#Virginia Water Village

[afterdinner-speakers]

If you are looking for a house for sale Virginia Water, here is a handy guide for you.

Nestled within the lush landscapes of Surrey, England, Virginia Water beckons with its timeless charm and captivating elegance. This picturesque town, renowned for its serene lakes and stately properties, has established itself as a coveted residential haven, attracting discerning buyers from both near and far. In this article, we embark on a journey to uncover the captivating allure of Virginia Water houses while exploring the factors that contribute to its prestigious reputation in the ever-evolving real estate market.

A Captivating Dwelling Amidst Natural Splendour

At the heart of Virginia Water's allure lies an enchanting collection of houses that effortlessly blend sophistication with the wonders of nature. From opulent Georgian-style mansions that exude grandeur to charming cottages nestled amidst the verdant woods, the architecture pays homage to the town's rich heritage while seamlessly offering contemporary luxury and comfort. These remarkable residences cater to the diverse tastes and preferences of potential buyers, ensuring a perfect fit for every individual in this mesmerising locale.

The Iconic Virginia Water Lake: A Majestic Backdrop

Any discussion of Virginia Water would be incomplete without acknowledging its crowning jewel - the Virginia Water Lake. Spanning across 150 acres, this shimmering lake serves as a majestic backdrop to many properties in the vicinity. The picturesque beauty of the lake, accentuated by ornamental cascades and embraced by lush woodlands, creates an idyllic setting for homeowners to immerse themselves in the embrace of nature. Numerous houses for sale in Virginia Water offer stunning views of the lake, granting an unparalleled sense of tranquility.

Prestige Meets Convenience: A Commuter's Paradise

One of the key factors that contribute to the desirability of Virginia Water houses is the harmonious fusion of prestige and convenience. While the town exudes an aura of exclusivity, it remains remarkably accessible to major urban centres. London, a global financial hub, is within easy reach, making Virginia Water an irresistible choice for professionals seeking an oasis of calm away from the city's hustle and bustle. Excellent transport links ensure a seamless commute to the capital, allowing residents to relish both suburban serenity and urban opportunities.

A Flourishing Community and Lifestyle

Beyond its natural splendour and proximity to London, Virginia Water boasts a thriving community with a plethora of amenities and activities tailored to residents of all ages. The area boasts several prestigious schools, offering exceptional educational opportunities for families. For leisure and recreation, residents can explore the sprawling landscapes of Windsor Great Park, engage in a round of golf at the renowned Wentworth Club, or indulge in shopping and dining experiences in neighbouring towns.

Navigating the Virginia Water Real Estate Market

As the demand for Virginia Water houses continues to soar, successfully navigating the real estate market demands expert guidance. Experienced estate agents well-versed in the local area can offer invaluable insights into the array of property options available, ensuring buyers discover their dream abode that resonates with their lifestyle and budget. By collaborating with professionals familiar with the nuances of the Virginia Water market, home seekers can streamline their property search and secure their envisioned residence with confidence.

In Conclusion: Embrace the Enchantment of Virginia Water Houses

Virginia Water stands as a testament to enduring elegance and natural allure, establishing itself as a sought-after destination for those in search of a prestigious residential sanctuary. With its captivating residences, enchanting lakeside vistas, and convenient access to London, Virginia Water offers a lifestyle that seamlessly merges luxury with tranquility. As you embark on your quest to find the perfect home, allow the enchantment of Virginia Water to guide you towards a residence that promises a life of serenity and splendour.

[aloysiavirgata]

Your own take to the old "ust but they got married for convenience" prompt please. Thank you☺️.

Virginia Is For Lovers, the slogan claimed, but she knew it was for straight married people of the same race. Ideally white. Ideally Protestant.

Ideally fertile.

***

“It doesn’t have to change anything,” she murmurs. “It’s just a Potemkin Village for the court.” Her eyes are big and hot and searching and desperate. Her eyes are the color of Lake Tashmoo in high summer. He lost a little girl once, Scully lost a sister. There mustn’t be any more.

“Okay,” he says, and does not touch her. “Whatever you need,” he says and does not say, “Love is as strong as death. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame. Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot sweep it away.”

***

Her eyes as hot as the burning skin of her daughter in Mulder’s arms.

His daughter, he knows in his secret heart. He loves Scully, loves Emily, like carbon loves hydrogen. Like oxygen loves silicon. Like the ocean loves the moon.

“Mulder,” she says, with her raw honesty. With her raw beauty. With her raw love. Her daughter, pale and aflame and doomed. The only thing she wants and so, vicariously, does he. He would burn himself to keep them warm, their blue eyes like binary stars.

“Marry me,” he says, his lips tremulous and tender. His Jewish lips lips in Good Christian Alexandria, Virginia. He wants to suck at her mouth like a bruised June peach. He wants his head between her pale, firm thighs.

But he dips his well-bred head, hands her his mother’s 3.25 carat brilliant-cut diamond. It’s flawless and beautiful and absolutely obnoxious.

Scully looks at him, broken and vulnerable. Scully looks at him like she wants to die for him, wants to fuck him, wants him to sneak Emily’s tooth from under a pillow into his hot, lonely, gingerbread palm.

Time stretches like it does in the cold void of space. At the top of Everest, at the edge of a black hole.

“Yes,” she says, into the sweet, infinite dark.

[whencyclopedia]

George Washington

George Washington (1732-1799) was an American military officer and statesman who led the Continental Army to victory during the American Revolutionary War (1775-1783) and served as the first President of the United States (1789-1797). Often regarded as the ‘Father of His Country’, Washington remains one of the most revered and iconic figures in U.S. history.

Early Life

George Washington was born at 10 am on 22 February 1732 at Pope’s Creek plantation in Westmoreland County, Virginia. He was the first of six children born to Augustine Washington, a wealthy Virginian landowner, and his second wife Mary Ball Washington; George also had four older half-siblings from his father’s first marriage. Little is known about George’s childhood. His early years were mostly spent on the family property of Ferry Farm on the Rappahannock River, and he likely attended school in Fredericksburg, Virginia, where he excelled in the subjects of geometry, trigonometry, and mapmaking. When his father suddenly died in 1743, 11-year-old George inherited Ferry Farm as well as ten enslaved people. Too young to fend for himself, he went to live with his eldest half-brother, Lawrence Washington (b.1718), at Mount Vernon. George idolized Lawrence, who he came to regard as both a father figure and a best friend.

George’s aptitude for mathematics led him to consider a career as a land surveyor, a respectable path to wealth and social advancement. In 1748, at the age of 16, he embarked on his first expedition into the Shenandoah Valley to survey the property of his influential neighbor, Thomas Fairfax. The next year, he earned his surveyor’s license and, through Fairfax’s patronage, was appointed surveyor for Culpeper County. Over the next three years, Washington completed 200 surveying expeditions and measured a total of 60,000 acres along Virginia’s western frontier. But just as George's career was taking off, Lawrence came down with tuberculosis. In November 1751, he went to the Caribbean island of Barbados in the hopes that the tropical air would improve his condition. George accompanied him, and contracted a painful case of smallpox during his brief stay on the island. George soon recovered but Lawrence was not so lucky, as he died shortly after returning to Virginia in 1752. After his brother's death, George started leasing Mount Vernon from Lawrence’s widow and became the legal owner of the property after her own death in 1761.

In 1753, George Washington reached the age of maturity, and was eager to find a way to make a name for himself. He would soon have an opportunity. The French had begun to construct forts on the forks of the Ohio River, fertile territory that had been claimed by Virginia. In November, Washington was sent as an envoy to demand that the French vacate the Ohio Country at once. On his journey into the west, he was joined by Christopher Gist, an experienced frontiersman and guide, and Tanacharison, a Mingo chieftain called the ‘Half-King’ by Virginians. It was Tanacharison who gave Washington the Seneca name of ‘Conotocaurius’ or ‘Devourer of Villages’, in reference to Washington’s great-grandfather, who had helped expel Native Americans from their lands in Virginia. The small party reached the French Fort LeBoeuf during a snowstorm; although they were received cordially by the fort’s commander, Washington’s demands were firmly rebuffed. Washington then embarked on his trek back to Virginia which included several perilous episodes. While crossing the icy Alleghany River in a raft, Washington fell overboard, and likely would have drowned had Gist not pulled him from the water.

George Washington as a Land Surveyor

Henry Hintermeister (Public Domain)

Continue reading...

[virusinfected-memes]

TUMBLR TEXT POST SENTENCE STARTERS, PT. 2 ;

75 starters. CW: blood mention, cussing, death. Starters come from various text posts floating around Tumblr. The only thing changed for this post was adding capitalization and punctuation. Feel free to change words and pronouns as needed! [PART 1]

“Academia is cool and sexy until I’m expected to work.”

“An anime with more than a hundred episodes is a bigger commitment than marriage.”

“Anyone who believes all water tastes the same is no acquaintance of mine.”

“Anyway, that’s every reported eyewitness account of Mothman through ‘68, and that’s just in West Virginia! Haha, but enough about me. Let’s hear about your top five cryptids!”

“Aside from being the worst person alive, I am literally perfect.”

“At the end of the day, I’m just a girl who loves her bed.”

“Being equally obsessed with each other sounds hot to me.”

“Being good doesn’t get you anything.”

“Be the worst you can be.”

“But do aliens believe in me?”

“Don’t let anyone dehumanize you. Dehumanize yourself. Be the creeping eldritch horror you’ve always longed to be. Rain furious vengeance down upon those who would unmake you.”

“Do something today that would’ve gotten you burnt at the stake four hundred years ago.”

“Do you ever just want someone to come over and sit on the floor with you for a few hours?”

“Do you ever wanna listen to music, but every song is just not the right song?

“Feeling safe around someone’s energy is a different kind of intimacy.”

“Flirting is childish. We’re grown. Just tell the person you like that you see God in their eyes.”

“Friendly reminder that the age of technology is coming to an end and a new age of blood magic and dark rituals will take its place.”

“Friendship is temporary. Blood pacts are forever.”

“Girls don’t want boys. Girls want to live in a Victorian estate and be the most feared widow in the village.”

“Half of me is a hopeless romantic and the other half of me is, well, an asshole.”

“Having a body causes me so much agony. I wish I was just a floating entity with no physical form.”

“How do I overthink so much and still make the wrong decision?”

““I can fix him!” You can’t even fix your sleep schedule, bestie.”

“I don’t care if your body is a temple. Call me when it’s been closed down and taken over by Spirit Halloween.”

“I don’t know about soulmates, but those people who eat parts of the food or candy that you don’t like and you do the same for them... We’ve lived a hundred lifetimes together, probably.”

“I don’t think we can romanticize our way out of this one, boys.”

“If you see me in the streets, just know that my mind is in the void. I’m physically alive, but mentally checked out.”

“I guess we all learned a valuable lesson. Except for me. I wasn’t paying attention and was asleep for most of the time.”

“I hate when people ask what I would do in their situation because nine times out of ten, I would literally never be in that situation in the first place.”

“I hope manners is the next cool trend.”

“I just love sleep so much. Like, you just close your eyes and you’re gone, bitch. Brain logged the fuck off. Powerful.”

“I just realized there’s, like, a hundred new Pokémon coming this year, give or take, and I have to decide what personal memories and details about friends to forget in order to make room for them all.”

“I like my women like I like my woods. Haunted and could kill me at any moment.”

“I like to fuck around and waste time at least six to ten hours a day, and let me tell you, that puts some pressure on your schedule. You have no idea how busy I am.”

“I love to learn. Unfortunately, my brain doesn’t like to remember.”

“I love when I ‘make a mental note’ of something. It’s gone within twenty seconds.”

“I’m not a religious person, but I do sometimes think God made you for me.”

“I’m not playing hard to get. I genuinely don’t know how to talk.”

“I’m wearing dark glasses today because I’m seeing the future, and the future is looking very bright.”

“I think it’s so neat that everyone develops their own unique handwriting even though we’re all taught to write our letters the same way. Really, it’s so cute.”

“I think making sense is optional. Sometimes I just be talking.”

“I think the meaning of life is eating good food in the company of people you love.”

“It’s because I’m pretty, that’s why I have problems.”

“It’s crazy how I’m just some person.”

"It seems you are in love with your computer.”

“It’s not rude to interrupt someone to point out a dog. It’s actually more polite because then they don’t miss out on the dog.”

“I will never elaborate because I have no idea what I just said.”

“Live, laugh, love? Nah. Languish, lament, lay down.”

“Michael Myers taught me a valuable life lesson. Don’t worry about how fast everyone around you is moving. If you’re determined, just move at your own pace and you’ll kill shit every time. Thanks, Mike.”

“Moving to the forest to eat leaves and lie in the dirt. Insurance companies can’t deny me this.”

“Okay, bored of being alone now. Ready to get married.”

“Okay, hear me out... What if—now bear with me—we held hands? Maybe even kiss a little? Hugs would be nice—”

“People keep posting ‘what’s REALLY in your food’ articles like I’m gonna stop eating whatever it’s about. Listen, death is coming. Death is coming. Pass me a hot dog.”

“People who fall asleep right away freak me out. Don’t you bitches have thoughts?”

“Really starting to understand old people these days. I love letters. Love packages. Terrified of my email inbox.”

“Someone take me out. Either in the assassination way or in the date way.”

“Sorry for being so sexy and having the best taste in literature. As if I asked for it.”

“Sorry I called you a fucking idiot. I was trying to flirt.”

“So what if I love you? Shut up.”

“The fact that I have to be in the ‘right headspace’ to do even the simplest tasks is absolutely humiliating.”

“The only difference between me and a medieval peasant is that I can make a Spotify playlist to express my feelings.”

“The only reason I haven’t gone insane is because I romanticize everything.”

“There should be a dating app where you talk to people who borrowed the same books from the library.”

“There’s something inherently holy about kitchens.”

“Tired of being a person. Would much rather be an unidentifiable and nebulous entity that lives in the woods and may or may not be an omen of misfortune to come.”

“Wanna haunt the neighborhood with me tonight?”

“Well, I used to be attracted to people, but now I’m exclusively attracted to abstract art and the concept of death.”

“What is the logic behind naps leaving you with a weird taste in your mouth? I wasn’t eating, I was sleeping. It’s the spiders, isn’t it?”

“Winnie the Pooh didn’t rock crop tops our whole childhood to watch us become unconfident about our bodies.”

“Yes, I’m dramatic! What did you expect? I read classic literature for fun.”

“You’d look prettier under six feet of dirt.”

“You don’t always need to talk. Like, it’s good to shut the fuck up sometimes. I love not talking.”

“You gotta walk into rooms like God sent you.”

“You’re beautiful, but you’re empty. No one could die for you.”

“You wanna know what’s annoying me right now? It’s me. I am annoying the goddamn shit out of myself.”

[violethowler]

Red Rising-era Mars map version 2.0!

After looking over my Mars map some more and re-reading parts of Dark Age and Golden Son, I realized that I'd misunderstood a few things about the geography of Mars that necessitated me redoing my map from scratch. And with that new information came the knowledge that I had no way to decisively prove where one continent ended and the next began, beyond having a clear and obvious boundary between Apollonia and Cimmeria.

So without further ado, here's my updated notes on all the Martian locales in the Red Rising saga:

Continents and Seas:

Cimmeria and Sirenum: In the novels, Cimmeria is confirmed to encompass the highland region in the northern hemisphere west of the Valles Marineris. Lryia mentions the Red Hand base is located at 46 degrees, and Ephraim mentions the volunteers who come to help stomp out the Red Hand came from across northern Cimmeria, so that puts it at 46 degrees latitude. But the IRL Terra Cimmeria region that the continent is named for is located in the eastern hemisphere. In my original map, I tried to find a way to connect the two. However, Morning Star indicates that the Thermic Sea, which is along the coast of Cimmeria, is located at least partly on the planet’s equator, and given the fact that this would result in Cimmeria taking up space in the Terra Sirenum region that the Sirenian continent is named for, I thought it would be simpler (and funnier) if the Cimmerian and Sirenian continents more or less switched places with their namesakes.

Arabia Terra is a real region on Mars in the northern hemisphere, which fits with how Darrow described it as a Northern continent in Morning Star, so I just traced the boundaries.

Apollonia: The exact boundaries of Apollonia are unknown, but I figure it probably doesn't go much farther east than the western edge of Arabia Terra. Plus, Ephraim saying that Cimmeria is the richest in Helium makes me think that its larger than Apollonia. I based the boundary between Apollonia and Cimmeria on IRL tectonic maps of Mars in the area surrounding landmarks we know are part of one continent or another.

???: Since I based the borders of Sirenum on the IRL boundaries of Terra Cimmeria and the borders of Arabia Terra on its namesake, that leaves room on Mars for at least one more continent. It also fits with a throwaway line from Red Rising where Darrow mentions one of the kids chosen ahead of him in The Draft came from a family with "a stake on one of Mars's southern continents." Which implies that there's more than one continent on Mars that's predominantly located in the southern hemisphere.

Borealis Basin: The Borealis Basin IRL is a real lowland region on Mars that encompasses most of the planet’s northern hemisphere. The terraforming process just filled it with water to turn it into an ocean.

Amazonian Sea: There's a real region of the Borealis Basin named the Amazonis Planitia, a.k.a the Amazonian for short, which sits to the west of the Olympus Mons. Since Virginia travels over it while approaching Cimmeria when she flies the Iron Circle toward Agea at the end of Dark Age, the Amazonian Sea is obviously located in the same place as its namesake.

Thermic Sea: One of the few solid details on the Thermic Sea's location is that Darrow says in Morning Star that it's located in the western hemisphere of Mars along the planet's equator. In Golden Son, Darrow indicates that it’s west of Apollonia, as he passes Thessalonica on the Thermic coast while traveling north toward Agea during the Iron Rain. However, in Dark Age, Ephraim indicates that the Red Hand’s base was on the northern coast of the Thermic, and a comment from Victra indicates that the fishing village where she gave birth to Ulysses was on the east coast of Cimmeria. Darrow was heading toward The Institute in Golden Son, which he established was in the northernmost arm of the Valles Marineris, so from a tactical standpoint it makes more sense if Pierce just got the directions mixed up and Darrow was actually traveling south, especially given that Golden Son makes no mention of Darrow having to cross the main canyon in order to reach The Institute. (Plus, there were direction goofs in Red Rising where Darrow talked about the sun rising in the west at The Institute instead of east)

Gorgon Sea: Dancer mentions this sea in Golden Son as the site of a Gold vacation cruise that led to Harmony’s defection from the Sons of Ares. Location unknown, but given the presence of the Amazonian and Thermic on either side of Cimmeria, I figured it was probably located in the eastern hemisphere.

Golan Basin: Mentioned by Aja in Morning Star. Since the Borealis Basin surrounds the north pole, my assumption is that the Golan Basin is its southern equivalent, formed during the terraforming process to create the ocean that keeps the Obsidians at the south pole cut off from the rest of the planet.

Cities and Mines:

The Institute: Maps and Golden Son consistently place the Institute in the northern arm of the Valles Marineris (known IRL as Candor Chasma).

Agea: Consistently stated in multiple books to to be located inside the Valles Marineris, and Golden Son mentions that the outer walls are located 80 kilometers west of The Institute.

Nagasos Mine: First appeared in SoA Volume 3, where it was established as being located 600 kilometers south of Agea.

Corinth: Mentioned in Morning Star to be located in the middle of the Thermic Sea. Corinth is said to be directly below the orbital path of Phobos, which is almost exactly on the equator since the orbital path of the innermost moon is titled at a 1-degree angle from the equator.

Xantha Dorsa: Mention in Iron Gold as the source of Dr. Liago’s favorite green tea. Its name comes from the Xanthe Terra region located north of the Valles Marineris and west of Arabia Terra, as well as the plural form of Dorsum, the Latin word for backbone or ridge. According to Wikipedia, a ridge in geography is “a long, narrow, elevated geomorphologic landform, structural feature, or both, separated from the surrounding terrain by steep sides. The sides of a ridge slope a way from a narrow top, the crest or ridgecrest, with the terrain dropping down on either side.” Xanthe Terra has two major outflow channels that could be considered home to ridges: Nanendi Valles and Shalbatana Valles. Thus, I feel that either one of those is a likely candidate for the location of Xantha Dorsa.

Thessalonica: Repeatedly mentioned as being on the coast of the Thermic Sea. Comments from Darrow during the Iron Rain in Golden Son place Thessalonica a little over 50 kilometers from a series of subtropical highlands. Since Dark Age and the details we know about the Thermic Sea imply that the sea is actually east of Agea rather than west, this would put Thessalonica to the northeast of the capital rather than the southwest as Golden Son implies. Which would be consistent with their namesakes, as in Greece IRL, Thessaloniki is located north of the Agean Isles.

Tinos: Stated to be 500 kilometers south of the Thermic in Morning Star. No indication of which continent it's actually on, so i'm just putting it on the unnamed one just to have some things there.

Varos: Dancer mentions in Morning Star it’s half a thousand clicks away from Tinos (1000 clicks=1000 kilometers, so 1000/2= 500 km).

Attica: Initially desribed as a southern mountain city in Golden Son, later retconned to being in northern Cimmeria in Dark Age.

Caragmore: The estate where Mustang's mom died and Darrow woke up after the Lion's Rain. Golden Son establishes that Caragmore's time zone is 7 hours behind Attica's, which puts it somewhere on the coast of Sirenum.

Zephyria: Mentioned in Dark Age as the ancestral home of House Telemanus. There's a region called Zephyria Planum on Mars IRL, so I assume that that RR-era city of Zephyria is located in the same area as its namesake.

Elysium: Seat of House Arcos. Most likely located near the Elysium Mons volcano in the eastern hemisphere of Mars IRL.

Olympia: Seat of House Bellona. Dark Age places it on the northwest edge of Olympus Mons.

Phoenicia: Mentioned in Dark Age as one of the three central cities of Cimmeria. Since Virginia is able to se all 3 cities while looking out the same viewport from her shuttle during the Iron it has to be located in the northern half of the continent.

Nike: located in the northern part of Cimmeria according to Dark Age and is somewhere on the coast. Ephraim mentions it being northwest of a large shield mountain, which lines up with the Alba Mons volcano being located northeast of Olmpys Mons near the boundary between the highlands and lowlands of Mars IRL.

Acaron: Mentioned in Dark Age as being in northern Cimmeria. Named after and most likely located in the Acheron Fossae, which sits between Olmpus Mons and Alba Mons.

Lykos: Golden Son refers to Lykos as being "in the middle of the southern Martian taiga." Taiga are defined by a subarctic climate due to being in close proximity to the north pole. Light Bringer establishes that Lykos is also surrounded by highlands. Based on the IRL elevation maps of Mars, Lykos has to be in Cimmeria in the northern hemisphere.

Yorkton: Established to be "on the edge of the taiga" near Lykos. No indication of whether it's east or west of Lykos, so I just guessed.

Ishtar: "A city by the sea, not far from Yorkton" according to Red Rising. Again, no indication of whether it's east or west of Lykos, so I guessed.

Corinth: Morning Star mentions that Corinth is right in the middle of the Thermic Sea, directly beneath the orbital path of Phobos. Phobos' orbital path is at a 1 degree angle to the equator, and runs almost parallel to the Valles Marineris according to footage and gifs I've been able to find online, so I've placed Corinth accordingly.

Cyprion: a city mentioned in Morning Star as being on the Aventine Peninsula. Based on the fact that Phobos is directly over Corinth, the timing of Phobos' orbit, IRL elevation maps of Mars and how much time is indicated to pass between The Jackal testing his stolen nukes on Cyprion and Darrow's speech on Phobos, this would put the peninsula and Cyprion in southern Cimmeria along the coast of the Amazonian Sea.

New Thebes: Seat of House Fabii. Mentioned in Morning Star as being south of Cyprion.

Caseda: When talking to Cormack in Dark Age, Lyria gives Casseda as a Cimmerian mine, and says "you're southern too" implying that Casseda is in southern Cimmeria.

Lagalos: Since Cormack pegs Lyria as a Red from the mines by her accent, my assumption is that Lagalos and Casseda are both in southern Cimmeria, giving a plausible cover for her accent without revealing she's from Lagalos.

Assimilation Camp 121: located in the Boetian Plains according to Iron Gold. Named for the region of Boetia in Central Greece, which led me to assume that the plains were near the central region of Cimmeria.

Unnamed Fishing Village: Located in the north of Cimmeria along the coast. The Red Hand base is to the north, which puts it on the eastern coast since Ephraim mentions that the Obsidians pushed the Red Hand across the highlands from Olympia.

Red Hand Base: Located north of the fishing village according to Brea's mother, and Lyria's distress call puts it at 46 degrees latitude.

Hyppolite: Seat of House Julii, said to be on the shores of a sea, but not which one. Victra's dialogue in Dark Age implies that it's not in Cimmeria, and the fact that she swims toward the sun after Ulysses's funeral indicates it's on the eastern edge of whichever sea it', since Victra would be swimmer west. Lyria's mention of the city "splashing out into the emerald archipelagoes" brings to mind the green islands in the Thermic mentioned in Morning Star, i've placed it on the west coast of Arabia Terra.

Ismenia: Mentioned in Morning Star as a port city in Arabia Terra. I picked a random spot along the coast to put it.

Kato: A city that the Aja and Cassius mention at the beginning of Morning Star where Mickey was assumed to have ben killed in a missle strike. Referred to as part of the Alcidalia province, whose name is likely derrived from the Maria Acidalium Quadrangle region that encompases the easternmost part of Cimmeria and the northwest corner of Arabia Terra. The reference to the missile strike "up in Kato," implies that it's north of Attica.

Other Known Landmarks:

Pyrrian Fjords: A series of fjords in northern Cimmeria that flow east and north toward the coast.

Daedalus Mountains: Mentioned by Lyria in Dark Age. Presumably located in the southern hemisphere in or around the IRL Daedalia Planum, located south of Olympus Mons and southwest of the Valles Marineris.

The Sound: There's an unnamed body of water mentioned in Dark Age only as "The Sound" that is implied to serve as the boundary between Apollonia and Cimmeria. According to wikipedia, a sound "is a smaller body of water usually connected to a sea or an ocean. A sound may be an inlet that is deeper than a bight and wider than a fjord; or a narrow sea channel or an ocean channel between two land masses, such as a strait;" For the time being, I'm personally choosing to go with the sea/ocean channel interpretation of the term.

[roselyn-writing]

When a rose turns black Chapter 18.

A/N: Gif isn’t mine. I found it in pinterest. Also, mentions of blood, So reader discretion is advised.

“The Hand of Darkness”

A large Obsidian Castle was in the heart of Tle’ktiva. An abandoned land of Virginia. Its people abandoned due to the harsh conditions, and the shortage of water and food. Thus, They better abandon it for a better place to live.

The Obsidian castle didn’t lose its charm and beauty. Even though, It had been centuries since it had been built. It’s still the same as the people who had abandoned it. Unaffected by time or erosion.

The Castle is decorated with Obsidian from top to bottom. Silver accents on the windows and doors, giving it a touch of dark royalty. Its towering spires, adorned with intricate designs, pierce the heavens as if reaching out to the celestial objects. The castle’s stone walls are imbued with Andesine gems. Which gave a glowing effect from a distance - Making it look as if it was kissed by the eerie glow of red lights that dance like ethereal spirits.

The winds of the north howled and whispered. As if it were singing of pain and melancholy. The sands that covered the place are dark and unforgivable as if were kissed by the Virginian sun, Much for Mariuz’s taste and style.

In the Obsidian Castle, Mariuz sat on his throne. The throne room is similar to the Castle’s outer design. The walls are covered with various of red-blood gems and paintings of Mariuz. The floor is covered with red as if were a sea of blood, And the dais on Mariuz’s throne room, Is decorated with black gems and small blood-red spirals, giving it a dark royalty vibes to match the Castle’s dark aesthetic.

Maruiz was still sitting on his throne like a King. He was looking at the paintings of him. He was bored and unhappy.

Then she came, A beautiful, tall woman with long glossy black hair decorated with the finest gold hair accessories – A face that makes the hardest of men falter easily, A curvy figure makes the mouth water, She wears a dress of old Kuwaiti fashion trimmed with gold sequins in a line from top to bottom. The golden embroidery on her bodice resembled thousands of dancing fireflies. Long, graceful sleeves, Edged with frothy golden lace, Flowed like waves lapping at the shore. The neckline of her dress, just like the dress of a temptress, was adorned with the finest of gold jewellery. And finally, Paisley shawls patterns on both sides of her red dress – Just like a gracious tapestry woven with golden strings, That was made with love and passion. That dress — It exquisitely fit her smokey brown eyes. She was desire-given form.

She trekked confidently to Maruiz as she smiled widely at him. Her lips – As red as blood. The clacking of her red heels – A sensual song to the ears.

She stopped in front of him. “You called for me? Sir.” She asked seductively.

“Are you done with your ‘playing time’?” He pointed and asked. His tone is unamused.

“Yes, My lord,” She smiled innocently at him.

She blinked, For a second, She saw beautiful red houses nestled in a small village and their vibrant warm hue shimmered in the sunlight. In a place far away somewhere. For a second, she thought she recognised it – just like somewhere far in the deep recreational of her mind. She blinked once again. Then it was all gone, Just like a mirage. She is adamantly sure, She saw this place somewhere. Somehow.

Her mind is an empty canvas. Despite, The glimpses she couldn’t get the whole picture.

Maruiz's loud and piercing voice cut her unending stream of thoughts. She looked at him and smiled once again.

“I see.” He finally replied as he surveyed her to every single detail. “You are free to go,”

She grinned. Showing her pearly white teeth. “Thank you, My lord,”

And with that, She walked away, her heels clacking, their sounds fading into the distance.

Mariuz, His gaze was on the direction that she she departed from. Much to his dismay, She started to have glimpses of her past — her memories refused to fade, As her old, real self.

Maruiz cursed loudly. He didn’t care if he was heard. His plan is starting to crumble — His world is crumbling, Sooner or later, She will remember who she was. And — She will comes for blood.

The early morning sun quickly climbed in the sky. Its warm orange-yellow ray bathed the sky in golden radiance. The orange glow of the vibrant sun spread throughout the sky, quickly filling the sky and warming the early morning air.

Aliyaa groggily woke from some noises nearby. She was disoriented due to her just waking up minutes prior. She stifled a yawn, extreme grogginess and fatigue were weighing her down. She suppressed the urge to go back to sleep because she didn’t want to hear these annoying sounds again.

In the distance, An animal, perhaps a goat, bleating hauntingly, It reminded her of the horrible story she heard from her uncle a day prior. It was about a goat that had eaten its owner. Aliyaa’s body shook, Her skin crawled and she is uncomfortable. Her body trembled with fear.

She forcibly closed her eyes. Her mind, Instantly brought an image of a scary goat – blood dripped from its teeth – Its white fur drenched in blood too. Its face was an image of horror, black beady eyes devoid of emotion – razor-sharp horns ready to pierce her and kill her.

The sound of the goat's hooves hitting the ground echoed through the air, growing louder and louder with each passing moment. As Aliyaa heard it approach, her heart began to beat faster and faster, almost threatening to burst out of her chest. Her breathing quickened, coming in short gasps as she struggled to keep her composure. Despite her efforts, she felt herself becoming frozen as if she were a block of ice.

she saw the silhouette of a goat, its eyes glowing with an eerie light. Trembling with fear, she could hear its hooves scraping against the ground, creating an ominous rhythm. She quickly buried herself inside her blanket. She couldn’t bear to look at that goat – Just like it was possessed by an evil spirit. As she lay frozen in terror, the goat's haunting bleats echoed through the place, sending chills down her spine. Aliyaa couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched by something malevolent, something far more sinister than any ordinary goat. She recited every prayer she remembered. She hoped beyond hope that the goat leave her alone.

Sheer curiosity took the better of her. She peeked her head outside of the blanket. She saw a white goat. It stood 20 feet away from here. It seems young and lively, Its white fur glimmering in the early-morning sun. It has slender and delicate legs that it seemed the slightest breeze could send it flying away – small and short horns that undoubtedly would not be sharp enough to pierce through something, perhaps, Like a skin, Its eyes are a pool of glowing topaz.

Unexpectedly, Aliyaa laughed out loud. Her laughter was due to her realization that her fear of a harmless and cute animal like a goat was unnecessary and stupid. She had panicked for no reason, her fear and panic were irrational.

She took some leftovers of rice and bread. She offered it to the goat. The goat happily ate the food offered by the nice human in front of her.

She was looking at the goat while it was eating. She was smiling and happy. Admiring the cute animal while it is eating. Her attention was focused on the goat until she heard the voice of a man.

A man in his late 40s came. He has light brown eyes. A Khaki skin tone as the sand of a Virginian desert, He has a comforting feeling to him. He is handsome - A bit taller than an average male Virginian - He is standing 6 and a half feet tall. Making his height almost 190cm. He wore traditional shepherd attire. Simple brown robe and white pants.

He smiled at her. “My name is Samer and I apologise for the inconvenience.” He said sincerely. “My goat always roams away from the herd.”

Aliyaa smiled back at him. There was no harm done, The goat was peaceful and harmless, It made Aliyaa happy; having it around her. She was familiar with goats and sheeps. She always helps her father in herding them. So, she isn’t new to this whole herding thing.

“My name is Aliyaa, nice to meet you Samer and don’t worry.” She replied. Her tone is calm and soft. “There’s nothing to apologise for,”

Aliyaa’s father: Hadi Aepel, He came with his brother Massoud, In tow. They looked at the man and his goat. They didn’t look they just woke up from sleeping.

Hadi surveyed the scene in front of him with his eyes. “What’s going on here?” Hadi asked.

“Sir, I just came to return the goat.” The man answered. His tone is genuine and sincere.

Hadi nodded, His brother Massoud didn’t say anything. He just looked back and forth between his brother and the man in front of them.

The man bid them farewell and left them. His goat trotted behind him. The trio smiled as they looked at Samer and his friendly goat.

The trio, blissfully unaware that they were being watched by a dark entity — Two hands holding an onyx crystal ball, His cold, unforgiving slate-eyes gluded on it, Anzir, grinned cruelly as he saw the scene in front of his very eyes.

“Truly, Ignorance is a bliss,” He muttered to himself, Then he burst out laughing. His laughter resonated around the place. It was so loud as if it was shaking the place with its intensity.

Anzir, The current aspect of Darkness, decided spy on the trio for a little longer. He rarely shows interest in people. But unfortunately for the trio, They piqued his interest; and his attention isn’t something that one should attract. When they do, It is about to get devastating.

May the Remained-One helps whoever Anzir set his gaze on. For, No one can help them and save them for his darkness.

[archivist-crow]

On this day:

VILLAGES VANISH

On August 18, 1590, governor John White and his company, arriving in North America from England with supplies for the settlement on Roanoke Island, searched in vain for the colony of over one hundred people. Three years earlier White had left behind his wife, daughter, and son-in-law, plus his newly born granddaughter, Virginia Dare, to return to the motherland for replenishments. If the settlers had to change locations while he was gone, they were to have left an obvious sign of where they were going and put a cross beside the sign if there had been danger involved.

Unfortunately, England's war with the Spanish had delayed White's return, and now all the governor found on the island was an abandoned fortress. White discovered the settlers' heavy implements hidden by overgrown grass inside the palisade, and no sign of their boat. A large tree beside the fortress entrance had been stripped of bark and in capital letters the word Croatoan was carved. A second tree near the water carried the letters cro. White intended to check Croatoan Island, fifty miles to the south, but the weather turned bad. His company's privateer broke anchor, drifted out to sea, and forced them to go back to England. None of the 117 Roanoke Island colonists were ever seen or heard of again.

In 1930, Joe LaBelle, a French-Canadian roving trapper, went to visit his northern friends at Lake Angikuni, five hundred miles northwest of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police base at Churchill, Manitoba. LaBelle felt a growing unease as he approached the little village of caribou skin tents, and no dogs barked at his arrival. Food, clothing, kayaks, and rifles lay about as if abandoned in mid-activity. Checking the area surrounding the deserted camp, LaBelle discovered seven dogs dead from starvation, and a cairn grave, which had been neatly emptied. For reasons unknown the twenty-five inhabitants had abandoned their homes.

Text from: Almanac of the Infamous, the Incredible, and the Ignored by Juanita Rose Violins, published by Weiser Books, 2009

[handeaux]

In 1905, Cincinnati Vainly Hoped To Double Its Population In Just Five Years

Talk about optimism! In 1905, the Cincinnati Post ran a contest looking for ideas on how Cincinnati could increase its population to 600,000 in time for the 1910 census, only five years hence.

Although Cincinnati was still a growing city – no census marked a decrease in our city’s population until 1960 – any notion that the population might top half a million, much less 600,000 was beyond ambitious. It was flat-out crazy. Still, the progressive Cincinnati Post [16 November 1905] persisted, announcing monetary prizes for the best ideas on how to achieve a population explosion in a few short years.

“If someone should start a 600,000 club in Cincinnati, it would become the biggest organization in the world. This is evident in the fact that every one in Cincinnati, and nearly every one in Southern Ohio, Indiana, Kentucky and West Virginia, would join it. Not only are the people of Cincinnati interested for the greater city, but those outside the city also.”

In the event that folks needed a little incentive beyond civic pride, the Post offered monetary rewards for the best ideas on how to increase the city’s population to 600,000 by 1910. First prize was $50, second prize was $25 and five third prizes of $5 rounded out the awards. From November 1905 into mid-January 1906, the Post published ideas as they arrived and interviewed city dignitaries about the ingenuity of the contest.

Among the celebrities interviewed about the initiative was Joseph B. Foraker, former governor of Ohio and current U.S. Senator from Ohio. He told the Post [15 November 1905]:

“Keep building skyscrapers. One can scarcely realize the great change that has come to the city. Why, from my window they are jumping up until the city is looking like an oil field. They are filled, too, just as rapidly as they are built. Make room for the people, and they will come along.”

Compared to some of the other ideas submitted to the Post, Senator Foraker’s suggestion was rather tame.

J. Louis Bunn, a house painter, suggested rerouting the Ohio River from Coney Island to Sedamsville southward into Kentucky, so that Covington, Newport, Bellevue and Dayton would be transplanted to Ohio and therefore become part of Cincinnati.

Frank Boies, a shoe-cutter, was convinced that closing all saloons on Sunday would do the trick.

Harry Dilg, an express delivery driver, lobbied for more championship prize fights being hosted by Cincinnati.

A contestant who signed his entry “Stranger” made a list of obstacles to Cincinnati’s growth. Would Cincinnati ever achieve 600,000 population? According to “Stranger”:

“Not as long as the Traction Company is not compelled to give the people better service. Not as long as the sweeping of any old rubbish, especially paper, off the sidewalk and into the street is allowed. Not as long as property-owners or their agents are indifferent to the appearance of property that has become vacant. Not as long as corporations are not compelled to think of others as well as themselves. The worst case of this kind will be found in the so-called ‘waiting room’ at the foot of Art Hill, sometimes called the Lock-st. Incline. W. Kesley Schoepf [president of the Traction Company] would not think of using it as a garage for his automobile, yet he expects patrons to ‘wait’ in there until one of his 5-cent carriages that you are compelled to stand up in half the time comes along.”

No newspaper contest, of course, would be complete without an entry from an adorable schoolgirl. The Post [28 December 1905] prominently blazoned the ideas of 13-year-old Gladys Schultz of Linwood, who wrote her contribution in verse:

“Annex all the villages in Hamilton County; Give all small manufactories a bounty. Exempt from taxation all chattels; Help the businessman fight some of his battles. Tax real estate all it will stand – The banker can lend a helping hand. Fill the Mill Creek Valley above high-water mark. Build factories thereon with space for a park. An underground railway, with a boulevard top, Our unsightly canal will make a beautiful spot. A union depot for all railroads to come in, Will bring 600,000 by 1910!”

The Post encouraged contestants to submit multiple entries and John Miller, a harness maker, complied by compiling 36 ideas into a single entry. Mr. Miller [11 December 1905] covered quite a bit of territory with his suggestions, ranging from the mundane . . .

“22. For Cincinnati to send a letter of thanks to President Roosevelt and Secretary Taft for the good they did in the last election.”

. . . to the idealistic.:

“36. Abolish capital punishment.”

Along the way, Mr. Miller lobbied for more monuments, an eight-hour work day, honest elections, free schoolbooks in the public schools, more parks along the riverfront and better service at the city hospital.

The winner of the big $50 prize was Marion L. Pernice Jr., assistant advertising manager of the Fay & Egan Company, manufacturers of woodworking machinery. His suggestion boiled down to essentially one word: Advertise! Pernice suggested that all goods manufactured in Cincinnati be labeled “From Cincinnati” and that only goods manufactured in Cincinnati be eligible for that slogan. All suburban manufacturers would lobby for annexation to Cincinnati to carry that prestigious mark.

Alas, the contest did not achieve its stated goal. Cincinnati’s population in 1905, approximately 340,000, reached only 364,000 in 1910. Evan worse, the census of 1910 marked the first time since 1830 that Cincinnati was not ranked among the largest 10 cities in the United States. It would be 1950 before Cincinnati achieved 500,000 residents and 60 years of population decline followed until an uptick in the 2020 census.

And yet, no serious discussion about re-channeling the Ohio River.

[bloodinesslooksgoodonyou]

Tough got me in my feels so here’s an angsty little country fic idea <3

What if Ian was a young botanist at UChicago in the 20s with a concentration in Appalachian flora on a summer academic field study. What if Mickey was a miner/bootlegger in a West Virginia village whose family was forced to host a “distinguished scholar from Chicago (or, pantsy glass-wearing ginger yank, according to Terry)” for two months per sheriff’s order.

What if they were roommates 👀 (hehe)

What if Ian was a painstaking writer but struggled with his plant illustrations. And Mickey never spent a day in school but had a gift for drawing. And they both had so much love and passion for the trees and mountains and waters of the American Southeast.

What if Ian offered to teach Mickey how to read while Mickey offered to draw all Ian’s diagrams.

What if Mickey briefly entertained the idea of going to Chicago, to see the city where his own jars of moonshine flowed free like the Shenandoah waterfalls, while Ian contemplated prolonging his trip, make it into his permanent job.

What if they got shitfaced over the booze they made, spread a blanket under the night sky and almost said things that they hadn’t the guts to tell anyone about but pretended that nothing happened the following day.

What if Mickey didn’t really want to marry his neighbor’s daughter Angie or stay a bootlegger forever, despite Terry and his brothers were pressuring him to do so.

What if Ian’s family got suspicious of his celibacy and had girls send pictures and write letters to him while he was away for longer than they had expected, and “he can’t be doing science on his own forever.”

What if they loved each other but never knew how to make it known.

Until it was too late and summer was long gone. Chicago was anew with cars and bars and gangsters and politicians. The fall mountains grew eerily quiet as the noises of cicadas died down. And there was no home for a northerner in the depth of WV as there was no room for a second author of Ian’s book—

“He’s the illustrator. These are not my works. Do you really think I can draw these, sir? You’ve seen me with a pencil. The point is, Doctor, Mickey isn’t just my guide.”

What if only then did he realize that he’s so much more than that.

lmao bye- 🧍🏻‍♀️

[rockislandadultreads]

Historical Fiction Recommendations

Spanning from 18th century North America to 20th century Asia, check out these historical fiction recommendations!

Dust Child by Nguyễn Phan Quế Mai

In 1969 Vietnam, sisters Trang and Quỳnh, desperate to help their parents pay off debts, leave their rural village and become “bar girls” in Sài Gòn, drinking, flirting (and more) with American GIs in return for money. As the war moves closer to the city, the once-innocent Trang gets swept up in an irresistible romance with a young and charming American helicopter pilot, Dan. Decades later, Dan returns to Việt Nam with his wife, Linda, hoping to find a way to heal from his PTSD and, unbeknownst to her, reckon with secrets from his past. 

One Blood by Denene Millner

Raised by her beloved grandmother in tension-filled, post-segregation Virginia, Grace is barely a teenager when she loses her Maw Maw. Shellshocked, she is shipped up North to live with her formidably ambitious Aunt Hattie - a woman who firmly left behind her “undesirable” Southern roots in pursuit of upward mobility. Feeling like a fish out of water, Grace’s only place of sweet comfort is with the smart, handsome son of one of the society’s grand dames. However, when he gets caught up in a racial police killing and Grace ends up pregnant, she is quickly hidden away and deceived by Hattie in an ultimate act of betrayal.

The House of Doors by Tan Twan Eng

The year is 1921. Lesley Hamlyn and her husband, Robert, a lawyer and war veteran, are living at Cassowary House on the Straits Settlement of Penang. When “Willie” Somerset Maugham, a famed writer and old friend of Robert's, arrives for an extended visit with his secretary Gerald, the pair threatens a rift that could alter more lives than one. Additionally, in desperate need of a subject for his next book, Maugham soon finds a story worthy of fiction when coming to learn more about Lesley's past. 

The Woman with the Cure by Lynn Cullen

In 1940s and ’50s America, polio is as dreaded as the atomic bomb. No one’s life is untouched by this disease that kills or paralyzes its victims, particularly children. Some of the world’s best minds are engaged in the race to find a vaccine. The man who succeeds will be a god. But Dorothy Horstmann is not focused on beating her colleagues to the vaccine. She just wants the world to have a cure. Applying the same determination that lifted her from a humble background to becoming a doctor, she hunts down the monster where it lurks: in the blood.

[sohannabarberaesque]

Postcards from Snagglepuss

So who was O. Winston Link, anyway?

O. WINSTON LINK MUSEUM, ROANOKE, VA: Outside of railfans (especially such fond of the Norfolk and Western Railway, which has long had a presence in Roanoke, one continuing in its contemporary form as Norfolk Southern) and students of photography, the name O. Winston Link (1914-2001) probably doesn't ring quite a bell.

But in the Blue Ridge country, his photography of tne Norfolk and Western Railway as it was preparing to make the transition from steam to diesel locomotion in the late 1950's is something of the stuff of legend. Especially a two-year initiative of his during 1955 and 1956 in particular, which featured plenty of night scenes of steam draped against backdrops rural, semi-urban and urban ... the sort, you might say, bound to strike the fascination of Super Snooper and Blabbermouse. Who, for some reason, decided to join our own party of vagabonds in Roanoke's former Norfolk and Western station, as houses the Roanoke Historical Museum, of which the O. Winston Link such is a part and parcel.

"It just seems particularly fascinating, Blab," Snoop could be heard remarking, "how one could situate a hotshot freight train in the background of a drive-in movie theater, with the inevitable pair of lovers kissing away in the foreground."

"And wondering what to pay the more attention to--the movie or the train," remarked I. (Which, you might like to know, was taken in the summer of 1956 in Iaeger, West Virginia.)

"It just gets me here, Snoop," Blabbermouse was quick to note on seeing a picture of a coal train passing through a small West Virginia town in the proverbial wee small hours of the night as the late shift waitress was being picked up from her shift at the local cafe. Like sentiment was directed at a nighttime wedge shot out of Luray, Virginia as the engine was preparing to take on water.

Crazy Claws was quick to chime in as well: "And you wonder how many flash bulbs he went through just to get the shot, to begin with!" (As a matter of fact, Link and his assistant, George Thom, relied on the asynchronous firing of no less than 42 #2 flashbulbs and one #0 flashbulb just to get that shot at the Iaeger drive-in. As Link himself famously explained that penchant of his for night photography in that project of N&W steam in its twilight, "I can't move the sun — and it's always in the wrong place — and I can't even move the tracks, so I had to create my own environment through lighting.")

Breathe in, then, such sentiment for times long past, bringing in a sense of moodiness in a landscape doubtless much changed. Yet it makes you wonder, especially as moi, Huck, Snoop and Blab took note of one shot of a gravity-feed gas pump at the local store in Vesuvius, Virgina as the N&W's premier overnight train, the Pocahontas, passed by at close range ... in the middle of a power outage affecting the village!

*************

@warnerbrosentertainment @groovybribri @jellystone-enjoyer @ultrakeencollectionbreadfan @zodiacfan32 @artistic-octopus @archive-archives @thylordshipofbutts @thebigdingle @themineralyoucrave @screamingtoosoftly @warnerbros-blog1 @iheartgod175 @indigo-corvus @theweekenddigest @funtasticworld @warnerbrosent-blog

[unhallowedrp]

SUBPLOTS PART ONE.

Each  of  our  subplots  contains  a  matching  wanted  ad  to  accompany  it!  We  have  a  total  of  6  subplots  currently  open,  and  1  closed  until  further  game  development.

01.  THE  PATH  WALKERS  .  .  .  DO  THE  GATES  CONTINUE?

The  Forest  of  Spores  has  always  been  off-limits.  However,  a  pocket  full  of  communities  isolated  themselves  from  the  outside  world.  Bound  by  steel  gates  rising  six  feet  tall, keeping  grey  broken  fingers  and  hanging  maws  from  their  flesh, the  villages  divided  themselves  up  into  several  smaller  villages.  Although  each  village  operated  independently,  they  were  still  a  cooperative  unit,  utilizing  the  gated  paths  to  trade  material  and  crops  that  others  lacked.  If  one  village  fell,  another  would  take  in  their  survivors  to  ensure  prosperity.  However,  slowly  over  the  last  few  years,  the  gates  and  paths  attaching  each  village  have  been forbidden  for  exploration. Kept  under  lock  and  key,  they  started  to  rust  with  disuse,  and  any  communication  from  the  neighboring  villages  went  completely  silent.  One  village, The  Path, has  stood  tall. "We're  the  last  ones  left," their  Sisterhood  proclaimed,  their  towering  chapel  dominating  the  horizon. "It's  best  we  start  acting  like  it." But  those  who  remember  when  the  villages  were  first  constructed  also  remember  strength  in  unity.  The  gates  were  a  safety  measure,  not  an  opportunity  for  isolation.  Without  it,  the  village  suffered. Despite  some  murmured  disagreement,  The  Path  operated  under  the  leadership  of  the  Sisterhood,  and  the  gates  remained  guarded. "To  open  them  is  a  death  sentence," they  told  them  all, "God  can  only  protect  us  within  our  own  village." A  large  majority  of  the  community  took  their  word  for  law,  attributing  their  survival  to  how  the  Sisterhood  ran  The  Path.  Others,  however,  saw  isolation  as  selfish,  power-hungry,  and  an  inevitable  damnation  of  their  village's  population.  Although  the  paths  have  been  forbidden,  any  who  dare  to  stray  too  close  are  punished,  and  a  select  few  have  started  to  group  and  question  what  happened  to  the  other  villages.  .  . One  group,  dubbing  themselves The  Path  Walkers  -  or  simply  The  Walkers  - have  formed  together  in  an  attempt  to  understand  what  the  Sisterhood  and  the  Guardianship  have  been  hiding. SUBPLOT ROLES: - Sister Agnes (Open, Jessica Lange) - The Sisterhood (0/8, Open) - Guardianship Leader (Open) - Guardianship (1/10, Open) - Pathwalker Leader (Open) - Pathwalkers (2/6, Open)

02.  BREAKING  NEWS:  MURDER  IN  RIVERWALK  TOWN!

Along  the  James  River,  a community  of  shanty  town  boats  put  along  from  month  to  month,  powered  by  generators,  solar  panels,  and  water-powered  electricity. Riverwalk  Town  established  itself  as  a  major  hub  of  commerce  in  central  Virginia,  capable  of  sustaining  its  community  due  to  its  unique  homestead.  Unlike  most  settlements,  Riverwalk  Town  migrates  up  and  down  the  James  River,  and  only  trusted  traders  are  given  their  new  location,  visitors  arriving  by  word  of  mouth.  Their  boats  and  shore  living  meant  less  infected  and  for  the  most  part,  they  remained  neutral  to  those  around  them.  However.  .  .  not  all  agree  with  the  direction  Riverwalk  Town  has  taken. While  the  boat  town  has  prided  itself  on  its  neutrality  and  long-standing  democracy,  the  council  composed  of  elected  individuals,  some  have  taken  issue  with  the  way  operations  have  run  and  the rumor  of  corruption. Lately,  more  and  more  violence  has  erupted  and  been  promptly  swept  under  the  rug,  Riverwalk  Town  appealing  to  the  militarized  (and  tyrannical)  power  of  the  Richmond  Safe  Zone.  The  primary  paper, Sweller  Scrolls, has  kept  the  headlines  squeaky  clean,  while  the  opposing  and  more  obscure  paper, The  River  Run, attempts  to  bring  attention  to  the  state  of  the  community. 'The  settlement  used  to  be  a  prime  hub  of  job  opportunity  and  supplies,  and  yet,  the  prices  have  since  surged  and  jobs  have  been  unfairly  distributed.' One  journalist  wrote. Protests  have  been  squashed  with  a  heavy  hand.  The  councilmen  who  enact  the  law  have  been  repeatedly  re-elected,  though  there  are  rumors  that  it  is  less  an  election  and  more  the  result  of  bribery.  When  democratic  practices  were  met  with Mayor  Sturgill  Atkins' attempts  to  deny  the  declining  state  of  Riverwalk,  matters  were  escalated.  No  one  can  say  for  sure  who  murdered  the  man,  only  that  his  body  was  located  under  a  mass  of  Swellers  at  the  edge  of  the  boat  town.  Members  of  the  council  claim  it  was  committed  by  a  settlement  that  has  lost  its  way  and  must  be  changed  -  while  others  wonder  if  the  death  of  the  mayor  was  just  another  power  grab.  An  emerging  and  neutral  councilman  was  placed  as  acting  mayor  as  the  upcoming  election  loomed.  .  .  his  smile  charismatic  and  words  promising  a  brighter  future. SUBPLOT ROLES: - Acting Mayor Vincent Shepard (Open, David Morrisey) - Sweller Scrolls Editor (Open) - River Run Editor (Taken) - Council Members (0/4, Open)

Stay tuned for part two. . .

[latibvles]

SAD, BEAUTIFUL, TRAGIC.

beautiful tragic // d-day plus six.

in which the company takes the village of carentan.

masterlist | gallery | taglist

WARNINGS: descriptions of gore, death, and injuries

SUMMARY: the nurses hit the ground running after being in Normandy for less than a week — not that daisy is necessarily complaining, as she’s placed in the first aid station closest to carentan.

She’s never really known how to be idle. Of course, anyone around her could tell her that — but there’s something about this heavy silence that hangs in the air that really smacks her in the face with that realization. It isn’t necessarily her fault, however, because in her defense, she’s been busy since she and her fellow nurses hit Normandy four days ago. Her muscles ache in a way that was almost satisfactory, nails chipped and broken from working with her hands, and for once she’s enjoying with this feeling of dirt itching across her skin. She only had enough time to squeeze in a few hours of precious sleep before she was back on her feet —not so much a shower. Not that she minded.

This however, she did mind, the waiting — staring in anticipation into the open rode and waiting for those first trucks to come with wounded men or corpses. How bad would it be? The rest of their men weren’t getting off the beach if they didn’t secure Carentan, and she had a feeling everybody with half a brain knew that. Including the Germans.

“Hey, Clarke,” she feels a hand come upon her shoulder and squeeze it, and she’s immediately looking to the left to face the one beckoning her.

Virginia Brant, their head nurse, and, as far as Daisy is concerned, one of the best nurses in their unit. Her gray eyes are searching, and she feels Ginny slide her arm down Daisy’s shoulder, going to grasp one of her hands. “Staring at the road won’t will something to happen. Come with me. Rita and Patty are cleaning bandages and I’m sure they could use the extra hands before this all goes to shit,” she raises both brows expectantly, and Daisy nods in surrender, allowing the woman to drag her away from the main road. She watches in fascination as Ginny’s blonde curls seem to bounce with every step she takes.

They’d met back in training a year ago, both of them fresh-faced nursing graduates hoping to put all that school to some good use. Ginny stuck by her ever since — and now was the Captain of their unit. The position always suited her. She’d always been an opinionated, commandeering sort.

Sure enough, Ginny leads her to one of the abandoned buildings that they’d used to establish this field hospital, five miles out from Carentan. Inside, there’s water boiling on the stove and she watches as her two fellow nurses dump bandages unceremoniously into the large metal basin on top.

Well, Rita’s unceremonious and quick about it. Patty is more precise, Daisy watches as she delicately places the bandages in the boiling water as though they were made of glass. Rita notices her and Ginny first, flashing the two of them a toothy grin.

“Was wonderin’ when you’d snap outta it. Ginny puttin’ you t’work now?” she asks playfully. Daisy releases her friend’s hand, and immediately goes to the pile of what she assumes is clean bandages, wringing out the water in them with a lighthearted roll of her eyes.

“I just knew that you’d be struggling without me, and I was feeling charitable today.”

“Oh how kind of you,” Rita drawls in response, eliciting a low chuckle from Ginny.

“Right then — the boys are set to come up on Carentan within the hour. So far we’ve got Easy Company and Fox Company making their way — but no doubt we can probably expect Dog Company falling in soon as well, and Able’s up to the North. Don’t know what firepower they’ve got on the German side, but you remember what it was like at the 42nd,” Daisy wrings out the next bandage a little tighter than what she’s used to, and her eyes flit to Patty, who’s resigned to picking at her bottom lip.

They’d gotten to Normandy early in comparison — as a result there was nowhere for them to set up a field hospital, nothing to set it up with. So they worked at the 42nd Field Hospital until they were ordered to move out. Most of the men they dealt with were some of the first to land in Normandy — and several required surgery. Needless to say, it was a bloody mess, and when things finally calmed down as much as they could, Daisy was the one who held Patty’s hair back as she threw up into a helmet with no liner after losing several patients in surgery.

The girl’s green eyes are clouded with a sort of pensiveness that lets Daisy know she’s probably thinking about that day too.

“Rita, I want you to assist our surgeon. Patty, I want you in preop, and Daisy, you’re on standby till we’re ready to send you down to the aid station. They’re still getting their bearings on who survived Day One so they’ll likely be short on medics. That clear?”

There’s an almost sick, cruel irony in her being ordered to wait, but she knows that it’s not like Ginny meant for things to pan out that way. Just happened to be her turn in this three-way rotation they’d set up. The luck of the draw. And Daisy, apparently, just seems to have poor luck today. But she doesn’t protest, just gives Ginny a definitive nod as she continues to wring out bandages and lay them out to dry. Rita replies with a calm ‘aye aye Captain’ and Patty squeaks out her own ‘You’ve got it.’

With that, their dear Captain Brant leaves the room, and Daisy crosses over to give Patty a reaffirming squeeze on the shoulder.

The sick, cruel irony was that every patient Patty lost hadn’t even made it past preop. She looks to Daisy with a frown, biting her bottom lip. Daisy, in turn, tries to give her a reassuring smile.

“You’ve got this, Pats. Everything’s gonna work out like it’s supposed to.” She brings the girl closer, and Patty tilts her head to one side so Daisy can kiss the side of her head as a means of reassurance.

They’d met Patricia Kegley upon their arrival in England. Daisy’s unit was meant to show an example of skill to the other nurses who had been on standby, waiting for D-Day’s fast arrival. Apparently, Patty was so moved by the display that she asked to be transferred to their unit — it had been finalized just before they were meant to embark to Normandy. Needless to say she was definitely emotional — sometimes Daisy wonders if those rosy cheeks of hers were a direct result of all the tears she’s wept for the fallen men. Needless to say, Patty’s heart was oftentimes, too big for her petite frame to carry.

Patty smiles at her, a wobbly thing but it’s an attempt, and she nods.

“You’re right, Daisy, I just…”

“I know, Patty, I know.”

The thing about rifles is that even when you’re miles off — you can still hear them. Especially when it’s countless rifles all firing off at the same time. Five miles out, she can still recognize the pepper of gunfire, no matter how distant — in times like this it almost feels like the entire field hospital is holding their collective breath. She hasn’t seen Rita nor Patty since they separated after cleaning duty — finding an unoccupied spot to perch upon in case anyone needed her.

There’s a loud, rattling boom, and Daisy cringes. She isn’t sure if it’s a mortar or very well placed TNT, and she can only hope that their guys were the ones setting it off as her knee begins to bounce in anticipation, waiting for whichever jeep is going to speed into the town first and take her away.

The biggest problem with distance is that while she can tell that there’s combat going on — it’s not like she can see it. So Daisy simply has to hope. Hope things are going as well as they can, hope that whoever is there is holding down the fort, and hope that when she does get down there — she’ll be useful enough.

And this is why she hates the waiting, even though it would probably do her some good to refine her patience. Left like this, on standby no less, would almost always lead to her generating the worst case scenarios and running through each of them as though she were her own cruel, sadistic drill sergeant.

The revving of an engine and the calls for aid snap her from her muddled thoughts.

An ambulance revvs through the gravel and two soldiers are unloading a third before it even comes to a complete halt. One side of his face is completely mangled by shrapnel, and she can see smoke pluming from his left arm as the entire place goes into motion. She watches as they carry him off and Patty coaxes the three of them inside, and it doesn’t take long before more and more are coming in. It’s a cacophony of tires screeching, of wailing, dying men, of nurses and doctors ordering about the soldiers to stay or go or hand that here.

“Nurse Clarke?”

A voice snaps her from her own trance, a hand firmly gripping her forearm and she turns to look at whoever called her. He’s got brown eyes, a helmet on, and she immediately recognizes the red cross on his uniform. Daisy clears her throat, rising to her feet but not paying mind to his grip, standing up straighter.

“Yes. That’s me.” It’s immediate. He gives her nothing more than a nod in greeting.

“Eugene Roe. You’re coming with me.” He’s got a thick accent and although he’s very quick to relay this to her, he’s also quick to release her arm as she grabs her helmet from where it rested at her side and the two move quickly down the street to an awaiting jeep on the hospital outskirts. He hops in first, extends his hand, which she takes to pull herself up immediately after. The last thing she sees before they take off is Captain Brant helping a soldier limp into a tent.

“How many wounded?” she asks as the sounds of gunfire grow louder, and she can make out indiscernible shouting.

“I don’t know.” Eugene replies, jaw clenching as they approach.

“If you had to take a guess?”

“We were getting shot down before we even stepped foot in Carenten, if that gives you an idea.” Daisy nods, as the jeep skids to a stop, jumping off without assistance and turning to face Eugene.

“Which company are you a part of?”

“Easy, ma’am.”

“Right. Okay, point me in the direction of your aid station and then just worry about getting your boys to me,” she feels the ghost of Eugene’s hand on her back as he guides her to a building. Gunfire rings loudly in her ears and they’re quick to scurry inside. Already she’s met with the scent of blood, men moaning in agony. She looks to Eugene, gives him a nod, and he’s scurrying off towards the front. Daisy moves further into the building, and after a brief exchange of introductions, immediately falls into step with the men around her.

A man is brought in — although he’s more like a boy — face a ghastly pale color, lip quivering and eyes blown wide.

“Here. Put ‘em here.” She gestures to an empty table and the two men who brought him in set him down. Immediately she’s moving the fabric of his jacket and shirt away, greeted with a bullet hole. Apparently, and unsurprisingly, they’re low on morphine — so Daisy tears a bit of his jacket unceremoniously. “Here. Bite this. It’s probably gonna hurt a lot but I need to get that bullet out, alright?” The boy looks to her, fear in his face, chest heaving.

“I don’t— I don’t wanna die,” is his meek, blubbering reply. Daisy reaches up, letting her fingers caress his face for the briefest moment and using her free hand to put pressure on the wound.

“You’re fine. Just need you to relax for a second and bite, okay? I’ll patch you up real nice.” It takes a few seconds, but he stops heaving and she, rather flippantly, shoves the cloth into his mouth before reaching for the tweezers and giving him one last shared look before she’s pulling out the first pieces of the bullet that had lodged into his side. His scream is muffled, and she winces, but continues.

It takes a few minutes, but she works deftly to ensure all the pieces had been pulled before she’s tearing open a packet of sulfa powder with her teeth and sprinkling it on the wound, then grabbing bandages and wrapping them around his waist, muttering out her own reassurances that he’s doing fine.

“Alright, you’re fine. You’re okay — hey, can someone come move him?! Send him up to the field hospital on the next ride up!” she calls out. Surely enough two medics come, but she frowns when they pick him up too roughly for her liking. “Hey. Easy now, he’s not a sack you can just swing around!”

She wipes off her hands with a rag, and sure enough there’s another patient being half-dragged in, and the roof of this aid station rattles with every mortar blast. She doesn’t slow down. There’s a man with a missing leg, a man with a few face abrasions and a wound in his thigh. She assumes that the man who brought him in is a friend, because when she’s done he makes a joke about her saving the man’s “family line” — if this were any other time, Daisy probably would’ve blushed.

Those aren’t even the worst ones of the day.

She’s just finished removing another bullet wound when the door nearly crashes open and three men come in, carrying a forth. The entire right side of his face is mangled, bloody, and he’s coughing up blood that dribbles down the front of his uniform. Even from across the room she can see the severe burns, the smoke that comes out of his boots. He’s whimpering and heaving and one of the men is muttering out his own reassurances.

“You’re gonna be fine, Tip, I’ve got you.”

Daisy, and two other medics immediately guide them to an open spot. Just as the one man moves to leave with the other two, she grabs his sleeve.

“Your name, sir?” Brown eyes, brown hair, an upturned nose and a look of frustration on his face. For a second she thinks he’s going to mouth off to her, but he doesn’t.

“Liebgott,” he bites out, and she repeats it quietly.

“Alright Liebgott, you stay here with him and keep him calm. Gonna take a second for the painkillers to kick in and we don’t need him thrashing about till then, got it?” As if thrown off by her order, he blinks for a moment. She narrows her eyes and repeats it again. “Got it?!”

“Yes nurse, got it.” he replies, moving into “Tip’s” field of vision. In cruder terms — the left side of his face. She watches Liebgott take his hand and squeeze it, before getting to work herself, cutting away at the fabric aggravating his burns as whatever drug the other medics adminsistered seems to kick in, and his body relaxes, barely reacting as one of them begins to cut away at some of the burned tissue. Make the surgeon’s job a little easier — but there’s not much they can do without proper surgical tools. Continuously, her gaze shifts to Liebgott when she’s moving on to another task, and once they’ve managed to move Tipper and send him up the five mile drive, she does her best to smile at him before he leaves.

The rest of the day goes quickly after that — she’s left heaving in the aftermath, but is conscious of not dragging a hand down her face despite the desire to. Instead, she takes a few steps back, looking about the station as she wipes her hands on her apron. There are men spread out on every available surface, some hooked up to plasma or other fluids, but the pepper of gunfire has died down significantly, and for that she’s relieved. Daisy’s eyes land on a doctor, tucked away in his own corner, and recognizes it as Eugene after a few moments, so she makes her way over.

A man sits on the table, with neatly parted ginger hair and a piercing blue-eyed gaze. Eugene seems to be wrapping a bandage around his ankle. It doesn’t help that he’s the first to notice her presence — she tries not to make her shudder too obvious. Afterwards, Eugene follows his stare, looks up, and gives her something of a smile. Even though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, it’s still warm and inviting.

“Nurse Clarke,” he greets.

“Roe, and this is…” she looks at the ginger expectantly.

“Lieutenant Winters, ma’am,” he introduces himself, and Daisy’s eyebrows shoot up reflexively.

“The one in charge,” she blurts without entirely thinking it through. Rita liked to gossip, so she was more than aware of the ‘Lieutenant Meehan situation’ as Rita liked to put it. He cracks a smile and suddenly Daisy wants to shrink into her own skin.

“Sorry sir I didn’t… I just— well I was gonna have Eugene pass this on but since you’re here I can do it,” she reaches up to scratch the side of her neck, then feeling the sticky substance on her fingertips, does her best not to swear. “Private Tipper’s been sent up to the hospital, they’ll probably be moving him further from there. If you wish to relay that to whoever might be concerned that’s up to you but I figured to notify you. I didn’t take all your guys though.” The last part of her statement garners a laugh from him — brief as it may be, and a small shake of his head as he voices his thanks. Daisy then looks back to Eugene.

“I… better get back to the field hospital. Someone will probably run by with the names of who we’ve got up with us, so keep a lookout for that. Be safe, Eugene. And you too, Lieutenant.”

She doesn’t linger for long after that, opting to scurry out of the aid station and into the now slightly busy town. But she doesn’t get very far, before she collides with another person.

“Long time, no see.”

[until-the-brahmin-come-home]

FALLOUT OC LIST

Quick rundown of each and every one of my ocs. fair warning, there's...a lot.

starting with the protagonists

Alex Miller: vault dweller/fallout 1. librarian, poet/storyteller, singer. gets through the game with a silver tongue and the combat skills of other people.

Alexandria Miller: chosen one/fallout 2. almost identical in appearance to Alex, was raised on the belief that she was his reincarnation (she isn't). still kind, but slightly more prone to combat. fiercely loyal to her village.

Samael Rafferty: lone wanderer/fallout 3. rude and sarcastic but a good person. High INT/END, low CHA. has attracted the attention of multiple divine entities and does not want any of it.

Courier Six/Omen: courier/fallout new vegas. God of warnings, messengers, luck, death, rebirth, the desert, games, travelers.

Nathaniel Sol: fallout 4, mechanic, sweetheart, high agility.

Nora Sol: fallout 4, lawyer, distant but kind, good head for logistics.

Valory Hargrave: fallout 4, Nora's sister, hedonist, intense.

Roadkill: the prisoner/fallout van buren. former leader of the Bluecopper Bandits, neutral leaning evil karma, good with horses.

Viktor Darling: fallout 76; not a vault dweller, part of a scientist group that arrived in west virginia to study the wildlife.

and now everyone else:

Captain Deadlight: glowing one captain of the whaling ship Incessant

Marie: technically a canon character - baby from the Pitt. adopted by sam. psychic abilities allow her to inflict her emotions on nearby people.

Devilpunks/Hellpunks: a group of mostly teenagers inspired by Sam who posit themselves against basically everyone else in the wasteland. Members include: Dagger (their unofficial leader), Muerte (their radio DJ), Gabriel, Saint, Beel, Hare-trigger, Chitin, Hellhound, and Rowan.

Summer Tardigrade Choir: a gen12 synth anachorite (faction by @/calder) with the psychic ability to intuit an object's physical properties and 'memories'. has plants growing out of her and jokingly calls herself a dryad

Melissa Miller: Alex's great-grandmother, a pre-war actress who starred in schlocky sci-fi movies

Martin Miller: Melissa's husband, ran an auto shop

Jacob & Gwen Miller: Alex's parents

Lady Luck/Miss Fortune: Courier's mother, the previous god of the Mojave region, luck goddess (obviously). died when the bombs dropped but echoes of her remain.

Death of a Hero: Courier's 'father', runs the cafe of broken dreams.

Kaga: technically a cut fo2 character. Alexandria's younger brother who was sick of living in her shadow. Also Feargus's father.

Raziel Rafferty: Samael's adopted daughter. Most successful of the Enclave psyker experiments; has technokinesis.

Nihil: god of mass death (ex. you could see her in Nipton). more of a force of nature than a person.

Maul: raider, member of the Pack

Killjoy: the Pack's resident veterinarian/medic/animal wrangler. was a parahunter until a jetpack crash left him severely injured and his squad kinda abandoned him. bitter and cynical, usually hides away in his (heavily fortified) shack.

Transceiver: the first successful Enclave psyker experiment; heavily mutated; his powers basically act as a psychic beacon he can't turn off. leader of the capital wasteland super mutants.

Jeremiah: architect

Moses C Sharpe: gunsmith. made Courier's signature gun, Snakebite

Professor Paradox: purposely leans into the mad scientist aesthetic; Viktor's mentor

Dallian: parahunter

Scion-3: Shaun in my fo4 rewrite. third in a line of artificially created humans made with nate and nora's dna, set to take over the Institute when Scion-2 retires.

Revelation: god of the future and visions. Responsible for the gift of Sight. Associated with dogs, water, and the moon.

God of Capitalism: a rotting, parasitic thing, lashing out and dragging down those consumed by greed in a desperate attempt to save itself. toying with the idea of it taking the form of vaultboy.

Rusty: ex-forged raider who joins sanctuary with her dog Tetanus

Joy & Daisy: Alexandria's twin daughters

Canis, aka Caine: Daisy's son, Alexandria's grandson; head of the Arroyo wolf scouts, who ride repaired motorcycles.

Deer Crossing: con artist operating in the PNW with his border collie Lady

Crossbuck: gunslinger bounty hunter, childhood friend of Deer Crossing

Beau: Deer's kinda-sorta-maybe boyfriend who he definitely shouldn't be interacting with (Beau is the son of a wine baron)

Mars: god of war of the Legion, dies when they collapse. not the actual Mars from Rome, not really

Andraw Lovelock: technically not a fallout oc; ranger from Wasteland

Hellion (Perihelion/Aphelion): also not a fallout oc. character for Fallen Earth, a game i have not successfully played because my laptop hates it. determined to use her functional immortality to learn and experience as much as possible

Other potential couriers I haven't fleshed out: Augustus (Legion), Acetone (NCR), Lance (House)

Moose: super mutant in the PNW, manages a trading post out of a junkyard

L.K: member of a group descended from girl scouts with similar practices (modified for the wasteland, of course)

Topaz: flower child from a hippie commune type place

Sal: fur trapper/trader

Deadnettle and Henbit: ghoul wives who run a radio station in virginia, they're from the same group as Viktor (Reverent scientists)

Theodore Bones: god of whimsy and chaos. he's the guy who's posing all the mannequins and teddy bears

Cherry: Roadkill's girlfriend, lesbian cowboy explosives expert from Ontario

Purgatory: explosives dealer. has a bomb-sniffing dog who helps her recover mines

Karma: tattoo artist in Rivet City

Romeo: head of the guards in the Gomorrah after the change in management

Niko Avery: Viktor's husband, a surgeon

Jonas & Marten: other member's of Roadkill's gang. Grew up together in Reno.

Maisy Brewitt: prewar seamstress, self-assured and friendly, from the fan project fallout caldera

Daisy Belle: android, distant and protective, Maisy's partner; also from fallout caldera

Minerva aka Minnie: an intelligent deathclaw living in Arroyo

Horses: Biscuit & Strudel (Courier's), Marrow (Roadkill), Cider (Nate), Scotch (Val), Brandy (Nora), Belle (Preston), Bourbon (Nora & Val's childhood horse), Harbinger (Sam)

Other animals: Fishbone the Raycat (Sam), Maraca the Nightstalker (Courier), Spoodle the Rat (Alex), Vision the Borzoi (Viktor), Domino the Raycat (Easy Pete)

Final total: 83 (ish. i mighta miscounted)

[mariacallous]

Voters on Navajo, Apache, and Hopi reservations helped swing Arizona for the Democrats in 2020. In response, the Republican governor and state legislature have curtailed ballot access for an already marginalized constituency.

To vote in the 2020 Presidential election, Frank Young rode a horse to the polls in Kayenta, Arizona. He was fifty-eight years old, and it was the first time he’d ever cast a ballot. Young is a citizen of the Navajo Nation, the country’s most populous Native American tribe, with nearly four hundred thousand members. About forty per cent of them live on a reservation that spans more than twenty-seven thousand square miles, an area larger than West Virginia. When we met, not far from his home in Rough Rock, a small Native community tucked under the mesa where his livestock grazes, he was wearing cowboy boots and a wide-brimmed black hat that sat low over a broad face weathered from years tending his animals. Two years ago, when his daughter convinced him that another Trump Presidency would be disastrous for Native Americans, Young decided that the best way to “protect the sacred” was to travel into battle the way his ancestors had. “We used to use horses to fight our enemies,” he said. “So my idea was, We’re gonna beat red. And we’d do it on horseback, and the horses will carry our culture and our democratic tradition and that will help us get it back.” Forty other riders joined him on an eight-mile ceremonial ride to vote at the local chapter house, the seat of the tribal government, which doubles as a polling site.

There are close to five million Native Americans of voting age in the United States, but only sixty-six per cent of them are registered to vote. Young said that he previously chose not to participate in American elections because the state and federal governments—he called them “colonizers”—had oppressed his people for centuries, extracting their timber, minerals, and ore, and leaving them to languish on land stripped of its value. “I just felt that our votes didn’t matter,” he told me.

It was an explanation that I heard a lot as I made my way across Arizona’s Navajo, Apache, and Hopi reservations, where human habitation is sparse, and flat-topped mountains preside over scrubby grass valleys. Native Americans have the highest rate of poverty in the nation—around twenty-seven per cent. As the pandemic took hold, the rate of unemployment soared to nearly twenty-nine per cent, reaching rates not seen in this country since the Great Depression. What this looks like on the ground is stunning: whole communities that live in substandard housing and, in 2022, lack electricity and running water. A former state legislator from the region said, “If you were told that there’s a Third World country in the middle of Arizona, you would not believe it. Yet people here still have to haul water, they have to use kerosene lanterns, and they have to use outhouses.”

Vida Begay, a Navajo woman from Indian Wells, Arizona, explained that people there had to strap two-hundred-gallon plastic water tanks—each of which can cost upward of two hundred dollars—to the back of their vehicles, filling them every few days, even in the depths of winter, when they have the tendency to freeze and crack open. On an Apache reservation, in Whiteriver, Lydia Dosela told me that there are members of her community who, because they can’t afford transportation, hitchhike to the town of Pinetop-Lakeside, twenty-five miles away, to work. “If it’s a choice between paying for gas and feeding their family, they are going to feed their family,” she said. As we toured her village, where stray dogs roam in packs, we passed the remains of a community center that had burned down after its copper wires were stripped by vandals. Dosela pointed to a small, windowless, unheated shed, the prefabricated kind that is meant to store tools and other equipment, and said that five people had been living in it.

Both Begay and Dosela are organizers with Northeast Arizona Native Democrats, hired to educate their communities about elections, garner support for Democratic candidates, and encourage voting. It is challenging work. Poverty and geography have combined to create structural barriers that thwart voting on sovereign Native lands. Poor people in the United States vote less than those with higher incomes, generally, but the remoteness of many communities and a general lack of reliable transportation make voting even more difficult for many Native Americans. In Navajo County, for example, which covers ten thousand square miles, there are only seventeen ballot drop boxes and twelve early-voting sites. Because local election offices are underfunded, the hours that those sites are open are often limited. The million-and-a-half acre Hopi Reservation has just three places where people can vote in person on Election Day. Early voting by mail helps Native voters, but post-office boxes can cost money that people may not have, and, in communities where there are not enough boxes to go around, residents sometimes have no choice but to get their mail delivered to towns that are hours away. There are only eleven post offices and sixteen additional sites that provide postal services across the entire Navajo reservation in Arizona. By contrast, West Virginia has seven hundred and twenty-five.

“Most of the time, when you have a post-office box, it makes voting a lot easier,” Allison Neswood, an attorney at the Native American Rights Fund, told me. “But, for Native communities, that’s not necessarily the case. The ones that are more rural, more remote, are farther from post offices, and the same obstacles to picking up the mail—Are the roads passable? Does my family have a vehicle that I can use?—also create barriers to voting.” (The majority of roads in Navajo Nation are unpaved and, in some parts of the reservation, only one in ten people owns a car. ) For tribal members who do not speak or read English and need language assistance, voting in person is the only option. But, for those who live in, for example, Teec Nos Pos, which is ninety-five miles from the nearest polling location, or for members of the Kaibab Paiute tribe, who have to travel two hundred and eighty-five miles to an early-voting site, voting in person may not be an option.

This year, Frank Young will once again ride his horse to the polls. His daughter, Allie, meanwhile, who is a program manager at the social-justice nonprofit, Harness, is sponsoring rides to register and to vote in other parts of Arizona, as well as in rural Black and Latino neighborhoods in Texas and Georgia. In her own community, Allie Young said, the show of civic engagement is meant to highlight a long history of voter suppression that continues to stymie Native Americans’ access to the ballot box. “The spirit of the horse represents strength and healing,” she said. “When we put our trust in the horse, it takes us where we need to go.”

Neither the Fifteenth Amendment, which prohibits both the state and federal governments from denying (male) citizens the right to vote based on race, nor the Snyder Act of 1924, which explicitly granted citizenship to Native Americans, enfranchised them in Arizona, because the Constitution left it up to the states to decide who could vote. That right wasn’t fully extended to Indigenous people residing in Arizona until 1948. Even then, state-sanctioned literacy tests continued to block many Native Americans from registering, until the practice was struck down by a Supreme Court decision in 1970, five years after the Voting Rights Act abolished such tests nationwide. At a campaign rally I attended in Cameron, a place known for its abandoned uranium mines and high rates of cancer, Theresa Hatathlie, a Navajo woman running for State Senate, told the crowd, “For a long time, my mother and my father were not allowed to vote. So when they were finally given that right, whether it was the primary, or the general, or a special election, no matter the distance, whether it was raining, snowing, hailing, they went to vote. They reminded us that our people, our ancestors, encountered all this hardship and all these challenges just to vote.”

In 2020, Native Americans, who comprise six per cent of the Arizona population, voted in numbers never before seen and are largely credited with turning the state blue. According to the Associated Press, voters on the Navajo and Hopi reservations cast seventeen thousand more votes in 2020 than they had four years earlier, a majority of them for Biden, who won the state by about ten and a half thousand votes. With Trump promising to reopen the uranium mines, seizing sacred lands, and threatening to renege on the 1868 treaty that allowed Navajos to return to their ancestral homeland, the prospect of a Republican victory was existential. Jordan Harvill, the national program director for Advance Native Political Leadership, an Indigenous-led nonprofit that works to increase Native American political representation, told me, “After years of chronic underinvestment and voter suppression in Native communities, Native voters proved to be a decisive voting bloc in 2020.”

Rather than trying to appeal to Native voters, the Republican legislature and governor are, instead, actively working against them. The 2021 Supreme Court decision in Brnovich v. Democratic National Committee, a case that originated in Arizona, essentially neutered the section of the Voting Rights Act which prohibits states from passing laws that result “in a denial or abridgement” of the right to vote “on account of race or color.” In an opinion written by Samuel Alito, the Court’s conservative majority ruled that a law passed by the Arizona legislature, which made it illegal for a person to return the ballot of a friend or neighbor to a drop box or polling location, and disqualified voters who cast ballots in the wrong location, did not violate the Voting Rights Act. In an amicus brief, lawyers for the Navajo Nation pointed out, “Arizona’s ballot collection law criminalizes ways in which Navajos historically participated in early voting by mail. Due to the remoteness of the Nation and lack of transportation, it is not uncommon for Navajos to ask their neighbors or clan members to deliver their mail.” The 2022 election will be the first time ballot collection will be outlawed. There is little doubt that it will suppress the Native vote.

The law’s prohibition against out-of-precinct voting is also likely to undercut Native representation. Indian reservations tend to lack street addresses—by one count, fifty thousand properties do not have a fixed address—so when people there register to vote they have to draw a map of where they live in order to be assigned to the correct precinct. But, in practice, this often leads to voters being placed in the wrong precinct or not getting a precinct assignment at all. Although they may be able to cast a provisional ballot, Arizona rejects provisional ballots more frequently than any other state, and a substantial number of those rejected ballots are from Indigenous communities. And though the state now allows voters to identify their domicile with a code from Google that uses latitude and longitude to create a shareable digital address, numerous challenges, starting with Internet access and poor cell service, make this difficult to implement on reservations. Casey Lee, a thirty-three-year-old Navajo chef, started registering voters in and around Kayenta after the pandemic forced him to shutter his food truck; he told me that he now spends much of his time finding Google codes for his neighbors.

Since the Brnovich decision, the legislature has continued to pass more laws that target Native Americans and other people of color, who tend to vote for Democrats. Voters now must “cure” ballots when there is a mismatch between the signature on file and the signature on the ballot by 7 P.M. on Election Day—previously, they had seven days to do so—a hurdle that is likely to be too high for most people living on reservations. Another law bans local election offices from receiving funding from outside organizations, despite chronic underfunding of those offices, especially on reservations. Two additional laws make it easier for registered voters to be removed from the voter-registration database. “The colonization of our people is not over,” the former state legislator told me. “And one of the most glaring forms is attacking our voting rights. It is the easiest way to take the power away from Indigenous communities. And so it continues to happen.”

Redistricting has also hit Native communities hard. Districts that were created to empower Native Americans have now been sliced and diced to mute Native voices. District 2, for instance, now encompasses sixty per cent of Arizona’s landmass, including fourteen of the state’s twenty-two tribes. It is the most Native voting district in the state. But the newly drawn map adds a large Republican county, diluting the Native vote and giving the advantage to white Republicans. This new map is a direct legacy of the Supreme Court’s 2013 decision in Shelby v. Holder, which effectively eliminated the provision of the Voting Rights Act that required the Justice Department to review changes to voting rules in states with a history of racial and ethnic discrimination before they could be adopted—what is known as “preclearance”—in order to insure that those changes would not harm minority voters. Without preclearance, states are now free to discriminate at will.

It was the twelfth day of early voting when I arrived in Dilkon, a town of fewer than two thousand people in the southwestern corner of the Navajo reservation. I followed a “Vote Here Today” sign to the town’s chapter house, an unassuming, dun-colored building on a dusty side road. The radio station KTNN, “the Voice of the Navajo Nation,” had set up in a parking lot a few hundred feet away, and was broadcasting a mix of country songs, tribal music, and exhortations to vote. Women crowded into a makeshift kitchen inside a horse trailer, preparing pozole, a pork-and-hominy stew. People arrived in fits and starts, most dropping off ballots before sitting down at folding tables to eat. Cindy Honani, an organizer from Mission for Arizona, a group funded by the Democratic Party, told me that it was the first time they had served hot food at a campaign event. The organizers hoped that both the stew and the presence of the radio station would draw a hundred people by day’s end. It was unseasonably cold—it snowed that morning—and people ate in a hurry and left. The mood was serious, not festive.

On the other side of the road was a neat row of compact houses. Begay told me that each one might have fifteen people living in it. That was the reason that COVID tore through the Navajo Nation, she said. (In May, 2020, there were more COVID cases per capita on the reservation than anywhere in the country.) “If one person got COVID, there was no place for them to isolate, so it went through the houses here like wildfire.” Masks are still required on the reservation, and, as I drove along Indian Route 15, it was not unusual to see hand-painted signs reminding people to wear them.

Missa Foy, the chair of the Navajo County Democrats, told me that, during the 2020 election, the pandemic had curtailed door-knocking and other traditional get-out-the-vote activities. “We had been on the ground since 2019, doing year-round deep canvassing, and when the pandemic hit we were not going to go out there and tell anyone to vote because it was just not the right thing to do,” she said. “So we came together as a team and said, ‘Let’s see who needs help. Let’s see what we can do.’ ” The group began connecting people with needed services, including meal boxes and P.P.E. “This wasn’t a branded effort,” Foy said. “We weren’t saying, ‘The Democratic Party is calling to save you.’ We just did it as community service.”

This effort was being run almost entirely by women. Later on, Foy and her colleagues decided to try to replicate it for voting, training community matriarchs on the ins and outs of voter registration and early voting, introducing them to candidates, and familiarizing them with the ten propositions that are on the midterm ballots. There are now a hundred and sixty-four matriarchs who have pledged to get their extended families to the polls. One of them, Lorraine Coin, a sixty-five-year-old Hopi woman I visited in Second Mesa, told me, “Women are the fire keepers of the house. When the kids come home from school, who is the first person they want to see? The mom, of course. And when the mom or grandmother or auntie talks, they are going to listen.”

Not long before I left Arizona, I drove around the town of Pinon with Suzy Etsitty, a medical-transportation driver who has worked to elect Democrats since 2014. Before that, she said, she “didn’t know crap about politics.” Now she regularly debates her Republican relatives, most of whom live off the reservation, about abortion, immigration, and inflation. And she can persuade her neighbors to register and vote because their lives depend on it. “I tell them that their social security is at stake,” she said. “That their rights are at stake. That we get funding from the government for our schools and our hospitals and for things like food stamps.”

Pinon is a dusty outpost of just over a thousand residents. As we drove, Etsitty, who lives out of town in a house built by her grandfather decades earlier, with her infirm mother and teen-age nieces, pointed out the public-school dormitory where she boarded until third grade. A housing development for the school’s teachers, many of whom have come to this isolated high desert from the Philippines, stood between the high school and a horse paddock. A sign welcoming visitors warned against social gatherings and listed other COVID prohibitions. Not far from the sole grocery store for nearly fifty miles, she showed me the post office where her midterm ballot was waiting for her, and the drop box where she would deposit it. “If Republicans get their way, they are going to do away with our voting rights,” she said. “That’s what really scares me.” ♦

[slowroadtosantiago]

Day 5 - Trinidad de Arre to Uterga

Today’s walk was 14 miles through Pamplona and on to Uterga passing one of the Camino’s iconic sights. But more of that in a minute.

To finish off last night…after our shower we popped out to find food. No one was serving that early so we found a supermarket and bought stuff to make a picnic. On the way back we walked by the river taking time to take in the medieval bridge we had crossed on the way and waterfalls. The place we stayed in was a 12th century hostel with water pressure to match!

It was an interesting experience overnight. It was very dark once the lights were out and I made the mistake of going to the loo without the torch on my phone. Finding my way back to my bunk in a room of 20 others was challenging and I nearly got into bed with someone else!

So on to today….we left by 8 and walked the three miles to Pamplona to have breakfast through the old gates.

I had wanted to see the cathedral and we managed to sneak in during an early morning service before they started charging an entrance fee. We didn’t stay long but wandered back to a hiking shop where Jane bought a new bum bag. The one she came with she couldn’t tighten enough, so swapped with mine, but mine was a bit knackered and needed a safety pin to hold it together.

On the way we bumped into Patricia, our Lithuanian friend, who we had last seen in Roncesvalles.

After buying more packs of tissues and water we headed out of town passing a flea market and a pretty park.

The road out of town climbed up and up and we went through multiple showers and hot sunny spells. The land was wide open and very verdant, with bright yellow rapeseed fields and villages perched on the hills. The views back to Pamplona were tremendous.

We eventually reached one of the most iconic sights on the Camino at the Alto de Perdón, the metal figures of the Camino Pilgrims. The views either side were amazing and gave us a great view of where we were going next.

We descended down a rather treacherous stony path and after a few miles ended up at Uterga and our hostel for the night.

We’re again in a large mixed dorm but have spent a very pleasant evening chatting to Joe and Charles from Virginia over the Pilgrim meal. Trump and religion were the two main topics!

It should be a shorter walk tomorrow, hopefully…