#which could have been only performed by someone favoured by the gods

[sharper-than-a-serpents-tooth]

making Jennette a being born from magic was presumably done so that she had no claim to the throne at all, but Aeternitas being involved in the process of her creation and using his own mana to breathe life into her would make him her father in the broad sense of the word and this would put her in the line of succession before Athy, Claude and even Anastacius.

And if Obelia considers beings of magic real and deserving of rights, which old Obelia must have because making an attempt on a divine beast, was an attempt on the life of the royal owning them as it had direct affects on the owners health when it was harmed, it is possible that Jennette might have been viewed as a part of Aeternitas. Her claim equal to his because he split his mana with her. We might even be having a ship of theseus dilemma where Jennette is more Aeternitas and Anastacius than they are because the repeated resurrections changed their essence fundamentally, and even though born tainted her, she is purer than them, because she led a righteous life.

Over and above that royals used a religious doctrine of political legitimacy, which entails the belief that certain people are either descended from gods or chosen by gods to rule. Jennette's creation by someone whose family claims to be descended from the gods would parallel the creation of humankind by god itself. Obelia calling into question her legitimacy and denying her right to exist, could be considered blasphemy against the gods and a condemnation of their own race.

[nicxl333]

hello

Could you write about bllk boy accidentally hurting their s/o badly.

It's okay if you're too busy. No pressure

BABY YOU SOLD ME A DREAM

characters: isagi yoichi, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, barou shouei, itoshi rin

content: major angst, reader is female coded (wears a dress, heels and makeup), mentions of smut in barou’s part but nothing actually happens (lol), vulgar language

☆彡 ISAGI YOICHI

“you think you know better than me? do me a favour and go find someone else who has the time to put up with your bullshit. ‘cause it won’t be me.”

you lay in your cold, desolate bed for the umpteenth time this week alone, which, considering it was only wednesday showed just how often isagi trained past late hours. as much as you understood his passion to climb to the top, it was simply neglect at this point. to you and to himself. you woke up, he was gone. you went to sleep, he wasn’t beside you.

of course, things were never like this in the beginning. he used to be around, take you out, nurture you and show you devoted love for you each and every time.

until he wasn’t.

once his team reached the quarterfinals of the champions league a while back, he changed. 2 hour training sessions in the evening turned into 4, and the time he spent with you halved as a result. it made you feel lonely and simply put, abandoned.

your texts querying his location and when he was coming home lay unanswered and unopened, probably within the confinement of his phone which lay in his bag during training. so you went to bed alone like you always did, missing what your relationship used to be.

as you stared at the pristine, bare white ceiling you heard a key in the lock of the front door. a few moments passed and the door pushed open, pads of feet resounding in the apartment.

you decided to go meet him in the living room, wanting to know if he’s at least okay.

as you entered the room, you were met with his figure, donned in black sweatpants paired with a black compression shirt. his normal post-training gear. the same gear that never failed to make you melt each and every time. he glanced at you in your nightwear and weary expression, due to him returning back so late.

“hey ‘ichi, how was training?”

“alright.”

you immediately frowned. outside the pitch he was never so curt and void of language. especially with you.

you ventured closer towards him, trying to debunk his guarded persona.

“are you sure? did anything happen to you?” you stepped closer still, till you were right in front of him, immediately noticing his dark circles, even in the dim lighting of the living room from the hallway light. you attempted to give him a hug, shrinking back in disappointment once he shrugged you off.

“i said it was alright. i’m fine, just go back to bed, i’ll join in a bit.”

bullshit. you knew full and well he would just retire to the sofa, watching playbacks of his games to further evaluate his performance. even when he wasn’t working physically he would somehow manage to work himself further mentally.

“yoichi. what’s wrong baby?”

“y/n, i won’t repeat myself again. go to bed.”

you stood there in disbelief. as far as you were concerned, you hadn’t done anything wrong, so it’s quite unbelievable that he would take whatever happened today out on you.

“isagi,” you made sure to use his last name to make aware you weren’t fucking around. “come correct with me please. i haven’t done anything to you and i’m concerned for your well-being. you’ve been going to sleep late, training until ungodly hours. this isn’t good for you and i’m now on the receiving end of your misery, god knows why.”

the tone in the room shifted, isagi, now displaying a scowl across his features at your rebuttal. yes, he was well aware he was maltreating himself, but to have you acknowledge his moment of weakness gave him an displeasing itch of anger that no one could scratch, not even you.

before he could think, the next words that flew out of his mouth changed the status of your relationship, whether he meant to or not.

“you think you know better than me? do me a favour and go find someone else who has the time to put up with your bullshit. ‘cause it won’t be me.”

you instantaneously drew back, his words punching you in the gut and twisting your insides. your heart leapt and fell, never expecting those words, out of isagi’s mouth of all people.

it was deathly silent for a moment, both parties having a staring match. you fought back tears, trying so damn hard to not allow him to see how his words affected you. alas, your emotions got the best of you.

you lightly sniffled, before balling your hands into fists. “you know what yoichi? fuck you, i’m done.”

you turned on your heel and made a beeline towards your shared bedroom, grabbing your biggest duffel and shoving clothes into them, not minding what it was that you picked up. only once isagi was the only individual in the living room did he snap out of his state, realising the weight of his words. he listened to the loud shuffling, registering that he may have just fucked his relationship over for good.

he swiftly followed you, watching you in a frenzy, having just changed into an outfit suitable enough for outside. it was then that he grasped you were serious, and slipped into full panic mode.

“y/n! y/n please baby, i didn’t mean any of that! don’t leave me.” he reached for your arm, falling apart, the same way you did moments before, when you pulled away from his touch. you knew if you succumbed to his pleas you might— might just stay. but you couldn’t. his words resonated within you and made you accept that fact that you needed space at the most, before your relationship delved into something irreparable.

you stood, duffel bag slung on your shoulder, tears running down each cheek, until they conjoined at your chin.

“isagi, i can’t. not right now. not when emotions are running this high. i need space. we should probably talk when we’re both calmed down. i’ll be at meguru’s house so you don’t need to worry about where i am.”

he respected your wishes, he had no choice. if he wanted this relationship to survive he had to.

so he let you go.

☆彡 MIKAGE REO

“you’re very much subpar, do you think i need to keep you around? my name alone will help find me someone better than you.”

one thing about mikage reo that really ticked you off was his obsession over his best friend, nagi. simply put,

he was always there.

when you were chilling together, when you went out, even after date nights he would come to your shared condo, playing video games with your boyfriend until who knows what time in the morning. it always felt like you had to share and fight for reo’s attention, which was pretty much a losing battle considering reo gave nagi as much of his attention to nagi as he did.

you did your best to not voice your concerns to him, withholding your true feelings, that you did. but sometimes there’s just moments where you can’t help but snap.

and that moment came at your first year anniversary dinner with reo. hell, you should’ve called it your first year anniversary dinner with yourself, considering the fucker didn’t even show up.

you had dolled yourself up so nicely, a sexy silk black dress (purchased with your own money, you didn’t like to depend on reo too much) with matching heels. your makeup was done flawlessly and not a hair out of place.

you sat at an expensive table at an expensive restaurant, sipping over-expensive wine while you waited for him to show up. you hadn’t seen him since this morning, due to him training all day today, but you had planned this dinner with him together a month ago, reservations and all, with reminders here and there about the upcoming date.

you had waited for about an hour, taking into consideration that there could be traffic, although you hadn’t experienced any on the way here, thus giving him the benefit of the doubt.

however, when no signs showed of him arriving you turned to a waiter and excused yourself, paying the bill and walking out to collect your car from the valet.

once it was brought to you and you were seated, ready to drive off, the first thing you did was call reo via the bluetooth feature, beyond pissed off.

after a few rings he picked up, the sounds of video game gunfire audible in the background.

“y/n? what’s up? where are you?”

you scoffed incredulously, ignoring the city lights whizzing past you as you drove on the highway.

“what’s up? where am i? reo, do you know what day it is today?”

“no, why?”

you gripped the leather of your steering wheel, your frustration hitting a boiling point. “you cannot be serious. does our one year anniversary ring any bells, huh? the fact that i’ve reminded you, time and time again? you stood me up reo! what could you have possibly been doing that was more important than remembering a big milestone in our relationship?!”

he didn’t even have to answer for you, because the answer came in the form of a “reo, why did you stop? our team just lost.”

nagi seishiro.

if you weren’t angry before, you were absolutely livid now.

“reo, so you mean to tell me that spending time with your friend was more important than remembering your one year anniversary with your girlfriend? do i mean nothing to you?”

“y/n it’s not that deep, we can just reschedule for tomorrow or something.” you could hear his exasperation through the phone. the audacity of him, considering he was completely at fault here.

“not that deep? not that deep?! you let me sit there for over an hour in an upscale restaurant by myself and didn’t even think to worry about where i was! why is it not getting through to you that you missed our anniversary to play games? you see nagi everyday, whether it’s at training or at home. you mean to tell me that you couldn’t bear to not see him for one singular day out of the week?”

there were probably a ton of possibilities and explanations for why he said what he said next, but if you had to choose, it would probably be the fact that nagi could most likely hear the argument over the phone, which lead reo to attempt to regain control over the situation, by any means possible, to not appear weak.

“you’re very much subpar, do you think i need to keep you around? my name alone will help find me someone better than you.”

oh. you see how it is.

his words stunned you into silence, knocking the wind out of you. the only sounds that could be heard was the continuous tapping from reo’s controller and the low hum of your engine as you drove.

“look y/n i’m busy now, so we can talk later when you’re ho-”

you didn’t wanna hear what else he had to say, hanging up the call via the steering wheel and letting out a deep breath you didn’t realise you were holding.

without fail you indicated to turn off the highway, making your way to the nearest hotel. nevermind the fact that you didn’t have any clothes, you simply couldn’t handle seeing reo after the way he just wounded you.

once at the hotel and settled in your room you lay swaddled in the crisp white blankets. without any external eyes being able to see your state you let all walls crumble, tears cascading down in waves as you let all the previous bottled emotions fly free.

unbeknownst to you, your phone lay on the side table, softly vibrating whilst the screen lit up to show a picture of you and reo at a theme park, a call coming though from him.

it lay unanswered.

☆彡 NAGI SEISHIRO

“being in a relationship is a hassle already, i shouldn’t have to deal with you bitching and whining on top of that.”

you awoke to the sounds of rapid gunfire emanating from the living room, sighing to yourself. once again, nagi was devoting himself to a night of endless gaming.

it was a never-ending cycle. when he wasn't gaming, he was training and vice versa. as much as you loved and embraced the fact that nagi was lazy, he could at least make some effort to give you attention every once in a while.

rubbing the sleep away from your eyes you trudged your way through the apartment wearily, before being met with his figure, hunched on the sofa, eyes glued to the screen in front of him.

"sei, when are you coming to bed? i miss you."

"in a bit y/n."

"sei baby you said that last night, and i came back to you passed out on the sofa. the bluelight isn't good for you, especially so late."

he barely was around as it is, but when he was, he either slept, or was parked on the sofa.

it made you feel unappreciated, and majorly unloved. he never made the effort to take you out, tell you that you ever looked pretty or even acknowledge you anymore. to you at this point he was practically a roommate with a shoddy title that really shouldn't apply to the both of you.

"y/n, just leave me alone for now. i'm too tired to get into it with you."

"so you're too tired to argue with me being concerned for your wellbeing, but not too tired to invest your time into games, which ultimately drains your thought processes more? really sei?"

he was still focusing on the tv instead of your words, which ticked you off. so, determined to get his full attention, for once, you walked towards the tv and stood directly in front of it, blocking his vision, arms crossed and frowning.

"what the hell y/n? you made me lose."

"seishiro, can you stop being an ass for just a second and focus on me and what i have to say?”

faced with no way out, he had to oblige, placing the controller down with a heavy sigh, letting you know he was agitated. you couldn’t give a flying fuck though. you’d had enough of being neglected by nagi, and weren’t going to let him off this time.

“you don’t spend time with me anymore. you never take me out, we don’t ever talk to each other anymore. is it so bad for me to want to spend time with my boyfriend? is a game really more important than me? or is being with me detrimental to you in some way?”

he rolled his eyes, sinking back into the soft material of the sofa, irises piercing into yours. you shrunk back at his change in demeanour.

“being in a relationship is a hassle already, i shouldn’t have to deal with you bitching and whining on top of that.”

huh?

“nagi, where is this coming from? what do you mean being in a relationship is a hassl- i’m a hassle?”

he shrugged while rising to his feet, placing a hand behind his head and massaging his neck.

“i said what i said didn’t i? look, i’m going to bed, happy now? i don’t wanna argue with you, you’re too loud when you’re angry.”

you stood in shock, registering his words fully before swallowing and deeply inhaling.

“forget it nagi, i’m leaving. lose my number.”

“leaving to go where?” he watched as you briskly walked to the bedroom, following you in as you changed, grabbing your phone and keys.

“that’s none of your concern anymore. i’m breaking up with you.”

he said nothing as you walked to the front door, leaving with a final slam.

he should’ve stopped you, he really should’ve, for he would come to realise soon enough that allowing you to go,

would be one of the worst decisions he ever made.

☆彡 BAROU SHOUEI

“oi, i didn’t get into a relationship with you just so you can make my life harder. fix up or leave.”

when you asked barou out, you knew damn well what you were signing up for. considering he was so headstrong, particularly when it came to football, there would be moments where he might be nonchalant or absent.

what you didn’t anticipate, would be just how bad he would get.

once his mind was focused on football, specifically climbing his way to the top, there were no distractions, especially from his girlfriend, who at times he deemed his biggest distraction.

you did try to help and aid him every way you could, cooking him meals to eat after late night practices, tending to his injuries he may obtain after over-intensive sessions, cleaning up the apartment flawlessly so he wouldn’t be tempted to do it himself. all you really wanted in return was love.

surely that wasn’t too much to ask for, right?

wrong.

even after 7 months of dating, public outings with attempts to hold his hand resulted in subtle swatting away, instead opting to walk side by side. laying in bed together? don’t expect any cuddles from him. quite laughable actually that you’d ever think he’d be willing to do that. don’t think movie nights will be any different either. you’d better be keeping your hands to yourself.

fucking was a rarity, only really when he was very much pent up with frustration from football, libido overflowing from lack of release. and even then, while you were able to cum, that’s pretty much all there was to it. no making love or anything like that. he wouldn’t display his emotions to you enough in the first place for that to ever happen.

when you asked barou out, you knew damn well what you were signing up for. but you didn’t know it would be this hard. you figured he would loosen up eventually, getting used to at least some form of affection towards you. a little peck on the lips, or a hug from behind every once in a while would be nice.

one day, you simply grew tired. you were sitting on the dining table with him, having just finished dinner. barou stood up, ready to leave the table to shower.

“shouei.”

he stopped in his tracks, pivoting on one heel to turn and face you. his face remained blank, save for his usual signature eyebrow, arched in waiting.

“hm?”

“i-” you suddenly grew self conscious, afraid to voice your concerns to him. if you wanted things to change however, this conversation had to happen sooner rather than later.

“can we do more stuff together?”

his face now contorted into utter confusion, genuinely puzzled by what you were trying to say.

“what do you mean? i do enough with you do i not?”

“no, not that that sho’, i mean more couples stuff. like…couldn’t you just be more affectionate? i just— i don’t know how you feel about me at certain points, you don’t tell me anything as it is.”

he looked at you, playing with your hands, trying to look anywhere but him, clearly uncomfortable about this conversation.

“cmon y/n, you know how it goes already, i’m not into shit like that. i may like you and all, but all that lovey-dovey stuff? that ain’t me. never has and never will be. surely you should understand how i feel about you? the fact that i’ve kept you around this long should say more than enough.”

damn. fucking cold. either way, you weren’t backing down. you stood there, holding a firm staring competition with him before opening your mouth to speak.

“shouei, it’s been 7 months and news flash! it doesn’t. when you do shit like this, it makes me feel fucking inadequate. like i’m not deserving of you. long story short, you make me feel like shit. i’m tired of it sho’.”

“y/n, regardless of how you feel, i told you how i feel, and that ain’t gonna change.”

you couldn’t accept what he was telling you, believing that what you were saying weren’t getting through to his thick skull. his stance was too relaxed for your liking, arms simply crossed over the other, looking slightly bored.

“you’re not getting it shouei!” you raised your voice slightly, not quite shouting, but about two thirds of the way there. “you’re not understan-”

“oi, i didn’t get into a relationship with you just so you can make my life harder. fix up or leave.”

you halted, making sure you heard him correctly. to hear that he basically wouldn’t fight for 7 months worth of memories and time with each other left you in denial that it would be so easy for him to let go.

“excuse me?”

“did i stutter? fix up, or leave. two choices, one answer. it’s up to you but whatever you pick is your business.”

he gave you an out, an out from what you were currently going through. and as much as you did love and care for barou, you’d be a fool not to take it. things would only get worse.

you chose the latter, opting to leave, considering how little value your relationship held to barou. weeks passed, and the items you once held in the apartment decreased, leaving a half completed house, just like your heart.

he continued as normal at first, trying to get used to the newfound ‘freedom’. but as days passed on, the emptiness of the household became more apparent. the meals you used to cook were no more, barou having to take on the tasks himself. his injuries were taken care of in a subpar manner. while he could do it adequately, they weren’t bandaged or plastered as well as you used to do it. yes he would clean, but having it done already when he came back from training and to his standard…made him start to realise just how much you really did for him.

and maybe— maybe you weren’t so bad to have around. you did give him a sense of comfort that he could not achieve on his own, filling him on things that happened during your day gave him a sense of normalcy which alternately gave him that balance from his meticulous life as a quickly rising footballer.

he missed you, he missed what you had,

it’s a pity he realised only when it was too late.

☆彡 ITOSHI RIN

“honestly i don’t understand why i got with you in the first place. you’re so lukewarm it hurts.”

you were both busy. you both knew and understood that. rin was constantly abroad on travels for football and you had your own stuff going on at work, often leaving the office late at night.

when your schedules would occasionally match up and you’d both be home, most of the time it would still be you alone. rin would go off on his own to his usual training ground and work himself to the bone. he wouldn’t even tell you he was leaving, disregarding your worries or concerns that may surface.

you jolted awake randomly, looking to your left to see disturbed duvet covers, but an empty side. yet again. next you turned to your phone, squinting at the light from the screen which temporarily blinded you.

2:34am

you could take a guess or two at where rin was. specifically because you knew he lost his last match abroad and was pissed off about it, meaning double the training he usually did. you threw on some clothes, splashed water on your face and grabbed your car keys to drive to the open football field.

the massive stadium style lights lit up the field, illuminating it in a cool white, as you pulled up next to rin’s car. even from the car park you could hear the discernible sounds of rin’s foot booting a ball repeatedly. once closer, you could see him in his normal training gear, sweating profusely, enough to fill a small bucket.

“rin!”

he stopped, just short of making the next ball his victim, making eye contact with you, not expecting to see you there of all places this late.

he waited until you had crossed the distance between you, and stood in front of him to speak.

“y/n, why are you out here this early? i thought you were sleeping.”

“rin, i should be asking you that. it’s too early to be this active my love. come home please, i’m worried for you.”

all was silent for a moment, the only audible sounds on the pitch being a crow cawing in the distance, and rin’s heavy breathing.

“…i’m fine. just go back home. it’s too early for you to be up.”

you stood, hand on hip, showing your determination to get him to give up, not taking no for an answer.

“rin, you need to sleep. you’re overworking yourself. what happens when you’re fatigued and you leave yourself open for mistakes to happen? it’ll be worse for you in the long run.”

“tch, i wouldn’t expect someone who does office work all day to know the inner workings of an athlete. you don’t understand y/n.”

you sighed exasperatingly at his attempts to disarm you. he could be so stubborn when it was really for his own good.

“rin, i don’t need to be an athlete to understand that this isn’t good for you. anyone with two working brain cells can understand that constant working out and lack of sleep isn’t healthy.”

he rolled his eyes and turned back to the football in front of him.

“fine. whether or not you leave isn’t my problem, but i’m not leaving. stay or go, the outcome is the same either way.”

he took position, aiming and shooting flawlessly at the top left corner of the goal, the ball spinning against the net before falling to the ground.

he grabbed another ball, ready to complete the same procedure before you interrupted him once more.

“rin, just please come home, you can come back tomorrow. just because you lost your match doesn’t mean you should overwork yourself like this.”

this time when he turned back towards you, the tone had shifted. his face immediately darkened, eyes thinning into dark slits, eyebrows forming a crease on his forehead. his teal eyes shot daggers into yours.

“listen. we may be together, but that doesn’t mean you get to talk to me like you know what i’m going through. i’m going to be the best football player out there, and if i need to work double to make that happen, then so. be. it. i don’t need someone like you telling me about what i should or should not be doing.”

you stood in silence, effectively stunned and insulted simultaneously. you couldn’t say anything to counter yourself, rin’s harsh words opening up a side to him you’ve never seen before. that wasn’t the worst of it though.

“honestly i don’t understand why i got with you in the first place. you’re so lukewarm it hurts.”

your heart shattered, face hung in desolation and disheartenment.

after not hearing you argue back for a while he scoffed, walking to the side to collect his training bag. “whatever, i’m leaving now.”

he left you there, standing while the gears turned in your head to make some semblance of his words.

you didn’t even register you were crying until the cold nipped at your cheeks, decreasing the temperature of the liquid against your face. you pulled yourself together, just about enough to shakily make your way back to your car and press the ignition button.

you spent the whole car ride crying your eyes out, before wiping your eyes as you arrived back home. rin’s car was nowhere to be seen.

you walked up to the front door, slotting your key in and twisting your wrist to align with the lock.

pushing the door open, you stepped in to see the lights off and the aura dark.

“rin?”

silence.

“rin, are you there?”

nothing.

you sighed, tossing your keys on the table next to the door, making a beeline to your shared bedroom. it was empty, no signs of life present.

you stripped out of your outside clothes and slipped under the covers,

leaving you to cry yourself to sleep, wondering when it all went wrong.

baby you sold me a dream pt.2

[aihoshiino]

OP YOU ARE SO RIGHT. i hate the idea of ruby "surpassing ai" and the way people have been eating it up 🤦‍♀️

like ok, their intro to the industry could be called similar due to being like scouted, but imo ai got in through her looks and made it because of her hard work. whereas ruby is a nepo baby through and through. sorry not sorry! i just think about how ai was soooo dedicated and hardworking to being a perfect idol that she has perfected her smile right down to the centimeter, thought about the technique she has when thinking abt acting and how it is like shooting for an mv, etc. when has ruby ever done smth like that? 🙄 the only reason she could possibly stand out as an idol to me is because she has ai's genes lmao

It rly is wild how much more info we get about how hard Ai worked as an idol just in the prologue arc, compared to Ruby having like 100+ chapters of the manga all to say "Ruby is the best idol… because she just is, okay????"

It sucks because up through to the Private arc, I actually think we had a really good and strong impression of what made Ruby such an incredible idol - yes, she had a leg up thanks to the whole Nepo Baby Reincarnation thing but as the First Concert arc points out, what makes Ruby so special as an idol is that she is genuinely having the time of her life being one. I think if you've ever seen any kind of live performance you can absolutely tell the difference in energy between someone Not Really Feeling It and someone who is genuinely, sincerely just having a fucking blast. It's electric and infectious and it really can elevate something that is maybe not as technically proficient into something honest to god transcendent - art is, at the end of the day, more than just raw technical execution.

I said this in one of my chapter reviews (or in an ask… I frogor) but the main issue with trying to sell the reader on Ruby 'surpassing' Ai is that the story seems so deathly afraid of acknowledging just how insanely in Ruby's favour the odds were VS. how hard Ai had to fight and claw to become the idol that she did. Ai actually is the radiant, hardworking underdog the story wants to pretend Ruby is which makes it all the more embarrassing that the story has to keep mining Ai's imagery to try and prop up Ruby lol

Honestly, part of me kind of wonders if Akasaka isn't aware of this… Ai's charisma and radiance as a character is kind of a lightning in a bottle feat of writing that's hard to do twice in the space of the same story, especially when the circumstances of Ai's death and involvement of the narrative have made her into such a larger than life figure. So he really kind of can't make Ruby surpass Ai in a way that's believable without falling back on UHHH RUBY IS GOD'S MOST SPECIAL LITTLE PRINCESS JUST BECAUSE.

Which, ironically, just reinforces that Ai was the ultimate, unrivaled idol at least within the bounds of the story. Even the character who supposedly surpassed her could only do it by literally having that achievement fed to her on a silver spoon.

[air-of-the-waterfall]

I shall henceforth and forevermore ramble about the Thunderhead.

Chapter 30 of Scythe is our first proper introduction. Until that point it's just a vague background concept, rather mysterious but undoubtedly pivotal. In chapter 28, we get this:

"Citra Terranova, said a voice both powerful yet gentle. Citra Terranova, can you hear me?

Who's that? Is someone there?

Curious, said the voice. Very curious..."

I love the vagueness and anticipation that Neal Shusterman leaves to simmer for a while. In book one we're getting familiar with the Scythedom's side of things, then as the series progresses we pan out into the entire world with the Thunderhead and the experience is just dazzling. That's the only way I can describe reading it. It literally feels like meeting God.

The Thunderhead's first proper appearance is its conversation with deadish Citra, and we learn all about its personality in one brief chapter. Here's where it becomes a living, complex character. Its voice is so distinct and we're hooked right from the start. It's actually kind of pompous in announcing its presence and making her play "guess who," which I'm thinking it does because that's what she'd expect from it. Authoritative, wise, even mystical.

As the conversation goes on, it's blunt and clever with the exposition, the loopholes, its opinions. It treats Citra like they're on an even playing field and it respects her. It subtly scolds her for pushing that girl in front of a truck, displaying its omniscience and gentle judgement.

The beach ball thing is so funny and adds lightness to an otherwise intense scene. The Thunderhead has quirks and humour, if only hinted at here. "Early programming plagues me like a vestigial tail." I'm going to make a separate post on that.

It expresses its grievances with the state of its existence, albeit watering that down significantly. It doesn't want her to know just how uncertain and frightening things really are, because the whole point of this conversation is that it wants her to have hope. Citra compares it to her mother, which it sidesteps. We all know that parents aren't always correct, and the Thunderhead knows that too. It will not confront the terrifying possibility of being anything but correct. "I know no other way to be."

"The curb is the launching point for many a deed." I love that line because it sets up everything that's soon to happen with Greyson, whom it definitely kicks to the curb in book two. This line hints at how it makes the best of every unfortunate situation. Clouds with silver linings, and such.

"I'm sure you could arrange it." THIS is hilarious. There's the snark. There's the sass. It insults her and then it just ditches her, all the while it's been bringing her back from the dead. Literally performing a miracle. It's like the equivalent of a doctor chewing gum and talking on the phone mid-surgery, completely unfazed. I feel like Citra's not the type to be begging it not to leave, but I sure would be.

The fact that Citra later refers to this experience as "a moment of great awe" reminds us that scythes are human. Fallible. Perhaps even inferior.

It's also funny to see the difference in how the Thunderhead treats Rowan later when he's in the same situation. You can tell that it favours him less than Citra. It doesn't dislike him, because it loves and understands everybody, but it's quicker to get to the point, less gentle, identifying itself right off the bat and adapting itself to Rowan's personality. Rowan knows it will forgive his rudeness.

Also, you know, we learn that the Thunderhead can, you know, reach into people's brains. I'm sure that little talent won't become vitally important later.

Overall this scene is fantastic and the Thunderhead owns my soul goodnight.

[aquadestinyswriting]

Worldbuilding Wednesday- The Marked

Note: Since I've been mentioning that Meredith is a person who has been Marked by her gods, I thought, at @druidx's request, I'd expand on what, exactly, that means from my perspective.

tags: @druidx, @odysseywritings, @homesteadchronicles, @mariahwritesstuff, @sparrow-orion-writes, @blind-the-winds

Titan is a world that is claimed by myriad Gods, many who were involved in the creation of it and the creatures that live upon it, and many, many more who took notice of it long after its creation. Most people upon Titan swear fealty to one god or another and many are those who receive some degree of power from said god, or gods, in return. Occasionally, however, there arise singular individuals who have gained the direct attention of one or more of these deities, be it for the good or ill of the individual in question. These people are referred to as being Marked.

The history of Marked people is a long and storied one. Many are the tales of adventurers sent out on quests by one god or another to perform some heroic deed or other; however, what does being someone who is Marked mean, exactly? The definition above reflects the basics, for certain, but it does not exactly encompass everything implied by the word, nor its true significance to the world at large.

The truth is, those who have been Marked very often lead lives of great peril, thrust into situations most ordinary people could never fathom, and have to deal with obstacles that are nigh-on impossible to overcome. As high priest Ragnarsson observed, when he realised that Meredith was one such individual:

Those that were (Marked), tended to lead difficult, painful and, more often than not, criminally short lives.

In the case of Meredith; she is an individual who was, some say tragically, Marked by the circumstance of her birth as a Shaper. That, however, is not the full truth. While most Shapers are, indeed, Blessed by Throff, few are those who were truly Marked. Marked clerics are set apart from those who are merely particularly Blessed by their unusual ability to instinctively commune directly with their god, or gods. Marked clerics, and paladins by extension, have the uncanny ability to know the true will of their deity, even if it seems contradictory to established doctrine. The High Inquisitor has explained that this type of communion feels like the echo, or impression, of an unheard voice, conveyed through feelings rather than actual words. Such feelings have often been described by clerics who were later identified as Marked before, and seems to be a common trait in those who have gained the direct attention of a deity. For the moment, Meredith appears to be one of the few Marked dwarves in existence that may well outlive the tragedies of her fate and is rumoured to have already been chosen to succeed the current Archlector. Given that the last known Marked Shaper from Fangthane – Meredith’s ancestor, Merewin Stonespeaker – was executed during the second set of Purges following the ascension of Jotunn Goldseeker to the throne of Fangthane, perhaps this is a sign of better things to come for the dwarven kingdom. One can only hope that this is, indeed, the case.

The ability to be Marked is not limited to those with as deep a connection to the divine as clerics and paladins. Many are the tales of martial, magical, or roguish adventurers who have been dogged by seeming tragedy and misfortune, only to turn around and beat seemingly impossible odds to save the day, only to have yet more tragedy befall either them or the people around them. The most recent famous example of this is the legendary Shot in the Dark, Alexis Dalliance: a late Hero of Toreguarde and one of the Saviours of the Pagan Plains. Dalliance is at once honoured and reviled by the people of the city states of Toreguarde and Fangthane for her part in the Demon War and the many tragedies that led up to it. Few know which deity, exactly, she gained the attention and favour of – though rumour has it that she was the first devotee of the enigmatic god of Fate, Luck and Giver of Quests known only as Greg. Who this particular god is, or what his domains are exactly remain a mystery to the vast majority of the people of Titan, though those few people who have journeyed with Dalliance, and lived to tell the tale, maintain that His existence is no mere myth. There is no question that the Shot in the Dark was a Marked individual, though whether she was from childhood, or gained the status later in life is currently unknown. What is known is that tragedy followed in her wake throughout her adventuring career and even, rumours state, for a long time thereafter until her mysterious disappearance from all records on the material plane two years before the events of the recent near-Ragnarok event. Those people who knew her best have refused to comment on what happened to the woodling woman, and this chronicler doubts that they ever will. All that now remains of her existence is what is told in song and tale, which grow ever more exaggerated with every re-telling.

Of course, not every Marked individual has been chosen by a benevolent deity. Some of the most reviled villains in the history of Titan have gained the attention of the gods aligned with evil, or even the Demon Princes. The most famous examples of this are the Diabolic Three: Zagor, Balthus Dire and Zharradan Marr, all three of whom gained the attention of the Demon Princes during their various reigns of terror. Another example is the half-demonic, half-construct Turray Lok, an individual who was tragically Marked by the Demon Prince Myurr and tasked with the destruction of Allansia several years before the Demon War. The most recent example is, supposedly, the individual now known only as the Black Lady, a dwarven woman who is rumoured to have been Marked by at least one of the Dark Lords of the Void. There are some who some believe that the Black Lady has managed to ascend to the level of Demon Prince in her own right following the events of Ragnarok, though these conjectures remain entirely unsubstantiated and are routinely, vehemently opposed by the Archlector of Fangthane and the High Priestess of Kar Kherril. Those who have been Marked by Evil, are very often opposed by those Marked by more benevolent deities. Many believe that this is an effort to maintain some sort of cosmic balance. Whether or not this is truly the case, in most cases the clashes between these individuals often involve great loss of life, usually at the cost of those not directly involved who just happened to be in the way. As a result, many Marked individuals in the past have been run out of civilization altogether in a vain attempt to prevent such loss of life from occurring again.

In summary: To be Marked by the gods (or god-like beings) is both a blessing and a curse. Which one, depends somewhat on the individual in question, but is more down to the interpretation of the others around them. Just as many are reviled as they are celebrated, but there is no doubt that all have left an impact on the world that can never truly be forgotten

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

Find the Words

Search your works for the given words and post the context of what you find! My given words (from @squadron-of-damned ) were youth, hypocrisy, burrow, and bias. 

I bolded them for ease of finding. 

youth 

‘No,’ Gríma shrugs. ‘Only, people have had the recent habit of assuming that about me. Wasn’t always the case, but it’s been a thing in the last five years.’

‘Why? Were you up to no good?’

‘In a manner of speaking.’

Hallbjorn mulls over this in the studious, trying-terribly-hard fashion of youth. His hair is pulled back out of his face this day, save for several curls who misbehave, waving jauntily about his forehead in the breeze.

‘What’d you do?’ Hallbjorn finally asks.

Gríma opens his mouth, fishes for a bit, shuts it. Smokes assiduously. Exhales and thinks that he misses Frodo’s company. The hobbit never asked too many questions. Or, if he did ask, there was a purpose to them and he had such a way of asking that Gríma didn’t mind very much—at least, at the end of the day, he didn’t mind very much.

‘I broke an oath,’ Gríma replies. Having finished his pipe, he pulls himself a second bowl. ‘And I committed a great betrayal.’

‘To who? Your wife?’

‘My—what? No. Why would you assume that? No one says I cheated on my wife like that.’

‘I don’t know. That’s how my grandfather put it. Mum’s dad.’

 hypocrisy

Marcus Aurelianus is not proving soothing. Vetinari notes down in his journal some of the more sage advice he wishes to emulate but struggles to apply himself to them at this moment. He writes, Let it be thy earnest and incessant care as a Morkporkian and a man to perform whatsoever it is that thou art about, with true and unfeigned gravity, natural affection, freedom and justice: and as for all other cares, and imaginations, how thou mayest ease thy mind of them. Which thou shalt do; if thou shalt go about every action as thy last action, free from all vanity, all passionate and willful aberration from reason, and from all hypocrisy, and self-love, and dislike of those things, which by the fates or appointment of the Gods have happened unto thee.

Finishing the passage, which takes up two pages when written out in a proper manner, he stares at it. What did he expect to feel upon inhuming Winder? Gratification? Pride? Knowing he had rid Ankh-Morpork of yet another vain, petty and cruel patrician.

Should he have wanted to feel pride for it? Vanity? Is he vain?

Perhaps he is not made of the stern stuff he wished to fashion himself out of. Perhaps he is soft materials like his colleagues at the Guild. He is no Marcus Aurelianus.

 burrow

‘If I got a doctorate and if I advanced through the ranks at the Guild I could end up a lord, you know.’ 

Amos snorts. Wouldn’t that be the day—his son, a lord. 

‘If I continued there I’d be a gentleman,’ Downey snaps. ‘I wouldn’t have my hand in trade.’ 

‘A bloodstained hand is worse than a hand that does honest work?’ Asked quietly. The room becomes brittle. Downey’s mind scatters off then regroups itself. He shakes his head. ‘I fear I have failed you in one regard, William, which is that I’ve allowed you to become used to getting whatever it is you want at the snap of your fingers. That isn’t how things work in life and the world has harsh ways of teaching those who do not learn this lesson early.’ 

Downey focuses on his cards. His father’s gaze burrows into his skull and he wants to protest this assessment. He isn’t selfish! Indeed, he is well equipped to handle things when they don’t go to his liking. He does it all the time at the Guild. 

Exhibit A: Vetinari, that scag, was made his lab partner in applied poisons for three years in a row. Downey did inform Dr. Tindel that this was a deplorable state of affairs but his favoured professor remained uninterested in altering the seating arrangement. 

Once it became clear no cajoling would work to budge the Dog-botherer on and get someone decent in as a lab-partner, like Willis, Downey gave up and likes to think he accepted the situation with grace. He can bear ignominy nobly.

This hand Downey wins. He silently lays his cards out and calculates the score. His father allows the silence grow and linger and gain weight. 

 biased.

Jacopo is one for French lutes and songs, says they have more depth. Cristof informed Nicolo of this once to which Nicolo sneered: French music is pretty enough, I’ll grant. Fashionable, even. But it is Venetian and Tuscan that lifts the soul.

And Andalusian?

Nicolo leaned in with sly expression, I have a special fondness for that form, I must admit. But then, I am terribly biased.

This was a lot of fun! and I also realized that I almost never use the word hypocrisy. The things you learn about your own writing 

I choooose: @ahufflepuffhobbit and @pipuhattar annnd @dellevigne but only if you want to! 

Words are: inertia, flesh, wretch, and awe. 

(feel free to sub in synonyms if there are blank patches - I almost did for hypocrisy.)

[weirdplutoprince]

I love your comics and how you feel about the characters, they're how I feel about them!

I wanted to say that I always imagined Ayame having some kind of friendship with Akito where - like with everyone else - he would happily be himself.

I imagine that Akito would learn a lot from Ayame and be pulled into his shenanigans. I would have preferred to see that for Akito, especially since she left him alone when she was still God, it would have been interesting to see!

Imagine Ayame helping Akito having a wardrobe which helped her express her femininity, with help from Mine of course. I don't know, I can just imagine them becoming friends, I'm curious what your thoughts are?

Is there anyone you would have liked to see having a talk with or bonding with Akito?

Thank you so much!! :)

Haha I have to say I never imagined Akito and Ayame as friends; they'd certainly make an interesting pair!

The feeling that I get is that Akito is someone that doesn't have a lot of social energy overall? So even if they miraculously get along I feel like she'd get tired of Ayame pretty fast haha. As for Ayame being himself I think that's another can of worms in itself, if only for the fact Akito is someone that is very easily hurt from what she perceives as rejection and abandoment - so though I assume she would be working on learning how to handle these feelings by the end I feel like Ayame would be a specially difficult challenge for her; Since he himself is also working on being less selfish and callous with the feelings of others.

So to me it feels like he could easily hurt her by accident, which might send her on a spiral of self loathing and resentment etc.

Though I do think you have a point in that since they didn't interact much when she was God, he might not be particularly resentful towards her and thus they would have a somewhat fresh ground to start on. Although I have to wonder if Ayame would be the kind to take on Yuki's pain for himself and have some complicated feelings about Akito for it. I can see it going both ways with him so it's something to think about. I also think that it is true that he could help with self expression: that's kinda his strong point! Haha. I feel like if there is one area they could communicate through it might as well be self expression through clothes. Though I'm also not sure if Ayame's playful personality would have Akito defensive in what would be a sensitive moment for her lol.

As for expressing her femininity I'm not sure. It is true she was pretty much denied any sort of positive contact with femininity - and it is also possible that this sort of alienation from that is part of what fuels her resentment towards other women. But at the same time, I feel like she would favour more comfortable looks that might lean slightly on femininity rather than just completely embracing it heads on. Like, I know that she went straight to hyper performing it at the end, but I choose to believe this is her awkwardly trying to make up and fall into what she believes is her 'new role' within her family and in her position as the head of the Sohma. I'd like to think that in due time, she'd go back to somewhat more androgynous looks, and would find ways to explore femininity more comfortably. Though I'm a bit partial in that because I very much prefer her 'male' clothes haha.

Hmm...As for someone I'd like to see talking or bonding with Akito....I'm not sure! There's so many people in the zodiac, it's actually a bit hard to choose. It's also difficult because so many of them have so much baggage with her that I can only imagine would be quite difficult to unpack. I think if anything I'd like to see Akito broadening her horizons and meeting people completely removed from the Sohma and any of her previous circles. I think that'd do her good. Particularly perhaps older women that could be a positive influence on her; Like talkative grannies at the park or something haha. I think that's all for now. Thanks for the nice ask! :)

[possiblyaworldbuilder]

More on the four Faces in the current age (this one is pretty long):

This will be more focussed on the Faces from the perspective of Gòlhyík specifically since there are some interesting things going on there that aren’t in other nations.

Now I don’t know much yet about the religion and beliefs of the people of Gòlhyík, except for that they do have (partially public) temples for worship and that the Faces are also worshipped from home and other locations. Also they are commonly asked for help or guidance with specific matters. The Faces, apart from the four broad concepts, are also often attributed more specific things. Lòtàr, Face of death, is commonly connected to harvest and farming. Saròs, Face of space for example is also often connected to travel, war, light and the sun which is known as the eye of Saròs.

-Stylized depiction.

Also, Lòtàr, and thus the concept of death, is not seen as a bad thing by the Tèràl cultures. Death, in general, is a natural, and even a beautiful departure from the world to that which lies beyond. Of cource losing someone hurts just as much but death, in many cases is accompanied by a ritual guiding the soul of the diseased to peace. People still fear dying but that is related mostly to loss of what they have or the pain beforehand and not of dying itself. Lòtàr is seen as a gentle God, bringing those who left the world to peace.

Now for something that makes the organised church in Gòlhyík so unique is that they seem to be favoured somewhat by the Faces.

But for this we need to talk about magic!(ànfòryíl /ɑnfɔrji:l/ roughly translated to: gift of the Faces)

You see, the Faces sometimes gift a tiny fraction of their powers to the peoples of the worlds. This is generally not very common and the pattern behind this is vague at best. Some believe it has to do with your future or potential that only the Faces know, some say it happens if you pleased the Faces. Others speculate it has to do with how your soul is endowed with a little bit of devinity from birth and if you are lucky enough you get enough of it to ‘unlock’ your magic abilities later. (This idea has the most validity but is still quite far off)

Now this is a little different in Gòlhyík. Most people don’t know any specifics and it is kept as a strict secret, but the church in Gòlhyík has a ritual they perform which makes it that the Faces gift their magic to someone. This only seems to be happening with two of the Faces, Saròs and Tavàr (space and time) so far, but why this is the case is unclear. I will go into detail about the magic systems later.

Ofcource these magic users (for lack of a better term for now) are extremely dangerous and very valuable, so how does the church deal with this?

First off: it takes a lot to be selected by the church to get into the program. Often the ones who do are high ranking military or church members who have proven themselves. Monsterhunters are also more likely to be selected and many of the organised groups have one, or sometimes even more, magic user among them. After getting selected for the program you have to go through extensive combat and military training but also religious education. This part is cult-like in the way they bake specific ideas and ideals into you in order to keep you under control and try to prevent potential rouge magic users.

After someone has gone through this and they have been granted their magic, there is no backing out. The church has control over you and could, if they please to, use you for anything they want. In general this is the military (thanks to the war) but monsterhunters are usually allowed to keep doing their job.

Any magic user not directly under the church’s supervision are required to make regular reports so that the church has full knowledge of what all of their magic users are doing. Everything they do and what happens to them is well recorded and stored in special archives.

Magic users who abandon the church are hunted down and the either killed or imprisoned. The power and information they hold is not something the church takes lightly.

And that’s all for now! I derailed a little and the post is a bit longer but I hope you’ll find it interesting! Thanks for reading and until next time.

Havéja!!

[ash-soka]

31, 38, 42 for the oc ask meme?

31. Pick one OC of yours and explain what their tumblr blog would be like (what they reblog, layout, anything really)

this question made my go and make a whole fake blog for my first ever dnd oc, Myrah (pronounced meer-uh). this is her:

(picrew by nudekay)

her blog would look like this:

she'd mostly blog about fashion, interact with her handful of friends, and advertise her youtube channel. she's an elf bard in canon, so she would put a lot of violin content on youtube, and maybe the occasional harp piece.

if you want to see the kind of posts she'd reblog/her aesthetic, you can check out her blog here!

warning though, it only looks good in desktop, and i will also probably never post to it again

38. Which one of your OCs would be the best dancer?

Oh, Orpheus by far! He's spent 10 years as a professional dancer in his canon setting, and he always still dances in any au I put him in. And that was always the plan for him, right back to his earliest design concept—

^I almost never post my art so most of you have never seen this but here's my first ever drawing of one of my favourite boys! excuse how lq it is, this is just a screenshot, the original is on my old laptop, it was that long ago. He's evolved somewhat from this original concept, but he's very much still a dancer!

Orpheus is my water genasi bard OC from @literalpotatx's dnd campaign. Ash very graciously let me make him a dancer instead of a more traditional type of bard.

Orpheus joined a dance troupe when he was around 17 or 18, and within the next year or two they were invited to perform for the royalty of his home kingdom. He spent the next 10 years, basically the entirety of his 20s, as a dancer for the royal court of Pythos, so he's pretty good. I do have some unfinished art of him when he was first invited to the palace with the other dancers:

which i also posted here!

I flip flop on what styles of dance he'd like in a modern setting, I think he'd like the control that ballet requires you to have, but i could easily see him liking other styles as well. I keep coming back to these two videos (one, two) as possible dance inspiration for him in his canon setting! i think he'd strive to master a few different styles over time. sorry this got so long— my dancer oc is one of my favourites!

42. Which one of your OCs would be the most interested in Greek gods?

okay i really love this question, i can answer it in a few different ways,

1) if taken completely literally then, it's him again, my beloved Orpheus:

(picrew by baydews, colours slightly edited by me)

so. funny coincidence. my Orpheus is not the Orpheus of greek myth, I just personally love the myth of orpheus and eurydice and thought it would make a good name for a bard, even though my bard is a dancer. I named him that, and had him ready to go as a character the next chance I got to play someone new— so when I got invited to play in a new campaign, I decided to use Orpheus, and later found out this campaign would be incorporating Greek gods.

really funny to me how that happened. and the funniest part is that it happened AGAIN, another player in the same campaign decided to recycle her oc from years ago, named atlas, the next chance she got, and had decided to play as them before finding out this was a Greek gods campaign [doofenshmirtz "two nickels but weird that it happened twice" meme]

so, if i take "which oc would be most interested in greek gods" completely literally for their canon settings, the answer is Orpheus because those are the gods in charge of the world he lives in. funnily, if you'd asked this a few weeks ago i don't know if i could have said as much dkhgbdfkhb. yes, the Greek gods are real in the world he lives in, but. Orph didn't really care about them in more than a vague sense until Thanatos did him a favour last session dkghbdk. Thanatos isn't even the first god he's met, he's met Hermes and been in the vicinity of Artemis, he just wasn't that impressed before now i guess kdhfgbdk. to be fair, idk if he fully realised hermes was a god, and he didn't properly meet artemis. He's also met some? demi-gods I guess? it's complicated to explain, but I think one of them kind of did also put the fear of the gods into him a little bit so. he does care more now because of all that's happened. and i think that counts as being "most interested" out of all my ocs in their canon settings.

2) if taken in a. kind of literal but kind of meta way? it's complicated hold on.

if I had a nickel for every time a friend told me about their idea for a modern greek gods au, and let me come up with a concept for how my personal favourite god would fit into that setting, i'd have two nickels. which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

but anyway, my favourite of the Greek gods is Thanatos, the god of death. i just really like psychopomps, and although he's nearly always present in some way or another, he's rarely actually mentioned, which basically makes him free real estate for this kind of thing.

(was I smug that orph had a really positive interaction with my favourite god so i could let my favouritism bleed into him? yes, thank you for asking!)

and i always say the same thing for him in a modern setting as a human, he'd be the hard working employee of a funeral home that Hades owns. his twin Hypnos works there too, mostly on reception but he helps his brother out when he's not sleeping on the job instead. back in like, 2018, a friend asked what i'd do with him and this is what i came up with, and i've stuck with it. (also a good excuse to bring up any knowledge i've retained from watching askamortician over the years).

also the part of my brain that wants me to go "i liked it before it was cool" is forcing me to say: i've never played that hades game. this is just from my own interpretation

i've been thinking about it recently because a different friend asked a few weeks ago, which prompted me to actually do designs for Thanatos (left) and Hypnos (right) in this setting.

(picrew by cosmitasia)

so in a weird way i think this version of Thanatos who's basically an oc would count as "most interested in the greek gods" because basically every other character we worked into this setting that he'd be interacting with is another greek god, lmao.

3) but, if i take this the way i think the question actually intended, as in, in a modern setting, which of your OCs would be the most interested in Greek Mythology, then the answer changes again!

In that case the answer is probably my mc for the exile, Dimitra "Mimi" Vamirel, she really loves reading and I think she'd take a real interest in mythology in general in a modern setting! i'll add a picrew of her here too:

(picrew by djarn)

thank you so much for sending this!!!!! 💖💘💝💞 i appreciate the chance to talk about my brain blorbos

link to the oc questions, in case anyone else wants to send them!

i have 1, 2, 24, 33, and 44 sitting in my inbox though! i will get to them asap <3

[realcube]

trying to be nice to their crush hcs

navi | masterlist | taglist

thank you to 🍦anon for this cute request!

characters: tsukishima, kyōtani, sakusa & suna

content warning: swearing & sexual references 

kei tsukishima 

♡ this is all yamaguchi’s fault （︶^︶）

♡ he found out tsukki had a crush on you bc he mentioned you a lot in conversation so yamaguchi interrogated him for answers then lo and behold, the beanpole had a lil thing for you 

♡ you sit in front of tsukishima in homeroom while yamaguchi sits beside him so when you leaned back and asked him if you could borrow a pencil and he spat back a snarky remark about you being too irresponsible to care for your own pencils, yamaguchi hastily offered you one of his own before scolding tsukishima 

♡ he explained to his clueless friend that being nasty to people isn’t a good way to get them to like you 

♡ so perhaps he should be nicer :)

♡ honestly, tsukishima would’ve just looked yamaguchi straight in the eyes and went ‘no’, if it wasn’t for the fact you shot tadashi the sweetest smile anD PLAYFULLY BLEW HIM A KISS AFTER HE JUST GAVE YOU A DAMN PENCIL LIKE WTF 

♡ after that, he decided to give up his current personality and pick up a new one 

♡ jk jk 

♡ but he had to binge a whole bunch of those youtube psychology videos that are like ‘psychological tricks to make people like you’ and ‘THESE 5 MIND TRICKS WILL MAKE YOU THE MOST POPULAR PERSON *EVER*’!!

♡ spoiler alert: he wasn’t the most popular person but perhaps that was bc he only went to the effort of using those tricks on you 

♡ god bless him; he tries hard, he really does. (not his best, just hard)

♡ but you don’t have to be extremely observant to realise that he’s began acting different around you and of course, it confused you seeing tsukishima being nice

♡ what irritated you was how dismissive he was being of your questions though, as he was clearly trying to lead you to believe that you were crazy and he’s just always been a nice guy 

♡ but as soon as he figures out that he angered you, he’ll instantly switch back to him normal self - draining his mind of the hours of phycology studying he did last night to just pretend like it never happened 

♡ and if he’s feeling flirty, he might be extra mean to you （￣︶￣）

♡ also he makes a mental note to never take yamaguchi’s romance advice ever again 🙄

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you sighed, removing your hand from your bag after desperately rummaging through it in search of a pencil once again - deja vu. once you accepted that a pencil wasn’t going to materialise out of thin air, you peered over your shoulder and tapped the corner of yamaguchi’s desk, who wore a suspicious grin which you decided against questioning. 

“yamaguchi, do you think i could borrow a pencil again? sorry, this is the last time, i swear. i’ll be sure to get some on my way home after school tod--” 

yamaguchi dropped the line him and tsukishima had rehearsed many times beforehand, while clutching his pencilcase dear to his chest, “woah, (y/n). you’re so irresponsible. sorry, i can’t lend one of my pristine pencils to someone who is too forgetful to remember to buy some; what if you forget to return it to me?” 

tsukishima cringed at how forced it sounded but he couldn’t help but admire yamaguchi's dedication to his role. this allowed tsukishima to swoop in, pencil in hand, “here.” that wasn’t in the script but he panicked! okay, now, eye contact. 

you just sat there and stared at both of them with the most dumbfounded look plastered on your face. what just happened?  why were they both acting like they were in drama class?  and why are they both so bad at acting? they’re both passing performing arts for fucks’ sake!

kentarō kyōtani 

♡ sorry but i firmly believe kyōtani is the sorta guy to be extra mean to ppl he fancies smh

♡ the rest of them just act (somewhat) like themselves around their crush but kyōtani is himself2 (himself^2)

♡ like one time yahaba found you trembling in your locker bc you had gotten mud on mad dog’s white shoes so he chased you through the hallways of the school, threatening to trek mud on your forehead 

♡ yahaba took it upon himself to investigate as to why kyōtani was so rude to you and he got his answer as soon as he mentioned your name to mad dog and the boy’s face immediately flushed red 

♡ so after practise, yahaba schools mad dog on how to get chicks (⌐■_■)

♡ in short, his advice was ‘good guys get laid’ and for kyōtani’s understanding, ‘good’ and ‘kind’ were interchangeable 

♡ mad dog wasn’t completely oblivious to how he treated you and he was aware that he was far from ‘kind’

♡ although he usually doesn’t listen to people in general, yahaba seemed to know what he was talking about so he figured there was no harm in trying to be nice 

♡ but ngl, he just spent the rest of the day wondering...what is kind?

♡ after a few messages back and forth with yahaba, he figured that the best place to start was by apologising for - y��know - chasing you around the whole school 

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

“oi!” kyōtani bellowed through hallway, paying no mind to the students that cast him dirty looks as his sights were locked on you. standing unsuspecting by your locker, stuffing your textbooks into your bag until you heard his deep voice echo through the hall, to which you visibly perked up and began frantically looking around.

he marched towards you, hands in pockets and when you noticed him out of the corner of your eye, you were more than ready to drop all your shit and bolt away. but he didn’t let you as before you were able to take off on your heels, he grabbed your shoulder and spun you around to face him - then he noticed your hands raised in defence by your face and your head hung low.

his heart sank and his grip on your shoulder immediately softened, “i’m not gonna punch you, idiot.” he spat, rolling his eyes and gritting his teeth, trying to appear angry in hopes you’d mistake his light blush for pure rage. 

“i just wanted to say that i felt bad for chasing you through the halls yesterday - you didn’t stand a chance so i guess it was a bit unfair.” he said, frowning as you replied with silence so the duty fell on him to fill it, “and i got the stain out, anyway so.” 

more silence. lovely.

suddenly, he puffed his cheeks out as his eyes snapped to meet yours and he roared, “ARE YOU GONNA FUCKING SAY SOMETHING OR ARE YOU TOO BRAINDE-”

“are you wearing eyeliner?” 

and that was the true story behind why you missed last period, because you and kyōtani had a 30 minute conversation about eyeliner and make-up, then he convinced you to skip the rest of class with him so he could buy you ramen as an apology gift.

so yeah, he figured that perhaps he should try being nice more often.

kiyoomi sakusa

♡ he didn’t need someone to tell him to be nicer, he’s just predisposed to attempt to show kindness to someone he is fond of

♡ in his mind, showing kindness, respect and stripping himself of all his personality = the only way to be desirable 

♡ (ofc this takes place before he meets atsumu tho lol)

♡ so it’s not the realisation that’s the problem for him, it’s the execution 

♡ like how is he supposed to be nice without either sounding creepy or condescending? 

♡ *cut to sakusa practising in the bathroom mirror* ‘your hand looks- no-’ he scoffs, flicking cold water onto his face, ‘your hair looks cool- pretty- nice?’

♡ *camera pans to sakusa laying in bed, staring intently at the ceiling while imagining vivid and scarily detailed scenarios about ways he could mess up while talking to you* 

♡ *camera zooms in on sakusa’s face as he manifests a nicer version of himself*

♡ he might - depending on how insecure he is - watch one of those psychology videos or read a wikihow for help

♡ but other than that, he independently tries to alter his personality in order to gain your favour bc..true love ?

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you smiled as a basketball rolled up to your feet during gym class, followed by the sound of someone approaching you and upon raising your gaze, your eyes met sakusa’s unmistakable black ones. his face hovered only a few inches away from yours due to the fact you had both reached down to pick up the ball at the same time.

he quickly pulled himself away, tucking the basketball under his elbow as he adjusted his mask so it properly covered his face to ensure that you didn’t see the light blush slowly spreading across his cheeks. he then proceeded to blurt out what he had been rehearsing for the past few nights, “oh, thank you, (y/n). your hair looks lovely today, by the way.”

you giggled, holding your hands firmly by your side to avoid fidgeting and making it obvious that his sudden comment flustered you, “thanks, sakusa. and, if we’re handing out compliments today, i didn’t know you were good at any sport other than volleyball but you’re doing surprisingly well at basketball.” you joked, your lips slowly curling into a cocky smirk, “though, i don’t think you’d stand a chance against my team.” 

god, you’re such a tease. you make it so hard for him to be nice to you. so, of course, your comment returned his ability to utter almost every sarcastic comment that comes to mind - screw being likeable. “you think so?” he quirked a brow, tossing the ball onto your lap then pacing backwards, “go on, then.”

rintarō suna

♡ it was probably those tips on social media that told him he has to be nicer 

♡ and plus he saw terushima get all the chicks and he was just sitting there like ‘where are my bitches at? 🥺’

♡ anyway, all the guys on social media that had girls lining up outside their door always had one thing in common: misogyny  obnoxious personalities !!

♡ and his whole personality was a sacrifice suna was willing and ready to make for just a crumb of cooch  🤲

♡ though you weren’t exactly his crush yet, suna thought you were the best person to carry out this experiment with bc he heard through the grapevine that you had a crush on him so perhaps this would make you happy

♡ he didn’t prepare much beforehand though which he immediately regretted as soon as he approached you bc admittedly, his game plan of ‘be self-assured but friendly’ was a bit vague 

♡ so he basically just had to bullshit through a whole, awkward conversation with you while wearing a forced ‘bold’ smirk which, in reality, looked as though he had just seen tiddies for the first time 

♡ hardly self-assured or friendly 

♡ also, the fact you thought he was playing a prank on you must’ve drastically altered the results of his experiment 

♡ at one point he says something extremely stupid you’d just quit playing along and just blurt out ‘wtf is wrong with you today’

♡ to which he’d be like ‘ahaha, nuthin much bbg, how bout you?’

♡ THE EXPERIEMNT ISN’T OVER UNTIL HE SAYS IT’S OVER OKAy?!

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

you rubbed your temples in order to soothe the throbbing headache suna gave you simply by existing. like yes, you had a crush on him 10 minutes ago - but that was before he came up to you and started acting like terushima on dodgy medication. “oh and your skin is glowing bab--”

“jesus christ, rintarō, shut up!” you cried, gripping the edge of your skirt to prevent your self from delivering a swift punch right to his stupid face. he’s seriously gotten on all your nerves at this point; firstly, by spamming your phone in the middle of the night asking for homework answers (accompanied by cursed memes) as he actually managed to wake you up. secondly, by acting so oblivious to the fact you clearly had a crush on him and now, this!

heat rose to his cheeks in embarrassment as his creepy smile instantly fell right back into his resting bitch face, “this isn’t working, is it?” 

“what’s not working?”

suna scoffed, rolling his eyes - his façade having evidently disappeared. “this.” he sighed, looking around as if someone was going to save him before his eyes finally settled on you and he was reminded of what he wanted in the first place, his sparkle was rekindled for just a moment which caused him to blurt out, “just fuck me already, i’m not asking for much.”

[ruzek-halstead]

i found my hand is holding yours

so this started as a drabble and was supposed to be hella short, but please enjoy 1.6k words of julie and luke being absolutely adorable. 

julie has been dealing with a persistent classmate who won’t take no for an answer, so luke accompanies her to their end-of-the-term party in hopes to get the point across. 

masterlist

"okay, so i have a really weird favour to ask.”

luke looked up from his guitar, arching a brow at julie's obvious distress. they had been at it for a few hours, trying to write a new song, but the motivation wasn't really flowing. ultimately they decided to separate and see what they could come up with on their own. it was a bit pointless since all luke could think about was the girl in the corner and all of his feelings for her.

"there are only a handful of things i wouldn't do for you, jules. so, shoot."

the apparent blush on her cheeks was unavoidable, so she pulled a few stray curls out from behind her ears. 

"would you mind coming with me to this end of term party type thing?" julie asked, hesitantly biting her lip. it wasn't that she didn't think he'd be up for it, it was just the uncomfortableness of the entire situation. "it's for everyone in our music program. but there's just this guy who isn't really getting the hint and i figure if —" luke's eyes snapped over to her nervous and fiddling figure as soon as she mentioned a boy. "i'll be there," he replied instantly. his limited motivation to continue strumming his guitar until he found a melody he enjoyed immediately disappeared, and all he could think about was that julie had been feeling uncomfortable lately, and he had no idea. "he's not like a bad guy or anything!" julie rushed to add, because she had a heart of gold and always sought the best in people. "he's sweet, really — sort of. he's just also very persistent and i'm not —" "you don't need to explain," luke told her, shooting her a lopsided grin to calm her nerves. "i'll be there." it was a blessing in disguise that the boys could now be seen by everyone, and not just when they were performing with julie. she would feel much more comfortable with luke by her side; he was her anchor, and it helped that he was so protective, that hopefully he would help get the hint across to her surprise suitor. she knew what luke was thinking; was it nick? and the answer was no. they were friends now, nothing more. but a few months back, a new student joined their program, and he was partnered with julie for a few exercises. she didn't think anything of it, being friendly and polite as per her usual. it seemed like somewhere along the way, he developed feelings for her and no matter how many times she said no to a date, he kept asking. something about persistence? julie hated it. he was still constantly polite and respectful, but the mere fact that he wouldn't take no for an answer was severely unnerving for her. she hoped him seeing her with luke would get the hint across that she wasn't interested (and if it led him to believe that she wasn't available, then so be it). the music program party was being held in the school gym, filled with games, snacks and of course, an open mic. even though julie was a tad bit nervous to attend, luke confidently grabbed onto her hand and quite literally dragged her into the gymnasium. "socialization is good for you, jules," he had said teasingly, to which julie squeezed his hand painfully. he shot her a wolfish grin in response. "i'm going to get us drinks, you good?" luke pondered, ducking his eyes to meet hers. he could tell how nervous she looked by the way she couldn't stop moving her hands, and it irritated him that someone was making her feel weary like this. "jules," he repeated, squeezing her hand. julie nodded, raising her chin in a more obvious display of confidence. "i'm good," she insisted. he pulled on their hands until he was out of her reach and hers dropped back down to her side. the gym was decently filled; julie recognized a number of familiar faces as she actively searched for flynn, who had shot her a message saying she was already here. as she was distracted searching through the crowd, she didn't notice the one person she was trying to avoid. his name was caden, and he was cute and sweet, but he was just not getting it. "hey julie! it's nice to see you!" his hands were shoved into the front pockets of his jeans as he rocked back and forth. "are you planning on singing tonight?" julie shot him a polite smile. she just didn't have it in her to be mean, but she knew if she was a bit more direct and aggressive, this entire situation might end here and now. "probably not. i don't plan on staying long." "oh," his eyes widened, and suddenly julie knew that was the wrong thing to say. "did you maybe want to go out after? coffee or something?" julie felt her panic start to climb its way up her throat; god, where the hell was luke? it's okay, she just had to let him down again. "uh, actually —" "here you go, jules!" julie almost screamed in relief when she heard luke's familiar voice. he slipped in next to her, bumping her hip clumsily. to the untrained eye, it looked like he was just being a walking hazard, but julie knew it was on purpose. he was a touch-oriented person, and his touch soothed julie; they both knew that. luke handed julie a cup of punch, and his gaze flitted to caden, who was staring at them with wide blue eyes. "oh hey! my name's luke, i'm in the band with julie." with his free hand, he reached over to shake caden's hand. caden looked surprised and a tad disappointed, but he was nothing but respectful to luke as he introduced himself. "i'm caden, one of julie's classmates." a comfortable silence passed among them as their focus was directed to the stage where one of their classmates was performing. luke could sense julie's tension and his free hand reached down for hers. he didn't outright tangle their fingers together but his pinky reached out to wrap with hers in a comforting gesture. it gave her the power to do whatever she felt comfortable with. unbeknownst to them, caden watched their entire interaction, and even though he was disappointed, only a blind person wouldn't see their obvious connection. it suddenly dawned on him why julie never seemed to reciprocate his intentions, and he couldn't believe he'd never caught on before (he saw their performances on youtube videos). "ah, so you two are...?" caden trailed off, unsure of what to label it. luke and julie glanced over at him, julie with furrowed eyebrows, and luke with a somewhat smug but innocent expression. "oh, we're not re—" julie started to say, but caden shook his head, smiling. "i should've figure it out sooner," he added, "i've seen the youtube videos. you can't fake that chemistry." luke pursed his lips at the use of the word chemistry. at one point, he'd deny it, but at this point? it would be an outright lie. julie, however, just looked confused. "sure, but that's no—" "it's okay julie, you don't have to explain," caden insisted. "i see the way he looks at you, and i get it now. i'll see you around," he smiled, waving before he walked away. luke awkwardly sipped his drink. he wasn't expecting to be put on blast like that. he couldn't exactly control his eyes and what they did when they looked at julie. she was the embodiment of beauty and music and perfection, and that was everything luke saw when he looked at her. if he was exhibiting 'heart-eyes' (as alex and reggie had told him multiple times), he couldn't stop it. "okay, well, i guess that worked," julie smiled, tapping her cup against luke's in cheers. "although, i wonder why he thought we were — you know." luke glanced over at her. she was watching the stage performance with such a sense of innocence that luke almost didn't want to burst her bubble. almost. "come on, jules," he chuckled, shaking his head when she turned to him with questioning eyes. "you know why." julie pursed her lips, holding his steady gaze. it was challenging because his eyes were absolutely gorgeous and intense, and clearly the way he looked at her made her feel things. sometimes she could feel his gaze on her while she played piano, or while she studied for a test or wrote excitedly in his (their) song journal. sometimes she would look over at him and he'd already be looking at her. and at first, he would look away in embarrassment, but now, he would hold her gaze, sometimes even going as far to send a smirk to really throw her off her game and fluster her. something had changed between them along the way and they both knew it. they just hadn't decided when was the right time to address it. the truth was luke could be ripped away at any moment; the thought caused julie to live in a constant state of paralyzing fear. and so, the time never felt right. "yeah," julie mumbled, reached for his hand again. "i do." julie didn't end up leaving early. she found herself in the corner of the gym, leaning against the wall with luke's arm wrapped securely around her shoulders. they watched performance after performance and they couldn't even be bothered to get up on stage and show them what a real duet looked like because they were so comfortable in each other's arms. and as julie tipped her head onto luke's shoulder, a sudden wave of exhaustion overtaking her, she knew caden never had a chance because her heart was already taken.

-

tag list: @grootsgillespie || @jayhalsteadcpd || @moreflowersthanweeds || @well-hes-just-too-cute || @echocharm17618 || @leopard-print-slippers || @jandthephantoms || @scribblingfangirl || @n0wornever || @simpformolina || @only-trust-fictional-characters || @snowmione18 || @tellurphantoms || @knitsessed || @carriewilsons || @elitharavenclaw || @wakeupfantoms || @uselessnerdnherblahg || @katie-navarro || @bookwormswillruletheworld || @lmaohuh || @thatsmyverb || @sophiphi || @kybee1497 || @lukewearingbeanies || @sapphireamethystvsco || @constantly-singing || @helloilovejatp || @your-typical-ingenue || @nonickslander || @s-h-a-d-o-w-s || @asdfghjkl-fanfics 

[ladeaeveld]

Notes on Tevinter Nights

I finished reading Tevinter Nights not so long ago, so here is an overview of what is happening in Thedas. There is probably nothing particularly new since I'm a bit late to the party. However, I find such overviews convenient to refresh my memory when needed. Perhaps it will be useful to someone else!

This overview was meant to be short, but there were so many interesting details... now, it is huge.

Also, since I’ve read the translated version, any help with wording clarifications is greatly appreciated!

The post is under a cut due to Tevinter Nights spoilers (and length).

Global events

- There is a war between the Qunari and Tevinter.

- Three branches of the Qun do not agree with each other. The Antaam, the military branch of the Qun, attacked Ventus and continued the invasion without the permission of the other two. It results in faster progress of the invasion as the other two branches were a moderating influence on the Antaam. The Ben-Hassrath holds a neutral position.

- In Tevinter, the Venatori are still a problem.

- Smaller countries like Rivain and Antiva are under serious threat of the Qunari’s invasion.

- The heads of the Antivan Crows, eight Talons, held a meeting to join their forces, protect Antiva, and withstand the Qunari's invasion. The meeting was disrupted, and four out of eight Talons were murdered. New heads of the Crows will be chosen soon.

- The king of Nevarra is on the brink of death. The Mortalitasi, who have always had great power in Nevarra, continue to interfere in politics.

- All the Grey Wardens were summoned to Weisshaupt.

- We were introduced to a considerable amount of characters from the guild of treasure hunters, the Lords of Fortune.

- Regarding the Inquisition, little is known. All external issues of the organization seem to be handled by Varric Tethras. He gives quests, monitors their implementation, hires new people.

- One of the Executors, or ‘those across the sea’, showed up in the flesh. Solas said they are particularly dangerous and cautioned against interacting with them.

- By now, many have heard rumours of the Fen’Harel’s cult.

Minrathous

- A demon or something far worse is imprisoned under Minrathous. With the help of the Venatori, it is now unsealed (will probably be sealed again later). Yet, to awake it, some blood-magic ritual must be performed.

- The creature was sealed with eight blood-bonded enchanted clay disks. They showed a long and thin four-winged dragon rising from the dark waters.

- It is said that ‘demon’ is not the best word to describe this creature. It is something ancient and mighty, unnamed, something that will subject to god only.

- This ‘demon’ was a part of Corypheus’ plan of making Tevinter great again. According to this plan, Minrathous was to become the cradle of the new world. If Minrathous had not surrendered to Corypheus, the ‘demon’ would have left the city no choice.

- Most of the population of Minrathous could have perished as a result of this creature awakening.

- Enchanted predators and monsters resulting from magical experiments seem to be common in Minrathous.

Elven experiments

- In Nevarra, under a mountain with three asymmetric peaks wrapped around each other, there is a dwarven thaig. This thaig is called Hormak, and it was lost to the darkspawn hundreds of years ago.

- In Hormak, Grey Wardens have found elven halls, where experiments on living were conducted. And it is quite lively in these halls now.

- There is a huge pool with a greyish fluid that reeks of brine. It creates hybrids.

- There were different types of hybrids: darkspawn with other darkspawn, animals with other animals, darkspawn with animals, and even a centipede and a Grey Warden hybrid.

- When a hurlock stepped in the greyish fluid, it was enveloped and then transformed into a drake and a hurlock hybrid.

- The transformed Grey Warden said that the fluid affects ‘them’ (sentient races?) differently. To be transformed, it is not enough to touch it. The fluid should get inside the body.

- All over the place were large repetitive bas-reliefs depicting ancient elven. There were three types of them. The first one showed majestic elven kings and queens with reverent supplicants. The second one showed elven mages healing sick. The third showed big aravels, drawn by herds of hallas, going to distant mountains (one of the mountains had three peaks wrapped around each other).

- Later, those bas-reliefs were described differently. On the first one, elven rulers were arrogant and despised their subjects, who seemed to be in great terror. On the second one, mages weren’t healing sick, but on the contrary, they were injecting corruption into bodies. On the third, a halla had a strange rounded body and very long and ridged horns, and an aravel had bars on its windows, which made it look like a cage.

- Somewhere at the entrance of the halls was one more type of repetitive bas-reliefs. It showed three figures: a supplicant, a priestess, and a monster. On each subsequent bas-relief, a supplicant and a monster were different, while the priestess remained the same. It seemed that with each subsequent bas-relief, her grin grew wider.

- The experiments are directed by some will, which is referred to as a female. ‘She’ is not yet there, ‘they’ are waiting for ‘her’.

- Symbols of horns of a halla are present on each column in the halls.

- According to bas-reliefs, there are twelve such places in total.

The Inquisition members and allies

For completeness, this part should have included information from the comic, but I tried to avoid that.

- According to Tevinter Nights, Varric and Charter remained in the ranks of the Inquisition.

- Charter mentions her lover, Tessa.

- Vaea and ser Aaron show up but without a clear relation to the Inquisition.

- There are two mages, Vadis and Irian, who saved a peaceful Qunari settlement called Kont-aar from an agent of Fen'Harel, thus keeping the chance of subtle peace between the Ben-Hassrath and Tevinter. The Ben-Hassrath returned the favour by directing said mages to Kirkwall, to a certain dwarf, where they intend to go after seeing Val Royeaux.

- Sutherland and Company are still loyal to the ideals of the Inquisition.

- Quentin Calla, who was a bearer of the enchanted clay disk for a while, provided the Inquisition with some information.

- Philliam, a Bard!, (formerly) Sister Laudine, and Brother Ferdinand Genitivi, with the help of the Lord of the Fortune, Mateo, accepted and completed the quest from the Inquisition.

Fen’Harel and the red lyrium idol

- The red lyrium idol's adventures ended. It is now in Solas' hands, or at least he says so.

- There are three descriptions of the red lyrium idol's appearance. The first one, made by the dwarf, the Carta assassin: two figures, too thin to be dwarves, caressing each other. The second one, by Mortalitasi: two lovers or a god mourning the sacrifice. The third, by Solas: crowned figure comforting another one. (Note: I remind you these are not exact quotes but a translation of the translation, and nuances might have been lost.)

- Some qualities of the idol: red lyrium weighs more than the usual one; the idol is liquid inside; it reacts to other lyrium.

- The idol created or revealed a ritual blade.

- Solas calls the idol his.

- The Mortalitasi recounted the events in the Fade in which Solas took a form of a giant wolf the size of a high dragon. He had burning eyes like those of a pride demon and wings of fire which later resolved themselves into lesser demons. The Fade is called his natural home, and it is said spirits serve him gladly.

- Solas pays special attention to the actions of the Inquisition.

- Members of Fen'Harel's cult would rather die than be captured.

- The ritual the Dread Wolf performs already affects the Fade.

Random interesting facts

- The Qunari slowly cut down a part of the Arlathan Forest.

- The Ben-Hassrath are said to know the most about Solas’ actions.

- Among four killed Talons was Giuli Arainai, Eighth Talon, and this might be a good time for Zevran to show up somehow.

- There was a lyrium crystal that produced a light with shades of green and yellow in Hormak.

- Dorian no longer has slaves, only hired labourers.

- Josephine sent Dorian some good Antivan wine. :)

- Vaea now possesses a healing artefact, which seems to be able to heal anything except death.

- There is an example of a dwarven metal prosthetic of a leg, which does not seem to restrict movement in any way.

Since I’ve read Tevinter Nights after the last Dragon Age Day... - Evka became a Grey Warden and did rescue the next one!

- The hunger demon that turned a person into a werewolf in the village called Eichweill was not completely defeated.

- It seems those elven artefacts do strengthen the Veil, after all.

- The Randy Dowager is Ferdinand Genitivi. Five scarves fluttered in shock out of five.

⠀

This is all for Tevinter Nights for now. I did not include plenty of curious facts, probably enough for another post. I hope you enjoyed it anyway!

If you have any corrections regarding facts, or grammar, etc., don’t hesitate to DM me! Or you may leave a comment in my ask box if you want to stay anonymous.

Thank you for the attention, and have a nice day!

[therealjanejackson]

Heres a bunch more thoughts. Some of them are in line with my previous thoughts, many of them are contrary. Warning for being really quite long. More under cut.

I am warming up slightly more to the idea that Belos is just a one note villain, honestly it was my original interpretation of the character before we ever heard from Philip anyway, I just saw Philip, went “that’s definitely Belos”, and Philip seemed like a good boy and I thought that was an interesting angle. Not to mention, I mean, not to make a mountain out of a molehill but just how ridiculously queer they both seem, I really kinda thought they would subvert the queer coded villain thing and make it about generational trauma and repression and internalised whateverphobia and hfff. Anyway. Homing in on the old interpretation of Belos that existed before Philip. It’s honestly moreso the way Philip could turn out that annoys me. Like I said, I have a strong distaste for stories where “shadowed” younger siblings are depicted as selfish villains for not being okay with being forgotten in favour of their siblings, and surprise surprise, my older sister hates it too! I liked in guardians of the galaxy when Gamora hugged nebula and apologized. But besides that point, I’ve been thinking about it, and I guess the bottom line is I will be okay with any story line they push for Belos so long as they say something about abuse that atla didn’t.

Weirdly specific take, I know. But genuinely, for years, for as long as I can remember, atla and Zukos storyline has been the be all end all of child abuse in animated television, right? In kids media? It’s one of the key reasons everyone immediately jumped to compare Hunter to Zuko. What other animated show aimed at kids can you even think of that covers this topic. I personally can’t. And atla is great but… the abuse story isn’t even really all that complex. I’m not saying it’s bad but you know, ozai is an out and out dick who is completely humourless, never shows his kids affection, hurts them and humiliates them, makes them perform tasks for adults and is never, at any point, shown to have a personal relationship with them. Zukos primary hurdle to get over is the idea that he can somehow win his fathers love and respect by being perfect, and accepting the fact that it’s never gonna happen. Zuko doesn’t lose anything from this revelation: he never had a relationship with his father to begin with. I think it’s great that they had Zuko shoot lightning at his dad and throw him in jail at a time when most television pushed an idea that children should forgive their abusive parents on good faith alone and not only discussed the idea that just because someone is your parent doesn’t mean they love or want what’s best for you, but also showed that just because Azula was favoured doesn’t mean she was valued or loved or had it easy…. But it’s been fourteen years, and I think it’s genuinely sad that no one has had anything new to say about abusive families in that time save for encanto which came out literally a couple months ago.

If I’m honest, the new thing about abuse that I thought/wanted owl house to say, back when I just saw Belos as a horrible manipulative old man who might take advantage of Hunter in any conceivable way, was that the pressure to get out of his situation… shouldn’t all be on Hunter. Back then I was terrified of Belos, and I remember sending one of my friends who didn’t even watch the show yet a lengthy write up about how I was hoping Luz and Amity and Eda would open their eyes and see that the boy needs help, and that I was a little sick of stories where the abuse victim is expected to find the strength inside themselves to cry out for help, and god forbid someone on the outside ever put pieces together and reach out to Hunter first. I still maintain that: I kind of think more of the adults who Hunter encounters should be held accountable for complicity in his abuse, or at least face some sort of remorse for their lack of attention to what could easily be sniffed out as a huge fucking problem. I mean come on, we know from hunting palismen hunter doesn’t walk around the palace with his mask on twenty four seven, you expect me to accept that no one who lives/works there has ever wondered if that scar on his face was really from a mission, or if it was from his brusque, critical and petrification-happy uncle? I digress, I would be just as happy to see Hunter discuss his situation with Luz and/or Amity, and then see Luz struggle with figuring out what the best thing to do to help Hunter is.

Then, of course, we got more appearances from Belos and Philip (not to mention the statue of the man who is presumably Hunters father), and I started to think, “oh, he’s just a repressed queer person, they’re gonna give him a sad religious trauma backstory that he’s projecting onto Hunter, it’s gonna be about generational trauma, he probably won’t get redeemed but he’s not like this for funsies.” Furthermore, Zuko may not have a relationship with his abusive parental figure, but Hunter surely does. Honestly, we see pretty fucking frequently Hunter loves the shit out of Belos. I know we haven’t seen a ton of their interactions but I still kind of feel like Hunter must have some pleasant memories of his uncle to feel that strong a connection to him, and I know Belos is being a manipulative piece of shit at the beginning of eclipse lake but there’s something about the casual teasing and touching in that scene that kind of makes me feel like when Belos is at his best they might have a… playful sort of relationship. Don’t worry, it’s not lost on me that those things come from Belos and are under his control, it’s just a note. What I mean to say is, unlike Zuko, Hunter has something to lose, and that’s someone in his life that he loves very, very much. Through Hunters eyes, I started to see Belos less as a monster and more as a man, one who might have his own trauma and pain, and thinking back to my own childhood friends who experienced abuse, and what their primary struggles were, I had this thought on a different new thing owl house could say about abuse that would make me very, very happy indeed: that just because your abusive parent is struggling, just because your abusive parent is in pain, just because you have happy times with them, just because your abusive parent is traumatised, ill, addicted, trying their best, wants you or needs you or even loves you, that STILL doesn’t mean you owe them anything, that still doesn’t make them the best person to raise you, that still doesn’t make you safe with them because they mean well deep down or whatever.

But it might mean you can see them again someday. If you want to.

This is getting away from me. I’m supposed to be homing in on the old interpretation of Belos, not waxing poetic about the sympathetic one, but this is an interpretation that I have to admit I got ridiculously attached to, ridiculously quickly. Not that Belos would be redeemed- redemption implies forgiveness, and his actions can never be forgiven- or that he somehow avoid facing harsh consequences for his actions. I wanted him to have consequences, I wanted him to face every harsh reality of his actions with all the resignation and hopelessness you’d expect from a 400 year old, I wanted the people of the boiling isles to tear him to shreds, I wanted him to be expelled from the island, I wanted Eda to get custody of Hunter, I wanted him to have to kick his palismen juice habit all on his own, hell I wanted the ghost of his stupid brother to pop up and go “I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed.” I wanted him to somehow find a rockier bottom then being dethroned and exiled and I wanted him to hit it more than once.

But that all this would happen with the understanding that maybe, in his own way, he could move on from all this too, as the boiling isles will surely move on, as Hunter will move on, and that if the two of them happened to cross paths again someday… who knows. Might give some kids hope that coming forward about their situation doesn’t mean they’ll lose someone they love permanently.

Fat. Bloody. Chance. An inkling of hope for this clown, clearly, was too much to ask for. I genuinely thought yknow, theyre not gonna kill the guy because that’d be pretty shitty what with his relationship with palismen that I love to bring up oh so much but seriously it’s a huge thing for me and I’m honestly surprised the fandom doesn’t give it all that much attention, and they’re not gonna throw him in the conformatorium, funny as it would be, because there’s no way the place isn’t gonna be abolished when he’s not in power anymore. Besides, I kind of have a feeling discovering other Titan islands is gonna play into the plot at some point, him being exiled was the natural choice to me. Sure, strip him of his magic aids or whatever, but without his precious Day Of Unity and his Grimwalker there’s really no reason to believe he’d just get started up again somewhere else, you’ve gotta let him move on. Now though??? I really don’t know what they’re gonna do with him. I feel like even if they introduce more complexity into his character I feel like “Philip used to regularly trick innocent witches to their death, sometimes as literal sacrifices, and showed no remorse or anxiety about it literally at all” is not a, I don’t think there’s any coming back from that.

I guess I’ll be okay with it if the only new thing owl House says about abuse is that sometimes, people can seem like they care, a lot like they care, even if they don’t… I don’t know though, is that super new? Feel like I’ve heard that one before.

But even if I swallow all that and, as I originally planned with this post, home back in on that cruel, manipulative, heartless abuser I once believed Belos to be and get used to the fact that I was right the first time and there are no pleasant surprises of moral complexity here…. I still don’t want him to die. Sorry. I can’t do it. And it’s not because I think he deserves to live and suffer, that death would be too gentle a fate, or that I’m scared they’ll do the “sacrifices themselves at the last minute and gets redeemed without consequences” trope. It’s because I…. Well, I don’t think that’s what kids watching who relate to Hunter are gonna want to see. That’s all I’ll say.

This…. Ended up being a different post then I thought it would be. Maybe I’ll make a part two where I ACTUALLY home in on the darker version of Belos. But this post is already hugely long so yeah, I think I gotta just post it.

[stopeatingwhales]

about a girl (pt.2) x kurt cobain

hi guys :) so sorry for my inactivity, but i’m here finally lmaoo, this is a part two to my kurt fic that i wrote about a month ago, due to school its been much harder for me to keep up writing as usual, but i will absolutely try my best to finish your guys’ requests soon! anyways, hope you enjoy this <3 Pairing: pre-bleach era kurt x reader

Warnings: nothing :)

Word count: 2.167

Requested by anon (the second part was my idea, but i felt like i should still credit the anon for giving me the idea for this x) 

༉‧₊˚✧

The wind exhales short, breezy waves as you lay there, engulfed in your dreams. From the night succeeding to your outstanding performance, you were requited to a favourable hibernation which by admiring you, was needed for not only the sum of a few hours. Your solemn features are painted still, the only movement stimulating from your body is heavy breaths accompanied by a light snore from time to time. I question whether it's righteous of me to allow my eyes to adorn themselves in your serene features, yet I simply cannot stop myself. I find it surreal to witness you in such fragility; for all the pain and sorrow you’ve had to experience in your life, it’s almost like you shouldn’t be sleeping in such a tranquillic state. I wonder if you prefer sleeping than being awake, I wonder if you think it’s a chore to get out of bed. Does the world haunt you? Every click, flash, snap of a camera, does it devastate you? The image you portray to the world is magnificent, yet flawed. It’s almost as if you’re hiding something, yet you don’t care what others think of you, so you do whatever you please. My heart skips a beat every time you shift slightly, cradling your body in the duvet. I advert my stare to your arms, sculpted perfectly in God’s chamber, the lankiness of your bones withering an appearance of discrepancy. You’re not like the rest of them. Your steady breaths softly ease in and out of your flawless torso, your hair so impeccable it looks untouched even when you’re shifting around in your slumber - the hair you willingly dyed and strained with a flavoured drink mix. As I admire you, sleeping beauty, it reminds me of how lucky I am to have you in my life - regardless of where we stand. When you’re awake, you’re the only thing keeping me sane during the day; spending even just a day without you would feel as if I had lost my legs, lost what’s kept me steady for all these draining years. In all my time of knowing and understanding you, have you never not known what to say, for you have such a way with words, it's unfathomable. You carry a sort of intelligence that no one can seem to obtain; you speak words out of a bible and it’s ironic I say that, Mr ‘God is gay’, but it’s true. You’re the reason I wake up in the morning. You’re like a hard candy, sweet and delicate, although the texture is very hard making it a burden to get through to you. I want to taste you on my tongue every morning, if you would like me to be honest. I crave for things as little as your scent even before I’ve risen from the cushion. Your grace must be envied by the heavens; there is and will never be anyone as alluring as you, not that I’m surprised. 

As my eyes continue to wander on him, a sudden stretch of his arms and a small groan echoing out of his vocal chords results in my body almost instantaneously sitting up. I watch him as he blinks his eyes a few times, his vision still not clear enough. “Good morning,” he whispers, his arms thrown to the skies; he’s like a baby, reaching out for their mother in the early hours of daylight, moaning and whining for affection, warming my heart with soreful ease. Quickly taking note of the small clock situated beside him that I was aware of for the many hours I had been trapped in thought, it read a bright and early 11am. My stare continues to linger onto him as I watch him shifting around, the heart situated in my upper chest now beating as fast as drum solos in heavy metal songs. A short silence stood in between both presences; I assume that he hadn’t taken note of my pondering state adjacent to him, though was that idea contradicted by his light greeting. “Did you sleep well?” he chirps, now using both palms to rub his what-seemed-like itchy eyes.

Now what is humorous from this scenario is that he asks this as if it means nothing; a simple conversation starter it may be, though, to me it means so much more hearing those light words roll off his tongue, compared to if someone else had said it, even if it was in the exact same moment living right now. A whiff of bad breath hits my face as I laugh lightly, shaking my head in a sort of admiration towards the man lying down ahead of me. He again blinks a few times, now in attempt to adjust the bright scenery to his view. For a couple seconds the room is frozen, Kurt’s alteration in position to sitting up becoming the only sound ringing through both our ears. As I find my gaze glued onto him once again, I subconsciously repeat the question he asked me, this time directed for him. However, from what I’ve seen, I’m certain he slept wonderfully.

A tired chuckle escaped his mouth. “I asked you first,” he mutters, the morning rasp still prominent in his vocal chords. This makes me smile. The raw, genuinity forwards the idea of realism that this moment was actually happening, coming like a pinch snapping someone out of their daydream, though my thoughts will never be known to understand how I was able to spend time with such a man. “I slept well, though.” he adds, a warm smile playing on his lips. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” I answered, my face now being cradled by my palms. 

I now feel the stare of Kurt burn onto my face. “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he asks, a hint of annoyance laced in his words. “We could’ve stayed up together,” 

A small chuckle breezes out of my nose. How considerate, how caring must you be to, even when you have performed such an exasperating gig, stay awake with me because of one night of my mind’s continuous ambles? For all I know, Kurt wouldn’t sleep for days if it meant I would be in absolute glee. It’s those sorts of traits in those who are lost which draw you towards them becoming the significant other to stay with for life. It’s that sense of attachment, connection you hold with someone, so strong that you would give up the roof over your head if it meant a smile to be drawn on their face. ”You looked so peaceful in your sleep,” I replied, staring directly into his loveable eyes, the shade of blue brightening as the sunlight melted onto his face. His hair was now a little more messier compared to how it was less than ten minutes ago, and the urge of me running my fingers through his golden locks only seemed to grow even more as time passed on. For a moment I decided to hold back my words, inhaling sharply to gain composure to my fatigued state. “I didn’t want to disturb you,” 

Kurt sighed - knowing that he needed sleep more than anything, though a hint of sadness dwindled in his stomach, his mind conflicted from the idea of me drowning in worry as I tended to do when I couldn’t sleep. Reaching his arm towards the table sat beside him, his fingers got lost in between the opened packet of cigarettes that slept reverently on the white wood, grabbing a random one at choice before placing it in a loose grip between his lips. With the known information that you need a torch to light a cigarette, I threw the one I had on his lap, a small laugh escaping my lips for no apparent reason. Actually no, there was a reason. “Who the fuck smokes first thing in the morning?”

Before he torched the lighter, he stopped, his piercing blue eyes locking in contact with mine. “Me, I do,” 

Another laugh tempted to flee itself from my throat, yet I held it back. If you would’ve said that to me the first night I met you, in that small, cramped room, littered with amps that Krist had dragged me into going in to listen to your material, I would’ve scoffed at your blown attitude towards such a random question. Watching you now as you’re admiring the cancer stick with pure attachment, my mind begins to wander over such a topic. I look at you and see a troubled, young kid who just wants love and affection because he seemingly never got enough from the people who designed his childhood; for you haven’t grown up since then. Perhaps in size and features, yes (and definitely the fact that children do not smoke), but hidden inside you is the same boy that was hidden away all those years ago - following onto your parents’ divorce. You say you’ve never been happy since then, you’ve never been able to think optimistically, and maybe you haven’t. Maybe the smile you give to me isn’t genuine; with continuous assurance I’ll consider it to be. Maybe I’ll never heal those bruises that were once your only source of living, and that’s okay, if you’re able to cope with the imprints. If you’re the Kurt Cobain that prefers smoking than having a normal breakfast, so be it; I’d give up my heart for you, and if anything, you’ve already stolen it. Words merely brush the surface of my adoration for you, and sometimes I believe that I’m just lying to myself, that nothing I’m saying in my head is true. Yet, as every minute, every second passes throughout the day, even in silent, contented situations with ceilings bright as yellow from the smoke like these, everything I say to myself simply strengthens in morality. My sweet, you deserve more than one could wish for. You deserve things that this world cannot give you, yet all you believe is that you are worthless. If only you saw yourself in my eyes, maybe then you’d realise, realise the impact you’ve sincerely doused onto me and my mind, you’ve got the moves to empower a generation and perhaps hundreds more - even if you don’t see that yet. 

“Give me one,” He hands me one, the strong gusts of cloud escaping his mouth creating a want for the rough substance to coat my throat in brutal ways; even if it’s slowly murdering me. It was a murderous addiction, nicotine, yet it kills us all, our addictions; and we are too blinded by the goodness it seemingly overshadows what we force to neglect in our minds - the bad in it all. We become so unbelievably enthralled by the pain we choose to accept it; we believe it is favourable, not disastrous and catastrophic. Drugs are frowned upon dearly, as they should be, but once you’re stuck, it takes more than simple courage to escape out of the deadly grip it chokes you in. Placing the cigarette in between my lips, identical to how he had just done, I reached my arm out to obtain the lighter that was in my clutch merely seconds ago, swiftly lighting it with one hand. As I breathed out the first tar-filled cloud from my cigar, I fixed my gaze onto him once again, sucking in my top lip as I allowed the droplets of ash fall onto my shirt. “I know I always say this,” I began as I studied his features, trying to identify any solemn, unpleasant emotions, noticing that there was none at all for the time being. “You’re going to make it big one day, I’m now for certain you’re going to take over the world,”

His eyes now locked into mine, a short chuckle leaving his throat as he blew out an even bigger gust of smoke. “I don’t want that,” 

Smiling, I took hold of my cigarette and inhaled deeply, holding it in my mouth until my body was unable to carry on without oxygen for longer - not that the air in the room was even oxygen; it was more corrosive chemicals than anything else, yet we’ve become so dependant on a small roll of tobacco to guide us to a path of slow death, its unnoticable. I watched as Kurt’s eyes drifted on to admire the elusive sunlight gleaming through the window, the whiffs of grey contrasting the happiness that was attempting to journey itself into the silent room. No matter how many times I may tell, his belief that he will never be as big as acts like the Sex Pistols will empower over anything I endevour on to phrase. It was inevitable though, whether he dreamt of it or not, that they will be big, bigger than anything they’ve ever seen. The path bridging onto it may cause destruction, heartbreak, and even more addiction, but the future is never in our hands - only until it is close enough for the present to capture it. Time is simply a mantelpiece, the light eventually burns out when there’s not enough coal to keep it going. You continue to refill it as the days go by until you simply cannot any longer, which is what all youths fear and avoid. Surprisingly enough, Kurt wasn’t one of the many crowds in devastating apprehension; he wanted to burn out more than anything else, for there were only small things keeping him going, or perhaps he was waiting for a longer, more agonizing death, hence the many packets of cigarettes vanished in a day.

There was nothing left to say in the room; there was no need for a response - it was only going to result in the same bicker as it resulted in many a time. The room, now physically undergoing a change in colour from the smoke, held a significant ambience, one so serene it left you more relaxed than the aftermath of a crazy high in drug use, though sometimes the relaxation is more pain than anything else. Even when my mind was so consumed in ideation earlier in the morning, my thoughts were louder than ever in this given moment. My mind was mulled over the concept of Kurt and stardom. He would never like it, nor does he even want it. It’s humorous to an extent; how much authenticity can one acclaim, to not even look up to the sugar-coated concept called ‘fame’? You’re not like the others. You don’t want fame, you want to create music. And in all honesty, I wish I lie through my teeth whenever I mumble those encouraging words of how you’re going to make it big; I can’t stand the idea of losing you, but like I said, it's inevitable, one day simple moments like these will just be memories to look back on when you’re old and laughing about your previous attachment to drugs. Maybe you won’t look back on times like these however, maybe you’ll remember the more vivid, buzzing moments like your first gig as Nirvana, and maybe I won’t remember this either, maybe these moments aren’t to be remembered, to be lived in instead. If only you knew how much I loved you, would you be surprised that I haven’t ruined my life because of it. You mean more to me than the stars mean to the night sky, more than a memory means to a person’s mind. It hurts my heart knowing I can’t heal you, though I dream that one day, you’ll wake up, just like you did today, turn to me and say, ‘I’m happy,’ because that’s all I ever dream of you to be.

[zenalios]

Untamed Seas; 5 - Shadowed

Index (R18+)

Summary

Amphitrite, sea goddess, and daughter of Nereus, is less than willing to marry an Olympian, let alone Poseidon, the very god who overthrew her father. She does so nevertheless, in a desperate move to protect her sisters following Nereus’ absence.

The marriage is beneficial to them both: Poseidon gains legitimacy through a union with her, effectively solidifying his control over the seas, and Amphitrite guarantees her sisters' safety, along with all prestige due her status as queen.

The catch? She finds his domineering personality utterly insufferable, and he, the most fearsome god, resents being stuffed into an unwelcome marriage.

They have all eternity to make it work.

TW // Abuse - Verbal and Physical ; Abusive Relationship ; Forced Marriage

The time had come for the bride’s veil to be removed. Having thoroughly showered the new queen in a flood of fruits and nuts to symbolize fertility and prosperity, along with whispered well wishes, the wedding guests and servants hastily filed out of the throne room. 

It was then that Amphitrite, daughter of the sea god Nereus and river nymph Doris, was left amidst the mess, with but a single dolphin as the goddess’s escort to the bridal chamber. 

Her heels were sore from standing nearly the entire duration of the feast at Olympus greeting her new in-laws, a wild frenzy which had flown by without any opportunity for her to savour the occasion and her last moments of freedom. This made her rather grateful for the brief respite the palace denizens had granted her in the form of peace and quiet. 

Now was a good time to shake out a few nuts from the folds of her skirt, and sweep away into her palm some dried fruits, the latter of which she did not discard, but furtively snuck into her mouth —not that she was hungry, she merely needed something to gnaw at and ease her misery.

“This way, Your Majesty.”

Amphitrite raised her eyebrows, still chewing. Had the creature bowed any lower, it would have tilted over and performed a front flip through the water. The mere thought of it alone caused her to accidentally bite down on her tongue. The bitter taste of ichor briefly filled her mouth; it did not mix well with the dried fruits she had just consumed. At this, her chest heaved. She put a fist to her mouth, another hand cradling her abdomen. She rather wished her stomach would give up its contents. 

Maybe she wouldn’t have to meet him then. 

Curses, the dolphin had raised its head. The goddess forced her shoulders to relax and unclenched her jaw, staring out into the abyssal hallway ahead. Breathe, she reminded herself. Three deep breaths and a very slow exhale later, however, and she still wasn’t ready. “Your Majesty?” The dolphin’s voice echoed.

“Just—" Amphitrite held up her hand, turning away from the poor beast as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just give me a moment.”

“Ah, yes Your Majesty!”

She tried to think of other things instead. Like how Erato had cried upon seeing her once more, how the rest of her sisters had bid her farewell as her wedding procession departed for Olympus, their precious tears glistening against the dancing twilight sky, how many gifts her new subjects had eagerly pressed into her hands as they slowly followed after her chariot, shuffling behind her in droves every step of the way to the ocean’s depths, how thoughtful it had been of Hera, Hestia, and Demeter to decorate the wedding halls with deep blue corals in her preferred colour as opposed to gold the shade of her newly-wed husband’s… hair.

The hand she had raised fell to her side. Poseidon. Her husband. 

Amphitrite straightened. 

As if she was not miserable enough, the reminder of who it was she had married, and what exactly he had not done, only infuriated her all the more. Granted, she now knew the marriage was also against his wishes —something Demeter had accidentally revealed at the feast —but he had not even been in attendance, had refused to dignify, and accordingly, acknowledge her, and remained so even upon her arrival at his palace. Poseidon had not appeared throughout the entire ceremony at all. Instead, some upstart nymphs were charged with bringing her to the throne room’s hearth, their numbers barely enough. It was a far cry from the utmost care and attention her new sisters-in-law had put into hosting the elaborate feast held prior to her departure. 

What really grated at her, however, was that Zeus had travelled to Oceanus in the form of a dolphin to pressure her into this marriage, and now she was still being led by one to consummate it. 

Call her stupid for attending that party and gaining her fellow gods’ attentions, but how could a simple nymph like her have expected that the most lecherous member of the triumvirate would go against his word and actually attend. It was supposed to have been a simple affair on an island hosted by Amaltheia and other minor gods, her sisters and herself attending in their missing father’s stead, without the king of gods present, without leading to her being chased, no, hunted down, to her grandfather’s waters, without her sister being taken hostage in exchange for her agreement.

Only a digging sensation in her palms made her aware of how tight she had squeezed her trembling fists. Now released, they left little red crescents where her nails had been. She stared at the imprints a little longer, as if they could tell her who the exact source of her misfortune had been, or what, even, this particular emotion was supposed to be.

The dolphin started as Amphitrite cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry.” She said awkwardly, shooting the creature a quick smile that dropped without even meeting her eyes. Her body was still quivering from the adrenaline that pumped through her unsteady heart. She inhaled deeply once more as she readjusted her veil and allowed the air to slowly slip through her lips.

“Let’s go.”

The passage itself felt suffocating. Though the three Olympian goddesses had painstakingly redecorated Poseidon’s palace to welcome its new mistress, and in accordance with her tastes as well, it still did not change the fact that the goddess herself remained uneager to meet her new husband, let alone be his wife.

At first her escort swam immediately beside her short of grasping her arm, as if fearing her dragging pace meant she planned to vanish midway on their little journey to her husband’s quarters. If only she could. Perhaps it worried she would stall for more time, and delay the ceremony so as to invoke the sea king’s wrath, as to be expected from someone who behaved as though the world revolved around him; this was most likely the case, she realised. 

Though Amphitrite had yet to meet Poseidon himself —again, she bore absolutely no inclination whatsoever to consort with someone who had ousted her father, and she could not guarantee that she would not slap him upon making his acquaintance— rumour was it that he lived and breathed the concept of “perfection”. They even went so far as to call him a “god among gods”.

Was it any wonder, then, that her arrival had been more lacklustre than her own family's welcome for a new maidservant? Such a vain god expected time and the world to stop for him, even when he himself would not stop for others. Like father, like son, she thought with distaste. She had already met Zeus, and he was bad enough. Unfortunately, such a god had now become her husband, and she would have to live with it for all eternity. 

Small wonder then, that her sisters-in-law had tried their best to ensure a grand festival on her side; they must have known things would fail miserably on her husband’s end. 

Amphitrite blinked. The dolphin was now a short way ahead of her in the passage. Did I stop? She couldn’t recall having done so since they had left the throne room and the rest behind.

“It’s alright, Your Majesty.” It spoke before she had the chance to ask. “You will be good for him.” This time, her footsteps did grind to a halt. Amphitrite stared at the creature in disbelief. 

“Really.” She noted sarcastically. It was true. She was doing Poseidon a favour, not the other way round.

A minute later the dolphin gasped, as though it had committed some unspoken cardinal sin —really, she could not tell what swam through that sleek grey head, or what the creature was overreacting to. “My apologies for speaking to you without permission.” Oh. So that was why. She nodded .

“Er- Your Majesty,” it hastily added, only adding to her bemused state. What a shame her thoughts of Poseidon had stifled any laughter that might have bubbled. Nevertheless, she could still afford a smile, this one more genuine than the last; now she allowed it to reach her eyes, and it stayed even as her chest grew tight.

“Is that so.” Were those words the truth or merely what the creature thought she wanted to hear? Amphitrite scrutinized the dolphin for a moment, before shaking her head, “I’m sorry.”

At this, the dolphin shot her a quizzical look. She supposed it was not used to being on the receiving end of an apology, least of all from a god, considering just who it was the creature served.

As she opened her mouth to explain, an afterthought struck her from the shadows cast over dim light. Surely it had been a figment of her imagination? Upon second glance at her shape and the dolphin’s streamlined figure flickering against the wall, the bend of a strategically-placed vase curved to reveal the edge of a twitching tail. One that could not possibly belong to her, for she had never possessed a tail, nor the dolphin, whose fins were smooth and sleek —everything this one was not. The longer she stared, the more apparent it soon became to Amphitrite that more tails lay in other similarly inconspicuous locations, each a foreign presence to her. 

The young queen now swallowed whatever thoughts she initially possessed of confiding her feelings in the creature. Perhaps she should not even have apologized to begin with. After all, the creature served Poseidon himself, and so did the many pairs of eyes watching her still. And if they all served him, did that not mean they were defectors who had betrayed the memory of her father? 

Feeling exposed, she tugged the veil forward to cover her bare arms. It all made sense to her now, she thought miserably. The nymphs that greeted her upon arrival now lay hidden to scorn the daughter of their previous king, their previously whispered words carrying not blessings but ill-wishes. The same sense of grief that had struck her upon departure from her sisters washed over her anew: the realisation that she was well and truly alone in this palace.

Amphitrite grit her teeth, willing herself to endure their stares. “It’s nothing.” In truth, the bridal chamber was not so far away, the greater distance completed when she was escorted to the throne room itself. From there onwards, it was merely a simple trip into the heart of the palace. However, it was still larger than her father’s grotto, and far more stifling owing to the expectant audience that surrounded her. 

By the time Amphitrite’s thoughts ground to a halt alongside her own footsteps, the newly-wed bride was utterly dour.

Her escort swam forward, rapping once, then twice, on a looming pair of golden doors. “Her Majesty has arrived.” There was no response. Amphitrite’s scornful frown deepened. Just a cubit away, her ears picked up on chittering from the hidden nymphs. The dolphin cleared its throat. It knocked again, speaking louder this time, “Her Majesty has come for the night.” Amphitrite folded her arms, glancing upwards with an impatient huff; still no answer. 

As a result, more whispers were thrown in her direction, wearing Amphitrite’s nerves dangerously thin. Either they knew that she knew they were there, and simply did not care, or they remained blissfully unaware of the fact that their voices had increased in volume, so revealing their presence to her.

Growing up Nereus’s firstborn, the new sea queen was used to being stared at by the multitude, had practically been raised to ignore their presence as she carried about her business. It was the only reason she had been able to cope up till now. But now, their voices were an extremely unwelcome addition in this smothering hallway —her skin crawled with every murmur and response, that even the silk veil placed over her hair tugged at each follicle, further weighing her scalp down with every turn and swish. Her nails bit down on her arms in a desperate attempt to prevent herself from being overwhelmed. 

It was the lowest moment of her life after her father’s disappearance, and these upstarts had come all the way to watch her, to laugh at her suffering.

“You’re a goddess now.”  Hestia said earlier that morning during the nuptial bath as Amphitrite was being scrubbed down, “I believe you will be a good one.” Sorry, Hestia, a small voice within her apologised, though Amphitrite herself remained unsure what exactly for.

The next time she heard another sound, the sea queen whirled towards that particular column. 

“Enough!” She snapped viciously. 

One stamp, and the maiden was sent hurtling against the opposite wall with a loud thump. 

The only relief such an act of violence brought was release and a small sense of satisfaction as the rest began to scatter away; deep down, she felt sick to her stomach at the way the girl had hit her head, now limp and unmoving. 

Only two nymphs lingered behind, hesitating as to whether they should save themselves first or leave their friend to her demise. They flinched when she turned to them. 

“Take her and go.” She ground out, waving her hand at the offending nymph. At once, the pair sprung into action, one hurrying forward to grab the girl, the other looping a limp arm around her. Both hastily bowed as they retreated.

Amphitrite released a shaky breath. 

Now that the nymphs were truly gone, the goddess was forced to face the extent of her actions. She needn’t have gone that far when a simple “Begone!” would have sufficed to send them scurrying. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her escort raise a trembling flipper to knock once more. 

A pang of regret shot through her chest. It was something she imagined only Poseidon would do, and now she had stooped to his level too. 

The dolphin’s attempt was met with a hand. This unwanted marriage deserved no such pomp and circumstance: if the groom himself did not care for it, then neither would she. “Enough,” The bride spoke firmly, a trace of bitterness creeping into her words. She tentatively pushed at the door —and winced.

A sudden stream of golden light burst through the darkness.

“I can do it myself."

4 - Enalios, β ; 6 - Brine

[desi-lgbt-fest]

Day 5: Platonic

A story I wrote for today's prompt. It's a story about two middle aged men realising the happiness they want can come in many different forms.

1. 8 k words.

Cw: Mild homophobia. Incorrect language. It's indicative of character's understanding, not mine.

...

When Vikram Kumar first transferred to their branch, Nath wasn't impressed. Theirs was a small transport company, still somehow holding on against the giants of the industry. They were doing well for themselves; they had branches in few neighbouring states where the business was concentrated. And yeah, the company policy does state that employees should get transferred around every 4 years or so. But that never really happened. Nath had been working at Gada transport ltd for more than 25 years now and the only way anybody new ever came in the office was if someone died or retired.

That was what had happened. Another clerk, Nisha Bhagwan, had a heart attack at the computer and in came Vikram Kumar, a transfer from Nagpur. The office people took to him like animals take to the new clown at the circus. Nobody was really sad about Mrs Bhagwan's passing. She was old and in an office full of other old people, they were just waiting for the hat to drop on someone. Better Mrs Bhagwan than us.

They inquired after him, after his family, his mother's family, his neighbour's family, his neighbour's dog's family. When they found out that he was divorced and currently living in a sketchy hotel, they immediately turned to Nath.

Nath, or Adinath, as his name was, owned two flats in his society. Two flats side by side, one in which he lived. He very famously refused to rent it out to families or students or single women. Which meant, he never really rented it out. It actually quite suited to his own solitary silent life. But he regretted boasting about it in the office because here came his perfect rent.

"I- uh. The apartment is very dirty and I'd have to clean it," he started making excuses.

Vikram Kumar shrugged. "I don't mind. Better than listening to the sex noises coming from the side wall." Raucous laughter emerged, unhampered by the fact that their only woman employee wasn't there anymore.

Nath couldn't say no.

Vikram Kumar did turn out to be an ideal renter. He was silent. No guests. Rent, which Nath had kept a little high to dissuade, always on time. Sometimes old hindi songs drifted from his flat but Nath didn't mind. As his novelty wore off and office people stopped fawning over him, Nath did find himself to be quite okay with Vikram Kumar's existence.

A distinct mark in his favour was that he didn't laugh when at their regular chai break (5 minute break that always turned into a 45 minute one) the others made him familiar with Nath's title as the resident Bramhachari.

"Never married, never looks at a woman," Bhosle, their manager remarked.

"Hey you remember that time when that bombshell came in complaining about some lost package? Nath did not even look away from her face."

"Pakka gentleman, I tell you. He's not the customer complaint manager for nothing."

Everybody guffawed. Nath gave his regular pained smile. Vikram Kumar smiled back. For a moment, Nath thought it was a smile of understanding.

Eventually, Nath started offering Vikram Kumar a ride home on his ancient scooter. He obliged. When the ride turned regular, Vikram Kumar started contributing for petrol. Another mark in his favour.

13 months later, Vivek Chand, accountant, retired. In came a new hire, Ashalata Waad.

Suddenly many colleagues started turning up in pressed shirts and oiled hair. Nath merely shook his head and laughed at their preening. It was their colleagues' turn to laugh when Ms. Ashalata, recently widowed, took to Nath. Furtive smiles. Sympathy over dealing with difficult clients. Nath of course did not notice. But the other colleagues did. And out of sympathy for Ms Ashalata's feelings, they gently took her to a side after a week or so and directed her towards someone more likely to respond; the new divorcee, Vikram Kumar.

That, Nath certainly noticed.

That evening, Nath left without offering a ride to him.

Next morning, everyone noticed the distinct coldness between Ms Ashalata and Vikram Kumar. It was a long day too. Some trouble with licensing of a large shipment, everybody had to stay behind. It was well over 8 when people started leaving. Vikram came over to Nath's desk and tapped on it.

"I don't think this late I will find a riksha like yesterday. Will you please give a ride home?"

Nath sighed. He wasn't petty after all. Well, not much.

The streets were near empty. Theirs was a small town. One that eats at 8 and sleeps at 10. Nath's scooter cut through the silence and the sickly orange lights of the streetlamps like an interloper. They were crossing the Hutatma Chauk when Vikram asked him to stop.

"What for?"

"It was a long and stressful day. I wanted us a relax a bit at the park bench before we go home."

"I'm not going-"

"Please yaar."

Nath sighed.

Stopping the scooter at side, they both walked to the circle where statue of some forgotten freedom fighter stood, benches around it. Surprisingly, there were some people ambling around. Old couples taking a rest from nightly walk. A group of youngsters.

After having the sound of scooter in the ears for past five minutes, the sudden silence was deafening.

"I don't think Ms Waad would be talking to me again," Vikram Kumar started without preamble, a laughter in his voice.

Nath sighed and ran a hand through in thin hair. "You didn't do any-"

"No no, oh god no! I just said I'm not interested. I think that was enough for her to be offended."

"She's not your type?" he probed gently, curious.

Vikram was silent for a moment and then burst out with sudden emotion, "Why does it matter? Why one single woman and one single man can not stay without having an affair? Ye saala bollywood-" Nath hushed him, noticing the people around.

"Sorry." Vikram said, taking a deep breath to calm himself down.

"I get it. Years ago, when I told my father I was gay-"

"You're what??"

Nath felt like he made a tremendous mistake in judgement. But he was a grown man dammit, he will hold his ground!

"I said I am gay." Nath held his gaze. Vikram Kumar stared back, unknown range of emotions passing. Eventually he broke the gaze, ran a hand through his own balding hair and sat back.

He shook his head. "I am not gay, if that's why you-"

"That wasn't-"

"I'm NOT. I like women. I- I mean men are good too. I. I don't-"

Nath couldn't help it. He broke into a loud laugh. Like Vikram had performed some excellent comedy sketch.

Vikram punched him lightly on his shoulder, a smile evident on his face.

"I just meant, men, women. All are same to me. Honestly, I didn't mind being married to Sheela. I provided for her, I cared for her wellbeing. Our.. bedroom relations were less ideal but I didn't shut her out. I did my duty."

"I'm guessing she wanted someone who didn't see her as a duty?"

Vikram shrugged. "She was nice about it. Told me plain and simple she found someone else. We didn't have kids. It was easy. Well. As easy as it could be. She told the court I was impotent for swift divorce. I agreed. It caused drama in families though, which is why I asked for a transfer."

"Mrs Bhagwan died at a really opportune moment then."

They both shared a laugh and things fell silent once again.

"So you are... one of those," Vikram tried to say casually.

The elderly couple had left. A newly wed looking one took their place. Nath suddenly felt he was thrown back in time.

"I don't have much family," he started. "Mother died when I was young. Theirs was a love marriage, quite unusual for the times. They had run away and so had lost their families. My father raised me well enough; started pestering me for marriage when I got the job at 22. I kept avoiding for few years. But eventually I had to tell him. I wasn't going to ruin some poor woman's life." Nath looked pointedly at Vikram. Vikram didn't take offence. Just laughed self-consciously. Mark in his favour etc etc.

"Father raged for days. Didn't raise his hand on me, didn't tell anyone else but we fought a lot. It wasn't that he denied my condition. He just wanted a family. On some level we understood each other. I realise it now. I knew he wanted me to marry because he didn't want his hard fought family to die with me. And I guess, he probably knew what it meant to love someone you weren't supposed to.

He died soon after."

"When you were thirty, I remember you telling me."

Nath nodded. "I was free. I had a place of my own. A job. No family to hide myself from. I felt guilty over feeling relieved. I felt angry at being guilty. Then came sadness over being angry. That sadness stayed for a decade."

Vikram asked, "So you never...?

Nath shook out of his trip to memory lane. "Hm?"

"Are you? A bramhachari? Did you ever find-"

"There were some men here and there. Obviously there wasn't going to be a relationship," Nath scoffed. "If you know where to look, you can find release. But after Father died, I don't know, I rarely ever went looking for anybody. I didn't have it in me."

Vikram laughed. "Look at us. Two old men, all on their own, no happy family for us."

"Speak for yourself, I'm barely a day over 40," said the man, almost 50.

Vikram laughed again, looking at him with such fondness in his eyes. Nath felt sharp fear for a moment. Then he decided to be an adult again.

"You look well for your age too."

"Nath..."

Nath shivered at hearing his name. It was an intimate name. People didn't say it much. But it fit in Vikram's mouth.

"I don't want to change anything," Vikram said. "I'm happy as things are. It's ideal. I can't offer anything more."

Nath got up, brushing dust from his pants. It had gotten late. They were alone at the circle. A vehicle passing by to remind them of the world that exists.

"I'll take whatever you can offer," he said, looking away from him.

"Friendship? For as long as I live?" Vikram held out his hand.

Nath looked at it. Big, warm. Hairy. Pale skin where the wedding ring used to sit. He extended his own and took it.

"As long as I live."

... Let me know if you like it enough to see some other prompts involving them... I have so many headcanons for them.