#sal and pals

[devi-town]

I got my best suit and my tie With shiny silver dollar on either eye I hear the chauffeur comin' to my door He says there's room for maybe just one more

[petitecreme]

Hair.

[chaosteddybear]

Owlcatober Day 6

Art by @dmagedgoods and writing by me! THE ART IS AMAZING AS ALWAYS

Mix sighs and lets his thoughts flow through him like waves - unguided, unrestrained. Each one as beautiful as the next, whether it will find a shore to crash against or just fade away.

Two sets of eyes appear in his mind. One set radiant green, the other cool torquoise. They blink at him expectantly. Both draw his heart towards them, tempting him to turn back. To get back to work.

But his legs carry him up, unbothered by the thin brush he navigates. His lungs fill his blood with crisp oxygen. His head is light, his back losing its burden with every step.

He will be with them again, later.

-

Peace. Freedom. Calm. Indulgence.

A state of being that calls to him only in a whisper. Though he may not stay long, he has no real choice but to heed it.

A pang emerges from his gut, telling him he has gone far enough. He surveys the area, finds a thick and smooth branch to perch in, and watches the birds. The thin bark is cool on his cheek as he rests against it, but the air is warm. His legs hang down, more relaxed than any of the crusaders ever get to see him. He only has a few hours.

He reminds himself that no state can be skipped. No single one less important than the rest.

First, the storm - granting sustenance to all living things, delivering potable water in the most dramatic way possible. Then, the consumption - the intimate usage of water as sustenance then discarding it. Finally, the rest - the gathering of what remains until it's ready to be made potable again.

I experience them all. I, too, flow through stages of existence. Storm. Consumption. Rest. Each one an indulgence.

He watches an owl crawl into its roost for the day before closing his eyes, as if to join it in rest. A small smile creeps onto his lips as he basks in the glory of the wide open, at one with the world around him. The blurred line between where his consciousness stops and the rest of it begins.

Passion.

Function.

Calm.

Passion.

Function.

Calm.

Passion.

I can't dwell in passion - for I would torture those I love. I can't dwell in function - for I would torture myself. I can't dwell in calm - for life would lose its beauty.

He thinks about the other two for a bit, letting his heart swell as he appreciates the time they spend together, sometimes all together, sometimes not. He opens his eyes.

Alone. It may seem a luxury, but it's needed. Taking breaks from expectation, duty, protection is necessary to feed the cycle... Allowing everyone else a break from me..

He startles at the sound of loud rustling, and looking towards it he catches lights reflecting off familiar armor as an adored face emerges from the bushes. He smiles as he watches Salvadore look around, searching for where the trail would continue.

Then Salvadore looks up. Mix smiles widely down at him.

"Can they get along at camp without the both of us?"

"They'll be fine," Salvadore pulls Mix down from the tree branch by his ankle, guiding him to fall into his arms. The feel of his hand on Mix's bare flesh reminds him how much he loves not being truly alone. He sighs in relief, admiration, and happiness as he makes himself comfortable there for a moment, enjoying being brought back.

Does he ever have to touch the ground again? Can he just stay here forever?

He doesn't have time to take a deep breath before Salvadore's lips are on his, kissing him passionately.

"I'll always chase you," Salvadore reminds him.

[dmagedgoods]

🎂 for Sal?

🎂 for a scene from a birthday The whole house reminded him of a humming beehive, only that the bees scurrying from room to room were dressed in solemn black instead of fancy stripes. Nevertheless, they spread the same feeling of chaos while every single one followed a strict plan and stuck to a predestined path. Salvadore pressed the adorned leather book to his chest. Tightly. The corridor felt endless and his heart throbbed louder and louder in his own ears. Eventually, he reached the high ornamented door. And as usual, it was guarded. One of the uniformed men stopped him. “What is the matter, young lord?” He was not allowed in the rooms behind, but maybe today. Only once. Salvadore tried to swallow his fear, to strengthen his back, and to appear more intimidating than he felt looking up at the huge man in front of him. “I want to speak to mother. Let me in,” he demanded. “Lady Eleanor is quite busy and wishes for no interruptions until the celebrations begin.” The celebrations where she would be surrounded by all those strangers and at father’s side. “I will be quick!” “Unfortunately, this answer is final, young lord.” His throat felt tight but he fought down his emotions and turned away with an angry glare towards the guardsmen. He dropped his gaze to the valuable book in his hands he had found in one of the hidden shops he wasn’t allowed to visit. Eneas took him there in secret sometimes. When he had spotted the black leather with the golden symbols and touched the heavy blank sides of expensive parchment, he had known it was the perfect gift for mother’s birthday and her beautiful sketches. With bitter disappointment, he let it fall into the trash the moment he reached his room again. “What’s wrong, Sali?” His brother sat on his bed, grinning like the disgusting fool he was. “Get lost!” “Always whining for mommy’s attention. She doesn’t want to see you. She doesn’t want you here. No one does. When will you finally get it?” “She doesn’t want to see you either, moron.” It was a statement more than an attack. The bitterness had made its way into his voice and didn't even leave room for anger. His brother’s lips tightened in badly disguised rage. “What are you talking about? I saw her this very morning and we went for a walk in the garden!” Salvadore snorted. “Liar.” “I’m not lying!” His brother jumped to his feet as if he wanted to attack him. But then he unclenched his hands and instead smiled at him coldly: “I visit her all the time. She just doesn’t want to be reminded of you because you’re useless and abnormal and annoying to her.” He turned around and – in leaving – knocked over a pile of books on his shelf. Irritated, and with a stinging pain in his chest, Salvadore left the room as well. – Only that he used the balcony instead, and its balustrades to climb up the roof. Cold wind tore at his shirt. He didn’t mind it. With a sigh, he stared into the clear, cloudless sky. He wanted to be alone, not bothered by anyone. In half an hour the maids would demand him to get ready. – Unless he decided not to be found.

[kn-1013]

i am NOT gonna let you forget this story takes place in the 90s.

[dujour13]

💎💎💎 Well then, Siavash's thoughts about Eneas?

When cornered Siavash is usually an expert at deflecting, but you catch him glance up guiltily as soon as the name is out of your mouth, and there’s no way he can hide the color that rises to his cheeks. He makes a good show of laughing it off but he’s been caught and he knows it. And he knows you know it.

“Three thoughts for three diamonds,” he says with exaggerated casualness, flipping a strand of hair from his face. “I can do that.”

“First thought. He plays the violin superbly.” A defiant grin. Are you going to make him elaborate? Delve into music theory?

You hold your ground. He must complete the thought.

“All right, fine. It’s warm, true, enchanting, terrifying. Like your soul is the strings and his bow makes it resonate…”

He trails off as if his tapered ear has caught a melody on the breeze only he can hear.

“All right, second thought. He’s fascinating.” That second thought seems to absorb him completely, and he’s elsewhere again for a moment. His eyes have gone dreamy. You are patient.

“Of course, that’s his talent. It seems too obvious. But I mean everything about him, not just the mask he happens to be showing the world. Underneath it—the core of him that he hides behind veil after veil—the golden tattoos and the pale scars. The depth of years stretching out behind him. The mystery of the places he’s been and the stories he tells. The secret longing in his heart—for freedom, for connection, for life.

“And in the center of it all is—" he stops himself. He will not entrust you with Eneas’ deepest secrets. “I’m fascinated. I can’t look away. I don’t want to look away.”

You make a note to ask how he knows about the tattoos and the scars, but that may put him on the defensive. You simply nod for him to continue.

“Third thought. Eneas is manipulative, sometimes even cruel, but he loves people more than anyone I’ve ever met, including me, and that’s saying something. The power of his enchantment emanates from his heart.

“He knows people. He loves what’s beautiful and what’s ugly and he sows their seeds, and he can coax blooms from all kinds. That’s his garden—people. He tends them, waters them, nourishes them, prunes them, twists their vines into elegant or terrible shapes, shines on them until they burst into flower of bright color or pale, monstrous blossom. And his favorite thing is to walk in his garden. He loves all of them.”

You can see Siavash steeling himself, drawing a steadying breath. “But that’s aesthetic love, not—not love love.” His voice falters.

He’s unable to meet your gaze anymore. He speaks barely above a whisper when he finally continues.

“That, he takes but he’s afraid to give. I think I know why but it still h—”

He squeezes his eyes shut and blinks to clear them. “It might heal him but it might also destroy him and I—I wouldn’t want that.”

He manages to transform a shaky breath into a laugh. There—he got through it. He’s smiling as much from relief as to hide the turmoil.

“I know you’ll report back to him. He has you on a string too.” He shrugs as he gets up to go. “I don’t mind.”

[schlock-luster-video]

On May 5, 1995, Clash of the Titans and Atlantis, The Lost Continent were screened as a double-feature on MonsterVision.

[troublewithvampires]

//decided to fill out one of those ship template memes with sal and his human boytoy <3 the bitch-ass hippie loser he's forever bonded with <3 using how old they are in modern verses, as opposed to how old they are when they first meet.

as a note, if you've seen me refer to a character named jason or billy, that's the same dude. his real name is jason booth but salvatore calls him 'billy whitebread' as a joke and at this point he's just accepted it. he uses both names just fine.

[bitsandbobcats]

I can’t believe I’ve been in the felinette corner of tumblr for so long and never drawn @sallertiacallidus Trickster!

[troublewithvampires-a]

//I FORGOT TO SHARE THIS ONE TOO. anyway @rejectshumanity <3

[devi-town]

You can and should commit grievous bodily harm on this man.

[petitecreme]

New Year Blessing!

Why go through the main entrance when you can sneak around back and hit up the Sisters instead for a quick new year blessing with a lil extra (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

[loroliyesplaything]

just three goobers in the night

Sal is having the time of his life to the right, Timmie is observing from the left, and Tarana is quietly enjoying the moment in the middle!

I'm gonna draw so very many beanbags adventures!!

[erstwhile-punk-guerito]

[spectra-bear]

Sharing this a tad bit late on tumblr, but a new chapter has been dropped for T&E~! the aftermath has arrived and all is well and swell :)

Be sure to drop a kudos and kind comment for my sal pal @apatheticrobots as always ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

[schlock-luster-video]

On May 3, 1961, Atlantis: The Lost Continent debuted in the United States.