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#♥️ .nyx’s asks/questions
un-heavenlytrioasks · 10 months
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Hi all! This account is mainly going to be use as an ask blog. Which while I can’t really draw I’ll be using Gacha club instead! It’ll be a trio ask blog, meaning you’ll be able to ask 3 peeps questions! All 3 are original oc’s so plz don’t copy them!
Okay so introductions time!
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Karma: she’s a fallen angel that “fell” after saving a certain demon from being “disposed” of. She’s around 120 but surprisingly still looks fairly young 💜🖤
Nyx: he’s the demon that karma saved but is still kinda salty about needing help. He’s about 122 and while he kinda finds karmas nature annoying he can’t help but get flustered when she’s around 🤍🩶
Opal: she’s nyx’s twin sister, she loves all things fashion and horror. She’ll often make dresses and outfits that include elements from her favorite horror movies/series. She’s 122 and doesn’t exactly love the idea of an angel being that close to her brother. 🖤♥️
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juliafied · 1 year
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I posted 1,725 times in 2022
51 posts created (3%)
1,674 posts reblogged (97%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@hexcore-juggler
@hanarinhightown
@nerdierholler
@miindli
@viscariadraws
I tagged 616 of my posts in 2022
#mutuals write - 102 posts
#q - 97 posts
#arcane - 78 posts
#fic rec - 57 posts
#thanzag - 57 posts
#fenris - 43 posts
#hades game - 40 posts
#fenhawke - 31 posts
#♥️♥️♥️ - 28 posts
#vi - 28 posts
Longest Tag: 140 characters
#hawke frequently writing letters to varric to keep him updated with every last thing of course claiming it's only for his story fodder (lie)
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
what a drag to love you like I do
Fandom: Hades
Pairing: Thanatos/Zagreus
Rating: Teen
Chapter(s): 1/?
Words: 3317
AO3
Summary:
"You're all it takes for me to break a promise, silly me to fall in love with you."
All the times Thanatos didn't realize he was falling in love with his best friend, until it was too late.
Thanatos is four, or four hundred – the mortal years mean little to the chthonic gods and denizens of the Underworld, but he feels very young yet, compared to Nyx’s eternity – when the prince is born. He does not know what a birthing entails, and when he hears the little god’s wails echo through the halls of the House he tugs on his mother’s skirts to ask if this is how he came to be also, and whether it is very painful to be born.
Nyx laughs quietly, lips closed in a secret smile. “No, my child. You were plucked from Darkness itself and appeared as you are.”
A story he has heard before, and he is too young yet to question it. Another wail begins, and he tugs a little harder on the velvet in his hand. Nyx glances towards the king and queen’s chambers.
“Our queen’s mortal blood runs strong, but worry not, my child. The new prince is not in pain.”
Soon, the halls quiet once more, and Thanatos lets his hand slip down the velvet to his side. His mother watches the doors to the royal chambers, her own hand worrying at the gold trim of her gown.
The door flies open and the usually thunderous Lord Hades emerges, a terrible look in his Styx-red eyes. The wail that comes from the room now is one of anguish, a sound that no child can make.
“Go find your brother, Thanatos,” his mother says, clipped and stern.
“But—”
“Please,” and Thanatos is suddenly afraid, for he has never heard his mother’s voice tremble. She quickly flattens her cool palm over his hair, a habitual gesture meant to tame the wispy white tendrils and comfort at once, but it is not comforting now. “Go.”
She hesitates, then in a swirl of skirts, she is gone.
--
Though the birth of the prince is Thanatos’ first brush with his own purpose, he has yet to meet its finality. So, Zagreus lives, but the queen vanishes, her memory becoming more of a shade to Thanatos than any of the ones that wander the House. Thanatos senses his twin’s jealousy at Nyx’s divided attention, but he finds himself more than happy to play brother to the prince. The House even starts calling him Nyx’s child, and some grow to believe this. Thanatos does not. Though he does not remember her face, Thanatos still remembers the echoes of the queen’s wails through the halls of the House of Hades.
He does not find it difficult to share everything with Zagreus, toys, sweets, stories, secrets. Even Mort, though Zagreus always carefully tucks him under Thanatos’ pillow just before they both fall asleep on the rug next to Thanatos’ bed in his mother’s room, tiny wooden hydras and shiny metal tops scattered about. Thanatos sees the question in Zagreus’ eyes when eventually Megara comes along to play, too old now for such games but indulging them after they tug on the tip of her fledgling wing enough times. As Battie battles Mort, the prince almost asks.
 Why didn’t Nyx make one for me?
Battie wins, and the question doesn’t leave his lips. Zagreus has never been one to whine, and his face brightens soon after, once he brings the hydra into the fight, wooden bones rattling. It’s good, because Thanatos doesn’t have an answer. But he remembers.
30 notes - Posted April 24, 2022
#4
Face to Face
Fandom: Hades
Pairing: Thanatos/Zagreus
Rating: Mature
Chapter(s): 1/4
Words: 1088
AO3
Summary:
Thanatos can't remember the last time he went on a date that wasn't with his email inbox, so Charon sets about rectifying the situation by making him a profile on a dating app. Sifting through guys who fish and tourists looking for one night stands, Thanatos comes across his childhood best friend, who he hasn't spoken to since their strange parting as teenagers. Thanzag modern AU, online dating.
Thanatos is swiping idly on the latest dating app when he spots him.
He can’t believe he let Charon convince him to make a profile - yes, he knows that’s that how his brother met Hermes, and he’s aware of how great they are together, and of course somewhere at the back of his mind he’d like to spend his nights doing something after work other than doom-scrolling until his too-exhausted eyes fall shut, but he’d been resistant.
But Charon had picked through Thanatos’ social media for some less moody pictures of him, gotten Hermes to take some more with a wink, and typed furiously away before shoving his phone back into his hands.
Thanatos, 25, consulting, looking for something (or someone) to do after work, read the description under a photo of him from university at some party or other, back in the days when he didn’t have to go on apps to meet people. He’d removed the “or someone” with a groan and a blush as Hermes’ eyebrows waggled in his direction.
It’d been fun, of course, to swipe through the app’s dubiously appealing offerings, silently judging some, reluctantly admiring others. There were the guys holding up some kind of fish in their pictures, the sunburnt ones “in Greece for 2 weeks, looking for fun”, the baristas, the artists, the lawyers.
It’d been fun, until he’d swiped right on a tanned, muscly guy who claimed to be manning a sailboat in Santorini for the summer, just to reveal Zagreus’ toothy grin and mismatched eyes, staring right at him.
Keep reading on AO3
33 notes - Posted September 8, 2022
#3
two shadows, reaching
Fandom: Hades, The Song of Achilles
Pairing: Achilles/Patroclus
Rating: Teen
Words: 980
AO3
The moment Achilles’ feet strike warm Elysium earth, his heart starts racing.
He passes through chamber upon chamber, cool waters of the Lethe threading through each one, shades armed with bows and spears and longswords wandering and whispering as he passes. He suspects these are the ones who have given Zagreus so much grief, but they do not bother him, for he is one of their own.
He has lingered too long in the House to feel himself young enough for such foolishness, but as he tears through the soft grass, his eyes fill with tears, and into his throat jumps up that old rage that he’d though long forgotten. He blinks them away, thinking instead of Patroclus as a boy, catching the figs that Achilles is juggling, eyes not those of an admirer but of a friend. Patroclus as a young man, shuddering into his arms in Scyros, lazy pleasure pooling in his collarbones, the soft skin of his neck.
Patroclus as the warrior he’d never been, the warrior Achilles had forced him to be, Achilles’ spear in his hand, Achilles’ armour on his back, Achilles’ death close behind him.
He stops to rest, his hands hitting cool stone, his knees soft grass, though he hasn’t felt physical exertion since he came to the Underworld. Can he be forgiven? The young prince had relayed Patroclus’ words to him, risk it all, he’d said. He can imagine Patroclus’ soft lips forming the words, lips he’d delighted in a thousand times, the way they’d laughed and spoke and chided him, even.
By the Gods, to hear his voice speak something new, to add to the ever-reverberating memories…
Achilles steels himself. He will face even his wrath, if it comes to it, his hatred, even though Zagreus has assured him otherwise. His indifference will sting more than Paris’ arrow through his chest, but he will face it, nonetheless.
Fear is for the weak.
More shades glance at him as he makes his way through this chamber, nudging one another as they whisper. How long has it been, he wonders, since he caused the carnage that won the war? Does Odysseus now find ways to enact his schemes amongst the exalted of Elysium? He’d sent Hector here himself, but had Paris, his own killer, followed yet? How many, of the shades around him, had been dispatched here by his own hand?
If Agamemnon walks the halls of Elysium, the old rage whispers, Achilles should like to send him to the depths of Tartarus himself.
But he is beholden to more pressing matters – as he approaches the golden gates that mark the entryways to the next chambers, a smaller passage opens in the lush hedge between them, and something in his heart tells him this is the way. He ducks down to push through, branches soft as he pushes them away from his hands, and then—
The smell of lichen fills his nose, earthy and perfumed, the kind that grows in warm caves fed by mountain air, though the space he enters is open and airy and bereft of stone, the light above not quite moon, not quite sun. The waters of the Lethe flow around a warrior’s statue obscured by tall greenery and fill the air with a familiar sweetness, like the smell of his clothes after being left out in the strong mountain sun.
Patroclus, his heart sings. On the islet up ahead, there is the sound of someone rising.
His feet do not so much pound off the earth as it propels him forward. He sees his full lips first, trembling but upturned, then the curve of his bronze cheek – the one he has stroked, and kissed, and brushed his own cheek against a thousand times. His hair remains long and dark and unruly, his shoulders strong and full as they were in life, or even in death.
And his eyes – grief and joy twinned, piercing through to Achilles’ heart, though he no longer has one, the heart that has always been Patroclus’ in life, in death, in afterlife.
“Patroclus,” Achilles says, and it is not enough, but his throat has closed to other words, so instead, he steps forward.
It is as if the world has opened up around them, when Patroclus takes Achilles in his arms, and they are up on that mountaintop once again, the wounds of their shared fate far away in both time and place. He cradles the back of Patroclus’ head, fingers tangling in the spot behind his ear where his hair never lies flat, tracing the shoulders that he has loved since they were thin and narrow, the muscles of his beautiful chest.
Something had broken within him that day when Patroclus’ body was dragged off the battlefield, divested of the armour that caused his death. He has had an eternity to dwell on the guilt that has eaten him from the inside, with only his duties in service to Lord Hades to distract him. But the wound seems small, in light of the gift that Zagreus has given him now. Whatever words there are to be said between them can now be spoken, and though he may never earn his forgiveness, he has an eternity to keep trying, and it is enough.
“Philtatos, my Patroclus,” he whispers again, and his lips meet his cheek, the conch of his ear, the pride of his brow, and finally his mouth. He tastes of the ambrosia that Zagreus has pressed into his hands, of figs so ripe the juice runs down his fingers, of his greatest dream and greatest regret, and of him. He who stood by him, and challenged him, and cherished him until his dying breath. His Patroclus, the best of the Myrmidons and of all people.
“Achilles,” his beloved pulls away to breathe in his ear, and he is made whole once again.
58 notes - Posted April 10, 2022
#2
There have been a lot of arguments over the years about why we never find out Goncharov’s first name - the loss of his identity beyond Goncharov the hardened killer, etc - but in the last part of the film, when Katya leans in and whispers in his ear just as he’s dying at her feet, she must be saying his name.
In Russian, to address someone by their last name is very formal and even reinforces a hierarchy, like a professor addressing their students, symbolic of Katya being the authority, the mind and the drive behind their operation. Moreover, for most of the film, Katya and Goncharov’s attention is focused elsewhere than on the intimacy that they so clearly share, on the operation in which they are more like colleagues, and on Sofia and Andrey, but in death, Katya truly sees him as he is: the man she grew up with, her sweet Kolya or Seryezha or Valya.
And it’s not for us to know or see him in that way. We only get a glimpse. It’s emblematic of the one of the film’s themes: how utterly terrifying, difficult it is to be known, and loved anyway.
131 notes - Posted November 22, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
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272 notes - Posted December 4, 2022
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noirbriar · 2 years
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What made you love FFXV/Kingsglaive first? What makes you love it now? ♥️
Oh wow this is a roller coaster question because I didnt like ff versus 13, the very first concept drop of it. i did not like anything about it or feel it worth the extra attention from a creator point of view. the characters, i couldnt relate or feel anything special at that point as it did not feel like the final fantasy that i knew. it was only until i heard of the change in directors and heard the ost as well as the omen trailer that i decided to give xv a shot.
I fell in love with the boys for sure especially after the brotherhood anime. prompto my dear sweet boy, my heart. and then theres Cor and i am still mad that they dropped him from the team like, how messed up was development for this to happen?so many characters wasted.
Did not watch kingsglaive until i waited for the dlcs. I do not have great memories of games going into films.However, Nyx had me at the first scene. yes im that weak lol
dont get me wrong theres alot of wtf moments i have with this game and you can very clearly see the developmental flaws from SE and i blame marketing and their higher ups for this because xv had so much potential. that is what pissed me off. and dont get me started on luna. her character and story was screwed when she had so much wasted potential. dawn of the future dug a deeper hole as well after her canceled dlc. she is a strong woman but they just didnt deliver. kingsglaive she was still alright but in-game was…urgh. that was when i dropped xv sadly.
the only reason i came back because i pop in once in awhile for fics and im surprised to find more content for these lovely characters after so long that it feels like hot chocolate on a cold sad day :,)
thank you for the ask! sorry if i ranted so much it got lengthy!
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whumpwriterforlife · 2 years
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CorNyx with “Please don’t cry”, “Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?”, or “Give me attention?” please? If they interest you. ♥️
Prompt: "Give me attention?"
Nyx huffed, curled on the couch with a pillow hugged to his chest as he stared at Cor.
Cor ignored him. Nyx wasn’t entirely sure if the man was even aware of his presence, he hadn’t even glanced at him ever since he had settled down at the kitchen table to work on some reports. It was an unwritten rule that work should stay at work, and not be brought home. They had made an exception when Nyx had caught the flu and Cor had started working from home to look after him, but Nyx was better now! Well, technically he was still on sick leave but he wasn’t actually sick anymore. Not really — just easily tired with a lingering cough.
Nyx pouted, sliding down an inch. Cor had been at work already, and it was nearly 9 PM. There was no reason for him to be working. Nyx wanted attention. He was feeling more than a little ignored. He grumbled under his breath and kicked Cor’s shirt off the couch. Served him right.
Cor glanced at him.
Nyx huffed.
Cor raised his eyebrow in a silent question, his lips twitching in amusement.
“You’re working,” Nyx said accusingly.
“I am,” Cor agreed. “And you’re being needlessly evil to my shirt.”
Nyx pressed his face into the pillow. “You were ignoring me."
Cor squinted, head tilting as he tried to figure out what the muffled words meant. “What?”
Nyx stuck out his tongue. “Come here and I might tell you.”
“Oh?” Cor smirked as he closed the laptop. “Well maybe I’ll just have to do that then.”
Nyx peered at him from the top of the pillow with suspicion as he came over. The pillow was tugged out of his hands and dropped to the floor before a soft kiss was pressed to his lips. Nyx pretended to pout but it was damn near impossible with the way Cor was looking at him. Another kiss made him turn into mush.
“So what was it that you said?” Cor asked as he leaned back.
“You were ignoring me,” Nyx told him and pulled Cor down on the couch.
“I was?” Cor had a playful smile on his face as Nyx straddled his hips and captured him in yet another kiss.
“Give me attention.”
Cor laughed. Before Nyx could do anything, he had flipped their positions. “Isn’t that what I’m doing?”
“I don’t know, is it?” Nyx asked, a bit breathless.
“I think it is,” Cor said and leaned down. His lips brushed against Nyx’s but moved away at the last second to instead leave kisses along his jawline. “But maybe I need to put more effort into it, prove it to you.”
“Maybe,” Nyx agreed, eyes twinkling.
Cor kissed him heatedly. “Maybe.”
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