#perhaps a Blessed Lore of The Boy? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

n0phis · 1 year

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alright boys. big post incoming.

DISCLAIMER: it is 3am upon writing this all down and i am also not a writer

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i’m gonna start with the more lore-based stuff and add the little physical details as they come! so let’s fuckin explain this, shall we

in the world of this design/my personal hc techno isn’t so much the blood god as he is his champion and/or successor of some sort! partially through birth but in a fated sort of way, where he was just inevitably going to achieve the things required of the champion within his lifetime and thus was blessed from a relatively young age without need for some monumental trial. the blood god’s mantle was granted– the cape he wears– and is of a beast that was essentially the manifested will of the blood god. now i do want to say that i’m unsure whether a lot of techno’s physical features also came from the blessing or if he was born with them; i’m leaning towards born with them to an extent, and imagine him as a similar/same species to that of schlatt and tubbo in my hc! nondescript, varying ungulate features with techno only being half blooded (and lacking the strange sclera & tusks initially, as those do fit with the blessing).

before i get into what the mantle does i’ll talk about the beast itself, because i absolutely fucking love it it’s my squinkly little mythic pig

tales of the boar describe it as a hulking, monstrous creature that could dwarf any hoglin and was covered head to toe in blood-red, serrated quills; suffice to say the mantle itself implies it was more likely to have simply been a mutated hoglin, a rare subspecies, or some sort of thick-furred, primal ancestor. the bushy mane of the mantle is very rough and sharp, but fades into a much softer coat further down the cloak– though it does have hints of red here and there, so perhaps not everything was an exaggeration.

the most pressing question is whether the entire thing is just folklore– if the mantle came from a real beast that existed at all or if it was just such a common tale told by the worshippers of the blood god that he himself heard and manifested the trophy into existence.

there really is no way to tell, unless you ask a certain old bird.

true or not, the boar’s story is that of an honourable plague. an animal that destroyed everything in its path and always, without fail, won. no matter how many of the world’s finest warriors sought it out, the beast never fell– never came close to falling. it lived a long and prosperous life, ruining others’, and the blood it spilt is said to have given the crimson forests their colour. it died old and happy as its tusks bore through and into its own skull, the crown on the mantle is representative of that– with the added flair of an article of holy clothing, that is. a crown of emerging tusks, not a trophy because of symbolism of some hero overcoming an impossible foe, but of a beast who lived life to the fullest. the unkillable imbuing its own virtue upon the wearer.

the mantle doesnt give so much as it exacerbates, though, granted only to those who, by their own merit, would inevitably live a life like the boar’s.

essentially while the blood god’s blessing doesn’t best the passage of time, it’ still kickass. and techno wasn’t given his chad nature by some god, he was just recognized for it.

the blessing– again, at a young age– also gave him his very striking eyes and tusks! the eyes are inspired by those of a bearded vulture, where their actual function is flushing blood into the sclera to intimidate other animals (which is just so incredibly perfect). it technically isn’t permanent, but is attached to such a minute increase in heartrate that unless he is incredibly bored his sclera is nearly always red. it’s a good way to tell if he’s sleeping, at least? that is if you can’t pick it up from the closed eyes, blanket, and snoring.

the tusks came in gradually as he aged, and on the topic of physical features his hair is dyed!

the voices (chat) were passed to him along with the mantle, which essentially functions as a selkie style half-pelt that fuses to him, grants him strength and heightened susceptibility to the aforementioned Chat (tm). he’s not a monster by any means when ‘fused’, but behaves slightly more like a big silly dog. or wolf, i guess, given the times he tends to use it. it’s actually the form he’s most comfortable in given how much more durable he is (hence boar guy in his reading glasses chilling up there) but over time without breaks from it the voices grate at him more and more. he kinda took a break from using it after doomsday.

he’s about 6’3 as a humanoid, but closer to 7’ fused with the mantle! it fuses from his chin, down his spine & shoulders to the tail, and finally down his legs.

his forearms, stomach (& most of his back) and neck are almost entirely unchanged minus the scale and build being a little altered! the cape/fabric part actually entirely disappears, and while the action of donning it is a very physical ‘putting it on’, taking it off is more of a mental thing— which poses a challenge when the voices have cause to be particularly loud and he just wants out but can’t focus.

the last few things i’ll touch on is the reception in canon to this, and the effects of the attempted execution.

so nobody but phil and maybe the rest of sbi truly know much about this, it’s actually generally assumed around the server that it’s just whatever strange sort of creature that techno is.

the stories– and the blood god himself– exist primarily in the nether, and techno rarely ever met with people without the mantle fully equipped and fused. it certainly contributed to his reputation, to the point of others being baffled upon seeing his ‘human form’ after assuming for so long that a bipedal, prickly hoglin was just this freakazoid’s default. he didn’t mind; the less vulnerable the better. and it allowed him to wreak havoc a hell of a lot easier, with a hell of a lot fewer voices telling him to tone it down as opposed to his beta male humanoid form. if the butcher army had known to make him take it off, things could have turned out quite differently. but they didn’t, so they can suck it.

lastly, slightly anticlimactically, and a wee bit differently to the art (which, again, was just the rough design after having these ideas marinating in my brain sauces for 7 months with no outlet), the effects of the totem! there arent veins running down him or the mantle’s face as cool as that would be, because, y’know, practicality, but all of his tusks (since he was fused at the time of near-death) have cracks in them that have been mended with gold! he also has a striking, golden lock of hair directly around the impact site on both forms, and fancy gold irises that compliment his freaky deaky sclera wonderfully.

and there’s my techno shit! i’m probably forgetting a lot, or i just havent thought about it yet and will come up with my answer to any questions immediately upon being asked and no sooner but YOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!! if u read this far ily parasocially

#technoblade fanart #tagging that bc look it may be a repost of my fanart but #technoblade #dsmp technoblade #headcanons slash analysis #tham talks #tham talks so fucking much here oh my GOD

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musingmelsuinesmelancholy · 5 months

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Musing Maple

Requested by @birchwood-path some musings on the Maple.

I live in maple syrup country; maples are EVERYWHERE. Sugaring season is a big deal here, not only does it generate revenue but it's very much time for community. If you were to ask around, I think almost everyone would be able to tell of some very fond memories of the sugar-shack, the stories and jokes their friends, family and neighbors shared waiting anxiously to buy syrup. Clouds of sweet-smelling steam filling the air, kids clamoring for maple taffy. The sugarmakers patiently attending the boiling sap, sometimes giving out samples of fresh warm syrup. Maybe some would be able to recant their time collecting the sap, trudging out in knee-deep snow, praying they don't spill a drop. Long before our sugarshacks and [insert state name here] Maple Sundays the native peoples had been making syrup. One story I've been told states that during a time of food scarcity someone noticed a squirrel drinking the tree's sap. they tried it for themselves and found it unpalatable, I can't quite remember how but eventually it decided the sap will be boiled. I've heard it suggested that this or the maple's inner bark was a survival food for first nations peoples. Another story I've seen involves a young boy throwing his tomahawk at a tree, sweet sap flowed out and maple syrup was discovered.

I tend to look to things that were and are important to both the settlers and the first peoples, so as long as said thing is not especially sacred (sweetgrass for example), for aide in learning how to approach this land and rectify my ancestors' mistakes. Thankfully I have native family who I can ask if what I'm doing is appropriate or not. Maple and broadleaf plantain (blog coming soon) I work with in this capacity. Maple, I understand as a tutelary spirit. I approach them almost as would approach the guardian spirit of a place or thing- I see them as a gatekeeper. I ask to be humbled, to be taught a kinder way. To be in right relations with the land and the dead this tree {spirit} has provided for since ages ago. I seek their blessing and tutelage before and while I learn from the spirit of a native plant that I'm unfamiliar with. I see them as the lifeblood of the land, sustaining generation upon generation with their arboreal blood. Great provider, Hail! gifting us saccharine sustenance when all else is barren. In the same way community is built and strengthened around the sugarhouse so too is community, spirit community, built under Their branches.

For the sap to rise we need freezing temps at night and above freezing daytime temps. This, where I am, tends to occur late January-March. Sometimes the start of sugaring season happens to line up quite nicely with St Brigid's Feast; regardless, it's the first sign of winters wane, of the spring to come. I very much see this tree as carrier, emissary or perhaps even embodiment of the "serpent in the land" we are all so familiar with. Recently I have been toying with the idea of invoking said serpent as the "white" or maybe "clear" snake- rather than the red serpent often spoken of, due to the clear sap which herald's springs impending return. Coupled with the fiery orange the leaves turn in fall I am hoping this will work quite nicely. Especially since fire-in-the-water is important to me.

I also find maple syrup a wonderful offering to the land and the dead. In certain instances, (not all, honeyed dairy imo is required sometimes) I have found it more appropriate than honey, I'll sweeten milk or cream with it the same way one would with honey. I think of this as a fitting show of adapting our traditions to the land in a way that acknowledges first peoples and our history while giving a nod to my ancestral european trads/lore.

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hirazuki · 1 year

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🔥 maglor? 👀

Another one that I had considered to be an innocuous opinion, if not a general baseline understanding of the character, but was recently made aware of my error:

Maglor being a kinslayer/murderer/warrior and Maglor being gentle/kind/empathetic are not mutually exclusive!

He is a ruthless killer, if the situation calls for it, yes. He participates in everything -- from swearing the Oath to the Third Kinslaying and stealing the silmarils from Eonwe's camp -- and, as a wonderful post that's floating somewhere around here details, the fact that he is opposed, that he is lucidly aware of what his family's actions are and what they entail and what they will lead to, and he participates anyway, makes him even worse of a person than, say, Celegorm, who is fully committed to his beliefs. He's easily overshadowed by Maedhros, primarily, but also a few of the others in terms of battlefield prowess, both in the text and in fanon, but that doesn't mean that he isn't just as competent and deadly.

That in no way means that he isn't a kind and gentle person. The two have nothing to do with each other, and I fully believe that reading Maglor as the gentlest and kindest of Feanor's sons is not only a valid reading, but actually encouraged --

Maedhros (bless him, I love him so much, but this crispy boy really needs to chill) is all flaming hell and burning wrath and white fire, blood and swords and just constantly on the go; Celegorm is a hunter, wilderness and beasts and ambition; Caranthir is literally known for his temper; Curufin inherited his father's temperament (and we all know what Feanor is like); Amrod and Amras, sadly, aren't as detailed and well developed as the rest imo, so in terms of canon I wouldn't hold them to the same narrative weight as the others;

-- but Maglor, out of everyone, is associated with music and water, two elements that traditionally carry strong connotations of gentleness, healing, soothing, tranquility. Music, as the saying goes, can calm wild beasts, but in Tolkien's world, Song can also bring about destruction. And water, while it is life-giving and gentle, can also turn violent and lethal.

And I don't see why Maglor himself needs to be any different.

Everyone has different tastes, of course, and perhaps this is just my preference for complexity rearing its head, but denying Maglor the possibility of being both kinslayer and gentle soul, murderer and caretaker, is like throwing away half the character. And besides -- without going too deep into nature vs. nurture because that's a whole different topic and it's past midnight and I need to wake up in less than six hours for work -- who do you think Elrond got it from? I mean, yes, certainly there are people in whom these traits are inherent to a degree and they trend towards them, but the twins were too young to have learned their manners/decorum/history/lore/combat/etc. in their formative years from anyone but Maedhros and Maglor and, in my experience, kindness is a learned behavior.

#thanks so much for asking! ^^#maglor #silmarillion #tolkien #silm musings #silm

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enthusedbambi-jjba-au · 14 days

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Monster AU - Joestar Family Lore

brought to you by unexplained moment of omnipresence!

This is about the Joestar family in general. The only Joestar that I've confirmed to "be" anything other than human is Giorno (and his half brothers I suppose). But that doesn't mean the Joestar family is full of normal, magic-dry humans.

Let's start from the beginning:

Jonathan Joestar is a human being, and yet, he appears to be distinctly ethereal.

Not holy, per se, I could perhaps use the word 'divine', but the specific religious connotation that would probably conjure is not really meant to be part of it. The way I would tend to describe it would be 'some kind of ethereal entity borne of a miracle'. I'll just refer to this concept as 'the Entity' (with capital E) for simplicity. Within the bearers, there's a sense of righteousness that may be linked to it aswell.

Essentially, it was miraculous that anyone survived the carriage incident, and because George and Jonathan both did miraculously survive, they (but more specifically Jonathan) were hashtag blessed and the Entity became a part of Jonathan and subsequently his descendants. It's pretty simply passed down like genetics are; as generations pass on, there's some muddling or dilution, but every Joestar descendant from Jonathan onwards has this [non-Stand] Entity as a part of them to some extent. Even the normal ones (Holy); basically anyone with genetic parentage tracing back to Jonathan (so unfortunately no Joestars-in-law) will have it.

The muddling is because the Entity is more or less an entirely unique thing, so others that would have that same Entity as part of their being would be rare, if not completely nonexistent. Joestars are mostly having kids with normal humans, so over the generations it gets sort of 'watered down'. The Entity, however, is an incredibly strong thing, so much so that, even generations down the line, it's still detectable or distinct in them or their auras.

Furthermore, Hamon deeply resonates with the Entity, making it more powerful and more prominent; the two things seem to be somehow linked, and this connection may be why Joestars seem to be particularly skilled Hamon Users. Unfortunately, this also means that the Entity started to become much more subtle when the practise of Hamon was no longer passed down in the Joestar family.

So Joseph, despite being Jonathan's grandson, still has a very distinct presence of the Entity which furthermore gets even stronger throughout the events of Battle Tendency when he receives Hamon training. Though you'd never guess there's anything ethereal about him with how much of a little bitch he is

Then we get to Holy, Joseph's daughter. She's three generations (since Jonathan) along and the Entity (thanks in part to Joseph's attunement with Hamon) is still fairly strong. Her good natured spirit helps to bolster it somewhat, and though we never see her using Hamon, she definitely could. The Entity was strong enough for her that, when she was unable to control her own Stand, it helped her, through her will to survive, to withstand the full extent of her Stand's power, keeping her alive (I call bullshit on her not having enough fighting spirit and would like to see Holy throw hands).

So with Jotaro being Holy's son, Joseph's grandson (4 generations in), the Entity starts to become a bit passive. Jotaro doesn't practise Hamon and he's an asshole (albeit with overall noble intention) so the Entity has more or less ceased to be particularly distinct with him (though it might have had some influence on the sheer general capability of Star Platinum). It's still fairly plainly detectable in his aura.

And then we get to resident sleepy boy Josuke Higashikata, requiring a hop back in the generational line. Josuke is Joseph's son, consequently also being Holy's half-brother; thus, he's a third-generation Joestar descendant. This means that, similarly to Holy, the Entity is once again fairly strong (even though Joseph stopped practicing Hamon), and perhaps a little stronger due to another "miraculous" event that occurred in Josuke's childhood (when he'd been deathly ill); it's an Entity borne of a miracle, so it seems only natural that another miracle would strengthen it.

Now, I'm going to skip Giorno for a moment because he's a little... complicated.

Then comes Jolyne. Jolyne is Jotaro's daughter, Joseph's great-granddaughter; she's a 5th generation Joestar (and the only one of which we really know about) and by now, the connection with the Entity is quite faint, especially since it was already pretty subdued for Jotaro. It's detectable in her aura, but it doesn't seem to really have much impact on her.

Funnily enough, Jonathan aside, the Joestar descendant with the strongest attachment to the Entity... is Giorno.

Now before I get into detail about Giorno I need to address... the DIO. The Entity is linked intrinsically to both the spirit, and also to the physical form (hence why it's genetic), its primary attachment generally depending which is 'active', to put it simply. What this essentially means is that while a person is alive, the Entity is mainly attached to their soul. But if the person dies, the Entity typically becomes inactive. However, since DIO (who is, to simplify, still a vampire) decided to steal Jonathan's body when Jonathan died, that meant that Jonathan's body became active despite the lack of his soul, so the Entity remained attached to his body.

Giorno, technically being the son of both DIO and Jonathan (because of, you know, complete bullshit that just works), would inherit both the vampirism from DIO and the Entity directly from Jonathan. And this would also technically apply to Donatello, Ungalo and Rikiel (so, yes, they are all also part-vampire), but there's more when it comes to Giorno; since Gold Experience is basically Hamon: The Stand, the Entity particularly resonates with Giorno, meaning it's pretty much just as intense as it'd been for Jonathan.

This also further bolsters just how absolutely fucked Giorno's genetics are as a presumably three-piece, maybe four-piece hybrid... his aura is a fucking terror.

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cosmic-nebula356 · 1 month

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Facts for my Summer Clan leader????

For starters:

he is canonically dead :/ sorry

He along with EVERYONE in his summer clan: D e a d

His full name is Natsu Taiyō👀 (Natsu=Summer) (Taiyō=Sun)

He is very polite. Speaks from the heart, but isn't exactly the best with conflict he cannot solve.

Bro is like the sweetest, most precious being ever

Has a good sense of humor

Ever since meeting Haru, he’s developed a slight bit of sass with him, but not towards Fuyu

Sheltered baby sheltered baby sheltered baby no thanks to Fuyu❄️

Yugūre was the previous Summer Clan leader before he ascended to Paradise (more on that later 👀 perhaps)☀️

Natsu was chosen at the age of 6: He was more shy and more timid for a child compared to the usual reckless kits (like Aki)

Poor baby boy was so sheltered he don’t know sex in full detail. 😔 only the basics/doesn’t drink sake or alchahol of any kind (he was forbbiden to by Fuyu)

Loves the outdoors: he’s a fan of nature

Facninated by mortals and sees them as equals

Surprise surprise ✨ he actually likes dogs, even if dogs blow his cover when he visits the mortal realm/(or as I dub it as Land of The Flesh) And so he finds it easier to talk to them when they’re a dog spirit and whatnot

Is he the equivalent of a kitsune Jesus? Maybe 👀

He 6’4 ft baby ✨

Would sound exactly like Xie Lian specifically from the English Dub of Heaven Official’s Blessing (would recommend 100% to watch 👹👹👹)

Update: I’m deciding to switch up and join the rest in changing his name as Natsu 😭

Aight that’s all for now I'm willing to reveal here 👀 Seriously, I full heartedly believe the Kitsune boys are actually too good for blush blush because of the lore they have. I’m willing to go nuts with it for the angst, Freud, drama, just because holy shit- I love it! Sad Panda please don’t make a character who is canonically the Summer Clan leader 😭 let us be creative on who it is and what happened to them.

#blush blush game #blush blush oc #half shitpost #i wasn’t sure to include them or not #but they are in the shit post image #so Idk 😭#blush blush fuyu #blush blush haru #blush blush aki

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stories-and-chaos · 3 months

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Tarnished pt4

[Helluva Boss AU where Blitzø’s childhood theft from Stolas’ palace is discovered and major consequences ensue for everyone involved. Trying to stick with established lore but taking some liberties to make the drama work. Multiple headcanons from various sources I’ve come across included as suits the story. Starts roughly five years before Murder Family, I’m making assumptions about the timeline]

[18+ rating for language, sex, violence, alcohol consumption, abuse, and general Hellaverse-ness]

[Part 4/?? Word count 3270]

—————

Stella stabbed at her poached eggs with a fork. That limp prick continued to prove his position and power were wasted on him. Despite being gifted a servant that couldn’t say no, her sorry excuse of a husband insisted on treating the imp as an equal. As if those mayfly imps had anything close to the worth of demonic royalty.

Their rank had duties to go along with their inherent power. They commanded legions because they had the infernal right to, proved by ability over the ages.

She was from one of the high houses, but Stella had almost no magick herself. Her brother Andrealphus had more than enough power; the best Stella had ever managed was a tiny pink flame for a fleeting second. Andrealphus’ position in their family had been set in brimstone early on. The eldest, a male, with enough magick to fulfill his duties to the Goetia.

Hers had been shakier. Especially once her inability with magick became apparent. If she’d been a male, Stella might have still had a chance to command an army in support of her brother. If she’d been born first she could have been heir to the house and managed the family estate. If she’d had any power she could take a place among Ars Goetia, wielding magick in the name of Hell. But with the three strikes of gender, birth order, and lack of power against her, her parents stopped caring about her early on.

The most they’d done for her was arranging a marriage with one of King Paimon’s sons. “At least you can produce an heir for the boy,” her mother stated when they informed her of the decision. The portrait she’d been shown at the time was of a four eyed owl boy hugging a plush toy with a sweet smile. He couldn’t be a prince, he didn’t show any sort of authority like her father and brother.

No matter how much she’d raged against it, the engagement was final. She could scream, attack servants and pets, destroy any number of items in the estate, but nothing would change her parents' minds.

Stella focused her efforts on being the perfect wife for one of Hell’s princes. She learned to rule the servants with an iron claw. Her etiquette and poise were incomparable. She created a web of influence and information in high society. Even before adulthood she was on the bleeding edge of fashion. She was sure she could make that weak little boy into the prince she was meant to marry.

But no, not even that worked the way she wanted. He’d rather fuck an imp than lead his legions. He fulfilled his duties but he never participated in politics and power plays. He was too weak to command even the one being in all the Rings that couldn’t refuse him.

Even worse, she couldn’t eliminate the vermin. According to Andrealphus, something had altered the binding as it was laid on the imp. He had the protection of his master. Stella couldn’t kill him; likely only blessed weapons would be able too and they didn’t have enough to waste on imps.

He could be hurt however. She relished the memory of finding that out as much as she relished the sweet taste of her pancakes. With Andrealphus’ help, she’d tried to break the insolent creature’s spirit. They’d damaged him badly and even now there were times he recoiled in her presence.

It wasn’t enough though. She was used to inciting fear in lesser beings and the imp seemed to be leaving his fear of her behind. Perhaps it was time to go after her husband instead. With Stolas eliminated she would control the palace and have free reign with Octavia’s upbringing.

That would take time to arrange and maintaining her social connections and information network was crucial to success. Which meant staying on that bleeding fashion edge. Stella finished her liqueur spiked coffee and called for a car. Time to prepare.

—————

Blitzø’s apartment was in a vastly different area of the Pride Ring. It was situated in Imp City, located in the second circle. There weren’t many Sinners in this part of the Ring. As the name suggested the majority population was imps, with a scattering of Hellhounds and the rare Succubi. Unlike the well kept imposing estates they left behind, they were now surrounded by monotonous offices and apartments.

“Loonie! Daddy’s home!” Blitzø flung open the door to the one bedroom apartment. It didn’t much resemble the room at Stolas’ besides the overwhelming amount of horse decor. This was more like a bachelor pad than the extended stay hotel room vibe at the palace.

There was an imp woman about Moxxie’s age scrolling on her phone at the tiny table. “Oh hey Blitzø! Loona’s still in her room. Who’s yer friend?” Moxxie stopped dead at the doorway. This girl was the cutest imp he’d ever seen! She had a bubbly cheerfulness and her quick buck toothed smile was the brightest thing he’d seen in years. She had a heavy country accent that reminded him of his mom. It was like the sweetest honey from Gluttony warmed by that ring’s sunlight and Moxxie wanted to listen to her forever.

“Hey Mills, this is Moxxie, he helped me out of a bind. I’ll go check on my baby girl.” He marched over to the bedroom door, a distinct spring in his step. The door was plastered in caution tape and keep out signs. Blitzørespected those and knocked a pattern on the door.

The imp woman held out her hand. “Nice to meetcha, I’m Mildred. Everyone calls me Millie.” Moxxie shook her hand nervously. “Moxxie. Pleased to meet you Miss Millie.”

She chuckled. It wasn’t a sharp sound like he’d heard so often from his father or their sharky goons. It was a little embarrassed but friendly, soft. “I don’t think anybody’s called me ‘miss’ in forever. But if it works for ya. So how d’you know Blitzø?”

“We uh…” uh oh, he didn’t want to scare this girl off by saying he’d been in prison. Fortunately, the bedroom door yanked open, revealing a female Hellhound. Not a kid either, but a young woman.

“There’s my Loonie Toonie! Didya miss me?” Blitzøheld his arms open for a hug but the Hound just growled.

“What the fuck Blitzø, I don’t need a babysitter! I’m eighteen already!” she yelled. “Geezus I’ve been on my own for years, I don’t need you hovering over me!”

“Wait, that’s his daughter?” Moxxie asked in an undertone to Millie.

“Yup. I know, ‘s weird, he went to get a Hellhound to work at this business he keeps talkin’ about. Ended up adopting Loona as his kid. She says she was about to get kicked out of the kennels for being too old.” She shrugged and grinned. “Don’t let him fool you, he’s a big ol softie. Him and his princey boooooyfriiiieeeend.”

Blitzøwas making big eyes at Loona. “I was just worried since all this is still new for you sweetie. It’s a big adjustment.”

Loona rolled her eyes. “Ugh, I’m fine, can I go back to sleep now?”

“Depends on if you’ve had breakfast yet. It’s important to eat a proper diet, you’re a growing girl.”

“Yes, we ate, I’m gonna sleep.” Blitzø managed to get in one squishy kiss on her cheek and a head scratch before she disappeared behind her aggressively angsty door.

Millie gave Blitzø a knowing look. “I keep tellin you, she don’t need a babysitter. She pretty much did everything herself.”

Blitzø knew his daughter was self reliant. She’d had to be, stuck in the Hound adoption system for so long. He wanted her to have space to not take care of everything on her own. He couldn’t give her a childhood, but he could give her a place to be safe.

He knew something was working at least. She’d been sleeping, a lot. It had worried him at first, so he’d talked to Stolas about it. The owl demon was much wider read than he was and was able to reassure him. People that had been through extended stress and trauma, especially children and young people, tended to sleep excessively once they felt safe. It was almost like they had to catch up on all the rest they’d missed over the years. Loona had been at those kennels her whole life it sounded. She had a lot of rest to catch up on and at least she felt safe enough at Blitzø’s to do that.

“Alright you two, let’s leave Loona to her nap. I got something to talk to you both about.” He pushed them both out before locking the apartment door.

Presumably this was about the business he kept hinting to, which sounded just as dangerous as being in the mafia. Moxxie wasn’t used to women taking on dangerous roles in the mob.

Millie was just as surprised that soft spoken imp was being included. He seemed way too meek for this hit man business. He looked really smart, maybe Blitzø wanted Loona out on jobs and Moxxie in the office? Millie was used to her dad and brothers; muscular, stocky, and stoic. Most of her boyfriends had been of the same mold, no matter what kind of demon they were.

She had to admit Moxxie was attractive though. He had a charming openness and when he talked she could feel a passion brighter than any hellfire in him. From the cadence of his voice, it sounded like he was from Greed. Any imp from there tended to be capable of handling themselves. Moxxie probably was too, but it was hard to believe.

It was a bit of a walk to the tiny office Blitzø had rented. Stolas had offered him capital, but that would have undermined what Blitzø was trying to do. So this office (basically a meeting room with a closet at the moment) and his city apartment were paid for with funds he’d earned. Odd jobs (with various degrees of legality) all over the Seven Rings had gotten him enough to start.

“Alright kids!” Blitzø pinned a couple pages directly onto the wall once his prospective employees were seated. “I’m starting a professional assassination company, with security work for a specific client.” He whipped out a pointer with a flourish, smacking the page that said “All Imp Legion!!!! Fucking Awesome Game Plan!!!¡!” in crayon. “It’s phase one of my fucking master plan.”

“Stolas offered to put me in charge of a legion. But most are filled with fuckheads so I’m building the first imp legion.” He hopped up on the small table and started pacing on it. “Only problem is most imps that could fight in a legion are already up to some shady shit or making a living as laborers. Soooooo, I gotta get my name and word of the kinda thing I’m recruiting for out there.”

He jumped back down and tapped “Step one: hit man company” on the game plan. “I wanna hire you both as assassins. We start taking clients in the Pride Ring, word spreads how good we are at killing and we start getting more tough imps to join up until we got our legion. If it works, you both get to be officers with fuckin badass hats and shit.” He tapped down his list until “Step five: fuckin badass hats and shit.”

“Both of us?” Millie and Moxxie asked in unison then looked at each other wide eyed.

“Oh shit yeah, I’ve seen you both in action but you guys wouldn’t know. Millie is amazing at melee combat and her way with blades is fucking beautiful. Moxxie is a crack shot; he knows ranged weapons and explosives like a goddamn savant.”

“Well I’m down for it. Beats ‘babysitting’ or working on the farm. But Blitzø,” Millie leaned on the little table, “you’re not just doing this cause the prince told you too or nothin, right? Is this something you wanna do?”

Blitzø got quiet for a moment. He looked at his scribbled notes tacked up on the rented wall. “Yeah, I do. I’m tired of being treated like shit. I’m tired of imps being treated like shit. Most of those blue blood pricks think we’re worthless. Actually most demons think that, even a lot of imps. I wanna show everyone in Hell we’re not.” Millie nodded and said “I’m in.”

Moxxie wanted to clarify a few things first. “I assume the security work will be for Prince Stolas, since we’re essentially the start of his new legion. You specified taking clients in Pride, do you have a specific clientele already in mind? Also, where are we going to get weaponry? It sounds like you want to rely on the prince as little as possible so presumably he won’t be our supplier.”

“I’m impressed Mox. Yup, we’re doing the occasional bodyguard stint for Stolas, I’ve been doing that anyway so you’ll join in. As for clients, I figure most are gonna be Sinners. A shit ton of them have beef with the livin. And once they get their new claws on some cash, they might as well hire us to take care of that beef.”

Moxxie’s jaw dropped “How are we going to kill humans?!”

“Uh, yah, killing mortals sounds like fun, but Moxxie’s right. How’re we supposed to get to the living world?” Millie raised her hand like a student trying to get her teacher’s attention.

Blitzø gave them a toothy grin. “That’s the one thing Stolas is helping me with. He’s going to lend me his fancy ass magick book so we can portal up, kill whatever fuckers we’re hired to kill, and pop back down. As for weapons…” he jerked his thumb at the closet door. “Let’s just say there’s not mops in there. I’ve been stockpiling shit for years so we should be good for more than a few jobs. Once we got the cash flow we buy more for the arsenal.”

He placed both hands on the table. “You both know some of the shit I’ve got to deal with from the Goetia. But it’s my shit and you don’t gotta deal with it if you don’t want. We pull this off, we’re set for life but it’s life mixed up with blue blood jackasses.” He looked at the two steadily. “No hard feelings if you want out, now or later. Well, unless you drop out mid hit. Then your ass is mine.”

Millie stuck out her hand to Blitzø. “I’m still in. My hat better be fucking awesome.”

“You got it Mills.”

Moxxie had never wanted the responsibilities he was given in the mafia. The turf wars, heists, dealing with goons, even with all the dangers it was all uninspiring. Blitzø’s plan was crazy, ambitious, and Moxxie wanted in. The idea of (eventually) sticking it to demon royalty added to the appeal. And what better defense against anything Crimson might try than helping lead a legion?

“I’m in too sir.” Moxxie didn’t know it but his sharp smile at the moment was as viscous as any he’d seen from his father.

Blitzø shook both of their hands. “Alright fam, we got work to do before we get to killing for cash.” He tapped the other page. A logo spelling I.M.P. was drawn in crayon, the M made of stylized horns. “Immediate Murder Professionals is our name, killing who we’re paid to is the game. M and M, you two brainstorm ways to advertise and I want some fucking good ones. We’ll meet back here day after tomorrow at ten.” He opened the closet and they got a glimpse of the firearms and bladed weapons filling it. For his part, Blitzø pulled something out of a safe.

“Overtime pay for Millie, payment for earlier and an advance for Moxxie. Figure you’ll need that to find a place to crash.” He shooed them out to lock up. “Off you go bitches, see you in two days.” He wasn’t about to hand hold Moxxie all through the city.

Blitzø grabbed two greasy pizzas from a joint near his apartment. Should be enough for him and Loona. Knocking on her door he called “Loona, I got some pizza. They’re burn your mouth hot, right out of the oven.”

A moment and the door opened a crack. Just enough for a glowing red eye to peek out. “What kind…?” Her voice was a hesitant growl.

“Extra cheese on one, sausage and peppers on the other. Just the way you like it Loonie. You can take a plate to your room if you want.” Blitzø wasn’t going to force a skittish Hellhound to eat together if she didn’t want. The only rule was to clean up after; they were likely to get hellfire ants all over the apartment otherwise.

This time Loona slipped out and perched at the table. She only grabbed one slice of each and devoured them. Blitzø knew she’d grab more over the day. The stack of plates that greeted him whenever he got home told him she’d been eating at least.

Loona didn’t bolt back to her room immediately. Instead she drew her knees up to her chest and watched him. It was a little unnerving, but he was used to Hounds glaring at him.

“You went to Greed this time?” she finally asked. In the few months since she’d been adopted, Blitzø had been gone for a couple days in a row on a steady basis. This last stint was unusual, almost two weeks.

Blitzø answered around a mouthful of crust. “Yeah, got caught in some trouble. Backstabbing greedy fuckers. That’ll be the last time I’m gone for awhile. ‘Cept for times with Stolas.” He gulped down pizza before chomping on another slice. “I gotta get our business rolling here soon.”

Loona looked like she was about to say something but shrugged. “Okay, cool,” she muttered and slunk back to her room.

Blitzø reminded himself that this was progress. He had to let Loona take things at her pace. Too fast and he’d ruin this beginning relationship like so many others. After cleaning up he decided to stay here for the night. He sent a quick message to Stolas.

“be bak twomorw, wonna relx toonite”

“Of course darling. This morning was a bit much and you need some rest after your stint in Greed. Via is already hoping for your help in the morning. But if you can’t manage to get back until later I’m sure she’ll understand. Apparently you do a better job with preening than I do, as she has often told me during our outing today. I expect she’ll want help naming her newest taxidermy…creature when you arrive.”

“Cando. give Puffbll huzg frum me. flp off the fethar dusty fir me.”

“I’ll make it a double, discreetly. Please give my best to Loona. Before I forget we do need to discuss what happened over the past week when you get back. If you could message me when you’re on your way, it would be appreciated. Have a good evening dearest. ❤️”

“❤️ u floof”

With Loona having the bedroom, Blitzø was sleeping on the couch. He had pillows and blankets ready to go whenever he slept at the apartment. He channel surfed some while typing on his phone whenever he had an idea for I.M.P. Loona grabbed pizza a couple times overnight; he did his best not to draw attention to her, even when her rummaging woke him up in the middle of the night.

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#helluva fanfiction #helluva boss #helluva blitzo #helluva stolas #helluva stolitz #blitzo x stolas #helluva moxxie #hellaverse #helluva au #helluva stella #helluva millie #millie x moxxie #fanfic #writing #helluva loona

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wanderer-moonchild · 2 years

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As usual, when endgame lore drops, Kaeya’s stans go crazy with their theories bc our boy’s lore is pretty complicated and could fill an entire book. So, here’s my very long essay on it.

As much as Pierro’s design has similarities to Kaeya’s, I don’t think he is his father. At least, not with the amount of information we have about them.

According to the pale flame artifact, he was a sage who failed to earn the favor of the previous ruler and, somehow, he and Tsaritsa connected. “Then I shall become instead a fool, a Fatuus, and devote myself to Her Majesty, who understands my pain...”

Pierro’s main goal seems to be to challenge the divine principles in order to create a new world order. “Let us don our masks in mockery of the world as we go forth and rewrite the rules of destiny.”

He also wants to cleanse the abyss, where the cursed Khaenri’ahns live, and the Abyss Order carry their own plans. As we know so far, they are: create a mechanical god to match the god’s powers, revive the homeland and break Celestia’s curse. "Let the darkness of corruption, the pain of the world, and the humans, beasts, and the sin they carry all be purified by silent ice."

In the Wise Doctor's Pinion from the Pale Flame set, which has to do with Dottore and Pierro's relationship, it says that Pierro asked Dottore to create "improved humans" (experiments with god residue as we’ve seen in the webtoon) and he even alluded to the possibility of creating a god-like being.

Fundamentally, the goals of the Fatui and the Abyss Order are the same and will have a similar outcome. Whoever succeeds in destroying the gods will create a completely different world. Perhaps these events will be similar to the Archon War.

The abyss sibling has emotional ties to Khaenri’ah and not only wants to overthrow the gods, but also to bring back their homeland so they can live a dignified life again.

Pierro, on the other hand, has apparently cut ties with his people who “ushered in a tide of wrath, destruction and foolishness” and devoted himself to Tsaritsa because she understood his pain. The fact that Pierro quickly turned to serve another royal leads me to believe that he fits the role of an advisor rather than a ruler.

What about Kaeya, then?

He was placed in Mondstadt as an agent of Khaenri’ah – not of the Abyss Order, not of the fatui. Plus, his lore seems to have more to do with the abyss than with the fatui:

The dwarf Alberich, which is Kaeya’s surname, is known as the ‘ruler of supernatural beings’. He appears in several epic German tales and, in the 'Der Ring des Nibelungen', he steals gold from the Rhine maidens to forge a ring that grants him this power. You know, Rhinedottir, Albedo’s creator who also goes by Gold???

Kaeya’s second constellation ‘Never-Ending Performance’ has the same name as Childe’s boss battle theme (chaeya confirmed).

Kaeya’s attacks are similar to those of Abyss Mages and Abyss Lectors.

Kaeya was the first person to tell the traveler about the Abyss Order’s leader, which I think is VERY SUS. The traveler and the anemo archon went off to deal with the Stormterror, leaving Kaeya to deal with a supposed attack by the Abyss Order that no one but him witnessed?? Even Amber was like “Kaeya is lazy and left me and the Knights alone to defend Mondstadt >:(“. The way Kaeya talks about this it’s also incredibly sus. He says he is blessed with “linguistic powers”, and later we learn that he can speak hilichurlian????

ALSO, why would he tell the traveler, someone he barely knows, this important information? Sure, the traveler helped them and is the honorary knight, but… I don’t know, Kaeya certainly didn’t entirely trust them as we saw in his story quest, so that seems a little too convenient to me. Maybe he met the abyss sibling and was instructed to tell the traveler about it?

And that’s all I can think of right now.

I don’t think Kaeya works for the Abyss Order, though. It could be that there’s a 3rd group of Khaenri’ahns hanging around somewhere and they have closer ties to the abyss than to the surface, but they aren’t part of the Abyss Order.

Dainsleif is one of the reasons I think that. He was the captain of the royal knights, and, in the chasm quest, he says that he went back to the castle after telling the knights to protect the people of Khaenri’ah.

However, Dainsleif seems to not be aware of Kaeya’s existence and, somehow, he became closer to the abyss sibling rather than to the royal family, who he was supposed to serve.

Perhaps the royal family had already fled when he arrived at the castle, so he doesn’t know anything about their whereabouts? Perhaps that was the time when he and the abyssal sibling became closer? IDK, something must've happened in that short period of time.

The other reason is the Abyss Corridor in the Spiral Abyss, which is known to connect worlds and was built by an ancient civilization long gone. What if the royal family fled to the Abyss Corridor when the gods attacked Khaenri’ah? Or they moved to the Abyss Corridor after Khaenri’ah fell into the abyss bc living there became impossible?

In his story, it says: “Kaeya's father squeezed his son's lean shoulders as he spoke, seemingly looking right through Kaeya to some place far beyond. On the other side of the horizon sat their distant homeland of Khaenri'ah.”

Hoyoverse could’ve said ‘ruins of Khaenri’ah’, or even mention something about Khaenri’ah being underground, but they didn’t. So, Khaenri’ah is still definitely a place somewhere and people who've received a curse similar to Kaeya probably live there.

SO…

In short, the characters from Khaenri'ah are all connected and have similar goals, but we lack information about how they relate to each other. Personally, I don't think Pierro and Kaeya are directly related because much of Kaeya's lore points to the abyss (not necessarily the Abyss Order) instead of the fatui, but perhaps Hoyoverse has an interesting way to connect them.

#genshin impact #genshin #kaeya #pierro #genshin theories #genshin thoughts #abyss order #dainsleif #why is kaeya always connected to something important and hoyoverse never gives him screen time #genshin makes me practice my english skills at least lol

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swamphaunt · 3 months

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Mercutio my special boy is done <3 Short lore blurb under the cut

Hatched under the starsign of the Windsinger into a wandering caravan, Mercutio had always been on a lifelong journey throughout his rotting homeland. Some say he would’ve been a fine addition at the trading post, hawking his specialty cocktail, Blightheart Bile. Others simply shake their heads and say he should go for a swim in the wyrmwound and be done with it all. Nevertheless, it’s almost as if the Plaguebringer herself blessed the vagrant mirror; when searching for a guide across the Boneyard, few can compare in terms of experience, despite his youth. Perhaps one day he’ll settle down for good, and open a tavern for his fellow wanderers. Or perhaps that tavern will be on wheels, and they’ll have to wander out into the desert to find him. The latter sounds far more likely.

#fr #flight rising #dragon share #my writing #plague pride

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ambyandony · 11 months

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Monster AU - Joestar Family Lore

Spoilers for Phantom Blood I guess?? Maybe-spoilers for some of the other parts?

I actually made a piece featuring the JoJos of the Joestar family (prime universe) for Inktober (using unofficial prompts) so that will serve as my décor for this lore post.

This post is about the Joestar family in general. The only Joestar that I've confirmed to "be" anything other than human is Giorno (and his half brothers I suppose). But that doesn't mean the Joestar family is full of normal, magic-dry humans.

Let's start from the beginning:

Jonathan Joestar is a human being, and yet, he appears to be distinctly ethereal.

Now, I'm going to skip Giorno for a moment because he's a little... complicated.

Funnily enough, Jonathan aside, the Joestar descendant with the strongest attachment to the Entity... is Giorno.

This also further bolsters just how absolutely fucked Giorno's genetics are as a presumably three-piece, maybe four-piece hybrid... his aura is a fucking terror.

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hdsudsfest · 1 year

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HD Sudsfest: Week Three

Wow, what a week!! We're thrilled to round out the third week of Sudsfest 2022 with these incredible fics and works of art. If you haven't had a chance to enjoy them yet, what are you waiting for? The bathwater's warm...

[ART] After Hours by @melcarrianna { E, Digital art }

After a long day full of photo shoots Draco and his photographer take advantage of the giant bath from their last shoot to work off some tension. Suds aren’t the only things getting into places.

❤️ "They are both so beautiful, first of all. I love how muscular they are, I love their skin tones, I love the background. I love Draco's nipple, as well. I love it all." —Rhyebony

❤️ "...whoa. This is gorgeous!! And so so hot and steamy 😶🌫️🥵 I love this so so much!! The way you drew them. They’re so perfect and intimate!" —Clueless_Pigeons

[FIC] Tom Crup Gets a Bath by @myrtlefics/ CreepingMyrtle { T, 1.3k }

When Draco Malfoy graciously opens his home to an absolute disaster of a crup, there’s only one place to turn for help: Harry’s Crup Care: Quality Care for Calamitous Crups. Trained and Certified by Warbeck Kennels- Yes, those Warbeck Kennels!

❤️ "Oh I loved this so so much!! It was funny and sweet and your Draco voice was perfect!!! I am obsessed with this lost little crup." —nv-md

❤️ "oh my god!!! Draco's inner monologue was cracking me up! Bless you for picking this prompt, what a gem." —InnerLilith

[ART] Room to Explore by @julcheninred/ julchen_in_red { T, Paper Art and Embroidery }

In an ancient castle heavy with past and prophecy, a place to begin anew is an unexpected gift.

❤️ "The mermaid lore and take on the Prefects’ bathroom is so novel and fascinating. Oh wow the embroidery work is gorgeous. The lightness it brings to the room is palpable." —Romaine

❤️ "I find myself getting lost in the detailed patterns, especially the swirls of the roses... The composition is also fantastic. I love where you put Harry and Draco. The whole thing keeps my eyes moving from the boys to the faucets to the embroidery and back again. The fic reinforces everything in the piece giving the perfect backstory to this scene." —m4g0rtz

[FIC] of course i cum fast, i’ve got a snitch to catch by @swoontodeath / swoons { E, 7.5k }

Strangest of all, Potter never lasts more than two minutes — and that’s if Draco’s being really, really generous with his time-keeping. It should be off-putting, but Draco’s just intrigued. Perhaps that’s why he’s watched Potter wank in the showers so often.

❤️ "Amazing, funny, perfectly steamy! I loved!!!" —citrusses

❤️ "This is the most obsessive, hilarious thing ever. Peeping Tom Draco might just be my new favorite 😆... This was exquisite." —Schmem_14

[ART] Immerse your soul in love by @maesterchill { M, Digital Art }

After a particularly bad full moon spent in the forests of Glenmore, Potions Professor Draco Malfoy brews himself strong potions to heal his wounds. He must immerse himself fully twice a month as the moon wanes, in water as hot as he can bear. This thing he has going on with Professor Potter is new, and mostly physical—make that all physical—and so Draco is more than a little uncertain about asking Potter to stay in his quarters while he bathes. In the cold, brittle light of morning everything between them feels far too vulnerable and stripped bare. The medicinal bathwater stings but Potter soothes him with gentle words, washes him with careful hands, and dries him with a soft towel. And they talk, finally, about the war, about their guilt, and about how very, very long they’ve been in love with one another.

❤️ "Oh, so lovely and tender and intimate! I love the tones in this, and the body language is beautiful." —gracerene

❤️ "Oh wow, the emotion in this! The care! Harry's white butt! The light coming through the window is gorgeous, lighting up the steam from the bath! The pose is so strikingly vulnerable, for both of them. My heart! What a piece!" —lq_traintracks

[FIC] but first, we fight by @nv-md/ nv-md (ANW815) { M, 8.1k }

Fighting with Draco Malfoy has never been quite this thrilling...or this frustrating. Harry's always horny, Draco's in denial, and there simply isn't enough time in the day to fight crime and watch your ex-archnemesis wash his arse. Or what it's like to be in love with Draco Malfoy and have to see him naked in the goddamn shower.

❤️ "...this is completely divine. One of the best things I've read in a long time. You captured them PERFECTLY—as always—and gave us the perfect balance of angst and fluff. The perfect amount of heartbreak, and the perfect resolution of love and satisfaction..." —Phoebe_Delia

❤️ "You deserve a hall of fame trophy for the sexual tension. The fighting is so well observed and it is scorching." —skeptique

[ART] Under (Water) Pressure by @sugareey-makes-stuff { E, Digital Art }

A shower wasn't going to provide a resolution to their latest row, but right now, Draco didn't care. Not when a wet and naked Harry kissed him hard on the mouth, making the filthiest sounds as they pressed their bodies firmly against each other.

❤️ "There's such a beautiful tension to their positions; you totally capture that moment of utter desperation right before it slides into relief. As always, your use of shading conveys so much energy, and in this case it captures the neediness of the prompt beautifully. Stellar work" —PalenDrome (nerdherderette)

❤️ "I am dying! This is exquisite!!! The intensity, the passion you’ve captured is off the charts" —MysticKitten42

[FIC] A Healing Bath by @cluelesspigeons { T, 2.3k }

When Harry gets injured on an Auror mission, he is forced to take a bath so his wounds will heal better. Unfortunately, Harry doesn't like baths. At all.

❤️ "LUFF! I am a puddle of feelings. This is such a heart-soother. I can’t seem to get enough of this" —HP_fanfics17

❤️ "Of course this fic is good! Omg I love it! 😍❤️ It's so sweet and domestic..." —Nelween

[FIC] The love you no longer seek by @teacup-tai / Tainara_Black { M, 1.3k }

Harry’s smile is small and painful. His head lolls to the side to watch Draco with such deep emotion, such a turmoil, such confusion. “Come here,” Harry whispers, voice deep, palm turning up, hand reaching towards his husband.

❤️ "This was heartbreaking and the contrast to the tenderness and how much they love each other made it even more so." —KatIsSleeping

❤️ "Oh this is gorgeous and heartbreaking. How the relationship ends not with fights and screaming but in such a tender moment. My heart shattered for both of them. This is beautiful, well done." —Basicallyahedgehog

[FIC] the shape of memory by @hogwartsfirebolt { T, 3k }

Harry's brush with death has left consequences. Thankfully, Draco is there to help him navigate the uncertain waters of his mind.

❤️ "The emotions you convey through everything just makes my heart melt. The scenery and how Harry's mind is built is just so very beautiful, with the idea that it always stays the same, as a forest. Draco is just so smitten and caring in this… thank you for sharing this delicate and dazzling piece." —Bubblegumhead

❤️ "This was so moving !! the idea that harry will always come back to draco is so beautiful." —verygaydrarry

[FIC] On The Shore by @skeptiquewrites { T, 3k }

Draco takes up wild swimming. Harry joins him.

❤️ "This was incredibly lovely and breathtaking as usual. I love your grip on these characters, the comforting quietness of their interactions, the soft nuances, the uncomplicated get together and overall mature, contemplative mood." —sitp

❤️ "Ohhh I loved this so much! The atmosphere and quietness and Harry’s question at the end— you’ve captured the entire experience of winter swimming and years of vibes all at once." —CreepingMyrtle

[ART] The Next Morning, Somewhere in Paris by @gryffindorhearts { T, Digital Art }

Their first year as fully-fledged Aurors hasn't been easy, to say the least. Being partners with Draco (in more ways than one) has been full of surprises, both wonderful and infuriating. Not to mention hunting down dark wizards, uncovering dangerous artifacts, and the endless stream of Ministry paperwork. Their latest mission took them racing through the alleyways of Paris for four days straight. Finally, they found reprieve amongst the golden tiles and cool porcelain of an ensuite with a view of the Seine. Harry doesn't know what street they're on, nor could he even recall the name of the hotel. But one thing is for certain: taking a chance on Draco was the best idea either of them has ever had.

❤️ "This is so soft and beautiful and that little heart-shaped bubble just made me melt!" —Krethes

❤️ "I LOVE THIS! OMG the soft kisses and Harry's arms around Draco, and the story of how long it's taken them to get here…FABULOUS!! It's so so so good, simply superb!!!" —nv-md

week 3 header art by fictional, please do not repost

#drarry #hpdm #draco malfoy #harry potter #hd sudsfest #hd sudsfest 2022 #harry potter fic #drarry fic #drarry art

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robo-drake09 · 8 months

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Sandy Lore and HCs!

Ft. a bit of Leondy at the end 💚💜

In honour of Sandy's birthday (Sept. 18) which I had missed 😭😭. Had to cook these HCs up properly to give them all the justice he deserves 🌠

Summary: a headcanon of mine regarding Sandy's potential and possible backstory. Has mentions of the Mystic trio's connection to the stars, their beliefs, and, at the end, some thoughts on the Shaman trio's beliefs in parallel to them.

☆

To start us off: I was inspired by Halley’s Comet for these headcanons.

Halley’s Comet is an astronomical event that follows the cycle of the comet that passes by earth every 75-79 years. I may interchange with Halley’s Comet or just a general comet that is the center of this hc.

Sandy, in my eyes, is the current chosen child of the stars. Holding a unique connection to the cosmos above. His, along with the rest of the Mystic Trio’s culture and beliefs, revolve around the endless space and the stars above. The Mystic Trio’s power is related directly to these, Sandy especially. As mentioned at the start, he is the current chosen child of the stars. The starchild. That's what they usually call the chosen ones. There is no pattern, bloodline, or any exact way to determine which person is the starchild at first, but there is somewhat of a way to sense it. They are one with the stars, and therefore, their fate lies with them. These select few are those blessed with special abilities, be that visions of the future, knowledge, immense power. It changes depending on the starchild or how they utilize their abilities. These powers may manifest at ages as young as 7 or even up to their teen years.

Tara found him on her travels, and almost immediately, she could tell he was different. There is no pattern, bloodline, or any way to determine which person is the starchild, but there is somewhat of a way to sense it. While Tara is able to tell a person’s future and possible paths, this successfully being the Park’s mysterious fortune teller, she had trouble with this boy. She couldn’t see anything in his future. Almost as if it was not her place to see, shrouded in a veil of sand. From here, she made it her mission to protect this child and try to figure out what he’s capable of. If he truly was the starchild, she would discover that through training and practice. It would be considered an honour to her in that way.

So, coming back to Halley’s comet. Let’s say this concept is the idea of what happens to the starchildren, as well as any of the people aligned with their culture. Those that follow these concepts believe that in every person, there are remnants of stardust from the very creation of the world. When they pass away, they rejoin the stars, the stardust rejoining it and adding to the endless cosmos that hold the essence of life, adding their own soul to that blanket of stars.

The starchild also follows the same fate. Howeber, they're able to become a beacon of sorts for the people still here on Earth. Starchildren become shooting stars, flying off in space, unbound by earth vessels anymore. Halley’s Comet (perhaps going by a different name once I fully flesh out a story) was the first starchild, now a beautiful star in the sky that comes by every 75~ years. It serves as a symbol of pride, a sign to say, “I'm still here after all these years. You'll make it through these times and one day join up here.” Then she’ll continue adventuring.

Gene has actually seen this comet many times throughout his lifetime. He’s been able to watch it with past starchildren, teachers, and every time he’s always so excited for that time period to see it too. Especially now as his brain has been stuck in the lamp, it’s possible he remembers the comet, yet doesn’t remember it exactly cause his memories are fuzzy. He can sort of experience that first beautiful sighting again.

While on the topic, the brightest stars in the sky are usually considered the founders of the powers originating in the stars. The North star, Polaris, is a symbol of hope. Then we have the brightest star in the sky (as of now I don’t have an exact example, but it seems like Sirius is a potential one?), seen as the Mother Star for all who are a part of this culture as the Mystic trio are.

Now, for a small addition with Leon and Sandy! Plus, some thought into the Shaman trio’s view on life as well.

Side note, I headcanon Leon as 13 and Sandy as 14. I know there's much conflict regarding these ages, but I have my evidence as well if anyone has issues. 🙏 I’ve HCed them this way for years. If you’re not a fan of the ship, just don’t go past the section below. Thanks!

☆

Still here to read? Aight, LET’S GO!!!

For some context, these two haven’t quite revealed their feelings about each other just yet. They’re just slightly pining, or just good friends at this point. Silly crushes yk?

One evening, Sandy invites Leon to the palace (current home of the Mystic Trio) to watch the comet, as it’s a very special event that only happens once every 70~ years! Leon’s excited, following Sandy all the way up to the top where they sit with some blankets and snacks.

Sandy of the two is the quieter one, that’s no surprise. What is a surprise however, is when Sandy is the more talkative one this evening. He starts telling Leon about the importance of this comet, and how he’s grateful that he agreed to watch it with him. He starts talking about how significant it is to their beliefs, as well as its importance to his own power according to Tara. The light of the comet would help him really feel that connection to the cosmos, and thus help him discover his abilities lying dormant.

The talk about how they believe the comet is such an important figure, an inspiration. As well as their beliefs about how one day they'll return to the skies as well… it really resonated with Leon. It's the first he's heard of this, actually. It's almost like an honour to be able to hear this sort of stuff. It's the one of the few times, perhaps maybe the first, that Sandy actually explained these concepts to him. To be so vulnerable for a moment to explain how he views life…truly, it's an honour.

It gives a sense of relatability with Leon, as the Shaman trio have a similar, yet different take. For the Shaman Trio (perhaps their tribe? Collection of tribes?), it is believed people are born from ancient, archaic souls of nature itself. Something that has been around since the start and will continue to live on long after they're gone. Their souls are born into vessels, living life and experiencing it all for the first time, before returning home to nature and the cycle to repeat again when it's ready. While the concepts are so different (returning to the stars vs. returning to the earth), there's this cycle that occurs with life and death.

Perhaps Leon sees a side of Sandy he hasn't before. A new sense of respect for the little dude.

There's a tiny scene I'd like to add as well. Allow me a moment to write it out:

☆

Sandy stares up at the stars, the light of the comet shining upon them as it goes shooting by. The glowing tail streaks across the sky, flickering with life and colour. He feels himself smiling, leaning his head on Leon's shoulder to rest.

"You know, when I rejoin the stars…I hope I can become a shooting star too." His voice is soft, yet subtly confident with its hopes.

Leon looked down at him, blinking. He let his hood down, running a hand through his brown curls as his heterochromatic eyes gazed upon the shooting star above.

"…yeah. I'm sure you will, one day."

Sandy hums in response, feeling the subtle confidence Leon had in his voice. It felt nice to hear someone affirm it for him.

They stay in silence as they watch the night sky. At some point, Leon wrapped an arm around Sandy… just because it was a bit chilly, of course. He chose to focus on the sights above them as Sandy relaxed against his shoulder.

☆

By the end of the night, Leon comes out of it with a bit more wisdom. Not only with the new knowledge of what Sandy has shared, but a bit more understanding towards his own beliefs. Again, it's one of the first times he's heard something so different, yet the same at the heart of it. It's nice.

Also, EXTRA extra stuff but feel free to imagine any ship you love watching the comet all at the same time ♡ imagine all the brawlers in their respective areas, all united under this one astronomical event. A once in a lifetime experience for sure.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading! I made a good chunk of these headcanons with a friend, and I thought a few days after Sandy's birthday would be the perfect time to share it.

#brawl stars #brawlstars #leondy #sandy #sandy brawl stars #brawl stars sandy #brawl stars leon #leon #tara #gene #robo writes #smh had to repost this cause I mixed up some text my bad-#headcanon #headcanons #halley's comet

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wispstalk · 2 years

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Mehunes Dagon is SUCH a fitting antagonist for Oblivion and I do wish his writing was better than just Random Evil Dude. Uriel’s reign wasn’t easy: I’m not a fan of the dude, but man, did shit HAPPEN. Then they come with words like these amidst a period of what already was political unrest, and it’s hard not to give in:

Can you imagine the MESS the last 40 years have been in Tamriel, between the Break in the West, the Red Year, the very ascension of Uriel to the throne? I don’t think Uriel was a particularly emperor, even if he was beloved by the Blades (which I do think must at least have a fat fucking paycheck). To your average citizen, their very God might as well have forgotten about them.

The Commentaries feed themselves on the unrest, on the dissatisfaction, on the hatred and rather than using it to fuel hope for a better future, they introduce a longing for the past in a way — a refusal to grow up and to walk with your own legs.

The want to return to the Mother is an interesting topic. To be with the Mother may be to be one, to have all your needs met, you’re safe, you’re secure. But do you exist? Can you call yourself human? Can you say you are alive? To live, to a degree, is conflict. To mature is to learn how to solve it.

The Magna Ge however live in stasis, as they fled Nirn in the infancy. They will never grow. They will never mature. They will never get to love this world, which is Other, and to get to love that Other. Living in the un-time, they seek the perfection that cannot exist in Mundus.

The Commentaries does raise a really good point: FUCK the Empire, stick it to the Man. But however, it takes the completely wrong turn with it, and rather than seeking to embrace the Other so we can join hands and walk together through the night, it forcibly wants to bring forth the dawn through annihilating said Other. In a way, it preaches equality, but only for a select few.

Which is why ultimately, Martin REFUSING to become the Emperor and in his humanity becoming Divine rather than becoming Divine manifest in humanity is such a fitting ending. The Empire is a relic of the Third Era, and Martin-Akatosh offered the Alessian Covenant to all of Tamriel by sealing shut the gates of Oblivion. It’s ultimately about the blessing of Time, of life, of living, of growing and maturing. That’s the end of the Arena, and the Beauty of Dawn.

Which may be why Skyrim in general is so disappoint LMAO

Really loved that you touched on the nature of the Magna Ge. Interesting to consider Mehrunes Dagon in this light: change and revolution are considered his spheres (perhaps through a mortal lens) but he was possibly created as a tool of these stagnant entities. It all comes down to perspective: people grounded in the flawed world and seeing the upheaval of his invasion vs. immortal timeless beings in stasis just seeing it as like, deleting a buggy section of code.

and the last paragraph... HOOO boy. your mind. "That's the end of the Arena, and the Beauty of Dawn." I have nothing intelligent to add I just love this

(answering this publicly w/ permission because it was so good, and also gonna add his disclaimer that this is personal interpretation rather than canon lore)

#daedra #lore #headcanons #asks

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lesbiansforboromir · 2 years

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I’m using @eamonorus-blog ‘s question here to do the post I’d been meaning to do for a while. But I want to give a bit of backstory first.

Initially, as many people were, I was very skeptical about the show. Tolkien adaptations and I have never gotten along and initial reveals about the show weren’t particularly inspiring. I hadn’t seen what I wanted to see out of a story about this particularly point in Middle-earth history; namely a deep dive into the political religious philosophy of Numenorean Kingsmen vs the Faithful. And not only that, I had some other lore and plot related concerns surrounding what was being released. MUCH of those issues have been settled since then within some of the recent promotional material but some still remain, namely;

- Why do we have two Durins living at the same time, considering they are supposed to have the same soul. - Where is Anarion that’s my fucking boy. (I’m more reassured about this one than I was before but it’s still present as a concern for now) - There is actually no feasible way to sensitively deal with the Numenorean slave trade, deforestation and colonialism without making Elendil a bad guy. - The Southlands plot is looking quite uncomfortable in terms of the implications it has for Middle men/High men politics but we really don’t know enough about it to say.

And really... that’s all the issues I have left! And what I’d say is, essentially, the things I’ve seen since the original first few leaks were released are more than exciting enough for me to still want to watch the show inspite of those four issues.

I have to start with talking about Numenor. Remember when I said I hadn’t seen what I wanted to see, the political religious philosophy of Numenorean Kingsmen vs the Faithful? Well since SDCC where RoP had a massive presence, that plot thread has been WELL in view. Trystan Gravelle (actor who’s playing Pharazon) has talked at LENGTH about the kingsman perspective, the worries and frustrations that drive him and the very understandable issues surrounding being a mortal in a world where immortal creatures exist and speak to you and ask you favours.

Lloyd Owen, Elendil’s actor, has mentioned that we find Elendil in a time of such high emotional turmoil that even HE is looking for more stability, turning away from the strict faithful dogma and looking more to the capitol. And Elendil having a crisis of faith? Perhaps the most exciting concept I’ve ever heard. I love Elendil’s crisis of faith I want to kiss it’s beautiful little head and tuck it into bed at night when it is inevitably resolved. Just the mere idea of watching Elendil struggle with these issues, not being just a stoney wall of holy righteousness, that’s interesting! I want to watch him go on that journey with his children! I want to see him discuss it with Pharazon and Miriel!

And these themes aren’t just present in the characters, the whole Numenorean set is riddled with such a depth of world building, I have to stim everytime I see a new thing about it. Numenor visually is what Peter Jackson never gave me for Gondor, there are COOLING TOWERS there are frescos and massive statues and tiny little secret shrines tucked away in street corners and adunaic graffiti over the top of elvish script!! Have you all seen Nimloth?

This is a terrible image but she’s absolutely beautiful in the trailers. And most vitally these more elven architectural arches built to honour her are falling into disrepair now that she is becoming more a symbol of what men are apparently barred from ever having, than a divine blessing.

I could go on and on about how excited I am just to see this Numenor, even if the rest of the show is absolutely terrible I will be excited to just turn the sound off and stare at more images like THIS and THIS and THIS

BUT I know not everyone cares about Numenor like I do SO, in terms of elf excitement (difficult for me, doesn’t come naturally but) The most promising thing I would say I’ve ever heard on the elf front is hearing Benjamin Walker (Gil Galad) talk about elves and their struggles in this particular era. There is going to be ELF POLITICS! They have thought about the tolls as well as the benefits of a somewhat immortal existence, Gil Galad and Galadriel have a RELATIONSHIP with each other that is both respectful and old and difficult, he’s talked about the need for elves to maintain a strict society given that grudges held can last forever, he’s talked about this weight of grief that the elves are trying to overcome by falling in love with Middle Earth. Like!! Even if you don’t like the specific way they’ve decided to go with some characters, doesnt that sound neat? Aren’t you intrigued? I know I am and I could not care less about elves.

The Dwarven stuff has to be the SECOND MOST exciting thing I want to see. Durin and Disa’s relationship is such a unique thing to see onscreen, we’ve never gotten a mainstream portrayal of dwarves who are in love with each other! And they are figuring out their own political discourse as well, they are treating with the elves, they are dealing with their family politics, Khazad Dum is at it’s HEIGHT and the sheer vastness of the design for the whole city just makes me buzz with a thrill each time I look at it. There’s also been a verbal acknowledgement from the writers team that dwarves have previously been depicted just for jokes on film, and that they all wanted to move away from that and treat dwarves with more care and respect. Which I’m all for! And I suppose this isn’t about the show itself but, did yall know Sophia Nomvete gave birth to her child a WEEK before she flew out to start filming the show? And they sewed special accomodations into her costumes to allow her to breast feed on set? That cast and crew members would take care of her baby whilst she was doing her scenes? I’m absolutely enamoured with Sophia honestly, she’s been the most elegant and bold and joyful ambassador for the series.

HOBBITS? Now for a long time I was really uncaring about the hobbit plotline, I love Lenny Henry but it seemed like an unnecessary addition to the show. BUT! Recently we got confirmation that we have entwives in the show. And isnt the idea of ancient hobbits interacting with entwives just the coolest? Especially when we know that will all go rapidly downhill VERy soon? And alongside the later seasons plots, they could be a great lead into a variety of aspects. I’m essentially accepting of them now and we’ll see how it goes.

The Southlands!! Are Mordor!! This is both terrifying and fascinating, we are going to see pre-sauron mordor, with what I can only assume are the people who... HOPEFULLY NOT ALL BUT SOME? Will become the slaves of Nurn. Which... as I said!! DICEY.. but still fascinating and I do want to see it.

There were a raft of short reviews from some folks who got to watch the first two episodes early and they were pretty much universally positive but the one that actually inspired me the most was a guy who said it was ‘beautiful’ but also ‘really dense and slow’. Which... isn’t that the greatest desire for tolkien fans? Fuck yeah give me the densest slowest show you’ve got.

The last thing I’ll say is like... I think I’m actually in a pretty good position. I think my already very great disappointment in the Jackson films has really helped me keep the right perspective for the show. It’s not going to be exactly what you all want it to be! The time compression is going to be frustrating, the character changes will be disorientating, the fandom that will spring up around it will have misconceptions about the lore and that WILL annoy you. But take it from me! You’ll survive and you’ll also still probably have a good time watching it to boot. Untense! Take a deep breath! This is an exciting new era for the tolkien fandom and you might as well enjoy yourself.

#rings of power #Erran AMA #rop AMA #the rings of power #tolkien #eamonorus-blog #chats #long post

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amethysttribble · 1 year

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Caught at Low Tide

Hey, @aeondelirium (or rather, @aeondecember) I’m your Secret Santa! I hope enjoy this fic!!

Thank you to @officialtolkiensecretsanta for organizing this event!

Elrond mourns his brother, and so, naturally, he finds himself in the water and at the mercy of Ulmo, as his family always does in times of turmoil.

Today, the smells of muck and brine and smoke were thick in the sky. Everything felt heavy, weighed down by the oppressive moisture in the air that was trapped and pressed low by the dark gray clouds above. It wasn’t raining yet, though. No rain, but sharp wind, tumultuous wind.

“The king of Arda mourns,” Vardamir had said, eyes closed but lids fluttering, head tilted towards the stormy sky.

Elrond- and this was not his proudest moment- had snorted.

That certainly put a damper on the grim but glorious funeral proceedings of King Elros Tar-Minyatur.

To think, the king’s Elven brother exhibiting obvious and loud disbelief at the idea of Manwe’s consideration. Disdain at the idea.

And short-lived Men had so little personal experience with the Valar, they were so insecure and impressionable about if they were loved by Eru’s steward. Morgoth’s whispers still ran deep in their history and lore. Their fledgling faith lived on interpretable spectacle and small signs and little blessings. The weather probably was a sign from Manwe too! It was all just a harmless expression of grief and desire for comfort, and Elrond-

Elros had always held so much respect and awe and love for the Valar after the War of the Wrath and Elrond successfully unwound a good bit of his work building trust for them in Numenor with one snort.

Stupid.

His nephew forgave him, though. How could he not? Vardamir was a father, a grandfather, and an eldest child. He was made of nothing but grace and patience for tempestuous youths.

Elrond did not feel like a youth. He wasn’t one, though the Elves eternally thought of him as Earendil and Elwing’s sad little boy, and the Men? His traitorous niece and nephews had aged to the point of graying and not respected him since. Even his little brother, in his last years, had treated him gently and sweetly, like he was a child.

It was humiliating, but what was more humiliating- Elrond felt as he sat in Elros’s chair in Elros’s study and felt small in the shadow of Elros’s death- was that he was validating them by acting like a child.

Can’t I be forgiven today? he thought bitterly, twirling an eagle-feather quill that he gifted Elros in his hands.

He already knew that he’d long since been forgiven for any indiscretion. He’d be forgiven anything this week. Fuck, but Elrond had been forgiven for everything his entire life, by everyone, with no hesitation, no quibbling, no reservations. Not even loving kinslayers or refusing the personal invitation of Manwe and Varda to join his parents in Valinor was beyond the good grace of Gil-galad and his court of the well-intentioned.

Ai, Elwing and Earendil’s little boy has suffered so much, give him time, we Elves have so much time.

Elros, though, noble Elros, Earendil and Elwing’s kingly son, he had not so much time and what wondrous things he did with it. He matured so quickly didn’t he?

But none of them- not the court of Lindon, not the children of Numenor whose predecessors had aged and turned over so many times the Elros was following in the wake of hundreds of his true friends, not even his nieces and nephews- knew Elros as Elrond had known him. They did not know him angry. They did not know him sad. They did not know him scared. They did not know him filled with regret and loss until his last, not nearly so unwavering as the many speeches given in his honor suggested.

My hands are shaking, Elros had said to him in their last private conversation together. I don’t know why. Fear? Excitement? Strain from hanging on? Or, perhaps it’s just death setting in.

He’d laughed.

All of that, maybe.

Elrond was taken with the urge to snap the quill in his hands in half. No one could get mad at him for that. He’d given this quill to Elros. No one could get mad at him for breaking it.

Slowly, Elrond set it back down.

He didn’t know why he was sitting here. Well, he did. He knew why. Vardamir wanted him to give a speech, and this was the only place where he might reasonably be left in peace to write one. The new king still balked at entering his father’s study. His siblings were not quite so deterred, but after Elrond glared Manwedil from the room, none had tried again to bring refreshments.

Elrond didn’t want refreshments. He wanted to wail for his fucking brother, the version of him that only he knew. That was the only version of Tar-Minyatur he could think to write of, but no one wanted to hear of that boy.

An Elros who was not perfectly magnanimous, perfectly in control, perfectly at peace all the time? Perish the thought. No, really, perish it. The first King of Numenor could not be remembered as anything but perfect.

Whenever Elrond had complained about the spectacle he was currently living through to his brother in years leading up to his death- during the long planning of a funeral that wasn’t yet needed, something that still baffled Elrond- Elros had just smirked.

“Come now, I know you appreciate the importance of a good show. We were taught the same lessons after all.”

Yes, he had been, and Elrond was still sure that Maglor would find this week-long event just as macabre and odd as he did.

But Men were odd creatures. Well, at least as odd as Elves, but unlike the former, Elrond had never claimed to understand Men. He’d understood none but one, but through him- and Elros through Elrond- he’d felt like he’d understood the whole world. And now…

Now, Elrond pushed back from his brother’s chair to stand, and turned towards the large, open space at his back. Past two glass doors that were hardly ever closed was Elros’s ‘balcony’, though it was as large as a courtyard, strewn about with couches and chairs and braziers; cushions, tables, and children’s toys. There was a telescope mounted in one corner, a liquor cabinet in another. This is where Elros's family had practically lived.

Deserted now, except for Elrond, at Elrond's own desire. He’d feel selfish for monopolizing this space in these days of mourning, which were different but no less hard for his nieces and nephews, but the weather was so bad. No one would want to sit out here anyway.

He meandered outside.

With the day so dark and gray and miserable, it was no wonder that it was starting to drizzle. Manwe must have had a hand in the weather, because this was truly how mournful days should look; all the poets and singers agreed. Strange then, how overcast always took Elrond back to days that made sense.

Back in the days where Morgoth’s smog clouded the sky so heavily and consistently, they hardly ever saw the sun and moon, and never the stars- except for one. Now knowing that the silmaril sailed the sky, even in those days, Elrond often mused that if he’d just put a little thought into it, he might have realized what that bright light up there was. Maedhros and Maglor certainly did. But they never told and Elrond and Elros never figured it out. They were far too busy.

Survival occupied their every day.

During their roaming march- never in one place for long for fear of assault; ostensibly from Morgoth’s forces, but assaults from other peoples was always an unspoken possibility- there was never any time for long bouts of contemplation. Everyone worked. Elrond and Elros gathered wood, set up tents, trapped animals, fished, cooked, cleaned, bore wine and water during war meetings between the Sons of Feanor and their commanders.

And in between their chore, they learned, learned, learned.

“Are they not princes of the House of Finwe?” Maedhros had once growled at a former mathematician turned spearman who was foolish enough to question what the point of schooling in this day and age was. “They will learn how to compunct themselves as proper lords; polite, learned lords. Has Morgoth taken our pride, sir? Or just yours? No prince of the Noldor shall go uneducated.”

He’d spit that word like a curse, ‘uneducated’. That had always stuck with Elrond, it was so different to how their mother thought. Elwing had prioritized knowing the most beautiful songs- that sounded just a little prettier in her voice- and understanding the ebb and flow of nature. Maedhros wanted them to know grammar.

And Elros and Elrond hated it, they really did. The days went in and out like that, chores and lessons, lessons then chores, meals spattered in between, and it was exhausting. They slept hard at night. Things were simple, though. Those days were occupied with routine, with familiarity, with certainty.

Routine, familiarity, and certainty can bring fondness to even the most gruesome of times, as long as they came with fairness. Or complete lack thereof. Nothing was fair in Morgoth’s Middle-earth, but that was its own kind of equality. It was the kind of cruel environment that brought clarity, like who you could afford to have as an enemy and who you couldn’t.

Like grief is a feeling that is inevitable and should be dwelled on for as short a time as possible. Spending too long on grief just brought more of it.

Now, though, with Morgoth vanquished, they all just had too much time on their hands. At least, that's how Elrond felt about it. Too much time for funerals, too much time for kindness, too much time for thinking.

“All I do these days,” Elrond muttered to himself, head tilted back towards the rain, “is think until I’m miserable.”

And now he did not even have Elros as a sounding board to tell him that he was being stupid.

A sob welled up again in Elrond's throat, and he swallowed it with a shout, stomping up and down. Dammit, dammit, dammit, he was tired of crying. He was tired of crowd-appropriate sorrow. He wanted to move, he wanted to-

Elrond danced miserably- stamping his feet with great power every time he landed- around the patio where he and Elros had so many joyous moments, so much happiness and love that they couldn't even imagine as children, and he hated all of this.

Elros lived such a good life. He lived such a good life. A happy, full life, overflowing with legacy that was being celebrated and carried on, and he’d been content to die. Elrond had helped his brother make this choice, he thought he would be content to see Elros die when the day came. But he wasn’t.

He fucking wasn’t.

Taken by a manic fury, Elrond sprang across the balcony towards the telescope, climbing his way onto the balustrade it was perched on, and leaned. He latched one hand around the pole that held up the telescope, planted one foot on the slippery rock beneath him, and leaned over the edge, one leg in the air.

“Why does everyone leave me!” he screamed at the sea and the sky and the western horizon of Valinor.

Elrond received a mouthful of seawater for his efforts.

Hacking and coughing, he looked ruefully at the waters below. Elros’s study was a hundred feet above the shoreline and it was low tide. If water was reaching so high up just to make Elrond’s day that little bit worse, it must be…

Elrond started to climb down the cliffside.

Damn Ulmo, he thought as he started painstakingly maneuvering his way down the sheer, wet rocks of Numenor’s western edge. Damn his water and his oceans and his meddling rivers.

Oh, how annoying they had been when they were children, trying to sweep them down stream, away from the kinslayers. To where, Elrond had always wondered. Surely not all the way to Balar. The ainur efforts at liberating them never came to anything but inconvenience, they were always plucked out of the waters by worried guardians.

Maedhros always worried they would drown. It was Maglor who exhaustedly explained that, no, the grandsons of Tuor must be beloved by the waters. Ulmo was trying to send them home.

Elros and Elrond had no scope to appreciate either sentiment. They were just tired and wet and scared.

Elrond was tired and wet now. His hands cut open by cold rock, knees scraped, limbs straining, he was angry, he was also as angry at Ulmo as when the Lord of the Tides had stooped before him and his brother and told them of the boon he gave their mother. As his feet hit the mucky sand of low tide and he shoved his sopping hair out of his face, he had the same demand for him.

Could you think of nothing more helpful to do?

“Oi!” Elrond yelled as he strode forward into the sea, “Do you have something to say!”

The sea was massively loud, churning and twisting as it had been doing all morning, the wind whipping it up into a frenzy. Elrond had to fight every step, both against being pulled forward and by being pushed backwards by the tide. And down. The sand was soft and grasping. It seemed like Ulmo had quite a lot to say, and if Elrond was in a more philosophical mood, he’d unplug his ears and listen to what the Lord of Tides’ domain was trying to communicate.

But that was a habit that Elros always rolled his eyes at and called, “So Elvish,” with a stupid smirk and then Elrond would tackle him to the ground and they’d wrestle until one of them had mud forcibly rubbed behind his ears, and-

And those days were gone. Those days were gone without any possibility for recovery and Elrond scarcely comprehended how short they’d been. So long for Elros, so short for him.

Battered and deafened by the sea, Elrond finally screamed at the top of his lungs.

He yelled until the breath ran short in his throat and then he drew in a large gulp of air, and cried out again, tilting his head back. This time, his throat burned when all the air was gone, but now that he’d started, Elrond wasn’t done. No one on Numenor could hear him here. No subjects to draw conclusions, no nieces and nephews to baby him, no Gil-galad so soon to arrive with his soft understanding that didn’t understand anything.

No Elf could understand this. No Man could understand this.

To be separated in fate from the one person who had been consistent throughout your life? Even when you’d both made those choices with eyes wide open and sure, it was… The dissonance could scarcely be comprehended.

So Elrond screamed until his voice was raw.

He let his knees give out and collapsed into the surf. The sand was soft beneath him and ruining his black mourning clothes, but damn, it was the calmest he’d felt since…

When Elrond tilted his head back towards the misting rain, he closed his eyes and was lying in bed with Elros once more. His little brother was wheezing with each breath, so drained and weak he could hardly sit up, but it did not impair their conversation. They were talking about being younger, the wild years of Numenor’s construction, when Elrond would leave the equally unfinished Lindon and they’d roam, alone and together around the lands of Eriador.

“It was Nîn-in-Eilph that I’ve missed in these infirm years. I loved it there. Every step was an adventure,” Elrod said in his creaky voice, and Elrond had smiled.

Lying on his side, face half covered by pillows, holding Elros’s hand, he said, “All of the Bruinen is beautiful. Do you remember that valley we found? I keep meaning to go back there, I keep thinking of it.”

Elros chuckled weakly.

“Only you would find yourself entranced with a patch of land so near troll dens. Oh, I worry about you, Elrond. What shall you do without me, hm? Without Numenor and the wisdom of Men to come running to when you are annoyed with your Elves?”

“And what about you?” Elrond replied softly. “What shall you do once you cross and you’re surrounded by only mortals? Where will Elrond be then and his Elvish wisdom to save you when you are annoyed by Men?”

Elros did not reply to that; Elrond supposed that they were too close to that eternal uncertainty for it to be funny.

He squeezed his brother’s hand.

“Don’t worry about me,” Elrond had whispered. “I’ll be fine. You know me. Comfortable everywhere.”

“And home nowhere,” Elros muttered in reply, squeezing back. He turned away with a slight smile, though, the knowing kind old Men and elder Elves got. “Too brave, too adventurous for your own good. But, no, no… You’ll be fine. I know it in my heart that you’ll find your home one day, Elrond. First, you just have to do everything and talk to everyone!”

“I will taste the world,” Elrond said, smirking.

Elros had chuckled, and started to drift then. Elrond sang for him. His brother napped for the last time, because when he awoke in just two hours, he summoned everyone important to his side and said his final goodbyes. Elros was gone before sundown.

Opening his mouth for the rain and the salty mist, Elrond thought they tasted very bitter. He did not want them, suddenly. He did not feel brave and adventurous; he did not feel like King Elros’s wild Elven brother with hands that could heal any ailment. Elrond felt very like everything he’d ever known was burning at his back and he didn’t want to run from the thing that caused that loss. After all, what did it hurt to embrace that which had destroyed you when there was nothing left behind you?

Not for the first time, Elrond wondered what it would be like to have made a different choice. Would he and Elros have died hand-in-hand as they’d been born hand-in-hand?

But his heart tugged and pulled, and he found himself bitterly wondering instead what it would be like right not if Elros had chosen differently. He would have liked that better. It wasn’t how it was, though.

Nothing was ever how Elrond would have liked it.

Which brought him right back around to the self-pity that had dragged him out to the sea which had stolen so much from him and still taunted. Mother, father, brother, Maglor, all of them stupidly entranced by the ocean water when Elrond thought he’d rather go rot in a river valley. Maybe he should just go lay down in the mud near that troll land and stay there for an age until he was subsumed and made part of the very earth, watching it all pass.

And when he awoke from that most natural slumber, perhaps the grief would be gone. Perhaps he would not mind being alone.

“Bah!” Elrond cried, letting out all his air with his exhalation. He threw himself back into the water, clueless as to what else to do with the storm in his chest. Under the water, Elrond drank and tried to say, Ulmo, if you’re to interfere, turn me into something else and let me fly away.

His lungs ached, his raw throat burned, and it felt good to focus on that pain. Everything was dark and white noise beneath the waves and he was free.

Which was why he was so annoyed when a gentle hand cupped the back of his head and lifted him up.

As he hacked and coughed and wiped at his salty face, Elrond glared miserably at the watery visage of Ulmo, Lord of the Tides. That transparent, saltwater form just raised a coy eyebrow at him, and Elrond spit some of the water from his mouth. It had been some time since he’d seen or spoken to this entity, but he felt no surprise; or awe.

“I knew you must be near,” Elrond muttered petulantly.

“I’m always near,” Ulmo intoned, voice bubbling like a creek, every word a song unto itself.

“Shall I find a desert, then, and see if you appear?”

“Cheeky.”

Elrond managed a strained quirk of his lips and not much else.

Ulmo blinked lazily at him, water flicking off his viscous eyelashes. Such a strange creature, even more timeless and unreadable than the most enlightened Elves. There was something alluring about such infinity to Elrond, but it did not come with reverence. Not for the first time, he was taken with the desire to stick his hands into an Ainur’s fea and dissect what he found there.

“Yet,” Ulmo burbled, “you were cheekier still in the days when we spoke often. Sweet child, sharp tongue. Wide eyes, stern stance. Gentle hands, long sword. You were scared, then. You are scared now.”

And Elrond sighed.

“I suppose so, my lord,” he mumbled, holding onto his ankles and leaning back. He turned his gaze towards the setting sun and pretended to study the clouds.

“Fear is not something to be ashamed of.”

“I know, my lord.” “Especially when faced with situations we have never known before.”

Elronnd’s eye twitched, and for the fourth time today, his temper got the better of him. He splashed water at Lord Ulmo, dismissing him and his words, and glared.

“Never known before and never again,” he snapped. “I only have one brother, one constant companion to lose. In fact, I am the only one who has ever known such a thing, and with a little luck, am likely to be the only one ever. So, yes, I am scared and cheeky in the face of such a thing. It is always I who is asked by Iluvatar to suffer strange and singular pains, so I hope you’ll forgive me for not acting with perfect grace.”

“The Valar have lost siblings to unknown and diverged fates,” Ulmo said and Elrond’s eyes went massive as shock and fury battled within him.

“Do not compare my brother to Morgoth,” he hissed quietly and the water around him grew unnaturally still, only the slightest ripple of tension emerging in a circle around him.

Ulmo did not look phased.

He merely said, “I meant myself, truly.”

Elrond floundered. Anger and indignation had been building, and just as suddenly, they fled from him, the waves moving once more. Lukewarm sea water splashed up his back, and Ellrond merely stared, stunned and lost. Ulmo, thankfully, explained.

“Myself, and the others whom you know. Our Manwe, our Varda, our Yavanna, so on. And our Melkor. Those of us who came to shape Arda left kin behind and we knew when we did that we would never return. Tulkas feels this choice most keenly. We still miss those left behind as I’m sure they miss us, but it was a choice made with open eyes. To leave, to stay. It was what was desired, needed by each individual. Sometimes we must leave loved ones behind when our paths diverge too heavily, and that is as natural a thing as… Well, as my rivers diverging never to meet again! Some, most, rather, come back together in the ocean, but some lonely few do not. Only the breaking of the world will reunite us.”

Ulmo tilted his head, hair dipping and dripping back into the sea.

“Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” Elrond whispered, looking away. He was suddenly embarrassed by his outburst, by his… lack of perspective. Yes, of course the Valar might be the only of Iluvatar’s children who understood him. How strange to not be alone in this pain. How… bitter. “Yes, I see now. I’m sorry.”

Slowly and gently, a water-light touch lifted his chin. Ulmo had no eyes, not in the traditional sense. In the liquid facsimile of a face, there were pockets of light where one's eyeballs typically were. They were infinitely deep and Elrond wished for such a perspective. He wished he could see instead of being bound by his hroa.

“Do not apologize, like a child caught with dirty hands. You do suffer uniquely. But even with Elros’s equally unique existence diverged beyond you, you are not alone.”

“I do know that,” Elrond said, sadness gripping him. He did, he did know he was not alone.

For all he dreaded having to see and feel Gil-galad’s grief and sympathy, Elrond knew he would embrace his almost, nearly brother like the world was ending all over again as soon as he saw him. He knew that Galadriel would be just as annoyed with the spectacle of this funeral and let him curse the world without judgement and Celeborn would hold him up without any fuss or trouble, easy to let love him. Celebrimbor would never flinch when Elrond wanted to talk about the strange and politically-difficult childhood he shared with his brother, and would let him cry bitterly for who wasn’t here. There was Thranduil and the other children of the War of the Wrath who would pass him a bottle, no questions asked, and not treat him as fragile.

But being alone and being alone were two different things. Elrond and Elros, Elros and Elrond… Who was just ‘Elrond’? He didn’t know. He was scared to find out.

As soon as Elrond’s face crumbled, Ulmo’s giant, watery hand began to caress his head and for the twelve-billionth time, he cried.

“When will it end?” Elrond blubbered around his tears. “When will it stop feeling like the right choice was to stay together?”

“Oh, child, never. You need be more concerned with if you ever start to feel like the right choice was for you to have made for Men. I don’t think you feel that way. I think you wish you could have had it both ways. That you could have had your choice and your brother. But you would have never wished miserable immortality on him just as he would have never wished miserable mortality on you. It is a tragedy; there were no perfect ends.”

“It hurts so much,” he wailed. His eyes and the sky and Ulmo were all so wet and blurry that it was hard to distinguish. The only thing clear was the star of Earendil rising in the sky. “We all keep having to make these choices and it hurts so much!”

“I know, child. The waters never stop moving, and it is cruel and it is glorious. My heart is filled with sorrow for you, but also hope.”

Elrond was hiccuping around his tears, shaking his head. Hope, hope, hope, what was it Maedhros said about hope? That it was for lovers and martyrs. Elrond did not want to be a martyr, but he did know love. He just… was so tired of that love bringing him pain. Of those he loved all but fleeing from him.

His love for Elros had not gone with his brother’s soul to the place of the Men. It was still here and it was heavy. Right now, Elrond had little hope of that love not drowning him.

“I’m scared,” he rasped, wiping at his eyes. “I knew it was coming, but I don’t know how to live with this eternity I’ve chosen without him. I’ve never done… anything without him.”

Ulmo made a noise like a rumbling waterfall, that washed away his fears as easily as cleaning up silt.

“Nonsense,” he rumbled. “You have made a home of Lindon without him. You have forged friendships without him. Traveled west of the Misty Mountains without him. Written treatises on the nature of the world without him. What you have not done is lived your life without him in your heart. You never will; I still remember our kin beyond the edge of Arda and you will always remember your brother. But what you will find is that the place in your heart he is held in will grow fonder and gentler in time. Lighter. Every weight feels heavier at low-tide.”

“Low-tide?” Elrond snorted, wetly and then had to cough around his tight throat.

“Yes,” Ulmo said, patting his head with one hand that just further drenched his hair while the other gestured at the drawn out tide around them. “Low-tide. The currents of life and time wash us up and pull us out, leaving us stranded for a time. But as long as we choose to keep trudging forward, the waters always come back.”

Elrond briefly considered telling Ulmo that this metaphor felt a little stretched, but… no. Woe betide him to reject poetry in times of pain. It was Elros who had preferred prose.

“But we still come back to the main issue,” Elrond said. “I don’t know how to swim alone.”

Ulmo shook his head at him, but did not scold. He merely said, “You don’t need to know how, you have done so all along. But if you are so frightened, think of it this way. Like a duckling, it will come naturally to you, after a time. You just need to let life carry you, follow the flows of water down the diverging paths according to what feels strongest, and you’ll get there. I know you, Elrond. The never-ending chase inspires you. You are scared now because you have found yourself in one of life’s many low-tides. You are stuck. But the waters will pick back up again, in time, and take you along. Be scared. But know that you will keep going.”

“I guess that’s what I signed up for,” Elrond laughed wryly, “to keep going and going and going. My Eru. I’m already tired.”

“You’ve hardly begun, child. There are many more tired days ahead of you.”

“So the Men keep telling me when they call me child,” Elrond said, glaring at Lord Ulmo once more, but this time it was with a slight smile on his lips.

“You are a child,” Ulmo sang, and he was already melting back into the waters. “Enjoy your wandering feet, Elrond. Let them take you where they need you to go. Search for all the answers your heart and mind taunt you to find, and then enjoy the days where you might call others ‘child’.”

Elrond, small and alone, didn’t think he’d ever know enough to call another ‘child’ so surely. But he… he… When he thought of following Elros beyond, he balked, because he wanted to learn. There was so much more to see and understand.

He was still sad that he did not have Elros to share it with.

On leaden limbs, Elrond stood. He could not sit in the sand forever. He was sure that his absence had already been noticed and Vardamir had sent people looking for him. Numenor loomed so largely before him, though. Elrond didn’t want to climb up its vaulted walls.

As he was considering the value of calling for help, he felt the water start to rise and come back in; and, more importantly, he felt the waters start to tug his legs to the left.

A boon, a melodic voice whispered in his ear, and Elrond decided that, well, he wasn’t a child anymore. He would follow the waters of Ulmo where they would take him today. He did not have anyone else to go running scared to, after all.

The tides carried him around the edge of Numenor’s slopping cliffs where the oldest parts of the grand city were built. They dipped lower as Elrond trudged forward until they gave way to grassy beach. Still, the waters guided him onward. As his legs started to ache and his feet grew sore, this strange path towards an unknown destination did not feel like a boon.

The night was growing closer, the star of Earendil bright but far away. Elrond walked, confused, in the dark until a familiar song greeted him from a distance. He moved faster, after he heard that, until a strange silhouette emerged before him, and Elros’s whispers about a shadow that visited him in the night made sense.

Yes, there was someone who knew and mounted Elros the peredhil and not Elros the king.

Out from Ulmo’s waters, Elrond ran for Maglor. When the music stopped, he was greeted with open arms. He breathed in harp polish, brine, and seared flesh, and felt at peace for the first time since Elros’s hand slipped from his.

Someone had come back to Elrond.

#i think this ends a little fast I'm sorry about that!#I enjoy writing young and angry and unsure Elrond #he was not always perfect #he earned his wisdom the hard way!#elrond #ulmo #elros #the silmarillion #tolkien #tribble post #fanfic

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