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intheholler · 27 days

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the appalachian murder ballad <3 one of the most interesting elements of americana and american folk, imo!

my wife recently gave me A Look when i had one playing in the car and she was like, "why do all of these old folk songs talk about killing people lmao" and i realized i wanted to Talk About It at length.

nerd shit under the cut, and it's long. y'all been warned

so, as y'all probably know, a lot of appalachian folk music grew its roots in scottish folk (and then was heavily influenced by Black folks once it arrived here, but that's a post for another time).

they existed, as most folk music does, to deliver a narrative--to pass on a story orally, especially in communities where literacy was not widespread. their whole purpose was to get the news out there about current events, and everyone loves a good murder mystery!

as an aside, i saw someone liken the murder ballad to a ye olde true crime podcast and tbh, yeah lol.

the "original" murder ballads started back across the pond as news stories printed on broadsheets and penned in such a way that it was easy to put to melody.

they were meant to be passed on and keep the people informed about the goings-on in town. i imagine that because these songs were left up to their original orators to get them going, this would be why we have sooo many variations of old folk songs.

naturally then, almost always, they were based on real events, either sung from an outside perspective, from the killer's perspective and in some cases, from the victim's. of course, like most things from days of yore, they reek of social dogshit. the particular flavor of dogshit of the OG murder ballad was misogyny.

so, the murder ballad came over when the english and scots-irish settlers did. in fact, a lot of the current murder ballads are still telling stories from centuries ago, and, as is the way of folk, getting rewritten and given new names and melodies and evolving into the modern recordings we hear today.

305 such scottish and english ballads were noted and collected into what is famously known as the Child Ballads collected by a professor named francis james child in the 19th century. they have been reshaped and covered and recorded a million and one times, as is the folk way.

while newer ones continued to largely fit the formula of retelling real events and murder trials (such as one of my favorite ones, little sadie, about a murderer getting chased through the carolinas to have justice handed down), they also evolved into sometimes fictional, (often unfortunately misogynistic) cautionary tales.

perhaps the most famous examples of these are omie wise and pretty polly where the woman's death almost feels justified as if it's her fault (big shocker).

but i digress. in this way, the evolution of the murder ballad came to serve a similar purpose as the spooky legends of appalachia did/do now.

(why do we have those urban legends and oral traditions warning yall out of the woods? to keep babies from gettin lost n dying in them. i know it's a fun tiktok trend rn to tell tale of spooky scary woods like there's really more haints out here than there are anywhere else, but that's a rant for another time too ain't it)

so, the aforementioned little sadie (also known as "bad lee brown" in some cases) was first recorded in the 1920s. i'm also plugging my favorite female-vocaist cover of it there because it's superior when a woman does it, sorry.

it is a pretty straightforward murder ballad in its content--in the original version, the guy kills a woman, a stranger or his girlfriend sometimes depending on who is covering it.

but instead of it being a cautionary 'be careful and don't get pregnant or it's your fault' tale like omie wise and pretty polly, the guy doesn't get away with it, and he's not portrayed as sympathetic like the murderer is in so many ballads.

a few decades after, women started saying fuck you and writing their own murder ballads.

in the 40s, the femme fatale trope was in full swing with women flipping the script and killing their male lovers for slights against them instead.

men began to enter the "find out" phase in these songs and paid up for being abusive partners. women regained their agency and humanity by actually giving themselves an active voice instead of just being essentially 'fridged in the ballads of old.

her majesty dolly parton even covered plenty of old ballads herself but then went on to write the bridge, telling the pregnant-woman-in-the-murder-ballad's side of things for once. love her.

as a listener, i realized that i personally prefer these modern covers of appalachian murder ballads sung by women-led acts like dolly and gillian welch and even the super-recent crooked still especially, because there is a sense of reclamation, subverting its roots by giving it a woman's voice instead.

meaning that, like a lot else from the problematic past, the appalachian murder ballad is something to be enjoyed with critical ears. violence against women is an evergreen issue, of course, and you're going to encounter a lot of that in this branch of historical music.

but with folk songs, and especially the murder ballad, being such a foundational element of appalachian history and culture and fitting squarely into the appalachian gothic, i still find them important and so, so interesting

i do feel it's worth mentioning that there are "tamer" ones. with traditional and modern murder ballads alike, some of them are just for "fun," like a murder mystery novel is enjoyable to read; not all have a message or retell a historical trial.

(for instance, i'd even argue ultra-modern, popular americana songs like hell's comin' with me is a contemporary americana murder ballad--being sung by a male vocalist and having evolved from being at the expense of a woman to instead being directed at a harmful and corrupt church. that kind of thing)

in short: it continues to evolve, and i continue to eat that shit up.

anyway, to leave off, lemme share with yall my personal favorite murder ballad which fits squarely into murder mystery/horror novel territory imo.

it's the 10th child ballad and was originally known as "the twa sisters." it's been covered to hell n back and named and renamed.

but! if you listen to any flavor of americana, chances are high you already know it; popular names are "the dreadful wind and rain" and sometimes just "wind and rain."

in it, a jealous older sister pushes her other sister into a river (or stream, or sea, depending on who's covering it) over a dumbass man. the little sister's body floats away and a fiddle maker come upon her and took parts of her body to make a fiddle of his own. the only song the new fiddle plays is the tale about how it came to be, and it is the same song you have been listening to until then.

how's that for genuinely spooky-scary appalachia, y'all?

#appalachia #appalachian murder ballads #murder ballads #appalachian music #appalachian culture #appalachian history #appalachian #appalachian folklore #appalachian gothic #tw violence against women #cw violence against women #cw murder #tw murder #folk music #folk #txt

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telomeke · 6 months

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THE SIGN – CULTURAL REFERENCES, MYTHOLOGY AND META

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This post comes on the heels of the one by @respectthepetty about mythology and meta of The Sign, linked here. 😍👍 If you've not read it yet, I recommend you do before watching any more of this series, because it will help things make more sense (especially if you're not familiar with some of the cultural references thrumming in the background).

Anyway, I'd previously done some research on the legend(s) of the Garuda and the Naga in Southeast Asia, and so I'm writing this post to share what I've found because it does have relevance to at least some of what we're seeing onscreen in The Sign, and elaborates on @respectthepetty's post.

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The Garuda and the Naga are mythical beings with origins in Indian mythology that have been transposed into cultures across Southeast Asia.

In Hinduism, Garuda is a single deity, depicted in either full-bird form or part-bird and part-human, and is the king of birds and also a divine sun-bird (with physical attributes similar to an eagle's). His elder brother, Aruna, is the chariot driver for Surya the sun-god, while Garuda himself is the mount of Vishnu.

In Buddhist mythology, the garudas (sometimes also spelt garulas) are a society and race of gigantic predatory birds, sometimes also depicted as part-human in form. The garudas are intelligent, social and blessed with might and magical powers.

Thailand may be predominantly Buddhist, but it has also been strongly influenced by ancient Indian culture and Hinduism, and thus both the concept of a single deity Garuda and the race of garudas co-exist in Thai mythological beliefs.

The nagas on the other hand, are snake-like or dragon-like creatures, whose realm is the water world. (The word naga is derived from Sanskrit and is also etymologically related to the English word snake.)

In mythology nagas and garudas are perpetual enemies, although neither side is actually identified with good or evil – they are simply two groups eternally at war with each other (so occidental-leaning minds should dispel any preconception that the water serpents are necessarily the bad guys in The Sign, even though the narrative seems to be tilting in that direction).

When borrowed into popular culture (as has been done for The Sign) you may sometimes see influences of Chinese dragon and phoenix mythology (as Chinese cultural influence is also present in Thailand, and the dragon/phoenix motif of Sinitic culture nicely parallels the naga/garuda conflict pairing). And because of Garuda's association with the sun in Hinduism, and a parallel with the fiery phoenix of Western mythology, you may sometimes see garudas portrayed as aligned with the sun and/or flame as well.

There are some hints of these in The Sign. The naga that Phaya encounters while struggling underwater during the open sea training challenge in Ep.1 is very Thai in appearance (especially with the curved, forward-pointing crest, making it look much like the nagas that adorn Thai temple architecture). But the array of pronged, backward-pointing horns and trailing antennae appear to be a design nod at Chinese or Japanese dragons (East Asian dragons are also strongly identified with the watery realm, by the way). And in the graphics of the series (e.g., in the poster at the start of this post), the sky (the realm of Garuda) is suffused with sunlight and speckled with what look like drifting sparks, referencing sun and flame.

Because of the wings tattooed on his back and his time in the air force, Phaya is most likely the reincarnation of a garuda in human form (and this is why he struggled with the water challenge, as he was completely out of his element).

This is also possibly why we see him smoking early on in the series (because of the alignment of Garuda with the element of fire), and significantly he does this while Naga Tharn (irked by Yai's teasing at the dining table) seeks refuge in the washroom (which is ห้องน้ำ/hong naam in Thai, literally water room):

‌Billy also describes Phaya's character in the promo video for the series (linked here) as being "like fire, always hot and burning... quite hot-headed." 👍

Elsewhere in the same promo video (linked here), Tharn's good friend Chalothon is explicitly identified as the reincarnation of an important naga, which immediately signals that he and Phaya will be at odds in the series:

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The water deity that saves Phaya during the open sea challenge – Wansarat, whom he drew in his sketchbook – is not just Freen Sarocha in a fancy scuba suit. 😂

If you look at her arm and hand when she reaches out to save Phaya (before she turns into Tharn) the green scales meld into the skin of her human wrist – they're part of her natural covering, and she's really a nakhee/nagin/nagini, a female naga, appearing in human form to save Phaya.

The narrative has made it strongly obvious that Phaya is a reincarnated garuda, while Tharn is the reincarnation of Wansarat, from the lineage of the nagas. And the teaser-trailer (linked here) tells us that Phaya and Tharn/Wansarat are lovers bound to each other through time:

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However, the special promo video (released 24 November 2023) also tells us (in Heng's interview linked here) that Chalothon and Wansarat were lovers in past lives, even while it is Phaya and Wansarat (reincarnated as Tharn) who are paired by fate in The Sign.

And as the nagas and garudas are bitter enemies, the love story between Phaya and Tharn/Wansarat that transcends time and reincarnation cycles is also one that must have been (and will continue to be) forbidden by their respective naga and garuda tribes (especially since Tharn/Wansarat also used to be naga Chalothon's lover), and will undoubtedly be a source of conflict in the series. This is way beyond the Montagues and Capulets! 😍

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So with this as the base, I took a look at the characters' names, and those belonging to Phaya, Chalothon, Tharn and Wansarat especially also reflect their garuda/naga origins. 🤩

Phaya's name (พญา) means lord, king or leader. While it can be applied to the nagas (พญานาค/phaya naak refers to the King of the Nagas) it is also used for Garuda (the Thai national symbol) – พญาครุฑ/phaya khroot, or Lord Garuda (and is what his name references in The Sign).

(above) Billy Patchanon as Phaya

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Chalothon's name (ชโลทร) is rare, but it is derived from Pali/Sanskrit and means river, sea or body of water, reflecting the watery homeland of his naga persona.

(above) Heng Asavarid as Chalothon

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Tharn's name (ธาร) also has a connection to his water-dwelling naga roots. Tharn/ธาร is short for ลำธาร/lam thaan and means stream, brook or creek (and he is thus a naga nong to Chalothon's phi).

(above) Babe Tanatat as Tharn/Wansa

However, Tharn is his chue len. His formal name is Wansa, and is the same Wansa in Wansarat (which the narrative lets us know at Ep.1 [3‌/4] 9.35).

(above) Freen Sarocha as Wansarat

Now Wansarat is spelt วรรณษารัตน์ in the subtitles (at Ep.1 [3‌/4] 9.02), and I can't find any translation of it that makes sense in the context of The Sign's world-building.

But Wansarat's name is spelt differently elsewhere on the Internet (on Thai drama websites, and movie databases, etc. like thaimovie.org), and I assume they've all based it on official releases from Idol Factory because the spelling is consistent across these other sources – it's วรรษารัตน์ there.

And Wansa/Wansarat spelt this way also reflects the nagas' dominion over water, because วรรษา/wansa (an archaic word, referenced in an older dictionary but not newer ones) means rain or rainy season (from the Sanskrit varsha) – in Thailand the nagas are also associated with rain control, and prayers are offered to them for timely and abundant rainfall when it is needed. (The -rat part of Wansarat is a feminine ending meaning jewel or gemstone, and may echo with meaning for speakers of Indian and Sri Lankan languages, since it's derived from the Pali/Sanskrit ratna).

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Just out of interest (because nobody asked 😂) some of these naga/garuda elements were also present in the early episodes of KinnPorsche – the den of the Theerapanyakuls (nagas, wealthy beings of the underworld) was full of watery elements (e.g., the waterfall, the various pools, and Tankhun's carp – which in Chinese belief are the original, natal form of dragons). The -nak in Kinn's formal first name Anakin (which is not a traditional Thai name) is also a nod at the word naga. Porsche had the tattoo of a fiery phoenix on his back, and was out of his element whenever water was concerned (e.g., his failed pool challenge, the mermaid costume punishment, his misadventure with the sprinkler when he tried to smoke in the store room – water vanquishing the flame). Kinn was unable to make fire when they were trapped in the forest, despite claiming to be friends with the flame, while Porsche could immediately do it.

But I didn't see the KinnPorsche narrative taking the naga/garuda themes much further than these random nods in the earlier episodes. Maybe it did (like Kinn and Porsche could be seen acclimatizing to each other's realms more), but I just couldn't be bothered to look at the show more closely since it didn't really stand up to deeper scrutiny, and after the first few episodes I just went along for the exhilaration of the ride instead. 👍

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Anyway, I'm totally bedazzled by the level of world-building going on in The Sign and look forward to more from the series. If the first episode is anything to go by, I think Executive Producer Saint Suppapong may be on to something! 😍

#the sign #the sign the series #mythology #naga #garuda #naga and garuda #thai mythology #thai bl #phayatharn

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inhuman-obey-me · 9 months

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Human Nature

Word Count: 1330 Description: A sudden discussion about how humans blame demons for all their problems comes up one evening in the House of Lamentation. Turns out, demons don't like to be blamed for human nature. Characters, etc: Satan, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, MC -- with a little Asmo/MC at the end can be found on ao3 here

“What is it with you humans?”

You look up from your D.D.D. with a quirked brow, turning to Satan who seems to be wearing an expression of exasperation – at least, from what you can see while his nose is buried between pages of whatever it is he’s reading.

“What are you talking about?”

The demon slowly lowers the novel, now looking rather sheepish. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean that in relation to you, it’s just,” He gestures to the viridian book in his grasp, “I get so tired of reading stories where humans blame demons for all of their problems.”

“Oh, don’t get me started!” Mammon butts in, still laying upside-down on one of the other sofas in the common room as he scrolls mindlessly through Akuzon on his phone, sunglasses nearly falling off his head to the floor. “Forget just humans in stories, they do that shit all the time in real-life, too!”

“Mammon, you probably have caused plenty of problems for humans.” Leviathan doesn’t even look up from his game, his fingers furiously pressing and pushing buttons with a loud click-clack-click that’s slightly maddening.

“And ya haven’t?!” The second-born nearly tosses his phone as he twists to point an accusing finger at the other. “As if ya don’t get all smug about your name bein’ all over the damn place!”

“H-Hey, it’s not my fault people are into sea monsters – oh come on!” The melody for GAME OVER. “B-but even with a good-for-nothing demon like me, humans like to create all kinds of stories and legends.”

Shifting in your seat, you look around the room in amusement. “I mean, the stories had to come from somewhere, right? A sliver of truth in every lie, and all that.”

“Sure, some of the stories have merit. Demons have influenced plenty of people, us included.” Satan shakes his head, placing the book to the side as he straightens up in his seat. “But there are humans who think any and all terrible things done by their own kind are somehow our fault.”

“Right, like I’m not responsible for every greedy human who screws others over.” Mammon shoots the third-born a glare to stop him from interrupting. “But then ya got some humans going on about bein’ influenced by the devil, or demonic possession.”

“Aww, I haven’t done a possession in so long!” Asmodeus enters the room with a rather woeful expression, dropping a shopping bag onto a table before twirling around, a gleeful grin replacing his pout. “Now, what fascinating discussion are we all having here, hm?”

“About how some humans blame demons for everything bad that happens.” You answer, resting a hand in your chin as you look at the Avatar of Lust with curiosity. “What are your feelings on that, Asmo?”

“My feelings?” He places a hand on his chest, fingers splayed over his heart as a shadow of ire falls on his features. “Ugh, I’d say that humans are totally full of themselves!”

“That’s rich coming from you, Asmo.” Satan rolls his eyes, earning an offended gasp from the fifth-born.

“But it’s natural for me, I mean who wouldn’t be if they had a chance to be me?” Asmodeus perches on the armrest of one of the sofas, one leg crossed over the other. “It’s true, though. I mean, I love playing games with some humans and all, but so much of that is in the past!”

“Asmo, you still try to pull things all the time.” Leviathan huffs, ignoring his younger brother’s sharp look. “You probably aren’t helping.”

“Excuse me, I don’t want to hear that from you, Levi. You’re the one who summons Lotan at the drop of a hat!” Asmodeus waves off the other’s protest, turning to look at you – you, who have just been sitting back and enjoying the conversation unfolding. “Us demons like to feed off all the negative energy that humans can produce, but that’s the thing – a lot of it comes from humans themselves!”

Satan hums in agreement, also fixing his gaze on you now. “For example, we all in this room can sense if you’re feeling a really strong urge in our particular sin and even contribute to it, but we’re the Avatars, and we have pacts. Your average demon out there can tempt all they want, but temptation works best on humans that already have a proclivity to the sin or act in question.”

“And a lot of the lil’ guys you see here, those real low-level demons? They’re manifestations of humans’ sins and negative energy. Meanin’ humans technically made ‘em!” Mammon is sitting up now, adjusting the sunglasses on his head as he leans on one knee. “So really, humans are to blame for those annoyin’ pests.”

“I’m not arguing that.” You nod, remembering learning some of this in classes at RAD. “Well, I’m not really arguing anything, but I didn’t realize you all felt so strongly about this.”

“Don’t get us wrong, we’re used to it. I mean, we’re demons, we have a reputation for a reason.” Leviathan shrugs, his focus going back to his console. “It’s more like a pet peeve.”

“Just like how humans think angels are all innocent and good.” Satan’s words get a round of snickers from the room. “If a human really wants to blame everything bad on us, so be it. But then they only have themselves to blame if we lean into it.”

It’s then that you remember hearing a story about Satan – a time where some human parents got angry and accused him of scaring their child, even though all he had done was return the child’s smile with his own. He ended up traumatizing the humans with his own anger, having them crying and begging on the floor for forgiveness, much to his delight.

You wonder, had those humans even believed in demons before then?

What of your own wrath? Your envy? Your greed? All of those feelings existed in you long before you came to the Devildom, and there were plenty of times you acted on them both then and now. Has it gotten worse since you’ve been here? It was hard to tell, though you did know the brothers’ got rather pleased when you did find yourself having a burst of pride, of desire. Who was feeding off of who?

“I guess,” you muse aloud, “we’re all connected a lot more than we realize.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Satan hummed. “We just like to give humans a little push, now and then. Give them a taste of freedom, of what they want. After that, it’s really up to them what they do. If they choose the path that benefits us, well, we can’t complain.”

“Oh, what humans will do to get what they desire!” Asmodeus dramatically leans off of his perch, putting an arm around your shoulder. He gives you a rather mischievous look, lips curled into a smirk as he turns your chin towards him. “So, tell me, hon – can I tempt you into anything tonight?”

“Get your damn claws off them, Asmo!” Before you can answer, Mammon is already up on his feet and growling at the sight. “You really think you can pull that with all of us here?”

“Y-yeah, you can’t even charm them!” Leviathan voices his envy. “PDA Police!! Stop touching them!”

As the room erupts into familiar and frustrating arguments, you can’t help but feel some mischief swell in your chest – so you raise your voice.

“Why, yes, Asmo. You can tempt me to something tonight. Shall we?”

The brothers fall silent, even Asmodeus staring at you for a moment before his lips split into a fanged grin. “We most certainly shall!”

With a laugh, you find yourself running out of the room hand-in-hand with Asmodeus while the other three yell behind you.

“You little devil,” Asmodeus snickers as he pulls you along, throwing a glance your way.

With a grin, you respond:

“I’m only human.”

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writingforatwistedworld · 1 year

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Maybe can I request with Vil, Ace and Silver in self aware au ?

The reader is stressed after a day of work/school and while playing they just stare at them in silence until they start caressing or touching their faces just to say that "Your pretty face is all that is good in my life" or something like that. Oh, I hope you understand 😣

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, violence, death, poison

Ace Trappola/Vil Schoenheit/Silver-“Your pretty face really cheers me up!”

Ace isn’t exactly known for “pretty boy” esthetics. Heck, he doesn’t even care that much about his appearance and all that he wants is to look decent

But then there is you, Overseer extravagance, the uncrowned ruler of the Queendom, the God of Briar Valley and the Island of Woes, a freaking legend wherever you go

And apparently, you like pretty faces but ok, who does not have a weakness or two

But Ace didn’t exactly count himself as “sparkle face with silky skin” or something along those lines

Then one day, ONE DAY, “I paint a heart on my face every day” guy over here was getting ready to go to his lessons, you having decided that apparently he needed more flying lessons

And even his house warden who was present at the scene would look like he was about to collapse any second after witnessing what was about to happen

Here he was, sitting on his broom, flying in mid-air up in the sky, suppressing screeches of horror

And then you had to drop that one line

“Your pretty face really cheers me up!”

Guess what else was dropping? Oh yeah, a first-year heartslabyul student

This simple sentence was too much for his body, making him drop off of his broom

But no need to worry, Vargas got him, levitation magic is a neat thing. Didn’t mean it would levitate his failing grades up into better places though…

If Ace had social media he would now surpass Vil, news travel fast you know?

And if the Overseer, I don’t think you know what kind of influence you have, THE OVERSEER said that someone was pretty then oh boy, you better believe they are!

And whilst we are on the subject of beauty, Vil is going absolutely bananas somewhere in the background, screaming “HOW??!” and other not-so-beautiful things

Ace though? Just pure shock. From that day on he is painting that heart extra carefully

And if someone just slightly smudges the heart? Well, I hope they have someone to help them adjust because they won’t leave the hospital for a long time. They and their crushed spine.

Vil is used to compliments about his apperance. I mean, come on, he has five million followers

So a compliment is usually met with a simple “thank you” and then he moves on with his day

Here we are, a normal day for Vil, sitting in his room, taking off the make-up to get to sleep

And then he feels your presence

Really bad timing. REALLY bad timing!

So whilst he sitts there like he just turned into a stone statue, a very beautiful stone statue, you just go along with your day, assigning students to go to lessons, yada yada

And then your gaze falls on him (aka your home screen). The statue stopped breathing

This is it. Now he has done it. He has shown him to you whilst he was at his most disgraceful

And whilst Vil is already crying in his head you are still staring at him

“Your pretty face really cheers me up!” And then you carass his face

This… this can not be real, right?

There is no way you complimented him whilst he is like this

But alas Vil finally gets that you geniunely mean your compliment

Sadly there was no one to witness it but boy, Vil is happy

Now whenever Vil looks in the mirror he is proud that you think he is beautiful and imagines what he would do to the wretched rats who dare and try to steal your attention from him

Rook even commented the next day that his skin seemed to glow brighter than usual, Vil during all of that not able to stop smiling

Does that mean he will take it easier now? No. After all, he can’t loose his “Oh he pwetty” status

And if he does… well, there are a lot of poisons he can make and don’t forget his special magic…

Silver, good old Silver being himself and accedentaly sleeping the day away

Now saying that the poeple of the Valley of Thorns are a bit too interested in you is a understatement

And who could blame them? You are their God (I blame them. In fact, I blame them a lot)

So here he is, laying on the grass, dreaming of spending a day with you…

And everything is good and dandy and fine and you opened the app

Silver is not a fae so he doesn’t have that sixth sense that tingles whenever you are even glancing at the app but he had been trained to be cautious

And cautious he is, waking up the second he feels your gaze on himself

So you are back. Good to see you! He hopes you have a- why are you touching his face?

“Your pretty face really cheers me up!”

The rest of the day Silver is in a daze and only after his father, pardon me, vice house warden Lilia asks him what is wrong Silver finally snaps out of it

“They called me pretty…” “Who called you pretty?” “The Overseer.” “Ah, I see… WAIT WHAT??!”

Yeah, Silver is just happy

He even uses skin care products after that day

But if someone would dare to take away his special status, being called pretty, away from him then good luck

All I can say is that he knows how to use a sword… and he probably knows how to get rid of a body

Just don’t leave him and Vil alone in a room, ok? Otherwise one will be poisoned and the other might be a bit scratched up

“Your pretty face really cheers me up!”

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circeius-invidioso · 2 months

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I do not get why the Red Corsairs are not a popular choice.

Like.

Like here is the elevator pitch for the warband and then we can come to some justified conclusion.

What isn't there to love?

You want me to turn into an infomencial and make a top 3 reasons why the Red Corsairs are great?

Cause I can.

And I will.

The Diverse Working Enviroment

Here in the Red Corsairs we might have started as Ultramarines but the barrier for entry is on the floor. So anyone can join.

You are Night Lord with a bad rep and no ship.

Buckle up we got you covered.

You are a Fallen and have 20 Dark Angels all up in yo business? Trying to shoot down the boss babe you are?

Fear not, or in our case. Know no Fear. We are strapped and don't get clapped.

You are a traitor that likes their Legion but sadly you got in our way?

Tough luck buddy, you will join or die and your geene seed will join our cause. Nothing personal battle brother. Just business as usual.

Everyone is welcome as long as they follow Huron's guidelines and don't aggitate the topless sweaty Khorne worshipping Ultramarines in the basement.

Sustainability

Unlike the corrupt Imperium of man and the corpse Emperor our leader is powered by miracles (which is trully a miracle how he survived but that on the next section), and we use 0 psyckers to power our crap.

Our carbon footprint is also minimum as we use salvaged goods and don't indulge in toxic industries that destroy worlds.

The Red Corsair base of operation is in the Eye of Terror and from there we expand our scope. A place greatly known for its constant shifts, and horrible conditions but the tan our serfs have are spectacullar from all that cosmic radiation.

Finally we are commited to recycling. As in we take from our victims benefactors and put those stolen goods to some great use. Nothing goes to waste, neither mortal, nor static object. If something is not nailed on the floor we will take it.

In fact we might take the floor too and the nails used to set it in place.

Nothing goes to waste!

Unmatched Leadership

Last, but certainly not least.

The man.

The myth.

The Legend.

Huron Blackheart.

Aka Lufgt Huron.

Aka what would happen if we gave a compressed Guilliman a daemonic familiar and left him to ferment in a warp storm.

Not only the name is so edgy you might cut yourself by saying it out loud. But also it's complex enough that if you say it quickly three times without twisting your tongue theres is a chance furniture might start levitating.

The man has put his Ultramarine brain to use and amased enough influence and power to put the Black Legion to shame.

Huron went from 0 to 100 in no time, he is a self made Warmaster. With no daddy issues or troubles in the world, he goes into battle blasting Alestorm in the voxxcasters.

He does not care.

He probably wears this when he wants to relax.

You think he cares?

He does not care.

He has a biker gang specifically organized to hunt down those who have betrayed him.

They slap those things on their armors not for the usual biker reason

(which fun fact the meaning is, 99% of the bikers are law-abiding, where the 1% are not. That's where the 1% comes from. The more you know 🌈)

no they wear that 1% because that's how high are your chances of escaping from them are.

Is that a bit extreme?

Yes.

You think he cares?

He does not care.

The dude once gathered his buddies and decided...

to you know. Have a casual outing. Nothing too serious, it was a sunday afteral.

So they decided on.

Kidnapping Guilliman.

Which they almost did if not for a Fallen of all people getting in the way.

But still.

The mad lad took Macragge's Honour and went on a joyride/ mini civil war.

Who in the galaxy can turn and say.

Yeah, I stole Macragge's Honour, almost captured my old Primarch. Told a daemon prince they are irrelevant on my way there. Anyway after crushing a fool who thought he could take my crown as king of the space pirates, I went to the home planet of the White Scars and kidnapped and tortured their Chapter Master. What did you do this week? 💅

Who wouldn't want to be a part of that?

You tell me I can be an immortal, gorgeous chaos Ultramarine goth boy going on pirate adventures across the galaxy?

Where do I sign up?

I don't need ink for a signature.

I will use my own blood.

#warhammer #warhammer 40000 #warhammer 40k #wh40k #shitpost #red corsairs #chaos ultramarines #chaos space marines #games workshop #black library #huron is the chaos ultramarines representation we deserve

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correlance · 3 months

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Paradise Lost: How John Milton's 1667 work influenced "Hazbin Hotel"

I've been thinking about why the "fruit of knowledge" in Hazbin Hotel is depicted as an apple, as opposed to another fruit that would've been more accurate to the Middle East during the Fall of Man, as well as how Paradise Lost by John Milton (1667) influenced the show.

Per one source:

"Because the Hebrew Bible describes the forbidden fruit only as 'peri', the term for general fruit, no one knows [what exactly type of fruit it was]. It could be a fruit that doesn't exist anymore. Historians have speculated it may have been any one of these fruits: pomegranate, mango, fig, grapes, etrog or citron, carob, pear, quince, or mushroom."

Per Wikipedia:

"The pseudepigraphic Book of Enoch describes the tree of knowledge: 'It was like a species of the Tamarind tree, bearing fruit which resembled grapes extremely fine; and its fragrance extended to a considerable distance. I exclaimed, How beautiful is this tree, and how delightful is its appearance!' (1 Enoch 31:4)."

In Jewish and Islamic traditions, the "fruit of knowledge" is commonly identified with grapes. The Zohar explains that Noah attempted (but failed) to rectify the sin of Adam by using grape wine for holy purposes. Today, the "Noah grape" is still used to make white wine.

Furthermore:

"The association of the pomegranate with knowledge of the underworld as provided in the Ancient Greek legend of Hades and Persephone may also have given rise to an association with knowledge of the 'otherworld', tying-in with knowledge that is forbidden to mortals. It is also believed Hades offered Persephone a pomegranate to force her to stay with him in the underworld for 6 months of the year. Hades is the Greek god of the underworld, and the Bible states that whoever eats the forbidden fruit shall die."

So, how then did the apple become the foremost symbol of the "fruit of knowledge"? You can partly thank Paradise Lost by English poet John Milton, a work which the lore of Hazbin Hotel is based off of.

Milton published the book in 1667, a time when the hedonistic Restoration era was in full swing. The exiled King Charles II was restored to the throne as King of England in 1660, and was a party animal, with dozens of mistresses, and nicknamed both the "playboy prince" and "Old Rowley", the latter after his favorite lustful stallion.

However, the association of the "fruit of knowledge" began with a Latin pun long before Milton immortalized the association in Paradise Lost. Per the linked article above by Nina Martyris for NPR:

"In order to explain, we have to go all the way back to the fourth century A.D., when Pope Damasus ordered his leading scholar of scripture, Jerome, to translate the Hebrew Bible into Latin. Jerome's path-breaking, 15-year project, which resulted in the canonical 'Vulgate', used the Latin spoken by the common man. As it turned out, the Latin words for evil and apple are the same: 'malus'.

[...] When Jerome was translating the 'Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil', the word 'malus' snaked in. A brilliant but controversial theologian, Jerome was known for his hot temper, but he obviously also had a rather cool sense of humor.

'Jerome had several options,' says Robert Appelbaum, a professor of English literature at Sweden's Uppsala University. 'But he hit upon the idea of translating 'peri' as 'malus', which in Latin has two very different meanings. As an adjective, 'malus' means 'bad' or 'evil'. As a noun it seems to mean an apple, in our own sense of the word, coming from the very common tree now known officially as the 'Malus pumila'. So Jerome came up with a very good pun.'

The story doesn't end there. 'To complicate things even more,' says Appelbaum, 'the word 'malus' in Jerome's time, and for a long time after, could refer to any fleshy seed-bearing fruit. A pear was a kind of 'malus'. So was the fig, the peach, and so forth.'

Which explains why Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel fresco features a serpent coiled around a fig tree. But the apple began to dominate Fall artworks in Europe after the German artist Albrecht Dürer's famous 1504 engraving depicted the First Couple counterpoised beside an apple tree. It became a template for future artists such as Lucas Cranach the Elder, whose luminous Adam and Eve painting is hung with apples that glow like rubies.

Milton, then, was only following cultural tradition. But he was a renowned Cambridge intellectual fluent in Latin, Greek and Hebrew, who served as secretary for foreign tongues to Oliver Cromwell during the Commonwealth. If anyone was aware of the 'malus' pun, it would be him, and yet he chose to run it with it. Why?

Appelbaum says that Milton's use of the term 'apple' was ambiguous. 'Even in Milton's time the word had two meanings: either what was our common apple, or, again, any fleshy seed-bearing fruit. Milton probably had in mind an ambiguously named object with a variety of connotations as well as denotations, most but not all of them associating the idea of the apple with a kind of innocence, though also with a kind of intoxication, since hard apple cider was a common English drink.'

It was only later readers of Milton, says Appelbaum, who thought of 'apple' as 'apple', and not any seed-bearing fruit. For them, the forbidden fruit became synonymous with the 'malus pumila'. As a widely read canonical work, 'Paradise Lost' was influential in cementing the role of apple in the Fall of Man story."

To tie this back into John Milton's relationship with King Charles II of England, as mentioned, Milton originally served Oliver Cromwell, Lord Protector of England, and the English Commonwealth, which was formed with the overthrow and execution of King Charles I on 30 January 1649, following the bloody English Civil War (1642 – 1651).

The King's two sons - the newly-christened King Charles II, the elder, and James, Duke of York (King James II), the younger - fled into exile on the European continent. However, with the death of Oliver Cromwell on 3 September 1658 came the 2-year-long dissolution of the English Commonwealth, and the restoration of the monarchy.

As for Milton himself, we can look to an article by Bill Potter.

Milton, born on 9 December 1608, was around 51-52 years old when King Charles II was restored to the throne. He attended Christ's Church, Cambridge in his youth, and mastered at least six languages, as well as history and philosophy; making him, perhaps, the most knowledgeable poet in history. He spent more than a year travelling across Europe, conversing with and learning from intellectuals, linguists, poets, and artists, including the famous Galileo Galilei.

However, Milton was a controversial figure of his time, being unafraid to criticize institutions of authority; arguing that "divorce was Biblical", for which he was routinely condemned; joining the Puritans; penning the Areopagitica, a treatise on liberty in favor of Parliament and the Roundhead rebels, during the reign of King Charles I, arguing that the King must be held accountable by the people; and agreed with and justified the murder of King Charles I, for which Parliament hired him in 1649 as a propagandist and correspondence secretary to foreign powers, on account of his fiery manifestos against "the man".

The collapse of the Commonwealth with the death of Oliver Cromwell in 1658 did not deter Milton from continued political writing against the monarchy and the new public sentiment that brought about its Restoration under King Charles II in 1660. On the contrary, Milton - now totally blind, having lost his eyesight by the age of 44 in 1652, a decade earlier - began writing Paradise Lost in 1661, and spent the next six years dictating the work to transcribers.

A supporter of regicide, Milton was also forced into exile himself, and faked his own death, as Charles refused to pardon - and sought to execute - any of those directly involved with his father's murder. Milton's friends held a mock funeral for Milton on 27 August 1660, just months after the coronation of King Charles II on 23 April 1660.

King Charles II commented that he "applauded his [Milton's] policy in escaping the punishment of death [execution for treason] by a reasonable show of dying", but insisted on a public spectacle nonetheless by having Milton's writings burned by the public hangman.

After eventually obtaining a general pardon from King Charles II, Milton was imprisoned, and released, likely due to political friends in high places. He died, aged 64, in 1674. His theological views were sometimes considered heterodox by the best Puritans, and his political views came close to getting him executed on several occasions. His poetry, however, has endured as some of the greatest works in the English language, especially Paradise Lost; much of his greatest work was written during his 22 years of complete blindness.

One of the main factors in King Charles II deciding to grant a pardon to Milton was, ironically, Paradise Lost. While originally written by Milton as a scathing criticism of King Charles II and the monarchy - depicting Lucifer Morningstar as a sympathetic rebel against God, with King Charles II claiming that is right to rule came from "divine ordainment" - Charles II enjoyed the work, and authorized its publication on 20 August 1667. We know this because a 1668 copy of Paradise Lost in royal bindings by Samuel Mearne, bound lovingly in a fine red leather made of goat skins tanned with sumac, and stamped in gold with the royal cypher of King Charles II, was found. The endpapers bore a watermark with the royal arms of Charles II.

Per one Miltonian scholar: "The most single important event in Milton's life was the event against which he struggled most: the Restoration of Charles II, [and his relationship with the King]. Had it not come, we might have never had Paradise Lost...certainly, we should never have had [it] in [its] present power and significance."

Milton followed up Paradise Lost with Paradise Regained in 1671, three years before his death, with advice for King Charles II, urging the hedonistic Charles to "reign over himself and his passions":

"For therein stands the office of a King, His Honour, Vertue, Merit and chief Praise, That for the Publick all this weight he bears. Yet he who reigns within himself, and rules Passions, Desires, and Fears, is more a King; Which every wise and vertuous man attains: And who attains not, ill aspires to rule Cities of men, or head-strong Multitudes, Subject himself to Anarchy within, Or lawless passions in him which he serves." - John Milton, Paradise Regained, Book II, lines 463-472

To summarize: "If we must have a King back again, my Lord, please try to be a good man, unlike your father, who fell to his pride, [which was also the downfall of Lucifer]."

To quote another source: "Though the passage begins by noting that the office of a King is to bear the weight of public concerns, it is the control of one's private concerns that truly set a King apart as a virtuous character. Indeed, so important is self-command that any wise or virtuous man who attains it is like a king; any king who does not practice [self-command] is nothing more than a mere subject, ruled by anarchy and lawlessness."

Milton's words, too, echo a work written by Charles' grandfather, King James VI/I of Scotland and England: Basilikon Doron ("Royal Gift").

Per Wikipedia:

"'Basilikon Doron' (Βασιλικὸν Δῶρον) means 'royal gift' in Ancient Greek, and was written in the form of a private letter to James' eldest son, Henry, Duke of Rothesay (1594–1612). After Henry's death, James gave it to his second son, Charles, born 1600, later King Charles I. Seven copies were printed in Edinburgh in 1599, and it was republished in London in 1603, when it sold in the thousands.

This document is separated into three books, serving as general guidelines to follow to be an efficient monarch. The first describes a king's duty towards God as a Christian. The second focuses on the roles and responsibilities in office. The third concerns proper behaviour in daily life.

As the first part is concerned with being a good Christian, James instructed his son to love and respect God as well as to fear Him. Furthermore, it is essential to carefully study the Scripture (the Bible) and especially specific books in both the Old and New Testaments. Lastly, he must pray often and always be thankful for what God has given him.

In the second book, James encouraged his son to be a good king, as opposed to a tyrant, by establishing and executing laws as well as governing with justice and equality, such as by boosting the economy. The final portion of the Basilikon Doron focuses on the daily life of a monarch.

All of these guidelines composed an underlying code of conduct to be followed by all monarchs and heads of state to rule and govern efficiently. James assembled these directions as a result of his own experience and upbringing. He, therefore, offered the 'Basilikon Doron' ('Royal Gift') to his son, with the hope of rendering him a capable ruler, and perhaps to pass it down to future generations.

Overall, it repeats the argument for the divine right of kings, as set out in 'The True Law of Free Monarchies', which was also written by James. It warns against 'Papists' (Roman Catholics) and derides Puritans, in keeping with his philosophy of following a 'middle path', which is also reflected in the preface to the 1611 King James Bible. It also advocates removing the Apocrypha from the Bible."

King James VI/I further instructed his son and grandson:

"A good monarch must be well acquainted with his subjects, and so it would be wise to visit each of the kingdoms every three years."

"During war or armed conflict, he should choose old-but-good captains to lead an army of young and agile soldiers."

"In the court and the household, [a royal] should carefully select loyal gentlemen and servants to surround him. When the time came to choose a wife, it would be best if she were of the same religion and had a generous estate. However, she must not meddle with governmental politics, but perform her domestic duties."

"As for inheritance, to ensure stability, the kingdom should be left to the eldest son, not divided among all children."

"Lastly, it is most important...that [a royal] would know well his own craft...to properly govern over his subjects. To do so, [one] must study the laws of the kingdom, and actively participate in the council. Furthermore, [one] must be acquainted with mathematics for military purposes, and world history for foreign policy."

"[A royal] must also not drink and sleep excessively. His wardrobe should always be clean and proper, and he must never let his hair and nails grow long. In his writing and speech, he should use honest and plain language."

King James VI/I further supplemented Basilikon Doron with a written treatise titled The True Law of Free Monarchies: Or, The Reciprocal and Mutual Duty Between a Free King and His Natural Subjects.

"It is believed King James VI/I wrote the tract to set forth his idea of absolutist monarchism in clear contrast to the contractarian views espoused by, among others, James' tutor George Buchanan (in 'De Jure Regni apud Scotos'), [which] held the idea that monarchs rule in accordance of some sort of social contract with their people. James saw the divine right of kings as an extension of the apostolic succession, as both not being subjected by humanly laws."

Milton's own Areopagitica was a follow-up on De Jure Regni apid Scotos by George Buchanan, and also to The True Law of Free Monarchies, as well as the idea of the "divine right of kings". It takes its title in part from Areopagitikos (Greek: Ἀρεοπαγιτικός), a speech written by Athenian orator Isocrates in the 4th century BC.

Most importantly, Milton also wrote on the concept of free will: "Milton's ideas were ahead of his time in the sense that he anticipated the arguments of later advocates of freedom of the press by relating the concept of free will, and choice to individual expression and right."

The concept of free will, too, was a major topic explored in Paradise Lost. Per one source: "In 'Paradise Lost', Milton argues that though God foresaw the Fall of Man, he still didn't influence Adam and Eve's free will. [...] God specifically says that he gives his creatures the option to serve or disobey, as he wants obedience that is freely given [or chosen], not forced. Some critics have claimed that the God of the poem undercuts his own arguments; however, Milton did not believe in the Calvinistic idea of 'predestination' (that God has already decided who is going to Hell and who to Heaven), but he often comes close to describing a Calvinistic God. God purposefully lets Lucifer (Satan) escape Hell, and sneak past Uriel into the Garden of Eden, and basically orchestrates the whole situation so that humanity can be easily ruined by a single disobedient act. In describing the Fall of Man before it happens, God already predicts how he will remedy it, and give greater glory to himself by sending his Son [Jesus Christ] to die, and restore the order of Heaven."

In Hazbin Hotel, Adam also describes the Calvinistic idea of 'predestination', and that "the rules are black and white":

However, "This possible predestination leads to the theory of the 'fortunate fall', which is based on Adam's delight at learning of the eventual coming of the Messiah [from his bloodline]. This idea says that God allowed the Fall of Man, so that he could bring good out of it, possibly more good than would have occurred without the Fall, and be able to show his love and power through the incarnation of his Son. In this way, the free will of Adam and Eve (and Lucifer/Satan) remains basically free, but still fits into God's overarching plan."

However, there is one major flaw with this, and that is that we don't know if Jesus Christ exists within the Hazbin Hotel universe or not. Yet Charlie Morningstar, the daughter of Lucifer Morningstar and Lilith, and the "Princess of Hell", is depicted as a savior-esque figure within the show who, like God in Paradise Lost, encourages lowly sinners to choose obedience to God out of their own free will. More interestingly, Charlie does not come from Adam's bloodline; yet, while Lucifer decries 'free will', Charlie supports 'free will' instead.

Perhaps is is merely because Charlie, being the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith, claims to want to fulfill Lilith's "dream" of humanity being empowered in Hell ("The mind is its own place, it can make Heaven out of Hell, or Hell out of Heaven" - Lucifer, Paradise Lost); however, I think it also stems from Charlie having a genuine belief that 'free will', and people choosing to do good instead of evil, is "good" and "Godly".

True to Paradise Lost, this is also in fulfillment of God's plan; and, according to one fanfiction, why God allowed Charlie to be born to Lucifer and Lilith, so that sinners may be redeemed through Charlie.

For more on differing interpretations of 'free will', I suggest reading: "Free Will and the Diminishing Importance of God's Will: A Study of Paradise Lost and Supernatural" by Kimberly Batchelor (2016)

Excerpt: "'Paradise Lost' –and Milton’s purpose for writing the poem— is rooted deeply in postreformation Arminianism and this is apparent in its employment of free will. Chapter 1 argues that Milton turns to free will as a tool to justify the actions of God. Freedom of choice is God-given, and sets up a morality in which right and wrong are dictated by God. Chapter 2 shows that in 'Supernatural', free will is not given by a higher power; and, in fact, free choice functions as an act of defiance against God's will."

This raises the question: Is 'free will' given by God, using Lucifer as his vessel, in Hazbin Hotel, as in Paradise Lost? Or is 'free will' not given by a higher power; and, in fact, an act of defiance against God?

This brings us back around to our first question: Why is an apple, or 'malus', used to depict the "fruit of knowledge", especially if 'malus' means 'bad or evil', whereas Milton depicts 'free will' as God-given?

Well, for one, Lucifer still chooses to associate himself with apple symbolism and imagery, despite being skeptical of free will:

Based on the introduction to Episode 1, Charlie also views 'free will' as a gift (Miltonian), whereas Lucifer appears to view it as a curse.

However, Charlie also notes that it was through the 'gift' of free will that the "root of all evil" entered the world, for if mankind could choose to be good, then they could also choose to be evil ('malus').

John Milton states in Paradise Lost: "Of Man's First Disobedience, and the Fruit Of that Forbidden Tree [malus], whose mortal taste Brought Death (evil, malus) into the World, and all our woe."

Thus, the use of an apple specifically is likely a tie-in to what others have been speculating about a character that series creator Vivienne Medrano (Vivziepop) alluded to a while back: "The Root of All Evil".

However, "Roo" itself is depicted as possessing the body of a human woman, presumably Eve, the first one to eat the "fruit of knowledge":

Thus, we can discern that "Malus" likely refers to this character. (Also see: "Maleficent", a name that also uses the root word "mal", "evil".) As for Roo's intentions, if Charlie is "good" - and, if, in fact, Alastor was sent by "Roo" (Eve) - then they may want for Alastor to work on their behalf to "corrupt" Charlie, or make sure the hotel never succeeds.

This is because demonic power is tied to human souls, and there are "millions of souls" in Hell, which likely fuels the great power of "Roo". The more souls there are in Hell, the more powerful "Roo" becomes. The Overlords also get their demonic power from "millions of souls".

The deal between Eve and "Roo" might even be the first contract, or deal, between a human soul and a demonic entity; in exchange for 'free will', and the knowledge of good and evil, Eve allowed the "Root of All Evil" to inhabit her body, and to escape the void or prison it was confined to by Heaven (Hell?). (For one cannot be 'all-good' unless you attempt to 'eliminate' or 'ablate' evil; and, in Greek mythology, Zeus imprisoned the Titans in Tartarus for all of their evil deeds.)

Another possibility, brought up in an article by Gillian Osborne, is that Lucifer sees the "fruit of knowledge" as an apple, but it may appear as different fruits to different people, depending on how they view it. This also fits with Lucifer and angels being able to easily shapeshift.

In Paradise Lost, only Lucifer describes the fruit as an "apple" (malus), as he associates malus with "bad, evil", while the narrator also describes the fruit as "a mix of different colors" and peach-like. This then begs the question: "Did the fruit of knowledge of good and evil become 'evil' because Eve harbored resentment towards Adam?"

Quote: "Lucifer (Satan) gives Eve yet another hint that this tree may be more complicated than he wishes her to believe: although elsewhere in Milton's poem Eden is heady with its own newness, sprouting spring flowers left and right, the tree of knowledge is already old: its trunk is 'mossie'. Nevertheless, Lucifer claims to wind himself around the tree 'soon'; the quickness of his reported arrival stands in contrast to the timescales required to cover a fruit tree with moss (PL 9.589). Placing Lucifer's winding body between these two timescales—an easeful present and the inhuman scale of natural history—Milton suggests that there is something dangerous in entangling the past with the present. Yet, 'Paradise Lost' also makes deep biblical history feel like present politics for its readers. When Adam and Eve wander out of Eden at the end of the poem, they famously make their way not only into an earthly paradise, but also into the present. Eden's mossy apple tree therefore represents the pitfalls of conflating nature and history, of seeing any action in human history—even Eve's eating of an apple—as natural, if by nature, we mean inevitability. For Milton, history, unlike nature, is directed by humans, progressive, and, like the reading of 'Paradise Lost', hard work. While trees may inevitably collect moss the longer they live, Adam and Eve's labors in the garden, and our labors of reading, require agency and effort. Milton's poem refuses mourning the loss of Eden, [and the perfection of Heaven], in favor of a perpetual, melancholic, recreation of paradise: a present perfecting."

To quote Twisted: The Untold Story of a Royal Vizier, which also draws inspiration from John Milton's Paradise Lost: "It's an unfortunate situation...but you do have a choice [i.e. free will]."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel analysis #hazbin #hazbin analysis #hazbin hotel meta #hazbin meta #hazbin hotel theory #hazbin theory #deep thoughts #john milton #paradise lost #eve hazbin hotel #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #adam hazbin hotel #lilith hazbin hotel #lilith morningstar #roo hazbin hotel #root of all evil

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inbarfink · 9 months

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So when discussing the ending of ‘Over the Garden Wall’ and the nature of the Unknown in general, I think it is important to remember that it’s left deliberately up for interpretation. You know, it’s not a Quiz with one concrete answer we must uncover, but it’s more about our interpretations and personal feelings. Each and every one of us experiences that journey with Wirt and Greg into the Unknown in a slightly different way.

So what I want to do here is not present a Correct Interpretation that will dispute all the others and prove them all wrong and prove myself right, I just want to share my own outlook on the nature of the Unknown. In the hopes that others will like it and it’ll inspire more cool readings and interpretations

So on some level I do agree with the popular theory that the Unknown is some sort of Afterlife - but I don’t see it as a regular Afterlife for human souls, I think it is an afterlife for Stories. This place is where fictional characters and stories end up once they’ve been totally forgotten by the living, ‘lost in the clouded annals of history’. and become.... unknown It is quite literally a place where ‘long forgotten stories are revealed to those who travel through the wood’.

That’s why the Unknown is a mishmash of different time periods and primarily visually and narratively influenced by stuff like fairy tales, ghost stories, children’s books and old cartoons - these stories have a high-tendency to be forgotten and thus get lost in the Unknown (whatever it’s because they rely on oral traditions or because they suffered from very poor preservation historically).

And that is what the theme song, ‘Into the Unknown’ is talking about…

Where can we pretend that dreams do come true? In Stories.

And what are ‘the loveliest lies of all’? Now that would be Fiction.

The entire concept of stories is a huge theme of this song, I think.

Beatrice and her family, Adelaide of the Pasture, Auntie Whispers and Lorna were all originally fairy tales. Maybe the same fairy tale, or maybe they were originally separated before being ‘melded’ together. (If, for example, the last child to Remember them before they were forgotten just assumed the Bad Witch in both the Auntie Whispers and Beatrice stories was Adelaide)

Pottsfield was an old urban legend about a haunted ghost town, Wirt and Greg basically played through its ‘plot’ directly.

Miss Langtree, the schoolhouse and the other associated characters come from a long-forgotten and out-of-print children’s book. That’s why those characters tend to talk in comically-stilted expository dialogue.

The Tavern was the setting for a series of 20’s animated cartoons. (Although obviously set long before that era). The Tavern Keeper was created as a Betty Boop clone and was the main character. The Tavern setting was probably a mere framing device for all sort of musical animations. The reason why none of them can comprehend the idea of not having some sort of Title or Label is because that’s how they were written - all given job-related titles but not named.

Fred the Talking Horse was a main character from a forgotten tradition of humorous oral stories where he was sometimes a trickstery anti-hero and sometimes a straight-up comedic villain protagonist.

Quincy Endicott and Margueritte Grey were characters from a satiric limerick about the greedy rich and their wacky habits. (Quincy was at least inspired by a real-life person since his name appears on a tombstone in the real world)

Possibly the same limerick where the punchline was the status-quo at the beginning of their OTGW ep, that both rivals’ mansions have become connected and they assume the other is a ghost haunting their house. Or maybe they were each from different regional variations of the same limerick about a greedy rich weirdo being lost in their own house and going mad.

Frogland and their little boat might be from a children’s book as well, but I also think that maybe… from the vignettes shown at the opening of the series…

That one might take place outside the Unknown, and shows the real inception of Frogland. Two brothers making up stories with their toy boat by the river. Since they never shared these stories with anyone else, when these two brothers died or maybe just grew up and forgot their boyhood misadventures by the stream - these stories also ended up in the Unknown.

The Fishing Fish we see briefly in ‘Babes in the Woods’ might be a small comedic illustration from a children’s book, or another piece of limerick, or just someone’s random notebook doodle that gained a life of its own first in the creator’s mind and then in the Unknown.

Cloud City, the North Wind and the Queen of the Clouds were also, much like the Tavern, from a very old cartoon.

The Beast was once just a mere Boogie Man to keep young children from wandering off into the woods. Ending up forgotten in the Unknown just ended up giving him a whole world of lost souls to harvest.

Maybe the Woodsman and his daughter were always a part of the story of the Beast. But since it seems that the Woodsman being a lantern-bearer is a fairly recent development - they might have had their own separate story. Some sort of pastoral novel about a family moving near the woods? But their narrative has been ‘hijacked’ by the Beast.

Wirt and Greg ended up lost within the Unknown cause had they actually died in the lake that night - they would have become a Story in their town. I mean we have a moody lonely teenager and his adorable little brother disappearing/dying - on the night of Halloween - after last being seen in a graveyard - with the older brother’s last act on this earth being to hand his crush a cassette of his love poetry. Can you imagine what sort of Urban Legenda you can grow from those seeds?

But as they were not yet dead, and not a Story yet… so they were technically an Unknown story. Between the borders of life and death from a human perspective because they were about to die, and from a Story perspective because they were just about to be born.

And the ending sequence, with the little vignettes showing where all the characters from all the episodes ended up. I think that’s almost like Wirt and Greg back in the world of the living and the real - being able to create happy endings for all of those stories they've met. That’s how the Woodsman’s daughter ended up being alive all along - it was less that the Woodsman's whole tragedy was a wacky misunderstanding all along. But it became so as a gift of thanks by their new storytellers - Wirt and Greg.

Because if dreams can't come true, than why not pretend?

#over the garden wall #otgw #the unknown

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bumblebeesfromvenus · 6 months

Note

Hello 🤗 Can you please write part 2 of bale batman with assistant reader headcanons where he was in love with her but hasn't confessed yet and gets jealous when she pays attention to someone else? Thank you ❤️

Of course, lovely anon!! <3

A/N: more Bale!Bruce!!! I love writing for him, thank you so much for requesting <3 I might have little surprise planned for all of the Bale!Bruce lovers hehe 👀

~Fi 🐝

Part 1 ♡

Bruce secretly being in love with assistant!reader ♡

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◇First of all,

◇We all know his smooth talking is immaculate, he's Gothams playboy, a flirting legend.

◇With you, though?

◇Yeah, no chance.

◇He's stumbling over his words, blushing.

◇He's a mess, basically.

◇Because he actually cares what you think. He wants to impress you, not with his money or status, but with his personality.

◇That has never happened before. It scares him a little, but he can't help but smile a bit at your influence on him.

◇Also, he cannot stop looking at you. He's admiring you every second.

◇He doesn't get any work done, he almost messed up the biggest deal Wayne Enterprises had ever gotten just because he thinks you're pretty.

◇In his mind, you're already married and have 3 kids together.

◇He probably bought the ring already.

◇Bruce regularly buys you flowers, expensive chocolates, like he does not hold back.

◇But, he is very possessive, you're his, whether you know it or not.

◇He's very convinced you love him too, why would you smile at him so sweetly, or always make sure he's okay if you weren't?

◇He would never make you uncomfortable or cross any boundaries but god, he would have you sit on his lap every single day if he could.

◇Everything's going well, he watches you from afar, his eyes are basically hearts at this point.

◇That is until he sees you talking to some guy named Jake, who apparently also works here, and he makes you laugh just a little too much for Bruce's taste.

◇He should be the one making you laugh and smile like that, not some guy who's been trying to get in your pants for months now.

◇You don't get the hint though, you just think Jake is a nice bloke who's actually interested in working here, and with you.

◇Bruce sees through that immediately and it makes him scowl.

◇Why would anyone do that to you? You're so lovely and perfect, that Jake fella doesn't appreciate you. He doesn't deserve you.

◇Bruce knows he's better in every way, he could buy you whatever you want, you'd never have to work again, but most importantly, he would love you.

◇Truly love you, like a beautiful woman like you deserves.

◇He definitely intimidates and threatens Jake behind your back. He would love to do it in front of you, but he's worried he'll scare you away.

◇Bruce makes a final statement by moving your desk into his office permanently.

◇Jake still tries to get laid, and Bruce is about to actually punch this fucker if he doesn't stop.

◇Apparently threatening to fire him didn't do the trick.

◇He calls Jake to his office once you're on your lunch break and just straight up tells him that you're his and that if he doesn't stop trying to fuck his woman, there will be unpleasant consequences.

◇"Hey Bruce, have you seen Jake lately?"

◇"Hm? Oh, he moved so he had to quit."

◇He's so in love with you it's actually insane.

◇He's so bad at hiding it too, it's like all those years of playboy experience disintegrate once he sees you smile.

◇He lays in his bed at night, thinking what it would be like of you were there with him.

◇Then, the images of you talking to other men and smiling take over his mind and his blood is boiling.

◇You're not allowed to talk to any other men besides Alfred, Lucius and Gordon.

◇Would he ever tell you or act on that?

◇Absolutely not, he know he doesn't own you.

◇He'd just preferred it if you didn't.

◇He snapped one time and kissed you in front of the whole company. It was a rough and hungry kiss, but it didn't lack gentleness.

◇Bruce disappeared into a hole of shame for a week. He definitely crossed a line, he shouldn't have done that.

◇He has to come back to work at some point, so he does but he immediately wants to sink into the ground once he sees you.

◇That's until he sees you.. smiling?

◇You're all excited to see him back and you tell him that you missed him and he caves.

◇He confesses his love to you in a 10 minute rant about how amazing and perfect you are (and how stupid Jake was) and you're just standing there dumbfounded.

◇Yeah, he kissed you, but given his past you didn't actually think that kiss meant anything to him.

◇It meant the world to him and he literally couldn't stop thinking about it. Or you, for that matter.

Some NSFW~

◇He also had this dark and twisted fantasy of fucking you in front of everyone so they'd see you're his and no one else's.

◇He's a little ashamed to think of you like that, but he can't deny that the thought gets his dick hard.

◇When a some guy checks you out on the street, you're in for something.

◇He won't ever, ever take it out on you because how is that your fault that some men are pigs?

◇He'd make you come extra hard, just so you know he's the one who made you feel that good and, come on now, those other dudes could never make you feel like this.

◇He definitely needs you to tell him that you're his, despite his confidence I believe he's a little insecure just because he never had anything real before.

◇Bruce is on his knees, eating you out until you see stars and he looks up at you and just asks "you're mine, right?"

◇low key gets kinda subby, he needs you to assure him so bad.

◇You're just nodding eagerly because that's all you can muster the way he's fucking his tongue into you.

◇"Good."

◇It's a low vibration in his throat and all that insecurity and unsureness just evaporates.

◇He's always so loving during sex, especially after incidents, like this one.

◇You're both smiling and making each other feel good and loved, and he's definitely the one for you, as you are for him <3

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I looked through the Bale!Bruce tag and.... it's so dead :( I'M SORRY FOR NOT WRITING MORE SOONER, I HAVE MORE PLANNED VERY SOON!! <33

#bumblebeesfromvenus #bale!bruce x reader #bale!bruce wayne smut #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #christian bale #bale!bruce wayne x reader #dark knight #the dark knigth rises

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lokisgoodgirl · 2 years

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The Ceremony [Asgard! Loki x Fem. Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Every 1000 years, the gods of Asgard provide their sacred seed in a revered and respected ceremony🍆✨ Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Voyeurism. Language. Humour. A/N: Inspired by a scene in The Tudors where Henry VIII has a w*nk into a dish held by a servant. @lokischambermaid thank you for being my unwavering bad influence and cackle-merchant. (w/c 3.1k)

Loki sighed, turning and gazing critically at his reflection. He pulled the tie of his ceremonial robe tight around his hips. Green and gold. “Why we must endure this infernal sideshow of lewd banality, mother? It’s absurd.” Frigga rolled her eyes, a laugh catching on her tongue as she tutted gently. “I tell you this every millennia, Loki. The Ceremony of the Sacred Seed is not a sideshow. It is imperative to the good of Asgard.” “Watching the Royal family masturbate onto a garish golden platter is imperative to the good of Asgard? I see.” Loki huffed, smoothing his hair in the mirror.

The material was finest spun silk chiffon, the barely opaque fabric clinging seductively to every curve of Loki’s muscled body. A little too seductively, for Loki’s liking.

Intricate lace was hearted to the edging, pure sewn gold weighing on the hem. The ceremonial dressing gowns were woven by hand, the delicate work passed through generations. Creation of each of the three bespoke items for the gods of Asgard were legend, spanning the thousand years between ceremonies. Only the eldest and most revered weavers of the city were instructed; the knobble-fingered crones, Loki thought. He shivered, the image like freezing water on his balls. Frigga knew he was toying with her, but still...she felt the need to remind him of the role he must play. That all the men in their family must play. “You know very well that the seed is collected, that it is offered to the soil beneath the Tree of All Things to ensure Asgard’s continued prosperity. The people must-” “-The people must see that their gods' are strong, virile and willing to serve the realm with our innate power, brother. Our sacred seed gives sustenance to the tree, which in turn serves the people. Yes, mother?” Thor boomed. His own ceremonial robe hung loose at the waist, his oiled chest on display; the tie dangling ominously close to revealing all that lay beneath. He took a bite of an apple, the crunch making Loki flinch. “Yes, darling.” Frigga replied, squeezing Thor’s forearm as he grinned widely between messy chews. Loki grimaced, turning away. “Why must I always be last? It’s humiliating.” he murmured, tucking his hair behind his ears as he lingered on his reflection. His eyes flickered upward, seeing Thor’s beaming face appear ghoulishly over his shoulder. “Because you’re my little brother, brother.” the blonde smirked, taking another bite of apple. “I don’t know why you always make such a fuss, Loki. This is my sixth ceremony...and your fifth. Just close your eyes and think of someone pretty.” “We are not all as brutish in our carnal delights as you, brother” he hissed, “to whom the mere sight of a curvaceous table leg during a feast has him making a hasty exit to his chambers and the embrace of his hand. Some of us require more complex inspiration.”

Frigga raised her eyebrows, lips pursed at the familiar spat between her sons. Loki’s ceremonial gown swirled around his bare legs as he paced the floor, incandescent with self-satisfied vitriol. “...and inspiration such as that, I shan’t find behind those doors. Especially not as the third act to my father and brother’s sequential onanism.” “Onanism, brother?” Thor scrunched his eyebrows as a low cheer echoed from the hall next door, the sign that Odin’s contribution in the ceremony had been secured. “Self-pleasure, you cretinous rube.” the dark-god muttered, staring out the window-arch at the pink glow settling over the city below. “It’s time, Thor.” Frigga said, sensing the approach of the guards to usher her blonde son to his duty. He tossed the half-eaten apple towards Loki, a flick of his brother’s wrist making it vanish in mid-air. “Time to give the people want they want.” Thor grinned, throwing Loki a wink as Frigga tightened the belt around his hips. “Prepare yourself, Loki...I shan’t be long.” he rumbled smugly, making his way towards the now-open golden doors to the side, striding past the guards with arms outstretched. Loki could hear his brother working the crowd, their welcoming applause making him shudder. Two-hundred of Asgard’s dignitaries waited through those doors; standing in the side-wing of the great hall. Murals of past ceremonies decorated the alcove, visual reminders of memories that Loki would rather forget. Fifty witness spaces were balloted to the citizens of Asgard, the right to attend considered the highest honour. ‘The Ceremony of the Sacred Seed must be witnessed. We must be seen to be benevolent’, Loki thought, recalling his mother’s words in the lead up to his first experience with this accursed tradition. He rolled his eyes silently, making Frigga chuckle. “I shall leave you now.” she murmured, touching his arm lightly before her dress was but a whisper across the marble floors. For the first time, Loki felt the clench of nerves in his stomach. A thumbnail scratched at the gold edging of the robe by his heart, slipping to rub the muscle beneath. He closed his eyes, exhaling deeply as he summoned familiar thoughts of the one he adored from afar. The one he craved. The forbidden one.

His hand slid down his chest between the soft fabric, the tie of his robe loosening. Massaging his soft cock, he could feel the first stirrings as his mind perused well-trodden fantasies. Slipping down the shoulder of her dress to plant a biting kiss, a tug of her wrists fastened to his bedpost, one slick soaped-up calf rising seductively above the rim of his claw-foot tub. Loki shivered, a wave of desire rolling down his spine, ass clenching. The loose fist he had made around his manhood pressed outward, the flesh thickening beneath dangerous thoughts. He was ready.

On cue, respectful cheers rumbled through the wall signalling that Thor’s dutiful service to the realm had been a success. Quick and artless, as usual; Loki thought with a smirk. The engraved golden doors swung backwards, palace guards setting themselves at either side in wait of their prince. Loki took a deep breath, striding barefoot across the marble floor. The flow of his ceremonial garb grazed his ankles with each long step, his shoulders squared; jaw set. He stared ahead, as imposing in the luxurious garment as he would be in his battle armour. The god’s dark hair rested behind his shoulders, one curl falling forward as he gave a curt nod to the high-priestess standing in the centre of the alcove. She raised an arm with difficulty, the long draped sleeves of her white gown made of the same intricate material as his robe. Don’t think about the knobbled crones, Loki thought; cursing himself inwardly.

“Loki Odinson. Prince of Asgard. Second son of our most sacred royal lineage...” Her voice was strong and commanding despite her advanced age, the white of her hair strewn across the back of her dazzling gown. “God of Mischief and Chaos; sworn protector of Asgard and its people. Do you consent to a ceremonial offering of your most sacred seed this night?” Loki’s eyes went out of focus momentarily, the temptation to roll them almost overwhelming. “I do.” he muttered, to a murmur of approval from the shuffling crowd. He ran his gaze around the half-moon congregation, two-hundred spectators waiting with a mix of trepidation and awe as Loki took his place in the centre. His stare crawled across familiar faces from council meetings and feasts, dignitaries and statesmen who had roamed his father's halls all his life. Their presence was to be expected.

In the middle of the crowd, the Asgardian citizens stood, their clothes noticeably less refined. Less...gold. Many held their hats in their hand, reverent and disbelieving at the sights they had seen thusfar as sunset drew closer. Four guards stood in a square around the dark prince, each holding a pole from which white silk hung like a flag. They all turned; eyes cast upward as they raised their posts to conceal the prince from the waist up. Loki heard a disappointed hush of whispers from his left, tilting his head in half-interested acknowledgment of their discontent. Of course, he thought with a smirk; observing a small group of women. The wives and daughters of Asgard’s political elite. With one notable exception. “It is time.” the high-priestess announced, passing the infamous golden platter to her disciple. Loki nonchalantly untied his ceremonial robe, letting the exquisite green fabric fall loose at his chest. He threw a knowing glance toward the women leaning forward in rapt attention as the silk-chiffon slid down his shoulders, catching on the curve of his biceps. They giggled, quickly hushed by their elders. Every inch revealed more of the legendary landscape of his body, forearms tensing as his broad shoulders rolled back. Several of the women gasped audibly, the ceremonial robe pooling on the floor around his bare feet with a soft rustle. Loki knew that the dying rays of sunlight from the circular window behind would be radiating across his skin, sparking the gloss of every strand of raven hair. He raised his chin upward, letting the crowd admire their prince as he gave a nod to the high-priestess. A sudden scent wafted in his nostrils, making them flare. Poppy. Only one person in this palace wore the scent of poppy.

His stomach fluttered, excited murmurs from the crowd becoming white noise as his eyes fell on she who haunted his thoughts. She slid beside the gaggle of women muttering to each other. There you were. Your face collected; dutiful. Beautifully impenetrable. In every way. She’s not supposed to be here, Loki thought; biting his lip as he extended his hand, one of the guards pouring oil into his palm. “Begin, Prince Loki.” the priestess proclaimed theatrically.

Loki’s gaze fell to the man kneeling in front of him, head bent in dutiful reverence with the golden receptacle outstretched, ready to receive his offering. The platter bearer, Norns; Loki thought. Best seat in the house. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply with his chin tilted upward. The scent of your perfume hung in the air like smoke, tendrils invading Loki’s mind as it began to whirl with lust. So close. You were so close...and you would see him as you had never seen him. As you had been forbidden to see him. Loki smirked, loose grip running up his thick arousal. Sneaking into the Ceremony, against her father’s wishes? What a naughty girl. Long fingers flexed around the base of his girth, giving it a tight squeeze. His lips parted, a low sigh of need escaping under the smallest movement of his hand. His oil slicked palm slid up his member...all the way up, achingly slowly. A gruff ahh caught in his throat as his fingers grasped the sensitive tip, imagining your plump lips sucking brazenly in their place. Loki’s grip tightened; his teeth gritted in concentration as he widened his stance. The marble was cool beneath his bare feet. How many times Loki had envisioned how he would take you upon this sacrosanct floor. The skirts of your dress pushed around your waist as your nails clawed down his back. He would unmake you, devour you, he would free you from every modesty you had ever learned...starting with that beautiful cun- “Fuckkk...uhhh..” Loki moaned, the echo creeping to every corner of the hallowed alcove and beyond. His head fell back further, waves of his hair brushing against the centre of his shoulder-blades as he stroked himself shamelessly under the spell of fantasy. “G-gods...yes.” A shocked murmur rippled through the crowd. The Ceremony was usually a silent affair, perhaps a whine or two at completion from its participants but nothing so...enthusiastic. From the level at which they stood, the crowd began to shuffle, craning to catch a better view of a god lost in his own ecstasy. Above the silk panels, his strong torso was visible from the navel, every thrust of his hips against his palm making that powerful stomach clench. The fading light cast shadows across deep abs, spasms of restrained desire making the muscles at his ribs jolt beneath the taut skin. Loki’s face was marble in motion, exquisite cheekbones sharpening and softening with each biting clench of his jaw, panting sluttishly to the muraled dome above. Loki’s mind wandered to the day he had returned from battle, coated in blood of a thousand foes: dead by his hand. You had run to him, concern etched across your brow, before you realised that the blood was not his own. How innocent you were. If only you had known the things that he would do to you. That he would have you do to him.

In his fantasises, he envisioned you pushing him against the balustrade, ravenously thrusting your tongue into his mouth. You would have relished every drop of him mixed with the sweat and filth of war that clung to his skin; consuming the grime as you would the one that wore it. Dirty girl, Loki thought; his stomach flipping with a wave of adrenaline, dangerously close to climax. You would be such a dirty slut for me. And only me. Loki thought of how your fingers would make quick work of the crusted ties holding his leather trousers at the hips. Of your hands slipping down to grasp his furiously hard cock in your delicate grip. His knees would buckle, delicious cleavage pressing against his bloodied armour; red streaks smeared across your cheek as you savagely took his pleasure at any cost. “Uh-uh-uh...Uh hhhh- y-yes...don’t stop...Gods.” Loki grunted wantonly, his face falling forwards with his mouth hanging open. His cock was bursting, flexing outward against the tight clamp of white knuckles. Blood thundered in his ears, a thick haze of feral lust coursing in his veins as he raised his gaze slowly, ceasing his heavy strokes to a crawl. The disciple at his feet raised his head in expectation, bringing the golden platter forward; flinching back down when he realised his mistake. Loki’s eyes locked to yours, watching him with that same concerned expression that you had worn in the hallway the day he returned. Or wait..., Loki thought as he palmed his cock gently upward, a shiver of desire rolling down his spine; Not concern. Need. Your lips were parted, brows knitted in concentration as you shuffled beneath his simmering gaze. Loki’s eyes ran covetously over your frame, your breasts rising and falling against the corset of that pretty dress. They may not know how much you wish to be behind these silk curtains on your knees choking on my cock, darling; Loki smirked to himself, as you let out a staggered breath beneath his smouldering stare. But I do. He let out a low growl, eyes rolling back as a thumb pressed up the centre of his wide manhood. The oil on his hand was hot with friction, slipping around the velvet skin beneath. Loki’s eyes never left yours, tilting his chin upwards again. His hair fell around his cheekbones, a strand sucked across his lips as he began to pant beneath the renewed pace of his palm. He observed you through half-lidded eyes, biting his lip as his ass clenched with every smooth swipe of his hand against that forbidden pleasure he knew you craved. How he wanted you. How he had always wanted you. Loki hoped your father could see the eye-fucking occurring amid this most solemn of Asgardian festivals. An honour: Loki thought with a sly tug of his lips, that even that odious old fucker could not deny, surely. “Oh-oh, f-fuck...yess.” Loki groaned, close to release; syllables dripping from his tongue like double cream. His fist flexed around his length, palming himself mercilessly while thoughts of you ravaging his cock invaded his senses.

The god’s eyebrows slanted upward, his jaw slackening. A murmur of excitement rolled across the crowd, seeing the prince’s shoulders tense and tighten. Biceps bulged as his free hand grasped his naked thigh beneath the silk panel, an audible gasp from the spectators as he threw his head back. The veins in his throat stood out, jawline sharp as Vanaheim steel in the embers of smouldering sunset. The curtain-bearers tenses in position, the manservant serving the golden platter forward as the muscles in Loki’s legs strained against the precipice of orgasm. His eyes squeezed shut. Knowing you were watching him come undone...that would need to be enough. For now. He could feel breaths catching in his throat, panting like a wolf on the hunt. Stars flashed and simmered behind his eyelids, mutters of anticipation rising from the crowd as his dark moans of shameless pleasure reverberated around the marble walls. In his mind, you were lying in his bed. Legs spread to welcome him as he lowered between your open thighs, melting into the curve of your breasts. “Take me, Loki.” you would whisper against his skin, as you guided his aching cock inside your wet, hot cunt. “I’ve been waiting for you.” With a thundering groan that would wake the dead, Loki came. It rang around the alcove, bouncing to every nook and cranny of the great hall beyond. He heard the group of women gasp in unison, their quiet whines peppering the air as he came undone. Glorious, pure white seed spurted across the outstretched golden bowl as Loki juddered. He steadied against the shoulder of one of the stoic curtain-bearers as shallow pants racked his body. Loki squeezed up from the base of his cock, every drop of his essence secured. For none could remain. Slow claps dotted the crowd, growing louder as the spectators showed their appreciation for his dutiful service to the realm. The god's eyes flickered to where you stood; a coy smile pressing against your dimples as you applauded demurely with a mischievous glint in your eye. He swiped the ceremonial robe held out to him, making a show of whirling it around his body, allowing you a final gratuitous look. Loki tightened the cord around his hips, straightening and smoothing his hair back as the curtain-bearers raised their poles to reveal his whole form once more. I’m still hard, Loki thought, realising immediately that he didn’t care. The high-priestess approached, giving a small bow. She smiled, leaning in toward him. “One can always count on Asgard’s second son for some...unorthodoxy.” she whispered. “It is nice to see that a millennia has not changed you, Loki.” She winked, accepting the golden platter and its contents from the kneeling man shuffling on his knees across the floor. Loki rolled his eyes. “Will that be all?” he quipped, pursing his lips. She nodded, the same smile tugging the corner of her mouth. He gave a curt nod to each section of the crowd, lingering a moment longer toward the one where you stood. Loki could swear there was a thin sheen of sweat on your collarbone, that you pressed your lips together to contain a bite as he raised his eyes to yours.

I have been waiting for you, he thought, feeling his heavy cock throb as he began the short walk back through the golden doors from whence he came. Tonight, my forbidden one; we shall wait no more.

Tags

@lokischambermaid @lady-rose-moon @gigglingtigger @holymultiplefandomsbatman @muddyorbs @xorpsbane @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @loopsisloops @thedistractedagglomeration @loveroflokiforpoeticjustice @123forgottherest @joyful-enchantress @sititran @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @mrsbarnes32557038 @michelleleewise @vbecker10 @imalovernotahater @lokiprompts @thomase1 @morriggannlostinfandoms @ladylovesloki @marygoddessofmischief @ravenwings73 @xorpsbane @filthyhiddles @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @ozymdias @peaches1958 @your-taste-on-my-lips @stupidthoughtsinwriting @lokisgirll @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @peachyymallows @soldeloki @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden

#loki laufeyson x female reader #loki x reader #loki smut #lokismut #loki of asgard #loki odinson #loki x reader smut #loki x you smut #loki x yn smut #loki x you #loki x yn #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki oneshot #loki fanfic

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sass-squat · 1 year

Text

Part 6 of the Linked Universe Winged Au! After many requests this time around we've got our Veteran, Legend!

<<< Previous Next >>>

As always we have to start off with a bird fact, so did you know that male White-Winged Crossbills have unpigmented barbules that mask their red color and are what make them appear pink in the fall? However, as these barbules wear off, the bright red is able to show through leaving them a brilliant red in the spring and summer!

Anyways, I found this fact to be very interesting especially considering Legend's adventure throughout Oracle of Seasons. Just the mental image of his plumage slightly shifting with the constant changing of the seasons was very funny to me and I couldn't NOT make it canon. Plus, I enjoy making his life more difficult than it already is because I also headcanon that when he was younger, his wings were constantly stuck in a half molted state because white-winged crossbills usually molt in the fall. In other words, turns out messing around with seasons and time has consequences so he was a very scruffy, fluffy looking kid growing up.

As for how he looks and acts now, he has many similar characteristics and behaviors of a White-Winged Crossbill. For example, he is a very strong flier, and his unique way of flying has given him a very aggressive and abrupt fighting style both on the ground and in the air. His style of fighting is especially effective in forests with a lot of trees because it allows him to dart between foliage and foes alike.

While his flight and fighting styles were influenced by the sheer number of quests he has gone on as well as his young age when he began, other characteristics and behaviors of his were also influenced as well. For example, when he was still just a kid thrown into his first adventure where just about everything in the world was bigger than him, he learned to bristle and fluff his feathers to appear bigger and more threatening to enemies. While somewhat effective at the time, nowadays it means he still has the unconscious habit of doing it whenever he is irritated or embarrassed.

In addition to his tendency to "poof" when upset, he also has a habit of picking at and pulling out his own feathers when especially stressed. He picked up this habit mainly because of his constant molting as a child but then continued it as he was went on more and more adventures. Doing it is second nature to him now, but it's a bad habit he's actively trying to break by fiddling with his rings instead. It's also part of why he's so insistent about preening the others because helping them quite literally stops him from pulling out his own feathers.

Anyways! I could go on, but that's all for now folks! Thank you again for all your support and kind messages! I really treasure them and they are always the highlight of my day! As always, feel free to let me know who or what you would like to see next! Thank you all again!

Bonus Doodle Feat. Wind taking a photo of Wild taking a photo of Legend inspired by this masterpiece:

#my art #winged au #LUWAU #Linked Universe: Winged AU #linkeduniverse #linked universe #loz #legend of zelda #loz link #lu legend #I'm a failure #I swear I had this art done like 2 days ago but I'm illiterate and couldn't write to save my life #Anyways. Making Legend's life and childhood even more difficult than it already was is my passion #Did I basically give him the equivalent of bird acne with his constant molting??? Whoops.#also that lil tidbit about pulling out his own feathers is a real thing birds do when physically or emotionally distressed!#I really looked at Legend and went “this bad boy can hold so many suppressed trauma responses”#I also showed this to @breannasfluff a couple days ago and she said Legend looked like he was posing for a picture #So I had to draw a quick doodle to make it canon #I use my time and artistic talents for good I swear

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some-pers0n · 2 months

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Hi I made a crackfic for Arctic's death because I had a terrible, horrible idea inspired by that old fandom meme. I don't regret anything <3

"Aaannnddd...perfect!" Darkstalker stepped back. "All set and ready to go. Haha! Look at him! Clearsight, look, c'mon. Come see."

"Darkstalker, I don't think this is a good idea–"

"Shut up woman and come look," he bluntly said. "Come on, it's not like the camera's gonna bite you or anything. Neither is Arctic, but, eh, maybe that'll add to the drama. The kids love it when people get hurt, it's why they watch it."

He grabbed the camera again and pointed it at Clearsight. "It's rolling. Come on, babe, don't you wanna do it? For the bit? Ohhh it'll be such a funny thumbnail. Everyone's gonna click on it. Just stick your head near him."

"I'm not going to bite an innocent dragon..." Arctic muttered.

"HA! Oh but it's okay for you to do that to me. Not cool dad. Mid dad behaviour, tee-bee-haitch. To be honest. Tee-bee-haitch– you get it."

"Back in my day we just called somebody a 'loser' if they were a bad parent. Like, me? I'm a dead-beat dad."

"Yeah, that's true." Clearsight nodded.

"But I'm not...mid? What does that even mean?"

"Mannn you so did not cook. 'Dead-beat'? Yeah, you're gonna be dead as hell once I'm done with ya. Like for real done. Dead. Deceased. Ain't coming back from that."

"God just kill me now," Arctic grumbled.

"In a minute! Me. I'm God. It's me. Get used to it :)"

"What was that sound you just made with your mouth--" Clearsight began but Darkstalker cut her off. He couldn't bother to hear such a whiny, woman voice. He needed to pay more attention to the crowd that gathered.

"Hey, hey! Guys! Check this out! I'm a livestreamer. I do all of these cool things on Twitch and YouTube. Follow me! My handle's Darksalter. Like Darkstalker, but salty, cause of all of the noobs I own on my daily League of Legends streams."

The surrounding NightWings just blinked at him.

"Ughhhh. How about you guys being recorded, huh? You get famous! Right here, right now, this is a big deal. No cap, this is serious. This is gonna be a livestream to end all livestreams. There's gonna be like at least ten dragons watching!!"

"OH MY GOD!?" One dragon shouted. "TEN??? I've never seen anybody have that many, hold on! We gotta watch this guy!"

Immediately, the entire population of the Night Kingdom arrived. Even the queen (a closeted Darksalter fan, who was wearing all of his merch) was waiting for him. They all cheered and clamoured for him.

"Settle, settle! I know you're all such adoring fans. Believe me, I would love me too. Already do! Such a great, handsome, all powerful animus." He flexed his muscles. "Plus, the ladies love me." He glanced back at Clearsight, who had the most aggressively unenthusiastic frown he ever seen.

"But, but, we gotta wait a minute. First, I gotta mew."

"What does that even mean?" Clearsight asked.

Darkstalker did not answer. He brought a talon up to his snout and then traced the outline of his perfectly gorgeous jawline. I mean just look at that thing. Downright beautiful. Like, come on now. Look him up right now. Yeah, yeah! The thang of all time! That sweet, succulent jaw. Bro's been mewing since the day he was hatched.

[A/N: it is a pretty cool jawline]

He cleared his throat. "Anyways, enough talk. You had your shot for the thumbnail, so now it's all about me." He looked at the camera and enchanted it to float. It hovered above, pointing at him. "Three, two, one..." He clapped. "And we're live!"

The crowd cheered and roared as he did so. No omegaluls. No minus ones. He was an unboxing andy just about ready to tear open into his best work yet.

"Hey what's going on Stalker Gang! How are the stalkers in chat going? Can we get the hype train going?" He gestured to the crowd, which yelled and screamed louder. "Yeah!! Let's go Stalker Gang!!"

"Darkstalker...this isn't you." Clearsight sobbed. "You don't do this. You aren't like this!"

"Baby, I'm an influencer. It's my duty as Twitch's No. 27 streamer of all time!"

Clearsight cried more but Darkstalker did not care. He turned back to the camera. "Ayyy guys!" He clasped his talons. "So, today is a very, very special day, because we have a guest! That's right, my terrible, very uncool, incredibly mid father! Look at him. Blue pilled in every sense of the word. Even his blood's blue, which y'all are gonna see real quick." He pushed the camera directly in his face.

"Hey, hey, everyone!" He gestured to Arctic. "Can I get a 'boo' from you all?"

With his command, the crowd began to jeer at Arctic. A wave of rotting tomatoes came hurling his way, splattering against his face.

"And, with that being said, this stream is sponsored by Glep. Get a Glep. Now. Or else. You don't wanna be there when Glep is upset. That's how the last moon was destroyed." He stared silently into the camera for a minute, as customary with the Glep sponsors.

"NOW!! Let's get this going!" He pointed at Arctic. "You. Unbox yourself."

"Wh–" Arctic didn't have a chance to finish before he clawed at his torso and gutted himself. The crowd kept cheering and applauding and tossing money at Darkstalker.

"Woah woah, pretty messy, huh guys?" He raised an eyebrow. "Totally unpoggers. L behaviour. Boo!!" But when he turned back, he noticed that everyone stopped cheering.

"Bro, dude," one dragon began, "poggers is so, like, old man. That's so cringe, skull emoji."

Then, they began to dissipate. Quickly as they arrived, they left. He was cringe now. So cringe.

"No, NO! Wait! Come back! I'm still relevant! I'm still hip with the kids! I– I..." But it was too late. He was cancelled for being cringe. Everyone was bored by him. He was out-of-touch. He was out of time. He was out of his head when they're not around.

Behind him, he heard his sister, Whiteout, crying. He turned back to see that her favourite stim toy, a rainbow coloured pop-it shaped like a crewmate from Amomg Us, was lying on the floor. Things must be serious.

"Sis, are you upset at me?..." he muttered.

"Yes! You just unboxed our dad! My trauma points are like so high right now. I can't even..." She wiped her tears and kept crying.

Darkstalker looked back at Arctic, who was dead. Very dead. He growled. "When I'm the alpha king of the world, everyone will be my fan. Everyone will follow me! Everyone will like and subscribe! You'll see, you'll all see!"

#sp-writing #wof #darkstalker wof #wings of fire

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lets-try-some-writing · 9 months

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Slight spoiler for beast wars, not really plot relevance but lore that makes me think and give me this idea.

So we all can agree that raf understanding beee is complete nonsense and just suspension of disbelif we need to accept. But what if it wasn't?

So, in the movie there is a small trive that live in close proximity to the maximals, they live in harmony for generations. What if that closeness to a new species affects humans causing them to adapt to better live with them?

Earth in transformers prime is just unicron that had been sleep for a long time in ita center. There is dark energon running close to earth surface (a god damn volcano erupted with it, I'm no expert but that can't happen unless is sources is close to the arth surface) so is not impossible to belive that an ancient human civilization could have found dark energon close to them. Sure they might not know what it is and it is stablish that its toxic for humans. but just been close to it for generations without direct contact might affect human physiology in ways no one might notice. We are an adaptive species. Each generation gets more strong to survive in the environment they ancestors live (people that are not use to the low level of oxygen in mountains and other hight places tend to pass out when reaching that point, is a real thing and there a people that have live in such places without any trouble for generations) what if they could even contact with unicron long ago, like just grab a pieces of dark energon and go "this is your God speaking, why did you interrupt my slumber".

They developed and entire society praising this "god" and its "magic cristals". They eventually died our but jot before being affected by their closeness to unicron

Like being able to understand our aliens cousins. Survive the same letal substance (even if barely) and even survive a regular energon intake even when is supposed to be bad for humans. I don't remember if it was ever stablish what could happen if a human was injected energon, but I still can't belive raf was save that easily, not without it having a reason.

That gave the idea that humans might have inherited some cybertronians traits, particularly those who have live close to energon mines and/or the different relics/predators bones scattered across the planet.

Like this are my ideas of traits the kids have that could be explain has them being close related to people that live in closeness to cybertronian influence.

Raf: smart enough to understand cybertronians technology in a matter of weeks. Can understand bee, and can withstand energon toxicity with ease compare to others.

Miko: it was never explain how she could use the apex amor despite it being made for cybertronians. So an affinity to such technology. I also like to belive that her recklessness can be because subconsciously she might think she is strong enough to survives such dangerous situations. Like her mind is telling her "you are strong, no matter what your body looks like".

Jack: he could use the key to Becton sigma, there is no way a human could have use it unless they were some what in tune with cybertronians technology. He is also drawn to mechanics (it was never a big thing but I remember him trying to build a motorcycle engine, that can't be easy with some deep knowledge)

That being explained. How could the bots find out about this? Simple actually "ancestry research" the kids might have to do a project about their ancestor and can end up telling stories that they hear for their familys and might even have some objects that they show to the bots and they connect the doslts abd found out how close humans actually are to cybertronians.

Like, Miko might have a nekless that is a small Predacon bone.

Raf family can have some small statues made by some strange glowing rock (some purple, some blue and maybe even a red one)

Jack might have a book that is just legends pass down fron his ancestor that are just cybertronian tales that unicron told old humans when he was still awake long ago.

I have more ideas but this thing is long enough what would you think wat are your ideas?

This is a phenomenal idea and I am incredibly pleased you saw fit to share with me. I will gladly take what you have presented and make it more long form.

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Remnants of a Bygone Age

When Unicron was cast away long ago by Primus's chosen champions, he could neither move nor sense what was happening around him. Consciousness came in bursts and never for long, and due to the damage sustained during his battle at the beginning of times, his memory from his various waking moments faded like smoke as soon as he returned to slumber. As such he did not recall his interactions with the ancient beginnings of humanity that spawned on his surface.

His essence was largely kept near to his core, but with time and various attempts to move every now and then, his energon flowed toward the surface. At first did nothing as the non-sentient fauna on his frame refused to touch his corrupted blood. The flora that came into contact with his energon often died or simply adapted to not accept any of it into their systems. Unicron's energon remained untouched save for by the most foolish, all of which perished or at least learned to avoid it if they lasted.

But of course, not all creatures on his frame were so cautious. The beginnings of humanity were curious beings, a trait that never faded from them even millennia later. They found safe haven in areas where Unicron's essence ran thick as no predators would dare take harbor in such areas. They lived in those locations for centuries, sometimes moving on and coming back, but never abandoning those relative areas of peace. They even forcefully began to have their crops grow in such a way that they had no choice but to adapt. And it was through these small things that humans gained their first adaptations to allow them to interact with their maker.

In the beginning they would constantly grow ill being so near to dark energon deposits hidden underground. But with generations passing, the illness came to be a rite of passage. The humans in areas with dark energon adapted to withstand its presence, so much so that the illness only hit them once as a child and then passed, growing less and less deadly with every generation. Through constant consumption of their crops tainted with the Unmaker's blood, their bodies grew stronger. Their minds sharpened and they gained unique senses that no other creatures on Earth had. The humans who were used to living around Unicron's energon deposits were made of sterner stuff than they counterparts and through the passing of time, comprised a great number of mythical figures in history later down the line.

Eventually in response to the march of progress, the humans who lived in such areas eventually grew tolerant enough that they no longer feared dark energon instinctually and instead found it safe. So many generations of associating it with protection from the horrors in the dark had them revere it. Thus once they had the means, small communities sprung up devoted to retrieving the dark crystals. This of course led to many more generations of premature death and horrid mutation among children as dark energon was dug up and experimented with. But humanity has always been adaptive, and so given time, they changed to handle it.

They could not find a use for the substance, but those who lived in areas filled with Unicron's essence for generations found themselves unable to leave. It was their safe haven, their home. Other human settlements sprang up around the globe, growing in size and marching onward, but the chaos touched never wandered. They remained, ever bound to the blood of their god. It is unclear exactly when it started, but at some point the emotions of safety they associated with dark energon warped into a worship of The Dark One. So many millennia of adaptation and so many centuries made the chaos touched able to hear whispers, to hold dark energon without fear and to carve it, care for it, and revere it without worry of death.

They were extraordinary in all things, to the point of being super human. They had adapted and from those many generations of death and lost young, they were stronger for it. The chaos touched humans were stronger, faster, more cunning, and possessed odd abilities that made no sense to humans without such adaptations. The Cybertronian origin of their Dark One infused them in such a way that the chaos touched were simply so different genetically at the end of the day that they could hardly be called human. They saw in ways their kin could never, heard things that other humans could not, and felt the spark of their god beneath their feet. They were beings that could not break the threshold to become something technorganic and almost Cybertronian, and thus they remained forever at the pinnacle, unable to evolve any further.

Sometimes Unicron would whisper to them, mistaking them for his own creations and telling them tales of the stars. Other times he would imbue them with his power, killing some but empowering others. He gifted them knowledge of the language of his brother's creations, he gave them visions of the stars, and in his daze he had them believing themselves to be but one step away from ascension.

However being akin to demi-gods amongst other humans was what ultimately led to their downfall. The chaos touched refused to leave their holy grounds for long, and so were destroyed when armies from their non-adapted kin came for them during a time of weakness. Their civilization came to an end, and those who were not adapted to the Unmaker simply never were able to rest easily in places where his blood ran thick. But of course, that was not the end of the chaos touched. The few survivors had children, they changed, and while their adaptations weakened in response to the mixing of blood, they were not all lost.

In the modern era, the blood of the chaos touch was thin and very frail, hardly present as most dark energon had long been hidden away. However a few bloodlines remained, surprisingly being quite prevalent in Jasper Nevada where the chaos touched unknowingly gathered on instinct due to the dark energon there. Humans are adaptive creatures, and so while most of their Herculean strength and Athenian wisdom was long gone, the different bloodlines specialized in what they could. Not a soul knew that these gifts were out of the ordinary simply because they had no application... not until Cybertronians arrived on Earth.

The children unknowingly were born into three of these old bloodlines, and therefore possessed power that had no use in an era without Cybertronian influence. But with Cybertronians on Earth, those gifts began to make an appearance, the most obvious of which being Rafael's unique ability. The team were immediately suspicious of Rafael's knack for understanding Bumblebee. The child claimed it to be binary speech, but Jack looked into it and the team did their own research and what Rafael claimed was simple was most certainly not. Bumblebee was speaking in Cybertronian Morse code, Autobot code specifically. There should have been no way for Rafael to know what he was saying, especially since the similarities between Earth and Cybertronians tongues were close to non-existent. It was a mess of impossibilities, but the Matrix did not say anything and Rafael never acted maliciously, and so while concerning, the team let it be.

When Rafael was struck with dark energon and poisoned, their concerns were brought back to light once more when he didn't keel over the moment the substance touched him. Even being injected with small doses could leave a Cybertronian dead on their pedes for deca-cycles if they weren't prepared for it. A human child managing to last more than a nanoklik was a miracle, one Ratchet did not try to abuse as he worked to heal the child before it was too late. Only after the incident did the team overlook Rafael's scans critically in search of some sort of indicator regarding what saved him. Organics were not the hardiest of creatures, it shouldn't have been possible... and yet it was. Looking at Rafael's DNA scans showed that he had minor mutations to his immune system and cognitive functions, but that was all. It didn't look like much, at least not immediately.

The team filed it away as more pressing issues came forward, but again they found themselves bewildered when Jack showed his quality in his ability to wield the key to Vector Sigma. By that point the team were looking for strange occurrences in the children and thus merely noted his acceptance of the key before moving on. Optimus was of course startled but did nothing to halt the boy as he moved to return the Unmaker to his slumber. Jack was not supposed to bond to the key, it shouldn't have been possible. At most he would be able to hold the relic for one of the team, but being bound to it? Again, it was an event that had the team scrambling to look at Jack's scans once all the chaos was over and Optimus was returned to them.

Once more they were left bewildered as looking at Jack's scans showed only minor mutations to his DNA that seemed to alter his base genetic code to make him more susceptible to Cybertronian technology. His alterations looked a great deal like the preliminary augmentations technorganic underwent before receiving implants. But again, it shouldn't have been possible for Jack to have those. Earth was a backwater world only just starting its pitiful attempt to reach the stars. Such technology and genetic augmentation was millennia ahead of them. Ratchet wanted to flip a table more than ever when they were forced to file Jack's case away too in response to Decepticon activity.

The concept of ignoring the strange mutations in their wards DNA went flying out the window when Miko managed to somehow get the Apex Armor to respond to her. The relic was designed for Cybertronian wielders, not organic children. Again, much like every other instance involving the children and Cybertronian tech, it shouldn't have been possible. The Apex Armor scanned the mind of its wielder in order to account for size and to be sure that the wielder was Cybertronian at all. How did she manage to trick a relic? Pure force of will? Considering it was MIKO messing around with the armor most of the team were half willing to ignore it and move on. The girl was an enigma on the best of days. But combined with Jack and Rafael being just as strangely in tune with Cybertronian tech, the team finally sat the children down and asked questions.

Ratchet: Rafael, how in the Allspark are you able to understand Bumblebee?

Rafael: Huh? I can hear what he is trying to say is all. Translating is not very difficult.

Arcee: Raf, you realize Bumblebee isn't speaking in your Morse code right?

Rafael: What? But it sounds like-

Optimus: Bumblebee speaks in Autobot binary code. His faux vocalizer turns Cybertronian digital glyphs into spoken sounds that only war veterans would be familiar with.

Rafael: So the fact that I understand him-?

Ratchet: We've looked at your DNA scans, you have strange mutations that don't make sense. You and the other two.

Jack: What? Me and Miko too?

Bulkhead: Yeah, its really weird. Your scans look like something straight out of a technorganic augmentation document.

Bumblebee: *Miko shouldn't be able to use the Apex armor at all*

Rafael: Really?!

Optimus: Bumblebee is correct. Jack, Miko, you two should not have been able to interact with our relics in any capacity. And Rafael should have been killed the moment he came into contact with dark energon.

Ratchet: The fact that Rafael understands us, survived dark energon, and combine that with your ability to use our relics brings us to one question.

Ratchet: What did your ancestors interact with in order to change your very DNA to be closer to ours?

The children were rightfully concerned but after receiving the knowledge of their odd genetic background, they did some digging together. Within the next week, they arrived at base with a few family heirlooms and some documents that had half the team doing a double take.

In her hands Miko held a small Predacon fang. That alone was not too startling considering such things could be found on Earth, but was concerning was her total lack of concern for it. Cybertronian components had a natural distasteful signature that kept most from touching the corpses of their fallen, even after the energon was long gone. And yet Miko played with the fang as if it meant nothing and pulled up her family history, showing that her ancestors likely came from the region of Earth that supposedly housed and Autobot base during the golden age of Cybertron. Everything lined up and the team could only assume that her ancestors adapted to become naturally unconcerned with Cybertronians and even size them up in some method of survival instinct akin to the honey badger.

Rafael for his part had a small crystal idol that he said was a family heirloom from back several centuries. Somehow his family never lost it and even prized it above their own lives at times. The idol simply never managed to be taken as others seemed disgusted by it and his ancestors were almost obsessed with the stone. It was old, but looking closer showed that it was a long dormant shard of dark energon whittled down with increadible skill into the shape of what looked to be the general outline of Unicron's frame. Compared to Miko, Rafael's heirloom almost had the team raising their weapons on instinct. He held his idol so carefully as if to keep it from even touching the very air and his eyes glazed over as he presented it. Looking at his family records showed that his ancestors most likely lingered near old dark energon deposits, and that had the team looking at the boy in poor veiled concern.

Then there was Jack who had no relic of his own but instead showed a written down version of a song that had been orally passed down his family line since long before proper records existed. Looking over the lyrics and the strange glyphs that Jack claimed his family had always been taught how to draw as a simple children's game had the team gawking. Once more, his family history showed his ancestors to have been near a dark energon deposit for much of their history and seeing the song... every single one of the team felt their spark flutter in slight fear. Just how long had humanity been exposed to the Unmaker? For how long had they been influenced?

Hail to the Lord of Dark,

For he protects us and gives us visions of starlight,

We were born of his will,

And from his will we are made pure,

Strength of giants,

Wisdom of ancients,

Stories of great beings made of living metal,

Hail to He Who Is Shadows,

Let him guide our sight,

May he heal us,

Grace us Oh Creator with thy gifts,

We herald thee,

Wake from thy rest,

Humanity was playing a game they weren't even aware they were involved in. Somehow they had adapted, they had survived, and now they had gifts they never should have had.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #team prime #tfp kids #miko nakadai #jack darby #rafael esquivel #unicron #again unicron with his dabbling #and humanity being the adaptive monsters we are #poor cybertronians are so fragging confused

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