#sable fever

[shisasan]

[ninibeingdelulu]

"I missed you"

plot- he finally come back home CLICK ME

The empty house had felt suffocatingly hollow these past six months with Simon's absence.

Each day stretching into an agonizing purgatory devoid of his steadfast presence, his rich baritone rumble, the casual brushes of his sturdy frame against yours in passing...

But today, the emptiness at last lifted like a shroud of dread finally unraveling.

Today, Simon was finally coming home.

You busied yourself feverishly preparing his favorite dinner, fussing over every detail down to the pristine place setting - desperate to rekindle an atmosphere of long-coveted warmth and domesticity upon his return from the battlefield.

Nervous energy thrummed beneath your ribcage as you strained for the slightest herald of his arrival.

Then, the moment you'd been breathlessly awaiting finally graced reality - the unmistakable creak of the front door swinging wide accompanied by the measured cadence of those combat boots you'd know anywhere.

Whirling with a breathless gasp of pure elation, your gaze instantly drank in the familiar silhouette of your husband etched in the wavering daylight spilling through the entry.

Even beneath that ever-present ghastly skull mask, you'd recognize those powerfully squared shoulders and that signature languid prowl in an instant.

"Simon..."

His name slipped forth in a tremulous whisper misting with the first prickles of joyous tears blurring the edges of your vision.

In the next breath, you found yourself hurtling across the scant distance separating you - instinctively propelled into his outstretched embrace blissfully caging you once more in those unyielding arms corded with wiry muscle and sinew.

Your own slipped around his neck as you buried your face against the fever-warmth of his skin finally within reach again, gulping in heady lungfuls of his richly musky scent you'd been so painfully deprived of.

You barely registered his dexterous fingers working to hastily peel away the obstructing balaclava, desperate to reunite his lips with yours at last.

Only once that cloying barrier fell away did the first crystalline tears at last streak your flushed cheeks - overwhelmed by the sight of his beloved visage after so many months isolated behind the stark veils of that skull facade.

"Oh God, I missed you so damn much..." he rasped in that honeyed timbre reverberating straight down to your very marrow.

The reverent brush of his calloused palms cradling your face with the utmost gentleness somehow contrasted with the intensely smoldering ardor blazing in those grounding sienna spheres searching yours.

Unable to bear resisting a moment longer, you surged upwards and seized his mouth again in a searing, desperate kiss as if to physically reclaim the vital essence of his very being into your own.

Simon groaned into the searing exchange with unapologetic need - his powerful frame arching possessively into the swell of your curves as if intent on liquifying your very bones against his own.

"Never again..."

He growled the fervent oath between fevered brushes of your commingling lips.

"Not a single day goes by where I don't count down to the moment I can come home to you again. To see that smile...to breathe you in and feel that heartbeat against mine...it's the only thing that grounds my sanity on those desolate battlegrounds."

Chest heaving with emotion, you could only nod and clutch him nearer - your own fingers burrowing wantonly through those silken sable tresses with ravenous wonderment you still held the miraculous privilege to caress them once again after so many eternities torn apart.

Simon exhaled a shuddering breath, momentarily staggered by the unsurmountable tidal wave of affection and sheer relief to be encapsulated within your sanctuary once more.

Here, wrapped in your fearless devotion and profound reverence, his battered warrior's soul at last found the absolution - the inimitable tranquility - nowhere else could grant.

The scorched battlefields and merciless atrocities of the forsaken lands he traversed so frequently faded into insignificance next to the profound grace you embodied.

Merely bearing witness to the incandescence of your empyreal spirit glimmering behind those infinitely fathomless eyes was the only benediction Simon would ever need.

Until that inevitable summons to the clarion once more beckoned, commanding his return to the cursed shadows, Simon vowed to cherish every fleeting moment subsumed in your splendorous embrace - your ardor furnishing him the unbridled fortitude and singular anchor to withstand any depravity fate hurled towards him.

For your unassailable love and pride was the only talisman he truly required to confront the hellish devastations still lying in await.

That alone would be enough to see him safely through each arduous mile until the moment he could finally return to bask anew in your resplendence again...

[funkycloewn]

I've once again come from the dead to post lmaooo

After having avoided the pilot for so long in fear of getting sucked into the world and fandom, I finally watched Lackadaisy! (My fears were right btw as it has a grip on me rn) I love it and subsequently read the comic so I knew everything and wouldn't get spoilered.

Anyway, a little time after I came across the amazing interactive fic called the Under The Devil's Moon made by @libras-interactives

I enjoyed a lot (and can't wait for the next chapter/update) and couldn't help but make ocs due to this fic being a sort of self insert thing

These characters shown are only two out the five I made :]

It's sorta rambly but I hope you enjoy it anyway!! (Especially you, Iibra 🥺)

Name: Margaret Quinn

Nickname: Daisy

Date of Birth: October 26, 1889 (31 Years Old)

Personality:

(Mostly the usual callgirl personality with some stuff added into the mix)

Years of being in the industry, has shaped this feline to be calm, gentle and soft spoken. She knows what her customers want and acts accordingly so. Though, she doesn't particularly show it — that would be bad for her image as a callgirl — she is quick to give a person a label, to categorize them. She doesn't mean to be judgy but this mindset has helped her out countless of times, so she continues on; getting to know that someone is the only way for her to lift off the verdict she holds. With the ones she loves, Margaret is very caring towards. Making sure they're well fed with both food and love is one of her top priorities. (Though, recently that has been a difficult task to maintain) This, unfortunately, can make her pushy and stubborn even when she means well.

Romantic Relationship:

Out of all the characters to choose from I chose our friendly local bartender, Viktor Vasko. At one time I was thinking of either Zib or Sable but after reading about how he would treat Chester, I was sold. I can't for that romance to unfold! :D (rhyming unintended)

Other:

• She was born and lived most of her life in the outskirts of New Orleans

• Her mother succumbed to a yellow fever outbreak, leaving her and a few other kids orphaned.

• This led to her forming a group with said children and the four of them residing in an abandoned shack.

• Margaret knows how to fix things at least temporarily because of this (e.g. pipes and infrastructure).

• (This one is a little violent so warning for that :'D) Both her front paws are missing their claws. This is due to a farmer who got sick of her constantly stealing his chickens.

• The pearl necklace she has, was given to her by Flynn. She doesn’t like anyone to know that and avoids the question when asked who she got it from.

• She likes fidgeting with the pearls. The way they softly clack when moved and the feeling of them soothes her.

• Due to her motherly nature, she will "adopt" (translation: care and look after) anyone under the age of 25 with who she is somewhat close to, especially when they are boys

• She sees Jack and Marius as older sons of hers

• Rocky could (will) be a contender for the spot of a fourth son

• She always carries a box containing a sewing kit, buttons and patches

• This has come in handy plentiful of times for Jack, mostly. On rare occasions Marius is in need of them, though I would think he's picky on what she uses; they have to match.

• Though, she says she doesn't know who Chester's father is, she knows. She just doesn't like to acknowledge it.

Voice Claim: Tiana from Princess and the Frog

Name: Chester Quinn

Date of Birth: January 6, 1917 (3 Years Old)

Personality:

This little troublemaker, has a great fondness for being one with the earth. By that I mean, he loves digging. Chester likes creating craters at playgrounds or parks, all the while letting himself be covered in freshly dug up soil. Almost all of his clothes have a grass stain and Larochka fears that he might have stained his chubby little hands for eternity. Speaking of fashion, he hates wearing shoes. A tantrum is bound to occur if you simply try to make him wear a pair. Even if you somehow achieve the impossible, he will just claw them off and chuck them. However despite all that, he's well meaning and can be gentle at times. He enjoys snuggling with him Mama or Larochka. Chester is very social and when out he's always looking for a way to make people smile.

Other:

• If he likes you, he'll make you a 'special mud pie' (a mud pie sprinkled with hand picked flowers; the more flowers, the more he likes you)

• He's handsy, mostly because he's an affectionate boy but also due to the fact he has poor eye sight.

• While he's chubby right now he grows to look more like his father, even somewhat in the face department.

• Fortunately for everyone and the tom himself, he grows out of his habit to refuse any kind of footwear. Don't tease older Chester about his phase, though, because he will get embarrassed and he will look like he just ate a sour lemon.

Voice Claim: Greg from Over the Garden Wall

Cleaned up and with his eye color when he gains his melanin

Wonder who the dad is lmaoo

Lastly a size comparison (not sure if it's accurate tho lol)

[papastarion]

Papastarion Headcanons Pt. 7

The brainrot doesn’t stop. I am so sorry.

•Over time, Astarion manages to re-attune himself with his elven nature. Primarily, he manages to reverie, most nights. The nightmares may always prey on him, but there are nights of peace, too. Mostly recent memories, even amidst the chaos of the grand adventure their now disjointed band had embarked on as unsuspecting victims, and even less suspecting heroes. The warmth of his beloved’s touch, welcome and genuine. The harmless annoyance when he manages to rile Gale up into one of his infamous rants. Karlach playing fetch with Scratch. Nights by the campfire (though he tries not to think of all the bugs.) Community, with all its wonders and growing pains.

•He finds it easier to slip into reverie properly if he has something to focus on. Some nights that means chewing on a problem to be solved for the sake of the Underdark’s newest settlement. Other nights it’s the sound of Sable’s (Tav/Durge’s) heartbeat. Then, once it’s no longer just the two of them, he takes great comfort in listening to the sound of their unborn child’s heartbeat. As much as doubts and worries mix with excitement and, gods, hope, that sound brings a great deal of peace.

•He doesn’t rely on reverie to help him remember the little details of their children’s lives. He doesn’t want to forget a moment of them, especially since dhampirs don’t inherit their vampiric parent’s immortality. He journals, dating everything. First words. When their first steps happened, and where, and how old they were. What their favorite food was once they learned to tolerate solids. When their fangs came in. When they lost their first tooth. Anecdotes. Simple things like “Eldritch had a fever today, and so refused to sleep anywhere that wasn’t against me so he could keep cool,” or “We tried cutting Nim’s hair today, and she might be more of a peacock about her locks than her father,” or even just “I hugged Enoch today, for a quite the while…I don’t want to think about the day where he decides a hug from his world-saving parents is a detriment to his social reputation.”

•Astarion is terrible at baby talk. He just doesn’t have that instinct, or realize that’s something people do. Instead, he’ll walk around the house with a baby 30 days into their existence explaining the finer points socio-political structures and how they effect lawmaking decisions.

•Traveling never really stops, not even when Sable is pregnant. If she’s good to go and they’ve got somewhere they want or need to be, they go. That doesn’t mean Astarion isn’t Stressed to the Max the Whole Time.

•Co-conspirator Supreme. If there’s a prank to be pulled, he wants in.

•He doesn’t realize that he’s not all that different from Other Adults to the kids. He doesn’t realize that to them Dad has always been kind of chilly to the touch, or that his fangs are just longer versions of their own, or that his eyes are just red. That’s just the color they are. He’s only scary if something is scary to them—he’s never scary to them, only for them.

•He makes blankets for each before they’re born, because he doesn’t want their first instinct when he holds them to be anything other than safety, and the feeling of warmth.

•And gods help him when they reach that inquisitive “must touch everything” phase. Those fangs he was so worried they would fear inevitably become Forbidden Toys they all try to grab, and sometimes he’s too tired to even pull their hands away.

•Yeah, he complains about it constantly.

•Yeah, he misses it when they’re older.

•No, he’ll never admit it.

•Protective as he is, he does enjoy bringing them around the spawn and his siblings—once they’re older, of course. He’s still terrible at sharing with them when it comes to baby holding privileges, but he loves showing off.

•He’s that parent that won’t stop bragging about their kids. He talks about them like they hung the stars in the sky and command the sun to rise for their own entertainment. If you don’t know him, it’s annoying. If you do, it’s still annoying, but it’s at least endearing, too.

•Misses the baby stage more than he thinks he will. He tries not to dwell on the fact that his children are mortal, because he’s glad they don’t bear his lot in life, but he also doesn’t want to think about the day they’re no longer sharing the world with him and their mother.

•Is so scared he won’t actually manage to be a good parent, but quickly adapts when he realizes that they’re his, and he’s going to take care of them, and that matters above all else.

•Spoils them rotten. If the kids want something, they know to ask Dad. (They usually don’t even have to ask.)

[luvsimskaos]

One morning when Sable gets up early to make breakfast she is interrupted by Cato. It seems that he has a fever but it's worse than normal. With Cato seemingly in pain, Sable send him to bed.

For Cato it's the worse feeling in the world, especially after having a few normal days recently. Seeing her son so close to tears, Sable tries her best to comfort him. But whether because of the pain of the sickness or just the reality of his life, Cato doesn't feel better.

As she goes to Ishmael about Cato she is shocked by what she sees. It seems Cato isn't the only one overtaken by sickness this day. Ishmael lays in bed stricken with the same sickness that Cato has.

Ishmael tries to get out of bed to complete his duties but it's a struggle. Sable tells him to stay in bed, a sickness like this could cause more damage if Ishmael overworks himself. With both Ishmael and Cato sick, Sable knows she'll have help them to get better.

The next few days as Sable takes care of Ishmael and Cato doing her best to nurse them to health, the younger Warings take over the property duties. Daphne who shadowed her mother takes over cooking meals and cleaning the main house, Casper is in charge of the crops, and Elijah takes care of the animals and helps his younger siblings when he can.

[vahalia-cress]

⸸ Dosis Facit Venenum ⸸

DWC Nov 2024Day 3: Morose/Strength

For two days she stalked the Whitlock halls and roamed the gardens, often catching a glimpse of Abel’s eyes upon her as she explored. Several times a day she’d meet with Kalem to partake in tea and conversation. Finding out more and more about the man as time went on would have settled guilt uneasily in a simple stomach for those who hadn’t the heart for the things Vahalia had. Politics, games – she knew how they were to be played. It was no different here than in Ishgard, the many years of batting her eyes at the right folk, telling them what they wanted to hear, keeping her head low, and only allowing her exterior to draw in curious gazes.

What guilt she could feel gnawing at her heels was the dishonest slander of her sister’s name. Her memory. However, it was required in this situation. To disown her children as bastards? Well…

The sudden coughing from the bed behind her was enough to rouse Vahalia from the window as she looked to Kalem who buckled into the handkerchief he held, eventually beckoning her forward when he found his breath, “My apologies Halia. I had not foreseen a sickness into your arrival.”

Keen was the smile she wore when she turned towards him and welcomed herself to the bedside to take up the edge of the bed beside him, “I suspect living this close to the waters and the change of seasons often brings about a cold.”

“Indeed. We are no strangers to it. The air grows colder now; crisp.”

Reaching in Vahalia aimed to assist him with his pillows, taking note of the fever that wracked him as sweat glinted along his brow and goose pimples formed along his arms, “I suppose that is one thing I am thankful for about Ishgard. The clime stays much of the same for the most part. I tend to feel under the weather when I travel, in some cases.”

Kalem chuckled and coughed once more into the handkerchief as he rested his head back and regarded the sable-haired woman across from him, “Funny is it not? That no matter how old we become, we always yearn for healing hands when we are ill. My mother was a wonderful chirurgeon, she enjoyed helping others and she always knew how to make us feel better when we were ill.”

“Funny? No. I think it is only natural to want soothing when we are uncomfortable and unwell.” she hummed and reached for the basin of cool water at the bedside table, dipping one of the several available cloths within and wringing it, “I’m no chirurgeon, but I am here should you require a balm.” angling forward she folded the cloth and pressed it gently along Kalem’s brow in soft dabs.

She remembered the many times Odessa had taken care of she and Valeria in their youth, rarely leaving their side when faced with illness. She often slept in their rooms and insisted that she be the one to care for her daughters without the help of the household staff. Toiling over brews and remedies, homemade soups and teas crafted to assist in wellness and healing.

Perhaps in some respect, mothers were natural healers.

When Kalem’s hand found her wrist, Vahalia broke from her thoughts, hand no longer idling at his brow with the cloth as all movement gave pause. His voice with its usual cadence crackled gently, “You and I sit in the same realm of thoughts, Halia. Our position, our understanding.” his thumb drew down over the side of her wrist, “-- Loss.” he finished.

Her entire body tensed at the familiar feeling of the thumb on her wrist. How easily she could find comfort in such a touch—though this was not one of those days. It was a familiar touch by foreign hands, “I think the fever has started to affect you, Kal.” she chuckled and she coiled the cloth under her fingers.

“No. I think clearly, that I assure you.” his tired eyes swept over her face and she returned the gaze respectfully, “We should join our Houses. Start anew, find peace in healing together, and hold fast to what our parents had originally planned for us. A proper truce.”

“ I –” she began and when he released her wrist her hand withdrew to her lap, “Forgive me, Kalem. I’m…”

“You need time, I understand.”

Gently Vahalia shook her head, “No. I’ve been alone for so long that I’m not quite sure how to welcome others into my space so eagerly. I’ve done this for so long I don’t know how to share parts of my work so openly with others and my expectations are often hard to meet which is why my last marriage failed so terribly.”

“Your expectations and mind are what draw me to you.” he responded and tiredly he leaned in, the curl of his forefinger found the side of her cheek, “I think we could make quite the pair, you won’t have to do anything alone anymore. Allow me to be your strength on days when you haven’t any, and on days like today…” he laughed lightly, trying not to give in to the tickle at his throat that harkened a cough to come forth, “ – on days like today you can be mine.”

Her tongue glazed over her crimson tier and she looked to him with a small nod, “Let me sit with it for a day, I will consider the proposal and speak with my Retniue. You thought a truce between our Houses was not impossible but concerning marriage as an entirely different beast altogether that folks will be forced to recognize.”

“Take the time you require but remember, we are in a position to make those choices, and all others may either fall in line with them and build anew with us, or find themselves elsewhere.” he finished, the coughing finally catching up to him as he buckled forward with the handkerchief to his face and Vahalia promptly reached for the small vial at the desk to hand it to him.

“Here, this will ease the fever,” she added and when he swallowed it down she stood for the side table to reach for the teapot and cup, pouring out a fresh helping of the loose leaves and lemon to pass off the tea for him to find some comfort in.

With shaking hands Kalem took the tea and eased his breath, “I am grateful for you being here Halia, thank you for your strength today where mine own wanes.”

Tilting her head she smiled, watching him drink down the tea, her eyes roving over his face, flesh, and frame to take in the overall baseline from the previous day. Surely, in time, he would get well without a hitch and they would continue on with their visit as planned during Vahalia’s extended stay.

She was her mother's daughter but she was also her father's and her balm was often a poison.

For the Writing Challenge by: @daily-writing-challenge

[crow-bones-blog]

🖤 ⛓️ POC in Metal ⛓️ 🖤

The metal and nu-metal scene is flush with white folks, here's a shout out to the POC in metal (and punk, and rap/rock, nu-metal)

UnityTX

Oxymorons

FEVER 333

Ho99o9

Dropout Kings

Nova Twins

Suicidal Tendencies

Dead Kennedys

Pierce the Veil

Radkey

Meet Me @ The Altar

Sable Hills

[jazzystudios82]

Webcomic Recommendations ♡

Here are some comics that I've read (physically or digitally) that I'd like to recommend to people who have similar interests.

——————————————————————————

Webtoon:

Made of Stardust The Remarried Empress Muted Lore Olympus

Mythos Redone Ava's Demon Lackadaisy Crow Time Your Throne

The Reaper and the Waiting Gourmet Hound Crumbs

Siren's Lament The Prince of Southland Bailin and Li Yun

Cursed Princess Club The Wrath & The Dawn Ladykillers Hooky

Heartstopper Not Even Bones The Witch and The Bull Raven Saga

Lovebot The Blind Prince Jungle Juice When Jasy Whistles Osora

Forever After Nevermore Brimstone and Roses Asking You

Avatar: The Last Airbender The Fever King Jackson's Diary

Castle Swimmer Suitor Armor Blades of Furry Covenant

Les Normaux I'm the Queen in This Life Everything is Fine SubZero

Down to Earth Watermelon Love Me to Death Marionetta

My Gently Raised Beast Unholy Blood The Mafia Nanny

Morgana and Oz Freaking Romance Lumine Your Letter

Dark Moon: The Blood Altar The Star Seekers 7Fates: CHAKHO

Marry My Husband Batman: Wayne Family Adventures Yellow

Go Away Romeo School Bus Graveyard Sable Curse Novae

Dolls Realta ZomCom Death: Rescheduled Lovely Hell

I'm the Grim Reaper 23:4 The Guy Upstairs Mystic Prince

Lady Knight Twilight Poem The End of You Vermelho

Night Owls and Summer Skies SOLEIL Purple Hyacinth AXED

My Deepest Secret Always Human HEART Anthology Shiloh

I Love Yoo I Am the Villain Of Swamp & Sea The Little Trashmaid

Operation: True Love Silent Screams Like Wind on a Dry Branch

Eros Conquers All Fathoms of Atonement Wild Forest Beast House

My In-Laws are Obsessed with Me Homesick

My Husband Changes Every Night Punderworld Eaternal Nocturnal

Tapas:

Mother's Contract Marriage Daughter of A Thousand Faces

Villains Are Destined to Die Not-Sew-Wicked Stepmom

The Perks of Being an S-Class Heroine Doctor Elise

Beware the Villainess Lady Chef Royale I Made a Deal with the Devil

Star Crossed Love The Crimson Lady Solo Leveling

The Villainess's Stationary Shop House Garnet's Archvillain

The Baengri Clan's Unwanted Granddaughter The Crimson Lady

The Crow's Prince Magical Boy DPS Only! RAINBOW!

A Wicked Tale of Cinderella's Stepmom FANGS

Surviving as a Maid Office Gods What's Wrong with Secretary Kim?

The Siren: Becoming the Villain's Family His Majesty's Secret Heroine

The Villainess Turns the Hourglass Who Made Me a Princess?

Lady Crystal is a Man A Business Proposal Solo Leveling

The Demon's Darling Daughter I Shall Master this Family

The Fantasie of a Stepmother/A Stepmother's Marchen

Stella: The Lost Star The Lady and Her Butler

Why Raeliana Ended up at the Duke's Mansion

I Listened to My Husband and Brought in a Lover Swan Lake

I Will become the Villain's Poison Taster Magical Boy DPS Only!

As Goofy As Can Be! Wild Beast Forest house

Manta Comics:

Under the Oak Tree Finding Camellia Semantic Error

The Bromance Book Club Disobey the Duke if You Dare

Lies Become You

Tappytoon:

The Broken Ring: This Marriage Will Fail Anyway

The Abandoned Empress Born as the Second Daughter

ENNEAD King's Maker King's Maker: Triple Crown

Father, I don't want this Marriage The King and Me

Am I your daughter?

Lezhin Comics:

Heaven Official's Blessing Count Tachibana

Let's Hide My Little Brother Lucia My Roommate is a Cat

[missshezz]

Hey ;) How is life going for You ? I hope you're well and safe. Sending you hugs.

May I request a Malcolm Bright x Reader fic please ? Reader is Malcolm's closest friend so naturally he comes to visit her when she is sick so he can take care of her, just like she has been taking care of him through the hard times he has been going through.

You don't have to do it if you don't want to, really just do whatever makes you feel comfortable.

Please take care ;)

Hi there, anon! I am doing well .., survived Thanksgiving and Black Friday 🤣 sending you hugs, as well, and hoping you’re well!

I actually don’t normally do CC x Reader because of the complexity of the second person narrator POV. However, I had a thought for something while waiting for my brother to finish shopping. Hopefully, it fits what you wanted!

Title: The Air That You Breathe

Word Count: 750

Characters: Malcolm Bright and Reader

Tags: Sick!fic, friendship, Harvard years (pre-canon), humor, angst, fluff

…

It started out as the sniffles.

Nothing to worry about in your mind.

You had allergies. Sniffles tended to happen when they acted up. You had the other symptoms to further establish it was simply your allergies kicking you in the ass.

Then came the fever and chills.

A cough that left you short of breath.

“Bad cold,” your roommates said. “You’ll be fine in a few days.”

A bad cold became bronchopneumonia.

Landed you in the hospital three days before finals.

Definitely not how you wanted to finish the first half of your senior year but what could you do?

You tried to finish the mountain of papers and projects due but exhaustion dogged you at every turn.

Studying?

Yeah, there was a joke.

It took you four hours to read one page.

Even then you couldn’t remember one damn bit of what you read. After your twentieth attempt to read the page you tossed the offensive textbook across the room.

Luckily, it hit the wall and not the man who had slipped into your hospital room while you were arguing with said textbook.

“Uhm,” Malcolm said, instantly grabbing your attention. “I don’t think throwing your textbook is going to help the situation.”

“Like hell,” you wheezed as you shifted to look at him. “Throwing it made me feel better than I have in days.”

A nervous smile creased Malcolm’s lips. He ducked his head, strands of that gorgeous sable hair you longed to run your fingers through falling forward to conceal a face that should grace the covers of GQ, Esquire, and Men’s Vogue. You often wondered why he hid his smile like that that but you never asked him.

You weren’t one to pry and Malcolm Bright wasn’t one to cough up answers unless he chose to give them.

Not that it mattered really.

Everyone had their idiosyncrasies.

Malcolm’s were just a bit… odder than some.

They were what made him so adorkable.

“What’re you doing here?” you asked as you managed to finally catch your breath. “I figured you’d be up to your eyeballs with getting ready for finals.”

“I wanted to come see you,” he said. “Make sure you were getting better.”

“I’m getting better.” Much too slowly in your opinion. Not that you had any choice in the matter. Doctors and their medicine could only do so much. The rest was simply up to your body and whenever it decided to finally kick this shit. “Thanks for coming by,” you said. “Been hard being cooped up in here without my phone or computer.”

A frown creased Malcolm’s brow.

“I brought your phone and laptop when I brought your books.”

“And my mom confiscated them when she left.”

“Why?”

“Cause I’m here to get well.”

As if you couldn’t get better while using your phone and laptop.

Your mom was adamant, however.

No phone, no computer.

Not until you were released from the hospital. Blue-green eyes winked out from between the strands of hair begging you to brush them from his face.

“I’ve missed you.”

Your heart melted at his shyly uttered confession. That or the drugs they’ve got me on have made me loopy. Either way, those words filled you with the warm fuzzies.

You had had a crush on Malcolm since Freshman year but he seemed absolutely clueless to it.

Not much of a shock really.

Social situations weren’t Malcolm’s strong suit.

Making his missing you all the sweeter.

“Here.” Malcolm set a white paper bag on your hospital tray. “I brought you a container of minestrone and breadsticks from Luigi’s.” Another small smile curved his lips. “Figured it’d help you feel better.”

Like her Nonna’s chicken noodle soup made him feel better whenever his stomach was unable to keep anything but Twizzlers and sparkling water down.

You thought you were going to turn into a big pile of goo at his thoughtfulness.

He tended to do things like bringing you tea with lemon on a cold day or a blueberry bagel because you tended to forget to have breakfast.

And yeah he tended to always have an extra scantron because he knew you’d forget to pick up one before class.

Because Malcolm Bright sucked balls at reading social situations.

He was shit at expressing his feelings verbally.

And yeah, maybe he focused a bit too much on murder and murderers.

He was damn good at knowing just how to make a shitty day better.

That, in the end, was all that mattered.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Heard you wanted some song recs so here you go :D

(please excuse my bizarre taste in music).

“Comics” - Caravan Palace (Crazy song, sounds like a zipper, but it’s still really good).

“Sable Leathery Wings” - Nero’s Day at Disneyland (Underrated breakcore/noise pop song, I have no idea what the lyrics are tbh).

“Pepper steak” - OFF OST (*aggressive breakdancing*)

“Toy Food” - Lemon Demon (weird guy rapping about toy food, it's really catchy).

“People” - Holy Holy (I think this song is about a riot, but I SWEAR Holy Holy is an underrated gem I tell you. If you like indie rock, check out their songs, you won't be disappointed).

“Brutus” - The Buttress (Just Brutus of Rome venting and screaming about wanting to be famous or smth).

“The Wolf” - Fever Ray (If Little Red Riding Hood was a goth).

“Hollow” - Cloudeater ( POV : Sidekick turned evil).

“Murky” - Saint Mesa (Dark, eerie, and heroic song. The beat drops at 1:51).

Have a fantastic day/night :)

I love Comics!!! It’s such a vibe tbh but I haven’t listened to it in a longgg time—

Makes me feel like

[shisasan]

[dwellerinroots]

Just a short review - Rain World

So, although a lot of my posts have been - Elder-Scrolls adjacent, recently, most of the folks who know me know me for my love of weird fiction, speculative fiction, and the like. Also boomer shooters, but that's because... Quake, now there was a game, quake... I love games like @mortallymoonstruckgames Mushroom Musume; a particularly faerie-tale like game that has everything I enjoy in gaming. A dark sense of whimsy, a comforting world that nevertheless is filled with hidden mysteries and dangers, and a lot of mushrooms (culturally important to yours truly). (And if you enjoy TES and especially reading the books within, I really can't recommend it enough!) I love games like Schmidt Workshop's Star Explorers. A very weird throwback stellar dungeon crawler that feels like a long and open-world trip to stars without number... A bit like the old game Noctis, for any similar oddballs out there. Well, due to the awesome @pikkish who you should go check out if you're interested in doomlore, writing, or art... I just found another one. If you like xenofiction, you'll like this one, too. Review beneath the cut!

A lot of the weird indie games I play have this stunning sense of atmosphere. Amon... Uh, give me a minute, Amon Twentysix's Au Sable is a moody and dark adventure that feels like the kind of fever dream I end up chasing while I write. Rain World begins, instantly, in a world that is unknown to you or I. There are things that are familiar and things we can understand, but they are points of reference and lines and structures against what is not.

All the dead structures and windswept ruins and the tides and their ceaseless rise, abetted by the titular rain (rain world; it's right there in the title, natch!) make everything in the life of lil Slug Cat feel what it is - an awful, beautiful, struggle for survival. First I need to mention that this game is hard. Not hard like 'difficult,' I mean that there are a lot of moments where you are simply going to die because that's part of the ecosystem. You can get progressively better at avoiding, even exploiting some of these moments, but - yeah, you're going to die. Death is a constant part of life; it pervades the ecosystem of everything, and have I mentioned the ecosystem? For those that follow me, a lot of what I enjoy is what I'll call critter design, but is better thought of as xenobiology. In a strange system, one that's open or hostile or friendly or strange, where does life fall, how does it work, what do things do? It took me ages to even realise Rain World was a game about these things, far more then just surviving or exploring. Arguably, learning why beasties do what they do helps you the player survive, too. It is one of the COOLEST feelings in a game, although I want to stress again - for those who don't like uncompromising difficulty, I figure this'd be one you can watch a slow, non-vocalised Let's Play of and still enjoy immensely. (Possibly while still buying a copy; because...) The game is artistic to the extreme. Each biome feels like it's own little world, while still connecting to the greater world it's part of. This is hard to get right, on a local level (e.g; metroidvanias that take a look at a small slab of a world) or at the 'global' level, like in Rain World. And we don't travel the entire world; but it feels like we do. Weirdly enough, another game that I want to praise for nailing it is, of all things, a strange game called Dungeon Munchies. Normally I don't care for 'memes' or humour-first games, but it really isn't one of those.

In Rain World, your tools are very limited, your movements need to be cautious, and you have to always be watching. But that doesn't mean you can't communicate - threatening, avoiding, feeding, even wordless negotiation are things that happen and I know I haven't cracked all the interactions just yet! It's - absolutely incredible, and I feel like even including pictures wouldn't explain why it works so well. Also, for those who know me, I believe it hits what folks call 'aesthetic.' Just a slipgate away from home! Summing up my feelings would be a bit much; there are a lot of them. It is an astoundingly beautiful game, incredibly brutal and unforgiving (apparently less so then at launch, mind!) and one that really wants you to uncover it's secrets at it's pace. However, there are a lot of tools to help you do that, and the secrets themselves are beautiful and indescribably touching. You find yourself thinking about moments long after they've happened, or asking yourself "I wonder if" about areas, creatures, interactions... Most of all, though, it feels properly alien. A wonderful setting without humans - or perhaps, with things that were human as a distant memory. It matters not; time has passed, and all returns. For now, sit and rest awhile. Thank you for reading.

[dayb00k]

14 Jan 2023

day 14~ lake walk ✨️🌊🧜🏽‍♀️

sing, heart sing. until the soul deafens and stills in its granite shroud, the loud tyranny of moonlight mocks the tethered gait of the body

& I burn to escape its sable fevers, and lace its limbs in slim ecstasies, the skin seizures under radiant surges

& sings at a truer depth

✨️🌊🧜🏽‍♀️

[incoherent-brainrot]

C17 [Sage]

“Sweetheart?”

Rose is whining in pain and her body’s form is unstable, shimmering between her human and natural forms. Her body is curled around a fine sable coat, the golden brown fur matching her skin tone perfectly. Sage focuses his spiritual energy in his hands, gliding them over her body, trying to lead her spiritual power to circulate in a healthy way. Touching her stings his hands like static, but he doesn’t care.

“Rose, please, stay here with me.” Sage does his best, but Rose’s body gives out and she faints. Her antlers are healed and have grown tall, and they radiate spiritual energy like heat, setting fire to the moss and grass around them. Sage lifts Rose’s heavy natural form as best he can with the babies strapped to his chest, making sure the coat is wrapped around her.

“Sage! Where are you?” King Adalgiso’s deep voice rings out, and Sage frowns.

“I’m in the forest to the west!” Sage shifts Rose’s body in his arms, her fever making him sweat. This never happened before her people showed up.

Cirrus finds Sage first, and he reaches for Rose before recoiling. “Why is Leviathan’s coat on her?”

Sage’s eyebrow twitches. “What?”

Cirrus grabs the coat and flings it away. “Leviathan uses sable coats. He must’ve come back to try talking to her. Put her down, let me check her for injuries.”

Sage doesn’t trust Cirrus. He doesn’t trust any of these sky-folk that aren’t Rose. She was sweet, loyal, gentle, small; all of these men seemed conniving and slick, hiding it behind the inherent majesty of their huge bodies. “I’m taking Rose back to the palace. She needs to rest.” Sage adjusts how he holds Rose, putting her on his broad back. She wraps her arms and legs around him on instinct, and his heart blooms with warmth. She knows I’m her mate even when she’s unconscious.

Sage doesn’t bother to check if Cirrus is following him as he treks back to the palace. The babies are purring against his chest, and Rose’s body starts to purr with them. Cynara’s horns start to glow, the powder puffs at the the tops radiating something that looks like pollen. Rose breathes it in, and Sage can feel her heartbeat slow and her fever drop slightly as he walks. “Great job, littlest one. Mama will be okay soon, don’t stress your little body.” Sage talks to the babies like this until he encounters the Emperor on his war-horse.

“Lord Sage!” Sage tries not to step back on instinct as the huge horse looms over him. “How is Queen Briar? Has the tar-sickness returned?”

Sage shakes his head. “I think she’s just exhausted. She seems to have had a fight with Leviathan. Cynara used some magic, and it seemed to stabilize Rose but I’m unsure how long it will last.”

The Emperor tightens his grip on the hilt of his saber. “I’ll send out the war-ship immediately. What does Queen Briar need to recover?”

Sage bites his lip. “I think she needs fresh water.”

The Emperor dismounts his horse, clearly intending to put Rose on its broad back. “You can use the royal bath for as long as you need.”

“No, I…she needs her sweetwater place. It’s the only thing I can think of that could heal her fever.” Sage doesn’t give Rose to the Emperor, fear churning his insides.

The Emperor nods and puts a hand to Sage’s cheek. “It’s her special place, right? Don’t worry. Take my horse. I can walk back to the palace.”

Sage feels his heart swell with gratitude. “Emperor, I…thank you, for—”

The Emperor covers Sage’s mouth. “Look at my island. I’m the one who should be thanking you for bringing a sky-woman here. Come on, let’s get her onto the saddle.”

*******************************************************

Sage is kneeling in the water with Rose in his arms. It’s been two hours, but her fever is still simmering. Her body is curled around her babies, so he can’t submerge her completely without soaking the babies on her chest. Even so, the lake has turned completely to honeymilk. The scent is soothing, and Sage fights the urge to smile. He uses his hand to run water down her back. “Rose, please. Wake up for us, for me.”

The babies start to make noise and shuffle around, their little hands searching for where they nurse. Sage shifts how he holds Rose, coaxing her body to float on her back. He holds her up, and the babies snuggle into her. Aster is the first to latch onto Rose, and Rose winces even in her sickly state. “Gentle, Aster, please. You mama is hurt.”

Sage tries to take comfort in the sound of the babies nursing, but seeing Rose so still and lifeless again makes his stomach curl in on itself. Sage had read the books his family had compiled about sky-women cover to cover countless times, but nothing about Rose losing control of her form was written about. He didn’t know how to help her, and Sage hated his ignorance. “Rose, please. I don’t know what to do.”

Sage kisses Rose between her antlers. His fingers brush against her scar, and his hand feels jolted by static.

Sage has the distinct feeling of falling backward, as if thrown from a rearing horse. He lands with a blunt thud against grass. Where are the babies and Rose? He sits up, and gasps aloud.

Rolling fields of yellow grass and green cacti green his eyes. The cacti of all shapes and sizes are in full fruit, the pitayas gleaming like rubies in the soft sun of the morning. A stiff breeze rattles the grass and mesquite trees, making a pleasant sound almost like a flute.

A little sky-girl is running around from cactus to cactus, collecting pitayas on a little sling on her back. She’s only as tall as Sage’s calf. Her fur is the softest tawny color, practically gold, and her fawn-spots are snowflakes dancing across her whole body and face. The sky-child’s horns are simply little nubbins atop her head, wrapped in glittering velvet. Her tail is long and ends in a powderpuff that reminds Sage of a dandelion. The little sky girl is dressed only in a little skirt that covers her modesty. “Queen Titania, hurry!”

Sage turns where the sky-baby is calling. A huge sky-woman is cresting the hill, her body twice as tall as Sage. Her body is all curves: broad shoulders, wide hips, and a softly rounded belly. Her horns are incredibly fractal antlers, glowing like volcanic glass. Her skin is the deepest mahogany, and small white freckles are dusted across her nose like powdered sugar. Her ears are the same pleasant triangles of a water buffalo’s, and they sway as she walks. “Littlest one, you know I’m slower than you with my medicine pack.”

Sage blinks at the size of the sky-woman, especially compared to the little sky-baby. The woman is wearing a large medicine pack, weighed down with plants and fruits Sage has never seen before. Her long tail whips out behind her, whipping the grass and plants around her continuously to help her maintain balance. The end of her tail looks like a salsify about to go to seed, puffy and bright.

“But Queen Titania, the best pitaya are over here.” The sky-baby opens her smiling eyes, revealing maroon irises, and Sage realizes this is baby Rose. Sage’s heart fills with warmth; Rose was so small as a baby. Would his little girls be this small, too?

Titania chuckles and walks with Rose over to a huge saguaro with gnarled arms and a perfect crown of ruby fruits. Titania bends down to lift Rose, but Rose is already scampering up the saguaro, her little hands and tiny rabbit feet climbing swiftly up the saguaro. Rose grabs the ruby pitaya fruits, but a fierce burst of wind blows her off just as she turns to put the fruits in her little sling. Rose’s tiny body curls on impact, her little cloud-like wings too small to fly or glide her to safety.

“Rose!” Sage and Titania say this in unison, but Sage’s voice is soundless in this vision. Titania moves faster than a hummingbird’s wingbeat, catching Rose before her little body hits the earth. “Littlest one, are you alright?”

Rose uncurls in Titania’s arms. “Look, I saved the good pitayas for you.”

Titania gives Rose a tight hug. “Briar Rose, don’t ever do that again. Your body is still little and fragile. Come on, let’s find a place to rest.” Titania carries Rose in her arms, Rose still cradling the pitaya on her belly, until she finds a grassy knoll free of ants.

Titania rests with her back to the sun, using her smoke-like wings to shield her and Rose from the harsh rays. She cradles Rose to her chest, playing with Rose’s little rabbit feet as Rose reclines against her. She seems deep in thought, and her ruby eyes are dark with emotions that seem unpleasant as she rubs the tops of Rose’s feet with her thumbs. Sage walks over and sits close to them, knowing this is some sort of vision but wanting anyways to be close to two sky-women.

“Littlest one, do you understand what the Seer told you today?” Titania looks down at Rose, and Rose shrugs.

“That I’m made of stardust? I mean, I guess that means I’ll be like you when I grow up, right?” Rose shrugs and looks up at Titania with large, curious eyes.

“Yes, it means you’ll be like me.” Titania squeezes Rose’s feet, biting her lip as if holding back what she wants to say.

“Well, then that’s a good thing, right? I love you more than anyone and so if I become like you that means I’ll finally be something good, right?” Rose wraps her little tail around Titania’s wrist.

Titania’s eyes brim with tears. “Littlest one, you already are something good.” Titania hugs Rose tightly, and Sage feels something in him wilt hearing Rose talk about herself negatively while being so little. She’s clearly a child; what child thinks of themselves as good or bad?

Rose thinks she’s in trouble, and starts to panic. “Wait, I’m sorry if I said something wrong!” She tries to roll and show Titania her soft belly, but Titania stops her. She sits Rose down on the grass to face her, taking Rose’s tiny tawny hands into her own.

“Don’t worry. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Titania breathes in and sighs. “Briar Rose, listen to me, okay? You’re going to be so important when you grow up. You’ll have so much magic to share with the world, if you want to. But this also means that people will want that magic, that importance, for themselves. People will do or say anything just to take a little piece of you. Even other Gods will want you, because of the special magic inside you.” Titania rubs her tail-tip over Rose’s belly. “You have to walk and talk everyday like you understand that you have the power to make a new world on a whim. I’m not saying make people afraid of you. I just mean that…”

Queen Titania pauses. She picks Rose up into her arms and cradles her close, pressing her nose against Rose’s. In this moment, the two look extremely alike, down to the snowstorm of freckles across their face. “I don’t regret how my life will play out. I don’t regret the choices that led me to being here with you, or married to King Leviathan, or any of that. I love our people and accept my fate. But I want a life that’s different for you, where you feel like you made your own choice of who to share yourself with, who to share your heart with, to offer magic to who you think is worthy. When you finally find someone you trust to bring magic into the world with, I want your heart to be as happy as your mind at fulfilling the role Creator made for you. You’ll replace me in the Pantheon the way I replaced Queen Apolonia, and I m want you to feel happy that that is your choice.”

Rose’s eyes are huge and brimming with tears. “I don’t understand. I don’t want to replace you, I love you! Why can’t we be Gods together? Can I give this power back? Please!”

“Creator made it this way, and we can’t ask why. We can only enjoy the time we are given.” Titania smiles, but her eyes are sad. “Don’t worry, littlest one. No matter what happens, I’ll be so proud to watch you grow up.” She kisses Rose’s little nose, and Rose falls asleep instantly. Titania hides her face in one hand, muffling how she cries. Sage tries to reach out for her, as if that will do anything. But Titania looks up, as if looking right at Sage.

“It’s not nice to spy, hunter Sage.” Titania wipes her tears, and she looks angry. The creases of anger on her face make Sage flinch back.

“I wasn’t trying to spy! I was trying to help Rose, and then—”

“Just be quiet and let my baby sleep.” Titania continues to cry. “I want her to have all the peace she deserves before I die.” She hugs Rose to her chest, her head as big as Rose’s whole body.

Sage kneels, his hands finding the bravery to touch Queen Titania’s. “Why are you sending me this vision? Or, why is Rose letting me see this? She’s never answered me when I asked about her before the island, other than to tell me her station and why she ran away.”

“Rose lived a whole life before she met you. It filled her body with a lot of pain. Her nerves ache down to their very dendrites. Even a sky-person’s body can’t keep that score alone anymore, as much as Rose would never choose to tell you these things, do you understand?” Titania looks at Sage, and seeing himself reflected in her ruby eyes takes his breath away.

“But don’t you think of me as one of those people that just wants Rose for her magic?” Sage looks at Rose’s little face as she sleeps, silvery tears making her cheeks shiny. His heart aches at the sight.

“Do you only want Rose for her magic? Are you holding her up right now in her sweetwater draw just so she’ll wake up and wave a hand over your island and make crops grow? When you laid with her and planted two sparks of life in her, was that just to tie her magic to you?” Titania uses her tail to separate her and Rose from Sage.

Sage feels like his skin is sloughing off. “No! I wanted Rose before I even knew what she was! That’s why I was so hurt when I realized who she really is, because she knew the whole time that I wanted her.”

“If I told you Rose would never bind herself to you, would you leave her?” Titania’s tail goes from a delicate salsify to a thistle made of iron.

“I would never leave Rose unless she didn’t want me anymore.” Sage let’s himself droop. “Was Rose…does Rose want to be with your husband and just not feel good enough? I don’t…if he can give her a happier life, I don’t want to keep her here with me even if we have children.” Sage doesn’t know why he’s telling Titania this. She probably couldn’t care less about his trifling life as a human. Sage covers his face, wishing he didn’t feel like he was being boiled alive by his own feelings. But all he can think of was Rose talking to Leviathan, wearing that sable coat, losing herself after whatever happened. If Sage was just a mistake Rose made in heat, he felt like he deserved to know even if that knowledge would make him fling himself off the salt cliffs.

“Rose has chosen to be with you each time my husband has come calling, hasn’t she? Even when he proclaimed to love her shooting-star spots.” Titania’s tail turns back into a soft white salsify.

“But if she’s just doing that because she thinks what happened to her made her ugly or unworthy, then…”

Titania’s ears alert to something. Sage spins around, hunting knife ready as if he can do anything in this dream-space. In that moment, Titania shoves him with her tail.

Sage plummets through the grass and earth, seeing bugs and worms and bones and roots. He falls further, plummeting through space. He closes his eyes, gritting his teeth against the sensation of hurtling through space.

Sage lands back in his body with a gasp. He opens his eyes, and Rose is still floating on her back, his hands anchoring her to him. The babies are asleep on her belly; if they’re done feeding, then only 15 minutes have passed in the real world. Sage can feel eyes on him and Rose, and he growls as he looks around. A pair of ruby eyes gleam at him from afar before flickering out of existence.

“Queen Titania, wait!” Sage calls out, but it’s too late.

Rose starts to make noise, and Sage takes the babies so she can stand up in the water. She falls back into her human form, but her antlers remain albeit shorter than when she was in her natural form. Rose rubs her temples as if her head hurts. “Where am I?”

“Rose, you’re in your sweetwater place. I brought you here to heal after you collapsed. You…spoke or to Leviathan or fought again?” Sage’s guts tremble, knowing he’s toeing a hazardous line with her, but he needs to know what happened. Did he kiss her freckles, did she let him? Does he know the soft moan she makes, how she hides her face when she’s close?

“He tried coming back to convince me to call off the Gathering. He wanted me to talk it out with him.” Rose immediately looks upset. “He said he would love me even if my fawn-spots stayed on my face if he had been the one to bed me first, can you believe that? As if that’s the fucking problem!” Rose scratches at her throat and chest, leaving angry welts that zip shut almost as soon as they’re opened.

“Rose…what is the problem? Because the more I spend time with you, the less it is that I believe you won’t marry him or me because of how you lost your baby coat. I’m not trying to say that incident wasn’t traumatic for you. But…Rose, we have children together! I sleep next to you every night. And I still don’t know why you’re fighting so hard to stay away from him and the rest of your people. You literally started getting this tar-sickness as soon as your people began showing up around you—”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve lost control of my shape. Sometimes it’s just spilling out of my human form. Sometimes it’s just fainting and waking up in a new place. Today’s tar wasn’t even the first time. It’s just a sign that I’m toxic.” Rose’s voice is grating and mechanical. “You’re right that I’m not just shirking away from marriage because of some self-esteem issue from what that first hunter did to me.” Rose starts to walk out of the water, and Sage follows her.

“Rose, wait. Please. Just talk to me. I want to help, to support you, to love you.” Sage hates that he’s always chasing Rose and begging for her to trust him enough to love her. “I want to know about every piece of you.”

“If you knew what I did, you wouldn’t. None of you would. I don’t care how normal the other Gods think it was. You said you would be devoted to me for as long as I wanted you to be; since when does that entail you demanding anything of me? Did I not give you the magic you wanted? Is this island not proof that I love you? Are these twin gods that my body brought forth from the spirit realm in your honor not proof that I love you?” Rose is getting up in Sage’s face, talking as much with her hands as aloud. Her eyes are ruby pits of anger, and Sage can feel her rage radiate off her.

“Rose, your magic isn’t why I love you. If you stopped giving me your magic today, I would still be here.” Sage tries to reach out to touch her face, to rub his thumb soothingly across her cheek the way he knows she likes.

Rose slaps his hand away. She says something in her language, and Sage feels his heart splintering. He grabs her face in one hand, hating that he’s touching her like this but not able to think of anything else. “Please, Rose, talk to me!”

Rose looks him in the eye. Her horns are glowing as if filled with molten iron. In the color of her eyes, Sage can see a memory, of Rose and her body looming large over a mountainside village. When Rose next blinks, the scenery changes, and Rose is pulling her screaming body out of the huge shell that had been her body. Sage uses his hand to pull her close, staring into her eyes as the memories swirl across them. “Rose?”

She pulls away, but nothing in her body language tells Sage that she knows he’s seen this memory in her eyes. “Don’t grab at me. You promised you would never do that to me. I’ll leave if you do that again.” Rose snatches the babies out of his hands, and they squeak in alarm. Sage can hear Rose crying as she turns and walks away, but he’s still trying to make sense of what he saw in her eyes.

“Don’t take the babies from me like that, please. I’m sorry I grabbed your face that way.” Sage follows her, resisting the urge to grab her hand. “Please, don’t shut me out. I’ve been so terrified between this and your tar sickness that I just, I need to know who you are. I love who you are now. But you said before that you felt I deserved a woman whose heart I don’t question.”

“You think I’ve been unfaithful?” Rose spins around, her eyes aflame. Sage throws up his hands, trying so show he’s not trying to say that. “Do you think Cynara and Aster aren’t yours?”

“No! That’s not what I am saying. I’m saying…” Sage bites his lip until warm blood spurts into his mouth. “Rose, when you were asleep in your sweetwater, somehow I saw one of your memories. I saw you as a baby with Queen Titania, how much you obviously loved her and she loved you. I know there’s something inside you that’s hurting you, and I’m not afraid of what that thing is. I want to know what it is, I want to help lift that heavy stone from your heart. What I am afraid of is all these sky-folk who know you more than me, who know what you lived for the hundreds of years before I met you. I’m afraid that they’ll take you away from me or worse, that you’re only with me because of my naïveté. That somehow Leviathan knowing everything about you before you hid your powers makes you unworthy of him but befitting of me. I don’t…” Sage can feel the words he’s about to say tearing a hole in his heart, but he needs to say them. He wished Creator would strike him dead from the way Rose’s wide eyes look at him full of pain and fear. “I don’t want to be with you if the only reason you lay next to me at night is because you don’t feel good enough for anyone else. I don’t want to be an albatross around you neck that you punish yourself with.”

Sage does not expect what happens next. Rose falls to her knees, and words in her language start to tumble out. Her horns touch his forehead, and he’s hurtling through space again.

[luvsimskaos]

After a rough night with Cato's fever, it's time for toddler's Elijah birthday! A happy occasion after such a worrisome one. Their little toddler blows out the candles and becomes a child.

With Elijah becoming a child. he'll now be able to go to school and help his family with the farm. His parents are happy to finally get some help around the land, especially with Sable about to give birth.

[louisdulacblog]

There is a chord

Book One Aesthetic

꧁ 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 ꧂

Author's Note: So excited for this fic though I hated writing this chapter because a lot of the lines I took directly from the book, which made me feel lazy. I was excited to flesh out our love interest but realised that this is his last chapter in the book where we'll get his POV lmao.

Sɴɪᴘᴘᴇᴛs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅɪᴅɴᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ғɪɴᴀʟ ᴇᴅɪᴛ:

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 1830

Lestat carved the final stroke in the wood and stood back to appraise his work. It wasn't his usual medium and took much more time than sketching or painting. Though now that he looked at it, it wasn't good. Foolish in his belief that he'd get it in the first try he threw the tool across the room and sighed, gripping into his hair.

He was restless. It had not been this bad since 1471 but then again Lestat had tried to wait it out the previous years before this. His Saint had lived half a century and though half of that Lestat had been in a daze. It had felt like a fever those years. A haze he could not make sense of.

He felt like that now. Going in and out of reality. Reliving memories stacked on memories. The door to the studio opened and in came Mathias. He was an old man, wise but had some humour on his bone. "All is well?" He asked, walking over to appraise Lestat's work.

Lestat hummed a negative as he turned to the carving. "A wood engraving? I did not know you worked in this medium." He said, walking closer, his hands fluttering over the work. Lestat wanted to rip his hands off. He wanted to scream. Instead he answered:

"My first time. I thought it would make a good challenge."

"Not much of a challenge is it, if you're this good at it." Mathias laughed.

"Not good enough. The subject figure...it didn't come out right. Doesn't capture the likeliness of my muse." Lestat was surprised by his honesty but then he wasn't in his right mind, now was he? Trembling in grief and fatigue.

Mathias took back his hand at last and turned to Lestat. "You worked from memory?" A hint of surprise in his tone.

"Forced to," Lestat answered approaching nearer to his work, trailing one single finger in the arch of his Saint's hips. "He was taken away from me."

There was silence that told a lot. Mathias had known Lestat was interested in one of his slaves but was too busy fucking his Saint to notice which one. And how it had tormented Lestat. This era was the most difficult of eras for him.

His hesitation in following the laws and his eagerness to have his Saint again had led to a tumbling of occurrence that had in the end, served to kill his Saint, taken from Lestat too soon. Lestat had treated his Saint roughly. Because of his restlessness and eagerness and desperation for this curse to end.

He was not proud of what role he had into his death but he could not feel wholly guilty because he was still sure that death was kinder than what life his Saint endured.

Mathias asked, under his breath as if ashamed of the question he had already had the answer to. "And the title of your work?"

"The Voyage of the Sable Venus from Angola to the West Indies." Lestat spit out, harsh. He turned to face Mathias who stood tall in his short height, who flinched.

He frowned, looked away to the art piece. "Ah, Venus." He said softly. "A beautiful thing. He was a demon, you know? No man or woman did not desire him in some form or other."

Lestat could not speak with the rage that built up in him. His back burned from the urge to let his wings out. Mathias stood none the wiser. Too busy trying to put himself in good lighting to a judge to his actions that didn't exist. "The sin I committed with Venus wasn't my fault to bear. Man may not lay with man. But he was a demon. An angel. Even you, holy in your standing and above all, could not resist. It does not make me a lesser man."

Lestat turned and strutted out the room before he would lay his hands on that wretched man.

W. Grainger after T. Stothard, The Voyage of the Sable Venus from Angola to the West Indies, 1801, wood engraving.

In 1827 England, slavery was abolish and black slaves became "apprentices" under white men. In the final draft Louis is named Venus after his what his mother had believed was his grandfather who was a slave and looked exactly like him. I wanted to stick to history as much as possible.

This led me to The Voyage of the Sable Venus from Angola to the West Indies. Slaves were often used for more than just labour but also sexual gratification from their owners. Many slaves were raped, especially women.

This artwork was part of a series of works and poems. Here is the link. It explains in summary how slaves were named after strong figures to further make the master feel powerful in dominating them and a show of how well taught the master is. Most slave women were named after goddesses because of this.

Because of reasons I will not disclose, Louis is more sexualised because of his unique image in this era of time. It was interesting to write and it was such a good lore to take but I realised it would make the chapter longer and not make much sense since we do not get to meet Louis here.