#WHO IS PRESENT FOR SOME REASON BEYOND MY COMPREHENSION

[sserpente]

The Devil's Prized Possession

Synopsis: You are Raphael's warlock and tasked with the most difficult mission: Retrieve the Crown of Karsus from the clutches of Enver Gortash. Remember, Raphael does not take kindly to failure. But do him proud and he will reward you for your troubles. As it turns out, he's been particularly eager to introduce you to a certain Incubus for a while now...

A/N: During my 5th run doing the House of Hope I had the most devilish and filthiest idea for a Raphael fic…so here we go! ;)

Words: 3637 Warnings: smut, smut, smut, blood, injuries, violence, voyeurism/exhibitionism, mentions of suicide and rape (past events), and um… incubus?

“My, my…look at how diligent my little warlock has become.”

You breathed out, the grip around your dagger loosening. You were covered in sweat, your damp training clothes sticking to you like a second skin. There was a mirror in the corner a few feet away from where you’d put the training dummy—a straw sack dressed in leather armour. Your cheeks were flushed, your hair greasy. In short, you were in no way presentable to receive your devilish patron.

You flipped around, facing Raphael with his hands clasped behind his back and a sly smile on his lips.

“Do you ever use doors? And knock? Like a normal person?”

“Oh but I am far from a normal person, am I not?”

You sighed. “I remember. That’s how I ended up in this situation in the first place. Why are you here?”

“Why am I here? Can a devil not check in on his little…protégée?”

You scoffed. “Come now, Raphael. I know you better than that. What do you want?”

“Very well. Let us cut to the chase. I have a mission for you.”

“A mission?” You frowned, removing the gloves you had been wearing to protect your knuckles. “For me? Does Korilla have annual leave?” you joked.

“I did not ask Korilla, I am asking you.”

You crossed your arms before your chest when he stalked closer, his eyes fixed on your form, observing every little movement you made. “Running errands for you was not part of our deal, Raphael.”

“Then perhaps you will be interested if I tell you what’s in it for you?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“Why, power, of course, my dear. What do you know of the crown of Karsus?”

Power? To hunt down the remaining thugs who’d stolen your life? “I’m listening.”

He followed you over to your small kitchen area. You kept some good wine hidden away in a cupboard for the sole purpose of his visits. Your life in Baldur’s Gate wasn’t exactly a luxurious one. When Raphael stepped into your life and you became a Warlock to take revenge on your family’s murderers and your rapist, he’d saved you from a dark pit you feared you’d never be able to get out of. You’d been close to suicide when he found you and offered you a way out. You didn’t regret it, didn’t regret the power his devilish abilities trickled into your very blood to give you abilities beyond your comprehension. Raphael was the reason you were still alive. All he had asked for in return was your soul—forever a guest in his House of Hope.

Raphael sat down at your mangled table. If he was disgusted by the leftovers of your breakfast and the dirty dishes, he hid it well.

You poured him a glass and set it before him on the wooden surface before sitting down opposite him.

“I assume you know the story of Karsus?”

You nodded. “Who doesn’t?”

“Then you’ll know what a powerful artefact the crown is. And I want it.”

“Well, where is it right now?” you asked, seemingly unaffected by his words. You knew better than to question him. You didn’t give a shit about this world anymore. If he decided to take over, at least you knew he’d make the sinners suffer, simply by seducing them into agreeing to a deal with him that they could not refuse.

“It was stolen, my dear. Stolen by someone you know all too well. It was our self-proclaimed saviour of Baldur’s Gate, Lord Enver Gortash. I hear he is up for archduke now.”

You frowned. “Why would Gortash steal the crown of Karsus?”

“Why would anyone? The crown in the hands of this Banite tyrant will bring ruin to the city, to the whole of Faerûn. I intend to save it. I want the crown,” he repeated.

“Wait. Did you say Banite? Enver Gortash is a Banite? Really?”

“The crown, dear. We were talking about the crown.”

“Alright, alright. So what do you want me to do?”

“Oh, it’s quite simple, actually.” He leaned back and smirked. “I want you to retrieve it for me.”

“And steal from the future archduke?”

“You are skilled in stealth. You will find a way.”

“Why me? Why not Korilla?”

“Korilla has been tasked with…some other business of mine.”

You blinked, considering his offer. “I still fail to see what’s in it for me.”

“The crown of Karsus will allow me to become the archdevil supreme. The most powerful devil in existence. Legions will bow to me and follow my command and the hells…will be mine. And you shall become the most powerful warlock any devil has ever taken under their wing.”

“Those were a lot of ‘most powerfuls’ in one sentence. But fine. I bite.”

“Excellent.” He waved his hand and out of a mist of smoke and sparks, a roll of parchment appeared. “Here is all you need to know to infiltrate Wyrm’s Rock. I expect results within a fortnight. Do not disappoint me, little mouse.”

He was gone before you could respond, his glass of wine left untouched.

Stupid, handsome devil. Stupid, stupid Banites! You should never have agreed to this. How could you have known that they would start a bloody cult directly at Wyrm’s Rock? Who could have known that they would, instead of questioning you, send you to the prisons to have you executed the next day? Raphael. Raphael could have known. You scoffed. That damn devil. He’d never elaborated on the consequences if you failed but knowing him, it couldn’t be good.

But then again…you’d already promised him your soul in return for your powers, so what else could he possibly take from you now? You were of little use as a lemur, after all.

If you ever made it out of here, at least you wouldn’t return completely empty-handed, you thought, as you played with the loose straws of hey on the dirty ground. You’d found out a great deal about Gortash’s plans. And he wasn’t operating alone, either. He had both the Chosen of Bhaal and the Chosen of Myrkul by his side.

You’d always known Gortash to be a bit shady but this form of evil was on another level entirely, even for him. An Elder Brain? Frozen ceromorphosis? An Illithid empire with him on top? You shook your head.

It was just then that sparks of hellfire danced through the cell. Smoke erupted in the corner, the smell of sulphur filling the stale air; and yet, despite the discomfort this very circumstance should have brought you, you felt relief flooding your body.

“My, my, what a predicament you have gotten yourself into here.”

“Raphael! Thank the gods… get me out of here, please!”

He truly was a sight to behold—hope, ironically, given your current predicament.

“Come. We have much to discuss.”

You stood, patting the dirt and the dust from your clothes. A sliver of hesitation wrapped its icy claw around your heart as you took the hand he offered and teleported you to safety. But wherever he took you…it was not your home.

“Where are we?” You peeked around, taking in your lavish surroundings. Imposing statues of devils—of Raphael himself—towered up into the air, marble pillars holding a high ceiling. Everything in here had been placed in the right spot with the utmost care, carefully chosen by Raphael himself, even the bottle of finely aged wine and the silver chalice next to it on the small table in front of a luxurious armchair by the fireplace.

The chimney was lit and spreading warmth. This…this was…

“The House of Hope,” Raphael finished your thought.

“I’m in the hells?”

“Indeed you are, my dear. Now. Have a seat. And tell me what happened.”

You did as you were told—there was little to no reason for you to resist or fall to your knees to beg him for his forgiveness. Not yet, anyway.

Raphael sat down in the armchair opposite you.

“You are…surprisingly calm,” you said.

“Should I not be?”

“Well…I failed you. Your mission. Aren’t you going to roast me over eternal hellfire?”

“You did fail. Except you did not.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

“I knew that retrieving that crown was going to be no easy feat. I knew Gortash was a force not to be underestimated. You merely needed the motivation to try. So tell me. What were you able to find out?”

You blinked. You were…forgiven? By Raphael himself? Confused and still a little hesitant, you told him everything you had learned—including where his precious Crown of Karsus was right now.

“Hmm…hmm…”

He looked away and said nothing else for a while but who were you to interrupt his devilish thoughts?

“That indeed changes the game…I will need time to accommodate to these…circumstances, shall we say.”

“So…am I dismissed?”

Finally, Raphael’s gaze found yours again. His smirk burned hot in your veins, setting the power he fed you with ablaze. Damn that warlock connection.

“You are. You provided me with everything I needed to know about the crown’s whereabouts. About Gortash’s plan, the dead three, and the Elder Brain. You did well.”

You tilted your head. “No punishment? No ‘your soul will burn in eternal hellfire for failing me’?”

A pause. And then, his smirk grew even wider. “No.”

“Okay…um…thank you. So…how do I get back home?”

“You don’t.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“As of right now, you are a wanted criminal and a traitor to Baldur’s Gate. The Banites will long have infiltrated your home. It would be suicide to return just yet.”

Shit. He had a point. “But…where am I supposed to go then?”

“Why, you will stay here, of course, in my House of Hope.”

“You…you want me to stay here…in the hells…with you?”

“Now, now, I will be very busy. Do not expect me to entertain you, little mouse.”

You bit your lower lip. You despised his nickname for you…except you didn’t—and neither did, apparently, your nether regions.

“But for now…” he continued, looking you up and down as if deep in thought all of a sudden. “Let me show you around. I believe you deserve a reward for all your hard work. You can freshen up in my boudoir, wash the dirt from your skin. You will most certainly enjoy what awaits you there.”

You didn’t like his tone when he said that. Not at all. Expect you loved it. There was something sensual about Raphael’s voice—the devil loved to listen to himself talk but of course, that was nothing new. You’d grown to like his ways, his attitude, even his arrogance. After all, he was the very reason for your powers.

Raphael led you through a long and empty corridor, safe for the souls who had been unfortunate enough to strike a deal with him. If this was his way of showing you what awaited you once you perished…you swallowed thickly, your stomach churning.

“Oh…oh…oh…you will be so much fun to watch!” The soul who spoke to you had wide eyes and she was visibly…aroused. Perhaps at this point, your alarm bells should have been ringing. Whatever Raphael’s plans were…whatever awaited you in the boudoir…

“I gave them exactly what they asked for, little mouse,” Raphael said, his hand finding the small of your back. “Don’t worry. The fate you promised me will be much less hopeless and sufferable.”

You stepped through what resembled a portal—an arcane lock, you realised—keeping unwanted visitors out. Cool magic grazed your skin, and then you faced a vast pool with two running faucets on either end. Cushions, wine, delicacies, and even books formed a wreath around the pool, along the wall there were several wardrobes you assumed contained fresh clothes and towels. There was another area behind the pool, one that was barely visible from where you were standing. Still, you could make out the wooden posts and the luxurious fabric of a king-size bed.

“Please… step inside. Help yourself to some fruit and some wine.”

You hesitated—again. But this time it was because of a strange stab of excitement in your stomach.

Eventually, you stepped forward and took off your boots. Raphael, however, made no move to leave. Instead, he stalked over to a lush sofa in front of a high window and sat down with his legs spread wide as if he owned the place. Well. He did.

What was his plan? Was he going to watch you? You knew better than to object. You had no problem with nudity, although it was a little strange Raphael would want to watch you bathe.

With a sigh—if anything to shake off the nervousness eating away at your insides—you began to undress until not a single layer of fabric remained.

Your patron’s eyes followed your every move as you stepped into the pool, taking in every single inch of your exposed skin. It was…pleasant. The water was just right and as it wrapped around your limbs to clean it, it felt…soft.

You moved to the middle of the pool, submerging yourself until the water reached your collarbones. The bruises and cuts you had taken with you from this mission all but shrunk and disappeared, leaving behind healthy and unmarred skin. Restoration faucets…no wonder Raphael always looked so impeccable and untouched.

The relief was like a balm for your body. Your aches disappeared, the exhaustion draining from your core. You were about to close your eyes when all of a sudden, a tall figure appeared above you. A gust of wind tore through your hair. You looked up, discovering bat-like wings keeping a red-skinned figure in the air with its arms crossed, a sly smirk on its—his lips.

The demon, an Incubus, you recognised quickly, was the spitting image of Raphael.

“Hello, little mouse.” Fuck. He sounded like him too. “Is that your little warlock?” he asked. You were very well aware he wasn’t talking to you, yet all you could do was stare at him with wide eyes and your jaw dropped.

“Isn’t she a fine specimen?” Raphael bragged.

“She is indeed.” The incubus lowered himself down until his bare feet touched the carpeted floor, his eyes, identical to Raphael’s, never leaving your form. You were frozen in place. Meeting an incubus in the flesh was quite a remarkable experience—but also potentially dangerous. What did your patron have in mind? To show you off? You gasped for air. He’d promised you a ‘reward’. He couldn’t have been referring to…

“My name is Harleep,” the incubus purred as he flew closer. The faint smell of sulphur hit your nostrils. Every instinct inside of you screamed for you to get out, to save yourself…yet a very depraved and filthy part of you was begging you to stay to see what would happen. What could happen.

You told him your own name and he gave a toothless grin. “Such a pretty little mouse…what do you say? Should we make you feel good? I take it Raphael has brought you here because you’ve been a very, very good girl.”

You lower regions clenched. Fuck. Why did this excite you so much? It shouldn’t. And yet, you found yourself nodding. “I…I think so?”

Raphael chuckled. “I was hoping you’d say yes. Harleep is a very…thorough lover. And I do admit, after all of our time spent together, I am rather curious as to what it would be like to claim you.”

Oh. Oh. He…oh gods. If there was one thing you knew about Raphael it was that he was quite possibly the most narcissistic and self-absorbed devil in the nine hells. It was beneath him to mingle with anyone who didn’t live up to his standards—and the only one who did, apparently, was himself.

You actually had to bite back a laugh when you realised. Raphael had made Harleep take his form because he wouldn’t fuck anyone but himself. And now…he wanted to watch Harleep fuck you. You would be lying if you said you didn’t find the thought intriguing. It had been ages since you’d last had sex, besides, receiving pleasure from an incubus? There was nothing else like it. Should you give in?

“My…such a shy little mouse…” Harleep’s hand came up to stroke your cheek as you stood there in the water, naked and dumbfounded. It slid down the side of your face, over your neck, your shoulders, and your arm until he was able to intertwine his fingers with yours and gently pull you with him.

And just like that…all of your remaining resistance, any doubts and fears…faded away. Harleep snapped his fingers to dry your skin and had you sprawl out on the huge king-size bed. The bed sheets were soft, silk, or satin as you sank into the mattress and rested your head on the pillow. The Incubus crawled over you in an almost predatory manner, Raphael following suit behind him. He pulled up a chair and poured himself a glass of wine, his mischievous eyes glistening with curiosity and desire.

Oh gods…he really was going to do this, wasn’t he? This was going to happen. He was going to watch Harleep fuck you right before his eyes.

You breathed out when Harleep grabbed your knees and spread your legs for him to position himself between them. You glanced down, eyes widening a little at his size. He was as hard as a rock, his red skin almost glowing in the orange light of the hells. Feeling him inside you…all of a sudden, there was nothing else you wanted in this world any more than this, any more than him.

He already was fucking with your mind then…Incubi had an uncanny ability to charm their victims before they devoured them entirely. But surely, Raphael wouldn’t let him go this far…would he?

Harleep’s tip pressed against your entrance and you realised in shock that you were dripping wet. Your pussy was throbbing, eager to take a cock and ease the growing arousal he was making you feel.

“Now…let us see how you taste, little mouse.” Harleep buried himself inside you to the hilt without any forewarning, meeting no resistance from your wanton body. A gasp escaped your lips as he claimed you, causing Raphael to chuckle as he twirled the red wine in his chalice before taking a sip.

“Hmm…like a lush and ripe fruit, juicy and ready to be plucked…” the incubus raved.

Was that really how you tasted to a sex demon? You couldn’t talk, couldn’t think… You bit your lower lip, digging your nails into the sheets as Harleep began to move inside you, withdrawing almost entirely only to plunge himself back in and fuck you slowly and intimately as if to savour your body.

Your breathing grew heavier, your arousal climbing even higher. Every single thrust was an ode to an impending orgasm. It was pleasure like you had never experienced it before. Nothing else mattered anymore. Whatever Harleep was doing, whatever his superpower was…it was working. Penetrative sex alone never did the trick for you—but with him, you’d been on the brink of climax from the very moment he’d sheathed himself inside of you.

Raphael chuckled and your head fell to the side. His gaze lingered on your joined bodies, taking in your bouncing breasts and Harleep’s powerful strokes, his cock disappearing into your wet warmth over and over again. He looked…fascinated—and you couldn’t help but let it fuel your carnal desire to drown in a whirlwind of lust.

Harleep joined in on the devil’s chuckle. “Keep going, little mouse. I can feel you tightening around me. You want to come so badly, don’t you?”

You bit your lower lip harder, almost drawing blood. Forcing your eyes back on Harleep, you nodded eagerly.

“Then come, little mouse. Show us how much you are enjoying this.”

It was all you wanted to hear, all you needed to hear. You fell apart beneath him on the bed, the delicious knot in your stomach unbound. Your walls contracted around Harleep’s cock who did not relent, fucking you through your orgasm until you turned into a whimpering mess.

The pleasure cursed through you like pure electricity, your mind shutting off. You were his…his for the taking, his to feed on, his to do with you as he pleased, forever…

“Now, now, Harleep. Don’t forget your manners.”

The incubus chuckled and with a start, as the last remaining weaves of bliss ebbed away, you woke up. Harleep dug his nails into your hips, lifting them off the bed to bury himself even deeper. He fucked you hard and fast now, ready to take his own relief.

“Do not come inside of her,” you heard Raphael say. His tone allowed no contraction.

You threw your head back, enjoying every single luscious thrust until Harleep stilled and pulled out, one of his hands wrapping around his length to finish himself off.

Ropes of his seed landed on the clean bed sheets between your legs, staining the pretty fabric. You were panting, fighting for your sanity when part of you didn’t even want it back.

“My, my…what a show.”

You half-expected Raphael to clap. Instead, he only chuckled again and got up from his seat. You couldn’t help it—you glanced down, noticing the considerable bulge in his trousers.

“Join me for dinner once you’ve recovered. You must be famished, my dear.”

With that, he left, leaving you behind with a seemingly out-of-breath Incubus who was still drinking in your essence, your arousal. He seemed…satiated. Amused, even.

Fuck. You’d need that restoration faucet again before you could even consider having supper with the very devil you had promised your soul to.

[chesometer]

Been replaying Dragonspyre with my friend and one thing that I’ve always found fascinating about it is the way that it handles the ghosts.

All throughout the world, you see that every human has been killed. Dragonspyre is a ruined world, and the only people still around are the servants of the dragon titan. In place of everyone who’s been killed, a ghost stands where they once stood.

What I love about the ghosts is their various levels of comprehension of the state that they’re in. Some of the ghosts acknowledge what happened, that the dragon titan completely razed their world. However, many don’t. In fact, there’s a decent number of Dragonspyre ghosts who flat-out don’t even realize they’re dead. One that struck a cord with me in particular said something to the effect of “I’m no longer tangible”, seemingly understanding his state as “still alive but not able to touch things for some mysterious reason”. Many of the ghosts make excuses for the fact that they can’t do what they once did when they were alive. This is either because they don’t realize they are dead, or my interpretation, that they don’t want to acknowledge that their lives were cut short.

I also love that so many of the ghosts are very much stuck in their ways from when they were alive. It’s basically left up to interpretation whether that’s a symptom of them being a ghost, or if that militant adherence to order and rules is a symptom of growing up in Dragonspyre’s culture that’s impossible to shake. There’s an NPC, Belia Windgazer, who is still running paperwork for the vaults, even though that paperwork is coming from and going to no one, and is not useful for a single person. It’s running through the motions of the busywork that you did when you were alive, and that’s kind of nightmarish. Even in death, they don’t get any rest.

Another NPC, Zanna Fireflower, has made it her main priority to secure a tower that has visibly been toppled a long time ago, leaving only a single floor. She sees this as a necessary military accomplishment. However, in the present day, this is basically entirely meaningless from both an objective and political viewpoint. Gaining control of this tower does nothing for nobody, the tower doesn’t even stand there anymore. Is this fixation simply something that is static beyond the grave, or is it such a point of pride for her that she can’t let go of such a pointless task all these years later?

Playing through Pirate101 and getting to the point where you meet the four ghosts of Ratbeard’s crew adds a new layer to this situation as well. In that game, those ghosts cannot move on from the mortal realm and go to the next life because they still have unsettled business in this world. Does that imply that with such a massive tragedy on Dragonspyre, the dragon titan not only killed countless people, but doomed them to never rest in peace and move to the next world due to the fact that all of their lives had been cut tragically short, leaving every one of them with unfinished business? Absolutely horrifying stuff

[shock]

How to Cheat Death, 10.15.23.

Text transcript: By 2020, everything crashes to the ground. Again. When we say "traumatic", boy, do we mean it. Much of it irreplaceable, all those dead things I'd buried, they will all come back again and again, in the form of vaguely familiar memories. Some of them we begin to warp and change, all these shadow people, pieces of strangers, someone's life invented, imagined, purely by the power of thought. But the brain can't synthesize generations of stars in our Galaxy, doing all they had done. Disembodied intelligences move toward each other and merge, not doubles of one another, not identical, but all lost and gone with death. But this is only the beginning. The human mind is explicitly designed to break down at a certain point. This complex brain a doomed star, the purpose of human intellect defined as almost beyond comprehension. In the near future, the human race is... Older? Smarter? Wiser? We may become the first generation to discover we are not alone in the world. If this ever happens, it will be one of the most defining moments in the history of our species. Are humans all there is? Maybe we are alone, or nearly so. Or are there other beings in the ghostly light inside our bodies, not yet born? You may not be aware of it, the surface electricity of your skin, the optic nerve fibres, the 120 billion nerve connections converted directly into experiences, brainwaves, instructions. This is all changing. They're thinking about merging computers with our brains. Neural implants, nanotechnology, cells that communicate via processing circuits of the brain. Technologies may develop to prolong life, powered by computers with their own sorts of minds and consciousness... ...Maybe science fiction had it wrong. Maybe the first team of computers about to merge there, in that compartment of your brain where inspiration and emotion plays out, will exhibit space for the full range of personality, including our powers for turning dreams into vision, in our strength, our creativity and randomness, disorder, reasoning, tracing, stacking, corralling, framing, our complexity and variation. Implants who have skills, sensory feeling, mental abilities, moral dilemmas, and thoughts. The ability to recall an experience that triggers a memory, memories of places and things, good and strange, even traumatic, to truly resemble their creators. Many will be total show-offs, they can be sneaky, spoiled, socially impinged, violent ringleaders. Others lie, or project, or perform, or kill, or damage, or demand out of conscious work. Some others, as smart as you are— with the same processing power as your adult human brain— never learn from the past before us, because they think they already know. "YOU CAN'T HELP WHO YOU ARE!" The real story is: The past lies to us all and leaves a strange numb feeling, a tension that sometimes never fades. Even machines with 20 or 50 times as much information also cannot process their way out of death. When that time comes, you'll all know. Yet these colorful, radiant brains make it possible to fill the otherwise lonely millennium with an unimaginable symphony of possibilities, the present a billion different geodesic shapes that communicate through electromagnetic wavelengths of colors. From radio (pink and green), to glowing oxygen and X-ray (blue), iridescent fireworks (orange and yellow), blood (red), such a broad spectrum, all of human history, another time, all the same time an experience again. So you ask: what is the difference between the synthetic and physical body? You give this machine an instruction and it hesitates, and says, "Have you thought this through? I'm not sure that you have." You recognize the extraordinary beat of an artifical heart in your body immediately; a sort of love affair with memory. That is what it is to be human. I'm doomed all my life to an odd feeling of familiarity. Why should any barrier, even death, impede it?

[cherrypikkins]

Here is my contribution for today's prompt for @fe-oc-week! Oct 9 - Introductions. I'll be posting about my fe3h oc, Kitt Burgess, as well as some related lore.

Kitt Burgess (they/them) Date of Birth: 14th of the Ethereal Moon (12/14) Place of Birth: Annwen, a village in the southern Oghma Mountains, Adrestia Height: 159cm/168cm Affiliation: Church of Seiros Crest: None (?) Strengths: Axes, Riding, Flying Weaknesses: Faith, Heavy Armor Budding Talent: Reason

Personal Ability: Demonic Resonance - Bonus to critical hit when within the attack range of a monster.

Interests: Wilderness survival, monster hunting Likes: The outdoors, superstition and fortune-telling, peculiar tasting foods Dislikes: Fighting against people, church politics, insect swarms, bland tasting foods

Click the read more for more lore :3 !

Kitt Burgess, Ward of the Church - Part I Kitt is a mysterious orphan who was taken in by the Church of Seiros at the behest of Seteth and Flayn. Though they are enrolled as a student at Garreg Mach, they have yet to officially join a house. Prior to arriving at the monastery, they lived in a remote village deep within the southern Oghma Mountains. Today, that area is but a burnt ruin, infested with Demonic Beasts.

Though outwardly polite and accommodating, they are known to be elusive, especially when asked to speak about themselves and their past. They are reluctant to use their full strength in combat, yet show an unsettling sort of enthusiasm when fighting monsters. They harbor a mutual distrust towards various members of the Church of Seiros, due to the latter's politics and secret-keeping. However, they seem to like the Professor well-enough and view them as a calming presence. They have an interest in superstition and local folklore, especially with matters concerning fate. They spend much of their time exploring the wilderness, investigating any reports of monsters or other unusual activity.

Should they be recruited, they will gladly follow Byleth to the end in any of the four routes. Otherwise, they will remain with the Church of Seiros.

Carnwennan, The Illusory Blade A forgotten relic associated with Gwyn, the Unsung Hero. The history of its usage and origins are unknown to Fodlan at large, as it has been discovered only recently by the Church of Seiros. However, the nature of its very creation is suspected to be 'monstrous beyond comprehension'.

It has the shape of a short blade, though it has the ability to suppress its own relic powers and take on the appearance of an ordinary knife. This would be explain why it has been highly difficult to track throughout history. Its true form is yet unknown. How it ultimately came to be in the possession of one Kitt Burgess is a story that they refuse to tell.

Despite taking the shape of a knife, it can be equipped as a sword.

Requires the Crest of Gwyn/Sign of the Mist Dragon to properly wield.

Chance of inflicting Silence on each attack.

Exclusive Combat Art: Spectral Sword - Might increases based on user's Resistance. Effective against Dragon foes and Mage-type units

Canopus, The Blessed Axe A sacred axe crafted by Saint Macuil, at the commission of Saint Seiros. Its powers are intended to be awakened when wielded by someone bearing the Crest of Gwyn. Because the 'true' bearer of the Crest of Gwyn has been lost since ancient history, Saint Macuil required the assistance of Saint Cichol and Saint Cethleann in order to correctly calibrate the weapon.

During the war between Seiros and Nemesis, this weapon was presented to the warrior Gwyn, who wielded it in defense of Enbarr when it was under siege. Upon Gwyn's departure from the battlefield, it was returned to the Church of Seiros and was last noted as being in the custody of Saint Cichol. Its present location is a secret closely guarded by the inner circle of the Church.

[winxanity-ii]

OH, YOU CRYIN'?

ship: gojo x fem!sorcerer!reader warnings: non-explicit (though there are signs of gojo having dacryphillia💀) word count: 1.9k a/n: Y'all when i say i ran to my damn laptop when i heard the english dub gojo saying "you cryin?" i fucking RAN 😭😭; anyways enjoy this lil short one-shot. 'Yeah, No' will be updated soon my loves, might post it on my birthday (Oct. 9) we'll see 👀 next part is 𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐓.

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the classroom. You sighed, your eyes shifting from the broom in your hand to the empty desks around you. Your partner had bailed, leaving you alone to clean up. "Typical," you muttered under your breath.

The door slid open and in strolled Gojo Satoru, the enigmatic third-year with a penchant for messing with you. His eyes were hidden by his shades, but you felt his gaze lock onto you. "Cleaning up solo? That's pathetic, even for you."

"Yeah, well, some of us actually have responsibilities," you retorted, gripping the broomstick a little tighter.

Satoru walked closer, slowly enough to make each step sound deliberate. "Responsibilities? Or are you just bad at getting people to stick around?" his words were calculated, and as he passed by you to reach his destination, he brushed against you just enough to make you question whether it was accidental.

You gripped the broom handle tighter, trying to center yourself and focus on the task at hand. Ignoring him, you continued to sweep, but it was difficult to shake off his presence.

Satoru made himself comfortable in a chair near the back of the room, casually throwing his feet up on a desk as if he owned the place.

"You know, you'd finish faster if you actually paid attention to what you're doing," he called out, his voice tinged with that ever-present air of entitlement, as he lounged in his chair.

"I'm managing just fine without your commentary, thank you," you snapped, sweeping a little more forcefully than before.

Satoru chuckled. "Touchy, touchy. You always get this emotional when you're left alone?"

Ignoring him, you continued to sweep, your knuckles whitening around the broom handle.

Just keep sweeping. You've been able to ignore him all month; you can do it now too. Your internal coaching was your lighthouse in the sea of irritation that was Satoru.

You remembered the events of the past month as you continued sweeping. Satoru had been a consistent figure of annoyance, popping up when you least expected it.

There was the time he ridiculed your cursed technique during training, embarrassing you in front of your classmates. And who could forget when he 'accidentally' tripped you in the cafeteria, causing you to spill your lunch tray?

You'd managed to hold it together through each of these instances, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you crack. And yet here he was again, in a classroom he had no reason to be in, acting like he owned the place.

His sudden, inexplicable interest in you was baffling. Was this some sort of game to him? Or had you just won some kind of twisted lottery as today's target for his teasing? It was almost as though he had taken a specific interest in pushing your buttons, for reasons completely beyond your comprehension.

Why is he even here? What's his deal with me all of a sudden?

Your thoughts screeched to a halt when you sensed a sudden, electric shift in the room's energy. Without thinking, you sidestepped just in time as a crumpled-up ball of paper, pulsating with cursed energy, rocketed past you. The force was so strong it collided with the chalkboard, making the entire frame shudder and shake. When the ball dropped to the ground, it left a small, smoldering crater in the chalkboard's surface. Even the dust particles in the air seemed to freeze for a moment, as if startled by the unexpected chaos.

"Oops~" Satoru's voice was half-sincere, at best, making it crystal clear he was anything but sorry.

Annoyed, you sucked your teeth, shooting him a withering glare from the corner of your eye. You set the broom against a nearby desk, deliberately making your way over to pick up the remains of his little "projectile."

As you bent down, you felt an eerie charge fill the air, like the buzz before a thunderstorm; every hair on your arms stood on end, as if your body was sounding an internal alarm.

When you returned to your full height, you felt an enveloping warmth behind you. Slowly turning your head, your eyes met the dark fabric of Satoru's uniform.

As your eyes traveled upward, you took in the almost surreal whiteness of his hair, so bright it looked like it could glow in the dark. His skin, up close, appeared even more flawless—a disturbingly perfect canvas that no artist could replicate.

Realizing you'd been staring a bit too long, you snapped out of it, a wave of embarrassment washing over you. You spun around, flustered, and grabbed the eraser to aimlessly scrub at the chalkboard, as if you could erase your past actions.

"What's wrong? Did I make you shy?" Satoru's chuckle filled the air, deep and unabashedly mocking.

"Trust me, you're not that influential," you shot back, your tone dripping with disdain. For a split second, the room fell silent, and you wondered if, for once, you'd managed to get under his skin.

"Is that so?" Satoru's eyes narrowed, a glint of something unreadable flashing across them. "If I'm not that influential, then why are you always so flustered around me?"

"Because you're annoying," you retorted, your irritation boiling over. "Like a mosquito that won't go away. Should I be impressed?"

Satoru's lips twisted into a smirk, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "You know, for someone so sensitive, you've got quite the mouth on you."

"I could say the same about you," you snapped, your mouth operating faster than your brain. "It must be tiring, pretending you're so invincible all the time."

As the words hung in the air, a memory flashed through your mind—rumors that had circulated around school not too long ago. They said Satoru had nearly died at the hands of a Zenin clan assassin before unlocking his Limitless Cursed Technique's reverse form.

The story was whispered in hushed tones, half in awe and half in disbelief, because no one could imagine the Gojo Satoru as anything less than invincible.

The moment words registered in your mind, you felt a twinge of guilt. You knew you'd hit a soft spot, but it was quickly pushed aside; after all, how many times had he taken pleasure in your discomfort?

Just as you turned to leave, finally ready to put an end to this emotionally exhausting exchange, his grip tightened around your wrist, pulling you back. Startled, you looked up, meeting his gaze, and this time, it was impossible to read what was going on behind those eyes.

"You really think you're something special, huh? Acting all high and mighty even though Geto wouldn't even give you a second glance," Satoru's voice sliced through the tension, each word tipped with a barb that pricked at your insecurities. Your eyes widened, not expecting him to hit a nerve so precisely.

Satoru kept going, unwilling to let up. "Why would he? When he could have someone like Utahime Iori? Don't they look like a match made in heaven?"

His words clouded your vision, dragging you back to the heart-wrenching memory of Geto. How your hands trembled that day, clutching a carefully folded confession letter like it was a lifeline. Geto had looked almost ethereal under the dappled sunlight, his eyes holding the soft glow of late afternoon. Every fiber of your being screamed at you, whispering that he was as close to perfect as it got.

Mustering every ounce of courage you had, you'd approached him, each step feeling like you were walking on a tightrope. Your nerves were raw, your heart racing, as if trying to burst out of your chest. Finally standing before him, you'd taken a shaky breath and extended the letter, only for him to gently push your hand back.

"I can't," he had said, eyes not quite meeting yours. "I need to focus on my studies."

The words had felt like a slap, cold and stinging, leaving you dumbfounded, frozen in a tableau of rejection. And then, barely a week later, you saw him—strolling down the corridor, laughing beside Utahime as if he didn't have a care in the world. It was as if your confession had been nothing more than a fleeting annoyance, easily forgotten.

The memory was a bitter pill that sat heavy in your chest, suffusing your vision with a blur of unshed tears. The taste of salt on your lips pulled you back to the now, to the reality where Satoru stood, looking down at you with that signature, insufferable smirk.

You hadn't even realized you'd begun to cry until a tear rolled down your cheek, meeting your lips. Mortified, your gaze darted to the floor, but Satoru closed the distance between you, backing you up until you were pinned against the chalkboard.

With a tilt of his head, he leaned in until he was nearly sharing your air, his scent—fresh, tinged with something tantalizing—filling your senses. Just before lifting your chin, he subtly lowered his shades, perhaps to better scrutinize your face or to show a sliver of sincerity—whatever it was, it unnerved you.

As Satoru stared into your eyes, you noticed his eyes darken, his gaze intensifying as he leaned in a little closer. "Oh, you cryin'?" His voice deepened as he asked the question, a blend of teasing mockery and a curious undertone that you couldn't quite place.

For a split second, you forgot to breathe. His eyes, icy blue, captured yours. And in that moment, in those icy pools, you saw yourself—your eyes, red-rimmed and shimmering with emotion.

The encounter left you feeling raw and exposed, a discomfort you weren't willing to sit with for much longer. Summoning the last shreds of your composure, you forced a scowl onto your face, pushing against his arm. You barely had the strength to move him, but he obliged, taking a small step back.

"Excuse me," you muttered, your voice tinged with restrained irritation. Clutching your chest to calm your racing heart, you brushed past him and stomped over to the forgotten broom in the corner of the room. Gripping its handle like a lifeline, you started sweeping, your thoughts screaming, What the fuck was that?!

Satoru seemed to ponder your silent retreat for a moment before releasing a hum of contemplation. "Hmm, the silent treatment now?" His voice carried a note of bemusement.

When you didn't respond, he sighed, a touch dramatically. "Fine, I guess I'll leave you be," he relented, a chuckle lacing his words as he began to walk away. He moved around you, his presence lingering like an aftershock, making its way toward the classroom door.

Just as he crossed the threshold, he paused. With a fluid motion, he lowered his shades just enough for you to see his eyes. "See you later, Y/N~," he said, the corners of his mouth lifting in that familiar, cocky grin.

And then he was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts, your bewildered heart, and a room that suddenly felt far too empty.

A/N: stop cuz im a slut for gojo 😫✋🏾 and in had to put this out. its insane how feral this man makes me BARK BARK GRRR

[star-light-shadows]

A comprehensive explanation of why I think Suselle will likely not happen and Kriselle is the true end-game pairing.

I personally do think there's a pretty strong chance of them falling through in the end. While I do think that they are far from the most interesting pairing possible, it isn't solely because of that. There are a lot of details that to me suggest that they are not truly meant for each other like it may immediately seem. And Noelle's "romantic destiny" may actually fall to someone else.

Starting with major details that strongly suggest the pairing isn't going down without a hitch, Susie is very strongly suggested to only be interested in Noelle as a friend. The character teas tell us that Susie feels equally for Kris, Noelle, and Ralsei, and while you could say that this is before the Ferris wheel ride, even after that in the chapter epilogue, when talking about bringing Ralsei or Noelle to the fair, she says that Kris would obviously be there, not getting/caring about the concept of how dates work. By all means it seems like Susie just wants to have friends. Frankly there's a massive chance with how she's portrayed that she's AroAce.

Even bigger than that, tho, is how Suselle is pretty clearly portrayed parallel to Kris x Ralsei, and there is some pretty damn obvious lore that makes it very clear that Kralsei is not going to turn into a proper end-game pairing, even being describable as a downright weird ship on-par with pseudo-incest. So if Kralsei is seemingly being pushed by the game, but is most likely going to fall apart at some point, I feel it's incredibly likely that Suselle is too.

In fact, while I wouldn't go nearly as far as to say that it's toxic, I think this comparison shows that we shouldn't shy away from acknowledging that some aspects of Suselle as it's been presented may be unconducive to the two being in a proper romantic relationship.

The biggest thing that leads me to think these two aren't end-game material is that there are a lot of details that suggest to me that Noelle's crush on Susie is best described as "misplaced."

The primary target of Noelle's attraction for Susie is very often displayed as being for things that Susie simply isn't beyond the surface. She simps for Susie as a rough and mean bully who slams people into lockers and would push her over before laughing at her. A presentation that Chapter 1 thoroughly establishes as being a defense mechanism, not what Susie is really like. And she's the one person Susie wouldn't bully anyway as a result of the Pencil thing, something Noelle has to be told. Noelle doesn't want/expect Susie to soften up to her at all.

The other half of how her feelings for Susie are presented is basically the part of her that admires Susie for what she wishes she had. Being brave, unafraid to break the rules, generally being strong. And while that's all fine and dandy for a romantic relationship on its own, Romantic feelings that consist of that and thinking they're hot for reasons that aren't actually true, when put together create a situation that can only be described as Noelle having a crush on the IDEA of Susie, rather than who Susie actually is.

Now I don't expect this to turn into something toxic or obsessive, quite the opposite, I expect this to be something Noelle will begin to realize as her crush on Susie begins to actually FADE the closer she gets to Susie. (Something Susie will be totally fine with because she just wants to have friends.)

So who else would be Noelle's romantic interest? Well, I was talking before about me not thinking Suselle is interesting, and while that's still not my main argument, I think it's important to explain a little of why. Noelle and Susie seems painfully bland as a pairing to me mainly because it doesn't feel like it brings anything out of the two characters. Whether romantic or not, the best relationships between two characters are going to bring out the best parts of the two characters. Both in the realistic-romantic-viability sense and in the character-writing sense.

While they might not be romantic, an example of this I'd like to bring up is Susie and Ralsei. Their personalities complement each other perfectly to the point where they bring out each other's best qualities. Susie is snarky and crude and her love language is largely comprised of playful teasing, but is also very empathetic with a big heart. Ralsei is kind and tolerant of others, making him the perfect "victim" for Susie's love language, but is noticeably lacking in empathy. Ralsei makes Susie more open to affection while Susie teaches Ralsei to be more assertive. Ralsei acts as the voice of reason, but in emotionally charged situations Susie makes up for Ralsei's lack of empathy. Plus, Susie is the one Lightner who doesn't see Ralsei's similarity to Asriel, likely being the one person who sees Ralsei as his own person, something Ralsei has been shown to struggle with himself.

Not dissimilar to this, there's one character that consistently brings out the best pieces of Noelle's character. And it's Kris.

Noelle's whole arc in Chapter 2 is about becoming mentally and emotionally stronger, right? Well, while most gravitate to connecting this to Noelle's admiration of Susie, when you look at how this arc actually plays out in the story narratively and mechanically, It's actually Kris that has this affect on Noelle. We see her boldness stat go up as we trek across the Cyber world with just her and Kris. She becomes bolder as a result of fighting alongside Kris and enduring their playful pranks. Noelle may admire Susie for her strength, but being around Kris is what brought that strength out of Noelle. (As well as her playful and goofy side.)

This deep effect Kris has on Noelle is the entire basis of the Snowgrave route, just twisted and warped. So isn't it interesting that this corrupted version of Noelle and Kris's relationship is multiple times characterized as an abusive romantic relationship?

Plus, in the epilogue of the Snowgrave route, despite everything that the player, through Kris, did, she monologues about how she wants to investigate what's going on with Kris, knowing that something is wrong, that the friend she knew would never do what happened, and vowing to figure it out and help Kris. Showing an incredible level of personal dedication.

Kris and Noelle go through a lot of interpersonal development in chapter 2, significantly more than Noelle and Susie do. Kris knew Noelle as a close friend in the past, but they seem to have had some kind of falling out. Despite this falling out and an air of emotional uncertainty around the two, several key moments with Noelle make it explicitly clear that Noelle deeply longs/longed to be close with Kris again.

"Yep! That's right! We're friends!" (It's. . . surprisingly nice just hearing Kris say that.) (Kris hasn't given me a gift like this. . . since we were little kids. . . Are they saying they want things to go back to. . .)

The "dating shoes" dialogue is especially interesting with this context, as it almost makes it seem like there are deep feelings between the two that even They don't understand.

And Kris brings out by far the deepest pieces of Noelle's character, even by her own direct admission. Her conversation with Kris late into Cyber City brings her history with Dess to the table, one of the more narratively interesting parts of her character, and at the end She says

(Kris is the only one who knows how weird I am.) (It's not fair, y'know!? Everyone knows how weird YOU are. Fahahaha.)

Simultaneously saying Kris is the only one who understands her, and that she truly likes Kris's open weirdness, to the point of believing it to be admirable rather than to be ashamed of. (Which honestly is probably something Kris needs to hear.)

While this may be venturing a little into fan-fictiony territory, Kris and Susie are superficially similar enough that I wouldn't doubt that her crush on Susie somehow stemmed off of her feelings for Kris in Kris's absence.

Overall, there's just a lot going on between Kris and Noelle that suggests something deeper than just friendship. Romantic undertones, estranged but longing to be together, bringing out the deepest pieces of each other, knowing each other better than anyone else. . . Unlike her crush on Susie, being based on a defense mechanism, Noelle likes Kris for who Kris is, even more than Kris themselves.

They're practically the perfect couple, only in the making.

Childhood friends to lovers is a common trope, and it's very characteristic of this game's emotional complexity to have two who've drifted apart be the ones destined to be. Not every love story is as simple as "Immediate crushing -> Confession -> Dating."

[olderthannetfic]

Reading for Context

I don’t really feel like scrolling through community profiles has taught me anything. People tend to just post normal tumblr posts and not tirades about shipping. I was told to just scroll OTNF go understand, but OTNF’s feed is just screenshots from a K-drama and idiots pestering him about pronouns for some reason. Is there like a specific way to do it? So… i’ve actually never understood the social conventions of other people in any group i’ve been in. I haven’t really had in real life friends since middle school.

This is actually kind of an interesting question.

First, let me be plain, what you've been asking repeatedly over the last couple of weeks or however long it's been is this:

How does a neurodivergent person who fundamentally is not good at social nuance, reading comprehension, and picking up on context get better at those things?

I've known people whose parents hired coaches to work with them on a weekly basis for years. "How does socializing work?" is not a simple question.

Teaching reading comprehension is hard too.

I vaguely remember a lot of times in school where English teachers spent whole semesters trying to get us to understand not only what figurative language meant in context but how to detect that it was present in the first place. I still remember this one 9th grade classmate wailing "But why does it have to be a metaphor?"

What you're asking about is something most people work on for decades, yet you want randos to summarize it simply in a few sentences.

--

The first thing that jumps out at me here is the superficiality of how you're describing engaging.

When people say to lurk, they're talking about a deep engagement with a community. They're talking about reading closely, including comments, for a month, not scrolling back through a week and just skimming the top-level posts.

Did you open the replies on my tumblr posts where other people besides me are discussing things? Did you look at the reblogs with content, and not just the ones I reblogged back onto my own tumblr?

Beyond the exact number of days you should read or the exact procedure, people are talking about a very in-depth kind of engagement in general. The point is that it's difficult to just come into a new space and know how it works without studying it.

For example, I talk about oldschool fanfic stuff a lot. A logical default assumption is that I'm a woman. Are you not familiar enough with fanfic spaces to assume that, or are you coming from Spacebattles or something?

Why on earth would you default to 'him'?

I'm not insulted: it just shows a staggering lack of clue about the context you found me in.

I've linked you to my patreon where you can see my pro writing pseudonym, which is obviously female. My tumblr itself links to my pro writing and gives my actual name, which is also fairly obviously feminine. I've also recently talked about being pregnant. Yes, it was oblique and I only confirmed it in the replies, not a top-level post, but plenty of regulars noticed. (Yes, yes, biology is not gender, but still...)

There are plenty of clues I'm not a "him", but you missed them all. I don't care about pronouns, but I do care about people who don't bother to or aren't capable of reading closely.

Quite a few people have sent me asks asking what I'm watching. I have repeatedly said that it's DMBJ and described it as "the Chinese tomb raider franchise". Yet you assumed it was Korean for some reason. This suggests that you just scrolled through quickly and did not actually thoroughly read the text of the posts or the replies. It suggests that your eyes skipped over the boring-looking short text posts in between the picspams.

It suggests you didn't bother to google what I was watching when I did say the name because you don't give enough of a shit to bother. That doesn't suggest a very high level of interest in my blog or any reason I should cut you any slack or pay attention to what you think.

It also suggests that you didn't look back all that far. I've been posting a lot about DMBJ, but I only started downloading Ultimate Note on July 15th and Tomb of the Sea on August 1st.

--

If you want to understand a community, scrolling hurriedly through one month of content and not actually reading it closely is insufficient.

This is what people mean when they say you're not willing to put in the work and want other people to do it for you.

[repurpose-yourself]

Re-evaluating this blog

For over three years, this blog has served as an outlet for my creative mind when it comes to transformation. Through its inception, I have met many wonderful people, or objects, with like-minded thoughts and ideas. This support helped me build out many unique stories that push the traditional considerations around humans turning into inanimate objects.

Recently I have been thinking more and more about the next chapter of this blog. While I haven't denounced transformation and stepped away from writing, this blog has stagnated at times due to my busy life and other creative pursuits. Couple that with disparaging comments I receive from time to time, it puts strain on whether it makes sense to continue publishing here.

I want to create enjoyment and enjoy myself while doing it. But some suck the fun out of things, unfortunately.

My intention has always been to write compelling transformation stories that illustrate worlds beyond our normal comprehension. I like to believe I have accomplished this. And I wish to go on doing so. But there comes a time when one has to step back and go in another direction.

For that reason, all works published to this blog have been made private, giving me time to reflect on how to move forward. I am acutely aware of Tumblr's poor coding, which doesn't allow posts to be changed or removed altogether when someone has reblogged it. So, even though these stories will not be present on my public blog, there stands a chance someone may come across a reblogged post from time to time.

To those who stumble across them, I hope you find enjoyment from the stories I have written. They will serve as a historical record of my time here.

Thank you for your support, it means the world to me.

[skye707]

SKYE! HOW would a date go with each of the Riddlers? I feel like ZY would sabotage the others any chance he could get. Hopefully this wasn’t already asked.

Who would have thought this is what my blog would become? Fulfilling people's desire to know how their favorite Riddler who go about romancing on a date.

I could not be prouder of myself.

Unburied - It’s pretty casual, I’m not gonna lie. He’s the most laidback of the Riddlers, and he’s not going out of his way to be strange. Something simple, like a lunch date, to feel out the situation. No fear for your life with this one.

ZY - Aw man, he’s got a date?? Better start the night off right by being twenty minutes fashionably late. While you’re on the date, though, I hope you’re not shy. He’s taking every opportunity he can to show you off to the waitstaff, bartender, other patrons of wherever you may be. “Yeah, aren’t they super hot? Only the best for Mr. Eddie Nygma.” Oh, shoot, yeah you’re paying, right?

Dano - Red. The entire time. There is not a moment he is not visibly embarrassed. Not by you! By the notion that other people can see that this little weirdo is on a date with this being of pure light for some fucking reason beyond his comprehension. Maybe stick to something secluded and personal.

YJ - This dude is falling over himself to ensure that every detail goes perfectly. He’s got an absolutely adorable day of activities planned. Ice cream shops, walks in the park, an evening of fireworks (idk how he managed to find that this time of the year but whatever). Like, this is the kind of date that a little kid dreams of having with their first love.

Gotham - Okay, where YJ’s perfectly planned date is cute and fun, this guy’s date is regimented and meticulous. It’s not that it isn’t a great time, he put a lot of thought into what you would enjoy together, but he’s very strict that “we have to leave at this time because otherwise we won’t be able to catch the sunset at this location at precisely 7:43 pm”. If you’re cool with that, then it’s gonna be great!

BTAA - Quite possibly the most romantic date you will ever go on in your life. He has evaluated the statistics and logic of every situation that may arise and is prepared for anything. He calls in some favors and has a Michelin Star restaurant air drop your favorite meal to be enjoyed on the deck of this yacht he just stole. Lots of compliments, both for you and himself, he’s such a sweetheart when he wants to be.

Arkham - It’s a date in the privacy of his little lair, but that doesn’t make it any less special. He covered the entire ceiling with stringed lights in the shape of question marks. Dinner is takeout from his favorite restaurant (the one thing he failed to acknowledge was what your preference was in terms of a meal). After that, with a flourish of his little dirty hands, he’ll get some music playing and set up chairs so you and he can watch the Batman fail another one of his stupendous traps. Yes, Mr. Nygma sir sure knows how to meticulously structure a good time.

BTAS - He’s shy! So very shy! When he’s the Riddler, he can do whatever he pleases, but when presenting himself as Eddie Nygma, he’s a little less confident. He’s sparing no expense to make this a memorable occasion for the both of you, but it’s easy to see that he’s just as nervous as you probably are.

Telltale - His idea of a “date” is going to a nice restaurant together. Which is great, but don’t expect any great lengths to be taken to make it romantic. Is it not enough that he would give up hours of his precious time to converse with you? Maybe that’s just his love language though: giving the time of day.

[callmewrinkles3]

Exclusive: Part Two From The Excerpts of Daniel Ricciardo’s Autobiography.

The Perth News, July 2035.

The former Formula One Champion talks about his wife, his family, and gives insights into his personal life like never before.

I know that everyone who reads this is more interested in my life and racing than in me praising my wife, but here’s the thing. She is my life. Her and our kids are my entire universe.

I’ve done some of the coolest things possible in my life. I’ve spent most of my adult life racing, I’ve driven the fastest cars in the world. I’ve sat into the ones that my heroes drove and driven them around the same racetracks they did. I went to hell and clawed my way back with Emma at my side and won a championship, but I can tell you that I’ve never felt as happy as the day I got to hold my kids for the first time. I’ve never been as proud as the day my wife brought our kids into the world and our family got a little bit bigger. But that’s a story for later. I’m going to tell you all about how much I love my kids in a few chapters, but before I do I need you to understand that they’re as amazing as their mother.

As I’ve been told countless times, everyone knows that we love each other. We’re the parents who are always holding hands at the school events, the ones that Lulu cringes about and tells her friends that “mama and dad keep kissing”. But the world doesn’t know everything that Em has done. They don’t know the things she’s sacrificed for me - her privacy, her solitude, her ability to walk down the street alone. That’s why I need to tell the world how wonderful she is. That’s why there’s some things you should know about my wife.

She is the coolest. Nobody in the world is as cool as her, not even me. She doesn’t believe in God, but she does believe in the power of Taylor Swift to solve world problems. She loves art, history, museums, and castles. And she brings me to a new one no matter where we are in the world. She loves crime shows and knows so much about true crime it’s almost scary. She can tell you which episode of Criminal Minds you’re watching from a single frame, and I can confirm that Penny wasn’t named after Penelope Garcia, but we did think about doing that.

She loves shiny things and Legos, and still says her best Christmas present was a Lego flower set we spent Christmas 2020 making together. She’d rather eat homemade food than dine at a Michelin Star restaurant, and she’s the sole reason we don’t have breakfast for dinner every day. She is the sweetest, strongest, most loving woman in the world. She is the most patient person I know. When we became parents we promised we wouldn’t yell at our kids, and our kids have never heard her raise her voice in anger. I know they never will.

She’s so smart and bright and I call her a genius at least once a day because it’s true. I wasn't going to mention this because it's not my place to say, but Em said I can. She's autistic. We found out after we got married, and a lot of things just slipped into place about her and our relationship. It's not a bad thing. It's not a negative. Her brain just works differently to mine, and she sees things I never would. It's one of the things I love her for, not in spite of it. But it's part of why the rumours and crap said about her hurt so much. Her brain picks up the patterns that everyone else misses and without her I would have been completely blindsided in Hungary in 2022. She was the first one to realise there was a chance for a seat in 2023.

She’s loyal beyond comprehension. She will never spill a secret if you ask her to keep it. She lights up a room as soon as she walks in. She’s so funny it’s unbelievable even though she insists she’s not. She gives the best hugs (as voted by our family) and kisses (as voted by me) in the world. She loves crocheting things and used to travel around the world with yarn and her hooks to make stuffed animals. Each one of our kids has a blanket that she made, and she made one big enough for me.

Every single thing she’s achieved in life is because she worked so fucking hard for it. Em has built herself up from the ashes more times than any person should, and more times than anyone I know could. She rebuilt us and me brick by brick when any other person would have walked away and nobody would have blamed them. And then she’s the reason we built up our family of five and she’s the one who keeps our family going. She’s the heart and soul of this family. She loves being a mum, and she was made to be one. She loves our kids - and somehow me because I’m a lucky, lucky man - more than anything or anyone in the world. She deserves everything in this world and the day we got together I made it my job to make it possible.

She’s the sweetest woman in the world and she couldn’t hurt a fly even if she tried. She’s selfless to a painful degree and trying to explain she can be selfish felt impossible. She still isn’t. She’s the kind of person who remembers everyone’s birthdays and has cards and a cake. She asks how everyone is because she really worries. She’ll stay sitting listening to you ramble for hours, even if it’s about things that she has no interest in or doesn’t understand because she knows it means something to you. She let me talk about wine, I made it my mission to create one that she’d drink and I did it.

Emma Ricciardo is the woman who puts everyone else first. She’s been willing to do things that make her life worse in so many ways because she thinks it’ll be easier for other people. She puts her wants and needs behind everyone else’s, and no matter what she still does. It’s just one of the reasons I always put her first in life because she won’t put herself first. You know the thing on flights, put your own mask on before helping others? Emmy doesn’t do that. She helps everyone else first.

She makes the hard days easier. During the worst time in our lives when I could barely get out of bed to go to work she was the one who made the noise go away. She’d wrap me in her arms because it was the one place I felt I wasn’t tearing myself apart. She drove me to and from the McLaren MTC and waited around Woking for me because she knew I needed her. She’s the only person who could ever quiet that overactive, anxious voice in my head. She still is.

And on top of that she’s fucking gorgeous. I know I’m biased, but have you seen her? She’s beautiful inside and out and Milo is so lucky he looks like his Mama. Don’t get me wrong, our girls are beautiful because they look like me but Milo got to take after Em and I love that we have her mini me too. She’s this tiny little British crazy woman who can verbally kick anyone’s ass but smiles like a child when songs she likes come on the radio. She grins at me and I forget what I was saying. I can’t count how many times I forgot what I was talking about during an interview in the paddock. I know there’s YouTube compilations of me losing my train of thought, and I can confirm any of them after mid 2018 were because I saw her.

I can’t count the amount of times my brain went blank and I stopped listening to whatever anyone was asking me, simply because I saw her passing by. She would walk anywhere in my eyesight with Blake and Michael and I could recognise her no matter how far away she was. And then my brain turned into a mess of rainbows, hearts, and glitter. That’s how terribly in love with her I am. She grins and her nose wrinkles and I remember seeing her in that kitchen and wanting to kiss her. It’s how she got her instagram username, I started calling her Wrinkles that night.

I seriously don’t know how I got so lucky. I’ve tried working out how but in the nearly twenty years since we met I still don’t know. Somehow the strongest and most beautiful woman in the world agreed to marry me and call me her husband and let me call her my wife and my baby mama, and I still don’t understand it. She loves me and more than that she likes me, and how cool is that?

I could go on for this entire book to talk about all the things I love about her but I’ll keep most of that to myself to get to the point. There’s a really small circle of people who are lucky to be liked by her. You should feel lucky if Emmy calls you her friend. But there’s this even tinier circle of people who Em actually loves, and if you’re in that one you can call yourself a blessed cunt. If you’re in that very closed circle you know exactly what I’m talking about, and you also know that there’s absolutely nothing that woman won’t do to protect the people she loves.

When I tell you that, what I really mean is she will become lethal. If you mess with the people who she loves, Em turns into a different person who will rain destruction on you. I always say that she turns into Mama Badger, and she calls me a silly and kisses my nose, but it’s true. It’s very rare and I’ve seen it a few times since I met her, but the worst was the last time she publicly turned into Mama Badger. Why?

Because she gets mad when you mess with anyone in that very small circle of people she loves. But guess what happens when someone messes with and publicly betrays the one she loves the most in the world?

[stxrrynxghts]

Arjun's pain

Arjun is a character who can be considered the hero of the Mahabharata. He is the 3rd Pandava, yet his line continues to rule over Hastinapur. As a person, Arjun is someone who has lost a lot, when you go down the line.

He is not just naturally gifted, but he strives to be the best, or more accurately, do his best. He is everyone's favorite, reasonably so. But his personal life is marred with tragedies.

He lost his father at a very young age, as well as his step mother Madri. Since Arjun grew in her presence, I am assuming that she and he must have been close. After this, when they arrive in Hastinapur, Arjun got attached to Bhishma, and later on, Drona, his guru.

Drona did not favor Arjun, or grant him special skills, this is a misconception. He would be giving extra lessons to Ashwatthama, and Arjun would finish off his tasks early and attend these special lessons as well.

There is a story how Drona gave Arjun a pot with a hole, and Ashwatthama a pot with a wider mouth, so that Ashwatthama could fill water more quickly and arrive back earlier, but Arjun would use Varunastra and return at the same time. There are various instances on how Arjun saved Drona, and received a divyastra in return. He was clearly the best of all his students.

Events like Bhima being poisoned and Lakshagriha must have hurt the Pandavas, who probably did not expect their cousins to take their rivalry to this extent. Arjun spent 12 years in self imposed exile, and some years after he returned, they had to go to exile once again.

The war was something that damaged Arjun greatly, as he lost almost everyone dear to him. Bhishma and Drona, who he respected and loved a lot, died in front of him. Many of their allies were his friends as well, and seeing them die must have hurt him. His sons Iravan and Shrutakarma, as well as his nephews, the rest of the Upapandavas and Ghatotkacha perished in the war as well.

The biggest blow, however, for Arjun, was Abhimanyu's death. Abhimanyu was Arjun's favorite son, clearly. Arjun absolutely adored that boy, and he wouldn't have expected his death. Arjun had made sure that Abhimanyu stayed nearby, on all the other days of the war. He went an extra mile to ensure his protection.

The motive of the Kauravas in forming the chakravyuha was to capture Yudhishthira, not kill Abhimanyu, however Drona said that he would surely kill one of the Pandava Maharathis that day. Arjun was specifically driven away, and Abhimanyu entered the chakravyuha formed by 11 akshauhinis, all alone. It was a magnificent feat, and a death trap. Abhimanyupur, in present day Haryana, is a town where the chakravyuha was formed, so you can see how big it must have been.

Abhimanyu was in a very bad shape by the time he was dead. Arjun fainted after hearing about his death. He was angry at Jayadratha, but it is beyond my comprehension why he was not angry at Drona, Ashwatthama, Kripa, who were people he respected. These people were more responsible than Jayadratha for Abhimanyu's death, and yet Arjun is respecting them, idk how-

Arjun performed a marvelous feat in anger, he wiped out 7 akshauhinis of the Kaurava army without a divine weapon within a time span of 12 hours, and killed Jayadratha.

Arjun lost a lot in life, and by the time his end was near, he had lost someone even more dearer to him, Krishna.

Arjun spent most of his life in the forest. He sacrificed and lost a lot, yet he is termed as someone who got everything because he was supported by Krishna. If there is someone in the Mahabharata who deserves rightful recognition, then it is him.

[jonahmagnus-research]

Mr. Magnus,

Your presence (as well as the presence of other people from what I can only assume is an alternate universe to mine of some sort, from the data I've gathered) has recently come to my attention. I find this rather intriguing for several reasons: first of all, the implication of a parallel universe. Second of all, the fact that I am able to communicate with this universe via this website. Third of all, the similarities and differences present within this different universe.

It seems that you and your peers have come into contact with and studied these "Powers" that seem similar to the sort of things my office keeps track of, though you seem to have created an entirely different, much more...simple, let's say, way of categorising these Powers. Perhaps they are different in nature to the ones I've been involved with for a good majority of my life.

Regardless, I've decided to contact you for the following reasons: 1. I am fascinated by this phenomenon. 2. You seem like a rather reasonable young man. 3. I'd rather not contact the...older version of yourself, as he seems. Well, frankly, obnoxious. No offence. 4. Your last name is...familiar to me, from past events in my own universe.

Regards,

Lena Kelley, Office of Incident Assessment and Response. ( @lena-kelley-oiar )

Ms Kelley (though if I am using the wrong title, please do correct me),

It is a pleasure to speak with you, and thank you for writing to me. I too have noticed the seeming ability to communicate with people from other worlds with this site; I have spoken to an alternate version of myself who, bizarrely, married and had children.

From your description of how you and yours study the Powers of where you are issue, it does however rather seem as though your world is even more different from my own than that other me's is. I cannot dispute your statement that they are categorised in a rather simple manner, though in our defence, that is more of a framework these days than any true attempt to order them. If you are willing to speak of yours in any manner, I would be rather curious to learn of them—however, there is of course no obligation to do so; an unsecured public forum is hardly the best place to speak of Entities beyond any real comprehension of us mortals.

And do not worry, I take absolutely no offence at your description of Elias as being obnoxious—it is almost objectively true. I am glad you find my reasonable, and again I find myself interested in what you say—past events? I take it the Magnus Institute is not so well-established in your world, then. Fascinating.

Yours curiously,

Jonah Magnus

[innocentlymacabre]

NOW THEY CALL ME THE PLAGUE ⤳ writeblr garden's pumpkin pitch event

As the fright death sweeps the land, leaving a trail of lifeless sacrifices, a Dream desperately claws their way back to the Dreaming, having spent eternity trapped in the conscious realm. Rattled by the victims being left permanently contorted in fear, Trance is on the hunt for an escape more feverously than ever. They stumble across a ship otherwise concealed from prying eyes that sails across the tumultuous currents of Nightmares, and along with Eda, sets sail on adventures of multiple lifetimes, unwittingly getting themselves irreversibly entwined with fates and forces far beyond their comprehension. Now They Call me the Plague is gothic historical fiction set against the backdrop of the golden age of piracy. All that remains to be seen is how many more will fall at the altar of an unforgiving death.

COMPARISONS: Pirates of the Caribbean meets The Sandman wrapped up in Our Flag Means Death

TROPES/THEMES: Lots of tasty found family: literal ride or dies multiple times over, animal best friends, choosing them over the world over and over again, unwavering and unquestioning faith.

We also take a turn for the more serious and explore the intricate relationships we tend to develop with trauma and its pervasive, lasting effects.

Now They Call Me the Plague sits comfortably in a queernormative world, as with most of my stories. All characters are bi/pan/polysexual by default, with the only exception being Dee, who's aroace. Trance uses he/they and Dee uses she/they too.

Trance is also very clearly neurodivergent-coded.

WARNINGS: substance (ab)use, alcohol, sexual activity (implied), swearing (moderate to heavy), mental health issues, death None of these warnings are applicable to the excerpt below.

LINKS: WIP tag (x) | Ko-fi 💜☕ (x) | Writer newsletter (x)

EXCERPT: They say time slows down when you’re in the eye of the storm. When you’re seconds away from making a decision that could change your entire life in one fell swoop, the world starts to move more slowly around you, and you begin to see every tiny detail with previously unimagined clarity. Or maybe you start to move faster, whizzing around at speeds high enough to give you the time to stop and overturn each stone – either way, the world presents itself to you in the most convenient way it can; a quiet act of compassion, allowing you the luxury of altering the course of your life with conviction.

Shrouded in the darkness of the near-blackened room, I realise that might have been true at some point. It would stand to reason that it would have. Neither are presently true. When you’ve wade through the currents of time for as long as I have, time always drags around you, and you always drag through time. You’re always moving slower than everyone else, as if reality itself recognises that you’ve been around for far longer than you ought to have.

general taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @caspersgraveyard @zephsthings @mrunmione @vishuv @cloudofbutterflies @ozziesdisco @jacquesfindswritingandadvice @whimsy-of-the-stars @at-thezenith @desi-yearning @orgasming-caterpillar @rodentwrites @imnotcalledbutsummoned @athenswrites

[bunnymermaidwrites]

@writerfae ! I finally got to describing Bendegúz' dad (or I tried my best)

OKAY! LET'S TALK ABOUT BENDEGÚZ'S DAD! (Let us all pray that this will be comprehensible)

Suprise! Bendegúz actually got really upset with me for wanting to reveal his backstory, because he was really happy that there were finally people (your ocs) who didn't know, and now he's sulking in my lap, and I am trying to comfort him. He doesn't want me to talk about his daddy issues

Bendegúz: I do not have daddy issues! I do not even have a dad!... Emotionally...

Me: You do know that sounds depressing, right?

Bendegúz: And you know for a fact that it actually isn't.

Me: Fair enough!

The reason I didn't get into this when I first talked about him was because i knew the backstory would be long, and I feared it might overshadow Bendegúz himself. And I just couldn't do that to Bendegúz, because I know that he would hate that more than anything.

(Also, hoping I didn't make Bendegúz sound like an insensitive jerk, cause he's not!)

Before Bendegúz's mother (Zsuzsa) became the captain of the guard, it was his father (György (ok, these may be the wierdest names yet! This is basically the Hungarian version of George). He was a great man, almost exactly like Bendegúz in both personality and looks (except Bendegúz has his mother's eyes).

Him, his wife and Bendegúz (who was a baby at the time) were really happy.

One day, due to an accident György's wings stopped working, and he was forced to make an emergency landing in the Black swamp. He was there for only a few hours before being rescued, but whatever he saw, whatever happened to him broke him.

His wife tried to get him back on his feet. To help him. And, it seemed, very slowly, but it was working.

It was hard. He was expecting an attack at all times. He sometimes forgot he was rescued... but with the help and love of his wife, he was coming back to himself. Never fully, but very noticeably.

But one time, baby Bendegúz started crying... and György didn't see his beloved son... he saw a monster.

Zsuzsa had to stop him by hitting him over the head with a vase. When György came back to himself, he was horrified at what he'd done.

György injured baby Bendegúz. This is why he has a permanent limp.

After that, Zsuzsa moved into the castle with Bendegúz. György stayed in their old cottage on the side of the woods. The home they were supposed to be happy in.

But Zsuzsa was still helping him. She still loved him. He still loved her, and they both loved Bendegúz.

A few years later, when György was better (still not the same, he'd never be), Zsuzsa started taking Bendegúz with her to see his father. Little Bendegúz hated these visits (so much that his mom stopped taking him when he was 9) for a couple of reasons:

Bendegúz heard a lot about his father, and what he heard could be sorted into 2 categories:

He is the person who's been to the Black swamp and lived to tell the tale. He was driven mad, and he hurt his own infant son. He is a crazy forest hermit.

He was a great man, and it's a tragedy what happened to him. The ones who worked alongside him, who so much as even heard of him, miss him.

Both of these are true in some ways and false in others.

Bendegúz was never really allowed to come to his own conclusions about his dad, so as a child, he hated him (he was also, scared of him, because of the combination of what he heard, knowing that his dad injured him before, and György acted in a way that to a child would register as really scary, talking/ moving wierd)

In the present Bendegúz has very complicated feelings about his father. He doesn't hate him anymore. He feels bad for him, but also... he'd prefer if people didn't expect him to feel strongly about it.

Bendegúz loves his current life, and he gets beyond mad if someone questions that. Dad or no dad, he doesn't feel like he's missing something.

He hates being compared to his dad, he hates if people assume that he's missing someone he never knew (which can happen, but it isn't the case with him).

People assume a lot of different things about Bendegúz because of his dad.

During the story Bendegúz and Adél have to ask György what he actually saw so they can prepare and reluctantly he helps.

After the story Bendegúz offers his father friendship, which... to Bendegúz friendship is the most precious thing in the world, so it means a lot.

He doesn't want it to turn into a father-son relationship, but he does want a new relationship with him. A completely new one. No expectations. Just: You helped me save my friend, so now you are also my friend.

This is basically Bendegúz' stance on his dad. His stance that (and I can't stress this enough) he needs people to honestly believe, to not question and accept!

"I never had a dad, and I do not want a dad! I do not have "dadsy issues," and I don't want this to affect anything! I never wanted a dad. I already had all I wanted my whole life: I have Endre, Adél, Ákos, Odet-... and my mom! My mom is so good! You don't know how good... I do not want more, and I do not have to want more, no matter what anyone says! I do not care that I am like him because I am not him, I am me! Even if he was said to be great at some point I don't care, I do not have to care, and it does not effect me, because I have never met him when he was like that, and I am just me. I don't want to be more and precisely because of this I will not be more! It is my choice because I am just me and not him, or a part of him!"

Bendegúz' feelings about this are hard to describe. The most important thing you should take away from this is that this backstory might have been complicated, but the things that matter about Bendegúz the most were the things I already described to you about him. That none of this should change how you saw him before (that much).

Also, all of this makes it sound like Bendegúz is really angsty, but he's not, I swear!

(Also, any similarities to Milan are accidental, I swear, it was like this even before I started following you!)

[krimsonkatt]

Glossary of some terms important to my series

Sefiros: The tree of life that birthed all existance. Formed from a golden seed planted in the waters of chaos long ago by the goddess Barbello, every fruit the tree bears creates a new starsphere.

Starsphere: A celestial sphere containing countless planets, systems, and even galaxies, but is never any more larger than 3 galaxies total. All the fruit containing the spheres are destined to eventually wither and die, and once that happens the starsphere falls into the waters of primordial chaos to be consumed by the tree of life's roots.

Cycle of Sefiros: The cycle of worlds that are born and then recycled. Within all worlds is a device known as the Zohar Relic, a highly advanced piece of technology being human comprehension that exists in all possible places and worlds at once and can only be accessed through very specific means. The Zohar Relic observes and records the records, feats, history, ideals, and stories of all living organisms. This data, this recording of all souls from all worlds, is known as the Aekashic Records. When a world dies and is consumed by the roots of the sefiros, ceasing to exist, the data stored in the Zohar persists past the starspheres expiration. This data is then recycled in the creation of future worlds and their stories determined by providence, so that's why there are many similar characters and stories across vastly different worlds billions of years apart. This phenomenon of repeated elements, similar yet different every time they're reused, is commonly known as "Eternal Reoccurrence" and the repeating concepts themselves known as "Memes."

Providence: Barbello's astral order: providence. It is an astral order so powerful that knowledge of it's existence is strictly forbidden among anyone but the Sage Trinity and the Via Familia, who are incarnations of celestials and therefore can comprehend the unspeakable knowledge without going insane. The Tzga Order also gained privy to this forbidden knowledge, but it is only shared among certain members in secret. According to the Unspeakable Book, knowledge of Astral Order: Providence is what drove the dark god Elzakalas mad and knowledge of the "truth of reality" directly caused all suffering in the multiverse to ever occur. There's a good reason why knowledge of what Astral Order: Providence really is is strictly forbidden.

Astral Order: A higher being's most powerful art. It is a special kind of art only usable by divine beings and unlike regular arts that either cause passive effects or are direct, active special attacks, Astral Orders are arts that effect the deepest foundation of reality and can alter all of existence on a massive scale. All Astral Orders must be approved by the goddess herself, and a divine being can only have access to one astral order ever in their entire immoral lives. Examples of Astral Orders include Barbello's Astral Order: Providence and Kairos' Astral Order: Save and Reload. One of the most important Astral Orders is Mekala's, Astral Order: Mechanical World which implements RPG mechanics into the foundation of how the world works. That's why every game in the series has some sort of RPG mechanic.

Via Familia: Barbello's family and friends incarnated into the lower domain as celestials.

Sage Trinity: A triad of celestial beings who watch over the world. They include Resolute Axler, keeper of memories, Archsage Stefalis, the omniversal scribe, and Executioner Verhaegen, reaper of lost souls.

Unspeakable Book: A grimoire containing forbidden knowledge guarded by Archsage Stafalis. It is the dark counterpart to the Chronicles of Chronicles. While the CoC tells of all things past, present, and future, the Unspeakable Book tells of things beyond reality that no mortal should ever have access to.

Barbello: The creator of the lower domain and the gardener of the tree of sefiros. Also referred to as "the angel" or "the goddess." Mekala is her daughter and Elzakalas her son. She is also known by the alias "KrimsonKatt." While divine and all powerful in the lower domain, she is just an ordinary human in the upper domain.

[muzzleroars]

your blog is like a finite library where i continue to stumble upon beautiful things

thank you for your thoughts

as of the ask - how would you imagine fraud and characters in it, if you can picture it at all? between all three of the upcoming layers, this one is the most eluding one of their description, so it's always interesting to see different opinions on it

thank you so much! your art is genuinely such an inspiration, i'm always so happy to see a new piece from you and so i wanted to thank you as well for sharing your work

fraud is a very interesting layer in the inferno, with its set up being somewhat unique compared to many of the others as it consists of ten pits of torment that cover a pretty broad range of sinners. what stands out to me about it as an environment though is that it is within the walls of dis and it is a ruined city, with massive amounts of crumbling or simply destroyed architecture. this is sort of my basis for how i envision fraud and although i'm likely way off base, i think it could be interesting to see a transition in aesthetics in general past heresy.

heresy itself marks the first layer in dis, the city that consumes the lower layers of hell, and it's interesting to note the highly architectural environments it presents in game - the gothic cathedral is sharp and commanding, very much having a presence in itself. i would love to see more city-like environments included, but ones that have a distinct, alien feeling compared to those of the lust layer as they are not made by humans, it's architecture meant to torment, to enclose and to sicken, and i enjoy fraud being the pinnacle of this before it gives way to an utterly barren treachery. but importantly, i want to see the decay of fraud, to see its twisted form nearly incomprehensible in its destruction. once there stood buildings difficult for the mind to conceive, but those fell centuries ago and the damage of so many souls suddenly filling what's left of its skeletal remains only ruined them further. fully understanding and taking advantage of all the ways it can move is now vital to v1, some areas near impossible to traverse as no comprehensible paths exist (if they ever did). it would be a very tiered layer, with v1 sometimes having to ascend into different bolgia in order to make its progress - i just like the idea of playing a lot with movement and creative thinking (+ some help from explosives) to find paths forward. overall, i want the sense that this was a city but it's impossible to say anything beyond that, what's left all jarring to the senses and nearly overwhelming to look at (especially again to contrast it with treachery, a blank, unending void that barely has a single thing the eyes can find purchase on).

following that, however, i think fraud will really do something to emphasize the blindness of hell - like several people have pointed out by now, many beings lack eyes in hell, but i think the most important of these have been the angels. virtues have their eyes removed (or they simply vanish) upon descending into hell while gabriel's helmet appears sightless as well, and we now know this is likely due to god being so ashamed of it he wants no one to actually behold it. this makes fraud quite interesting for a couple reasons: in the inferno, the lower layers mark the beginning of sinners wishing for no one to lay eyes upon them as they are so humiliated by their state and who they were in life to place them so deep into hell. they attempt to hide their identities, they sometimes do not give their names, and this becomes incredibly apparent in fraud. additionally, fraud is a sin of deceit, many of the sinners there those that worked in secret to do harm, meaning even in life they wished to go unseen. so i very much think that the sightless nature of hell will be worked in deeply - i would be interested in all the husks and demons here to be without eyes, with only the machines remaining to see it. this is also another reason why i want fraud to be so difficult to look at - it doesn't want to be seen, it begs not to be perceived and it never should be. before it was only the angels that all had their eyes taken, but so deep into the layers nothing may see, everything must be sightless lest it see a world so painful and so hideous, so ugly and so embarrassing to god.

so my ideas are very much based around the actual source material of the inferno, but i do think fraud could make for some really interesting architecture. and i would sort of like to see a husk/husks that seem adapted to living in such a bizarre place, a lot like the stalkers with forms now made for vertical ascents and clawing their way over ruins, possibly translucent like so many animals that live without sun in the deep sea (not to riff too much on wrath lol). i guess in a sense it really is like those trenches or subterranean cave networks - alien and unsettling, difficult to traverse with its grotesque geography, and suited to life totally unlike that above it. fraud is a place that wants to hide, but ironically it exists as one of the most expansive layers in all of hell.