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#also i drew their armour!! be proud of me!!
kylobith · 4 months
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LotR Week - Day 4 (14th Dec)
friendship | family | loyalty
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Word count: 3,668
Flutes, fiddles and harps enlivened the streets of Minas Tirith on the day that the silver crown graced King Elessar’s head. Chants, clamours and cheers resounded from the gate to the citadel in celebration of the rebirth of Gondor. Fairy lights and colourful banners hung between the houses and the royal colours were hoisted high from the roofs, if not from the facades and the ramparts. As the people raised their pints and cried out their elation from windows and doors alike, giddy of heart and red of face, it seemed that the promise of a bright future had reached them at last. All looked up to the White Tree, now certain that it shall flourish and blossom anew. Hope had returned.
At the citadel, a banquet was thrown in honour of the new monarch and his company. In the Hall of the Kings and onto the terrace where the coronation had occurred, distinguished guests walked out and about, goblet in hand and lavishly clad. They mingled and met, talked and shared, bowed and laughed. In the crowd stood Men and Hobbits alike, Elves and Dwarves equal. Hearts were lighter, as were their shoulders now rid of armour, with the exception of military leaders. Common soldiers had been permitted to shed them for the festivities, facilitating movement and dancing.
Aragorn moved from group to group with his beloved Arwen at his arm, in order to thank them warmly for their presence and for their loyal service to Gondor and the greater good. By the end of the feast, he would have met about everyone, now that he had paraded the streets of his new seat, meeting with the people he swore to serve and protect until he last drew breath. His arrival and ascension were met with unanimous enthusiasm by the population, who had long suffered the decline of their realm and the tarnishing of the glory their land had once known. He intended to restore all of it and more. This time, Gondor would never falter again; it would stand tall and proud, strong and loud until any evil-wisher would be vanquished. All the while, he could not help but think to himself how much he wished that Boromir were there to see his cherished city come to life again.
Farther away on the terrace, the remaining members of the Fellowship gathered organically, clinking their glasses and exchanging smiles. Towering over them, Gandalf looked ahead to watch the king, his chin raised and his eyes wrinkling at the corners.
‘It is a new era begun,’ he announced in peaceful solemnity. ‘It should not be long until the White Tree burgeons again.’
‘It is indeed,’ Legolas acquiesced, sipping at wine. ‘I, for one, am honoured to witness this change.’
‘Change will be an onerous task still, whether in Gondor or in Rohan,’ the wizard continued with a nod of his head towards the Elf. ‘Nothing will ever be the same again. And I can only imagine that it also rings true to any of you. Tell me, my friends, what will you endeavour to do next?’
There was a momentary pause as his companions thought about what their future entailed. Their perilous journey, only just completed had left no room for contemplation about what they would do once peace was restored and the enemy defeated. Starved and strained, sore and struggling, the mere idea of home was nothing but a fantasy, a faraway illusion whose existence they so often doubted. At times, it had felt as though their fight had occupied their whole lives. As though they had been born right in the middle of combat and left to fend for themselves, or grown up climbing mountainsides and venturing through cursed marshes. When they were finally given the luxury to ponder about it, ideas and inspiration eluded them.
To nobody’s surprise, it was Legolas who answered first, running his fingertip along the rim of his cup.
‘I will return to Taur-nu-Fuin and report to my father. Then, I suppose we can finally clear our beloved woods of its evils and see it reborn.’
‘I remember the days when Mirkwood was a most inviting forest,’ Gandalf responded, rubbing his bearded chin pensively. ‘When birds and butterflies flew by each other’s side and deer and boars feasted on the plentiful grass. It was nearly as green as the meadows in the Shire!’
The Elf nodded knowingly, his thin lips curving into a joyful grin at the recollection. Yes, there used to be a time when Mirkwood was not so… mirky. His kin had witnessed it, but none of the living Men, Hobbits and Dwarves had been graced with its fulfilling sight.
Gandalf eyed his other companions, wondering whether they had plans once they returned home. The Hobbits shrugged and shook their heads, exchanging innocent glances.
‘We will return to the Shire, yes, but what we are going to do there, we don’t know,’ Merry said.
‘There is this book that Uncle Bilbo started to write,’ Frodo spoke up, his gaze lost ahead of him, as though seeing something that none other could behold. ‘He left blank pages for me to write my own adventure. Perhaps I should do just that.’
‘Yes, that is a wonderful idea, Frodo,’ the wizard chimed. ‘If you do, none of the fallen will have truly disappeared. They will live in your tale.’
Frodo bit the inside of his cheek, the tips of his eyebrows pointing upwards and creasing his forehead as he considered Gandalf for a second. Whether the old man was right or not, he could not tell. Maybe it depended on one’s belief. Or, perhaps, it was another way for the wizard to protect the young Hobbit’s feelings. It was something that had irritated him as of late, although he never showed his annoyance at it. Everyone walked on eggshells around him, weighing their words and smiling more than usual. Why would they do it to him, and not to the others?
As he distracted himself from his frustration by tasting the bitter pale ale of Gondor, it was Sam’s turn to express his enthusiasm.
‘I believe I will return to gardening and add flowers from the various lands we crossed on our adventure to my beds,’ he beamed. ‘But I will also make time to tend to Mr Frodo as he heals.’
‘And we just don’t know,’ Merry and Pippin said in unison, before the latter added: ‘Perhaps I will pester Sam from time to time to keep things fun.’
‘You do that, and I’ll make sure that Farmer Maggot gets his hands on you for stealing his crops!’
All of it was in good fun, of course. As soon as the words had left Sam’s mouth, they were followed by a hearty laugh as he wrapped an arm around the younger Hobbit’s shoulders, squeezing him against his side and clinking their pints together.
‘Well, it seems that there will be much merriness in the Shire after all, and I should worry about neither of you,’ Gandalf chuckled, before bringing his attention to the Dwarf smoking his pipe with a foaming mug of ale in his other hand. ‘What about you, Gimli?’
‘Aye, I would set out to recapture Moria if I weren’t on my own,’ he announced in his husky voice. ‘I’d much like to see my cousin’s hall restored to its former glory. If Minas Tirith can, Khazad-Dûm should know the same fate!’
‘I see. Perhaps you should seek the help of Ironfoot. Now that the Balrog is gone, I am certain that he would be willing to send troops to rid the Misty Mountains of its goblins.’
Gimli blew out the smoke from his lungs and swigged the ale, leaving foam bubbling on the copper hairs of his moustache and the tip of his large nose.
‘Dáin will never agree to it. He lost too many men in the mines already.’
‘He would be foolish to refuse. Besides, the fallen Dwarves deserve a proper resting place, not a forsaken mass grave.’
‘Aye, they do.’
Before he could take another sip of his beverage, a group of children emerged from behind him and jumped on his back. Taken by surprise, Gimli let go of the mug — narrowly saved by Legolas’ sharp reflexes — and his pipe, eyes wide and arms waving around to try and rid him of his assailants. The children held on, roaring with laughter as they laid their hands on the Dwarf’s head. Swinging from side to side, trying not to tumble down, Gimli shouted and protested, cursing his mates for watching the scene in amusement and laughing along with the little ones. Once their cheeky deed was done, the four boys fled, and the little girl accompanying them pecked his cheek before hitching her skirts up and following them.
‘Ah, children,’ Gandalf exclaimed, his shoulders still shaking from his laughter. ‘I believe that two of them are the offsprings of the Lady of Lossarnach.’
‘Noble or not, they are little rascals all the same,’ Gimli grumbled, patting off his sleeves and his tunic. His motion was interrupted, however, when the stifled chuckles of the Hobbits reached his ears. ‘What?’
‘Don’t you think that Gimli smells better all of a sudden?’ Pippin asked Merry, eyes watering as he restrained himself to keep his composure.
‘He sure does, Pip! Like the loveliest lady!’
‘What are ye two blabbering abo—’
As the Dwarf’s eyes lowered to his tunic, he caught sight of daisies adorning his beard. He patted the top of his head and felt flowers in his hair as well, dropping his hand by his side as the pair of Hobbit finally allowed themselves to give in to a fit of hilarity. Gimli snatched his pipe from the ground and proceeded to wipe the mouthpiece from dust and gravel, before retrieving his mug from Legolas.
‘Oh yes, make fun of the Dwarf! I was attacked, I’m telling you! Attacked!’
Gimli’s remark did not quieten his peers’ amusement. Rather the opposite. Merry and Pippin scampered off as he grumbled in their direction, and Gandalf seized the opportunity to talk to Frodo and Sam alone. Left with Legolas, the Dwarf sighed and thanked him for saving his pint. They stood in silence for a few seconds, before Gimli shook his head again.
‘Bairns…’
‘Well, they certainly made you look rather elegant,’ Legolas teased with an eyebrow raised. ‘They managed what I could not.’
‘Nobody can change this Dwarf,’ Gimli scoffed and puffed his pipe.
‘Certainly not.’
The Dwarf peeled one of the daisies from his beard and instantly heard the gasps from the children a few feet away. He met their gazes and took notice of the flowers they had gathered in the palms of their hands. They loomed over him as a threat, ominous and menacing.
‘Ah, well,’ he said loud enough for the children to hear, sliding the daisy back in the coarse red hairs of his beard, ‘I might as well leave them in.’
‘Good choice,’ the Elf acquiesced. ‘Children are not too bad, are they? They have seen their share of suffering here. They should embrace their childhood now.’
‘Aye, aye, they should. Perhaps they should even make me a flower crown. And one for you too, Elf.’
Legolas laughed and finished his wine, watching the little humans tiptoeing through the crowd of nobles in search of their next victim to embellish. There had been a time when he had wished for children of his own. He had longed to hold his flesh and blood in his arms, to look after and coddle until the bairn would have been old enough to train in archery with him. Often, he pictured himself braiding his child’s hair to keep it out of their youthful face until they were able to do it themselves. And such a day he would have fervently dreaded, for it would have meant that his help and love in such simple gestures would no longer be needed.
But after all that he had seen and lived, the idea of producing offspring sounded much less attractive to him than it used to. For once, he found himself yearning to care for the living more than for the unborn. He felt no sorrow at such thoughts; if anything, there was peace in his decision. He would gladly tend to the children of his dearest friends, but having his own would be out of the question.
Lost in thought, it was the unexpected pressure against the side of his neck that dragged him out of his reverie. Blinking in confusion, he caught a glimpse of Gimli folding his arm back against him and looked down at his pale blond locks, among which one daisy was nestled. Legolas chuckled and took it out, tucking it above his ear instead with a smirk.
‘Much better,’ he commented, flipping his hair over his shoulder. ‘See? You are not that much of a grouch after all. You do have a heart underneath that tough shell of yours.’
‘Of course, I do, pointy-eared lad!’
‘You do indeed. You have a lot of it, I must say. It is one of the reasons why I like you.’
Gimli flinched and furrowed his bushy brows as he stared up at the Elf. His heart seemed to have stopped as all colours drained from his face. His mouth opened and closed, yet no sound escaped it. Not a peep. Out of panic, he snapped his head around and called out.
‘What is it, lad? I’m comin’, I’m comin’! Sorry, Pippin is calling me.’
With this said Gimli hurried away, cursing under his breath, leaving a dumbfounded Legolas behind. The latter shrugged it off and approached one of the tables to find something to nibble on.
The celebration continued until late in the night. Dancing was now the main preoccupation, and many were the pairs twirling and pressing their hands together in the lofty hall. Aragorn and Arwen engaged in the most elegant choreography, once taught to them in Rivendell. Sam danced with one of the few children still awake, complimenting her on her steps and spinning her around to trigger a laugh from her. Merry and Pippin leapt around the place, inebriated and their mouths full of food — it was a wonder that they had not yet choked on any of it. Farther towards the thrones, one could see the tall, dark-haired beauty from the coastal lands of Gondor bowing and circling around the unusually bashful, yet pleased king of Rohan in a traditional dance of the realm. Under the arches, resting their weary feet on a bench, Faramir placed his head on Éowyn’s shoulder as she weaved her fingers through his hair, spying on her flustered brother with a bemused stare.
Gimli did not partake in any of that. He leant against one of the columns, drinking more ale and stealing fleeting glances at Legolas. The Elf seemed deep in conversation with Prince Imrahil, unaware of the Dwarf’s scrutiny and scowl.
What did Legolas mean by what he said? Gimli could not wrap his head around it. Was there something on the Elf’s mind that eluded him or that he was too blind to see? Had he done anything to warrant such words?
When Legolas bowed to Imrahil and excused himself, Gimli instantly looked away, focusing instead on Sam and Frodo sharing a pastry while sitting on a bench on the opposite side of the hall. The Elf approached Aragorn and Arwen and whispered something in their ears, which he could not discern with the music and the clamour of the guests cluttering his hearing. The king pulled Legolas into a warm embrace and patted his back, smiling and speaking words that did not reach the Dwarf either. Arwen did the same, and smiled sweetly at the Wood Elf, squeezing his arm before waving at him as he left the festivities.
Yes, he might as well go, Gimli thought while grumbling, lighting up the weed he had shoved into his pipe while observing the scene. If Legolas was in the mood to pronounce such silly words, then he could not be helped.
Blowing out a cloud of smoke, the Dwarf pressed the back of his head to the pillar behind him. Despite everything that was happening around him, he could not get the damned Elf’s words out of his head. He had tried to follow conversations, but it took less than two sentences for him to find his mind wandering back to his embarrassment earlier. Gimli scrunched up his face and grunted. He needed to know.
Once in his quarters, Legolas stretched his back and sighed in relief, his head buzzing after leaving the constant hubbub of the coronation feast. He delicately removed his belt and unbuttoned his silken tunic, lifting the intricate circlet from his brow and placing it back on its velvet cushion on the nightstand. Disrobing and carefully folding or hanging the pieces of his garment, he entered the bathroom and picked up the satin robe he had left there in the morning, covering his bare body with it.
Before he was even done tying it around his waist, there was a soft knock upon the door.
‘Ent—’
A loud bang thundered across the room as a furious Gimli kicked the door in and entered without letting him finish his invitation. The Elf shrieked and nearly tore the robe off himself in a start. Not giving him a chance to protest this violent entrance, the Dwarf pointed his finger at him and stomped over to him.
‘What did you mean earlier? I’ve thought about it over and over again and it makes no sense to me!’ he roared.
‘What are you talking about?!’
‘You said that you liked me! Now, what was that about?!’
Legolas stared at Gimli for a few seconds, before erupting in a fit of laughter. He squeezed the Dwarf’s shoulder as he passed him by to close the door, relieved to see that it was not damaged despite the forceful kick it received. His friend watched him in confusion, an eyebrow raised as the Elf went to sit on the edge of the bed and patted the space next to him.
As Gimli joined him, maintaining some distance between the two of them, Legolas grinned and tilted his head.
‘What I meant by that,’ he started, his voice quiet, ‘is that I like you. Nothing more, nothing less.’
‘I don’t understand, lad.’
The Elf snorted and rubbed his bare heel against the wooden floor.
‘Is it so difficult to conceive that I might consider you as my friend?’
‘Well, it’s odd comin’ from an Elf.’
‘Ah, that is what worries you.’
‘Mh. Not really.’
Gimli sighed and relaxed his shoulders, dropping his hands onto his lap. Now that he knew for sure that there had been no hidden meaning behind any of it, he felt rather foolish. The heat rising to his cheeks reddened them into a similar hue to that of his hair and beard.
‘You know,’ Legolas intoned, tucking his hair behind his pointed ear, ‘now that the Fellowship is dissolved, I fear that I will lose most of what I hold dear. And you are part of it. I sincerely hope that the end of our journey does not mean that we must sever our ties.’
‘Nah, laddie, don’t worry ‘bout that,’ Gimli guffawed, patting him sharply in the back and sliding a little closer to his mate. ‘We’ve been brothers in arms through the worst our world has seen. There’s no way that I’ll let this happen.’
Silence settled in as Legolas gave him a nod of gratitude. He noticed that Gimli’s hair was still full of drying flowers, and he could not help the grin from forming on his lips. Indeed, the Dwarf had much more heart than he had originally given him credit for when they met in Rivendell at the start of their saga. And even after the horrors they had encountered, he would not trade it for anything in the whole world. Neither would Gimli, although he did not express it openly.
What Gimli did express, however, was his desire to see Legolas again once the celebrations ended.
‘Will ya visit me in Erebor?’ he asked bashfully.
‘I would love nothing more. And you are welcome anytime in Mirkwood. After all, we do not live so far from each other, do we?’
‘No, I suppose not.’
Another moment of contemplation lingered as they gazed at each other. An idea bubbled in the Elf’s head, but he hesitated to voice it at first. When the Dwarf raised his eyebrows, taking notice of his conflicted expression, Legolas yielded.
‘You spoke of retaking Moria,’ he intoned. ‘I can try to speak to my father about it so he can send some of his men to accompany you. It will take some convincing, but I am sure that we can find a compromise with him. And even if he refuses, I will gladly help you reconquer your cousin’s hall if you accept me.’
Gimli grinned and bowed his head.
‘Aye. There’ll always be a place for you in my company. It’s about time that Elves and Dwarves bury the hatchet. It’s caused more harm than good to our kin, and your deeds likely earned the sympathy of my kind.’
Legolas placed his hand over his friend’s and squeezed it gently, smiling from ear to ear. The twinkle in his eye pushed the Dwarf to say something else.
‘Besides, counting dead Orcs is only fun when it’s you I’m competing against, lad.’
‘You stand no chance against me, Gimli.’
‘We’ll see about that!’
They shared a hearty laugh and Legolas cupped the back of Gimli’s head, tilting it closer to his until their foreheads touched. Understanding it as a gesture of affection and acceptance from the Elf, the Dwarf held Legolas’ head in turn and grinned.
‘I’m glad that I know you, brother.’
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skitskatdacat63 · 6 months
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im gonna have to apologise for the absolute random sidetrack of the day but i found the right armour and had to draw it
gws! since you said you werent feeling great and all
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005 YOU CANNOT JUST CASUALLY DROP THESE MASTERPIECES IN NY INBOX WITH NO WARNING(thank you) BECAUSE OH MY GODDDDDDDDD!!!!!!! YOU'RE GOING TO KILL ME!!!!!!!!!!!!
You should really post it if you feel comfortable 🥺🥺🥺 so I can write like 30 tags 🥺🥺🥺 and show him off to everyone like a proud mother 🥺🥺🥺
THE ARMOR!!!!!!! IM SO OBSESSED WITH HOW YOU DREW THE ARMOR!!!!!!! Mercel just sent me some armor pics and I'm like please, god, learning how to draw this will kill me....AND THEN I RECEIVE THIS!!!!!!!!! Immaculate beautiful perfect boy king 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 The armor is so beautifully drawn!!! His sword!!!!!! His cape!!!!!!!! The way you drew his hair!!!!!!!(I'm still so glad the little heart ahoge has not gone unseen 🤭🤭) also this really reminds me of this one painting of young Charles VI so I'm like AH OMG!!!!!!! EVEN MORE SUPER HISTORICALLY ACCURATE BOY KING SEB!!!!!!!!
This art has me feeling like this:
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Framing him and putting him on my wall 🤭🤭🤭
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sunshinebingo · 1 year
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@gwynrielweeksofficial Day 9 - Tropes
The Princess and the Knight
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A/N: I dropped some classic tropes, Azriel and Gwyn in a bag. Shook it a few times, and this came out.
Tropes included: Damsel in distress, Love at first sight, Mutual pining/Idiots in love
Synopsis: Azriel rescues Gwyn from an evil sorcerer.
Word Count: 1.6k
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Deep in Oorid Forest, the Knight who had been riding for hours finally slowed to a stop near the sorcerer’s tower. Sir Azriel had made a vow; to protect the Princess. He would bring her back to the castle of Sangravah. When the evil Hybern had dared steal the Princess away from her home, Azriel had felt guilty for not being there to protect her. Then he had been filled with so much rage that he had not even listened to his Queen’s response before he was atop his white mare and riding straight into the forest to find the sorcerer’s tower.
After Azriel dismounted from the mare, he drew out his sword and smashed down the door with all his force. The scream of the Princess from the top of the tower turned his blood cold. He tightened his grip on his sword and ran up the winding staircase as fast as his feet could carry him. At the top of the tower, Princess Gwyneth thrashed as Hybern tried to place a gag in her mouth.
‘’Let me go,’’ the Princess screamed. The sorcerer had bound her hands and feet after Gwyn has kicked him so hard in the nose that blood was still running down his face and soaking his black robe. Using his magic, Hybern had managed to infiltrate her private quarters and transported them both to his dusty tower. But Gwyn was no fragile princess who would give up without a fight. Her mother would be proud of her. The Queen must have had already sent an army to her rescue. She just had to ensure that Hybern did not get a single drop of blood out of her. If he did, the sorcerer would be able to bind her life to his and make her his bride. The old man was even madder than she thought if he believed that Gwyn would let that happen.
‘’Be quiet Your Highness or -,’’ Hybern was tackled to the ground before he could complete his threat. Gwyn let out a sigh of relief at the realisation that this would all be over soon. She noticed that instead of an army, only one man had come to find her. Even with his big, heavy armour, Gwyn would recognise this man anywhere. She knew that this Knight was worth at least 10 others. She watched as the Knight raised his mighty sword and brought it down on Hybern, severing the old sorcerer’s head in one swipe.
‘’Are you alright Your Highness,’’ Azriel asked the Princess after he cut off the binds on her hands and feet. She nodded. Azriel felt grateful for the helmet covering his face. He did not want her to know how afraid he was. He was not afraid of the sorcerer but of the idea of something happening to the Princess. He would never forgive himself if harm has come to her. Not only would his reputation and pride as one of the strongest Knight of the Kingdom be wounded, but losing her would create a void in his heart that he was certain nothing and no one would be able to fill.
‘’Let me see your face, Knight,’’ Gwyn told him, voice slightly hoarse from screaming for so long. She wanted to look in the eyes of the one she has cherished in secret for years now. Azriel removed his helmet and bowed his head. Gwyn lifted a hand to his face. ‘’Thank you for coming to my rescue, Sir Azriel.’’
The Knight gulped. When he looked at the Princess, it reminded him of the first time those beautiful bright teal eyes has met his. She was sitting on her throne next to her mother, Queen Orla, wearing a white and gold dress. Her silver crown adorned with diamonds and blue sapphires was shining atop her bright copper hair. When he had knelt to pledge his life to them, Azriel had also unknowingly pledged his heart to the Princess. He imagined then that, as a Princess, Gwyneth would never see him as more than a servant of the crown. But when he had risen as Knight of Sangravah and looked into her eyes again, Azriel knew that he would love none but his Princess.
Azriel rised to his feet first. When Gwyn stood up, her feet felt slightly wobbly from being tied for so long. She placed her hands on Azriel’s chest to steady herself and blushed furiously when he reached out to support her by the waist.
‘’May I, Your Highness?’’ his deep, unsure voice made her cheeks heat even more. She did not even know what she was agreeing to but, not willing to put any distance between them, she nodded,. Azriel placed his broad hands behind her back and knees. He lifted Gwyn up in his arms and carried her out of the room, down the long staircase of the tower. She closed her eyes and imagined that, beneath his armour, his heart was beating as fast as hers was.
For a moment, she allowed herself to be foolish enough to think that he was also a little affected by her. After all, why would a Knight who was as strong and handsome as a God be interested in her. She might be a Princess, but she knows that, for a man like Azriel, there must have been an endless amount of attractive and outgoing women waiting in line for him.
Azriel whistled when they exited the tower. A smile broke on Gwyn’s face when Isis came of out at the line of trees and ran to them. She had often daydreamed about going horse-riding with Azriel; her riding Shadow, her horse who was as black as night, and him riding Isis, Shadow’s complete opposite.
There was an odd contrast between Azriel and Isis that has always fascinated her. Whenever Gwyn has caught glimpses of Azriel riding towards danger, she could not help but see him as a dark warrior crafted from death and darkness on top of the white mare that emanated a sense of light and life. As if life and death could not exist without the other. She sometimes dreamed that she was also a source of light in his life.
Azriel placed Gwyneth on the mare, making sure she was comfortable before he mounted to sit behind her. When he placed his hands on her sides to grab the bridle, she sighed and leaned her head back on his chest. Azriel’s heart fluttered in response and he bit his lip to stop the smile that threatened to give him hope that she was doing it on purpose.
They rode in a comfortable silence, alternating their pace along the way and stopping occasionally for a few minutes. The ride took longer now than when he rode at full speed without rest to get to her. But he would not mind spending months like this with Gwyneth. This might be the closest that he would ever get to the Princess. Azriel would do everything in his power to prevent her from being taken again, even if it meant going back to loving her from afar.
Gwyn tried to start a conversation on several occasions but gave up because she felt too nervous to come up with anything she thought was interesting enough to tell him. After about halfway to the castle, Gwyn fell asleep with Azriel’s arm wrapped safely around her to keep her from falling off. She smiled when she woke up with the feeling of his head resting on top of hers. Her smile faded away at the sight of the castle. She was glad to be home safely and not married to an old fool. But she also wished that the journey back was much longer.
Azriel helped her down when they stopped in front of the stairs leading to the castle. He looked at her and tried to remember the feeling of his hands around her waist, of her own hands gripping his arms.
They kept staring at each other until Gwyneth rose on her toes. ‘’Thank you Azriel,’’ she whispered in his ear before she kissed him on the cheek. She had already thank him before, but this time, with all titles removed, it felt more intimate. The sound of his name coming from her lips instantly made him fall harder for her. When she pulled back, Azriel noticed the deep blush that was spreading on her face. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the voice of Queen Orla calling her daughter. Gwyn let go of Azriel’s arms and ran to her mother.
The Queen cried as she held her precious daughter in a tight hug. ‘’I am so sorry for what happened to you my jewel,’’ she told Gwyn. ‘’I was so worried about you.’’
‘’It’s alright mother. I am fine,’’ Gwyn smiled at the Queen to reassure her. ‘’Plus you sent your best Knight to get me.’’
‘’Gwyn I think this man is as besotted with you as you are with him.’’ Gwyn’s face paled and her eyes widened at her mother’s statement. Orla smiled at her daughter’s shocked expression and cupped Gwyn’s face between her palms. ‘’Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? I am your mother my dear.’’
Gwyn looked down and did not even try to deny her attraction for the Knight. Most of all, she did not dare let her mother know that it was much more than just a simple attraction. ‘’He is not besotted with me mother,’’ she mumbled.
The Queen tilted Gwyn’s head upwards to make her look at her again. ‘’I did not send Sir Azriel my dearest. He went to you on his own before I could even ask.’’ Gwyn was hit with another wave of shock. Her eyes immediately searched the yard of the castle to find her Knight, but he was already gone.
Thanks for reading! ♥️
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teejaystumbles · 1 year
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@tryan-a-bex asked "your top five pieces of your own art or if you don’t like that one, your top five sandman fanfics that you like to read." with a reblog which is a bit impractical, dear, so I'm making a new post and'll share my own top five pieces of art because I have read too many fanfictions and struggle to keep my favorites straight
my Dream King, the first proper one I drew, is still my personal favorite <3
2. This is actually such a precious picture for me, still love that color so much!
3. followed closely by Hob swearing fealty <3
4. Two men in love - still proud of that one!!
5. the Hellknight has a special place in my heart even if it is decidedly more spicy than the most things I draw (it's the fetish clothes, makes me more uncomfortable than nakedness) but I love how it turned out, especially with inky nightmarish Dream hovering <3
I would add a lot more and would not be able to give them a number, I'm mostly proud of my art or I wouldn't show it off :) I'd be more interested in what YOU consider my best pieces!
Thanks for asking!
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kimageddon · 1 year
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Casual Mando - Adaji Treshan
I wanted to draw ol' mate and give him *checks notes* "daddy arms" because quite frankly it amuses me to do so.
It's rare to see him in casual gear, but he can't always wear the armour. I did keep with his orange theme though. I'm also quite proud of his hair. ^^
It's been a while since I drew him and I think my skills have improved. I am still figuring out how to draw in a stylised sense so perhaps that's the next thing I have to work on.
What do y'all think?
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omaano · 2 years
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2,11,20 ❤️
Thank you, dear! ❤️
2. 5 favourites of your own work?
Oh this is difficult, and gonna be recent-creation focused, I believe.
So here is this one, which speaks for itself, I believe because I put a TON of work and detail into it and challenged myself to the maximum of my artistic abilities coming off of a pretty rough patch:
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Then there is this one, my most recent pride and joy, where I most definitely outdid myself with painting and colour, and I still wonder if I really was the one who did it:
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And I'm very proud of what I achieved with this Ciri (and 2/3 of my Ciri pose studies, really, I feel like I got that girl right in those witcher armour sets)
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Also this was meant to be as a little something while I was waiting for a reply from one of my commissioners, but in the end I fell very much in love with the mood I managed to capture between these chracaters (and the angle of Din's helmet is a mystery to me, but I feel like I did get it right in the end!)
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And the one I haven't posted because I'm too self conscious about it (mostly when I remember how silly and happy I felt when I finally gave in a drew it, int he hopes of getting this new obsession with The Mandalorian out of my system ^^; I wasn't very successful, obviously lol) It's from March, but I love it SOOO much. Also I stared at helmet details way too much for my own good, and still failed to work out certain little things X"D
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11. Favorite comment you’ve ever recieved on your work?
The one I currently cherish the most is that someone's left an "it looks like concept art" (or the equivalent of this feeling) in a tag under that black and grey DinCobb work of mine - and that singlehandedly validated all my previous struggles and dreams I've never even dared to voice before. It was a really nice feeling, okay?
But getting HE!!! as a tag is also incredibly rewarding :D I love that :D
20. What works have you drawn fanart of?
I feel like this is a trick question, and I'm doomed to get the answer wrong ^^; Are we talking fics I've drawn fanart of? Because that's quite a list in itself (since they are my major source of inspiration), or are we talking shows and movies and books? Or paintings?
There is the above showcased one for Lessons in Idle Ecstasies with Cobb and his red scarf (space cowboys in an actual Western setting, heck yeah! I did not expect I'd get so into it, but here we are)
This one with Eskel and Geralt for Ubi Vedymin Ibi Domus I swear I'm going to finish one of these day!
And this vampire-witcher sandwich for Fact and Fantasy I love dearly still - and with this I think I've covered all my recent interests, unfairly not mentioning any of the drawings I did for @traumschwinge (<3) or various big bangs, or that one pre-wedding emralt sketch I did for you ^^;
Artist Asks - ask away ^^
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sir-stitchess · 2 years
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SANDERS SIDES SKYRIM AU
Redo kinda. I’ve done this before but I don’t think I posted it here.
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Patton Daneia. Imperial 1/8 Khajiit. He goes full catboy later on.
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Logan Sinrose. 1/2 Altmer, 1/4 Imperial, 1/4 Redguard. He has a scar on his left cheek that I always forget to draw.
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Roman Saphiia. 1/2 Nord, 1/2 Orsimer.
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Virgil. 1/2 Dunmer, 1/2 Redguard. He has a burn scar that I hadn’t thought to picture yet when I drew this.
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Janus. Altmer, 1/16th Argonian. Don’t question it. He gets horns later.
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Remus. 1/2 Nord, 1/2 Orsimer. He looks nothing like Roman, I know. LET ME HAVE MY NORD TWINK AND MY BIG TIDDY ORC.
They also have more casual looks. Basically armour off, hair down.
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Cat ears :o
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Forgot the scar again I am going to lose it
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Ion like this one that much
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I am so proud of this body and I hate that I had to cover it up.
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HORNS
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TITS
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mangaka-neko-chan · 4 months
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Tell us about it
Aw Anon (or Anons? since you said "us"), I'm happy you are so curious~
I drew the whole piece to express the story behind it rather than directly telling the story behind it. Occasionally I like to attempt subtle storytelling in art, wondering if someone will figure it out. This is the first time someone asked me about one of these pieces so I guess I'm making progress? But I may be still too vague tho ahaha, shows that I still have much to learn about balancing the vague with the obvious. So actually telling the story behind it would take away from this piece.
I reblogged it today cause I remembered this art and am very proud of it, the flowers were fun to draw~
Also bear in mind, Neh'edi's story isn't finished yet nor fully fleshed out. I'm still in the midst of changing things all the time. Heck, I am currently reworking her armour lmao. So maybe I'll tell you about the story behind it one day, maybe not. That entirely depends on it's development.
0 notes
elanorrandom · 1 year
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Evaluation
In the last 6 weeks I’ve made sketches, and digital pieces, all relating to medieval fantasy, taking inspiration from big games in the industry which also follow the theme, such as World of warcraft, league of legends and dungeons and dragons.
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The first hurdle of this project was trying to find a way to bring the element of randomisation into artwork, and it’s something I struggled with for the first week or two, instead just opting to do some initial sketches to try and draw some inspiration.
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This was the first sketch of the project, a seated orc over a rock. I lost valuable time to trying to bring in randomisation, and by the time I came up with the idea  of a DnD character generator, it was too ambitious for the time I had left. 
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   In the next project I need to be more aware of my skillset and not be too ambitious, I spent more time then I expected on my first piece of this project, and it’s essentially become the whole project, I’m still proud of it, but by no means was it what I’d set out to achieve. As mentioned, my original plan was to create a random character generator, meaning a randomisation of combinations to make up one character.
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To do this, I made a skeleton, which I built a body off off.
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Then I made a body, for which to base the armour around, so it was fitting proportions.
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And then on a different layer, I was building an armour set, and the idea was I’d build multiple armour sets off of this body, in this same form. But I ran into the issue of not really knowing how to integrate this into unreal, to create this png generator. I started a new photoshop, wanting to create a more dynamic piece, and felt inspired. 
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This was the inital sketch, colour coded to help guide me, red being the cape, harness, bandages, blue being the body and legs, yellow being the axe, all of it to give me perspective on all of the elements before the overlapped in lineart. This process took longer than expected, but I’m expecting it to go quicker for the next project.
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The lineart that followed, a few changes from the sketch, such as the hair blowing with the cape instead of the opposite way, I made this following the sketch closely, having things overlapping helps to give me an idea of where everything actually is, and helps me when drawing perspectives where things are hidden from view. (for example, I drew where the other end of the axe would be despite it being behind the cape in the lineart.
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I used the lasso tool to do the flats, to make it follow the lineart closely, but I also made different layers to make it possible to change elements to different colours, such as the armour, the trousers and leather, the cape, the skin, all of this was made flexible by using seperate layers to colour in this character. In the next project i’ll be sure to experiment more with alternatives.
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Next, I got started with the background, originally starting with a navy blue background, the slanted white triangle in the bottom intended to be snow, but I late scrapped the idea of showing the ground, instead focusing on the cold night sky. I’m not comfortable with backgrounds, but I think this one took a lot quicker than it did in the last project, and I’m hoping to see improvements in the next one.
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I adjusted the character’s head, raising the hairline to give him more of a forehead, starting to add glowy effects, and as you can see I’d since scrapped the snow. I think I did a good job with the lighting here, but it’s only highlights, I ran out of time to do lowlights.
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Realizing I was running out of time, I finished the piece with a few dots of snow and while this piece was an improvement, it proved to me that my original goals for this project were far too ambitious for my current skillset, and I’ll be sure to bare that in mind for my next project.
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In conclusion. This project was very productive, and a good return back to the course, showcasing my improvement from past projects, but there is still improvement needed concerning timing and planning.
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(old project for comparison) For the new project, I’ll be on Holiday, so it’s important I manage my time for it better than I have with this one. I also need to work  on how I do initial research, as I tend to not document enough.
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frecklelemonade · 3 years
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Fives: Felt cute, might do some crimes with my bros later! ✌️😋
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goddess-pan · 3 years
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c!Technoblade having a crush on a strong!Reader
Dsmp x reader prompt; c!Technoblade having a crush on a strong!Reader. Credit would be appreciated so more people can find this and make their own things based on it.
Requested from my idea list by @vanhakirja and @universal-vibe , if you would like to request something, you are still able to.
Mostly fluff and crack type prompt, romantic-coded
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Techno being very shy around the reader, but at the same time trying to show off. He'd get super flustered whenever the reader showcased their strength no matter if it was intentional or not. Even just the thought of a strong partner/lover makes his brain go brrrrr.
He finds strength really attractive and it would relieve his concerns in someone hurting them solely for the reason that it was him that was interested in them, because they would be able to defend themselves. While that is the first reason he would be attracted to them, he soon finds more by spending time with them. When they end up hanging out together they tend to gravitate towards things that interests them both, but occasionally they do something only one of them really has an interest in.
Even though the reader can defend themself, and Techno knows that, but he still has an urge to protect them. But due to not wanting to seem like he thinks less of them or that he's babying them, he tries to push it down and indulges himself only rarely in not demeaning ways like gifting them better armour and weapons. Though sometimes when his instincts get better of him he might ask to walk them home to make sure nothing happens to them or secure the perimeter around their house. One time he ended up fixing the stairs to the reader's house to make sure they didn't trip and hurt themself. While he might be able to find something to distract him from the thoughts of protecting the reader, because of the voices starting to immediately talk about it he isn't going to be able to shake the thought.
The voices might like the reader a lot too, but he is much more interested in the reader than they are. In fact he’s the one ranting and fawning over them constantly to the voices. And if Techno coached his voices on how to spot the reader in the wild in case he somehow missed them just so he could get a glimpse of them before they were out of his sight, that’s his business and his business alone. 
Techno would consider telling Phil about his crush just so he could have a another person to rant to about them. He’s kind of on the fence about it because there was this one time where the reader was helping him and Philza chop wood for the fires keeping their homes warm and he ended up not being able to keep his eyes of them and blushing every time they hauled wood back to the stockpile. Phil noticed it, because of course he did, and then began the light teasing of him over his interest in the reader and his blushing. Is Philza teasing him every waking second of his life worth talking about the reader to an actual person instead of just the voices in his head, not to mention a person he could get advice from regarding his crush? Techno sure as hell doesn’t know.
Should the reader at any point flirt with him or show interest in him in a romantic way, he would just be a flustered mess. When giving compliments to Techno he responds the best to compliments about his skills and talents since he can recognize that he’s good at those, usually it ends up with his tail wagging and ears flapping with blush spread across his cheeks while he makes tiny proud snorts unconsciously. If they called him pretty, beautiful or handsome (etc.) his brain would just shut down while he heavily blushed, averting his gaze and being unable to speak. If they compliment his voice he goes on a small tangent on how he polarizing his voice is and how some people like it, but other’s think he sounds like he’s smoked a pack for like a decade despite that not being the case, and with his tangent he forgets that the reader complimented him in the first place. He is also easily flustered by physical contact, though with hugging him they would have to keep an eye on not hugging him for too long since he can get super antsy due to being restricted and not being able to do anything if his mind doesn’t turn off. Though he would get the most flustered if the reader lifted him or picked him up. Please reader, pick this boy up and carry him, he will swoon hard.
While the reader is a strong person if their fighting techniques aren’t that great, Techno would gladly teach them what he knows and he knows a lot. Probably starting with the basics and then onto more advanced techniques plus any kind of life saving tricks he thinks they might need to know just in case. When the reader has gotten most of it down he would happily spar with them to help them practice that way as well, but he wouldn’t exactly feel comfortable fighting them if they didn’t know what they were doing despite their strength. And when the lessons are over and done with he wouldn’t be opposed to sparring with them in the future to hone both of their skills, but also to spend time with each other and have fun.
A funny thing that has happened to him was when he was just hanging out with the reader at his base feeding the hounds. While he was congratulating himself in his head for keeping his cool and appearing somewhat normal today, the reader stared at Ranboo’s house for second and then at Philza’s with a puzzled expression before snickering to themself. This drew Techno’s attention to them and they remarked
“You know both your neighbours are married...” He just grunted in affirmation, so they continued
“With your guys’ similarities, when is your wedding coming up big guy? Got someone special in mind already?” His mind immediately went to ‘Marry me’ as he locked eyes with them. Feeling way too self-conscious about his thoughts and feelings, he averted his eyes quickly and coughed clearing his throat. “Sounds nice, but probably not” he said.
“Why’s that?” They continued to question. He looked at them again, his face blank as he gestured himself. They just raised an eyebrow and stared at him in silence for a second. “If you so much as are even referring to yourself as being unlovable I will hug you until you stop talking nonsense.” 
“First of all, I didn’t even say anything an-”
“Now listen up here mister wise gu-”
“AND second of all is that supposed to be a threat?”
“It is, you handsome bastard, so unless you want to be unable to move for the next 10 minutes you better start watching yourself.” That caused his face to flush harshly while he quickly turned away going back to feeding the dogs and mumbled out a “Shut it.” Which got him a giggle in return and thankfully they didn’t deliver on their threat this time. While they changed the topic to something else, his mind was still running away with the thought of what their wedding would look like and the fact that he was called handsome.
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staranon95 · 3 years
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DinCobb Week Day 5: Sharing Cultures (SFW)
for @dincobbweek​ with a wedding!!
@astrangebird​ drew some fantastic art and i decided to write a piece about it. that’s that. that’s all of it.
AO3 Link
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Wait For Me Here
“We should get married,” Din idly said one day when they were in bed, side by side to wait out the worst of the day’s heat.”
“Oh yeah?” Cobb asks. He’s on his stomach, pillowed on his arms. Din knows this without even having to look because he knows Cobb likes sleeping on his front, usually one leg tucked up a bit, sometimes one arm stretched out for Din as if he’s reaching for him in sleep.
“Think about it. We live together.”
“Mm.”
“We cook together.”
“Mmhm.”
“We fight together.”
“Mm.”
“And we have a child together.”
Cobb snorts. “Sharing custody of your child with a Jedi might be putting it a bit generous.”
“There are also the school kids.”
“’cause half the time I have to tell them not to get into shit they shouldn’t.”
“Still.”
“Still,” Cobb says and breathes in. Then he opens his eyes and Din turns on his side to face him. “Marriage, huh?”
“Mmhm. Unless if . . .”
“Unless?”
“I don’t know what marriage customs are like on Tatooine, and the ones I’ve been invited to were Tusken in nature.”
“Well, shoot, partner, I reckon we go just as hard with our wedding flair as them Tuskens do.”
“Is that so?”
Cobb nods tiredly against his arms and closes his eyes. “Two-day affair most of the time. Eat and drink late into the night, sleep a few hours, and then get up in the morning for the breakfast feast. Everyone comes out with everything. Real big community thing as well.”
“I, I might like to see that.”
“What about you Mandalorians though?” Cobb then shifts suddenly, rising up long enough to lie himself across Din’s chest and hold him close with a leg in between Din’s. “I know you’ve . . . I know it’s not easy for you.”
Din sighs. The fallout from the survivors of his clan is still fresh. At least they didn’t strip him of his armour, but he doesn’t think they see him as Mandalorian anymore. He saw to their relocation on Tatooine with Boba Fett’s help, and finally they can live without the fear of being seen or being caught. But they will not accept Din as one of their own, not anymore, not after he gave up the Darksaber, allowed his face to be seen, and nearly broke every Creed he had taken on as a young adult.
“Well, the weddings were mostly, they were short,” Din admits. “Usually it requires an exchange, especially if one member were coming from a different clan.”
“An exchange of what?”
“Equipment. Weapons or armour. I once saw someone approach the Armourer to ask her how to show them to make a knife for their betrothed. It’s meant to be personal to a degree. Either you got this weapon in battle or you’re offering up a piece of yourself, your beskar’gam.”
Cobb hums. “Sounds very official.”
“Marriage is a pact. You raise warriors. You grow the clan. You protect the clan.”
“Mm. I can work with that.”
Din smiles. “You’re a very agreeable partner.”
“I try.”
What starts out as a simple comment quickly turns into nearly a town wide event. Neither Din nor Cobb know how the secret got out. They were thinking, originally, a small affair with their closest associates. Boba is even willing to host at his palace, and Din is fine with that. But then word gets out, as it always does, that the Marshal and the Mandalorian are planning to get married, and now here they are, eating breakfast at Werlo’s cantina, getting approached by one of the mothers in town who’s there after dropping her kids off at the school, no doubt, casually talking like Din and Cobb know what’s going on.
“Marshal! Have you decided on a date yet?”
Cobb blinks and looks to Din before looking at the woman. “Excuse me?”
“For the wedding! Gaia said you and the Mandalorian were planning to marry.”
Din chokes on his caf.
“Um, well.” Cobb reaches out to pat Din’s hand. “We were planning a small ceremony.”
“Nonsense! I know you’re both busy men. We can handle all the logistics for you. All you and your fiancé need to do is show up to the day!”
“Well, Lee, thank you for the offer,” Cobb says, and Din can see he’s trying to be polite about it, but Din knows Cobb has a hard time turning down any of the favours the townspeople show him.
“It’s my pleasure, Marshal. It’s been some time since we’ve had cause to celebrate! We’ll be in touch!”
“Yeah, Lee. See you.”
Once she’s gone, Cobb looks to Din, and Din tries to smother his smile behind his hand.
“Hey, this is your town too,” Cobb says.
“I know. I guess a small ceremony is no longer in the works.”
“They were going to find out one way or another.”
From how Cobb explained it, Din thought he had a good idea of what entailed a Tatooine wedding from the settler-slave population. Good food, good drinks, good company.
“Have you thought about a house yet?”
Din looks to Jo as he’s elbow deep in a speeder. “What?”
“You know,” she says like Din should know. “A house.”
“Why would I—”
“Oh. You don’t know. Right.” She pops her lips. “It’s a Tatooine thing. ‘specially for freed slaves and poor settlers. It’s a thing of pride to be able to provide a place like a home. I know my dad worked hard to get an apartment for me and my ma while he also worked to get our manumission. Tiny one bedroom place ‘til I moved out here. But he was very proud of that place when he had it. Point is—what are you bringing to the table, Din?”
Din blinks and reaches for a towel to wipe sweat from his brow. “I hadn’t thought of anything.”
“Let me give you the one up ‘cause I know the Marshal won’t be asking’ for it himself.” She slides down from her perch on a workbench to lean over the speeder. “Man needs himself a proper house. And I’m talking a proper house. Most of the buildings here are temporary. They’re not built for long term which is why they require so much maintenance. Houses underground are the way to be. They take a while, sure, but when you’ve got a village.”
He frowns. “I thought that was for raising children.”
“Villages are for everything here, Din. If you want to give him something good, really show you love him, come find me when you’ve got free time. I’m pretty sure I can help you out with that issue.”
She then leaves and Din tries to return to his work at hand, but he’s stuck on the thought of a house. Of building a house for him and Cobb and for Grogu when he and his Jedi visit. Where they can host friends and not feel too crammed in Cobb’s home as it is. Where they can actually bring their lives and interests together in one shared space. A shared unit.
Cobb enters the garage looking like he’s dressed up to head into town, and Din stands to greet him. “Hey, darlin’!” He kisses Din on the cheek. Din wrinkles his nose.
“I’m dirty.”
“We’ve been worse to each other. Now. I’m headin’ into town for a bit. Told Jo to hold down the fort and you’re here for back up.”
Din nods. “You don’t want me coming with you?”
“Baby, I know you don’t like to travel to Mos Eisley. Take it easy. I’ll be back shortly after dinner.”
“Okay.”
He helps Cobb push out his speeder onto the main street of Mos Pelgo and kisses him once more before Cobb pulls his scarf up over his mouth and nose and pulls his goggles down over his eyes and offers Din a two fingered salute and then he’s off.
Din trudges down the street towards where Jo is leaning against the wall of the cantina. “So. A house.”
She nods. “Come on. Let’s talk logistics.”
In what they originally wanted to be a quick and short wedding turns into a several month-long affair as Mos Pelgo comes out in spades to support their Marshal and Mandalorian in tying the knot. They plan for food and for drinks. They send out invites to the local Tuskens, who also seem enthused that Din is getting married. They think it a good match, and well, at least Din has their approval.
The building of the Marshal’s new house is quietly under wraps. All Cobb knows is that a new house is being built, but he thinks it for one of the families in town, even comes by to watch Din at work in the staked-out pit, helping to dig down and remove sand until they come to the more compacted ground that they can put stabilizers against and hold in place before they’re pouring the plaster and concrete for the walls.
Whenever Din has a spare moment, he plans with Jo for the interior. A nice open kitchen. A large room for the both of them with an en-suite bathroom. There is not only one guest room but two. One that will largely be Grogu’s when he’s here to stay, and also one for the Jedi if he plans on staying the night. Sometimes he does.
Then there’s the living room, circular in design that could hold a dozen people comfortably, and knowing Cobb, he’ll like the opportunity to entertain more. Din thinks it’s perfect, and he finds as he puts the work into making a home, he realizes he’s looking forward to it not just for Cobb’s promised happiness, but also his own. He can’t remember the last time he’s actually had a proper home like this. Not since Aq Vetina anyway.
“You’re in a good mood,” Cobb says that night when they’re finishing the dishes after dinner.
Din shrugs. “Just happy I guess.”
“Good.” Cobb kisses him quickly on the cheek. “You deserve to be.”
One of the next steps for the wedding is the clothes themselves. For Cobb it means he’s getting a robe made for himself. White, flowing fabric with a fancy gold trim around the hems. It’s a standard piece of Tatooine marriages, and Din feels himself sort of bereft that he doesn’t have something similar.
So he plans a visit to Boba’s because they have a shared lineage, and Din can’t exactly walk up to where his old tribe is and ask, “Can any of you help me dress for my wedding? Even though you see me as dar’manda and probably wouldn’t accept my marriage to an outsider?”
Best not to think of it.
He rides with Cobb to the palace, but Cobb isn’t planning on staying.
“I got business in town,” he says. “Might be a while. You okay staying here tonight?”
“Of course.”
“’kay. Kiss.”
He tilts up for Din to lean down and kiss him before waving him off. Then Din heads towards the palace and is let in by the guards.
It’s one of Boba’s work days, meaning he’s not seeing court, which means he’s pouring drinks for him, Fennec, and Din to enjoy. He always serves the strong stuff, which makes Din’s throat burn, but he’s getting used to it.
“So how is it anyway?” Boba asks, reclined on one of the sofa’s where Fennec can press her feet against his thigh.
“Going well,” Din says, keeping his eyes on the dark liquor in his glass. “The house is coming along.”
“You still haven’t told him yet?” Fennec asks.
Din shakes his head. “I want to keep it a surprise for him.”
“Sounds like you got it bad.”
“And you don’t?”
Fennec chuckles and Boba smiles amusedly.
“Fennec’s not exactly my queen here,” Boba says.
“That’s right. I’m an empress.”
“Still. A house sounds like a good idea. Putting down roots. Settling in.”
“It’s about time,” Din says, taking a sip. He smacks his lips. “But it’s getting close to the day and . . . the seamstress offered to tailor me something, but I was hoping for something more—”
“Familiar?” Boba offers. Din nods.
“I think you can help with that,” Fennec says. “Despite what he might say, Boba’s become a real fashion snob.”
“It’s not fashion when you have to wear it to impress people who won’t take you seriously otherwise. The battle armour doesn’t always work.”
“Sure,” she says. “We’ll go with that.”
“I’ll see what I got.”
They eventually move to Boba and Fennec’s shared private quarters where Din can examine the clothing in front of a mirror.
“If you’re looking for something more Mandalorian,” Boba says from within his closet. “I’d suggest the lavalava. Especially if you’re aiming for tradition.”
“Bring out the blue one if you have it,” Fennec says.
Boba returns holding what Din first sees as a skirt, but recognizes the design of it when he was first living in the Fighting Corps’ barracks as a child. It’s meant to be a more formal piece of Mandalorian wear for more casual settings if one didn’t want to dress up in full battle armour. It’s meant to just sit on the hips.
Boba gets him to try it on right there. “You’d probably just wear a light pair of leggings underneath,” he says.
“Oh, and then,” Fennec says, rising to her feet and entering the closet. She returns with a lighter blue cloak and a red sash. “Tie it off with this sash here.” She wraps it around his waist. “And then the cloak like this.” She lets it sit on one shoulder and brings the two ends together to pin at his other shoulder. “You know, I might have a broach that could fit this. Din, hold this for me. I’ll be right back.”
He does as he’s told and looks at himself in the mirror.
“Not bad,” Boba says. “Colour suits you.”
Din turns a bit to admire himself in the mirror. He looks at Boba in the reflection and asks, with his stomach fluttering, “Have you spoken to the clan?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. Last week I think.”
Din hums.
“They’ve settled in just fine. Getting along with the Tuskens just fine, but seems like they got more in common than they do the settlers.”
Din nods. “I had a feeling they would.”
“Have you . . .”
“Not since they relocated.”
Boba hums.
“Here we go,” Fennec says, coming back into the room with a silver brooch—in the shape of a Mythosaur skull.
“I didn’t know you had that, cyar,” Boba says.
“It was a gift from a long time ago. Guy who gave it to me certainly wasn’t Mandalorian, but I think it’s best to return it to someone it should actually belong to.” She fixes the brooch to the cloak and then turns Din to face the mirror directly. “There. Now you look ready to get married.”
Din runs his fingers through his hair. He might want to get it cut before the wedding, but he knows Cobb likes it when it’s longer and it holds its waves more. He should at least shave. The uneven scruff on his jaw isn’t all that appealing to himself.
“Stars, it’s going to be a mad house on the day of,” Boba says. “Seems like we’ll have to bring the good stuff, Fennec.”
“You’re telling me.”
In the days leading up to the wedding, Din sees to the final touches of the house, ensuring the furniture is in place with room for more when they make the final move. He plans on surprising Cobb that day.
They have a good celebration the night before at the cantina, drinks on the house, and then, in Tatooine fashion, the couple are separated the night before. Din is headed off by Boba and Fennec to Din’s new house, and Cobb is dragged away by his deputy Jo to his house.
“Rest up, vod,” Boba says. “You got a long day ahead of you.”
The next morning, Fennec helps him get ready for the day, making sure his hair is just right, and the cloak is sitting on his shoulders just so. Boba is there in his armour, and Din feels a sour note in his stomach that he’s not wearing any of his. He wouldn’t feel right after his expulsion from the clan.
“You still want the Mandalorian vows?” Boba asks.
Din nods. “If you can.”
“I’d be honored, vod.”
And then he’s led out with his friends on either side of him down the main street with everyone and then some—Tuskens, out of town friends, some of Boba’s closer associates—have come out in full force down the street as it’s been fully decorated for the day.
The ceremony itself is held at one end of the town where an arch of bone from bantha horns has been carved as a gift from the Tuskens. And that’s when Din sees him—Cobb, dressed in white with gold trim and with the hood up over his head, a red sash at his waist as if to match Din’s without even knowing. His back remains turned as Din walks up the aisle towards the arch and then he’s standing next to Cobb, shoulder to shoulder, with Cobb’s lifelong friend and impromptu wedding officiator Issa-Or standing before them. Din keeps his eyes forward for now, waiting for the right moment to face his soon-to-be husband head on.
“Now, I know ya’ll have come out and taken time off of your busy schedules,” Issa-Or says. “And we don’t have much time to dilly-dally like they did in the nicer districts in Mos Eisley and the rest. Time wasn’t a luxury for people like us, so we had to make do. Which is why we’re here to see that Cobb Vanth, Marshal here in Mos Pelgo, spends the rest of his days married to none other than a Mandalorian! Someone he chose to let into his life, his home, and share the rest of his time in this mortal coil with.”
Din feels himself blushing, feels a smile breaking out over his face.
“Cobb?”
He sees Cobb lift his head.
“Why don’t you take a look at your man?”
He feels Cobb reach for his hand and Din gently turns with a little prodding. And as he turns, he sees Cobb pushing back his hood, and Din feels as if he could cry at the sight of him.
He sees Cobb’s lower lip tremble before he smiles, as bright as Tatooine’s suns themselves. “Din.” Cobb lifts Din’s hand and holds it between both of his own. Then Cobb laughs despite himself. “First time I’ve been without words in a while.”
There are a few laughs among the crowd.
“Darling, my love. First day I laid eyes on you, I knew I couldn’t let you go. And I am a richer man for having you. Even if I don’t got much but my name and my reputation and the good will of the people before us, I hope to give you everything you could ever need.” Then he raises Din’s hand and kisses the back of it tenderly.
“At this point, we’d say a done deal and have a feast,” Issa-Or says. “But as it is, Din is a Mandalorian, and we want to respect that part of him, so he comes with his own vows.”
She steps aside to let Boba come up.
“If you’ll both repeat after me,” he says. “We are one together.”
“Mhi solus tome,” Din says, quietly, only enough for Cobb and Boba to really hear.
He watches Cobb smiles, the pink curl of his tongue before he’s repeating in Basic. “We are one together.
“We are one when parted.”
“Mhi solus dhar’tome.”
“We are one when parted.”
“We share all.”
“Mhi me’dinui an.”
“We share all.”
“We shall raise warriors.”
“Mhi ba’juri verde.”
“We shall raise warriors.”
“Oya, vod,” Boba mutters.
And Din finds himself feeling bashful, and that’s when Cobb pulls him closer by his hands.
“Now I consider that we’re well and truly hitched now,” he says, and Din rushes in to cup his face and kiss his riduur in front of an adoring and loving crowd.
The rest of the day is pretty much a blur of being at Cobb’s side, being dragged away from Cobb, of Cobb being dragged away from him. Dance until his feet ache and he’s dizzy. More food than he’s used to. More drinks than he can tolerate, and falling asleep in a tent when he’s imbued too much with a pink cheeked Cobb next to him.
A few hours of sleep later and they’re back at it again for a more restful filled breakfast and relaxed conversation before finally, the festivities are over and people begin to head back to their business.
“Do you want to go home?” Din asks.
Cobb stretches and yawns, looking exhausted but content with his station in life. “You have read my mind.”
They walk down the street together, their clothes in a state of disarray before Din is leading him elsewhere.
“Babe, where . . .” Then it dawns on him and Din can’t help but smile. “No,” he says.
Din nods. “Come on. Let me show you to our home.”
Cobb is speechless when they enter the new partially buried house. He’s taken by how large it is, how high the ceilings are now, and how cool and inviting it is. Then he rushes forward to kiss Din and hold him close. “Oh, you are full of surprises.”
“Jo told me it’s a custom.”
“Well, not always a custom, but we pride ourselves on being able to provide.”
“Then let me provide for you.”
They kiss again, deeper this time until Cobb pulls back to rest their foreheads together. “Mm. As much as I’d like to christen this place, I’m bushwhacked.” Then he’s pulling Din into the bedroom where they collapse onto the bed as husbands, as riduurs.
“Hey, Din. You awake?”
Din stretches out on the bed and opens weary eyes to find Cobb kneeling on the ground next to the bed.
“What time’s it?” he asks.
“Afternoon-ish. Just went out to get some things from the old place, and, um, I guess now is as good a time as any to give this to you.” He sets a bundle of cloth knotted off with string on the bed before Din, and Din rises up on one elbow to look at it.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Din says, tugging at the strings.
“Yeah, well.” Cobb rubs the back of his neck, a nervous tic of his. “I felt like I had to for this one.”
In the cloth is an ornate dagger with its own leather sheath. When Din pulls the blade, he’s mesmerized with how the blade shimmers. A single piece that looks like it’s been carved from onyx.
“Cobb, I—” Then he sees the mark in the hilt of it.
The mark of his tribe. The Mythosaur skull. On the other side is the mark of the mudhorn.
He looks up to Cobb. “Where did you get this?”
“Well, I, I went to your clan.”
Din breathes out and sits up in full with the dagger in his lap. Cobb comes to sit on the edge of the bed.
“When you told me about your customs, and seeing your armour just sitting in our wardrobe for months, I wanted, I wanted to confront your clan. I know things are rocky between you and them, but I went in there to just speak with them at first. Then next thing I know, I’m sitting on the ground drinking tea with your matriarch.”
Din closes his eyes for a moment.
“And I don’t tell her everything, I don’t ream her out or nothing. I know you hold her in high regard. But I told her I was intending on marrying you and I wanted to do it right by you. No one else. So, she said she’d show me how to make something. And each time I visited, she’d ask about you and I’d tell her that, oh, you were a guest speaker in the school today, or you had fixed the power generators. And she’d tell me my smithy skills were shit and tell me to begin again.”
Din laughs. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”
“Then she asked me why I wanted to marry you. And I told her I wanted to spend the rest of my days making you happy, giving you everything you could ever need. And she said, he deserves it.”
He lifts his head to look at Cobb. “She said that?”
Cobb nods. “I think she misses you. She won’t say it, but she does. I think it’s just taking some time for her and some of the others to come around to this new world order of theirs. But next time I go, I want you to come with me.”
Din nods. “Yes. Yes, I’d love that. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He kisses Cobb several times and holds him close with the knife on the bed spread next to him.
They don’t plan the trip out to Din’s clan for some weeks yet. They have a house to settle into after all. But then one day, they’re setting out on Cobb’s speeder. This time Din is wearing his armour with the knife at his hip. And this time they are facing Din’s clan together as one.
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ginazmemeoir · 3 years
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for @gopikanyari - i couldn't draw them but i did write this fic.
tagging @taareginn @momo-all-the-way @dragonfairy1231 @aadyeah @weird-u @holding-infinity-and-a-book @aloomu @carmen-riddle @mango-pickle
Everything slows down. All I feel is my breath, the sweat trickling down my face, and the tension in my hand dissipating as I release the knife and let it fly. It strikes the dummy with a ‘thwack’, and I keep staring at it. Miss. Again.
My father didn’t consider educating his youngest child, a girl, in the art of warfare. So after getting married to five men, all brothers, in a strange twist of fate, having near death experiences in the forest and at my husbands’ home in Hastinapur, I decided to instruct myself. Swords made me feel confident, bows and arrows made me feel like a hero in an epic, but knives? They made me feel like a toddler playing pretend. And yet, Drona, my husbands’ mentor and father’s sworn enemy, insisted on teaching me in “the art of the blade”.
I lean against the wall, wiping the sweat off using a cloth, and head for a bath. As I exit, my maid Malti approaches me, her face writ with worry. “Um… uh… Your Majesty…” she stutters. I place my hand on her shoulder and calm her down, “What happened Malti? Something in your family?” I ask. Instead, Malti hands me a card. I take it from her, beaming at the seal – a dolphin encircled by a peacock feather – Krishna’s emblem. I greedily tear the elaborate wrapping, desperate for the kind of raucous and “unladylike” interaction that I only got with Krishna. My eyes skim over the letter’s contents, and my heart sinks. “Impossible,” I mutter, clutching the letter in my hand, “my husbands promised me complete fidelity. They cannot remarry again.” Malti, her voice trembling, then uttered the words which my feeble brain couldn’t read, “Your Highness, the invite was delivered by a member of the Dwaraka council. Prince Arjuna is getting married to Subhadra, Lord Govinda’s sister.”
The streets of Hastinapur are jubilant with celebrations, as their prince returns with his new bride. All over the city, repairs were done, and frivolous, expensive structures were erected, all in an effort to show the audacious wealth of the Kuru empire. The cheerful, flower and gold bedecked exterior hid the internal deformities. Suyodhana’s maternal uncle, Shakuni, or as everybody called him in the land – the snake – fumed at what had transpired (from what I gathered Suyodhana was to be wed to Subhadra, who had eloped with my husband); King Dhritarashtra boiled in silent anger, while Queen Gandhari taunted and cried out her distress every now and then.
Arjuna arrived on the gates of the palace, his new bride at his side, followed by my other husbands (his brothers) and Krishna. Both bride and groom were bedecked in the finest of clothes and jewels, looking like overstuffed dummies. Even from here in my balcony, I could clearly see the bride’s discomfort in wearing the heavy jewellery and silks preferred by the Hastinapur royalty even in the scorching summer. All the ceremonies and rituals were performed with due tradition, thus amounting to an hour or two, and then only did the entourage enter the palace. I hurry down to meet the party, when I see the newlyweds walking towards me. Anger floods every pore of my body. Had I had my way, I would have scorched the palace with the same fire from which I was born. What kind of man is this cruel, taking his second wife to meet his first? Disgusted I slam the door on their stricken faces, and bury myself in my misery. Was I never destined to be happy?
The years pass by, and an unlikely bond forms between Subhadra and I – the kind of bond shared by mothers. It took six pregnancies to break the barrier between us, and she had approached first. That would always be a guilt I would carry – that I hadn’t extended my hand earlier, blinded by pride and anger. Soon, awkwardness gives place to an unlikely friendship, with her teaching me the various wonders of the world she had seen on her various trips; Greece, China, the Golden Isand of Lanka, she had seen it all. Meanwhile I taught her how to wield a sword , and helped her navigate the tricky waters of politics and party throwing. It was a rare, pure friendship – one spent wearing a cotton sari under a scorching sun, eating mangoes with sticky hands and giggling, one I had never experienced before.
I walk towards my palace. Or, not my palace, since Duryodhana owns it now. Nothing is left, not even my pride and dignity. My dishevelled appearance, torn sari, entangled hair and bruises make for a frightening appearance apparently, stunning everybody into silence. I don’t feel human anymore, just a husk slowly inching its way before it collapses, for my soul was stripped along with my clothes in that den of gamblers and cowards. I seethe with a burning hatred against my husbands, pretentious motherfuckers cowering behind their false dharma and “code of chivalry”, which conveniently vanished when they took multiple wives and yet made me marry all five of them against my will. I want to rage and burn and destroy and drink the blood of Dushasana and use Duryodhana’s skull as the cup. I thought my city, this magnificent city of Indraprastha, loved me the same way I loved it. And yet, in my darkest hours, none came to stop what followed, except perhaps Vikarna, a brother of the man whom I didn’t consider human. Subhadra was in the guava orchards with Abhimanyu, when she saw me. She quickly put him down, and rushed towards me, trying to cover me with a scarf, as if I cared anymore. She took me inside, and drew a bath for me. That day, I scrubbed my skin raw till it turned red and almost tore my hair from my scalp, trying to rid myself of Dushasana’s filthy touch. She then gives me some khus, which I drink gingerly, my tears mixing with the sweet green concoction. At first, she looks stricken, unable to believe what had transpired. Disbelief gave way to pity, which gave way to anger. “It’s useless Subhadra. Nothing is left. And I will make sure, that nothing will be.” I console her. I see the fear in her eyes then. Good. People had forgotten who I was, but I’d make sure I’d remind them in the years to follow. They blamed me for what had happened right, that I was too weak or too proud? Well then I’d like to prove them right. I am Draupadi. Paanchali. Yajnaseni. Born from fire, born to wreak havoc, born to change the fate of this cursed land of Jambudweep, where the roll of a dice values more than a person.
The 13 years that follow are spent in agony. Twelve years of wandering in the forest, facing arrogant saints and malevolent creatures. I keep wondering of Subhadra and my kids. When she had heard the news, she had slapped an unsuspecting Arjuna, and taken Abhimanyu and my kids with her to Dwarka, safe and secure, forbidding him to show her his face until he proved himself worthy. Arjuna soon parted ways with us in the forest, going off on some adventure, finding new beauties to marry and accumulating more powers for the war to follow. I meet Hidimba in the forest as well, Bhima’s first wife. I envy her freedom and her life. And then comes the dreaded year of agyaatvasa – living in the shadows, for fear of recognition. Yudhishthira becomes advisor to King Virata of Matsya, Bhima a cook, Nakula the master of stables, Sahadev a shepherd and I, the mighty Draupadi? A hairdresser. How cruel life was, making the woman who kept her hair unkempt and open as a reminder of her revenge, a hairdresser to a queen. Arjuna also returned, but as the eunuch dancer Brihannala. Even here, peace eluded me as the queen’s brother Keechaka turned his perverted gaze towards me. But this time, I had enough. And so I invite him to a secluded spot and then have his skull crushed by Bhima.
It’s the time of war. Vultures and hyenas gather in the fields of Kurukshetra in anticipation of the feast to follow. I reside in the camp with the other ladies and children of the house. I am unable to recognize my own kids at first, how quickly they’ve grown and how much they have changed. They greet me with the same love and respect, but something has changed fundamentally in our relationship, a cherished bond that would never be the same. Subhadra is there by my side, making me live their childhood through their mischievous stories and their life at Dwarka, and yet my mind wanders to our six sons – wearing their armour and lifting their weapons, barely on the cusp of manhood and yet already thrust into a war that isn’t their own. I stopped believing in gods long since, and yet I pray to any that might exist with a shred of mercy in their heart towards me – let my children live.
Abhimanyu’s mutilated corpse greets us on the thirteenth day of war. His body looked so gruesome, even Yamraj would have shuddered. Subhadra’s wails pierce through the sky, reverberating more than the clang of metal and steel. She reaches for Abhimanyu’s body, hugging him close, with his head on her lap, embracing her son for a final time before the fires engulfed him. I am too shocked, and Subhadra too bereaved, to either comfort or be comforted. There is no sermon, no balm, no magic for this loss. His loss permeates into every single cell of our being, and stays there. Subhadra cries the entire night, her eyes red from crying, consuming neither food nor water. I stay by her side all along. The other ladies comfort his wife Uttara, in the final month of her pregnancy, devastated by the destruction of her own small world before it could begin. Finally, when dawn breaks, and her body is devoid of tears, does Subhadra arise, but she’s not the same. She goes with the Pandavas to cremate her only child, and returns back. She utters not a single word, conveys not a single emotion. She doesn’t rage like fire – she is instead like the oceans near her home. A turbulent storm rages within, which the calm face doesn’t give away.
I come back to my tent having exacted my revenge. The sound of Dushasana’s arms being ripped off, his skull cracking open echo in my ears. My hair drip with his blood, my face smeared with sweat. I thought I would feel victorious, at peace now that I had avenged myself, avenged Abhimanyu’s death. But then Subhadra gazes at me, and a single gaze is enough to communicate everything in my heart. Is this who I am now? What more atrocities would be committed in this war?
The war has come at an end, as Duryodhana lies dying in agony, his thighs shattered. I go with everybody to cremate the fallen and pay my respects to Grandsire Bhishma, as he too draws his last breath upon his bed of arrows and leaves this world. All the bodies are collected in a massive mountain of rotting half eaten flesh, and cremated. The fire blazes high, an inferno reaching for the skies, taking the souls of everybody within it towards Indra’s court, which receives anybody who dies fighting. The flame reminds me of my own birth, which seems like a lifetime away. I return back to camp, weary from all the death that surrounded me, and am instead greeted by a fresh nightmare. My brother Dhrishtadyumna’s head hangs at the gate, his decapitated body beneath him, hands closed around his sword even in death. I rush in to find everybody dead – physicians, maids, cooks, attendants, charioteers, guards, everybody. I enter my sons’ tent, fearing the worst and that is when I see their corpses. They were still in bed. Sleeping. They were supposed to ride out tomorrow to Indraprastha, their true home. They were supposed to grow up and live their life far away from court or war. They were planning to finally visit the fabled Palace of Illusions, swimming in the Mirror Lake, plucking fresh fruits from the orchards. Sutasoma intended to devour all the books he could lay his hands on. Prativindhya wanted to try wine. Srutakarma wanted to learn pottery and sculpting. Shatanika wanted to try make up, while Shrutasena wanted to learn music and painting. My children were robbed of their lives and their futures in their sleep. Now I truly knew the meaning of loss. I would rather die a thousand times over just so I could bring them back. I collapse, the last thing I hear is Subhadra shouting my name. I don’t feel the ground as I fall.
It is in this hell on earth does Subhadra’s daughter in law Uttara give birth. She screams in pain as she tries to push her child out of her womb, the last child of a massacred dynasty, when the room suddenly fills with a scorching white light. It disappears as suddenly as it arrived, and everybody immediately figures out what happened. The Brahmastra, the strongest weapon in the universe. Aimed directly at Uttara’s womb and her unborn child. It is an unspeakable crime. The death of his grandnephew makes Krishna goes insane, and for the first time in my life, I see him become the angel of death. He picks up the babe, and proclaims, “If I have been a truly righteous human, let this child come to life.” The child, a boy, gasps and cries, strong and powerful. I have stopped believing in miracles, but this is one I admit. Subhadra reached for her grandson, and cradles him in her arms. Her tears drop on his forehead, as she smiles at him. As she hands the baby to me, there’s an understanding in our eyes. An agreement. A promise. Never shall this child know suffering. Never shall this child know pain. He will have what we could not. He will have a childhood, a future, a life.
We make this oath to ourselves. Sisters, united by pain, suffering and hope.
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“Im asking you as your friend put a end to me” ☆ The art ☆ This a re-draw of my first kingdom hearts fan art i draw it back in April last year just before finishing bbs it was the first time id draw humans since October 2019 and yeah in the original it definitely shows with my re-draw i wanted to change the pose and expression kinda when a bit over board though i was listening to the drawfee video where they muck around in clip studio with the 3D models and i though “hey maybe i can look up clip studio 3d models and use that as a pose reference instead of the pose the original was trying to copy in the first place” so i did it’s definitely not perfect the clothes were a real struggle and i still dont think they look right but apart from the the back hand im so proud (pun intended) I completely changed the pose and i think it payed off and mine the gap as we jump ship drawing hands sucks i hate it but ven’s front hand for some incompetence able reason was my favourite part to draw ☆ changes ☆ -as established in the prior paragraph i changed the pose so ven is swinging his key blade right at you rather then hovering in mind air or whatever he’s doing -i also changed the odd bit of armour cuz as cool as the bbs trios armour is its such a pain to draw especially at weird ageless -speaking of pain to draw coloured lines in sketch book auto desk so those are gone to -i made the lighter line of the circle thicker -removed ventus’s name instead erasing a line around him -and colour picked from ven’s heart station vs his model or the old art and the second most notable change ☆ Why are ventus eyes green?” ☆ simple i saw a mode once where ventus had green eyes and i though it looked cool and that there are to many characters with blue eyes so from then on i decided to give ven green eyes (also just saying green and red are opposites on the colour weel) ☆ Time taken ☆ im not sure i drew this over the course of three days (probably could have gotten it done in two but i got side tracked playing ace attorney) -☆in conclusion☆- Ventus is best boi!Green eyes supremacy!! play bbs it amazing!!! Ven’s keyblade has a proper handle now  and it all began with brith by sleep (dramatic music) ☆ Links ☆ - pose sketch / clean up (sta.sh/270bi935aci?edit=1) - original (www.deviantart.com/redpandafir…) -comparison (sta.sh/021nqww0wuhj) - good ventus meme (www.reddit.com/r/KingdomHearts…) 
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not-all-dead · 3 years
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Could u do the #50!angst? Kya to Lin, please ❤
prompt #50 - “Nothing’s wrong with you.”
This one’s slightly fluffier than the others! Still some angsty Lin though
Everything was so cold. The air, her armour, the ground beneath her. And yet her face burned. It felt like it might melt off. It hurt.
She was also burning inside. With anger, hurt. Of course Su had to have been friends with criminals. Of course Su had to cut those damned cables and-
And of course she had to grab Su’s wrist with her cables in the first place. She’d acted so impulsively, so stupidly. She’d been trying to please her mother, but that clearly didn’t work. She’d been so foolish to think her mother would ever be proud of her. And now she had these two ugly scars painting her face forever.
She couldn’t help but beat herself up. She was so angry, but her mother had made it seem like she was in the wrong. Like Su was right. And mother knows best, right? Her anger had nowhere to go except for inside, at herself. Memories flooded her head, reminding her of every mistake she’d ever made. That only made matters worse.
She glared at her feet when someone knocked on the door.
“Who is it?” She barked, not wanting to deal with family or friends, but not really wanting to see another nurse.
“Lin, can I please come in?” Kya asked, peeking her head through the door.
Lin growled. She felt bad about it, but she was angry at Kya too. She’d left so many times, her being here now meant next to nothing. She’d leave again once Lin was better, and who knows when she’d come back next. It was always the same.
“That wasn’t a no,” Kya said, opening the door fully and walking in.
“At least close the door behind you,” Lin huffed in annoyance even though Kya did what she’d asked.
“Lin, talk to me,” Kya sat on the bed by Lin’s feet.
“You have every right to be angry right now, but you can’t keep it all inside. You’ll only hurt yourself doing that,” Kya rested her hand on Lin’s leg, but Lin pulled away.
“It’s all my fault,” Lin mumbled, looking down and hugging herself tightly.
“What? That’s not true, Su shouldn’t have- ”
“Not just that. Everything. I keep doing everything wrong. I couldn’t metalbend for the longest time, I’ve let too many people die while on duty, I’ve only ever been with Tenzin, my sister hates me, my mother hates me, I don’t even know who my father is, I wasn’t enough for you to stay either and I just- ” She drew a deep breath.
“There’s something wrong with me, Kya. And I can’t care anymore because if I do, I’ll just make everything worse.”
“Lin. Look at me,” Kya scooched up onto the bed fully, crossing her legs and facing Lin. she tried to get Lin to meet her eyes, but the earthbender refused.
“Nothing is wrong with you. Absolutely nothing. Metal bending is an incredible feat that few earthbenders achieve, and you’re a master at it now. You’ve given your life to your job already, even though you’re only twenty two, and did everything you could to save those people. Even when they don’t make it, there are countless others who do because of you. Only having been with Tenzin- ” Kya paused for a moment, a lump forming in her throat. She couldn’t tell Lin about her feelings for her, not now. She was dating her brother for spirits’ sake. She forced herself to continue, ignoring the urge to tell Lin.
“Plenty of people are only ever with one person, and plus, your dating life doesn’t define you. Another thing, Su and Toph don’t hate you, Lin. They’re your family, they could never hate you. Tenzin annoys the hell out of me but I don’t hate him, do I?” Lin chuckled at that, making Kya smile.
“And not knowing your father doesn’t make you any different than someone who does. It’s not your fault that you don’t, and if anything, I’d say you’re stronger because of it.” Kya said in a softer tone.
“Please look at me,” Kya begged before finishing her speech. Lin begrudgingly lifted her gaze to Kya’s, forest green meeting ocean blue.
“I didn’t leave because of you. I’d never leave because of you. You’re one of, no, you are the most incredible person I’ve ever met. You’re smart, talented, funny, kind, well, when you want to be,” Lin truly laughed at that and Kya felt her heart rate rise.
“And so much more, Lin. You truly are remarkable. There is nothing wrong with you, I promise. I ran away because I was scared, and honestly, I’ll probably run away again for the same reason. Never because of you. You are perfect, you hear me? Absolutely flawless. Say it,” Kya put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow at Lin.
Lin blushed furiously at Kya’s words, and somehow reddened further at her challenge.
“Oh come on, at least admit there’s nothing wrong with you,” Kya urged.
“Fine, alright. There’s nothing wrong with me,” Lin relented. “Happy now?”
“Very,” Kya grinned.
list of prompts
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HC personality true vs public image
DISCLAIMER: If you will send me an Anon, I will answer the same tone as your ask, opinion is written.
All information and statements made in this reading or any other post of mine are all alleged until proven to be fact and for entertainment purposes & usage only. All information stated is based on my intuition and my tarot cards. Opinion only. The readings have no intention to cause any harm to the individuals, people featured in it.
Him - King of Wands rx. This is the centre of the spread.
This king in reversed is hot-tempered, jealous, impulsive. Could be a bully or a tyrant. Proud, arrogant, dominating. Could be unreliable, have low self-esteem.
He is the Emperor who has no clothes on. ( remember that, it will be important later). He is the king who wants to make a good impression, but only on the important people. The upright king uses his energy, his temper to make peace, to be a leader. The rx king is destruction, making fights. He pretends to be a leader, but he is weak and likes to follow more than lead. This card represents someone who has magnetism, who is the ladies man but because it’s rx, he doesn’t use this affection honestly. This is the king who can lose support because of his behaviour. He let his ego and pride rule him. 
I drew an Oracle card from the Artur Rackham oracle ( btw this deck works like magic to me!) and I got the Quackery - Professional Incompetence card. I will link a detailed article about quackery, but this basically means someone is a fraud. Someone who doesn’t have the knowledge to sell something, or work in a certain field but he does, no matter what. This and the KofWrx together shows me is truly selling an image that is far from his true self. 
His mind
9 of Swords Rx vs Ace of Swords
He definitely has a tendency to see things darker or badly. Probably he already went true the worst phase but he is still in a bad place mentally. I don’t want to use overly dramatic words, but this card is not just the “ oh, I have a bad mood… I will eat a little chocolate” card. This is a deep, hard state. Could mean, sleeping problems, nightmares, a joyless state, deep unhappiness. He is overwhelmed mentally right now. This card means he probably has a cynical view of life and some past problems still haunting him. 
What he wants to show the public that he is full of new ideas. Like he is someone who is communicating clearly, he uses his head and his emotions don’t run over. This also means someone is very assertive, likes to write. He wants to be seen as someone who is honest and only focuses on the important things. Who has very developed verbal skills. 
His actions
The Hierophant rx vs The Knight of Swords. 
Here we have some interesting thing.
Hierophant rx is someone who is doing things differently than the so-called norm. Who is rebellious and do not like traditions. It also means he does things which are shakes up his life.
This card means someone doesn’t want to marry or don’t respect marriage as an institution. Someone who thinks this is social pressure on him. It means an unconventional, untraditional way of love or someone who doesn’t really want a serious relationship. More like a serial dater. It also could mean he is trying to force himself to fit better in society.
It also could mean he lacks spirituality or doesn’t follow traditional religions. It’s also someone, who wants to dominate your mind instead of teaching you (upright)
The KnofSw is your typical knight in shining armour. This is the knight who lives by the rules, the code of the knights. He is ready to protect. He wants to show he holds himself to a higher stander than the others, who is proud. Who has discipline and wants to live his life by it. He is someone who is not influenced by his past. He attacks in order to defend. I also think he is very much in a defensive mode to protect this image from his real actions. ( if you put the two cards side by side the knight is attacking the Hierophant). 
His feelings
Page of Wands vs The Emperor
A page is very young and because the wand is fire, he is very energetic. He is someone who is exhausting to deal with. He can be very passionate very quickly and be bored at the same speed. He is a little bit mischievous, a little trickster. He has this burning desire, a sexual one without deeper emotions. Because he is young he hasn’t learned yet that the fire is not a toy. So he will burn himself. This card and the Hierophant rx together shows someone who absolutely does not want to commit himself.  
On the other hand, he wants to shows himself as an emotionally mature person. The Emperor is a father figure, who provides, who protects. Very masculine, responsible. This is the man who works for his family and makes sure he build a proper foundation. He is practical and dominating.  He also seems a little bit cold, so I think he is very cautious not to show too much emotion. Do you remember what I said at the very beginning? That the KofWRx is a “ the emperor has no clothes on” card. This card, the Hierophant rx and the PofW together not the best look for someone who allegedly wants a family. There is no family card, there is no love card. Not even in the public image collum. I truly think he does not want a family or not yet. Or he truly feels it is pressure on him.
His resources
The Star rx vs The Sun
The Star rx it’s a lost faith. That you have something but you are denied to use it. The resource is not only money but time, talent, affection etc. I think he thinks he is not good enough, for example, has no talent for certain roles. It also could mean he is uninspired and doesn’t care. This on an emotional level can mean he thinks he will never meet his soulmate or the right person. It also means your ideas or self ( as a resource) falsely depends on status and money.  Also, this could mean he is literally unable to see himself as a true star. And I know it seems silly because he could be arrogant, he has low self-esteem too. Those basically in the KofWrx card. Too proud but has low self-esteem. 
Healthwise it means he is anxious and pessimistic because of his physical condition. 
The Sun however is the shiny, positive, yes card. It is the absolute positivity card. This is how he wants to projects his options to us. He wants us to believe he is full of roles and jobs, and overall has a very positive, healthy look at life. He doesn’t really touch seriously deep topics and even if he does...every time those have some glossy, positive (almost false) shine. It’s the “I know of the meaning of the life” attitude. (Tarot could have a very literal or not abstract meaning, so if you do a health reading and you got the Sun card it very much can mean you lack Vitamin D, that was just a little fun fact).
So he has this never fading, overly positive tone always because somehow failure is not part of his public image. And you can find this everywhere. Love, family, opportunities, health etc. It’s almost like he doesn’t want us to be worried or see him as a human with darker, not so healthy periods. 
I don’t think this reading revealed so my brand new information, but I think it was interesting and maybe for some people it was an affirmation, that you always saw him like this. 
EDIT:
The link, I forgot to post, but I talked about.
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