#no this my hand will rather / the multitudinous seas incarnadine / making the green one red!!!!

[iysure]

Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand?

[carfuckerlynch]

guy who is always thinking about macbeth at least a little bit

[tathrin]

Anyone else have a favorite obscure or ridiculous word that they love so much they have to put it in everything they write as soon as they have even the faintest excuse to do so?

Mine is incarnadine.

[amoratearte]

“Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.”

—Macbeth (Act II, Sc. II)

Daemon and Rhaenyra, the sword and the crown

[axolotldice]

The Dark Urge - 8 Piece Set

- Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.

[we-ezer]

"Whence is that knocking?— How is’t with me, when every noise appals me? What hands are here! Ha, they pluck out mine eyes. Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather The multitudinous seas incarnadine, Making the green one red." -Macbeth, Act 2, scene 2, lines 55-61

[lasatfat]

for dadwc prompts, how about eireann and "A freshly painted vhenadahl" from the dragon age artefacts prompt list?

artefacts of Thedas prompts | @dadrunkwriting

Shadows and Tall Trees

“Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas in incarnadine, making the green one red.” – William Shakespeare, Macbeth

The vhenadahl casts its dappled light over all the memories Eireann has of the alienage. Even as a child, she received no answer for why it was there, why they painted it every spring, or even what it was meant to do. “It means ‘Tree of the People,’” was the most her father could tell her, as he handed her a brush and a little pot of scarlet paint. More of it ended up on her hands than on the tree, but still, he told her she’d done a good job.

Odhrán Surana is dead now. He died in his daughter’s arms, and she cannot ask him anything else.

Eireann stands beside the vhenadahl, in the gloom of approaching twilight. The smell of new paint cuts sharp through the miasma of destruction and poverty, through the fourteen years since she had helped to paint the tree. She is alone, but for that memory. She doesn’t know how to be anything else. She can’t hold her mother, can’t reach out for comfort, can’t cradle the child resting in her womb, because when she looks at her hands now, all she sees is her father’s blood draining through her fingers.

She places a hand on the bark. It’s still tacky. When she peels her hand away, her palm is patched with paint. So she touches it again, and again, and again, until the tree is scattered with the voids of her handprints, and the vhenadahl’s patterns are ruined, and her palms are streaked red, white and pink. Anything to hide the stains of that memory.

They find her at nightfall, slumped at the foot of the vhenadahl, covered in the evidence of her outburst. Nobody blames her. The tree can be repainted, but her father cannot be returned.

[hanbunmensch]

Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.

A little water clears us of this deed.

[saturn-s-moon]

"Will all great Neptune’s oceans wash this blood Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine Making the green one red."

–Macbeth, Shakespeare.

Incarnadine, the color of blood red and sin. (1/?)

"When put in this context, incarnadine is rather repellant. And yet, it’s beautiful when painted on a bedroom wall, as shown by the high-end paint company Farrow and Ball. In large, generous swaths, incarnadine can be stunning and regal. It’s significantly uglier when seen in bits and pieces—like many murky hues, it looks best when flattened and standing on its own." Says Katy Kelleher about this color on her color essays, hue's hue.

This color is better looked at uniformly from afar, like Maedhros. His broad strokes are impressive, he's a fierce warrior that was relentless, taught himself to fight with his left hand when he lost his right, was a diplomat, a strategist, held the March of Maedhros alongside his brothers, stablishing his reign in arguably the most dangerous place in Arda, right at the doors of Angband.

However, when looked at closely, he was a complex character who killed innocents, violated the greatest elven taboo not once, nor twice, but thrice. He was a tortured soul that lost everything, whose end was in utter despair, who sinned so much even his father's own silmarils burnt him. It's not a pretty picture, but he, like incarnadine, make at least for an interesting one.

It's not nice to look at it, but it is so awful that it pulls you in.

This is going to be part of a series of drawings based on the Hue's hue color essays by Katy Kelleher. It is a series of essays I've loved for years so it is pretty exciting to revisit them this way!

Some symbolism I added with this piece is the plant at Maitimo's feet, it is a stinging nettle, which signifies death in another Shakespeare play, Hamlet. I also added black butterflies, which according to a Colombian superstition, signify death as well (not to be confused with brown ones which mean a gift).

[tilion-writes]

@maedhrosmaglorweek

Maedhros & Maglor Week, Day 2: Trust/Distrust “Will all great Ulmo’s ocean wash this blood clean from my hand?” Maglor whispered hoarsely. “No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.” “My hands are of your color,” Maedhros growled, “but I shame to wear a heart so white.”

(A fic about Maedhros & Maglor & Elrond & Elros, set during the Third Kinslaying. Yes, all the dialogue is from Macbeth.)

[cinnamonds]

Macbeth: Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red"

Lady Macbeth: Bitch shut up and take a shower we've got shit to do

[faery-berry-blast]

So I’m not a big stan of Shakespeare but like Macbeth goes so hard

“Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?”

“Make thick my blood Stop up the access and passage to remorse”

Oh my goddddd what a queennnn Lady Macbeth (and Macbeth too I guess) really said let’s fucking kill this man and then be driven insane by guilt and the fear of being found out

“Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red”

[hopefullyababe]

will all great neptunes ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? no. this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.

there isnt any blood on his hands, but there doesnt have to be.

@trashpremiium

edit: HI I JUST FOUND THIS IN MY DRAFTS?? for some reason i never posted it but here

[trashland-llamas]

Blood of the Covenant

‘Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red’

—Macbeth (Act II, Sc. II)

Can also be found on AO3

— — —

‘Am I a good person?’ Simon’s question had Soap owlishly blinking at him. It was rare that Simon expressed his emotions. Wasn’t that he was a stoic bastard, simply struggled to emote. So for it to be a question like that, of course it worried the Scot’s heart like no other. ‘What brought this on? Cause I know it’s not the job.’

‘Check the date Johnny.’ Raking a hand through his hair, removing his mask. ‘Oh, it’s the anniversary. Do you wanna talk about it?’ The anniversary of Simon’s father’s death. Nodding, Soap plopped up from the floor to sit next to him, taking his hand. ‘Take your time.’ Laying on the affection, seeing a few tears fall from his honeyed eyes. ‘I didn’t want to do it but there wasn’t any other way to stop it.’ The echo of a smack, covering his brother’s ears, the constant reminder that it was a house and not a home. It was his job to protect him from harm. How was a shovel between ‘em protection?

‘Stop what?’ Soap only knew his father died. Simon never told him the truth—how he murdered him in cold blood. Was it cold blood if you still cared for the person? That question plagued the soldier’s mind every time the death date came around. ‘He and my ma would get into these awful fights. They’d slowly went from screaming to my pa throwing a bottle in her face to—I couldn’t watch that.’ Hearing the man’s breathing grow heavy, Soap pulled him into his lap.

‘Hey, hey, hey. You will always be Simon Riley to me, no matter what you had to do to survive. If I never get to hear the full story then that’s fine. So yes, you’re a good person despite it all.’ Hand cupping Simon’s cheek, thumb wiping the stray tear away. ‘What did I do to deserve you?’ Acting as if he had to think about it. ‘By being you.’

[briny-0000]

"Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red."

Macbeth, Act II Scene II

[libinih28]

"we would see him washing the blood from them, so he could pray without pollution"

-- madeline miller

"will all great neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? no, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red"

"now my hands are of your color but i shame to wear a heart so white"

-- william shakespeare

"was i ready to be a killer in my child's eyes? ready to greet my mother when she returned home with grave dirt on my hands?"

-- shannon chakraborty