#I'm kind of proud of the heretics one

[lewdcookies]

Speaking of photoshop and memes, I have also done a lot of non-campaign related Warhammer memes over the past years.

Like a lot.

Once again featuring far too much art from @norkoartstuff.

2021:

2022:

2023:

Like a lot.

Once again featuring far too much art from @norkoartstuff.

[osbxrne]

HANDMAIDS ALWAYS WALK IN TWOS， REMEMBER? / june + janine.

I THINK IN THIS PLACE， YOU GRAB LOVE WHEREVER YOU CAN FIND IT. / june + nick.

WELL，I LIKE IT. I LIKE HIS GARBAGE. / june + luke.

IN ANOTHER LIFE，MAYBE WE COULD'VE BEEN COLLEAGUES. IN THIS ONE，WE'RE HERETICS. / june + serena.

YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE CAPABLE OF UNTIL YOU HAVE TO DO IT. / self

I SHOULD’VE LET YOU BURN WHEN I HAD THE CHANCE. / serena.

I WENT BACK TO NICK. TIME AFTER TIME， ON MY OWN. / nick.

NIGHT BY NIGHT HE RECEDES，I BECOME MORE FAITHLESS. / luke.

SHE COMES SO CLEARLY TO ME IN THE BATH. / hannah.

I WILL NOT LET YOU GROW UP IN THIS PLACE. / holly.

KEEP YOUR FUCKING SHIT TOGETHER. / moira.

RED LEADER STANDING BY! / janine.

YOU FAILED THEM. YOU FAILED YOUR PRECIOUS GIRLS! / lydia.

YOU HELPED CREATE THIS WORLD，HOW LONG DID YOU THINK BEFORE IT CAME FOR YOU? / joseph.

YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT IS TO HAVE A CHILD OF YOUR OWN FLESH & BLOOD & YOU NEVER WILL. / fred.

MAYBE THIS IS AS FREE AS WE'RE GONNA GET. / alma.

PIOUS LITTLE SHIT. / emily.

I WANT MY BABY TO KNOW KINDNESS. / rita.

MAKE ME PROUD. / esther.

I'M SORRY I WAS SUCH A SHIT TO YOU. I GOT LOST， I THINK. / natalie.

WEAR THE DRESS，PULL THE STRINGS. / musings.

A RAT IN A MAZE IS FREE TO GO ANYWHERE，LONG AS IT STAYS INSIDE THE MAZE. / about.

THEY SHOULD HAVE NEVER GIVEN US UNIFORMS IF THEY DIDN’T WANT US TO BE AN ARMY. / gilead.

THE WHITE TUNNELS OF CLOTH THAT ENCLOSE US. / wardrobe.

SEASON ONE. / v1.

SEASON TWO. / v2.

SEASON THREE. /v3.

WE THOUGHT WE HAD SUCH PROBLEMS. HOW WERE WE TO KNOW WE WERE HAPPY? / pre gilead.

[springwitch26]

sweet daisy and the violet witch (agatha harkness x fem!reader)

tip jar / masterlist

summary: you are a baby witch in a tough situation. when a mysterious, brooding woman offers to teach you how to control your powers, you can't refuse. but what does she want with you? and... what do you want with her?

warnings: smut (18+), captivity and bondage but reader isn't exactly unwilling, mind-reading, sexy magic, humiliation, praise kink, dirty talk, enchanted strap, squirting, agatha is dark ofc, reader has a shitty sexist ex-boyfriend but he's only there to set up the story

notes: MY FIRST AGATHA FIC! this is set pre-westview and it is just pages upon pages of detailed, heretical, homosexual filth. it's been a long time coming, and i'm really proud of it. hope you guys enjoy 💜

tears streamed down your face as you stormed out of your now ex-boyfriend's house. the relationship had run its course, you knew that. but you never expected the breakup to be so ugly. he called you a "crazy bitch" and threatened to call the cops on you for destroying his living room.

and you didn't even do anything! at least, not on purpose.

the fight lasted an hour. you told him you wanted to break up, and he didn't take the rejection well. he started cursing you out, following you around the house as you frantically gathered your belongings.

now, you could handle the insults to your appearance and the comments about all the other women who supposedly wanted him. but when he started making sexual remarks—talking about how "frigid" you were and lamenting that he never fucked you hard enough to put you in your place—you lost it.

"shut up!" you cried, and the house shook with the impact. a wave of daisy yellow light burst from your chest and wreaked havoc on the living room. every lightbulb in every lamp shattered. the tv fell off the wall. books flew off their shelves and hurtled toward your ex's head. the carpet was singed. a few cracks appeared in the ceiling.

your ex ducked to avoid the flying books, then fell to his knees. he was uninjured despite the destruction, but his pride was wounded. you used his moment of weakness to grab your bag and rush out of the house, running down the street as fast as you could while he shouted obscenities.

you ran for a minute or so before a black car with tinted windows pulled up beside you. you froze in fear, but quickly relaxed when the driver rolled her window down. she was an older woman, and a beautiful one at that.

long, dark waves framed her face, and concern was written in her expression. her left arm extended out toward you, and you could see she was wearing a deep purple blazer.

"hey, hon. i heard some commotion from down the street and then saw you running. are you alright?" the woman's low voice was soothing, and you felt much safer already.

"i'm okay, thank you. i just broke up with my boyfriend and it didn't go over well," you admitted, your shaky voice betraying your anxiety about the whole situation.

"well, i can't let you walk all the way home, sweetheart. how about i give you a ride?"

you considered her offer. it was cold and rainy outside, and your apartment was a good distance away. this woman was a stranger, but she put you at ease for some reason. besides, much worse people than her could be out at this time of night.

"that would be great. thank you so much. i'm y/n," you said, stepping into the passenger seat.

"agatha harkness," the good samaritan replied, offering her hand to you. you took her hand and shook it, noting the delicate veins running up her long fingers. her thumb stroked the back of your palm for a few seconds, and the skin tingled when she stopped. "lovely to meet you, dear."

you told her your address and she put it in the gps, beginning the 15-minute drive to your place. agatha was pleasant and kind as she listened to your story, how your boyfriend had treated you and how you'd reacted—omitting the magical details, naturally.

when the car pulled up in front of your apartment, you thanked agatha and gave her a hug. she smelled like violets and old books, and you hesitated to pull away. when you did reach for the door handle, it didn't budge.

it all happened in a flash: purple smoke obscured every window, your hands and feet were bound by glowing purple ties, and agatha smiled. the smoke cleared, and you were not at your apartment. instead, the car was parked in front of a small black house with gothic accents.

"wha—how—" you stuttered.

"i'm glad you asked. it was a simple illusion spell. couldn't have you getting suspicious, could i?"

"s-spell?"

"yes, darling, a spell. i'm a witch. you are, too, but i'm sure you already knew that."

you looked down at your lap and shook your head.

"oh? that's a surprise. i mean, i knew you weren't the most sophisticated witch, but i figured you'd at least have a grasp on what you are."

your mind reeled at the revelation. although she had basically kidnapped you, you felt a strange pull to the woman in the driver's seat. your gut told you to trust what she was saying: you were a witch.

"tell you what, baby witch," she offered, a mischievous glint in her eye. "if you promise not to run, i'll untie you."

what choice did you have but to obey her? you didn't know how to control your powers, and sooner or later, they were going to get you in trouble. agatha knew more than you did, and she was teasing you with the irresistible chance to understand your magic.

"i won't run," you whispered. you felt agatha lift her magical binds.

"good girl."

---

agatha did what she always did. she promised to teach you how to master your powers, lulled you into a false sense of security. and at night, when you were sleeping soundly in her bed, she would try to take your power.

it only took her a couple of days to realize that she couldn't access your magic. she tried everything, but your bright yellow power was totally incompatible with her mystic purple—a fountain of light, untouchable by other witches.

oddly, agatha accepted this. unlike any of her previous conquests, you inspired a curious fondness in the older woman. you were smart and beautiful, powerful yet unassuming. and you were hers to teach, to touch, to protect and corrupt. with some training, you would be a formidable ally.

as for you? you were neither her victim nor her partner, but something in between. you abandoned your old life and happily crawled into bed with her each night—so she could keep an eye on you, she said.

"women like us will never be safe in this world, y/n," she would whisper into your hair. "that asshole saw what you can do, and he didn't like it. you're too precious for the stake, honey. i have to keep you close."

agatha hated your ex, but she could use him to channel your rage. as you worked through the emotional toll of the breakup, you worked on your telekinesis. as you processed the extent of his manipulation, you learned the basics of mind control.

one day, agatha wanted to see if you could hold your own against her. she was anxious to know if you could protect yourself with the strategies she'd taught you.

"you ready, superstar?" agatha asked, looking you up and down hungrily. you were wearing the outfit she had picked out specifically for this occasion: a black mesh halter top with a little yellow skirt, "ideal" for mobility. "don't worry, i'll go easy on you."

"i think so," you responded, trying to settle your nerves and anticipate her first move. but it was hard to focus when she stared at you with dark eyes, hair pulled back into a ponytail and arms crossed, emphasized by her tight purple t-shirt.

"don't get distracted, now," a sultry voice whispered from behind you. agatha had teleported, and you were too focused on her arms to notice. "that's rule number one."

you shuddered at the feeling of her hot breath in your ear, but kept your guard up. purple strings began to flow from her fingertips and wrap around you. you swiftly floated up and out of her hold, yellow sparks carrying you across the room.

you landed with a flourish and agatha raised her eyebrows, impressed. she didn't let you rest for more than a second, though, as a blow of her magic struck you right in the chest.

you stumbled back, but quickly retaliated. with a snap of your fingers, agatha was knocked off balance by a burst of yellow. she smirked and waved her palm. but this time, you remembered to block, crossing your arms and projecting a white shield in front of you.

"so you have been listening to me," she cooed, flying toward you and pushing you up against the wall with her magic. "you always seem so preoccupied when i'm teaching you, like your pretty little mind is off somewhere else. tell me, do i scare you?"

the answer was complicated. yes, agatha scared you, but not in an unpleasant way. it was a thrilling kind of fear that left you breathing hard and wanting more.

"no, ma'am," you decided, using her momentary surprise to push back against the magic pinning you to the wall. agatha withdrew.

"hmmm, 'ma'am.' i like the sound of that," she drawled as you awaited her next move. "you're doing well, baby witch, but you forgot one thing."

in a split second, you were lying flat on your back, purple threads binding your hands and feet to the carpet. before you could even attempt to react with magic, agatha was on you. she hovered above your restrained form and leaned in.

"rule number two: protect your mind," her voice above you was the last thing you heard before being plunged into darkness.

---

when you came to a few minutes later, agatha was still on top of you. she wore a coy smile as she watched the purple swirls disappear from your eyes.

"welcome back, sweet daisy," agatha husked. "after reading your mind, it seems like you're not as sweet and pure as i thought."

you struggled against her restraints, but they didn't budge. you were definitely losing the fight, but with the way she was looking at you (like she wanted to ravage you), you didn't much care.

"you wanna know what i saw, pretty girl?" she taunted, and you swallowed thickly but did not respond. "i saw myself on top of you just like this, pumping my fingers inside you while you screamed out for mercy."

well, your secret was out. but agatha didn't seem displeased; on the contrary, she was basking in your humiliation like a true sadist. you felt wetness gathering in your panties at the sight.

"i saw myself bending you over," she continued, using her powers to lift you off the ground and maneuver you so you were bent over the couch. "punishing you for forgetting your spells."

she swatted your ass once, hard, and you whined pathetically.

"i saw you kneeling between my legs," she said, once again manipulating your body into that position. "listening to my directions, being my good girl."

on your knees, you nuzzled agatha's leg in embarrassment, and she stroked your hair. you stayed like that for a minute before agatha lifted you into her lap, spreading your legs wide.

"and i saw you grinding in my lap, squirming and whimpering like a needy whore," she concluded, running her hands up and down your inner thighs as you straddled her. "what do you have to say for yourself, honey?"

you were at a loss for words, now incredibly turned on and burying your face in her neck. her fingers twitched and you were pushed out of your hiding place, her magic forcing you to face her.

"your mind is so dirty. how are you feeling? excited?" before you could respond, she slipped her hand between your legs. she lifted up your skirt and traced your slit over your panties, inhaling sharply when she found them soaked. "oh, you are. you just can't control yourself around me, can you? all hot and bothered. do you need me to take care of you?"

"yes, please," you begged, wiggling impatiently in her arms. tendrils of purple magic snaked around you, tickling your skin and preventing you from moving any more.

"much better," agatha hummed as she restrained you. she laughed seeing your helpless face. "don't pout. i'm going to touch you, make you feel so nice. but you need to sit still and take it like a good girl."

you nodded, and she rewarded you by vanishing your top. she took your breasts in her hands and kneaded them, working her way to your nipples. when she rolled them between her fingers, you yelped.

"shhh, i know, you're so sensitive," she cooed as she toyed with you. "you're in for a treat, babygirl. have you ever used your powers to play with yourself?"

she knew the answer. of course you hadn't. you didn't even know how. but she reveled in the way your face scrunched up in wanton embarrassment at the mention of touching yourself.

"allow me to demonstrate," she said, removing her hands from your nipples and whispering a latin word under her breath. you gasped when a purple buzz settled on your buds, replicating agatha's touch without physical contact. "feels good, hm?"

you merely whined and tried to grind against her, frustrated when you couldn't move an inch. she seemed to know what you needed, though, as your skirt then disappeared in a flash of violet.

"as much as i love that little skirt on you, honey, it's in the way of what i really want to see," agatha drawled, and you held your breath with the anticipation. with no warning, she gently lifted your hips up toward her, leaned down, and latched onto your clit through your panties.

"oh my god!" you moaned as she suckled through the fabric, putting delicious pressure on your bundle of nerves. then she sat up again and returned you to your position on her lap, once again whispering the incantation to continue stimulating your clit.

"i'm flattered, but there's no god here. just me," she smirked, watching you writhe in tortured pleasure. "alright, superstar, you with me? watch this."

she held two of her fingers up to your eye level, and your eyes grew wide as her fingertips lit up. with a predatory grin, she thrusted her fingers upwards, and you felt them inside you. you couldn't suppress your sinful moan.

"don't you see how powerful we are? i'm not even touching you, and you can feel me in your pretty little pussy," she mused, drunk on her power over you. "and if i do this," she curled her fingers just right, and you screamed as she stroked your special spot, "i can feel you squeezing me. like a tiny piece of heaven."

while her fingers continued thrusting and curling, her power pumping in and out of you, she used her other hand to explore every inch of your body. she touched you like you were the most precious work of art, a soft and delicate masterpiece in her arms. her touch and her magic were all over you, and you felt yourself getting close to the edge.

"won't be long now. you're so easy, sweetness," she sang proudly. her free thumb found your clit and rubbed tight circles on it, direct touch compounding the pleasure from her magical suction. not even a minute later, your release swept over you. "there you go."

when you came, agatha lifted the restraints so she could watch your legs shake and your core convulse. she kept pumping her fingers until she heard you whimper helplessly, squirming away from her invisible touch. she then withdrew the magical stimulation and ran her palms up and down your sides to comfort you.

"how was that, sunshine?" she smiled as she checked in with you. you gave her a breathless kiss, pouring all of your passion and admiration for the older woman into her mouth. her eyes sparkled with adoration as she looked at you, fucked out and struggling to stay upright in her lap. she inched closer to whisper against your lips. "i want to fuck you."

you weren't entirely sure what she meant, but you knew from your recent mind-blowing orgasm that anything was possible through magic. you started to get antsy in her lap again. you stood up on shaky legs and started toward the bedroom.

"don't be silly, superstar," agatha laughed as she effortlessly raised you into the air until you were hovering bridal-style in her arms.

agatha swiftly brought you up the stairs and into her bedroom. she laid you down on the bed and nudged your legs apart with her magic before retreating to the closet.

"do you know what this is, princess?" agatha asked, emerging from the closet with a large purple strap-on dildo in hand. you swallowed thickly at the sheer size of it and nodded your head.

"it's a strap-on," you replied sheepishly.

"correct, smart girl. this is a very special strap-on, though. do you know why?"

"no, ma'am."

"well, i want you to think of it as my cock. because when i put on the harness," she snapped her fingers and the strap was secured between her legs, "i can feel everything."

she gave the dildo a few rough strokes and groaned to illustrate her point. you trembled in anticipation. agatha was going to take you with the biggest cock you'd ever seen. and she would be able to feel the warmth, the wetness, the fluttering of your most intimate place with her own flesh. you unconsciously spread your legs wider.

"ready for me?" agatha crawled on top of you and dragged the tip of her cock through your messy folds, getting it lubricated. you nodded tentatively. "i'll be gentle. wouldn't want to break my delicate little flower. at least, not yet."

the second her tip breached your entrance, you inhaled sharply. it was going to be a tight fit, even though you were soaked. agatha recognized your discomfort and leaned down to kiss your lips sweetly. with another latin whisper, you felt those soft kisses all over your body, on every part of you all at once—even your clit. this relaxed you, and agatha gave you a few more inches.

"you're so tight," the older woman breathed, marveling at the sensation of feeling your wet warmth around her. "and all mine, little witch. you'd like to be mine, wouldn't you? i'd dress you every day in those mini skirts and no panties, play with this pussy all day long."

agatha's words worked exactly as she intended. you lost yourself in the hazy fantasy of being hers, and she penetrated you all the way. you both cursed as she bottomed out.

"good girl, taking my cock so well, letting me fill you up. let me just..." she trailed off and pulled out before thrusting back in at a new angle, hitting your g-spot and conjuring stars behind your eyes. "there she is."

once she knew you were okay, agatha seemed to lose the last of her restraint. she fucked you fast and rough, slamming her tip into your sweet spot on every thrust. she forced her cock even deeper by pinning your knees to your chest with her powers. then she snapped her fingers and the suction was back on your clit, only three times more powerful than before.

"come on my cock, y/n," agatha commanded, sending you flying into an orgasm. this one felt different from the first one, like a spark in your core spreading into an uncontrollable fire throughout your body. your legs jerked and your face twisted up, and the sight of you sent agatha over the edge too. you felt her hot release coat your walls, satiating you.

agatha pulled out of you and coaxed you to sit up, at which point you noticed the mess. a glowing purple liquid seeped out from between your legs, and agatha's midsection was dripping with clear liquid... wait, was that glowing too? the yellow aura looked unnatural, almost neon.

"rule number three," agatha chuckled, sensing your confusion. "don't be alarmed when things start glowing. comes with the territory, dear."

"how did that...?" you wondered aloud.

"well, for me it was an artistic choice. some women really enjoy the idea of me coming inside them, so i added a special enchantment to make their dreams come true," she explained. then her face broke into a smug grin. "and you, my darling, you squirted. it's not a magical experience on its own, but apparently it was for you."

your eyes followed her hands as she gestured to the glimmering evidence of your climax.

"have you ever done that before?" she asked while waving her hands in the air. before she finished the sentence, you were both suddenly clean and wearing fresh pajamas, warm like they'd just been in the dryer.

"no," you admitted, still a bit shy after losing control so dramatically. agatha hummed and pulled you close, and you grew drowsy while she cuddled you.

"oh, sweet daisy girl. i still have so much to show you."

[dark-fuckprincess]

Now that the Sisters of Battle codex is on the way. And it looks good I'm suddenly very interested in working on my Sisters of Battle army. Going to use a shrunk down version of the guy above for my Paragon Warsuits. Morven Vahl proxy may have a large crucifix or spear or something badass. Idk. In the past I've toyed around with warsuits being cavalry.

Really been wanting to take my Sisters in a grimdark, conversion heavy direction, taking influence from military, gothic, religious, and Blanch type aesthetics. So I'll need to do some physical kitbashing to make these ladies really sing. Rows of skulls on chain, candles, purity seals, rose thorns, wards, holy texts and banners, clusters of wire peaking out from exposed bits of machinery, hell even a Heretic crucified on the armour are all things I think I'll do. This sort of vibe is a big inspiration

Here's an example of something close to the vibe I'm going for. Still not finished but still pretty proud of this one tbh. Though I wish the red was more vibrant >.> but wow. I really like how it came out. Think I ended up painting the windows orange.

Also looking at basing my ladies better. Thinking some specially designed dirt products will make it look more natural, and probably some ready made tile bases that I can fill in with debris.

Here's an example of my basing now. The stonework I spent a long time making out of cardstock kind of blends in, and while this model is better in terms of contrast, a lot of my infantry is somewhat flat and dark so it needs some lightening.

I just hope I won't be chained to my past. I want to create something new.

[cult-of-the-placeholder]

I have so many bishop thoughts and headcanons in my mind I can't focus on anything else so I'm just gonna regurgitate them here:

- Leshy has whatever the godly equivalent of ADHD. He is chaos incarnate, literally. He is always moving, always fidgeting with things under his cloak, is always pacing around and talks to himself a lot

- Also my man's invented flowers. Plants existed before his birth, of course, but modern day flowers were his creation, plants shaped and crafted to be bowls for the insects to dine from. He looks out for the smallest amongst them, even the most insignificant

- Among the siblings he was the most artistically inclined. He loved to paint, and sculpt, and in fact glass making was a great passion of his alongside gardening. On his 1,000th year anniversary of godhood, he surprised each of his siblings with a stained glass portrait in their temples, depicting each of them in the most significant memory he had of them: for Heket, it was her grandest harvest ritual. For Narinder, the very first sacrifice in his name. For Kallamar, the day he parted the seas to pluck the deepest ocean crystals for a ritual. And for Shamura, their weaving of a Time Tapestry that depicted the future

- Leshy hasn't made a single artistic piece since loding his vision. His crown can show him his surroundings, but it's not the same. Narinder's betrayal drained away his creative spark, and he has no desire to make anymore

- As a frog, Heket is very musically inclined. Before losing her voice, she'd often lead her congregations in the most vibrant hymns and choruses of praise, and in fact composed almost every musical piece that is used to sing glory to their names. She wrote hundreds, thousands, countless songs for her siblings, and her favorite way to funnel devotion was to have her followers sing to her. Wind and string instruments were her favorite, but she could play just about anything

- Even before Narinder's banishment, Heket was a very serious, rather surly individual. It wasn't easy to make her laugh, and in fact only her siblings could, and even then it was an uphill battle. But if they could, she had the deepest, biggest belly laughs, the kind that would leave a person bent over with their arms around their middle, tears of mirth streaming down her face. She hasn't had a good laugh since Narinder was imprisoned, and of course hasn't sung or danced either. Music now just makes her sad, and the sadness makes her angry: she forbids any sort of music in her temple

- Heket mothered/fathered most if not all of the mini-bosses of Anura. Frogs can swap their sex with ease, and she's a goddess: I think she should be able to lay her own eggs or fertilize another's on a whim 😌 each was the strongest child of each clutch, only one selected among hundreds as worthy to serve their mother's temple in lofty positions. Trained and cultivated from the moment of hatching, she is both incredibly proud of and incredibly hard on them, demanding perfection and depthless devotion at all times. Her children give it gladly, for they are so lucky to be in the presence of their mother who is holy

- Before banishment, Narinder was very close to Shamura. They all were, really, but him especially: he shared the eldest's passion for the written word. As a godling he'd so often sneak into Shamura's forbidden library to partake in ancient knowledge and prophecies, though he was of course too young to understand it. He'd often beg Shamura to read to him, and even after outgrowing that need, he'd often seek out his sibling so they could read in amicable silence together, shoulder to shoulder with each holding one side of the book

- As the god of death and the shepherd of souls, he was expected to pass judgements on the deceased, be they blessed or damned. It was a special joy of his, getting his chance to play with the heretics his siblings tortured and sacrificed. They would know no peace, even in death, for daring to go against the Old Faith

- The first time Narinder reversed death and let a mortal walk again was actually his niece: Heket's half-mortal daughter, Zepar. She had been slain tragically by a traitorous dissenter, and the way his sister wailed with grief rattled him to his very core. He didn't even realize death could be undone, he just... grabbed the little one's soul, fixed her body with his power, and breathed life back into her. It was a shock to everyone but especially to him

- Kallamar wasn't always so timid and faint of heart. After Shamura he's the oldest, and his sibling was already an adult when he was born. In comparison, the other 4 were born in relatively short periods of time, close together. Kallamar was kind of their ringleader when they were growing up, and Shamura once remarked it seemed he was, "Born without fear." He was cocky, knowing he was a god and therefore immortal and invulnerable. He wasn't afraid of anything: the entire world was his playground. He led his three youngers siblings on adventures all the time, always dragging them into some mischief or other. He was perhaps the most gullible of the siblings, believing them all to be truly indestructible. Was it any surprise, though? For several hundred thousand years, they were

- When Narinder attacked them all, it basly affected all of them but Kallamar the worst: it was the first time he'd ever truly felt pain, had ever bled, had ever been afraid for his life. Had ever been truly afraid in general. And it deeply scarred him; PTSD left him a husk of his former self. He developed crippling paranoia and anxiety as his mind introduced a slew of previously unconsidered possibilities: if the Red Crown could hurt them, then could anything else? How would he know it was coming? Would he know? Could he? Would... would his other siblings turn on him the same way? He felt horrible for thinking that way, because he trusted and loved them so much, but anxiety cannot be reasoned with. He started to doubt his safety with them, and withdrew into his shell. He stopped speaking to them as much, and whenever they were together he couldn't keep his eyes from starting around nervously. Looking for a trap, looking for a way out, hands subtly shaking and shoulders trembling beneath his robes. It makes him miserable, torments him, because how can he be suspicious of the family he so dearly adores? But Narinder has shattered his ability to trust--once the safest place, their family is no longer an undefeatable bastion and he's riddled with fear because of it

- Kallamar is very hard of hearing even with his crown: it amplifies any and every sound around him so he can always be aware of what's going on. He prefers to be underwater, deep in the Seas of Sorrow, where underwater volcanoes power his forges and he can make his many weapon for defense in peace

- He desperately needs therapy and regularly has night terrors and flashbacks

- Shamura is a prophet, clairvoyance a gift they've always possessed. There are many ways they record the future: in books as written riddles, sometimes as images woven into countless silk threads that make up their webs, and sometimes at their loom. Tapestry weaving takes a long, long time, and is only reserved for the holiest of visions: the birth of their siblings was each recorded in one wuch tapestry millenia before any came to be, and they waited anxiously for the stars to reach the appropriate alignment recorded in the threads

- On the day of Narinder's birth, they recieved a terrible vision, fortelling of the way their baby brother would one day betray them. They tried so hard to stop the prophecy, thinking perhaps it could be foiled with endless love and devotion, but despite their affections Narinder still raised his blades against them. It's a regret that weighs heavy on their mind for all eternity, even though they know there's nothing they could have done

- As the god of war and wisdom they know best to pick their battles, and are sought out for their brilliant mind as often as they are for blessings in battle. Silk Cradle was the origin of ritualistic pit fights, though usually reserved for heretics as a punishment, forced to bludgeon each other to death for the amusement of the faithful before their souls could be passed to Narinder for judgement

- Shamura raised all 4 of the bishops, naturally, and loves their siblings with all their heart. Watching them all grow into fine adults is something they will always take immense pride in. Their greatest wish is that the five of them can be together, for eternity, living in happiness while the mortals worship them and feed them their endless devotion

- Shamura is actually rather vain: they made and designed all of the bishops' robes by hand, spun of their finest silk and embroidered with golden threads. They preen frequently, and thoroughly enjoy bathing in the hot springs. A god must always look their best to inspire and strike awe into the mortals that worship them, no?

- Shamura doesn't need to eat, none of them do, but thoroughly enjoys nothing more than delicately sipping warm blood directly from a sacrifice's veins. In true spider fashion they'll occasionally leave particularly tasty mortals strung up in trapped webs, delightful little bloodbags for them to drink from again later. Sometimes they'll even feed the really yummy ones, just so they'll stay alive longer and keep naturally producing blood

I think that's it for now. Maybe now I can sleep lmao. I love the bishops

[cherrylng]

MUSE Discography 1999 - 2010 [ROCKIN'ON (August 2010)]

MUSE DISCOGRAPHY 1999 - 2010

SHOWBIZ (1999) ■ A towering origin point that strips everything out. I saw them live and interviewed them at the time of their debut. I wasn't convinced at the time that they were going to be as big as they were, but I'm pretty sure I liked their dramatic world a lot. The band's debut album is a sad, full-throttle sound that shows their determination to carry on Radiohead's naivety and Nirvana's violent impulses, as well as the reality of a new generation.

The album is packed with special songs that have been made into singles, such as "Uno", "Cave", "Muscle Museum", "Sunburn" and the ballad "Unintended" which is sung in a very simple sound with acoustic guitars, an approach that is quite rare nowadays. In addition to that, there are also excellent tracks such as "Fillip", which are also on the album, as if they were commonplace. The songs came out of his body one after another, and Matthew must have been swirling with ideas he wanted to sing. It was also a happy encounter with producer John Leckie, who responded quickly. The title 'Showbiz' is also suggestive in hindsight. Not because of its success, but because of its content! It is a masterpiece that deserves to be proud of. (Shunichi Otaka)

RANDOM 1-8 (2000) ■ A project disc filled with sounds that could only have come from the early days of the band. This is an original Japanese project disc, which is quite valuable nowadays. It was made to commemorate the Tou-Mei-Han (Tokyo-Nagoya-Osaka) tour* in 2000 and is already out of print, but it's well worth getting even if it has a bit of a premium. It's basically a collection of singles that were coupled to singles that were never released in Japan, starting with the popular "Host" and "Coma" from "Cave", and it's a shame to miss out on them! The album is packed with numbers that are full of the nuclear impulses of the early days of the band. The songs, such as "Pink Ego Box" from "Muscle Museum", are in a sense so cluttered that it's hard to imagine them in their current incarnation, but that's what makes them so appealing. It is natural that there is a robust aesthetic that comes from meticulous construction down to the smallest detail, but on the other hand, I often have a special feeling for the beauty of disintegration. These various aspects are often felt because of this kind of project.

The slightly eerie "Forced In" from Uno, the grunge-tinged "Agitated", the live "Fillip" and "Do We Need This?", recorded for radio and on-air use, are all songs that I miss now. But now you can listen to it all at once with a sharp sense of sharpness that is nostalgic nowadays. (Shunichi Otaka)

ORIGIN OF SYMMETRY (2001) ■ Origin of Muse Sound Brilliant, spectacular, dramatic, excessive - all of these adjectives are now indispensable when describing their music, and Muse have newly defined "their own characteristics". With this second album, the band shook off the 'Radiohead follower' preconceptions and spells that have haunted them since their early days, and established 'their own sound + view of the universe' at lightning speed. The band's sound was fundamentally dismantled and reconstructed as the ultimate form of 'dense sound' with completely new dynamics, although the same John Leckie was employed again as the producer as on the first album. The album features a grand introduction of graceful, classical piano, pipe organ, synths, strings, etc., intense guitar riffs and distortions that are similar to those in metal, and manic, bewitching, over-dramatic vocals. The rhythmic structure is a cross between high technology and eccentricity. Everything is out of the 'rock view' of the British scene in 2001. In fact, no other new release from a newcomer was so 'heretical' in every sense of the word, and the media reaction at the time was 'stunned'. No one could define the 'unorthodox beauty and talent' produced by this country, and there was virtually no convincing critique. I think it was after this film that we began to see many new media terms such as 'neo-progressive', 'opera rock' and 'space rock'. (Yukiko Kojima)

HULLABALOO SOUNDTRACK (2002) ■ The origin of the spectacle. Released just before the band's global expansion after two original albums, HULLABALOO SOUNDTRACK is a two-disc set that includes disc one of B-sides and disc two of live recordings compiled from live performances in Paris, and is intended for core fans. . However, listening to it again now, it is a real treat (and therefore a great entry point) for Muse, reflecting the band's potential in all its glory. In the B-side collection, elements of experimental and folk can also be heard. However, this is not just an experiment, which is what makes Muse so atypical. The band's anti-sensibility and daring songwriting ability, which was far removed from the impression of being 'Radiohead followers' as it was thought to be at the time, is testament to this. The same can be said for the live recordings, which are not the same as the slapdash worldview of a literary rock band, but are more like a spectacle with a highly dramatic development and entertainment value. The soundtrack functions as a document of the band's eve of further success, as well as a text that reveals the band's true nature. (Mami Hatori)

HULLABALOO -LIVE AT LE ZENITH- PARIS (2002) ■ Muse were no longer just Muse. The DVD of "HAARP" goes without saying that it is the definitive live video of Muse, but this work is also indispensable when looking back on their history. Like the Hullabaloo Soundtrack, disc 1 contains footage from the Paris leg of the band's European tour in autumn 2001 (not the entire show, but a 90-minute selection from the two dates), as well as backstage footage and an introduction to the magazines Muse have appeared on the covers of. Of course, it is their live show from 2001 that is a must-see. Muse's second album, 'Origin of Symmetry', had awakened them both in the studio and on stage, but here they are still young and innocent. Despite this, their performances are already perfected. Of course, there are no flashy stage sets, lasers or visions, as there are now. However, there is already a presentation with a touch of irony, such as Matthew's self confetti, and above all, the performance has been built up to a strong level. Rather than a rare live video from the early days, this film should be seen as a prologue to the myth of Muse up to the present day. (Tomohiro Ogawa)

ABSOLUTION (2003) ■ Liberation from Gravity If I were asked to pick one Muse album, it would be really difficult, but I think I would ultimately choose this one. As Matthew said in an interview, this album, released in 2003, was a stepping stone to a full-fledged foray into the US, and from the tour of this album, the band started playing a completely different class of venue in the US. This led to the tangible result of their next album, which debuted at No. 9 on Billboard.

These classic songs still remain highlights of live performances, including "Apocalypse Please," which achieves an unprecedented scale without any heavy guitar outbursts, "Time Is Running Out", which became one of the most singalong anthems in the Muse song list, and "The Time Is Running Out", "Stockholm Syndrome", with its ultra-technical riff going through multiple transformations, and "Hysteria", where Chris' bass riffs make the ensemble sound like a three-piece. The consistency of Muse's discography is unmistakable. In terms of the band's worldview, Storm Thorgerson of Hipgnosis began to design the jackets from this album, and the motif of the limitless universe further unleashed Muse's excess. This was the start of Muse's second chapter, including expansion into the USA. (Takuya Furukawa)

ABSOLUTION TOUR (2006) ■ All about the formula of the greatest live band of all time. This is the second live video collection of Muse's memorable 2004 shows, focusing on their performance at Glastonbury, a turning point for Muse in the year that earned them the title of "the best live band in the UK this century". This album, which is positioned in the middle of "Hullabaloo" and "HAARP", is also in the middle of Muse's career, and it meticulously records how the band, which was a liberal arts rock band that aimed for European aesthetics and style, acquired a kind of athletic loudness and heaviness and ran on the path to becoming a stadium rock band. The album 'Absolution' and the tour that followed were the catalyst for Muse's jump up from being the lone devil of the scene to a band of a different kind that had a hold on the majority, and the drastic transformation can be instantly understood when watching this film. The film also includes extra performances in Los Angeles and San Diego, as Muse had already made inroads into the US and were now setting their sights on worldwide success. At the time, however, their popularity in Japan was still in its infancy. The Bay NK Hall concert, where empty seats were conspicuous, is probably a lie nowadays. (Shino Kokawa)

BLACK HOLES AND REVELATIONS (2006) ■ The Great Trial. The Beatles, The Stones, The Pistols, The Clash. Britpop, which owed much to these 'great British garage rock archetypes', eventually stalled in the safe zone of self-indulgence. Among the British guitarists who emerged in the late 1990s, Muse were quick to free themselves from the cynicism and disappointment of post-Britpop with their fusion of the beauty of classical arrangements, post-grunge modern heaviness and the restoration of passion. “Absolution”, which saw the band achieve something in terms of pushing the limits of their heavy, vertical-fall dynamics-power trio, was at the same time a milestone towards “The Resistance”, with its expanded vocabulary of synths and rhythms. This album, which lies between the two, is still a transitional period in this sense. Some of the songs in the latter half of the album have a sense of 'treading water', where ideas have not been fully realised or have not yet made the leap from the past, and the overall concept is also uneven. However, the idea of creating depth by integrating and narrowing down the sound, rather than just over-laying it on top of each other, has given a clear and highly finished form to the current live essentials such as "Starlight", "Supermassive Black Hole", "Invincible", and "Knights of Cydonia", with simple song ideas and arrangements (for this band), and has created an opportunity to reach a wider audience. (Mariko Sakamoto)

HAARP (2008) ■ The fight to 'embody all music'. "Knights of Cydonia," "Invincible," "Time Is Running Out": A spectacular sight of the most splendid and excessive art form of the band in the 21st century rock scene becoming "everyone's song" one song at a time. It was, at the same time, the moment when Muse transcended the confines of UK rock to join the list of 'biggest live bands in the world'. The Wembley Arena concert, with "Black Holes and Revelations" fully fleshed out and ready to go, was a spectacle of epic proportions. Even the staggering data of "160,000 people in two days!" seems like mere microscopic noise in front of the dynamic performance of the three and the roaring chorus of the audience in response.

Electro, classical, metal, goth, in short, Muse have taken in the beauty and sharpness of the world and have finally become a huge 'music itself' that covers our sight. From the hybrid sound of "Map of the Problematique" and "Starlight", as well as Matthew’s guitar hero-like appearance in "Stockholm Syndrome", the fighting spirit that seems to embody all of music by themselves is exuded throughout this incredible live masterpiece. (Tomoki Takahashi)

THE RESISTANCE (2009) ■ The pleasure of succumbing to the microcosm of self-reliance. Muse's latest original album at the moment is synonymous with being Muse's strongest and deepest original album at the moment. Muse is a band that has basically devoted their energy only to forward movement without deviating from their own aesthetic, so it is no surprise that the most recent album is the one that is most bursting with Muse-ness. The Resistance, self-produced in their own studio in the ancient Italian capital, is a limitless album in which the microcosm of the three exploded in an isolated environment where there was no outside world to suggest a course correction, only justice. As a result, this 1984-inspired album became Muse's first full-fledged concept album. Borrowing boldly from metal to electro-pop and even Chopin, it became the most varied album in Muse's history. Matthew is reasonably concerned about the world and reasonably proposes a better world through the numbers in this film, but his definition of this 'world' is highly fictional and far removed from what we know of it. But the discrepancy is so great that there is no other way but to give in. This is such an extraordinary album. (Shino Kogawa)

Translator’s Note: “Cherry, how many times are we going to keep reading these discography reviews?” Until there’s no more to be published about it, that’s how!

*A Tou-Mei-Han tour is exactly what it says on the tin, which is a Tokyo-Nagoya-Osaka tour. But in context, this is actually the most common tour circuit route in Japan, done by all artists regardless of whether they’re a local one or an international one. Many artists starting out in Japan tend to use this tour circuit route because all three locations have a large population in the cities, an active nightlife, and numerous music venues for low, middle, and high capacities, so it makes for a budget-friendly choice to the touring artist. With sufficient funds and just a van, one can easily do the tour within less than a week.

[holyshonks]

I don't know you. But you are the only one I follow that I feel somewhat comfortable saying this to, since none of my friends are into halo and I'm only just getting into it-

I only know some of the lore, but imagine if the characters met their old selves, before their "canon events" happen.

Before Atriox loses his planet, or even before he goes against the covenant.

Before Thel gets marked a heretic, and becomes the Arbiter.

Before John gets taken to become a spartan.

Atriox made a mistake, and chose the wrong choice for the sake of his own pride and honor, and the pride and honor of his crew (from what I know from the lore.) Thel made a mistake, and his failure was too grave to be forgiven completely, but without it he would never had gone on the path away from Truth to find actual truth. If John wasn't as good in class, or wasn't as strong, he would have never been taken from his family.

I think it would break them in separate ways.

I think Atriox would break a bit, cause I doubt he'd warn himself. If he did, I don't know if past Atriox would be too stubborn to listen or not.

Thel would break on both ends. Current Thel would be looking at an old pride, a false pride. Past Thel would see a villain he lived to become, instead of dying honorably for the covenant: marked as a heretic, betrayed and killed one of the Prophets, works along side the "demon." Both would probably be too devastated to talk, but for different reasons.

John would probably be the worst though. He would see an innocent child, a human that he couldn't get to be. The kid stolen, not just from his parents, but from himself. He'd probably give a bullshit speech to the kid, saying how he'll grow up to be a hero or something, but internally he would be dying. He could have been normal. He could have been human. Not a soldier, not a spartan, not a beckon of hope. He could have been a kid, with straight As and a good future ahead of him. If the covenant didn't exist, or a different plan of action was taken, John could have had a normal life, started a family of any kind (married, adopted kids, adopted dogs, stayed with college friends, stayed with his parents, etc.) But now he can't, he grew up, and will never be that kid with a bright future ever again. That kid was killed, and in his place, raised a beckon of hope and justice, that didn't have any real choice in rising from his ashes.

Sorry for rambling in your ask box, had no one else to talk to about this idea that has been bugging me since I've been brainstorming about halo-

Thank you for such a thought-provoking ask! I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to share. I’ve tried to give it the consideration it deserves. 

The Human-Covenant war was long, and the characters change a lot (something Halo does well that I take for granted too often). 

I do wonder if Atriox would have done things differently, had he known how far Cortana was willing to go. He’s proud but he’s not a fanatic. He isn’t one to call a bluff without weighing the possibilities. But would he go so far as to tell his old self to back down? Refusing to submit is the foundation of his worldview–he defied the Covenant, an arguably worse, more pervasive threat (at least at the time). I agree that he wouldn’t be able to tell himself to compromise his belief system, because in his mind, it would compromise the principles of the Banished, which are more important than any planet. I think it would hurt him, but he would not do things differently.  

I think Thel would be the only one who might actually try to convince his past self to alter the course of his life. He got a second chance and gives second chances in turn–no one is completely forfeit. It is always worth trying to reach people who have been led astray. But it wouldn’t be for his own sake. While he may believe that he deserved to go through what he did, his morality is more important than penance.  He might do it to lower the death count, not for himself, but for the people whose lives he stole in the furtherance of a lie. Would his past self listen? As you say, probably not–the precise events that opened his eyes were so high stakes, so impossible, that he probably wouldn’t care to listen to a disgraced version of himself. Worse, he might even double-down and cause greater damage in an attempt to course-correct. So he might let the past be the past and focus on the future, as he has been. He is haunted but hopeful–otherwise it's just him and the ghosts. 

Sadly, I actually think John does not have the emotional intelligence to mourn his childhood. One thing I think you’ll notice as you get deeper into the lore is that the Spartan-IIs have a complex, rationalizing relationship with their conscription. Even when offered a look at their personnel files,  Blue Team declines, and the way they seem to rationalize it is that it just does not matter. And, in their shoes, it makes sense. They know the Spartans turned the tide of the war. They know that humanity was doomed without them. So, thank goodness, no? Thank goodness they were kidnapped, thank goodness they were trained and augmented so that they could save their species. Their beliefs are reinforced with every new danger they encounter.  When their origins are thrown back at them, the standard reaction seems to be that it was not ideal but it was necessary. It’s interesting, because it's the type of war crime that they would probably try to stop if it was anyone but the UNSC. 

John logically understands that what Halsey did was wrong. But he does not regret it. He, like her, for so long, believes it was necessary. Even if the Covenant never attacked, the Insurrection was still a looming threat. I think his protective instincts are too all-encompassing. He doesn’t want to be normal. Normal people are helpless. He wants to be strong, because it is the only way to keep people he cares about safe. And even then, he fails sometimes. 

Even harder is admitting to himself that he was abused.  It’s hard to look back on the one life you’ve got and say “this was tragic and horrible”. It’s easier to say “I am doing this because I am needed,” than to say “I am doing this because I am being used.” 

It might be easier for a well-adjusted person, who feels good and hopeful about where their life is going, but John is not that. His most cherished people are missing or dead. He is missing, technically. And he shoulders the blame for every loss. I don’t think he’s done the inner work necessary to acknowledge that growing up normally would have been a good thing. 

And just because I pitch Halo books at every opportunity, the Kilo-Five trilogy tackles a lot of hard topics, including the reality of Spartan-II kidnapping and a Spartan-II who is deeply angry at Catherine Halsey for taking away her childhood. I have my hang-ups about it, but it is brave about challenging the messaging around the Spartans in a way that most Halo novels are not. 

Welcome to Halo!

[carnivalls]

random question but does the world of terras town have any sort of religion

swear i've been sitting on answering this one for literal months now i'm. so sorry! wanted to be in a more tt mood again before replying (i'm still not fully but nostalgia is hitting hard on this friday night. btw).

also yeah! so since tt exists as a refraction (and opposition) of the town right above it, its no surprise that its religion also has similar (and skewed) foundations. considering lev's hometown is largely christian (& catholic), aka structured around a man dying for them, surprise! tt's is all about a woman being killed by them. which actually fits into their general day to day beliefs and attitudes more than you'd think.

so, just as lev's world has Our Lord, tt has Our Lady. and god in their case came from the earths, her divine body both one with the sand and also somehow sleeping deep within it. and in popular mythos, this is how the people of terras also first came to be: chewing and tearing their way free from her flesh, and thus becoming imbued along the way with a small spark of her divinity (aka, their magic). but subsequently, for each new person 'born', god grew weaker, until eventually self preservation rose and she woke up, with the aim to swallow them all back down again and re-become whole. this is the point where the people of terras proceeded to band together and kill her to maintain their lives. bonding activities fr

anyway it's no real surprise that as a result religious virtue in tt is based less around humility and fearing your god, and more about personal pride and surpassing them. terran religion is meant to uplift the self, promote determination and senses of justice, and encourage unity in the face of greater evils, since they are literally all each other have in the middle of this cut off dreambubble wasteland. these beliefs also tie though as to why the council & upper classes in terras generally suppress or hand wave away most religious affairs - last thing they need here is the lower classes to start being like oh shit right, we are so powerful actually, we can take on those corrupt bastards in charge if we all stick together haha!!!. it's not like they'll discriminate or outright prohibit religious displays or holidays, since that tends to only breed fiercer devotion and encourage the unwanted behavior, but for each religious holiday, some other follow up festivity or something will be made to sort of remind people of their power in particular. yk. power that you can actually see and touch and fear. not the general sense of power that allowed us all to hypothetically kill a god once upon a time. so. it's also why they encourage the vitriol and suspicion people in the lower classes have for each other.

unfortunately these attempts have also sort of largely worked, since there is not a lot to be proud of when you're fighting from day to day to survive to the next - or a lot to trust when your neighbor seems keen to stab you in the back. religious people exist in terras, but they're not that frequent (esp amongst The Masses), and are also usually dismissed more as optimists.

anyway past this, there's also some other branches off this primary faith - main sub groups include people who maintain that the Lady willingly let herself be killed instead of being gloriously defeated, and that there is no honor to be found in that kind of victory and that terras town citizens should be repenting for the original sin (sounds more familiar right?) vs people who maintain that the Lady wasn't ever really killed, only pushed back into slumber, and that one day she'll rise again to swallow them all - and that the people of tt must be ready to band together when that happens and truly defeat her for good etc etc. most people in tt find the former group whiny, if not downright heretical if they too are religious (who are you to try and shame us for our proudest and core tenet?), and the second cringe as fuck, plus slightly hererical if we are being picky (the whole point is that she's fucking dead dude).

oh and also there's the breakers. right. forgot about them. they are not connected to religion so much as they are like... the science of terras town, but they're a cult so i guess they sort of count in this section too. basically their full title is the barrier breakers, they think terras and the upper world need to be unified in a great rapture, and that the first sign of this happening will be the two planes 'swapping blood.' & they are going to love lev ❤️

[pumpkinnning]

Could you tell more abour the dutch culture you mentioned?

I thought dutch were more open minded in general, I was not aware of the things you described about masculinity etc

hi anon ! sorry it took me so long to answer, i was really thinking about it for a while

short answer : we elected a far right government recently, so that's that on open mindedness

long answer :

there's several periods in history where the Dutch were more relatively tolerant than the rest of Europe. For instance from about the 16th to 18th century there was a lot less censorship due to less strict printing laws in many Dutch cities, and relatively more religious freedom, and so a lot of writers came as well as persecuted religious minorities, and this made the area, especially around Amsterdam, a hotspot for art culture science philosophy etc etc and a reputation for free thinking at a time where a lot of other countries were busy going to war over religion and burning heretics and their books.

in the 60s and 70s there was a really big and loud counterculture, anarchist, hippie etc movement who inspired a lot of people abroad, and they actually managed to get some political concessions and had a deep impact on the culture of the country, which echoed for a long time. in 2001, the first legally recognized gay marriage took place in Amsterdam and it was long considered one of the biggest safe havens for queer people. we've long had very good social welfare and labor rights compared to a lot of other countries ; i think this is still the country with the best work/life balance in the world.

so it's very much in the Dutch mindset that we consider ourselves tolerant and open minded. unfortunately i think we've been coasting on the accomplishments of the past for a very long time ; stagnating or even going back in many areas. the thing about Dutch tolerance is that it's very based on protestantism and capitalism ; it's like, God has already picked his favorites and we can't do shit about it (but if you're rich it means you've been picked!!!!) ; do what you want as long as you're not bothering me and you can work and turn (me) a profit.

this is less about love of difference and more about indifference and liberalism in the economic sense. there is a kind of small mindedness about a lot of Dutch people where they seem to only care about their little normal lives and routines. people here are obsessed with the word 'normal'. the prime minister once published a letter on an entire page of several national newspapers telling the 'asocials' of the country (in very racially coded terms) to 'be more normal' (big yikes). a lot of Dutch people are proud to be average, normal, ordinary, self-centered, and even for some, ignorant and small minded.

the biggest place where this shows up is when it comes to racism and xenophobia, which brought the current government to power. the country never fully reckoned with its history of colonialism. it's still very proud to have been the 'most powerful nation of the world' at some point - which was really about having a big navy and being able to force non western countries into commerce and acting as a vanguard for colonialism, profit based on mass exploitation and subjugation that fed the so called 'Dutch Golden Age'. today a big part of the country hides behind this reputation for tolerance to avoid looking at the problems of the past and how they still impact the present. it's a very European form of delusion ; we don't talk about racism like in the US so it doesn't exist and meanwhile we put on blackface parades and treat our minorities like garbage all the while feeling very good and self righteous about ourselves. add the Dutch 'we're just a small country uwu' thing and you get what Gloria Wekker calls 'White Innocence' (title of her great book) and it stinks.

i'm harsh because i've been really ashamed to be Dutch lately. of course like any culture it's not a monolith, it has its complexity and subcultures, lots of great people and leftists who aren't afraid to speak truth to power, movements and initiatives to reckon with the past and change this, etc. but this is a big general trend.

and yes it's relatively less sexist than lots of other European countries, but we also had centuries of patriarchy here and that doesn't just vanish ; sexism just takes on different forms depending on culture. often it's about the qualities that a society values most. in the US ideal men are the rugged tough individualistic self made men ; in France where cultural capital is key, men are seen as smart, intellectual, witty, deep and artistic where women are often seen as dumb and frivolous and trivial and lacking taste. In the Netherlands, the key values are being rational, down to earth, direct, profit-driven and unsentimental ; women are often depicted as silly and overly sentimental and inefficient. it's especially considered very manly to be a tactless inconsiderate asshole who speaks his mind without giving a shit about other people's feelings.

so in the end i think this was probably about me saying why, as a (half) Dutch woman, Max Verstappen's whole 'im just a simple down to earth normal guy who is honest and speaking his mind' and 'i'm a super efficient machine who only cares about racing' thing is not charming or cute to me (especially when that narrative is often deployed as a contrast to Lewis.) it doesn't make him a relatable autistic king or whatever ; it's very much rooted in dominant social norms, and it just makes him a very average Dutch dude with all the potential for deep shittiness that implies.

in the end of course this is my opinion and everyone is some level of problematic just for taking part in a deeply corrupt and evil sport. so like. i'm not going after anyone here. but to me this is a good illustration of how a lot of things get lost in translation when you consider everything from a very american-centric or just global internet viewpoint. and giving points to Max just for being Dutch bc that means he must be open minded and tolerant is just. not it.

[tiredassmage]

This isn't really a question, just something to give you an excuse to talk about Leo and Heleda. I miss them.

Literally, anything you want.

klfnadlsk;f I guess I could've used this last night, but I'll finally use it as a jumping-off point. I've had this one sitting for a while because aforementioned business with life and the other interests taking over most of the free brain territory, but since the man, the myth, the goblin is back, let's go!

Heleda's a bit of a quicker one, unfortunately, because she hasn't quite stuck. Which is kind of an ironic theme for me personally; Sith Warrior is still one of my favorite of the class stories, but I think Savosta's the only Warrior I've made that's really stuck with me, and even him I don't talk nearly enough about, though he's also been a bit more on my mind intermittently lately.

I think some of the concepts I intended to put in her were cool. She was my second intention to create more of a "beast master" in the Warrior's role, possibly partially because I do like how it'd theoretically fit with the Tatooine arc in the Warrior's story, and it'd create interesting parallels for someone (me) who likes the hound on a leash motifs you can go with given the Warrior's later role as the Emperor's Wrath.

Since I know this'll be a ramble, I'll put a cut here just to get that out of the way.

So, I don't remember if I ever brought it the blog, but one of Heleda's backstory points was a younger brother that didn't end up being Force-sensitive, but did end up serving in the Reclamation Service, and in that way sought to serve the Sith and still bring honor to his family. Heleda was quite proud of him for this and I imagined they were still fairly close. Heleda always intended to keep a respectfully distant enough, but still protective eye on him. One of her unspoken private goals of rising to what station she may was to be able to guard her brother and make sure he and others like him still had a place in Imperial society.

She's also of the small class of characters I'm slightly mad at (lighthearted and kinda affectionate) for being very cool to me conceptually, but not occupying a lot of my brain, but also having some of the coolest lightsaber assignments out of my characters.

I still haven't really reused this particular saber or color crystal for anyone else because it's still 'Heleda's' trademark in my mind. A neutral color, a gray-toned crystal that was meant to represent her valuing of honor - honoring the pacts made, the services rendered, the power inherent in nature, in the Force, and in each of them - over a dogmatic loyalty to a code. Heleda's probably not someone who would ever leave the Sith for the Jedi, nor would she probably consider leaving for some order in between - short of something born out of necessity like the Eternal Alliance of the KOTXX era, but her and her brother's studies of history and their family's interest in the cultures of the galaxy developed a sense in her that bootcrushing domination was not absolute power in the way many Sith tended to present it.

That all never meant Heleda was any less willing to settle matters with her martial skills, but she needed a better reason to cut a good officer down than 'I am annoyed.' In the long-run, Baras's "ideal" apprentice was probably someone that was somewhere between brute enforcer and cunning enough to be semi-mindful of tactics, but, ideally, wouldn't have been someone that gets ahead of him at his game as the Warrior might. In Heleda's particular case, I don't think she'd anticipate the exact way Baras eventually betrays her and tries to eliminate her, but hearing fairly early on that Baras was likely to only use her as far as she was useful to him was not heretical or unforeseeable - nor did she particularly plan to overtake him in that exact moment. For now, she has her duty and, Force-willing, she'd be able to serve the Empire in the way it needed, when that time would come. But overworrying about it in paranoia would not be productive to her, either. I think of her as a pragmatist.

So, that all said... I have a... fair idea of her in my head, but there's... something kinda missing from the formula that I haven't quite put my finger on. I haven't found quite something to hook me into her motivations and drive me up a wall for them. Further exploration could probably do it, could probably more clearly define her 'why' in a way that'd make it more enjoyable for me, but for now I don't know if I have particular plans to return to her and dig any further with it because I don't think I ever figured out where I wanted her to fit story-wise. She's also... probably generally suffering from my seeming preference for my tech class characters, lol. I think the repeated tracks in how Jedi and Sith characters tend to run sort of wears me out of them a little faster - ground that's already well-paved and well-traveled and all that, which might sound ironic because Star Wars is maybe about the laser sword people for... maybe most Star Wars fans, but... I digress, I think. xD

So! Anyway! Leo! Speaking of my tech classes, lol! Leo, Leo, Leo... I do love Leo... Now, I know there's some common giggles for the smuggler's methodology being kinda fucking around and finding out without finding a single goddamn thing out, but I think... I do really enjoy Leo because he's not... exactly in all of the smuggling business by choice. Leo is both... terribly devoid of confidence in his life, and the kind of character that tends to at least act like things are... alright, at least. He's not at all a plans man. He's not good at plans. Sometimes he'd feel as if he's barely got the week figured out, let alone five or ten years out from now.

And I think maybe especially with given how this year has panned out so far for me, there's maybe something a little comforting in that as well. Like I do love to say he's my disaster, don't get me wrong. It's a lot of his charm to me that I can't emphasize enough that he's... wildly imperfect. And he struggles a lot.

But Leo's like 27 at the beginning of the class stories, if I remember correctly, and life hasn't worked out... really at all how he may have ever planned - not that he was ever a plans man to begin with, again. And... there's something comforting in the potential narrative that it still works out for him in the end, anyway. Because I'm... changing a lot right now, to be brief, lol. I'm looking at changing my entire focus path in life and finally facing the prospect of moving away, of eventually moving out of a job and a job field I've been at for almost five years. Not to be too deep on main, but that can be pretty terrifying sometimes.

And I'm not sure Leo even knows how afraid he is. Of... a lot of things, frankly. In the same briefly aforementioned from an answer or two ago conversation with a friend on Discord, I poked a little at how Leo's... actually kind of afraid of how he got into smuggling in the first place. It wasn't a good deal for him. He fucked around and found out, in the simplest terms. Leo's likely piloting smuggling operations now because he owes the Black Sun. Big. For not knowing how to keep his mouth shut, essentially, on Coruscant. When Leo was first trying to find his feet after Dash helped him defect after Begeren, he picked up sort of whatever odd jobs he could once he sort of found his feet again just so he had any kind of income that might justify him living in Dash's apartment. And that... sorta kinda accidentally-but-not led Leo into picking a few fights sometimes with thugs and gangs in the Lower Levels because Leo, at least, knew which end of a blaster was the barrel a plasma bolt came out of after surviving a couple years of service in the Imperial Army. And the kind of people he tended to be doing odd jobs for were people who didn't have a lot - a lot like himself. People who didn't always know where their next credits were going to come from. People that got caught in the crossfire of a rock and a hard place between a Republic that was maybe a bit too busy to solve their problems without a lot of red tape, and criminal groups like the Black Sun and the Justicars that robbed what little they had left and would call it "security."

The problem is that Leo proved pretty good at getting into shit he didn't belong in and getting into places he didn't belong in - and... arguably, that saved his life. Because rather than kill him for the claimed "losses" and "defamation," he was "offered" the job of smuggling for them. Arm twisted behind his back, really, lest he either get himself killed, or have to fess up to Dash he'd gotten himself in bigger trouble than he could handle himself, or both, or worse. The other problem for Leo is that Dash was rightfully getting called a hero for what happened on Begeren. Dash's got his whole life ahead of him. Leo, on the other hand, has always been particularly skilled at shooting fairly decent chances in both toes like a bad line dance in a backwater cantina.

Which is why Leo is still historically horrendously bad at asking for help. And he'll try every which way to deflect the fact that he probably should - except he's... kinda shit at actually deflecting because it's not that he's exactly a liar, or a decent one, at any rate - not to someone that actually matters to him. Not someone like Dash, whose only ever been good to him, even when Leo can't see the reason why he'd do such a damned thing.

Leo's afraid of his past catching up to him, of the kind of... boogeymanification he's made of word getting back to his father that he's still alive and that he fled to Republic space instead of dying as would've been convenient for a family disgrace like himself. And I'm not sure he's ever been really straight enough with anyone about just how deep he is in how he started smuggling to realize he's scared of that getting him killed sometimes, too.

He's kinda... still gotta figure out that he can get himself out of that kind of cycle. That it is okay, ultimately - that he doesn't need to be so hard on himself. That he both needs to realize he is holding himself to the same standards that hurt him and that he loathes having been set for him by how he grew up, and that he doesn't owe anything to those standards either way. Part of that journey is letting himself love Dash and be true to that, to actually pursue that. But I think he's got a lot left to unpack yet and I think... probably by the end of it, he'll feel he owes an apology to people like Dash and Liv for keeping 'em waiting so long on him to figure it out, and how atrociously stubborn he could be about not getting helped along the way there.

But he's capable of getting there. There's a happy ending in there somewhere for him. And I'm glad to be able to see the journey there.

[guiltywisdom]

Is it okay to help a friend of mine maintain the appearance of being a part of another religion and to pretend to pray to that religion's gods? He was raised in an extremist Hellenic cult and while we're working on an escape plan for him, it is vital no one around him catches on. So we've been lying that I'm interested in Hellenismos and I've had to fake some things in front of his family, as well as help him seem like he's been talking to me just for religious purposes. I feel awful saying things that aren't true and saying the names of these Greek gods as if they're sacred or to be revered. I would feel far worse if I didn't get this guy out of this cult. They believe that - well, it's complicated but based on some obscure Greek myths they believe twins should be together sexually, and his sister is so brainwashed she's all for it. He's not. He's repulsed by it. I've arranged to get him out when he turns 18 in the last week of December - and get him to the safety of his grandparents, over a thousand miles away; thank God my dad is a pilot and has connections in the industry who could make this happen - but until then we need to keep suspicions as low as possible.

I hate saying these awful sacrilegious things. I hate lighting incense and burning offerings and pretending to be something I'm not. It makes me feel sick. I don't know how I'll ever be forgiven for this. But you have to understand, these people are abusive. They've starved him as punishment for resisting doctrine so many times. They want to make him have sex with someone against his will. He doesn't deserve this. I can't let this happen to him.

I've done things I'm not proud of for this. I've said false prayers to gods I don't believe in and had to stand still while his father pulled the cross off my neck and threw it into a fireplace. I feel like a heretic. I feel like I've prioritized someone over God. I have stress nightmares constantly. Am I doing the right thing? Is it alright to do these things? Will God forgive me? What do I have to do to be forgiven for things this terrible?

I can't tell my priest or any of my Orthodox friends. The risk someone will say something and the whole plan will fall apart is too high. Only my dad - I was raised in a single-parent home - knows. I need some kind of guidance. I don't know where to turn.

I'm so sorry for burdening you with all this. I know it's a lot. But I'm out of other options and I trust you. You seem spiritually sound and strong in faith.

I'm sorry this post got lost in my inbox so the reply is late.

I think a lot of people prioritize the idea of outward faith, of showing people, themselves and God that they are faithful in outward ways but this is not the true way of loving God.

Christ said, “whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. (Matthew‬ ‭6:5‬ ‭NRSV-CI).

God sees deep into your heart, he knows what lies there and it cannot be hidden, not on purpose or by this facade you have to engage in. You are doing this out of love and we are told to love our neighbour as ourselves, there is no greater act than that. Saint Maria of Paris said, "We must not allow Christ to be overshadowed by any regulations, any customs, any traditions, any aesthetic considerations or even any piety."

It might sound controversial but I believe that our most important consideration is to be like Christ and that worshipping him is secondary to this. Saint Maria of Paris said, "Piety, piety…but where is the love that moves mountains?"

You are doing such an amazing act out of love, you are helping a friend escape. Saint Maria of Paris also helped people escape, escape from Nazi occupied Paris. Stay strong my sibling in Christ, God knows your heart and that's all that is important here.

[nightmareworks]

hey so i'm gonna talk about the wargame i'm writing

its called DRAGONSMOKE: A Game of Black-Powder Fantasy Battles and is basically my attempt at making a Warhammer that I can more easily share with folks unfamiliar with why my brain clicks into place at the concept of Your Dudes and using a big setting as a springboard.

i'm talking about it rn bc i'm thinking about fantasy worldbuilding and i'm really proud of what i have in it so we're gonna call this the Worldbuilding Post in tagging systems okay? okay. insert a read more here if you remember

The setting of Dragonsmoke is the Known World, which is based on the Mediterranean and near-east of earth in terms of culture, history, and terrain

so the Known World has a bunch of stuff you'd expect from a fantasy wargame that the author has admitted is a Warhammer heartbreaker- we got your invaders serving a dark god, we got your necromancers doin evil stuff, some funny orcs, we got the empire of men, we got some elfs, some dwarfs, yaknow, all the good stuff!

so as you can see most of the map is taken up by the Sultanate of the Dragon, this is the empire of men i mentioned. i like my fantasy a little less grim than warhammer tends to be, so they're all right in general. they're my first of the Good factions as i term them in my writing. the Good Guys of the story, even if they can do wrong and war with each other or just be Dicks, at the end of the day they're gonna usually do the Moral and Honorable thing for the kinds of stories the setting wants to tell. i go through all of this cause, yaknow, empires are bad things, but also i love when the Good King on his Rightful Throne struggles against the impulses of power and does what's best for all the people of the lands. it rules.

anyway that's the basic idea for the Sultan and basically carries over into the rest of the very Ottoman vibe the whole army is meant to give off. The Sultanate is the Son of the Wyrm God, the Emperor Beneath, Last Victor of the Diamachy, Patriarch of Scalekin- a gigantic and truly ancient Dragon that slumbers beneath Truyvillium. It is with the mandate of the Dragon that the Sultan rules, and the Oath of the Sacred Hoard binds the disparate cultures and peoples of the Sultanate. In every human of the Sultanate flows the blood of Dragons, their Oaths becoming scales on their bodies. Such is the way the nobility is given the right to rule- through their scales and their promises and their binding oaths of service to protect and maintain the Sacred Hoard. For the Sacred Hoard is all the Sultanate, every piece of gold and every child born within its borders are the Hoard of the Wyrm God. The most precious treasure of one of the beings who shaped the world when it was young. And so, woe to those who break their faith with the Emperor Below and the House of Ozmani. May their scales fall out. May their ambitions rot. May the Dragon Blood within them catch flame at the Emperor's Ire.

the Sultanate of the Dragon are, in game terms, a host of well trained and equipped mortal men doing their best to protect their homes and livelihoods from the Darkness that threatens the known world, supported by heavy artillery, the dragon-blooded Janissary Corp, auxiliaries from the far reaches of the Sultanate (like the Cynophelli, the Beastmen with the heads of Dogs; and the Men of Blyemmae, the Ogres who are as tall as two men, as strong as ten, and posses a great gnashing second mouth on their stomachs), and the Dragons who answer the ancient oaths betwixt Man and Drake.

so that's the Sultanate, whom i really adore, but there's another human faction! and this one is the Evil one. i don't feel like i really have to explain the ideas behind the Evil factions quite as much as the good ones cause Evil's easy to grasp when you read it so i'm gonna launch into them with a little less preamble

from across the Great Sea, the reavers come bearing their dark miracles- A Heretic's Crusade, lead by knights astride steeds gone mad with fear and clad in enchanted armor that refuses to let them die. In the wake of their charges follow the Sinners-at-Arms and those blessed and damned by That Miracle's touch. They have come from the Blessed Lands at the order of the Holy See of That Wretched Miracle, to burn the Known World and pick through the ashes for whatever their wicked masters desire- all to bring That Miracle into this world. The Crusaders are just that- Crusaders. A roving army of murderers warped by the attention and touch of That Miracle, bound together in their Dogma and their twisted Faith.

in general the Heretic's Crusade has a bit less to say about it than the Sultanate bc, well, they're the Chaos Warriors- servants of Evil, come to despoil and burn. Its very straightforward! they're from fantasy italy (which they ruined) and focus on having heavier cavalry than everyone else. the Crusaders on their horses (or on foot sometimes) make up the core of the army, supported in the wings by the twisted porcelain angels of That Miracle, the enslaved footsoldiers they brought with them, and the occasional dark theologian capable of speaking the foul un-words of That Wretched Miracle. i love my bad guys cause they're just the worst, and sometimes you want Just The Worst. and what's The Worst more than catholic legalists who are capable of a lot of murder? not much!

so that's where we leave off for the human factions and i'm tired of typing so we're gonna call this done and post it and next time talk about the dwarfs (sexually dimorphic elementals who invented socialism recently) and orcs (a kind of youkai)

[meritatem]

The thing about the kind of life that Bruce roped his family into is that there was no time to just stop and grieve.

His father never stopped not because he didn't grieve, but because grieving is all he did and from there he took the motivation to be able keep going forward. Damian understood that aspect of him better now, it was what keep him alive the years it took him to figure out a way to come back.

But even with all of that, he wasn't like his father, not truly.

The day after Damian had to let go the only real opportunity he had to connect him with Dick, Alfred informed him in the middle of breakfast that they would be relocating to the penthouse. Damian talked about the practicality of it all with disinterest, acting like this was just another normal day for him but when he was done eating, instead of following his usual routine, he decided to go to a place in the Wayne Estate where he hadn't been in a long time.

That's how he found himself in front of Thomas and Martha's tombstones.

“Grandfather, grandmother, I'm sorry for not visiting sooner. As you can assume, things are a bit hectic at the moment.”

He always liked the family cemetery, it was peaceful and the trees surrounding it were the perfect home for a small variety of birds; Damian usually went there to see his grandparents' gravestones and share his many complaints about his father, because if someone needed to hear Bruce's less than stellar traits, surely would be his own parents. He also liked to go there to just relax under the shadow of a tree, drawing in his sketchbook or reading a book.

And even if later the cemetery became a place he usually saw a lot in his nightmares, Damian still held appreciation for it.

“I thought it was right to inform you that we are moving to the penthouse in the Wayne Foundation Building, but I'll make time to visit so you won't be lonely.”

He didn't mean for his own words to evoke past memories, so short-lived in the mess that was his mind but he could still remember Thomas' firm hand on his shoulder and the proud look in his eyes; Martha's sweet voice and her warm arms around him.

Damian wasn't sure what possessed him to do what he did next, but he took a couple of steps back and turned around, putting his hands over where his diaphragm was and just let himself fall, right between his grandparents graves. He didn't even wince when he hit the ground, not only because he knew how to fall but because there were worse surfaces to hit than grass.

The weather was pleasantly mild and the sky was bright without a single cloud in sight. It was such a nice day to laid with the dead.

Damian closed his eyes and thought about coffins and burials, about his former grave in this same cemetery: a destroyed headstone, an empty hole in the ground and no memories of being in his own casket. Contrarily to that, he remember what it was like to be buried alive and forced to escape under one of the many trails of the League; remembered the stone sarcophagus where Deathwing trapped him into and the pain of breaking the lid with his own forehead to escape; he remembered battling reanimated corpses in some of Gotham's catacombs during his nightmarish time as Batman, only to escape as he blew everything to make his own exit.

He remembered being ten and waking up in Hell after his fight against The Heretic. He remembered being dead and escaping it.

Damian spent years thinking about who he really was, if he was just condemned to be forever in-between whatever his parents wanted him to be and somehow always failing them both. But right now, at that instant, surrounded by dead relatives he never met and with his grandparents tombstones looming over him, it was never been clearer who he was.

Damian was a survivor.

He was still here.

Even when he knew Damian was waiting for him - after all it was Alfred the one that informed him that the kid was “requesting” his presence -, Dick still froze a little when he saw the Batcomputer's chair rotate with Damian in it, looking like a little villain in a spy's movie: elbows over the chair's arms, hands almost up to his face with just the tip of each finger making contact with its opposite.

“Grayson,” he said, while inclining his head in greeting. “I've been waiting for you.”

Of course Damian knew what kind of impression he was giving and he would've considered, in any other occasion, to keep with the act just to see Grayson's reaction for his own amusement but he had to be quick in case Drake chose to come down earlier than usual, because he wasn't in the mood to deal with him today.

“Sit down,” he ordered before vacating the seat with a jump. “I need to show you something before I go.”

Grayson raised his eyebrows with a somewhat doubtful look. “Hello to you too, Damian,” to his credit, he did sat in the chair without resistance. “What's this about?”

Damian didn't respond immediately, choosing to move in front to the computer's panel. “Pennyworth told me we're changing headquarters, is a smart move, being in the city will be beneficial for our response time.”

Dick resisted to urge to disagree because that wasn't the reason, but he didn't think it was a good idea if he started to talk about his insecurities about the cowl.

“Let me finish explain first and then you can ask questions.” A schematic showing the design of a Batman suit appeared on the center screen. “I'm sure you have something in mind for your suit but I want to submit this for your consideration, I designed it to appeal to your strengths so is built around mobility, although I have to admit is not as good as the Nightwing suit in that aspect.” He typed a couple of times and various parts of the suit with their corresponding annotations were highlighted on the screen. “As you can see here, I considered additional protection for your weaker spots.” The next thing he showed on the screen was something Dick hadn't expected to see in relation to Batman: his escrima sticks and two different ways to be incorporated in the suit. “You're very proficient with these. I know you can't add them to Batman's fighting style so soon after being absent but maybe in the future you'll want to use them again after you're settled. I'll leave the complete blueprints at your disposition, maybe you'll find use for something in there.”

Damian would like to say that this simplified description of his work was for Grayson's benefit, who once told him sometimes simpler explanations were best, but truthfully it was for his own, because he wanted to get over with this as soon as possible as to no dwell too much in what all of this really meant for him, especially when the next schematic he showed in the monitor was of his Batmobile, because even if the design was his father's, Damian had been the one who adapted it and made it work.  

“Father was working on a flying Batmobile, I know you'll have doubts but I assure you, I'm capable of making this a reality. Or in terms you'll understand,” and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. “This is the equivalent of a Lego set for me. I'll start working on this tomorrow, if I can't finish before we move I'll do it once we're in the bunker.” Damian turned, taking a couple of steps away to give Dick room to rotate the chair and put his hands behind his back with certain solemnity. “Well then, that's all. Do you have any questions?”

Whatever he was expecting, it certainly wasn't for Dick to look at him with bewilderment, like Damian was speaking this entire time in a language he didn't understand. “I, ah, how,” seeing Grayson's flounder for words was less funny when the only thing Damian wanted at the moment was to go away. “Alfred just told you today.” He finally managed to say. “I know Bruce is your dad but this is ridiculous.”

In the past any comparison with his father would make Damian proud, even when it was in a negative context, but now... now it just felt meaningless. “Don't be dense, Grayson, I started working on this a couple of days after I got here.”

Dick ran one hand through his hair, still looking at Damian like he was being odd. “Why?”

Considering that Damian was giving up something he deeply cherished - his place as Grayson's Robin -, he allowed himself a moment of weakness, so he slowly extended his right arm and brought his hand closer to Dick's face. It was a bittersweet feeling when Grayson didn't flinch, so unlike the first few days when his guard was always up in Damian's proximity.

“I always knew you would be Batman.” He gave him enough time to react, but when Dick didn't move, Damian very gently flicked his forehead. “That's the kind of fool you are.”

His Richard would've been static at such display of childish antics, but this Grayson kept unmoving, still looking at him mystified but at least that made it easier for Damian to just back away, ready to finally go away and pretend he could leave all of this behind but he barely took a few steps when Dick sprung on his feet, reaching with this hand in Damian's direction, like he was trying to get a hold of him.

“No, Damian, wait, wait.” The urgency in Dick's voice made Damian frown in confusion so he turned in time to see Dick embarrassedly withdraw his hand. “Just give me a second.”

Damian knew well enough what a troubled Grayson looked like, so he waited for him to collect his thoughts. For some reason Dick decided that his next point would be best given if he walked the steps separating him from Damian to then kneel in front of him to put himself to his level. Damian had never been a fan of this particular practice because as a child it didn't make him feel in equal standing but patronized instead, sadly Dick didn't have a way to know that, so he would excuse him this time.

“I don't want you to think I'm not grateful, I am. But I want you to understand that you don't have to do this, I know Alfred said that thing about earning your keep but we're not going to withhold necessities or give you punishments if you don't want to do any of this vigilante stuff.” And he shook his head a little with frustration. “Hell, you're ten, you definitely shouldn't be doing any of this,” and at Damian's deep scowl, he raised both of his hands in a peace gesture. “I know you are capable but what I'm trying to say is that you can stop, you're not in the League, you don't have to earn the right to stay here or prove anything to us.”

Instead of a sigh, Damian pinched the bridge of his nose.

Seriously, these damn people. Why everybody in this cursed mansion was so bent on in making Damian's life more difficult? Why every time he tried to do something, no one could just go along with it? Was a "you made a reasonable point Damian, you can go now" really that hard to say? No, they had to ask questions or throw accusations or make assumptions. Damian was so tired of dealing with feelings - his and everyone else's -, even when they were positive, because he had to admit it was agreeable seeing Dick worrying about him, even if it was the result of a moral obligation and nothing else.

“Grayson,” he said with the same intone of a tired parent. “Your concern is noted but unnecessary, now that my life is free of my mother's control I want for my decisions to be respected and my judgement to be trusted.”

Standing there in his league uniform, hood pulled over his head and domino mask on, Damian looked like the epitome of composure and how tragic that was? With everything that was happening, the ten-year-old was the only one in the house to have it all together and that was the crux of the matter, because it was easy to forget that Damian was a child even with his small size, his squeaky voice and his round cheeks.

What the League did to him was something Dick would never be able to erase and the most humane thing he could do for Damian was to keep him away from this lifestyle. It would be simple to argue he was just a child, abused and brainwashed and thus unable to know what was the best for him, but to do so would not only be a complete disregard of Damian's intellect, the pain he went through at the League's hands and negate his newfound autonomy too.

Dick wished things were as simple as to being white and black but there wasn't a right answer for this situation, only something akin to choosing the lesser evil and whatever that ends looking up like, he could only hope that at the end of everything, it was the best choice for Damian.

Dick decided to stand up, having the unexpected urge to hug him but knowing it was something Damian wouldn't appreciate. “I meant it, Damian, you can stop any time you want.” He insisted more softly. “As long as you want it you'll always have a place here, it doesn't depend in your willingness to help us fight crime.”

“I understood the first time, the repetition is redundant not reassuring.” 

Dick chuckled and resisted the urge to ruffle Damian's hair because he knew that would be unwelcomed too. “Sometimes redundancy is good.”

“If you have poor attention span.”

“Maybe you should tell me things twice just to be safe.” All he got from his attempt at humor was an unimpressed look but even that was good enough answer. “I'm going to be honest, I'm not really sure where we stand with each other but I want to make clear that Alfred is not the only one you can talk to, whatever this is we're doing, we're in it together and I'm here if you need me, even if I haven't done a great job at showing it these past weeks.”

Damian allowed himself to clench his jaw and grind his teeth slightly before forcing himself to relax, hoping the sudden tension in his body hadn't been too obvious. “Is too early to be this sentimental, you don't even know me.”

“I know but I want to, if that's alright with you, I mean, even if we're not Batman and Robin, we're still a team.”

At this point Damian will have to force his departure, because he didn't want to end up with Grayson proposing arbitrary things like playdates in the name of getting to know him better, so he just threw a dismissing gesture with his hand. “If by that you mean I'm going to closely supervise your performance as Batman, sure. Now, if you excuse me, I've got places to be.”

And without a second glance he finally turned around and literally ran off, completely ignoring Dick's new pleas to wait. Such behavior mas so uncharacteristic of him but it didn't matter because no one had memories of the person he used to be, and Damian had enough of this heart-to-heart nonsense for the night... no, not just for the night, the week, the month, the rest of the year, even!

The next day he intentionally oversleep. He woke up on his own roughly at the time he had to and decided it wasn't worth it, so he fought with himself to get back to sleep. He deserved a break before moving forward with the next step of his plan; that was another conversation he needed to have, but one that was so complex it would make his most recent encounter with Drake pale, but unlike him or Grayson, the person he needed to talk to had proven to be the most reasonable man Damian had the honor of conversing with. So, hours later when Alfred - naturally worried by his absence - came to his room, he found him still in bed, even though he had woken up as soon as he heard him in the hallway, no matter how quiet the butler had tried to be.

“Good afternoon, Master Damian,” Alfred said even when it was barely past nine. “Are you feeling unwell?” He added at Damian's lack of response.

Damian would've love to say that in fact, yes, he had been feeling unwell for the past few years, thank you for asking, but instead he pushed the covers aside and sat on the bed looking at the floor for a few seconds like he could find answers in it.

Time and time again, people, circumstances and the world he was born into disappointed him in ways he could never voice and even when things became sour between them at Damian's own actions, Alfred never became one of those disappointments.  

“Pennyworth,” he finally said and waited a moment before turning his gaze to look at him with absolute resolution. “I need your discretion and your help.” He got up, back firmly straightened and closed fists at his sides. “There's something you should know.”

⪻Chapter 5

Chapter 7⪼

[dnangelic]

@cryopathiic asked: what are you?

' are you really that curious ? '

he doesn't believe it ; doesn't lend even a meager ounce of his cynical faith or misanthropic respect to any part of this so-called bodhisattva , this black-winged angel already a rebel and despicable heretic amongst his own true kind and every one of their gods . he knows that anything he says could be violently wielded against him , ( or if not himself , than his oblivious and vulnerable , all-too-innocent other , ) but the predatory cuts of his eyes and the sharp teeth jutting from his lip was no doubt an awfully familiar sight , wasn't that so ? more than enough to make him a puzzling enigma to any demonic witness , and the great phantom thief enjoyed it ; mystery and intrigue , now , he could always manipulate in ways just as masterful as this earnest liar before him .

' i'm dark , ' a hand sets on his chest in a proud show of self-introduction . he twists what into who ; changes what he can't into what sort of manufactured self he's chosen and decided at least two thousand years ago . ' i'm a phantom thief . i steal . '

and for anybody , that alone should have been brazenly admitted answer enough .

it didn't matter what else he might have been ; this was a den of monsters , wasn't it ? a depraved martial artist in one twisted corner , a sniveling coward in another , a convincing cultist decorated in perpetual blood , guts , and rainbows , each and every one of these demons commandeered by the world's most pathetic , yet pitifully sympathetic creature of them all merely trying to escape their own human mortality . the great phantom thief wasn't unused to these miserable sorts and their various sins , though his hidden conscience , a treasured tender-heart took every opportunity to arrogantly pity and sneer at them when it could . when he wasn't grimly entertained then he was disgusted , gruesomely reminded of himself and his own isolating revulsions , knowing acutely enough that in the eyes of what was truly human , he was surely just as monstrous .

--- but , well , that didn't matter here .

' usually , my reputation precedes me . just like yours , ' the crimsons of his eyes flash , a little too knowing for anyone's allotted comforts . ' you are quite loved ... by your following . that's why , i'm sure you can understand , right ? you're someone who's supposed to happily give , and i'm someone who happily takes . if you really want to know anything more abut me , then you'd better be ready to talk , and at least tell me an interesting story . ' he wouldn't accept anything else ; no trade , no bargain , for anything as priceless and his whos and whats .

[interlagosed]

hibiscus-vroom -> interlagosed/carletes

Hello new and old friends alike!! Please see this regularly updated one-stop shop for frequently used tags, links to fics, headcanons, etc :) Here's my about, here's faqs, here's my list of ships/favs.

Note: I'm on a semi-hiatus from writing between finishing up law school and being pregnant because of raising a newborn baby/job hunting. I'll still upload the occasional ficlet/carlando headcanon under the hibi writes or carlando headcanons tags!

Here for Carlando fics? See below for links and summaries to stories I've put up on AO3. Each AU has a corresponding tumblr tag!

a world alone series

Ongoing, mostly canon-compliant, established Carlando au that begins in Sochi 2021. my "canon" series; untagged headcanons are usually set in a world alone.

"From their first meeting at the end of 2018, through their years together at McLaren, through divergent career paths, through blossoming love and love solidified, Lando and Carlos always felt that they had something special. It turns out, they were right; and it was the world that needed to catch up."

TAG HERE for TONS more headcanons.

¡Revolución!

My magnum opus. Complete.

"19-year-old Lando Norris, originally from the Kingdom of Anglosax, decides to pursue his undergraduate degree at the State University of Hiberia. There, he strikes up a relationship with a 25-year old Hiberian man, Carlos Sainz. Carlos is beautiful, kind, and deeply passionate about the Hiberian people and their struggles. Though Lando knows very little about he wants out of life, he knows one thing: he desperately wants Carlos. But against the backdrop of an increasingly tumultuous political situation in Hiberia, will Lando be brave enough to open his heart to all of Carlos?"

the shadow of radiance

Medieval knights AU. Complete.

"No one expected Galla, protector state of the Holy Principality of Seuloger, to turn heretic in such a violent way. After several years of Galla-stoked hostilities short of war, Anglosax and Hiberia set aside their differences in favor of a grand alliance to return Il Predestinato, Charles of House Leclerc, back to his rightful and Goddess-ordained throne. Years later, as a gesture of goodwill, Hiberia sends several of its squires to Fort Silverstone, where Anglosax's finest pages and squires learn to become fierce knights. Squire Lando of Norris, loyal to Anglosax beyond words, must contend with his own distrust of the leader of this Hiberian contingent - Prince Carlos the Younger of Sainz, a newly minted and already-decorated Knight of Hiberia. Prince Carlos is immensely talented, kind, suspiciously handsome, and seemingly dedicated to this alliance. But Lando isn't buying any of it - for the sake of Anglosax. Allegedly."

how good it feels to be needed

Long one-shot, slow-burn.

"Carlos Sainz is a personal chef who finds himself hired by Lando Norris, a young millionaire and CEO of Quadrant Design and Product Development. Lando is also, as it turns out, too busy to remember to eat, let alone cook. Over the course of nine months, Carlos' affection for Lando - his client and boss, technically - grows immeasurably, and perhaps to Carlos' own detriment."

proof

One-shot, first-time.

Lando and Carlos get high in their first off-season period as teammates, and Lando lets slip that people seem to think they must be having sex, given how close they are. Carlos takes that as a dare. And Lando is not one to back down.

once more to see you

One-shot, slow-burn.

“Lando Norris - proud hater of all things change - has never been one to take leaps of faith. But when he decides to move to Vitulia on a whim and beg master sculptor Lewis Hamilton to take him on as an apprentice, he finds it harder and harder to not take leaps of faith - particularly once he meets the owner of a new perfumery, Carlos Sainz. Except Lando doesn't know a word of Vitulian, and Carlos doesn't know a word of Anglo. Fuck.”

what becomes a tempest

Magical, dark academia au. Ongoing, on hiatus!

"Lando Norris worked hard to get into one of the best casting schools in the world, in the hopes that he would learn how to control, and how to use his wild magic. What he did not expect was to be roomed with the scion of the Sainz family, a famous, ancient casting family. And while he eventually grows to like Carlos, despite his own inherent crackliness, there's something about Carlos that feels off..."

beneath his boughs

One-shot.

"Carlos Sainz, conductor of the Royal Ballet Company's orchestra, loves his job. When the Company's principal dancer announces his sudden departure, Carlos doesn't see why it ought to affect his work.

Until he actually meets the new principal dancer. And his world reels."

[selfships-in-spanish]

Okay I can finally post about this AU me and @spirit-in-the-library have been working on like two cackling and scheming gremlins ❤

Who is ready for an Arranged Marriage!AU? :D This is gonna be a wild ride.

This is an idea I originally had for Ona and Connor but it didn't quite fit in what I had in mind, so I left it until I could find how to make it work. Then Eva and Erwin came and it clicked together perfectly 👌So, me and my friend @spirit-in-the-library humbly present this AU!

We got Erwin, Eva, Freyja (her OC, a total badass and I love her) and Levi all suited up for this adventure. I'll put a read more!

Eva comes from the kingdom of Gottesreich, a heavily religious and conservative kingdom where its King is always looking to expand territory and gain power, as well as bring the true word of God to the less advanced territories (he's a fucking asshole). It's a patriarchal monotheistic religion culture and kingdom, and definitely has some Adam and Eve-style enforced gender dynamics ingrained into the culture.

This reflects heavily whenever she is in front of other men and also of high status; she never speaks, only if asked and even in such situations she's afraid to give her opinion, conditioned to not do that by her father. To their eyes, Eva is the perfect Princess, her strict governess and her own father made sure of that. She knows how to act, what to say, what not to say, how to elegantly walk and bow, even has diplomatic knowledge, since she travelled quite often with her brothers when they had to do their own diplomatic missions. She's the perfect asset to any Kingdom and her father knows it pretty well, she's valuable and he has to gain something big in return of trading her.

So, this leaves Eva who has practically no self-steem or sees her own value but to be a bargaining chip, and it's heartbreaking. When Erwin sees her and gets to know her a little bit better, he knows she has a curious and inquisitive mind too, her eyes shine with intelligence when she thinks no-one is looking. She has a lot to say on her mind but years of toxic parenthood and the Kingdom's twisted values makes her keep her mouth shut, head bowed down.

The cultural shock between Eva's culture and Erwin's tribe renders Eva speechless. Men and women are equal, women can do whatever they want, can be warriors, and also worship three benevolent Goddesses (Maria, Rose and Sina), deeply respect nature and try to maintain balance and harmony the best of their capabilities. Eva's mind is blown.

Erwin is the Chief of the proud Warriors of Eldia, often labelled as demons by their enemies who have faced them in battle. They are depicted as blood-thirsty horned devils who have no mercy, when this couldn't be farther from the truth. Erwin is proud of his people, so he's the perfect example of the true poise and demeanour of a proud warrior. Kind of following the canon, he's extremely intelligent and clever, respected by his warriors and people, and is always scheming huge and even intricate plans, making his famous big gambles (like making an alliance with Eva's brother's to help them overthrow their corrupt father and keep their sister safe under the pretence of a marriage ;D). People often think Eldia is only a tribe of savages, but they couldn't be more wrong about it. They want to be left in peace and do their thing without being bothered.

He makes a personal vow to bring Eva to her fullest self, angry at the way they wilted a beautiful flower from its full bloom. Erwin acknowledges her intelligence and vehemently wants to know her opinion on things, strategies and the village's concerns.

Still with the Eldians, Levi is Erwin's right hand man, the second in command, and is not afraid to speak his mind and call on Erwin's bullshit quite often. He's crass and harsh, but deeply cares for the tribe and its people. He is small compared to other Eldian males, but he compensates with a sturdy body and almost insane reflexes and agility. He's fast, precise and terrifying with a sword. He makes a perfect assassin if needed, but also a fearsome warrior that has nothing to envy the big bulls they have in their army as soldiers.

He is also in charge of training troops, and often barks at the brats (the 104th) to stop being idiots and train like Maria is on their asses.

And at last, Freyja! Gottesreich decided to expand territory and colonise and annex the neighbouring villages and small kingdoms, and one of them was Freyja's one. She survived and fled, ending up as a refugee at the tribe of warriors of Eldia where they gave her food and a roof, but not after Erwin pulling strings to keep her head on her shoulders; he recognised her value as a warrior herself after taking down several of his men, and it would be a pity to lose such an asset. Freyja is terrifyingly good when teamed up with Levi, although they bicker and bite at each other constantly.

But she won't forget the absolute massacre carried on her people because Eva's father deemed heretics those who wouldn't convert. So, she's quite bitter towards Eva, and refuses to be her bodyguard and teacher of Eldia's culture and language when she is appointed as such by Erwin. They start a very rocky path but they become inseparable at the end.

WHEW CONGRATS ON FINISHING READING ALL THIS! We got many things planned and I'm already writing things 👀

I hope you like it!

Enjoy! :D