Our Forbidden Worlds

A Fanfiction by Alex Morgan (LadyKadilion on Ao3) based on The Strain Universe by Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan. My work: Twitter.com/AlexologyArt | QuintusSertorius.Tumblr.com (The Strain sideblog) | instagram.com/alexology.art

[alexologyart]

Athena Orlova

First time using Krita!

A quick sketch that turned into a portrait of my dearest female character for the fanfic 'Our Forbidden Worlds' (The Strain FX).

What I love about this one is that, without model nor reference used, she looks EXACTLY how I imagine her in my head (◍•ᴗ•◍)✧*。

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[susiecards]

Judaism: Angelology

Maimonides, Mishneh Torah

Chayot Ha Kodesh: living creatures, living beings, or hayyoth; angels of fire who hold up the throne of God and the earth itself

Ophanim (galgalim): (lit. “spheres,” “wheels”) wheels seen in Ezekiel’s vision of the chariot (Ezekiel 1:15-21); four, eye-covered wheels (each composed of two nested wheels) that move next to the winged Cherubim beneath the throne of God; Second Book of Enoch: many-eyed ones; First Book of Enoch equates them with Christian ‘Thrones’

Erelim: (”hero”, “valiant one”) Arel, Ar’el, Er’el: valiant and courageous

Hashmallim: translated to electricity

Serapim: (”the burning one”) higher angels of the World of Beriah (”Creation,” first created realm, divine understanding) whose understanding of their distance from the absolute divinity of Atziluth causes their continual ‘burning up’ in self-nullification - Kabbalah 

Malakim: messengers, angels

Elohim: “godly beings” (deity) 

Bene Elohim: “sons of godly beings” (demigod)

Cherubim: Zohar (Kerubiel); midrash literature (two cherubim at entrance of paradise created on third day and had no definite shape therefore appearing either as men or women or as spirits or angelic beings

Ishim: “manlike beings” 

[cinemamind]

Early witnesses described the anomaly as having a glowing form before the arrival. Containment within the church has been successful.

Members of the church reported seeing “the Face of Christ” within the anomaly (which our cctv cameras have captured as well). We are unsure if this is a form of communication or mimicry from its surroundings.

Direct contact with the anomaly results in contamination.

Victims of the anomaly are kept in a quarantined medical bay where they receive careful treatment. All four victims (two staff, two church) have survived direct exposure to the anomaly.

Rooftop cameras have picked up footage of an entity (several?) trying to enter the church. We assume that they are drawn to the anomaly. Measures have been taken to keep the entities from breaching the containment area.

Second director ██████ has often been referred to as the “Eyes of God” by the staff, due to his unique connection with the anomaly. He is able to see everything that the anomaly sees (including the various ‘hosts’). This allows us a great advantage over the entities.

Congregation outside of church.

[buriacampaign]

“A third race emerged, the Dhampir. These natural warriors fought back and found ways to make the immortal Strigoi, mortal.”

[alexologyart]

Our Forbidden Worlds | Character Study

Progress 🎨

[mockingbirdie]

writing

[anonymouslyaddicted]

That.

[ourforbiddenworlds]

1.1. Paranoia

Time, time, time, see what's become of me

While I looked around

For my possibilities

I was so hard to please

But look around, leaves are brown

And the sky is a hazy shade of winter

Seasons change with the scenery

Weaving time in a tapestry

Won't you stop and remember me?

22:30 pm

She dressed in a hurry, putting on an oversized green sweater with a turtleneck and black cargo pants, drying her hair with a towel as best she could and tying it over her head without worrying too much about it.

JFK Airport: The Regis Air Flight 753 Tragedy

Flight 753 departed Germany with 210 aboard including flight crew.

It landed safely before going dark during taxiing.

All passengers feared dead.

She could still hear the tragic broadcast from her bedroom. As she pulled on a pair of boots over her pants, she took a glance around and all the things she had left unfinished the night before. Her desk was full of unorganized papers, open books and used teacups, the clutter of magazines, and even more books and folders piled on the floor. She saw a couple of dirty t-shirts on the back of her chair, and the open door of her closet.

The scene would have been familiar any other moment, but right now was turned upside down by a set of other sensations, causing a sickly emptiness in her stomach, overcome with a horribly inescapable feeling of claustrophobia.

Sighing heavily, she rubbed her tired eyes, and stretched the muscles of her neck with a rotating motion, but she ended up wincing at the painful tension and considered doubling the dose of anti-flu she had been taking during the week. The fever had gone down earlier, maybe that would make her feel better.

"Sorry, I could not hear your question over all that mental noise, can you repeat it please?" He had finished his coffee a long time ago while she continued to read the papers he had passed on to her. Now and after fifteen long minutes, he could not help but be sarcastic due her silence. She did not look up at him, but her lips pressed into a thin line told him everything.

"Are you sure you want this job?" She examined the papers on the table once more, even after knowing he had already decided on the subject and she had nothing more to say.

"Do you doubt me? Look, I called you because you were the first person that came to my mind, you have experience in all this, and already passed all the tests, basically I'm inside."

"And you know I'm not in the system anymore."

She was retired.

She lifted the backpack she discarded on the floor the day before, shaking the dust off of it and then emptied it on top of her mattress. Books fell first, along with the rest; a national geographic magazine, a sketchbook, the remains of an empty pack of snickers, and a rectangular black case.

Opening the case, she looked within, considering again whether it would be needed, or if her paranoia was forcing her to take hasty action.

In another time, in another life, she wouldn't have thought twice about it. But after years of looking for a more peaceful life, she still had the habit, not because of the way of life in which she had been raised, but because she knew it was a necessary evil.

She holstered the small handgun at her waist, hiding it under her sweater, and ultimately wrapping herself in a long jacket, she did so while listening to the reporter's voice from the television, talking about the press conference that the CDC and airport authorities would give in an hour, while the news anchors was speculating about the causes of such a big tragedy might be. A terrorist attack? Accidental decompression of the cabin? Or a lethal virus that threatened to expand from the moment they opened the escape hatch?

The silence of her apartment was interrupted by the occasional noise of a police siren moving away in the distance, or her neighbors continuous chatting and arguing. Someone flushed a toilet on the top floor and there was a gurgling of the pipes.

She thought she might have heard something, a vibration, a buzzing, or even a whisper, but dismissed it with a shake of her head. Her mind, sharp and imaginative, questioned the recent events. This doubt was likely caused by a new wave of fever, or perhaps she was still rattled by the nightmare that had disturbed her sleep only an hour before. Had Nikolay acted correctly by alerting her of the danger? Or was it an exaggeration produced by the collective confusion of the moment?

The street where she resided in Brighton Beach was deserted at that time of night. She secured the lock on her front door with two keys; the neighborhood was quiet, but even so her experience had taught her well one should never trust the appearances of a place.

She lived on the fifth floor, with a fire ladder that zigzagged down to a common patio and a parking lot, surrounded by a large black fence. The building adjoined a three-story grocery store, and both structures were separated by only ten meters from each other. The darkness of the alley smiled at her from below.

Covering her nose and mouth with her scarf, she avoided the smell of contamination. Without making noise, she crossed the outer corridor in great strides and went down the stairs with the same impetus with which she had left her apartment.

Crossing the parking lot with caution so no one could see her was easy at that time of the night, she did not like to attract attention, but she suspected that most residents would not dare to take their eyes off their TV screens, watching in the midst of their morbidity the latest events of the tragedy of the Regis Air.

xxx

She stopped behind a van, almost reaching the huge black gate that someone careless had left half-open. Holding her breath, she waited for the strange buzz to return once more. Skipping down the stairs, she thought it was only the electric generator near the garbage containers, but when a strange sensation overcame her and an imperceptible static vibration hit the hair on the back of her neck, she stopped.

When the sound did not return, and she resumed her march, slower this time, crossing the gate and facing the empty street.

She breathed slowly behind her thick scarf, appreciating the loneliness of the surrounding street. Even after walking several blocks to a main avenue, a persistent tingling plagued the base of her neck. Was she being paranoid?

She stopped once more before crossing the next street. The fog blocking her view. Glancing behind her only confused her doubts; there was nothing there.

The nearest subway station was only a few blocks away, and she hurried on. The shape of the street lights were indistinguishable against the thick, white polluted air; their light was nothing more than orbs. She usually enjoyed walking at night, but the last events left no room for such trivialities.

She glanced behind her one more time, without stopping, as she turned a corner. She tensed and frowned, her nostrils flaring at the sight of… it.

Finally.

There it was.

She caught only a glimpse of it, but she quickened her pace. Not bothering to turn around a third time.

Upon arriving at the Brighton Beach subway station, she decided to take the elevator to the platform, instead of the electric stairs. The station was above the avenue, and from her position at ground level it seemed to be lost in the cloud of pollution.

If that presence was following her to ask her about the weather, it would be better if they did so quickly. When the metal doors closed behind her, she leaned against them from exhaustion, her heart thudding inside her chest. She tried to catch her breath while covering her face with both trembling hands. As the wave of anxiety recede, she quickly looked for her cell phone.

You know more than anyone else, don't doubt that I'll call on you if something happens.

It was only when she pulled it from her pocket that she realized there was no signal at all.

What… when…?

The elevator rose with a metallic and creaking noise. The doors opened and she blinked in consternation at the absolute darkness before her.

A sudden shiver shot up her spine, ruffling the hairs on her nape and replacing every thought in her head with a gripping feeling.

She was more aware than ever of the hanging weight pressing on the right side of her ribs, under her sweater. Wringing her hands inside her jacket, she stepped out of the elevator without waiting for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light.

Almost immediately the elevator closed its doors and went down again, as if someone was calling for it.

Even at that time of night the avenue and also the platform used to show signs of activity, but in those moments everything seemed suspended in time. She could feel the weight of an almost palpable darkness, and when she tried to expand her senses against it, an alien force fought against her own.

"You're never going to tell me why you retired?" His mouth was full of cookies and she fought the impulse to giggle. Organizing all papers in the folder again, she stared at him over the small table.

"Because sometimes knowledge is a terrible thing, Kolya"

Sometimes you do not want to know what is hiding in the dark. It's better to look through it, and maybe it will not look back at you.

She wrapped her fingers around the handle of her handgun, lingering for a few moments as she tried to squint beyond the thick air, her muscles tensing. She advanced a few meters until she was within walking distance of the train tracks, taking out the gun as she turned towards the elevator.

The silence that followed to the noise told her that it was already there, but her eyes could not pierce the darkness in any way.

The instinct to run was strong, but the anger was stronger. She uncovered her face from the scarf while she pointed the weapon towards the darkness, and with a loud grunt she advanced against it, despite the overwhelming impulse to run, the fear. She called for it, with all the power of her mind, through the disturbance it has thrown over her. Ignoring it was not an option anymore, and she has had enough.

"What the hell do you want, you piece of shit?!"

The train seemed to come out of nowhere and shook the entire platform with its weight. She jumped from the impression as if she had received an electric shock, her body trembling with adrenaline and walking away as fast as she could when receiving the blow of air due to the speed of the machine.

The sudden change of scenery shook her, and she analyzed the situation quickly. The lights illuminated the platform around her, and there were people sitting waiting for the train just a few meters away, observing her weird behaviour with displeasure.

Her head told her that all that had been there, she knew it.

But the reason and logic had to fight against the overwhelming emotions that flooded her first.

The heat and rage that had flooded her body had been replaced by a cold sweat. She breathed deeply, in and out, over and over again until the visual static disappeared and her heart rate returned to normal.

The buzzing in her head reamined, like an invasive vibration she now knew with certainty, was the product of something more than just cautious paranoia. The second nature of her own brain warning her that there was something still lurking around.

She stepped through the train doors when they opened, pushing out of her way the few people who stepped out, while giving her dirty looks. She did not look at them, they were just tired and disinterested strangers, who cared nothing but their own problems.

The wagon was almost empty, and she found a seat quickly, while a young couple near the doors and an old man in front of her shot her strange glances. She needed to take one last look at the platform and the strange nocturnal watcher, wishing for it to know that she would not lower her guard even for a moment.

The buzzing inside her head dissipated as the train doors closed and began to slide down the rails.

She sighed slowly, processing the revelation of what just has happened. Distracting herself with her cell phone, she fought to remain calm, trying her hardest to control her shaking hands. The signal had returned, but there were no messages or missed calls.

"Maybe it's none of my business, but your nose is bleeding."

She knew it, but before she could wipe it with the back of her hand, the old man with the cane offered her a handkerchief. She accepted the gesture unceremoniously, thanking only with a nod, but not taking her eyes away from the window and the darkness that laid beyond.

Her body's reactions was betraying her, it has been just a sign of her own weakness. Her pale reflection in the window stared back, and it was then that she noticed that the old man who had offered her help was still watching her through the corridor.

Turning around, she made a gesture to return the handkerchief, folding it to hide insulting blood stain that she had left in it, but the man raised a gloved hand with deformed knuckles, stopping her attempts to stand. "Keep it, you need it more than me right now."

"Thank you." Her words resonated with shyness, as always, trying not to meet the man's eyes by giving him an awkward smile. He quickly scanned her face with narrowing eyes, stopping at her right cheekbone.

Startled by his scrutiny, she turned to the window again, hiding that part of her face and tensing her once more, cursing herself.

"Someone following you?"

She frowned, and for a moment observed the handkerchief stained red between her fingers. It was made with cotton and has two letters "A.S." embroidered in one of the corners. She felt shame for having used and stained something like that, but the man seen not to care. Her nose had stopped bleeding, but her head pounded and the fever had returned. The man's question had taken her by surprise, and when she glanced back at him, the expression he offered, under thick white brows and a black-brimmed hat, was not one of concern, but one of suspicion.

"Yes." She darted her eyes away, hating feeling scrutinized. She keep her eyes on the window, watching the night, and the dim lights of the city.

"And can you tell what was following you?" The man spoke in a raspy, low voice, occasionally glancing at the couple a few seats away from them. Even as frustration weighed down on her shoulders like the damn sword of damocles, the urgency of his voice baffled her, and she turned to him, overcoming her apprehension.

But the old man was no longer looking at her, instead he was staring out of her window. His eyes darted again and again towards the other passengers, as if not wishing to be heard. For a moment she had the unnerving sensation that he actually understood something that she has had trouble understanding for years.

That not all things could be seen by the naked eye.

She shook her head, clearing her mind and her suspicions. The old man was just curious, and she looked unwell. He was just concerned, and she just smiled while questioning whether the man's paranoia might match her own.

"My own shadow." She laughed the answer at the man, who frowned at the strangeness of her response, but she ignored his disappointment, turning to the window to stay there what was left of the trip. He glanced at her one last time, understanding her reserved attitude, before turning his attention to his own window, sinking into absolute silence.

[ourforbiddenworlds]

OUR FORBIDDEN WORLDS

Something is lurking in the streets of New York City, and has been doing so for a long time. But just a group of very reduced people knows about it, and when all chaos break loose, is their job to maintain the secret, like they've always done, but this time not everyone has the same goals, nor the same loyalty.

A Fanfiction by Alex Morgan, based on the The Strain Universe, by Guillermo del Toro & Chuck Hogan.

Read from the beginning here: Ao3, Tumblr

Cover by the author @alexologyart

[glumshoe]

Vampirism. Not a virus, not a monster, but a parasite.

The parasite starts its life cycle… somewhere. The soil, perhaps. Perhaps the act of burying and unburying your dead exposes you to the dormant parasite, and you become its first host. The parasite worms its way into your brain and starts making adjustments to your physiology and behavior. Maybe it exudes its own chemical pheromones that have been adapted to be wildly attractive to humans, or maybe it boosts your own magnetic characteristics. Maybe the parasite is photosensitive, or cannot tolerate temperatures much warmer than the average human body - you find yourself avoiding the light and sticking to dark, cool places during the day. Maybe the parasite feeds upon some minerals or proteins or other components in fresh blood, so you find yourself craving human flesh to replace the nutrients being robbed from your own system. Maybe the parasite must be transferred from its primary host to a secondary host before it can reach the final stage in its life cycle. Perhaps it enters your saliva and is transferred to the bloodstream of your prey, where it consumes them from the inside and reproduces in their dying body before being returned to the soil during to start the cycle anew. Perhaps complicated burial practices aim to halt the parasite’s life cycle at this stage, and vampirism only spreads when these practices are shirked.

[alexologyart]

Character Study | Sasha Wolkov

This is the first digital painting I’ve done of an OC of mine. I tend to think that the best way to describe a character is showing, in my case, drawing, because is my way to exteriorize what I wants to say.

The last couple of months I’ve been thinking about my OCs and how to portray them. In this case, I didn’t want to use an actress or an stock image to describe how I see her in my head,  I got motivation from actresses like Jessica Chastain or Gwendoline Christie, but no one came close to her.

I’m very satisfied how this painting turned on looking, is exactly how I imagine her. Fot those who don’t know, she is one of the main characters of my fanfiction Our Forbidden Worlds, based on The Strain Universe. I have been in a long hiatus since I enter second year of University, but now summer vacations have started and I have a lot of free time in my hands.

As a basic description, my character is a woman in her 40s, very tall (6 fts) and strong, with some visible scars, with eye bags due to sleep deprivation, no make up, a large nose, and a bit of grey hairs and some wrinkles, her outfit is very simple and practical. Actually, I thought a lot in Brienne of Tarth, Arya Stark and even Benedict/Sherlock while writing about her, you can understand my frustration when I realized most imagery for female characters didn’t even portray what I was looking for, so I’ve put a lot of effort in this painting.

It’s also a way to motivate me to keep writing and creating. In a sense, a way to keep the imagination alive.

[INSTAGRAM] [TWITTER]

[essenceanddescent]

AO3 Tag Wrangler

Hey, does anyone know an Ao3 Tag wrangler that can help us sort out a problem with our fandom’s tags?

@ao3tagoftheday @ao3tags @ao3org

I’ve put in a support ticket, even tweeted Ao3 directly on twitter, but I can’t get anyone to even respond.

[goodreadss]

““She felt very young; at the same time unspeakably aged.””

— Virginia Woolf (via goodreadss)

[juliaburgardt]

[thedystopia101]

The Ultimate Dystopian Playlist

Need some music to get your creative juices flowing? We’ve got you covered!

1. Radioactive by Imagine Dragons

2. Bones by Ms Mr

3. Uprising by Muse

4. We Are Responsible by Anna Johnson

5. Anything Could Happen by Elli Goulding

6. Renegades by X Ambassadors

7. Resistance by Muse

8. Stompa by Serena Ryder

9. It’s Time by Imagine Dragons

10. Lantern by Josh Ritter

11. Human by The Killers

12. Final Masquerade by Linkin Park

13. Escape by Kongos

14. Drive it Like You Stole it by the Glitch Mob

15. Edge of a Revolution by Nickelback

16. Crystals by Of Monsters and Men

17. Hero of War by Rise Against

18. Search and Destroy by 30 Seconds to Mars

19. Secrets by OneRepublic

20. Monsters by Matchbook Romance

21. Invincible by Skillet

22. Gold by Imagine Dragons

23. Human Race by Three Days Grace

24. Into the Fire by Thirteen Senses

25. Vox Populi by 30 Seconds to Mars

26. Human by Christina Perri

27. Some Kind of Monster by Neon Trees

28. What I’ve Done by Linkin Park

29. Away From the Sun by Three Doors Down

30. State of My Head by Shinedown

31. Cough Syrup by Young The Giant

32. Sick Of It by Skillet

33. Centuries by Fall Out Boy

34. Mountain At My Gate by Foals

35. Castle by Halsey

36. Pompeii by Bastille

37. Save the World by Swedish House Mafia

38. Who We Are by Imagine Dragons

39. I Own You by Shinedown

40. Collective Amnesia by Rise Against

41. Viva La Vida by Coldplay

42. Inferred by Placebo

43. Young Volcanoes by Fall Out Boy

44. Burn by Elli Goulding

45. Derezzed by The Glitch Mob

46. You Make Me Want to Die by The Pretty Reckless

47. Glittering Clouds by Imogen Heap

48. Outcast by Shinedown

49. Oh, What a Life by American Authors

50. It’s About Time by Young The Giant

51. Kingdom of Rust by Doves

52. Somewhere Only We Know by Keane

53. Kerosene Dreams by X Ambassadors

54. Recondite mixed by Wahbi Abderrahamane

55. Aftermath by Muse

56. Ready, Aim, Fire by Imagine Dragons

57. Empty Gold by Halsey

58. Believer by Imagine Dragons

59. Meet Me On the Battlefield by SVRCINA

60. Feed The Machine by Nickelback

61. The Bad in Each Other by Fiest

62. Warrior by Beth Crowley

63. Midnight City by M83

64. Not Afraid Anymore by Halsey

65. Yamaha by Delta Spirit

66. Beast by Nico Vega

67. Polarize by Twenty One Pilots

68. Gasoline by Halsey

[cavarage]

30 DAYS OF HORROR CHALLENGE:  6/7 Creatures → Strigois

In Romanian mythology, Strigois are the troubled spirits of the dead rising from their graves. Their abilities include transforming into an animal, invisibility and the power to drain the vitality of their victimes via blood loss. They are the myth behind Bram Stoker’s vampire. The name strigoi is related to the Romanian verb a striga, which means “to scream”.

[rhubarbes]

ArtStation - Three circles of hell ( 3 covers ), by Nekro .

[ourforbiddenworlds]