#how tragic to be gifted with so much yet have such tragic fate when it comes to love
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The Mentor pt.3
Finnick Odair x Reader
Summary: A morning chat at the train station proves very revealing for you and Finnick.
Warnings: mention of forced prostitution and mild self-harm
part two | part four
The marble steps you sit on are practically ice, and the cold seeps quickly through your pants. The train station is entirely empty, and you sit outside of it looking out at the city.
Knees up to your chest, you take a deep breath. The roses you clutch in your icy fingers seem to taunt you, and once you look at them, you can't pull your eyes away. A beautiful gift belying your tragic fate.
You set all but one down beside you, then start to pick at its petals. Completely transfixed, you don't even hear the sounds of someone approaching until you drop the last petal.
"What'd you land on?"
The words break your focus, and you quickly gaze up to find who interrupted you. Finnick interprets your gaze as a confused one and elaborates, "Loves you/loves you not?"
That's not why you were picking the petals, but if you had been asking the flower, it would've been about him. The thought is embarrassing, so you give a half-hearted shrug and look away.
"Well, I got these for you," he holds out a small, far more rustic bouquet. Violets. "But it seems like someone's beaten me to the punch." What a cruel metaphor. Snow blocking your chances yet again. Standing in between you and a real life with real connections. Soon enough, you won't be real. What'll be left when you run out of choices you can make for yourself?
For now, you put the roses down anyway. The breath from your melancholy laugh is visible in the crisp morning air. "Thanks," you say, holding your hand out to accept the flowers. They remind you of home. A patch of them grew out in the field behind the house you grew up in. Your fingers brush over his as you accept the bouquet.
He jolts, "You're freezing!" Dropping down next to you on the steps, he removes the violets from your grasp and rests them in the small space between you. You follow the purple flowers with your eyes as he swiftly takes your hands in his own, attempting to warm them. "Do you purposefully torture your hands?"
You don't answer, still looking at the flowers he brought you. Finnick sighs, "You take such good care of Darla. Do you even bother looking after yourself?"
"What's the point?" Your heart hurts. As much as he hates it, he doesn't have a reply to that. He often wonders the same.
"How will you hold all the flowers you're collecting if your fingers freeze off?" He tries for lighthearted, but you wince. Instantly, he frowns. While typically, your replies to him are short, bordering on rude, they're always spirited. You seemed upset before he left you at the party last night, but now you seem disheveled. Like you hadn't had a wink of sleep.
Clearly, he's caught you in one of those moments. All the victors have them, but usually in private. He's not keen to leave you, though.
"Who gave you the roses?" He ventures, suddenly getting a sickening feeling. He's not expecting a real response, necessarily, but a 'wouldn't you like to know' would ease his anxiety.
You pick up the heavily perfumed flowers, "Oh, these? A gift, I suspect. I made someone very happy last night, and I'm sure I'll be doing it more often," you say bitterly before you toss them back down. Your voice comes out small, though, like you haven't built your armor thick enough to face this yet.
"From the office of the President?" It's not even a question. He already knows. Your face reveals your surprise. "I got a similar congratulatory present when I made my first deal." While he figured out that Snow had you in a similar position, it's clear you suspected nothing of the sort when it came to him. As you look into his eyes, he hopes you're getting what he's trying to convey. That the two of you are the same. And you can finally, finally, be honest.
"It was more of a negotiation," you nod, holding his eyes. "Not my first deal."
"I figured," he says.
You laugh sourly, "Is it easy to tell that I'm a cheap whore?"
"Don't sell yourself short," he scolds, "you're a very expensive whore." He almost worries it won't go over well when you snort and launch into the freest laugh he's heard in his life. Thank God someone appreciates his humor- Mags hates these jokes. He's got plenty more of them, and will definitely use them on you now that he knows they'll land.
"Thank you for the vote of confidence," you reply, tongue-in-cheek. Finnick can tell by your genuine grin, however, that you appreciated the joke.
"You're welcome," he nods, "You know, I've considered abandoning prostitution in favor of stand-up comedy."
Somehow your grin grows wider, "Really?"
"Really," he confirms, "I just have to perfect my material before I pitch it to the big man." You nod sagely, entertaining his bit. "He might just keel over in laughter," Finnick suggests.
You lean in a bit, "Think he'll keel over dead?"
"Here's hoping!" He leans in, too, sending you a flashy smile. You laugh again and look back out at the city. An amicable silence falls between the two of you, and you enjoy it a bit before breaking it.
"I met with him before the taping to tell him our deal was off. My nana died during Darla's games, so I thought he had nothing to hold over my head anymore. Then, at the party, our escort told me that Snow wanted everyone to get to know her. And when I saw her talking to-" you cut yourself off, but he understands. Some of them are too difficult to even think about. "I marched into his house and told him I'd take on twice the clients if it meant Darla would never see one." Finnick's breath catches in his throat for a second.
"So... a reminder of my renewed imprisonment," you pick the white roses up again and wave them sarcastically.
Finnick snatches them from your hands and launches them far across the steps with a firm throw. They scatter and tumble across the white marble. The action is so unexpected that another laugh bubbles out from you.
"I think you're incredibly brave," he declares, looking you right in the eye. "You might be the only victor worthy of the title."
"No," you're quick to insist. "That's Darla. She's earned her peace."
"You haven't stopped to think that you might've too?"
You shake your head, "But I haven't. I don't think I could ever atone for what I've done- no matter how hard I try." His brows furrow, finding your words worrisome.
Catching his look, you elaborate, "Every visit to Mrs. Montgomery's classroom, the parks I design, the gardens I dedicate, my broadcast segments- they're all born of guilt!" You admit, getting choked up, "It's my way of saying sorry. Sorry for fucking your husband, even though he paid to fuck me, and I wanted to die each time he did it. Sorry for being a plague upon the Earth, here's something to make it better. Sorry for-" You only notice you'd been aggressively scratching the back of your hand when Finnick grabs your wrist. It cuts off your rambling and prevents you from hurting yourself anymore.
"Why don't you talk to someone instead of torturing yourself?" He sounds pained.
“Who would I talk to?” You shrug, swiping at a stray tear.
“That was… supposed to be an offer,” he winces.
“Oh?" you blink at him.
“I’m really just a call away,” he nods, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head.
“Right,” you say, still sounding a little unsure. You blink a few times, averting your gaze and thinking it over.
“I know you think I’m gorgeous, but I’m sure it’ll be less of an obstacle for you over the phone,” he jokes.
You turn toward him slowly, eyes wide, “she didn’t.”
“She did,” he smirks at you.
You hit him firmly in the gut, and he lets out a heavy breath as he curls inward. He’s glad you’re feeling up to your usual abrasiveness.
You’ve already moved from your spot and are heading toward the station. He stumbles up after you.
You stop suddenly. Not that you were really going anywhere. The train for Ten won’t leave without Darla and Darla is chronically late. He nearly runs right into your back, and you see him struggle to regain his balance as you whip around.
He’s much closer than you thought, and you have to take a small step back. “What’s your number?”
“What?” He asks, reeling from the near-collision.
“How am I supposed to call if I don’t have your number?” You ask, and his eyebrows raise at the question. You totally skipped the ‘yes, thank you, what a great idea,’ part he’d been hoping for. But, he’ll take what he can get. He rattles off the number in an instant.
“Are you going to remember that?” He asks.
You nod noncommittally, “We’ll see.” The exasperated look on his face pulls another grin from you. He doesn't fight the smile off his face when he sees yours.
A car door slam breaks your extended eye contact. The other District Ten mentor breezes right past you and Finnick, clearly annoyed at being up so early. You know him well enough to know he’s going right back to bed on this train.
Darla, however, looks like hell-warmed over. “What the fuck happened to you?”
“Shhhhh,” she holds a finger to her lips, the other clutching her head. Your expression drops as you take in her appearance.
“Are you hungover?!” You try to steal her dark sunglasses, but she’s too quick.
“Whatever, Mom,” she grumbles, “hurry up and kiss your boyfriend goodbye so we can leave.” She trudges further into the station, where a train is inevitably waiting for you. Your eyes go wide in embarrassment.
“Darla!” You yell, and she winces at the noise.
Finnick chuckles, “What happened to moderation?” She throws him the finger, earning further laughter.
You shake your head at her behavior, and when you turn back to Finnick you find he’s already looking at you. “What?”
“Nothing,” he shrugs, acting innocent. “Oh wait,” he snaps and doubles back to grab the flowers he arrived with. “You almost forgot these.”
You shake your head at him, smiling, “Can’t have that can we?”
“Safe travels,” he nods at you, turning to go. He makes it a few paces before you call out after him.
“Finnick,” he quickly turns at the sound of his name. When you recite his number back a surprised grin lights up his features. “The uh- the phone works both ways, you know. I’m not a bad listener.”
“Noted,” he nods, smiling. You smile back at him, a genuine one, and it makes you look younger. A loud call of your name from a train within the station makes the both of you laugh.
“Bye, Finnick,” you smile at him, giving a cute little wave. He returns it readily.
And he thought he was in trouble before.
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@emerald-09
I also didn't really edit this one, but I think I like how it turned out? I'm not sure if I'll write more for this mini-universe since I have a few other Finnick ideas but we'll see
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𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 · 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭, 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰
contents: fluff. pre-relationship. mentions of the three moon sisters from an in-game book 'moonlit bamboo forest'. 500 wc.
You share your first kiss with Wriothesley somewhere on Fontaine’s hilltop near the Opera Epiclese, overlooking the clear waters as moonlight cascades across the verdant lands covered in patches of morning glory flowers.
You both were on your third date, laying on a picnic blanket with a basket of pastries from a popular cafe, freshly brewed tea thanks to his portable set, and rainbow roses he gifted you set aside. It was the only time you could have him all to yourself when the Fortress became unexpectedly busy with him dealing with Fatui spies and unearthing their true goals on marked territory. But it was quickly resolved and everything was back to running smoothly again.
Even when Wriothesley had too much going on his mind, his thoughts always returned to you and your welcomed visits to his office to steal him away from his work. A sliver of a smile rests on his lips when you exchange greetings, and he makes sure to offer you another cup of tea to keep you from leaving too soon. When you have gone back to the surface, he yearns to see you again and have you close to him—just as you are now.
He likes the feeling of your soft hand in his rough and calloused ones and the sweet sound of your voice, even as you tell him about the legend of the three moon sisters while gazing upon the radiant and timeless orb that's said to be a corpse. But Wriothesley was more interested in you than the sovereigns of the night sky and the tragic fates bestowed unto them. Though, he listened intently to your every word his eyes never once wavered from the opalescent glow filtering your beautiful face, memorizing every minute detail of your expressions and the moments leading up to it. . .
Then you both went quiet and you turned your head to look at him. You can feel his hand tighten around yours as he leans in impossibly close, his breath mingling with yours as he points out that you have something on the corner of your mouth—a crumb from the pear tarlet you nibbled on a while ago. “Here, let me. . .” He sweeps his thumb against your tender skin at first, then your heart skips a beat and heat spreads throughout your body when he fully presses his lips there.
When he draws back, he searches your face for anything that tells him he didn't scare you off even when the mutual interest was already made clear. Yet a shadow of doubt weighs in the back of his mind because deep down he was starting to fall for you, and he hopes what you might feel for him is real and true. And so, the night air became sweeter in the way your lips stretched into a smile that was warm and inviting, and he knew at that moment his world would shift to revolve around you. “How about a proper first kiss?”
He dips in again for another taste, embracing the softness of your lips and pulling you closer until it is just the two of you, your ever-growing love, and the heavens as your witness.
꒰ note ᰔ there was nothing there, he just wanted to kiss you. ꒱
#ᨳ ₊˚ 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐩.𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬#wriothesley#wriothesley x reader#wriothesley x you#wriothesley fluff#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact imagines
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(No one has posted this and I need it so I shall cook for myself)
- Yandere!Alastor with a g/n reader who likes toys and art stuff -
Okay so here’s the thing I kinda see about Alastor:
Hes a fucking looney who will do anything and everything to keep you if he happens to fall in love.
But lemme tell you if you break past those walls and manage to ameliorate his aceness to the point that he’s yandere about you then baby you done.
You might as well have signed over your soul to him.
I like to think only one thing in particular would peak his interest at first.
Maybe your drawing outside a coffee shop -
Or reading tarot cards at the park?
Perhaps even reading under a tree, who knows?
But whatever it is, Alastor saw you and he froze.
He never once expected to fall so deeply in love (especially not at first sight) and I feel that when he did finally succumb after a bit of denial, it would be a quick realization and he’d make a decision to seek you out immediately.
He’d closely stalk you for some time but when he gets you, he’d keep you in his radio tower, where no one else goes and where his world really is.
He’d probably kidnap you mere weeks after realizing he’s enamored, it wouldn’t take long before he came up behind you out of nowhere.
He was someone you’d only seen once or twice in passing but found attractive each time, though you weren’t exactly thinking about a partnership.
He wouldn’t be asking you, he’d simply take you.
(You didn’t need to know he’d been admiring you anyway.)
You weren’t someone of great power or who was well known. You simply met a tragic fate and unfortunately ended up here by mistake due to being involved in “black magic”.
It was unfair, in your opinion, to be cast down simply due to your divination talents and history.
Never once did you misuse your gifts yet here you were.
When you come around, you’re in Alastor room in the hotel.
He explains the situation and gives you options.
You ask to go, not interested in whatever he’s offering and he explains that’s not an option so you need to pick another one.
After demanding to leave, trying to open the door, banging and calling for help and eventually pleading and sobbing with him, you realize you aren’t going anywhere.
You wheep and hoarsely beg as he carries you into the wooded area that seems to pocket into another place.
You realize later that it was a path to the radio tower.
There’s a wooden door that leads to his own personal “home” in that tower.
And inside, I’d expect it’s quite nice.
Greenery everywhere, plants and/or herbs hanging from the ceiling and a cozy woodstove. Lovely flowers and pretty trees surrounding the outside, blocking the view of the horrors that hell had naturally.
A earthy, modest but very comfortable and exquisite environment and cottage style house with at least one library on hand.
But he can take all this beauty away quite easily, so don’t forget or step out of line. The view is a luxury he gives based on your behavior; do not tread lightly.
Now, he’s very commanding and strict with his darling, often times dictating what they eat and wear, bossing them around and physically moving them to where he wants.
• “My little doe, you were simply taking too much time to get to me, I was just helping you along.”
• “Oh darling, don’t you know I’m doing this for your own good? Don’t cry, come here: give me a kiss.”
• “No no, little doe. It’s best if you rest right now. Ah, yes, I can see you don’t want to sleep. How about I read to you or turn the radio on, hm?”
But he’s also super old timey and you would immediately be considered his spouse, and he would pamper and treat you with such respect (at least as much as he could)
If he found out you liked dolls or soft toys, well he’d be all over that and try to use it to his advantage.
I feel like it would be a rag doll copy of himself or a porcelain/ball jointed doll (dressed in 1920-1950 attire) as a Victorian styled Queen or what not.
• “You seem so lonely honey bun, so I picked you up something nice. Hopefully it will warm you a little when you think of me.”
• “I can see you fiddle with your hands a lot, mi amor. Here, have a doll to dress and play with for when your pretty hands need a break from the books.”
• “Oh my, it seems a nap is in order for your crankiness. Where is your toy? It’s better for you to have something to sleep with while I’m doing the broadcast.”
But he wouldn’t have bought it for you, oh no, because the only thing he buys you is the most pristine art supplies and most flattering jewelry and clothes —
— he’d have made this himself for you, from his own power.
And he’d use it to keep an eye on you no matter where you happened to be.
Needed a moment alone? Not without the doll he gave you.
Was hiding from punishment? Not without the doll.
If you left it somewhere in a vain attempt for distance, you’d find it on your person the second you reached in your bag or turned around.
And when Alastor found out you left it? He’d be livid.
But you wouldn’t know he was mad by his face, only his voice and the static crackle in the background.
• “Don’t you ever leave that doll again sweetheart. Do you understand me?”
• “This is how I protect you, darling. It’s best for everyone if you follow direction.”
• “Now honey, you don’t want to lose your privilege to wander around the hotel and mingle with the others, do you? Then you best keep that doll close, hm?”
If you possibly took a liking to the doll he gave you, well..
His heart might soar, he won’t lie
How cute and innocent you were, so completely unaware of the horrors he possesses — the doll possesses — if you step out of line
It’s something he really loves about you; you trust him (mostly bc you have to)
And if you took up sewing to make outfits for the doll?? He’d be so over the moon and even conjure up a little wardrobe for them if enough clothes are made.
And your drawings??? Oh don’t even get me started
too late I did it myself here I go
He would parade you around like you were the messiah of the demonic art world
It didn’t matter if you or anyone else thought you were good
You like doing it? Hes gonna over indulge you.
You drew something just for him???
Then it’s getting a golden frame and you’re getting the radio host fame.
He wouldn’t let anyone touch your sketchbook. He’d actually kill anyone who destroys any piece of your work.
He always coos over you, he’s literally obsessed with you.
Admires you while your drawing like you are the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.
Always begs to see your drawings.
Does everything in his power to help you with inspiration or getting out of art block.
Hangs up his favorite pieces you’ve done around the hotel and talks you up to everyone.
• “My my, who would have guessed my little doe was so full of talent? Ah-ha, well me, of course!”
• “Oh yes, they’re nothing short of extraordinary and excel in everything they attempt. It’s absolutely magnificent.”
• “Quite the looker, aren’t they? It’s no wonder I fell so hard, they made this old withering heart beat once more.”
NOW LETS ADDRESS THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM:
What if you broke a rule? Either accidental or on purpose?
*rubs palms together deviously*
I mean it’s hell, so it’s not like you could actually die and he’d permanently lose you, but I could see him considering killing, traumatizing and horrifying you to make a point for when you came back. If you broke the rule on purpose or left the hotel without a damn good reason or asking him, I definitely think he’d ponder on it.
But I honestly don’t know if he’d be able to go that far if he’s to the point that he’s fallen for you.
I definitely think he’d be the kind to chain you away for a bit and ignore you for a while after really scaring you though, having only come in when you cry out for him or need to be attended.
He’d be condescending and emotionally manipulating for sure.
• “Well dear, we wouldn’t be in this predicament if you would have just listened and been good, hm?”
• “No no, you can’t come downstairs. I told you this time out is for two weeks. It’s been only two days darling.”
•“Now that’s not the way one of such class as ourselves behave. Shush your crying, my sweet.”
He wouldn’t tolerate a darling openly defying him, he’d put you over his knee and bruise your behind so quick and wouldn’t think twice.
And getting off punishments easy? Nah.
Good behavior or not, you’re gonna be going through the whole thing every single time. He won’t let you have even an ounce of wiggle room on that.
Your bottom stings after only thirty spanks? He isn’t stopping. He said 50 and he meant it, so buckle up buttercup, this is gonna be a long ride.
You don’t want to finish your plate? Well that’s a nice opinion, quite cute! .. but he doesn’t recall asking you what you wanted, so eat up ~
You aren’t tired? Well, allow him the pleasure of wearing you out and soothing you to slumber.
I think he’d allow the darling to cling to him though, that’s the kind of yandere I see him as. He’d maybe mock you a little at first and seem patronizing but all in all, he finds the need to touch him endearing and he does become fond of it.
I think he’d make you dependent on it, really. He’d always encourage you to cuddle up to him, always making sure you sit or stand directly next to him and that’s he’s always got his arm around you or you hanging onto his own.
He’d be tolerant of your crying. I think he’d find you cute while in distress, so that would be his favorite time to hold you tight. He’d caress your tearstreaks and kiss away the droplets.
•“Sweet sugar plum, you’ve been so emotional lately.”
• “Pretty crybaby, what can I do to make you feel better? Come now, there must be something your husband can whip up for you.”
“Oh, my poor, darling y/n..” he’d tsk, stroking the side of your face and nuzzling noses, “don’t cry, hush now, it’s alright, your faithful and devoted protector is here.”
#yandere#yandere!Alastor#Hazbin Hotel improper headcannons#my brainrot#the radio demon#yandere alastor x reader#I’m tired#gender neutral reader#unhealthy relationships#I do not condone this behavior IRL#Hazbin hotel#Alastor#trigger warning
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Abhimanyu: why do we love him so much?
OK, perhaps not everyone loves him a lot as we do. I have seen people comment how Lakshman Kumar defeated him, how Abhimanyu died in a fair fight, how he was powerful because of a boon, how he was part of group attacks, how he is nothing special and is just highlighted because he is Janmeyjaya's grandfather etc.
Abhimanyu's life is very great and very tragic. When he was born, the Yadava-Pandava relation was flourishing. His mother Subhadra wasn't just the dear of her Yadava family, but her co-wife and the Empress, Draupadi, adored her extremely as well. Abhimanyu became his father and uncles' favorite since birth.
He was raised in Dwarka, where Subhadra was respected and cherished, and so was he. Balaram, Krishna and Pradyumna themselves educated him. Abhimanyu seems like someone who works very hard, and strives to be better at each moment, the type of student who ever teacher likes.
Then, later, he was the first of his brothers (except Ghatotkacha) to marry. Abhimanyu already had the Yadavas backing him up, and then, he becomes the son-in-law of the kingdom who is about to aid them in the War.
Abhimanyu is described as having a moon-like face, and broad shoulders. He was very handsome, over all, and must have been seen as charming.
Abhimanyu's marriage to Uttara is an extremely grand wedding, if you see the details about the wedding gifts given and received from both sides, and the number of guests that arrived. Almost ALL the important people of Aryavart had attended that wedding.
Abhimanyu's relationship with his wife is not detailed, but she grieved for him a lot, and the Stree Parva shows Gandhari explicitly mentioning their love life in....more than one aspect. It seems that he was a genuinely loving husband, who cared for his wife's happiness and needs, and in return, his wife too, loved and cherished him a lot, albeit returning his affection a bit shyly.
The crux of Abhimanyu's character is the tragedy that is in him, growing up without his father, a love story left incomplete due to him dying a premature death, his child growing up fatherless, and such potential being wasted away.
Abhimanyu is also fiercely talented. He was the 2nd highest ranking warrior in the Pandava army, and he defeated all of the major Kaurava warriors (except Bhishma) in one-to-one combat. Group attacks were common in the War, but Abhimanyu's case is different.
Abhimanyu enters the chakravyuha formation alone. The rest of the army is held at gate 1. He fights, not only against the numerous Kaurava warriors, but their common soldiers too, at the same time, for 12 hours continuously.
He defeats them, and then continues to fight back despite being attacked in groups. He loses his weapons, and fights with literally anything that he can, and is heavily injured. He is stabbed from behind by warriors far more experienced by him.
Abhimanyu's last duel is with Dushasana's son Durmasena, where the two of them faint after simultaneously knocking each other out from their mace fight. Durmasena is the one to wake up first as he is less injured. He bashes Abhimanyu's skull while he is just getting consciousness, killing him. This, is what certain people love to call, a "fair" fight.
Abhimanyu's death has severe consequences. The text provides detailed descriptions of his parents and wife's mourning. Arjun is devastated, and blames Jayadratha for this whole incident. (I wonder how and why he still respected Drona, Ashwatthama, Kripa etc after this incident?)
Arjun kills 7 battalions of the Kaurava army on his own the next day. (Abhimanyu had killed 1 battalion on his own the previous day.)
The war ends, and Abhimanyu's blood rules the throne. Abhimanyu is a person who strives to be better despite numerous personal tragedies marring his life. He is perhaps one of the only such detailed characters from the Mahabharata who is faultless, and yet gets the cruelest fate of them all.
Abhimanyu is someone who would have been one of the heir apparent candidates if he had survived. He is someone who had loved and cherished his relationships a lot. Abhimanyu is someone who should be loved and remembered for who he was, and what he did.
#mahabharat#mahabharata#abhimanyu#arjun#uttara#subhadra#krishna#sorry i had to#why is he so sweet and lovely and self sacrificing#i go overpowered by the emotions#read with a grain of salt
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ships i like and why i ship them: a small, affectionate rant before bed
zhongchi: probably the first ship i ever interacted with. i may have started playing genshin for them. I specifically remember reading modern, non canon au fics on ao3 when i was still low AR and did not have liyue unlocked yet just to enjoy content of them without spoiling the story too much. those were good times
love the betrayal, the reciprocated manipulations, their individual bloody pasts and their juxtaposing love for humanity/family. the marriage chopsticks. god, the amount of threads I've read explaining those... and ofc you can't forget the official art with them by the harbor with the gingko leaves falling cinematically. i think that's the art that drew me to them lol
there's also something so deliciously tragic about a near-immortal being who's fated to succumb to erosion in due time, falling in love with a mortal man who's always within death's cold embrace. not to mention the subtext of their themes and principles. geo and hydro, stability and turbulence, land and sea, they crystallize when they meet in the middle, etc etc
kaeluc: another pairing I enjoyed the absolute shit out of, way back when I wasn't even playing the game yet. I remember learning about them while I was deep in my mxtx phase, specifically tgcf, and I'm pretty sure I dipped my toes in after I learned that they used to be sworn brothers. keywords here being used to. hook, line, and sinker. before I knew it, I was also reading fanfics about them, but only modern, non canon au ones because genshin terms made no sense to me and i didn't want spoilers. then I played the game. and then—we get Kaeya for free. I mained the shit out of that man for months.
and then. I fully entered the fandom, only to be immediately slapped in the face with the mistranslation issue.
and I get it, honestly, if you like ragbros good for you, I'm happy for you, but me personally, I will scorn hyv until the day I fucking die because had they not messed this up? kaeluc would've have been so powerful. KAELUC WOULD HAVE BEEN SO FUCKING POWERFUL
how could they not be? they're childhood friends but they're also forbidden romance coded, and rivals/enemies coded, but they're also soulmates. they don't just know each other, they're two halves of a whole, they know each other.
and the themes, don't even get me started on their themes. fire and ice, red and blue... paimon's line about them being similar (i.e. kaeya's a shady mf who fights in the day/diluc's a bright fire in the night) is one of the most romantic lines ever. they're sun and moon but only because they complete each other. also, lamp grass and calla lily? that's them as flowers, but they're the other person's ascension material like hello???????? fucking wild.
and ofc this kaeluc section can't end without me mentioning arundolyn and rostam. for those who don't know or have read/heard of those names but never really dug deep into it, arundolyn and rostam were knights of favonius around the same time as the cataclysm, and you can read about them in artifact sets such as brave heart, defender's will; and partially from the elegy bow
the reason they're here is because there are too many damn parallels between them and kaeluc to just be a coincidence.
arundolyn was a claymore user (see: ferrous shadow), he was the "lion of light,"; he was naturally gifted in strength but still trained hard and would later become the grand master of the knights; he'd push rostam to drink wine and tell him to have a little fun; he gives up his title and weapon after rostam dies
on the flip side, rostam was the swordsman who created the art of favonius bladework (see: favonius sword), his title was, "wolf pup,"; when he and arundolyn played as children, he was the stand-in for the champion knight of aristocracy; he "ruled the shadows," by protecting mond with ways the knights did not approve; rostam dies in an expedition to expunge the evils poured forth from the cataclysm...
I'll let you connect the dots there. I just also wanna point out, as a final note, that in the favonius sword's description, it says, "the childhood friend and spiritual counterpart of Arundolyn, the Lion of Light, whose name was Rostam, the Wolf Pup." ok. yeah. moving on
xiaoven: i very quickly realized after reading the genshin webtoon that venti was gonna be one of, if not my most favorite character. and i was curious as to who the people wanted to pair him with. keep in mind, this was around 2.0~2.2 I believe, so when I searched them up, the only canon backing I could find was the music scene
and boy, was that scene enough because holy shit, the brain rot these two gave me??? of a god who embodies freedom, and the last remaining yaksha chained to his duty????? they were so thematically opposed and beautiful, it wasn't hard to fall in love with them
by the time 3.0 came rolling in, I've already stopped playing, but that didn't mean i wasn't aware of how we were well fed by canon. from the trailer to venti full on attending the lantern rite and sitting down with the liyue gang; it was one of those interactions that transcended everything
and of course, OF COURSE, they also canonically addressed the fact that venti's music soothes xiao's soul. that's intimate. that's deep. that's so fucking romantic and nice and beautiful in the most tragic way...
also, we can't forget the depictions of god and servant here. the holy themes, the worship. the promise of immortality and foreverness, but also the threat of it. i just think xiao doomed with karmic debt and venti vowed to divine erosion is such a soulmate connection, and I'm also delusional
that's all for now but there's so much more...
#I'll probably make a proper arundostam/kaeluc parallel analysis when I can lol#this got away from me FAST lmao#genshin impact#genshin impact ship#zhongchi#tartali#kaeluc#luckae#xiaoven#zhongli#tartaglia#childe#kaeya#diluc#kaeya alberich#diluc ragnivindr#xiao#venti#bee.texts#gi.texts#rants
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Winter/Christmas Masterlist (3)
Part 1 / Part 2 /
Created: November 22nd, 2023
Last Checked:-----
Snowstorm-songbirdheart (ao3)
Summary: “Spring is for courting, so mother will say; summer for wedding, rosy as May; autumn for keeping you warm from the cold; winter for babies to care when we’re old.” Written for the prompt: "No games, canon. Just a good, all time favorite “it would have happened anyway” story. Maybe throw in snowstorm trope to make it seasonal?" You got it. :D
Snowstorm for a Broken Heart-Demona424 (ao3)
Summary: Peeta didn’t want to be on the road with her let alone weathering a snow storm during the Christmas break, yet here he is, with Katniss Everdeen, the girl who broke his heart. How the hell is he going to deal with so much time alone with her?
The Bet-amelia_day (ao3)
Summary: When a sorority bet gets out of hand and becomes a campus wide sensation, Katniss and Peeta are both forced to deal with the aftermath.
The Christmas Play-thegirlonpeetamellark (ao3)
Summary: Written for the Tumblr 'Prompts in Panem' 7 Day Challenge: Holidays. Katniss helps to put on the annual Christmas play for the church at the request of her father, Reverend Everdeen. Then she meets Peeta Mellark who makes her reconsider her stance on sinning.
The Gift-Ameiko (ao3)
Summary: Peeta Mellark spent his adolescent years in a mental institution after losing most of his family in a tragic accident. Now age twenty three and working as the janitor/caretaker at the Snow Academy for Girls, he is drawn out of solitude by the newly hired music teacher. AU set in Maine, 1942.
The Holiday Stand In-LemonLuvGirl (ao3)
Summary: Modern AU. Katniss Everdeen needs a guy to pretend to be her boyfriend for the holidays, and when she meets Peeta Mellark she thinks he's the answer to her Christmas prayers. Peeta also happens to need a significant other to take home to show off to his folks. So Kantiss proposes that they pose as each other's dates for the holiday season. Just to get their families off their backs. But pretending to be in love is a dangerous game, one that Katniss might not end up winning unless she plays her cards right.
Where Did You Sleep Last Night?-LolaBleu (ao3)
Summary: Blindsided, that’s how Katniss feels when she goes out for her morning coffee and runs into Peeta. It’s been two years since she talked to him, longer since she’s seen him, but there he is, standing in front of her in the sidewalk, smiling like their love story had a happy ending. Sometimes - lots of times - she wishes it did.
Wrapped In Red-katnissdoesnotfollowback (ao3)
Summary: Katniss is trying to be a good friend to her recently divorced pal. She really is. But this holiday season, fate, her own feelings, and Peeta’s daughter have other plans. An advent style Everlark story.
You Are What You Are-Abagail_Snow (ao3)
Summary: During Catching Fire, Katniss and Peeta get snowed in.
You Should Be Here With Me, Safe and Warm-Xerxia (ao3)
Summary: For the Seasons of Hope Exchange. Best friends traveling home for the holidays get stranded in the most uncomfortable of situations.
#winter masterlist#winter#christmas#party#masterlist#thglibrary masterlist#everlark fanfiction#thg fanfiction#everlark#thg#christmas masterlist
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okay cool i see many of us are talking about the scene where annabeth gets rooted down in the fields of asphodel and we all wanna know what she regrets so much so here’s my two cents on what i thought it meant
the obvious answer is thalia, thinking that she could have saved her (even though she was seven. annabeth has always been an overachiever with impossibly high standards for herself we all know this). but i think it goes deeper than that. i think it’s about her worldview and relationship to the gods. let me explain.
annabeth has worked with the gods’ system for Years. she followed all the rules and fought for kleos and became head counselor at the age of TWELVE. she wants so badly to be recognized and seen by her mom, and i’m so glad she uses her yankees cap as often as she does because it really shows that she treasures this one gift from athena. and then percy shows up.
and he’s impertinent. and angry. and does not give a single shit about what the gods expect or want. openly shit-talks his father. and yet, when he’s in danger poseidon comes for him. meanwhile athena LET ECHIDNA INTO HER TEMPLE AND LEFT ANNABETH TO DIE DUE TO SOMEONE ELSE’S ACTIONS. and suddenly, annabeth feels all her efforts to be the perfect demigod daughter crumbling while percy ‘pay your fucking child support’ jackson gets not only acknowledgement but his father but aid for all three of them. she tells hephaestus as much: percy isn’t like the rest of them, he’s better than that. and she doesn’t want to be like them either. and think about it: that turns her Whole Worldview on its head
she never saw herself as deserving of her mother’s attention, even if she craved it. she believes love is transactional, and now she’s learning it doesn’t have to be. and that’s a Lot to process in such a short amount of time— realizing that all that time, effort, and energy, all those pieces of herself, that she gave to the gods were useless. that so much of her life was wasted on the gods’ fucked up cycle of neglect. it’s HARD to look back and realize “i deserved better,” and regret putting up with it all
it’s even harder to realize someone else deserved better. in the beginning. of the series, annabeth saw thalia’s fate as an honorable, even enviable, one. a hero’s fate. dying in battle, for glory, and having a god intervene in the moment of your death. i think she sees that very differently now. i think she realizes just how cruel zeus and the world were to thalia, and how fucked it was that she idolized thalia’s “hero’s fate”
and guess what! percy’s worldview only really started making an impression on her like . three days ago. she probably feels so much guilt on TOP of all this regret and anger, because it takes a long time to break out of mindsets like hers. she hasn’t deconstructed it all just yet, and in giving up her blind servitude to the gods and her mother, she’s probably struggling with the feeling that she’s not allowed to be angry, that she’s ungrateful, that she’s severely insulting them. i think this absolute tsunami of emotions is more than enough to bog her down in the fields of asphodel and would align with her character development as she starts seeing the gods for what they really are
(but what do i know, maybe this scene is just foreshadowing some crazy tv annabeth tragic backstory that we get to see later)
#I JUST HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS OKAY#the way she tells percy ‘i trust your dad’ and you can FEEL her pain because you know she’s thinking of athena#and how she couldnt trust her mom#there’s LAYERS TO THIS OKAY#LIKE AN ONION#(is someone chopping onions in here bc my eyes are getting watery)#percy jackson and the olympians#percy jackson#pjo tv show#pjo spoilers#pjo tv spoilers
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the lightning thief by rick riordan sentence starters
am i a troubled kid? yeah, you could say that.
i'm going to kill her.
you're already on probation. you know who'll get blamed if anything happens.
it's okay. thanks for trying.
you've been giving us problems.
did you really think you would get away with it?
let him enjoy his ignorance while he still can.
i can't fail in my duties again. you know what that would mean.
why would i need you?
what are you not telling me?
tell me they're not looking at you. they are, aren't they?
i don't want this to be like the last time.
does that mean somebody is going to die?
i hope you lose.
because you don't want me around?
you've been out for two days. how much do you remember?
you drool when you sleep.
can you imagine that for a moment, never dying?
but i don't believe in gods.
not lethal. usually.
i can't believe i thought you were the one.
monsters don't die. they can be killed. but they don't die.
oh, thanks. that clears it up.
you talk in your sleep.
i'm thinking that i want you on my team for capture the flag.
why would anybody want to summon a monster?
i don't belong here.
no maiming.
where the heck did you learn to fight like that?
you're saying i'm being used.
who else would be stupid enough to volunteer for a quest like this?
a lot of hopes are riding on you.
kill some monsters for me, okay?
you want a magic item?
remind me again - why do you hate me so much?
i don't hate you.
i said if you're lucky. you're obviously not.
i can't just leave you.
you have offended the gods. you shall die.
what did you want me to do? let you get killed?
you didn't need to protect me. i would've been fine.
the real world is where the monsters are. that's where you learn whether you're any good or not.
you're pretty good with that knife.
are you crazy? this place is weird.
what's that hissing noise?
i take vitamins. for my ears.
that's admirable. but please, relax.
you would be better off as a statue. less pain.
oh, yuck. mega yuck.
forget it. you're impossible.
you're insufferable.
they're not going to like that. they'll think you're impertinent.
i am impertinent.
they seemed plenty aggressive to me.
how about i take first watch? you get some sleep.
how long was i asleep?
what would you do if it was your dad?
that's easy. i'd let him to rot.
can't we work together a little?
they don't make heroes like they used to.
we can't leave you alone for five minutes! what happened?
it's okay. i don't mind a little attitude.
you can't do that. you can't just threaten people with a knife.
don't you carry a weapon? you should. dangerous world out there.
even strength has to bow to wisdom sometimes.
if he brings his girlfriend here for a date, i'd hate to see what she looks like.
you don't want to insult her looks.
me, go with you? how embarrassing is that? what if somebody saw me?
who's going to see you?
you didn't get yourself killed.
you knew it was a trap.
her death was my fault.
please. i'm not into self-inflicted pain.
i don't know what they'll do. i just know i'll fight next to you.
because you're my friend.
no gift comes without a price.
be faster next time.
the plan. yeah, i love the plan.
no. i'm dead.
you're not dead. i should have known.
i'd wish you luck, but there isn't any down here.
it amuses me not to strike you dead yet.
there can't be a war among the gods. it would be... really bad.
you keep saying "after what you've done." what exactly have i done?
you heroes are always the same. your pride makes you foolish.
you were supposed to die.
i take orders from no one.
i don't have dreams.
he is proud and impulsive. it runs in the family.
obedience does not come naturally to you, does it?
a hero's fate is never happy. it is never anything but tragic.
whatever else you do, know that you are mine.
you can't do this for me. you can't solve my problems.
if my life is going to mean anything, i have to live it myself.
you miss being on a quest?
where's the glory in repeating what others have done?
all the gods know how to do is replay their past.
when i came back, all i got was pity.
the gods let her die.
i've been used? look at yourself.
you must not rush out for vengeance.
keep your eyes open.
i'll be back next summer.
i'll survive until then.
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Psycho Analysis: The Wall
(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)
Spidey Super Stories is what you get when you take Spider-Man from The Electric Company and give him a comic run of his own. It’s geared more towards kids, so there’s a lot wackier and out-there concepts on display, and is the originator of not only Spider-Woman (though not Jessica Drew), but also this:
And also this:
And, of course, the evildoer known as The Wall. Or more specifically, the Wicked Wall.
Now, here’s thing (and I ain’t talking about that other bricked-up superpowered Marvel character): The Wall is a villain in a Spidey series loaded with some of the wackiest and most bonkers one-shot villains ever put to page. Case in point: Thumper, the girl who dresses as Napoleon Bonaparte, wields a boxing glove, and is defeated by being gifted the pony she always wanted since she was a child, a villain who will definitely be getting one of these reviews someday soon. And then there’s the panels like the ones above, where we get the iconic Thanoscopter. How is The Wall supposed to compete with such iconic madness?
Motivation/Goals: My man Joshua here is, quite simply, a hater. He saw Spider-Man was having a day off, and decided, “Oh HELL no, if I gotta be a brick wall I’m making that his problem!”
And he does! In an impressive twist of fate, The Wall manages to get Spidey kicked out of the Mets game the poor hero was trying to enjoy! Sure, he’s kicked out too and he doesn’t seem particularly happy, but a Pyrrhic victory is still a victory. Kind of.
Final Fate: In a fate even the Kingpin would agree is far too cruel, The Wall… is kicked out of the Mets game alongside Spider-Man. They’re last seen moping outside the stadium together.
Best Scene: The guy’s on four fucking pages, let’s just say his entire existence is perfect. But if I’m singling out a tiny sequence, I think this one might be the funniest:
Of course, there's also the sheer comedy of his backstory, where he was a simple boy building a wall when suddenly it fell, somehow turning him into a monster. Maybe the cement was radioactive? It defies all logic in the best way:
Best Quote:
Final Thoughts & Score: The Wall is a great example of the weird, off-the-wall (heh) creativity utilized in comics at the time. He really has it all: A ridiculously punny name that kind of had his fate sealed from birth (Joshua Waldemeyer), no real reason for villainy, an absurd and nonsensical accident that created him that defies any and all logic, a ridiculous yet endearing design, and an endless supply of corny one-liners. This is what goofy one-shot villains should aspire to be.
Of course, that doesn’t leave me with much to talk about in regards to him; there’s no deep complexities or tragic backstories here, just a simple case of a goofy gimmick villain being a lot of fun due to an absurd design and a simple scheme. Unlike the last villain I reviewed, I’d say the relatively simple and straighforward gimmick of being a fucking wall was used to great effect, giving plenty of goofy puns and gags as well as utilizing his bizarre ability to be a nuisance. Like yeah, you could probably swap out The Wall with someone like Rhino or Juggernaut and get the same basic effect, but would it be nearly as funny?
A 7/10 is a fair score for this guy. He’s just a perfectly fun one-shot who, despite only a brief time in the spotlight, isn’t such a terrible idea he couldn’t work if brought back in some regard. Hell, they almost brought him back for Across the Spider-Verse, with his absence being the only thing holding the movie back from true greatness.
I think my only gripes with him are that he's only there for four pages, which while understandable is rather disappointing, but more importantly is that he's in a comic that seems filled to the brim with utter absurdity around every corner. After seeing the Thanoscopter, would you not be comfortably numb to a living mound of masonry? All in all, is he not simply another brick in the wall?
No you fucking goon, he IS The Wall itself. And nothing can take that away from him. If nothing else, I’m definitely going to have to look through more of these Spidey stories to see what other bonkers villains lie waiting for me.
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A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 33
Chapter 32.5
Masterlist
Mentions of torture in the dream sequence portion followed by a cannon character death in this chapter.
-------Dream Sequence-------
"Ciri...Cirilla," Aemma stirs at the sound of a deep voice. She keeps her eyes closed, determine to stay asleep.
"Zireael!"
Aemma's eyes shot open. Looking ahead, she realized she was not in her bed anymore, but standing somewhere in a field yet again. A meadow actually. Once more, Aemma was wearing the simple dress she was in during her first dream when she saw her mother running with the Wild Hunt.
"Zireael," the deep voice says again, "Must I have this conversation with you again?"
A figure stands before Aemma. He was tall in appearance, stoic, with short grey-ish hair with two short braids in front of his ears and grey eyes that seemed to be older then the man before her. No, not a man, an elf, hence the pointed ears. He was dressed in a long slate grey tunic with a sash wrapped around the middle.
He also sported prominent high cheek bones, which Aemma thought were more striking then his ears.
The elf stared at Aemma, giving her a paternalistic, scolding look.
"I need to save them," Another voice speaks up, passing Aemma like she was made of mist. Aemma's eyes widen as she recognized the woman who stepped through her; it was Cirilla, the woman from the Gwent card. The elf however, Aemma remembered, called her a different name.
"I need to save them, Avallac'h," Ciri insists, "they are in danger, I need to get them away from the Wild Hunt." "There fate is out of your hands," the elf, Avallac'h says, placing a hand on Ciri's shoulder. "You don't know that!" Ciri pushes the elf away, "you may be an all knowing sage, but you don't know everything. I can save Geralt and (y/n), I just need to get close enough and open a portal to bring them back to my world."
Avallac'h merely gives Ciri a disappointed look, "and if you fail? Or say perhaps you succeed, but at the cost of your own life. Do you believe Eredin will spare you simply for the sake of your gift? If you interfere, if you act against him, he will act rashly in anger, he won't think twice to plunge his sword through you."
"I have to try," Ciri insists once more, "Eredin and his lackeys are hurting them both as we speak, I fear most for (y/n), she's already been through enough in her life as it is." "What the Lady of Larks has been through was tragic," Avallac'h agrees, "but I will not have you put yourself at risk. Not when there is already too much at stake. Remember what I have told you about the White Frost."
"...and if I were to die," Ciri says in a whisper, "you said....that there was another."
Aemma's eyes widen at this piece of information. Who was this other?
"If something happened to me, you could find her and mentor her as you have me." "I never said there was another," Avallac'h corrects, "I said she may possess a similar power as you do as a result of what occurred at Kaer Morhen. I do not know for certain, I possess no concrete evidence to go on other then what I know." "Pfft you've acted on more for a lot less then what you know, all Knowing One!" Ciri exclaims in frustration, "Need I remind you of the things I've endured at Tir Na Lia?!"
Avallac'h looked away, like he was ashamed, "I deeply regret how I acted on Tir Na Lia, Zireael," he admits, "I put you in situations you did not feel safe in, believing it was for the greater good." "And now (y/n) and Geralt are enduring worse, and will continue to do so for the 'greater good'," Ciri says in a low tone.
Aemma then heard a loud scream somewhere in the distance, one of agony. She felt herself being pulled towards the screams.
The princess was suddenly in a different place. A room inside where candles were the only source of light. Only a chair and table filled the room as part of the decor.
"I grow impatient with you, dh'oine," a deep voice sneers, bringing Aemma's attention to the figure. The figure in question was dressed in the dark armor similar to what she'd seen the Wild Hunt sport. The helmet was uncovered, revealing his face; long dark raven hair, and point ears with a handsome yet terrifying face. Another elf; Aemma remembered what the elf Cedric had told her, that the Wild Hunt were elves from another world, the Aen Elle, and were referred to as the Red Riders.
The person this Red Rider was interrogating was a woman with dark hair and tan skin with a stout-ish physique. Aemma realized right away who it was despite the black eye and bruises she sported on her face and exposed skin.
"I told you," (y/n) manages to breathe out, "I don't know anything about the silver blonde dragon girl's gift. I didn't know she possessed such a gift, how would I know such things?"
The elf grabs (y/n) by the throat and slowly lifts her to face him.
"Are you not the girl's mother? Should you not know the things?" "She was taken from me when she was still a tot," (y/n) spits, "I never had time to know. Maybe you should go and ask the girl's father, give him the same treatment you've been giving me and the others you've been bringing into your fold."
The tall elf tilted his head, bringing a finger to trace (y/n)'s cheek, "you may be telling the truth," he admits, "but then again, you may be lying."
He tosses (y/n) to the floor as one would a rag doll.
(Y/n) lays there before she sits up some and spits out some blood, "fuck you, Eredin," she sneers, "Even if I knew what my daughter was capable of I'll never tell you anything. Go ahead and do what you will to me. I've known worse torture by lesser hands."
The elf, Eredin, only made a smile yet wicked smile, "you say that now. But perhaps we can...loosen your tongue by other means."
Right on cue, two elves in dark armor walked into the room, helmets uncovered revealing their faces; one had a long braid that went past his waist with a tattoo on his face, and the second elf had short blonde hair that was parted in a way that covered half his face...or at least attempted to cover, but wasn't able to conceal the scars that marred his rather handsome face. Almost like scratched porcelain.
Between the two elves was a man, one Aemma realized right away; the man with white hair, gold eyes, and the silver wolf medallion.
(Y/n)'s eyes widen when she recognized the man as well, who looked like he had just gone through a painful interrogation.
"Tell me what you know of the girl, tell me of her gift," Eredin demands again, "or better yet, tell me where to find the Swallow instead. Or..."
He gestures an order for one of his riders to sock the witcher across the jawline.
"Stop! Stop it!" (y/n) shouts, "I swear, I don't know anything! She was taken from me when she was still a child, when she was barely talking, I don't know anything!"
"Mama?" Aemma calls out, "Mama, I'm right here. I'm here for you!"
"Just leave Geralt alone! Leave Ciri alone!" "Mama, where are you? I'll come for you! I'll get you away from this place!" LEAVE AEMMA ALONE!!"
"MAMA!!!!"
----------------end dream sequence--------------
Aemma woke screaming as she nearly rolled out of bed. Cold sweat broke out, dripping from her brow as she panted.
She quickly looks around, realizing she was back in her bed chambers...in Nilfgaard. That's right, she remembers, she and her family are still being hosted by the Nilfgaardian prince, who had made an offer of betrothal between her and the prince's son. Her father had yet to make a definitive answer, but seeing as they've been staying in this place for the last several months, to the point where her stepmother was due to give birth to her next child, and seeing how Morvran has been keeping to courting the young princess, it seems Aemma may be married off after all.
Aemma looked over to the mantle and saw the smoldering embers that still burned in the fire place. She gets out of bed and wonders over to the mantle, kneeling over and placing her hands over to feel the fading warmth. She needed to feel something...anything, if only to make her forget that awful nightmare...no not a nightmare, it couldn't have been.
But maybe it was...it all felt so real. Was her mother out there in some world outside this one? Being tortured by the Wild Hunt? The leader of the Wild Hunt, the King...Eredin, that was his name, he mentioned something about a girl with a gift. It was her, Aemma knew this, and she possessed a gift. She remembered what Cedric told her, that she had a gift that was given to her by accident, and that she needed to go to the place of her birth in order to better understand this gift.
She needed to go back to Dragonstone.
"Aemma?" a soft voice brings Aemma back to reality. She looks to see her stepmother walk in, and she saw the state Aemma was in, "oh sweetling, what happened?" "Muna? What...did I wake you?" "I've been up for a while," Laena assures. "You should be resting," Aemma insists, "you are due to give birth again, you shouldn't-" "I think I know what I should be doing," Laena assures, "I'm more worried for your well-being, Aemma. You've had another nightmare, haven't you?"
Aemma looks to the ground, nodding in confirmation.
Laena came closer and pulled Aemma in for a side hug; the Velaryon woman remembered full well the nightmares Aemma endured as a child, ones that plague her at night of her mother the Lady of Larks being taken away by the White Wolf, and later Laena being the one taken away. Now it looked like history was repeating itself.
"Are you worried for your family?" Laena asks, "for me? For the new life I am to bring into this world soon?"
"I'm not worried," Aemma tries to assure, but Laena knew that was a lie. "No of course not," she says to her stepdaughter, "why else would make a request for your potential betrothed to bring the finest Nilfgaard physicians and midwives to employment in this place?"
Aemma took one of Laena's hand and held it in hers, "I...I don't wish for my sisters to know pain I know."
There was truth to this statement, but also Aemma didn't want to lose Laena either; she already lost one mother, she was not prepared to lose the only other mother figure in her life.
Alicent and Rhaenyra may have made attempts to be such for Aemma, but as the girl had grown older, she felt the way both women showed their affection for her did not feel...well she wasn't sure how to describe it, apart from them way they would try to one up each other in doting on the motherless princess.
But Lady Laena...her affection and love for Aemma always felt genuine as she treated the princess as she had the daughters she birthed. Aemma always found a safe place with her stepmother, and it wasn't something she wanted to lose.
Laena knew what Aemma was speaking of when she made that statement, "the birthing bed can be a brutal place," she admits, "and there is no guarantee that those involved will all make it out in one piece."
"...that's not going to happen you, mother," Aemma says softly, "you'll make it through this as you have before. We'll sail back home to Dragonstone and then to Driftmark to see grandmother and grandsire. You'll see your children grow and wed, and you'll see your grandchildren as well. We'll be a family as we've always have been."
Aemma leaned further into Laena who gave her a kiss on the temple. She guides Aemma back to the bed and tucks her in, giving her a kiss on the brow. "I love you, Muna," Aemma says as she closes her eyes. "I love you too, sweetling," she hears Laena says as she drift off back to sleep.
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The remainder of the night was uneventful, but when Aemma woke in the morning, she needed to speak to her father.
Daemon was had not been present with the rest of the family when they had gone to break their fast, so Aemma wondered hoping to look for the man. Eventually she found him in library looking over a text that she assumed was written in the Common Tongue as Daemon himself could not speak a word of Nilfgaardian despite having been here for months (worth noting Aemma as been learning to how to speak the language slowly but surely as she may need to use it in the near future should she remain in this place).
"Father," Aemma greets to which Daemon nods in acknowledgement though he seemed more preoccupied with the book. Aemma took a seat across from Daemon, hoping she could have a moment of his time.
The two hadn't really spoken much after their conversation their first night in this palace, even though Daemon had promised he would talk to Aemma some more about her mother, and every time Aemma tried to bring it up, the man would merely dance around the subject or just avoid it entirely.
"Father," Aemma speaks again, "I...I was wondering if you speak to me of my mother, like you promised you would." Daemon said nothing, but he stop looking at the book and faced his daughter instead. "What do you wish to know?" he asks. "I...what was she like?" Aemma asks, "how did she come to King's Landing? How...how did the two of you meet?" "Aemma, I've told you that story before," Daemon tells her, "We met in a tavern where she sang to the patrons, I invited her to court to sing for your cousin Rhaenyra's nameday and Rhaenyra welcomed your mother to sing for her indefinitely."
"Yes, I've heard that story?" Aemma asks, "the same one you've told me when I was a child. I'm not a child anymore, father, what...what really happened to my mother." "It's the same story I've told you before as a child," Daemon insists, "she was abducted by the White Wolf, stolen from the Red Keep in the dead of night by that...mutant freak." "Yes but...how did the White Wolf steal into the Red Keep in the first place?" Aemma asks, "how did he sneak past the Kingsguard? How...how could he have known about the secret passageways in the Keep when very few in our family even know about it?"
Daemon looks up to Aemma, an undecipherable look in his face, "I've been thinking about the story lately," she admits, "and some of those things don't add up." "...he must've used his mutated magic to find a way in," he provides for an explanation. "Is there any proof that...his kind are capable of those kind of feats?" Aemma asks. "Does it matter?" "It matters to me!" Aemma snaps, taking her father by surprise.
"I'm sorry, it's just...when I first came to the Continent, I...I met some people, who told me a different story," she decides to admit, "they say my mother left King's Landing on her own..with him...some even said she escaped. Was...was my mother a prisoner?"
"Those people you've met we're clearly lying," Daemon slams the book shut. "Well, I mean it is...a possibility," Aemma admits, looking the other way from Daemon's intense and angered gaze, "but they all seemed convinced that that was the case. I...I don't-" "You would believe strangers over your own father?" Daemon lightly challenges, "Aemma, that is not like you." "I'm not saying I am," Aemma quickly shakes her head, noticing the agitated look on Daemon's face again which was accompanied by an angry look he's never given her before.
She quickly averts her gaze.
Daemon sighs, not wanting to scare his daughter away, "I...I loved your mother Aemma," Daemon says in a soft voice, coming closer to lightly hug Aemma to the side, "I would never have wished her harm. It tore me apart that I could not save her."
Aemma wanted to ask if he was speaking of that night in the Red Keep, or if he was speaking of what happened to her in Rivia, but she didn't want to risk angering him again. He's never given Aemma any reason to believe he would ever strike her or hurt her, but he could still be scary as a dragon when he was angry.
"I know you loved her father," Aemma nods, "forgive me for doubting." "Don't let anyone else tell you otherwise," Daemon whispers as places a kiss on Aemma's hair.
"Prince Daemon," a servant interrupts the conversation, "your wife is looking for you, she said it was most urgent."
Daemon nods and follows the servant to wherever Laena was.
Aemma sighed a bit, wondering if there really was more to this story then her father would admit, if there was more then anyone else she's met actually knew. If only she could find someone else who could set the record straight.
Right on cue, another servant came, stating that Aemma's presence was required in one of the studies by Morvran Voorhis. Aemma nods and follows.
"You called for me?" Aemma knocks on the door lightly to get Morvran's attention as he was busy writing down some letters. "Ah, yes, one moment," he finishes a letter, places the seal and has the messenger take it to wherever.
"I have some information for you, princess," Morvran tells her, "as you have requested concerning the Lady of Larks."
Aemma does her best to conceal the emotions she was feeling right now, as it had been months since she made this request. "Well, you certainly took your time," Aemma says. "A necessity as our Lady in question was spotted in multiple places; one must fact check with various sources in order to discover the truth," Morvran admits.
"And what is the truth?" Aemma asks.
"The Lady of Larks was seen in many places on the Continent in the last ten years or so," Morvran explains, "Oxenfurt, Novigrad, some places in Redania and Aedirn. The last place she was officially seen before her untimely demise in Rivia was the Duchy of Toussaint."
"Toussaint? I've heard of that. They say it is a magical place." "Indeed," Morvran nods, "there is...something else of interest." "Go on." "Thirteen years ago, the Lady of Larks, as you have mentioned, was seen in King's Landing, only to disappear without a trace. Months later she returned, with what witnesses describe as a babe in her arms." "She...she had a child?" Aemma feigns surprise, though there was something of a shock. The child had to been her, but Aemma had been told she was born on Dragonstone that her father had brought her mother there when she was with child; no one had ever deigned to tell Aemma the Lady of Larks had disappeared before that fateful night when the princess was still a tot.
"Is...what do these sources say of the babe?" Morvran only shakes his head, "not much. There is...no definitive answer as to where the child was born. Some even doubt the Lady Lark ever had a child at all as she was never seen with the babe again when she returned to the Continent." "What about family?" Aemma asks, "perhaps she left the child with someone she trusted be it kin or otherwise."
"The Lady of Larks is said to be of relations with a nobleman," Morvran confirms, "his true name is...not well known, despite his fame throughout the Continent, but he is the Lady of Lark's older brother." "What is his name? Or what name does he go by?" "He goes by the moniker of...Jaskier."
Aemma does her best to conceal the swirling emotions. The name of the man was the same name shown on the card of the Bard that shared a deck with her mother. Aemma suddenly flashback to the vision she had of her mother who was pregnant and walking through the snow with another man who dressed similar to the man on the Gwent card. (y/n), in her dream, called the man Julian. They really were related; the Lady (y/n) had a brother...and that meant this man was Aemma's uncle. Her uncle was somewhere on the Continent.
"I don't suppose you could tell me where this Jaskier was last seen," she says once she shakes herself of the shock.
"Again, the sources vary," Morvran tells her, "but the last definitive place was Toussaint; he was said to have an...infamous affair with the Duchess Anna Henrietta."
"Sounds like all roads lead to Toussaint then," Aemma nods as she stands, "thank you, Morvran. This was helpful."
"Wait," Morvran stops her, "I gave what you had requested, Aemma, now I ask you grant me one request in return." Aemma nods, not sure what to expect.
"Your family has been here for several months now," Morvran explains, "and it has occurred to me that I have not once ever had the honor of meeting your dragons, at least yours. In person specifically; it is one thing to see them in the sky, I would wish to see one up close."
"I...suppose I could make time on the morrow to introduce you to Cirillia," Aemma nods, "if we are indeed to be bonded in marriage as your father wishes, then perhaps it is only fitting my...intended share some kind of bond with my dragon."
Aemma walks out of the study, processing what she had learned. If anyone could actually set the record straight, apart from her mother, then it would be the next best thing which in this case is her next of kin. Question now is where could she find this long lost uncle. Perhaps she would need to start in Toussaint.
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Later that night, Aemma tried to sleep, but her mind was still swirling with so many thoughts over what she learned today. In addition, she was afraid to sleep for fear she would experience the same nightmares she had the night before.
She heard screams from outside, forcing her to sit up in bed. Aemma, placed a hand over her mouth, realizing it was Laena; her stepmother was going into labor again. Aemma knelt by the bed in prayer at this moment; to whatever gods where up there be they the gods of Old Valyria or to the Mother from the Seven with hopes that her Muna and the child she was to bring into this world would survive the brutal battlefield that is the birthing bed.
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Laena screamed with each push and each contraction, but still nothing had come as her labors continued. She was exhausted, close to losing consciousness both from her labors and the loss of blood, and fear starting to settle in that she may not make it out of this alive.
Daemon meanwhile stood by the door, hoping beyond hope that the physicians and midwives would be able to save his wife and deliver the babe that was fighting to come into this world.
Alas, the doctor approached Daemon with a somber look in his eye, "I'm exhausted every technique I can muster," he informs the prince, "the babe...will not come." "...Oh my brave girl," Daemon mutters, knowing what this meant, "is...is there nothing that can be done?"
"There is...one technique I can try," the physician admits, "we can bring the babe out by means of the knife. Cut open the womb to save the babe." "Will the mother survive it?" Daemon asks. The physician shakes his head.
Daemon shakes his own head back as answer when the physician looked to him asking permission to carry out the procedure. The prince would not put his wife through that. There was nothing that could be done.
Before anything else could be said or done, Laena got up from the bed, knowing there was nothing that could be done to save her or the child. She was not about to leave this world the same way the late Queen of Westeros had.
If she was to die, it was to be on her terms. If Laena Velaryon was to leave this world and her children, then she would do so as who she was always was meant to be...a dragon rider.
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Silence was heard in the halls, and Aemma wondered if that meant her new sibling was born, and if her mother had survived. Aemma looked out the room to see what was going on. It was quiet.
Then Aemma heard a sound from outside the castle. A low groan from one of the dragons.
It sounded like Vhagar...and it sounded like she was sad.
Aemma looked outside to see the great dragon was out there lying where she always did when she wasn't flying. And below she saw a figure approaching the beast. Aemma could see the figure staggering, like they were struggling to walk.
Eyes wide, Aemma knew right away who it was. She quickly rush out the room and down the halls, not sure what she was going to do, or what she could do, but she was desperate.
Alas, by the time Aemma reached the outside, it was too late.
Laena cried out the command in High Valyrian in utter agony, and Vhagar...reluctant as she was, opened her mouth and the flames that came forth surround and consume her rider, who welcomed the firey death as a great embrace.
Aemma couldn't even scream, after what she had just witnessed. She could only falter to her knees, tears spilling forth as she started to mourn for the second time in her life over the loss of a mother.
Daemon stood behind Aemma, saying nothing and silently grieving as he knelt and held Aemma in his arms while Aemma called for her Muna in tears.
Chapter 34
#hotd#the witcher#daemon targaryen#laena velaryon#rhaena targaryen#baela targaryen#morvran voorhis#avallac'h#crevan espane aep caomhan macha#ciri#eredin breacc glas#caranthir#imlerith#oc#geralt of rivia#geralt x reader#jaskier
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For your request event ~ how about this soft prompt
❛ you got me flowers? ❜
With Námo x Reader? They're super surprised that the Doomsman got them flowers and honestly he's so awkward and kinda a mess because he's not very good with emotions<3
“The bouquet”
Pairing: Námo x fem. reader (Maia / Second Person POV)
Themes: Soft
Warnings: None
Summary: The Doomsman brings a gift for you.
Word count: 700 words
Want to be tagged? Want to know the rules? Read all here.
The world was all gold when Námo wandered outside his halls. The new light, the golden one, fashioned to bring light and warmth, hung high in the sky. He blinked and looked away. Námo was not used to the light. He had spent far too much time in the halls and had grown far too used to the soothing light of the stars and the Two Trees. This new light, the one that brought morning, would take a lot of getting used to.
He wandered still, taking in the world around him. So much had changed after the chaos that followed the destruction of the Two Trees. There were Maiar everywhere, armed and armored. Oromë's hounds and his aided them. The fact that such measures were needed was tragic. They were the Ainur. No one should have been able to attack them where they were the strongest, yet it still happened. Ungoliant should have been dealt with ages ago before she grew powerful, but Manwë chose mercy. He did not just show mercy to her; he showed mercy to his brother as well. The result of that mercy was the destruction of the Two Trees and the first kinslaying.
Námo shook his head. Now was not the time for dark thoughts and apportioning blame. The day was too beautiful for that. He was meeting you after a long while. His duties kept him away, and he looked forward to seeing you again. That was not all. He wanted to give you something but had no idea what it should be. Námo could deliberate on the fate awaiting fëar in moments and pronounce the doom of others in the blink of an eye. But when it came to this, a gift worthy of you, he was at a loss.
Námo looked around, hoping something would inspire him. He did not stop until he came across a meadow. The air was sweet with the scent of wildflowers and roses and daisies. He remembered the talk amongst the Valier, how they loved receiving flowers at surprising moments. They considered such gestures sweet and thoughtful. Perhaps you might consider such a gesture touching as well. Námo debated his choices and made one.
You had been seated under the shade of an old oak tree, reading, when he found you. Námo hesitated. He was sure he had chosen wrong. Perhaps you will not like his gift and reject it. Maybe you would be disappointed, but try not to show it. Perhaps...
"My love?" You had seen him looking this way and that, as if dithering. His hand was behind his back. He was hiding something from you. "My love, is everything all right?"
Námo flushed, his pale cheeks turning a deep crimson. It was another aspect of his personality that stunned him. He was the Doomsman, the Judge, and here he was, flustered like an elfling caught with their hand in the sweet jar.
"I..." He inched his way toward you. His tongue had tied itself into knots, and he felt butterflies in the pit of his stomach. "I... I..."
"Goodness." Your book was all but forgotten. You rose, your instincts on high alarm. Had something terrible struck? "My love, what is wrong? Did something happen?"
Námo shook his head, his throat dry. His fana trembled from both anticipation and fear. That shocked him—that he could be fearful.
"Nothing is wrong, my love." Mustering what courage he had left, Námo held out the hand he kept behind his back. "For you."
"Oh." Your hands flew to your mouth, your lips curling into a delighted smile. In his hand was a bouquet of roses, wildflowers, and daisies, all mixed with sweet-smelling wild herbs. Their scent was a delight, and your countenance just softened. "You got me flowers?"
When you reached out and took the blooms out of his hand, Námo let out a sigh of relief he did not realize he was holding in. He looked on anxiously when you brought it closer and took a deep, satisfying whiff. Everything hinged on what you said next.
"These are so beautiful," you murmured. Námo's gift was sincere, and you were deeply touched. You never expected him to think of a gesture like this. He was always formal and proper, and this was a beautiful surprise. "Thank you."
A smile of joy and satisfaction lit up Námo's face.
Tags: @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese @fictionfordays @floraroselaughter
#Námo#námo mandos#Námo' soft#námo x reader#the silm#soft#the ainur#the valar#the maiar#fanfiction#writeblr#💫a world of whimsy writes
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◜One would believe that prophecies hold nary a value if they cannot be verified, and I would agree with them. For what meaning do they have when naught is demonstrated to the naked eye to solidify the believe that such ominous view of the future can exist otherwise?◞ Earnest and honest is the Twilight Sword answer as it is an exercise of contemplation, pensive stance in pinching his chin further displaying that his mind drifts to the topic at hand, teller that his answer is not fully-fledged yet despite the fact that he has only answered half of Thoma's question.
Dáinsleif is no man to believe in foolish and empty words when there is no way to demonstrate that such prophecy is true, not when he counts with a vast network of information at his disposal as part of a gift of union with the Axis Mundi— or perhaps merely a tool to assist him in a passive manner in his pursuit to find balance in this world made suitable for human life, never disregarding once that just like humans bloomed so did gods pertaining to an old world order that may be no more. And that mighty creatures that predate the existence of time measure in this world have as much right to dwell this star, too.
◜Abundance of time and experience have taught me to verify serious statements like prophecies when they are revealed. Until then, my faith in them is none.◞ Perhaps if he didn't have the means to do so on his own he would have a different position in this matter, a more open mind to trust the word depending of its source. Nevertheless, the truth is... ◜As it happens with events destined to occur, prophecies are seeds waiting for the right moment to germinate and grow into what's written in the stars. Remember: stars are connected to fates, so they are to the future.◞
As frozen stars embedded into celestial sapphires are, Dáinsleif's soul can look into the past— whereas his eyes can gaze into the future as his material body remains in the present.
Response made, contemplative moments come to a halt and his gaze lingers upon tranquil waters dancing at lunar's might. Waters that once upon a time used to be blanketed with a veil of stars that were not mere reflection of the celestial dome above. The seraph's attention returns to the flame warrior in time to catch his musings. Prophecies are connected to calamities. To that, there is nothing Dáinsleif can refute, for there is an undeniable truth woven in those words. His pessimistic mind can agree as much, not without reason, regardless. Prophecies serve as a warning of undesirable outcomes in the future, but also of hope: either at the notion that an individual whose power can solve the matter may come or as a preparation in case such individual doesn't exist. So those who do exist may do everything in their hands to prevent a tragic outcome.
Color him curious the moment which grimness is brought at the premise that any effort other individuals may put can be easily overlooked. As someone who no longer cares about pride —it has passed alongside the kingdom hidden in darkness' depths, and even then time and insight of the past have become tellers of a cruel truth: it was all a farce—, Bough Keeper fails to understand what is grim about it nor why Thoma's heart dampens at that thought. However, truth be said he wouldn't entirely say that the merit belongs to the final nail in the coffin alone.
◜Regardless of ancestry, human power is as valuable as divine might.◞ Hard to believe as it may be due to the sheer power imbalance betwixt mankind and god, it's one of Teyvat's many secrets. Stellar eyes narrow in an exercise to reminisce what this world was like in the cataclysmic era, back when all seas were dyed black and sanguine rain precipitated from enraged heavens.
◜Knights of Favonius and anyone capable to fight protected Mondstadt how long they could until Barbatos made his intervention and called forth Dvalin. Millelith kept the star-beasts at bay in a large radius surrounding the Chasm so they wouldn't march towards Liyue Harbor until the rocks felt earth's lament no more because of a long gone Yaksha and the men who accompanied him. I could continue to tell you similar tales, but I wager you know where all of them lead. If anything, I would say it is a matter of encountering the right individuals who can put an end to what others could not. That doesn't make them the only ones deserving of recognition, everyone is for their deeds.◞
@scarletooyoroi from here.
#scarletooyoroi#◟༺✦༻◞ lament of a fallen seraph ┊thread.┊#◟༺✦༻◞ sapphire flames in their wake ┊ic.┊#◟༺✦༻◞ τόμος θ: Λυκόφως οι θεοί που πέφτουν┊advent of ragnarök.┊
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🦚 Aventurine 🦚 Break the Chain, Run Towards the Sunlight
Kakavasha looked into the mirror tilting his head so that he could get a better view of the burn scar on his neck. SLAVE, against his will, had become an integral part of his identity, for even after freeing himself from his physical shackles, he was always at the mercy of the chains of fate. He had neglected to tend to the presence of this marking, and so Kakavasha had grown used to being the bearer of its curse.
Born at the mercy of Sigonia-IV. Living under the shackles of the IPC. Dying in fate’s chokehold.
But a premature death was no longer for him.
He wanted to live…he wanted his life to outshine the gemstone he once donned as an alias, and show that he wasn’t going to let the chains of despair hold him down any longer.
The first step in doing so was cutting ties with his past misfortune. He wanted to strip himself of the branding, so that at first glance, he wouldn’t be immediately perceived as some object that had managed to run astray. Kakavasha initially considered simply hiding the brand, but running away was not his idea of moving on.
Forcefully removing it would not only be painful, but it would leave a larger, bloody mess in its place. He ran his fingers over the rough skin, contemplating his course of action. It was there, and wasn’t going to go away so easily. Somehow, he wanted to turn a tragic reminder into a symbol of rebound and rebirth, but what? How could one possibly twist a brand of slavery into an emblem of hope?
Kakavasha wished he could rip it off and his neck heal without a trace, leaving behind only the mental scarring that cannot be seen. He gripped at his skin, imagining himself tearing away from the last chains that bound him to the IPC. All of his blood pouring from his neck, drenching his clothing and pooling on the floor, would be but a small price to pay for true freedom.
Spilling blood to gain the upper hand was ingrained in his nature. For Kakavasha, it was a way of survival. The sting from his fingers pinching his neck snapped him back to reality. He wanted to move away from this life, not dwell in the same darkness that clasped his neck.
If only I could be reborn anew, he thought as he gently soothed the now sore area on his neck. Reborn freer and more graceful than ever, like a phoenix rising from the ashes.
That’s when an idea hit him.
Kakavasha pulled back the layers of his top to expose the burn scar to the artist.
"A phoenix here, if you please," he said, pointing to the brand. "Covering it up is my top priority, and I trust in you to work your magic."
The tattoo artist pushed aside the fur and collar of Kakavasha's outfit in order to get a better look for himself. He studied the burn for a moment, squinting his eyes.
"Another IPC survivor. You don’t see them every day," he said in a gruff, yet casual voice.
"Another?" Kakavasha asked, surprised.
"When you’ve been doing this as long as I have, you’ll see a thing or two," he said, one of his long Foxian ears flickering. "So, you lookin’ for just a coverup?"
Kakavasha nodded his head.
The gruff Foxian man thought for a moment, once more studying the burn. "Hmm…I got just the thing for you, but you’re gonna have to take off your shirt for this one."
Curious, Kakavasha took off the layers of his shirt and dropped them to the side, revealing his pale, worn skin. The artist studied him further, observing every imperfection that up to the imprint on his neck. He scratched his beard in thought, before being struck with inspiration and snapping his finger.
"This is pretty doable," he said, looking up and down Kakavasha’s left side.
"And how much you askin’ me for it?"
The man thought for a moment, then shook his head. "It’s on me, son."
"Credits aren’t an issue to me. I have more than plenty to spare."
"You earned those with far more blood than they’re worth. Consider my work a gift from one survivor to another."
Kakavasha turned around and glanced at the Foxian man’s neck. Beneath his short, disheveled brown hair, he could make out an ornate skull tattoo, with its teeth located approximately where an IPC brand of slavery would have been singed. He decided to not press further questions, for additional words were not needed for him to understand that him and Kakavasha’s hearts were one in the same.
It took quite a few hours, and Kakavasha would’ve found it hard to stay still, if he were not already exhausted. He was overjoyed that at long last, he was truly breaking free of the shackles that once held him down. Though he still felt as if he deserved every ounce of torment, and perhaps much more, he was relieved to have such immense weight lifted from his shoulders.
After he was done, the artist turned the chair around to face a large mirror, and nudged at Kalavasha to look at it. Immediately, his eyes began to fill with tears.
No longer could he tell that the word SLAVE was seared into his skin. The burn was practically invisible underneath the crown plumage of a glorious phoenix. Not only was the coverup a success, his entire left side was adorned by the body of the majestic bird, its tail feathers in the shape of a peacock and its wings spreading out to hide even more painful reminders along his body.
After all he had managed to tough out, the sight of a beautiful bird rising over the scars of his past makes him cry?
Indeed it did, and Kakavasha let the tears run down his face and allowed himself to smile.
The Foxian man put his large, calloused hand on his shoulder. Kakavasha looked up to see him, too, smiling with the same glimmer of hope in his eyes.
"Safe to say you love it, son?" he said.
At a loss for words, he nodded his head.
"I’m glad. A pretty boy like you deserves himself a pretty bird."
Despite the man declining payment numerous times, Kakavasha still felt guilty letting such fine artistry go unpaid. As a “tip,” he left behind a few thousand credits, a hefty amount that the Foxian tattoo artist could’ve easily pocketed under the table. Instead, since there was no use attempting to return the credits to Kakavasha, he picked them up and smiled at them fondly.
"These will do better for someone less fortunate. Not all of em’ end up as lucky as he did," he thought as he secured them in an inconspicuous location.
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☽ 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐨 ☾
"𝑯𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈; 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆, 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒐𝒎 𝒐𝒇 𝑰𝒍𝒖𝒗𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒓."
Whenever I read about Námo in the Valaquenta, this line in particular stands out to me. At first this seems just like a straightforward explanation of his prophetic abilities, yet after thinking about it for a while, I find that it hides a rather tragic fate, perhaps even one of the most tragic fates at least among the Ainur - which is ironic, considering that his power is tied to fate among other things.
Because here's the thing: Námo has all this knowledge about the future, but he cannot use it to change anything. at least not on his own - when Lúthien sings for him, he wants to, but he still has to appeal to Manwë, and Manwë in turn has to determine what Eru's will is.
If you take a closer look at when Námo speaks, how he acts in certain situations and what he says, it becomes even clearer that he's not supposed to interfere.
The Valaquenta states that Námo "pronounces his dooms and judgements only at the bidding of Manwë". when he does, these are the only times we get longer dialogue from him, as he provides some reasoning for his statement as well as telling people what to expect (most importantly in the Doom of the Noldor).
The other times Námo speaks are short comments, mostly in response to other characters making fateful decisions. Examples include:
"Thou hast spoken"
- In response to Fëanor saying he won't give up the Silmarils
"And yet remain evil. To me Fëanor shall come soon"
- In response to Manwë to saying that good will eventually come from evil
One comment Námo makes is a little different from the previous ones:
"Not the first"
- In response to Fëanor claiming he'll be the first of the Eldar to be slain in Aman if he is forced to give up the Silmarils
In this case Námo corrects Fëanor, but as the text states immediately after, the other people present don't understand what he means. I suppose not even Námo can help being snarky sometimes (in fact I like to imagine him as a sarcastic person).
Aside from the previously outlined situations, Námo remains silent for the most part. The most striking example is his silence when Manwë decides to forgive Melkor, which in my opinion supports the theory that Námo is strictly forbidden from using his knowledge of the future (or possible futures) to interfere and/or change the course of fate. he's quiet while others make their fateful decisions, and comments or judges them only after they have done so, as mentioned above.
I suspect either Eru himself decreed this, since he's the one who gave Námo this "gift" of foresight (though I'd rather call it a burden or a curse) and/or Námo forces himself to stay silent as he's very wise and probably understands just how much even the smallest act of interference could change everything forever.
Either way, it must be painful to know of all the sad, tragic and horrible things that happen in the Silmarillion and Tolkien's other writings in advance and be unable to help. While the encounter with Lúthien is painted as the only time Námo was moved to pity, I think his knowledge weighs heavier on him than we can even begin to imagine.
I'm sure Námo has found himself wishing he could do something on several occasions, but he keeps it to himself. he's supposed to be a neutral judge and observer, one of the more passive powers in Arda. Whether his famous curse is even a curse or merely a prophecy isn't quite clear either (read more about that here).
At least Námo has Irmo, Vairë and Nienna to support him. He may not be able to tell them what's wrong most of the time and he seems to have difficulties expressing his emotions, but I'm sure they comfort him to the best of their ability whenever he reaches out🖤
#late night musings#namo#námo#namo mandos#namo is very tired#my headcanons#valar#tolkien#silm#silm analysis
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This is a terrible day for the both of them - one stained with bad memories of both pain and loss. Kaeya knows, however, that it's especially awful for Diluc. The day where he'd lost his beloved father and suffered a betrayal from his adoptive brother, all on the day of his birth, certainly must have made it feel like the worst day in the winery owner's life. It comes as no surprise that Diluc would come to despise it then, given all that it must have represented to the fiery man.
All the more reason for Kaeya to keep a watchful eye on his brother from a distance. Diluc changed the location that he spent his birthdays in every year, but since the noble remained, ultimately, in Mondstadt, Kaeya is able to tail behind him year after year, making sure that his brother is safe as he grieves that which he's lost. Starsnatch Cliff, Stormbearer Mountain, and even the ruins of Old Mondstadt, to name a few - if there's a rime or reason behind these choices, Kaeya isn't certain as to what it is. He finds himself surprised by this year's option, however, given Diluc's reluctance to remain near the Dawn Winery - then again, he supposes that the spot is secluded enough, nonetheless.
Still, as he watches his older brother - if Diluc even allows Kaeya to call him that - Kaeya is unable to ignore the way his chest aches. This, he thinks, is not how he wants his brother to spend a day that should be a happy one - standing in front of the grave of the man who raised them both, likely blaming himself for not being able to save him. Kaeya knows that feeling well, as he's wondered, time and time again, if he might have been able to change things had he been faster - had he arrived just a few moments sooner, maybe even a few precious seconds...
Could he have saved Crepus? Might he have spared Diluc that pain? Maybe prevented his dear older brother from leaving Mondstadt for so long?
He knows that there's no point in dwelling on 'what ifs'. Not anymore - not when the past is written in unbreakable stone. Kaeya doesn't realize it as his feet carry him forward, out from behind the cusp of trees that he'd be using for cover and towards the other man - not until he's standing almost directly behind his brother with a hand outstretched, reaching for his shoulder. Very nearly, the Cavalry Captain snatches his hand back at the realization hits, but something stops him - two words that now sit upon his tongue, urging him to speak. How long has he wanted to say them out loud? To offer that which Diluc deserves to hear, whether he wants to accept the words or not? How long has he feared uttering them?
And yet, that grave that lays just out of his line of site seems to whisper something, encouraging him like a set of warm hands on his shoulders - a parent, giving Kaeya that push he needs. Maybe Crepus is here after all.
If he is, Kaeya owe him this much as well. "... Luc?"
--- if his dear, baby brother wholeheartedly believes he does not realize he's being TAILED, then it is evident they have TRULY grown apart as brothers. Every year, it's like this. Every year, Diluc chooses a NEW location to journey to, on or around his day of birth, as a means of grieving by his lonesome. He doesn't want the pestersome ' are you okays. ' The looks of pity . . . the forced, uneasy smiles as gifts are pushed into his hands and repetitive reassurances are shoved down his throat. It does not get any easier, no matter how many times the record plays back, and though his methods of coping may be relatively UNHEALTHY, it's the only way he knows how to keep from taking the EASY way out.
Mayhap this is why Kaeya sees fit to trail after him every year. To ensure this year, or the next, or the one to follow is not the year he permanently loses a brother, too. Their relationship is strained -- irreparable, so Diluc believes after his own, VIOLENT actions that fateful, tragic night -- but at least they are both alive. Well ? Hardly, but despite it all, they both still manage.
He hasn't seen Crepus in a while. Father. Life has been terribly busy, this year--- or maybe this, too, is how he's managing to continue getting up and getting by. If he's working, it's less time to think. To hold himself prisoner within his own thoughts until they, inevitably, suffocate and drag him down. It's a wonder he's not six feet under yet . . . certainly RECKLESS enough to have secured a reservation or two at death's door, by now, but he doesn't FEAR death. It will come for everybody, at some time or another . . . sooner for some, later for others, Crepus being a saddening example of the former.
It's his fear of dying ALONE that has him dragging himself back to the winery, some late nights, Adelinde on the other side of the door with a first aid kit and an hour long lecture. Would he be missed ? Not for his place in the professional world, but the PERSONAL life he'd carved the substance out of ? Would Jean miss him ? Klee ? Would the Angel's Share and Dawn Winery staff miss HIM, or their paychecks ?
. . . would Kaeya ? Despite his own brother nearly ENDING HIS LIFE so many years ago ? A man in mourning nearly turned a murderer ? Hearing his baby brother's voice adds ample weight and VOLUME to these thoughts, and Diluc, as he turns to face the only other family he has left, stiffens in trepidation.
" What ? " He winces at the harsh tone of his voice. Guarded--- he shouldn't be GUARDED around his own damn brother. This is precisely why they're estranged. Distant. He hates it -- HATES it, and he knows Crepus is somewhere, SCOLDING him for his tone. Deep breath in, deep breath out, Diluc takes a second to change his approach, to something less standoffish. " You've been following me for a while. Every year, you do this, Kae. Why ? " He tilts his head, frowning. " Whether you choose to believe me or not is on you, but I already promised I wouldn't disappear again. If it's Jean who sent you, or Adelinde, you can double or triple that message. Speak your mind, why are you here, if not to visit father's grave ? "
@ironbloodcd ;; ♥ THAT SWEET, BROTHERLY PAIN.
#ironbloodcd#[ it's no longer diluc's birthday but SHHH. it's never too late for him and kaeya to make up. <3#OBVIOUSLY you can continue this. it's about time they said sorry to each other#and had a chance at happiness. ]#muse ;; DILUC ( ANSWERED ASK )
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Top 5 Video Game Characters?
Ooooh characters this is hard… This is not in order because that’s impossible for me lol
1) Estinien Wyrmblood - FFXIV: tall stoic fully armored elf boy that is broody and mean, is actually extremely gorgeous with long white hair, has a tragic past, is very protective, and hilariously has no concept of money. He’s been in the game for like 10 years and his growth as a character has been phenomenal to watch and follow. He feels like a friend and old lover lmao
2) Edea Lee - Bravely Default: aside from having one of my favorite visual designs of all time, she’s adorable and stubborn and so very passionate about what is right and wrong. She grew up very sheltered/indoctrinated and seeing her confronted with the direct opposite of everything she was taught and having such moral strength of character to say “fuck all this we are so wrong and we need to fix everything!” is amazing to me. Mgr gr grr
3) Mio / M - Xenoblade Chronicles 3: THE HOPE. THE LOVE. THE DESPAIR. THE SEEING YOUR LOVED ONE TURNED INTO SUCH A MONSTER OVER THE INEVITABILITY OF FATE YOU SACRIFICE YOURSELF TO MAKE IT ALL END. THE “WE WILL FIND EACH OTHER ALWAYS NO MATTER WHAT REINCARNATION WE’RE IN”. THE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND FOR THAT I MUST END THIS IN THE DESPERATE PRAYER THAT NEXT TIME IT WILL WORK NEXT TIME WE WILL BOTH MAKE IT YOU WONT BE ALONE AGAIN. THAT there won’t be a next time. It’s time to let go.
I’m so sorry but XC3 has maybe one of my favorite canonical romances of all time in Mio and Noah / M and N that it hits almost every single YES YES YES button of mine and makes me fucking feral. Mio also has just a gorgeous design and her story of accepting her inevitable demise to the last days counting down in story is so beautiful and painful. It’s a story of grief and coming to terms with what is so unfair when everyone around you still has time left that you don’t. I literally cried writing this thinking about it. I adore Mio. Honestly it was a competition between Nia and Mio on which xenoblade catgirl to pick but Mio is such a clear winner for me.
4) HK-47 - KOTOR: Haha funny murder robot makes me laugh. Also the loyalty. There is a case to be made for the genuine loyalty HK-47 has for Revan outside of his programming, and I love them. That’s my metal murder son. He’s also just very interesting narratively! That hints about who you really are and such, and his use in KOTOR 2 is most excellent.
5) Regill Derenge - Wrath of the Righteous: it’s the current favorite most special boy! He hits all the checkboxes okay: knight, stoic/cold, resolved in his ideals, morally questionable methods/the greater good/ ends justify the means, unconventionally attractive, sexy voice, older man. He gets bonus points for seeming extremely straight forward but there’s so much nuance and stuff going on under the hood so to speak, and he’s an awesome example of subtle storytelling in his ideals, motives, and contradictions/hypocrisies! I won’t go too into him because, well, he’s my current favorite, and I can talk forever, but my favorite is his relationship with Yaker. He’s always hard on him, and always talking negatively about being loved by his subordinates, yet… even your companions can see that’s not the case. Not just Ember but Lann will bring up his relationship as a mentor to Yaker, and Regill admittedly calls him “a good plant I’m bad soil” almost begrudgingly. He has self banter too where he has concerns about how his men will fare without them, sounding almost anxious. Lastly, and this is huge, how the points are calculated in his Act 5 quest during the trial. Mechanically, several things in the game affect this, but ultimately having points is BAD and getting 3 points is the immediate failure. You get points by things like being on a chaotic mythic path, accepting the profane gift from nocticula, or trying to reason with Baphomet. Most everything else gives no points, making them neutral. Only TWO THINGS give you negative points which are things he actively approves of: being a Hellknight yourself, and then making Yaker your hellknight ambassador, which involves standing up to Regill and protecting Yaker from unfair punishments. Regill mechanically approves of this MORE than being on the aeon path! That’s huge! He’s a bit of a hypocrite/liar in this regard and I love him for it, he’s more attached to his men than he lets on, and has a much deeper appreciation of Yaker than his overt actions suggest.
I can easily say much more, but that’s good enough for now.
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