#romance in the neath

[geraldofallon]

Romance in the Neath: Boneless Consort

What plastic passions are inflamed behind closed doors?

You’ve become better at telling Rubbery Men apart. This one keeps seeking you out. It doesn’t want your Warm Amber. It has other intentions…

Your love does not dare writhe its name in public.

[blindmagdalena]

'Neath the Mistletoe

1k homelander x gn!reader. pure christmas fluff. 🎄inspired by anon. thank you!

When you and Homelander make the decision to go public with your relationship, Vought seizes the opportunity to capitalize on the announcement with a seasonal photoshoot.

There is nothing more quintessentially Christmas than kissing your beloved under the mistletoe. Naturally, Homelander has been anticipating it since the first whispers of the season began to carry on the air.

However, this was not at all how he’d imagined it would happen. He’s been in front of the cameras his entire life, he’s used to it, but you aren’t. You’re tense in his arms, gaze flickering out to the crew, paying more attention to how you’re presenting in front of the camera than you are to him.

It’s hardly the romantic venture he dreamt of.

“Hey,” he whispers, bringing your eyes back to him. You look like a deer in the headlights. He probably looked the same way during his first real photoshoot. Still, he tries to calm you by assuring you, “You’re doing great.”

“How many of these are we going to have to do?” You ask quietly, your tension creeping into your voice.

He frowns. He knows you’re nervous, but it really squeezes out any romance lingering in the moment to think you’re dreading how many more times you’re going to have to kiss each other. If it were just the two of you, it wouldn’t matter. He’d kiss you a dozen times for each mistletoe he saw. A hundred times. He’s got years and years spent without you to make up for.

Huh. Now there’s a thought.

“Hey, let’s take five,” he calls to the crew. Immediately, he feels you relax against him.

“Thank you,” you sigh, squeezing his forearms. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to complain–”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he soothes, already fixated on his brewing plot. He leans in to kiss your forehead and gives your hips a pat. “Lemme go get you some water, ‘kay? We’ll bang out the rest of these photos, and then we can get to bangin’ out in private,” he says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

You laugh, giving him a playful little push, and he seizes the opportunity to split off and not only grab you a water bottle, but to pull Ashley aside for a quick word, whispering it in her ear.

Ashley’s eyes widen. She pulls back sharply to stare incredulously at him. “By the end of the shoot?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, smiling. “And wipe that fuckin’ look off your face before you’re seen,” he says, giving her arm an unfriendly pat that jostles her slightly. She immediately schools her expression, glancing at you. Luckily, you’re busy briefly dissociating while you recover from the flash of cameras and the bustle of the crew and makeup department.

“Right… Yes, sir,” she says, frantically pulling out her phone the second his back is turned.

Homelander returns to you with a crisp bottle of water and kisses your cheek reassuringly. “Almost done,” he promises you, rubbing your back. “And then I’ve got a treat for you back at my place.”

Your eyes narrow suspiciously as you drink. “Is it something to do with ‘bangin’ out’?”

“More like rockin’ around,” he says, breaking into a cheeky grin while the two of you move back into position.

Just shy of an hour later, the shoot has finally wrapped up–no thanks to Ashley’s thinly veiled stalling–and Homelander is eagerly guiding you back to his penthouse, your hand held firmly in his. Pausing at the door, he peers through it, ensuring everything looks right before he opens it.

Glancing down at you, he steps to the side as he swings the door open, gesturing you inside. “After you.”

That way, he has the perfect vantage to admire your shock as you’re blindsided by the sight of dozens upon dozens upon dozens of sprigs of mistletoe hanging from every doorway, light fixture and arch in his entire penthouse.

“Did you somehow not get enough kisses on set?” You ask playfully, reaching up to bat lightly at one of the hanging mistletoe. They’ve all been secured in place with some kind of clear tacky little bits of paste.

“Not familiar with this concept of ‘enough kisses,’ “ he says, miming quotation marks before dropping his hands to his hips, admiring the work he put into demanding this be done. They did a decent job, all things considered.

You turn around to face him, beaming as brightly as any shining star.

God, you look… beautiful. Backlit by the glittering Christmas lights decorating his penthouse–the cast of them warm on your skin–you give him a melancholic sense of nostalgia for something he’s yearned for his entire life, but never known. You look cut straight out of every Hallmark moment he’s ever dreamed of. You look the way Christmas does in the movies. You look like home.

He can’t stop himself from kissing you, your face cradled delicately in the warm, soft leather of his gloves. He strokes your cheek with his thumb, slipping his hand to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. He leans into you the way he wanted to throughout the entirety of that goddamn photoshoot, taking so much more now than those chaste little kisses. They had only served to whet his appetite for you.

You sigh against his lips in a way that drives him insane with hunger, pushing your hands into his perfectly styled hair, thoroughly mussing it. He pushes further into you, forces your back to bow until he’s snaking his arm around your waist and becoming the only thing holding you up as he dips you in this fervent, aching kiss.

When he does finally relent and draw back, you suck in a breath, your cheeks flushed warmly, your eyes bright and glimmering in the twinkling lights that surround you both.

“God,” you exhale, licking your lips. “Now that was a kiss under the mistletoe.”

Homelander glances up at the mistletoe dangling above you, and then back down. His smile is equal parts warm and wicked. “One of many to come.”

“I don’t think my lips are going to survive it,” you say, but your eyes betray your excitement.

“Don’t worry,” he purrs. You give a giddy little yelp as he effortlessly lifts you up into his arms, settling you against his chest. He kisses you again and again, one for each mistletoe you pass on the way to his bedroom.  “These lips aren't the only part of you getting thoroughly kissed tonight.”

He made sure there was extra mistletoe above the bed.

[asleepinawell]

sorry if this seems a bit out of the blue, but ever since youve been posting about fallen london, im a bit curious about it! What is the game about and where can I get it?

oh no worries! I'm happy to ramble about it

fallen london is a free to play browser game you can find here. the basic premise is that sometime in the 1800's the entire city of london is engulfed in a swarm of bats and then falls through the earth into a cavern a mile below. this is the neath, a huge underground cavern where london sits on the shore of a vast ocean. queen victoria is still around locked in her palace being a typical shitty british monarch, who, amongst other things, decided that 1900 was cancelled and we were just going to have 1899 for a second time

things are a little...different down there. humans are far from the only ones running around. there's devils, rubbery men (think mind flayer vibes), clay men, and the shadowy cloaked figures running the bazaar (and the city) called the masters. death mostly isn't permanent and the dream world is a little too real. also, most importantly, cats can talk! and there are tons of them! and tigers too

it's got victorian, gothic horror, dark humor, lovecraftian vibes. also it's extremely queer as is everything the dev, failbetter games, makes. something I especially appreciate is that you don't have to give your character any particular gender (though you can) and some of the little avatars are very gender neutral:

since it's free to play it comes with the normal things that type of game has such as real money transactions (completely optional and unnecessary for enjoyment (though some of the bonus side stories you can buy are extremely cool)), limited number of actions you can take (max of 20 at a time and refills 1 per 10 minutes). it is definitely grindy too though there's so many things to do (cannot emphasize the insane amount of content enough) I will usually just switch things up every so often

it's single player for the most part but you can ask friends to assist you in certain actions and there are some specific items that can be sent to other players

(if you like the setting but not the free to play part you can check out mask of the rose which is a visual novel they just released set right after london fell. it's a romance but with full aro and ace options (which I actually preferred) and a murder mystery. that one is a normal just buy the whole game deal and I think it's on most platforms. there's also sunless seas and sunless skies which take place in the same world but are a very different type of game and would require their own post. all of these have great writing in them)

but back to fallen london. it works based off of 'storylets', or little short stories when you usually do a skill check to accomplish something in return for advancing the story, levelling your skills, and reward items. you unlock more and more things as you go and get access to new stories and areas. here's an example of one of the little activities and its resolution

since it's a game designed to be able to play endlessly there isn't really a way to lose or game over. you can die but dying is just a minigame of its own and sometimes even a thing to do purposefully. (the only actual way to die is the notorious story called seeking mr eaten's name which you may have seen me post about, which is a very unique story that will permanently erase your character at the end. why you'd ever want to do that would also be its own post. it's pretty hard to stumble on accidentally I think and extremely well-marked as a thing with severe consequences that you probably shouldn't do. or should you...)

anyway I'd definitely recommend giving fallen london a try if you're interested in the premise and aesthetic

[jane-d-ankh-veos]

I'm so happy to have the Arcane Academic background in MotR:

– naturally attuned to the mysteries of the Neath (and I'm such a fan of this trope whenever I see it... rediscovering kinship with local weirdness in Pathologic, sensing the town in Disco Elysium... it's much subtler here, but still feels like Fallen London-verse's dark wonders reach out directly to you, and you to them)

– bonding with friends/sweethearts through discussions of their fascinating cultures' mythology and their faiths' esoteric nuances (I was going to joke about my strange nerdy ways of flirting, but seriously, on second thought, finding shared interests in deeply personal topics actually significantly strengthens relationships)

– bookworm and total geek (shown not as a stereotypical/boring/bad thing, thankfully, and even giving this cute advantage in sapphic romance)

[viric-dreams]

Rubbery Romance in the Neath?

[+12 Outlandish Copy]

It took The Rubbery Barber Surgeon an exceptionally tense evening to convince Darcy that his intentions with the Surgeoness were purely romantic and that he had no plans whatsoever to poach his assistant.

(thanks @waterlogged-detective for letting me run with this and your adorable character)

[mizgnomer]

Behind the Scenes of Day of the Doctor (Part 15)

Excerpt from the BBC Media Centre interview with Joanna Page

What’s it like being part of the 50th, one of the biggest years on the show?

It’s amazing being part of the 50th anniversary. I just remember getting an email asking if I’d play Queen Elizabeth I, which in itself I couldn’t believe because she’s so iconic, even in the history of Doctor Who. I’ve always wanted to be in Doctor Who and now to be in it and playing Queen Elizabeth I is absolutely fantastic, so exciting.

What was it like working Matt, David, Billie and Jenna?

It was quite scary working with Matt, David, Billie and Jenna because they’re iconic and they’re these major characters that I’ve watched and are part of Doctor Who history. It’s really funny acting with them because you look at them and they’re almost like cartoon characters because you see them so much and you’ve watched them and you believe them. It’s just been fascinating and working with the two Doctors is brilliant because it’s the same character, but seeing how the two boys just play them completely differently and how they work off each other, it’s really funny. After reading the script and then hearing it all in the read-through, it just all came to life and I thought, ‘Wow this is going to be fantastic’.

There’s a little bit of romance between Queen Elizabeth and the Tenth Doctor. What was is it like filming those scenes?

Filming the romantic scenes were quite difficult because my first day was on top of a mountain in Neath. It was absolutely freezing, it was blowing a gale and David, the Tenth Doctor and I, are having a picnic. So I’m lying across him and he probably couldn’t breathe, because I’ve just got this massive costume on, and he’s feeding me grapes as I’m just desperately shivering. You’ve got to try and play it romantic and relaxed, when actually you’re freezing cold. I think our lips were turning blue and I stopped feeling my hands. The next day, because it had been so cold with the wind my hands were bright red and all blistered because they were so chapped. So everyone is probably jealous, thinking she gets to kiss the Tenth Doctor and it’s all romantic, but it’s not; my lips were numb and my hands were chapped.

Link to [part one] of The Day of the Doctor behind-the-scenes posts, or click the #whoBtsDotd tag, or the full episode list [ here ]

[nevadas-night-time-novelist]

I’d ask for more stuff for the reader with the employers (other than Audi) but rrrrrfgg. So little content of them

I feel you Anon, but that's cuz there's jack shit info on them. This got longer than intended and tumblr wont let me save anymore to this post, so I'll make another post with Conductor and Deliberator! :]

Stygian x reader

CW: Talks of death/decay

STYGIAN

Arguably the oldest of the four widely known employers, for as long as life has existed, so too has death. Black wisps of smoke curled around his skeletal form, flowing down without pattern or consistency. His few visible features deep set in his face, from his dull pink eyes, to his cheekbones protruding prominently.

His paper thin skin seemed to barely sit on the pink toned bones, looking as if any movement would tear it away, it was something you'd wondered about often when thinking of him.

"Worm." His voice was hollow, a soulless husky rasp with a hint of airiness to it. That was how he referred to everyone he deemed below him, which was everything but his kin.

Being called upon to aid in his work was exciting, yet a heavy burden. Plenty of dead souls passed this realm, and you were part of an exclusive team of judges, dictating where each S-3LF should go. To be reborn, to be banished to purgatory, sentenced to hell, or perhaps the worst fate you'd come to learn of, to be torn asunder into nothing, scattered across the cosmic void.

Sure, purgatory and hell weren't pleasant places, but arguably seemed kinder fates that simply becoming completely undone, as though one had never existed at all...

He snapped his fingers, and you were alone in his office. "Sit." His voice was cold and commanding, yet it always had that tone. Reading him was difficult, always a frigid reception, emotionless to the fullest extent. You obeyed without a word, the chair uncomfortable and worn, unlike the one behind his desk, which was new, plush, and looked a whole lot more comfortable.

His gaunt figure passed by, and a hint of ash mixed with embalming fluids flooded your nose, still incredibly potent despite how often the smell filled your office space.

Narrow hip bones lay neath the skirt of his black floor length toga, a belt of tiny animal skulls rested around his waist. "You are being far too kind to these pathetic bugs. You have yet to submit souls to be cast into The Nothing. Weakness like this shall not be taken lightly."

"I'm sorry, sir." His eyes narrowed.

"These are unworthy beings deserving of erasure, if you can't comply, you'll find yourself joining them into obscurity."

"I'll do better, sir. I vow it."

"As is expected. You are meant to make my job easier. Remember, you are replaceable."

"Understood, sir."

You were suddenly back in your office, leaving Stygian alone in his. He sat at his desk, gritting his teeth. Yes, this little worm was weak, below him, so why couldn't he get you off his mind?

Too kind for their own good, even when he insulted them, berated and tore them apart, they were ever-so polite and always replied formally. His smoke curled around his head, growing thicker as his annoyance grew, filling the room with a black and pink haze.

He was the beast of death, reeling in souls and fixing the afterlife for all, and love and romance weren't really his deal. He was utterly blind to this, doubly so because it was mere mortal that caught his fancy.

He snapped his fingers, and at once a younger fellow Employer appeared in the chair ahead of him. "You really need to stop doing that. I was busy." Dreamer sighed and looked at Stygian. "Why did you call on me, brother?"

Stygian sighed, like a wind blowing through bones. "A mortal being plagues my mind. You deal with these things regularly, what do you propose is wrong with me?"

Dreamer twirled her star earring. "Depends, what thoughts are you thinking?"

"They infest my mind like maggots, writhing in my skin and burrowing deeper. Their face haunts my mind, a ghost trapped in my skull. Tell me Dreamer, tell me, what is wrong?"

Summoning a tea cup, Dreamer sipped thoughtfully. "You're in love."

"What?"

She giggled and rolled her eyes. "This mortal, whoever they are, you're in love with them. Indulge in it, or don't. Do what thou will, tis what thy's best at. But if you do intent to pursue them, do change out of your deathly rags, okay Steeg?" She clapped her hands, and was gone.

In love? HIM? Bullshit, Dreamer was in her own world again. No. He wasn't in love. He needed to kill you, to break you from his mind entirely, to make you cease to exist, to-

A stack of documents landed in his tray, and he groaned, taking the top one off. His eyes instantly went to the bottom, your signature freshly inked. "Perhaps the purple one has a point." He slumped in his chair slightly, casting the paper aside. Auditor could file them himself, he enjoyed that stuff anyway.

Stygian got up, melting into the floor, appearing back in his private quarters. Heading to his wardrobe, he cracked it open, seeing nothing more than old suits, funeral attire, and worn out reaper robes. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, of course his clothing was useless, he rarely took care of his physical form.

He's living death for Maker's sake, why is he fussing about this?!

"Your thoughts are disrupting my flow." Connie was sitting in a chair in Stygian's bedroom.

"Tis a shame we cannot all have coherent thoughts, Conductor." Stygian scowled angrily. "Precisely what are you intending to achieve here?"

Conductor let out a melodic chuckle, his voice smooth like a fine tuned instrument. "You're not yourself. You're... Bothered. And I don't mean your usual gloom filled irritated self." He rested his head on a fist. "And since when do you change your attire but once a century?"

Stygian gritted his sharp teeth. "Well. Fine. Dreamer may have placed..... Strange thoughts in my mind, about... 'Love.' With some mortal of all things." He threw an old suit on the floor. "And that my clothes are RAGS!"

Connie straightened his tie. "She.. Has a point on that second thing." He pulled his baton, twirling it around in his hands, a blue light shooting out and wrapping itself around Stygian, and instantly tall, dark, and depressing was in a new, freshly pressed three piece suit with a pink tie to match his eyes. "Much better."

Stygian tapped his tie, and a skull lapel pin appeared on it.

Again Conductor swirled his baton, and a fat bouquet of white lilies mixed with blood red roses appeared in Stygian's arms. "Mortals are finicky, they enjoy things like that. Now go and demand they accept your offer."

You were seated at your desk still, condemning another old soul to the void. This one had lived so many lives, so many wicked lived. Dissolving them would be a blessing to the world... That was rather cruel, unlike your usual thoughts. Strange...

"Ahem." You spun in your chair, seeing Stygian in a full suit, his misty 'hair' flowing down, streaks of pink inside inky black. "You will attend a restaurant with me tonight. We need to discuss what happened earlier in greater depth."

Stygian wasn't asking, he was commanding. "Y-yes sir." You found yourself questioning his motives, he never spent time with anyone besides his brothers and sister.

His eyes narrowed, reading you back. "Here." He grunted, thrusting his arm out, shoving the bouquet into your face. "I've been informed that your kind... enjoys such gestures."

"What.. is this?" You looked up from your roses and lilies, and spotted soft pink flushing his cheeks, his eyes averted. "Sir?"

"Just get ready." Stygian snapped his fingers, a body hugging lacy black dress, with rhinestones and intricate little patterns embroidered on, and a classy all black suit, equally bejewelled with lace gloves both appeared on your desk. "Hopefully either of those should be to your liking."

You picked out one of the garments and rushed off to the staff toilets, heart racing and hands shaking. This wasn't happening, right? In a second, Stygian's hand would slam on your desk, and he'd bark at you to wake up. Surely he hadn't picked up on your slight attraction to him, right?

It was cringe-worthy, the living embodiment of death making your stomach butterflies flutter wildly. His cold demeanour, his harsh attitude, the puppy-love feeling of him softening these traits for you, it was all a fantasy, right?

Dressing up, you stepped out, and nearly collided with Stygian, who was lingering outside. "You... look nice." He grumbled, covering his mouth. "I figured you could perhaps enhance your appearance further with this."

He held out a box, opening it to show off a beautiful necklace with pink gemstones encrusted in rose gold metal. "A-are you sure about this sir? This doesn't seem like you."

Stygian looked at you finally, smoke swirling around his skull, twirling around your face as he stepped closer. "Don't think I haven't picked up on your signals, mortal. I can hear the way your heart races when you're close to me, I feel the lingering stares that could almost imprint in my form. I've ignored it and pushed it down for as long as I could, mistaking my own affections for resentment.

You wish to entangle yourself with death? Then prove to me you're worthy of it." Your hands grasped his cheeks, passing through his misty form and grabbing a hold of the black bone beneath, pulling it towards your face, feeling his teeth against your lips.

His flames were cool, but his bones were warm, pleasantly heating your hands as you held him, one of his skeletal hands covered yours, the other pulling you closer by your hips.

A lightheaded feeling washed over you, you started to collapse in his arms, but he was quick to support you. As he pulled back, you noticed a white mist flowing from between his teeth.

"Quite literally stealing your breath away." Resting in his arms a moment, his hand rubbed your back to comfort you, the other cradling your head against his chest. "To be in love with a mortal... To my kin it's unheard of. But you're different. You always have been. You vex me, but I crave it."

He slipped the necklace around your neck, and you looked up from the comfort of his skeletal form to his pink eyes. "Does this mean you're not firing me at dinner tonight?" You joked and he closed his eyes and sighed.

"Of course not. How dare you expect me to let such a good thing go."

[nerdyadoptee]

Mask of the Rose: The NerdyAdoptee Review

PUBLISH DATE: June 8, 2023 PLATFORMS: Windows, macOS, SteamOS, Linux, Nintendo Switch (launch); PS4, PS5, Xbox One, Xbox Series X/S (unspecified later, post-launch)

This is the game I've been waiting for.

Mask of the Rose is a visual novel from UK-based Failbetter Games, developers of Sunless Skies, Sunless Sea, and Fallen London. I've long followed Failbetter's work because of their commitment to worldbuilding. All of their games share a common universe, an alternate Victorian vision of the 19th century world, with generous helpings of the unexplained, the supernatural, and even dashes of Cthulhu-esque cosmic horror. London has sunk underground, and the residents of London have lost contact with the surface. In this dark world (nicknamed "the Neath"), we encounter things that are familiar (the Queen is still around, although she's become curiously reclusive) along with the less familiar (what exactly are the "Clay Men?").

This world has been built by Failbetter over three games and thirteen years, but Mask of the Rose doesn’t require any previous knowledge or experience with their games. A character creator allows you to choose your character's background, silhouetted portrait, and how others address your character, from "Captain" to "My Lady" to "Citizen." In addition to the gender inclusivity of the character creator, it's wonderful to see Failbetter give the player the option to specify the kind of romance they're looking for in this visual novel. You can pursue friendships only, seek romantic relationships, physical relationships, or both--and choosing any of those options doesn't prevent you from seeing certain endings or lore, it just gives the player agency in this quite personal choice.

From there, we're introduced to the world and its wide and diverse cast of characters. Going into almost any detail risks ruining the discovery that is such a beautiful part of Mask of the Rose, but I'll at least say that the characters in Mask of the Rose feel complex and unique, each with their own voice and desires. The gameplay loop revolves around choosing how to spend your time--like with other time-management-style games, you can't have conversations with everyone. In each conversation, you're making dialogue choices that have an impact on the people you speak with and on the character you're building over time. The choices are well-written, and show an insight into the complexity of conversation and tone that is often missing from less thoughtful visual novels.

Each day in Mask of the Rose is split up into a Morning and Afternoon time, adding weight and stakes to each playthrough: do I try to get the exhausted pastor to spend more time with a mutual friend, or do I cozy up to the streetwise merchant who seems to know what's going on behind the scenes? More importantly, WHOM DO I WANT TO SMOOCH?

Ahem. Excuse me.

Mask of the Rose has so much story to uncover that one playthrough isn't sufficient. You're trying to solve a mystery, you're trying to uncover more about London's peculiar new surroundings, and you're trying to matchmake your friends, and you might be looking for romance for yourself. A playthrough generally takes me about 3-4 hours, and although I've done multiple playthroughs, there's still more to discover. I'm excited to learn more about each one of the fascinating characters, and I'm further drawn in because Mask of the Rose weaves a tale that touches upon so many elements of 19th century English society, from British global imperialism and colonialism to class struggles and privilege.

While I love the writing and Mask of the Rose's visual novel gameplay (and unique "storycrafting" mechanic/minigame, which is another gameplay pillar), I did run into a few frustrations. I would've appreciated an option to fast-forward text I've already seen. Mask of the Rose helpfully provides a fast-forward option, but it's too easy to accidentally skip past new dialogue and lore. In a game that demands multiple playthroughs, a smarter fast-forwarding option is a really unfortunate omission. I also felt like the time management aspect felt very constraining; it could be my own lack of intuition and understanding, but I sometimes found progression dense or unforgiving. The subtlety of Mask of the Rose is a strength, so I’d love if hints or some kind of help could be an option that players choose to turn on. More days and levels of signposting to clues would go a long way to making me even more excited about future playthroughs.

Overall, I'm smitten by Mask of the Rose. It's the game I've been waiting for because I've wanted to explore this world for a long time, but have struggled with the gameplay and difficulty of Sunless Sea and Sunless Skies. If you share a love for evocative writing and thoughtful worldbuilding, you've got to get Mask of the Rose.

Be sure to tell me whom you smooch!

[yingying-57]

🎶Well it's a marvellous night for a moondance

With the stars up above in your eyes

A fantabulous night to make romance

'Neath the cover of October skies 🎶

For the GoChi Fall event on Twiiter. Day 3: Full moon 🌕✨

Used this pose as a reference:

[neathyingenue]

It's about time that I did a character intro/backstory dump for my FL OC! Here we gooo

///

Name: Silvia Salcedo (she/they)

Also known as: The Radical Sonneteer

Titles: Citizen, Ms, Comrade

Ambition: Heart's Desire

///

Timeline!

1879

Silvia is born in British Honduras (modern-day Belize, the Yucatec Peninsula) to Roberto Salcedo, a cis British Honduran, and Silas Owens, a trans Welshman.

1880

Moves with Silas and Roberto to western England.

While Silvia is her dads' biological child, the 'official' story is Roberto's daughter by a wife who died.

Silas and Roberto set up a law practice in their country village.

1881-1893ish

Silvia is educated at home. She speaks Spanish and English at home, and learns Welsh and Latin as well.

Somewhere in her childhood, Silvia learns that her dads are a couple and the truth about who she is.

She's taught vaguely that ‘British Empire bad,’ but her dads try as hard as possible to shield her from their colonial trauma.

1893ish-1897

Silvia goes to a girl’s boarding school--one of those progressive, Arts-and-Crafts movement types, probably

Figures out she's a lesbian! Classic girls' school antics!

1897-1900

Silvia attends Oxford (probably as a non-degree-seeking student) and does well.

The ‘Scramble for Africa’ is in the news, which sort of re-radicalizes Silvia and her parents.

Now that they’ve given Silvia a good life and an education, Silas and Roberto decide to get more active in protesting and take more risks with political action.

Silvia also gets politically involved with other students.

She starts hearing rumors about Fallen London, people coming back to life, free love…

1901

In a protest-gone-wrong in Cardiff, a constable kills Silas. The autopsy discovers that Silas is biologically female

Desperate to preserve Silas’s dignity in death, Roberto and Silvia spend all their money and then some to hush it up and give him a funeral.

Burdened by debt, a criminal record, and even more of a desire for independence, Roberto flees back to British Honduras. He begs Silvia to go with him.

Silvia instead moves to London because she’s heard of miraculous things happening there, perhaps even the dead coming back to life!

1899 (the second one)

Silvia arrives in London

Arrested for…yelling at cops probably

Starts Ambition: Heart’s Desire in hopes that she can bring back her dad (although she won't admit it to herself)

Publishes poems. Falls in with Revolutionaries. Tries to call herself “The Revolution’s Sappho” but one publication calls her “The Radical Sonneteer” and that’s what sticks.

Meets Ginny (urchin) and Mothball (urchin's cat), which further ties her to the Neath. Keeps putting off the decision of whether or not she’ll go back to British Honduras instead.

The Starved Invasion happens. Silvia dies. It's a rude awakening, a reminder that she's not on vacation--she is in a dangerous place with dangerous goals.

Now that she’s died, the decision of whether to return was sort of made for her. But she hears about Cider—resolves that she’ll just do that AND the Marvellous, no problem!

Starts to swing wildly between “I can’t have any fun I must WORK” and “We have fun here!” Takes fighting and pickpocketing seriously, then fucks off to Mahogany Hall to do cross-dressing with her cousin Winslow, who's just arrived!

Starts a liaison with Lady [redacted], a socialite. She's terrified that it makes her a class traitor and tries to keep it secret. Their romance is brief but electric, full of many fights and trying to get the other to betray their cause.

Goes on her first serious scientific voyage, which keeps her out of London for a couple of months. When she returns, she's sent to the Tomb-Colonies.

Learns more of the Third City, discovers it was Yucatec Maya--the same Indigenous population that her father is descended from. Realizes that there are still Yucatec Maya people in the Neath, and perhaps instead of seeking home rule on the Surface like Roberto, it would be more valuable to seek the remnants of the Third City in the Neath.

Devotes herself to her studies, learning the language and numerical system of the Yucatec Maya, spending more and more time in her laboratory, and gaining entrance to Parabola.

In this process, Silvia drifts further from her old Revolutionary contacts, and begins to question whether the Liberation of the Night is her priority.

[geraldofallon]

Romance in the Neath: Jovial Contrarian

What would one call that look? Sparkling? Gleaming? Aglow? Perhaps his heart warms at the thought of someone almost as argumentative as himself.

Master Yourself.

The man wheels his chair next to you. “We’ve been circling each other for a while now,” he says, his breath fogging in the chill air. “Don’t you agree?”

Erstwhile Mayor and longtime irritant, the Contrarian is happy for your paths to cross every now and then, and for you to see (and upset) the world together.

[env0writes]

Idle Steps 3.4.24 “Ancient Aegon Is Gone"

Once a year in the Kingdom of Aegon Every partner does dress up and try on– The clothes of their mate As they go on a date And they let their bygones be bygone For the rest of the year in this far land Follows a regiment schedule as planned The lovers do love in the prairie Although the biomes are many and vary Not a bit of their romance has been banned For the Kingdom of Aegon is magic Not a day or a night spent is tragic From the sands of its shore ‘Neath the boards in its floor Sails their sorrows across oceanic For Aegon’s fantastical ruler Is quite the miraculous dueler With dextrous hand and grit Weaving fibrous knit Fitting their people in place like a jeweler What a miraculous place of this Aegon Where the sun always seemingly shon In the midst of nights eve Grant their worries little reprieve For their silliest whimsy day gone

@env0writes C.Buck   Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artist!   Photo by @env0

[thedeafprophet]

Gonna go back to the romance charts at some point and collect how many of our ocs are super high on the kinky scale

But truly, I feel like it's hard to go through everything in the neath without developing some new kinks 🤔

[mariahjade2]

Luke and Mara Moondance. (Van Morrison)

Well, it's a marvelous night for a Moondance

With the stars up above in your eyes

A fantabulous night to make romance

'Neath the cover of October skies

And all the leaves on the trees are falling

To the sound of the breezes that blow

And I'm trying to please to the calling

Of your heart-strings that play soft and low

And all the night's magic seems to whisper and hush

And all the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush

[Chorus:]

Can I just have one a' more Moondance with you, my love

Can I just make some more romance with a-you, my love

Well, I wanna make love to you tonight

I can't wait 'til the morning has come

And I know that the time is just right

And straight into my arms you will run

And when you come my heart will be waiting

To make sure that you're never alone

There and then all my dreams will come true, dear

There and then I will make you my own

And every time I touch you, you just tremble inside

And I know how much you want me that you can't hide

Can I just have one a' more Moondance with you, my love

Can I just make some more romance with a-you, my love

One more Moondance with you in the moonlight

On a magic night

La, la, la, la in the moonlight

On a magic night

Can't I just have one more dance with you my love

[rhiwdiliel-bsd-edition]

Camellias

An AU, where Soukoku has lived countless lives, in every one of them meeting the other.

Or, a work where I combine canon symbolism of camelias, reincarnation of soulmates trope, and a general adoration for Soukoku's suffering

19th of October, 1906

There came certain times when it seemed a strange aesthetic of gloom fell over humanity’s towns, painting them in the quiet depression, robbing them from the gentle hands of a coloured world. The flickering gaslights yellowed the grey of cracked, worn cobblestones, ones that beheld a history and memory further than that of any mortal. Their every chink, fissure and gap lamented the tragedy of the ichor that had seeped into their rifts, never to fade away till the world was changed. They lamented, and yet also they sung songs of past romance, where the tears of scarlet camelia petals had lodged themselves within the grit, ever to be stepped on by every passerby, as though it had not once burned with flames blessed with a divine intensity.

A dark, leather shoe’s heel stepped across these fragments of archaic history, ignorant of the earth it walked upon. It came to a halt beneath one of those aforementioned gaslights, peering up into its moth clouded glow. The thin wings in their flocks seemed to miraculously block out the brightness, dancing their last, graceful brush against their inevitable death. Why were they ever attracted to the fatal flames, when they only brought them an immeasurable agony? Why did they remain basking in that torment till the curse of life left them to drop uselessly to the ground?

Perhaps they suffered a philosophy not unlike that which Dazai bore, that it was more desirable to experience a worldly pleasure and have it end in despair rather than to let oneself hollow into naught more but a shell of one’s past self. It was for this worldly pleasure that he had walked on history’s veins, and it came bearing fire upon its head, adorned in a casing that made it reminiscent of the gaslight.

As Dazai approached the flame, the darkness of his shadow fell upon it, as though he really was but a moth in the face of such an attraction. He leant forward, and caught a flicker of heat upon his cigarette from the other’s, braving a proximity none dared to tread, for often did they end up amidst the moths’ broken corpses. Yet no harm fell upon him despite his daring, and he moved back, a smile caressing the cigarette between his chapped lips.

“Don’t you own a lighter, dear Detective?” The words were naught more than a low whisper, echoing in the cold stillness of the haunted street, seemingly emptied by the presence of Chuuya alone. Only the aged bloodstains, torn, dry petals, dying moths and Dazai remained. “Oh, but isn’t it so much more fun to do this? Just because I can?” His reply was equally as quiet, almost enchantingly hinted with a childish happiness. Chuuya’s gaze seemed to be foreign to this environment, bearing a blue found within the splashing waves of the sea. It was thoughtful, and his features of an equal nature were disfigured with wisps of smoke. “No, because one of these days, Detective, you’re going to miscalculate, and you’re going to pay the rather costly price in full.”

“No, I won’t. My suffering pains you, Boss.” The last word on Dazai’s tongue was a stretched, mocking drawl of a title he did not bear obligation to use, but often wished to employ it for his own amusement. How painfully entertaining, to speak such a word to one’s mortal enemy, to watch how their eyes darkened, and that scoff without laughter left their lips. “Maybe in another life, Detective.”

“Don’t be so certain, Chuuya. It’s possible that we have lived many lives, and all of them have ended with our union.”

19th of October, 1625

That cobblestone street of history seemed ever to have snaked its way across that street, which slept as though neath a blissful spell. From such a spell only two had escaped, dashing about with only the illumination of lightening crackling across the sky. It seemed that with every deafening clap of thunder, there followed that terrible, bright flash, revealing only a solitude from which there was no saviour save one another. The air hung in a cold stillness, and it seemed as though the sky itself held its breath for the two below, peeking through the near invisible sifts within the dark masses holding it hostage.

The pattering of running boots echoed through the silence, followed by two sets of gasping breaths. Still, they remained alone, without the danger of company, even as they trod across the memories of camellia petals, tainting the ground with drops of their maroon blood, shining almost black at the mercy of the heavens. It seeped within the cobblestone cracks, deep to the remnants of a past they had once known.

“Chuuya, I-I can’t, we have to be safe now, I can’t--” The words were gasps more so than they were syllables, and were followed by the dull thud of knees striking the ground, unable to support themselves and the weight upon them any longer. More of that precious lifeblood stained about them, as though marking fate’s random footsteps. There came a heavy pause, one of great hesitance, worry seeming to pierce the fog about them, before another such dull thud followed, this one considerably quieter and more controlled, and a bleeding hand reached out to caress a cold cheek.

“It’s alright, Dazai, we’ll… We’ll rest now. Everything’s going to be alright. We can rest here, they won’t find us.” False reassurances spoken from a throat that had only just reached maturity, formed by lips that had never before known even a dryness, let alone an injury. Though the youthfulness of Chuuya’s features was darker now, it seemed that as Dazai shifted forward to collapse into a breaking embrace, they returned to the age they ought to have been at, revealing the true nature of the lovers upon stone, of two youths who had experienced the fear of a soldier in war, and likewise such injury, who now sat upon the town’s essence, silently begging it for a relief they would not soon know.

“I’m... I’m so tired, Chuuya... I just... I wish, I wish things were like they were supposed to be.” Dazai’s exhausted voice was muffled against the stained fabric of Chuuya’s dress shirt, one that spoke of a peaceful, domestic night that had dwelt upon them in its kindness before any sort of horrors came to pass, before any blade or cruelty of human hand had forced itself upon them, before any such hurt had taken their blood and poured it upon the cobblestones, as though it were decorating the grey with the colour of life.

The sky released its bated breath with the relief of tears now, knowing they had lodged themselves in a temporary pocket of safety, away from life and its countless threats. It seemed each word of Chuuya’s response was punctuated by a splatter of a raindrop upon the ground, which pushed the blood to mix with the grit, till it was the ichor that was fated to remain for centuries onwards.

“I know, Dazai. Maybe in another life, we’re happier, and we have nothing to worry about. Maybe in another life, the only blood we’ll ever bleed is from paper cuts and scratches from thorns. Maybe in another life, the only tears we’ll cry are those of overwhelming happiness.”

19th of October, 25 AD

There had once been a time when the cobblestone was untainted and knew only the kindness of footsteps, be they laden with joy or otherwise. It memorised every imprint upon shoe soles, every line upon a foot, every arch that refused to touch the ground and every one that did. It basked in the warmth of the sun, and watched the travelling galaxies of stars when night fell. The path was young, and yet unrefined by time with its harsh grip. Its stone was tickled now, by the gentle brush of camellia petals that would soon come to disintegrate into a scarlet powder that would litter the ground for centuries to come, reflective of the stars dusting the darkness above.

The petals fell gently from small hands, belonging to children who had not even seen the world for a decade. Their bare feet fell lightly upon the warm stone, curving around the cobblestones. Their skin gleamed in the pale October light, still sun-kissed from the summer months. They picked at camellia flowers, unaware of the poetry falling between their fingers. They did not know that they scattered whispers of noble death, that they beckoned blood to taint those forgotten petals. They did not know that they sowed a deep and intense passion of love, one that would not come to pass till the barriers of society collapsed into insignificant flecks.

“Chuuya? I want to do this forever and ever! To run and play with you, and pick camellias all day!” The words floated upon peals of laughter that rang out across the fields, coming from the smiling mouth of a child that was, in every life, in every other instance, bandaged all over in a desperate attempt to mask the various, scarred lines of both self and world inflicted suffering, yet here, remained unbandaged, pure, unscarred.

Dazai’s eyes were as though pools of darkened sunlight, recalling the flow of sweet honey and the precious jewel of amber formed by millennia that was incomprehensible to the human mind. They shone brightly with an ecstasy that only children could know, and gazed upon the brown and orange gifts of autumn in an awed wonder. He turned to the one beside him, and beamed as he saw a mirror expression on Chuuya’s young features.

“I want to do that too! Then we’d always be happy. Mama says that there’s a story about how best friends can come back to life after they die, and they come back as new people. We’re going to have fun and be happy forever and ever!” The last words were punctuated with a sudden flurry of scarlet, and the petals floated about them as gentle rain. Some fell into locks of Chuuya’s hair, interlacing with the soft, ginger waves that fell into eyes that were reminiscent of a tranquil sea’s breaths upon the sandy shore, knowing only peace, oft highlighted with childish glee, as seashells floating upon the water.

They graced the environment with their blissful joy, and enhanced the air with peals of laughter. They let the world know of their happiness, and squealed gleefully, every drop of their merriness captured in a scarlet petal. They spread it freely, not knowing its value, not knowing the rarity of that which they gave away as though it was the most common thing, as though it was not something they would be greatly deprived of in their years to come. They were innocent, their ignorance brought them an angelic purity that they would forget, never to remember it again, never to even know of it save in dreams that would bless them only upon nights when the moon was particularly fond of them.

“Yes, we’re going to have a hundred thousand lives, and all of them are going to be happy!”

[justsleepyrune]

new oc time!!! technically a sunless skies oc, but i haven't played enough of the game to fully relate it to her yet,, so we'll figure it out!!

Nickname Finch, the Chronological Catastrophe

(or, as she'd prefer it, the Pirate Queen, Extraordinaire)

For canonical purposes, this woman's existence in time and space is a little.. fluid. Technically, she's jumped through universes and timelines, causing problems consistently. At least, so she claims.

She started out doing supply runs for the Neath, smuggling down illegal goods from the Surface, but an unfortunate incident led to her now being stuck permanently in the Neath.

Still, that didn't keep her down. Now she's focused on zailing. Piracy, more specifically, which is where she's gained her moniker. No risk is too great and there is absolutely no time to calculate danger. She's sank far too many ships.

While she's had quite a bit of fun with stealing riches, she's also done her fair share of stealing hearts.. or at least losing them. She's been scammed by a Notorious Art Dealer, had half her loot stolen by a Honey-Sipping Jewel Thief, and even had a mutiny ran by a certain Couturier. Despite this, she's got a vivid glee for romance, flings or not.

She's currently taken to providing glim for an Itinerant Physician's sister, in exchange for tender care for the dizzying amount of scrapes and wounds she collects. Despite not believing in doctors as a concept (a bazaar conspiracy, she's sure), she's become rather fond of the physician's company. Besides, it helps to have someone check on the cataracts that she's been beginning to develop.

She's around forty now, though she gives a wildly different answer whenever you ask her age. She's got a thousand stories to tell, although only half are believable, and only a third true. For now, though, she's always ready to grab a drink, share a laugh, and cause a little scandal.