#the way a sailor can taste a storm on the wind | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

monkeydluffy19920 · 1 year

Note

Is Nami a mermaid? The evidence includes: An original drawing by Luffy of Nami as a mermaid. Her name means wave in Japanese. Shirahoshi instantly liked her. Nami understands the ocean even without any formal training. She’s Swedish (this is important because Scandinavian mermaids warn sailors of storms and danger). Her past is completely unknown. Also, she has constantly worn those two circles on her skirt and pants that we see the mer guards wear

Hiya Nonny and thanks for the ask :)

First of all, amazing background work made there! It took some time for me to do some as well so sorry for the delay but let’s move forward to the ponders whether Nami could be a mermaid.

This post will most likely be long since there are lots of interesting themes to talk about so here we go! :)

Mermaids in (Scandinavian) mythology

Ok first the basics, mermaid is a mythical sea creature with the head and trunk of a woman and the tail of a fish, conventionally depicted as beautiful and with long flowing golden hair [x].

Since you Nonny made a good point about Oda-sensei picking Nami’s nationality to be swedish so I will (try to) focus on scandinavian folklores in this post. By the way, if you dear reader are native Swede and know more about the folklore please let me know, I’m completely leaning on Google at the moment *laughs*

Anyway, in Sweden Mermaids are called Havsfru and they are believed to be seen in the open ocean, living peacefully with other creatures that live in the oceans. According to the legends, the sailors that meet mermaids usually give little sacrifices such as small coins, food or warm pieces of clothes in winter in order to honor them and as an exchange, the Havsfrus repay the kind gestures with either sharing weather information (i.e warning for approaching storms, or good winds, like you Nonny said) or warn them about icebergs etc.

Mermaids can take different figures, an indescribable beautiful lady (like Sanji dreams of) with the tail of a fish tails and sometimes they move with legs. Also according to the folklore, mermaids can also transform into another sea creature.

Transformation is something we saw in Water 7 when Oda made a plot twist and made Kokoro saved Zoro and the others from a huge wave:

In European mythologies, all kinds of tales have given mermaid a very variant imagos. Sometimes they were portrayed as beautiful and seductive maidens who were greatly desired by lonely sailors whereas they also were sometimes portrayed as siren-esque beasts that dragged men into the inky-black depths.

Also in swedish folklore, the continuation of your travel depended on the way you treated the mermaids. If you refused their requests, you surely got to taste the wrath power of hers and you’d end up deep down to the sea with your sunken ship. If you were nice and did what she asked, you would get rewarded.

If we think about this mythology and compare it to Nami’s appearence, we indeed can see some similarities in her and mermaids’ characteristics. First of all, she now also has long wavy hair Sanji imagined her to have before the time skip (frankly spoken that mermaid Sanji mentions back then indeed looks a lot like Nami, especially in colored version, not only the hair but the earrings and stuff) but again it can all be coincidence.

We can reminisce the she still worked for Arlong she was sneaky and used her cute appearence to fool other pirates (just like mermaids lured sailors) in order to rob them and also she charmed Sanji to get away with paying the food in Baratie.

Now that One Piece has gone further with Time Skip and stuff Nami hasn’t used her looks so much to fool the enemies. I think there are various reasons for this, first of all back then she worked all alone. So she needed always to be one step ahead of the game if she wanted to steal the gold and stuff.

Now she is a part of a pirate group which means she can always lean on her crew mates and second important reason is that her fighting skills have been improved a lot. She started with a (portable?) stick-kind of weapon which wasn’t quite strong but enough for her to get away just in case.

Now she has a clima-tact that has been upgraded ever since it was introduced the first time and now we can say that now she really is strong enough to fight so she won’t end up in such trouble first hand.

Last one thing why Nami doesn’t use her looks is that she simply doesn’t have to. She collected money to save the her home village from Arlong but now that Arlong is out of the game she can be more relaxed. One of her life goals was achieved. Also, she is now a part of a pirate group. Her main occupation is being a navigator.

Despite that she is still proven to be a quick and excellent thief. She freaking robbed a whole village while bidding them goodbye at Cocoyashi *laughs* She keeps her thief-skills still updated because she snatches important things every once in a while.

The point is, stealing money etc. isn’t a must anymore for Nami. Like a thing which her life depends on, it’s nowadays more like a “hobby”. Also now it’s easier to steal stuff vs. when she was alone so no more need to fool the others with body and so on.

Ok then about the other thing, at least from the comical aspect the travel indeed depends on Nami’s mood. I mean not only hers but if she is in a bad mood, she isn’t shy to show it.

No matter canon or filler one of the running gags is that Nami hits people to make them behave or stop the idiocy. This we learned very well before Skypiea when she was literally so pissed off because they became laughing stocks at Jaya.

Nami indeed is a great strategist ad negotiator, I mean she even got Zeus to turn against Big Mom. Let’s not forget that Zeus was made of Big Mom’s soul so a literal yonko soul is scared of a random pirate. That is something incredible.

But let’s not forget Nami does have a soft side too. Despite her greediness is huge running gag she did give away some treasure back in Thriller Bark which was a big moment of confusion for Luffy and Usopp.

Not only this but also in general Nami "repays" the good deeds which means she is thankful for everything Straw Hats done for her and gives back too. She might give chills if things are not in order (as a comical relief though) but she deeply cares about her nakama and is very protective of them.

For example it was her who felt the most openly distress when things start to fall apart in Water 7 and even tried to fix things by reasoning her mates. Then back in WCI she drove forward the retrieval team and showed constant worry about her missing nakama.

Let's not forget that Nami was also ready to save random kids at Punk Hazard (since she herself experienced a miserable childhood after Bellmere died she could somehow relate to the childrens' pain although they didn't know for a long time) so it really speaks for the fact that she is far from selfish.

We must not also forget that although her element is air, she also enjoys swimming a lot. That alone doesn't make her the mermaid but I have to say it's an interesting coincidence Nami was chosen to be a mermaid in one of that One Piece Straw Hat Theater-episode where Straw Hats were mythological creatures.

This was part of Oda's One Piece Omake-series so even though it was "fictional" and "spin off"-styled, I partly wonder Oda picked the mermaid-role for her on purpose.

Nami's unknown past

So, like Nonny said, we know just a little scratch of Nami’s past. She first met her foster mother Bellmere in Oykot where the Marines went to save the kingdom that was battling for some unknown reason. Then later she adopted little Nami and Nojiko and raised them in Cocoyashi Village.

There is basically nothing told about this place named Oykot (which is Tokyo backwards) but somehow it’s almost 50% safe to expect that Oda-sensei somehow returns to this topic and perhaps even reveals more about Nami’s origins (because things have been connected earlier too and everything seem to have a meaning when it comes down to the main characters, the Straw Hats and their character growths).

Like mentioned in this post, what puzzles me the most in this flashback in chapter 77 is the smile of hers. Also Nojiko is pretty much a “wild card” when it comes down to Nami’s past. Why?

Because when Bellemeré asks Nojiko claims that they are not blood related siblings. However she carries Nami around the rainy battlefield so it kind of gives the vibes that they might know each other but I don’t know enough to tell whether it’s normal to carry a stranger in your arms as a kid in middle of a battlefield.

Nojiko and Nami do look alike, maybe it’s Oda’s way to draw but this could indicate that they could actually be (distant) relatives?

She understands the ocean

So, in the folklore-part was talked, mermaids had some sort of ability to predict the weather and they'd share the information to the men of the seas. Nami's one most significant skill is related strongly to the weather (and linked to the ocean) this is something for example Vivi brought up back in Grand Line.

It's an amazing skill, no one knows where she has inherited it (like from books or just going by gut-feeling?) but she has honed it in Weatheria and even if she wasn't a mermaid, her skills are still beyond amazing!!

Friendship with Shirahoshi

Nami and Shirahoshi befriended quickly back in Fishman Island. Hard to say what was the "ice breaker" but mysteriously Nami replies her compliment with: "I guess we have some things in common".

This could be interpreted in many ways but somehow I have the feeling Nami is relating to the similarities in their pasts: both were under the influence Fish Men (and literally trapped by them) and lost their mothers tragically. They are also both emotional too. Would be interesting though if Shirahoshi would be the only one to sense Nami's mermaidness and at thait point these panels could become foreshadowing:

She has constantly worn those two circles on her skirt and pants that we see the mer guards wear

Frankly spoken, I've never paid attention to this detail so this is a great catch, Nonny!!!

There might not be info about who has created one of Nami's favorite clothing brand (which seems to be the one with the two circles-style since she wears it a lot in different forms) but perhaps it has taken influence on Fishman Island?

An original drawing by Luffy of Nami as a mermaid.

So, Luffy drew a “mermaid” version of Nami inspired by Sanji’s thoughts by basically adding hair and eyelashes to his sketch of fish-man. That could be another great foreshadow from Oda for sure but at least we know one thing. Oda is great with details and loves hiding easter eggs and atcually in chapter 262, Luffy’s drawing can be found too "alive"!

All in all, the conclusion of this post is, I really find this theory interesting although I can't say for sure whether there could be possibility that Nami is secretly a mermaid but it would require another arc for her.

Nami basically had already one main arc but now to think about, this could be a huge plot twist just like Sanji had, another arc that explained basically everything I mean.

So, who knows, anything can happen in the story of One Piece!

#one piece #nami #cat burglar nami #dorobo neko nami #long post #answered #thanks #anon #ponders #analysis #theory #//got carried away *laughs*#//sorry for the wait!#//but thanks also! Theories and headcanons are fun to ponder #mermaids #mythology

33 notes · View notes

agentrouka-blog · 2 years

Note

It is interesting that Maqoro refered the Drowned God as the demon, which begs a question what kinda Eldrich abomonation is gonna come out of the sea when Euron does his bloodsacrfice?

If he's anything like Dany, he'll have a bunch of vicious baby krakens in a bucket still waiting to grow up. "Feed us, father! The blood of innocents, please!"

But Euron isn’t sacrificing to the Drowned God. He is practicing blood magic, which is universal in its appeal.

Watch me derail my response to a different subject: the fake duality of the gods, and of ice and fire. (Long post.)

GRRM likes to remind us occasionally that the gods aren’t solid and separate.

In the sept they sing for the Mother's mercy but on the walls it's the Warrior they pray to, and all in silence. She remembered how Septa Mordane used to tell them that the Warrior and the Mother were only two faces of the same great god. But if there is only one, whose prayers will be heard? (ACOK, Sansa V)

Catelyn calls them “the seven faces of god”. God, singular.

“One god with seven aspects” Septon Meribald calls it.

"Seven? No. He has faces beyond count, little one, as many faces as there are stars in the sky. In Braavos, men worship as they will . . . but at the end of every road stands Him of Many Faces, waiting. (AFFC, Arya I)

One god: death.

The struggle is not between the god of death and the god of life, but how humans deal with loss and grief, or with the desire for power, in a world where the door between life and death is more permeable than it should be.

The other whores said that the Sailor's Wife visited the Isle of the Gods on the days when her flower was in bloom, and knew all the gods who lived there, even the ones that Braavos had forgotten. They said she went to pray for her first husband, her true husband, who had been lost at sea when she was a girl no older than Lanna. "She thinks that if she finds the right god, maybe he will send the winds and blow her old love back to her," said one-eyed Yna, who had known her longest, "but I pray it never happens. Her love is dead, I could taste that in her blood. If he ever should come back to her, it will be a corpse." (AFFC, Cat of the Canals)

Shades of Dany and Drogo “When will he be as he was?” Shades of blood magic. Only death can pay for life.

That’s a door that should never be opened. But it is. Again and again it is.

But death never buys life. It only ever buys horror. Horror and power.

I have very few concrete ideas about what exactly Euron’s kind of magic is meant to summon. But true to the above, GRRM makes sure we know that the Drowned God and R’hllor are essentially mirrors. Or, if you will, the exact same thing.

Their god was Red R’hllor, and a jealous god he was. Her own god, the Drowned God of the Iron Isles, was a demon to their eyes, and if she did not embrace this Lord of Light, she would be damned and doomed. They would as gladly burn me as those logs and broken branches. (ADWD, The King’s Prize)

“Your Drowned God is a demon,” the black priest Moqorro said afterward. “He is no more than a thrall of the Other, the dark god whose name must not be spoken.” (ADWD, Victarion I)

Demons hungry for sacrifice, both.

The Drowned God also mirrors the special duality of R’hllor.

In their theology, the Drowned God is opposed by the Storm God, a malignant deity who dwells in the sky and hates men and all their works. He sends cruel winds, lashing rains, and the thunder and lightning that bespeak his endless wroth. (The World of Ice and Fire - The Iron Islands)

On one side is R'hllor, the Lord of Light, the Heart of Fire, the God of Flame and Shadow. Against him stands the Great Other whose name may not be spoken, the Lord of Darkness, the Soul of Ice, the God of Night and Terror. Ours is not a choice between Baratheon and Lannister, between Greyjoy and Stark. It is death we choose, or life. Darkness, or light." (ASOS, Davos III)

Both work the same way. They are two faces of the same hungry abyss.

Significantly, Dany didn’t sacrifice her blood magic victims to any particular god in order to gain the dragons. She did not chant, she did not call on any deity. The presence of the eggs alone, coupled with her intentions, seems to have been enough.

It is blood magic, not fire magic. Or water magic. Or ice magic. Blood, always blood.

In that, Dany is very similar to Euron. Neither care for the gods in particular, but they understand the mechanics of trading life for death.

“All gods are lies, but yours is laughable.” (...)

"The Crow's Eye has fed your Drowned God well, and he has grown fat with sacrifice. Words are wind, but blood is power. We have given thousands to the sea, and he has given us victories!" (TWOW, The Forsaken)

Both call themselves the storm(born) and liken themselves to gods or godliness.

And how did Dany feel when she stood, godlike, atop the pyramid? Lonely.

Are the gods lonely, though?

He saw his brother on the Iron Throne again, but Euron was no longer human. He seemed more squid than man, a monster fathered by a kraken of the deep, his face a mass of writhing tentacles. Beside him stood a shadow in woman's form, long and tall and terrible, her hands alive with pale white fire. Dwarves capered for their amusement, male and female, naked and misshapen, locked in carnal embrace, biting and tearing at each other as Euron and his mate laughed and laughed and laughed... (TWOW The Forsaken)

What is this, but a mockery of the entire concept of duelling gods? They aren’t at war, they are reigning together, watching the carnage commited in their name with inhuman hilarity.

They are in on it together. They are the same.

Given the theme of a fake duality, perhaps, on a deeper level, ice and fire are also the same. Two faces of the same coin. Two masks of the same inhumane hungry energy.

Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice.

Both are death. Eternal winter, eternal summer. All just means the end of the world. Different roads lead to the same castle.

@fedonciadale gave me a bit of a brain tweak with this line in a chat:

“I just think that the Ice magic that the CotF woke enabled the Fire magic. So, first we have Ice magic that is warped Cotf magic and the scales are tipped and Fire magic is made possible.“ (...) And I think "awakening the Fire magic" at Summerhall - which is different than just continuing to have dragons - was the action that awoke the Others

There is clearly a connection and a reciprocal relationship between the various kinds of magic in the ASOIAF world. It might just not be as fully dualistic as this, but again different faces on one coin.

When the door is open, the door is open for all. Just in changeable forms.

The dragons don’t like the cold, the Others shatter from obsidian. But if they are both only products of blood magic, they are only tools at the disposition of those who summoned them, and their disparate interests. Like the gods, they only seem mutually opposed, while they spring from the same source.

That might be the reason that both Others and dragons and Melisandre’s magic and glass candles and Euron can happen at the same time, all with disconnected motivations. They all amplify each other to an extent.

It’s possible and even likely that something led to the current escalation of magical destruction, but I can’t properly guess what.

Jaqen emphasizes a transactional aspect between life and death:

"The Red God has his due, sweet girl, and only death may pay for life. This girl took three that were his. This girl must give three in their places. Speak the names, and a man will do the rest." (ACOK, Arya VII)

He doesn’t say what will happen if that exchange is disturbed. Maybe nothing. Maybe the Curse of Garin. Maybe the Doom of Valyria.

Whatever originally opened the doorway between life and death that enabled these exchanges of blood and life for power, is the true problem.

Whatever prompted it then and now, in the North, a full-on apocalypse is already slowly underway. The Others bring the cold, they enslave the dead, all life flees before them, or joins them in death. Clearly, something powerful went into creating them. This dark magic attracted more dark magic. Stannis and his blood sacrificing priestess cannot hope to defeat the Others, perhaps they are even helping make it worse.

In the South, something similar may begin gather, bought with blood magic. Perhaps Euron is simply waiting for someone with powerful enough blood to come along and be of use to him.

The different kinds of magic cannot defeat each other.

In order to end all of it, the door needs to be closed.

#euron greyjoy #anti daenerys targaryen #blood magic #fire threat #ice threat #religion in asoiaf #drowned god #r'hllor #false dichotomy

77 notes · View notes

waitingforwinterwinds · 1 year

Text

ASOS; Steel and Snow: 05 DAVOS I (pages 67-74)

After a long time surviving on a rocky spire in the ocean, Davos sees a ship head his way, he crams some PTSD and Religious Crisis into his survivors guilt-trip before they get close enough for him to call out.

Holy shit this chapter is short but potent. I normally make my commentary as I read, which means it takes... a while to get through each chapter, but this one grabbed me and took off running.

I don't know exactly what GRRM did, or if it's just because I adore Davos and there's been that lingering worry in the back of my mind since his last chapter, but I just didn't want to pause for observations.

Davos was a sailor; he was meant to die at sea. The gods beneath the waters have been waiting for me, he told himself. It's past time I went to them. ... Why should I live? he thought as tears blurred his vision. Gods be good, why? My sons are dead, Dale and Allard, Maric and Matthos, perhaps even Devan as well. How can a father outlive so many strong young sons? How would I go on? I am a hollow shell, the crab's died, there's nothing left inside. Don't they know that?

Davos did so amazing though, surviving on a tall spit of rock for... what, weeks? at least one week. Drinking rain water from hollows in the rock, eating smashed crabs raw, even when his mind was saying give up, he kept going.

Davos is clearly feeling a lot of guilt, for his sons dying, for not dying with them, and he's experiencing such dark and heavy headspace right now, that he keeps fighting, even if it doesn't seem like it, like he's just not dying, it's amazing.

I couldn't do it in his situation.

But now there was a sail; only a speck on the horizon, but growing larger. A ship where no ship should be. He knew where this rock lay, more or less; it was one of a series of sea monts that rose rom the floor of Blackwater Bay. The tallest of them jutted a hundred feet above the tide, and a dozen lesser monts stood thirty to sixty feet high. Sailors called them spears of the merling king, and knew that for every one that broke the surface, a dozen lurked treachorously just below it. Any captain with sense kept his course well away from them. Davos watched the sail swell through pale red-rimmed eyes, and tried to hear the sound of the wind caught in the canvas. She is coming this way.

You know, up until Davos recognized the ship as one of Salladhor Saan's, I was half expecting Melisandre to be on board and coming specifically to pick Davos up.

Just, partly because I just kind of thought she might, but also because this chapter has the reoccurring theme of the fire and what Davos has lost to it, and his part in Melisandre's "blasphemy" re: the burning of the effigies of the seven and rowing her into Storm's End for shadow baby birth.

Actually, going back to Davos's last chapter at the battle, I read a line about them intentionally leaving her behind because any victory they earned would be attributed to her and her magics and not Stannis, and my first thought was: "they're going to wish she'd come along" which was in poor taste, but also I don't know if Melisandre can actually command wildfire, never-mind that much of it.

But no, her hull was striped. She was Lysene, she was Sallador Saan's. The Mother sent her here, the Mother in her mercy. She had a task for him. Stannis lives, he knew then. I have a king still. And sons, I have other sons, and a wife loyal and loving. How could he have forgotten? The Mother was merciful indeed.

And this moment, where he remembers/realises that for all he lost he hasn't lost everything. It's like seeing the sun come out after storms and flood. Rekindled hope and a real will to live, not just the stubbornness and refusal to die.

Like, he's obviously going to have lasting trauma, my man need so much therapy, but him having things to live for, and people to support him is going to be so much of the effort.

Also:

When he opened his mouth to scream, the water came rushing in, tasting of salt, and Davos Seaworth knew that he was drowning. The next he knew the sun was up, and he lay upon a stony strand beneath a spire of naked stone, with the empty bay all around and a broken mast, a burned sail, and a swollen corpse beside him.

Davos is Azor Ahai confirmed... I should start a new game for how many people we can "realistically" confirm as Azor Ahai before the One True AA is revealed.

So here's what I'm thinking happened. Either:

A) The snag Davos felt earlier was some part of that debris pile (temporarily submerged by the currents and eddies of the river or maybe bonked down by the stuff on fire,) catching him and tugging him along and out to the spears while his was insensate, he actually managed to surface and flop onto the mast and get the water out of his lungs but he was too out of it to register it. (unlikely option, but sort of plausible)

B) The ocean and aquatic gods kicked him back out because they knew that Davos would easily become the king of all water gods if allowed to die at sea. (definitely what happened here. most likely option.)

#a storm of swords #steel and snow #a song of ice and fire #davos seaworth #a chapter a day reading #asos #asoiaf

5 notes · View notes

better-name-for-rp-blog · 1 year

Text

What would a siren tempt you with?

Pleasures of the Flesh

The siren calls to you, "O' my sailor, how I yearn for you. Come down to me, my sailor. Your hair is soft, your voice is sweet. How I long to taste you, your lips are those I cannot resist. And all of me aches for your touch, my sailor. Please, grant me this and I promise you all the pleasures you give to me will be returned by more than there are stars in the sky." The siren preys on your desire for others, for them to accept you, love you, wholly as you are. You might be impulsive, driven by what seems fun in that moment. You may be forgoing thinking about the future to give yourself a quick relief, a quick distraction. You're hiding behind pleasure, to give those around you the idea that it is all you think about, it is all they will expect of you. And when no one expects anything of you, you can't disappoint them. And the thought of disappointing someone, anyone, tears you apart. It is better, so much better, to be simple. To be simple where no one is disappointed in you and your future is not expected to be chased. You can just stay where you are and have fun. Basically: You're either the horny one or you're severally starved for affection, physical or emotional. Either way you're trying to distract yourself from something.

A Wish

The siren calls to you, “O’ my sailor, I hear your cry. I know your days are not as you dream. I know you yearn for the winds of change. I know you, my sailor. But do you know that I can grant your wish? Do you know that I can bring you adventure every day? I can grant you a fulfilling life, my sailor. I can grant you a life full of danger and the luck to always outrun it. I can promise you, my sailor, that if you join me, I can make sure your days never repeat. I can promise that you will never again dread seeing the same sunrise, knowing it brings nothing but the same. Come to me, my sailor and I will grant change your life, I will grant your wish.” The siren preys on your boredom. She knows you are tired of your life. She knows you long for adventure, for excitement, for change. Sailor, she can grant that, and all you need do is join her. Basically: Yikes, you’re probably the sad one. Your life is boring and God, you wish you could just run away and start all over. But you can’t. There’s no opportunity or there’s no time or there’s no support. I'm sure you can turn it around though!

Power Incarnate

The siren calls to you, "O' my sailor, I hear your anguish. Your rage calls to me! But I can help you, my sailor. Come to me and I promise to match your anguish with the cries of the storms, your rage with the wrath of the waves. To me, my sailor, and together we can make pay those who wronged you. Together, my sailor, we can destroy any who oppose you. I promise you this, the oceans and their powers can be yours, if you only join me, my sailor." The siren preys on your ambition and on your hunger for power. She knows what you crave but are too weak now to pursue. But she can help you… You are often in the leadership position and hate when others tell you what to do. You know that you know best, why would anyone suggest otherwise? Why would they doubt you? You want everyone to recognize your potential, your confidence, your ambition. But you may be secretly worried you have none of the above. To quell your insecurities, you may be hiding behind pomposity or arrogance. The thought of anyone seeing through your façade of confidence is enough to make you crumble. But falling apart isn’t allowed, you’ll just have to work harder, now won’t you? Basically: Someone hurt you and you want revenge. Or maybe you never want to be weak ever again. Either way, your ambition grows and you need power to supplement it. You’re probably the leader friend or the strong one and either way someone needs to check up on you.

Tagging: @game-weaver, @xmagicalpansexualpandax, @kaibacorpbros, @crimsonandgoldthieves, @duelingdestiny, @cardsarepower, and anyone else who’d like to participate!

#( Journals - Yugi headcanons )#( Scrolls - Atem headcanons )#( Files - Seto headcanons )#( headcanons )#( tag games )#( ooc )#q

3 notes · View notes

konglindorm · 10 months

Text

SIXTH STORY: THE LAPLAND WOMAN AND THE FINLAND WOMAN

(Over the next seven weeks, I’ll be posting both the text of the Snow Queen, and my thoughts on it. This is the text of the sixth section. All text comes from the public domain translation of Andersen’s works edited by J. H. Stickney and published in 1886. Today's illustration is by Fritz Kredel.)

They stopped at a little hut; it was very mean looking. The roof sloped nearly down to the ground, and the door was so low that the family had to creep in on their hands and knees when they went in and out. There was no one at home but an old Lapland woman who was dressing fish by the light of a train-oil lamp.

The reindeer told her all about Gerda's story after having first told his own, which seemed to him the most important. But Gerda was so pinched with the cold that she could not speak.

"Oh, you poor things," said the Lapland woman, "you have a long way to go yet. You must travel more than a hundred miles farther, to Finland. The Snow Queen lives there now, and she burns Bengal lights every evening. I will write a few words on a dried stockfish, for I have no paper, and you can take it from me to the Finland woman who lives there. She can give you better information than I can."

So when Gerda was warmed and had taken something to eat and drink, the woman wrote a few words on the dried fish and told Gerda to take great care of it. Then she tied her again on the back of the reindeer, and he sprang high into the air and set off at full speed. Flash, flash, went the beautiful blue northern lights the whole night long.

And at length they reached Finland and knocked at the chimney of the Finland woman's hut, for it had no door above the ground. They crept in, but it was so terribly hot inside that the woman wore scarcely any clothes. She was small and very dirty looking. She loosened little Gerda's dress and took off the fur boots and the mittens, or Gerda would have been unable to bear the heat; and then she placed a piece of ice on the reindeer's head and read what was written on the dried fish. After she had read it three times she knew it by heart, so she popped the fish into the soup saucepan, as she knew it was good to eat, and she never wasted anything.

The reindeer told his own story first and then little Gerda's, and the Finlander twinkled with her clever eyes, but said nothing.

"You are so clever," said the reindeer; "I know you can tie all the winds of the world with a piece of twine. If a sailor unties one knot, he has a fair wind; when he unties the second, it blows hard; but if the third and fourth are loosened, then comes a storm which will root up whole forests. Cannot you give this little maiden something which will make her as strong as twelve men, to overcome the Snow Queen?"

"The power of twelve men!" said the Finland woman. "That would be of very little use." But she went to a shelf and took down and unrolled a large skin on which were inscribed wonderful characters, and she read till the perspiration ran down from her forehead.

But the reindeer begged so hard for little Gerda, and Gerda looked at the Finland woman with such tender, tearful eyes, that her own eyes began to twinkle again. She drew the reindeer into a corner and whispered to him while she laid a fresh piece of ice on his head: "Little Kai is really with the Snow Queen, but he finds everything there so much to his taste and his liking that he believes it is the finest place in the world; and this is because he has a piece of broken glass in his heart and a little splinter of glass in his eye. These must be taken out, or he will never be a human being again, and the Snow Queen will retain her power over him."

"But can you not give little Gerda something to help her to conquer this power?"

"I can give her no greater power than she has already," said the woman; "don't you see how strong that is? how men and animals are obliged to serve her, and how well she has gotten through the world, barefooted as she is? She cannot receive any power from me greater than she now has, which consists in her own purity and innocence of heart. If she cannot herself obtain access to the Snow Queen and remove the glass fragments from little Kai, we can do nothing to help her. Two miles from here the Snow Queen's garden begins. You can carry the little girl so far, and set her down by the large bush which stands in the snow, covered with red berries. Do not stay gossiping, but come back here as quickly as you can." Then the Finland woman lifted little Gerda upon the reindeer, and he ran away with her as quickly as he could.

"Oh, I have forgotten my boots and my mittens," cried little Gerda, as soon as she felt the cutting cold; but the reindeer dared not stop, so he ran on till he reached the bush with the red berries. Here he set Gerda down, and he kissed her, and the great bright tears trickled over the animal's cheeks; then he left her and ran back as fast as he could.

There stood poor Gerda, without shoes, without gloves, in the midst of cold, dreary, ice-bound Finland. She ran forward as quickly as she could, when a whole regiment of snowflakes came round her. They did not, however, fall from the sky, which was quite clear and glittered with the northern lights. The snowflakes ran along the ground, and the nearer they came to her the larger they appeared. Gerda remembered how large and beautiful they looked through the burning glass. But these were really larger and much more terrible, for they were alive and were the guards of the Snow Queen and had the strangest shapes. Some were like great porcupines, others like twisted serpents with their heads stretching out, and some few were like little fat bears with their hair bristled; but all were dazzlingly white, and all were living snowflakes.

Little Gerda repeated the Lord's Prayer, and the cold was so great that she could see her own breath come out of her mouth like steam, as she uttered the words. The steam appeared to increase as she continued her prayer, till it took the shape of little angels, who grew larger the moment they touched the earth. They all wore helmets on their heads and carried spears and shields. Their number continued to increase more and more, and by the time Gerda had finished her prayers a whole legion stood round her. They thrust their spears into the terrible snowflakes so that they shivered into a hundred pieces, and little Gerda could go forward with courage and safety. The angels stroked her hands and feet, so that she felt the cold less as she hastened on to the Snow Queen's castle.

But now we must see what Kai is doing. In truth he thought not of little Gerda, and least of all that she could be standing at the front of the palace.

#the snow queen #Hans Christian Andersen #fairy tales

0 notes

clouds-rambles · 3 years

Note

hey bestie i was hoping to request xiao, venti, childe and zhongli where the the reader and the character have just had an argument + the reader needs time to calm down from the argument. omg maybe the reader comes back with a gift to apologise

Ask and ye shall receive <3. I’m the kind of person who needs time to relax and process the situation after an argument. I’m always too worked up (read angry) to kiss and make up straight after an argument.

Pairings; (Separate) Xiao, Venti, Childe, Zhongli x reader

Warning(s); breif mention of a wound, alcoholism, swearing

Keep reading under the cut!

Xiao

You’re probably being too harsh on the guy

You had just come back from a tough mission with a few more scrapes than you normally come back, a nasty cut in particular situated on your shoulder was what caused the argument to kick off in the first place

In hindsight the argument started from Xiao’s concern of you getting hurt worse but you were too tired from the commission to really read it as concern

But boy now do you feel bad. You both went your separate ways for the evening and in the morning you still haven’t caught sight of your partner. You eventually go around Wangshu Inn and ask if they’ve seen Xiao.

You get told that he’s out for the day, apparently he caught wind of something manifesting in the mountains. So, you suppose that it’s high time to make an apology gift

And what’s a better apology gift than your partners favourite food? Because your arguments are often few and far between you don’t mind making Xiao almond tofu since it’s not something you’ve associated with apologising

Though you’re aware that the sweet snack means nothing if you’re not sincere with your apology.

So what’s more sincere than sitting at the highest balcony of Wangshu Inn and wait for Xiao. You don’t mind how long it takes for him to come back just as long as you get to apologise

He comes back just after dusk and you pour your apologise profusely and tell him you understand that he was coming from a place of concern

Xiao is a little distant a short while after the apology but soon you’re reassured that he accepts it when he places his hand on the table for you to take hold of

The two of you sit in silence sat hand in hand while Xiao eats his tofu

You watch him eat with a grin on your face, sometimes just watching the Yaksha sit still and do his thing is enough to keep you in a trance for the evening

Venti

Maybe you got into an argument because you’re concerned over Venti’s drinking habits, sure he’s an immortal god but doesn’t he worry about his liver?

Sure the argument started because you’re worried about the archon but boy does he make you angry with his non-sensical thought processes

Venti is the kind of guy who wouldn’t let you leave without settling the argument

Even if the happy medium isn’t actually going to bring any change into the questionable drinking habits

But this argument just feels a little different, you’ve had the same conversation form months but nothing seems to change

You’re not even sure if Venti has actually listened to anything you have said to him about it

So you tell him “Do what you want, but you’re sleeping on the sofa tonight” yeah you just resigned him to sofa treatment. As much as you hate it you’re far too heated to just kiss and make up right now

So the night passes and you wake up with the cold space beside you, you’re confused until you remember the previous nights events

Though your unusual silence in the room doesn’t last long, you presume Venti sensed that you’re awake because you hear a knock at your bedroom door, you’re surprised that Venti is actually here and that he hadn’t sulked off to Windrise where you had originally planned to apologise to him

As you open the door you notice your partner stood before you with a bunch of hand picked cecelia's and dandelions and an apologetic look on his face

You’ve never known Venti to speak so fast he apologises profusely for causing you such worry and promises that he’ll try to drink less, he mentions that he doesn’t wish to give up his Friday and Saturday drinking nights but he’s willing to tone it down during the week if it stops you worrying

You thank him sincerely and find a vase to put the flowers in

You hug Venti and apologise yourself for being such a worry wart and causing such a big argument

“I’m glad I have someone to worry about me, I don’t know what I’d do without you” You can’t help but swoon at his flowery words and grin at him before the two of you start off the day

Childe

It’s a bad habit he has, when you try and talk about something serious with him he constantly cracks jokes at the situation. Which in its self isn’t the worse thing in the world, even you crack jokes to lighten the situation but at some points it goes too far

And today is too far, what started off as a disagreement about where you were going to eat lunch ended up in a full scale (mostly one sided) argument in Childes office about how he can’t take things seriously

You, of course, know this to be false. You’ve seen him in action against his foes and bank business but just in this moment when you are so angry about the situation those rational thoughts go out the window

And what does the bastard do? He cracks another fucking joke

“Is this what I am?” you ask finally reaching the catalyst of your temper “A fucking joke?”

And boy does the exclamation comes to a surprise to him. No matter how frequent your use of curse words you’ve never directed them at him so it catches Childe by even more surprise

“[name] I’m sorry I didn’-” he tries to apologise

“You didn’t fucking what Tartaglia? Want to make me feel like a joke? Cause you’ve been going down that road at every fucking disagreement we have” you cut him off in a fit of rage “Sleep in your own fucking bed tonight” you add before storming out his office

He tried to follow you out the bank before he was stopped by a fatui agent about some urgent debt collection, so he never got to apologise immediately

And that’s how the next couple of days go, you’ve taken most of the time to cool off and avoid anywhere Childe might be hanging about, your plan works better considering said harbinger was out of Liyue Harbour for a couple of days

Though on the third night Childe appears at your door, he doesn’t bring any gifts, just himself. Childe enjoys gifting things to you so he doesn’t want you or him to associate gift giving with apologies. You’re more than thankful for this

Childe apologises before you even have the chance to invite him in and takes your hand and wholeheartedly promises to try and not make jokes when you have a disagreement

You also apologise and agree that, in hindsight, you blew things out of proportion. You reassure him that he’s a hardworking man and that a few out of place jests make everything more bearable to him.

You invite him inside for some tea, your bed isn’t as cold as it was tonight

Zhongli

Disagreements with Zhongli never seem to get any further than that. The archon likes to listen to you vent your frustrations over a cup of herbal tea and usually that calms you down and everything is settled before supper

But every once in a while you’re a little high strung. For instance this time you’re running on a total of 5 hours sleep over the last 4 days. Sleep deprivation could possibly be your middle name at this point

The only thing you want to do when you get back from your restless trip from Mondstat back home is to just sleep the next few years

But the sweetie that Zhongli is he quizzes you about your great to horrific trip

Zhongli pulls all the stops he readys some dinner for you and draws a bath when you get back. He even gives you a small lecture about how you’ll feel terrible not washing before going to bed

But with your tired ears, eyes and brain it feels like a personal attack in your entire self “I’ve had it up to here with bloody hillichurls for 4 horrific days, all I want to do is pass the living hell out thank you”

Replace the bloodys with fucks and that’s probably more accurate to what you said

Zhongli is taken a little aback, being an older traditional man it’s unbecoming of anyone to use such sailor language. And thus the male lectures you about it

You take that as about as well as you expect, you don’t respond to him and favour walking out the room, barely getting undressed and collapsing on your shared bed

You wake up the next morning (though when you peek outside it seems like it’s after noon) disorientated. You don’t actually remember coming home the previous day

Then the memory resurfaces of you yelling at your spouse and regret washes over you

Surely the gift you had prepared for Zhongli would be good enough as repercussions of yesterdays outburst

You see Zhongli in the dining room, to the untrained eye he looks like he’s in a normal mood but to you, you can see his brooding emanating off of him. If you dare point it out Zhongli will deny that he even broods in the first place

He’s the first to greet you without turning around. Rightfully so, he’s still in a mood. So you just profusely apologise for your outburst

You explain that you were running on next to no sleep and while that doesn’t excuse your outburst it certainly explains it. If your spouse so wishes to ask how your trip was you would comply much more now since you’ve had a good sleep behind you.

You then change the subject to the gift in your hands, some rose tea. Something Zhongli had mentioned when you were courting all that time ago.

The man sits you on his lap and explains to you about how it was out of place of him to assume you’d be in a talking mood immediately after your travels. You reassure him that under normal circumstances you wouldn’t mind talking about it, you promise that you will do everything in your power to not let the previous night repeat

You then bring out his gift, rose tea, which he had mentioned wanting to taste a little while back, and before long you’re back in the cycle of Zhongli profusely explaining to you some random subject (in this instance rose tea) before you go off to make dinner where you finally share the details of your travels

Hope this is okay! <3 I kind of went a little ham with the Childe and Zhongli one in comparison to the other two hope you don’t mind lmao <3

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #reader insert #xiao x reader #genshin xiao x reader #genshin xiao #venti x reader #genshin venti x reader #genshin venti #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin childe x reader #genshin childe #zhongli x reader #genshin zhongli x reader #genshin zhongli

890 notes · View notes

husbandohunter · 3 years

Text

What they love about you (part 1) [Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: It was as if the universe had changed when they saw you.

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, Venti x female reader

Part 2 here

(A/n): Okay okay I know I have some requests yet I decided to write something super indulgent. I'M SORRY! This past week I've just been writing so much angst *looks at inbox* AND MORE ANGST TO COME I really need that dose of Vitamin F(luff) 😭

===========================

Noctua's Heartbeat (Diluc)

For a man who had the whole world in the palm of his hand

With looks, fame and all the wealth he could demand

But what stole away his breath was something not to be bought

For it was merely the calming presence of your living and beating heart.

Your heart was a dignity born for empathy, so beautiful and magnificent with the kind of charm similar to white Cecilias blooming across Mondstadt's fields. Diluc would watch from afar, admiring their glow. It shines without reservation, blissfully unaware to a fault that he couldn't help but feel afraid knowing how the real world would simply pluck you from your roots and shape you in the way they wanted to. People who were tainted souls with tainted soles roaming from the shadows, constantly trampling on other's beliefs before leaving them to rot.

Ah but of course, Cecilias are wildflowers. No matter how many times they were stepped on, they could still withsand any force nature throws at them. Whether it'd be raging storms or scorching heat from the summer sky, you were the same through it all. Love. You were in love. You were in love with the wind, you were in love with people, you were in love with the world and everything that lives in it.

And so, Diluc wonders if that was the reason why everything suddenly began to shimmer.

He treaded on a path fated for loneliness while longing for the dawn to appear out of the night horizon-- where emotions once frozen until you came in to melt the ice. He blocked his heart but you tore down those walls. Diluc swore to never feel if it meant protecting himself and yet you held onto his shattered pieces tenderly, dearly, blowing the love of life and teaching it how to beat again.

Your heart was like a fountain of all the hopes he abandoned years ago and the dreams that no one had the courage to envision, cleansing everything within it's reach and freshening them anew. You were a being so in tune with your emotions that it sang through all that you did, laughing despite your obstacles and shedding tears when overjoyed, a single drop it was but still held the depth of the entire ocean. Diluc vows to protect you for your heartbeat was also his own. He'll gladly lay down his life because losing you deemed far worse than any death he could imagine.

~xx~

The other eye of Pavo Ocellus (Kaeya)

The knight's shining armour serves only as a disguise

When beauty from the surface is one's own demise

He used it to protect himself, decorating his words with pretty lies

But unmatched when facing against your truthful eyes.

They say the eye was an open window to a person's true colours. If that were the case then the painting inside him must have been an unsightly one.

Every once in a while the people of Mondstadt would speak about their Cavalry Captain's eyepatch, whether he was injured after being sent out on a mission or if he wears it for the sake of image. No one knows, it was rather unsettling, why someone would cover their eye despite not being injured. Secrets? Perhaps. Kaeya was known to be a man shrouded in mystery after all.

Your gaze was his Death After Noon. Sparkling upon the surface yet with the tasteful allure so captivating that it was almost dangerous. Just one glance and he was intoxicated, eventually leading to a slip of the tongue, revealing what was buried deep within his contaminated essence. Kaeya hated that you had the uncanny ability to see through his mask. Your innocence so contrasting, he felt like looking into a mirror, reminding just how much of an ugly person he truly was in comparison.

But mirrors are easy to break, no?

The thought delivers a sinister smile on his face. Pitiful-- is the state where you were. Pitiful-- it's what he is. How could he think of such things when all you offered was kindness? Unlike Kaeya, you were an honest person, always wearing your emotions on your sleeve and unaware of the devil's vicinity. He was tempted by the invite to crush you and run away like the coward he was meant to be. However as he stares deeply into your eyes he realized they weren't made of glass. They were gems. The most precious gems hardened by the pressures of experience.

In the shine of thine eyes resides the stars and the moon as if stolen from the Abyss, leading to the edges of the universe that was blessed within your mind. The look of curiosity filled with rich hues all held by a soulful stare while they pierced through the armour shaped around his heart. It was your ability to recognize beauty amongst the most wretched of things that he fell so hopelessly in love with you because for the first time someone had seen him-- his flaws and his faults, his abyss painted darker than black but loved him despite it all. As he drowns himself in the world of your gaze, Kaeya prays to never be the one who will steal away those stars or moon because they looked the most beautiful on you.

~xx~

The Winged Nemesis who flew towards the Sun (Xiao)

He looks at your face as if he saw spring for the first time

An unsual encounter, wondering how could something be so sublime

The yaksha stands upon the corpses while reaching for the sky

Seeing the sun in your smile that he wishes to fly

Xiao has dealt with the cards of death and won through many of it's games. But his life was a gamble as the karmic binds may one day bring the same fate that was done upon his comrades-- insanity, murder and corruption. So he swears an oath to his god and himself, ensuring the darkness only he could bear does not seep into the light.

A gust of wind sways in when you pass by, he was struck by pensive bewilderment because happiness was a feeling unknown to him. It was the expression you made whenever you greeted him good morning. The complexion you had while charging through life's challenges. And the face you wore even during the times where there was no reason to smile. Xiao has felt the might of the sun for her light will never be exstinguished by his darkness, he could only succumb to it.

But you were not just the sun, you were the flowers that bloomed beneath her heavenly sky and the birds that chirped upon those earth-like trees. You were a whole new world he didn't dare to touch because dreams were delicate and his cursed self would only devour them until nothing was left. Still, the mighty sun shines through it all, stretching out her rays like a welcoming embrace until the universe had been revitalized, giving birth to new life after winter's storm.

If pictures told a thousand words then he had a thousand reasons and more to love you. Xiao witnessed the sweetest joy decorated by pink petal blossoms dancing around him, the one who pulled him out of his spiraling trance of darkness. The breath he takes no longer felt suffocating and instead was replaced by the smell of nature's greatest gifts: you. Stay away, he says, because there were times where you shone so brightly that he had to look elsewhere. Your rays burned him and he thinks it might drill holes into his wings. Painful it may be but if the splendor of spring could only be admired after the harsh cold snow, then maybe pain and love were only two sides of the same coin.

A world without the sun--such unfathomable thoughts--is a death he does not wish to deal with.

~xx~

A song she sings for the God of Wind (Venti)

Man lives by the power of the tongue,

Whatever Man speaks is aligned with Man's choice.

Hearken when she talks for her words are to be sung,

Because not only was she lovely but so was her voice.

-Venti

There were many reasons why Venti loved music. The freedom to express oneself when words weren't enough, allowing one's spirit to flow out of their mouth and be with the wind. It was the feeling he had when he listened to you because your voice was sweeter than any song he sang or played.

When you speak it was as if the world around you danced, bringing them to the mercy of your stage. Like standing upon the soft grass while letting the sparks of dandelions dust against his own skin, Venti would close his eyes as he hears you speak-- it was you, just you and that was all he needed. He swears that no one in the world could sound as living as you did because it was the words you say that stole his heart away.

The vibration in your tone was fleshed with kindness yet so sure and firm to the point it could even bring a god to his knees. If he were a sailor then you were the siren, enchanting him with your bell-like voice and bringing him to a territory where he can never escape from. It was the spell of your divine song, his Carmen Dei, that tricked the trickster. Venti did not mind as long as he was able to feel the blessing amongst his ears.

694 notes · View notes

cinebration · 3 years

Text

Prophetic Fucking Visions (Alfie Solomons x Reader) [One-shot]

Prompt: “Am I not good enough?” / “I’m not good enough.”

For @writeroutoftime! I had so much fun writing this! I was nervous, because I love Alfie so much and felt I couldn’t write him, but here we are. I hope you like it!

Warnings: blood and guts, seagull death

Gif Source: cillianmurphyss

You first met Alfie on the shore, though you were in the sand and he was above you on the bluff. A gunshot exploded above your head.

Curses spewed out of you as you ducked, your heart pounding in your chest. A seagull went down in a puff of feathers, blood splattering onto your hair.

You swore loudly.

Alfie’s grizzled face peered over the bluff, eyes squinting down at you. “Fuck me, that’s a woman.”

Shading your eyes against the sun, you glared up at him. “What gave it away?”

“Not your fuckin’ sailor’s mouth,” he boomed at you.

If only I had a sailor’s fist, I’d knock you down, you thought.

“Sorry, love, didn’t mean for all that shit on ya. Come on up and get yourself cleaned up.”

You hesitated. You didn’t know him, and he still had the pistol in his hand. “I’ll manage,” you called up.

“Fuck me, you want me to throw down a rag instead?”

It was better than walking back into town with seagull oozing down your face. “If you please.”

“Awright,” Alfie croaked, disappearing.

After five minutes of waiting, the sun starting to beat down on you, you decided the rag wasn’t worth waiting for. You resumed your walk across the beach.

“Woman!”

You stopped in your tracks and turned toward the voice. Alfie lumbered across the sand toward you, a small towel clutched in one broad hand. You stared at him. The man seemed to be a bear, shoulders slightly hunched as he made his way to you.

The horrid scar on the left side of his face and the milky blue eye drew your attention last. The other eye searched your face as he at last stopped before you and extended the cloth.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, taking it from him and roughing it over your hair.

“Not seen you around these parts, Sailor Mouth.”

You arched your eyebrows. “Sailor Mouth?”

“Got nothin’ else to call you ’til you give me your name.”

“And what would I call you?”

“The Wandering Jew.”

Your eyebrows arched higher, but you kept quiet. Raking the towel over your hair and ears one last time, you asked, “Did I get it all?”

Lips pressing together, he surveyed your head. Taking the towel from your hand, he swiped it along your forehead and then down the back of your neck, wiping away the last of the gunk. He grunted his approval.

“Thank you,” you repeated.

“For getting seagull guts all over you? That’s bad luck, that is.”

A rueful chuckle slipped past your lips. “Call me Bad Luck Sailor Mouth.”

Alfie’s good eye glimmered.

“I do the odd thing here and there. Nothing too respectable,” you said with a laugh.

Alfie walked alongside you on the beach. You had chanced upon him a week after the seagull incident. He had struck up a friendly, albeit strange conversation with you before you had been forced to return back to town.

This was the fourth such meeting. It seemed he had been waiting for you this time. You only walked the beach once a week, not always on the same day, so he must have waited each day to see if you’d walk by.

“I used to make bread,” he said. “It isn’t too respectable neither.”

“Well, I’m sure real bakers would abhor liquid bread.”

He looked at you sharply.

“Your reputation precedes you,” you informed him. “It seems you’re a god down in Camden Town.”

He grunted. “I was resurrected.”

“And I was swallowed into the whale’s belly.”

He laughed. “That where you got your sailor’s mouth, is it?”

“More like my bad luck.”

He looked at you with that unblinking stare of his. It disconcerted you less and less the more you saw it. He seemed to be fixing it on you more frequently, though you couldn’t understand why. You felt scrutinized, a not altogether unpleasant feeling from him.

“You eat?” he asked.

“What, whales? That’s not how I got out of that mess.”

His eyes gleamed wickedly in the setting sun. “Dinner.”

“Sure, if you have whale to spare.”

“No whale, I fuckin’ hate fish.”

“I suppose that’s alright. It’d just taste like bad luck.”

Alfie lumbered off in the direction of his home. You managed to keep pace with him, his stride long but unhurried. A light breeze blew off the sea, tickling your cheeks with sea spray even at a distance. Ominous clouds gathered on the horizon, the distant breakers foaming white as the wind whipped them into a frenzy.

Alfie refused to let you help in the kitchen. You followed him into it anyway, watched him work. He had put a chicken in his oven earlier. You gathered he had hoped to have you over for dinner—had probably prepared a special meal every day until you arrived.

“On occasion,” he informed you, “I did make real bread.” He set a basket full of it before you.

You plucked off a small roll and began to eat it as you waited for him to finish roasting some vegetables. “A chicken, huh?”

“The seagull I shot didn’t keep. It was a stringy bastard.”

You laughed, the sound filling the space over the sizzle of the stove.

You enjoyed every bite of dinner. Alfie watched you with interest as you ate your fill.

“What’s a woman like you doin’ here in Margate? Why aren’t you in London or someplace?”

“Too big and noisy.” You shrugged. “Nobody gets seagull in my hair or shoots at boats for fun. I guess they only do that to people.”

“Ah, well, I’ve done that. Shot people.”

You lifted your head to see him staring at you. “For business or…?”

He leaned back in his chair, appraising you. “A bit of both.”

You nodded and resumed eating. Your inquiries about him after your first meeting had told you that much about him.

Dessert was succulent fruit. Alfie had fallen into silence, not quite brooding but definitely pensive. He directed you into the living room, the open balcony doors overlooking the ocean. The storm approached, a mild rain beginning to fall.

It reminded you of the rainy days of your childhood. Your mother would stoke the hearth fire and spin yarns to while away the hours.

The weather and Alfie’s unusually subdued demeanor pulled you down into a somber mood.

“My mother told me a story once,” you murmured, “one I’ve never forgotten. It goes like this. A young man meets a beautiful woman—the woman of his dreams, he thinks—who always treats him well but never responds to his advances. He watches her from afar, watching as other men try to woo her. She treats them coldly. He thinks to himself, ‘She must love me. She treats me better than them.’ But try as he might, with flowers and sweets and pretty words, he can’t get her to acknowledge her feelings.

“So one day, he asks, desperate, ‘Am I not good enough?’ And she says, ‘I’m not good enough. I’d make a poor wife. I’ll never be the woman in your dreams.’ He protests, but she tells him, ‘I have a temper, and I speak my mind. I wake ill-humored and have days where it feels like the whole sky is gray and nothing can lift it. My smile is fake, and I hate this place.’

“He realizes with a broken heart that she is not the woman he believed her to be, and he leaves her.”

Silence descended on you both.

“I hate that story,” you hissed quietly. “It doesn’t tell you that he drinks too much and stays out late, that he would make an equally poor husband. He isn’t the man of her dreams either. Neither is enough alone, but together, they can be.”

Alfie shifted in his seat. The creak of his chair drew your attention. A deep furrow scored his brow. “Dreams, yeah?” The tension in his voice sent a shiver through you.

“Yeah,” you echoed.

“I’ve been having these dreams lately, see. They’ve got this woman in it, yeah, but I can’t see her face. She could be anyone. In these dreams, she asks me a question, right? And I know in that moment she will be my death.” He looked at you, unblinking. “You’ve got a question for me, yeah?”

You met his gaze. It was the question you hadn’t asked when he had introduced himself. “What did you do to condemn yourself to be the wandering Jew?”

He stilled. The waves crashed on the shore beyond the window, seagulls shrieking overhead.

“Yeah.” His voice rumbled in his chest. “That’s it.”

“Any woman could’ve asked that.”

“They would’ve asked, ‘Why do you call yourself that? What’s it mean?’ But you know what it means, so you asked the right question.”

“How will I be your death, then?”

“Fuck if I know.”

Thunder pealed, shaking the windows.

“Should I leave?”

“Did I say that? I came to Margate to fucking die, yeah? I’d rather someone love me to death than this fucking cancer.”

You swallowed thickly. “I’m not the woman of your dreams.”

“You’re right,” he growled. “I don’t have dreams. I have prophetic fucking visions. So are ya gonna fuckin’ kiss me or wot, Sailor Mouth?”

“You bet your fucking ass I am.”

#Alfie Solomons x Reader #Alfie Solomons #Alfie Solomons imagine #Tom Hardy x Reader #Tom Hardy #Tom Hardy imagine #Peaky Blinders #woot1kchallenge #request

502 notes · View notes

piratesgiftexchange · 2 years

Text

100 Years

For @allyourfearsarecomingtrue

Word count: 1489

Prompts: The rich, lush horror of slowly turning into a fishperson ; So where does the Dutchman get its candles, gunpowder, cannonshot, Jones’ tobacco etc.? What port serves the cursed crew once every ten years? Would love to see a fic focusing on the rel between the fish crew and the seaside town willing to trade with them.

Notes: I’m sorry, I tried. I definitely could not get my descriptions as visceral as I wanted. This takes place at some unspecified time before canon, so I tried to use just (what I think are?) the older members of the crew. Idk when the others would have been brought on.

“Do you fear death?”

You’re on the deck of an unfamiliar ship, clear skies overhead. The last thing you remember is laying down in your bunk after a nearly twenty-hour shift through the worst storm you’ve seen. Once the winds began to subside, your captain had ordered you and a number of your fellow crewmen below decks to get some rest. You don’t recall what happened next.

The deck in front of you is like none you’ve ever seen. Barnacles cover everything in such a way that, surely, nothing can move. Spines of various creatures, human and not, grow from posts on the railing, on the quarterdeck supports, even the masts seem to be at least partially constructed from bone.

Is this a dream? Surely not, as the wind on your face is cool, same as the gash across your gut is hot. You watch as your innards lazily roll out, seeping your shirt in blood. It hurts dully, in a far-off and detached kind of way. It doesn’t feel like your body, and yet you recognize your skin as your own. You regard it with curiosity and vague disinterest. When did that happen?

“Do you fear death?” The voice repeats, from in front of you this time.You look up and - well, that can’t be.

The man (can it be regarded as a man, barely human as it is?) standing before you is, truly, a monster. His face is more fish than anything, tentacles acting as a beard. One hand ends in a lobster claw, the other mostly tentacles. One of his legs also seems to be a claw, you note.

“Well, do ya?”

You do, very much, and say so.

“I can offer you an escape. One hundred years before the mast. Will ye serve?”

You don’t think. This is surely a dream. You nod, and the crew laughs.

The first time you go underwater is terrifying. The rest of the crew gets great amusement out of watching you grip a line and hold your breath, laughing as you think you run out of air. One of them - Ogilvey, you’ve learned - slaps you hard on the back.

You gasp. Nothing happens.

No, that’s not entirely true. Water rushed in, but you don’t feel like you’re choking on it. Instead, it feels like particularly thick, humid air, the kind you get on a muggy day or in a sauna.

Ogilvey laughs. “You’re one of us now.”

Your stomach hasn’t healed. The crew says it won’t, and there’s no use patching it up. Still, though, it isn’t like you can go about your duties with your guts hanging out! You take a net and wrap it around your waist a few times, tying it in place. It doesn’t fix the problem completely, of course, but it’s a bit more manageable now.

Your skin, you notice, has faded to a deep green, nearly black. The darkest spots are around the wound, with the green lightening up further away. The discoloration looks like it’s growing. When you press on the skin, it oozes a thick gel. You taste it. It’s sour.

The ship has been heading north for weeks. You, like all the crew, feel the dead and dying men everyday in the sea around you, but the captain ignores them. He is on a mission, though you don’t know what it is.

You’ve acclimated, somewhat, to the crew. You play liar’s dice with them, share tales of conquest and defeat, and how you each died. You’re still not sure, so you make your best guess: during the quiet of the storm, when there were fewer sailors on deck, a massive wave crashed over the ship, cracking it in half with the force. A beam must have landed on you while you slept, resulting in your split gut.

Most of your innards have settled themselves into place (not the right place, mind, but a place that is for the most part out of the way) except for one. That one length has instead, it seems, become sentient. It writhes on it’s own through the gaps in the net, the short tentacles at its mouth feeling at the rope. The mouth is lined with rows of teeth, and what is left of your shirt is perpetually covered in a layer of mucous. Palifico, Angler, and the others enjoy feeding it and watching it tear flesh to shreds.

You try not to think about it. Though you can feel it moving, it doesn’t feel like a part of you. It feels more like a parasite, but like your entire body has become parasitic and the victim is what’s left of who you were before death.

You wonder how many of the crew are simply acting as host for their own sea anomalies. You wonder how long it will take for you to get as far as them, if you’ll even notice it happening.

Land had appeared on the horizon, and the ship makes right for it.

“I thought the captain couldn’t go on land?” You ask aloud, to no one in particular.

“Cap’n can’t. We can,” Maccus growls.

“But - why?” Do you need anything? Since your death, you hadn’t felt the need to eat, to drink, hadn’t wanted the close comfort of another. What else was there?

Angler pushed by you. “Still need to restock. Help get the boat ready.”

As you, Angler, Ogilvey, and Wyvern board the rowboat to go ashore. Wyvern explains. “It isn’t that Jones can simply not go on land. The sea won’t allow it. Normally, it works with him, welcomes him. Near land, it will not let us close.”

“Is that why we anchored so far out?”

“Partly,” Angler grins.

You soon see what he means. The town is shut down when you arrive, the streets empty and shops bare. The men don’t seem deterred by this at all.

Ogilvey bangs on the window of a floor-level shop. “Ludya! Open up!”

“Take you and your sea scum and get out!”

Angler smirks at you and forces the door open. “Is that anyway to talk to an old friend?” He asks as you all enter the small building. It looks like a simple shop, where nearly anything could be bought.

“I’ll consider you friends when we’re both rotting in hell,” the woman, presumably Ludya, spits. She’s an older woman, hardened by strife and a life that’s taken more than it’s given.

“Looks like that’ll come sooner for you than me,” Angler says.

“And it can’t come soon enough. What do you want this time?”

“Same as always,” Ogilvey shrugs.

“And in return?”

Wyvern drops a heavy pouch on the counter. It falls over, spilling out gems and gold.

Ludya regards it, unimpressed. “Aye, I suppose that’ll do. It’ll take a few hours to load up the shot and powder. You don’t have to stick around, we’ll bring everything to you.”

Angler elbows you. “That means she wants us to leave. Can you believe it? The audacity.”

“What have you done before?”

“What makes you think we’ve done something before?” Ogilvey askes, swiping a pastry as you all leave the shop. “We won’t be leaving, of course. We are going to enjoy our two hours.” He leads your group to a tavern, where you all take seats at a table. Though there are no other customers, a few of the barmaids and stockboys from the back find their way to the counter to watch you. One particularly brave server brings you all drinks.

“We’re an anomaly,” Wyvern says. A truer statement had never been made. “Once about - 50? - years ago, we came here to, same as now, restock supplies. But that was the same day the English decided to invade. We helped run them off and ever since, the town’s been in our debt.”

“But you paid for the supplies?”

He shrugs. “It goes both ways.”

A boy brings out a fiddle, and you can sort of see what Wyvern means. The town gets to experience a small dose of the crew, gathering their own stories for years to come, and you four get to pretend to be regular sailors for a few hours, enjoying a drink in a tavern.

Something has attached to your back. It hurts. You can feel spikes digging in deep, melding with your spine. This is happening too fast. The other transformations took place over months, years. You saw yourself be lost, little by little, as the hagfish sprouting from your stomach grew and the green discoloration spread through your body.

Wyvern is all but gone, melded into the ship like so many others before him. You think this ship isn’t run by the dead and dying, it’s made of the dead and dying.

“Part of the crew, part of the ship,” you say.

#pirates of the caribbean #potc #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #submission #fanfic #round 1

11 notes · View notes

skiitter · 2 years

Text

Something reaches into the spaces between and wrenches out his heart. He sits up, alight with nameless terror. The familiar, pale blue casts too long shadows along the walls of his room and, despite its sudden absence, all he can hear is a heartbeat. It is not his own.

Something is wrong. He knows it the way a sailor knows the taste of a coming storm. Fingers curl around a broadsword and he stalks the halls for the unseen aberration. There is nothing and he is alone.

Too alone.

The letter arrives by hawke the next day. He's hardly a learned man but the wretched words echo back the fear already festering in his gut. Something old and serrated shuffles beneath his scarred body and, once more, he must become cruel.

It takes weeks to arrive at the crumbling castle in the sky. Soldiers bar his passage and so he waits, wraithlike and cold, in the half-melted ice for the moon to rise. In the still dead of night, he stalks the battlements, catching edges of conversations that flicker like fire on the wind. If he strains, he hears a familiar voice and the snarl it invokes startles the horses.

Their room is impossibly far off the ground. Scaling the walls is grueling but there is no fuel like that of unbridled violence and his body obeys. The wind stings, slipping like blades beneath the scales of his armor. He hefts himself over an unguarded balcony and peers through half open doors into the dark room. His prey sleeps alone, without security, without concern.

He snaps.

They're no wide eyed babe and he cannot catch this apparently powerful diplomat unawares, not that it matters. Surprise, even in small doses, is lethal in the right hands and there is nothing that he wields that is not deadly. Expertly carved and crafted for a singular purpose; he will greet this bloodied act like an old friend.

A scuffle ensues, and they are quick. A dagger in one hand, a bit of magic in the other. In a detached way he is impressed at how long they hold fast against his rage. Still, all things mortal must fall.

"Who--" he pins their writhing body to the floor with the full weight of his own. Metal gauntlets split the seams of tender flesh and it is only when his arm presses their neck to the floor that he speaks.

"What have you done to Hawke?"

Eyes, wide in fear and regret, color his vision that bright, crimson red and when he rips the beating heart from the wet cavity of their heaving chest, a bird cries out into the cold, empty night. A wolf howls. An elf screams.

And Fenris is alone.

#fenris #fenhawke #dragon age 2 #skitterfics #feel like overcooked pasta so here's this

8 notes · View notes

cosmiclatte28 · 3 years

Text

Autumn in My Heart (Taeyong x you, you x Jaehyun)

hello, another fic I made that flopped, but I want to bring this back with another pairing. I love this, still one of the angst I made that I feel okay to post.

One shot - angst/fluff

a/n : Taeyong sounds like a bad boyfriend, but trust me he isn’t. Jaehyun is the rebound you found in the middle of a storm.

(Posted on wattpad before, and one in tumblr as an exo pairing but only got 1 notes ☹)

Enjoy

The picturesque scene of red and orange trees cannot fool the dull and sombre race of falling leaves pulled by the gravity. Be honest, autumn is depressing. See the falling leaves, dying every time a gush of cold wind tingles. (y/n) hates seeing the piles of dead leaves on the ground, she feels like the trees are selfish that they let the leaves die in order to survive.

The clock strikes six when you have put on your tailor fitted Pea coat from Schott’s. Tonight, your favorite fragrance from Chloe accompanies you. You inhale your favorite floral scent and get ready as your smart watch rings with a caller ID you love dearly. Your lover has rung you up saying he is downstairs waiting for you to take your time. You make your last tuck on your Pea coat and pocket your phone as you slipped your feet to the leather boots. You make sure to kiss your corgi good bye before keeping the key in your pocket and slightly run to meet the waiting prince; your waiting prince!

The elevator ride almost killed you; you frown whenever the door opens and what greet you are the foreign faces of your neighbor from other floors; after pressing the close button five more times, you finally reach your destination. With your round eyes you scan the whole room and find your prince in no time. His fashion and his tall body make him easy to spot.

“Taeyong! I’m here, let’s go!” you cling into the taller man’s arm and giddily drag him out of the warm lobby. The early cold wind harshly welcomes both of you outside; Taeyong clears his throat and pulls you closer. He takes in your small hand, holds it firm in his big hand, and pops it nicely into his toasty pocket of his Burberry trench coat. “It’s starting to get cold,” Taeyong smiles.

You blush, even when Taeyong had done this for three consecutive autumns, your heart will always beat like it was your first time. You did nothing though and just follow his long legs that bring them to a place you know a bit too much.

“Usual place Yong?”

The tall blonde man nods and after walking through the busy streets, you found yourself in a restaurant district. Your stomach growl when the delicious smell of your favorite food can be smelled from a meter. You both sit down on your usual chairs, place the same ordinary menu; a Hawaiian pizza slice for you and a Pepperoni for Taeyong. Though Taeyong never agrees that pineapple goes with pizza, he never speaks his opinion out loud to you, he just can’t. Try and say that to a person who really enjoys it and do you dare see their heart breaks? No Taeyong doesn’t want to break her heart; it’s the last thing he wanted to do to (Y/n).

Dinner is amazing. Over two slices of giant pizza and soda, you exchange stories, laugh over new jokes, and secretly treasure this sweet moment. You both end their pizza date with a split bill and with the warmth of a full stomach. The couple make their way out of the bright, fragrance road and move to another crowded and romantic district.

You told Taeyong about a new milkshake shop opening in here in Gangnam, and Taeyong will do everything that brings a smile to your face. With you standing close by his side, Taeyong naturally slides his arm to hug your slim waist from the side as he reads the menu in the TV from the queuing line.

The café is full of sweet couples, the atmosphere here is so warm and comfortable, Taeyong knows this will 99% become their favorite hangout place.

“We’re so sorry, but we sold the second last cup already… We only have one left for the special house favorite’s chocolate,” the man with a name tag reading Doyoung, smiles apologetically to the two sweet couple across him.

You run your eyes to the TV screen to look for another substitute, but Taeyong was faster.

“No problem, an extra straw will do. How much for the last cup?” Taeyong hands Doyoung his card and swipes the bill.

You squeal deep inside your heart, how come Taeyong could always do a new sweet action every time we go out?!

“You sure don’t want anything else?” you ask when Taeyong lets go off his straw after a good five sips.

Taeyong shakes his head and raises his thumb to wipe a trace of chocolate from your lips, “No, you can have them all. It tastes good and I know you like them so much.” Taeyong kisses his thumb and cleans the chocolate from your lips.

You playfully punch Taeyong, “What’s into you?! Why are you suddenly this sweet!”

Taeyong laughs it off and rolls his eyes, “Because I am a nice boyfriend? Come on admit it—” you shut him off with a quick peck “—I’m going to have heart attack (y/n), if you are making that a habit.”

After making a loud sip to ensure you leave nothing on the bottom of the glass, you and Taeyong step out of the lovely café. Both of you freeze when you see people carrying umbrellas and celebrating something.

“The first snow!” Both of you choir and giggle upon welcoming the cold winter!

You reach for a folded umbrella you had brought in your pocket and this time take the lead to pull the taller man closer and tries your best to raise the umbrella to his height. Taeyong cannot oppress his gummy smile and allows you do your thing.

“I am not taking care of a sick Taeyong again, that’s why I read the weather forecast earlier and they predicted the first snow the fall. Turns out they were accurate this year, come Yong let’s walk under the first snow!” you sneakily place your hand into Taeyong’s coat and the taller simply holds your hand.

You both have fun for a moment under the first snow, took some pictures and updated your social media platforms.

“The snow is falling harder; shall we head home?” Taeyong worries for your health. The two of you are responsible for coming on working days, falling sick is something you two can’t afford.

You do not refuse; along your careful steps on the slippery grounds the couple doesn’t stop talking at all. You will find new topics whenever a topic seems to come to an end. Tonight is a good date night. The date night ends with Taeyong ushering you back to your Apartment room.

“Goodbye Yongie, thank you for tonight!” you shake your wet umbrella.

“No problem sweetie, I’ll be going now,”

“Wait—” you run to your room and return not long after it, you get on the tip of your toes and wrap a warm red scarf over Taeyong “—take that with you, it’s my winter present. Stay safe okay and call me when you got home.” you bury your face on his chest as he hugs you tight.

“Thanks honey, Good night.” Taeyong steps back and waves his hand.

You wiggle your hand in panic, “Oh take the umbrella! And please just grab a taxi!” you push your umbrella to Taeyong’s hand.

Taeyong chuckles and tousles your soft hairs, “Yes maam! I can take care of myself—” Taeyong winks and you only roll your eyes. The tall blonde makes his stealing move and kiss the plump lips of yours before finally going back home.

Sun rises and sets, moon shines and hides, the world rotates, and time runs. Your love for each other blooms, although the relationship has ups and downs, the two of you can overcome the big waves and sail your ship to another calm ocean. A calm sea will never make a skilful sailor, and one day the biggest wave crashes to their ship, and you feel like you are forcefully drowned into the dark deep grief of heart breaks.

The road is crowded, well at least there are cars speeding in the road, and your sparkly eyes are fixed on a “sweet” scene in front of you. Yeah sweet if the people you saw were someone you did not know, or your best friend; but seriously not sweet if it’s your boyfriend you saw over the road holding hands with another pretty girl, wrapped in an expensive suit looking all lovey dovey with your man. Maybe Taeyong did not know or see you on the other side of the road, but you cannot mistake that man as someone else. Your eyes turn red; you fetch your phone and take the speed dial to call Taeyong. You wait for a moment with your eyes fixed on the two people across you.

The pedestrian traffic turns green, and you see the two of them walking to cross the road. You quickly hide yourself in an old payphone box while still listening to the waiting tone and keeping an eye on Taeyong. When Taeyong made it with the sweet smiling guy to the same street as yours, you swear your call was sent to voicemail. Taeyong also presses his screen earlier, hufth he didn’t even hesitate to reject your call. Insteaad, Taeyong looks so happy walking with this new girl. Your jealousy and suspicion completely take over you, you lean over the small phone box and stare at your screen emptily.

“Sorry, busy can’t pick up your call.” taeyong’s message appears in his notification bar.

You swallow the stuck lump in your throat; disappointed and angry, you run back to your apartment. You were planning to buy dinner and surprise Taeyong in his office for working overtime. If his vocabulary for overtime means having a walk with another woman, heol you won’t bother coming to see him.

You lock yourself in your room and cry your heart out, your stomach grumbles, but your heart aches more. You ignore all of the calls and messages in your phone. Thirty minutes later you wipe your eyes and after ensuring your heart you need to do this: you text a number.

“Yuta, you’re right… I’m coming to the dinner tomorrow. What’s his name again?”

This time you regret not listening to your friends when they warned you about your boyfriend playing fire behind your back. You are too naïve and blunt to realize Taeyong has slowly changed. He was not as sweet as he used to, he got busy, and he rarely picked your calls. At first you simply forgive him; thinking he must be busy with his works, turns out you are living blindly.

Taeyong paces in his room while sticking phone to his ear. He bites his lips when the line beeps but no one seems to answer the call.

“Pick up. Pick up (Y/n)…. Please… I’m worried sick…” Taeyong ends the waiting and jumps to the message room. He sends more messages asking if you are okay, why are you not picking up calls, and why are you not reading his messages.

Taeyong feels guilty rejecting your call earlier, but he cannot pick the call there when he thinks his coworker has a big crush and is flirting with him. Taeyong cannot bring himself to answer the call and crushes the cute girl’s dream. Yes, his co-worker is lately clinging on his side, and Taeyong cannot lie and say she’s unattractive. She is a calm and nice woman, good with works, and Taeyong finds it hard to keep his heart stable when she’s around.

Taeyong thought he saved the girl from crying in the streets, when in reality his real girlfriend is the one crying on the busy streets… by herself. Poor Taeyong doesn’t know this.

The next morning, you did not bat an eye nor reply any of Taeyong’s messages. You muted his number and prepare for work. As you spray your perfume, the front door beeps open and a tall man you used to love, but now hate, shows up with a bouquet of yellow flowers on his hand.

“Good morning sunshine! What’s with the cloudy face?” Taeyong extends his hand to give you the arrangement.

You look at his sickening handsome smile and walk to take your working bag. “Nothing. I’m tired of work and this life full of lies.”

Taeyong frowns, “What do you mean?”

You just hum an “I don’t know” tone and occupy yourself with packing your lunch and laptop.

Taeyong walks to the kitchen table and picks your phone, he scrolls through the notifications and shakes his head, “WOW! You haven’t opened my text, not a single one! Why?” he sounds confused.

You’re the type to always have your phone on your nose almost every second, what’s with leaving him unread?

You snatch your phone, “I fell asleep earlier yesterday after you said I shouldn’t come and have dinner with you, since you’re taking overtime.”

Taeyong sighs, “Come on (y/n), you’re acting like this just because I denied your offer to eat dinner together?” you walk away.

“Don’t act so childish. We can always have dinner together tonight or other nights.” Taeyong snaps.

You keep your cold face on; take your lunch and working bag, and slip into your shoes. Taeyong shadows you all over the place.

“Really? Then why did you cancel it yesterday?” You hold on to the door knob.

“I had a sudden meeting.” Taeyong lies quickly.

“Oh so now you call walking with another woman without companion, while acting lovely is your definition of meeting. To me I call that a secret date mister!” you stomp your foot, “Now go! Leave! I am tired of your lies!!” you exit the room, but Taeyong holds a grip of your hand.

“but…” Taeyong is cut off by your voice “For your information Taeyong, I saw you with my own eyes walking with a woman and rejecting my call.” you raise your tone and his face turns red. You break your hand free and rush to the parking lot.

Taeyong runs after you, but luck must’ve left him today for the lift closes before he can reach you. You are clearly mad and fed up, for you are not trying to do anything to clean up the misunderstanding.

Your day goes on differently, you are still absorbed in the sadness and pain, while Taeyong… Taeyong thinks today’s problem will end like any others. His day is smooth and the woman from yesterday even offers him coffee. Upon seeing Taeyong busy checking his phone; waiting for someone to call or chat; she asks him, “What’s bothering you?”

Taeyong thinks for a while, should he tell her what actually happened, but what if things get darker and dangerous? After some consideration, Taeyong decides to use the help chance. He told her what happened yesterday and earlier this morning. She just laughs and comes up with a solution, “I can help you clarify this… Give me her number, I’ll talk to her.”

Taeyong denies that idea at first, but after some more convincing words from her, he gave up your phone number to her. He thought maybe you would listen to her.

Sure, her idea was not completely wrong, You answers her call in a friendly manner and you did not blame her for anything. You listened to all of her kind and sincere explanation, but your heart still cannot easily forgive Taeyong for doing it.

You dress up nicely in a bomber jacket and put on a cap to hide your puffy eyes. You take your step to greet your date tonight, the man Yuta told him about. Jung Jaehyun, son of the CEO of Neo corporation: Korea’s first leading group in food supply, while Taeyong is the son of the second leading group.

To put it into words, Jaehyun is a man of daydream. He is everything you expected when meeting a living prince charming. He talks in his deep voice, his choice of words are amazing, his fashion taste is casual yet daydreaming, his manners are polished as perfect as one can be, but no matter how nice and perfect Jaehyun is, your heart cannot stop comparing him to Taeyong. Taeyong is not as perfect as him, Taeyong is more of the clumsy type and silly. However, one thing for sure, you like Jaehyun’s jokes better than Taeyong’s.

His choice of place for a first meeting is way beyond expectation. You would have dressed up properly if you knew Jaehyun is bringing you to a secluded private restaurant. You seal your mouth tightly about this date, yet Taeyong knows.

You come home with a bright smiling face, Jaehyun had just dropped you off from his Mercedes-Benz G65. You secretly smile to yourself and wrap your jacket tighter as you enter the lift to reach the floor. You can’t stop humming small tunes while taking steps.

With a big surprised face, you take a step back when Taeyong greets you in his stern voice.

“Why are you here?” you sound annoyed. Your mood totally jumped from hype to down.

Taeyong raises his brow, “Am I not allowed to visit my lover? Beside I came here to check if she’s here yet, since she ignored my calls and texts.” You make your way to the kitchen and fill yourself a glass of water, “Well, sorry but I have someone to see tonight,” you shrug your shoulder.

Taeyong joins you to the small kitchen, “Yeah and I just found out my girl, without my acknowledge, went to meet another man and came home—” he glances at his watch, “—late, my girl came home pretty late. It’s 10!”

You finish your glass of water, and slam the cup a bit too hard, “So what? I’m big enough to come home whenever I want and I can take care of myself.”

“Who’s that man? How are you sure he is someone good?” Taeyong elevates his tone.

You take a deep breath and speak out loud clearly, “it’s none of your business! Even I did not know who the woman you’re with yesterday was and I did not ask you anything! I did not interrogate you Lee Taeyong!” you spit those words in one breath. You toss your jacket then lock yourself in the room. Taeyong knocks on your door relentlessly and all he gets is silence.

Silence from the loudest person is the scariest thing

You wake up with heavy head, puffy blood shot eyes, and a runny nose. You force yourselfto leave the bed and calls in for a day off today. You have called Jaehyun last night and told the new man everything, something in your heart screams that Jaehyun can help and Jaehyun will not hurt you like Taeyong did. With your beloved corgi walking beside you, You open the apartment door and freeze when you see Taeyong sleeping uncomfortably on the floor.

“Babo-ya,” You scoff in your mind and leave the big baby on the floor. You make yourself a glass of tea and gul an aspirin down your dry throat. You take your time writing a short note and stick it on Taeyong’s free arm. You bend to place a soft kiss on his temple, probably your last, and secretly leave.

Taeyong wakes up from the pain his back screams for sleeping on the floor, he yawns and stretches then looks around and realizes he had fallen asleep when begging you to open the door. He sees the post it on his arm and he quickly read it. His brow scrunches as the line gets down, and finally they widen and his mouth fell. Taeyong lost his sense of touch, hearing, and sight… he feels like a thunder just hit him and he’s drowned in his emotions. He slowly sits on the sofa and re-reads the nicely written letter. He makes sure to not miss any single word or get the wrong idea. But no matter how many times he checks the letter again, the words don’t change.

“(y/n) wants us to end it here,” Taeyong speaks to himself, the blonde quickly searches the house. Hoping to find the woman he was looking for, he needs to discuss this with you. Seriously you did not need to break up over a silly matter!

“(y/n)-ie, what do you mean? We can talk about this… where are you?” Taeyong puts on his shoes and coat.

“We don’t have to discuss anything Tae. We’re not meant to be, I realized we’re not made for each other. Our parents don’t even support this relationship we had for three and a half years. It’s over Taeyong, go get that woman and I will go my way.” You explain as best as you can.

“No, We need to meet. We’re not breaking up over phone. I don’t consider our relationship over just because you decided it by yourself. We need to meet.” Taeyong grips his phone harder.

“I can’t Tae, I’m no longer near you. Bye,” you said.

Taeyong hears the faint background sound and damn that you are in the airport, where the hell are you going now without telling him.

You turn off your call and sadly stare at the wallpaper. It’s a picture of happy Taeyong and you laughing under the mistletoe from last Christmas.

“Are we ready to go?” Jaehyun’s deep voice resonates beside you. You groggily nod and copy his steps to the boarding gate. You take one last heavy breath; yes you are leaving Korea and Taeyong behind. This is what your family wants, this is for the best.

You come from the family of the leading electronic cooperation in Korea; turns out your parents had made an agreement to make you and Jaehyun an official pair. Simply said your parents arranged your marriage with Jung family for the sake of business. Your family does not have a good history with the Lee family. Both Taeyong and you had been trying your best to keep your boat sailing despite the harsh wind made by your own families, but you have had enough. Both of you used to think if you are together, you can fight your families and live happily ever after, but that’s too good to be true.

Now, your parents have made a lot of agreements with The Jung family, and that explains why you are sent to leave Korea with Jaehyun the night when you reported Taeyong’s actions. Your father used the situation to break you apart, and he partly succeeded.

Right now, you are seated on the first-class flight to Britain, with your future fiancé (That’s what your parents insisted).

The loving couple separated without a clear ending, Taeyong still lives his life to the fullest he can, but everything is pointless when you are not in his life. He did not date anyone, he still holds on to the belief that you are still his girlfriend, and he is still committed to you, he woman he loves.

His colleague has tried a lot of things to set Taeyong up with a new date, but none of them seems to win his heart. Taeyong only attends the blind dates she made, just to respect her kindness and attention. That woman herself has won the heart of the cute guy in the milkshake shop Taeyong and you once visited, Doyoung. She was close with Taeyong because she needs help with winning the cute man’s heart. The night when you went home with Jaehyun, Taeyong was actually waiting for you to explain everything. Taeyong wanted to tell you that you don’t have to be jealous of the woman, for she has her heart and eyes for another man. Fate did not let him explain anything that night, and the next day you were already gone from his life.

Taeyong changes into a cold and quiet man, while you have opened your heart to the new man. You realize Jaehyun shares a lot of things in common with you. Knowing the new tall man with dimple is easy and both of you get along so well. You spend a good two years in England, and have to return to Korea when the working contract for Jaehyun ended.

–

The plane touched down on the land of Korea, where the leaves are starting to fall and the winds getting colder. You sigh it’s once again autumn, you always hate autumn.

Jaehyun feels he needs to check the office and sends you home by yourself. You did not mind, instead you are happy you can have your time alone here.

You take the taxi to a park you missed. A small park with benches for couples to seat and enjoy the falling leaves with the big Han River across them. You breathe in the autumn leaves and slightly smile when the memories you made here with Taeyong slowly floods his mind. A small tug is felt in your heart, how is that handsome blonde doing? You walk and walk then sit at one of the empty benches, your hand traces the old wood and smile when your eyes caught a small scribble that still managed to be intact even when seasons has changed.

You trace the craving and secretly hide a smile when the memory comes back in your mind.

The writing of Taeyong and (y/n) in a big heart, deriving from four years ago. You remembered craving your names cheesily on a park bench when the first leaf fell. You scoff when you realize a lot of things you did with Taeyong are associated with autumn.

You close your eyes for a while and found yourself awaken in surprise when a familiar voice greets you.

“(y/n)?” the voice sounds unsure, “(y/n)?! It’s really you?” this time it sounds surprised and a bit happy.

You open your eyes and gulp when the same man you left without news is here again in front of you. The man you shared love, the man you secretly hate and love, the same man who used to be your happiness. He looks different! He definitely loses weight, his hair is now plain and boring brown, his eyes no longer offers the star and galaxy you used to spend your time gazing. His voice didn’t change though, still the same deep voice that never fails to make you tremble.

“Taeyong, well�� yes this is me.” you sheepishly admit.

“It’s been a while,” Taeyong opens his mouth. He takes the empty spot beside you.

“Look Taeyong, I don’t have much time,” you dare yourself to face him and hold your tears back. You almost broke down in tears when you once again sees the man you love standing here across you.

“I know it was hard for both of us, but that was the best for us. This is the best for us.” Taeyong stays quiet despite wanting to kiss you and tell you everything he kept to himself for a good two years, but no he wants to listen to you. He reflected for two years and he wanted to make up all his bad mistakes.

“Fate doesn’t let us be together… our family hates one another… we can’t… we just can’t be one Taeyong.” You bite your lips and hold your tears back. Your heart is breaking right now when you see the broken look in Taeyong’s eyes.

When you first saw Taeyong sitting beside you, you swore you saw a glint of hope in his eyes but now you completely kill it. You hate yourself for once again hurting Taeyong, but this is for their own goods.

You can no longer hold back your tears, the wall you made breaks down right in front of Taeyong. You hide your face in your hands and your shoulder moves as you express all of your bottled-up emotions. Something glints under the last rays of the sun and Taeyong moves closer to your side. He bravely takes you into a hug and he brings his thumb to wipe the crystals falling over your smooth cheeks. Taeyong cannot speak a word, his mouth goes mute all he knows is his life is completely dark now without you. It was dark already before when you left, but now when you clearly said that… Taeyong feels like dying.

“Goodbye Taeyong,” you stand up and walk to leave the broken hearted man. You turn one last time to see your unrequited love; and you force your last sweet smile, “Thank you for the memories.” you take quick steps to leave the park and Taeyong. A strong wind blows and makes the piles of orange dried leaves fly around and when it’s over. You are completely not anywhere to be seen.

Taeyong closes his eyes and memorizes the last words from his love, you left him completely now. (y/n) left his presence, his world, and his hopes. Taeyong fishes his jacket and pulls out a velvet box, he snaps it open and a simple diamond ring is shining there. Well, he’s been carrying this around since you left, he wanted to propose to you whenever he got the chance to see you , but turns out your ring finger is occupied already with the same diamond ring he had in mind will fit your slender finger. Taeyong keeps the ring again in the box and he pockets it again in his left chest. He lets his tears run through his face as he walks along with the last falling leaf.

He leaves the love of his life with tears and thousands of memories. Taeyong smiles bitterly when he remembers how you always hate autumn. Turns out all memories with you are prominent in autumn: your least favorite season.

flashback <<<

“I hate autumn Yong, can you imagine how selfless the tree is, letting the leaf die so it can live longer.” you pointed to an almost bald tree.

Taeyong pinches your cute cheeks, “Well yes the trees are selfish Sweetie, but did you see how sincere the leaves are? I’m sure the tree did not want the leaves to die, instead I think the leaf sacrifice itself so the tree can live,” you cut him, “But why Yong? Why must the leaves die for the tree?”

Taeyong holds his lover’s hand tighter in his jacket, “Because my (y/n)-ie, that way the tree can survive the harsh cold winter and make new leaf later on spring. That way the leaf and the tree are once again together!”

You nod your head, “Woah that’s a better theory! You should definitely be the one telling our kids bed time stories later on!” You cheerfully peck a kiss on Taeyong’s lips and blushes.

“Just like love, you must sacrifice for the one you love.” Taeyong leans in for another kiss.

“I love you Yong, now and forever!” You lean your head on Taeyong’s strong and wide shoulder.

“I love you most (y/n), I’ll be like the leaf in autumn!” Taeyong whispers to his world; you

The two people in different place share the same memory tonight.

As the moon shines and the first snow falls, they secretly whisper each other “I still love you.”

end

:”) thank you for reading

47 notes · View notes

alia-turin-fanfiction · 3 years

Text

Title: The Ghost on the Shore

Rating: Mature

Fandom: The Silmarillion

Additional Tags: Loss, Memory Loss, ghost - Freeform, Haunting, Death, Sorrow, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Summary: A human walks trough the beach, looking for shells and accidentally fins a ghost everyone on her village has been talking about. She ends up hearing the ghost' story, his grief and regrets, his memories about the family he has lost and the sacrifices he had made.

She walked down the shore, picking shells and digging through the cold sands, trying to find the largest. The wedding was just a week from now and she could barely find the shells she needed to make the decorations and the jewellery. Her eyes turned west, the sun was almost through and darkness would come soon. She had to go back, but that was when a song caught her ear. She looked around, but there was no one, yet the song rose with the waves and disappeared in the wind. She started walking in the direction of the song but with every step she doubted that was even real. Perhaps there was a strange echo at night, but she knew that was not true. That was an actual voice, the most enchanting voice she had ever heard in her life.

Time passed and she found herself at the furthest point of the beach she had ever been. It would take her an hour to get back home and the sun was gone now. Stupid girl, following the unknow. Then she saw it. A shape, maybe a man walking towards her. He was wearing robes that one time might have been blue, but now they were bleached from the sun and salt, mud and old sand was covering them, the fabric torn to ribbons in some places. She knew what that was. The old fishermen talked about it. The shore ghost, he could summon storms with his voice and drive sailors mad. She stepped back but she tripped on her own foot, as all the shells she had collected fell in the sand. She panicked. Damned be the shells, if that ghost could call the storm, what was he to do with her? In panic she started picking the shells, as fast as she could, she might not pick all of them, but as many as she could and then she should run. Run as fast as possible, in the night, in the darkness, until she reached her home.

“I had a brother once.” a strange voice spoke and she froze. Her eyes traced the sand to the man’s feet, he had no shoes, the skin was dry. She lifted her eyes, her teeth grinding in fear. She expected to see a terror, maybe a torn face, visible bones, gore and blood. Old fishermen said the ghost died in a storm, a ship mast hit his face and killed him, and now he wanted to do that to everyone. There was no mast nearby, but she was sure he could find something.

His face was not gore, however. Long black hairs reached way past his shoulders, his lips were cracked the same way she saw sailors’ lips cracked if they spent too much time in the wind. His cheeks were hollow, she could see the outlines of his skull, but it was still covered in porcelain skin. Long dark circles surrounded his eyes as if he had not slept for days.

“Yes.” he continued talking as he knelt, her heart was beating so fast, this ghost was going to kill her and she felt paralized. Was that his way? Was that how he did it? “He was fair, my brother. Fairer than most, at least on the outside. His heart...never mind his heart. It’s gone now, like all of them.”

She was so scared that only now she noticed that he was an elf, not human, but he was the strangest elf she had seen. Their kind sometimes came to the village to trade, but he was taller than almost any elf she had seen, his eyes were shining like gems, as unnatural as elves eyes were to her, his were completely different. Grey, cold and shining like stars.

Maglor reached for his forehead and rubbed his temples. These headaches were terrible, he would wake up and his head would be pulsing, splitting his skull in half. If he were a braver man he would smash his head in a stone and be done with it, but he could not face what came after. No, he was where he was supposed to be.

Something in front of him moved, and just now he realized he was not alone. His eyes fell on a human female, lying in the sand looking at him with terror in her eyes. He did not remember how he came to where he was. He looked behind himself. The cave where he slept was nearby, but he did not recall walking here and even seeing anyone. He was close to the human, he must have bumped into her or something but he could not recall.

“Who are you?” he got up, patting the sand of his robes. Not that it really mattered, more sand will just get stuck to him tomorrow.

The woman crawled back, shells falling from her grip, she was trying to get as far as possible from him. Maglor reached for her, offering her his hand, but then she screamed and started crawling backwards faster.

“Wait.” She made a step toward her trying to stop her, but it was too late. She hit her head on a rock behind her.

He had not done fire in a while. He was surprised he remembered how to do it. The darkness and coldness were part of him now so he did not need the light. Besides, he hated looking at the fire. Every time the flames danced he would see Maitimo, mad and broken. His eyes were fixed on the human, she was starting to awaken. Her hands reached for her head, where she had hit the stone. Slowly her gaze fixed on her and then a scream followed. The cave echoed, carrying her voice in the darkness.

“Don’t kill me, please.” she cried, trying to push herself further from him, but instead her back hit the cold stone walls.

“Kill you?” Maglor scratched his hollow cheek. “If I wanted you dead I could have left you on the sand. You would have bled to death or the wolves would get you.”

“Where am I?” His words did not seem to calm her, her body was still tense, her eyes looking around, trying to find escape. Funny, her hair reminded him somehow of Celegorm’s.

“In a cave.” Maglor answered, trying not to dwell on his dead brother’s looks. “You hit your head, I took you in.” That did not seem to calm the human. She was young, he had lost the ability to tell their age, there was a period when they all looked as if they could be sixteen or thirty. “What is your name?” she hesitated, but her eyes finally focused on him, not on everything else around. “If you want to leave, you can, but it’s dark outside and you humans have terrible sight.”

“Elean.” she finally responded. “My name is Elean. Are you a ghost?”

“A ghost?” Maglor was about to deny it but then he thought about it. He was a ghost. A shell of what he used to be, he wasn’t dead however, but he was not alive either. “Something like it.”

“The fishermen say you can call a storm.” her body relaxed a bit but she was still trying to keep away from him.

He winced. These days he could barely walk or sing, if he could call a storm that would make for good entertainment, his father might even be proud of him for once. If his father was alive and not an ashen pile or a prisoner of his own darkness.

“I’m afraid I posses no such power.” silence followed, but he could not stop thinking about how he found her. For the life of him he could nor recall how he ran into that human. It wasn’t uncommon for him to find himself wandering and forgetting how he got there, but usually he just thought he walked the sands and sang and his mind wandered. She was the first human he had seen in years and it wasn’t that he randomly saw her. He was kneeling in front of her as if he had been talking to her. “How...did you find me?'' He wasn’t sure that was the right question, but he had no idea what the right question was. He had no idea what anything was.

“I was picking shells and I heard a song...I followed the song and I saw you.” she responded slowly as if she was talking to a child unsure if her words made sense. “Then you came to me and you spoke of your brother.”

“My brother?” something in Maglor’s chest shrank. He did not remember that. How could he mention his brothers and not even remember that? “What did I say?” he asked. His voice betrayed his own fear and confusion. “What did I say?!” she shouted and she pulled back again, the fear returning.

“You...said he was fair. Fairer than most. On the outside.” her voice was shaking, her eyes frantically looking for an exit again.

He wasn’t surprised at his words, but he could not remember saying them. Why would he talk about Celegorm to a human he had just met.

“What else did I say?” his voice was calmer, but there was still that strange feeling in his chest. He did not remember any of that.

“Nothing...you said he was gone. That they were all gone.” her shoulders sank again, more relaxed. “Who are they?”

Maglor ignored the question, he had other things to worry about. His life was not worth anything for all he cared, but his mind. That was the last thing he had left. What if he was forgetting other things? Not just how he got from here to there, but what if he was forgetting who he was...what if he forgets Maitimo and Kurvo...all of them, his father, his mother. No, he could not forget them, if he forgets them, who will sing about their sacrifice, who will remember them as they truly were not as the stories made them to be?

“I was a king once.” he finally spoke, he could see in her eyes that she did not buy that. “No. I was a son of a king, then a brother of a king, then a king and then I was just me. I watched my brother burn.” his eyes stopped on the fire. He didn’t really see Amrod burn, he didn’t even know that had happened, not until Maedhros had told him. “My father set him on fire. He didn’t know.” Maglor bit his lip, the cracked skin broke under his teeth and he could taste his blood. “Then my father died and my brother was captured.”

He would never forgive himself for these years. The moment he became a king, the moment he dared take Maedhros’ place. He was broken, but in his head he thought he could do better. He would be a greater king than the great Feanor, he would be kinder than his father, more patient, he would listen rather than act...it was all rotten. His brothers barely listened to him and only when he agreed with them they did as they were told. His cousins did not want to hear about his rights and he sank. Every day was worse than the previous until Maitimo was back. Maglor did not cry when he left his wife and he did not cry when Amrod died, but that day, next to his brother’s sickbed he cried. Not of sadness, he was happy Maedhros was back, and he was happy the burden would be taken off him, but of shame. He had been too worried to be better than his father, he needed to prove he was a son of Feanor and better than the man, better than his brothers and he never even tried to save Maitimo. His brother bled and suffered and struggled and Maglor did nothing.

“My brother came back and did what I should have done. Took the crown off and gave it to someone who would wear it with pride.” years passed, friends and kin died, but it did not matter. He was with his family and his family, despite who they were and what they did was his family. Maedhros - proud and strong, with his ghostly nightmares haunting his own fortress. Celegorm, handsome and strong like any woman’s dream with the poison dripping off his heart. Caranthir, avoiding all of them, scheming away, Curufin, the copy of their father, his words and deeds making everything rot and despair and Amras, poor Amras who lost half of himself on these cursed ships.

“I had six brothers.” he continued talking, the human was looking at him with interest now. “They were great, cursed, but they were all I had. One by one they died. One in an accident, three as they were butchering our own kin, one trying to save our last hope and…”

He should have died. When Maedhros threw himself in the fire, he should have followed. He should have thrown himself in the sea and died there, but he could not. He was a coward.

“You are not a ghost.” the woman finally said.

“I am. A ghost of what I used to be, a ghost of what I was supposed to be. The ghost of my brothers’ memories and deeds, my father’s ambitions, my mother’s disappointment. I’m a ghost. But I also bleed.” Maglor licked his lips as if to illustrate his point.

In the morning Elean woke up, the elf was gone and she could see the light coming from the entrance of the cave. Her heart was heavy for that creature she found or more found her. He wasn’t a ghost, just a mad starved elf, living alone. She walked out trying to remember every stone, every dune so she can find her way back tomorrow. She would bring him food and maybe blankets.

#the simarillion #maglor #makalaure #tolkien #ghost #my writing

7 notes · View notes

ardett · 3 years

Text

Courtings and Crossroads

Description: “Have you seen my daughter?” Demeter rasps.

Hecate debates lying. She owes nothing to Demeter. Her desperation has given Hecate more mortals than ever to bring to the Underworld. But Demeter is more than the Goddess of the Harvest. She is a mother. And in her eternal life, Hecate has seen enough mothers mourn.

“I know where she is,” Hecate answers. She summons her torch and holds it to the open flames, lighting it. “You’ve been looking in the wrong domain.”

in which Hecate is Persephone's guide and companion in the Underworld

written for the @greekmythszine !

You can also read this on Ao3!

Hecate feels a twist in her gut, a warping of the natural boundaries between the Underworld and the mortal realm. Someone is crossing between the worlds. As the Goddess of Crossroads, the Goddess of Boundaries, transitions are her dominion.

She has guided many down paths of destruction and of triumph. Sailors and shepards alike burn food in her name, asking for safe passage. Sometimes she listens, letting the blaze of her torch light the way forward. Other times she does not.

Mothers and fathers pray to her when they lose a child too soon. She has led innocents peacefully into the Underworld when their bodies hadn’t undergone proper burial rites and Charon refused to ferry them.

She has never led anyone from the Underworld back to the surface.

Hecate concentrates on the feeling. She knows exactly where the line is going to be crossed.

She goes.

But when she arrives, nothing seems amiss.

The sun hangs high in an empty sky, guided by Helios’ chariot. The heat beats down on a girl in the valley. A goddess.

Persephone wanders the field. In each footstep blooms narcissus flowers and mint.

Hecate recognizes the sacred plants of Hades a moment before the ground distends and out of the gaping hole bursts the God of the Underworld. The field beneath his chariot withers and dies. The bones of his steads rattle louder than Persephone’s startled scream.

Hades snatches her from the ground.

Hecate tenses. She feels the boundary straining. She could close it but she risks much. If she gains Hades' contempt, he could stop allowing her to guide the penniless dead to the Underworld. She imagines rows of ghostly children waiting at the shore of the River Styx without the coin to travel onward to eternal peace.

Besides, the Underworld has always welcomed her when the Olympians scorned her. Zeus allowed her to retain her power, the only titan to do so when her parents, Leto and Tartarus, had been defeated with Cronus, but the mistrust from the gods remained. Perhaps it was time for the Oympians to realize what it meant to lose.

Persephone is just another innocent traveling to the Underworld. Hecate can at least make her transition easier.

Hecate twitches a finger and Persephone falls asleep in Hades' arms. The ground seals shut behind them. The boundary settles. As Hecate leaves the scene, the narcissus flowers begin to wilt.

Ten long days pass. Ten rotations of the sun and sky. Ten days of Demeter scouring the Earth for her daughter.

Demeter ravages everything that stands in the way of her search. All the while, Hecate watches. Each path Demeter traces is like a brand upon her skin. She is acutely aware of where the goddess goes and she knows that while Demeter still hunts in the mortal realm, she will not find what she’s looking for. It’s hard to pity Demeter when all Hecate sees is the destruction she leaves in her wake.

But on the tenth day, Demeter makes an offering to Hecate. The smoky scent of burning grain lures Hecate forward to the fire. No Olympian has ever given her an offering before.

When she arrives, she sees Demeter face to face for the first time since Persephone’s abduction.

Demeter is devastated. Her cheeks are wet with tears. Her hair is tangled with branches and burrs. Her hand shakes around the burning stalks of grain she’s clutching. She looks older. The lines in her face look deeper.

“Have you seen my daughter?” Demeter rasps.

“I know where she is,” Hecate answers. She summons her torch and holds it to the open flames, lighting it. “You’ve been looking in the wrong domain.”

Hecate bears her torch and guides Demeter through the darkness. They wind through forests, over hills and valleys, until Hecate’s flicking light reflects off a narcissus flower on the ground. Hecate hears Demeter’s breath catch in her throat. A footstep ahead is another, and then another, and another. The scent of mint wafts through the air as sprigs are crushed beneath their feet.

Then suddenly, the footprints stop. Demeter looks wildly around for the next one before she sees the ring of dead grass. Her face hardens.

“Hades took her,” she intones. Hecate nods but offers no other response. Demeter demands, “You can take me to her.”

“I cannot.”

Demeter takes a step forward. “You can. Do not lie to me. No gate is closed to you. You will take me to my daughter.”

Hecate doesn’t flinch. The night presses in on them as the flame of her torch begins to dwindle. “We would not survive it. Hades would end us for trespassing in his territory long before we were anywhere close to your daughter. Then what home would she return to?”

This makes Demeter pause. In her eyes, Hecate can see the glisten of unshed tears. “I cannot leave her down there.”

“You cannot save her.” Hecate gentles her voice. “Hades wants to court her. He doesn’t seek to hurt her.”

Demeter sinks to the ground, knees turning ashy gray as she kneels in the circle Hades left. Her fingers dig into the dirt. “Then I will grieve until she is returned to me.”

Hecate feels Demeter make her choice and take a turn at her personal crossroad like the breaking of a rib. Blight spreads from Demeter’s body. As far as the eye can see, plants fade to brown and shrivel. Seeds stop spouting. Life stops growing. As Hecate looks to the sky, the first snowflakes begin to fall.

The severity of Demeter’s choice takes time to set in but soon enough it becomes clear that without the Goddess of the Harvest, all of Olympus suffers. Scores of humans freeze in the bitter cold. Those that do survive don’t have enough food to spare for offerings.

Hecate tries to visit the Underworld but Hades is on edge. Even she is unwelcome in his kingdom.

Finally, Zeus intervenes. He demands that Hades return Persephone to her mother. The resolution they come to is not without consequences.

Persephone ate the food of the dead, six ripe pomegranate seeds. For the six seeds, she must spend six months of the year in the Underworld.

Demeter accepts the compromise and though the snow doesn’t melt just yet, the winter storms lessen. Hecate is surprised to smell burning grain again. She hears Demeter’s prayer to her. She pleads with Hecate to protect her daughter.

This time when Hecate tries to enter the Underworld, she slips in easily. When she begins to approach Hades' home, he appears before her, stepping out of the shadows.

“You’re awfully far from the shores of the Styx,” he states, voice low.

“Demeter sent me.”

The shadows surrounding Hades deepen. The ground rumbles. “We agreed on six months. My time is not up.”

“I know. I’m not here to take her back,” Hecate placates. “I can help with her transition. Let me act as her minister, as her companion. She’ll need one if you want her to be content here.”

Hades considers her for a moment. Hecate holds his gaze. He waves a hand and a skeleton rises from the dread soil. “He will take you to her,” he declares.

Hecate follows the skeleton into Hades' personal palace. He leads her to a grand guest bedroom. The room is decorated with the Underworld’s finest, practically dripping in the gold and jewels of dead kings, but none of it fits the goddess who’s confined there. In all the hard edges, her organic form is lost.

Persephone turns when she hears the door open. “Who’s there?” she calls from where she sits on the bed. She tilts her head. The motion is like that of a bird. “Hecate? Is that you?”

“It is. Your mother asked me to watch over you.” Hecate walks inside. She hears the bones of the skeleton click against the stone as he leaves.

“I don’t suppose you’re here to take me back, are you?” Persephone asks. Her voice is almost petulant.

“No, not yet.” Hecate notices a pile of courting gifts at the foot of the bed. Mirrors, combs, jewelry. None of them have been touched. “How have you been adjusting to life in the Underworld?”

Persephone falls back onto the mattress, her forearm covering her eyes. “Oh, it’s terrible,” she groans. Hecate tuts in sympathy, thinking of the goddess’s abduction, but Persephone continues, “The Underworld is just so dreadfully boring. I’ve never been somewhere so dull and dreary.”

“Ah,” Hecate vocalizes. She asks carefully, “And what about Hades?”

Persephone peeks up at her. “What about him?” Hecate raises an eyebrow at her. Persephone rolls her eyes and sighs. “Oh. Well, yes, the kidnapping was in poor taste. He hasn’t exactly been blessed by Aphrodite. But I suppose I’m stuck here now.”

Hecate takes a seat on the silken bedsheets besides the other goddess. “Do you think you might grow to love him?”

Persephone’s nose wrinkles. “Perhaps. Better courting gifts would be a good place to start at the very least.” She kicks at the pile and something clangs to the ground. “All this metal. Everything here is dead.”

“Yes,” Hecate concedes. “But everything that was once living is here now.

Persephone frowns. “So?”

“Maybe I’ll get to show you another time.” Hecate stands, dusting herself off. Persephone sits up.

“Are you leaving?” Her eyes are wide and green. “Will you be back? You’re the only one who I’ve talked to since he took me down here. Hades doesn’t even speak to me. He just sends gifts with his skeletons,” Persephone huffs.

Hecate is suddenly struck by how young the goddess is. All the Olympians are so much younger than her. It seems like it’s not the imprisonment that bothers Persephone so much as the loneliness. Six months to an immortal being is merely a dip in the water, the passing of an ocean wave. However, this is surely the first time Persephone has ever been deprived of her mother and the earthy wonders that she is the goddess of.

“I’ll return,” Hecate promises.

She goes to find Hades.

“You’re back!” Persephone bounds up to Hecate when she knocks on the door. She holds up a vase of yellow flowers. “Look what the skeleton brought me this morning! These are extinct on Earth.” She sniffs at them, eyes bright. A soft smile graces her lips. “I’ve missed them.”

“What a thoughtful gift,” Hecate comments diplomatically.

“Yes, thoughtful.” Persephone places the vase back on the table, arranging the flowers just so. “And entirely Hades' idea, I’m sure.”

“I’m sure,” Hecate echos.

“You know, if Hades were to have any other ideas, perhaps he should think about visiting me himself instead of sending his silly skeletons.” Persephone twirls a flower between her fingertips. “After all, how am I supposed to get to know him if we never see each other?”

“I wouldn’t want to speak for Hades but I believe he might be, shall I say, apprehensive. The circumstances of your meeting weren’t the most amenable.” Hecate gives her a pointed look.

“Perhaps I could forgive him if I could speak to him,” Persephone suggests airily. Hecate only nods.

The next time Hecate visits, the room is covered in flowers. There are even garlands strung across the ceiling. Since they are the souls of flowers, they don’t need water or sunlight to survive.

“Certainly seems like you’re doing well for yourself,” Hecate notes.

Persephone admires her handiwork. “Yes, it looks much better doesn’t?” Then she glances over at Hecate and pouts. “I must say though, you’re not doing a very good job convincing Hades to visit me.”

“He’s very busy,” Hecate contends.

Persephone huffs. “Doing what? The dead aren’t going anywhere.”

“No, but you are.”

Persephone perks up. “Is he doing something for me? What’s he doing?” she asks.

“I suppose you’ll have to wait and see,” Hecate says evenly.

Persephone groans. “Fine, if I must. As if I’ve done anything but wait.”

“Well while you continue to wait, would you like to meet Hecuba?” Hecate sits cross legged on the ground.

Persephone gives her a confused look. “Who’s Hecuba?”

“She used to be the Queen of Troy. Now she lives on as one of my familiars.” Hecate summons the black dog to her side. Persephone squeals and falls to her knees next to the animal.

Hecate managed to negotiate with Hades for Persephone’s freedom within the palace. As they walk Hecuba through the halls, she notices Persephone peer out the windows a couple times but Hades is being careful to keep his latest project hidden.

Hecate isn’t there to see the first meeting of Persephone and Hades since the abduction. That was something Hades had to conquer on his own. It seems to have gone well though because she glimpses them walking in the garden Hades built for her.

The amount of time and care Hades spent on the garden is evident. He wanted to impress her and had waited to see her again until he was finished with it. It’s a stunning menagerie against the dark landscape of the Underworld, filled with flowers both living and extinct. The paths are tiled in jewels from Hades’ personal collection. It’s a beautiful union of their two domains.

As Hecate hears Persephone laugh bubble over the grounds, she hopes for the future.

When the six months is passed, Persephone leaves Hades with a smile and a kiss on the cheek. Hecate guides her back to the surface and witnesses a heartfelt reunion between mother and daughter. Olympus rejoices and revels. The Earth thrives.

Six more months pass. A couple days before she is to leave for the Underworld, Persephone calls Hecate to her side to ask for her advice. When she arrives at Hades’ palace, she comes bearing a gift.

Hades places Persephone’s flourishing pomegranate tree in the center of the garden where it can be admired during their many walks together.

A few months later, Hades crowns Persephone Queen of the Underworld. She accepts. All of Olympus comes to witness the ceremony.

Hades sees them off at the end of the six months. Before they leave, he says to Hecate, “I’m forever grateful for your help easing Persephone’s transition. I hope you know you will always have a home here in the Underworld.”

“You could even have my old bedroom,” Persephone winks.

“That’s very generous of you. It means more than you know.” Hecate tilts her head in a slight bow. Hades returns the gesture.

Hecate has been stuck at a crossroad for an eternity, pulled between the gods and the titans, the Underworld and Olympus. At last, she has a path to travel.

#thewar #Greek Mythology #Persephone #Hades #hecate #myth retelling

6 notes · View notes