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lamemaster · 8 months
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Dismembered Memory- Chapter 2
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Pairing: Iluvatar x Reader
Genre: Mystery , romance and mythology
Summary: Do the Gods love? What is it like to love one? What is it like to be loved by one? Is it a love beyond the shackles of creation and destruction or is it a tragedy bound in the chains of duty and predestination.
AN: A shorter chapter as we dwell into the arc. This is very much a me project so chapter word count will be rather inconsistent.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2| Chapter 3|
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The world is woven with the threads of yearning—yearning for creation, yearning for love, yearning for companionship, yearning for beauty or legacy. Reasons as diverse as the stars. It is this relentless desire for anything and everything that catalyzes the very origin of existence.
However, creation necessitates substance—a canvas on which to paint its journey.
Iluvatar's recollection doesn't encompass you. He doesn't possess the fragments of your memories, yet you remain an inseparable fragment of his essence. Analogous to matter, which underpins creation, you are an existence that entwines his thoughts, an ethereal presence encircling his eternal song. Connected to him yet apart, a paradox of unity and division.
He glimpses fragments of you through the eyes of his Ainur, those beings birthed from his own mind. A silent observer, he never truly encounters you, and you, in your existence, never seek him. The weight of your absence gnaws at him ceaselessly, a persistent ache embedded within every living moment.
Time turns into an eternity as Iluvatar mourns the gulf that separates you from him. He replays the fleeting glimpses of your presence, those wisps caught through the eyes of Manwe and Melkor. Perhaps fated, your connection with him remains unknown. However, such a state is destined to change. It evolves, it shifts, and it transforms.
A pivotal moment arrives when the distant creator of the cosmos is irresistibly drawn into his own creation. Iluvatar crosses the threshold into Arda, compelled by an irresistible force—you. He treads upon the earth he formed, a wanderer amidst the very world he sculpted. The trappings of his divinity take a backseat as he pursues an entity he can barely remember. The symphony of creation fades, and the unattainable brilliance of his godhood diminishes. All is surrendered for the sake of finding you.
He journeys endlessly, traversing the landscapes of Arda in search of any traces of you. The loss of his divine status and the adversities of the world pale in significance as the very land of Arda draws him closer to you. You must be here, in some form or another. The architect of the world becomes a wanderer within it, adopting a form akin to that of his own children, in the hope of finding you among them.
No callouses on his feet, no storms, no heatwaves can impede his quest. He presses forward relentlessly, compelled by an unquenchable yearning. He must find you, and nothing can deter him.
For Iluvatar, the loss of his godhood and the trials of Arda itself become inconsequential when the very land he shaped brings him ever closer to you. You, a presence he can barely recollect, but a presence that he cannot relinquish. He walks the world, shedding his divine mantle, forsaking the celestial music that once defined him. All for the sake of you, the missing piece of his existence.
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“I will be gone for a while this time.”
Melkor gazes intently at your misty form, his expression a mixture of concern and longing. "Gone where? How long?" The questions escape him, his heart racing in the expanse of the barren void. His mind echoes with an unspoken plea—don't go. Unbearable panic threatens to consume him, the idea of being left alone in this desolate Void unfathomable. Would you, too, leave him like so many before? The thought looms, the talons of the cruel void threatening to seize his very consciousness. Without you, he fears he would be lost.
A soothing sensation envelops him as you crouch before him, your presence a gentle reassurance. Your palms cradle his face with an almost ephemeral touch, and he finds solace in your touch. "I'll be gone for some years, but I'll be back. I promise you." The words carry a weight of sincerity that Melkor can't deny. He knows how well you stay true to your promises.
"Why must you leave?" He voices the question that fills the silence, a sense of shame creeping in as he realizes he wants to stop you, to prevent your departure from his life. The idea of being without you claws at him, a fear he can scarcely admit.
"The song of the world has called me, and I must respond." He observes the faint outlines of your features, your nimble fingers and the glimmer in your eyes that pierce through the mist. "There is someone who looks for me in Arda, and I…" Your words falter, as if grappling for expression. "I must answer their call."
Curiosity intertwines with jealousy within Melkor's heart. Who could be so important that you would leave him behind? "Who is it?" The question slips out before he can fully process it, ages of resentment and bitterness simmering beneath the surface. Who could possibly mean more to you than he does?
“I do not know who it is, but I must meet them. To alter the course they tread," you remain seated, unwavering in your resolve. "I have managed to push the encroaching Void farther this time. It shall maintain its grasp while I am absent, but should challenges arise," your hands take on solidity, cradling a clear glass ball—a marble, a vessel of contained power. "Use this to harness its malevolence. It shall provide aid in times of dire need."
As Melkor's fingers connect with the cool surface of the glass marble, he cannot help but be awed by your form, by the intricate complexity that you embody. "Someone very dear to me once possessed this," you caution, your words laden with warning as you place the artifact in his grasp.
The marble rests in his hands, a tangible token of your existence. Melkor holds it close, a mixture of emotions swirling within him. He closes his eyes, feeling the weight of your presence, even as it begins to wane. "I will await your return," he murmurs, his words carrying a sense of longing.
This time, as your form fades, he can discern the faintest traces of your features—your eyes, your lips, your nose. The cold touch against his forehead lingers as his mind succumbs to a tranquil slumber.
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General Cerdic had weathered countless battles for his king, leading campaigns on bloody battlefields and through uncharted territories. His prestige and the respect of his kingdom's people were well-earned and well-deserved.
However, the man of valor did not inhabit sprawling cities or grand palaces like the king's favored. Instead, Cerdic found his abode in an isolated village, a place where his gallant feats were mostly unknown. He rarely ventured beyond the village's bounds. It was here that he had last held his wife, welcoming their only child into the world.
A modest wooden house provided the backdrop for the years he spent raising his daughter. None could have been more inviting than this homely dwelling. Shielded from the clamor of the world, Cerdic raised you in this tranquil village.
The machinations of palaces and the cunning games of power never encroached upon the life of the general's cherished daughter. Both of you found contentment in the simplicity of life. Days were filled with the routine of tending to a humble farm, and nights were spent dining under the serenity of the stars.
But everything changed when he entered your life—a man dressed in tattered clothes, bearing the weight of his hardships in every step he took. You discovered him by the riverside, his body marked by the brutalities of slavery. His matted hair carried the grime of an existence you couldn't fathom.
"What is your name?" you inquired, met with incoherent murmurs. As you knelt to examine the stranger, your attention was drawn to his clenched fist.
Within his grasp lay a delicate cotton flower, untouched by the filth that marred the rest of his form.
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memes-saved-me · 2 years
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Let's Be Alone Together - The Last Of Us AU
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TW: Implied Abuse, General Apocalypse Topics
"Oh, shit," Billy exclaimed calmly as the concrete floor moved. 
"Billy?" Steve turned to see him frozen in place with a terrified look dawning his face as he watched the cracks begin to surround him. "Shit. Don't move." 
"What does it look like I'm doing?" he hissed as fear took hold. "I'm gonna run for it." 
"No, wait let me get a rope or something." 
Just as Steve stepped backwards to head into the next almost identical office room something dropped below. The floor Billy was standing on jolted a few inches to the left and before he could even take a step towards safety ground it went. 
"Billy!" Steve almost screamed rushing to try and grab him but missing his hand by a second as he fell with the floor. 
He landed on his shoulder, fire under his skin as he looked around to see nothing but darkness and the sound of clicking filling his ears. Knowing he was at least in the basement, spores and infected probably around the corner he looked up to see Steve three stories above looking for a way to climb down. 
Billy waved his hands and shook his head, no noise could be made with how irritated the clickers sounded nearby. He stopped looking and pulled off his backpack to pull out one of the gasmasks before dropping it so Billy could catch it, pull it over his head and gesture towards the way they were originally heading. Steve nodded and disappeared. 
That had gone far too smoothly for something bad not to happen. Their wordless communication and trust much stronger than when they first started this journey. The far ago night back at the zone was a blur of fear, adrenaline and somewhat excitement as they managed to sneak their way through the city and then the smuggler's tunnel until they reached the outside. It hadn't exactly gone to plan, at all really. Originally they would choose a night, leave a note and disappear without notice. What actually happened was almost the opposite. 
"You punched your dad in the face?" Steve's eyes widened as he took in what Billy had just told him. 
"Yeah," Billy replied walking past him into the apartment. "He started talking about...about me not pulling my weight and I could tell he was going to snap so I just hit him first." 
"Shit," he sighed closing the door behind them. "Good you finally showed that piece of shit but the timing could be better." 
"I know." 
Before Neil could find them or the guards could come storming in ready to arrest Billy they took off. Nothing but the supplies Steve had managed to save up, sealed food that would last until they decided to leave but that choice had been taken. How they had even come to the conclusion that they would leave together never made sense to him but he was thankful he was even considered to be taken out of the hellhole that was the San Diego quarantine zone. 
Billy had never been outside of the military borders, seen someone infected or shot a gun at someone or something but Steve had. Steve had done it all. Born in a community and raised there until it was raided and escaped with a few of his friends, Steve knew what the world was actually like beyond the walls and barbed wire. He just didn't talk about it all that much. 
When he showed up everyone was talking about him. The first new member of the city for years, an outsider with information and stories about the real danger that surrounded them but he didn't want to make friends or tell his tales. He was pissed and Billy respected that. So much so that he approached him, offered him some of his food and introduced himself in an attempt to at least make sure he had someone to talk to. After that, they were inseparable to the point Billy's father started to take notice. 
Over the years they shared things, confided in one another about nightmares and Steve pieced together what was going on at home. Something no one else knew of but after that Billy could run away to his apartment when it got too much for safety which he gladly offered. Long nights spent talking about everything and nothing at all. Their plans for the future but most importantly Steve's being one of the most prevalent. The location of Hawkins Indiana came up over and over because that was where his group were heading when they got separated, he just happened to be picked up by a scouting group after getting lost. 
The truth was, Neil hadn't set out to punish Billy for his laziness that night but rather his behaviour around Steve. Ever since his 15-year-old brain caught sight of him that day in the street, he was obsessed. It was just a confirmation that the crush he once had on Wayne wasn't because there was no one else around to be attracted to but something else which scared him, but worse angered his father. Steve was everything Billy wished he was and kind at the same time. He smiled whenever he saw him, hugged Billy after a few days of not seeing him and laughed at his jokes as if they were actually funny. There was just something about him which sent him running headfirst into the closest thing to hell on Earth. 
Billy sighed and crawled to hide behind what looked like some sort of machinery, the clicking only getting closer as he felt fear begin to set in. He had three bullets and two lessons of shooting to get him out of this but worse he knew Steve was making his way down there. He peered into the hallway and saw the flash of a door at the far end, the way out within reach but then he saw the familiar silhouette of an infected. It was too dark to tell if it was a runner or not so he shot back through the doorway and tried to ready himself. 
That was when he saw the television remote sitting on the chair beside him and reached for it. If he couldn't fight them off he could at least run past them. His shoulder burning as he lifted his arm to throw it as far as he could across the room and hope they entered through the other doorway. It hit what sounded like metal grating and sure enough set them all off running towards it. 
With his shotgun loaded and his mind trying to stop him, he took off down the hall. His fingers just gripped the metal bar handle when he glanced behind him to see a running heading right for him. Instinctively he went to fire his weapon but logic kicked in and before it could sink its rotten infected teeth into his flesh, he grabbed his pocket knife and managed to jam it just behind what looked like an ear but was slowly becoming something much more disturbing. It slumped to the group which caught the attention of the clickers but before they could even detect him, Billy was through the door and sprinting up the crumbling staircase without a sign of stopping. 
Running from infected had become commonplace. Multiple times Steve and him were left no choice but to hope they could reach the exit before a fungus covered hand could grab them first. Thankfully, they always made it just in time to slam the doors and barricade them well enough to buy them some time. The incident that played over and over in Billy's mind most nights wasn't too long ago. Probably about two weeks into this adventure of theirs, a clicker had wandered into their makeshift camp in an old gas station in the middle of the desert leaving them frozen on the floor eating what canned food they found in the back room. 
It clicked and twitched, searching for movement but they didn't dare even breathe as it walked closer and closer until they both moved at the same time to take it out but in the process not only missed but landed entwined. Steve's leg flung over Billy's waist, his arms stuck underneath which resulted in Billy shooting the thing in a panic. 
After it dropped to the ground they stayed there listening for anything, even a creak and they were out of there but nothing happened. Instead, they were left pressed against one another with their faces inches apart. It felt like some sort of rom-com moment but Steve very quickly pulled himself free before anything could happen, even if Billy wanted nothing more than it too. 
They laughed it off, said they should come up with non-verbal cues to stop that from ever happening again so for the rest of that night they sat coming up with ideas which made each other laugh until Steve got some rest. Billy left running through what would have happened if he had just gone for it. The years of waiting for a chance and there it was. Gone. 
It just felt so good to be around Steve constantly. The random topics which they rambled on about to distract them from the fear of being out in the open while going through cities or driving until the cars ran out of gas and continuing on foot, how he mumbled in his sleep, the shared meals which always ended in Steve eating more than Billy, the way he smiled when he woke up, how gently he would warn him of danger with a soft hand on his arm or shoulder, the songs he would sing to himself but most of all that he seemed to genuinely care. 
No one had cared about Billy. Steve, however, always asked if he was alright. If he was hurt, tired or hungry. At first, it felt strange, like he wanted to know something deeply personal but then he realised it was normal to ask these things. Especially in a situation like theirs. The relentless need to watch every corner of every room for any sign of movement. Listen for a click or a groan as if Billy hadn't been slowly developing tinnitus from the gunshots, falls and that one car crash because Steve tried to drive and it ended as Billy had expected. This drop was the final accident to cause the quiet static noise in his left ear, the right having a low pitched beeping which would come and go.  
When his converse finally reached the first-floor exit he heard the door only a story below burst open and what sounded like at least three infected coming through it, groans and screams filling the stairwell as he tried to push open the door and for a brief second panicked like he never had before but then saw that he needed to pull and soon enough he was on the other side with the infected having a difficult time getting in. For a moment he caught his breath, let himself laugh and almost cry as the absolute terror and fear that he was actually going to die was let out at last. His hand gripping his shirt as his lungs struggled to take in air for a moment before he heard something running towards him and looked up to see a runner. 
He dodged and managed to push it back just enough to pull out his shotgun and aimed for its head. Perfect shot. The noise echoed throughout the office room, the cubicles now even more of a threat than he had even realised. Knowing if something was on this floor it would be coming his way without a doubt. 
"Shit," he sighed and took off running again looking for any signs of an exit so he could get out and find Steve. "Come on." 
Everything was falling apart. The exit signs on the floor and the departments were smudged and covered with either blood or plants but just as he managed to find the directions to the reception he heard shouting. Steve. It was coming from the floor above. 
"Steve!" he started to yell sprinting towards the main staircase but when he got there the steps themselves were gone. He pulled off his mask to get a better look but that just made the outlook of the situation worse. "I'm in the stairwell!" 
"Billy?" Steve finally replied. 
"Come to the stairs. I know the way out." 
That was a lie. He knew that if they went straight down here they might get back onto the street where they had started but if that was safe or actually a way out, he didn't know for sure. Still, he continued to make sure Steve could hear where he was until finally he came running around the corner and almost fell but managed to stop just as his sneakers tipped over the edge. 
"Are you okay?" Billy asked getting as close as he could. 
"Well, there's a room of infected about to get out and get us but other than that? Peachy," he tilted his head and crouched down to reach for Billy's hand. 
"If you jump I'll catch you." 
"How romantic," Steve tried to joke but there was no charm or smile to go with it. Just fear. 
Yet, he did jump and send the two of them onto the dirty floor with a thud. Steve landed on top of Billy as his hands moved to hold his waist out of instinct while trying to catch him but when Billy looked up at him, the fear was gone. A smile had appeared on his face and he was looking right at Billy with such joy he almost had to look away. That was when Steve leaned down slightly, his eyes closing. Lips less than an inch away from Billy's when a door on the floor above gave way and the infected started piling out towards the stairs. 
Without saying a word he pulled back, jumped to his feet and pulled Billy up with him. Their fingers still interlocked as he made a run for the stairs. Steve jumped down first, a five-foot drop to where the steps had fallen. He waited for Billy and the two of them made it onto the still functional staircase until finally, they reached the ground floor, Billy's mind racing as he tried to focus on staying alive rather than what had just happened. 
The reception was empty, glass walls surrounding them as they saw the main entrance only metres away. Neither of them stopped until they almost crashed right into the clear door only to find it was locked. Steve looked to Billy and then around the room for any other exit but there was none and the crowd of infected were just getting to the bottom of the stairs. 
"Fuck this," Billy grabbed one of the chairs sitting nearby and threw it at the door. 
Somehow, it shattered and without hesitation, they climbed through and began running down the street until they reached a flooded patch. The infected far behind and only a few now heading their way so they jumped. Neither of them knew if the other could swim or even swim fast enough to get to the other side before one of the runners could grab them. Billy, so focused on seeing if Steve was close he almost lost his weapon but managed to stop it from slipping off his shoulder to the bottom of the water. 
They both made it to the other side where Billy climbed up onto a half-submerged car pulling Steve up to look back to see they were no longer being chased. The infected looking around for them, clearly unable to see at this distance but as he let out a sigh of relief he felt his body being pulled and suddenly Steve was hugging him. Arms wrapped tightly around his body, face buried in his neck. 
"I thought you were dead," Steve breathed into his skin, setting it alight as he moved his hands to return the embrace. "We need to be more careful. I can't lose you." 
That took his breath away. Every fibre of his being screamed that this was different. That Steve felt something just as he did but he couldn't bring himself to do...anything. Instead, he savoured the moment. Held on as he took in the rather eye-watering smell of them both as the stagnant floodwater took hold of their clothes but he didn't care. 
Finally, Steve pulled away but kept his hands on Billy's arms, looking into his eyes with a smile before letting go to pull his backpack around himself and squat down to riffle through it.  
"I found this," in his hand was a small children's toy of a wolf. He let Billy take it, inspect it and then look back at Steve confused. "I know you mentioned liking wolves and I found this." 
It was old and scuffed, probably left when everyone abandoned the cities all those years before either of them were even born. A world they never got to see or know but the remains gave them an idea of what society used to be. The toy, however, was kind of a mystery to Billy for a moment. He had never been given a present for no reason, his birthday being the only time he received something for nothing, so as he stood there surrounded by the buildings overtaken but nature he almost cried. Tears welled in his eyes, his voice unusable or he would crack so he nodded and smiled. 
"I know it's a kid's toy but we all deserve a little someth-." 
Billy almost knocked him off the car as his arms flung up and wrapped around the startled boy who had just managed to put his backpack back on. "Thank you." 
Steve let out a soft laugh, his arms coming up to hold Billy in return. "Of course." 
The two of them pulled away but instead of letting go, Steve ran his hands down Billy's arms until he interlaced their fingers. His eyes moved to look into Billy's as the world seemed to go silent. No, singing birds or rustling trees in the wind. Just them and the sound of his own heart hammering against his chest. 
"Don't freak out," Steve began. "But while I was running around freaking out because I thought you were dead I realised I really can't lose you. I'd be a disaster and without you, I would never have left the zone. You're the only person I have left for sure and I just...oh, I can't breathe." 
The entire time he was speaking Billy was falling apart, his tears finally breaking free and streaming down his cheeks. Caught on every word coming out from his lips as he processed them one by one but now it was Steve was needed help. His eyes shifted and looked away for a moment before focusing back on Billy. 
"Me too," Billy said trying to calm him. "I'd be screwed without you." 
"No," he sighed. "How do I say this?" 
"What?" 
"Fuck it," Steve took in a deep breath and moved. 
His hands cupped Billy's face as his body pressed against his, their lips meeting as he felt his legs go weak, overwhelmed by his nerves firing off all over his body. Steve was kissing him, he was kissing him back. It was all too much but before he could overthink it he fell into it. Hands running up his sides to get a grip on his jacket as it went deeper. Tears and floodwater took hold of his tastebuds. Neither of them showing any signs of pulling away until Billy did to catch his breath for a mere second as he let out a laugh, never losing Steve's eyes as he grinned in return before going back in. 
The two of them completely oblivious to the world around them, the danger hiding somewhere waiting but they didn't care. It wasn't until something moved nearby that Steve pulled away to look in the direction of the noise, hands still holding Billy as he watched him checking if there truly was something to be worried about. 
"I should almost die more often," Billy chuckled trying to break the sudden awkward tension. 
"But if you die how are we supposed to have sex?" Steve smirked and jumped off the car without looking at Billy's red face. 
"For real?" he asked chasing after him. 
"Wait, you've had sex right?" 
Steve stopped and spun around to see Billy avoiding his eyes. "Not exactly. I kissed Stacy once." 
"Oh, this is going to be fun," he teased turning back to continue to the main road. 
"What does that mean?" Billy shoved him slightly. 
"You'll see. I'd tell you but we better find somewhere safe to get dry and stay the night." 
The two of them laughed as Steve playfully nudged him but all Billy could do was look at him, watch his hair move in the wind, his eyes glancing his way every so often, their hands brushing against each other as they walked but it was the sudden realisation that after all these years Billy wasn't as abnormal as he was made to feel. What was possibly about to come next for them almost making him glow at the thought. If this was a different world they would discuss it, have a long conversation about what had just happened but they didn't have the time in that moment to stop and talk. Night was coming and with that brought the reality of where they were, Billy would just have to wait and see what Steve had in mind. 
AO3
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red-dyed-sarumane · 11 months
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i always gotta give a weird one so...top 5 letters? mine are i a k x y
hm. i think. q x v r o. i like them.
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frecklesandfanfics · 2 years
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https://archiveofourown.org/works/37159618/chapters/100929354
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ritterblood · 2 years
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🍇  :    how would my muse describe their childhood?  how much has it impacted the person they are now,  or will become as an adult?  around what age did they or will they start to mature,  and why?  do they wish to go back to their days as a child,  or have they embraced adulthood?  
let’s get fruity
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okay so to better give context on my headcanons, i feel like i gotta give a smol timeline of where i saw haurchefant as having passed his childhood :  with knowing his mother was a maidservant at the fortemps household before she got pregnant and likely got relieved from that service once the pregnancy was found out  ━ and who it was from, moreover,  i headcanon that haurchefant did actually spend his early childhood with his mother living in or close to the brume and only came to live in the fortemps manor with edmont when he was around 9 years old, after his mother fell ill and eventually passed away.  i base this on the fact that haurchefant very much seems to remember his mother as a righteous, beautiful, but ultimately quite frail woman whom he seems to cherish in his memories a lot. 
this just to say that there are two kinda separate phases to his childhood ━ the part lived with his mother and the part lived with his father, the latter of which definitely had the biggest impact on him, but the former of which he looks back on more fondly altogether.  
so if he were asked to describe his childhood, he will largely go back to those earlier years with his mother and speak of his days spent playing with the other orphans or spent in the chocobo stables as his youth, or speak of the mischief and shenanigans he got up to with francel, estinien or aymeric ( who, in my canon were his second and third closest childhood friends ). in short, he will focus on the few positives he has from that time, rather than focus on the treatment he suffered in the fortemps household for simply being who he was. 
that said, it is undeniable that the latter has greatly impacted haurchefant who he is today.  it is written in canon that the lady fortemps, though imo never physically abusive, did go out of her way to make him feel as unwanted and unwelcome as possible in his own home. in his short story with francel is is very obviously implied that she would bar him from going to social gatherings or parties, or was made to wait outside or in the corner while the rest mingled. through dialogue with artoirel, it was made clear that she did her best to keep her own children from interacting with haurchefant and that she never really made it a secret that she despised him, made him feel lesser and didn’t want him around and that edmont did little to stand up to her in her behavior.  in line with this, i also have the personal headcanons that she would not allow him to be tutored together with artoirel or emmanellain, that his chambers were in the servants’ quarters rather than with the rest of the family and that he would get smaller portions to eat, whenever she could get away with it. furthermore, he also got very little to no physical affection in those years and had to likely suffer a constant barrage of either the cold shoulder or passive aggressive remarks from her side. 
the fact that edmont quite obviously favored him didn’t exactly help in this regard. 
i have written a few headcanons on how this impacted him. we already know from the short story that haurchefant struggled with anger and resentment, a fact very clearly shown in how he completely went apeshit on the bandits that dared to kidnap and hurt the only friend he felt he had at the time. despite the desire to make his father proud, since despite their complicated relationship he did love edmont, he also rebelled quite a lot and was prone to losing his temper and getting into fights, especially once he started becoming serious about wanting to be a knight. and even though those outbursts of anger and aggression have very much mellowed in maturing in his role as commander and through the bond he formed with his men, i also believe the way he grew up has deeply impacted his sense of self-worth and the way he reads people ( tldr; he is good at reading and assessing people and people’s moods because his upbringing taught him to be hyper-vigilant of people’s motives quite early on, especially when it came to his stepmother ). it also caused him to mature far too quickly and push himself into this role as knight too quickly as well, imo. 
lastly, he has definitely embraced adulthood. he is in a much better place now than he was, with all his experiences and the bonds he’s forged from childhood to adulthood, those that have stuck with him, having made him into someone who chooses, above all, to be kind and open to anyone, to be exactly the kind of person standing in diametric opposition to anyone who would treat a person the way he’s been treated simply because of his blood or inheritance. 
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evidently-endless · 10 days
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i think we should remind musicians they can absolutely make up little stories for their songs btw. it doesn’t have to be about them at all. you can invent a guy and put him in situations to music. time honoured tradition in fact.
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officialspec · 2 months
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modern au but set in brisbane. is this anything
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daisywords · 6 months
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One of my biggest nitpicks in fiction concerns the feeding of babies. Mothers dying during/shortly after childbirth or the baby being separated form the mother shortly after birth is pretty common in fiction. It is/was also common enough in real life, which is why I think a lot of writers/readers don't think too hard about this. however. Historically, the only reason the vast majority of babies survived being separated from their mother was because there was at least one other woman around to breastfeed them. Before modern formula, yes, people did use other substitutes, but they were rarely, if ever, nutritionally sufficient.
Newborns can't eat adult food. They can't really survive on animal milk. If your story takes place in a world before/without formula, a baby separated from its mother is going to either be nursed by someone else, or starve.
It doesn't have to be a huge plot point, but idk at least don't explicitly describe the situation as excluding the possibility of a wetnurse. "The father or the great grandmother or the neighbor man or the older sibling took and raised the baby completely alone in a cave for a year." Nope. That baby is dead I'm sorry. "The baby was kidnapped shortly after birth by a wizard and hidden away in a secret tower" um quick question was the wizard lactating? "The mother refused to see or touch her child after birth so the baby was left to the care of the ailing grandfather" the grandfather who made the necessary arrangements with women in the neighborhood, right? right? OR THAT GREAT OFFENDER "A newborn baby was left on the doorstep and they brought it in and took care of it no issues" What Are You Going to Feed That Baby. Hello?
Like. It's not impossible, but arrangements are going to have to be made. There are some logistics.
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You know, it's kinda funny how much of high fantasy centers around kings and nobility and courtly intrigue considering that the archetypal high fantasy, Lord of the Rings, had the rather explicit moral of "saving the world is up to this backwater hick and his gardener because no politician, least of all inherited nobility, would have the ability to see past their own ambition and throw away a weapon". Oh sure, Aragorn is a great king and all, but there's a reason he's over there running a distraction ring while the hobbits do the real work. Sauron loses because he gets distracted by kings and armies and great battles (i.e. typical high fantasy stuff) letting Frodo and Sam sneak through his back door and blow it all to hell.
Just saying, maybe old Jirt knew what he was saying when he said that the small folk doing their best and holding to each other was more powerful than a dozen alliances and superweapons and we should respect him for it.
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lgbtlunaverse · 7 months
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Nothing will dispell the "the curtains were just blue" myth faster than writing something yourself, because the amount of pretentious symbolism i am putting in my silly little fanfics is ridiculous. I mean SO much with these words, literally every single one of them. This fic has twenty five typos and zero correct uses of punctuation but if there's curtains you bet your ass I put thought into what colour they were.
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bizarrelittlemew · 1 year
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Are you frustrated you can't leave second kudos on AO3? or third kudos? or whatever-who's-counting kudos?
Well, have I got the html for you!
Plop any of these in a comment (by copy&pasting the code) to make an author's day and show your appreciation!
Second kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/tHMjbb6/second-kudos.png" alt="second kudos">
Third kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/52bggQH/third-kudos.png" alt="third kudos">
nth kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/6y7qGtC/nth-kudos.png" alt="nth kudos">
yet another kudos: <img src="https://i.ibb.co/wKtcj0s/yet-another-kudos.png" alt="yet another kudos">
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It will look something like this (and will be transparent with white outline on dark backgrounds):
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Feel free to spread and use these as much as you like! (and if you have ideas for other variations, let me know ✌️)
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black-quadrant · 4 months
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sometimes all you need is one passionate person who goes berserk for your work to keep you creating
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hofudlaus · 10 months
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also posting these two on their own :-) based on This post by @outpastthemoat
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magnusbae · 10 months
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To illustrate this post by @mayahawkse I would like to visualize to you the difference:
A post in 2023:
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A post in 2014:
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A zoom out of the same post:
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This is what a community looks like.
See how in 2023 almost all of the reblogs come from the OP, from their few hours/days in the tag search. Meanwhile in 2014 the % of reblogs from OP is insignificant, because most of the reblogs come from the reblogs within the fandom, within the micro-communities formed there. You didn't need to rely on tags, or search, or being featured. Because the community took care of you, made sure to pass the work between themselves and onto their blog and exposed their followers to it. It kept works alive for years.
It's not JUST the reblog/like ratio that causing this issue, it's the type of interaction people have. They're content with scrolling and liking the search engine, instead of actually having a reblogging relationship with other blogs in their community.
Anyways, if you want to see more content you like, the only true way to make it happen is to reblog it. Likes do not forward content in no way but making OP feel nice. Reblogs on the other hand make content eternal. They make it relevant, they make it exist outside of a fickle tumblr search that hardly works on the best of days.
If you want more of something, reblog it.
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roseworth · 10 months
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i wish you guys lived inside my head the fics in here go crazy
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transhuman-priestess · 9 months
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