#young eris

[elleybug]

Child of Autumn 🍁

[etchedjade]

@erisweekofficial Day 2 ~ Childhood/Legacy Day ~

The Lady of Autumn, Enya Vanserra, with her two eldest sons, Eris and Eiden Vanserra! This occurred at some point during The War.

Reference: “In Time of Peril” (1897) by Edmund Leighton

Hope everyone enjoys and has a happy ErisWeek!!

(Credit: myself, @autumns-high-lady)

[deathberi]

young sephiroth and young angeal!

[black-and-yellow]

You know what time it is. (it's micnight time).

[hyakunana]

The Crafting Mystery

(yes, this is a parody — and yes this is the second time I make a parody of the same scene that is printed in my brain at this point)

[clockwork-ashes]

Daylight

The smallest of stones, the greatest of ripples.

Summary: Eris learns that Lucien is not Beron's son (one-shot).

Eris paced the small room, his steps soundless. Barefoot, ready for bed, cold rough stone to warm soft carpet. Over and over, again and again, a comfort. 

The smell of copper, sharp like night blooming flowers, hung in the air. Eris noticed that he had bitten through the inside of his cheek. He traced the wound with his tongue, the salt and metal of his blood enough to ground him, to clear his mind.  

Eris took a deep breath. He knew all the flames of this world, it was his birthright. Centuries he had lived, had witnessed much, gained enough wisdom. 

Eyes like gold, glowing unlike any fire made of Autumn, Eris had seen only a glimpse of it and had known. Magic was ancient, but simple, responding like a trained hound to those who had taken the time to learn its secrets. Stoked to life in the court he had been raised in, Eris would have recognised the flames as his own. 

Daylight. 

Sunbright, lovely, Lucien’s eyes had been twin stars in the darkness. 

It had taken every ounce of self control Eris possessed not to rear back at the sight, a death sentence. 

An oath taken, a promise made in blood, Eris had nearly forgotten. His mother’s hands, claws as she had gripped his arm, begged her eldest son to grant her strange request. Everything had been made clear as Eris had silently watched the Lady of Autumn gently stroke Lucien’s curls from his face, eyes half-lidded and gold only like sunlight could be. 

Small for his age and precious as all fae children were, Lucien was coddled by everyone in the Forest House.  

Half a decade, nothing in the grand scheme of things, and yet enough to change everything. The smallest of stones, the greatest of ripples. 

The flames in the fireplace flared, Eris tugged at the short strands of blood red hair at the nape of his neck. He felt like he was drowning, his head already below the water’s surface, Eris choked on his own fear. 

“Eris, please.” His mother’s voice was quiet, a tremor in her words as she took to begging him once more. For what, Eris did not know, and in the moment he could not be bothered to care. 

Eris whirled around to face her, smaller than he remembered, the Lady of Autumn looked up at her son. His fear was reflected in her eyes, the weight of knowing that an executioner’s axe hung just above Lucien’s head. 

“How could you?” Eris snarled, the words biting, accusatory. Never had he spoken to his mother in such a way, the softest of tones always reserved for her. 

She shook her head, loose strands falling from her braid and framing her thin face. Defeated, her shoulders curved as she curled in on herself. Eris hoped she felt guilty. “You wouldn’t understand,” she murmured, dismissive and soft.

A strangled laugh, short and unamused, was dragged from deep within Eris. His mother took a careful step towards him, and Eris took a measured step back. Closer in age than half his brothers, Eris had always understood the Lady of Autumn. “Six sons were not enough?” Eris snapped harshly.

“All children are a blessing,” she did not look at Eris as she said it, more to herself than to him anyway. 

Eris wondered if those were the words his mother had told herself when she had first married the High Lord. A half truth quietly whispered when she had been alone, but not entirely convincing despite how often it was said.   

“A fate worse than death awaits him,” Eris argued, sure that flames had come to life in his amber eyes, voice louder. “You’re lucky father is in Spring, or Lucien would be dead already.”

“You don’t know that,” hands clenched into fists at her side, the Lady of Autumn raised her own voice to match.

Eris felt as the temperature in the room changed, uncomfortably hot, the flames in the fireplace and in the torches along the wall responding to the raging emotions of them both. “It’s cruel,” he hissed, “it’s wrong.” 

A child born of an affair, Lucien was well and truly doomed, and who else was Eris to blame but the Lady of the Autumn Court.

“And you know much about cruelty,” the condemnation was clear in the tone his mother used. 

If Eris had taken a moment to think, to consider how worried and frightened she was, perhaps he would have known to stop their argument. Instead, Eris pointed a shaking finger, angry, at the female that had raised him as best she knew how. “And whose fault is that?” The question was bitter, all poison, meant to hurt. 

“You can be so much like your father.” 

The last word a growl, the statement hung between them. Eris would have rather she had taken a knife to his chest. 

Almost as though the Lady of Autumn had struck him, Eris flinched back. 

With a startled gasp, eyes wide in shock and lips parted, his mother put out her hand. Regret, clear as river water, flashed on her sharp features. But the words had been said. “Eris,” she took a step towards him, “I didn’t–” 

The door opened suddenly, the ancient hinges screaming in protest, cutting her sentence short. Eris was glad for it, wished he had not come home, would have preferred the war camps to this. 

Eris had assumed the door was locked, panic coursed through his veins as he wondered who might have heard. Relief, like rain during a drought, came over Eris as Lucien walked into the room. Only the crackling of the fire could be heard, Eris and his mother silent. 

Eyes half shut with sleep, russet once more, Lucien dragged his bare feet along with a small blanket behind him. Eris watched as he rubbed at his eyes with one hand, as he broke into a little yawn.

“Ris?” He mumbled, voice heavy. “I thought I heard your voice.” 

Eris watched as his mother moved towards her youngest son, expecting him to go to her. Instead, Lucien made his way to Eris, nearly tripping on the blanket he had brought with him. 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Eris barely recognised his own voice. 

With a half-hearted shrug, Lucien knocked into Eris’s legs. “I heard you talking in the hall,” another yawn before he continued, “You didn’t come say goodnight.” Completely trusting and entirely unaware of all that had happened moments before he had entered the room, Lucien clung to Eris. 

The Lady of Autumn watched with wary eyes as Eris lifted Lucien into his arms gently. “Let’s get you back to bed.” He murmured. 

Lucien merely hummed his response, tired. Resting his head on Eris’s shoulder, his breaths slowing once more. 

Eris could see the pleading on his mother’s face, but he did not look at her long. He turned his attention to the arched window, watching the first rays of the sun inching over the horizon.  

Daylight.

[missmolsa]

Some girlies <33

[yoursghouly]

“No mortal has ever made it to Tartarus before… alive that is.” x

[seoinquk]

DOOM AT YOUR SERVICE (2021)

[teapetal44]

All For One should have stayed on the sidelines as a character after Kamino. His evolvement in everything after that significantly weakens the story. Building up Tomura as his protégé, framing him as the next symbol of evil, and then pulling the rug under everyone’s feet, is the worst writing decision Hori has ever made. In concept, All For One failing at passing the torch to Tomura is good, because it directly  parallels All Might and his mentorship to Izuku. Unlike All For One, Toshinori was aware the younger generation needed to take up the mantle. All For One is a selfish and controlling person, it makes perfect sense for him to be unable to give up his power to someone else. But in execution it falls apart the moment All For One continues to force himself upon the narrative, continues to serve as the big bad. All For One’s inability to pass the torch and Tomura as a main antagonist can co-exist without weakening the themes of the story.  

Like, imagine how cool it would have been if All for One was destroyed by Tomura after he tried taking control over his body and mind. Tomura realizes his master is holding him back from achieving his full potential and his goal, the thing he literally lives and fights for. Triumph over his master would be Tomura’s final step to becoming the new symbol of evil and his self-liberation. Then, he would truly be free of everything holding him back. AFO, the puppeteer, the man always one step ahead of everyone else, would be conquered by the very same person he molded – he planted the seed, but at last, what grows is out of his control. In a sense, he would be punished by the story for failing at passing the torch and Tomura would be cemented as the final antagonist, and his journey would feel satisfying.

All though, I see why Horikoshi didn’t write it like that – cause that would require giving Tomura actual autonomy as a character. Something he actively avoids doing every chance he gets. It’s easier to have a character who is crafted to be evil by one powerful bad man before he was even born, than to portray an abused child failed by a fundamentally corrupt society that values consumerism over actually helping those in need, who ended up in the hands of the powerful bad man because the child slipped through the cracks of said society. MHA conveys to the viewer that there are no bad systems, only bad people within the established systems.

Tomura couldn’t own his conception, nor his heroic goals, not even his abuse. Nothing ever happened to him because of society as a whole or because life is cruel and merciless. It happened because Anime-Satan said so.

[bia-wayne-west]

The worst part of being bilingual is that you read something and your mind thinks it was in a certain language, then you spend hours looking for that imagine and only later discover that it was in another language.

[vxsellie]

okay so i talk abt loving hozier all the time but i never rlly delve into how fucking significant his music is. and i think, in light of the recent election, it’s time to do so

so here’s my analysis on hozier’s song “swan upon leda”

(ignore if some things are worded weirdly, this was initially written for my sister & my sister only. so it might seem like i’m talking to u as a friend, that’s why!) also if there are any inaccuracies in the myths' interpretations, PLEASE lmk!

anyway here it is!!!

So, before we get into the lyrics themselves let’s take a little peeksie at the song’s background!

Not only is this one of his most political works, but it was also published three years after he literally ghosted the world. And that only makes its debut so much more significant seeing as he’d taken the time to make sure he’d have everyone’s attention when releasing it.

Also, the title is so so so fucking important to take into account when studying this piece of fucking ART. It’s based off of the Greek myth ‘Leda and the Swan’. In this tale, Zeus is heavily attracted to a woman named Leda and transforms her into a swan before raping and impregnating her.

In turn, Hozier connects this story (and also the overarching theme of Zeus being the most powerful god despite being a rapist and child predator COUGHTRUMPCOUGH) to the way women are denied their reproductive rights & how these horrid occurrences effect all of those involved, not just the woman who bears the burden.

A husband waits outside A crying child pushes a child Into the night She was told he would come this time

He paints a picture here, putting an unnamed protagonist into a modern-day tale of patriarchally inflicted torment. The waiting husband symbolizes Zeus in the ancient context as well as an unnamed rapist in modern context. He waits and waits, never acting. He stands outside, so very close to where the problem lies and yet does nothing.

The crying child is inspired by Leda & made into the song’s protagonist, depicted as underage and therefore not able to give her full consent to this outcome. The child she pushes is the one that had been forced upon her, it going into the night symbolizing an untold future. Something she hadn’t asked for and yet is thrusted into doing. Her fear means nothing to the waiting husband & means even less to society as a whole. So, she does it scared. She does it with tears streaming down her face because deep, deep down she knows she has nobody to aid her in this despite having been promised to have help; having been promised that he would come this time.

Without leaving so much as a feather behind To enact, at last, the perfect plan

This illustrates the parallelism of Leda having been turned to a swan and the unnamed child having been forced into the life of a mother. Not leaving a feather behind, to Leda, represents the lack of proof she’d had to Zeus’s cruelty. He’d simply found her, transformed her, impregnated, transformed her back, and left. Now, had a feather been left, she’d have had proof. She’d have been believed. But that kind of miracle never happens for rape victims, now does it? No, instead she was forced to carry a ton more children by a husband that didn’t believe that she’d been raped by Zeus. This, in many ways, connects to real day occurrences that I don’t believe I need to digress on each individually. Though, I happily would if it proves my point mores.

The perfect plan he speaks of is the men getting away with it. In every tale, in every real-time situation, the men get away. They get what they want from the woman, leave her (and their newly formed fetus) to rot, and leave to return to their wives. The perfect plan, is it not?

The gateway to the world Was still outside of reach of him Would never belong to angels, Had never belonged to men.

This. This is why I love Andrew Hozier-Byrne, ladies and gentlemen.

As he speaks of a “gateway to the world”, he’s referring to childbirth. To bring a child into the world is a gateway, correct? It’s a bit of inexplicable divinity, pregnancy. To create an entire being with naught but your own bodily organs and cells? Those of which had been made by a woman before you? Yeah, it’s pretty fucking insane to me. Anyway.

Okay back on topic. The point is, this amazing occurrence he discusses is said to still out of reach to “him”. This unnamed male figure can be both Zeus in the myth or the husband in the modern altercation. This means that, despite them having forced themselves upon these beautiful souls, they haven’t a say in gateway. They don’t have a single fucking important role to play in the birth itself. They’re just the sperm.

And then Hozier goes even further. Not only does he say that the rapists are unfit for the sanctitude of childbirth, but heaven itself is unfit. The angels up above. Zeus. God. Whatever religious aspect you want to praise; it doesn’t hold a candle to the divinity that is a woman. As are the men. All men. Mankind itself, if you will. Regardless of your role or title or holiness, you’re all fucking useless when it comes to the sacred act of conceiving, creating, then bearing another human.

After the first chorus, the image alters to another scenario:

A grandmother smuggling meds Past where the god-child soldier, Setanta, stood dead Our graceful turner of heads Weaves through the checkpoints like a needle and thread

This shows a grandmother stealing medicine for an abortion, likely for a daughter or granddaughter. This shows the generational struggle to make the right choice. As it feels both revolutionary and also something she’d been doing her whole life. Fighting for rights.

Now, Setanta, as referred to in the song, is based off of an Irish myth. In this myth, Setanta is the name of a child who had killed Culann’s guard dog in self-defense and therefore felt guilty. In a fit of grief for the life he’d stolen, Setanta offered to take its place and thereby became known as the “Hound of Culann”. His story is actually really interesting to read about, but I won’t go into too much detail on every depicted myth. As Hozier refers to the checkpoint soldiers as Setanta, he claims they’d “stood dead” at their watch — which goes to show that these soldiers are young (as Setanta had been) and he therefore protests against the way they’re surrendering their full lives to this ruined system of oppression that they enforce.

Someone’s frightened boy waves her on She offers a mother’s smile, and soon she’s gone. The gateway to the world The gun in a trembling hand

This right here is absolutely fucking amazing. Hozier connects both oppressor and oppressed, humanizing the grandmother to be retrieving meds for an unplanned pregnancy & also personifying the young boy as someone’s child who needed something so simple as a mother’s kindness to keep him going.

The way he does this goes to show what a talented person he is. Being able to make your audience sympathize with both the boy and the grandma is fucking magic. Rather than making the soldiers wholly evil and merciless, he made them children. The same children the lady is trying to prevent bringing into this world.

When nature unmakes the boundary The pillar of myth still stands The swan upon Leda Occupier upon ancient land

While the first chorus is a reminder of childbirth’s right to be protected and not put in the hands of religion or men, the second chorus ties it all together by showing the repetition in history and how it’s bound to repeat itself so long as man remains lustful for power. This shows that greed and brutality is an undeniable way to keep this horrid pattern living on. He laments that nature did not intend to have one rule over another (men over women; society over youth). And yet, somehow, it’ll forever remain unavoidable.

The pillar of myth still stands. That crumbling foundation it had been built o remains, standing tall as more and more men come to repeat it. And, in all honesty, I doubt it’ll ever end. The child will continue to push the child. The husband will continue to wait. The grandmother will continue to smuggle her rights. The boy will continue to tremble. And mother nature will continue to watch with a frown on her face as mankind sets more pillars atop her divinity.

All in all, Hozier is awesome sauce!!!

[deathberi]

grumpy babyyy

[bookishcarmela]

Saw she didn’t have much fan art so I decided to draw the beautiful highlady of autumn 😻

Who should I draw next?🧐

[hyakunana]

Pocky Day 2k23 feat exo girlfriends ✨