#being Irish on main again

[hidingoutbackstage]

Something about Tucker being held to a higher standard than all of the other Reds and Blues in the later seasons. Sure he likes sex and makes “that’s what she said” esque sex jokes, but like, especially during Shisno trilogy, the show seems to really like putting him down or treating his love for sex like a comedic punching bag. Oh, Tucker’s a single dad who genuinely loves and cares about his one alien kid despite how that kid was forced upon him? Well actually he had sex with a TON of women on Chorus by using the fuck temple and now has a ton of kids that he’s reluctant to pay child support for. And speaking of the temple, despite it being said to make everyone on the planet super horny and sex obsessed, Tucker says he didn’t feel any different, because making him hypersexual is funny (why is it funny, RT?). And remember how Tucker’s arc during Chorus had him emotionally dealing with Felix’s betrayal? Well now he falls for the most obvious manipulative lies from Temple, I guess he’s just dumber now. And you remember that funny scene in season 5 where Doc is giving Sister a physical exam, and Tucker obviously really wants to see her naked, but because Doc keeps telling him to not come in, and likely out of respect, he doesn’t, while Red Team is secretly perving on her (which they never fucking get called out for), plus all the funny moments of him trying to flirt with her, and her either being receptive or so fucking weird that it takes him aback? Well Tucker still REALLY wants her, but he’s now a childish asshole who can’t stand the idea of her not wanting to sleep with him, and is now super self centered despite the arc he went through showing how he values others, and the series basically keeps fucking with him and making him miserable and barely ever giving him a moment of relief. And you know how he was mercilessly tortured for M O N T H S during Restoration? Well he doesn’t get to process that trauma, and despite all the growth he’s supposedly gone through throughout the series, his last moment is an offscreen sex joke because Tucker’s the perv, get it? We can’t let him have a fucking break despite literally everyone else being treated comparatively nicer or given some kind of levity. Why specifically Tucker, Rooster Teeth? What has he done that’s so bad to you that you continually treat his character this way despite the fact that he’s truly the best (and should have been main) character in this whole series?

[la-cocotte-de-paris]

FINALLY got to watch The Banshees of Inisherin!!!

[fawnforevergone]

The Ultimate List of Dante References in Hozier's "Unreal Unearth" !!

Hello and welcome to my new-and-updated ultimate compilation of all 'Inferno' references I found in Hozier's new album! If I think of anything else, or if anyone else suggests something, I will be sure to add it, but, for now, enjoy this ridiculously long (you've been warned) list I made!

Since I didn't wanna make a post for every individual song and spam you all, the songs are separated by their respective circles! I hope that organises stuff a bit more :]

Usual disclaimer: I could be wrong about some stuff! I've read 'Inferno' and try to stick to the objective references, but sometimes I let subjective interpretation bleed through. If anyone has any corrections for anything, just lmk!! Okay, cool <3

DESCENT:

"De Selby (Part 1)"

We start the album not in the circles, but instead at the Gates of Hell. One of the main themes of Inferno is darkness, and these first two songs are embodiments of that.

The lyrics mention the idea of this being a "new empty space", suggesting that Hozier is being introduced to the feeling of Inferno through the relationship he's singing about, and, so, we begin the descent.

"The likes of a darkness so deep that God at the start couldn't bear." God is obviously a large theme of Inferno and is, biblically, the creator of light, hence the absence of it in Inferno. In fact, the first three stanzas all reference the heavy darkness of the threshold and its estrangement from God.

The Irish/Gaeilge lyrics roughly translate to: "Although you're bright and light, you arrive to me like night fall. You and I, together. You and I, metamorphized. Although you're bright and light, you arrive to me like night fall. The art of transformation is a dark art." The imagery of light and dark mixing together mimics the idea of walking from the brightness of Earth into the darkness of Inferno.

This entire album appears to be the recounting of a relationship and how it feels like walking through Inferno. Here we see the beginning of this relationship, of Hozier losing himself to the threshold.

"De Selby (Part 2)"

Part one appeared to be the step through the gates, whereas part two seems to be Hozier being enveloped by the threshold. In 'Inferno', Dante says the entrance to Hell is a darkness that no stars could shine in. We hear this shift from Earth to Unearth through the production alone; the weightlessness of part one falling into the heavy grunge of part two.

"Your heart, love, has such darkness, I feel it in the corners of the room." The theme of dark continues, as it will through the entire album, but, this time, Hozier feels it radiating from within his lover rather than the space around them. Though, him saying his lover carries darkness is not an insult. This extra depth to his lover is something more to know, something more to love. This idea actually differs from Dante, who sees the darkness as deceitful.

"I want to be so far from sight and mind." Inferno is a lawless place. He would be far from sight due to the darkness, and far from mind due to the insanity that persists within the circles.

"Let all time slow, let all light go." This lyric shows me that he has been submerged in the threshold. Again, the lack of light, but also the slowing of time. Punishment after death is eternal, something that time has no grasp on. Hozier is willing to let these aspects take a hold of him.

"I'd still know you not being shown you, I'd only need the workin' of my hands." Christianity is a heavy theme of Inferno, and this lyric plays on the proverb 'Idle hands are the devil's workshop', a proverb Hozier also hinted at in his song "No Plan" (from 'Wasteland, Baby!') - "My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand."

Now, though, Hozier's hands aren't idle, instead the opposite, his hands are working as God intended. Drawing us back to that idea we were given at the end of part one, we get the feeling that Hozier is bringing something light/Godly to Inferno, and he and his lover are fusing the ideas of Heaven/Earth and Hell.

FIRST (LIMBO):

"First Time"

We now enter circle number one, 'Limbo'. Limbo is an uneventful circle for those not worthy of punishment but also not fit for Heaven. It is mainly for those who do not believe in God, the unbaptised.

Firstly, to get to circles, Dante and his guide, Virgil, must be chaperoned by the Greek Psychopomp Charon down the river Acheron, and we see that in Hozier's first couple stanzas.

"And the soul - if that's what you'd call it, uneasy ally of the body - felt nameless as a river, undiscovered underground." This appears to be Hozier mentioning the river Acheron, one of the five rivers of the Underworld that surround Hades, and, in 'Inferno', are used to transport the souls of the dead to their respective circles.

"The first time that you kissed me, I drank dry the river Lethe." The river Lethe is another one of the five rivers, and is one that causes anyone who drinks from it to forget everything they know. Hozier is simply saying that kissing this person wiped his mind clean, similar to the end of "De Selby (Part 1)" where he mentions partaking in a transformation.

"Some part of me died / Some part of me came alive the first time that you called me 'Baby'." Relating to the previous quote, souls that drink from the river Lethe usually do so before being reincarnated, so they forget their past life. Hozier seems to experiment with the idea of being reborn by his partner's love for him - an idea prevalent throughout his entire discography.

"To share the space with simple living things, infinitely suffering, but fighting off - like all creation - the absence of itself." This lyric tells us that we should not ignore the privilege of living just out of the fear of dying. This lyric is reminiscent of "All Things End" and the circle of Heresy. Since Limbo is home to those who don't believe in God, the theme of Heresy is a very fitting one.

SECOND (LUST):

"When I was young, I used to guess 'Are there limits to any emptiness?'" The punishment for those in Limbo is to exist eternally with the curse of a hollow, empty feeling meant to represent the lack of God in their lives. This punishment seems referenced in this lyric.

[ i ended up thinking about this song more so if you want even more "first time" content, here ya go: "first time dante references." ]

"Francesca"

Into circle number two, 'Lust', we have the story of Francesca Da Rimini, a woman Dante spoke to during his visit to circle two. Francesca fell in love with her husband's brother, Paolo, and when her husband discovered the affair he murdered them both.

Hozier seems to be singing from the perspective of Francesca/Paolo but throughout the album we see Hozier liken his lover to aspects of Inferno - darkness in "De Selby (Part 2)" or Lucifer in "Unknown / Nth" - so the story of Francesca and Paolo is fitting as another metaphor here.

"Do you think I'd give up? That this might've shook the love from me?" Even in Hell, Paolo and Francesca physically cling onto another. They do not let their death affect their love.

"My life was a storm since I was born. How could I fear any hurricane?" The punishment in Lust is an eternal storm meant to replicate the throws of passionate love - a storm also depicted in the production of the end of this song. Hozier/Francesca/Paolo says that it's impossible for them to care about this punishment when life was already as treacherous as it was.

The whole chorus emphasises the imagery of Francesca and Paolo not being able to let go of each other.

"When the heart would cease, ours never knew peace. What good what it be on the far side of things?" Francesca and Paolo lived their love secretly and anxiously, so what good would peace be in the afterlife when they've already become accustomed to difficulty?

"Heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I." In the opening songs of the album, Hozier describes his lover as darkness, akin to something God cannot bear. Due to the depth of his lover, the mix of light and dark they've made, he believes Heaven would crumble beneath the weight of their relationship. That something as corrupt as Inferno is the only place suitable for them to live.

"I, Carrion (Icarian)"

Still in circle two, Hozier plays on Dante's own metaphor. In Canto 17, Dante refers to his own dread of descending Inferno to the same dread that the 'ill-fated Icarus' must've felt on his fall from the sky.

Hozier twists this, instead comparing his love to the hope Icarus must've felt as he flew towards the sun. He said, during a live show, this song is based on the idea hat Icarus never realised he fell, and woke up dead, too clouded by joy to realise what had happened.

"If the wind turns, if i hit a squall, allow the ground to find its brutal way to me." Again, we mention the storm of circle two. Lust is also said to have treacherous terrain - sharp rocks and jagged stone - that seems to be hinted at in the second half of this lyric.

"While you're as heavy as the world that you hold your hands beneath." This imagery seems reminiscent of the Greek Titan, Atlas, who holds up the Earth on his back. Dante talks about seeing Titans and Biblical Giants at the transition point of circle eight to circle nine, 'Fraud' to 'Treachery', which makes this lyric a sad hint to where Hozier will end up finding his lover; Taking the place of Lucifer in the deepest part of Inferno.

THIRD (GLUTTONY):

"Eat Your Young"

We enter the third circle of Inferno, 'Gluttony'. There are no specific references to Inferno, but the concept of gluttony is apparent. Hozier does what he frequently does throughout this album; He refuses to see the sin as "right or wrong" as Dante so stubbornly implies.

Hozier often divulges in a grey area, a spectrum or sale of severity, when it comes to the sin. Hozier's perspective seems more nuanced than Dante's, seeing sin as layered rather than objectively bad. In this specific song, he displays the different sources of hunger in humans, and where the line should be drawn.

"I'm starvin', darlin', let me put my lips to something, let me wrap my teeth around the world." We start, and reference back to in verse two, a sexual hunger, a harmless passion between two people. This is an innocent side of the sin, not deserving of the punishment of Lust which is to be ripped apart by Cerberus (the three-headed dog from Greek mythology) for all eternity.

However, Hozier moves onto the hunger of politics.

"Pull up the ladder when the flood comes." The government refusing to help the people when the sea levels rise.

"Throw enough rope until the legs have swung." When you don't have a ladder, you use a rope. This lyric plays on the notion of when governments give the impression they are helping, but are only making things worse - a take on the saying 'Give someone enough rope and they'll hang themselves', since what else are they meant to do with it?

"Skinnin' the children for a war drum, puttin' food on the table selling bombs and guns." The hunger for power manifests in war.

"It's quicker and easier to eat your young." Here, Hozier uses the common saying in a more literal sense, saying that if these politicians are hungry enough to destroy the world, they may as well physically eat their young, since it'll have the same effect.

FOURTH (GREED):

"Damage Gets Done"

This song takes place in circle four, 'Greed'! The title of the song alone is already very meaningful. In circle four, the main punishment is that the inhabitants are split into two groups and are forever forced to charged into each other and fight. Dante describes them are being so injured and damaged that they have become 'unrecognisable'.

The song is about greed within the changing of the world. It's about growing up and losing the naivety and innocence you once had, no longer able to ignore the burden of politics and money. Hozier and Brandi sing about the excitement of being young and in love, but, with the rise of inflation, it's hard to exist like that anymore - You need greed to survive.

"Wish I had known it was just our turn being blamed for a world we had no power in." This seems to be a reference to two things. One, the idea that governments blame the people for their own poverty, and Two, the idea of arriving in circle four by no fault of your own. It's not their fault they wanted more money with the world being how it is, but, nevertheless, they're being punished for it.

"I haven't felt it since then. I don't know when the feeling ended, but I know being reckless and young is not how the damage gets done." They talk about the enjoyment of the love they're singing about fading, and how they miss that, but they know that, again, this is not their fault. They know they didn't change, the world did, and they won't take responsibility for their 'sin' when all they did was adapt.

As aforementioned, the inhabitants of the fourth circle suffer extreme injuries, so Hozier saying "I know being reckless and young is not how the damage gets done" is him saying "I know that we are not at fault for being served the punishment of Greed."

FIFTH (WRATH / ANGER):

"Who We Are"

We enter the fifth circle, 'Wrath', where the inhabitants spend their time fighting to stay at the surface of the river Styx, another one of the five rivers of the underworld.

"Falling from you drop by drop." / "To hold me like water." These lyrics obviously give the idea of water, representing the river Styx.

"Or, Christ, hold me like a knife." This lyric comes in quite loudly, Hozier's voice strengthening with it. The subtle blasphemy of "Christ" and the violent imagery of "knife" comes across as a sort of anger. Being held "like a knife" is representative of how those is Wrath must feel - like they are something particularly dangerous, but still desperate to be held.

"We're born at night, so much of our lives is just carving through the dark to get so far." Again, this theme of darkness that is so frequently displayed in Inferno is mentioned again. After this song comes "Son Of Nyx", which Hozier said was the transition into the darker half of the album, and Nyx is the Goddess of the Night. Being "born at night" would make Hozier the son of the night, the son of Nyx. This gives the impression that, if the album is following on chronologically, this is the point where the relationship portrayed in the album begins to fray as Hozier starts to be consumed by the darkness.

"And the hardest part is who we are." Those in the circle of Wrath possess a 'savage self-frustration' that Hozier seems to represent throughout this whole song - A fierce annoyance with the way he and his lover let things go: "We sacrificed, we gave our time to something undefined", "Chasing someone else's dream", Etc.

SIXTH (HERESY):

"Son Of Nyx"

We have no lyrics for this song (though you can hear him faintly saying some things, one of which is him saying "who we are...") but we know it takes place in circle six, 'Heresy'. Heresy is a belief or opinion that is contradictory to religious doctrine, especially Christianity. As aforementioned, Hozier said this track is a transition song meant to replicate a descent into the darker half of the album.

Nyx is a Greek Goddess and is often known as the personification of night. She had many children all representing different things but the title would essentially mean 'The Son Of Night', and, as dissected in the previous song, we can see that Hozier sees himself as reborn into the darkness.

Once again, darkness is a large theme of Inferno, but Hozier saying in circle six that he is the Son of Night is particularly meaningful due to the association of light with God. He has been reborn as something that could not be further from God, something that opposes the idea of God, something of a Heretic.

Nyx was feared and respected by all, including Zeus, and, though I believe there is no reference to her in Inferno, she was described as residing in the dark recesses of the Underworld, which is heavily incorporated into Inferno.

"All Things End"

This song does not have many overt references to circle six but definitely incorporates the idea of heresy. As mentioned, heresy is an idea that contradicts (especially, but not always) Christianity. In this song, Hozier talks about the ephemeral nature of all things, particularly romance.

"When people say that something is forever, either way it ends." Whether it be death or a break-up, God doesn't plan for you to be able to spend eternity with your lover.

"Movin' on in time and taking more from everything that ends." Hozier, however, argues that things still have meaning beyond their end. That, even after moving on, we will remember and learn from the things we have lost.

"Just knowin' that everything will end should not change our plans." Throws back to the idea of the second verse of "First Time". If you avoided something just because it was going to end eventually, you would never achieve anything. That's like refusing to finish a movie just because you don't want to get to the credits.

When this concept of ignoring the end comes to death, we ultimately cross the concept of God. There are many rules people follow in religion, avoiding certain things because they are against 'God's Will'. Although this practice can be kept in moderation, it can quickly become self-imprisoning.

Not living your present life out of fear for an unproven afterlife can be limiting, especially if you dictate who you love due to what supernatural punishment may or may not follow. Hozier sings that we should not let God's plan interfere with what we need from life, allowing ourselves to indulge in love even if it will end - ultimately, Heresy.

SEVENTH (VIOLENCE):

"To Someone From A Warm Climate (Uiscefhuaraithe)"

This song places in circle seven, 'Violence'. Violence is split into three subcategories, or 'rings'; Violence against others, violence against self, and violence against God. I believe this song gives an overview of all three.

With this song, we recognise that the title says "To someone..." and Hozier said this song was a gift to someone who was from a geographical warm climate, but there is also a lot of heat in circle seven.

"A joy, hard learned in winter, was the warming of the bed." Throughout this song, Hozier describes himself as cold, and his lover as warm. The idea of warming the bed is a concept Hozier mentioned in his song "Nobody" (From 'Wasteland, Baby!') where he sings that, if he had a choice between the warm bed of his lover or performing on stage, he'd go home to the bed. Since this song comes after "All Things End" (the break-up song), this call back to "Nobody" could be instead referencing a permanent distance, rather than a temporary one (like the temporary distance in "Nobody").

"And, darlin', all my dreaming has only been put to shame." This could have two meanings. One, Hozier waking from a dream about his lover to find them not here. Or, two, Hozier's expectations of his lover falling short as their relationship has finally fallen through. These expectations could be a form of violence against self, the second ring, as he set himself up for heartbreak.

"And I wish that I could say that the river of my arms have found the ocean. I wish I could say the cold lake water of my heart- Christ, it's boilin' over." As mentioned, Hozier is cold, his lover is warm. His wishes he could find something to to fill the loss of his relationship, but he still feels the heat from his lover in every part of him.

"It's boilin' over." References the river of boiling blood in the first ring, violence against others, Hozier could be talking about the way his partner loved him, how that was almost an act of violence with how hard it is to now let go.

"Butchered Tongue"

This song has less references to 'Inferno', and is more of a commentary on the act of violence itself. Hozier sings of places and cultures lost to the violence of man, and he mourns this deeply.

"To say 'Appalacicola' or 'Hushpukena', like 'Gweebara'. A promise softly sung of somewhere else." This grieving for a time when native land wasn't colonised and culture wasn't violently erased is prevalent throughout the song.

In the second verse, he sings very strongly of the brutal acts inflicted upon Irish rebels by the British forces in the Wexford Rebellion of 1789. As we know, Hozier is from Ireland, and he incorporates both the Irish language and history into this album, and recounting such violent acts for this song feeds into the grieving of what has been lost: "Between what is lost forever and what can still be known."

In the context of 'Inferno', it feels as though Hozier is listing the sort of actions that would land someone within the circle of Violence whilst also appreciating the efforts those above ground take to preserve erased culture. Altogether, the song is a very moving commentary on modern violence.

EIGHTH (FRAUD):

"Anything But"

The eighth circle is 'Fraud', split into ten subcategories that are positioned around the circle in trench-like ditches, known as 'Bolgia'.

"I wanna be loud, so loud, I'm talking seismic," follows up with, "I want to be as soft as a single rock in a rain stick." Who he wants to be fluctuates between moderation and severity. He is changing, unreliable, possibly referring to bolgia one, Panders and Seducers. Seducers tend to 'lead astray', as Hozier's unreliable narration does.

The punishment of bolgia one is to be marched backwards and forwards rapidly whilst being whipped, very much evoking the imagery of a stampede: "If I were a stampede, you wouldn't get a kick." This alludes to the fact that if Hozier were sent to hell for the various sins he commits for his lover, he wouldn't resent them for it at all.

"If I was a riptide, I wouldn't take you out." The second bolgia of Fraud is for Flatterers, 'the act of giving excessive compliments, sometimes for romantic courtship'. Obviously, the song is filled with these compliments.

"I hear He touches your hand and then you fly away together. If I had his job, you'd live forever." The imagery of "fly away" gives the idea of ascending, perhaps to Heaven, as hinted at again by the idea of the longevity of living. Bolgia three is for Simoniacs, those who would sell church roles, offices, or sacred things. This seems to fit with Hozier saying that if he had a divine role, he wouldn't follow protocol, he would allow his lover immortality.

Simoniacs were sinners because they were disobeying God's trust, because the selling of divine roles would lead to corruption in the Church. Hozier is using this hyperbolically, saying that if someone were to sell him the role of God, he would most definitely be a corrupt power.

"I'd lower the world in a flood, or better yet I'd cause a drought." In bolgia four we have Sorcerers. Although Dante used this term in a more logical sense for fraudulent sorcerers - false prophets, fortune tellers, those who lied about the plans of God - Hozier uses the term in a supernatural sense. Sorcerers were punished for trying to interrupt God's prerogative, whereas Hozier is blatantly saying he would summon another flood, usurping God's plan overtly.

"I'm talking seismic." The bridge that leads to bolgia seven was collapsed by the great earthquake and, as we know, seismic activity leads to earthquakes.

"Worry the cliff side top as a wave crashing over." There happens to be a cliff near the entrance of circle eight that a large waterfall plunges over.

"Abstract (Psychopomp)"

This song appears to be the crossover point from circle eight to circle nine that I mentioned when discussing "I, Carrion (Icarian)". Before we get to that, the title itself is significant.

A psychopomp is a chaperon of death; Someone like the Grim Reaper, or Charon from "First Time", or Dante's guide through Inferno, Virgil. Here, Hozier is describing the act of hitting an animal with your car as taking on the role of a psychopomp, whilst also relating this idea to the act of letting a relationship die, leading it from life to death.

In the crossover point from eight to nine, Dante and Virgil stand and look at the large well that leads down to circle nine, 'Treachery'. The Titians and Giants burst out of the well, to big to fit, but their feet stand stubbornly in Treachery. I believe that, at this point in the album, Hozier stands here, too. He's visited all eight circles, and has one last place to go before he leaves Inferno, and ultimately his lover, behind. This song is him realising he has to let his relationship end, he has to act as a psychopomp for his love.

"Sometimes it returns like rain that you've slept through." Circle nine, 'Treachery', is a frozen over lake, aka a memory of water, similar to the residue of rain. With viewing this song as the predecessor to "Unknown / Nth", we can take this as a hint of what's to come.

"The Earth from a distance." Since Inferno is arranged in rings (like a circular staircase), Dante could feasibly look up and still see where he started his journey. The same way Hozier could look up and see where his relationship began, "De Selby (Part 1)", The Gates.

"Streetlights in the dark blue." We have the mix of light and dark again, as mentioned in the opening track, referencing back to Hozier and his partner falling in love.

"Darling, there's a part of me I'm afraid will always be trapped within an abstract of my life." Of course, Hozier is talking about the memory of the animal hit with the car here, but the way this relates to circle nine is beautiful. As we'll properly dissect with "Unknown / Nth", sat within the most central point of circle nine, the deepest part of Inferno, is Lucifer, the fallen angel. Lucifer was thrown down to Hell from Heaven, and found himself trapped in Treachery, his body too big to escape. Dante says that the more he struggles, the more stuck he becomes.

That moment he was struck down to hell is a moment he finds himself forever stuck in, just as Hozier is saying here. In the next song, Hozier relates his lover to Lucifer, but these lyrics are a gorgeous mirroring of Lucifer's experience, and another hint at the final circle we will now head to.

NINTH (TREACHERY):

"Unknown / Nth"

Okay, buckle in.

The ninth circle, 'Treachery', is also one split into subcategories, yet Hozier appears to be singing about the centre. The frozen over lake of Treachery gets more frozen the closer you get to the centre. The inhabitants start half-submerged in ice to fully plastered in it. Throughout Inferno, and the deeper we descend, a soft breeze becomes a strong wind, that, as we reach the centre, we find is caused by the violent flapping of Lucifer's wings. Here he sits, stuck and chewing on Judas, another one of God's biggest betrayers.

After "Abstract (Psychopomp)" Hozier is now exploring the final stage of his relationship. The circles of Hell had mirrored the love he once had, and Treachery is where it shall be buried. He also represents his lover as Lucifer, though not maliciously. In interviews, Hozier spoke about the song being about a heavy betrayal he suffered from someone he truly loved, and likening this to God and Lucifer is just heartbreaking.

"You know the distance never made a difference to me." The song is about knowing someone in their entirety, discovering their best and worst parts. Hozier uses Inferno to talk about the tiresome journey of finally knowing someone. He says he would've made the trip all the same, that he would've walked this far for his lover no matter what.

"I swam a lake of fire, I'd have walked across the floor of any sea." This mirrors the previous lyric, but also references specific parts of Inferno. The are many fires in Inferno, particularly in circle seven, 'Violence'. The sea floor lyric reminds me of the lake of Treachery. Though a surface, not a floor, the lake would still be below any seabed, since Inferno is geographically below the Earth.

"Funny how true colours shine in darkness and in secrecy." You guys are probably sick of hearing me say it but... Darkness is a big theme in Dante's Inferno. It is meant to represent the deceiving nature of humans when light is not being shone. Secrecy is a running thread through 'Inferno', too, as Dante finds many people he thought had done no wrong residing there. Hozier is simply saying how (sarcastically) funny it is that he only truly knows his lover in the remains of their relationship; How he only knows them after seeing them in their cruellest form.

"Where you were held frozen like an angel to me." There are many angel lyrics, but this one specifically references the ice of Treachery. The fallen angel is indicative of Hozier's experience: Seeing someone he regarded highly, even heavenly, falling from that pedestal and turning into something that couldn't be further from God's work.

"You called me angel for the first time, my heart leapt from me. You smile, now, I can see its pieces still stuck in your teeth, and, what's left of it, I listen to it tick. Every tedious beat going unknown as any angel to me." Hozier references his ex-lover chewing on his heart the way Lucifer chews on Judas. He listens to it somehow still ticking, however slowly, and at the end of the song we hear something akin to a heartbeat. The beats are "going unknown as any angel to me" since he can no longer recognise his own heartbeat after it has been mangled by another, and, since he mistook someone alike Lucifer to an angel, the idea of angels must be "unknown" to him.

"Do you know I could break beneath the weight of the goodness, love, I still carry for you? That I'd walk so far just to take the injury of finally knowing you?" We again have this imagery of walking far, referencing the journey of Inferno, and, even though he's aching with the realisation of who his lover truly is, he can't help but be grateful that he does now know them, no matter how painful that may be. That he would do this all again if it meant he at least got to the answer of who they are.

His weak heartbeat follows him through to final track as we begin the Ascent.

ASCENT:

"First Light"

The title is very meaningful for the Ascent. The song references both Dante and Virgil's ascent and the creation of light by God himself. Dante and Virgil leave Inferno through a tunnel that Lucifer left in the Earth as he was thrown down to Hell, and they emerge on the other side of the hemisphere. This song signifies Hozier stepping away from the relationship as he also makes that journey out.

"One bright morning changes all things." Dante is disorientated when he exits Inferno. He'd become so accustomed to the darkness that he asks Virgil, 'How is it that the sun progressed so rapidly from evening to day?' Hozier seems to recognise here that his relationship is no longer fit for him, that the darkness has become too encompassing, just as Dante realises on his ascent.

"The sky set to burst, the gold and the rust, the colour erupts...the sun coming up." Not only does this give the imagery of the birth of light, but it also represents Dante's view on his exit: 'Until...I saw the lovely things the sky above us bears. Now we came out, and once more saw the stars.'

"Like I lived my whole life before the first light." Hozier says that the darkness from his lover was so overbearing that it was hard to believe he'd ever felt light before - that light could not have exists with a darkness this heavy alongside it. It is a call back to "De Selby (Part 1)" - "A darkness so deep that God at the start couldn't bear."

"One bright morning comes. Darkness always finds you either way, it creeps into the corners as the moment fades." He speaks of bringing light to a moment between them, but has it quickly smothered by the darkness inherent in his partner. Another call back, this time to "De Selby (Part 2)" - "And your heart, love, has such darkness, I feel it in the corners of the room."

"After this I'm never going to be the same, and I am never going back again." This lyric is heart-breaking. Hozier states that Inferno has changed him, but he has no wishes to re-enter it. At the beginning of this album, he was begging for the likes of Inferno - "De Selby (Part 2)": "Let all time slow, let all light go." - and now he is desperate to get away from it. In "Francesca", he said, "At the end, I'd tell them, 'Put me back in it.'", yet, now, he's at the end, he's ascended, and he has no desire to go back at all.

He is letting go of his lover because he recognises that this pain was not worth it, that this love was not worth the punishment he received, so he leaves.

---

That was Hozier's Inferno !! I hope this was helpful to some people since it was very fun to make (I'm exhausted) and it's very enlightening to see how these lyrics relate to Inferno (I'm heart-broken) !! Okay, wooooo !! Enjoy !!!

[thetriumphantpanda]

i've got my love to keep me warm | joel miller

Summary | Joel agrees to spend Christmas with your family, away from the warmth of Texas, and it takes him a little while to warm up to the idea.

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!reader

Word Count | 1.4K

Warnings | Grumpy x Sunshine vibes, some sweetness, some suggestive thoughts but nothing explicit, mentions of consuming food and alcohol.

Authors note | For @yeollie-plz- It's your @pedrostories secret santa!! I really hope you love this because it was good fun to put together! Happy Christmas to you!

“You know, you could at least pretend to be happy?” You tease, nudging your elbow into Joel’s side.

With the way he’s bundled up in his big coat, you’re not sure he actually feels you do it, but he grumbles all the same. Whatever he says in incoherent, but you can discern the meaning perfectly. What’s the point in being here as grown adults? What’s the point in wandering around, looking at lights and getting excited about Christmas, when, for the first time in years, there won’t be any children around?

“Come on,” You beam, taking his gloved hand in yours, “Maybe a drink with a little something in would make you happier?”

“What would make me happier would be sat indoors outta this snow.”

You roll your eyes, pulling on his hand to get him to follow you. He walks by your side, gloved hand sitting in yours as you weave through the crowds of people. Joel had wanted to stay in Texas for Christmas, something about the familiarity of it, not wanting to spend too much money on travelling at this time of year, but knowing it was his first Christmas without Sarah, now that she was all grown up with her own family, you knew that he’d be miserable, no matter that you’d be there with him, so you’d put your foot down, told him the two of you would spend Christmas with your parents up north, somewhere cooler, more festive.

He’d met them plenty of times before, they loved him, thought the sensible, stoic man was good for you. He had his head on his shoulders, a home of his own - settled, is what they’d called him. A far cry from the other boys you’d chosen in the past few years, and they were overjoyed to have a house full of people this year - your brother and his wife, you and Joel, a real family affair.

The centre of town always reminded you of being a child when you came back at this time of year. The streets filled with small stalls - some selling food, some filled with little trinkets from small businesses, all set around the main square, with its big tree, lit up and sparkling.

There’s one stall you zero in on, a small line that you stand in, still gripping at Joel’s hand as you step further towards the front each time someone walks away. You remember the first time you’d stood in this line - you were eight, and your dad had passed you a cup full of warm hot chocolate, a towering swirl of whipped cream on top. You’d sipped it so slowly, savouring the cream and the sweetness of the chocolate, and anytime you’re here, you have to get it, it’s just that these days, it’s always spiked with something.

Joel, of course, orders an Irish coffee - black, bitter coffee, split with cream and his favourite whiskey. You watch closely as he pulls one of his gloves off with his teeth, slipping it in his pocket so he can feel the warmth of it in his palm. He’s watching you just as closely as the lady hands you the cup of hot chocolate, mixed with Bailey’s, still with that tower of whipped cream too.

You both step away, standing off to the side as Joel takes the first sip of his drink. You can see the slight softening of his expression as he goes in for another sip, this one bigger than the first. He’s watching you as you dart your tongue out, taking some of the sweet cream into your mouth before you sip the drink, hissing when it burns your tongue a little.

“That’ll be hot, baby.” He teases, earning a little glare from you as he drinks his again, seemingly unaffected by the steam that rises from his own cup.

“It’s good,” You muse, holding it out to him, “Try it.”

“I don’t want none a’that,” He shakes his head, “Too sweet.”

“Joel Miller,” You chastise, pushing the cup closer to his face, “It’s Christmas, for the love of God, try the hot chocolate.”

He sighs, shakes his head in that way he always does when he knows he can’t win the battle. He hands you his drink, laughs a little when you wrinkle your nose at how strong it smells, takes yours from you and brings it to his mouth, taking a big sip, and when he pulls it away to hand back to you, you can’t stifle the giggle that falls from your mouth.

“What?” He asks, as your giggle falls into proper laughter, “What the hell’s the matter with you?” He snatches his own drink back sinking his neck down into his coat to keep the biting wind from his skin.

“Y-you’ve,” You choke out, pointing at your own nose, “You’ve g-got something here.”

You bring your hand up to his face, running the pad of your thumb over the tip of his nose, swiping the cream from his face. You go to pull it away, to wipe it away on the leg of your jeans, but Joel has other ideas, gripping your wrist to still you. He brings your hand to his mouth, enveloping your thumb into the heat of his mouth. You suck in a breath, feeling the tip of his tongue dart out against the skin, licking the cream off, before he drags your thumb from his mouth with a soft pop.

He drops your wrist from his hold, but you’re stuck, staring right at him, with the familiar throb of want settling across you.

“Thought it was too sweet for you?” You raise an eyebrow when you’ve composed yourself enough to speak.

He shrugs, takes hold of your hand and starts walking you back towards the tree, “If you’re gonna laugh at me, I ain’t gonna make it easy on you.” That familiar tone of grump is back, but you know he doesn’t mind really as he walks slowly, guiding you both to a bench that looks directly at the tree, dressed in red and gold, icy lights casting that familiar festive glow across everything.

He wipes the snow from the bench, makes sure it dry enough for you both to sit on, draping his arm across the back of it, encouraging you to curl into his side. The two of you sit for a while, watching the people come and go - young children excited to stand in line for the chance to meet Santa in his grotto, men on their own going from stall-to-stall, clearly shopping for last minute gifts, and couples, just like the two of you, wrapped up in nothing but each other as they hold hands, point things out to eat other.

“Thank you for coming,” You speak softly into his shoulder, looking up at him as he looks down at you, “I know it’s not really what you wanted, but I like that you’re here.”

“Of course it’s what I wanted,” He speaks just as softly, leaning down to press a featherlight kiss to the tip of your nose, “I only ever want to be where you are baby,” He motions his head to the scene in front of you, “Even if it is in the freezing cold, surrounded by too many people, wherever I’m with you, I’m happy, okay?”

You smile at him, tilt your head slightly, as his lips come down onto yours, cold and chapped from the winter air, but oh-so familiar as they slant across your own. You open your mouth against his, let your tongue meld with his own, the bitter of his coffee mixing with the sweet of your own drink. It’s soft, gentle, and over far too quickly. He pulls away, places two more soft pecks against your mouth, and then settles back against the bench, his hand now resting on your shoulder.

A shiver settles across your bones, something to do with the fact that even a few years into your relationship, he still sets you on fire without even trying, but mainly because it’s fucking freezing. Leant against Joel’s body, you feel him shiver a little too.

“Home?” You ask.

He looks back down at you, smiling a little with a nod, “Home.”

[iamirish]

Telling Joost that you are pregnant!

Joost Klein x female reader!

A/n: Just for context there will be a few words/sentences of Dutch and Irish in this, but the translations are in brackets. Also this is my first time ever writing so sorry if its terrible 😭

* Introduction!! Joost finds out you are pregnant. You two met when you were representing Ireland in the eurovision and he was representing The Netherlands. You two have been dating for about a year since then.*

My hands were planted on the cold bathroom counter as I looked down at the pregnancy test I had just taken. It had come back positive. I was confused about how I felt about the whole situation. I looked up at myself in the mirror and wiped away the tears in my eyes. My main worry was how would Joost react. We had never discussed about having kids before.

I then heard a soft tap on the bathroom door and a thick Dutch accent softly spoke and said "Can I come in?". I quickly wiped my eyes again and sniffled before saying "yeah you can come in". I shoved the test into my pocket before he came in. As he walked in he had a concerned look on his face. He held my hand and softly said "You look like you've been crying, is everything ok, mijn liefje?" (My love). I nodded before quietly saying "I'm alright....I need to tell you something but you have to promise not to be mad." He gave me a soft smile before gently saying "I pinky promise." as he interlocked our pinky fingers. I gave a small giggle before taking a breath.

It took moment before I just blurted it out "I....I'm pregnant Joost." I looked down at the ground as I felt more tears sting my eyes and handed him the positive test. He looked down at the test in his hand. I then felt Joost lift up my chin so I was looking at him. "Y/n, look at me." I then realised that he wasn't mad or upset, he was actually grinning. He then lifted me up and spun me around in a bear hug before before placing me back down to sit on the edge of our bed and cupping my face in his hands. He also leaned his forehead against mine. I could smell the cigarettes on his breath as he softly spoke and said "Schat, this is amazing news." (Babe)

As he noticed my off put demeanour he pulled away and held my hand as he raised his eyebrow and said "Unless you don't agree, no? Whatever you want to do, I'll support you, okay mijn liefje?" I looked at him and smiled softly and said "No, of course I think its great! I just wasn't expecting to be parents so soon, you know?" He nodded saying that he understood. He grinned again and pulled me into another tight hug as he kissed my forehead. I then whispered into his ear "Is bréa liom tú, Joost." (I love you, Joost). He softly kissed me on the lips before brushing my cheek with his thumb and saying "Ik hou ook van jou liefje." (I love you too darling).

A/n: Again, this was my first time ever writing so I hope anyone who reads this likes it!! I think I'm going to write another about him being a parent in a bit aswell.

[acewritesfics]

Hopelessly In Love | Tommy Shelby

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: No

Fic Type: Imagine

Warnings: Sarcasm, teasing, two idiots in love.

Word Count: 1,821

TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

“I need you," Y/N hears from behind her and turns around to see her best friend standing there, looking exasperated. 

“Good afternoon, Y/N. I sincerely hope your day is going well,” she begins sarcastically as she finishes hanging her mother's latest shipment of dresses on the racks.

Y/N works in her mother's boutique. A boutique in Small Heath sounded ridiculous considering the surroundings but her mother had opened the store, claiming that women needed a nice place to shop among the smoke and grime. “Well Thomas, it’s going so well that I’m sure nothing will bother me for the rest of the day, even when my best friend storms in like some neanderthal claiming he needs me like it’s a matter of life or death.” 

Tommy stood there, his hands in his pocket, looking at her unimpressed, his brows creased into a frown. A smug smirk stretches across her face. 

“What can I do you for, Tommy?” She asks, moving back behind the counter. 

“I need you to go to the races with me,” he tells her removing his hands from his pockets and stepping closer to the counter.  

“What? Has Hell frozen over or is it finally the day women have stopped throwing themselves at Thomas Shelby’s feet?” She teases her childhood friend. “Oh, Tommy, it must be hard,” she says pouting, giving her him a look of false sympathy.  

“Shut it, you,” he glares at her, elbows resting on the counter as he leans forward. “I’m being serious.” 

“Why do you want to take me to the races?” She questions him. They hadn’t been to the races together since before the war. It was sort of their tradition, one that was so easily forgotten when the war was over, and Tommy had thrown himself into making a better name for the Shelby’s. Instead of making the name better, he also made it fearful. “Why don’t you take that pretty barmaid you seem so smitten with. Or Lizzy, who’s more than eager to have a proper date with you.” 

“Why should I take them when I can take you, eh?” he asks, watching her as she busies herself with the clutter on the counter. She looks unsure but Tommy can tell that she’s thinking hard about it. “What are you afraid of?” 

“That you’ll forget all about the barmaid and fall hopelessly in love with me again,” she quips with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just like when we were kids. You could never resist my charm and we don't want to break the barmaid's poor treacherous heart.” 

Y/N couldn't deny that she did like Grace, the barmaid Harry had hired, at first. She seemed lovely and got along quite well with her until she realized Grace was asking her a lot of questions about Tommy. At first, she thought the blonde woman fancied her best friend and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. Grace wasn't the first woman to end up with a crush on the blue-eyed devil. Tommy wasn't hard to fall in love with. But when she started asking her about the Shelby family business and the Peaky Blinders, she became suspicious that Grace's interest in Tommy wasn't as genuine as she made it out to be. And then there was the time she caught Grace eavesdropping and snooping around. She began to put two and two together. 

An Irish inspector and a pretty Irish woman, step foot in Small Heath at the same time. The barmaid, who's never actually worked in a pub before now, conveniently gets herself a job at the Garrison, the pub the Shelby Brothers frequent often and just so happens to set her eyes on the leader of the Peaky Blinders.  

She'd tried to talk to Tommy about it, but the stubborn man wouldn't hear any of it so she went to Polly who had also done the math. For a man who claimed to be smart, he became the stupidest idiot she's ever met when it comes to a pretty face. 

“I knew that love tea would have consequences,” he smiles thinking of the times they sat with his mother while she did what she called magic. He purposefully ignores her comment about Grace. He didn't want to talk or think about her right now. His sole focus is on convincing Y/N to go to the races with him, like old times and how he'd promised her all those years ago. “Maybe it’s why I never stopped being hopelessly in love with you.” 

"Don't tell Grace that," she says looking back at him before moving on to inspect the next dress, a pretty deep forest green with black beading and a black lace hem. 

"Fuck Grace," he scoffs, rolling his eyes. "This is about us." 

"There is no us, Tommy," she sighs and moves on to the red dress that's not as pretty as the green.  

"Just come to the races with me," he begins. "I haven't taken you in a while. Let me take you again." 

"Do I have a choice?"  

He shakes his head, "No." 

She looks at him, her brows creased into a frown showing her frustration.  

"Wear the green one," he adds, dropping £7 onto the counter.  

"It's only worth £5," she informs him, knowing there is no point in arguing with him. Once Tommy was set on something, there was no stopping him. 

"Buy something to go with it," he suggests. "Maybe some new shoes," he adds as he takes the dress off the mannequin and hands it to her, placing a soft kiss on her cheek before he starts making his way out of the store. "I'll pick you up at 8:30 tomorrow morning." 

"I despise you, Thomas Shelby," she calls after him. 

"And I love you, Y/N L/N" he says when he reaches the door and turns to look at her once more. "Hopelessly love you." 

Her smile goes from ear to ear this time as she watches him leave, with a slight shake of her head. She turns to go back to the counter to wrap the dress up and startles when she sees her mother standing there, a knowing smirk on her lips.  

"It's about time that boy made his move," her mother says, taking the dress from her and folds it neatly on the paper they use to wrap the clothing in. "Better late than never, I guess." 

"It's not like that, Mum," she says picking up the £7 Tommy left and placing it inside the till.  

"Of course, it is," her mum argues, walking towards where the shoes are and picks out a pair of black t-strap heels, to match the beading on the dress and brings them over to the counter. "Thomas Shelby has been in love with you since you were both five years old and you've been in love with him for just as long," she adds placing the shoebox on the counter next to the dress. "Don't waste any more time, Darling." 

"I do love him," she admits. "Some days I wonder why." 

"And you'll have plenty more of those days," her mum chuckles. "Now get out of here and go rest up for tomorrow."  

"I love you, mum," she says hugging the woman who gave her life.  

"I love you too, sweetheart." 

"I must admit, I did miss this," Y/N says, sitting across the table from Tommy as they sat in the VIP area of the racecourse, in the forest green with black beading dress he paid for and heels her mother picked out. 

After a successful day at the races, they made their way up to the VIP lounge where they got a drink, a meal and did some dancing. Tommy was unable to keep his eyes off her from the moment he saw her standing on the curb waiting for him to pick her up. It made driving a little difficult since he tried his hardest to concentrate on the road and not the beautiful woman sitting next him. And then when they got to the races, he glared down, silently threatening the men who dared to let their eyes linger on her.  

"Do you remember the first time we snuck in here?" he asks her, a soft smile on his lips. Leaning back, he watches her as she thinks back to it.  

They were 16 at the time and she had come along with him, his brothers and his father. He'd been to the races plenty of times before, but she'd never been until that day. They both got dressed in their finest clothes back then, which were nowhere near the standard of clothing they were in today. Tommy had tried to talk his way into the VIP section, using that silver tongue of his that he had been born with. Unfortunately, it didn't work, and they had found a space in the back that they could use to sneak into the elegant area reserved for the wealthy.  

They'd spent 10 minutes in the area before they were escorted out and off the grounds of the racecourse and were made to wait there until his dad returned from being inside. That night Tommy had made her a promise. 

"I promise that one day, I will buy you the prettiest dress and we'll go back there, and they'll let us in. When they do, we'll spend the night dancing and when I take you home afterwards, I'll kiss you goodnight." 

She feels her heart skip a beat as she remembers word for word what he had promised her. As she got older, she had always played it off as a silly childish promise that held no real meaning.  

Tommy stood up from his chair and moved round the table, standing beside her as he held his hand out towards her. "Let's go home, Love." 

Y/N takes his hand and stands up, grabbing her clutch off the table and lets him lead her back to his vehicle.  

Once they arrive at the passenger's side, Tommy decides he can't wait until he drops her off home. Stopping her from getting into the car, he pulls her close, a hand on her waist and the other caresses her cheek. 

"Tommy," her voice comes out as a whisper as her heart jumps into her throat at the little space left between them.  

"I can't wait," he breathes, his voice soft as he plants his lips to hers in a soft and sweet kiss. Both their eyes flutter closed as a rush of warmth envelopes them as they pull each other as close as they can, deepening the kiss. 

Tommy is the one to end it when they start to become breathless. "I am hopelessly in love with you." 

"I know," she says, unable to hide her grin as she kisses him again. "I am hopelessly in love with you too, Thomas Shelby." 

TAGGED: @chapter-in-my-old-diary - @hanawrites404 - @goblinjnr - @halsteadbrasil - @rainydayteacups - @alexxavicry

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[nthspecialll]

In camp we have three irish people and I think their approach to their heitage is so interesting. We have Sean whos father was really proud of being Irish but who had to flee to USA when Sean around 11 or so, maybe even younger. We have Molly who grew up in Ireland, who lived in high society and found it boring so she went to USA as an adult and then we have Kieran whos father wanted to go to California and never really, as far as we know, had any connection to Ireland at all, doesn't even know the "correct" pronoucation of Colm.

Sean was young when he came to the US, most likely he remembered very little about Ireland itself, he might be able to remember a feeling or a few places, but yet he clings onto it, holds his nationally up and proud. I am more inclined to believe that rather than loving Ireland for being Ireland, he loves Ireland because his father loved Ireland, Sean always loved his father, worshipped him almost, even wears his hat. I don't think it would be a long shot to say that he likes Ireland because his father liked Ireland. His main source of information on his heritage was his father who was busy keeping them both alive and probably didn't have a lot of time to teach Sean about the Irish culture.

Sean clings onto the fact that he is Irish even though his knowledge of Ireland is limited because of his father.

Molly grew up with everything. She is Irish through and through, not just blood but also culture, she grew up around it, she was molded into it. She had her whole life to learn about the Irish culture and yet she didn't find it that interesting, she found it rather boring, so she fled for something more interesting, exotic, cowboys and outlaws.

Kieran did not have a long time to learn about Irish culture as his Irish father died when he was very young, completely cutting him off from his culture, however he got somewhat back in touch with it again when he was forced to join the O'Driscolls who are majority Irish, giving him a look into the culture and traditions that he had missed.

You can see Sean mocking Molly for not being "Irish enough" around camp even though she most likely knows more about Ireland and the culture than him, something he might feel threatened by as he was used to being the only Irishman around camp and now he might have to face the reality of his lack of knowledge about the very thing he prides himself on. He might also be angry at Molly because she threw away the very culture Sean tries to keep whereas Molly might find him stupid for so desperately trying to keep in touch with something she finds boring.

Kieran on the other hand never tells anyone he is Irish, he doesn't find it of much importance as his family didn't either, however he might carry more "casual" irish knowledge than what he might lead on. Being with the O'Driscolls would have in some way reintroduced him to his culture and he would have been taught at least some mannerisms that he might not even realize are Irish because he recognizes them from his childhood, a childhood where there was no focus on the fact they were Irish. For him slang, special dishes or mannerisms would feel natural as he also saw them as a kid, he wouldn't realize they are special. At the same time he wouldn't realize what parts of his culture are missing such as his pronunciation of "Colm" which Sean angrily points out is actually pronounced "Col-om", Kieran doesn't see that he is saying it "wrong."

Sean who clings onto the culture ripped away from him.

Molly who is so used to the culture she finds it boring.

Kieran who doesn't even know he is carrying a culture with him.

[hamliet]

Derry Girls: A Masterclass in Detailed, Thematic Writing

Several years after the end, I finally watched Derry Girls, and it's become one of my favorite shows. Not only for the way it captures the absolutely unhinged aspects of Irish families (askmehowiknow) but for the sheer writing skill.

The vast majority of the episodes are laugh-out-loud hilarious, while also offering insightful commentary on the Troubles and on humanity's foibles as a whole. The characters are allowed to be human and act in unlikable, unsanitized ways, and to still be human and come back from that. (Almost like a metaphor for the Troubles or something.)

The story is also incredibly detailed; for example, when the girls are accused of killing a nun and Erin points out the nun was like, 98 years old and askes "might that shed some light on the situation?" there's an hourglass behind Sister Michael--emphasizing the idea that her time was up. Even more than that... the window is behind the hourglass, literally shining a light on it.

But that's a micro level. On a macro level, I also appreciated the way the story discusses the political backdrop that is part of its premise. Even as Erin, Michelle, James, Clare, and Orla grow up in a place that's been in a state of low-level warfare for decades, they live full lives. In fact, that's kinda the point.

Case in point: episode 4 of the first season, wherein Erin gets an exchange student from Chernobyl. The way the Northern Irish in general treat the Ukrainians is hilariously awful and patronizing, believing that they are giving them a respite from the troubles "over there" while Northern Ireland isn't in a much better state. But, as Sister Michael assures the Ukrainian students, the Irish troubles don't matter because "we're the goodies."

This line gets to the heart of what the episode is saying about political divisions and the way people view an "other." Everyone sees themselves as the "goodies." Because of that, they don't self-examine and wind up hurting the people they see themselves as wanting to help/save with their ignorance. It's a paradoxical egotistical (and frankly teenage) worldview that is also unwilling to look critically at oneself. The focus on their own perceptions over focusing on the actual humanity of the other results in ruining gifts that could come with cross-culture interaction, as seen in how Erin's misunderstandings and petty jealousy of Katya leads to her literally ruining a surprise gift Katya had prepared.

And the end of the episode also comments thematically on the story. One of the Ukrainian boys turns out not to be Ukrainian after all--he's actually Irish and from just down the road. He just didn't know how to say that. The ironic message is clear: despite differences in culture and views, they are actually all human beings, and assumptions make it hard for people to speak. If they could actually talk openly and without presumptions about who is "good" and who is "bad," they could prevent and solve a lot of problems.

This kind of background, symbolic commentary on the Troubles continues in just about every episode of the series. For example, even after the ceasefire, season 3 has an episode where it's discussed how negotiations are stalling, and the entirely of the rest of the episode takes place on a train that stalls between two separate places.

The Troubles are always something affecting their lives, but the only time the Troubles ever become the main story is in the finale episode. Which is also an episode that makes everyone cry. Michelle's brother is finally mentioned for the first time the entire series, yet it doesn't feel like a retcon so much as a recontextualization, and again mirrors how a lot of society (and Michelle's own family) have treated those who murdered others during the conflict.

Erin and James' relationship also works as a metaphor for the Troubles--an Irish Catholic girl and an English boy. Earlier in season 3, after they finally kiss, they're told they can't be together, that it's wrong, and that it'll create problems for everyone around them. Michelle doesn't want things to change. And Erin agrees that it's not good to pursue something.

But, in the final scenes, as Erin prepares to vote in the Good Friday Agreement and talks to James, she directly states she thinks things can't stay the same forever--thereby countering what she said to reject James earlier:

There's a part of me that wishes everything could just stay the same. That we could all just stay like this forever. There's a part of me that doesn't really want to grow up. I'm not sure I'm ready for it. I'm not sure I'm ready for the world. But things can't stay the same, and they shouldn't. No matter how scary it is, we have to move on, and we have to grow up, because things... well, they might just change for the better. So we have to be brave. And if our dreams get broken along the way... we have to make new ones from the pieces.

Symbolically, also, given that we know the outcome of the Good Friday Agreement, I think it's pretty clear Erin and James end up together even if we're not directly shown it.

That the last shot of the episode (besides the funny epilogue) is Grandda Joe, one of the eldest characters, helping his youngest toddler granddaughter Anna leap over a threshold as they leave the voting station, is also incredibly clear in its symbolism.

Erin: People died. Innocent people died, Grandda. They were someone's mother, father, daughter, son. Nothing can ever make that okay. And the people who took those lives, they're just gonna walk free? What if we do it, and it's all for nothing? What if we vote yes and it doesn't even work? Grandda Joe: And what if it does? What if no one else has to die? What if this all becomes a--a ghost story you'll tell your wee-un's some day? A ghost story they'll hardly believe?

I dunno, I think this is a sentiment we need more of in the world. A peaceful future means taking risks and accepting that punitive justice will not be perfectly doled out; however, if you allow more people to be hurt, is that not also injustice? It's a paradox that the story leaves us without a dogmatic answer to (for example, we never find out if Michelle's brother gets released), but it's also hopeful--because we know that the Good Friday Agreement largely worked.

(For further analysis of the final scene, I recommend PillarofGarbage's analysis on YouTube!)

[mage-of-mip]

Half-Foots and Ainu Culture in Dungeon Meshi

It sometimes feels like I might be grasping at straws with this, but I do feel like it's not completely unfounded. Please note, I am a white woman living in the USA, I am by no means an expert on Japanese culture in general, much less a marginalized subculture. I have simply made limited attempts to educate myself out of genuine interest born from exposure to media about Ainu characters and culture. I am always hoping to learn more.

I think it's fairly obvious that many parallels can be drawn between Ryoko Kui's Half-Foot race, and more than one ethnicity or subculture in real life. Romani, Irish, and Jewish stereotypes come to mind immediately.

But I think there's another one that may be explored less in the text, and much harder to catch by a western reader, but nonetheless could be intended by Kui, or perhaps was at one point. That of the Ainu people of Hokkaido, Japan.

There's not a lot of translated information about the Ainu online, so please bear with my limited knowledge. In short, the Ainu are the indigenous people of Northern Japan. For generations, their way of life has been taken from them and they were forced to assimilate to the wider Japanese culture. There are not many who still fully practice the cultural heritage in this day, but there are movements to bring the Ainu culture back.

In Delicious in Dungeon, there are two instances that reference the Ainu, both relating to Chilchuck. This could, of course, be a coincidence, especially if there are more references that I missed. It may be flimsy, but it still feels significant that this is the case, and that Half-Foots are or were meant to be an allusion to the Ainu.

This is the first instance. A significant panel in the context of the story. To my knowledge, this is the only specifically Ainu dish that's referenced in the text. On it's own, its just an interesting factoid, and the same dark humor that's being used for all the other character deaths in this fight against Thistle.

This is the second instance. From the supplemental material rather than the main story, Chilchuck is discussing what Half-Foots are called across the languages. The one that caught my eye here is the one in the top corner. Koropokkur.

The Koropokkur are a race of small people in Ainu folklore, their name meaning "those who live under the butterbur leaves".

Again, in a vacuum, this could just be a Japanese person using a Japanese word in her manga. But I think it's interesting that the two instances of Ainu culture being referenced have to do with Chilchuck and Half-Foots as a whole. It could warrant a deeper read-through looking for other references, perhaps by someone more educated than myself.

I think this could have some interesting implications in the wider worldbuilding. Perhaps the Half-Foots have faced similar cultural erasure and assimilation attempts, which is why a lot of their customs and clothing are just "Tallman but smaller", and why other races regularly mistake them for the children of tallmen, despite having pretty noticeable differences in how they look other than just their height(their disproportionately large ears, for example).

This idea might be a tad more indulgent, but I also like the idea that Half-Foot children don't receive a permanent name until they are toddlers. At one point, in Ainu culture(this may not be practiced today, I could not find information on that), the Ainu would give their children "vulgar" placeholder names until they started forming personalities, as a ward against evil spirits. Perhaps the same is done for Half-Foot children, and their two part names are selected when they are a little older.

Again, these are just the observations of an outsider looking in, please feel free to correct any mistakes I may have made! And if I'm completely off-base or have said something offensive, I apologize and will delete or amend the post as necessary.

[ladamedusoif]

Tempered in the Fire - Part Four

See the Series Masterlist for complete content warnings, historical event information, and series notes.

Cross-posted to AO3. Follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications for updates.

Pairing: Blacksmith!Din Djarin x F! Reader

Summary: Ireland, almost a decade after the rebellion of 1798. You are an unusual woman: married, but alone; a widow, with no certainty her husband is dead. When your local blacksmith is badly injured in an accident and unable to work, you have no choice but to travel to the next forge, run by a man of few words whose uncertain origins and dark complexion make him stand out among the locals. You are immediately intrigued by this mysterious, taciturn figure - and the striking little boy he’s taken as his apprentice.

Word Count: 7.1k

Rating: Explicit; 18+ MDNI (chapter; series)

Content (chapter specific): Blacksmith!Din AU; historical setting; angst; smut; violence; unprotected PiV sex; oral sex (F and M receiving); racist (anti-Traveller) language; period-typical misogyny; references to domestic physical, emotional, and sexual abuse; references to family loss and death; abusive and derogatory language; strong language.

Translations for the Irish language provided throughout as needed, though I have not translated mo chuisle as a term of endearment (it literally means 'my pulse', more usually used as 'my love').

A/N: I am so, so sorry for the gap between chapters here and am grateful to the readers who've been so patient! Thanks, too, as ever, to @paulmescal-s for working through the gnarlier bits of this story with me and being such a great sort-of beta.

In the future, after many years had passed, you would find it hard to remember exactly how much time you had together, at the forge, before the hard reality came knocking at your door. Those days and nights of domestic happiness could never have been enough.

By day, you keep house, sew, and bake. Each morning, you do some basic reading and writing with Gró, or take the little boy around the hedgerows and trees at the boundary of the property, teaching him the names of plants and animals. Din had explained your presence to him, and he beamed every morning when his father carried him down the attic ladder and he saw you again. 

Din, so used to being the lone adult in the household, insists on contributing to the routine: cooking, cleaning, setting the fire. It feels so natural, so right - and yet a blade dangles over this strange little found family, ready to drop at any moment. 

Each evening, Din readies Gró for bed, sometimes bathing his son in a tin bath in front of the fire while you tell him a story by way of distraction. It has quickly become a highlight of the blacksmith’s day, these moments where he watches as you make his beloved boy squeal with laughter, or hold his rapt attention with the twists and turns of a tale. 

They were content and settled, this clan of two. But Din couldn’t help the daydreams about a clan of three that sometimes flashed through his mind. 

He took every opportunity he could to touch you throughout the day. A squeeze of your hand at the breakfast table as Gró drained his cup of milk. A discreet kiss to your cheek as he made his way into the forge for his morning’s work. A gentle caress of your waist as he passes you while you’re laying the table for the main meal, taken in the middle of the day. 

With Gró settled and asleep in the loft, the two of you moved more hastily in the evenings, now, to sort the things for breakfast and smother the fire. The sooner the chores were done, after all, the sooner you could shed your clothes and climb into his bed together. 

The nervous caution of your first time together soon dissipated as you grew more familiar with each other, more in tune with each other’s needs and desires. For all his inexperience and your difficult past, the two of you are perfectly-matched lovers. The feeling of Din’s broad body on yours, glistening with sweat, begins to exorcise the demons of the past. You ride him on top, one hand intertwined with his as he squeezes your breasts and watches you come. He slips his cock inside you one morning as you’re lying together, your back pressed to his chest, and fucks you slowly and carefully until you’re both coming quietly, mouths pushed into the pillows. One evening, he was even too impatient for bed, hitching up your skirts and taking you over the heavy wooden table, hand pressed against your mouth as you whined against his palm. 

“I want to learn you,” Din whispered one night, easing your long shift off so that you were completely bare, lying alongside his own naked body. 

You traced your fingertips along the softness of his lips. “Learn me?”

His strong, clever fingers roamed over you as he nodded. “Learn you. Know you, all of you.” He squeezed your tits softly, sucking gently on each nipple. “Commit you to memory. How you feel, how you fit together. Do you like this?”

You wound your fingers through his messy curls and nodded. He followed the curves of your body with his broad, calloused hands, moving over your waist and holding your hips firmly as he reverently kissed your belly. He took his time, hands memorising the exact shape and volume of your form.

“You are a beauty, mo chuisle,” he murmured, dark eyes looking up at you from between your legs. “So lovely and soft and warm.”

His fingers pressed into the meat of your thighs as he mapped you out, and you felt the wetness between your legs as your hips bucked upwards, legs parting instinctively. 

“Can I…see, mo chuisle?” Din’s palm grazed over the hair covering your mound. “See you…see you here?”

“Of course, my darling.” You opened your legs wider for him, watching as his eyes grew round in awe, before darkening with lust. He reached for his cock, whimpering a little as he stroked himself. 

“That’s beautiful.” He had shifted his head closer to your centre, his expression a little bashful. “I’d like to kiss you here.  Would that be alright?”

“Please, darling,” you hissed. “Put your mouth on me.”

“I’ve never…” He exhaled nervously as he settled between your legs, fingers already playing with your wet folds. “Never even thought of this, but…”

You ran your fingers through his hair and smiled, understanding what he was trying to say. “You’ll know just what to do, love.”

This was new to you, too, though you had heard of men doing it to their girls, especially if they were not meant to lie together. Your friend Mary had, just prior to her marriage, confided in you that she and her betrothed had found a way to sate their passions without the risk of her falling pregnant before the wedding. 

“The mouth is a great thing, all the same,” she’d said, dangling her bare feet in the cool water of the local river on a warm summer day as the two of you lazed on the grassy bank, skirts hitched to your knees. She had explained the mechanisms of it to you, chuckling at your sceptical expression. 

“Just wait, girleen. Just you wait and see.”

Now Din’s soft, plush lips were pressed against your slit, tongue tasting your wetness, and you finally understood what she meant. It was heaven: the way his lips brushed against the little bundle of nerves and made your whole body convulse with pleasure, the sensation of his patchy beard against your thighs, how he began to slip his tongue in and out of you. His grunts and moans vibrated against your core and you came hard against him, giggling when you saw the slick glistening all over his smiling face. 

In the nights to come, you returned the favour, languidly sucking and licking at his perfect cock while he held your head in place with his broad hands, hips bucking up against you as he groaned with sheer pleasure.

You paused, reminding him that he needed to be quieter, before slipping his cock between your lips again. “‘S not my fault, mo chuisle,” he panted, eyes locked on how his hard length disappeared into your pretty mouth. “Feels far too good.” 

As he came in your mouth for the first time, you’d looked up at his beautiful face, release and pleasure and affection written on every part of it, and begged whatever deity might listen to let you stay here forever.

Din is more comfortable showing his feelings through actions, physical gestures, than words. Little by little, though, you notice him opening up more, saying more. Not that he’d ever be what you could consider a talker. 

One night, nestled together, you ask him to tell you about himself.

"I want to hear your story, Din.” The comforting caress of your hand against his face makes him smile softly.

"I don’t know what there is to tell.”

You cuddle closer to him, enjoying the feel of his solid frame against you. “Well, I don’t know much about your family, for one…”

He shifts a little in bed and for an instant you worry you have overstepped the mark. 

“It’s not a very happy story, mo chuisle, but if you want to know…”

A kiss to the expanse of broad, tanned chest exposed at the neck of his nightshirt. “I want to know. If you want to tell me.”

He finds your hand and presses it to his chest, seeking reassurance in your familiar touch, and taking a deep breath before he begins to whisper his story to you.

"I’m a travelling person. I don’t know where I was born - other than that it was probably somewhere towards the west of the country, on a campsite. I have - had - an older sister, a younger brother. Lived off the money from whatever work my father could get - fixing pots and pans, mostly, sometimes farm labour, depending on the season.”

"A hard living.”

He nods, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. “Hard, but loving.” He inhales deeply, again, before continuing.

"We were never really wanted anywhere. Moved on, camps disturbed, even attacked, sometimes. We learned quickly how to hide at the first sign of trouble.”

He closes his eyes, a flash of sorrow crossing his beautiful features in the moonlight coming through the little cottage window. “I suppose that’s what saved me.”

For a few moments, Din is quiet. 

“We had camped on land that was part of some big estate, belonging to Lord somebody or other. The usual situation. My father and a couple of our other men went fishing the first day and poaching the first night, to get us some food. I can still see the scales of the big salmon he caught, glinting in the firelight as my mother cleaned it.”

"A feast.”

He nods, a little smile on his lips at the memory, before his features darken again. “But not our feast to take. The lord’s feast, by virtue of the land being given to him by some far-off king.” He shakes his head ruefully.

"I was coming back with some cans of water the next morning when I heard shouting. The glimpses of red moving towards the camp - the yeomanry. The landlord set them on us, and they gave us no quarter. When some of our men and women tried to defend our few possessions, they - well, they turned violent.”

You hold him close, feeling the anguish in his breathing.

"I saw my father fall, killed by a blow to the head with the butt of a yeoman’s musket. My mother caught a glimpse of me, roared at me to run, to hide, and to my eternal shame I did just that. I didn’t go to them. I ran.”

"She wanted you to live, Din. She was saving you.”

He swallows hard, audible in the stillness of the night. 

“The local priest found me a couple of days later, still carrying the empty can. I’d hidden in a ditch, ate blackberries to survive. He arranged for the local blacksmith and his wife to take me in, train me as an apprentice.” 

He pauses again. You realise this is the most he’s probably ever said to you in one go. 

“When the time came, I took to the roads myself, honing the craft before I could set up on my own. I wasn’t long back when the priest called, saying a cousin in the east knew of an empty forge in need of a good smith.”

"And that’s how you came here?”

Din nods. “That’s how I came to be here.”

You venture a sensitive question. “Din… what happened to your mother, your siblings?”

"Poorhouse. No other choice.”

Silence.

"I didn’t know where they’d gone. So much sickness in those godforsaken places…”

Another pause.

”My brother died first. Then my sister, and then my mother.”

Your voice is tiny, barely a whisper. “Did you… see them?”

"By the time we found out what poorhouse they were in… it was too late.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you do your best not to let them fall. This is his story, his grief, not yours. Instead, you shift up the bed a little, still holding his warm body close, and lean in to caress and kiss him. 

There’s a wet, salty tang on his cheek. You kiss away the silent tear. 

For a moment, you think of what Din told you about how he came to adopt Gró: his unwillingness to let the boy go to a poorhouse or orphanage, his desire to protect and train the child, just as he himself had once been taken in by the smith and his wife. Just as he, himself, had once been a lost little boy. 

You press your lips to the messy curls at the crown of his head. 

There are times when you almost forget that you’re not really meant to be here, so natural and right does it feel. And then you are jolted back, reluctantly, to a reality where you are still technically the wife of a violent, cruel man who could claim you at any moment. 

That afternoon, you hear the sound of horses approaching and immediately disappear up to the loft, as usual, until you know it’s safe to descend. You listen attentively as the door opens and breathe a sigh of relief when Gró’s delighted little voice greets Peigí, here on one of her regular visits. You hear Din enter the cottage from the forge, chatting companionably to his old friend, and make for the ladder.

You’re a few rungs down when you hear a second, less familiar voice.

“So where is she, Din?”

He stutters, the panic evident in his voice. You wonder if you can make it back to the loft. 

Too late.

Father Carthy hears the sound of your skirts and turns, greeting you by name in grave tones. 

“You might as well come and join us, my child.”

Peigí’s gaze is apologetic as you climb down the ladder and move to join the little cluster of adults, Din having sent Gró outside to play. You stand beside him, arms wrapped protectively over your body, resisting the urge to reach for his hand. 

“I’m sorry, girleen.” Peigí wrings her hands, expression anxious and sorrowful. “Father came to see me today before I left for the forge, I couldn’t turn him out.”

You meet Father Carthy’s eyes with a look of defiance, straightening yourself to your full height, silently demanding an explanation.

“I am not here to force you home. I know your…situation.” The priest exhales deeply, fingers fiddling with the little black buttons on his long robes. “And between us and the wall and the Lord Almighty, if that kind of cruelty and abandonment was grounds for annulment… well.”

The back of Din’s hand brushes almost imperceptibly against yours. 

“But you are still a married woman, and…” The cleric sighs apologetically. “My child, you were seen here. Out in the back field, with the boy. And if I’ve heard it, and people are talking, then it’s only a matter of time before -”

You interject in a low, steady voice. “Before Searlas finds out where I am.”

The priest nods sadly. “That’s why I came here. Why I came with Peigí, specifically. We… have a suggestion.” He looks expectantly at Peigí, who offers you an encouraging smile as she nods in agreement.

“My sister, Rosie - she’s in the next county, big farm, spinster, plenty of space and could do with the help. You could stay there for a bit and then come home to your own place - until they change the garrison, surely, or that wastrel Searlas can be warned off…”

You bite your lip, mulling it over. 

“I mean, maybe he’s not going to come looking for me.”

Peigí and the priest exchange a concerned glance. The cleric clasps his hands together and looks at you sympathetically.

“The thing is… I have eyes and ears, as it were, in the barracks, and in the public house preferred by the garrison. I didn’t want to tell you, my dear, in case it frightened you - but he has been talking about you.” He purses his lips, almost afraid to tell you the truth. “He has openly talked about finding you, about… claiming you. And if he finds out you’ve been staying here, with a bachelor - think of your reputation, my child.”

You let out an involuntary sob, and Peigí places a comforting hand on your arm. “I think you need to be gone tomorrow, girleen. At the latest. I’m sorry, I know it’s awful quick, but…”

For the first time, Din speaks. His voice is low, controlled, serious. 

“But you - I mean, she must be kept safe.” He looks at you, dark eyes full of care and concern. “If you want to stay, I will keep you safe. I promise.”

There’s nothing more you want in the world than to throw your arms around him and let him protect you, just as you long to protect him from the sorrows of his past. But his description of the day he lost his parents echoes in your mind, as does the tension that crackled in the air the day the soldiers were at the forge. You cannot - will not - bring that down on him again, nor on Gró.

“Din, if I stay here I fear that none of us will be safe. Not you, not me, not Gró. I couldn’t take that risk, my d-” You catch yourself just in time. “I mean, my dear friend.”

Peigí’s wise, inquisitive eyes dart between you and Din, and she emits a low, intrigued hum.

Din exhales in frustration. “I said I would keep you safe, here. I mean it.”

Father Carthy places a paternal hand on Din’s shoulder, expression gentle but resigned. “She’s right, Din, and you know it. Apart from her own reputation - you don’t want a troop of redcoats landing on the doorstep, do you? Think of your home, your livelihood - your son.”

The blacksmith’s expression is defiant, but you can see the reality of the situation dawning on him as the light fades from his beautiful eyes. He nods, silent, a hand twisting at the soft, worn leather of his apron.

“Early as we can after dawn tomorrow, then?” Peigí squeezes your hand as she waits for your answer.

You cannot bring yourself to look at Din as you nod in agreement. 

It is still bright outside, just about, when Gró is settled for bed and the dinner things cleared and tidied away. You have packed up your saddlebags in silence, fighting the tears that threaten to fall at any moment.

Din’s broad hand reaches around your waist as he moves past you, pulling you close to him. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, kissing the delicate skin.

“Can we take a little walk, mo chuisle? Before night falls?”

You face him, tracing the line of his jaw with your fingers. “A little one. Don’t forget there’s a little boy asleep in the loft, we can’t go too far.”

He presses his lips to your fingertips before kissing you on the forehead. 

You walk hand in hand in the dusk, wandering through the field at the back of the forge towards the old oak tree that stands at the boundary of the property. Din is quiet - even quieter than usual, just casting occasional glances in your direction and squeezing your hand with a gentle smile.

In the shadow of the oak, he kisses you deeply, pressing your body against the tree as he holds your face in his big, strong hands. 

“I don’t want to go, Din.”

“I don’t want you to go, mo chuisle.” He kisses you again, chastely, and looks in your eyes. A question hovers on the tip of his tongue.

“Tell me, my darling.”

He holds your hands, grounding himself a little in your comforting touch. 

“I want you to take Gró to Peigí’s sister’s. Please.”

Even in the half-light, he can read the shock on your face.

“Oh, Din, I… I couldn’t. I couldn’t see the two of you parted, he’d be lost without you and you without him and-”

He shakes his head firmly. “I have to keep you safe - both of you. And if a gang of redcoats turned up and it was just me and him…”

He saw his father die. 

“He’s your son.” 

Din nods. “He is. And I can’t leave him alone again.”

He lost his entire family.

“He might not want to leave with me.”

“I’ve explained it to him. He knows it’s not forever, he understands the reasons why.” You catch a glimpse of his smile, a beacon of hope in the twilight. 

“Mo chuisle, you’re the closest thing he has to a mother in this world.”

You hold each other close through the night, afraid to sleep lest you miss a single second of this time together. 

Din tucks his face into the side of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply and softly kissing the exposed skin of your shoulders. You wind your fingers through his hair, trying to memorise the rhythm of his heartbeat and his breath.

"You should sleep, mo chuisle,” he whispers against your body. “Tomorrow will be a hard one.”

"Says you,��� you whisper in return, enough to elicit a muffled chuckle from the blacksmith. 

He pulls away to look you in the eye, fingers mapping the shape of your features. Even in the low light, you can see how his beautiful eyes glisten: this strong and stoic man, fighting the tears that threaten to fall.

You take his hand and guide it down your body, pausing to hitch up your shift and open your legs. You inhale sharply as his fingers find your pussy, well-practiced now from nights and early mornings spent pleasuring you. 

With a shift of your hips you roll onto your back, bringing Din on top of you. You pause to take in the sight, suppressing the gnawing feeling that this might well be the last time. The glint in his dark eyes. The moonlight illuminating his features. The feeling of his strong, broad body above you, perfectly positioned between your thighs. 

“Make love to me, Din.” 

He does so slowly, carefully, anchoring himself with one hand on your hip and the other still caressing the side of your face. You kiss as he fucks you, your whines absorbed by his soft mouth. No man had ever made you come before Din, you muse, as your cunt pulses around him and you near the edge. No man had ever made you feel like this - not just physically, but emotionally, too. Sex was presented to you before your marriage as a duty, not a pleasure. With Din, though, lovemaking felt like the most beautiful, natural expression of the spiritual connection that existed between the two of you. 

You come almost simultaneously, Din groaning into your shoulder as he fills you with his seed, you biting your lip to stop yourself from crying out. Still inside you, he kisses you, over and over, your hands trailing through his wavy brown locks and fingers grazing against the rough, patchy stubble of his jaw. 

For a moment, you think he’s about to say something. But all he does is kiss you.

It’s still dark outside when you wake, but there’s a comforting glow inside the cottage. You sit up in bed, turning to see Din stoking a small fire in the hearth. He has lit the lamp on the mantle, its flickering yellow flame casting light and shadow through the glass. 

You dress quickly, shivering as your body adjusts to the colder air after the warmth of your shared bed, and cross the room to the little cupboard that holds the few pieces of crockery Din owns. By the time he has climbed the attic ladder to rouse the boy, you’ve set the table for a simple breakfast of bread, butter, and the last of the jam you’d brought with you. 

Gró’s fair hair peeks over his father’s broad shoulder as Din carries him down the ladder. The little boy is still half-asleep, eyes still closed and nestled into the blacksmith’s frame. Din carefully slides him into his usual seat at the table, ruffling his son’s hair as Gró rubs his eyes and yawns. 

“I think some bread and jam will help wake you up, hmmm?” You take a couple of slices of bread from the dish and place them on the boy’s little plate, before pushing the jar of jam in his direction. His dark eyes widen as he looks at you, astonished. This is a rare treat, indeed: usually it’s you or Din who spreads the sweet conserve on his bread, as Gró is liable to be heavy-handed. But this is not a day for rules or restrictions.

“You can have as much as you like, little one.” 

The tears threaten at the sight of Gró enthusiastically scraping the jam out of the earthenware pot, a huge smile on his face as he spoons it liberally onto the soda bread. He takes a huge bite and hums delightedly, before turning to you and beaming. The little boy already has blobs of jam on his cheeks and nose, and the sight makes you chuckle. 

Din returns to the main room carrying a small knapsack containing Gró’s things. He places it alongside your saddlebags before he joins the two of you at the table, giving your hand a squeeze that, you suspect, is intended to reassure him as much as it is you. He keeps a smile on his face, keeps his tone cheery and light, even as his eyes glisten with tears. 

You are saddling Réaltín in the dawn light when Peigí appears down the lane, wrapped in a rough brown cloak and riding her small grey mount. She dismounts swiftly and nods to you. 

“All set?”

“I think so. I left the two on their own for a little bit, just to… well, you know.” You swallow hard and look in the direction of the forge. “It’ll be hard for them.”

Peigí hums in agreement. “Aye, ’twill. But Din’s right. And hopefully that bollocks of a so-called husband will be out of the picture soon enough and you can come home. The prick.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the venom in her tone. “Hopefully. I’m awful grateful to you and your sister, Peigí. I mean, maybe we’re being overly cautious, but…”

She shakes her head, russet curls bouncing. “Not a bit of it. You can never tell with a fucker like that.” The cottage door opens, and Din appears, Gró securely held in his strong arms. 

“And there’s the best boy in all of Ireland!” Peigí races over, taking the knapsack and planting a kiss on Gró’s cheek. “We should probably get going, girleen.”

She tactfully retreats to the horses, giving you, Din, and Gró some space to say your goodbyes. You feel the blacksmith’s broad arm snake around your waist, uncaring as to whether Peigí saw the affectionate gesture - or, more likely, all too aware that she knew exactly what was going on. 

The little boy brings a hand up to touch his father’s handsome face, big eyes scanning Din’s features as if he’s committing them to memory. 

“Ná bíodh eagla ort, grá mo chroí.” [Don’t be afraid, love] The blacksmith smiles, but he’s fighting back the tears as he kisses his son’s golden hair. Instinctively, you rest your head on Din’s shoulder, trying to keep your own emotions in check. 

Gró’s dark eyes fill with tears and his father comforts him with cuddles. “You’ll have a lovely time on the farm, won’t you? And you’ll look after her while you’re on your visit.” He looks at you, and you nod, smiling at Gró.

“Of course he will. He’s a big, brave lad.” The little boy grins at the praise before flinging his arms around Din’s neck for a final tight hug.

“Be good, and take this.” Din reaches into his pocket to produce a small, silvery chain, evidently made by his own hands. A metal disc dangles from it, and you realise that Din has engraved it with his son’s name. He places it over the boy’s head, smiling at Gró as he picks up the pendant and coos at the shiny object.

“We should get going, lads.” Peigí’s voice carries in the still of the early morning, and Din passes his son to you. Gró nuzzles against you, still holding on to the little pendant that hangs from his neck. 

Din’s long fingers find your hand and press something into your palm. He leans in to kiss your cheek. His voice, warm but wavering with emotion, whispers in your ear. 

 “Is tú mo ghrá thú, mo chuisle.” [You are my love, my darling.]

You stifle the sob that’s rising in your chest. 

“I love you too, Din.”

Peigí’s sister Rosie shares her sister’s hardy, forthright personality and her tightly curled auburn hair, but not a lot else. Where Peigí is small, Rosie is tall; where Peigí is talkative and open, Rosie is quiet and reserved. Still, her welcome is genuine, her home comfortable, and you feel at ease from the moment you cross the threshold after a long day’s journey to some semblance of sanctuary.

You retire quickly once you’ve been fed and watered, Peigí sharing with Rosie while you and Gró make do with a settle bed. The little boy falls asleep almost immediately, and you gently kiss his soft cheek, willing him to know that it comes from his father, too.

With the household abed, you can finally look again at Din’s parting gift to you: a chain and pendant, similar to Gró’s. Where the little boy’s bears his name, however, yours carries a symbol, evidently engraved into the metal by the blacksmith himself. Three interconnected spirals - an ancient symbol, one that you recognise from a dolmen tomb that stands in a field not far from your birthplace, one that people in the locality have long speculated about.

Father Carthy would say it is a symbol of the Holy Trinity: three divine beings in one, a sign of early Christians in Ireland. But the storytellers in the townland say it’s far older than any church, its meaning lost to the mists of time.

You trace the three spirals with your fingertip in the darkness. Three as one. For you, that is meaning enough.

He was alone for a long time, Din reminds himself - alone before you, alone even before Gró. He can be alone again.

That said, though, there’s being alone and not knowing anything different, and being alone now. He still automatically goes to the foot of the attic ladder every morning, ready to wake his little boy. He hides the bowl and cup Gró usually uses, because the sight of them makes his heart ache. He throws himself into his work, distracting himself with glowing-hot metal.

And then there is your absence. He had never lived with a woman, not like this; never shared his bed night after night, never loved like this. For the first few days, he wakes with a start when he reaches for your warm, soft body and realises you’re not there. 

He tries not to think about the reality of the situation: the fact that, even if you were to return home tomorrow, you could never be together, at least not while Searlas lived. There are nights when, alone in his bed and desperate for the embrace of your arms, violence tempts Din. In his younger years, he might already have taken matters into his own hands. 

As the days and weeks tick by with no sign of your so-called husband, and no word from Father Carthy, the blacksmith reminds himself to be patient - and not to fall into complacency. He had never really lost that sense of looking over his shoulder: from childhood, from the rebellion, and now he felt glad of it. No one from the community mentions you to him, though he knows they must have heard by now that you had been hiding from Searlas at the forge. He does his repairs as usual, driving into the village with his pony and trap to return items and collect others, pulling his kerchief over his face as he makes his way through the main street lest he spy a troop of redcoats. 

One of the regular customers asks about Gró when he’s returning her extra-large soup pan, newly mended. Din hesitates, but keeps his expression steady.

“He’s spending time with some…cousins,” he explains. “On a farm. It’ll be good for him, he’ll learn from the experience.”

The woman doesn’t ask further, pays up, and retreats back into her little house as Din turns his horse and cart for home. As he gathers speed, he hears a voice calling his name. Father Carthy, clad in his long black cassock and wearing a broad-brimmed hat, is waving to him from the end of the laneway that leads to the chapel. 

“Could you spare me a few moments, Din? Follow me up to the parish house.”

The priest’s house is a decently-sized cottage, larger but not too dissimilar to the majority of the dwellings in the village. Father Carthy might be responsible for the majority of the believers in the community, but his is not the “established” church, the official church of the state and gentry, and as such his home is a far cry from the grand, double-fronted manse occupied by the vicar who tends to the local worthies. Even the location of the chapel, tucked off a narrow laneway behind the main street, is a testament to the lower status of this particular branch of religion.

Din enters, taking off his hat and kerchief, and follows the cleric’s gesture to take a seat near the hearth. Father Carthy does the same, pulling his chair closer to Din.

“I have news. I haven’t been able to find a way to dissuade Searlas from seeking her out, but a little bird tells me that they’re going to change the troops again in a week or so. The current crop has been…rowdy.” The priest purses his lips, mulling over the stories he has heard of public drunkenness, fighting, and even soldiers nonchalantly carousing with women in the pubs and on the street. He decides not to give Din too many of the gory details. 

“So they’re going to be sent elsewhere, split up. Clonmel, I heard, for some, and Castlebar for others. Maybe a few to Cork. There’s ructions, as you can imagine - a rare thing to break up a regiment - but…”

Din meets the priest’s meaningful gaze. “But…he would be gone.”

Father Carthy nods. “It’s not a solution, not forever, but it at least would let her come home to her own place again, and Gró home to you. You were right to send the boy with her, too - who knows what might have happened had he come knocking?”

Din closes his eyes and furrows his brow at the priest’s turn of phrase: “her own place”. It was a reminder of the truth, that you were not - and could not be - his.

Father Carthy gets to his feet, a signal to Din that it was time to go. “In the meantime, I’m going to look more closely into the canon law around annulment. I’m not hopeful, but maybe she might be able to build a case for it. He did abandon her, after all. Anyway -” he opens the door, and Din exits “- it would free her, at least, from the threat of him.”

The blacksmith thanks Father Carthy as he saddles up to head back to the forge, his heart lighter than it had been in weeks. On the road home, Din smiles to himself as he thinks about seeing Gró again, holding his little boy in his arms, watching you give him an extra spoonful of jam at breakfast, tucking him in to sleep at night. He thinks about your eyes, your smile; the feeling and taste of your mouth; the scent of your skin. 

No matter what, he promises himself, no matter the rules or the law or whatever a piece of paper might say: he’ll kiss you again, hold you, take you to bed, and show you how much he missed you.

A couple of days later, as dusk settles, Din lights the lamp and finishes clearing away his lone dinner bowl and mug. Anticipation courses through him as he thinks about seeing two - no, three - places set for the evening meal again. Soon. Soon, they’ll be home.

He yawns and stretches, a hand reaching up to scratch his wavy, dark locks. It had been a hard day in the forge: a run of horses that needed to be shod, urgent repairs, and the difficulty of managing the work itself as well as the bellows and the fire, all by himself. An early night, he decides, might be in order.

He’s in his shirt and breeches when he hears the sound. A horse, its footfall cautious and uncertain, as though it had not been down the laneway before. A rider, barking commands and swearing at the animal. Din pulls his kerchief from his pocket and fastens it around his face before climbing swiftly up the attic ladder. His hand reaches into the thatch, on the other side of the house from Gró’s little bed, and retrieves a pike, smaller in design than the ones he’d hammered by the dozen in 1798 but no less lethal in the right hands. He grips the pike in his right hand, hidden from view while he opens the door with his left.

The rider struggles off his horse, evidently drunk. His scarlet tunic is unmistakable. The light from the cottage illuminates his features: pale, washed-out complexion; unhappy mouth set in a miserable line; hard blue eyes that offered nothing but coldness. 

“Where the fuck is she, then, the stupid fucking bitch?”

Din’s fist tightens around the pike, but he holds his ground, still peering around the door. “Who is it? Who are you?”

Searlas swaggers drunkenly towards the house. “I know you’re a tinker, but you don’t have to play thick with me. You know who I am.” He beats his chest, peacocking as he nears Din’s threshold. “I’m a soldier of the fucking crown, so I am. And I’m here for what’s mine.”

He pokes Din’s broad chest, seeming a little startled at how solid the blacksmith actually is. Searlas’s watery eyes meet Din’s stern gaze. 

“So… where the fuck is she?”

“Whoever you’re after,” Din says, maintaining the same tone he’s used throughout the encounter so far, “they’re not here. I live alone.”

Searlas pushes Din in frustration, and Din recoils a little at the stench of cheap poitín from the other, smaller man. “I know she’s fucking here. The whole fucking place knows.” He steps back and starts to roar upwards, as if addressing you in an attic hiding place. 

“Did you not think I’d find you? You’re that fucking stupid, you would think that. I’m here now, time to go home. You’re mine, remember?” He shakes his fist, swaying a little.

“She’s not here. And even if she was, why do you care so much now? You left her on her own for years, apart from all the other things you did to her.”

Searlas stares at Din, a look of disgust on his face. “So you do know her? She’s full of shit, so she is. Full of lies. Not to be trusted.”

He wheels around again, almost losing his balance completely this time. “You were seen, you lying cunt!”

Din’s fingers clench and release over and over around the pike. He swallows the urge to run this miserable fucker through.

The soldier looks at him through glassy, drunken eyes. “She’s mine, see. And I think I want to take what’s mine. Time she was taught a lesson.” He roars the last word, as if hoping you’ll hear him and emerge.

The blacksmith edges out slightly and stands firmer, broader, in his front door. Searlas stares at him accusingly. 

“D’you fuck her?”

Din holds his body and face completely still, focusing on the grip of the pike and his breathing.

“I said, did you fuck her? Did you fuck my wife?”

Din takes a deep breath. “Do you have the right to call her your wife, after what you did?”

Searlas’s jaw drops in astonishment. Din knew that he was just a bog-standard Irish Catholic soldier signed up for cannon fodder like all the others, but it was clear that the other man believed his uniform made him one of the “betters”, no matter what.

“What did you say to me?”

“I said, do you have the right to call her your wife?”

Searlas almost growls with drunken fury. “I have the right to call her whatever I fucking like.” Din notices his fist tightening by his side and steels himself as the other man approaches, menacingly. 

“I’ll call her what I fucking like,” Searlas repeats, “including calling her what she is. A slut. A liar. A frigid, barren, useless excuse for a woman. And now? She’s filthy, tinker’s whore. That’s all she is. A stupid, ugly, disgusting tinker’s whore.”

The speed with which Din moves takes the soldier by surprise, as does the bright flash of the pike’s blade as it reflects the moonlight. The blacksmith uses the long handle first, roaring as he beats Searlas away with some well-placed blows. He moves with agility and confidence as the soldier fumbles in his sleeves for a weapon, and produces a narrow switchblade dagger.

“I’ll fucking show you, tinker,” he roars, the poitín giving him an exaggerated confidence. “I’ll skin you alive, fucking another man’s wife.”

He lunges at Din, but a swift, measured flick of the pike’s bladed end knocks the dagger to the ground and tears a hole in the scarlet tunic. Now Din presses his advantage, driving Searlas back to his horse.

“Get out of here and leave her alone. Forever. Don’t you ever come near her again.”

A more sober man would have cut and run, and would do so wisely. But Searlas’s selfishness combined with his drunkenness made for a terrible cocktail of aggression and abuse.

“And what will you do, tinker? They should have hanged every last one of you rebel scum in ‘98. Pity that scalp wasn’t ripped from your skull with a pitchcap.” He pats his thighs, as if seeking another blade. “You couldn’t defend yourselves then, why do you think you could stand up to the king’s army now?” He cocks his head and looks at Din, eyes menacing. 

“Or are you just that desperate to defend a thick, useless slut like my wife?”

The grunting, the roars, and the sickening sound of a strong, sturdy fist meeting flesh and bone resonate in the stillness of the twilight. And then another sound, louder still: the unmistakable thud of a man’s body hitting the cold ground. 

[wackyharpy]

Eventually (Part 1)

Modern! Aemond x Fem! Reader

Summary: Aemond has been in love with Helaena's best friend but hasn't confessed yet. Everything changes when he meets her at Dragonstone.

Part 2

Part 3 (maybe, not sure)

A/N: English isn't my native language. I'd be very glad for your comments and reblogs. Thank you in advance! Enjoy the story :)

For the atmosphere: Agnes Obel — Familiär

Warnings ⚠️

NSFW 18+, m masturbation, mentioning of sex, swearing, in this story Helaena is the youngest, she/her pronouns.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Two years.

Aemond Targaryen has been madly in love for two years. And if it weren't his lifestyle and business, he would confess. His family is another reason why it is so complicated. Although, the main reason is his fucking father and his delusional idea of Aemond's marriage with that Baratheon girl, God only knows her name.

One more issue. Who is she? A girl from a plain family without wealth that the Baratheon, oh Lord how Aemond is fed up with hearing that name, has. That's all. She is just a student. She is just the best friend of Halaena. She just sometimes appears at their mansion for a movie night with his sister. She is just a girl who Aemond has been madly in love with for two years.

***

Ragged breathing. The sound of the turned on shower. He has only half an hour to get to work. But Aemond can't stop. Can't stop thinking about her. Hair, eyes, lips, neck, collarbone, breasts, literally everything. All of her. He wants to devour her. Aemond's hand goes back and forth on his firm shaft. All thoughts swirling in the mind are of her. He shuts his eye tight making movements of the hand faster and harder. He desires it to be not his fingers and palm but her warm mouth or wet pussy. He wants to hear the sounds of their shared juices but not of the shower. Breathes are heavy. It seems as something has stuck in his chest, it wishes to break free, to burst with loud groans.

"Fuck!" he exclaims.

Aemond starts moving his hips roughly thrusting into his hand seeking for the relief. Still it would feel better if it were her hot insides.

"Fuck! Ah!" he moans.

There. It's there. Soon. He is going to come. Finally. He fucking wants her. Desires more than everything.

"Aahh!"

Aemond's cock starts twisting releasing his semen on the floor of the shower. He breathes heavily feeling huge relief. Aemond leans his head back opening his mouth slightly and licks his lips. The last exhalation is deep and long. Somewhat his mind has cleared and cooled being ready for another working day. Though, Aemond knows it won't last long. Sooner or later his only thought is going to be her.

***

"I don't fucking care, Viserys! She's a bitch!" Daemon shouts squeezing a crystal tumbler in his hand.

Aemond is sitting in his father's office at their family's mansion, silently looking at the mahogany desk. He is waiting for the ending of another spectacle that has uncovered after several minutes when Daemon and he have entered the room. Rhea Royce has been a topic of conversations between two brothers recently as the rogue one possesses no wish to be married to her anymore.

Aemond exhales heavily and keeps on sipping his Knappogue Castle Irish Whiskey.

They have come to discuss new reports from the financial department but, as Aemond has noticed, currently Daemon's concern isn't connected with Targaryen's company. Instead of working, he argues with Viserys due to his wish to divorce that Royce bitch and to marry his new passion — Laena Velaryon.

All responsibilities and work at the financial department are on Aemond's shoulders. Again. It happened once several years ago when Daemon suddenly realised he got tired signing papers, sitting at meetings, deciding matters, so he just bought two tickets to Essos and went on a journey with his lover, nobody remembers her name now.

Only Aemond remembers. He remembers everything. He remembers the huge fight that happened within the family right after his uncle's airplane took off. He remembers how he had been working day and night reviewing all transactions, conducting all operations, leading all meetings, everything... When Daemon, the head of the department, was sipping a cocktail lying on the beach, sunbathing in pleasant rays while his lover was making a slobbery blow job. Aemond has always been a scapegoat, especially after that incident when he lost his eye. That was the moment when he realised that his father didn't care about him and his brothers, and sister.

"I said everything! I'll marry Laena and nobody will stop me!"

With these words, Daemon shuts the door leaving Viserys and Aemond alone.

The elder Targaryen exhales heavily:

"He's going to be the death of me," mutters Viserys and turns towards his son.

"How's work?"

Aemond mentally curses his father for this fake caring. In one gulp he drinks the remainings of 12-year-old whiskey and places the glass on the small table next to the armchair.

"Work is fine," dryly answers. He wishes promptly to discuss the matter and leave the office. Aemond can't stand his father at all.

"Then let's see what we have," Viserys sits in his working armchair wrapped in dusty brown leather and takes the folder with the reports.

***

"Aegon!" Aemond knocks at the door of his brother's bedroom. He hears moans and sweet gibberish that Aegon, perhaps, is telling a girl who is now below him. Or on top. Aemond doesn't care.

"Oh, yes! Yes!" exclaims the girl and releases a load groan that, as Aemond considers, the whole mansion has heard.

"Aegon!" Aemond knocks one more time feeling impatient, "we have to go! Open the door! Now!"

"You like it?" He hears his brother's chuckling and moaning — Aegon has always been loud in bed.

"Yeah!" The girl laughs; the bed continues squeaking.

Aemond exasperatedly runs the hand on his face and tsks. He turns on his heels and goes downstairs right to the rooms of the staff. There, he borrows a key that a maid uses to unlock Aegon's bedroom for cleaning.

The moment Aemond enters the room, he sees a red haired girl bouncing on his brother's hips. So... she's on top.

"Oh, hi, brother," Aegon smiles still keeping one hand on the lean leg of his guest and another one on her heavy breast.

"Meet Angelica," the elder goes on completely undeterred by the situation he is caught in.

"I don't care," Aemond dryly answers casting a quick glance at the girl that is grinning at him, "just get your things and come on. We're going to Dragonstone."

"What's it now?" Aegon rolls his eyes.

"We're to meet Corlys there and arrange something. I'm waiting in the car."

"Is the issue arised because our dear uncle wants to divorce that bitch?" Aegon laughs.

"No," Aemond answers coldly turning to the doorway, "five minutes, Aegon. Hurry up!"

At long last, the door of the car is opened, and Aegon gets into sitting next to Aemond. The picture is hilarious, mostly for the elder of two brothers: inside, the car smells of tobacco, citrus, and something woody — Aemond's perfume, which he adores. He is wearing a classy black suit of the English cut with a matching dark grey tie. And Aegon sprawls on the leather seat only in jeans and a T-shirt, luckily, a clean one.

"Always a good little boy?" He snickers examining his brother's outfit. Aemond ignores the insult and keeps on looking in the window. The gloomy expression is on his face.

"I heard Daemon doesn't appear at office, fucks Laena instead of that bitch, so... again all work is on you, little good boy?"

"Will you shut the fuck up?" Aemond hisses turning the head towards his brother.

"What?! Isn't that true?!"

"Maybe you'd better start doing your part of the work as well?"

"I don't give a shit," Aegon puts on a resentful face, "if our father doesn't give a shit about us, why should I care?"

"The matter isn't in..."

"The matter is exactly in this! Rheanyra is CEO, not me, not you. You're not even given a position of the head of the financial department. During all these years, as you've been working hard, not Daemon. But, as I said, they don't give a fuck."

Then, there is long silence between both of them. Aemond is looking in the window at changing landscapes: from King's Landing's houses with red roofs to the views of the calm sea as the car has been driven on the bridge that leads to Dragonstone.

"There's going to be Halaena and her," Aemond hears how his brother's mood changes abruptly. Only several seconds ago, he was upset because of the family issues, and now he's grinning looking at Aemond pointedly. He doesn't condemn Aegon for quick mood alterations, in some way, it's his method of hiding the resentment and living among crazy relatives. Still, at times, Aemond finds this Aegon's feature to be very annoying.

"Her?" Aemond raises one brow.

The Cheshire cat's grin becomes bigger on his brother's face.

"Oh, come on, don't pretend like you're an idiot! Her, Aemond. You know who I'm talking about."

"Halaena's best friend," Aemond responds feeling as if something is swirling uncomfortably in his stomach when mentioning her.

"Yes," a satisfied expression appears on Aegon's face, "Daeron texted me. Their summer holidays started at university and they decided to come to Dragonstone, like for a week, I guess. You know, to have parties, to sunbathe in bikinis, to swim."

Aemond gulps nervously. His pupils have dilated. He feels hot.

"If you could only see yourself!" Aegon bursts out laughing unable to control himself, "I know you wanna fuck her!"

"I don't!" Aemond cuts off immediately indignantly looking at his brother's face possessing a sole desire to smack him hard.

"Yes, you do! I notice how you look at her. Do you love her?"

One more time, the loud laughing can be heard in the car — Aegon isn't able to stop. Aemond just exhales heavily and turns his face away from his idiot brother towards the window.

He is exhausted. Because of everything. Aegon, Daemon, his father, all this abnormality the Targaryen family possesses, probably, for decades. He wishes to rest, at least, a little. Isolate himself from others and just sit in his room alone for several days like a mad man. However, there's no going back; his life is predestined, and he has been working in the family business for so long. Somehow, Aemond has got used to this lifestyle. Though, the only silver lining of his life remains to be Halaena's best friend. The girl who he has been madly in love with. The girl who he is going to meet again in an hour.

[otmaaromanovas]

Romanov myths part three - did the Grand Duchesses go shopping?

Over the years, a prevalent belief that the Romanov Grand Duchesses, Olga, Tatiana, Maria, and Anastasia did not go shopping continues to be repeated. Some historians have even suggested that the girls did not know how paying for items worked. However, primary sources from people who knew the girls, were members of their entourage, and the Grand Duchesses' own diaries, tell a different story...

"Saturday. 10 August. … We walked along the historic boulevard and the main streets, but crowds followed us everywhere, so we were able to go into only 2 shops for a minute..." "Friday. 15 November. Had lessons, after that went shopping for wool with Nastenka as usual.." From Grand Duchess Olga Nikolaevna’s 1913 diary [my underlining]

In this entry, Olga describes shopping Countess Anastasia 'Nastenka' Vassilievna Hendrikova, who was a young lady-in-waiting at court and a particular favourite of the Grand Duchesses, often accompanying them on trips. As described in the first entry, it appears that safety and security concerns due to crowds, rather than a lack of understanding about shops, contributed to the Grand Duchesses not being able to shop frequently. Nastenka is frequently mentioned by the Grand Duchesses in their diaries, and volunteered to join the Romanov family in their house arrest and imprisonment. She was murdered by the Bolsheviks in September 1918.

"After coffee, I went for a walk with my pupils… They really liked to go to the shops and buy everything. Anastasia Nikolaevna was especially attracted to stores, where they sold doll shoes of various sizes… Tatiana Nikolaevna did not always accompany since the doctors found her heart was weak and she went with the Empress to take baths." A Few Years Before the Catastrophe by Sofia Ivanovna Tyutcheva.

Sofia Ivanovna Tyutcheva was a maid-of-honour to Tsarina Alexandra Feodorovna, and in 1907 was appointed as governess to the Grand Duchesses. The Grand Duchesses referred to her as "Savanna". She was dismissed in 1912 when she voiced concerns over Grigori Efimovich Rasputin. She wrote a short memoir in 1945, and passed away in 1957.

"[The] Grand Duchesses went shopping in the morning with one of the ladies-in-waiting to the Empress. They delighted in that because they could mix with the crowd and buy things just as everyone else did, and they were so pleased if they were not recognised at once." -- Upheaval - Olga Voronova

Countess Olga Konstantinovna Voronova was part of the aristocratic Kleinmichel family and in 1914, married one of the Romanov's favourite officers, Pavel Alexeievich Voronov. Through these connections, Olga Konstantinovna became a friend of the Grand Duchesses, exchanging frequent letters with Olga and Tatiana in particular, before and after the Revolution. She published her memoirs in 1932. Once again, it is inferred that being recognised and subsequent security concerns stifled the Grand Duchesses' shopping sprees.

Where did the myth come from?

It appears that the myth came about due to this extract from Margaretta Eagar, an Irish nanny who cared for the children from 1898 to 1904:

Her only knowledge of shops and shopping was derived from the toy and sweet shops in Darmstadt. One day she asked me why the Americans spoke English, not American. I told her the story of the Pilgrim Fathers, and described how they built houses and shops, and so made towns. She was exceedingly interested and inquired, ' Where did they find the toys to sell in the shops ? " Six Years at the Russian Court, by Margaretta Eagar

It appears that some historians forgot that Margaretta Eagar moved on from her nanny position in 1904, when the eldest Grand Duchess was nine and the youngest was three, and perhaps did not look for sources from when the Grand Duchesses had grown up and had slightly more independence.

Over time, the myth appears to have been exaggerated and repeated until it became part of the 'folklore' surrounding the Romanov Grand Duchesses.

Whilst it is clear that the Grand Duchesses did enjoy going shopping in their lifetimes, safety and security concerns meant they could not enjoy shopping as frequently as other teenagers may have. In the same way royals today would not be able to go to shops without being recognised, there was a chance that a crowd could gather. Similarly, Olga and Tatiana appear to have shopped more than the younger pair, Maria and Anastasia, likely due to being older in age and therefore having more independence.

Photos:

First set, left: Olga, Anastasia (hidden behind Olga), and Maria Shopping in Germany, 1910. Right: Olga and Tatiana out shopping in the Isle of Wight, 1909, accompanied by Dr. Evgeny Botkin (in the suit)

Second set, left: Tatiana and Maria shopping with Sofia Ivanovna Tyutcheva, circa 1910. Right: The Grand Duchesses and their entourage by shops, most likely taken in Germany, 1910

Sources:

Journal of a Russian Grand Duchess: Complete Annotated 1913 Diary of Olga Romanov, Eldest Daughter of the Last Tsar, translator Helen Azar, (Independently published: 2015)

A Few Years Before the Catastrophe: The Memoirs of Sofia Ivanovna Tyutcheva, translator George Hawkins, (Independently published: 2020)

Upheaval, Olga Voronova (Woronoff), (New York; London: G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1932) -- Free to read online here

Six Years at the Russian Court, Margaretta Eagar, (New York: Charles L. Bowman and Company, 1906) -- Free to read online here

[mrs-gauche]

So, on the new teaser published on DA Day this year, while I won't even try to go as in-depth as the amazing @felassan already did, compiling everything of note in this excellent post, like the sleep deprived German with limited vocabulary that I am, I'm just gonna add my little two cents to it, hopefully not repeating too much of what has already been mentioned. 😁

So why not start with the caption here!

This honestly made me snort out loud. 😂 I mean, it's like BioWare is not even trying anymore to be subtle about the fact that Thedas has we know it is 100% doomed. lol And yes, I know we all joke about Thedas constantly being in Apocalypse mode, but this time it really feels like some massive change is approaching.

But to be specific, I am pretty confident in that this is referring to both the destruction of the Veil, as well as the freed Evanuris dooming the world through some kind of mega Blight.

When I first read the word "revelation", it immediately made me think of Solas' Tower tarot card. The Tower literally represents sudden, disruptive revelation and potentially destructive change. While "damnation" is the concept of a divine punishment, to be "doomed to suffer in hell forever".

And as felassan theorized, if the last person in the teaser speaking is Elgar'nan, and if he is in fact connected to the Old God Lusacan, who is the God of Night, bringing about the "eternal night" and darkness…

“Lusacan, the Dragon of Night, calls to you. He lives where it is darkest and waits for the day he will rise. Drink of his blood and know the power in darkness: either fear the Night or wield it." "The darkspawn yearn to awaken and corrupt Lusacan to start a new age of darkness." “A night that will never end”

...Whereas the "revelation"/Solas tearing down the Veil, to me at least, always seemed to be associated with light or "purification" (for lack of a better word), with how it was described in Sandal’s prophecy and the way the destruction of the Veil was portrayed in the 2022 cinematic, almost blindlingly bright. (Also, "Solas" literally means "light" in Irish. lol)

„One day the magic will come back. All of it. Everyone will be just as they were. The shadows will part. And the skies will open wide. When he rises, everyone will see.“

So I think, like this "revelation" contrasts the "damnation", like Light and Darkness, at least in terms of visual language, there could be a hint of a figurative, as well as a literal "clashing" of two opposing forces? Like, both are destructive, but like The Tower represents destruction in order to rebuild/to enforce new growth/for the soul to evolve, while the damnation is nothing but irreparable corruption?

Anyway! So generally speaking, the teaser highlights yet again three of the factions/places we've seen in all the 2020 teaser/concept art/books/comics. It looked absolutely gorgeous and the voice over gave me goosebumps, as well as the amazing score again (that may or may not be composed by Hans Zimmer and/or Lorne Balfe lol I wonder) and the sound design! <3333 Though what’s curious to me, is that neither the Shadow Dragons of Tevinter or the Veil Jumpers from the Arlathan Forest were mentioned this time around…

So, I think this time the teaser might be more about the main plot beats/quests in the game than about the protagonist's potential origins, like how in DAO and DAI, you travelled to various places gathering allies and completed their respective narratives first before facing the main threat. Each of the places shown is coupled with a voice over from what is most likely gonna be an important character in each of these plot beats.

The fact that they changed the word "hero" in the plot blurb on the official DA website to "leader" is also.. interesting. It kinda reminds me of when Mark Darrah mentioned that the "vision statement" for Joplin was gonna be "We would be heroes, but the records are sealed". 👀 Or maybe the new protagonist might not be so heroic after all and more on the morally grey spectrum, which is always nice to explore. lol Makes me also yet again wonder about the "They call me the Dread Wolf. What will they call you when this is over?" line, meaning that, no matter how heroic our actions might be, in the end history might still remember us as the villain.

Antiva

This looks phenomenal and if they actually manage to realize a city as big as what this suggests AND fill it with meaningful content and people (side-eyeing you, Val Royeaux lol), it will blow my mind! lol Like felassan said, I'm very curious if we're gonna do some Assassin's Creed style "parkour" here, like what was kinda described in the short story "As We Fly" from last year! The Crows as the only real military defense of Antiva, particularly in Treviso, seem to be in deep trouble now, having been invaded by the Antaam and if you look closely, you can actually see the banner of the Qunari being displayed in the city!

"We fight for everyone. And we always will. The Crows rule Antiva."

My first thought hearing the voice here was actually Caterina Dellamorte. The lines express authority or leadership and it's also a more elderly sounding voice (to me at least), so Caterina as the First Talon would make a lot of sense to me! There have also been lots of speculation about her grandson, Lucanis, being a potential companion as well.

Rivain

(Oh no, all of Rivain got eaten by a squid. lol)

I've been hoping to go there ever since I first saw concept art of Rivain, and this is still giving me huge Pirates of the Caribbean (but with magic) vibes. 😂 As someone who thoroughly enjoyed playing AC Black Flag like ten years ago, this looks VERY promising! Though please, if we're getting any kind of underwater combat (like with the Vinsomer mentioned in the codex entry from last year), just don't make me fight dragons underwater, I'm still traumatized by the Lagiacrus in Monster Hunter Tri. 💀

"Glory to the risen gods. They come to deliver this world."

As to who is saying this, honestly, no idea. 😂 The blurb on the website mentions dragons in this place acting up for some reason, and the line sounds very cultist. lol But I'm definitely with felassan here, too, that this has to be connected to the Evanuris as well, given this GIANT squid thing on the map and all of the horrifying ocean related stuff linked to Ghilan'nain and her monstrosities, my money is also on her being one of these "risen gods".

And honestly… If I was a simple sailor or pirate and then one day I would see this emerge from the ocean…

….I'd probably start believing in these "gods", too. lmao

Anderfels

Next up, we're going to the Anderfels and Weisshaupt and I don't really have anything to add to what has already been said, other than "Shit is definitely Going Down Here". lol Lorewise, it would be crazy to go there and learn more about the very beginnings of the Wardens at their headquarters, so.. given the lines, the ominous sound of battle in the background here and some *things* from those reddit leaks earlier this year (felassan made a great post about this too, but spoiler warning of course!).. I just hope there will be enough left of Weisshaupt to explore after all this. lol

"Grey Wardens don't hide in our castle. I won't ask good soldiers to turn tail and run."

My first guess was the First Warden as well, but felassan actually made a few very good points here that make me question it… 🤔

I was also wondering what these "pillar ring" things are and while I first thought some kind of magical defense mechanism, I saw a reddit user suggesting that these rings could be part of a griffon training flight path?? Hell YEAH. #BringBackGriffonsInDA4

"Tremors have been creating disturbances of late. Their cause is unknown. Upon the distant horizon, a storm of ominous intent brews and darkens the skies."

That is a very interesting description, given that the sky in *this* concept art (which is definitely also showing Weisshaupt), is quite clearly the opposite of "dark". lol

(*looking suspiciously at the things I mentioned at the beginning here about "Light and Darkness" clashing* 👀👀👀 Maybe Solas came to visit here, too, because he just loves the Wardens, right? lol)

You know, if I read the words "tremors" and "Grey Wardens", my natural conclusion is "Something something Old Gods Underground + Grey Wardens Trying to Kill Them Before They Awake = Nothing Good" (and let's not forget about the eleven(!!) mountains/Ghilan'nain's ancient pools underground mentioned in Tevinter Nights as well), keeping in mind that Solas gets furious about the Wardens deliberately searching them out and slaying them (because he obviously knows what's gonna happen if all of them are slayed(!)), and in DAI there was already something ominous going on at Weisshaupt...

And all of this coupled with the new vinyl artwork and all the promotional stuff for DA4 so far, makes me feel like the Wardens will be busier than ever before...

Seven semi-circles with two of them still "lit" and the "tambourine"/Veil looking more broken with each new update....

Seven Old Gods/Evanuris that were banished when Solas created the Veil.....

Seven mirrors shattering....

Seven gates of the Black City, which Kordillus Drakon prophesied will someday shatter and cover both the mortal and spirit realms in darkness....

And speaking of "DARKNESS COVERING BOTH REALMS".....

Tevinter

One word: TENDRILS. lmao

So the last shot shows a big part of Tevinter on the map, most of it covered in purple clouds and tendrils...

Followed by a voice that had me like

"All the world will soon share the peace and comfort of my reign."

First off, that voice actor sounds SO familiar, omg, who IS that?? Someone suggested Joseph Capp, the voice of the Shadow Prince from Divinity 2 and that fits perfectly (DOS2 has quite a few VAs from DA actually and funnily enough, the Shadow Prince is part of Sebille's main quest, who's voiced by Alix Wilton Regan lol) Whoever it is, they're doing a great job at sending a shiver down my spine. lol Like, you can just TELL, he's the Real Deal. "Peace and Comfort" never sounded more menacing. 👀

Alright, so I'll make this short, and say that I'm also very very confident that this is Elgar'nan speaking.

People have suggested the Archon, the Black Divine, some Venatori or Qunari leader, but honestly guys, none of these make much sense to me when looking at the bigger picture here (aside from the visual hints I've talked about earlier). Like, this teaser is obviously trying to set this person up as a serious threat to *the whole world*, and the only way I can see this work would be if this person held just as much or more power than Solas, because if they don't, they would just end up being a secondary concern, like another Corypheus…

You just don't market a game by suddenly introducing a new smaller threat to *"AAALL THE WORLD"* less powerful than the one we already have, you know. 😂 And imo, the only one "outmatching" Solas in terms of power, at this point, would be Elgar'nan or any of the elven gods. Or literally the Blight itself/the Titans.

And then there's this

"Hundreds of years in the making."

We know who has been directing the course of history for ages behind the curtains… I mean, the entire series has been building towards Mythal getting her vengeance.. and what better way to finally get to that point than to bring her husband into the narrative, the one who was potentially the main instigator of the Evanuris's betrayal and Mythal's murder. 👀

(There's one thing I need to say though, and I know this is the silliest of nitpicks, but.. if that guy really does turn out to be Elgar'nan, am I the only one who thinks it's really funny how he's just… talking British English/the common tongue like that? 😂 I mean, I 100% get why they cannot make the actors talk in ancient elven with subtitles for the whole game (something I personally really appreciated when they did it for some of the ancient elves and spirits in DAI), like Corypheus wasn't talking in the old tongue either, and I feel like there are multiple reasons for why this just wouldn't work. And if we're looking for a lore reason, I guess even the imprisoned Evanuris had somehow enough access to people's dreams over the course of thousand years to learn the languages of present Thedas as much as Solas or any other ancient elf like Abelas or Felassan did, but it's still funny to me nonetheless. lol)

Anyway, the teaser ends with a dragon's growling sound and then another wolf howling in the back, which I interpreted as Solas giving Elgar'nan a fair warning here that he's indeed still the title-giving DAD character. lol If we get to see these guys battling it out for real, like Giant Demon Wolf vs Black City Sized Blighted Dragon, it's already the best game in my book. lol

You just know someone at BioWare is having a blast at coming up with as many references to Solas' Trespasser dialogue to put in these blog posts as possible. 😂 I just hope they can keep this promise, cuz I have a LOT of questions (and I need Solas to answer ALL of them lol).

Hmmm... You "hope so", yes? Well, after *this* teaser I sure *hope* that the sentiment of "the enemy of my enemy is my friend" still holds true in this particular situation, because I'd rather still be on Team Solas if I have to choose between "revelation" and "damnation". 👀

I guess we'll see next summer... 😁

[finnlongman]

About Me, My Books, and My Research (2024 Edition)

Hi, I'm Finn, a writer, medievalist, and all-round nerd. You may know me as the author of The Butterfly Assassin, "that person who wrote the trans Cú Chulainn article", the weird nerd in the Tumblr corner writing excessively long and incomprehensibly niche posts about their research, or something else entirely. I am all of those things! (Well, depending on what the 'something else' is, anyway...)

Currently, I'm a PhD student at the University of Cambridge researching friendship in the late Ulster Cycle (c. 12th-17th centuries). I have an MA in Early and Medieval Irish from University College Cork, and wrote my thesis about Láeg mac Ríangabra, my best beloved. I also have an undergrad degree in Anglo-Saxon, Norse and Celtic from Cambridge, and wrote my dissertation about queer readings of Táin Bó Cúailnge, including transmasculine readings of Cú Chulainn.

You can find out more about my research on my website, which also includes info about all of my academic publications. This includes the aforementioned "trans Cú Chulainn article", an article about Láeg in the Death of Cú Chulainn, an article about the seven Maines, and a discussion of a conference on Caoineadh Airt Uí Laoghaire from the perspective of my own work on lament and grief. Whenever possible, I try to make my research available Open Access. If you're ever having trouble finding one of my articles, please contact me!

If you want recommendations for books about medieval Irish (or Welsh) literature, this list on my Bookshop page has all my go-to recommendations. If you buy via this link, I earn a small commission at no extra cost to you, so this is a great way to support me.

I am also an author, and I write both YA and adult novels. Again, my website is the place to go for all the info and links, but a quick summary:

The Butterfly Assassin trilogy (The Butterfly Assassin, 2022; The Hummingbird Killer, 2023; Moth to a Flame, 2024): YA thrillers about a traumatised teenage assassin who is trying (and failing) to live a normal life in a fictional closed city in Yorkshire. Featuring friendship, street art, Esperanto, zero romance, and a whole lot of murder, as well as increasingly unsubtle commentary on the UK arms industry and the military recruitment of vulnerable teenagers.

The Wolf and His King (coming Spring 2025 from Gollancz): a queer retelling of 'Bisclavret' by Marie de France which uses werewolfism as a metaphor to explore chronic pain and illness. Also very much about yearning, exile, and the mortifying ordeal of being known.

The Animals We Became (coming 2026 from Gollancz): a queertrans retelling of the Fourth Branch of the Mabinogi looking at gender, compulsory heterosexuality, and trauma, through the medium of nonconsensual animal transformations.

To Run With The Hound (coming 2027 from Gollancz): my take on the Ulster Cycle, looking at why Táin Bó Cúailnge is a tragedy and what it means to be doomed by the narrative, but not in the way you thought you were. Featuring a lot of feelings about Cú Chulainn, Fer Diad, and Láeg.

You can find out more about my recently-announced medieval retellings in this blog post.

I generally tag personal posts and selfies as “#about the author”; other than that, I think I’m pretty straightforward with my tagging system.

I’m very happy to answer questions about medieval Irish lit, my research, or my books, or just generally to chat. Send questions via asks, chat via DMs, and if you're looking for my articles, you can email me at finn [at] finnlongman [dot] com, which is also the best way to contact me for professional enquiries, whether academic or fiction related.

You can also find me on Bluesky, on Instagram, and on YouTube, where I (infrequently) retell medieval Irish stories for a general audience with lots of sarcasm and hand gestures. Technically I'm still on Twitter, but I'm trying to leave.

And finally, if you’ve found my research interesting or just generally want to support me, I have a tip jar and am always immensely grateful when somebody helps me to fund my book-buying habits: http://ko-fi.com/fianaigecht. You can also tip me directly on Tumblr if you like. I’m also a Bookshop affiliate, and you can buy books from my recommendation lists to support me and get some great reads at the same time.

[an-spideog]

haigh a chara tá siúl agam go bhfuil tú ceart go leor! i was wondering do you know any resources for learning Gaelainn? despite being from munster, in school we just learnt standard irish, but id really love to learn more munster irish. is breá liom do bhlag btw tá sé an-cabhrach <3

Míle baochas :) I do indeed know several resources, I made use of a lot of them lol, there's kind of two categories - Stuff about the dialect and stuff in the dialect. I'll start with 'about'.

Info about West Munster Irish

There's only 1 modern textbook I know of which teaches munster Irish, and it's kind of a rough read lol. This is Teach Yourself Irish (1961) (audio). The book is really really dense, one paragraph will contain a lot of information, and that can make it pretty easy to miss things, but it's still a very useful book - and much easier to use if you already have some Irish. It teaches Cork Irish but Cork and Kerry are quite similar (Kerry has a stronger Gaeltacht though so you're more likely to hear Kerry Irish). This book also has a weird transcription system for how to pronounce words, ignore it, learn the sounds of the language separately, and listen to the recordings that come with the book. Their system is buckwild and nobody else uses it.

You should also skip the sections labeled "rules for aspiration" and "rules for eclipsis", rather than reading them right at the start and use them as a reference if you ever need to.

An Teanga Bheo - Corca Dhuibhne is a great book to get some knowledge on Kerry Irish as long as you can read Irish pretty well, since it describes lots of the important features. But it's a reference text and an overview, not a textbook. If you don't feel that comfortable reading in Irish or want to be able to search, you can use this online translation

Shameless plug, I talk about Munster Irish on my youtube channel, and I try and share info which people wouldn't find easily otherwise, new video maybe out this weekend maybe. An Loingseach on youtube - He sometimes gets bogged down in the linguistic weeds and doesn't edit his videos at all lol, but he knows his stuff.

There's a blog called corkirish.com and it has some useful info on it but the guy who used to run it is an awful shitter, I'm hoping that with more other people sharing resources we can make that blog irrelevant.

If you're at all interested in linguistics, there's more technical books describing the dialect which can be useful as references.

The Irish of West Muskerry - This is a book talking about the pronunciation of Cork Irish, in English, but using a lot of phonetic terms and symbols. Quite useful if you know how to read them.

Gaeilge Chorca Dhuibhne - This is a book talking about the pronunciation and structure of Kerry Irish, in Irish, again using a lot of linguistic terminology. This one will be getting an updated English version at some point soon, hopefully.

The Linguistic Atlas and Survey of Irish Dialects (LASID) is a series of books showing the results of surveys where they went around to different Irish speaking regions and asked them what words they'd use for specific things, it gives you really cool maps like this: (Showing you how "Gaeilic" is used in donegal, "Gaeilge" is used in Galway, and "Gaelainn" is used in Kerry)

This map is actually from a web version of the first book which is quite handy. The second book isn't available as a site but there are pdfs and it only focuses on munster so you can see some differences with in munster.

Stuff in the Dialect

Things to Read

We're probably the luckiest in terms of things to read when studying the Munster Dialect because there have been so many authors, and so many authors who write very dialectally. So a lot of munster features you see very prominently in writing.

Books by Maidhc Dainín Ó Sé (a lot of fiction as well as one autobiography)

Books by Peig Sayers (There's school editions of at least her main book (Peig), try to avoid those and find the dialectal version in a library (Peig - a scéal féin), and she has written other books)

Books by Pádraig Ó Cíobháin (I haven't read any of these yet personally and I've heard they can be quite hard by nature of being very poetic and sometimes abstract)

Fiche Blian ag Fás by Muiris Ó Súilleabháin (similar to Peig, this is autobiographical)

Books by Tomás Ó Criomhthain (similar to Peig and MÓS these are autobiographical)

Books by Peadar Ua Laoghaire (Fiction, these are quite old - 100 years - and that can make them more difficult, but they can be pretty good)

Béaloideas and Dúchas.ie - these ones are harder to read than the others for various reasons but can often be a lot more interesting. Béaloideas is a journal of Irish folklore which you can find on JSTOR for free, and dúchas.ie has typed and handwritten stories collected in ireland, overlapping with Béaloideas to some extent. They can be harder to understand since sometimes the writing is intentionally over-dialectal to preserve the traits, but it's often more interesting since you can find fun little stories about different things. Stories from these collections are also sometimes put into smaller books or collections. (Béaloideas ó Chléire, an Seanchaidhe Muimhneach) you can usually find those books on Archive.org

Things to Listen To

Beo ar Éigean - Chatty podcast, one of the hosts has kerry Irish

Saol Ó Dheas - Munster Gaeltacht news show, not the most interesting if you don't live in the munster gaeltacht but there's a lot of it and the host has really good Irish, so you can focus on that even if the stories aren't gripping lol

Cartlann Bhóthar na Léinsí - Munster Archive show, they pull out older recordings of even more traditional speakers, and the host has very good Irish too, the older recordings are quite challenging to understand, but can be good.

Things to Watch

Seal le Dáithí - Talk show on TG4, host has Kerry Irish

Ros na Rún - Some of the characters have Munster Irish, it's a minority though

What did I do?

This isn't necessarily a guide, it's just what I did specifically.

After learning standardy Irish at school, I started talking to people on discord (Craic le Gaeilge and Celtic Languages), this was really helpful because I got to talk to a lot of knowledgeable people and get conversation practice even without being near to Irish speaking areas or events.

I also started listening to Beo Ar Éigean to practice my listening. I stuck to standard for a little while here and got to grips with basic grammar stuff because I was focusing on exams and stuff, but eventually I was taken with Munster Irish because some of the people I talked to a lot used it and because I liked synthetic forms. So I started working through Teach Yourself Irish with the help of people on discord, and that gave me a good basis in munster specific grammar and forms. From there I asked lots of questions (v important) and read the Irish of West Muskerry because I'm a nerd, wouldn't really recommend this if you're not that interested but it is kind of fun if you are. That helped me get a better understanding of Irish pronunciation (and spelling as a result of that). (I also read Peig at some point here) After that I started listening to a lot of Irish, trying to do at least 2 hours a day over one summer. An Saol Ó Dheas every day on my commute to work, and other stuff too, just trying to get as much exposure as I could. I use the host, Helen Ní Shé as my "language parent" - that is, I try to model my speech after hers. And currently I'm still focusing on just getting more and more exposure, and I've been reading more books in Irish.

[epicspheal]

Where's My Sister's Purrloin!? A Hugh Analysis

"Yeah… OK! Let's go get your Pokémon! There's something I have to do! And to do that, I need someone I can trust besides my partner Pokémon. A person I can trust! That's right! I'm talking about you! You seem like you've got good instincts!" <- Meeting Hugh outside of Aspertia City

Oh Hugh! Definitely one of the most misunderstood rivals. Also one of my favorites (also that seems to be a trend with the characters I like but that's a topic for another day). Hugh is our sole rival in BW2 and he's a rival with one of the most unique motivations for a rival character in the franchise.

Let's start by looking at Hugh's name which is rather straightforward. In all of the translations it's a homophone for the word Hue which is a major property of colors in color theory. He follows the naming conventions of Cheren and Bianca in that there all color themed which harks back to gens 1 and 2 where the main characters have color names (which makes sense as gen 5 was a bit of a soft reboot to the franchise in some respects). Of note his German, Spanish and French names of refer to the famous painter Henri Matisse who was known for his Fauvism style which opted for strong colors, again reinforcing the color symbolism. Interesting to note that Hugh as a given name that has mix of Irish and Germanic origin meaning "mind, intellect and spirit" with it actually being an anglicized version of Gaelic "Aodh" which means "fire". Hugh is certainly very intellectual, spirited and fiery especially when it comes to getting his revenge on Team Plasma and getting his sister's Purrloin back.

Next to look at his team. Like many rivals, he gets a traditional starter, but it's one that he raised from an egg. One that's actually stronger than your starter on the type chart. But honestly I think his signature Pokemon (based on what we see in Pokemas) is his Bouffalant. Bouffalant is described in a few Pokedex entries as be wild and reckless charging at everything. Which is quite reminiscent of Hugh during much of the game when it comes to Team Plasma. Indeed when you take a look at the rest of his team members you'll see that often times Hugh opts for high-risk, high reward moves such as Wild Charge on his Eelektross and Bouffalant (which gives recoil), Giga Impact on his Unfezant (forces the user to not use any move after atacking, leaving it vulnerable), Fire Blast/Hydro Pump/Leaf Storm on his starter (high powered but not 100% accuracy).

Which when you look at his character overall, makes a lot of sense. He's very passionate but the passion veers into recklessness in many respects.

Hugh gets a lot of flak from the community for going on and on about his sister's Purrloin. But people do that forget this is his driving motivation. And also most Pokemon characters tend to repeat themselves (which is less a symptom of them being bad characters, but of the writers not knowing how to vary dialogue that gets the point across without being repetitive).

But yes Hugh's very unlike most rivals in that he really isn't concerned about the rivalry. It's not that Hugh is a jerk. He's very kind to the player and generally respectful of others outside of Team Plasma (to whom he does not show a lot of mercy to in the beginning). It's just his primary goal isn't besting the protagonist. Rosa/Nate just so happen to be friends that he challenges to see if they can keep up with him while he takes down Team Plasma. In many ways he expands on the role carved out by Silver, who also was more concerned strength for the sake of defying his father than dealing with the protagonist but just didn't mind antagonizing them when they crossed paths. And Gladion and Marnie also fall in this trend as being more concerned about a goal that's not just "I wanna be the very best, like no one ever was".

"You're a little worried? Are you KIDDING me?! Your Pokémon might be lost forever! Whatever! I'll look! ! Help out!" <- On Flocessy Ranch

This a line that sticks out to me as it occurs when the owners of the Floccessy Ranch lost their Herdier and Hugh is extremely upset…more upset than Herdier's actual owners. At this point in the story he hasn't revealed the whole bit about his sister's Purrloin but this line is good foreshadowing to the eventual reveal. He's seen the trauma first hand of a stolen Pokemon can do and it causes an immediate reaction

"Shut it! You guys are the worst! You talk about saving Pokémon, but you're just Pokémon thieves! Don't think I'll ever forgive you!" <- Meeting Team Plasma in Virbank

Now I know Pokemon isn't known for writing but I honestly feel like they were doing a good job in slowly revealing more about Hugh and his motivations as we continued to encounter him during the journey. Once again we're adding more to Hugh, that not only has he probably seen a Pokemon get stolen, but that Pokemon was stolen by Team Plasma. But more importantly you can see a major flaw of his. That he is struggling with forgiveness as we see that he constantly references not forgiving Team Plasma throughout the game

"Five years ago… Team Plasma stole my little sister's Purrloin. It had been given to her as a present. I was only a little kid… I couldn't do anything… So… So that's why I have to get stronger!" <- Nimbasa City

And here's the big reveal. Now what sticks out to me is how powerless he felt. Of course this is a common trope with young characters who have been in serious situations to feel powerless and become hellbent on getting stronger to the point it kind of blinds them in a way (cough Paulo cough). But it's nice to see this in Pokemon with Hugh. It fits into the underlying theme of BW2 that deals with progression and how the region of Unova as a whole progresses from the events two years prior.

Given that Hugh states that Purrloin was taken 5 years ago that means that Team Plasma had been starting their public operations 3 years prior to the events of the original Black and White Games (we know of course N had been groomed by Ghetsis to be king as a young child but this gives us confirmation of them starting more public operations earlier in the timeline). Hugh, his sister, and countless others in Unova had been suffering the loss of their Pokemon for half a decade and that's heartbreaking.

Hugh: "Wait! I just remembered. Clay… Why? What's the reason? Why have you forgiven Team Plasma?" Clay: "There's always room for folks to grow and change, ain't there? And, if ya only go after what ya think is right, ya might end up rejectin' all thoughts and opinions other than yer own. That's mighty dangerous." Hugh: "Hmph… Is that one of those compromises adults are supposed to make? Whatever! I'm gonna fight Team Plasma! Oh yeah, what were you wanting to show us?" <- Clay and Hugh after the player wins the Quake Badge from Clay

This exchange is really important as while Hugh at the moment isn't truly ready for forgiveness from Team Plasma…it's shows he's not so closeminded to the idea as if he were, he wouldn't have even asked Clay why he had forgiven them. He's still resistant to the idea of forgiving Team Plasma as we see in later moments he's vary wary of working with ex-Team Plasma members to fight off Neo Team Plasma, but all hope is not lost. This is an important first step in his overall growth.

"That's the ONLY Purrloin in the world that my late grandpa caught for my little sister!" <- On the Plasma Frigate for the second time

This is a huge line for me. I've seen one too many people joke over the years "It's just a Purrloin, LUL. Why can't he just go get another one for his sister" and it lowkey irks me. Like his late grandfather went out of his way to catch that Purrloin for his sister. That's special. And even if their grandpa was still alive, or if someone else had of caught it, it doesn't change the fact that Hugh's sister bonded with that Purrloin. That's not a bond you can simply replace. Who knows if another Purrloin and his sister would've bonded the same way. It shows a great deal of maturity on Hugh's part to understand what that Purrloin meant to his sister compared to those (both in-universe and out) who say it's just as easy as replacing the Pokemon with another one.

"Wh-what? Don't mess with me… That's someone else's Pokémon!" "Sorry… This situation is messing with my head… I just don't know what to do… I finally found my sister's Pokémon, but now it's glaring at me… Why?!" "… … Hey… … If we let Team Plasma do whatever we want… There'll be more sad Pokémon like Purrloin and Kyurem…" <- On the Plasma Frigate for the third time upon finding his sister's Purrloin

This is such a poignant moment in BW2 for me because Hugh finally finds his sister's Pokemon…only for it to glare at him because it's now used to being under the Shadow Triad's control. You can feel his hurt through his words because this was his goal. This moment. And now he's not even sure he can bring this Purrloin back to his sister. Give Hugh a hug because he deserves it.

"Thanks to you, I accomplished what I set out to do during my journey! I wish I could've shown you my little sister's huge smile! This is my thanks!" <- Victory Road

We get a chance to meet Hugh in Victory Road and we get to hear some good news. His sister and Purrloin have been reunited! It's really touching to see such a good ending for him and his family. Hugh's dialogue is also much more relaxed in Victory Road now that his mission is over. It's good to see him more at ease after him being so wound up the majority of the playthrough

"What? I heard that Team Plasma left many Pokémon behind when they fled. And I'm helping find their real Trainers… That aside… Since you're here, you should have a battle with me before you go!" <- In Driftveil for postgame rematches

And even better? Hugh's begun to forgive Team Plasma (well at least the part that was genuinely following N). This is a huge step forward for someone who was pushing Team Plasma grunts out the way earlier and being hellbent on vengeance. Hugh honestly has one of the most satisfying conclusions for a rival in my opinion. He gets his goal, he learns a valuable lesson in accepting that (some) people can change, and he doesn't have to feel inferior to the player who is constantly beating him.

But Hugh's not done there! When he arrives in Pokemas we get to see him featured in two prominent stories. The first one is Revel In Rivalry where he gets into beef with Bede. It shows that while he has grown he still is a bit quick tempered seeing how easily provoked by Bede he was. But he learns to calm down and come to a truce much faster than he did with Team Plasma (granted there were more dire circumstances there) showing how he had grown from his journey.

Then of course there's the Unova Villain arc where this time it's Hugh that has his partner Bouffalant stolen. And to make matters worse he's been captured alongside N. What I loved about the Unova Villain arc is the focus on Hugh's growth. Yes, he's still very hotheaded. But he's learned to trust and forgive seeing as how he figured out N's identity well before Ghetsis told him in an attempt to break the partnership the two had formed while in captivity. Pre-character development Hugh would've flipped his shit on N. But hearing him talk about the people who spoke so highly of N (referencing the fact that Hugh works with the good part of Team Plasma to get the stolen Pokemon back to their trainers) and him saying he trusts N shows how much he's grown. It's really heartwarming to see him and N team up against Ghetsis' sorry ass.

So yeah, Hugh's a great character that I feel like needs more love in the fandom.