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qnewsau · 7 months

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Meet Steven Fahd: The man behind Gold Coast's new queer venue

New Post has been published on https://qnews.com.au/meet-steven-fahd-the-man-behind-gold-coasts-new-queer-venue/

Meet Steven Fahd: The man behind Gold Coast's new queer venue

Steven Fahd is the owner of Gold Coast’s new LGBTQIA+ venue Hairy Mary’s. He spoke to QNews about creating safe venues for the community and his hopes for this new venture.

I meet Steven in his newly opened bar Hairy Mary’s on the Gold Coast.

He is incredibly welcoming and jovial as we sit down to chat about his life and the new venue.

It’s clear he’s very comfortable with who he is and proud of his place in the LGBTQIA+ community.

However, it wasn’t always that way.

Sydney beginnings

Steven grew up in the western Sydney suburbs as a “good catholic Lebanese boy” and was set on a path of what was expected of him.

He married young but clearly knew it wasn’t for him when he moved his male lover in under the same roof as his wife.

Unsurprisingly the marriage didn’t last and he began exploring a new gay world a little later than most.

“It wasn’t until I got into my early thirties that I started going out and enjoying the scene, and being part of it,” he said.

“Back then it was different. It was more underground, we were just starting to become even more liberated.”

But even though Steven was involved in the scene, he hadn’t fully embraced the LGBTQIA+ community.

“I accepted the fact that I was a gay man but that seemed kind of scary to me. All my friends were straight, so I hardly ever connected, communicated or went out with gay men, whatsoever,” he said.

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A post shared by Hairy Mary’s (@hairymarysgc)

Creating Sircuit in Melbourne

All that changed with a change of scene. It was a metamorphosis from the constraints of his home city to the unbridled freedom Melbourne offered.

“That was when my whole life switched and then community became part of it,” he explains.

Steven found the leather scene and began working for Melbourne legend Bill Saunders at the sex-on-site venue Club 80.

He then met his now ex-partner and the pair travelled throughout Europe discovering the different types of clubs and venues across the continent.

They wanted to bring some of that to Melbourne.

They identified a large LGBTQIA+ community in the inner northern suburbs but not enough venues to create a village-type atmosphere. Steven was determined to find the right venue to create that safe area for the community.

“I was driving up Peel Street heading towards Smith, and I turn left. There was this big sign on the side of the building for lease. I looked at it, rang my ex-partner up and said we found it. This is what we’re doing,” he says.

The venue, which was run down and needed a great deal of work, would become Sircuit.

Sircuit quickly became a go-to venue and helped develop that area of Melbourne to become the new gay centre of the city.

The goal for Steven wasn’t just about the success of the business but also creating something that had a purpose.

“I was trying to educate the community about our culture and our history. Because we have, as a community, an important history. If people my age or older don’t share that it’s just going to drift away,” he says.

“It’s important that venues are actually doing something that gives back to the community. Drag queens and drag shows, are such a big part of it. It’s listening to those stories, and realising fuck, we all do need each other, to hold each other up and protect each other.”

A move to the Gold Coast

Steven finished up with Sircuit and after a few years moved north to the sunny Gold Coast.

He quickly immersed himself in the community and decided that he wanted to run a gay-owned and operated venue there.

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A post shared by Hairy Mary’s (@hairymarysgc)

He heard most people wanted a venue to “feel safe and not gawked at” like some previous bars in busier parts of the coast.

After an exhaustive search, he found the perfect venue. It was a rundown building in a private area that was still central and easily accessible for patrons.

Steven then battled for two years with extensive council red tape and expensive renovations to finally bring his dream of opening up ‘Hairy Mary’s’ into reality.

And why the name?

He explains that with any coffee order, he always gives the name “Mary”.

“So we were thinking of names, and my friend said ‘You’re kind of hairy aren’t you’ and then we joked I was a “Hairy Mary” and that was it,” he says.

Opening Hairy Mary’s

The venue had its launch last month and is already building up a loyal following.

“Friday Saturday nights are flat out, they’re busy which is nice to see, the community has embraced it,” he says.

However, just like his previous venues, community and giving back lies at the heart of what Steven is building.

He points to a mural of text on the wall opposite which is the Hairy Mary’s mantra.

“Welcome to our place. Your place. Where everyone is welcome. A place that celebrates you and everything about you. A safe space without judgement or labels, where we can all let our hair down,” he reads out loud.

“That’s what I would like to happen here.”

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A post shared by Hairy Mary’s (@hairymarysgc)

When I ask what he hopes for the future, he says something unexpected for a businessman: “I want to see other venues open up here.”

“It creates safety for the community. I’d love to see gay flags hanging off buildings, it gives a sense of community and belonging, having somewhere to go that is that space,” he explains.

The venue is due to start barbeque fundraisers for community groups alongside many other events including drag shows, trivia and themed nights.

It’s all supported by a bar team that Steven says has already embraced the Hairy Mary’s mantra.

“Within three weeks, there’s like a little family going on. That’s important for my patrons to know that our staff get along. There’s a whole lot of love that’s going on there,” he says.

From his own life it’s clear Steven understands the importance of what a venue can give a local queer community.

His experience and his fight to open the venue shows that the future of the Gold Coast scene is in safe, and hairy, hands.

Visit hairymarys.com.au for more information on the new venue.

Read next:

Gold Coast Pride Festival is getting even bigger this year

New Gold Coast gay bar Hairy Mary’s opens this week

#gay bar #gold coast

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chutneymarysindianrestaurant · 2 years

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Indian Restaurant with Bar Gold Coast

Chutney mary’s indian restaurant and bar is fine indian cuisine. Providing great five star service in dining, take away and deliveries. Chutney mary’s serve the authentic northern indian food. For more information, visit -https://chutneymarysindian.restaurant/

#Indian Restaurant with Bar Gold Coast #Indian Restaurant with Bar in Australia #best indian restaurant near me #order indian food online gold coast

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1800titz · 6 months

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The vacay piece I teased ages ago. One night stand :D

CONTENT/WARNINGS: p-in-v, oral, brief size kink (if you squint), praise kink, this one’s p vanilla.

WC: 2.5K

It starts like this:

A bohemian beach with a high riding tide, where ripples surge and flood the shore. Sand tears from its home, coasting the verge in the breeze like a fog under the overcast, and when the clouds split open, the rays hug her skin.

She’s sprawled over a chaise lounge in a little red thing that’s all skimp and no cover besides the intimates. When she rolls onto her side and tips to her tummy, he eyes the flash of skin behind dark tint. His arms brace over the porcelain border of the pool that overlooks the beach up ahead — he’s watchful from a distance. Someone swims up to the bar behind him. Chlorine laps at his back, teeming over the grout between the tiles as he wraps his lips over a straw and nurses something cobalt and strong.

By the time he culls a second one, she’s up, all glistening skin in the sunshine, hips swaying as her toes make doughy prints in the sand. She trails to the sea, and the ocean eats her until she’s just a little silhouette in front of his sunglasses with water-slicked hair and lines that cinch and swell in all the right places.

He sees her like that, outlying his bubble, in brief pieces like the flashes of skin. Fragments in the horizon, like the border of a stranger’s leg in the background of a photograph. He sees her in slivers where eyes interlock from across the room and linger. This bohemian summer is painted in teal, and it’s waves swathing the coast, warm skin coated in cocoa butter.

It ends on a night where the teal metamorphose indigo, and then nearly denim, with orange on cords, glinting like miniaturized, splintered orbs of the sun have been caught to glare forever on strings in the night. Harry sees her through that indigo, this stranger’s bare leg waltzing in the depths of his touristy snapshot, mingling in the dancing horde. He trails closer, shouldering through the throng and squeezing through in polite gaps, and she twists like it’s fate — just enough to smuggle a glimpse in her peripherals.

Eventually, Harry leans in to murmur, “What are you drinking?”

The plush of his mouth ghosts over the cartilage there, and his cadence smooths over like honey, low and deep over the pounding bass of the music. Waned tobacco and spice; a warm, pleasant musk in the flurry of scents.

She doesn’t immediately respond, observant like she’s weighing whether the invitation is worth entertaining. It only takes a second. Then, there’s a hand over his pec, like she’s already made friends with the filth of his intentions. His red-lycra-skimp mystique rolls up on her toes.

Harry twists his head just enough for her to respond, “It’s a Blue Lagoon.”

Saccharine — rich and lux and smooth, something that has her skin glowy and sweeps up her throat, tucks behind her ear, enough so that the scent billows off with the motion of her hair as she flips it over her shoulder.

Harry casts his gaze to the drink. A red straw is tucked into the ice, and the only remnants of the beverage mingle at the bottom. The ice shimmers in faded teal, much like water sloshing over the flat tides. Her fingers cradle over the cup, and that’s where soft, thin lines of gold coil. Despite the broad array, there’s no wedding band.

“Can I grab you another?”

That’s when she does the thing; this patently flirtatious, brazenly get-under-my-crocheted-midi-skirt sort of thing, lashes coy in their sweep and eyes innocuous as the tips of her manicured fingers pinch at the straw and siphon it to her mouth. There’s an elegant presentation to the polish — neat, short lines with a nude base and a white tip.

The remnants of the beverage vanish until all that’s left is crushed ice painted with blue curaçao. Harry watches the straw. He watches her lips, the way they unlatch and the way the pink tip of her tongue offers a glimpse before it hides away behind her front teeth.

When she pulls the drink away, she tips her head — an inclination for his ear again — and when he ducks his chin for her answer, she tells him, “Can you make it worth my time?”

A tongue swipes — his — like it’s already hungry and yearning. Dimples form beside the curling edges of a mouth after the pink muscle retreats. Home in its hungry cavern; limitlessly craving. He doesn’t bother going for her ear again, instead opting to fix eyes that have wandered, all week, onto her face. Definitive, close. Mesh of saccharine and spice.

“I’ll make it worth your time,” Harry assures.

His eyes are virid, even in the indigo, under all the miniature suns as the lanterns throw them back into a roll of blue — it climbs over the crowd and seeps with the music. They’re virid and intent. They’re virid, and there’s something lewd that dances in the mottled talc.

She watches him. A set of eyes flits to his mouth and stays, brief like a fragment. She nudges the cup — the fragment splinters and fades — extending it against his chest until he raises his hand and his ring clad digits curl over it slowly, wet with condensation.

“Blue Lagoon,” sweet mystique reminds him, a little curl to her mouth.

Harry heads to the bar. He orders a Blue Lagoon and refreshes his tequila. Double. He winds through the half-clad crowd, prodding and slipping through sweat-slicked bodies until he finds her again.

He makes it worth her while when they’re dancing, when her arms are slung over his shoulders and the tips of her fingers graze at the little curls at his nape, like an intimacy beyond a summer fling, or maybe like a restless hunger — its touches only test the waters with dips of toes under lapping ripples. He makes it worth her while when his hand cups the meat of her hip, and she tips her head up for their mouths to meet, when their dancing slows and the kiss turns feverish, cushiony mouths teasing at the seams until they split.

He makes it worth her time when they make the stroll back to his room, heels clicking over tile and bouncing off from lofty wall to lofty wall, a good bit of distance between them strictly for the sake of avoiding shagging in the middle of a hallway. He makes it worth her while when he braces his wrist band to the lock over the door, when she’s leant against the wall with her irises lingering on him and her lashes batting coyly. She’s well-behaved, hands tucked behind her back like a combat to handsy temptation.

It’s a different story behind the door.

He makes it worth her while when her fingers toy at her crocheted halter, index perusing at the fabric below cleavage and brushing over chalky yarn. He makes it worth her time when he steps into her space all slow-like, face tipped down and the pink below his cupid’s bow worked into a soft curve, lengthy, deft digits working over the buttons of his shirt. An untamed tendril teases over one of his brows. Her hands meander from fondling at her own tits, at rogue pieces of yarn in the stitches, to straying up his ink-etched forearms. That’s when he lets her take over the work, when his arms snake over the vale of her waist. When his colossal hands cup lower, when he nudges forward and their mouths brush again. He licks into her mouth and rolls into the gap between her teeth.

Filthy kisses are shrouded behind closed doors, even in the easy ambience of a resort. Furlough on the greedy pursuit of pleasure, on some secluded island with crystalline waters, plus tequila — that’s practically a petri dish for hook up culture. But filthy kisses are saved for the bedroom, and there it’s taste buds doused in citrus limon and gray goose, a tip of a tongue swiping along a row of teeth, basking in the ridges.

“What do you like, little minx?” Harry murmurs. He climbs the column of her throat with the ruddy border of a hungry cavern, and her pulse murmurs back under his mouth. “Hm?”

The blunt tip of his forefinger traces her collarbone, follows a line of cleavage, toys at the cinch in her top; unravels her. It splits down the center, and the straps follow limply down her shoulders. Harry pinches a nipple and scrapes his teeth over her neck, humming again.

Behind closed doors, his red-lycra-mystique (bare, her tits are bare now, in the backdrop of his picture) gets denuded to flesh when she shimmies the dress down her hips. He helps her and then tears his own shirt over his head. It’s hasty, like disrobing takes too much time from a place where time moves slower, riding the water in leisure. Harry still doesn’t know her name, and she slips to her knees, batting her lashes, and takes his buckle apart like unslotting puts the last of the puzzle pieces together.

When her tongue rides under the ridge of his tip, delving and dragging over the prominent vein jutting on the underside of his shaft, he cranes his neck back and makes a sound like she’s torn into his chest with the tips of her french-polished manicure. He punctuates every pornographic, wet sound with dialogue.

“Christ, you’re a dream.”

“Fuck, you’re pretty with cock in your mouth.”

“Yeah, that’s it, just like that, sweetheart.”

“—Y/N,” red-lycra-mystique supplies, gaze bouncing from the twist of her wrists at his base to his face, and then sweeps his bubbling head over her bottom lip and swallows him down halfway.

“Y/N,” Harry mirrors, tone bathed in the same sweetness she radiates at his feet.

And then she trails the very tips of her blunt nails up his sac, and the shiver that rolls up his spine short-circuits every feasible attempt of formulating something in english. Just… gone. Something splinters.

Harry doesn’t cum all over her tongue, despite the pretty mental image he’d cherish of Y/N on her knees with ribbons of silky white coating the insides of her mouth. He thinks about the way he’d dip the pad of his thumb against her tongue, the way he’d stir and scrub it in. He thinks about her lips latching and her cheeks hollowing.

He’s got immense willpower, particularly when she takes him all the way down until her nose nearly brushes the neatly-trimmed tuft of hair the tributary of his happy trail pools into. Because then, she pulls off, chin sloppy with saliva, mouth wide, and stares up at him with this wickedly indelicate curl to the corners of her mouth as she gasps in breaths. Like she wants him to.

Instead, they make it to the bed. He splits her thighs with his palms and spits where she’s puffy and warm, leaky with longing, toying at the seam of her hole with his digits. Smooths the wetness with his thumb when he tucks two fingers in and laves his tongue at the crease between her inner thigh and her cunt. He bumps her clit with the tip and rolls, and her spine arches like the highest point of her torso peaks at the clouds of nirvana.

“You’re a good girl,” Harry tells her, and his voice is so soft, like he’s reassuring an animal that’s backed itself into a corner, “Want you to drench my face.”

And she does, because when he holds a placid, unwavering hand out and talks her so sweetly, lips suckling in a vacuumed ‘o’ between her thighs, what can she do besides roll her hips against his mouth in little, desperate juts, face creased before bliss spumes through every major artery.

When Harry sits back, his chin is sticky, glinting in the buttery cast of the lanterns drilled into the ceiling. He kisses her again until her jaw is stained with her own slick, and despite the entire basis of a one night stand, his tongue meddles into her mouth with the same passion of a man carving a piece of her open. A cozy lacuna just for him in the depths of her chest, something that’ll linger and yearn. A hungry chasm that’ll grumble when her cunt pulses — when he’s not there to fill it. She’ll think of him; a stranger’s leg flitting like a passing speck in the background of her photograph.

Y/N’s cunt hugs him like it can’t get enough.

Eventually.

Because at first, it’s: too big, won’t fit, pleated brows when he’d split her spongy walls apart on the latex-coated tip, stretching to tuck in and hovering to imbibe in miniature ticks of her expression. A twitch in her lashes, a shift in the line of her mouth, a little swallow bobbing down the column of her throat.

“You’re a good girl,” he’d crooned, smoothing a thumb over a rib and then her clit, just to see her squirm more over his cock.

Eventually, she clambers over his lap, planting her palms back over inky, firm muscle. It’s leverage as she bounces to fill that starving cavity — the one he’d drilled with his tongue, like the shape of him can fill every square inch of space before they never see each other again. Hungry, hungry, hungry.��

“Come on, baby, come on,” Harry coaxes, a low groan mottled with breathy pants, “—Shit.”

Momentarily, he pauses the guiding grasp he’s got over her hips to drag the pad of his thumb over his tongue lewdly, smearing spit over the digit and swiping circles over her clit, instead. In response, the rolling pace Y/N has set stutters, knees jolting, and her mussed hair spills off her shoulder as she cranes her neck back.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Yes, yes, yes—“

His eyes flit from her cunt to the ethereal line of her neck, the borders of her shoulders, the shape of her tits bouncing.

Ultimately, of course, his gaze winds back down to ogle where they connect, because that’s the view — that’s where she swallows his cock, thighs splayed and trembling, gliding from the tip until about midway before rising and repeating the cycle. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat. He draws his thumb lower, lets it meddle where they merge, where her hole flutters and rolls over him, gleaning the sticky arousal that coats his shaft and bringing the pad of it back to her clit. His eyes linger. Flicker up. Return to watch her ride and nearly roll back into his head.

He’s carved the void, and later, when she tips forward and her nails scrape over his pecs, feral, she whittles her own. Later, the space between his thighs aches and heats. Something pulses on the underside of his balls. It yearns for blue curaçao, pellucid, crashing waters, and a skimpy red bikini.

#harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles one shots #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader

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frank-o-meter · 30 days

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Poster for Gold Coast Leather Bar

Gold Coast was in business between 1960 to 1988. It was one of the first bars that catered to the gay leather community.

#tom of finland #Gold Coast #leather bay #gay community

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jadiealissia · 6 months

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Worldbuilding Countries (Part 1)

I've lived in and visited a few countries in my life, which gave me a lot of inspiration for my fantasy novel. I'm not an expert, but I thought I'd share what I learned!

Climate

The climate will most likely come up at some point. Do you mention the cool breeze, or the orange leaves on the trees? All those nice weather descriptions will depend on the climate!

If you have a couple of different countries, it may be a little weird if they all have the same climate (especially if they are far away from each other), so there's a few things you can consider to make them a bit more specific.

Climate is of course a very complicated topic, so I will simplify it a bit.

Temperature

I like to pick a real country/city and look at its temperature graphs on Wikipedia. One important thing to note is that countries aren't simply colder/warmer than one another. I know a lot of people think that a country like Russia is cold all year round, but it is actually quite warm in summer. Some areas have a larger variation between temperature throughout the year than others (normally, the closer to the equator a country is, the less variation there is. They also tend to be warmer).

Look at Singapore:

The temperatures are basically stable all year round (the letters up top are the months). The numbers are the average minimum and maximum daily temperatures. You can see that on average the variation every day is less than 10°C.

Here is Moscow:

The temperature changes quite a lot throughout the year. Note that the maximum temperatures (summer) will occur at the opposite times of the year in the Southern Hemisphere.

You can see this demonstrated in Copiapo (Chile):

This city is in the Southern hemisphere, so their coldest months are June and July :)

One thing you may have noticed is that the bars here are taller, which means that the variation for the daily min and max are higher too. Why is that? I'm simplifying it a bit, but generally, the dryer a place is, the more variation you will get in daily temperature. Which brings us to the next thing to consider:

Humidity/Precipitation

There are a few things to consider:

Rainfall. This can vary month-by-month, and due to some complicated factors, some countries have more rain in their colder months, some have more rain in their warmer months. Some places don't follow a neat pattern or stay consistent throughout the year. Have a look at climate pages on Wikipedia to get some ideas! Even just this page on Chile has a lot of cool examples. Each city is quite different!

Although of course the "wetness" of a country related to rainfall (e.g. you'd expect greener grass somewhere with more rainfall, brownish dry grass or a desert somewhere with less rainfall), it's not that simple. UK is a wet country, right? And if you've heard of Gold Coast (Australia) it seems pretty dry, right? Well, actually the Gold Coast gets twice as much precipitation (rain) as London!

To demonstrate, I took a screenshot (randomly selected street in each city) from Google Streetview.

Why this difference? I suspect it's because the Gold Coast is much hotter. Living in Australia, puddles are normally gone by the next day (often the rain even evaporates as it hits the ground!), but in UK, the puddles would always stay around for a while.

The UK is always mossy, often the clouds hang in the sky for ages. It can look quite grey. When it rains in the Gold Coast in summer, the raindrops evaporate as soon as they hit the pavement, which makes the air feel very humid and smell strongly of rain. You can use these sorts of sensory details in your stories :)

Also, one thing I noticed, is that in hotter weather, rain can be much more heavy than in colder weather. In Australia we often get heavy rain that causes flooding. In UK the rain usually dribbles all day but doesn't get heavy. In a place like the Gold Coast you can get rain that last 10 minutes but soaks you all the way through and floods the street.

The rainfall may also vary year-by-year. Australia goes through periods of floods and droughts that last a couple of years. The mechanism is a bit complicated so I won't go through it now, but it gives you something to google!

Humidity: Deserts have low humidity, which means that you can cool off more easily in the shade and the nights are colder. The breeze feels more refreshing at low humidity as your sweat evaporates.

High humidity (like Singapore) will feel much hotter at the same temperatures and it is normally still quite hot in the shade. High humidity feels really muggy, the air feels thick. The sweat doesn't evaporate as much, so you are left all wet and sticky. The breeze can feel much less refreshing because of this.

When the temperature is below freezing, the humidity gets very low, so your skin may need more moisturiser or your lips may crack.

Those are just some things to consider while describing your weather!

Generally, closer to the sea will be wetter, further inland is dryer. Have a look at some climate maps on Wikipedia, you will learn a lot! Climate is quite complicated since there are so many factors, so there's a lot you can do with it.

UV: This is one thing that people often forget about when they think about weather. In the UK, even on a very hot and sunny day, you are unlikely to get sunburnt (unless you are very pale). In Australia, you can get sunburnt very easily in even Tasmania, which is our coldest state, even when the temperatures are chilly.

You can't actually feel being sunburnt, which I fully understood when I visited Tasmania. I was freezing, but the whole time I was being sunburnt.

Normally, UV index is higher closer to the equator, which is why people who live closer to the equator tend to have darker skin. The melanin acts as protection against the sun. Still, this protection isn't perfect, so in the real world people in Africa used different methods to protect their skin, such as using clay as a "sunscreen".

Australia has the highest rate of skin cancer in the world. This is partially because most people in Australia have pale skin (originally from the UK), but the UV index is high.

This is something to consider in your story, since it can play a bigger role in behaviour than you'd expect if you live in a cold climate. In Australia, they recommend staying indoors between certain hours of the day to avoid sunburn, and if you do go out you should wear clothes that cover your skin, a wide-brimmed hat and sunscreen. Someone with very pale skin can get sunburnt in minutes. Wide-brimmed hats are compulsory at schools in Australia - you are not allowed to play if you forget your hat.

In low-UV areas, there is the opposite issue. People with darker skin can have problems getting vitamin D. Same goes for people who cover their skin with clothing (e.g. for religious reasons). However, this is a bit simpler to fix with some vitamin D supplements.

How do I use this for worldbuilding?

If you have a map of your countries, you may want to keep their location in mind when deciding on the climate :)

I like to draw up some graphs with the temperatures throughout the year for each country and some quick notes on the humidity, rainfall and UV.

You can also add some other elements to your story. Is it a fantasy? Maybe magic affects the weather! Sci-fi? You can play with the distance of the planet from the sun, axial tilt, sun size etc. (I won't go into that since it's a whole another topic and really complicated as well)

You probably don't need to know the exact details of the climate for most stories, but having a general idea will allow you to consistently describe what sorts of clothing your characters wear, the weather etc. Those are the sorts of things that comes up in almost every story (if it's long enough).

If you read this and found this useful, please reblog so I know that it was helpful. If it seems like people enjoyed this post, I will make more (I was going to talk about so much more, but this is already too long).

#writeblr #writeblr community #creative writing #world building #writing tips #writing resources #writing advice #how to write #fantasy #science fiction #climate #writing #novel writing #comic writing #worldbuilding #fantasy worldbuilding #fantasy world #writing community #writer stuff

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outdoorfurniturespecialist · 1 year

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Creating a perfect outdoor sitting area is a dream come true, where entertaining guests and enjoying a cozy environment are top priorities. To achieve this, functional outdoor bar settings can be a fantastic addition to your consideration list. However, don't forget to pay attention to the essential elements that can enhance your outdoor space even further. In this infographic, we have discussed the Features of outdoor bar settings. Visit https://www.baskoutdoorliving.com.au/collections/bar-settings

#outdoor bar settings #outdoor bar furniture #outdoor furniture #outdoor furniture outlet #outdoor furniture specialist #outdoor dining chairs #outdoor dining chairs gold coast

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comicaurora · 2 years

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What other mythological creatures would be fun in space? If the answer is "most of them?", Then limit the scope of the question to what becomes *more* fun in space?

Still "most of them," unfortunately.

Deep in the bowels of a derelict, drifting hulk, so battered with cosmic rays and space debris all sign of its original function have eroded away, something that could have been human roams the labyrinthine halls. Who knows what terrible crime or tragedy spawned it? It is huge, and hungry, and terribly, terribly alone. All anyone knows is that the drifting hulk that screams to the void in a hundred looping distress calls is to be avoided at all costs, for the maze is deadly and its lone prisoner even deadlier.

An enchanting woman knocks on the porthole with a broad smile, hair flowing in beautiful curls and mouth moving soundlessly in the boiling vacuum. She seems unaware of the inch-thick tempered plasteel, or perhaps unaware of its necessity for the mortal and the fragile within. As she stares unblinking, whispers begin to crackle over the ship radio, half-parseable snatches in many voices - surnames, stardates, coordinates. The knowledge is so, so tempting.

The astronaut is standing just outside the airlock. The sun is starting to sink behind the lunar horizon, cutting razor-sharp shadows across the silvery dust. He's been standing, patiently, for over four hours. The crew in the lander are huddled as far away from the door as possible, unconacipusly avoiding the astronaut's cold and vacant bunk. They had buried him, after all, three rotations ago, the special kind of dead you only get after decompression-induced exsanguination. And yet here he stands, looking better than ever, a healthy blush in his cheeks clearly visible without that bulky reflective helmet in the way. His eyes catch the setting sun strangely, almost red.

Space is an ocean, they say; the analogy is imperfect, and yet persistent in its poetry. The seafarers of old coasted along the surface of a vast and unknowable deep and called it sailing, and the spacefarers of the new frontier do the same. They speed between the stars or cut through wormhole gates for the occasional shortcut, skimming the three-dimensional surface of the vast four-dimensional space that wormholes can only tentatively pierce, and they are satisfied. But there are strange shadows in the stars, twisting and slow - distortions that ripple out from the hyperdepth and mostly pass without incident, barring the sensitive instruments left screaming in their wake. Nobody has ever seen the four-dimensional leviathans that cast these three-dimensional shadows. At least, nobody who's come back.

They call it a dragon because it flies and it's the scariest thing they've ever seen. It doesn't do it justice. If anything, trying to give it a familiar name only highlights its horrible uncategorizability. It flies, yes - or at least it undulates through atmosphere, seemingly irrelevant to its own mass. It has a golden hoard and breathes poison and fire, or rather the nuclear furnace that boils in its sinuous belly vomits out great gouts of poison fire that leaves stone and flesh as glassy slag and metals fused into radioactive gold. The land all around its lair is blackened and sick, a vile caldera of strange-colored swampland and twisted, fungal trees. In the absolute terror and devastation of its wake, the colonists fall back on old, bad superstitions and offer it a girl…

The sorcerer took out his heart long ago, they say. This is true, but inadequate. His true body is shattered in closely guarded pieces to protect himself from a total death; the form he presents is only a projection of his will onto and through the nanite colony his machinations spawned, a body crafted by the immortal mind and will of one who sacrificed everything to be deathless. His heart is concealed in a small life support capsule in a long-forgotten laboratory in a satellite orbiting the moon of a quarantined colony world; his nervous system wires itself through the vast, organic computer that has taken the place of the planet's core. Backups of backups of backups, redundancies laced through every stolen system. He knows there was a purpose to this, once; a goal to all this sacrifice beyond a simple extension of life. He will never remember who he wanted this for. To be truly deathless, one cannot have a heart.

It's retroviral, they think. No other form of infection could've rewired her cells this fundamentally. It's irreversible without gene therapy, but at least she isn't deteriorating, they say. At least she's holding together while they look for a treatment. She can feel it, though, no matter what the medic says; sub-cellular or not, she can feel it boiling under her skin, sharpening her teeth, burning out from the site of the bite on her arm. And she can feel, with absolute certainty, the planet's two satellites slowly shifting into opposition with the sun, right through the windowless walls of the quarantine pod. She doesn't know what she'll become when the moons are full, but she doesn't speak her suspicions. A part of her - perhaps even a part that's always been there - is very, very eager to find out.

A colony was here once, a long, long time ago. Terraformed and everything, but those were the early days, before they realized you needed a magnetosphere to keep all that air and water from being wicked away by the solar wind. The loss was so gradual it didn't make sense until over a century later, and there wasn't anything they could do for them long-term - wrong kind of core for a polarization op. They did evac, of course, but the priority was low - and it was centuries deep into social development. Everybody on that world had been born there, and some of them didn't want to leave. Way I hear it, some of them insisted on staying - strongly and violently - and the folks in charge eventually got tired of losing troops in a dessicating backwater that was gonna solve itself in less than a century, so they just fudged the paperwork and washed their hands of the whole thing. It's near airless now - stopped being a viable colony world nigh on thirty years back when the last of the ice vanished. But that's not why we steer clear. We don't land there because the locals didn't have the decency to die right, and it can be damn unsettling to catch their shadows sneaking across the sand. They're drawn to ships, you know? Poor bastards still think they can leave.

#asks #not aurora #writing stuff #love 2 horror write instead of slep

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37sommz-archive · 6 months

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✼. THRU SPACE 'N TIME | PROFILE.

Born in Gold Coast, Australia on December 23, 1999, Michaela Sommers was introduced to the world of motorsports from a early age. Her father, Tobias, and his younger brother, Travis Sommers, were avid Formula racing fans who idolized the likes of Senna, Schumacher, and Lauda. The motorsports bug skipped over Sommers' older sister, Samantha, before biting her at the mere age of six. By her ninth birthday, Michaela was competing in karting championships along the Australian east coast.

Despite her natural aptitude for racing, Michaela recalls facing discrimination for both her race and gender quite early on while karting. Despite the negativity that would swirl around her reputation, the young driver would win her first national championship at the age of twelve with plenty of rumors circling concerning her future in the sport. Sommers would attempt to enter her first international competition, but was barred from entry after her father lost his job in the summer of 2012.

Without much hope, Michaela would step back from racing for nearly six months before eventually deciding to join her uncle who had moved to England after his marriage just years prior. Travis then became Michaela's manager, working endlessly to ensure his niece would be able to continue climbing the karting ladder. Shortly after her move to England, her uncle would connect with Australian F1 driver Mark Webber who would travel to watch her race in a regional competition in 2013. Stunned by her potential, Webber helped the young girl to catch the attention of a racing team competing in the Ginetta Junior Championship alongside future McLaren teammate Lando Norris. Sommers' transition to racing cars would prove successful, securing a junior championship at just 14 years old.

Sommers would continue working through the ranks, receiving extensive media attention and comparisons to Lewis Hamilton as a teenager. Spending one year at the Formula 3 level, Michaela would race for British team Jagonya Ayam in 2015 finishing fifth in the championship and second in the rookie cup, both below Charles Leclerc. Her performance would catch the attention of Italian team Prema Racing who signed her to development for higher formulae alongside Pierre Gasly for the 2016 season.

Despite an average result, ending her rookie season in sixth place, Prema would resign the Australian who would be simultaneously be selected to join the Ferrari driver development program for the 2017 season. That same year, Sommers would wrap up her Formula 2 season in second place, once again behind Charles Leclerc.

Eventually, Michaela would finally secure a Formula 2 championship in 2018 while signing on as a reserve driver for Ferrari. Her official Formula One debut came after Sommers signed on to be Alfa Romeo's second-seat driver for the 2019 season, securing one-point in her debut race before finishing her rookie season in eighth place.

✹.⠀⠀،،⠀THE BASICS.

birth name: michaela jeanette sommers alias: mickey sommers date of birth: december 23, 1999 zodiac sign: capricorn hometown: gold coast, australia ethnicity: australian & xhosa nationality: australian, south african languages: english, italian weight: 121 lbs (55 kg) height: 5'7" (169 cm) dominant hand: left family: tobias sommers, miriam sommers, samantha sommers faceclaim: tinara westbrook

✹.⠀⠀،،⠀THE FORMULA CAREER.

01. GINETTA JUNIOR CHAMPIONSHIP (2014). ✼.⠀team: jhr developments ✼.⠀number: #72 ✼.⠀teammates: alex sedgwick, dan zelos, jamie chadwick, senna proctor ✼.⠀highest race finish: 1st (x7) ✼.⠀championship standing: 1st

02. FORMULA THREE (2015). ✼.⠀team: jagonya ayam ✼.⠀number: #54 ✼.⠀teammates: gustavo menezes, ryan tveter ✼.⠀highest race finish: 1st (x1) ✼.⠀championship standing: 5th

03. GP2 SERIES (2016). ✼.⠀team: prema racing ✼.⠀number: #20 ✼.⠀teammates: pierre gasly ✼.⠀highest race finish: 1st (x3) ✼.⠀championship standing: 6th

04. FORMULA TWO (2017). ✼.⠀team: prema racing ✼.⠀number: #2 ✼.⠀teammates: charles leclerc ✼.⠀highest race finish: 1st (x5) ✼.⠀championship standing: 2nd

05. FORMULA TWO (2018). ✼.⠀team: prema racing ✼.⠀number: #3 ✼.⠀teammates: nyck de vries ✼.⠀highest race finish: 1st (x7) ✼.⠀championship standing: 1st

06. FORMULA ONE (2019). ✼.⠀team: alfa romeo racing ✼.⠀number: #37 ✼.⠀teammates: kimi raikkonen ✼.⠀highest race finish: 4th (x1) ✼.⠀championship standing: 7th

07. FORMULA ONE (2020). ✼.⠀team: alfa romeo racing ✼.⠀number: #37 ✼.⠀teammates: kimi raikkonen ✼.⠀highest race finish: 3rd (x2) ✼.⠀championship standing: 7th

08. FORMULA ONE (2021). ✼.⠀team: mclaren ✼.⠀number: #37 ✼.⠀teammates: lando norris ✼.⠀highest race finish: 1st (x1) ✼.⠀championship standing: 4th

09. FORMULA ONE (2022). ✼.⠀team: mclaren ✼.⠀number: #37 ✼.⠀teammates: lando norris ✼.⠀highest race finish: 1st (x2) ✼.⠀championship standing: 4th

10. FORMULA ONE (2023). ✼.⠀team: aston martin ✼.⠀number: #37 ✼.⠀teammates: fernando alonso ✼.⠀highest race finish: 2nd (x7) ✼.⠀championship standing: 3rd

✼. view:⠀navigation page⠀⸻⠀join the taglist⠀⸻⠀request.

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chutneymarysindianrestaurant · 2 years

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youtube

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#Indian food gold coast #Order indian food online gold coast #Indian food delivery near me #Best Indian restaurant near me #Gold coast no1 restaurant and bar #Youtube

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ay0nha · 11 months

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LIFE IS BUT A DREAM | SHANKS (OPLA)

SUMMARY: You had done unspeakable things, figuring it was an acceptable way to siphon your affection. You were young and blinded by false idolization. Shanks chose to see the best in you, even now, even after everything. He, too, was blinded by an image of you that hadn’t changed since you were young.

PAIRING: OPLA!Shanks x f!reader (Gold D. Roger's daughter)

WORDS COUNT: 3K~

WARNINGS: canon-typical things, enemies to lovers, jail, talk of death and things related, morally grey reader, ANGST, RUSHED ending, flowery language, injuries, blood, murder, random ocs (aka fictional villains inserts), idk really what the plot is besides just straight angst lol, etc.

A/N: I got a couple of Shanks requests, so I combined them all as they were very similar. Thank you SO much to @wood-white-writer for inspiring my reader and helping me along, and @togenabi for entertaining my rambling! I'm begging you to go check out their fics because they are *divine*. Enjoy.

The waves that thrust against the coast lulled you into a meditative state. It made the time pass with uncertainty. Even the briny smell of the warm breeze cradled you in a way that pulled the weight from your shoulders.

You never thought jail to be so idyllic.

It was tempting to postpone your escape for a bit longer; there were only so many opportunities to stretch your spine and rest. Yet, your left eye twitched, warning you your premonition was soon to be true.

It was on the simpler side, a vision of dark shadows intentionally elusive. The bars that separated you from the world were bent, promising damage from the strength that wasn’t your own. You knew he was coming. It was sooner than you thought, but you learned long ago that your foresight would never be reliable.

It favored him over you.

When you were younger, you thought you were crazy, seeing apparitions or former lives. However, as years passed, familiar faces began to fill your vision, showing truths you became excited to fulfill. But they became warped with opposing desires and reverberating fear wreathed with vindication.

It made things sour and sore. It allowed trouble to seek you out just to be ill-prepared for your counter. It wasn’t bravery that energized you, nor was it skill. Pure spite drove you to be the worst of all.

“On your feet.”

The serenity you had slipped through your fingers like warm sand. The guard repeated his command, using force to pull at the chains connecting your limbs. You couldn’t help but smile at what he thought was a punishment.

“Rumor has it, you’re hot shit.” The guard scoffed, voice echoing the dripping hallways. The way he trailed your body exposed his lust. “They’re not wrong by the looks of it…”

The guard’s weak come-ons warbled in your ears like a white noise. You used the moment to fulfill a repeated daydream. That liminal space presented your strength as you pulled your chains around the guard’s neck until there was no longer resistance.

The conversations were typically cyclical, feigned disinterest to disguise the anxiety your proximity created or those whose egos convinced they could charm you. You stopped paying attention to the rumors the more embellished they became. To some, you were a mercenary; to others, a frenzied psychopath.

The only truth they held was how deliberately unrestrained you were willing to be. There was no rhyme or reason behind it; at least you were close to convincing yourself of that. Regardless, it had gotten you far, the only thing you’d even consider reliable.

“You hear something?” The guard perked, pulling you harshly toward him. How brave of him to use me as a shield, you thought. Your attention returned when it sounded again, “Shit!—

The bang was loud—time had bested you.

You were lucky to recognize the canon’s whistle and use the commotion to regain an advantage. The current reality had yet to become your destiny. If you moved quickly enough, you wouldn’t have to catch your death in such a dilapidated place.

Maneuvering your body unnaturally, you felt for the knife hidden on your thigh. The guard was panicking despite training not to split on whether to keep his eyes on you or the trouble you unknowingly caused.

Using his momentary stupor, your chains wrapped tightly around his throat. It was better than any dream to feel the way the air caught in his body, never to be released. Any lingering struggle stopped when your knife found an artery.

The blood sputtered, feeling warm against your hands. It was messy, but its carnality evoked an almost erotic sensation that was inimitable. Plenty felt power connected to the strength it took to take away something vital. It corrupted them and blinded them from the true potentiality of the action.

It made life seem like nothing more than overflowing fragility. It was well-known time with the world and sea was limited, and eventually, everyone would end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. There was a purposeful lack of originality there solely due to fear of change.

Yet, when one danced with death, you became the music.

You wiped your fingers across your neck, rubbing the tight knots that met at your shoulders. The fresh blood would stain your skin, but you craved a performance. You readied yourself for the approaching marine boots. The staging was almost too believable, but every second was convincing.

“Fuck. Fuck—” The words tumbled from your quivering lip. You couldn’t think of anything else, repeating the curse. You smeared the blood on your shirt, a mindless move to rid yourself of taking someone’s life. “Help me, please. This man—I don’t—he came after me—the others are still back there, they’ll be here any moment—I didn’t know what to do—

“Still with the theatrics, eh?”

Your crocodile tears ceased to stream down your cheeks. The feigned, horrified expression turned into an unearthed fury. Shame on you for missing the stray red hairs at the nape of the guard’s neck.

“Shanks.” You greeted dryly. “You’re early.”

It was hard for Shanks to meet your eye. He was far from intimidated, but the wild look in your eyes made him hesitate. The years had been kind to you as if you traded your soul for youth. But it was a foolish thought that the devil would be so naive to make a deal with you.

“Was that necessary?” Shanks nodded to the man behind you.

“And I thought the canons were a bit excessive.” You tutted as if your opposing opinions were trivial. “And yet here we are…”

“Love—

You hadn’t believed in love, and you were ready to carry that grudge—until him. It wasn’t proper love, proving your skepticism in the emotion correctly. But it was the closest you’ve ever been, could ever be.

You had done unspeakable things, figuring it was an acceptable way to siphon your affection. You were young and blinded by false idolization. Shanks chose to see the best in you, even now, even after everything. He, too, was blinded by an image of you that hadn’t changed since you were young.

“Let’s get this on with,” You stopped him, moving swiftly to feel the body below you for anything valuable. “Tumole gave me up, then? That’s how you found me? Bastard.”

You smiled at the image: Shanks holding the poor man upside down, kindness still in his threats to find you. Violence was never necessary with Tumole, always one to ramble away anyone’s secret for safety. However, it was as though you subconsciously left a clue, but you knew the crumbs Shanks found weren’t worth it.

“You really wasted your crew’s time on me...” You stood, pulling your neck until it popped. It had been a while since you had a one-on-one with Shanks, but you knew he’d always pull his punches. “Must really be desperate—

“I won’t fight you.” He tracked your posture. Your exterior was calm, but with every twitch calculated, you were nearing rabid. “It’s not worth it.”

“Tell me, then, what I’m worth to you, Shanks?” You taunted. It was obvious what he wanted to say: saving. His emotion was always his weakness.

His pause was intentional, stalling of sorts to let the exchange sink in. Standing under Shanks ' gaze, your body had a new form of reprieve. A facade wasn’t necessary, but you weren’t willing to lose more of yourself to another.

Your anger dissipated into a haze. It pulled a frown from Shanks as your breathing steadied only to slow. The harder you blinked, the more you forgot your argument. Even if you had held onto it, the lump in your throat wouldn’t allow it to exist.

Shanks’ lips shaped your name, but all you could hear was a mild ringing, a buzz. His step forward elicited an instinct to step back.

“Don’t—” You spat. Your left arm was like static, numb from the shoulder down, an ironic consequence of dismissing your opposite. “—fucking touch me.”

Your vision was the last to go, allowing you to watch yourself crumble; your knees locked, and the palm of your hands broke your fall, exposing how blood pooled from your arm. When did that happen? It had nothing to do with pain tolerance or adrenaline; you were distracted by your vision, doing what you could to change its form.

However, your effort was useless to make sense of it. You read it wrong; forgetting things such as foresight was rarely linear. As the world around you closed in, clouding your vision, you realized the open bars weren’t an entrance to your cell. Rather, it was the exit Shanks carried you through with success.

You were never destined to win.

—

The dream always teased you with muddled memories.

They always started the same, a mirrored image of the room you grew up in. Only a few feet separated the sacks the headmistress would call your beds. Your fingertips felt the scratchy fabric of the cheap blankets.

When the dreams first began, you believed they were real, that you’d never left the dormitory of the dingy children’s home. But the feeling of the monochrome bedding was always wrong, your dream never quite getting the textures correct. So, there was no room for nostalgia.

It was as if you were stuck in a loop, hand rhythmically gliding across the bedding in hopes of softening it. It was neither tranquil nor eerie. Its structure was that of a fever dream, its kaleidoscope quality provoking you to interpret it.

Its symbolization didn’t go past you, but it always felt uninvolved—superficial even. At the time, your child wonderment knew no difference between the life you had and the life you were meant to exist in.

As any child did, you dreamed of silks and decadent food. Candies and luxuries. You dreamed of family and warmth. Hope drove those fantasies, but there was no point in clinging to hope when you found out you weren’t wanted.

Gol D. Roger. Pirate King. The name circled every coastal town and seeped into every deep forest. His mirth was enviable, and his skill indomitable. You wanted to hold indifference toward him, but every bounty you saw enamored you. He made hope seem regainable.

You looked down at your hand, seeing your hand change shape with each slow swipe across the bed. Your slender fingers became older, calloused. Experienced. Moving to see the palm, you saw the lifeline had ended and an elaborate red sleeve scratched at your—Gol D. Roger’s—wrist.

You flinched as if you were burnt. You wanted to rid yourself of the attachment by any means. But it didn’t matter when your blood was intertwined. There was no escaping your lineage, your father.

The longer you lingered with the feeling, your surroundings slowly morphed. A wind picked up but hadn’t raised chills across your arms—not yet. You wanted to stretch now that your hand became your own again.

However, a sway lulled you into your environment. The ships were always different, never ones you recognized. You’d like to praise your brain’s creativity, but you knew you’d step foot on every deck at some point in life. If you were smart, you would have noted each and every one. It was hard to when the horizon seemed so…

“The tide is strange…” You hummed. Although your voice vibrated in your chest, it felt delayed, like an echo of someone else.

A hand trailed your spine with warmth. Goosebumps littered your body. You hadn’t thought to fight them, knowing the touch belonged to someone who put far too much faith in you.

“Am I finally rubbing off on you?” Shanks matched your hum, creating more serenity than you could handle. It was purposeful to calm you and invite you in.

“No, no…” You echoed again, shaking your head. Shanks continued with his charm, making promises that the sea and he could fulfill. However, your eyes didn’t leave the shore, the tide much more vast than you’ve ever seen. “...no, there’s—There’s something changing it.” You paused, nausea hitting you boldly. “...someone…maybe? Don’t you feel that?”

Another laugh, more hollow than the last. You had yet to face Shanks, only trusting his touch. It started to burn when you finally turned to him. He was physically present, but his eyes were vacant as if a copy of himself.

“Love, just try and relax.” His smile was plastered, almost painfully. “Nothing's wrong anymore. Nothing will change—

You frowned. “Shanks—

“She won’t hurt us.” Shanks caught you in his hold. You finally understood the deception and recognized the wolf in sheep’s clothing. “She gave me her word.”

—

You jolted awake.

The image wasn’t explicit, but it made you squirm; your back arched against the deck’s railing until your fingertips touched the waves below. You never sunk or floated, but you breathed in the water and felt it swallow you whole with a salty taste.

Your chest was tight, careful not to suck in your breath too quickly. Despite still being bleary-eyed, you knew you weren’t alone. You knotted your fingers in the bed’s fabric to ground you. The room's scent reminded you to breathe before succumbing to your subconscious torture again.

“You alright?” Shanks called from the deepest corner of the room. He was swift to strike a match to see your condition for himself.

The candlelight illuminated the gauze that nurtured your stiff arm. Shanks reprimanded you slightly as you pushed yourself up. Shanks knew you well, understanding that you were already seeking an escape from whatever plagued you. The look in your eye told him you would run regardless of a purpose.

“What did you see?” His voice remained calm, tone unwavering with vigilance.

“I didn’t.” Your defiance was your only form of defense on his ship.

Slight relief came from how Shank’s eyebrow dared to twitch with frustration. It meant he was real. Your blood pumped slower at the unorthodox respite. You continued to move, to stand despite your sore body. Shanks was still blocking your way to the door, but you paced lightly to rid yourself of the jitters.

“You can talk to me.” Shanks knew you were frazzled, and he was determined to coax the cause out of you. “I understand why you’re—

“Daddy dearest has nothing to do with this.” You hissed, hating the assumption. “Don’t you understand there was a reason your beloved captain left me to rot all those years ago? When will you learn to do the same?”

Shanks didn’t lack sympathy for you, but he understood why your father chose to keep you away from the life that proved only to hurt you. Shanks intended to keep the promise he made to you before you learned it was by the instruction of your father.

“I gave my word.” Shanks countered. His word choice made you flinch, your dream still fresh. He softened to repeat himself. “I gave my word to keep you safe. This has nothing to do with —

“Safe with a pirate, eh?” You scoffed, picking up what was most likely a stolen treasure. You held no qualms with his lifestyle, but you refused the overlap Shanks wanted to share. “That’ll be the fucking day.”

You felt a needle of pain in your nose like you were near tears, the guilt settling the bile in your throat. The game of cat and mouse was getting old. It was a facetious argument you used for distraction. The bravado you held was angry and vengeful.

“I know you’ve heard the rumors…” Shanks sighed as if his strategy to coax a conversation out of you backfired. “Cain is spreading out, searching for you. She won’t stop this time.”

You dropped the small object of treasure back into its place. Any emotion was swallowed and digested. There was little energy left to pretend to argue. You needed to leave the room before you suffocated. Shanks wouldn’t block if you tried.

You lingered, waiting for him to spit out the obvious. “Look, I know you saw her—

“I felt her.” Your expression, even mixed with vulnerability, was composed with passivity. Your composure could fool most, but to a trained eye, your discomfort was obvious.

Your admission was desperate, breaking a tension that had filled the air. You wouldn’t crumble. You tried to hold it in, breathing evenly to suppress any sobbing urge. It was neither the time nor the place for added emotion.

“I need to know the full story.” He replied thoughtfully.

He mistook his demeanor for bravery, but his true bravery formed by being across from you. The only barrier seemed to be Shanks’ incorruptible moral code, a space where you couldn’t quite freely exist.

You wanted so badly to trust him. You sought his comfort. The feeling felt foreign, so you prickled.

“You already know how it ends. What does the rest matter?” You always leaned on pessimism. “I want nothing to do with this. With her.”

“I’ll be beside you the entire time,” Shanks promised, voice low and steady, reflecting his sincerity. You could make out the warmth he was willing to share, but you couldn’t accept it wholly.

“And my interests?”

Shanks’ expression fell slightly at your evasive rejection. “It depends on where they lie.”

In an ideal world, you’d like to think you and Shanks could be friends. Frankly, though, his compassion made you nauseous. Or maybe it was nerves. The feeling was always hard for you to distinguish. You wished the way he looked at you would warm your chest, but it only reminded you of how that was another impossibility.

Although you were still present, Shanks watched you flee. Your guard returned stronger, but he didn’t regret his words. Shanks’ eyes were pleading, and you went to chastise him, but you found something distinct there.

You didn’t know what to do with it, but to muse a buried thought. "...Empathy will get you killed, Shanks.”

“Then, I am a dead man walking.”

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thewritingmagician2022 · 6 months

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Exploring the Devildom - Brothers and Datebables

This comes from a request I received: I am weak, have little stamina and have little to no experience exploring or hiking. That said, I would want to see all the best parts of the devildom! I love animals big and small, land or sea. I may not swim the best but seeing the colorful creatures fill me with joy. Also I bet there are dragons and I want one! *Begging sheep eyes* Buy me dragon, plz. Could I request a weak MC who wants to do more exploring and sightseeing but can't quite keep up with the brothers (and maybe date-ables)?

Lucifer

Lucifer doesn’t have much time for exploring the Devildom; there are other far more important matters to tend to. He normally passes that kind of interaction off to his brothers but you manage to catch his attention with your questions, especially once he hears you asking about dragons. Of course the Devildom has dragons and no, you are absolutely not going near any of them. Do you really think he’s going to let you near dragons? Stop those puppy dog eyes this instant. There’s no chance in Hell -

Okay, so maybe he’s going to show you some dragons because it’s a good learning experience or something, not because you kept begging him. Dragons are pretty rare, even in the Devildom, but they do have conservation areas where they keep some of the most endangered species of dragons to help promote population regrowth. After enough begging, he’ll take you out there one day. The area is huge (it has to be because dragons are very big, at the least species you’re getting to see) and it takes an awful lot of walking around. Luckily, Lucifer has enough tact to not comment on your obvious weariness and you get plenty of times for breaks when you stop to admire the dragons. You can’t get very close to them for your own safety, no matter how much you plead with Lucifer, but he does manage to get you a tour of the breeding facilities where all the eggs are being cared for. You get to touch several of them and even get the honor of taking home a beautiful pearlescent piece of shell that’s several inches long and, in the bright light, you can see through it almost like a piece of glass. It’s a perfect excursion and Lucifer knows he’s going to have to bring you back sometime again.

Mammon

If you want Mammon to show you around the Devildom, he would be happiest driving you around along the coast in one of his custom cars and going to a bar or party along the beach. That’s about as outdoorsy as he likes to get but if you’re the one asking him to explore more, he’ll do it. If Mammon’s recent story is to be believed, he’s not someone who is great with outdoorsy adventures. He could barely handle carrying your picnic supplies but he doesn’t let his lack of athleticism stop him. He’s also one of the brothers least likely to care about your inability to handle lots of physical activity. He needs the breaks almost as much as you do and you too can complain to each other about the effort while you struggle to catch your breath.

Mammon’s going to introduce you to all the aviary aspects of the Devildom when you’re out together. His familiars are crows after all; he’s got an in with the birds and is always able to get them to gather around you guys, like little groupies. Crows, ravens, nightingales, eagles, hummingbirds, cardinals, etc. You’ve seen birds of every kind of color and pattern, heard the most beautiful songs and trills and coos, fed them seeds and meats that you bring on your trips even when the bags are already too heavy to be comfortable. You’ve even seen a phoenix once, high up in the sky during one of your picnics by the lake, and the tendrils of gold and red trailing after it are one of the most mesmerizing things you’ve ever seen - well worth the exhaustion of the hike.

Levi

Getting Levi to leave the house is no easy task. He would much prefer to be home in his own room than actually going out and exploring the Devildom. The only way to really get him out of there is by begging him to take you to the beach to meet Lotan. Levi can’t refuse a beach trip, especially when you’re ready to coo over his pet. Normally Levi would be nervous about taking you anywhere, worried about it being a date or if you’re going to be bored or disappointed and is he really the best demon to be showing you anything but this is sort of his second home and he feels much more confident. He’s happy to lead you right into the water to get an up close view of Lotan and all of the different oceanic creatures the Devildom offer.

Swimming may be a little difficult in the ocean but with Levi there to keep you afloat, you don’t need to worry. Levi is a strong swimmer and is happy (and terrified) to be carrying you through the water and helping you float so you don’t spend too much energy that you don’t have. He’s going to keep you safe from everything and he knows all of the secrets of the ocean. He can name all of the coral and plants, the stones, the fish. He’s almost as animated as he gets when he speaks about his anime. By the time you’re done for the day, you know more about the marine life here than you do at home.

Satan

In true Satan fashion, he shows you all around the bookstores, galleries, and museums that the Devildom has to offer. He complains that it doesn’t have nearly as many as it should and he has quite the critical eye for the things that are displayed. Half the time, he has more extensive knowledge of the exhibits than the signs convey and he ends up explaining each piece to you. The best part about this is that he’s happy to settle you onto any nearby seat (even if he has to scare people off of it) and spend time talking about what you’ve seen so that you have time to rest because he knows just how much walking goes into this.

He makes sure to take you the natural history museum too because he knows how much you love animals and nature. He points out the animals that are similar to the ones found on Earth and explains what makes them different, and he is happy to do any interactive exhibits that you may life, even if he normally wouldn’t. He for sure buys you some sort of cat or book based item from the gift shop to commemorate your time together.

Asmo

Asmo would love to show you around the Devildom! However, like Mammon, he’s not a huge fan of the outdoors and he’s certainly not gallivanting around with animals aside from the stray photoshoot. He’ll end up showing you the downtown city center. Of course his favorite places tend to be stores where he drags you around to shop and, when you get tired, he’ll seat you in a dressing room where you can watch him try on different outfits and give your opinions.

Asmo is also going to take you to the “coolest” places at the time whether it’s a club, arcade, cafe, exhibition, etc. He wants you to experience all of the most popular things the Devildom has to offer and, with all of his fans regularly following you guys around, someone is always around to carry your things or fetch you table/bench as needed so you never have to worry about being forced to stand for too long.

Beel

Beel is going to show you around all of the best restaurants, cafes, and dessert shops around the Devildom has to offer. He is allowed into any establishment he likes because he buys them out entirely so he’s definitely a VIP customer. This means you never have to stand around waiting for a table, you’re sat down almost immediately. These outings are very easy on you, though the food may not always sit very well considering most of it is made out of ingredients that you don’t have on Earth.

Beel will happily give you piggy back ride around town too as you travel from restaurant to restaurant. If you try to complain about burdening him, he’ll brush you off and mention how good it is for him to walk and lift after eating all of that food. You’re just helping him build up his appetite so he can truly appreciate the next place you guys stop at. Honestly, you’re the one doing him a favor.

Belphie

Belphie’s favorite thing to show you is the stars. Yes, the observatory at the House of Lamentation is great for an indoor view for when it’s cold or rainy or you’re just not interested in going outside. However, there are much better views to be had if you take the time to go find them, especially in the open fields far away from the city heart of the Devildom. Belphie bribes Beel into driving you guys out to the fields, the car packed with snacks and blankets and pillows while you’re bundled up in your comfiest pajamas. You guys set up your little area and lay there for hours, watching the sky change.

This far from the lights, you’re able to see so much more. You can see so many stars and constellations, the ones Belphie’s told you about before and new ones, as well as glimpses of other planets and galaxies. He tells you all sorts of stories, myths and legends of the Devildom, and even opens up about how it compares to the starry views in the celestial realm. It’s mesmerizing in the deep darkness of the Devildom and Belphie holds your hand to make sure it’s not too overwhelming. You may end up falling asleep out there with him and it’s some of the best sleep you’ve ever had.

Diavolo

Diavolo has very little free time to explore and enjoy the Devildom, which is such a shame considering it’s the place he’s set to rule. Having you on the exchange program here, asking to learn more about this place and see more of what it has to offer, creates the perfect excuse for Diavolo to get out of the palace. The place Diavolo is going to bring you is the botanical gardens. Now, they’re not quite as pristine and impressive as the gardens at the palace (Barbatos does a wonderful job there) but there is more diversity and it all feels more organic. It gives you both the chance to learn more about the beauties and dangers of this realm, and it’s an incredibly romantic and sweet backdrop for your time together.

The gardens are huge, sprawling over many acres, and Diavolo is aware of your limitations. With that in mind, he happily hires a little carriage to take you both around the area and you can get out of it for a closer look whenever the urge strikes you. This means you’re able to see so much more than you normally would and you get to make friends with the lovely horses that pull your carriage, offering them some of the safe vegetation as a reward for their hard work. Diavolo takes note of your favorite flowers and plants and when he gets back to the castle, he instructs Barbatos to create your own personal little garden you can visit whenever you like.

Barbatos

Barbatos likes to take you with him while he runs his errands. He has so little free time that, unfortunately, he can’t take you out on a date more often than not but he still wants to spend time together. He compromises by bringing you with him when he can. One of his favorite places to take you is on his forest forage trips. He regularly goes out to collect fresh ingredients for both his teas and his treats. He finds so many leaves, berries, and other vegetation during your trips that you find yourself learning so much. You’ve never even seen half of these ingredients before and Barbatos delights in teaching you all about them: where they came from, how they grow, how to identity them, what they’re used for. He gives you your own basket to carry as well (it’s very light, mind you, even when it’s full and you assume there has to be some kind of enchantment on it).

Like with everything else, Barbatos always seem to know when you need to rest without you even saying anything. He walks so slowly through the forest with you that you know he probably does these trips in half the time or less when he’s alone and he is quick to point out pretty views you may want to take in, urging you to take a seat on a nearby log or rock for a while and enjoy. Additionally, Barbatos always packs a little picnic for you both as well so you can make a day of it. He loves to set you up in the middle of a clearing where you can lay on the soft blanket and eat your snacks and rehydrate. Occasionally he’ll wander off to gather some more ingredients while you rest and when you’re all recovered, he walks you back to the palace where he has a car waiting to bring you back to the House of Lamentation.

Solomon

Solomon is like your own personal tour guide of the Devildom, if your tour guide took you to illegal places and was paid under the table that is. There’s nothing Solomon loves more than taking little “field trips” with you around the Devildom, often citing how it relates to something you’re studying in your classes at RAD or how it will help him with teaching you magic. He takes you to all sorts of places that you’re almost definitely not supposed to be in: old caverns, castle ruins from a long gone dynasty, decrepit crypts with old rulers held inside, etc. Every place he takes you has a story that he loves to tell you. As a man who has experienced most of history, Solomon finds great job in telling his first hand accounts of things to you (though sometimes you’re entirely sure how much is fact and how much is fiction).

This means a lot of travel and while Solomon, the immortal and impervious bastard, may be able to get around easily but you can’t. Solomon knows that though and he makes these excursions as accessible as possible. That means portals when you’re traveling great distances so you don’t have to walk too much or things as simple as summoning a bench for you to rest on when you’re tired. He also absolutely loves to use his magic to float you along; he never warns you either, one second you’re slowly trudging along and the next thing you know you’re hovering 3 feet off the ground, carried forward by an invisible wind. It’s amazing and the fun of it helps make up for any negative feelings you may associate with needing the extra help.

Simeon

Simeon has to admit that he hasn’t seen as much of the Devildom as he should have considering how long he’s been here. He’s been to the stores and festivals, and he’s been pretty content keeping to the RAD campus outside of that. When he hears that you want to learn more about the Devildom, especially the wildlife, he sees it as a perfect opportunity to take you to the zoo. You guys decide to take Luke as well, correctly assuming that he would be thrilled to ‘oh’ and ‘ah’ over all of the animals.

The zoo is quite large and, to make things easier for you, Simeon is happy to get you a scooter or wheelchair and push you around. Honestly, he loves the idea of these devices and Luke will absolutely sit on your lap or hang onto the back of handle bars so he can ride around with you. If you do walk, he’s willing to sit down at the exhibits whenever you need and sometimes will suggest it even before you can bring it up. (He’s talked to Luke privately beforehand about not running off and making you guys chase him so there’s worries there) He also brings you to every animal show, both because it’s amazing to see what these animals can be trained to do but also so that you get enough rest throughout the day. You guys read the signs and histories posted outside each exhibit and turns into quite the educational day. You three end up buying plushies of your favorite animals to take home as a souvenir.

#obey me #obey me asks #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #obey me brothers #obey me Datebables #Lucifer #mammon #asmo #Levi #satan #beel #belphie #diavolo #barbatos #simeon #Solomon

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