#i thought he was a lesbian!! i thought that he and elysium were lesbians

[aghostintheforest]

ever time i use Thorns i'm forced to remember that he is, in fact, a guy

[valeovalairs]

Guys, how long does it usually take to beat Hades. Like, I’m on escape attempt 48 and I JUST made it to Elysium. I think I made it into Asphodel around attempt 25.

[bluerosesonata]

I played and finished Slay the Princess last night while I was puppy sitting. I had such a great time. She’s my scary wife now.

Spoilers + more detailed thoughts below the cut, but without spoilers:

[points at devs] haha horror podcast fans

I’ve always loved Nicole Goodnight from her first appearances on Nosleep. she did so excellent as the Princess.

Very impressive scope, even with the very definitive ending I got, I came away from the game feeling like there were still paths I hadn’t seen.

Just as a general tone setter, I love the opening card/disclaimer that ends with “This Is A Love Story.”

GREAT visual style and art. I’ll get into this in my breakdown below, but with my amateur eye I love how they took a non-traditional approach to way the images/characters are displayed in a renpy game

INCREDIBLE music.

Hard to avoid Disco Elysium comparisons with the aspects of the Self mechanic, which I’m sure is either a received as a high compliment or is a source of annoyance for the devs, lol

Highly recommend it for OELVN fans, horror fans, and lesbians.

First and foremost, I’m genuinely very impressed at the amount of variety to the paths.

On my first playthrough, I got on a loop where I kept the princess locked up, and then she came upstairs and killed me. The next loop, The Paranoid showed up, and when we went into the basement, it was all spooky and distorted. In this one, we had some great banter with The Princess before I ultimately decided to slay her, and trapped me in the basement by warping reality and removing the stairs, forcing me to kill myself to escape that loop. The Cold showed up in chapter 3, and I think that was when I tried to leave the woods.

In subsequent loops, even when choosing all the choices I made to the best of my memory, I couldn’t recreate that first loop at all. It really speaks to the scope of the game in an impressive way.

The first vessel I managed to provide was The Tower. (It was the outcome of being mauled on your first encounter with her, then perceiving her as a dominating, inevitable force.) After discovering my new objective, the endings I saw were The Prisoner (It’s the ending where you just wait for the cell to rot away around you), The Razor (GOATED route, I will be calling her ‘Knife Wife,’), The Damsel, and ended with The Adversary (devil horns), before reaching Awakening.

These are the only routes I can talk about, but I’m certain there were at least 2 I missed/didn’t get to see. It’s an EXTREMELY impressive scope, and fully voiced, to boot, so my hat is off to the devs on that front.

(The next few paragraphs are about the voice acting, if you want my story thoughts, I made a small heading for that bc my VA thoughts got a bit out of hand lol)

Voice Acting

While I’m on the subject of the game being fully voiced: Nicole’s voice acting really shines here, and it’s absolutely essential to making this game what it was. I think a version of this game without it would be very Good, but not nearly as Haunting. The sheer variety of reads on certain lines based on how you first approach the princess is incredibly impressive, as well. (Again— scope!!!)

As far as the narrator VO goes, i can’t deny that Jonathan did a great job, and with his history of being the main narrator for The Magnus Archives, he was a good fit for the tone and audience of the game. I would even posit that, even if there were other people who were considered in the early phases of development, the cross-promotional potential of drawing in even a small section of an audience already primed for cosmic, reality-altering horror via TMA was a very smart business decision, and I applaud them for it. That being said, I think one unintended side effect of his casting may be that people familiar with his TMA character (a…semi-reliable narrator) might immediately come in primed with doubts about the Narrator. They seem to have anticipated this, though, and included skeptical and suspicious dialogue choices with him right off the bat in the first chapter, which is fun.

(A brief aside: If it seems like I am being very measured with my thoughts on the Narrator, it is not because I have anything negative to say about his performance. I am being measured simply because the narrative devices the game employs makes it impossible to not draw comparisons to Big Hitters like The Stanley Parable and Disco Elysium— both incredible games that I personally would be both delighted and terrified to be brought up when discussing a game I created or a role I was playing.

These games did not Create the idea of “a narrator you interact with and who is sometimes rude to you” or “multiple voices with distinct Traits butting in on your current predicament,” but both games are incredibly prolific in how implemented those devices and the vocal performances involved….so it is not a fair comparison.)

Story Thoughts

The subtitle for this section could also be “Faron ranks how hot they find all of the versions of The Princess.” jk.

I am not going to do summaries here I’m just going to assume most people reading this have played the game.

But let’s start again with the sentence at the beginning of the game: “This is a love story.”

Not long ago, there was a big discussion on tumblr about the statement that horror is “about love”, (it might have even been spurred on by TMA, lol) and that lead to a lot of justified (but not always kind) posts from my fellow horror fans being annoyed by that take. I’ll spare you a rehash of all of that. But it is exactly Because of that discourse (and my general gothic preferences) that I like the choice to open with this a whole lot. The phrase “This is a love story,” written in bold, at the end of a disclaimer saying ‘there are no wrong choices, just different paths,’ has an immense power to it. It is a mic drop way to open up a story, as a way to prime the audience to be open to the Princess as more than a monster, and creates the anticipation for a greater relationship to be uncovered between the protagonist and the princess.

It could also be that the phrase hit my brain in a weird way because of Fata Morgana. I don’t think The House in Fata Morgana had a similar line in the actual game— but my roommate who handed me Fata Morgana very specifically told me, “it is a horror game, and it is a tragedy, but at its core, It Is a Love Story.” And that’s always stuck with me. (I digress.)

A Brief Address to Loops and the Popularity of the Looping Narrative

I could sit here all day and talk to you guys about looping metanarrative structure and the different approaches to it, but you’ve probably all played a VN with that before. (If you haven’t, and this is your first time encountering something like this and it blew your mind…Go play Zero Escape: 999. Run, don’t walk.)

I believe very strongly that reviews should be about what a game Is, and how well it accomplished what it aims to be, not about what you wish the game was. But it is an even stronger opinion of mine that loop narratives, especially in visual novels, can sometimes get too bogged down in the details of “why am i in a time loop.”

I am extremely glad that this game (mostly) avoided this, bc it offers an opportunity to say something about the subgenre as a whole.

At the end of the day, looping narratives mainly exist as a metanarrative device in VNs to acknowledge and offer a reason why your character’s behavior (and/or your choices) change. It’s an easy way to create ludonarrative harmony, and to inject some extra drama with little extra effort.

But BECAUSE it’s easy, it can also feel Extremely Overused, and starts to become an expectation.

I won’t go on a soapbox about it, especially because I feel like this game handled it very well, and the looping, metanarrative aspect is suited to the themes and character subject matter of Beings Who Are Concepts, even if they Why doesn’t really satisfy. At the end of the day, this is a love story, and the why matters less than the feelings involved.

Specific Path Thoughts

All versions of the Princess are incredibly strong concepts, and the game is structured in a way that I very much would enjoy seeing how different people’s first loops influence their opinions on her. It’s got IMMENSE “streamability” in that regard.

Someone that encountered The Damsel version of the princess first would have an INCREDIBLY different experience than someone who encountered the Adversary first, which ties very neatly into the subject of the greater love story and can also generate some great post-play discussion.

I think, undoubtedly, the Aspects of the princess that made the biggest impressions on me were The Adversary (demon wife) and The Razor (Knife Wife). Part of this is due to the sheer length of their paths, as both of them take 3+ loops (correct me if I’m wrong) to reach the conclusion of their sections, whereas The Damsel, The Tower, and The Prisoner all only took 2. (See the next section for more on that). Thinking about it, every path was similar in the amount of sheer resources created for them (illustrations, animation), but these two create the illusion of having more than the others simply due to being the longest action sequences and loops in the game.

The Razor has an OUTSTANDING design, and the sequence to slay her would have been an incredible finale in its own right, as we get introduced to EVERY Aspect of ourselves as we die over and over again, even shoving the narrator out of the way so we can just jump to the cabin and fight her again, and the PC reasoning that “if there’s enough of Me, I might be able to overcome her”. For this reason, and because of the big knife skeleton body, I think that the Razor path is more Fun than the Adversary’s.

Flavor-wise, however, I feel like The Adversary is a much stronger character and narrative thread. A princess who doesn’t want to escape— she just wants a good fight. She wants you at your best, and she won’t have any less. That’s exactly the sort of character dynamic that really gets me going. I love single-minded women, and I love a main character who meets them on their level of crazy.

Both of these paths involve the Aspects of Self “The Hunted” and “The Stubborn,” and they are the aspects of the PC that by FAR have the most color to them (besides the lover, who is more of a buffoon.) I think they were my favorites.

That being said, I adored how exhausted the Narrator got during the Damsel path, and I thought there was a very quiet, profound power in the Prisoner version of the Princess. She had an austere, quiet pride to her, tinged with an undeniable sorrow.

I really do appreciate the variety of ways they provide for one to approach your dialogues with the Shifting Mound after every loop. They really create a lot of space for the player to decide how they feel about her. Even if it sort of bothered me that every time there was a choice to tell her you would slay her once it was all over, I appreciate the option being there. (And, again- the sheer amount of dialogue!! Sheesh!)

Lastly, the finale. It was incredible, going through all of the forms, reliving all of the choices you made. But this is the part that the amount of options started to detract from my experience.

Again- I love that they left a lot of space for people to decide how they feel. I like the amount of responses provided, and I get the impression they don’t change the final choice in any way, just the dialogue she says to get to it.

But it bothered me that there was an option to just…opt out of seeing every vessel, either by submitting to her or by killing her. I can’t see a world where anyone playing a finale like this would WANT to cut the big final movement short. It seems silly.

The payoff was worth it, though. It was a beautiful end and one that definitely will stick with me.

(And Obviously I decided to take her hand and remain endless with her! How could I not!)

Mechanical Musings

Note: I am a dabbler in Ren’Py, but I have been a dabbler for over a decade, and I went to college for game design. (You’re allowed to laugh) I’m not GOOD at programming, and I forget the class names for basically everything unless I’m looking at it.

All of this is all to say I am PURELY speculating on how certain parts of the game were accomplished.

UI/Display/Visuals

The choice to omit a typical text box was an objectively correct one for this game, in no small part to how they decided to do the visuals on this game. It kept the game looking clean and drew the eye to the stunning visuals. The right aligned prompt box similarly aided in that respect, and I think that being forced to scroll down to resist during certain tense sequences was a great touch. Makes me wonder if there’s a timed element on those responses.

The choice to eschew using typical talk sprites (outside of The Long Quiet scenes, the sequence with The Damsel, i thiiiiink the confrontation in the basement maze, and the finale) in favor of using scenes/displayed images really aided in the storybook vibes, and the animated loops they had on those images gave the pencil work an amazing kinetic energy for the scenes where the princess is just standing or sitting still. (For the uninitiated- It’s incredibly simple to program animation loops using static images in RPY, but I’m not clear if that the most memory-efficient way to do so; I’m going to assume they did this though)

The menu Ui is what gives it away as Renpy to me, but you know, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, lol.

I’m sort of surprised there wasn’t anything like a scene viewer or gallery that unlocked at the end, but I guess that might sort of be immersion breaking.

Gameplay

Just from my hobbyist eye, I can tell there’s a looooott of dialogue flags in this one, where they track previous things you’ve said in the scene. There is absolutely a variable for “Princess hostility,” just based on the fact there’s several like reads of her answering the questions you can ask in chapter one, but since I only did a single run where I didn’t pick up the knife in chapter 1, I can’t be sure if it’s points based or binary “has knife = true.”

My guessssss about how the Aspects are inherited is that it might be a point based system combined with a flag indicating how you died; this would explain how I inherited “the paranoid” in ch2 my first run, but never after that.

I can say with almost complete certainty from the way it completely locked me out of deciding to leave the princess locked up after my choice to leave the woods that there is a true/false variable tracker for each path that stores if you’ve reached the Long Quiet or not, bc no matter what I did I could NOT do that again. Either that or there’s a flag where the narrator will lock you downstairs after seeing that screen once.

There’s also probably some variables tied to your appearance changing in the mirror, but i would need to double check achievements to be sure that text isn’t just set to appear after X vessels being provided.

There’s also a distinct possibility there are different “pools” for the princess’ aspects to be pulled from after each “level” of ascension; this would set it up so that it’s impossible for you to end with an event that is only 1 loop long, and it would be easier to assure story pacing that way.

(Ex: “If Vessels < 2, use Event_Pool_A, Else use Event_Pool_B”, where pool A contains vessels that use less than 2 loops to complete)

All in all, if I ever got the chance to crack the hood open on this, I would. I highly recommend it.

[chen-chen-chen-again-chen]

Hi, hello, hola, it's me! This is not a WIP Wednesday post (well, the WIP is always me), but it's something.

First off, thank you thank you thank you to all the beautiful people who messaged me, or commented, or tagged me in things, or even just thought kind warm thoughts at me while I've been away and not writing. Brain not working good enough to sort through the things and tag properly but you know the drill - I love you all.

Here are things I did while I wasn't writing AKA while I have Big Sad Brain:

I visited London, and had a great time - eating delicious food, flat-sitting, visiting old haunts, picking up new ones, spending time with friends, and watching too much Shakespeare. The salted beef bagels in Brick Lane are still unparalleled, there were daffodils everywhere, and I brought home too much tea but not enough biscuits.

I buzzed my hair short again, and as EarlobeGreyTea said, "it really moved your energy from bisexual to lesbian," and then followed up with, "I'm glad that I, a man, could explain your sexuality to you"

I read a lot. I read The Locked Tomb series (I'm obsessed) and fell down a danmei pit (I have consumed SVSSS and MDZS but not yet TGCF) and I have spicy hot takes on why I did not enjoy The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo or The Starless Sea. I re-read all of Ann Leckie's books. I read The Future is Disabled in a Socialist bookshop in London, and I cried so fucking hard that the gentleman in the shop asked me if I was okay. I read The Song of Achilles and Circe and wandered down the labyrinth of getting really, really into Greek myth.

Speaking of: I bought an ROG Ally (horrible name, hate it, but the console itself is fine, it's like a more versatile Steam Deck) and I played Hades. So much Hades. So. Much. Hades. And every time I met Patroclus in Elysium, I bawled, "He's so SAD! He's such a SAD MAN! I need to make him UN-SAD!"

I finally finished the godforsaken Totoro cross-stitch pictured above. As soon as I framed it, I held it up to my spouse and said, "Could a depressed person make THIS?" and he said, "Yes" and then "Good job," because he's a lamb.

When I had energy, I cooked. I learned how to make carrot ginger dressing and shogayaki, and how to velvet pork. I made some of my standbys, like applesauce pancakes and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, and felt very Smug and Very Adult for putting frozen cookie dough into my freezer so Future Me could have cookies. I introduced my family to Uncle Roger and I've never heard my mother (1) get so angry and (2) laugh so hard. When I couldn't cook, I ate food that someone else made, and it was enough to celebrate: I ate a meal! I ate food! I fed a me! Hooray!

I spent time with my beautiful friends. I spent time with my beautiful family. They are so good and they have been with me through so many tough things and depressive episodes, through bullshit and drama and tears, like that time I screaming-yelled at someone over the phone (they deserved it) during an engagement party at the cabin and then I had to walk out and pretend to be Normal and got drunk on a lot of Old Fashioneds.

I grew things. Flowers and vegetables and herbs and I accidentally made a great home for some very invasive weeds. The squirrels left only one sunflower alone (they ate the rest), but even now in mid-October, there are still bright coral-red flares of peppery nasturtium, and feathery pale pink zinnias from my caretaker at work (who is an angel), and gigantic, blue-tipped borage. My best friend moved in down the street from me, so she's only a five-minute walk away, and now I can pick flowers and stick them in a vase and walk them over to her, and I love it. I grew too many tomatoes (they got..... scary. My favourite were the heirloom tomatoes, as big as my fist, that remind me of my Lolo) and forgot about the cucumbers (they got lewd) and let myself get coaxed into growing three different kinds of mint: chocolate, grapefruit, and berries & cream (because I'm a little lad who loves berries and cream).

I bullied my spouse into watching Practical Magic with me the other evening and every time That Fucking Cop came on screen, he said, "That Fucking Cop! This movie would be good but there's too much of That Fucking Cop in it" and I felt so v i n d i c a t e d

I tried to write. I tried to write. I tried to write. I tried to write, and then let go of trying to write and just let myself do all the other things that make up living, try to amend the soil so that something good can grow there again. I tried to talk myself out of unhappiness but it's funny how that doesn't work, how only hard-fought kindness has helped me trudge out of the swamp, again and again and again.

I had one of those moments recently that felt like it could have been in one of my stories. At Thanksgiving dinner, I was sitting next to my little half-sister-in-law (a mouthful, I know). She is seven and she lost her dad two years ago and she said, "I wish my dad was here." And I said, "I know, honey. I think we all do." And she said, "I miss his piano playing," because her dad used to play piano the other way someone else might doodle on a napkin - absentmindedly, brilliantly, while wearing a faded green apron and with a dishtowel thrown over his shoulder, in between checking if the roast was up to temp and pouring someone a glass of wine. Always red wine, from the Piedmont region, which is where my spouse's Nonna is from. I asked my little half-sister-in-law, "Do you think you'll learn how to play piano?" and she said, "I don't know," and I said, "It's okay not to know." And then she asked, "Do you have a Gothita?" and we went back to talking about Pokemon, which we had been talking about for a conservative 90% of the dinner.

I wrote this. I wrote this and it felt good to feel my fingers moving, it felt good to have words spilling from me, it felt good to have faith in words again, that the words could be something good, could do something good, that the worlds could just be and it could be good, and that I could just be, and that could be good. Just being could be good. Even if I never wrote another word ever again, just being would be good. As I said to one of my friends many years ago during some deep dark down shitty times, "It's hard work, being human. Thank you for doing the work."

Take care. I love you all. ❤️❤️❤️

[missmonkeymode]

So on Disco Elysium.

I think I see some of your points, like a lot of people really connected to the specific game play and narrative combo. I guess that's probably where it's just like, full divergence from the people getting angry at the tweet for me. Like I just... I don't know. I played through a bit of it, and I just really didn't connect to the character of Harry or even really Kim at all. I guess knowing it's intentionally a deconstruction is neat.

I liked the level up system (a lot), the chance and dialogue differences based on your perks felt like someone took FO1/2/NV speech/skill dialogue options and made that into an entire game based on like, every pop culture cop archetype and I'm here for it. I'll admit that is in part connected to the character of Harry the cop and his position in the world, but as a slate for other archetypal characters (like a witch) it really wouldn't be that hard to, at least, on the surface, I feel, make apply the mechanics in other interesting ways in other games with different narratives. (Also Twin Peaks quirks transfer over to a witch game).

The world (the bits I explored, I didn't get very far-- it was just ultimately kind of dull, for me) did feel lived in, and I liked the quirky characters you could meet. My thing is, I didn't really care about the story or the characters-- so for me, a system of game mechanics like this actually makes a lot of sense to use on different types of games, because I found that mechanical system to be cool and a really interesting way to resolve conflict and create game play tension and all that fun stuff.

Harry was alright, I guess. Not really, to me, but people like him so I try not to be too mean. I just don't really like cops at all. I don't need to play through a however many hour game to know that they're incompetent pigs-- I can just go outside. Or even online and type "cop shot black child" and see what new result comes up this week. My mom can't close her fist because a pig shattered her hand during a "non-violent drug offense" arrest. Does Harry ever actually do any police brutality? I never got that far-- is it like...? A different ending type thing? Where use of certain tactics over others produces different results for the case? That's neat if my random guess is anywhere near right-- as it was it just felt like a cop simulator but quirky. Like they get nothing done like regular cops but this time he's likably incompetent.

I also thought Kim was poorly done, honestly. I mean-- not really my place to say, but it feels like the only Asian representation is either tropey Indian or pale East Asian (and sometimes those roles aren't tropey)-- and Kim is very tropey. Like he's the classic stoic sidekick who's more competent than the lead. I know he's got a lot of depth, but... I don't know. It didn't leave a great taste in my mouth. Ultimately he's a non-white sidekick to do all the work the boisterous white lead can't and won't in silence. Also, as far as I got there were no other POC in the game. Maybe there are some tokens... but honestly, it makes sense-- DE takes place in like, a fictional Slav country, right? Not a lot of brown people. I still feel like it would have been more of a deconstruction of the genre if Harry was a Black high femme lesbian who is only a cop because she wants to kill with impunity.

Sidebar-- the OP of the twwet mentioned Harry was an old white guy. It feels weird everyone's calling her hypocritical when she did suggest someone young and very much not a guy. It doesn't feel hypocritical to me to leave her race as white since, like fictional slavland being mostly white, so are the Alps to my knowledge. I mean I'd like her more if she was Latina too, but I also would just connect more to a cute little baby witch than a drunk cop.

Anyhoo like... I don't know. Like our world is a literal dystopia where we spend so much time reliant on technology made with stolen resources and stolen labor, that we ourselves buy wit our own stolen labor, and he cops exist to protect the treasure hoards of the thieves.. That isn't to say we can't have dystopic fiction or games-- that's one of my favorite genres-- but I just wasn't able to connect to DE on any levels where I found the lead characters, many aspects of the world, or the story, engaging, interesting, or important. I liked the mechanics and the dialogue. I think if we had this kind of focus on a game about a little witch girl and her cat that'd be really cute and relaxing.

I am a witch though, so I'm biased.

Also, I didn't find your response rude or anything. I'm just happy to talk about things.

I mean this in a way that does not mean to offend you in any way, but I just think the game isn't really for you. If you don't really like the main character and don't really jive with the gameplay, it's fine to simply go "yeah I don't like this"! I don't want to insinuate that you're dumb or lesser or whatever for not liking the game, but sometimes you just don't like something yknow?

On the surface, I do agree that you can take the concept of "24 characters are constantly feeding you information a la ttrpg rolls and checks" and apply them to a different game, but I feel as though the gameplay and the story are too married to each other where it can't really shine without the other. As for Harry and police brutality, he can and cant if that makes sense? You are given the chance to shoot cunoesse (although its a immediate game over if you do) and generally just be shitty and abuse his position as a cop, but you're also given the chance to not to that, so uhhh it depends on how you play the game. Player decision and such. On your poc point, I can see where you get the perception of him being "stoic and competent" especially since (from the sound of it) you stopped playing early on, but as you play the game you discover that Harry is a highly competent cop (despite like being a mess of a person). I don't want to speak too much about the poc in the game, mostly bc I'm white passing and I'd feel like I'd be speaking over your points about the limited amount of poc in the game and how they're handled so uh yeah. I do disagree with the idea that Harry being a femme black lesbian would work towards the deconstruction though, but that's mostly because the way that I see it Harry gets away with a lot of shit (like routinely showing up to work drunk and high, losing his gun and id simultaneously, letting a corspe just kinda chill outside as he goes on a 3 day bender) because of his position as a white man in a hypermasculine field, and changing him from a white man to a black woman would weaken the critiques that its making. And the game does comment about those who join the police force to live out their fantasy of holding a lot of power (but the characters profession isnt really cop, just cop adjacent, but I feel like that's worth mentioning at least). For me at least, I see op going "i don't want to play as a white man, but a white woman" is hypocritical because in her talking point against the game, she used "white" as a negative to harry, but in the same breath turned around and suggested a white woman instead. Does that make sense? It's like someone going "I don't like this shirt because it's a red shirt and I don't like the color red, I'd much rather wear a red dress", the clothes are still red, the only thing that changed is the article of clothing.

I don't want you to come away from this post and feel as though I'm trying to bash on games like "a witch trying to find a lost cat". That's a wonderful game concept, that is not what most people are upset about (as far as I can tell). People are upset because the tweeter is taking a complex, gritty game that talks heavily about politics and is trying to remove the complexity from it and flatten it out into a wholesome game (whether knowingly or unknowingly). You can't really have a game like disco elysium and take out the parts that make disco elysium disco elysium, and that's generally what people are talking about. Also I'm you didn't find my response rude, I like chatting about things and explaining things.

[astra-galaxie]

Victoria Holt

Biographical information

Full Name: Victoria Holt

Alias(es): Nerium Nightshade

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Lesbian

Status: Deceased

Age: 60 (season 1)

Birth: 1953

Race: Human

Cause of Death: Electrocution

Nationality: Dutch

Origin: Holland, Netherlands

Residence:

India (formerly)

Holland, Netherlands (formerly)

Profession(s): Scientist

Affiliation(s):

Switch Laboratories

SOMBRA

Profile

Height: 5'4" Age: 60 (season 1) Weight: 137lbs Eyes: blue Blood: A+

Hailing from the Netherlands, Victoria Holt was the owner of Switch Laboratories. She had strawberry-blonde hair, pale skin, and blue eyes. She wore a simple red dress, an orange lab coat, and a DNA pattern scarf.

Synopsis

Victoria was the victim of A Shock to the Team.

She used to own Switch Laboratories, a lab that, on the surface, was working to cure diseases. But behind the scenes, they were creating custom poisons to kill people. Victoria and Gustave were the only ones aware of SL's true intentions; the rest of the employees thought they were doing good work.

But unknown to Gustave, Victoria worked for SOMBRA, who also funded her operations. SOMBRA was using Victoria's poisons to "weed out the weak" but killing their enemies. Because Victoria's poisons were so unique, it would appear like people died of natural causes, such as a heart attack or stroke. She also sold her poisons privately on the black market, and no one traced these murders back to Victoria.

But Nathan eventually discovered Victoria's devious plans. He learned the truth while autopsying one of the volunteer test subjects. After realizing that Project Elysium was killing people on purpose instead of saving them, he contacted his grandfather, the Director of U.N.I.T at the time. With the agency's help, they destroyed the lab and research, arresting many of the employees.

But Victoria fled with SOMBRA's help and vowed revenge on Nathan for his betrayal. She couldn't believe after everything she did for him; he would stab her in the back. She gave him his sight, helped with his education, gave him a job at her lab, and that was how he repaid her?!

She stayed a free woman for many years as she evaded U.N.I.T. Victoria tried to recreate her work, but without the data, she couldn't do it. And then she realized that Nathan would be the key to helping her. He helped U.N.I.T. confiscate her work and was sure he would have remembered the formulas and know how to recreate them.

So, Victoria contacted Gustave, who was now out of prison, and the two tracked Nathan down to Grimsborough. They also found other old employees of SL, but no one wanted anything to do with them. But the two were persistent and tried to restart their work in a secret lab hidden underneath an abandoned iPear store Gustave owned.

Victoria even went as far as to threaten Nathan's son Avi. The coroner agreed to go with her to the lab so that she wouldn't hurt the boy, but once there, he attacked Victoria, knocking her out. He tried to destroy the work inside but found no files, so he fled before she woke up.

But Nathan knocking Victoria out would make it easier for Gustave to murder her. Gustave was angry when he saw that Victoria had failed to get Nathan back. He knew he could get the coroner to cooperate with the right incentives, and if she were going to be useless, he wouldn't risk her ruining his chances at a better life.

Gustave strapped Victoria to a chair and hooked up jumper cables to it and the shop's electric panel. With a flick of a switch, he turned on the shop's sign and electrocuted Victoria in the process. He left her burnt corpse inside and began formulating a plan to escape Grimsborough, taking Nathan with him.

Story Information

First appeared: A Shock to the Team

Trivia

The name of the case she was a victim in, A Shock to the Team, is a reference to the pilot episode (A Shock to the System) from the cartoon Static Shock

The SOMBRA connection was a change I made after I edited my first story, The Case of The Criminal, in 2021

She sold her custom poisons on the black market under the disguise of Nerium Nightshade

She wore a mask when making sales; the most common ones looked like skulls

Disclaimer: Character design was created using Rinmarugames Mega Anime Avatar Creator! I have only made minor edits to the design! Background courtesy of CriminalArtist5

Links to my stories:

The Case of the Criminal (Ao3/Wattpad) Killer Bay (Ao3/Wattpad) Where in the World are the Killers? (Ao3/Wattpad)

[merulanoir]

I posted 7,760 times in 2022

That's 1,916 more posts than 2021!

317 posts created (4%)

7,443 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@flowers-all-around-me

@sorrelchestnut

@vaspider

@geardrops

@cat-boy-tits

I tagged 2,862 of my posts in 2022

#dishonored - 297 posts

#blackbirb babbles - 201 posts

#our flag means death - 139 posts

#dnd - 117 posts

#judaism - 82 posts

#dragon age - 70 posts

#horizon forbidden west - 57 posts

#disco elysium - 56 posts

#death stranding - 47 posts

#the witcher - 46 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#id feel so much more welcome at a pride thats a riot and welcomes kinky people than at whatever sanitized toothless crap some folks promote

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Fucking hate the feeling when you're bored and your brain hurts because it craves engagement but at the same time nothing feels appealing, no hobby or videogame or activity feels like worth the effort, so you just sit on the couch like

>:(

219 notes - Posted May 7, 2022

#4

Some days the executive really dysfunctions huh.

351 notes - Posted March 24, 2022

#3

I continue being amazed just how much of an effect starting hrt had on my sexuality. I used to think I was attracted to guys and masc-presenting people, but sike! My crushes on guys were 90% my debilitating dysphoria going gotta be one of my favorite genders, that.

I've been on T for 1.5 years, and in that time I've done something of a 180; I get weak in the knees for femmes and feminine people. I have zero wish to be feminine myself, but....girls pretty......

This has been (and keeps being) an interesting journey. I very much identify as "just some guy" but I can't deny feeling a massive kinship with butches and he/him lesbians. I present fairly binary in my irl life just for safety reasons, but everything about how I experience attraction, gender, and sexuality is profoundly queer.

This also goes to show how sometimes you won't know everything about yourself before the blaring alarm of dysphoria is finally addressed and silenced. I just want to give a shout-out to everyone who thought they were flavor A, only to later change their mind. Having the headspace to figure this stuff out is priceless. Obviously most people probably know their sexuality before transition, but I just want to reiterate that it's okay if you don't. Seems like I didn't.

Before life settled down, these kinds of odd and even contradictory vibes would have made me anxious. I would have felt like I have to pick one and own it a 100%. Now I'm just...kind of content to sit with these ideas. Maybe one will grow bigger than the others. Maybe not. All this comes before I even touch the fact that I'm some flavor of aroace. :D

I've become more private in recent years but maybe sharing this insight will help someone. I'm 31, which isn't that old, but I know I would have needed examples of older (not old, lmao) folks transitioning. Especially with the recent resurgence of TERF bullshit and hate against trans guys and transmasc people, I feel it's important to show that the people behind online handles are both more complicated than you'd think AND that they're still. Just some guy.

Peace, and happy pride month. 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

523 notes - Posted June 14, 2022

#2

I fucking love it here, I'm never leaving Tumblr.

525 notes - Posted November 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

My partner was mailing me a care package and she asked if I'd like "a Kim Kitsuragi print."

Obviously I said yes, thinking she meant, like, a printed picture.

WRONG

See the full post

6,889 notes - Posted October 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[leguin]

I posted 4,345 times in 2022

1,643 posts created (38%)

2,702 posts reblogged (62%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@leguin

@slaygentford

@canticleoftheturning

@zombiesun

@betelgeusing

I tagged 3,779 of my posts in 2022

Only 13% of my posts had no tags

#q - 861 posts

#art - 299 posts

#iwtv - 256 posts

#music - 191 posts

#the magicians - 173 posts

#words - 75 posts

#ffff - 69 posts

#buffy 2k22 - 51 posts

#disco elysium - 45 posts

#asks - 41 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#i do like that the daughter is apparently a failed lesbian comedienne...finally some representation to balance out all those successful ones

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

We now have all the exposure of life pre-Roe but none of the paternalistic protections: Women are now seen as fully autonomous moral agents, which means that they will be legally on the hook for endangering the babies they carry, but they will also be punishable as autonomous adults. Women thus remain children for purposes of pregnancy and giving birth, but have become adults for purposes of criminal liability.

It’s easy to lull yourself into the false belief that a reversion to life pre-Roe would simply mean that the reproductive freedom movement needs to redouble efforts to fund and transport persons needing abortions to more hospitable states. That would be awful, we think, but maybe not that catastrophically bad. But as Goldberg warned in 2019, “the past can prove inadequate to understanding the depredations of the present.” We are not in fact moving “backward” to life before Roe. We are more likely moving sideways into a fundamentalist religious regime in which life pre-Roe will come to look like a vastly less terrifying option than a world in which women are subject to revanchist religious claims—claims with no support whatsoever in the Constitution—about the lives they may carry, the unknown crimes they may commit, and the choices they are no longer permitted to make.

1,292 notes - Posted June 24, 2022

#4

also. and yes i did just rewatch the finale. when louis admits (in his own head) what actually happened over lestat’s body, and it becomes clear that actually he’s just inventing things wholecloth. he’s just putting words in claudia’s mouth, which means she could’ve said anything. lestat could’ve done anything. louis could’ve done anything, and we barely know what he did do because he’s a lying liar who lies! maybe there were only 10 true seconds in the whole interview! maybe not even that! it’s insane and the flip happens in about .2 seconds, which is even more insane. just like that.

1,515 notes - Posted November 9, 2022

#3

There are few things on film as vulnerable as Lee Pace drinking and weeping as he confesses his guilt, his hurt, and his grief to tiny, crying Catinca Untaru, who believed during filming, that Pace, like his character, could not walk. It’s not important to the climax of the film, but it underscores the relationship they have on film: naive, plain, exploratory. Singh asked Untaru to help shape the stories, and the fantastical sequences sometimes have a child’s endearing disregard for logic. But the end, when Roy comes undone, realizing what he’s implicated this little girl in, and realizing that he feels worse about that than he thought he could feel—this is the story of someone who understands guilt and pain and the bad choices we make while in their thrall, and the way we need to be forgiven, or accepted. The way we need enough space and enough love to let us fuck up and keep going. All of this, and I’ve said so little about Singh’s imagery: blood-red, sky-blue, saturated and full of butterflies and growling soldiers and places that seem solid enough in the real world until you line them up one after another, at which point they become a dream, a single land of everything beautiful. Everything still hurts in that beautiful land; everyone is betrayed, left alone, haunted, shouting his (alas, all his) pain into the sky. Everyone dies because Roy wants to die; Roy lives because Alexandria insists that his story is not the only story.

Ten Years Later, There’s Still Nothing Like Tarsem Singh’s The Fall by Molly Templeton

2,177 notes - Posted September 4, 2022

#2

The United States reported more deaths from COVID-19 last Friday than deaths from Hurricane Katrina, more on any two recent weekdays than deaths during the 9/11 terrorist attacks, more last month than deaths from flu in a bad season, and more in two years than deaths from HIV during the four decades of the AIDS epidemic. At least 953,000 Americans have died from COVID, and the true toll is likely even higher because many deaths went uncounted. COVID is now the third leading cause of death in the U.S., after only heart disease and cancer, which are both catchall terms for many distinct diseases. The sheer scale of the tragedy strains the moral imagination. On May 24, 2020, as the United States passed 100,000 recorded deaths, The New York Times filled its front page with the names of the dead, describing their loss as “incalculable.” Now the nation hurtles toward a milestone of 1 million. What is 10 times incalculable?

2,612 notes - Posted March 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

can't stop thinking abt this tweet

5,301 notes - Posted June 16, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[chronotopes]

2022 is nearly over. time for 2021 personal writing wrapped

(2020) (2019)

salvaging this post for drafts because i don’t wanna miss a year and i have important professional reasons to be ruminating on theme’s and such in my writing

poetry: 

“dancing balls of yellow light”, february. emotional breakdown poetry that i had literally no memory of writing until i decided to scour my notes app. #girl

“The sonnet holds a self-destructive place...”, march-ish. I was in the last gasps of a three-year Really Stupid About Something Phase, and wrote a super groundbreaking and original meditation on petrarchism after discussing him in class. I’ve written better things, and also worse things.

“London”, August. In the summer of 2019, I made a call that every time I or someone I cared about was on an airplane I’d write a poem titled after my/their destination. Plane poetry is for hacks but only if they publish it.

“Philadelphia”, December. See above.

Four completed pieces in total.

fanfiction

CHOICELESS HOPE, January-March. A fucking ILLUSTRATED FANADVENTURE about postacanon terezi pyrope, predictably unfinished. Was anxious about starting this one because I was afraid of not finishing it. Then I didn’t finish it, and nobody died.

“the truth must dazzle gradually (or every man be blind),” May. Kanaya & Terezi relationship study. Underrated.

“When the open road is closing in,” (published in the dirkjake zine). Flash fiction hastily brainstormed on a trip to the outer banks; postcanon jake and brain ghost dirk have a talk about the modernist crisis of representation, because, like, of course they do.

“In other words, please be true,” December. - Sequel to a dirkjake space au written for dirkjake week 2022. 

Three completed pieces in total.

AL2RNIA, which is kind of fanfiction and kind of origfic, i guess

AIVIDE THE PREQUEL, the whole damn year. The monster. All-drafted, half-published, not-to-be-completed-in-the-foreseeable-future. Anyway, this is a novel about a girl who hates college and sucks at lesbian dating.

the aivide epilogues, sequel to aivide the prequel. very, very unfinished. a novel about a girl who was looking for a job. and then she found a job. and heaven knows she’s miserable now.

Heartbreaking! The Two Worst Women You’ve Ever Met Have A First Encounter - fun little vignette that was meant to be the intro to the aivide epilogues, in which aivide’s evil mom and vinbre’s even eviler mom meet for the first time

A bunch of character-buildy exercises from a guy with a ~Hyper Fixation?!~, including aivide’s disco elysium skills and her thoughts on the cast

Two complete pieces in total.

ACTUAL ORIGFIC (FOR MY SINS, I TOOK A FICTION CLASS)

“cass & laura, nashville pride,” february. psychological realism assignment that started out being called “one semi-final hour in nashville, tennessee.” a secret about me is that i am not good about writing psychological realist literary fiction, meaning that this is just a creative nonfiction piece with enough names, details, and places changed to make that plausibly deniable.

“Two Stories.”, February. Fairy-tale assignment for the same class. Frankly, the most competent piece of fiction I have written as an adult without cribbing from either a fictional property or my real life. Plays around with fairy tales and why we tell them. Confused my fellow participants in a very shitty three-person Zoom workshop.

“HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS AND INFLUENCE PEOPLE: Or, a Smart Girl’s Guide To Persistent Boys.”, March. Lol. Another one that i always forget is not a nonfiction essay because i wrote it as what is basically a nonfiction essay. My professor, god bless him, astutely pointed out that it was, in fact, gender horror.

“The Saviors of the Galaxy! (And all that happened after.)”, April. Science fiction assignment. Introduction to what, scope-wise, is much more of a science fiction novella than a story. Pretty good; my professor was impressed, at least. What he didn’t know: the protagonists were based on June and Rose Homestuck.

Three complete pieces in total.

NONFICTION (2021 was my nonfiction flop era. huge L.)

“In another world, you die at eighty,” May. Lyric essay written the day of my friend’s funeral. (The world wasn’t this one!)

“Where Light Doesn’t Die,” April. Hypertext memoir about my trip to St. Petersburg; a more grown-up version of “Four Russias,” which I wrote in 2020.

“What Ceremony Else?”, November. Lyric essay written like six months after my friend’s funeral. About ghost tours and such.

Three complete pieces in total.

FINAL ROUNDUP CALLS

Works i was most excited about writing: AIVIDE THE PREQUEL and all of the other al2rnia writing

Work i am most impressed with in hindsight: “Where Light Doesn’t Die,” honestly the fairy tale and science fiction assignments, “In another world, you die at eighty.”

Work that could feasibly help me on an mfa application: “What Ceremony Else” if i changed just about everything about it (lol)

[dinosaurtsukki]

across the sea | a bokuaka fanfic (act. I)

inspired by the movie ‘portrait of a lady on fire’ by celine sciamma which is sad and lesbian

pairing: bokuto koutarou x akaashi keiji

word count: 21.8k words

contains: historical setting (actually the setting is vague bec if i tried to describe it more it would take 5 extra pages), heavy angst, slight fluff, greek mythology references, implied smut

summary: when Bokuto accepted a portrait commission for the young, engaged Akaashi Keiji, he never expected him to be so beautiful. he knows it's a mistake to be attached, a mistake for them to fall in love in a time when they know it's impossible for them to be together.

a/n: i’m a sad gay who loves sad lesbian movies and portait of a lady on fire is peak film. a lot of the things here are based on the film so i suggest you check out this beautiful movie, but i added a few tweaks here and there to make it my own. 

chapters: act. I, act. II., act. III

“You’re not the first painter to come here,” the ferryman said. Actually, it wasn’t the first time Bokuto had heard that. And now, he was sitting in the middle of tiny, fishing boat, clutching his tattered suitcase and the thin, wooden box where he kept his canvases for dear life. Mostly due to the fact that if his suitcase or canvases found their way overboard, Bokuto would have no choice but to jump after them.

“Is he a terror?” Bokuto asked, deciding to make conversation with the ferryman anyway.

“A terror? No, none of the painters who came back looked scared. Maybe frustrated or lost is the right word,” the ferryman said. “He never leaves the manor but they say that he’s more beautiful than his suitor.”

“I’ve heard that too,” Bokuto muttered as he gazed over the horizon to the shore where the boat was headed. He wasn’t particularly fond of the job he had to take: a portrait commission. Bokuto would much rather work on the commission from the church in his hometown with his master, painting bodies and landscapes were his specialization. On the other hand, Bokuto was not as confident with drawing the human face, specifically, capturing emotion in the eyes. Which were very, very important for a painter hoping to make his own way into the world. And because of that, his master sent him off to the Elysium Estate, a secluded piece of land nestled along the coast of a provincial town owned by the Akaashi family, to paint Akaashi Keiji’s portrait to send to his suitor.

An hour later, the boat had reached the harbor and Bokuto promptly got off, grateful for steady, unshifting land, thanked the ferryman and paid the fee. Then, clutching his suitcase and canvases, he made his way up a rocky trail to where the estate was. Up close, the large house looked dark and gloomy, as if nobody lived there, at all, but it still looked quite grand with its Greek-inspired architecture and marble columns framing the entrance. Standing outside, as if expecting him, was a young man with short, black hair, dressed in a butler’s uniform.

“You must be the painter, Bokuto Koutarou,” he spoke, bowing formally when Bokuto walked up. “I’m Kageyama Tobio, the estate butler. If there is anything you need during your stay here, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thanks!” Bokuto grinned. “Um, no need to be so formal though. I’m just an apprentice painter.”

“The madam ordered me to treat you as such,” Kageyama said, holding out his hand to take Bokuto’s belongings. Bokuto contemplated it for a while and handed him his suitcase, keeping his canvases closely to himself. Kageyama opened the door to the estate and they walked into a foyer that was dimly lit by a few candles.

“It doesn’t seem like a lot of people stay here, huh?” Bokuto said as he looked around.

“Only the madam and her son are currently living here,” Kageyama explained, taking an oil lamp from the table and walking down a hallway near the grand staircase. “You will be staying in this room for the meantime,” he added, opening the door to a room that was much larger than Bokuto’s master’s studio. Inside was a large, four-poster bed, windows that almost covered the entire far wall, a fireplace, and an easel already set up. When Bokuto glanced at the wall nearest him, he could see a door that probably led into his own bathroom.

“Wow, this is… a nice room,” Bokuto said, unable to find the words to say.

“The madam and young master Keiji have retired for the evening but he has agreed to meet you for breakfast in the dining hall,” Kageyama said, leaving the suitcase on top of the chest at the foot of Bokuto’s bed. “Would you like me to bring up some supper?”

“Yes please,” Bokuto smiled politely and Kageyama left him in the dark, grand room. Bokuto took the time to start a fire to light up the room. Then, he unloaded his canvases. The wooden box that was custom-made for it was nailed shut and Bokuto pried it open with a small tool stashed in his suitcase. To his relief, the canvases were both as pristine and white as when he first packed them. Bokuto lovingly ran his finger across the surface, already eager to break out his paints and start the commission. Just for the sake of being able to paint again.

After a warm meal of bread and soup, Bokuto lay on the soft bed of his room and fell asleep.

The next morning, he was woken up by Kageyama knocking on the door. Remembering that he would be meeting Akaashi for the first time, Bokuto quickly washed his face and dressed into his best pair of trousers and a clean shirt before hurrying to the dining room. The room was half the size of the manor’s living room, but better lit with tall windows that reached the ceiling. The long table was set for two and already sitting there, was Akaashi Keiji.

The rumors about his beauty were true: with his tanned skin, hair the color of chocolate that fell in short waves around his face, his graceful facial features, and eyes the color of deep emerald that followed Bokuto as he walked to his seat. Under the table, he felt his hands itch for a piece of charcoal and paper.

“U-um, Bokuto Koutarou,” he stammered, remembering that he had to introduce himself. “Pleased to meet you… um, sir.”

“There’s no need for that,” Akaashi waved his hand. His voice was soft but he spoke and enunciated every syllable. “So, my mother sent you to become a companion before I’m carted off to Italy to get married. Hopefully, I get to enjoy some kind of freedom before that happens.” He paused and fixed his gaze on Bokuto. “What do you think about all this?”

“Well, your mother seems concerned about you and your health—”

“You don’t have to talk as if she’s here,” Akaashi interrupted him. “She’s the one who’s paying you, not me. Tell me what you really think.” Bokuto blinked at the interruption and one look at Akaashi told him that he would detect any lie. So, Bokuto decided to tell the truth, or as much as he could without spilling the fact that he was painting his portrait in secret.

“When I entered the workforce to get a job, I never thought I’d have to be hired to be a personal companion,” Bokuto chuckled. “But it beats working in a factory. About your situation however, I think it’s a bit sad.”

“Sad? Do you pity me?” Akaashi’s expression was neutral.

“In a way, I do. It must be lonely having to stay here. Maybe your mother hired me so you’d have someone to talk to. In a way, I guess I am perfect for job,” Bokuto grinned. “People say I’m talkative enough to hold a conversation for two.” Akaashi looked down at his plate, as if thinking over what Bokuto said, and then looked out the window.

“I want to go down to the beach today,” he said, Bokuto silently let out a sigh of relief. He had passed whatever test Akaashi had set up. “Accompany me after breakfast.”

“Yes sir,” Bokuto nodded. In front of him, he saw the corner of Akaashi’s lip turn up.

“I’m younger than you. You may call me Akaashi.”

An hour later, Bokuto made his way down the beach with Akaashi behind him, wearing a dark green scarf around his chin and a jacket over his shirt. Bokuto couldn’t help but notice how Akaashi looked at the beach as if it was the first time he was there, and perhaps it was his first time at the beach. Judging by how thin his frame was and his breathing that was almost labored while he walked down the beach, Bokuto could easily tell how sickly he was. Bokuto considered sitting on the sand with Akaashi, but another part of him wanted Akaashi to experience much more. As soon as they reached the beach, Bokuto kicked off his shoes and socks and walked over to wade in the sea.

“Come on,” he smiled and raised a hand encouragingly at Akaashi who eyed him curiously before taking off his shoes and socks, as well as his jacket and left them in a neat pile beside Bokuto’s things. He dipped his feet hesitantly in the water, before walking forward and joining Bokuto.

“Thanks to you, my mother allowed me to finally come down here,” Akaashi said, squinting at the horizon. “We came to live at the estate because the doctors said the sea breeze might do me good, but they kept me locked inside.”

“What do you do to pass the time?” Bokuto asked.

“Read, mostly. Actually, all the time,” Akaashi answered. “Even if I wasn’t allowed to go out, my father consistently sent me books and tutors so at least my learning was up to standard. My mother joins me in the library sometimes to work on her embroidery.” He looked sideways at Bokuto. “I know a lot of things, like the deepest parts of the sea we’re standing in, the trade routes that cross it, but I’ve never been in it.”

“Well, if it’s any comfort, yesterday was the first time I’ve been to sea,” Bokuto admitted. “I never thought waves could rock a boat so much. I was sick to my stomach and I almost threw up over the side of the boat.” Akaashi smiled wryly.

“Did you?”

“No,” Bokuto chuckled. “The sea was a wonderful blue, I couldn’t bear to throw up in it.”

“That’s good,” Akaashi nodded. “I’ve always wondered about how salty the sea is.” Bokuto raised his eyebrows, bent down, and cupped some water in his hands.

“Want to try it for yourself?”

“As long as you don’t tell my mother,” Akaashi snorted. He cupped his hands down under Bokuto’s and bent down, raising their hands. Bokuto felt Akaashi’s lips kiss the tips of his fingers as he sipped the saltwater. Akaashi raised his head, making a face that was half-grimace, half-look of curiosity, and spat the saltwater back into the sea. Bokuto laughed.

“How was it?”

“The saltiest thing I ever tasted,” Akaashi said. “Even saltier than bacon. But now I know how salty sea is.”

They spent the next few hours at the beach, even taking their lunch there after Kageyama delivered it in a picnic basket. Bokuto took the time to watch Akaashi as he picked up rocks and shells to inspect before returning them where he found them, attempting to memorize his unwilling client’s face. In his head, Bokuto pictured Akaashi in a fancy, green dress jacket that matched the color of his eyes, sitting with his hands folded over each other and perhaps a book on his lap. He kept that image in mind when he asked Akaashi if they could head inside. The madam, whom Bokuto was to meet the next day, called Akaashi to the library giving time for Bokuto to begin sketching drafts of the portrait.

He took his time, drawing different parts of Akaashi at first: his hands, his hair, his side profile and ears, his nose and mouth, and lastly, his eyes. Bokuto had to soap the charcoal off his fingers before joining Akaashi at supper, this time making less conversation to observe the details of his face. When he was alone in his room again, Bokuto laid the sketches out before him near the fireplace and made an attempt to draw Akaashi’s eyes again, only to give up on lie on the floor, trying to remember how the candlelight at dinnertime accentuated the planes of his face and the faraway look in Akaashi’s eyes that seemed to lead out to sea.

…

The next day, Bokuto sat in front of Akaashi Keiji’s mother, or Mikoto, as she preferred that he would address her, in the manor’s library upstairs. Out of all the rooms Bokuto had visited in the giant house, this one seemed to be the most visited by the madam and her son. Like the dining room, it had large windows that lit the entire room. The wooden floor was polished and books that have left their shelves to rest in stacks around the room showed signs of it being frequented, most likely by Akaashi himself. Other than that, there was something about the entire room that felt comforting and warm.

“So, you’ve met my son,” Mikoto said, sipping from her teacup. She looked a lot like her son: same brown hair, green eyes, and sharp features. His master told him that she had one lame leg, thanks to being infected by polio years ago, which prevented her from going around frequently. “How did you find him?” she asked, fixing him with her gaze.

“He’s, well, quite reserved,” Bokuto answered. “Yesterday when we had breakfast, I feel as if he was testing me,” he added with a nervous chuckle.

“Ah, Keiji tends to do that,” Mikoto smiled ruefully. “We used to live near a city when he was younger. But, because of his health, my husband decided to move us here for the sea air. That did Keiji’s health better but unfortunately, he’s had very little encounter with the outside world. When we told him about the marriage arrangement, he’s grown distant from me.”

“Is that the reason why nobody has ever successfully painted his portrait?” Bokuto asked.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Mikoto nodded. “Keiji’s strong-willed and scheming, despite everything. He knows that we need the marriage for our lands and wealth to continue remaining under our family name. He doesn’t directly transgress the marriage, but he makes it difficult for it to continue.”

“He’s probably prolonging it,” Bokuto said, suddenly feeling sad for Akaashi. Even though he was better off with a wealthy family compared to Bokuto who was taken in by his master after his parents died, Akaashi had very little freedom. And now, a marriage.

“Probably,” Mikoto set her cup down and looked at the portrait of her that hung over the fireplace. “Which is why we need you, Bokuto-san. Your master played a hand in helping seal my marriage by painting this portrait. He did well. And now, you must do the same.” Bokuto gulped. “Your master spoke very highly of you. Have you started on the portrait?”

“Yes,” Bokuto nodded. Early that morning, he had sketched a rough layout of Akaashi on one of his canvases. Without Akaashi there to pose, it took a great deal for Bokuto to visualize his position. But he wasn’t his master’s student for nothing. Bokuto was confident that he could paint Akaashi’s likeness.

“Well, I mustn’t keep you then,” Mikoto said. “Call Akaashi to come here. I’ll let you have a few hours to paint.”

“Thank you, Mikoto-san,” Bokuto bowed before leaving the library, closing the double doors behind him. He walked down the great stairs of the manor and was about to head into his room when he ran into Akaashi heading his way. “Akaashi,” Bokuto grinned, trying to make it seem as if he hadn’t just discussed Akaashi’s marriage with his mother just a while ago. “I was just about to look for you.”

“Well, you found me,” Akaashi said. He was wearing trousers, a light blue shirt, and a beige jacket.

“Your mother requests that you join her in the library,” Bokuto said. Akaashi made a face.

“I don’t feel like reading, I’d rather go outside,” he said. “Would you come join me at the beach again? It should be at low tide when we are there.”

“I-I would, but…” Bokuto stammered.

“Is there anything you’re preoccupied with?” Akaashi asked, stepping closer to Bokuto. His green eyes bored into his, searching for an answer. Bokuto relented.

“Of course not,” he shook his head and smiled. “Going to the beach sounds great.” Bokuto groaned internally, thinking about how fast he’d have to paint before sunset. And then, Akaashi smiled, excitement shining in his eyes.

“Let’s go then, Bokuto-san.” And somehow, it was all alright. The two of them made their way to the beach, walking side by side. Akaashi had the same scarf he wore yesterday tied around his chin. Bokuto walked in front of Akaashi when they made their way down the trail along the rocky side of the cliff. Every so often, Bokuto felt the urge to turn around to check how Akaashi was doing, and to memorize the look of his hands as they gripped the side of the cliff, the concentration in his furrowed brow, how his green scarf billowed behind him in the wind. As they neared the bottom of the cliff, Bokuto suddenly heard the sound of rocks falling and Akaashi crying in surprise.

“Bokuto-san!”

Quick as a flash, Bokuto turned around to catch Akaashi in his arms, holding a hand out to steady himself against the cliff with the other wrapped around Akaashi’s waist. Up close, Bokuto could smell the sea breeze already caught in Akaashi’s clothes as well as the slightest whiff of vanilla. For a moment, he wondered if he could catch that scent in the portrait he was going to paint.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” Bokuto said. Akaashi stepped back, steadying himself against the rocky cliff wall. His one hand lingered on Bokuto’s shoulder before using it to pull down the scarf tied around his chin.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” he spoke. Without thinking, Bokuto held out a hand to him. Akaashi accepted and the two walked hand-in-hand to the beach.

Bokuto soon found out why Akaashi was excited to go down to the beach at this time. After leaving his scarf, jacket, shoes, and socks in a neat pile again on the sand, Akaashi waded out to sea and bent down in search of hermit crabs and other creatures in the tide pools. Bokuto waded with him for a while before sitting near a large rock and taking out a piece of paper folded around a small piece of drawing charcoal. He decided to focus on drawing Akaashi’s hands, folded over each other, before finding his own hand moving by itself and drawing Akaashi’s eyes, his nose, the scarf tied around his chin that covered his mouth. ‘Stupid,’ Bokuto shook his head, realizing that he didn’t need to sketch the scarf for the portrait. He folded the sketch and stuffed it in his shirt pocket, rubbing the charcoal of his fingers on his pants as Akaashi jogged towards him with something cupped in his hands.

“Bokuto-san,” he stopped, holding out his hands to Bokuto to show a hermit crab scuttling in it. Bokuto let out a chuckle.

“I see you’ve found a friend,” he reached out a finger to gently stroke the crab’s shell. Akaashi had a small smile on his face. “Thinking of bringing it home?”

“No,” Akaashi shook his head. “I read that they easily get depressed when they’re alone. And I don’t think he would want to live in a sink. I just wanted to hold one in my hands.”

“Like when you held seawater yesterday,” Bokuto said, smiling at the memory. “But I’d advice against tasting this one.” Akaashi looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Very funny, Bokuto-san,” he said dryly. Bokuto snickered. Akaashi bent down and released the hermit crab into the sand.

“Let’s head back, I’m good for today,” Akaashi said, walking back to where his things were. “I know you still have some things to work on.”

“I—”

“You don’t have to explain,” Akaashi held out a hand. “It was… rude of me to try to invade your privacy. I apologize. It’s just…” Akaashi pursed his lips and looked down.

“I get it. Kageyama isn’t the most talkative person around,” Bokuto grinned, sidling up next to him. “And I was hired to be your companion.”

“I don’t want you to think about it like that,” Akaashi said. “I know it’s not normal. It’s kind of sad that my mother would have to hire someone to be my friend here. So, can we both pretend that your salary doesn’t come from a fake friendship?”

“Well…” Bokuto shrugged. “If we’re going to that, want to add to the pretending?”

“How do you suppose we do that?” Akaashi looked at him curiously.

“If we’re going to be pretend friends, how did our ‘friendship’ begin?” Bokuto asked. “Maybe I was a boy from the nearby village who wandered here, wanting to see the Elysium Estate for myself. All the other kids say it’s an abandoned manor, a haunted one specifically. But I, a brave soul, decided to check it out.” Akaashi smiled and sat down on the sand to put on his socks and shoes.

“On that day, my mother let me read outside, just near the house of course. While reading my book, I couldn’t help but notice a noise coming from behind the house,” he continued.

“It was me, pelting pebbles at one of the windows,” Bokuto laughed, fully engaged in their imagining.

“Lucky for you, my mother was asleep and I happened to appear before you first.”

“I probably screamed like a girl in terror thinking you were a ghost.”

“And then I had to calm you down. And then tell you that there were in fact people living here.”

“And then I sense how lonely you are and invite you to play.”

“And then we play tag all morning and chase each other on the beach,” Akaashi smiled, eyes scanning the horizon again. “That’s a nice backstory. Though, it’s just a story.”

“It’s a good story,” Bokuto held out a hand and helped Akaashi to his feet. Both of them reached the manor a good three hours before the sun set, leaving Bokuto with enough time to begin mixing his paints to begin the portrait. It was probably his favorite part of painting, creating the colors to imprint a real picture on canvas. He mixed some red and white into a warm shade of brown for Akaashi’s skin, darkening the shade for his hair. Bokuto touched his brush to his paints and filled in his sketch. Then, he mixed in white and a darker brown for the highlights and contours. Next, he worked on Akaashi’s suit: dark green jacket and crisp white shirt. Clothing was harder to work on without a model but Bokuto tried to imagine where the creases and folds would be placed and ran his brush over them.

Now that he had begun, Bokuto didn’t want to stop painting, even after dinner when he had to light five candles and place them around his workstation. Eventually, the change in lighting got to him and Bokuto knew he couldn’t continue working like this. He packed away his paints, brushes, and palette, folded up his easel, and moved them to the extra storeroom connected to his bedroom. Then, he gently lifted the canvas, careful not to touch it, and placed it gently in the closet. Lastly, Bokuto blew out all the candles, taking the last one with him to take one last look at his painting before going to sleep. When he squinted, with the candle in front of him, the portrait looked as if it was on fire.

…

The next few days were like so: Bokuto would accompany Akaashi for walks on the beach or around the fields bordering the estate and the village over. Many times, Bokuto would have to rush his time to work on Akaashi’s portrait before sunset fell. In the mornings, he’d wake up early to check on errors he might have made in the dim light. Most of them were errors in shading, a color not mixed right, but there was little to fix. Before he knew it, Bokuto was almost finished with the portrait.

At the same time, he couldn’t help but feel guilty having to paint this portrait behind Akaashi’s back, knowing all the effort he put into preventing his arranged marriage as best as he could. Even seeing the excited look on Akaashi’s face, which lifted Bokuto’s spirits momentarily, had the bitter aftertaste of knowing that this excitement would all be ruined once Bokuto had to tell him about his circumstances for being at the manor. So, he spent a bit more time with Akaashi, hoping that he didn’t have to finish the portrait so early. That was until Akaashi.

“He’ll likely be in bed all day,” Mikoto said, telling Bokuto the news over breakfast when he asked why Akaashi wasn’t there. “That should give you enough time to finish the portrait by tomorrow, right?” she looked up at him over her breakfast. Bokuto swallowed.

“Yes Ma’am,” he nodded. For once, he wasn’t excited to get back to finishing a painting.

“Good. Keiji’s father has called for me to meet him in Kyushu. I set out to leave tomorrow after breakfast. If you like, I could be the one to tell Keiji about your… background,” she said, spreading butter on a slice of bread. He could tell that she was relieved, probably, knowing that she’d be rid of her sickly son. ‘No, that’s not it,’ Bokuto mentally shook his head, reminding himself that Akaashi Mikoto was simply doing her job as a mother and as someone concerned about the wealth of her family. She wasn’t a bad woman, Bokuto just somehow bitterly considered her as one.

“It’s alright, Mikoto-san,” Bokuto shook his head. “I’ll tell him myself.”

Mikoto smiled at him. Immediately, she looked years younger, just like the woman in the portrait that hung in the library. “Thank you, Bokuto-san. I trust that it hasn’t been easy, having to paint a portrait of my son without having him pose. I have no doubt that the portrait will be lovely, but I’m not looking forward to seeing the look on Keiji’s face after realizing what I’ve done.”

“Neither am I,” Bokuto smiled ruefully. “Forgive me for this but, I believe I’ve come to see him as a friend these past few weeks.”

“I know he sees you as one too,” Mikoto nodded, looking out the window. “I forbade him from going to the beach for years, fearing that something would happen to him. I couldn’t accompany him and Kageyama’s the only household staff who manages the property. These days, you can tell how excited he is in the morning. He doesn’t say it but you can see it in his eyes.”

Bokuto smiled wistfully. In his portrait, he tried to capture the small smile that would come up on Akaashi’s face whenever he was excitedly wading in the beach or showing Bokuto something new. But as successful as he was in picturing it, it didn’t translate in the portrait. The Akaashi Keiji there had a stern expression on his face, his eyes staring blankly. It was still a good portrait, but Bokuto knew that something was lacking.

After breakfast, he spent more than an hour adding the finishing touches on the portrait and looking at it from afar. He was finished with the portrait, but he didn’t want to tell Mikoto or her son yet. Instead, Bokuto ventured off into the kitchens where Kageyama was busy preparing lunch. With going to the beach with Akaashi and being locked in his room working on the portrait, Bokuto saw very little of Kageyama. Knowing that he’ll be leaving soon after giving the portrait to Mikoto, Bokuto felt that he should have at least one conversation with the butler.

“Bokuto-san,” Kageyama looked up from the pot he was stirring on the stove. “Is there anything you need?”

“Just water,” Bokuto said. “It’s alright, I can get some myself.” Kageyama nodded and Bokuto filled his cup at the tap near the stove before sitting at the long wooden table inside the kitchen. There was a bowl of potatoes, a chopping board, and a knife on the table. “Do these need peeling?” Bokuto asked, picking one up and, without waiting for an answer, picked up the knife.

“Please don’t trouble yourself with that, Bokuto-san,” Kageyama said hurriedly. “You still have the young master’s portrait to finish.”

“It’s already finished,” Bokuto smiled up at him. “And believe it or not, squinting at a canvas with a brush full of paint gets tiring after a while. I’m a pretty good assistant in the kitchen as well,” he said, peeling the potato. “But I’m a terrible cook.” A small smile flitted across Kageyama’s face. He sat at the table in front of Bokuto and cubed the peeled potatoes.

“How long have you worked here?” Bokuto asked, hoping to initiate conversation.

“A good five years,” Kageyama answered. “The previous butler was a good friend of mine but he decided to work in a much livelier household.” Bokuto quirked his lips slightly.

“And you don’t mind having a less-lively household?”

“It’s quite ideal, actually. I only have two people to wait upon. Both of them don’t require much, except for when the young master falls ill. The pay is good and the room and board is free,” Kageyama answered. “And the beach is just outside for me to visit.”

“It makes me sad knowing that Akaashi hasn’t visited the beach at least once before I came,” Bokuto said.

“Yes,” Kageyama nodded, pausing with his work to look up at Bokuto. “He’s… a lonely man. I’ve kept wondering again and again if maybe I could have tried to befriend him but… that would be imposing of me.”

“Akaashi probably wouldn’t mind,” Bokuto said. Kageyama blinked at him in surprise before smiling.

“Seeing how lively he is now with you as company, I agree.” Again, Bokuto felt regret in the back of his throat.

“Do you… do you think he’ll hate me after I tell him that I’m painting his portrait?” Bokuto asked. Kageyama pursed his lips.

“I don’t know the answer to that. But I have a feeling he will be disappointed,” he said, scooping up the cubed potatoes and adding them into the pot on the stove. “Lunch will be ready in half an hour. Would you like me to take it to your room?”

“No need,” Bokuto shook his head and then, an idea popped into his head. “I could take Akaashi’s lunch to his room.”

“Bokuto-san, you don’t need to—”

“Trouble myself, I know,” Bokuto nodded. “But I’m finished with the portrait and there’s nothing else for me to do. Also…” he sighed. “I know it’s pretty useless but maybe I could make amends with Akaashi this way?”

“He would appreciate it,” Kageyama said.

Bokuto carefully carried the tray of Akaashi’s lunch: soup with chicken and potatoes, and a roll of bread, upstairs to his room. It just occurred to him that he had never been to Akaashi’s room before and seldom even went to the second floor. Bokuto paused in front of it before knocking once, twice, thrice.

“Akaashi?” he spoke. “I, uh, brought—”

“Come in.”

Bokuto opened the door. He didn’t know what to expect when it came to Akaashi’s room but once he was inside, the whole space undeniably felt as if it belonged to Akaashi. The number of books in his bedroom was probably a quarter of what was in the manor’s library. Bokuto felt himself smile, knowing he found the source of the gaps in the bookshelves. The curtains on the window were drawn back, letting in a good amount of light. There was a small table pushed near the window and on it was a vase full of wildflowers. Bokuto recognized them as the ones that Akaashi had picked in the fields the other day. The owner of the room himself was sitting up in bed, wearing a maroon robe, with a book on his lap.

“I brought your lunch,” Bokuto said, lifting up the tray.

“Thank you,” Akaashi said, his voice sounded hoarse and weak. Bokuto set down the tray at his nightstand and sat down on the chair near his bed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sick,” Akaashi shrugged, there was a gleam in his eyes that betrayed the fact that he was teasing Bokuto.

“Care to elaborate?” he chuckled.

“I think it’s the usual flu,” Akaashi sighed. “Aches, fever, all that good stuff. Nothing new.”

“Well, you better eat to maintain your strength,” Bokuto said, gesturing to the tray. Akaashi smiled wryly and lifted it to his lap. While he ate, Bokuto looked over at the books on his nightstand. Most of them were books on philosophy and political science. Except for one with a deep, burgundy jacket and a well-worn spine. “Greek Myths and Legends,” Bokuto read aloud.

“It’s my favorite book from my collection,” Akaashi said, sipping some broth from his spoon. “My father had gifted it to me personally before we left our previous estate.”

“I didn’t take you for a fan of legends,” Bokuto said.

“They’re the best things to read,” Akaashi cocked his head. “They’ve been around longer than any scientific theory or philosophy. The very beginnings of how men and women attempted to make sense of a world they didn’t understand yet.”

“When you put it that way…” Bokuto reached out a hand. “May I?” Akaashi nodded his permission and Bokuto carefully extracted the book from the pile and thumbed through the pages. He could tell that the book was worth quite a lot. From the thick, cream-colored pages, the title that was written in perfect calligraphy, to the colored, watercolor illustrations. The fact that this book wasn’t behind a display case, well-worn from reading and placed on a nightstand said a lot about Akaashi. Bokuto flipped to a random page. “The Myth of Prometheus,” he read aloud. In front of him, Akaashi smiled and leaned back in his bed.

“’There lived a titan named Prometheus, the supreme trickster and the god of fire,’” he recited out loud. ‘Of course he remembers it word by word,’ Bokuto thought, smiling to himself as he continued where Akaashi left off.

“’He was tasked by Zeus to form man from earth and water, and he did so. But Prometheus, the titan, grew fond of his creation…’” And so, Bokuto continued reading, not stopping until he reached the end of the myth when Prometheus was sentenced to his punishment of being chained to a rock while an eagle feasted on smalleaccompanying illustration of Prometheus’s punishment.

“Zeus always was the most bloodthirsty of the three major gods,” Akaashi chuckled dryly. “It’s a good story. While it is meant to be a cautionary tale about what happens when you defy the orders of a god, it does bring to light the need for situations wherein such transgressions are necessary.” He paused and turned to look at Bokuto. “What do you think about it, Bokuto-san?”

“Well, I always thought it was about…love?” he said uncertainly. In all honesty, the only time he ever encountered the myth was when his master retold it to him. Greek myths were always the subject of many painting commissions so Bokuto was trained to be familiar with them. The hard part when it came to painting them was adding that slight variation, the artist’s interpretation of the myth.

“Love?” Akaashi echoed. “You seem to be quite the romantic, Bokuto-san.”

“I-I mean,” Bokuto stammered, thinking of a good reason. “Prometheus was in that whole predicament because he loved his own creation too much, right? And it’s almost impossible to love something you created.” It was true, he knew that much, especially among painters. Sometimes that love gets to the point that it was impossible for him to find imperfections in his work, or even fathom being separated from the painting. In the end, most of the paintings Bokuto loved would end up in the hands of the people who paid for it. “It would be cruel of him to deny his own creations that fire, and Prometheus knew the consequences for it. I bet even after being chained to that rock, he would still make that same decision again if he could.” When he finished, he found Akaashi looking at him with an amused expression on his face.

“You’re quire right,” he said. “It’s an interesting take on the myth. I never would have thought of it but then again, I’m not a creator.” The look on Akaashi’s face seemed to lay bare Bokuto’s secrets.

“D-do you have any other favorite myths?” Bokuto asked, hoping to change the subject. “I could read a couple more for you if you like.” Akaashi placed his tray back on the nightstand and folded his hands over his lap.

“That would be nice Bokuto-san. Could you turn to page three-hundred and twenty?”

“’The Twelve Labors of Heracles,”’ Bokuto read aloud.

“It’s a long one. Are you up for it?” a corner of Akaashi’s mouth was turned up in a smile.

“Of course I am,” Bokuto returned the smile. He’s never been much of a reader, especially after being taught by the older painters at his master’s studio and even then, he had been slow when it came reading and writing. At first, Bokuto winced as he stumbled over some of the words but Akaashi kindly helped him through it and didn’t seem to mind. He was quite good at making up voices for characters like Pan, the satyr or Medusa that cracked a smile on Akaashi’s face. Before he knew it, it was already dinnertime when Kageyama brought up their food. Mikoto came in once to take Akaashi’s temperature and before leaving the room, she made eye contact with Bokuto who hgave the most imperceptible of nods. ‘Yes, the painting is done,’ it meant, and Bokuto was back to contemplating how to break the news to Akaashi.

“Something the matter, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked. They were both still eating dinner at the table near his bedroom window. Akaashi looked visibly better than he looked earlier.

“I…” Bokuto swallowed and felt his hand curl into a fist on his lap. “Akaashi… I-I haven’t exactly been truthful to you.” Silence fell, Akaashi stopped what he was doing and looked at Bokuto, waiting patiently for him to finish. It only made Bokuto even more nervous. “You see, I’m actually—”

“Another painter that my mother hired,” Akaashi interrupted him. Bokuto’s eyes went wide.

“You… you knew?”

Akaashi pursed his lips and reached for Bokuto’s hand, the one that was still on the table. His hand was smaller and more delicate against Bokuto’s hands, his touch feather-light. “As much as you scrub your hands, you can’t quite erase all of the charcoal and paint stains completely, nor the smell of turpentine.”

“Ahaha, I should have been more careful then,” Bokuto laughed nervously and stopped when he saw the expression on Akaashi’s face: it was the picture of melancholy, and Bokuto felt his heart ache. Did he still choose the befriend him even after knowing his intentions? “I… I’m sorry,” he apologized softly.

“Why are you apologizing?” Akaashi looked up to meet his eyes.

“You didn’t need to be so civil around me since you knew what my intentions were,” Bokuto said. “Your mother told me that you constantly evaded the other painters’ and refused to pose for them to delay your wedding.”

“That is true,” Akaashi nodded, taking his hand back. Bokuto’s hand quickly felt the loss of warmth. “But shouldn’t I say the same for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t have to befriend me either. All you had to do was to paint my portrait in secret. You could have quickly denied my requests to go to the beach or ask my mother to keep me occupied for as long as you wanted.” The candlestick on their table was their only light source in the room and it illuminated Akaashi’s features so clearly and Bokuto felt every word he said. “Or is it, you just did those so I would trust you and for your cover not to be blown.”

“I…” Bokuto could hardly find the words. It was just like the first time they met, when they talked over breakfast before going to the beach. Except, Bokuto knew there was something at stake, only he didn’t know precisely what that was. Akaashi Keiji was just another one of his clients. Bokuto’s job would be finished tomorrow and he would go back to his studio with his money and he would wait for his next commission and in a few years, he wouldn’t even remember Akaashi Keiji among the other paintings he would make.

And so, he decided on his reply.

“Yes. You’re right.” He steeled himself for the look of hurt on Akaashi’s face, maybe a few things he would shout. ‘Those are momentary. I would forget about them later on,’ he thought. Instead, Akaashi leaned back in his seat and turned his head to the window.

“I see,” was all he said. And for some reason, that was worse.

“Akaashi—”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” Akaashi cut him off, he was still looking out the window. “You may retire to your rooms now, Bokuto-san. You’ll have to travel home tomorrow.”

Bokuto swallowed hard and stood up, murmuring a ‘good night’ before leaving Akaashi’s room, running down the stairs, and entering his own room. He was out of breath and livid. ‘Why am I letting that get to me?’ he thought. With every breath he inhaled, an image of Akaashi came to mind. The intense look on his face when he was trying to figure out of Bokuto was lying. The pure excitement at seeing the beach. The hesitance giving way to confidence as he waded into the water. The pucker of his lips when he tasted the sea. The pure concentration as he hunted for hermit crabs. The movement of his lips when he said Bokuto’s name.

Without even realizing it, Bokuto found himself standing in front of Akaashi’s portrait. ‘Painters have an instinct,’ he remembered his master telling him when Bokuto made his first oil painting of a landscape. ‘A lot of us can tell when something is wrong with what we’ve painted. Not when it comes to the technical skills like light or shading. But it pertains to whether we’ve successfully captured a scene that’s alive, and all scenes are, on canvas.’ With his instinct, Bokuto could instantly tell that the portrait he painted of a man with a stiff expression on his face and no light behind his eyes, was not Akaashi.

Bokuto picked up his turpentine-soaked rag that he used to clean his brushed and held it over the face in the portrait. With one swift motion, he swiped it off.

…

He barely slept that night, knowing for sure that he was going to lose his job the next morning. He was going to be one of those painters who had left the estate empty-handed and frustrated, after getting so close. Yet try as he might, Bokuto knew that he didn’t regret destroying the portrait. So maybe, he could return with his head held high.

After stealing a few hours of sleep, Bokuto woke up to wash himself as best as he could and change into a clean shirt. He did all of this without looking at the portrait. Kageyama called him for breakfast and Bokuto steeled himself to face Mikoto and Akaashi. She attempted to make conversation over breakfast and yet he’d nod once in a while and pick at his breakfast, choosing not to acknowledge Bokuto who felt a deep ache in his chest.

Finally, it was time to unveil the portrait. Bokuto knew that he could simply tell Mikoto that he chose to change it in the last minute but on the other hand, he wanted Akaashi to see what he had done. So, he covered the portrait with a cloth and met them in the library to unveil the finished product.

“Bokuto Koutarou!” Mikoto exclaimed indignantly. She was clearly frustrated and Bokuto couldn’t blame her. She has gone through this same scenario a few times over. “You said you finished the portrait.”

“I did,” Bokuto nodded stiffly. “But… it wasn’t satisfactory enough.”

“You could have left that up for me to decide,” Mikoto huffed. Bokuto glanced over at Akaashi to find that the corner of his mouth had turned up in a smile. ‘Maybe this was his plan all along,’ Bokuto wondered. But it didn’t matter now. “Clearly, you are just like all the other painters who have come here. I suggest you leave as soon as possible.”

Bokuto nodded again, taking the cloth to cover up the portrait when Akaashi spoke up, saying something that neither Bokuto nor Mikoto could have expected.

“I’ll pose for him.”

Bokuto stopped and turned to face him. Akaashi was looking directly at him with a look of mild amusement on his face.

“You will?” Mikoto asked.

“I will,” Akaashi nodded. “I think… it’s time I put off this marriage long enough,” he explained. And yet, Bokuto didn’t quite believe he was telling the truth.

“Oh, Keiji,” Mikoto’s voice softened as she held her son’s face in her hands and enveloped him into a hug. “Thank you. You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.”

“I know, Mother,” Akaashi said stiffly.

“As much as I would like to ask ‘why now?’, I really must get going,” Mikoto straightened up and looked at Bokuto this time. “I will be gone for two weeks. I expect a fully-finished portrait by the time I return.”

“I shall not disappoint,” Bokuto bowed.

“Good,” Mikoto nodded.

“Let me walk you to the ship, Mother,” Akaashi said, offering her his arm. Before leaving the room, Akaashi glanced once at Bokuto and with an imperceptible incline of his head, gestured for him to follow. An hour later, Mikoto and her luggage, which Bokuto helped Kageyama with, were loaded in the ship waiting for her at the docks. After the ship set sail, Kageyama was the first to head back to the house. Bokuto stayed with Akaashi as they watched the ship sail into the distance. He had a million questions for him but for now, all he could feel was relief. As Bokuto watched the way the wind swept through Akaashi’s hair, he knew that he wouldn’t mind looking at him for the next two weeks.

…

They started working on the portrait the next day. Kageyama offered to push the long table from the dining room to the side since it was the most well-lit room in the estate. In the middle, they added a chair and a low table for Akaashi to pose on. Bokuto set up his easel and spare canvas at the side, grateful at being able to paint in good lighting after having to work secretly in his own room. He began painting the background of the portrait with broad strokes of a maroon color to keep busy when Akaashi walked inside.

To say that he looked stunning was an understatement. Before Bokuto began his first portrait, Mikoto had shown him the suit that Akaashi was supposed to wear: a dark emerald green with golden buttons and a crisp white shirt meant to be worn with the color turned up. Seeing Akaashi actually wearing it was a different story. The suit hugged him perfectly, accentuating the slight curves in his waist with the high collar just reaching the bottom of his chin. Akaashi had combed his hair back just slightly which showed off his forehead.

“You look…” Bokuto began to say before stopping himself quickly. “Ready.”

“Thank you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi nodded curtly, unaware of how good he looked. “If you would…” he gestured to the chair in the center of the dining room and Bokuto hurried to pose him.

“Sit slightly forward in the chair,” he instructed. “Back straight. You can rest your elbow on the table if you want but the other hand, please keep on your lap.” Akaashi followed the instructions. “Lastly,” Bokuto reached a hand out to touch Akaashi’s shoulder to tilt him slightly towards the canvas. He was aware of how close Akaashi’s face was and that he was probably staring at Bokuto. ‘In all my years of painting, have I ever worked someone as beautiful as this?’ he wondered, before shaking the thought of his head and backing away to survey the pose. “Good, perfect,” Bokuto nodded before returning to his canvas.

“What expression should I have on my face?” Akaashi asked.

“A neutral expression would be ideal,” Bokuto answered, quickly painting an outline on the canvas. “If you get uncomfortable in your position please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“Alright, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi said. “Am I… allowed to speak?”

Bokuto glanced up at him and back to the painting. “Of course,” he swallowed before continuing. “I have you to thank for my job.”

“I didn’t do it for your job,” he heard Akaashi speak. Bokuto bit his lip. This wasn’t an ideal position for them to have this conversation.

“Then… why?” Bokuto asked.

“I should ask why you decided to destroy the portrait of me.”

“That… That’s because the person I painted wasn’t you,” Bokuto answered. “I didn’t want it to be the work I submitted.”

“I see…” Akaashi said. He had the same amused expression on his face as he had when he saw the portrait unveiled to him. “It’s just the opposite of what Prometheus did.” Bokuto paused his work to listen. “In your disgust at your creation, you opted to destroy it. Such is the mind of a creator.” There was a wry smile playing on Akaashi’s lips.

“It wasn’t disgust,” Bokuto contradicted him. “It was… a lack of attachment more like.”

“How come?” Akaashi cocked his head ever so slightly, his pose still undisturbed.

“Because my subject wasn’t aware of being painted,” Bokuto smiled, finally deciding to meet Akaashi’s gaze. Surprise flickered there, and then mirth.

“That better be a good portrait then.”

“It will be.”

They were able to finish a good amount of the portrait in that afternoon before Akaashi grew tired of posing. Bokuto was about to offer to go to the beach again but stopped when Akaashi headed straight for his room. ‘Maybe he doesn’t forgive me quite yet,’ Bokuto thought with a sigh, only for those thoughts to end when Akaashi asked him to have dinner in his room, especially since the dining table was out of use. It was a relief to see Akaashi engaged with him in conversation. The book of “Greek Legends and Myths” were still on the nightstand where Bokuto had left it. And somehow, with Mikoto out for two weeks, Bokuto felt as if he wanted to stay in that manor forever.

Before going straight to his room, he decided to pass by the dining room to look at the portrait again. He had worked fast, completing a few days’ work in just one day. The sensation of not wanting to leave was even stronger and Bokuto felt a hard lump in his throat. He walked briskly past the dining room when a small voice whispered in the back of his head: ‘Turn around.’

Bokuto spun around and caught sight of Akaashi standing in the far end of the room. Only, he was pale and almost transparent, and wearing an elaborate suit. Bokuto blinked once and then the vision was gone.

[nicostolemybones]

Amber Valentine

Tw: minor character deaths (referenced), mentions of homophobia, ambiguous rejection (purposely left unanswered so the reader can choose which they want it to be)

Nico woke up. Nico didn't like that. He tried to sleep again but no, sleep was impossible, because today was a bad day and his brain hated him. He wanted compensation from life for waking him up today, on Valentine's day of all days.

He huffed, dreading the day more and more as the heavy weightlessness of sleep left his bones to be replaced with a dull ache. He didn't have the strength to get out of bed yet, and to be quite honest, he didn't really want to. 

So he opted to angrily stare at the ceiling like it personally offended him. The one time he wakes up before breakfast, and it's on the one day he wishes some kid would whack him round the head and put him in a coma for the day. He bet Will was already out on his morning run. He'd wake at the ass crack of dawn like a heathen and exercise like a heathen and glow like it didn't fucking give everyone a headache like a heathen.

But he was cute, so Nico forgave him.

Cute didn't really describe it. Will was a beautiful. Nico wondered what it would be like to wake up in the morning to the sight of Will sleeping beside him. He could imagine it- Will laying on his stomach with his head on his arms, golden blond hair fanning out onto the pillow, his skin glowing softly in the morning light. Nico wondered if Will had freckles on his back too, and if Will would let him paint them, like angel wings and constellations.

Stupid cute boy making him have emotions this early in the goddamn morning on the worst day of his life. Should be illegal. Nico forced himself out of bed and prepared for the day before opening the door- and the offending boy was stood nervously on his doorstep, freckles glowing a light yellow whilst his skin glowed soft amber. He had such a pretty smile and pretty eyes and Nico absolutely despised him for being so cute and making him blush in public by being so goddamn cute. 

"What do you want Solace? You see the sky? You see that giant orb of radiation and death? Yeah? Well that means it's way too fucking early to be awake."

"Nice to see our resident vampire is already in full brooding mode! That must mean you're awake enough for a hug!" Will beamed, and gods Nico couldn't breathe because… holy shit. His smile was so beautiful and he was glowing sunrise yellow and he had dimples okay and his nose was scrunched and Nico forgot how to breathe. He was so pretty.

"Don't you dare, Solace!"

"But hugs," Will pouted, his glow slowly turning sunset yellow as Nico tried to resist. Nico couldn't resist because his boyfriend looked like a kicked puppy and he gave good hugs. 

"Okay, fine, hugs," Nico relented with a sigh. Will's glow was back in full force, sunrise yellow with a warm amber undertone, and he was practically throwing himself at Nico, wrapping him up in a warm hug. Fuck, Nico was gonna die like this and go to Elysium, he couldn't function because the cute bastard was hugging him and he was warm and he smelled gorgeous, like lemons and antiseptic and cinnamon and sandalwood and sunshine and sweat and boy. Then Nico realised he hadn't been hugging back- he could tell by the way the heat from Will's glow changed slightly, nervous heat, that he was shifting back into a sunset hue, and that kickstarted Nico's brain to hug back, and Will's warmth grew comforting again. 

Nico didn't want Will to ever let go.

If he was honest, he was kinda touch starved. He may have been touch averse, but that didn't mean he didn't need affection from time to time, and Will's hugs made him feel safe and sentimental and fuzzy. And Will was taller than him so his face was met with a wall of muscle and fuck Nico could die because that was his man and he was a fucking snack. Between feeling sentimental and flustered, Nico felt overwhelmed- the touch starved side of him wanted to cry and the teenage side of him practically wanted to consume Will and the conflicting emotions were too much for him to process at once. 

He reluctantly let go, noticing Will's hesitation in the way his arms twitched as he let go, like his body didn't want to let go and Will had to fight it. Nico wanted to hug him again, but he knew if he hugged Will again he'd grow deeply uncomfortable and want to rip his flesh off. Sometimes physical contact was like that feeling when a bug flies into your face and you can still feel it twenty minutes after it's flew away. But ten times more intense and distressing to the point it made Nico want to scream and cry and rip his face off, but apparently, that isn't what physical contact felt like and Nico was being over dramatic so naturally everybody would pull him into hugs or headlocks and Nico would freeze or bolt. Except for Will. Will may have been very huggy, but he never tried to force Nico into physical contact. He didn't question it if Nico pushed him away sometimes and he didn't take it personally. 

"So uh…" Will began, his freckles a nervous pale amber, which Nico knew meant he was anxious. He didn't finish his sentence, picking at the bandage around his hand instead. 

"It's Valentine's day," Nico said quietly, and Will nodded awkwardly. 

"Yeah…"

"I already told you, I won't celebrate it."

"I know," Will said quickly, and the amber of his freckles was almost a dark chocolate gold, "I wanted to talk. Can we- can we go somewhere?" He looked just about ready to cry, and Nico's concern was able to quickly override his aversion to being seen. 

"You look terrified," Nico noted, and Will nodded, not moving. Nico started to walk, and Will followed him. Nico could feel the heat radiating off him, so Nico walked him to a far spot through the forest- walking helped anxiety by tricking your brain into thinking you were running away- fight or flight. And for a short while, Will seemed less anxious, but the closer they got to their favourite talking spot, the darker Will's glow got until he was a dark sunset orange. Sunrise colours were good- sunset ones were worrying. "Will?"

"I really wanna tell you something but I never talk about it and I'm scared to talk about it because I like running away from my feelings and I need to talk about it and I trust you the most to understand how I feel so can we talk about it?"

"Of course," Nico said gently, guiding Will to sit down. He looked on the verge of tears.

"I hate Valentine's day," Will said quietly, "I hate it so much."

"Glad we're on the same page," Nico said quietly, and he knew that Will would catch his meaning: I'll understand, you can tell me anything.

"You already know I'm from Austin, right? Well I come from a super nice area, y'know? My school had a gsa and the local church I went to as a kid was super accepting and had rainbow flags and funded a shelter for lgbt youths. My grandma was a lesbian and her wife made me my very first punk jacket when I was six. So uh… I grew up in a super nice place. So I knew quite young that I weren't straight, you know? I hadn't really had crushes yet but I remember we all used to play kiss chase at recess and I always wanted to kiss the girls and the boys. So I knew I wasn't straight. And I came out to my mom on Valentine's day because young me was making Valentine's day cards for all the boys in my class. Except for John. He was a cunt. I didn't like John. But anyways um- I ran downstairs and I yelled at the top of my lungs 'mama I'm gay!' And she looked really awkward and just replied 'that's nice, honey,' and I thought maybe she thought I was joking so I was like- 'no mama, I wanna kiss all the boys and all the girls,'- I didn't know what bi was, by the way- and she just gave me this really awkward look and said we'd talk about it later, and then she went to hang the washing. I didn't know if she was awkward because she didn't accept me or just the way I came out, and I still don't know and-..."

"Will?" He was crying by now, a sunset red undertone to his sunset amber glow, pushing the ball of his palms into his eyes to try and stop the tears.

"I never got to ask if she was okay with me being gay because a few minutes later I heard scary noises so I hid under the kitchen table and the scary noises sounded like a really big lion and I heard mama scream so I went out and I screamed because she was dead and bleeding and eaten and then it tried to eat me too but a goat man grabbed me and ran and took me to camp, and that's why I'm an all year round camper…"

"Will…" Nico began gently, before reaching out and holding him in a strong hug. "I wish I could tell you if your mom accepted you or not… and I wish I could make all your pain go away…"

"I always thought mama got killed because of me. Because if I didn't say I was gay she wouldn't have gone outside. So I didn't wanna tell anyone I liked boys ever in case they died, and I spent all these years so sure that she rejected me that day because she looked uncomfortable and sad and I felt like nobody loved me if my mama didn't love me and Valentine's day reminds me of all that and… it hurts… rejection hurts..."

"How long have you been holding all that in for," Nico asked softly, rubbing comforting circles on his back and gently carding his fingers through his hair. Will's hair was dry and floofy but it never seemed to knot. 

"Since forever," Will sniffled, "and I felt bad because I could never celebrate Valentine's day without being real sad and thinking about rejection."

"Please don't feel bad," Nico said softly, "it's okay. We never have to celebrate it, it reminds you of your trauma."

"I didn't think anyone would understand…"

"My mom died too," Nico said quietly, pulling away from Will so he wouldn't overwhelm himself too much. "I watched her die too. But it wasn't a monster, it was Zeus."

"I- I didn't know, I'm so sorry," Will whispered, and Nico shook his head.

"I lost a sister about two days before Christmas. Bianca. Which is why I got upset when you wanted me to wear the Christmas jumper. But- my point is I understand how it can ruin a holiday, and I want you to know that I understand, and you're not alone because I relate."

"I'm sorry," Will said quietly, "I'm really sorry." Will moved to hug Nico, but Nico gently pushed him away. As usual, Will didn't protest or try again.

"I hate Valentine's day because I was outed," Nico began after a deep breath. Will's glow was sunset orange and yellow with concern. "I was outed by Eros to Jason. I had a crush on Percy in the past, and Eros made me tell him. Jason, I mean. He shot me with an arrow and everything. I wasn't ready to come out- I hadn't accepted myself yet. I wasn't comfortable. When I was a kid being gay would have got me killed. And after Eros made me come out it felt like suddenly everyone knew. And I even accidentally outed myself to an entire Roman Legion thingy. Then when you made me come to the infirmary I felt obliged to tell Percy. All my life I'd seen myself as creepy, and everyone else thought I was creepy, so I felt like I had to tell him. Like he had a right to know. I still wasn't okay with myself and I didn't want anybody to know, and I still struggle sometimes with internalised homophobia. Or at least a fear of being outed or being seen or being attacked. I can't handle hearing slurs or judging looks or bigoted preachers without breaking down in tears because I didn't ask for this and it feels like I'm constantly being punished when I didn't even do anything wrong. I'll just be minding my own business and some asshole tries to ruin it, because somehow, people just know."

"I understand that," Will said softly, but Nico felt scared- Will had an angry sunset red undertone to a near white yellow sunset glow. He thought Will was mad at him for being a coward. "I'm gonna smash every last Cupid statue and heart card I see dotted around camp. You shouldn't have to have your triggers and your trauma shoved in your face any day."

"Will don't," Nico said softly, reaching for Will's hand, and a sunrise orange began to seep through the darker undertones, like he was trying to reassure Nico that it was alright. "They don't know, and I don't want to ruin their day. I was gonna stay in my cabin, but… I'm glad I'm out here with you. I feel safe here with you."

"I feel safe with you too," Will said softly, and his glow radiated a warm sunrise amber with yellow undertones- fondness, golden. 

"Maybe we should reclaim Valentine's day," Nico said quietly. "Make it ours. As a fuck you to all our trauma, y'know? Avoid all the traditions and just snog the fuck out of each other until we both turn blue then do whatever the fuck we want. We have each other now."

"So… celebrate Valentine's day to spite Valentine's day by making it our own? Not romantic, just spite?" Will seemed amused, a thin smile on his lips making one of his dimples prominent where the corner of his mouth turned upwards to form a lopsided smile. 

"I'm powered by spite and I'm tiny so yeah," Nico replied, bumping shoulders with Will. "Hey… maybe one day when you're ready for answers, I can summon your mom," he suggested gently.

"Maybe," Will replied softly, "I love you."

"Ti amo."

So they kissed, and they kissed until Will's glow was golden and bright and encompassing Nico in warm rays, and the shadows were dancing around Nico and holding Will close. They kissed until they felt fuzzy and hot, and they kissed until things would have got real awkward if they would have continued. When they pulled apart, Will's cheeks were a ruddy pink to the tips of his ears and blotchy, and Nico was sure he was puce. Fuck Cupid and fuck manticores too. Nothing could take this love away from them.

[hazelenergy]

☕️ Gehenna

Sometimes y’alls ramblings about Gehenna feel like idiots online screaming the world was going to end in 2012. For some of you, its like how people freaked about computers exploding on New Years in 2000. You rush to unplug all your devices before it’s too late, only to realize nothing bad was going to happen- you just made everyone freak out or possibly destroyed your computer. 

No worries. I get it. The end of the world is terrifying to everyone. 

But, I found it a bit odd that immortal beings would have a doomsday story. But then again, no one seems to have read the fine print on immortality where it clearly says terms and conditions apply. Regardless, my actual feelings on Gehenna have always been pushed down because a lot of kindred acted as if I personally was going to bring about the end times. But I can’t deny, I have experienced some weird stuff besides my general existence. 

Living as the Tremere lab rat meant that no one would dare lay a finger on me directly without fear of Mary’s wrath. But it did mean I got subjected to their apocalyptic speculations. Most of the time I had no idea what they were talking about. Sometimes for fun, I’d just roll with it. 

Once, a kindred asked if I’ve ever been pregnant. Which first off, rude and invasive. Secondly, I’m a big lesbian. The likelihood of me being pregnant isn’t zero, but it is slim. But this Malkavian had my attention. She looked older, maybe in her 50s and had streaks of silvery hair covering her eyes. I laughed and told her no. She smiled at me and then asked if I liked the name Wendy. I spoke before I had a chance to organize my thoughts and said Wendy is a cute name. She looked at me gravely and said I knew the time of thinblood would be upon us again. She then said, “Keep your legs crossed, Daughter of Eve,” and then left Elysium. Needless to say, I went back to Mary’s Haven instead of home with a new partner. 

Within 24 hours of every Elysium we were ordered to spill our interactions and reveal any learned secrets to Mary. When I told her about this interaction she raised her eyebrow and got up to her filing cabinet. She pulled out a thin file labeled Dhampirs. The first article was a medical autopsy on an infant named Wendy- the research done by a Dr. Douglas Netchurch. Mary explained that it is rare, but thinbloods can and have carried children to term. And like the presence of thinbloods is a portent of Gehenna- their physical offspring is as well. She then laughed harder than ever before, wiping a bloody tear from her eye. I asked what was so funny. “You must forgive me, but the idea of you mothering a child is utterly amusing.”

I suppose this falls under the Gehenna where there’s too many of us and masquerade breaches are bound to happen. And when the mask is completely shattered, we are all in danger of humans destroying us. And I can’t imagine explaining to a toddler how to contend with the Beast and not hurt others with their powers. Seems like a recipe for disaster.

When I was much more settled in my Elysium routine, I had caught the attention of one of the younger Toreadors of Atlanta. Naturally, the Harpy made me extremely aware of everything about her and then Butternut, my nickname for the Nosferatu Primogen, told me everything else for 20 dollars. She was fond of the stars and their silvery light. I had offered to take her stargazing a little outside Atlanta in exchange for some vitae. This was a fairly normal transaction for me and I understood the price was steep for many. So I always tried to make it worth their while, with a nice night or a wild night depending on their tastes. She pointed out several constellations to me and their varying mythologies. I’ll admit, it was fascinating to hear what different cultures thought of different constellations. I could point out the obvious ones like Leo the Lion or the Little Dipper. She could point out ones that I could barely see, calling them things like Lyra and Crux. She told me of stories of constellations far beyond our sights, some of which can only be seen on clear nights in the Southern Hemisphere. That’s when I noticed it. A bright, gleaming red star in the center of the Big Dipper. It almost looked like an eye in the bright sky. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread. But I willed myself to ask about it. She turned to me and playfully said, “Don’t be silly. There’s nothing there,” as she curled closer. I gently explained it was still there and asked her to tell me what it’s story could be. I think she thought it was some sort of game and made up some story to humor me. The rest of the night went as expected. I got to taste and temporarily brew Presence, she got the closest to Mary’s Haven without revealing her true intent and a one-night-stand with the Camarilla’s thinblood kitten. But I continued to see the star for several months. 

I finally got an idea of what I saw when I met with a Salubri by the name of Nils. He explained that he foresaw something terrible would happen in the city of Atlanta, but the only way to stop the Wyrm was to travel to a city with a Salted Lake. It took a while for us to understand what he meant, and we don’t know if he was successful. To show his good will, he offered us gifts for the night and hope for eternity. For hope. he explained how thinbloods from his domain could walk this path and return to being mortal. For kindred such as himself, the sun is no longer an enemy. When he took Solomon’s hands, he quieted his raging beast for the night. When he took mine, he flinched for a moment like he wanted to let go. He looked into my eyes and said, “You poor childe. You willingly accepted madness to keep your heart from being poisoned. My soul aches knowing you have suffered so much.” Its then, I swear, his forehead began to faintly glow in the shape of an eye. When it opened, it glowed with the same red of that star. I wanted to run away as fast as I could, it didn’t matter how far I had to run. I pulled against his hands, but couldn’t get away. Then, my mind quieted. The thoughts that raced around my head stopped...I didn’t realize how muddled my mind had become. I looked back to see his eye closing, the red starlight shifting to gold. He released my hands and said, “You saw Ixion, no? I think a fledgling like you shouldn’t be weighed with the powers of an Oracle, but I am not one to cast final judgement. The power will return when your mind is clean.” 

Turns out, in 2002, A red star was visible with a telescope and NASA named it Ixion, which is the Greek equivalent for Cain. I jokingly mentioned how Cain sightings are another portent of Gehenna but didn’t expect him to be such a star. Tommy and I laughed. Cass didn’t and then demanded to know how long I could see Wormwood. I explained that first saw it in early spring, 2019 and I haven’t seen it since October 1st, 2019. She made a series of frantic phone calls- I think she was checking up on kindred she used to run with. I’ve known for quite some time Cass used to be with the sabbat. I don’t know what happened between her and her pack. She usually is very willing to explain things to me, but her past is still a complete mystery- aside from her weird fling with Mary. ew. I can respect when she tells me to just drop it. But I can smell the strange shifting aroma from her resonance. She’s angry, then she is filled with sorrow, then she’s afraid. 

I think about Gehenna more than a fledgling probably should and more than is probably healthy. It does make me uneasy for reasons I can’t explain. I guess since everyone else is so afraid- I should be too. However, I am curious to a fault. I have done some research into our doomsday myth. From what I’ve gathered, signs have been occurring for quite some time. And, we are all still here. Bad things seem to happen regardless, it doesn’t mean its Gehenna. But it is a nice scapegoat when things go wrong. Blame it on inevitable destiny rather than cascading consequences of poor leadership. The world is going to keep turning with or without us. Simple as that. 

[kassandratheeaglebearerblog-blog]

Comparison of LGBT history

Màlaka! Well, here we go again, another example of the madness of your generation! After skin tone, you decided to judge people and illtreat them depending on who they decided to love? This modern world will never cease to shock me, for better and for worst. It should be noted that over the years, you all created terms which did not exist in my days. This was slightly confusing for me at first but I now understand this was an effort made to classify and differentiate between all of those different variants of sexual preference and identity one might express.

 First, let’s start with what you call ‘gender identity’. By your modern standards, it refers to one’s sense of one’s self as gendered person. It may or may not correspond to one’s gender assigned at birth and may or may not conform to one’s perception of masculinity or feminity. In my case, since I was considered to be a girl at birth and still identify as a woman, I would be what you call ‘cisgender’. Though, I have to say, since I spent most of my time on the battlefield and was not scared to stand up for myself and those I loved, I am not exactly your typical Spartan lass and I am the complete opposite of how an Athenian woman was supposed to act. And fighting so much did help me develop a musculature any men would envy. Màlaka, even Alkibiades looks scrawny compared to me! Though he does know how to make up for his shortcomings…

If one’s gender identity does not match one’s gender given at birth, then one is considered as being ‘transgender’. Those people, in an attempt to obtain the body they dream of, might get surgery from your physicians. Hippokrates would be glad to see how far medicine has progressed! Which leads us to the next term, ‘MTF’ which refers to someone considered by society to be male getting surgery so that their body looks more womanly. The other term is ‘FTM’ which refers to a female individual getting surgery in order to make her body fit the norms of masculinity. As a result of transitioning, people need to change their ‘legally recognised sex status’ which can prove to be difficult due to the divisive laws yours leaders enact. We also have people who your physicians, in their fancy language, call ‘transsexuals’. The latter refers to people with significant cross-gender identity.  In order not to hurt anyone’s feelings, you younglings created ‘gender inclusive/gender neutral pronouns’ which are pronouns used for people who identify as being outside the gender binary. We also have ‘intersex’, which refers to people born with ambiguous genitals. This word seems to be favoured over ‘hermaphrodite’, which is frowned upon as over the years, it became a slur. In my Greece, the word did exist, but as ‘Hermaphroditos’.

‘Hermaphroditos’ was the son and fruit of, unsurprisingly, the many extramarital love affairs of Aphrodite had, with the father this time being Hermes. Maybe Hermes tried to find solace in her arms? I cannot blame him after his love, Persephone, threw him off a bridge right in front of me. But at the same time why was he courting a married woman? Though Persephone herself told me she hated her husband, Hades, because he kidnapped her from her mater’s care. And as I witnessed, Hades was not exactly a model husband because he was too busy creating chaos and torturing humans in Tartarus and was neglecting his wife a lot. Which led to Persephone turning into a control freak who was making the undead’s life in the fields of Elysium impossible. Màlaka! Take it from my experience, never meddle in the Gods love affairs!

From what my mater told me as a little girl, Hermaphroditos was a remarkably handsome young man who caught the attention of a naiad called Salmacis. Salmacis was so enamoured by him that she prayed to be united with him forever. A God responded to her request by merging their two forms into one, creating a single androgynous form. From this day onwards, they (I am a fast learner!) came to be seen as the deity of intersexuality and hermaphroditism. They are also associated with marriage, symbolising the union of, traditionally but not necessarily, a man and a woman, two separate entities becoming one through the sacred bond of marriage. This is further emphasised by the fact that their parents were the deities supposed to protect and bless brides.

Moreover, back in my Greece, despite the fact that children were brought up respecting the gender norms and stereotypes, once adults, they were free to live the rest of their lives however they wanted to, which included a man renouncing his male status and instead adopting  a female identity or vice versa. It was quite a rare occurrence but not an impossible one. Fully transitioning was obviously impossible because Hippokrates had not yet developed the required surgery. Although I never met him, I found out about a Roman emperor, Elagabalus, who can be considered as one of the earlier transgender figures.

Elagabalus was married 5 times to women but never had a long-lasting marriage. His most stable liaison was with Hierocles, a blonde slave from Caria who was also a chariot driver. The emperor found delight in being called the mistress, wife or queen of Hierocles. He also preferred being called a lady instead of lord and would wear a lot of makeup and wigs. There are even tales of him offering large sums of money to physicians who could give him a vagina. There were even reports of him depilating his body and painting his eyes before prostituting himself in taverns, brothels and even his own palace. Whether that is true or not, I cannot tell. Just like Cleopatra after him, his enemies made it a priority to launch a smear campaign against him.

The next concept we will see is that of ‘sexual orientation’. This has to do with sexual erotic and/or emotional attractions, interests and orientation. Someone who identifies as male and is sexually and romantically attracted to men only would be gay. Lesbian is the same thing but refers to women who like other women. We also have other types of orientation such as bisexual, pansexual, demiromantic, skoliosexual, aromantic, asexual and so on just to name a few. Understanding about the LGBT community for your generation is fairly new. Even members of the community sometimes struggle to understand each other with gay and lesbians being intolerant towards bisexuals for example. LGBT people faced a lot of backlash back in the days and still do, though things are evolving with countries becoming more and more understanding and legalising same-sex marriage, adoption and enacting anti-discrimination rules.

Back in my Greece, it was common for older Athenian men to have younger lovers, even harems of them, in addition to their wife. The belief was for the older man to educate the younger one, give him shelter and help him become adult while having a more intimate relationship with the young man. Penetrative sex between two men in itself was not seen as degrading or something vile but the one taking the passive role was the one who was not necessarily shown respect. Thebes took advantage of gay love by creating an army troop which consisted of 150 gay couples as it was thought there would be no fiercer warrior than a man trying to protect his lover. While male homosexuality and sexuality was celebrated, lesbians were more invisible than others because at the time, it was thought the only way for people to have sex would be through penetrative sex, which led to female pleasure and homosexuality being eclipsed.

Luckily for me, being a mercenary and a descendant of the great Leonidas himself, I was able to break free from the glass ceiling and from the heteronormative expectations of society. And this also meant I was able to explore my sexuality to the fullest. I think that by today’s standards I would be what you call a ‘bisexual’ since I did have my fair share of encounters with members of both gender. One of the most memorable one was on the islands of Delos and Mykonos, the Silver Islands. There, I met Kyra and Thaletas. While helping Kyra to weaken the Athenian’s control, we did grow closer to each other in several ways…

As for Thaletas, almost all of his army got annihilated by the Athenians, leaving him broken. And pride is a Spartan’s strongest sentiment so repairing that was definitely worthy of Herakles himself. At the climax of the oncoming battle, our feelings took control and…

But those relationships never lasted and I was always on the move. That is, unless I met my soulmate Natakas who became the father of my child, Elpedios. 

But even then, my relationship with Natakas ended abruptly because of the ones calling themselves the ‘Hidden Ones’… I just hope my two loves are together are together. It’s only a matter of time before the Heir of memories comes and I can join them in Elysium.

[lady-wildflower]

Been a hell of a fucking while ain’t it?

Bet y’all thought this project was dead. No longer, it rises from the grave of laziness with a new plan.

Okay. So.

Old Story? Whack. The way it didn’t have an antagonist? Whack. The way I used shields? Whack. New story? It’s gonna be tight as fuck.

No, I have not finished the new storyline. Gotta stay on brand somehow. But!

Summary of what I have:

No more shields! Fuck shields, we’re going armour only and that’s the tea.

Ignore my egregious failure to use memes.

Story starts off fairly similarly, with Francis Morgan graduating the Acidalian Naval Academy. She makes friends in Jaime, and hates Thomas Jones, a stuck up cadet who thinks he’s the shit. Totally not a jab at the protagonist of the first long story I finished when I thought I was the shit.

The monarch of the theocratic nation Thetai (oh yeah by the way there are aliens and they’re cool goat people, except for these ones who are Asshole Goat People) dies and is replaced by his jackass of a son. Son goes all Hitler on them, starts persecuting humans. He’s alien space Hitler, don’t question it. And if anyone jumps on this post being a nazi apologist then they’re getting blocked because I ain’t about that bullshit. The nazis were evil. Full stop. Why does anyone think otherwise?

Don’t answer that.

Francis and Jaime get assigned to the A.S.V. Ross 248, a Ross class cruiser on patrol in the Groombridge 34 system, Francis is an engineer. Meanwhile, Francis has a couple of friends called Penelope and Naia. Naia is a Daerak, one of those goat people. Penelope is a human and is very proud of her vulgar space girlfriend. Space lesbians. Gonna use them more since I like them. They live on Meridian, the only planet in the Alpha/Proxima Centauri system, which is tidally locked and as such has like a ring of cities. Good fun. Biggest trade hub in Acidalia.

Oh yeah by the way Francis and Jaime are both girls. I realize they’re both pretty neutral names and it gets confusing.

Okay enough pleasant peace time, let’s get a war going. The Thetai invade, starting with Groombridge 34. Remember how that’s where the Ross 248 and our protagonist are? Yeah that ship? Forget that ship. It’s gone. Escape pod time.

Maybe a survival plot with orbital mechanics, I’m an absolute whore for orbital physics.

They get picked up by the A.S.V. Europa Prime, a little Colonial class destroyer. You know those big carriers, the ones everyone likes and are important for fleet management, Enterprise and Sun Tzu? Forget those ships. They’re gone. Only the Artemis left, baby.

Because Francis did well in the academy in the command course as well as engineering, the C.O. starts giving her some command stuff. Over time, she becomes the first mate of the Europa Prime.

New favourite plotline! The Thetai build a brand new warship. It’s a bastard. Big-ass battleship. Totally not based on the Bismarck. Totally not naming the plotline Sink the Bismarck. Once the proverbial Bismarck is sunk, the C.O. of the Europa Prime is promoted and Francis becomes the captain. Technically a Commander right now but ignore that.

Uncharted territory now, woohoo!

Maybe keep the Wolfpack plot (listen to Sabaton’s Wolfpack, it’s based on the same event I’m basing that on).

During that thing, Francis sacrifices the Europa Prime to save 7,000 people.

“We can’t take those hits!” “Will it save their lives?” “Yes.” “Then we can take the hits.”

Francis is given command of a Democracy class light cruiser, A.S.V. Athens. Meets back up with Jaime, who is a gunnery officer aboard.

Have Meridian fall under Thetai rule. Give the space lesbians a resistance plotline, because who doesn’t want to read about space lesbians beating up an occupying nazi force?

End up with Francis crashing the Athens on Mars to stop the Thetai from nuking Acidalia (oh yeah that’s the capital and also remember Earth? Forget Earth. Earth is gone).

End with Francis being given the brand new escort carrier A.S.V. Phobos to command. Thomas Jones is aboard as a fighter pilot but he’s cleaned up his act.

Random bullshit:

Francis goes through ships doesn’t she? Don’t worry, she doesn’t destroy the Phobos, she gets promoted to admiral and years later she’s Fleet Admiral.

After the war they build some better carriers because the Armstrong is a fucking stupid design I don’t know what I was thinking.

They also build some new small ships, Thomas Jones gets an Elysium class destroyer under Francis’ command from the Phobos. Aggressive little fucker of a ship, gets right up and fucks you up from point blank range.

Francis is asexual. Got it? Cool.

[fraisierluc]

Space Lesbians ??

“Chaos.” The girl beside me hummed in question. “What?” I blushed slightly, turning to face her on the soft blanket below us. “He was considered the primordial void to the Greeks, he created the universe and everything in it. The stars, planets, galaxies, Earth. The place we know that has the most life. Our thriving planet has oceans, seas, rivers, forests, woods, countries, and cities, and towns. Each and every corner of this world has something beautiful, something living. Yet so many people want to destroy these things, they want to rise to the top and rule the world, rule the universe even. But then what? What do you get out of that. In the myths, even Chaos, the creator couldn’t do it himself. He didn’t want to be at the top, working alone, with no one to help him, so he created others, who then themselves created more and it went on and on generation after generation-” She put her pointer finger on my mouth and giggled quietly, her eyes shining in the soft light of the moon. “Love, you’re rambling, and you’re adorable while doing it, but, weren’t you trying to say something?” I sheepishly nodded, laying back down and looking back up at the stars.

“Yeah, Chaos created an escape. The Greeks may have believed that there was Elysium or there were the Fields of Punishment. But I believe that Chaos gave us life and created only shells of everything else. When a life dies on this earth, our souls go to one of three places. The purest, happiest, and most kind souls fill the stars, sometimes, if they were a great hero, they create a star. The souls that weren’t evil, nor great, go to a planet, they fill planets and they fill the moons that go along with those planets. The souls that had the greatest darkness in them, and brought hell on everyone and everything, including themselves. They’re our space debris, they float through space having no place to go to, no place where they belong, no place they deserve. Then we come to black holes, the things in science fiction movies and tv shows that they just barely escape from, the things that stop time, and stretch you so you become as small and thin as a strand of hair, basically just micro sizing you and throwing you away. The black holes are for our space debris, they were essentially old companions. The people that helped you grow and prosper, but eventually tended to hold you down and make things worse, they held sentimental value but you needed to move on from them, so you threw them away to help free yourself and kind of… Clear your conscience.” I turned back to look at her and saw that she had inched closer to me when I was talking, and our bodies were inches apart.

My heart started pounding louder and louder as I looked down at her lips seeing a heart shaped outline, her mouth barely opened. “That sounds beautiful” she breathed out her agape mouth turning into a wide smile. She turned back up to face the night sky as I stayed in the same position, letting out a soft exhale, and whispering “less than you are of course” her bright blue eyes looked to where I was before looking back up at the sky. “Where do you think I would end up?” I sat up on my elbows to play with her soft hair (that she put in space buns of course), humming ‘i wanna be your girlfriend’. “You?” She hummed a response, her eyelids fluttering closed. “I think that you would end up creating a star.”

“Why would you say that? I’m not important enough to create a star, I thought that was only for heroes.” I paused to think for a second before returning to messing with her silky hair, an owl hooted in the distance behind us. “A great hero doesn’t have to save the world, a great hero could just be someone who cares enough about it to not give up on it, especially at this day and age. Maybe you think you aren’t a hero, or you’re not important enough but to me, you are.” She opened her eyes to look up at me and sat up. I lifted myself off of my elbows in disturbance assuming the same posture that she was in. “Do you really think that makes me a hero? Or is this just you being you?”

I looked at her startled by the question she asked. “It is me being me but I really do think you’re a hero. Do you think that low of yourself?” She looked down at her hands that were laying in her lap, “I know it’s dumb, but i’m not good enough, nobody loves me, and hell, if I died, I wouldn’t create a star, I would just rot in a coffin underground hoping I could even see the stars once again.” I frowned, before grabbing her hands and speaking to her. “It’s not dumb at all, a lot of people feel like they’re unloved, like they’re ugly, and unwanted. But the truth is, there is always someone who loves you, and you in particular, have a hell of a lot more than someone, so many people love you, and want to be you, they think you’re beautiful, and nice, and you care for people who wouldn’t think of giving anyone else the time of day because you see the good in them like most choose not too. You care for broken people, and for people that are close to breaking, point is, you care for a lot of people and it’s returned by many.”

I exhaled, slightly worn out. “And you?” My head snapped up to where she was looking into my eyes reading me for emotions. I closed my eyes for a second exhaling once again before opening them. “Me? I love you with all my heart. I’ve loved you since that day you waved to me in the halls, that one fateful morning when I was the new kid in 7th grade, where kids are most vulnerable and unsure of everything they do. That day that I saw the bright blue eyes and the pastel hair. That day. I loved you. And I still do. I love you Blue.”

My cheeks flushed as I closed my eyes and looked down, and I prepared for her to reject my confession. Instead I heard her move closer and her face inch up to mine as she put her arms around my neck and I lifted my head up. Our foreheads rested against each other as we stayed like this for a few moments before one of us closed the space…

Only to feel like we were in the open space. When we kissed, there were stars and planets floating around in our minds and our hearts. The butterflies people experience, were rockets soaring into the sky. It was like we were nearing a black hole, like time had stopped, we felt free, finally.

“I love you too.”

[tieflng]

chocobox 2020 letter under the cut, because i do things and participate in things now i think.

dear chocolatier: thanks for writing for me! my actual requests were sparse because they were. quite long. especially the pyre one, because it turns out i have a lot of thoughts about minor/historical background characters as seen in the book of rites. so my prompts are all here, along with the dnws just repeated for good measure. thanks for reading all of this, i hope you can find something to have fun with.

pyre -

oops!! all golathanian! i was just really drawn to him reading the book of rites; there's something about an ordinary (certainly flawed) human man making the choices that brought every event in the game to pass and turned him into a godlike eldritch basketball saint. also, 'you gave your freedom that i might yet have mine' is a line i've been thinking about for an entire year. also, the g in lgbt is for golathanian. i'm really into the idea that the man the commonwealth could lionize as the ideal of strength is admirable not as a conqueror or warlord, but as someone with commitments to others that make him overcome his flaws-- someone who does the cooking for the group and makes dry comments and lectures out of worry and has a stupid laugh and acts like a grouch when he is secretly a giant softy. (and someone who is visibly gay and gnc, because the base of my mazlow hierarchy of needs is gay/bi men presented as admirable figures of authority, and i think that's something that should have been in the game, even if the commonwealth in-universe was going to erase it.) the heart and idealism and earnestness is what makes him worthy of respect, and that he's human, even if technically he ends up as a demigod sports-omen star.

i'm firmly in favor of autistic scribes (solidarity with chae) and scribes as large-r Readers. aside from soliam and khaylmer who both have cis energy i'm very up for any of the requested characters as trans or nonbinary, and near and dear to my heart especially are transfem chae and triesta and a nonbinary/my-gender-is-just-gay gol. explicit lgbt identities in general are a plus. environmental details-- i adore the richness and mystery and wonder of the downside, but i'd also kill for some sahrian imperial court ambiance. adventure is good, character study is always good, shenanigans and mischievous escapades between friends, misunderstandings that work out or not, angst with comfort is fine, moral or philosophical dilemmas or conversations (perfect for this group). it'd be nice to see something about titans, about (r/R)eading, the downside as an eldritch landscape, the simultaneous decay and might of imperial sahr, about turning into celestial bodies, a good old fashioned slow burn/mutual pining.

ha'ub & gol - i've always imagined these two are best friends - the first two scribes, 2/3 of the og triumvirate, and both dealing with the fact that 'mercy' means they have to keep soliam murr's fool ass alive. ha'ub is a chaotic little bumpkin who's never belonged anywhere, gol is an increasingly long-suffering visitor to purgatory dimension-- i feel like for all that he knows more about survival here than his new Big Friends, ha'ub feels just as indebted to them for being able to relate to him. it can't be easy being the first imp with human-like intelligence, or at least surely the only imp you know. misunderstandings between different species, teaching each other about sahrian human and downside imp customs, teaming up against howlers (did the howler/imp distinction exist yet, if all imps were wild and drive imps didn't exist??), learning to communicate with someone whose speech and language are very different. gol standing up for ha'ub in the 'why does an imp get a triumvirate' debate. why is ha'ub accursed? too, if there's gol/soliam, there's an opportunity for 'just kiss him already', or whatever misunderstandings imps have about human relationships/will-they-or-won't-they tensions.

gol & chae - please call the vagabond girl chae! i loved her basically at the moment i saw her and her arc means a lot to me. she’s autistic coded but her belief in the scribes-- in actually hearing and speaking to the scribes-- is never undercut by the narrative. and she’s immensely strong! she’s survived in the downside by herself from 17-19! and imo at least the scribe known for being strong and resilient and untiring, not to mention idealistic and loyal, would admire the absolute fuck out of her. i’d like her childhood as moontouched/homeless and displaced, her topside ending as a religious leader and inspiration in the sahrian union, wandering alone in the downside, her role with the nightwings-- i just really want to see what conversations these two would get up to, i want them to learn from each other, i want chae to have support and encouragement and comfort from everyone’s favorite nomad scribe. what does she ask him? what does he tell her? passing messages from ti’zo or the heralds? looking for advice/help on behalf of the nightwings, or just comfort when she’s feeling out of place? god, the fact that she’s in the companion class that parallels khaylmer-- do they talk about that, or how does gol feel? there are so many damn good interactions here. please don’t infantilize her or portray her beliefs and reactions as nonsensical or weird.

gol/soliam - i have so many thoughts about these two that i almost don’t want to say everything. my sense is they didn’t get together until the downside, with a very long enemies > grudging allies > friends > lovers, at least on gol’s end. you don’t jump over the edge of the world to kill someone and immediately kiss and make up. topside before he gets disillusioned there’s potential for that good courtly love - gol pining hopelessly (and perhaps obliviously, depending on how soliam acts towards him) for his beautiful distant liege, sol who so very clearly did not feel anything genuine for anyone as emperor, but who maybe has some ‘oooh, master-general ;)’ poking out of the hedonism-flavored depression. and then he falls down the river and realizes he was a big idiot. i could do very early sweet moments, courtly aesthetic and accidental intimacy, seeing a tender side to the emperor that most people never get close enough for/soliam murr Almost having a real feeling other than physical attraction. i could also do rebuilding their trust and rapport in the downside, mutual pining, growing closer despite everything and wondering privately if they couldn’t actually work out. or established relationship tenderness and fluff. i could also very much do explicit content with these two.

gol & khaylmer - ahh, yes. enemies. i got the impression from gol’s account (and gol’s account is really all we get) that these two hated each other, to ‘put his picture on the bull’s eye of the dartboard’ levels of hatred-- but also, maybe, that they had more in common than they wanted. gol and khaylmer as the only two grownups in a decadence-obsessed imperial court? certainly as the closest advisers to the emperor, whatever that means when your emperor is soliam murr. i always got the impression that gol was a bit more of a bastard than he let on-- nomad masteries are very ‘now i’ve thrown him off his rhythm!’ and you can’t tell me ‘preferred to fall on his enemies by surprise under the cover of darkness’ Isn’t the trait of a highly slippery character. then again, their worldviews and beliefs might as well be from two different planets, but then again again, do we really get an unbiased opinion on khaylmer to know what his worldviews really is? two driven and idiosyncratic people, more similar than they think, who just deeply hate and misunderstand each other at a fundamental level. also, please a deep dive into khaylmer’s head. lot of opportunity for backroom dealing and court drama here.

scribes & scribes - scribe adventures! or scribe shenanigans and arguments! i see these eight as having strong and contrasting personalities, but fundamentally caring about each other, even if they can get into real drama and conflict. fighting titans, exploring together, writing the book of rites, becoming eldritch basketball gods. found family is great, early stages of found family that grouchily insist they're business associates is better. there is so much you could do with these losers as a collective and i love them with my entire heart.

dnw: fantasy homophobia or transphobia, dubcon/noncon including under the influence, hand/eye trauma, unsanitary things, angst without a positive/hopeful resolution. in terms of explicit content, please no humiliation or impact play/physical pain. fandom specific: don't undercut chae's feelings or beliefs or write her in an ableist way. i also see gol and soliam as gay, and milithe and triesta as lesbians, so i'd prefer no references to past/current m/w relationships for them-- not because having m/w history invalidates gay peoples' identities, but because for me personally that'd be a horrible experience and it makes me sad thinking about my favorite characters going through that.

hades -

i did not expect to like a large soft-spoken honor-bound minotaur who duels you in honorable combat as much as i did, but probably should have knowing basic facts about myself. anything asterius-focused is great-- i really want to see him well-received in elysium and with a partner who cares about him......! he deserves nice things! elysium as a setting is so lush, environmental details, moments of respite, greenery, the river lethe, the elysian stadium, the beauty of eternal paradise And the fact that the people who live here decide to just beat the tar out of each other for fun.

this game has a really strong cast, and i'd love to see mentioned or featured olympians/house denizens/run npcs other than the requested characters. patroclus is a strong possibility for a fic in elysium, but achilles, hypnos, hermes/artemis/athena, and eurydice are also favorites of mine. i'm always down for explicit gay/bi identities, and i've been toying with trans masc zag and/or nonbinary aster.

Asterius/Zag - the inherent romantic tension of having a standing date to fight someone in hand to hand combat. but also, meeting outside of the arena in some way - a peaceful moment in a fountain chamber? maybe aster helps zag in a tough spot with some exalted? they both meet up in patroclus's chamber? i like how aster respects you for your strength and ability and the comparison he draws between them both as having been born monstrous/in darkness could use some (gentle) exploration. both of them uncovering hidden depths or softness in each other.

Asterius/Theseus/Zag - the inherent romantic tension of having a standing date to fight two people in hand to hand combat. i very much see this as an aster-centric v-- i don't really buy these or zag being into each other on their own, but learning to get along for the sake of their mutual boyfriend is good, and the comedy that ensues. anything i like in aster/zag or aster/these would be good here. absolutely not opposed to an aster-centered threesome (he deserves it).

Asterius/Theseus - how did these persuade hades to move the bull of minos to elysium? how did they become champions in the stadium? fighting by each others' sides, aster discovering after a mortal lifetime confined to a labyrinth that he's into men, these feeling weirdly compelled to show off or impress him. theseus training him in 'heroic ways'. theseus's lines about ariadne felt needlessly gross/borderline misogynistic and i'd like for them either to not come up Or for aster to sit him down and give him a piece of his mind. that's his sister, you idiot.

Cerberus & Zag - just a boy and his dog! cerby comforting a younger zag when hades is on his bullshit, or kid zag sleeping all cuddled up with his pubby. growing up and watching the house change. zag venting to cerberus or asking for advice, like you do with your pets when you don't expect an answer (and maybe getting one??). something in styx would be good, or zag finding any other kind of treat or toy and smuggling it back in from one of his runs.

dnw: fantasy homophobia or transphobia, dubcon/noncon including under the influence, hand/eye trauma, unsanitary things (please light on the descriptions of the satyr sack, lmao), angst without a positive/hopeful resolution. in terms of explicit content, please no humiliation or impact play/physical pain. as far as fandom specific: please nothing that portrays hades as good or justified in any of his actions. nothing zag/meg or zag/than; i really prefer zag and meg to have acknowledged their feelings and decided to stay friends.

arthuriana/let’s be real i’m here for the gawain and the green knight - 

......i'm just in this for the inherent homoeroticism. explicitly gay/bi gawain and bi bertilak is great, bertilak and his wife both being in on it is great, threesome? more christmas games? courtly flirting? being cozy inside? going on a dangerous quest? anything sounds great, just have fun with it!

dnw: homophobia including period-typical (just not why i read fanfiction), dubcon/noncon including under the influence, unsanitary things, hand/eye trauma, cheating/negative feelings between the hautdeserts, angst. in terms of explicit content, please no humiliation or impact play/physical pain.