#I didn't know my writing was THAT impactful

[honeysorwell]

all of it (all of you) 

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x fem!Reader

Prompt by anon + Idea for reader's nationality by anon

Synopsis: After more than 10 years with the same hairdresser, Melissa Schemmenti must change salons.

Tag list: (Since this is my first time writing for this character, I thought it best not to tag anyone. So if you want to be tagged just let me know.)

Warning: MELISSA AND Y/N ARE MAaaaD *in Ava's voice*

Words: 4k

Synopsis of the story + Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Enjoy!

Link on AO3

Chapter 1 - Changes

Barbara Howard's friendship had a transformative impact on Melissa Schemmenti's personal life from the beginning.

The religious woman's friendship at the beginning of the redhead's career made the Italian woman rethink many things about herself. Regardless of their moral differences, how their individual relationships with religion are almost opposite, or even their small disagreements, one thing right at the beginning turned Melissa's world upside down.

The once chaotic and disorganized woman discovered the calming practicality of being hostage to well-established standards with a Christmas gift from her black coworker in her second year working at Abbott Elementary.

A schedule with a small calendar.

The year she received that gift, the redhead was furious with what was left written between the lines.

Disorganization.

After all, Melissa had absolutely everything under control.

She always had.

In her own way.

And Melissa also thought it was stupid to waste precious time that could be spent working by just planning to work, but after a terribly inconsistent semester (with more art, music and physical education teachers being fired than she can count on one hand), the redhead decided to give it a try.

So, 22 years ago Melissa started to use a schedule and a calendar every year faithfully and never looked back.

As she got older, the certainty of her upcoming appointments and how easy was to change what was needed on that sheet of paper to make better use of her time kept Melissa calm even during all the chaos that continued to live in her head and in her classroom every day. But everything changed when the spaces on pages that were reserved especially for her monthly visits to her family's hairdresser were now blank.

Rationally, the redhead knew that the hairdresser who had taken care of her grandmother's hair for the last twenty years of her life, two of her aunts out of town, washed and cared for her mother's hair every week, and three of her sisters periodically couldn't last long. But Melissa couldn't help but feel fooled and betrayed when Andrea Rossi announced her retirement.

The redhead hadn't been Andrea's client for her entire life, after all, the older hairdresser's regular clients had always been her priority. However, Melissa began to be part of the select group of Schemmenti women helped by Andrea when her former hairdresser (the one who had a Greek accent and many opinions that she hated but didn't discuss because he was her brother-in-law's friend), decided to call her Melinda, even after having her as a client for over three years.

Melinda.

Even though it was seventeen years ago, Barb still remembers the angry redheaded hurricane that entered the teachers’ lounge that week and still manages to make jokes about it whenever she gets the chance.

Monthly visits to the older woman had started with a simple hair color, but unlike her old hairdresser, Andrea had become much more than that for Melissa.

It was a ritual, a moment of care that for a long time brought her joy and confidence. It was talking animatedly with an Italian woman who showed her affection and care, something neither of them would admit out loud but was lacking in the Schemmenti family when it came to recognizing Melissa’s efforts and personal victories.

And now it was over.

��Ragazza (girl), don’t be like that… I’m old now, my hands hurt more than I can handle after a busy weekend,” Andrea tried to justify, stroking Melissa’s head with a tender smile as she finished coloring her hair that day, but which did not hide the weight of the decision.

“And what am I going to do now? Let the gray hair give me another 30 years in less than 6 months?”

“Don’t be silly! I’ve already transferred all my clients to hairdressers that I trust. You included! So stop it now!”

“I don’t want someone new.” Turning uncertainty into resistance is like armor for the redhead, even though she knows she has no choice, her brain still tries to break the meaning of Andrea’s retirement, “It’s going to mess up my entire schedule, Andrea! Two classes and now with you gone? I almost went crazy with the first semester of the year alone, now I know I’ll as soon as classes start after winter break!”

“I know that, Melissa. That’s why I talked to the hairdressers I know, and the best choice for you is Y/N, my last trainee. She’s great, hard-working, very talented and was willing to easily change her own clients’ schedule to see you at the same time I see you every month, she also works just five minutes away from here. You’ll like her.”

“But I don’t know her.” Even though she didn’t admit it, the idea of ​​a stranger touching her hair disturbed Melissa deeply, and the murmur that left her mouth made a point of emphasizing this.

The change came too quickly, and with it, a wave of anxiety took over Melissa's heart. This feeling was temporarily drowned out by her more than exhausting end-of-year routine. She was the hostess of the Schemmenti family's Thanksgiving dinner, and this, along with the end of the year, drained her ability to think about her other problems. But when the following month arrived, and along with the return to school after winter break, her colorless hair also started to show again, so Melissa swallowed her pride and went to the salon that Andrea had recommended to her.

Riverfront Roots.

The name was silly, a clear reference to the Delaware River that Melissa preferred not to think about too much as she looked at the large letters printed on the facade of the place. As soon as she entered the new salon, the smell of hair products and the sound of blow dryers buzzing caught her attention. The place was modern and well-decorated, but Melissa couldn't feel completely at ease. The smell was different, the decor was different, the voices were different, and the redhead hated each of these things.

She wasn't so reluctant to little changes in her daily life, but that week was so exhausting. The two classes together made a point of actively getting on her nerves, Gary also changed some of the lemonade brands in the vending machine and none of the new ones lived up to the taste of the old ones. The man made a point of telling the redhead that it wasn't done on purpose, thanks to the end of their relationship, and she genuinely believed him, but even so, such a change in such a tiring week only made the teacher's discomfort that Saturday morning turn into a gratuitous and deep antipathy towards the new place.

The woman of Italian descent approached the counter, where a receptionist graced her with a friendly smile.

"Hello, how can I help you today?", was the question that greeted Melissa, with a kindness that, in the redhead's mind, was completely unnecessary.

The teacher hesitated for a moment before answering sharply, ignoring the hello offered to her.

"Schemmenti. Melissa Schemmenti, please. I have a coloring booked here. A recommendation from Andrea Rossi." While the receptionist checked her information, Melissa looked around, trying to get used to the new habitat, but she barely had time to do so because, in less than thirty seconds, the receptionist escorted Melissa to a chair in front of one of the largest mirrors in the salon.

The chair that was chosen for the redhead was a little isolated from the other people present, who were laughing and talking without worrying about the noise, but if the redhead was being honest with herself, she actually preferred it that way.

“Hello, Melissa. My name is Y/N and it’s wonderful to meet you. I hope you fell welcome and comfortable here with me. Andrea has told me wonderful things about you and I have her notes in my hand to make sure you leave here satisfied.”, a younger woman with a thick accent appeared out of nowhere, vomiting the words at Melissa with a smile and a sweet voice that were already starting to give the redhead a headache.

The speech seemed rehearsed, still genuine, but her voice seemed too practiced to instill comfort in the redhead. And if that wasn't enough, the younger woman was enthusiastically waving a note in her hand like a triumph, making Melissa even more insecure about Y/N's talent than she already was.

The teacher knows she's not an idiot but… This hairdresser wasn't even thirty years old. This Y/N was clearly in her early twenties, with rich hair and a quick smile that probably lit up the room more than those stupid ringlights that surrounded the chairs in that place.

Not to mention that she was beautiful. Very beautiful.

A part of Melissa, hyper-aware of her own age, felt the bitter taste of envy take over her tongue as she looked at the younger woman's reflection in the mirror in front of her, but another part, even more recklessly, awakened a dormant desire in her mind.

However, even with that spark hidden behind Melissa's eyes, their initial interaction couldn't have been worse.

Y/N seemed excited, first asking Melissa for permission to touch her hair – something the redhead almost said no to, just to see if that smile would die on her lips – but quickly the hairdresser started discussing ideas for Melissa's hair, something that forced the redhead's voice to sound cutting:

"I just dyed my hair red for years.", Melissa made sure her voice sounded as sharp as she intended, "Get those ideas out of ya head and just do what Andrea used to."

The lack of niceness caused Y/N to feel strange, but the hairdresser tried to remain calm despite the discomfort.

New clients were always a little insecure, so the Brazilian woman would just prove to the one in front of her that she had talent.

Y/N always had magical hands. When she was still a girl, on the hot afternoons in her hometown, she would have fun braiding the hair of her school friends. Long locks of hair shiny thanks to the summer sun and strands yellowed by the chemicals of several women in the city often passed through Y/N's hands as if she were an artist molding a sculpture.

Her friends loved the hairstyles she did. At first, they were not at all sophisticated due to her young age, but they were done with so much love and dedication that they always seemed to transform any hair into something unique. For Y/N, it was more than just fun.

It was a passion.

When she reached her teen years, that passion became something more serious. Y/N was not satisfied with just doing the hair of her friends and family. The Brazilian woman wanted to learn, she wanted to master the art of transforming people's hair into something even more special.

That's why when she graduated from high school, Y/N started studying, and within a few months, she was already working professionally at a salon in her city. It didn't take long for her to be recognized for the quality of her work. Her skill with scissors and dye made her quickly stand out among other professionals. She knew what she was doing, she knew how to transform people into more beautiful versions of themselves, she knew what her clients wanted and, most importantly, she knew how to make them feel good.

Little by little, Y/N began to stand out even more and her life began to change.

She knew that her talent could not be limited, and so, when some close friends who had already moved to the United States began to encourage her to try her luck in Philadelphia, Y/N was scared at first. But if the chance to start over in another country meant more opportunities, she couldn't let this pass, even if the exciting idea had the power to scare her. But even though she was frightened, she was soon embarking on a new chapter in her life in a plane.

It was hard to save money for the travel, it was hard to get all the necessary documents to enter the USA legally, it was hard to leave loyal clients behind, and it was even harder to leave her country and its traditions. But the youthfulness of her soul and the hope of a new life embraced her heart and the hairdresser decided to give herself this chance.

Wen she arrived in Philadelphia, Y/N felt, at the same time, small and full of possibilities. The city was big, the competition was powerful, and she was seen as just another foolish immigrant.

But she was determined.

The Brazilian woman knew that her skill could be the key to a promising future. She just didn’t expect that her future would be shaped by Andrea Rossi, an older and more experienced Italian hairdresser who worked at a well-known salon nearby.

The story happened by chance. One of Andrea’s regular clients mentioned that her son had gotten a haircut from a really new Brazilian hairdresser.

“It was something very different… Like those stupid things we see on TikTok, but it was exactly what James wanted, and we had never found anyone willing to do it. What this young woman did perfectly and without thinking twice, and my son loved it!”, the woman commented in admiration before giving the older woman an idea, “You should meet her!”

Andrea was curious and, figuring she had nothing to lose, asked for more information about the Brazilian woman. The client was enthusiastic and told the Italian one everything she knew and, even though she was skeptical, Andrea let her curiosity get the best of her and decided to see it for herself.

The next day, she went to the salon where Y/N was working and, observing closely, immediately noticed the young woman’s skill. The Brazilian woman had the touch of someone who knew what she was doing, an eye for beauty trends, and the needs of her clients, but she also had more than that.

Y/N had a natural connection with people, a charisma that, combined with her smile and strong accent, made any client feel at ease, and Andrea saw that.

So the Italian woman wasted no time. She called Y/N for a chat at the end of her shift and, soon, took her on as her last pupil before announcing her retirement.

Normally, hearing Andrea Rissi's name made Y/N happy. All the advice, recommendations, affection, and wisdom shared by the older woman were a pleasant memory for the Brazilian woman.

But there, while she tried in vain to be nice to what was Andrea's transfer, having her work compared to the older woman's began to annoy her.

First, the owner of those pretty green eyes began to verbalize her dissatisfaction with the work tools Y/N used, telling her how much she preferred Andrea's work tools, which were always on display for her clients to see. Then the redhead started rolling her eyes at Y/N's coworkers, who, since they had no clients, were chatting spiritedly while planning to get their nails done at the end of the day, muttering how much she would appreciate some peace and quiet.

But the first sign Y/N gave that she was definitely not the type of person who would just ignore or shrink from Melissa's bad mood was when the redhead made a point of directly comparing her work to Andrea's before Y/N even started dyeing her hair.

"Andrea, don't part my hair like that. You'll leave my hair full of spots!"

Trying to preserve the good mood she had woken up in that morning, the hairdresser chose to be sneaky and ironic. Y/N looked around theatrically and curiously, as if she was searching for something important, and Melissa, unable to contain her fear and confusion, made her voice present.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just looking for Andrea Rossi since you want to talk about her so badly.”

Receiving only silence as an answer, and thinking that the unhappy attitude of that client was over, the hairdresser continues her journey. Y/N measures the dye with all the care in the world, making sure to double-check on the scale in front of her that the weight is correct when compared to what Andrea gave her over the phone before applying the dye accurately, fearing giving Melissa another reason to complain. The Brazilian woman divides Melissa’s hair locks with the focus of a professional with much more experience, doing everything she can to not lose a single gray hair, and when she goes to wash it, she does so with a gentleness that surprises Melissa.

But the teacher doesn’t want to admit it, so she continues to stare sullenly at the mirror, even while Y/N gently untangles her wet hair.

When the redhead’s hair is nice and completely ready to be dried, Y/N looks at her hair curiously before turning once more to Melissa’s reflection in the mirror.

“I usually do this before dyeing, but what do you think about maybe cutting a few inches? The ends are starting to lose their shape.”

“I don’t want to cut anything.”, the words are said low enough for no one but the hairdresser to hear but Y/N, but with a hint of anger that surprised the young woman, “And stop talking, your voice is too annoying for the kind of mediocre work ya deliver, kid.”

It was insensitive. Even to Melissa.

The redhead knows that Andrea would never send her to a bad hairdresser. She knows she is being harsh and critical to someone who gave her no reason to do so, but before she realizes it the words have already escaped her mouth.

But the teacher simply has no idea what was coming.

The hairdresser’s eyes widened, large pupils full of rage meeting the teacher’s gaze through the mirror, shocked by the words said by Melissa. And, before Melissa's mind can even work on instigating any remorseful reflexes, Y/N grabs a large chunk of hair from the redhead's bangs and takes a pair of scissors out of her pocket with her free hand, quickly placing them right on Melissa's forehead, exactly where her hair grows, like a more than concrete threat.

“Listen to me Philadelphia's beauty, I don't know what kind of hairdresser you expected when Andrea transferred you to me but as long as you sit in my chair you will respect my work and listen to my fucking suggestions.”, it is said as a whisper, but the hairdresser's anger and her thick accent along with the slight pull she gives the redhead's hair make the whole interaction sound indescribably scary, even to Melissa, “I've been nothing but polite and respectful to you, but I'm starting to regret accepting someone so unfortunate in my char that they think they can criticize my work without even knowing me.”

There, locking eyes with Y/N ​​in the salon mirror, Melissa understood how much she had crossed the line.

Melissa took a deep breath, filled with adrenaline at the thought of losing the top part of her hair, before nodding her head, causing Y/N to put down the scissors and let go of her bangs as she returned to work normally.

And then silence.

Dead silence.

The silence between the two women was so thick that it seemed to fill every corner of the room, making the sound of the dryer and the conversations around them sound muffled and filling the air with a corrosive feeling.

The scene from minutes ago was still boiling in Melissa's mind, repeating itself like a scratched record. Now, as if Melissa had finally come to her senses, the redhead wanted to disappear. She wanted to jump out of the chair and run away from the mirror which reflected her own guilt and shame. But she couldn't. Her anxiety combined with the idea of ​​leaving now, before the end of her service (something that could be even more disrespectful than her words), did a magnificent job holding her body in place, like an invisible chain that kept her feet on the floor and her mouth gagged.

With her fingers drumming on her apron-covered leg as the Brazilian woman prepared to style her hair, the teacher wanted to believe that it hadn't been so bad, that maybe Y/N had already forgotten what was said. But she knew that wasn't true. The weight of the moment still hung between them, thick and uncomfortable.

Y/N doesn't cut her hair or even mention the idea once again. The hairdresser just dries her red hair perfectly, but now with a serious gaze and a hurt look on her face. The Brazilian woman vehemently ignores Melissa's green eyes throughout the entire process, and the teacher stupidly decides too late that she prefers the incessant smile that remained on the hairdresser's lips minutes ago.

Melissa thought about apologizing, but the idea of ​​speaking made her breathing quick and shallow, along with the fear of seeming too desperate.

It was then that her eyes fell on the small ceramic jar in the corner of the counter next to her chair. It was decorated with hand-painted flowers and had, in crooked but legible letters, the words: "Tips for Y/N" next to a QR code. Even with the virtual possibility of compensation, the jar was open and with a significant amount of dollars, coins, and two lollipops, which Melissa just knew had been left there by a child.

And so, an idea formed, hesitant but clear in the teacher's mind.

A good tip seemed perfect, silent, indirect, but still meaningful. As the minutes passed, anxiety whispered again in Melissa's mind, wondering if Y/N would believe that she was doing this because of the guilt she felt at that very moment and not because of the regret that was now eating her mind. But the alternative of doing nothing was simply unbearable for Melissa.

The redhead knew she couldn't leave without at least trying, even if in her own way, to make amends.

When Y/N finished applying a light-smelling oil to the teacher's hair and walked away, silently letting her know that her work was done, Melissa tried to meet the hairdresser's eyes and give her a small smile, which she knew would be nervous, but which could give her an idea of ​​what was going on in Y/N's head.

But Y/N didn't look at Melissa.

When Melissa got up from the salon chair, her racing heart didn't stop her from taking two generous bills from her wallet — much more than she would usually give for just an appointment to dye her hair— and walking over to the pot. Her fingers were shaking slightly, but before anything could be done, she was interrupted:

“I don’t want your tip.” Before the two hundred dollars could enter the ceramic pot with the Brazilian’s name written on it, Y/N placed her own hand over the top to the object, successfully blocking Melissa from doing what she intended.

“M'kay. Now you’re being ridiculous!”

With those words, the hairdresser's eyes finally focus on the green ones again, still filled with an anger that Melissa rarely sees in people who have a disagreement with her (too used to the regretful and submissive ones) and the redhead was shocked by this when Y/N actively chooses to ignore her accusation by saying:

"I'm willing to give you the exact coloring mixture that Andrea developed for your hair so you can find a hairdresser who is like the silent imitation of Andrea that you are looking for.", and before the redhead even has a chance to answer her with an apology that would apparently be necessary, the hairdresser quickly collects everything that was used in the teacher's service and directs Melissa a few more words before walking away without looking back, "Call the salon when you want the measurements and the receptionist will share them with you with pleasure. Have a good rest of your day."

[anintelligentoctopus]

imagine if the new dashboard post layout with the icons inside the posts made making fake posts convincing even easier haha would that be fucked up or what

12 notes

🎹 breadboxed reblogged walterneff November 3, 1957

🍺 duffys-tavern-official Follow February 19, 1957

if anyone saw playhouse 90 last week... well, not to name names but as someone from new york who has worked in television (and specifically in live comedy) i'll just say that when it comes to certain big names on your screens sammy hogarth is not as far from the truth as you might think jsyk

🎶 johncharlesdailynews Follow February 20, 1957

It's Milton Berle, folks

#as someone who until recently also worked in television yeah it's definitely milty

4,741 notes

🌄 steinbecked Follow November 3, 1957

if i was john cassavetes i think i'd fall in love with sidney poitier too

1,649 notes

🚬 l-s-m-f-t reblogged theshadowknows November 3, 1957

🎀 we-have-the-stars Follow July 17, 1957

friendly reminder not to ship jj hunsecker and sidney falco they are super toxic and are they really the impression you want to be giving the public about homosexuals

🚬 l-s-m-f-t November 3, 1957

have you ever been outside

#firstly of course they're toxic that's the POINT that's fun of it #secondly i really don't think fan writers writing about burt and tony breaking the production code #are having much impact on public opinion

8,435 notes

🎙 orson-well-i-never reblogged getyourkicks November 3, 1957

🥒 pickleinthemiddle Follow May 15, 1955

he rock on my hudson until i bend of the river send post

🧶 herockonmyhudsonuntili Follow May 19, 1955

hey

4,861 notes

🦩 neddieseagooned reblogged louisianagayride November 3, 1957

🌹 i-like-ike Follow October 8, 1957

just a reminder to keep an eye out for possible communist interference in next year's midterm elections we have evidence of communist subversives trying to influence our free and democratic institutions if anyone is telling you not to vote or to vote third party because the democratic party aren't progressive enough they are trying to undermine your liberty no only kidding but i had you there for a minute didn't i

🥀 i-lick-ike Follow October 9, 1957

;-)

🌹 i-like-ike Follow October 9, 1957

don't know as i like that url

15,205 notes

📻 eddie-anderson reblogged mrs-calabash November 3, 1957

🎷 bebopappreciator May 12, 1954

here's how adlai can still win

8,859 notes

🐱 bisexualphilipmarlowe reblogged homophobicsamspade November 3, 1957

🪀 henrywallace Follow April 30, 1952

alan ladd and humphrey bogart: manlets or a short kings? greatest series of letters to the editor in the history of publishing ended by the editor after 8 months of furious letter writing

🪀 henrywallace Follow April 30, 1952

is mickey rooney a manlet? letters page discussion ended after one week after everyone agreed

🦆 captains-balding Follow January 14, 1957

rip humphrey bogart, the greatest short king of them all

🪀 henrywallace Follow January 14, 1957

BOGIE FUCKING DIED??

#thank god that's not how i found out

73,652 notes

🎼 take-the-a-train reblogged bodyandsoul November 3, 1957

⚾ waittilnextyear Follow October 7, 1957

walter o'malley it is on sight motherfucker

🌴 copacabanaset Follow October 12, 1957

be sore at robert moses pal he's the one who wouldn't let o'malley build the dodgers a new stadium in brooklyn

⚾ waittilnextyear Follow October 13, 1957

brother i've got two hands

#then who'll be fucking sorry

3,276 notes

🌆 gillespies reblogged take-the-a-train November 3, 1957

🌳 milestogobeforeisleep Follow September 7, 1957

not to be insensitive but some of the huac hearings were so funny fellas like ‘i saw sterling hayden at the communist party meeting!!!’ brother... what were YOU doing at the communist party meeting 👀

✒ lesbianeffieperine September 18, 1957

Does John Garfield mean nothing to you people

#yeah yeah 'brother what were YOU doing at the communist party meeting' People Lost Their Livelihoods Sally but yeah. big joke.

3,477 notes

🌲 worksprogressassministration November 3, 1957

kind of a milf. reblog.

[annab-nana]

note: this is a blurb i wanted to write using a prompt from the winter wonderland sleepover because i wanted to add rooster to my masterlist.

prompt: “Don’t you ever do that again!”

warnings: not proofread, basically a rewrite of one of the scenes in top gun maverick but reader is taking maverick's place

❀ masterlist ❀

you first thought it was bad when rooster ran out of flares and you had to swoop in to cover him with your own. you then realized it got worse when you felt the impact of the missile slamming into your engine. it only continued to go downhill from there.

now, you were running through the snowy forest trying to get to rooster. you thought you'd lost him for a second earlier and your efforts had been for nothing when his fighter took a hit. however, relief soon found you when you saw his parachute. when you laid eyes on him, he was pulling off his parachute and beginning to bury it.

one second, you were filled with concern for him.

"are you okay?" you shouted as you ran closer to him.

"yeah, i'll manage."

the next second, you were angry.

your body showed no signs of slowing and you ran right into him with purpose, pushing him down.

he took off his helmet and looked at you incredulously. "what the hell?"

"what are you doing here?" you asked, your anger clear in your tone.

rooster had never felt more confused. "what am i doing here?"

"yes, what are you doing here? i didn't take that missile for you to be down here with me. you should be back on the carrier by now!" your eyes held a blazing fire that rooster had never seen before.

his brows dropped to a furrow as he tilted his head down a bit more to be at your eye level. "i saved your life."

"i saved your life," you challenged loudly, taking a step closer to him. "what the hell were you thinking?"

rooster inched closer as well, very much invading your personal space, but neither of you cared. "mav told us not to think!"

"i know!" you cried out, "why do you think i did that?!"

"i don't know, but don't you ever do that again!"

there was an intense moment between the two of you as you stared one another down. your breaths mingled together due to your proximity and your chests rose and fell quickly with them. both your eyes and his bounced between the others, each of you waiting for the other to do or say something.

it was ultimately you who broke the staring match.

it was like your body was acting before your brain could tell it what to do. you stepped the last little bit closer and wrapped your arms around his neck, letting out a sigh you hadn't realized you were holding in.

rooster wasted no time in circling his arms around your waist.

"you scared the shit out of me," you whispered, squeezing him a little tighter.

rooster's light chuckle made you feel a little bit better. "you scared the shit out of me first," he uttered before pulling back ever so slightly to look you in the eyes. "are you okay?"

"yeah," you tell him, trying to inspire confidence, though your voice doesn't match your intentions. you're scared and you know he is too, but you can't be scared right now. you both need to get back to the carrier. "so, any ideas on how to get out of here?"

"i was kind of hoping you had something," rooster commented, a small grin on his lips, "there's a reason your callsign is murdock. you're our daredevil. one of your crazy plans would be great right now."

a light laugh fell from your lips as you both pulled away fully from each other. your eyes search the trees around you while you wait for inspiration to strike. then, it hits you.

"if a crazy plan is what you want," you preface, reaching for rooster's arm to pull him in the direction you were going, "then a crazy plan is what you will get."

remember to support writers & reblog :)

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[coralhoneyrose]

I was wondering: what do you imagine Robin's childhood was like? Did feh change that in any way?

Oooh what an interesting question! Admittedly, I haven't thought about this in extensive detail, but I do definitely have Some Thoughts™️.

So, we obviously don't get much to go off in canon. Validar says that Robin's mother was "seized by weakness and fear" and that "she betrayed us—stole you from your crib, and fled with you in the night!" and then adds that he knows "naught of [Robin's] life thereafter". Presumably the 'us' there is referring to the Grimleal…and if she betrayed them as a collective group she must have been a part of said group previously. The fact that Validar says she stole Robin from their crib also implies that she ran away with them sometime between birth and age 3-ish.

If she was trying to get away from the Grimleal, I assume she would have wanted to leave Plegia if at all possible. We know that the last war between Ylisse and Plegia ended about 15 years before the start of the game, though. So if we assume Robin is about the same age as Chrom (19) then that would have put Robin around four years of age when the war ended. So either Robin's mom was trying to make do in Plegia for a while, or they potentially hid out in Ferox for a time. When it comes to my personal writing, I admittedly like to play with those timelines a bit, but that's my best guess for how things went down in game.

Either way, I assume they probably lived an extremely nomadic life style. They couldn't risk being found, which means they also couldn't really risk putting down roots or settling in one place long term. I imagine Robin was probably very lonely growing up, as all that moving around and having to lay low would mean they didn't have much of a chance to make friendships with other children. Presumably the trend continued into their adult life too given that no one in the story (aside from Validar) ever recognizes Robin or remembers them from prior to when they met Chrom. If that's something that was so lacking in their life previously, I think it makes the game's messages about the importance of the connections we choose all the more meaningful. Also I am just really partial to the idea of Robin being touch starved prior to meeting the Shepherds and Chrom's subsequent touchiness and familiarity with them taking them completely by surprise as a result haha

Honestly I suspect a lot of that is why they came to love books so much too. The books were an escape to other worlds but they would have been a small slice of stability as well, since a story is the same every time you read it. They may not have had friends in real life, but the characters in their books would have always been there for them between the pages. I imagine Robin got very good at amusing themself too and probably had a very rich imagination growing up. The fact that they traveled to so many different places may also have played into them developing their strong sense of curiosity.

I'm sort of undecided on what point in Robin's life I imagine that they lost their mother / how exactly they lost her. That's one of the things that's always really interesting to see other fan's interpretations of, as there are a variety of interesting possibilities there. Either way, given that Robin's inability to have made many connections outside of their mother, I imagine they took it incredibly hard.

As far as if FEH impacted my interpretations in any way, I would say it didn't really change them, but that it did fill in some details for me! Robin's coat being visibly too big for them strongly implies it was a hand-me-down from their mother for one thing (which I'd sort of assumed before but never had direct confirmation of). I'd also been very curious just how much Robin understood about who they were on the run from / why they were hiding, so hearing that their mother cautioned them to keep their hand hidden and that they do seem to have some sense of that being the source of their power as well as 'an evil omen of an unlucky fate' was very interesting as well.

That's everything that comes to mind at the moment! ASfhsdf I like that I started by saying I haven't thought about it in extensive detail and then proceeded to type all of this up...But honestly, writing all my thoughts out wound up being super helpful for organizing them. It also has my chrobin brain-cell vibrating at high speed going into the weekend, so you have my gratitude, anon! Thank you for giving me such a prime opportunity to talk about one of my favs <3

[collapsedglasshouses]

TANGLED THREADS [Noah Sebastian x fem!reader, Nick Ruffilo x fem!reader]

COLLEGE!AU

CHAPTER TWO: TAKING THE LEAD SUMMARY: Nick knows. And he won’t let it slide. PAIRING: Nick Ruffilo x fem!Reader; mentions of Noah Sebastian x fem!Reader WARNINGS: SMUT, MDNI, 18+ [unprotected p in v, degradation, rough sex, …], no mentions of reader’s name, angst, reader is toxic, toxic dynamics, nick is a meanie but he kinda is right, mentions of nick and reader thinking about noah during intercourse, swearing, its not entirely proofread (ill do it eventually, pinky promise …) WORD COUNT: 2.2K A/N:Holy hell. My brain hurts after writing this. Nick finally made a proper appearance!!! I don’t even know what to say. There is one part left, but don’t ask me when it will come out. Hope you enjoy! Bye bye. READ PART ONE HERE.

You knew it was stupid. You knew you were incredibly stupid for doing what you were doing these past few weeks. You were so deep in this tragedy that the thought of calling your mom had slipped your mind for a reasonable amount of time, but you quickly realized that you were not quite ready to tell your mom that you had slept with two guys in the span of four weeks who, to make matters worse, were also best friends.

You wanted nothing more than to leave what had happened behind you, but for some reason you kept coming back to that one particular moment. Your thoughts revolved around that one night that changed everything. Nick had called you that night to catch up on your day, and you had asked him outright if he was in love with you. You wanted to be the bigger person, wanted to show Noah that you were really just casual with Nick, but when he did not answer right away, you felt something crack inside of you. You liked Nick. Maybe a little too much for your own good.

On the other hand, you really didn't know where to put Noah. You had noticed the way he looked at you before something had even happened between you. You saw how he always seemed a little too close to be just friendly with you. You had noticed the way he looked at you when you were with Nick, and somehow you understood how he felt.

It must have felt similar to the first time you saw him and Nick in that bar. They felt like this unbreakable team. Like a duo that really cared and loved each other no matter what. You had sworn to yourself that you would not try to challenge their bond, but when Nick kissed you just a few days later, you knew it was too late. You were already far more invested than you should have been.

You liked to think of yourself as rational and collected, but you really couldn’t understand the actions you had participated in, these past few weeks. You had sworn to keep your distance, even skipping classes to avoid Noah, but somehow he kept slipping right back into your life. Or literally… into you.

Not once had the two of you talked about Nick as if his name was a curse. But you soon realized that you were stupid to think that Nick would just let it go.

The air in your room was tense as Nick stormed in angrily. There had been weeks of silence and tension since your breakup, but this night would be different.

You sat on the bed, your legs crossed and your eyes fixed on the papers you had to finish soon. You knew exactly why he was here, but you weren't quite ready to face it.

"Please tell me you're joking." Nick hissed, his eyes glittering with anger.

"What?" You asked, your eyes still glued to the screen. Then he threw something at you. You jumped at the impact before examining the piece of cloth. A small piece of black lace with a little heart on the waistband. It was your panties. You vividly remembered the last time you had worn them. You had stood outside Noah's room that night like a desperate little shit.

Your eyes darted to Nick's angry face and back to the garment. Inside you were screaming, but there was also this intense anger bubbling up inside you.

"Could you explain to me why you think it is necessary to snoop through people's things and then barge into my room like that? I have things to do." You exclaimed as calmly as possible while throwing your panties to the floor.

"You know exactly why I'm here. You slept with him, didn't you?" It wasn't really a question, but an accusation that dripped from his lips like poison.

"So, what? The last time I checked, we weren't serious or exclusive." You answered him, the annoyance you felt lacing your words. It still stung. Thinking about how he had gotten to you and how pathetic you were to think he really wanted a real relationship with you. With Noah, things seemed easier. You knew something was there, but neither of you felt the need to talk about it, and you liked it that way.

"He's my best friend, for fuck sake." He said, his eyes cold and distant. If you weren't so sure that this had to do with his ego being bruised, you might have misinterpreted it as some kind of vulnerability.

He took two big steps to stand in front of your bed and leaned down slightly, causing you to close your laptop. "You knew it was wrong. You knew how he felt about you."

You quickly got up from your bed and looked him in the eyes with a fake smile. "And now? It's not like it stopped you from fucking me anyway, knowing damn well how he felt."

Nick clenched his jaw as he studied your face. Neither of you dared look away.

"To be honest, it sounds to me like you are jealous that he actually had the courage to show me how he felt." You almost spat the words in his face.

His gaze darkened, but that only made you ramble on. "Or maybe you're angry that he can get me off a lot faster than you can."

"You're a fucking whore, you know that?" He whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

You didn't flinch at his words, but leaned forward, his warmth radiating off your body. "And you're a fucking hypocrite, Ruffilo."

His eyes traveled to your lips for such a brief moment that you almost missed it. Anger was written all over his face, but there was something else you noticed that made you raise your eyebrows in surprise.

"Wait." You murmured, a small and mocking grin finding its place on your features. "This shit turns you on, doesn't it?"

Nick didn't say anything, but didn't dare to move away from you either, while you started to snicker bitterly. "You're seriously calling me a whore when you get all aroused at the thought of Noah and me together? "You're pathetic."

Nick was silent, breathing heavily through his nose as he stared down at you with such intensity that you could almost feel the weight of his eyes as they bore into you. His hands were clenched into fists and before you knew it, he had grabbed your wrist and was pushing you against the wall next to your bed.

“Noah just doesn’t know how to deal with your fucking attitude.” Nick hissed, bringing you so close that your lips almost touched. You met his eyes, the warmth spreading through your body, while your heart still leaped with pride.

"Noah has a bigger dick than you." You answered him, knowing it was childish, but you wouldn't let it go.

"Yeah, that's a lie." He breathed. "Maybe you need a reminder."

"Noah has a bigger dick than you." You answered him, knowing it was childish, but you wouldn't let it go.

"Yeah, that's a lie." He breathed. "Maybe you need a reminder."

With a quick move, he had turned you around. You leaned your hands against the wall for support as you felt Nick's breath against your neck. You tried to stifle a moan as his hand traveled over the curve of your body, but failed miserably. You cursed yourself internally for wearing only your thinnest shorts, making it harder and harder to ignore his touch against your lower abdomen.

“You still wanna tell me about Noah?” He asked as his hand slipped through the waistband of your shorts, teasing you.

“As if you wouldn’t like it.” You tried to say as confident as possible, while his hand slipped into your panties. 

“Aw, look at you. You’re so invested in Noah that you’re already soaking wet for me and I didn’t do shit.” He mocked you as his finger teasingly flicked over your clit. A stuttering breath escaped your mouth.

“Fuck you.” You hissed, but you also weren’t thinking about stopping him in the slightest. 

“Don’t be like that, princess. We both know you love this.” He snarled in your ear before retrieving his hand, causing you to shiver. You were about to push away from the wall, when you heard him hiss: “Don’t you dare.”

It merely took seconds for him to get you out of your shorts and also get rid of his pants. He kicked your feet further apart, one hand placed on your waist, the other lining up his hard dick at your entrance. You felt precum leak onto your leg, causing you to suppress another moan and you felt how you arch your back in his direction, without even realizing it.

“Look at you. All of the sudden, all desperate for my cock.” He said, as he slowly pushed inside of you. “You can brag about Noah all you want, he still can’t fuck you like I can.” With that he bottomed out, groaning quietly.

You clenched around him. Of course, he was right. But you would rather run into an open fire than admit that to him. You bit down on your lip when he started to move, his pace immediately as brutal as his emotions.

You wanted to say something. You desperately wanted to put him into his place, but you were too busy trying to lower the pleas that left your mouth, while your pussy throbbed with the burning need to come.

You gasped for air, fighting to speak up under the intense pressure of his cock, but nothing besides whimpers came out.

“I see why Noah couldn’t resist you. I think we both like it a little too much to see you fall apart like this.” Nick tried to hiss, but his words came out as a moan. You clenched your teeth, not wanting to moan out his name, as his right hand dropped from your waist onto your swollen clit.

“You sound like the desperate little slut you are.” Nick mocked you as heavy breaths left your mouth. You sputtered, one of your hands leaving the wall to grasp onto his wrist as if it would save you from falling apart.

“Tell me… Who do you think makes you come harder?” Nick whispered in your ear and your mind betrayed you. For a split second you thought about the two of them together. You wondered if they would try to compete against each other. You remembered how Noah’s tongue felt against your clit and with what precision he carried out his acts in comparison to Nick.  

The image alone of Nick and Noah sent you flying over the edge. “Nick - I…” you stuttered, your voice strained. “I’m gonna…” 

“Come on.” He almost ordered, his finger flicking over your clit in fast motions while he hammered into you. “Come on my dick just like you did on his.”

You let out a sharp cry as your head hit the wall, thighs shaking violently as Nick’s hips went on in his brutal pace. You tensed up, your vision becoming blurry as you moaned out his name in a repeating and pleading manner. Nick, in the meantime, didn’t stop, fucking into you in overstimulating manner. 

You felt how his nails dug into your hips, causing you to gasp for air immediately. It felt like something was missing to tip him over, when an idea shot in your head.

“The night…” You breathed out. “when he first fucked me, I was wearing your Limp Bizkit hoodie.” Your voice was so hoarse and quiet, you first weren’t sure if he heard you, but all of the sudden, he let out a groan.

“F-... Fuck you.” He cried out, his hips stuttering ever so slightly, while his grip on your hips became bruising. Without another warning he spilled into you so violently, you could feel each hot splash painting the walls of your pussy.

With a deep breath, he leaned against your back, his head resting on your shoulder. 

It took the two of you a few long minutes, before anyone dared to move or talk. You were sure if he suddenly decided to move, you would simply collapse to the ground. 

“You know, Noah would-...” You wanted to annoy him even more, but he quickly cut you off. “I swear to god, if you say his name one more time.”

Something in his tone had changed though. He wasn’t as angry anymore as he used to be. If you had heard right, he even let out a small snicker.

It took another minute, before Nick slowly pulled out of you, causing you to take a deep breath. You felt how his cum slowly started dripping down your thighs, but you couldn’t care less.

You silently cleaned up and got dressed again, before facing each other. 

“Noah told me, by the way.” Nick confessed, causing you to raise your eyebrows. “He did?”

“Yeah, and we both think the three of us have something to talk through.” Nick then exclaimed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. You started to pick the skin on your index finger, not knowing what was about to come, but you slowly began to nod.

“Text us when you’re ready.”

That was the last thing Nick said, before stepping out of your dorm without looking back. 

There was no way you could ignore that now.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

TAGLIST: @measuredingold @cncohshit @circle-with-me @jilliemiw86 @justeli6 @sitkowski @exitwoundsx

[maryelmodest]

I'm going to write something down anyway, because I really want to do it and share it...

✨️✨️✨️I was literally saved by Metalocalypse, and in particular, ironically, by William Murderface!✨️✨️✨️

There will be a very long stream of thoughts here...if you read this to the end, I will be glad, because it is incredibly important for me to share such intimate feelings...

● Back in 2018, I had no idea that this show would have such an impact on my personality and self-expression, I was just a little bored in the summer, and I decided to watch this show...And that moment has come...

● And... I just got fucking carried away, it's perfect-comedy, high-quality metal music, and of course-damn interesting characters who have a written story-it's the perfect combination of everything that I liked in the fictional stories, what I wasn't looking for, but what I needed!

● It was from that very moment...I just lost my mind...maybe it wasn't noticeable to others, but for me personally, internally, yes, I changed my mind-that's when I started an Instagram page, I shared drawings, and oh my God, I even started communicating with people of interest (before, I wouldn't have had the heart to even write to someone first or leave a comment lol), now I know a lot of artists in the fandom, and a lot of people know me, and even fan for me, lol (if the young me had known where I was going because of some cartoon about stupid metalheads (lovingly💖💖💖))

● But, one character stood out especially vividly for me, like a star in a dark sky, like the sun among dark clouds, like a guardian angel, like a prince, like a knight in shining armor, he came into my life-William Murderface❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥✨️✨️✨️

● Maybe at this point someone will call me crazy, but somehow I don't give a fuck now, at first, by the way, accepting the fact that I was in love with him had very big problems, and even selfshipping...

● But, somehow miraculously, I didn't even notice at what specific moment I began to draw a lot not only of him, but also, oh my God, of myself with him!

● He's still my main muse all day long hahahaha!🥰🥰🥰💖💖💖💝💝💝

● Well, you all know perfectly well that I am very madly in love with him, and literally from every social network where there is my profile, I shout about it, but I will tell you something else now...

● The fact is that Willy gave me a very important piece of character that is incredibly important in life-to be brave, to be assertive when necessary, to stand up for yourself, not to be afraid to express your emotions (although I'm still working on it, but now I'm doing better with it), express myself (I literally wore only black all through school and didn't even decorate myself in any other way lol) and my creativity as often as possible, he also taught me to relax when necessary, as well as to look at some things easier (I'm also still working on it, but it became much easier for me to do it by thinking about him), and most importantly-don't give a shit what others think about me or my actions, even though Willy has self-esteem problems himself, but I always damn like it when, despite everything, he doing some shit anyway, because he wanted it hahaha!

● I... it's just that I was so damn closeted mentally before when I was a kid...and I didn't even see that as a problem...and now I look back, and I realize that it's really sad...I just felt that my soul was asking for something completely different, and I didn't understand what exactly...

● It was Willy who kept giving me that feeling of security and confidence that I've been missing in my life...it is at times when I have no strength left-I still know that he is next to me, and therefore everything will be fine with me, no matter what! :3

● Even if I am completely abandoned or abandoned by others...He'll always be with me, I'm sure of it...because I would have done the same for him...

● I would give him all my love, teach him to love himself no matter what, not to give up, to see the beauty in himself and in this world...💗💗💗💖💖💖💝💝💝❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥🎀🎀🎀

● It seems to me that this is exactly the dynamic of my selfship, we will open up like a rosebud next to each other! :3🌹🌹🌹

● In general, he is very important to me...For me, he's not just a character anymore...

● Thank you, my sweet little tiger cub, I love you very much and I will always love you...Even though it really fucking hurts when I miss you...Even though you'll never know how I feel, because you're not real...

● I will remain devoted to you anyway...because that's exactly what's right...the most right and correct decision in my life...✨️✨️✨️💘💘💘

[howling-medic]

I read this yesterday (2 days ago? Time is confusing and a construct), and I had to step away and pick my jaw up off the floor. I queued the post and intended to return before it actually posted and add commentary. I have lost my original queued post that has long since been posted now, so I'm starting over with a fresh post. I would apologize for the essay length commentary and general praise I'm about to write... but I do not beg your forgiveness. It's not often that I read something that impacts me this much, so I will simply do this and continue on my merry way:

I have now had sufficient time to process and go back and reread this masterpiece. Zara, my friend, you have reduced me to tears twice with this piece, and I now have a very concerned 70 pound dog curled on my lap who refuses to accept that I'm okay.

My gods, woman. This is impeccable. It was soul crushing and healing all in one. The imagery and connections drawn across multiple mediums and genres? Brilliant.

I know you were worried about using too much jargon or leaning too far towards essay style writing vs scholarly writing, and I think you found the middle ground perfectly. Of note: I'm also a nerd who reads journal articles for fun, so I would happily read either end of that spectrum; however, this balance suits your message and the interplay of prose and analysis incredibly well.

You wove in your own narrative thread to the analysis brilliantly. Each section exponentiated the impact of the others, and it flowed perfectly.

I have to take a second, and probably multiple hundred words, to pull some quotes and try to dissect this piece of perfection, or at least highlight some of its most impactful ones. Maybe draw on some personal reasons they stuck out. Who knows. It's 0451 at the time I am writing this, and I'm uncaffeinated. We're operating on vibes alone.

I am not only Elrond's wife, I tell her. And I am not only the taking.

This was the first place I cried. There are a lot of reasons I had to stop and walk away from my computer when I read this line. "I am not only Elrond's wife," hits home in a way that I will talk about more in a piece I'm writing, but I have lived perpetually as Medic, daughter of [redacted] and Medic, sister of [redacted] (daughter and sister being their own issues to comment on another day). Oh so rarely am I my own person. To see that refutation set down in black and white so simply, to see someone say it so definitively, brought me to a screeching halt. Suddenly, I was Celebrían while also being back in that motel room where I first found her footnote - running for my life.

"And I am not only the taking." I knew what I might remember when I read this series. I knew what I would likely feel. The soul crushing feeling of helplessness this dragged up in me made me nauseous. The rawness of that line evokes is incomparable. The sheer defiance in it. The refusal to be reduced down to one moment. It set up everything to come perfectly. At the time I didn't necessarily know that was where we were headed because your narrative wandered and allowed a gradual build, but once the destination became clear, I had to return to that line as a whole and read it several times over.

In these timeless interruptions, despair is not dark and silent but “dazzling green”, dancing across the screen.

[In a time and place where I wonder when it will be illegal to be myself, I will strive to remember to keep despair "dazzling green" and keep "dancing across the screen.] However, outside the personal, and in the context of the essay, the tie back to the Elessar and the way this sentence began to pull everything into focus for me. The parallels between Celebrían and queerness was unexpected and worked seamlessly. I still don't have adequate words to describe the moment I first read that paragraph as a whole, actually.

[I could probably pull out something from every paragraph because this entire piece was a hyper-concentrated emotional and intellectual gut punch of the best kind, so I'm going to force myself to choose like one or two more lines I want to talk about for the sake of brevity. lol. Ain't that cute of me to say now? Brevity came and went a few hundred words ago.]

Put simply, the cinematic courtesan frames death, failure and grief as an aesthetic performance, one full of joy and decadence. Her dances and laments, aesthetically pleasing events within a self-professed arena of death, performed by dying women, are a re-capacitation of destroyed bodies: sexually and societally persecuted, yet capable of creating beauty.  A society that allows a group of people to live in a state of perpetual dying is a failed society; hence the courtesan’s embrace of death and embodying of corpses evidences the difficulty of queer survival in a heteronormative world. In this domain, immortality is nothing but a death scene drawn out for eternity.

I - ma'am - I couldn't even choose one part of this to pull out. I tried, and I couldn't. Remember when I said this was deeply healing? This. This. This was the first time I felt a piece of myself put back in place. I could analyze this, sure. I could, but I don't feel like it needs anything else said.

The texture of it is familiar, yes, but the shape remains strange. The bees have formed their comb around an irregular thing, one which turns the whole hive into a glowing, radiant, discoloured thing. The octagons of the comb wrap around over and over the object, another second skin I am meant to peel off, and it is harder than I thought it might be, as if the strange object belonged in the comb.

The perfect echo back to the chrysalis, the perfect echo back to the first mention of the beehive while sitting with Elrond, which seemed like such an odd and lovely little note at the time. I am in awe. The comb being harder to pull off than she expects? How indescribably perfect, and so true. So incredibly true. It was the perfect payoff from small moments scattered throughout. That moment of realization for Cel, for the reader....for one's soul.

Gods, I've waxed poetic for long enough. I can't thin it out, though, and I could write something about nearly every line.

TLDR: This was a triumph, and I am bookmarking it to turn back to on dark days.

Fun stuff from Dr. Balls — an essay collection published on the Silmarillion Writers Guild across the upcoming year that intertwines fanfiction and nonfiction in the pursuit of Celebrían + most women in the legendarium turn up at some point ✨

Head over here or click ‘Read More’ below for a brief introduction to and overview of the essays in the collection, which can all be read independently. Fans of Crablor and Mr. Balls, you will enjoy Chapter 5 & 6, which should be out in the summer.

—————

“But there is also something deeply strategic in the act of spectacle. To make a ‘lost woman’ like Celebrían into a vast, operatic, hyper-visible character is to place her where she cannot be ignored… no longer dependent on the fragile benevolence of the archive. She becomes impossible to overlook. Across this collection, Celebrían will be written, rewritten, and repeated, until her absence is not only rectified but reversed — until she looms larger than the moment of violence that defines her. To put it bluntly, she takes her story back, and does whatever the hell she wants with it.”

The introductory essay, ‘Dazzling Despair: Life, Death and a Spectacularly Lost Woman’ considers the radical potential of performing one’s own ‘death’. On the fictional front: Celebrían’s search for the Elessar transforms loss into an act of deliberately poetic spectacle.

Read ‘Dazzling Despair’ here.

Would honestly love to hear what you think of this so far — feel free to comment here or DM me as well. I really want to make sure my tone isn’t too jargon-y and that it flows well: combining fanfiction and nonfiction is something I haven’t done before.

Introduction and Overview

An Elopement with Life is a 9-part essay collection that intertwines literary fanfiction with the nonfiction essay form, exploring the idea of a Celebrían who stays in Middle Earth.

The fictional narrative follows a year in the life of Celebrían who, across conversations with various 'lost women' of the legendarium, makes the deliberate choice to not-sail to Valinor. The essays use Celebrían and “courtesan laments” as a general framework but traverse a wider thematic landscape, engaging with historiography, investigative environmental journalism, and critical queer/disability theory to unpack how mythic and literary narratives shape our understanding of loss, resilience, and reclamation.

The introductory essay Dazzling Despair considers the radical potential of performing one’s own ‘death’, as Celebrían’s search for the Elessar transforms loss into an act of deliberately poetic spectacle. The Art of Dying Twice deconstructs Lúthien’s legendary defiance, revealing how even the most celebrated figures of resistance may be vexing in their contradictions. Sea-cure is an intertextual meditation on the sea’s ambivalence—both vessel of liberation and instrument of dispossession—as Elrond attempts to communicate with the Valar across an unfathomable divide. The Poster Child examines the distortions of historical memory, positioning Celebrían as an uneasy object of mythmaking who must navigate her own commodification into a cautionary tale, paralleling a “poster child” in narratives of disability.

The collection then shifts toward a mode of speculative investigative journalism with The Crab-Eaters and The Crab-Saviours, in which Celebrían, Arwen, and the elusive Fëanorian wives cross paths with an eccentric cryptid who runs a farm of extinct-yet-not-extinct shellfish, mirroring the author and their partner’s real-world pursuit of brutalised waterfowl in the United Kingdom. Does Your Mother Know? takes on the ethics of retribution, as Celebrían and Elrond are at odds after she demands to see her sons' orc hunt, raising fraught questions about complicity, cycles of violence, and the power of bearing witness.

The collection concludes with the two-part essay The Bravest Girl in Arda, where Celebrían, alongside her father Celeborn, constructs a living reconstruction of Taur-im-Duinath, a sunken forest in Beleriand. This final couplet articulates restoration as a quiet, persistent act: the renewal of the self through reconnection with the nonhuman world, the submerged histories that whisper beneath dominant narratives, and the “little revolutions” that exist under the weight of the great ones — resonating with Tolkien’s own attentiveness to the dignity of small acts and overlooked labours. Across the collection, An Elopement with Life engages with resilience as both concept and praxis, unfolding through a dialectic of rupture and repair, disappearance and re-emergence, myth and materiality, and the histories we choose—or refuse—to inherit.

Zara is an essayist and novelist who works broadly across queer world literatures and ecocriticism. She holds degrees from SOAS, St. Andrews and Oxford.

The work will update every 6-8 weeks, hosted exclusively on the SWG, and each essay in the collection can be read standalone.

Go to Collection.

[crystalflygeo]

Sinful voice pt.2 ft “Morax”/Prof!Zhongli + fem!reader (modern AU)

cw/tags: Voice kink, daddy kink, dirty talk, female masturbation, oral and fingering implied but like it's just fantasizing?? petnames (sweetheart, babygirl, dear) Reader is DOWN BAD LMAO and suffers second hand embarrasment.

notes: EVERYBODY SAY THANK YOU @localplaguenurse!!They gave me a F A N T A S T I C idea that just inspired me to continue this wip and ended up not even being featured here yet but HEY... future p3!! //winkwink. That said I did NOT expect how much this would blow up and how ppl loved it and wanted more, y'all gonna make me giddy and/or cry pls (consider checking some of my other stuff too mayhaps? <3) Anyway I REALLY hope this delivers bc boi am I afraid of not meeting expectations vcgvhjbnjnmklal

Weeks had passed since your ‘big discovery’ and you still weren’t quite sure what to do with this information.

At first you chalked it up to just your imagination because… there was no way, right? Your new professor could just have a… similar voice… yeah… that was it.

Except the more you listened to his long-winded explanations the more you picked up certain words and intonations here and there and you knew you were just fooling yourself.

A lot had happened in these last few weeks, from organizing your new living space, to meeting your roommates, to grocery shopping, classes, and you had even considered the idea of maybe getting a part time job somewhere close by. There were plenty of small shops and places around the college campus neighborhood that not only offered valuable services to poor college students but also the opportunity to make a bit of money to help them out.

It had all been rather exhausting and stressing, exams, essays and projects were already starting too…

Lying back in bed you sigh and roll over, feeling the familiar faint throb of desire pooling between your legs, one you’d never really managed to sate with a person so much as with fantasies. But tonight, as you lay awake in bed aching for your usual touch, you feel conflicted.

Ever since that very first day you just couldn’t bring yourself to open up Morax’s website again. Hell, a new month had rolled over and you’d dutifully paid the subscription along with your other usual bills.

Part of you was itching for it, curious, frustrated.

And very very horny.

Thing is, your fantasies had often featured a faceless man, strong, imposing and dominating, taking you like a blushing maiden and making you beg for the pleasure he’d give, allowing him to do anything he wanted with your heated body. Now that man had a face… your history professor Mr. Zhongli.

You used to get off to imaginings of Morax tying you up and having his way with you, teasing you, fucking you into the mattress and making you cum over and over. Now it was Mr. Zhongli. Polite and courteous Mr. Zhongli with his refined gestures and well-mannered demeanor.

You wanted to cum, to reach that high and come undone and let out all the pent-up stress and frustration until you melted into a puddle and didn’t have to think about classes or money or life anymore, but the second your fingers began to rub at your clit, Mr. Zhongli’s voice would hit you with that even tone he used when scolding someone for gossiping during his lecture.

“Disgraceful behavior…”

A hot flash of shame burned at your face but for whatever reason it just turned you on more. You wanted to get fucked so bad you felt like you were going insane. You wanted that man to pin you up against a wall and thrust inside you until you turned into an incoherent moaning mess. You wanted to get bent over at his desk and filled up with cum until you were left gaping and oozing and told what a good girl you are. You wanted to get fucked on your hands and knees squirming and crying from overstimulation.

Lying in bed, you squeezed a pillow against your face and screamed.

You wanted to fuck your handsome history professor Mr. Zhongli.

-------------------------------------

It’s barely first period and you couldn’t concentrate.

You were sleepy, hungry and overall, in a bad mood. Standing in line at the cafeteria for a much-needed morning coffee and some snack you yawn and browse around your phone. Math. Gods you hated math.

At least you didn’t have history today. That was a whole other can of worms.

You figured you’d eventually have to get over it but it was just… so bizarre. Mr. Zhongli was quite the popular teacher, you’d learned. Extremely knowledgeable in various topics, a strict but kind and just teacher and good looking on top of all.

No wonder the upperclassmen flocked around him, probably half the campus lowkey had a crush on him, male and female students alike. It was genuinely a miracle he was not married or even had a significant other apparently.

And he was also Morax. Sensual dominating Morax who would just not leave your head-

“Good morning, how may I help you?” The cashier called out cheerfully and you pulled out of your thoughts.

“Morn-”

“Good morning.”

You gasp so sharply you almost launch into a coughing fit; your eyes widen and whole body tenses and oh shit-

Somehow you manage to trip and fall in the clumsiest, stupidest way possible.

“Woah-!”

“Miss?!”

Except you don’t actually fall, but someone manages to hold you, a hand grabbing your arm and the other pressed against your back steadying you as your poor brain goes into overdrive.

That voice!

It’s him!

Too close!

What is he doing here?!

Way too close!!

The seconds it takes for you to react feel like ages as you stare up at Mr. Zhongli like a deer caught in the headlights.

His hands are warm…

His cologne smells soooo good.

His eyes are gorgeous!

He’s so hot!!

“Are you alright Miss l/n?”

“I’M FINE! I-I’m fine!” You yelp, way louder than intended (or normal) and quickly scoot back to put some distance between yourself and the handsome professor. He picks up his dropped bag and dusts it a little, as well as his clothes, still pristine as ever. “I… think I got a little dizzy s-sorry I haven’t eaten yet and… yeah…” You chuckle nervously.

You see him frown slightly. “Going without food for long periods of time can be quite dangerous.” He states, obviously concerned. “Maybe you should head to the infirmary see Dr Baizhu, you look quite pale and the dizziness could be a symptom of low blood pressure. Do you have anything sugary to eat or drink?”

“I w-was about to buy something…”

“It might be best for you to sit down for the moment.” He nods, resolute. “Allow me.”

…And that’s how you end up sitting at one of the nearby small tables with a little glazed donut and a bottle of water, courtesy of your dear history professor.

You stare at the little treat in your hands, half eaten already as he insisted, at least your hands stopped shaking and some color returned to your face. Mr. Zhongli seemed content enough, sitting across from you.

“T-Thank you.” You mumble, refusing to meet his gaze. “How much was it? I’ll pay you back I have som-”

He sees you rummaging through you bag and raises a hand. “None of that, you needed it. I’m glad to see you’re looking a little better, please take care of yourself, health is very important.”

“Um, ok.”

Then he smiles, and it’s gentle, soft. “You’re Miss l/n, right? One of the new students from my history class?”

Huh?   

“You didn’t do very well on the essay assignment…”

Ack. You sigh and take another bite of the small donut. “History is just… not my strong suit. Too many dates and names to remember.”

He chuckles and oh God who gave him the right to make that sound? Your skin tingles.

“Fair enough. I know my classes can be a little daunting, I’m very particular about certain topics and tend to ramble sometimes. But I can tell you really put effort into classes and pay attention to my lectures.” He looks pensive for a moment. “Let me propose something. I usually impart some private tutoring sessions to students on more advanced levels, but I could make an exception for you. If you have time available it could help lift your grades.”

You stare up at him in surprise, grateful to not have a mouthful of donut or you would have probably choked again like an idiot. Did you hear that right? A private tutoring session after hours at his office?!

Now that sounded like a title for one of Morax’s audios: Hot professor bangs his stu-NOPE.    

“I-I’ll think about it! Sure.”

He nods and gets up, sparing a glance at his watch. “I have to leave now, please do consider it. And do try to eat at more regular intervals and take better care of yourself, you look quite tired.”

A polite way of saying you had marked eyebags, yep.

“I’ll try.” You mumble. Suddenly a little sad to see him go. “Professor… thank you.”

There’s that smile again, you could melt. “You’re welcome, my dear.”

----------------------------------

And yet that night, you’re once again rolling in bed unable to sleep.

My dear.

You couldn’t stop thinking on the whole incident, you’d certainly made a fool of yourself but the memory of his strong arms holding you, touch firm but gentle. The scent of his cologne that you wish had clung more on your clothes.

You really were down bad, this is ridiculous…

You bite your lip.

You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t.

Oh but you will, just one wouldn’t hurt.

Quite the opposite actually…

Unable to contain yourself (or your horniness) you take no time to pop in your earbuds and start scrolling. Hmm… there had been a couple new additions in these last weeks.

You can’t help but wonder why he does these. When. How. You never really considered or thought on it before, Morax has quite a lot of patrons (not a surprise) and thought you know nothing about sound and video recording or editing technically he’s making money just by using that honeyed velvet voice of his. That had to bring in some cash, right?

But then again, if you knew anything about these types of subscriptions it was that they required constancy and that meant hard work and dedication. Did he enjoy these? He really puts in the effort given the amazing quality…

You can’t help but picture your handsome professor unwinding a little after a long day, casual clothes, a cup of that tea he loves and setting up to record those dirty words and sinful moans.

Did he sometimes get worked up about these too? Did he also touch himself during or after recording a particular scenario? Sitting back slightly sprawled on the chair, brow slightly furrowed, stroking his co-   

Aaahhhh you needed to stop thinking on him.

…

Yeah right.

“Daddy eats you out and prepares you for his big cock.”

Well, this looks promising.   

The audio starts like many others, with some dialogue from him and setting the scene and oh… you had kind of missed the playful teasing tilt of Morax’s voice. You can’t help but chuckle lightly, this scene is so domestic. He calls you “sweetheart”, “babygirl” and there are the kissy noises.

You wish you could kiss him…

“Hmmm… daddy’s gonna get you nice and ready. Spread your legs for me.” Oh, you certainly do. “Daddy’s gonna get down here between them.”

You rub at your tights slowly, sensual, remembering his larger hands.

“Oh your little pussy is already so wet and swollen.” Morax coos, voice soft and airy. “You think it’s already ready I know.” He chuckles. “But you know daddy’s cock is big, yeah, your little pussy’s gonna need to stretch a little bit hm?” A kiss.

You whine.

“Shhh daddy’s gonna make you feel so good sweetheart.”

Lewd wet noises invade your ears and you waste no time starting to stroke yourself, slow and tender. He groans and sighs and you whimper, hips jolting from the bed.

Gods how was he so…

“Yeah… nice and gentle hmm, we’re gonna have so much fun.”

His words were a complete 180 from the long lectures about politics and wars, and yet, his voice…

“D-Daddy…” You sigh. “Please!”

“Oh I love how sensitive your little clit is… you like that babygirl?”

You rub and stroke at the little bundle of nerves and see stars already.

You were so pent up, so needy. Your orgasm was already building too quickly, mewling and whining at his words, his noises, trying to match the pace and follow his instructions.

“That’s a good girl.”

“F-Fuck-”

Your eyebrows furrow, your body trembles and you bit your lip to contain your noises. Morax warns you when he adds a finger, and after a few seconds another, chuckling low at how you clench, praising you, coaxing out your pleasure.

You can only picture him at the end of the bed, licking and sucking obscenely at your juices, pumping those slender fingers in and out, in and out…

That tantalizing voice teasing you, your fingers knotting that dark brown hair tipped amber, golden eyes staring up at you half-lidded but feral and fascinated. Focusing on you. Only you.

“A-Ah! Mhmm…”

“Now I want you to cum babygirl come on, in five… four…”

You stroke and pump faster, frantic, lost in that rapidly approaching high.

“Three… two…”   

You cry out, a spark cursing through your veins.

“One… hmmm that’s it my dear.”

“Z-Zhongli…!”

He ushers you out of your release with soft words before saying something else, but your mind is floating and hazy. Your take off the earbuds and place them away catching your breath for a moment, arm draped over your face, the audio still has a long way to go but you’re drowsy and sleepy so you decide to call it a night.

It is only a little later, once you’re done with a quick cleaning and putting everything away, curled up under the covers and dozing off that you realize…

Shit.

You’d called not for Morax but Zhongli.

[usedtobeathrowaway]

how much do you think it weighed on Eggman's mind learning his grandfather, whom he based some of his life and ideology on, in the end wanted to destroy all humans, destroy the earth... that, Eggman, his own grandson was on?

[mistyscenter]

I love that this fandom doesn't understand Baxter's character, I adore how they patronize him,a whole ass adult, for facing the consequences of his actions.

I love how people make him feel like a sad little baby when he leaves mc as if that's not something he made extremely clear. I love how people treat this 19 year old as if he's not old enough to understand the consequences of his actions. I love how Baxter is aware of his flaw's but feels like he can't break them because people only see him as a tool and this fandom reinforces that.

I love how people will get mad at Nico for doing the cardinal crime of being 6 years old but will baby a 24 year old Baxter. I love how people make him this charismatic rich guy when it's shown that he's a hot mess that doesn't know what he wants. I love that Baxter's whole character arc is about his self sabotaging tendencies and how everyone ignores that. I love that people fell in love with the mask he had for most of the dlc.

I love that this fandom lacks reading comprehension skills and understanding of nuance characters, great job everyone for not understanding how writing works :)

[lendmyboyfriendahand]

I think Argon died at Alqualonde.

When the second host of the Noldor reaches Beleriand, they have a lot of grief. Those who died on the Grinding Ice are tragic, but easier to talk about. They died in pain and fear, but they were trying only to fulfill a promise and to seek a new home. Mourning Elenwe can be done in public, with no discussion of fault or her having deserved it.

Those who died fighting their own kin are harder though, especially as Fingolfin doesn't want to start diplomacy with new neighbors by mentioning such an evil deed. He's also too proud though to accept sympathy under false pretenses, even for the death of his son. Fingolfin couldn't stand listening to Cirdan say platitudes about the sea and Ulmo's mercy to drowned sailors, no matter how well meaning. So for a while, he simply doesn't mention his youngest son at all. Those who knew Argon know how he died; those who never met him think Fingolfin only has two sons.

("Two sons at least thous hast to honour thy words" - Fingolfin's own voice echoes bitterly in his head.)

Argon was bold, and headstrong. He saw a battle and charged into it, right alongside his big brother. So tall, he made an easy target. Maybe it was his own foolishness that got him killed, but not malice. He didn't even know why they was fighting.

Slowly, rumors begin to spread among the Sindar. They say the second host fought a battle before the rising of the Sun, nearly on the edge of the Sea. The host took losses, but did not let it deter them. Fingolfin's own son died, surrounded by enemies, a victim of his own bravery.

The battle was against orcs because who else would elves be fighting?

(Maglor is a storyteller first and foremost. A public gift to Fingolfin would be full of symbolism and double meaning between the two kings, but he can grant his uncle space to mourn.)

[practically-an-x-man]

I'm starting to realize that my writing that first Pluto fic may be tied to me trying to process Loki's cancer diagnosis

[torgawl]

there's so many connections tying the moon, seelies and the jinn, but more concretely between the goddess of flowers and guizhong!!! by connections i mean they always appear associated with the moon and one another. as i was reading through the lore attempting to gather some of the moments these ties could be drawn, i ended up noticing other patterns that seemed to fit a similar narrative with other entitites as well. it quickly transformed into a post about the sun and moon symbolism in genshin. although i'm probably missing a lot of things, this is what i found while reading in-game information.

"records of the gallant"

this book is a compilation of stories and legends of many knight-errants in liyue, the second volume specifically is very obviously about guizhong. the association starts with the title “dust”, as she was the god of dust, and goes on to her description as “a maiden in a long indigo robe”, which matches perfectly her appearance. she is very often connected with the night time and the moon, and in this specific instance with seelies as well. seelies are described specifically as having had “beautiful physical forms and (…) great wisdom” in the past in the book “records of jueyun”. this book also talks about the seelie ancestor who once met a traveller from afar with whom they swore an oath of union in the presence of the three moon sisters before disaster struck and they were punished. both seelies and the moon are, throughout the game, always hand-in-hand with each other when it comes to symbolism and references and moments with guizhong like this one are no exception. i think it’s relevant to mention that at the end of the tale when this maiden disappears, the only thing left is a pile of dust mirroring guizhong’s “death”. dust in genshin can easily be tied to life (specifically as the base of all life) through albedo and rhinedottir who, consequently, are connected to khaenri’ah and the art of khemia – one of the factors behind the fall of the nation.

memory of dust

memory of dust is a stone dumbbell gifted to zhongli by guizhong and its description is about one of their conversations. guizhong standed among a field of glaze lilies, flower associated with her, as she talks about humans and compares them to dust.

this scene also includes an allusion to her death with guizhong dissolving into dust and with her, the glaze lilies disappearing.

glaze lilies are said to transform the memories of the land into its fragrance during florescence and legend has it that the flower will open at the sound of pure, beautiful music. the interesting thing about this flower is that it only blossoms during the night time, being this way indirectly connected with the moon. this excerpt or circumstances are very reminiscent to another character in this game, nabu malikata, also known as the goddess of flowers.

the goddess of flowers

the goddess of flowers is very likely to have been a survivor of the seelie race, if not the seelie ancestor herself. this was revealed through us by an aranara, arama, who said “there was once a survivor of that race seelie deep within the golden desert who was friends with queen aranyani and the ruler of valuka”. queen aranyani and the ruler of valuka are titles given to greater lord rukkedhevatta and king deshret, respectively, and, as we know, they were both really close to nabu malikata. the goddess of flowers was also said to have horns by nilou, whose head piece is inspired in this detail, and when traveler sees her in liloupar’s memories they describe her appearance as being "ineffably beautiful”, comparable to "the totality of her jinn". all these characteristics are also associated with seelies.

the “flower of paradise lost” artifact set tells a lot of the story of the goddess of flower. the flower piece tells the story of how she was cast aside by the heavens and her kinship was punished by being stripped away of their minds just like what happened to the seelies and their ancestor, confirming her identity.  

she was said to wander for a long time, her wounds gushing streams that transformed into gardens of which blue water lilies sprouted. lilies those that originated jinn, a mystical race of elemental spirits considered, just like seelies, creatures of wisdom. the goddess of flowers was also said to make purple flowers bloom wherever she stopped, more specifically padisarahs. much like glaze lilies and guizhong, padisarahs also went extinct after the goddess of flowers’ death.

nilotpala lotus

the one other flower that resembles the glaze lilies is the nilotpala lotus. they also only bloom at night and in its description, we learn of their connection to the three moon sisters.

although the moon sisters perished after the same disaster that struck the seelie ancestor and the solar chariot (that created the chasm with its fall), the flowers turned to serve a new master yet the nilotpala lotus continues to remember those happy days of the past. something interesting regarding the name niloptala is that it refers to "blue lotus" or "blue lily" and represents one of the several "attributes" or "accessories" of a deity commonly seen depicted in hindu iconography, defined according to texts dealing with arts and crafts, known as shilpa shastras. i think it’s pretty logical to parallel these flowers, that grow in the forest wetlands in sumeru, to guizhong, someone very known for her mechanisms and who is deeply tied to blue lilies.

goddess of flowers and king deshret

a long time ago, the goddess of flowers, king deshret and greater lord rukkedhevata were all very close friends who looked over sumeru (any resemblance to the liyue consortium is pure coincidence, or not). “flower of paradise lost” continues to tell the story of the gof and contains the depiction of what happened that led to king deshret obtaining forbidden knowledge. through king deshret's aspirations, she saw the possibility to transcend the absurd shackles that governed this world (heavenly principles) and so she helped him in his goal, leading to her sacrifice and consequent death. she is said to have turned into dust in the “vourukasha's glow” artifact set, once again paralleling guizhong.

she once again refers the punishment casted upon the seelie race by the heavens, warning king deshret of the consequences his actions may have. the most interesting thing to me in this passage is the fact she is depicted as being “wreathed in darkness” when guiding deshret towards discovering “all there was to know about the skies and the abyss”; this and the fact she could foresee future events. it actually makes a lot of sense as nabu (who shares a name with her) is an ancient mesopotamian god of literacy, the rational arts, scribes, and wisdom (can you see the pattern?) whose name means "enlightened" or "prophet". she reminds me a lot of sibylla, who met king remus “below the abyssal depths”. knowledge beyond what the heavens allow seems to be connected multiple times to the abyss. this comparison with sibylla gains even more strength when, in the same artifact set, she tells deshret “you seek but to chain the winds. upon the tombstone of divinity shall humanity become the god of gods”. this was also remus’ goal, something he strived for so much that he was willing to ignore prophecies of disaster as long as he could attempt to break the chains of fate.

oasis garden's mourning

this ascencion material with the image of a flower in the center tells us the goddess of flowers and king deshret built ay-khanoum together, also known as “city of the moon maidens”, for the jinn. it’s this material that tells us padisarahs went extinct after the gof’s death and that these gem discs lost their original “glad purpose”, much like what happened to the padisarahs as depicted in the artifact set mentioned earlier. yet, there’s another version of this story told in “the shepherd and the magic bottle”. in this book (told by a jinn) it’s believed that king deshret learned about the jinn's story as well as the story of the “dismal moon and the driving morning star” (likely connected to the seelie ancestor, the three moon sisters and the solar chariot) after capturing them and, afterwards, built ay-khanoum as a gift to commemorate them; in return, the jinn built the entrance to the mausoleum of king deshret. according to liloupar, deshret had deceived the jinn to gain their servitude, telling them that the goddess of flowers had not perished but was instead locked in a deep slumber in the orchard of pairidaeza (created by deshret as a cemetery for the gof), and that he could awaken her with the jinn's aid. there’s an interesting detail in “the shepherd and the magic bottle” where the jinni says that at the end of the city of the moon maiden’s play “everything was reduced to dust”.

sun and moon dichotomy

guizhong’s color is, as referenced earlier, blue like the moon. whenever there’s a deity associated with the moon or the moon-sisters (gof and guizhong) there’s also one that symbolizes the sun (deshret and zhongli), usually coming to form a duo. this traces back all the way back to the solar and moon chariot, their gods and the disaster that led to their separation. it’s interesting to note the fall of the solar chariot, as i mentioned earlier, was what led to the creation of the chasm. although according to what we have access in game the text implies this entity to be different from zhongli, there’s actually a lot of things tying him or creating that parallel between him and the sun or the sun god (who might have been a shade of phanes). we can also consider traveler and paimon as another example of this constant duality within the story, as the traveler is almost literally the morning star and paimon is symbolically connected to the moon and seelies too.

“before sun and moon”, that tells the story of enkanomiya, includes an interesting parable.

this parable clearly references the sakura tree in inazuma’s story but it also intertwines with the heavens and the entities related to the primordial one. tokoyo ookami is istaroth and she’s referred to as the king’s priest. if the king is the primordial one then it makes sense the king’s gardener would be another of the shades. it’s hard to interpret some text when everything is told in metaphors and sometimes information isn’t actually that reliable but the concept of love here reminded me of the solar and moon chariot as well as the seelie ancestor and traveler from afar from the kingdom of light (descriptions in “records of jueyun” and “the pale princess and the six pygmies”). it’s also a bit impossible to read of a tree spirit heavily linked to time and planted by the heavens and not think about irminsul. this concept of gardener or protector of the tree is also somewhat recurrent and can be linked to sibylla as well, a prophetess.

the triquetra has a lot of different meanings but it’s usually connected with three goddesses, three sun positions or three moon phases. another item that has a triquetra on it is mora, that also can be used for alchemy and transmutations. we also know mora was, at least in the beginning, created from morax’s own body so it’s interesting this symbol appears in the coins. “earth is where the alchemy gets its name” and the art of khemia (alchemy from khaenri’ah) literally meaning “art of black earth” in chinese also seem to point to a connection between the terms.

khaenri’ah connections

guizhong had a particular interest in mechanics: the guizhong ballista was one of her handiworks, built with the aid of the adepti, and she apparently collected khaenri'ah technology such as ruin machines for research. as i mentioned before in regards to her (god of dust) “death”, dust can easily be connected with both the art of khemia and concepts such as birth and life. as albedo says: “soil and chalk, the universe and earth, pure dust and the birth of human life”.

in the hidden palace of guizang formula domain, the challenge called voyage to the sanguine sky has the description: "this is the realm of clouds. guizhong, its former ruler, acquired several ancient and evil artifacts during her research into mechanics. the adepti created this realm to contain them." curiously, the fight in this domain is against two ruin guards and a ruin hunter. guizhong was presumably researching khaenri'ahn technology before she died in the archon war. considering ruin guards didn't start wondering teyvat until after the cataclysm, we can propose a question of how exactly she got them. mentioning remus again, the golems he created with the souls of his people within the golden ichor are hinted to be what referenced khaenri’ah to create ruin machines. the link between having the want to defy the heavens and the fall of nations is something we’re already aware, but the way these nations or people connect with each other is also very consistent.

“perinheri”, a book very obviously about khaenri’ah during the crimson moon dynasty, was the talk of the town for multiple reasons but one of the surprises in it was the mention to deus auri (zhongli) by angelica. her nation was defeated by deus auri but she refused to submit to the new god. the orphanage in khaenri’ah – that ties itself with the house of the hearth – seems to have collected children that could classify as descenders, looking for some sort of potential. khaenri’ah anticipated the arrival of "beings who could transcend the gods" and this seems to relate to the concept presented to us during one of sumeru’s archon quests that the traveler’s twin isn’t a descender despite traveler being considered one. it also fits rene’s description of a descender being those with “wills that can rival an entire world”. i can’t make a connection between these concepts but zhongli’s mention is definitely intriguing.  

deshret was depicted in genshin animations as an 8-pointed star and the speculated door to khaenri’ah, below sumeru, also has the same star on it. there's two stars that could be in association to this symbol, the star of lakshmi and the star of ishtar. in both cases, the 8-pointed star is associated with the goddess venus, who was worshipped as a symbol of fertility and love. the star can be seen as a representation of the eight phases of venus, which includes her appearances as the morning and evening star.

lakshmi ('she who leads to one's goal') is one of the principal goddesses in hinduism. she’s associated with maya (illusion) and along with parvati and saraswati she forms the tridevi of hindu goddesses. the tridevi are considered consorts and auxiliary deities to the more eminent masculine trimurti gods (brahma, shiva and vishnu).  saraswati is the goddess of learning, arts, and music, and the consort of brahma, the creator; lakshmi is the goddess of fortune, fertility, light, and material and spiritual fulfillment, and consort of vishnu, the preserver; and parvati is the goddess of power, war, beauty, and love. she is the consort of shiva, the destroyer of evil.

lakshmi, as his consort and divine energy, accompanied vishnu whenever he descended on earth as an avatar; she's the supreme goddess in the sect and assists vishnu to create, protect, and transform the universe. lakshami is associated with the lotus flowers, in reference to spirit liberation, and her iconography also depicts her with four hands, representing the four aspects of human life important to hindu culture: dharma (moral values), kama (pleasure), artha (prosperity), and moksha (final liberation, humanity’s ultimate goal).

the tridevi are the manifestations of mahadevi, the supreme goddess and the primordial power behind the creation of the universe (creator and destroyer). all hindu gods and goddesses are considered to be manifestations of mahadevi and she’s known by many names, some translating to ‘she who is primordial matter’, ‘the great illusion’, ‘the life force in all beings’, ‘she who is supreme knowledge’, ‘she who transcends the universe’, and ‘she who destroys’. mahadevi's is also called ‘night of death’ and ‘she who is death’, reinforcing her destructive nature.

the star of ishtar or or star of inanna is usually used in association with the heavens and is specifically connected to the planet venus. the eight-pointed star is sometimes shown alongside the crescent moon, which was the symbol of sin (god of the moon) and the rayed solar disk, which was a symbol of shamash (god of the sun). the morning star may have been conceived as a male deity who presided over the arts of war and the evening star may have been conceived as a female deity who presided over the arts of love.

inanna (or ishtar) is an ancient goddess of love, war, and fertility and her primary title was "the queen of heaven". many of her myths involve her taking over the domains of other deities. she was believed to have been given the mes, which represented all positive and negative aspects of civilization, by enki, the god of wisdom. she apparently took over the eanna temple from the god of the sky, an. alongside her twin brother utu, inanna was the enforcer of divine justice. in the standard version of the epic of gilgamesh, ishtar asks gilgamesh to become her consort. when he disdainfully refuses, she unleashes the bull of heaven, resulting in the death of gilgamesh’s friend, who has a subsequent grapple with his own mortality. inanna's most famous myth is the story of her descent into and return from the ancient mesopotamian underworld, ruled by her older sister ereshkigal. after she reaches the throne room, the seven judges of the underworld (whose function was to decree the fates of humanity) deem her guilty and strike her dead. three days later, someone pleads with all the gods to bring inanna back. all of them refuse, except enki, who sends two beings to rescue inanna. they escort inanna out of the underworld but the guardians of the underworld drag her husband down there as replacement. he is eventually permitted to return to heaven for half the year, while his sister remains in the underworld for the other half, resulting in the cycle of the seasons.

as genshin is a bit of a cocktail when it comes to mythology and any historical references, it’s hard to say if the stories of ishtar or lakshami can even be a straightforward parallel to the higher beings in genshin. but i think if there’s one thing to take from everything so far is that there’s a very meaningful recurrence of trios or the number three (e.g. triquetra, three moon sisters, evil trinity), as well as the constant appearance of sun and moon elements together and dependent of one another (either in regards to their roles or their personal connections), the sun always being the masculine and the moon always being the feminine. we know there was a time in which these elements co-existed together in heaven, although they seem to be fated/doomed to separate from one another (the tragedies referenced in this post being an example of that).

enkanomiya

there are three very interesting achievements with interesting names you get in enkanomiya. one is kairos' constancy, and is the one you get from completing time trial challenges. kairos, as we already know, is one of istaroth’s (god of time) names. this name is based on the greek god kairos, the god of moments. the other two achievements, which also have greek names, are hesperus' boons, for opening chests, and phosphoros' guidance, for following seelies. if these are names of deities with close relations to phanes or at least celestia, as it would make sense because it would follow the pattern for istaroth, then would it be that out-of-pocket to think these might be the names of the other shades or of the moon sisters? phosphorus (bearer of light, often translated as lucifer) is the god of the planet venus in its appearance as the morning star. hesperus (son of dawn), on another hand, is the evening star. (planet venus in the evening). venus, as mentioned before, relates to the eight-pointed star and we know this shape is also used as the symbol of istaroth in enkanomiya (light realm sygil).

which, by the way, are used in hilichurl camps. the hilichurl camp in front of the thousand wind temple in mondstadt was already a hint that they worshiped istaroth but i think it’s safe to say that with certainty. it’s just curious that they don’t really recognize the archons, thinking of the elements as that which is deserving of worshiping, yet recognize (at least one of) a shade of phanes. the name istaroth is derived from astaroth, one of the three demons in the "evil trinity" alongside beelzebub and lucifer, connecting istaroth and the morning star once again.

i don't plan to drag this any longer as this is already way too long but to finish it off, and summarising these ideas: i'd say the one of the biggest patterns present in the game is the constant mention of entities in heaven seemingly converging into the duality of sun and moon, the moon sisters and the sun god. i haven't properly dwelled on this to come to a any sort of definite idea but there’s too many details creating a consistent pattern for my brain to disregard these ties as non-intentional. obviously, all these characters i have mentioned throughout the post aren’t going to all be the same handful of beings, and that’s not what i’m trying to say, but i do believe the repetition of the same themes has meaning. maybe the same way mahadevi manifested herself as three other feminine gods who worked together with male deities, the heavenly principles or phanes also created the shades as a manifestation of the sun and the moon. or maybe ishtar, alongside utu as enforcers of divine justice, taking over the god of the sky's (ishtar's father) temple could mirror the twins and their journey. maybe kairos, phosphorus and hesperus are indeed the moon sisters or even shades of the primordial one. maybe guizhong isn't meant to be more than a parallel to other entities, but maybe she was truly more than what was originally presented. i don't think it's impossible that even if she isn't one of the big figures - goddess of flowers or a moon sister - that she could have originated from one or be related to one (nabu malikata having seelies as her people and jinni or khvarena as her daughters). similarly to how venti is hinted to have originated from istaroth (as he was originally "a single thread of the thousand winds", istaroth's title). or perhaps not. regardless, it’s fun to notice that many theories in the fandom sort of intertwine together to make a fuller picture based on scattered information across the game. i'm not sure if i'll go more in-depth regarding some of these "theories" as there's still a lot to expand but i hope all of this made at least a little bit of sense. thank you for reading this far!

[seventh-district]

not even gonna tag this properly bc i don't wanna get Involved but i do have some Thoughts i need to get out into the void so here we go

(aaa quick edit: CW for mention/discussion of Boothill leaks)

[blazingblorbos]

oh god. oh god. oh.. oh gosh. I didn't expect this so soon. I didn't expect this today, I've been busy with life related things so the HYV calendar is really unbeknownst to me, is this update really next week already?? where can I rant about this- whERe can I rant about this-

oh. I made a blog for that exact purpose ! OKAY—!

fuck. fuck me, dude holy-

FUCK.

the slightly worried look on Arle's face as Snezhevna is reaching out her hand, only for her face to seemingly revert back to cold and neutral once the camera actually focuses in on her. Her tone is cold but her words are reassuring,,,,,,,,

ALSO GOD FUCKING DAMN IT. HOW GENTLY SHE HOLDS HER HAND.

the d o o r. the DOOR. THE FUCKING DOOR, CHAT. the slow opening at first, and once you can make out that it's certainly Arle's silhouette she shoves it fully open - both doors, both hands. incredibly attractive—. the FEAR in that man's eyes.

The crossed hands. We can't see her face but you know what expression she's making (it's not really an expression. it's neutral but you can feel it). THE FUCKING F E A R ON THAT MAN'S FACE.

Oh- she literally just grabbed him by the throat. Just like that- ! There's the expression. Oh, you feel it, alright. If you go frame by frame, you'll notice her eyes narrow in the slightest right before ->

POV: you're getting chocked out by Arlecchino, and that's actually the least of your worries. (my god she is beautiful).

I did not expect him to simply be thrown down to the ground and I ... d i d not expect her to step on his FACE. [insert gay masochistic joke here. you know the one]. Did not expect her to smile (this is the ONLY scene wherein we see her smile even slightly... huh...) *And the reason I say "I did not expect her to smile", is because with the momentum we were getting I thought she was straight up going to crush his throat, or stab him (hand, weapon or otherwise). It looked like she was digging the forefoot of her shoe into the guys head and not the... .. y'know deadly fucking heel, so that.. confused me. (and the sound when she supposedly stomped his head in did NOT sound all that impactful) but ANYWAYS I digress-

I'm of course assuming more happened after the cut to black because . madam where did you get that bloodstain on you—

BLOODSTAIN ON HER FACE!?!?!? (more on this in a second)

Freminet??? Freminet feature ! (not Lyney or Lynette.. interesting). :(((( the poor boy sounds so,, desensitized. His father

holy shit quick intermission. After the mental chronological fuckfest that was "The Song Burning in the Embers" I don't think I can look at Arle and the HotH the same anymore because she's.. she's like not even 10 years older than them (?) it's insane this doesn't make any sense- ANYWAYS.

HIS FATHER comes back with what we later see to be real blood on her face. Tells him "I've acquired new funds". We know what that means... HE knows what that means!!, and the way WE - THE AUDIENCE - know that Freminet knows what it means is because the boy replies "Oh.. Okay.."

LIKE-! chat omg this is truly just routine for them,,,, Like out of the 3 siblings, Freminet always gave off the biggest child assassin vibe, but wow. To see that routine and desensitized nature of the HotH's line of work just,, splayed out in a Character Trailer is . wow. and the look in his eyes as he says it is- wow.

YEAH UHH BLOODSTAIN ON HER FACE??/ The lighting in this scene now is evidently less saturated. And it's just- oh my FUCKING GOD it does so many things:

the blood on Arle's face looks... dry. it doesn't look as fresh as you may expect which could mean many things. It could mean she spent,,, hella long in there with that guy doing what needed to be done. It could mean she took care of something else immediately after dealing with that guy (perhaps smth related to the children Snezhevna wanted to save). But regardless, it means she didn't put in the effort to clean her face and hide what happened. OBVIOUSLY !!! that is so . obviously her style but to S E E IT IN MY GENSHIN IMPACT CHARACTER TRAILER it's- oh my god

it serves to highlight the really, truly, bleak nature of the scene now that we know plain and simple Arlecchino just killed a man. There's no subtext, there's no reading between the lines. The only thing that didn't happen is that we didn't see contact nor see a body. But, no sugarcoating, Arlecchino killed a man. No one is hiding it. You are not surprised. No one should be but damn.

and ofc it acts as a representation of Snezhevna dying...

because it seems like the saturation is back once the camera switches to looking at Snezhevna laying in bed.

And is it me, or does it look like Arle's allowing herself to actually display a tinge of worry in her expression this time? And also, EVER so slightly in her tone as well. You can feel it, it's gentler.

"Once I'm better I'll start my next mission.."

THIS. THIS!! IN SO MANY WAYS THIS!

OKAY. so bear with me. I haven't actually read any of the sibling's character stories yet, so there could be a LOT of info I'm missing but:

There's still a pretty thought-provoking conversation going on (in MY mind, at least) about just how intensely these children are being trained to be soldiers for the Fatui. They're obviously in an environment that indoctrinates them into being soldiers of SOME kind, but I still don't know what kind of soldier that's supposed to be. Are they all ALWAYS extensions of the Fatui? Or are they more-so extensions of Arlecchino specifically..? Snezhevna was obviously trying to help those children she came across, and I'm assuming that happened on her latest mission, so was the mission for a charitable cause?? What was her next mission supposed to be?? Same line of work? Saving people? Or would it switch up and was she going to be sent to "take care of" (kill .) someone???

So I don't know whether to interpret that line as a hint of them being overworked and 1) feeling like they need to continue their work out of pure fear that they'll be deemed ineffective and useless... or 2) feeling like they need to continue their work out of a sense of loyalty and duty to the place that took them in and raised them. Or both..

and ofc the funeral scene. I can't say much more than what's already shown right on the screen.

and am I bugging? Or is the location of the grave....

[sheathnknife]

the vampire diaries 8.16 // louise gluck, crossroads

“and damon, like the voiceover tell us, he was worried he would never see stefan again. it was just elena assuring him that there would be peace. that we’ve dealt with this other side of darkness for several seasons, but there’s also light out there and there’s peace, and damon will find it. if you search for it, you will find it. and we wanted to get that last moment to see that [...] damon found it too, and it looked just like his brother.” — kevin williamson