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roselibrary · 1 year

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𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐢𝐧𝐞 || 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞

Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon! Reader

Trigger Warnings: murder, targcest, eventual dark!aemond, yandere!aemond, obsessive behaviour, typical targ madness

Summary: Aemond would have his sea-nymph one way or another.

Requests are open!

Summer blossomed like the pink buds on a cherry tree coming to life the day the young Prince Aemond realised his affection for his niece. She had ensnared his soul and enraptured his heart like the vines of ivy devouring the exterior of a Keep. Silver locks and lilac spun eyes that beheld all the secrets in the world, it seemed. Soft-tanned skin – a perfect blend of her mother and father though the same could not be said for those she called brothers – that beamed soft gold in the light of the sun and lips that looked as if only the sweetest of fruits had kissed them. Her hair shone pearlescent in a similar fashion to the decorations often found woven into her curly smooth locks. They fascinated him; the way the peals glimmered in the light and emerged from her curls like the foam atop a crashing wave.

More Velaryon than Targaryen in truth was she. She, too, had no dragon to call her own but instead proclaimed the sea as her abode and its treasures her horde. He wished to be considered a valuable item amongst those she already kept. Soft-spoken and gentle in nature she was her mother's pride and joy – the image of her grandmother they deemed the sea nymph. Sometimes, he wondered if she could grow a tail much like the mystical mermaid on the sigil of House Manderly and if she could, would she finally join her beloved sea and leave them all to wither on land? Those thoughts never brought him any comfort. Instead, he remained grateful that for as much as she wished to join the sea in all ways; she simply was unable to.

He often prayed to the gods in thanks for her inability to simply vanish on the waves.

It became lonely, living in such cold solitude, after a while and none could deny the younger prince led a cold, solitary life. His other kin shone so brightly, vivaciously and with such vitality that it was easy for him to fall into the shadows, the darkness, and the madness. He was a scarred second son of a King who did not even deem his firstborn son his heir. Aemond believed deeply in tradition and the stability such a thing brought to the realm; he could not fathom his elder half-sister bringing chaos with her untraditional succession claim. His sister would openly have a bastard follow her on the throne. Perhaps that’s where his true sentiments lay; he did not despise his sister for being a woman with a powerful agency, or even for being the heir to the throne, but for what would come after his sister's succession. What precedent would it set if bastards could inherit before trueborn children? What chaos would that sow within the realm? Aemond was a man of routine, tradition, and unrelenting stability all of which Rhaenyra was inherently posed to ruin.

Aemond didn’t wish to see his little sea nymph fall with her mother, as she undoubtedly would, due to her unending loyalty and devotion to her catastrophic family. His Gentle Dragon had no qualms openly expressing her love and devotion to the young men that would steal her birthright; it was bad enough the elder prince Jacaerys would steal her place upon the iron throne but downright insulting that, the younger than she, Lucerys would steal the birthright of her father from her person by claiming Driftmark. Aemond wished to see her claim her rightful place as the heiress of Driftmark as the only trueborn child of its heir, however, he would not want to see her seated atop the iron throne.

The monolithic, fearsome work of art did not suit the gentle and ever-changing disposition that she carried with her. Unmoving iron and sharp-edged swords should be nowhere near the supple curves and smooth skin lining her form, instead – if it were not for his no-good elder brother – he would sit upon the iron-casted seat of death in her place. He would be her King and she, his Queen. He had only to find a way to keep her with him permanently.

Perhaps his father's addled mind and desperation for peace would smile fortuitously upon the one-eyed prince, for once.

It had been many a year since his eyes last wandered upon the form of his beloved sea nymph – a name he only acknowledged in his mind's depths. The realm’s Gentle Dragon had returned to Kings Landing alongside the rest of her kin when protests were raised on the legitimacy of her younger brother's claim to Driftmark. Something many deemed rightfully hers. She glowed effervescent in her Velaryon blue and soft violet threaded gown the silk gently forming the curves of her body and flowing down the lengths of her arms and back. It seemed the dress also recognised the girl's call of the sea for it moulded like waves and rippled in each minuscule movement of her own. The train of the gown followed behind her like the sea lapping at the sand of the beach never quite reaching as far in as it wished.

She stood beside her mother with her head held high in pride as her uncle all but disparaged what remained of her mother's good name - if anything was left of it to begin with. It had delighted him to see the Strong princelings debased in such a public manner and their mother alongside them. He enjoyed much less the disparagement of the Crown Princess’s only daughter and the belief that she would fall to the same whims her mother had and beget only bastards for her future husband. No, that did not please the prince at all. He had observed and planned and waited patiently for many a year to gain his nymph and she would give him no bastards – he knew she wouldn’t. His nymph was too intelligent, dutiful, and self-aware of the consequences of such a thing to attempt such a crime.

Still, his blood boiled, and his hands clenched behind his back. It took an effort to keep his stoicism about his person in the face of his ever-present wrath but within a second his wrath was replaced with bewildered wonderment. Gone was Ser Vaemond’s head; instead the figure of his uncle stood tall, proud, and nonchalant in the face of such grotesque violence. Aemond felt the stirrings of admiration and conflict within his chest at such a sight. This man, his uncle, was a threat, an obstacle, his biggest unrelenting guard towards what Aemond had deemed his. All the realms knew of how Daemon favoured his girls over his boys, and none could deny how he had claimed the Gentle Dragon as much his own as his other brown-skinned, silver-haired darlings. He clenched his jaw. It seemed he would need to confide with another of his aspirations if he wanted to succeed where others had failed.

As if the man could hear the thoughts echoing in the princeling's brain the Rogue turned and leered. Aemond could see the taunt within his gaze, the dare for him to be as foolish as the man who kept his tongue but lost his head.

He could hear the whisper Daemon Targaryen’s eyes conveyed.

“Claim her, if you're bold enough.”

Just as he proved to his father when he claimed Vhagar; Aemond would once more prove that he was, indeed, bold enough.

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searchingforserendipity25 · 1 month

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An old draft resurrected for @feanorianweek! Inspired by last year's Back to Middle Earth bingo board option - gift giving. Some humor and some angst. In which Maedhros is a defiant prisoner, but not the most infuriating of his siblings.

Gift-Giving

In Valinor, there had been certain expectations from musicians - the minstrels, those few that devoted themselves fully to the Song.

Every noble house ought to have one among their members, and the noblest the best; Maglor had been very obliging in that regard. Maglor had been the example to follow, the prototype, the trend-setter.

Maglor, Maedhros had thought even then, had chosen the Song as much as it had chosen him. For its own sake; and also so that he did not have to choose anything else less great and mighty.

Minstrels were for rites, time-keeping, celebration and beauty. Minstrels were for the blessing of the fields. Minstrels were an honour to their kin, and an adornment.

Beleriand changed things. In Beleriand, Song was power, and Songs of Power needful weapons used beyond the value of their beauty alone.

Unfortunately, kingship was also power, and not one that could lightly be set aside. Fortunately, Macalaurë had always been very able at managing a number of tasks, as long as he could accomplish them in the most impressive and aggravating performance possible.

For thirty years he ruled singly, second-born of a great house in exile, making Siege against one of the Powers, he that first Sang discord into the very matter and memory and making of the world.

Morgoth was besieged. Maitimo might be prisoner, hostage, slave and victim, but there was some satisfaction in knowing the manner of his binding.

Treachery there had been, and foolish anguish - but he would not have chosen other. He could not have chosen otherwise; and at least this time, when he suffered the consequences of one of his brother’s irreverence, there was a bitter pleasure in the paying of it.

No gift could be sweeter to him than the memory of the song borne over the great dark stillness of Thangorodrim. The voice soaring to the heights, saying,

HAIL DECEIVER, SACKER AND THIEF, FROM ANOTHER MURDERER: HOW IS IT TO BE LOATHED AND REGRETTED BY ILÚVITAR, THY VERY OWN KING AND FATHER -

“Alas for what you have wrought, fell lord,” called Maitimo Nelyafinwë. The laughter wound the chains more treacherously still on themselves, but it was worth it, and frankly necessary to defiance to laugh sometimes. “Once he is started, the true challenge is to close his mouth.”

AND KNOW THOU HAST BEEN MADE TO FAIL AND FAIL AND FAIL EVER AND EVER UNTO THE VICTORY OF THE HEAVENS AND INDEED THE FORCE OF ELVES IN WRATH AGAINST THEE -

Morgoth roared, and shock the mountain, and thundered at the skies.

There was a pause. The echo rang, and then the silence; it set, and settled. Morgoth’s immensity blotted out the stars, and grew to match his complacency.

Maitimo waited. His brother held passionately to a theory, regarding the counting of time in silence as a mark authorship, from which every composed could be identified with enough familiarity, and his thesis presentation had gone something like this:

Somewhere in the far, far distance, there was the familiar sound of a harp being strummed in a uniquely obnoxious fashion.

GIVE ME BACK MY BROTHER THOU AVARICIOUS CUR-FACED DULL-WITTED CRAVEN -

For a moment, a terrible abyss of an instant, the full force of Morgoth's loathing filled the air in a silence made of many dimensions and many strains of incredulous rage.

“You heard him,” Maitimo said into it. Teeth-bared, words round and smiling in his mouth. “Cur.”

The chains were really quite dreadful, where they bit into flesh to lash the bones; but he wouldn't have said they weren't worth it, for the look on Morgoth's face just then.

#maedhros #maglor #morgoth #feanorianweek #the silm #silm fic #silmarillion #my fics

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lindalofbroome · 3 months

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original sketches

DELTORA FASHION CONCEPT ART V2

hello i have finally coloured some rough sketches of some deltoran fashions, a redraw of some really old sketches from ages ago.

im a pretty amateur concept artists and i hate designing clothes so truly was a challenge for me hahah BUT it has given me plenty of time to think of headcanons. im not sure what i've already posted about or not so im just gonna go ahead and rant

these characters were originally just models for me to draw the clothes on, so i didn't need to draw a new person every time; although in some of my earliest sketches of different people groups i did a bunch of people. but naturally these characters have developed a little and some of them are my beloved adin-era OCs <3

[about 4,500 words]

⬜ JALIS

since the jalis are reknowned for their warrior prowess and their signature gold armour, i thought it'd be neat that even if when they're not wearing the full set, they are always wearing their arm guards. it's a sense of pride and identity, they probably receive them as a rite of passage into adulthood. not every jalis is a knight, but they value a heart of courage and great feats and they all have them, and would wear them always (or at least special occasions if one prefers not).

i headcanon that jasmine was gifted her own set of arm guards as an expression of their respect and admiration of her. her relationship with glock grew so much and was cut off, but she earned her "heart of a jalis" and we didnt get to see much of jasmine and gers together, but theres plenty of time post-DQ3. i think my jasmine and the jalis thoughts should be a separate post though, otherwise this post will never end 😂

i dont imagine that the jalis had special party clothes, i think they just turn up in their usual clothes and get drunk and dance their hearts out maybe start a brawl thats none of my business

i cant remember why i've been giving them this geometric sort of pattern tbh. i think i drew someone at some point and wanted it to look different to mcbride's design but im not sure if i like it or not. the plus is that i can make diamond motifs though!!

i also cant really remember how my brown skin gold hair came to be 🤔🤔 wait backtracking i think what happened is that i decided to draw del people as black latinx inspired, so it wasn't that big a step to make jalis also dark skinned since they're both in the south (deltora geography is weird tho so like it's not that deep) and then i think i made them blonde as i "why not??" situation but tHEN i thought maybe it's connected to their jalis gold?

my headcanon is that their armour is made of a unique metal that can only be found in diamond territory, it's super hard, tough, and light etc. so maybe whatever is In The Ground is also in them and their blood and shows in their hair????

🥳 fun fact 🥳 wasn't until i had to draw steven and glock side by side that i had realised what i'd done?? i.e. steven canonically has brown skin gold hair too¹. which now forces me to think about whether it should be a coincidence (like it is) or shall i headcanon that steven and nevets' father was jalis² 🤔 ¹ pretty sure it's about the dichotomy, to show contrast but connection between the brothers. i have many steven and nevets thoughts but that should also be another post ² i am.

🟩 DREAD GNOMES

these characters are adin-era, so unfortunately this would be when the gnomes still hunt the kin. whats weird is that i realised that i was picturing the caramelly brown fabric that this gnome is wearing was the kin pelt and not the big furry parts?? i usually picture the kin as more like velvetty. idk what the thicker fur parts would be though?? literally any other animal i guess 😅 i dont know it doesn't make sense and it's only occurring to me right now i shall have to think about it lmao

anyway made them green because why not. maybe they come in different colours idk. this gnome is pre-gellick so does go out in the sun, gellick-era gnomes would be waaaaay more paler they probably looked white. this could be similar to the jalis and like theres something in the grounddd

gla-thon claims that the dread gnomes knew that lesser gems had weaker but the same powers of the great talisman gems (sots), but im not sure if they knew it before adin. would be interesting if they did 🤔 and how they figured it out?? (side note but now im wondering about how withick knew what to write about the gems??) would imply that if they got the great emerald than they could deduce there are others surely. unless they thought it was a freak accident/miracle. anyway we know they love gems and gold etc etc so they obviously decorate themselves with heaps of jewellery

triangle motifs in homage to their mountain 💚

i gave them a sort of war paint ritual. i'm not sure if they all do the same markings, but this one was specifically to symbolise a bow and arrow (arrow going up the nose). you can see it a bit better here lol. i also decided that sometimes they wear it for purely cosmetic purposes. im not sure what the substance is exactly though. i think in my head i was imagining something similar to kohl, but maybe not.

🥳 fun fact 🥳 bre-tak and az-zure are lesbians (i make the rules)

🟦 MERE

oooooh baby this is my guy my babygirl my everything

okay so i think this headcanon developed recently when i last drew sky of rithmere and i thought that mere superstition encouraged them to wear their charms in random spots to avoid them cancelling each other out. it could be construed to be they were inspired by the night sky and the pattern of the stars perhaps. this led them to prefer asymmetrical fashions, mostly prominent in the armour i put badr in

🥳 fun fact 🥳 badr means "full moon" 👀

i think i originally decided the mere had leather armour just to give them something different iirc but the mere characters we see are usually the lithe, speedy, crafty type, so maybe light, mobile armour does work for them lol. anyway the main reason is that i had the image of studded leather, and i was like ohohoho STARS

i generally think of them with muted colours but sometimes they have a bold blue for their prized garmants. like zillah and co, the leaders of rithmere in adin's time were described with bright blue and starry cloaks. (i checked the wiki just to check zillah's name lol and apparently it's actually canon they have leather armour?? so not sure why i thought otherwise) anyway i do currently have minecraft brain but i did vaguely remember that people made ultramarine pigment from grinding lapis lazuli into a powder and im not sure if thats something the mere would do or if there's some strong blue dyes they can get from plants or something native to their territory 🤔

actually im liking that idea now? it would be incredibly time-consuming and labour-intensive but that would add to its value?? real world lapis lazuli has a horrible yield rate of 1kg lapis to 30g of pigment apparently, but it's a strong pigment (unless i misunderstand). alternative name for ultramarine is "permanent blue" apparently so. anyway ultramarine irl is more of a paint pigment, but in roddaverse maybe the mere make a lucky blue dye to use on cloaks and scarfs and shawls etc for good fortune?? me frantically checking that i put badr and luisa's wedding garb in bold blue lmAO oh i did but it's a little muted. they mix in oils and stuff to make the paint, so it doesnt seem like a stretch that they can mix different ingredients or ratio to make a cloth dye (to my very amateur understanding).

so im imagining now that they have a special (probably secret within the mere) process to create bright blue thread speckled with white (also gold to me. im pro deltora lapis with gold) and weave it into their beautiful starry night fabric. the amount of labour and the use of their prized lapis lazuli makes it very special, and maybe some people think it's the lapis that makes the fabric lucky or maybe some people think it's the work of love and time that makes it lucky, maybe both.

🥳 fun fact 🥳 i forgot that "bless your lucky stars" is like a real saying until recently lol

a starry cloak is probably something only the really rich could afford, but i think that they are more like heirlooms and states of office? im not sure if these pieces are things that one would purchase or something they would receive. bit hard to imagine people doing it for free but maybe it's one of those staple things that they revere and everyone else works to support them as well etc like the cooks in noradz are prized. idk. but yeah like a poorer family couldn't get a new one, but they would have one that has been in their family for generations you know? and i think that there would be something about like. idk youre meeting up with your doctor or something and youre nervous and you put on your family's best clothes (the most lucky ones) and maybe youre cynical about the whole good fortune stuff but there's something comforting about wearing the cloak your mother wore and your grandmother and your great grandmother wore, who also had to do such things. something something gives you the confidence to make your own luck because youre no longer pessimistic and allowing avoidable mistakes to happen

this means that the mere giving adin a cloak was a REALLY big deal because they definitely dont just go throwing those around and they would probably only give it to an outsider in trade for a steeeeeeeeeeeep price. which of course means that there would be knock offs with bad quality dye. lmao thats perfect actually. like 10000% there would be merchants in rithmere trying to sell cheaper versions to people that are expensive but still affordable to the average person. some would be different shades of blue, but the more crafty might have dyes that are strong but not lasting.

oh also i headcanon that palace fashion was a conglomerate of aspects from all the tribes but this should be it's own post i think. but i just remembered that i put gold thread in badr's braids in the formal wear sketch. i did that to tie in with the veins/flecks of gold (technically pyrite) in irl lapis lazuli. as such, people at del palace were inspired to weave gold into their hair too.

also gives me another thing to ship badr and luisa lmao. badr can wear some gold and luisa can wear some blue as a treat for me <3 moon and stars ocs beloved

🟨 DEL

alright. okay so del is definitely very white western patriarchal coded (most just a bias of living in that type of society i reckon) but it sucks and i'm passionate about making del NOT that. i think i've said this a million times now but this should be it's own post too, but most succinctly del is a very vibrant, curious, and daring sort of culture (e.g. their recklessness, exploration, trading). they were already marrying non-deltorans before adin (i imagine that some might have dared to marry outside of del, but it would have been way more politically complex so it was rarer and often kept quiet and rural). people of del were moving to other countries (like dorne) and people were probably moving to del, so del is definitely a big mix of different people and languages and superstitions and stuff.

but anyway i wanted to set a sort of base for before that. i've had art on the wip pile for YEARS about this and i'd flesh this out properly when it's done lol (hopefully we see that day) but since the topaz has the power to summon spirits, i really wanted to develop an aspect of del culture around that? i was inspired by Día De Los Muertos (Day of the Dead) and i still want to do some more in depth research and explore it more properly, but i like the idea that del will celebrate their lost loved ones life, coming together to remember, if they were lucky the got to see and even talk to their spirits. maybe pre-talisman they did know about topaz properties and they had a big deposit of gems that they would wheel out for the festival and the huge pile under the full moon would be enough to allow the spirits and people to interact? anyway this is a longwinded explanation of why my sketches of del fashion could be latinx inspired.

circle motifs in homage to the moon. the trim decoration on luisa's scabbards are based on moon phases :D

i also arbitrarily decided that del people love swishy clothes. they're all about the drama of cloaks and twirling in sundresses etc it's fun. not sure if i will actually follow through with that lol or maybe that can just be luisa.

🥳 fun fact 🥳 i think hearing luisa laugh would heal me

there's no particular reason for why i've been drawing a lot of del people as black, other than maybe spite lol. i think i drew jasmine and that got the ball rolling. del is a blank enough slate that they can be anything. im tired of white people being the front runners asldkjfhalsdf. bUT again del is multicultural, so there isn't a particular look for anyone in del. being del is more a state of mind and being part of community i think. you move to del and you participate in their society in one way or another and boom youre del now they adopted you.

🌈 PLAINS

hiran attire inspired by french aristocratic fashion. i cant remember who posted about it but pretty sure this was something that circulated around the fandom at least a little bit at some point.

added some subtle rainbow to harlow's outfits because he's the strong silent type. but i suppose there are so much more gaudier and extravagant outfits.

i was going to say this was just hira fashion and not like, rural plains fashion but i guess this is the same for all of them. it's just like a general direction for what someone might wear.

the swirly patterns?? i dont know. i drew them when i did adin's pre-battle speech as the last supper but i dont think there's a particular reason. i remember that i was trying to do something unique because lief recognises the cup in the city of rats as the same/similar to the one in noradz, so there had to be something to be recognisable lol but i probably just did it this way because it's relatively easy to doodle, just takes a bit of time.

🥳 fun fact 🥳 harlow was a cook before the shadow invasion. out of desperation, he and many others had to train to defend hira. he's big with natural balance and reflexes so he excelled and is a pretty adept warrior, but he will always think of himself as a cook first, warrior second.

now the armour!! freshest headcanon piping hot. yesterday when i was colouring i was sitting there like wow you look like a tin can man and you are so boring. we went from pretty colours to blank. im almost certain the hiran soldiers were described as silver with white plumes, so i was planning on doing that but they had intricate details on their armour because they are Extra, so it has the swirly patterns you can see on harlow's coat.

but then suddenly i was like. what if. pearlescent.

and honestly i loved it so much i didnt care i was setting myself up for some difficult work ahead lmao. but my general idea was that they're armour looked like it was silver, but if the light catches it at the right angle it exposes the rainbow in it. most of these headcanons i've had baking for at least a year, but this is very new so i dont any hard details yet. kira mentioned enamel or ceramic and lowkey interested in having a look into that so that theres another armour material. maybe it's gonna be like special jalis gold and special plains silver. maybe something else. i also just remembered bismuth exists (same boat as gold as very heavy and soft) but i think maybe it's too loud, i think im liking the more subtle pearlescent thing aLTHOUGH it's a good metallic rainbow reference 👀 maybe there is an esteemed plains warrior with a rainbow sword

ANYWAY pearlescent armour really hit my heart because oh my god once upon a time the plains had a shore and they could visit the sea,,,, lowkey ocean vibes without an ocean [screaming crying cat spinning in a void.gif]

🥳 fun fact 🥳 i have NO idea what food harlow has made. i think i had ratatouille on the brain at the time????

🟥 RALADS

⚠ PROPAGANDA ALERT ⚠

ruby territory best territory. ruby symbol of happiness. warns of danger AND antidote to poison. double helpful. ralads are so sweet and so smart. architectural and engineering marvels. living in harmony with the land and beasts. D'OR!!! manus and nanion friendship underrated and so special to me. horse girls. AND. broome. god theres so much i could say about broome that i cant say anything. anyway you guys know im normal about broome yes of course. separate post etc etc

i think technically this is a headcanon but it's not that big a stretch surely but as above i always picture ralads as in harmony with nature. never take more than they need, know how to work with not against, theyre not the main attraction but an equal part of the bigger picture.. this isn't even about how smart they are with engineering and their perfectly round houses with bricks that are cut perfectly. im thinking about their knowledge of their world is so strong and wide and diverse. they have the most vibrant and potent dyes and pigments around, they have the most colourful fabrics and clothes around. the plains has many colours but it can't compete, and they have different styles. i think that the hirans would trade for the dyes though (maybe undercutting pre-adin, maybe more equal post-unification). i think that they would also have a pretty decent blue dye but it is still inferior to mere lapis lazuli blue. it is probably a dye that could be used for a mid range mere garment?

maybe it's the anime fault but i do usually imagine ralads as barefoot but i also drew iris with construction tools and just the idea of ralads walking around a construction site barefoot was not fun to me. but it could be a hobbit tough soles situation. anyway i drew some shoes so i had a vague reference if i wanted to draw ralad shoes.

obviously had a problem drawing warrior attire for a non-war race. but i thought what if i leaned into the stories the hirans tell about how the scouts and soldiers they send into the ralad wilds never returned and were often found dead with broken bones or whatnot. definitely big watching but never seen vibes imo. so i decked iris out in some camouflage lol

🥳 fun fact 🥳 im sure the ralads can whistle and whatnot to make birdcall signals, but i thought it was fun for iris to be able to make birdcalls with her flute

HEY ALSO headcanon about ralad hair. i was making some dragon art from a doran pov that i was going to save for that but i cant wait now. but we know from Tales that the ralads had a good relationship with the ruby dragons, could even summon them (unless im misremembering and it was more like a premeditated calling) but i was thinking about how they nest with .. human? hair. and i was thinking what if they grow out their hair? and then they offer it to a dragon when they are ready? i dont know if there's a nesting season for dragons but it could be something like that? ralad-dragon ceremony and party time. this isn't a rite of passage type of thing, just something that they like to do. not everyone does it probably, but most do it once, some people do it several or many times in their lifetime. it's an honour, but not really a sacrifice to them. it's part of the world balance and theyre willing to serve the dragons as the dragons serve them as they water the plants and the plants feed them and they feed beasts and beasts feed them.

also dont remember why i did the hair so bright and orangey??? genuinely perplexed lmao. probably was leaning into irl ginger but like THEYRE BLUE so i could probably make them actual red. not sure if this is also like a "theres something in the ground" situation also that makes their hair red but maybe 😂😂

side note but it's lowkey so wild to me that rodda was like yeah these guys are blue-grey with red hair, and then everyone else is like an average person, BUT the mountain people are short. like they're all just some guy basically???

it does make return to del so so funny because fallow is like AYO look at these MONSTERS they are UGLY and WEIRD

but i guess thats part of the motivation to give the deltora tribes some basic unique traits.

🟪 TORANS

okay so toran robes as inspired by japanese fashion is definitely something that's floated around the fandom for ages. i can't remember if it was before or after seeing posts about it that i started my first concept sketches but i think it probably had a hand in helping me visualise what rodda was talking about when she described their robes as butterfly wings when they speed-travelled. like yeah big deep sleeves and floor trailing hems WOULD probably look like colourful butterfly wings in the wind,,

🥳 fun fact 🥳 azami be always hungry. if only she knew someone who liked to cook 🤔

i don't have much to say design-wise, kinda just did various doodling. they would probably be second in extravagance to the plains, but it's a different sort of detail? they are probably a bit more refined and elegant than the hirans who are probably more bold in their designs. torans grow to be vain and selfish (it's already started by adin's time) so they probably have a high value on the beauty of their belongings, and it probably began with imagery of beasts and plants and dragons in amethyst territory, "true" pictures. but as time went on it probably distorted a bit and became idealised and/or fantastical etc.

OKAY SO my brain bluescreened just now for a moment trying to figure out how a people who use magic to make life easier, were also the ones known for their weaving, a manual hands-on task (lief's cloak is praised as being worthy of toran looms, implying high grade; pretty sure this was supposed to be a hint that his mother is not who he thinks she is also). some conclusions are 1) they weave with magic (sad, horrible), 2) they weave as a past-time, for fun etc (okay) but i took it to a third option

for a long time ive been thinking about toran magic as like, a balance and an energy thing (because i like that stuff lol) they cannot create something from nothing, only change things. they couldnt summon a fire, but they could change a piece of wood to fire and start a campfire, or those more advanced could even change the air into fire. but honestly it's left me a bit unsatisfied. like how does that explain the tora-del highway? hELL tora itself? what happened to the marble that got carved away? also how can that mountain have been so perfect there was no cracks or seams?? or did they carve those bits out lol. questions for another day.

anyway i was thinking about how hobbies are good for you, you dont have to be good at something but it's good to do stuff for fun and when you do crafts you get a cool thing at the end of it that you made. but it's also like skills you can develop? and i wondered what if weaving is a starter skill that they learn, some of them at least. maybe there are different activities, and they do the one that speaks to them the most. there were other types of artisans in tora, just not as talked about (i guess they're robes are pretty iconic so it's easy for people to go wow robes wow weavers who made fabric for the robes so soft) like i distinctly remember barda remarking about how tora was untouched and why bandits wouldn't have stolen the carved box that ended up holding the auto-reply letters from the palace.

so what im thinking is that maybe this builds a foundation to help torans visualise and perform their magic?

it actually solves a problem ive had in my headcanons i feel like ive got seven eyes open rn 😂😂 but in relation to del culture and traditions, i've been thinking about there being a physical and spiritual realm of course, and maybe it's the comfort of threes but it felt like something was missing.

i dont know what to call it yet, but im thinking the third thing is like the glue, it connects all things, it's in everything. it's like a third realm but also more of like a medium maybe? kind of sappy but we can just call this the magical realm for now. i actually used to think of toran magic as being like a subset of the greater deltora magic, but now im thinking it's more like torans are more receptive to the magic realm, as del are to the spiritual, and the ralads to the physical; theyre the experts in these things, which is why unified deltora is important 😂; likewise dread gnomes specialise in gems, jalis in combat, mere in cunning, plains in hope perhaps? literally never thought about it quite like this so maybe i will process it different later and designate different specialties.

so when the torans are young, they learn a craft and these skills help them sort of "tap into" the magical realm. so in the case i first thought of, when a toran weaver starts to see and interact with the magical realm, the easiest way for them to engage with it would be to think of it as weaving. they might see the magical realm as threads that connect everything, and weave things together to get what they want. a potter might see it as a malleable mass and sculpt what they want. a carpenter might see it as something to carve, something to break and put together.

the magical realm is not a concrete thing at all, up to interpretation, perhaps a unique experience to anyone who could glimpse in; don't strictly have to be toran, but they are perhaps naturally receptive to it or it could even be entirely a knowledge thing and that they are taught about it more; someone like verity who had her eyes opened to this realm, and learned to interact with it on instinct. does open questions to what the hell is up with the plains lmao but i think thats another post.

sorry about all the "i'll tell you in another post" i was attempting to stay on track 😂😂 also there's a 90% chance im gonna forget to come back and write about them so if anyone is dying to know feel free to send me an ask or something???

also if you want to know more about these OCs let me know 👀 i can find an ask game or something maybe. it's a case of i know a lot but will forget it all if asked to speak freely, i need specific questions. i have also developed the first four a bit more, but the last three are not without character so they can still be included. maybe it will be a group effort and they will have Background.

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loverhymeswith · 6 months

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Spellbound

Day Four of the October Dreams 1K Follower Event

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Witch!OFC

Summary: Polly’s meddling has unintended consequences for Tommy

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Smoking, drinking, language, set around season four but mostly spoiler free

A/N: Dedicated to @a-reader-and-a-writer ❤️

“There’s a woman here to see you, Tom.”

Tommy tears his gaze from the pile of paperwork strewn across the desk to find Lizzie hovering in the doorway. His secretary’s face is a careful mask of indifference as she leans against the wooden frame, but her apparent apathy is belied by the hint of jealousy in her voice.

There’s nothing for her to worry about, Tommy muses to himself, reaching for the half-empty carton of cigarettes resting on the far side of his desk. He doesn’t have any of those appointments booked this evening - or for the foreseeable future. These days, sex is the furthest thing from his mind.

Pushing the paperwork to the side with one hand and lighting his cigarette with the other, he inclines his head. “Send her in then, eh?” Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be so accommodating towards unexpected visitors, but heaven knows he could do with a distraction.

Lizzie nods brusquely and disappears from the doorway before he can ask her to fetch him another packet of cigarettes.

“He says you can go in,” he hears her mutter in a clipped tone.

Choosing not to acknowledge her possessiveness for the time being - that’s another problem for another day - Tommy reclines in his chair and takes a long drag of his cigarette. He exhales heavily and when the smoke clears, he casts his attention over the woman who has taken Lizzie’s place.

Her appearance is unexpected. Striking, even, to say the least. Dressed from head to toe in black, she’s at least a foot shorter than his secretary but just as slight. A headscarf conceals much of her hair, and she appears to be dressed in a riding cloak and long skirts, a far cry from the ever-changing ladies’ fashion he has grown accustomed to in recent years.

Tommy narrows his gaze, trying to place her. It’s unheard of for his mother’s kin to approach him like this; these days, all communication flows through Esmee or Johnny Dogs. A gut feeling tells him this woman is something else entirely.

Seeming to shrink under the weight of his stare, his visitor is the first to break the silence, taking a tentative step forward as she murmurs, “Mr Shelby?”

There’s a note of nervousness in her soft Birmingham accent, which comes as little surprise. Clearly, she knows exactly who she’s dealing with. What he’s capable of. And why wouldn’t she? After all, the Shelby reputation continues to precede him.

Tommy nods, exhaling another cloud of smoke in her direction. “And who might you be?”

“Your aunt Polly sent me,” she answers, choosing to omit her name as she glances around the dimly lit office. “I’m sorry for turning up unannounced but she said it was for the best.”

A familiar sense of irritation prickles within Tommy’s veins as he recalls the particularly contentious conversation he’d had with Polly not two nights ago. It would seem his aunt has finally made good on her threats.

“Come in and close the door,” he barks, stubbing out his cigarette with more force than necessary.

The woman does as he commands, crossing the room until only the large mahogany desk separates them. With the distance between them now halved, he’s taken aback by how young she is, how her skin is unblemished and her hair - thick and dark - threatens to escape from two untidy braids. Her pale blue eyes, currently filled with the hint of trepidation, are lined with kohl.

“So you’re the witch, eh?” He raises his brow, wishing he’d poured himself a whiskey before agreeing to see this woman.

The feeling only intensifies as her striking gaze lingers on him for a beat longer than is comfortable and her voice takes on a more confident edge.

“We don’t like to use that term these days, Mr Shelby.”

“No?” Tommy considers this, pulling out another cigarette from his dwindling supply and rolling it across his bottom lip. “What would you have me call you then?”

The woman’s shoulders lift slightly, apparently unfazed by his churlish response. “Some call us healers.”

“Healers?” he scoffs around the cigarette, the beginning of a headache starting to form. “You think I’m in need of fixing?”

“What I think is irrelevant, Mr Shelby. But Polly seems to think so.”

Polly. Damn that meddlesome woman. One day she’ll realise that some things - some people - are better left broken. And even if he could undo the events of the last five years, there is simply no coming back from what happened in France. There is no coming back from death.

“Polly doesn’t know anything. And you are wasting your time.” He waves his hand towards the door. He has absolutely no intention of entertaining Polly’s fantasies tonight - or ever. “No amount of magic or potions is going to change a bloody thing. So you can leave now.”

Despite his disparaging tone, the woman doesn’t baulk. “She already paid me twenty shillings to come here tonight.”

“Twenty shillings, eh?” He blinks back his surprise. “That’s quite a profit you must be turning. And you didn’t just take the money and run?”

She frowns at the implied insult, her pink lips pursing. “My grandmother taught me better than that. Besides, Polly is a friend of the family.”

“And who is your family?” he wonders aloud. “You’re not one of the Lees.” No, they assuredly would have taken the money and ran.

She shakes her head, her unwavering gaze still trained in his direction. “I’d prefer it if we kept my family out of it, Mr Shelby. As I said, I’m here at your aunt’s behest.”

Unaccustomed to being on the backfoot, Tommy is careful to hide his unease. This woman seems to know him - or his family, at least - but he has absolutely no idea where she has come from.

“Forgive my curiosity,” he mutters around the cigarette, not an ounce of contrition in his tone. “But I usually seek references when doing business. It’s good practice to know who you’re getting into bed with. Do you know Johnny Dogs?”

Her lips curl into a smile. “He offered me his hand in marriage once. My grandmother saw him off with a shotgun. Threatened to put a curse on him if he ever came back.”

“Smart woman, your grandmother.” Despite his misgivings, Tommy gestures for her to take a seat across from him, unable to deny his growing intrigue. He’d wanted a distraction, had he not? “Cigarette?”

She shakes her head, gracefully lowering herself into the spare armchair. “They’re bad for your health.”

“This is Birmingham, sweetheart. Everything is bad for your health. Including” - he points a finger in her direction - “witches.”

In lieu of a response, she smiles again and suddenly he finds himself wishing she’d remove that headscarf. Her face is still partially cast with shadows in the low light; he’d like to see all of her.

“So humour me.” He settles back in his seat and stubs out his second cigarette, both his headache and the desire for whiskey beginning to fade away. “What exactly has Polly paid you to do?” Tommy would be the first to admit that he has a complex relationship when it comes to his family’s faith in fortunes and curses.

“Besides the magic and potions, you mean?” she teases, her ring-clad fingers clasped in her lap.

Fighting the unexpected and somewhat disconcerting urge to smile back, Tommy nods. “Besides the magic and potions.”

“You’ll have to forgive me, Mr Shelby, but it’s bad for business to reveal all my secrets.”

There’s no trace of her initial apprehension as she continues to meet his eye. In fact, she seems to have relaxed in his presence. He can’t decide whether she’s brave or just naive.

“Tommy,” he tells her, taking both of them by surprise. “You can call me Tommy.”

She pauses for a moment, her blue gaze suddenly unreadable, before she replies, “Ok, Tommy.”

Another beat of silence passes between the two of them and there’s a noticeable change in the air as it fills with an electric charge - the portent of a gathering storm.

“You won’t tell me about your family, but it seems only fair I should get your name, eh?” Tommy remarks, offering her an expectant look. The truth is, he wants to keep her talking. Magic and potions be damned.

“Evelyn,” she murmurs, her answer taking him by surprise.

“I knew a girl named Evelyn once,” Tommy tells her, clearing his throat. Deep in the back of his mind, a memory is stirring. A truth, demanding to be revealed. “We called her Evie. Always had flowers in her hair. We played together as children on the banks of the canal. Me, her and Arthur.”

The woman, the witch - Evelyn - shifts in her seat. “What happened to her?”

“War happened,” he tells her, bluntly. “Never saw her again.”

That’s not to say he hadn’t thought about the girl often, although admittedly less so over the years. He’d made a point not to seek her out when he’d returned from France. It was safer to treasure her as a memory than trouble her with the demons that had followed him back to Small Heath.

“But you got to say goodbye.”

It’s less a question than a statement, but Tommy finds himself responding anyway, still grappling with that insistent feeling that he’s forgetting something. “I did.”

“You kissed her,” Evelyn continues solemnly. “At Digbeth Lock. After the summer fair.”

Thrown off balance entirely, Tommy stutters. “I- how did you know that?” He frowns, rubbing a hand across his jaw. Is he under the witch's spell right now?

Slowly, wordlessly, the witch begins to unwrap her headscarf. Tommy watches, spellbound, as her beautiful face finally comes into full view, a thin crown of crimson and ochre flowers resting atop her midnight hair. All of the air leaves his lungs in a single breath.

It can’t be.

“It’s you. It’s fucking you.” He shakes his head, eyes rapidly searching her face as he reconciles the woman before him with the memory of his childhood sweetheart. Evie. How could he have been so blind. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Evelyn clutches her discarded scarf tightly, her eyes now shining bright with unshed tears as she offers him a melancholy smile. “I was told the war had changed you, Tommy. Honestly, I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

Of course he remembered her. Evie. The girl with the flowers in her hair.

Abruptly, he rises to his feet, torn entirely between pouring himself a whiskey and gathering her into his arms.

The truth is, Tommy Shelby has always believed himself to be irrevocably broken. But maybe, just maybe, she could be the one to fix him.

#tommy shelby #cillian murphy #peaky blinders #tommy shelby fanfic #cillian murphy fic #October #follower celebration

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the-final-sif · 2 years

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Anyways, dsmp as a fandom is just homestuck but again.

Fandom is incredibly popular, yet also labeled as "cringe" and "problematic" by people trying to find moral superiority in not enjoying something.

Very small subsections (sometimes individuals, oftentimes younger) of the fandom doing problematic things are paraded around as examples of how morally impure any engagements with the source material is by those same groups of people in their attempts to justify their disdain.

Source material spans several different medias and is extremely difficulty to classify, with a lot of meta play.

the fourth wall is fucking dead, they took it outback and shot it.

Large amounts of fan/creator interaction that drove sections of the story, particularly early on.

"Lore droughts" are literally just the homestuck hiatuses. At least dsmp still gets some content creators active. Homestuck would just go dark for an entire year and that was normal.

Character designs are vague and leave a lot up to the viewer in terms of how they picture/show the characters and story.

Certain characters get completely demonized and liking them can lead to sections of the fandom feeling it's worth death threats over (Vriska & c!Dream fans are The Same).

Homestuck's wiki has 2 separate pages for characters "Canon" information and "Dubiously Canon" info. That tells you a lot.

Fandom discourse is considered The Worst.

Trying to explain the plot of either of them to a sane human being in anything but the broadest strokes is fucking impossible.

Good luck to anyone attempting to catch up after the media started. Most people skip ahead and just rely on fan information to fill in the gaps, a very dangerous game when it comes to characterization.

Despite everything, the fandoms have immense amounts of creativity, powerful and profound moments and characters pulled from their very silly mediums, and are able to do amazing things when they set their mind to it.

In conclusion, homestuck and dsmp as fandoms are the same thing over again. The only real difference is as far as I can tell, kin blogs have mostly gone out of fashion and that's a shame.

#homestuck #dsmp #dream smp #sif speaks #fandom culture #history doesn't repeat but it sure does like to rhyme #isn't that how the saying goes?

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 8 months

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The five kingdoms of the sons of Fëanor: part 1

Himring and the March of Maedhros

Warning. This post contains mentions of weapons use | animal death | orc death | use of animal parts | use of alcohol

✴️ Maedhros's lordship ushers in a culture that centers on highly trained warriors and military service. Himring and the March of Maedhros are soon dotted with heavily fortified fortresses made of rough-hewn stone.

✴️ The interiors of these buildings are decorated with animal pelt rugs and antlers, featherbeds that are mostly made out of softer animal furs, and furniture that is more practical than elegant. Maedhros's own fortress has a map carved onto the table in his council chamber.

✴️ There is no discrimination when it comes to military service. Any elf, irrespective of their gender, can take up arms if they have the necessary skills for wielding weapons. Those with exceptional skills are sometimes invited to learn under Meadhros himself.

✴️ Military training, while taking up the majority of most elves' time, is not the only activity in their day-to-day lives. Given the harshness of the terrain, there is very little farming. Foraging for root vegetables and wild berries is quite common, along with hunting and fishing. Mountain goats are eventually captured and domesticated for their meat and milk. Diary-based foods such as cream, berries, meat, and fish make up the majority of the diet for those who live in Himring and the March. Mares’ milk is fermented to make an alcoholic beverage that the elves drink in the absence of wine.

✴️ In the beginning, the fashions in and around Himring consisted of fur and leather decorated with beads and bones and feathers. Later on, when order fully set in, colors obtained from natural dyes found their way onto clothes worn by elves in the form of elaborate embroidery. This embroidery would take the form of the lands that Hithrim sits on, its animals, and the tales of valor of the elves who live within.

✴️ Of the smithies, there are only three, with the largest found in Maedhros' fortress; cutting down trees for reasons other than warmth and cooking and the making of spears, bows, and arrows is not seen as wise.

✴️ While there are riders who take messages between fortresses and outposts and homes, great signal fires are also used, in case orc movements are sighted.

✴️ What jewels are there in elven families are carefully kept, and lent out to kin only when needed. Because of this, elves turn to feathers, animal bones, and teeth for bodily adornments, especially the parts of an animal that are killed during an elf's first hunt.

✴️ A similar attitude is adopted towards weapons and armor made in Valinor. These are treated with great care, and elves routinely take metal arrowheads, swords, shields and anything else they can make use of from dead orcs.

✴️ Life in Himring and the March is quite restrictive due to the nearness of Angband and the constant attacks by its forces. Elves have to always be on guard. Because of this, feasts and frolics are few and far between and, if held, are kept to a modest scale. Storytelling is the highlight of the evening. Elflings who were born after the crossing into Middle Earth often ask for stories of Valinor.

#maedhros #maedhros imagine #himring #march of maedhros #the sons of fëanor #the sons of fëanor imagine #headcanon #my headcanon #the silm #the silmarillion #The silm imagine #💫a world of whimsy writes

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danvolodar · 16 days

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Pathologic and the Town's Russianness: 2

In part 2, let's explore the Town's social structure, compare it to what Russian Empire had before the Revolution, and see if the two are alike.

Two warnings have to be kept in mind when exploring this topic.

First, of course, the Kin are outside its scope, because they're a society quite apart from the real steppe nomads the Russian state had struggled against since before it became an Empire. So it'd be senseless to say "oh, but we can't really hear any Kin mentioned among the nobility in the Capital the way Apraksins, Arakcheevs, Yusupovs, or any number of other noble families were, thus the Capital is nothing like St.Petersburg!"

Second, when comparing the social structure shown in the game, we have to use the Imperial society as a yardstick, and not just because there's said to be an Emperor in the Capital, but because after the Empire fell, the Russian society changed quite radically, guided by purely ideological concepts, so the comparison would be meaningless from the start.

Now, that said, the society of Imperial Russia was explicitly a class-based one. There was some class mobility, and in the timeframe the game is set in the whole structure was under pressure of the new economic realities (as shown in quite a number of classical pieces, starting with, say, Checkhov's Cherry Orchard), but still, it was rigid enough.

And the Town's ruling families fit into said structure well enough.

The Kains could well be Russian nobility of the high noble stock. That works well with what the game tells us of the "blood of heroes" flowing in their veins; and it explains the source of their wealth, too.

Similarly, the Saburovs fit the mold quite well, as a nobility-for-service family. Alexander in particular is a match, with his inflexible values in his P2 depiction.

Now, the Empire had formally codified forms of address for high nobility and top-ranked officials (think "your Highness" or "your Excellency"), and our marry gang of healers, despite all being commoners, do not follow these, but it's nothing but a nitpick, since doing otherwise could've made the likeness of the Empire all too close.

The Olgimskys are a bit more of a mixed bag. They're clearly rich merchants, but they don't exactly fit the stereotypical depiction to a T, starting with Big Vlad's clean-shaven visage (compare him to the Morozovs or the Ryabushinskys, for instance). Beard fashions differed between classes, and with the number of Old Believers among the merchants (who considered shaving blasphemous), full beards were ever in style among that class - even Peter I's laws that leavied taxes on beards did little to change that. But then again, Olgimskys have a Western Slav surname, who's to tell, perhaps they come from Polish or Jewish stock, like the historical Poliyakovs.

A much more significant difference would be their apparent irreligiousity. The way religion in Pathologic 2 differs from what happened in the Russian Empire deserves its own post, I think, so I'll just note that the Olgimskys as merchants not using their religion (whatever it might be: Old Believer or mainstream Orthodox Christianity, Judaism or even Catholicism) at least as an ostentatious outlet for charity differentiates the game's setting from the Empire; same as, of course, the lack of priesthood class in its entirety.

There are other classes missing, naturally, but the reasons for that, I believe, have more to do with establishing the game's themes, as discussed in the intro part of my blog post series. Peasants cannot be shown, because fields, gardens and orchards stretching for kilometers around the Town-on-Gorkhon would undermine the theme of contraposition between the Town and the Steppe, removing the latter physically well out ofsight. Similarly, cossacks, ever present during the Empire's forays into the Eurasian steppes, cannot be present in the game: they did agriculture just as much as peasants; their presence as an organized fighting force in the Town would undermine the othering of the Army; and their styles would be too distinctive to maintain plausible difference from the historical Russian Empire.

The one class that's left to discuss are the commoners: the townsfolk and the factory workers. And they look and feel passably close to the commoners in the Empire, to a surprising degree; except, perhaps, for the shortage of facial hair and headwear. Perhaps they're even a bit too well-off for the underclass in the times when its exploitation was at its worst. Then again, the game design documents state they're meant to be "depersonalized in the utmost, a many-headed hivemind. Not a collection of individuals but a mass, devoid of color and personality. Soulless". Which is an impression of the common man normal enough for the Russian intelligentsia throughout time, yet one that I personally deeply despise, due to being a morlock myself (see also Lev Gumilev with his "what kind of intelligenstia am I when I have a profession").

So, to sum this part up: the social structure of the Town is passably Russian, the most significant difference being the lack of priesthood. The lack of the more distinctive classes, the ones that most differentiated Russia in the early XX century from the other European states of the time, can mostly be explained away by the game needing to maintain is themes and creative vision in the areas well outside of sociology.

#pathologic #мор утопия

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etherealkins · 2 months

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hello, welcome to heaven! are you there? i'm mod crowley (any prns) and this is mod aziraphale (he/they/she >w<). this blog is dedicated to helping fictionkins, otherkins, therians, systems, and anybody else who would like an edit. all questions are welcomed.

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anything else (perm open)

questions, rambles, vents. anything you're comfortable sending into our inbox. we only ask for no nsfw or borderline suicidal/harmful content, thank you.

you'd like to know our boundaries? further information? well, here you are.

we do not want to interact with, factkins "dead dove" content nsfw/18+ material zionists here are some things that are helpful to know, we always use kin tags, if you'd like different tags, please let us know! ask us to tag if certain things are needed to be tagged we do not have a solid blacklist requests will be denied if felt unfit or if we are uncomfortable requests will be split between the two mods

anon tags? to-do list? don't worry, here they are.

anon tags | to-do list

inspired by: @bearskinthings + @motoroil-recs

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screemnch · 1 year

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The Pathologic Russian and English analysis: Bachelor Daniil Dankovsky

So uhhh.... Turns out my priorities aren't as messed up as I thought, which is why it took me a whole month just to finish this thing. Let's cover some basics shall we? The approximate structure will, depending on the length of this analysis, go as follows: I’m gonna tackle Patho Classic and the three healers from each other’s perspective, look at shared dialogue options and then talk about all the other important NPCs and how they interact with the playable characters. Since Patho 2 only has the Haruspex run, we’re gonna move through that a lot faster in a similar fashion, and then we’ll look over Marble Nest.

What I’m going to be focusing on: there’s a huge amount of dialogue between all the characters in the story, and I couldn’t possibly note down all the differences at once. I will mainly be trying to relay the “voice” of the character that is present in the original Russian version and noting the biggest differences. If there are also pieces of dialogue that shine a different light on a few story aspects, I will point these out too. Mainly I will talk about how the characters in these interactions seem to treat each other (which will be difficult, since opinions of characters change frequently in this game), note interesting mannerisms and sometimes quote the fun differences and try and fail to explain why the use of this specific idiom is funny in this context. Sooooo yeah.

The Bachelor

The Bachelor in the other characters’ campaigns is, as we all know, a drastically different character. Before I dive nose deep, I’m gonna establish what kind of impression we have of our English Bachelor, so we can compare and contrast things easily.

Daniil in the English version is, as we all know, a prickly prick. He speaks in a usually rather conceited manner, gets irritated with people easily and likes to throw in latin phrases at random points. He sees himself as smarter than everyone else which then in turn leads to him being manipulated by most people that he meets. He’s having a no good, very bad week and he will let people know about it. In the Haruspex campaign the “asshole” part of his character seems to be a bit diminished, and when watching him interact with Artemy, I almost saw something similar to… Respect? He even appeals to Artemy’s knowledge of the kin, as opposed to his own Capital beliefs, when asking him to save the Polyhedron. In the Changeling campaign the Bachelor’s prickly prick factor is ramped up to a hundred. He’s arrogant, talks down to Clara while also being heavily dependent on her and does his best to seem unaffected by all the shit hitting the fan.

Overall, he does give off an impression of a capital dandy that’s in way over his head in both campaigns, and has a very distinct voice and mannerisms. Partially I’d attribute that to the fact that the speech quirk of “randomly starts speaking latin like a pretentious asshole” was a rather easy thing to translate. So, what do we get when we meet the Bachelor in Russian?

As the Haruspex: Before I even discuss the tone, I want to set a little groundwork - although it might be something people already know if they're that deep into learning about an obscure Russian game. And that is - the use of “you” in the Russian language. Similar to German, we have two versions: formal and informal.

The formal version - “вы” (vy - phonetics are difficult) - is used in Russian when referring to strangers, figures of authority, people older than you, people whom you respect, as well as a group of people.

The informal version - “ты” (ty - once again, phonetics are stupid) - is used when speaking to a friend, someone younger than you (like a child), someone you have no respect for, or someone you’re familiar with. Also family, even if they’re older. This being said, for 90% of the time in the Haruspex campaign, the Bachelor uses the informal “you” when speaking to Artemy. More on that as we get into the nitty gritty.

Dankovsky’s tone throughout this campaign is separated into 2 groups - before and after you receive a letter with his list of Bound, where he decides to dedicate himself to the Kain's cause and to saving the Polyhedron. I’m not sure if that is clearly visible in the English version - reading them side by side has blurred a lot of things for me, but it’s quite apparent in the Russian version.

In terms of consistent mannerisms, there is one detail that I think doesn’t shine as well in English as it does in Russian. You’d think that our bachelor of medicine would speak in a very formal tone, using big boy words and scientific terms only. You would be wrong.

The Bachelor speaks in very “deliberate” sentences. It’s like he is trying to get all the possible clarifications out of the way, before getting to the point of the sentence. That doesn’t make him sound formal or anything. He uses diminutives and “rough” words every now and then, and doesn’t overcomplicate his sentences too much.When I say rough words, I don’t mean cussing, per se. In fact, other than the equivalent of “damn” (which literally translates into something like “imp”) Daniil doesn’t swear at all. Even when he calls the Haruspex a bastard in English, in Russian it’s a lot softer and more akin to “scoundrel.” Rough words, I guess, would be more like… “Lower-class” slang terms. I say lower-class because for a long time many words in Russia were considered to be unacceptable, since they were, or at least were reminiscent of, prison talk. The closest example I can think of in English is the way one person might say “making love” and another one might say “screwing.” Except in Russian, there are “rough” words for eating, going somewhere, etc. And the Bachelor, even though you’d expect him to be a high-strung formal ass, is very liberal with those words. This goes into contrast with what we get in the English version, where he seems to mostly use very formal language, except for a few moments of frustration.

In the first half of the Haruspex campaign, Daniil speaks in an overall warmer tone, starting out with what seems to be boundless enthusiasm. It’s only slightly mitigated by the frustration towards the townspeople. In English he sounds like he’s only frustrated, but in Russian it sounds like he’s frustrated because of how much he wants to help. He expresses a lot of his frustration by riddling his speech with tiny connector words, as if rushing the other person to respond. It’s like if there were a bunch of different alternatives to the word “then,” and you’d see him being like “Well tell me then, what, then, is this thing?” This creates an appearance of impatience, desperation, and helplessness. Which is what I imagine the player would feel at that time in the Bachelor run. Anyways, now onto the fun little details.

Everyone’s beloved “far be it from me to call myself a person of mystical inclinations...” line is, for the most part, pretty accurate. The biggest difference, from what I found, is in the first sentence itself. In Russian, it’s simply “Yes… Mystical feelings/sensations are alien/foreign to me.” Everything else is pretty much the same. Though, tone wise, the sheer presence of an informal “you” makes it a lot more personal. Instead of someone talking about an odd, otherworldly and foreboding feeling, the tone is more of a person bitterly commenting on an unfortunate and cruel burden that they realise they share with another person.

Day 2 and it’s main quest have a fun little detail that I will talk about later when we discuss formalities a little more, but for now I will simply note that throughout all of Day 2, the Bachelor speaks to Burakh using the formal version of “you” (and being addressed informally right back). But also, in one of the dialogues that happens during that quest Artemy says “I’m beginning to like you, oynon” the Russian version instead has “I’m liking you more and more, oynon” which is a fun detail that I think some people may appreciate.After examining the samples, you can ask the Bachelor what he is working on now. In his reply he says he’s looking for the sources of the outbreak and needs hard evidence. In the Russian text, he specifically says he needs evidence of himself being right. In the rest of his dialogues he seems rather open-minded to unorthodox practices, as much as he sneers at them, but in this particular case he seems focused specifically on being correct, rather than right. Not too empirical of him, smh.

I found this difference absolutely hilarious. I imagine the main reason that this line was translated the way it was is because they wanted to maintain the tone of suspicion coming from the Bachelor. In a more literal translation (and keep in mind, this all has a bunch of little words strewn in to pad out the sentences) Dankovsky says something more like “And what sort of specimen is that?” except it’s not “specimen” it’s “subject” which in Russian can point to a person, and it’s very difficult to convey the absolute snark that comes with this question. Imagine a suburban mother in a polka dot apron and red glasses, as she stares down a dead bird that her child has brought in from the backyard. There’s suspicion, a hint of disgust, and a demand to know why this is being brought to their attention. That being said, I don’t know if there was a better way to translate this. Maybe “Who the hell is that?” is the best way to convey this. I just wanted to point out how starkly different it is in Russian.

Interesting difference here: in the English version the Bachelor says “Your father was a natural.” Here, the specific word used usually refers to a gemstone, something extremely valuable. A literal translation of the word would be “self-born.”

Additionally, Dankovsky seems to speak very fondly of Rubin throughout the campaign. Like, it’s something that’s present in the English version, I guess, but in Russian it genuinely seems that the two share a strong bond. There is a lot more warmth when talking about his expertise, and a lot more concern and sadness, when it's implied that he might be in danger.

Two things about this. 1: The whole “half-dead” thing is absolutely hilarious in Russian. Essentially the word that he uses can be loosely likened to smth like “half-corpselings” with the use of diminutives, as if the bacteria were a bunch of tiny little guys that were about to die. More to my argument that the Bachelor doesn’t sound professional, just very deliberate. Secondly, the whole “Oh yes, I would very much like to have a serious talk with Rubin” makes it sound like he’s an angry parent whose kid is absolutely in trouble. In Russian, he sounds like he’s talking about meeting up with a college buddy, or as if the desire to ask for someone else’s assistance is a sudden urge. That comes specifically from the word he uses - охота (okhóta). The primary meaning of this word is “a hunt.” But it can also mean a desire, or want to do something, often paired with the fact that it’s something that you can’t or won’t do at the moment.

Fucking this. I was so flabbergasted by this line when I came across it, because the entire Haruspex campaign these two get along really well. And then this happens, and it suddenly sounds like the Bachelor is spitefully making fun of Burakh for not finding something that they both believe is impossible to find. Like, it was so mean and petty and out of the blue, it immediately paints an image of someone who lashes out the moment they have to admit defeat - which is not something the Bachelor has been doing so far. In the original Russian dialogue? “Yes, after everything you were unable to find this creature.” Or something to that effect. I’m translating the vibes here to my best ability. Oddly enough, this is one of the instances in which the Bachelor uses the informal version of “you” again. It’s not mockery. This is Daniil drawing the line of all that he could accomplish, but also all the things he tried to help realise, all the people he supported, before he is executed (at least he thinks he will be). He mentions being unable to look in the eye of everyone he failed earlier in the conversation, referring to his colleagues at Thanatica, but at the same time - at this point he’s already insisted that he wants himself and Burakh to collaborate and sees their separate goals as one. Artemy’s unfortunate conclusion is one he feels partially responsible for. The meaning and vibe of the sentence goddamn changes near everything about this interaction! It goes from spiteful gloating of a cornered, near dead man, trying to find solace in another person’s failings, to instead something more akin to… Regret? Pity? Empathy? That’s it, Marble Nest, I’m coming for your “oooh, Bachelor Dankovsky has no heart” bullshit.

That being said, after the Inquisitor’s appearance, the tone that Daniil takes on shifts drastically. I wasn’t able to find or remember when he sends his letter about the Bound, but I’m pretty sure it all happens around the same time. And the main idea of that is - the Bachelor has his own agenda now. He’s found out about what happened to Thanatica and is now dead set on preserving the only other miracle he knows of - the Polyhedron. And, maybe I’m getting a little to interpret-y here, but seeing as the Haruspex can help lead to that goal of his, the Bachelor then starts giving Burakh the same treatment that the Kains have been giving him.

His tone becomes a lot more familiar, a lot more personal. He constantly brings up the things that he’s done for Artemy and the looming threat of the town getting shelled. Oh, and I’m pretty sure around that time he also starts calling him by his first name. He does his best to act like he really cares about what the “udurgh” can be, while pushing his own idea, and condemning Aglaya for doing the same. He also doesn’t use those little exasperated and rushed filler words in his speech, despite the situation being arguably a lot worse. I remember seeing some of that even in the English version, but I don’t know if it’s the fact that I got to see all the dialogue, or that some Russian words just hit different, but it’s a lot more apparent when looking at it now.

Now here’s a moment where I’m a bit lost as to what translation I prefer. I want all these characters to get along in a universe where they’re nice and kind to each other, but that’s simply not Pathologic. Besides, if I’m sticking to my interpretation, I should really be telling y’all that the Russian version is more effective. Because in Russian, dude literally says “I’m sorry if you thought I was condescending” or something to that extent that would imply that him being an ass is simply Burakh’s own misinterpretation. But hey, this is also the conversation in which he decided to “play unfair” and pressure Artemy into speaking to the Foreman in his stead, so it’s not like this changes much. Maybe being manipulated for what, a whole week now, has finally gotten to him, or he’s just gotten familiar enough to use such tactics - interpret it how you will.

More fun differences - when asking the Bachelor about how to get into the Polyhedron, he will mention Maria and Khan getting into a spat and not being on good terms. In Russian, he refers to her as “my Maria” which he hasn’t done before or since (at least between these two).

That’s all I’ve got about the campaign as it is, but I’ve also promised a little tangent about formality and so here it is. Throughout the entire campaign, there are only a few instances in which the Bachelor addresses the Haruspex using the formal version of “you.” Those instances are: 1 - when asking him about his inheritance. 2 - when talking about chimaeras and how they don’t exist before heading off to face the Inquisitor. And 3 - when you’re speaking to him late at night. Instances in which he’s either asking you to leave him alone, or offering to use his own bed to rest in. My theory is that the Bachelor - as far as I’ve read in his interactions with Burakh - switches to a formal tone (with people who he’d usually speak to informally) if he is uncomfortable. Consider: he uses the formal version of “you” when speaking to Artemy about his inheritance - because that’s a really awkward topic. He needs to get crucial information from Isidor’s notes asap, but the person he has to speak to about them is the man’s grieving son, who’s still being blamed for his death. Awkward as hell. Next instance? He thinks he’s about to be offed by the inquisitor and is (at least in my interpretation) expressing a degree of guilt for the failures of someone who’s at the very least an acquaintance at this point. Very uncomfortable, especially for someone with an ego as big as the Bitchelor’s. And lastly - late at night, tired out of his mind, having to either turn away a guest, or offer them his own bed. Both awkward and uncomfortable things to do, for a city boy. Now, this is, of course just from what I can see of Daniil in the Haruspex route, my conclusions might change drastically when I get through the other interactions, but it's still a fun difference.

And I would say that about wraps it up for the Bachelor in the Haruspex run. The biggest differences have been mainly the fact that he is a lot less formal than his English counterpart, the interesting insights that come with addressing your fellow doctor formally, and the very precise moment where Daniil’s kind and determined attitude turns to that of a manipulative snake.

On a quick tangent here about that, actually - in both the English and Russian version, you can very much engage in a way that allows Burakh to catch on to the Bitchelor’s tricks, and even start lying back to him, when you’re trying to gain access to the Polyhedron. But there is a certain bitterness present in these interactions that I’m not sure is well conveyed. Maybe it’s in the way Artemy himself speaks like an old soul, a fairytale wiseman, that makes these interactions that much more saddening. It’s especially visible in the dialogue where he tells Dankovsky that they’re dolls - it’s sad in the English version, but god if it isn’t absolutely tragic in Russian. And weirdly enough, I feel like a little bit more of that could have been conveyed if people opted for the clunkier but more literal translation? Like what I imagine the old translation was, that everyone complained so much about. Like, if the line “They don’t love us, but they way.” was instead. “We aren’t loved, by the way.” I think it’s a bit more personal, a bit more sad, and doesn’t have the “they” in it, which I feel makes it a little more… Potent. In fact, for most of that dialogue, the “they” is omitted in Russian, because grammar and all, except for the moments where Burakh explicitly mentions the children. And I like that more, I think. It’s not about what the powers that be are doing in the sandbox. It’s about how their dolls feel. How they’ve been stuck into this situation and how they aren’t loved. Even the line of “I hope my side wins” is different, instead it’s more like “I hope I’m won with” as if these characters were a means to an end and they are!! They are a means to an end! They’re dolls!! It’s a lot. This is already long enough and I have the Changeling to deal with. However, as this turned out to be a lot longer than anticipated, I will have to give that it's own post as well. Feedback, question or recommendations on how to format this better are always appreciated)

#pathologic #pathologic classic hd #мор утопия #ramblings #daniil dankovsky #artemy burakh #the document in which i wrote this is already 11 pages long

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krisiverse · 11 months

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ok, so since i'm a huge language nerd i decided to translate all the ancient hyrulean tablets in totk best i can from middle english into modern english! for anyone interested they are under the cut :)

Account of a Celebration

So sweet the song of King Rauru, and so great the beauty of his sister's dance, that were my eyes and ears captive.

And so gracious Queen Sonia's gaze on us all, so felt I my heart as captive fallen.

Servant's life, though much laboursome, has much jollity as well. Long be the life of the royal family that I love so.

The Strong Queen and the Receptive King

Sonia, queen to Hyrule's king, was born a Hylian priestess, herself born of land, not of sky above.

Spoke she with open heart, earnest to all, even to the Zonai's king.

This king thought it a good advantage to learn of the land's folk. To see his head bent to listen is such pleasantness.

The Harmonious Couple

Oft wise Rauru, king of keen blade, waives his real work in favor of the hunt.

And oft clever Sonia, queen of keen insight, seeks him out and repairs this king to kingly business.

In her sapience seems she divine, that she ever can find him, and for his folly seems he the more human.

And the king? Oh, he laughs. Not him her equal for her wit, he knows. And the queen, she laughs too, even as she scolds.

A Pilgrimage of Light

The king was late in coming this evening, so made the queen to share tales of her land, of shrines all green glowing.

Of early days since Hyrule's founding have diverse monsters her realm besieged and assailed.

Unceasing in strife, they brought to despair folks' lives. King and queen set themselves to bring the scourge to an end.

With might of light and power, they were driven back, and the royal couple made these shrines to seal them away.

These holy seals were called Shrines of Light.

Great king, great queen, I thank you. You fought when I was a maiden-child, that I could come to know.

The Researcher Mineru

Clever Mineru, the king's elder sister, falls so deep in her books such that she oft forgets to eat.

In my worried way I've done what much I can, but so far it has been to little avail.

Of late speaks she of "constructs," things she did make with her hands as a vessel for spirit when body fails.

So, said she, might she live long, in spirit housed within this "construct."

Though Mineru seems not to hold any deceit… By my faith, I cannot believe these words as truth.

The Foreign Princess

Full fine is the weather this morn, and have I audience with this princess said to be kin by far distant years to queen Sonia.

By grace has she been given a name most sweet, of Zelda she is called.

In certain folk stirred suspicion, for strange were her garments and sudden were her appearance.

Yet would her countenance and bearing make proof of her right blood and bond to queen Sonia.

As Zelda is to remain for a while with us, I will extend an offer of myself as housemaid in her service.

The Free-Spirited Zelda

Princess Zelda recently comes to see Mineru, the king's elder sister. I come too, to serve her.

Today it came to pass that Mineru showed to Zelda the greatest construct I have seen.

Zelda, she much desired to ride on it, and nothing I could say could stop her. Though I did protest. Loudly.

Nevertheless she made to sit high upon the construct's shoulders and to ride it like a horse, all full of grace.

My admiration, so great already, did grow all the more.

The Latest Trend

Fashion now favors garments adorned with mushroom patterns, and far and wide are they worn.

This taste for mushrooms comes of the castle's seamstress, who sought to sew clothes to please princess Zelda.

This fashion, Zelda told the seamstress, was in her true home well-loved.

In her time everyone wore patterns of bright hues, in the shape of mushrooms.

Now our handy seamstress set her heart on copying these patterns, which sell to many happy people.

I searched after some for my own, but none could I find.

An Ancient Ghost Story

Of late have I heard it told a strange lady walks around the castle in the dark of night.

She and princess Zelda seem as twins, but this one has not the light in her eyes- more as a dead thing than not.

When she is asked about these walks, princess Zelda does of that remember nothing.

What monster, or spirit of darkness, is this vision? So afraid I am of my imaginings that I cannot sleep.

For the Hero's Sake

Since her founding has Hyrule seen such hardship, but that is only a small moment of time.

Mineru, the king's elder sister, says of this kingdom that it must not be caught unaware, not even in the far future.

Princess Zelda tells her that this future is wrought already, that a champion does from the sky come.

Between the two, they made to find a way to help this champion in that distant time.

Hear my vow, sought they to raise up the Temple of Time, into the sky to ward it against evil.

All done so in far distant day, our kingdom might be saved.

In my heart I know I must help, and I asked of Mineru, can you devise the means to raise up in the sky these stones.

My words are not enough, but they save these memories, of the royal family, high in the sky for that future time.

The Day the Land Rose

Such a wondrous sight I have beheld that it cannot justly be described.

The Temple of Time I saw, and all land holding it, risen to the sky, both fearful and majestic.

As princess Zelda told me, in far distant future comes a champion to that place, the hope that saves Hyrule.

For that champion is it that I inscribe these great stones.

The king's elder sister, Mineru, sends now these stones to the sky, that the champion might read them.

A Parting Resolve

Rauru, Hyrule's king. Sonia, her queen. His elder sister, Mineru. And too Princess Zelda.

All whom I served, and loved. All whom are gone. Alone carve I these words upon this stone.

This stone, and all thirteen, serve as the royal family's record, my final work, full-wrought for all time.

Many the mark made by these much-beloved people - some seen, some unseen.

When I make remembrance of her marks, feel I a flame of hope, though small, within me.

It is as though these marks describe some grand design.

I cannot match princess Zelda in her love for her land. What more then, ask I, can I do for Hyrule's people.

Let my life lead me henceforth for a worthy answer to this question.

#totk #totk spoilers #tears of the kingdom #tears of the kingdom spoilers #loz #the legend of zelda

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yourbustedkneecaps · 6 months

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i’m suddenly having shiro brainrot which is a little weird since i started as a keith kin let’s be real and i have like a gazillion headcanons for this man that make So Much Sense in my head but mean Legitimately Nothing in the grand scheme of things

i’m expecting this to quickly become a ramble

Shiro (as part of Gen Alpha) knows what vine & tiktok are. he’s not exactly proud of his knowledge of social media but he definitely understands memes and internet lingo

this bitch was 100% self-labeled emo at one point. he was cringey even considering he never went all out in the fashion department. this quickly spiraled into him settling into being a little more goth/punk

he listens to the oldies. as in the classics like queen, the beatles, bon jovi, etc. he also listens to/likes more “emo music” than keith does

he also vehemently rejects his time as a classical musician (he was barely seven and he still doesn’t fully understand how reading music works)

contrary to popular belief, he can cook and bake. he’s just not very good to anything other than simple dishes like noodles/pasta, soups/stews, burgers/hotdogs, etc

he cooks like a dad, basically. no big flair, just aggressively mid home cooking

he grew up living with his step-grandparents instead of his dad & mom (long fucjing story)

he loves pastries especially muffins :)

he sucks at biking— like legitimate bicycling, however he can roller skate a bit

there’s probably definitely maybe going to be more i just don’t know if i’ll post it

unless someone’s interested before the Pure Strand of Brainrot sets in i guess lol

#hcs #shiro voltron #headcanons #shiro headcanons #voltron legendary defender #voltron #takashi shirogane

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evolutionsvoid · 8 months

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The people fear the dragons, for they are large, powerful and have a knack for burning entire villages down. How could anyone gaze upon such an incredible, deadly beast and not feel terror grip their heart? Even those who never laid eyes on one have a healthy fear of them, as the many stories and legends inform them of their lethal prowess. Teeth like daggers, claws like swords, wings that could blot out the sun and a horrid breath that can reduce the strongest of fortresses to slag and ash. It is no surprise that these monsters have been immortalized in art, story and folklore. But one must be wary of such thoughts and obsessions, as we tend to focus on the big and blunt, while ignoring the small insidious things that lurk in the background. Dragons are vast and many, their species seemingly without end, yet most only see and hear of the great ones. Those that strike fear in our hearts yet dazzle our minds when we see their magnificent size and prowess. Some believe beauty can only come from bright colors and that danger is only found in the beasts far bigger than us. After all, what could be worse then a winged, fire-breathing monster bigger than a house? It turns out, lots of things....

There continues to be debate on if these creatures are real dragons or not, perhaps some horribly twisted kin that were malformed by magic. Or perhaps a vile species looking to capitalize on a widely feared and infamous look. Regardless, they are wicked beasts that fly upon a foul wind, striking from the shadows and taking those who walk alone. When not on the hunt, they dwell in dark abandoned places, like damp caves, forgotten towers and dilapidated buildings. They wait for the sun to set and for night to cloak their efforts. When darkness covers the land, they take to the wing and hunt. They taste the air for the traces of their preferred prey: Man. When the scent is found, they dive down and strike with blinding speed. Their spiked tail shoots forth, seeking to inject their targets with a powerful neurotoxin, which paralyzes the muscles and leaves prey helpless. They will dodge the desperate thrashing and flailing of their victims, constantly harassing them until they can get a single stab into their flesh. When their prey is downed, they will grab onto their bodies and clamber onto their backs. The spine is what they want, and the underside of their bodies split like jaws lined with eager teeth to latch on. Bony spikes drive into the flesh, anchoring them to their host, while their small head wriggles towards the base of the skull. Tooth and suction will let them clamp down, and their horrible tongue will burrow in to violate the brain. When their hold is complete, they secrete a digestive compound that breaks down both the host's flesh and their own bony hide. It won't be long til the slurry mixes together and congeals, effectively fusing the two creatures together. The wretched wyrm does not want to be separated from its tortured host, especially since there is so much to do.

With the creature latched on and fused, it hijacks the body of its victim and drives them to the nearest hiding place. They prefer shelter similar to their roosting lairs, but will settle on any forgotten corner to find peace. When their prey is taken far from prying eyes and angry mobs, they begin to inject a transformative fluid into their veins and skull. Within this liquid lies their own essence, and it begins to infect their flesh and bones. Over the course of days, the victim can only watch in silent horror as their body contorts and their skin hardens into monstrous growths. Hardened plates of petrified skin, horribly claws of jutting bone and twisted horns fashioned from fused hair. With each passing day, they begin to look less like human, and more like some terrible hybrid between mammal and armored lizard. Some people call them "lizardmen" or "dragonfolk," for their dry scaly skin, patchy plates and spiny look, but what they really are are humans wrenched into some unnatural shape by the parasite that grows further into their flesh. Some people think them more like ghastly gargoyles, horrible mockeries of both dragon and man, twisting their elegant features and brilliant minds into some misshapen gurgling wretch. When the transformation is far enough for their limbs to resume function, the new found monstrosity will be gripped by a terrible hunger. All those growths and changes used up a lot of energy, so they need to replenish. Plus, they will need all the nutrients they can get for what comes next...

Stumbling from their hiding place, these warped dragon men tear after prey with reckless abandon, thrown into an wild frenzy when they smell meat. They chase after prey with unnatural speed, snarling and hissing like ravenous beasts. Though their wings are far too small for real flight, they aid in great jumps, combining with their powerful legs to launch themselves at victims. When they are upon their food, they will look to jab them with the same venomous tail that doomed them with this fate. Wicked claws and powerful jaws rip frozen prey to shreds, and they gobble down every morsel as if it was the last. When the final scrap is devoured, they are on to the next, gorging themselves in this bloody feeding frenzy. They will hunt all night long, until their bellies are bloated and their bodies soaked in blood and flecks of meat. Or until some merciful soul cuts them down and frees them from this nightmare. Such a task, however, is not easy, as the raging beast views all creatures as food, and can easily rip armored knights in half in their madness. Some survivors of these fights even claim that these dragon men monstrosities have their own burning "breath," as they vomit a geyser of boiling bile during the struggle. If they are not slain and their bellies are filled, they limp back to their hiding place and begin to grow their kin.

Within their bodies, the eggs of the wyrm will begin to form and multiply, fed by the night's feast of blood and flesh. They develop within the bowels, shaped into wet tumors the size of walnuts. The intestines will soon be packed to bursting with these unborn parasites, growing as many as possible to ensure their horrid lineage survives. In a final violation of the host's dignity and tortured flesh, the whole mass is violently excreted from the anus, sprayed upon the ground and walls in a clumpy crimson shower. Depending on the strength and health of the monstrosity, this act may kill them and their bodies become food for the soon to be newborns. For those that survive, they will be forced back out into the night again to feed and reproduce, ensuring the land is never free from their terrible presence.

They are blight upon the land and its people, one many vow to destroy. Knights and legendary warriors go out to slay these abominations and burn their eggs to ash, yet these stories are never told. The painters do not shape their colors into these wyrms and their doomed hosts. The bards do not regal crowds with the terror inducing transformation and ghastly abilities. Art is not always about beauty, and folklore does not shy away from the grim, but perhaps there are subjects too wretched and foul to hang upon your wall and share with the local tavern....

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"Parasitic Wyrm"

Goodness, I wanted to post so many more dragon things for Smaugust, but busy schedule and god awful heat really drained me! But no worries, as they will still show up in short time! Just won't be thematic!

For this fella, I was really pondering on if to include this in the Wrong Table world or perhaps another, but never settled on a decision. So for now it dwells in the ether. Eventually I will come to a real decision!

And jeepers creepers! Where did I ever come up with this design? (Har har)

#dragon #monster #creature #parasite #art #drawing #parasite dragon #body horror

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mightymizora · 26 days

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WIP Wednesday

tagged by the fabulous @anderstrevelyan and sneaking in here!

Tagging @smoreofbabylon @plethomacademia @lamortwrites @gale-sized-hole and anybody else who is still able to sneak in!

Her afternoon appointment is in the richest streets of the Upper City, in the second-highest mansion in the best street. The stone is the highest quality white, and is blinding in the heavy summer sun.

“Your Grace, I am afraid,” Afua tells her, shaking in her fine velvet dress. Manva smooths out her servant’s doublet and smiles tightly at her.

“You have nothing to be afraid of,” she tells her. “You come from this world. All you have to do is be yourself.”

“Wisteria was at my mother’s side when I was born,” she says solemnly. “I have known her all of my life.”

“Then she will receive you as her kin, Slaying Hand.” She tries to bite off the edge of her annoyance, and smiles at her as softly as she can manage. “You are who you have always been, and so is she. And yet now, you are also more. You are His, and he will guide you if you let him.”

The silly girl smiles down at her. “You always know what to say, Primistress.”

“Please. Up here, you are Mistress, and I am but your humble servant. They will be expecting you. Do not make them wait.”

The Dowager Estate is not the grandest of the Jannath’s many holdings in the city, but it is, to her eye at least, the finest, with a beautiful view across the best streets of the Manorborn, with a pleasant vantage over the temple district, though perhaps that was not the fashion for these kind of people. They are greeted as expected, the butler taking them straight through the well-appointed hall with its winding stairs into a small withdrawing room, neatly set out for tea, and there on the couch in a fine silk gown is the lady of the house.

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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 months

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Memorabilia & First Kiss - Fingolfin x Anairë

Dear anon, here goes your story! :D

I am afraid that it might have turned out a little sadder than I've anticipated! Tomorrow, I'll be gone the whole day, so I'll post it now. I hope that's okay by you!

Lots of love!

Words: 1 020

Characters: Anairë x Fingolfin

Warnings: Sadness, canon-compliant deaths referenced, Fëanor mentioned, Russingon if you want to read it like that, marital estrangement

Ñolofinwë had never thought of himself as a vain creature, and thus the idea that people might find his collection of memorabilia odd had never even crossed his mind.

While most of the other revenants from that Eru-forsaken world in which he’d been cruelly slain seemed desperate to leave the past behind, he could not help but dwell on all the things he’d lost and still missed.

Soon, it had become common knowledge that the former High King of the Ñoldor collected mementoes—broken weapons, torn banners, and a lot of dented metal—to stare at them sadly.

Unbeknownst to him, other people did worry about his ever-growing hoard of absurd and grotesque trinkets, and when he disappeared into his secret vault once again, his oldest son finally decided to speak up.

“Mother,” Findekáno whispered, clasping Anairë’s slender hands in his own pleadingly. “You must stop him! This isn’t healthy…”

With a long, low sigh, she squeezed the strong fingers that had shed so much blood in the name of a lost cause; she too remembered the pudgy flesh she had, once upon a time, cradled lovingly through many a mingling, and her heart broke at the recollection of what was never to be again.

“Oh son,” she whispered. “You cannot fathom how heavily the past weighs on your father—on us.”

“Do you think that I have not loved and lost people? Even as I kneel at your feet like a child, my soul is burdened with the absence of those I’ve held most dear. Do not presume to know my suffering!”

When her face fell, he instantly kissed her hands devotedly. “Forgive me—I—”

“I understand,” Anairë said soothingly. “I shall seek out your father in his halls of miserable memory. We both know that I lack the fiery determination of the one who might have easily convinced him to set fire to his precious trove, but I shall do my best for you.”

“If he will not desist,” Fingon muttered. “At least convince him to accept symbols of fonder, happier memories to be added to his assortment of knickknacks.”

Reaching into his pocket, he extricated a golden ribbon, knotted around a slender ring into which was woven a gleaming, red stone.

“Fëanáro made that ring,” Anairë gasped. “He fashioned it when Nerdanel—when—back…”

“He made it for his firstborn son,” Findekáno nodded slowly. “I entrust to you, my parents, my guiding stars, the childhood we’ve lost. I’ve spoken to my siblings and to all our returned kin—not one has denied me, and I shall soon be in possession of objects that are more precious than the armour we wore and the banners we carried.”

“So be it,” Anairë smiled, full of pride and yet also deeply humbled by the stubborn, reckless wisdom and determination of her son. “I’ll go to your father right away.”

Before she did so, though, she slipped back into the room she’d occupied during her long abiding as the mere ghost of a wife who was not even granted the quiet dignity of a rightfully grieving widow.

Just like Findekáno, she had kept certain things. Beneath the anger, the resentment, and the burning hatred, there had been stubborn memories, deeper and more precious, that she’d shielded and guarded ferociously, defending them from herself and the devastating violence of her own helpless wrath.

Maybe, she considered, it was now time to return them to the one she had always loved more than hated—a fact for which she’d oft reprimanded and punished herself severely throughout the ages.

“Your children are worried,” she called as she entered her husband’s vault on silent soles; after all this time apart, she no longer knew how to properly address him, and every word that came to mind—his name, his title, husband—burned on her tongue like acid. “Your heir sends me in lieu of that half-brother who might never return.”

Whirling around agonisingly slowly, Ñolofinwë raised his mournful, dull gaze to her radiant face with all the humble penitence of a dolorous supplicant kneeling at the feet of a divine statue.

“He sends you the insignia of his heart rather than of his house,” she went on, laying down her son’s offerings before Ñolofinwë. “And I’d like to add my own most cherished keepsakes to the pile.”

Steeling herself, she opened her other hand and produced a dried flower and a piece of torn fabric.

“I don’t know if you remember, Ñolofinwë, son of Finwë and Indis, and if you don’t, I am here to remind you…These are from—”

“When we danced in the light of the Mingling—you were so beautiful…” he finished her sentence in a quiet but unhesitant voice. “I do remember—I’ve replayed that memory in my heart whenever the dread and doom grew too overpowering.”

“These are from the exact moment I knew that I loved you and that I’d marry you,” Anairë corrected gently. “You swung me around so enthusiastically that my beautiful dress got tangled in an errant branch and ripped. Eru, you were so apologetic…”

“And then we kissed until we were both out of breath with laughter and—”

“Shamefaced horniness?” Anairë cackled. She had missed his sparkling humour as much as his tendency to baulk at salacious subjects, and her shattered heart started to mend. “I remember that as well. Don’t you dare blush now—we’ve conceived and raised the fruits of that sacred desire together. Do you recall?”

“I remember tearing them from you,” Ñolofinwë replied tonelessly. “I recollect their deaths, far from you, far from me…”

“But they were not,” she opined carefully, falling to her knees and cupping his cheek with a love she had deemed dead and destroyed. “Look upon these mementoes, husband, and understand that—from our first kiss to their last breath—not one moment of our story has been forgotten or lost. We’ve all held on to those memories in our own way. Cast away broken crowns and hearts! Feast your eyes and soul on the love that was—and that shall be again, I hope!”

@fellowshipofthefics here's a sweet one, for once

Welcome aboard for a new fic! I love to have you...and today, we'll have a canon ship <3

Lots of love and well-wishes!

-> Masterlist

#og post #Dark Romance Prompts #Sweet and Spicy Bingo #Sweet #Fanfiction #writing #IDNMT writes #jrrt #Tolkien fanfiction #Memorabilia #First Kiss #Fingolfin x Anairë #canon ship for once #Fingolfin #Anairë #Fingon #slight sadness #lots of regrets

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