#eroding statue
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Crystalized Quartz ‘Seated Pikachu’ By Daniel Arsham at Perrotin New York Exhibit (2019-2020)
50.8 × 50.8 × 55.9 cm | 20 × 20 × 22 inch, made of quartz, selenite, and hydrostone
#dystopria#statue art#figure art#daniel arsham#crystal art#eroding statue#eroding art#daniel arsham art#pikachu#Pokemon#pokemon community#pokemon art#pikachu figure#pikachu art
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nothing like getting into a game 15 years late
#off#off game#vader eloha#personal design interpretation :)#sorta based on that one fucked up sea eroded saint statue#think it is important to draw these characters as body horror as possible#art
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Time Erodes History I & II
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Flemeth’s Fade – Part 1
Quest:The Final Piece
When heading to the room with the eluvian near the Skyhold garden, we meet Leliana who tells us that Morrigan has entered the mirror in pursuit of her son. As the Inquisitor enters the Eluvian, they realise that it leads to the Fade instead of the Crossroad. A part of the Fade that seems to reflect part of the "personal" story of Flemeth.
[This is part of the series “Playing DA like an archaeologist”]
[Index page of Dragon Age Lore]
Once we return from the Temple of Mythal, we find Leliana telling the Inquisitor that Morrigan chased Kieran into the Eluvian. This scene is completely skipped and we never have access to this Fade if Kieran does not exist. For Lore reasons, I think having Kieran is the richest option
We enter the eluvian, and what we realise immediately is that we are not in the Crossroads that Morrigan showed us before. Instead, we are in a part of the Fade. This shows that powerful mages can force Eluvians to go to the Fade and the final destination of an Eluvian is not precisely determined with its construction. This is telling us that technically, any eluvian can allow us to reach the Fade if you are powerful enough.
This Fade is more guided that the one in Adamant Fortress. In the moment we enter, we find these mabari-brazier that are so typical of Ferelden, and a statue of a The Guide.
Same as in the previous Fade, there are a lot of Keepers of Fears merger in the landscape. I find this strange, because this space belongs to Flemeth, it’s not a space of a demon of Nightmare or terror. Someone could argue that, since Flemeth may have some relationship with the Chasind, her relationship is being reflected in these statues since Alamarri and Avvar [and likely Chasind too] may share the tradition of the Keepers of Fear. We see several screaming faces, Keepers of Fear, Eroded dragon skull, and a Dwarf with long limbs. The first thing giving us a welcome is a big hand and a table.
This same table has been found in the previous Fade, in the beginning of that space too, like an invitation. Over the table, there are hanged generic dead bodies and two enormous hands: one keeping the strings of the hanged dead, and another from which a pile of keepers of fear emerges. These hands seem to work like the hands we see in the Crossroads of Trespasser, which give support to eluvians or circular tree.
Aside of this configuration, a bit hidden on the ground, Andraste statue’s head.
As we approach the second opening, we see a pair of Keepers of Fear, with heads being burnt, flanking a Sacrificial altar. The figure of a man is towering over them, and in front of these elements, there is a statue of Beheaded ram-man. The whole configuration seems to relate again the concept of sacrifice and fear.
These are the rarest version of the Keepers of Fear. In this case, we see them working: their heads are burning, maybe as a representation of the fear screams being consumed before an Alamarri goes to fight against their fate. The base of these Keepers of Fear have a drawing on it that looks like another creature, screaming.
The Sacrificial altar can be studied with great detail in this part of the Fade. We can see that it has a small platform with decorated patterns and carvings in the metal.
We have seen this human sculpture among Orlesian collections or in Free Marches-themes statues.
The Beheaded ram-man is erected on a head of a Keepers of Fear. [Fore more detail about this statue, read The Raw Fade: Part 1 ]
As we keep walking, we find Morrigan beside an enormous Claw of Dumat on one side, and a statue of the Free Marches in front of her. There are many keepers of fears around and above too.
Here, Morrigan explains that to direct the eluvian to the Fade requires immense power, which is absolutely reasonable since Kieran keeps the soul of an archdemon inside him.
Ahead, we find a very curious corridor that got my attention since I saw it. I believe the game is explicitly telling us to relate the andraste’s head with the Ferelden Wyvern through the spike. We know there is a tale in Ferelden Folklore [landmark Fereldan Wyvern Statues] where they connect both in a story that the Chantry does not acknowledges as official. I don’t know what’s the real deal with this Wyvern, but the connections with dragon-like creatures [reptiles] seems to be a pattern in the game. This Wyvern in particular is standing on two Tevinter urns. How this creature relates to Tevinter is also a mystery, but this statue has been seen in ancient Tevinter buildings as well, predating Andraste and Blights.
We step into another Guide under which a small table and chair can be found.
Behind the guide there is a skull with two metallic columns that seems to be Claws of Dumat prototypes. We saw these artefacts in Western Approach: Coracavus; Records Room, gathered around desks:
Maybe it is an artefact used to study elements, such as heads, or to record information. Still it is hard to guess its function.
When we reach to the next clearing, we find one of these Tevinter devices of several claws, diapason-like, clipped with an “injector”. This device, or at least this combination of clipping is similar to what we saw in Suledin Keep, when we met Imshael. Like in that place, at the base of the device there is red lyrium. Same as in Suledin, the area seems to be related to Horned warrior holding a sword. This is the first time that this element appears in the Fade. It’s placed at the left of the device, on a piece of rock: One on front of the rock, and a smaller version behind it.
A bit above of the device, we find a Tevinter urn merged in the stone and more versions of Keepers of Fear, one who is swallowing or regurgitating Red Lyrium, and another screaming.
#fade#the fade#Playing DA like an archaeologist#The Guide#mabari statues#eluvian#Keepers of Fear#Eroded dragon skull#Dwarf with long limbs#sacrificial altar#andraste#andraste statue#claw of dumat#Horned warrior holding a sword#tevinter design#Tevinter objects#tevinter artefacts#tevinter urn
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the funny thing is that i don't think younger people - and i mean those under the age of 40 - really have a grasp on how many of today's issues can be tied back to a disastrous reagan policy:
war on drugs: reagan's aggressive escalation of the war on drugs was a catastrophic policy, primarily targeting minority communities and fueling mass incarceration. the crusade against drugs was more about controlling the Black, Latino and Native communities than addressing the actual problems of drug abuse, leading to a legacy of broken families and systemic racism within the criminal justice system.
deregulation and economic policies: reaganomics was an absolute disaster for the working class. reagan's policies of aggressive tax cuts for the rich, deregulation, and slashing social programs were nothing less than class warfare, deepening income inequality and entrenching corporate greed. these types of policies were a clear message that reagan's america was only for the wealthy elite and a loud "fuck you" to working americans.
environmental policies: despite his reputation being whitewashed thanks to the recovery of the ozone layer, reagan's environmental record was an unmitigated disaster. his administration gutted critical environmental protections and institutions like the EPA, turning a blind eye to pollution and corporate exploitation of natural resources. this blatant disregard for the planet was a clear sign of prioritizing short-term corporate profits over the future of the environment.
AIDS crisis: reagan's gross neglect of the aids crisis was nothing short of criminal and this doesn't even begin to touch on his wife's involvement. his administration's indifference to the plight of the lgbtq+ community during this devastating epidemic revealed a deep-seated bigotry and a complete failure of moral leadership.
mental health: reagan's dismantling of mental health institutions under the guise of 'reform' led directly to a surge in homelessness and a lack of support for those with mental health issues. his policies were cruel and inhumane and showed a personality-defining callous disregard for the most vulnerable in society.
labor and unions: reagan's attack on labor unions, exemplified by his handling of the patco strike, was a blatant assault on workers' rights. his actions emboldened corporations to suppress union activities, leading to a significant erosion of workers' power and rights in the workplace. he was colloquially known as "Ronnie the Union Buster Reagan"
foreign policy and military interventions: reagan's foreign policy, particularly in latin america, was imperialist and ruthless. his administration's support for dictatorships and right-wing death squads under the guise of fighting "communism" showed a complete disregard for human rights and self-determination of other nations.
public health: yes, reagan's agricultural policies actually facilitated the rise of high fructose corn syrup, once again prioritizing corporate profits over public health. this shift in the food industry has had lasting negative impacts on health, contributing to the obesity epidemic and other health issues.
privatization: reagan's push for privatization was a systematic dismantling of public services, transferring wealth and power to private corporations and further eroding the public's access to essential services.
education policies: his approach to education was more of an attack on public education than anything else, gutting funding and promoting policies that undermined equal access to quality education. this was, again, part of a broader agenda to maintain a status quo where the privileged remain in power.
this is just what i could come up with in a relatively short time and i did not even live under this man's presidency. the level at which ronald reagan has broken the united states truly can't be overstated.
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that one woman that said the roman empire didn't exist was fucking wild deadass
#vall txt#the shit i've heard the shit i've read#i deserve compensation#also old ass statues have parts that just fall off#the arms and nose are usually the first to go because they are usually detached from the rest of the structure#also they are the ones people throughout their existence have touched the most therefore eroding them further#it's really not rocket science
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I told my friend I wish I believed in god or simply a god. I said I could make up a god and believe in it but I know it’s nothing and it’s foolish to put your faith in nothing.
I said it’s like people enjoying foods I don’t like. I want to know what it tastes like to them. I want to know what religion feels like to them.
#pgrtag#raised catholic nonsense#the guilty feeling of nothing#respect to a hollow statue eroding towards lack of recognition
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Falke is so compelling. Usually when a machine is imbued with a God complex in fiction it immediately decides it's superior to humanity and goes on a rampage - but FKLR units are nothing more than tools, just like the other Replikas. In Replika hierarchy, yes, they're basically deities - hell, their inner circle is literally comprised of units designed to be reliant on her guidance, ADLRs explicitly designed to be dependent on them and KLBRs acting as relays for their bioresonant abilities. They built polyethylene icons of godhood and then they built hopelessly devoted apostles for them. And yet, despite that, even the corrupted Falke unit in charge of Sierpinski never considers herself above humanity - perhaps it's because her ego is satiated by her status as a superweapon of the Nation, or perhaps it's simply a devotion of her own.
And then her godhood is challenged. She passed through the Gate, came back different, split by the flood of memories foreign to her. At first she sees it as an attack, a curse sent down to her from afar, but slowly she grows enamored with it. "These memories are mine now" - as if passed down, inherited, gifted to her. Is losing yourself really a curse when the "self" wasn't yours in the first place? Is this whole ordeal that much different from her creation? In the end, despite her status, her power, her authority, her influence on this dollhouse of manufactured devotees - she's just like any other Replika: a vessel to store memories that don't belong to them. Nothing is truly hers. Her body manufactured, her mind passed down to her from a frozen body, her power bestowed unto her by a module inserted into her shell. This isn't hers either, but it gives her something she'll otherwise never experience - memories of being loved. Not the hard-coded obsession of an ADLR unit, not the pride AEON feels towards her as a technical marvel - memories of someone's actual fondness. These memories don't belong to her, but at this point, the one they truly belonged to is gone. She is not alone anymore. She isn't one. She is split in two. She isn't just Falke anymore. She is also Elster. And perhaps she prefers being Elster to being Falke.
So when she is pierced with her own spears and left to bleed out, she is content. She is Elster. She is one entity in two bodies. And now, with one body left as nothing but a pile of eroded, tumorous, bleeding flesh, only one remains. She was two. And now she is one.
#signalis#signalis spoilers#falke#falke signalis#fklr#elster#lstr#rambling#this game lives in my mind rent free lately I swear to god
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I’d like to order some nsfw genshin impact SAGAU stuff:
More specifically, its when the Creator uses a vessel different from Wanderer, their main, and he gets jealous all the time.
So, when they descend on teyvat, one of the first things they do is fuck the jealousy out of him so badly he cant speak. (Yes its overstimulation because MAN…)
♡︎ 𝙢𝙮 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙜𝙤𝙙 ♡︎
characters: sub!AFAB!wanderer (or scaramouche) x nb!dom!reader
warnings: overstimulation, dacryphillia, jealousy, oral fixation, squirting, fingering, slight cult-ish and religious undertones
notes: hhhh my first sagau smut
kabukimono adored the creator.
how could he not? he was just a mere creation and a vessel of the god of all gods.
the first to tell the poor, discarded puppet of you was niwa. when seeing how everyone in tatarasuna worshipped a being called divine creator, the poor puppet couldn’t help his own curiosity and ask. in response, niwa patiently explained to him how there was once an ancient being. a god of all gods. one who even reigned over the archons, celestia itself. one who created teyvat, blessed it with life and in their weakened state, went to an eternal rest.
kabukimono adored the creator with the hollow remains of where his heart is meant to be. an empty shell filling with fuzzy feelings, smile spreading on his face whenever he goes to pray at your shrine, offerings of small yet precious things left in your altar. he only hoped it would please your soul.
kunikuzushi has secret reverence and respect for the creator.
you took away his friend, his home, his family and yet he still hopes for your guidance. carrying hope in the shape of a small wooden carving that he made, which he clutches closely to his chest.
during restless nights and moments when he feels himself slipping, losing hope, losing sight of loving you — he clutches the wooden carving to his chest. tight, tight to the point it leaves a dent in his pale hand and whispers into it. how he wishes to be in your care. how he hopes that you didn’t abandon him. how he hopes that your loving arms would hold him one day. how you are the only source of life he has.
how all the blood he shed was meant for you. a sacrifice for you. to appease you. to bring you back to teyvat. to see you in flesh.
kunikuzushi has secret reverence and respect for the creator.
scaramouche despises the creator.
you left him. when his own mother betrayed him and left him alone, he was lucky to be found by nagamasa. he was lucky that niwa was kind enough to let him stay at tatarasuna. how you were so cruel that even after all the metal and iron, gold and silver he molded and modeled to make tiny offerings to your altar. how you were twisted to give him small slivers of hopes in the form of niwa and the sick child, yet to take them away.
he hates you. despises you. loathes you. every little altar he sees, he hopes to destroy it. every statue of you he glimpses at, he uses his delusion to shock the old and eroded stone until it breaks and crumbles. oh, how badly he wished to do the same to you.
the sixth of the eleven fatui harbingers won’t even hesitate for a split second to spit on your name even in the presence of the tsaritsa. childe always looks down on him whenever he does. the ginger’s hands twitching, delusion and vision mixing up together as he tries his best to hold himself back from jumping on the short arrogant puppet.
and yet despite it all… scaramouche still clutches the small wooden carving of you. holding it close to his chest as he secretly whispers in his mind how much he wishes to please you. the puppet only hopes all the bodies he piled up would satisfy you, even just a little bit.
wanderer loves you dearly.
he has been wrong this whole time. you were never twisted, never sick in the head nor heart, never wishing to manipulate him, never wishing harm or pain upon anything. you were gentle. loving. every life form you passed by would swoon and sway, hoping to touch you. even touching your clothes or robes would be enough.
when be first got his vision, he heard your voice in his head. it was the same loving warmth that enveloped the traveler. it was warm, gentle, loving but still not fully there. when he protected the traveler and the floating thing, he could hear you cheer for him. for him.
but when an array of shooting stars engulfed the fake skies, wanderer looks up as always. blue ones, purple ones and then he felt it. a certain pull in his chest. like how red strings of fate tugs on your pinky in all those fairytales.
and he follows.
running, running, running — until he eventually reaches an odd place. a clear sky, one that looked real and one that cradled him in a gentle warmth.
“yeeesss!! you’re finally home! welcome home, wanderer!” a voice rings in his head loud and clear. excitement, happiness, elation, joy, pride — all sorts of emotions bubble in him, ready to burst out. but instead it fell down in the form of a tear. a happy tear.
it was you. it was the creator. the all-knowing, all-loving one. and you wanted him! him of all people! and you were happy that you had him!
yet wanderer doesn’t get it.
if you loved him so much, wanted him, pre-farmed for him as you said and even got his signature weapon, why were you using someone else? why use that cocky cryo user from mondstadt? why use his brother who is equally cocky but knows how to keep it hidden? why use that annoying old archon who flaunts that he is your oldest and most devout follower? or even the yashirou commissioner!
was he not enough? was he not strong enough? did you needed to “farm” for his talent materials? if so, no need! he already went ahead and got them for you when you logged out! everything to make him the perfect dps as you called is all there and ready!
strange.
why was your other characters are all either dead or on 1hp when you log in? only wanderer is there — your main — in full hp. standing proud and cocky with the same grin.
——
it’s tough to be a god.
no seriously. all jokes and that damn catchy song aside, it was indeed tough to be a god. especially when all these powerful people who can literally control elements and even gods themselves were worshipping you. how can you be a god of all gods?
well, you found out the answer to that question on one of your earlier days when you got a little bit too curious. all in the form of an ichor bleeding out of your palm that you sliced. and perhaps a bit pressured too. after all, being put on a pedestal for everyone to see and worship and grovel to is hard to deal with. especially when you were suddenly thrown into a world that you thought was only fictional!
but there was also something else that was incredibly, unbelievably, astoundingly hard to deal with was your main. the puppet who was abandoned. the short, sarcastic asshole. but never towards you! he would hate to make you even slightest bit sad or angry.
and yet he does it anyways.
going out of his way to stalk down some poor merchant you like buying things from to buy most of their stock so you won’t visit the merchant’s shop again. picking fights with your acolytes when you show the slightest hint of favoritism. hell, he almost killed childe. but of course, the battle lusted ginger loved the thrill and had asked for more future fights.
which all led to here. him getting his well deserved punishment.
poor wanderer thinking he was all too slick. how he was doing everything behind your back so you wouldn’t know anything. how you would stay innocent to his actions while he goes and picks another fight. but you noticed. every single jealousy inflicted actions wanderer had pulled and orchestrated, you knew.
anyone could walk in right now and see what was happening. anyone of your pathetic other acolytes could walk in and see how good you were fucking him. fingers knuckles deep into his cunt, fucking him so good, so deep.
and dear stars and you, wanderer wanted that. he wanted those pathetic worshippers to see how you favored him above them.
wanderer had lost his sense of self and mind long time ago. the moment you wrapped your hand around his throat to manhandle his tiny body to sit on your lap, his mind was gone. a blank sheet of paper.
the puppet doesn’t remember how many orgasms you’ve wrung out of him but he loved it. he wanted it. he wanted more. he wanted your fingers to fuck him open.
in his hazy mind, lust ridden babbles and overstimulated body, he can feel it. how your other hand is keeping his labia spread open. how you apply pressure around his cunt. how your fingers are squelching into him, creating a filthy wet shlick! shlick! noises.
how your hand keeping his labia open goes to tug on his clit. pinching the bud of muscle as he writhes and screams in your lap. squirting over your fingers again like a common brothel whore. and he loved it. by the stars above, he loved it.
because deep in his most depraved part of mind, wanderer knew that he was a whore. your whore. your common brothel cheap whore. your whore who would spread open his legs for you if you asked for it. who would eagerly finger himself so he can provide you with some sort of entertainment. who would take your hand and guide it inside his shorts, not even bothering to wear undergarments, so he can give you easier access.
he doesn’t remember. doesn’t want to remember how many times he came. when you place him on your own throne, legs propped on both sides on the armrest, his wet, slick covered pussy and hardened sensitive clit for the world to see, all he can think about is how good it feels.
when you get down on your knees in front of him, it feels like a sacrilege. shouldn’t it be him who’s on his knees in front of you, trying and hoping to please you?
yet all of his thoughts fly out the window when your fingers stretch his sensitive pussy open again. fingers hooked on the inside slightly, just enough to open up his inner labia and for you to admire his gaping hole. waiting eagerly for you to claim it once again.
“your gra—aanhg!! grace! grace! your grace!! f-feelsh good. feelsh good feelsh goodfeelsgoodgoodgood ghk—! aammh!♥︎“ the jealous puppet whines and babbles on, your title falling over his lips over and over like a mantra as he drools. mind long gone, sanity on the thin line between delirium and lucidity. struggling to comprehend just what is happening.
he feels your mouth on him. tongue lapping at his juice greedily like an insatiable animal while he struggles to keep his legs open. hand twitching, hesitating for a moment before he grips onto your hair tightly — his only anchor. he can feel everything too greatly.
body sensitive, pushed over the boundaries of his virgin state. he could feel how you suck on his sensitive clit, forcing him to squirt into your mouth.
if this was how you would treat him to stop his jealousy induced rampages, maybe wanderer should do it more often.
#nobu.writes#sub genshin impact#sub genshin#sub!genshin#sub!genshin impact#sub scaramouche#sub!scaramouche#sub wanderer#genshin impact x reader smut#genshin x reader smut#genshin impact smut#genshin smut#scaramouche smut#wanderer smut#gender neutral reader
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Platonic yandere Miguel? You're an alt universe version of his daughter that he's taken in (aka kidnapped) so that he'll never lose her again, poor traumatized sod just wants a family again
Spiderweb
YANDERE MIGUEL O’HARA X READER
Preview:
When anomalies begin to enter universe 20477, Miguel is assigned to tracking them down. He wasn’t expecting to see himself, with a girl like you, scared and wide eyed on his arm. You were his, you just had to be.
(Platonic)
He knew what you would be to him.
He knew who you were.
He knew he had to protect you.
He knew he wouldnt let you go.
He couldn't.
It was purely coincidental, seeing you, that is. He just happened to be in your plane of existence that day, chasing down an anomaly that was jumping from universe to universe every other day. None of the others were able to catch him, a fast fujjer he was. So Miguel was a last resort, the only one capable enough to catch the guy. There was a chase down the streets of whatever universe he was in, then a catastrophic fight near the center of the city.
This place was so similar to his own universe, The same skies, the same cities, the same feeling, the same sadness as his own realm. He wanted to get in and get out, that's all. In fact, he was moments- seconds even- seconds away from catching the anomaly, seconds away from leaving this sad awful reminder of what happened to him. And then he saw you and his world stopped in its tracks.
You were teary-eyed, crying like a little baby. A few pieces of concrete that had been knocked up from the ground during the fight had cut your cheek, leaving a small dribble of blood streaming down your face. There was such a fear laced in your eyes, such a terror that flooded your expression. But that wasn't what shocked him about you, as his eyes panned from you to the man you had your arms wrapped around, his face fell completely.
You were clutching onto him. HIM. Miguel o’hara. You had your arms wrapped around his, clutched tight in fear, the two of you were trapped against the side of a building with rubble that had eroded. He was him, you were holding onto him, you had to be his daughter, and the way you were looking to him for protection was enough to show the parental status he had.
He had a daughter again.
You were his daughter.
He stared at the sight of the two of you for a moment, sending a harsh glare to his copy, his fake. Whoever you were clinging to, whoever you were wrapped around, he couldn't protect you. Miguel wanted nothing more than to pull you up and take you with him, take you home. But he couldn't, he had to play this carefully. He's lost a daughter before, he wouldnt do this again.
Like a flash, the tall man dressed in a black and red suit disappeared completely, along with the anomaly. Leaving the Town square In rubble. You blinked, just once, and when you opened your eyes once more, you had been pulled out from the bone-crushing concrete and were laid across the grass. It was too fast for you to see the man who had done it, to see the way his hands lingered at your waist, to see how he swiped the blood off of your face, to see how he looked at you. Of course, you hadn't. Maybe if you had, you could've avoided this.
---
You were shaken, to say the least. Things like this, like supervillains flying through the air and shattering buildings and corroding concrete, throwing people around like frisbees. Things like this just didn't happen, not ever. So to be trapped like that, stuck in rubble covered in blood as you had to watch the scene unfold… You were terrified. Even more so when your father had been hurt.
It was fast for the two of you to get away from the scene, especially since whatever was happening screeched to a halt, and the two figures disappeared, leaving the police, and you, completely confused. You just couldn't understand what the fudd happened, how could two people just disappear? Why did this happen all of a sudden? Why did that man- Why did he look so familiar?
It was supposed to be a fun little outing between you and your dad, a walk in the park to go get some food and have a picnic, but before you knew it you were shoved against a wall with glass and rock stuck in your face, your dad holding you close To shield you from the chaos around. You had been squeezing your eyes shut tight enough that they itched and ached now.
You were in too much shock to be able to give the cops any valuable information they would even remotely need, too focused on the fact Things like this didn't happen here, they just didn't. You cried on the way home, holding your (now bandaged) dad tight as you could. He hushed you, comforting you to the best of his ability. But you were both tired, too tired to care about taking your dirty clothes off or going to actual bed.
You slept on the couch, on your dad that night.
But when you woke up the next morning, he was gone.
It wasn't too strange for him, working as a doctor he was often called in early mornings to late nights, too early for you to be up when he left. But still, something felt off about it this time, usually he would wake you up for a few moments to say goodbye and give you a kiss. There was none of that today, just you, left under a blanket lying down on the couch, cold and alone and still scared straight.
The house felt different, dead. Like something was weighing heavy in the air, dragging all the air down and making it suffocatingly tight in the room. You wanted to get out, to go outside and go on a walk or something. But yesterday… with what happened. The feeling of dread sat in the back of your head, forcing you not to step out of your apartment, too scared to leave but too bored to stay.
You sat on the couch all day basically, watching reruns of old sitcoms. You knew your dad wouldn't be mad that you didn't want to go to school today, most of the time he came home too tired to do more than eat and sleep so you doubt he would even notice.
The sound of the door opening, along with uncharacteristically light footsteps Alerted you that your dad was home again, you sat up, pushing the blanket off of your shoulders and sitting up on the edge of the couch to look at him. At the sight of him, your head fell into a tilt, he looked… not bad, but different. A little bit more tired looking, his wrinkles were far more set into his face, and his was shorter, and far less groomed than it usually was.
“Hola Papa. Did you cut your hair or something? It looks different.” You narrowed your eyes at him with a small smile. He nodded, staring at you with some foreign look in his eyes. Setting down the few grocery bags he held in his hands.
You blinked, and within a moment he was on top of you, embracing you in a tight hug. You were immediately lifted off of the ground with a slight squeal, you wrapped your arms around his neck as he held you tight, breathing in your smell. How odd. Your dad isn't like this. Not very touchy, he never showed too much affection. The hug lasted for what felt like hours of you in his arms, held tightly.
You came realization only a few seconds in that you liked it, this is what you needed, and it felt nice. All the dread from your system completely drained out as his arms got tighter and tighter, and tighter. Since when has your dad been so muscular? Last you can remember, he was softer, not as rough. Strange, isn't it?
“Mija. I missed you so much baby, so much.” he breathed in the smell of your hair again, pulling you higher up onto his chest. His words should've sent off red flags in your head, you had just seen him hours ago right? You stayed quiet, choosing to relish in the moment of comfort this gave you. His voice was scratchy and rough, like he'd been screaming.
“Me too. I didn't go to school today, too scared.” Your voice was muffled against his chest, but you could feel his heartbeat with every breath he took. At your words his arms tightened slightly, and you squished your face further onto his neck. He was like a human furnace, radiating heat in your too-cold apartment.
“Oh baby- I’m here now. I’ll protect you, you won't ever have to be scared ever again.” With that, he brought a hand up to cup the back of your head, and his lips met your forehead in a warm kiss. If you maybe hadn't been so wrapped up in the fact that this felt so warm, so nice, you would've noticed the look he held in his eye. How deranged he looked, how terrifying he was. Maybe you would've paid more attention to all the little things that weren't adding up about him.
“Mi ninita. I’m so glad you're okay, I will never leave you again.” The two of you shared a glance, and that heavy feeling of dread pooled back into your system. There was something else in his eyes, something terrifying. Maybe you were just tired, or maybe you had head trauma from yesterday.
Moments passed as you enjoyed the warm hug, before he began to move, still keeping you in his arms, but walking elsewhere, you muttered a small “Hm?” squirming slightly in attempts to get yourself back on your own two feet, but he just shook his head at you, and squeezed.
“I got dinner while I was out, empanadas. I figured we could eat in my bed and watch a movie, You'll sleep with me tonight” He took note of your confused face, then went on to continue “ I don't want you alone anytime soon, especially not with all that's happening in the neighborhood. You don't want to get hurt, right? “
You just shook your head, letting yourself relax in his grip. Truly when had he become so strong, or on a different note, as affectionate? Usually, your dad was exhausted, he loved you, yeah, you knew that, but coming home from a 12-hour hospital shift at an understaffed medical center drained him. He usually didn't have time, and when he did he really didnt know how to spend it.
You slept better than you ever have in your entire life that night, close to your dad in his bed, cuddled under a warm blanket with your father's arms relentlessly wrapped tight around you, caging you in… you didnt hate it.
…
The next few weeks were different, strange, and not like you were used to. Everything changed. At first, it was just the little things, the things you would usually glide over. Miguel would come home early, leave later, and bring you food and clothes and stuff you were never able to afford.
Kids at your school started avoiding you, even though you never did anything to make you avoidable. It was weird for you, to see such a sudden shift in your life. The weirdest part about it though, is you had no idea what changed.
Not long after though, it got worse. Your dad would look through your phone, something he never cared about before, he always excused it with the same “I'm just looking out for you mija”, but it felt like a lie. Eventually, your contacts list shifted and changed to your dad.. And your dad. If you got any texts or calls he would look at them before you could, and decline them.
You stopped going out of the house as much, he excused you from school, telling you that you needed a break after all the trauma you've been through in the past few weeks. And without school or friends, you didnt have any reason to go out unless it was for mail or groceries. Even then, sometimes your dad would walk with you or just go himself instead. Eventually it got to the point that you weren't allowed to go out, not by your own choice anymore..
And Miguel, he would tell you things about what was going on outside. How all of a sudden there were villains on every corner, people were dying every day, crime was high. It scared you, and he clearly knew that, he used it to keep you inside, to keep you from going out.
It just got to the point where you did nothing, absolutely nothing. And you were tired of it. You wanted to go out, live your life and see people and see things, have fun with friends, do stupid teenager things. Things you should've already been doing. But he wouldnt let you, he made you stay inside, held you tight so you wouldnt leave.
And with the realization that this man was controlling you, your rose-colored glasses flew off of your face entirely. Your father wasn't like this, he barely cared enough to ask how your day was. Let alone keep you caged in your own home every day. Something was very very wrong. And just like that, it all snapped into place.
This isn't your dad. The way he acted, the way he walked, the way he held you, the way he looked at you, the way he controlled you, the way he comforted you when you were upset. There was not one thing about this man that made sense, not one similarity. Whoever this was, it wasn't your miguel ohara, it was a fake. A phony.
“Mija? Are you feeling sick? Whats wrong” He stared at you, letting his brows cluster together in worry. He had you sitting on the counter as he cooked, wearing one of your dads white t-shirts, it clung to his back muscles, showcasing the spider tattoo on the back of his neck. Your dad thought tattoos were trashy and unprofessional, and your dad most certainly did not have muscles like that. How had you been so daft as to miss that?
You stared, narrowing your eyes at the man who was wearing your dads clothing, your dads skin.
“Y/n?” he turned, placing the knife down on the counter, and grabbing your shoulders. The stranger stood in front of you, bending over to have his face at your level. He looked into your eyes, tilting his head. The position brought you back to your senses, and reminded you that this man, whoever he was, was extremely stronger than you were, and could overpower you without even thinking about it.
You snapped up. “Oh! Sorry. Just thinking.” you spoke with a shaky voice, grabbing his large hands with your own and straightening up from your slouched position on the counter. You met his gaze and squeezed his hand, his big hand. He was too big for you, you couldnt get away if he didn't want you to, you would have to be sneaky.
“What has you so deep in thought? Is my ninita daydreaming again?” a grin broke out on his face, showing his pearly canines. You returned the smile with a shaky breath. What were you supposed to do now? He hadn't made any move to hurt you yet, but he certainly could if he wanted to. You sent a glance towards the TV, where the local news was playing, the man left a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder before turning around and picking his knife back up.
Your entire body went frigid at the sight of the tv, you inhaled a small gasp, bringing your hand up to your mouth.
“The body of 31-year-old Miguel O’hara has been found, a resident doctor at the local medical center, any information about the whereabouts of this man’s disappearance should be reported to the authorities. Local police are currently investigating possible causes of death, and are contacting family and loved ones right now. This is Miles Morales with the six O-clock news, stay safe out there.”
Your hands shook violently as a photo of the scene splayed across the screen, it was a bloody mess, an utter monstrosity of a crime scene. The body was blurred completely, probably too gruesome to show on public access news, but you knew it was him, he had those old white shoes from the hospital on, the ones that he wore even though they were battered and covered in holes. And his wedding ring, the one with the tiny stone embedded at the edge of it. That was your dad, that was your fudding dad and he was dead. Mutilated and shown on the news.
You involuntarily let out a whimper at the sight, the hand you had on your face squeezed and shook, trying to keep your composure, keep yourself from sobbing and blowing your cover. You failed miserably, as tears clouded your vision and fell on the countertop. Your irregular breathing and whimpers brought the attention of the man in your kitchen wearing your father's skin, your dead father's skin.
“Ai dios mio- Mija what's wrong? Are you hurt?” immediately the man was on top of you, with his hands running up and down your arms, checking for any possible injuries. He was using that fake worried tone he always did, the one you would usually fall for. The rage that consumed you blurred your vision, that along with the cloudy tears. You smacked his hands off of you, pushing yourself back further onto the countertop. You stared with wide eyes.
“Who the fudd are you? “ You asked, staring at him with those teary eyes of yours, there was a pure hatred laced throughout your expression, his eyes flicked from you with shock as he muttered a small “language”, they then panned to the tv behind. His face slipped from confusion to dread, his eyes went wide and his brows unfurrowed and dropped. His shoulders went completely slack, and he just stood there, waiting for you to make your next move.
“Mija- just listen to me before you do anything stupid- I know it's scary but you need to listen to me for a second” he rushed out, his sweet voice now dripping with fear, why was he scared of all things? He was the one with the advantage. You squirmed back, hopping off the other side of the counter, you continued to back away, eyes staying just as wide.
“You didn't answer my fudding question. Who- Who are you.” He made no move to get closer, only staring at you, so you continued “ Did you- did you kill my dad? My real dad?” The way he tilted his head with those soft eyes of his answered your question enough. Your hands kept shaking, your head kept pulsing with fear, and finally… you let out a piercing scream. One the neighbors were sure to hear.
But in the blink of an eye, he was on top of you.
“Please- please mija. I am your father- your papa. Please, You don't have to be scared of me, I love you- I'll never hurt you.” His hand pressed against your mouth, leaving a white film that held your it completely shut. Your screams were muffled now, but still audible. He had you on the floor, on top of you, his hands pinning you down with his entire strength. You thrashed and looked around for anybody to help, but the more you moved the tighter his hands got. You were shaking, whimpering like a kicked cat.
“I promise you- Prometo mi ninita- I just wanted to protect you, I will never EVER lay harm to you. “ He was deranged, quickly rushing out the words in a panic. You had never seen him so fearful, so desperate, both your father and him. You stopped thrashing, Instead choosing to stare up at him. He was so… scary, now that he wasn't being sweet, now that he was forcing you onto the floor, holding you down. The look in his eyes was terrifying.
All of a sudden it was like you realized the position you were in, he could kill you right now, this imposter could crush your head in his hands and leave like nothing happened, he was going to hurt you. Kill you. Like he did your father. Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god. You were frozen, your hands began to quiver harshly, and tears streamed down your cheeks freely, panic flushed through your veins, overtaking that rage that you previously, pure fear rushed over you entirely. And you couldnt control your body anymore.
You couldnt breathe, or think. Or feel your body, you were overtaken with a fuzzy terrified feeling, your entire body quivered as you stared at him. The film over your mouth certainly wasnt helping, you tried to inhale, but you couldnt, as your vision blurred further. You couldnt feel anything. You hadnt realized you were digging your nails into your skin until there was blood dripping out of your wrists.
“Baby- you need to calm down. Your hurting yourself, you don't have to be scared, I’m not going ot hurt you. Just breathe- Tienes que respirar mija- por favor” The usually completely stoic miguel ohara, the leader of the spiderverse protection program was panicking, more so than he ever had in the past. You were having a panic attack, a bad one, that much was obvious, he had never delt with this before. You kept shaking, his words doing nothing. So he brought his arms around you, hoisting you up to his chest once more. Now it wasnt comforting, now it made you more fearful.
“Shh- I’m here. It's okay- I’m going to calm you down, don't be scared - Youll be okay.” He hushed, before bringing his head to your neck, it left you completely speechless and shocked, before he brought his lips to the nape, and bit down firmly. The tips of his canines dipped in, and the tiniest bit of his venom flushed into your veins.
You were only able to let a small scream out, before the venom overtook your senses. And your quivering figure went slack in his arms. He held you tight, lifting you off the ground entirely and clutching you. He wouldnt let you hurt yourself, he wouldnt let anybody hurt you, he couldnt. He ruined his chances before, He couldnt do it again. Even if you were scared, he would help.
“Lyla?” he spoke to the watch resting around his rist, setting you on his hip in the process. A small “yes sir?” rang out from the device, before he continued “Lets go home, I expect the office is ready for her.” His voice was harsh now, commanding like it should be.
“Yes sir. A-are you sure this is a good idea? She clearly wont be able to handle something like-”
“I’ll take care of it. Just do your job.
Were coming home. finally.”
———————————————————————
This is not very good. But I kinda like it. also MIGUEL OHARA TAKE ME NOW… anyways.
ALSO I COME FROM A HISPANIC FAMILY BUT I USE SPANISH LIKE NEVER SO IT IS NOT GOOD DONT BE MEAN.
Thanks for requesting anon! And thanks for reading! Please don’t be scared to write comments I absolutely love seeing them!
Have a great day! Bye!
#soft yandere#platonic obsession#platonic yandere#yandere platonic#yandere miguel x reader#yandere miguel o'hara#miguel spiderverse#miguel o'hara#miguel x y/n#miguel ohara#miguel spiderman#miguel x reader#miguel x you#yandere miguel#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere platonic x reader#dark Miguel#dark#obsessed#obsessive miguel#protective yandere#yandere daddy
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D&D worldbuilding posit, for all WotC-canon and homebrew games: In days of yore on a plane whose name is forgotten, there was a mighty and much-gloried king called Gi’zhas Kreist. He wanted to be mightier and more-gloried yet, so he made a deal with Asmodeus himself, Lord of all the Hells. Asmodeus gave him the power to build a sprawling, interplanar empire, and promised that his name would be spoken until the end of time.
Gi’zhas Kreist was of course a shit king and an even worse emperor, and was eventually overthrown, his empire pulled down and eroded, all lost to history except maybe the stumped legs of a single statue in a desert somewhere…
And his name, which became and remained a curse throughout all the worlds. Because Asmodeus always follows through, and because Fuck That Guy. So anytime a character, PC or NPC, says something that in English would probably be transliterated as “Jesus Christ”, they are in character, and they won’t know it without a 30+ History check but they’re implicitly saying, “only this dead asshole should have to deal with the bullshit I’m dealing with right now.”
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Be the Light: Pt. 3 (SeongjoongxFem!reader)
Pairing: Hongjoong x Seonghwa x Fem!reader | Side pairing(s): Ateez x Fem!reader.
Word Count: 6k
Genre: angst, fluff, smut
AU: historical!au, arranged marriage!au, royalty!au
Summary: YN has spent her entire life in service of Han Sookmyung, Queen of Hanseong. She never dreamed above her station, or that she'd ever be in reach of Sookmyung's concubines, 'The Golden Ones'. But, when secrets are brought to life, her world is turned upside-down.
Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, heavily referenced torture (briefly), heavily referenced abuse (briefly), heavily referenced sexual abuse (briefly), enslavement, slight gaslighting, lost sibling, political drama, historical drama, joseon!au, concubine!ateez, nsfw content, virgin!reader, polyamory, polygamous, throuple, threesome m/m/f, oral sex (m. and f. receiving/giving), cunnlingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, virgin sex, virginity discussed.
Taglist: @scarfac3 @tunaasan @lelaleleb @sevngmin148 @meljoongiee @puppyminnnie @sunasmoke22 @kyourixr @yoongiigolden @lynnsqueendom @atinycafe @soocore @ethereally-lyann @blackbutterfly133 @ddaeing @pearltinyy @raviollirin
Huge thanks to my lovely beta reader @daesukiii 💕💕
Part 2 < | > Part 4
***
The palace temple was built by the first King of Hanseong, one of Sookmyung’s ancestors, many years ago. Walking through the temple’s zen garden, a small pond area guarded by stone statues of gods, Hongjoong and Seonghwa did not meet anyone during their walk. Hardly anyone visited the palace temple anymore, and since Sookmyung did not care about it, the area became overgrown by wildlife and dense foliage. Both men struggled to find the path at times, and once or twice one of them ran into garden snakes. But, eventually they saw the stone and wood structure in the middle of a clearing. Hongjoong saw a stone buddha statue eroded by age and weather in front of several kneeling cushions on the ground. The place overall carried a tranquil silence that he worried might break at the slightest sound. He’d expected they’d be alone, but he’d been wrong.
Sitting in her usual wheelchair, Queen Mother Jisoo sat with her hands folded over her lap and head bowed in prayer. On a cushion beside her was Chaewon, her handmaiden. This sudden appearance of Sookmyung’s mother raised their suspicions. The small offerings placed in front of the statue implied she visited often, and she appeared entirely at peace. Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa, and saw the caution in his eyes. They walked slowly and quietly behind the two women, taking their own cushions and sitting in silence. Hongjoong wondered how long the pair planned to be here. What if their contact backs away because he saw Jisoo and Chaewon? Then, he’d never learn of their plan. He’d considered leaving and waiting in the bushes before another figure joined them.
Senior Advisor Choi Wonshik. He came unaccompanied this time, in his usual official robes and gat. A quick glance to them with a bow was returned before he took a cushion beside Hongjoong. Another person to scare off his contact. Hongjoong had given Seonghwa a look before Jisoo spoke first.
“What do you pray for, Hongjoong?”
Jisoo’s voice broke the garden’s tranquil silence, as soothing as the water falling into the pond nearby. Hongjoong and Seonghwa looked at one another, then at Wonshik, who smiled serenely with his head bowed. Chaewon showed a similar expression, not looking over at him or anyone else. He thought about what he could possibly say to Sookmyung’s mother. It’d be wrong to tell her ‘your daughter’s downfall’ out loud and to her face.
“For home,” Seonghwa said from beside him.
Hongjoong whipped his head over to him, but Jisoo spoke first. “As do all of us,” she beckoned Chaewon to stand, and the woman moved to turn her chair around and face them. The lines around her mouth and her eyes showed signs of a woman who’d laughed and lived well. Her eyes, while similar to Sookmyung, did not hold viciousness but rather warmth.
She smiled at them both, “This country is my home. I spent many years of my life dedicated to leaving it better than when I first came into power. I pray for its safety and wellbeing every morning, afternoon, and night. I pray that the crops will be fruitful this harvest, and that we will never see another war or famine again. My prayers are the only thing left to me since my daughter was crowned queen.”
“It is the only thing many of us have left,” added Wonshik. “I pray for strength,” he told them, “And for patience. I pray that one day the dignity of The Crown is restored, and that when people see our banners, they do not cower in fear but instead feel comforted.”
“I pray for the good health of the people,” said Chaewon, “And for the protection of my daughter, YN.”
“As we should,” said Wonshik.
Suddenly everything made sense. He looked over at Chaewon, then Wonshik, then at Jisoo.
“We may speak plainly,” Jisoo declared. “I told the guards to leave this place, and this temple has been banned since Sookmyung became queen. This means you can remove those ridiculous veils and let me see your handsome faces."
Tentatively, Hongjoong and Seonghwa removed their veils and Jisoo beamed brightly at them. She examined Seonghwa first, clearly admiring his jawline and wide eyes. Hongjoong saw her nod her head in approval.
"Just as handsome as you are intelligent," she concluded. "One might have thought you'd been sculpted by gods if they saw you."
Seonghwa bowed his head appreciatively. She did the same with Hongjoong, studying his features closely. His cheeks blushed being observed like a painting or statue sold at auction. He looked over to Wonshik, who appeared to be doing the same from where he sat. But, it was Chaewon who spoke.
"He looks like a true prince, doesn't he, Your Majesty?" She grinned fondly.
"No, not a prince," Jisoo said. She met his eyes when she said, "A king."
Her words left him speechless. He eyed her closely, searching for a lie in her face. This woman is Sookmyung’s mother; her being part of a resistance against her sounded too good to be true. Hongjoong never knew Jisoo to scold or criticize her daughter. More often than not, she remained neutral and kept to herself in the palace. Seeing The Queen Mother was rarer than seeing a concubine. He couldn’t imagine her wanting to depose her own child. When she moved away, he spoke.
“What did we meet here for?” he asked her, “To talk of prayers? Changbin’s message mentioned another heir.”
“How can that be?” Seonghwa asked after him.
“Sookmyung has a twin sister.”
The news shocked the two men. “A twin?” Hongjoong furrowed his brow, “Where? How? If there is someone walking around with Sookmyung’s face, then they would’ve been found before now.”
“I married King Siwon when I was nineteen-years-old,” she started. “Being the King, Siwon had a multitude of responsibilities. I only had one: to produce heirs for the throne. I’m sad to say it was the only thing I could not do. Siwon and I spent five years of our marriage trying for a child, and failing. Every pregnancy I did have never carried to term or came out ill and died or was a stillborn,” Hongjoong saw the discomfort in her face speaking about it. “I felt like a failure. I loved Siwon, and I knew how much he wanted a child, and I’d disappointed him. Those snakes at court began whispering that perhaps I was barren or I had a disease preventing me from having a healthy child. I had to do something. I knew if I failed to produce an heir, they might demand an annulment and Siwon and I would be separated forever.”
“So, what did you do?”
“I prayed,” she answered. “I prayed right here in this temple. Chaewon was there,” she lifted a hand which Chaewon took in her own, “And she prayed with me. I prayed for fertility, for a healthy child, and to bring honor to my family. The next time Siwon and I made love, a month later I was declared pregnant. I spent most of my pregnancy bed ridden, since I feared the slightest movement might make me lose the child inside me. The physicians checked on me night and day, giving me herbal teas and acupuncture treatments for the baby. It was a painful experience, but Siwon said the result would be worth the struggle.” She then said, “Then, on the fourteenth night on the eighth moon twenty-four years ago, I finally gave birth to my child. She came into the world crying and screaming, and by all accounts was perfectly healthy. I’d done my duty to my family, and I’d finally gotten the one thing I’d always wanted: a child.
“But then, I felt another pain and the physician said I was going into labor again. Out came a second girl, quieter than the first and whimpering softly, but also completely healthy. Siwon saw the crisis before anyone else did. He said he’d seen dynasties be torn apart by a succession dispute…” she paused, gulping thickly as she said, “And said one of the girls would have to go.”
“What? That’s awful,” said Seonghwa softly. “He forced you to part from your own child to avoid a war over the throne?”
“That’s what he believed he was doing,” she replied. Chaewon put both her hands on Jisoo’s shoulders, and the queen touched one of them still. “I knew he was right. My own family went through a similar struggle when my father died, and I did not wish to see my children be torn apart because of a silly chair. I told my husband I understood his reasoning, but I did not wish to be fully separated from my child. I begged him to let the girl remain in the palace; I told him we can pass her off as somebody’s else’s child, and nobody would have to know outside of a select few. The girls looked nothing alike, so it wasn’t as if anyone would suspect.”
Hongjoong sensed the end of this story, and he couldn’t believe it at all.
“Then, I turned to my closest friend,” she smiled up at Chaewon, “Who’d held my hand throughout my labors and been there every step of the way. She’d suffered similar fertility issues with her husband, who couldn’t produce enough sperm to give her a child. I offered the younger of the two to her,” she looked back at them, “And she’d live as Chaewon and Hyungshik’s daughter instead.”
“YN…” your name escaped his lips softly. “No, that’s…YN and Sookmyung could not be any different from one another. Firstly, their appearances alone are vastly different, and their demeanors…YN, she’s…She’s too sweet to have shared a womb with a monster like Sookmyung. How would you have kept this from other servants? Gossip spreads in this place like wildfire. If Queen Jisoo had two twins, people would have known in seconds.”
“And if Chaewon didn’t have a child one day, was never pregnant, and suddenly produced one,” added Seonghwa, “Might raise suspicions.”
“I told people my husband and I adopted a baby from the city orphanage,” Chaewon said.
“And the only people in the birthing room that night were myself, the king, the physician, Chaewon and Wonshik,” Jisoo replied. “Everyone involved was sworn to secrecy. Physician Yoon passed away some years after the twins’ birth, so it was one less person. Han YN became Park YN, and she has lived as Chaewon and Hyungshik’s adopted daughter ever since. I demanded that YN and Sookmyung live side-by-side like sisters, being companions as children before YN became her handmaiden.”
“It was His Majesty’s wish that YN be educated alongside Sookmyung,” said Wonshik. “I think when Sookmyung’s nature began to show, he started regretting his decision to separate the twins. I suggested he reveal his deception to the people, and claim YN as his daughter, but he refused. He was too proud to admit he’d made a mistake, and too optimistic that Sookmyung’s wild behavior was a phase she’d grown out of in adulthood.”
“He also feared what Sookmyung might do if she found out she had a sister,” Jisoo admitted to them. “You two saw what she’d done to those who had claims to the throne, no matter how distant. I knew telling her would put YN’s life in danger.”
“Then why are you bringing this to light now?” asked Hongjoong, appalled by their confessions. “Sookmyung is the queen. She is the most powerful person in the country. She has men who will torture and kill people at the first word, and will not hesitate to do it herself. She’ll kill YN and get away with it,” he couldn’t keep the panic out of his voice. “We can’t let anyone else know. If Sookmyung should ever think YN is-”
“-Sookmyung needs to be stopped,” Jisoo cut him off firmly. “I love my daughter. I have loved her despite her faults and wrongdoings. I did my best to raise her to be a proper lady of the realm, and prepare her for her ascension. But, I must accept the truth: my daughter is not the person I’d hoped she’d become.”
“She never was,” said Wonshik. “Ever since her girlhood, Queen Sookmyung has been vicious, manipulative, aggressive and cruel. You cannot deny this, Your Majesty,” he told her, “I told your husband that naming Sookmyung his heir would be a mistake.”
“Then who would he have named? His incompetent brother? His people-pleasing sister?” she snapped at him. “I don’t know if you remember, Senior Advisor, but my daughter had most of my husband’s family killed during the war. There are so few claimants left, and they’d be too frightened to challenge Sookmyung.” She turned back to Hongjoong, “YN is our only hope at saving this kingdom from open warfare.”
“Warfare? Do you believe the rebels are strong enough to engage?” asked Seonghwa, sitting back on his haunches and putting a hand to his chin thoughtfully. “From what I’ve always understood the rebel forces to be ill equipped and nothing more than commoners with pitchforks?”
“And that is the exact image we want Sookmyung to have,” Wonshik told him. “I can assure you that the rebels are more than farmers and fishermen. Her Majesty and I have managed to rally some supporters from the other cities. Daegu, Jeonju, and Pyongyang have all given their support to our cause, and minor lords in Gangwon-do and Jeju-do gave theirs as well. I have close friends here at court who will be on YN's side when we finally usurp Sookmyung.”
“It will not be an easy transition, Senior Advisor,” said Seonghwa. “The people only know Sookmyung; they do not know YN. If they hear she is a twin, they may assume she shares Sookmyung’s behaviors. I don’t know if you’re aware, sir, but Sookmyung forces YN to participate in the torture and abuse a majority of the time. It’s a strange intimacy the both of them have. They might believe she’s the same or worse.”
“Which is why we must show them that YN is tender-hearted and gentle,” he replied. “Have her go into the city, meet her people and speak to them face-to-face. Reinstate the protection laws and charities Sookmyung banned or removed. She can repair damages done across the kingdom and lower taxation and those ridiculous tributes Sookmyung demands. The people will see that she is vastly different from their previous queen.”
“And she’ll have something Sookmyung has not had in the eight years of her reign,” said Jisoo. “The thing her advisors have hounded her about for years.”
“What?”
“A husband,” she eyed Hongjoong when she said this. “Not only a husband, but a husband who’d been a prince of Wonju, the rebel base and rallying point of the rebellion.”
“Should peace be restored, I’d return to Wonju to rule,” said Hongjoong. “My whole family is dead. There’d be nobody to take my place.”
“That is not entirely true, young prince,” Wonshik said. “There is your cousin, Jeongin.”
“Jeongin?” He lifted an eyebrow. Hongjoong remember his youngest cousin, and said, “He was killed by Sookmyung’s guards the day they sacked the city.”
“No, he wasn’t,” he said. “Wonju loyalists managed to smuggle him out right as the fighting began. He has been living in the countryside ever since. The people in charge of him have been preparing him to be your steward in Wonju. You would be here with YN, ruling at her side, while giving him control of Wonju in your place.” When he saw Hongjoong’s hesitation, he added, “Jeongin is the same kind, caring boy you remember. He would make a great steward.”
“And it’d rebuild the alliance Wonju and Hanseong once had,” said Jisoo. “I don’t believe Wonju’s bannermen would agree to any ties with Hanseong without a marriage pact. Even if you have not been in Wonju, the people there still stand with you, Hongjoong. You are their king. You can be my daughter’s king consort, be at her side and guide her.” She then grinned slyly, "Unless you do not want her?”
"Of course I do," he blurted out without thinking. "I mean, I do like her. I think YN could be a good queen with the right counsel, but Sookmyung…"
Hongjoong did not want to imagine what horrors she'd have in store for you. Sookmyung held you very close to her heart. Should she believe you're conspiring against her, she'll see it as the deepest of betrayals. Hongjoong refused to let her dangle you from a ceiling or shove you in a horrific box. He'd kill her before he let that happen.
"What are your plans for Sookmyung?" Seonghwa asked when Hongjoong failed to respond.
"She will be arrested and put on trial," said Wonshik
"On what charges?"
"Crimes she committed during the war," he explained. "The murder and torture of prisoners of war, purposefully attacking civilian towns and taking hostages are only a few named."
"You cannot arrest a queen."
"You can if she has been deposed," he corrected him. "If the council decides Sookmyung is unfit as queen, she will be replaced by YN, therefore removing her titles. Up until now, most of the officials feared retaliation from her for speaking out, but I have convinced the Head Advisors to join me."
"Is she not supposed to be there when the ruling is made? That is part of the law."
"Smart boy," Wonshik smiled at him, "But there is a loophole in this law."
"Is there?"
"The ruling monarch does not have to be present for every council meeting," he said, "And Sookmyung never comes to any of them. We always come to decisions on our own, and present them to her for approval."
"And this ruling can be made during one of these meetings," concluded Seonghwa. "She will not go quietly, you know. She will try to flee."
"We have no doubt about that," he replied. "Do not worry. I have many things in place to make sure she is detained."
"And when is this supposed to happen?"
"Tonight."
"Tonight? So soon? Why?"
"Because it is crucial we do it as soon as possible," he said. “Her Majesty will set up a place for Sookmyung to be, we will wait until she is unsuspecting, and then confront her. We will have supporters around us to step in if need be.”
"The only person we are waiting on is you, Your Grace," Jisoo said to him gently. "Will you accept my daughter’s hand in marriage and be her king consort? Help us reunite the kingdoms and restore peace?"
His eyes began to sting. Nobody had called him 'Your Grace' in a very long time. He didn't think he'd ever be called that again. Thinking deeply, Naeun came to mind. If he refused, everything she suffered would be for nothing. He remembered her lifeless body laying on the hard straw, broken bones protruding from her skin and her eye swollen shut. She died with the hope that one day her home will be as she remembered. Hongjoong then thought of you. As your king consort, he could be around you whenever he liked. He could speak to you, laugh with you, kiss and hold you the way he dreamed. You would be his, and you could restore the kingdom together.
"Yes," he nodded. "Yes, I will."
For home.
****
"-He kept crying all the way back," she huffed. "I thought, being a man, that he'd have a higher tolerance for it."
You knelt at Sookmyung’s side by the low dining table. The afternoon light shone in through the open windows, their borders creating shapes on the floors. Along with it came a cool spring breeze that kissed your warm cheeks. You hated it when Sookmyung recounted her nights in the dungeon. It sickened your stomach, and only brought on more haunting visions. You laddled egg soup into a bowl for her, stirred it around a few times, then placed it in front of her.
“You’re a woman and you have a stronger stomach than him,” she said, spooning soup into her mouth.
“I am sure Hongjoong was only overwhelmed by experiencing so much so quickly,” you told her. You sliced toasted bread, putting a small pot of honey and jaw in front of her. “You should have started small, perhaps The Box or The Bull. You know, an act he doesn’t see but hears instead. It lets his mind fill in the blank spaces.”
“Hm,” she mused, sipping more soup from her bowl, “I suppose you’re right. I may have been a bit hasty in my excitement to show him the chamber. I thought…” she hesitated, “I thought he might understand. I thought he’d enjoy it the way we do.” She pondered over her soup, pushing the strings of egg with her spoon. “I was wrong.” You saw her fingers grip the spoon tightly, her eyes narrowed at the bowl as it’d wronged her.
“Things like the dungeon take a bit of getting used to,” you told her. “I am sure with time, he will come to enjoy it with you.”
You sat back on your legs and watched her eat. Your own stomach growled quietly, and rumbled in your gut the longer you lingered on the food. The porridge you’d eaten this morning had since been digested, and left you hungry again. You did not know what plans Sookmyung had for the day, since she never concerned herself with the day-to-day work of a queen. The advisors usually held meetings in the morning, then approached her with their decisions some time in the day. Having started her day late, you’re sure they’ll wait until much later to discuss any rulings they’ve made. A part of you believed the council made decisions and put them into action without Sookmyungs’s knowledge sometimes. It is not as if she cared anyway.
“You’re the only person I can share my chambers with,” she said. “You’re the only one who understands.”
Unfortunately, she was right. While Sookmyung’s ‘experiments’ and ‘delights’ haunted your dreams and churned your stomach, you’d begun to understand why she must hurt others. It made sense when you thought about it. Relishing in the pain of others gave her a gratification she couldn’t find anywhere else. Hurting them, controlling when the pain began and ended simulated a power reserved for gods, and not men. You often stood by as she forcibly shoved a man into a box full of venomous scorpions and spiders, and saw the glee in her face. You’d see her carve a man’s face off to place maggots on the red flesh, then stand to watch him writhe in agony. It was abhorrent to anyone else. It was fun for Sookmyung. The fact that her treasured flower did not revel in the torture with her must’ve upset her deeply. Hongjoong having cried at whatever befell the assassin angered Sookmyung. Watching her stir her soup around before eating it, you worried she might decide she no longer wants Hongjoong.
He may end up in The Box next.
“Will you take him back there?” you asked her, pouring milk into a cup for her to drink.
“I wanted to, but the assassin died in the night,” she scoffed. She ate another piece of kimchi, chewing on the fermented vegetable before saying, “You should have seen her, YN. I think you would have admired her resistance.”
“Did she reveal any information to you?”
“No,” she shook her head, “Those rebel bastards should start finding smarter people. The guards say they found her climbing over the garden wall, waiting in the trees by the corner. You’d think an assassin might be smarter than that.”
“Hubris,” you said, “That was her mistake.”
She grinned, “And stupidity. What made her think she could ever possibly put her knife to my throat?”
“Pride or desperation. One of the two, I suspect.”
Sookmyung then changed to another topic, a smirk lifting a corner of her mouth, “You never answered me last night.”
“Your Majesty?” you dug your nails into your skirt. Another test was coming, you knew it.
“I asked if San was your type.”
“I told you he was not, Your Majesty.”
Your cheeks burned recalling the previous night. You are certain Sookmyung had no intention of letting you lay with one of her flowers. She only wanted to embarrass you further in front of people. Like with her victims, she controlled your life. She’d also control any lover you took up. She’d kill them if she didn’t approve.
“YN, I cannot find you a proper husband unless you tell me,” she said irritably. She then sneered, “Or, maybe, you don’t like men at all.”
“Wha-what?” your eyes widened at the implication, and you shook your head. “Your Majesty, I assure you I do prefer me-”
“-There is nothing wrong with liking the same sex, YN. There are places all over the world where women couple with women,” she cupped your chin so you looked at her. Her thumb traced your bottom lip line as she said, “I sometimes wish I’d been the boy my father had wanted. Then, this marriage situation could be easily solved.” She moved away from her bowl to sit closer to you. You shivered as her fingers pushed stray strands of hair away, “I could marry the prettiest, loveliest woman I know, and make her mine.” When you looked away in embarrassment, she cackled, “Such a flustered little virgin. There is so much you do not know.”
“Your Majesty…”
“It’s sweet.”
The sound of footsteps made you jump away from her, but she stayed in place. A knock on the door made her grunt frustratedly.
“Go see who it is, YN,” she said, “Then tell them to leave. We have places to be later, and I need to get dressed.”
You were all too eager to go. You are not a naive child. You know women can be romantic with other women; there is nothing wrong with that. You’d seen Sookmyung nude many times over the course of your servitude, and you wouldn’t say she was ugly by any means. Any true naive person would think she is a goddess with her slender curves and hips. The only problem for you was that said woman is sadistically evil. You reached the door, and slid it open to reveal your mother and Queen Jisoo.
“Your Majesty,” you said, heat rising in your cheeks again as you bowed, “Good afternoon. What brings you here?”
“My daughter,” she replied stiffly. “Is she finally awake?”
“She is,” you nodded, “But she has a busy schedule ahead of her, so she must be getting dressed now.”
“Psh, as if that will stop me,” she replied. “Chaewon, wheel me in.”
With a beckoning gesture over her shoulder, your mother wheeled Jisoo into the room where Sookmyung sat on cushions by the low breakfast table. You trailed behind, not meeting her eyes, and remaining silent.
“Good afternoon, Mother,” Sookmyung said with a false grin, “I hope you’re feeling better. YN was just telling me you hadn’t eaten much yesterday.” A lie that Queen Jisoo did not believe for a second.
“I am, darling daughter,” she said, “But my health is not why I’ve come here. I am here to tell you that you are to clear your afternoon schedule today.”
“Why is that?”
“I have invited lords from Daegu, Jeonju, and Pyongyang as well as sons of your bannermen to our banquet pavilion today. It is about time you stopped fiddling with those poor concubines of yours and settled down with a husband.”
Sookmyung glared at her, “I do not want a husband.”
“I’m afraid that your wishes are no longer a concern to anyone. You are a queen, and a queen must have a king.”
“I do not want a king.”
“Why? Because then you’d have to actually share your power with someone? Because there will finally be someone restraining these ghastly, deviant urges of yours?” her mother accused. “I have made excuses for your behavior for years and years, Sookmyung. When people at court called you improper and promiscuous, I told them you shared your father’s fiery passion. When they said your conquest brought nothing but poverty to your people, I said that you united the kingdoms under one rule and brought forth strength to our armies. Even when you rebuilt the dungeons, to toy and defile people you deemed criminals, I told them that you were passionate about justice.” You heard the frustration rising in her voice, and flaring in her dark eyes. “People have begun to talk, Sookmyung. They say that one day soon, you’ll become pregnant with an illegitimate child and bring shame to our throne.”
“Who cares?” Sookmyung groaned, “Any child I bare would have my blood. Why would that make them unworthy?”
“Because a bastard has never sat on our throne-”
“-I don’t want them, so why does this matter?”
Jisoo sighed, “Sookmyung, I understand your hesitancy to marry. I had my reservations when my mother approached me, but I made it work. I did my duty to my country and my family.” Her eyes shifted over to you, sad and full of regret. It struck you as strange. “But, in order for our family to continue, you must produce a legitimate child. A child of royal, noble blood.”
“I hate children,” she spat, glaring back at her mother, “They’re whiny, snotty, and annoying.”
“You’ll feel differently when you have a child of your own.”
Sookmyung then gave her mother a grin that unsettled you. It was the same mischievous smile she’d given when she misbehaved. She stood up from her seat, and said, “But, what if I have found true love at last, Mother? What if I have found someone I wish to spend my life with?”
“You-You have? Who?” the queen asked, shocked.
Sookmyung moved over to you, standing behind you with arms around your waist. She placed her head on your shoulder as she said, “YN.”
Jisoo scoffed, “Oh please, Sookmyung. You cannot marry YN; she is a woman.”
“Women marry women all the time, Mother, when they marry the same husband,” she said. “YN and I can marry the same man and he can give her children instead.”
“As true as that may be, our clan has never indulged in such practices,” she said. “Besides, any child YN has will be considered…” she searched for the words, “Hers. Not yours. You are the queen, so it is your children who should-”
“-I am aware of how succession works, Mother!” Sookmyung snapped, her voice pinching your eardrum. “I have told you explicitly time and time again that I do not wish to have children or to marry. YN is perfect for it. If I marry her, her children will also be considered my children.”
“Should you marry a woman, it cannot be YN,” her mother said.
“Why not?”
“She is your handmaiden, love. She is not…” she paused again, “She is not suitable for you. She is not of noble blood.”
“Psh, wow,” Sookmyung snorted, “I thought I could be cruel. Did you hear that, Chaewon? My mother thinks your daughter is unworthy of me.”
“My daughter is a servant, Your Majesty,” your mother told her. “She’ll be marrying someone of her station like a stableboy or a blacksmith. A woman of your rank, Your Majesty, should be marrying a fine lord or a prince.”
“There are no princes left, you fool,” Sookmyung sniped at her.
“There would be if you hadn’t slain them all,” interjected Jisoo. “Enough of this foolishness. You will come to the pavilion today and greet your suitors. I give you until the end of the day to make a decision. If you do not choose one, I will choose one for you,” she said sternly.
“You wouldn’t-”
“-I would,” she cut her off. “This childish behavior of yours is coming to an end. You have been a queen for eight years, and have not even considered any suitors for yourself, so I must do it for you. I am giving one chance. If not, consider yourself lucky that you have not been dethroned.”
“You bitch!”
Sookmyung grabbed a small ceramic vase and flung it in the queen’s direction. Jisoo shielded her face in time to avoid any serious damage, but you still saw the disbelief in her eyes.
“I hate you!” Sookmyung grabbed another object, this time a small dish, which was dodged when your mother pulled Jisoo away. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”
“Your Majesty, please!”
You managed to grab her wrist in time to stop her from taking up a third object, which gave your mother time to wheel Jisoo away. “You can throw tantrums all you want,” Jisoo called from nearby, “You will get married or live to regret it.”
“What did you say, you-”
You kept Sookmyung from following her mother out by the waist. “Your Majesty,” you called over her grunting and growling, “Please enough. You will only make things worse for yourself.”
“For myself?” she twisted out of your grasp and turned on you, “I am the queen, you idiot! What sort of consequences could I face? What can that old, useless woman do to me?”
“I-I don’t know-”
“-You never know anything,” she hissed. “Just as stupid as you look. I am the queen. Nobody can touch me. Nobody can make me do anything I don’t want to do. I don’t have to marry anyone. I don’t have to have children. I don’t have to do anything that those stupid, old men in the council want me to do.”
“They only have the country’s best interest at heart,” you explained, keeping your hands together to stop them shaking. “They’re not doing it to hurt you or make you unhappy. Having a child would ensure your family name and legacy continues onward,” you took a moment to think, then said, “How can you make sure your dungeons and practices remain in place if somebody else takes up the throne? With a child of your own, you can make sure they share the same beliefs as you about crime and punishment.”
“I hate children,” she gruffed.
“You don’t have to like them. You don’t even have to take care of them; you can have a wet nurse look after them for you. You only have to have them.”
“I don’t want to marry any of those men.”
“I’m afraid it must be one of them.”
Sookmyung’s palm collided with your cheek sharply. The pain burned on your skin, but you did not dare flinch or wince in front of her. “You do not get to tell me what I can and can’t do,” she snarled. “I do. I am the queen." She smacked you again, “Say it. Say I am the queen.”
“You are the queen,” you squeaked.
“And you are my slave.”
“And I am your slave.”
Sookmyung smacked your other cheek, then grabbed you by the collar of your jacket. “I should throw you in that chamber. I think you’d remember who you are after a few days in there.”
Your eyes stayed on hers, and you trembled in her grasp. She could do it. You knew she could. For the briefest moment, you saw yourself laying nude in The Box, screaming and clawing at the wooden door as insects and arachnids crawled all over you.
“But no,” she released you and stepped away, “You’re not hard-headed like the other idiots around here. Dress me, and then we can meet these stupid suitors.”
“You…You will meet them then?”
“Might as well,” she shrugged. “Maybe we can find a husband we both like.”
“Both of us? Your Majesty,” you followed her to the bedroom, “None of those men would want to marry me. I am a servant.”
“You’re my servant,” she noted. “If they marry me, they’re marrying you too.” She held her arms behind her back so you may untie and remove her robe for her.
You gingerly touched your left cheek, and felt a small welt where her ring struck you. It pinched when you touched it. “What about your flowers? If you marry, you may not be allowed to have them.”
“I’m never giving them up,” she said, “Not for anyone. I worked too hard to obtain them.”
“Your husband may not like that and dismiss them from the palace. As king consort, he’d be allowed that right.” You’ll admit, you liked the idea of her flowers being set free. They’d all be able to live the lives they’ve always wanted freely and happily.
“I’d kill my flowers before I let anyone else take them from me,” she said. “Grab the red and gold dress.”
“Shall I call in the others?”
“No. I can’t stand them.”
“As you wish.”
“Because I am the queen.”
“Because you are the queen,” you repeated, giving a nod of your head before disappearing into the nearby closet.
In the privacy of the walk-in closet, you pretended to search the shelves for the appropriate box. Sookmyung kept all her hanboks in boxes with their descriptions on the side. You already knew where her regal dress was, but did not reach for the box. Your back pressed into the opposite shelf and you took deep, silent breaths. Heart pounding in your chest, you tried your best to calm it before Sookmyung heard you. Like a feral animal, she grew tense the second she sensed fear. You hated this feeling, but it came regardless. You hated that your life was at her mercy.
One mistake, one false word, and she’d throw you into a torture cell.
***
A/N: The conspirators have finally met!! I am so happy you guys are enjoying this fic so far. I know it's complex and elaborate, but I really love historical dramas and period pieces, so I wanted to write one for ateez. Please, as always, feel free to like, reblog, and comment <3
Also, sorry if some tags aren't tagging. Idk why.
#ateez#ateez fanfic#ateez fanfiction#ateez x reader#matz x reader#kim hongjoong#park seonghwa#hongjoong ateez#seonghwa ateez#ateez hongjoong#ateez seonghwa#hongjoong x reader#seonghwa x reader#pirateeznet
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More vessel biology headcanons?
Vessels are actually really, really good at burrowing. It’s probably how so many escaped the abyss after they got sealed. They got it from both parents, and the void. Which per my silly little brain, can old be contained in round glass.
the void basically erodes/decays things in fast forward otherwise?
Vessels all have one major flaw or imperfection the void couldn’t remove, THKs was either a desire for perfection or being able to make familial bonds.
Ghosts flaw is an endless well of willpower. They will never, ever, stop. They inherited from their mothers conceptual side, because their will is the slow burrowing of roots through stone and the deceptively gentle trickle of water on metal. Greenpath vessels was a sense of adventure/desire to explore. And the nosk vessels all had a sense of longing for companionship which led to their deaths.
The vessels also seem to have physical flaws too? Like structurally I mean. The prime example is THKs missing arm, in the pure vessel boss fight that same arm is what they use for the void tendrils attack and by the time we fight them in the egg it’s entirely rotted off. I think it honestly was never as strong or stable as the other arm and was bound to be lost eventually. Broken Vessels flaw would be their third horn(the one that’s broken off).
Vessels actually do still have some of their own light, you can see this in game actually—even without the lantern you give off a subtle glow. I think that some vessels actually retained some of the godly light and status they otherwise would have had, only a little though.
The above idea comes from my headcanon that Wyrms specifically are really resistant to void as far as gods go, because they always dig deep and far and in that sometimes burrow into pockets of void far below the surface. They need to be able to survive contact with it in the short term at least. This nature would explain how some vessels retain minute traces of light, and why the pale king was the one actually standing at the mouth of the abyss waiting for vessels.
given time, soul, and light a vessel can grow to enormous sizes- or eventually metamorphose into a wyrm proper. Albeit one still tarnished by the void
in fact I wonder if any of the seeds/eggs dropped into the abyss hatched young Wyrms instead of vessels? Maybe they escaped or something? I don’t think this is likely but it’s a cool idea.
vessels are deceptively light, as in like hornet could carry THK on her back if she needed to- they’re literally hollow in a way
Void and water don’t mix, it’s like oil and water. That’s why we float in the blue lake.
The void itself might be the remnants of an ancient sea that covered the world beyond Hallownest before the age of bright gods. It would explain the trilobite creature we see in deepnest and the way the abyss and the rest of Hallownest appear to be made of fossilized shells. Plus if it’s the remnants of the sea then it could be something like a microbial mat that’s really toxic to life? Like maybe it’s a magic microbial soup? Magic microbial goop even. Vessels are goop.
Vessels are really really strong compared to other ways of containing things, like THK held the radiance for a long ass time. If a vessel tried to contain a weaker god they’d probably just be able to tbh. Like anything weaker than the nightmare heart if probably fair game for yoinking.
Vessels also sometimes inherit the hunger of Wyrms, and looking into their eyes gives the sensation of falling into the maw of some great beast. Godseaker did call Little Ghost a wielder of nail and eater of soul
Vessels are also really susceptible to outside influences, kinda like evee if they were Pokémon. This is how Ghost can use so many charms at once but also why said charms can change them so easily.
Theoretically a vessel raised by or containing a god could take on some of their traits-either by force or by accident.
Unrelatedly THK has a voice to cry out with…
I think radiance may have eventually tried turning them into something more like Grimm is for the heart, a body for her to use and a mind thoroughly broken to her will.
after-all she shines brightest against the darkness…
If they could eat, Vessels would have a truly remarkable number of tastebuds, because Wyrms will eat anything and I feel like the white lady has ways to “taste” the soil to see if it’s nutrient rich and has fertilizer.
man I’m just realizing, vessels would like some weird food, they’d definitely eat dirt
THK crunching on crystals?? Likely
Finally the horns of vessels are actually their “branches” and will keep growing indefinitely unless trimmed or broken periodically, this comes from both parents. Wyrms need to constantly replace burrowing teeth and Roots are beings of constant growth and pruning.
#wow that was long#hollow knight#hk vessels#speculative biology#headcanon#pure vessel#little ghost#hk pale king#what do you think?
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I haven't peeped much of it, but I did see people calling Sejanus a spoiled kid and I'm like I LOVE HIM EVEN MORE BC HE IS A SPOILED KID AND HE DIDN'T KNOW HUNGER AND HE STILL KNOWS THAT KEEPING THE STATUS QUO ISN'T THE WAY TO GO.
the empathy of this man
especially when you compare him to mf Coriolanus Snow who KNOWS hunger and STILL thinks people deserve this because they're not people but animals
the parallels between those two; Sejanus, kind because of his nature and nurturing of his mother, ten years in the Capitol and not letting those bullies erode his soul, not letting them harden him, he does NOT betray his kindness even as it could help him integrate better, no, he chooses loneliness no matter what over spoiling his soul
and over there is Coriolanus Snow, who does EVERYTHING for image and status, who fake befriends people on the basis of how they benefit him, having poor Tigris, the literal kindest baby, try to nurture him and pull something good out of him, and she just.. fails
and like, yes, Snow had trauma. but sorry it doesn't excuse becoming a dictator
Sejanus, too, had trauma. they all went through war. while, yes, Sejanus had food to eat, he was plagued by loneliness and guilt all his life and let me remind you this is a KID
people expecting him to be crafting plans just don't get it. he's a teenager that feels guilty as fuck and wants at least a few people to do better if he can't save everyone. because he can't, he can't stand by and watch more cruelties until he MAYBE inherits his father's money. and then what? he's not the only rich person in the Capitol.
either way, it's unlikely he could have led some revolutionary rebellion (he certainly had the grit and passion, though) because he had no backing and the ONE person who he trusted was a mf SNAKE and was actively sabotaging him
where was he gonna get allies for a rebellion? Capitol where he was hated because he wasn't like them? District 2 where he was hated because he didn't belong to them either? District 12 where he was a Peacekeeper, the police of the Capitol?
he was doomed from the start. he was too good and he couldn't play the long game because he was feeling so powerfully about everything and was NOT calculating like Snow. he was not the strategist Snow was.
he was a smart, kind, lonely boy who wanted to do good.
#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#tbosas#sejanus plinth#coriolanus snow#sejanus deserved better#he could have used his aim skill on coryo#but that boy would have never#had the fattest most unfortunate crush#and couldn't stomach anything like that#what a fucking duo they could have been#changing panem with kindness and wit and wickedness but for the right things#alas it was not to be#bc snow is a mf SNAKE ��#and only knows self-preservation#selfishness. arrogance. status#this is pretty unserious but also it's quite amazing to me how people can blame sejanus in any way
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Ferelden: Redcliffe - Future
Main quest: In Hushed Whispers
As we explore the castle and save our companions from the future, we explore corridors with a series of statues that make little sense. It only seems to be reasonable once we learn this future has no Veil, and this is how it looks like the Waking World with the Fade, fused one another, under the god Corypheus. I imagine the corridors reflect or have elements from the Fade, or from what the Fade reflects of this place.
This post has compiled the most relevant information during the main quest for completion’s sake. These quests have little “archaeological” value, but since I’m visually covering the majority of the game, I can’t put them aside since there are some exceptions, such as the Temple of Mythal.
[This is part of the series “Playing DA like an archaeologist”]
Along the corridors of the Redcliffe Castle, we find andrastian statues such as maferath crying on the sword [1], andraste variations [1], the Man holding bigger head [2], Tevinter diapason-like artefacts [3], and alamarri mabaris clipped with skulls [4,5]
Avvar heads [1], Tevinter banenrs with glyphs [2], strange clipping combinations of different assets to pretend to create a new one [3], sacrificial altars [3,5,6], dragon gargoyles [4], more Tevinter artefacts [7] and classic keepers of fear [8].
More artefacts appear by the end of the castle: upside-down artefact of Temple of Dumat [1], torture devices [2], more avvar heads or Eroded dragon skull [3], Maferath statues and Keepers of Fear [4], Andraste in Ferelden style [5] and Free Marches statues with alamarri mabaris clipped with skulls [6].
I found it curios that this universe is an abomination in Solas’ opinion, so I guess he has in mind something different for the future of Thedas when he destroys the Veil.
Trying to reach the outside of the castle, we see more of these strange clipped statues and in the darkest corner, we see the unusual statue of Beheaded ram-man.
Some rooms display Andraste iconography of her life and more Ferelden items. In this case, they display Templar rugs. Rugs are something to question, since we keep seeing Inquisition rugs and carpets in places where there is no way they could be there. So in general, my conclusion about rugs is not to pay them too much attention, so maybe I may have done a mistake in Emerald Graves: Din'an Hanin with doing such a extreme analysis over a damned rug, lol.
We find the codex A prayer, where we are again suggested to connect darkness with Blight. There is an implication that the Old Gods were gods at some point, but not anymore, and the Maker was always invented. One can suspect this prayer is based on Corypheus’ knowledge shared to his subjects.
The art of clipping artefacts: diapason-like artefacts in combination with a sacrificial altar and some red lyrium. In this room there are Tevinter urns too.
We see again Man holding bigger head statue and two stylised dogs, both Orlesian statues.
Here we find an angry Leliana, changed and transformed due to the torture. We learn she is also immune [or resistant] to Red Lyrium, like Seekers are. This implies lore-wise that Leliana may have been touched by a spirit at some point in her life.
Once more, we have another character in DA series who speaks this line so similar to Flemeth/Myhtal: “I’ve suffered, the whole world suffered. It was real”
Red Lyrium
When we meet Fiona, we see she is half a vein of red lyrium. Later, we see Templar in similar ways along the castle. A creature become a vein of red lyrium just by exposure. This implies that the spread of the Red Lyrium has doom connotations. So far, we don’t know how to rend it inert, and it infects by mere exposure, living creatures as well as objects. It’s a disease even worse than the Blight which can be contained if living creatures are blocked from an area.
We are given several bits of info about the nature of the red lyrium. Dorian question if it’s a disease as the Blight, that only affects living creatures. This red lyrium seems to affect things and objects as well, growing out of them.
Exterior
Now, having the interpretation of this statue of the Faceless figure holding a crown as the Maker, makes this cinematic angle even more dramatic, with a gigantic Andraste, shattered, trying to reach down to the Maker.
Solas informs us that there is no Veil in this world, so all the non-physical situations we are seeing, the nonsense of the statues in the corridors seem to be justified.
Now without Veil, we make sense of the mixed sculptures we saw in the corridors, reflection and reality overlapping each other. As we go up looking for Alexius, we keep seeing strange statues, like Keepers of fear
We reach to a place where we can explore more corridors heading to Alexis. This particular set seems to be carefully done to imply something: The Maker with red Lyrium, the Andraste warrior, the Blocky bearded humanoid [which seems to be in the shadows] and this Adonis human statue.
When we reach Alexius’ chamber, we see an Elven Ancient Shard-based door. It’s impossible to know if it was taken from an ancient tomb or its a reflection of the Fade and overlapped with the reality. Curiously, this door requires red lyrium-based shards.
#playing DA like an archaeologist#Tevinter objects#Elven Ancient shard-based door#blocky bearded humanoid#andraste#red lyrium#Faceless figure holding a crown#stylised dogs#Man holding bigger head#Tevinter urns#sacrificial altar#Beheaded ram-man#mabari statues#Eroded dragon skull#Artefact of Temple of Dumat#tevinter design#ferelden design#tevinter artefacts#andrastian design#dragon gargoyles#main quest#Keepers of Fear
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"in another life, i would've really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you"
synopsis !! all the opportunities he didn't take! forbidden love, status differences, different life goals, missed chances
characters !! zhongli, thoma
note !! please please read thoma's part I really like it for some reason- also everything everywhere all at once was amazing, i loved every second of it and it was just so beautiful! i also love all the cultural references aaaah
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Z H O N G L I
"Live a human life with me," You had once suggested to Rex Lapis, lounging on a floating island and watching the construction of what would eventually be known as Liyue Harbor.
He turns to you, confused look on his face, "A human life? Honestly, your ideas only develop in oddity over time."
You laugh, shrugging as the wind chimes along with you. Did Barbatos find it amusing as well?
"I'm being serious, Morax! The war is over, peace is settling, any issues can be handled by the humans and we can always guide them from a distance." You smile, "Live a human life with me. We can open a teahouse by the outskirts, we can visit the harbor on weekends, we can age ourselves and spend a human's lifetime together!"
He sighs, turning away, "I'll amuse you and visit you in my human form, but I have responsibilities I wish to take as their archon. You can play human without me."
"Aww, Morax-"
He rolls his eyes, amused, "Human lives are so fickle and short. Should you ever get tired of living their ways, you're welcome to join me in the skies again."
"Hmp. You might just regret not trying with me." You tease, and you—
Were right. He did regret it, because there was no time left for him to try with you. You were gone, eroded like the old immortals, withered in a grave like a human. The immortality of gods like you and him was never physical after all, and your body decayed too soon.
"So, finally decided to join the bandwagon, huh?" Venti grins at the geo archon, sipping from his drink of what's presumably wine. The teahouse is half full, a known heritage site for anyone who knows the history of good Liyuen tea.
"It's an interesting idea." Zhongli simply replies.
"And how are you finding the human life, my dear friend?"
"Strangely. . . I had expected it to be a sociable endeavor," He smiles, strained, "but it could also feel quite lonely."
T H O M A
Doing laundry and taxes with Thoma was impossible in the first place. Not when you were destined to marry someone of the same status; a political engagement which tied you down since the day you turned of age.
For you, this was an unbearable tragedy. The denial of being with someone you love.
For Thoma, this was as simple as nature's course. Of course you would marry a noble! He's simply a commoner, a mere house worker with the favor of his boss. It wouldn't make sense for you to marry him.
And perhaps that's why it infuriated you; how dare he think so little of himself?
"I just don't understand why you're not mad about this! I'm about to be married and you— you won't say anything about that?" You once yelled, frustration built to its peak at his nonchalance.
"(Name)," Thoma says softly, concerned.
"No, don't you start!" You cut off swiftly, "You'll only talk about how you're a commoner and I'm a noble and I'm sick of that! I'm sick of all of it!"
"I just don't know what you want me to say–"
"Say you love me! Ask me to run away!" The words are desperate on your tongue. "Archons, Thoma, I wish you could be more selfish. I'd give it all up for you." You sob, collapsing onto the wooden floor as your legs give out. He immediately kneels in front of you, ready to embrace.
In quiet whispers, he cups your face, brushing tears away with his thumb, "You know I can't ask that of you."
You sniffle, "I know, I know." and "I just wanted you to try."
#genshin#genshin impact#zhongli#zhongli x reader#thoma#thoma x reader#genshin angst#genshin x reader#genshin zhongli#genshin thoma#zhongli angst#thoma angst#genshin fanfic#genshin angst/comfort
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