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forestdeath1 · 1 month

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Lily and James — the alchemical Queen and King. Lily is the main symbol of the entire saga.

In Harry Potter, there are two levels - the mundane and the symbolic. On the mundane level, Lily is a character with her own strengths and weaknesses. On the symbolic level, Lily is the main symbol of the entire saga. Perhaps that's why there's so little talk about her because symbolically Lily is what everyone strives for, everyone searches for but cannot find. Harry learns more about Lily only before the final battle, and there's a reason for that.

It's no secret that HP books are heavily laden with alchemical and Christian symbolism. I'm not religious, and to me, all these symbols are just cultural codes that have had a significant influence on almost all classic literature and art.

Philipp Otto Runge, Chagall, Goethe — they're all alchemical codes

Firstly, alchemy is not about literally turning lead into gold, it's a path of spiritual development, a path of transformation, a "hero's journey," the journey of the Son returning to the Father. Alchemical transformation is described in the text "The Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz." This is the third manifesto of the Rosicrucian Brotherhood.

So, lilies are a very ancient symbol.

According to Jewish legends, the lily grew in Eden just at the time of Eve's temptation by the devil and could be defiled by him, but even amid temptation, it remained as pure as it was, and no dirty hand dared to touch it. In early medieval depictions, Christ was placed against a backdrop of lilies or in the lily flower, seen as a symbol of the Virgin Mary. The orange lily often symbolizes the blood of Christ.

Symbolically, Lily is the love of God, a divine spark, and the blood of Christ itself, which was shed in the name of redemption and salvation to atone for the sins of all humanity. And what is the blood of Christ? In Christian tradition, the blood of Jesus Christ is a symbol of the life-giving and saving spirit of God.

By the way, lilies and roses were often confused in translations, and symbolically they are the same. Many suspected that the Rosicrucians' rose is a stylized version of the Egyptian and Indian flowering lotus, and the lotus has often been considered a water lily (they are different, but symbolically they merged). But calling the main character Rose would be too dull and obvious a reference.

Lily - symbolically, she is both the mother of Christ and the Spirit of God herself, the bearer of divine love, to which all seekers are drawn. This is not the only meaning, but for now, it's enough.

God is love, says John the Apostle. (Remus John Lupin, hehe. It was absolutely unnecessary to know his middle name. It's intentionally inserted because each of the marauders, except Sirius, by name signifies one of the disciples closest to Christ. Sirius is a separate story, he signifies something completely different.)

And who is drawn? Well, primarily we see two - James and Snape.

One of the most important things we learn about James is that he's a deer. The deer is a well-known symbol. In myths and folk beliefs, the deer was associated with the soul's aspiration to heaven and purification.

"As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God" Ps. 42: 1

In the Alexandrian "Physiologus," there's an ancient enmity between the stag and the serpent. The serpent hides from the foe in the clefts of the earth, but the stag, with the help of water, draws out the serpent and defeats it. (Water has always been a symbol of the serpent, even in Slytherin's element water, but the stag fights the serpent not with ordinary water but with the water of baptism. The snake has another important meaning for alchemy, but more on that later.)

Snape belongs to the Serpent, to secret knowledge, occult knowledge, "philosophical" reason, dark magic, which has always been contrary to the divine nature in Christian understanding and originated from the devil. James belongs to the Lion and the Deer.

The Lion is a typical alchemical symbol. Also, the Red Lion is Christ. Gryffindor embodies the soul's aspiration towards light and transformation, towards salvation. By the way, St. Godric (the hermit) also had his own pet deer, which he saved.

The deer seeks love, the spirit of God, the divine spark, God Himself, and in this persistent pursuit is shown James's path, as a seeker and as an alchemist. The Potters — if not alchemists themselves, then at least from the lineage of alchemists — the Peverells (The symbol of the Deathly Hallows is an alchemical-masonic symbol). And this means that the Potters are at least seekers; in their souls, there is a desire to find the divine and undergo transformation. The Potters have a strong hatred for the 'serpentine essence' of evil, and this is what needs to be transformed. (By the way, the graveyard is located near St. Jerome's Church. Besides translating the Bible into Latin, Jerome also healed and tamed a lion).

Masonic-alchemical symbol. Symbol of the philosopher's stone. Symbol of the Deathly Hallows. Solve et coagula is a principle of alchemy meaning "dissolve and coagulate".

An alchemist is a gardener, and this is another interesting reference to James and Lily. The way James tries to find an approach to Lily is an alchemical process. The alchemist tends to the Garden. In Vrisvik's Great Work (the Magnum Opus), it appears as the Garden of the Wise. The Gates to the Garden of the Wise for the Chosen become the process of dissolving "our Substance." James manages to approach Lily only when he dissolves his Ego. The Ego is the main enemy on the path to transformation.

The tradition of "hermetic gardening," that is, "cultivating the flowers of Wisdom in one's garden," becomes a leading line in alchemical symbolism. James cultivates wisdom.

While Snape cultivates "dark knowledge," although his soul also strives for light and love. But Snape is still too captured by his Ego, too captivated by base emotions, a thirst for revenge, recognition, or power, a craving for "secret knowledge." He cannot resist it, no matter how much he may strive for Lily, for the divine transformation of his spirit, and James, still dwelling in his Ego, instead of showing mercy to Snape, pushes him further away. The stag fights the serpent, but God is love. Ultimately, Snape temporarily closes off the paths of alchemical transformation for himself.

The Rebis is the end product of the alchemical magnum opus or great work. The lion must dissolve the serpent. Hermetic gardening. The alchemical wedding: the Queen and the King.

But besides all this, the deer is also a symbol of eternal renewal and victory over death ("The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death" 1 Corinthians 15:26 ). A symbol of Christ. His constantly renewing antlers represent eternal life.

In the original Greek of the New Testament, the names Jacob and James are variants of the same root—Yaaqob. James is an active force, a seeker, an investigator, a supplanter. James the Great was of a rather impulsive character, but everyone was also amazed by his courage, he was the only one who acknowledged Christ as the Messiah. And he is the only apostle whose death is described in the New Testament. He dies at the hands of King Herod, a cynical and evil king who was willing to murder babies for his purpose. James also dies at the hands of Voldemort, who is willing to kill a baby for his purpose.

Moreover, it was Saint James who was considered the heavenly patron of alchemists. His tomb was located in Santiago de Compostela, which was the oldest center of adepts. It was there, in 1378, after twenty years of unsuccessful attempts to decipher the Book of Hieroglyphic Figures, that Nicolas Flamel, the most famous alchemist of the Middle Ages, went. By the way, Shell Cottage... the scallop shell is a symbol of the apostle James and the "trademark" of the Way of St. James. Shell Cottage is also alchemical. It is there that Harry sees the symbol of the Deathly Hallows around Lovegood's neck.

James is a seeker. Lily is a symbol of the divine spirit, sparks, transformation. That to which all must ultimately come, that which must change in our world in the image of God. But for now, our world is seized by evil, by the antichrist. To defeat death means to defeat the antichrist in one's soul.

James finds Lily. The Soul finds the Spirit. The Spirit descends into the Soul. The King and Queen marry—and a new life is born, another hero capable of defeating the evil that has engulfed the world, capable of cleansing the world of evil. The connection between Harry and Christ is no secret to anyone.

The power of love conquers death. A rune appears on Harry's forehead—Sowilo rune—the victory rune, the sun rune, the irreversible rune. It symbolically serves as the key to the world of Alfheim—the world of the light elves, that is, the bright ideas, the prototypes of the buddhial plane, the ideality in this world.

The key to God. Harry becomes marked. His scar is a reminder to him that he came into this world not just by chance, but to destroy evil. And coming into this world, materializing, a person invariably receives a particle of the antichrist within himself. That's how this world works. Evil is in the soul of each of us, and through the Great Work, a person must purify himself.

And none can live while the other survives, because they mutually exclude each other by their very nature. Christ and antichrist.

But Harry has a difficult path ahead, the path of the Great Work before he can achieve victory. And that will be the theme of all 7 books, 7 years — exactly 7 days is the duration of The Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz for the transformation oh his soul, for victory over death.

#jily #jily meta #hp meta #harry potter meta #lily evans #james potter #lily potter #harry potter

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ravenofthefandoms · 1 year

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The Lucky Stag: Part 3

Word Count: 4621 (oopsies)

Pairing: Sandor Clegane x reader

Characters: Sandor Clegane, original character (Marlys), original character (mentioned) (Jeremiah Bryne), Morgan (mentioned), Lem (mentioned), Gatins (mentioned), Brotherhood without Banners, Thoros of Myr, Beric Dondarrion

Warnings: some gore (it’s Game of Thrones), some mild angst, some mild fluff

A/N: Hi :) sorry for disappearing but life has been hectic. I’ve been wanting to write again, especially after House of the Dragon. Hopefully, people still wanna see more of this. Hopefully, for a time, I’ll have more regular updates and posts. As I said a while back, there are some Podrick x reader posts I have brewing plus some ideas for House of the Dragon. This one isn’t super exciting but I’ve got some plans for the next few chapters that should get the blood pumping if you will

Tags (let me know if you would like to be removed since it’s been so long): @anita-e-taylor, @my-bitch-loki @orange-sherbxrt

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters outside of my own original characters. The others belong to George R.R. Martin. I do not own any of the gifs used. They belong to the original creators.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

You had been walking for ages, or what felt like it at least. Walking where, you did not know. Sandor had muttered to himself while he held you outside of the burning tavern, something about finding the men so he could tear them to bloody fucking pieces. Unfortunately, you had nothing but the singed, smoky clothes on your back and the aching hole in your chest left to your name. You knew, in reality, that it had only been a day and a half since your life had turned to ash but time no longer felt as it did before. Your eyes always felt dry, and your voice caught in your throat more often than not. Sandor could count the words you’ve spoken on his two hands.

On the first night, your friend, Marlys, was gracious enough to let you stay with her and her husband. She insisted that it was her duty as your friend, however. Another thing she tried to insist on was you sleeping in her and her husband’s bed, which he had heartily agreed to. You refused, though. Instead, you curled on the hay floor near the fireplace, Sandor sitting against the wall near your feet.

Marlys was truly a kind woman, and you felt badly now for the way you were when you stayed there that night. You supposed that you shouldn’t, considering your grief was fresh and intense. The next morning, you and Sandor broke your fast with Marlys and her husband before they gave you enough food for a day of travel and a skin of water. Their kindness made tears well in your eyes. As you said your goodbyes, Sandor waited outside for you.

Your childhood friend pulled you into a tight embrace. Tears spilled onto each others’ shoulders as she whispered her condolences. After a night of rest, you realized that you weren’t the only one who grieved your brother’s death, and held onto Marlys as tightly as she held onto you. “I’ll miss you, (Y/N). Promise you’ll come back someday.” You nodded in response, not trusting your voice to be steady.

Letting go, you walked out to a patiently waiting Sandor. “Ready?” He knew what your real answer was, the same as anyone else’s would be. Your nod was good enough for him though. With one last tearful look towards probably the one place you wish you could stay, you began walking.

The first day of walking had been largely uneventful. Sandor led you with, surprisingly, gentle hands. Whether on your elbow, on the small of your back, or even holding your own in his, he never let go of you until you needed a break or it was time to set up camp. He found a clearing off the side of the path you had been traveling. With no ax, he was unable to cut any logs to build a proper fire, and instead gathered twigs and sticks from the surrounding copse of trees. As he gathered the firewood, you sat and prepared the area where the fire would blaze. Stones from a nearby stream were set in a circle to keep the flames contained. You handed it over to Sandor when he returned. He began to stack the wood, stuffing fallen leaves and tall grass into the center.

By the time you sat and made yourself as comfortable as you could on the hard ground, Sandor had the tinder smoking, then smoldering, and finally beginning to burn. As the fire slowly grew, Sandor moved to sit next to you. His eyes watched you carefully, unsure what to do or say. He had never been good with words, most of them crass and rude. He didn’t want to be crass or rude with you though. When it came to you, Sandor wanted to make you smile and laugh, to see the glimmer in your eye when you spoked animatedly, to keep you warm during the chilly nights, to-... He shook his head slightly, needing to derail this trail of thinking. As odd yet enjoyable this sensation was, there were priorities to be dealt with first. He needed to track down those sons of bitches that hurt you so and make them regret ever being born.

“Sandor,” you murmured. He looked down and grunted. “Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me.” He suddenly found his hands, fiddling with a small twig, to be much more interesting.

“Don’ thank me. I’ve been more trouble than not,” he muttered. A soft chuckle, more of a sigh than anything, fell from your lips and you shook your head, almost as if he had made some silly joke. Pride swelled in his heart for a moment – hearing any sort of sweet sound from you was a blessing. You didn’t respond to his words, only scooted closer to him as a chill began to creep into the air. Your shoulders grazed his, body heat warming you as much as the fire in front of you. “You should get some rest.” His eyes flicked down to you, the smallest of bitter smiles gracing your lips.

“Aye, I should.” You looked up at him; the lack of, well, everything in your eyes made him uneasy. He knew as well as you that rest would not come easy, if at all. Your eyes returned to the flames, your gaze becoming unfocused in them. A long moment lasted before you spoke again. “I don’t know what to do anymore.” Your voice was soft, barely more than a whisper. Sandor kept his gaze fixated on your face, waiting for you to continue. “I’ve always known what needed to be done. Cook the venison, bake the bread, serve the ale, keep the tavern running, watch over my-... watch over my brother.” The last few words came out slightly strangled, as though you choked on them. “I am lost now.”

Another long silence fell between you before Sandor reached over and took one of your hands in his own. “You’re not lost. You’re not broken neither.” Your gaze lifted to meet his own. “You’re strong. And I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll protect you, if you let me.” You were able to offer him a small, watery smile along with a quick nod.

“Thank you, Sandor.” Your eyes returned to the flames for a moment longer before you closed them. “I want nothing more,” you said softly. Again, silence fell over the two of you, nothing to hear aside from the crackling of the fire. Sandor was unsure how long he stared into the dancing flames before your head nodded onto his shoulder and soft snores filled the air.

The next morning, you awoke with a start, images from the past few days haunting your dreams. The sun was just beginning to climb over the horizon, though the chill of night still hung in the air. A shiver ran down your spine as your body began to wake from its slumber. Your tailbone and legs ached as you stood and made your way to the stream. The water was cold and brisk. Dipping your hands in the babbling brook made your arms break out into gooseflesh. You cupped the water in your hands, gently bringing it to your face. The freezing shock was necessary, you felt, before you began on your journey again. When you returned to the fire, Sandor’s eyes were open and sought out your approaching figure.

He said nothing, something you were accustomed to after a few months of knowing him. Sandor would never be considered a particularly chatty man. However, sitting in silence with the large man brought you a sense of peace and calm.

You nodded once at the question in his eyes, and he rose to his feet. There was nothing for you to gather or put away, only the still-smoldering embers of the night’s fire. Sandor kicked dirt over it, if only to ensure that the flames would stay smothered rather than springing back to life. Once again, he guided you to the path with sure steps. There was a bloodlust in his eyes as he tracked the men that he was intent on killing. It didn’t scare you, strangely enough. For once, it made you feel… protected. You couldn’t say that you remember a time when you felt protected. Your brother, gods rest his soul, was strong and protected you from men who were too handsy or too violent. There was always the silent agreement, however, that you were the one that protected your brother. You raised him, cared for him, and made sure he grew to be the man that he was beginning to be. This sensation from Sandor, it lifted a weight off of your shoulders that you had not realized was there. A shadow that had hung from you for as long as you could remember.

Gently, you shook these thoughts from your head. You instead focused on the path ahead, watching and wary of your surroundings. Many hours passed, early morning turning into early afternoon. As though he was indeed a hound picking up a scent, Sandor stopped suddenly. He turned to your left. You turned as well, trying to see or hear or smell whatever it was that he was sensing. After a few moments, you could hear the sound of raucous laughing, as well as cursing. It was enough for Sandor to tug you along gently, despite his long, angry strides.

You walked just behind Sandor, the sound of laughter growing as you continued to walk closer. An ax laid next to a stump and a pile of chopped logs. From where you stood, you could see four men, all somewhat familiar, sitting around a fire. Sandor stopped, looking back at you slightly with a warning in your eyes. It was something you understood quickly. You nodded and took a step back.

That bloodlust was back in his eyes, if it ever left. He grabbed that ax and began stalking towards the group of men. By the time they realized what was happening, it was too late. Sandor swung his ax with a yell at the first man, lopping off his head with ease. It was at this moment that you turned around, hand pressed to your mouth to keep the bile down. It wasn’t that you had a sudden guilt about the silent agreement between you and Sandor to avenge your brother. In fact, you quite enjoyed the ferocity with which he swung his weapon. What made your stomach churn was the memory that it returned to you: your brother’s corpse. The grisly nature of the scene unfolding was something that you found you just could not watch. Squelching flesh as it was maimed by steel still reached your ears. Your eyes closed quickly, taking deep breaths to keep your stomach calm. As the final man whimpered in pain, you could hear Sandor speaking to him. You weren’t sure what Sandor said, his voice too soft to be carried over the wind. You did, however, hear the dying man scream at the giant before him.

All you could hear was further grumbling from Sandor. You did not open your eyes nor did you remove your hand from your mouth. The crunch of leaves and sticks stopped behind you. “It’s over now, little flower.” His hand gently came up to grab your wrist, pulling it away from your face. Your eyes opened slowly, looking up to meet Sandor’s own gaze.

“Did I scare ya?” There was something in his voice that had you shaking your head quickly.

“No, Sandor. I just… I couldn’t watch.” He nodded softly. Your hand drifted up slowly to rest on his scarred cheek. “Thank you.” Your voice was more frail than you expected or wanted it to be. “They met the ends they deserved.”

He nodded his agreement.

“Aye, they did. There are still more. The one who led them, with the yellow cloak. We find him, and your brother will have been avenged.” You nodded, looking up at him with a fierceness in your eyes that made his heart stutter a moment. With no more need to stay, the two of you continued back on your journey.

Surprisingly, you did not walk as far as you thought you would have to before the sounds of men reached your ears again. It was distinctive this time, and much closer than the last group of men had been. Sandor looked down at you, nodded, and then headed towards the noise, ax ready to attack.

To both your own and Sandor’s surprise, the men you sought were standing on barrels with nooses around their necks. A handful of men, no more than ten, stood around them, and one sat above on the tree branch. Swords were partially drawn in caution, until one of the men spoke.

“Clegane.” He was a handsome man, the one who spoke. An eye patch covered his right eye, a crop of sandy hair cropped close to his head. If it weren’t for the setting you found yourself in, you would think him to be some dashing knight that you, as did many of the other girls in your village, dreamt of being swept away by. You stayed close to Sandor, however, almost hiding behind him as a child does behind their mother’s skirts.

“The fuck you doing here?” Another man asked. This one had long hair gathered into a knot atop his head and a deep red cloak hanging around his shoulders. His gaze flicked to you, seemingly amused.

Sandor pointed at the soon-to-be hanged men. “Chasing them.” His hand, still gripping yours, tensed slightly. “You?”

The second man to speak looked back at the men before responding. “Hanging them.” He seemed almost bemused in the way he spoke, as though it were just another sunny afternoon.

“Any particular reason?” Was Sandor’s somewhat irritated response. The clipped conversation had your eyes darting between the men as they spoke.

The first man spoke again. “They’re our men, or they were. They attacked a nearby sept and murdered the villagers. Burnt down a tavern in the next village too. Why do you want them?” His eye flicked to you, as though just realizing that the Hound was not alone. Curiosity made his head quirk to the side, his lone eye seeming to look you up and down. Not in the way you were used to men doing, but in a way that made your skin crawl. Like he was reading your body, your mind, and your soul. There was a part of you that felt sure he could hear every thought in your head.

“Same reason.” Sandor jerked his head to you. “It was her tavern they burnt. Her brother they murdered.” Your hand tensed in his, and he squeezed it gently. “She saved me.”

“Saved you? A surprise anyone would think to do that.” The second man seemed to be quite witty, or at least thought he was. There was a twinkle of mirth in his eyes that you could see, even from your distance.

Sandor looked down at you once again before returning his gaze to the men in front of him. “Aye, it is.” A pause and he started walking towards them intently, you following behind him. “They’re ours.” Sandor said, a statement of fact rather than a request.

The first man moved forward. “It is the Brotherhood’s good name they’ve dragged through the dirt.

“Fuck your name.” Sandor’s response was instant. The two of you came to a stop in front of the men. “They’re ours. I’ve killed ya once before, Dondarrion, happy to do it again.” In response, a man in the small crowd drew an arrow, pointing it at Sandor. You frowned and moved to the side between the archer and Sandor, releasing his hand in the process. “Drop that arrow, you bloody girl.” His eyes remained focused on the man he addressed as Dondarrion. “Tougher girls than you tried to kill me.” Sandor raised his ax, pointing it at the archer but careful of where he knew you stood next to him. A beat of silence and Sandor turned to start stalking towards the archer.

“You can have one of them.” Sandor turned back.

“Two.” It was almost incredulous how they seemed to barter over the lives of these men, who got to kill them. The two men who spoke with Sandor looked at each other. The second one nodded to the first, Dondarrion, who in turn nodded to Sandor.

They turned to the three men whose fates they so casually debated. Sandor went to the one on the farthest left, looked him up and down, and swung his ax back. It was grabbed, however, by the second man before he could bring it down. “No, no, no. We’re not butchers. We hang them.”

“Hanging? “ Sandor’s voice was annoyed. “All over in an instant. Where’s the punishment in that? Not enough after what they did to her brother. What they did to her ho-” Your hand on his arm stopped Sandor in his rant. He looked down to you, where you shook your head. There was no point in arguing. The other four you found died in pain and suffering. It was enough for you. Sandor pursed his lips and shook his head slightly.

“They’ll die.” Was the simple answer from the red-cloaked man, whose hands rested so casually upon the pommel of his sword.

“We all bloody die, except for this one here.” Sandor looked back to Dondarrion, making your brow furrow in confusion. You turned to look at the man as well, still standing a bit behind Sandor. The man looked at you, a small, almost knowing smile upon his lips as he held your gaze. It unsettled you a bit, so you looked back and up at the men facing their deaths. “I’ll only gut one of them.” The bartering nearly made you snort with laughter, but you held it in.

“No.” Dondarrion switched his gaze from you to Sandor as he spoke. The giant man next to you turned and glared at the man.

“Chop off one hand.” This time you couldn’t help the snort of laughter, the gazes of the men around you turning upon you suddenly.

“We gave you two out of the three, out of respect of the lady’s loss. That’s generous.” His eye held a bit of warning for Sandor, telling him not to push his luck. Sandor sighed and looked down at you. You nodded and he turned back to Dondarrion.

“Bunch of nances,” he grumbled. Sandor threw his ax to the ground in annoyance before looking up at the men. “There was a time I would’ve killed all seven of you just to gut these three.” Your brow quirked at his statement but you paid it no further mind.

“You’re getting old, Clegane. Or maybe your lady love has just made you soft.” Again with the mirthful look from the red-cloaked man, whose eyes roamed you freely. His gaze, though holding no malice, roamed over you with far less intensity and far more interest in the decolletage visible from the top of your gown. This was the gaze you were used to from men, and did not unsettle you like the other man’s did.

Sandor’s eyes turned to a deadly glare at the man before turning back to the men soon to be killed. “Well, he’s not.” His foot moved to the barrel that the first man stood on and kicked it from underneath his feet. He dropped suddenly and a sickening crunch was heard as he struggled against the noose. Sandor moved to the next one, turning back to you first with a question in his eyes. Your eyes leveled with his before flitting to the man in the middle.

“Did you kill my brother? With your own sword? The man you hung from a tree with the deer he had killed.” Your steely gaze leveled on the man, a pathetic whimper leaving his mouth. Violently, he shook his head, muttering what you believed to be lies. You had no proof save the the cloak around his neck. The cloak was not something you recognized, but the pins holding it together were. Those were the pins you had bought your brother for his sixteenth nameday. Your hand reached up, grasping the pins gently as you looked at them before you ripped them off. You put your bootclad foot on the edge of the barrel, leveling to meet his eyes once again.

“Mistress, please, I’ll give you anything.” The final words barely escaped his lips before you pushed the barrel over and the air was stolen from his lungs. With this man, there was no snap, only the strained gasp as his throat quickly began to become crushed against the rope. You kept your gaze upon the thrashing man’s face, watching with a deepset frown as his eyes seemed to bulge from his face and the color drained from his face to only be replaced by a blue hue. Dondarrion, who had sidled up next to you, quickly kicked over the barrel of the last man, who also choked. As soon as the third man began his suffering, you stepped back. The two men who Sandor seemed to know watched with varying expressions as Sandor looked at the middle man’s feet. The red-cloaked one seem bemused as Sandor removed the man’s boots and compared them to his own feet, while the other seemed intrigued.

“Got anything to eat?” Sandor finally asked once he pulled the new boots onto his feet. The men nodded and began walking to where they had set up camp. It wasn’t far, but far enough from the road where the deadmen hanged that you could no longer hear the creaking of the rope as their limp bodies swayed in the breeze.

A few men had stayed behind, assumingly to cook the game they had hunted and keep the fires stoked. You sat next to Sandor on a log, your knees drawn close to your chest. A leg of rabbit was in your hand but your gaze stayed on the lapping waves of the lake next to you. Two men sat on the log to your right and the man called Dondarrion on the left. The red-cloaked man soon joined you, a skin of something in his hands. “Enjoying yourself?”

Sandor examined the rabbit bone, cleaning it of its meat. “I prefer chicken.” A small smile graced your lips before you took another bite from the leg.

“Would you like to introduce us to your friend, Clegane? It is the proper thing to do.” The red-cloaked man passed the skin to Sandor, who took a swig of it before handing it to you. You took it, the burn of alcohol bringing a slight relief to you.

“Not really,” he replied. You nudged him with your elbow, though this was only met with a grumble from the man. “(Y/N), that is Beric Dondarrion, leader of this… whatever it is. And that bald cunt with the topknot is Thoros of Myr. This is (Y/N).”

They both nodded to you, which you returned. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady.”

You snorted and shook your head. “I’m no lady, Ser. But I thank ye, for the food. And the justice.” Though you spoke of it, it didn’t really feel as though justice had been served. Those men were dead, but so was your brother. You wondered if the dull ache in your heart would ever leave, or even lessen at all. The men seemed to be able to see the dull look in your eyes. Sandor’s hand gripped your knee gently, tossing the rabbit bone into the flames. Your eyes met his, and a small smile lifted the corners of your lips. He nodded and turned back to Thoros and Beric, though his hand didn’t leave you. The aforementioned men shared a look, noticing this surprisingly sweet gesture of comfort from the Hound.

Beric nodded at your words before returning his attention to Sandor once again. “You ought to join us.” You listened as Sandor snorted, responding to Beric. At this point, you tuned yourself out of the conversation, the only thing anchoring you to reality was Sandor’s hand on your leg. You finished the rest of the rabbit leg that had been given to you earlier, tossing the bone into the fire.

Your eyes lingered over the water, lapping at the muddy shores. The image of the strangled man kept flashing in your mind, but you steeled yourself against it. He suffered, hopefully more than your brother did. This was not enough, but it had to be. You would make it so.

The men continued to speak, Sandor’s thumb rubbing soft and slow circles against your knee. He stood, giving one reassuring pat to your leg before he walked to the edge of the lake and began to fiddle with his pants. You averted your eyes quickly, attempting to keep a soft blush from your cheeks as your eyes found the first thing that wasn’t Sandor. Unfortunately, that thing was the amused gaze of Thoros of Myr. Suddenly, something he said registered in your brain. “You’ve brought him back? Not healed him, but… how?” The man who called himself a priest chuckled into his drink.

“I prayed.” Beric pulled up his shirt to show you many scars, many of which should have killed him. “Six times, isn’t it?” Beric nodded to Thoros’ question. “I just got lucky. Or he did, I suppose.” Beric dropped his shirt as Sandor returned from relieving himself.

They continued their conversation, though you only payed half a mind to it. The fact that Beric had died six times but was still standing before you, very much alive, was incredible. They continued to talk about fighting, cold winds, and mysterious creatures that sounded like tales that the old women in the village would tell you as a child. “It’s not too late, Clegane.” This was the last thing Beric said to Sandor, silently awaiting an answer to his proposition. Sandor gave a soft sigh, staring at Beric before looking down at you.

His gaze held yours for a long moment, longer than you’ve had before. A soft emotion that you couldn’t quite place entranced you. “Well, what do ya say, lass? Ever been to the North?” You shook your head slightly. “Would ya like to?” A brief moment of clarity washed over you. You accepted Sandor’s offer of protection. You thought that, once your brother’s killers were caught, he would see it as a job done. Or maybe he would simply refuse to bring you, a woman, on what was doubtlessly a dangerous adventure. It seemed that this was not the case. How it seemed, at least to you, was that Sandor was intent on staying with you. And this thought made your heart feel a little brighter than it had before, and a smile painted your mouth. A real smile, one that reminded Sandor of the smiles you would offer him back in the tavern. The smile that always made his heart skip a beat, despite that particular sensation frightening him.

“Aye, I think I would like to see the North. It’s not like there’s much left for me in the Riverlands.” Beric nodded his head to you while Thoros raised his skin and took another drink. Sandor offered you a small, secret smile before taking your fingers in his hand as discreetly as he could. It wasn’t discreet at all, but thankfully, neither Thoros nor Beric felt the need to say anything.

#game of thrones #game of thrones fanfic #reader insert #Sandor Clegane #sandor clegane x reader #sandor the hound clegane #The Hound #the hound x reader #Brotherhood Without Banners #thoros of myr #beric dondarrion #sandor x reader

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aemontargaryen-bloodraven · 11 months

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Totally Random:

The Shieldhall was one of the older parts of Castle Black, a long drafty feast hall of dark stone, its oaken rafters black with the smoke of centuries. Back when the Night's Watch had been much larger, its walls had been hung with rows of brightly colored wooden shields. Then as now, when a knight took the black, tradition decreed that he set aside his former arms and take up the plain black shield of the brotherhood. The shields thus discarded would hang in the Shieldhall. Hundreds of knights meant hundreds of shields. Hawks and eagles, dragons and griffins, suns and stags, wolves and wyverns, manticores, bulls, trees and flowers, harps, spears, crabs and krakens, red lions and golden lions and chequy lions, owls, lambs, maids and mermen, stallions, stars, buckets and buckles, flayed men and hanged men and burning men, axes, longswords, turtles, unicorns, bears, quills, spiders and snakes and scorpions, and a hundred other heraldic charges had adorned the Shieldhall walls, blazoned in more colors than any rainbow ever dreamed of. A Dance with Dragons - Jon XIII

It is interesting that the place where Jon announces his intention to march South i.e. to Winterfell to deal with Ramsey after getting the Pink Letter, thereby breaking his vows and getting involved with the realm is a place where all the sigils of every house of Westeros is placed.

The order is kinda interesting, starting with two houses of Riverlands, but then dragons and griffins. The third is dragon 👀, but right next to it is a griffin (Jon Con?).

Or maybe dragon and griffin refer to FAegon and Jon Con.

#Jon Snow #Shield Hall #ASOIAF #Jon Connington #FAegon

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cruisingheightswithdragons · 6 months

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skyrim prompts: 25 for the oc of your choice :]

25. Tracking animals on the plains of Whiterun

They shrunk into the amber grass, forcing their pale, thick furred tail to lay still, resisting the urge to swish it side to side. Dark brown tufted ears perked, listening for any signs of trouble, should there come any. The white diamonds that marked their ears glowed from the sunlight. Hunger knawed at their belly. Dah’ni hadn’t eaten all day, having forgotten to stock up from Carlotta’s food stall in the Whiterun market before heading out, and the sight of a plump deer was too good an opportunity to pass up.

Despite wearing armor of the Dark Brotherhood to aid in their sneaking, Dah’ni was careful in their muffled steps. Creeping closer, their whiskers brushing against a breeze told them that they were downwind. The khajiit stalked their prey, which grazed on the tall grass, unaware of its pursuer.

Dah’ni reached for their bow, and as soon as they had a firm grip on it, they vanished. It was a lucky find, this bow that could turn its wielder invisible. Taking a dwarven arrow from its quiver, the golden head vanished alongside Dah’ni as they drew back their bow.

With a held breath, Dah’ni loosed the arrow. It struck into the flank of the deer, startling it. It bellowed out a painful cry before turning tail and sprinting off.

Putting their bow away, Dah’ni reappeared before giving chase. The stag stumbled as its hooves crashed into a rock face, and it slipped onto its side, driving the arrow deeper into its flesh. With their prey downed, Dah’ni quickly ran up to it, giving it a quick death with a slice of its throat using an ebony dagger.

Before the khajiit had time to rapture in their spoils, low rumbling sounded from just behind a lone hill. Tail bristling, Dah’ni whipped around as three wolves erupted from the underbrush. They hissed and drew themself tall, intent on defending their kill.

If Dah’ni took out their bow, them disappearing would bait the wolves to their kill, which the cat did not want. However, if they drew out their ebony war axe, it would be a close quarters fight with wild animals that could carry all sorts of diseases, and Dah’ni had no potions to spare. Drawing back their lips into a snarl, they hit upon a better idea.

Dah’ni took in a breath, their mind full of concentration. Time seemed to slow as they let their dragon blood flow through them. “Fus… Ro Dah!” A thundering yowl burst from their mouth, a buffeting wind sent two wolves flying.

Dah’ni blinked. Where had the third gone? They gripped their bow tightly, vanishing in case the wolf decided to leap out and clamp its jaws around them. “Laas… Yah..!” Looking around, Dah’ni found a glowing red aura in the shape of a quadruped as it tugged at the felled deer. Drawing their bow, Dah’ni quickly took it out with one shot.

As they approached the deer and now dead wolf, they could smell rockjoint in the beast’s saliva. As well, a mangled bite mark told Dah’ni that the wolf had managed to get a blow in on the deer. It wasn’t worth the risk carving up the meat now, and the khajiit hissed in annoyance.

Stomach growling, Dah’ni looked to the sky, seeing the sun sinking over the orange horizon. Twitching their tail as hunger gripped their thoughts, they wondered if they could make it back to Whiterun in time to ask Hulda at The Bannered Mare for some venison stew.

#the elder scrolls #tes #skyrim #skyrim oc #tes oc #dah’ni #my fic #ask #ask games #ardate #aguaguaguagagagaha ty pal aaaa this was fun!!#so glad I found that prompt list now I’ve got ideas weheheheh #this was a fun prompt and I put a little spin on it I hope u enjoy :)#I love this kitty sm

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twotangledsisters · 1 year

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Tangled and Deers?

Sooo....

Yesterday there was chat about that opening scene in Tangled the Series Season 2:

At the very front of this show there's two piece of paper. The one underneath is the Brotherhood symbol, cool detail. And the one above is a drawing of a deer.

I originally thought just a normal Rapunzel sketch, right?

However, then I remembered another instance of a deer in the show:

In Gothel's notes, on the right, next to the long green paper there's a drawing of a deer (literally says deer/stag underneath).

So, yeah... What's that about?

My best guess is someone on staff liked drawing deers.

But my much cooler and more fun guesses are like nature spirits or something!

Anyway, just a detail I noticed and thought I'd share! Any idea why this happened? Is there a relevant deer in the show I've just forgotten?

Sugracha had a sheep skull on her staff, right?

Zhan Tiri's horns were sheep, right?

Might need to do some more digging!

#tts #rta #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tangled #gothel

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synergysilhouette · 9 months

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Remaking X-Men: Evolution (Season 2)

(Note: If this looks familiar, that's because this is a reupload. I've rewritten all 4 seasons, plus my own original season. Make sure to check them out!)

Hey, guys! In case you missed it, I’ve remade the entire “X-Men: Evolution” series, as well as altering the roster. Here’s my synopsis for season 2:

Growing Pains--Adds Shadowcat, Rictor, and Somnus to the New Mutants (with the OG cast), as well as Forge formally joining them. This is to help him train–much to his chagrin, as he worries being in different teams could make him seem inferior to Storm and create a rift between them. In this version, Storm manipulates the winds to put the truck back on the bridge. While somewhat subtle, she laments that she shouldn’t be using her powers in the open, despite Kurt and Bobby’s praise. With Kitty joining the NM, she and Lance hit it off upon meeting before realizing who the other person is. Destiny is staying at the Brotherhood’s mansion following Mystique’s dissappearence, and Daken joins to make sure Magneto’s will is carried out. Destiny is late to warn the X-Men of Avlanche, Toad, and Quicksilver interrupting the soccer match. She sends Psylocke, Daken, and Gambit to reign them in, with Psylocke and Jean helping Professor X erasing everyone’s minds.

2. Power Surge--Plays out in a relatively similar fashion. Forge takes Storm to Duncan’s party for a date, while Iceman and Prodigy go stag, though Prodigy finds the knowledge he’s absorbing to be overwhelming, and realizes that Jean is experiencing something similar. While at the party, Risty notices Graydon and becomes fast friends with him, without Rogue and Graydon’s knowledge that she’s friends with both of them. During the power surge when Rogue absorbs some of Jean’s power, Rogue finds that some of the telekinesis lingers inside of her, allowing her to fly. In this episode, she also is able to let her (romantic) feelings for Scott go.

3. Bada-Bing Bada-Boom--Kind of a hard one. Calling it instead Magikal Girl, I imagine Magik making her debut in this episode, joining the X-Men in hopes of finding her brother. I feel like adding her removes reason to have Boom-Boom. The episode would instead flashback to her escaping Magneto after he kidnaps as a child, falling into another dimension where she learned to control her abilities, coming back to Earth a decade older. Certain details from the comics are omitted since they may be complicated or not affect the overall story, but it explains her friendship with Shadowcat and Storm. It’s revealed at the end that she feels as though someone is watching her, later revealed to be Magneto. The new mutants also get some screentime; briefly it’s seen that Daken and Somnus go on a date, as they don’t know who the other is (which ends in a kiss that’s implied to make them feel as though they’ve dated for years, making Daken feel overwhelmed and break off the relationship off-screen). At this point, Kitty leaves the New Mutants to be with Lance.

4. Fun and Games--Essentially plays out the same, except Risty brings Graydon instead of Weber, and Risty’s reveal as Mystique does not occur (I’d rather leave that for “Self Possessed”). Graydon attempts to expose the mutants, but Jean and Scott return in time for Jean to prevent it.

5. The Beast of Bayville--Puts Bobby in Evan’s role, and makes Mr. Sinister the main antagonist. Posing as a substitute science teacher, he manipulates Beast by pretending he can cure him, taking Beast’s hope and making him interested in mutants in a cruel and sadistic manner. He ends up looking physically normal (at least temporarily) due to experimentation, and continues to be a teacher at BH, albeit much more disturbed.

6. Adrift--Mostly the same, but the circumstances have Alex and Scott visiting Alex’s adoptive family rather than just Scott going out to visit Alex in Hawaii.

7. On Angel’s Wings--Has both small and major changes. Kurt good-naturely tries to kiss Storm instead of Kitty under the mistletoe, only for them to actually kiss and Forge and Storm have a brief argument. Rogue flirts with Scott in an equally light-hearted manner, as absorbing Jean and Gambit have helped her become a bit more comfortable with herself. In this version, Angel is a teenager, mainly because in my version of this episode, Magneto brings Psylocke with him in order to catch Angel, hinting at a romantic pairing between the two. The team in this episode consists of Magik, Rogue, and Scott (figuring everyone else has somewhere else to go on Christmas).

8. African Storm--Making an obvious change; replace Hungan with the Shadow King. He would possess her and wreak havoc in New York, and we’d have flashbacks into Storm’s life as an orphan, thief, goddess, and her initial days as an X-Man. Rogue uses her abilities to lure the Shadow King out while Professor X and Jean engage in a psychic battle to save her. It is revealed here that Storm has feelings for Nightcrawler, and when Forge confronts her about it, he breaks off the relationship before she could declare her loyalty as his girlfriend.

9. Joyride--Has Lance notice how much Kitty misses the X-Men and how he’s tired of being annoyed and/or afraid of other members of the Brotherhood. He encourages Kitty to rejoin the X-Men, and she coaxes him into joining her as well so they can be together. While Alex wants to give Lance the benefit of the doubt, Cyclops criticizes him and accuses him of bad judgement given his same sympathy for Magneto on Asteroid M. The troublesome New Mutant members in this episode include Somnus (who puts everyone to sleep) and Forge. It’s revealed the NM are trying to help cheer Forge up following his breakup, and when everything is cleared up, Cyclops apologizes to Avalanche, and he stays. To everyone’s surprise, Gambit appears at the mansion to join the X-Men as well.

Mindbender-–moved to season 3 to keep the season focused on Apocalypse rather than stretched out in seasons 2-4.

10. Shadow Dance--While Kurt tries to express his feelings for Storm, she encourages him to romance his other crush, Amanda. After Kurt’s traumatizing teleportation experience, Forge decides to study Magik’s teleportation abilities. In this case, demons pour out from Magik’s portals. Storm and Forge have a bittersweet but cathartic talk about their break-up, and Rogue and Gambit go to the dance together (Daken and Psylocke don’t bother crashing the dance like the rest of the Brotherhood). Destiny tries to reach out to Rogue and give Kurt a message from Mystique (as it’d be too suspicious coming from Risty), but both rebuff her due to Rogue knowing about her allegiance.

11. Retreat-–Capturing Rictor and intending to make him his new victim, Beast (or Dark Beast) is discovered by hunters, and it’s up to the New Mutants to save both of them. During the skirmish, Beast is rendered unconscious and the Professor begins working on repairing his mind, letting him join the X-Men. While Mister Sinister gains Rictor’s DNA, he becomes fascinated by two mutants in particular…

12. Walk on the Wild Side--Focuses on Scott’s hero complex instead of him acting like an OOC sexist jerk, and talking with Alex and Kurt to help overcome it. The Sirens (being made of Magik, Jean, Magma, Rogue, and a listless Psylocke) form out of a girls’ night that becomes an exciting crime-fighting event (that Psylocke happened to be present for). Eventually they disband when Daken taunts Psylocke and makes her think they don’t really like her. Before Mystique intervenes, Sinister manages to gain a sample of Jean’s DNA while posing as an officer. This also offers a brief appearence of Banshee.

13. Operation Rebirth--Essentially plays out the same, albeit involving Prodigy, Daken and Magik on the mission, with Magneto giving hints about Polaris. It’d also be nice to dive into not just Magneto’s past, but also his present goals and his family life. Along with this, some of Daken’s past and anger is explained.

14. The HeX Factor--Here we would dive more into Pietro’s feelings about his father and sister, along with Magik and Storm helping to even the playing field against Wanda. When the X-Men are about to be killed, Lance shows up and agrees to rejoin the Brotherhood, helping to convince them not to kill the X-Men. The end of the episode has Magneto talking to Polaris about how he wants Wanda to be just like her, as Polaris is the older sister here.

15. Day of Reckoning (part 1)--Offers a fight with a recovered Beast, Storm, and Prodigy against Psylocke and Daken in the sewers where the X-Men are almost overwhelmed during their search for Wolverine. Daken and Psylocke begin to act independently of the Brotherhood since they sense Mystique making a power play, thus not joining the team-up between them and the X-Men. Destiny attempts again to reach out to Rogue, but fears she is only half-listening about her claims of Rogue’s possible self-destruction. Professor X leaves not only Scott behind, but Havok and Prodigy as well, and Amara escapes with Kitty’s help. Professor X asks Somnus to put Scott to sleep to “help relieve his stress.”

16. Day of Reckoning (part 2)--Has Polaris ambush the team (instead of Gambit), while Pyro and Iceman go toe-to-toe before Storm assists. Psylocke is seen with Magneto while Daken attempts to locate Wolverine to kill him. Kitty returns to the mansion to help save the other students. Gambit and Rogue have a brief romantic moment resulting in a kiss where they tag-team the Acolytes with Gambit’s powers. Magik finds Colossus and while she attempts to speak to him, he realizes Magneto has been watching her and ignores her pleas, instead fighting other X-Men. While Havok becomes flustered by Polaris, she attempts to defeat Wanda, who incapacitates her in a rage. Because of this, Polaris doesn’t get in the travel sphere. The sentinels capture Rogue, Iceman, Gambit, Polaris, and Beast. After knocking Quicksilver unconscious, Scarlet Witch attacks Psylocke and sends her into a coma, allowing the sentinels to capture her. Upon finding Wolverine, Daken is seemingly killed, but is actually rescued by Mr. Sinister, who also kidnaps Lorna and Colossus. Upon returning to the X-Mansion, they find the students unharmed thanks to Kitty. After hearing Somnus’ explanation, looking at the video tapes, and Prodigy confirming his suspicions, Cyclops realizes that Mystique has been pretending to be Professor X, and now things are about to get “much worse.”

Lemme know what you think! Be sure to tell me what your favorite episode(s) is!

#xmen #x men #marvel #marvel comics #x men evolution #rogue #nightcrawler #cyclops #jean grey #professor x #iceman #magik #prodigy #scarlet witch #magneto #quicksilver #daken #brotherhood of mutants

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theroseempress · 1 year

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Greetings, denizens of Tumblr, men, women, and potplants!

I randomly decided this blog needed an introductory post, so here we are.

Any of my writing/art can be found at the #my writing and #my art tags respectively. My current WIP, The Golden City, can be found at #the golden city or #tgc if I'm lazy. I have any number of background projects, which can all be found at #backburner wips.

Random details about me include; I'm a writer/artist in training, self-taught for both, and a professional bullshitter. I also like cats better than dogs, drink a lot of hot cocoa and coffee, and recently discovered I might be intolerant to milk, which I am VERY salty over. I'm also a professional procrastinator, and am actually procrastinating from something by writing this very post.

I come in several different flavours of neurodivergent!

I am also a coloured pencil. No, I will not elaborate.

You can call me any variation of my blog name, R, or Rose, whichever you like. (if you somehow know me IRL and thus know my actual name; no you do not)

I'm chill with basically anyone (whatever your opinions are on anything) as long as you can be respectful about them. While I do have opinions on all controversial topics (being as I am a Human Bean and thus biased) I prefer to stay firmly neutral and out of any Important Debates/politics.

Oh, and I adore tag/ask games, feel free to drop in with anything at any time, but I am erratically efficient with answering so it maay take a while. Sorry.

Anyway! Other me/WIP-related stuff under the cut because this's a 'lil long :D

Media I like includes; Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood (I'm planning to watch the 03 one at some point but haven't gotten around to it) Avatar; The Last Airbender and The Legend of Korra, the Reckoners series, Redwall, The Queen's Thief series, The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl comics, the Agents of SHIELD tv show, and pretty much all of the older Barbie movies. (most specifically Princess and the Pauper) I'm also pretty involved in the Miraculous Ladybug fandom, somehow, despite not having watched most of it.

Favorite characters of mine include; Edward Elric, Roy Mustang, Azula, Kuvira, Sokka, Zuko, Fitz, Adrien Agreste, Félix Graham De Vanily, Kagami Tsurugi, Varrick, Zhu Li, Eugenides/Gen, Basil Stag Hare, Gonff, Ling Yao, Preminger, and Azul.

I'm not much of a shipper, but I do have a soft spot for Royai, the Love Square and Feligami from Miraculous Ladybug, and whatever Zhu Li/Varrick is called.

Anyway, here's the plot as of yet of my main WIP in newspaper-headline style because I saw someone else do it and I liked the idea.

Local Thief Gets Arrested And Then Takes Advantage of Loophole; Winds Up Going On Treasure Hunt. (Chaos Ensues)

Here's a runup of the main characters;

Felix Rose- professional bullshitter/actor/ridiculously good at being charming. Very cocky, actually has enough skills to (occasionally) warrant it. Owns four cats. Does not want to go to jail, thank you. Noble who part-times as a thief, as one does.

Shannon Rose- professional Felix's Twin Brother. At first glance seems significantly less mischevious than Felix, but we must remind you that Felix is significantly more anything than anyone. Studying to be a scholar. Would also prefer it if Felix did not got to jail, would like to prevent that.

Valentin Fleet- professional Cinnamon Roll. Wants to do the Right Thing, unsure what that actually means. Is capital-C Conflicted. Somehow managed to go from the resident Tough Person to the resident Cinnamon Roll over the story's creation. The reason Felix is in jail, would prefer it if he stayed there, please.

I also have a website, (carolinaauthor.wordpress.com) where I'll be posting my WIP when it gets to production stage, and an Etsy store (it's called CoffeeCatDesigns, I'll find a link later sorry) where you can buy stuff from me. Oh, and I started writing fanfic recently! I'm The Rose Empress on ao3 if you're interested!

If you want to ask me questions about any of my WIPs or tag me in stuff I will be more than happy to answer :D

Mmmmmmmmkay that's it thank you for reading, I'm gonna go do that thing I was procrastinating from now.

-R

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artsy-hobbitses · 10 months

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when sideswipe heard Sunstreaker say “thankful” and “ungrateful” during their argument… how did he react. Did he full silence in shock and hurt that slowly morphed to visibly being upset and that triggers him to finally take Sunny down.

At the point where Sunny blurts that out, I figure they’re already sort of grappling with each other after a shoving and yelling match escalated when Sides demanded that Sunny come clean about what happened and Sunny refuses/tries to talk Sides out off doing that himself, and it’s definitely not playful/gamely as they tend to do, but there’s still a sense that Sunny is trying to establish dominance as he usually does in these sort of ‘jousts’, big brother-style, and Sides is more on the defensive—they’re basically going at it like stags.

Sides has never told Sunny about his blowout with their parents which lead him to move out at 16 (the one where they told him they wish they never had him after he finally had the courage to call them out on the way they treated him, tell them how all he ever wanted for them to love him the same way they did his brother, who he literally shared a womb with—and demand to know what else could he possibly do to be good enough to be seen as a son and not a burden in their eyes)

So he’s been carrying this festering hurt since, but Jazz—who he looked up to and helped him during that time—does know a bit about it and told him that there were people out there who were going to love him for who he was, and not move the goalposts to earn it or have him break his back bending over to accommodate them, because he deserved better than that.

Sunstreaker, for a long while, was someone he thought was among those people, but the moment Sunny unthinkingly repeats that important component of their parents’ verbal abuse of him at him verbatim, it opens up that wound he’s never shared with Sunny (He wasn’t wanted, he was never wanted, their parents wished he never existed — he’s carried with this sense of worthlessness throughout his life which he effectively hides under a devil-may-care attitude, and he wants to carry that moment to the grave) and he’s the one now on the offensive, and his punches are landing for real. Straight up wreckingball haymakers.

Just completely fucking floors Sunny for the first time in his life (500-1) and asks Sunny (who’s very dazed at the moment) straight up, inches away from his face, if he realizes who the hell he sounds like.

Takes Sunny a few seconds for the anvil to land as he pieces together the possible reasons for this very unusual display of true fury from Sides, and to Sunny’s credit he immediately tries to backpedal his words.

But the damage is done and Sides (whose momentary fury has now died down this quiet despondence that makes Sunny wish he was yelling, please for the love of god yell at him because it would feel less like a gut punch) tells Sunny that he not here change the way Sunny views their brotherhood, but if his blind obedience was the toll Sunny expects him to pay to earn it, then he’ll be the ingrate Sunny thinks he is, because he’s vouched for you so many times but nothing, nothing can justify the amount of hurt you’ve unleashed on people who trusted us—there was a literal kid on base, did you even think about that? (This is why Prowl is SO FUCKING MAD at Sunny—at the point this happened, Springer is still growing/a kid, circa 14 years of age in their growth spurt, and it’s their first harsh lesson in the dangers the Autobots face because green bean child has never been off-base, and it’s Prowl’s first taste of Legitimate Fear/Anguish when he thinks Springer’s been crushed to death trying to save Dakshi—Kup’s dog—but it becomes a moment of revelation on Springer’s unnatural strength/durability).

Sides makes it clear that of Sunny doesn’t tell them, he will—someone has to—but he urges Sunny to please, please own up to this because enough people have suffered directly and indirectly from it, and whatever fallout comes from this, he’ll still be here for Sunny, as he always has.

We all know Sunny’s going through a major crisis of self at this point and takes what he himself will always say was the ‘coward’s way out’, which emotionally wrecks Sides to a point he’s never been at in years.

#inbox #save for later

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hyacinthyne · 2 years

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Sansa heretic hags saying that Arya befriending the smallfolk doesn’t mean that Arya isn’t classist in the same vein as white people befriending black people doesn’t mean that they aren’t racist is hilarious to me.

For one, we see Arya’s thoughts. WHERE IS THIS CLASSISM YOU SPEAK OF?

For another, if Arya had a bone of classism in her body, it would’ve made itself apparent. Arya has been tried and tested for classism. If Arya thought that being treated like a lowborn was beneath her moreso than it was beneath them, she’d have thought it. But nope, through starvation, Arya is the most enthusiastic to eat beetles. Through slavery, she seeks vengeance for the hurts of a lowborn girl instead of seeking them primarily for herself. Upon meeting sex workers, Arya’s confusion/naivety doesn’t manifest itself in any negative reaction. She befriends them, she helps them out and she thinks of them in a positive light. If almost any other character in the books saw and experienced what Arya did, even the lightest tinge of classism would’ve emerged. If Arya had something to unlearn when it came to the smallfolk, she would’ve unlearned it.

What Arya has unlearned, is that her House has also wrought atrocities upon the smallfolk. She has been disillusioned. Her black and white morals have developed into a greyer spectrum. She has more work to do on that front but she is massively empathetic (look at her freeing the terrible threesome and giving water to the Northmen at Stoney Sept) and she has gleaned a better understanding of the inequalities that she benefits from. This is the sort of character arc that pays off in reform and revolution. Dany’ll give her tips. Sansa will purse her lips. Stop all this talk of ships.

It is uncanny that she hasn’t absorbed any of the classism inherent in highborn circles. By all accounts Myrcella and Tommen are sweet children (if spoilt and lacking in good influence in a way that Arya wasn’t) but look at this:

Startled, Arya dropped the cat and whirled toward the voice. The tom bounded off in the blink of an eye. At the end of the alley stood a girl with a mass of golden curls, dressed as pretty as a doll in blue satin. Beside her was a plump little blond boy with a prancing stag sewn in pearls across the front of his doublet and a miniature sword at his belt. Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen, Arya thought. A septa as large as a draft horse hovered over them, and behind her two big men in crimson cloaks, Lannister house guards.

"What were you doing to that cat, boy?" Myrcella asked again, sternly. To her brother she said, "He's a ragged boy, isn't he? Look at him." She giggled.

"A ragged dirty smelly boy," Tommen agreed.

Now I’m not attacking Tommen and Myrcella, they’re highborn children who don’t know any better. But look at the difference between them and Arya. And this comparison was blatant and warranted considering that they are being classist... towards Arya lol.

Arya’s underfootedness is not without reason. Arya was treated as slightly separate from the other highborns. I’m not saying that she is excused and exempt of privilege but she was often rejected in those circles. Sansa draws a line between Arya and Jon and the common blood of Jon’s mother as she wonders if Arya is a changeling. Arya’s lack of classism isn’t because she was given a pure soul by the Old Gods or some such thing, it’s because the smallfolk showed their kindly mettle to her in ways that her highborn peers didn’t.

Arya was accepted among her own family primarily by Jon (who was baseborn) and Ned (who was unusually fond of the smallfolk and valued their opinions, giving them a place at his table and conversing with them). Also Bran who was very alike to her in being especially close to the smallfolk.

She prefers older female figures like Old Nan (who may have a dubious origin but is considered lowborn) and Lady Smallwood (who fraternizes with the bloody brotherhood without banners, is sympathetic to the smallfolk, is more promiscuous than the average Lady (her apparent old fling with Tom Sevenstring, her sarcasm about sleeping with Jaime) and is more accepting of her than any other highborn lady including her mother) and the Sailor’s Wife (who helps her out through their strategic alliance and is overall very motherly towards her) over Septa Mordane who inflicts the most ostracizing on Arya and is also the very force trying to instill classist values in her.

She prefers to befriend Mycha over Tommen, Myrcella, Joffrey and co. Her only highborn friend is Edric Dayne. And he’s literally the squire of Beric Dondarrion. He’s growing up in a group of pro-smallfolk outlaws. Most of his friends and companions (ie. Anguy) are smallfolk.

She befriends Daena, Lanna etc yet she has no female highborn friends and is shunned and bullied by Jeyne Poole in particular. Unless you subscribe to my theory that she was hanging out with Wylla Manderly on those trips to White Harbor. If Alys can have puppy love for Jon then Wylla and Arya can nerd out about the better parts of history together.

Even if we look at how she would rather be trained by Syrio Forel than Barristan Selmy!!! Barristan wouldn’t even have taken her seriously.

Gendry. GENDRY. yeah... I mean he literally values her intelligence more than anyone in the series. He respects her competence more than anyone in the series. He shows loyalty to her and so she gives it back.

Anyway. Acceptance breeds acceptance.

Of course Arya has close bonds with and more respect than most for the smallfolk, it is a testament to their lack of highborn standards, their kindness and their rather broader acceptance of gender nonconformity. It isn’t a not like other girls trait. It’s a reaction.

#arya stark #aryastarkmonth2022 #anti sansa stans #arya underfoot

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oathkeeperoathbreaker · 1 year

Text

A Clash of Crowns

The ancient crown of the Kings of Winter had been lost three centuries ago, yielded up to Aegon the Conqueror when Torrhen Stark knelt in submission. What Aegon had done with it no man could say. Lord Hoster’s smith had done his work well, and Robb’s crown looked much as the other was said to have looked in the tales told of the Stark kings of old; an open circlet of hammered bronze incised with the runes of the First Men, surmounted by nine black iron spikes wrought in the shape of longswords. Of gold and silver and gemstones, it had none; bronze and iron were the metals of winter, dark and strong to fight against the cold.

Catelyn I, A CLASH OF KINGS

Small wonder the lords gather around him with such fervor, she thought, he is Robert come again. Renly was handsome as Robert had been handsome; long of limb and broad of shoulder, with the same coal-black hair, fine and straight, the same deep blue eyes, the same easy smile. The slender circlet around his brows seemed to suit him well. It was soft gold, a ring of roses exquisitely wrought; at the front lifted a stag’s head of dark green jade, adorned with golden eyes and golden antlers.

Catelyn II, A CLASH OF KINGS

As he neared, she saw that Stannis wore a crown of red gold with points fashioned in the shape of flames. His belt was studded with garnets and yellow topaz, and a great square-cut ruby was set in the hilt of the sword he wore. Otherwise his dress was plain: studded leather jerkin over quilted doublet, worn boots, breeches of brown roughspun. The device on his sun-yellow banner showed a red heart surrounded by a blaze of orange fire. The crowned stag was there, yes . . . shrunken and enclosed within the heart.

Catelyn III, A CLASH OF KINGS

Trader captains brought lace from Myr, chests of saffron from Yi Ti, amber and dragonglass out of Asshai. Merchants offered bags of coin, silversmiths rings and chains. Pipers piped for her, tumblers tumbled, and jugglers juggled, while dyers draped her in colors she had never known existed. A pair of Jogos Nhai presented her with one of their striped zorses, black and white and fierce. A widow brought the dried corpse of her husband, covered with a crust of silvered leaves; such remnants were believed to have great power, especially if the deceased had been a sorcerer, as this one had. And the Tourmaline Brotherhood pressed on her a crown wrought in the shape of a three-headed dragon; the coils were yellow gold, the wings silver, the heads carved from jade, ivory, and onyx.

Daenerys III, A CLASH OF KINGS

[H]e donned his crown, a band of cold iron slim as a finger, set with heavy chunks of black diamond and nuggets of gold. It was misshapen and ugly, but there was no help for that. Mikken lay buried in the lichyard, and the new smith was capable of little more than nails and horseshoes. Theon consoled himself with the reminder that it was only a prince’s crown. He would have something much finer when he was crowned king.

Theon V, A CLASH OF KINGS

The denizens of Joffrey’s court had striven to outdo each other today. Jalabhar Xho was all in feathers, a plumage so fantastic and extravagant that he seemed like to take flight. The High Septon’s crystal crown fired rainbows through the air every time he moved his head. At the council table, Queen Cersei shimmered in a cloth-of-gold gown slashed in burgundy velvet, while beside her Varys fussed and simpered in a lilac brocade. Moon Boy and Ser Dontos wore new suits of motley, clean as a spring morning. Even Lady Tanda and her daughters looked pretty in matching gowns of turquoise silk and vair, and Lord Gyles was coughing into a square of scarlet silk trimmed with golden lace. King Joffrey sat above them all, amongst the blades and barbs of the Iron Throne. He was in crimson samite, his black mantle studded with rubies, on his head his heavy golden crown.

Sansa VIII, A CLASH OF KINGS

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #a clash of crowns #robb stark #renly baratheon #stannis baratheon #daenerys targaryen #theon greyjoy #joffrey baratheon

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nevermore-saga · 1 year

Text

Massive warning for the info dump.

“Born on a small village of Vallensburg only to be orphaned when he was barely a month old after a Scaleskin raid, he was soon adopted by the veteran hunter Anton Sallenzmann of the Order of the Black Stag after being discovered with his dead mother’s arm around his body. Now raised by Anton and Johann, who was the head of the Black Stag at the time and arguably still is, Yarrick would learn the ins and outs of the order as well as how to wield weaponry and firearms, planting and creating traps, tracking, as well as developing tactics and strategies surrounding the beasts he’ll have to hunt, plus actual skills that can benefit him besides hunting like mathematics and biology. By the age of 21, he slew his first beast, a younger adult Fiend in the forests of Nokkurn, passing his first hunt as a rite of passage and receiving praise from his brothers in arms and spirit. Now at the age of 49, he along with Johann are the last of the hunters of the Black Stag, as over the last 28 years the already small number of hunters who dedicated their lives to the order were either slewed by the beasts and armies of the continent or retired from their former lives as renowned monster slayers. Now going around the provinces within the empire, he takes up bounties and contracts to keep his way of living alive and well into the tail end of the century. Besides taking up contracts to gain a stable income, he also sends the parts of the beasts he slain to the monastery and to Johann for examination, and as trophies, to keep the traditions within their brotherhood going for the coming generations and to learn more about the creatures of Euríthe for future jobs. That and the currency received from the contracts and hunts also help with affording enough ingredients for porridge to keep the brownies from leaving and going somewhere else.”

So yeah, say hello to Yarrick Ossenfinn Vannifyr, hunter for the Order of the Black Stag, renowned hunter of big game around the continent of Euríthe and one of the two members of the near extinct order.

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calder · 1 year

Text

aspirational chapter outline for Fallout and the Occult

CHAPTER 1:

WHEREIN THERE IS THE GLOW

HISTORY OF THE MAINLAND CHILDREN OF ATOM

CHAPTER 2:

THE FIRMAMENT

INDEX - MAINLAND TESTIMONIES OF ATOM

CHAPTER 3:

COME FORTH AND KNOW

CULT ACTIVITY ON THE ISLAND

CHAPTER 4:

I BEHELD A VERDANT STAG

INDEX - FAR HARBOR TESTIMONIES OF ATOM

CHAPTER 5:

HE IS COMING WITH THE CLOUDS

INDEX - FAR HARBOR MINUTIA AND DOCUMENTS

CHAPTER 6:

HIS BLAZING VISAGE

MYTHOLOGY, DIVISION, AND A COMPOSITE SKETCH OF ATOM

CHAPTER 7:

GO WITH THE GLOW

ATOM: CONCLUSIONS

CHAPTER 8:

SOMETHING IS COMING AND IT IS ANGRY

THE MOTH MAN AND THE INTERLOPER

CHAPTER 9:

AMARANTH

THE ENLIGHTENED

CHAPTER 10:

MAY NO TRACE OF YOU BE FOUND

THE TREEMINDERS

CHAPTER 11:

THE VOICES OF THE WOOD

INDEX - COMPLETE MOTH GOSPEL

CHAPTER 12:

THE POTENTIAL TO UNDERSTAND

DREAMS, VISIONS, AND MULTIPLANAR THOUGHT

CHAPTER 13:

THE BREAKING OF THE WORLD

TIME TRAVEL, METAPHYSICS, AND V-13

CHAPTER 14:

[...]

PREWAR OCCULTISM + INDEX

CHAPTER 15:

SAFE IN THE LIGHT

UG-QUALTOTH

CHAPTER 15:

WHERE THE TREE BLOOMED

HAROLD AND THE TWIN MOTHERS

CHAPTER 16:

THESE LANDS ARE FORBIDDEN

INDEX - HAROLD AND THE TWIN MOTHERS

CHAPTER 17:

BUT MAN WAS WEAK

A HISTORY OF THE UNITY AND FEV

CHAPTER 18:

[...]

COMPLETE UNITY GOSPEL

CHAPTER 19:

WISDOM FOUND NO DWELLING-PLACE

TALKING DEATHCLAWS

CHAPTER 20:

THE DANGER CAN SPEAK

INDEX - TALKING DEATHCLAWS

CHAPTER 21:

THIS PLACE IS PART OF A SYSTEM OF MESSAGES

MANNEQUINS

CHAPTER 22:

TO BETTER SPEAK HIS NAME

GHOULS

CHAPTER 23:

[...]

INDEX - GHOULS

CHAPTER 24:

MAKE BRITTLE THY TEETH

M.A.D. MONKS

CHAPTER 25:

[...]

SELECTED ANOMALIES

CHAPTER 26:

CHILDREN, TOO, OF EVE

SPECIAL INDEX - COMPLETE WASTELAND GOSPEL

CHAPTER 27:

HE FILLETH THE EARTH WITH SPIRITS

CHRISTIANS

CHAPTER 28:

[...]

INDEX - CHRISTIANS

CHAPTER 28:

TRAPPED IN THEIR IGNORANCE

VAULTS

CHAPTER 29:

THIS IS NOT A PLACE OF HONOR

INDEX - VAULT-TEC

CHAPTER 30:

[...]

GOVERNMENT ENCLAVES

CHAPTER 31:

NO GREAT DEED IS ESTEEMED HERE

INDEX - THE ENCLAVE

CHAPTER 32:

THERE IS NOTHING HERE

BROTHERHOOD OF STEEL

CHAPTER 33:

[...]

INDEX - BROTHERHOOD OF STEEL

CHAPTER 34:

[...]

SYNTHS AND THE INSTITUTE

CHAPTER 35:

[...]

INDEX - SYNTHS AND THE INSTITUTE

CHAPTER 36:

THE WAILING OF THE HERETICS

SPECIAL INDEX - MISCELLANEOUS FALLOUT GOSPEL

CHAPTER 37:

MY WORKS UPON THE EARTH

SITES OF ANOMALOUS AND HOLY ACTIVITY IN APPALACHIA

CHAPTER 38:

CARRIED BY WINGED CHARIOTS

ALIENS AND PRECURSORS

CHAPTER 39:

[...]

INDEX - ALIENS AND PRECURSORS

CHAPTER 40:

FALLOUT 3000

PERSONAL FANON

CHAPTER 41:

NEW PROPHETS

SPECIAL INDEX - SELECTED APOCRYPHA

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boarchasers · 8 months

Text

Day 7

Prompt: In Bloom or Blood

When he envisioned it, Haaki's escape had involved disappearing into the trees, lying low for a while, and then making his careful way back to Falkreath before sunrise. Now he found himself with mere moments to incorporate Frithjofr into that plan. He darted forwards and gripped Frithjofr's shoulder.

'Trust me.'

'What?'

The door opened. Haaki whipped away from Frithjofr and raised his arms, palms forwards, as Bette and Sjorik emerged. The sight of Haaki apparently surrendering to a trembling, grey-haired man stopped them in their tracks.

'Who's this?' asked Bette. Praying that Frithjofr wouldn't venture to make his own introductions, and that Bette wouldn't take the opportunity to thrust the dagger into his back, Haaki tried to keep himself an equal distance between both parties, arms still up.

'Frithjofr?'

Thankfully, Frithjofr seemed too stunned to interrupt. He was also too stunned to notice Haaki's pointed stare at the sword and to make a better show of this, but Haaki was used to spinning a drama out of limited material. He tried to appear suitably threatened. Bette was not immediately convinced.

'Another victim, then.'

'I wouldn't. He's been hunting me. And doing a better job of it than you.' Haaki risked a glance at her out of the side of his eye. 'You know he killed my sister? And Minnel was a beast with a mace, let me tell you. Just think what he'll do to you.'

'This old fool? We'll see.'

She stepped forwards. Frithjofr flinched backwards. It was odd, though. Much as the Brotherhood had a flair for the dramatic, they wouldn't usually drag out an attack for this long, at least in Haaki's experience. Get in, get it done, and get out, was what he had been taught, with particular stress on not wasting time taunting the mark. He had felt somewhat offended at the time by the insinuation that his style left anything to be desired, but at least his mentor had emphasised the need for efficiency. There was no pleasure in childish games, only in the kill. Slowly, Haaki lowered his hands.

'There are rules, even I know that,' he said. 'Has anyone performed the Black Sacrament for Frithjofr? Have any of the Speakers asked you to kill him?'

'That was the reason you joined! To have your revenge on him, the Speaker said!'

'And I failed, didn't I? So he must be dangerous. Look at his sword.'

'You're laughing at me.'

'Stop me, then. Shut me up.'

Bette turned on her heel to face him, dagger ready, a furious look on her face, and that gave it away entirely. Too much indecision, too much hesitation. Haaki folded his arms, relaxed now.

'Have you even been authorised to kill me, or was this just a test for you?' he asked. Bette advanced further, without actually bringing herself close enough for an attack, and he grinned. 'It is, isn't it? I bet the Speaker sent you out to keep you busy. Let me guess. They said to try and find Boar-Chaser, scare him a bit, keep him in line, but don't spill any blood, keep it tidy, and maybe then you'll be ready for another contract. That's why you were cross with Sjorik about the stag. Am I right?'

At last, she slid the dagger away, breathing deeply to try and regain some composure. Behind her, Sjorik let the summoned magic fall from his hands and began an intense study of a heather clump.

'All right. Yes. That's what they said. But I doubt they'd shed any tears if I did kill you.'

'It'd be much easier, and safer, to go back, tell them I promised to be a good boy and never breathe a word about you, and forget about me. Because I won't say anything, you have my word. I will trust in the Divines to bring you back to the path of righteousness, and when they do I will accept your plea for mercy.'

'Shut up.'

'Stendarr be with you, miss.'

'Hail Sithis.'

And with that, they were gone.

Only once they had slammed the door into the Sanctuary behind them did Haaki turn back to Frithjofr. He was shaking where he stood, still holding the sword in front of him as if the sight of it alone would ward off potential enemies. Gently, Haaki put his hands over Frithjofr's and helped him lower the weapon.

'I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, the stuff about… about Minnel. Not any more. I had to say something to get rid of them.'

'I know.' Frithjofr breathed in deeply, face pale and eerie in the predawn light. Shadows fell in strange places. 'I would've fought 'em, though, to protect you. If I had to.'

'I wouldn't be worth it.'

Without giving him time to comment on that, Haaki pulled him along, eager now to leave the door far behind. It soon slipped into darkness as they trudged through the forest.

Once they were back on a real path, with the torches of Falkreath flickering between the trees, Haaki asked,

'How did you find me?'

'I saw there was blood on the ground 'n I thought, what if it was yours? So I went back and got my sword 'n stuff from the inn, and then I followed it to that cliff thing.' Frithjfor shifted uncomfortably in his armour, which had clearly been buckled in a hurry and weighed him down at the shoulders. Haaki wondered who had fastened it for him, picturing a poor barmaid at the inn being hustled in to help, and bit his lip as Frithjofr continued, 'Then I walked down and found that door, but it started asking me what the blessing of existence was and I guess nothing I said was right, I've never been good at riddles, and anyway I didn't like it, so I thought you must've been nearby and I decided I'd wait for you.'

It showed courage Haaki wouldn't have guessed Frithjofr had. Always a coward, it was hard to picture him picking his way along a trail of blood in the pines, to a door more bloodied than he knew, and even trying to get through it before being forced to admit defeat. He could have run back, or at least clanked back, in the unfamiliar armour. He could have found somewhere safer. He chose to wait.

Haaki kept pace with him for a while. The smell of smoke drifted towards them, the inn stoking up the fires ready for breakfast and another day. Such normal, friendly things. At the gates, Haaki hesitated.

'Do you think I'm just… running away from things?'

'Nothing wrong with running. Always worked for me.'

He looked sideways. Frithjofr was watching a guard patrolling the walls, a distant expression on his face.

'Frithjofr?'

'Aye?'

'When the door asked you what the blessing of existence was, what did you say?'

'Well, first I tried family, 'n friends, 'n chickens, but it didn't like those, so then I tried spoons, 'n not being in prison, 'n some other stuff. What was the right answer s'posed to be?'

The breath caught in Haaki's throat as a curious warmth overwhelmed him, out of nowhere, until his chest hurt and his eyes ached. He nudged Frithjofr's arm.

'I think... I think your answers were right. It must have been broken.'

'Aye, I thought so,' said Frithjofr, contentedly.

A companionable silence fell. Accompanied by the first hush of morning light, they continued their walk into town, back to peace, and to safety, and to red mountain flowers in bloom.

#story #haaki #lostnord

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