#the common populace
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'W scene in sauce city rp 🤣🤣'STFU!!!!!!!!!!
#if i ever get told w or l in real life im going to lose all sense of societal norms and start committing unspeakable fits of rage amongst#the common populace#anyways i just wanted to use this and say that derek stingley was the cornerback drafted 3rd overall..#.... exactly One (1) spot OVER our 4th overall princess sauce#WHO#b4 the drafted... stated he was the best IN ALL THE DRAFT#( but i think we know he also specifically was trying to hint that .. supreme cb status he yearns desperately for)#i mean#who got rookie dpoy ? hm ?#BUT THATS REALLY NOTHING.. truly unimportant...#..... but derek didnt. btw. and the jets got more awards than the texans. did the texans even GET an award? like? at all?#sauce has no idea.. merely curious 😇!#is all 👼#he says... knowingly#BUT WE'RE GETTING OFF TOPIC WHAT I MEAN IS. BY THIS#derek is apparently besties with jamarr.#..... sauce is.#trying#in his own saucey ways#even tho he got the trophy.. the sauce is never satisfied.#ESPECIALLY when it comes to proving his TRUE WORTH over STINGLEY . .#i think hmmmmm. we may have a jelly bean on our nvm that sounded fcking dumb as fuck what am i#timothee chalamet wonka? oh HELL no 😭#my fucking point is isnt it funny how derek is besties w/chase and sauce so desperately wants to be#and derek got drafted over sauce. but sauce got an award SO WHOS THE LOSER NOW HUH ??#(it's sauce.)#i just think thats funny to know and others should too ok ty BYE
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electing to believe this is what griddlehark looks like to everyone else
#like i could go into my thoughts on bodymodification in domincus and how i think#light eyes/non-brown eyes are infinitely more common now#despite the fact there still seems to be adhesion to the relative norm (natural eye colors#yellow eyes being both unique to the populace of canaan house and unique enough that#gids lineage can be determined via#DESPITE the fact that while theoretically it would be a superficial change#john seems to have inadvertently changed his own genetics to do it? making it something a necromancer Could Do?#idk. whatever#the locked tomb#thoughts from the stars#1k#2k#3k#shout out to my first post to hit#4k#5k#sighs#6k
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laios and kabru being very explicit narrative and character foils of each other means you're primed to expect some extent of honesty and candor from laios at every turn throughout, even if it's to negative effect, while your impression of kabru means you expect his every action and word to bely ulterior motive or manipulation, even if it's out of good intentions. and how thoroughly this is subverted in the end, when kabru is forced by pressure and circumstance into painfully, awkwardly honest confession and conduct, forced to stand back and spectate instead of trying to pull strings and control. and laios rises up out of nowhere with an underhanded scheme so shocking and thorough it tricks everyone, and suspends them into inaction and speechless disbelief, clearing his path to the throne. i just think it's neat how they're foils and opposites until they embody each other's core traits at some of their most pivotal developmental moments
#idk if i was the only one but i initially assumed kabru was introduced like that so the two would have some sort of race to the throne#not even because i thought kabru was underhanded i just thought that's what she was setting up with their two opposed parties#with the same common goal but vastly different ways of going about it and clashing personalities#i really thought the narrative subversion would be priming us for golden chosen one laios all along and then kabru swooping in at the end#but instead it was indeed laios in the end yet with no shortage of surprises and satisfaction imo#i like it a lot more this way for both of them. kabru suits a quieter background role where his communicative skills take center stage#and laios has the kind of simplicity and humility that means he can be guided by his people and court on matters beyond his reckoning#rather than centering his own and risking tyrannical or apathetic leadership#thus kabru gets what he wanted all along. gets to have his say and opinion. to represent humanity's needs and see to them all#and have a king who is kind and learning to communicate with and understand his populace and those around him#dungeon meshi#laios#kabru
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constantly thinking about that thing Admiral Cain says to Maverick in his office:
"Yet you can’t get a promotion, you won’t retire, and despite your best efforts, you refuse to die. You should be at least a two-star admiral by now, if not a senator."
a senator.
a SENATOR.
you want pete "maverick" mitchell to run for public office? huh? is that what you want, cain? you're an even crazier motherfucker than maverick to even put that thought in the universe's head.
#the disappointing reality of what maverick's personal politics must be aside#....that's just a buckwild thing to say cain#wtf is your thought process there#sure a higher percentage of congresspeople are veterans than the normal populace#but going into politics is by NO MEANS expected or even common post-military service???#what exactly is it about maverick that makes cain think 'yeah. that guy could be a senator'#and why is it probably a disparaging thought for senators#as opposed to a compliment to maverick#anyway. wild#top gun: maverick#pete maverick mitchell#admiral chester cain
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If ignorance and passion are the foes of popular morality, it must be confessed that moral indifference is the malady of the cultivated classes. The modern separation of enlightenment and virtue, of thought and conscience, of the intellectual aristocracy from the honest and common crowd is the greatest danger that can threaten liberty.
— Henri-Frédéric Amiel
#life quotes#lifequotes#light#quote#quote of the day#quoteoftheday#quotes#wisdom#Henri-Frédéric Amiel#morality#ignorance#passion#virtue#enlightenment#moral indifference#indifference#culture#cultivated class#separation#division#disconnection#disconnect#thought#conscience#intellect#intellectual aristocracy#honesty#common crowd#populace#danger
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I think it's interesting how he yu seems completely bereft of empathy for the people around him, even and especially xie xue who he supposedly has a crush on however we see such an intense outpour from him for the people at the mental health institute to the point that he risks his life and even exposes his ability he needed to hide to save these people deemed too difficult to save.
It makes me wonder if there's more to his statement of having been 'born this way'- perhaps he was born with this psychological ebola (insane phrase, insane fictional mental illness with special abilities) similar to a form of neurodivergency but it makes me wonder what was done to him, what happened to him that the only people he can feel empathy for are other victims of mental health care?
At this point it could certainly be that he just faced the extreme humiliation of mental health treatment already described in the book so far (tied up, made to look like a madman), but..
#bab liveblog#truescholar.txt#i was a little leery when we entered the mental hospital and the way xie xue perceived it as well as the common trope of the mental patient#hooting and hollering and acting belligerent and frightening and disgusting#a little tasteless but then i felt drawn in by the extreme abuse depicted in jiang lanping 🥹 i wish she got better than what she got and go#to live 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 but the way he yu especially acted and spoke about the mental patients was very good very handsome very charismatic#the first time in the book we see him acting and speaking compassionately#perhaps in a way he's similar to mo ran who will empathize with someone so hard if he can relate his own experiences to them#but i feel that with he yu in his mind there's a painful divide between madmen and the other general members of the populace#in which he is very firmly in the madman category and he is so painfully aware of this divide that has dehumanized him that it makes him mo#apathetic towards those he sees as not similar to himself#it's definitely been the most interesting character beat so far
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watching 5 men project their repressed 7 slutty FOMO-tard onto every woman they come into contact with... is sad, infuriating and funny all at once.
#Big explanation for incel culture just dropped#“All women r whores!!!11111” is the disproportionately male 5s projecting their disintegration type onto the female populace#It is also to a lesser extent#The disproportionately male 4s projecting their disintegration type 2 (hypergamous type with an overinflated sense of worth) onto women#Projecting 2 onto women is more valid since 2 is actually the most common type in women in reality#Still you can tell there's projection of their own shadow involved from all these moids and it's not about objectivity#Toxic unenlightened 2s is still only a small percentage of women#They literally think it's all women and have to project to cope with their sad lives
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a real experience reading this convo between levin and his brother tho. levin arguing that he can't be bothered to support schools or hospitals or local governmental administration for the peasants because it wouldn't be personally beneficial to him, a noble, and then I googled when the serfs were freed and it was BARELY more than a decade before this book was published. omg????
#I have the feeling tolstoy was liberally leaning bc levin's brother IS in favor of the common good#and levin is presented as fairly foolish#but he knows the peasants on a much more personal level and works with them and they trust him and all. it's interesting#'common good' in quotes as in like general welfare of the peasant populace as defined by education and access to health care etc.#cor reads
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imagine havin me in this fandom back in 2k12
#actually dont#i thought about it#i would deffo have gotten doxxed#come through child salt in your unwaverin belief that common sense is in fact. present amongst the populace#you would have been the victim of even more hate crimes UwU#but goddamn you would have put out 30 chapter fics every month#they will have typos and grammatical errors and for more weeb energy in a common middle school#but goddamn they would have been so full of love#sorry for bein so hard on you child salt#you deserved so much better#i am tryin my best for present salt tho#results are mixed
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Maybe I'm really weird and off-putting idk
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It's starting to drive me nuts how often I'm seeing the claim that the "southern" Chantry and its relationship with magic have zero influence in the north.
The Chantry schism created the Imperial Chantry vs. the Orlesian Chantry. Imperial because it’s only a thing in the Tevinter Imperium. That’s one country in the north.
Yes, we only get to see the Mournwatch in Veilguard, but have we forgotten the College of Magi in Cumberland? The philosophical heart of the Circle of Magi? Where they used to elect the Grand Enchanters? How about the Circle of Perendale? There’s an actual wartable mission about Perendale's mages who barricaded themselves in for fear of what the general populace will do to them!
Remember Zevran mentioning the Circle in Antiva and how the templars there were watching the mages like "a jealous husband guarding the chastity of a wanton bride"? Remember Josephine's line "little but the Chantry ties Orlais, Nevarra, Ferelden, Antiva, and even Rivain to a common cause"?
You think Brother Genitivi - a Fereldan Chantry brother - would call the Anderfels a nation that produces the most devout priests if they didn’t give af about the Orlesian Chantry? The place where they carved a giant statue of Andraste into a mountain?
Rivain, sure, the Chantry’s influence there has always been minimal (though ironically, the aftermath of the Dairsmuid Circle's annulment is the only time we actually see the Chantry’s influence up north in this game). But Nevarra, Antiva and the Anderfels?!
Sorry, no, there's an entire list of known Circles of Magi readily available online. Don’t freaking try to tell me that people everywhere were letting their mages cuddle wisps and shit, and it was only Orlais, Ferelden and the Free Marches that didn’t get the memo! Of course there have always been cultural differences, but "we're in the north now" is a piss-poor excuse for Veilguard's absence of any palpable faith.
It damn well should have mattered who we put on the Sunburst Throne.
#veilguard critical#I keep getting sucked back into this shit#I'm sorry for being so unpleasant lately
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for all i love the ides of march memes, something to remember today is that a) killing Caesar wasn't about overthrowing a tyrannical dictator and b) it ultimately didn't save the republic.
a) Caesar was a well liked leader among the common people. he distributed food to the populace, land to his soldiers, and it looked to them like he protected the borders in Gaul. the average person in Rome didn't really care if they were ruled by a senate or a dictator, so long as their lives were tolerable. the senate didn't kill Caesar for the people, they did it for themselves. it was just about putting the power back in the hands of many autocrats, rather than one.
b) Caesar's assassination directly led to TWO civil wars, with Augustus, who inherited Caesar's name, money and soldiers, coming out on top becoming the first emperor. all the damage that was done by subsequent power-mad emperors was his legacy. but if Caesar had just grown old and died in his bed, the republic probably would have reformed in his wake.
in conclusion, if you're gonna violently kill a bad politician, i support you, but please keep the energy up after that and make sure society as a whole gets better, instead of just letting someone else step in to fill the vacuum and continue their shitty legacy.
or, you know, use your access to democracy, which the common Romans did not have, and vote tyrannical politicians out. then make it stick by doing something continuously to help out on the ground.
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Continuation/just ideas I have of the Mecha Pilot Jazz Au by @keferon
First part can be found here :)
A03 version -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/60978709
---
No one is really sure what to think when Jazz finally returns to the general populace, the crowded common room he steps into with Prowl at his side going silent at the mech's arrival.
No, not a mech, a frame piloted by an organic Wheeljack swore to the Pit and back was smaller than most of their servos.
"Soooo, what's up?" Jazz leaned against the closest table as Prowl got himself some energon, no longer keeping up the pretense he needed such liquid.
"That's what you have to say?" Starscream gawked from his seat, the seeker looking like he wanted to start dissecting Jazz's mecha as much as pry the pilot out. "Are all organics from your planet this...this flippant?"
"Not really?" Jazz shrugged, glad no one could see the grin on his face when Prowl rejoined him, placing himself between Jazz and everyone else in the room with a minute flick of his doorwings. "Hell, you sound like one of my commanders, he'd be having a fit right about now."
"Rightfully so, I should say." Mirage commented from behind Jazz, the pilot grinning to himself when he turned, only to see what was supposedly a blank wall. "Then again, you seem to be the type of bo - organic to cause mayhem on the regular."
"Human." Jazz could hear more than a few processors whir at the strange term, and after a moment, grabs a seat at the table next to him. "Organic sounds weird to me, so you can call me human or just my name, I'm not picky."
"Human...weird." Jazz isn't sure who spoke as his visor offlined, ensuring his mecha was supported before fully breaking the connection. The entire room went silent when Jazz's chassis made a soft click before opening, noises of alarm escaping vocalizers as they expected to see a spark, wondering what in Primus' name the org - human was thinking when something moved. What should have been a spark chamber was something else entirely, the central interior some sort of piloting seat that housed the human they'd all come to trust and fight alongside, who waved as he undid a harness. Prowl was the only thing stopping the Cybertronians around Jazz from moving any closer, his doorwings up in a sharp V when he carefully placed one of his servos just below Jazz, Mirage shimmering into view on the other side of Jazz's mecha when the human hopped onto the limb.
"Hey, fellas." Prowl kept his hold on Jazz as he stepped back from the temporarily deactivated suit, setting him on the table's surface as carefully as possible. "Aw, thanks Prowler!"
"You look strange for an organic." Thundercracker tilted his helm slightly, wanting a closer look but not stupid enough to test how close he could actually get.
"I guess?" Jazz reached up to unlatch his helmet, biting back a laugh when there were a few surprised vents at the reveal of his hair. "Back home, I'd say I'm about the best we humans can look."
"With an ego to match." Mirage cycled his optics with a smirk, eyeing his friend curiously while keeping himself between any bot stupid enough to try and sneak up on Prowl's blindside. "Your frame suits you."
"And don't I know it." Jazz winked, setting his helmet on the table by his feet. "Man, you guys are just...so much bigger in person. I mean I know you are, it's just weird ta see it with my own eyes, er optics."
"Trust me, it's weird for us too." Sideswipe commented from his spot among the crowd, amused more than anything when the inevitable questions started pouring in. To his credit, Jazz tries to answer some of them, but he steps back when Prowl draws himself to his full height and silences almost everyone when he crosses his arms, smiling to himself when the bot speaks.
"If you have any further questions, you can ask them another time, most of you are late for your assigned duty shifts, Jazz included."
"Ya wound me Prowler!" The human let out a whine at the supposed betrayal, but the grin never left his face as he turned to his mecha. "I guess I could get movin', don't want to keep Brawn too late."
"Indeed." Prowl offered his servo once more, aware of the many prying optics watching as Jazz hopped onto his palm, slipping his strange helm covering back on as he was safely delivered back to his larger frame. They watched Jazz buckle himself back into the harness within the spa - piloting chamber, the chassis closing up when something connected with the back of his helm covering, the visor on the frame they were all accustomed to lighting up with a slight hum.
"Fun time's over." Jazz waved his servo, everyone murmuring to each other while they slowly dispersed. "Man that was fun."
"You find most activities fun, dangerous or otherwise." Prowl shook his helm in exasperation as Jazz laughed, the human leaning over to gently bonk his helm against Prowl's.
"I'll see you later, gorgeous." With that Jazz sweeps out of the room, Prowl watching him go with a look that made Mirage do a double take.
"You definitely chose someone...interesting." The saboteur chuckled, saving the image of a soft smile on Prowl's face for some future use.
"So I have..."
---
Jazz had wondered what Prowl's face felt like from the moment the met, in awe at how the metal creased and smoothed out much like his own skin did. Would it be cold and stiff, or warm and pliable? Ah the thought plagued him from time to time, becoming worse when he fell for said mech.
So, when he comes across Prowl asleep (no recharge) at his desk, a data pad clutched in his clawed hands, Jazz grins. Locking the door to Prowl's office, more for the tactician's peace of mind than his own, Jazz quietly grabs the only other chair in the room and sets it down on the other side of Prowl's desk, resting one arm on top of the table. Prowl is still asleep when Jazz powers down the link with his mecha, shivering at the sensation of becoming so small before slowly unbuckling himself, setting his helmet aside before starting the (admittedly) long journey across the room. Thankfully his magnetic lock boots made his journey down the arm of his faithful mecha relatively safe, staring up at his boyfriend (boybot? Ugh no, no way in hell) with an amused smile.
"Always gonna be the smallest huh?"
Now, here comes the hard part, one that could end up getting him flung across the room or smashed into paste if he triggered the wrong response from his sleeping partner. Okay, deep breath, and with a quick crossing of his fingers, Jazz activated the magnetics in his gloves before placing them on Prowl's arm as a test run. One doorwing twitched at the initial contact, but Prowl remained still, and with a deep breath Jazz started climbing, climbing up his mech's arm nice and slow. It was a little tricky when he reached Prowl's shoulder, but with a little awkward shuffling and a twist of his upper body, Jazz was within reach of his partner's face.
Now here comes the Hard Part Two: Electric Boogaloo.
It took a few tries to unwrap the base of his glove with his teeth, heart racing when he was only attached to Prowl via his shoes and magnetized knee pads in order to free his hand, but soon he was ready to do the biggest thing he's wanted to since he first laid eyes on Prowl. His hand is shaking slightly, but that doesn't matter when it makes contact with Prowl's cheek, brain short circuiting at how...soft and warm the metal was to his touch. While it didn't exactly move with his touch, Jazz could feel the nanites that were on the outer surface of every Cybertronian react, twitching when he felt a buzzing under his finger tips. He becomes used to the buzz as he takes his time mapping out the dips and curves of Prowl's face, missing the cycling of optics before a loud chirp breaks the silence, Jazz yelping as he jerked back in surprise far enough to detach from Prowl's shoulder. He doesn't fall very far when he lands on a hand (servo dude) with a grunt, Prowl looking worried as Jazz propped himself up on one arm.
"Are you alright?"
"Yep! Next time I need ta clip a harness on you or somethin', don't want to fall again." Jazz waved with his uncovered hand, sitting cross-legged on Prowl's palm. "Saw you asleep, an' I couldn't resist."
"Resist what?" A quick look at his chronometer showed he'd not been asleep too long, optics flickering down to his partner when he felt something strange touch one of his digits.
"This might sound kinda weird, but I've wanted ta touch your face since we met." Jazz had uncovered his second hand and was touching the closest digit, a look he couldn't classify crossing Jazz's face when he gave it a squeeze. "Weird, these are warm, but not as warm as your face."
"Did you enjoy your...examination?" Something fluttered in his spark at the smile Jazz gave him, and once again gave thanks to Primus that he'd been given a chance.
"Mhm! I'd love to again some time, see those pretty lil' optics of yours." Jazz winked, watching doorwings give a full on flutter. "Glad we both agree."
"You shall be the end of me, Jazz." Embarrassment colors Prowl's words as he sits back in his chair, watching Jazz lay back on his palm, hands underneath his head as he sighs happily.
"Your hand is pretty comfy...not a sentence I ever expected to say to my boyfriend, but it is what it is."
"I suppose you shall have to make yourself comfortable then, I still have some reports to finish." Prowl clicked, grabbing the pad he'd been reading before he fell asleep.
"Gives me an excuse to nap then." Jazz moved to remove the outer layer that supported his pedes, his processor supplying the word shoe as Jazz resumed his position with a yawn. "Have fun Prowler."
"Have a pleasant recharge, Jazz."
Jazz doesn't need to know he had already completed his work before his "nap", merely settling in for a novel he'd wanted to get through as his partner slept in his grasp.
#personal#transformers#mecha pilot jazz au#tf mecha universe#jazzprowl#jazz#prowl#mirage#absolutely adore this AU#feral Prowl barely holding back to keep his human safe
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Stolen Sanguine World-Building Dump
@taptrial2 asked and ye shall receive. What follows is a mass information pit for my Vlad Cleavage AU Danny Phantom vampire AU, Stolen Sanguine. This post will just be about world-building, the storyline will be covered separately.
The time period and culture influences are deliberately vague, but it's pseudo-Victorian, pseudo-fantasy, pseudo-pre Industrial Rev with no consistent clothing styles beyond the vampires being obnoxiously slutty.
Vampires live among humans and the ones that live the longest and thrive the most are the rich and powerful, highly immoral ones. Common people who are turned and not willing to become gluttonous murderers are usually swiftly dispatched by hunters. Being turned involves intent on the part of the vampire, and venom is the agent. New vampires are not common or accidental (unless you're Danny) because in general vampires like the status quo and creating more competition for territory isn't in anyone's best interest. Vampire on vampire murders aren't common for the same reasons. Vlad, however, is an insane little freak and has killed his own kind before. To drastically paraphrase one notable instance is Aragon, who once decided he'd pick on the new guy in town by kidnapping his four year old and turning her into his vampire bride. Vlad stabbed Aragon about three dozen times, recovered Dani safe and sound, and no one has bothered them since.
Society is entering an era where the general populace at large is becoming more collectively aware of the existence of vampires and other paranormal folk and it's more difficult to work in the shadows than it used to be. Hunters are becoming more mainstream, and while vampires have always placed emphasis on securing wealth and power, it's now more critical to have those societal protections in place.
Generally speaking, vampires are almost exclusively loners and not social with each other. This is mostly because every vampire believes that other vampires are insufferable, and they are the singular delightful exception. Penelope Spectra, Vlad's neighbor and ally, is an outlier, as she is very social for a vampire and often holds parties. She herself lives with Bertrand, whom she turned some years ago.
The vampiric power system revolves around blood. By consuming human blood, vampires regularly renew their immortality and their enhanced strength and healing. Vampiric blood itself is also endowed with certain powers, as it remains tied to the soul of the vampire even after it leaves their body. There's a culture of blood jewelry given as gifts to favorite thralls as a mark of ownership.
To say vampires merely consume blood is to ignore the whole reality. It's not just the blood, it's what the blood contains, that is, the vitality or life of the individual. Every time a vampire feeds off of someone they consume a bit of that person's life and soul. It's an active parasitic relationship that brings only misery to the consumed. Animal blood will keep a vampire alive, but it won't grant them the powers they rely on and it won't fully satisfy their hunger. Danny is doing his best, but he's basically starving himself.
A human that a vampire frequently feeds on turns into a thrall. Thralls are sickly, clingy and basically brainwashed into being willing juice boxes. You don't want to become one. Some vampires will keep them in their houses because it's very convenient. Vlad has his blood supply imported, because he's got a daughter to think of.
Vampiric weaknesses include sunlight, which burns them, and the need to be invited into dwellings or suffer the loss of their powers. There are ways to circumvent both weaknesses, however, and Vlad has found ways around both during his years of experimentation. The only way to kill a vampire is to destroy their heart, so the classic wooden stake is the weapon of choice for hunters. Jack and Maddie are particularly creative with their weaponry, though.
The GIW exist here, as a sort of white-tunic wearing anti-vampire cult/organization. Their designs are pending further thought, because white robes and hoods have some unfortunate connotations I'd prefer to avoid.
Werewolves and dragons exist here, but they're mostly mentioned in passing and also because I think it would be amusing if Danielle tried to date a werewolf prince while Vlad makes semi-serious plans to turn the poor boy into a rug if the relationship goes awry.
There is a Vampire King, but he's been sealed away in eternal slumber because he's more trouble than he's worth. Vampires will go through long periods of sleep every so often if things are going poorly for them, and it usually involves a coffin and a hidden crypt. They are of course, nocturnal beings, but they don't have to sleep as much as humans and Vlad is committed to raising Danielle diurnally. This causes some problems for him, but he's extremely stubborn and refuses to let the sun get between him and his daughter.
Other vampires consider Vlad to be completely out of his mind after the unfortunate Aragon incident. It's not normal to adopt your lunch. Spectra thinks Vlad's obvious mental illness is very attractive and she likes watching him kill people.
Vlad lived in a proper spooky castle before acquiring Danielle, but after he fled Jack and Maddie he moved extremely far away and settled into a smaller but no less creepy manor outside of a small rural village. Danielle is by no means forbidden from visiting the village and Vlad encourages the townsfolk to allow their children to befriend/suck up to her on a regular basis. Sometimes this involves blatant extortion, such as the time Vlad forcibly invited (kidnapped) a select handful of children and their trembling mothers to attend Danielle's birthday party.
Vlad likes to gaslight the people living in the village outside of his manor. They're all 95% sure he's a vampire, because he certainly couldn't look or act any more like one, but Vlad vehemently denies it. Danielle is accustomed to doing the same, and in reality she is actually the most compelling evidence that Vlad ISN'T a vampire. Because what vampire has a happy, healthy, bite-wound free child in their care?
#danny phantom#stolen sanguine au#cheese melt#text#vlad masters#dani phantom#danielle phantom#danny fenton#jack fenton#maddie fenton
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question: Why is it bad that cultists are a common enemy in Dnd? Have you *met* anyone from the Catholic Church, the ILBP, the Mormon Church, etc?
I mean D&D cultists don't really lean into an understanding of cults as manipulative groups led by a charismatic leader, they lean more on a very American Evangelical understanding of cults as these secret groups within good society trying to make good people do bad things like sacrifice puppies for Satan. Comparing D&D cults to modern religious movements misses the point because D&D cults don't have anything to do with those but are based on a very culturally Christian fever dream about secret satanic groups hiding within the populace. With a dash of orientalism, since the imagery of cultists in D&D owes heavily to classic swords & sorcery fiction, which was rife with orientalist imagery.
And I'm also not saying that that's necessarily bad, because I don't think engaging with media with iffy ideas in it will automatically make people catch moral impurity, that's silly. But it's good to have an understanding of where those ideas and images come from because if one wants to personally avoid replicating those tropes and themes then it's good to be aware of all the cultural context behind them. D&D cults have very little to do with modern cults, because that's not what they're based on, so to compare them to those misses the point wildly.
(Also this relates to people's attempts to make D&D queer, because with a lot of people what they do is just turn the player characters into a wholesome queer found family but otherwise change nothing about the game, so you get the cool heroes slaughtering cultists that are ultimately based on a very American Protestant image of Satanic cults, and the dissonance is weird and a lot of people don't realize it.)
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MAY THE WIND PROTECT YOU
SYNOPSIS: kinich recalls each time he heard you speak mondstadtian, each memory making him miss you more than the last. meanwhile, you return home to mondstadt.
PAIRING: kinich x gn!reader
TAGLIST ! @aphrodict @wystiix @tragedy-of-commons @pixelcafe-network @papiliotao
contains: poorly translated german, ajaw, intense pining (on both sides), down bad kinich, last part is not edited
word count: 4.4k
notes: THIS IS A PART 2!! writing this was sm fun guys, i had a field day with each scene. i wanted to post this yesterday on his bday, but gwen told me it'd be such a power move if i posted it today bc today is MY bday, so that's what i'm doing >:) crazy that his bday is a day before mine.
i was listening to this ost the entire time i was writing the mond scenes. when the mc mentioned the lullaby, that song is what i was referring to! anyw enjoy! TY ZIRA FOR PROOFREADING!!
part one!
The first time Kinich heard you speak in Mondstadt’s native tongue was two weeks after you arrived in Natlan.
A merchant from Mondstadt had set up shop at the Stadium of the Sacred Flame. By pure chance, Kinich had been showing you around the Stadium that day.
(Somehow, it slipped his mind that you were from Mondstadt— despite the fact that you unintentionally made it abundantly clear you were a foreigner by the way you dressed and your poor attempt to speak the language of Natlan.)
As soon as you set your sights on the merchant’s wares, you were sprinting over to his stall, eagerly shouting in what sounded like an aggressive tone to the people around you. Kinich followed, worry pooling in his gut at the sudden commotion you just made.
All your worries about wanting to set a good first impression had been thrown out the window the moment you saw a familiar face. With the way you and the merchant were animatedly speaking, anyone passing by would’ve assumed you were lifelong friends. However, that was not the case.
Mondstadters were well known for being extremely welcoming and hospitable, especially within their own nation. Anyone who ever traveled there always put in a good word about their stay, claiming that although the nation’s ways of greeting foreigners was a bit odd, the entire populace had this unique charm that made everyone instantly feel at home there. Paired with the ever-flowing wind and the ideals of freedom and peace, Mondstadt seemed to be a true paradise.
The few merchants Kinich had run into in the past were fairly kind people, though there was always this edge to them that made them feel a bit aggressive. Maybe it was their way of speaking… or their blunt honesty.
Joining your side, Kinich realized you weren’t speaking the universal language of Teyvat anymore, and that now, you were speaking a language that sounded rough and throaty.
This must’ve been the language of Mondstadt. He only ever heard a few words here and there in passing through merchants he met in the past.
He couldn’t understand a word you were saying, but he liked hearing your voice in its primitive state.
The merchant made a gesture towards you, and you threw your head back in raucous laughter. Kinich wondered what you were talking about. A few moments later, he heard the words ‘Dornman Port’ fall from your lips, and he assumed that the topic shifted to where you were from.
“It’s not everyday you see a Mondstadter down here in the South! Where are you from?”
“Dornman Port!“ You answered eagerly, ”my family’s been living there for generations, but recently my grandparents moved to the city to get better access to healthcare.”
“Ah, I see. No wonder your accent sounded familiar! My family’s a bit North of Dornman, more inland towards—“
From the excited way you two were speaking, Kinich guessed based on context clues that you and this merchant were from the same hometown.
Finally, you seemed to turn your attention back to the merchant’s wares, and your eyes practically sparkled once you set your sights on his entire alcohol supply.
(You weren’t a true child of Mondstadt if you didn’t cherish your booze.)
Pointing to a vintage bottle of something that was labeled in Mondstadt’s native tongue, you fished some mora out of your satchel.
“I haven’t seen many Mondstadters down here,” you said, resuming your earlier conversation, “not that we can’t travel to other nations, I just mean—“
“It’s strange?” The merchant finished your sentence. “I get that a lot from the locals. Usually, Fontainians visit Natlan the most, though I suppose that’s not too surprising. The hot springs are great!”
“Speaking of Fontaine, I was suspected of being Fontainian my first year here. The looks on the locals’ faces after hearing I’m from the Crown of the North were priceless!”
You took the bottle of Dandelion Wine and smiled. “I bet! I got questioned a bit too on my arrival a few weeks back.”
He eyed the journal in your hands. “Akademiya student?”
“Yes, sir! Vahumana Darshan!” You nodded. “I’ll be here in Natlan for six months to work on my thesis.”
Glancing at Kinich, you suddenly felt a pang of guilt rush through you. Unintentionally, you had been making him wait this whole time. You quickly wrapped up your conversation with the merchant, explaining that Kinich was your ‘tour guide’ and you had to leave.
“Good luck with your studies!” The merchant shook your hand, his grip firm. It reminded you of your father’s handshakes. “Let the Wind lead, youngster.”
“Danke! May the Anemo Archon bless you! Tschüss!”
The second time Kinich heard you speak in Mondstadt’s native tongue was when a yumkasaur had stolen your journal and decided not to give it back.
(He didn’t think he’d ever heard someone curse so much in his life— aside from Ajaw.)
Although he couldn’t understand what you were saying, he just knew you were cursing that yumkasaur to the high heavens. And as soon as he helped you get your journal back, you cursed the yumkasaur out again as it hissed at you and flew away.
It took a heavy amount of restraint for Kinich not to burst out laughing. You could’ve sworn a small snort had escaped from his lips as he raised a hand to cover his mouth, but that was the least of your priorities.
Your main focus was on the big chunk taken out of your journal.
A few pages of your journal were missing, meaning you had to rewrite three pages (front and back) of all the research you found in some Dahri ruins nearby the Scions of the Canopy.
To say you had been angry was an understatement. You hadn’t stopped rambling in Mondstadtian for the rest of the week, and Kinich was more than a little worried you were going to throw yourself off the balcony outside your villa.
(You didn’t, but other people from his tribe did say you spent the remainder of the week in those ruins — which, to be frank, was concerning considering you always outright refused to go exploring during the day.
When he found you, you were mumbling to yourself and teetering on the edge of becoming someone’s sleep paralysis demon. Long story short, he had to drag you back to your villa.)
Needless to say, that was a fond memory of his, despite your imminent despair that entire week.
It had been five months since you returned to Sumeru. Five grueling months of convincing himself he didn’t miss you as much as he truly did.
There was a significant decline in his mood since then.
Ever since he walked you to the borders between the Children of Echoes’ settlement and the Sumeru desert— where an escort from the Eremites was waiting (he remembered you addressing her as ‘Dehya’) —he’d been all down in the dumps.
At first, Ajaw had a field day teasing him, until eventually, the mini pixelated dragon got tired of his sour attitude and stopped mentioning you altogether.
One mention of you and Kinich became snappy and pissy. If he saw something that reminded him of you, he began sulking like a kicked puppy. It was amusing to Ajaw… at first. But as time dragged on, it just made him more and more annoyed.
(“Are they all you think about!?” Ajaw screamed once after Kinich bought a bottle of Dandelion Wine from that merchant you would always talk to.
Kinich didn’t answer, but the pout on his lips was enough to make it clear to anyone that yes… you were all he thought about.)
He found himself back at the same merchant’s stall, immediately putting Ajaw in timeout before he could even utter a word.
The Mondstadt merchant greeted Kinich with a firm, friendly handshake. “Welcome back! Did you enjoy the Dandelion Wine?”
Kinich nodded curtly. “Yes. It was quite good. My tribe enjoyed it, as well.” He paused. “Where was it made?”
The merchant’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. He probably wasn’t expecting that question. He stroked his chin. “Well, you’ve probably heard of it if you’re a wine lover, but most alcoholic beverages from Mondstadt are brewed by the famous Dawn Winery.”
Kinich had heard of it, though only in passing from merchants.
“The Dawn Winery’s the reason Mondstadt’s even known as the wine capital of Teyvat. Without the winery, Master Diluc, Mondstadt’s fertile soil, and the wine brewing methods taught to us by Lord Barbatos, we wouldn’t be where we are today.”
“The Anemo Archon taught you how to brew wine?” Kinich raised a brow.
The merchant nodded. “Why, of course! Back when the people of Mondstadt migrated to Cider Lake, Lord Barbatos taught our ancestors the intricacies of wine making, and over time, his original technique had been refined into what it is today!”
Interesting. So that was how Mondstadt’s wine business began.
“We even have wine festivals to honor Lord Barbatos,” the merchant continued, piquing Kinich’s curiosity, “Weinlesefest is the most common. Every harvest, families come together to brew wine and offer it up to Lord Barbatos as a sort of ‘welcome home’ gift for the western wind. If he’s satisfied with the wine, he blesses us with a refreshing breeze.”
Weinlesefest. He heard you talk about it once in passing with a different merchant. He couldn’t understand what you were saying, as you had been speaking Mondstadtian, but he knew it had to do with a festival; seeing as it was one of the first things the merchant had brought up in conversation.
“I see.” Kinich nodded curtly, making a mental note to ask you about the Weinlesefest in his next letter. “So… does the whole nation celebrate?”
The merchant nodded. “Yep! It’s a time of gathering together with family and friends. Mondstadters living away from home usually come back for Weinlesefest.” He let out a heavy sigh. “In fact, it’s happening right now. But work is work, so I can’t visit my wife and kids. I can only hope Lord Barbatos will keep them safe in my absence.”
Kinich was slowly learning how Mondstadt worked the more and more he talked with Mondstadters. He sent a small smile to the merchant and bought three bottles of wine this time, even going as far as to pay extra.
“I hope you can return home soon and see your family.” A small pang of something bitter settled in his chest.
Family.
“Tschüss.” He muttered, the word feeling odd and unusual on his tongue.
The merchant’s face lit up with pure, unbridled joy. He shook Kinich’s hand once more, firmer and more enthusiastically than the other times. It was obvious Kinich had just made this man’s day, even if it was something so simple as saying ‘goodbye’ in his language.
“Tschüss!”
That night, he sat on his bed, writing out another letter. He occasionally glanced at the last one you had sent him, his fingers gently tracing your elegant handwriting.
(Name),
I visited the Stadium today to receive a commission. The merchant you always talk to, Klaus?? was there again. He told me the history behind wine making in Mondstadt.
It’s interesting that your Archon taught you that. He also mentioned that Weinlesefest is happening right now. I remember you mentioning that festival a few times before. Did you go home for the festival? What does your family do to celebrate? Speaking of… how is your family? And your grandparents?
Everything is going well in the Scions of the Canopy. We’re recovering from the losses of the war, along with the nation as a whole, but there is still a large scar. The toll will be great for a while, but all we can do is move forward and honor the fallen.
You don’t need to worry about us, by the way. Mavuika is strong. Speaking of Mavuika, she’ll be heading off for the final fight in a few weeks’ time. Everyone’s antsy, but we know she’ll pull through. She isn’t the Archon for nothing.
-Kinich
P.S. - Mualani insisted on taking you to visit the People of the Springs the next time you’re here… but knowing you, I don’t think you’ll like the hot springs :P
P.P.S. U BETER RETURN IN 1 PEACE LOWKY HOOMAN OR I W1LL KILL U >:( -AJAW
The day your vacation was confirmed, you jumped for joy right in the middle of the House of Daena. It earned you a halfhearted glare from Alhaitham, the Akademiya’s scribe, but you didn’t care in the slightest. You were just happy you finally got your much needed vacation.
You weren’t close with the scribe. Your relationship was far from anything like that, but you saw him enough on a daily basis to consider him an acquaintance. He often occupied a table in the House of Daena, either reading a book or writing furiously in a notebook.
There were a few times you visited his office to drop off parts of your thesis for peer review, though he was never there when you did. His office hours were listed right next to the door in bold letters, yet he was never present for them. It made you raise a brow and wonder how he was even still employed if he never even showed up for his required office hours.
Though, he did give you the proper feedback you needed for your thesis, so you couldn’t really complain.
“I didn’t know you oversaw vacation notices,” you said, glancing up at your senior as he stood next to you. “I thought your only job was to record things for the Akademiya. Oh! That reminds me, when is my thesis presentation?”
He sighed. “Being the scribe is more complicated than that. And yes, all proposals for vacations go straight to my office from the drop box.”
You hummed. “So like, how does that work? Do you just check a box that says ‘yes’ or ‘no’?”
“If the proposal was sent in during a break period, then it gets approved. Any proposals sent in after the break period are denied. The presentation for your thesis is scheduled for three months from now in the Vahumana Lecture Hall at two o’clock sharp. The Dendro Archon will be present alongside the Vahumana Sage and the Grand Sage. Be prepared to answer any and all questions from all of them.”
“Yeah yeah yeah,” you waved him off dismissively, “I already received that info in my mailbox.”
Three months from now… Did you have anything planned for that day? You thought it over.
“Shit.” You muttered.
“Something wrong?” Alhaitham questioned, his arms crossing over his chest.
“My hometown has its annual food festival that week… Ah, well, there’s always next year.” It still stung, though. It would be the first time you missed it. “Besides, I’ll be home for Weinlesefest, so that should be enough.”
Your parents would be upset, but they’d understand. Your thesis was a big deal, after all. As long as you were home for Weinlesefest, you knew they wouldn’t mind you missing out on Dornman Port’s annual food fest.
You stood up and grabbed your bag. “Well, I should pack. And mail my letter before I leave.”
“I’ll be stopping off at Port Ormos later. I can mail it for you.” Alhaitham offered.
Although he didn’t show it, Alhaitham was kind. This was something you had to learn the hard way after a few misunderstandings. He had his own way of showing kindness, and it was often through his actions rather than his words.
“Really? That’d be awesome! I have so much to do before I leave, I was beginning to think I wouldn’t be able to make it to the mailing office.” You dug through your bag and pulled out a letter, handing it to him.
His eyes scanned the envelope, his brow raising slightly in surprise. He shot you a knowing look, but he didn’t pry.
“Thanks, Scribe!”
“Alhaitham.” He corrected, nodding curtly before taking his leave.
You smiled as you watched him go. Friendship with the scribe: secured!
The boat ride home to Dornman Port was long and grueling, but the crew was friendly and had a good sense of humor. You found yourself making a few new friends in unexpected places.
The soft breeze of eternal Spring shifted to a biting chill in the air as the boat neared your beloved hometown. The wind whipped violently, howling like the infamous Wolf King of Wolvendom.
Up North, the winds were harsher and colder. There was a legend in your hometown— that a god ruling over this section of land during the Archon War had died with many regrets, and therefore, cursed the land with a wintry wind that would never cease.
Whether or not that had been true was a mystery. The god’s name was long forgotten from Mondstadt, and so too was their legacy. The only person who could possibly provide evidence to those events would be the Anemo Archon himself.
The boat docked and the sailors let out heavy sighs of relief. One clapped you on the back cheerfully.
“How’s it feel to be home?” He questioned, a big smile on his face as he kicked a wooden plank onto the docks.
You smiled, inhaling the cold air you missed oh so much. The same air that you had been longing to feel on your skin for months.
“Good… great, actually!” you answered, thanking him as he helped you off the boat.
You looked around, taking in the sight of the familiar bustling port with navy rooftops and tightly packed houses. Lanterns were strung between lampposts, ornate garland hung from the sides of houses and wrapped around streetlights. Market stalls occupied every corner, accompanied by the occasional yell of a merchant trying to sell their wares.
Dandelions were blown up into the air as children roamed the streets, waving around wooden swords and weaving between adults’ legs. A stray dog followed behind the group, barking happily.
The sweet tune of a lyre and a flute rang in your ears from a distance, and you quickly realized it was that same familiar Dornman lullaby that all Mondstadtians knew by heart— specifically those of you born in the far North. The song was soothing and nostalgic to your ears, opening the floodgates to a whole range of memories from your childhood.
You inhaled the biting air again, this time with your eyes closed. “Yeah… it’s more than great to be home.”
The sailors bid you farewell, claiming they’d see you again once you returned to Sumeru. Enthusiastically giving them your goodbyes, you watched as they loaded trade goods onto their ship before taking your leave.
Dornman was exactly how you left it: serene yet lively.
You stopped to chat with a few of the elders, greeting them excitedly. They asked about your studies, how your thesis was coming along, and wished you luck in your future endeavors.
Passing by a group of kids you swore were only a few apples tall the last time you saw them, they called out to you and asked if you brought any souvenirs back for them. Showing them your empty hands, they began to pout and call you old as you playfully threatened to kick their asses.
They ran away giggling, pretending to scream at the ‘scary monster they provoked.’
Shaking your head with a smile, you continued on your walk home, greeting other familiar faces as you did so.
Tucked away behind a few hills and farther from the main streets of the port, was your parents’ house. Seeing the same, old rickety wooden gate still standing tall was a surprise. You could’ve sworn that thing had fallen by now, but it was still here, on its last leg.
The eager barking of two dogs could be heard as you unlocked the gate and walked up the stone path. Spotting the beds of flowers outside the windows, you smiled. It seemed as though your father had been participating in his yearly flower competition again with the old ladies that lived just down the road.
You leaned down to take in the smell of the fresh cecilias, your favorite.
The old door of your home hadn’t changed, and the decorative basket of flowers hanging from the front hadn’t either. You picked up the handle of the dove doorknocker and waited, listening as the sounds of barking got louder and louder.
A series of locks clicked before the door swung open and two black and brown dogs came tumbling out, knocking you onto the stone path. You laughed as they licked your face, excited for your return.
“Millie! Hashbrown!” You hugged each of them, placing kisses on their heads before you stood back up.
Your father embraced you, hugging you tightly. You returned the hug, smiling as you pulled away. He took your bags from you and ushered you inside, claiming your mother had baked a few pies to celebrate your return home.
The rest of the afternoon was spent catching up with your family, telling them all about your studies in the Akademiya and your long trip in Natlan. You told them about Kinich, a man from the Scions of the Canopy.
That’s when your mother sent you a knowing look. Nothing ever escaped her know, especially when it had to do with crushes. You assumed it was because of that rumored sixth sense that all mothers possessed. Or maybe the smile on your face as you talked about Kinich was just too obvious.
You told them how you and Kinich wrote letters to each other as much as you could, though it was getting harder for you to keep that up when exams had rolled around.
“Speaking of mail,” your father interrupted, standing up, “we received a letter a few hours ago from a ‘Kinich.’”
He handed you the envelope and you snatched it from his hands, ignoring the way he snickered at you as you did so. He took another sip of his beer and sighed.
“Oh, and there was a package too!” He rummaged around on the kitchen table before handing you a tightly wrapped package.
Confused, you took it. You had no idea what could even be inside it, but assuming it had arrived at the same time as Kinich’s letter, you guessed it was from him. Your mother stood up.
“Let’s give them some privacy, dear.” She patted your father’s chest and ushered your siblings out of the room before sending you a wink.
You rolled your eyes and opened the envelope, smiling absentmindedly at Kinich’s somewhat messy handwriting and the complete scribbles at the bottom of the page that were nearly indecipherable. Judging by the chicken scratch, you deduced the last message had been from Ajaw.
You ripped open the package and set aside the note. Inside was a handmade blanket with a small note that claimed it was made by the Flower Feather Clan.
You admired the swirling designs and hugged it to your chest. So he had remembered how much you loved blankets. Receiving such a high quality gift meant the world to you, as did the thought of him going to such lengths to have it handmade just for you.
Digging through to the bottom of the box, you found a neatly wrapped vintage bottle of Dandelion Wine, silently cheering. You’d enjoy this with your family during the rest of the festival.
One last item sat at the bottom, so small you almost overlooked it. Pulling it out, you slipped it out of the velvet bag it was in and your jaw dropped. A gold necklace with purple and blue crystals fell into your palm, cold to the touch.
Based on the fine craftsmanship, you could tell it had been crafted by a blacksmith from the Children of Echoes, and the crystals had been from the Masters of the Night Wind.
Kinich really didn’t have to get you all this. Was there some sort of special occasion, or had he just wanted to send you gifts? You weren’t sure, but you were already thinking of some Mondstadt specialties you could send him in return.
Heading up to your bedroom, you placed the gifts on your bed and grabbed a piece of paper from your desk. You sat down near the windowsill and unclasped the latch, pushing your window open. A cold breeze wafted inside, the scent of dandelions invading your room. The wind chimes hanging from your window sang in the wind, their sound comforting to your ears.
You began to write.
Dear Kinich,
Thank you for all your thoughtful gifts!! Based on the fact you mentioned Klaus in your letter, I’m guessing you bought the Dandelion Wine off him, didn’t you?
Pass on my regards to him! Möge der Wind dich beschützen!
Weinlesefest has officially kicked off! Unfortunately, I missed the opening ceremony in the city, but tomorrow we’ll be opening the wines in my hometown! At least I haven’t missed that! The opening of the wines is the most important part of Weinlesefest, as it honors Lord Barbatos.
My family is doing great as ever! Same old, same old, honestly. I’ll be seeing my grandparents in a few days, as my family will be taking a trip to the city to celebrate the festival with them! Unfortunately, I have to go back to the Akademiya in a week to continue my studies and refine my thesis per the Scribe’s suggestions. I wish I could be home longer, but school is school :(
I’m glad to hear everything has blown over somewhat smoothly and all of you are safe. I can’t imagine everything you’ve had to witness, but I’ll offer up prayers of my own for the fallen (is that okay? That isn’t insensitive right…? Please tell me if it is).
I hope the healing and rebuilding is going smoothly. If I was there, I would help in a heartbeat. Oh! I have an architect acquaintance in Sumeru! Maybe he and his team could help…? Say the word, and I’ll request his help!
NO, I think I would melt into a puddle if I ever even stepped FOOT into those hot springs… Sorry Mualani, but I’m good… I’d rather stay in the brisk trees of the Scions of the Canopy.
Thank you once again for the gifts. I’ll cherish them.
Mögen die Feuer von Natlan immer brennen.
Sincerely,
(Name)
P.S. I’ll return back safely to you, Ajaw. Don’t worry! :)
notes: including all the german words were sm fun to do bc i'm german (not too familiar with the language but i'm in the process of learning!) and i am a firm believer that teyvat has their own languages, and dialects within those languages. some translations: danke = thank you, tschüss = goodbye, Möge der Wind dich beschützen = may the wind protect you, Mögen die Feuer von Natlan immer brennen = may the fires of natlan stay ever burning
© 2024 mikashisus. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.
#—stellaronhvnters.#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#kinich#kinich genshin#kinich x reader#genshin kinich x reader#kinich genshin impact#genshin#kinich x you#kinich x y/n#genshin x you#genshin x y/n#genshin impact x you#genshin impact x y/n
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