#respect my culture or perish
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*groans* For my own sanity as a native speaker of AAVE, allow me to clarify the following:
Tucker would not sound like that unless he was intentionally trying to make Lucius Fox—a fellow Black man—think he was one of the young, probably-white interns. It sounds culturally incompetent, like they’re trying to be casual with their superior and friendly, but failing so hard that Lucius would be disgusted just reading it. Lucius would 100% not think, “Ah yes, the young Black man who knows how an old head would likely respond to someone being overly familiar,” so yes, it would throw him off initially.
When Lucius figures it out anyway—both for the sake of security and sheer fucking annoyance—Tucker’s probably going to get a pat on the shoulder, a promotion, and a reminder to never refer to an employer who is old enough to be his grandfather as, “Bro,” ever again. IYKYK. Mans prob drafted his formal apology before he hit send, and put it in a folder labeled, “Hi Mr. Fox, I see you caught me. Please read this first.”
If we wanna play it like that, that’s one thing, but what’s up there isn’t, “teen slang,” it’s the misuse of my fucking language. That message is slapped together with zero regard for the fact that this is someone Tucker not only answers to but respects.
He would not speak to a parent, teacher, elder, or even a fellow professional of the same level in that way unless they were close friends. The presumption of closeness to someone who is an elder, as well as your superior multiple times over, is a mad disrespectful microaggression at best from someone who doesn’t speak AAVE. From a native speaker like Tucker is? If he spoke to Lucius like that in front of his parents, they would lose their minds, okay? We know they raised him better. Like, depending on temperaments, that is actual-fighting-words levels of disrespect for a lot of old heads. They been here too damn long to be spoken to any kind of way.
When non-native speakers use our dialect as flavor text, then call it teen slang, it just further infantalizes Black people. It’s gross appropriation, and the reason I can’t get a job in a lot of places if I speak my actual dialect in a work setting. Learn the rules of my language, what the social consequences are for breaking them, and then you can have fun. I love this fandom, but do not bring this into my house.
—A motherfucker tired of play Southern White Woman over the phone because y’all treat my dialect like it’s childish
Tagging @victoria-has-no-secret, @jaytriesstuff and @hypewinter for the sake of getting us all on the same page. Y’all have a day.
Of all the things Tucker was expecting from his first day as an intern for WE, it was not overhearing his boss, Lucius Fox on the phone with Batman.
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I have a request for Noa. Where human reader has been with Eagle Clan for a while. And when a male echo comes and stays for a bit, the reader gets close to him, and Noa doesn't like it. But the reader is only doing it because she thinks Noa wouldn't like a human. But Noa confesses to the reader that he does like her.
I hope that wasn't complicated and it makes sense. 😌
🤣This… I enjoyed this a lot 🤍 thank you for your request! I hope I met your expectations!
AN: my dyslexic ass just reread the request and I totally see where I missed HUMAN MALE and not ape male. My bad y’all! 🥲
~
I Can Do Anything Better Than He Can
Noa x human!reader!
~o0o~
You had travelled along side Mae on the journey to find the divice that could help humans speak again. Help us communicate with others around the fallen world ran by the apes. A lifetime of indoctrination had shaped your perception of apes. You had been taught to fear them, to see them as the invaders who had taken over what once belonged to humans. The idea of understanding or even coexisting with them was a foreign and unwelcome concept in your mind.
Or so you thought.
When the dam exploded and the water rushed in, Mae life you to fend for yourself. Your escape from the flooding vault was a harrowing ordeal, the water rushing in and threatening to consume you. In the chaotic moment, you slipped from the hold you had, falling into the churning depths below, seemingly destined to perish. But then, like an unexpected lifeline, a strong hand grasped your own, pulling you upwards and away from the dangerous current. It was Noa, his grip steady and sure, who had saved you from certain drowning. “I have you.” You still remember his words. No doubt about them.
As you sit alone in your hut, the reality of your current situation sinks in. The very concepts of wrong and right have been turned on their head. Everything you were taught, the doctrines of fearing and hating the apes, seem foreign now. You are now living amongst them, coexisting and interacting with them every day. The realization is both liberating and confusing, a swirling mix of emotions that leaves you questioning everything you once believed to be true.
These creatures, the very beings you had been taught to fear and distrust, have shown nothing but care and kindness towards you. The realization leaves you with a sense of unease, a nagging sensation that everything you had been taught was a lie.
Time had passed, and your life within the eagle clan had become a comfortable and familiar routine. The elders treated you with respect, recognizing your intelligence and resourcefulness. Meanwhile, the younger members of the clan were drawn to your human ways, finding joy in the playful games and activities you brought to their lives. You had found a place for yourself among them, your presence accepted with openness and curiosity.
Noa observes from a distance as you interact with the young apes, a soft smile on his face. There's a gentle affection in his gaze as he takes in the sight of you laughing and playing with the children of his kind. He watches the way you engage with them, effortlessly switching between human and ape gestures and mannerisms. It's a sight that fills him with a mixture of warmth and wonder.
In the countless interactions he had with you, Noa discovered that he was beginning to distinguish your individuality from the collective whole of human society. Your openness and willingness to share your knowledge and experiences intrigued him, sparking a deeper fascination. He found himself not just interested in the history and culture of humans, but more specifically, in the intricacies of you as a person. He longed to understand the nuances of your thoughts, feelings, and perspectives in ways that extended beyond the general human experience. This new fascination both excited and puzzled him.
“You are staring… again.” Anaya teases Noa as they sit together, their duties done for the day. Noa snaps out of his thoughts, realizing that he's been caught once again staring at you. He looks away, a hint of embarrassment in his eyes. "I was not staring… I am watching," he mutters, defensively.
Anaya shoots him a knowing smile, a sly glimmer in her eyes. "Oh, just… watching, hm?" she replies, her tone playful. "You do that lot." Noa huffs, “Echo is here to help teach. I watch. I learn.” Anaya laughs, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "You tell yourself that, Noa," he teases, clearly not buying his excuse. "We both know… something more than just watching and learning.”
Noa struggles to deny the truth, his efforts to repress his feelings proving futile. No matter how much he tries to push them aside, they keep returning with a constant insistence. Every time he looks at you, every time he hears your laughter, the feelings only grow stronger and more intense.
You make a swift escape from the energetic young apes, seeking shelter behind Noa. You giggle, breathless and flushed, your body pressed lightly against his as you use him as a shield. “Help me.” You beg Noa.
The young apes follow you with quick steps, their playful energy undiminished. They spot you behind Noa, their eyes lighting up with excitement as they close the distance. Noa stands his ground, attempting to block the young ones from reaching you. Noa grins at the young apes, his tone playful yet authoritative. "Go on," he says, coaxing the young ones to leave you be. "You have all played with her all evening…Let her rest." The young apes begrudgingly obey his words, their disappointment at their game being cut short obvious, though they reluctantly disperse, off to find other mischief.
You come to sit beside Noa. Resting your head on his shoulder. “Thanks.” You say with a laugh. “They’ve had me running everywhere!” Noa chuckles softly, your head resting on his shoulder sending a surge of warmth through him. "I saw," he responds with a smirk. "Young ones have a lot of energy. Could hear you running around from here."
As Soona takes her seat next to Noa, you reluctantly remove your head from his shoulder, feeling a pang of disappointment as you do. Over the seasons, your feelings for Noa have grown into a full-blown crush. Every moment with him is both thrilling and agonizing, as you struggle to keep your emotions reigned in. But you were not blind, he had such a beautiful bond with Soona. They were sure to find their way to each other one way or another. You wouldn’t stand in the way of that. You couldn't for Noa would not have a human as a mate, as the clan's mother. It was not right.
The sun starts to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the village. The air is filled with the hustle and bustle of the clan preparing for the evening. With a final glance at Noa, Anaya, and Soona, you rise from your seat. "I should head back to my hut. I'll see you tomorrow."
Noa's gaze follows you as you walk away, disappearing into the small hut he spent countless days constructing to ensure your comfort. He lets out a soft sigh, a mixture of resignation and longing etched across his features. The thought of spending his nights in that very hut, with you, is a tempting fantasy that he can't quite shake off.
“Echo is going hunting… with Khan tomorrow,” Soona says as she watches her friend's eyes stuck on your hut. Both Anaya and Soona could tell Noa felt something for you.
Noa's gaze is still fixed on your hut as Soona's words reach his ears. He turns to face her, a hint of surprise in his expression. "Hunting... with Khan?" he echoes, his mind momentarily distracted from his thoughts. Anaya and Soona share a knowing look, their observant eyes picking up on the subtle indicators of Noa's feelings without him even realizing.
Noa's eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of confusion and perhaps the slightest hint of jealousy in his gaze. "Why would she go hunting with Khan?" he wonders aloud. "She's always hunts with me..." Anaya and Soona exchange a glance, both silently recognizing Noa's unspoken emotions for you. If they could only get him to stop being so stubborn.
It's Anaya who breaks the silence, her voice gentle but pointed. "Perhaps Echo wants a change of pace," he suggests, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Maybe wanted to spend time with other apes… not just Noa.”
Noa lets out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes at the suggestion. He retorts, his tone a mix of annoyance and growing suspicion. "She knows all of the clan. There's not an ape who does not enjoy her company…Why would she want to hunt with Khan…of all apes?"
Anaya smirks, “Noa is jealous.” He is quickly smacked by Soona with a disappointed glare. "Jealous?" Noa scoffs, attempting to backtrack, his denial not as convincing as he'd like. "not jealous... I do not understand why Echo… would choose to go hunting with Khan… instead of me." Khan, while a decent hunter, paled in comparison to Noa's own skills. Noa knew, deep down, that he could provide you with everything Khan couldn't. The realization only serves to fuel his growing jealousy.
You step out of your hut, greeting the morning with a weary smile. The dawn light filters through the trees, casting a faint glow on your face. A sense of anticipation mixes with exhaustion in your expression, the upcoming hunting trip adding to your weariness but also sparking a hint of excitement.
You make your way through the village, exchanging warm greetings with the apes you pass along the way. As you approach Dar, you come to a stop, a friendly smile on your face. "Good morning, Dar," you say, your voice still tinged with a hint of sleepiness. Dar, as usual, embarrasses you with the fond gesture, her forehead touching yours in a warm greeting. Despite the early hour and your half-awake state, you can't help but smile at her affection.
As you look around the area, a hint of disappointment crosses your features when you don't spot Noa among the apes. You had hoped to catch a glimpse of him before departing on the hunting trip, but it seems he's nowhere to be found.
You turn your gaze to Dar, curiosity and a hint of disappointment in your voice. "Where is Noa?" Dar cocks her head to the side, her eyes scanning the surroundings. "Noa?" she muses. "He was here earlier… was packing for trip.” Your brows furrow but brush it off just as quickly.
You head towards the horses, your mind still preoccupied with thoughts of where Noa might be. As you approach, you spot Khan, diligently preparing his own horse for the upcoming hunting trip.
“Almost ready?”
Khan looks up from what he's doing, a confident smile on his lips. "Almost ready," he responds, his tone assured. "Just a few… adjustments.” He pats the side of the horse, his hand gently grazing its neck in a soothing gesture.
Khan had always been kind to you, a friendly presence in the clan. He would often bring small collections of berries to you and offer his help with gentle gestures. In many ways, he was a good ape, and you found yourself drawn to his affable demeanor. But deep down, you knew that your heart longed for Noa, and as much as you wanted to move on, it wasn't as easy as flipping a switch.
As you're about to mount Khan's horse and feel his touch on your lower back, a familiar voice cuts through the air, making you pause. You turn around to find Noa, sitting atop his horse and looking at you both with a steady gaze. "Care if I join?" he asks, a determined, almost smug expression on his face.
You smile at him and walk a step close to him. Simply drawn to his form. “Noa!”
Noa smiles back at you, his eyes locking onto your form as you move slightly closer to him. Your voice, saying his name, ignites a flicker of warmth within him.
Khan, his expression neutral, considers Noa's request. "Why do you want to come?" he asks, a hint of suspicion in his tone. The two had never been close, simply acquaintances. Noa's gaze is firm as he locks eyes with Khan, his voice carrying a hint of bitter determination. "As the leader… it's my duty to provide for the clan," he responds, emphasizing his role and responsibility.
Khan, choosing not to test Noa's leadership, simply nods in acknowledgment. He extends his hand towards you, silently offering to help you mount his horse. Noa's hand quickly finds your arm, pulling you towards his horse with a firm but gentle grip. "Ride with me," he states, his voice matter-of-fact. He steadies you as you find your balance on the shared saddle, a silent act of declaration.
Riding together wasn't an unusual sight in the clan, but there was something different about this time. There was a sense of forcefulness in Noa's actions, as if he was intentionally asserting his presence, making it clear that he was there, right behind you. As to where Khan was merely feet away, alone, on his horse.
Khan dismounts from his horse and crouches down to observe the tracks on the ground. He carefully studies the marks left behind, his eyes focused and analytical. You slide off Noa's horse and move closer to Khan, crouching down to observe the tracks that have caught his attention. Pointing forward towards the lush forest, you indicate the direction you believe the prints lead to. "This way," you suggest, your voice certain and sure.
Noa, his leadership instincts in full display, takes the lead without a word, striding ahead with an air of determination. He doesn't need to speak; his body language and actions alone convey his confidence and authority. Khan, watching from behind, cannot help but silently scoff at Noa's behavior. It's clear to him that Noa is attempting to assert his dominance, trying to outshine Khan in every possible way.
Khan, determined not to be overshadowed by Noa, moves to walk alongside him, maintaining a similar stance and speed. He doesn't say anything, but his body language indicates that he refuses to be dominated or intimidated.
You trail slightly behind Noa and Khan, your attention solely focused on the tracks ahead of you. You move with purpose, your eyes fixed on the ground beneath you, following the trail that leads deeper into the lush forest. You follow the trail in silence, Noa and Khan side by side. The forest is alive with the soft rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds.
Suddenly, a faint sound, a squeal, reaches your ears. It's soft, distant, but undeniably out of place. Noa's ears twitch, expression furrowing in concentration as he picks up on the noise too.
All three of you freeze, your focus shifting to the bushes that had rustled. Noa's sharp eyes zero in on the movement, and he points, a tense whisper breaking the silence. "There!" Khan and Noa immediately sprint through the trees, their trained hunter instincts kicked into gear. They move with incredible speed, their bodies weaving through the forest with ease. The chase is on.
You reach Noa and Khan, your breath slightly labored, just in time to see the two warriors cornering a wild, enraged bore. Its tusks are blood-stained and its eyes burn with fury. The beast is trapped, but it isn't giving up without a fight.
Khan strikes the first blow, his determination to prove himself driving his actions. However, his effort is met with a swift and brutal response from the hog. It charges at him with a ferocious speed, easily brushing off his spear attack as if it was mere child's play.
As Khan cries out in pain and the wild hog continues its relentless attack, you instinctively move forwards to aiding him. However, Noa swiftly grabs your arm, preventing you from getting closer. Noa bides his time, waiting for the right moment, before springing into action to assist Khan. He cautiously approaches the fight, assessing the situation and finding the perfect opening to join the battle.
Noa waits until the boar raises up on its hind legs, preparing to plunge its tusks into Khan. Then, with a swift and fearless move, he throws his spear, aiming it perfectly into the beast. The spear pierces the boar's flesh, and the two start to fight, a fierce struggle unfolding between Noa and the wild animal.
While Khan had been easily overpowered by the boar, Noa was a different story. His strength and agility were much greater, and he managed to stay on top of the hog, struggling fiercely with the enraged beast. Noa, being the skilled hunter that he was, quickly put an end to the animal's suffering. He used his superior skill and strength to overpower and subdue the boar, bringing the fight to a swift conclusion.
Noa, his pride inflated after his successful defeat of the boar, turns around, expecting to find you watching him with admiration and respect. Instead, he sees you by Khan's side, inspecting his injuries with concern. The sight of you tending to the wounded ape triggers a pang of jealousy in Noa.
Khan sits on the forest floor, his expression a mixture of shock and anger. Had his leader really just allowed him to be mangled on purpose? He meets Noa's gaze with an intensity that borders on hostility. The two males lock eyes, the tension palpable between them.
You glance nervously between the two apes, your eyes darting back and forth as the tension between them builds. The air is thick with animosity, and you can feel the hostile energy radiating from both Noa and Khan.
Khan's words are sharp and accusatory as he looks directly at Noa. "You should have helped." The accusation hangs in the air, and you can feel the tension grow even thicker. Noa bristles at the comment, his expression clouding with irritation. Noa, his pride wounded by Khan's accusation, responds with a biting retort. "You could have more hunting skills," he shoots back, his tone laced with sarcasm. The two apes are locked in a battle of wits and male egos now.
You step forward and raise your hands in a gesture of peace, trying to diffuse the growing tension. "Okay, let's just all calm down," you say, your voice steady and calming. You turn to Noa, confusion evident in your eyes, wondering why he's behaving this way. His actions are so unlike him, and it concerns you deeply.
You assist Khan in getting back onto his horse, your touch gentle and supportive. Meanwhile, Noa remains behind, diligently tying the dead bore to the horse to transport it back to the clan. He's eager for the praises he expects to receive from the clan. Tries to push forward a civil expression. However, his emotions betray him and a deeper feeling - jealousy, fueled by his possessive and ego-driven behavior plants in his chest.
You assist Khan in getting back to his horse, your touch gentle and supportive. Meanwhile, Noa remains behind, diligently tying the dead bore to the horse to transport it back to the clan. He's likely eager for the praises he expects to receive from the clan mates. However, his expression betrays a deeper feeling - jealousy, fueled by his possessive and ego-driven behavior.
You look at Khan with concerned eyes, a worried furrow in your brow. "Are you sure you can make it back on your own?" you ask, clearly concerned for his well-being. Khan looks past you, his gaze lingering on Noa for a moment, likely noticing the displeasure on his face. He nods, responding to your query with a determined tone. "Yes… I will make it… it is not far." Despite his injury, Khan seems confident that he can make it back to the clan on his own.
You turn to face Noa, your eyes meeting his in a silent exchange. Khan, still suffering from his injury, rides off slowly and gingerly holds his wound. The air is filled with an uncomfortable silence. Noa expertly tightens the latch on the bore, ensuring it's secure and won't fall off during the journey back to the clan. His hands work with precision, and he seems focused on the task at hand, avoiding your gaze.
You stand behind Noa, your presence silent but palpable. When he turns to see you there, he huffs in annoyance. "You're still here." Your reply is brief and puzzled. "Yeah?" Noa's shoulders hitch as he speaks, his chest heaving with an undertone of jealousy. "Thought you would go back to the clan... with Khan," he reiterates, a hint of possessiveness in his voice.
You're surprised by Noa's possessive and jealous tone. This isn't the first time you've done things with Khan, but it is the first time Noa has witnessed it. You shake your head softly, your expression a mix of confusion and frustration. You respond with a hint of sarcasm and a raise of your brow. "Am I not allowed to have other friends, Noa?" Your irritation is evident as you scoffs at his behavior, challenging his possessive attitude.
Noa's gaze drops to the ground, and he mutters under his breath, sounding bitter and resentful. "Friends..." He clearly has doubts about the nature of your relationship with Khan.
You're absolutely stunned by Noa's bitter words and the tone he's using. You ask in a bewildered tone, "What are you talking about?" You're completely taken aback by his sudden display of jealousy and possessiveness. Noa's voice is firm as he turns to face you fully, his eyes locked on yours. "You and Khan...are not good for… mates," he asserts, his tone filled with possessiveness. "He can not protect you…He can not provide what you need to survive…" His words hang in the air, each one dripping with jealousy and resentment.
You're puzzled by his words and his intense focus on your relationship with Khan. Why did Noa care about who you chose as your mate? The possessive and jealous behavior was quite unexpected and out of character. It left you wondering what was really going on inside his head.
You decide to test him, playing along with the idea. "Why not?" you say with a hint of confidence. "He seems like a good choice." Your words are meant to provoke a reaction from Noa, to see if he's truly as possessive and jealous as he appears to be.
Noa's eyes burn brighter with intense jealousy, his words spilling out in a venomous tone. "Khan is weak...can not do everything...I can do." His stance is rigid, his pride wounded by the idea of you choosing anyone other than him. You meet his gaze, your expression filled with a mix of confusion and skepticism. "You?" you ask, your tone almost challenging.
Noa's demeanor is defensive, his jealousy and possessiveness bubbling just beneath the surface. He takes a step closer to you, his chest heaving with each breath. Noa, his anger and jealousy reaching a boiling point, yells out confidently, "I can do anything better than he can." He practically spits the words, clearly consumed by his intense feelings of possessiveness and superiority.
You can't help but feel amused as a smile slowly spreads across your face. Seeing Noa all worked up and jealous over the idea of you being with someone else was oddly entertaining. You fix your gaze on him, a hint of amusement in your eyes. "Noa?" you ask with a smirk, "are you jealous?" Your question hangs in the air, and Noa hesitates for a moment before responding, trying to mask his true feelings, but failing miserably. Your laughter breaks the tense silence. "Well looks like Anaya was right," you say, a hint of mockery in your voice. Noa's reaction to your words confirms your suspicions, and you're enjoying every second of it.
Noa's expression quickly changes from anger to surprise as you mention his friend Anaya. "Anaya?" he parrots, his tone laced with surprise and disbelief. You continue, saying that Anaya had warned you about him getting jealous, but you hadn't believed it. Noa's confidence wavers as he processes this new information, his jealousy now exposed.
Noa's shoulders sag, clearly embarrassed that his jealousy is out in the open now. He huffs, his expression a mix of irritation and vulnerability. After a moment, he looks at you, his eyes betraying the truth. "Fine, I'm jealous. Happy now?" Noa's tone is laced with a hint of defeat, his pride taking a hit.
You step closer to Noa, your touch gentle as you grab onto his arm. Your voice is softer, no longer teasing. "You shouldn't be," you say, looking into his eyes with a hint of kindness. Noa's gaze drifts away, avoiding yours as he asks, "Why?" His voice is laced with vulnerability and a hint of self-doubt. He's struggling to come to terms with his own feelings, and your words and actions have stirred something within him.
Noa's eyes meet yours as you gently turn his face back towards you. The words you utter, "Because, I like you, Noa," hang in the air, and you can see a mixture of surprise and relief wash over his features. His jealousy seems to melt away, replaced by a softness and vulnerability that was previously hidden.
Noa's eyes widen in surprise as he asks, "What?" He had been so blinded by his jealousy and possessiveness that he hadn't expected to hear those words from you. It was as if his mind was trying to process the reality of your admission. “Was I not clear enough? Who else do I lean on during dinner? Who else do I spend time with?"
Noa's expression turns from shock to a mixture of realization and mild embarrassment. ou can practically see the pieces coming together in his mind. Yes, he had been blind to your actions, but now they were so obvious. The subtle cues, the time spent together - all signs pointing towards your affection for him.
Noa sees the truth in your eyes, the admission of your feelings. "You like… me..." he says softly, his voice filled with disbelief and a hint of relief. The realization slowly settles in, and a mixture of emotions washes over him. There's a hint of surprise, a hint of relief, and above all, a growing affection. He looks at you, his eyes searching your face for any sign that this was all just a cruel joke. But he finds none. You genuinely like him, and the thought makes his heart race. You shrug, “I thought you’d never find an echo… suitable. I figured Soona would be your mate.”
Noa's eyes widen at your words, the mention of Soona bringing back a rush of memories. "Soona?" he asks, his voice tinged with surprise. He'd had a great bond with Soona but had never considered her as a potential mate. More as a sibling.
As his emotions at the surface, he quickly reached for you. He pulls you into his arms, and your foreheads touch in a gesture of deep connection. It's a moment filled with tenderness and intensity as he holds you close, the weight of his affection and relief pouring out through this intimate embrace.
Noa's resolve solidifies, and his grip on you tightens. The thought of you being his, and the whole clan knowing, gives him a sense of possessive pride.
#noa planet of the apes#pota noa#noa pota#noa#noa x human reader#noa x reader#kingdom of the planet of the apes#kotpota#noa kotpota#owen teague
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The hypothetical debates surrounding the whole "Lady and Lord Whistledown" vs "Colin and Penelope Bridgerton" make me wither because
Lady and Lord Whistledown.
I'm telling you, this shit would be so fucking funny. I can picture it in my mind's eye: Bridgerton season 4, we get a quick shot of Colin and Penelope talking shit and giggling like crazy in the background, maybe with some PDA to match because Colin can't keep his hands off her, only to hear a male voice actor of a similar calibre to our angel Julie Andrews join in sometimes while Charlotte picks up the paper and cackles. Obviously, the reveal would happen, but I want to believe that our Queen would be down for Whistledown to continue as long as it doesn't get too personal. It would be kind of unfair and a bit indicative of the period, monarchy and all, but Charlotte being in on it would amp up the comedy points. Plus some ~historical cultural commentary~ would just be that final flavouring of spice.
It would kind of feel like Colin's turning to the dark side because we've already seen quite a few scenes where he seems possessed by Lady Whistdown's attitude and I love the idea of him coming from hating Lady Whistledown's guts to protecting her and joining in because it's fun and it activated his little shit reflex. Plus the subtextual implications of just how much Colin and Penelope actually are best friends and are connected beyond normalcy would just be *chef's kiss*
I would also love it because it feels very partner-in-crime vibes, giving another aspect to their relationship that would be fun to see. Combined with the power Lady Whistledown has on the story, we'd be guaranteed to see our beans quite a lot. Also a "Hello, my Lady," followed by a "Hello, my Lord" after a particularly steamy scene would literally have me shaking crying giggling dancing kicking my feet.
As for Penelope, it honestly depends on how you view her character and her relationship with Lady Whistledown. If the person in question thinks that Lady Whistledown is a vital part of her personality, an aspect of who she is, limiting her by making her quit would just feel really, really sad, man. Lady Whistledown has caused Pen a lot of grief, however, and we see it a lot throughout the story, so I think Colin being there, sharing the secret and partaking would make her feel much more comfortable in her own skin.
Anyway. Love the idea, and would perish if it happened, but probably won't.
Colin and Penelope Bridgerton.
This one's more cute than anything else. Two writers as a couple release solo and joint works sometimes while establishing their reputation as respectable authors and leaving Lady Whistledown behind them. I can see another scene in my mind's eye, Colin and Pen are sitting across from each other on their respective writing desks, writing and then handing each other their work to review and give opinions, paired with a kiss after they start teasing each other about their writing. Considering that the designated Sexy Desk Scene has already been taken, this would have to be in a secluded area or in their bedroom. And then shots of people buying their books and enjoying them would ensue.
With the amount of journals and letters and things Colin's done, he's practically primed for an author's role. Maybe they can be more exposed to Colin's love for travel in this version. Having Penelope with him on his trips while writing their little hearts out would be adorable. Sadly, though, this would mean that they would probably have less screen time.
If you see Lady Whistledown as an outlet for the suffering Penelope was going through throughout the story, she wouldn't need Lady Whistledown anymore and abandon the alias because she's served her purpose as Penelope's coping mechanism, and Colin and Penelope would find their fix through other means. Maybe continuing to gossip but only between the two of them, going back to the beginning of the series and the final link to their relationship.
It's been established over and over again that they both love reading, writing, gossiping, and discussing all things philosophical. And each other for enjoying those qualities. So, I think this dynamic would be particularly interesting because it would be yet another way to connect. They could probably also make each other all hot and bothered by leaving random sexy letters sporadically, which would just be so fitting, tbh. However, that would also work for the Lady and Lord Whistledown dynamic so it's kind of a null point. It would be hot, though.
And, yeah, that's how I see those hypothetical dynamics playing out and how that would affect the characters. But now for the negatives. While I love the Lord Whistledown idea, I do think that Colin is a bit too nice and cute for that, and it would probably be a bit OOC, especially because of his personal experiences with Whistledown, it would be a bit weird if his tune suddenly changed to "yeah, I know gossip can ruin someone's life, but I like it now, so I don't care." But I also just can't fathom Bridgerton without Lady Whistledown, and this idea hinges on literally removing the narrator and source of all the tea, as well as making us lose our angel Julie Andrews. At least the Lady and Lord Whistledown idea fulfills almost all fronts of their relationship dynamic.
Again, as the GIF demonstrates, both are good, and I love both of them for the different ways they would take the characters, but let's be real, a combo would be really fun as well. Like Pen keeps up with Lady Whistledown while Colin writes his own books or smth.
Anyway, enough of my rambling. Bye.
#polin#bridgerton#polin bridgerton#penelope x colin#colin x penelope#colin bridgerton#penelope featherington#penelope bridgerton#lady whistledown#lord whistledown
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My Gods Are Not Kind to Lonely Mothers
Chapter 2: Trying to Understand
Ch. 1 | Masterlist 🖤
4.3K words // Din Djarin x pregnantf!reader
Pairing: Din Djarin x pregnantf!reader (Reader is younger but not weirdly young) Reader was a sex worker. Reader’s first language is one I made up she speaks pretty good basic but struggles finding certain words. Reader is pregnant!
Summary: How can Din understand and respect your plans without being apart of them? He tries to help, but your stubbornness rivals that of a Mandalorian.
Tags: SLOW BURN, Some fluff, made up Star Wars culture & religion, split POV, slight language barrier, mention of death, mention of child death, dark!, lots of relationship building in this.
Warnings: mention of child loss and grief.
A/n: Alright so let me explain Illa-ishi real quick because I never want to get the wrong idea across. Illa-ishi are mainly single mothers who birth at the lower pool of the Mountain of Mothers. The reason why Illa-ishi give birth at the lower pool and pass away, isn’t the gods punishing them for being single mothers. The journey up to the lower pool when a mother is in the throws of birth is so rigorous and difficult without the help of their partner that many perish from exhaustion. By the time they make it up the cliff to the lower pool some do not even have energy to give birth which is why there are skeletons in the bed rolls. Please comment or ask me questions if anything is ever unclear! Also I know this is a shorter chapter than Ch. 1, I initially wanted this to be a two part series but I found I have more to write than I thought. Anyways, enjoy this soft chapter! I will update this series every Friday.
Standing in the pool, you felt his hand on the right side of your waist. He'd carried you from the spot near the cliff into the shallow end of the hot spring and set you down into the water as if you were sacred. Paralyzed by the sudden display of kindness after the last months spent alone, you felt the cold metal of his helmet lean heavily on the back of your head.
A slow fear crept up from somewhere deep inside the traumatized confines of your heart, the fear immobilizing you to his actions just as they'd done the night he paid for your company. Frozen in place, thoughts of him pushing you into the spring and drowning you flooded your mind. Then you felt his left hand rest on the small of your back, leading you to think he'd take you again as he'd done in the expensive room back on Tatooine. You'd worked in that brothel for years and saw the desperation of men in need, the aftermath of what they'd done to women they had no emotional attachment for.
Just as you started to form a plan of action against him, you heard the softest noise from behind. It took maybe thirty seconds for the sound to register within your mind – he was crying. The strangled sound of a sob left the static of the modulator on his helmet, which was then followed by the most sincere "I'm sorry" you'd heard since the day your father had sold you.
For a moment, you just looked ahead at the milky waters of the spring and the steam swirling around you. The small green baby that the Mandalorian had brought with him sat nearby the shallow end of the pool, gazing into the water below, his small hand chasing the steaming swirls that rose into the air. You felt the life within you stir, your contractions coming inconsistently now, almost as if your body was confused. The warmth of the leather-clad hand on your right side tightened slightly as you heard one more sob break over the roar of the waterfall.
In a show of cosmic irony, you couldn’t help the small but sad smile that graced your lips as you trailed your bandaged right hand up to lace your fingers over the back of his hand, and you spoke, “Don’t cry.”
His sobs seemed to quiet, as if he hadn't expected your touch, your reassurance. The tension in his grip lessened. After a moment of his head resting on the back of yours, you assumed he regained his composure as he slowly pulled away. Shyly, you looked over your shoulder and offered a small tearful smile to his visor before turning your attention back to the spring. Taking careful steps forward, you found a place to lower yourself back once more into the murky depths. You moved to sit where your back was resting on the jagged rock wall.
Out of your peripheral vision, you saw him standing in the same spot. His hands were frozen in the air where they’d rested on your body, until he slowly clenched his fists and lowered them back to his sides.
He stood like a statue just looking at you, his weight shifted to his left, the grey of the flightsuit around his knees now a dark grey from the spring's water. The edge of his grey cape touched the surface of the spring, wetting the frayed and somewhat burned seams.
You felt an awkward discomfort as his helmet seemed locked in your direction. It really made you uneasy that you couldn’t tell where his gaze was or what emotion was on his face. Was he happy? He had cried… you had done the same when you found out.
“You-”
“What’s-”
You both spoke over one another in unison, causing a blush to creep up your neck as you looked away. As if some unseen force felt the tension in the air, the small green child, enamored with the steam of the spring, fell face first into the warm water.
“Grogu!” The Mandalorian’s voice bordered on panicked as he moved from his stiff position to where the child had fallen in. In a swift movement, the Mandalorian had grabbed the child by the tan robe he wore, pulling it to the surface within seconds of the splash. The child blinked his large eyes frantically as he let out some displeased grunts. Holding the child above the water now, the Mandalorian looked the child over and then moved to hold him in his arms. “We’ve talked about this…” The Mandalorian sighed as he looked at the child. You couldn't help the smile that graced your face.
"Does it get into problems?" You spoke carefully as you tried to remember the words in basic.
Being on your homeworld was the happiest you’d felt in years, and slipping back into Kith, your native language, was like putting on your favorite dress. But coming out of Kith back into basic was proving challenging; maybe the Mandalorian spoke Huttese, which you knew almost as well as basic.
“Yeah…he does,” the words fell in a resigned huff from the man clad in silver as he held the now dripping child.
“Oh…Is he…your child?” You asked slowly as you gauged the man’s reaction. Your eyes flicked from his helmet to the water covering your belly where your hands fidgeted under the water. Anxiety filled your thoughts as you waited for his response.
After a painfully long silence, the Mandalorian sighed and shifted to set the green child on the ledge of the spring nearby and sat next to the child, leaving his covered feet in the spring. Adjusting his cape as he sat, he turned to run a gloved hand over the child’s tan robe before speaking in your direction.
“It won’t look like him…if that’s what you’re asking,” he said dryly, and your head snapped in his direction, studying him for a moment before you thought he might be trying to joke. A smile graced your lips as you moved in the water to slowly approach him. Your right hand held onto the spring’s rocky wall as you moved towards him and the child who fidgeted with a metal object around his neck. Within a foot of the child, you looked the soaking baby over with a cocked eyebrow and critical eye before turning to face the Mandalorian.
“He is…” you paused, trying to find the word in basic as you felt a rush to do so, “…c-ute,” you sounded out the word slowly and looked up at the man sheepishly as the child made a surprised “eh!” sound and smiled toothily at you.
“Basic isn’t your first language?” It was almost not a question from the Mandalorian, and you couldn’t help but feel a hot embarrassment from his tone.
“No,” you said as you turned away again, caressing your belly under the water, “I am Kith.”
“I am Mandalorian,” he said, and you thought he might be patronizing you.
“I see and know,” you retorted back as you shot a soft glare his way.
A sound emanated from his helmet, and you thought it might be a sigh. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he started to say as he reached into his bandolier for something. “I am Mandalorian, but I am different from other Mandalorians. I am bound by a creed.” He pulled out a piece of paper as he spoke, and you recognized the paper immediately. “The Mountain of Mothers…” he spoke again as he unfolded the pamphlet. “You’re here because you believe in this?” He asked as he looked over the paper.
You eyed the pamphlet that Don Mai must have so generously forced into the bounty hunter’s hand. Your eyes trailed from the pamphlet back to his helmet, and you nodded your head yes.
“I understand,” he says as he looks over the pamphlet, the child next to him suddenly taking interest as well. “The creed I believe in… it is my responsibility to take care of foundlings.” His helmeted gaze shifts slightly from the pamphlet to the child next to him.
“Found-i-ling?” you repeat the word back to him slowly in confusion.
His head turns to look at you, and he hands the pamphlet to the child who plays with the paper.
“Foundling,” he confirms with a small nod. “Children who are adopted by my people, warriors of Mandalore… This is the Way.”
Your gaze moves from his to the child next to him, and you nod.
“He is found-i-ling,” you say in confirmation as you nod your head toward the green child.
The Mandalorian nods in confirmation, and you see his hands clench the edge of the rock.
“And you…” he starts, “you are also my responsibility...”
You hated that word. Responsibility. Such a long word that was so often thrown in your face as a guilt tactic. The foreman who your father had sold you to made sure you always had responsibilities.
You were no more than eight when your father had sold you to the greasy man on Tatooine, and your life had been work ever since. The foreman wasn’t completely cruel; there were masters on Tatooine that were far worse. You had a bed, food, and even a bath. The foreman protected you from disgusting prying eyes of patrons who thought you were merchandise and not just a helping hand. But he also worked you to the bone, washing pillows, washing gowns, sewing gowns, steaming tapestry, cleaning the rooms, making meals, fixing the building, making errand runs – your responsibilities.
“No,” the word fell from your lips as if it were law. The Mandalorian’s head tilted towards you as if he didn’t hear you.
“Yes. You are my responsibility,” he repeats. “This is the Way.”
“No.” The word was slightly more harsh coming out as you turned to face him now. The sun had finally fallen behind the sky, and you were almost surrounded in darkness as you stared him down.
You could sense his hesitation, the momentary lapse in response, but the Mandalorian was resolute. “It is the Way. We take care of our own. The Creed guides me, and I cannot abandon my responsibilities.”
The weight of those words hung in the air, the silence stretching between you. The cold grip of your past life clawed at your heart, and you couldn't bear the thought of being bound by another's expectations. You had yearned for freedom, for a chance to shape your own destiny, and here, in the darkening solitude of the hot spring, those dreams seemed to be slipping away.
—
Your face was starting to turn pink from the heat of the spring as the word left your mouth. Din sat there staring, or truthfully, he was glaring at you from under his helmet. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say your stubbornness made you more a Mandalorian than it did a Kith. He battled with himself; this was not a place he wanted to be.
Din had always been careful when it came to his intimate business. When he and Xi’an would mess around, he would always pull out even though he knew she had an implant. He’d never actually finished inside anyone before, not until he’d taken you. To ease his guilt, he had told himself it was because of his inebriated state, but he knew by the time he’d slowly stripped you in that warmly lit room, the Corellian Whiskey had worn off. Maybe it had been because you were the first virgin he’d ever taken, the tightness of your heat on his fingers like a Dathomirian witch's call. Maybe you were a witch, which is what he was trying to understand, trying to learn more about you.
His eyes had scanned the pamphlet now being crumpled by Grogu’s hands. He realized the Mountain of Mothers was a sacred place, much like the living waters on Mandalore. The stubborn part of him wanted to scoop you from the spring and carry you back to his ship to take you to Mandalore, but he couldn’t do that. You were too close to birth and he really had no place to interrupt your plans… plans he hadn’t been a part of. The dark parts of his mind reminded him.
"What is your plan?" He found himself asking you. He watched as you looked up at him from your spot beneath the comforting spring waters, your brow furrowing. You had placed your right arm on the surface ridge of the pool and had laid your head down to watch Grogu.
"I will rest here," your voice sounding tired, your hair damp from the steam as you offered a sad smile.
"For how long?" He asked next, watching your face carefully to gauge your emotions.
You shrugged and looked down at your belly. "Until Noona arrives.”
Please. Kriff. Please don’t let Noona be the name for this child, his child. He cringed internally.
"Noo-na?" He repeated back, trying to hold down the unhappy tone of his voice. You nodded your head as if he was an idiot.
"Noona," you said with a nod. "Or… Baby."
He breathed a sigh of relief, just Kith for baby.
"Then what?" He asked as Grogu stirred next to him, clambering up into the Mandalorian's lap, leaving a trail of water and the now soggy pamphlet behind as he climbed.
"We rest," you said sadly.
He didn’t want to admit it, but he was getting frustrated with this beat around the bantha approach.
"After you rest?" His voice sounded a bit more terse than he intended. He watched as your head snapped up at him in annoyance, feeling confusion at your sharp reaction.
"We rest," you replied back, matching his terseness.
"For how long?" He gritted his teeth.
You splashed the water as you threw your hands up slightly and glared at him. "Forever!" You shouted back at him, and confusion laced his face.
"I don’t understand," he replied, as Grogu pulled at his bandolier from his lap, a sign he was getting hungry.
A moment of silence lapsed as your gaze slowly traveled to the skeletons surrounding the pool, now shrouded in darkness. You sighed as you looked at the remains mournfully and then slowly back to your belly.
"Illa-ishi come here to rest, forever," you said.
The skeletons and bone fragments all made sense in his mind now, and it made him sick.
"What?" His voice was laced with confusion and a hint of anger.
Before he could register the emotions swirling in his chest, he was already standing up in the water. Grogu, sensing the shift, looked up warily at his father. The Mandalorian glanced over at the pack leaning against the black jagged rock next to your bedroll, and he moved towards it out of the water.
—
Your heart raced as you watched the Mandalorian abruptly leave the spring and walk towards your pack and bedroll. You watched with bated breath as he set down the green child next to your pack on the ground and knelt down to your bedroll.
"NO!" You shouted as you watched him start to roll the bedroll back up. You quickly moved from your position in the water, walking carefully towards the edge. In an instant, he was moving in front of you, leaving the small child behind. It frightened you to see the speed at which he moved, the menacing aura he gave off as he moved to bend down, eye level with you.
He rested one hand on his right knee and the other hand on the ground next to him as he spoke.
"I am trying to understand your culture, but I will not allow you both to die here," his voice was menacing and sharp, bringing tears to your eyes.
"We are meant to die here," your words came out laced in pain and fear as you tried to stare him down. His hands balled into fists as he stared back at you.
"Why," he asked, and you could tell he was angry, and it wasn't fair.
Why was he angry when he had played no part in the last months?
You instantly felt remorse at that thought.
Throughout your whole pregnancy, you wouldn't allow yourself to think ill thoughts of him, afraid they might pass into Noona. Really, it wasn't his fault. You had no way of contacting him.
After your night with him, you'd taken your cut from the foreman and bought transport off of Tatooine. You spent weeks hopping planets and seeing different worlds, grateful for the credits you'd saved over the years, but even more so thankful for the six thousand credits that bought your freedom.
When you found out you were pregnant, you'd been staying on the mining world of Gorse, visiting the moon Cynda known for its illustrious thorillide crystal mines. You felt as if your freedom was snatched from you once again.
You knew this meant you were destined to be Illa-ishi and knew you'd be birthing a dead baby at the lower pool. It hurt, and you felt it wasn't fair, to you or the life inside you. A life that wouldn't exist outside of your own body, which is why you hadn't even bothered seeking out the Mandalorian.
Besides, all you had to go off of was the sigil on his pauldron, and since the Empire decimated Mandalore, it was impossible that you could find him again. Most Mandalorians had gone into hiding, and being already two months pregnant, there wasn't enough time to try and figure it out. You had accepted that you would be alone, that you were Illa-ishi, and that you could only enjoy the months ahead while Noona grew inside you.
You had traveled back to Kith in your fifth month of pregnancy and taken up work alongside Don Mai, the self-appointed mayor who graciously offered you a job in the fuel station. But soon your time was up, and you'd started your journey three days ago with the accepted belief that you'd never leave the Mountain of Mothers.
Still, the rational part of your mind sympathized with the man staring you down. You honestly believed you wouldn't see him again, and yet here he was. You knew that Kith was a planet along the outer rim, and nobody cared to understand your culture. Your people were not warriors like Mandalorians, nor powerful witches like Dathomirians. Your people were peaceful and slow.
Don Mai had a point about one thing, "People need to see the wealth of culture we have here. Kith would want the galaxy to know of the sacrifices he made for his wife."
—
Your eyes searched his visor, and he watched as you struggled internally. For a moment, he felt shame at his tone because it elicited a glassy look in your eyes, but he was angry. Not angry at you but more angry with himself. He sat eye level with you, waiting for your explanation when he heard a sigh leave your lips.
“Illa-ishi do not make it to the upper pool to give birth,” Your words offered little to soothe his confused anger. He opened his mouth to speak, but you continued, “Illa-ishi die at this pool with our babes, as a price for our solitude.”
He couldn't believe what he was hearing. You truly believed you would die here, along with the life he helped create. He rose from the crouched position as he looked down at you in the now looming darkness.
He studied your face for a moment before his eyes drifted lower to your full breasts and belly. A twinge of pride at the sight of you was quickly extinguished by the look on your face. You looked sad, like you didn't want to believe what you did, like some part of you wanted to make it to the upper pool. Slowly he extended his right hand down to you before he spoke, “You are not alone, not anymore.”
—
Helping you from the pool carefully, he watched the steaming water rush off your body, leaving droplets all around you. A shiver quickly rushed through you, and he cursed himself for not being more prepared when he left his ship. He didn't even bring Grogu a snack. He stood in front of you, unconsciously zoned out as he tried to think of his next steps.
He didn't realize how uncomfortable you'd become by his gaze until you moved your hands to cover yourself in shame. Your face was flushed pink, and he realized you assumed he'd been standing there staring at you like some teenage boy. He felt a rush of embarrassment; he normally never spared a thought for anyone, never cared what they thought, but for some reason, he really didn't want you to think ill of him.
"Get back in the water," his voice was low, and it almost startled you.
He saw the look of confusion on your face, and he sighed audibly. "Just… you'll be warmer in the water until I can make a fire," he said reluctantly, and he watched your eyebrows shoot up.
"A fire?" You almost sounded excited.
He nodded as he moved to help you situate yourself back into the water.
The green child cooed from his spot, now sitting on your bedroll as he watched. After situating you back into the water, Din looked back to Grogu; he could tell he was getting hungry and tired.
"I need to go collect wood. Would you… just make sure he doesn't get into trouble?" The Mandalorian hesitated to ask you for anything, but he knew Grogu would just inhibit what could be a quick task. He watched your face as you glanced up at him from in the pool and behind him to the child.
"Yes," you said, almost so quietly that he strained to hear it.
"I won't be long," he told you as he stood and immediately walked over to the edge of the cliff to make his way back down toward the forested area.
Left alone with Grogu, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions. The Mandalorian had been harsh, distant, and mysterious, yet he had also shown moments of compassion and care. You watched the child as he cooed and played with his small, metal pendant, seemingly unfazed by the ordeal.
—
The thought of a fire excited you after three days of eating cold food and sleeping on the cold ground. Maybe if Noona was tired and not ready to come, you could actually enjoy your last night of sleep. Surely Noona would be here tomorrow?
"Rissi, Noona?" (Right, Noona?) You spoke to your oddly calm belly. You thought back... when had your last contraction been? After the Mandalorian had shown up, but that had now been almost two hours ago.
You felt unease rise up into your throat.
You only felt this afraid once during your pregnancy, and it was when you hadn't heard Noona's heartbeat at the small makeshift medical office in the fuel station. It wasn't until you and Don Mai had realized the medical droid's radar equipment had malfunctioned that you found peace.
But now you could feel the panic and no peace. A part of your mind was whispering that Noona was already gone. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes as you started moving frantically towards the shallow part of the pool. You rested your left hand on the soaked fabric of your dress as you clambered towards the edge of the pool.
"Pessi Noona... Pessi!" (Please baby, please.) you whispered frantically as you tried to feel anything. The rock floor of the pool felt harsh under your bare feet, and you slipped a little at one point, causing you to stumble.
From your right, you could hear the small green child make a grunting noise. Pushing yourself up in the water, you felt your breath quickening with panic as you moved out of the water. Tears were coming hard, and you couldn't stop the sobs that came from your mouth.
"Pessi a Noona! Pessi! Pessi!" You cried as you made it from the pool to the harsh gravel-covered surface of the rock surrounding the pool. Looking down at your belly, you pressed your hands rather harshly to feel. You could make out two lumps at the top, maybe knees? You couldn't be sure.
You felt a tugging on your dress, and as you tried to look down past your belly, you caught a glimpse of a green ear. The small green child tugged fervently on your dripping gown.
"Noona a nissa movissi" (baby is not moving), you tried to explain to the small green child who you could hardly see. You sobbed and tried to move toward the bedroll. Through your tears, you heard the small child behind you as his feet pattered softly on the rock behind you. You moved to sit on a rock nearby, lowering yourself to the ground, you planted your feet and caressed your belly.
"Pessi Noona, gividas sotissi" (Please baby give me something), you cried as you continued pressing frantically, trying to get Noona to move or kick, anything.
You felt the lightest touch on your arm as you sat and hyperventilated. Looking to the left, you saw the small green child look at you curiously. His large brown eyes were full of so much emotion, something you couldn't place. Before you could make another sound, you felt the edges of your vision begin to fade.
Maybe this was it... the last moment with you and Noona... would the Mandalorian come back and disturb you? You didn't want to leave the Mountain of Mothers, you wanted to die here with Noona, stay here with Noona, forever…
The last thoughts flashed in your mind before you felt yourself succumb.
"Rest," a small voice whispered through your mind.
#din djarin#din djarin x female reader#din djarin x pregnant reader#din djarin x reader#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#star wars the mandalorian#the mandalorian#star wars fanfiction#my gods are not kind to lonely mothers#MGANKTLM
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Andraste’s Grace and Embrium
(Read on AO3 here)
“When I die, I want you to prepare my body.”
His hand froze holding his pen. After a moment he tilted his head up. The sound of a hinge was almost audible.
“I’m sorry, my lady?” Emmrich asked.
Words: 786
Notes: Feodora is my elven Grey Warden warrior, so I love the idea that her own views of death might be challenged by Emmrich’s death-positive outlook.
For the last ten years, death had been on the horizon for Feodora. If the Hero of Fereldan failed, and the Calling maintained its hold on all Wardens, one day sooner or later (it is always sooner ) Feodora would hear the music and know it is her time. She’d dress for battle one last time and head off into the Deep Roads and use the little life she had left to kill darkspawn before her body joins the hundreds of bodies of the Grey Wardens that came before her.
For Emmrich, death was a curiosity. A fact of life for all the living. He studied death and researched rituals and ceremonies in different cultures, even used it to bring life in other ways. He never shied away from it or fought against it in the same ways so many with great power tried to. He…respected it, the way only a dedicated necromancer could.
Feodora suddenly had a vision of her own body laid out on his table, dead in full dented armor. Flowers in her hair, and a bouquet of Andraste’s Grace and embrium. She had every certainty he would prepare her body with the utmost care and decorum.
Something about it made her sad to remember her body would be lost in the Deep Roads instead.
Which was why one evening she approached Emmrich while he worked at his desk. She stood on the other side, finger tips resting on the edge of the wood, and stared down at him.
“When I die, I want you to prepare my body.”
His hand froze holding his pen. After a moment he tilted his head up. The sound of a hinge was almost audible.
“I’m sorry, my lady?” Emmrich asked. “Are you intending to go out and get yourself killed anytime soon?”
“Grey Wardens don’t live quite as long,” she replied.
They both stared at each other another moment before Emmrich set his pen down.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, “but I feel like I’m missing something. Did we have a previous conversation I’m forgetting?”
“No, no, I was just doing some thinking…” Feodora pursed her lips. “When a Grey Warden hears the song in their mind, the Calling, they prepare for battle and venture into the Deep Roads. They commit what little life the Calling grants them to killing as many darkspawn as they can before succumbing.”
Emmrich raised his eyebrows and gave a slight nod, so she continued.
“I…don’t think I want that.” Feodora looked down at her fingertips. “It won’t come for me for maybe twenty years, but I just got to thinking that maybe I want to be laid to rest after I die, instead of letting my body sort of waste away on top of other warden bodies.”
She let out a humorless laugh. “Hearing myself say it out loud, maybe I’ve just been thinking about it for too long. Letting my brain stew in something that won’t happen for a while.”
“But I can understand one making plans for their body after they die,” Emmrich replied. His gaze was soft—she immediately looked back down at her fingers on the desk. “I would be honored to be the one to lay your body to rest once you pass.”
He took one of her hands in his and kissed her fingertips. “Besides it would…trouble me, admittedly, were we to be buried apart. I’ve run into trouble with spirits for that very reason, and I’d very much like both of ours to go in peace.”
Feodora felt her face burn hot. “You…romantic,” she sighed. “I suppose at this rate, despite the age difference, we will die close to the same time.”
“Well, not that I’m looking forward to either of us perishing, but I do appreciate you coming to me with this. Had I approached you, I fear it would have come off much more…strange, were I the one to suggest this.”
“No stranger than anything else you’ve ever said to me,” she chuckled. Teasing, she added, “I just didn’t want be waiting around thinking ‘What’s a girl got to do to get a guy to suggest dual coffins around here? It’s like he doesn’t even want to be laid to rest beside me for all eternity!’”
Emmrich laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in prominent crows-feet. “I can promise you, nothing would make me happier than to be buried with you forever. And I promise I will do all I can to give your body the respect you deserve after death.”
“Then I suppose that’s that,” Feodora agreed. “Now, we should probably move on before Manfred hears and requests he be included in our dual coffin.”
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Murder Drones Headcanon: Alien Species
In my personal Murder Drones Headcanon, there are many species of sapient extraterrestrial beings who live on the planets that have been discovered by humans as they reached out into space. Every single one of them is extremely unique in their appearance and biology, having been evolutionarily shaped by the conditions of their respective homeworlds. There is also the Interstellar Commonwealth, an interplanetary government which was founded in 2546 to unite space-faring civilizations into the common goal of further exploration.
The Tragedy of Zyphoria-3 and the Consequences of Cultural Contamination
When the Interstellar Commonwealth was still very young, its explorers were more similar to missionaries, wanting to help less advanced civilizations. When they arrived at the third planet in the Zyphoria system in 2576, they found a world in the midst of an arms race (of biological weapons rather than nuclear ones), with continents cut up by national borders. So they landed and revealed themselves as well as their technology, as they thought it was the right thing to do. They simply wanted to help this world skip the cumbersome steps that others had to go through to achieve a sufficient level of advancement. However, they couldn’t control the spread. Wars broke out across the planet due to nations seeking to use the technology for personal gain and political dominance. By 2580, 16 billion Zyphorians had perished in the resulting global conflict. After that, new laws were passed, strictly prohibiting any interference of this manner, commonly referred to as ‘cultural contamination’, in the future.
And all those Commonwealth explorers tried to do was help.
Murder Drones Alien Species Design Contest
I would love to see a design for an alien species which is both fitting for the Murder Drones Universe and displays true originality, so I am holding a contest to see who can come up with the most creative design! Although humanoid designs are not prohibited, they are strongly discouraged. Entries will consist of artwork of the species and its home planet as well as an overview of their culture. (You can put two or more species on one planet if you’d like to!) You have until August 18th at 12:00 PM UTC to reblog this post and attach your entry!
@starryinkart, @electrozeistyking, @withered--s0uls, @yadchi-i-guess, @kkolg, @starlightohstar, @chaotically-coz, @megbanned, @jazzstarrlight, @roseofhybrids, and @thecosmiccrow, I’m at it again! Another opportunity to see everyone’s ideas!
I highly encourage you guys to take inspiration from the works of the wonderful Alex Ries (Creator of the birrin) as seen below for your designs while also staying true to the style of Liam Vickers!
Also, here’s a list of a few species from the show The Orville (which I’ve gotten into a bit recently) which you can also use as a basis for your alien species designs and cultures, but remember to give it the aesthetic of Alex Ries’ works and the style of Liam Vickers!
Moclans of the planet Moclus
Sarguns of the planet Sargus 4
Xelayans of the planet Xelaya
Regorians of the planet Regor 2
The Krill of the planet Krill
The Kaylon and their Builders from the planet Kaylon 1
Lastly, here are some designs by the wonderful Alex Ries! Good luck, and do your best, everyone! I would like to see at least one design for the Zyphorians too!
Edit (8/1/2024): This contest has not received as much attention as I hoped it would, so it must unfortunately come to an end.
#murder drones#murder drones headcanon#art contest#design contest#alien species#extraterrestial life#alien design#alien culture#the orville#the orville new horizons#murder drones uzi#uzi murder drones#uzi doorman#murder drones n#n murder drones#serial designation n#alex ries#speculative biology#murder drones v#v murder drones#murder drones oc#murder drones fanart#md fanart#md fandom#murder drones fandom#electrozeistyking#thecosmiccrow#md headcanons#hirotheinkling#murder drones absolute solver
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asking you about your fan obesk. tell me about your fan obesk
grins so wide
so, here are my kids! Zizakita Qou Kizan, Skolanevra Tir Senti, and Mivanscheki Vel Kortezut!
Ziza was a surface ("field") biologist on Obeski, largely focusing his studies on guktik due to having an immense fondness of and connection with them (in short- he's guktikhearted, he just doesn't have a word for it). [Recollection I wrote about that.] Despite being seen as kind of a weirdo, he was extroverted and enthusiastic, always looking for a chance to ramble about his work to anyone who would listen. He eventually went to Earth to study Earth fauna as part of the Communion division in the Embassy, which he was also very passionate about until he perished in the Collapse. (More details on that later ::::3c)
And as extroverts are prone to doing, he grabbed a couple of introverts and made them all the most important people in each other's lives(/deaths).
Skola was a gaurd who accompanied Ziza on the surface. She was the kind of bottled up and repressed where everything seems entirely normal and fine until one gaze, you realize she's never once said a single thing about herself. Ziza's brazen earnesty and openness were aspirational to her. She never quite got there, but she did open up little by little the longer she knew him. He was the first person outside her family she ever told of her identity as a "dragon" (inhereted context closest cultural equivalent etc. etc.) from Vaznian folklore. [Recollection I wrote about that.]
She followed him to Earth, though she was part of Exchange instead of Communion. Her focus was on stories- she shared fiction and folklore from Obeski with the cousins, and in turn she studied fiction and folklore from Earth. She died protecting Ziza in the Collapse, only for her husked corpse to later be the thing to do him in.
And finally, Ekiva's #1 most joyless vel. Accomplished parasitologist, highly respected name in their field, bearer of the naturalist's curse of knowledge, and the only one that's still on the stage because they didn't go to Earth- Mivanscheki. They've made more of a name for themself as a scientist than Ziza ever quite managed to, but their immense intellectual appreciation of the most reviled organisms on all of Obeski socially isolates them. At first, it was an isolation pushed upon them from the outside, but by the time Mivan became an adult, it was one intentionally sought. They are jaded, bitter, and see the general populace of Obeski as a bunch of irrational dumbasses (that they still ultimately want the best for, despite it all). They live in their lab and usually avoid talking to anyone outside their field if they can help it. Their respect is difficult to earn, but Ziza and Skola did indeed earn it. It was just a brief overlap in Ziza and Mivan's research that caused them to meet, but they ended up bonding over appreciating the creatures that no one else did.
Now Mivan is left to wish they had gone to Earth- not under any illusion that they could have stopped the tragedy, but just so they could have been there for Ziza and Skola during that nightmare.
Uhh wow that ended up really long lol anyway I hope you like them!!
#corru.observer#corru#fan obesk#OCs#pipi PC li toki#musi mi#ask#parasitism /#body horror /#blood /#scopo /#bug /#fire /
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My Best Ally | Aragorn x gn!reader
『••✎••』
↳ ❝ “You will never age for me, nor fade, nor die.”With Aragorn please ❞
: ̗̀➛ Aragorn has an alliance with the general of an army, although it isn't just politics
: ̗̀➛ blood, injury, war, violence
•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•
There was no surrender, and there was no way that withdrawal would work either; the flap of the coat of arms flew high above you, displaying a great red dragon with claws as big as mountains and teeth as harsh as sunlight. There was only one thing to do - drive them through the hills, and out of your lands.
Just as your ancestors had done for years, it was now down to you to follow in their footsteps; it was down to you to ensure that the white flag with a red cross never took over. You would die before seeing your countrymen perish to those dogs.
Drawing your sword, you turned to your men, and took a harsh breath.
"This is the killing field!" You bellowed. "This is where we show them no mercy! Ride with the wind!"
They cheered, although you clenched your jaw in a vain attempt to stop your heart from hammering in your chest; with an absent hand, you reached up and touched the small chunk of metal around your neck.
The small necklace that Aragorn had given you, inscribed with an old elven saying, was always around your neck when you went to battle.
The men fell into line in their respective battle positions; cavalry at the front, archers at the back. All wearing bright red armour made from dense dragon scales.
They were never fearful of what may come, knowing that if the battle was lost then those bearing the white and red flag would take over everything; they would flood villages and ban the language, outlaw and violently suppress the culture and traditions. They would not allow the land of the dragon to flourish and thrive.
Your men could not afford to be scared.
"Ride them down!" You called out, getting up on your horse with a huff. "Hunt them until the last man!"
It was true that your battle tactics were always less than merciful; you always left one man alive to go back and warn his countrymen, and he was always on the brink of death.
If he refused, his horse would be sent back, dragging his body as his shoulder blades were forcibly pushed up and out of his skin, and they would always find rats feasting inside his stomach.
You were very good at breaking the enemy's will.
You charged with the cavalry, herding the enemy lines into a small circle so that they were completely rounded up with no escape; you liked to watch them beg for their lives with fear in their eyes as they dropped to their knees.
As they surrendered, you gave the order, and they perished.
But while the rest of your men stood tall as they marched home, you did not; you gave word to your right-hand, telling him to look after the group, before heading towards the woods.
You left your horse at the edge, and felt relief wash over you the second you stepped onto the mossy ground.
"Aragorn!" You called as you wandered down to the little bridge, taking a seat and letting your legs dangle over the edge as you waited.
He was never very long, always running out of some of the bushes before smiling and letting out a quiet laugh. "You lived."
"As always," you nodded, waiting for him to sit down before you rested your head on his shoulder. "Good thing about dragonscale armour - you don't get killed."
Aragorn laughed softly, although his eyes soon caught the spatters on your armour. "Did you get hurt?"
"It isn't my blood," you whispered. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come to see you before-"
"It's alright," he murmured. "You seem tired."
"It seems the more they try to take our lands, the more tired I become," you started, "it's difficult, disgusting work... slaughtering them like cattle... but we are only trying to stop them from destroying our land."
"I know," Aragorn nodded slowly, letting his hand rest on your thigh as he cleared his throat. "One day, they will sings of you."
"I sure hope not," you laughed quietly. "I do not want to be remembered."
"You have no choice," he mused. "You will never age for me, nor fade, nor die. I will never let you be forgotten."
"Now you're just rubbing it in," you joked.
He gave your thigh a little shake as he hummed. "You know, the woods are whispering again."
"Really?" You asked. "What is it this time?"
"They say that there is a war coming," he explained, "and that your lands will have to unite with the rest of Men in order to save the world."
"I would do it on one condition," you admitted.
"Which is?"
"It would be under your banner," you told him plainly. "You have my alliance, Aragorn, just as you have my heart. If you want my men, you will have them - but only under your banner."
He nodded slowly. "I hope it does not come to it."
"As do I," you breathed out. "But you know as well as I do that the woods are not wrong. Can't you feel it? Something... brewing."
He nodded slowly, chewing at the inside of his lip. "I feel it. But where there is anxiety, there is hope."
You extended your hand to him. "If you shall ever need an ally, promise you will call upon me."
He held your hand tightly, kissing your knuckles. "Always. You are my ally in every way, General."
You nodded curtly, daring to smile at him. "And you are mine, Ranger."
He smiled back, licking his lips. "Shall we walk?"
Slowly, you stood up with him, and linked your arm with his. "I might be a little slow, today..."
"I'm aware," he whispered. "You are fresh from battle, I wouldn't expect differently."
"Thank you," you told him softly. "Really, Aragorn, thank you."
"Anything," Aragorn insisted. "Anything that I can do for you, I will, always. You are, after all, my best and favourite ally."
#mlem writes#aragorn x reader#aragorn x you#aragorn x y/n#aragorn imagine#aragorn fanfiction#aragorn one shot#lotr aragorn#aragorn lotr#aragorn#lotr x reader#lotr x you#lotr x y/n#lotr imagine#lotr fic#lotr fanfiction#lotr fanfic#lotr#lord of the rings x reader#lord of the rings x you#lord of the rings x y/n#lord of the rings imagine#lord of the rings fanfiction#lord of the rings fic#lord of the rings fanfic#lord of the rings
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I’ve been on a Greek mythology kick lately, so, as a lark, here’s a quick list of a few Star Wars characters and Greek characters I think they resemble:
Obi-Wan Kenobi: Oedipus. Both men are noble of character and have heroic intentions. They are devoted to their adopted families, remarkably competent in their jobs as generals and leaders, and they always try to do the right thing in any situation they encounter. But, both are doomed by the narrative to take part in the downfall of their families and cultures, and all of their heroic efforts come to naught. Both of them ultimately end up punishing themselves for circumstances beyond their control, and perishing in exile.
Anakin Skywalker: Heracles. The most physically powerful heroes of their respective mythos, they earn reputations of renown for their feats of strength and ingenuity. Both men fall under the influence of powerful beings who want to destroy their souls, and end up murdering their entire families in fits of madness. But, both men also eventually come to their senses, and though they can never erase the horrible things they’ve done, they devote the rest of their lives to attempt to make some recompense for their crimes, and ascend to godhood as a result.
Darth Maul: Sisyphus, natch. Local bastard keeps cheating death, and it’s really starting to piss death off. Sentenced to always be working towards a goal that can never be achieved.
Princess Leia: Antigone. Devoted daughter-figures to Obi-Wan Kenobi and Oedipus, respectively. Doomed to deal with the fallout of their predecessor’s choices, and not happy about it. Stubbornly do the right thing in defiance of the law, knowing full well that it will cost them their lives. Ultimately they die before they can see the benefit of their life’s work, but both go out like complete badasses, and their deaths cause chain reactions that eliminate the families of their enemies.
Luke Skywalker: Perseus. “I’m just the simple adopted son of a farmer/fisherman who wants to fight injustice. Oh, my family is now being harmed by that injustice? Game on, motherfucker, I’m gonna punch you out with the help of this cool new sword my mentor got for me. Oh, there’s a princess in danger of being consumed by a monster? Well of COURSE I have to rescue her! And…wait, what the fuck do you mean, my bio dad’s an asshole god?”
Rey: Psyche. Both abandoned by their families because of a curse, both get sucked into a never-ending cosmic family drama that has caused yet another war. Their character arc involves winning over many of the other players in this family drama to try and reconcile them with each other, to mixed effects. Both are brought back from the dead by their love interests, and go on to rebuild their lives after the war’s end.
#personal headcanons#greek mythology#star wars#obi-wan kenobi#oedipus#anakin skywalker#heracles#darth maul#sisyphus#leia organa#antigone#luke skywalker#perseus#rey skywalker#psyche
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In reference to that confederate flag post, I’m honestly curious why one would have pride in that flag. I grew up in the north and was taught that that flag symbolized bad things. I know not every southerner was pro-slavery and I don’t think the history and culture of the south should be erased or demonized, but I find it hard to shake the bias. If that flag doesn’t mean pro-slavery, what does it mean for you? I hope this doesn’t sound accusing, I legitimately honestly don’t understand and would love an answer 💕
I appreciate your respect in this matter, I read the same history books you did and I know well what the commonly taught thing is.
I could wax long about the various disputed reasons for the War. I will not, on this post; many better researchers than I have already done so. I do not condone slavery, of course; I would hope nobody would. But that is also not, not really, the subject under discussion.
Of the Confederate States of America, it was a very small percentage of the population who owned slaves - something like 3-5%, if I remember correctly. The vast majority of the people were not plantation owners, but small individual farmers and tradesmen and families.
And then the war started and it didn't matter, anymore, whether they owned slaves or not; all of the South was under attack. Whether one owned slaves or not, it was one's home and wife and children and fields and livelihood being razed and left dead. It was take up arms, or perish.
Condemning all of the South and all the Confederate soldiers for slavery would be the same as condemning every American citizen for Bush's Iraq War or Obama's Syrian bombings.
That flag is the flag of my people who did not deserve to die for the sins of the elites of their day.
That flag is still to be found in the homes and on the trucks and on the tackleboxes and inked into the skin of today's Southerners. Because it's our flag, and it means the rednecks, the jacked up pickups, the crazy stunts, the jacked up trucks who drove into Houston floodwaters when the Army trucks stalled out. It's the gentlemen who will stop to help you with a flat tire and the ladies who will bring over a casserole and it doesn't matter what color your skin is if you're polite and courteous because people are people.
That flag is an emblem of Southern culture.
My home and my people are not without our faults, but the prevalent narrative of our flag meaning slavery is just a smear campaign - and an unfortunately very successful one.
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I have never heard of the Dark Crystal until I saw your posts. What is it about, and what do you like about it?
Oh ho?
Sit down, anon, and let me tell you the tale of... The Dark Crystal.
*theme music plays*
In a world called Thra, there exists a powerful gem called the Crystal of Truth. It is in tune to all of Thra, including the planet's most civilized race, the Gelfling.
A thousand years ago, new beings came to Thra: the Skeksis. The Skeksis, wise, hedonistic and benevolent, were tasked with protecting the Crystal of Truth by Thra's avatar/mother-nature of sorts, Mother Aughra. Because of their wisdom the Skeksis also ruled over the Gelfling and their seven Clans, while Aughra journeyed the stars and space.
But one day, the Crystal cracked, causing the Crystal to become corrupted, and a miasma, the Darkening, to spread throughout Thra. In an attempt to fix the Crystal, the Skeksis discovered Essence - the soul or life-force of every creature on Thra. Instead of taking life from the Crystal, they decided to take life from something else - the Gelfling. Because the Gelfling are the closest creatures to Thra, their Essence is pure, more potent.
The Skeksis became obsessed with Essence, and obsessed with draining Gelfling, killing them and drinking their Essence to obtain eternal life and youthfulness. All Skeksis, but the Emperor especially, were terrified of death. For when Skeksis die they do not return to Thra.
And so, a genocide occurred, and all Gelfling perished.
All but one. For there was a prophecy, told of a young Gelfling named Jen, who is destined to heal the Crystal and bring the Skeksis reign to an end!
What I love about The Dark Crystal is its world-building and characters. Its cast isn't just black and white in morality, it's more than that. The protagonists can make mistakes, and so can the antagonists. The Skeksis were good once upon a time, they once cared about the Gelfling, but their greed and fear of death overtook them. Thra is beautiful with many different settings and wildlife, even the Castle of the Crystal is gorgeous with it's fantastical and alien gothic architecture.
I'm mainly talking about the prequel series, Age of Resistance, here. It was made almost 40 years after the original 1982 film, but unlike many modern sequels and prequels it's not a cash grab at all; it was made with love and respect to the original, expanding on the world of Thra. Not saying the original film was bad, it's a wonderful piece of media! I just think it's lacking a bit in world-building and context, and Age of Resistance helps immensely.
As for characters, I'll be talking about the Skeksis, Gelfling, and Mother Aughra. There are other characters and creatures too, but I don't want to venture into spoiler territory!
The Skeksis
As I said above, the Skeksis are not from Thra. They are reptile-like alien vultures with a very hedonistic lifestyle. They adore food, various forms of entertainment, the most lavish of robes, and being praised for their wisdom and status as Lords of the Crystal.
Each Skeksis has a title and role they must uphold. For example, the Ornamentalist makes his fellow Lords' robes and decor for the Castle, while the Scroll-Keeper is in charge of the Castle library and keeps records of tomes and scrolls going back a thousand years of Skeksis rule.
All the Skeksis are important and unique, but the most popular and well-known by far is the Chamberlain. He has a "whimper" as a tic and speaks in slight broken English, yet is the craftiest, manipulative, and cunning of the Skeksis. A very Starscream/Littlefinger-type character, he's fantastic to watch. (He's one of my favourite characters, but not my top favourite, that honour goes to the Scroll-Keeper.)
The Gelfling
The Gelfling are small, elf-like humanoids that vary in looks, culture and skill between their seven different species/Clans. There is the Stonewood, Vapran, Drenchen, Spriton, Dousan, Sifan, and Grottan. Unfortunately, many Gelfling tend to be xenophobic and untrustworthy towards other Clans, though some do manage to become friends despite their differences. Most Gelfling are also illiterate, but there are a very small few that can read and write.
Gelfling are the closest beings to Thra, and have the special ability to Dreamfast with one another - a rather intimate gesture that allows them to share their memories and thoughts by touching hands.
They also differ between genders; female Gelfling have wings, while male Gelfling do not.
Because of their small noses and large eyes and ears, some of the fandom tend to call Gelfling "fairy mice", even giving them whiskers and tails!
Mother Aughra
Mother Aughra is Thra, and Thra is Mother Aughra. She is as old as the planet itself, and perhaps as old as the Crystal of Truth, too. She is connected to the Crystal, able to tell when it is healthy and when it is not.
She and the Skeksis used to be friends, admiring their wisdom and beauty, yet that all ended when she discovered what they had done to the Crystal of Truth.
Aughra is sassy and somewhat grumpy, yet she loves and cares for all the creatures of Thra, especially the Gelfling, who see her as a mother-figure. She has the ability to remove her one eye and use it to spy on others or to see things up close, even from far away.
If you enjoy the fantasy genre, puppets, practical effects, and alien worlds, I highly, highly recommend The Dark Crystal and The Dark Crystal Age of Resistance! There are also graphic novels, and YA novels by J.M Lee.
The world of Thra must never die!
#the dark crystal#the dark crystal age of resistance#age of resistance#the dark crystal aor#skeksis#gelfling#mother aughra#jim henson#genocide mention
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I have some questions abt hellenic polytheism and how its practiced. I myself have been practicing it for a while, but something I noticed while researching about it is a distinct lack of actual greek people in online social media spaces. It was first brought to my attention after seeing a reddit post and youtube video explaining how using “hellenismos” is considered cultural appropriation. After that, Ive noticed how the main sources Ive used about hellenic polytheism isnt really from the people whos culture were trying to practice. AKA non greeks.
I would like to know your explanations on the basics of hellenic polytheism like altars/shrines, khernips, prayers, devotees, tarot/oracle cards, pendulums, kharis, and offerings. There might be some knowledge that I got wrong and need to change, like maybe the way I give offerings needs fixing and I need to give more perishable offerings like food than handmade crafts like art for apollo. And maybe theres a spicic way to do it and not just place it on the altar. Other than websites like hellenicfaith.com, r/hellenism is usually my main source with a grain of salt because of the strange lack of greeks in discussions, and although my friend who is also practicing hellenic polytheism gives me a lot of advice, their main sources are tiktok and. Well, I dont think I need to explain why thats a bad source. (Their main justification is “of course tiktok isnt that serious” and “it comes from the pagans themselves”)
Also, Im also curious on your thoughts about people who practice in secret.
I hope this isnt too long, I just wanna make sure Im using a better source than reddit because, well, its reddit. Not the most reliable source.
Hello! If you don't mind I will also address two more questions I got on the matter, since I feel they are related to yours. They are the following:
Hello all! You did very well to seek Greek sources because you are essentially dealing with a foreign culture and it's not right to assume it looks just like your local one. I will guide you as much as I can but I am very open to being corrected by knowledgeable Greeks and xenoi alike because I am not an infallible scholar. As always, my posts are open to additions in case I missed something.
Let me start by saying I believe it's important to focus on the living Greeks as well, in parallel to your studies of ancient religious texts. Not only were our ancient people diverse with various opinions but... they are also dead and cannot speak anymore. So, it's the alive Greeks who now handle and pass down the culture. If something gives the ick to modern Greeks, it probably goes against what the culture considers appropriate or strange.
Greeks will get "the ick" even if they are not well-read on ancient Greek customs, because the Greek culture largely holds its philosophy when it comes to worship. Disclaimer: This is not an unbroken rule, as some of our cultural elements have shifted or changed, as it happens to all cultures around the globe, and also because a Greek does not know everything. But it's good to keep that general statement in mind.
An example of a practice not seen favorably by Greeks nowadays is some Western women practitioners covering their heads because of Hellenic Polytheism. The ancient faith may demand it but the veil was forced a lot on Greek women and collectively we believe it doesn't make any sense to wear it, even in scenarios of faith tied to our culture. Now, that doesn't mean that it's any of our business if a Hellenic Polytheist wants to veil but it'd be good for this person to have knowledge of the history and rights of Greek women, and really evaluate why they want to veil beyond "the ancients did it", since Greek culture is largely disagreeable to that practice now. Find a larger discussion on veiling here.
Also please capitalize the first letter of Apollo's name because this shows proper respect ;)
Let's dive into specifics a little bit. Our culture was and is practical and anthropocentric. It takes into account reality and environment, as well as human nature.
For the anthropocentric aspect: Yes, there are general guidelines because we are talking about a tradition here but no one will take your head if you do it a bit differently. As for the practical aspect: if you give non-perishable items to the gods by putting them on their altar, in 10 years you won't have a space in your house to stand. If they are non-perishable you have no reason to remove them. Because if you remove them is like taking back offerings that were meant for the deity.
The offerings of Greeks in Polytheism and Christianity included perishable items such as food, candles/oil lamps, flowers, incense, libations, etc. And since they go bad you have a reason to remove them. But you also don't want any waste on the streets or in your house. Even the sacrificed animals were meant to be eaten, and the Greek communities believed that the smell of roasted meat made the gods rejoice. In some cases, offerings that were left outside were meant to be consumed by the homeless and travelers. Everything has a purpose and a reason within that specific community. (Flowers not so much, they are just ornamental)
It's not that you cannot or should not offer non-perishable items to the gods. I'm sure a few don't hurt anyone. Just keep in mind that if the offering is a non-perishable item it is/was usually offered to the temple, so the priests can sustain themselves and continue doing their religious service on behalf of the community. We are talking about coins, clothing, jugs, animals, or whatever else.
Continuing on the matter of offerings. A small rant on how clueless some people seem to be about offerings. It would be weird to knit a winter scarf for a god and then wear it yourself because that's not how dedication/devotion works in the Greek context. Also, leaving that winter scarf on the altar doesn't make sense either because it's just… impractical in the Greek sense. You are wasting a scarf, to put it plainly. But if you make something for one deity then give it to the deity, don't wear it yourself.
I'll tackle a few more specifics now. I think you already know what they mean so I will give my opinion on them rather than explaining them. I think my opinion is shared by many Greeks.
hellenismos -> I am not sure if it's appropriation but it's surely inaccurate. Here is why, for those who wonder, with some suggestions on how to call yourself. (hint: Hellenic Polytheist is fine)
on how to be respectful and accurate: I always recommend reading as many ancient Greek texts as possible the view of the gods directly from the ancient worshipers themselves. You can read whatever texts interest you, including plays. Plays are my favourite source, to be honest. Understand on your own what the text says. The Hymn to Demeter is focused on the pain of a mother, which is pretty obvious, you are under no obligation to hear Kate the TikToker who insists on something different. You don't have to hear YouTubers who tell you Zeus is an asshole when ancient texts show us the opposite, and give a good context on why he does what he does.
altars/shrines -> The altars I've seen are usually fine, so I think western polytheists have this down. The ancient ones would be more homogenous but in our era the religion is unorganized so it's up to the individual to create an altar. Greeks still have altars in their homes as a continuation of our polytheist practices and they also have some variation. Generally, all good here.
khernips -> χέρνιψ literally translates to "washer of hands". It's a Greek practice to have clean hands before touching any sacred objects, either in Dodekatheism or in Christianity. We do not always follow it but it's important. Our old custom is also to wash hands, face, and feet before entering our Christian temples (that's why there are κρήνες outside many of them) but that's not practiced anymore because our hygiene is overall better and we already visit the temple while clean.
The cleansing part will feel natural for most Greeks and not unfit for the whole procedure. You can also cleanse items with water if the purification ritual says so. Don't lose sleep over it. Remember practicality. Khernips is just water with which you wash your hands and you can do it before a meal, like we do today. It is meant to keep you clean but doesn't bear any spiritual force - it's not like the holy water of Christians which is imbued with divine power. It's just water included in a practice that helps the religious person get ready for spiritual time.
Also! Khernips doesn't mean that you wash the whole body! It's second part, νήβω / nivo = rub is connected to cleaning body parts. For the cleanliness of the whole body we used/use "λούω / λούζω". Fun fact, on of the greatest christian temples Hagia Sofia, had a reminder outside the gate with the same verb, and it was an anagram. "ΝΙΨΟΝ ΑΝΟΜΗΜΑΤΑ ΜΗ ΜΟΝΑΝ ΟΨΙΝ", meaning "wash your sins, too, not just your face". This anagram is found in other Christian sites, as well.
prayers -> Any prayer is good. There are only a few ways a prayer can go "wrong", since there's not a subscription for that. For example a prayer has to usually praise the magnanimity of the deity, even if you are just doing it to ask something, but words from the heart are also fine. Zeus won't smite you if you include him in a phrase without praising him first.
devotees -> Afaik this was a rare phenomenon in antiquity and it's only nowadays that Westerners decided that everyone is a devotee, which looks weird to Greeks because being a devotee doesn't work exactly like Westerners do it. You don't get to pick one god, talk 99% of the time about that god, or worship just them and not recognize the whole pantheon, or just give little attention to them.
Ancient Greek towns and people had gods they were closer to, for sure, but from what I know they didn't have the same concept as modern foreign worshipers today. They were not "αφιερωμένοι"/devoted, unless they devoted their life to a deity by serving in their temple. The devoted/devotees were not everyday people.
The everyday people felt closer to some gods in the way someone can have a saint or a prophet that they align themselves with, that they feel like they can see themselves on them, or that these gods see them, or that they are related to their struggles, or have given them some sort of protection. A cultivator of vineyards will probably feel closer to Dionysus, while a fisherman to Poseidon, and a warrior to Ares. It's the same for Christian Greeks, since each of the saints has one domain and we call on them depending on our needs.
I mean, it's okay if modern people want to make new things, but we should also be clear on the nature of the ancient practice.
tarot/oracle cards, pendulums -> They are unrelated to the practice. They are just recent elements of western spiritual fascination, and the ancient Greek religion is already complete without them. If Apollo chooses to reveal himself through tarot he may as well reveal himself on a toaster xD A toaster is as related to the ancient Greek religion as much as tarot cards.
kharis -> Some Westerners overhype foreign words that are, in reality, very simple terms. Kharis is just "the grace of god" and the concept is similar to the grace spoken in Christianity, Islam and Hinduism. Kharis is not lost if you forget to wash your hands once, or if you are afraid that the item you placed on the altar is not good enough. You don't have to tiptoe around it, it's not something incomprehensible and mystical.
miasma -> Nobody asked for it but I am delivering it anyways because I see many new people to the religion treat miasma like they are 5th-century Greeks who will be punished by the plague if they menstruate too close to the altar. I've seen endless discussions online about what miasma is and all the detailed ways that you can avoid it, and how to cleanse everything and... as a 21st-century practitioner you are not supposed to be that fearful. In the Πλυντήρια festival, the statue of Athena goddess was washed clean but also cleansed metaphorically by people's sins. And you can cleanse your statues as well of course but not with the mindset of considering yourself unclean. Do not follow every advice from ancient people who thought women unclean when menstruating. Ironically, this post and this post from r/hellenism have a good approach to this. As one user says:
people who practice in secret -> I don't have particular thoughts for them. If they must hide their spirituality for reasons beyond their control, it's natural for them to do so. I wish them the best in their spiritual journey.
Take a look at my F.A.Q. page, and more specifically on these questions:
Can I worship the Greek gods as a xenos (non-Greek)?
What do Greeks think of people outside of Greece worshiping the Greek gods?
Reading List / Book recommendations on Greek Mythology
Are the Greek gods assholes? // What’s up with gods coupling with mortal women?
Also, when it comes to the practices of the ancient Greek religion, Google Scholar is your friend. Read a variety of scholars and please include Greek ones on your reading list. Western academia focuses a lot on what the myth means to The West today, while Greek academia focuses on what the myths meant in their time. Some classical students report that studying classics in Greece VS in the US can be night and day, and they got a more authentic feeling from the knowledge they gained from the Greek classes.
For gods, festivals, and rituals in Greece, I have some recommendations below, if you’d like to take a look! (The links open directly to them so you can read them for free)
Let it rain’, or ‘rain, conceive’: Rituals of magical rain-making in Ancient Greece, a comparative approach. In Roca, Z. et al. (eds.): European Landscapes and Lifestyles: The Mediterranean and Beyond. Lisboa: Edições Universitárias Lusófonas 2007: 285-304.
Cosmos 17 (2001), 197-251 Rituals of Magical Rain-Making in Modern and Ancient Greece: A Comparative Approach by Evy Johanne Håland
http://en.arch.uoa.gr/fileadmin/arch.uoa.gr/uploads/images/evy_johanne_haland/cosmos_17-2_haland.pdf
p.s., I call Christian temples "temples" because that's how we call them. We use ναός very frequently for our religious buildings.
I hope I covered your questions so far 💙😊 See you around, and have a great day!
✨🌺✨🌺✨🌺✨🌺✨🌺✨🌺✨🌺✨🌺✨🌺✨🌺✨🌺
If my posts have helped you in any way, consider buying me a coffee or giving a Paypal donation. I spend many hours per day on questions and posts, so that would support me a little.
#answered#greek mythology#ancient greek religion#helpol#hellenic polytheism#hellenismos#greek gods#deity worship
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Lore: Dwarven Culture
Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]
Overview | Culture | Specific Cultures | Magic | Religion | History -- WIP
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I found this in my drafts, and apparently I forgot to post this ages back. So here's a compilation of the dwarf Realmslore I can get my hands on.
Touchstones of dwarven culture, like: language, the Clan, marriage, etc...
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The dwarven name for their own people is Ahrraem. A dwarf is an arl, and the plural is ahra. They also refer to themselves as "the Folk" in Common.
Language: The dwarven language is called Arltah. Much like gnomes, with whom they seem to have linguistic overlap, the dwarven accent is described as a brogue, with flat pronunciation that emphasises the stressed syllables. It is, however, louder and clearer than the humming tones of the gnomish accent. The written form uses an angular, runic script called Dethek. It's written in a similar pattern to draconic - The sentence begins with a rune representing the dwarf who authored the writing (or a banner), and then the rest will spiral outwards in a tight circular pattern wrapping around that name.
The central symbol may also portray something else. Grave markers feature the face/s of the grave's occupant/s. Stories and histories will often portray a scene from the tale being told. Sometimes the image is just decoration.
Dwarves prefer not to write on perishable surfaces, and most carve into flat stones intended for this purpose, called runestones (in Common). A runestone is an inch-thick and circular or diamond in shape. Metal may also be used, but when it is the metal must be pure (gold, silver, etc) and perfectly manufactured.
A term of respect amongst dwarves is "longbeard," implying that they are an experienced and wise elder one can depend upon. Its opposite, insulting term, is "no-beard" or "shorthair."
While the taller races seem to think the shorter statures of dwarves (and gnomes and hin) is a reason to look down on them or treat them differently, dwarves themselves place no value on an individuals height whatsoever. Nevertheless, calling a dwarf "little" will be recognised for the slight it is. Calling them small and human in the same breath - "little man" - is an even greater insult.
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Dwarves are subterranean by nature, and instinctually uncomfortable in the open above-ground, and if they can't live underground they'll create above-ground structures with interiors that mimic the conditions of being underground (the effect can be observed amongst dwarven diaspora in human cities).
They also have an aversion to the ocean, which can be strong enough to manifest as hatred and fear that's outright superstitious. Dwarves will wholeheartedly insist that the ocean is evil and it is out to get you. ...But in fairness, as Umberlee is the ocean deity they're... not wrong.
Dwarves are infamous for being prickly, stubborn, distrustful and greedy. The last trait is confused by humans and halflings to be the same as their own desire to amass personal wealth - and they're wrong. It isn't about the monetary value or the luxury and comfort it purchases, dwarves are instinctually drawn to the skill that went into a piece.
Dwarven philosophy has been built around this, and holds that everything can be better than it is: there is not a thing in the world that cannot be improved upon (and helping things improve is a wonderful thing). Elven philosophies of leaving things - especially nature - as untouched as possible are alien in the eyes of the Ahrraem, who are left to assume it's because the elves can't be bothered to put in the effort of improving things (especially because the dwarves know that elves can produce works of expert craftsmanship when they chose to).
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Dwarves have some... interesting stereotypes about other races:
All halflings are liars by inherent nature (as are orcs and giants) -
A human will sleep with anything, given the excuse. Humans will also tarnish metals by touching them, so keep them away from your crafts. -
Elves clearly have the same love of fine crafts that the Ahrraem do, but as they're too lazy to make it themselves, they put on a front of indifference to get others to let down their guard. Then they steal the hard work of others. Don't let them touch enchanted objects - they fickle fey bastards will suck the magic out.
On the other hand, dwarves hold a great deal of respect for gnomes, who have a similar love of craftsmanship, and the two have always gotten along throughout history.
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Entertainment:
Dancing is a major part of dwarven culture - their traditional music is rhythmic, heavy with drumbeats and metallic percussion instruments, while being devoid of soft sounds and wind instruments. While their dances are private affairs kept out of view of non-dwarves, dwarves also enjoy watching public dance performances put on by other races.
Instruments that feature strings are not usually plucked by hand. They resemble pianos, with the strings tied to keys which are struck with implements akin to drumsticks (in the form of small hammers). If the settlement has access to volcanic vents - or similar structures that pressurised gases can be filtered through - dwarves may construct large pipe organs. Many, smaller, versions of these instruments look something like accordions with metal strings.
Vocal accompaniment takes the form of drones and plainsong chants.
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Dwarves have their own adventuring bands known as "brotherhoods" - the name started because groups of young dwarven men would get together and go out questing and seeking danger and riches to impress their prospective brides. Dwarven women totally ignored that part, decided it looked like fun and formed their own brotherhoods. Many tales about dwarven adventurers involve a young dwarven woman heading out to rescue her SO from a dragon, or whatever nonsense he's gotten himself into. Brotherhoods may be single gender or mixed gender teams, but they are referred to as such regardless. Some of them have included non-dwarves.
Brotherhoods are treated a lot like sports teams, with their own supporters and rival brotherhoods. Individual members, and possibly the whole team, may achieve celebrity status.
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Society:
Dwarven culture values loyalty to clan and blood ties over all other bonds (although these things are certainly valuable), although in practice individuals don't follow that pattern reliably.
The Clan: Historically, the clan was the centre which all dwarven life revolved around. Over time - especially in Shield dwarven culture - this has loosened. For many dwarves, their clan is more of a social club one is born into, and you get together for family gatherings and share a drink and maybe play cards or something. In the furthest North, some shield dwarves have abandoned the concept altogether.
The generic term for the head of a clan is the chief, although there are variant terms in the Northern and Southern hemisphere.
Clans have appointed champions, "the fists of the clan" elite dwarven warriors who have proved themselves in tests of combat to earn the position. They maintain the clan's police forces
Clans are overseen by the elders - those who wield influence due to some combination of personal accomplishment, wealth and/or age. This council votes on clan policy - traditionally a marriage must be approved by the elders to be legitimised in dwarven society, and they have the right to exile those they don't approve of (which may happen if a dwarf ignores them and goes ahead with marrying a match they don't approve of.) However, prior to the Thunder Blessing, when dwarven fertility dropped so low that the Folk almost went extinct, the elders lost a significant amount of influence in this manner. No clan could afford to exile their members lightly, and any and every marriage that could possibly provide children was desperately needed.
A dwarven "house" refers to either the ruling family within a clan, or the ruling clan of a dwarven settlement that contains multiple clans. In such cases the current ruler will not be referred to as "king/queen" but with a lesser noble title such as "duke/duchess." Most royal lines have been long since lost, and the vast majority of dwarven rulers are elected. Even those who have inherited based on their bloodline won't be able to hold their throne if the populace doesn't want them there.
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Traditionally children are raised communally in tight family units, with clan elders overseeing their upbringing and education and planning their future. Education usually involves literacy and training in a trade, or multiple and the age of majority is 40. Each adult is expected to be capable of doing their part to support themselves, their family, and their clan.
Courtship and Marriage: Dwarves, like elves, refer to their spouses as their "mates," or as "wives/husbands/spouses."
The traditional dwarven wedding is a very family-heavy affair. Anybody who can't be there on account of being dead will be represented by their weapons, sitting in the audience. The ceremony includes a blessing chant; the recitation of both dwarves' entire family line from the most famous known ancestor down to the dwarf getting marries, to remind them of the proud line that they are continuing, and that they have a duty to.
Courtship begins with sending gifts of poems, battle spoils and/or jewellery crafted by the dwarf's own hand, in the hope of impressing the target of affection with one's skill. Hopefully this becomes mutual, and this gift exchange will continue for years. If they're still interested, the dwarves will begin living and working together (be that adventuring or in a more mundane work situation). This is a trial period, so that the dwarves can learn each other's personalities in-depth and get a feel for how well they live together. If this trial period is successful then marriage follows.
Marriage is the province of the goddess Berronar Truesilver, and generally the marriage is sealed with the exchange of two silver rings (her holy symbol). If either (or both) of the dwarves involved are entering this marriage with less than honest intentions the deity will cause the ring/s to tarnish and crumble before all present.
An alternate form of marriage available to dwarves is blood-betrothal, which is less official and more popular with those who are less keen on ceremony and clan duty. The betrothal must be witnessed by at least one dwarf and officiated and sanctioned by a noble (who can be of any race - they don't need to be dwarven). The spouses-to-be mingle their blood and exchange a kiss, before whispering their names to one another. They turn to the witnesses and declare themselves, with their full names, as each other's mates. Thus the marriage is official.
Married dwarves are not expected to live together, and many may live and work separately, making time for each other now and then.
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Historically, dwarves have also bolstered their dwindling birth rates by taking non-dwarves as spouses (humans, elves, halflings and gnomes). Prior to the Year of Thunder, non-dwarves who married into a clan and provided children and helped preserve the dwarven way of life were viewed with high levels of honour and respect.
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In the grim dark archives what would happen if the kids died? Whether it was by the autobots or some outside threat. I vaguely remember you posting something a little more in depth regarding the kids but heaven forbid I can ever find anything with Tumblr’s horrible searching system. So correct me if I’m wrong
But I remember you said Optimus specifically needed Raf for something. So if he dies we might have an issue
But Jack and Miko are solely there to keep their respective bots occupied. So if those two died would they just replace them with kids who looked similar enough and prayed the bots didnt notice?
The Grim Dark Archives: Transcript #003 Hypothetical
[Transcript taken [Redacted: Sensitive data] from [REDACTED] after concerns regarding the children were raised by personnel and the higher ups. I decided to ask [REDACTED] a few questions about a hypothetical where the children perished.
It was mostly for my own sake, so I decided to keep it all as a transcript. The higher ups don't read transcripts as often since they technically aren't official.
Transcript begins.]
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Agent Witwicky: The children... what would happen if they died? [REDACTED]: Rafael won't die. Prime won't allow it. He's going to join the Archive soon enough. The Archive protects its own. Agent Witwicky: Then the other two. What about them? [REDACTED]: Let's not get it twisted. Miko will die. She's with Bulkhead. He will kill her eventually, probably in a fit of boredom. Jack will likely expire at some point too. Arcee doesn't know how to care for squishies like you lot. Agent Witwicky: Answer the question. [REDACTED]: Dang, harsh crowd here tonight. [REDACTED]: Miko will get replaced. Simple as that. It isn't hard to find a rambunctious kid on this planet of yours, especially since your culture is swimming in media that paints alien lifeforms in a positive happy go lucky light. Agent Witwicky: So Bulkhead doesn't care about her? [REDACTED]: I wouldn't say that. To him, I can only assume he views her like how you humans may see a pet goldfish. He will take care of her, but when she expires, he will get rid of her and move on quickly. Agent Witwicky: How long do you think she has until she... expires? [REDACTED]: Hard to tell. Wreckers take pets a lot. Some care for them properly, others don't. I didn't exactly take the time to get to know the Wrecker units since I valued life. Agent Witwicky: Right... and Jack? [REDACTED]: If he dies and Arcee fails to bond to another human, Arcee will likely be executed shortly after the boy's death. Prime keeps Arcee around simply because she's vicious and because it invokes fear in the enemy. Agent Witwicky: He isn't concerned about eliminating a threat then. [REDACTED]: Exactly. I think there is a core element most miss when it comes to Prime. Everything he does is two sided. Agent Witwicky: That's not surprising. [REDACTED]: No its not. But what I mean by that is, well, he's not the mech I knew. When he joined the Archive, he was still a mech that I could recognize. Now though? It's like someone else is walking in his frame, and that person thinks this whole war is FUN. Agent Witwicky: Can you confirm that? [REDACTED]: No. I have my theories, but they aren't relevant right now. For the time being, just know that when those two kids expire, Prime will find replacements for them or for Arcee.
══════════════════
[Transcript ends.
The more I hear about the Autobots, the more my childhood dream of being friends with aliens dies. Prime is terrifying and I haven't even met him in person before. I don't think I want to. If he is as [REDACTED] says, then we are better off hoping that this Megatron character kills him soon.
Agent Witwicky signing off.
Recording end.]
#transformers#maccadam#transformers prime#optimus prime#arcee#bulkhead#miko nakadai#rafael esquivel#jack darby#[redacted]#agent witwicky#transcript#alternate universe#the grim dark archives au
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Yearning For Spring | Ch. 6 | Tamlin x Oc
◇— Chapter 6 - A Glimpse of Living
A/n: Very very long chappy.. I enjoyed writing Autumn and Summer, favourite courts right next to Spring 😔🫶
✧ masterlist
<<Ch.1 <<Ch.5 ||◇|| Ch.7>>
— —
I often feed a suggestion to the King, to send me back to Prythian to see to Amarantha's reign. And when he'd ask me why I'm so insistent on going I'd answer with; “I rather like tormenting her~” Which is no lie and definitely no secret. The entirety of the Father's court knows well mine and Amarantha's animosity towards each other. And it isn't just me. I cannot think of a single person in court who likes her. She is feared by many and loved by none save for the creatures that manage to find it in themselves to find her appealing.
Four decades have passed since the dawn of her reign and when I thought all hope was lost, Father called me into the throne room and suddenly approved of my next visit to Prythian. The Suriel fettered beneath the palace was yet again the source of his ire, but it seems to have provided some sort of answer to which my father was being deliberately vague when giving his commands. He needs me to seek out the missing pieces of the Cauldron after I see Amarantha. And I couldn't have been more excited when he gave me the task. In secret, of course. I did not get to see past Under the Mountain last time.. I'm hoping this time will be different.
Besides that visit, I haven't left Hybern since that time in Spring. More often than not, these golden cuffs around my wrists constantly itched, tempting me to scratch the skin raw.. I cannot even touch the beach waters without the cuffs tugging me back. It is a cage, this homeland of mine. And while I want to visit Prythian because I want to berate Amarantha and know about how Tamlin is doing I just want to see the sky and breathe the fresh air.
“May I come with?” Velaria asks as she follows me through the halls of the Lighthouse.
“The ring only allows leave for one body. I'm afraid I cannot take you with me.. Father will know if those bound to him leave and enter without the gem.”
Velaria frowns and before she speaks, some of the children playing caught sight of me and rushed towards my direction. “Mother!” They all called out as they came to me. Recent children who quickly became infected with calling me their mother. Not that I mind.
They told me of their day and wished for me to play with them. But I had places to be so I promised to spend time with them when I returned. I went to a drawing room where children, mostly the children I've rescued from Prythian, were huddled in one place. Each child hails from a different Court, with Marilla and Celyn originating from Winter, and Aurelia, Clem, and Rory from Autumn. Soleil and Tesni are from Summer, while Ahaan and Kiran belongs to the Dawn Court. And then there's the only child from Day, the youngest of Prythian children, Uri.
Save for Uri, they all still call me Niamh or Miss Niamh. Understandable as they are not my children like Hybernian children were. They have their own mothers and fathers waiting for them most likely.
The Lighthouse has come to life since I brought the Prythian children here. Each room within the building has been adorned with their vibrant gifts and decorations, inspired by the diverse cultures and customs of their respective Courts.
Because of them, our home now hosts various joyful celebrations like Summer and Winter Solstice where we decorate the house, dance and exchange gifts. Those are my personal favorites.. But we also celebrate All Souls Day, a custom from Autumn where people make offerings to shrines of the deceased in the forest. But we do not have a forest of shrines so we just.. create our own and set them out at the courtyard, in remembrance of loved ones who perished during Amarantha's rule. Because the majority, if not all the children, have endured losses during her reign.
We also have Fete in the Clouds, a cheerful celebration from the Dawn Court where peregryns, hold festivities high in the air. While I possess wings like peregryns, none of the other children have the blessing of flight except for Kiran, a peregryn, and Tesni, a mothkin. So to make sure he celebrates and shares his custom with the house, I cast imaginative spells to create the illusion of us lounging on the clouds above the courtyard. A.. cute attempt to recreate the actual thing but we have fun.
Another one is the Seeker's Gauntlet, a triennial tournament held in the Day Court where scholars from various esteemed institutions compete in a grand stadium, I've been told. During this time, we make up our own challenges and divide the house in teams until the smartest ones face each other in the final rounds. I, unfortunately.. have been kicked out of the games because the children do not trust me with my daemati powers. No matter, I'm content as the sole judge and arbiter. Velaria gets particularly competitive during the games. Seeing her losing to a bunch of children way younger than her is.. funny.
I happily welcome all festivities. It isn't the same as celebrating the actual thing, but it is the most I can do for them. I want the Prythian children to cling on to cherished memories of their homes even when distance separates them. They deserve to feel a sense of belonging and connection to their roots, to celebrate their heritage and keep their cultures alive, no matter where they may be. And.. it's a good thing for the children of Hybern too. And maybe for me.. After all, Hybernians deserve to experience such celebrations, given the lack of them within our own lands.
I should probably refrain from calling them children now as they’re all grown. It has been nearly fifty years since I’ve brought them here. Marilla is a great sister to everyone in the house, she even teaches the younger children with their writing and reading. Cousin to her is Celyn, the quieter one of the two. But in time, she grew to love the place and the other kids. She also makes the best puddings that not even I could replicate her cooking.. Aurelia is the more spirited one of the bunch, always cheering people up, always inspiring mischief, as expected from a faun. Soleil, a selkie, likes to join her in her little pranks. We have a pond now because of her as she needs to be in water every once in a while. Tesni is our sweet little mothkin, which makes her a target to group cuddles because of her furry scales. She has woven me many silk dresses ever since I’ve asked her for one. Kiran is the most well-mannered, often being the voice of reason along with Marilla. Then there is Ahaan who is a child of the arts, I lost count of the many paintings and ceramics he’s made for me. My room and study are so full of them that I'm beginning to run out of space. Always with him is Clem, a sweet child with a penchant for learning, forever curious about the Sidhe where I’ve not yet taken any of them.
Uri, the youngest, is the quietest one, always making gadgets with whatever she finds. Many of my kitchen supplies have been altered to work better because of her. Uri is the only one of them who has developed a habit of calling me mother. I’ve been told that her parents were long gone even before Amarantha took over. During the first months of their stay in Hybern, she had managed to run past the wards and nearly got herself killed if I hadn’t caught up to her. She’s a sensitive child, a bit jumpy and a victim to night terrors, more so than the others.. She may be quiet but she always seeks comfort with the other Prythian children, clinging to Aurelia’s arm or hiding behind Ahaan’s wings. Despite being the youngest, Uri’s intelligence is unwavering, earning her an undefeated record in our version of the Seeker's Gauntlet. It comes as no surprise from a child of Day.
Then there is Rory, a year younger than Marilla but the eldest of the Autumn-born, hails from nobility. Of all the children, he was the most hesitant to call the Lighthouse home. Of course, he warmed up to the place and the other children eventually but he still keeps to himself most of the time. Always reading in his lonesome and observing the fun rather than participating. But I could tell that.. it is just his nature. I imagine he was raised to look down on the lesser fae which.. must’ve been a strange thing to accept for him, considering most of the children in the Lighthouse are.. lesser fae. I mislike that term. Lesser. All my children are the same, no matter their upbringing or the lands they hail from.
While he may not overtly acknowledge it, I know Rory has developed a softer sentiment towards the others. He does not like admitting a lot of things, but he is not good at hiding them either. Not from me. But of course, there is the occasional fight here and there between him and the older children of the house. Squabble between boys that are ended by me all too quickly.
Nowadays, Clem, Rory, Kiran and Soleil are often outside, past the Lighthouse grounds but still within the wards, being trained to fight by Arin after they begged me to. Arin is one of the elder children of the Lighthouse that don't live here anymore. But he still frequently visits before returning back underground, to the Sidhe, where he's one of my three Lieutenants tending to the rebellion.
Many of my older children join him at the Sidhe. My brave children who.. wish to fight for me for a better tomorrow. Now some children of Prythian wish to join them. Velaria may or may not have let some of my Father's plans slip from her loose mouth, and the elder children have grown close to them that they tell the horrors of my Father's experiments on me. Because they do know. Children are not stupid. The Lighthouse is the one place where I could momentarily let go of my gloves. They see my blackened arms and they often.. wonder. So now some of them wish to fight and while their training is not serious… I can see their determination, fueled by a desire for vengeance against Amarantha. But there is a greater threat than her. And I'm not about to risk these children in an upcoming war when they have parents still waiting for them back in Prythian.
They flock around me now, asking: “Can you see if my parents are still alive? Can you see if my siblings still live under the dungeons? Can you see if my High Lord still lives? Can you see if my Court has not been set to cinders? Can you kill Amarantha this time?” All questions overlap each other.
“Settle down. All of you..” I shook my head and willed them to call down. All of them ask for me to check on the wellbeing of their families while others ask for items to be brought back to them, items from their courts they hold dear. When one proposed the idea, everyone agreed and brought forth a scroll to write the things they wish for. Impatiently, they sit there on the floor, fighting for which one got to put on their requests first.
I look at Velaria. “And you? Anything you wish for?”
She put a hand on her hip. “I'd rather come with you.”
“I told you..”
“But I'm not bound to the King. I do not wear golden cuffs, I can leave without him knowing. Please.. Take me with you. I want to see Rhys.. If only for a moment.”
I look away to the children before looking back at her. “Alright. But I need to hide you. Into what.. is the question. Just until I'm done with my visit in the Middle.”
“You could glamour me. Alter my appearance as you've had before when you brought me to the palace.”
“I can't. Amarantha will suspect my relation to you and why I've brought you. I don’t just bring anyone, she knows it. I cannot risk it. And chances are, if you do see your brother while glamoured, he would suspect you're familiar to him..”
Velaria looked down. “The silver ravens..”
“The what..?”
“You could turn your feathers into full creatures, could you not?”
“Yes?”
“Could you turn me into an animal?”
“I am flattered you think I could shapeshift much less shift someone else into an animal.”
“But you could turn your feathers into crows?”
“Yes but my feathers are inanimate. That magic has always been a part of me. Seraphim magic. And the creatures I create are an extension of myself. And do not even suggest using dark magic on you.” I sighed. “I only know curses and hexes that serve to discipline those who would disobey in court.” I trailed off and looked at her, a pout growing on her lips.
“Unless..” I sighed. “Do you really want to go?”
Velaria nods. “Really.”
“There is a curse I learned many years ago in my youth. Magic that will curse someone and turn them into an animal for life. But.. after years of studying, I've learned to undo many curses. And since the hex is a simple enough trick, I could very well undo it.”
She claps happily, tapping her chest excitedly. “Great. Do it. Curse me. But undo it after!” Velaria says a little too enthusiastically. Many would run when a witch suggest to bewitch them. Velaria seems to jump at every opportunity for me to show her weird spells, though. She is a strange one.
“Alright.” I breathed. “What animal?”
“What?”
“What animal would you want to turn into?”
— —
The Attor welcomes me again to the dreadful Under The Mountain and with its presence, the creature around my neck hissed. Amarantha greets me in her empty throne room and we exchange backhanded jabs at one another. The usual. It is clear that my visit is unwelcome, the place is once more void of any soul save for the Attor who keeps breathing down my neck. Amarantha thought to give me a tour around her little hive and wherever we went, dread and anguish followed.
This time she shows me the entirety of her horrid abode with all its rugged twists and turns. She showed me the dungeons where she kept prisoners and heathens who dared disobey her or make her unhappy. She showed me an even deeper dungeon where she kept fae, young and old, all kept in shackles as they cooked and served and.. slaved away, never to see the sun or breathe the air on the surface.
She took me to a grim display, where the bodies of fae she claimed as rebels hung on the wall, their bodies bearing the evidence of dried blood and decay, with clouds of buzzing flies swarming around their putrid remains, feasting on the stench of death. Despite the gruesome sight, it barely made me flinch. I had grown accustomed to the same macabre spectacle back at Father's palace.
“Again with the choice of furniture, Amarantha..” I cover my nose and hear a chuckle from her beside me.
“Do you not like it? I thought you'd feel right at home..”
I hate it. I hate how she's turning into a smaller version of my Father. Even here I cannot escape him. They cannot enslave mortals and so they turn to enslaving their kin.
Before we left from the dungeons she takes pride in, I paused, taking a final glance at the faces of the dead. I studied each pair of their horrifically opened eyes, every feature, searching diligently for any resemblance to the children I once brought here to the Lighthouse.
“What did this one do?” I approach a fae, her wide eyes stared vacantly, locked in an image of fear that remained even in death. Her once vibrant, auburn curls were crudely hacked off and burned, her arms stretched unnaturally towards another faun like herself. A male one.
Just like..
“Hm? Ah. Foolish little doe. Tried to stab me in the back during my entertainments. I wiped out her entire family, you see.” A cruel chuckle escapes her. “I hadn’t even noticed. Only she and her husband remained. And now they'll be together forever. A beautiful death I've bestowed upon them, wouldn't you agree..?"
“How frequent are these attempts?” I try turn my head away, but underneath the mask, my eyes were still glued to the pair, memorising their features, ingraining it into memory. The skin around my cuffs began to itch, aching to tear Amarantha to pieces.
I look at those bodies and see my children. I see Aurelia. I see her eyes in that female's face, pretty and blue and filled with joy.
They are her parents. There is no doubt.
“These bodies have been rotting for over a year now. I should really have them cleaned off the wall.. But I relish in the faces that pass by. Makes people remember their place. But I shouldn’t bore you with my executions. I'm sure you've had your fair share of that back at home already.”
“Father's rule is ever so peaceful. The people are behaved. Unlike yours. Hardly surprised that you have to result to such extremes just for a shrivel of respect.” I passed her, walking away from the dungeon I no longer wanted to see.
I felt the snake around my neck slither slowly, its hiss soft and and quiet beneath my chin. ‘I want to mount her on that wall.’ I hear her little mind say. ‘Niamh, those were..”
‘I know.’
‘Will you tell Aurelia?’
It’ll break her heart. Aside from Uri, every one of those Prythian children still hope that they could be reunited with their families, whomever remains still. They still hold on to that hope that someone, anyone, or just one in their family might still be alive.
Knowing the horrors her parents were subjected to in her absence will break her. It’d break anyone but..
‘I'll have to.’
— —
I was careful to put on gloves today. One touch on a servant or prisoner or even the walls then I might live their pain. After our tour, Amarantha kept me in her little receiving room, with the Attor beside me, watching my every move. We talked about Hybern and the troops she left behind, how I graciously became their beacon of leadership in her absence and how they like me better. All the things that I thought might prick a nerve. And I was right.
“How goes the ruling bit of your vacation?” I ask, my eyes to the balcony that revealed the sky void of clouds.
“If his Majesty is getting impatient he can suck it up and wait. I'm not done here yet.” She hissed, the eye in her ring twitching.
“What of the lordling you're trying to court, hm? Any luck there?” Her eyes narrowed and before she could open her mouth I let out a slight laugh.
“Thought so~”
“It is in progress. He is being.. difficult.” She inhales then smiles her usual wicked one. “But, it shouldn't take too long.. Forty-nine years is almost up. Sooner than late.. he will come to me.”
I raise a brow, “What does that mean?”
Amarantha plays with her silver goblet, admiring how the red swirls in the cup before taking a sip. “I took your advice to heart, Niamh, believe it or no. I sought the Spring Court and invited them to a ball to offer my sincerest apologies after I gauged some boy's eye out. A masquerade ball.” Her gaze flickered to my mask, a wicked fondness spread across her face. “And yet. with all my efforts to see peace between us he.. refused. And.. insulted me.”
A laugh escapes me, earning me a glare from the pretender. But she said nothing as a retort or made an attempt to reprimand me. She only seethed silently and rolled her eyes at me.
“And so I cursed him and the entirety of his foolish flock of hens. If he does not break the curse in seven times seven years.. He will bend the knee to me and become my consort. If he does not bend, I will break him, command his bones to sit on the chair beside me.”
I fight the urge to scoff as I leaned back in my seat. I fear that if I don’t soothe myself I might lunge at her. “And? You still think he'll submit to you then? When for five centuries he refused to do so?”
“He's at his wits end. His powers are dwindling, he cannot defy me any longer.”
The mask hides my growing glare. Any more and I might’ve broken the damn thing with my burning stare alone. This bitch. As soon as I left in my last visit, she cursed him.
She cursed Tamlin.
“And when did this curse begin?”
“A year remains. And I shall await my consort.. with due patience~”
I inhaled the air, slowly, taking in her words yet I still can’t believe what I’m hearing. I feel my hand grip the arms of my seat. I need to calm down.
“And once it's over, then what? When he submits to you, will you finally fulfil your mission?”
“I will rule with my consort as I see fit.” She said simply, shrugging carelessly, as if it were the obvious answer.
I look away, a faint huff of laughter escapes me, harsh and bitter. If I let my gaze linger on her for a moment longer, with her red lipped grin and her horrid black eyes, I would have recreated our duel a century ago. Gods, do I crave to be coated with her blood once more…
“You're pathetic..”
“Excuse me?”
“Resulting in cursing an entire land to get what you want.”
“I will stop at nothing to achieve my goals. You have doubted my capabilities for long enough.”
“My doubts are never wrong.” I stand, marching towards her, each step of my heels like thunder, the room trembling as if responding to my every stride. I clawed at the back of her chair, meeting her dull eyes through the slits of my mask as she visibly froze.
“You are an ill-made, spiteful little devil.” With fingers clenching the back of her chair, I meet onyx through the slits of my mask. There is hatred boiling in those black eyes, hatred uniquely reserved for me. Yet, she doesn't dare move. Time has done little to quench the bitter memory of that duel, the one that left her humbled, broken, and humiliated. With fear now overshadowing any remaining hatred, she knows better than to challenge the one who had once drove a blade into her wretched heart.
“You came from nothing and had to climb your way up to power. And even then you're weak and useless. You flaunt power that does not even belong to you. You think the King is impressed? He does not even spare you a thought. You are irrelevant. In Hybern. In Prythian. In any land you dare step on—you are nothing.”
I felt her fists clench around the arms of her chair that she almost broke it. “How dare you speak to me in such a manner? You think I care what your father thinks? Long have I stopped caring about what he thinks. I made myself Queen in a matter of years and yet you still belittle my achievements. While you, the insipid little princess that you are, still cower and follow every command he throws at you. Are you so jealous that I made something of myself while you still grovel for your father's attention?”
I huffed a quick laugh. “It is not I who grovels for a male’s attention.” I bite back. “I do not curse entire lands in hopes that he might look at me. I do not brutalise peasants in hopes that he might swoon over my cruelty. I do not force people to like me. And yet.. I won over Father. I won over his Court. You made yourself Queen and yet you're still unlikable.”
“You forget yourself. You are no more tool, a plaything to the King than I. You think he will commend you for tormenting me? You think you'll win his affections and tell you he's proud of you, his little girl? He will cast you aside as he did I.”
I let go of the chair, allowing her air to breathe as I stepped back. “He has already commended me. I am High Commander of all his forces. He's crowned me heir apparent in your absence. Father loves me. His court respects me.”
She lets out a mocking laugh, bitter and fake. “You fool yourself, Niamh. Pray tell, what do you hide under those gloved hands?”
“Power. Power he didn't think, not once, to give to you. Tool I may be. But I'm his favourite weapon to wield. I have worked hard and I have earned the love and respect of my court. Queen you are, but only in name. This is not your land. These are not your people. The power you wield isn't yours. You're a pretender through and through. Perhaps if you yield now Father and his court may be merciful. Save them from this embarrassment of a conquest—”
A loud thud echoed through the room as Amarantha unleashed her fury, her clenched fists slamming into the arm of her chair, splintering the bone.
“I. Do not. Want. His mercy. I do not want to be in his Court. I never want to be his tool ever again!! You of all people should know the horrors he inflicts upon people. He's truly broken you, hasn't he?”
“Perhaps. And maybe I am stronger for it. I've never been more myself.” The lie felt like sand on my tongue as I uttered it.
She walks towards me now, daring to close the space between us. “What do you want? Why have you come here, Niamh, truly?”
A smirk fades into my face while I tilt my head. “Do I need a reason? Maybe I merely enjoy tormenting you. Everyone needs a tormenter. These people have you. I have the King.. And you have me~”
“You are awfully interested in Prythian affairs. What have you done to those children I gave you several decades back?”
I pause. “I brought them to a feast.”
“Did you?”
“Hm. Young ones are.. so full of fresh blood.” She narrows her eyes as if trying to figure me out. “Why? Any more gifts for me..~?” I asked which earned me a scoff.
Amarantha scoffed and crossed her arms. “You've overstayed your welcome. No more gifts.”
I clicked my teeth. “Pity.” I step towards the balcony.
“Any rebellion brewing beneath the caves these past decades?”
“If there were, I've put them down.” She leans back in her seat, curbing her fury that I could still very much feel even from a distance. “A few Courts tried years back. They failed. And so I took their young from them and wrought havoc to their Courts.”
I flinched. “How many?”
“Two dozen from the Winter Court. Pity, you were not here to.. take them with you.”
“A shame.” I look back to the grey skies of the a Middle. There's an ominous fog that enveloped this place. Though, I hoped that what lay beyond the mist would be the Prythian Velaria and the children always talked about.
“How do you keep the citizens in check outside the Mountain? Those who did not join their courts?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“I cursed the land so they may not leave their borders. snuffing out any seeds of rebellion before they even take root. Clever little things they are though, managed to lure in mortals to serve as messengers. A pitiful attempt. One that I've crushed and continue to look over.”
I know. I saw them mounted to the walls with the butchered fae during our tour. A twisted form of trophy. I am no stranger to such displays, much of Father's palace decorations are from mortal remains. Another reason why I cannot stand to visit the dreadful place. It reeks. Even more than Under The Mountain.
I feel the snake– Velaria, slither around my neck. ‘He's not here.’ I speak to her little reptile mind. ‘I haven't seen him all day, not even during the tour. I do not know where he is.’ She hisses and hugs my neck tighter as if to say, ‘Find him.’
I sigh and turn to Amarantha. “And where are the High Lords now? Still hiding them from me? Too afraid I might belittle you in their presence?”
“I think they rather not see you. Not after your little display on your last visit, taking their children like that.”
Right..
“And where is your.. errand boy?” I look to the door, as if a small part of me hoped that the male would interrupt us as he did during our last visit.
“Rhysand is off making errands, as you say.”
Velaria hisses quietly below my chin. “What dirty work does he do for you?”
“All good work for his Queen~ Out of all the wretched little things under us, all are worthless to me. But Rhysand.. he is a doll.”
I fight the urge to cringe. “Another bedwarmer?”
“He offered himself willingly.”
“And his Court?”
“Some of them live here away from their little Hewn City. A wonderful place really. I had Under The Mountain moulded in its image. You know? To make my Rhysand.. feel more at home?” She grinned and Velaria's snake body darted out as she hissed at her, which only earned her a scowl from the pretender Queen.
“Control your animal, Niamh.” Amarantha snapped at me, scowling at the creature wrapped around my neck.
I could only smile, putting a hand in front of the snake's head. “The little one does not like you~”
She snarled at the creature, “I mislike snakes.” She muttered.
“Really? What a surprise. Considering yourself..”
“If you do not have anything else to discuss with me you are free to leave and return to Hybern.”
“I shan't. I'm on.. vacation~”
“Vacation?”
“I'm to travel around the island. Fulfill errands of my own.” I said, which wasn't a lie. Father told me to scan the island and draw out any magic that will lead him to the missing parts of the Cauldron. And while I do that I shall also enjoy my time and treat it as a vacation.
“I hope you haven't ravaged the lands so much that I cannot enjoy its beauty?”
“Unfortunately I have not. I'm getting to it. I assure you Prythian is most beautiful when its lands are ravaged..”
I roll my eyes, fighting the groan in my throat. “Then I bid you goodbye. Till the next I torment you again, My Queen~”
— —
I carry the snake around my neck only to find her sulking in my hands. “I revoke my curse.” I command in whispers and a dark aura envelops the snake before returning her back to her original form, with her slender figure and big Illyrian bat wings folded behind her. She stumbled a bit so I had to grab her wrist to ground her.
“He.. He wasn't there.”
“He wasn't.” I frown when I see her dejected face. “I'm sorry.”
She breathes the wretched air of the Middle then her features softened. “At least he is alive. Thank the Mother.. he is alive.”
“Gods, Niamh. It's even worse than I thought. That place.. is as dreadful as Hewn City. Even more.” She shook her head. “We need to help them.”
“I fear their is not much I can do. I can torment Amarantha all I like. But I cannot interfere with her reign. That is.. the one rule Father gave me.” I look down. “The experiment continues.”
“She’s turned the Middle into.. into..”
I inhaled, “A cheap copy of Hybern, I know..”
“What do we do now..? Will you actually search for those missing pieces?”
“I have no choice. I’ll have to. Returning the information I’ve found, however.. is another matter entirely.” I managed to smile. But not even that lasted.
“First.. I need to know more about the curse she put onto the High Lord of Spring.”
She tipped her chin upward, her eyes hinting silent surprise that quickly faded before she nodded.
"We’ll get to it. But first things first.." She trails of as she took my hands. "Let me show you around Prythian as I promised” She suggested instead and I felt my heart skip a bit, a my lips curling into a smile.
"Alright.."
Velaria links her arm with mine and we begin walking away from the dreadful Mountain. “Where do I even start? Autumn and Summer are close. Winter is right below but it's awfully cold there. I would rather not freeze to death on the start of our.. tour. And I’d do anything to be far, far away from this ghastly place.”
She stood behind me and covered my eyes before I heard the snap her fingers, winnowing us away from the Middle within seconds.
And immediately I felt the air shift.
Slowly she let go of my head, gently uncovering my eyes. Gradually, the world around me emerged—warm colors danced everywhere, the cold breeze swayed leaves in odd shapes and carried the crisp fragrance of soil mingled with the soothing scent of rain-kissed earth.
I can feel Velaria stifle a chuckle as my face betrays the look of wonder, my eyes showing yearning for the smallest of things. Even my heart began to race that I felt a twinge of embarassment for it. It is pathetic, I'm sure. And I ought to contain my childish excitement.
Velaria lets out a heavy sigh after she inhales the fresh, autumn air. And I did the same. I breathed in the air that was so strange, unfamiliar, nice. And I kept sniffing the air like every breath was a need and I have suffocated for years and years on end. Because I have.
“Ah.. That's the smell. Gods. It smells soo nice here. No offence but Hybern air could not compare.”
“I know. None taken.” The words came out of me without thought, my eyes focused only on the view below, a sea of warm coloured trees stretched before me. An ocean of red and orange and yellow leaves gently swayed by the wind. It was as if the Mother herself had used the Earth as her canvas, lavishly splashing brilliant, warm colors across the landscape. I have never seen anything so colourful.
“The forest.. It's.. big.”
“Is it not?” She gushed as she smiled happily. “Autumn and Spring are very well covered with trees and forests. The High Lord of Autumn has his abode set at the heart of the Court, built not with stone but through trees called the Forest House!"
“But that is horrible. How would the place hold when enemy attacks with fire?” I asked. A genuine question.
But Velaria laughs softly, thinking my question to be silly. “Magic, maybe? Fire is Autumn’s especially. But I can't believe that's your first question. Come, we'll explore together.” She holds my hand.
I smiled and I let her lead me wherever she pleased whether or not she knew where to go. And all the while we explored the lush forests, I kept admiring the canopy of leaves up above, and how the sun peeked through the cracks, mildly blinding me. And more often than not, Velaria had to remind me to watch my step, to look forward and not upward when I could trip on twigs and branches hidden under the pool of maple leaves that swallowed my ankles.
Maple leaves. It is what they're called.
“Aurelia asked me to bring her some big maple leaves. So she may preserve it and put it on her bedside table.”
“Ah, right. The list. We can grab a few. The biggest maple leaf for her to preserve.”
I summon the list before me, looking for the things the children back at the Lighthouse requested. “Clem wants knitted scarves. Rory did not list anything but.. I'm going to get him scarves too.”
Velaria chuckled. “Then we better start looking for their things.”
— —
Autumn is warm and vibrant, even as an endless canopy of leaves blankets the sky, veiling the sun. Yet, the people of this Court are visibly on edge. Expected, given the blight infecting the lands and their High Lord nowhere in sight. I learned that there are several princes, all of them stuck Under the Mountain save for one. The one in Spring just next door.
I feel my heart clench inside my chest. Not yet. I cannot go there yet.
Velaria had whisked me away to a territory south east of the mountains that border Winter and Autumn, leading me to a quaint village tucked deep within a forest, weakly warded with magic I easily walked into. Some sections of the place bore the faint signs of destruction, with children claiming that they had been attacked by forces loyal to Amarantha. It seemed that the damage was old enough that the villagers had made significant progress in rebuilding. But the trauma of such an attack, no matter how minor, no doubt still lingers on the people’s faces.
I had myself glamoured like the commonfolk as did Velaria, my mask long discarded since leaving Amarantha's abode and my silver strands turned to a dark amber color. We strolled through the town in silence, trying not to draw attention to ourselves before Velaria pointed to a market square at the center of the town. She turned into a walking encyclopedia for the many things that were foreign to me. Jams. Scented candles. Roasted nuts. The infamous pumpkin I keep hearing about.
Amazing. It’s like a whole new world of things in this humble little square.
And, and, while Velaria was off exploring more stalls, I have been introduced to the art of crochet. Knitted scarves line several vendor's lineup of products, many of them a variety of colourful scarves, the threads often representing repeated patterns and images of acorns and pumpkins. I’ve commissioned an artisan for several scarves, one for every Autumn-born child, and watched as she made them for me. Apparently, I’ve made her uncomfortable with my ogling her work and so I stopped staring and just sat there looking at something else.
When Velaria returned she came back to me now sitting beside the young crochet artisan with a thread of yarn and hook of my own, my eyes set on the artisan's skilled, furry little hands, imitating her every move.
In the end, I got my knitted scarves and managed to make.. a hat. Though.., too small for my head. I have neglected the measurements it seems. The artisan also gifted me the crochet hook along with a bundle of yarn for my extra payment. I thanked her kindly and erased everyone’s mind of me and Velaria's visit before setting off.
“Wow~ Quick learner, aren't you?” She bumped into my arm as she looked at my creation.
I couldn’t help but smile proudly. “Thank you. Do you like it?” I watched as she put on the small hat on her head. It did not fit her either.
“It's pretty. In no time, you'll be a master knitter.”
“It is called crochet.”
“Crochet–er..”
“I want to taste pumpkin.” I suddenly blurted out.
And Velaria wasted no time in leading me to a nearby inn, eager to treat my stomach to the delicacies of the Autumn Court. Velaria ordered me a bowl of pumpkin soup. She did not warn me of the spice part. And so when I ate my fill I did so with my face as red as the owner's beard. I didn't want to be rude so I finished it, every spoonful tasted sweet and warm and.. different. Despite the tears that began to form in the corner of my eyes, I was happy because I finally knew what pumpkin tasted like. Velaria on the other hand, had her head rolled back as she laughed at me and my reddened face.
I am used to her doing that. More often than not, my reaction to the smallest of things amuses the hell out of her.
“Good?” The owner asked, his voice just as amused.
I nod, unable to say anything as I gulp down the final drop of burning soup. “M-mhm.. A-amaziiing..” With my compliment, the owner smiled happily and nudged my shoulders.
We winnowed to the borders of Autumn soon after for the Summer Court. We walked in silence, the only sounds being the crunching of leaves beneath footsteps and Velaria's stifled giggles.
My tongue still burns..
“Velaria. Enough.” I sigh. “It is not that funny.”
“It's a little funny..”
“I find you often laugh at my misery.” I pout.
“Oh, I cannot help it, you are cute when you're utterly clueless.”
“I wouldn't have been clueless if you warned me of the soup's spice. I don't know if I tasted more spice than I did pumpkin. What if you ruined pumpkin for me forever?” I sigh.
“You overexaggerate.” I hear her snort. “High Commander of Hybern forces.. cannot handle spice..” She bursts into giggles again and I roll my eyes. Yet there is a smile on my face.
“Any other spicy foods I should be wary of in Summer because I..” I was about to continue speaking when the sun's warm rays suddenly hit me, no longer shielded by the leafy canopy above.
The heat was.. intense, the brightness nearly blinding. I shut my eyes instinctively, and when I opened them again, I was stunned by the sight that greeted me: a vast expanse of open skies painted with fluffy white clouds.
Never could I imagine Hybern with such scenery. In Hybern, the land is bleak, the skies perpetually covered in a haze of murky clouds and fog, barely allowing the faintest touch of sunlight.
“I never knew.. that clouds could arrange themselves to create a canvas of such beauty, or that the sun could shine with such fervor,.. that it's warm when it touches me.” My voice cracks as I whisper, my eyes narrowed and blinded by the sun and yet I could not tear my eyes off of it.
Velaria was silent behind me, still shielded by the shade of Autumn trees. But I sensed her turmoil within. Maybe she pitied me. For being imprisoned in the shadows for so long that even the most mundane of natural wonders felt foreign to me.. I would pity myself as well.
She gently touched my hand, her touch firm yet soft as she gently tugs at my fingers, silently beckoning me to follow her. “Come. I'll take you to Adriata..”
I did not budge.
“Niamh?”
“Wait.” And I stare for a while more. Then more. Until I found myself under the shade casted by Velaria's large wing above my head.
“Can we.. go.. now?” She asks, and I gently swat her wing away.
“Wait.”
And so we wait for a few more minutes. Maybe an hour. Or two. Velaria is sitting in the ground now, her huge wings shielding her from the sun since I refused her.
“Can we go now?” I hear her muffled voice from inside her wing shelter.
“Wait..” My eyes are burning. I might be blind. A little woozy, even. But Mother above, does it look beautiful.
“Niamh, you will literally get a sunburn.” She stood up at last and covered my head with her wing once more.
“We're leaving now.” She grabbed my hand and winnowed us someplace else, under the shade of a peculiar looking tree.
“Gods above, you're red. It’s like the Cauldron have boiled you!” She was torn between horrified and close to bursting into a fit of laughter again. “You look like you've been cooked by the sun!”
I smiled wide and touched my face. Oh. It stings. “Really? Am I tan like you?”
“More like.. red.” She snorted and hesitated to touch my apparently burnt face. I was still smiling. And she was on the verge of cackling again.
“Does it look bad?”
“Heal yourself before we waltz inside Adriata looking like I have a fried chicken walking beside me.” She cackles. “If you show your wings you'd actually look like fried fowl. Raw, barely cooked.. fowl.”
“You are a very mean Illyrian..” I mocked a pout and did as she told and healed myself with a pat of the palms to my cheek.
Velaria took me to the main city of Summer called Adriata, near the beach, overlooking the harbor. Unlike the dense forests of Autumn, Summer's territory was largely composed of flat lands veiled in sparkling sand. And unlike Autumn, the people here seemed much more downtrodden. The golden castle once perched regally atop the water now lay in ruin, its once-brilliant walls scorched by flames. The docks that lined the harbor were torn asunder, with sections now sunk into the depths of the sea. The air was tinged with the scent of the sea and decaying fish as many fishers frantically came and went carrying baskets of fish they claimed to be dead.
So it seems she poisoned their oceans too.
These poor people. What could they have possibly done to deserve this? And what could I do to help them? Before I could think, I was pulled away from the busy harbor and winnowed to empty shores.
“I will show you around first. You thinking of ways to help these people can come later.” She crossed her arms.
“It is.. beginning to become difficult to enjoy this.. ‘vacation’, given the circumstances.”
“I know. And I want to help them, too but.. I’ve been waiting for this all day.”
“Waiting for what?”
She let go of my shoulders and pointed at the ocean. “Showing you the beach, silly Niamh.”
“Oh..” A smile creeped onto my face. I can’t deny that I was feeling excited at the thought of dipping my feet into the water. “Of course.”
Before the water could touch me, I summoned the scroll of requests and read Soleil and Tesni’s writing. “What's a conch?” I looked at Velaria as she ran to the shore, then stopped immediately as I asked a question.
“Are you serious?” She deadpanned, her voice tinged with disbelief. I responded with a shrug and a shake of my head, a small smile present on my face.
“Seashells, Niamh??” I shake my head again.
“I will bite your father's head off, I swear to the Mother above.” She muttered under her breathe before inhaling. “Come here. I'll show you.”
Hesitantly I followed her to the approaching waves. She took off her shoes and told me to do the same. When the waves came and swept under me, seemingly pulling me towards the ocean, I lost my balance and struggled to stand, the sand slowly sinking beneath my feet as Velaria reached for my gloved arm. She laughs and I couldn't help but do the same. Water splashes onto my clothes, droplets hitting my face and I taste salt in my tongue when I smile.
Velaria looked down to the sandy floor, the water, despite being cursed by whatever Amarantha did to it, was still pristine blue and clear. Vel reaches out to the floor, occasionally being pushed forward by waves.
She then presented me with tiny stones.
“This is a seashell.” She says, showing me the circular looking thing, pale blue and yellow colours twisted to the centre of its body. “And this is a conch.” She presents me a larger shell, one not so circular, spiral shaped with tiny spikes twisting into a small spire.
“Conches and seashells are alive actually. But these ones are dead, I think. Just shells. Makes for pretty decor. Maybe we can make a collection for Soleil and Tesni.” She hands them to me and keeps looking for more while I follow behind.
We spent a good while looking for conches and seashells. I lost the first ones Vel found when I was pushed to the water by a big wave. The water was salty, truly. I had swallowed a good mouthful of it. Velaria, of course, found it funny, dropping her collection of shells to hold her tummy as she laughed at me and the seaweeds that newly adorned my head. How dare she. In retaliation, I flung water to her face. In which resulted in a battle that had us both drenched in sea water from head to toe.
She decided that the shell collecting could wait and before long she was dragging me to the deeper parts of the ocean that the water reached my collarbones. I whined and cried and begged her to bring me back to shore because I.. could not.. swim..
“Oh, you'll be fine. I'll fly you out if you drown.” She clicked her teeth and winked at me.
Velaria is many things. A good swim teacher is not one of them. I lost count on how many times she let me get swept by the waves. In the end, I gave up and just clung to her arm like a slug. We stuck to shell collecting on shallow waters soon after. And when we were satisfied with the amount Velaria suggested: sand castle building. And so while I watched her make a horrendous looking hovel made of sand, I looked through the list of requests again.
“Tesni wants a spider.” I said and Velaria looked at me weird.
“Why would she want a spider?”
I shrugged and showed her the list. “Is this not a drawing of an arachnid?” I asked.
She looked at the paper for a moment and looked me dead in the eye. “Niamh. That's a crab.”
“What's a crab?”
— —
Crabs. Crabs are wonderful creatures. I spent a good hour watching them head to sea in a beautiful line while Vel stood watch with her wings spread, protecting the crustaceans from prying seagulls. Crustaceans. That's what they are. Not arachnids.
Vel gave up on her sand castle after the waves took over and left nothing but a lump of sand in its wake, which was no different from the structure she was working on anyway. Then we head to the city, glamoured like the common folk and still soaking wet because Vel wanted me to try ice cream. And I am proud to say that ice cream has completely altered my brain and that I will have to recreate the dessert back in Hybern.
I also learned what a coconut was and drank from it and ate its insides. Very nice. Very refreshing. Not spicy at all.
“Do you live under a rock?” The little water wraith child pointed at me. I hear Velaria’s chuckle behind me. ‘She does.’ She murmured.
I asked the child about Amarantha’s curse upon Spring and he thought I’d been playing dumb. Apparently, everyone knows what happened.
“There was a ball before the first year of Amarantha's reign came to a close. A.. what’s it called? Masquerade ball? She invited the people of Spring to make amends. She offered a seat beside her for the High Lord, to serve as her consort! He refused, of course. Insulted her to her face and faced her wrath for it!”
I hear Velaria suck a breath beside me. “What did she do?” I asked.
“She glued the masks to their faces. Everyone in Spring apparently has them now. She turned the High Lord's heart into stone, putting him in a curse that entails.. that if he doesn't break it in forty-nine years, he will have to surrender and uhm.. ‘bend the knee’, as my brother said..”
“And the curse.. What was it?”
“He had to find himself a human who has hatred for Fae in her heart. He had to bring her to Prythian and make her fall for him. Fall for him truly. Only then.. the curse will be broken and the people of Spring will be freed”
“Only the people of Spring?”
She nods. “If he breaks it, his powers will return to him. He can kill her!”
“And.. has he.. begun the search?”
The girl frowned. “We do not know. We do not know what's happening in Spring anymore. We used to have people.. informants. Human mortals. My brother suspected.. they've been found and killed. There's no way to know now. Less than a year remains.. We're at the mercy of The Unfading one now.”
I was silent for a while as I processed her words.
The weight of not just the Spring Court weighed on his shoulders now. It’s the entirety of Prythian. All the while his powers have been weakened. I felt my heart sink in my chest that it might’ve stopped beating.
He has to break the curse. He has to..
I felt Velaria’s hand on my shoulders before she knelt before the child in front of us. “Don’t lose hope.” She said.
The child smiles faintly. “Most of us already have.” She said before running off to catch up to other wraiths who returned to the water to search for more dead fish.
“Niamh.” Velaria calls to me, her hand soft on my arm.
Yet I couldn't hear her..
Masks. Glued onto their faces. I’ve had a mask on my face for as long as I could remember. Amarantha struck me during that one visit. My mask fell. She held it. She held it and the gears in the horrid head began turning. My mask inspired her. I inspired the wretched curse.
And now..
“Niamh..?"
I felt like throwing up.
“I want to go fishing.” I said instead.
— —
I didn’t want to dwell on it. It’s not my fault. It’s not.. Yet when I do, the guilt gnaws in my chest like a damn parasite. I could only turn to something else to distract myself, distract Velaria because I know well she’s noticed that I’ve been acting strange since the revelation of that curse.
So when the opportunity presented itself, I had volunteered myself to fish near the.. ‘coral reefs’, whatever that was. The fishers needed all the help they could get, after all. Only.. I did not know how to fish. Velaria pretended she could, only to sit there on the raft for hours without anything catching her bait. I stood and watched them, a bit embarrassed to admit I spend a good amount of time just gawking at the colorful reef below the water. A perfect momentary distraction. Only then I knew what corals were. And they were.. so very pretty.
And while I sat there on the edge of the fishers’ raft, I let my left glove disintegrate for a moment, allowing my bare fingers to dip and swirl in the water. I focused my magic, altering the curse that Amarantha had placed on it to.. ease their work. I would only aim to reverse the blight in a small area, hoping to alleviate the fishers' plight without drawing too suspicion. Because Amarantha will find out and the people will surely suffer her wrath for something they once again didn’t do.
The few fishers that were on the raft freaked out when they felt their line tugged beneath the water, thanking the Mother above for such a miracle. Velaria looked at me, knowing well that the miracle was me, and patted me on the head.
The people of Summer couldn't hide their euphoria, now that their bellies were full with the fish. They held a spontaneous celebration by the docks, with some fishermen too impatient to cook their catch at home, instead indulging right there and then. They shared whatever they could do those in need. I needed no fish to fill me, but I was happily shared some either way.
The people of Summer proved to be as warm and welcoming as the land they lived in.., which is why I regretted deeply that I had to wipe myself and Velaria from their memories before we left.
I do not know what the future holds.. But may there be many more fishes to come to keep those smiles on their faces.
— —
It's dark when our adventures in Summer ended. Velaria, too tired to enter another Court, suggested we stay on the shores and wait for daylight. So we did. We lay on the sand with the waves still singing in the background and the birds flying overhead and into the sun that sank below, meeting its reflection in the horizon.
I’m not obligated to return to Hybern even if the sun came down as the King instructed me to seek out the three legs of the Cauldron anyway. And so far I have not found nor sensed the priestesses who possess them so.. I dub my vacation extended.
I do not see Hybern in the distance. A good thing. And while Father is out of sight and out of reach, the golden cuffs around my wrist itches still, reminding me that even if he isn't here I am still bound to him and my cage doesn't depend on where I am.. My cage is always with me.
And I am never truly free.
I let the gloves covering my arms disintegrate, letting the cool air brush past the cursed skin of my blackened hands. I fidgeted with the green handkerchief securing the end of my braid, tugging at it until it came undone, freeing the glamour-woven strands. Now revealed was my true hair - a striking silver cascade, shimmering in the sunlight as it fell onto the sand..
Slowly, I tie the cloth to my wrist, above the golden cuff, hiding it. Replacing it.
Velaria seems to notice. She lays beside me, her big wings spread freely after a whole day of hiding it.
“Where do you wish to go tomorrow?” She asks, her hand touching mine.
“Anywhere is fine.. Anywhere is beautiful, surely..” I did not tear my eyes off the clouds as the first tiny silvery specks of stars began to appear, paving way to dusk’s fleeting moment of splendor before night.
“Winter is right up north. Spring to the south.” She says, looking at me as she did.
“Winter.” I say quickly. “Let's go to Winter first. Then Dawn. Day. Then, Night.” I look at her. “To Velaris, if you wish.”
“Do you not want to go to Spring?”
“Do you?”
She said nothing.
“We can go to Spring last.” I said, turning my gaze back to the changing hues of the skies.
And for a moment, there was peaceful silence between us as we let our eyes rest with the view of the coming of twilight.
“Why did you snap at Amarantha when she told you of her curse to the Spring Lord?” Her voice was a mere whisper and I fought myself to remain unflinching at her question. Of course she noticed.
Because he is mine..
“Because it was a horrible thing. What she did. I.. The common folk are easy enough to fool. If we wander about Spring with a High Lord present, I doubt we would be so lucky.” I lied. A weak attempt. I know she sees through the lie. Because there is no place and no person I couldn't fool. Not when I could just erase their memories after meeting them.
Yet she let it slide this time, never prying, always patient.
In truth, it is the High Lord of Spring that I am avoiding. The fear of meeting him and running the risk of the bond snapping for him at last and ruining his efforts of breaking whatever curse Amarantha has brought upon him. I could laugh. That I am here, avoiding my mate when some would commit atrocities to find theirs. Avoiding my mate so that he may find himself a human mortal to make his lover lest he's faced with a worse alternative.
Either way I lose him to another.
Perhaps I am scared that the bond will snap and I will be unable to control myself. I will ruin him, I will ruin myself and the plans I've well crafted throughout the centuries. The plot against the King, to free my people and myself from our golden shackles.
And so I will sacrifice myself again. And pray.. that in the future I may find him again. And if he's happy with another I will accept the outcome with a stiff lip.
I close my eyes. My thoughts have not found respite. I have not seen him in what feels like an eternity, his face is all but fading in my mind. And when I close my eyes like this it is gold that I see. Not the gold of my cuffs, or gold of coins. I see golden locks reflecting the shine of the fiery sun. I see green and eternal fields of roses. When we wandered about Autumn, it is to his Court my gaze wanders to and I imagine– I yearn to run to the border and feel the bond tickle at the pulse in my wrist, tugging at it, pulling at it. When we wandered about Summer, the shimmering sand below my feet reminded me of his hair and I wondered if his locks would flow so softly between my fingers as did the sand when it fell through the cracks of my hands.
“Then we will go to Winter.” She held my hand tighter. “I warn you though, it's cold.”
“I got that from the name, Vel.”
The two seasonal courts have embraced me so kindly, with Autumn's warmth and Summer's fresh ocean air, I have no doubt that the others will too. I have no doubt that snow will be as captivating as the children say, nor do the libraries tempt me to stay in Day. I have no doubt that the skies are most beautiful when it's dimly lit like a candle's flame in the quiet of Dawn. I have no doubt that Velaris is as beautiful as Velaria described, adorned with a thousand falling crystals that light up its dark skies.
Yet deep down, I find myself yearning for what lies to the south. Spring consumes my thoughts, beckoning me with its lush plains and colourful blooms. Sights that I could only conjure in my mind.
It is Spring that I long to experience above all else.
— — — —
<<Ch.1 <<Ch.5 ___ Ch.7>>
A/n: She's going through it 😭 Such a yearner, she wants him so bad 😔😔 girl me too. Getting attached with the Lighthouse children ngl. They are important to me and the plot 😔♥ I want more lesser fae that are not literally just humans with pointed ears. I want Holly Black kind of fae people, that's what most of the children Niamh keeps are, not entirely humanlike, but a good balance between humanoid and creature. Myb I'll draw them aaa
Vel showing her around or just her getting to know Prythian reminded me of this song. Niamh is so Ariel-coded ngl 🥹
#tamlin x oc#pro tamlin#tamlin x reader#acotar tamlin#IT PUBLISHED ON ACCIDENT NO#we go with the flow#this is fine
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arknights 4.5 anni stream recap
haven't seen anyone put a full recap anywhere, which is a shame because there's so much going on in this one! so i'll be posting everything you might have missed in text-form, for anyone who wants that kind of summary.
credits to @AK_CN_Shitpost on twitter and Kazdel Team on youtube for translations/hosting, community members in my discord, and my friends on twitter so i know whats going on. putting this under a readmore because it'll be long:
stream starts off with 4.5 anni congratulation messages from several CN VAs, including:
Kal'tsit
Passenger
Chongyue
W/Frostleaf
Ho'olheyak
Myrtle
Ifrit
Mudrock
Ines
Executor
we get a PV featuring Viviana and Arturia about a new event taking place in Leithanien. we're getting several new ops, including:
Bassline, a 5* Guardian Defender
Lessing, a 6* Dreadnought Guard
Viviana, a 6* Arts Fighter
and Arturia the Virtuosa, a Limited 6* Ritualist Supporter.
her e2 art, like all other limited operators, will have Live2D.
the new event will be called Zwillingstürme Herbst (roughly something to do with the fall and possibly the twin empresses)
new skins for several operators! it's an epoque line this time. theme is "Life," and keywords are "Past/Story".
Gwiazdcytro (Meteor), Noon Twilight (Absinthe), Lances Off (Ashlock), Royal Guard (Bagpipe)
two new animated Live2D skins:
Wdali (Mlynar); the text says "'Fear neither hardship nor darkness'... Ah, an era that is not worth remembering, a dream which is too awake." (credit to @/lingtranslates on their twitter for this translation)
Wingbreaker (Texas the Omertosa)
there's a new QoL update: players will now be able to auto-farm stages up to a maximum of 6 times per run
new red cert shop operators
new archive drops for operators, including:
rosa
arturia
diamante
czerny
santalla
shalem
new operator modules:
mudrock
penance
vulcan
lessing
nearl the radiant knight
bassline
bagpipe
new themed furniture sets:
there's a brief overview and explanation of the new operator skills and gameplay, but i won't go over that here because there's still a lot to get to. however, gamepress usually releases a review on these operators after release, and youtubers like kyostinv will upload showcases pretty quick after they drop, for people who are curious about them
there's a very cute PV about kjerag! it goes into the history of the country and some cultural celebrations about kjeragandr, as well as development of the country and such. it's pretty cute (and sorta wes anderson-ish)
AK is adding a german and russian dub for their lethanien and usran characters, respectively
we'll be getting a new event in rim billiton with amiya and the dr
new sargon-related teaser
we're getting more reclamation algorithm! this time you'll have the ability to "save" and not have to restart from the ground up every time it seems
we got a teaser about the next sui sibling! from @AK_CN_Shitpost:
Next spring event will take place in an agricultural production city, Zuo Le who is sent to rest got involved in farming issue. So the next spring event will involve Zuo Le and possibly the agriculture Sui brother?
there will be another R6S collab. supposedly we're also getting a rerun for Operation Originium Dust, but this will also involve a new collab event.
other assorted notes:
new trailer about a cute, comedic series that involves ceobe, popukar, ethan, bubble, and mountain update: it is called kay's daily doodles! a translated trailer has been uploaded to the official EN AK account here
perish in frost trailer (CN dub)
AK artbook announcements: Arknights Animation Artworks Vol. 1 and Arknights Official Artworks Vol. 3 are being released, with Vol. 3 being teased with an art of the 3 abyssal hunters(!!!)
release of a book that seems to be about the in-universe lore and worldbuilding of Terra, including maps and wildlife
a new manga about Silverash and Gnosis's pasts
release of the first 123 Rhodes Island?! volume, along with new merch featuring Kal'tsit, Rosmontis, Amiya, the Doctor, Blaze, and Ch'en
official boardgame. looks like you will be able to collect supplies, build or move shelter?, and there's various cards with different operators on them (we were shown Liskarm, Kal'tsit, Silverash, Dorothy, and W cards). it is called Nomad City: The Founders.
new figures: 1/7 scale figures of Angelina and Mostima (Fitness Time Ver.) prototypes, 1/7 scale Kal'tsit figure, THRM-EX figure prototype, mini figure prototypes of Lessing, Virtuosa (Arturia), and Viviana, as well as 6 more designs of those character-in-a-recruitment-bag figures of- rhine labs edition! featuring Muelsyse, Magallan, Dorothy, Silence, Ifrit, and Saria.
IchibanKuji x Arknights collab Gunfire in Darknights featuring Amiya and Ch'en (Londinium sprites) on the promotional artwork.
AK Cafe with Chongyue, Ines, and Goldenglow on the promotional artwork in Shanghai and Chengdu next year (AK X PrismLand), called Sweet Zone
AK collab with the Nanyue King Museum (yes, really)
new merch promo that shows what looks to be different plushies (originium slug, chibi nian in dragon(?) form, bunnies), character-in-a-recruitment-bag sora, and figures of Eyjafjalla (swimsuit skin ver.), Shining, and Amiya (these are not new, it's probably a sale or a re-run of some kind)
lowlight breaks eggs with the lethanien icon on them. with a giant hammer. yeah
promo for something that's called My First Story, looks like it's an animated song PV featuring W, Amiya, and Kal'tsit
lore about The First Catastrophe and a timeline of Terran history. the twin empresses are revealed to be Hildegard and Lieselotte (yes, really); the witch king is Herkunftshorn
there's some more extra goodies (like a Monster Siren Records promo, what looks like a new season of CC, a new Joint Action banner with Mizuki, Suzuran, Surtr, and Pozyemka, new ops now available in recruitment like Flint, Eunectes, and Acid Drop, a new free skin - maybe from a record restoration? - for Flamebringer) but i think i'll hit tumblr's picture limit if i include all of those.
that's a wrap!
(shoutout to discord user @/nobowo) who also gave a short stream recap in my arknights LGBT discord server)
#arknights#arknights anniversary#arknights spoilers#arknights 4.5 anniversary stream#arturia the virtuosa#virtuosa#long post#i saw some people posting certain pictures#so heres some context#sorry if some things are just. Wrong#i do not speak and cannot translate CN so im relying on scrounging up translations from Various sources
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