#life without art is a sad one indeed

[luxlightly]

Drawing steps

Step 1: try to draw

Step 2: fail to draw

Step 3: 10-30 of the most intense, violent anger, self loathing and impulse to break things and/or self harm ever felt by mankind

Step 4: anywhere between a few hours to a few weeks of depression and suicidal ideation, occasionally going back to extreme self loathing and anger

Step 5: wait until the temptation to try again grows too strong to resist and go back to step 1

( at least this time my anger and frustration was slightly less aimed at myself and more outwardly aimed at fate. So i guess that's progress. We'll see how long step 4 lasts. In the meantime I'll be face down in bed listening to "please please please let me get what I want" by the Smiths when it doesn't make me want to kill myself too strongly)

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Ravens Spoked on Wagon Wheels Crushing Through the Mud

So, this can also be found posted on my AO3 account HERE. The full version including smut can be accessed through my KoFi HERE.

Summary:

In a dystopian future where society has collapsed, major cities have been rendered uninhabitable, lost. However, people managed to cling to the earth's surface. Forced from the cities, people now live in settlements spattered across the countryside. For those who don't wish to stay in one place, clans of travellers roam across the land in great convoys of wagons, carrying goods from settlement to settlement as they pass.

Because sons were seen as more valuable than daughters, men now outnumber women three to one in most places. As such, when König finds you after a revenge raid on your clan, he takes the most of the opportunity that has been pushed into his life, and takes you as his new bride.

TWs: Rape/non-con (or at the very least extremely dubious consent and forceful scenes), heavily implied attempted rape scene, technically kidnapping, forced marriage, HEAVY breeding kink, praise kink, intense violence, intense misogyny, dystopia

Wordcount: 20.3 K

Art from This Post

Story below the cut.

Ravens Spoked on Wagon Wheels Crushing Through the Mud

Wood cracked and popped in the flames as charred bodies lay motionless in the dust.

You looked up to see the tallest man you’d ever seen glowering down at you with baby blue eyes. That was the only part of his face you could see, the rest hidden under a heavy military helmet and a black shroud stained with twin red tear tracks. His brutish body was covered by scraped-together armor and giant combat boots. In his right hand, he carried a war axe covered in fresh blood. In his left, he held your chin with dirty gloved fingers. His haunted  eyes were red rimmed and watery, sadder than any you’d ever seen before. He loomed above you as though he was your new god. 

And in a way, maybe he was.

He was a man, and so thus he had been born with the world as his oyster. He looked down at you with such knowing sadness. It was almost as though he felt bad for you for being born as you were. In a world where men outnumbered women three to one, the few women that speckled this earth were naught much more than tokens of wealth, prestige or bartering chips to be used as men pleased. To see one free and unclaimed was a rare sight indeed.

“So this is it,” you whispered as the flames flickered around you.

You’d just watched this man run his axe through your step-father’s chest with such grace and ease that you might have thought he was dancing. This man had stood and stared as your mother and siblings had pushed you from their wagon and rode away before you could stand. Your own mother had literally thrown you at this man’s feet to save her skin. You had been nothing more than bait to her.

And clever bait it was. 

As the only daughter, one at a marriageable age at that, you would be the only one he’d have taken any interest in. It was no wonder he had momentarily stopped his warpath to take you in as his prize.

“It’s done,” he said hoarsely, “you’re mine now.”

You looked around at the remains of your clan. Those that survived had long since fled on the few wagons they had managed to salvage after the slaughter. The rest lay dead at your feet.

All around you the world burned. By the grace of one poor decision made by your clan’s chief, your entire world had collapsed under horn and drum and axe and club. The wasteland had claimed another clan to its bloodstained soils. You were now without any family nor any kin to call your own. You were a remnant of a mistake. Your worth in this world was kept between your legs.

“What are you going to do to me?” you asked, your voice only just audible over the crackles of flames.

“I will make you my wife,” he had an accent you’d never heard before, “unless you would rather I kill you now. What would you like?”

You looked up at him with empty eyes, “Would you be quick?”

The man waited for you to give him a proper response.

You sighed, “I don’t have any other choice, do I?”

“If you try to run, I’ll hunt you down with dogs,” the man warned you, “don’t think I won’t. My clan would be glad to have another woman to use.”

You swallowed.

“If you come with me, I can protect you from them. You would only answer to me.”

You looked out across the tall wheat grass. You could run all you liked, but the chance of surviving on your own was next to nothing. You’d be lucky if you made it through a single night without the protection of raiders guarding you as you slept. Men like the one before you were the reason that trips through the prairies were possible these days. They were also your greatest threat.

You didn’t have much of a choice to make.

“I don’t want to die,” you whispered as you looked around at the empty skies and golden fields, “and I don’t want to be a whore.”

“Then take whatever you want from here and come with me.”

You had precious little to your name. Your family had been by and far the poorest in the entire meagre clan. Very few would even bother to look your way. With their deaths you’d lost little. If anything, this was an opportunity for a new life. 

You doubted it would be much better.

Your stepfather’s old sword laid by your new husband’s feet.

“This is not a good sword,” the man observed.

“My father was a piss-poor hunter,” you explained.

“A pity,” the man surmised.

You walked through the ruins. From them, you managed to grab sets of clothes you’d only dreamed of wearing and a small stuffed bunny rabbit. You didn’t exchange a word until you had finished bundling your belongings together and stood up to look into his cold eyes. He looked so sad as he watched you carry your new belongings on your back. When you looked around, you didn’t see much else to grab.

“You would’ve done better to go for our chief’s daughter,” you said as you faced him.

He shook his head slowly, “I want nothing to do with that bloodline. She would be of the same poison that killed my father. I value my life too much to even consider taking her.”

You couldn’t argue with that logic.

���Are you a good hunter?” you asked him.

“I am,” the man said, “I am the best raider in my clan.”

“What clan are you even from?”

“Has your chief poisoned many others?” the man raised an eyebrow.

“More than one, I’m afraid.”

The man shook his head, “Then he should have prepared for this.”

“He didn’t.”

The tall man put his hand around the back on your neck gently. He leaned down to look into your eyes sympathetically.

“I can tell.”

You stared at each other silently, quietly eyeing each other up to see who would take the first swing. It was a standstill.

The man reached down and grabbed your bag from you and hoisted it over his shoulder.

“My name is König, and I am from the KorTac clan that travels from the west coast to the east,” he told you, “you will be my wife from now on.”

“Don’t you want to know my name?” you asked.

“Does it matter?” König replied.

You told him your name regardless.

He shook his head sadly and squared his shoulders, “I will call you my wife and nothing else, as that is what you are to me. Now come,” he grunted as he turned south, “my caravan is far from here. If you can’t keep up, tell me. I can carry you.”

“And if I don’t want to be carried?”

He gave you a sad look.

You didn’t have a choice.

The members of the KorTac clan watched you warily as you plodded along the path through their encampment. To your right, a circle of yaks was being tended to by a shepherd in a full black face mask. His ice blue eyes glared at you with unbridled disdain.

“Won’t there be a ceremony for us?” you asked as you walked through another ring of wagons.

“This is the ceremony,” his high pitched voice rasped.

You barely had time to consider what he meant before you were unceremoniously shoved towards a heavily ornamented vardo. You had never seen such an extravagant caravan before. The black and red wagon was a work of art, but looking arou d you figured that was the nature of the caravans built in KorTac. You once heard that when couples were married in the KorTac clan, both sides of the family would come together in a great ceremony to make the most beautiful carriage they could to house the new couple. Evidently, that was either a myth, or you weren’t considered worthy of such an event.

Once you’d been pushed inside, you were given ample opportunity to take in your surroundings. On the far wall, black wood shelves were lined with ancient leather tomes. The wall opposite was taken up by black cupboards. In the center, a painting of yaks was displayed proudly. Over on your right side, the cherry wood wall had a pastoral scene painstakingly carved into it. The wagon seemed strangely small compared to the outside.

“How do you move this?” you asked.

“Four oxen,” König boasted, “I have twelve oxen in my herd, eight yaks and ten goats. I have fifteen chickens and twenty sheep. My oldest son is my personal shepherd.”

“You have a son?” you asked.

“I have four,” he grunted, “and three daughters as well. I have others, but I sired them for other families. I expect us to have many children together.”

You blushed but forced down the pesky feelings.

“So there are other wives?” you looked around for a place to sit.

“Not anymore.”

König tilted the painting down off the wall. You watched as he folded it down to make a table and pulled out two benches on either side. He pushed you into one abruptly.

“So this will be where we live?” you looked around at the honey yellow walls and black wood accents.

“I have three wagons to my name,” he said proudly, “two were made when I joined this clan in honor of my two wives, and this one I made with my own wealth. This here is my personal wagon, which we will share together. My second wagon is for my children. The third is used for storage.”

“Who takes care of the children when you’re not with them? Will I be doing that?”

König sat on the bench opposite to you, “My oldest daughter takes care of the others when I am not there. I make a point to spend time with my children when I am home from raids. It is important to spend time with your family. You will learn that when you live here.”

You nodded in agreement and asked, “And what of your wives? The sisters? What happened to them?”

“My other wives were vixens,” König spat bitterly, “they thought they could kill me and inherit, tried to take my own head,” he laughed and sneered, “I took theirs instead.”

Your blood ran cold.

“What makes you think I’ll be any different from them?” you asked coldly.

König gave you a once over and chuffed, “You may not be. Pray that I think you are.”

You nodded solemnly. You would have to work to earn the trust of your husband. At least, if you wished to be a loved wife. You were still unsure.

König soldiered on, completely ignoring your trepidation.

“You can cook and clean, ja?” König asked as he leaned his elbows onto the table.

“I can,” you nodded, “I can sew too.”

“Can you read and write?” König questioned.

“Very little,” you admitted.

“Are you a virgin?” was his final question.

You nodded stoically.

“Then you will do,” König stated and patted the table with one hand.

You looked at him as he stood. Somehow, this giant man was able to stretch to his full height as he grabbed something from the cupboard behind you. He must’ve been nearly seven feet when he stood at his full height. When he sat back down, you saw him take out a small wheel of cheese from a cloth. He offered you a piece, which you took. You hadn’t had cheese in years. Few of the men with animals would ever share with your family. The last time you’d had cheese it had been stolen off someone’s windowsill.

When you bit into the cheese it was creamier than you remembered. The taste was milder too. You relished it with every bite. König seemed amused by how much you enjoyed the cheese and peeled off another mouthful for you.

“This vardo is larger than your old home. Will you be comfortable here?” he asked as you the cheese melted in your mouth.

You looked around and squinted. The carriage had seemed so much larger on the outside. As it was, it looked to be at most double the size of the covered wagon you’d lived in before.

“Where do you sleep in this?”

König gestured behind him to the wall and tugged the side slightly, revealing it as a sliding door, “I will show you our bed tonight when we consummate our marriage.”

You watched him shift the door back in place, disguising the door once again.

“Must we do that right away?” you asked sadly.

“Why would you put it off?” he shrugged, “it is best to start producing as quickly as we can. A pregnant woman is a claimed woman in this clan, and I don’t want any other men touching my prize.”

You winced at his tone, but you figured he was just being logical. Painfully so. Instead of lingering on his clinical approach to your new relationship, you figured you’d ask more about your new home.

“What do you keep in this wagon?” you asked.

“The basic necessities,” König answered, “but I keep my weapons in my storage vardo. I’ve learned to be careful with where I keep them.”

“I didn’t ask about your weapons,” you said.

König narrowed his eyes, “It is best to let you know.”

You sighed. So this was how your marriage would be. As König said before, a pity. 

When you’d been with your old clan, you’d hoped for a marriage out of love, or at least to someone you’d known. As it was, this man seemed to be only interested in the title and the benefits of having a woman to warm his bed. It’s not like you could reasonably expect much more, but you had dreamed of finding a man who might love you for who you were. Of course, nobody in your clan would marry a woman with no dowry. Your only hope was for someone outside of your clan to fall in love with you. Unfortunately, not many considered you that lovable.

You looked at the carved wood door. It took up the entire side of the room, acting as a dividing wall. A part of you baulked at the idea of bedding this giant man. Another part of you had resigned yourself to your fate. You had no choice in this matter. It was this or struggling to survive on the plains with nothing but the clothes on your back and your wits to keep you alive.

The thought alone made you shudder. Beasts prowled these lands at night. You were strong, but you were only one woman. You couldn’t fend off against an entire pack of wolves on your own. You’d be worse off against another tribe of men. Being torn apart by one man’s cock was better than being shared among twenty. You shuddered at the thought.

You were stuck here with König. If nothing else, at least a wealthy man had captured you. With someone like König at your side, you would never go to bed hungry again. The cold would become a distant memory. You could be comfortable in this life, as long as König was a decent man. If he weren’t like your late stepfather, you’d be glad for that alone.

You hoped things would be different here. For most of your life you’d struggled dearly. Your stepfather could never catch enough to feed your family, never mind the rest of the clan. Your mother got by on crooked trades and your siblings stole from others to make the rest of the ends meet. You were brought up on table scraps and broken promises for as long as you could remember. The mere idea of owning an animal was a pipe dream.

“How did you manage to garner such wealth?” you wondered as you examined his illustrious bookshelf.

“I am a good warrior,” König replied, “and I had two wives when I landed here. I became only more feared and respected when I killed them. Nobody was brave enough to challenge a woman killer. A pity, really. I like to fight.”

Your lip curled in disgust. This wealth was birthed by severed heads.

König leaned in until you could smell his breath through his hood.

“I built the very wealth they craved,” he hissed, “don’t you dare go thinking that I used those parasites for my own benefit.”

“It sounds like you did well enough,” you snapped back.

König’s shoulders squared as he slowly raised his head.

You stared at him defiantly, daring him to try. Do as he would, it wouldn’t amount to half of what you’d endured before. There was nothing he could do to you that you hadn’t already survived before he came into your life.

König’s eyes softened. He lowered himself back into his seat with a low chuckle and shook his head.

“What?” you snapped.

“You’re good,” he rasped, “very good. You’ll make a good wife. If you don’t kill me, that is.”

You scowled at that. What would this man know of good wives? You felt a tendril of rage coil inside you. This man truly thought you were nothing but a joke. He saw your defiance as a yapping dog. He saw you as less than.

You looked forward to proving him wrong.

König clapped his hands together again and rose to his feet. He stretched his arms to the side and turned to face you. He slowly began undoing his armour as he looked at you expectantly.

“This will be your first job as my wife,” König explained as he peeled the pieces off of himself, “you will clean my armour.”

“And if I don’t want to?” you tried to give him a menacing look.

“Then I suppose you aren’t a very good wife then,” König shrugged, “and you know what happens to those sorts of wives.”

You bit back a snappy remark.

He ignored your disdain as he sloughed his armour and dropped it onto the table sloppily, spreading bloodstains and dirt as he did so.

You stared at the mess and he laughed. He shook his head as he peeled his helmet off and dropped it on top of the mini mountain he’d formed.

“And your hood?” you asked dryly.

All humour left König’s demeanor as he straightened his spine.

“The hood stays on until tonight. Only once the last candle is out will I take it off,” he warned you before he turned to leave, “the washing station is near the center of the caravans. Just turn right when you leave and you’ll find it soon enough. Hard to miss all the old crones out there.”

With that he left you alone in the vardo. You wondered where he was headed. You wondered if he thought you might try and run.

You sighed in relief once he was gone. In all honesty, you feared that your marriage would be completely different to this. König was practically a lamb in comparison to someone like your stepfather. You thought that the moment you stepped in through the door, he’d force you into his bed and take you then and there. The fact he’d been so noble as to at least explain your place in your new relationship was a luxury few women were given in these lands. In fact, women themselves were a rarity in and of itself. Generations of men wanting only for sons had led to a land populated by men in a nearly three to one ratio in most places you’d travelled through. In some lands, the number was as high as five. You weren’t allowed to leave the wagon when your clan visited those places. Even your mother, a known married woman and a mother of four, would stay quiet and hide in the straw beside you.

You shuddered at the memories. Here it seemed different. If König was able to kill his wives and still be part of this clan, it was any wonder as to what sort of power he held here. To kill a resource that men had fought and died for like they were dirt beneath his heel made you feel sick. Was that how he saw you? Just another resource in his collection? Another tool in his storage wagon? You paled at the thought.

You wouldn’t let this man rule over you like your stepfather had your mother. That you vowed to yourself as you gathered his armour into your arms. You would find a way to live. If that meant lying beneath him and bearing his children, then so be it. There were worse fates.

As you carried the armour through the caravans, you decided that you’d find a way to live despite these horrors. Your mother had been in a marriage like this one, and her mother before her, and her mother before her. Women had no choices on these lands. The world was too cruel for creatures like you, beings of blood and birth and twisted innards. You were strangers in a land of men, wanted only for flesh and tossed to the side once you’d outgrown your usage. 

These men may own your names, but you would never let them own who you were. You would wage war against König’s chains, hold strong until the last dying light left your dead eyes. You would resist his will to crush whatever life lay within you. You could endure. These men might see you as weaker and frail, but as easily as they asked you to work they forgot how they honed your bodies through serving them.

You struggled and strained to pump the rusty well for a bubble of tinted well water and you thought about how doing these sorts of chores hardened your form. As you lugged buckets of water over your shoulders you thought about how strong your legs would become after years of making this steady march. Your arms cried out pathetically as you scrubbed the armour down on the washboard. Your skin was scalded by the boiling water and by the end you felt like you could barely feel anything at all. 

You grinned despite it. You would endure this suffering, you could use it to strengthen yourself. Then you would find a way to make this man pay for what he’d done to you. Maybe you could even find a way to track down your mother and make her pay as well. That was a later thought though. You had greater things to worry about, like who this König was and how you would live with him sleeping beside you. König could capture you, he could keep you in his wagon and he could slot himself between your legs each night, but you would not let him break you like your mother had been broken.

You would make them all pay for what they’d done to you. You would find a way.

You silently washed his armour free of your clan’s blood and tears. It was soothing to see the tub of water slowly turn pink and murky brown as you worked. By the time you had finished cleaning it, metal glistened in the watery sunlight, clean and pure as the white dress you wore. It was perfect.

When you went back to König’s wagon, you found that it was still empty.

You decided that without anyone to stop you, you’d try and find a needle and thread to darn the holes that had formed in the fabric. It was the least you could do, you figured.

You opened the first drawer and peeked inside.

There wasn’t much aside from bundles of heavy furs and valuable treasures. Evidently, König was a successful raider indeed.

Inside the second cupboard you found a variety of herbs and medicines stored in glass vials and pouches made of deerskin. This cupboard was neater than you expected, lined with care and precision you’d never known a man to possess. You decided that his late wives must have arranged this cupboard for him. You closed it with reverence.

The third cupboard was promising. You found a few cloth slings containing squares of fabric and woolen breaches, and under them you finally found what you were looking for. You held up the needle and thread with a triumphant cry.

You sat back on the bench that had been left pulled down and took out the black thread. You wet the tips of the string with your lips and slid them into the eye of the needle with practised ease. Being poor at least meant you were used to mending worn belongings. There weren’t many benefits, but you tried to find them regardless. It was a futile effort. All the pride in darning socks came at the cost of ratty clothes and broken toys.

The work was steady. It was easy. At this point, you probably didn’t even need to look down to know what you were doing with your hands. The metal plates that poked through the pockets were easily pushed back into place and the holes were mended quickly. It was sad, really. This was such easy work, but this armour was in such poor shape. Men were truly animals if they let their beloved belongings fall into such disrepair. It was a wonder they survived on their own. You looked down at your hands and thought about how long it must have been since someone had tried to care for these old armaments. 

You couldn’t do much about the dents, but when you were done the armour looked practically brand new. Truly, you’d outdone yourself. You’d never been more pleased with your work. And how long had it taken? By the look of the sun in the sky, longer than you would’ve liked.

You furrowed your brows. König hadn’t shown you his kitchen, but you knew he would expect you to cook for him. With a sigh, you turned back to the cupboards. Surely they’d save you once more, right?

Luckily for you, you found a decent stash of preserves that were stored at the bottom of the final cupboard you checked, hidden there alongside a pot and a pan and a few wooden utensils. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. You whistled a jaunty tune and picked up a few recognizable ingredients before you left the caravan to go and make a fire outside.

Cooking was something you were good at. You knew how to make do with very little. It was a necessity in your old home, to make more with less. With a twist of your hand you could feed an entire crowd with a basket of fish. It was easy when it came down to it. The key was to rely on simple, readily-available pantry staples, the ones others would ignore in favour of a convenient meal. If you just put in a bit more time and a bit more effort, you could make something just as satisfying for half of what it would otherwise take.

You scoured the land for some appropriate firewood. You found plenty of dry grass for tinder, but actual wood was hard to come by in these parts. You'd have used dried dung to burn, but all that you found was too fresh to use.

As you were searching, you stumbled across another woman.

“What’re you doing out there?” the woman swept her short cropped black hair over her olive-toned ears as she gave you a withering scowl.

“I’m finding firewood,” you explained sheepishly, “or dried shit. Something to burn." 

“Firewood?” she barked out a laugh, “you won’t find any around here. These are the plains, there won’t be a tree around for miles. Come with me. I’ll get you some wood. We just came from up north, so there's plenty to share.”

“What?” you shook your head furiously, “no, I’m sorry, I can’t afford to trade for any-”

“Trade for any?” the woman laughed, “I’m just giving you a couple of logs. You don’t need to trade me anything for logs!”

Your eyes boggled at the statement. How could she be so flippant about such a precious resource? With such scarcity of trees, they were one of the most precious resources you could come by. How did she have her hands on surplus wood?

“Come on, I don’t have all day,” the woman called and turned back to the heart of the convoy, “and don’t worry about trading. I’ve got enough to spare.”

You scurried behind her.

Within an hour, you were cooking a meal of salted ox meat and plain barley. Beside you, the woman from earlier was watching you work.

“You’re not using any spices?” Salvatrice muttered as she watched you stir the pot, “at all?*

“I don’t need any,” you replied, “this is good enough on its own.”

“But it tastes so much better if you just add even a little bit of pepper…”

You scoffed, “I don’t need it. My husband will be happy with what I give him. If he isn’t, I can take a beating any day of the week.”

“Are you sure?” Salvatrice asked, “my husband would be furious if I gave him this. And what’s this about a beating?

“Then he’s a fool,” you huffed as you stirred the pot.

“You ignored my question.”

You gave her a weary expression, “If you don’t know that husbands beat their wives, then you are a lucky woman indeed.”

Salvatrice looked at you strangely.

“You know if your husband is found beating you, you can find a new one? Our new chief is keen on making sure we are cared for properly. There’s plenty of other men to choose from,” Salvatrice raised a narrow black brow.

You scoffed, but said nothing more.

Salvatrice put her face in her hands and muttered darkly to herself. She only looked back at you when a pop of fat nearly spilled over the pan.

“Careful,” she scolded you.

“I am,” you said, “the fat is meant to pop like that. You cook plenty, don’t you?”

“All women cook in these lands,” she replied dryly.

“Then you know I’m making the most with what I have.”

Salvatrice glanced from the pot to the caravan behind you.

“It looks like your husband can afford better than this, if you ask me.”

You glanced behind you, “Maybe. He probably can. But he didn’t give me anything to work with. This is all I found.”

“Your husband doesn’t provide for you?” Salvatrice shook her head mournfully, “what sort of man are you married to? First you talk about beatings, and now you tell me he starves you?”

“He’s a brute, if you ask me,” you snorted and stirred again.

Salvatrice looked into the pot and hummed, “It doesn’t look as bad as I thought. Plain, but not bad.”

“Plain is all I ask for,” you said.

“But really, a husband that doesn’t get his wife good food to cook with, doesn't even give you logs for fire, has you searching in the grass for dung like an animal. I can’t believe it! It’s not like anyone is wanting for anything here,” Salvatrice said flippantly, “most men can get fresh meat every week.”

“Every week?” you whipped your head to her.

“What?” Salvatrice tilted her head to the side, “wait… Are you not from here?”

“No,” you replied bitterly, “I only just came here today.”

Salvatrice gasped loudly.

“What’s that reaction for?” you snapped.

“You’re one of that clan, aren’t you?” Salvatrice whispered.

“What? The clan KorTac slaughtered today?” you grumbled, “do you not even know our name?”

“I know your clan’s name!” Salvatrice defended herself quickly before settling back on her haunches, “I just didn’t realise. Then… Then who is your husband? You must have just met him today, right? Why hasn’t he gotten you settled in yet?”

You stirred the pot and shrugged.

“You’re right that I only met him today. I don’t know him well enough yet, but I know that his name is König.”

Salvatrice gawked at you again. This time not even a gasp escaped her slack jaw. She slowly covered her mouth and looked at the caravan behind you.

“No…”

You scowled.

“I mean, I should’ve guessed by the quality of your vardo, but still…” Salvatrice looked like she’d keel over any second with how pale she’d gone.

“What?” you glared at her, “he told me he had worth. Was he lying? Is he worth much around here?”

Salvatrice nodded slowly.

“Worth a lot?” you raised a brow.

Salvatrice nodded quickly.

“Then why the hell am I cooking this?” you huffed and stirred the pot again.

“König is the best raider in the entire clan,” Salvatrice muttered into her hands, “he’s the next chief in line, or so people say. But if you ask me, he’s a monster.”

That grabbed your attention.

“He’s a what now?” you asked.

“A monster. A beast! He’s killed three people!” Salvatrice exclaimed, “he killed both his wives and their suitor in one day. He did it smack dab in the middle of our camp! I damn near lost my mind when my husband told me about it. And now I hear he beats his wife? Disgusting.”

“Wait, a man as well?” you asked and put the wood ladle down, “also he hasn’t beaten me. Yet. I just thought that was what men did to their wives.”

“That is…” Salvatrice shook her head, “that’s just sad. I doubt König would ever raise a hand to you, but I don’t know for sure, seeing as he killed two wives before,” she waved her hands as though she could push the thought away. “Anyways, the man König killed was trying to turn König’s wives against him and take his property,” Salvatrice explained, “I understand why König did what he did, of course I do, but I think he went too far that day. Killing two women? And a man? All in one day! It’s just unthinkable.”

“He killed plenty more when he raided my clan,” you said quietly.

“But these people weren’t from another clan,” Salvatrice insisted, “these were his own people. It’s one thing to raid, it’s another entirely to murder!”

You glared at her, “I don’t see much of a difference.”

Salvatrice rolled her eyes, “I can’t imagine you would now.”

You felt that same curl of rage from earlier stir within. You were about to bite into her when she cut you off.

“Look, you just need to understand that König is a big name around here,” Salvatrice leaned in close, “he’s the best raider we have. He goes into the lost cities and comes out with the biggest hauls. Never has a scratch on him. When we travel south he gets the best deals. When he goes north, he helps young couples build their wedding wagons for free. The man is a legend here, but nobody would dare marry a woman killer.”

“So if nobody would willingly marry him…” you trailed off.

Salvatrice sighed, “I’m sorry for you. I really am. But if he beats you, tell me and I can try and find you a new husband.”

You stared into the fire silently. So this was your husband. A woman killer and yet also a hero among his people. He was a god and he was the devil, and nobody would touch him. You were just the unfortunate woman he found when raiding your clan.

“How old is König?” you asked quietly.

“He’s getting older, but not too old,” Salvatrice tossed you a knowing smile, “he might seem like an old man, but I hear from those who've needed him that he still has a young man at heart. And if you thought he was tall? Well, he’s got the inches where it really matters.”

You pursed your lips into a line. Just what you wanted to hear about the man bedding you tonight. You really just hoped this Salvatrice would speak about anything else.

He was still a woman killer. In fact, he wasn’t just a woman killer, he’d threatened your life within your very first conversation. How unfortunate. As König would say, a pity.

“So König is a good provider,” you finally said, “and a… ‘Big’ man.”

“A very good one,” Salvatrice agreed, “and supposedly, a good lay. You didn’t hear that from me, of course. But from what the other wives have told me, you’re a lucky woman if you can bed him. He produces the healthiest offspring of any man in this clan. Most men here can’t produce at all anymore, but he’s fertile enough to lend his services to others who need it. They may not marry him, but sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures. 

“Best of all, he’s an excellent father, even to those who aren’t his own. Honestly, maybe this is good for you. If it weren’t for him being a woman killer, he’d probably have his own harem.”

“Good for me?” you spat.

“König is reliable, if nothing else,” Salvatrice shifted her weight, “most men take risks when going into the lost cities. My husband tells them to be more careful, but you know how young men are. König is smarter than them though. I’ve heard a lot about the lost cities from my husband. He always tells me that they’re the most dangerous places left after the collapse, but König always comes home in one piece. That’s more than most raiders, right?”

“At least if he died I’d get his wagons,” you huffed bitterly.

“Well…” Salvatrice sucked air through her teeth, “I think his eldest son would, actually.”

“He has a son old enough to inherit?” your eyes widened.

“He had his first when he was just married at eighteen I think, maybe younger,” Salvatrice examined her nails subtly, “the boy’s at least sixteen by now. Nearly old enough to take a wife of his own. Old enough to inherit for sure.”

“Does he have any matches lined up?” you asked nonchalantly.

“He has one woman he’s been courting,” Salvatrice smiled fondly, “she’s shy, but they seem to be a good match. I think she’d be a lucky woman to be wed to him.”

“Is he better than his father?” you glanced over at her.

“Well, he’s not a woman killer,” Salvatrice shrugged.

You thought that was a low blow, but she had a point.

Salvatrice left by the time König came back to the vardo. He took two sniffs of the smoke rising from the pit before narrowing in on you.

“What are you cooking?” he asked as he crouched by the fire.

“Salted yak meat and barley,” you stated simply.

“That’s a very plain meal,” he remarked before straightening up and walking back into the caravan. He came back a moment later with two ornately carved mahogany bowls.

“These look too nice to eat from,” you said as he pushed one into your hand.

“I got them long ago,” König replied, “if you know where to go in the raids, they’re easy to come by.”

“You didn’t trade for these?” you raised the bowl up to look at the greek key carvings along the rim.

“No,” König shook his head, “if I wanted to work with my hands, I’d do better things.”

“Like what?” you snorted.

“Build another wagon,” König shrugged.

You gave him a strange look, “With what wood?”

“From the north west,” König said as he held out his bowl for you, “we go there once a year. We stay for two months and then head south to the opposite coast and stay there for another two months. The whole trip takes about a year to complete. That's how we get enough supplies to last for the four month journey each way. We've built strong relationships with both the Sea Wolf settlement up north and Miami down south.”

You generously ladled a rich broth over a heaping mound of barley as you told him, “I’ve never been far north. I’ve only ever really been in the plains and the desert south of here.”

“Harsh climates,” König said bitterly as he took the bowl from you, “best only travelled during the middle of the year. It’s better to be north west or south east during the summers and winters.”

“North? Really? I was told the farther north you go, the worse it was,” you shook your head dismissively.

“There are mountains along the west coast,” König said wistfully, “the climate is easier on us. The trees are tall, the mountains taller. During the seasons we visit it rains, and if snow does come we’re long gone by the time it arrives. We could honestly spend our winters there if we wanted to.”

“Really?” you struggled to believe him, “the winters were terrible when we went north.”

“You don’t travel far enough to escape the cold,” König picked at his food before bringing his spoon under his hood, “your territories were too small.”

“We didn’t have the supplies to travel further,” you felt strangely defensive.

König slurped from his spoon loudly, “Your chief could’ve made better deals. Instead, he poisoned my father and lost everything, including you.”

“I wasn’t responsible for that,” you snapped.

König snorted as he took a bite of salted meat, “I’m not complaining. If he were smarter, I wouldn’t have a new wife.”

You swallowed heavily. It seemed like everyone in KorTac liked to throw your clan’s past in your face. You didn’t know why you were humiliated though. You weren’t the one to poison the chief of KorTac. Anybody with a brain knew that doing such a thing would only end in disaster. Nobody could’ve known what your chief was planning to do.  If they did, they would’ve intervened for sure. Or so you hoped.

“You cook well,” König poked at the barley, “but it is plain. You know you can use herbs and spices here, right? I know you saw some of my collection. I stored them in the same cabinet as the pot.”

“I didn’t want to use something so precious,” you scoffed derisively.

“Precious?” König squinted in confusion, “how are they precious? They are common along our travels. Road-side flowers, we call them that.”

You flushed. Of course they would be. The KorTac clan had always had the best trade routes across the land. They were probably the strongest raiding group the world had seen since the collapse.

“We never passed those places,” you huffed, “I didn’t think they were that easy to come by.”

“When I say that I can give you everything you want, I mean it,” König chuffed, “you’re my wife. You can have whatever you want whenever you want.”

“Hot baths?” you snorted.

“I have a wooden tub on the top of my storage wagon for soaking.”

You frowned and set your bowl down, “Fruits?”

“I have some preserves from the south.”

“How about this,” you smirked confidently, “what if I wanted fresh meat every day?”

König finally set down his empty bowl and sighed. He patted his stomach and said, “If my wife asks for meat, she can have it. Anything you desire is yours. All you have to do is ask.”

You reeled at his words. Anything at your fingertips? Anything at all? All you ever wanted whenever you wanted and more. Everything you could possibly desire, and all you had to do was ask.

“I struggled to find something to fuel the fire around here,” you stared into the pit, “Salvatrice gave me some wood. She laughed when I asked for dried dung.”

“Salvatrice? She’s our doctor’s wife,” König mused, “a powerful ally. Stay on her good side. Her husband is a good doctor to my men. I’d be dead many times over if it weren’t for him.”

“A pity,” you muttered.

König glared at you. You returned his look with a cool expression. You could see the corners of his eyes turn up.

“You think I like being here?” you snapped.

“No,” König said as he took your bowl from you, “but I thought you might be less vocal about it.”

“I’m only doing this because there’s no other option,” you said as you took the bowls back roughly, “now give me those. I need to clean them.”

“Do you know where to clean them?” König asked.

“At the fountain, right? Just boil the water and it's good.”

König nodded and let you go.

When you came back from washing the bowls, the fire had been put out. Ghosts of smoke wafted up and into the dawning twilight. You sighed out a cloud of white mist and stepped into the caravan.

Inside, König was admiring your needlework by candlelight.

“You actually have candles?” you asked as the wick crackled in the brass holder behind his head.

“Beeswax from a colony of beekeepers south of us. They have so many that they’re practically free,” König replied as he set his helmet down, “you did well with these. I’m proud.”

“I’m good at mending,” you replied as you put the bowls back in the cupboard.

You sat across from him as he picked up one of his black iron shin guards and hummed, “So you are.”

He tilted the metal back and forth approvingly. He put the shin guard down and picked up the shoulder pads, nodding again at your handiwork. He gave another approving hum and set them aside as well. König drummed his fingers on the table for a moment. You were thinking of a thousand snide remarks to make when he stood and leaned over you.

“Duck,” he said gently as he opened a cabinet.

You did, only to realise the cabinet was too far above your head to be a worry. You looked up to see him pulling out a small glass jar filled with something white and speckled with orange spots.

“Hm, you’re shorter than I thought,” he commented as he pulled the jar from the cabinet and sat back down on the small bench across from you.

“This here, this is precious,” he opened the rusted metal latch of the jar with a delicacy unbefitting such thick fingers, “but I believe you are worth it. Here, have one.”

He fished through the white powder and passed you a piece of something tough and orange. It was encrusted in white granules of dust that flaked off at your touch.

“What is this?” you asked as he put the jar away.

He sat back down and nodded at you encouragingly, “Something sweet. Eat. You’ve earned it.”

You didn’t like to think of him rewarding you with food like a dog, but you were too curious to resist. You sniffed it gingerly, then gently nibbled on the chewy good.

It was an explosion of citrus sweetness on your tongue. You were blown away by the burst of flavour coating each and every surface of your mouth. How did something so sweet exist? Were there other things this sweet? The taste was like nothing you’d ever had before in your life. The only thing you could compare it to was a rind of lemon peel you’d been given by a trader. Unlike the peel, it was delicious. It was chewy and crunchy, sweet and fruity. You’d never had fruit this sweet before.

“What is this called?” you asked as you took another nibble, savouring each bite.

“Candied orange,” König’s pupils were blown wide in the dark, “it’s a delicacy in the south. The white powder is called sugar, made from tall roots that grow in the islands.”

“The islands?” you’d never heard of such a place.

“There are a cluster of tropical islands farther south than where we can travel on foot. Our final stop going this way is a former lost city called Miami, and they have access to a fleet of merchant ships. They trade with the southern islands, and sugar is something they bring back, along with other strange goods like parrot feathers and perfumes made from their native flowers. They’re expensive to trade for, but the candied fruits they make last all year.”

“All year?” your eyes widened.

“Like jams,” König nodded eagerly, “but these ones only get better with time. The remaining sugar can be used in other recipes, too.”

“Do you have a lot of this sugar?” you asked eagerly.

“I don’t have much,” König admitted, “I only have enough for me and my children until we get to Miami. If you’d like, you can use some to cook with. It won’t be more than three months until we get there. We can get more sugar there if we run out.”

The final piece of orange slowly melted away on your tongue.

“I’ve never tasted anything like this,” you admitted quietly.

König’s breathing grew heavier, “All this and more. It’s all yours.”

You looked down at the crumbs of sugar left on your sticky fingers. The little granules glinted like crystal snow in the candlelight. It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen in your hands.

You licked your fingers clean, leaving them sticky with your residual saliva. König watched you hungrily, almost as though he was starving just looking at you. His eyes were too wide, too intense. He frightened you to your core. You leaned away to focus on the crumbs.

You licked the final finger clean, “You’re not giving this to me for free.”

König laughed heartily, “I will give you whatever you need to be my pretty little wife.”

You looked down at your empty hands. They still felt sticky.

“What do you want me to do for you?” you asked solemnly.

König blinked, breaking the trance. You felt like you could breathe again.

“Be my wife,” he told you, “what about that don’t you understand?”

“But what does that mean, ‘to be my wife’?” you pressed.

König gripped the edge of the table tightly before manually relaxing his muscles. His eyes took on a look you’d never seen in a man before. They were dark like stormclouds, raging like thunder. His pupils seemed to soak in every move you made.

“You will act as my wife,” he croaked in his lilting accent, “you will clean my clothes, cook my food. When I am hurt, you will nurse my wounds. When I am tired, you will prepare my bed for me. You will care for my children. And most importantly, you will bear me many more.”

Reality crashed in. Of course. You’d forgotten about this while you’d been eating your treat. König needed a wife for more than just playing house. He needed a companion, a mate. He needed to seal your marriage as quickly as possible, to start bearing fruit and formally solidify your bond.

“What do you want from me?” you whispered.

“I want you to have my children,” König rasped.

“When?” you asked nervously.

He leaned in close, “Tonight.”

You felt your heart pound in your chest.

“Does it have to be tonight?” you bit the inside of your cheek.

König took your hands in his and rubbed his gloved thumbs over the back side of your palms, “If you are by my side, I can promise to protect you from any other man. But I can only do this if I have my claim on you. Without my babe on your hip, my stake on you is meaningless in this land.”

You slumped in your seat. You had no choice in the matter. As a woman, you were to provide for your husband in every which way he desired. You were his to use as he pleased. If you were lucky, you wouldn’t cry the whole time. You just hoped it wouldn’t hurt you as much as it hurt your mother.

“If we must,” you conceded bitterly.

“We must,” König slowly stood.

He held out a hand for you to stand beside him. You ignored it entirely. You looked down at your many layers of clothing. Your stained apron, your rumpled frock. You had never been bare before a man before. In all honesty, you’d only ever seen immodest men briefly before you’d turned your cheek. You had no such opportunity to do so today. Unfortunately for you, your new husband was bigger than any other man you'd ever encountered. If Salvatrice was right in her rumour-mongering, he would tear you asunder. You feared what he kept beneath his tunic.

“Would you like to undress in here or in the bed?”

“In the bed please,” you practically begged him.

König looked so sad as he reached out and pulled the door to the bedroom open, giving you a view of your new marriage bed for the first time.

You knew immediately that this was the best bed you’d ever laid eyes on. Not even your old chief’s bed helf a flame to this majesty. The entire room was dedicated to this gigantic bed, stretching from wall to wall beneath two shuttered windows on either side and bordered in by a giant plank of wood at the foot. Only the base of this bed was hay, unlike the bare straw you’d slept on your entire life. Instead of just scratchy straw to lie on and toss and turn in uncomfortably, layers of thick furs had been laid out over top of the hay to form a thick barrier. On top of said furs a layer of bright and colourful woven blankets had been spread out, the likes of which you’d only ever dreamed of touching as a young girl. In the back, a mountain of plush, colourful pillows crowded under a row of black cupboards. It looked like paradise.

You couldn’t hide the sheer awe in your tone when you whispered, “This is our bed?”

It nearly came up to your hip in height.

“Every night we will share this bed,” König told you before turning behind you, “you can undress in there and put your clothes along your side of the bed, which will be the left. You will stay away from the door when we are sleeping. I don’t want a man coming in and stealing you at night. I will put the bar down each night, but it would give me comfort to keep you far from it.

“When you are done, get under the covers for me. I will join you after I get undressed and put out the candle.”

You flushed and crawled in as quickly as you could, letting him shut the door after you quietly.

You shed your double dresses slowly. Your stockings and underwear came off next, bundled into your undergarments and tucked to the side of your new plush pillows. As soon as you had properly tucked them away, you tucked yourself into the blankets and furs nervously.

“I’m ready,” you called so quietly you doubted he heard you.

You turned to look at the rest of the bed. The blankets looked almost like the woven tapestries wives would weave as the caravans travelled from place to place. Instead of depicting bison and prairie dogs, there were pictures of fish and bears and ravens. Some bore elk and moose, wolves and deer, and some were beavers swimming through sparkling lakes. A few had depictions of soaring eagles and burning suns. You took a moment to feel the soft wool under your delicate fingertips. You expected this to be the only softness you’d be graced with tonight.

“I’m snuffing the candle,” König’s voice was muffled through the wood. You heard the pop and hiss of the wick, then the groan of the wooden door sliding as König pulled the door to the side.

You didn’t dare look at König as he crawled into the bed. You couldn’t bear to see his nakedness just yet. You closed your eyes and hid your face in your hands.

You listened to the shuffle of blankets, the fluffing of pillows, and then finally a heavy sigh as König settled into the bedding. He shuffled dangerously close behind you far too quickly for your own comfort. In all fairness, you’d have preferred him to stay on his side of the bed and leave you alone entirely.

Alas, you were a woman, and your opinions had no bearings here.

“The moon looks beautiful tonight,” he whispered behind you.

True to his word, when you opened your eyes and looked out your window, the moon hung like a beautiful grey-blue disk in the night sky, a second sun surrounded by her loving daughters. You wished you could dance among them, far away from where König wrapped his arms around you and tucked you in close.

[Smut can be found at KoFi HERE]

Sleep claimed you quickly that night.

Over the next few weeks you formed a sort of routine with König and the KorTac clan.

On weekends you’d take long walks along the countryside with Salvatrice. She took the time to guide you in search of flowers and herbs for her husband as you walked. You learned that her husband was a capable enough man, but because the raiders were always coming to him with new aches and pains that he was usually too busy to even try to leave the medical tent. As you walked beneath the trees, you’d listen to her explain the latest gossip around the clan and endure her comments about how strange your old clan was compared to the glory of KorTac. Strangely, you found yourself missing your old clan less and less the more she talked. You even found yourself agreeing with her sometimes. You missed your family, but they had abandoned you without so much as a shed tear. In addition, if it weren’t for them leaving you behind, you never would have been left in König’s care. You would still be starving each night and hating every man that caught your eye. You would still be suffering.

Sometimes it hurt to think about how you were slowly forgetting the faces of your old clan. Pain was exchanged for peace and comfort, the past melting away with each passing day. Forgetting was a comfortable pain. You were happier here, and for that you were sad. At the very least, you were loved now. You had gained so much since you’d been accepted into the KorTac clan. 

Even that bitter shepherd who’d stared at you when you had first come had softened to you. He liked to teach you how to milk König’s goats and turn it into cheese and yogurt in stomach pouches. You learned his name was Nikto, and though he was a strange one to be sure, he was a good man underneath his mask. A former raider, he’d retired when he lost his wife to another man while he’d been away. He’d since taken another couple of women to warm his bed, but you could see the pain in his eyes when he spoke of the one he’d lost. He told you that the black mask he wore was like König’s; he wore his mask to hide his scars from the world. You’d asked to see them, but he sighed and told you that men like him weren’t meant to taste the sun anymore. You gave him a tight hug and promised he would be okay.

 Nikto was a good friend, but he wasn’t the most important man you had in your life. You had a loving husband in König. He would eat dinner with you and his children each night, sharing laughter and stories over pots of herbed soup you made for them. 

You learned that his eldest son was named Peter, and the woman he desired was the new chief’s daughter. König would warn him that Klaus was protective of his darling, but you could tell he wanted the match to go through. As Peter spoke more of her, you hoped the match would be approved too.

You loved this gaggle of children and they in turn doted on you as though you were their own mother. You skinned trophies with his sons and learned to read with his daughters. You’d asked why they read before and they told you that it was to ensure they could survive on their own if they wanted to. How they thought they could was beyond you, but the fact was that they had hope. When you were a young girl you never would’ve had half the courage and strength these girls had. A part of you was jealous, a bigger part was proud.

Since you’d come to KorTac, you could confidently say you were completely loved and supported in every way you could possibly imagine. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

—

The caravans chased the clouds as they followed the trade route south. The wagons trundled over plains and trailed forest paths alike as you were brought closer and closer to the coast. The world was changing around you as you moved through the lands. You saw things you never imagined seeing before. Mountains crawled up like great giant spines breaking from the earth. Mystical blue lakes spread vast across the horizon. Your world was expanded with each mile this clan travelled along their usual trade route.

König said you weren't close enough, but you swore with each passing day you could already feel the water in the winds. He laughed and told you that such couldn’t be for another month at least. You told him you could tell by the burn in your nose and he patted your head with a snort.

Of course, going south meant great changes. It was after you crossed the largest river you’d ever seen that you were forced to face the realities of König’s role in KorTac.

“Are you really going into the lost city?” you asked as you watched him methodically put on each piece of armour.

“I have to,” König momentarily leaned down to kiss your forehead, “I promise I will be back soon.”

“How soon?” you asked as you stirred a pot of soup.

“Not long, my little wife,” he ruffled your hair, “I’ll be home in just a couple of days. It doesn’t take long to fill the supply wagon. The ride home is always quicker than the ride out. My men always want to go home as quickly as they can.”

“Don’t be too late coming home, otherwise you’ll miss dinner. The children would never forgive you if you did,” you said as you tasted the broth, “this soup needs more salt. We’re running low on salt these days.”

“We can get some when we reach the coast,” König assured you.

“You’d better come back,” you grumbled, “the merchants in the settlements don’t like my trading tactics.”

“They aren’t used to women knowing how to read. Most of them have never even traded with a woman at all,” he chuckled, “especially not one as stubborn as you.”

“If they charged a fair trade I wouldn’t have to be so ‘difficult���,” you griped.

König laughed and leaned down to kiss you again, “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

You swatted him with the spoon, “Just come back soon. And bring me some cloth if you can find any. The younger children keep getting holes in their jackets.”

“How do they keep doing it?” König muttered, “I keep telling them to be more careful when they go out. I really do!”

“I know you do,” you sighed, “but they’re getting so excited. They keep telling me about all the fruits that grow in the keys. They told me about these things called limes. They say they’re like lemons, but sweet. They want me to eat one for some reason. Peter is at least trying to wrangle them in for me. He told me I shouldn’t eat a lime, no matter what the rest say.”

“Peter only has two hands and he’s already got them full with Nikto breathing down his neck,” König grumbled, “I want Alice and Julia to step up and help him out.”

“Have you thought about marrying them off yet?” you asked.

“Marrying them off? Never!” König crossed his arms over his plated chest, “I won’t have it! My little girls won’t marry.”

“They’ll have to eventually,” you rubbed his sleeve tiredly, “it’s best to set them up soon.”

“But what if a man from another clan marries them? When would I ever see them? I can’t let them go like that.”

You tapped the ladle against the pot and put the spits of fish over the fire. You passed König a leather bag of raiding supplies and said, “If they are from the Sea Wolf clan up north or Miami down south, you could spend two months a year with them.”

“But that’s only two months!” König griped, “I don’t want to think of them being left alone for the rest of the year. How could I do that to them?”

“It’s better to marry them off to good matches than let someone else snatch them up,” you pointed out, “you wouldn’t want someone to take them like you took me, right?”

König nearly coughed up a lung before regaining his composure. He turned away from you as he quietly admitted, “No. No, I wouldn't want that.”

“So you’ll focus on getting them a match?” you poked him with the spoon.

König hung his head with a heavy sigh.

“I will try and find them a good husband. But I won’t go easy on those men,” he grumbled.

“Think of some good matches while you’re gone,” you said as you hugged your giant husband from behind, “I like that big blacksmith in the Sea Wolf settlement. He’d be good for Julia. She’s had her eye on him for a while.”

“She has poor taste. He’s an ugly man,” König huffed.

“He’s perfectly fine. He’s strong enough to take care of her, and I know she’d like to work with the forge. That, and he’s skilled enough with his weapons to keep her safe from any other man that tried to steal her,” you pointed out, “just talk to the girls about who they’re looking at. I’m sure they’d be glad to do so.”

König rolled his eyes. He pried you off him and slung his sack of provisions over his back before he tossed a bag of jerky from one hand to another. He sighed and let his arms drop to his sides. 

He turned around and pet your hair sadly, “It might be easier to build a vardo with the cedar up north, but I’m not going to make it easy on him,” König was quick to add, “he might handle hammers all day, but I’ve seen how he holds a knife.”

“The Sea Wolves have been carving totems since before society collapsed,” you smacked his shoulder, “now go. If you stay any longer I’ll cry.”

“Don’t you think I’d want you to cry for me?” König’s eyes twinkled merrily.

“Well I don’t want to, so go!”

With that you booted your cackling husband out the door.

Now that you were alone, you had plenty of time to work on chores around the carriage. You could probably mend all those coats with what little cloth you had left, but if the two youngest boys kept up their careless ways then you’d run out before you even come close to Miami. You just hoped they’d listen to you or König or maybe even Peter and try to be more careful. You couldn’t waste your supplies now, not when you were so close to the former lost city.

Miami was a strange settlement. You’d heard about it happening in other places, but Miami was the first city you knew of to be taken back after the collapse. How they managed to pull it off, you had no clue, but it was heralded as a spark of hope in the new world. It proved it could be done.

As it was, the convoy had just arrived near the lost city of Memphis, a lost city that had been completely abandoned since the collapse. That’s why König had to go out on the raid. He could sometimes ignore the calls for hunts along the trails, but he was always needed on the raids. Klaus had once told you that if he didn’t have König go, he’d lose six times the amount of men. As it was, he was unlucky if he lost one.

You heard that once, Memphis had been a bustling metropolis. People from all over the world would visit Memphis. For what, you had no clue, but it had been popular enough. You heard it was in a place called Texas or Tennassee (you could never remember), which was part of something even bigger though that name had long since been lost to time. As it was, Memphis was a shadow of what it had once been. What was once a place of abundance was destroyed overnight. 

You heard whispers of what happened. Some said that illness broke out among the cities across the world, others told you there was a vast network of turncoats who poisoned each and every city across the land. Another group insisted that the seas were once lower, and when they raised many had to flee to the mainland. Some told you that they had just collapsed under the weight of their own overabundance. All these stories were traded in hushed tones whenever the lost cities were so much as mentioned. Many had ideas as to what had happened, but the only ones with answers had died long ago. Whatever had happened they took to their grave, and if they’d told anyone, it had been forgotten long ago.

You’d never been in a lost city yourself. In fact you never intended to go into one, but you heard plenty from König and his team about what lay within.

König told you all about the giant metal buildings that crawled for miles up into the sky. Along the streets, he said you could grab metal cans that people had once discarded like trash in the plastic bags that blew through the air.  Apparently you could grab a bag off every street corner, they were that abundant. That’s what raiders usually used to transport the goods they found back to their supply wagons. König told you that from what he could tell, people once were so wasteful that entire landfills were piled with treasures. The cities were filled with metal and stone alongside bountiful wild animals that became fat off the leftovers. Some had trees growing along cracked paths of stone. Somehow, the ancient people had so much glass that they could use it to coat every window in the entire city. You had only ever seen such luxuries in the wealthiest settlements, like Miami. König told you that these cities were filled to the brim with treasures like woven carpets, bountiful clothes, wires and ropes aplenty. They were beacons of resources for anyone brave enough to go in.

Lost cities glistered, but they weren’t made of gold. There was a reason they were feared. 

The streets were filled with the mutated refugees, the only remnants of the people who once lived there. Supposedly, the water had been contaminated, and over the years the people who tried to live in the cities changed until they were almost entirely unrecognizable. They’d become strange, ferocious creatures with long limbs and longer claws, running and crawling through the rubble like the rats they feasted on. König told you that most of them were at most half the size of someone like you, with bloodless skin and not a hair on their hide. König told you that he’d carve them to eat, but he feared their flesh was diseased or cursed. He told you of how they were vicious, and even though many had limbs that were just stumps or flails of flesh, they could still be just as quick as a full-grown man and twice as lethal. As such, König told you he destroyed as many nests as he could to try and clear out the ruins and push deeper into the metal jungles.

Even though König and the caravans had been travelling for decades, barely a dent had been made in reclaiming the resources in what were once suburbs due to the sheer abundance of refugees that crept through the wastes. You just hoped that they’d stick to the cities and not crawl into the wilderness. As it was, you’d mostly been lucky. You’d only heard vague stories of some in the woods, and that was mostly from terrified mothers spanking their naughty children over their knee.

You knew König was probably the most reliable raider in KorTac, but you still worried whenever he left. You’d heard the twisted legends told around bonfires of how wicked and sadistic the refugees had become since the collapse. Some told stories of cannibalism, torture, even bestiality among other evils. They were every aspect of sickness that you could imagine. You heard that, even if they looked like beasts, they were still technically human beings. The only difference between you and them was the water you drank, or so you were told. They were animals, but they were still just as clever as human beings like you or König. They could still plan. They could make traps.

But as clever as the refugees were, König was smarter. He was too strong and fast for them to try and pin him down and he was far too careful to fall into their machinations. If the men worked in groups, he said, they were always safe. He tried to share his tips with the his men, but scant few listened to him before marching off. Unfortunate, because the ones who did listen always lived longer. Alas, in a world run by young men’s fragile egos, arrogance ran rampant. König said that once he had been devastated by the losses, but he’d since learned not to be bothered. He said he could not save men from themselves. You still mourned them, but with pride came hubris, and with hubris came the weeding of the weak.

With those thoughts in mind, the next day passed by easily. You knew König would come home soon. There was always a chance he didn’t, but you knew those chances were too low to worry about them. Of course, that didn’t mean you didn’t get worried or lonely.

You tended to try and focus on chores and friends when König was gone. You learned pretty quickly that if you finished all your tasks before König even started making his way home, it made his arrival all the sweeter. No distractions, no worries, just time to spend with König and your family. You figured he needed it as well. 

He always seemed a bit strange when he got back. Not terribly so, but sometimes he scared you. It was like he lost a bit of himself out there, something that took a while to return to him when he came back to your side. Sometimes he’d pull from your touch, other times he’d ravage you for days. If you were patient, your König would arrive a week later, and you could sleep easily at night.

You’d never had him return from a lost city, but you had the feeling whatever he experienced out on the hunts would be amplified a thousand fold when he returned. You just hoped that would be sooner than later.

Whenever König left, you felt vulnerable. 

You knew that KorTac was a more civilised clan than your own, but still, you worried. There was no reason to think that someone might try and steal you from König. Everyone knew anyone stupid enough to try would be torn apart by König’s bare hands. The few men who’d even whistled at you had been beaten into the earth before he would drag you back to your bed.

König still hoped that you’d soon be full with his child. He constantly reminded you that you’d both be better off for it. You didn’t think it was possible for it to take so soon after he’d taken you as his wife, but he insisted you keep trying. He told you it was best to keep you as a happy mama by his side. You figured it was part of it was a claiming ritual that men had in these clans. 

In your old clan, a married woman was never safe around men. It didn’t matter how long they had been by a man’s side if they killed him and took her as his wife. That’s how your stepfather had taken your own mother as his own, and by doing so had damned you and your siblings to depravity.

KorTac was different though.

In KorTac, killing another man was seen as one of the greatest evils you could enact on another. Murder was unthinkable to them. Here, the way men stole wives was not by killing their husband, but by stealing from them once their wives were left alone. It wasn’t uncommon to see raiders come home to empty caravans. However, men seemed to recognize a marriage once a woman was round with child. In fact, the KorTac clan men almost seemed to revere women at that point.

You saw how Salvatrice was protected by other men when her husband was unavailable and how she was cherished by the children that followed her through the encampment. You were jealous of her. You’d never tell her that, but it was an unspoken truth between you both. 

You’d watched what happened to Rozlin, a woman you spoke to over the well, when she became pregnant. One day she was labouring as she carried buckets of water, and then the moment her stomach had grown the men around her treated her with a newfound respect and approval. She now walked peacefully through wagons and spoke with a proud confidence. You’d even seen her order a gaggle of teens to help her carry buckets of water to her carriage. You’d never seen boys jump to a task faster.

You’d asked Nikto about it once, and he wouldn’t stop laughing until he’d collapsed onto a bale of hay, and even then tears still streamed behind his mask.

“Those boys think that if other women see how well they treat a married woman, they might be more interested in marrying them ,” Nikto practically giggled with glee, “they think us fathers will be impressed by them. If not us, then our daughters. They think by impressing our daughters they will try to encourage us to marry them off if they see how much they care about a woman in need. There’s this one young man, Micheal, that’s desperate for my Anya’s hand. He keeps trying to show her how strong he is by carrying water for Rozlin every Friday. 

“Anya tells me he stinks worse than my yaks, and that’s enough for me to make up my mind.”

After that, every time you watched those young men bend over backwards you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Still, they treated proven married women well. But unfortunately, not women like you. 

You still hadn’t had König’s child. Your womb was still empty. In their eyes, you were free for the taking, and though you’d shared your worries with König, he’d simply laughed.

He said that if anyone tried to take you from him, he’d kill them just like he killed the other man who tried. You told him he’d get banished but he shook his head.

“These people need me here,” König chuckled back then, “if they got rid of me, they’d all die. They know that. And so, they know not to take what’s mine.”

The men in this clan learned long ago to give you space since your first night with König. He’d looked positively pleased when rumours of your consummation together came back around to you.

You’d never been more humiliated when König’s close friend Kim had been laughing about not getting any sleep, but beside you König had never been prouder. As such, König stood taller as he gladly displayed you on his arm when he walked around the camp. Most men didn’t need another hint. You swallowed the humiliation as you looked into their knowing eyes, just happy they left you alone. If it cost Kim a night of sleep to stay safe, you’d do it in a heartbeat (and you did so often).

Unfortunately, that couldn’t be said for all of the men.

Saturday morning came, and you were woken by Darnell, the raiding party’s scout. He’d come to tell you that they were driving the supply cart back as quickly as they could as of last night. He grinned when you asked about König.

“Your husband is the one driving the cart,” Darnell chuckled, “he’s been keeping us awake at night because he won’t shut up about you.”

There was no way you could wipe the smirk off your face after that.

If König were to be arriving home, then you decided to put extra focus on cleaning the vardo for him. You took the time to wax the wood and brush the awning down for him before emptying the bed of old straw and refreshing it with new bedding. You went so far as to return early from the wells to make sure you finished your laundry early.

You had been cleaning your dresses and thinking about König when you heard a few men coming from afar.

You scrubbed your dresses over your washboard with new vigour when you heard a holler. At first you ignored them, but when you heard them closer to you, you stiffened and listened closely. When you could make out words coming from the yonder, you looked up.

You watched three young men slowly approach from afar. They held their heads high as they walked, oddly confident as they came your way. You wondered if they were part of the returning band of raiders. You looked around you to see if there was anyone else, but the carriages around you were quiet. It seemed König’s band of raiders still hadn’t returned. Based on the time, their wives would still be at the wells. As such, you were completely alone. You worried your lip and looked back at the newcomers.

You didn’t like how they were making their way directly to your vardo. They weren’t weaving around the lots to respect people’s personal space, they didn’t even seem to think about that at all. They were three young men who were clearly dead set on heading directly your way. You hoped they might be headed for someone else, but there was nobody behind you. Maybe they were looking for someone else, but something told you that wasn’t the case.

As the men approached, you heard one of them whistle.

“Hey!” the tallest one called out and waved one of his arms to grab your attention.

You squinted to try and make out his features. He didn’t look much older than twenty, if that. He was wearing armour. Maybe the raiders had come home.

“Hey!” he called again.

“Hey lady, my friend’s talking to you,” the dark haired one beside him chimed in.

You raised your hackles immediately. They were definitely headed your way. You looked down at the clothes in your hands and then back up at the oncoming men. You didn’t think you’d have enough time to get all the shirts off the clothesline. Still, you had to try. You didn’t want to lose your clean clothes without a good fight. It had taken you weeks to sew your latest dress.

“Hey lady,” the shortest one sing-songed, “make us a kettle, will ya? We’re thirsty from riding.”

You started packing up the wet shirts. Damn it all to Hell if they got musty, you needed to get inside.

“We know König’s not home. We passed him on the way here,” the dark haired one yelled.

“He’ll be home soon,” you snapped and ripped the shirts down. You hissed when you heard one rip.

“It’ll take an hour for the wagon to get unloaded,” the tall one lowered his yell to a call as he got closer, “he won’t be back for ages.”

“He’ll be back soon enough,” you replied as you plucked wet clothes from the line and dumped them in a wicker basket, “he’ll be eager to get home.”

“We got a large load back there. He’ll be busy for a while.”

“Stay away,” you warned them as you grabbed the basket off the grass.

The men picked up their pace.

You dashed to the door. Unfortunately, as soon as you tried to bring the basket up the steps it tipped over and your clothes were tossed all across the ground.

“Need some help there?” the boys were too close now.

You dropped the basket and leapt over it to duck into the vardo. You slammed the door shut behind you and slid the locking bar over the door frame. You managed to draw the shutters over the windows and locked them too. You heard them jostle the door as you slipped into the bedroom and latched the sliding door in place behind you. You cracked your bedroom window open just a crack as you burrowed under your side of the straw to listen in on them. You just hoped they wouldn’t notice.

“Hey! Open the door” you heard them yell.

You prayed they wouldn’t try anything stupid. It was one thing to steal a wife, but to go so far as to break into another man’s wagon was akin to social suicide in KorTac. You just hoped they cared enough about König and the chief’s wrath to stay outside. 

“Don’t make me do something I don’t want to,” you heard the tall one smack on the door again while the other two walked around the cabin to look for another way in. You couldn’t stop trembling beneath the sweltering furs. You tried to place the boys, but nothing rang a bell. You knew they must’ve been in König’s raiding group. The armour they wore was of good quality, and they knew the wagon was back.

“Aren’t you worried about König coming back?” you heard one ask, “he likes her a lot, and you know he’s not above killing people.”

“If we’re lucky, he won’t be back at all,” another one piped up, “the others will have dealt with him.”

You hoped König would leave early. Sometimes he did so if he wanted to see you badly enough.

“Hey lady! Come on out!” you heard one of them slamming on the front door, “if you come out now, we won’t bust up your wagon.”

There was no way they were going to actually break into somebody’s wagon. Especially not König’s. That was practically unheard of.

“If you come out now we’ll be nice to you,” you heard one circling out around the back of the caravan.

You tried to think about what you had to protect yourself with in the cupboards. You had a pot, a wok, a frying pan, a spatula, and a wooden spoon, too. You knew you had a good set of cooking knives, but you didn’t know how to fight with one. Not against raiders, at least. You’d be disarmed in an instant if you tried.  König had shown you that himself when you asked him why he let you have knives.

If they were of König’s band, then he would’ve trained them with weapons himself. You had no chance against these men.

You looked up at the ceiling of the bedroom. The top hatch was still unlocked. 

Shit. 

If you got up now, you were sure they’d figure out where you were and break in and drag you out. But, if they found a way on top, it would be too easy to get in and take you in your own home. You were damned either way.

You hoped and prayed that König would come home soon.

The boys took to slapping the walls of your vardo as they circled it to try and figure out where you were inside. You just hoped they wouldn’t notice the hidden ladder at the top of the back corner.

König had installed the ladder in case you got raided at night. The irony of a safety feature being the reason you’d be caught wasn’t lost on you in the slightest If they found the ladder, you were sure you’d be done for. You hoped König had hidden it well when he set up the camp site.

You tried to think about your options. 

Did you promise to meet anyone today? Was Peter going to come by? You hoped he would. He always liked to make sure his father was safe when he came back. Peter was a big boy, almost as big as his father. He wasn’t quite as tall, but he was broader than König for sure. König always pinched his cheek and told him it was baby fat, but these boys wouldn’t know the difference. Surely they’d be scared off by the threat of muscle.

If Peter wouldn’t come, then maybe Salvatrice might. She always liked to chat with König after a raid. He hated when she came by so quickly after he’d come home, but you’d rather have her there to help take care of you when König was in his wild mind. It amused you to see König seethe while she gave you the latest gossip from the doctor’s tent. She was one of the few people who was strong enough to face down König.

Then again, if she came around, the men might turn their sights on her. You were strong, so was Salvatrice, but you didn’t think the two of you could fend off three men, especially if they were trained raiders. These boys would’ve been trained to fight while being outnumbered. Two against three was far easier than what they were used to.

Why König’s own raiders would turn against him was beyond you. Had he done something to upset them? They had to know that if they stole you, they’d risk being banished from their raider band. König couldn’t get them banished, but he was close enough to chief Klaus that he could tip his hand and Klaus would have to act. They’d be lucky if they were even allowed to be traders once your husband was finished with them. 

Were you really worth losing all they had?

You gasped when they slapped the wagon right beside your head. You covered your mouth and quivered under the furs.

“Did you hear something?” one of them asked.

They slammed the spot again.

The group was silent. You felt yourself sweating bullets as you waited for them to move on. 

Just move on, you prayed, you didn’t hear anything. 

Just when you thought they might have gone, they slammed the spot again. This time you kept your mouth shut.

You waited.

“She’s not on this side,” one of them muttered.

You felt yourself  sag into the furs as you let out a silent breath in relief. You were safe, but only just. How long would it be until you were found? How long until they found the ladder? The fact they hadn’t found it by now was a miracle.

Just as you thought of the ladder again, there was a shout from outside.

Was that?

The sound of someone charging at the trailer had your heart swell in your chest. 

You heard the person yell again and you cried out in relief.

“Wait, she was right here!”

It was too late for them though

König’s here.

You heard your husband bellow in a strange language and the three men bolted away.

Metal clattered outside as he rushed to the door. The door jostled in its frame. You jumped up as you heard a heavy fist slamming the door.

You heard your husband yell something in a foreign language, curse, and try again,“OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!” 

You pushed the sliding door aside and grabbed the security board. 

From outside, you heard his voice crack, “Please… Please tell me you’re in there…”

You swung it up and pushed the door open.

König crowded you into the carriage as he stepped inside. He pushed you up against his bookshelf as his wild eyes scanned over you.

You trembled as he took you in. The sacks strapped to his back made him look bigger than ever before as his chest heaved heavily. His blue eyes looked red at the rims, his mask billowed out as he panted. He grabbed at your chin and tilted your face side to side roughly.

“Did they touch you?” he snapped as he grabbed roughly at your clothes.

“No they didn’t,” you swatted his hands away, “I got inside before they got too close.”

König caged you in with his arms and leaned over you. He raised his mask to reveal his lower jaw and grabbed your face to kiss you. He tasted of dirt and grime as he forced his tongue in your mouth and claimed you. You hit his chest as he stole your breath, only pulling back once your legs started to shake. 

He kissed you again and leaned his helmeted forehead against yours.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice shook painfully.

“We didn’t know this could happen,” you replied as your emotions bubbled forth, “just… Please don’t leave me again.”

“I-” König sniffed, “I have to. You know I can’t stay behind. They won’t let me. But… I can promise you I won’t let this happen again.”

“How though?” you shook as shock cleared from your mind.

König dug his head into the crook of your neck, rubbing you like a cat.

“I’ll figure something out,” he whispered before pulling back to kiss your forehead, “I promise I will. This will never, ever happen again.”

“But what if it does?” you slung your arms around his neck.

“It won’t,” he assured you, “I’ll kill every man and woman in this entire clan if that’s what it takes to keep you safe. I’ll do anything for my little wife.”

You pulled him in to kiss him, this time gentle and loving. His snarled lips pressed against yours with a tenderness unbefitting his goliath form. He caressed your jaw and hummed warmly, soaking in your affections.

But König was a man, and men were greedy. He pulled back with hunger in his eyes. The terror of the day caught up to you both in one fell swoop. He was losing control, and so were you.

“Make me yours,” you kissed him again, “I don’t want any other man ever looking at me again.”

He heaved his bags off his shoulders and devoured you whole.

[Smut can be read on KoFi HERE]

König petted your sides and yawned as he stretched in the bed. It seemed he could finally relax now that you were resting by his side.

“How long were you been trapped in here?” König played with the hair on the back of your neck.

“About an hour or two I think,” you felt tingles travelling down your spine as he worked his fingers through the ends of the strands, “I don’t know. I was just waiting for you to come home.”

“So they left as soon as we started unloading the supply wagon,” he murmured.

He grumbled something under his breath and kissed you again.

“I couldn’t have come at a better time,” he brought his palm to your cheek, “I’m so happy you’re still here.”

You kissed his wrist and held his hand, “I’m happy you’re home.”

König wrapped you into another hug. He rubbed your back and wrapped his other arm around your bare skin and pulled you close. He glanced at the sliding door and sighed.

“I’ll give you what I found later.”

“You found something for me?” you smiled.

“I always find something for my little wife,” König smirked, “it’s just hard to figure out what I can lay claim to at the end of the trip.”

“Can’t you take whatever you want?” you cracked your back, “you’re the raider captain.”

“Within limit,” König corrected you gently, “but I found a nice rug for the carriage, and some toys for our new baby.”

“I’m not even pregnant yet,” you laughed.

“Not yet,” König gripped your hip and pulled you against him, “it won’t be long though. I want this. You’ll be knocked up soon, little mama.”

You laughed and shook your head. You let yourself soak in his warmth, so hot it made you sleepy just lying against him. You felt your eyes grow heavy.

Before you closed your eyes, you felt König squirm.

“Not yet,” you warned him.

“I’m not thinking about that,” König replied, “I’m just wondering what happened outside.”

“What do you mean?”

“What happened with all these shirts?”

You laughed, “I dropped the basket when I rushed inside.”

König sighed and kissed you again.

“I was so worried when I saw them,” he said, “I thought… I thought they might have taken you already.”

“I’m still here,” you took his hand from your neck to kiss the inside of his wrist, “you don’t have to worry.”

König grunted, “I won’t when you’re with my child.”

“Well, until then, you’ll just have to trust me,” you snuggled into the blankets, “I’m yours forever.”

König settled into the beds with a sigh.

“And I am yours.”

König was quick to figure out who the teens were. More disturbingly, he’d uncovered their plan. As it turned out, there were seven in on it. Three were meant to take you, and four were meant to steal the supply wagon. It seemed they wanted to start their own clan by taking you and stealing König’s wagon and the supply wagon and traveling back west. How they intended to share you between the seven of them wasn’t quite clear. Men that age didn’t typically think things through that far.

Luckily, the four meant to take on König reconsidered at the last moment and told König about the plan. He was enraged, but grateful they’d thought better of trying to take you from him.

König was more than happy to dole out punishments for the men. Klaus had stripped them of their raiding titles, but not before König had his way with them. You didn’t ask too much about it when he’d come home late three nights later. All you knew was that he was eerily happy, and it was better to not ask any questions. When you saw one of the men months later, he hid from your sight as soon as he saw you.

You learned later that the men targeted you because they thought that you’d make a good breeding wife. Once König learned why they targeted you, he had been more keen than ever to fill you with his child. The next time your cycle was meant to come, he was relentless. You had been exhausted by the end of it, but you couldn’t be happier. A part of you worried that it might not take though. You were worried that you’d been so stressed over the past month that you hadn’t bled. You worried you were sick, because you couldn’t stop throwing up. Every morning you’d have to hurry out of the carriage, lest you get sick into the good blankets.

When you told König, he seemed to be of a different opinion. 

The next morning, König had been unusually keen to drag you to Salvatrice’s husband. He shoved you into a dress and dragged you out the door before you could even brush your teeth.

“König, I’m telling you that I’m alright,” you grumbled as he eagerly carried you over to the medical wagon, “and I can walk just fine.”

“I like carrying my little wife,” he cooed as you swatted him irritably.

“The walk is good for me,” you huffed.

“And carrying you is good for me too,” König laughed and cuddled you into his chest.

You weakly slapped his chest and settled into his arms. He chuckled as he walked to the medical tent in the center of the camp, humming nursery songs and rocking you fondly. You would smack him harder if you knew he wouldn’t drop you. 

Once you got to the center of the camp, you heard a voice from behind.

König happily turned as he adjusted your weight in his arms.

“Ho there, König!” the bearded man held up a hand.

“Hallo Klaus!” König warmly greeted the chief.

“What’re you doing with your wife? Are you alright?” Klaus asked as he sauntered over.

“König thinks I’m sick,” you groaned.

“My little wife is sick,” König chirped.

Klaus looked between you both and chortled merrily. He put his fists on his waist and looked up at his second-in-command with a big grin, “So have you told her the big news?”

König’s eyes widened.

You glared at your husband irritably. 

“What news?” you growled.

“The news about König and me,” Klaus pointed his thumbs to his chest with a wide grin.

“König’s told me nothing,” you snapped.

“He’s told you nothing?” Klaus shook his head, “you know, if you’re going to be the next chief, you really need to work on your communications skills.”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your skull as you looked up at König.

“I was going to tell you,” König huffed, “eventually. Really, I’m surprised you hadn’t heard about it before. Salvatrice is always telling you the latest gossip. I know because you always tell me what she told you.”

“I mean, she might’ve told me. It sounds familiar, but I didn’t really think it was true.

“But wait, why are you going to be chief?” you asked as you turned back to look at Klaus.

“I’m leaving the caravan,” Klaus chuckled, “once we get to Miami, I’m staying there. I was only meant to be a temporary chief anyways. I swore to look after KorTac until we got to the south, and then the title would go to the next chief in line, which was König. He just didn’t want to be chief immediately after his father died.”

You tilted your head to the side, “Why are you staying in Miami?”

Klaus grinned, “I found a good match down south! I figured it might be nice to settle down in the big city. Her father didn’t want her to travel, so I decided I’d give up the nomad life and settle down in one place.”

“But Miami?” you raised a brow.

“It’s warm,” he shrugged, “better than the Sea Wolves up north. It’s always raining there,” he shivered, “that, and I’d rather somewhere nice with lots of fruit. I can’t get enough of those oranges!”

“Wait, so oranges come from the south?” you asked eagerly.

“The south has tons of oranges!” Klaus cheered, “you can get oranges in anything down there! Oranges on their own are great, but there’s so much you can do with them. Marmalade, orange muffins, orange bread, orange juice, even orange candies and candied oranges! It’s great!”

Your mouth watered at the thought. You eagerly tugged on König’s sleeve, “Can we get some more orange candies?”

“You had candied oranges,” König quipped.

“Whatever,” you huffed and playfully smacked his chest, “you know what I mean.”

“Well…” König shifted you into one arm and scratched his chin under his mask, “if you don’t complain about going to the doctor, I could consider trading for some candied oranges.”

You nodded stoically, “Then my lips are sealed.”

König laughed and hugged you close to his chest.

“Careful König,” Klaus said, “you wouldn’t want to give her an actual reason to see the doctor.”

König rolled his eyes and turned to the medical cart, “Well Klaus, it was good seeing you. I need to get my little wife to the medic.”

Klaus waved goodbye and walked away, leaving you alone with König at the doctor’s tent.

“So you’re really going to be the chief of KorTac now?” you asked.

“Only once we leave Miami,” König said, “but we’re trying to keep it quiet for now, ja? You can keep a secret, my little wife?”

“I mean, if Salvatrice knows, don’t think it’s a secret anymore,” you mused as König stooped through the door and let you down..

You heard a couple of glass bottles rattling and something clanging to the floor before a man popped out of the corner.

“Hello?” he said nervously, “what’re you two doing here?” His eyes narrowed, “König, is this about-”

“König thinks I’m pregnant because I missed my last cycle and I keep throwing up. I think I’m sick and I keep telling him that I’ve just been stressed,” you rolled your eyes.

König leaned into the doctor’s ear and muttered something. As soon as he did, the doctor’s eyes widened and he gave you an excited smile.

“Well… I think I could figure out what’s happened here. I mean, there are really only a few possible options,” the doctor laughed to himself before turning around, “if you could just…” he pulled out a small cup, “give me a glass of your urine, I think I can do a simple test. It’s not perfect, but it’s what I’ve got.”

“You want me to piss in a cup?” you snorted.

“If the doctor tells you to piss in the cup, you will piss in the cup,” König grumbled over your shoulder. 

You gave him a dirty look.

“If you don’t want to do that, I have another option,” the doctor offered, “but I will still need your urine.

“Hold on, I just need to grab a couple of bags.”

You watched as he rummaged through his tent. He threw burlap sacks and wooden boxes onto the floor as he muttered and puttered about, evidently getting more and more frustrated as he worked.

While he worked, you heard someone push through the leather flap and turned to see Salvatrice walk in. She glanced between you, König and her husband.

“Hello?” she asked nervously.

“Ah, Salv!” the doctor cheered, “you wouldn’t happen to know where the wheat and barley seeds are, would you?”

Salvatrice’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. She grabbed you and König and clapped you both on the shoulder.

“Good job you two! I knew it wouldn’t take long with König, but I still didn’t expect it so soon!” she cheered while her husband groaned.

“Don’t say it yet,” he sighed, “we need to do tests first.”

“Alright, alright,” she rolled her eyes, “you need the seeds or the toad?”

Within half an hour, you’d been brought out to a nearby field with a bag of barley seeds in one hand and a bag of wheat seeds in the other.

“So I need to piss on these,” you crossed your arms over your chest before you turned to glare at König, “is this why you didn’t let me use the bathroom this morning?”

König nodded eagerly, “I asked the doctor about it earlier and he told me this was his best test. Well, that or injecting a toad with urine.”

“Is that why you needed the glass?” you shuddered.

The doctor held up his hands in a shrug.

“At least this is better than hurting a poor toad,” you muttered.

You rolled your eyes and looked around. You glared at the trio of onlookers.

“Can I at least have a bit of privacy please?”

Within two weeks König had taken to carrying you wherever he went. He was relentless. As soon as the bags of seeds had sprouted, König had decided then and there that you were pregnant.

“It’s only seventy percent accurate,” you grumbled.

“Well we have to wait a bit longer for the next test,” König said eagerly.

“The next test?”

“The doctor will just need to lift your dress and-”

“No.”

You sighed as you sat back heavily on the bench. The Miami heat was killing you. König put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.

“You need a rest, Mama?” he laughed.

“I’m fine,” you grumbled as you tried to get up again.

König gently pushed you back down and grabbed a blanket for you.

“You need to rest, Mama,” he laughed as he scooched into the bench beside you and wrapped an arm over your shoulders.

“Stop calling me that,” you huffed, “I’m not a mom yet.”

“Soon!” König cheered and clapped your shoulder, “you know, I didn’t think it would take so easily…”

“You filled me for a week straight,” you groaned, “you were impossible.”

“And I can’t wait to do it again,” he kissed the tip of your nose.

“I’m only one woman,” you patted your stomach, “I don’t know how many babies I can have if they’re all like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like this!” you gestured to your bump, “look at how big this is!”

“It’s only a bit bigger than average-”

“Salvatrice told me I looked like a blimp. I don’t even know what a blimp is!” you rubbed your temples, “if all your babies are this big then I’m going to need some serious time to recover after each one of these giants.”

König narrowed his eyes, “I can accept that.”

“The doctor said I’m due in a couple of months, but it’s not fast enough,” you rubbed your stomach, “I just want this out.”

“He can take all the time he needs. If he needs to wait until we’re back on the road, then so be it,” König patted your stomach lovingly.

“I’m the one carrying it here,” you snapped, “I think I should be the one who decides when she comes out.”

“Sadly, little mamas don’t get a choice,” König patted your shoulder sympathetically as he looked down at your stomach. He leaned in and kissed your cheek before patting your bump.

“You can act cute, but I’m still mad at you,” you said bitterly.

“You can be as mad as you want,” König laughed as he stood up, “now look, what can I get to make you feel a bit better?”

You glared down at the table.

“Ah, of course,” König patted your head, “let me get your little treat for you. Now, close your eyes.”

You sighed and covered your eyes. König had decided that since your pregnancy hormones hit, you couldn’t be trusted to know where the candies were. You would’ve been angrier if he weren’t right.

“Open,” König stooped into view.

You held out your hand for your ‘little treat’, as König put it. As soon as it was in your hand you were nibbling on it.

“You look so cute with your little oranges,” König laughed, “little oranges for my little Maus!”

“Maus?”

“Maus! It means mouse in my home land,” König explained.

You nodded and continued nibbling. You briefly put it down as curiosity got the better of you.

“König, where do you actually come from?” you asked quietly, “you don’t sound like you come from anywhere we’ve been.”

König sat down on the bench with a grunt, “I come from a small place overseas. It was in central Europe, in a place that used to be called Austria. Not long before I was born, a horrible famine broke out near my settlement. It was mostly contained to one settlement, but then a group of merchants spread it to all the settlements around, including my own. It was devastating. So, seeing as I’d just turned old enough to marry, my family took the chance to move overseas. It was a hard trip to get to the coast, but I think it made me like living in a wagon. In the end, even a long journey over the continent and a month-long ship where we nearly died of scurvy was better than starving in a shitshack back home. At least here we had a chance to live.”

“I’m impressed you survived,” you mused.

“Most didn’t,” König agreed, “but myself and a few did. We decided on that ship that when we arrived, we would make a name for ourselves. That’s also where I met my first wives. My first wife was pregnant when we landed, and the second not long after that. To establish ourselves, we travelled south and took over this clan about… Oh, nearly two decades ago?”

“Is that why this clan became so strong in the past twenty years?” you asked.

“It was hard work, but we had a good trade route to develop off of. After my father took over we then made some good trade deals with some major settlements and, well, I think you know the rest,” König explained, “funnily enough, as we were travelling from my home to the coast, that’s when I became a raider. I started raiding with the other men and I fell in love with it. But those cities were different from the ones here. Hell, I can still remember the taste of the air in the lost cities back then. They were far worse than anything you’ll find over here,” his face fell, “far, far worse. Lost cities are practically a walk in the park here compared to the ones back home. It was in one of those lost cities that I got all these…” he gestured to his masked face and clothed body, “all these.”

You gently took his hand and squeezed it, “I’m glad you made it over.”

König leaned down to give you a swift kiss, “I’m glad I did too.”

You let yourself rest back in your seat. König adjusted the blanket around you before standing back and giving you a look.

“What?”

“Do you want to lay down and rest for a bit?” König asked.

You looked down at the blanket and then sighed, “Yeah.”

König grinned and swept you up in his arms before plopping you down in your bed. He happily climbed in after you and shut the door behind you.

He pulled you into his chest and held you in a tight hug before releasing you with a kiss on the forehead.

You laid on your side and held your stomach woefully, “I can’t get comfortable anymore.”

“Do you want to rest inbetween my legs?” König asked, already spreading his legs to make room for you.

You rolled into the space he made and rested your head down on his lap. You snuggled in close and closed your eyes as König wrapped the blankets over top of you. He easily made a little nest around the two of you and tucked you in tightly.

“König?” you muttered sleepily.

“Yes, my little wife?” he replied with a grin.

“I love you,” you said as you snuggled in closer.

König brushed your hair and hummed comfortably, “I love you too, mama.”

The rain pitter-pattered down onto the wagon as you sat outside with König. He adjusted the wood awning above you again and adjusted the reigns in his hand. In your arms, your newborn slept peacefully. You leaned into König’s side with a sigh.

“She’s so cute when she’s sleeping,” König mused as he looked down at you both.

“She’s always cute,” you fussed with her wool blanket, unable to stop the smile creeping across your face.

König sighed peacefully. The mountains of the north were finally coming into view in the distance. It wouldn’t be more than a couple of days before they entered the Sea Wolf settlement. You were already looking forward to sampling some of their renowned smoked salmon. You’d been wanting to try it ever since König had told you about it on your way down south to Miami. If you were lucky, there might even be some bread and yogurt to have it with when you arrived. König swore that it was perfect when you had something to go with it. You still had some crackers from the prairies that you’d been saving for the trip.

You took in a deep breath, the smell of fresh rain hitting the back of your throat. In the distance blue and purple clouds were hung up in the grey sky by wire hooks. From them fell a rain so light it might as well have been mist. The cool clung to you wherever you went when you travelled in these lands. You were already having to guide your wagon through the giant cedar forests, sometimes even going through a tunnel carved into a  tree. You marvelled at the world around you as you travelled.

“Maybe Klaus had the right idea,” you mused.

“What do you mean?” König asked.

“He went down to Miami for his new wife,” you yawned.

“You’re not telling me you want to give up on travelling already,” König scoffed.

“I mean, it’s nice here, isn’t it?” you asked.

“You’ve never experienced a winter here,” König pointed out as he guided the oxen around a steep hill, “it gets snow. Not much, but still snow.”

“We got a lot of that in the prairies when my old clan went south,” you said.

“But we get the best weather wherever we go if we stay on the road,” König slung an arm around you and tugged you in close to his side, “we go north in the summer and south in the winter. I heard people used to do that before the collapse.”

“Did they?”

“They called those people 'snowbirds’,” König pressed a kiss to your temple, “I’m just glad that wherever I go, I still have you.”

“If you didn’t, you’d be helpless,” you snorted.

“I managed just fine before you,” König rolled his eyes.

“Could you go back to that life after you’ve had me here?”

König hummed and slackened the reins, “Maybe not.”

“So then it’s a good thing I’m here.”

“It is a good thing,” König agreed.

Your bodies rocked with the motion of the cart rolling over the exposed stones along the forest floor. You glanced down at your daughter and sighed. She was still asleep.

“You can go and rest in the cart, you know,” König offered, “I’ve driven these roads alone for many years.”

“Would you prefer I left you alone?” you raised a knowing eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t prefer it,” König rubbed your shoulder, “I just know it’s cold and wet out here this time of year. I don’t want you or the baby catching a cold.”

“She has a name, you know.”

“I know,” König laughed, “I just… She’s my baby, ja? Just like you’re Mama.”

“Well, if Papa needs a break driving the cart, just let me know,” you kissed his chin through the mask.

“Are you going in then?” König asked.

“No, silly,” you nuzzled in close, “I’m just saying that I could do it if you needed a break. Anyways, it’s nicer out here.”

“In the cold and rain?” König snorted.

“With you,” you retorted.

He hummed and rubbed your shoulder comfortably.

The cart rolled along slowly and steadily. The rest of the convoy followed along, all patiently waiting to get to the next settlement. Little did anyone know that König couldn’t be more excited for the trip. He heard that the Sea Wolf settlement had made some recent developments over the past few months. Supposedly, another tradeline had been established with a far off colony in the east. As one of their preferred trading partners, KorTac would be getting first pick at their new wares. König looked forward to browsing through the new stock, grabbing some to trade and a few extra goods to spoil you rotten with. It had been years since the last route had collapsed under the weight of poor management. When it had been running, he’d been able to get his hands on rare carved statues and precious silk bedding. He wondered if those old paper fans had been brought back, or those giant clay pots. Those he liked the most. They were fantastic for storage.

König grinned to himself. He’d won in life. He found a good wife, he was a chief of a strong trading clan, and he had a wonderful family to call his own. He’d made a true name for himself in these lands, one to be honored throughout the ages. His heart swelled with joy.

Little did König know that right beside him, you were thinking much the same.

You’d spent years in the cruelest conditions known in the land. You’d stolen to survive and been shunned by your own clan. Back then, there was never a night that went by where your stomach didn’t ache from hunger pains. You were always struggling in one way or another.

But all that changed. Months ago, when König had stolen you away from your home, you’d figured that your life would be spent slaving away for an ungrateful man who only wanted food in his belly and a hole for his cock. 

You couldn’t have been more wrong. 

You’d been blessed to have a husband that truly loved to provide for you. He adored seeing you and your baby smile and laugh. He fought tirelessly to see to it that everyone he loved was well cared for, including you.

You’d been brought up to think that men were cruel, calloused, lazy. Men were creatures of greed and wrath in these lands. They were harbingers of suffering that thought only of their lusty desires and their lofty ambitions. Men were monsters, and that was that.

But not all men were monsters. 

Some men were kind and loving, helpful and honest and true. König was one such man. He was your gentle giant, your loving husband. He ensured that your every want was catered to. You never had to ask for much, as König provided what you desired before you could even think to ask him for it.

You smiled and held your baby close. You could finally say you lived a good life.

Konig Dump

Konig Alternate Universes

Full Version on KoFi HERE

[ryuu242]

something about Ryōshū and Yoshihide

[might be a bit offensive, most is personal thought about Yoshihide and how PM build Ryōshū at the moment]

As someone who love Ryōshū, me and my friend wanted to make this post

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In Jigoku hen (Hell’s Screen), Yoshihide is a peculiar, arrogant, and conceited painter who looks down on all rules and traditions. He’s someone who cast away the Five Constants 五常 ( 義 justice, 禮 politeness, 智 wisdom, 信 fidelity and 仁 benevolence) to pursue art.

「あゝ、これでございます、これを描く為めに、あの恐ろしい出来事が起つたのでございます。又さもなければ如何に良秀でもどうしてかやうに生々と奈落の苦艱が画かれませう。

あの男はこの屏風の絵を仕上げた代りに、命さへも捨てるやうな、無惨な目に出遇ひました。云はゞこの絵の地獄は、本朝第一の絵師良秀が、自分で何時か墜ちて行く地獄だつたのでございます.... 。」

“It was for this reason, indeed, his consuming desire to paint this picture, that the terrible incident occurred. If it had not been for this event, how could even Yoshihide have succeeded in painting that graphic picture of the tortures and agonies in Hell? 

So, he could complete the picture, his life had to come to a miserable end. Indeed, it was to this very Hell in his picture, that Yoshihide, the greatest painter in Japan, had condemned himself.”

In the game, Ryōshū is depicted almost exactly the same way, if not more explicitly deranged than the original. There are numerous moments in the game that describe her eyes lighting up when she starts “painting” or marveling at piles of [censored] meats while exclaiming in delight.

You don’t even have to look so far—just read the uptie story of Warp Corp. Ryōshū. It vividly portrays her happiness and joy in cleaning up the hellscape created by centuries of despair-driven madness. I'll even quote here

"I get to visit a museum, an exhibition featuring brand-new pieces of art every single day. All that for a bit of physical labor."

"When this train that people take without giving it a second thought, every single day...Turned out to be a gallery of arts, sculpted with chisels of time! While I was impressed with how well they were hiding this truth from the public... three words came to mind. This. Is. It.

" In hindsight, I was so absorbed with chasing after and creating my own art "

"One that wrapped its flesh around the plush side of the seat, embodying a new chair with extra cushioning...One that is an amalgam of many, taking the shape of a new organism and lurching on... Though I wouldn't classify that as 'art'. Not yet."

"Shambling without intent is… in the end, insufficient to be called art. It is incomplete at best. I butcher them. Because the company ordered me to make them easier to clean up. To interfere with the process of involuntary art isn't to my liking, no… But that doesn't happen very often. Besides, there is plenty to be gained from the rest."

If that’s doesn't prove much, in the opening moments of the game, she’s visibly enjoying watching people get tossed into a bus to be crushed into fuel, while Sinclair is terrified, and Dante is questioning the morality of what’s happening.

With such evidence, there’s no way to claim her sadistic tendencies are just a façade or mask—it’s her bare essence. And that’s without even touching on her masochistic tendencies, which honestly make Yoshihide seem tame in comparison when it comes to twisted and warped personalities.

Ryōshū and Yoshihide are both artists consumed by blind, inescapable devotion to their craft. They are the kind of people who would willingly open the gates of hell and hurl themselves inside. They are also inevitably doomed to fall into Avīci Hell.

And as for being sad? Was Jigoku hen supposed to be a tragic tale of a father losing his daughter? Was Yoshihide meant to be a character that evokes sympathy for his suffering? Absolutely and definitely not.

Yoshihide himself opened the gates of hell and threw himself in—no one pushed him. He discarded the Five Constants and trampled over human lives in the name of art.

「檳榔毛の車にも火をかけよう。又その中にはあでやかな女を一人、上﨟のをさせて乗せて遣はさう。炎と黒煙とに攻められて、する、車―それを描かうと思ひついたのは、流石に天下第一の絵師ぢや。褒めてとらす。おゝ褒めてとらすぞ」

"A charming woman dressed up like a court lady shall ride in the carriage. Writhing amidst the deadly flames and black smoke, the lady in the carriage will die in agony. Your suggestion of finding such a model for your picture does you full credit as the greatest painter in the whole country. I praise you. I praise you highly."

What Yoshihide receives at the end of the story is the consequence of his own actions. In the end, he finishes painting the hellish screen—only after watching his beloved daughter burn alive before his eyes—and then hangs himself. The masterpiece he created was painted with the agony of witnessing his daughter’s death, and yet, just moments after despair, he finds joy and radiance in it. At his core, Yoshihide is still a painter who sacrifices goodness for the sake of beauty.

He’s no different from his original inspiration, Ryōshū in Uji Shūi Monogatari (Tales of a Rainy Night), who took delight in watching his house burn, his wife and children still inside. Akutagawa’s addition of a sense of love and grief in Yoshihide is a form of punishment—because while the original Ryōshū lost his humanity, Yoshihide still feels pain, which haunts him after completing his masterpiece.

「その火の柱を前にして、凝り固まつたやうに立つてゐる良秀は― 何と云ふ不思議な事でございませう。あのさつきまで地獄の責苦に悩んでゐたやうな良秀は 、今は云ひやうのない輝きを、さながら恍惚とした法悦の輝きを、皺だらけな満面に浮べながら、大殿様の御前も忘れたのか、両腕をしつかり胸に組んで、佇んでゐるではございませんか。

それがどうもあの男の眼の中には、娘の悶え死ぬ有様が映つてゐないやうなのでございます。唯美しい火焔の色と、その中に苦しむ女人の姿とが、限りなく心を悦ばせる― さう云ふ景色に見えました。」

"In front of the pillar of fire, Yoshihide stood still, rooted to the ground. What a wonderful transfiguration he had undergone! A mysterious radiance, a kind of blissful ecstasy, showed on the wrinkled face of Yoshihide who had been agonized by the tortures of hell until a minute before.

His arms were tightly crossed on his chest as if he had forgotten that he was in the presence of the Grand Lord. No longer did his eyes seem to mirror the image of his daughter's agonized death. His eyes seemed to delight beyond measure in the beautiful color of the flame and the form of the woman writhing in her last infernal tortures."

Because of how Jigoku hen is written, readers are left with the impression that “Yoshihide, despite his twisted nature, still has humanity.” But they forget how much pleasure he took in watching his daughter burn. Now they project what they read onto Ryōshū… even though the game hasn’t explored her backstory? So far, the game hasn’t dropped a single hint about Ryōshū’s backstory. She remains one of the most mysterious sinners on the bus. None of the uptie stories for her IDs provide even a shred of evidence that she’s secretly melancholic like Gregor.

What we can confirm is that she cherishes her sword, has some connection to the Five Fingers, and always speaks up when the topic of family comes up. Using the original work as a basis to interpret a character is fine but announcing your personal interpretation as fact while accusing others of not understanding the character is like running ahead of the car you're supposed to be riding.

Ryōshū, Sinner No. 4 of Limbus Company, is a violence-loving mystery of a character with shady connections, an artist who finds beauty in the grotesque. While this is not the entirety of her character, it is who she is. 

Ryōshū is Ryōshū—not Don Quixote or Rodion with a mask slapped on.

Liking her for her violent and twisted nature doesn’t make you a fool. It’s not the same as liking someone and then realizing the person you admired was merely putting on an act or presenting a beautiful façade. If PM later explores a more humanizing or empathetic aspect of Ryōshū, your reaction would likely be, “Oh, so Ryōshū still has humanity/she also has this side to her?” There might be some surprises, but it definitely wouldn’t feel like being deceived.

Even though I’m pretty sure most of the Ryōshū’s shrimp pond will continue simping for her because of her twisted nature as it is now. Either way, even if Ryōshū is shown to have humanity, she’ll still be Ryōshū—she’ll still turn people into a heap of [CENSORED] and call it art. That’s also how Akutagawa described Yoshihide up until the moment he ceased to live.

From start to finish, Yoshihide was always the blind painter single-mindedly pursuing his art, to the point that even his last shred of humanity couldn’t overcome his identity as an artist. As some analysts point out, the last remnants of Yoshihide’s humanity were burned away with the monkey that threw itself into the flames after his daughter.

「さうして朱塗のやうな袖格子がばらくと焼け落ちる中にのけ反つた娘の肩を抱いて、帛を裂くやうな鋭い声を、何とも云へず苦しさうに、長く煙の外へ飛ばせました。続いて又、二声三声 ― 私たちは我知らず、あつと同音に叫びました。

壁代のやうな焔を後にして、娘の肩に縋つてゐるのは、堀河の御邸に繋いであつた、あの良秀と諢名のある猿だつたのでございますから。」

“Amidst the burned crimson-lacquered lattice which was crumbling in pieces, it put it hands on the warped shoulders of the girl, and gave, out of the screens of black smoke, a long and piercing shriek of intense grief like the tearing of silk, then again two or three successive screams. Involuntarily we gave a unanimous outcry of surprise. 

What was holding fast to the shoulders of the dead girl, with the red curtain of blazing flames behind it, was the monkey, which went by the nickname of Yoshihide at the mansion of Horikawa.”

「その猿が何処をどうしてこの御所まで、忍んで来たか、それは勿論誰にもわかりません。が、日頃可愛がつてくれた娘なればこそ、猿も一��よに火の中へはひつたのでございませう。」

"No one knew how the monkey had managed to sneak into the palace. But one thing was certain: because the girl had always been kind to it, the monkey had chosen to follow her into the fire."

Throughout the story, the monkey is the only one who exhibits pure, unselfish love—mirroring the fatherly love that Yoshihide buries under his artistic obsession. When the monkey jumps into the fire, it’s as if Yoshihide is watching the last part of himself—his ability to love—die alongside his daughter.

As he witnesses this, Yoshihide doesn't weep or break down. Instead, he chooses to finish the Hell Screen, embracing his artistic obsession fully. This suggests that whatever remnants of love or morality he had have been burned away, leaving behind only the artist who seeks perfection at any cost.

This also ties into the broader theme of the story: true hell is not just something painted—it is something lived. By sacrificing his last shred of humanity, Yoshihide doesn't just depict hell; he becomes part of it. His masterpiece is complete, but at the cost of everything else.

Yoshihide’s suicide isn’t just an act of despair—it could also be seen as the ultimate statement of his transformation. With his humanity gone, there is nothing left for him but death.

That would be Ryoshu, following the original Yoshihide's portrayal most closely—not some tragic, repressed character. As for how Project Moon plans to cook her up, only they know. They’re keeping it under wraps, so no player can analyze her in depth just yet.

What if they decide to make her a fusion dance of the lord, the painter, and the daughter? Or even the monkey. Thanks to this last part of chapter 18 right next to the part up there.

For those who love Ryoshu because she’s a handsome, domineering figure—well, lucky you, no worries there.

[dyns33]

The Painting

In the long series of characters I loved for a while only to move on to a new one just as quickly but still wrote about them, James Wesley. Yes, the Kingpin's assistant.

James had warned her very early in their relationship.

On their second date to be honest.

"Y/N, you have to understand that my job takes up some of my time."

He hadn't clearly explained to her what his job consisted of. From all the calls and messages he received, he managed a lot of things that he then reported to his employer, like an assistant or a secretary.

It was impossible to say precisely if he didn't explain it to her because it was boring, complicated or dangerous, if he didn't trust her or if he didn't want her to be in trouble.

In any case, James Wesley was clearly used to compartmentalizing his life, with every moment meticulously planned. There was no reason for it to be any different for his romantic relationship.

It could have been a problem if he wasn't romantic, or at least not in a conventional way.

Each of his attentions, his gifts, appointments, compliments, were perfectly prepared, calculated, and even sometimes with a hidden goal.

"James, it's too much." Y/N murmured as she discovered the gold and diamond necklace he was offering her.

"Nothing is too much for you."

"I really don't deserve all this."

"I object. You don't hold it against me for my many absences, while many people wouldn't have accepted my schedule."

"I know you're very busy."

"Indeed. Besides, I know we had planned to go see your parents next weekend, but it turns out that my employer wants me to deal with an urgent matter, so unfortunately I won't be able to come."

"Oh, James… They'll be disappointed not to see you."

It was false, they both knew it, because most of Y/N's close friends didn't really like the man she had agreed to marry, not understanding her choice at all.

However, he was still a good husband. Despite his cold and calculating demeanor, James really loved her. They had met in a bookstore, while he was doing research for clients, Y/N had helped him, they had talked, and everything had started from there.

Love was the only way to explain their relationship. He could have perfectly well stayed alone, and she brought him nothing in the professional field.

Y/N repeated this to herself as she waited for him for over an hour in the fancy restaurant they had booked several weeks ago to celebrate their three years of marriage.

No doubt she could have called him, quickly resolving the situation by reminding him that he was expected, or by learning that he was unavailable. He was more and more taken up by his employer.

But this was James' idea, he had organized it. So she waited for him. A waiter came to see her several times with a sad sorry smile, if she wanted to order or if she had to wait any longer. After 3 hours, she had taken a simple salad that she had eaten while swallowing her tears.

Y/N had then walked around the streets, not wanting to go back to their empty apartment right away. It was impossible to explain what had pushed her to enter this contemporary art gallery.

The manager of the place, Vanessa, welcomed her gently, ready to help her find the piece made for her.

"It's not for me, it would be for my husband. For our 3 years of marriage."

"Oh, congratulations ! It's an important step in a relationship, a real baptism of fire. Tell me about your husband, what he's like, what he likes."

"James is very cultured, always elegant and calm. A hard worker, very busy, but always attentive when he has the time."

"I see the kind of men." she smiled mischievously. "I met one of them recently, very difficult to read, a controlled passion. I can show you several paintings."

Some works were proposed, large, small, red, yellow, white, but none spoke to Y/N without her being able to explain why. Until her gaze fell on a canvas at the other end of the gallery, which attracted her like a magnet.

A rather large painting, between gray and blue, that Vanessa described as the saddest in the gallery, not really understanding her client's choice, while she had spoken of her marriage in rather positive terms.

But Y/N declared that it was perfect.

Still very busy with his work, James only came home two days after she hung the painting in their living room, and even so, he didn't notice it at all, his attention mainly focused on his phone or his computer, and the rest of the time on her.

He hadn't noticed the date at all, proving that he had completely forgotten their anniversary and the restaurant, kissing her as if everything was fine while simply apologizing for his prolonged absence.

"My employer isn't very available at the moment, I have to be everywhere at once. Believe me, that doesn't really please me."

"I hope he'll offer you a nice vacation soon."

"Ah, that would be wonderful, but he'd be lost without me. He apologizes for asking me so often. He recently found love, he doesn't like the idea of ​​getting between us. He asked me what your favorite flowers were."

"That's nice of him but absolutely not necessary."

She could have told him that the only thing she wanted was for her employer to learn to manage a little on his own, especially if he ruined her dates to go to his in peace.

But since she suspected that it wouldn't change anything, she put on her best smile as she accepted her husband's kisses before he left for a long day of work.

It had been over a week when he stopped in the hallway, his hand on the doorknob.

Y/N didn't look at him, thinking he had simply forgotten something, continuing to chew on her breakfast.

"When did you buy this? " he asked, and she understood that he had finally noticed the painting.

"Oh. A few days ago. Do you like it ?"

"… Where did you buy this ?"

"An art gallery in the neighborhood, I walked past. The color reminds me a bit of your eyes."

James looked at her strangely, before putting his briefcase on the ground, putting his phone in his pocket, to come back to her and hug her.

The gesture was touching, even if she didn't understand it.

Then he apologized for missing their wedding anniversary.

It seemed surprising that he could make the connection between this oversight and a painting. Impossible even.

Except that Vanessa was his boss's new lover. She had told him about this client who had bought the saddest work in his gallery, and the information had been passed on to Wesley for strange reasons, probably to know what to avoid doing to succeed in a relationship. Since his couple was soon to celebrate its third anniversary, James could be considered a good advisor.

"Forgive me, darling. I have no excuse. I had so much to think about, I totally forgot the date. We had a restaurant and… Did you wait for me at the restaurant ?"

"Don't worry, James, I understand."

"No, it's unforgivable. I should never have forgotten such an important day. Why didn't you call me ? I would have come right away."

"I didn't want to disturb you."

If the painting was considered sad, the look he displayed at that moment to look her in the eye was worse.

Maybe he had made it clear that he was busy, but he had always done everything he could to be at home as much as possible. The fragile balance that he had managed to maintain for all these years was however beginning to waver, without him realizing it and without Y/N trying to shake him, accepting her fate.

Because she was convinced that he would choose his job no matter what. There was no point in fighting, he loved her, but he didn't love her enough to change that.

"Y/N… Maybe I'm conscientious and my job has a certain importance, but it must not encroach on our relationship. The time I dedicate to you is just as important, never hesitate to reprimand me if I get lost. There is no way you're going to think that you're not important."

"But…"

"No 'buts'." he cut her off, grabbing her shoulders so she could look him in the eye. "Promise me, if I forget another appointment, make me crawl at your feet to be allowed to go home."

"Be serious."

"I'm always serious, you know that. Now, could you… Can you take that painting down ?"

"Oh. But I like it. It really reminds me of your eyes."

The painting stayed, because it pleased his wife, and because it served as a reminder to James Wesley whenever he left for work. He had hesitated to tell his employer about the incident, but the latter had eventually noticed a tension in his secretary and friend anyway, asking him to speak freely.

Upon learning that he was partly responsible for forgetting such an important birthday, the man had felt ashamed, apologizing to James and having a huge bouquet sent to Y/N, accompanied by a card thanking her for her indulgence and promising her improvements.

The following week, they were able to have a whole weekend together, even if her husband was a little feverish, not used to having nothing to do.

"Workaholic." she teased gently.

"You were warned when you agreed to marry me."

"I'm still happy to have you a little to myself."

"I may be busy, but I remain entirely yours."

Y/N snuggled up to him, enjoying this special moment knowing that James would really try to be there as often as possible, doing his best to prove his love to her, but that he would still be very busy with his mysterious employer.

[iphigeniainaulis]

Spirit of Sadness*

Can't believe it's already the third anniversary of the @flash-exchange 💛 This is my gift for lovely @rinaririr. I hope it will remind you how strong and talented you are!

Character: Leonardo

Prompt: You cannot see the light without darkness

*the title of Le Gallienne's poem

Today is that day. 

Human life iridesces like a diamond in the sun. Versatile, bright and eternally beautiful. But when the rain comes, even gems get dirt on them. 

You can't call yourself a sad person. Surely, life gives you lots of lemons, but somehow you’ve learned to make the very best lemonade out of them. Most of the time, at least. 

Yet, sometimes days like this occur. When suddenly the last pack of sugar is gone, and lemons are sour. When the rainfall turns the golden forest in front of Comte’s mansion into a mess of dirty green and ochre. When the brush in your hand no longer follows your command no matter how much you dip it into the deep blueness of oil paints. 

Covering your face with your hands, you try to find a specific rhythm to breathe. Darkness makes your senses stronger, ears and nose catching what eyes can't see. The sound of old wooden clocks. The cracking of the fireplace. Time runs but moves nowhere, so you give yourself permission to cry, warming icy hands with hot tears.

A sudden rush of wind brings you the smell of wet leaves and the melancholy of autumn. Being forced to hang in the air for a split second, you end up in the comfort of your lover's embrace, covered from tip to toe with his endlessly long, endlessly wide coat.   

“He’s caught in the rain. That's why the scent of cigarillos didn't warn me of his presence,” is the only rational thought produced by your tired mind.

“What’s happened?” he sounds unbothered. His long calloused fingers are playing with your hair, a habit he shows when feels nervous.

You’re searching for the right words to come, and Leonardo gladly gives you as much time as you need, lulling you with deep murmuring and gentle touches. 

At some point you accept your defeat and say what’s been on your mind for quite a long time.

“It’s just that sometimes I feel so much doing so little. Today I haven’t drawn a single sketch. But time goes by, and I feel as if it leaves me behind, while others live their lives to the fullest.”

Wiping a tear, you continue.

“And it makes me feel so guilty, so ashamed of myself. The world is full of so many problems that are way more important than mine. Still, I can't get rid of this pain, and it scares me that someday…this dark feeling will never leave.”

You’ve run out of words, and the last of them vanish in the air like the sound of cork pulling out of an emptied bottle. The silence isn't uncomfortable, and you’re grateful that Leonardo allows you to come to yourself.  

The room becomes less dark when he lights a cigarette, creating a puff of sweet smoke. The man’s deep voice sounds like a lullaby, and you press yourself closer to his wide chest, where it’s safe, where it's home.

“I’m an engineer, cara mia, and hardly know a thing about art and stuff.”

A weak smile, the only one you’ve had on this never ending day, carves your lips.

“...but lemme say this. No vehicle is safe to use if you ignore the rumble. Humans are way more difficult than vehicles. And so are their feelings. Learn to accept them, reveal them, that's the only way you don't destroy yourself from within. Happiness doesn't come when sadness is neglected.”

“So, in other words…you cannot see the light without darkness?” you mumble, enjoying the feeling of his voice, scent, words and touch getting through your skin.

A hoarse chuckle is your response. “Couldn’t say it better. You’re good with your words, principessa.”

You slowly sink into the healing yet still so painful abyss of dreams, listening to the melody of Leonardo’s heartbeat. His arms are on your waist, warm, almost hot. Lumiere’s tail tickles your legs. The night is finally kind. 

There are indeed days when you have to face your demons. But if you have people ready to stand with you no matter what, then this battle is worth fighting.   

[alchemyfire]

Thermidor - a short story inspired by the picture

Inspired by this beautiful art by @octavodecimo I wrote this short story about the sad night of Thermidor.

"We're going to die."

"I know."

Hope vanished, leaving only the burning truth. Death is inevitable.

None of us wanted to talk about why it had come to this. Regrets would change nothing, only rob us of the last few moments we could have spent together. Besides, my soul was without regret. We had both done what we thought was right. I would never have abandoned him, even if our opinions had differed.

It didn't matter now. I took his hand in mine and held my breath as he rested his head on my shoulder. I stood firm, unwavering. Just as he had so many times before in the Convention, he could lean on me now, when his strength was running out. Together we could change the world, if only we had more time.

"Everything will end with us, right?" he asked, looking thoughtfully out the window. Beyond that window was Paris and its people, for whom he had sacrificed everything.

“The future will not forget us,” I replied. “Our legacy will live on, and one day the revolution will flare up again with full force.” I closed my eyes and imagined that this was indeed the truth, not just the merciful lie we both tried to believe.

“Have we done enough?” he whispered quietly. I looked past him to the door to the next room, where the others were still trying to organize help. Still hoping. How foolish!

“There is one last thing left,” I said firmly, looking at him. “To accept reality and die with honor.” He nodded in agreement.

“Like the Romans,” he smiled sadly. His fingers touched the pistol that lay on the table for the case of defense. The sudden thought of Maxime taking his own life frightened me. Not that it made any difference. Our deaths were inevitable, and each of us must choose how to face it. Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea, but… do I have the courage to pull the trigger?

“I won’t leave you, my friend,” I promised finally, determined to keep my word. Whatever he chose, I would go with him. I kissed him gently as a sign of my oath and also because there probably wouldn’t be another chance.

When it actually happened, I watched with horror in my heart but with a calm mind as he raised the pistol and fired. I could see right away that it hadn’t turned out the way he had hoped. I wanted to follow him to his death, but he was alive! I stood there paralyzed, staring at the blood that was spilling across the tabletop, staining his tie and shirt crimson. I couldn’t leave him now.

Someone took the weapon from my hand and roughly shoved me. I couldn’t stop looking at Maximilien. He was wheezing, bleeding, but he was alive. He had fallen unconscious, which was probably a good thing. He would not be spared suffering and pain at the end of his life. My poor Maxime... I will stay with you until the end.

[smurfs-insideout-au]

Emotion Smurf Bio/Refs

Here is the list of all of the emotion smurfs,along with links to their original posts,designs and informations (be warned: it's long af). For the boy smurfs,there will be two versions: one with hair and one without hair. You can draw them as either of those.

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Smurfsunflower (emotion Joy volunteer)

Oc by @thedarkqueen14

Link to her original post: https://www.tumblr.com/thedarkqueen14/770302465572732928/next-is-introducing-azaleas-best-friendwho-is

Smurfsunflower (she/her) is a loveable sunshine who is in charge of the Smurf grove's cleaning team and best friend of Smurfazalea!!

A very optimistic and happy Smurf who sees light in everyone,taking any chance she gets to spread the joy and positivity to everyone. A kind and helpful one,who is indeed very happy to help. She is also packed with good leadership skills,knowing how to keep everyone in place and can be the voice of reason whenever tension strikes

However,under that positive smile is the disturbance that she hides to herself,as she can be rather passive-aggressive at times and is pushy about her way of positivity. This leads to her having a rather negative side to her optimism,pushing her ways a bit too far and even tries to change those she views as "not positive enough".

The reason for this is because of the destruction of the original Grove location that changed her life forever,with her having a very hard time adjusting to the sudden changes. She uses her happiness as a protective shield,but doesn't realize it's cracking.

Now this cute and peppy Smurf early volunteers in the project as the role of "Joy". She's very excited to meet you all!!!

—-—-—-—-—-—

Smurfpigment (emotion Joy volunteer)

Oc by @funnibluecreturs

Link to her original post: https://www.tumblr.com/funnibluecreturs/747935198720720896/just-going-to-finally-post-smurfpigmentss-design?source=share

Smurfpigment (she/her) is the Color Expert of the Smurf Grove Village and the older sister of Smurfgraphite.

Pigment is the go-to Smurf if a Smurf could use some color to their day! Literally and figuratively! She is known for her cheerful and supportive nature, giving positive affirmations and encouragement. She also acts as an older sister figure to not just Graphite, but to any Smurf she comes across with.

The destruction of the previous Smurf Grove Village motivated Pigment to work on her self-defense skills. After the devastating event, Pigment was inspired to create her infamous color bombs after a potion mishap (the first color bombs she made were so strong it made her previous house explode to pieces.) Pigment can also be a little reckless at times, which is why there are moments her color bombs can get set off at unpredictable times. She can also slip up and can let her emotions get the best of her, especially if she feels Graphite is being treated unfairly.

Despite that, as a Smurf who wants to serve as a role model, she tries to put her impulsiveness aside. She's very compassionate and understanding of other Smurfs, even those who are misunderstood, like Grouchy for example since she doesn't really judge him for his attitude.

Pigment becomes one of the volunteers of the Emotion Project, volunteering as the role of "Joy" after Sunflower. She wants to understand what it's like to be an emotion in the brain!

—-—-—-—-—-—

Writer Smurf (emotion Sadness volunteer)

Oc by @thedarkqueen14

Links to his original posts: https://www.tumblr.com/thedarkqueen14/764417871570993152/updated-reference-sheets-for-writer-and

Writer Smurf (he/him),the author with a sorrow attitude and Brainy's older twin brother. Both glasses smurfs hail from the same stork delivery,at the same time. Writer is considered the older one due to his more mature personality.

Writer was once an energetic,reckless and adventurous fellow,with a passion of traveling here and there to find inspiration for his books. The reason why they're well received is because of his input of reality plus fiction. However,a careless move of opening the forbidden "Pandora's box" has changed his life forever. Cursed to become permanently sad and drown in tears. Yet,he overcomes this and is trying to become better

Currently,Writer has become a reserved and shy Smurf who can cry at the drop of a hat. That's not to say he's basically Weepy,but he's not. He's more of the type to constantly looking melancholic. He has also grown a huge guilt complex ever since the curse,leading his confidence to shatter and drowning in constant self doubt and highly criticizes himself. Yet,he harbors great empathy,along with kindness and maturity of an older brother.

Writer has a pessimistic view of life. To him,there's no such thing as true happiness,but only those that can be enjoyed throughout their lives,even if it's small and insignificant. He explores a lot about the Smurf mind and loves learning about it,using his writing medium to convey his knowledge and his experiences.

Despite the sadness,he's doing much better now,thanks to the help of his younger brother;his beloved boyfriend,Painter;and his friends,old and new.

Now,Writer is one of the first volunteers for the project,taking the role of "Sadness". He helped Brainy out a lot during the process,too.

—-—-—-—-—-—

Scaredy Smurf (emotion Fear volunteer)

Canon character (Art/design by @thedarkqueen14 )

Scaredy Smurf (he/him),the Smurf who gets scared of everything and anything,whether it's a small insect or a large storm.

Scaredy bears a fearful and anxious nature,making it hard for him to do anything without thinking the worst of it or finding worry about anything. Tho,because of his jittery nature,he's great at keeping others safe,as his insight has proven to be very useful. Scaredy is quite shy and isn't much of a talker,mostly due to the fear of being shut down

The scaredy cat does possess great strength,speed and agility at times,mostly when he's provoked. Despite his cowardly nature,he is willing to build up courage to do the things he's normally afraid to do,for the sake of saving his friends or needing to face responsibility. Scaredy is also very honest and has a hard time lying,due to his guilt complex

Now this loveable coward of a Smurf has gathered his courage to join this possibly dangerous project,as the role of "Fear". He may or may not be regretting this later,but at least he's trying.

—-—-—-—-—-—

Dragonfruit Smurfling/Pitaya Smurfling (emotion Anger volunteer)

Oc by @thedarkqueen14

Link to his original post: https://www.tumblr.com/thedarkqueen14/764866902969499648/dragonfruit-smurfling-or-pitaya-is-a-manmade

Dragonfruit Smurfling (he/him),or known as Pitaya,is a manmade Smurf,created by a kind witch,being raised under her care. However,when she passed away,she gave him to her son to take care. The son,drenching in alcohol from the stressful and unfair life;started to neglect and abuse the poor smurf. The young one eventually survived when the man tried to sell him for some gold. He was lucky to be found and adopted by a Smurf Grove called "SmurfSnapdragon".

Pitaya is an aggressive and violent child,using destruction as a defensive mechanism. The young Smurf is also quite the hothead and rude to others,having trust issues and anger issues. He doesn't mean bad,he's like a spicy kitten,hard to open up.

But under that hard shell is a bumbling and chaotic lil child,full of fun and mischief >:33 Pitaya is also a smart one and can be quite mature,with great observing skills. And if he likes you,he can get clingy as well. This is due to his separation anxiety and claustrophobia.

Now,Pitaya has volunteered to become one of the emotions in the project,as "Anger". He's convinced by his older sister to join and learn more about emotions.

—-—-—-—-—-—

Snob Smurf (emotion Disgust volunteer)

oc by @theskybug

Link to his original post: https://www.tumblr.com/theskybug/764722753800716288

Snob Smurf (he/him) has a nasty attitude, high nose and is obsessive with cleaning and keeping his looks tidy. He is a waiter for Chef Smurf’s kitchen. Helping around the kitchen with serving food, preparing meals. But mostly the cleaning. Despite that cold heart, he really does care for the village and secretly has a crush on Chef. Even through everyone knows it, but hates admitting it. (He's in the Tundere category because Azazel and Sky said so)

Once you get to know him. He’s not so bad lf you manage to stick around long enough that is. snob actually used to be a kind and helpful Smurf, until Gargamel captured him and used a powerful personality changing spell, leaving behind some features. With sharp teeth and attitude, as well a burn like scar of his chest. (A Spell burn) he was saved just in time before gargamel could fully turn him into a monster.

Now. Snob signed himself as one of the emotion volunteers. Known as ‘disgust’ (he is silently regretting it)

—-—-—-—-—-—

Draftsman Smurf/Drafty (emotion Anxiety volunteer)

Oc by @thedarkqueen14

Link to his original post: https://www.tumblr.com/thedarkqueen14/770303376904847360/and-finallymy-last-bean-for-tonight-is-draftsman

Draftsman Smurf (he/they),or Drafty for short,is an aspiring new artist in the creative crew,experimenting with new art styles and mediums to draw

Drafty wishes to be the best at it,he has always been! Packed with enthusiasm,a touch of zest and lively energy,they are known to learn things quickly and is able to practice nonstop until they master it. This has garnish them a good chunk popularity within the Smurf community. This popularity can have them to grow a tad arrogant,rubbing off his talent in front of others just because he can,and will get aggressive if anyone tries to defy his hard work

Behind the arrogance is a fumbling,incredibly anxious Smurf who is constantly looked at by smurfs. Putting on a high pedestal ever since they were known as "Perfectionist Smurf",this Smurf is always afraid of losing or falling behind. Their mind is a hive of endless negativity and self criticisms,always thinking about the worst that could happen. That's why he's always prepared! Tho being prepared so much leads them to be neglectful of their own mental health.

Their anxiety has lead him to have stomach issues,easily getting nauseous and sick.

Now,Drafty joins in the project as the infamous "anxiety". He wonders if he could learn a thing or two about his conditions. Nah,he's fine!

—-—-—-—-—-—

Enamoured Smurf (emotion Envy volunteer)

Canon character (art/design by @theskybug )

Link to his original posts: https://www.tumblr.com/theskybug/771639956156383232/enamoured-smurf-hehim-is-the-villages-romance

Enamoured Smurf (he/him)is the village’s romance and love master, Known as the Cupid of the Smurfs.

He is polite and can be the sweetest around, Enamoured is also a huge sucker for romance, yet he's a hopeless romance who has trouble finding a partner. Talking about it to reading about it, gushing over love stories and even spying on couples. He has this thing called ‘the love vision’ where he can see a certain Smurf ‘duo’ would develop into a couple or not. (He’s mostly not wrong)

Despite loving Valentine so much, he also hates at the same time,because he’s single,as he takes the holiday very seriously. He likes to invite others to the ‘single mingle’ club and have tea, show off his baking skills as well.

Unlike canon Enamoured,this Enamoured has evolved from just falling in love with Smurfette,now to become the best romance expert,dating counselor and true love connoisseur

Now adorable Enamoured wants to set foot or rather his mind into the emotion volunteering as ‘envy’

—-—-—-—-—-—

Butterfly Smurf (emotion Embarrassment volunteer)

Oc by @theskybug

Link to his original post: https://www.tumblr.com/theskybug/770728626182373376/butterfly-one-of-the-sweetest-innocent-like-of

Butterfly Smurf (he/him) is one of the sweetest, cutest Smurfs of the crew (or village) with a shy, curious personality. Loves a little adventure who tends to wonder about and others had to find him.

Butterfly has a huge fear on any kind of bird, including storks. Although he’s somewhat more comfortable with storks than the rest of the birds. Which Smurfs used storks as their transportation for long distances. The reason for this fear, when he was a smurfling during a little camp trip that papa promised some little ones. Butterfly wondered off again not expecting to face to face with a rare magical bird,whose ability is to make a horrid screech,loud enough to make you become deaf. Which is how butterfly became profoundly deaf in the first place, using sign language as his main communication all his life (includes a little note book in his hat) It annoys him through, since not many knew sign language and missed out alot.

That’s until later, his life completely changed when he fell in love with partly blind Smurf named Archer Smurf ( @thedarkqueen14 ‘s oc) who later gifted butterfly magical earrings,which was helped by Papa Smurf and Handy Smurf. The earrings allowed butterfly to ‘hear’ as long as he wear it. The gift was given during a date,where Archer asked Butterfly to be his boyfriend,who in turn said "yes"

Now butterfly happily and bravely volunteers the emotion known as ‘embarrassment’ he’s excited to meet you all!

—-—-—-—-—-—

Smurfgraphite (emotion Ennui volunteer)

Oc by @funnibluecreturs

Link to her original post:

Smurfgraphite (she/her) is the Sketch Artist of the Smurf Grove Village and younger sister of Smurfpigment.

Graphite is an introspective and reserved Smurf, known for her usually stoic nature. Back then, she isn't really talkative nor does she interact with the other Smurfs very much unless it's Pigment. That is until the disastrous event involving the previous Smurf Grove Village. This pushed her to get out of her comfort zone and start talking to Smurfs more.

Graphite isn't as emotionally expressive as others and she tends to think deeply about dark topics. She also can doubt or underestimate her own self-worth. But she also has a dry sense of humor, making jokes while keeping a straight face. Despite not being as emotionally expressive, she does feel very deeply and expresses her feelings through her artworks, a lot of her drawings have hints of melancholic tones to it, that is... If she's not making absurd drawings. And despite her gloomy nature, she's not really a pessimist.

Graphite volunteers for the emotion "Ennui." She's not satisfied until she gets a deeper understanding about emotions.

[lokorum]

Your art so surreal, did you take inspiration from African masks it’s amazing. You have probably gotten this question before but what’s your process and how do plan these beautiful pieces out. I am a beginner artist and would like some advice on how start doing digital painting.

thank you for bringing me back from the dead with your kindness, (i was so sad today ughhhh i think watching vampire diaries starting to affect me hjkhjk), i really, really deeply thankful that you spend your time to write something so sweet (also sorry it took me literally ages to reply phphp THE USUAL)

yeah, in buryatia shamanism like the big thing, so when i went to search what's out there in the masks department - google's mess of the results for once was helpful and showed this massive collection of beautiful african masks. the one that was inspo for tiisha lived in my head rent free for weeks before the character was even born phphph now i cant even imagine her without it 

(here is little tiisha for you before i'll proceed to be not helpfull phphphph)

oof advices are not my strong side , like..........my process mostly is just sleep through the whole thing i guess..........................i very rarely do sketches, i hate study anatomy and perspective, drawing cubes makes me physically sick etc etc my approach to drawing were "fuck around and find out", always about chill and fun and barely ever about learning. imho thats why im so shitty at drawing simple things but not bad at coloring. so yeah, my biggest advice always and forever will be - be gentle to yourself, please

digital or traditional or whatever else is out there, dont forget you make it for yourself and for yourself only okay? it supposed to be fun, not sad tiring and competitive 

advices for digital specifically tho - very objective, apply with caution

learn all the keyboard shortcuts, ideally to press them without thinking 

explore more instruments than just brush. it will be tedious and sometimes feel like a chore so mb pick one victim once a month and browse youtube for a stuff like SECRET ULTIMATE TIPS ABOUT MAGIC WAND TOOL THAT WILL SAVE YOUR LIFE (they indeed will save your life) 

check if your drawing program has artboards - turning it on will give you more freedom over canvas positioning  and your refs will always be there and not in the separate window 

idk about others but using auto tone, auto contrast and auto color often gives me well needed perspective on what im doing 

in 99% cases be sure that you can reanimate even the most messiest artpiece you ever did. working in digital gives you the chance to mess with shapes, colors and perspective at any time so if you dont want to gave up on something - you absolutely didnt have to

from time to time while you are still learning - go out there in the wilds and search for the new brushes. tweak with them if you want. i have like ~500 and i use 6 max, but those 6 i found by at some point trying to draw with all of the 500

MADE. BACK UPS. and i mean not like save layers just in case before merging them (tho that's too will help) no, i mean click SAVE AS once an hour and create A NEW FILE. PLEASE. i lost so much stuff to sudden power outage. its never pretty and you loosing will to work for days

watch at least one tutorial about the whole rgb srgb and cmyk thing - i did, understood not a thing, but at least im not playing dora the explorer with my colors after the export now 

uh idk think thats it? tried to think about those that id hope i knew when i started so hopefully something will help 

have fun with your drawings!! 

[bloo-the-dragon]

So...I have just red mer solarstone's story... (Just found it and had the time to read it)

How dare you make me cry 4-5 times/silly

And it is amazing!

I love it so much! And oh my god poor sols

And I got a couple of questions! :D

1. You mentioned Earth there, so I'm understanding she is a mer as well? (Mermaid 🌺 ;3) Who was the "darker" mer with her? Under the boat

2. Where did moonstones egg go? I notyit wasn't mentioned after the attack (rest in peace sunstone, we will miss you ❤️‍🩹)

3. Who was moonstone fighting at the end of his life? (Was it someone random or a specific character that you chose)

Once again,

It is so cute, and sad and good and Amazing!!! 💖😍❤️

I love it 💕

So to start with the fic was written by my good friend @erenevune who also made Sols! (I drew his design based on their description) and so i've allowed them to answer 2 and 3 of your questions which i have copy pasted from discord :D (If anyone hasn't read the fic yet, you can find it here!)

I can answer the first question though!

1. Earth is indeed a mer in the au as well yes! She and the 'mystery darker mer' with her have been in development for a while now and are going to be background characters for the au - i'll be posting art of them very soon so stay tuned ;)

2. Moonstone's egg was killed during the attack that killed Sunstone, despite their best efforts to protect both eggs Sunstone wasn't able to completely block off the attack and Moonstone's egg was the casualty. Though, thankfully, Sunstone died believing he had protected both eggs. Solstone barely survived, it was honestly pure luck Sunstone managed to save even one of them. It was likely either crushed or knocked so hard the baby mer inside was too injured to survive, and by the time Moonstone was able to find his egg it would have been too late to do anything. Very preoccupied with feeling part of him die when Sunstone died, since as twins their life force was connected and Moonstone had to feel every moment of him fading then his sudden absence. The only reason Moonstone survived is because both he and Sunstone had bonded to another mer as mates for their little family pod

3. Moonstone attacked his mate. The mate is unnamed (though I have nicknamed them as "Slate" in my head). After the death of his twin and loss of his own pup, his sanity was degrading rapidly over the years as he was in constant pain from missing half of his soul and greif. He had already been attacking other mers for some time and some cannibalsm had been starting as well. Which, definitely didn't help his steadily shattering mind.

At the end, he completely lost whatever sanity he had left and attacked his mate, killing them and consequently killing himself. Slate let it happen without a fight because they knew all of them would be better off, and that Moonstone had already been gone for a very long time. If not when Sunstone died, then sometime when Sols was still a very young pup. And so had they, just not as badly as Moonstone. They also knew neither of them were fit to care for Sols anymore and hadnt been for years, and while it wasn't a great choice, the mate figured Sols would be better off taking his chances alone.

Was it selfish? Yes. But by this point they were already an absent parent and were looking forward to neither of them constantly suffering just by being alive anymore. In a way, Slate's final act was to protect Sols by making sure Moonstone was focused only on them and would end up killing them, so he couldn't then turn on Sols and kill him too. Sols doesnt look much like Slate, but he does share the same tail fin shape as them.

Sols looks most like Sunstone in terms of colour, but has Moonstones eyes. Physically he looks very much like both Sunstone and Moonstone as they're twins. Though to Moonstone, who was forever grieving, Sols looked more like a mini Sunstone which added to his mental decline towards the end. Sols was a constant reminder of what he lost and why he had to stay, when he would have much rathered to join his twin and pup in death.

[widgenstain]

Blue Moon review

After almost a week (saw it on February 23rd) of recovering from that train trip and a ton of shitty work things (and, you know, the world), here’s my review for Blue Moon.

I purposefully avoided reading any reviews or details on it, so I could go into it as blind as possible and I haven’t really read up on any now either. I do know that the movie is a bit divisive though and I think I understand why, but I for one LOVE it. Please keep in mind that I’m a depressed writer and theatre nerd, so I’m pretty much the target audience for this. There won’t be any spoilers behind the cut, it’s not a movie that really has “spoilers” and it is a real story with a foregone conclusion, but if you do want to go into it completely blind as well, especially as an Andrew fan, I suggest you stop reading here.

The film is one of those beautiful works of art that are more play than film. It’s shown almost in real time, almost everything takes place in the same bar in the same night, on the same set and there is a certain detachment from realism that gives it a very theatrical feel. In the best sense.

At first glance Ethan Hawke’s Lorenz Hart seems irresistible, bonmots flying off him, an awkward charm flooding the bar and all its patrons. He drinks too much, but it’s the premiere of his former partner’s biggest hit yet, can you really blame him? He’s also smitten with a young college student who is supposed to appear later that night, he soliloquies about love and beauty to the slightly vulgar bartender, engages the piano player, who dreams of Broadway fame with his stories of writing hit songs, and geeks out about the beauty of words with an established writer. It’s all very Oscar Wilde, incredibly witty, a bit offensive, DEEPLY funny and yet the cracks are coming in.

Then they all break open when Rodgers, his former partner, appears with his premiere party. Hart is a sad clown, a genius no doubt, brilliant and funny, but he’s not made for real life.

He fails at simple tasks like showing up on time, fails his friend and therefore keeps falling behind, despite the genius and despite the love the people around him have for him. Boy is it brutal!

The way Linklater, without any gimmickry, shoves a reality lens over all the things Hart says, how there indeed are protagonists and background actors in real life too, but not necessarily for the reasons Hart had mentioned before. The way all the artistry means nothing against necessities, or war, or capitalism, and how people can have affection for someone, but still be out of patience for them and no, not love them back. It’s gorgeous. I could go on for 15 more paragraphs of that, the script is packed with astonishingly beautiful lines and callbacks and they’re executed brilliantly. Uproariously funny and depressingly sad at the same time. Powerful, poetic shit that hits way too close to home.

But I’m here to talk about the important things: I think I know why there are no stills of Andrew out yet and it’s because he just looks too damn hot in this.

You can roll your eyes at this and discard it as fangirl talk, but I’m not making this up, the movie makes a point of it. Hart is dishevelled, balding, with deep lines on his face and comically short. This is emphasised with theatrical means, I think some people had problems with that, but it’s deliberately grotesque! He’s contrasted with Rodgers, dressed in finely tailored clothing, eyes bright, teeth sharp, cheekbones even sharper. He’s healthy, successful, he’s the one people really want and he’s taking them in the end. He’s reality cutting in, sharp and brutal, but not without heart.

Andrew isn’t in the film much, it’s not a big part, but it hits hard and the one scene where Hawke and he go up against each other on the stairs, it's just pure acting gods in their element. Mind-numbingly good! MORE PLEASE!

I can see why some people won’t like it, it’s a bit cerebral, some people might find things to complain about in the casting, others might not enjoy the monologue-ish style, I found there were some lengths right before the finale, but it is a gorgeous piece of art that should be watched by more people than who probably will end up watching it, when it is widely released.

[lurkingshan]

Every You, Every Me

Story 4 (Part 2)

Picking up from where we left off.

Man, you should NEVER butt into a harassment situation without actually knowing what is going on. I would have left, too.

Sad, though, I was hoping for more sex and dick jokes instead of drama.

This plot has taken a weird turn. And kind of a boring one tbh. I don't really care about this Phukan drawing credit conflict. Let's get back to what we're here for, please.

Thank you, show 🙏🏻

Ope, James from the flashbacks is indeed an ex. He looked so uncomfortable at that marriage proposal? Weird vibe since it seems they didn't actually break up, but perhaps just a weak acting moment.

I love it when romance shows remind us it's fine and normal to have significant past relationships and people can love more than one person in their life and there's no need to be weird about it.

Okay that said this love confession and "I can't live without you" feels pretty fast for these two.

This shot through the shower curtain is strange, it's making Sian look like a ghost.

Hell yeah, rip the towel off! I love that we keep seeing shots of those painted blue nails.

Sian looks gorgeous in the window in that morning light.

Oh no he's singing... okay it's not nearly as bad as a lot Thai drama singing, I survived.

Cuuuuute montage during that song.

It must be said though that "you're my favorite musical note/you're my favorite work of art" are such cheesy lines.

Hahahaha little brother you really need to start knocking.

HEY THEY ARE MONTAGING ACROSS THE STORIES ALL OF A SUDDEN

OMG @twig-tea was right!!!! They are actors making a series of BLs yasssssssssssss

"You and Your Beautiful Soul" is the show they're currently making.

Is this breakup scene yet another BL, or the real guys?? OMG

New names Pun and Inn (which matches with the previous brief glimpse of BTS). I think these are the actual actors who have been playing all these other characters.

FIAT IS BACK

YEP, they showed up to set upset from their breakup.

"You're not me, you don't understand." WTF that line is the same as in the breakup we just watched.

Oh, so they breakup and make up frequently.

Who is this sassy tall man 👀

Ope, and next week we seem to be staying with this story of the actors instead of changing up again. This has been the real narrative all along, and it tracks well with the stuff I noted in my binge watch--the changing names, the performances getting better as the episodes go on, the way the physical intimacy differed so much and built to be stronger across each story. All of that makes perfect sense if they're an actor pair working together across multiple shows and getting more seasoned and comfortable as they go. Such a smart concept. I'm curious if we'll learn when they started dating and about the arc of some of those previous breakup and makeups against their BLs. I hope so!

[primordialsoundmeditation]

Words for these Times

(I've copied and pasted with tags since that's the best way to be sure you get to see it.)

Hopi Indian Chief White Eagle commented a few days ago on the current global situation:

"This moment that humanity is living through can be considered a door or a hole. The decision to fall into the hole or go through the door is yours.

If you consume information 24 hours a day, with negative energy, constantly nervous, with pessimism, you will fall into this hole.

But if you take the opportunity to look at yourself, to rethink life and death, to take care of yourself and others, you will go through the door.

Take care of your home, take care of your body. Connect with your spiritual home. When you take care of yourself, you take care of others at the same time.

Do not underestimate the spiritual dimension of this crisis. Adopt the perspective of an eagle that sees everything from above with a broader vision.

There is a social demand in this crisis, but also a spiritual demand. The two go hand in hand. Without the social dimension, we fall into fanaticism. Without the spiritual dimension, we fall into pessimism and futility.

You are prepared to go through this crisis.

Grab your toolbox and use all the tools at your disposal. Learn to resist by the example of the Indian and African peoples: we have been and continue to be exterminated.

* But we never stopped singing, dancing, lighting fires and having joy.

Don't feel guilty for feeling lucky in these difficult times. Being sad and without energy doesn't help at all.

* Resilience is resilience through joy!

You have the right to be strong and positive. You have to maintain a beautiful, cheerful and bright posture.

This has nothing to do with alienation (ignorance of the world). It is a strategy of resistance.

When we walk in the door, we have a new view of the world because we have faced our fears and difficulties.

This is what you can do now:

- Serenity in the storm,

- Keep calm, meditate daily,

- Make a habit of encountering the sacred every day.

Demonstrate resilience through art, joy, trust and love."

From Hawk Henries : ( I honestly don't know if the identity of Chief White Eagle is real. Real or not the essence of this message feels important to consider)

And additional comment from one of his fans:

Yes, very good advice indeed! Yes, he was a real person, a chief and a poitician who died in 1914. He fought for Indian rights and homelands during their most troubling times when they were disposed form their native lands and wantonly killed. But, that is why history is important, right? Most of what he speaks to can be applied to certain times affecting the human condition thru history; this is one of those times, so his wise words are both a balm to the soul and a roadmap for going forward into the future.

I'll put the Wiki link in the comments.

Thank you for finding this timely message, Michelle Heddinger!

Mara Clear Spring Cook

[autistichalsin]

My case for Halsin x Art Cullagh as a ship

First of all, these are two characters with a LOT in common. Both are intimately tied to the Shadow Curse. Both lost everything because of it: Halsin lost his homeland and Thaniel, while Art lost (temporarily) his sanity and would eventually lose his life to it.

Both care very deeply for Thaniel (and, later, Oliver). Thaniel was Halsin's first friend, who "made (Halsin) who (he) is today", while Thaniel helped Art in the Shadowfell. Thaniel played with both of them. Both of them felt protective- one might say paternal- towards Thaniel. Art tells the player that Thaniel is a sweet soul- too sweet for the Shadowfell- and he can't wait for the player to meet him.

Both are kind, gentle souls with a strong sense of justice and a call to do right in the world- Halsin by fighting against threats like the Shadow Curse and the Absolute, Art by being a Flaming Fist.

The link through Thaniel is strong (and not just in the "Thaniel has two daddies" sense). Thaniel tells Art about Halsin; Art repeatedly says that Thaniel told him that only Halsin can save him, that Thaniel "spoke of little else".

After being comatose for who knows how long, when Art startles awake and calls out for Thaniel, the first person he sees- and the first person to speak to him- is Halsin. Halsin, who instantly kneels to softly, kindly tell him to relax and breathe- a heartwarming way to be introduced to someone (and indeed, the devnotes say, "warm. Good bedside manner.") As soon as Halsin mentions that he too wants to help Thaniel, Art recognizes him, saying in shock (perhaps amazement?) "You're... you're Halsin," before repeating his request that Halsin find Thaniel. Which Halsin instantly agrees to, but repeats that he needs Art's help, and Art gives it.

When the curse is lifted, Halsin tells the player how sad he is to be leaving Thaniel's realm, how he hopes Thaniel and Oliver will stay as a pair because then they can have a friend after he's gone... clearly missing them, but knowing he has a greater mission in stopping the Absolute. What does Art say if you talk to him in the act 2 epilogue? That he feels Thaniel should have someone with him when he wakes, so he's staying. One might even argue that Art staying is the reason Halsin felt so comfortable leaving- sad, yes, but not worried. He knew Thaniel and Oliver were in good hands with Art. He trusted the two halves of his best friend to Art.

Art knows, tragically, that he's going to die soon after. He mentions it to the player, and in the epilogue, he sends this note to the player:

To an old acquaintance, I write to you from the sunny porch of the Last Light Inn. A light breeze blows now and then. People are milling in and out - builders, visitors, the children of all ages in Halsin's care. I can no longer hold a quill, or eat without assistance - a kind friend is transcribing this for me. Thaniel, re-joined with Oliver, has promised to be with me when the end comes, and as our old songs drift on the wind, ever louder, I know I have mere days left. But I do not fear it. If not for your help, this land would still be shrouded in darkness, and I'd still be lost within it. Know that my heart is full and happy, and I am grateful for my last moments. Do visit some day. And if you have time to stop by an old Flaming Fist's grave, I know I'd love to see you. Art Cullagh

Halsin and Art are still in contact. Art lived long enough to get to see Reithwin being reconstructed- by Halsin. Halsin lifted his shadow, Thaniel and Oliver's shadow, and brought Art peace during his last days- including the peace of having his close friends with him as the end comes. And presumably, Halsin himself stays- it's hard to imagine that Halsin, of all people, wouldn't.

They just work really well as a tragic ship, brought together by loss and heartbreak.

Fittingly, that extends into scenarios when one of them dies. If Halsin dies before act 2, or dies when the portal collapses, and the player tells Art this, he is heartbroken- while he frames it primarily in terms of being sad the curse can never be broken now, he must also be sad that Thaniel's friend has been lost, too.

And if Art dies (either because Last Light fell or for some other reason) and the player learns what they need from Art's corpse? Well.... let's just say that Halsin has some VERY strong things to say for someone he barely knows.

Halsin: That is what I needed to know. It should be cause for joy, but... that poor man didn't have to die.

Player: His existence was worse than death. Now he's at peace, and we have what we need.

Halsin: True. But are we still deserving? Only time and nature can tell.

To think that he might not be worthy any longer of breaking the Shadow Curse because a man he barely knows died is.... quite an intense emotion. Almost illogical, and Halsin is an extremely reasonable person. Make of that what you will.

Alternatively:

Player: There was no other way.

Halsin: You can claim it so... but I don't think it will ever be true. Oak Father willing, we will soon lift the curse from this place. But I suspect a shadow will linger here, because of what was done to that man.

Again... these are VERY intense emotions. Understandably so, of course- Art was clearly Thaniel's friend, and he suffered so much only to die. But if Last Light falls, MANY people die besides Art, yet Halsin is focused on him- the only other person he mentions with quite this much grief is Isobel, and even she doesn't get a mention from him here. "A shadow will linger here, because of what was done to that man"? Not "what was done to those people" or even "what was done to Art and the others"? It is.... a very interesting way of phrasing it.

In conclusion: Halsin cares Art A LOT, Art deserves peace and happiness, and Thaniel and Oliver deserve two daddies. Flaming Bear is the ultimate tragic doomed ship and we are sleeping on this ship

[rxttenbxnes]

Hello! Do you have any fun headcanons to share about Idia? Honestly, I just find it painful to see how badly this guy gets butchered in headcanons sometimes. People always forget that he is in fact a complete ass with a massive superiority-inferiority complex and not just a sad boi, or they overplay the weeb part and ignore how he has other interests like science and art, or they make him too pathetic by assuming he would still be a blushing incoherent mess like a year into marriage, etc. Anyway, it’d just be nice to hear the headcanons of an actual Idia fan since that’s the only way to get anything sane.

Omg totally, first I'mma do a little rant, I'll make sure to label where the HCS begin so y'all don't have to read my rants 😭

܀⊹ ིྀ🕸 ۫ ִ ׂ💭 ◟♡ ˒ ⊹ ݁ ִ  ۫🎮ೄྀ⊹܀

❱❱﹒⟡﹒𝑅𝑎𝑛𝑡﹢﹒🎮

Okay we gotta acknowledge the fact idia is indeed, an asshole you guys. 💀Well not completely obviously but he's not just gonna be nice to you for no reason. He's not just some depressed dude needing sympathy.

The way Idia is so Infantilzed by the fandom it's actually gets me tweakin, You guys this actually makes me mad, he's not some sensitive bottom uwu boy that stutters 50 times every sentence In fact I honestly cannot see him being submissive half of the time, this man is actually a asshole on the low. Most people get the fact that idia would be submissive from his shy and closed off personality which is just SO wrong to me.

Idia is extremely pessimistic and if we're being real Idia is actually not a good narrator for his own experiences, the constant self deprecation mixed in with his his thoughts about being superior to others is so fascinating to me, one moment he sees himself as nothing but a piece of trash while in the next moment he's boasting about how he's the only one component enough to be ignihyde's dorm leader. He's such a complex character I can Yap about him constantly

I get making jokes and stuff but some people genuinely think idia is some stinky incel creep that hates women and just purposely chooses to not go outside and be chronically online. Like yeah, he has nerdy and loser like hobbies but this man literally has trauma and chronic depression, along with an anxiety disorder, it's not something he can just make disappear. He likes science, engineering, art, anime, games etc which is all just cool, it's not like he's some creep that's afraid to talk to people, nor is he some super submissive guy that'll fold for you in a tiny interaction.

Had to get ts off my chest 💀

܀⊹ ིྀ🕸 ۫ ִ ׂ💭 ◟♡ ˒ ⊹ ݁ ִ  ۫🎮ೄྀ⊹܀

܀⊹ ིྀ𝐼𝑑𝑖𝑎 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠 🎮ೄྀ⊹܀

🎧 Caramelldansen. Idia adores this song unironically. At first he had just saw the meme and quickly ended up falling into the whole thing, laying on the floor completely dazed out of his mind as the colorful lights flash in the background from the music video playing on repeat lol

🎮 I said this in my earlier post but Idia definitely draws his crushes all the time. Luckily he has a little self control and draws anime/manga characters in most of the pages, he's really protective over his sketch book due to 1.) His social anxiety and 2.) The fact that he doesn't want anyone to know that he likes drawing and observing people, especially his crushes.

🎧 Idia constantly has his headphones on, I know of a fact that Idia listens to Nightcore, anime OSTs, Vocaloid, animation meme music, Vkei, video game sound tracks and breakcore religiously. I think idia would honestly listen to everything he can get his hands on

🎮 I feel like he had a 2020 alt kid phase lol. I feel like quarantine would've been his time to thrive, his peak enjoyment of life would be set during this time lol. Being able to express himself like he wanted without others seeing??? Sign him up

🎧 Ironically, he's not super weak. I feel like he just sucks at physical activity, especially running since he doesn't leave his room much. His hands/fist are definitely strong, I feel like he has a strong hit.

🎮 That being said, I think Idia’s hands are large, thin and boney. They definitely have a few scars and calluses from all the machinery he works with, you can't tell me that his hands aren't pretty rough.

🎧 Idia is a fashion icon, in games. Not irl, he would never due to the attention it would grab him, though he definitely is into all of the alternative and Gothic fashion stuff. He'll give his characters the most perfect and pretty outfits and make sure everything is customized perfectly, not mind at all if it takes him hours to do so.

🎮 This man definitely collects figures. I feel like they're all anime and video game figures; he's even commission artist and such to make custom work of his favorite interest and brag online about it.

🎧 Has an habit of repeating words and phrases he likes over and over again. It doesn't matter if it's from an obscure meme that literally only 5 people including him know or if it's in a different language, he'll constantly reference and repeat it like no tomorrow.

🎮 He's a biter. He bites a lot of things randomly, he'd bite someone out of love if he got the chance. I'm telling you he'll just naw on random stuff, not caring if it's edible or not. It could literally be a plushy and he'll randomly bite it while he's hugging it.

🎧 Idia definitely finds confort in the rain and gloom weather. Really, he just enjoys typically gloomy things. It's extremely comforting and relaxing to him to just be able to sit on his bed with his headphones on while it rains harshly outside, making the world around him dark and gloomy.

🎮 Curses, like a lot. Gamer rage is real you guys and he definitely has it. If he loses a game too many times or gets too frustrated with his teammates, he'll curse like a sailor. His anger isn't directly to his teammates or anything, it's of him being frustrated with everything in general.

܀⊹ ིྀ🕸 ۫ ִ ׂ💭 ◟♡ ˒ ⊹ ݁ ִ  ۫🎮ೄྀ⊹܀

[klapollo]

“Madame Morrible, if you please,” said Elphaba, “we never had an opportunity to discuss the Quells that you recited in the parlor last week.” “Discuss,” said Madame Morrible with a generous though shooing wave of the bangled hands. “Well, Doctor Dillamond seemed to think they were in questionable taste, given the Banns on Animal Mobility.” “Doctor Dillamond, alas,” said Madame Morrible, “is a doctor. He is not a poet. He is also a Goat, and I might ask you girls if we have ever had a great Goat sonneteer or balladeer? Alas, dear Miss Elphaba, Doctor Dillamond doesn’t understand the poetic convention of irony. Would you like to define irony for the class, please?” “I don’t believe I can, Madame.” “Irony, some say, is the art of juxtaposing incongruous parts. One needs a knowing distance. Irony presupposes detachment, which, alas, in the case of Animal Rights, we may forgive Doctor Dillamond for being without.”

“So that phrase that he objected to-Animals should be seen and not heard-that was ironic?” continued Elphaba, studying her papers and not looking at Madame Morrible. Galinda and her classmates were enthralled, for it was clear that each of the females at opposite ends of the room would have enjoyed seeing the other crumple in a sudden attack of the spleen. “One could consider it in an ironic mode if one chose,” said Madame Morrible. “How do you choose?” said Elphaba. “How impertinent!” said Madame Morrible. “Well, but I don’t mean impertinence. I’m trying to learn. If you- if anyone-thought that statement was true, then it isn’t in conflict with the boring bossy bit that preceded it. It’s just argument and conclusion, and I don’t see the irony.” “You don’t see much, Miss Elphaba,” said Madame Morrible. “You must learn to put yourself in the shoes of someone wiser than you are, and look from that angle. To be stuck in ignorance, to be circumscribed by the walls of one’s own modest acumen, well, it Is very sad in one so young and bright.” She spit out the last word, and it seemed to Galinda, somehow, a low comment on Elphaba’s skin color, which today was indeed lustrous with the effort of public speaking. “But I was trying to put myself in the shoes of Doctor Dillamond,” said Elphaba, almost whining, but not giving up. “In the case of poetic interpretation, I venture to suggest, it may indeed be true. Animals should not be heard,” snapped Madame Morrible. “Do you mean that ironically?” said Elphaba, but she sat down with her hands over her face, and did not look up again for the rest of the session.

-wicked: the life and times of the wicked witch of the west (1995), gregory maguire

[blackswaneuroparedux]

My mother was right: When you've got nothing left, all you can do is get into silk underwear and start reading Proust.

Jane Birkin

...or spend one night in bed with Brigitte Bardot. As a much older male literary friend once said to me , one night with Brigitte Bardot would make up for not reading Proust and answer any existential questions one would have about life and meaning.

Unfortunately most of don't have that luxury and so the next best thing to do is to try and read Proust.

‘À la recherche du temps perdu’ (In Search of Lost Time) is a novel dedicated thoroughly and deeply to love. In a sense, it serves as a compendium of the different ways we can love, do love, and should love. Of course, one of its central insights is into the ways that we shouldn’t love - whether that means loving the wrong person or in the wrong way. If you’ve ever wondered whether Proust is more about love or heartbreak you realise, once you’ve actually read him, you realise you can’t cleanly separate the two. Proust routinely explores the very specific strain of sadness that can only occur in romance. In doing so it is also in part about virtue, vice, prejudice, and folly.

Reading Proust expands your universe and your inner life for at the core is a set of big, wonderful, difficult questions about life.  Here are a few of them: how we can feel at home in the world; how we can find genuine connection with other human beings; how we can find enchantment in a world without God or if indeed is it possible; how art can transform our lives; whether an artist’s life can shed light on her work; what we can know about reality, other people, and ourselves; when not knowing is better than knowing; who we are really, deep down; what memory tells us about our inner world; why it might be good to think of our life as a story; and how we can feel like a single, unified person when we are torn apart by competing desires and change over time.

Moreover to read Proust is to read about ourselves through someone else trying - and ultimately failing, as we all fail - to capture the past. We are interested in our pasts, not least because our past has made us what we are. Our past is filed with treasures and disappointments, missed opportunities, and regrets, all of which fascinate us: the full value of the treasures can never be recovered, but as compensation we have the rest to mull over as we sip our tea and take a bite of a Madeleine.

RIP Jane Birkin (1946-2023)