#adsom cold blooded

[ravencromwell]

Ask game: 1, 4, and 20 for Holland

Will do the Vor ones tomorrow!!!!! But for now:

* Rolls up sleeves*

1. First Impression: there's a funny and a serious answer to this.

Y'know how I'm always saying I'm terrible at predicting things? Before I picked ADSOM up, I went looking for ADSOM queer characters or something of the like. And discovered Rhy Maresh, about whom I only knew: his being gay plays a small part in the first book and a much larger one in the next two. So, I'm skimming along and this dude comes into Rhy's room and is all: "I have been to your father for business. I come to you for pleasure."

And my little May December loving heart—which also adores enemies to lovers? Fair somersaulted with joy as I read all about how this "Holland" worked for a rival kingdom. I was _amped up for this slow-burn where they had a long-term thing going on Holland's diplomatic missions that was secret from everyone even Rhy's brother, though I suspected maybe Kell guessed because he sure thought about this Holland a lot, which was only natural if you kinda thought he was gonna be your future brother-inn-law, right?

I can barely type this for laughing at how badly! I got the character dynamics wrong but like: Rhy was so _down! for flirting with him and the guard had said he was dangerous, with very cold, hollow eyes and I couldn't understand how Rhy could possibly be so casual about Holland being in his room if he didn't know something we were missing. (Only later did I learn that Rhy, dearest beloved, if confronted with a suddenly talking tree or wall: would aggressively flirt and charm the leaves/stone off it, only asking how it came to have the remarkable ability of speech after he discovered if it was in fact hot to kiss a tree or wall.)

The serious answer: from the moment I read the lines: "The Antari's eyes slid over the scene—the blood, the ink, the tortured commoner— expression lodged between distant surprise and disinterest. Holland liked to play at being hollow, but Athos knew it was a ruse. He might have feigned numbness, but he was hardly immune to sensation." followed swiftly by "What should I do with him?" even after Athos's "we're not too late" makes clear he expected Holland to follow him instead of help Beloc, I was just like _mine please join the cadre of my best beloveds and let me slay all your enemies (or set it up so that you can be the one to slay Athos do not fucking get me started on Holland being denied his vengeance we will be here all year).

Look, I know there are a dozen different ways to read that scene. I know you can think Holland was simply imagining himself there, or so deeply traumatized Athos was wrong and he didn't give a fuck. But those lines? Combined with Athos' latter staring for tells and seeing "Anger, pain, defiance" at the corner of Holland's mouth and the crease of his eye? Viscerally read as the only sort of solidarity Holland could show to this kid who was about to be a fellow abuse survivor. It didn't _work, but I will die on the fucking hill his asking "What do I do with him?" was a bid to get Beloc out of the frame for the night, because that sort of thing worked often when Athos was distracted.

And so, Holland showing solidarity with Maktahns, even when he didn't actually have the agency to do shit, became an absolute bedrock part of my characterization.

[The two stellar fannish examples of Holland's love for Maktahns in all their bloody glory are Snake Charmer, where he protects Nasi, and Green and Pleasant Lands, where Holland absolutely loses his shit in a contained fashion over Kell criticizing a (quite bleak) ritual. Just fucking peak characterization]

4. how many people do I ship them with? When reading, I'm down for absolutely _anything or _anyone with good Holland characterization. For what I'm likely to write: four. Vor and Tal, which you know. But I'm also deeply. deeply fond of a Holland Ojka arc where she follows him to Red and has to learn how to separate the man and the king, as well as the king and Osaron and properly falls for the man, rather than the king. And I have a deep affection for the Holland Rhy thing you gave me the excuse to write (it's coming at end of semester!!!): a Rhy who deeply misses Alucard and just getting to be a _person rather than a prince. Not even necessarily a fully rounded person who has in-depth conversations with his bed-mate (I mean. he misses that, too but he's not getting it with Holland and that's fine). Just someone from whom all the other party wants is thorough debauchery rather than a tumble and maybe a court appointment for their niece and maybe their friend's brother etc. "You draw them like flies," Holland says once, and Rhy doesn't understand why his laugh is bitter and wistful and it's probably cruel to think of people like insects, because he likes people most of the time he truly does. But also yes, he's so tired of only being the thing from which people take and take and take. And a Holland who wants an antidote to the Danes they probably won't kill who isn't Kell because his desperation to _know Holland is so sharp and Holland isn't here for soul-bearing hour.

20. Weird headcanon: Not weird so much as the one I'm thinking about most today:

It was Alox who ensured Holland could read. Alox has heard rumors that in corners of the city, books can be found. And these Antari, who his brother is slowly becoming one of as his eye turns were once the greatest magicians in the land. People like that like to hear themselves talk, so they probably like to read each other's blather too. Which means his brother has to read, even if Alox never had any use beyond learning the runes for binding so he wasn't cheated out of an inking when he could afford to capture magic.

The year before he decides Holland has to die, he fetches and carries for an old, ill man in a slightly richer district—only for his brother would he carry a dying man's shit down three flights of stairs—in exchange for paper with all the runes on it and some lessons on their sounds. Does his best to teach Holl second-hand, even though what he really wants is a drink—maybe Kosh, maybe blood for a hit of magic he'll decide when he meets his friends later—. Bastard actually leaves Alox two whole intact books when he dies. After that, well Holl never could turn down a challenge. He tosses 'em over and lets him start sounding it all out.

[donotblowthisforus]

I’m in the middle of a first book of adsom and does anyone else have the feeling that usually organized, cold blooded, serious Holland does weirdest shit at 3 am.?

[hilokaul]

adsom appreciation week: favorite scene | kell and lila reunion

They turned, caught up in another dance, and then he had her up against the frost-laced wall. Her breath hitched, and her nails dug into his skull. She sank her teeth into his bottom lip, drawing blood, and gave a wicked laugh, and still he kissed her. Not out of desperation or hope or for luck, but simply because he wanted to. Saints, he wanted to. He kissed her until the cold night fell away and his whole body sang with heat. He kissed her until the fire burned up the panic and the anger and the weight in his chest, until he could breathe again, and until they were both breathless.

And when they broke free, he could feel her smile on his lips.

“I’m glad you came back,” he whispered.

“Me, too,” she said.

[attentionhoard]

haha, how you doing? so this might be weird, but there is this song - "I'll be good" by James Young - that reminds me a great deal about ADSOM. It has got a bit of Kell, a bit of Rhy, quite a bit of Holland in it. Maybe I'm the only one who thinks so, but ahh, every time I hear it, I want to re-read the series.

I’ll Be Good - James Young

this is an incredible song? definitely strikes me as a Holland song. I love the lyric

“I've been cold, I've been merciless / But the blood on my hands scares me to death / Maybe I'm waking up today”

thank you for sharing!

[beebrainedstudios]

Cold-Blooded (Pt.1)

In which Athos attempts to make a deal.

(Part 2 is up!: https://beebrainedstudios.tumblr.com/post/635244515405496320/cold-blooded-pt2 and Part 3 is here: https://beebrainedstudios.tumblr.com/post/637332724313669632/cold-blooded-pt3)

Well, here’s the promised first fic of the Pets AU- specifically the one centered around two certain creepy crawlies, Holland, and Athos Dane. Disclaimers: this is NOT meant to be taken seriously in the slightest, so do not take anything that happens here as an example of good pet ownership (nobody’s being mean to the animals, but just in case); neither man really knows what they’re doing. Also, this turned out much longer than I anticipated, so this is coming out in different parts that will all be tagged #adsom cold blooded. The first chapter may seem a pinch darker than someone might be expecting- don’t worry, there will be cute/funny animal stuff once we get to it. Final note: This is both set three years into the Danes’ reign and meant to be somewhat lighthearted (at least later), so expect everyone to be a little different than their canon selves. Enjoy!

Warning for brief mentions of blood, snakes and spiders (Severe arachnophobes and ophiophobes, this is not the fic for you!), and general Dane twin stuff (nothing more than in canon).

Hooollaaand.....

Come. Now. 

Holland's head snapped up from the table, the glare he'd leveled on the glass in Astrid's hand broken as the ghostly whisper slipped unhindered through his skull. Her eyebrows rose as he flinched and his body jerked away, leaving his arm still stretched over her glass. His concentration was crumbling rapidly, Athos' voice echoing louder and louder inside his mind, drowning his thoughts with come come come COME. Holland gasped as the sound rose, fumbling with his free hand for something to stop the blood pouring from his wrist. 

They weren't supposed to interrupt each other, they knew this and yet it still happened all the fragedjisk time-

Before he could stop it, his hand dropped like a stone, flinging blood in a scarlet arc across the table. His body was burning now, pressure building in his joints as his self was suddenly seized again by the thick strings of magic. One foot stepped stiffly back, trying to drag him to the door, but the other half of his body was still listening to Astrid and her command to stay still and hurry up from two minutes ago, leaving him strung in between two bonds like a man on the rack.

The drops of blood meant for the glass had gone all over the room- she'd had him cut deep that day- and with a quick glance at Astrid he grit his teeth and clamped his other hand over the wound, praying the bleeding would stop before he reached his other master- he didn't know how much more blood he had to lose. He was fumbling for the facade now, trying to slip back into the realm of apathy, but he knew it was obvious from his position that it hurt and that if the twins didn't stop the magic would make the choice for them.

Let go let go let go Astrid, I can't feel my feet anymore-

Astrid hadn't moved, her eyes still set on the half-full goblet in her hands. She silently rose from her chair, bringing it to her lips as she slipped beside Holland, quietly pulling his hand away from the table. He took the touch as permission, turning to leave just as she slipped her hand to his cheek, slowly tilting his gaze back to her own. Her eyes were so pale that they were almost white, artificially brightened by the blackened veins surrounding them. Between them and the white room and the icy hand on his cheek, Holland felt like he'd been thrown into the Sijlt, the burning of the bond merely his body's last effort to keep warm. 

His knee twisted beneath him then, a sudden jerk that released as quickly as it had come, a final warning of sorts. Holland refocused his gaze on Astrid's, resolutely setting his jaw even as he mentally prayed for her to ease up. His knee was throbbing, and if the Danes didn't hurry something would dislocate.

He needed to go, he needed to obey, he needed to come NOW.

Holland's body flared with heat again, and for just a moment his eyes darted away, staring off past Astrid's shoulder as his vision went white. When his eyes cleared and focused back on the Dane, she was smiling, apparently satisfied by his submission.

"Say hi to my brother for me." She sighed, lifting her hand from his face as Holland lunged away, his body moving without his will like a drunken puppet to the door. He glanced back once as he slipped through it, but her attention had already left him to settle on her cup and the blood within it. 

Holland hardly felt the burn of his wrists over everything else; he had been lit like a fuse that had brushed the bomb, a step from disaster, pushed to the edge of the magic's seal. Every step he took eased the heat a little, slowly lowering the pain in his bones from blinding to his usual dull ache. He'd still waited too long to walk himself, and his limbs chose his pace for him- he was practically sprinting through the halls, forced to ignore the blood he was dripping everywhere by the pounding command echoing through his head, each word punctuated by the thud of his pulse.

COME. 

NOW. 

COME. 

NOW. 

COME. 

NOW.

Holland wished he could slow down, that he could just drag things out a little longer. It was one thing to be summoned by Athos. It was entirely another to be summoned to his rooms, and Holland still had no idea what Athos wanted; he was rarely called to his chambers. It seemed as much as the king enjoyed leading Holland around like a tame pet, he valued his own space the same way any other creature did, even if he rarely let Holland maintain his own. 

Regardless of his thoughts on the matter, Holland didn't have the choice to enter, and as soon as he saw the thick double doors- heavy wooden things, with wrought iron hinges and enough splinters in their face that they could serve as an armory- he tucked his shoulder in and barreled through them, the magic bidding his body to ignore the instant flood of hurt from his side. He stumbled, nearly tripping over his own feet; his boots struggled for purchase against the floor, which was covered with thick woven rugs in every hue White London could manage, each of them as faded as the dull marble walls.

Behind him, the doors thudded shut on their own, the complex runes etched into their backs willing them closed to keep out the drafts that constantly plagued the palace. Instantly, the temperature rose, heated by even more runes that had been scratched into the floor along the walls. Holland still remembered when Athos had carved them; Holland had been holding up the rugs, watching the way Athos' knife had slid into the floor and marveling at how much each mark reminded him of his own, still new and aching over his heart. The days were different then, the bond heavier on his chest and Vortalis' death still new in his mind. He was better at things now, even if nothing had changed. 

Holland looked around the entry room for for Athos, tugging on the collar of his cloak to let out some of the heat. For a moment he wondered if he should remove it- then he checked himself. What a reckless idea; the less exposed he was around Athos, the better, even if the heat made his head spin. He'd much rather sweat than bleed. 

Athos' entry room was largely empty, just a small space lit by the open door across from him and filled with whatever junk Athos couldn't fit in his main room. Holland idly toed an open book, savoring the fading pain and the technical completion of his task (Athos had only bid him come to the rooms, not necessarily to him). He could hear Athos through the walls, murmuring something rapidly to himself. 

What sick thing are you doing today, Athos?

"Holland! Come here!"

Holland sighed and slipped through the door, narrowing his eyes as his surroundings brightened. Both the heat and the light were much stronger here, fueled by the lanterns that lay scattered around the room. The flames at their cores cast flickering shadows along the white marble bricks, illuminating half a dozen bookshelves and tables that were covered with almost everything under the sun. Trinkets, paints, canvases, and books upon books upon books- no surface was spared from Athos' packrat tendencies. Even the furniture itself was marred, littered with carved notes and thumbnails that didn't fit inside Athos' sketchbooks. Everything Athos' came up with, be it scientific theory, artwork, or music for his piano, was marked down somewhere, and the cluttered mishmash of symbols and mess made Holland's eyes cross.

He hopped over an unfinished painting, the brushes Athos was using for it still littered on the ground around it, their ends stained from constant use. How Athos had the time for any of this was beyond Holland; he still managed to keep up with Astrid and his kingly duties. 

And his "time" with me. That too.

Holland could still feel the scars from their last session.

He found the Dane through another door, this one leading to a similarly cluttered room; the only difference being the large bed- coated in white like the rest of the palace- tucked messily into the corner. Despite its size, it had always been more of an afterthought for Athos. On the rare occasions Holland was called to enter the bedroom, he'd found Athos either crouched over his books or tucked into the window seat; the king seemed more fond of sleeping there than anywhere else. Holland had asked why once in a rare moment of curiosity, and Athos had merely said that it reminded him of home. He'd then smiled one of his rare "I'm not murderous, just pleased" smiles; he had a smile for every occasion and almost all of them were wicked, but he liked it when Holland asked questions. Something about the "innate curiosity of men," whatever that meant. 

Holland couldn't help but stare at the bed for a moment, its covers still perfectly made. He had only found Athos asleep in it once, when he'd been summoned in the middle of the night by a command that was screamed rather than sung. He'd darted through the doors knife in hand to find Athos wide-awake and soaked in sweat, his skin flushed a deep purple in the same way others' blushed red. He'd been panting heavily, teeth stark-white against his blackened throat, and when Holland had asked what was wrong, he'd only lunged for his chest, pulling Holland close in the nearest thing the Antari had been given to a hug in four years. His touch had been as cold as death. 

Holland could still hear him sobbing into his chest that he'd seen his sister dead and he'd been left alive, and how wretched it was to be left even in dreams without her. 

It had been a long night. 

"Holland?"

Holland's head snapped to the side, Athos' voice pulling him from the unpleasant memory. The king was standing next to one of his shelves, facing it with both of his hands cradling something gently in front of him. Good, both of his hands were occupied, and it wasn't by a knife. Holland was glad he'd left his with Astrid; if Athos was in a bloody mood there'd be time to distract him before they could find another. Encouraged, he stepped towards him, but he froze again at the cautious tone in the king's voice.

Uh oh.

"Off playing with the fairies again?" Athos asked, his eyes still locked on whatever he was holding. His voice was playful, but quiet- an unusual event on its own, and one that gave Holland pause. 

"No, my lord, merely distracted. If you might tell me what you n-" Athos' eyes snapped around to face him, and Holland flinched and shut his mouth as the full force of Athos' glistening blue gaze landed on him. He jerked to attention, hands drifting automatically behind him to hide his bleeding wrist. Crows, why hadn't he thought to stanch the flow- Athos could probably smell it at this point. He could feel blood dripping down his hands like a confession, finally leaking down his fingers to drop still-warm onto the floor. 

Framisjk.

Athos' eyes roved up and down, taking in Holland's blood, bent knee, and slightly-frazzled appearance. Holland reached once again for the facade and managed to pull himself somewhat together, his feet clicking back together and his chin rising, but when his gaze rose again he was surprised to find that Athos' seemed... uninterested, and even more unusual, wary. The king was many things, but he was not afraid of Holland; yet here he was, idly gnawing on his bottom lip, his eyes having drifted away from his pawn to land on nothing before finally turning back towards the object in his hands. Something was bothering him, perhaps an idea that he couldn't figure out. He was distracted, cautious and scheming something, and all of those things put Holland on edge.

Holland tried again.

"My lord, what do you w-"

"None of that today." Athos cut him off, turning back to glance at Holland. He was still acting oddly, but his voice had smoothed out; he seemed to be relaxing a bit, even as Holland grew more worried. "Other days, yes, but not this one. I simply need you for something is all."

Something's up here. Something's wrong.

"And what exactly do you want, Athos?" Holland snapped, his voice echoing sharply around the room. 

Both men paused.

Holland hadn't meant for it to come out so sharp, but his nerves had gotten the better of him. Athos froze in surprise at his tone, head cocking to the side as if to hear him better a second time, a subtle warning to reconsider, though it was too late to take it back now. Holland swallowed but knew not to step back, instead straightening again to attention and hoping his king wasn't feeling too vengeful. 

Astrid had once asked her brother if Holland would bite; they'd learned that while Holland never truly wielded his teeth, he did have a tendency to snap back at them. In kind, he'd learned that neither Dane seemed too fond of it unless they got to "fight back" too.

Athos was silent for a moment, as if considering Holland's outburst. He let Holland fret for a moment, and then he turned, fully this time, allowing Holland to see what he had been cradling so gently during their entire conversation.

Holland blanched at the sight of fuzzy skin, glistening scales, and bright beady eyes.

Athos smiled.

"Holland, how would you like to make a deal?"

It was worse than a knife. So, so much worse than a knife.

[beebrainedstudios]

Cold-Blooded (Pt. 3)

In which Holland makes both a friend and an enemy.

Warning again for snakes and spiders (Severe arachnophobes and ophiophobes, this is not the fic for you!). The first two parts can be found under the tag #adsom cold blooded. Enjoy!

Twenty minutes later, Holland was sitting with a fuzzy spider in his hands and a book of Maktahn myths at his side, wondering why he didn’t hate it as much as he’d thought he would.

Just as she had been with Athos, Athena was remarkably calm, acting more like a tame cat than a vicious apex predator. After their agreement and Holland’s decision, Athos had simply let her crawl across his hands onto Holland’s with little fanfare and a stern warning not to drop her; now he was as tame as his spider, sitting calmly beside Holland on the bed while he rattled off every fact about Northern Pinktoe Tarantulas he could think of, including corrections on some of Holland’s earlier statements.

“Like I said earlier, she’s venomous, not poisonous,” The king said, yawning as he did. “But her venom’s fairly weak when it comes to mammals, so when she’s in danger, she’ll actually flick all of her hairs off and kick them onto her assailant, like tiny darts.” The fur on the spider’s abdomen glistened in a new light then, and he quietly stopped trying to pet the spider with his thumbs. “It’s supposed to be very irritating, like touching a nettle I suppose, but she’s never done it to me so I can’t comment. Isn’t that strange? And all that fuzz also allows her to more easily sense her surroundings, since her eyesight is rather poor-"

"Even with eight eyes?” Holland cut him off, squinting as he tried to count them. He looked closer at the spider’s front end and struggled to make most of them out through all of the fur, especially since most of the spider, eyes included, was the same dark color. Only her vibrant toes stood out against her black skin, and she had spread them like a web across his palm, leaving them all in easy view.

Holland wasn’t putting her any closer to his face to get a better look, especially after the “itchy hair” fact, but he had to admit the little creature was much more interesting and less disturbing than he had originally thought. Holding Athena in his hands was remarkably similar to holding a very mossy rock; she had scuttled across his fingers as soon as she’d felt them, quickly finding the place between his cupped hands and settling there, refusing to move much more beyond the occasional shuffling of her tiny feet. He had thought she would at least be a little bothered by her new handler, but she seemed as relaxed as she had been when Athos had held her. Granted, Holland hadn’t really done anything either, content to just let her explore as long as she stayed on his hands, but it was still unexpected.

There had been no denying his initial discomfort with his half of the deal; as soon as he had felt the first leg brush against his skin, Holland’s stomach had turned and he’d flinched away on reflex. Athos had simply pushed his hands further over the bed before letting Athena continue scuttling onto them. The whole time, Holland had been steeling himself, planning his reaction to a bite so he wouldn’t drop the spider in shock. Apparently, he’d had nothing to worry about; he’d readied himself for war, but all he was getting was a slightly weird cuddle session. It was kind of nice to be surprised like that.

Holland would take it to his grave, but there was some tiny part of him that was actually enjoying this and the way the tarantula seemed so calm and unbothered. At least she couldn’t mock him for his defenselessness against the Danes, or glare at him as if it was his fault her owner had mauled another citizen. No, she couldn’t care and probably wouldn’t besides, and there was something wonderfully refreshing about that. You and I do have one thing in common, I guess. He thought, cocking his head as he looked down at the animal in his hands. We’ve both learned the delicate art of not caring. You just seem a lot better at it than me.

The spider didn’t respond, and he let a smile flicker onto his face like a rare glimpse of the Maktahn sun.

Athos sat back and watched the pair, satisfaction radiating off of him like light. He was pleased, immensely so, and for once it had more to do with Holland’s pleasure than it did with his pain. It was likely more out of relief than straight joy, as relief itself was a rare treat in Makt; most problems were never solved, only reduced, and oftentimes small issues like this were cast to the side in favor of more important events. Athos must have been considering this problem for a while, especially if it had kept him close to the palace for so long. Holland’s agreement had likely been a huge boost to his mood, and while that accomplished the exact opposite of his desires as far as his effect on the Danes’ lives, he had to admit there seemed to be certain perks to this kind of problem solving, at least where the pets were concerned. There was no point putting them in the middle of things.

When the king and his thrall left the room, they would be enemies again. They were still enemies now. Holland knew that; he wasn’t stupid and neither was his body, Athos’ close proximity still standing his hair on end even with his good mood. But he wanted to at least enjoy the reprieve while it lasted.

“You think you’re ready to try with Ladon now?”

Holland considered the arachnid in his hands for another moment, then nodded, slowly shifting both hands back to Athos so he could retrieve Athena. The spider needed little prompting to scurry back up the king’s palms, and only minutes later he had her safely returned to her enclosure, where Holland caught a final glimpse of orange fuzz before she had darted into a hole. Enjoy your rest, little creature, he thought in her direction; a foolish notion, but one Holland still intended to complete. It was the pets’ own dependence that had led both to his new appreciation for them and his new book. He wasn’t ungrateful enough to ignore such a gift.

When he turned back to Athos, the king had Ladon swirled about his fingers and a mild grin on his face.

“I’ll go ahead and warn you now that he’s a little more… active than Athena. He might try to play a few tricks on you.”

Holland hesitated; on one hand, he had no idea what that meant, but on the other, he had come too far to back down now. He had earned the book but no time to read it, and if he broke his half of the deal Athos would give him hell every time he tried to sneak in a minute of literature. He’d overreacted to Ladon once, but he knew better now; he was only a little snake, right?

“What’s the worst he can do, bite me?” Holland asked, holding out his hands. Athos shrugged as he passed him over, raising a brow at the way Holland shivered at the touch of cool scales and colder skin, but as before he was pleasantly surprised by the lack of discomfort the snake’s touch itself brought him. Ladon slid in a lazy loop across his palms and turned his pointy nose towards him, considering his new handler.

“I mean, technically yes, but he’s a bit theatrical.” Athos huffed as if remembering an example. “To start, he might try to bluff his way out of your hands.” Holland’s first thought was that Ladon and Athos most likely got along well then, considering the king’s own flair for drama, but any considerations of Athos’ warnings went out the window when the snake in his fingers stopped staring at him and suddenly came alive with a bone-rattling hiss.

“He might wha- Hey!” Holland looked back down to find the formerly-calm Ladon spasming in his hands, thrashing back and forth like he had been shocked by a blast of Astrid’s lightning. Ladon’s tongue hung gruesomely out of his mouth, and his eyes were wide and dilated as if he’d suffered a concussion. His long spine arched and then curled in on itself until Holland was looking not at a snake but at the beginnings of a knot. He gasped and started trying to pull the snake free of himself, turning to Athos with horror in his eyes.

“What is he doing!? Is he seizing!? What the-”

Athos, for all his apparent care for his pets, did not seem alarmed in the slightest. He did nothing but point an accusatory finger at Ladon, who was still writhing in Holland’s hands, scowling. “Stop doing that.” He grumbled. “You’re spooking my Antari."

Holland was too unnerved at the moment to be offended; had he hurt the snake just by touching him? Was he sick? Was this some kind of organized fault for Athos to blame on him later? It had happened before, on days when the king felt particularly vindictive. Holland had never been hard to rile, and sometimes Athos just wanted excuses for his violence. A well-placed vase or a piece of Astrid’s china was all it took; Athos would have been playing a long game to get him to this point, but he wouldn’t put it past him.

"Athos, do something!"

Athos only shrugged and leaned back, casually flicking his wrist in the snake’s direction. "Nothing to be done about it, he’s just playing dead."

"Dead things don’t thrash like they’ve been impaled, Athos!”

“I never said he was good at it.”

Holland groaned in exasperation, his earlier good mood ruined by Ladon’s sudden tantrum. Athena had been pleasant, but it seemed Ladon wasn’t going to trust him just yet and Holland wasn’t going to force it. “Look, I’ve held him, alright? Can we just try again later when he’s not doing this!?” He nodded his head at Ladon’s hissy fit, which showed no signs of slowing down. “I did as you asked."

Holland mentally smacked himself for that last remark. Obedience on Holland’s part meant nothing- Athos was just as likely to back out on his own half of the deal for no other reason than simple spite. As good as it had felt to make the deal earlier, there was no tangible power behind Holland to ensure that it was actually carried out, and Holland had known that the moment Athos had made the offer.

For a moment, Athos did nothing, and Holland resigned himself to the notion that this had all been some game for Athos’ entertainment. With his luck he probably wasn’t going to get to read the book anyway, but it had felt good to try; either way he didn’t want to end up bitten for his trouble since he was certain that Ladon would try his fangs if his little show didn’t get him put down. Holland understood that at least- he would do the same in his position.

“Hand him over.”

The mattress shifted and Holland’s gaze rose to find Athos standing quietly by the bed, watching them both with hands outstretched to receive his pet. He seemed much less anxious than before- his eyes were devoid of black and his mouth was twisted back into its familiar ghosted smile. Something about the sight soothed something in Holland- perhaps the fear that he’d be punished for this- and his irritation dissipated. He relaxed, not entirely, but some. At least he knew he wouldn’t be worse off than before he entered Athos’ suite.

The room was still and warm, the atmosphere foreign and entirely out of Holland’s comfort zone yet- like the spider- pleasant. There was a moment of quiet as Holland let Ladon shift along his palms, savoring the calm that had settled everywhere but in his hands, but nice as it was he knew his break from everything was coming to an end. He breathed deep and tried to settle back into his usual apathy, slowly cooling his thoughts until he was once again himself. Athos helped, clearing his throat and drumming his foot in impatience, the rapid tic-thump-tac of his boot against the rugs breaking the peace. The moment over, Holland sighed and did as he was told, trying to slip the writhing reptile from his fingers. It took both men a few seconds to maneuver Ladon back into Athos’ grip, but as soon as he felt cold skin against his scales, Ladon seemed to recognize he was back with his owner and he calmed down, turning back into the hissy oddly-colored rope he’d been before. Holland sat and watched as Athos carried Ladon back over to his enclosure, muttering to him the whole time. Holland didn’t hear what was said, but he managed to catch the words “brat,” “rude,” and “time-out.” He chuckled driely at that, his gaze sliding back to the book at his side. A pity he wouldn’t get the chance to read it…

“Well, that settles it.” Holland’s eyes snapped back to Athos, who had finished putting the snake away and was now straightening his cloak by the door. Holland hadn’t heard him move. His voice was back to its usual snapping tone- all sharp edges and cracks- but there was a new vein of excitement in it, and he was practically bouncing on his heels. It was obvious the thought of getting back on the road had made his day. “I’ll leave next week for the east border- I’ve heard there’s some people there who aren’t willing to follow the rules- then I’ll sweep south till I reach the coast and make my way back. It’ll be fine weather for it, and Astrid can use the time to finish that building plan she’s been working on…”

Holland stood and stretched, twisting his arms above his head and ignoring the way his wrist burned at the movement. He could hear Athos muttering, trying to work out the details of his patrol, and he did the same combing through his duties and shifting them around to make room for Athos’ trip. He’d need to keep busy; he’d be alone with Astrid, and she didn’t tolerate stillness well.

Back to work, Vosijk. Think- you need to set out and fix the equipment for the patrol tonight. It’ll be at least a dozen men I think, maybe more by the time he gets back, and I’ll need to check and make sure we have enough horses for it. Then I’ve got to clean out the Tower and dust the piano…

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Holland shook himself out of his head, looking up from his boots just in time to catch the book that Athos had chucked at his face. The cover snapped shut in his hands, velvety green leather soft under his fingertips. The title on its front labelled it as another anthology of myths, the companion to the book at his side. Confused, he turned back to Athos to find the king waiting by the open door, a smirk on his lips. Holland carefully picked up both books, but didn’t follow him. In response to his hesitation, Athos winked and shrugged.

“Look, in Makt you’re either completely illiterate or smart enough to finish a novel in three hours tops, and I know you’re the latter because I don’t let stupid people keep their head. I’d hate to see you finish before your hard-earned week runs out- you’d sulk, I’d miss it, and Astrid would kill you before I get back. Those things have just been collecting dust on my shelf for years. Fairytales are for the stupidly romantic, like yourself of course, but you might as well get both.”

Athos seemed happy, but impatient, so Holland carefully stepped to the door with both books in tow, wondering if this was where Athos was going to reveal his grand scheme.

“You must be really excited to go roaming again.” Holland’s skepticism was palpable; Athos didn’t care. He smiled brightly at Holland as he led him back into the main room, looking for all the world like a normal person instead of bloodlust made human.

“It also occurred to me that you’ll have to learn how to feed them. We’ll start tomorrow. You aren’t.. scared of mice, are you?”

There it is.

Holland just sighed and went to find Astrid, hopping over clutter and hoping that Ladon and Athena were not half as voracious as their owner.

[beebrainedstudios]

The Pack (White Wolves of London- Victor Dane AU)

(Individual refs + details below the cut!)

Finally, I’m done with this illustration! I have been working on and off on this for a month or two now as I’ve been writing the Victor Dane AU (First chapter found here!); for everyone unaware, it’s a Vicious AU where the series takes place in the ADSOM universe, specifically in and around White London. These four are known as the Pack and are Victor’s closest allies (although two members are missing here- you’ll see them later). I’ve been having a lot of fun with the AU, but I wanted to have at least a rough idea of what everyone looked like, so this is concept art of sorts where I mostly solidified the designs from one of the AU’s arcs. It’s also my first time drawing Mitch and Dominic, and I’m very pleased with how they came out, especially Dominic and his grumpy expression. Anyways, individual pictures are below the cut, alongside a few facts about each character’s role in the AU and some of the details in their designs.

Mitch:

- Mitch Turner is also known as the Raven (and later, the King’s Right Hand). Wickedly smart, surprisingly moral, and very very big, he’s been Victor’s closest ally every since the latter was thrown into prison following a deadly magical experiment. Mitch was worried his unusually bad luck would end up getting the ex-prince killed and tried to look out for him, but just as in canon, Victor proved to be perfectly capable of protecting himself on his own. A tentative friendship grew, and Mitch followed Victor into exile, crime, and eventually politics. No matter where the pair have ended up, Mitch has always been happy to help Victor maintain control of his subordinates by both providing extra muscle and acting as a mediator when things get too heated. He’s usually the one who does most of the actual ruling since Victor is often distracted by external threats to his territory/kingdom; Mitch typically keeps things running while Victor goes to deal with the threats. He also does an excellent job of caring for the rest of the Pack as they steadily join the group, first with Victor’s cousins (the members missing from the picture here), then Sydney, then Dominic.

- Design-wise, this is how I usually imagine Mitch, just in fantasy clothes since this is his ADSOM design. He’s a little duller than usual due to coming from the White World, but he’s still one of the more colorful members of the Pack. He has a lot of scars and a lot of tattoos under all of those clothes, but since the kingdom of Merit is north of White London, its usually too cold for anything less then three warm layers. His design also has a lot of conventions that are shared with the rest of the Pack shown here, such as the gold wolves’ teeth (a sign that they are close allies of the Wolf King), and the pointed triangle-stripe motif you can see on his shoulders and coat; this is known as a “hound’s fangs” pattern and is specific to the kingdom of Merit where Mitch and the rest of the group are from.

- Unlike a lot of the cast of the AU, Mitch has no magic. He’s not a Blackhearted (basically a magic EO) or a mage, but he doesn’t need any magic since he’s plenty strong on his own. Instead, his preferred weapons are his brain, his fists, a set of studded gloves that are essentially brass knuckles, and various other pieces of armor that allow him to put his strength to good use.

Dominic:

- In this AU, Dominic is a very grouchy Antari who spends most of his time before meeting Victor running away from things. His entire life has been nothing but people hunting him down to kill him, enslave him, or drink his blood, and that has left him with a whole lot of emotional issues and lots of chronic pain from all of the injuries he’s received. His history has a lot in common with Holland’s actually, but where Holland had periods of time where he felt safe, Dominic had very little security after his eye went dark. However, after Victor rescues him from a deadly enemy, Dominic is surprised to find one king who wants to establish a mutual partnership instead of ownership (Victor knows better than to pick a fight with a skittish Antari), and he eventually allies himself with him so he can have a few other people watching his back, earning him the title of the King’s Shadow and the Fox. It certainly doesn’t hurt either that the agreement comes with help for his chronic pain. Over time, Dominic warms up to the Pack and becomes one of Victor’s most loyal supporters, helping him spy on enemies, and if need be, dispose of them before they cause any problems. He also looks after Sydney if no one else is around, and between him and Dol she’s one of the safest people in Merit.

- Design-wise, Dominic has a few things in common with Mitch, such as the White-world desaturation, the “hound’s fang” patterns, and the gold teeth decoration. However, where Mitch’s symbolic fangs are on the hood of his coat and his belt buckle, Dominic’s are threaded into his coat at the shoulders. He also has a golden fang ring that he uses to draw blood for spells like Holland does in ADSOM. I’m pretty pleased with how beat-up I managed to make him look; his hair is gray from stress, and he is by far the most scarred member of the Pack due to his history. He also has terrible posture and likes to slouch- when he’s not, he’s taller than Victor and nearly as tall as Mitch.

- Being an Antari, Dominic has the ability to use a lot of magic; though he’s initially fairly weak due to his condition, he recovers after joining the Pack and becomes one of its strongest members. While he’s most comfortable with using travel spells, he’s also a powerful fighter who’s very adept at using magic to alter the battlefield to give him an advantage, such as summoning shadows to blind the opponent or ice to trip them up. He usually wields several long knives, but he’s perfectly happy to petrify or freeze people too if need be- he’s more of a magician than a weapons specialist.

Sydney and Dol:

- Sydney is one of the youngest members of Victor’s court and certainly the youngest member of the Pack, but regardless of her age, she has a lot of influence from having Mitch, Victor, and Dominic all wrapped around her fingers. She was rescued from the same threat that nearly killed Dominic, and after Victor found her she never really left, instead cementing herself as a useful ally and friend to the group. She’s essentially their second chance; if a party member dies, she can give them another shot by pulling the threads of their magic or life back together. However, this means that her gift puts a target on her back, and with little to no elemental magic to defend herself with, she relies on her wits and Dol to protect her. Dol has the same backstory as he does in canon- Sydney revived a dying dog she found and he was happily adopted. The wolfhound follows Sydney everywhere, which has given her the nickname Houndsmaster by most of Merit, although the pair are also called the Ghost and the Hound in some circles.

- Design-wise, Sydney shares traits with both Mitch and Dominic, such as the darker fur found on Mitch’s coat and the brighter red that Dominic wears; I wanted them to look like a group without being entirely identical. She also has a tiny bit of blue eyeshadow and hair pigment- according to ADSOM canon, White Londoners often wear a lot of makeup, and I thought that would probably be a trend in Merit as well since the kingdom is supposed to be a little more flippant and arts-focused. I also thought it’d be a cool nod towards all of the eyeshadow she had on when she met Victor in Vicious. As for the hair pigment, that is a massive hint towards who Victor’s other allies are if you’ve seen my ADSOM character designs before. For now, let’s just say it’s a trait she picked up from one of Victor’s cousins- she has a matching patch on the other side too. As for Dol, he’s a black Meritian wolfhound (basically an Irish wolfhound). I never really saw Dol as a Great Dane, he was always fluffy to me, so I went with this breed instead. His gold fang’s are located on his harness.

- In combat, Sydney is the weakest member of the group, so when danger strikes the entire Pack’s priority, including her’s, is to get her out of harm’s way. Usually Dol helps with this by either pulling her to safety or taking down enemies while she finds an exit. He’s tall enough to reach most people’s faces and will happily bite them if Sydney commands him to. As stated above, Sydney doesn’t have any extra magic outside of her Blackhearted ability (this is true for all Blackhearted, it has to do with how they actually get the new abilities), but she usually carries at least one knife on her. I also think she might end up with a crossbow at some point, but I’m still not entirely set on that yet.

So yeah, here’s a sneak peek into the AU and what’s coming up in it! I’ve been really busy recently with lots of projects, so it’s nice to get this done. I’m hoping to do more pics like this for the rest of the main cast. In the meantime, any questions you guys have I’d be happy to answer! I enjoy talking about my AUs and it helps me figure things out. I’m also working on Chapter 2 of White Wolves of London, which will feature a flashback from Victor’s princehood and our first look at Eli, the Blood Saint. It’ll also feature more stuff about Victor’s cousins too! See you guys then!

[beebrainedstudios]

You Said I Was The Most Exotic Flower:

In which Kell can’t forget someone. This is an exploration of a headcanon I have relating to Kell and some trauma he carries from his experiences in ADSOM. Definitely a little on the heavier side, so mind the tags/warnings. This will have a sequel though, so keep an eye out!

Warning for descriptions of PTSD, panic attacks, anthophobia, emetophobia, vomiting, and brief mentions of slavery and blood!

It’s the strangest of weaknesses, Kell thought, retching into the marble sink. The sharpest of cruelties. As he leaned back against the far wall and wiped his mouth, he thought of his condition, and its cause, all while trying to avoid looking at the gilded vase on the vanity’s countertop. There were many like it all throughout the palace- there always were this time of year- but the tiny washroom was too cramped to offer any escape. He tilted his head back and swallowed down the burn in his throat summoned by his pounding heart, wishing he hadn’t already caught a glimpse of the delicate lilies arranged inside it.

His lungs were full of the sweet summer scent. Kell shut his eyes and tried to breathe over it, but there was no room for air. Frosty blue petals grew in his mind, warping and twisting into two eyes, each sharp as knives and lit with wicked joy. A voice echoed behind them, laughing along with his racing pulse. The smell was like smoke, coiling against the back of his eyes. He couldn’t pick it apart from the scent of his own magic. The voice was hiding in it, sliding down his throat and into his head like water. For a moment, he was drowning.

I smell something sweet.

Kell lunged once again for the sink.

***

The fabric in his hands was soft like crushed velvet, the silver embroidery bright as fine filigree on ceramic, glinting lines on silky smooth. 

Rhy was smiling at him, pleased with the banner and its signature design. Kamerov Loste. A moment ago, his brother’s newest scheme had been buzzing in his head, a call to the chase, a chance to escape. But now his thoughts were turning, spiraling around and over one another like the thorny vines stitched into the banner’s front. He couldn’t pull them back together, pull them back apart, straighten them out. They were a writhing mess of dread. 

The embroidery traced itself into the same winding shapes of his thoughts, carving out monochrome brambles, two leaves, petals. A ring of them, then another, until there were two gleaming roses on the banner, both bound together by their own thorns.

My rose. 

Blood dripping down his chin, smeared along the front of Rhy’s shirt and along his many rings. 

He tried to shake the image away, masking the motion as exasperation, but it only made him think of the ruby drops that had spilled all over the prince’s carpet. Kell blinked, and thought, and then as soon as it’d hit it was over. He looked up and sighed at his brother with a bemused smirk. Inside his mind was screaming, and his hands, still clenched around the pennant, were cold as ice.

“How subtle.”

***

It had been only a little thing, at the ball. It was so much easier to ignore the plants and the vases when there was Rhy to laugh with, royals to avoid, Alucard to admonish. The scent of floral sweetness was hidden behind burning candles and wine. 

And of course, there was Lila. Kell was spinning with her now, a few moments after she’d slipped away from him on the balcony. He’d followed her, slyly, at the edge of her vision, his presence a request to resume. He’d been waiting too long now to follow right at her heels like a dog- but he’d settle for skulking like a fox instead. 

Lila had nabbed herself two drinks before coming back for more. 

Now they were dancing, and the music and everything else was only a murmur in Kell’s ears as Lila pressed against him. They were still at the edge of the dance floor- neither of them craved the attention of the center spot- but Kell could have been anywhere in the world for all it mattered.

Then his toes pinched and he stumbled, Lila’s boot quickly righting itself away from his own.

Lila laughed quietly- Saints, he loved that laugh- and pulled him back to her. “Sorry, flower boy.” She mumbled, her eyes already back to her feet so she could mark the steps.

Kell froze, the murmur of the world slipping away until he was alone with Lila’s hands in his own. They weren’t Lila’s. 

He drew back from her, snatching his hands away and bolting across the ballroom. Somewhere in his mind he knew he was drawing attention, he was moving too fast, he was being rude- but none of it mattered because his hands were freezing and he hadn’t been dancing with Lila at all. Or had he?

His hands were so cold, and it was spreading up his arms like the touch of frozen fingers. 

Kell burst into the hall, a pair of guards following in his wake, but Kell didn’t notice or didn’t care and ran for his room, sliding around the corners and taking stairs two at a time. He couldn’t see, there were tears in his eyes, but he heard the quiet clatter of glass- no, ice- growing behind him, and the guards were yelling now but Kell wouldn’t stop. He might have heard the king, or Lila- not Lila- or someone else, but none of them were as loud as the voice in his head. 

Hello, flower boy. 

He crashed into his room, shouldering through the door and straight to the floor. Kell had enough sense to shut it behind him, kicking it closed with one foot, but then there was nothing but the dark and the cold and icy hands against his neck. Around it, like a vise. In his hair like a mother’s touch. On his shoulders like a father’s. They were worse than the fists, worse than the sting of Rhy’s knuckles when they hadn’t been Rhy’s at all-

A sudden sob tore from Kell’s mouth and he scrambled for his coat, the one flash of red he could still see through the tears, but when he tried to stand to put it on he only fell back to the floor. His feet had frozen too, and he felt that they would snap apart if he tried again. Tight as wire, his voice was the whine of a dying animal.

She was back, just as she’d been again and again for the past four months.

“No, no, shut up, go away, go away please-”

I should keep you.

Kell couldn’t hear anything else but his heart and his breaths and the white queen’s voice, sharp like the wind in winter, and so very cold like a knife to his chest-

I will own your life.

“Y-you can’t have it, it belongs to Rh-”

As if summoned, the door flew open, bright light filling the room and tracing the shape of the prince in the dark. Kell could see the outline of his crown perched in his hair, the sheen of his golden eyes filled with concern, but he blinked and more tears fell. Then it wasn’t Rhy anymore.

“Kell, Saints, you’re freezing the room-”

Behind him, Lila’s- not Lila’s- voice sparked, drawing closer with every thudding beat of his heart. 

“Kell, hey, I’m sorry-”

Kell let out a cracked sound that he’d hate himself for later, his magic surging with the scent of petals before a gust of frigid air pushed the false prince away and slammed the door shut again. Kell pulled himself further away from it, back near the wall, fingers searching first for the icy hands tracing his chest before tangling in the soft folds of his coat. It was still warm, and Kell tried to choke back the tiniest sob of relief as he pulled it close around his shoulders like a sheet. The tears on his cheeks felt like snow.

The hands against his throat shifted to his chin, as if the queen was right behind him, her nails raking feather-light against his skin. He shook and followed them and their pull, wishing that someone, that anyone else was here but her, because he was helpless to stop it. His magic was hot, surging with the adrenaline in his veins, but he couldn’t summon anything but the stinking scent of flowers and it was nothing against the cold threatening to split him apart.

She was everywhere.

Saints, he hated flowers so much.

The queen laughed- why hate what you are, sweetness- and Kell looked up and saw nothing but the glimmering dark of his room and the white shards slowly covering everything in frosted white.

[beebrainedstudios]

More ADSOM Headcanons

Just cause I feel like it.

- Whenever Osaron possessed Holland, the tips of his hair, his hands, and the skin around his eyes would grow cold and hard, like stone. This effect was also partially present even when Osaron wasn’t in full control, which helped contribute to Holland’s “uncanny-valley youthful” appearance.

- This is really more of an extrapolation of canon, but Osaron is a cleithrophobe and a somniphobe (I think those are the right words), meaning he’s afraid of staying still/being trapped and sleeping! Both situations remind him of his time on the throne in Black London, which, in combination with his natural restlessness, makes him very active to the point of obsession. These fears are a huge part of his more, more, more motivation and put him in conflict with Holland often; during Holland’s time as king, Osaron would possess him at night out of an intense desire to move and avoid sleeping, and he didn’t like it when Holland would sit on the throne (I don’t think we ever actually see him do so...).

- Lila loves poetry. Though she wasn’t exposed to it much when she was young, she gets more opportunities to read it during her time in Arnes, and she secretly hoards anthologies of poems she finds on her travels. Rhy later finds out from Kell and is happy to share some Arnesian literature with her; it’s a great way for him to get rid of some of his old school scrolls.

- Antari naturally have a higher body temperature than normal people due to the warmth of their magic. An Antari who is badly ill or unable to access their magic will typically be very cold to the touch and may even be at risk of hypothermia.

- Alucard has pain in his shoulder during the winter from the injury Berras gave him, and there is a large scar on the back of his head (hidden by his hair) where his father struck him with his cane.

- I may explore this more later, but all of the separate Londons have their own climates and ecology; Grey is the equivalent to our world, Red is overly warm and humid with lots of floodplains, White is cold and snowy (even before the Split) with mountains and cold jungles, and Black London is tropical and somewhat coastal (its ocean is much higher and closer to the city, and the river is bigger). Animals also vary between the worlds. A tiger in Grey looks different from the same species in Red, and mythical creatures such as dragons, sea serpents, and unicorns actually exist in some of the worlds (they’re still very rare).

- Kell, Lila, the Danes, and Maxim have all named their weapons. Maxim’s royal full-sword is named Suncatcher. Lila has too many knives to list, but all of them are named something fearsome and tough, like “Claw,” (or after poets, but she’d die before admitting it). Kell secretly named his silver knife Loyal, as it has always been true to him like he wants to be for everyone else. Athos’ whip is named Typhon, while Astrid’s twin axes are named Mercy and Victor (she typically refers to them in Maktahn though).

- Antari are naturally more vulnerable to poisons and blunt injury than normal people, but are more resistant to open wounds or blood-related injuries; they’ll be much weaker and sleepier while healing, but have a dramatically lessened recovery time.

- Unnatural eye colors are extremely common in all non-Grey worlds, and things like strange hair colors or even small horns and such occasionally occurred in Black London. It is also common for someone’s appearance to change when their magic is activated, like Maxim’s molten eyes.

- Calling someone “blackhearted” has a significantly stronger connotation in non-Grey worlds.

- Dog-sledding is a thing in the White world, but it typically occurs outside of London due to the need for snow cover.

- All of the worlds have different pet preferences. Birds are the most popular pets in Red, White prefers dogs or mules, and Black likes marine animals/fish (especially octopuses, mantis shrimp, and cuttlefish).

- Also sorta mentioned in canon, but Antari can be much stronger than is seen in the main series. They can specialize in certain spells if given enough training (such as healers being able to regrow limbs) and in theory, one could gain the ability to carry others through world gates. There are also many As spells that have been lost to time. Unfortunately, most current Antari either lack the training or the experience needed to learn these skills.

- Alucard is sometimes uncomfortable post-ACOL during high-profile events, as many noble traditions remind him of his family. He also really misses his crew and being a pirate.

- Nobody liked King Nokil (Maxim’s dad) as he was openly cruel, violent, and selfish; the Storm King, a testament to his volatile personality. He was also known for threatening staff (like he does with Teiren in Steel Prince). When Maxim took over (through a series of trials where he beat Nokil; his father lived for several years after Maxim took the throne and even met Rhy), he was seen as the Sun returning after a Storm.

- Athos, as much as he enjoys Holland’s suffering, also sees him subconsciously as a comfort object, like some people’s lucky tokens or trinkets. Holland provides an immense measure of security as someone strong who can fight, defend, and die unquestioningly for the Danes; this is very useful and comforting for someone who has only ever known violence and insecurity, especially someone who feels at least somewhat responsible for the protection of another. Athos is unaware of this sentiment, but does acknowledge that having Holland as a shield and bodyguard makes him feel safer.

- Rhy hums a lot, especially when he’s thinking.

- Kell often has nightmares centered around boats; while he blames this on his drowning experiences + Rhy’s disappearance, these are actually subconsciously connected to the night his parents sold him. Sometimes, the boat will be on fire (his mother is a strong fire magician).

- Oshoc do occasionally pop up in powerful artifacts in Red, but they are typically too weak to sustain themselves for more than a few hours. They aren’t naturally aggressive; all oshoc, like Osaron, are sort of like AIs- they learn through interaction. However, while it is entirely possible to have a nice oshoc, it’s never been recorded.

- Teiren and Maris regularly meet to discuss magic and whine about their coworkers.

[beebrainedstudios]

Hello! Could you tell me more about how you interpret/headcanon the sentient magic in Darker shades of magic? I read some of yours posts and I'm fascinated by the concept

Hi, and thank you! I'm glad you've found my theories interesting! This may be a little bit long and rambling, as I’m still nailing out just how I interpret the magic in this series. Some of this I came up with on the spot and some of it’s torn from previous posts, so if I later change things or contradict myself, that’s why. Enjoy!

So, magic is canonically implied to have some sort of will in the series. As Kell says it’s alive, even if it isn’t alive in quite the same way that people are, and it seems to express some sort of comprehension in the way that it has the potential to resist, act out, or flee (as is the case in White London). It seems to have the capacity to think and possess an agenda too, such as when Kell was able to perform spells he technically shouldn’t have (As Travars-ing while under the influence of a royal sword); the magic “let him in,” with the implication being it was because he asked it instead of commanding it. Now, I don’t think it’s sentient in the same way that Osaron is- it’s more like a force made of the threads of power, acting naturally, but with enough understanding to show favor or distaste. It’s not organic, it doesn’t think organically, but it can perceive and respond.

However, this kind of magic isn’t the only kind. I like to think that magic in ADSOM occurs in different types. First, there’s natural magic, the kind discussed above that is present everywhere and in everything. This kind of magic is sort of like a blanket that covers each world. Before the Split, it was able to move between each world, but regardless of where it’s from, magic develops a different “personality” depending on its relationship with the local people. Natural magic has a symbiotic relationship with humans that is supposed to be mutualistic- the magic gets used (which is its primary motivation) and people reap the benefits. In a stable world where this is happening, magic moves swiftly and readily interacts with people. However, in worlds where this relationship is disrupted (such as in Grey where it isn’t used) or where magic is abused (such as in White where magic is needed so much that they bind it), it has a tendency to leave or wither. In short, it won’t stay in a hostile or poor environment.

All people also have their own specific magic, which is really just their personal store of power that’s used whenever they cast spells and whatnot. This varies tremendously based on age, skill, luck, and other factors, but every person has access to different elements or spell types (Runes vs enchanting objects, for example). The scent also varies with each person, but only those who are well equipped in tracking magic or Antari are usually able to distinguish it.

Then there’s oshoc- AKA Osaron and Vitari. There’s no specific definition for them, but I’m going to define them as a separate chunk of magic that originated from a source and is capable of learning; basically a magic AI. Now, the books are vague on Osaron’s origins; magic appeared in Black London one day, but refused to interact with people until it grew lonely and bored enough to seek them out, and this is when Osaron first appears. Now, I’m going to take it a step further and say this was when Osaron was actually born; natural magic had already appeared, but a separate piece of it broke off due to a new desire and ceased being everywhere and in everything so it could be its own contained entity. So, Osaron can act independently of natural magic and actually works by manipulating the threads of power; he’s a catalyst that can manipulate the “equations” of spells, starting them or stopping them or changing them around. However, he still has the same innate desire to interact and change that natural magic has. He also made the Vitari stone, which is where Vitari comes from- it later developed a consciousness that is much less developed than Osaron (it is actively learning during ADSOM) but still focused on spreading and being used. As a general rule of thumb, an oshoc is able to use any magic no matter what kind it is- there’s not so much a symbiotic relationship there as a system they can access at any time. For humans, it’s a relationship; for oshoc, it’s a bunch of threads to be moved, as they don’t differentiate between natural magic or themselves and natural magic doesn’t either. All oshoc also rely on other sources of power to “jump-start” their own, typically in the form of the worlds' magic or humans.

Spells and enchanted objects are not magic- they are manipulations of magic that draw on its power, essentially chemical equations in magical chemistry, if that makes sense. So no will, no agenda, nothing- they’re just actions, but they can affect natural magic and oshoc. Normal spells are generally viewed positively by natural magic as a sign of use, but things like binding runes and the collar are seen as threats. Most spells are allowed or even aided by magic- meaning they are used easily- but anyone with a strong enough will or power will be able to use magic regardless of whether or not magic “likes” it (such as Athos with Vitari).

Finally, there’s Antari. Being a mixture of man and magic, natural magic has an innate connection with them that usually amounts to mutual affection for both parties. This bond is always present even when passive, and allows Antari to sense magic much more easily than normal humans; it is also what is responsible for the instinctual urge to travel and need to use their magic often. Antari feel a pull towards strong magic that can be compared to warmth in a cold room. The bond is stronger when an Antari likes their magic and tries to connect with it- this is why Kell (and Rowan) are typically favored by magic and allowed to get away with impossible spells, while characters like Lila or Holland have to put a little more work into it. There are a few drawbacks to this connection though, most notably a weakness in magic-poor areas and a vulnerability to oshoc, which directly prey on this connection in order to possess them. Due to the strength of this connection, humans placing large scale attacks on Antari can draw magic's ire, leading to storms and disasters as magic wields the elements to make a point. This generally only occurs when extremely powerful Antari are killed or when they die in large numbers though. On a smaller scale, it is common for flowers to grow in any earth that Antari blood touches, and an Antari's sour mood can summon rain or wind.

A few other random thoughts on the subject:

The reason Osaron and Vitari can possess Antari while Astrid can’t is due to their access to magic’s threads- oshoc can hijack the Antari-magic connection to more easily enter a mind than a human would be able to.

Examples of natural magic’s “favor;” Kell As Travars-ing while stabbed by a royal-half sword and Holland instinctually learning Antari spells with no prior knowledge of them.

It’s magic itself that Holland hears calling him when he dies.

The black plague is not a kind of magic, it’s a virus-like thing that overtakes and corrupts magic until it excites itself into nothing. Osaron is not solely capable of making it and does not consciously do so. The plague simply appears when magic is too strong and being manipulated too much; Osaron tends to cause it due to his power levels and overindulgence in using magic, but anybody powerful and overly-eccentric enough could theoretically cause it too. Oshoc however are immune.

Oshoc have access to the threads of power and can instinctively use them, but they must naturally learn about everything else, which is why neither Vitari nor Osaron had any idea what was going on when they first went to Red London. This is also why they lack many human social traits and are so easily confused by human behavior. That being said, there are some spells they can use for shortcuts, such as automatically translating things (Osaron does it in ACOL).

Osaron also feels an innate appreciation for Antari like magic does, but his consciousness also allows him to be annoyed with him; while he’d like to befriend them all, he doesn’t mind getting rid of them if they aren’t willing to do the same.

Neither natural magic nor oshoc really have any moral drive. The latter could theoretically be taught morals, but they don't look at things the same way people do, so there's less internal pressure to behave than there is for them to cast spells. Like everything else, it would be a learning curve.

And that's all I've got for now! I realize I may have strayed slightly outside the topic of the sentient magic specifically; my apologies! I guess I just got excited writing about everything and how the magic systems connect. Enjoy!

[beebrainedstudios]

if you ever have the time for it i am DYING to see what your holland playlist would look like!

Well, in that case...

Here’s Heavy Is The Head, an ADSOM Holland Vosijk playlist for all your bitter Antari needs! This playlist is long, but that’s because it’s specially formulated to have songs suited to different points in Holland’s life, and they appear in order so you can listen to specific events at your pleasure! So anon/anyone else looking, if you’ll indulge me, here’s a list of all the songs used, some with notes describing their place here;

First, general thoughts. I wanted this playlist to have plenty of dark ambient moments, but also several harsh and defiant ones, too; Holland is not as much of a sad character to me as he is angry, and a lot of his power and drive comes from a place of vengeance, wrath, and righteous justice. So, there’s a lot of rock, folk, and indie pop here. I tried to include all types of music to suit different tastes too, since I’m fairly diverse with my music choices. All that said-

Disclaimer: Some of these songs have profanity/swearing in them. As well, some of them have dark themes, undertones, and implications, so know that ahead of time. It’s a Holland playlist- I don’t feel like there’s anything here that’s darker than canon, but it’s still something any potential listeners should know. Consider this your warning.

Part 1- A Darker Shade Of Magic

Hollow (Cloudeater)

“I stay empty, I feel the hunger…”

Look Away (The Dear Hunter)

“And don’t you misjudge what I’m capable of, if I’m heir to a broken will…”

Wrath of Man (Chris Benstead)

(No lyrics, just the creeping sense of a vengeful creature stalking you. If anyone���s seen this movie, you’ll get the tone it sets.)

Paul Newman vs The Demons- Avett Brothers

“You may have to drag me away from my demons, kicking and screaming…”

Oleander (Mother Mother)

“I”ll be unclean, I’ll be obscene, you’ll be the rest…”

(Holland from the perspective of the Danes, specifically Athos.)

The Wolf (Phildel)

“The wishes I’ve made are too vicious to tell…”

Pain (Three Days Grace)

“Cause I’d rather feel pain than nothing at all..”

(Here half as a callback to an old joke and half because Holland is not immune to an edgy rock phase.)

Black Eyes (Radical Face)

“My heart will be blacker than your eyes when I’m through with you..”

Arsonist’s Lullaby (Hozier)

“On all the ashes in my wake…”

(Holland, willing or no, is still canonly an arsonist. Also, Hozier.)

P.O.L.I.T.I.C.S. (MISSIO)

“This friendship is worse than, P-O-L-I-T-I-C-S…”

(One of the most diametric differences between Holland and Kell is their views on each other’s kingdoms.)

In The Air Tonight (Natalie Taylor)

“If you told me you were drowning, I would not lend a hand…”

Blood On My Name (The Brothers Bright)

“Nowhere to run, nowhere to run, nowhere to run…”

(Mood for the beginning of the final Holland vs. Kell fight in ADSOM)

One Way Or Another (Until The Ribbon Breaks)

“And if the lights are all down…”

(End of the fight, Holland’s death #1, and his fall into Black London)

Part 2- A Gathering of Shadows

Bleeding White (Avett Brothers)

“I’m bleeding gold in the streets, but there’s no one to see, because the kingdom is empty…”

(Holland’s king now.)

Kings (Tribe Society)

“I’ll take my throne, lay it on a mountain, and make myself a king…”

When They Come For Me (Linkin Park)

“And it seems ugly, but it can get worse…”

Me And Mine (The Brothers Bright)

“I will burn your kingdom down, if you try to conquer me and mine…”

(Holland making some foreign relations plans.)

Feeling Good (Michael Buble)

“It’s a new dawn, a new day, a new life…”

Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing (Set It Off)

“Tell me how you’re sleeping easy, how you’re only thinking of yourself…”

(Holland’s revenge arc starts.)

Choke (IDKHBTFM)

“I wouldn’t hesitate, to smile while you suffocate…”

Roman Empire (MISSIO)

“You’re an empire, the darkest of empires…”

(Holland’s view of Red London.)

My Name (Charlie Winston)

“I won't apologize for the mess that you're in, I'm gonna hide my eyes from your crimson sin…”

Liver Lungs Spleen Heart (Chris Benstead)

(Again, no lyrics, but this is the mood when Holland’s plan really starts coming into effect.)

Have It Out (Mother Mother)

“But what is he good for, if he’s just a spectator of war, I have it in for, have it in for, have it in for…”

(Holland and Kell’s “conversation” at the end of AGOS + Holland’s grudge against Kell in general.)

The Yawning Grave (Lord Huron)

“Darkness brings evil things, oh the reckoning begins…”

(The tables turn on Holland.)

Burn Him Down (Kitsch Club)

“This Woodsy’s been worn one too many a time…”

(For context, this song is about burning the suit of a retired Forest Service mascot, which in a twisted way is parallel to Osaron possessing Holland. In short, destroy the old guy because he’s damaged and worn- AKA Holland.)

Part 3- A Conjuring Of Light

The Waking Nightmare (Frankenstein World Premiere Recording)

“I’m here in the waking nightmare, and every moment tastes of death…”

Four Walls/The Ballad of Perry Smith (Bastille)

“Now we’re faced with two wrongs, I don’t know, no I don’t know…”

(Holland facing his imminent execution.)

Bring Me To Life (Evanescence)

“Without a thought, without a voice, without a soul- don't let me die here…”

(How could I not include this?)

Sin Triangle (Sidney Gish)

“I've got to work on my face now, I'm wearing shades when it's dark out, but don't you worry I'm just being cool, like everybody else around this school…”

(Holland while on the boat/observing the rest of the group.)

I’m So Sorry (Imagine Dragons)

“You’ll never know the top ‘till you get too low…”

Human (Rag’n’Bone Man)

“I’m only human, that’s all it takes, don’t put the blame on me…”

Sing To Me (MISSIO)

“Sing to me 'cause I can't hear myself, through the loudness of my own hurts…”

I Will Not Bow (Breaking Benjamin)

“And I am not proud, cold-blooded, fake, I will shut the world away…”

(The final battle with Osaron.)

Up The Wolves (The Mountain Goats)

“It’s gonna take you people years to recover from all of the damage…”

(Holland’s sacrifice.)

Part 4- Backstory/Life Flashing Before His Eyes

Head Full Of Doubt/Road Full Of Promise (Avett Brothers)

“And there was a kid with a head full of doubt, so I’ll  scream ‘till I die and the last of those bad thoughts are finally out…”

(Holland’s grand destiny.)

A Dustland Fairytale (The Killers)

“Is there still magic in the midnight sun, or did you leave it back in sixty-one, in the cadence of a young man’s eyes…”

(Holland as the Someday King.)

Borderland (John Marc McMillan)

“Help me Holy Lord, I see the light of Heaven’s porch, but so many of us are born here outside your chain-link fence…”

(Holland growing up and meeting Vortalis.)

Poor George (James Supercave)

“Poor George, poor George, he never learned how to stop…”

(Vortalis’ reign and subsequent death.)

I Knew You Once (Hollie Allen)

“Yes, I knew you once, and it was nice…”

(Holland’s past relationships and how he misses them.)

Bohemian Rhapsody (Panic! At The Disco)

“Carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters…”

(Holland’s entire life flashing before his eyes, riddled with pain, power, and a refusal to submit.)

Part 5- The End

Kettering (The Antlers)

“And I didn’t believe them when they told me that there was no saving you…”

(Kell and Holland preparing to leave for White London, with Kell wishing things could be different and Holland wishing they had been.)

Never Been Alive (Avett Brothers)

“I’ve never been alive, like I am now…”

Numb (MARINA)

“And I’ll light up the sky, stars that burn the brightest fall so fast and pass you by, cough like empty lighters…”

(Holland’s final death- the end.)

Congrats to everyone who read this far- this is my first playlist, so I may have gone a bit overboard. Please enjoy, and let me know if there’s any other ADSOM characters I should do one of these for!

[beebrainedstudios]

Next up on the ADSOM refs list is Ojka, the knight in white armor to everyone’s favorite Someday King. I love Ojka, she stole every scene she appeared in and provided a welcome point of view for White London during AGOS. As with all of the second wave ADSOM refs, I will be including a list of headcanons/design notes under the cut, as I took some creative liberties this time around considering Ojka doesn’t get a lot of description. Enjoy!

- The first (and probably most notable) thing to discuss is the fact that Ojka’s design + pose are obviously inspired by ballet. I did a bit of research and discovered that ballet as a dance form existed well before the Londons would have split. One thing led to another and, considering that Ojka is constantly referred to as “dancing” with her knives, I thought it would be neat if Ojka was actually skilled in ballet. It’s an extremely rigorous style of dance that has a lot of history, so it would make sense if it was used by some Maktahn fighters to train and strengthen their muscles when they’re young so they will be better prepared for combat later. So, my headcanon is that Ojka’s family knew this skill and passed it on to her, which she used to help perfect her knife technique.

- I wanted to give Ojka lots of armor (to add to the knight vibes) while also allowing for a broad range of motion to account for her fighting style. I ended up referencing ballet costumes (male and female), my Dane refs, and even a few Met Gala outfits before I found something I was happy with. Ojka’s armor gives her a lot of protection while also allowing her to dart around with her knives, and in a pinch she can use all of the spare metal to form weapons or ensnare enemies. Her boots are also specialized with special metal toes that can pack a serious punch if she chooses to use them.

- The markings on her armor are references to Holland’s symbol, a sparrow (he loves birds and they seem fairytale enough for Holland’s preferences). 

- There’s also a few references to Osaron in Ojka’s design as well, since I wanted to emphasize that it wasn’t really Holland’s magic that gave her Antari abilities. So, like Osaron, Ojka’s blood is iridescent (hers is still red though) and she has a glassy black necklace that’s the same color and texture as Osaron himself. Also, her Antari eye is completely different from the other three’s- it has a slit pupil, a defined iris, and a stronger hue than the natural Antari’s eyes. The pupil goes white when she uses her magic or communicates with Osaron. Post-resurrection, both eyes change to match her Antari eye.

- I normally wouldn’t pair blue-toned whites, bright yellow, and really bright red together like this without changing some saturation and values, but honestly, the fact that these colors are glaring together is kind of the point of unnatural rejuvenation and Ojka’s canonly described as jarring, so it all works out.

- Now onto life/personality headcanons! Ojka is one of only two extroverts met in White London (the other is Athos, Vortalis is ambiverted, everyone else is an introvert), which is not always the best place to be when social interaction can get you killed really easily in your hometown. Despite the danger Ojka has always been fairly friendly, even to people that she’s fighting;

(I mean come on, isn’t this basically how the Lila/Ojka fight went down, at least from Ojka’s end?)

She may be planning to kill them, but there’s gonna be some witty banter first. Ojka is fortunately one of the most naturally gifted fighters in London, which has allowed her to keep her relatively upbeat personality no matter how hard things get; she’s probably the only optimist around by the time Holland shows up. This personality trait gives her a serious advantage when the new king comes around. She settles in fairly easily to the Iron Guard, gets along so well with her co-workers that she’s promoted to King’s Guard, and then survives the Antari experiments, and throughout it all she keeps her social butterfly tendencies. IDK, we see a lot of reserved, introverted, or downright cold people from White London (which makes sense, there’s a lot of trauma going around) but I wanted there to be at least one extroverted optimist since it adds an interesting perspective on London’s sorry state.

- Now for a headcanon with two variants since I can’t decide which is more likely. When I read Ojka’s POV in AGOS, it was fairly obvious that she feels something in regards to Holland. I mean come on, she can’t go more than two paragraphs without calling him beautiful, strong, godly, or referencing his jawline/muscle tone. It’s a very distinctive language shift from the “cold, dead, stone-eyed” Holland usually described. There’s two reasons I can see for this; one, Ojka has a crush. No problem, it’s actually a really cute idea considering both parties likely know there’s no time for a relationship and that things wouldn’t work out for obvious reasons. It would just amount to Ojka catching herself staring at Holland a little too long every now and then before they settle into just being good friends. Option two is a little more interesting; what if this was Osaron’s magic influencing her? Osaron works by compulsion more than outright possession, and when he takes people over they develop a strange adoration for him. What if that was happening on a very minor scale, where Ojka becomes extremely devoted to her Someday King because the magic she’s hosting wants her to adore the creature possessing him? It’s an interesting thought at least. I’m not sure which of these ideas I think is the truth, they both have potential, but I thought they were at least worthy of mention.

- Ojka is a skilled writer who spends her free-time chronicling the Someday King’s exploits. These records are later used by White London to figure out what life during Holland’s reign was like.

- Ojka gets bored easily and has a tendency to prank others/cause trouble- provided it’s in a way Holland doesn’t mind.

- I haven’t actually drawn this, but I usually imagine Ojka with two other Iron Guards getting up to mischief around the palace. They aren’t really OCs per say, just two background characters in my head whose appearances have remained fairly consistent. Maybe I’ll draw them sometime, IDK, but the point is that Ojka has friends and Holland has to keep his eye on them to keep them from causing havoc.

So yeah, that’s Ojka! I really stretched some things with her since I wanted her to stand out among all of the other White Londoners, and I think it really shows. A pity we never got to learn more about her or the Iron Guard.

[beebrainedstudios]

Next up for the refs, Maxim! A complicated design for a complicated man. My opinions on Maxim went from love to hate to “I wish you knew what you were doing;” he’s a really fun character, especially with the context of the Steel Prince comics. That being said, just like with the Danes I’ll be including design notes and headcanons under the cut, which may include spoilers for the comics; ergo POSSIBLE SPOILERS FOR STEEL PRINCE. You have been warned. Also, my writing got really small on this ref, so I recommend clicking the image if you want to read the ref notes.

Anyways, on to Maxim!

- First up, hair. Maxim has a multitude of locks that all vary in length; he grew them out after he took the throne and has barely cut them since. There’s no specific way Maxim likes his hair, as he’ll arrange it into various different styles depending on his mood. The gold rings are actually there to help with this process, as they allow him to move each lock individually with his magic when he’s putting it up. This variable ring structure has the added bonus of creating a cool rippling effect when his magic activates; when Maxim quite literally gets heated, his influence spreads to the rings and any other small metal objects in the area, allowing his locks to shift in the heated air in an effect Rhy jokingly refers to as a “solar flare.” Maxim’s mood can actually be gauged purely by how much his hair moves or how warm he is, which is a trait his family finds endearing even if he himself finds it mildly annoying- after all, it’s difficult to come off as calm and composed if everyone in your kingdom knows your hair will give away how ticked off you are.

- As for his outfit, I love the asymmetrical geometric aesthetic put forth in the comics for Red London royalty; naturally, I leaned hard into this aesthetic and then immediately hid it all behind overly-complicated armor. Maxim is a huge armor nerd- anything metal is his specialty, and he prides himself immensely on both his armor and his weapons. He got his armor early in his youth and fiercely maintained it throughout his life until he was as attached to it as Kell was to his coat; he likes to swap parts around from multiple sets to create new looks. This is considered light armor for Maxim- at minimum he’ll have his crown and breastplate on. It’s very rare to catch him without any gear, but on the rare occasion one does, they’ll find he has a very similar outfit to Rhy, especially from the waist down. Fun fact, both he and Rhy’s pants are based on fencing knickers (fencing uniform pants), since both myself and VE Schwab are fencers. 

- Maxim has many scars from his time at the Blood Coast, including two nasty ones on his brow and nose. He used to be rather embarrassed by them until he met Emira, who loved his scars as a part of him and told him so constantly. Now, like his armor, they are a source of pride.

- Speaking of pride, Maxim takes a lot of it in how he looks, especially with his hair, eyes, and clothes. As such, Rhy learned most of his knowledge about maintaining his appearance from his father; the only thing Maxim couldn’t contribute to was Rhy’s hair care, as that is something his son has more in common with his mother. Maxim often wakes himself up by doing his hair and picking out his jewelry in the mornings, and if he’s feeling particularly bold he may even slip on some golden eyeshadow or a flashier necklace. Maxim has never mistaken the value of appearances in how someone feels about themselves either; he is liberal with compliments in the palace both to family and staff, as he knows someone does their best work when they feel happiest in their skin. He takes particular care to comment on Kell’s coat and hair, as he knows his adopted son’s appearance is a point of self-contention that he doesn’t want to foster. 

- Maxim’s sword is like Kell’s coat; he carries it everywhere- even to social functions- and is unashamedly fond of it. It is essentially the larger version of the royal half-sword that Maxim can wield in either hand (he’s ambidextrous!) and can even change the style of; if he wishes for it to be a two-handed sword, he only has to stretch the grip with his magic. Maxim can heat it forge-hot without it melting; in this state it’s incredibly dangerous and can cut through almost anything. There are two easter eggs in the runes on the sword, if anyone wants to look close enough to find them!

- All of Maxim’s stuff is sun-themed as a half-callback to the Maresh symbol, which has given him the additional title of the “Molten Sun,” an affectionate term used by guards to refer to their commander-in-chief. Maxim is really close to his guards and treats them as extended family; after all, he used to be one of them. He knows most of them by name and is fiercely protective of them- anyone who tries to mess with his staff as a whole is due for a personal warning from the king to desist, which is best heeded if one doesn’t want to drink their meals for a week.

- As said on the ref, Maxim is big. He spends a lot of his free time training as a nervous habit, which regardless of effect on his psyche keeps him in tip-top shape at all times. He’s easily as tall as Holland and is one of the few people Kell must stand upright with to look in the eye. He’s also immensely strong; this man could probably bench-press three guards in full armor with Emira sitting on top. I’ve seen some people suggest Athos alone could win in a fight against him before- maybe its due to the state of my own design for said Dane (in summary, scrawny as heck), but the only way I can see that going down in a one-on-one confrontation is with Athos getting punted like an angry white football. Personal preference, I guess.

- Now for personality! Maxim is a lover and a fighter, beloved and seen by all in his kingdom as a ray of sunshine, especially after the stormy clouds of his father’s cold and strict reign. He is as kind as he is tall and spends a lot of his time helping citizens solve problems or simply drifting around the palace, ready to aide his staff in their jobs. He’s vibrant and animated, too; the palace is often stirred to life when the sun rises by Maxim’s “quiet” singing as he heads towards the kitchens. Little does everyone know, behind that cheery and loving facade is an incredibly calculating individual. Maxim was born and raised only to be the perfect war king by his father Nokil with little personal care or respect for Maxim’s wishes, and though Maxim vowed to never be like him, some of Nokil’s parenting still unfortunately rubbed off. Maxim is always watching for threats and prepping for battle, mentally, physically, and otherwise; a threat to him or his kingdom is constantly around the corner, as far as he’s concerned. He must have a plan at all times or else he gets anxious and defensive, and if he’s backed into a corner, he’ll choose a risky course of action over no action at all (ergo, the Osaron fight). Maxim may be deeply loving, but he can’t help but see people’s worth to the kingdom first; when he’s feeling stressed it takes real effort for him to step back and see people as people instead of pawns he’s trying to get across the board.

- As far as hobbies go, Maxim doesn’t spend much of his free time on himself; he’s a full-time father, king, and husband, which leaves little room for downtime. Most of what he has left over he devotes to training, courtesy of his father’s horrible “kingdom-first” mindset that has still scars his adulthood. Still, Maxim does have a few interests he fosters; he loves cartography (a trait he shares with Kell) and likes to make his own maps by hand. He also loves chess, music, and gem/metal geology- if Emira wasn’t already in charge of the kingdom’s finances Maxim would have spent it all on new gemstone inlays or gold decorations. He’s still a fun-loving man, even if he doesn’t know how to spend much time on himself.

- Maxim is a very caring father and husband; he loves his family to bits and is completely devoted to them, even if he sometimes royally slips up when things get difficult. He and Emira both believe in equally sharing parental duties, so he spent a good chunk of his time when Kell and Rhy were growing right beside them, guiding them along. Contrary to what one may think, Maxim was the parent Kell was always closest to; they could often be found together in the map room, Kell watching with fascination as Maxim carefully traced the lines of landmarks and geographical features, switching his quill between hands when one grew too tired. Meanwhile, when Rhy wanted to hang out with his father, they both would spar with wooden swords or play games like hide-and-seek or chess together. It was only due to Maxim’s own poor father that Maxim was unable to properly communicate with Kell post-ADSOM; he simply assumed a little distance would do them both good, unaware that he was both continuing a cycle of neglect by repeating his father’s mistake and giving Kell the one thing he didn’t need (for those who don’t know, Nokil- Maxim’s dad- sent Maxim to the most dangerous part of the empire, the Blood Coast, because Maxim disobeyed him. Maxim emotionally did something very similar in AGOS by treating Kell coldly). Nonetheless, Maxim never stopped considering Kell a son and recognized his mistake; unfortunately, by the time he saw his error in the cells, he was in too deep to give Kell the freedom he needed and Kell was too angry to try and compromise until circumstances were more favorable. Maxim also never stood up for Kell against Emira; between his wife and his son, he always assumed Kell was the stronger of the two and would eventually stand up for himself. This, as we all know, turned out to be false, and Maxim regretted it for the rest of his life that he never tried to talk to Emira about her treatment of the second son of the Maresh family. 

So yeah, sorry for the long wall of text! I really like Maxim as a character (even if I acknowledge he struggles badly as a parent) so I wanted to give him more depth and a design worthy of his complexity. I hope you enjoyed it; if anyone has any questions or comments I’d love to hear them!

[beebrainedstudios]

NOTE: I know I posted this before, but I wanted to make a new post for it, as a) I’m working on Emira now so it would fit to have them posted close to each other, and b) I don’t think the previous post showed up in tags even when reblogged (I tried, then deleted it when it didn’t work). I also finished the Steel Prince comics, so my opinions have changed a bit (I still think he’s very well-written no matter how angry he makes me, especially with the context of the comics, but he’s definitely made some mistakes, and Maxim, no wonder Antari have a problem with you). So, I’m copy-pasting the original post+tags with minor edits in the hopes it works this time; apologies for the repeat everyone! 

BTW I know this character is generally disliked by the fandom; that’s totally cool, he’s not my favorite either. But I do think he’s interesting, so with the headcanons below I tried to extrapolate/explain (not excuse!) some of his actions. If you disagree/think I’m reading too far into it/think I missed something, PLEASE take all of this with a grain of salt. 

Copy-Pasted Stuff:

Next up for the refs, Maxim! A complicated design for a complicated man. My opinions on Maxim went from love to hate to “I wish you knew what you were doing;” he’s a really fun character, especially with the context of the Steel Prince comics. That being said, just like with the Danes I’ll be including design notes and headcanons under the cut, which may include spoilers for the comics; ergo POSSIBLE SPOILERS FOR STEEL PRINCE. You have been warned. Also, my writing got really small on this ref, so I recommend clicking the image if you want to read the ref notes.

Anyways, on to Maxim!

- First up, hair. Maxim has a multitude of locks that all vary in length; he grew them out after he took the throne and has barely cut them since. There’s no specific way Maxim likes his hair, as he’ll arrange it into various different styles depending on his mood. The gold rings are actually there to help with this process, as they allow him to move each lock individually with his magic when he’s putting it up. This variable ring structure has the added bonus of creating a cool rippling effect when his magic activates; when Maxim quite literally gets heated, his influence spreads to the rings and any other small metal objects in the area, allowing his locks to shift in the heated air in an effect Rhy jokingly refers to as a “solar flare.” Maxim’s mood can actually be gauged purely by how much his hair moves or how warm he is, which is a trait his family finds endearing even if he himself finds it mildly annoying- after all, it’s difficult to come off as calm and composed if everyone in your kingdom knows your hair will give away how ticked off you are.

- As for his outfit, I love the asymmetrical geometric aesthetic put forth in the comics for Red London royalty; naturally, I leaned hard into this aesthetic and then immediately hid it all behind overly-complicated armor. Maxim is a huge armor nerd- anything metal is his specialty, and he prides himself immensely on both his armor and his weapons. He got his armor early in his youth and fiercely maintained it throughout his life until he was as attached to it as Kell was to his coat; he likes to swap parts around from multiple sets to create new looks. This is considered light armor for Maxim- at minimum he’ll have his crown and breastplate on. It’s very rare to catch him without any gear, but on the rare occasion one does, they’ll find he has a very similar outfit to Rhy, especially from the waist down. Fun fact, both he and Rhy’s pants are based on fencing knickers (fencing uniform pants), since both myself and VE Schwab are fencers.

- Maxim has many scars from his time at the Blood Coast, including two nasty ones on his brow and nose. He used to be rather embarrassed by them until he met Emira, who loved his scars as a part of him and told him so constantly. Now, like his armor, they are a source of pride.

- Speaking of pride, Maxim takes a lot of it in how he looks, especially with his hair, eyes, and clothes. As such, Rhy learned most of his knowledge about maintaining his appearance from his father; the only thing Maxim couldn’t contribute to was Rhy’s hair care, as that is something his son has more in common with his mother. Maxim often wakes himself up by doing his hair and picking out his jewelry in the mornings, and if he’s feeling particularly bold he may even slip on some golden eyeshadow or a flashier necklace. Maxim has never mistaken the value of appearances in how someone feels about themselves either; he is liberal with compliments in the palace both to family and staff, as he knows someone does their best work when they feel happiest in their skin. He takes particular care to comment on Kell’s coat and hair, as he knows his adopted son’s appearance is a point of self-contention that he doesn’t want to foster.

- Maxim’s sword is like Kell’s coat; he carries it everywhere- even to social functions- and is unashamedly fond of it. It is essentially the larger version of the royal half-sword that Maxim can wield in either hand (he’s ambidextrous!) and can even change the style of; if he wishes for it to be a two-handed sword, he only has to stretch the grip with his magic. Maxim can heat it forge-hot without it melting; in this state it’s incredibly dangerous and can cut through almost anything. There are two easter eggs in the runes on the sword, if anyone wants to look close enough to find them!

- All of Maxim’s stuff is sun-themed as a half-callback to the Maresh symbol, which has given him the additional title of the “Molten Sun,” an affectionate term used by guards to refer to their commander-in-chief. Maxim is really close to his guards and treats them as extended family; after all, he used to be one of them. He knows most of them by name and is fiercely protective of them- anyone who tries to mess with his staff as a whole is due for a personal warning from the king to desist, which is best heeded if one doesn’t want to drink their meals for a week.

- As said on the ref, Maxim is big. He spends a lot of his free time training as a nervous habit, which regardless of effect on his psyche keeps him in tip-top shape at all times. He’s easily as tall as Holland and is one of the few people Kell must stand upright with to look in the eye. He’s also immensely strong; this man could probably bench-press three guards in full armor with Emira sitting on top. I’ve seen some people suggest Athos alone could win in a fight against him before- maybe its due to the state of my own design for said Dane (in summary, scrawny as heck), but the only way I can see that going down in a one-on-one confrontation is with Athos getting punted like an angry white football. Personal preference, I guess.

- Now for personality! Maxim is a lover and a fighter, beloved and seen by all in his kingdom as a ray of sunshine, especially after the stormy clouds of his father’s cold and strict reign. He is as kind as he is tall and spends a lot of his time helping citizens solve problems or simply drifting around the palace, ready to aide his staff in their jobs. He’s vibrant and animated, too; the palace is often stirred to life when the sun rises by Maxim’s “quiet” singing as he heads towards the kitchens. Little does everyone know, behind that cheery and loving facade is an incredibly calculating individual. Maxim was born and raised only to be the perfect war king by his father Nokil with little personal care or respect for Maxim’s wishes, and though Maxim vowed to never be like him, some of Nokil’s parenting still unfortunately rubbed off. Maxim is always watching for threats and prepping for battle, mentally, physically, and otherwise; a threat to him or his kingdom is constantly around the corner, as far as he’s concerned. He must have a plan at all times or else he gets anxious and defensive, and if he’s backed into a corner, he’ll choose a risky course of action over no action at all (ergo, the Osaron fight). Maxim may be deeply loving, but he can’t help but see people’s worth to the kingdom first; when he’s feeling stressed it takes real effort for him to step back and see people as people instead of pawns he’s trying to get across the board.

- As far as hobbies go, Maxim doesn’t spend much of his free time on himself; he’s a full-time father, king, and husband, which leaves little room for downtime. Most of what he has left over he devotes to training, courtesy of his father’s horrible “kingdom-first” mindset that has still scars his adulthood. Still, Maxim does have a few interests he fosters; he loves cartography (a trait he shares with Kell) and likes to make his own maps by hand. He also loves chess, music, and gem/metal geology- if Emira wasn’t already in charge of the kingdom’s finances Maxim would have spent it all on new gemstone inlays or gold decorations. He’s still a fun-loving man, even if he doesn’t know how to spend much time on himself.

- Maxim is a very caring father and husband; he loves his family to bits and is completely devoted to them, even if he sometimes royally slips up when things get difficult. He and Emira both believe in equally sharing parental duties, so he spent a good chunk of his time when Kell and Rhy were growing right beside them, guiding them along. Contrary to what one may think, Maxim was the parent Kell was always closest to; they could often be found together in the map room, Kell watching with fascination as Maxim carefully traced the lines of landmarks and geographical features, switching his quill between hands when one grew too tired. Meanwhile, when Rhy wanted to hang out with his father, they both would spar with wooden swords or play games like hide-and-seek or chess together. It was largely due to Maxim’s own poor father that Maxim was unable to properly communicate with Kell post-ADSOM; he simply assumed a little distance would do them both good, unaware that he was both continuing a cycle of neglect by repeating his father’s mistake and giving Kell the one thing he didn’t need (for those who don’t know, Nokil- Maxim’s dad- sent Maxim to the most dangerous part of the empire, the Blood Coast, because Maxim disobeyed him. Maxim emotionally did something very similar in AGOS by treating Kell coldly). Nonetheless, Maxim never stopped considering Kell a son and recognized his mistake; unfortunately, by the time he saw his error in the cells, he was in too deep to give Kell the freedom he needed and Kell was too angry to try and compromise until circumstances were more favorable. Maxim also never stood up for Kell against Emira; between his wife and his son, he always assumed Kell was the stronger of the two and would eventually stand up for himself. This, as we all know, turned out to be false, and Maxim regretted it for the rest of his life that he never tried to talk to Emira about her treatment of the second son of the Maresh family.

So yeah, sorry for the long wall of text! I really like Maxim as a character (even if I acknowledge he struggles badly as a parent) so I wanted to give him more depth and a design worthy of his complexity. I hope you enjoyed it; if anyone has any questions or comments I’d love to hear them!