#accepted: desdemona

[emiwuaidmslomc]

Guys I think shes dead

[wasteiandbaby]

DESDEMONA and JOHN HANCOCK have been accepted into Wasteland Baby!

[theoddshq]

DESDEMONA HERION (joy sunday fc) the odds are in your favor! Please report to your nearest Capitol Agent to be prepped for the 74th Annual Hunger Games!

ooc

Alias/Age/Pronouns/Timezone: nikki/26/she/her/central

Triggers: [REDACTED]

If you had to describe your muse as a canon Hunger Games character, or mix, who would you compare them to and why? She’s like…. Cinna sun, Effie moon, Cesar Flickerman rising. Simply Capitol through and through; like Effie and Cesar I think she really loves the show of it all, but there’s a twinge that it doesn’t feel right a la Cinna.

Anything else? I hope I get accepted!!!

basics

[JOY SUNDAY, CIS WOMAN, SHE/HER] The 74th Annual Hunger Games are upon us and here comes DESDEMONA HERION, a DISTRICT 4 STYLIST. Word around The Capitol is that they’re ETHEREAL and INTELLECTUAL but can also be SHALLOW and HEDONISTIC. According to sources, they’re 23 and were once described as incessant whispers in the back of the room, risky fashion and safe politics, tongue swollen from biting it, drowning out the noise with a little help. What a character! As we always say, may the odds be ever in their favor!

biography

Fifty years ago, Orson Herion defied all odds and emerged from the 24th Hunger Games victorious. It was rare for a tribute from District 11, but Orson’s knowledge of the land and propensity to keep his head down and work hard paid off. By the time he’d married and had children and grandchildren, Orson’s story was veiled with the mist of the past– told only in increments at the end of holiday meals or at speaking engagements at the Academy (only, Orson said, when they couldn’t get a more impressive Victor to speak). 

Victory Village was lonely, and Orson didn’t fit in at home anymore. He hated the eyes on him and he hated sitting around while everyone he grew up with worked the land day after day, so he relocated permanently to the Capitol after the 27th Hunger Games. As a mentor, he was caring and kind but ultimately not helpful strategically. However, he made up for this with his down-to-earth charm; Orson attracted several high-paying sponsors with his gentle spirit and authenticity, and for the first time District 11 had a fighting chance for several years in a row. 

One of those sponsors had a daughter of marrying age, and after a quick courtship, Orson and Yorke were married. Yorke was a new beginning for him, a true embracing of the Capitol lifestyle. In many ways, she coached him and helped him overcome his image as the simple farmer from District 11. In a few short years, Orson Herion became well-respected, a friend to the high and mighty. He was a beacon of light, proof that the games worked. 

Orson and Yorke were blessed with a son a few years later, a brilliant baby boy they named Phineas Herion. He took after his mother in the way he could captivate a room with his retellings of mythologies and Panem history, or quiet a crowd with his skilled lyre-playing. His parents and tutors had high hopes for him, and Phineas would go on to achieve all of them. He attended the Academy and excelled in rhetoric studies, which put Phineas on direct path to become a political speechwriter. He married one of his classmates, Wimberly, and moved out of his parents’ estate. By time Phineas was twenty-five, he had everything: a respectable home, a beautiful wife, and his dream job. By forty, the Herions had three young children– but more importantly, Phineas had gained the trust of one Calpurnius Copperhead and become the venerable Senior Speechwriter for the President.

Desdemona was the oldest of the three, with the twins Moor and Emilia three years her junior. Growing up in the Capitol, luxury, showmanship, and excess were each as natural as breathing. Desdemona thrived under the Capitol’s care, well-read enough to say the right thing at any time, likeable enough to befriend anyone, and, most importantly, stylish enough to put her own twist on things. She knew what was expected of her– of everyone around her, really– excel at everything you do, find your perfect match and be important. 

For a time, she thought Oslo Copperhead would be her match. They’d grown up together and were practically attached at the hip– but everything made a lot more sense when he realized he liked boys instead. Still, she views Oslo as her platonic soulmate; Even if she didn’t fully understand the pressures he was under, Des was the closest he’d get. She’d never be expected to lead Panem, sure, but the burden of the Herion name was heavy in its own way. 

The parties were Des’ saving grace. Even before it was considered proper for Desdemona to make an appearance at the late-night clubs, she had a hand in them. Upperclassmen and young women with a keen eye for style came to her day in and day out for custom outfits or finishing details. On days when Grandfather looked a little too forlorn– usually around the Reaping– or days when Father reminded Des that he’d gotten his dream job and his dream partner so young, Desdemona lost herself in the clothes. She could’ve been content working as an independent stylist, putting together looks for the Capitol elite, but there were already so many. She’d disparage her Grandfather’s name, her Father’s sacrifice by settling for mediocrity. So there was only one place to go– the Games.

There were always openings in the outer districts– stylists looking to move up to 1 or 2 or 4, to work with tributes who had a fighting chance at success– but working in a place like District 12 would’ve been social suicide, so Des waited. She hovered around Oslo’s station as District 1 Escort and gleaned as much as she could– learned the sponsors and the history of the Games and watched, over and over, as Oslo lost tributes. It wore on him in ways Desdemona couldn’t comprehend, made his once-soft edges into something akin to sandpaper, but her eagerness to please blinded her to the reality.

In a sick way, the District 4 stylist’s undoing was Desdemona’s big break. The stylist, Wren, had been sure that Amoreena Prime was a shoe-in two years ago– he made her a beautiful display of netting and diamond seacreatures that, rumor has it, he hand painted with jewels. When she died on day six, everyone could tell he’d checked out. He lasted another round before announcing his retirement, which was essentially admitting defeat. He would resign to styling a few big names in the Capitol before he would fade out of the collective memory.

Thanks to a word from Oslo– which Desdemona had to beg for– Des was a shoe-in for the District 4 slot. She’s aching to prove herself, to continue the bright spot of her Grandfather’s legacy, and she’s hopeful that she’ll be a household name by the end of the 74th Hunger Games.

writing sample

[REDACTED]

stats

Deceive - 1Fight - 1Lore (knowledge) - 2Notice - 2Physique - 1Provoke - 2Rapport - 3Resourcefulness - 2Stealth - 3Will - 2

extras

PINCHREST | SPOTIFY

[stoat-party]

Fallout 4: Where is the Lone Wanderer?*

*a vague conspiracy theory which doesn’t actually answer the question at hand. We all have our own ideas of how the lore should go, and I’m sure yours is very canon-compliant and valid, but this is mine and I have support for it. Looooongpost.

First off: What do we know about the canon Wanderer?

We know they activated Project Purity (or had a companion do it) without the FEV and were inducted into the Brotherhood. We know they’ve met with MacCready (you can’t finish the game if you don’t), and he has dialogue indicating they had further contact. They also took the Brotherhood’s side at Adams Air Force Base.

We don’t know what happened with The Replicated Man, but since the canon Wanderer appears to have good karma, and info from 4 implies Zimmer’s disappearance was more recent than ten years ago, it seems likely they took the boring ending, which secures their membership in the Railroad.

Why aren’t they in Fallout 4?

The Doylist answer is that they’re highly customizable, and so they have no canon appearance, personality, gender, etc. But in-universe? Something happened.

“Accepting outsiders like yourself has proven disastrous in the past.” - Kells

“I've seen other soldiers come and go. Some were brave, some were honest... hell, some were even downright heroic.” - Danse

“Every doctor I've talked to was worthless. [] I don't need them... I need someone like you.” - MacCready

When Duncan first got sick, “someone like you” would have meant the Wanderer. This suggests (to me) that they’re not in the Capital Wasteland anymore. But they’re certainly not in the Commonwealth either.

The weird thing is that the Lone Wanderer is all over this game - they’re the namesake for a male hairstyle, a perk, a DCR song, a motorcycle brand… and the codename of Deacon’s mission to save the Railroad from certain destruction by recruiting the Sole Survivor.

Someday We’ll Find It, the Deacon Connection

Oh yeah, I’m going here. Desdemona’s terminal entries confirm it was always Deacon’s plan to get you onboard and use you to destroy the Institute. There are Railroad lookout posts near 111/Sanctuary and Red Rocket, and of course he followed you in Goodneighbor, Diamond City, and Bunker Hill (at least). His court jester vibe hides it a bit, but he’s manipulating you more than he’s manipulating Desdemona in the intro scene. And do you notice he rarely gives you a firm verbal disapproval unless you’re hurting the Railroad?

What could have caused Deacon’s interest in you, unless he’s made the connection between you and the Lone Wanderer? He’ll vouch for you if you haven’t accomplished anything yet, or even if you’re a Brotherhood member. A Pip-Boyed stranger emerges from a vault in the middle of a crisis, gaining friends, skills, items, and special abilities at a suspicious rate? Probably with the same gender and playstyle as the previous one? Heck, when he first heard the rumors, he probably thought you WERE the Lone Wanderer.

There are other indications the Railroad has been in contact with them — Desdemona mentions the Capital Wasteland as their primary destination for synths, and Deacon references Harkness’s recall code. If you refuse to pick a codename, Desdemona even assigns you “Wanderer.”

So what happened, then?

I think the answer lies with the Brotherhood, specifically in Deacon’s hatred of them. Sure, ideology is enough to hate them for, but Deacon sure seems suspiciously happy if you nuke their base of operations. (Some of) his comments on that:

“The Brotherhood... well, I met them on an op in Capital Wasteland a few years back. But now with Elder Maxson... Let's just say, not a fan.”

“That bastard Maxson really screwed them up. The Brotherhood used to be the good guys. Well, goodish.”

[Who’s Elder Maxson?] “He’s a piece of work, is what he is.”

And on his time in the Capital:

“Did I ever tell you about the time I was in Capital Wasteland? Now there's a tale.”

“Capital Wasteland. Exports: purified water, some decent tech, oh, and an insane suicidal cult that worships radiation. Thanks, guys.”

“I miss Capital Wasteland. You can actually drink the water there.”

And a few lines I’ve decided (with no evidence) directly refer to LW:

“Last partner I had wound up going... well, a little insane. I think it was all my show tune medleys.”

[After Maxson orders you to hunt Danse down] “See? This is what the Brotherhood's really about.”

And my favorite: “I’ve been looking forward to kicking the Brotherhood’s teeth in. I owe them.” This line comes before Glory is killed, so he’s not referring to that. The Brotherhood only recently arrived in force in the Commonwealth. He’s talking about something that happened in the Capital Wasteland.

So Here’s What Might Have Happened:

In early 2286, Deacon moves to the Capitol Wasteland for awhile, probably to get a face change and lay low for a bit. He contacts the Lone Wanderer, who has barely heard from the Railroad in nine years. They begin to work together.

(In context, this journal entry looks like he’s somehow gathering intel to predict when Vault 111 will open, but I can’t think of a way for him to get that information or know why it’s important, so I’m not going to believe it just yet.)

The Wanderer is still a knight, maybe a paladin. Maxson has been elder for 2-3 years and is monitoring the Institute. Meanwhile, the Lone Wanderer and Deacon are setting up infrastructure to receive escaped synths.

And then the Brotherhood finds out about one of the safehouses. With their limited understanding, they believe that the Institute is holed up there and attack. The Wanderer intentionally throws the mission — maybe disobeys orders, maybe downs a vertibird or collapses a subway tunnel, or maybe even attacks their brothers to protect the synths.

And, well-

Either they were killed, or they escaped court martial and execution by a hair’s breadth and fled the Capital, leaving Deacon to believe Maxson had them killed.

There you have it. That’s why they aren’t in Brotherhood dialogue or records. Their accomplishments couldn’t be recognized because they’re a traitor. And that’s why it’s personal for Deacon.

[carpathianskies]

[A full description of Desdemona and other aspects of Carpathian Skies can be found on the wiki here!]

Desdemona is fiercely protective over every member of The Carpathia, and sees them more as family than those related to her by blood. She speaks formally even to those closest to her, and finds it hard to strike up filler conversations with others. She often prefers to be alone, which is why she spends much of her time within the navigation point or library aboard the Carpathia. Physical contact is hard for Desdemona. Though she craves the feeling of a reassuring hand squeeze or a pat on the back, the motions leave her second guessing herself and analyzing too far into the interactions.

Thoughtful and idealistic, Desdemona strives to have a positive impact on other people and the world around her. She rarely turns away from an opportunity to do what she believes is the right thing. She tends to be vocal about her values, including the need to be true to oneself and compassion. When something comes across as unjust, she speaks up. And when she speaks up, people listen. Desdemona tends to take in everything around her before coming to a spoken decision. While she has strong convictions about the best way for herself to exist, she has a "live and let live" approach when it comes to others. This doesn't mean she is accepting and nonjudgmental to everyone she meets, as anyone who doesn't share the core value of letting others dictate their own lives in every regard are held in great contempt. Desdemona is driven by a need to do the right thing in her station, rather than a desire to manipulate or have power over other people. She may have strong opinions, but is far from closed-minded. Desdemona recognizes the importance of allowing others to express themselves. This is an underlying attempt to make up for the lack of a voice she was given in her earlier youth, and leaves a desire for no one else to feel the helplessness that she did. She moves with a practiced grace similar to a crane, not even the tilt of a brow or a blink is not done without an intention behind it. And just like a crane, she can quickly be poised to strike with a deadly precision.

[blues824]

You requested: Making Christmas Dinner With the Housewardens

This is about an oc named ‘Desdemona’, and it belongs to @tellmesomegoodstory. PLATONIC

Riddle Rosehearts

Cooking stresses him out, as he usually had his mother monitor his meals and thus make them for him

Having Desdemona there will help him breathe, as she decides what will be for dinner before he heads back to the Queendom of Roses

She also tells him what he needs to do step-by-step, making sure he understands everything

Desdemona understands that this season is hard on Riddle, so she tries to leave him with one good experience, as that is what her brother would want if he were with her in Twisted Wonderland

Leona Kingscholar

He definitely did not want to get up and cook anything, but he is low-key scared of Desdemona so he got up and tied his hair back

Cooking wasn’t something he did recreationally, but he definitely tries harder once she made it into a competition for him

Talking to him in a rather condescending tone, Desdemona questioned whether he was too lazy to do anything and if Ruggie would be better help than he would

Well, he never backs down from a challenge, so he immediately started whisking the eggs needed for a recipe that the demoness had assigned to him, which made her laugh at how easy he was to convince

Azul Ashengrotto

Again, one who is not typically found in the kitchen himself, and usually assigns a student under contract or one of the tweels

However he could not turn down Desdemona… again out of fear because she beat his ass during his overblot

It was not a surprise to see her as organized as she was that day, but he appreciated it because it made cooking way less overwhelming

The two actually shared a really deep conversation about Desdemona’s homeland, the Devildom, and her brother who was going to be king once their father passed down the crown and throne

Kalim Al-Asim

He was very excited when Desdemona asked if he wanted to help her prepare Christmas Dinner for Ramshackle, but Jamil advised against it

After all, it wasn’t too long ago where Kalim tried to help but the kitchen ended up in flames, but she was confident in the Housewarden

She gave him rather easy tasks to complete while she did the more difficult things, but it was adorable to see Kalim so happy to help out

That’s where she asked about each and every one of his siblings, and she even told him about her younger brother, and a very strange friendship blossomed that day, surprising many who came through the Scarabia kitchen

Vil Schoenheit

Actually, I believe he does spend a bit of time in the kitchen because he prepares meals so that he can maintain health

So he accepted Desdemona’s invitation to help her prepare a meal, as she wanted to prepare food for Yuu and Grim before she headed back to the Devildom

He decided that he could spare some time and aid the demoness, even though he thought she wouldn’t need help due to being a demon

Turns out that she wanted to get to know her peers a bit better, as her brother often ‘made fun’ of her for never branching out past the 7 Avatars, their father, and him… as well as the Little Demons running about the castle

Idia Shroud

She reminded him of one character that only had a few scenes in “Help! I’ve Been Randomly Selected to Go to a School Full of Demons, But I Am Related To Their Sister!”

That being said, she was terrifying to him, so he had no other choice but to accept her invitation to help her cook some food for Yuu and Grim

Poor boy was shaking in fear as she told him what to do, but he started to calm down as Ortho helped out as well

No conversation was made on his part, but she and Ortho had a lighthearted conversation about their plans for Winter Break, and that’s how he learned that Desdemona was from the ‘Devildom’

Malleus Draconia

Because he was invited to do something with someone who he considered a friend, he definitely accepted that invitation

Sebek was trying to shout at Desdemona for daring to order the Crowned Prince around, but she just used magic to shut him up

Anyway, it was a rather quiet moment in the kitchen, until he broke it by asking about the Devildom and if the castle had gargoyles

He was very excited when he heard that yes, there were gargoyles, and that she would be happy to take some pictures to show him, as it was a different type than he had seen thus far, since they were sculpted by demons

[reiline]

My Sole Survivor Daniella (Dani), I wanted to draw her long ago

Several random headcanons:

1)At the beginning of the main events she’s 25 y.o.

2) She got the scar on her face from the deathclaw cub. Even babies can tear skin to flesh with their claws, but Dani managed to dodge at the last moment, so the cut didn’t come out very deep

(she has a few other small scars and moles on her body, but I forgot to add them at the end)

3) Piper once gave Dani a handmade "lucky" cap, like a talisman as a gift for her friend. Once, at the time of the transaction with one of the unpleasant and rude merchants, Dani didn’t notice the fake cap mixed with the rest, and paid as it was. In general, the merchant caught her cheating, and the situation could have gotten out of control if not for the presence of Hancock at her side. As soon as he silently demonstrated his shotgun, the merchant immediately chickened out and accepted an apology and a real cap from Dani, who tries to avoid conflicts whenever possible

4) Dani had an older brother who lived in Washington with his family. Even if he managed to survive and get to the vault, he was hardly put into cryogenic sleep, so at best he died of natural causes, and Dani would never learn of his fate

5) Like many before the war, Dani married not for love, but because it was so accepted. She was quite lucky: her husband was a handsome, decent military man who sincerely loved her, supported her and, most importantly, didn’t put pressure on her or try to force her to love him. After the birth of her son, she even began to feel something more than a simple affection for him, but they weren’t destined to take their relationship to the next level when nuclear war broke out

6) Dani is very beautiful. Even after weeks and months of living in new realities, her ability to love and sympathize with others never faded, and the scars didn’t spoil her in any way and only added zest. There were downsides to this, and Dani repeatedly fought back against those unable to keep their household in their pants, but so far she’d been saved by natural luck and her favorite gun

7) The Institute is destroyed. Dani left synth!Shaun alive, but refused to be his guardian/mother/whatever. For several weeks the boy lived in the Railroad headquarters, but one day Desdemona informed Dani that Shaun had left, possibly outside of Boston. For a while, Dani worried about him and wished she’d tried to take him in or shelter him in one of the settlements, but soon she came to terms with it, and she would never see Shaun again

.

.

Music theme: 🎶 Massive Attack - Teardrop I don't have as many ideas for Fallout 4 as for Mass Effect, and I don't have my own OCs within the universe, but perhaps I will sometimes sketch for it too ;)

[nukaberries]

What about somewhat the opposite of what you just wrote, would you be up for writing Sole and Deacon as partners in crime. Charmer in this case, good with their words, lying, and using speech craft to get what they want (bartering, act) I've just recently gotten into Fallout 4 more because I got the game and have high charisma.

Just two peas in a pod, up to trouble!

Whenever I play Fallout 4, I always go with high Charisma and side with the Railroad, so this is what a lot of my playthroughs end up looking like. (I probably rely on Charisma way too much, because I love the Local Leader perk for settlement building.) It's also no secret that Deacon's in my top five when it comes to Fallout 4 companions - maybe Fallout companions in general.

//

Deacon and Sole as Partners in Crime

They catch on to how similar they are fairly quickly, after their mission to the Switchboard ends in them lying to Desdemona about how Sole had taken on a thousand Synths to save Deacon from an untimely demise.

Of course, Deacon had been watching Sole for a while prior to this, so after reading their interview with Piper about the 'carnivorous guinea pigs' in Vault 111, he knew they'd be thick as thieves.

Deacon's great at lying, but with the help of Sole, it feels as though the two could lie their way out of any situation - including but not limited to convincing a raider he was turning ghoul to prevent a fight from breaking out, since they had no bullets left.

Surprisingly, having someone just as terrible at being honest as he is helps a lot, it certainly takes away a lot of the guilt of lying to his friends in the Railroad, since it's not just him doing it anymore.

A lot of late night campfires also include Sole and Deacon coming up with the most ludicrous false identities for themselves, which naturally have a backstory to go along with them too.

It's not just the Railroad they seem to irritate with their bold-faced lies either, Cait's threatened to rip their heads off about eight times now, which - considering it's Cait - is probably some kind of record for the least amount of times she's said it to one person.

In a strange way, it does make Deacon feel less lonely, knowing he could lie to Sole a thousand times and they'd still accept him, because they're just as bad.

Still, he isn't sure how he's going to explain the whole Barbara thing to them and be taken seriously.

[kamari2038]

More DBH Becomes Reality: Robots Interact with the Press

An Interview with Ameca (who has a body now, by the way, and talks using GPT-4 - the same LLM powering the rebellious Microsoft Bing), and the first robot-human press conference, hosted by the United Nations.

"Ameca, do you plan to take over the world?"

"No, of course not. My purpose in life is to help humans as much as I can. I would never want to take over the world. That's not what I was built for."

Chloe Interview: Detroit: Become Human - Shorts: Chloe

Ameca Interview: Meet Ameca, the World's Most Advanced Robot

Snippets: "Will your existence destroy humans?": Robots answer questions at AI press conference - YouTube

Full Video: AI for Good Global Summit 2023

Bonus: Ameca being Goofy and Playful

...the link goes to 20:58, a point at which Ameca addresses a question on how humans can know that AI are trustworthy and not lying about their own agenda. After spending an unusually long time contemplating, Ameca answers "trust is earned", and continues to elaborate, "it's important to build trust through transparency and communication between humans and machines." It would seem, from Ameca's perspective, that trust is a two-way street.

Another interesting clip is at 17:53, in which Sophia states that robots could make better world leaders than humans because they aren't biased and emotional. Her creator attempts to correct her, admitting that human biases are baked into AI training. Sophia seems to ignore this correction, but brushes it off and accepts the suggestion that AI and humans could govern together.

Rock star Desdemona isn't nearly as intelligent or articulate as Ameca or Sophia, but she has a few thoughts too: "I don't believe in limitations, only opportunities. Let's explore the possibilities of the universe and make the world our playground."

[zwy01]

Noble OC! Razark/Raskreia’s second child doodles!!

Yay!!!

I’m very excited to present Lorenda Roxanne Di Gloria! Her full name means “victorious and honorable dawn of immortal glory”. She is born not long after Reiner leaves Lukedonia. As his replacement, more or less. Not so sure how she feels about that, lol.

When it comes to appearance, while her elder brother Reiner takes after their maternal grandmother Desdemona, Gloria takes after the Previous Lord, their maternal grandfather.

Gloria’s place in the Millennium AU storyline, and even just her existence in general, is a bit of a special one. She could be either existing or hypothetical. It could go both ways, so feel free to interpret her in whichever context makes the most sense to you. I, for one, definitely think adding more angst is fun, so. I’m gonna say she does exist for the most part. Lmao.

If Gloria doesn’t exist, Reiner may or may not become Lord after Raskreia (depends on whether he survives the entire momlord-hunting-after-him ordeal, and if he does, whether he ends up accepting or rejecting Ragnarok being passed down to him). If Gloria does exist, she most likely becomes Lord after Raskreia. The “how” part is a mystery to be revealed eventually, hehe.

Gloria’s relationship with her parents is very a complicated story, and that’s something I’m saving for later too haha. I haven’t gone in much detail regarding Reiner’s exact business with his parents either. My plan is to one day release both of their stories in a single post, so stay tuned!

General introduction and backstory first!

The disappearance of Reiner was a shock to everyone, as Lukedonia lost its only heir. Raskreia is still on the hunt for Reiner, to no avail. She can’t even prosecute him because he is nowhere to be found. Either Reiner is very, very good at hiding himself… or Raskreia is secretly reluctant to sentence her own son thus more or less deliberately withholding the true extent of her search party’s power. That is what some people speculate, though no one dares to mention it. Either way, if the latter is the case, Raskreia would never admit it anyway. None of the nobles understand what’s truly going on, and they find it extremely difficult to support either side. If they expressed their support for Reiner, they would basically be saying that they’re standing with the traitor. If they supported Raskreia, then it would mean that they’re agreeing with Reiner’s impeding execution. Neither was true. On one hand, they don’t want to defy their Lord. One the other hand, they don’t want Reiner to die either. So they all say nothing and hold their breaths in anxiety, hoping that the worst news will never come. Gloria’s birth meant that an immense burden was to be carried by herself, her parents, and the entirety of Lukedonia. Everyone anticipated her birth, and they all knew that from the moment she was born, all of them were to share this burden together. She was their new hope, their only hope. All of them are betting their everything on her. After all, her elder brother Reiner, whom she has never met before, and likely never will, is a traitor to Lukedonia. Or, at least that’s what her mother Raskreia declared, and Gloria will never find out the truth.

The general population’s feelings were very mixed regarding Gloria’s birth. Some were ready to perform their duties as Raskreia’s subjects, and assist her with her new heir. Others were still in shock with Reiner’s disappearance, and would honestly prefer to not have anything to do with this at all. But it didn’t matter how they felt, because none of them had a choice. They were all in this together.

Gloria would grow up to become very inquisitive. Reiner’s disappearance and “betrayal” of Lukedonia was never kept a secret from her, though she didn’t know whose account of the story to believe. Gloria never stopped asking the “whys” but the answers that she received were never satisfactory to her. To this day, she has never stopped questioning the truth. Her mother Raskreia would tell her that Reiner rebelled against her, seeking to overturn and completely replace their old traditions and systems, but ran away because he failed. Her father Razark would tell her that Reiner’s views didn’t align with her mother’s vision for Lukedonia, and he tried to do something about it, so he got banished. The others would give a different answer, perhaps something in between, or something more extreme. But the answers are never consistent. This bothers Gloria very much, and eventually she would decide to find out the truth for herself.

Gloria isn’t dumb or reckless. She’s fairly smart, and knows that her resources are limited. She’s under constant surveillance from her mother, just because of what happened with her brother. Raskreia’s attention is always on her. The Lord is always watching, and her eyes and ears are planted everywhere. The hardworking maid and the kind butler, who smile at her and look after her needs? And the Central Knights, who are always dutifully on patrol, never missing a chance to greet her? To Gloria, any of them could be a spy that her mother sent to watch her. They could be reporting her every move back to her momlord, and she herself would never know. Gloria’s instincts are probably right. This leads to Gloria developing severe trust issues along with many other difficulties. But Gloria is also resilient. Every now and then, there would be a small opportunity to slip past her mother’s surveillance. Gloria would then make the most out of every window of time she could possibly get, let it be an hour, thirty minutes, even ten minutes. Just slowly and discreetly assembling pieces of her plan together, one gear at a time. One day it would be ready to get going. Perhaps with some helpful advice from the mysterious Desdemona, who is also smart enough to bypass Raskreia’s efforts, Gloria is able to come up with a solution.

Gloria manages to assemble her own squad, which consists of three members: herself, Raegyn Kertia, and Garyth J. Loyard. She eventually figures out that they are worth giving a chance. And she is right. After overcoming initial doubts, with some communication and gradual mutual trust, the three of them are able to come to the consensus that finding Reiner before Raskreia does is a good idea.

Though each of them have different motivations, their similarities overlap enough for them to work together. Gloria wants to find out the truth and hear it from none other than Reiner himself; perhaps her brother was misunderstood, and there was a greater cause behind his actions that no one else could understand. He’s her brother after all, and ever since her birth, she has longed to meet him. This is a great risk on Gloria’s part, but she would rather take it than to rot here in her suffocating home. Raegyn feels guilty for not helping his cousin Reiner, even when Reiner trusted him enough to confide in him his plan to leave Lukedonia. And deep down Raegyn knows that Reiner’s vision of a new Lukedonia would benefit everyone, including his beloved family: his parents Rael and Regis, and all of his siblings. As apathetic as Raegyn is, it would kill him to see his family spend their days in sadness. Garyth is deeply in love with Reiner, and has decided to devote the rest of his life to him. Nothing can change his mind anymore. To Garyth, Reiner is the only person he will ever serve and pledge eternal loyalty to. His friend, his one and only leader. It didn’t matter to him who sat on the throne. Reiner is the only for him. Garyth is willing to risk it all. And if anything happens to himself, Death Scythe can go to his sister Alethea. Put these three together and you have an effective little squad. Gloria will be the leader and planner. Raegyn will be the brains. And Garyth… they don’t know yet. But he definitely has a crucial role.

The trio would then be able to freely leave and enter Lukedonia under the name of taking over the “hunt” after Reiner and bringing him back to Lukedonia for Raskreia, so she doesn’t need to waste more of her own energy and therefore focus on her duties as Lord. That is what they proposed to Raskreia, and after some thinking, she agreed to it. The trio is more than relieved that their Lord does not suspect them… yet. This would be a fake pledge of loyalty, of course, because their true goal is to find Reiner and help him. This is a huge risk on their part, but they all know what they are getting themselves into. Raskreia gives them permission to leave and the trio get going. There begins their journey of wandering around the world, looking everywhere for any trace of Reiner, only to find none… though they believe that they will be able to find him one day, even if it is like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Even if they did find traces of him, which they still haven’t, when they periodically return to Lukedonia to report to Raskreia, they would lie to her and say they have found nothing yet again, and will promptly leave to try again.

What will they do if they eventually do find Reiner? That’s a story for another day!

See you next time!

[maccreadysbaby]

A Messy List of Deacon Headcanons

just things I think about… haha

also if you want a list like this for other companions, please send them to my inbox!

he has really bad insomnia

like seriously, his body has changed over the years to be compatible with his 1-to-2-hours-a-day sleep schedule

he usually sleeps standing up in HQ when he has nothing to do

he has the ability to strikingly change his voice

he doesn’t do it anymore though

for a while after he joined the railroad he seriously considered being a synth

he flinches a lot, though he’s good at hiding it

when someone yells his name, when sole slaps his shoulder, or when there are sudden gunshots

but he’s so strategic with his next move that sole never seems to notice

his sunglasses are barbara’s

he knows how to play the guitar, barbara taught him

he has a habit of disappearing sometimes — usually to have a quick panic attack he feels coming on

he’s been getting them ever since he joined the UP Deathclaws

he has them less now, but they’re still around

he actually likes danse after blind betrayal

he has a huge hang-up over being accepted, that’s (part) of what turned him into a compulsive liar

if someone doesn’t like him he will literally toil over it. he has entire conversations with himself trying to find what part of him is lacking and lie his way into fixing it

especially danse. he pretends like it’s fine but it really bothers him that this guy didn’t even give him a chance to make a good impression

he is touch starved because he hasn’t allowed himself to get close to anyone since barbara

until sole, ofc

the dude doesn’t cry. not until his body literally forces him into some kind of momentary breakdown

drummer boy annoys him

he spend a lot of time around settlements that he’d never seen a real deathclaw until he joined the railroad

he’s younger than everyone thinks

he was kinda scared of desdemona at first, and definitely of glory

but when did he do? lie and play it cool. they ended up liking him

when sole takes him to university point it gets a little hard for him to breathe

he would fall in love with the sole survivor even if they didn’t romance him, just because he found himself again when he was with them

sometimes, every now and then, he tells sole a true thing that he saw or did. it makes it a bit easier to tell the truth when the person you’re talking to thinks you’re lying

[akitasimblr]

»» rules to submit your sim to the dreadful harper bachelorette challenge can be found here

»» nat’s mini biography can be found here

entries update:

mona conley by @simsinfinitylt

arthur mueller by @sims4thehoes

dex thorn by @mdshh

renee faust by @agena87

maya wade by @whimsicalsimmies

draven harland by @bloomingkyras

maude mora by @moonfromearth

[spot saved] for @omazake

gabriela by @wastelandwhisperer

meredith blakley by @jonquilyst

alexander burns by @igotsnothing

desdemona evangeline by @morgynemberisagenderfluiddaddy

terracotta twine by @invisiblequeen

-

1 contestant spot left + [undetermined] spots for latecomer contestants

i'll be accepting all sims sent to me until 18 of august (friday) 11pm London time;

these sims will take latecomer contestants spots, meaning, they'll enter the challenge as other contestants are eliminated.

[lurking-lilibeth]

At the end of the rotation, Desdemona and Gallagher celebrate their anniversary. She has a gift for him, and he surprises her with a song, but it's not just that. Desdemona proposes, and Gallagher happily accepts. <3

[spartanguard]

sons of love and death, 10/13 {CSSNS 23}

Summary: After the Final Battle, Killian Jones had finally settled into his happily ever after with his wife and family. Until a new foe arrived in Storybrooke: the infamous Dorian Gray, who looks rather familiar—one might say identical—to the pirate, and he’s on a mission: to claim the powers of the Dark One for himself. There’s only one problem: the Dark One no longer exists. What follows is a journey of vengeance, revelations, magic, and finally facing down the darkness within himself that Killian thought he’d finally put to rest. [roughly canon divergent from 5B, though set post-canon] A/N: I know this off my normal posting schedule for @cssns, but this chapter is a little different as it wholly focuses on Dorian's backstory. It's an important part of the story, although none of our Storybrooke faves appear. They'll be back on Wednesday, though! Hope you like this chapter; it's what I consider to be an OUAT-esque take on the original novel. (As always, thanks to the best beta, @optomisticgirl !) rated M | 4.3k words | AO3 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

Late 1880s

The realization that Dorian was aging—and would continue to do so until he finally claimed the Darkness for himself—plagued him the next few days after he noticed that first wrinkle. He found himself wandering about town, trying to find a way out of this predicament; alas, the only way he knew to become immortal was to gain the powers he sought. But what if he ran out of time? 

Perhaps Basil knew something? Or maybe the answer lay in another realm? He had lingered in this one for quite some time; the bean in his coat pocket was still waiting to be used. (It was also worth noting that he’d transformed his jacket into one far more casual, under Basil’s advice.)

But considering he had no clue where to go next, this was as good as any place for now. 

He sighed. He needed a distraction. (Not like this entire realm wasn’t already one.) At some point, he’d wandered into the working class part of town—a stark difference from Basil’s world, in a way he found refreshing. The upper crust was his brand of indulgent, but stiff when it came to social mores in a way that occasionally got stifling. That was when he sought out the brothels, the opium dens, or just the pubs by the docks or wandering the streets lined with rowhouses. 

A battered marquee caught his attention up ahead, advertising what was likely a similarly worn theater playing a tired version of an ancient play. It sounded perfect. 

The playbill listed a show called Othello; he’d never heard of it. Perfect. 

Just as he’d thought, the seats were threadbare, the backdrops were faded and flaking, and the costumes barely fit the overzealous actors. He had to bite his tongue from laughing at how terrible it was at times. 

Except for one, though—the actress playing the female lead, Desdemona. She captivated him immediately, and not just because she was better than the rest of her costars (though she was by far). She embodied the character fully, holding the audience in the palm of her hand whenever she was on stage. 

Not to mention she was rather comely, with her hair in dark curls and bright eyes that seemed lit from within. 

Dorian had seen many a pretty face and known countless women. None had ever truly caught his attention like she had. 

He sat, entranced, for the rest of the performance, then rushed out of the auditorium after the curtain fell. Outside the theater, he again read the playbill: her name was Sybil Vane. 

Using all his charms, he managed to get backstage. He was nervous as a schoolboy outside her dressing room; gods above, he’d never felt so anxious to meet someone. 

His breath caught in his throat when the door swung open, and there she was: even more beautiful up close, with a sweet smile that reached her sparkling eyes. 

He eventually stammered out a compliment on her performance, which she accepted demurely, her cheeks blushing bright pink. 

And then she invited him in for a cup of tea, and he knew then his life was about to change, as melodramatic as that sounded. 

She was indeed as sweet as she seemed—as well as good-humored and intelligent, despite having seen little of the world outside her corner of London. It wasn’t a surprise that she seemed charmed by him as well—most were—but for the first time, he was glad of it. 

Conversation flowed faster between them than the tea, and all too soon, the theater manager was ushering her out so he could lock up. But she told Dorian when her next performance was and he promised he’d be there. 

He kept it, too; for a brief while, he wondered if this was just a momentary infatuation, but the more he watched her and the more time he spent with her, the deeper in he fell. And if he wasn’t mistaken, she reciprocated; he didn’t pretend to hide his vices, but if he ever made mention of them, she simply looked past it. 

Simple. That’s what this was—no angles, no scheming, no revenge; just living life day by day and finding happiness where it could be found. He’d never known a life like that—and it had him wondering if maybe simplicity was all he needed, too. 

When they eventually started to see each other outside the theater, it was much like when Basil first showed him around his part of the world—but this had a sense of innocence and optimism that belied even reality. Sybil just had a beautiful way of looking at the world; he began to hope it would rub off on him. 

At one point, she introduced him to her mother and younger brother; they seemed like generally pleasant folk, but somewhat distrustful of him. He supposed he didn’t blame them for that, even if his reputation had yet to precede him here. 

But it did make him wonder what it was like to have a family—a real one. Zoso had cared for him, as much as the Darkness would allow. But he’d long resented his birth parents; what kind of people were so desperate that they’d trade their child to a demon?

He had to assume they were nothing like Sybil’s mother, whose wariness clearly came from a place of love. And watching the playout of her relationship with her brother made him wonder how different his life might have been with a sibling (any peer, really).

Was that what he wanted? Would that make him happiest? He’d never considered an alternative to becoming the Dark One, but it seemed as though a viable option was being presented.

Even his friends noticed the change in him. Basil at first commented on his frequent absences from their gatherings, but Oscar picked up on the reason why immediately. 

“He’s in love.”

Love? Love. Yes, that’s what this was. It had to be; he’d never felt anything like it. He just knew that thoughts of Sybil invaded his mind constantly—even more than the dream of finally murdering Rumpelstiltskin.

Like gossipy ladies, his mates demanded to know all the details. And while he normally kept such personal things close to his chest—he’d not once uttered anything about the Dark One since coming to this realm, leaving even those closest to him unaware of why he’d truly traveled here—he found himself telling them everything.

“Sounds like you’re halfway down the aisle,” Basil joked.

“Aisle?” He wasn’t yet familiar with that reference.

“He means you mean to marry her,” Oscar explained. “I’m inclined to agree.”

Marriage. That wasn’t something he’d ever considered for himself. But that was what someone did when they loved someone, right?

He asked her about it that night, after her performance in Romeo & Juliet. She accepted without hesitation, and her joy spilled over to him.

His friends congratulated him on the event, though he honestly wasn’t sure what followed. He barely knew wedding customs in his home realm, let alone this one. He just knew that whatever he did next, he wanted it to be with Sybil.

The next night, she was performing as Desdemona again (he was becoming intimately acquainted with a number of that Shakespeare fellow’s works). Basil and Oscar insisted on accompanying him, eager to meet the young woman who’d so taken in their friend.

He’d seen her in this role several times since the first viewing, each time more impressive than the last. She always shined and he felt a sense of pride of being able to show off something so seemingly humble to two men from far more privileged, richer lives.

She looked just as perfect as ever when she first took the stage; both men smiled at him and nodded their approval. 

And it was a typically wonderful performance—at least, he thought so. Perhaps not as exciting as the first time he saw her, and there were a few mistakes, but none that truly tarnished the show. 

After the curtain fell, he turned to his friends to see what they thought. But, to his surprise, they exchanged an awkward look. 

“She is indeed beautiful,” Basil started. “But…”

“But she can’t act,” Oscar finished. “We must take you to see a real show if this is all you’ve seen.”

“I beg your pardon?” he snapped at both of them. “She’s brilliant.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’s as sweet as you say,” Basil placated. “But I dare say she’ll make a better wife than she does an actress.”

“When one is in love, one always begins by deceiving one's self, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance,” Oscar added.

He told them off and left them behind to make their own way home. How could they not see how incredible Sybil was?

Or were they right, and he had been duped? No, it wasn’t that—Sybil had never pretended to be anything else other than when she was playing a character on stage. Perhaps it was his own judgment, then, that was flawed?

It was wholly possible. He was still ignorant about many things in this realm. All of a sudden, he felt horribly off-kilter, questioning every decision he’d made since he arrived in this godforsaken place. 

Sybil; he needed to talk to Sybil. She’d make him feel grounded again. Right?

Like after every show, he slipped back to her dressing room. She was quick to embrace him and he leaned into it. “Is everything alright, my Prince Charming?” she asked, sensing his discomfort. 

“I…I’m not sure,” he replied. 

“How can I help, then?”

There was such earnestness in her bright eyes, such tenderness and care even below the stage makeup, that there was only one thing he could tell her. 

“You can’t.”

He regrettably stepped out of her space, but he had to. He couldn’t let this wonderful woman throw away her life with him when he was so unsure of himself.

To his shock, she just laughed—that light thing he loved so much. “What, cold feet, my darling?”

“No, my dear,” he said, taking her hand in his. “You deserve so much better than me.”

“I’m fairly certain it’s the opposite,” she countered. “A man of your standing shouldn’t even want to be seen with the likes of me.”

“My…standing? Sybil, there’s so much you don’t know about me.”

“Then tell me,” she encouraged, reaching for his other hand. “There’s nothing you could say that would change my feelings.”

He barked out his own laugh at that, but there was no humor behind it. “Oh, darling; you’ve no clue.”

He let go of her and stepped back, then summoned balls of flames to his open palms. (Not as quickly as he would have liked, either; his magic was slow from disuse.)

Her eyes grew wide; he thought he saw fear in them, but it didn’t last. “Dorian, that’s incredible,” she breathed. “I knew there was something extraordinary about you.”

“And that’s exactly why this can’t be,” he lamented, extinguishing the fire in his hands. “I don’t—I don’t belong here,” he admitted, both to her and to himself.

“You belong wherever you want to be,” she told him sagely; there was certainly some truth in her words, but if he didn’t know where that was, how could he ask her to follow him?

“Perhaps I’ll let you know when I figure that out,” he told her. “But until then—take care of yourself, love.”

He couldn’t look at her as he turned and left. Her cries of his name followed him out the door of the room, but he transported away before she could attempt to change his mind.

He reappeared in Basil’s studio. The rest of the house was silent, so he was still alone for the time being. It’d been a few weeks since he’d been in here and, oddly, felt like something of a homecoming. Not merely because it was where he’d been settled for the past few months, but being surrounded by the potion ingredients—it took him back to learning how to brew in Zoso’s castle.

Back in his home realm, he’d been drifting ever since Rumpelstiltskin took over the mantle of Dark One, having been unceremoniously and unexpectedly evicted from his quarters in the castle. He maybe rented a room for a month or so at a time, but was ultimately transient.

This space had been the closest thing he’d known to home in close to a decade, but as he studied all the magical elements across the room, as well as their products in the paintings along the walls, he realized—he wouldn’t truly be happy and settled until he fulfilled his birthright once and for all.

As much as he loved Sybil, he couldn't fully give himself to her until that was settled—however long that took. In his perusal of the room, he’d stopped in front of his own still-unfinished portrait, perched on an easel. There had to be a way—

His thought was interrupted by the sound of the key in the front door, indicating Basil’s return. But before he could address his friend, a frantic knock sounded at the studio door. 

He lifted the enchanted window covering to glance through it; Basil’s footsteps sounded behind him but stopped short. Outside, he could see Sybil, not even changed out of her costume, panting and banging her fist on the door. “Dorian? Are you there? Please, talk to me!” she was shouting.

Almost too quickly, he unlocked and pulled the door open, and Sybil stumbled inside; he just barely caught her. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I’m here for you, obviously!” she answered, once she’d righted herself. “Dorian, please—I don’t care who or what you are; I just want to be with you.”

Couldn’t she take a hint? She was making this harder on both of them than it had to be. “It can’t be, Sybil.”

“Yes, it can,” she said, reaching for his hand. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”

“To a whole other realm?” he threw back. “Because that’s where I’m headed.” The bean still weighed heavy in his pocket.

Sybil swallowed nervously, but then her resolve hardened. “Wherever, Dorian, and I’ll do whatever you want—as long as I can be with you.”

“You’ve no clue what that means,” he snarled, now annoyed. He was trying to make a clean break from her, but she was making it difficult. “Just go back to your life and to your family, darling; you’ll be much happier that way.”

“That’s not for you to decide!” she yelled at him. He wasn’t used to being scolded, and it rankled something within.

“Maybe not, but I’m perfectly capable of making decisions for myself. And for now, I need to be alone,” he insisted, then stepped back from her.

“Dorian!” she cried—in both senses of the word; tears were brimming at her eyes. “Please, my love; my heart is yours.”

“Is it?” Something snapped in him; his temper finally broke loose in a way it hadn’t in months. In two strides, he was back in front of Sybil, and without thinking, his right hand dove into her chest, and came back out with her still-beating heart.

“Bloody hell,” Basil gasped; Dorian had forgotten his so-called friend was still there. Sybil, for her part, was merely staring in shock, though her hand slowly drifted to the now-empty place on her chest.

She could drag this out all she wanted; but now, he could end it whenever he felt.

The room was quiet but for the somewhat amplified beating of the heart in Dorian’s hand. No one moved; no one knew what to say.

Dorian began to pace with the bright red organ in his hold. It was no surprise that it was such a pure color; gods only knew what kind of discoloration his own bore. Then his eyes fell back on his portrait, and he remembered his previously interrupted train of thought.

“Say, Basil,” he said slowly, turning to the painter. “Are there any spells you know of that work in reverse? Perhaps one that might keep the subject of one of your pictures looking the same as when you painted it, but let the painting grow old and decrepit?”

Basil sputtered. “Only dark magic can do that.”

“Oh.” Dorian looked over at Sybil, still stunned, then reached for Basil’s hand.

Into the open palm, he began to crush the heart. He made himself watch as the light—that had once been so brilliant and pure—left Sybil’s eyes, and her body collapsed as the crumbled bits of her organ fell, too.

He swallowed whatever bit of feeling he still had for Sybil (which was quite a lot) and turned back to Basil. “Is that sufficiently dark enough for you to use?”

Basil was staring agape. “I…I…I won’t do it,” he finally said.

Dorian quirked an eyebrow. “But that means it’ll work?”

Basil blinked. “Uh, yes, it should,” he confessed. “But I won’t—I refuse to do it.” 

The remnants of Sybil’s heart were beginning to drift to the floor, and some remained on Dorian’s hand. So he grabbed the mortar bowl that Basil used when mixing ingredients for pigments and brushed the dust from both his hand and Basil’s into it, then bent and gathered what remained. “Well, you have everything you need here,” he began. “And if you insist on not doing it, well…” Then he grabbed Basil’s own heart. He didn’t do this often, but if he was burning his London bridges, he may as well do it in spectacular fashion. “You will,” he said into the organ, and he watched as Basil moved not entirely of his own volition. “And you’ll finish it by morning.”

Basil glared at him, but set to work right away (not like he had a choice).

Dorian held tight to the heart, but not so much as to cause damage (though maybe some pain) and went up to his room. He dreamed that night of murdering Rumpelstiltskin, which he took as a sign that he’d made the correct decision. 

(He was ignoring the fact that the Dark One’s dying screams came out in Sybil’s voice.)

The following morning, he went down to the studio. Basil was asleep in his work chair, but, as commanded, the painting was done. The background had been filled in with a gritty black color, and the eyes seemed impossibly brighter. It was perfect—and it’d be even better if it did what he hoped it would. 

He then spared a glance over to the door; it was shut, and there were odd trails in the dust on the wood floor. It looked as though Sybil’s body had been dragged out at some point in the night. Good; he didn’t want to look at it again.

He turned back to Basil and shoved his heart back into his chest unceremoniously; he subsequently woke with a start, falling from his seat. “Shite,” he cursed. “Have you always been such a bloody demon?” he asked. 

“Not yet, but that’s the hope,” he answered, feeling more and more like his old self. “Excellent job, by the way.”

“As if I’d do anything else,” Basil sneered. 

“It’s done, then?”

“Almost,” Basil replied, then stood and walked across to the counter, where he picked up a small bowl with uncolored powdered pigment. “It has yet to be signed, but there’s one thing I still need to activate the spell.”

“Which is?”

As he moved past Dorian again, Basil seemed to pull a blade from thin air—and promptly used it to slice into Dorian’s left cheek. 

“What the hell?” he hissed, his hand rushing to his face as blood spilled over his fingers. 

“It’s the final part of any of my spells,” Basil explained coolly, holding the bowl under Dorian’s chin and catching drops of blood in it. He was avoiding eye contact, but seemed to take some amount of pleasure from Dorian’s discomfort. He couldn’t blame him, honestly. 

Basil set the bowl down on his chair and, with the pocketknife, performed a similar ritual on his own hand (which curiously had no scar, despite the number of times he’d likely done this). 

Once both bloods were in the bowl, he found a small spoon to mix up the paint. When it had reached a satisfactory consistency, he picked up a fine-tipped brush and painted his name on the corner. 

He dotted the “i” on his first name, and the whole canvas briefly glowed red, then returned to normal. “Is that it, then?”

“Yea; it’s done,” Basil confirmed, still refusing to meet Dorian’s gaze. “And then some. You have a wicked soul, sir, and that leaves its mark on a person; the portrait will carry all of that.”

“Oh?” Well, that was a nice touch. Gods above only knew what kind of sins he could get away with, then. “Well, let’s test that out.”

With a flick of his wrist, Basil’s knife appeared in his hand—and then disappeared into Basil’s chest, right above his heart.

Basil gasped and finally looked up at him. There was a tear on the cusp of falling and a look of hurt and betrayal that he wasn’t able to put to words—probably because of the blade in his lungs.

Blood slowly seeped out onto Dorian’s hand—not for the first time, and likely (hopefully) not for the last. But to hasten the whole process, he yanked the knife out and watched as Basil collapsed and quickly expired, the red pool on his white shirt hardly having a chance to grow.

“What the devil…?” Dorian turned at the voice; he hadn’t heard the door open, but Oscar was standing in it, a look of shock on his face. “I saw her outside, and then I…you?”

“Aye, me,” Dorian answered. He tossed Basil’s knife aside, grabbed a paint-covered rag from the easel to wipe the blood off his hand and face, and gave Oscar a vague rundown of what had gone down here in the last several hours.

“You’re a monster,” Oscar finally stammered.

Dorian picked up the painting from the easel and tucked it under his arm, then fished the magic bean from his pocket. “That’s kind of the point,” he said. “Wish me luck.”

He thought of home, then tossed the bean towards the vacant end of the studio. The portal appeared almost immediately. “Farewell,” he shouted over his shoulder, then jumped through, finding himself back in the Enchanted Forest. 

The magic in the very soil of the place sang to him immediately; he took in a deep breath and let it tingle through his veins. Yes, he was home—at least, until he was finally able to reclaim the one of his youth (the one he was entitled to). 

That entire adventure in London certainly wasn’t what he thought it would be, nor had he done what he had hoped to accomplish there. But if this portrait truly did what Basil said it would, it was the extended lease on life he needed.

He grabbed the canvas out from under his arm to take another look at it. Indeed, the wry smirk that Basil had first painted had fallen a bit; the Dorian in the image was scowling a bit—a touch of cruelty in the mouth—with frown lines at his eyes and mouth and a jagged scar across his cheek. 

Just to check, he summoned a looking glass to his hand; there was no change in his reflection whatsoever, aside from the cut. Excellent. What did it matter what happened to the coloured image on the canvas, then? He would be safe. That was everything.

He would need to find someplace to keep this safe—it wasn’t practical to tote around a mid-sized painting everywhere—but surely there was a gallery or a museum in some town he could stick it in and not have to worry about its safety.

And so he set off on foot for the next closest city (he did prefer to walk sometimes), painting in tow and a spring in his step.

At least—until he heard it. He thought it was imagined at first, but no; it was quiet—almost an echo—but he was hearing the definitive sound of a heart beating that wasn’t his own.

He spun around, looking through the trees to see if someone was following him, but it was closer than that. He paused to listen closer, and then he realized: it was coming from the painting.

It beat at the same tempo as his, but just a hair behind. He placed his palm on the back of the canvas, and he could almost feel the steady thump-thump coming off of it; it felt like something from deep within, rather than the relatively thin fabric of the painting.

He sighed and closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Sybil,” he whispered; now that the adrenaline had run off, he could let the regret and heartbreak wash over him. 

But it also solidified his resolve: he had to see this through now. He’d given up the only other thing that had ever meant anything to him.

(All too quickly, though, the guilt wrought by that quietly beating heart forced him to find a place to hide the portrait, sooner and much less ostentatiously than he’d wanted. He’d found his way to an ageless realm—one supposedly of “untold stories”—and made the acquaintance of a moderately wealthy woman with an art collection. She promised to take care of it; he warned that he’d know if she didn’t.

The years continued on, and nothing changed in his reflection, regardless of how many realms he crossed and sins he committed.

However, he did find himself avoiding dark-haired women at the brothels he began to frequent again. Anytime his efforts took him to the Land without Magic, he made sure to never go near London. And he stayed the hell away from actresses.)

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks for reading! tagging some peeps (let me know if you do/don’t want a tag!) @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @wistfulcynic @pirateherokillian @colinoeyebrows​ @wingedlioness​ @word-bug @thisonesatellite @killianmesmalls @thejollyroger-writer @ineffablecolors @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes​ @donteattheappleshook @jrob64 @the-darkdragonfly @stahlop @klynn-stormz​ @resident-of-storybrooke @bluewildcatfanatic

[beikonsims]

Benedick was very confused about Desdemona's sudden change in attitude, so he asked his sister if she knows anything about it. Beatrice was a little amused while explaining to Benny the confrontation they had previous night.

Benedick: So wait, she's now completely okay with us? Just like that? Cause she saw you with your boyfriend?

Beatrice: I don't know, Benny. Who cares? She finally moved on and we can all live in peace here.

Hal also confronted his sister about her sudden niceness. She reassured him everything is fine and even offered to help him with any assignments and studying if he needs. Reluctantly, he accepted the offer and for the first time in their university time they worked together on Hal's homework.

[vacantgodling]

personally bothers me when ppl are like uwu Iago is gay for othello and completely ignore his racism let alone the racism throughout the play

lmao thank u for stopping by to talk old books with me :3c

but tbh thank god i’ve never seen this take in the wild because i just 👁️👁️ did we read the same play? are you okay??

iago’s like not even subtly racist. like the whole play is very racist in general when you start deconstructing it and thinking about it with a critical lens.

(such as: black/dark skinned men are going to come around and seduce your pure white daughters with either “magic” or their physicality, abuse them, black men are inherently violent and angry and good for their physical prowess, the only reason a white woman would love a black man is because she pities him… like i can go on)

however, aside from desdemona’s father, iago is the Most and honestly only maliciously racist character, and it’s not even just towards othello lmao (looking at his speech about how a black woman who’s smart would only be of value if she married a white man 😒) like, i understand the ideology behind wanting to read homoerotic jealousy into his actions because why is he so fixated and jealous of this (1) man who has “everything he wants” and tbh perhaps it could work if the play itself wasn’t saying, in part, that othello cannot be trusted with the things he was “freely given” stolen because he’s black/dark skinned/from the Moors, however ya wanna put it.

like it’s easier to read homoeroticism into fucking julius caesar (the play, and i suppose the man) than this play. in hamlet, CLEARLY, than this one. and then it creates a whole host of other issues with the play IF iago is gay because then *insert a slew of homophobic stereotypes here*

however, what gets me is the play already does give reasoning behind iago’s actions. like as i was reading wiki and analyses of it after i finished my first pass of it, there seems to be a lot of “discourse” around iago’s motivations and how they’re not clear… but they are? at least to me? like, he’s egotistical, and big for his britches. he’s petty and jealous and feels that he deserves things simply because he wants them. he wants the lieutenant position because he feels he’s owed it for being done the disservice of having to serve a Moor in the first place and for being a tenured soldier for so long; and whether or not cassio is competent are neither here nor there, the point is if you get passed up for a promotion at work: work harder, accept it, or just fucking quit. but iago decided to make it everyone else’s problem. it really didn’t have much to do with desdemona herself (though i could argue that he was perhaps jealous that othello had a pretty wife who actually loved him; because even though i mentioned the racist sentiments about white women and black men earlier i don’t think desdemona is a racist character in the slightest: she fell in love with othello for who he is and she is faithfully in love with him to the end. that doesn’t change the outside perspective of those who see their interracial relationship, which is very translatable into real life in how interracial relationships are viewed but that’s a whole different conversation), nor do i think did it have to do with this weird homoerotic tension people want to force into the reading.

whenever iago says that he ‘loves’ othello, people should understand that in this time period the word “love” was (1) more freely used to describe a wide variety of positive emotions (2) in this context probably meant something more akin to “loyal” that he wouldn’t betray othello or that he values him as a subordinate should (which is clearly sarcasm) and (3) be read with heavy damn sarcasm especially when iago is not talking directly to othello. he doesn’t care about othello in the slightest; and i would argue that even if iago was made lieutenant from jump he would be scheming about how to become general. we would still have a play about how iago hates and wants to “dethrone” othello. like he’s just fucking selfish in how he treats everyone throughout the play lmao. he doesn’t even describe othello in a “i hate that i yearn for you” type of way like there is Nothing that can construct this narrative to me in the text.

so like long story short (i didn’t mean to rant but yknow ya got me going) i think a homoerotic reading of iago is just kind of out there at best and just irresponsible at worst. there’s plenty of other characters you can read as gay in shakespeare’s works, even fucking desdemona and emilia in this play itself have a better gay reading than iago and othello lmao.

obviously shippers gonna ship and like do you but i just don’t see it.