thick in the air, every second stretching endlessly as his masked gaze bore into you.

The Captain extended his left hand, gloved in sleek black, his palm facing upward. He held it steady, hovering in the air between you two. Your gaze flicked from his hand to his mask, trying to decipher the meaning behind the gesture.

Finally, his distorted voice broke the silence. “Come with me… and I will let your friends live.”

Your eyes widened, locking onto him in shock. The weight of his words sank into you like lead.

“Don’t!” Gi-hun shouted as he fought against the guards holding him down. “He’ll hurt you! You can’t trust him! Whatever he’s offering, it’s a lie! He’ll…”

His voice cracked, his frantic movements becoming more erratic. “He’ll break you apart!”

His words stabbed at your resolve, each one a reminder of the unknown danger you might be stepping into. You could feel the genuine care and anguish in his voice. Gi-hun was more than disappointed at his plan’s failure; he was terrified of losing those he considered friends. He’d rather take the consequences himself than watch them fall on you.

Your mouth felt heavy, unable to form a response to his pleading. Instead, your focus returned to the Captain. His gloved hand remained steady, a silent invitation that demanded a response. He didn’t rush you. He didn’t need to. He ruled this place. He could wait as long as it took for you to decide.

Your heart pounded as fear coursed through you. What would happen if you took his hand? What would he do to you? Would he hurt you? Strip you of your dignity? Hand you over to his guards to face whatever cruelty they had in mind? The questions swirled relentlessly in your head, each one more horrifying than the last.

Then, the sharp sting of your bullet wound brought you back to the moment. You winced as the pain flared, a reminder of the very real danger you were already in. Your left upper arm throbbed, the blood sticky beneath your fingers where you clutched the wound.

You were scared. Terrified. But you cared about your friends even more. Gi-hun, Jung-bae, and the others mattered to you. They had become your family in this cruel, twisted game. If you didn’t act, their lives might be forfeited. That thought was unbearable.

“I will have your wound treated right away,” the Captain said, his voice calm but commanding. The unexpected offer made your breath catch, and your eyes snapped back to his mask.

You stared at him for a long moment, blocking out the noise of Gi-hun’s struggles behind the masked leader. His screams faded into the background as you wrestled with the decision in front of you. Your arms began to tremble, a sign of the terror coursing through your body.

It was at that moment that despair took hold of you, its weight pressing heavily on your chest. If Young-il were here, he would have been livid with you for even entertaining this decision. But he wasn’t here.

Grief surged through you then and there. Tears brimmed in your eyes, blurring your vision until a single drop escaped, tracing a path down your cheek. A sob broke free from your throat. The thought of Young-il – his absence, his sacrifice – slammed into you like a physical blow. He was gone. The memory of his promise to meet you outside this nightmare, should you both survive, now felt like a cruel joke. He had risked everything to protect you, and now you two would never see that promise fulfilled.

The bullet wound on your upper arm throbbed with a dull ache, but it paled in comparison to the searing pain of your loss. You’d lost him. And it was only now, standing here in this twisted moment, that you realized you had fallen in love with him. The man who had risked his life time and time again for you, who had treated you with care and respect even in this unforgiving place, was gone.

Soft sniffles and quiet sobs echoed down the corridor. Gi-hun, who had been shouting moments ago, fell silent. He looked at you, his eyes wide with understanding. He knew. He knew that it was his plan, his gamble, that had led to Young-il’s death and the deaths of others. Now, with the Captain’s shadow looming over all of you, the weight of that guilt was palpable.

The Captain, on the other hand, remained still and patient. His hand hovered between you, waiting for your decision. This enigmatic figure, who had mercilessly shot his own guard moments earlier, stood there quietly as you sobbed, giving you space to grieve. His presence was unnerving yet he offered no words, no commands. He simply waited as if time itself bent to his will.

You withdrew your hand from your face and wiped away the tears staining your cheeks. With a shaky breath, you finally managed to steady yourself. Lifting your gaze, you looked back at the Captain. His hand was still extended, his posture unchanging, as though he had all the time in the world.

Your eyes shifted to Gi-hun and Jung-bae behind him. Both of them were watching you, their faces pale and filled with dread. The terror in their expressions only deepened your resolve. You knew that if you went with the Captain, the three of you wouldn’t be shot dead. This was the only way for the three of you to survive after instigating an uprising.

Slowly, you raised your trembling hand and placed it in the Captain’s gloved palm. The leather was cool against your skin. As soon as your hand settled in his, his fingers curled around yours like the closing of a steel trap. There was no escape now.

You raised your gaze, meeting the enigmatic Captain’s towering presence. His mask remained inscrutable, hiding whatever thoughts might be running through his mind. Without a word, he turned and began walking toward the hallway behind you, his grip on your hand firm but not forceful. You followed quietly, your steps heavy with uncertainty and fear.

Behind you, the square guards followed you two in formation, their boots echoing sharply against the corridor floor. The sound of Gi-hun’s scream suddenly broke through, raw and anguished. He was still pinned to the floor by two guards, but his struggle had only intensified.

The sound made you falter for a moment, but the Captain didn’t pause. He kept walking, pulling you along with him. You frowned, realizing that Gi-hun’s anger was more than just a protest against the Captain’s actions. Perhaps he had seen you in a different light. Maybe he cared for you more than you’d realized. He had told you once that you reminded him of his late friend. Protecting you must have felt like a way to redeem himself, to make up for his failure to save his friends in the past.

What you didn’t know was that Gi-hun clung to you for a deeper reason. You didn’t just remind him of his lost friend. You reminded him of himself. By protecting you, he felt he could protect the part of himself he had lost, the part that still believed in hope and redemption. In saving you, he believed he could save himself from the guilt that had haunted him for so long.

The Captain led you down a labyrinth of hallways. At one point, you tugged your hand free from his gloved grasp. He didn’t stop you, nor did he turn his head or say a word. You were grateful for that small mercy. The thought of his touch manipulating your already fragile resolve made your stomach churn.

Behind you, the square pink guards marched in two perfect lines. Their synchronized footsteps echoed through the corridors. The uniformity of their movements spoke volumes about the Captain’s control. It was clear that his authority reached deep, dictating not just their actions but the very rhythm of their existence. This was power on a level you had never seen before, and it left a dreadful weight in your chest.

As you rounded another corner, a new figure emerged from the hallway ahead. Several square pink guards followed closely behind him, but this man was different. His mask bore the same square symbol as the others, but the rest of his appearance set him apart. His uniform, while identical in design, was entirely black, accented with bold pink stripes and a matching pink belt. He carried himself with a stern, commanding presence that was almost as unsettling as the Captain’s.

The square black guard halted as soon as he saw your group, and the pink guards behind him followed suit, stopping in perfect formation.

“Captain,” the square black guard said respectfully. “One manager and twenty soldiers have been dispatched to the dormitory to subdue the rest of them. It appears there are no backup plans for the uprising.”

The Captain stopped walking just a few feet away from them. The square pink guards and you came to an immediate halt as well. You glanced sideways at the Captain, your suspicions reaffirmed. He was undoubtedly the highest authority here, and this new figure was likely his second-in-command.

The Captain’s voice broke the silence, low and solemn. “What’s the update on the rest of the players who rebelled?”

You blinked, your attention sharpening as the words registered. He was talking about Hyun-ju, Gyeong-seok, and the others you had managed to supply with ammo.

“We had shot most of them down,” the masked officer reported in a detached tone as if he wasn't discussing the loss of human lives. “One or two managed to retreat to the dormitory and hide among the players.”

Your gaze dropped, despair washing over you like a tidal wave. More players were dead. You didn’t know if Hyun-ju and Gyeong-seok had survived, but the weight of the losses was suffocating. The uprising had failed spectacularly, leaving most of you dead.

Then another thought gripped you. All those who participated in the plan were X players. With most of them gone, combined with the losses during lights out, the Os would dominate the next vote. It was inevitable. The remaining players would be forced to continue into the next game, whether they wanted to or not.

Your thoughts shifted to your friends back in the dormitory: Jun-hee, Dae-ho, Yong-sik, and his mother. They must be terrified, anxiously waiting for news, hoping for the best but fearing the worst. What would they feel when they learned about Young-il’s death? The thought twisted your heart, and tears began to well in your eyes again.

Just as the first tear threatened to fall, the masked officer’s voice cut through the air. “Would you like us to single out those rebels and shoot them in front of the others as a lesson, Captain?”

Your eyes widened in horror. The idea was monstrous. To drag out the survivors of your team and execute them publicly for the remaining players to see? It was cruel beyond comprehension. It was an act designed to break what little spirit the players had left.

Ignoring the pain from your injury, you turned your terrified gaze to the Captain, who stood quietly, his posture as steady and unreadable as ever. His head remained slightly tilted toward the officer. The tension in the air was palpable as every guard waited in silence for his command.

Finally, in his deep, distorted voice, he said, “No. Let them. They will have their lessons by the players, the next vote, and the next games.”

You looked away, his words sinking in like a stone in water. You understood what he meant immediately. Those who had participated in the uprising would face judgment, not from the guards but from their fellow players. The X players, now devastated in numbers, would likely blame the rebels for their downfall. The bitterness would lead to harsh reprimands and isolation.

The O players would mock and deride the rebels. Their cruelty would aim especially at Gi-hun. With so few X players left, the Os might seize control of the dormitory entirely, leaving the remaining X players in an even more precarious position.

The weight of it all settled heavily in your chest. The rebellion hadn’t just failed; it had shattered any remaining hope for unity.

Suddenly, the Captain spoke, his deep, distorted voice cutting through the tense air. “Have one worker come to Room 147. Bring a medical kit.”

Without waiting for acknowledgment, the Captain began walking again, moving past the masked officer and the pink guards. The masked officer immediately fell into step beside him, though still slightly behind, a position that subtly acknowledged the Captain’s authority. Clueless, you followed behind the Captain. The rest of the pink guards fell into formation without being told.

In a matter of seconds, the Captain stopped outside an unmarked door, causing everyone else to halt as well. He turned to you and spoke directly. “Wait inside. A guard will tend to your wound.”

You stared at him, your gaze lingering for a moment before you lowered your head. Pushing the door open, you peered inside. The room was stark and simple, painted in the same monotonous purple as the hallways. It contained nothing more than a plain table and two chairs.

Before you could step in, the Captain spoke again, this time addressing the guards. “One manager will stand guard outside the door. Soldiers, arm up and prepare for the next vote.”

He paused, shifting his attention to the second-in-command. “Managers and you, head to the control room. I have a word with you.”

The underlying reprimand was clear.

With that, the Captain turned on his heel and strode away. You glanced at the masked officer, noticing the rigidity in his posture as he stared at the Captain’s retreating figure. The square guards fell in line behind the Captain, moving like disciplined soldiers toward what you assumed was the control room. For a brief moment, the masked officer stood frozen in silence before he, too, followed after them without a word.

One square guard remained by your side and said flatly, “Please wait inside for a worker to tend to your wound.”

You stepped inside, closing the door softly behind you. The room’s silence was almost oppressive, and you sat down on one of the two chairs, cradling your injured arm.

Now that you had nothing else to divert your attention to, the pain of your wound became all the more prominent. A sharper wave of pain shot through your arm. You winced. You adjusted your hold on the wound, trying to ease the pressure without worsening the pain.

It was barely two minutes before the door opened, revealing a circle guard carrying the familiar red medical kit. The guard stepped inside, setting the kit on the table before turning their masked face toward you.

“Sit still,” they instructed, their voice flat and emotionless. “Hold your arm steady.”

You nodded silently, holding your injured arm in place as the guard began laying out the contents of the kit. Antiseptic, gauze, tweezers, and a scalpel gleamed under the fluorescent light. The sight of the sharp instruments made your stomach churn, but you kept your face composed.

After you took off your jacket and lifted up the sleeve to expose the raw injury, the guard began to work on it methodically.

“This will sting,” they said before applying antiseptic. The sharp burn drew a hiss from your lips, and you gritted your teeth to keep from crying out.

As they continued, your thoughts wandered. What would your life look like now? The realization of having surrendered yourself to the Captain weighed heavily on you. Would this be your new reality? A nightmare on Earth where every action was dictated by a man who wielded absolute power? The thought chilled you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering if escape was even possible.

You glanced around the room, your eyes flitting to the door, the walls, and finally the tools spread across the table. The scalpel caught your attention. It was small, but it could be a weapon. The idea lingered. Could you really fight back? Could you find a way out of this labyrinthine hell? The questions gnawed at you.

“Hold still,” the guard reminded. You snapped back to the present, focusing on the pain as they worked to extract the bullet. The tweezers dug into the wound, sending sharp, searing jolts up your arm. You clenched your jaw, your nails digging into the armrest of the chair.

After what felt like an eternity, the guard finally pulled the bullet free. The small piece of metal clinked against the tray. Next, they applied ointment to the wound. Then, they wrapped your arm in clean white bandages, securing them snugly.

“You’re done,” the guard said simply, beginning to pack up the kit.

You stared at the scalpel, your eyes darting back to the circle guard as they moved around the room. The thought lingered in your mind. You wanted to use it. You had a plan, a desperate one, but were you willing enough to act on it? To kill someone, who had done nothing wrong to you, in cold blood? The very idea made your stomach churn.

Yes, you had killed loan sharks and triangle guards before, but you did it to protect yourself. But to kill this circle guard who had tended to your wound and had been nothing but respectful to you? You were hesitant. But your will to survive burned stronger, too. You didn’t want to be violated by any guard, the Captain, or be trafficked. Surrendering didn’t mean you consented to anything, and the fear of what might come next only deepened your desperation.

But as you hesitated, the circle guard packed the scalpel into the medical kit and snapped the lid shut. It was done before you could muster the courage to act. The opportunity had slipped through your fingers. But you felt both relief and frustration. Relief that you hadn’t resorted to violence, but frustration at the loss of a potential lifeline.

The circle guard picked up the kit and left the room without a word, leaving you alone once more. You stayed seated, your arm throbbing with a dull ache under the bandages. But the pain was secondary. Your thoughts were consumed by what awaited you under the mysterious Captain’s rule. What would he do to you? Would he make you a pawn in his twisted games, or worse? You shuddered.

Your musings were interrupted by the sound of the door opening again. The square guard who had been stationed outside stepped inside. His voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “Get up. I will bring you to another room for your next command.”

You stared at him, trying to decipher his tone. Was he implying that you were to become one of them? The phrasing of his words made you wonder if you were about to be inducted into their ranks, a thought that filled you with unease. What you didn’t know was that he was simply taking you to another holding room to wait for the Captain’s summons.

Slowly, you began to rise, your movements stiff as the pain in your arm flared up again. Before you could fully straighten, something slammed into the square guard’s back with a force that made him stumble forward. You flinched, stepping back instinctively as a single triangle guard burst into the room. The door shut with a loud thud, trapping the three of you inside.

The triangle guard attacked the square guard without hesitation, striking him with the butt of their MP5 gun again and again. The sounds of the struggle filled the small room, the square guard grunting in pain as he tried to fight back. But the triangle guard’s assault was relentless, leaving the square guard no chance to recover. Within moments, the square guard collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

You pressed yourself against the wall, your heart pounding in your chest. Your wide eyes locked onto the triangle guard as they turned their attention to you.

Who are they? Were they connected to the triangle guards who you had killed before? Those two who intended to violate you? The thought chilled you to the core. You couldn’t help but wonder if they had come to finish what the others had started. Your back pressed harder against the wall as if trying to disappear into it. You braced yourself, preparing to defend or attack if needed.

To your surprise, the triangle guard stepped backward, lowering their stance as if to show they meant no harm. “I mean you no harm. I’m here to save you.”

You frowned, your body still pressed against the wall as doubt flickered across your face.

“How can I trust you?” you asked, your voice laced with wariness. The memory of the two triangle guards who had threatened to violate you was still fresh, their words and intentions leaving scars deeper than your injury. What if this guard was just like them, luring you into a false sense of safety only to hurt you later?

They didn’t move closer. Instead, they stood their ground, hands at their sides in a gesture of peace. “Someone asked me to save you. It’s no secret to the guards that you’re here because of Captain's mercy and player 456’s plan.”

Your eyebrows furrowed further. “Who’s that someone?”

For a moment, the guard was silent, their gaze unreadable behind the mask. Then, finally, they said, “I can’t tell you who. But I can show you. You have to follow me first. They were injured during the uprising.”

Their words hung in the air, and realization dawned on you. That ‘someone’ had to be one of the players who had joined Gi-hun’s rebellion. Still, doubt and wariness still clung to you.

The guard reached into the pocket of their pink jacket and pulled out a revolver. Placing it on the table, they stepped back again.

“We don’t have much time,” they said, their tone insistent but calm. “If you don’t trust me, take this. Keep it pointed at me if you want. But we need to go. A manager or the Captain himself will come to fetch you soon enough.”

Your gaze darted between the guard and the revolver, uncertainty gnawing at you. Something about the way they spoke, their demeanor, seemed genuine. Why would they arm you if they meant to harm you? The sincerity in their actions nudged at your resolve, chipping away at your doubt.

Slowly, skeptically, you pushed yourself away from the wall. You stepped toward the table and picked up the revolver. Checking the cylinder, you saw it was fully loaded. With a small click, you snapped it shut and slipped it into your jacket pocket, keeping your hand wrapped tightly around the grip.

You looked at the guard, your expression tense. “Lead the way.”

The triangle guard stepped closer to the unconscious square guard and knelt down. They reached for the square guard’s mask and removed it, revealing a man beneath it. His face was obscured by a black headsock that left only his eyes visible.

Standing, the triangle guard moved to the door and cracked it open just enough to peek outside. After a moment of tense silence, they gestured for you to follow. Your grip tightened on the revolver hidden in your jacket pocket as you quietly followed their lead.

The two of you navigated the maze of hallways. You kept your eyes fixed on the triangle guard, observing every detail. Their figure seemed delicate, not the physique you’d expect from someone capable of taking down a square guard. It struck you then that they had used the butt of their MP5 to subdue the square guard, not their bare hands.

You noticed the guard kept glancing upward every time you two entered a new purple corridor. Following their line of sight, your eyes landed on a CCTV camera mounted in the corner of the ceiling. That’s when it hit you. This guard was carefully navigating through hallways that were free of CCTVs, deliberately avoiding surveillance.

The hallways twisted and turned, each intersection making it harder to keep track of where you were. Finally, the triangle guard halted in front of an unmarked door. They scanned the surroundings, ensuring that the area was clear. They opened the door and gestured for you to enter.

You hesitated, peering inside before stepping through the threshold. Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes landed on a familiar face.

Gyeong-seok was sitting on the floor, his back pressed against the wall. His jacket was on the floor beside him. He was only donning his shirt and pants. His hand clutched at his lower abdomen, and his face was contorted in pain. But when your eyes met, his expression changed entirely. A look of astonishment, almost disbelief, lit up his features.

He called your name with a breathy voice that was shaky but filled with relief. “You’re okay.”

Without thinking, you bounded into the room, closing the distance between you and Gyeong-seok in an instant. Dropping to your knees beside him, you reached out, your hands hovering uncertainly as you took in his condition. There was an opened medical kit next to him on the floor. The mysterious triangle guard promptly shut the door behind them.

“Gyeong-seok,” you said, your voice breaking with emotion. “Oh, God. What happened to you?”

He gave you a weak smile, wincing slightly as he adjusted his position. “It’s… a long story. But I’m glad you’re okay…”

The triangle guard quietly walked toward you and Gyeong-seok and kneeled on the other side of him. In a low voice, they said, “Let me see.”

You watched silently as Gyeong-seok withdrew his hand from his lower abdomen. There it was. A gunshot wound that had been hastily tended to, the makeshift bandages still faintly stained with blood.

“I’m okay,” Gyeong-seok said with a labored breath, his softening gaze fixed on the triangle guard. “Thank you…”

The guard didn’t respond immediately. For a moment, it seemed like they weren’t sure how to react to the gratitude. Instead, they remained silent, their body language unreadable.

“But why?” you asked, your curiosity breaking through your cautious demeanor. Your wide eyes locked onto the guard. “Why did you save us? Who are you?”

The triangle guard shifted their attention to you, their mask hiding any hint of emotion. They didn’t answer right away. Instead, they rose to their feet and turned toward the wall, their back facing both you and Gyeong-seok.

“It doesn’t matter who I am,” they said solemnly. Then, turning back to face you, they took a few steps closer and extended their hand, holding out a square mask. “Keep this.”

You blinked, confusion etched across your face, but you took the mask from their hand without protest. The triangle guard stepped back toward the door.

“Stay here and keep quiet,” they instructed, their voice calm. “I will come back in a moment.”

They cracked the door open just enough to peek outside. After ensuring it was safe, they slipped out, leaving the door ajar for a brief moment before it clicked shut behind them.

Now alone with Gyeong-seok, you turned to him, your concern evident. “What happened? Were there any others who survived?”

Gyeong-seok let out a slow, pained exhale. “The guards… there were too many of them. Everyone else… they were shot dead.”

His eyes dropped to the floor as if the weight of the truth was too much to hold. “I don’t know about Hyun-ju, though. She might… she might still be out there.”

Gyeong-seok let out another strained breath, his hand pressing lightly against his bandaged abdomen. “The guards moved in on us and we were cornered. We surrendered and I was shot.”

He paused, his gaze flickering to the floor as if trying to piece together the fragmented memories. “When I woke up, I was here. That guard… they were tending to my wound. I don’t know why or how, but they saved me.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. The revelation only deepened the mystery surrounding the triangle guard. Why would they risk themselves to help? What was their motive? You glanced back at the square mask in your hands, its smooth, faceless surface offering no answers.

“Did they say anything to you?” you asked.

Gyeong-seok shook his head weakly. “Not much. Just told me to stay quiet and rest. Then there was a command through their radio. It was about you.”

Your eyebrows shot up, the sudden detail catching your full attention.

Gyeong-seok’s expression was serious despite his obvious fatigue. “Someone was giving orders through their radio. They said that player 423 should not be shot… at all costs.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Player 423. That was your number.

“They seemed really adamant about it. It made me wonder what they’d do to you instead. Through the radio, I overheard them saying you’d been taken to a room. That’s when I asked…” he paused, gesturing weakly toward the door, “…the guard to save you.”

His words hung in the air. You tried to process everything. Why would someone order that you not be harmed? And who and why gave such an order? Questions flooded your mind, each one more troubling than the last.

“So, they agreed?” you asked in disbelief, still wondering why the triangle guard saved you out of the blue.

Gyeong-seok grimaced slightly at the ache in his wound. “They didn’t say much, just nodded and left. When I woke up again, I was here. Then you showed up.”

You sat back slightly, clutching the square mask in your hands as your thoughts raced. The pieces didn’t fit together, but one thing was clear: someone out there had decided your fate, and it wasn’t entirely in your hands anymore.

“Do you have any idea who gave the order?” you pressed in a low voice as something crossed your mind.

Gyeong-seok shook his head weakly. “No clue. But whoever it was, they had authority. The guards followed the command without question.”

You pieced it together almost instantly. It had to be the Captain. He was the one who shot the guard who had accidentally harmed you. It made sense that he would be the one giving orders to keep you alive. But why? What reason could he possibly have for sparing you?

Before you could dwell on it further, the door creaked open. You and Gyeong-seok tensed, your bodies instinctively stiffening. Relief washed over you both when the triangle guard stepped into the room. To your surprise, they were carrying two sets of hot pink uniforms.

They shut the door behind them with a soft click and stepped forward.

“Put these on,” they instructed, their voice calm but firm.

***

Firm footsteps echoed through the endless maze of purple hallways. The Captain strode forward with purpose, his long, calculated strides never faltering despite the labyrinthine corridors. Behind him, four square guards flanked him in perfect formation, their movements synchronized as if pulled by invisible strings.

The Captain’s mask remained forward-facing, his body language exuding an unshakable authority over everything. Each turn of the hallways seemed to have been memorized, as he moved without hesitation, as though the twists and turns of the corridors were etched into his mind.

Finally, he reached a door. Without a moment’s pause, he pushed it open and stepped inside. His masked gaze scanned the room. The simple space contained a table and two chairs, but it was empty. His eyes moved, landing immediately on an unconscious pink guard slumped against the wall, his mask removed and gone.

The Captain’s entire focus fixed on the guard. The tension in the room thickened as the four square guards behind him surveyed the space, their heads turning slightly but never breaking their rigid stance. The Captain’s silence was deafening, his stillness radiating an almost tangible anger.

“Wake him up,” he commanded, his voice low and sharp, carrying an edge that made everyone’s posture stiffen further.

One of the square guards stepped forward and knelt beside the unconscious guard. They patted his cheeks firmly, the repeated motion bringing him back to consciousness. The pink guard’s eyes fluttered open, confusion etched into his features. As awareness returned, he instinctively brought his hands to his face, his fingers brushing against his exposed skin. Horror dawned on him as he realized his mask was missing.

His wide eyes darted upward, locking onto the imposing figure of the Captain. The room seemed to freeze as the Captain stood perfectly still, exuding a cold, silent fury. The unmasked guard began to stammer, his words spilling out in a jumbled mess of fear and panic. His trembling voice filled the air as he tried to explain himself, knowing full well the consequences that awaited him.

The Captain silenced the stammering guard with a single, cold question.

“What happened?” he asked, his deep voice cutting through the room like a blade.

The unmasked guard pushed himself back against the wall, trembling as he tried to muster a response. “I… I was… attacked. By a-a-another guard. I got… knocked out…”

The Captain raised his left hand, his white pistol steady and unflinching. He aimed it directly at the space between the guard’s eyebrows. Without a word, he pulled the trigger, the shot echoing through the room. The guard slumped over, lifeless, as the sound faded into silence.

The square guards standing beside and behind the Captain didn’t flinch. They remained perfectly still. The Captain lowered his pistol to his side, glancing around the room calculatively. His eyes moved and searched for any clues that might reveal what had transpired. Every detail was scrutinized, every corner of the room taken in.

After a long moment of silence, he turned on his heel, heading for the door. As he exited, his voice rang out with authority. “Begin a wide search for player 423.”

The square guards dispersed immediately, exiting the room in formation. The air filled with the sound of their boots echoing down the hallways.

Soon after, an announcement blared through the facility. “Attention. A wide search is now underway for player 423. All guards are to report any findings immediately. Repeat: begin search for player 423.”

The message repeated as guards across the compound mobilized. Pink uniforms flooded the hallways, their movements swift and synchronized. Each guard methodically checked rooms, peered into corridors, and examined every nook and cranny. The tension in the air grew heavier with every passing second.

In an hour, under the Captain’s absolute order, every guard – circle, triangle, and square – assembled in the control room. The circles stood at the far back near the walls, their presence more subdued but still important. The squares took their places in front of the circles, scattered around the room and stationed near the monitors that lined the walls. The triangles, armed with their MP5s, stood in perfect formation on the central floor. Beneath them, a massive screen displayed the remaining players in the game.

In front of all the triangle guards stood the Captain. His presence itself was commanding. Although his posture seemed rigid and calm, unspoken anger still radiated from him like invisible smokes. Every guard in the room could sense it. Despite his stillness, his fury was almost tangible.

The masked officer, the Captain’s second-in-command, approached him and stopped a respectful distance away. The officer delivered his report. “Captain, a wide search for player 423 has been conducted throughout the facility. Unfortunately, there has been no trace of them. The CCTVs have also failed to capture any sightings.”

The control room fell into a heavy silence. The Captain said nothing, his masked face angled downward as if he was lost in thought. Every guard seemed to hold their breath, waiting for his reaction. The sound of the monitors quietly buzzing was the only thing breaking the oppressive stillness.

Then, after a minute of agonizing silence, the Captain finally moved. Slowly, deliberately, he began to walk in a wide circle around the room, his footsteps echoing against the polished floor. He didn’t look at the triangle guards lined up at the center that he was circling around. Instead, his focus was on the square guards standing by the monitors. His masked face turned toward each one as he passed. It was impossible to tell where his thoughts lay. The weight of his presence pressed down on everyone in the room.

You swallowed hard in anxiety. Behind the square mask you wore, your eyes followed his every movement with laser focus. You were stationed beside a monitor in the second row starting from the center.

Your disguise was meticulously planned by the mysterious yet kind triangle guard who had helped you. Before the assembly, they had instructed you to take a position at any unmanned monitor. These monitors, now vacant, were left without operators due to the deaths of their original handlers during the uprising.

As the Captain’s slow, deliberate pacing brought him closer to you, the tension became unbearable. His movements were calm, but his presence was suffocating. Finally, his gaze seemed to finally land on you. His pace didn’t change, but his mask turned toward you, the pointed stare unmistakable even through the emotionless square of his mask.

Your breath hitched as realization struck. He knew. He knew you were there, disguising as one of them. But he didn’t know which one of the square guards in the room it was. But how does he know?

The Captain continued his walk around the room. His masked face turned toward each square guard he passed. When he completed his circuit, he returned to where he had initially stood and stopped. He cast his gaze downward, his posture rigid and commanding.

The silence in the control room was stifling. Every guard stood frozen, waiting for the Captain’s next move. No one dared to speak or even shift in place as the oppressive atmosphere pressed down on everyone present.

Finally, his second-in-command broke the silence. “Captain, would you like to conduct a second search?”

The Captain remained still, his silence stretching on for what felt like an eternity. His head remained angled downward, as though he was contemplating the suggestion. The room held its collective breath, the tension almost unbearable.

After what seemed like an eternity, the Captain lifted his head, his mask facing forward. “No.”

A wave of relief rushed through you, so sudden and overwhelming that you almost swayed where you stood. Behind your square mask, you felt a flicker of hope. He’d given up, you thought. He’d abandoned the search for you. You couldn’t let your relief show, but inwardly, you were delighted.

But the Captain wasn’t finished. His next words shattered your fleeting sense of safety.

“She wishes to play sumbakkogjil (hide and seek). Very well,” he said, his tone carrying a certainty that sent a chill down your spine.

Your relief gave way to a gnawing unease, the weight of his statement settling over you like a storm cloud. He wasn’t giving up. No. He was willing to play with you.

NEXT : Chapter 15

PREV : Chapter 13

Story Masterlist

Please feel free to leave comments and feedback about my story, the characters, the "you", and practically anything! I love reading your comments, especially long ones! It motivates me a lot! So what do you think about the Captain and his overall character writing? Do you feel his dark and ruthless presence? Did I do a good job writing it? What do you think about "you" lying and offering yourself up to the Captain in exchange for Gi-hun and Jung-bae's life? Because of that, the Captain finally gave you his full attention. He then asked you to come with him. What do you think he would do to you once you accepted? And Gi-hun was so distraught about you being taken away. What do you think of it? Next, what about the conversation between the masked officer and the Captain? They talked about the update on what had happened to Hyun-ju, Gyeong-seok and others. Then, what do you think about you considering to kill the circle guard but you were hesitant? Does that show what kind of person you are? Suddenly, a mysterious triangle guard appeared and attacked the square guard who was guarding you. Who was it and why did they save you and Gyeong-seok? Do you like this path of aftermath I took? What do you think about the the Captain being quietly pissed off and told everyone to do a wide search for you? Now, how does he know about you disguising as a square guard? Lastly, what do you think about the ending where you unknowingly started a hide and seek and it's just a special game between you and him?

Leave a comment on the masterlist post to be added to the taglist.

[weatherera]

“A geometric mask hangs from [the mannequin’s] head.”

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader: Space Oddity, Part 1

In my ongoing quest to write more self indulgent reader inserts, I present to you: Weird Reader.

Sorry guys, but in school I played with the girls who pretended to be Warrior Cats, and ate lunch with guys who unironically did the Naruto run. The only thing separating me from this reader in this story is the fact that I mask in public and unmask at home.

[Chapter Two]

***

“You want me to play D&D with you guys?”

You watched with suspicious eyes as Mike Wheeler and Dustin Henderson nodded frantically, stirring the sweet, syrupy dessert of fruit cocktail in your lunch tray compartment. Staring at you was like staring at a taxidermy raccoon: you were dead eyed, but still positioned as though you could jump out and give someone rabies.

If he had been asked at gunpoint, Mike would have admitted that you were a last resort choice.

“Yeah…” Mike said cautiously, trying not to stare directly into your eyes.

Dustin smiled, leaning forward.

“You like D&D, right?” He tried, hopeful.

Everyone they had asked in Hawkins High had so far said no to subbing in for Lucas Sinclair, and Mike had balked at the idea of even thinking of asking you when they got rejected for the fifth time. You were even worse than the freaks of Hawkins High. The collective student body had come together as one to declare that you were a weird, mean bitch.

“I like what I’ve heard of it…” you mumbled, “I never played it before…”

Dustin’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Really?” He asked, his geometric pattern button up nearly dipping into his open can of chocolate pudding, “Never ever? So you’d need to be taught?”

Before you could venture an answer, Mike pulled him back.

“Could you-… Could you just excuse us please? Thank you.”

You nodded slowly while Mike dragged Dustin away to a corner of the bustling lunchroom. While they conversed in hushed whispers, you sat there alone, the students sharing your space giving you a wide berth at the head of the lunch table.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” Mike hissed at Dustin, “You’re going to ask The Bitch to play, and she’s never even played D&D before?!”

Mike knew the stories. Robin had once asked to borrow a pencil from your jubilee of pens you kept in the pocket of your shortalls. Reluctantly you agreed, and then you had a meltdown when she took the flat contractor’s pencil with the He-Man sticker on it. Steve had told any of The Party who would listen about his encounter: even Eleven could perfectly recite the story about the weird girl who had flat tired Steve in the hall every day at 9am when he walked by Mrs. Click’s class, ruining the backs of his brown suede moccasins so often that his mom stopped replacing them after a while. His description of the perp matched you exactly.

Even Mike on his first day of school had been subject to your oddities. A casual lunchtime stroll found him tripping over a trap, made of plastic milk crates and dead branches you’d constructed by the football field. The encounter ended with him being subjected to your twenty minute screaming lecture on why it was rude of him to wreck the “houses” you’d made for the skinks that darted around the concrete walkways.

Mike Wheeler hated you because of reputation, but Dustin knew better than to fall victim to heresy. He had seen the drawings of dragons, daleks, dinosaurs, wolves and mermaids on xerox paper you had left behind once in the lunchroom. When he found you to give them back (you didn’t say thank you), he’d been gifted with a drawing a day later in his locker: a very detailed Spock giving the Vulcan salute, “Live Long and Prosper” written underneath in bubble letters above your loopy cursive signature. He still kept it taped to his Geometry folder.

“Dude, yes! Chill out!” Dustin hissed back, looking at you fondly from a distance, “You remember what Eddie said? ‘Find the little lost sheepies that need us’. Look at her, man. Doesn’t that scream little lost sheep to you?”

They turned to look at you simultaneously. After looking both ways to check the coast was clear, you commandeered Dustin’s abandoned chocolate pudding. Spooning the syrupy peaches, pears, pineapple, and single half of maraschino cherry of your fruit cocktail inside, you mixed the chocolate and fruit together. Lathing up the leftover pudding with your tongue, the spoon was licked clean before you tossed it vaguely into an indignant girl’s creamed corn, but she was too afraid to yell at you while you were armed with chocolate.

With great relish you began eating your concoction with your fingers.

Mike grimaced while Dustin just laughed.

“She’s perfect.” Dustin gushed, “And you should see her drawings, they’re badass!”

“Just because she’s a gross weirdo who’s good at drawing doesn’t mean she knows jackshit about tabletop games!” Mike growled, nearly gagging when he saw you mop up the leftover pudding in the can with your bread roll, “You bring a beginner into Hellfire Club, Eddie’s gonna blow a goddamn gasket! He’s already on the warpath because of Lucas’ championship game tonight, can you imagine what he’ll do when we bring in The Bitch?!”

“Mike, relax. Eddie’s not going to know she’s a novice. Everyone still flips through the handbook, they won’t notice if she does it. We’ll give her a crash course, I’ll even let her borrow my Player’s Handbook so she can come in looking like she at least knows the basics. And if Eddie does get pissed we can just… ease him into the idea that a succulent babe wants to play with him.”

Dustin made the shape of a curved figure with his hands, while Mike looked ready to punch him in the groin.

“You think he’s going to fold for a fat girl?” Mike snarled.

“… Shut up Mike,” Dustin said, immediately protective of you, “He’s going to fold for a cute girl. Look at her! Soft arms, round face, thick thighs… Eddie’s gonna lose his goddamn mind, man! That’s like his ideal type.”

They continued to argue back and forth, finally coming to a grudging resolution when Dustin dragged Mike back by the shirt to your lunch table.

“If this goes to shit, I know where you live.” Mike hissed quietly.

“Shhhh!” Dustin slapped Mike’s arm before looking back at you with a dopey grin.

You were staring down both of them, eyes flicking from Dustin to Mike. The empty pudding cup can was sitting exactly where it had been once full before, but the pop top was gone, and you were pretending like you hadn’t just gone to town on an unholy concoction.

“I made a decision.” You said suddenly.

The two freshmen looked at one another, before leaning in closer. Mike looked skeptical, but Dustin’s grin was nearly splitting his face in half.

“I’ll play with you guys.” You said after a few seconds.

Dustin couldn’t help but fist pump into the air, nearly tipping over backwards on his chair while Mike just grimaced like he was about to puke. An imperfect smile with chocolate teeth flashed at the boys, and you were just about to speak when Mike stopped the party.

“Okay, listen… if you’re going to play, you’re going to have to put in the work, it’s not like playing Monopoly.” He said, staring you down, “This is serious shit.”

You closed your mouth, head tilting to the side.

“Oh… I thought it was like, making your own characters and pretending to be them and stuff.” You said.

“It is, but it’s a lot more nuanced than that. Our Advanced D&D campaigns are different. We play very combat heavy sessions, we use actual strategy in battle. It’s not a goddamn tea party.”

“And Eddie takes the rules very seriously…” Dustin chimed in, “So we’ll have to familiarize you with the basics.”

“Eddie!?”

Both boys jumped back as you banged your hands on the table, getting up close and nearly crawling on top over to them. The students sitting next to you collectively jumped, the metal legs of their chairs scraping and making a horrid screech against the linoleum flooring.

“You mean… you’re talking about Eddie The Freak, right?” You hissed under your breath.

“Eddie Munson.” Dustin corrected, frowning when you called him a freak, “He’s the dungeon master of our club… of Hellfire Club.”

Your eyes widened, and your chest began to rise and fall rapidly.

“You’re right though. That is the very same freak.” Mike cut in, lowering his pitch hoping that feeding into the negativity would scare you away, “He’s a dick to newcomers. You might get the boot if he finds out we brought you in without having any background knowledge of D&D.”

His words made you shrink back, looking at your lunch tray and the little mess of chocolate you’d unknowingly splattered on your clothes. Dustin could have killed Mike, while the latter just looked smug.

And then… you began to giggle.

“Okay…” you smiled.

“Okay?!” Mike and Dustin repeated.

Mike managed to speak up while Dustin was still picking his smiling jaw up off the floor.

“You’re sure you still want to play?” Mike asked, panicking as he pulled out all the stops to get you to quit, “Eddie is not a patient guy with new players, he’s going to rip you to pieces and sacrifice you to the devil!”

You nodded quickly, breathlessly hyperventilating.

“Yeah…! I… If Eddie Munson is running the game… I really wanna play.”

Dustin gave a high pitched giggle of his own and shook Mike’s shoulder, absolutely loving the way your face broke out into a goofy grin. You didn’t even flinch at Mike’s attempts to scare you.

“You got a thing for him or something?” Mike ventured cautiously.

“Yes.”

You answered so unabashedly, with no hesitation, that for a minute it actually endeared you to Mike. Who knew that The Bitch of Hawkins High was actually a human being with wants and needs?

“Wait… are you serious?” Mike asked.

“Uh huh…”

You giggled, biting your lower lip and covering your burning face.

“I think… I think he’s really hot…”

If they had been drinking Tab, they would have spit the liquid out all over you.

“You think Eddie’s hot?” Dustin wheezed.

“Yeah… um… I’ve had this like monster crush on Eddie since I was in fifth grade. He did like this talent show and played the guitar real good, and he’s all loud and funny and crazy and I think he’s got a real charming smile…”

The cadence in your already deep contralto was lilting into a mezzo soprano the more you talked about their sadistic dungeon master, and you were rocking side to side in your plastic chair while Dustin and Mike just watched you make a complete ass of yourself.

This probably would have turned into two hours of blabbing, had not Mike refocused you and Dustin and begun to actually lay out the basics of TSR’s Advanced Dungeons and Dragons. No time to lose, back to business. If you were going to play with Eddie you had a lot of catching up to do. They had a spare set of dice, and Mike helped you roll for stats as Dustin began to write out a crude character sheet for you based on your imaginative ideas.

“We can probably make you a character very quickly.” Mike said, flipping through his own Mead Composition notebook as he checked past characters that had died valiantly in battle, “I have one you can use. Barbarians are stupid easy for first timers since you’re just hitting shit with a sword-...”

“I want a character based on my story I’m writing!” You exclaimed, and then you subjected Mike to your brief (lie) synopsis of one of many witchy characters who was cursed by a dark goddess.

It took a lot of adjusting and words that held no meaning to you, like “Domain of Trickery” and “Cleric of Shar”. The two freshmen helped you settle on a character that would be deemed useful for Hellfire’s campaign, and made sure to force feed you every rule and spell that Gygax and Arneson had conceived for your chosen class. True to his word, Dustin let you borrow the Player’s Handbook he carried with him at all times when the bell to conclude lunch rang out. You took it with promises that you’d give it back when you met them outside of the drama room later after school, already burying your nose in the pages when you walked off to your class.

The boys saw a different side of you that possibly no one else in the school ever had: a familiar side, a human side. A side that was brutally honest and sometimes a little mean, but just as vulnerable and relatable as anyone else. A consensus had been reached during their shared English class: you were definitely weird, but actually pretty smart and imaginative. Possibilities of keeping you on as a permanent member were being discussed when Dustin and Mike found you hiding behind the lockers just outside the drama room around three pm.

“What are you doing?” Mike asked.

You shook your head, clutching your fat trapper keeper to your chest and handing Dustin back his Player’s Handbook.

“Eddie’s in there…” you muttered, chewing on the spine of your trapper keeper covered in duct tape

“Yeah, he usually gets there with Jeff, Gareth and Frank really early, to set up the map and the dice towers.” Mike nodded.

From the rectangular slat of a window, one could see Gareth and Frank meticulously setting up Jenga pieces and miniatures on top of a slab of butcher paper marked in sharpie, janky cindrilical tubes painted to look like castle towers were set up at each place at the table (the dice towers, fashioned from Pringles cans, cardboard, glue and paint). Eddie and Jeff were deep in conversation, plugging in lamps and electric candelabras left over from the drama club’s last production of ���Pride and Prejudice’. Inside the mood was almost holy, reverent (or like Eddie liked to call it: a softcore porn on Valentine’s day mood), and the boys couldn’t help the eagerness as they went to the door.

You, however, stayed firmly planted behind the lockers.

“What are you doing?!” Mike hissed, “Come on! We’re gonna be late because of you!”

“I don’t wanna go in…!” You snapped back, suddenly shy.

Mike looked at Dustin, ready to destroy him, while Dustin tried to talk you down.

“Hey, hey! Come on, it’s okay. Don’t worry! You have a good character, and if you need help you can just sit with me and Mike-…”

“But what if he doesn’t like me?” You protested.

“I swear to you on my mother that Eddie is going to love you.” Dustin said, trying to calm you down, “You’re great. You actually came with a character to play, and he’s going to be so happy that a girl is showing interest in his hobbies.”

You were about to turn tail and leave when you felt an iron grip around the meat of your bicep, pulling you forward with an unnatural strength born entirely of Nerd Rage.

“Oh hell no!” Mike said, pulling you kicking and protesting towards the door, “You’re not doing this to me right now god dammit! You’re going to get your ass in there, and you’re going to play! I didn’t sit through lunch listening to your weird edgy character backstory just so you could pussy out at the last minute! Now get your ass. In. NOW!”

With a harsh shove, you flew into the drama room – tripping on your own two feet trying to catch yourself – and spilling the contents of your trapper keeper all over the ground. Strong hands caught you before you face planted into the floor, holding you steady.

“Easy, easy!” Called out a familiar voice, “Goddamn... What the hell was that for, Mike?! You could’ve broken her nos-…”

Eddie Munson’s voice trailed off, and the boys watched as their fearless leader, their metalhead bard, began to stare open mouthed slack jawed at you.

“You told us to find a lost sheep.” Mike snarled, “So here she is.”

[amerricanartwork]

Some little Ancients I designed last night! I decided to finally give it a go and practice drawing them for the first time, and I'm really happy with how these two turned out! I thought capturing the complexity of their designs and the geometric nature of their masks would be a lot harder, but honestly it was pretty fun to just somewhat absentmindedly add whatever on them!

Generally I tend to break the Ancient designs into 2 categories: the "street style" ones which feature more modern clothing (namely t-shirts and sneakers) and the "antiquated" ones with more traditional outfits. Here I just did one of each for practice.

Also, here's the full page below, with some initial concept notes for how I plan to portray these guys:

As you can see, my love of anthropomorphism means that even though these guys are humanoid, I will still find a way to make them animal-like!

[justaragdollysblog]

Abstragedy fic and my life is yours! (Abstragedy is gangle x zooble <3)

YEP coming right up! I love getting writing requests shdbdbdbvdhhhh

————————————————————

The air was warm outside the tent-but not unpleasant as the gang embarked on an adventure, if it could be called that.

Caine had explained to them that they were to catch butterflies scattered around the grounds. Five of each color, he explained, even though there were only two colors of butterflies.

Caine had paired Zooble and Gangle together, leaving Pomni with Kinger, and Ragatha with Jax. Zooble was a little grateful to not be paired with the rabbit, and Kinger could barely contain his excitement at the bug themed activity.

It truly was a beautiful simulated day. There was a soft, chill breeze to offset the warmth, and the grounds seemed…brighter. Happier.

Zooble walked with Gangle, who, miraculously, hadn’t broken her comedy mask yet. “It’s so nice out!” Gangle giggled, as the digital lake softly lapped at the shore.

Zooble shrugged a little. “I��guess it’s one of Caine’s better creations. I wish we didn’t have to do lug around this stupid $&@%ing net, though.” They had each been given a net, that was unnecessarily heavy.

Gangle had a thoughtful look on her mask. “I’m glad it’s nothing too crazy.” She said softly. Zooble saw her bring a ribbon hand to her mask, and knew she was thinking of when it might break.

Zooble was about to say something when an orange butterfly flew next to them. It was like a monarch, but not quite. “Zooble, our first butterfly!” Gangle squealed.

Zooble huffed a bit and heaved the net over their shoulders, but the butterfly cleverly evaded capture, floating away instead.

“$&&@!” Zooble swore, frustrated. It didn’t help that lately, whenever they would look at Gangle, their pessimistic attitude would falter. Like they would start…enjoying it here. And that terrified them.

Zooble simmered when they felt a papery hand on their shoulder. It was like their frustration was a harsh fluorescent light, and someone turned them down to a warm glow. It was Gangle.

“That’s okay, Zooble. We can try and get some more! I’m enjoying the adventure regardless.” The pile of ribbons spoke softly yet kindly.

Their antenna twitched. “Yeah, you’re right.” They couldn’t stop their voice from softening. “Gangle, I…gotta tell you something.”

Gangle was a bit surprised. “Of course. What is it?” Zooble looked back toward the tent. Ragatha and Jax were still nearby, taunting the doll with a centipede. “Can we go…a bit further away?” The geometric shape pleaded, voice quiet now.

Gangle felt a pang of worry run through her ribbons. “Of course!” She scanned the area, deciding on the lake’s shore. She and Zooble sat on the sand that bled out into the body of water.

Gangle waited with bated breath. She knew Zooble had a hard time with emotions and opening up, as did all of them. She didn’t want to rush them into telling her anything.

Speaking of shapes, Zooble stared into their reflection in the water. It was about a minute of anticipated silence. Gangle was about to ask if Zooble was okay, when:

“I like you. A lot.” Zooble blurted out.

Gangle had a surprised look, but even that’s an understatement. “Do…do you mean you…” The ribbons whispered. Zooble nodded their triangular head.

Gangle smiled softly, and not just because of the mask this time. “Zooble, I do too. I love you.” That seemed to shock them, because they stood up straight and looked into her eyes, looking for any sign of sarcasm or hesitation.

But there wasn’t any. And Zooble gently took her ribbon hands in their mismatched limbs, and looked up again. “You do…?”

Gangle giggled a little and nodded. “I do! And…I’d like to be with you, if you want to…” Zooble laughed a bit. Gangle barely ever heard them laugh. “Of course I do. I wouldn’t be telling you this if I didn’t.”

Gangle had a smile that reached her eyes, and felt safe as she held a ribbon over Zooble’s clawed hand. It was the closest they could get to hand holding, anyways.

Gangle’s heart swelled with love and peace, as they watched Jax chase Ragatha with another centipede. She giggled a bit. “It’s a nice day.”

“Yeah,” Zooble agreed, an ever so gentle hand on her ribbon shoulder.

“I guess it is.”

——————————————————————

WOOOOO hope u liked it!! reblogs are MUCH appreciated!

[s-b-party]

Ena, HooH, and Xipe: Overseers of Balance

****Honkai star rail/Penacony including 2.1 spoilers ahead****

With 2.2 livestream today [I didn’t watch the livestream on the day it came out so this was written without knowing what was coming out soon but also….THE NEW BOSS????], I wanted to take a closer look at 3 Aeons in particular for this thread bc of the similarities between their concepts & also to look at possible roles/connections in the story of Penacony in particular

Since I normally analyze pairs of Aeons & this time we have 3, I’ll briefly introduce the 3 then I’ll talk about them in detail while trying to connect them to each other & the story

First is Ena, the Aeon of Order; they were absorbed by Xipe during the Swarm Disaster; they had a faction that followed them called the Beyond the Sky Choir which eventually stopped when they were absorbed

The second is HooH, the Aeon of Equilibrium; currently they are alive, their faction is the Arbitrators

The third is Xipe, the Aeon of Harmony; they are currently alive & their faction is the Family in Penacony

From Ena’s entry, we see they have a human-looking face or mask with an inner body that seems to encompass space & stars, giving off mostly blue & purple colors while their face, limbs, accessories, and veil have a white & gold palette; their arms have strings coming out from them which presents them like a puppet; another feature to note is the eye that appears besides them which has a gold outline and a blue and purple iris

Their symbol is represented by the icon of an eye, referring to the open eye that is present behind them in their art, with abstract shapes behind it; at first glance the symbol might not mean much when we look at it & it might look simple bc it’s just an eye but I feel that there may be more to it

The 3 circles & 3 sharp points are arranged in a way that doesn’t look randomized where if we were to divide it in half vertically, it would be balanced

Why does this matter? Mainly bc Ena is the Aeon of Order but what exactly does that concept mean? Order can be defined in a few different ways depending on context but in this case, Ena’s concept is related to the idea that things are arranged or done in a particular way, method, sequence, etc. of which we see an example in the dev log as explained by Herta

She states that she doesn’t like Ena’s personality as a “control freak” but rather their concept or at least how the universe followed the Order

In the case of planets & civilizations, under the Order they would first prosper for a time before coming to an end; this would be the cycle that was followed consistently as it is natural for civilizations to rise and fall

Going back to the abstract shapes, I want to bring up the Rule of Three, which applies to many situations but the general rule involves three things that make something effective, satisfying, ideal, etc. As we saw, the icon had three circles & three pointed ends but they were arranged specifically to make the whole symbol not very chaotic, thus it can be satisfying to look at

Interestingly we see 3 being involved in their faction, the Beyond the Sky Choir: the dev log which mentioned a “three-dimensional framework” & the curio called the Triangular Drum-roll Device

HooH the Equilibrium has a face w/ a body consisting mostly of geometric shapes, giving them a sort of blocky appearance; their body swirls & twists in a round circle which converges towards the center where we see two orbs(?) that are blue & orange while their two hands are clasped together in the center

When we look at their overall design, we can tell that they exhibit some form of balance; their name is exactly symmetrical since it can be split into Ho & oH; when it comes to their physical design, they have what we could consider, for simplicity’s sake, both “positive” & “negative”

Let’s pretend that positive is represented by the white tiles & negative is represented by black tiles, you can reverse the situation & it’ll still apply: the positive & negative tiles balance each other bc there is enough of both positive & negative that they would cancel each other out, creating a sense of balance

The symbol of HooH is well represented by a balance scale, often used for measuring & comparing the weights of objects to see if one is lighter, heavier, or equal in weight to another

Equilibrium as a concept refers to the idea that two opposing things cancel/balance each other out, creating something called “sum zero”; the implication of equilibrium is that things in life are divided by two as opposed to any other number

Herta talks about HooH in a dev log regarding how long they’ve been around compared to other aeons while also pointing out how they focus on duality

Now we have Xipe the Harmony who has a human-like body w/ 3 faces on a single head, long hair, purple skin, a dress that encompasses space, a ring of rainbow colors behind their head, and puzzle pieces floating around their form

Their symbol is quite abstract when we look at it as a whole

It is similar to Ena’s symbol where we had those abstract shapes in the background which came out to be 3 circles & 3 sharp points; here is a similar situation where the shapes are repeated 3 times in a circular fashion (it reminds me of the mitsudomoe, it’s the symbol that has 3 tomoe going around the central point of focus)

As of this point I’m not sure if the shapes themselves actually refer to/mean something specific to Xipe but I think something to point out is that the “commas” act differently based on whether they’re in the forefront or the background

The ones in the front don’t seem to interfere with any of the outer shapes on the same layer as them; however when we look at the background, the commas seem to cross into the other shapes next to them

Now what exactly is Harmony? The concept itself is when everything comes together in a single thing to create something unique or something that is typically good; for example we use harmony in music to refer to when notes or instruments are played together to create a coherent/cohesive song but we can also use harmony to refer to other things like life; in other words, harmony is a synonym for unity

Next we’re going to look at connections to each other & to the story; these 3 Aeons have varying degrees of involvement in the story as well as with each other; HooH seems to have very little connection to the other two so there isn’t rlly much I can say about them for the time being aside from their supposed involvement in the Swarm Disaster & the end of Tayzzyronth which we find in the simulated universe

However Ena & Xipe are much more connected both to each other & to the story when compared to HooH

Ena & Xipe are quite similar which makes sense considering that their concepts were fairly similar which ended up with the former getting absorbed (to clarify on their concepts, Order is the specific way to arrange or place things while Harmony focuses on fusing or combining things to bring about peace or good)

In terms of design, I would argue that they share similar color palettes, mainly cool colors (purple, blue) w/ a side of warmer colors on other features (Ena’s accessories & veil, Xipe’s halo)

Another similarity that I can see is their connection to music

Both Aeons received praise through songs through their respective factions, Beyond the Sky Choir & the Family; now that I think about it, perhaps the “commas” in Xipe’s symbol are actually supposed to be music notes in the world of HSR? I wouldn’t be surprised if they write music notes differently from what we would expect

Now in terms of their connections to the story I’ve heard theories of Ena being possibly connected to Gaiathra Triclops, the Mother Goddess that is mentioned in the most recent Trailblaze quest (****the next part about Gaiathra Triclops is mostly just me entertaining some ideas & pointing things out that I want to note, take w/ a grain of salt); I don’t think they are the same bc there are a few discrepancies that can be pointed out but maybe Gaiathra Triclops is an aspect of Ena that physically manifested

It is explained that Avgins do not follow the Aeon belief system but we also don’t know the exact origins of the Mother Goddess so what if she came from an Aeon? Aeons are the origin of concepts so it doesn’t seem far fetched to suggest that “minor”/sub-gods(?) could possibly come from them

We know that even if an Aeon dies, sometimes they leave behind remnants of themselves that still exist in the current time (e.g. Tayzzyronth & Swarm Disaster) so I don’t think it’s impossible for a similar situation here

We hear that Gaiathra Triclops is depicted as a left palm w/ 3 eyes & Ena does have 3 eyes in total if we count the one in the background; interestingly she is described specifically to be often depicted as a LEFT palm so are there any other manifestations of Ena possibly depicted as a right palm or just another body part in general?

Speaking of eyes, many have pointed out that the eye in the background has a striking resemblance to Aventurine’s eyes

The irises & pupils don’t look the exact same but it feels more of a design choice bc Aventurine’s eye shapes help to establish a sense of mystery/suspicion when it comes to his character; other than that the purple/neon pink outer ring & inner blue ring do match

If the Mother Goddess inherited the same eye from Ena, it could possibly explain how the Aventurine got the same eye despite Ena having been gone before the Sigonian incidents; I know the timeline of events are a bit cloudy so it’s not all clear but it just seems way more than a coincidence to me that Aventurine has the same eye colors as the one that appears besides Ena but I’ll leave my musings there

Now Xipe is the one who has a much more prominent presence in Penacony’s story compared to the other two Aeons

Even before entering the world we are made aware of Xipe’s ties to Penacony & its history; Penacony used to be a desert planet that acted as a prison which was owned by the IPC; the IPC eventually lost control of it due to Nanook & the residents of Penacony became members of the Family under Xipe

In terms of the Trailblaze Mission itself, we never see Xipe in person but we do see two notable instances of (extensions of) Xipe’s powers in the story: first is when we enter the Dreamscape & Robin helps us get accustomed to the new environment through tuning; second time is when Sunday invokes their power on Aventurine during the interrogation

In both cases we get the rainbow aura reminiscent of Xipe’s halo around our screens, for the MC we seem to have less of a problem whereas Aventurine suffers the entire time he’s under the influence; this reminds me of our clockwork ability which is essentially direct emotional manipulation (Clockie is most definitely sus, no question about it)

To me this change in how the extensions of Xipe’s power can go from harmless to dangerous is representative of Penacony’s storyline; it looks like a normal peaceful resort at first glance but then we learn about the darker aspect of the Dreamscape aka the memes that have appeared & untold dangers

To end this off, I do want to reiterate how Ena, HooH, and Xipe are interesting representations of different aspects of balance if you could tell based off my title for this thread; my main reason why I bring this up is bc Nanook is presented or framed as the main antagonist of this game bc of their nature as the Aeon of Destruction and the intention/goal is to stop them supposedly…

Therefore I am curious of whether we will see Xipe, HooH, and just the other Aeons in general play a bigger role in this plot of somehow stopping Nanook or if they’ll leave them be bc that is simply their nature; they are all beings who follow their own concepts & ideals so they do what they feel is right based off of their own values

If we are to consider what is balance in this universe, destruction would be the opposite of preservation which is represented by Qlipoth but we also can consider Yaoshi to be their opposite since they help grow life wherever they go

We also were somewhat expecting the Annihilation Gang to make an appearance during the story but we learned that they disbanded after Ifrit was killed by Acheron; does this mean that we won’t really see them again? We also know that Nanook doesn’t really like how the Annihilation Gang operates bc they see their sadistic desire to destroy as “impure” so it seems almost like we’re left hanging when it comes to them

I know that we are still in the Penacony arc so this might not be addressed at the moment but I’m still interested in seeing how the overall plot involving Nanook will play out 👀

[l0rdgeosupport3rr]

18+!!!

Tags: Zhongli x reader, non-con, dubious con, vaginal sex, anal sex

( 7/12/23 UPDATE: PART 2 )

Planet Befall

in the midst of all the carnage, there’s only one thing in your mind.

you failed. you failed to protect your country, your home. the fading screams from your fellow countrymen, the iron stench of blood—they’re not quite getting to you yet. all that’s running in your mind is that you failed, you failed, you failed.

you don’t know where your captain is, but with all the dead bodies surrounding you, none of them have a head of hair quite as light as dainsleif, which could mean he’s still out there. there’s a modicum of relief in your chest, but it’s not enough to drown everything else out.

your mind doesn’t quite clear, but finally, finally the smell of blood and rotting bodies is getting to you. if the guilt of your failure to protect khaenri’ah wasn’t enough to sicken you, surely the smell would finish the job.

‘i’m sorry to you guys…i failed as your second in command and the protector of khaenri’ah.” you faintly whisper, you notice that you’re kneeling on the ground. you look at your sword and wonder, ‘would it be worth it to keep going? do i still have a purpose if my country is no more?’

your grip tightens around your sword as you attempt to ground yourself—if you can’t at least do the job you and the rest of the knights were assigned to do, you can at least use whatever remaining strength you have to fight to the bitter end.

you don’t know what happened to the rest of your squad. worst comes to worst, they were annihilated like the rest. you and dainsleif, whose exact whereabouts are currently unknown, are the only ones remaining, and as much as you want to cry, you can’t.

you snap out of your thoughts and feelings, and you slowly get up from the ground. ‘why does my sword feel heavier than usual? am i having second thoughts?’ you notice you’re trembling. from fear? despair? it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t deter you from picking up your sword and pointing it at the figure in front of you.

morax. he was massive compared to you, clad in white with accents of gold and black. his exposed arms are the color of obsidian and fade into gold, geometric lines embellishing down the skin.

this… this is an archon. an archon—one of those who destroyed khaen’riah like it was nothing. you start to shake again, but this time it’s out of rage.

he lets out a dark chuckle as he looks down at you, and it only serves to fuel your anger. “this is getting interesting...” he muses, and his amber eyes glow with curiosity.

without thinking, you lunge at morax and ready your sword to strike, but he doesn’t even flinch when it hits him square in the chest. instead, the sword shatters, and your eyes go wide in shock. before you can even react, he reaches his arm out, grabbing your neck and lifting you up. you cough, kicking your feet as you struggle to get out of his grasp, that in return only made him grip harder.

“insolent brat. you dare disrespect the almighty geo archon?” he asks while squeezing your neck. your coughing grows erratic and when you see your hands are around his wrist, you notice the size difference. your smaller hands try to pry his larger hand off your neck, but he replies by squeezing even harder. he stares at you with a scowl.

he relinquishes his hand from your neck, leaving you to fall. you land on the floor with a loud thud, followed by your gasps for air, and you feel sweat bead at your forehead.

morax stares at your heaving form, laughing maniacally. “ah, you mortals are so interesting and so weak and so… inferior,” he states with an amused tone. you slowly get up from the ground, still heaving.

despite knowing your efforts will be futile, you take out your dagger and throw it at morax. the damn bastard dodges, but you consider it a minor victory when the dagger grazes his cheek. morax takes his hand to touch the fresh wound, then retracts it from the wound to bring it into his sight. his eyes go wide with anger as soon as he sees the golden blood on his fingers, and amber irises dart over to you.

“a mere mortal dares to do this to an archon?!” he extends his arm and backhands you, hard. his slap causes you to fly a few meters back, and to fall unceremoniously to the ground. a familiar copper taste floods your taste buds and you lightly rub your cheek before spitting out the blood.

“seems you’re not so mighty now, archon. it seems that you’re the inferior one,” you sneer. enraged, morax picks up the dagger next to him and stalks toward you, clutching it tightly in his fist. You frantically try to scope back when you notice the figure enclosing the distance. unfortunately, morax teleports next to you, causing you to scream. he stops your attempt to escape with a foot on your chest, pinning you harshly to the ground. you coughed again as a response, and morax only presses down on you harder. you closed your eyes and turned your head to the side, suppressing your screams so you don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing you’re in pain.

“that’s no fun,” he presses his foot harder into your chest again.

you gave in and you screamed.

“music to my ears,” he laughs while twisting his foot into your chest with a big maniacal grin. finally, he stops twisting his foot around and takes it off your chest, and drops down on his knees.

but then, he gets on top of you, and your blood runs cold, immediately fearing the worst. “get off me!” you yell in desperation.

morax ignores you, dragging the dagger down your shirt, from collar to hem. his large hand grabs your ruined shirt and rips it from your body, and tosses it aside. out of reflex, your arm moves to cover your chest, but morax is faster—he pins your arms with one huge hand above your head. you squirm around in his hold, and he brings the dagger towards your chest and cuts your bra, discarding it as quickly as he did your shirt.

he withdraws the dagger from your chest and places it on your cheek before leaving a cut, causing you to wince. his tongue peeks from his lips, and morax leans down to your face, his breath hot against your skin. you can feel him lick the blood slowly oozing from the wound, and your face contorts from disgust.

you spit at morax, “archon scum, you’ll never break me.”

“you little shit,” he snarls, “you need to be taught a lesson on respect.” morax moves away and tosses the dagger aside. with that same hand, he grips your scalp, nails digging into your skin. he forcefully lifts your head up as he rises to his feet so that you’re on your knees while he stands above you. you fight against morax’s strength, despite the futility.

“the more you fight against me, the more i’ll want to snap you in two,” he grins as he peers down at your struggling form. “your thrashing is useless, yet it’s amazingly entertaining.” morax pushes down his pants and pulls out his flaccid cock.

you desperately claw at morax’s wrist, trying to free yourself. this only serves to enrage him more as he forces your head up to face his cock. you grimace at the appendage and instinctively you move away from his cock, but he stops this by pushing you closer to it.

“you have one job, knight of khaenri’ah. suck my cock and make me hard so i can defile you.” he orders you, his grin from earlier replaced by an apathetic gaze.

“fuck you, i’ll never let that happen! i’ll kill you and all the other archons!” you spit.

“my, my, what a dirty mouth you have on you,” he sneers.

he takes his cock in his hand and drags it across your face, chuckling darkly all the while. you hold back your tears of frustration while being humiliated, keeping all the words you still want to hurl at him all to yourself—you know there’s no point in wasting your breath.

morax’s amber eyes fill with a mixture of lust and hatred while staring at your half-naked, smaller form. as he drags his cock against your face, you can feel it start to harden. you feel a wet sensation smeared across your lips, and you cringe at the newfound feeling on your face.

‘is that precum?! this depraved archon is getting off at this cruel behavior?!’ you internally scream. morax smacks his cock across your face, snapping you out of your thoughts. this… foreign feeling of his hardening dick plopping across your cheek makes you want to cry but you can’t give in. you can’t.

no matter how used you feel right now, no matter how filthy he’ll make you feel once he’s done with you, you can’t—you won’t give him that satisfaction.

‘i must do this for khaenri’ah. i must be strong for my country and my fellow knights. i can’t let this dishonor me,’ you think to yourself, and the thought alone brings you a sliver of comfort.

another slap pulls you to the present moment—this time, however, it’s harsher and you notice his cock is fully hard. morax lets go of your hair to push you to the ground, and he presses his large hand onto your chest. he materalizes a dagger out of thin air with pure geo energy.

“these have to go now,” he places the dagger tip on top of your pants, and slowly drags it down, just as he did with your shirt and bra. without thinking, you kick the dagger out of his hand in an attempt to preserve your dignity in the names of the royal knights and khaenri’ah.

in response, he angrily rips at your pants, then your panties. “the knights didn’t teach you manners, did they?” he asks rhetorically.

you try to close your legs, the last barrier between him and your virginity and dignity, but he pries them open with ease. he gives his cock a few pumps while lining up at the entrance of your slit. a stream of desperate, “no, no, no!” and pleas of begging falls from your mouth as you dig your nails deep into the ground to move yourself back. your fingertips are bleeding from the harsh friction.

morax steadies your hips with a grip harsh enough to leave bruises. “ah-ah-ah, no running away, little knight,” he taunts you with a sing-song voice. he moves you to the tip of his cock, before forcing himself into your entrance.

with a pained cry, you thrash underneath him and swat at his hands, but it does nothing to deter him as he continues to push into you.

you scream and thrash for your captain, hoping and wishing to see him magically appear to save you from morax. ‘captain… help me… please!’

“so tight,” he grunts through gritted teeth. you scream and yell as tears swell in your eyes, and you continue to scream until your voice becomes hoarse. you can feel it as blood trickles down your legs, and through your blurred vision, you can see the gold, white and black colors of the archon hovering above you.

you hate him. you hate him. you hate him.

morax groans with satisfaction as he finally bottoms out, and you feel so full.

so full, so wrong. so dirty. this can’t be happening.

without giving you time to adjust, he begins to move, and the cruel bastard starts slowly, like he’s stretching this out for as long as he can. you groan from the pain of the stretch.

“this is the tightest pussy i’ve ever had in all the women of this godforsaken nation.” he mutters against your neck before biting, eliciting another pained noise from you, and you note that his teeth are sharper than any normal man’s. he sucks and licks onto the area until he can see a hickey form; once he’s satisfied, he moves around your skin, leaving a trail of hickeys and bite marks in his wake.

‘did he do this to other women too…?! how despic- ‘ before you can even finish that thought, he delivers a hard thrust. you can’t stop yourself from squirming, trying to keep your mouth shut.

“oh? nothing to say, little knight?” he taunts. “when did you get so shy all of a sudden, darling?” his large hand captures your breast and gives it a firm squeeze, causing you to squeak. he continues to fondle with your breasts and plays with your nipple until it hardens, in which he hums in satisfaction. at some point, he leans down towards the nipple and sucks on it. another mewl escapes you, and he harshly bites the pebbling skin.

your cunt tightens around him, and morax groans, “such a little whore for khaenri’ah, despite being a virgin.” he lets out a haughty laugh as he places his hand on your neck and aggressively thrusts. you notice his pace is getting erratic.

“i’m so close, already, i’m gonna cum in you and dispose of you like the trash you are.” a pang of fear hits you square in the chest, but before you can cry out, his grip around your neck tightens. you start to cough, your lungs squeezing for air.

morax’s breathing starts to get heavy and you notice him heaving and slowing down. “take my seed you filth,” he snarls, loosening his grip on your neck, and you try to thrash, but to no avail. no, no, no, if he cums inside, you’ll—!

“not inside! stop!” you cry, shaking your head, but it’s too late; morax stills and you feel his cock twitch inside of you, flooding you with an unfamiliar warmth. you feel your tears swelling up before falling down your cheeks as he cums inside you.

no, no… you feel so full…morax lazily thrusts a few times to empty himself out into you. he pulls out, his cock still hard and covered in your blood and fluids and his semen. a mixture of blood and cum trickles out of you, pouring on the ground beneath you.

“i’m not confident that you learned your lesson in respect just yet” he spreads your pussy open to see his results, and you can hear him click his tongue, unsatisfied.

“brats like you must be taught respect,” he takes his cock and positions it against your asshole.

‘no! he’s not going to do what i think he’s going to do, right?! do archons just have a lot of energy…?!’

“morax, please have mercy—” you’re cut off by the feeling of his tip pushing into your ass. you sharply inhale and try to close your legs.

morax lets out an annoyed sigh. “did you not learn anything whatsoever from the last round?” irritated, he pries your legs apart and puts you in a mating press, your thighs flush against your chest.

“put me down!” but he cuts you off again, forcing himself inside your ass. you let out a scream and tears stream down your face. you sob as morax forcefully pushes inside to bottom out. morax bottoms out and groans. he starts moving immediately and you beg him to stop, but as always, your pleas fall on deaf ears.

he covers your mouth as he continues to thrust into your ass. “that’s better,” he muses, and his pace continues to speed up.

‘is he about to cum again?! that quickly?!

suddenly, he slows down to angle at a certain spot inside of your anal walls. your groans of discomfort are muffled by his hand.

“i think you’re getting better at showing me the respect i deserve, brat.” he says, and you profusely nod your head, not out of genuine respect but from wanting this to be over quickly. your eyes are red from crying, stains of dried tears and snot all over your face.

“say you like getting fucked in the ass by morax. say it! say it little khaenri’ahian,” he grits. out of defiance, you remain quiet underneath him, giving him a glare.

irritated, morax pushes your thighs against your chest even closer so he can go deeper inside of you, angling his cock in a way that makes you moan lowly, the glare disappearing. a small low chuckle reverberates from his throat.

“so it seems you do enjoy being used huh? you’ve served your purpose well.” you lay beneath him, looking fucked out because of him.

morax peers down at you, triumphant at his success at breaking you. “this is the result of godless arrogant nations who think they’re better than us.” he snarls in between thrusts. “the heavens will fall upon you and wreck havoc.” he continues to thrust at that particular angle, causing a string of mewls and moans to fall from your lips.

your voice is hoarse from moaning, screaming and yelling, and you don't have anything to lose at this point. you’ve accepted your fate, whatever that is, and you accepted khaenri’ah and its people, history, culture, and even you will be forgotten. that you failed your duty and your people and friends, and most importantly your captain.

‘dainsleif…’

these thoughts make your tired, irritated eyes produce more tears. you’re brought back to the painful reality by a familiar twitching feeling inside of you, followed by the feeling of fullness and warmth. morax, once again, lazily pumps himself a few times make sure to empty himself. he remains inside your ass, and you can feel his cock soften within your walls.

he pulls out, his cum spilling out of your holes. your pussy and ass twitch from the emptiness and the stretch of the geo archon’s cock. morax collects himself as you lay there, putting his flaccid cock inside of his pants without much ceremony. you close your eyes and mentally say your last goodbyes and apologies and you embrace death with one final sigh.

i’m sorry. live on, captain.

you feel him put his larger hand over your neck. he states “ mortals never fail to amuse me with how easily they can break. even the strongest ones like yourself.” he gives your neck a squeeze, and just like that, he snaps it like it’s nothing. that is the very last thing you feel.

humming satisfactorily, morax leaves a gold geo symbol on your mangled neck before getting back up and walking away from your corpse.

…

dainsleif is the one who finds your lifeless body. eyes wide in horror, he rushes over to your corpse and notices the dry snot and tears stained onto your face, your misshapen neck, the marks left on your soft delicate body, your torn and scattered clothes around the area. the smell of iron and copper, along with the smell of lingering sex, hits his nose, and he realizes.

you had faced off against an archon, and paid the price for it. dainsleif bites back his tears as he looks down and sees the mixture of drying blood and cum between and on your thighs. he was too late—if he had been minutes earlier, he could have saved you.

dainsleif starts to shake, feeling the tears rolling down his face. he bends down and leans in to whisper to your body, “i’m so sorry that i failed to protect you.” he places his forehead on yours and closes his eyes, and as caresses your cold hand, he notices the ring he gave you as a gift for your promotion into second-in-command was gone. you were so careful with your belongings, so that would mean…

‘which archon would do such a despicable thing to you?’ he ponders.

a short while later~

dainsleif’s face was pale, eyes red from crying, voice hoarse from screaming and yelling in anger from his failures. he hears footsteps approaching, but doesn’t react even when they increase in volume. the steps stop behind him.

“who’s there?” he asks in a hoarse quiet tone, and a short blonde boy walks over.

“is that…?!” he asked in shock, materializing a khaenri’ahian royal guard flag in his hand. he clutches his hand with the cloth in it and he bends down to dainsleif, clapping his hand on his shoulder. “i’ll take care of her. i’ll be gentle.” he says in a gentle manner. he gives his shoulder an empathetic rub. the boy seems apologetic for his loss.

“i’m sorry that this happened…” the boy starts, “but you have to be strong for yourself and khaenri’ah. [name] wouldn’t want to see you like this. we both know she didn’t deserve this, and i promise we’ll get revenge against the monster who did this to her.”

dain nods. “thank you, aether.” he reluctantly lets you go and aether gently guides him away from you. he materializes a flower out of thin air, using his abyssal power—an inteyvat.

dain places the flower down next to your cold body, and both bend to cover you with the cloth. while covering you up aether noticed a faint small glowing geo symbol on your mangled neck and his eyes widen with realization, then rage.

‘did the geo archon do this?!’ after an eternity of internal battle of debate, aether decides not to tell dain to save his feelings, and his and [name]’s dignity. to save whatever pride of khaenri’ah was left.

they both get back up after dainsleif places the flower on top of your covered body. “here, [name],” he says softly, “my one last gift to you, it’s your favorite flower.” he gives your covered face one last caress and gets back up.

aether bows his head as a sign of respect, and both remain silent for a moment, staring at your covered body with the flower on top. “we’re sorry for failing you and khaenri’ah. i swear i will one day bring this nation back to the glory it once was.”

both men walk away from you, letting you rest peacefully.

—

“…and that was apart of the reason why your sibling wanted to join the abyss order.”

“wow… we’re really sorry to hear that, dainsleif, we didn’t know that happened to you.”

the floating girl solemnly says, and the blonde female traveler next to her had a sympathetic look on her face after hearing the story.

“...it’s all in the past now,” dainsleif quietly says with a thin lined lipped expression, then falls silent and looks down at the sumeran soil. the blond traveler, lumine, realizes that dainsleif needs to be left alone right now.

“let’s give him some space, paimon. i’ll go buy you some snacks.” lumine says softly, beckoning to paimon with a hand before turning back to dainsleif.

“we’ll be back later! thanks for everything, dainsleif.” paimon waves at him. “[name] was so lucky to know a reliable guy like you, ad may she rest in peace. we’re here for you if you need anything.” she and lumine notice a small smile across dainsleif’s face.

while walking around for the snacks she’d promised her companion, lumine stops at a flower shop and looks at a particular bouquet of flowers. the flowers are white and have five petals, but in each flower, one of the petals is a pale blue.

‘those are the ones dainsleif described,’ she thinks, and she decides to purchase them. then, after some more walking, lumine pipes up.

“hey, paimon, you know the ring dainsleif described that he gave [name]?”

“yeah! wasn’t that the ring mr. zhongli was wearing? how did he even get that, and should we even tell dainsleif? doesn’t he deserve the closure of finding out who did that to her?”

“of course he does, but we have no proof besides knowing about the ring. if we do that we could be endangering him and ourselves. he needs to find that out on his own.”

“oh…” paimon frowns, crossing her arms.

“one thing that bothers paimon is that how could an archon do that stuff to a mortal? even though khaenri’ah was a godless nation… poor [name]... she didn’t deserve that.”

both lumine and paimon are sick to their stomachs just thinking about it. silence befalls them and leaves a lingering thought in their minds: ’what else has been erased or altered from history? and what else do we not know about teyvat?

paimon waves her tiny arm in the air. “dain, we’re back!”

dainsleif turns to them and nods, acknowledging their presence.

“we got you something,” lumine holds the flowers to him, and shock flashes across his face.

“are these…” he takes the flowers from her gratefully. “thank you traveler and paimon. would both of you like to come to the ruins of khaenri’ah with me and place these on [name]?”

“aww, of course, dain! we would love to!”

the three arrive and walk to the spot dainsleif described having found your body. the makeshift shroud is tinged from age and fairly dirty with some holes, but otherwise it seems to be in semi-good condition. lumine and paimon pay their respects from afar while dain puts the flowers on top of you.

“paimon wonders how your brother dealt with the fall of khaenri’ah…” paimon says sadly.

lumine is silent, looking over at dainsleif’s crouched form over you before glancing over at paimon, then back at the khaenri’ahn ruins. she recalls her time in sumeru, inazuma, liyue and mondstadt, then ponders over her future adventures. throughout this train of thought, one singular thing stands out in all the jumbled feelings and thoughts, echoing loudly.

‘who is the true enemy in tevyat? and the journey aether mentioned that he partook in… is this the journey he talked about? and am i on the right side of history? what is the truth of teyvat? and most importantly, will i ever see aether again?’

[gemsofgreece]

Can you make a post about the evolution of Greek art from the ancient times until now in modern age?

Because we often talk about the evolution of art but unfortunately we don't appreciate after ancient times the other art movements Greece went through the centuries.

That’s true! I am sorry for taking ages to answer this but I don't know how it could take me less anyway hahaha I made this post with summaries about all artistic eras in Greek history. I have most of it under a cut because with the addition of pictures it got super long, but if you are interested in the history of art I recommend giving it a try! I took advantage of all 30 pictures that can be possibly attached in a tumblr post and I tried to cover as many eras and art styles as possible, nearly dying in the process ngl XD I dedicated a few more pictures in modern art, a) because that was the ask and b) because there is more diversity in the styles that are used and the works that are available to us in great condition in modern times.

History of Greek Art

Greek Neolithic Art (c. 7000 - 3200 BC)

Obviously, with this term we don’t mean there were people identifying as Greeks in Neolithic times, but it defines the Neolithic art corresponding to the Greek territory. Art in this era is mostly functional, there are progressively more and more defined designs on clay pots, tools and other utility items. Clay and obsidian are the most used materials.

Clay vase with polychrome decoration, Dimini, Magnesia, Late or Final Neolithic (5300-3300 BC).

Cycladic Art (3300 - 1100 BC)

The art of the Cycladic civilisation of the Aegean Islands is characterized by the use of local marble for the creation of sculptures, idols and figurines which were often associated to womanhood and female deities. Cycladic art has a unique way of incidentally feeling very relevant, as it resembles modern minimalism.

Early Cycladic II (Keros-Syros culture, 2800–2300 BC)

Minoan Art (3000-1100 BC)

The advanced Minoan civilisation of Crete island was projecting its confidence and its vibrancy through its various arts. Minoan art was influenced by the earlier Egyptian and Near East cultures nearby and at its peak it overshadowed the rest of the contemporary cultures and their artistic movements in Greece. Colourful, with numerous scenes of everyday life and island life next to the sea, it was telling of the society’s prosperity.

The Bull-leaping fresco from Knossos, 1450 BC.

Mycenaean Art (c. 1750 - 1050 BC)

Mycenaean Art was very influenced by Minoan Art. Mycenaean art diverged and distinguished itself more in warcraft, metalwork, pottery and the use of gold. Even when similar, you can tell them apart from their themes, as Mycenaean art was significantly more war-centric.

The Mask of Agamemnon in the National Archaeological Museum of Athens. The mask likely was crafted around 1550 BC so it predates the time Agamemnon perhaps lived.

Geometric Art (1100 - 700 BC)

Corresponding to a period we have comparatively too little data about, the Geometric Period or the Homeric Age or the Greek Dark Ages, geometric art was characterized by the extensive use of geometric motifs in ceramics and vessels. During the late period, the art becomes narrative and starts featuring humans, animals and scenes meant to be interpreted by the viewer.

Detail from Geometric Krater from Dipylon Cemetery, Athens c. 750 BC Height 4 feet (Metropolitan Museum, New York)

Archaic Art (c. 800 - 480 BC)

The art of the archaic period became more naturalistic and representational. With eastern influences, it diverged from the geometric patterns and started developing more the black-figure technique and later the red-figure technique. This is also the earliest era of monumental sculpture.

Achilles and Ajax Playing a Board Game by Exekias, black-figure, ca. 540 B.C.

Kroisos Kouros, c. 530 B.C.

Classical Art (c. 480 - 323 BC)

Art in this era obtained a vitality and a sense of harmony. There is tremendous progress in portraying the human body. Red-figure technique definitively overshadows the use of the black-figure technique. Sculptures are notable for their naturalistic design and their grandeur.

The Diskobolos or Discus Thrower, Roman copy of a 450-440 BCE Greek bronze by Myron recovered from Emperor Hadrian’s Villa in Tivoli, Italy. (British Museum, London). Photo by Mary Harrsch.

Terracotta bell-krater, Orpheus among the Thracians, ca. 440 BCE, The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Hellenistic Art (323 - 30 BCE)

Hellenistic art perfects classical art and adds more diversity and nuance to it, something that can be explained by the rapid geographical expansion of Greek influence through Alexander’s conquests. Sculpture, painting and architecture thrived whereas there is a decrease in vase painting. The Corinthian style starts getting popular. Sculpture becomes even more naturalistic and expresses emotion, suffering, old age and various other states of the human condition. Statues become more complex and extravagant. Everyday people start getting portrayed in art and sculpture without extreme beauty standards imposed. We know there was a huge rise in wall painting, landscape art, panel painting and mosaics.

Mosaic from Thmuis, Egypt, created by the Ancient Greek artist Sophilos (signature) in about 200 BC, now in the Greco-Roman Museum in Alexandria, Egypt. The woman depicted in the mosaic is the Ptolemaic Queen Berenike II (who ruled jointly with her husband Ptolemy III) as the personification of Alexandria.

Agesander, Athenodore and Polydore: Laocoön and His Sons, 1st century BC

Greco-Roman Art (30 BC - 330 AD)

This period is characterized by the almost entire and mutually influential merging of Greek and Roman artistic expression, in light of the Roman conquest of the Hellenistic world. For this era, it is hard to find sources exclusively for Greek art, as often even art crafted by Greeks of the Roman Empire is described as Roman. In general, Greco-Roman art reinforces the new elements of Hellenistic art, however towards the end of the era, with the rise of early Christianity in the Eastern aka the Greek-influenced part of the empire, there are some gradual shifts in the art style towards modesty and spirituality that will in time lead to the Byzantine art. During this era mosaics become more loved than ever.

A mosaic from the island of Kos (the birthplace of Hippocrates) depicting Hippocrates (seated) and a fisherman greeting the god Asklepios (center) as he either arrives or disembarks from the island. Second or third century CE.

Introduction to Byzantine Art

Byzantine art originated and evolved from the now Christian Greek culture of the Eastern Roman Empire. Although the art produced in the Byzantine Empire was marked by periodic revivals of a classical aesthetic, it was above all marked by the development of a new aesthetic defined by its salient "abstract", or anti-naturalistic character. If classical art was marked by the attempt to create representations that mimicked reality as closely as possible, Byzantine art seems to have abandoned this attempt in favor of a more symbolic approach. The subject matter of monumental Byzantine art was primarily religious and imperial: the two themes are often combined.

Early Byzantine Art (330 - 842 AD)

The establishment of the Christian religion results in a new artistic movement, centered around the faith. However, ancient statuary remains appreciated. Most fundamental changes happen in monumental architecture, the illustration of manuscripts, ivory carving and silverwork. Exceptional mosaics become integral in artistic expression. The last 100 years of this period are defined by the Iconoclasm, which temporarily restricts entirely the previously thriving figural religious art.

Mosaics in the Rotunda of Thessaloniki, 4th - 6th century AD.

Macedonian Art & Komnenian Age (843 - 1204 AD)

These artistic periods correspond to the middle Byzantine period. After the end of the Iconoclasm, there is a revival in the arts. The art of this period is frequently called Macedonian art, because it occurred during the Macedonian imperial dynasty which generally brought a lot of prosperity in the empire. There was a revival of interest in the depiction of subjects from classical Greek mythology and in the use of Hellenistic styles to depict religious subjects. The Macedonian period also saw a revival of the late antique technique of ivory carving. The following Komnenian dynasty were great patrons of the arts, and with their support Byzantine artists continued to move in the direction of greater humanism and emotion. Ivory sculpture and other expensive mediums of art gradually gave way to frescoes and icons, which for the first time gained widespread popularity across the Empire. Apart from painted icons, there were other varieties - notably the mosaic and ceramic ones.

Paris Psalter, 10th century AD. Prophet Isaiah from the Old Testament in the company of the symbolisms for night (clear inspiration drawn from the ancient deity Nyx) and morning (Orthros, not to be confused with the mythological creature).

Palaeologan Renaissance (1261 - 1453)

The Palaeologan Renaissance is the final period in the development of Byzantine art. Coinciding with the reign of the Palaeologi, the last dynasty to rule the Byzantine Empire (1261–1453), it was an attempt to restore Byzantine self-confidence and cultural prestige after the empire had endured a long period of foreign occupation. The legacy of this era is observable both in Greek culture after the empire's fall and in the Italian Renaissance. Contemporary trends in church painting favored intricate narrative cycles, both in fresco and in sequences of icons. The word "icon" became increasingly associated with wooden panel painting, which became more frequent and diverse than fresco and mosaics. Small icons were also made in quantity, most often as private devotional objects.

Detail of Anástasis (Resurrection) fresco, c. 1316–1321, Chora church, Constantinople (Istanbul) (photo: byzantologist).

Cretan School (15th - 17th century)

Cretan School describes an important school of icon painting, under the umbrella of post-Byzantine art, which flourished while Crete was under Venetian rule during the Late Middle Ages, reaching its climax after the Fall of Constantinople, becoming the central force in Greek painting during the 15th, 16th and 17th centuries. By the late 15th century, Cretan artists had established a distinct icon-painting style, distinguished by "the precise outlines, the modelling of the flesh with dark brown underpaint, the bright colours in the garments, the geometrical treatment of the drapery and, finally, the balanced articulation of the composition". Contemporary documents refer to two styles in painting: the maniera greca (in line with the Byzantine idiom) and the maniera latina (in accordance with Western techniques), which artists knew and utilized according to the circumstances. Sometimes both styles could be found in the same icon. The most famous product of the school was the painter Domenikos Theotokopoulos, internationally known as El Greco, whose art evolved and diverged significantly in his later years when he moved in Spain and was involved in the Spanish Renaissance, and though it often alienated his western contemporary artists, nowadays it is viewed as an incidental early birth of Impressionism in the mid of the Renaissance’s peak.

Icon by Andreas Pavias (1440-1510), Cretan School, from Candia (Venetian Kingdom of Crete). The Latin inscription suggests the icon was meant for commercial purposes in Western Europe. National Museum, Athens. (Source: https://russianicons.wordpress.com/tag/cretan-school/)

Crucifixion (detail), El Greco (Doménikos Theotokópoulos), ca. 1604 - 1614.

Heptanesian School (17th - 19th century)

The Heptanesian school succeeded the Cretan School as the leading school of Greek post-Byzantine painting after Crete fell to the Ottomans in 1669. Like the Cretan school, it combined Byzantine traditions with an increasing Western European artistic influence and also saw the first significant depiction of secular subjects. The center of Greek art migrated urgently to the Heptanese (Ionian) islands but countless Greek artists were influenced by the school including the ones living throughout the Greek communities in the Ottoman Empire and elsewhere in the world. Greek art was no longer limited to the traditional maniera greca dominant in the Cretan School. Furthermore, the Heptanesian school was the basis for the emergence of new artistic movements such as the Greek Rocco and Greek Neoclassicism. The movement featured a mixture of brilliant artists.

Archangel Michael, Panagiotis Doxaras, 18th century.

Greek Romanticism (19th century)

Modern Greek art, after the establishment of the Greek Kingdom, began to be developed around the time of Romanticism. Greek artists absorbed many elements from their European colleagues, resulting in the culmination of the distinctive style of Greek Romantic art, inspired by revolutionary ideals as well as the country's geography and history.

Vryzakis Theodoros, The Exodus from Missolonghi, 1853. National Gallery, Athens.

The Munich School (19th century Academic Realism)

After centuries of Ottoman rule, few opportunities for an education in the arts existed in the newly independent Greece, so studying abroad was imperative for artists. The most important artistic movement of Greek art in the 19th century was academic realism, often called in Greece "the Munich School" because of the strong influence from the Royal Academy of Fine Arts of Munich where many Greek artists trained. In academic realism the imperative is the ethography, the representation of urban and/or rural life with a special attention in the depiction of architectural elements, the traditional cloth and the various objects. Munich School painters were specialized on portraiture, landscape painting and still life. The Munich school is characterized by a naturalistic style and dark chiaroscuro. Meanwhile, at the time we observe the emergence of Greek neoclassicism and naturalism in sculpture.

Nikolaos Gyzis, Learning by heart, 1883.

Rallis Theodoros, The Booty, before 1906.

20th Century Modern & Contemporary Greek Art

At the beginning of the 20th century the interest of painters turned toward the study of light and color. Gradually the impressionists and other modern schools increased their influence. The interest of Greek painters, artists changes from historical representations to Greek landscapes with an emphasis on light and colours so abundant in Greece. Representatives of this artistic change introduce historical, religious and mythological elements that allow the classification of Greek painting into modern art. The era of the 1930s was a landmark for the Greek painters. The second half of the 20th century has seen a range of acclaimed Greek artists too serving the movements of surrealism, metaphysical art, kinetic art, Arte Povera, abstract excessionism and kinetic sculpture.

Yiannis Moralis, Two friends, 1946.

Art by Giannis Gaitis (1923-1984), famous for his uniformed little men.

By Yorghos Stathopoulos (1944 - )

Art (detail) by Nikos Engonopoulos (1907 - 1985)

Folk, Modern Ecclesiastical and Secular Post-Byzantine Art

Ecclesiastical art, church architecture, holy painting and hymnology follow the order of Greek Byzantine tradition intact. Byzantine influence also remained pivotal in folk and secular art and it currently seems to enjoy a rise in national and international interest about it.

A modern depiction of the legendary hero Digenes Akritas depicted in the style of a Byzantine icon by Greek artist Dimitrios Skourtelis. Credit: Dimitrios Skourtelis / Reddit

Erotokritos and Aretousa by folk artist Theophilos (1870-1934)

Example of Modern Greek Orthodox murals, Church of St. Nicholas.

Ancient Greek philosophers depicted in iconographic fashion in one of Meteora’s monasteries. Each is holding a quote from his work that seems to foreshadow Christ. Shown from left to right are: Homer, Thucydides, Aristotle, Plato and Plutarch. This is not as weird as it may initially seem: it was a recurrent belief throughout the history of Christian Greek Orthodoxy that the great philosophers of the world heralded Jesus' birth in their writings - it was part of the eras of biggest reconciliation between Greek Byzantinism and Classicism.

Prophet Elijah icon with Chariot of Fire, Handmade Greek Orthodox icon, unknown iconographer. Source

If you see this, thanks very much for reading this post. Hope you enjoyed!

[agentbobr]

Uhm so hi..

Sorry im not very good with social interaction but id like to request the rottmnt turtles with their crush or y/n and they found out that they drew them

Sorry if its a strange request!!

ah don't apologize! got nothing to apologize for anyways <3, also definitely not strange tbh i think most people who draw (me included) end up drawing their crush lol, also sorry if mikey is ooc! ive never really written him :')

🎨🖌️ Raph had a crush on you for a looong time, and it wasn't well hidden at all!

🎨🖌️ But alas, when your in love you never notice all the signs~

🎨🖌️ One day while you and Raph are hanging out, him training off on the side and you drawing him sneakily

Sitting in the garage, with Raph off to the left lifting some weight while talking about the latest villian he'd smashed, listening to him talk so passionately was always so.... inspiring? definitely a nice sound to listen to while drawing that's for sure!

"And than Leo went in all... all swords blazing! he was porting left and right, it was awesome! and then, Donnie-"

and than a crash sounded thoughout the lair before- "(y/n) I am....SO sorry!" Mikey called out, sighing before getting up, you leave your sketchbook where you were sitting before going to check what Mikey was sorry for, leaving Raph alone, with his curiosity of what you were drawing becoming waaaay to big and him snooping

Raph looked at only a few pages! before he got to the drawings of him and he's impressed! he knows it's hard to draw his figure properly but you did it well, there was one drawing that left him fluster though.... of him and you, snuggling under the moonlight with little doodle hearts drawn around it! i mean he's happy as hell because that means you like him back but he's also as red as his mask at that thought!, but all his guilt comes round when you come back and see him. with your book. and him trying to hide behind it while blushing....

🎨🖌️ We open the scene on Leo, posing like a king, eating grapes.

🎨🖌️ He had paid you in pizza to draw him as "royally and stunning as you can"

🎨🖌️ ...And having to yelling at him to keep still or it'll ruin the portrait...

"Look, all you have to do is keep still for a bit longer!" You regret taking the pizza.

"But my arm is getting tired!~" His whining becoming louder per minute, any chance to take a break from this would be taken as a blessing-

and just as that thought was finished, your phone rang, an exit from having to draw this- this....cute dumbass! just as you walk out to take the call though, Leo springs up to go snooping...

"OHOHOHO!..... Woah this is good....really caught my flamboyant charm!~" and just as flips to the previous page in the book, his face goes red. A drawing of him and you. Together. KISSING. this is to much, but also so very perfect!

As soon as you come back in the room, he recreates the drawing- dipping you into an embrace before quickly kissing you....then going back to his pose for the drawing.....FUCKING HELL LEO-

🎨🖌️ Now Donnie only needed you expertise this one time, he needed someone to help him come up with a design for his latest invention to really make it ✨shine✨

🎨🖌️ What he didn't expect was you to have so many ideas!, I mean who would think of a geometric diamond detailing? that's GENIUS!

🎨🖌️ So obviously, he does the only right thing and looks through your book for other ideas-

One second you're talking about designs, the next you're having to practically climb walls to reach Donnie, who had mischievously taken your book and used his battle shell's engine(??) to fly up and out of your reach.

"Come on Donnie!, Give it- WAH!- Give it back!" You say, almost falling off of the support beam in the room mid sentence,

He scoffs "But think of all the ideas I could think of off of your own drawings!" And as he turn the next page, he goes stiff as a plank and falls to the floor.

He saw it. The stupid cartoonish doodle of him surrounded by hearts and small 'ily's, simply glancing over at him would reveal he's completely shut down and red faced, only does he get up around 5 minutes later to slowly sit down next to you and wraps his pinky around yours.

"if....if you'd like, we could try....this" he says while gesturing at both of you with his hand fastly. You smile.

🎨🖌️ Who would of thought that exchanging artbooks with Mikey could go so...wrong?

🎨🖌️ You have a shared artbook with him, and being a bit forgetful, you accidentally gave him your private sketchbook instead of the shared one! oops....

🎨🖌️ And before you could realize, he saw it.

You wake up at around 1am to your phone ringing, without thinking you answer groggily "h...hello?" you say before quietly yawning, "heyyyy bestie!....soooo...I think, you gave me the wrong book earlier..."

And now. Now you're awake and alert, "which one did i give you? the...the one with the stickers on it or the one with hearts?" Silence was heard over the line before some shuffling is heard.... "The one with the hearts!, You draw me so well!" He gushes....he...he liked the drawings! The drawings of you and him....living domestically together....oh oh wowee....

"you... actually liked them?" You asked nervously, "of course i did! tomorrow you should come over and we can bake like in one of the pages! wanna call it a date?" He says playfully but the date part...that part was serious, a clean cut and honest question.

"absolutely!" it's a date, a sweet delicious date.

hope you enjoyed! asks are open currently as of (2/14/23)

[tbdofficial]

An extremely fast-and-loose analysis of several TBD characters’ outfits (Croissant, Timekeeper, String Gummy) ft. Steampunk and Her Weird Cousins. take all of this with a grain of salt bc it’s just written off the cuff lol

⏳ Croissant is in a getup typical of ladies in sci-fi and especially mechanic-y types - half-zipped coveralls tied at the waist, and a tank top (grease and sweat optional). Doesn’t look one bit out-of-place in our era, which means it’s very suitable for our Croissy - an engineering student in the late 2010s/early 2020s. There’s a fun hint of steampunk in her design with the brass goggles, of course, which doubles as a spot of foreshadowing. Her Timecraft, though, is a special case! It’s a Renaissance Era-inspired, Da Vincian flying machine - this would be considered ‘clockpunk’.

⏳Timekeeper is steampunk. You all know what steampunk is. Top hat, monocle, puffy shirt sleeves, an embroiderer, various gears and gizmos - all retrofuturistically Victorian things. Overall a lovely design that makes people go batshit bonkers, and rightfully so. Their costumes tend to combine masculine and feminine articles quite succinctly, which I adore for them. Nonbinary slay.

⏳ Ruler of the Ephemeral Flow also draws a lot of steampunk, but also bleeds past that into other aesthetics - there’s kind of an early 1900s theme with the Ruined Future characters that I’ll touch on in a bit. In a lot of ways, it resembles a military uniform, with the jacket and cloak. The skirt-over-trousers look was fairly popular with Victorian women (well, skirt cage in this particular case), and two out of three of Teek’s outfits include it! I’d also like to point out a particular feature - the 19th century weeping veil, worn during periods of mourning; in this case, donned when Timekeeper is at their absolute lowest. Whoever designed these characters deserves a raise and a handjob. Moving on.

⏳ Timeless Love is pink. I fucking love pink. I don’t have many thoughts on it though but it fucks. Fantastic.

⏳ Director Croissant is decopunk - dieselpunk’s contemporary, but brighter and shinier bedfellow. (We’ll talk about dieselpunk in a bit.) Decopunk is based in the early-mid 20th century, much like dieselpunk, simply from a more optimistic perspective - because as we all know, nothing bad ever happens in the early 20th century. Symmetry, straight lines, smooth patterns, rich metal accents, admiration for crisp modernity and the beauty of machinery. The Future is Bright! Tech & invention will change our lives for the better! Art deco! Expressionism! et cetera. The cloak and chain makes her resemble a military commander, with her new leadership position.

⏳ The patterns on her outfit are smooth and geometric - diamond-shaped buttons, swooping arches on her cap, all decked out in gold and steel. It’s… a fittingly ironic aesthetic for a character whose invention unwittingly destroyed the world, straining to keep up her once-genuine mask of idealistic optimism. It also foils her nicely with String Gummy, whose gruff exterior belies a genuine sense of hope.

⏳ String Gummy is a dieselpunk - likewise based in the early 20th century, but darker, grittier and more pessimistic. Baggy military uniform-esque pants, gas mask, tiki skull motif, shaved haircut, metal prosthetic, and a Big Ass Rifle. In a similar vein, his skill + Smile Detector’s green glow resembles that of radium dial clocks, which is…. um. uh. Concerning. I don’t think pastries can get cancer or anything but but but but

⏳ Detective String Gummy (his “dashing uniform” as he describes it) is also rooted in dieselpunk - the archetype of the film noir detective. He’s more colorful and more unambiguously heroic, and - I was going to say “less depressive” than most examples of said archetype, but this is String we’re talking about, so the bar is lower than a Dutch conga line. Still tough as nails, gritty and relentless, but not without his softer spots.

[somer-writes]

"my theory is the zonai become the twili eventually" Ah, I see you are a man of culture! Love seeing that people still subscribe to that theory!

the anon is so ominous XD /j

I mean how are they not!! The art is so similar and there’s way too many parallels imo

keep in mind that throughout tp the only twili we see are midna and zant as the others are all corrupt but presumably they look somewhat similar. Not quite hylian anyway

i find it extremely plausible that the zonai following rauru fall victim to seeking out more and more powerful magic until they are ultimately banished in the interloper war.

The zonai statues look similar to twili

Imo raurus clothing is similar to what we see at the very least midna wear. Theres long wraps/shawls and a lot of ornamentation

the cave under the castle has a similar sound design to TP

The sages maintain hyrule history and we know they essentially scrubbed the twili from the records

-> as a sub note we know there are 6 sages in OOT and TP. TOTK has 5 *however* Zelda is a sage which carries over from the timeline. In TP the water sage is killed by ganon, in TOTK the sages are all long gone. The sages in TP wear the masks of old men so who’s to say that TP isn’t the beginning of the sages downfall

the angular art design which relies on geometric patterns is very twili

the color palette is also v twili. We see a lot of teals as well as the zonais’ typical body color and the zonai ore is v twilight color

the curious part is how does this interact with skyward sword. Is it so far after skyward that the kingdom needs reestablished? Is it parallel to skyward?

the interlopers are banished by the gods but the zonai *arent* hylian. They have no reason to be reverent to hylia but they’re not one of the surface races in skyward. I think it’s entirely possible that the hylians move to the surface and the zonai simply remain undiscovered in the sky or come after.

Sonia is very clearly hylian to me so some thread of hylians must be present in the sky at least until her birth. She and rauru do not have descendants which leaves sky and suns line to royalty.

[oddlyunadventurous]

Hey, are you ok? I noticed you haven’t been typing like a 15 year old teenage girl lately.

I mean you remember how it used to be, right? I recently went to a website from 2003 and it reminded me of you so much I started wondering whether or not you had forgotten. To quote a paragraph:

Let me introduce this little piece. You see, preps and goths are classic enemies. The preps attempt to bully the goths for looking funny, and the goths write angsty Livejournal entries about the preps in return. It's an endless cycle. I see the heated rivalry all the time at my school! So I figure, someone needs to mediate this war. And so I chose the greatest person ever - myself. Yes that's right, the preps and goths will be rated on a number of superficial categories. Are you ready for this extreme ride? This is based solely on the preps and goths I encounter at my school, so unless you go there, no challenging my authority!

It’s wonderful, I have to say. It’s so hard to describe the literary style of a child pretending to be a grown-up that a real example is the only way to make my point, like the Indian mathematicians who would motion at geometric proofs and exclaim “Behold!” in order to convince their students. Truth, certain kinds of it, to them, could really be self-evident.

Your angles also used to add up to 180° but since rigor demands a formalization in the scientific field of living your own life, I suppose you need me to type more, don’t you? Well rigor it is, really, and how is your back by the way? Do you need a stretch? See, I know. And I’m sorry, really. Look, everybody hates their life now. I understand! And I get that you hate looking back at how stupid it used to be, how gullible and self-important you were, how you thought everything was gonna turn out peachy. And then you got fucked. It’s really quite a slap in the face, enough to make anyone despise it. IT! The credulous past! Ah, but it! Who will sing its praises? Not you, you jaded idiot. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off mean.

Here is text that believes in itself. It holds opinions about meaningless things but is overawed at its own ability to hold anything at all. It’s amazed by its own humanity. It bounds around on the screen, irreverent and happy. It knows, just as well, that its humanity is periled, under threat. It hides its existential dread under a guise, the old childish habit of play-acting. Here’s a mask, now there another. A pretense meant to entertain, to take the mind away, rather than to fool, a sexless coquetry, a thinly veiled admission that one’s own trust in one’s own power is waning, quick turning, really, into a sort of desperate and pleading hope: Please, world, don’t swallow me completely! I know that everybody hates their life now. I know what happened. It is so traumatic that the literary scientists of centuries ago even created a whole genre - the coming of age story, the Bildungsroman - that is supposed to guide and encourage you through your painful, cringey adolescence. To me, I mean, it’s a bunch of bull. More than feeling like some sage advice, it feels like the whole of humanity rather is consoling you through some unspeakable grief, convincing you it couldn’t have gone any other way, assuaging your infinite disappointment with a shrug. You have a corpse in your memory but it’s okay, so do we! Christ. These people are insane!

Insane! Insane, I tell you! And you believed them! I really am afraid you’re one of them. You haven’t been typing like a teenage girl lately and it upsets me because I truly fear you lost it. What horror. Have you taken ill? How is your temperature? You know I care about you, right? And there are happy people out there, yes, but I can’t be happy because I am kept up in the small hours of the night thinking about you and how you might find it all intolerable sometimes. Do you even realize that there are goblins at the bottom of the earth? They dig a bunch of tunnels and kiss each other while doing it, and put pipes in the tunnels so our poop can flow happily into the sea, perhaps into a whale’s big mouth, like a water slide. Yippie!!!

See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? I mean it was, but look at you. You’re red in the face from second hand embarrassment because I typed something so incredibly stupid out of nowhere. And, I mean, it’s not even funny, I didn’t even try, I will admit. But you’re the idiot, there was no first hand embarrassment, I was too busy trying to prove a point. You used to be stupid and unfunny, too, and do you know what? It was the smartest and funniest you ever were in your life. If I had met you then, well, I know this might be an emotional blow below the belt kind of deal, but if I did, you may have endeared yourself to me, so much so that I would’ve become your friend. I don’t know about now. Now you’re 48 and you hate children, forgot where you came from, now you straight illin’, don’t fight the feelin’ you gotta deal with it. Tisk. I bet you can’t seamlessly integrate a Deltron 3030 lyric into your rant about, oh I dunno, why modern day marxists should read more primary sources, or whatever dumb shit is on your mind today. See what I mean?😪 Sorry, my autocomplete thought it fitting that I should flourish that last sentence with a crying emoji so I did it cause I thought it would look funny and it does. Do you need me to make you some soup, by the way?

It’s terrible, it’s really terrible, I’m shaking my head in disbelief. Preps and goths are classic enemies and you don’t even care! I understand that I can dominate the passive income market by making 2 ETH daily through chatGPT, I know that I need to increase my penis size with these 3 jelquing exercises, my fucking teeth are falling out and I’m so tired of worrying that I really am starting to believe, I’m caving in to the honeyed promises that Aquafresh’s patented formula of 23 selected spices and high fructose cherry taste can unfuck the terrible decisions of my past! But after a long day at the factory where you play Russian roulette with a 100-chambered revolver, cocksure that your chances of dying are statistically low while blissfully unaware that the lead-laden metal that the weapon’s body is composed of is slowly poisoning you through skin contact, I like to come back home (that’s the full name of the factory btw, don’t make fun of it), crack open a cold case of tap water, and think about how dramatic the goth and prep rivalry really is. That is because, for a 15 year old teenage girl, which I am not, I admit through week-old stubble, everything is monolithic and incredible. You don’t have to reach, like Gotthold Ephraim Lessing in Laocoon, beyond the mortal veil, to pine for the unlived past of the ancients, in order to experience that quality the Germans of his time so prized: the sublime. You have only but to peer down your own past and you will find that you, too, felt it. The goths and preps are, to a teenage girl, as sweeping as Greek myth is, as terrifying in their thunderous impression as the marble statue of man and offspring being swallowed up by snakes alive. She feels herself, like the wanderer above the sea of fog, a particle in a fathomless world she can’t help but humbly sing the praises of, after her own fashion, on her shitty Web 1.0 angelfire website. You are, au contraire, like the Wanderer above the Sea of Fog, able to be printed on a mug, a tote bag, or a unisex tee, or other items even, on an online marketplace the affiliate link to which I should’ve duly given you but have sheepishly misplaced out of my clipboard in the vain interest of keeping you around a minute longer, perhaps hoping that out of your own accord you will extract from memory, you will resurface, that factoid you once learned about the epic orators and how they would recite the works of Homer for twenty hours straight in front of captive audiences using these long and run-on sentences which - against all sense - should not have worked, yet through their innate and awesome gift of prosody they see-sawed with the spoken word, made sensible the world of gods and monsters to the simple, needy and alone in front of them, and so they brought them comfort.

Please go to the doctor. Or have your girlfriend give you a beej, look- I don’t mean to be lewd, whatever works for you is what I’m saying. Parenthetically, if your girlfriend is a doctor too, well shit, I figure, your chances of getting better have just doubled maybe. But anyway, I’m sorry, where was I? You have got to start typing like a 15 year old teenage girl again. It’s imperative, I beg of you. I honestly can’t stand talking to you these days and the thought of growing old with you around is driving me up the wall. Up the wall indeed I’ll scratch-scratch-scratch, and through the joists and there’s the attic, a fitting place to hide, for I will be able to look out the skylight then without you bothering me. I plan on learning how to visualize Orion’s Belt as many different-fashioned belts, adding and removing stars from the celestial vault as I wish, changing up the big boy’s style like he’s my little darling dress-up doll in a 2003-era flash game. I think he’ll love it.

By God I don’t know if we can be roommates for much longer.

Sincerely,

Me.

[damianbugs]

if u follow me on twitter you might be aware of the newest brain infection i have been in an intense battle of the wills with. something i am going to call the "dark evil not evil insane mean not rude asshole kind bruce au" (title pending). it was supposed to be a short oneshot based on a dream (nightmare) i had where jason travels to a dimension where bruce was a batman who killed, had no family, lived completely secluded from others and was manifesting his fears externally rather than the canon-verse of internalising everything.

he wears tactical gear, a black mask that covers his entire face. the bat symbol is a geometric shape of blades across his bulletproof armour. he knocks jason out with the back of his gun the first time they meet, immediately. bruce wayne is legally dead, btw, but that's like, the least important thing, somehow.

i hate him a lot. i know him personally. he's going to be brought up in my next therapy appointment. my bff, if you will. i need him dead!

it has now become the longest oneshot i have ever written and it doesn't seem. to be ending. anytime soon. free me.

[mxeve0]

Masterlist

D.VA X Genji OneShot

Not Jealous

Part•1 (Part•2)

A cold breeze drifted down the corridor as Hana pushed the door to the infirmary open. The room was blindly white and smelt of disinfectant, as usual. Her injury wasn't bad, just a small cut on her temple from slipping whilst getting out of the shower. Definitely not her proudest moment.

Her eyes drifted towards the right of the room, where the beds were, and where Genji and Angela were. The cyborg was sitting on the bed, Angela standing behind him, her hand on his back. His upper torso and left shoulder were wrapped in bandages.

"Well, you're all set to go, but remember, no extrenuous exercise," Angela instructed as she put away her supplies. Hana's brow furrowed as she turned away to rummage through a small box to her right, looking for a plaster. After finding a suitable one, she turned on her heel and left. Hearing Genji's footsteps behind her, she stopped, waiting for him to be side by side with her before she started walking again. There was a burning sensation in the pit of her stomach, but she ignored it as she spoke,

"Do you like her?" She asked whilst opening the bandaid. Trying to position the plaster, she looked up at him, his mask blank and emotionless. The ninja raised an arm, grabbing her wrist and adjusting the position of the plaster before she placed it.

"You know what I mean; do you like her?" Hana teased, poking his arm, ignoring how the burning was rising to her chest. The hallway was silent for a moment, before Genji spoke again.

"No." A sense of relief washed over her. 'Why am I even bothered? This is so stupid, what am I doing?' she thought, as they continued to walk down the corridor. "Do you...like her?" Hana turns to him, an eyebrow raised.

"Uh, no," she answered, sounding a little harsher than intended. He nodded as they came to a stop in front of her room.

"I'll see you around then," he stated flatly before continuing to walk off. The brunette stood there, a sinking feeling in her stomach. Brushing it off, she turned on her heel and entered her room.

⋆⛧*┈┈┈┈┈┈﹤୨♡୧﹥ ┈┈┈┈┈┈*⛧⋆

Putting down her mechanical pencil, Hana flexed her fingers, trying to get rid of the cramps she had from drawing. She looked down at the concept sketches for a new mech that she had drawn, humming as she analysed the pages. She wanted it to be more sleek and aerodynamic. More professional in other words.

As she redrew part of the shield mechanism, her mind went back to earlier that day. She remembered how the silence between them whilst walking was comforting and warm, despite the corridor feeling like the inside of a freezer. 'Why did I even ask him if he likes her? It's not like I like him anyway. It would have been fine if he said yes... right?'

Hana shook her head, stopping herself from smiling at the thought of him. She didn't need to busy herself with a man right now. If she could get herself to where she was now completely alone, then she didn't need anybody else. But that doesn't necessarily mean she didn't want a man... She laughed, throwing her head back against her bunny gaming chair. That was ridiculous.

A sudden knock at her door broke her out of her daze. Hana spun the chair around and got up, making her way to the door. Opening the door revealed the tall, slender figure of Genji. His left arm's armour was missing, showing the numerous scars he had accrued from battle.

"Have you got any tape?" He asked, pulling the girl's attention away from his muscular arm.

"Uh, yeah, but it's got a pattern on it," she replied, thinking back to her impressively large collection of washi tape that was sitting on her desk.

"That's fine," the cyborg said. Hana turned and hopped back over to her desk. The colours were mainly pink and purple, but miraculously, she managed to pull out a green roll of tape with a geometric pattern from the bottom of the stack. She walked back and handed the roll to him, smiling softly. "Cute," he mutters, just loud enough for her to hear.

"You know, I've noticed that you're lacking in your hand-to-hand combat skills, so why don't you come and train with me tomorrow?" He asked, tucking the tape away in some hidden pocket. Hana, paused, half insulated by the fact he thought she was bad, but half excited to spend time with him.

"Sure, I guess I could use the help," she said, looking down at her feet in the hopes that he wouldn't notice her cheeks burning up.

"Cool,' he stated before walkie off. Closing the door, Hana turned around, looked at her room, before squealing quietly, jumping up and down. He'd basically just asked her on a date. Not that she was bothered by that, or even wanted to go on a date with him. But still, it was cool that he did.

As she skipped back over to her chair, her phone chimed. She picked up the device, flipping the case's bunny ears from off her screen, and read the notification.

From: Genji-

Forgot to tell you that Angela is going to join us in the training tomorrow.

Hana groaned as she fell back into her chair, slamming her phone down on the table. 'Why does she have to go everywhere that he does? It's like she can't survive without him. It's stupid.'

Sighing, she picked up her headphones and adjusted the mic, aiming to take her frustrations out in her games. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad.

[lotus-mirage]

Trigun Stampede episode 6 liveblog!

oh, a defector, presumably?

Alright, Punisher is an apt title it seems

so confirmation that the red plants are the ones considered defective. but huh, "scheduled for disposal" - I was under the impression that they didn't have a way to get more? They wouldn't keep them around just in case?

Meryl and Roberto have good reasons for leaving, but I'm still kind of expecting it to not last very long

oh those were some suspiciously cross-shaped coat buttons. and symbol on the back of the coat.

huh I think his guns are also cross-shaped

Okay yeah so Wolfwood is very much taken off guard by this.

The 2D animation kind of startled me tbh lol

The lack of voicelines in this section is interesting! Kind of directing you to pay closer attention.

Wait the law enforcement appearing reminded me - Vash's appearance is pretty well known, right? Is he not disguising himself at all?

Oh what's catching up to the car and why are they so colorful??

... the 2D silhouettes approaching the building look kinda like caskets.

"child of blessing." huh.

oh THATS a color sequence

he's on an upside-down cross I... wow

also bit of a weird feeling that this might be kind of early to learn this?? Like I feel like this is at least a late-season or season 2 sort of sequence. There's been two and a half episodes of Wolfwood so far total.

That is a lot of cells

Wait the scientist guy seems surprised. Where did Wolfwood get the glass thingies if not from him??

Oh wtf is somebody psychic or. whats happening here.

Okay first of all I don't think we've seen this person before, but I think they have the same haircut as the baby twins and the angel kid.

Second "eye of michael," okay. I guess that's the thing in the center of the symbol, then.

Oh this is the guy with psychic powers(?)! Alright, that's a mystery partially solved. Second question: How??? (is that allowed???)

Huh, I'd have thought they'd also indoctrinate the kids, if they're getting them from that place?

Also. I'm assuming this is a framing thing for the viewers, but it also kind of feels like the guy is also seeing the future here.

Bluesummers, okay. Sure.

"Forgive us, boy." Unless he's talking about something else, this seems at odds with the priest's previous charicterization. Huh.

Oh I think I missed it, but they said something about Wolfwood retaining something, mentally, right? I should check that.

Implication that the orphanage needs to supply two kids at any given point?

More skull motifs on Bluesummers.

And the mask on Livio is sparking blue. Looks like it matches up with whatever was happening to his eye in the flashback. (I wonder why so many have their visible technology on their heads?)

Geometric patterns on Bluesummer's arm, noted (and small book! ...actual bible?). Also is he paralleling Wolfwood and Livio's relationship and Vash and Knives'?

Are they redirecting the ship to the orphanage?? Why???

That's like the most neon I've seen on this show by far. Feels a little weird honestly.

Notably Livio doesn't seem to have emoted at all.

End notes:

Uhhh general observations first. Animation in this episode was very cool as always. Background music was noticeable, but felt intentional in that.

On the symbolic stuff this episode, idk if I have enough knowledge to really speak to any of it? Bluesummer's emotions shtick seems like a personal rather than organizational thing, for one. I think Michael is an archangel, and other media I've seen them in has had them either as an authority figure or as like a high-ranking fighter. Those portrayals were also definitely taking a lot of liberties, so that further muddies the water.

No idea if "child of blessing" has symbolic meaning, but it kind of reminds me of Rollo from last episode? In the sense that they kind of undergo the same thing and also that results in a 'blessing' they don't get to experience/enjoy, potentially through their doom or demise.

I feel like I don't really have a lot to speculate on in this episode, particularly in comparison to the last. I'm surprised that Wolfwood is getting this much focus so early, let alone a two-parter mostly about him. With the reappearance of the neon desert raiders, I was expecting Meryl and Roberto to also return, but I could be wrong or it could be the next episode lol.

[open-hearth-rpg]

#RPGCovers Week Fourteen Historica Arcanum (2022) Yağmur Kıyak

Nothing fills me with joy right now then a new cover, out of the blue, hitting me right between the eyes. That’s what happened when I saw a new collection from the Bundle of Holding. Historica Arcanum, it turns out is an amazing looking campaign setting from a Turkish Publisher, Metis Creative.

Empires of the Silk Road and Herald of Rain offer an alternate 13th Century Silk Road designed as an open world, and an adventure designed to build up to one climactic struggle in a legendary dungeon. The City of Crescent presents an alternate 19th-Century Istanbul. Those are complemented by map packs, wallpapers, tokens, and a soundtrack album. 

This is very much my jam– I loved historical sourcebooks, it covers two periods I dig, and I love Islamic history in general. It’s for D&D 5e which is not my jam, but seems easily ported over to other systems. I’d never heard of this before, but it apparently had a Kickstarter back in September 2022. It isn’t on DTRPG atm and isn’t listed in the RPGGeek Database. 

But the covers. Wow. Empires of the Silk Road sets the template. We have a dark black background with striking geometrical Islamic patterning around the outside. It’s like the finest woodcut. Then there’s the skull– the top of the head vanishing under the overlay of the title. The jewelry here is ornate, elaborate and, like the page border, nearly symmetrical  despite the complexity. It is such an amazing feat of draftsmanship. Then there’s the skull beneath the chains with whirlpool-like eye sockets. And then open mouth and the screaming fangs. I love that the skull image is the thing which breaks the symmetry. 

One thing that you might not take in the first time you look at it: the head-scarf, the sigils to the left and the pentagram to the right. 

The paired image to this is Herald of Rain, the campaign sourcebook for the setting. We have the same page border here, but done in dark red and difficult to see. But our skull face here is, in contrast, distinctly non-symmetrical, split unevenly. I love the fine detail on the metalwork of the mask. I can only assume it's a funerary one given that the eye slit doesn’t line up. Is it the mask of a Chinese lord or from some other stop on the Silk Road. Here the head scarf is replaced by flowing brown hair.

Finally, the more modern sourcebook, City of Crescent presents the border in a striking orange, but this time the border which boxes it in is thicker and more distinct. The orange here matches the tan of the uniform. The big signifier here is the fez atop the skull’s head– a sign of the 19th Century Ottoman attempts to mark themselves as modern and part of the supposedly advanced colonialist world. And, of course, there’s the characteristic mustache, out of place on a skull. I love the incongruity of that.   

But that mustache does draw attention to a detail which I find striking: they’re all the same skull. I don’t know if that means anything, but I love it.  

It also reminds me of the great series of covers done for the Brian Lumley Necroscope books from the 80s & 90s.