#she does Some Things with this gift of foresight | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vigilskeep · 8 months

Note

"The hand that feeds is the hand that's loved" - Gale Dekarios

Huh. Ain't he the camp cook? 🤔

YEAH I GOT THAT LINE...

there’s a lot going on. isn’t there. i think gale is a person who sees relationships as very transactional in a way and has to keep promising he has something to offer, from the moment you meet him and he assures you that saving him was a “foresighted kindness” he will repay on the journey, to the fact that most relationships in his life including the all-defining one with mystra stem from all the brilliance and magical talent he can offer, to his desire to repay what he sees as a debt of good owed to tara for taking care of him and keeping him alive at a time when he probably saw himself as having little to offer. he’s someone who likes to share—he does this by sharing thoughts and information too, and knowledge and magic like in the weave scene—and in some way he’s proving his value, at the same time as he’s demonstrating affection or thanks or goodwill or just wanting to share what he loves, which is also very real, he adores what he’s fascinated with and tries to share that wonder. of course his “folly” with what he attempted for mystra, to restore one jewel to an imperfect crown as he puts it, is the ultimate attempt at gift giving to prove value, and redress the insecurities you couldn’t help but feel if your great but finite mortal talent was what drew the attention of a goddess. and what she wants of him in the game is also transactional in a way he is accustomed to; it’s about restoring himself in her eyes by offering the most service no matter what it costs him

i think specifically what i find heart-breaking about making food being such a core language for him is that it’s so simple and human and you can’t imagine mystra partaking in it at all, when she seems to have blotted out everything else in his life for a long time

a couple things i also think are relevant in ways i can’t fully articulate are that when elminster arrives with the news, he insists on food rather than wait for it to be given freely, and that gale’s condition is referred to as arcane hunger and only resolved by not just consumption but tara and the player character having to provide that “food” for consumption. the latter methinks is partly a pretty clear translation for care needing to be expressed to him back in the same way, and he should not be as apologetic as he is about needing it

#gale

130 notes · View notes

most-datable-datable-bracket · 9 months

Text

BONUS POLL 3

Anti propaganda warning under the cut

V anti propaganda:

"- This man is so undatable, he's barely present in his own route or after end.

- The martyr complex this dude has is legitimately arrogant, taking blame for something you don't have control over isn't noble, it's just self-sabotaging. Taking blame for shit you do have control over and CHOOSING to change nothing makes the apology worthless. 🙃

-How does a man this rich have the balls to be so dumb? Bro, your bestie is also rich af and was gifted a fuckin island as a kid, why didn't you take the abused little ginger boys there for safety instead of shuffling one into a shady agency and the other to your increasingly unhinged gf who is waist-deep in setting up her cult?? Jumin would have had his back and V didn't even give him the chance to prove it!!

- This man chose to pursue a relationship with a woman who is mentally unstable and let himself become her whole world bc he felt guilty for treating his own disabled mother poorly. When you boil it down, this man chose a woman as a project and proposed to her within months instead of getting therapy for himself. 🫠

- V also lied to his and said gf's friends and family, telling them she committed suicide instead of turning her into the police for starting a cult, leading to the severe depression of her younger cousin and allowing her to continue drugging and brainwashing one of the twins he smuggled along with possibly hundreds of other people.

- When confronted over this, he still resists turning Rika into the police. For contrast, the younger cousin who idolized her immediately restrained her, stopped her from slipping party guests drugged wine and got the police on her. He is a 28 year old man and left the task to her 21 year old cousin who has had the emotional whiplash of finding out that not only was he right about V lying, but Rika is alive, AND she is very mentally unwell and has committed some major crimes.

- V is also mentally unstable af. In other routes, not just bad ends, he also returns to HELP HIS GF DO CULT SHIT.

- This is just subjective, but this wet mop of a man is also boring as shit which is why Cheritz kept him mostly vague and stuck to the background. If you want the fucked up relationship dynamics, just get one of the bad ends with Rika tbh, she at least serves lewks with her brand of crazy cunt.

- in short, you will never be in an equal partnership with this man and he won't be held accountable. The one time he tried, he said some pretty obviously triggering things to the crazy gf and got stabbed. He did not have the foresight to come with backup, announce where he would be, etc. He lived only because the gf that stabbed him calls you to come help him while she's still spiraling out of control.

I say this with full respect to the V fans, who are well aware that this man is an absolute mess and needs so much therapy before he's anywhere in the realm of salvaging his friendships, much less being dateable."

Baxter anti propaganda:

"baxter ward has a summer fling with you, which is fine because you agree to date only for the summer. however, when the time comes to break up, he does so in like the most brutal fashion possible. there was no need to be that much of a dick about it. he then proceeds to ghost you for five years.

five years later, when you meet once again, he opts to ignore you at best and continue being a dick at worst for the first half of step 4. there's no reason anyone should desire to get back together with the man. he needs therapy, not a partner."

#v mystic messenger #jihyun kim #mystic messenger #mysme #baxter ward #our life #our life beginnings & always #bonus poll #most datable datable character

131 notes · View notes

presiding · 11 months

Text

formerly an essay in tags but - billie lurk. half-nameless, misremembered woman. her powers derived from the things taken from her, without any catharsis or empowerment. the rat charm, tied with deidre's hair, her lover's voice in the mouth of rats. her arm and eye, taken, given back only to cause her chronic pain, then lost again. foresight seems a cruel gift for a woman who botched the timing of her takeover of the whalers, and bet wrong when it came to delilah.

she never bore the outsider's blessing; his first visit to her was more like an assault. every other dishonored POV character gets the choice to be selfish, and for that selfishness to mean something, but billie's actions have no effect on the world at large, either, in a game without a chaos system.

some say that corvo is the ghost, but he can reach out and change things. billie's buried herself twice and come back and nothing she does seems to matter - she is less a protagonist, more a convenient full stop in the narrative.

try this: open doto, start a new game. sit in her cabin. notice how little of billie there is. even the woman she loved more than anyone has the face of another named character.

she sits amongst the assets of other games: empty canvases and a dressmaker's mannequin that wears nothing.

#billie lurk #even the wiki is wrong about her its infuriating #pulled this out of tags because fuck it #in daud's DLCs even the stories that weren't about him were about him #but billie's stories are the scrapheap. they're the stuff they couldn't squeeze in elsewhere. cheap jokes and macguffins #i'm not even roasting the devs for this i think releasing dishonored in 2016 then DotO in 2017 was a feat (derogatory)#games should be made slowly and with love #and i know that everyones talked about this endlessly #but billie is my fav and it sucks that she got a game that only causes me to grieve for her as a character #not FOR her as a person #only the potential story that never was. that she never got.#you can have your strong black woman and not turn her into a trope. give her depth and range and heartache and agency. yes there was traged #but how did it SHAPE her?#dont get me started on her being designated caretaker of a former god and dying assassin. what the fuck #some of this i'd be more okay with if she was younger - i mean. the blank canvases? really?#this game could have been about wyman and there's not that much that would have changed in terms of the core story #“found out the asshole that killed your mother is still around. gonna go deal with that.”#emily who is stoned: “cool.bring me snacks on the way back”#wyman: “oh he's saying actually it was gods fault and that its possible to kill him. well i have literally nothing in my schedule”#billie's not surprised by anything anymore but maybe wyman would freak out over most of it. could have been a lot of fun #also you cant fuck up wymans characterisation. they barely exist.#local empress sends her enby girlboyfriend to kill god #pres writes increasingly deranged essays in the tags #death of the outsider spoilers #i have to complain about doto once every year or so or i die #but i'm not really gonna let arkane hide behind dev excuses when it comes to racism like. its not enough

64 notes · View notes

imkillerbae · 1 year

Text

Plush Drama (Yoru Valorant)

(A/N: First time writing on Tumblr. Help a noob out please idk what i'm doing. Anyway, this is a long one-shot with Yoru barely saying anything because he's a shy fuck. It's mostly actions. Hope ya'll enjoy, and feel free to request anything!) Pairing: Yoru/GN!Reader

Summary: You receive a unexpected gift from an unexpected person. Word count: 1.4k ----------

You held the small plush toy with both of your hands, outstretched as if shy of the small stuffed animal. The soft and squishy black cat followed you with its large green eyes as you inspect it from different angles. And while you loved stuffed animals, where it came from gave you a bit of a strange impression.

--Hours Before—

A few of the agents came back from a mission in an undisclosed location (either that or you just weren’t listening very well). It was not unusual for them to bring knickknacks home, especially for Sage. She liked looking out for the other agents.

But you weren’t expecting anything from him at all.

When you first met Yoru when you joined the operation, you thought he was a pain in the ass. He was always straightforward with his thoughts about people, including you. With foresight, you know he means well, but of course, his constant insults in the beginning of your friendship made you make sure you proved him wrong in every occasion. Even if it meant going the extra mile of learning how to use the operator from the mysterious Chamber. With that, you proved yourself to be his equals in skill, and therefore gained his respect and trust. You could even say you were good friends.

Although recently he’s been acting strangely. It was the small things that you noticed about him. During meetings, you’d always catch him glancing at your direction from the reflection of the window as you feigned disinterest in the mission briefings. You bump into him frequently when you leave your room in the hallways, despite his room being on an entirely different floor. During conversations, he’d try to say something, then bail on it immediately. And when you ask about it, he suddenly needs to leave, or he changes the topic. Then sometimes, he’d go completely distant, and won’t even look at your general direction. It was getting on your nerves if you were being honest. He was always secretive, but could he at least pretend to be not hiding something from you?

So, this gesture of his—giving you the stuffed animal—made you question everything.

You and the rest of the agents watched as the plane dropped off Brimstone, Sage, Phoenix, and lastly, Yoru. As the whirring of the engine faded, Yoru held the poor cat by the throat and shoved it to your chest as he walked past, Vandal hanging from his shoulder. “Take it,” he says curtly without looking back at your confused face. You don’t hear Sage and Phoenix giggle at each other.

You chase after him, pulling his arm back. His raises a brow at you, wiping back his gelled hair. “What?” He asks.

“What do you mean ‘what’? What’s this for?” You held the cat up to his face. He was much taller than you. “You act weird before you left, you’re gone for a week, and all you say to me is ‘take it’ and shove this… this thing at me? Where did you even get this?” Your voice rises out of annoyance.

He glares back at you, pushing the plushy down. “I found it on our way back. Didn’t look too trashed so I thought I’d take it.”

“Where exactly?”

“On the floor of some place.”

“Near where?”

“I don’t know, some place! Does it matter?”

Your face scrunches up in disbelief. The nerve of this guy! “Of course it does!” You cross your arms while gripping the toy animal. The poor thing was getting beaten up.

“So let me get this straight, you see a stuffed animal on the floor, in perfect condition, and instead of bringing it to a guard or whatever for lost and found, you take it for yourself, then decide you don’t like it enough to keep, so you give it to me?” You sway your hips to one side, your feet tapping on the metal flooring impatiently. Now it was Yoru’s turn in crossing his arms, mimicking you.

“God forbid there’s some kid out there crying over their stuffed cat.” You sigh.

“Look, do you want the animal or not?” He asks after your rambling, gritting his teeth while he spoke. Your words get caught up in your throat. Of course, you wanted it. But you were just too confused, and a little disappointed about where it came from. “If you don’t want it, I can always give it to Skye. Maybe her summons need new friends. I’d like to contribute to her zoo anyways.” He sighs, his eyes wandering while he held out his hand to you. Obviously he wanted you to keep it, but his stubbornness is keeping him from admitting it.

The mention of Skye made your stomach churn. You didn’t know why. But before you could reply, Phoenix spoke from behind Yoru. “Oh for God’s sakes man. Just tell her where it came from.” He says, and Yoru snaps his head towards his direction, telling him ‘shut up’ in Japanese. You talked enough with Yoru to know what he was saying.

“Tell me what?” You asked again. Yoru slowly turns his head back to you again, his cheeks dusted with a pale red. “He got that cat from a crane machine we passed by on our way back. He insisted on staying until he got that cat. And boy was he relentless!” Phoenix answered for him, while Yoru clenched his fists. “Shut your mouth unless you want me to—” but Phoenix continues, leaning an elbow on Yoru’s tense shoulders playfully.

“He spent so much time and money, we almost thought of leaving him there. And as you can see, Yoru Jr. got out of that box alive.” Phoenix shrugs and walks away, Jett trailing behind him as they held hands. Yoru’s jaw slacked, before he started cursing under his breath, gulping.

You stare at him, his posture defeated, a hand on his hip as he tried to find the words he wanted to say. You pouted slightly, then held the cat in your arms. “Is that true?” You asked him, and you couldn’t even tell that the rest were watching you from a distance.

He sighs and shrugs. “Again, does it matter?” He looks at you in the eyes, his expression softer now. You bit your lip before smiling and hugged the cat tighter. “Again, it does.” You reply quietly, smiling against the cat’s soft fur. “Thank you Yoru. This is actually very sweet of you.”

He rolls his eyes, but his scowl disappears. While he looked so nonchalant on the outside, on the inside, he was panicking. He didn’t know how you’d take it if you knew where it came from. He was horrible at communicating his intentions. He saw that cat and decided that he had to get it for you, no matter what the cost. Because it looked like something you’d like. “So, you’ll keep it?” He asks meekly, his right hand fidgeting with the zipper of his jacket. God, was he bad at this.

“Hmm. No.” You say curtly, which took him by surprise. His eyes widen, and he felt his heart drop. You laugh at his sudden change of expression. He was not easy to startle so you took note of every small detail of his face.

“Well, not today at least. I think it’s best if Yoru Jr. spent time with his dad one last night before he’s completely in my care.” You continued, walking past him, now being able to smile widely while your back was turned to him. He blushes, heartbeat increasing. “Wait—dad?” He asks, following behind you and matching your pace. Looking back, you giggle at him. “Plus, I know you’re tired from the mission, and he would be a great pillow.”

With you warmly receiving his gift, he couldn’t speak. His brain couldn’t find the words to say. As someone who was so curt and straightforward, and admittedly rude at times, you always had him too starstruck to say anything. So instead of saying anything, he pets the cat while you held it. After a while, he finds his voice. “Does that make you his mom?”

Now it was your turn to blush. You look at him and he’s already staring at your eyes. Both of your hearts were in sync. You laugh lightly holding his gaze, then shyly shrug. “I guess so.” Butterflies fly around in your stomach as he returns a soft smile. God, were you glad he was back.

#valorant yoru #yoru x reader #valorant yoru x reader #valorant imagines #valorant #valorant headcanons #valorant yoru imagines #valorant yoru oneshot #valorant oneshots #valorant oneshot #yoru #fanfiction #valorant fanfiction

128 notes · View notes

cajon-desastre · 1 year

Text

What a night

It was an unexpected gift, appreciated and enjoyed.

On the life of me I can assure you that I never believed that I would become part of the events of yesterday.

The rest I put behind the cut, it's too long and in case anyone wants to scroll and ignore my ramblings 😉

It all started by contacting another fan and meeting to see the atmosphere, curiosity mainly due to the fact that it was the first time that this event with Sam was held in Spain and, specifically, in Madrid, in my city. And I had another fan giving me virtual spanks if she didn't at least come look. The surprise was arriving at the building where it was going to be held and my friend telling me that she had gotten a double invitation and that I was her guest.

At that point my zen attitude went down the drain lol.🤣

During the waiting time at the entrance we observed the people who were queuing to enter, we assume that everyone had an invitation and the joy of the people was already noticeable, some came from Glasgow, London, Paris,…Honestly, I have always considered myself fan but not fanatic and it is a universe that surprised me by the amount of time and money that people can dedicate to their idol. Of course everyone is free to enjoy it in their own way.

It also gave us time to see the organization and it was disturbing to see that there were no fences, a bad thing when there are certain fans who have no limits and it could be a security problem.

In that time I also learned about the micro universe that is fan groups, their sections and their leaders. Not only was I already warned of what I was going to find, but it is worrying how these people become the "best fans" with the right to direct/say what to do and try to get noticed by all possible means. I think these women are not aware of the image they project, for me it was really creepy.

Once the gates opened, and we took up positions in the best places we could find, we had to wait a long time. The group I met with made funny comments, photos, selfies, and we watched people do the exact same thing. I saw solidarity and good gestures. Next to me was a girl with an older person who turned out to be her grandmother, because the young girl was accompanying her, the fan was her grandmother! hahaha. 🤣 The average age? The truth is that I saw everything but there were younger people than I expected, also some boys although fewer.

And we keep waiting. With the music on loop and there was nothing happening. They warned that the doors were going to be closed and people would not be able to go in or out and we stayed like that for a good half hour in which the mobile phones were on, focused on the doors waiting for the great appearance but the people from backstage were joking opening a door and then another. My phone battery was going to die if I kept waiting like that. Lack of foresight on my part because I had not expected to see myself in that situation a few hours before.

Until the master of ceremonies arrived dressed in a kilt and began to make jokes and cheer the audience. Now I know that, during that waiting time and the appearance of the emcee, Sam arrived and spent those minutes taking photos and signing the cards and books that would then be drawn at the end.

Yes, there was a raffle at the end, but I'll get to that.

And the big moment arrived and with it the madness, well, you'll be tired of watching videos of the grand entrance. Luckily for me he entered through the door closest to where he was sitting and I could see it in his full height.

And with him I also noticed two bodyguards who were part of the entourage that accompanied him to the stage.

The panel does not deserve that I tell you much more than what has been seen, it is there for those who want to see it in the usual places. Correct, funny and affable with the translator (thank goodness, I thought I wasn't going to find out anything), the interview was about what we already know or have seen in other events or interviews.

My shipper side was happy. Cait is always present in one way or another. At first he said that he practiced Spanish with her on set when he found out that he was coming to Spain (something unnecessary to say when the event was about him) and then, watching the scene at the printing press when he said that she shined . 🥰

The magical moment, for me, was when they aired the wedding clip, Jamie Fraser introducing himself to Claire with his full name. A chorus of voices recited the long Scotsman's name at once, myself included.

That was the moment, it is when you feel part of a community.

But there were also uncomfortable moments for women who do not know the limits of decorum and knowing how to be. Yelling things at Sam that would make him feel uncomfortable. The moderator had to divert the conversation on a couple of occasions. I will only put, for example, that they shouted insisting that they put on the wedding, the wedding night. Or comparing Sam to Jamie and asking how they were alike and yelling that it was her body. Sam deflected saying that was a body double.

That is the problem that I see in these meetings, the objectification and only considering it a piece of meat. And the liberties that certain fans want to take.

And as he arrived, he left, surrounded by security and with the phones taking photos and videos to save the last memory.

The doors were closed again and they wouldn't let people out…because there was going to be a raffle.

Then I understood Movistar's strategy in this event, intelligent and that made security very good. All the people were held in their places until Sam left, the same as when he arrived. Thus, complicated situations were avoided. No fences were needed at the entrance for that reason, it was never the intention to let Sam get close to people.

It may have been something that disappointed many, but it was much better that way.

And with the raffle came moments of embarrassment, because the bottle of water from which he had drunk was even raffled… anyway.🙄

The fun thing about the raffle is that there were signed books, Scottish cushions, cards with his autograph,… but do you know what really drove people crazy? The fan that he had used and he got a girl from our group hahaha.

Photos? I did a few but they weren't very good and I knew much better photos would be posted and videos too, I preferred to look at the stage and enjoy.

I will remember being able to be in the right place at the right time, thanks to the great generosity of my fan friend. Without her this would not have been possible and neither would I have been able to share my experience with you.

Will I repeat if the occasion arises again? I don't know, honestly. It has been magical because it was unique in Spain and that is why it is already special. When the time comes, if it comes, I'll think about it.

For that, thank you, thank you, thank you for doing the impossible so that I could enter the event. My little, jovial and nervous Fairy Godmother 🥰

Thank you, also to those enthusiastic girls who accompanied her and to whom I was able to put a face to several of them.

And thanks to Sam for having been encouraged to finally come to my country.

#Sam Heughan #Welcome Madrid Sam #my thoughts

181 notes · View notes

mightymizora · 8 months

Note

If you take requests... I'm obsessed with Manva and Gortash, what about if they held hands? When would it happen? How would it happen? Why would it happen? Love you!

Listen, I was absolutely VIBRATING with excitement waking up to this ask. Thank you for letting me write more about my horrid darlings. So here we have a little, kind of sweet (?) thing.

Hand in Unloveable Hand

Pairing: Manva Warhelm (The Dark Urge) x Enver Gortash

834 words. CW from the first sentences for violence. Stop reading now if you don't want that!

There is a bite mark between her thumb and forefinger, still raw even as the flesh is knitting back together. He remembers when she got it from the Miyar boy, Kriston, who bit down on her with all his might as she ripped his jaw from his face.

The first time they met, after months of coded messages, of offerings, of displays and promises and desires.

There are deep, deep callouses on her knuckles and cracks in the skin from her work. Her hands are instruments. She uses them with precision.

There is a freckle larger than the others that he always leans in to kiss first, right beneath her ring finger.

He takes off the rings from his own; the vulgar diamond from Lady Jannath and the signet he had designed by the master metalsmiths of the gate. His crest, his seal, his power. As he lays them down on his bedside table a sweeping thought comes and goes; he will have to take a wife soon, one of the patriar’s daughters. Perhaps Jannath’s daughter with her hair of flame would be a fair substitute. If she has the fervour of her mother, at least he won’t want for some fun.

Manva is naked in his bed having washed away the viscera of their hellish escapade, her hair still wet and stuck to her skin. His servants prepared her a bath; he took the time to add lavender oil, the finest soaps, and he can smell it on her now he is close. She is laid out on his bed like a corpse in a coffin, and her skin is cold as he touches her, as she watches his hand run down the deep scar that sits from under her breast down to the softest part of her abdomen. A gift from her sister.

“You were perfect today,” he tells her, taking her hand to kiss. “Perfect.”

They tore through the defences of the vault of Mephistopheles, his knowledge and foresight, her talents unleashed against any foe that dared to stop them. She tore the heads from imps, broke through the ribcages of hellsboars with swift, strong kicks.

She laughs at the memory of it and it is pure joy, pure glee, and he cannot help himself but to laugh with her. It is an after-glow, her desires sated, and he wants nothing more than to give her everything she needs so he can keep her here, keep her like this, in his bed like this. But she will want more. She will always want more, and so will he.

He looks at his hand, balanced carefully under hers as their laughter fades. She has scrubbed the blood from under her nails, but her hands are still a worker’s hands. He has fought to lose such trappings of poverty. He has soaked, filed, scraped away any sign of it. He picks the skin from around his nails until they bleed.

He turns her hand in his and, as if they were not connected to his body, his fingers start to lace with hers. Her hands are as big as his, strong weapons that envelop him.

“Enver,” she says, the dark rich sweep of her voice piercing the silence. “What are you doing?”

He should be scared

he should be scared

he should be terrified.

But he is mesmerised.

“I do not know.”

“It is not like you, to have no plan.”

“Forgive me.”

She could tear his arm off, but she does not. Instead her fingers close around him, her thumb strokes his, and she leans in to kiss him close to his temple.

“I can hear your heart, Enver. It is deafening. I want to tear you open. I want to touch my lips to your heart.”

He pushes her hair from her face where it sticks to her, and presses his lips to her throat. She does not move, but he is close enough to feel her swallow.

There is a knock at the door.

He had forgotten they had sent for them, but it was the ritual, after all. Rumours had started to swarm through the common folk; do not go to Lord Gortash at night, they go in and they do not come back out. But it was a simple thing to remedy. Offer more gold. In the weight of mortality and riches, greed always won. He well remembered the weighting of it, the constant stream of souls into the hells, the simple act of transaction.

He feels something stir in him at the dark look that passes over her. He will place the bag of money in sight, he will see the balance of fear and greed in the eyes of this poor young girl with the flame red hair. Manva will let them please him and she will rip them apart with her beautiful hands. It is a perfect sacrifice to their lords. An offering, an apology even, for their greatest sin.

The sin of loving each other.

#my fic #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #the dark urge #enver gortash #manva warhelm #my awful darlings #durgetash #genuinely this made my LIFE

24 notes · View notes

thelordofgifs · 1 year

Text

make their words a doom irrevocable

(On Míriel Therindë, her descendants, and flawed prophecies.)

It's generally accepted that foresight is a particular gift of the House of Finarfin. Finrod has it in spades, as does Galadriel. The House of Fëanor, on the other hand, is often portrayed as the opposite: blindly caught in their own doom, with no foresight or wisdom to cut their way free. I'd like to advance an alternative headcanon that I'm rather fond of: many of the Fëanorians had a sort of twisted gift of prophecy, where they saw parts of the future and, in their eagerness to prevent the events they saw, ended up causing them – kind of like anti-Cassandras, if you will.

Let's start with Míriel herself, who doesn't have a lot to say or do in the published silm (although I understand there's more on her in the Histories). One of her two lines of dialogue, however, absolutely haunts me: "But hold me blameless in this, and in all that may come after." This is what she tells Finwë prior to going to Lórien, where she eventually dies. Míriel knows something of the terrible things her son will do or cause to happen. That's chilling! Is that part of why she's so weary – she's afraid of what Fëanor will do? But if she hadn't died in the first place, would Fëanor have become the person he did? Did Míriel's knowledge of the future, and her reaction to that knowledge, actually cause it? I think so!

Thesis established, we'll move on to Fëanor himself. The text is pretty unambiguous about Fëanor's foresight. A few examples:

On the making of the Silmarils: "For Fëanor, being come to his full might, was filled with a new thought, or it may be that some shadow of foreknowledge came to him of the doom that drew near; and he pondered how the light of the Trees, the glory of the Blessed Realm, might be preserved imperishable."

On the exile to Formenos: "Thither also came Finwë the King, because of the love that he bore to Fëanor; and Fingolfin ruled the Noldor in Tirion. Thus the lies of Melkor were made true in seeming, though Fëanor by his own deeds had brought this thing to pass; and the bitterness that Melkor had sown endured, and lived still long afterwards between the sons of Fingolfin and Fëanor." (emphasis mine, because !!!)

From his speech in Tirion post-Darkening: "Shall we mourn here deedless for ever, a shadow-folk, mist-haunting, dropping vain tears in the thankless sea?" Hmm who does that put me in mind of, Fëanor? Your own second son by any chance?

After the Valar exile him for his Oath: "Such hurt at the least will I do to the Foe of the Valar that even the mighty in the Ring of Doom shall wonder to hear it." That certainly happens – but Fëanor isn't the one to do it.

Drifting into speculation, why does Fëanor make the breathtakingly idiotic decision to burn the swan-ships? Does he maybe catch some glimpse of a future where his host and Fingolfin's sit divided an opposite shores of a lake, and so seek to consolidate his own position as leader of the Noldor by abandoning those who would betray him? But in burning the ships, he eventually causes the kingship to pass to Fingolfin. Perhaps flawed foresight and terrible judgement strike again!

What about Fëanor's sons – do they inherit his foresight too? Before I drift completely into headcanon territory, I'd like to argue that there is one son who canonically fits this paradigm: Curufin. From the Nargothrond Incident: "And after Celegorm Curufin spoke, more softly but with no less power, conjuring in the minds of the Elves a vision of war and the ruin of Nargothrond. So great a fear did he set in their hearts that never after until the time of Túrin would any Elf of that realm go into open battle". But actually Curufin is kind of right? When the Elves of Nargothrond do eventually go into open battle, the realm falls. Building the bridge was a bad idea. In fact, even the company that Gwindor leads to the Nirnaeth all tragically die there (with the exception of Gwindor himself, who's taken captive)! But, on the other hand, if Curufin hadn't scared the entire kingdom out of fighting, the Nirnaeth might have been won in the first place.

Okay now have some headcanons completely unsupported by anything textual.

Consider Amrod on the crossing to Middle-earth, watching the dark mass of this strange new continent approach. He hasn't heard his mother's prophecy, "one at least will never set foot on Middle-earth"; all the same, he knows with sick bone-deep certainty that Beleriand will be the death of him. He cannot stay here. He has to sail back to Aman, as soon as he can. When they finally come to land, he slips away below deck instead of coming ashore to sleep, and tells his twin that he'll be more comfortable on the ship – how can he say, I will die if I stay in Middle-earth? He doesn't wake up again.

Consider Celebrimbor and Gil-galad talking at the very dawn of the Second Age, as the last remnants of broken Beleriand are swallowed by the Sea. "The wrath of the Valar," says Gil-galad. "How can they dare aid us again, when they know what destruction it has wrought?"

"They will not come directly," says Tyelpë, with a sudden flash of insight. "They will send emissaries instead: Maiar, to guide and counsel us."

He remembers that odd certainty later, when one calling himself the Lord of Gifts comes to Eregion.

And now consider Maedhros, the original maker of misguided decisions, pondering Morgoth's offer of parley. His instincts tell him it must be a trap, but he also has the feeling that it is not strength of arms that will save the Noldor now, but diplomacy and political savviness – all the qualities he was known for in Tirion once. And he is right! It’s his good sense and willingness to compromise that effect the reunification of the Noldor, a reunification that might never have happened had Fingon not rescued him from Thangorodrim in the first place.

Similarly, when he’s putting together the Union of Maedhros, does he know that all his efforts are doomed to fail? Or does he once again see too far into the future, to the plains of Dagorlad and the victory, against all odds, of a Last Alliance of Elves and Men against a Dark Lord in his fortress? “It is only by uniting all the Free Peoples that we can hope to prevail,” he tells his doubtful brothers, and insists that the sons of Ulfang are to join their alliance.

And also consider a time in Himring, not long after the Dagor Aglareb, when Maglor has ridden over for a quick visit and is explaining, cheerfully, that it’s a good thing his captain managed to dispatch that one orc from a recent raid before it could lop his head off: “Nobody else can command the cavalry, if I died you’d have a terrible gap in your defences, you know!”

But Maedhros grabs his wrist with sudden force and says vehemently, “Káno, you will never die—”

—Maglor thinks about that, later, by the Sea.

#silmarillion #meta #my meta #the line of miriel #miriel #feanor #curufin #celebrimbor #maedhros #idk is this anything #I’m attached to it either way

145 notes · View notes

vidumavi · 11 months

Note

If you ever want to elaborate about Berúthiel, please do! Your thoughts are so elegant and interesting

-@outofangband

I do want to talk about Berúthiel i love her so much. Thank you for the ask <3

At first, she's set up to be a fairly ordinary tragedy- a girl is married off into an unhappy marriage to a royal from elsewhere for the sake of political alliance, her only purpose from then on is producing heirs. She hates her husband, she hates the kingdom she was shipped off to where everyone thinks she's strange and foreign. That's a sad story but it's ultimately one among many sad stories like it.

Except somehow, she either genuinely has a gift for sorcery or is cunning enough to make people believe she does (or to play into rumours that already existed). She also decides to lean into her anger rather than try to assimilate or garner people's favour- not an easy thing to commit to, since she's trapped at the mercy of her husband with no means of escape, but she returns everyone's scorn tenfold and builds a reputation that makes people afraid enough to still whisper her name thousands of years later. Maybe they called her evil and a witch from the beginning and she thought I will be ten times worse than you think me and took it as a challenge rather than a reason to grovel. Maybe she set out from the beginning with the plan to make them suffer her presence if she had to suffer theirs, I don't know; I do know that she managed to snatch the one thing from her husband that he needed her for: somehow, through all their years of marriage, there are no heirs, though nobody knows why (cat-based sorcery is suggested). She claws back (ha) an outrageous amount of agency for someone in her position.

(Not even the political alliance plan works out because her husband's successor conquers Umbar where she likely came from 20ish years later. That's another thing: she had to marry into a family she probably knew was a danger to her home)

I think her husband tried to kill her. He has plausible deniability, sure, but I don't think you put someone notoriously hostile to all things ocean on a boat and send her out to sea if you're trying to facilitate a safe journey (sidenote: I think it's interesting how she hated the sea her whole life and then she's put out to sea in what might have been a murder attempt. I like to think there was some foresight involved). Nobody knows for sure what happened to her, except that she was last seen at sea, but she doesn't die in Gondor, that's why i called her a haunting without a ghost: her name (a name that was likely given to her after she moved to Gondor) remains until the 4th age (forever tainting the name of the royal family a little, forever referencing an episode that heavily features Gondor's racism and imperialism (and like, misogyny in general). I think she'd be very uncomfortable for some of them to sincerely think about, which is part of why she's vilified so much) but she herself did escape in the end.

#AND she's a lesbian. and she's probably poisoned some people. and she is my poor little meow meow #there are so few fucked up women in tolkien berúthiel and thuringwethil are holding down the fort almost by themselves </3 #but i will love them all the more for it #i also love YOU thank you for giving me an excuse to ramble about her #berúthiel #in case you are wondering yes i did forget her husbands name which is what he deserves

41 notes · View notes

tinyvoicejill · 11 months

Note

For the prompt thing I don’t think this is very vague but superpowers? (I’m back in a supercorp era I fear)

(I am too babe there’s no shame… unfortunately this is not like Supercorp at all lmao. Also some content warnings on this one for descriptions of drowning/death experiences and some general body unpleasantness?)

----

Talk of the people with gifts resembles that of boogeymen or ghosts. They’re not real things, just threats you tell your children to keep them in bed.

“Stay asleep,” they warn with a jovial tone too light for terrified children to identify. “Lest the monsters get you.”

Children grow up and stop believing in the monsters, at least in their minds. But their hearts and bodies never forget, not fully, and so when they do in fact encounter something - someone - who their minds know should not exist, they’re left with a confusing, skin crawling sensation they can never quite explain. They hate and they fear, but they don’t know why.

That’s how it’s always felt to Carson, at least.

Like they didn’t really understand where their intense dislike for her came from, just that they all feel it. It’d been like that with her mother too, growing up. People feared her, and they feared Carson along with her. Her dad had helped temper the hatred some - the gifted are always easier to tolerate around others. Like a lion in a zoo - you can sense the power they hold, but you feel protected from them. It’s when you’re caught alone with one that the primordial parts of your brain really sense the danger.

Nothing is scarier than being alone with another person: for them first, and then for Carson as a result. The safest she can be is invisible. Carson tries to stay lost in crowds or completely alone whenever possible, though crowds bring their own dangers as well. After all, the more people there are the greater the chances some future atrocity is lurking ahead for one of them. And whatever horrors lay ahead for these strangers Carson will know. Will feel.

That is her gift and curse: foresight. She feels it beneath her skin like a slithering vine whenever she’s near one of them. It whispers warnings in her bones, and its whispers grow louder the nearer they are to her or to their fate. For as long as she’s been able to tell, Carson has always known when bad things were about to happen to others. Their future anger, their terror, their demises - all of it calls out to her before they’re realized. Sometimes days ahead, sometimes hours. Sometimes seconds. She’d cry into the night as a child, pillow wrapped tight around her head, and beg her mother to make it stop. Beg her to take away the gift.

“The gift is not a part of you, my love. It is you. You can’t stop it. I’m so sorry.”

Her mother carried so much guilt for her gift, for creating her at all. Carson always figured that’s why she left them. The guilt was too much. Carson was too much. Something her mother never told her, perhaps never even realized, was that there was something Carson could do to end the devastating grief of the gift.

She could stop the bad thing from happening.

She realized as a teenager when she felt the impending assault of a classmate. When the pain felt too large to ignore and she followed its guiding pull behind the school moments before the attack. When she was able to hit the man before he could harm. Her classmate had hugged her, thanked her, and all the pain she’d felt for hours vanished. That’s when she knew the gift wasn’t a punishment. It’s a responsibility.

She’d become a small-time hero of sorts, though few knew to what degree. People in town seem to loathe her less, even if they still fear her. Their hatred is mediated by her helpfulness. Preventing horrors before they can occur does not gain the same attention as intervening during a crime can. Most of the work she does to protect people prevents them from ever even knowing they were in danger at all. It makes the pain lessen inside of her, though, and that’s enough.

Her life is small but manageable, and her heroic interventions dull the ache to a background buzz. Living in a small town keeps things easier, too: the one time she’s visited a big city she nearly fainted in the streets under the pressing pain of the thousands of lives around her just waiting to suffer or end. Lake Valley is easier, the suffering fewer and farther between. Life is tolerable. Sometimes even pleasant, if she’s lucky. She can handle it.

Then one day she wakes in the middle of the night and it’s like her soul is ripping from her body, gripping hard at her bones in its effort to stay. Her body breaks out into hives, she finds herself retching fruitlessly into the toilet. Every breath she takes feels damp, her lungs sloshing and stuttering around water that isn’t there. She’s drowning. The terror of it nearly consumes her - her fingertips feel raw like she’s been clawing at the walls to escape, her head aches like she’s bashed it against something hard. She’s felt people die before, hundreds of times, but she’s never felt it like this. Her gift screams within her body so loudly her jaw aches: Run. Go now. Find her. Save her.

Her feet are moving before her brain even tells them to do so, taking her into the kitchen until she has a knife in her hand. She didn’t mean to grab it, yet she knows she needs it. Out of her house she runs, racing down the country dirt road that takes her from her isolated cottage to the rest of town. The gift guides her till she’s on the paved road and racing across it, down the grassy hill until she sees it, there, sticking out of the water: the tail end of a compact car, its headlights shining up as it sinks.

Hurry. Save her now.

Carson splashes into the water, passively aware of the jagged rocks tearing at her skin - she hadn’t put shoes on, hadn’t had time - but all she can focus on is her grip on the door handle of the front seat. She tugs and it opens easily. The unconscious woman’s hand is still tangled around the handle on her side. She’d tried to open it, it seems, but couldn’t against the water’s pressure. The car is filled with water now, though, and the pressure is gone. If it were not for the pulsating panic exploding through Carson at the sight of her, she’d think the woman was already dead. Carson reaches around her and tugs at the seatbelt only to find it unyielding. Knife knife knife, the gift chants, and she slashes at the belt with frantic jagged swipes. Carson cuts the woman free and lets the knife fall with the sinking car. She focuses her hands on pulling her body out and away. Nausea roils in her as she drags her to shore, wave after wave of flickering pain as the woman gradually dies in her arms. Another car has pulled up she can see on the road. The taillights sinking deeper into the lake must have caught their eye, and Carson prays they are calling an ambulance now but she can’t stop to ask, not while she feels the woman die, and so instead she lays her on the grass and she presses on her chest and she breathes into her mouth and she feels a deep gnawing emptiness settling into her bones as the woman fades, and a death has never felt like this before. She’s never felt this emptiness before. And then the woman gasps out a mouthful of water and a euphoria Carson has never known floods her body. She rolls the woman onto her side as she throws up water and nearly collapses under the feel of it. Carson presses her head to the woman’s shoulder and cries. What devastation she’d felt this whole time has been flipped on its head with a rush of endorphins so powerful she trembles. Carson’s never felt joy before, not like this, not with someone else. The ambulance arrives soon after that. EMTs come to load the woman onto a stretcher and Carson stiltedly tells them what she knows. They’re not surprised to see her. Carson is often there at scenes like this, pulling people from the brink of death. They look at her like she’s something to be feared, to be respected, and all Carson can see is the woman she’s saved. She’s beautiful, Carson realizes, especially now that color is returning to her skin. Her red hair lays tangled and plastered against her face and around her oxygen mask, and all Carson wants is to brush it aside.

“We’ll take it from here, Miss Shaw,” the EMT says nervously as they begin to wheel her away, and every step they take from her pulls the ache back into her. It’s only when they’ve gotten a ways away that Carson realizes how the last few minutes of contact have felt for her. How the moment the woman came back to life, the pain of her gift went away. That’s never happened before. And now she feels that distance like a wound, and the panic sets in with it. “Wait!” she calls out as they load her onto the ambulance. “I’m coming with you.” They seem hesitant to let her but she doesn’t give them a chance, instead climbing aboard like she belongs there. Like she belongs with the woman. On instinct, she grabs the woman’s hand. Instantly the panic lessens, the pain. The world fades into just this moment, just the soft beat of a heart that had moments before been still.

“Do you know this woman?” they ask as they wrap her in a shock blanket. She’s soaked and shivering, though she hardly feels it. Yes, the gift aches within her. Yes yes yes.

“Not yet,” she says. “But I will.”

#I lost control of myself and wrote a lot lmao #I deleted my post being like 'send me prompts' because it had no notes and I was like oh damn what a flop #only to then check my inbox and see three prompts sitting there alndfoaiwefnkalef #so I may remake it but basically if you wanna send me vague non directive prompts I might write little things based on it #gretson #aloto fic #mine #my writing

31 notes · View notes

lightdancer1 · 6 months

Text

My takes on Melian and Luthien:

And ultimately Arwen, though this will get a second and a longer post.

I do think that there is a legitimate grounds in a modern audience reading Melian enchanting Elu Thingol into a trance for 200 years as something that would seem dodgy to us, though not necessarily to the same degrees in-universe.......though even then I tend to treat Melian as essentially the good mirror to Sauron and Saruman. They are all Maiar who took forms of flesh and became rulers within the world and I see Melian as essentially a close kin to Thuringwethil and a Maia whose power relies in what TV Tropes calls 'the Sacred Darkness.' Shadows are her strength and she embodies what the Dark and Night are meant to be without Morgoth's Old Night instilling fear.

In a relative 'power' ranking there's Ilmare-Eonwe-Mairon, all in equal power in different ways, Ilmare representing the light of the Maiar and of the stars and of the sacred aspects of Maiar power, Eonwe as the equivalent of the Archangel Gabriel and the messenger and empowered with the glory.....and Mairon as ultimately the great shapeshifter and the greatest mage, which is the snare Morgoth sets and why as that power grows Mairon in the Second and Third Age is relatively rather more powerful than Morgoth and ultimately the much greater danger.

Melian is the other great mage among the Ainur and it works in a very Aule-Melkor dualism. What Sauron does from pride and arrogance she does from love, and her relationship with Thingol is in no small part an aspect of where she has a very eldritch factor befitting how I portray the Ainur. Tolkien refers to them at times taking 'forms of their own thought, visible in majesty and in dread.' Melian is the singular case of an Ainu who takes shape akin to mortals and becomes very deeply interwoven with it, though as she is not Fallen she retains rather more of her power than her Fallen kin tend to and works within spheres rather than seeking dominion over them and in working within them has a tremendous amount of power that does not fade, but remains consistent.

So why does this matter? Because while the enchantment does have its aspects that make both Eldar and other Ainur uneasy, it works within the world and within the broader plan rather than against it. Elu Thingol is not an ensorceled figure, he has both free will (as is shown by his repeatedly both failing to consult his wife and ignoring her when he does) and he's open about the reality that if it was a mirror to what happened with Eol and Aredhel that he would have left as she did. It is a gesture, ultimately, of love and I tend to see Thingol as teaching Melian as much as she does him, and her students like Galadriel.

He teaches her of emotions and things that as an Ainu made manifest she does not entirely understand, and knowing what these things are and how they work in forms of flesh is a way that things become equal (and ultimately showing Thingol in both hypocrisy and growth as for all that he teaches things in the abstract applying them to himself in his own ways does not work out so well especially when it's foresight).

Luthien in turn, as the first of the Peredhil, has a specific gift with her song that it is a small portion, uncaged, of the Music of the Ainur. It is how she can sing Morgoth into a nap, and how she can cast down Sauron's fortress, and how she sings Mandos and Eru into restoring to her Beren's soul. And it is this that accounts for my particular take on Beren and Luthien and what makes Beren a soul worthy for Luthien to accept her fate. With her glimpse of the Song she has some inkling of what fate holds and as a mirror to my take on things with Arwen she balks at it for much of her life......and she lives in a gilded cage where her mother is beloved and she is seen as much as a prettier Wilbur Whateley as someone worthier of admiration.

Beautiful, yes, in an in-universe 'too beautiful and flawless' fashion. Her singing as a small portion of creation has a haunting effect that leaves strange impressions on those who see her. Melian might have her eldritch factors but everyone knows she's a Maia and while theory and practice differ in dealing with it they also know a Maia will be weird by Eldar standards.

And in this regard she is also very lonely as while others might be smitten with her she can see that they are smitten with the idea and exposure to the actual person curdles that. Enter Beren Erchamion, who sees all the weirdness and loves her unconditionally from the first, and is willing to venture into the belly of Hell for her without being deterred by all the things that chase away others.

And so when the choice comes round at last, it is not some great burden or what she expected of it, for while she and Artanis to a point can see the future they see it as through a mirror darkly, seeing events but not always their context and seldom with ideas of what it's like to actually live the visions until they're there.

#melian #luthien #arwen undomiel #sauron #maiar vs umaiar #Galadriel #beren and luthien

9 notes · View notes

wawamouse · 6 months

Text

Oz Rewatch 3: S1E01 & S1E02

I actually got my sister to rewatch these two episodes with me, just so I could get some fresh eyes on it, haha. My sister doesn’t really watch live action media outside of crime procedurals, but she makes constant guesses when watching anything, so I knew she’d have a lot of impressions on the characters.

Sister had nonstop guesses about things that were going to happen in episode one. While some were surprisingly right on the money, others were not;

Beecher

First impressions: “…This some white collar dude?”

Later, when Toby’s crime flashback started: “He’s a serial killer!” (car swerves on the scene) “He killed a child!” …I suppose anyone can be gifted with foresight if you just make enough guesses!

When episode 1 ended and I asked Sister what she thought so far, she did mention that she had originally assumed Beecher (identifier: “that one white guy”) was the main character. She was puzzled when Ortolani took center focus instead, which I found interesting. I feel like this is the opposite of what most people assume.

Ortolani

Perhaps the most impressive assumption Sister made in the entire episode was to ask, as Dino awoke at 6am: “Is he gonna die?”

I later asked her what she thought about Dino dying in episode 1: “Called it”. I asked her how she knew and she shrugged and said “he just seemed like he was gonna die”.

Ryan O’Reily

First impression: “He should put on some pants…” Later, she would continue to misidentify him as “the Menace” (“Mayhem”). Once she realized his name was O’Reily, she kept singing the O’Reilly Autoparts jingle.

Other remarks included: “maybe he’s an undercover cop”; “He’s probably gonna die from trying to make all these moves”; and (annoyed sigh) “He reminds me of [mildly annoying high school classmate]”

Schillinger

The fact that he was a nazi went right over her head for most of episode 1. She thought he was a C.O at first.

Later, when I also I tried to explain the concept of Em City to her (it was also going over her head), she said (full skepticism): “…[McManus] thinks J.K Simmons nazi guy is redeemable?”

However, midway through ep 1, when I asked her who her favorite character was, she answered "J.K Simmons, because he's the lion in Zootopia".

Stray thoughts from Sister:

(watching the episode 1 title sequence, seeing Groves’ brand) “Does that say ‘wow’ or ‘mom’?”

About Hill: “he’s an undercover cop” (this came after Hill’s line in the dress factory: “I hate cops”)

About Rebadow: For some reason, Sister was very set on the idea that Rebadow was a serial killer; “did he eat a bunch of children?” “Does he kill sinners?” “ Does he kill sinning children?” When at last I informed her no, Rebadow was not a religious serial killer, she then turned her attention on Beecher; “Oh he’s the serial killer”.

Much time was spent on trying to figure out who The Serial Killer was until I put my foot down and told her there was no serial killer (yet).

About the hacks: (dripping with sarcasm): “Wow… them cops are really doing a top job”; “I think it’s funny when they keep going ‘it’s out of our hands… we can’t do anything’…. like you guys are literally in charge of this place.”

Keane: “Post, you’re up. Go to the hole and wack that wop”; Sister: “I got no idea what he just said...”

Called Mukada “Mr Dinosaur Eggs” and would not stop comparing Alvarez’s responsibility for “bringing a life into this world” with “bringing dinosaurs into this world”

Had a continued conspiracy across episode 1 & 2 that Schillinger and Whittlesey were in cahoots/in a secret relationship

Thought Nino was Joe Pesci at first

Thought McManus was Mark Pellegrino at first

Thought Said was "weird" and "doing some weird kind of fetish play" (when he kept getting slapped)

"Kinda weird that she had a picnic basket....." (lots of judgement was passed on Genevieve's picnic basket and also her raw spaghetti)

Takeaways

Sister's favorite characters after the 2 first episodes were Jefferson Keane ("he has sad eyes") and Nino Schibetta ("he looks like the mole from Zootopia and he has sad eyes")

When asked if she would watch the third episode, she said "I guess... feels like they're just going to wrap up the trilogy, though.." (me: "you think there's only three episodes?"; Sister: "Uhh yeah. Seems like.")

My own takeaways after watching the two episodes back to back is that I like episode 2 more than episode 1, but that episode 1 still has a really nice dizzying feeling that becomes less and less prominent as the show goes on. It really set the vibe!

#text #oz hbo #oz rewatch

9 notes · View notes

most-datable-datable-bracket · 10 months

Note

Oh bless, we can do anti-propaganda

Sorry V, you're on the chopping block

- This man is so undatable, he's barely present in his own route or after end.

- V is also mentally unstable af. In other routes, not just bad ends, he also returns to HELP HIS GF DO CULT SHIT.

The only thing V should date is therapy, trust me people I played his route

#anti pollpraganda

32 notes · View notes

constance-michaela · 10 months

Text

The Seventh Chapter (of eight): The enabling telephone call

“Hi Tabs!”

“Your Grace?”

“How are you, you old bag?”

“Very well thank you, Your Grace. How are you, Lissy?”

“Likewise thank you, sweetie. I guess you’ll know why I’m telephoning, apart from the fact I miss you so?”

“Of course, Your Grace” Tabatha intoned, reassuringly.

Tabatha’s whole career, occupation depended on a number of key skills. Discretion of course and understanding. Assertiveness where necessary. But these and others would ‘come to nought’ without the ability to not only anticipate but also think ahead. Very deeply. Intuitively, too. Sympathetically. In tune. On message. ‘On the same page.’

“I know you are going to be without Amanda for over three months while she is enjoying her honeymoon with Tish … such a generous gift to them both, darling – so typical of you!” Tabatha continued. “So you are going to have no personal maid then – and I feel I can arrange to help you cover that period.”

“How?” asked the Marchioness, impressed as always by Tabatha’s foresight and innate understanding of her needs.

“There is a girl … I should say young lady, currently residing with her aunt in south London. Chantelle. I understand from her aunt that she’s ‘between finishing school and the next thing’ … trouble is, Auntie Edith doesn’t know what the next thing is going to be and she’s worried sick about it. You know me, I’ve already reassured Edith that I’m sure I can engineer a suitable arrangement in that I thought of you and your current needs.”

“Just like you always do, sweetie” replied the Marchioness. “You are an angel. Have you fucked Auntie Edith?”

“Of course.”

“You are such a complete tart! Please continue to explain.”

“Well Your Grace, we both also know you urgently need a business manager, you need to delegate and we thought Tish could fit the role, so she can be based at your shire estate and Amanda must of course remain your Maid, otherwise she would not have accepted Tish’s proposal of marriage.”

“Tish will be fine – especially as she’s so inexperienced! – excuse me if I jest a little! … she’s up for it … as if she had much choice!”

“OK Lissy, we can get Tish trained up a bit … two weeks with my accountant should do the trick.”

“Fine! Thank you. Have you met this Chantelle?”

“Only once and not since a garden party hosted by her aunt a couple of years ago. I really liked Chantelle, so easy to get on with, I loved talking with her, I remember. She was beautifully dressed and bless her sweet innocence! … absolutely no idea her petticoat was showing! I didn’t say anything, of course. So pretty, fair hair, blue eyes … such an unusual sky blue … clear skin … slightly upturned nose, so not a perfect beauty some would think … but a lovely figure and a nice rack, about 34C I’d say. Similar height to us.”

“I have two questions for you please, Tabs. Does she have a …” … the Marchioness paused as if struggling to utter an expression she found most distasteful … “a young man?”

“Absolutely not, Your Grace! She is of, so to speak our faith and following. My other enquiries have indicated Chantelle was quite promiscuous at school and Edith confirmed my intelligence that she’d been sent back to her for a month, suspended from school because she’d fucked the deputy headmistress. Such a shame, it was the woman’s first senior appointment. Obviously, she was sacked and I hear she is working as a lesbian prostitute in King’s Cross these days.”

“OK … all good … so far … you’re so wonderful, Tabs! My other question: is Chantelle a commoner, not titled or any posh, pretentious shit like that? I don’t want to get involved with some fucking stuck-up tart with ideas above her station!”

“She’s fine, Your Grace. Truly. Wealthy, of course. Educated? A bit. Further education? ‘Out of the question’ Edith told me. Which is why she needs to find a permanent situation, or work in a fucking shop somewhere.”

“Or head to King’s Cross!” joked the Marchioness. “Please excuse my levity, Tabs … I know you’re trying to help me. I love you, you bitch!”

“I love you too, you hussy! I’ve sort of scoped out where you’re up to with Edith, Your Grace. She’s fine with it. Really. I also think that what with everything else, Tish could do with a maid herself … other than her fiancée! When Tish and Amanda return from honeymoon in due course, might this Chantelle take that role?”

“You won’t believe me if I say my own thoughts have followed a similar path, Tabs because you always think ahead … I don’t try and keep up! But if this can all work, it would be perfect!”

“Would you like to interview Chantelle? Tabatha enquired, knowing perfectly well how Her Grace would respond. As it turned out, far more quietly than Tabatha expected, but with the same predictable response: No.

“Tabatha … sweetie! … Tabs … my darling! Of course I don’t want to fucking interview her! You know I’m no judge of character, that’s why I love you so! I just want you to arrange for the right female to turn up at the right time, as if by magic, like you do … please Tabs?”

“Certainly, Your Grace. I’ll attend to it directly. I’m confident this will all be sorted and in place by the weekend.”

“Thank you Tabatha, I know I can always rely on you. I take it you are wearing a slip?”

“Of course, Your Grace. May I enquire if you are dressed likewise?”

“I’m wearing two, Tabatha. I wanted to really dress up to make this telephone call to you. I like to think I can make myself look like a prostitute if I want to. Before I sat down, I studied my appearance in front of my full length mirror, you know the one by the bed to check that my petticoat is showing, so that I look and feel like a slut while I’m talking to you.”

“Your Grace is making me wet.”

“When we’ve finished this call in due course, I’m going to take off my dress and go to bed for the rest of the afternoon with my vibrator. I know you still think of me sometimes when you are using yours.”

“I do indeed, Your Grace.”

“Now we’re both getting wet!” whispered the Marchioness. “What else are we both up to? How’s Belgravia, sweetie?”

“It’s still there.”

“What the fuck does that mean, Tabs?” demanded the Marchioness.

"Well, I’m in Bayswater these days, Your Grace. My accountant told me it’s the ground rent that was killing it and that I couldn’t afford to continue paying that out of my capital. I got a right fucking lecture from her on how allowing expenditure to consistently exceed income is the road to financial ruin!”

“Fuck!” exclaimed the Marchioness. “Fucking hell! I had no idea! Why didn’t you let me know about this shit? You know I’d have helped you. It must have been so stressful for you! To lose your home. Oh sweetie!”

“Oh, you are most kind Your Grace but I can’t expect you to do everything for me, to fund me. Besides, Bayswater is so ‘aspirational’ these days compared with say, Hammersmith or Enfield and so many other London boroughs and also so handy for Paddington railway station … for my train to visit you, Lissy! I know how busy you are, didn’t want to trouble you!”

“Well, I’m fucking troubled now, Tabatha! Cheers mate! I need you to operate from Belgravia, where the money is and the shit is all happening. Bayswater’s lovely enough for most people, green and leafy and can be so quiet and private too … but you and I are not most people! I’m going to really worry you now and say I’ve just thought of a plan … we’ll come to this accountant of yours in a moment … why don’t we get the lovely Tish to sort this out while she’s on honeymoon? God knows she can’t fuck Amanda ‘twenty-four by seven’ and she would benefit from having this project to do … I won’t tease you by saying ‘to sort out your shit’ … seriously, Amanda can also help her with the spade work. Arranging agent’s appointments, progressing this along, keeping notes and all that sort of crap! What with telephones, let alone the internet this can be arranged from anywhere!”

“You astonish me, Your Grace. Thank you” replied Tabatha. “Might I add I am also impressed by Your Grace’s ability to think and formulate a complex project ‘on the hoof’ so to speak!”

“I love it when you take the fucking piss like that, you filthy whore! Thank god you do though, because if we aristocrats didn’t get abused like this from time to time, we’d become quite unbearable!”

“Thank you again, Your Grace. Might I ask if you would be happy to direct Tish in this matter, please?”

“Now you really are trying me hard, you tart! Seriously, of course I shall! You can hardly direct Tish to find you a new home! Thinking ahead as well, I’m sure we can sort out this type of ground rent issue. Have a fresh look at who is shagging whom round there … you get me?”

“I understand, Your Grace.”

“This accountant, then: what’s the story?”

“I met her at a cocktail party. We both discovered a mutual need.”

“You mean you fucked her? You tart!”

“No … well … not straight away … no, what it was is I knew I was approaching hock and she needed the work.”

“Then what?”

“I visited her at her office in Stepney and agreed what she should provide. I got a proper written quotation for her professional financial and accounting services at a fair price, I believe.

“And then you fucked her?”

“No, I fucked her first.”

“Tabatha! You naughty girl! Did she fuck you back?”

“Yes.”

“Brilliant! All this without a thought or care for me, I daresay?”

“You’re embarrassing me, Lissy … you know I love you … and I always will.”

“I love you too … I love teasing you … I can hear you blush, you tart!”

“We moved in together in Bayswater. Upmarket for her, down market for me.”

“Fucking hell! That’s sweet! So you now want a swish new home in Belgravia for yourself and your accountant, you cheeky bitch! Of course you shall! ‘Noblesse oblige!’ It’s the right thing for me to do …so right for both of us … all of us, for heaven’s sake! Shall you marry her?”

“Your Grace! I don’t know what to say!”

“Tell Lissy!”

“I should like to … I love her, Lissy. I love you too … but this is different now. I’m sure Your Grace and Lissy both understand … I hope so.

“I understand” said the Marchioness quietly and tenderly. “Tabatha, there is a saying that ‘If everything around here is going to stay the same, then a lot of things are going to have to change’ and that’s so true of your life, my life and the life of everyone around us right now. Your accountant. Chantelle, she’s got change coming her way unless she really fucks up somehow. Tish. Amanda … Amanda, finding her was one of the most wonderful things you ever did for me and may I say possibly the pinnacle of your career. If this Chantelle …

“I understand, Your Grace. Everything will be all right. I promise.”

“What’s your accountant called?”

“Elaine.”

“What a lovely name! So pretty!”

“I’m hoping to propose to her soon. I think we both want that and sense the proposal should come from me.

“Oh sweetie! Why don’t you both take some holiday and come and stay with us? You could stay in ‘Gamekeepers Cottage’ now that housekeeping have got it up to speed. Excuse me saying this, but you could even propose to her there!”

“I am overcome by your kindness and generosity, Your Grace. We would love to.”

“I promise I will not make any advances to either of you of a sexual nature. We aristocrats do have some standards you know, even in these liberal times!”

“Your Grace.”

“Tabatha. When would you like me to telephone you again, darling?”

“Would early Saturday afternoon be convenient for Your Grace? I’ll be properly dressed as always!”

“Fine. Doesn’t time fly! We must as ever tell one another to ‘Fuck Off!’ and end the call.

“Good-bye for now, Your Grace. Please feel free to telephone me any time beforehand should you wish.”

“Good-bye, Tabatha. I do, of course. Take care, sweetie.”

#girls who like girls #lesbian #girls who love girls #girls with girls #women's clothes #women's underwear #women's petticoats #girls kissing girls #lesbian kissing #sapphic

8 notes · View notes

esta-elavaris · 2 months

Note

♻️🤔&❤️

♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP

Sybil wasn't originally going to be a modern girl - she was going to be a bonafide Middle-earther who actually did have some sort of gift of foresight, but it seemed too overpowered, and there'd need to be an actually good lore explanation for it, which actually seemed more far-fetched than amnesiac modern girl, if I didn't want her to have some sort of hidden wild lineage 🫠

I was worried that it'd be too same-y considering I'd just finished CTW, but lovely folk on here eased that worry pretty damn quick! Plus the memory detail really changes the game, with the whole "when will she get her memory back? What will/won't she remember?" aspect is so, SO much fun. Especially considering when that does happen, she'll have to reconcile her memories of who she used to be with who she's become over the last decade, which is so, so much fun. For me. Not for her.

🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

Dracula from Van Helsing (2004) this mf kickstarted my gothy awakening when I was in primary school.

A very brief Tormund Giantsbane/Theodora thing has been gnawing at my mind this week, too.

❤️Not a question, just a second kudos to send.

💜💜💜

ALL OF MY LOVE THANK YOU

#asks #ask game

4 notes · View notes

shiftingdiariesofophelia · 1 year

Text

guys i wanna talk about religion in my hp DR.

so, i have been working on my script for way too long at this point. but one of the things i decided early on was my own religious practices. i, in my current/original reality, do not practice any religion and define myself as agnostic. but in my DR, i have scripted in a religion that i both understand and follow. now, this may be weird for some of you, but i’ve always been a person of science and logic. i can’t just blindly follow a god or deity or anything. but i’ve always loved the outsider idea of religion. that there are people who have faith, wholly and truly, in something other than themselves. so, as a way to experience this for myself, i have scripted the Greek pantheon into my DR. this way, i KNOW that my gods are real. there is no doubt in my faith, as it is not blind faith. and i don’t know if anyone else is interested in it, but i’m gonna explain it here.

so, essentially- different religions/practices/etc. have their own forms of magic, as i’ve discussed here previously. the Wizard/Witch practice of magic stems from Grecian ideas. magic was a gift to select humans from the gods thousands of years ago. these groups of humans went on to form the bigger wizarding families that have become infamous. The Blacks, the Dumbledores, the Potters, etc. the way that this practice works in my DR is a little strange. not all wizards or witches practice religion, and not all believe in it. that is okay. they are not punished by these gods for their lack of faith. if someone chooses to practice religion, they will need to choose a patron/patroness as a main form of worship. now, they can make offerings and such to any of the gods at any time, but your patron god is meant to represent your goals or who you are as a person. they’re sort of who you identify the most with. they are your connection between the body and the spirit.

i myself follow the teachings and have chosen Hecate as my patron goddess. Hecate, goddess of magic, witchcraft, the moon, the night, ghosts and necromancy. despite being the literal embodiment of magic, she is actually one of the rarer gods to have as your patron. a lot of people become selfish or think too much when choosing a patron and choose something for petty reasons. they want to defeat their enemies, so they’ll choose Ares or Athena. they want power unimaginable, they’ll choose Zeus or Hades. but there’s something so delicate and personal about paying homage to Hecate, the first Witch, that is so special to me. Hecate is the daughter of titans, but she is not siblings to Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, Demeter or Hera. her parents were Perses and Asteria. she was born a titaness, but made a god after the fall of Kronos. she is rather separate from the rest of the gods, and does not attend Olympus as much as the others. she is a goddess of crossroads, and her torches light the way for anyone who cares enough to ask for her help. Hecate specifically is the one who blessed me with magic, as I am muggle-born, and has also given me the gift of foresight. Foresight being different from prophecy- prophecy is vague, like an idea of something. Prophecy is what Trelawny had been blessed with. Foresight is actually watching something unfold in front of you. Either present, future, or past. Hecate, of all gods, tends to feel the most for mortals. she is sympathetic to us in a way that the other gods can not comprehend. she is an eternal maiden goddess, and tends to answer young women more than anyone else, she even answers more to women who are no longer maidens than men. i could go on and on about her. i’m so glad to have her as my patroness.

a lot of the major wizarding families were originally given magic by one of the gods, and it’s become commonplace for purebloods to choose that original god as their patron. so, for example, the House of Black has always worshiped Hades. the idea that they are favorable to the god of the underworld is reassuring to them when practicing the dark arts. they also tend to make offerings to Thanatos, so they may have death itself on their side. other wizarding families have different patrons too, some more loosely practice than others. the Dumbledores, Zeus, the king god, god of the sky, and of lighting. Powerful and knowing, designed to be great leaders. the Weasleys keep to Hestia, the goddess of the hearth, the family, the home, and domesticity. the Malfoys (Lucius’ side) have kept to Ares, god of war, violence, bloodshed, and courage. which is ironic, given Lucius’ knack for being a pushover. the Longbottoms have had a long history with the minor god Pan, the god of nature, the wilds, shepherds, flocks, and even has connections to fertility and springtime. and the Potters tended to worship Apollo, the god of Oracles, sunlight, knowledge, healing, music and arts, athleticism, and protection of the young. not every member of a family practices, and some are more devout than others. but all of us were given magic by one of the gods, major or minor. and the oldest wizarding families are no exception. they just happened to be among the first of our kind.

i would also like to reiterate: these are not *exactly* the same as this reality’s Greek pantheon. these gods in my DR are much more forgiving, much more lenient, and don’t interact with mortals very much as they do in our mythology. sure, they may bestow blessings and guide those whom have chosen them as their patron, but the gods do not interfere with mortal affairs so much so that they play a crucial role in events. wars between mortals will remain between mortals. the gods are simply there to observe.

#reality shifting #shifting #shifttok #desired reality #shiftblr #harry potter dr #hp shifting #hogwarts dr #current reality

9 notes · View notes