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feroluce · 1 year ago

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On Sampo's name (ALL of his names!)

I feel like everyone who's a fan knows the meaning of Sampo's full name by now- the sampo was a legendary item that could magically make endless supplies of gold, flour, and salt, all priceless items at the time! So it works perfectly for a scammer businessman like Sampo. ☆

"Koski" is the Finnish word for "water rapids" which might seem kinda random but actually makes sense for him, since Aha and the Masked Fools are also referred to with water terms:

This kind of analogy isn't specific to only Aha and the Masked Fools, but it does still tie them together. So water rapids fits perfectly! Sampo wants to stir the pot! He likes to shake things around and spice things up! He's taking that stagnant pool and turning it into water rapids! It would actually explain his ridiculous hair color, too; a dark blue wave tipped with white foam haha

EDIT: an amazing contribution from @ricochetlovebombs, who heard it from hoyolab user Rattaboy. If you interpret his first and last name together, instead of separately like I did, you would get something like "money river."

In other words, Sampo's name literally means CASH FLOW SKXJMDMDMD

What I really wanted to talk about is his drag alias name, though, Brughel Poisson, because to me that's where it gets really interesting.

So like in the English version, Sampo goes by Brughel Poisson when he's in disguise. Searching for just "Brughel" itself doesn't seem to get you much at first: a Flemish and Dutch Renaissance painter named Pieter Brueghel the Elder, who was famous for his landscapes and peasant scenery, especially Hunters in the Snow and The Blue Cloak.

He's referred to as "the Elder" because he had a son also named Pieter Brueghel (the Younger), and he began a long line of painters, all named Brueghel. Some of them did original work, and many of them created reproductions of the Elder's art to sell. The Elder was also famous as a printmaker. All of this is hilarious when you remember that Sampo is an infamous counterfeiter and has sold a relic called the Parallel Universe Printer JSKZJSMD

There is also something called Brueghel's Syndrome, named after one of Brueghel's paintings called De Gaper, which pictured a man yawning widely. It's a condition that causes the mouth to open and gape uncontrollably, twisting a person's countenance into a distorted mask of their usual face.

Tumblr doesn't have a way of censoring pics like twitter, so for the sake of the medically squeamish, I'm just showing De Gaper here. But if you look up Brueghel's Syndrome, you can find pictures of actual patients, some of whom really do make faces resembling Aha's comedy and tragedy masks!

In the Chinese and Japanese versions, his alias last name is a lot more silly- In those, "Sampo" is phonetically written as "san-bo" and "san-po." And in disguise, his last names are phonetically written as... "Bo-san" and "Po-san." The Chinese version uses different tones, but still. This smug asshole seriously just decided to write his own name backwards and called it a day NDMKXMDMD

In the English version, Poisson itself is kind of a reused Hoyo asset- it's also the name of Navia's fishing village in Genshin Impact. Which is a really silly name for a village, because it literally just means "fish" in French smzjxkdkdk but!

Again, more water imagery. And in English, if something is suspicious, we say that it's "fishy," which is perhaps the most fitting association yet for someone as shady as Sampo ☆

And for a good while I thought that was the only connection. But then. My beloved @hydrachea, who is an actual native French speaker, dropped this on me right after April Fool's Day:

Poisson is literally the word you use to pull an April Fool's prank.

#honkai star rail #sampo koski #brughel poisson #hsr sampo #hsr sampo koski #hsr #I feel like I should note that all the info on the CN/JP versions are things I know secondhand #it was posted in a server where there ARE actual people who can read/speak Chinese and Japanese and no one corrected it-#-so I'm assuming it's at least decently legit. but if it's in any way incorrect I would love to hear from others!#I'm especially interested in CN since it's the original. and I've never heard anything about 'Brughel' in any other languages.#so anyone else with fun tidbits about Sampo's name in LITERALLY ANY LANGUAGE please feel free to reblog/tag/askbox me that shit #I love learning stuff like that it's so fun ♡#fun story in the old myth the sampo was lost in the sea. and in genshin impact the village Poisson was flooded by the sea.#not only that but Brueghel's last painting- which was unfinished due to his early death- was titled The Storm at Sea.#something something foreshadowing-

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generalsdiary · 1 month ago

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The Desecration of thy Holy Temple

Dr. Ratio x Aventurine

word count: 3.3k

description: Dr. Ratio gets sick due to overworking (or catching something from the catcakes), and Aventurine takes care of him

a/n: this was written for the Ratiorine server spring exchange 2025

Stacks of papers cover the large mahogany table, organized in neat piles and displaying different subjects and classes. The blue hologram blinks the system time, keeping Veritas painfully aware of how slowly it is passing. A sting burns his eyes; he tries to rub it away only to sigh in pain. Staring into the same exam for hours is not good for anyone. He is aware of this, yet despite that, he wanted to get all of it done in one sitting.

It has proven to be unrealistic. Veritas’ focus is dropping, the letters are turning blurry and he is lamenting the obvious need for glasses. His significant other did insist that he wears them, although he assumes it is more because of aesthetic reasons rather than the betterment of his vision. His assumption may be proved wrong.

The ergonomic chair has little effect when the seated man is hunched forward. Unlike his usual perfect posture, his spine is crying out in pain, foreshadowing the upcoming arthritis he will most likely develop as a direct consequence. After all, he is not a teenager anymore. A middle aged man like him will inevitably get a heavy ache in his lower back soon enough.

Hesitantly, he lifts up the crimson box containing the tool that might aid him. Inside are a pair of circular glasses with dark brown frames. They have barely any weight in his hands, and even less weight on his nose.

The letters on the paper and the hologram stop moving around, the duplicates unify, and he rolls his eyes. Of course, the vision aid aids him.

Veritas straightens his posture, scolding himself for succumbing to the delicious desire of being hunched over. With his now perfect posture, he furiously begins typing notes for his own improvement in the upcoming lectures. The soft clicks and clacks of his old-fashioned keyboard fill the study room. Following the learning curve of his students and their current, disappointing performance, the end goal is how much they can take in, not how much he can get across.

The occasional mistake in his grammar, the odd letter off, makes him realize he is ignoring some unrecognized need of his. But Veritas is a stubborn, stubborn man. Rather than stopping and taking a break, he diligently pushes on, past the obvious migraine and something itching in his throat.

One nod, two nods, three—he gives up. Just a moment to rest his eyes won’t hurt. Veritas lays his cheek flat on the table, only for a moment. It aches his body; the odd pose hurts his neck and numbs his jaw. Just a second of shuteye. Maybe a minute. Then he will be good to go and get his work done. He unbuttons his white dress shirt—was it him or was the room getting really warm? Veritas always leaves the same temperature… would his husband change it for a random reason? Or did one of the catcakes jump up and… He groans softly, stopping his thoughts. It doesn’t matter, he needs only a moment… One… moment…

The time glides by like a lazy river at water parks—no rush, no thoughts and no sense of obligations. A fun, upbeat song bleeds into the room when the door opens. The fun, joyful words do little to rouse Veritas from his momentary respite.

The wonderful moment is ruined by the tug on his biceps, “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

“I’m, mh, taking a moment...” Veritas completely disregards his husband’s efforts, not bothering to even open his eyes. Kakavasha takes the opportunity to glance over Veritas’ watch, stepping closer and tapping on the small smooth black screen.

“Your digital watch is claiming you have been sleeping for nearly half a system hour.” Kakavasha presses a palm against his forehead, “And you’re running a fever!” Aventurine tuts in disbelief, “That’s it, time to go to bed.” The years of kindness, mutual love and care taught the blond how to set firm boundaries and how to take care of his husband. Various times when Kakavasha had befallen to a sickness taught him firsthand how it all works. The medicine, the affection, the patience… One of the greatest gifts he could possibly receive.

“Vasha, I only closed my eyes for a moment—I am fine.” Veritas lazily raises his head, huffing as he does so, narrowing his eyes until they focus on his surroundings.

“And as handsome as you look with those glasses,” Kakavasha gently takes the glasses off Veritas’ face and places them in their box, “You won’t need your reading glasses in bed.”

The doctor is quick to object, “I am not running a fever, it is simply warm… or,” Veritas hums, rubbing his chest, “A tad cold… Fuck. I can’t afford to be sick. l—“

The blond softly chuckles, “Funny how you have such high standards for yourself, but treat others with such patience.” Kakavasha smoothly quips, gently guiding the man up on his feet. It is only when he stands up to his full height that Kakavasha is reminded of how tall the man is, and how little he can actually help with carrying him over to their bedroom.

“Beloved, you cannot possibly carry me, so I will walk by myself,” he weakly gestures, waving his hand around with his eyes barely open.

“Can I not at least hold your hand?” The blond flashes him a million credits smile and slithers his arm next to Veritas’.

Veritas doesn’t have it in him to keep up the back-and-forth conversation, such as; how obvious his intentions are, how that smile doesn’t work on him (yes it does), so on and so forth. After years of marriage, he knows better than to quip. With a small approving nod, he allows Kakavasha to lead him to bed.

The very moment his head hits the feather-filled pillow, the man is out like a light. He practically glues down onto the sheets. The heaviness of his body keeps him well under and away from the conscious land. Another hour drives by in a fever-ran dream. Shivering under the heavy covers, he pulled over his body in sleep, sweating at the same time. If the man were conscious, he would have already taken the proper medicine.

Once more, Kakavasha awakens him, this time with a bowl of warm soup.

Warm savory vegetable soup energizes him plentifully, a familiar flavor of his childhood. “You followed my father’s recipe?” Veritas recalls the red leather notebook filled with handwritten recipes, one of which is his favorite soup.

“Yes, I did. It felt safer to cook that rather than… ramen or giving you something fried…” Kakavasha smiles and hands him a wet towel, which he rejects.

Being a doctor, he starts his lecture, “Drawing out high fever or any temperature of that kind via the forehead is a slow and, simply put, bad way to do it. Warming up or cooling down is much better to be achieved differently. Primarily, to draw it through the extremities,” he leans his head back on the pillow, taking a moment to close his eyes, “such as hands, palms, wrists, and feet. It is ideal to run one’s wrists under a stream of cold water. Also, showers are helpful—“ His infodump is cut short by his own gasp, dusk colored eyes snapping open, “What are you—“

Kakavasha had taken it upon himself to put cold-soaked socks onto Veritas, using the predictable lecture as a distraction, “Moonshine-soaked socks. The most optimal solution.” Coming from a different background, Kakavasha is well versed in homemade efficient solutions to various illnesses. Such as using strong alcohol to ease a high fever.

“You— ugh… it does… make sense.” Veritas continues softly hissing. The bright orange socks send a strong whiff of alcohol his way, feet resting neatly on top of a towel to not soak the bed sheets.

Kakavasha tuts, quietly reassuring him, “You will be alright, would you like your regular vitamins?”

“I took them after lunch. Can you… I would take them myself but I am obviously going to dirty the floor if I walk now,” he narrows his eyes at his husband, obviously judging his methods but there is no bite in his gaze, “Please bring me the box of medicine we keep in the fridge.”

Kakavasha smiles, but instead of standing back up, he leans towards him and kisses his cheek, “You’ve got it, handsome.”

“Blatant flirt...” Veritas tries to frown. Such an attempt is futile, thus only end up leading to complete failure. The intense blush on his cheeks, caused by the high fever, half-closed eyes, and the tiniest scrunch of his nose makes the man look utterly adorable. Kakavasha holds back the urge to cover him with kisses.

A fresh change of socks, a semi-cold shower, and a selection of appropriate medicine later, Veritas is eating freshly cut up fruit. Moreso shoving it down his throat due to his lack of appetite, while holding a staring contest with Kakavasha.

“Food.”

“Hmph. Food,” Veritas continues chewing, obviously unhappy.

“You know it is good for you.” Kakavasha moves closer, leaning onto Veritas’ shoulder.

“You’re cool to touch… don’t move away, please.” Veritas embraces the man, switching the position to spoon him, arms tightly wrapping around his waist. “However, I’d hate to infect you…” His arms lose the grip, letting go of the smaller man. One may take care of the other; alas, if both are sick, then the situation would turn into two men struggling to get well. Drowning in tissues, half-assed meals and high fevers is not something this household, or any for that matter, needs.

“With my luck, I doubt I’d get sick from you, doctor~” Kakavasha smiles as he moves away, he follows Veritas’ wishes – not finding any amusement in pushing the man’s boundaries. His words earned only a snort from his husband.

“You’d do better to not rely on your luck for trivial things, I do not find it amusing when you gamble your health, darling,” Veritas does not allow any self-deprecating humor to fly by.

Kakavasha cutely scrunches his nose and nods, “Yes, love. I won’t, I promise. Well…maybe—“

“Kakavasha.” Veritas sternly scolds him, glaring at him.

“Fine, fine, fine—no gambling,” Kakavasha is all smiles and giggles. Both men are well aware he might joke about this same topic again in the future—lightheartedly of course.

As luck would have it, Veritas got better quickly. The only price was the pure exhaustion, equivalent to a physical worker at the end of the day. An ache pierced down to his bones, an arrow through flesh. The weakness in his bones made Veritas feel weak, utterly helpless—a man laid on his deathbed. No fever, cough or sniffle tortured his days; in the eyes of his dear husband, Veritas was still in perfect shape for constant cuddles.

That is until he was met with the lowest act of it all—waking up in the middle of the night with a burn in his nose and an odd taste in his mouth. Stumbling towards the bathroom, his new companion: a migraine—piercing his temples. The, practically neon, bright light of the bathroom only worsens the numbness of his senses. Veritas washes his face once, twice, aimlessly staring at his reflection in the mirror in hopes he can glare the pain away. Partygoers, clubbers, or anyone who indulges in consuming alcoholic beverages must be acclimatized to such smells in dirty bathrooms. He assumes that a loss of sensation must be a common experience to them.Conversely, Veritas, the man who eats properly, sleeps appropriately and treats his body as the most sacred temple, is most definitely not used to the current predicament.

“Veri… darling, are you okay?” Kakavasha had quietly slipped into the bathroom. The deaf hours of the night, becoming much less deaf, and the side of his bed—which had already turned cold—were certainly alarming for Veritas’ husband.

“Vasha…” Veritas coughed once. His throat tingled with a burning sensation from the lack of moisture in it, “You shouldn’t be here, the smell alone is horrendous.” He shuddered when the stench hit his nose once more.

“I grew up and lived in much worse conditions, I can handle being around my loved one. And… the bathroom smells fine?” The blond tilts his head in question.

Veritas lets his head hang above the sink—limp as a ragdoll—and heavily sighs, “Must be this ridiculous cold.”

“Let me get you some water,” Kakavasha leaves with soft steps, and with strained vocal chords, Veritas weakly shouts after him, “I told you to wear slippers!”

“I prefer to feel the ground, Veritas!” The blond yells back from the kitchen.

A few moments later, he is once again by his side. “Here, drink up,” he hands him a glass of cold water that Veritas uses to clean out his mouth before he dares swallow a sip. In the meanwhile, Kakavasha soaks a small grey towel in cold water and places it on Veritas’ nape, earning a sharp inhale and a long exhale.

“That is… Aeons , that is lovely,” the doctor muses, “Thank you.”

Kakavasha smiles, pleased with the effectiveness of his solution, “Mhm, I’ve been where you are plenty of times. Hangovers humble a man…” he gazes off into the distance, the smile slowly disappearing as he recalls the awful throbbing headaches.

“I am glad you no longer consume alcohol as much as you used to. I’m… ugh…” Veritas’ throat is painfully dry, tongue sticking uncomfortably to the roof of his mouth, “I’m surprised this cold had also included the deprivation of my senses. Preposterous that such germs would dare attack me of all people,” Veritas shakes his head and leans against the washing machine.

“Veritas… you don’t have to force yourself, in this state of all things, to make me laugh by pretending to be pretentious,” Kakavasha brushes his fingers against Veritas’ cheek. The skin is somewhat rough; the man hadn’t shaved in a few days. Short indigo hairs peek through the otherwise smooth curves of cheeks. The man leans into his touch, desperately seeking comfort. “C’mon, let’s give your—“ he snickers, throwing on the accent his husband has, “— oral cavity ” earning a soft glare from the doctor, “a new taste, and perhaps a shower. How do you feel?” Kakavasha sits down on the edge of the bathtub.

“I… cannot tell. Though, I feel… awfully weak—“ Veritas quietly answers, his eyelids droopy. There’s an underlying exhaustion in his bones, inexplicable, and Veritas cannot summon enough strength to deduce the cause.

Kakavasha is already on his feet, opening the white marble cabinet and fetching the dark blue toothbrush from its cup, “Don’t overexert yourself,” he turns on the faucet, wets the brush, puts some spearmint toothpaste on it, wets it again and hands it to him, “We have floor heating for a reason, so don’t stress about me not wearing slippers.” He also takes the chance to smear some toothpaste on Veritas’ and his own philtrum, an easy solution to block out many unpleasant smells, including imaginary ones. That one, Kakavasha had figured out several years ago.

Veritas slowly brushes his teeth with hands heavy as lead. His head is a mess of half thoughts, hence he focuses on moving the toothbrush back and forth, making sure to give attention especially to his tongue. The thought of food goes through his mind—one should always work to replenish their lost strength—however, it could also upset his stomach. He decides that he will wait until morning to have a proper breakfast. Secretly, he hopes Kakavasha will make it. He is most proficient in cooking breakfast, and Veritas can’t deny that he loves his scrambled eggs, fried bread, the occasional pancakes, chocolate muffins, chocolate chip cookies, vegan bacon— and now he is salivating. Better focus on only brushing his teeth.

Meanwhile, Kakavasha unscrewed a plastic bottle with neon blue liquid inside and poured some in a tiny plastic cup. Their size reminds him of jell-o shots, or… regular shots for that matter. An echo of the old, infamous days which he certainly does not miss.

Veritas slowly gets up to his feet to wash out the toothpaste and clean the toothbrush, followed by gargling the—far too strong for anyone’s liking—mouthwash. “This is fucking disgusting,” he groans.

“Why do you think it’s full? Neither of us even uses it,” the blond man shrugs, “Do you think your energy levels are bed level or a nap in the bathtub level?”

A sparkle shines in Veritas’ dusk eyes. The idea of a bath soothes his soul—which is not a scientifically proven concept. “I doubt I’d have the energy to stay awake in it…” he turns to look at his beloved, “Would you… care to join me? I could rest on you in turn?”

Kakavasha’s face brightens up. Oh, how he loves seeing the life and light in those eyes, “I would love to.”

Using a bath bomb or something with too strong of a scent to it this late at night would simply upset the somewhat ill man even further. On the other hand, an empty bath is a sorry sight. Clear water and no bubbles? One might as well have had a shower. Thankfully, Veritas is prepared for even these types of situations. He pours a clear liquid into the warm water and moves his hand around to activate the formula. A white foam consisting of tiny, iridescent, scentless bubbles grows tremendously high in the perfectly warm tub. A shameless moan parts from his lips as he sinks in it.

“I can barely see where the water is, are you sure I won’t slip and fall?” Kakavasha carefully steps into the large bathtub.

“I will catch you if you do... But be careful,” his eyes snap open, unable to hide the obvious concern for the sudden worry his partner expressed. Strong hands grip Kakavasha’s waist and guide him down between Veritas’ legs.

Kakavasha’s brows furrow in confusion, “I thought you said you’d be leaning on me?”

“I can lean on you from the back too, my love,” his arms wrap around Kakavasha and he nuzzles his face into his neck. Veritas’ body turns heavy as he goes limp, nearly falling asleep in the warm water. Kakavasha follows suit and both end up napping for an hour. It is the semi cool water that wakes them up when the sun rises.

A, hopefully healthier, morning consists of a shared morning shower – Veritas was feeling far too clingy to do it alone.

A knock on the door interrupts their breakfast.

“Vasha, do you mind? I do not feel like dealing with humans this early,” Veritas mumbles between bites of wrapped crepes filled with pomegranate jam. The quieter catcake is purring nonstop on Veritas’ lap, while the other is flipping between the TV channels on the couch, its paws expertly navigating the remote as it searches for its preferred program.

“No problem~ Eat up,” the chair squeaks as Kakavasha pushes it aside and walks to the front door.

He stands on the tips of his toes to peek into the peep hole… It is only the mailman. “Good morning, yes?”

The man is holding an envelope in his hands and a small tablet, “Letter for Doctor and Mr. Ratio?”

“Mhm, I can take it,” Kakavasha quickly examines the letter, flipping it around in his hand. It has multiple different kinds of handwriting on it, and a small Pom-Pom sticker sticks the envelope in place. One of the catcakes nuzzles up curiously to his legs, meowing softly in an attempt to get his attention.

“Sign here, please,” the mailman extends the tablet and a silicon pen.

“Yep, there you go, thank you so much.” Kakavasha smiles.

The man nods, not in the mood for smiling, his eyes fall to the screen, checking if the signature matches, “No problem… Mr. Ratio, have a nice day.”

divider credit: @saradika-graphics

#aventio #golden ratio #aventurine x dr ratio #dr veritas ratio #kakavasha #fluff #raturine #ratiorine #hsr #honkai star rail #dr ratio #sick fic #ratiorine server spring exchange 2025

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