#DEATH UPON HOLDEN

[stinkrascal]

holden: appears

me:

this is me whenever holden appears

[labuenosairesfrancaise]

Nun Appleton House

Hi guys!!

I'm sharing Nun Appleton House. This is the 13th building for my English Collection.

I added aa garden, which is my own creation and not the original of the house.

History of the house: The hall itself is built of reddish-orange brick with ashlar dressings and a Welsh slate roof in three storeys to a rectangular floor plan. It is grade II listed and now stands in some 200 ha. of parkland.

The estate was acquired by The 1st Lord Fairfax of Cameron, a Yorkshireman with a Scottish peerage, following the Dissolution of the Monasteries, from whom it descended to The 3rd Lord Fairfax of Cameron, the well-known English Civil War commander, who built the present hall in the late 1600s.

In his time (1651) the estate was the inspiration for Andrew Marvell's Upon Appleton House, a significant country house poem. Marvell was tutor to Thomas Fairfax's daughter, Mary. After the death of Mary (who had married The 2nd Duke of Buckingham) in 1704 the estate was eventually sold in 1711 to Alderman William Milner of Leeds who carried out many alterations to the house.

His son William was created the 1st Milner Baronet, of Nun Appleton Hall in the County of York, in 1717 and was later Member of Parliament for York. The estate then descended in the Milner family until 1875, when the estate's owner, Sir William Mordaunt Milner, 6th Baronet, was more interested in gambling than looking after it.

By 1877 it had been leased to William Beckett-Denison, a wealthy Leeds banker. After the death of Sir William Milner in Cairo in 1881, his brother Frederick inherited the estate and in 1882 married Adeline, eldest daughter of William Beckett-Denison. After William Beckett's gruesome death in 1890, the Hall and estate were sold to Angus Holden, a sometime M.P. (later created Baron Holden), a woollen manufacturer from Bradford, whose ownership was somewhat brief as he died in 1912.

The hall was now empty and many of the tenanted farms were sold. The estate was put up for auction in 1914 and again in 1917 and eventually acquired by a private company which felled many of the trees but by 1919 had gone into liquidation. It was bought in 1920 by Sir Benjamin Dawson, 1st Baronet, another Bradford textile manufacturer, who was High Sheriff of Yorkshire for 1951–52. During the Second World War the hall was taken over by the London Maternity Hospital.

 When the stable block accidentally burnt down it was afterwards refurbished as a theatre and made available to the local community.

The property was bought from the last occupant, Sir Benjamin's daughter Joan Dawson, for £1.2 million in the 1980s by Humphrey Smith of the Samuel Smith brewing family. The house is now fenced off, empty, unused and deteriorating.

Video below check it out

For more info: https://www.facebook.com/story.php/?story_fbid=928431841986992&id=100044605540042&_rdr

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This house fits a 50x50 lot (I think if you lose the gaden and terrace it can fit a 50x40 too)

I furnished just the principal rooms, so you get an idea. The rest is unfurnished so you create the interiors to your taste!

Hope you like it.

You will need the usual CC I use:

all Felixandre cc

all The Jim,

SYB

Anachrosims

Regal Sims

King Falcon railing

The Golden Sanctuary

Cliffou

Dndr recolors

Harrie cc

Tuds

Lili's palace cc

Please enjoy, comment if you like it and share pictures with me if you use my creations!

Free to download blueprint: https://www.patreon.com/user?u=75230453

[caelusproject]

"Talk to me" (Chapter 1?)

Pairing: Royalkay

Rating: SFW (minor sexual talk/thoughts, death and injury mentioned, cursing)

Wordcount: 6385

This is a fanfiction based on another fanfiction! This story takes place mostly during chapter 4 of the Jalim fanfiction "Say Nothing" by @katzenprinz and @thunderwhenhepurrs ! It's the same story but from a different point of view with a different relationship focus! Please read Gabe and Holden's Jalim fanfiction, it's seriously so good and still being written!! Go show them some love!!

(Sorry for any inconsistencies or errors I made, I tried my hardest to do my research but I'm an overworked human so mistakes are a given oof)

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Nick patrolled through the camp, letting the slowly fading rays of sunlight elucidate his path across the sand in a deep orange. Although he kept his mind sharp enough to immediately recognize any strange sounds and movements, so much so that he pointed his gun at an innocent little shrew hiding in a bush earlier, ready to pull the trigger and feeling bad about it right away again, he noticed his mind running wild in his skull. He felt his jaw muscles tighten as he looked towards the earth underneath his boots. Those fucking monsters were probably waiting for them. Sure, this time they came in prepared and with a purpose, as much as said purpose made him want to scream into the sky in a blind rage until his vocal chords snapped. Of course they would send them back in. Of course these idiots would want to know more about these creatures out of greed and blind thirst for knowledge. Of course Eric would run his mouth during the interrogations and mention how intellectually advanced they were.

But no matter how much Nick wanted to find a scapegoat to unleash his frustration and anger upon, Eric wasn't the one. Even if he hadn't talked about the vampires the way he did, those hazmat-freaks would have still gotten curious about them. The colonel didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of Nicks rage. Or at least not to a certain degree, after all it was Caelus that led them all down there in the first place.

“Wasn't his intention, though,” Nick reminded himself quietly as he circled around the tend where the newbies bunked, checking for anything noticeably concerning but ultimately finding nothing unusual. So he decided to keep on walking around the campsite until his short lived patrol was over.

Nick had quite some time to reminiscent about his treatment of the colonel. Sure, he had plenty a reason to hate that mans guts. Eric led them into this wasteland. His program mistook an ancient underground temple for an enemy storage facility. Nick was dating Eric's wife.

And yet there was a spark of admiration for the colonel blooming inside Nicks chest. One he tried to ignore as best as he can. Eric had saved him multiple times down there, putting his own life at risk to protect Nick of all people, which took a lot of strength of character and courage to do. Of course Nick, who was aware of his own gentle and sensitive nature, would be unable to shrug those acts off like it was nothing. He was merely grateful, Nick reassured himself.

The marine kicked a pebble across the field and sighed. Just as he was about to turn on his heels, he had wandered a tiny bit too far from site and would most likely get an earful from either Jason or Eric for it later, he heard his name being called from somewhere behind him. Elliott was jogging up to him and waving.

“Sargent Kay, thank you for taking over my patrol for a minute. I'm back now so you can return to your tent.” the young man nodded at Nick with a friendly smile. Nick mirrored the gesture.

“Sure. I've got nothing to report, if you don't count the poor traumatized shrew I almost shot.”

Elliott pulled his brows together in a sympathetic way.

“Poor thing,” he commented and then joked, “I'll make sure to apologize to it on your behalf.”

Nick didn't bother holding back a chuckle, “I would be most grateful.”

On his was back into the middle of their campsite Nick followed the tracks that their truck had left in the sand earlier with his eyes. Jason had been sent off with a few of the new guys to fetch Zain and bring him here. A sigh escaped Nicks lips when he was walking past the tent where Jason, Salim and himself were supposed to be bunking. Salim had decided to retreat to their tent after Nick was asked to jump in for Elliott's patrol for a minute, files of the inventory in hand so he could read through them to get his mind off of things. Nick couldn't blame him. He had seen the face Salim made whenever he talked about his son down in the tunnels, their first encounter ended in a conversation about how Salim wasn't supposed to be on his mission to fight some marines and instead spend Zain's birthday in the comfort of their home. A strong feeling of empathy flooded through Nick and he found himself going back and forth on whether he should enter and at least ask Salim if he needed anything. Against his better judgment he turned away and decided that some quiet might help him a lot more.

“Sargent Kay!”

Rachel's voice pulled Nick out of his train of thought. He looked up to see the CIA agent wave at him from the colonels tend, motioning for him to come in. The corner of Nick's lips curled up slightly as he looked at the woman, pure affection racing through his veins at the sheer sight of her, and he jogged up to her, entering through the opening.

“How's he holding up?” Rachel asked as Nick walked past her. The marine shrug with his shoulders.

“Mmh, as well as one can expect from him.” Nick replied and took a look around the tent. Eric was sitting at the fold-up desk with his back turned to his wife and her lover, typing away at a laptop. A few feet next to the desk was a cot, certainly bigger than the ones in the marine's tents, even garnished with two pillows and a blanket. Quite the luxury in the field.

“I figured he would be nervous,” Rachel sighed and sat down on the cot, her gaze trailing off into the distance, “I hope Jason can get the boy here without trouble. If all goes to plan then they should arrive here soon.”

Eric nodded, but didn't verbally participate in the conversation, eyes still glued to the screen in front of him. Nick shifted his weight, unsure on what to do with his body.

“He'll manage. As much as he is a jarhead, Jason is also capable and understanding of Salim's situation. Although I wouldn't be surprised if he returned with a few bruises here and there.” he joked. To Nicks surprise it was Eric who huffed a laugh.

“I hope not. We need our Lieutenant in good condition,” the colonel shifted in his chair to look at Nick and nodded towards the cot, “you don't have to stand there all awkwardly. Sit down.”

Nicks eyebrows twitched upwards. It shouldn't feel so strange to him to be offered a seat on Rachel and Eric's bed, considering they spent a few days together stuck in a tiny room with Jason and Salim, sleeping on thin mattresses with barely any space between their bodies.

Still, having Eric of all people tell him to take a seat on their bed caused the spark inside Nicks chest to glimmer a little more. Nick glanced over at Rachel, who scooted over for him, and sat down. The blanket covering the cot was surprisingly comfortable considering the circumstances.

“It's gonna feel weird.”

Rachel and Eric both looked at Nick, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. The marine waved his hand towards the cot.

“Sleeping in a different tent, I mean. Guess the last few nights have left an impression on me. I'm already used to cuddling until I fall asleep.” he snickered and shrug his shoulders, a slight pain shooting through his upper body from where his wound on his shoulder was still in the process of healing. Neither of his superiors replied right away, instead Rachel tilted her head until it was leaning against Nicks arm. They spend a few heartbeats like this and Nick noticed Eric watching them with an unreadable, but not at all hostile, expression.

“I have to admit, it was nice sleeping between you two,” Rachel muttered, her lips a thin line, “it certainly helped keeping the nightmares at bay.”

Nick nodded in agreement with Rachel and breathed softly, grabbing Rachel's hand in a tight but loving grip and kissed the top of her head. Eric tilted his head like he always did when he was deep in thought about something, his gaze growing distant, and Nick found himself wondering what might possibly go through the colonels mind. A long moment of silence filled the tent, broken by the keys of the laptop ticking away again after Eric flinched slightly, something Nick would have easily overlooked had he not been staring at the man for a few heartbeats (something Nick tried not to think about too much). Although it wasn't just Nick who noticed.

“What's wrong?” Rachel asked Eric in a tone of voice Nick barely ever heard out of her mouth, a kind of concern that she always tries to control, but said control always broke when it came to Eric for reasons Nick could only imagine having to do with the bond of love they shared. Even though it was unlike Rachel to be so openly overprotective of someone. The colonel frowned in response.

“Don't worry. It's just,” he sighed, “the usual.”

“'The usual'?” Nick repeated, raising an eyebrow. Rachel closed her eyes as she exhaled loudly.

“Does it hurt?”

It felt like lightning struck Nick right then and there as realization hit him like a truck.

Eric's leg.

The colonel ran a hand through his blonde locks, a small sigh escaping his lips and he nodded slightly. Like she was waiting for this moment all this time, Rachel jumped up and approached Eric, reaching out with a hand to delicately caress his arm. Her brown eyes were filled with worry and a hint of guilt that left Eric clearly feeling uneasy.

“Maybe you need a break. Do you need to take it off?” she asked gently but Eric violently shook his head in response.

“I'm okay, really. I promise.” his voice was a lot harsher than he probably intended for it to sound. Rachel took a step back, her expression still full of worry and guilt and even Nick felt forced to sit up straight when he heard the colonel's tone of voice. Eric's pair of amber eyes wandered back and forth between Nick and Rachel and he blinked a few times, a hint of regret burrowed in them. He flinched again as he got up from his chair and took a few steps through the tent with no real destination.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you.” Eric apologized and closed his eyes. He looked exhausted all of a sudden, tired of the pressure of the mission ahead and the posture he had to uphold in front of the higher ups. If Nick didn't know better, he'd say that Eric was tired of fighting. There was a painful tenseness in Eric's shoulders that filled Nick with the same, or at least similar concern as Rachel.

The marine chewed on the inside of his cheek for a second, unsure with himself about what he could do to lighten up the situation and make the colonel feel better. Then he got up and put a hand on Eric's shoulder, who immediately relaxed a little bit under the touch.

“Want me to take a look?” he asked quietly and tapped the shoulder straps of his backpack with a faint smile, remembering the role he had adopted despite his inexperience in the role of field medic. But if it meant helping out the people around him, then he would do his absolute best to make them feel better. Especially the ones he considered closest. “It's my duty as nurse Nick after all.”

Before Eric could react however they heard the engine of a truck getting closer. All three of them bolted towards the tent flap, looking out to see the dark campsite illuminated by the trucks headlights approaching quickly, zooming across the sand until it came to a screeching halt in the center of camp. Although it was quite dark, despite the few UV lamps they had set up as best as they could to keep potential stray vampires at bay, Nick could still make out Jason's face in the back of the truck, sitting next to a young man whose resemblance to Salim was undoubtedly. Zain looked terrified but also strangely curious. As soon as the truck came to a full halt, Mosson and Palmer jumped out and Nick fully expected them to guide Zain out of the truck or at least walk away for some rest after a successful mission. The fact that they immediately raised their guns and pointed them at the boy, causing Jason to react with his own gun pointed back at them, sent an ice cold shiver down Nicks spine.

“What the fuck-” Rachel exclaimed but Eric was quick to react. He went into a hasty jog, most likely held back from full-on sprinting by the phantom pain he tried (and mostly succeeded) to fight back, and shouted at the marines.

Luckily, his authority seemed to knock some sense into the newbies as they got a verbal beat down by both Jason and Eric before turning on their heels and retreating towards their tent. Nick and Rachel breathed a sigh of relief in unison and the marine thanked Eric in his mind for being so quick to react.

He watched Zain jump off the back of the truck and then he noticed the flap to one of the tents open. Salim stuck his head out and immediately froze in disbelief and amazement when his eyes fixated on his son. The heartfelt scene unfolding in front of everyone almost brought a tear to Nicks eye. The way Zain and Salim clung to each other. Now Nick definitely felt the connection between father and son and cursed under his breath when remembering what Salim had to go through to get to this point. It was unfair and cruel.

Rachel bumped her elbow against Nicks side, smiling up at him. Nick blinked the tear away and shrug his shoulders with a grin. Meanwhile, Salim pulled Zain into their tent, hopefully able to talk in private.

Then they noticed Jason and Eric talking while they unloaded the truck and as they both brought the bags towards the colonel's tent, Eric yelled an order through the dark of the campsite.

“Everyone off to your tents! Radios stay on in case of emergencies!”

The pair arrived at the tent and Jason dropped three heavy bags in one corner, nodding towards Rachel and Nick.

“Should've guessed.” he smirked as he locked eyes with Nick, who immediately noticed the new bruise blooming on Jason's face.

“Could say the same about you,” Nick joked, pointing at the damage, “too bad I didn't take a bet. I could've made bank.”

Jason play-kicked at Nick's foot but missed the other marine by an inch or so. Rachel and Eric looked at the bags, sharing a confused expression.

“Well, too bad we don't have any money, babe,” Rachel absentmindedly commentated on Nick's joke but then turned her attention towards Jason, face as serious as usual, “the contract said two bags total.”

“Don't worry about it. One's for Salim. But I got something else that the boy needs help with.” Jason approached Rachel, a tense expression adorning his facial features like something was truly at stake here. Rachel pulled her eyebrows together but showed willingness to listen. She nodded slightly and grabbed Jason's arm to lead him into a corner of the tent so they could talk quietly.

Nick and Eric watched them whisper for a few seconds until Eric shifted his weight and winced like he did before. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and leaned against the desk to get the pressure off of his leg. In a panic, Nick reached out to catch Eric, afraid he might fall over, but he held back from touching him once Eric was securely leaned against the desk. Nicks instantaneous willingness to support him clearly took Eric by surprise.

“You don't look good, colonel,” Nick whispered with a warm but worried voice, “please, let me check you out.”

Eric started to shake his head and opened his mouth but Nick wouldn't let him protest this time.

“Eric. You're in pain. Rachel can see it, I can see it. Let us help you, please!”

There was that spark again. It glimmered like a warm fireplace in Nicks chest, it felt comforting and familiar, and it only increased in it's intensity when the blonde man locked eyes with Nick. There was a hint of admiration in Eric's amber eyes.

Thankfulness.

Tenderness.

Eric was a few inches taller than Nick, Nick's eyes were almost at the same level as Eric's nose and the marine blinked hard when he realized that his gaze wandered down towards Eric's lips for a fraction of a second. Luckily, the colonel didn't seem to notice.

Nick didn't want Eric to think that his intentions were not about medical care, but more about coming on to him. Even if the hint of a desire to run his fingers through Eric's soft hair popped up in his head for a split second.

“... alright.”

Nick immediately pushed his backpack off his shoulders but Eric held up a hand.

“Later,” Eric whispered, glancing over at Jason and Rachel who were clearly about to end their quiet discussion, “and take a look at her too, please. She wouldn't dare show it, but her arm worries me just as much.”

“Mh, will do.” Nick agreed. Rachel truly never showed any pain. She was stoic, strong. But Nick always thought it was a mask she put on to protect herself from others, but perhaps mostly from herself. He wondered if she built that hard shell around herself because of her and Eric's accident. No matter how much she tried not to show it, she still felt guilty and hurt and was trying everything she could to stay in control over her emotions. She was running away from something just like Nick was.

Nick felt the urge to hold Rachel close and not let go.

To protect her from any kind of cruelty the world might try and fling at her.

Kiss her until her soul was healed.

Let the world know what he felt for her.

Hold their hands through hell and back.

'Their hands' Nick repeated in his head, freezing up inside like he was a kid getting caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. Instead of an annoyed parent, though, he was the one who caught himself.

“Earth to Nick,” Jason snapped his fingers in front of Nick's face, pulling him out of his train of thought. Nick blinked so his eyes could focus on the Lieutenant in front of him.

“Yeah?”

“Salim and Zain might take a while to catch up,” Jason said, “with our Colonel's permission I will do one last patrol through camp. Give 'em time to talk. Wanna come with?”

“Go ahead,” Eric answered Jason's indirect question, but gave him an apologetic smile, “but I need Sargent Kay here a little longer. Think you can handle this patrol by yourself?”

Jason chuckled as he turned on his heel to walk out the tent.

“Yessir!”

None of them said a word until Jason's footsteps were certainly out of earshot. It was Rachel who broke the silence first.

“Well. That's something.” she mumbled, her expression still as stern as when she was still talking to Jason. Eric leaned forward as much as his body would let him.

“He sounded serious. What is this 'special request' all about?”

“He didn't give me the details. Emphasized I need to make sure Zain will actually get through to London and that Zain was carrying something important.” she muttered and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Nick made a confused sound.

“The hell does that mean? Did Zain kill somebody or some shit?”

Rachel shrug her shoulders and then turned to her husband, a different kind of sternness in her eyes.

“No idea. Whatever, you are more important right now.”

Eric swallowed and raised his hands defensively.

“I know, Rach, I know. I promised Nick that he can take a look at it already. You can calm down now.” he explained frantically, to which his wife stuck out her jaw.

“You better.” she replied, grabbed Eric by the hand and pushed him onto the cot. Like making sure he wouldn't change his mind midway through, she sat down half beside him, half behind him and put her hands on both of his shoulders, squeezing lightly.

Eric sighed.

“Okay, okay. I promise, I'll stay right here.”

Nick didn't bother hiding the chuckle that escaped his throat. His Colonel looked like a boy being put into his place at the doctors office by his mother. Still grinning he opened his backpack, making sure whatever tools and medication he might need was close enough to grab.

“Permission to run my hand up your leg, Sir?”

Eric made an unimpressed face and gently kicked Nick in the shin, making Rachel snort.

“Just making sure.” Nick grinned back and pulled up the leg of Eric's pants until it was shoved up above the knee. The prosthesis had a few scratches here and there and was a bit dirty from their previous adventure with the vampires, but otherwise looked perfectly intact. The skin of Eric's knee however was already starting to turn red with irritation. Nick frowned at the sight.

“Shit looks painful.” he thought out loud.

“Shit feels painful.” Eric retorted and leaned forward to unclip the fake leg. Nick helped him pull it and the bit of fabric protecting his skin off so he could take a better look. Eric's right leg was cut off a few inches below the knee and his skin was red with irritation. A sigh of relief escaped Eric's lips as the pressure was finally released.

Nick noticed Rachel wince in the corner of his eye.

“Fuck, Eric. You should've said something.”

Eric didn't respond as he looked down sheepishly.

Nick tried to be as gentle as possible as he checked Eric's leg for injuries or chafing that broke the skin. Luckily it seemed that it was just the pressure that hurt the most.

“Well, good thing is you're not bleeding. All that chafing merely irritated the skin,” he explained, hand still resting on Eric's knee, “do you want some ice? Or painkillers?”

The Colonel bit his lower lip in thought.

“You got any ointment? It's a tad itchy.” he ultimately requested. Nick burrowed his hand in his backpack, fumbling around until he found a bottle of ointment. Without thinking he opened it and was already holding his other hand under it to catch the liquid when he stopped dead in his tracks. His mouth went dry at the thought of rubbing the ointment over Eric's leg, massaging it into his naked skin.

Even worse, what if Eric insisted on taking off his pants so that they wouldn't get drenched in ointment?

Feeling his brain short-circuiting for a second he awkwardly held out the opened bottle for Eric to grab, praying that the heat in his cheeks wasn't visible in the dim light.

“... thanks.” Eric mumbled and took the bottle with a raised eyebrow. Rachel mirrored her husbands confusion but said nothing. Nick swallowed, trying to moisturize his throat and then turned to his lover.

“Your arm. How's it holding up?” he asked gently. Despite what Nick had expected, Rachel didn't wave him off, instead she pulled her shirt up and above her head, even though Nick merely needed her to pull up a sleeve, revealing her upper body wrapped in only a bra with one upper arm bandaged.

And if his throat wasn't dry before it now turned into sandpaper.

There was no way Rachel didn't know what her half-naked body would do to the two men in the tent with her. She must have done it on purpose, Nick thought, there was no other way to explain this.

Rachel rolled her injured arm a little, testing out how far she can push her pain limits and then smiled at Nick.

“I can work with it. Probably just needs some cleaning.”

Nick nodded, trying not to stare at Rachel's skin, just like Eric desperately attempted to put his entire focus on massaging the ointment into his irritated skin. They both had mediocre success, casting Rachel a few shy glances here and there. The woman let Nick unwrap her upper arm, noticing (or anticipating) his shaking fingers. Nick cursed at himself in his mind. He must really be down bad if Rachel's not even naked upper body and Eric's exposed leg of all things made his skin tingle like he was a horny teenager.

The marine cleared his throat as he cleaned the wound, checking for any signs that it wasn't healing correctly. He was pleasantly surprised to see that it was doing well.

“Looks good,” he croaked, “should be gone in a few days.”

Rachel giggled at Nicks reaction, grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled him closer until their lips touched. Nicks heart did a flip in his chest and he leaned in to deepen the kiss as much as he could, careful not to touch Rachel's still exposed wound.

Rachel gently pushed him away again after a few heartbeats, breaking the kiss, making Nick's heart yearn for more. For a second Rachel stared at him, counting the freckles on Nick's cheeks.

Their eye contact broke when Eric leaned in from the side, one hand slowly brushing through Rachel's hair until he held the back of her head in his hand. Nick leaned back to give the married couple some space and something started to build up in his guts as he watched their eyes connect. Nick already had this feeling when they were down in the temple, a heat that made his skin prickle. Down there he called it jealousy. He called it frustration and anger.

And maybe it was jealousy.

But not the kind he initially thought it was.

His eyes were glued to them, he couldn't dare look away, and as soon as Eric's lips brushed Rachel's Nick felt a breath stuck in his throat.

And then the buzzing sound of a radio made all three of them jump. Nick, who was closest to their equipment, leaned over, fumbling with his hands as he tried to grab the radio when Salim's voice came through, speaking Arabic. Nick tilted his head when he heard his last name in between the foreign words but Rachel crawled off the cot and snatched the radio from his hands.

“That's for me.” she explained but before she could push the button to reply a different voice cut through.

“Keep that shit off the radio. You know English, speak it. Made us think there was an enemy nearby.”

“Sounds like Jones,” Nick grumbled and scrunched up his nose in anger, “fucking asshole.”

Another voice joined the conversation, if you could call it that, a groggy sounding Jason telling Salim to disregard what Jones hat barked at him and giving said marine a verbal beat-down to shut him up.

Eric raised his eyebrows in respect for his Lieutenant.

“Heard my name, though, and sure didn’t understand the message, so say again, Othman?” Jason asked through the radio and now Rachel decided would be a good time to step in.

“It was for me, Kolchek.” she explained, not trying to hide the smirk that shone through her words. She talked in Arabic without waiting for a reply, dropped the radio in Nick's hands and grabbed her shirt.

“Salim wants to talk to me. It shouldn't take long.”

“I haven't finished wrapping up your wound, though.” Nick complained but Rachel held up a hand to make him stop.

“We can do that afterwards. Like you said, it's looking good already. It can manage a few minutes of air.”

Flashing the two men a soft smile she disappeared into the dark of the night, leaving Eric and Nick alone in the tent. There was a hint of awkwardness in the air and neither of them spoke a word for what felt like ages. Nick's mind was starting to come up with all sorts of fantasies about what Eric could be thinking right now. Was he upset, sad, frustrated, jealous?

Nick didn't dare look at the Colonel, instead sucking on his teeth as nervousness filled his body. This was the first time Rachel had kissed both of them back to back while the other man watched. And without the threat of death looming over them.

“I, uh,” Eric finally spoke, clearing his throat, “... we good?”

Nick couldn't help but notice the irony in those words. He turned to Eric, who had a slight rosy tint in his cheeks, and allowed for his lips to curl upwards.

“Yeah, we good.”

Eric smiled back, seemingly relieved.

“Thank you, by the way. For your help.”

Nick accepted the bottle of ointment offered back to him and put it in his backpack.

“'s what I'm here for, Sir,” Nick saluted, but in a less formal way. Eric shook his head.

“Maybe, but still. Considering our backstory, I guess it would be understandable if you didn't feel like helping me out. Even though you are certainly a very loyal and dedicated soldier.”

Nick decided to take the compliment with grace. He walked over and dared to sit next to Eric on the cot, still ready to get up as soon as he notices any uncomfortableness in Eric's aura. Which he didn't.

“I suppose getting my ass saved more than once by you helped change my opinion,” he admitted shyly, “you're not as stuck-up as I thought you were.”

The corners of Eric's lips curled up, enjoying their conversation.

“You're welcome. I'm also very grateful that you didn't let me fall into those ditches. I definitely owe you, Nick.”

Once again, the spark in Nick's chest glimmered like embers. His fists tensed up on his lap, trying desperately to suppress this feeling. It's just gratefulness, he reminded himself, Nick was grateful and nothing else.

“You made up for it the moment you gave me your UV lamp when I went into the nest. Took me by surprise, though, but I'm thankful.”

“Speaking of which, I don't know if it was bravely stupid or stupidly brave of you to do that. I mean, it did an impressive amount of damage and you made it out fine, so I guess it was a success. But I wonder what went through your mind.”

Eric leaned slightly forward, trying to catch Nicks eyes. Nick knew the ball was in his court now and he had the choice to either play it cool or open up to Eric of all people and show his true colors.

The latter was probably the healthier option, he decided.

“I guess I wanted to protect. I was terrified the entire way down there, good thing you guys couldn't see the face I made when one of those things was looking for me. Thought I was having a heart attack,” he joked but Eric didn't laugh so Nick continued. “As soon as I placed the last round of explosives though, and saw those things around me, the fear was gone in an instant. Instead I was thinking of the people I hold dear. My family, my fellow marines, Jason, Rachel...”

Nick huffed a tiny laugh.

“Even Salim and you were on my mind. Dunno if it was some sort of twisted heroism complex, but as soon as I popped the flare I prayed that you guys would make it out alive.”

Nick paused and finally dared to properly look at Eric. The Colonel was sitting straight, taking in Nick's face like he desperately wanted to hear more. The spark turned into embers once again and Nick drowned in Eric's amber eyes for a second before continuing.

“I thought I was about to die for real. But you heard me. You guys came back for me.”

A sympathetic expression adorned Eric's face and he nodded ever so slightly.

“... I couldn't leave one of my best men behind.”

Nick heard what Eric said and it resulted in a war of conflicting emotions. On one hand he was happy to get yet another compliment, to proudly wear this verbal medal that Eric just awarded him with.

On the other hand he felt incredibly humbled. Was he truly just another soldier in Eric's eyes?

Both sides tucked at him, swaying him back and forth between pride and disappointment. He tried his hardest not to show his insecurity on the outside.

“Thank you,” he said instead, his voice a little sharper than before, “I appreciate that, Colonel.”

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but Nick could have sworn he saw a hint of regret in Eric's gaze, like he wanted to take back what he said or reword it so his feelings came across better. Nick ultimately wrote it off as nothing, so he dropped it, even if part of him wanted Eric to explain further.

“Ow, what the fuck Rach?!”

Jason's offended sounding voice echoed through to their tent and Nick and Eric immediately burst out laughing.

“Sounds like she's done talking.” Eric commented through his laugh. Nick nodded.

“No idea what he did, but Jason probably deserved it.”

The entrance of the tent was pushed open and Rachel stepped through, a hint of relief and pride on her face. She flopped down between Nick and Eric, grinning to herself.

“He's such an idiot.” she exclaimed, obviously talking about Jason and Nick couldn't agree more.

“Do we even dare to ask?” Eric smirked in Rachel's direction but his wife waved him off.

“He was just worried about nothing. Felt the urge to kick him in the shin for it, so I did.”

Nick expressed his admiration for his lover by whistling.

“Kicking a sleeping Kolchek, you're truly brave, Ma'am.”

“Speaking of sleeping,” Rachel turned her attention towards Nick, “where will you sleep? Zain will be with Salim until 0400 when I pick him up, so that's occupied until then.”

Nick pulled together his eyebrows as he thought through all the options he had. Maybe he could find a spare cot in the equipment tent, or curl up in the back of the truck. None of those options sounded appealing, though.

“Do you have a pillow?” he asked, ultimately settling on the back of the truck.

Eric nodded and turned towards a bag hidden under the cot, opening it and pulling out a pillow like the two already on the bed. Nick raised is arm to grab it but Eric threw it onto the cot instead like it was the most obvious thing in the world to do. He showed genuine confusion when Nick widened his eyes.

“Oh. I thought you-” Eric stuttered, “... I thought you meant that you want to sleep here with us. Was I wrong?”

His heart skipped a beat as Nick glanced back and forth between the pillow and Eric. Although this wasn't what he intended, he felt a kind of happiness rise up in his stomach.

“Uhm, I mean, I'd rather do that than what I had in mind.”

“What did you have in mind?” Rachel chimed in, squinting at her lover in suspicion. Nick raised his hands.

“I mean, the truck's pretty safe? I could've made that work.” he explained himself, faltering more and more with each word he spoke under Rachel's gaze. The woman shook her head.

“Nonsense. You're sleeping here with us. Colonel's orders.”

Eric looked shyly between the two people in front of him.

“I thought that was obvious.”

Nick couldn't help but smile softly. The fact that Rachel and Eric thought letting Nick sleep with them was self-evident made his appreciation for them increase tenfold. Well, he might have expected something like that from Rachel, but Eric?

All it did was set the spark in his chest aflame once more.

Rachel kicked off her boots and took a quick look at her watch.

“Still got a few hours until I have to pick up Zain. Enough time for a power nap.” she decided and turned to Nick. “Can you wrap me up so I can sleep a bit?”

Nick gratefully returned to his nurse duties, finished cleaning up Rachel's wound and put a fresh bandage around it. He then followed suit and unlaced his boots, put them neatly under the cot and crawled across the blanket until he was at the far side of the cot, next to the tent wall. It felt good, really good, to lay down next to Rachel again, like they did back at the base but this time without the constant gas masks watching their every move. On the other end of the cot Eric ran a hand through his hair, rubbed over his sore leg once or twice and then stretched out next to Rachel on the cot. They had to snuggle up a little, the cot was bigger than the standard sizes but still only supposed to support two people maximum. Nick didn't care. He enjoyed being able to wrap his arms around Rachel and pull her closer. Rachel cuddled up to both men, her forehead resting against Nicks chest and the back of her legs pressed against Eric's.

“I'll try not to wake you up.” she mumbled.

“The way you're clinging onto us might make that pretty hard.” Nick giggled, already feeling his limbs getting heavier. Eric chuckled behind Rachel.

“You can wake me up. For my goodbye kiss.”

“Stop acting like I won't return. You're so needy.” Rachel retorted harshly but the smile in her voice was too obvious not to notice.

“I want my goodbye kiss too.” Nick added, voice getting groggy.

“So needy.” Rachel repeated.

Nick managed to exhale a barely audible giggle.

And the last thing he remembered before drifting off to sleep were the rustling sound of fabric and the fingertips of a third hand resting on his waist.

[sirfrancisvarney]

Oh, last night's episode was so upsetting to watch. Even if a lot of everyone's misery was the result of their own choices, none of them deserved that, not even Hank. Fuck grifters. Bunch of scum-sucking lowlifes, all of them. I know Hank is an asshole, but so much of his bullshit stems from his insecurities and sense of inferiority. His wife left him because he wasn't good enough, Danvers looks down on him, and even his own son prefers Danvers to him. That will really screw a person up. And Pete's starting to show the same insecurities. His wife should not have called him stupid in the previous episode. (And Navarro should have put her foot down and waited until morning to go see Tagaq. That didn't have to happen on Christmas Eve. It's not like the trail would have gotten any colder.) I wish Leah could understand that Danvers really does actually care about her, but unfortunately Danvers has chosen death before emotional vulnerability. And then there's Navarro, who pretty much hit rock bottom last night. She tried so hard to look after her sister and it all came to nothing. That's enough of the touchy-feely stuff. I'm not any better at it than Danvers is. Back to the murders.

So according to Danvers (I don't know that I'd personally make that claim based on a single frame, but I'll roll with it), there's electricity in the ice caves, which suggests there were people, so that puts a mark in the "killer is a human" column. If the scientists were getting their core samples from the ice caves, that would explain their connection to Annie Kowtok. Either they stumbled upon the same thing she was investigating, or she found out what they were really studying, and whatever it (or "she") was, finally woke up. I'm going to go with the former theory for now.

I hope they'll be able to get more information out of Otis Heiss, or at least get him someplace warm and feed him a hot meal. He looked rather pitiful. His left eye is clouded over, same as the polar bear and the one woman in the background at the activist meeting. His injuries happened April 20 1998, and I'd guess they were caused by something in the caves. I don't know if it's meaningful or a coincidence, but Annie K. died on April 18, same time of year. I do wonder why she was just stabbed and beaten to death, instead of getting the weird injuries like the men. I wonder if the gender of the victims is significant.

Did Tagaq flee to save his own skin, or does he have delusions of heroism? Not saving himself from the cops, but whatever Lund might have unleashed. And I'm starting to feel a little suspicious of Rose, but maybe I'm just being paranoid. Wish she'd mentioned exactly what she studied. And since she's the only one who recognizes the spiral and appears willing to talk, I really wish Navarro would ask her about it. Maybe after Qavvik gives her the stone she left behind at his place. I hope he gives it back. Please don't make him turn out to be sinister, True Detective. I still haven't recovered from the last time a borderline-feral POC detective finally let her guard down and opened up to a seemingly kind and empathetic man, only for him to turn out to be the main villain. Don't make me go through that again.

On the supernatural (maybe) side, Navarro's family apparently has close ties to the underworld, or afterlife, or whatever you want to call the land of the dead. Unfortunately, not being knowledgeable about Inuit religion or mythology, I don't have any insights here. While I'm willing to entertain the idea that Navarro does have close ties to the other side, I'm not willing to say definitively that that's what's happening. Holden's polar bear in her visions isn't convincing enough proof to me. She and Danvers used to be so close that Danvers knew where she put cans in her kitchen. I'm sure Navarro has been to Danvers's house before and seen the bear, either without consciously remembering it or recognizing the significance of it. Either way, it doesn't really matter to me which it is. As long as the main mystery gets solved in a way that feels fair, I'll be satisfied with the series.  

I hope Navarro's all right. Bleeding from the ears can be caused by head injuries, and it's a very bad sign when it happens (although I don't know if it can suddenly occur hours after the event). Bleeding from the ears in general is pretty much a "go straight to hospital" kind of situation. Her sister's body is also due to come back that day. I wonder if she'll try to tie her death to the scientists. She did take all her clothes off and fold them up neatly just like them. If her body has any other similarities, that would put a few marks in the "killer is supernatural" column.

[anosrepasi]

10 Character/10 Fandoms/10 Tags

Tagged by the wonderful @aeide :)

Nil (Horizon Dawn Zero/Forbidden West) - My current obsession I'm rotating around in my mind. What's not to love he's charming in the sense that his most common AU occupation is "Serial Killer." Will he kill you? Depends! Only if you suck, and he promises to never stab you in the back, he wants to look you in the eye if he tries to kill you. But actually, I find him utterly fascinating and in the context of HZD he's just. so nuanced it destroys me. This man has decades of c-ptsd and asks the question of what happens when someone drenched in violence is suddenly expected to stop fighting- the answer is, it takes a lot! I adore him.

Kassandra (AC:Odyssey) - Look the more I think about Kassandra and like the canon quests in that game the more I'm like. They did you wrong, girl. They did you so dirty. SHE JUST WANTS TO GO HOME. IT TAKES DECADES. HER STORY IS A FUSION OF THE ODYSSEY AND THE ILIAD. YOU CAN APPLY THEMES FROM BOTHA ND IT DRIVES ME INSANE. And. And then they say, all thsi you worked so hard for? Well. We have other things we need from you. I am going to chew through my arm.

Mizu (Blue Eye Samurai) - Look. I could link thousand upon thousands words of meta about Mizu and her/they're relationship to gender and existence as a mixed race individual in isolationist Japan. And it still wouldn't capture it all. And past that it's hot person brutally murdering people in absolutely fantastically animated fight scenes.

Vincent Valentine (Final Fantasy VII) - Look. He's my original blorbo. I saw 10 minutes of screen time of him in Advent Children and have been insane ever since. I bought and played through Dirge of Cerberus for him. Something about him apparently just imprinted on me as a child, I've been a lost cause ever since.

Xaden Riorson (Fourth Wing/Iron Flame) - These books are still relatively new so I'll hold my tongue since a lot of what I am obsessed with re: him is spoilers but oh my god. oh. my. god. buddy.

Axel (Kingdom Hearts) - Also an original blorbo from childhood, imprinted on him like a baby duck. His death in KH2 made me bawl. His entire storyline makes me sob, he's the reason why every single aspect of Roxas' story was a gut punch cause like. The best way to make people care about characters is give them someone who loves them then make it sad.

Charles Milton Porter (Bioshock 2: Minerva's Den) - Look. This dude's DLC made me cry. big cry. I still kinda get choked up when i think about it for a while. it's about the grief.

Kena: Bridge of Spirits - I can't choose a characters from this, so I just advise everyone to play this game. It's so good. You're going to be emotionally devastated. It's also about grief. Every character in this game is so so good and you will feel things.

Joe Miller (The Expanse) - He was not the first but he was my defining love of shitty noir space detectives. I loved him from when he was introduced to when he left the series and my love was rewarded so much. Holden and Amos were the runner up characters for this fandom.

Death (The Book Thief) - I read the book thief for the first time in 7th grade I think? Every day of my life since them on my commute to work or when on break I look at the sky and think about how Death would describe the taste of the colors. This book irrecoverably changed me from the day I read it and firmly cemented this Death as the death i hope is there at the end of everything, i love this version of it so much. This death is like. look. go read the book if you haven't had the opportunity.

Tagging for anyone who wants to do it: @ongreenergrasses @lobstermatriarch @airmidcelt @tirsynni @aevallare @duesternis @salsedine @avelera @thehoundkeeper @green-nbean

[pugzman3]

Psalms chapter 73

1 (A Psalm of Asaph.) Truly God is good to Israel, even to such as are of a clean heart.

2 But as for me, my feet were almost gone; my steps had well nigh slipped.

3 For I was envious at the foolish, when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.

4 For there are no bands in their death: but their strength is firm.

5 They are not in trouble as other men; neither are they plagued like other men.

6 Therefore pride compasseth them about as a chain; violence covereth them as a garment.

7 Their eyes stand out with fatness: they have more than heart could wish.

8 They are corrupt, and speak wickedly concerning oppression: they speak loftily.

9 They set their mouth against the heavens, and their tongue walketh through the earth.

10 Therefore his people return hither: and waters of a full cup are wrung out to them.

11 And they say, How doth God know? and is there knowledge in the most High?

12 Behold, these are the ungodly, who prosper in the world; they increase in riches.

13 Verily I have cleansed my heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocency.

14 For all the day long have I been plagued, and chastened every morning.

15 If I say, I will speak thus; behold, I should offend against the generation of thy children.

16 When I thought to know this, it was too painful for me;

17 Until I went into the sanctuary of God; then understood I their end.

18 Surely thou didst set them in slippery places: thou castedst them down into destruction.

19 How are they brought into desolation, as in a moment! they are utterly consumed with terrors.

20 As a dream when one awaketh; so, O Lord, when thou awakest, thou shalt despise their image.

21 Thus my heart was grieved, and I was pricked in my reins.

22 So foolish was I, and ignorant: I was as a beast before thee.

23 Nevertheless I am continually with thee: thou hast holden me by my right hand.

24 Thou shalt guide me with thy counsel, and afterward receive me to glory.

25 Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee.

26 My flesh and my heart faileth: but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.

27 For, lo, they that are far from thee shall perish: thou hast destroyed all them that go a whoring from thee.

28 But it is good for me to draw near to God: I have put my trust in the Lord GOD, that I may declare all thy works.

[livsteas]

my year of rest and relaxation review

this review does contain spoilers. this book is also undoubtedly 18+ and no minors should be partaking in it.

i want to begin this review by talking directly to those who dislike it. there were many mixed reviews from what i saw about this book before purchasing it, and most just cited the fact that the main character is awful as a person and horribly depressing. well, that is true. she is definitely that. but a bad main character doesn’t make a bad book. she’s still very well-written and captivating as a narrator, even if unreliable. if you prefer books where the main character is a good-hearted heroine, i promise there is a whole world out there for you. but if you are still willing to read, i would absolutely 100% recommend this book to you. holden caufield in “the catcher in the rye” is just as miserable, but apparently that book is a classic, i guess (i really had no pleasure in dragging through that one in high school.)

the premise of the book is super simple; she pretty much just wants to sleep the whole year, following feeling unfulfilled in life, and wanting some sort of rebirth. this summary makes it sound incredibly boring, but there is never a dull moment in the story. nothing my eyes wanted to skip over. i was hooked on every word and paragraph. Moshfegh writes in such a beautiful way that was simple (and a good break after reading sense and sensibility) but powerful, as if the main character herself was furiously scribbling into a notebook every time she came back to consciousness.

you never truly feel sorry for the character. she is a total asshole. a complete entitled, self-centered, rich asshole. but her thoughts are still expressed in a way that can be relatable. i think that’s what makes it so captivating. even though she exhibits extreme behavior, it is still relatable on a base level. being unsatisfied with the career you’ve chosen. the death of family to suicide, to cancer. a love-hate relationship between long time friends. wanting a fresh start.

i do also think Moshfegh picked the perfect time period to place this book in. 2000-2001 are very simplistic but complicated years. the emergence of new technology yet still just primitive enough. the joy of the VHS player where she watches movies on repeat makes it so thought dialogue is better concise, but she is also not scrolling for hours upon hours on social media distracting herself and putting herself to sleep that way.

the lingering theme on 9/11 is also pretty haunting. you can see from my updates that it was constantly on my mind, but the book truly has no reason for me to think that way. Moshfegh simply slips in unnerving details about its potential future presence, like Reva being moved into the twin towers for work, or how each date after she wakes up during her hibernation is explicitly listed. i thought for a second it would just cut off before 9/11. but the final one-page chapter is as well placed as i hoped it would be.

read this book, but don’t find yourself relating too much with it. don’t allow yourself to wish for similar events. i guess that is the problem many people have with it. but it is possible to read a book at base level and just appreciate the story. you don’t have to absorb it into your very soul. it’s fiction, after all. it’s not meant to be taken 100% seriously. enjoy yourself.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

this did conclude my reading challenge for the year as well. i had set it very low at the beginning of the year because truly i didn’t expect to read at all! and then suddenly i’ve finished 3 books in the span of about a month, which is so wonderful. if you’re interested in being friends on goodreads (i have none 🥲 say yes pls) it’s linked in the pinned post on my profile.

in the seventh chapter, she mentions that she read “war and peace”, and i’m taking it as a solidifying sign, as that will be my next venture for what will probably be the rest of the year. now that will be a long, intense review. and i’ll see you at the end of the year for that. <3

[go-go-devil]

Top 5 autistic headcanons and top 5 aroace headcanons?

TRIPLE A LET'S GOOO!!!

Autism:

Dale Cooper (Twin Peaks): One of the most obviously autistic characters to ever grace television. The allistics just didn't get it probably because he was "too social" or whatever other slight deviation from what's stereotypical in autistic characters

Kris (Deltarune): I genuinely believe Kris is deliberately autistic-coded, mostly due to that "How to Care for a Human" book you find in the library in Chapter 2 but even beyond that all of their described behaviors are SUPER relatable to me as an autistic person (and bring me back to how I felt about it in my youth...)

Daniil Dankovsky & Various Other Characters (Pathologic): Thank you once again for showing me the light in how truly autistic Daniil is at his very core <3 Besides him though I'm also in agreement with the very code of Classic HD that Peter Stamatin and Grace are on the spectrum (tortured savant and death-obsessed weird girl rep respectively), but I would also argue that Yulia Lyuricheva is autistic as well. I mean the woman is described as someone who "sits in the corner and quietly observes others" and invented an entire philosophical theory in an attempt to explain the pattern of random events invisibly triggered by people. That's what we in the business call STEM-influenced autism :)

The Lodger (Knock-Knock): Yet another video game character that is so intensely autistic. Willingly living in isolation, simultaneously longing for and hating the presence of guests in your house, talking to yourself while pacing through the hallways & infodumping about the most niche scientific field imaginable? It's so relatable 🕯

Diane Nguyen (Bojack Horseman): This one maybe doesn't have the most "evidence" compared to the others per say, but I honestly found myself relating to a lot of Diane's personality quirks and struggles AS an autistic person (ex: hating surprises, trouble regulating her emotions/prone to emotional outbursts, having the most specific overly-convoluted Halloween costume ever). With her I think I'm more in the minority for this hc since her other mental illnesses overshadow her autistic traits, plus her's aren't nearly as obvious as Juda's (who as far as I'm concerned IS canonically autistic even if it's not outright stated by the characters)

Aroace:

Patches (Soulsborne Series): There is no fucking way this man has ANY desire for sex and romance. The only hole he's interested in are the enemy-infested ones he can kick you down! Plus I do know of that one famous line he says in Dark Souls 3 which he claims to be "devoid of all worldly wants" so this might as well be canon

Artemy Burakh (Pathologic): I don't care what the shippers think, I just love the idea of Artemy having a narrative revolving around the concept of "love" while being alienated and eventually coming to terms with how he himself doesn't experience this emotion in a socially conventional way. Besides just 'cause he's aroace in my mind doesn't mean he can't form QPR's ;)

Death of the Endless (The Sandman): ABSOLUTE AROACE ICON! She's a being who loves humanity, but keeps a reasonable distance between any individual person due to her role in taking their souls upon their death. Though instead of being all moping and "oh I can never allow myself to truly be close to those I love T_T" she's instead endlessly jovial and enjoys every second of spending time with other humans in a platonic fashion, brief as those seconds are in the grand scheme of her job. If that ain't actually positive aroace rep I don't know what is 🖤

Every Character in Hylics: All of them are aroace. They're functionally immortal clay aliens who probably don't even need to procreate in traditional means to produce new life, and besides they're more interested in prog rock than romance anyway 🌙 🎸🌯

Holden Caulfield (The Catcher in the Rye): A very personal hc for me. Reading that book was one of my earliest instances of me relating to a character for their lack of desire for sex and romance; in particular the whole story about Holden losing his best friend Jane due to her no longer valuing him as a friend and wanting a boyfriend instead, to which he couldn't find himself filling that role. It's just such a vivid portrayal of THE aroace experience of having your platonic connections become "lesser" in the eyes of society, and it really pisses me off that so many contribute this character trait of his as something "he refuses to grow out of" because no it fucking isn't! But then again most analyses of this book are godawful ableist pieces of shit so I'm not exactly surprised there's a lack of meaningful analysis on the main character being sexually deviant alongside his mental disorders

[ao3feed-narlie]

The Second Borns

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/yrkHjbU by alienmalec In this Bridgerton-inspired AU, Omega Charlie Spring, or "Lord Charles Spring of Claude", is making his debut in society as an eligible beau. Reeling from the surprising success of his sister Tori's season the year prior which ended with her becoming Countess of Alessandra, Charlie's stern mother Lady Spring pressures Charlie to secure an even higher-ranked match. While being pushed by his mother to pursue Lord Benjamin Hope, Marquess of Kilbourne, Charlie meets a kind young scholar, Lord Nicholas Nelson. Nick attends the London season in support of his close friend and second cousin Darcy, the Viscountess of Ferngrove, but quickly falls for Charlie upon first glance. But since he is not the heir to his family's estate, he would never get the approval of Lady Spring-- but it doesn't stop him from trying. Words: 4956, Chapters: 1/12, Language: English Fandoms: Heartstopper (TV), Heartstopper (Webcomic) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Nicholas "Nick" Nelson, Charles "Charlie" Spring (Heartstopper), Elle Argent, Tao Xu, Julio Spring, Jane Spring, Victoria "Tori" Spring, Oliver "Olly" Spring, Michael Holden (Solitaire), Darcy Olsson, Tara Jones, Benjamin "Ben" Hope, James McEwan, Issac Henderson (Heartstopper), Coach Priya Singh, Sarah Nelson, David Nelson (Heartstopper), Nellie Nelson, Henry Nelson (Heartstopper), Imogen Heaney, Sahar Zahid, Sai Verma, Otis Smith (Heartstopper), Nathan Ajayi, Youssef Farouk Relationships: Nicholas "Nick" Nelson/Charles "Charlie" Spring, Benjamin "Ben" Hope/Charles "Charlie" Spring, Charles "Charlie" Spring & Sahar Zahid Additional Tags: Inspired by Bridgerton (TV), Alternate Universe - Regency, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Nicholas "Nick" Nelson, Omega Charles "Charlie" Spring (Heartstopper), Benjamin "Ben" Hope Being an Asshole, human Nellie Nelson, Human Henry Nelson, Minor Character Death, Jane Spring is a bad mother, James McEwan needs a hug, Minor Elle Argent/Tao Xu, Minor Tara Jones/Darcy Olsson, Darcy's mom is not important to the story, AU- European nobility, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Nick and Darcy are cousins, Happy Ending, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Romantic Fluff, Only a little smut, Yes Coach Singh is the Queen because it makes sense, Dead Parent Stephane Nelson, Attempted Rape/Non-Con read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/yrkHjbU

[nicklloydnow]

Illustration by Carlo Giamberresi (from The New Statesman, 12 August 2023)

“War is all: the ontology of Blood Meridian

Donoghue perceptively argues that the dramatic potency of Blood Meridian emerges from a form of metaphysical undifferentiation. The idea is that the presentation of objects, cartography and the material world within the novel are foregrounded, whereas character, psychological agency, moral reflection and plot are secondary, derived from the novel's portrayal of the violence of nature itself. There is an unnerving equality to how all objects and items in the novel are posed. Things — human, plant, animal, meteor and architecture — all blend, remaining unindividuated within McCarthy's 'Optical democracy', where that terrain of all phenomena were bequeathed a strange equality and no one thing nor spider not stone nor blade of grass could put forth claim to precedence |...] and a man and rock become endowed with unguessed kinships'. As Donoghue remarks, Blood Meridian has all objects, action and events correspond to McCarthy's neuter austerity. Consequently, McCarthy does not permit the reader to adjudicate on the moral status of any deed carried out by the characters. Any moral force or reckoning is co-opted through the novel's portrayal of existence itself. If all things are presented equally, then all things are good and bad indifferently. This formal style generates the novel's sharply stifling and oppressive atmosphere, one befitting the uncertainties of Judge Holden's moral relativism, where all acts are equally good and bad. The Judge's pernicious influence looms so large over the novel that he stifles all possible forms of alternative or exit, making character and reader interdependent on the Judge's noxious paradigm. This is particularly the case with the kid.

It is philosophically necessary that the kid is inextricably and metaphysically entwined with Judge Holden. That the kid develops under Judge Holden's perverse tutelage is dramatically necessary to allow the novel to scrutinise the scope through which one might transcend and liberate oneself from a needlessly cruel cosmos. Even if one inhabits the worst possible world, under the most domineering, dysfunctional and abusive pressures, Blood Meridian can provide some mitigated therapy. The kid's character brings some succour given his persistent desire to extract himself from his quandary as the novel progresses. Furthermore, the function of the dialectical interdependence of Judge Holden and the kid serves to illustrate McCarthy's rejection of simplistic moral binaries. Their symbiotic relationship also undermines a host of other simple dichotomies. As well as good and evil, Blood Meridian's optical democracy and neuter austerity undermines any separation of matter and spirit, subject and object, self and other, or civilisation and nature. We find a particularly pointed example of McCarthy's rejection of Manichean thinking in his depiction of the wanton violence in the overrunning of a precarious settlement:

. . . all the horsemen's faces gaudy and grotesque with daubings like a company of mounted clowns, death hilarious, all howling in a barbarous tongue and riding down upon them like a horde from a hell more horrible yet than the brimstone land of christian reckoning, screeching and yammering and clothed in smoke like those vaporous beings in regions beyond right knowing where the eye wanders and the lips jerks and drools. Oh my god, said the sergeant.

Here, irresistible violence swamps any markings of differentiation and civility. In this scene, the opposition of nature and civilisation is overswept by an indistinct force.

As Harold Bloom suggests, the 'violence is the book'. This is a world without purpose, hope and redemption. The abyssal desert, scant vegetation backdropping the orgiastic violence, confines the reader to a claustrophobic and entangled mesh. However, the force of McCarthy's ontological 'democracy' makes it impossible for the kid to liberate himself. As opposed to a world where we may be saved through divine foundation, the metaphysics of Blood Meridian definitively suggests there is no underlying order or pattern to come to the rescue. The cruellest acts exist on the same plane as kindness, innocence and virtue, in the same sense that the kid's more redemptive traits are entwined with his own and the Judge's monstrosity:

If much in the world were mystery the limits of that world were not, for it was without measure or bound and there were contained within it creatures more horrible yet and men of other colors and beings which no man has looked upon and yet not alien none of it more than were their own hearts alien in them, whatever wilderness contained there and whatever beasts.

McCarthy defines alienation and alienated life as the norm rather than the exception. Even more, beyond the limits of our world, there are infinitely new monstrosities awaiting.

Blood Meridian's lyrical hellscape demands of the reader violent passage through the worst excesses of war and violence. In a departure from the tragic tradition, there is no guarantee of any cathartic purification by the novel's denouement. Any possible connection to the glory and nobility of the epic is prohibited. The existential test the novel inflicts on the reader is whether they should acquiesce to the bloody and implacable logic of Holden's worldview, or construct alternatives to the worst iterations of life beyond good and evil. The novel uses the kid to place the reader in a position of moral compromise. The kid provides the novel's only sustained form of resistance to Holden. Despite Blood Meridian's inexorable amorality, it is too simplistic to suggest that McCarthy is therefore endorsing either amorality or its inevitability. More accurately, McCarthy is examining how humans cope and struggle in a nihilistic world. Blood Meridian is a type of anti-Bible, effectively offering a version of David and Goliath. On the one hand we have the Goliath of Judge Holden's nihilism and on the other, we witness the kid's struggle to disentangle himself from Holden's dominion. Although complicit in the senseless scalping and murderous violence which the Glanton Gang inflict on Native Americans and Mexicans, we find in the kid a soul at stake, a David who faces down and attempts to extricate himself from the behemothic and toxic influence of Judge Holden.

As readers we are consigned to this metaphysical nightmare, inseparable from the wilderness forces that propel us. Blood Meridian's weird metaphysics acknowledges that estranged inhumanity is still humanity. This estrangement is not absolutely determined, however: the kid's character, though incompletely and unsuccessfully, attempts to deviate from Holden's predetermining metaphysics. And as I will proceed to argue, this shows how McCarthy, through the kid, provides a more constructive Nietzscheanism.” - Patrick O'Connor, ‘Cormac McCarthy, Philosophy and the Physics of the Damned’ (2021) [p. 63 - 66]

[readerofoddities]

It's time to ramble about Felli. I love Felli so much, they're so fun to write about

Warning: Felli's story deals with a lot of talk of death and murder. I know CotL has a lot of that kind of stuff, but I thought I'd warn you guys anyways

As if they were in-game info

*cannot be brought back if Narinder is not present in the cult. If he has died, you will need to resurrect him if you want to get Felli

*has 2 unique dialogues based on if the Lamb is married to Narinder before or after Felli arrives

*will refuse to marry the Lamb

*can diffuse fights between cultists on their own

*can't be sacrificed to bring back Aym or Baal. Has a unique dialogue if Aym and Baal are present in the cult

*has a unique dialogue if given a holden Skull necklace

*has a very long 8-part quest that gives the Lamb a lot of fun items. It ends with Felli permanently leaving the cult and joining Ratau as a new Knucklebones player

*The items from their quest are "The High Priest's Blade" which will appear as a weapon on crusades, "Master’s Letter" which is considered lore (the Lamb has the option to read it or not upon finding it), "The High Priest's Diary" which doesn't do anything special, and "Weird Debris/Master’s Gift" which also does nothing.

Now for some story stuff.

Felli was basically like a parent to the younger High Priests. They were especially close to Lori and were basically besties with Lori.

They were often lavished with many gifts even after becoming the High Priest of Death. They will bring these gifts back to Narinder after being brought back from the dead

Upon being captured by Shamura, they were hidden in a prison in Shamura’s temple. Narinder started rampaging when he found out Felli was captured and this made Shamura nervous that Narinder might kill some of their flock. As a result, they ordered Lori to kill Felli.

Felli, in the cult, is someone I think would be an older sibling/friendly rival for the Lamb and would be like a second child to Ratau upon joining the Knucklebones players

I'm not done with their story but GOD do I love it

[childofchrist1983]

Him, being delivered by the determinate counsel and foreknowledge of God, ye have taken, and by wicked hands have crucified and slain: Whom God hath raised up, having loosed the pains of death: because it was not possible that he should be holden of it. - Acts 2:23-24 KJV

Here we see perhaps the greatest Biblical example of how God's will and mankind's will relate. God chose from all eternity to send His only begotten Son, Jesus Christ, to die for sinners and secure for His people an everlasting, eternal salvation. But the men who crucified Jesus, or who betrayed Him and handed Him over to be crucified, did so wickedly and of their own free will.

God is fully able to rule over us and over all history without making men "robots" or "puppets on His strings". And in fact, He does so rule. Let us never think that God's providence ruling over all somehow excuses us of our sins. We know that we are guilty when we sin, for that is the overflow of sinfulness in our hearts and minds. But let us also never doubt Him or His sovereign rule and almighty power. For He is the Almighty, whose will cannot be thwarted and defeated by Satan nor by mere mortals.

Everyday, we must thank Him for the grace that He poured out for us on the cross. He has freed us from the burdens of sin and guilt. May He help us to always walk in His grace and Holy Spirit, not by our own measure. May He give us the humble humility to know that our freedom and eternal salvation is found only in Him, so that His grace may sustain us, and we may never lose sight of His love and light and mercy. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for calling us to Him and to serve Him. May He equip us to do all that He has called us to do so that as He works through us, He may use us to produce fruit, to reach others, and to encourage all brothers and sisters in Christ. May He work all of these things in us and through us for His Kingdom and His glory. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all His creation, for His miraculous ways and for everything He does and has done for us! Keep the faith and keep moving forward in your walk with Jesus!

Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Word and for sending His Holy Spirit so that we might have His grace, not only to awaken us and transform our hearts in our spiritual rebirth and guarantee our eternity with Him, but to also call upon Him whenever we are in need. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all the reminders of His love and mercy and faithfulness within His Holy Word. He is bigger than any challenge or circumstance in our lives. Knowing this within our minds and our hearts, nothing can deter our faith in Him and His Truth. May we all accept Him and His eternal gift of salvation and ask that He would transform our hearts and lives according to His will and ways. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Spirit who saves, seals and leads us. May we always thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His almighty power and saving grace. For He is our strength, and He alone is able to save us, forgive our sins and gift us eternal salvation and entry into His Kingdom of Heaven.

May we make sure that we give our hearts and lives to God and take time to seek and praise Him and share His Truth with the world daily. May the LORD our God and Father in Heaven help us to stay diligent and obedient and help us to guard our hearts in Him and His Holy Word daily. May He help us to remain faithful and full of excitement to do our duty to Him and for His glorious return and our reunion in Heaven as well as all that awaits us there. May we never forget to thank the LORD our God and our Creator and Father in Heaven for all this and everything He does and has done for us! May we never forget who He is, nor forget who we are in Christ and that God is always with us! What a mighty God we serve! What a Savior this is! What a wonderful Lord, God, Savior and King we have in Jesus Christ! What a loving Father we have found in Almighty God! What a wonderful God we serve! His will be done!

Thanks and glory be to God! Blessed be the name of the LORD! Hallelujah and Amen!

[scotianostra]

On November 16th 1700 James Macpherson, the famous fiddling freebooter, was hanged at Banff.

Our second musician to meet his maker at the end of a rope, and like the last one, it was an unjust ent. It is also the second post where a gypsy was judicially  murdered by authorities.....

He is often called the Robin Hood of Scotland, but there is a huge difference between Jamie MacPherson and the legendary outlaw of Sherwood Forest. James MacPherson existed in reality, many of his amazing adventures were real, and he really was hanged, in Banff on  this day in 1700. He was just 25 years old.

As with Hood, the legend of Jamie MacPherson survives and grows to this day, his story much embellished over the centuries, so if you have heard the story before, and it’s a wee bit different it’s a bit like Chinese whispers, it’d what happens when stories are passed on by word of mouth over time.

Anyway who better yo endorse the story than our national bard, as this  tale does,have the testimony and approval of none other than Robert Burns. The involvement of our national Bard comes from the fact that more than 80 years after MacPherson’s execution, Burns rewrote the words of the song MacPherson’s Rant, supposedly written by the outlaw himself, that first appeared in print a year after Jamie was put to death for the crime of being ... a Gypsy. That’s right – in Scotland at that time, you could be hanged just for being of the Roma race. Thankfully, we have moved on.

With rather more delicate lyrics than the original, Burns called the song MacPherson’s Farewell, and it has been a standard of the folk canon for more than 200 years, the most famous version coming from the folk duo, The Corries.

Yet it only tells a part of the extraordinary story of Jamie MacPherson, the Highland Freebooter, an outlaw, swordsman of great repute, a musician of note, and composer of the tune that bears his name. When delving into the story of MacPherson, it is often very difficult to distinguish between fact and fantasy, and yet again Sir Walter Scott pops up, cited as an authority on the story of MacPherson, except that Scott muddled things up and didn’t even get his place of execution correct, stating it was Inverness rather than Banff, but never let facts get in the way of a great story.

It was most certainly in the latter that MacPherson was hanged, and the final part of the proceedings of his trial is still extant. Sadly for MacPherson, the hereditary Sheriff of Banff, one Nicholas Dunbar, was determined to hang him, and pronounced this sentence for doom.

“Forasmeikle as you James McPherson, pannal (the accused) are found guilty by ane verdict of ane assyse, to be knoun, holden, and repute to be Egiptian (Gypsy) and a wagabond, and oppressor of his Magesties free lieges in ane bangstrie manner, and going up and down the country armed, and keeping mercats in ane hostile manner, and that you are a thief, and that you are of pessimae famae (worst repute).

“Therfor, the Sheriff-depute of Banff, and I in his name, adjudges and discernes you the said James McPherson to be taken to the Cross of Banff, from the tolbooth thereof, where you now lye, and there upon ane gibbet to be erected, to be hanged by the neck to the death by the hand of the common executioner, upon Friday next, being the 16th day of November instant, being a public weekly mercat day, betwixt the hours of two and three in the afternoon.”

As William Chambers wrote about MacPherson 170 years later in his Journal, volume 50: “In these old times, the Scottish local authorities went to work in a very peremptory way when they chanced to catch a band of marauders. The whole were summarily tried, hanged and done with.”

So  wat did MacPherson do to earn such a fate? He was born in 1675, the illegitimate son of a laird, MacPherson of Invereshie, and a beautiful Gypsy woman. His father acknowledged his bastard son, and Jamie lived at Invereshie in Inverness-shire until his father died, reportedly killed by cattle thieves. Jamie was taken into the care of his mother’s people.

Growing up tall, strong and handsome, somewhere along the way he acquired great skill as a swordsman and a fiddler – his fiddle and a replica of his sword can be seen in the Clan MacPherson Museum in Newtonmore. (as seen in the pics)

As a naturally charismatic figure he soon became leader of his own band of Gypsies. When working as tinkers, they were well liked by the common people of the north and north-east of Scotland, but MacPherson wanted greater wealth and soon turned into a “freebooter”, effectively a land-based pirate. He soon acquired the habit of annoying those in authority in various parts of the north east. He and his men were declared outlaws, not least for their habit of marching behind a piper into towns where markets were being held, there to relieve wealthy types of their cattle and other goods, though one anonymous writer claimed “no act of cruelty, or robbery of the widow, the fatherless, or the distressed was ever perpetrated under his command”. He was very similar to a Border Reiver.

Well most of this is the  romanticised stuff that’s been embellished through the years, bu, in all probability, but there is evidence that he did distribute some of his ill-gotten gains among his Gypsy folk and the poor. So that’s where the Robin Hood similarities come from.

MacPherson’s band of merry men became notorious in a whole swathe of the country from Inverness to Aberdeen, and it was in the latter city that he was first captured and imprisoned. With the help of his most loyal outlaw, Peter Broune, Jamie made a daring escape, and he would repeat that feat when captured again.

In Keith in the autumn of 1700, MacPherson would not be so lucky. The Laird of Braco, Alexander Duff, and his retainers surprised MacPherson’s small band as they attended St Rufus’ Fair, no doubt with a little larceny in mind. Instead they found themselves in a fierce hand-to-hand fight in which one of MacPherson’s men was killed and he himself was captured after a woman threw a blanket on top of him from the upper window of a house.

Firmly imprisoned in Banff, MacPherson was tried on  November 8th for the capital crime of being an “Egyptian”. Never mind the fact that his father was a Scottish laird, MacPherson was doomed from the outset, and Sheriff Dunbar gave him the unwanted title of being the last man in Scotland to be condemned to die by a judge who gained his office by Heritable Jurisdiction. In the week before his execution, MacPherson composed his Rant to a tune that he apparently devised himself though it is similar to an old folk tune that was heard in Moray and Aberdeenshire.

It is unlikely that, as legend has it, MacPherson actually played his song underneath his gallows, though a version which states that he broke his fiddle so that no-one else would ever play it has more truth. There is also no written evidence for the story that he was hanged ahead of the set time because Duff of Braco found out a pardon was being hurried to Banff. The town clock was allegedly set 15 minutes fast and so MacPherson really was hanged before his time. His song was written down within a year, and became popular with the ordinary people of Scotland who took to the story of the man who danced and played his fiddle in the face of death at the hands of unpopular authority.

After Burns made his improvements to the song, and Walter Scott wrote his version, MacPherson’s fame spread internationally. None other than Dmitri Shostakovich was inspired by MacPherson’s Farewell, one of the two Burns’ settings in his 1943 work Six Romances for Bass, otherwise known as Six Romances to Verses by English (sic) Poets. The other is ‘O wert thou in the cauld blast’.

For those that don’t know, after the Russian Revolution in 1917, Burns became known as the people's poet, as his class-aware poems about less-heroic and labouring class subjects strongly resonated with the Soviet regime. Throughout the Soviet years his poems sold millions of copies his songs were regularly heard on radio, TV and in famous films, hence  Shostakovich ‘s admiration of our Ploughman poet.

The most famous version of the Rant is still that written by Burns, and the one  below in the version sung by The Corries. There were other verses, either from oral tradition or written down, which tell the fuller story.

“It’s little did me mither know, When first she cradled me, That I would become a rovin’ boy, And die on the gallows tree.

“There’s some come here to see me hang, And some to steal my fiddle, But before that I do part with her, I’ll break her through the middle.

“He’s ta’en his fiddle into both his hands, And breaked her on his knee, Said when I am gane no ither hands, Shall ever play on thee.

“The reprieve was comin’ ower the Brig o Banff tae set MacPherson free, But they pit the clock a quarter afore, and they hanged him frae the tree.”

Fareweel ye dungeons dark and strang

The wretch’s destiny,

MacPherson’s time will no be lang

On yonder gallows tree.

Chorus – Sae rantingly, sae wantonly,

An’ sae dauntingly gaed he.

He played a tune and he danced a-roon,

Below the gallows tree.

It was by a woman’s treacherous hand that I was condemned tae dee

She stood abune a windae ledge and a blanket threw ower me

(chorus)

Oh what is death, but parting breath,

On many’s the bloody plain,

I’ve dur’d his face, and in this place

I scorn him yet again!

(chorus)

I’ve liv’d a life of sturt and strife;

I die by treachery,

It burns my heart I must depart,

An’no’ avenged be.

(chorus)

So tak off these bands fae roon’ my hands,

And gie to me my sword;

And there’s no a man in all Scotland,

But I’ll brave him at a word.

(chorus)

So farewell night, thou parting light,

An’ a’ beneath the sky!

May coward shame, disdain his name,

The wretch that dur’na die!

Sae rantingly, sae wantonly,

An’ sae dauntingly gaed he.

He played a tune and he danced a-roon,

Below the gallows tree.

A final note, based on the fact that in the town of Macduff, where MacPherson was well liked and had the protection of the local laird, there stands Doune parish church which has a clock tower with only has three faces. The side that looks across the Bay to Banff is blank, as seen in the last pic.

Local lore has it that the people of Macduff wouldn’t give the time of day to the folk of Banff, but another version is that the tower was made that way as a gesture of disapproval to Banff for hanging “their” Jamie MacPherson. Even three centuries after his death, MacPherson is still the stuff of legend.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Evening Thoughts with Octavius Winslow

Devotional Reading for Eventide, 21st March, 2023

Knowing that Christ being raised from the dead dies no more; death has no more dominion over him. - Romans 6:9

The resurrection of Christ was the consummation of His glorious victory. Until this moment, the Redeemer had all the appearance of one vanquished in the great fight. He was left slain upon the battle-field. Indeed it would appear that He had really endured a momentary defeat. He was now under the dominion of death; and as death was the consequence and penalty of sin, so long as He was subject to its power, He still lay beneath the sins of His people. Cancelled although they were by the blood He had just shed, the great evidence of their remission did not and could not transpire until the resurrection had passed. What gloom now enshrouded the church of God! The Sun of Righteousness was setting in darkness and in blood; and with it was descending into the tomb, the hopes of patriarchs and prophets, of seers and apostles. The "king of terrors" had laid low his illustrious victim; and the cold earth had closed upon His sacred body, mangled and lifeless. Oh, what a victory did hell and sin, death and the grave, now seem to have achieved! But the "triumphing of the wicked is short." In three days the tomb, at the mighty fiat of Jehovah, unveiled its bosom, and yielded back its Creator and Lord. The Sun of Righteousness ascended again in cloudless glory and peerless majesty, to set no more forever. The church of God, now "begotten again unto a lively hope by the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead," arose from the dust, and put on her beautiful garments. Now was the scene changed. His enemies, no longer wearing even the semblance of victory, were overthrown and vanquished. Hell was disappointed, and its gates forever closed against the redeemed. Sin was thrown to an infinite distance, and "death had no more dominion over him, God having loosed its pains, because it was not possible that He should be holden of it." He rose a mighty and an illustrious Conqueror. And all this conquest, let it not be forgotten, was achieved in behalf of a chosen and a beloved people. It was our battle that He fought, it was our victory that He won. Therefore, called though we are to "wrestle against principalities and against powers," and exhorted though we are to "take unto us the whole armor of God," we are yet confronted with enemies already vanquished. It would seem as though we were summoned, not so much to go out upon the field of battle, as upon the field of conquest; not so much to combat with the foe, as to gather up the spoils of victory. For what is every successful conflict with our spiritual adversaries-what is every corruption mortified-what is every temptation resisted-what is every sin overcome-but a showing forth the great victory already won by the Captain of our salvation? Every triumph of the Holy Spirit in the heart of a regenerate man is a display of the triumph of Him who, in hanging on the cross, and in rising from the grave, "spoiled principalities and powers, and made a show of them openly, triumphing over them in it."

[liber---monstrorum]

A Review of Briardark by S.A. Harian.

SUMMARY

For Dr. Siena Dupont and her ambitious team, the Alpenglow glacier expedition is a career-defining opportunity. But thirty miles into the desolate Deadswitch Wilderness, they discover a missing hiker dangling from a tree, and their satellite phone fails to call out. Then the body vanishes without a trace. The disappearance isn’t the only chilling anomaly. Siena’s map no longer aligns with the trail. The glacier they were supposed to study has inexplicably melted. Strange foliage overruns the mountainside, and a tunnel within a tree hollow lures Siena to a hidden cabin, and a stranger with a sinister message… Holden Sharpe’s IT job offers little distraction from his wasted potential until he stumbles upon a decommissioned hard drive and an old audio file. Trapped on a mountain, Dr. Siena Dupont recounts an expedition in chaos and the bloody death of a colleague. Entranced by the mystery, Holden searches for answers to Siena’s fate. But he is unprepared for the truth that will draw him to the outskirts of Deadswitch Wilderness—a place teeming with unfathomable nightmares and impossibilities. (source)

Official content warnings: Gore, character death, terror, language, existential dread, mental illness, emotional abuse; more content warnings listed on Storygraph

REVIEW (disclaimer: I recieved a digital review copy of Briardark through Netgalley in exchange for a review.) Whatever I expected from Briardark, it wasn't this.

To tell the truth, I went in not knowing what to expect; the publishers introduce it as "perfect for fans of LOST and House of Leaves," two properties which I haven't yet touched (I know, I know, HoL is on my TBR this year). Based on my scant knowledge of these properties I assumed that meant people would be lost in a weird place.

In Briardark, people sure are lost in a weird place, but it gets so much wilder and bizarre than I could have ever dreamed of. Typically when a book is shilled as a horror thriller, it's just a horror book with a bit of thriller or a thriller book lumped into the horror category because it's a thriller. This, however, is a true horror thriller; the twists in this book are insane, and this is from someone who usually sees "twists" coming from a million miles away. Every single one not only ramps up the tension but also does something clever to tweak an aspect of reality we thought we could trust. Harian is also very patient when it comes to the reveal. Nothing's ever rushed, and the payoff for elements introduced or revealed can take chapters, if not hundreds of pages.

It's a quick read, too, despite its length (350+ pages, 10+ hour audiobook!). The pacing is excellent, knowing when to slow and take in the view and when to hurtle forward over the edge. Several times while reading, I would go to update my reading progress and realize that I'd only read five pages, but with all that had happened I'd expected 20+. In Briardark, stuff just keeps happening and doesn't stop.

THE PEOPLE While the blurb implies that there will only be two POVs, Briardark actually gives every character in Seina's team a POV. Siena and Holden are the main characters, yes, and most of the narrative is told from their perspective, but the narrative also isn't afraid to shift over to another character when necessary--usually when folks split up (or get split up). The reader isn't being shuffled around character's heads willy-nilly.

Normally I'm not a fan of multiple POVs; for me, more than two POV characters is pushing it. Briardark, however, does a really excellent job of handling multiple POVs. It establishes the characters firmly from Siena's POV first, allowing readers to become familiar with who they are before swapping. Also (and this important), every character is both unique and enjoyable.

Out of all the cast, Cam is my favorite. She's a well written lesbian character, something I always appreciate and rarely see. She's allowed to have a close, meaningful relationship with Siena, a straight woman, without ever being attracted to her. Siena never even considers the possibility. Cam's capable, respected in her field and her colleagues, and the trauma she has from her involvement with Briardark in the past is handled really well. I know these things can seem low bar to hurdle, but I'm starved for good lesbian rep, especially in horror/thriller books. I really hope to see more from her in the second book--her plotline was, to me, one of the ones I'm most invested in.

THE PLACE The establishment of place is beautifully done. The book is set in an absolutely awe-inspiring wilderness. Despite the fact I would definitely die immediately (and not even due to anything eldritch, just from the hiking), I'd love to visit.

One of the best pieces of advice I got from my writing classes was to treat place as another character. It's just as important as the human characters in a story, if not more so; the Deadswitch Wild, Briardark, even individual rooms all have their own character. This, of course, goes double for when the wild starts to get weird and eldritch (in more ways than one).

Honestly, I'm usually not one to be pro-map in books. I think they're fine, but I usually don't use them. I think that Briardark would benefit greatly from having a map included; maybe not necessarily in the beginning, but several maps are mentioned over the course of the book, and I was just dying for them to be included as an illustration or in the back. I read an advanced digital reader's copy through Netgalley, so they may be included in the final product. If not, I really hope the second book comes with a map or gets map illustrations. The textual description of them was well-done, of course, making them not strictly necessary, but they'd be cool.

That said, a lot of what is set up in this first book lore-wise recieves no payoff. It's the first book in a series (thank God), so having to wait for reveals is to be expected, but it's going to be hard to wait. Luckily, the second book, Waywarden, comes out in 2024. I can't wait to return to the Briardark in a year.

FINAL THOUGHTS I can't say if the comparison to LOST or House of Leaves is accurate. What I can say is that if you enjoyed titles like The Dark Between the Trees or short stories like "A Tale of the Ragged Mountains" and "A Psychological Shipwreck" you'll love Briardark even more. It's weird, tense, and has some fantastic characters I can't wait to read more about.

Briardark released 16 January 2023. If you're interested in the book, check out the official website (https://briardark.com/), request the book from your local library, or buy yourself a copy!

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

Annika Rose by Cheri Johnson

This is a book that has mixed reviews. Some are glowing and others much less so. The prose is well done and the dialogue easy to follow.  I began reading and two young women meet on a country road. One lives with her father and is out for a walk and the other has just moved into the cabin next door. They talk, tour the cabin, and Annika worries but admires Tina while thinking about drawings she has made. I was underwhelmed so read the end, as I sometimes do, to see if I wanted to continue reading based on the conclusion of the story. I wasn’t sure but still uncommitted so went to the middle and read a bit more here and there and found that there were characters that seemed charming in spots while also feeling rather dangerous. There was a dark vibe throughout and a feeling that left me thinking that this is probably a book for someone younger than I am who might be drawn in and be able to make more sense of it. So, did I read the entire book word for word? No Will I return to it? Probably not because I could not relate to the characters and their story did not draw me in. Would I read this author again? It would depend on the synopsis and if it was of interest.

I would like to thank NetGalley and Red Hen Press for the ARC – This is my honest review

2-3 Stars

BLURB

Ancient and contemporary myths—including both Ovid’s Metamorphoses and Ira Levin’s Rosemary’s Baby—overlay a coming-of-age story set in remote northern Minnesota. Seventeen-year-old Annika Rose and her father Wes have spent the years since the death of Annika’s mother in self-imposed social isolation on their farm on the edge of the woods. When a young woman named Tina moves into a house down the road, the result is a sudden explosion of feelings in both father and daughter and a fierce rivalry. At stake in the competition is not only their relationship, but the life of the vulnerable young woman at the center of it all. Advance Praise: “Part coming-of-age story, part ode to the landscape of northern Minnesota, this is also a horror story that reflects the larger horror of adolescence, of a girl’s fight for integrity in the face of demolished innocence. How could we forget Annika after we meet her? Her character is seared upon my brain. She is reminiscent of other stubborn, opinionated characters who struggle in the limbo between childhood and adulthood: Huckleberry Finn, Laura Ingalls, and Scout Finch.”—Amanda Coplin, author of The Orchardist “Cheri Johnson’s novel Annika Rose is a marvel of invention whose always knowing prose, alternately heartbreaking and hilarious, simultaneously glimmers and cuts. A magician with character, Johnson’s most artful alchemy comes in her protagonist Annika, who, if there is a meritocracy, will become as memorable a first name in literature as Holden or Huckleberry as teenagers choked and befuddled by angst, adventure, and an ever-encroaching and frightening very real world. Annika—an eighteen-year-old post-modern Laura Ingalls inhabiting a little trailer on the prairie—is a breathing contradiction, both an old soul and a doe-innocent naif. Yet her battle—to speak when uncomfortable truths finally outweigh convenient myths—is as ageless as both life and death.”—Neal Karlen, author of This Thing Called Life: Prince’s Odyssey On + Off the Record "Annika Rose is a coming-of-age story unlike any you’ve ever read. This novel peels back the skin of the genre’s tropes to reveal all of the sticky weirdness that exists beneath. Annika Rose’s narrative is a journey into deep psychic wildness where love, desire, envy, power, and violence collapse into one another. We open with what presents initially as a love triangle, but quickly reveals itself to be the face of a much more complex and multidimensional geometry of desire. The setting, at the edge of farm country in the age of supermarkets, is more than a backdrop. The creatures and hazards of the deep woods the characters still roam serve as an insistent reminder of the feral impulses powering our rational minds. Annika Rose is also a page-turner and compulsively readable, its sentences at turns as restrained and untamed as the country it describes." —Melanie Conroy-Goldman, author of The Likely World