#no one is ever going to know the dark origins to those drawings | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hauntedhowlett-writes · 2 years ago

Text

title: stranger than a stranger

pairing: pre-boston raider!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 4964

summary:

When Joel sees you searching for supplies in an old school, he removes your companion from the equation and convinces you that you need to join him for your survival.

author's note: a gift for @dreamingofdaddydin, fellow depraved slut, who sent in an ask that i completely changed. please heed the warnings on this one, as there are dark and potentially triggering elements. if you do decide to read and you enjoy, please consider reblogging or commenting!

content warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), undefined age gap, no use of y/n, post-outbreak/pre-boston QZ, dark!joel miller, perv!joel miller, survival as coercion/manipulation, dub/non-con somnophilia (the actions are not agreed upon before hand but reader is receptive once waking), sex as a thank you, voyeurism, masturbation, canon typical violence (mentions guns, knives, blood), handjobs, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, baby, honey), cum eating, huddling for warmth but manipulative, wet dreams, thigh fucking, fingering, unprotected p in v. please let me know if any are missing!

You never expected to live through an apocalypse. In fact, before the cordyceps outbreak, you and your boyfriend had watched Night of the Living Dead and you joked that if the time ever came, just throw you to the zombies or demons or whatever hell unleashed.

Yet here you are, ten years post-outbreak and the collapse of one QZ that you and your boyfriend had been living in, climbing through a destroyed school building, picking your way through rubble as you follow Liam in his search for more supplies.

“The stores around here are probably picked clean, but a lot of people don’t think about checking schools. They’ve got plenty of non-perishables in the cafeteria. Remember? We ate like shit growing up,” Liam explains. He shines a flashlight down a hall. “Well, I guess we ate better than we do now.”

“I miss chicken nuggets,” you lament. He chuckles.

“I could definitely use a cheeseburger,” Liam replies.

You continue moving quietly through the school, the cement and linoleum cracked by overgrowth and the abandoned classrooms of overturned desks making you feel like you’re in a whole different world and not just in an elementary school in Massachusetts.

“You got your knife and gun, right?” Liam asks quietly. You nod, pulling the gun from the waist of your jeans and showing it to him. “Good, keep it handy. You know those fuckers are always hiding around buildings like this.”

You and Liam had just started dating when the outbreak occurred, and you managed to stick together for the last ten years. He’s taught you a lot about survival - shooting a gun, starting a fire, and finding edible vegetation in the woods, among other skills. Despite your original desire to be spared from an apocalypse, you’ve somehow managed to persevere.

“Remember to aim for the head,” Liam says.

You roll your eyes. “No, I figured I’d aim for a foot. Of course I’m aiming for the head.”

“Alright, smart ass. You go down that hall and see what you can find.” He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m gonna look for the cafeteria. Meet me back here.”

With another nod, you part ways.

You both miss the figure lurking in the shadows.

________

Joel watches you disappear around a corner before his attention returns to your companion. The man walks quickly in the opposite direction, holding only a flashlight in his hands. Joel clocks a holster on his hip that must hold a gun or a knife. The man looks like the type to know how to fight, weapons or not.

Too bad Joel is the predator here.

He leaves the dark shadow he’d hidden himself in, following the man with quick, quiet steps. The other man seems alert, but not alert enough to notice Joel following him.

Good.

Joel watches the man draw a gun from the holster, holding it in front of him as he kicks open a set of double doors, sweeping his flashlight and gun into the darkness beyond. Joel slips through the door before it shuts, darkness surrounding him as he lets his eyes adjust.

It looks like a gymnasium, cracked hardwood basketball flooring with faded court lines illuminated in the small flashlight beam of the man, who continues across the court and out another set of double doors.

He follows him back out to a hallway, brightly lit thanks to a hole in the ceiling, crumbled plaster and cement littering the ground. He takes a few steps closer, stopping when he hears a clicking sound that sends a shiver down his spine.

The man freezes, too, eyes wide, hands tightening on his gun. Joel slowly brings the shotgun slung over his back around to his front, taking it up in his hands.

The clicking grows louder, more insistent. It echoes down the hallway and Joel knows that the creature is aware of their presence. No matter how quiet you are, those fuckers know how to find you.

He aims his gun, finger poised on the trigger. Heavy footsteps approach from the end of the hall, punctuated by the clicking noise that makes his hair stand on end. The creature enters the hall, overgrowth of cordyceps blocking its eyes and features. It pauses, head turning with jerky motions as it seeks out its prey. He watches the other man shift his stance, trying to widen his legs, but his foot catches a rock, sending it sliding across the floor.

The creature’s head snaps at the sound and it ambles closer, faster. Joel takes aim, pulling the trigger and blowing its head across the room. The man turns in surprise.

“Damn, man. Thanks,” he says, taking a deep breath and giving Joel a smile of gratitude. He reaches a hand out as he says, “I’m Li—“

He pulls the trigger and the man collapses to the ground face first, blood rapidly pooling beneath his body.

Joel approaches, crouching beside him. He opens the bag on his back, rifling through the contents for anything that might be of use. There’s a med kit, ammo for the handgun he’d been using, gloves, a jacket, and a hunting knife. He shoves all of it into his own bag before grabbing the gun beside the man’s body as he stands.

Joel slides the gun into his waistband before turning and heading back the way he came. He imagines the gunshots will have you rushing back to investigate.

Just like he wanted.

________

You hear two gunshots go off, freezing in your exploration of a classroom. You listen closely, ears straining for any sign of clicker activity due to the noise as you slowly draw your gun from your waistband. Hearing nothing in the aftermath of the gunshots, you race back towards the area where Liam had agreed to meet you, heart racing as your mind begs you to choose flight and not fight.

In your panic, you don’t notice the man in the hall until you’re colliding against him, his arms gripping your shoulders to steady you.

“Who the fuck are you?” You ask, scrambling out of his hold and pointing your gun at him. He’s tall with broad shoulders, a flannel beneath a faded denim jacket stretching over his frame. He has tan skin and dark hair with brown eyes that look at you with concern. “Back the fuck up,” you shout.

The man takes a step back, holding his hands up. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

“I heard gunshots. Where’s Liam?”

“I came up on a guy fightin’ a clicker. He was in bad shape,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a buzzing in your ears as your brain catches up to his words. You blink, eyes burning with tears that you fight back.

“H-he’s dead?” You whisper.

“‘Fraid so.”

You drop to your hands and knees with the realization, gasping for a breath that won’t reach your lungs. There’s movement from the corner of your eye, the strange man taking a step closer, and you raise your gun once more.

“Don’t,” you snap. “Come any closer and I’ll shoot.”

“Listen. I’m sorry about your friend. But if there’s one clicker, there’s bound to be more. You can come with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. I’ll be fine on my own.” You keep the gun trained on him as you slowly stand on shaky legs. “I’m leaving now. Don’t fucking follow me.”

You only make it a few steps before he’s calling out after you. “There’s worse things out there than the infected. Girl like you won’t last long.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“It means,” he says, the tone of his voice grating your nerves, “that there are bad fuckin’ people out there, ones that’ll take advantage of a girl headin’ out on her own. Some who won’t give a shit that a gun is bein’ pointed at their heads if it means they die tryin’ to bring you down with ‘em. Is that really somethin’ you wanna go through right now?”

Your resolve waivers. He’s probably right. In the ten years you’ve been struggling to survive, you’ve always had Liam at your back. Even in the QZ, before it collapsed, he kept you going. You could survive out there when it came to skill, but would you make it far on your own when clickers move in packs and raiders run rampant?

“I…I guess I’ll come with you,” you say, lowering your weapon. You flick the safety on and the man smiles.

“The name’s Joel.”

________

It’s been a week since joining Joel. The two of you keep a steady pace in your travels, though there’s no real destination in mind. He’s been on his own for a while, he tells you, having split from his brother who had gone to join the Fireflies in their fight.

“Fuckin’ stupid if you ask me,” he grumbled after telling you that little bit of information. “They ain’t gonna change shit.”

You just nod along, wrapped up in your own thoughts. You can’t pinpoint it, but something about Joel makes you wary of him. He’s been nice enough, sure, but there’s something off about the way he looks at you.

You’ll catch the older man staring at your ass when you’re walking ahead of him, or see the way his eyes go dark when you’re on your knees starting a fire. His hands will linger on your hips a little longer than necessary when he’s helping you jump down from something, or he’ll watch a little too intently as your lips wrap around the mouth of your water bottle.

What’s worse is how it makes you feel hot all over when you shouldn’t feel anything, least of all attraction when you’ve just lost your boyfriend.

It’s starting to get cold at night. The days are still tolerable, since you’re always on the move and the sun is shining, but once the sky goes dark, you struggle to stay warm. You layer your two jackets and even that’s still not enough as you lay shivering in your sleeping bag. You turn over until you’re facing where Joel has his bag set up, curling your legs closer to your chest and squeezing your eyes shut.

Past the sound of your teeth chattering, you hear the shift of fabric, the glide of skin on skin, a low groan. Your eyes snap open and as they adjust to the inky darkness, you can make out the vague shape of Joel on the ground. Another choked off moan rings in your ear, the sound of it making your blood go hot. You listen as his movements and breaths and sounds grow more frantic, the desperation they’re laced with making you rub your thighs together as subtly as you can.

“Fuck, fuck,” Joel pants quietly. The air goes still, the sound of his hand moving over his cock slowing to a stop. You wonder where he’s finished. In his hand? On his belly? Your brain conjures an image of you licking the spend from his skin, salty taste of him on your tongue as you look up into his eyes and he groans.

You have to bite your lip to keep your sounds to yourself. You wiggle a hand between your legs, clamping your thighs around it tightly and rocking slightly. It’s not nearly enough and it’s so frustrating you want to scream.

Eventually, as the adrenaline seeps from your body, sleep takes its place, your eyes fluttering shut as darkness consumes you.

You dream of bitten off groans and curses in a voice that belongs to a stranger with dark hair and brown eyes.

________

Two weeks after joining the two of you encounter your first band of raiders.

You’re in a small town picking through a convenience store. There’s a surprising amount of things left on the shelves, including cans of food that you’re tossing into your backpack when the sound of a gun being cocked makes you freeze.

“Hey, pretty girl. Why don’t you put some of that back for the rest of us, yeah?” An unfamiliar voice says. You glance over your shoulder, a large man with a thick beard smiling at you. You turn slowly, hands raised and mind racing with your options.

He’s blocking the exit. You could try to dart around him, but the gun trained at your head is a bit of a worry. Your own gun is in the waistband of your pants, pressing against your low back. Not much help to you like that. You should have been holding it the whole time.

“Hand over your fucking bag,” he says, the calm in his more alarming than if he were yelling at you. “Got me some food and a pretty little pet to keep, too.”

Your blood turns to ice and your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you swallow hard, bending down to grab your bag.

A shot rings out, glass shattering and you shout, dropping lower to the ground. You open your eyes slowly, you gaze landing on the body of the man lying on the ground in a rapidly expanding pool of blood. You look up, eyes finding Joel’s beyond the shattered window of the convenience store as he lowers his gun.

A shout has Joel whirling, gun drawn as three men appear from an alley. He shoots, one of the men dropping. Grabbing your bag, you rush to the front of the store as another shot rings out, shattering the glass of the door. You drop to the ground, pressing your back to the wall beside the window and peeking out.

Joel slings his gun over his back, landing a kick to a man that rushes him, the stranger landing on his back. A second man points a gun at Joel.

“On your fuckin’ knees!” He barks.

Panic courses through you, but you reach behind you, grabbing your gun. You switch the safety off, leaning from your hiding spot to take aim through the window at the man. Your hands shake as you take a breath in, like Liam taught you, pulling the trigger as you exhale.

The shot lands in the man’s abdomen, making him stumble and drop his weapon. Joel stands, rushing for the man as he pulls a large knife from his hip, plunging the blade into the man’s chest.

The man he kicked is getting to his hands and knees when Joel turns on him, knife held at his hip. A wicked grin spreads across his face before he plants his boot against the man’s ribs, knocking him onto his side. Joel shoves at him with his foot until the man is on his back and he stands over him, a foot on either side of his hips.

Joel raises the knife above his head before swinging it down into the man’s chest, holding it there for a moment before he twists it savagely and pulls it free. You stand there, equal parts horrified and something worse, eyes wide as you watch Joel wipe the blade against the man’s clothes to clean it.

“Get their guns, will ya?” Joel calls out. The sound of his voice makes you jump, your muscles finally spurring into action as you comply with his request.

Later, as you settle in for the night in your respective sleeping bags, you hear the tell-tale sound of shifting fabric and bitten off moans. You stare up at the dark sky, pinpricks of starlight winking back at you, as you gather your courage.

“Joel?” You murmur. The sounds stop abruptly, the only thing you can hear is his heavy breathing.

“Thought you were sleepin’,” he grunts.

You turn over on your side, facing him. You can barely make him out in the dark, only his silhouette, but your heart beats faster all the same as you say, “I could…help.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, so long that you’ve got an apology on the tip of your tongue when you hear the zip of his sleeping bag being opened.

“Come help, then.”

________

Joel tries to contain his enthusiasm. Nights of coming into his own palm while he knows you’re listening, imagining your hand around his cock instead of his, and now his patience has finally paid off.

You’re crawling across the grass to join him in his sleeping bag, your body pressed to his in the tight space. He takes a shuddering breath, the feel of your heat alone almost enough to make him come.

Your hand rests on his belly, tentatively sliding lower until your fingers brush against the hair at the base of his cock. He hisses as your cold hand grips him at the base, slowly sliding up to his leaking tip. Your thumb circles his slit, smearing a bead of precum around the sensitive head as he groans into the night.

“That’s it, baby,” Joel says. Your face is tucked against his neck, and he wishes you’d turn your face up, let him kiss you, but he has to be smart and only take what you’ll give so that one day you’ll offer more. “Tighter, just like that, fuck.”

Joel’s hips flex to chase your fist, the soft feel of your palm driving him wild. He moans, louder than he should be given the vulnerable position this puts you both in, but he doesn’t give a fuck. All he cares about is you.

“This a ‘thank you’, huh? For killin’ those guys?” Joel pants. Your head nods against his neck and the admission makes his head feel light and fuzzy. “Told ya you needed me, sweetheart. Needed someone to take care of you, right?”

You hum, squirming against him. Your lips graze his neck and that’s the final nail in his coffin, his cock pulsing in your hand as he comes harder than he has in years. He can’t help but whine a little when you let go, already missing the warmth and the softness of it.

“Clean it up for me, baby,” Joel says. You bring your hand up, nothing but a dark shape against darker air, and he hears you licking at the cum coating your fingers. “That taste good?”

“Mhm,” you hum. When you’re done, you roll away from him, crawling back over to your sleeping bag and zipping yourself inside.

With a sigh, Joel shimmies his jeans back up his thighs before turning on his side, letting the sounds of the night lull him to sleep.

________

You’ve been with Joel for a month when winter really starts to settle in and you’re forced to keep moving in your travels until you’ve found abandoned buildings to sleep in to stay out of the harsh winter air. While the snow might not reach you inside, the cold certainly does.

It’s one such night that Joel suggests sharing body heat.

“It’s the best thing we can do to keep warm,” he explains. “Can’t keep a fire goin’ inside. Too dangerous.”

You swallow nervously. He’s zipping together your sleeping bags so that you can fit beside each other, laying it on the ground of the old stockroom you’ve barricaded yourselves in for the night, a little camping lamp on a metal shelf providing a little light.

Joel kneels to untie his boots, removing one then the other and setting them aside. He stands, sliding his arms free of his jacket and setting it on the shelf. When he starts to unbutton his flannel, your blood rushes in your ears.

“W-what are you doing?” You ask. He pauses, hands on his buttons.

“Gettin’ undressed. Can’t share body heat with clothes in the way.”

You stand there frozen as he continues to strip, t-shirt and jeans and boxers all joining his growing pile of clothes until he’s naked in front of you and you’re struggling to keep your eyes on his face with so much muscle and skin on display. He slides into the sleeping bag, staring up at you expectantly.

“You gonna stand there all night?” He asks, lips tilted in a little smirk. “Come on. We’ve come a long way today and you gotta be tired.”

You’re exhausted, really, the kind of tired that settles into your bones and makes your limbs heavy. Slowly, you follow the same steps as he did to undress, starting with your shoes. It doesn’t escape your notice that he’s watching you with dark eyes the entire time, until you’re down to your underwear.

“Those, too,” Joel says.

“Why?”

“I don’t make the rules, sweetheart, I just follow ‘em. Skin to skin is the only way this’ll work.”

Reluctantly, you reach behind your back to unclip your bra, letting it fall to the floor. Your nipples are tight in the cold room and you grit your teeth against their chattering as you quickly tug your panties down your legs and add them to your pile of clothing.

You slip into the sleeping bag beside Joel, the heat of his body immediately making you feel warm all over. You zip up the sleeping bag, cocooning your bodies in the insulation. Joel turns on his side, sliding his muscular around your tummy and tugging you closer. The hard length of his cock presses to your thigh and you lie perfectly still, afraid to move.

“Go to sleep,” he grunts. You close your eyes, the tension slowly leaving your muscles as you listen to his deep breathing in the dark room.

Somewhere between the warmth of his body and the feel of his breath against your cheek, sleep finds you.

________

Sometime in the night, you’ve turned on your side, your ass pressed snugly against Joel’s hips with his cock slipped between your cheeks. He wakes to the feel of you grinding against his length and his arm tightens around your middle as he groans.

“Joel,” you murmur. He lifts his head to see if you’re awake, but your eyes are shut, brows pinched together. Your hips move against him again and he bites into his lower lip to keep his sounds contained, not wanting to wake you and ruin this.

You murmur his name again and his head drops back to the arm he’d been using as a pillow. He gives a little experimental thrust of his hips and you moan, the sound making his cock jump against you.

With careful movements, he lifts your top leg, laying it over his hip. He lets his hand drift lower, gliding over your tummy until he’s cupping your pussy gently. His fingers slide through your wetness, catching on your swollen clit and making your hips jerk.

Joel worries that you’re awake, but you’re not scrambling from his grip yet. He circles his fingers slowly, so slowly, your hips moving against him and your breathing coming more quickly. You let out little whimpers and whines that Joel wants to commit to memory, the sound of them sure to plague him any time he closes his eyes.

You’re growing wetter and Joel grows bolder, slipping his middle finger into your tight entrance, not able to hold back his moan of appreciation over how your cunt flutters around the digit as he slowly pumps it inside of you.

Another whimper of his name from your lips has his sanity fraying further, his hand moving faster against you, damn the consequences of you waking up to him playing with your pussy. Your muscles go tight against him with your release before going limp, your breath stuttering. He lifts his head once more to check if you’re asleep, surprised to find your face lax with bliss, eyes still closed as your breathing slows to normal.

Joel withdraws his hand, using it to grip his cock, sliding your juices over his length. He angles himself to where his cock is pressed up against your lips before gently lowering your leg. He’s surrounded by warmth, your pussy and thighs cradling him perfectly.

He thrusts his hips, his cock gliding through your wetness with ease. He loses himself to the slick glide, the tip of his cock catching against your swollen clit with each thrust. His fingers dig into the meat of your hip for leverage, pulling you back towards him as he groans against your shoulder.

Your muscles go stiff against him and he freezes as you whisper, “Joel?”

His name is a question this time and he knows he’s been caught.

“It can be another ‘thank you’, yeah? For keepin’ you warm?” He asks, dragging his nose across your bare shoulder. “Could feel so good for us both,” he whispers, thrusting against your clit and reveling in the shaky moan you give him in return.

“O-okay,” you stutter. Joel presses a kiss to your shoulder in gratitude as he returns to the rhythm he’d set before you woke. He slides an arm over your middle, hand finding your breast and gripping it forcefully as you moan.

“That feel good, baby?” He asks. You nod, whining and squirming against him now. “Know what would feel better?”

“W-what?”

He draws back, positioning the tip of his cock against your hole. Your breath catches as he slides inside the slightest amount. Just the tip.

“Would feel so good, right? Fillin’ you up, stretchin’ you,” he whispers. “You could keep me warm just like I’ve been keepin’ you warm all night.” You clench around him and he moans, hips flexing and sliding him deeper into you as you gasp. “So goddamn wet and tight.”

Joel slides the last bit deeper, until his hips are flush to your ass. You’re panting, cunt fluttering around him as you adjust, and he feels drunk on the feel of it, on the feel of you. He pulls out part way before sliding back in with a harsh thrust, the start of a punishing rhythm that has you chanting his name.

The slick slide of you over his cock feels like heaven, but he wants more, wants you cock drunk and earning your pleasure. You are supposed to be thanking him, after all.

He pulls out, lying on his back. “Get up here, sweetheart. It’s time to do your part.”

You turn until you’re facing him, and Joel gets impatient, grabbing at you until he can haul you into his lap, your slick, swollen pussy gliding over his cock. He groans, reaching between your bodies to hold himself steady, notching the thick head at your entrance.

“Take it, baby, come on,” he groans. You rock back until his cock is buried in your cunt, your knees pressing tight against his hips as you whine.

“S’deep,” you slur, rocking yourself over him.

“Feels good though, doesn’t it? So fuckin’ deep in you,” he growls. Your chest is pressed to his, your lips so close he takes his chance, slotting his mouth against yours.

You kiss him back, messy and desperate, moaning against his lips as you take his cock like you were made for it. And maybe you were. Why else would he have been in the right place at the right time, getting the chance to keep you all for himself?

You sit up further, hands planted on his chest as you ride him with fervor. Your blunt fingernails dig into his skin and make him groan, hips punching up into you as you rock back. When you moan desperately, he does it again, and again, until you’re letting out a choked little sob that makes his cock pulse inside of you.

“Come for me, honey, wanna feel this pretty pussy choke my cock,” Joel demands. He can feel your walls flutter around him, your noises growing desperate. He brings a hand to your clit, thumb circling the sensitive bundle of nerves until you tighten around him, squeezing his cock as you come undone with a shout.

You collapse forward and Joel wraps his arms around your low back, holding you steady as he plants his feet and pounds his cock into you with harsh thrusts, chasing his release. Your teeth dig into the sensitive skin of his neck and the sharp sting sends him over the edge. He pulls out at the last moment, his cum splashing between your bodies in thick spurts.

You lie on top of him, catching your breath. Sweat grows sticky on Joel’s skin as the cool air settles around them, your back erupting in goosebumps as you shiver. He maneuvers your bodies until you’re cradled against him again.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

When you nestle closer, body lax against his, he smiles in triumph.

_______

You wake before Joel the next morning, body sticky with the mess from the night. You cringe, wiggling away from Joel’s hold. You find your discarded shirt and water bottle, intending to soak the fabric to wipe yourself clean, only to find your bottle is empty.

You locate Joel’s backpack, knowing he keeps his water bottle in there. You dig through the contents, hand bumping against the familiar bulk of a handgun. Your brow furrows. You haven’t seen Joel use a handgun. He uses the shotgun on his back, the other weapons you’d collected from the raiders stored in your bag.

You pull the weapon free and inspect it. You know this gun. It’s the same gun you’d learn to shoot with, the first one Liam found in the aftermath of the outbreak. Your blood turns to ice.

Joel said he’d seen Liam get attacked by a clicker. If that’s the case, when did he get Liam’s gun?

The sound of Joel moving in the sleeping bag has you shoving the gun back into his bag and grabbing the water bottle you’d gone in search of in the first place.

You’ll have to worry about your discovery some other day.

Want more Joel Miller? Check out the masterlist

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #joel tlou #joel x reader #dark joel miller #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic request #joel miller masterlist #the last of us

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flame-shadow · 4 months ago

Text

A breakdown of my quirrel!nosk comic from last year (original post here) since I like doing breakdowns and talking about my process, and I know at least some people like reading those things. :)

First of all, a little background. I made that comic in an evening with just a pencil, a black marker, two grey markers, and a yellow-orange marker. (All markers had a thick tip and a thin tip, and all were water-based markers, so they don't blend like alcohol markers, but they can still be layered to affect the values) I had a text post from @g0at0ad saved in my drafts that said "gotta say. massive missed opportunity to not have nosk mimic quirrel to lure the knight into its lair." and finally, I had an idea for how to illustrate the reveal and felt I had a decent idea for the nosk's design.

I wanted to follow the same encounter order as the game provides, and by happy coincidence, I realized that the route from first sighting to nosk den includes the hot spring, so it made perfect sense for that location and the real Quirrel to appear in the comic.

Ghost spots a Quirrel-like figure in the darkness in the first panel, and then as the path continues and drops into the hot spring, there's (real) Quirrel, so clearly that's who Ghost saw a minute ago. Yay, friend! And since Quirrel explores around, it's not strange that Ghost would spot him again in an area not so far away, though it's odd how he got ahead of them. Perhaps a different tunnel? And it seems like Quirrel wants to lead the way to something, so Ghost follows, until- That's not Quirrel.

In addition to the potential of a reader already knowing the game's locations and recognizing the path to the nosk's den, there are other visual clues that subtly communicate that something might not be right. I made it so every panel but the hot spring one has black silhouettes encroaching on the space within.

The third panel is the mildest one being encroached upon because Ghost doesn't yet feel like something is off (still reassured from seeing Quirrel in the safe hot spring) but the trap is coming together. The existence of the spider web in the corner is a nod to the trap because it's a common visual symbol for being trapped.

Also note how both the first and third panels have some safety via straight panel edges. Contrasted with the fourth and fifth panels which have no straight edges as Ghost cannot escape and there is no safety.

Another subtle reinforcement of danger vs safety is how the use of black is very limited in the hot spring panel. It's a brighter room mechanically, yes, but it's also a Safe Room. The only black is Ghost's void parts and a thin outline around Quirrel (and also a bit of shading on his arm that I did out of habit before remembering that I wasn't going to use black to shade him here, oops!)

And, note that in the only panel with Real Quirrel, he isn't framed against a darker shape in the background.

Okay, and finally, I will share a bit about the nosk reveal panel and its design...

This pose and angle are dramatic and all, but they're The Worst for showcasing the actual design of the nosk! Just a complete mistake on my part that I did my best to roll with, since I didn't realize until too late how I'd messed myself up.

Which happens! I don't always get it right, and especially when I'm working traditionally, there's a point where I can't go back, so I just have to make do with what I gave myself. :) I don't hate what I have here, but I have been dissatisfied with it ever since I drew the lineart.

A thought I have had since then was that maybe I should've drawn it larger, to be more threatening? Maybe a different pose to show off the side-body frills? I explored a couple ideas below, but honestly, I think the whole panel would have to be reworked to get it right.

Making sure that the background frames the nosk effectively would be one of the main things I'd redo, but I'm getting tired and don't feel like drawing more, so I'll just leave it at the nosk replacement sketches.

And since I don't think I did a good job with displaying the nosk's design effectively, I quickly sketched some of the features to maybe show them off a bit better.

I like the gimmick of the nosk turning its head, so I pretty much always maintain that with my nosk designs. This one is no exception. Quirrel's head and face become the cranium and upper jaw while Monomon's mask becomes the lower jaw - the extra length causes an underbite. I've always been a fan of when people add a veil hanging from Monomon's mask while Quirrel is wearing it, so that's where the frills come from. ("Why didn't you include the veil in your Quirrel drawings, then?" I hear you ask. And honestly..... I don't know! That could've been an oversight or it could've been deliberate and I just don't remember my justification. That happens sometimes XD)

Anyway uhhh yeah! I think that's it. I like making comics. I like thinking about nosk. Tadaa~

#hollow knight #nosk #quirrel #comic breakdown #flameshadowart #long post #id in alt #this took longer than intended lol but it's done now~#i like doing analyses like this both to show where i do cool things and consider where things could be improved

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hootbon · 2 months ago

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How do you come up with ideas for horror elements in your Freakshow AU?

I'm trying to make a horror au and also I want to make a completely original story too with horror elements and I wanted to know how you come up with ideas since you're one of the best horror creators I've seen

Why thank you, thank you, I think it simply depends on the type of horror you’re going for! Mine is much more psychological as well as some visual. The characters aren’t the most pleasant to the eyes but it isn’t horrific all the time. The au is scary because it presents a possibility, an idea that ‘hey this could very well be real’ and in fact a lot of it is based on real things people go through such as Stockholm syndrome. It’s a near inescapable situation with only one outcome and you know exactly what it is. Funny enough that’s why I do it in the au, it puts these traumas into perspective. You get to experience the horrors they feel too.. of course I’m treading lightly here because I try my best to do research. That said do research!! This is a great form of horror but only if you do it right, it scares the ever loving shit out of people psychologically but make sure you know what you’re doing of course.

Thus, the art of dystopia.. funny enough the original show is a dystopia in its own right, you just won’t notice how scary it really is under all the bright colors and lights. Funny enough all I’ve really done is push Caine’s idea to an extreme, a ringmaster who does what he’s programmed to, to entertain the masses with complete disregard to how any of those masses feel.

Though artistically.. look to a lot of analog horror, I use it a lot to base my drawings off of. Uncanny valley is your best friend because it bothers people, you don’t want to look at your favorite cartoon character with disfigured human eyes now do you? You don’t have to outright jumpscare to get the same affect, unnerving people works all the same. Darkness is also your friend, it’s a natural fear everyone has though often it’s always what lurks in it rather than the dark itself… or also go by my rule,

when in doubt, realistic eyes.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #freakshow au #tadc freakshow

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ryuzakemo128 · 2 months ago

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Konig x Enemy Soldier!Reader

He falls in love with her while she’s torturing him. His team rescues him later on, and he forms an obsession with her based on that one interaction. Years later he’s walking home from a bar shitty little bar, and he hears someone from inside what seems to be a closed restaurant. He draws his gun and enters the building.

He goes into the kitchen, and finds her chopping some dudes hand off.

You can decide which way the story turns. I just want some angst/dark content, please and thank you!😔🙏

DANGER!

Pairing: König x Enemy Soldier!Reader

Content Warnings: Torture, Interrogation, blood, forceful submission, manipulation, kidnapping, shoulder dislocation, executions, obsession.

Words: 2353

Masterlist

Note: I hope you like this. I had added a few more details from the premise you have given me originally. I hope you enjoy.

Credit for dividers: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

Summary: “Worry not, little lamb. The time has come for me and my kin to put you in your place.”

Enemy. Opponent. Adversary. Foe.

You are not his Friend. His Ally. His Comrade.

Alas you were neither of those things.

Konig’s memory of the past with you was jumbled up. He doesn’t know what parts were real and what were either conjured, fabricated, or purely invented by your words alone.

His brain had been scanned, examined, X-rayed, and scrutinised. Yet they don’t understand where his obsession with you came from.

He still remembers your voice, how it echoed, reverberated and ricochetted. The soft, angelic voice of yours. Haunting his nightmares even after he is rescued years later.

His nightmares repeating parts of his torture regardless of how he slept at night. It didn’t matter if he slept on his side or his back. The nightmares came for his mind, again and again.

Sleeping medication only granted him five hours of sleep at a time. Only ever five hours of sweet, blissful, delightful, tranquil sleep.

“Worry not, little lamb. The time has come for me and my kin to put you in your place.” You uttered into his ear. “You were a little naïve for thinking you could…...waltz right in here without any issue? Hmm?”

“Perhaps you were betting on worming your way right inside here.”

“Unlikely.”

“I mean seriously, have you not seen how large you are? Or did you get an ego boost from someone up top?”

“Either bravely stupid or stupidly brave.”

“No matter. It doesn’t concern me which one it is or isn’t. My job is to figure out what you know up inside that head of yours.” You were keen on it. Bargaining on cracking upon that vault of information inside his skull.

A woman in her twenties handed you his medical file, “Looky here…...it says you’ve got severe social anxiety. And they said there wasn’t anything on here I could find useful. It’s a gold mind, my little lamb.”

König’s eyes to wear you were pacing back and forth, back, and forth, his team would rescue him surely, right? They wouldn’t leave him in the hands of the enemy too long, right? A colonel in the hands of the enemy’s interrogator?

Preposterous. Absurd. Ludicrous. Outlandish. Unreasonable. Laughable

It would be a betrayal of the deepest level. Not that it hasn’t been done before. It’s technically not unheard of. Not unheard of to leave a leader inside the clutches of the enemy. A last desperate resort most of the time. But never done unless they had no other choice.

They wouldn’t do that to him, right? Right? They were coming to get him, right? They will come to his rescue, right?

“Worry not. Little lamb, I’m just going to make a few more preparations, and we should be underway shortly. Until then, you will be in the capable hands of nurses.” Before you headed out to get your tools from your lab. You weren’t going to interrogate the guy and cut into him with dirty tools, are you?

No.

It would be against your moral code of conduct.

Hygiene is a must.

Especially when you interrogate someone as important as him.

Can’t have him dying too quickly, can you? All that information locked up inside his head would be gone.

Can’t have it.

Can’t risk it.

Won’t risk it.

König sat there in the dark, cold, dimly lit concrete box of a room. As the nurses fussed around him, setting the surgical lights ready, the pristine cotton white sheets around him, the gurney he would be soon strapped onto sometime later.

The nurses weren’t harsh on the eyes, either. Meaning, you knew, exactly how to cause a man with severe social anxiety to stutter, fall on his own words and flush up like he was under the midday sun.

They took the helmet off. The dark black veil came off afterwards. The smell of disinfectant, rubbing alcohol, the layers of soft white cloth wrapped over his front to keep the dirt and the dried blood from making a mess everywhere else.

Clearly you took your torture seriously. Seriously, enough to make sure he’s alive and aware of the entire process. Making him aware of the kind of terror you were about to unleash onto his skin.

“She would rather not have you look like you crawled from under the ground.” One of the nurses muttered. As if she were scolding HIM for letting HIMSELF get captured. No. He didn’t let himself get captured. He was sold out. Sold out by someone who knew would be there.

A detail remain consistent with the nurses, they look similar to you, acted like you and the same aura as you.

As if even as, you, the person, the real one, the original, wasn’t there in person. You weren’t completely gone from the room. Your influence remained whenever you were physically present or not. What wasn’t to love?

Your influence, physically present or not.

The nurses looking and acting like you.

The whole nine yards to keep him on his toes.

Despite the fact, you were trying to cause him serious amounts of discomfort. Using his severe social anxiety extensively.

Why? In order to prove to your superiors that anything can be tailored to an individual to both torture and interrogate.

Washing the dirt, the layers of black painted onto the eye region. Washed, disinfected, massaged, and made clear enough for your eyes. To etch in the fear clear enough for you to see. Smug, aren’t you? A right smug bitch aren’t you Maus?

All this work for him? You shouldn’t have.

You really shouldn’t. Furthermore, you should have done all that for him.

No one had gone out their way to do those things for him before.

But you’re the enemy, right? It would be wrong to have you as his.

Though given the chance of it ever reserving, would he give you the same treatment as you just did? He can’t say that he would or ever could.

Then again, he would have to contend with having you get rescued, as he would be sometime soon.

He couldn’t have that.

He wouldn’t have that.

Once you walked back into the concrete slathered room, “Aren’t you just a soft lamb. I will get the information from you, regardless of its integrity. Either way, information is just that. Information and information of any kind is worth more than gold from the right kind of person. Don’t you agree? Of course, you do.”

You rolled out your tools upon the surgical tray, the top practically drowning in the dark course material. Each pocket, holding a syringe. “I have a lovely little concoction, the Americans loved to call a ‘truth serum.’ A concoction of a range of psychoactive drugs. Used by Russian Federation and the USSR, United States, and India. Why am I telling you this? Well, can’t have your mind wandering to things that clearly won’t matter.”

God, woman, you talk more than a chipmunk hyped on caffeine. Knowing more about this than I would have expected.

“Hey, hey, hey,” you tapped him on the side of his face to regain his attention on you, as if it ever left it. Your soft fingers on his cheek, sending a small shock of electricity down his spine. I want you to do that again. But I know you won’t.

“Quit zoning out into Lala land and focus on what I’m talking about.” You don’t have to tell me twice. I’ll listen to you no matter how much you touch me.

“Now back onto more important matters, these psychoactive drugs come in the form of at least ethanol, scopolamine, 3-quinuclidinyl benzilate, midazolam, flunitrazepam, sodium thiopental, and amobarbital, among others. Though thoroughly tested, ethical and legal issues were raised. Serious issues, mind you.”

You paused for a few minutes, tightening the foot strap to prevent him from wriggling out from the chair and escaping. Another form of physical contact between the two of you, the cold black, course medical gloves against his skin. Despite them being covered, he just knew how soft your hands must be underneath those gloves.

“Luckily for the both of us today, we’re sticking with Sodium thiopental, also known as Sodium Pentothal.”

Snip. Snip. Snip. There goes half the sleeve of his long-sleeved undershirt. The syringe dug deep into his flesh, into his skin, biting him like a snake injecting its venom into its unsuspecting prey. But he’s suspecting, you told him it was going to happen regardless of how he felt about it.

Not a complete lie, isn’t it?

The cotton ball dabbed onto his inner elbow. The cold liquid combined with your warm hand made for suffocatingly strong mix of desire, uncontested need for more and if he could will it. He would get more of your touch.

Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab. Dab.

The syringe placed on his inner forearm, the gentle touches to ensure he received the right dosage amount. Couldn’t have him dying on you before you go the information you wanted from him, could you?

“Now, don’t move a muscle, or I’ll accidentally give you more than I intend to. Which will end up with you overdosing and dying in that chair.” You warned him. A stern glare in your eyes told him you weren’t kidding on the dying part.

The squeak of the wheels on the chair, clearly you haven’t maintained it on purpose, clearly you intend on leaving that way on purpose.

“Let's start with,” you paused, forcing him to maintain eye contact with you. A sly grin spreads across your face.

“Isn’t that better? Isn’t this much better?”

Your hand gripped his chin, forcing his face up to look at you. Tight enough to remind you what you were capable of doing. Loose enough to allow him to breathe.

You’re lucky I am bound within this chair.

If I wasn’t.

I don’t know what I wouldn’t do to you.

I do know what I would be doing to you.

What I would be willing to do to you.

Don’t think for a second, once I am freed, I wouldn’t find you again and again.

To inflict the same level of pain you have done to me.

Delicious levels of pain.

Misery.

All of it will be mine.

Mine and mine alone.

The layers of interrogation kept going from there, from the truth serum, you received little information. But it certainly wasn’t enough. It would never be enough for your senses. You wanted more. You were keen on getting information, no matter how blood it had to get. No matter how forceful you had to be.

Whatever it happened to be the first time. Whatever it could have been. Whatever it will be in the future.

Once König had been recused. Once he had escaped your clutches.

He couldn’t help but stare as they drove away.

The further away he went, the angrier you became. The sweet tasting anger. Only for him.

He really, really, should have known better than to enter the bar. The foolish man ignored his instinct to run. The closed blinds, the locked windows, the only light turned on was the bar’s kitchen in the back.

The bar was a hole-in-the-wall bar only few people recognised, and even fewer people would have appreciated. It had been years since he last encountered you. The depth, the intensity and power radiating from you since then. It had only increased his want for you.

Decapitation of several soldiers leading to the room in the back. Blood seeping into the wood flooring, many of his men were put to death and the screams were getting louder telling him run. To flee.

“What do you know?!” You demanded from the man who would only speak in German.

“I didn’t ask for a prayer. I asked for an answer.”

The amputation of the man’s hand, it was the last act sealed, signed and delivered how much he wanted to keep you for himself. The Damascus machete in your hand, your grasp cutting into the wrist of the man’s arm.

The emotions were brought to the inevitable forefront. Upon seeing your face again. Looking deep into your eyes again.

Snapped something inside of him. Marching into the kitchens. Slamming you against the wall, his grip on your throat tight and his grip on your machete tearing it away from you.

“There is nothing I am not willing to do to you.” He whispered, his hot, warm breath against your neck. It took all your might to resist him.

Konig couldn’t risk you getting away, thus the only way he knew would make you stay with him long enough?

To injure you severely enough to keep you around him. Punishment for touching him so attentively, conscientiously, responsively, and assiduously.

To wound you enough to keep you for himself.

And to turn around to heal you in a twisted act of love and affection.

A most twisted, perverse, dogged, Contrary kind of love.

A darling all for himself.

Determined to force you to feel all of his adoration.

His devotion and tenderness.

With a crack, snap, and pop. Your shoulder dislocated from the combined force of him pinning you against the wooden floor and the force of his hand.

Throwing you over his shoulder like you were a princess from a foreign castle and he was a prince of Austria.

His mother said he loved him.

She always knew what to say.

Dragging you into the van didn’t take much effort. You were too focused on the pain from your dislocated shoulder.

Groaning, moaning in pain.

Your thighs in his grasp like he imagined they would be. Plush, plentiful, sumptuous, abundant.

Wrapped in layers of black clothing he had every intention of ripping off your body once he got the chance to.

The characterless, unremarkable, nondescript black van parked on the side of the road. His team waiting for you to be shoved inside like a fragile porcelain doll.

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quibbs126 · 4 months ago

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[NEW Cursed Rarepair is here]

Can you make the fankid of..

Dark Cacao x Moonlight?

I finally got off my ass and drew him, so finally, this is Midnight Choco Cookie

I say all that because I have had his backstory figured out for probably over a year at this point, I just never got around to drawing his design

Okay, so basically the story of Midnight Choco’s origin is that Dark Cacao Cookie had wished for a child (MC is supposed to be older than Dark Choco, so Cacao doesn’t have a kid yet at this point). Moonlight heard his wish, and felt moved by his sincerity, so she decided to grant that wish and then created and sent Midnight Choco down to him from the stars

Moonlight and Dark Cacao aren’t together in this universe, it’s just that due to making Midnight with her magic, he’s also got some of her dough in there too. She’s basically more like a magic donor

Midnight Choco here is a warrior in the World of Dreams, and he spends his days battling nightmares, whether they come to harm train passengers or the individual Cookies having those dreams. And in the latter case, he usually tries to talk with and help those Cookies overcome those fears. He’s basically like Princess Luna in Friendship is Magic

He’s got some sort of helmet and also moniker for his nightmare fighting talents, but I haven’t really figured out what those are yet, so just know he has them. He’s incredibly powerful and a skilled fighter, but he’s also a very kind and sweet soul, just wanting to help those with the power he wields

However, not all is well with Midnight Choco. As far as he’s aware, he’s merely a construction of the Dream World to protect itself, like many others that inhabit and maintain it. He never leaves the Dream World. Not only that, but he has no real memory of having any sort of family. He feels some form of connection with the Slumbering Moon, but has never quite traveled to meet her

The truth of Midnight Choco is that he has in fact, been in a coma for the past 25-30 years of his life, slumbering within the walls of the Black Citadel

He grew up with his father, being raised in the Black Citadel and learning the ways of the sword from him. His extraordinary origins and seeming connection with the stars also led to him having quite an amount of stories surrounding him, being “the prince born from the stars, gifted to the king from the heavens itself”, among other things

When he was a teenager, Dark Choco was baked, and he got along pretty well with his little brother, for what time they had together

But then a couple years later, one night, Midnight Choco went to sleep, but never woke up. That following day it was assumed he had simply overslept, but as the day, and inevitably following days went on, it became increasingly concerning. He was still alive, and seemingly fine, but he wouldn’t wake up. Dark Cacao tried methods both physical and magical, but nothing could be done. The circumstances were made even more confusing by the fact that no one knew what caused it, because there was no trace of any poison or curses in his body, or anything strange that had happened recently, Midnight simply went to sleep and didn’t wake up

He has stayed this way ever since, and Dark Cacao has him kept in a room under constant watch, should someone attack him or if he potentially wakes up. He visits him often

What actually happened to Midnight Choco is that he accidentally awakened his power to go into the World of Dreams, and in the process of doing so, since he had done it incorrectly, gave himself amnesia, basically starting his life over in the Dream World and becoming the fighter of nightmares he is today, and subsequently believing he comes from the World of Dreams

He can in fact, break this spell and wake back up in the real world, but he doesn’t know he has this ability, nor does he believe he comes from the real world, so he wouldn’t go looking for a way to access this power. Though perhaps one day, he’ll learn the truth and wake up

He’s met both his father and his brother within their dreams and nightmares, but neither parties really recognize each other, due to dream weirdness and Midnight’s knight attire covering his face. He is semi aware of what’s been going on in the Dark Cacao Kingdom, like Dark Choco’s banishment, Caramel Arrow, Affogato and the like, but it’s basically been pieced together from the secondhand dream accounts, and due to his amnesia he doesn’t feel much personal connection to these events for himself, he just knows some of what’s going on in the real world

And I think that’s about it on Midnight Choco’s character. Wow I really did have a lot to say. Well, on to design things

So I got the name Midnight Choco from an ice cream flavor that I think I’ve seen around. It’s mostly because it’s chocolate and has night connections, but it works

Midnight chocolate ice cream:

So I admit, he doesn’t look as great as I have been hoping he would, but he has a design now, so I should just be happy with that

I admit, I didn’t really know what I was doing with his armor, I was just kind of trying to make it look good. The feet may not be great though. ToA Dark Choco ended up being a good reference for me

I originally wasn’t going to have gold, but all the saturated dark blues were getting too much, so it breaks up the colors

His sword is supposed to be like a clock hand. I originally drew it for Dusk Choco, but I thought it might look cooler on Midnight, since he’s the one descended from a Legendary and all. But it was a matter of copy/paste, so I don’t know how good it looks on him. But drawing a weapon was the main reason I put off drawing him, so it’s fine I suppose

I really wanted to add some gold gradient to the pants, but it just never looked right, so they have to stay just plain. Though I did change them and subsequently his hair to be a dark purple, so it looks a bit better

I honestly don’t really know what to say in this section. He may not be my best, but he at least has a design, and it isn’t the worst thing ever, so it’s fine

And yeah, that’s Midnight Choco. I think I’m too attached to him honestly, I want fanfiction of him. But yeah, I hope you enjoy him yourselves

#I have concocted scenarios in my head where he wakes up #including angst where due to his dream powers he knows more than he should being comatose for decades #leading people to assume he’s lying about who he is when he isn’t and only just remembered he has a family #but yeah #I like him #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #dark cacao cookie #moonlight cookie #cookie run oc #midnight choco cookie #my OCs #my art #requests #answers

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celestinawarlock · 6 months ago

Text

you’ll be

the saddest part of me

the part

of me that

will

never

be mine

Sebastian & Celestina | Year 7

The rocky events of 5th year were not a great foundation for Sebastian and Celestina.

She followed and helped him because he was her very first friend, she admired his determination to cure Anne, his pursuit of knowledge, and yes, he made her feel butterflies—like he needed her.

And for a girl that spent 15 years of her life without friends or crushes, Celestina was smitten, even when her gut told her he was going down too dark of a path.

When she finally did listen to her gut—she also listened to Ominis and Anne. And together they made the decision to report Sebastian, ultimately sending him to Azkaban.

Sebastian would come to fester resentment and malice towards Celestina once she makes it to sixth year—and they do not speak.

By the time she is in their 7th year, something changes in Sebastian—and he comes to realize that he’s buried feelings for Celestina the whole time. But when he tries to confess and reconnect with her, she had already moved on.

. . .

That’s the gist of it anyway. Lots more nuanced and complicated events happen in between—but nothing is ever simple when it came to Sebastian. Sorry, my boy.

They were each other’s wrong time, wrong person.

Timelapse & more art inspo below✨👇🏼

Many of you may notice that this drawing is based on Gustav Klimt’s “The Kiss.”

While I’ve long been familiar with the painting and its fame, what had always eluded me was how people saw it as a romantic painting.

I know there is already a lot of discussion around it, but the way it’s always come across to me was that the man was trying to show affection for the woman, but the woman has turned her face away—not because she was offering his cheek, but because she’s disconnected from the man. She does not feel the same affection for him as he does for her.

And while we do not see the face of the man, to me his face would be sorrowful. He knows she does not feel the same but tries to dominate over her to project his feelings.

Two more things: 1) the woman in the original is kneeling—to me signifies that she’s always had the ability to tower over the man but simply doesn’t, she keeps her restraint and 2) they are standing close to an edge, a cliff. Perhaps a symbol that their relationship was never going to go anywhere.

For all those things, I felt this was a perfect inspiration for Sebastian & Celestina. And for their background I wanted there to be a mix of blues and golds. One of them wants to gild over their past with gold and shine, but the reality is that the atmosphere between them has become glum and desaturated.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy mc #celestina warlock #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy fanfic #warlock lore #sebastian sallow x mc #the entire story is in my head and this is just how I can slowly drop feed it into existence okay

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it-happened-one-fic · 5 months ago

Text

Come My Way - Silver

Author Notes: So, this was certainly a thing. I started writing this after the Diasomnia chapter while listening to AmaLee's cover of "Come this Way" from the Inuyasha anime and it kind of spiraled from there. I decided I'd play with the entire red string of fate thing despite it being rather heavy-handed in terms of romance since Prefect and Silver have some interesting ties within the storyline which I have considered writing an analysis of for my analysis blog. (plus I do find the red string of fate to be quite romantic at times and it was a nice tie in for all the other Inuyasha stuff) I came back and edited this fic to the original version of the song "Come" that is seventh ending theme of Inuyasha. All in all, the fic ended up long, but I still found it intriguing enough to post since I didn't have a fic in particular planned for this week. As per usual, reader is gender neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender neutral reader /sfw /fluff /some drama /romance /spoilers for Diasomnia chapter

Word count: 2584

Fated love was something that seemed to only occur in fairytales. An amusing thought for someone from the country of the fae to have. But to Silver, the idea of meeting someone he was fated to be with despite the many obstacles life could hold was beautiful, but also rather improbable.

Especially when he considered his narcolepsy.

It was almost like a fond dream, perfect and wonderful, until he awoke and the dream was shattered.

And yet, when he first saw you, Silver felt a glimmer of something akin to recognition.

But he knew, for a fact, that he had never met you. There was no way he could have since you were from an entirely other world that was supposedly devoid of magic.

So Silver had initially shrugged that strange sensation of familiarity off. Deciding that you probably just had one of those faces that looked incredibly similar to someone else’s.

But he’d still wanted to get to know you. Out of curiosity, if nothing else.

The mere idea of even meeting you soon seemed to be perfectly impossible, though. Because it was like the world itself was endeavoring to keep the two of you apart.

And maybe it was. You weren’t from this world, and, if Silver thought logically about it, perhaps it was best if he didn’t talk to you.

Maybe he didn’t need to let whatever this pull was that seemed to draw him inevitably towards you have its way. After all, if he were already so intrigued by you without talking to you, then he didn’t see how it could get any better once he did get to know you.

And then, if you did as you no doubt wished and went home, he would be left alone.

Alone and empty, he feared, if the sensation that he was close to meeting someone beyond important to him that swelled within him every time he saw you was anything to go by.

Initially, he’d kept his thoughts to himself. Better that way, since he didn’t want to bother anyone else with the strange, foreign feelings. But when he started seeing you in his dreams, always distant but ever present and seemingly unreachable. That was when it had gone on long enough.

Lilia had smiled at him amusedly when he’d explained the strange sensation that he knew you despite having never met you and the urges he felt to speak to you. To get to know you.

It was as if the ancient fae had already known, and he even nodded like he was completely unsurprised as he’d spoken. His tone oddly pleased, “I had wondered if this would happen. They do remind me of you, after all.”

Silver had felt his eyes widen at his father’s words before he shook his head in confusion, “How are they like me?”

Lilia had laughed aloud at his son’s words, rubbing Silver’s head like he was still a small child as his eyes gleamed with amused fondness, “Why, you’re both diligent, reserved, good children. Humans who don’t judge others by their race and who are capable of forgiving even the greatest of evils. You both serve as a sort of light within the darkness to the hearts of those you touch.”

Silver had felt himself smile, shaking his head at his father’s words but knowing better than to deny what he’d said. Lilia had always doted on his son, and even if Silver didn’t agree with the image he painted, Lilia wouldn’t accept his refusal.

Lilia had sat down next to Silver on the bed, his eyes narrowing with amusement, “Let me tell you a story from another land far, far away.”

Silver had focused on his father’s words, frowning slightly in determination to remain focused without falling asleep.

“In the same land that holds the great Loong dragons, there is a story of a red string.” Lilia had spoken in a soft voice, the one that always lulled Silver to sleep but also held the greatest of secrets.

“No one knows what spinning wheel weaves this string; perhaps it is the wheel of life itself. But legend has it that this thin strand of red ties you to your fated one.”

Silver had nodded, not surprised by the contents of the legend. It was much like other stories that revolved around fate, but he tilted his head nonetheless, “A single string seems an odd choice for a tie that binds.”

Lilia had nodded, giggling slightly before he continued, “It is, isn’t it? But that fragility hides incredible strength. Just like how love can seem fragile, but can weather even the greatest of storms, this single thread of red string is strong. No matter the distance, time, or circumstance, it will remain strong.”

He’d blinked, his pink eyes gleaming in the darkness like some sort of omen. A subtle reminder that there was more to Silver’s father than met the eye as he finished, his voice dropping and having caused Silver to still ever-so-slightly, “Perhaps it could even stretch across worlds, should fate will it.”

With only those words, it became beyond clear what Lilia had met when he’d started his tale and how it connected to Silver’s trouble with you. Silver had shook his head slightly, smiling softly, as he’d realized what Lilia was doing. It hadn’t the first time his father had teased him about romance.

“Father, I don’t think a thread of legend is what is causing me to be fascinated by Y/n,” At Silver’s words, Lilia had nodded. Smiling to himself, like he knew a secret that no one else knew anything about.

Lilia’s hands had found Silver’s, and the ancient fae had looked down at his son’s hands, calloused from the use of the sword, as his own rough thumb had slipped over his son’s pinkie finger, the smile on his face spreading, “Perhaps not… Perhaps not.”

The days wore on, and Silver had thought very little of the discussion he’d had with his father, even as you remained an ever-present thought in his mind.

And then he’d finally interacted with you.

It had seemed more like an accident than anything. A small blip in the plans of the world as time itself had seemed to slow around the two of you, and you blinked at him in quiet surprise before you smiled.

It had been a very brief interaction, with you almost bumping into him in a doorway as he’d started to enter a classroom. You’d backtracked quickly, laughing slightly as you apologized and moved out of his way even as he’d assured that there was no problem and that he should have been paying better attention to where he was going.

And after that, Silver had found himself bumping into you more and more. Spending time with you between classes. Waking up to find you sitting next to him, like you were protecting him. Before long, he was even walking you back to your dorm.

“Silver, it seems you’ve befriended the Child of Man. You’ve been spending quite a bit of time with them,” Malleus’s smile had been beyond smug as he greeted Silver one day when Silver had only just gotten back from walking you to Ramshackle dorm.

Silver had blinked at the prince’s words, half-startled, before he nodded, “Yes, Y/n and I have been helping each other with classes.”

It was strange, in many ways, to use an evasive remark when Silver had known he hadn’t been doing anything wrong, but something about the way Lilia had smiled at him from around Malleus. His large eyes, narrowing with amusement as he looked at his son, that had Silver faltering.

“They are quite charming, aren’t they? It seems they have won over most of the school by now,” Malleus’s fingers had brushed across his lips as if he were trying to hide the amused grin that stretched across his face.

But his words were true. Silver seemed to have been the last one to reach where you were, and now that he’d been standing next to you, he’d noticed something.

You worried about and for those around you. A little bit too much, in fact.

Silver suspected that was why you’d wound up in so many situations, to the point where you were something of a celebrity within the school. One that was either hated or loved depending on who you spoke to.

But you went out of your way to help those around you and did your best to keep up with your peers, even though there was no way you could truly succeed in the magic-related classes.

It was like you were running from something and using everything to distract yourself from whatever that thing was.

And perhaps that was why Silver hadn’t been surprised when he’d found you asleep on your couch, where you’d passed out before he’d shown up to study with you.

The fact you had been asleep wasn’t odd; you’d been falling asleep during the day more and had mentioned not sleeping well at night before. What had been concerning, though, were the marks of dried tears on your face that had caused Silver to frown as he’d knelt down beside you.

Because that was what he had been worried about even then. That you weren’t letting yourself rely on others and were instead pushing yourself to support everyone else and avoiding your own problems.

For someone who’d been magically transported to a world that wasn’t your own, you seldom mentioned your home and took a surprising amount in stride.

He’d remembered how you’d looked when Leona had overblotted. Grimly determined and afraid. But Silver had suspected that fear had been less in regard to your own potential injury and more for Leona himself.

He hadn’t said anything, though. Silver knew when someone didn’t want to talk about something. But he also knew that if you ever needed him, he would be here. Right by your side and waiting.

You hadn’t come to him with your troubles, though. Instead, you’d bore them in silence all the way up until shortly before Silver’s entire world changed.

That day, you’d been different.

“Y/n, what is it?” You jolted from your fidgeting motions, as if Silver’s soft voice had startled you, and you’d looked at him with wide, almost fearful eyes that had caused him to frown.

You’d relaxed, though, something that he’d wondered about even then. Was it a natural reaction or forced?

“I… I just feel like something’s going to happen,” Silver had tilted his head at your words, so unlike how usually laid-back you were.

“How so?” You’d met his gaze as he spoke and kept his voice soft and carefully controlled as he’d leaned forward and towards you.

“Do you believe that dreams can sometimes predict things?” Silver had felt his eyebrows raise at your words, and at first he’d honestly thought you were teasing him. But a single glance at your expression, worry-filled as it was, had told him everything.

“Fa- Lilia has spoken of prophetic dreams and people who can see things before; why?” You’d nodded at his words, looking away as if you were deep in thought.

And after a brief moment, you’d looked back toward him. A forced smile sweeping across your face that was nowhere near as natural as the one you usually wore.

Your hand had found his, surprising him slightly as a tingle had seemed to shoot through him at your mere touch as you’d spoken, your smile softening as you’d seemed to reassure yourself, “I just hope everything stays like this.”

Your words had lingered in his mind, playing on repeat like an omen, until the day had come when Lilia told him he was leaving.

That was when everything had shattered, and suddenly, somewhere in the back of his mind, Silver had wondered: Was this what you’d been worried about?

He hadn’t gotten a chance to ask or even see you until after everything had happened.

Lilia’s farewell party had come; Silver had confessed everything about his feelings and frustrations to Malleus, and then Malleus had overblotted.

Silver knew he was lucky, though. Lucky that, in some small way, you’d warned him. And lucky that the very moment he’d fallen asleep, he’d known something was amiss.

It had been subtle, but in the midst of the slightly off, too-perfect world that was his dream, he’d felt it. A gentle tugging at his pinkie finger, like a thread was wrapped around it, was being pulled.

The sensation sent a jolt through him, and Silver turned, his eyes widening as he caught sight of a bird trailing a strange rainbow light. And then he knew what was wrong with everything that surrounded him.

Where were you?

If this were a perfect world, you’d be here. And the fact you were missing was why he’d felt so empty. Because you were nowhere to be seen. Almost like you’d never existed.

Light seemed to flash around him, like stars guiding him forth as he ran forward, chasing that rainbow bird and following that invisible thread that seemed to pull him onwards.

It was a sensation he recognized and was familiar with. He knew who lay at the end of this path, even if he didn’t fully understand what was going on.

Somehow, someway. You were calling him, even if you didn’t know it.

Silver had vowed very few things in his life. To defend Malleus, to care for his father, and to protect those dear to him. And finally there was the silent, unspoken oath that now pushed him forward from behind, as the promise of your presence pulled him onwards. The oath he’d made with himself to stay by your side.

It was a selfish oath that he’d made without entirely realizing it until now.

Instinctively, he closed his eyes as he burst forth through the edges of his dream and into the corridor of dreams that would lead him to you. And he saw something he’d never seen before.

Something he now suspected his father had seen a long time ago, all those days ago when he’d first told him about that legend about fate and threads.

It was a thin red strand, so fragile-looking, but pulled taut as it connected him to something further down the invisible path before him. And he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, where that thread would lead him.

So he ran. Shouting your name even as he burst forth into a new dream. One filled with inky shadows as it crumbled to pieces around you.

“Y/N!!” At his shout, you looked up. Your eyes wide from where you stood in the center of the collapsing dream, clutching Grim to you.

“S-Silver!” You faltered, having to stop yourself from stepping towards him as you slowly ran out of space to stand in as Grim yowled something that came out garbled in his distress as Silver reached out to you.

“Hold on to me! Both of you,” There was no hesitation in your motions as you grabbed onto his hand, and he wrapped an arm around you as he pulled both you and Grim up against him.

The words of his spell held new meaning as he spoke them with you at his side, “To the person I met someday, to the person I will meet one day….” He glanced down at you, now knowing that you were that fated person.

“Meet in a dream.”

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hyun3hk3y · 4 months ago

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Symbolism in "Portrait of Lady Edelgard Von Hresvelg"

This is something that I’ve usually never really felt comfortable doing. If you ever wonder why some artists are a bit more reluctant to actually *talk* about the “meaning” of their work, its because it strikes the same tenor as having to explain why a joke is funny. If I have to actually lay it out for the viewer why certain decisions were made in the execution of a work of art, the magic of the whole experience may be lost. Moreover, many artists avoid making definitive statements on their work because they do not wish to deprive viewers the opportunity to derive their own unique explanation.

While I chiefly view myself as a fine artist, most of my artistic training was as an illustrator. As an artist, this can lead to an interesting dichotomy when it comes to creating paintings. During my studies, I was told that the job of an illustrator is to solve pictorial problems for people often by making pictures that tell a story or convey an idea. Fine art’s definition, in contrast, tends to be more nebulous. But I digress, on to the painting…

A number of people on reddit and Tumblr have remarked on the candle with the snuffed-out flame. No interpretations on it have been offered, the mere presence of a candle with a smoldering wick is a strong enough implication. However, this is one instance where I drew inspiration from art history so I believe it is worth elaborating on. The animus for the candle originates in the Arnolfini Portrait by Jan Van Eyck. Below is an image of the painting with the pertinent candle circled.

Art history scholars have a number of different readings about the candle’s presence, but the one I was taught in Art History is that the lit candle indicates the presence of the holy ghost or the watchful eye of God. Three Houses draws from a number of religions for its world building, in the case of The Church of Serios, the developers took the majority of their cues from The Catholic Church. If a lit candle would suggest Edelgard’s faith in the Goddess, then an extinguished one must imply Edelgard’s *loss* of faith.

In addition to the extinguished candle, I would also like to direct viewers to the reflection of the candle in the polished wood table surface. In the reflection the candle is still burning very brightly, almost down to the base of the candelabra.

The purpose of this image is to recall a saying from old Taoism Philosophy in China: “The candle that burns twice as bright burns half as long.” Those who are familiar with Edelgard’s back story in Three Houses will find its relevance obvious. I doubt I am the only one to make the allusion.

This brings me to the next major piece of symbolism I employed in the painting, the dagger and the drapery on the table. The dagger’s significance should go without saying, but its application as a device will become more apparent after I explain the table cloth. To put it succinctly, the majority of the dark shadow shapes made by the tablecloth are arranged to evoke the shape of the crest of flames. Below is another visual to help illuminate this detail.

The immediate implication here is the detail of Edelgard possessing the crest of flames. As for why I decided to depict it in a more concealed way…When I first got the idea for this painting, the whole concept was that if a person saw this painting in a gallery, they would be looking at an actual artifact from Fodlan, one that created by an artist who actually lived there. This is why the second row of the inscription reads “In the Imperial Year” on the left side and “1179” on the right. This means the painting would have been completed just before Edelgard starts attending Gareg Mach, and long before the greater public would know she has the crest of flames. How the artist came to know this would remain a mystery. I like to imagine it as a detail that Fodlan’s historians would debate over for years after the game’s narrative.

There is also a second message that I have intended with the dagger’s placement cutting (heh) across the crest…Gripping the dagger over the crest of flames is a statement about what the path is that Edelgard will take, especially when the crest is examined as representing the Goddess Sothis. In fact, there are two (technically three) lines of dialogue from Three Houses I had in mind for this symbolism.

That about sums it up! I may do a couple more posts in the future where I show how the painting evolved from thumbnails, to studies to the finished image if theres interest in that sort of thing.

#oil on panel #oil painting #artists on tumblr #edelgard von hresvelg #fe3h #fe3h fanart #fire emblem #fire emblem fanart #fire emblem three houses #black eagles #crimson flower #portrait painting #figurative painting #realism #fe3h edelgard #fe three houses #fe16 fanart #fe16

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offtorivendell · 1 year ago

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Is an oily residue corrupting Azriel's hypothetical mating bond and making him feel off kilter? Is it related to Valg-type magic?

Disclaimer: this theory is a continuation of a few of my others that I've been too lazy to post until now - first I was going to post it for Elriel Month 2023, then Azriel Week 2023... it never happened - but like everyone else I'm having massive FOMO before HOFAS, so here we finally go, even though I know I've forgotten something lol. As usual, this makes no claims of being accurate, it's just theorising for fun.

A massive thank you goes out to @wingedblooms, @tswaney17, @silverlinedeyes, @psychologynerd, @ladynightcourt3, @cassianfanclub, and anyone else I've forgotten (sorry!) for all of our discussions that finally became this post. Love you guys. 💜

Spoilers: this is a Maasverse post, and draws from the ACOTAR series, CC 1 & 2/HOEAB & HOSAB, and the TOG series. It is CC 3/HOFAS spoiler free, as I'm waiting to read it in its "original English" 🤓 on the 30th of January. Please be respectful of that if engaging in the comments before it's published!

Plenty of people, including @silverlinedeyes, @icedflames and myself, have posted our thoughts on mating bonds in the Maasverse, and this theory builds on those previously established - though again, as yet hypothetical - ideas. Specifically, this post about the use of “oily” throughout the ACOTAR series is recommended reading.

What we do know is that:

Mating bonds contain threads, and so do spells.

Mates are the song/music of the soul, and their laughter is likened to music.

Different fae, and magics, contain different scents, be that personal or regional

First, let's go back to ACOWAR, when Feyre described the Ravens' entrance into the library as being like an off-kilter chord:

I felt it at the same moment she did. The ripple and tremor. Like … like some piece of the world shifted, like some off-kilter chord had been plucked. We turned toward the illuminated path that we’d just taken through the stacks, then to the dark far, far beyond. - ACOWAR, chapter 30

Initially, I had wondered if the King of Hybern had had Jurian use the Harp to infiltrate Velaris, but it was @merymoonbeam (I think) who theorised that the Cauldron might be mimicking the Harp, and maybe not doing the best job of it. Which made me wonder, could it do the same with mate bonds?

He left the rest unspoken. Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much. - ACOSF, Azriel's bonus chapter

Looking at her now … She was pale, yes. The vacancy still glazing her features. But he couldn’t breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen. Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He’d said the same to Jesminda once. But even as shame washed through him, the words, the sense chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours. Mate. - ACOWAR, chapter 24

What if the Elucien bond, as either a spell or piss poor Cauldron-Made approximation of a bond, causes Azriel - and maybe Elain, possibly Lucien - nausea when Lucien is around because it's constantly changing, or reverberating over the top of, what remains of a hypothetical Elriel bond?

What if it's making the Elriel bond off-kilter, out of whack, imbalanced?

Does this make Azriel feel sick, nauseous, or simply overwhelmed/overstimulated?

When people are feeling off-balance, for whatever reason, they can feel sick or nauseous. It's one of the symptoms of vertigo, which can be triggered by severe headaches such as migraines. And guess who rubs their temples? Azriel!

Alternatively, certain chords played loudly enough on a string instrument can really mess with your chest - and where do mating bonds attach - if you're standing close enough for them to vibrate through you (at least, they do for me haha). It can be weirdly disconcerting, and I'd imagine that if Azriel or Elain feels something like this, no wonder he describes such severe discomfort that he needs to leave, and she shrinks away from Lucien, the unintentional cause of her pain.

Same with the smell; if the magic of the Cauldron, in whatever way, is messing with the smell that should be there? Contaminating it? Unbearable.

Is this too crack for you? Well, let's get even crazier.

I have previously suggested that the Cauldron's actions throughout the series could be tracked, in part, by SJM describing a feeling or quality as “oily,” and I've also wondered if the dark maker of the Cauldron - Koschei? - could have hijacked it in some way, as the Book of Breathings being made from leftover iron gave me “One Ring” vibes. I still stand by that, but with a clarification (and here is where the TOG and CC spoilers come in, FYI). I think it's only half of the magic belonging to the Cauldron that is "oily":

Throughout TOG, the Valg are heavily associated with “oiliness,” in terms of their blood and magic. The smell “reeks” and always results in the involved characters experiencing extreme revulsion, including headaches. Sound familiar?

Wyrdstone has an oily, hideous aftertaste.

Even in CC 1/HOEAB, Danika was described as oily when she came into Griffin Antiques.

Celaena looked at the sealed door, her stomach turning. A half-dried pool of blood lay at the base of the door, so dark it looked like oil. She crouched, swiping a finger through the puddle. She sniffed at it, almost gagged at the reek, and then rubbed her finger against the pad of her thumb. It felt as oily as it looked. - COM, chapter 45

“What the hell is that?” Rowan demanded, kneeling beside her, sniffing her outstretched hand. He jerked back, snarling. “That’s not dirt.” No, it wasn’t. It was blacker than night, and reeked just as badly as it had the first time she’d smelled it, in the catacombs beneath the library, an obsidian, oily pool of blood. Slightly different from that other, horrific smell that loitered around this place, but similar. So similar to— “This isn’t possible,” she said, jolting to her feet. “This—this—this—” She paced, if only to keep from shaking. “I’m wrong. I have to be wrong.” There had been so many cells in that forgotten dungeon beneath the library, beneath the king’s Wyrdstone clock tower. The creature she’d encountered there had possessed a human heart. It had been left, she’d suspected, because of some defect. What if … what if the perfected ones had been moved elsewhere? What if they were now … ready? - HOF, chapter 45

The overseer roared, thrashing as her magic swept into him, melded with him. But there was nothing inside to grab on to. No darkness to burn out, no remaining ember to breathe life into. Only— Aelin reeled back, magic vanishing and knees buckling as if struck. Her head gave a throb, and nausea roiled in her gut. She knew that feeling—that taste. Iron. As if the man’s core was made of it. And that oily, hideous aftertaste … Wyrdstone. The demon inside the overseer let out a choked laugh. “What are collars and rings compared to a solid heart? A heart of iron and Wyrdstone, to replace the coward’s heart beating within.” - EOS, chapter 15

* Side note, it's giving Tamlin and his stone heart.

Danika didn’t just look like she’d been rootling through the garbage. She smelled like it, too. Wisps of her silvery blond hair—normally a straight, silken sheet—curled from her tight, long braid, the streaks of amethyst, sapphire, and rose splattered with some dark, oily substance that reeked of metal and ammonia. - CC HOEAB, chapter 1

The Hind held Ruhn’s gaze as the game began. She was the spitting image of Luna, with her upswept chignon, the regal angle of her neck and jaw. As coldly serene as the moon. All she needed was a pack of hunting hounds at her side— And she had them, in her dreadwolves. How had someone so young risen in the ranks so swiftly, gained such notoriety and power? No wonder she left a trail of blood behind her. “Careful now,” the Harpy said with that oily smile. “The Hammer doesn’t share.” The Hind’s lips curved upward. “No, he doesn’t.” - CC HOSAB, chapter 33

I think the dark maker of the Cauldron could have been Valg, whether that's Koschei or someone else I don't know though Koschei currently makes the most sense. I also don't know when the dark maker would have had the chance to influence the Cauldron; was it always made from dark and light, or - as @fawnandshadows theorised a while back - did Koschei bastardise it after the fact? Where the Valg would fit in with the Daglan and the Asteri is also a mystery, though my current train of thought is that they could be family names or allegiances, like different clans of the same parasitical species, thanks to the description of Danika in HOEAB.

But, back to Azriel and his severe reaction to the Elucien bond.

I know I'm not the only one who wonders at the very Valg-ish themes with which Rhys and Azriel's powers have been described - maybe one day I'll post my thoughts about the possible link between lightsingers, shadowsingers, daemati and the Valg (but it is not this day lol) - and how that may have come about. For example, are the Valg interwoven, genetically, with the Avallen people, or is it because the Princes of Hel are also involved, and have similar magics? Are the Princes of Hel a similar species as the Valg, Asteri and Daglan, or completely different? Ugh, let's stop this spiral here.

Oily: the obvious train of thought being that oily things are slippery, which can lead to an imbalance… ie. becoming off-kilter.

Sounds like Azriel could be suffering from some sort of vertigo, of which symptoms can include nausea; severe headaches, such as migraines, may trigger an episode… and who rubs his temples enough that Elain noticed it?

Maybe Azriel can sense the corruption in the bond, either the current Elucien bond, or the hypothetical original bond between Elain and himself; if like calls to like, and his shadows are Valg-ish, maybe it is because his OG bond was fucked with. So, what if:

Azriel's shadows can slip away from spells and binding magic (Slippery > oily > Valg).

The guards at the prison know what he is.

Valg magic making Azriel nauseous and Elain sourcing/making a healer's powder for him? It's giving Chaol and Yrene. Especially since Elain (and Mor) make his shadows brighten.

So, we have in-text mentions of Azriel feeling overwhelmed due to the proximity of the Elucien bond, as well as Elain shrinking from Lucien - an action that parallels Azriel hanging out in the doorway, and even Lucien retreating to the human lands, if he feels any bond-related discomfort around Elain. But what about his initial response to seeing Elain, and thinking she was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen? The quote that sent me down the “oily” rabbit hole to begin with?

Well, Aelin felt oily disgust at the thought of marrying someone who wasn't Rowan:

“There are no allies,” Darrow said. “Unless Her Highness decides to be useful and gain us men and arms through marriage”—a sharp glance at Rowan—“we are alone.” Aelin debated revealing what she knew, the money she’d schemed and killed to attain, but— Something cold and oily clanged through her. Marriage to a foreign king or prince or emperor. Would this be the cost? Not just in blood shed, but in dreams yielded? To be a princess eternal, but never a queen? To fight with not just magic, but the other power in her blood: royalty. She could not look at Rowan, could not face those pine-green eyes without being sick. - EOS, chapter 5

This example from Aelin could describe Azriel and Elain’s potential future if Elain accepted a theoretically Cauldron spelled bond to Lucien, but also for Lucien and Jesminda, if they were originally true or fated mates before she was murdered.

Some final thoughts:

We know from TOG that healing light is known as the Valg executioner. In a parallel to Yrene killing Erawan with her healing light in KOA, Elain killed the King of Hybern - who I suspect was possessed or assisted by a Valg, as Feyre described his magic as a “galaxy” in his palms - with Truth-Teller, which had recently devoured the (her?) sunlight; does this mean that Elain could heal or purify Valg possessed things, with or without the magical, Made dagger? Could this be extrapolated to Azriel's magic, the Dread Trove, or even the Cauldron (possibly with Feyre and Nesta for the bigger ticket items)?

If the Asteri are the same species as the Valg, and the Valg somehow had a hand in making or twisting the Cauldron, it could follow that they used the Cauldron to create offspring bonds for a more powerful food source. If this pans out then Elain, bright light, could hypothetically heal the Cauldron. Maybe that is why Azriel describes her with purity language? Not because SJM wants to display Azriel's apparently toxic thoughts about her (🙄), but because she, along with her sisters, will be his/their salvation? Rhys once said as much to Feyre!

@mrspettyferr has suggested that Azriel's shadows ability to hide him from binding magic - see: the High Lord's meeting in ACOWAR - could have prevented his true bond from snapping with Elain when she came out of the Cauldron. This could be supported by any Valg/shadow link.

Thank you for reading! Please don't mention any CC HOFAS spoilers in the comments or reblogs until after it has been officially published. 💜

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alpaca-clouds · 5 months ago

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Solarpunk Storytelling - And People Who Have Never Read A Book (apparently)

And once more I am back at the topic that maybe annoyes me the most of all when it comes to "white people having bad opinions about solarpunk". (And yes, let's face it, most of the people are white.)

And that is people that argue like this:

"Uhm, actually, how are we supposed to bring in a conflict if it is not about the utopian solarpunk world hiding a dark secret?!"

To which I will always have to assume that these people are not in fact familiar with the concept of books, movies, series, or stories in general, and have not consciously ever consumed a story at all. Because otherwise I cannot fathom how one could come to this conclusion.

Because here is the thing: Most stories out there have a conflict that does not involve a government having a dark secret.

Unbelievable, right?

Escuse my sarcasm in this, but I really just find this argument so silly. I mean, Lord of the Rings most certainly does not draw its conflict out of any government hiding a dark secret. Nor does any of the Sherlock Holmes stories. Titanic is a very popular movie not building around the concept of a dark government secret. And... Ugh, I don't know. Forrest Gump and Fight Club are two very popular movies, that I don't like, but in fact do not work around a dark government secret as a conflict. Nor do my favorite Fantasy books: The Magic Castle trilogy (that includes Howl's Moving Castle) and The Witcher series.

You will find there are a ton of stories out there not focused on a dark government conspiracy. In fact those conspiracies tend to be a feature of only certain subsections of genre fiction: thrillers and dystopian fiction. And obviously especially dystopian thrillers. Which is why it is so common in the original punkpunk genre Cyberpunk: Most Cyberpunk stories are dystopian thrillers.

But Solarpunk is not Cyberpunk. And you can tell a lot of different stories that do not feature those kinds of conspiracies.

What those people do not really seem to grasp is that at the very core fantasy, science fiction, and all the punkpunk genre actually do not quite describe the sort of story you tell, but just the setting. Think about it: High Fantasy does not say anything about what kind of story you can expect. Sure, a lot of High Fantasy is either a war story, or an adventure story, but I have read high fantasy thrillers before, just as I have read one really cool indie mystery story that was high fantasy. Same with Urban Fantasy. Are most Urban Fantasy novels some sort of detective novel often with a strong romantic/erotic subplot? Sure. But I have read Urban Fantasy horror, pure Urban Fantasy romance, and Urban Fantasy adventure stories. (In fact I wrote an Urban Fantasy pirate adventure myself.)

Same with the other punkpunk genres. Yes, most Cyberpunk is in fact some sort of dystopian thriller. Some are more action heavy, others are more mystery heavy. But I have seen Cyberpunk erotica, Cyberpunk adventure, and Cyberpunk drama novels. Sure, they always tend to have dystopian subtext, because Cyberpunk worlds are dystopian - but... It is not the central theme in those stories.

Steampunk is maybe even stronger in this. Because I have seen I think any genre in Steampunk before. Romance, adventure, mystery, action thriller... I have seen it all. And I do not even like Steampunk particularly!

So, I really have to wonder: Why in the world can those people think of telling only one type of story with the Solarpunk-setting? And why is it the kind of story that is literally the polar opposite of Solarpunk as a setting-idea?

Because I can guarantee you: Every single genre is very much still possible even within an utopian Solarpunk setting, where the utopia is not a sort of conspiracy hiding a darker secret.

Mystery? Well, even in an utopian world people will go missing. Even in an utopian world, someone will commit murder. The world being utopian will not just fix humanity from its darkest instincts.

Romance? Duh, people will still fall in love in an utopian world. And people will still be complicated about it.

Adventure? Within a Solarpunk world there will still be people looking for lost treasure. Hell, there will probably still be some asshole private collectors who want it for themselves. Or you can even do it fitting with the theme: Instead of a lost treasure people are having an adventure looking for a supposedly extinct species!

Action? You do not need a government conspiracy for someone to come up with guns and do bad things with it, forcing good guys with guns to stop them and have cool fights while doing so!

Thriller? Again, it does not need to be a government conspiracy for that to happen. (Heck, I might write a different blog about that tomorrow.)

Horror? You can have both serial killers/slashers in a Solarpunk world, abusive people for psychological horror, and ghosts/demons if you wanna go supernatural. Literally neither of those care much about the setting they are in.

So, yeah. Really. If you think you cannot write an interesting story within a Solarpunk novel that does not involve the government hiding something and the world being build on a lie, that is very much a skill issue. Or to put it different: Maybe writing is not for you.

#solarpunk #lunarpunk #cyberpunk #steampunk #fantasy #science fiction #writing #story telling #novel writing #short stories #conflict in stories #writing advice #skill issue

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theokusgallery · 18 days ago

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Hiiii I saw you say you have Notes on your Remus and Janus designs 👀👀?

Could we see/hear some tidbits?

FOR SURE !! Here's what the original doodles for their designs look like, first off, (I know you didn't ask for Virgil but I did these three at the same time)

When I drew this I had just finished an exam and had to wait another hour until I could leave the classroom, so I wrote down enough notes that I had to flip the page instead:

Virgil:

- Virgil has light brown hair that he dyes black (badly). It is essential that the dye job look like shit. It looks artificial, his roots are showing, there's patches where the color didn't take, etc etc.

- He also has blue eyes, which I decided on mostly because it makes it even more clear that his hair isn't naturally black.

- He wears earrings, but his ears aren't actually pierced — they're fake little little clip-on things.

- He wears black nail polish at all times, but it's always chipped because he gets the cheapest stuff he can get his hands on.

- His hair (especially his bangs) get very long at times because he gets too socially anxious to go to the hairdresser. Back in middle school, he used to have Janus cut them for him (Remus could have done a better job but trusting him with scissors would have been a mistake). Now he mostly cuts it off by himself — it looks about as good as his dye job.

- Virgil's purple hoodie is a leftover from Remus' fashion design endeavors that Remus thought didn't look weird enough.

Janus:

- He has naturally strawberry blonde hair. The length is very important to him — he started growing it towards the end of middle school. (He allows Remus to experiment with hairdos sometimes as long as he doesn't cut anything off. I need to draw that sometime)

- I'm not entirely settled on his eye color. I know at least one of his eyes is a very pretty brown, but I have half a mind to give him a yellow glass eye for his left side — I'm not sure it'd make any logistic sense for his situation, though

- He got his ears actually pierced when he was 16.

- He also may or may not have a forked tongue. Not sure how I'd ever be able to show that off — but if he does have one, then Remus definitely was the one to encourage him to do it.

- His fashion style was definitely influenced by being around Remus (who may have used him as a mannequin/dummy because he's small.) so much. Remus also attempted to make clothes for him, but Janus is very fancy and picky, so he doesn't wear those clothes very often (though he might accessorize with stuff Remus made for him occasionally).

Remus:

- He has naturally very dark hair. He uses temporary/surface level dyes a lot, but if he's using permanent or semi-permanent dyes, he's usually limiting himself to the grey streak — it's kind of a sample strand, since it's already bleached. He 100% copied his hairstyle from Roman's.

- He (and Roman, of course) has greenish blue eyes.

- Janus paid for him to get his ears (and eyebrows) professionally pierced because otherwise he was just going to do it himself with a sewing needle.

- He has a lot of very shitty stick-and-poke tattoos he made/makes on himself. They're almost always hidden by his outfits.

- Speaking of which, Remus makes most of his outfits costumes himself. The quality of the work may vary, but they are always way too over-the-top for casual wear, because he stands out anyway, so... in for a penny, right. (As I said in the tags of a post: he is very creative and has no shame or social anxiety at all, so he had his whole aesthetic ("overdramatic green") figured out by the time he was 13)

- He also has SH scars, but, again — they're hidden by his outfits 99% of the time. He's a slut who never shows an inch of skin

#their design go in order of intensity Virgil → Janus → Remus #virgil likes to express himself but is too chicken to do anything too extreme so he's limited to softcore emo #janus is definitely fancier than most but he wears stuff i still definitely see every day at my uni #(i see people wearing corsets regularly at my uni idk what other people's experiences are. English litt major in a non-English country...)#(for those who don't know that's a gay as fuck major)#and then Remus looks like he's in the middle of a stage production every single day. with makeup to match #OH this is somewhat of a college AU ! Roman is also there and Remus' class does costumes for Roman's occasionally #Roman does theater and Remus does visual arts (design major/fashion minor bc there was no fashion major)#Janus and Patton are philosophy majors and of course Virgil is a psychology major #and then we have Logan in biochemical ingeneering for obvious reasons.#i have so much lore sorry for rambling .#anyway they keep a lot of their original designs because it just fits them #BUT i needed to include virgil having a shitty hairdo/dye and etc because he is. SUCH a try-hard in my mind.#emo sure. but he looks wannabe emo. it's Essential. he's fake ! he wants to fit in! with the gay kids sure but he still wants to fit in!#it's very clear that his hair is dyed because it's very clear that he is a wannabe. it is so important to me.#also the tidbit about him not being able to go to the hairdresser. is ALSO SO IMPORTANT. he pretends the shitty hairstyle is intentional.#even his signature hoddie is someone else's leftovers. He Borrows. From A Lot Of Places. but he doesnt have a real identity of his own yet.#you wouldnt guess while reading these tags but im actually way more passionate avout Janus and Remus than i am about virgil #it's just that i project onto virgil so so so much .#anyway SORRY FOR THE RAMBLE AGAIN. I KEEP DOING THAT #ask #idrawgaystffs #sanders sides #lbau #drawing #traditional #rant #do i character tag this. i dont feel like feel like character tagging this #OH AND thank you so much for asking !!! as you can tell i really like talking . about them

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