#Deep Sea Python

[moviesandmania]

DEEP SEA PYTHON Giant snake monster movie - free to watch online

Deep Sea Python is a 2023 Chinese creature feature film about partygoers being attacked and devoured on an island by a giant snake. Directed by Wang Qing from a screenplay written by Zhang Lin. The Chinese production stars Wang Zhao, Ma Qianqian, Wang Yabin, Fang Ziyi, Li Zixiong, Lee Waise and Zhou Qinlin. Plot: Fisherman Chen Yue (Wang Zhao) is hired to sail a group of people, including…

[cauldron-burn-and-fire-bubble]

you know the funny thing about snayer is that i did deliberately take inspiration from quite a few animals for its design but not one of them was a snake

[oviraptoridae]

research & development is ongoing

since using jukebox for sampling material on albedo, i've been increasingly interested in ethically using ai as a tool to incorporate more into my own artwork. recently i've been experimenting with "commoncanvas", a stable diffusion model trained entirely on works in the creative commons. though i do not believe legality and ethics are equivalent, this provides me peace of mind that all of the training data was used consensually through the terms of the creative commons license. here's the paper on it for those who are curious! shoutout to @reachartwork for the inspiration & her informative posts about her process!

part 1: overview

i usually post finished works, so today i want to go more in depth & document the process of experimentation with a new medium. this is going to be a long and image-heavy post, most of it will be under the cut & i'll do my best to keep all the image descriptions concise.

for a point of reference, here is a digital collage i made a few weeks ago for the album i just released (shameless self promo), using photos from wikimedia commons and a render of a 3d model i made in blender:

and here are two images i made with the help of common canvas (though i did a lot of editing and post-processing, more on that process in a future post):

more about my process & findings under the cut, so this post doesn't get too long:

quick note for my setup: i am running this model locally on my own machine (rtx 3060, ubuntu 23.10), using the automatic1111 web ui. if you are on the same version of ubuntu as i am, note that you will probably have to build python 3.10.6 yourself (and be sure to use 'make altinstall' instead of 'make install' and change the line in the webui to use 'python3.10' instead of 'python3'. just mentioning this here because nobody else i could find had this exact problem and i had to figure it out myself)

part 2: initial exploration

all the images i'll be showing here are the raw outputs of the prompts given, with no retouching/regenerating/etc.

so: commoncanvas has 2 different types of models, the "C" and "NC" models, trained on their database of works under the CC Commercial and Non-Commercial licenses, respectively (i think the NC dataset also includes the commercial license works, but i may be wrong). the NC model is larger, but both have their unique strengths:

"a cat on the computer", "C" model

"a cat on the computer", "NC" model

they both take the same amount of time to generate (17 seconds for four 512x512 images on my 3060). if you're really looking for that early ai jank, go for the commercial model. one thing i really like about commoncanvas is that it's really good at reproducing the styles of photography i find most artistically compelling: photos taken by scientists and amateurs. (the following images will be described in the captions to avoid redundancy):

"grainy deep-sea rover photo of an octopus", "NC" model. note the motion blur on the marine snow, greenish lighting and harsh shadows here, like you see in photos taken by those rover submarines that scientists use to take photos of deep sea creatures (and less like ocean photography done for purely artistic reasons, which usually has better lighting and looks cleaner). the anatomy sucks, but the lighting and environment is perfect.

"beige computer on messy desk", "NC" model. the reflection of the flash on the screen, the reddish-brown wood, and the awkward angle and framing are all reminiscent of a photo taken by a forum user with a cheap digital camera in 2007.

so the noncommercial model is great for vernacular and scientific photography. what's the commercial model good for?

"blue dragon sitting on a stone by a river", "C" model. it's good for bad CGI dragons. whenever i request dragons of the commercial model, i either get things that look like photographs of toys/statues, or i get gamecube type CGI, and i love it.

here are two little green freaks i got while trying to refine a prompt to generate my fursona. (i never succeeded, and i forget the exact prompt i used). these look like spore creations and the background looks like a bryce render. i really don't know why there's so much bad cgi in the datasets and why the model loves going for cgi specifically for dragons, but it got me thinking...

"hollow tree in a magical forest, video game screenshot", "C" model

"knights in a dungeon, video game screenshot", "C" model

i love the dreamlike video game environments and strange CGI characters it produces-- it hits that specific era of video games that i grew up with super well.

part 3: use cases

if you've seen any of the visual art i've done to accompany my music projects, you know that i love making digital collages of surreal landscapes:

(this post is getting image heavy so i'll wrap up soon)

i'm interested in using this technology more, not as a replacement for my digital collage art, but along with it as just another tool in my toolbox. and of course...

... this isn't out of lack of skill to imagine or draw scifi/fantasy landscapes.

thank you for reading such a long post! i hope you got something out of this post; i think it's a good look into the "experimentation phase" of getting into a new medium. i'm not going into my post-processing / GIMP stuff in this post because it's already so long, but let me know if you want another post going into that!

good-faith discussion and questions are encouraged but i will disable comments if you don't behave yourselves. be kind to each other and keep it P.L.U.R.

[gomzdrawfr]

"call me when the tide turns, you'll see me at the docks."

Meet the OC, Operator B6 Artwork commissioned by Mawvax [tumblr, twitter]

General

Name: Surya Narumi, スルヤ・鳴海 Alias: B6, Susu, Naru Gender: Male Birthday: July 19th (not confirmed) Age: [redacted] (older than Raven) Sexuality: Demisexual Nationality: Indonesian-Japanese Close associate: Eira "Raven" Liu, Kyle Gaz Garrick (potential pairing) Affiliation: [redacted], Kopassus (Indonesian Special Forces), ASEAN SIN (ASEAN Secret Intelligence Network), Cobra PMC, [redacted] Speciality: Intelligence and Digital Espionage, Cyber Operations, Covert Operations, Covert Assassination, Long-Range Shooting Medical record: [redacted], heart surgery with possible implanted pacemaker, [redacted] Status: Alive (stable)

Appearance

Face claim: Takeshi Kaneshiro, with Roman nose and a mole below his left eye corner Hair: Dark Brown, Wavy/WolfCut sometimes tied up in a messy bun Eye color: Dark Green Skin tone: Deep tan Height: 182cm Build: Lean

References and Artwork

Artwork commissioned by Bressynonym [tumblr, twitter]

Associations and Favourites

Nature: oranges, purple Lilac, monstera, shine muscat, sunsets, sea, rain, stars

Color: orange, purple, light blue, sage green

Animals: black cat, Troides helena (Common Birdwing butterfly)

Owns: black munchkin tuxedo cat, snakes (past), bearded dragon (past), chameleon

Drinks: Genmaicha, Sparkling lavender lemonade, Chrysanthemum tea, Java black tea

Food: pisang goreng (fried bananas), cucuk udang (prawn fritters), mochi, meiji apollo strawberry chocolate candy, pocky

Does not smoke or drink alcohol

Relationship with Raven: grew up and worked together, protective and sibling-like, owes his life to Raven when he was saved from an unsanctioned op (despite Raven's insistence not to view the rescue to be that significant)

Behaviour: quiet, gentle, smiles that doesn't reach the eyes, carries himself lightly, polite but distant

Hobby: reads and writes, fishing, driving and exploring on his bike

Quotes and Words

"they called me many names...a survivor, a boy who defied death, mother's golden son, the lucky and the unlucky...but I like whatever the wind and sea calls me"

"My heart died once, fun fact. Well, okay, maybe it's not a fun fact."

"I wonder if there is a reason, that there is something big to all of these. But it's pointless to think about questions with no answers, it is what it is after all."

"I wish you a kinder sea, Python."

"FInd what you love and let it kill you." - Charles Bukowski

"I don't fear my own death, it is scheduled, it will happen...but yours? yours I fear."

"ah...you go by Raven now...? Was it the mat saleh...? I guess it suits you..."

"Can we have one more meaningless chat over oranges?"

[cowboyemeritus]

Cenerentola (Frater Imperator/Reader)

Summary: Copia hosts a gala to celebrate his ascension to head of the Clergy. When things go haywire, it's up to you to keep him safe. In the process, it becomes impossible to avoid your feelings for him any longer.

Content Warning: mild violence, a singular Monty Python reference

Notes: me? writing sfw? it's more likely than you think.

i've been doing a lot of social dancing so naturally that made me think about dancing with copia. i am also a sucker anything remotely cinderella-esque lol. reader is sort of based on an oc of mine.

i don't really know how i feel about this — i had ideas for two related scenes and then had to fill in the gaps from there. sorry it's so long lmao

feedback is always welcome :)

Even amidst the sea of people below, it is impossible for you to miss him. Copia shines like the Morningstar, the candlelight glinting off the ruby brooches and bedazzled collar of his new, freshly pressed suit. All eyes are on him as he spins the delighted young Sister of Sin in his arms, leading her with grace and elegance through the steps of the fast-paced waltz. He’s changed so much in the years since you left the Ministry. Now, with his ascension to head of the Clergy, there are moments where he seems like an entirely different person, exponentially more confident and self-assured than you remember. 

You know his new demeanor, however, betrays a deep-seated anxiety, the product of years of vague threats on his life from the organization he’s now expected to lead. And surely, the irony is not lost on him that the very hall in which he is now dancing sits directly above the crypts, where the bodies of his assassinated brothers lay in eternal repose.

From your position, leaning against a column up on the balcony, you have the entire ballroom in your sights. Every step, every gesture, every side conversation, is under your scrutiny. This was by design. Although Copia, by some miracle, lived to see the end of his reign as Papa, the transition of power has not been an easy one. Threats abound, the old guard of the Clergy still dissatisfied with him, many enraged by his recent promotion. His mother’s scheming was meant to protect him, but now it seems to have backfired, putting him in more danger than ever before. While this gala serves as a way for him to potentially smooth things over with the Upper Clergy, asserting himself as Frater Imperator, he is also making himself vulnerable, open to attacks of all kinds.

As a favor to his predecessor, the woman who taught you everything you know, you begrudgingly agreed to provide additional security around Ministry headquarters. At first, returning to the Abbey, its halls so hauntingly familiar, reminded you of why you left in the first place: decadence, hypocrisy, lies — a message lost in a quagmire of sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll. Somehow, though, Copia and his ghouls have wormed their way into your frozen heart over these last few months. It was done before you even knew it was happening. Copia has this sort of magnetism about him, some preternatural force that makes it impossible not to be charmed. It was like this even when he was a shy, awkward cardinal. Because of this, although the Clergy wants him gone, he has the distinct advantage of a congregation that completely adores him.

The song ends, and Copia sweeps the Sister into a dip. She giggles, pressing a playful kiss to his cheek. Something in your chest pangs.

At the end of the day, you just work together. It would be foolish of you expect anything more. Still, there’s been an undeniable tension between the two of you since your return to the Ministry. You see the way he looks at you, the way he hangs on to your every word when you speak. But maybe you’re imagining it — you spend so much time around him that perhaps you’ve mistaken proximity for fondness.

You sense a familiar, fiendish presence approaching from behind. “You’re having fun,” Cirrus remarks, entering your field of vision. She has a flute of champagne in each hand and offers one to you. To maintain the illusion of normalcy you accept, taking a small sip of the bubbly, golden liquid.

“We’re on the clock,” you say, eyeing a small group of cardinals that have congregated near the refreshments table. They seem to be merely gossiping. Rain is stationed nearby, carefully observing. “No fun allowed.” The ghoul chuckles, leaning against the balcony railing on her forearms.

“I take it everything’s alright so far?” You nod, thinking back on the hours you spent painstakingly drawing sigils at various locations around the Abbey, setting up one massive alarm spell. If anything supernatural tries to get in, you’ll know. All that’s left is to be on the lookout for any natural, more human threats. You swallow down a lump in your throat, hoping your preparations will be enough.

“Try to relax, then,” Cirrus coaxes, sipping her own drink. There’s a pause. “You should go dance with him.” You feel your cheeks heat up, but keep your composure.

“I don’t have time to mess around,” you state bluntly. Your posture sags a bit. “He’s busy, anyway.” Copia is leading another Sister onto the dance floor, taking the starting position as the ghoul band strikes up another tune. You zero in on the hand resting on her hip, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. It looks like her dress doesn’t have any pockets; the probability of her concealing anything is low.

Cirrus places a clawed hand on your shoulder and gives you a playful jostle. “For you? He’ll make time.” You give her a quizzical look and she winks, straightening back up before taking her leave. “Do it!” She calls. “I’ve got good money on you two getting together!” Your mouth hangs slightly agape, watching as she descends the stairs to rejoin the party.

You take another, longer sip of your champagne, relishing in the sensation of bubbles tickling your tongue. It helps take the edge off, if only a little. You remain up on your perch for another long while. Copia eventually abandons dancing in favor of strolling through the crowd, greeting and shaking hands with various high-profile guests. It’s harder to keep track of him this way, even from your vantage point, so once your glass is empty you descend the stairs, entering the fray for yourself. To your relief, no one pays you any mind as you weave through the mass of bodies. You spot a truly nameless ghoul carrying a tray of empty glassware and flag them down, depositing your glass. You’re about to find a better place to camp out when someone taps you on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, signorina strega.” You turn and sure enough, it’s Copia. He’s holding out a hand. “May I have this dance?” Multiple pairs of eyes are now focused on you. Swallowing hard, you flush, smiling nervously. It’s a little more attention than you’d like, but you reason that within arms reach of him is the best place to be right now.

It’s completely logical, not motivated by anything else.

“Of course, Frater Imperator,” you reply, bowing your head slightly. You make it a point to use his full title in front of the guests. “I would be honored.” Gingerly, you take his hand, and he leads you to the dance floor. You pick up your pace a bit so that you’re able to whisper in his ear. “I’m not very good.” Copia gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Do not worry. Just follow my lead.” As the last few bars of the current song play, Copia guides you into the starting position, placing his right hand delicately on your hip and holding the left out for you to take. You try not to think about how, even through the leather of his gloves, his hand is so warm. Having difficulty looking him in the eye, you glance over his shoulder in the brief moment of silence between songs. You see Cirrus, Rain, and Swiss gathered by the refreshments table, watching you with shit-eating grins plastered across their faces. The air ghoul flashes you a thumbs-up and you have to resist the urge to destroy her with your mind.

“Ready?” As if on cue, the band resumes playing. You recognize the song instantly: Waltz No. 2, Shostakovich. How woefully on brand. The dance begins, Copia stepping forward with his left foot while you, mirroring him, step back with the right. It’s easy enough to follow him after that, stepping to your left as he steps right, then forwards to start all over again.

“One, two, three. One, two, three. You’re a natural.” Once you find a steady rhythm, you’re able to look up from your feet and actually start to enjoy the feeling of whirling around the room.

“How are things?” He asks, clearly trying to remain nonchalant. There are so many eyes on you, and from the crowd you sense intrigue, amusement, and a significant amount of jealously.

“Fine, so far,” you reply through a smile, trying to make it as difficult as possible for people to read your lips. Copia nods.

“Bene.” A few beats pass. “Thank you for all your hard work. I appreciate you coming back after...” He looks away for a moment. “I appreciate it.” You didn’t do it for him and he knows that, but his expression of gratitude makes heat bloom in your chest nonetheless.

“I’m glad I did,” you say without thinking. “This place is different now. Good different, because of you.” Copia smiles, the skin around the corners of his eyes crinkling. He raises his left arm and you pass under it in a spin, feeling lighter than air.

“I had hoped you would be able to enjoy yourself tonight,” he admits, a hint of guilt in his eyes. “Instead it seems you are just fretting over me.” You quirk an eyebrow at him.

“It’s that ego of yours I’m worried about,” you tease. “Pretty soon there won’t be room for anyone else in this Ministry.” Both of you laugh at this.

“I had better check myself, then,” Copia says, running a hand through his mousy brown hair. “I would hate to see you leave again.” That catches you off guard and you nearly trip, but his hand finds your hip again, keeping you stable. By now, you’re certain he’s noticed the blush on your cheeks.

“Don’t worry. I’m not-“

Somewhere, an invisible thread snaps. It makes your stomach lurch, the color draining from your face. You pause, your playful expression melting away as you try to pinpoint the source of the disruption. The South Wing. It’s approaching fast. When you return to this plane Copia is looking at you with concern.

“I have to go,” you say quietly. He doesn’t have time to respond before you exit the dance floor, heading for the large double doors at the other end of the ballroom. It’s hard not to shove people out of the way as you duck and weave through the crowd. Dewdrop is at the entrance, minding his post, but as you approach it’s clear from the rigidity of his small body that he’s been waiting for you. He follows you wordlessly out into the hall. Kicking off your heels, the two of you take off in the direction of the intrusion. You internally curse your foolishness for talking yourself out of wearing sneakers, or even flats.

“It’s something nasty,” he says once you’re out of earshot of any guests. You can only nod in agreement, hoping the two of you are enough to deal with whatever this foul thing is.

You round the corner to the South Wing and stop dead in your tracks. The sight before you makes your blood run could. Charging towards you is a hulking creature, easily Mountain’s height but with Aether’s bulk. It’s clearly a humanoid figure, but its edges are poorly defined, a mist-like quality to them. Still, you observe shapes that resemble horns and a tail, and that tells you all you need to know: a rogue ghoul, not bound to this plane by a contract. As such, it’s less of a consolidated form and more of rampaging ball of fiendish energy. This information helps you narrow down the list of potential culprits exponentially.

There’s no time to dwell on that, though. The creature is headed straight for you, no doubt attracted to the smell of your human flesh. Before you can react, Dew puts himself between you and the ghoul, ready to engage. He’s strong in spite of his small size, but the odds of him defeating this massive a beast on his own, especially one this energized, are slim. You realize he’s buying you time to cast a spell, and immediately you formulate a plan in your head. It will take some time to accomplish, but if he can hold off this monstrosity for long enough, you should be able to successfully banish it back to the Pit without endangering him as well. Planting your feet, you take a deep breath, letting your eyes shut. There’s a whoosh of warm air as Dew charges the rogue ghoul. Energy begins to flow through you as you chant under your breath, crafting the spell. A metallic taste fills your mouth, the air crackling with static.

You’re about halfway through the incantation when the sound of a body hitting the floor breaks through your wall of concentration. The creature roars, forcing you to crack an eye open just in time to see it lunge at you. It’s covered in scratches and burns, but Dew is ultimately the one on the ground, desperately trying to pick himself back up. You’re only just able to side-step, the spell breaking as you focus all of your energy on surviving the next few seconds. You’re frantically backpedaling when it swipes at you, claws catching you in the side. You cry out as it tears through the flimsy red fabric of your dress, leaving three long gashes in its wake that begin bleeding immediately. Though profoundly painful it’s a superficial wound; if you had been stationary, there’s no doubt it would have disemboweled you. 

Your back hits the wall. Dew shouts your name but you just stand there, frozen. The creature is about to pin you when a large body slams into it from the side, knocking it to the ground. You immediately recognize the form as Aether, and looking in the direction from whence he came you see Cirrus, Swiss, Rain, Mountain, Sunshine, and Phantom, all approaching with teeth and claws bared. Cirrus gets to you first, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the scuffling ghouls.

“Are you-“ She finally notices you clutching your side, blood seeping into your dress. “Oh shit, are you okay?” You nod, lifting your hand to show her it’s minor. Phantom is helping Dew to his feet. He seems alright other than a few scratches, the fall appearing to have knocked the wind out of him more than anything.

“I’m fi-” Your heart nearly stops. “Is someone watching Imperator?”

“Cumulus and Aurora are with him,” she says. “They’ve got it under control.” You let out a relieved sigh, shoulders dropping. It’s only now you that you notice how much tension you’ve been holding in your body all night. Your body trembles with excess adrenaline.

Aether lets out a frustrated growl. You barely have time to look in his direction before the rogue ghoul, having slipped out of his grasp, hurls itself out of one of the long, gothic windows lining the hallway. Bits of stained glass go flying, scattering across the marble floor tiles. The creature is smart enough to recognize it’s been outnumbered. One-by-one the members of the pack leap through the broken portal, none of them too keen on letting the intruder escape. Dew tries to follow, clearly excited about the prospect of a hunt, but Cirrus shoos him away from the window.

“Go clean yourselves up,” she orders, perched on the ledge. It’s directed mostly at you. “We’ll take it from here.” With that, she jumps down, disappearing from view as the sound of the pack whooping and howling fades into the distance.

Twenty some-odd minutes and a round of healing magick later, you and Dew are sitting out on the steps of the back patio, passing a cigarette back-and-forth. By now, the rogue ghoul has most certainly been torn to ribbons. There could still be threats lurking, but for as much as you’d like to go find Copia, you’re nowhere near presentable and would prefer not to incite panic, or suspicion, among the guests. Besides, you’re hardly capable of doing anything now, your energy completely drained by the evening’s events. You only had enough juice left to stop your cuts from bleeding; anything physically strenuous would certainly reopen the wounds. For now, you’re content to enjoy the cool autumn air, knowing he’s in capable hands.

“There you are.” Speak of the Devil. You look over your shoulder and Copia is stepping out into night, flanked by Cumulus and Aurora. Clutched in one hand are your strappy red heels, and it’s only now that you realize you’re still barefoot. Dew, with a quiet groan, rises to his feet and climbs the stairs, passing Copia as he descends.

“We’re going to go take care of this one,” Cumulus says, draping an arm over the fire ghoul’s shoulder. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but for a moment you swear she winks at you. Dew tries to shrug her off with a huff, and the girls giggle. Copia nods approvingly.

“Thank you, miei cari. We will debrief in the morning.” The three ghouls turn and step back inside, leaving you and Copia on the stairs. Your heart beats a little faster with the realization that you two are alone, although you tell yourself it’s because you won’t be able to defend him in this state. There’s definitely no other reason.

“Your glass slippers, my lady.” You roll your eyes and reach out to take your shoes from Copia, but he refuses to hand them over, kneeling on the stair below you. “Allow me, per favore.”

This might as well be happening. Lifting your foot up, you grant him permission to assist you. Copia slides the first shoe back on, holding your calf with one hand. Again, you can’t help but notice how warm and gentle his touch is. 

“I’m sorry for running off,” you say, needing to break the silence. “I hope you didn’t think that-“

“Not at all. I figured that something was, eh, ‘going down.’” When he looks up he finally notices the gashes in your side. He hisses, wincing. “Ahia! That looks like it hurts.”

You wave him off. “’Tis but a scratch.” He looks like he’s going to protest, clearly upset, but instead opts to tighten the strap of your shoe before moving on to the next foot.

“What happened?” He asks, starting the process over again.

“Rogue ghoul,” you explain, looking out into the forest at the edge of the lawn. “Likely the work of Cardinal Ambrosius. He’s gotten in trouble for trying to make contracts before. Doesn’t look like he’s quite figured it out, though. I can have his head on your desk by Monday morning, if you’d like.” 

Copia laughs through his nose. “You are absolutely vicious, mia strega.”

You shrug. “Just doing my job.” Once Copia finishes with your other shoe he stands, offering you his hand.

“Walk with me?” 

You give him a hesitant look. “I don’t want to keep you from your guests.” He scoffs.

“I have had enough of those two-faced pricks for one night. A lifetime, even.” His expression softens. “But if you are not up for it, I-“

“No!” You shoot up, taking his hand. It startles him a little bit. “I’m good. Let’s go.” Copia smiles, the moonlight sparkling in his eyes. Like an obedient  lamb, you let him lead you down the rest of the stairs and across the patio to where a walkway wraps around the side of the building. He’s taking you to the gardens, it seems. Though your legs feel like jelly, the walk isn’t very long, which you’re thankful for.

The gardens aren’t really a sight to behold this time of year, but the full moon bathes everything in a mesmerizing blue glow, giving the space a dreamlike quality. The ballroom is just up another set of stairs, the music still audible where you emerge. You stop by the fountain, a marble visage of Lilith pouring water from a bottomless goblet. The water is still running, providing a little extra ambiance.

“Care to dance?” Copia asks. “We were so tragically interrupted before.”

“I…” Damn you and your nerves. You’re blushing again. “I don’t want to get blood all over you.”

Still, he persists, shrugging. “It’s a black suit.” It’s hard to say no to that face, but the McQueen jacket? Really? He gives you a pleading look and your resolve instantly crumbles.

“Alright.” It’s all but a whisper. “But go easy on me.”

You don’t wait for the next song to start, you simply get in position and go from there. It’s slower than what you danced to before, and you two end up just swaying to the rhythm rather than following any steps. That’s fine with you, your legs are still shaking, though you can’t tell if it’s from exertion or something else entirely.

“You look beautiful,” Copia says after a few measures. In that time you two have drifted closer together, only a few inches between you now. It’s hard to look him in the eyes when your face is so embarrassingly red, so you choose to stare at the ground.

“I’m a mess.” You laugh, but there’s something bitter in it as your eyes wander to your soiled dress, torn and bloody. There was a silly, naive part of you that had been thinking of Copia when you selected it for this evening. He stops swaying, a hand finding your chin and gently lifting your head. In your opinion, he’s the beautiful one, practically glowing in the moonlight. 

“Nonsense. You are the fairest of them all, cara.” You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth draw up into a slight smile.

“You’re getting your fairytales mixed up.” The two of you share a laugh before dissolving into a few moments of comfortable silence. You can tell he’s thinking about something, and he looks away, clearly nervous.

“Did you mean what you said about coming back?” The question catches you off guard for a second.

“I did,” you finally respond. “I really did. This place feels like home again.” Swallowing, you decide to take a bit of a leap. “Did you mean what you said, about me leaving?” You haven’t discussed it in a long time, but when you first took the job, the understanding was that this was only a temporary arrangement, lasting at least until Copia was able to settle into his new position. The notion pains you now. He nods.

“Yes. I-“ He chuckles. “I cannot stand the thought. Signorina strega, say that you will stay with us, with me.”

You don’t even need to think about it. “I will. Of course I will.” Copia beams, and the sight is breathtaking. There’s another pause, the air between you charged with an energy more powerful than magick. In the ballroom, the final notes of the song ring out, though you hardly notice. A bomb could go off next to you, but even that wouldn’t be enough to pull you out of this moment.

“Beautiful…” You don’t protest when he cups your flushed cheek, running his thumb across the bone. “May I kiss you?” It takes everything you have to not melt into a puddle.

“Please.”

And then his lips — Sathanas, they’re soft —  are on yours. Stars explode behind your eyes as he presses into you, the hand on your hip to pulling you in closer. His body is so warm against you; it feels so right. Your heart is racing, head spinning, as the euphoria overtakes you. 

He kisses you until you’re both out of breath. When he finally pulls away, you want to chase after him, to kiss him until your lips fall off, but then your knees buckle. Copia is just barely able to catch you, letting out a surprised little noise you can’t help but find adorable. He seems less concerned when he sees you’re grinning like an idiot.

“Alas, I have killed her!” You both laugh as he helps you regain your balance. “Why don’t we sit down?” Humming in agreement, he leads you over to the fountain, sitting you down on the edge. He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. “Are you sure you are alright?”

“Just peachy,” you say, gazing at your intertwined hands. “It’s been a long night.” Feeling bold and still a bit woozy, you bring Copia’s hand to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. 

“Ah, young love.” You both jolt, heads snapping in the direction of the voice. Before you stand the glowing specters of Papa Nihil and Sister Imperator. The old man has a wistful, nostalgic look on his face, while your former teacher observes with her arms crossed. How long have they been watching you? “Just like we once were, don’t you think?” Imperator huffs.

“I sure hope not.” Her focus falls on you. The wrath in her translucent blue yes makes your blood freeze. “You think you’re good enough for my son, girl?” For a moment, you’re completely speechless.

“I-“

“Are you two serious right now,” Copia shouts. “Get out of here! Go on! Get!” He gets up from the fountain to shoo them away. Imperator gives you a pointed look before dissolving into a blue mist. Her message is clear: this isn’t over. You gulp.

Copia groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I cannot believe those two. I finally get to have my moment with you, and then they go and spoil it!” He flops back down next to you, sighing. “I am sorry, bella. I understand if-“

“Forget about it,” you say, holding up your hand to silence him. “Just kiss me, like, forever.”

Copia happily obliges.

[comicaurora]

Have you ever notices the weird trait that a lot of the mytic Greek monsters are decendents, or otherwise related to posiden (all sea beasts, cyclops, medusa, minotaur ect) were mostly slain by children of zeus? The rest of the mytic Greek hero's mostly slayed children of typhon and echidna.

Do you think this is somthing to do with the fact that posiden used to the ruler of mychnain pantheon, and zuse took over, so the mytology reflected this by having posiden monster children slain by the heroic children of zeus?

Have you ever noticed any similar patters in mythology involving the chainge of the dominat god?

It's hard to say! The Mycenaean pantheon is very poorly understood since we don't have anything like the corpus of literature we have from Archaic Greece, and as far as I can tell it's mostly been reconstructed from ledgers and the equivalent of receipts - this many jars of stuff to the temple of this god in this region, etc etc. And the idea that Poseidon was central - while apparently widely accepted - doesn't really tell us how Poseidon was characterized back in those days, or how (or if) things shifted to be Zeus-centric later on.

And in the broad scale, it's hard to know for sure if a pantheon's myths reflect an actual shift in what the dominant/central god being worshipped was, or if something else was going on. Mythology rarely maps one-to-one to the historical events it was running in parallel to. There are lots of mythologies with god wars or former leaders of the gods being replaced - Tyr with Odin, Nuada with Lugh, Ra getting merged with a half-dozen different gods to give them his oomph and authority at various times - and it's not clear when a god conflict reflects a real religious shift in who's being worshipped and when it's something else. For instance, classical Greek mythology has loads of themes of sons usurping fathers, starting with Kronos usurping Ouranos and followed by Zeus usurping Kronos - but it doesn't seem like Kronos was historically worshipped in the time before Zeus or anything that simple and clean. Kronos doesn't seem to pre-exist that space of mythology at all.

However, there are tidbits in Greek mythology where a god kills a monster and takes up residence in their place of power, like Apollo killing Python - a monstrous child of Gaia that seems to have potentially been actually worshipped for oracular reasons before Apollo showed up and took over, which would make it a mythical parallel to a real shift in local religious practices. Although again, that is very hard to confirm (and some of the researchers who think that seem to wanna believe it because it very conveniently lets them tie it in with the bible)

this kind of thing is why the deep-dives are my favorite kind of nightmare to subject myself to

So it's hard to say if a myth of a conflict between gods reflects a real-world conflict between religious practices, but all that said, that is a very interesting pattern to note - that Poseidon is more consistently a father of monsters, while Zeus is almost universally a father of heroes.

[lenoide]

Season of Love (7/?)

+18 | Toto x reader fem!teamprincipal, romance, comedy, and some good drama.

Summary: One night on a pier in Monaco, while admiring the sea under the night skies, you tell Toto: "I came to the conclusion that love is simply not meant for me." That's the answer to a question you have been asking yourself for the longest time. But what if he proved you wrong? Author's note: This is a multichapter Toto Wolff x team principal reader fic set along a season of F1. It's a very immersive story full of drivers, team dynamics, races, mystery, and smut. You just bought the Williams team, but nobody really knows who you truly are.

< Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

The Color of Truth is Blue Arc Chapter 7: Red flagsss

Italy

You stay off-the-grid that entire weekend to everyone's concerns. 

Your phone remains turned off and forgotten on the sofa at Seb's place, kilometers away from you now, as he takes you on a sudden road trip through the Italian Riviera in his 1995 classic blue Citroën DS19. 

Knowing the beautiful scenery and brief stops at the Mediterranean towns' gorgeous tourist sites would keep your mind from hurtful thoughts.

And, boy, he was right. 

Your mood gets less somber as you two enjoy your gelatos while peacefully walking the Giardini Botanici Hanbury, feeling the fresh breeze from the trees on your skin and hearing the birds chirping around you.

It turns out Seb is full of great love and life advice. He sounds so mature and open about it that it seems new and shocking to you.

How can someone love so freely and so fearlessly?

-

Seb watches you sigh as you finish packing the clothes you bought and wore during the weekend in your also new suitcase since touring Italy in his clothes seemed like something other than a fit for your aesthetics and ego. 

Still, you chose to wear his vintage Monty Python t-shirt with mom jeans for the flight back, as you loved the graphic, its colors, and the fact that it fits you a bit oversized and comfy. It made you feel safe.

—Everything will be fine —he expresses.

—I know —you look at Seb and give him a shy smile, only if he knew.

—Ready, then? —he holds open the door for you.

—More than ever —you answer, and you are.

-

Hungary

Much to your poor nerves, the Hungary Grand Prix week is finally here.

And you need to meet Pascal on the outskirts of town so he can deliver you the device.

That nervous sensation in your stomach grows as the chauffeur/gunman drives you closer to the meeting point, which is inside the third floor of a decadent and abandoned old building from the socialist era.

It's been more than a decade since last you saw him in person, as he was getting violently pinned down to the floor and dragged away by a SWAT team as you screamed.

His piercing blue eyes and his handsome face were covered in blood coming from a deep wound over his eyebrow from the contact of a fist punch as he whispered a soft and reassuring "I will be fine; you will be fine." 

That memory was forever tattooed in your brain, sometimes making you wake up with a cold sweat at night.

As you finish climbing the narrow swirl stairs that once may have been stunning, you open the enormous, washed-down, and scratched-wood double doors. They creak so loud, making the place echo, as the tall, muscular figure of a man looking out of an open, broken window turns your way, following the sound.

Your heart skips at the sight of him; you guess those feelings never truly disappeared. 

He watches you approach him with the same expression as your heels clack loudly on the dirty, now opaque, tiled floor. 

You rush your pace in the last couple of remaining steps. Reaching closer to Pascal's figure, a smile forms on his lips, expecting you to throw yourself into his arms. 

But as you are millimeters away from his body, you slap him so hard, making his head turn. His lip bleeds a little bit from the contact before sinking into his neck as he pulls you in a really tight hug above the ground; your hand caresses his hair and cheek as you lay your foreheads in one another.

—It's great to see you, kid. We don't have much time —Pascal tells you as he places you back to the ground and points to the ankle monitor on his calf with a blinking light. —Inside this is the tracker; follow the protocol precisely as we practiced it, and everything will be alright. You are so brave —he hands you a green Hermes bag. —Go.

You want to talk to him more, say more, and let him know all that happened in your life after him and thanks to him, but he rushes you to leave, not wanting to expose you more than necessary, and for you to return to safety.

You slide your hand down his arm and squeeze his hand as you walk away, letting it go only when he gets out of your reach.

-

The weather at the track gets damn awful, umbrellas everywhere, grey skies, and all lights on, even if it's really early.

The free practice is a complete mess, thanks to the various puddles and Logan's car pinballing around.

Sam looks extremely uneasy that day under the stern scrutiny from Toto.

—Stop it. You are making me uneasy, too. What's with you? —he asks as Sam nervously moves around.

—Nothing, I don't want Lewis to crash or George to get hurt. That thing with Logan was awful —she lies quickly, as paramedics had to help him out of the car while many "ouchs" from the crowd were exchanged as he wasn't walking alright. 

Toto looks at her with a deadly "Please, I'm not stupid" look.

But he lets it go before he overhears; Niki asks her directly as she reaches him. —Have you heard from her?

Sam knows exactly to whom (you) he is referring. —No.

And that's what makes her more nervous than anything. "Please, be ready," she thinks.

Toto raises an eyebrow at the interaction. Is something going on?!

-

You decide to show up until qualy. 

You walk around the paddock and pitline as if following a path, but this is only noticeable if someone is paying you lots of attention, which Charles is.

He catches your step in the middle, distracting you; you cut him as he opens his mouth to say something.

—Not now, later —you look so authoritarian he doesn't protest. —I need to focus. Do you get it? —now you mutter to him, low.

He nods. —Take care, please —is all he says, and he walks away. He is not able to talk to you about what happened at the Gala and about all Seb told him; he only told him the bits Seb knew weren't to be kept.

Toto is there, too, observing your every move. The more he looks and follows you, the weirder it gets.

Judging by the expression you and Charles shared, how nerve-wracking Sam is acting, and how quiet Niki is, there is no way something isn't happening.

Could it be the aftermath of what happened at the Gala? To which he is the one to blame for.

-

Toto waits for the perfect moment to confront Sam. After the practice ends and everyone moves to the hospitality and headquarters, he notices the blond walking down the corridor of his office in the direction of Niki's. He quickly gets on his feet and follows her around. Sam notices and rushes her pace.

Out of nowhere, he pushes Sam softly against the wall to make her stop. —What's going on? Don't dare to lie to me —he looks dead concerned about it, borderline paranoid.

—It's not my place to tell you —she sadly replies and pushes him away too, roughly, knowing the last time she said those words, she ended up hurting a friend. —Don't push it! It won't work! My lips are sealed —she warns him as she fixes her shirt and returns to work.

—I know I fucked it up —Toto lets out, looking at Samanta's back as she faces the door down the hall as he leans one of his hands on the wall.

Fuck, he sounds so sad, almost wounded. Sam closes her eyes, feeling awful, before taking a step and walking away in total silence.

-

It's the eve of the Hungarian Grand Prix, and the paddock is abuzz with excitement and anticipation.

It's regular business with teams preparing their cars and mechanics working tirelessly to ensure every engine is revving if it wasn't for the extreme security present this time.

There are not-so-discreet gunmen in different places, catching the attention of some guests and team members.

Fans gather at the circuit, voices rising in cheers. The energy is palpable as everyone eagerly awaits the engines' roar and the tires' screech on the track.

This time, The Hungarian Grand Prix is more than just a race; today, it welcomes a peculiar, to say the least, special guest to participate in the opening ceremony: one political candidate, desperate to be in the spotlight and under the cameras, seizing the opportunity with the upcoming election just weeks from today.

It has been almost a year since your intelligence team confirmed to you that the juicy donations from Hungarian and Serbian accounts addressed to the FIA/F1 were the single most crucial lead to the man you have been hunting for years and years: Jószef Lenkov.

Lenkov had planned to tour the paddock on foot before arriving at the pit lane to participate in the committee during the country's anthem ceremony.

It's your only opportunity in decades to approach him, and you can't miss it. Your entire team and life depend on it; it's personal.

-

You feel sick to your stomach as you watch Lenkov and his entire entourage arrive. After all these years, he is there, in person, just meters away from you, as in one of your nightmares; there he is, the reason behind all the suffering in your life and the ones you love.

Even if you now have a different name and aspect and are being protected and monitored, a lingering fear is still deep in you. 

You were just a child the last time you saw him.

God, how much you despise that man, how much you want to succeed in bringing him down, how much you want him gone for good.

-

You start casually walking closer and around them, near the distance but not enough to be noticed by all those guards protecting him. 

You follow the path that you rehearsed thousands of times. 

Everything goes according to plan until you make it to the pitlane on the final and most crucial move.

-

In a matter of seconds, your vision gets all blurry. 

Your ear makes an awful whistling sound, and you feel stabs of pure pain on your right forearm, the one you just got up by instinct to protect you from smashing directly into the glass, which shatters enough to hurt you as you get pushed to the side against the glass barrier where Rolex had an interactive advertising booth for those with a VIP access.

Everyone near you watches the scene in genuine shock as one of the brutal security assholes of Lenkov forces you away from him. 

As you approach the older man from behind, you are able to place your hands on his shoulder and just above his jacket pocket inside that entourage of suited security men as he waves the crowds of militants in the stands supporting him. 

Lewis watches, shocked at how little you react to such a violent punch. There is almost no expression in response from you, no wincing, which raises all his alarms. 

Samanta tries her best to look as surprised as the rest, and thank God Toto next to her is fuming with rage that doesn't pay her any attention. 

Since yesterday, he has been suspicious that something is going on and has followed her closely the entire day, too, so she has remained as far from you as possible.

A lot happens around you as you recover; Lenkov doesn't even bother to turn around or give his attention to the commotion as he gets rushed away from the scene by his team of gorillas guarding him.

Your blood starts spilling everywhere on the pitlane concrete floor; it seems and feels like a deep cut on the forearm. 

FIA security holds the violent bodyguard and escorts him out, and aid comes your way. 

You compose yourself reasonably quickly. 

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice your entire team of mechanics and drivers moving towards the guy with killer instincts since everything is happening barely a meter away from your garage entry.

—Anyone who dares to move an inch gets out of this team —you warn them in such a dangerous, deep voice. Something no one has witnessed you do before. 

Millie looks at you as you have transformed into someone else, like something buried inside you has come out.

No one dares to move. 

You rush to grab one of the mechanics' jackets and tighten it around your arm, trying to stop the bleeding. Paramedics arrive as fast as possible and start working on your nasty wound. 

Once inside the ambulance, you instruct them to take you straight to your hotel room against their will; you let them know it's an order, not an option.

You catch a glimpse of Pascal among the crowds near the pit stop. Now, he knows you have accomplished the job because of the smile you give him through the open door of the ambulance, like a lioness before eating her sleep prey.

-

After getting some provisional stitches and a fresh bandage, you arrive at the Corinthia Hotel. 

The white gauze gets redder with every step you take. Still, you hide it well behind the space thermal blanket the paramedics give you, walking as fast as possible, trying to avoid grabbing the attention of the guests in the hotel on your way to your destination. 

Drops of blood are on your expensive pink glaze tweed Valentino dress. 

You knock on the room you got instructed to, using the signal number of knocks your team told you to. 

You quickly enter the large double room once they open the door for you. The curtains are closed, and the lights are on. A team of six guys on computers with tons of cables and some devices wrapped in foil, along with a couple of gunned men, greet you. 

An exceedingly handsome, fit man in an expensive Armani power suit sits on the couch, legs crossed, with a drink in his hand. 

He turns to talk to you. —We got signal! Now we can trace him —he informs you; he notices you are hurt and instantly gets concerned, and his fierce eyes softened.

Everyone claps as you collapse next to him on the couch. He grabs your once again bloody hand and comes close to kneel in front of you, sharing an intimate moment as tears run down your cheeks, not knowing if it was the emotion of the moment or the pain provoking them.

—You succeeded! I'm so proud of you —Matt rubs a finger on your bruised knuckles and softly kisses them —The tracker you placed on Lenkov will lead us to his current quarters. I will take it from here.

You nod, exhausted.

—You are done more than enough; now I have to play my part —he informs you.

—What?! —you let out as your heart skips.

—If I don't cause a scene, it will raise questions.

—Wait, Matt, it's unnecessary! I don't think they notice; the FIA aren't exceptionally bright...

—You just got slaughtered in our team garage, and you think it is not necessary? —he looks at you with an exasperated face.

—You don't need to show up! I can handle this! I don't require you to intervene! —you enter complete panic mode; you need more time and want more time.

—What you need is a surgeon; that cut seems deep, but they will take you to the hospital now. I will meet you there after visiting the pitlane —Matt ends the conversation right there, his beautiful clear blue eyes looking authoritarian at you.

—Matthew, no, wait! —you know it is impossible to make that man change his mind; once he makes a decision, it gets done. You all live in a world that is his. You know how erratic, spoiled, and unreliable he is. 

There it is, the control freak from which you ran away.

Your limbs get cold as you have this conversation, and moving causes you so much pain now, so you let your case rest, knowing there's nothing else you can do. 

More tears run down your face, but not caused by the wound; it is your heart bleeding.

-

Samanta watches Matthew walk past the Mercedes garage's front like she is seeing a walking ghost. 

He looks gorgeous, with perfect hair, on-point clothes, and swaggy steps, but this time, he has a lethal gaze. 

He tilts his head and looks straight at her for a second. Sensing her eyes on him, Matt subtely smirks at Sam and keeps going.

Sam stays still, watching, knowing everything is about to change.

—All good? —Lewis asks her, concerned, witnessing the interaction.

—Yes, I'm just shocked and worried about what happened! I hope she's doing okay!

—We all do —Niki joins the conversation, looking somber, hands in his pockets. Then, he softly whispers to Sam. —I hope she succeeded.

—Me too —Sam answers, knowing that he knows.

Toto is quiet and reflective in his chair, far from them. Sam does everything possible not to cross his sight and avoids him the rest of the night. 

He has many questions and needs your answers.

If you ever want to talk to him ever.

He prays God you do.

That you still want him.

-

Matthew arrives at the gruesome scene with a group of lawyers, who carry cameras and tablets and start taking pictures and collecting testimonials. 

Of course, it is all pretend; your team is about to control the narrative of the events: "It was a non-related security brokerage" is about to fill social media, bots, press, and TV. 

The FIA is about to be blamed for having weak security protocols for its people.

Matt is not pleased to see your blood spread all over the pitstop's concrete floors. He feels murderous inside, and he looks like it. 

He notices many curious eyes set on him, but he is used to it; a man with his appearance always draws attention anyway.

Schumi walks to him. —Hi, Mr. De Vos. Is Y/N okay, boss?!

—I just got informed she is at the hospital right now getting surgery. I will be by her side soon. I needed to see it first with my own eyes. I can't believe this! —fuck he sounds pissed looking at the "crime scene."

-

The next day, the stewards were going nuts trying to manage the entire situation, and the busy FIA scheduled a meeting to discuss the violent events with all the astonished team principals. 

To reassure them that they were handling the situation and that there was no need for anyone not to feel safe, and to say: "It won't happen again, we swear."

—I didn't know Ken existed in real life! —Otmar jokes under his breath with Mattia and Fred as they all watch Matthew having a call on the other side of the clear glass panel walls outside the meeting room.

All TPs are gathered in a vacant and enormous room, along with some team owners, waiting for Massi to arrive and discuss the gruesome circumstances of the night before.

Matthew enters the room, grabbing everyone's attention and provoking a "Who is this guy?" face on the men inside. 

His blonde lawyer waits for him outside just by the door; they both look busy. 

That blonde guy looks familiar to Toto. Oh, yeah! It's Sam's brother.

Matthew joins the circle of chairs. —Couldn't they get cheaper ones? —he jokes as the thing squeaks with his weight. He is very muscular but lean, like a model.

Everyone laughs, agreeing.

—We look like we are about to take fucking therapy —Gunther colorfully adds.

Horner chuckles at his comment. 

—My name is Zack, and I'm addicted to speed —he teases.

—Hi, Zack! —three of them answer in unison.

—I'm Christian. I'm addicted to winning —Horner jokes, too.

—Mr. Lauda —Matthew greets him, standing to receive a hug from the older man as he joins the group. 

—Oh, so handsome as ever! —Niki comments on Matt's good looks and pats his face. Matt doesn't seem bothered by it; he has quite an authoritarian presence and a stern face that could spam from the sweetest thing to a serial killer within seconds, but he smiles at Niki.

—How is she? —Niki asks, concerned for your well-being.

—She went through reconstructive surgery, which took five hours. The glass cut tendons and nerves, so she needs to take therapy to get her movement back. She can't feel pressure or heat on her fingers and has minimal movement on her entire arm.

—Yeah, all sense gets gone for a good couple of weeks —Niki states. He knows the procedures well; he went through some after his crash. —I'm calling her to advise her on how to deal with it; it gets frustrating.

—That would be fantastic. Y/N will very much appreciate your supporting words; she is still shaken by all that has happened.

—And what happened exactly? —Mattia inserts himself in their conversation. Matthew turns to him with a cold expression, a mixture of "you aren't part of this conversation" and "I don't have anything to explain to you." 

—According to the FIA, it was just a simple "accident," but my team differs —Matthew answers him with sarcasm and deadpan.

Toto already dislikes Matt. He acts arrogant and entitled. Niki sits beside him, and Massi rushes in, followed by a group of stewards and his assistants.

—Apologies, it's been crazy! Oh! Mr. De Vos, thank you for joining us!

"Mr. De Vos?!" Toto's expression changes from annoyed to surprised as he stares for the first time straight at him, to which Matthew holds his look.

Matt instantly switches personalities as Massi addresses him. His pose goes from relaxed on his chair to dangerous, with one leg resting on his knee. His eyes look harsh, like a wolf about to bite the lamb's neck.

—This can't happen again —he says in the most authoritarian voice, with no greeting. Massi's eyes widen. —This wasn't an accident; it was incompetence from your security, your organization, and yours —Matthew destroys him. 

He knows playing with your food is not polite, but he isn't the most successful man in his type of business by being kind or soft. —Bring your PR team. I need to have a word with them —Matt continues.

Massi looks at him, alarmed, but nods, agreeing.

—Now —Matt slowly and softly finishes saying.

Massi nods again and quickly goes out of the room.

—Can we hire you? —Stroll asks Matt in awe.

—You don't have that kind of money —he jokes back.

"Yes, he is insufferable," Toto thinks.

-

After an extensive meeting, Matthew gives the FIA two months to develop a new and better security protocol, or they will sue.

-

After receiving many concerned texts and "I hope you get better soon" mentions, you finally replied in the group chat: "I now have a bionic forearm, but it doesn't shoot lasers. Bummer!"

"I have something in my body that shoots too, but neither is my arm nor are lasers," Lando jokes.

Everyone laughs.

-

During the break that the Mercedes team takes to lunch, Sam visits you at the hospital, and she takes you tons of gifts. She is the only one who is allowed to visit you or knows your location.

Among the gifts is a letter from Toto that you don't dare to open.

-

After returning from the hospital, Sam joins the girl squad for a much-needed chat.

—He looks fake! It's like the Greeks marbled him —Millie says, checking out Matthew while he talks with a man obstructed by a poster with Sam, Angela, and Brigita beside her.

—He is so handsome! That's some cute, firm bubble booty —Angela lusts for him.

—And you haven't seen him without a shirt; he has abs for days —Sam informs them.

—One can only imagine —Brigita whispers.

Matthew is chatting with Alexi, Sam's brother, behind the sign, obstructing Millie's view until he moves. 

As soon as she notices Alexi, she hugs and greets him. —Uncle! —she lets out, throwing herself into his arms, excited as they embrace each other. 

Sam joins them against her will. —How lovely! A family reunion, yikes! —she says sarcastically, pretending to hate the thing.

They all candidly talk till Niki and Toto reach them.

—You don't remember Matthew?! Really? Are you sure?! —Alexi looks incredulous at Millie as he asks her. 

She denies fiercely with her head.

—But he has been invited to many family gatherings!

—Nope! —Millie then gestures at Matt's body with her hand. —If I had seen this, I would remember it, believe me! —then she turns to him, a bit red on the cheeks. —With all due respect —she adds, and Matthew shrugs, amused.

—Don't boost his ego, please. It's already enormous —Sam rolls her eyes at them.

—No worries! —Alexi addresses his niece. —He is so used to this; a girl once fainted before him. No joking; it happened during our college years. You were so popular with the girls —then turns to face Matthew. —Y/N was the most envied girl on campus —Alexi finishes saying and then looks at the two men now joining them.

—You must be Sam's brother —Toto extends a hand to him, to Niki's right. 

 —Yes, I am! I have heard so much of you —he says as they shake hands. Alexi looks very friendly and chatty, utterly different from Sam and Matt. It could be more like Millie's genes; maybe it's that part of his family.

—I hope nice things! —Toto jokes.

—Apparently, this gremlin is fond of you —he smirks at a now embarrassed Sam at the revelation.

Alexi is Matthew's lawyer. They have been friends since childhood, since the womb as their families have been close for centuries. Yes, centuries, big old-timey money with insulting fortunes, the kind of money that would make someone sick.

They both studied law at Cambridge at the same time.

Alexi then quickly adds. —You haven't been introduced to each other, right? Matthew, this is Toto Wol..

—I know —Matt cuts him. —We just saw each other at the meeting. 

None of them moves an inch to greet the other. An awkward tension is palpable.

—Oh, well, then. Anyway, this "knows it all" is Matthew De Vos, owner of the Williams team and Y/N's husband.

"Y/N'S HUSBAND! WHAT THE FUUUU-!" Toto struggles to play it cool.

To be continued... < Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter > - A new arc is here with lots to unpack and reveal! Finally, we are getting to more know about her! I hope you liked this chapter, but prepare for what comes next! Read you soon <3

[my-name-is-apollo]

On the shrine of Apollo at Delphi:

Between the bounds of east and west, the twin peaks of Parnassus tower to the heavens. The mountain is sacred to Apollo and Dionysus, in whose honour the Theban Bacchantes, honouring the two deities as one, hold their triennial festival there, at Delphi. When the Flood drowned the Earth, this mountain alone rose above the waves, and was all that parted sea from sky. Parnassus’ peaks were differentiated even so by the waters, one rocky summit on display the other one submerged. There Apollo, his skills as yet un-honed, killed the Python with his arrows, avenging his mother who had been driven out when pregnant. Themis once ruled that shrine and oracle. Thus Apollo, hearing the deep chasm in the earth breathe out divine truth, exhale prophetic words, enshrined himself in the sacred cavern, brooded over the sanctuary, and there became prophetic.

- Lucan, Pharsalia (Trans. A. S. Kline)

!!! Apollo Dionysus joint worship mentioned !!!

[twoidiotwriters1]

The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: This is another chapter I was looking forward to post! -Danny Words: 2,549 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'Eight' -by Sleeping At Last

XXXI: I Would Fight Myself if I Could

Percy is on the steps to Cabin Ten waiting for me. Lily and Nico share a look and mumble something about the Big House before turning away. My brother stares at me, and a small smile shows up on his face.

"Purple's definitely your color."

I grin. "You really know how to cheer an Aphrodite up." I pause and reform my sentence. "Former Aphrodite."

He doesn't get up from the steps. "You know when we went to the sea of monsters? When Hermes gave me those gifts?"

"Yeah?"

"I tried to give 'em back at first because he wanted me to help Luke. I told him Luke was a lost cause, he hated the Olympians."

"Did he get angry?"

"He told me no one can quit their family, no matter if you hate each other."

"Bet you didn't believe that."

"He said I would someday. I thought he was trying to sound wise... but he was right."

Percy's looking so defeated even though he just won the war, that I feel like a terrible person. I'm the reason why my brother can't enjoy his victory.

"Do you hate me, brother?" I ask quietly.

He gets up. "I'm trying to say I'll always care for you even if you hate me."

"I don't hate you," I frown. "I've said mean things, but I don't hold them against you, I know you're scared. I'm scared for you too, that's why I did this."

He nods slowly, deep in thought. "I was willing to die for all of you, I can't lie and say I don't understand where you're coming from..."

"We're good," I state. "You know, sometimes I feel like we've been siblings our whole lives, maybe our souls are old friends," I walk past him. "But we're on different paths. Don't make me quit my free will and my family on the same day."

His face gets really serious. "Never. I'm here for you, Birdy."

I smile. "Would you help me, then? I can't stay in Cabin Ten now that I'm the Strategus."

He pauses. "But isn't it against the rules..."

I stare at him with a deadpan expression. "We're siblings, Percy."

"Right," he makes a face. "I need a nap."

After Frank explains that he's been hearing the Roman and Greek versions of his dad shouting inside his head, it makes sense that he was interested to hear more about the voices in her head.

"Maybe we can fix your problem and save Hazel while doing so," Ara's mind races through several ideas. "If you offer a deal to your mentally unstable father, maybe he'll get us a python for Trip's chariot. Ask them if they'd like that."

Frank looks at her begrudgingly, but he closes his eyes anyway. He grumbles and groans for a few seconds, then fixes his posture, still not opening his eyes. "Horatius... Fine. If that's what it takes, I'll prove I'm as good as Horatius. Uh... what did he do?" 

After a second, Frank's eyes open and he looks at her. 

"I hope you're in the mood for a Phorcy's 2.0"

Ara grins. "Always am."

"Get on one knee so I can crown you the Canadian lone ranger."

Ara ties a large shirt over Frank's nose and mouth to protect him from the cow-dogs's poison. She won't even try to call those monsters by their name, she knows she'll get it wrong.

"All set," Ara covers her nose and mouth as well. "Ready?"

"You look weirdly happy," Frank points out while pulling up tiles and searching for roots.

"That's because I'm absurd. It took Jason, Piper, and Leo a week to figure it out," Ara cuts pieces of the roots and stuffs her pockets with them. She's wearing safety gloves to protect her skin. "Sorry you have to put up with me."

"Percy's a lot like you, Greeks are generally crazier," he comments while Ara ties pieces of roots to the belt loops of his pants. "I'll survive."

"That's the first time someone says Percy's like me and not the other way around," she says bemusedly.

Frank chuckles, then shrugs. "So why are you happy?"

"Because we have a plan. I like it when solutions are found quickly, and even more when it's something I can do without help. Well, partially—I sort of need you."

"Thank you," he replies without much excitement. "Now let's hunt some smelly cows."

The monsters might look heavy, but these creatures can run. Ara turns Almighty into a spear and Frank turns into a lion, she climbs his back and holds onto his mane, stabbing the cow-dogs that dare to inch closer.

They run through narrow streets, taunting the creatures with the nasty smell of their roots. Her spear isn't killing them fast enough so she switches to something different: a BB gun. Ara has better aim with a gun than she ever had with a bow, but Michael never let her use guns in camp because he considered that too risky.

She wonders what he'd think, watching her ride a lion through Venice while shooting at an army of cow-dogs. He'd be torn between awe and horror no doubt. Ara thinks about what her younger self would think, and that image comes effortlessly: Little Ara would be whooping and screaming at her to aim between the eyes.

Frank stops near a canal and turns into a human. Ara jumps off his back and keeps shooting. "You want our poison roots?" He screams, slashing through the herd with Hazel's sword. "Come and get them!"

He grabs Ara by the waist and jumps to the canal, turning into a dolphin. The girl holds onto him, but even though she'd been expecting this part, the smelly water is warm and repulsive, and she squirms in disgust.

"This sucks!" She shoots at the monsters angrily. "Nico's in debt for life!"

It feels like an eternity of running and killing, Ara keeps changing Almighty into different weapons to test out its efficiency, and she keeps glowing different colors as well: White, silver, green, and teal (she grew tired after that one, pulled half a dozen cow-dogs to the canal). 

"There!" Frank points at an old wooden bridge.

"Looks weak!" Ara nods approvingly. "Let's go!"

Frank turns into an eagle to make sure all the monsters are still following them, and Ara focuses on shooting, slashing, stabbing, and exploding the monsters with the bombs she had in her Octopi. Frank joins her in human form, pulling her to the middle of the bridge.

He grabs the roots from her pockets and tosses them behind them along with his roots, then he draws out Hazel's spatha. "Come on! You want to know what Frank Zhang is worth? Come on!"

Ara's never used all of her blessings in a row, and it takes a lot from her. Her anger is keeping her standing, she's tired of having to guess whether they'll be wounded or helped—most of all, she's tired of pitying herself. 

Ara likes a good fight, and she enjoys killing monsters, but lately, all she thinks is that she's sending threats to Percy and Annabeth, thinning their chances of survival and getting in their way like she's always done. 

Her actions have consequences, in this world and the next, and the ones around her. All she can do is minimize the damage by not going apeshit. She focuses on achieving their goal even if it costs her a limb, she can't go back to the ship with Nico as a plant and no Hazel, so she'll do whatever Frank tells her to, twist herself into knots if she has to.

The girl calculates all of her moves and keeps an eye on Frank, who attacks the monsters in all the forms he can imagine, animal and human. He's a little frantic too, their strength and patience are running out. 

Eventually, a red light envelops them. There are no monsters left except for one, and Ara yanks Frank backward before he slays it. "You said we needed one!"

"Mars!" Frank yells, eyes wild and angry. "I've proven myself. Now I need a snake!"

The cow-dog jumps at them, and Frank moves Ara out of the way to cut it in half. The monster vanishes in a flash, and in its place, a python lands at their feet.

"Well done," says a voice.

Ara drops her sword. This is Mars, not Ares, she knows the difference because this version looks less stupid. She kneels before him, grateful. Percy would not approve of this, but the girl doesn't care. Ares has always kept her alive, like Clarisse did when they were little.

"On your feet, Strategus," he commands her. "A good leader knows when to hand over the reigns, and when to take control. You've earned my blessing."

Ara feels a lump in her throat but says nothing, she steps back so Frank can talk to his dad. "Father," the boy speaks hoarsely.

"It's natural to feel fear." Ara only heard him speak this warmly when Clarisse killed the drakon. "All great warriors are afraid. Only the stupid and the delusional are not. But you faced your fear, my son. You did what you had to do, like Horatius. This was your bridge, and you defended it."

"I—" Frank gulps. "I... I just needed a snake."

The god smirks. "Yes. And now you have one. Your bravery has united my forms, Greek and Roman, if only for a moment. Go. Save your friends. But hear me, Frank. Your greatest test is yet to come. When you face the armies of Gaea at Epirus, your leadership—" the god bends over, his form glitching from the Roman to the Greek. "Agony!" He moans. "Go! Hurry!"

"Get on my back," Frank tells her. 

Ara does and then he turns into an eagle, grabs the python with his claws, and flies away. 

"You found one!" Triptolemus says delightedly.

"Heal them," Frank drags the python into the room and then moves over to Hazel. "Now."

"How do I know the snake will work?"

Ara yanks the python closer to the chariot, tilts it sideways, and wraps the creature around the broken wheel. The chariot comes to life and starts circling the room.

"Fixed." Ara crosses her arms. "That'll be two healthy children of the Underworld, please."

Triptolemus tilts his head, toying with their worry. "Well, thank you for the snake, but I'm not sure I like your attitudes, demigods. Perhaps I'll turn you into—"

Frank jumps to his feet and pushes the god against a wall. It's only then that Ara notices his physical change. She glances down, her body looks different too.

"Think about your next words," Frank growls. "Or instead of beating my sword into a plowshare, I will beat it into your head."

"You know..." The god's eyes dart between him and Ara, who's glaring at him too. "I think I'll heal your friends." 

"Swear it on the River Styx," Frank presses.

"I swear it on the River Styx."

The boy steps back and Triptolemus stumbles away from him. "Just—just gathering herbs!"

Frank stands next to Ara, taller than before. Before they left Trip's house, Nico the potted plant was the same height as her, now it barely reaches her chin. Both demigods look at each other and Ara whistles.

"You look scary."

"You're small... but a different small," Frank frowns. "Like a bodybuilder that's just getting started. There's a child of Venus in New Rome—"

Hazel coughs and sits up. Triptolemus is next to her, his fingers full of crumbs and greenish matter.  "What—?"

Frank approaches and wraps his arms around her, he could suffocate the fourteen-year-old without even trying. "You're going to be fine. Everything is fine."

"But..." Hazel moves away and eyes him. "Frank, what happened to you?"

"To me?" He looks at himself. "I don't... Uh... I don't... Maybe I can fix it."

Hazel laughs. "Why? You look amazing!"

"I—I do?"

"I mean, you were handsome before! But you look older, and taller, and so distinguished—"

"Mars's blessing," Ara explains. "We both got it, I think."

"You think?" Triptolemus snorts. "Now, if we're done here..."

"We're not done," Frank points at the corn plant. "Heal Nico."

Nico turns back into a human and Ara steadies him before he falls on his face. "I—I had the weirdest nightmare about popcorn." He scowls at Ara, now as tall as him. "Why are we eye-to-eye?"

"You've been a corn plant for two years—"

"Knock it off, Birdy," Frank interrupts her. "Everything's fine. Triptolemus was about to tell us how to survive the House of Hades. Weren't you, Trip?"

"Fine," Trip makes a face. "When you arrive at Epirus, you will be offered a chalice to drink from."

"Offered by whom?" Nico questions.

"Doesn't matter. Just know that it is filled with deadly poison."

"So you're saying that we shouldn't drink it," Hazel says hesitantly.

"No! You must drink it, or you'll never be able to make it through the temple. The poison connects you to the world of the dead, lets you pass into the lower levels. The secret to surviving is... barley."

"Barley." Frank repeats.

"In the front room, take some of my special barley. Make it into little cakes. Eat these before you step into the House of Hades. The barley will absorb the worst of the poison, so it will affect you, but not kill you."

"That's it?" Nico frowns. "Hecate sent us halfway across Italy so you could tell us to eat barley?"

"Good luck!" Triptolemus gets on his chariot. "And, Frank Zhang, I forgive you for threatening me! You've got spunk. And you're brighter than you look, daughter of Olympus! I'd love to see you two get a degree in farming!"

"Not a chance, Trip!" Ara waves him off.

"Yeah," Frank makes a face. "Thanks."

"He's right, you know," Nico tells her. "You don't look smart. Ouch! You're stronger?!" He asks in outrage.

"Be quiet or I'll send you to camp in pieces," Ara warns him.

"Oh, to be mobile again!" Triptolemus exclaims as the garage doors open. "So many ignorant lands in need of my knowledge. I will teach them the glories of tilling, irrigation, fertilizing! Away, my serpents! Away!"

"I kind of regret fixing his ride," Ara mumbles. "We've released a nuance into the world."

"Can't be any worse than what's already out there," Frank sighs.

"That," Hazel says, "was very strange."

"The glories of fertilizing." Nico moves away from Ara and brushes off the corn hairs of his jacket. "Can we get out of here now?"

"Are you two okay, really?" Hazel places a hand on Frank's shoulder. "You bartered for our lives. What did Triptolemus make you do?"

Frank looks at his feet and takes a shaky breath. "Those cow monsters... the katoblepones that poisoned you... we had to destroy them."

"That was brave," Nico points out. "There must have been, what, six or seven left in that herd."

"No." Frank corrects him. "All of them. We killed all of them in the city."

Ara holds Frank's hand to absorb some of his torment. "I told Triptolemus I could fix his chariot, and Frank just did his best to help me."

"You put your life on the line just so we could heal Hazel," Frank squeezes her hand once and then lets go. "We helped each other. I know it's your job, but..."

"My job is to keep you from danger, not to put you in its way," Ara makes a face. "It won't happen again, I apologize."

"Look at that," Nico raises a brow. "That's the second time I hear a sincere apology from you. Maybe those blessings make you grow in more ways than one." 

She thinks about what Hercules said, her ambition feeding on her youth. "How fun..."

"Well," Nico moves toward the exit. "Does anyone know what barley looks like?"

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @asnyox-the-hoarder @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh

[nerds-yearbook]

In 1989, Hasbro released their 8th series of G.I. Joe RAH action figures: Alley Vipers (Cobra urban assault troopers), Annihilator (Destro's elite trooper), Backblast (anti-aircraft soldier), Countdown (astronaut), Dee-Jay (Battleforce 2000 comm-tech trooper) Deep Six (v2 deep sea diver), Downtown (mortar man), Frag-Viper (Cobra grenade thrower), Gnawgahyde (Dreadnok poacher), H.E.A.T. Viper (Cobra bazooka man), Night-Viper (Cobra night fighter), Recoil (Long Range Recon Patrol), Rock n Roll (v2 gatling gunner), Scoop (combat information specialist), Snake Eyes (v3 commando), Stalker (v2 tundra ranger), T.A.R.G.A.T. (trans atmospheric rapid global assault trooper), Vehicle Drivers: Aero-Viper (Condor Z-25 pilot), Darklon (Evader driver), Dogfight (Mudfighter pilot), Hot Seat (Raider Driver), Long Range (Thunderclap driver), Payload (v2 astronaut that came with the Crusader space shuttle), Track Viper (H.I.S.S. II driver), Wildboar (Razorback driver), Windchill (Artic Blast driver), Slaughter's Marauders: Barbecue (v2 firefighter), Footloose (v2 infantry trooper), Low Light (v2 night spotter), Mutt (v2 animal control/utilization technician), Sgt Slaughter (v4 commander of Slaughter's Marauders), Spirit (v2 tracker), Python Patrol: Python Copperhead (v2 Python Patrol swamp fighter), Python Crimson Guard (v2 Python Patrol elite trooper), Python Officer (Python Patrol officer), Python Tele Viper (v2 Python Patrol communications), Python Trooper (Python Patrol infantry), Python Viper (v2 Python Patrol assault viper), Night Force: Charbroil (v2 flamethrower), Lightfoot (v2 explosives expert), Muskrat (v2 swamp fighter),Repeater (v2 steadi-cam machine gunner), Shockwave (v2 S.W.A.T. specialist), Spear-Head and Max (v2 point man and bobcat), Mail-in specials: Rampage (Mauler M.B.T. Tank Driver), Starduster (jet pack trooper), and Steel Brigade (a character meant to be personalized by the buyer). (G.I. Joe RAH toys wave 8, G.I. Joe toy event)

[the-trinket-witch]

Yandere!OC Headcanons (TWST Edition)

So I may be not finding it in my orbit, but for a thought exercise I wanted to explore the toxic sides of my OCs. Thought it would be an interesting character exploration. So I figured I’d try to write headcanons for if any of my OCs went off the Yandere Deep End. (NOTE: I shouldn’t have to but apparently need to preface that writing this is not me condoning said behavior or idealizing it. If you recognize patterns like this in people in your real life, I cannot advise one way or another what you do with that information.) (divider by @/saradika)

Eugenio Hernandez (Yuu):

To preface, Yuu is Ace, but not Aro. Most likely they would be the Toxic bud ya keep around cause their life sounds awful. Nobody wants to be somebody’s 13th reason; you don't wanna add to the pile of 'shit going wrong in their life'/'be another one of those people that leaves'. But when they blow their top, it’s explosive. But even then, they’d still have a ways to go before ever attempting to lay a hand on you. No, they’d rather rant and rave and exhaust themselves with how shit of a hand the world has dealt them. Once they’ve let off steam, they’re all mumbled apologies and cooking dinner to make up for it.

Tidus Rhin:

His yandere extreme would turn him into The Love-B52. His size would be enough to intimidate any into not leaving his smothering, even if he never gives any indication he'd act with it. He'd prefer acting like a kicked puppy at the prospect of you needing space. Don’t you see, though? He’s utterly fascinated with you, adores you, it’s almost fetishistic. The more you pull away, the more he’s going to try lavishing you in any ways he can think of. If that doesn’t dissuade you, maybe if you just take this potion to come under the sea with him and meet his family…Just check first if the potion is permanent or temporary.

Lázaro Muertinez:

This man loves to talk. He loves to serenade you and talk you up just as you do for his music career. But you’d need to be able to pick up and leave at a moment’s notice-fame is something to chase and it doesn’t wait. What are your reservations against coming with him? It doesn’t matter, he’ll find a way around it, for you of course. If you stick to your guns, though, Laz is the yandere that knows how to orchestrate an oh so convenient health scare. If that doesn't dissuade from leaving his side, then comes the silent treatment. He'll completely drop off the planet. No posts on social media, not returning calls, nothing. For a second the idea he might have done something drastic is exactly what he'd be counting on.

Aadesh Sona: 

This snake’s AroAce, but he isn’t above doing most anything to advance his goals. Gaslight, gatekeep, ghost-mode. He’s a psych major, so he knows how to twist his words and drop tidbits of info to confuse and trap you. He’s not being manipulative, you are for daring to get away. But he’ll be able to see the writing on the wall. He’ll back off. Prey is more difficult to catch when it struggles, anyway. And like an actual python, he will have everything poised for when you are in the prime position to strike. What will he do when he gets you back? Well, you and he will just have to sleep on it.

Rajesh Khan: 

As far as yanderes go, He’s the only TWST OC of mine who isn’t above using physical means of keeping a potential partner in line. It’s only reserved, though, for when money can’t buy your happiness and obedience. It’s with that same money that makes him nigh untouchable in court, should you try bringing his aggression to light. It’s both money, and the friends in equally high places that make escape from the tiger’s jaws almost impossible.

Albert Eastwind:

Can one blame him for being the controlling type? Similar to how people headcanon Yan!Jade and Azul, He'll provide everything you need or want. Why would you want to leave? Oh don't say he's smothering, he'll pick up more work to 'offer space' but also stifle the idea of you needing or wanting your own financial independence. But while he may work himself tirelessly to keep your cage gilded and shining, he will have your schedule down to the minute. Any deviation will be met with smiles and polite inquiries, but don’t lie to him. And don’t promise you won’t try escaping again if you’re planning on it; he hates pie crust promises.

[xris05]

Writing thingy because I felt like it

The night was still. No leaves rustled, and no trees swayed. No bird chittered, or dared sing. The city too, though alive and bright with fluorescent gaudy light, pushing back at the umbra that enveloped the countryside that strode and encircled this pocket of civilization like a python slavering over its next meal, was equally utterly silent and still. 

A wind-that-was-not-there rustled the fine curtains, pulled them apart through the open mortar and brass of the window, and spilled inside, and once more the wind pretended to be a man. A tall, wire-thin, specimen. Hairy, with a full rough scratchy beard, tangled knots consuming his mane and thin, peering- yet almost gentle - eyes, the colour of the sea at night. Adorned in his fineries, a finely spun shirt, and crisp matte-grey trousers, held by a plain leather belt, but for the scratches along it, in the shape of talleys. Whilst the Wind was shifting and untameable, the conventions of word makes it easier for one to know this stranger as Callahan.

The man-that-was-wind took a moment to glance around the decor of this particularly lavish home, for one could not say that he wasn’t an appreciator of the finer aspects of living. This room was lavish and large. Fine dark wood floors provided the firmament on which he stood and the smell of ancient and dusty tomes forgotten for centuries, if not longer. Callahan inhales, smelling the parchment on the older texts, and the smell of confused fear on the butchered sheep whose skin became a method of preserving the Was fills his lungs.

Callahan smiles wistfully.

The sound of candle-light flickering, and hair-rising sensation of being watched, and the chill of the room through the now open window leads him deeper into the study, past this row of shelves, and onto the fine red carpet, which guides him deeper into the maze of history, geography, mathematics, the sciences, the real and the fictional.

The sound of a great clock ringing echoes in the air, nearly jolts the Wind, its deep ringing vibrato chimes bringing a sudden and stark life to these untrod halls. For all his years, long and tired, the sudden presence of noise where their rule of order was silence never failed to shock and startle him, a dreg of humanity in something that fundamentally was not.

Shock did not arrest his progress for longer than a moment, before his paradoxically silent yet heavy and sure footfalls stalked a path through the maze of paper and ink, oft pausing as he took minutes at a time to appreciate the fine covers which adorn some of the collection. He smiles, pearly white teeth gleaming in the light of lanterns, especially, at the classics, finding something terribly privately amusing about them all.

One of his pale fingers runs down the spine of a particularly ancient tome, before pulling it out of its coffin of hardwood and turning to look at the cover. Plain unadorned leather with simple faux-gold lettering at the front “Ἰλιάς” was the name of the book, and thick was its body, stuffed with loose papers and letters, scrawled in a tongue Callahan had mostly forgotten.

He pushed it back into its place, quietly as he could manage, and he continued on. 

Finally, they reached the back, or perhaps the heart, of this labyrinth and what else to find at its heart than the library's fierce and ruthless protector.

“Adair” Callahan’s melody of a voice cuts through the air, the din of the candle flickering under its unnatural reverberation- which echoed as if the man stood in a wide and snaking valley - “What a wonderful surprise to see you here!” there was something saccharine to his tone, that same private amusement still dominating the tone of the man.

The addressee of his comment snaps his book shut, the sound single, stark and sure. Morgan lets the book rest on the fine desk behind him- the cluttered valleys of free space snaking between plateau’s of books and the towering mountains of half-drunk cups of long since frigid tea. 

Adair was a man in stark contrast to Callahan. Shorter, a tension to his frame like a viper prepared to lash at the slightest provocation. Dark hair cut shortly and neatly into place, equally as well-groomed as the rest of the man who wore a fine suit, albeit unbuttoned and revealing the white shirt below . An almost aristocratic bearing brought a regalness to even the open hostility he felt towards the man opposite, his singular eye quickly scanning Callahan with a deriding disdain, gold and purple mixing into the curious almost ringed singular focus that the ocular organ possessed.

“Why have you come to vex me again, Callahan” was Adair’s curt response, his accent nearly implacable except for the slightest tinge of his Scottish origins.

“Why, I’m hurt” Callahan holds a pale hand to his heart, rolling his head back in mock anguish “Can a friend not visit a friend? Old acquaintances not make themselves reacquainted?” 

“Not when said acquaintances parted on the terms we last did. I do strictly recall telling you that I would not hesitate to strike you down should we ever face one another again.” his gloved hand pulled a desk drawer opened and retrieved a single blade, long and slender, pointed with a blackened metal that even now brought flashes of half-lingering pain to the long gashes that marked the torso of Callahan, and for but a moment his placid peace gave way to an expression like the rolling storm, thunderous and furious, ready to call thunder and hellish licks of the skies own flame to burn this wretched place-

But just for a moment. “Oh, that’s all behind us now, isn’t it? It was such a very long time ago, and really holding a grudge for so long is just… sad, don’t you think?” he pauses delighting in the quiet fury on Adair’s face “Oh, and don’t play the vicious fool Adair. You wouldn’t dare risk your precious books by starting a brawl here.”

That, more than anything yet, disarmed the man, who lowered the blade with a muttered curse, placing it behind him on the desk, where it made no sound even as it clattered against the wood.

“Was that so hard?” Callahan cooed “Really, you always, always make this so difficult-” 

“Get out with it” Adair simply grunted back “You’re here for something, and quite frankly I would appreciate it if you didn’t waste more of our time on your theatrics.”

“All the worlds a stage, Adair, let me have some fun” a laugh, like chiming bells from the Wind “Also, you shouldn’t waste both of our time by pretending you’re not perfectly aware why I’m here. Why we’re all here.”

“I didn't do it. I told them all that quite clearly in my letters and writing” a hint of anger overrides the disdain as Adair leans back in his leather throne, eye now narrowed “I don’t know who did-”

“And isn’t that ironic?” Callahan interrupted, voice dripping with smug amusement, to which only a venomous look was answered in reply.

“- but I can assure you, and the others, that I am no more pleased by it than any of you.” he finished.

“Shocking really, you’ve never known mercy and sympathy for those who’ve wronged you before. Why start now?” his gaze fell solely onto his counterpart's empty socket.

“Because I understand when something is a bad idea.” another curt reply. Enough to leave a brief pocket of silence, before Adair began to speak again “I understand when a decision will leave me in a position, backed in a corner and without many options. It’s exceedingly obvious to me that I have been framed for this heinous violation of the Sacrosanct because someone wanted me out of the picture, wanted me to stop and give up, to cease my searching.”

“Oh here we go again” Callahn sighed, before Adair bulldozed onwards, speaking louder and over him.

“They are scared of me, Callahan! They are terrified of my work, of what I know! They want me silenced, and they are not afraid to do whatever it takes to make sure that my work remains incomplete and my duty unfulfilled! And whilst I do not know yet who it is, rest assured I will-”

“For the sake of all things good just stop talking  and let me-”

“I WILL FIND THEM!” Adair finally shouted, with enough fury, primal and ancient as the lights in the room flickered like a heart-beat, and the sound lingered, bouncing in the maze of books before finally silence came again. The moment seemed to stretch out beyond the seconds that encompassed it. Hundreds of words left unsaid and actions untaken. Callahan had backed away, shock plainly written on his face, as foreign to him as wroth was to his opposite.

“...and when they do, they’ll remember that what exists without my knowledge, exists without my consent” Adair finally finished.

“...quoting the Judge when you stand accused of murder doesn’t seem the wisest” Callahan quietly replied, the joke unamused and more for the sake of filling the poignant and acrid silence than anything truly comedic.

“Just go, Callahan. Tell them all that I just need more time.” Adair lifted his head from his hands, and saw nothing, but the rustle of curtains, and an open window.

The night was long, and it had only just begun

[the-chronicle-of-holy-days]

Day 10

Liber LXV Liber Cordis Cincti Serpente

III

Verily and Amen! I passed through the deep sea, and by the rivers of running water that abound therein, and I came unto the Land of No Desire.

Wherein was a white unicorn with a silver collar, whereon was graven the aphorism Linea viridis gyrat universa.

Then the word of Adonai came unto me by the mouth of the Magister mine, saying: O heart that art girt about with the coils of the old serpent, lift up thyself unto the mountain of initiation!

But I remembered. Yea, Than, yea, Theli, yea, Lilith! these three were about me from of old. For they are one.

Beautiful wast thou, O Lilith, thou serpent-woman!

Thou wast lithe and delicious to the taste, and thy perfume was of musk mingled with ambergris.

Close didst thou cling with thy coils unto the heart, and it was as the joy of all the spring.

But I beheld in thee a certain taint, even in that wherein I delighted.

I beheld in thee the taint of thy father the ape, of thy grandsire the Blind Worm of Slime.

I gazed upon the Crystal of the Future, and I saw the horror of the End of thee.

Further, I destroyed the time Past, and the time to Come—had I not the Power of the Sand-glass?

But in the very hour I beheld corruption.

Then I said: O my beloved, O Lord Adonai, I pray thee to loosen the coils of the serpent!

But she was closed fast upon me, so that my Force was stayed in its inception.

Also I prayed unto the Elephant God, the Lord of Beginnings, who breaketh down obstruction.

These gods came right quickly to mine aid. I beheld them; I joined myself unto them; I was lost in their vastness.

Then I beheld myself compassed about with the Infinite Circle of Emerald that encloseth the Universe.

O Snake of Emerald, Thou hast no time Past, no time To Come. Verily Thou art not.

Thou art delicious beyond all taste and touch, Thou art not-to-be-beheld for glory, Thy voice is beyond the Speech and the Silence and the Speech therein, and Thy perfume is of pure ambergris, that is not weighed against the finest gold of the fine gold.

Also Thy coils are of infinite range; the Heart that Thou dost encircle is an Universal Heart.

I, and Me, and Mine were sitting with lutes in the market-place of the great city, the city of the violets and the roses.

The night fell, and the music of the lutes was stilled.

The tempest arose, and the music of the lutes was stilled.

The hour passed, and the music of the lutes was stilled.

But Thou art Eternity and Space; Thou art Matter and Motion; and Thou art the negation of all these things.

For there is no Symbol of Thee.

If I say Come up upon the mountains! the celestial waters flow at my word. But thou art the Water beyond the waters.

The red three-angled heart hath been set up in Thy shrine; for the priests despised equally the shrine and the god.

Yet all the while Thou wast hidden therein, as the Lord of Silence is hidden in the buds of the lotus.

Thou art Sebek the crocodile against Asar; thou art Mati, the Slayer in the Deep. Thou art Typhon, the Wrath of the Elements, O Thou who transcendest the Forces in their Concourse and Cohesion, in their Death and their Disruption. Thou art Python, the terrible serpent about the end of all things!

I turned me about thrice in every way; and always I came at the last unto Thee.

Many things I beheld mediate and immediate; but, beholding them no more, I beheld Thee.

Come thou, O beloved One, O Lord God of the Universe, O Vast One, O Minute One! I am Thy beloved.

All day I sing of Thy delight; all night I delight in Thy song.

There is no other day or night than this.

Thou art beyond the day and the night; I am Thyself, O my Maker, my Master, my Mate!

I am like the little red dog that sitteth upon the knees of the Unknown.

Thou hast brought me into great delight. Thou hast given me of Thy flesh to eat and of Thy blood for an offering of intoxication.

Thou hast fastened the fangs of Eternity in my soul, and the Poison of the Infinite hath consumed me utterly.

I am become like a luscious devil of Italy; a fair strong woman with worn cheeks, eaten out with hunger for kisses. She hath played the harlot in divers palaces; she hath given her body to the beasts.

She hath slain her kinsfolk with strong venom of toads; she hath been scourged with many rods.

She hath been broken in pieces upon the Wheel; the hands of the hangman have bound her unto it.

The fountains of water have been loosed upon her; she hath struggled with exceeding torment.

She hath burst in sunder with the weight of the waters; she hath sunk into the awful Sea.

So am I, O Adonai, my lord, and such are the waters of Thine intolerable Essence.

So am I, O Adonai, my beloved, and Thou hast burst me utterly in sunder.

I am shed out like spilt blood upon the mountains; the Ravens of Dispersion have borne me utterly away.

Therefore is the seal unloosed, that guarded the Eighth abyss; therefore is the vast sea as a veil; therefore is there a rending asunder of all things.

Yea, also verily Thou art the cool still water of the wizard fount. I have bathed in Thee, and lost me in Thy stillness.

That which went in as a brave boy of beautiful limbs cometh forth as a maiden, as a little child for perfection.

O Thou light and delight, ravish me away into the milky ocean of the stars!

O Thou Son of a light-transcending mother, blessed be Thy name, and the Name of Thy Name, throughout the ages!

Behold! I am a butterfly at the Source of Creation; let me die before the hour, falling dead into Thine infinite stream!

Also the stream of the stars floweth ever majestical unto the Abode; bear me away upon the Bosom of Nuit!

This is the world of the waters of Maim; this is the bitter water that becometh sweet. Thou art beautiful and bitter, O golden one, O my Lord Adonai, O thou Abyss of Sapphire!

I follow Thee, and the waters of Death fight strenuously against me. I pass unto the Waters beyond Death and beyond Life.

How shall I answer the foolish man? In no way shall he come to the Identity of Thee!

But I am the Fool that heedeth not the Play of the Magician. Me doth the Woman of the Mysteries instruct in vain; I have burst the bonds of Love and of Power and of Worship.

Therefore is the Eagle made one with the Man, and the gallows of infamy dance with the fruit of the just.

I have descended, O my darling, into the black shining waters, and I have plucked Thee forth as a black pearl of infinite preciousness.

I have gone down, O my God, into the abyss of the all, and I have found Thee in the midst under the guise of No Thing.

But as Thou art the Last, Thou art also the Next, and as the Next do I reveal Thee to the multitude.

They that ever desired Thee shall obtain Thee, even at the End of their Desire.

Glorious, glorious, glorious art Thou, O my lover supernal, O Self of myself.

For I have found Thee alike in the Me and the Thee; there is no difference, O my beautiful, my desirable One! In the One and the Many have I found Thee; yea, I have found Thee.

Source: https://www.windmoonmagic.com/major-arcana/the-hanged-man

[zaigg]

I want to leave America behind

Hello internet. I am looking for other countries to move to because of recent and future events in the US. I am simply looking for advice and/or support on how to make it a reality.

I have done some research on possible avenues I could take, but legal stuff and visas are confusing.

It may be obvious why I am looking to hop the country as soon as possible but if not, here's some of my reasons:

am AFAB

uterus haver

relies on hormonal medication to stop the red sea every month

not straight

i like women

and not women

not cis

not trans, but definitely not cis

asian

specifically chinese

multiple death threats to my face in 2020

I live in a deep red state

etc etc etc you can probably assume the rest

Here are some of my qualifiers, idk.

23 years old

4-year college degree in art/media

2-year college degree in general studies

certification in accessibility in gaming

no debt

only speaks English

some amount of savings

simple programming skills in HTML/CSS, Python, C

I can cook

I can clean

I like baking

My bill payer job is decorating cakes

I like cats :D

no qualifications in anything in the medical field

Any help or advice is very appreciated :]

[urbanglitterfolk]

The song of cicadas

There have been many times in my life when I have envied foolish women, like Daisy Buchanan. My mother knows this, and when I say it, she just laughs. She laughs because, thanks to her genes, ambition, and dedication, her daughters are not the dazzlingly foolish women of The Great Gatsby. I suppose that’s why I’m here, hiding from mosquitoes in the middle of nowhere in the Peruvian high jungle, like a child playing at camp, with scraped knees and a few cuts on my feet, still chasing after something I can no longer name—a feeling, a state of consciousness.

The mountains greet me with a nonchalant attitude, their familiarity disarms me. They feel so known yet so distant, like the sand I find in my swimsuit—I don’t know if it’s from yesterday or months ago—but none of that matters. All I know is that where there’s sand, there’s happiness.

Six o’clock arrives, and I am ready. I had picked out my dress for the ceremony months ago. I had spent more time than I care to admit thinking about what to wear, but nature had other plans.

"Ready whenever you are!" I text Mayra. She, the hotel owner, is doing me the favor of driving me to the Ashram and introducing me to Don Alberto (we’ll call him “Don” even though he introduced himself as just Alberto—out of respect for his role as a medicine man). Mayra offered to stay with me, but, frankly, I’d rather be stung by a wasp again that same day than force someone to witness and listen to me vomit all night.

I feel like a tribute girl from an ancient tribe, yet not quite. To feel like a tribute girl, I needed my dress.

The sound of cicadas is so loud that it drowns out my thoughts, like an alarm. Mayra, now my friend, mentions that to her, they sound like sirens. At this, I only smile. Always with the sirens.

She doesn’t know that my house is filled with siren crafts, that it all started with a gift and has now become the leitmotif of my home. She doesn’t know that six years ago, when I decided to become the person I longed to be, I felt like I was drowning in the waves while trying to surf, and there, for the first time, I heard the sea. Since that day, the sea, the sirens, and I have been interconnected in ways too numerous to count. But they always appear when something is about to happen, and that’s why I’m here—trying to understand what comes next.

The ceremony began with chants and tobacco. I spent the night in an Ashram in the ecological reserve, where, just hours earlier, I had seen a python (which gave me more nausea than my first dose). The tobacco-infused liquid reminded me of the worst Marlboro hangover of my life. I looked at the stars, felt the guardians, took a deep breath.

On the second dose, the ayahuasca arrived, announced by drums in a giant wave of dolphins and sirens who, though new to me, carried the same intimate familiarity that only the medicine can bring.

I saw the Pacha’s web, the spider, the ant. I saw my mother’s womb. I saw my own womb. But more than anything, I saw myself—I saw myself at 29, 15, 10, 5, and 3 years old. And I saw myself seeing myself, speaking to myself, in suppressed memories that now feel like déjà vu.

I remembered that I have always been there. That, to me, time and space are not linear. And that even though I cannot see myself now, my future self already holds everything I most desire.

It became clear that this time, I wasn’t meant to look ahead but to go back to the beginning. Yet I couldn’t get there. I would have liked to, but it wasn’t the moment.

María Sabina invited me into her body. I traveled to the Peruvian jungle only for an eagle to be absorbed by a tree. I have never been particularly patriotic, but this message had already been given to me—of course, I had ignored it. But it is no coincidence that I am flooded with tears whenever I speak of my home, nor is it a coincidence that when my home found its place, my body disintegrated.

The journey ends almost as quickly as it begins; I step outside to look at the stars, the cicadas continue. I think of my friend Ally and a haiku that began one of his, now many, documentaries: "Nothing in the cry of cicadas suggests, they are about to die."

I think this journey began six years ago, out of fear of dying without having truly lived. And a year ago, I understood that it all begins in the mind. I understood my achievements as just that—achievements, not coincidences. That’s why I write today.

Here, in the middle of nowhere, yet at the center of the planet’s lungs, I know that every breath brings me closer to death—but also to joy. Alas, more time than life.

[thesuetyouforgot]

What do you think of the German comedian Loriot? And about the TV show 'Sketch History'? I absolutely love both, and 'Sketch History' reminds me of Monty Python soo much (the team must have been majorly inspired by them). They really nailed the humour and came up with their own recurring characters and creative sketches. I wish I could translate all the sketches into English and show them to an international audience 😅

Omg I LOVE Loriot! Especially the TV series/the sketches. I could write entire essays about it. Did you know that he actually stole from Monty Python quite a bit? (I will put a paragraph on that below the cut bc I've wanted to talk about that for years now lol but feel free to just ignore that part)

Sadly I'm not the right person to talk about Sketch History with. I dislike that show so much for no apparent reason. I just really don't enjoy it and never found it that funny tbh, it's so far off my humour... I'm sorry. But after hearing your praise I will definitely give a few of their sketches another chance now and find out if they maybe remind me of Monty Python as well. Do you have any recommendations for which sketches are the best/most like Python?

And thank you for your ask! :)

Now, what did Loriot "steal"?

Most famous example is the Wrong Interview Partner sketch in which the wrong person (with an ordinary job) accidentally ends up in a TV studio, getting asked the questions which were intended for someone with an extreme job. (In one version it's a deep sea diver and in the other one it's an astronaut, can't remember which one is by whom.) Why is this one 'famous'? Because John Cleese himself spoke about it, pointing out that it really is copied in an obvious way.

A really obviously stolen sketch is the 'Superscope' sketch introducing a revolutionary new invention of an extremely wide screen on which you can watch entire races without a single cut or camera move. Since it's just a tiny strip of white across your TV screen you can't even hide that it's stolen. (In one case it's a horse race, I believe, and the other one a 500m sprint?)

Another one which is less obvious but I still believe was inspired a lot by Monty Python is the beloved "Das Bild hängt schief" in which a salesman is to wait in a room until someone has time for him and in the meantime -due to butterfly effect really- accidentally demolishes the whole interior piece by piece. Monty Python has a sketch where we have someone waiting for someone in a room, too, but in this case he ends up accidentally killing everyone of the staff who enters that room. (That would probably have been too extreme for German TV, while the need to correct a wonky hanging painting is way more realistic. But I wouldn't be surprised if Loriot did get inspired by MP.)

The last one is something that could also be wrong because I might have mixed it up in my memory but MP has the Hide and Seek Olympics. And in a little Loriot intersection we see a reporter (unsuccessfully) looking for the Hide and Seek finalist, too, if I remember correctly.

On the other hand I think it's not a bad thing. It was a normal thing to do: You see something you like in another country and try to bring it to your own people, too. It's been done with songs, game shows, anything... Its just interesting because at that time Monty Python's Flying Circus wasn't even that famous and loved in Britain itself. So knowing of its existence and deciding to use some of their material is quite fascinating to me. (The wrong interview sketch by Loriot was aired one day prior to the airing of Monty Pythons Fliegender Zirkus in 1972. The other sketches weren't aired until 1976 though.)