#i.e carving

[windswept-stables]

traditional scale pack saddle wip. gotta add the “nails” yet

[incendiorum]

celaena, io's mother, was motivated a lot by greed. she wasn't powerful, so she wanted a powerful child, and because of that sought out venadeus viii and begged him for such. she was, also, entirely aware of the entire deal with the venadeus line. her plan was to always keep io under her thumb, and to have a god chained to her in the future. that, of course, backfired. and I dare to say it never really would have worked. io was always far too inclined to natural opposition. but... she was aware of everything that io was and never told them. the information she gave them was always carefully clipped to maintain her control. and by extension, so was her husband's, although he was never entirely pleased with io's existence at all.

[elodieunderglass]

Horror isekai where Perceiving the Weird Eldritch Thing gets you catapulted into a nightmare labyrinth of puzzle-solving.

I.e Those Who Perceive The Hunt of the Goblin King Must Partake In The Labyrinth and Can Only Be Freed If They Complete It In One Day and One Night. By Fae Law. For Reasons.

But the definition of “perception” clearly needs to be updated because some normal guy simply films the Hunt of the Goblin King Behind Arby’s, and puts it on Facebook -

No, not instagram or TikTok, it’s important that it be Facebook -

Because the rules are pretty clear, “the rules are the rules” as is carved ominously in elvish runes above the grim gate, and the Contract is Sealed. and so therefore the guy and 25 of their most random real-life acquaintances must run the gauntlet together. It’s Some Guy, their immediate neighbors, their first partner’s mom, their friends from hobby Facebook groups (oh this poor guy and their hobbies; the elderly birdwatchers from Facebook and the young up-and-coming drag king community), their random teen kid niece, college friends, a dog who also watched the video, a couple consisting of a woman who is the guy’s Facebook friend and showed her husband the video, and the husband doesn’t even know Some Guy, so he’s in the labyrinth and absolutely furious about being forced to be involved, and they proceed to break up over the course of the puzzle.

It’s important that the narrative keeps trying to be a sexy dark horror isekai! but within this the comedic reality of Catherine, 52, the guy’s horse-riding instructor, being passionately involved in escape-room-style puzzle solving and grappling with minor goblins. They are in fact speedrunning the gauntlet.

The Goblin King finally has to say: all right, actually, I only really set all this up to fuck with one (1) guy at a time, thanks for your willingness to participate, but I think all 25 of you can consider the gauntlet fully run.

And the group would be quite hurt by that. The rules are the rules. We have a contract, actually. Let Catherine cook.

[dduane]

...This concept started as a joke, but I'm thinking that I've finally found the story behind it. Maybe I can write it now... :)

ETA: Added a link to a higher-definition version of the cover image without text. (And I can see I'm still not done fiddling with the materials on his damn shirt. In fact, the shirt itself is in question now. [muttering] Never mind. Can't make a judgment call on this when I haven't even had my tea yet...)

ETA 2: No, not this shirt either. (I mean, dammit, I like looking at pecs as much as the next lass or lad, but the cut on this shirt isn't right for this angle of light, or for the way it drapes when animated. Dammitall, why do all Daz's men's shirts have to be so crap?)

(from an earlier rant on this subject:) (re: @rembrandtswife​‘s comment [”Find that man a GOOD shirt, because his CHEST deserves it.”]: well, not arguing…

…But finding a decent shirt at all on Daz is the challenge. Some of the ones that seem like they might have possibilities are just frustrating, because they either aren’t dForce enabled (that being the draping and animation engine) or they’re just badly made.

The one below would be typical. (“’What, do you call this a sleeve? It is like a demi-cannon, carved up and down like an apple tart.’”)

(…sigh) There's too much else going on today to go any further down this train of thought. But most of the shirts that fit at all acceptably are very idiomatic (i.e. obviously “pirate shirts” or whatever…). It just makes my head hurt. :/

[archangeldyke-all]

merry chrtismas angel !!!<3

idk if your taking requests today but anything with sevika and reader who celebrate Christmas with isha and jinx and everything is happy and jolly and everyone is alive and well

-💌

merry christmas to all my readers who celebrate!! and if you don't: i hope whatever holiday you partake in is festive and fun and EASY this year (i.e. no family drama ahahhaahha)

men and minors dni

"we might've overdone it..." you consider as you examine the literal mountain of wrapped gifts shoved under your tree. sevika giggles.

"it's their first christmas with us. half of this shit is just stuff for their room." sevika reminds you.

"it's gonna take them all day to get through this stuff."

sevika laughs. "just means we get a day free from having to entertain them."

you laugh and lean against your wife, both of you smiling at the christmas tree. the girls spent the entire evening dressing it up. you're going to be vacuuming glitter out of the carpet for years to come, but it's all worth it for the happy laughs that came from isha and jinx as they covered the tree in tassels and handmade ornaments and garlands.

you and sevika shuffle to bed a few minutes later, exchanging sleepy, happy kisses in each other's arms before falling asleep.

you wake up to squealing.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!!"

"wha? wha's happening?" sevika asks as she shoots up in bed beside you.

your bedroom door slams open and isha and jinx both come tumbling in, sprinting up on your bed.

"YOU GOT US SO MANY FUCKING PRESENTS!!" jinx screams as she jumps on your bed. you giggle.

"AAAAAAAAHHH!!" isha squeals, tackling you and sevika back down onto the mattress to wrap you up in a big hug. your heart bursts.

"the sun's not even up yet." sevika whines. you can hear the smile in her voice yet.

"too bad, old lady! get up! it's christmas time!"

you spend the morning making pancakes and watching isha and jinx tear into their presents. sevika hangs off your hips, her chin hooked over your shoulder, a kiss pressed to your throat intermittently.

jinx cries when she opens her customized tool kit-- the handles hand made by a local artisan-- purple and blue swirled together with her name carved in all the tools' handles.

isha stands in pure shock for a full minute when she unwraps her own bike-- all decked out with a basket and pink and blue tassels in the handles. then, she hops on, and rides the bike directly into the christmas tree.

by mid-afternoon, the girls have passed out in a pile of pajama-clad limbs in front of the fire place, exhausted after all the excitement from the morning.

"i'd call that a success." sevika mutters, cheersing her spiked hot coco against yours.

you giggle. "merry christmas, love. you'll be getting your present from me a little later tonight." you tease. sevika laughs.

"what a coincidence. that's when i was gonna give you your present too."

"ugh, you guys are disgusting." jinx mumbles from the floor. you snort and throw a crumbled up ball of wrapping paper at her head. she flips you off, then sighs. "here." she says, reaching out for something under a pile of wrapping paper.

sevika takes it from her hands, a small box wrapped in construction paper; doodles from both isha and jinx decorating it.

sevika carefully unwraps it, refusing to tear the special paper.

tears well up in your eyes the moment sevika pulls out the bedazzled picture frame-- the photo inside taken a few months ago-- all four of you dressed up and smiling bright at the camera.

the treasures and sparkles decorating the frame are clearly all collected by isha-- bottle caps and marbles and anything else shiny she's been able to find.

sevika turns the frame over, and she lets out a choked sob as you both read the note on the back.

none of us expected that this is what our family would be, but now that it's here i wouldn't trade it for the world. thank you. jinx. and isha

isha wakes up with a groan when you and sevika dive off the couch and on top of your girls on the carpet, cuddling them all into your arms as you cry.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel

[ad-caelestia]

✖ spell & curse breaking ✖

methods for negating spells you have cast:

destroy the physical representation of the spell i.e. if your spell was contained within a jar, break the jar and dispose of the pieces

disassemble the spell and cleanse each component individually

place item in a bath of sea salt and dried herbs that are associated with cleansing and banishing - leave overnight and disassemble the spell when finished

cleanse the item with moon or rain water and disassemble if applicable

place the item in a black box to negate its effects

bury the item for 3 days, retrieve it, then dispose of it

bury the item on the night of the full moon and retrieve it at the next new moon

create a sigil or written incantation with the intent of breaking the spell and place the item on top of the paper - leave in place overnight

create a written incantation that includes the details of the spell - bury, burn, drown, rip apart, or throw it away

light a black candle that is surrounded by sea salt while focusing on the intent of negating the spell - recite an incantation if you wish, and allow the candle to burn down; sweep the sea salt out your back door

breaking spells others have cast upon you and protecting yourself:

perform a “return to sender” spell - find a black taper candle; turn it upside down; cut the tip off and leave the wick in place; carve “return to sender” and the target’s name (or a description of them) into the candle; light the candle upside down and let it burn down completely

leave a witch bottle outside of your home - it should contain items like: pins, needles, broken glass (to shred their negative intentions towards you); your name and the names of those who may be affected by this negative energy plus an incantation for protection (e.g. your loved ones, pets, anyone who lives in your home); and lemon juice, lime juice, or sea salt (to purify their negative energy so that it may not get to you)

create a mixture of charcoal, chili powder, and garlic powder - sprinkle around the perimeter of your home to stop a spell in its tracks

alternately, you may combine these ingredients, add to a hollow pendant, and wear on your person to protect you from the effects of a spell

if you know the details of the spell that has been placed on you, write them down on paper; while focusing on breaking the spell, hold the paper in your hand, and then rip it to shreds; throw the pieces in the trash, or bury in your backyard

if you don’t know the exact details, write down the effects you have been feeling if you think they have been caused by a spell or malintent directed at you; follow the steps above

submerge yourself in a bath of sea salt and light frankincense incense - place the incense on the edge of the tub or somewhere safe in your bathroom - to cleanse yourself of any negative energy that has been directed at you

place an energetic shield over yourself or your home that is designed to negate negative energy

tips: 

close all loopholes

when crafting a spell, remember to create a fail safe (e.g. “this spell will be broken if X occurs”)

add timed conditions to your spells (e.g. “this spell will be broken on the night of the next full moon” and include a specific date)

be specific when describing the target that will be affected by the spell (whether it’s you or someone else, be sure to include taglocks whether it be their name written or spoken aloud, DNA such as hair, fingernail clippings, etc., or a photo of the target)

use ingredients, supplies, and tools that match your intent

employ a method of protection before casting spells, whether the intent is malefic or not

cleanse your space and tools before and after performing a spell to “wipe the slate clean”

herbs:

ague, angelica, asafoetida, bamboo, basil, bay leaf, benzoin, boneset, brimstone (sulfur powder), burdock, chili pepper, cinquefoil, comfrey, datura, frankincense, galangal, garlic, geranium, holy thistle, huckleberry, hydrangea, iris root (orris root), lemon verbena (vervain), lilac, lily, lucky hand (orchid root), mimosa, myrrh, nutmeg, oak moss, onion, oregano, papaya, patchouli, peony, pokeroot, prickly ash bark, rue, safflower, solomon’s seal, st. john’s wort, stinging nettle, squill, thistle, toadflax, turmeric, vetiver, willow, wintergreen, witches grass (dog grass), wormwood (absinthe), yarrow flower, yew, yucca

crystals:

agate, amber, amethyst, ametrine, black tourmaline, bloodstone, carnelian, celestite, chrysocolla, citrine, emerald, epidote, fire opal, fluorite, garnet, halite, hematite, howlite, jet, kunzite, labradorite, malachite, natrolite, obsidian, ocean jasper, onyx, selenite, silver, smoky quartz, sugilite, sunstone, turquoise

lunar phases: 

waning moon

new moon / dark moon

planets:

saturn

pluto

© 2025 ad-caelestia

[ennn]

Agatha x Rio Fic Rec Master List

Everyone has their own fic preferences. My personal recommended picks here, AUs included, that generally check off these boxes:

Balanced power dynamic i.e. no sugar baby fantasies here, no dependencies, they give as good as they get

Some plot i.e. no pure smut fics here, though some have them bangin' quite a bit

Characterisation i.e. ideally cunt4cunt freak4freak, although some AUs have them a lot softer than canon but I can roll with it if the power dynamic holds

Last updated: 13 Mar '25.

Now, in no order of merit:

Go enjoy all their works, they've written a bunch of stuff. Here are just highlights:

@thiswildernessismyhome

allow my love to find her brutal way to me

[ 9k words | one-shot ] An angsty time loop fic that gets these characters so right and will punch you right in the feels. Maybe more than once.

memory that presses like a blade against her throat

[ 4.3k words | one-shot ] Pain and sweet pathos with spot-on banter. Explores Agatha’s trauma from her mom. Rio gets protective, cute, and vengeful.

yeahitshowed

real hot ghoul shit

[ 15.4k words | multi-chapter | series ] Set post-AAA. It's wacky, it's angsty, it's great. Agatha and Rio attempt to work out their shit. Billy is trying his best. Now with a whole ghoulniverse of sequels.

sometimes i still feel the bruise

[ 3.2k words | one-shot ] Agatha is not taking her first Pride very well. It’s all the trauma. A fantastic exploration of the character with all her edges and soft underbelly.

@paddingtonfan69

now I understand, and it’s time to leave the woods

[ 15.9k words | multi-chapter | series ] One of the best backstory fic for these two that absolutely nails their dynamic. Angsty and silly and horny as you'd expect with these two.

someday we will all be lying on our backs (free at last from income tax) 

[ 13.1k words | multi-chapter | series ] The gold standard for fandom AUs. The bad boy of the IRS meets infamous tax evader Agatha Harkness.

@alilbitgaywrites

you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me

[ 4.4k words | first of a series ] Death has a cabin in Delaware. The first of a relatively chill (for them) canon-divergent series where these two clash, banter, and begin to heal.

you'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you

[ 32k words | multi-chapter ] Expands upon canon (so expect glorious angst) and maybe fixes it a little. Agatha and Rio through the years and into the show.

Naturally if you like a fic, check out the author's other works

because i could not stop for death (she kindly stopped for me) – by @she-s-a-shy-one

[ 70k words | multi-chapter | series ] The historical epic fic. Takes on Agathario's messed up backstory through many different eras and disasters. Hope you like history! Oof, that's a lot of collateral damage, Agatha.

A Graveyard Hated by the Moon – by @viceroy-bubblesmutini

[ 5.5k words | first of a series ] Can't get enough murderous historical escapades with these two? Here's more of this terrible pair causing problems.

blood, sweat & tears – by clarkestrife

[ 20.1k words | multi-chapter | wip ] They meet for the first time after Nicky's death. Let's just say Agatha doesn't deal with it well and has a mean left hook. Heavy on the hurt and angst.

wicked thing, carved into my heart – by @coffeeshib

[ 23.9k words | 2 chapters ] Post canon, the exes fight and fuck. It's sexy, violent, mean and angsty. It's very on-point characterisation, what can I say.

A Wretched Soul – by @motherconfessors

[ 31k words | multi-chapter | wip ] Ep 8 divergent. Agatha makes a new deal with Rio so she can get her purple back. A story of grief, healing, a lot of sex and... amazing food?

All and then Most of you, Some and now None of you – by @momentary-ecstasy

[ 34.5k words | multi-chapter ] Post-canon. Agatha succeeds at taking Death's powers. Rio wakes up with no memories. Captivating plot, lots of death, sex with strings attached, and a coven reunited. It's never simple with these two.

For You To Be Still – by @momentary-ecstasy

[ 27.4k words | multi-chapter ] To save Rio from the Snap's fallout, Agatha binds them together. A plotty, fascinating adventure also featuring the coven and the two dealing with their past.

coven of chaos – by @trickofthelights

[ 38.4k words | multi-chapter | wip ] Rio/Agatha/Wanda and their very weird found family. Crack taken seriously and written exquisitely well with thoughtful character explorations. It's fun and epic with great banter. Everyone lives!

you’ll sanctify me when i’m dead  – by @majorlysapphic

[ 26.3k words | multi-chapter | wip ] Rio has Hanahaki Disease and has to work with Agatha while hiding her plan to retire permanently. These two idiots, etc.

a hundred miles through the desert repenting – by @sapphoshands

[ 3.9k words | one-shot ] Perhaps my favourite ep 5 fix-it. Pain and pathos lovingly written.

Rabbit Heart – by @sapphoshands

[ 4.8k words | multi-chapter ] Post-finale scenes featuring our favourite Señor Scratchy, including a satisfying follow-up for our ship.

how the dead walk – by obsetress

[ 7.2k words | one-shot ] Post canon, these two talk and work out the logistics (and emotions) behind ghost sex.

meet you where the spirit meets the bones – by daniandjamie

[ 13.5k words | multi-chapter ] I know turbo virgin!Rio isn't for everyone. But if you enjoy it, this one's real cute and funny and an interesting take on how Death gets a body.

better in the dark – by @seabiscuits-us

[ 12.8k words | one-shot ] More turbo virgin!Rio trying to figure this shit out while Agatha enjoys the process. It's cute times before the inevitable heartbreak.

For the Love of Spring – by FleetingFriend

[ 10k words | one shot ] Post-AAA story. Rio turns into an onion, Agatha takes the opportunity to remember and grieve and heal. Maybe grab those tissues for the end.

As with many AUs, expect softer takes for these two unless the fic has y'know, killing and violence. Again, in no order:

Put Your Fangs In Me – by villhag

[ 73.9k words | multi-chapter | series | wip ] The other gold standard in AUs. Two vampire best friends with a lot of history are more than what they seem. What starts off like a rom com with casual murder reveals itself to be a heartbreaking love story spanning centuries.

honey come put your lips on mine (and shut me up) – by tinyteamug

[ 40.4k words | multi-chapter | wip ] Retired hockey pro-turned-publicist Agatha is tasked with managing feral hotshot hockey player Rio. A hilarious time with these two driving each other nuts in the best way.

primal night – by Palmarion

[ 13.2k words | multi-chapter ] Rio is another version of Death, Agatha is human and they meet one Halloween night at Rio’s bar. Nicky happens unexpectedly. A comforting romantic story.

all my might – by goofball46

[ 15.6k words | multi-chapter | wip ] After breaking up 10 years ago, the two have to pretend to be a couple (again) to help Agatha's political campaign. We do love our angst and unresolved drama. They're so bad at communicating.

To Hate Her is to Love Her – by @justasimplelesbiansfanfic

[ 166k words | multi-chapter | series ] Agatha gets her estranged wife Rio to pretend they’re still together for the holidays. A long, angsty slow burn with plot involving crime and the FBI, and these two figuring their issues out.

spite, grudges, and other underrated methods of processing your feelings – by @littledata

[ 10k words | one-shot ] If working for her ex (who sent her to jail) wasn’t enough, Rio’s been hired to kill her. All's fair in politics? It’s a fun ride.

How to not keep a secret – by disaster_top

[ 102k words | multi-chapter ] See I can recommend domestic Agathario playing house with Nicky. Rio loves her knives. A series of interconnected one-shots where they deal with different stuff. FBI Agent Rio and Detective Agatha (not Agnes).

queens of killing (we're out for blood) – by @succulentlesbians

[ 64.9k words | multi-chapter | wip ] Winter Soldier/Red Room AU. Plotty, dramatic, secret agent action. Plenty of angst when one was programmed to kill their own kid. Plus, coven team-bonding.

all half things – by @seabiscuits-us

[ 20.2k words | multi-chapter ] High school soccer coach Rio tries her best to make sure her super-pregnant teacher colleague Agatha doesn't go into labour while they try to save the school theatre department. It's charming and quirky with a side of drama.

this machine's a backward thinker – by @slowedshow

[ 35.7k words | multi-chapter | wip ] Lawyer Agatha, Doctor Rio AU. When Agatha decides to help her deceased client's son find his lost brother she didn't expect to find her way back to love and forgiveness. Brilliant parallels within this story and the show canon punched me hard in the feels.

my safeword is safeword – by @anonfandombandit

[ 63.3k words | multi-chapter | wip ] The uh BDSM AU. It's wild, it's hilarious, it's uh very educational if you're unfamiliar with the scene? Agatha's insane and working off some bad trauma, Rio's desperately trying her best to remain professional. Naturally lots of kinky sex.

· · ────────── 𖥸 ────────── · ·

♥ to the fabulous authors giving us these stories

[themeraldee]

Sweet Valentine

[Masterlist]

| 3.8k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Fluff. Some silly banter. And a whole lot of kissing and cuddling. Homelander is still Homelander (i.e. thoughts of murder occur on a daily basis, though not aimed at reader). Teeny tiny bit of Homelander trying to get frisky ('trying to' being the keyword here)

Summary: After a week of being spoiled with gifts leading up to Valentine's, you treat Homelander to a surprise of your own.

Author’s Note: This was meant to be done for Valentine's but hey at least it's still (barely) February!

Written for @discowizard88 for this request🩷

That’s just his rotten fucking luck. 

Marketing thought it would be a good idea to book his entire week full of appearances, shows, interviews and commercial shoots because they didn’t think he had anything better to do. Fucking imbeciles. He has you now.

He’s been looking forward to this day for months. Throughout your first year together Homelander’s been counting down all the occasions, events and celebrations that he’s not really had a chance to cherish before. Maeve was never the type to accept his grand, downright scripted, romantic gestures. Their last celebrated Valentine’s she all but laughed in his face when he brought her roses. Needless to say, they’ve not celebrated any consequent Valentine’s from that year on out. 

But you’re different. You appreciate it, you appreciate him. You turn downright giddy anytime he showers you with gifts and love. He was more than ready to smother you in love on this day. It’s a day for lovers, after all, what good would it be if he wasted that opportunity.

He planned it all out. Valentine’s day was gonna be big. As if you could expect anything less from him. And while the gifts kept coming, so did the TV appearances and commercial shoots.

It took one blink for the entire week to be pretty much over without him getting to participate in many of the activities he had planned. 

Homelander hasn’t felt this frustrated in a while. While he tried his best to move the schedule around, Madelyn was adamant about the importance these event had on his image and he couldn’t do much but grit his teeth and comply lest he upset her. But why doesn’t she see how important this is to him? Isn’t it obvious? 

He feels his eyes twitch. His smile becomes tighter, strained. Easily turning from his TV smile to the threatening grimace it truly is. These fucking photoshoots are beneath him. As if he doesn't have anything better to do than to stand here for hours until they've taken thousands of photos of him.

His irritation rises with each click of the camera, each flash blinding his eyes. He barely notices the way his eyes subtly heat up over the sound of ringing his ears. He's seconds away from blasting a hole straight through the camera lens and the photographer's brain. The urge to let go is strong, so strong in fact he can already imagine the bitter scent of burning wafting through the air.

Only thing that takes him out of his irritation is a subtle vibration against his leg signaling a new message. He instantly knows it's from you, nobody else gets texting privileges. Heat blooms in his chest. Just the thought of your attention brings back a genuine smile. 

He graces the crew with a smile that really is meant for you.

“Sorry folks, I gotta take five.” His lips are stretched into that awkward thin-lipped smile and he puts his hands up in a faux-apologetic gesture. He steps off the backdrop to the side, already fishing out his phone from the hidden pocket he had the costume department sew in. They carved out a space in the fake musculature of the suit so it fit right in without leaving an awkward rectangular outline in what's meant to be a skin tight suit. 

He unlocks his phone, greeted with the sickly sweet photo of the two of you. Sometimes this joy feels like his little secret. A vindictive joy against the odds. 

Come to the cabin when you're free. I've got a surprise for you ❤️

Even a simple message from you causes the weight on his chest to drop, dissolving his anger immediately. 

Aren't you a saint? Unknowingly you've just saved the entire studio. And they don't even know how grateful they should be that he has you. 

And with a promise like that he can't really stand to have one more photo taken. He slips his phone back into his pocket, turning around with a swish of his cape.

“Whoopsie-daisy, gonna have to cut this short, the city calls for my help. You know how it is, the criminals just looove to push their luck. Anyway, you got enough right? Yeah? yeah I thought so." He makes some broad gestures with a solidifying thumbs-up as if he was committing to a deal and salutes with a, "Alright. Laters.” He talks fast enough to shut any critical comments down before they even have a chance to spill from their worthless mouths.

With a quick glance to the corner of the room where Ashley is already standing anxiously arrow-straight, he doesn’t need to say anything to know that she will fight and bargain to save the situation to the best of her meagre abilities. However the fuck she does is not his problem, not like he needs to explain himself.

He doesn't wait to see the other people’s reactions, already eager to lose the watchful eyes of the crew and the camera lens. He downright stomps his way out of the studio and at the first glimpse of the bright blue sky he takes off, kicking off the ground with an obnoxious boom that rattles the foundations of nearby buildings.

He’s giddy with excitement. As he rips through the clouds, the wind pulling his hair back, slashing through the gelled cast, he can’t take that smile off his face. The adrenaline-like rush he feels in his gut over your surprise is new. It’s exciting! He doesn’t remember the last time somebody treated him to an honest-to-god surprise. A proper one at least. None of the slimy corporate schmoozing.

He reaches the location in record speed, just under seven minutes—though it still feels like forever. But the excitement clouds his vision and suddenly he’s barrelling down the atmosphere, seconds away from performing one of his ostentatious landings and exploding the ground around him. He catches himself last second, putting his heel first as an emergency break.

His landing is clumsy. He staggers as soon as his foot hits the ground, kicking up the leaves around him into the air. He regains his balance at the last tremble of his foot, sparing himself the embarrassment of a failed landing—one he hasn’t experienced since the lab days.

God, now look at his pathetic simpering self.

Literally falling head over heels because you blew your whistle. Like a needy puppy he races to you, zipping through all obstacles, unwilling to lose a single second of the allocated time he gets to spend with you.

The sweetheart you are, you’d probably praise him for it anyway and kiss his boo-boo away. That thought alone makes him rethink the fall. Not that he can actually get scraped by a measly rough landing. Though, maybe the extra attention is worth the damage it would do to his ego. 

“Woaaah, you okay?” Before he’s had a chance to look around and lock his eyes on you, you’re in his field of vision by your own doing. Quick footsteps, muffled by the leaves covering the ground become louder and louder until you’ve got your arms wrapped around one of his, helping him up. As if he actually needed it. He’s so charmed by the way you treat him as if he were fine china.

You give an awkward little chuckle. “Don’t want you getting hurt because of me.” 

Overcome with surging emotions, Homelander pulls you closer, both of his hands cupping your cheeks as he gives you a big sappy kiss. It’s as much a hello as it is a I love you with all my heart. 

Now that his heart is satisfied, for the time being at least, he lets you go. Immediately tempted to dive in for more after he sees your flustered face, all giddy twitches to the corners of your lips as you look everywhere but him. Almost embarrassed that somebody might see you two kiss so passionately.

Yeah, he can’t let you go without more. He pulls you in again, and this time his kisses are silly. Loud with a wet mwah each time he presses a kiss to a different part of your face. Your cheeks, nose, forehead, chin and lips don’t stand a chance. This time his kisses do force flustered giggles out of you, a squeak or two after he squishes your cheeks with his numerous kisses. Good luck keeping count with him around.

Oh how he missed you. This week has been nothing but one item on Vought’s itinerary after another and his hunger for you and your love has been growing each passing second he spends in your absence.

You finally manage to push him away, the rapid-fire smooching already getting you ticklish and wobbly. Not that he wouldn’t catch you should his affection be too much for you. Of course then you really couldn’t escape the descent of affection he had to give. 

But he’s a merciful god, and he lets you create some distance. Satisfied, he watches your giggles slowly die out as you look every bit in love. “Hey,” you finally break your loving eye contact and you reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Hey, you.” He echoes, his smile equally fond, eyes crinkling with genuine joy.

“You got here very quickly.” You note. Both a little impressed and suspicious. He’s very aware of the way your thumb is rubbing over his glove. Though dulled through the leather, each stroke makes his heart gain a little momentum.

“Well, you know,” he waves his free hand in the air, “the shoot was just wrapping up. I left as soon as I could. Wouldn’t wanna miss our secret little rendezvous.” The fact that he was close to burning down the studio is a little detail you don’t need to be privy to. Though at this point, you can probably tell. 

“Speaking of,” Homelander continues. “There you go, summoning me to a quiet, middle of nowhere, cabin in the woods. Mind enlightening me what’s all this about? What kind of naughty plans has your pretty little head cooked up that require total isolation, huh?” His grin is sharp and he by no means hides the immediate thoughts running through his head.

“First of all, this is your cabin. Not some middle of nowhere. Second of all, get your mind out of the gutter—now.” Even through your scolding you giggle, grinning at him as you walk backwards, dragging him with you.

Turning just around the end of the cabin presents a sweet sight. On the soft grass lies a picnic blanket, adorned with a woven basket, a colourful spread of food, pillows, and even a bunch of roses. As if taken straight from a romance novel. 

Except, this is real. Unlike most of his previous love life.

“Tada! Happy Valentine’s day!” You let his hand go and you raise your arms in the air at the reveal. Right along with your pretty glittering smile. The joy of this moment feels unreal. Is this really happening? Is this really his life these days? He can’t remember a time when he last experienced a joy this pure that wasn’t with you.

“W-uh-what? You put all of this together?” He’s a little shell-shocked. After a busy week, filled with more work than time with you—much to his displeasure—this feels like an oasis. He’s been parched all week, dragging through the desert that was working for Vought and here you come, rescuing him with the most delicious sip of water. Well, more like a whole reservoir of it.

“I had a teeny tiny bit of help but yeah,” you pinch your fingers together to show just how little help you’ve had.

“I had to make it a secret! And you’ve been treating me so well all week, I had to have a little surprise for you too.” He can’t tell which one of you is more excited. You look more excited with your near ‘skipping to the picnic blanket’ attitude, but his heart is hammering against his ribcage with this overwhelming joy he’s not felt in a while. He still so easily gets disarmed by all the ways you show your love. This is just another cherry on top of what feels like an infinitely tiered cake that is your relationship. Each time he thinks you surely don’t have more to give, you go and add another tier or another cherry. Sweeting his sour life, one moment at a time.

“Come on,” you walk—no, skip—back to him, aiming to grasp both of his hands. Homelander catches you right before you manage to, one arm around your waist, the other supporting the back of your head and just like that you’re yet again caught in the web that are his kisses. He presses his lips firmly against yours, waiting for you to relax, letting him have his way with your now-parted lips. With pleased little sighs and long hums in between, he renders your legs into a jelly-like state, supporting your weight effortlessly.

“I love you,” he breathes out heavily when he finally pulls away, his forehead pressed against yours.

“I love you too,” you catch your breath. The smile you offer up steals his heart a hundred times over, while the sped up pitter-patter of your heart soothes him. You’re just as enamored by him as he is by you.

“Let’s enjoy this together.” He lets you take his hands this time as you walk him to the picnic. You sit down first, carving out a space for the two of you, impatiently patting the area next to you. Homelander takes care to move his cape out of the way while not knocking anything over or covering anything up.

“I hope your calendar is free the entire weekend because I brought a lot of food, drinks, blankets and movies and I plan to spend all this time spoiling you.”

“I thought it was the gentleman’s job to spoil his lady.” He looks at you fondly, one wouldn’t even recognise him like this. Though most haven’t earned this reaction from him. You have. 

“What can I say, I’m all for gender equality. So just let me spoil you for once.”

“Alright then missy, let’s see what you’ve got.” He’s lying on his side, propped up on his elbow. 

While you reach for the furthest tray filled with all sorts of sweets and finger food, Homelander looks around at all that you’ve prepared, curiously picking up an iced cookie.

“Are these… our initials?” He asks after he inspects the heart shaped cookie from each side before biting into it. They’re clearly custom made with the love for each other in mind, but the idea of you ordering these from a bakery makes him chuckle. What’s next, are you gonna get him to carve out your initials into a tree?

Well, he definitely could.

Maybe, he should. 

He could carve out your initials into the moon if you asked him to. 

“Cheesy, I know.”

“Sweet too, just like you.” 

“I take it back, you’re a whole league ahead of the cookies.” You deadpan.

“Come on babe, when else if not on Valentine’s day? Cut me some slack.” He was gonna put the rest of the cookie down, not wanting to overwhelm himself with too much sugar but seeing his initial all alone now that he’s bitten off your letter looks too sad for his liking. He pops the rest of the cookie in his mouth, wiping off the crumbs with his glove. 

“Now, now. Don’t get too full on cookies. I’ve got more for you.” You pluck a chocolate covered strawberry from a tray. “Here, open up.” You hold the chocolate covered tip of the strawberry close to his lips, waiting for him to take a bite. It’s only appropriate for a man of god-like status like him to be fed and worshipped by his love. You always fill that role so well. His most devout one. 

He bites half of it, letting you eat the rest. You put the green top back onto the tray when you’re done with your portion.

“You know I’ve never had those before.” He says after a thorough tasting session.

You have the audacity to look at him like he’s grown another head.

“You’re fucking with me. You’ve never had chocolate strawberries?” Your face scrunches in disbelief as you speak over a mouthful of goodness.

“I’ve had chocolate. I’ve had strawberries. Obviously. Just never together.” He shakes his head a little, acting as if you’re the crazy one.

“Wow. Okay. We’re gonna have to explore this bizarre list of things you’ve never had before.” Indulgently you go for another one, and he takes another mental note of your likes.

When he says nothing you prompt him with, “Well? What’s the verdict? Is it everything you’ve ever imagined?”

“Did you make them?” He asks, confusing you, instead of actually answering your question.

“No, I picked them up from the same bakery I got the cookies from.”

“Okay good, well, it’s not my favourite. Sorry to disappoint you there.” He clasps his hands together as he looks at you with a terribly fake apologetic smile.

“Wait, wait, wait. Hold up. Were you about to lie to me if I said I did make them?”

He sputters, blowing a raspberry as he looks away, pretending to just be scoping out the place.

“Who, me? No, never!” He feigns innocence without actually putting any of his acting chops behind the gesture.

“You ass!” You gently smack his chest. “What didn’t you like about it?” Now that you know he’s not a fan, you eagerly hog the tray, scoffing down one strawberry after another.

“The taste is fine enough. It’s the texture that’s all wrong. Mushy and crunchy at the same time is just, bleugh.” He shakes his head a little bit as if disgusted, acting all dramatic. He’d happily be seen as silly and dramatic if it gets you to laugh as joyously and heartily as it does this time.

When your chuckles die out, you call him out. “Fussy. Oh well, more for me.”

He takes his time. Watching over you closely as you enjoy your sweet little red treats.

“You know what would taste better?” 

“Hmm?” You hum absentmindedly, putting the tray away after discarding another leafy top.

“You.” He pulls you down to his level when your hands are free, lying you across the top of him.

You yelp at the sudden pull. After you settle on top of him a little better, you mumble. “I taste just like the strawberries!” 

“Mhm, but you feel a hell of a lot better. C’mere.” Just like that, he’s kissing you again. His hands can’t decide where to hold you so they slide around your back, your hips—stealing a cheeky squeeze of your ass, shocking a little nip to his lip from you—and all the way around your neck, head and arms. His hands are just as greedy for you as his lips are.

And you were right. You do taste like strawberries and chocolate. The hint of sweet and delicious alongside the taste of you that he so loves. You don’t take his kisses as seriously. Giggling and wobbling on top of him.

You pull away with a burst of giggles at the awkward position. You’re almost spread entirely across him, limb to limb. Body part to body part. It’s admittedly a little silly looking. Like two people making snow angels on top of one another. But still, the effortlessness that comes with the sounds you make, swells his heart with fondness.

You reach your arm out into the woven wicker basket and pull out a can of whipped cream.

“Well if you don’t like the chocolate ones, I’ve got some whipped cream for you.” Except instead of covering one of the fresh strawberries, you squirt a dollop of cream at the tip of his nose.

Homelander’s bewildered at your child-like actions. Especially so, when you lick the cream off with a disgusting slurp.

“Welp, now you’ve done it.” He easily wrestles you for the can without needing to use even an ounce of his strength, twisting the two of you around. 

He manages to knock over some of your pretty trays but he can’t force himself to care. Now when you’re underneath him.

You look so pretty like this.

Happily taking your place underneath him, cheeks puffed up with your laughter, lips in a constant wide grin. Your happiness around him makes you the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. He has to stop himself from descending on you with another avalanche of kisses, instead opting for continuing this playful little wrestling match you got yourselves into.

Homelander squirts the cream in a line over your lips, licking and kissing it off in between the laughter that still shakes your body. He leaves your lips leaving all sticky and improperly cleaned. This distracts you well enough for him to draw a line from your neck to your cleavage.

With a scandalous shriek you try to push him away. “Oh my god are you crazy, not out here!”

You squeak even more when you feel the cream land in between your breasts, spreading across your skin as it slowly warms up and turns liquid.

“There is literally nobody out here. I’d hear them.” Or well, let’s be real. He’d burn their eyes out for accidentally seeing you in a mildly compromising position, he wants to add but chooses to keep the moment sweet for your sake.

Obscenely, he licks up all the cream he covered you with. No matter how much you act as if this is the filthiest thing he’s ever done. There are plenty more filthier things he’s got planned with this whipped cream. Suddenly you’ve opened up a whole world of possibilities he hasn’t thought of before.

Thinking he’s already got you hook, line and sinker as soon as his tongue hits your skin, he’s in for another surprise when you don’t give in as easily. You manage to snag the can from his hand right before he gets any further.

“If you want to continue this, we’re gonna have to pack all of this up and take it indoors.” You threaten as if you were scolding a child.

"Fine. We can stay here." Finally, with a huff, he drops his advances, instead dropping his weight on you for a second before readjusting your position. Really, he’s glad that you have a mind of your own. Which isn’t something he can say for most of the people he’s surrounded with.

“See, this is nice.” You pull yourself up a little so that his head rests on your stomach. You take a deep breath, exhaling slowly and he enjoys the slow rise and fall of your torso. To have someone so alive and eager with him really feels like the best Valentine’s day gift. That sickly sweet dimpled little fruit could never compare.

So yeah. It is nice. Really nice.

Your fingers cradle through his locks, gently breaking apart the hair product the styling team piled on for his photoshoot. He hums his pleased approval into the softness of your stomach, nuzzling himself into you.

Shenanigans can always wait. Now, he has this. And the rest of the weekend to catch up on all the time lost.

Taglist (you can add(or remove) yourself to be tagged when I publish a new fic):

@infinetlyforgotten | @rafecamsgirlll | @nervoussystemss | @hom3landr

@mrsdesade | @nommingonfood | @littlegaaby | @jokesonyoupup

@natliecole | @misatxox

[justacynicalromantic]

Borys Humenyuk🇺🇦 Ukrainian writer, poet, soldier. Member of the National Writers' Union of Ukraine since 2006. His works are not in the Project Nedopysani because he has been MIA since Dec. 2022.

Read his "Zapovit" ("Last Will") that I translated into English:

Today, we dig the earth again,

This hateful Donetsk earth,

This hardened, unyielding earth.

We press against it,

We hide inside it,

Still alive.

We shelter behind the earth,

Sit quietly in it,

Like little children behind their mother’s back.

We hear its heart beating,

Its weary breath.

We are warm and safe,

Still alive.

Tomorrow, we will be dead.

Many of us, maybe all.

Do not take us from the earth,

Do not tear us from our mother.

Do not collect our remains from the battlefield,

Do not try to piece us back together.

And—please—we beg you,

No crosses, no memorials, no stone plaques.

We do not need them.

They are not for us—they are for you,

The grand monuments you build in our name.

Do not carve our names anywhere.

Simply remember:

On this field,

In this earth,

Lie Ukrainian soldiers—

And that is all.

Do not return us to our parents.

We do not want them to see us like this.

Let them remember us as children,

As mischievous boys

With slingshots and bruised knees,

With bad grades in school,

With pockets full of apples from a neighbor’s tree.

Let them hope we will come home one day,

That somewhere, somehow, we still exist.

Do not return us to our wives.

Let them remember us as handsome men,

The ones many girls liked,

But who belonged to them alone.

Let them remember our burning lips,

Our hot breath,

Our passionate embraces.

Let them not touch our cold foreheads,

Our frozen lips.

Do not return us to our children.

Let them remember our warm eyes,

Our warm smiles,

Our warm hands.

Let their trembling lips never touch

Our lifeless fingers.

Here, in these trenches,

Which today are our shelter

And tomorrow will be our graves—

Bury us.

No farewell speeches.

In the silence after battle,

They always seem misplaced,

Like shaking a fallen soldier

And begging him to rise.

No requiems.

We already know where our resting place will be.

Just cover us with earth,

And—go.

It would be good if a field grew there,

If the rye swayed in the wind,

If a lark sang in the sky,

And the sky—

So much sky—

Can you imagine what kind of bread will grow

On a field where soldiers lie?!

(In our memory, eat the bread from the fields

Where we fell.)

It would be good if there were meadows,

With many, many flowers,

A bee over every bloom.

If in the evening, lovers came,

Weaving flower crowns,

Making love until dawn.

If during the day, young parents

Came with their children.

(Do not stop the children from coming to us.)

But that will be tomorrow.

Today, we are still digging the earth,

This dear Ukrainian earth,

This sweet, gentle earth,

Writing together, with our entrenching tools,

On its body—

The last poem of Ukrainian literature.

Still alive.

(Project Nedopysani - i.e. Project Unfinished Writing Works - is a volunteer project that collects works of Ukrainian writers and poets that died in Russia's war against Ukraine. Most of those writers have not yet been recognized or even published anything yet. So they become known only after they are KIA - when their relatives or comrades pass their writing notes to volunteers who run the Project Nedopysani. The Project was created to forestall something that has been happening for centuries when Russians attacked Ukrainian lands before, murdering the indigenous population and burning and destroying all works in Ukrainian language - thousands of Ukrainian artists and writers and their works lost to history)

Listen to the work in Ukrainian, read by Borys Humenyuk:

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Rose

beautiful words with "rose" to try to include in your poem/story

Agarose - a polysaccharide obtained from agar and used especially as a supporting medium in gel electrophoresis

Gyrose - marked with wavy lines; undulate

Morose - having a sullen and gloomy disposition

Primrose - any of a genus (Primula) of perennial herbs with large tufted basal leaves and showy variously colored flowers

Roseal - (archaic): resembling or suggesting a rose

Roseate - resembling a rose especially in color; overly optimistic; viewed favorably

Rosebay - rhododendron; fireweed

Rosebush - a shrub that produces roses

Rosedust - a grayish red to reddish brown

Rosefish - redfish (i.e., any of various reddish fishes)

Rosemaling - painted or sometimes carved decoration (as on furniture, walls, or wooden dinnerware) in Scandinavian peasant style that consists especially of floral designs and inscriptions

Rosemary - a fragrant shrubby Mediterranean mint (Salvia rosmarinus synonym Rosmarinus officinalis) having grayish-green needlelike leaves used as a seasoning

Roseola - a rose-colored eruption in spots or a disease marked by such an eruption

Roseroot - a perennial fleshy herb (Sedum rosea) whose roots have the odor of roses; also called rosewort

Roset - resin

Rosetan - pearl blush (i.e., a brownish pink to light grayish brown)

Rosette - a disk of foliage or a floral design usually in relief used as a decorative motif

Rosewater - affectedly nice or delicate; a watery solution of the odoriferous constituents of the rose used as a perfume or a flavoring

Rosewood - any of various tropical trees (especially genus Dalbergia) yielding valuable cabinet woods of a usually dark red or purplish color streaked and variegated with black

Siderose - full of or like iron

If any of these words inspire your writing, do tag me or send me a link. I'd love to read your work!

More: Word Lists ⚜ Roses ⚜ Bloom ⚜ Blossom ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[serpentface]

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

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

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

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

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

Etc

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Etc

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

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

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

[cynthiav06]

I have been living with this headcanon/brainrot about Athena (both from Epic the Musical and pjo) for a long while and a warning for the faint of heart, you know what read it anyway cause it haunts me , so everyone else has to be haunted by it too, cause I am petty like that.

Most people might be aware of the myth that Athena sprung from Zeus's head fully formed and in battle armor, but a few might not know the preceding myth, so here's a quick recap:

Zeus married the titaness Metis, who was the titaness of wise counsel, wisdom, and planning. She was also Athena's mother. Metis was his advisor, both an indispensable aid and threat to him, given her power and cunning. But it's no Greek mythology without a son overthrowing the father archetype haunting the narrative. There was a similar prophecy about Metis's second child being so powerful that he would overthrow Zeus. Mind you Metis was pregnant with Athena when the following events transpire:

Zeus being Zeus, paranoid and power hungry, the King of the Gods and the God of "Justice" manipulates Metis into playing a shape-shifting game and when Metis turned into a fly , he swallowed her whole. [I know Greek patriarchs have a thing for eating their children or spouses pregnant with said children. Runs in the family, apparently]

Mind you in Greek myths, swallowed children, or in this case, swallowed wife pregnant with said child stay alive for a good amount of time even inside someone else's organs. So Metis gives birth to Athena inside Zeus's head and raises her there. She teaches her warfare and strategy until Metis herself eventually dies, i.e., her essence fades. Knowing what she must do to not meet the same fate, Athena hammers on Zeus's skull from the inside to escape. Everyone knows the rest of the myth.

But imagine Athena's first lesson being that the man she calls her father is the one who killed her mother and almost killed Athena herself by swallowing Metis so she must do everything in her power to survive and avoid that fate by staying on his good side. To try and fit in this twisted family of immortals, half of who hate her existence and half who are indifferent to him. So she does exactly that.

Think of Athena asking to be a Virgin Goddess from learning of what comes of marriage with gods.

Now, the continuation of Athena's myth is that she goes to Atlantis to train with the sea nymphs. There she makes her first ever friend and someone she comes to dearly love, Pallas. Greek myths being allergic to happy endings, one day when Pallas and Athena are sparring as they do a bit more seriously this time; Zeus being a nosy bastard decides to spy in just when Pallas is about to land a finishing blow on Athena. Thinking she might kill his daughter, he kills Pallas by blasting her with his lightning. Athena, being heartbroken , Zeus gave her Aegis as an apology. The continuation of this is that Athena adopts the namesake Pallas Athena and even carves a statue in likeness of her friend called Palladium and then more.

But think of Athena heartbroken and bitter as the Goddess of Wisdom learns her second lesson, then she must abandon all personal relations and sentiment before her father ends it for her in one way or another. For Pallas was the first true relation in her life after her mother.

Keep in mind that Pallas is Poseidon's granddaughter through his firstborn son and heir Triton. This is the point that sparks eternal enmity between Athena and Poseidon, and all those who come after will suffer in the wake of this tragedy.

So Athena chooses to remain alone and without a friend to avoid such a situation. Imagine Athena being hurt, especially brutally, when Odysseus says: "Since you claim you are so much wiser, why's your life spent all alone? You're alone!"

Because that's exactly it. Athena is wise. She knows the consequence of endearing herself to someone again so she stays alone to avoid such a thing and yet coming from someone who is so close to being her first friend in a long time, hurt and enraged she leaves.

Now, when finally Athena comes to terms with her friendship with Odysseus she finds yet again that her father Zeus struck him and his crew in a similar fashion to Pallas , yet again ripping her only friend away from her .

He is not dead yet, and Athena isn't about to let that happen. This time, she fights against Zeus, risks her life and position of being the favorite, and her survival method all because she can't bear to see Odysseus die.

Think of the agonizing fate of Athena, repeatedly being traumatized by her father yet having to do his bidding and stay on his good side to survive and live not for herself for she lives in misery but for the people who suffered for died for their association with her. In her eyes, she must suffer tenfold for letting this happen thrice, for all eternity under the man who so wretchedly ruined her life.

[blacktabbygames]

What’s been the biggest change in Scarlet hollow from its design concept/beta script to how it is now?

I can think of quite a few! • In the earliest concept stages of Episode 1, you met EVERY romance option on the way to the woods. A bit of a quest with Stella to get everything you needed. This felt very "game-y" and a slog to write, so we instead chose to introduce characters one-by-one over the course of the next few episodes. I want to say Wayne originally didn't show up in episode 1 either!

• There was originally going to be a worst of both worlds Fourth Option for the major decisions (i.e. losing gretchen and duke in episode 1.) Scrapped because it was unfun, went against our core design philosophy (no wrong choices) and would be a ton of extra work for something people would just re-load and undo anyway!

• In the first draft of Episode 2, originally it was Stella who went deeper into the mines, thrilled at the chance to finally film Tommyknockers. Becka would make Alexis stay behind because "chasing after ghosts for youtube clout" was super lame, and Street Smart players would be able to convince her that it was cool actually. When the collapse happens, you would have to choose between going out of a *closer* exit, or going back after them. It was sloppy and not good. I believe discovering the carving in the mines was also optional in that draft! The whole situation made Stella, IMO, Too Much™, so we did a rewrite.

• The ghost hunt in Episode 3 was originally more of an active puzzle where you'd have to go back and forth between different rooms until you actually pieced everything together. This was: 1.) Not very fun* 2.) Hard to write 3.) Again it violated the no-wrong answers thing. Likewise, if there was no real consequence to getting things wrong, it would just be solvable via brute force. Much more compelling to leave folks with lingering questions and have them piece things together on their own.

*One of our longstanding rules of writing is that if something isn't fun or interesting for you to make, it isn't going to be fun or interesting in other people. Cut it and move on. I genuinely think this mentality is a large part of our Secret Sauce™ as a studio. • Avery was originally not a romance option and also a total dweeb instead of hot. Now they're a total dweeb (confident version) AND hot.

• We scrapped an alternate version of the clinic in episode 4 where a romanced Kaneeka would accompany you — we even did a bunch of unique art for it which you can find in the game files. Can you guess why it was cut? (IT WAS NOT FUN (also it felt like her presence undermined so much of what makes the clinic interesting — there was too much familiarity with her there. Too much comfort. We wanted players to be more uncomfortable!))

[azdoine]

John is hiding two Resurrection Beasts, not just one.

This was originally going to be a much longer and fancier argument, but I don’t have it in me to dress it up properly, so I’ll just pepe silvia this out

What impact does a Resurrection Beast actually have from within the River?

Answer: an apocalyptic and defining one.

I think we’re all on the same page at this point that Tamsyn Muir loves Foreshadowing Literally Every Plot Twist From As Early On As Is Physically Possible, so for posterity, here’s what Palamedes and Harrow first have to say about the River Bubble phenomenon in HTN:

“You cannot build in the River! It is a dimension of perpetual flux—defined space is nonsense here—you might as well try to wall off time with bricks and mortar.” “Yes. Sort of. But by our very presence in the River, we briefly exert space on non-space. Think of how, when you blow air into water, you make bubbles. The water can’t be where the air is. It’s like the air temporarily enforces its own rules over a localised area.” -HTN ch. 33

The given impossibility of carving lasting form into the River seemingly leads directly into some of the biggest open questions as of the end of NTN - i.e., what is the Tower, how is it related to John’s cosmic imperium, and how has it enabled him to wall off time with stone and mortar after all?

However, this is misdirection. While the River Bubbles created by the presence of Palamedes and Harrow clearly remain fleeting and unstable, NTN explicitly shows us the existence of entities capable of pushing back against the River with far more force.

Pyrrha said, “This is impossible. We should be flayed alive,” and Paul said, “Yeah.” Nona tried to explain. “The water doesn’t want to touch us, that’s all.” Crown was saying urgently, “Judith—stop, come back,” and Nona vaguely heard unbuckling; and then shadows fell over her, people standing behind her seat. The Captain’s voice was like old teeth. “He left them too long—you left them too long, my salt thing.” “You are here,” said Nona, finding talking was hard, that her voice sounded drowsy in her own ears. “Okay, good—the water really won’t touch us. I was worried about our back end [of our truck].” -NTN ch. 30

The possessed bodies of Harrowhark Nonagesimus and Judith Deuteros - both of whom now carry the spiritual influence of Resurrection Beasts in whole or in part - actively function to repel the waters of the River such that Nona worries about min-maxing the coverage of their reality fields. If a human’s presence exerts some space on non-space, the presence of a Resurrection Beast supercavitates against the water.

Kiriona is also extremely explicit that the Tower serves much the same cavitation-function in the space of the River, ameliorating the existence-sapping pull of the waters:

“The ride?” said Palamedes. “Wait. You mean you both dropped through the River? In that shuttle?” “Can’t be,” said Pyrrha, who was watching the Prince narrowly. “Not anymore. You’ve got a soul attached to you, kid … or part of one, at least. John would have had to go with you to stop it being stripped bare.” The corpse prince tilted her head to one side, like a curious bird. “You haven’t been in the River lately, have you?” she said. “What’s that meant to mean?” “Guess you’ll find out at some point,” said the Prince. -NTN ch. 25

Pyrrha sucked in her breath, and she said: “What the fuck is that?” “Told you so,” said Kiriona Gaia. As the megatruck spun around, the wide rippling grey waters resolved into something totally different. There was a big structure standing up out of the River—that water was the River, after all—a tall, cold cylinder of what was unmistakably stone. -NTN ch. 30

In other words, we don’t need to postulate a new category of power to explain the Tower: we can be fairly certain that it’s one of the world-body-layers of an as-yet-unidentified Resurrection Beast, for whom an anatomy shaped like a heaven-piercing tower would make it no more alien than the rest of its peers.

That being said, it’s not a difficult guess at this point to match the anatomy inside the River with the outward-facing creature in physical reality - the Tower’s aesthetics are strongly reminiscent of John the half-RB and his literary cant, but John has been active for ten thousand years, and there’s only one Resurrection Beast who starts waking up at the same time as the Tower rises.

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side    Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,    In her sepulchre there by the sea—    In her tomb by the sounding sea. -Annabel Lee

He said, I didn’t stick my thumb in my mouth. Had more sense than that. Fuck knows what would’ve happened if I tried to absorb you all the way; I probably would’ve burnt to death. But I needed a house to put you in, if I wasn’t going to put all of you in me… He said, From my blood and bone and vomit I conjured up a beautiful labyrinth to house you in. I was terrified you’d find some way to escape before I was done. -John 1:20 (NTN)

Before I get to the question of the relationship between the Tower and the Devils, I want to emphasize the significance of this explanatory stance: the Tower’s existence, as a lynchpin nailed through the unreality of the River, is no different from the influence that Palamedes and Harrow are able to exert in their respective River bubbles.

That is, the Tower is larger, but not qualitatively unique. A RB’s force of repulsion against unreality is exactly akin to a human soul’s repulsion against unreality, and both of them give rise to their respective reality bubbles. “Pushing back on the water” is exactly the metaphor for existence in the River that Palamedes takes for granted, and which Nona and the Tower both exert effortlessly.

And here we have to take a step back and ask: just what in the River is really ‘natural’? Does the subjective reality of the River even have objective features to begin with?

“This is Canaan House,” you said. “Moment of death,” he agreed. You said, “The barrier begins where your line of sight ended. It’s derived from everything you saw.” He said, “And it doesn’t change … the sea is still. It looks like it’s moving, but it’s not—it’s like one of those holographic pictures where turning it up and down lets you see another part of the image. There is nothing here, and that nothing never changes.” -HTN ch. 33

In the dream, they were hiking up a big hill of brown, sun-blasted grass, crunching like paper beneath their feet. Below them the waters were rising, but they ascended without hurry, unpanicked by that bubbling, churning, brown morass… The clouds were strange, and in the far distance, a twister danced on the neon surface of the sea. -John 15:23 (NTN)

In the dream the waters kept rising. They started making a hut at the top of the hill. Bodies were bobbing up and down in the water. He was scared of that—he was always scared of the water—and he made the waters go away for a while, and he raised up some parts of the earth that had been covered by sea. -John 19:18 (NTN)

I would venture a guess that the answer is no - that the organizing metaphor of death as flood waters and rotting oceans is actually being imposed by the expectations and experiences of the undead Alecto, just as Harrow-the-Lyctor exerted a uncontrollable subconscious pull over the world of spirit.

Exactly how many Resurrection Beasts are there?

The first time TLT raises this question, it explicitly lampshades that there’s a loophole in the final accounting for this metric: it wants you to pay attention.

“How many revenants are there?” You prepared for an astronomical number. The Body raised its eyebrows when the Emperor Undying said, “Three. “There were nine. We called them by number. Over ten thousand years, we have managed to take out a grand total of five.” Before you could do anything—exclaim, or question his mathematics, which did not hold up even on first acquaintance—he did something dreadful. -HTN ch. 2

Five casualties plus three survivors is eight, one less than the given total of nine. With the benefit of hindsight from Nona or a little forward thinking from eagle-eyed first-time readers, we know that John is equivocating because he doesn’t want to talk about Alecto, who was neither alive nor dead at the time, and who obviously the missing ninth Resurrection Beast of the Earth.However, Nona gives us another accounting problem:

He said, I took you into myself and we became one. He said, I bit through the sun first. It’s human nature. That started things going. Once you take down the sun, you’re cooking with gas, pardon the pun. I sliced through Venus, Mercury, Mars … by that point a couple of the tugs had already launched through the Kuiper. I had to kill Jupiter and Saturn in a fucking hurry. You and I went full fucking Hungry Caterpillar. We took Uranus … Neptune … crunched down Pluto … found every satellite and craft, reached in, crunched up all the humans, moved on. -John 1:20

John kills ten celestial bodies, not nine - nine planets, plus the Sun. TLT is very clear that stars are alive enough to slay and reanimate with necromancy, and thus that they should properly be alive enough to leave Revenants behind upon their violent thanergetic death.

Moreover, the metaphors and apologetics John clings to in this section - the ways in which he talks around his crimes against the Dominicus - are extremely loaded: he can’t stop himself from equivocating between Alecto and the Sun.

He said, You were screaming. I wanted you to stop, I wanted … I wanted you. I wanted you like a caveman wants a wildfire … or the sun.  I realised you were too much for me. This is the problem, the incorporation, this is the hardest part … It’s the human instinct, to take. He said, As the world went up I remade us both. I hid me in you … I hid you in me. And when we were together … once the shaman had claimed the sun … I became God. He said, I bit through the sun first. It’s human nature. -John 1:20

Augustine is certain that John can’t be drawing any power from Dominicus, and the rest of the story seems largely in agreement with his conclusions. However, John is clearly able to draw power from Alecto’s soul despite the fact that the First House is a corpse. If John were also supping on the dead soul of the sun in order to reanimate the sun’s corpse, that would be entirely compatible with the observed flow of energy from out of John and into the star of Dominicus, and it would resolve all uncertainty about his and Alecto’s absurd jump from Kardashev I to Kardashev II.

Then, the only missing planks of this wild hypothesis are: Why didn’t the Resurrection Beast of the sun flee the Dominicus system with the rest of the RBs? Where could John possibly be keeping a third keystone of his Perfect Lyctorhood? And, doesn’t this make the puzzle of John’s powers more complicated than it really needs to be?

Whence the Sun?

As for the first question, I believe John and Abigail both have their answers for this:

“The only sure way to banish a revenant is to destroy the physical anchor it inhabits before it can escape the shell. Inanimate objects can be destroyed; corpses too, if you remove the brain. But, Harrow, we have other problems on our hands,” said Abigail. -HTN ch. 49

You said, “So if you die, the Houses die with you. The star warming our system fails, and—becomes a gravitational well, as I understand it?” “Yes. A black hole, like the one that took out Cyrus,” he said. -HTN ch. 37

“It’s not that getting rid of the corpus wouldn’t be useful,” said the Emperor. “It would be. When Cyrus drew the corpus into a black hole, Ulysses said that it was the simplest thing in the world to dispose of the brain, that it fell into a dormant state, and he could bring it down to a stoma singlehanded…” -HTN ch. 36

When we see Harrow flip planets on-screen, the process of apopneumatic shock which blows the soul of the Beast from its corpse is not instantaneous. In other words, if a highly energetic system such as a star were to immediately die, its corpse might collapse or detonate faster than its soul could possibly escape through a thanergetic link to another vessel. The Resurrection Beast of the sun may literally be stillborn, severed from its own ties to undeath and left vulnerable for John to seize it - a vast and spiritual world-body lost somewhere within the afterlife.

And there is, in fact, another candidate for this entity - another ‘objective’ component of the underworld that we can map to the ruin of the sun, just as we can map the Tower and the entire aquatic River to Alecto.

“It is the mouth to Hell,” said God. He said, “A genuinely chaotic space—chaos in the meaning of the abyss as well as unfathomable … located at the bottom of the River. The Riverbed is studded with mouths that open at proximity of Resurrection Beasts, and no ghosts venture deeper than the bathyrhoic layer. Anyone who has entered a stoma has never returned.” -HTN ch. 36

Outside—another kilometre down, maybe—was the pale belly of the River, studded with rocky promontories. And right at the bottom—the water was churning. The station tilted forward, and I could see clearly. A hole had opened. It was big enough to swallow up the whole of Drearburh and have room to spare. It was a huge, hideous, dark expanse, and it had seething, weird edges; it took the lights pattering over them for me to see that the edges of the hole were enormous human teeth. Each one must’ve been six bodies high and two bodies wide, with the dainty scalloped edges of incisors. The teeth shivered and trembled, like the hole was slavering. And that hole had nothing in it; that hole was blacker than space, that hole was an eaten-away tunnel of reality. -HTN ch. 52

“They concoct their own vengeance,” said the Captain. “Their justice is not my justice. Their water is not my water. I came to help. I am made a mockery. The danger is upon you, and you do not even know … they are coming out of their tower, salt thing. There is a hole at the bottom of their tower. I will pull their teeth. I will make it blank for you.” -NTN ch. 27

A standard interpretation of Varun’s words is that the Tower itself is as a prison containing the Devils, and there’s a ‘hole’ in the sense of an aperture which now allows them to escape. Yes, but: the hole is specifically attributed to the bottom of the Tower because the spiritual embodiment of the black hole of Dominicus is spatially located at the base of the Tower. The hole is the Stoma, which Alecto has been placed to help seal and tap into - a Tower by definition rises up and over the bottom of the world.

We can say with some confidence, just on aesthetic grounds, that is an extremely strong connection between the Stoma and John’s power. The power of the Eighth House, which “sucks at the Stoma like a teat”, shares a shadow of the intensely oral, penetrating, incandescent burning glow of John’s transcendent necromancy:

As he faded, the pale Silas incandesced. He glowed with an irradiated shimmer, iridescent white, and the air began to taste of lightning. Gideon felt an internal tug, like a blanket being pulled off in the cold. It was a little bit like the sensation back in Response (which was, what, a thousand years ago?)—something deep inside her being prodded in its tender spot. But it also wasn’t, because it hurt like hell. It was like having a headache inside her teeth. -GTN ch. 17

Silas slammed his fists on the ground. The air was choked from Ianthe’s lungs. Her mouth and skin puckered and withered: she stopped, awkward, stiff, eyes bulging in surprise. The remnants of blood rose from the floor as pale smoke, trailing heavenward all around them. For a moment everything was blanched clean and luminously white. -GTN ch. 34

And God said, “Stop.” The world slowed down. You stopped, sitting upright in your chair: your bones somehow rigid and still, and your flesh chilly and rigid around those bones. The shrapnel spray from the Saint of Duty did not stop. But what remained of him stopped too, half man, half rupture—his prurient details hot and white, naked insides clothed with the sinus-drying burst of the power of God. -HTN ch. 25

I’m not sure that John has entered a full Lyctorhood arrangement with a second Resurrection Beast. However, I certainly believe that he’s constantly siphoning the RB of the sun, and that he’s permanently shaped Alecto to help him siphon and subjugate the sun, in much the same fashion that the Eighth House uses its own cavaliers to suck at the Stoma - yet incalculably vaster, for Alecto’s world-soul is both an impossibly vast channel and likely more suited to metabolizing the power of the sun than any other planetary Resurrection Beast.

Likewise, because he has no personal connection to the sun, I suspect John is using it not just as a punitive measure, but also as a proxy to extend his Lyctoral well - he can feed countless billions of people to the stillborn RB of the sun, dump smaller RBs inside, let them render down into an insane soul melange hive - teeming with demonic Heralds bursting to leap free through the first thanergetic link or solar convergence they can find - and capture the energies released by their lysis without having to devalue the meaning of the priceless relationship he thinks he shares with Alecto.

TL;DR - Hell is the ghost of a black hole, John is using Alecto to perform the Penrose Process on it

[ishparpuaqib]

I feel like most people casually acquainted with prehistoric archaeology (and certainly all archaeology undergrads) ask themselves the following at least once—are Venuses real? like, does the typological category known as "Venus figurines" actually tell us anything meaningful about prehistoric art?

I believe the most honest answer is that it depends on the author. archaeology has a lot of vocabulary, but almost none of it is systematised, so there's a lot of diversity to how every term gets used in the literature. if "Venus" is taken to mean "any depiction of a human female made before the Neolithic", then no, obviously the term is meaningless—a category that includes That One Upper Palaeolithic limestone figurine of a pregnant woman from Willendorf, this ivory figurine of a prepubescent girl discovered in Laugerie-Basse (the first prehistoric figurine to be called a "Venus"), and this Early Mesolithic jet pendant from Monruz... is not a very useful one

but! if you, as I do, restrict the label "Venus" to—

figurines (i.e. excluding bas-reliefs and similar) that

are about the size of (or slightly larger than) an adult human palm (3,3"/8,4cm), and

show no signs of perforations that would suggest they could've been worn as pendants or jewellery (implying they had to be held or perhaps stuck into the ground when not stored away), that

depict pregnant or corpulent women, always with exaggerated breasts and hips and often with a defined vulva, but

no defined facial features, and seldom a head more defined than a stump (if the head is present/preserved at all)

you get a typological category that is both geographically and temporally compact: basically all known examples of prehistoric figurines that fit the above description come from continental Europe (cf. the central and eastern parts of it), and are dated to the Gravettian period of the European Upper Palaeolithic (c. 31,000 – 20,000 BCE). this is the place and time that produced both the Venus of Willendorf and the Venus of Dolní Věstonice, the two best-known and most analysed Venus figurines. the latter is interesting because Dolní Věstonice is also the site where this carved ivory head of a woman was found (speculated to represent a portrait of a woman buried near the site, a facial reconstruction of whom is available here), suggesting the lack of facial characteristics on the (contemporaneous) Venus figurine is quite deliberate

so like. What Does It All Mean? idk! I'm not convinced the Venuses represent prehistoric portraits—if they were supposed to act as portraits, why would their authors choose to leave out their subjects' faces? even if they were self-portraits, the widespread availability of natural reflective surfaces like water makes the lack of mirrors a non-issue (I'm regurgitating Michael Bisson's criticism of McDermott & LeRoy (1996) here). the size of the figurines makes me think they were used sparingly—a satisfying, if not very interesting possibility is that they were intended to serve as protective amulets during childbirth. I'm not necessarily opposed to the idea they're meant to represent deities of childbirth or fertility or what-have-you, though I'm against any further speculation on the character of these conjectural deities as a matter of principle

[lambfawnteeth]

Character Profile: Daniel Frey

(Older picture but whateva)

I will not be brief.

Mentions of SA and domestic abuse

Daniel Frey

Just gonna state the facts, then after I’ll ramble about whatever metaphors and symbolism I write into his character.

Daniel is 19, working as the nurse intern aboard the Tulpar. He’s paired with Anya, and basically acts like her assistant, doing menial tasks regarding the med bay while he completes his own course work. He took up the internship for a few reasons; to get out of the house, probably for some sort of college credit, and/or because his mother insisted it would look good in a resume. 

(Background)

I’ll put this first in order to contextualize some of his behavior. Daniel’s family life is incredibly rocky, his father being a narcissist. Daniel himself is a product of rape, his father assaulted his mother in order to trap her in a marriage, which unfortunately worked. Despite this, Daniel’s mother tried her best, being there for him when he needed, but she wasn’t without her own shortcomings. Daniel was raised with his narcissistic father and codependent mother, and in order to cope with everyday life, he took after his mother. He fawned for his father, walking on eggshells, grew hypervigilant of his mood and tone, etc., all to keep the peace in the household. Submission and obedience were carved into his bones, even as he reached adulthood, his father still ruled their house with an iron fist. Daniel joined the Tulpar crew largely to find an escape for his home life, desperate to break free from the constant cycle of abuse. Daniel is a trans man, pre-op and pre-T, so he’s aware of how he appears to others. He was named Rosalyn at birth, and raised and socialized as a woman. This identity of womanhood also weighed heavily on him as well, as you can imagine, his father didn’t have the most stable or respectful view of women, or queer people. All this being said, Daniel was raised in a very specific environment, one that cultured him into being prone to severe codependency and trauma bonding, because that’s all he knew. 

(Pre-crash)

Weeks into the flight, Daniel had finally started to open up, acting more genuine and confident. His personality is more mellow than Daisuke’s, but he has a good sense of humor, especially at inappropriate times. He’s a pretty stereotypical angsty teenager at times, sarcastic and tired, but that’s all combined with his sense of empathy and people pleasing tendencies. I.e., if you know who April Ludgate from Parks and Recreation is, he acts like her, but a bit more nice. Despite coming out of his shell, he still acts a little strangely from Curly’s pre-crash POV. Spacing out, forgetting things, flinching often , jumping in to try and appease the situation a little too quickly, but Curly being Curly, he doesn’t focus on the warning signs. Possibly the most obvious display of Daniel’s struggles from Curly’s segments would be the party scene, where Jimmy blows up and shouts at him about being laid off. While the others have their own dialogue, Daniel is completely silent, his head bowed, hands in his lap, like a child being scolded. The situation was painfully similar to thing’s he’d dealt with at home, with an angry man yelling over the dinner table. Daniel strives for praise from those around him, especially those in authority, like Curly or Anya, even Jimmy. 

(Relationships)

Curly: Being an intern, I imagine Daniel is maybe a little intimidated by him, as he is with most men older than him. However, he grows to see Curly as well intentioned, but a little ignorant. I have this idea in my head that he’s one of those people who try to be supportive to a trans person, but just end up being awkward about it. Daniel finds it funny.

Jimmy: At this point, Daniel doesn’t exactly like Jimmy that much. He gives him this weird feeling at times, he can sense there’s something about him that isn’t like the others. He can’t exactly put his finger on it now, but later he realizes it’s because Jimmy reminded him of his father, just a little bit. He’s still courteous, but definitely gives him weird looks and avoids talking to him if he looks a little too irritated at the world. This is just me projecting but tbh Jimmy gives me the vibe that he’s passively transphobic, like he’ll call Daniel by his chosen name and masculine pronouns, but only because he doesn’t want the others thinking he’s an asshole, not because he actually cares about Daniel’s feelings or identity.

Anya: He adores Anya, as a mentor and a friend. He likes being able to talk freely with her, they probably share a similar set of values and humor. There’s also the fact that she’s the only woman in a ship full of cis men, so he feels more comfortable being around her anyway. I think I can equate their relationship as a closeted highschool student and their hip English teacher that they spend lunch with. 

Daisuke: Being the two youngest members of the crew, (I think Daisuke is around his age, maybe 19-20), they’re definitely good buddies. They talk about video games and pokemon and things they miss about being on earth, like wifi. Though, I do think if they weren’t forced into proximity and isolation, like if they went to college together, they probably wouldn't really talk. They’re just parts of different crowds. Daisuke is active and outgoing, he plays sports, while Daniel would usually keep to himself on earth, the kind of guy to only really have two or three close friends and no one else.

Swansea: Again, Daniel was initially intimidated by him, a lot, and he still is, but not as much anymore. Mostly it’s because Swansea seems like a decent guy, but Daniel just has a hard time reading him, and that makes him nervous. I think Swansea would see him as (surprisingly) slightly more tolerable than Daisuke, because he’s a bit more level headed and soft spoken. 

(Post-crash)

Daniel changes drastically after the incident, and in the time skip, he’s messily chopped his hair, covered up, and has stopped wearing his binder, and has stopped taking good care of himself in general. He’s lost hope at this point, and is only really going through the motions, because the dynamic between himself, Anya, and Jimmy is the only familiar thing he can grasp onto, even if it’s far from healthy or kind. Daniel’s mellow personality shifts to timidness, depression, and an unwillingness to stand up or speak for himself. He’s grown to be massively pessimistic, acknowledging that he believes that they’re all going to die. He follows Jimmy around like a lost puppy, fawning and appeasing him to keep the tension low. When he isn’t entertaining Jimmy, he heels at Anya’s side like a guard dog, afraid to leave her alone, even losing sleep over it. He bows his head, taking Jimmy’s verbal abuse and comments, but whenever Jimmy directs it towards Anya, he leaps up to defend her, even redirecting Jimmy’s abuse onto himself. He practically begs for comfort and validation, just needing someone to tell him that he’s doing good because he’s so lost and afraid. Essentially, he regressed to the trauma responses of himself at seven years old. 

(Relationships)

Curly: Daniel holds a love hate relationship with him. He hates Curly for putting them in this situation, for not doing anything about Jimmy. Meanwhile, he also deeply understands and relates to him, given that he’s now taken up the mantle of appeasing Jimmy, stepping right in where Curly left. He will linger in the med bay at times and speak to him, just vent about everything and tell him how much he hates him, how sorry he is, how much he hates himself, and he feels guilty taking advantage of the fact that Curly can’t leave or respond or refute anything Daniel says. It’s a vicious cycle, because as much as Daniel is angry at Curly, he’s also angry at himself. They’re much more similar than either care to admit, and maybe they always have been.

Jimmy: Daniel simultaneously despises him and grasps at any bit of praise or attention he offers. Jimmy takes advantage of this. Jimmy essentially treats Daniel like a lap dog, a pet, rather than a human being. He knows he can kick him around, and Daniel will still scurry back for whatever crumbs he gives him. It makes Jimmy feel in control, powerful, important. Daniel is both lost in the toxicity of the relationship and painfully self aware of the hole he’s dug himself into. Sometimes Daniel wishes he could tear his head off, and sometimes he clings to him like a lifeline. This all stems back to Daniel’s background- Jimmy reminds him of his father, not only in his personality, but in his actions, what he did to Anya- and he simply crumpled back into the mold he was pressed into by his family. 

Anya: At times, Daniel is like velcro on her side, refusing to let her out of his sight. He’s too scared of Jimmy, too scared to let something bad happen again, especially because he projects the image of his own mother onto Anya. He feels responsible for protecting her, because of the pregnancy (to which she told him about shortly after the crash), and because of her dynamic with Jimmy, it’s like he’s defending a past version of his own mother from his father. Anya loathes the position she was put into, trying to manage herself, Curly, all while watching Daniel tear himself apart just to try and keep the ship quiet. After all, Daniel is the only other soul on the ship that understands the horror, the fear, the violation of abuse in this capacity, and she’s watching him fall right back into line.

Daisuke: Daniel has all but retracted into himself at this point, neglecting the relationship that he and Daisuke had. Daisuke notices, and it upsets him that the only person he felt like he could relate to is now pretending like he doesn’t exist. 

Swansea: Again, Daniel doesn’t pay much attention to him, or his intern. Of course, Daniel shrinks in his presence, especially given his resurfacing struggles with addiction. Swansea is probably extremely annoyed by how desperately Daniel bends over backwards for approval, especially for a man like Jimmy. Two words to describe Swansea’s feelings about Daniel at this point would be “pity” and “annoyance”. He knows what’s going on, he isn’t blind, or stupid, he simply doesn’t find it in himself to have the knowledge or motivation to fix it. 

(Death)

Daniel’s death (sorta) happens after Anya’s and before Daisuke’s. Seeing Anya’s death shook something in Daniel, broke him, and finally flipped a switch in his brain to act instead of bending infinitely. When Jimmy leaves Daisuke with Swansea, injured and bleeding out, in order to find mouthwash in an attempt to “help”, Daniel wordlessly gets up and begins to follow him. Swansea says nothing, only focusing on Daisuke, because deep down, he knew Daniel was going to do something drastic, and he wasn’t going to convince him otherwise. Daniel swipes one of the hammers from the maintenance room as he silently follows Jimmy to the cargo hold. As Jimmy roots around, Daniel corners him, confronts him, and attacks him. This ends poorly, because despite getting a hit in, Daniel is weaker and smaller than Jimmy, so Jimmy throws him off and takes the hammer. At this point, Jimmy sees Daniel as a threat, and chases after him, as Daniel runs. Daniel flees up the staircase to the upper catwalks in the cargo hold, but Jimmy catches up with him, and they tussle until Jimmy throws Daniel against one of the railings of the catwalk (which are probably damaged from the crash, if not already old and creaky). The railing pops, and leaves Daniel lying across it, halfway suspended over the massive drop to the ground. There’s a tense moment of silence, both afraid to move, but Daniel reaches out a shaky hand, silently asking for help, for Jimmy to not let him fall. Jimmy thinks about it, but he ultimately stays still, and ignores his plea. After a few more moments, Daniel shifts, the last bolt pops, and he falls to the ground. Jimmy continues on, cue the scary ass horse segment, and then finally gets his hands on the mouthwash. When he circles back on the ground floor, he comes across Daniel’s body. He’s broken and bloody, but he’s alive, his breaths wheezing and pained. Daniel snapped his spine, broke several bones, even suffering from globe luxation on his right side (eye popped out of socket from blunt force). He was paralyzed and freezing, and Jimmy delivers a speech that parallels Swansea’s speech to Daisuke before killing him. However, instead of killing Daniel, Jimmy’s idea of mercy is to leave him alive. Daniel was alive for hours, in excruciating pain, until he eventually succumbed to a mix of hypothermia and blood loss. The cargo holds of most aircrafts and ships aren’t exactly kept up to the same living standards/temperatures as the rest of the inhabited areas, and I don’t think Pony Express would shell out the money for the fuel or system to head the massive cargo hold, so it’s probably nearly freezing in there, especially since they’re in the middle of space.

(Symbolism and other rambling) 

OKAY FINALLY I CAN TALK ABOUT THIS. First starting with the big idea, Daniel’s family back home is represented in his relationship with Anya, Jimmy, and Curly. Jimmy represents his father, while both Anya and Curly represent his mother in different ways. Anya symbolizes his mother as a victim, and Curly is his mother as a guardian. As a victim, Daniel heavily empathizes with his mother, he sees himself in her suffering and isolation, it’s the part of his mother he jumped to defend. On the other hand, Daniel is furious with his mother as a guardian, as he is with Curly. His mother stayed with his father, she allowed the abuse to continue for years, decades, she prolonged the cycle, just like how Curly enabled Jimmy. He expected protection, but Curly allowed Jimmy to fester, he allowed him to get away with assaulting Anya, he allowed the very obvious signs that Jimmy was also beginning to target Daniel, grooming him to be an emotional feed, someone to fulfill his desire to feel important. Yet, again, Daniel can’t help but relate to that, being trapped by a narcissist that used him as a feed.

Going back to Jimmy, he treats Daniel almost exactly how his father used to treat him, which is why he so readily fell into that dynamic. When Daniel isn’t fawning over Jimmy, Jimmy despises how much Daniel defends Anya, seeing that relationship as Anya coercing Danny as a pawn, a hint of Jimmy not granting Daniel humanity or autonomy, just a tool, or a pet. Also the familial connection between Anya and Daniel, as well as Curly and Daniel, draws into the fact that Daniel himself was also the product of rape. Anya’s maternal role with Danny connects with her own pregnancy, and Curly representing the unborn fetus (something entirely dependent on Anya to survive), also ties to Daniel. Daniel sees himself in Curly, in the continuance of the cycle of abuse, in being a child conceived from rape. His anger towards Curly loops right back around to being a metaphorical hatred of himself, of his position in the cycle, and his existence as a rape baby. It’s solidified with the position of Jimmy as his metaphorical father, while also being Anya’s rapist. Additionally, “Rosalyn”, Daniel’s dead name, means something along the lines of “gentle” or “tender horse”. “Tender” and “gentle” are both a reference to the identity of a victim being forced on him, as well as being raised a woman, having the stereotypical gender roles of a woman forced onto him as well. The “horse” part also draws back to the horse fetus in the game being a symbol of Anya’s pregnancy, and therefore, tying Daniel again to being a child of rape. Daniel himself feels immense guilt for his own conception, he feels like he ruined his mother’s life, that he’s a walking reminder of cruelty and abuse, and therefore also uses his relationship with Jimmy as a form of punishment for himself. He feels like he needs to atone for existing, for being the outcome of something so awful, so that’s another reason why he hates himself (and Curly by that metaphorical connection) so much.

Another massive part of his symbolism is the image of a dog. His relationship with Jimmy, as described earlier, was that of a pet, a lapdog, something stupidly loyal and desperate for attention and praise. It also tells how Jimmy viewed Daniel not as a person, but as something below him, something to train and direct. He never granted Daniel autonomy or humanity, seeing his actions as either directed from Jimmy himself or Anya’s “coercion”. Then there’s also the position of Daniel being a guard dog for Anya, taking the brunt of Jimmy’s abuse (with varying success) on sheer instinct, because that’s how he was trained. 

There’s also Laika, the soviet space dog, which I’m sure many have heard the story before but I’ll explain it anyway for the sake of continuity. Laika was the first living animal to orbit the earth, but when the scientists sent her up, they never had intentions of getting her back down. She ended up dying in space after two or so orbits, the cabin of the spacecraft overheating, then plummeting back to earth, disintegrating and landing in the ocean. Daniel is tied to this concept of Laika, such as sacrificing himself for a sort of martyrdom, being sent up into space with no real plan for coming back down, since he boarded the Tulpar to escape his house, and didn’t really plan for anything else in the future. I also have the idea that, despite being tied so heavily with the idea of Laika, Curly is the one that receives the name for her (Laika was also called Curly by the scientists), because Daniel was not given the liberty to die with his own name. Those who knew him on earth will not remember him as Daniel, just like despite leaning into Laika’s symbolism, he isn’t granted the identity. 

Daniel’s whole death sequence is supposed to be a metaphor for him trying to break the cycle, to confront his trauma with his own father, but ultimately failing. A lot of Daniel’s character is connected to the concept of cycles, even in his design. The ring necklace being a circle, the ouroboros graphic on his band t-shirt he wears pre-crash, are also references to repeating cycles. That death sequence, if you think about it, is also a circle. He confronts Jimmy on the ground, is chased up the catwalks, only to fall right back down to the ground, where he started. Just like how an abusive relationship circles back around, Daniel reached out to Jimmy again as he was about to fall, about to repeat the cycle of repulsion and attraction, etc. 

In general, I guess I can say that Daniel’s story is a narrative about how refusing to confront his own trauma and fight back against it ultimately lead to him repeating it till death. Also, the concept of Daniel being paralyzed and freezing to death is another reference to his repetition of cycles, he was too cemented, “frozen”, “paralyzed” in his own trauma responses that he never changed at all. 

(More things I can’t think of where to sandwich them)

Daniel changes appearance from pre to post-crash. Covering himself with the boiler suit is a visual cue to him retreating in on himself, guarding himself, including the medical gloves. Also, the uniform doesn’t fit him, it’s too tight, a reference to the constricting feeling of having an identity that doesn’t fit him forced onto him. Also probably says something about how Pony Express did not consider him when providing the uniform.

Daniel wants to be a vet, and is taking a gap year in order to do the internship on the Tulpar.

He has cats, and often misses them.

He draws on Anya’s sticky notes in the med bay, Anya has a love-hate relationship with that habit. She likes his doodles, but she only has so many sticky notes

Daniel is only afraid of Anya when the board games come out.

He is afraid of heights.

He tried the mouthwash once, got violently ill, and then immediately wallowed in guilt over the fact that Anya had to use some medical supplies on him. He then vowed to never touch it again.

Radiohead fan. (derogatory)

I have a spotify playlist for him that is 10 hours long

OOhhh my god that took so so so long. Anyway I hope any of this made sense like even a little bit. Comments and questions appreciated if you got this far :3

Anyway, he's my single celled organism that I smash flat with a coffee mug all the time.