#even if you don't quite speak it

[lloydfrontera]

i mean this in the least weird possible i promise but. i think that you get an extra layer of delight in reading tged and 약 파는 황태자 if you're used to consuming korean content. i'm not saying you're missing something important from them if you don't do this but,,,, i do think there are certain little details and humor that probably don't hit quite as much if you're not familiar with some of the culture and humor lol

it's just the little things, like lloyd calling javier "this punk" or "this guy" even while talking directly with him, because it feels sorta awkward in english, but if you're used to watching series or movies in korean you can almost hear the tone in which he's saying it.

or when javier is teasing lloyd and he hits too close at home and lloyd just goes "hey" but you can almost heart the "야" which is very close but not quite. or this little 'haah' he does when he's kind of frustrated or thinking hard about something.

or that you don't quite get why it's such a deal that julian started calling lloyd 'older brother' cause the translation doesn't use the word 'hyung'. or that the point of javier and lloyd's bet was that if lloyd lost he would call javier, someone younger than him, 'hyung' which would imply he's older and is a form of showing respect or affection. which is completely different from the 'master' they used in the translation. or how sweet and kind of sad it is that theodore still calls rakiel 'hyung' even when the whole court expects them to be against each other.

or just in general the way the dialogue flows feels much more natural when you consider that it was originally written in korean and not in english

it just,, small things that you don't quite notice unless you already have experience in dealing with a different language than the one you were raised with akjshdkja

[generalsmemories]

every time i see someone shit on the xianzhou story quest on twitter i die a little bit inside.

[susansontag]

you’d have to be so silly to think dumas wasn’t trying to imply eugenie is a lesbian in the count of monte cristo lol. she’s only just properly been introduced where I’m at and she’s basically described in accordance with invert theory. this is how people understood these ‘tendencies’ I’m p sure his audience would have known exactly what he was implying

[sysig]

The familiarity is not very comforting (Patreon)

[writeouswriter]

Girl, help, the book authors are trying too hard to be "hip" with the fleeting "teen lingo" and trends again, immediately dating their works before they're even released

[ryllen]

i'm so happy to see you've fallen into twisted wonderland, but i did NOT expect you to fall in love with Sebek. good for you!

Love is an overstatement.

All i want to do is tease & scrunch his whole being into a little ball. 🤣

[singsweetmelodies]

AKA: angst, miscommunication and a/b/o, feat. brief/mentioned maxierre with piarles endgame (+ implied maxiel.) happy birthday @boxboxbrioche my love

"Hello, Charles," Max smiles when Charles runs into him (literally) in the Budapest paddock on Thursday. He's wearing the same Red Bull team shirt and jeans as ever, naturally, but something about him looks unusually relaxed and content. Sated, even.

Probably because he's been winning practically every race this season, Charles thinks. That's enough reason for anyone to be looking relaxed and content.

Still, when he steps in a little closer to fist-bump Max's proffered hand, he can't help but notice it. Max's scent is... more than just content. He smells like he's only just come out of heat, and whoever was taking care of him did a very good job of it. He doesn't smell like sex, precisely, but he smells like what Charles would imagine afterglow would, if it had a scent. Golden and lazy and sated.

Oh, he's got blockers on, of course, but Charles has always been blessed (or cursed, depending how you look at it) with a very good nose. So. He knows immediately.

Some too-perceptive instinct is telling him that the timing of this heat has something to do with Daniel's return to racing this weekend. Almost like Max... wanted to get his heat over with before he saw Daniel again?

...That's a big stretch, of course, and Charles would never dare say it out loud. (Except to Pierre, maybe, because Pierre loves theorising about the latest paddock gossip just as much as Charles does.)

So he just smiles politely at Max, and says "Hello" back, and wishes for Pierre to appear out of some corner of the paddock somewhere. It isn't that Charles hates Max, or whatever the media likes to spin, but it's also true that Max isn't Charles' most favourite person in the paddock. (Obviously, that honour goes to Pierre.)

No, Charles' and Max's relationship is simply that of colleagues - good enough, if a little bland.

Which is why Charles is not expecting it at all when Max leans a little closer with something that looks almost like a conspiratorial grin. Charles has no idea what Max might want to be conspiratorial about with him - it's not as though he's leaving Ferrari anytime soon, despite what everyone likes to speculate.

Surprisingly, what Max says to him is not racing or incident-related at all. "Do you know where Pierre is?" he asks, as though Charles is the most reliable source of the Alpine driver's whereabouts. (Charles shouldn't be, but he's very flattered.) "I still need to thank him."

"Thank him?" Charles echoes, a little puzzled. "For what?"

And then Max says the one thing that blows apart Charles' world and turns his day upside-down immediately. "For agreeing to spend my heat with me so last-minute."

He says it so casually, too, and Charles...

Well. Charles knows that many of the other unbonded omegas on the grid like to spend their heats with other drivers. This might seem contradictory at first, but the thing is - while they might not necessarily trust each other on track, you can always rely on the fact that another driver, at least, won't reveal details of that hook-up to the press anymore than you will. Most of the alpha drivers on the current grid are decent enough people off-track that you can trust you'd be taken good care of, too.

It's something that Charles has done himself, too, once or twice - mostly with Alex, who is always incredibly kind about it, and makes sure Charles is comfortable and well-hydrated afterwards.

But mostly, Charles spends his heats alone. He schedules them carefully so they won't interfere with races, and then he bears them on his own, teeth gritted as he works himself open over and over again and clings to whatever article of Pierre's clothing he can find nearby.

It's never good enough, never, but Charles has never really wanted another alpha. He only goes to Alex if his body genuinely cannot go without it anymore, and then it's purely a case of friend helping out a friend.

So, really, Charles has no reason to be this shocked that Max apparently spent his most recent heat with Pierre. The two of them are friends, aren't they? Much better than Charles and Max have ever pretended to be. There's no reason why they wouldn't spend a heat together, really.

Except...

Charles grits his teeth, and it's only years of media training that enables him to still pass it off as a smile. "He did?" he asks, tightly.

Max laughs, still happily unaware that he's taken Charles' day and shattered it like a glass breaking into unrecognisable shards. "Yes," he confirms, and then he bumps Charles' shoulder, almost unbearably conspiratorial again. "You, of course, would know why I now need to thank him."

No amount of media training in the world could have helped Charles keep up his smile in response to that. Max notices - how could he not - and his own smile falls. "You two have not...?" His voice rises up in the end, like he almost can't believe he even has to ask the question.

Charles tastes something sour in his mouth, and by the way Max flinches back, he's sure it must be all over his scent as well, blockers be damned. "No," is all Charles says, brusquely.

Max opens and closes his mouth for a moment, and then he reaches for Charles' shoulder. He hesitates, though, hand hovering awkwardly in the space between them. "I'm sorry," he says, and it sounds sincere. "For assuming. The two of you are so..." He makes a face. "You are good friends, so I thought if he would do it for me, he would of course do it for you too."

"No," Charles says again, and the word tastes acrid in his mouth. "We have never."

Not for lack of trying, Charles thinks bitterly, and then he forces himself to think of something else. Some excuse that Max will accept.

Fortunately, a little gaggle of people in bright Ferrari red are passing by, and Charles latches onto them with almost too much relief. "Ah, my team," he says, pointing. "I need to go."

It's stupidly obvious, as excuses go, but Max has the grace not to mention it. He just watches Charles go, biting his lip.

Charles wants to hate him. He wants to hate him more than anything else - for having a race-winning car, and a team that supports him properly, and championships, but more importantly than any of that, Charles wants to hate him for having Pierre.

It's not that Charles thinks Max is actually in love with Pierre, or even that they're courting. No, it was clearly just a case of friend-helping-out-friend. But even that is...

Unbearable. It is unbearable, because Charles hasn't had even that much.

Charles had only asked once, and only because he'd been stupid with pre-heat already and not thinking straight. Pierre's long, long silence before he'd said, very gently, "Charles... I don't think that's a good idea" had told him all he'd needed to know, anyway.

After that heat, though, Pierre had called Charles and made sure he was okay, and that he knew it wasn't personal, Pierre just didn't think it was a good idea to get that involved with another driver. Especially one who's also a friend.

Charles had accepted it at the time, and he's never had any reason to think that Pierre has changed his mind in any way.

Except now here Pierre is, apparently spending heats with Max fucking Verstappen, of all people. And, really. Out of everyone on the grid - every goddamn omega - it had to be Max, didn't it?

A part of Charles wants to fall to the floor in devastation, wants to tear at his hair and shake and cry to anyone who will listen, why doesn't he want me, why doesn't he want me?

But Charles remains standing, because even more than he's heartbroken, he's furious.

Pierre did not help Max through his heat because they're in love, or because they're courting. So, he must have done it as a favour to a friend.

Then why the hell would he not do the same for Charles?

Charles also asked him as a favour to a friend (and yes, maybe Charles wanted more, but he wasn't stupid enough to ask for that. He'd just asked for a favour, the way every unbonded omega on the goddamned grid asks their alpha friends for favours every once in a while.)

Pierre had said no, and that he doesn't do that. But he'd forgotten to mention the part where he apparently does do that.

If he were here, Charles might slap him clean through the face. It's not an urge he's often had when it comes to Pierre (or ever, really) but today...

Today. It's just. What the hell does Max have that he doesn't? Max and Pierre are friends? Charles and Pierre are better friends. Max is an omega? So is Charles, and he's better at that, too.

It's obviously not even about looks! Because Charles doesn't want to be rude, but he is definitely better-looking than Max. It's just a fact, as true as "the grass is green" or "Charles is Monégasque" or "Charles is in love with Pierre."

No. Fuck that. None of this makes sense.

If Pierre is willing to spend a heat with Max, then there's no reason why he can't help Charles through one, too. It's not like Charles is asking Pierre to love him back - no, he's long since made his peace with the fact that that, at least, is impossible.

Charles has always wanted too much, though, and if he sees even the faintest chance of getting what he wants, even if it is just in the form of a favour to a friend -- well. He will never not go for the gap.

So Charles waits, increasingly impatient, for his media and team obligations to be done for the day. As soon as they are, he heads for Alpine, because there is no way Pierre will have left already - he is far too dedicated to them, staying behind extra hours to learn as many names as he can and give as much feedback as possible and help with everything that needs helping.

Right, because isn't Pierre just so incredibly helpful. Normally, this would make Charles smile, fond - but today, it makes him want to snarl.

Helpful, yes. Except to him, apparently.

No. Charles will not accept that.

Various team members glance up when Charles storms into the Alpine hospitality, freezing with coffees half-way to their lips and tracking him like the spectators to a tennis match as he storms across their building and towards the driver's rooms. One particularly brave soul ventures an "Er..." but Charles is already across the room before he's even finished saying it.

Charles knows the way to Pierre's driver's room as easily as he knows the way to his own (incidentally, it's on the same side of the building) and it's mere seconds later that he's bursting through the door of Pierre's driver's room.

Pierre freezes when the door slams open, mouth caught in a comically surprised expression, but it relaxes quickly into a fond (if still somewhat surprised) smile. "Charlito!" he says, standing up and reaching a hand in Charles' general direction. "This is a nice surprise."

But Charles is not in any mood for pleasantries. "Did you spend a heat with Max," he asks, but it's not really a question as much as it is an accusation, pointed and sharp.

Pierre freezes again, the smile slowly dropping off his face. His scent goes bitter with unpleasant surprise. "I -"

"If you lie to me, I am going to slap you," Charles says, injecting the words with just enough of a snarl that Pierre will know he's not messing around.

Pierre's expression goes from shocked to hurt to angry almost faster than Charles can process. "I wasn't going to lie to you, Charlo. I would never. Not with you."

He sounds sincere enough about it that Charles almost feels guilty, but then Pierre adds, "He's just a friend who needed a favour" and Charles is right back to furious.

"I was a friend, and I needed a favour," Charles says bitingly. He doesn't have to say anything more, because he knows Pierre will understand exactly what he means.

Pierre's face shutters, closing off completely. Even his scent goes blank, like Pierre is deliberately shutting off every part of himself. "That's different."

"How?" Charles hisses at him, and Pierre obviously wasn't expecting the vehemence of it, because he stumbles a step back. "How the hell is it different, huh?"

Pierre's expression does something complicated, and he makes a rough noise, low in the back of his throat. "It just is," he says, and refuses to elaborate.

Charles is livid. "It just is?!" he explodes. "Tell me how it just is, Pierrot, because I sure as fuck don't get it. I am your friend - non, I am your best friend - but when I ask for this favour, you say no. Then when it is Max, you say yes?"

"It's different," Pierre says again, sharply, as though sharpness alone will make Charles drop the subject.

He really doesn't know Charles if he thinks that will work. "It is not different. Not at all. What, unless you are trying to say that you don't want me?"

"Of course I-" Pierre starts, then cuts himself off with a groan, dragging a hand down his face. "I don't want to do this with you, Charles."

"Well, I want to do this with you," Charles retorts, unfazed and as fuming as ever. "What is it, huh, Pierre? You prefer Max over me?"

"Of course not," Pierre says, and he has the audacity to sound almost offended.

"But you must, if you fucked him and not me," Charles snaps. He's not entirely sure what he's trying to accomplish here, but he knows - he knows that he's furious, and Pierre is being a fucking asshole, and he needs Pierre to admit that much. At least.

Pierre, however, seems determined to continue being a stubborn asshole. "It wasn't like that," he insists, and Charles sees red.

"It's exactly like that! I asked you to fuck me, to help me through my heat, and you said no because you do not want me."

And that, somehow, is the last straw.

"Shut up, Charles," Pierre growls - actually growls - at him. "Just, shut up. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I don't?" Charles snaps right back, goading. "Why don't you tell me, then?"

Pierre snarls again, guttural and furious, and Charles knows that he should be terrified. But right now, he's far too furious to care.

"Tell me," Charles goads again, because he knows that nothing will ever compel Pierre as much as a challenge will.

Pierre is breathing hard, his fists clenched, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly. "You think you know what happened with Max, huh?" he asks, and Charles has never heard him sound like that. Despite himself, it sends a thrill through Charles' whole body. "You think you know what I want and don't want?"

Charles lets his belligerent silence do the talking for him, and Pierre's eyes flash. "Well, do you know that none of it is true? Do you know that none of the rumours of me with all those omegas are true?"

"What do you--" Charles begins, but Pierre cuts him off with a single hand held up, raised as sharply as a slap.

"Do you know, Charlito," he says, almost viciously, "that I've never been able to date any other omega for longer than a few months because I was always comparing them to you?"

Charles jolts where he stands, all the breath wrenched from him. "What--"

But Pierre doesn't give him a moment to process that. "Do you know that I only agreed to spend this heat with Max because he was desperate and out of options?"

"Do you know," Pierre continues, dangerously soft, "that I had to think of you just to be able to come at all?" He stalks a single step closer to Charles. "Do you know that I had to pretend it was you all the time just so that my knot wouldn't go down?" Another step, and Charles is shaking all over, but he can't move. Pierre has him pinned down, completely rooted to the spot with his scorching gaze and world-ending words.

"Do you know," Pierre concludes, softest of all, "why I really said I wouldn't spend a heat with you?"

Charles isn't sure how he even manages to form the word. "Why?"

Pierre's eyes are so, so dark as he stops just in front of Charles, raising one hand to ghost just millimetres above Charles' collarbone. "Because," he says, and his voice is rough. "I knew that if I did, Charles, if I fucked you even just once, I wouldn't be able to hold back. I would bite you, then and there, and I would make you mine."

All the while that he's been speaking, Pierre has been tracing his fingers upwards, a slow, slow torturous slide mere centimetres above Charles' skin. Charles can almost feel the heat of his touch, almost but not quite, and when Pierre stops just below Charles' mating gland - Charles whines and shudders forward, the combination of Pierre's hand there and that word mine too much for him to resist.

Pierre's fingers touch the overheated skin of Charles' mating gland, and the world explodes.

Charles' knees buckle, and his head spins, and he has to press his thighs together in a desperate effort to ease the sudden and burning need there. He's wet, he can feel it, leaking slick all over the place just from that one touch.

Pierre jerks his hand back, of course, but even that split-second of contact was enough to destroy Charles perfectly.

Pierre is panting, and he looks about as wrecked as Charles feels. "So do not stand there and tell me that I don't want you, Charles," he says, and his voice shakes - anger or desperation, Charles can't tell. "Not when I have done nothing but want you for as long as I have known how to want."

Charles shudders, the full weight of Pierre's words sinking in on him all at once. As Charles stands there, processing, he watches as the world rearranges itself entirely.

Charles breathes in, and then he breathes out. "Fuck you, Pear," he says, only a little shakily. "No, seriously, fuck you. How obvious do you need me to be? I literally asked you to spend my heat with me!"

For a moment, Pierre looks so indignant that he forgets to be angry. "You asked it as a favour to a friend!" he protests. "I just said, I can't do that! Not if it's you."

"Yeah, well," Charles says waspishly, "I only asked it like that because I thought you would say no otherwise."

And all at once, Pierre's expression transforms as he comes to the same sudden and brilliant realisation Charles just had.

"Charles," he says, shell-shocked. "If you're saying what I think you're saying..."

He glances down at his hands, clenches them tightly into fists again, then looks back up at Charles, his gaze burning. "You have to know, you can't take it back. I'm not going to let you take it back. Not if you mean it."

"God, Pierre, you are so fucking stupid," Charles says, and alright, maybe he is still a little angry about the whole situation, after all. (He thinks he has the right to be, though.) "Why do you think I was so angry that you went for Max?"

When Pierre doesn't say anything immediately, Charles snaps off a sharp step into Pierre's space, flicking his fingers against Pierre's forehead. "Yeah, it's because I wanted you to choose me. Only me."

Pierre's hand comes up, grabbing Charles' wrist in a bruise-tight hold. He draws Charles' hand away from his face, but then he doesn't let go, just keeps holding on, fingers circling Charles' wrist like they're meant to fit there. "Only you?" he echoes, and it sounds like a question.

Charles nods, because there was never any other answer, and he's about to say it, too, but then Pierre kisses the words right off his mouth.

If Charles' world hadn't already exploded so thoroughly earlier, then it would now.

It's a good kiss. No, it's better than a good kiss - it's a fucking incredible kiss; Pierre's one hand still wrapped around Charles' wrist while the other finds its way to his waist, like it belongs there. Pierre kisses him like he's still a little angry, but also like he's never meant anything more, pouring every part of his soul into it. Pierre kisses him like he's already imagining the night they're going to spend together after this, and he kisses Charles like how he's planning to fuck him later.

Charles has no objections to that. None at all.

Well. Except the one.

He pulls away from the kiss, pressing his palm hard to the side of Pierre's face. "You're going to spend my next heat with me," he says, orders more like, and it's far too possessive, but he can't bring himself to care. Not one goddamned bit.

Pierre growls, low in his throat, and pulls Charles even closer to him. "No, chéri," he says, too-softly. "I'm going to spend every single heat with you from now on. Forever."

"Forever," Charles breathes, and then he kisses Pierre again, hard, making it a promise. "Forever."

[found--family]

they couldn't let cesar and jesse return bc they would've taken one look at dean and cas interacting and known they had it bad for each other

[softquietsteadylove]

Hi can you write a full on pregnancy journey between thenamesh and the eternals find out about it as well and gilgamesh is helping thena through giving birth

By all odds, Eternals cannot reproduce. It's not in their physical makeup--they're not organic beings. But there are timelines, and universes, and powers beyond mortality. The Elemental Eternal is proof of that. With her evolution comes exceptions.

She doesn't turn the Illusionist Eternal human, she returns life to the Strongest. And with his renewed life, came an unprecedented circumstance.

The Warrior Eternal became pregnant.

Without Ajak's guidance, they only had so much insight. Phastos performed every scan and test, Druig assessed what he could at the subconscious level, Sprite even tried constructing an early image of the fetus in a sort of ultrasound. Kingo proclaimed to have knowledge from playing a doctor - once - but was denied acknowledgement.

But none of them knew how to bring an immortal life into the world--or if it would, in fact, be immortal at all.

Sersi had brought her sister's dearest love back to life, forsaking even her own loved one. Thena, upon hearing the news of her new role in life, had grasped Sersi's hand. The Alchemist was confused until she saw the tears in her sister's eyes, whispering, "I'm sorry, I know how much you wanted this."

Sersi burst into tears, wrapping her arms around Thena's shoulders. She had always dreamed of transmuting life in its rawest sense. In this way, she somewhat felt that she had.

So, with the family of Eternals with only themselves, they embarked on raising this new form of 'life'.

Sersi was the only one who even remotely knew what to expect. She told what she knew, did further research. Phastos and Makkari concentrated on reading every material the human world - and beyond - had to offer. Druig was quietly attentive, never admitting to concern but always hovering nearby and commenting on if Thena or the budding consciousness she was harbouring desired something.

Gilgamesh was beside himself.

For all the years upon centuries upon millennia he had spent by Thena's side, they had never had to consider this a possibility for them. And while he usually had the typical minutia to worry about - Thena's general well being, health, Mahd Wy'ry - he now had a whole other set of problems.

He was beside her every second, reluctant to so much as look away from her and their child. Everyone told him he was being excessive, including Thena herself. But he refused to leave her again. He promised her as much, anyway. He stayed close, made sure they both knew he was there.

He cooked nutritious meals, made sure they got their rest. He was a little more insistent with his brothers and sisters than they were used to. Either he was asking Phastos and Makkari for what they had read about pregnancy or he was asking Druig how the baby 'felt'.

He asked Sprite for illusion 'ultrasounds' so often that she eventually stopped obliging him, saying that unless Thena asked, she was no longer their ultrasound machine.

Sersi threw herself into tending to Thena, and their child to whom she would be a second mother if anything happened to Thena. Sersi attempted to forbid her from saying such things, but Thena said that she had heard of such practices before, and if it had to be anyone, it could be no one but Sersi.

Phastos had complained that he had an actual child, and that Jack was even fond of Thena (for some reason) and vice versa! Thena said that yes, she was very fond of Jack too. But he and Ben would have their hands full with their human child, no less whatever immortal creature she spawned (her own words).

"Are you sure about this?" she could remember Gilgamesh asking her about halfway through. It was nowhere near the normal number of months for a human gestation, but they had to assume that their advanced cell strength and regeneration was translating into the growth of the baby.

"It is far too late to ask that," she answered, her hands on her stomach, swollen to accommodate their child.

"I mean," he shifted, taking hold of her hand next to the bed she nearly constantly occupied. Although she denied it, she had to all but be on bed rest, supplying the baby with not only her Cosmic Energy but much of her physical energy as well. "We don't have any experience in this--none of us. Are we sure we can get through this?"

Thena looked up at the ceiling, seriously considering the reality of their situation, and the question related. She patted her stomach, a subconscious motion she had taken on in the last two weeks. "Yes."

Gilgamesh chuckled, kissing her hand, "that easy, huh?"

"Hm," she smiled, relishing the small but heavy affection. "It will in no way be easy. But we can do this, is what I'm saying."

He sighed, tilting his head at her, "you'll be doing the hard part. I can be here as much as I can, but there's nothing I can do for the pain of what you'll go through."

None of them had any concept of what it would mean to give birth.

Thena let him moved the back of her hand to his cheek, always cooler to the cheek than his warmer skin. "I have no fear."

"I know you don't," he lamented more than complimented, "but maybe, just this once-"

"Gilgamesh," she said softly, pulling his eyes to hers. Her still and unwavering eyes, "I do not fear this. I will endure anything to bring this being to life."

Gil's eyes watered, "I don't want you to have to."

"Be that as it may," she soothed, moving her palm to his cheek, "I choose to allow this life shelter within me, and I have already decided that it is this life that takes precedence now--over my own, over anything else."

He shook his head, "Thena-"

"I'm sorry."

He blinked through his tears, although Thena's always became glassy.

"I have experienced living without you," she admitted, her throat tight with the difficulty of such words, "no matter how brief. I know that I am asking something unbearable of you."

Gilgamesh buried his burning eyes within the warmth of her palm.

"But the young one comes first, before all else," she insisted. She brushed his tears away and forced his eyes back to hers, "swear to me."

He nodded, unable to say it just yet. To speak such an unthinkable thing was too much for him. He had only just died and come back to life within the same twelve months. And now life threatened to both give him the greatest gift and take away his greatest treasure?

"I will be with you," she promised, rubbing her belly with her free hand again, "in a way."

That was the last they had spoken of the potential worst possibility.

The birth was hard. It took all their resources to keep everyone calm, let alone actually help with the process. Makkari and Sersi did their best, Sprite insisting that she couldn't possibly stomach the reality of what was happening. She could be heard whispering to Kingo the fear that they would lose Thena this time.

Phastos kept an eye on Thena's health, although the actual act of birth had taken more strength from the Warrior Eternal than they ever could have anticipated. All the equipment at their disposal was just barely keeping her conscious as her body prepared to, in a way, deliver its own form of Celestial.

"Thena, come on, just stay with me," Gilgamesh would whisper, his lips always close to her skin, her hair, something. He held her hand, which would have broken with her efforts were it not for his exoskeleton.

She stared upward, delirious from her efforts, her pulse thready and her skin covered in a cold sweat. "When?"

"Almost there, Thena," Sersi promised on her sister's other side, dabbing her flushed skin, "I promise, just a little more."

Makkari waved, it's time!

"Come on, Thena, one more deep breath," Sersi pleaded, squeezing her shoulders as Makkari got into position.

"Almost there," Gil whispered to her, "then you can hold our baby."

Thena's pupils widened. The baby.

A shrill cry broke the air. Breath was held as Makkari held the tiny life, washing it off and wrapping it up as Sersi had told her. There was no 'cord', like Sersi had told her, but she watched as a golden thread of energy dissolved into the air. She tilted her head.

There's no belly button, Makkari shrugged, as if that were all that significant a detail. But other than that, she's beautiful.

Sersi's eyes lit, "she?"

Makkari shrugged again but smiled as she handed the baby over to Sersi first, I guess--looks an awful lot like Thena not to be.

Sersi blinked through her tears; it was true, the little bundle looked like a tiny Thena, even with wisps of the same sun glow hair.

"Sersi," Thena struggled just to lift her arms, "please."

"Here," she whispered, leaning down carefully and depositing the baby into Thena's arms and over her lap. "Look at her, Thena, she's perfect."

"Perfect," Gilgamesh whispered, gazing upon a child of his own. He had always gotten along with human kids, maybe even gotten attached to a select few, like Jack, or Odin's little pup once upon a time. But this--this was entirely different.

"Oh," Thena blinked, her voice unmistakably melted and sweet. She smiled, "she has your eyes."

Indeed, the little one blinked and had massive, warm brown eyes, like the Strongest Eternal himself. She looked up at Thena, and then over at her father, who only dissolved further.

"Hello little one," Gilgamesh whispered, as if even his voice would be too much for his new treasure to bear. He offered his finger to her itty-bitty hand.

She was already capable of a strong grip.

"She incredible," Sersi whispered to her sister, pressing her lips to Thena's hair. "What will you name her?"

Thena gazed at her child.

Makkari and Phastos also looked over amidst the work of making sure Thena was stable and going to fetch the others.

"Olympia has always been home in our minds," Thena spoke gently, "even though there is no such thing. And yet when I say it, I still think of home--the same feeling I get when I think of Australia."

Gilgamesh leaned over, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"There shall be an Olympia," Thena declared, her eyes meeting that of her child, already so wise. "You shall be the meaning of home now, little one."

"Olympia!" Sersi gasped.

Thena looked up at her, "you are crying even more than Gilgamesh."

"So?" Sersi sniffled, barely able to see through her tears at all.

Thena let Gilgamesh take Olympia from her arms, just enough for her to recline in the bed more. "Let them in, they should meet her."

"Oi Sis!--you-"

Gil glared at the doorway, "keep your voice down."

Druig clapped his jaw shut, his teeth clacking loudly.

Kingo chuckled, for once, the most tactful of their chaotic little family. He strode in, Sprite clinging to him nervously. He smiled at Thena, "you made it."

She smiled back at her most opposite but undeniably dear brother. "You did too."

Gilgamesh tilted the bundle in his arms, although he obviously wouldn't be letting anyone else try holding her just yet. "This is Olympia."

Kingo smiled still, as if having anticipated the name that was preinstalled in all their heads. "She's beautiful, you guys."

"Gilgamesh," Thena spoke up from the bed, but he shook his head, already knowing what she was going to ask of him. He turned away, leaning over his bundle of joy. She let out a faint laugh as Kingo made his way to her bedside, "you'll have to hold her later."

He allowed the selfishness, "I think he's earned the right to hog her for a little."

"Oi sis," Druig greeted all the same, although in a whisper as he scurried over to her other wide with Makkari and Sersi. "How you doin'?"

She was still smiling, elated to be on the other side of her trauma, no matter how beautiful. She let her brother pat her shoulder, "I have experienced worse...I think."

Druig snorted, "well, for what it's worth, I've never considered you tougher."

Thena looked over to where Gilgamesh was protectively huddling over Olympia, protecting her from her own Uncles and Aunts. She puffed through her nose faintly, "if you can get close enough, take a look at her. See what she's thinking."

Druig regarded the baby curiously. Even after heading a commune for two hundred years, he had never met a baby quite like this. He waved his hand vaguely in her direction.

Warmth

Makkari rubbed his back as he swiped at his eyes. Different, huh?

He nodded, slinging his arm lazily around her shoulders. They deserve this.

Makkari watched as Gilgamesh returned to Thena's side, still refusing to let Kingo and Phastos so much as tickle Olympia's cheeks. They do.

"Come on," Sprite grumbled, choosing instead to go over to Thena's side instead of crowding the baby and baby holder.

Thena looked at her youngest - most tentative - sister. "So?--what do you think?"

Sprite pursed her lips petulantly. She eyed Olympia, and her crowd of admirers. She tilted her head, "she's prettier than I imagined."

Thena took neither offense nor humour, but smiled. "You can meet her when you're ready."

And she did. Sprite warmed to the little life, just as she did to rejoining Kingo and even the human Karun instead of the isolation of secrecy.

Kingo and Phastos easily became the most eager to dote on their new little Eternal, although Gilgamesh insisted that he be the only apple of her eye. Druig managed to sneak into her good graces, with Thena's help getting past Gilgamesh's defenses.

Gilgamesh still barely leaves her side, even months after her birth. Despite her short gestation, she seems to age according to the Earth's rotation, as far as Phastos can test.

"Ajak would have loved you," Thena whispers down to the child sleeping in her arms. Whenever she lacks sleep, she does this--walks the halls of the Domo with Olympia for comfort. Her grey robes swish around her as she takes a seat in the awakening chamber. "She would still be crying even now, I'm sure."

Olympia sleeps as soundly as her father does. Apparently this is odd for a baby, which Thena doesn't think makes sense; they need sleep, so why would they be unable to achieve it?

Thena looks up at the looming statue of Arishem. "He has done me no kindnesses. If anything, he has cursed me in many ways."

Olympia doesn't mind. She has no awareness of her mother's ailment, and with the presence of their family to help, she will never witness the uglier consequences either.

Thena smiles down at the little one, though, "but I have you. And I will endure any curse for that."

She looks up at Arishem again. "Not that he had any part in that. If anyone game me you, besides your father, it is in fact godmother Sersi."

Olympia remains unbothered.

Thena presses a kiss to her tiny head, growing more white-blonde hair by the day. "You will learn in time. I will make sure you know of Ajak. And that you never know of Ikaris."

She dislikes even uttering his name in her child's presence.

Not that Olympia minds that either.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?"

She smiles as Gilgamesh rounds the corner, his grey robes also swaying in the ambient air of the ship. "I wanted to walk."

He comes over to her, checking on their little sunburst and then her. "Come back to bed. I'll hold her if want to look at her while you fall asleep."

She lays her head against his shoulder, "perfect."

[c00kietin]

[kyouka-supremacy]

%

[navree]

the weird thing about the sarah hess interview (there are a lot of weird things about that interview but if i talked about all of them this would be the length of a phd dissertation) is that, like, if you want us to give some sympathy to aegon and acknowledge the complexities behind him not wanting to rule but wanting it and his relationship with alicent and his siblings and rhaenyra and all that without the audience getting hung up on him being a rapist, don’t write him being a rapist? you are a writer on the show sarah, you’re the one who decides and this was an easily solvable problem

[sysig]

In the fell! Handplates au what do you think gaster would do to protect the boys? If torial or asgore ever tried to hurt/take away or kill them would he finally snap and fight? I’ve always liked the idea that gaster (despite not being royal) is considerably more powerful then asgore or torial due to how versatile and complex skeleton attacks can be plus he is a boss monster who’s old af.

I would love to see fell! Asgore and torial absolutely get their asses handed to them by a protective gaster. Lol can you imagine their shock? (:

(I absolutely adoreeeee your art)

(Thank you! o/♥)

I think Fell!Gaster would still keep the boys as his secret project to start - Honestly, I really like the idea of him following the same basic beats as Classic Handplates Gaster! Constructing the lab, hole-punching his hands, bringing the boys to life and then experimenting on them in secret, now under the pretense of finding "inherent goodness in Monsters" or inducing it, bringing it forward, however he goes about doing that. So if they did find them, it'd at least be a while

But, I also really like the idea of Gaster still being hopelessly devoted to the Dreemurrs! That raising a hand against them would hurt infinitely worse than whatever they have to dish out against him, and that being why he takes their abuse - if he could only save them! If he could only show them a better way! Then they could all finally be happy, one big family! 💕

As for the boys and what Gaster would be willing to do to protect them, I think it would also be similar to what Classic does - put himself between the brothers and danger to the best of his ability. I do think it would be an interesting turn for him to have to choose between protecting them and his pacifism towards other Monsters if the Dreemurrs got ahold of them somehow - the internal conflict of finally having to face his own darkness! Even if he tried to justify it, I think that'd really be the tipping point for him :)

[omarwolaeth]

thinking 'bout how the lads interact with what the bracelets represent, especially in their decks

[mantisgodiveblog]

I was wondering what the reaction would be to the ‘Royal We’ joke!!! I am loving your reactions to Loop. I am more than okay with a character being condescending towards me if I find it funny, so it’s pretty interesting seeing Loop’s first interaction actually having the intended effect… rather than my immediate desire to draw them.

We rarely take well to condescension. It's part of why we choose to take on this persona, rather than something more "casual" - we rarely take kindly to anyone attempting to position themself over us, and this sort of semi-formal syntax both allows us to set ourself up as, at the very least, someone who won't take kindly to being talked down to - in addition to the fact that it lets us at least attempt to illustrate our thoughts in detail. Loop is immediately rubbing our setae the wrong way, and though we're certain they have some redeeming features, we find it difficult to see them at the moment. There's only room for one all-knowing asshole in this room, and that all-knowing asshole is us.

Their design is very cool. It was very fun to draw, despite the difficulty of doing negative-space sharp edges in watercolor. Very unfortunate that the one to bear such a well-designed body should be such a dick. Their personality doesn't live up to the hype. Give off the vibes of the sort of person who would have tried to Help Us by taking the handles of our wheelchair when we were using one. We do not think that we could productively coexist with them in a physical space. We are having difficulty productively coexisting with them in a digital, fake one.

[fuzziemutt]

How are we having "lowest in a decade" unemployment rates yet literally over half of who I know, and even myself, for a very long time literally have been unable to find jobs.

Like. How are these equating because last I checked no motherfucker is hiring out here despite the signs