#also another war commences:

[polarisbibliotheque]

Nemesis (Vergil x Reader) - Chapter 2

Nemesis

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: The Abyss opening is a rare occurrence. In his youth, Vergil wanted to harness its power, but never thought he would meet his greatest adversary along the way. Years later, the Abyss is once again open and that might call for some rather unlikely alliances.

Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 (you are here!)

Age restriction: 18+ - there’s a lot of blood, violence, cursing and all those things people want to forbid younger audiences of seeing. Also, cosmic horror is a thing here. Procceed with caution.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Nothing too bad. The reader recovers, but has that empty existential thing that they've nowhere to go now.

Author's notes: Building your character! The reader has to be as badass as Vergil he wouldn't bow to a human weaker than him. Also, I've been playing with the idea of the Codex Daemonica for a while - Sparda and Eva needed to teach Dante and Vergil how Hell worked somehow.

Truth be told, I wanna write it and illustrate it. Might do it someday xD

Chapter 2

You thought you would wake up in Heaven.

The golden light of the afternoon painted the room in a warm embrace. You had no idea where you were – it looked like a small city hospital, seeming more like a cozy hotel than a home for doctors and diseased. While your eyes carefully scanned your surroundings, you found a young, kind looking woman – wearing a long, light green dress and white apron. She organized a few things around, finally looking at you after a while.

When she met your eyes, she opened a smile as warm as the sun outside.

“Oh, you are finally awake! Everyone is going to be so happy to hear that!”

“Where…” Your voice was raspy. You coughed a little bit, trying to clear your throat. It seemed like you didn’t use your voice in years. “Where am I?”

“Don’t worry about that. Your city… I’m really sorry about it. Everyone fled and searched for solace in here – we’re the nearest village around you. We were so scared to hear about what happened, but…” She glanced at you, questioning if she should keep talking. Your eyes had no feelings – it didn’t seem like the loss of your city affected that much. Perhaps you had already accepted that as you did your last stand. “We heard… Hmmm… Rumors. Of a last human who fought all the demons, ‘til the very last one. And because of that human, the demons didn’t spread to nearby cities.”

You shook your head while processing all those words. The nurse kept looking at you, clearly believing you were that human she was talking about. You matched all the descriptions, and you were left in the hospital’s porch quite injured – you, in the other hand, didn’t believe it was all thanks to you. A lot of good people died trying to protect the city, many of your colleagues. Good warriors, who didn’t go down without a good fight. They deserved the recognition too.

“How long have I been here…?”

“It’s been 5 days since you arrived.” The nurse giggled as you widened your eyes. You had been out for 5 days?! That was new… And it was impressive you even survived. “We were starting to worry… Your odds weren’t the best, if you allow me to say so. We hoped you’d be alright, but… You weren’t waking up. We thought you… Wouldn’t. I’m so happy you did, though.”

Once again you shook your head, processing all the information. It was a lot to absorb in only a few moments – and now, there was only one mystery left…

“How did I get here?”

“Hmmm. No one really knows.” The nurse sighed, eyes carrying honesty. “You just… Appeared. Someone carried you all the way here and left you on the door. The Head Nurse saw a dark figure through the window and saw you on the floor – as soon as she called us to help, the figure left. She doesn’t know who it was, but they ringed the doorbell and made sure someone would care for you.”

You furrowed your brows. There was no one left in the city, only you. The very few humans left were escaping on their own or left to die. You only had memories of fighting until your body gave out and you closed your eyes – finally waking up in the hospital. You had no knowledge of how you escaped the demons, fled the city and ended up there – and, apparently, no one else did either.

“Oh, they also wrapped you cozily around a big shawl so you wouldn’t be too cold. It was pouring that night.” You finally woke up from your thoughts as the woman handed you a midnight blue shawl; soft to the touch, enough to keep any wind or cold away from whoever wore it. “It seems like you have a very caring guardian angel.”

You smiled back to the nurse before she left the room. You kept running your hands through the soft scarf as you thought about everything that happened through the last days.

A guardian angel. You never thought they would be real – but if demons existed, angels should be real as well. It seemed fitting that your angel would be a dark yet caring figure.

You smiled alone, wrapping yourself around the shawl. After having lost everything, it was nice to believe you had a guardian angel watching over you.

**

“Can I help…?”

You had spent one week in the hospital and, by now, you already knew everyone. Your recovery, slow but certain, made every nurse, doctor and staff smile with hope – you were a case of certain death, but there you were: doing your best and fighting to stay alive.

It was the first time you walked out of your bed though.

“Y/n! You shouldn’t be wondering about!” Margaret, or Margie as everyone would call her, almost jumped out of her own wrinkled skin upon laying eyes on you. The very same Head Nurse who promptly helped you that night, she made sure you were resting and recovering. “Now, now! Back to your room!”

“You look like you need some help, Margie.” Your answer was calm, with a fun smile on your lips. She carried a pile of bedspreads and seemed to have a hard time keeping it all in her arms while trying to open the closet to organize them in. “C’mon, let me help you. I’m never recovering if I just stay tossed in bed crying over my bruised body.”

Margie’s judging eyes rested like glittering emeralds on yours. She was smaller than you, but that didn’t make her less commanding: Margaret could order around even the doctors – everyone respected her age and her experience.

Also, you thought everyone was a little bit afraid of her. She was a wonderful person indeed.

“Fine. But don’t you go jumping around like a gazelle. You need to recover.” Her words, even if harsh, made you smile.

“I’ll look after myself, don’t worry.” Your voice was calm and reassuring. It was the best way to deal with her. “You, in the other hand, look like you need help. What can I do?”

“Nothing. You can sit there and watch me.” Margaret pointed at a nearby chair – but you were as headstrong as she was. Pretending not to hear the woman, you took all the bedspreads from her, between her protests, and stood right by her side.

“Here. Now you can open the door and organize things while I hand you the bedspreads. A lot easier, isn’t it?”

“Oh, you are such a piece of work!” She shook her head in disapproval while doing exactly what you said. You just smiled back, watching carefully as you helped her fulfill her job. “I don’t know why you don’t go out to take a stroll in the garden. It’s much better than standing here like a broomstick by my side.”

“Hmmm. I like doing something.” You hummed back, taking a look at the sun outside through a nearby window. “Apparently, I’ll have enough time to stay around, so I can take strolls in the garden whenever I want to. I, hmmm… I guess I don’t want to think too much right now.”

“Oh, why is that? Thinking is always good, dear.”

“I know, but… I don’t know much what to do now.” You shrugged, trying to contain a sigh. “I don’t have a place to go after here. I guess… I’m trying to avoid thinking what I’m going to do after I fully recover.”

“Don’t you know any of the other survivors…?”

“I do, I just…” Now you couldn’t help but sighing. “I was left behind. I went back to save the children who didn’t make out of the city’s orphanage, but then my… Hmmm… Friends left without me.” You turned silent for a while, not even noticing Margaret staring at you with those beautiful emerald eyes. “I’d like to see the children, to know they’re ok. But I don’t feel like meeting everyone else… As far as they know, I’m as good as dead. If they even remember I exist. So… Yeah. I don’t really know what to do after recovering. I’m trying not to think of it so I won’t worry too much.”

You didn’t look at her as you were speaking neither after finishing your answer. The only thing that ran through your mind was a half anxiety attack questioning why you were opening your heart to another human being even after all that happened.

You concluded it was because you saw no threat in an old lady like Margaret. She could be threatening like a grandma, but she wasn’t a threat to your fragile heart.

Now kept safe behind layers and layers of stone walls you built around it.

“Well, well…” Margie finally spoke again, returning to her task. As you did before, she decided not to annoy you with a scrutinizing stare – it seemed like you would feel more comfortable if she kept the conversation as casual as you did. “You should help me this week, then. If you do a good job, you can stay around.”

You looked back at Margaret, noticing a small smile hidden on her dry lips. Your own smile reflected the golden bloom in your heart, as you continued silently helping her with the bedspreads.

Even if you didn’t end up doing a good job that week, Margaret had already decided. The hospital would take you in, for as long as you decided to stay.

*

Turns out, having you around the hospital was a very good thing.

As you slowly recovered, the staff realized how strong you were. Being a warrior, using your skills to protect your city until it fell, the hospital chores were easy and mundane – nothing like a day of tireless training to perfect your grip technique or your footwork on several situations with all kinds of enemies. Fixing lightbulbs or carrying groceries was quite peaceful compared to that.

As you started running errands for the staff, people around the town got to know you – and who you were. Always wearing a beautiful deep blue shawl, you were the one who posed the last stand and didn’t allow the demons to swarm the other cities. There was quite a sense of reverence – and even fear – you were never used to feeling before.

“Oh, if it’s not my favorite customer visiting me today! Hello, y/n!”

“How are you, Pepe?” You smiled peacefully as you heard the loud greeting of the bakery owner as soon as you stepped inside. “Business going well as usual?”

“Better than usual! You see, with the recent increase of people, there’s an increase in birthdays too. I have a huge order for a birthday party today!” His smile was contagious under the carefully sculptured moustache.

“That’s great to hear. I hope you can take my order too, though.” You leaned on the counter while his wife was busy helping a customer nearby.

“I can always take your orders, y/n. Everything for the one who helped save the city.” He had kindness in his eyes as you brushed the compliments away. You never knew what to do with yourself when people spoke to you like that – you were used to being bashed or, at least, invisible. “And everything for the hospital too, of course. What do you need?”

“Hmmm, Margie gave me a list, should be here somewhere…” You searched your pockets until you found a quite generous piece of paper. Pepe just stared at you, as you stared him back. “You know Margie…”

“Don’t sweat it, kid. I got your back.” He winked while taking the list and examining it with quick eyes. “It’s going to take just a while, the bread is in the oven. You’ll go back to the hospital with fresh, warm bread! How does that sound?”

“It sounds more than great, Pepe. You’re a lifesaver.” You smiled back, making him light up as bright as the day outside.

“Oh, that makes us even then! Have a sit, make yourself at home! I’ll bring you some tea!”

You didn’t even have time to answer: Pepe had already left in search for tea and something for you to snack while waiting for your order to be done.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt…” The other client, though, caught your attention before you could sit. “But I heard you both talking… You’re the one who defended the city? Before the demons and the Abyss destroyed it?”

“Oh. Yes.” Honestly, who wouldn’t have heard Pepe? You couldn’t even blame that random person. “Not just me. But I was one of the people who fought that day.”

“Well… I don’t mean to be rude or anything… But are you open to side jobs?” As the man asked, you furrowed your brows. You had never thought of that as a job. “I mean, as a hunter. My family is having problems with demons in a city nearby, they need a hunter’s help. We don’t know anyone… We can pay you well for your trouble!”

A demon hunter. You had never thought of working as one before – sure, you heard of them, but your city had a strong line of defense against human and non-human threats. Sure, it wasn’t enough to save everyone, but it did manage to save a few people. Given that, you never needed to hire a devil hunter and that was something quite rare to see where you came from.

It was a good opportunity to put your skills to use, to help you keep refining your skills. If you met that blue coated demon again, you’d need to be at your very best – no, you would need to be better. Being a hunter would help definitely help you as well as give you an opportunity to help financially at the hospital.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m open to that.” You snapped out of your thoughts in a matter of seconds. Maybe it would be the best way to find the blue coated demon and kick his ass for good. He deserved it – and you would never relax until you met him again and had your rematch. “I can work as a devil hunter. How can I contact your family?”

That marked the beginning of your career as a ruthless demon hunter. No one around had your skills and people would go to the hospital to treat their injuries as well as to hire you for eventual jobs.

It became something so common, Margaret instructed the reception to ask if the people coming in needed health care or were searching for the services of the in-house devil hunter.

You never turned out a job, though. As difficult as it sounded, as far as it was – you always put your midnight blue shawl and prayed in a murmur for your guardian angel to bring you home safely. You also prayed for your angel to protect you during the hunt and, if the blue coated demon appeared, to give you the strength and aid to defeat him. After the Abyss incident, that blue demon became your greatest enemy – the only you weren’t able to easily beat; the only whose skills, and pride, matched yours.

And you absolutely hated that.

**

The amount of knowledge surrounding the Abyss was perfectly… Unsatisfying. That’s what you thought, at least, during your arcane researches in the hospital’s library.

Whenever you weren’t helping around, running errands or hunting, you took your time to gather as much knowledge as you could regarding the Abyss. In your town, you only learnt it was a place out of the human world, carrying the “greatest horrors of mankind”. And that was it.

As one of the city’s warriors, you were in charge of defending it and its people – you knew of the Abyss, you knew it could manifest and open at any time, even if it wasn’t a common occurrence, but… That’s how far your knowledge went back then.

And you would argue that was how much everyone else in the city, even the elder researches, knew about it.

The Abyss had destroyed your city and had almost claimed your life. It made you encounter the blue coated devil for the first time – and burn inside for a rematch. Every time you thought of him, you wanted to punch that arrogant attitude out of his face. He was looking for the Abyss, and he probably knew something about it that you didn’t – you could bet wherever another fissure to the Abyss opened, he would be there.

Whatever that demon wanted with the Abyss – and whatever that darkness harbored – it couldn’t be good. You would stop anyone from entering or exiting the Abyss, even if that costed your life – and whatever the blue demon wanted with it, you would always be there to stop him.

Aside from that, you also searched for a way to close it for good. When it came to Hell, there was the legend of Sparda: the demon who rebelled against its own kind to lock the gates of Hell behind itself, finally settling down on your side with a human. If Sparda closed the gates of Hell forever, you could close the openings to the Abyss as well.

You just had to find a way to do that.

With an audible sigh, you leaned your head on your hand, surrounded by old, decaying tomes while sitting at the grand oak table of the library. The entries regarding the Abyss were always minimal, one page with big letters at most – and none of them gave you much information regarding its details: what the hell it was, what was in there, how far it went, its landscapes, what kinds of creatures inhabited its shadows, its hierarchies…

There could be a Codex Abyssae just like there was the Codex Daemonica. Since you had started working as a hunter, you practically knew the Codex by heart – knowing most demon species, their hierarchies in Hell, how powerful they were, the circles from Hell, their strengths and weaknesses… But even the Codex Daemonica had just a little note regarding the Abyss.

Your researches would prove to be very tiring indeed. You needed to speak to a creature who actually knew more about it – maybe you could even write your own Codex on the Abyss after gathering the information you needed.

If there wasn’t a book about it, you would have to write your own.

“Y/n! It’s time to stop reading and go to work.” Margie snapped you out of your thoughts as soon as you decided it was time to go deeper on your research.

“Another client?” You stretched your back – even if you sat with a good posture whenever you were reading, with time, you always ended up melting on your chair and looking like a piece of ice cream that was kept away from the freezer for far too long. “Demons?”

“No, it’s worse!” The man in charge of hiring you ran forward, nervously holding a little hat in his bony hands. “It’s… We don’t know. We think… It might be the same thing that happened to your city. You must help us! Please!”

“The Abyss…?” You immediately got up from your chair, already searching for your great silver sword and wrapping yourself on your deep blue guardian angel's shawl. With time, you found a use for dual guns and shotguns, as well as a combat knife for emergencies. You had read about summoning swords with arcane energy, but you weren’t yet strong enough in your arcane magic to be able to do that. You still had a long way to go – enter the use of guns. They were very practical when it came to fighting a swarm of demons. “Lead the way. Depending on how things look like, we’ll have to evacuate your city.”

“We’re already doing that, but we heard about you and… You can help us do it safely! You can stop the demons… Can’t you?” The man’s eyes were filled with horror while yours didn’t flinch for even a second.

“Every demon around will try to access the Abyss, just like it happened to my city.” Your answer was certain as a stone, while you finished gearing up. “Yeah. I can stop them. Every single one of them.”

Even the ones who wore blue.

“Be careful, dear… You have to come back and help me with the laundry on the weekend.” Margaret held your arm before you left the library.

“Don’t worry. You’re not gonna get rid of me this easy, Margie.” You winked at her; the confidence in your eyes reassuring and making her relax a little.

You were certain he would be there – and it would be the perfect opportunity for you to start the research for your own Codex Abyssae.

**

To be continued...

[my-darling-boy]

(TW injury description)

I am SO glad you asked I lose my mind over this man. Sidney Beldam! He’s most known for his miraculous recovery from a major facial injury sustained while he served as a young sergeant in the First World War. If you’ve read the Facemaker by Lindsay Fitzharris you might recognise him! Sources differ slightly about his story, so I’ve pieced it together as best I could. The photos below were from about February 1919!

Born in 1897, Sidney was about 17 living with his mother in Cambridge, England when the Great War commenced. While he didn’t enlist initially, he was soon conscripted when it came about in 1916 though thankfully he was in a non-combatant role driving lorries transporting soldiers to boats headed for France. It’s where he learned he enjoyed driving! However in April 1917, Sidney was transferred to the Machine Gun Corps and eventually rose to the rank of sergeant where only 7 months later, his life would change forever.

During the battle of Passchendaele, one of the muddiest most gruelling segments of the war, Sidney was on the frontlines when a shell burst, sending a shrapnel fragment tearing diagonally through his nose and the right side of his face. The young soldier collapsed face first into the mud which ended up saving his life as falling backwards would have caused him to choke on his own blood. For three days Sidney laid in a mangled heap floating in and out of consciousness while vermin scurried about his body and the other dead and wounded around him. No one would ever know the details of those agonising three days, but the trauma he experienced there left him with a lifelong phobia of rats and cockroaches. After the initial wounded had been cleared out, a wandering band of stretcher bearers discovered Sidney alive after one man touched him with his boot fully expecting him to be dead. Miraculously, he was still clinging to life.

The 19 year old sergeant was rushed down the line and then transferred to two different military hospitals where his wounds were hastily stitched in an effort to save his life before infection could spread. Unfortunately, closing the gap where he was missing flesh in his cheek caused his upper lip to be pulled into a sneer and a sunken depression formed where most of his nose was missing around the bridge. Still, he was lucky to be alive, which he later used to remark. Well he was luckier still as he would be transferred to Sidcup military hospital in Kent where he would become a patient under Sir Harold Gillies, the man often considered the pioneer of modern plastic surgery. When he arrived at hospital in 1918, his wounds were healed but his face still bore the heavy trauma of his experience. If you want to see his photographs upon arrival, I won’t post them here but if you search his name, the photos are everywhere. IMO they’re not graphic but I know it can upset some people.

Gillies went to work trying to restore Sidney’s face. This required him to reopen the wound in his cheek where a skin flap was grafted to allow his upper lip to return to normal. He also folded down a skin flap from his forehead in order to create a new nose. Behind his facade, a series of tubes and canals had to be inserted for proper sinus drainage and other unnamed functions. While his initial handful of surgeries did most of the work to reconstruct his face, Sidney underwent over 40 surgeries between 1918 and the 1930s, some reconstructive and some to evacuate the tubes behind the flesh, meaning the common cold was a routinely painful affliction for him. Gillies understood operations were traumatic for the men at Sidcup, especially since most required more than one, and so made a point about creating a lighthearted ward environment, one Sidney says was quite jolly with the staff doing everything they could to make them feel comfortable and dignified as possible. And while I thought the topmost photos were the most updated case study photos for his recovery, I stumbled upon another set from 1920 in the Faces of War by Andrew Bamji I have not seen posted anywhere!

And lads listen. In such a sweet little twist, while Sidney was still recovering from the bulk of his major surgeries, a local pianist by the name of Winifred volunteered to play for the resting servicemen, all of whom had some form of disfigurment or amputation. Carrying in her sheet music, she and Sidney laid eyes on each other for the first time and she later remarked how his smile instantly lit up the whole room! For them, it was love at first sight. The two were soon married, and although it was in the 1920s, I don’t have an exact year for this. This most likely came after Sidney was finally discharged from service in 1921. There is a photo of their wedding and y’all look how SWEET!!

Between his initial surgeries and army discharge, Gillies asked if Sidney would be his personal chauffeur, an offer he took up quickly as he loved driving from his time with lorries during the war. One somewhat humorous account tells of Gillies—who was a bit scattered at times—asking Sidney to renew his driver’s license as the surgeon left it until the last day to take care of; Sidney in a rush waited in a long line at the county hall before jumping the queue and begging the administrator to expedite his employer’s license as it was needed to drive him to the hospital the next day. The man refused, even for a surgeon to get him to his patients. Sidney went to another staff member who was friends with Gillies and begged him the same. The man cheerily agreed but was still in need of a signature from the stubborn administrator who again refused... at least until he found out Harold Gillies nearly won a golfing championship, at which point he took Sidney to his personal office to expedite the license as he was happy to do business for a skilled golfer (apparently saving people’s lives doesn’t matter as much??). A no doubt perplexed Sidney was finally able to get back to the hospital on time!

After his army discharge and most likely about the time of his marriage, Sidney moved back to Cambridge where he worked for the council as a rent collector. He was so well liked, apparently even from the people he collected from, that he soon worked his way to Housing Manager for Cambridge. About this time, he had a daughter, Pam. Every account I read of him, people gush about how sweet he was. His wife recalls how Sidney was always adored by all his family and friends. His granddaughter Marilyn McInnes in an interview said, “He was the most warm and optimistic and loving man. I adored my grandfather, I was constantly on his lap as a small child. I never noticed anything funny about his face, I guess I thought all grandads looked like mine.”

Sadly, Sidney Beldam passed away from cancer at about 80 years old in 1978. But considering the man was given 6 months to live and ended up living for 60 years more surrounded by a large and loving family, I’d say he certainly had a full life. There is a picture of him and his wife in the 60s and they are absolutely charming!!

But anyway that’s me done rambling I’ve a massive crush on him. His story makes me genuinely happy to tell and I’m so glad you asked!

[astaroth1357]

Devildom "Marriage/Proposal"

Again. Probably not too Christian-coded in Hell.

Contents: Satanic themes, possessive behavior mentioned

~♡♡♡~

First off, there's a big difference between a demon bonding with another demon vs. binding to a human. There's a lot more equal ground in the former, but the power dynamics are inherently different in the latter.

Traditionally, a demon "marrying" a human is usually used as the highest form of reward to an incredibly loyal follower. It's basically a way for a demon to point them out and make it clear, "This one is my favorite!"

Demons binding themselves to humans out a genuine connection is not unheard of, of course, but it's frightfully rare. Only handful may every do this at a time and not even Solomon has managed to pull it off despite the number of pacts under his belt.

It's this rare because to reform the new pact, the demon has to give up their grimoire (the books that more or less act as substitute for a demon's heart and soul) to their partner. It's like handing away the essence of their very being to another.

When demons bind with each other, the grimoire exchange is mutual. However, since humans don't have grimoire, binding to a human is seen as an act of extreme sacrifice and humility on the demon's part. It's truly the only kind of pact they have where the risks lie mostly with them.

Possessing a demon's grimoire is like literally owning the blueprint to their bodies. All of their powers, history, thoughts, and fears are detailed out within them. Every single weakness or spell to control them hides inside as well...

Because of this, demons take this decision very, VERY seriously. If your relationship falls apart, you don't want something that important left in the hands of your ex. A vast majority of demons never even show their grimoires, much less give them away.

A demon will only ever have one grimoire to share, so they can only ever be bound to one individual at a time. A human can technically be bound to multiple demons and having a binding pact does not erase lesser pacts, but again, it would be rare.

When an individual is in possession of a demon's grimoire, they will always be able to materialize it with just a slight flick of the wrist. Having it on their person will also be enough for them to summon the owner at will, barely a whisper necessary.

A demon will already show up stronger than usual if they're summoned by their grimoire, but using any added enchantments inside will only increase their power tenfold. A good caster can turn their partner into supercharged war machine with minimal effort.

There's a certain oneness between the pair that comes from binding that goes far beyond your average pact. The demon and their partner get the heightened ability to "read" each other. It's not full on telepathy, but they gain a preternatural sense for just how the other is feeling. An entire conversation can be held in the span of seconds with merely few glances and a shrug between them.

Demons are also EXTREMELY protective of their bound partners, which kind of makes sense considering what they're carrying around. They're not very good at hiding it either. We're talking full fangs out and deep, guttural growls at even the most minor of threats.

The offer of the grimoire is technically seen as the "proposal" and acceptance commences the "marriage." It's a big deal with when high-ranking demons decide to do this, so it's often celebrated by a public wedding ceremony.

The Grimores

Lucifer's grimoire has a real gothic flare to it. The whole thing is jet black leather with blood red rubies fixed to the spine and fine layer of gold leaf pressed into the corners. No matter where it's being kept, cover will always feel a bit cold to the touch... The pages are thick and textured, with every word inside written inside done in a careful, nearly mechanical hand. Perfectly legible. Technically flawless. Though certain pages are written with some hesitation, particularly the ones that go over his past...

Mammon's grimoire is, arguably, the most beautiful of the bunch. It's snow white with brilliant gold accents on the spine and along the edges. His personal sigil, painted in shimmering light, takes up most of the front cover and mesmerizes any eye that catches its shine. It's a little on the slim side, though, due in part to how thin pages are inside. Reading it can be a bit messy because the caster can always see whatever words have been scrawled out on the back of the page...

Leviathan's grimoire looks like something straight out of a sunken treasure chest. The brownish-violet leather used to bind it feels real, and it is, though it couldn't have come from any mortal creature on land. The edges are worn down and cracking from neglect, giving the whole thing a certain fragility over the rest... The pages are yellowed and hard from water damaged, yet the words inside still survive... even if parts of them are a tad smudged.

Satan's grimoire could probably pass for 18th century notebook. It too is leather bound, but it doesn’t have the same flare as his older brothers'. If anything, it has a very DIY feel to it, where the cover has a little glue in places it shouldn't and the rough-feeling pages don't all fit quite right. It feels more like a field journal than a demonic tome, perhaps adding to the distinct aura of rebellion radiating off of it... The script inside seems to change from page to page with some part written neatly and other parts apparently scrawled out in a rage. Legibility may vary.

Asmodeus' grimoire looks more like a decorative art piece than a book at times... The wine red cover is smooth and shiny with polished gems affixed like a spider's web on the front. Asmo's grimore is unique in that it is the only one that comes with a lock on it, one that can only be lifted by a spell only he knows. The penmanship inside is naturally beautiful, though sometimes the added flare of loops and flourishes gets in the way keeping everything readable.

Beelzebub's grimoire is deceptively simple looking compared to the others. It looks like your standard leather-bound book and aside from its surprising thickness, not much stands out about it. Even the engraving of his sigil on the cover doesn't have any extra color or shadow to it. But when it's open, the most gorgeous words lie inside as if penned by a master calligrapher. Every bit of space is used appropriately and each letter is clean, clear, and fluidly handled. It's not only legible, it's breathtaking and obviously done with a lot of time and care.

Belphegor's grimoire looks like a void in the space around it. It goes beyond the jet black of Lucifer's cover to an almost true black from cover to pages. You wouldn't even know that it's made of leather unless you felt it because it reflects no light and it betrays no design. Running a hand across it, though, does reveal the ridges of Belphie's sigil craved into the front and back cover. The black pages all have words are written in a bright, silvery, and iridescent ink. Parts of the pages also look seem to contain spilled stardust ready to fly off into the air. The penmanship is a little simple, compared to the rest, but nothing that can't be skimmed at a glance if need be.

Diavolo's grimoire could kill a man from its weight alone. The book is far too big for any shelf and thick with heavily textured, papyrus-like paper. No matter who has it, it will always feel as if a supernatural force is trying to pull it from their hands... Seeing much past its burgundy, black, and gold cover is more or less impossible but what's there truly befits royalty. Every aspect of the design is flawless, with polished onyx as black as night embedded in the spine and ancient symbols peppered between golden spindle-like filigree. One can only imagine what exactly is so forbidden on the inside though...

Barbatos' (true) grimoire is an honest to god mystery... No one has ever seen it and Solomon theorizes that he keeps it in a particularly empty timeline. If asked what it looks like, Barbatos will share that it's simply "a green book," but not elaborate much farther before changing the subject... One has to assume, though, it's probably as thick as a tree trunk with all the history within those pages and for the cover...? He's had all of the time in the world to make it something truly special.

[cartierdreamx]

THE LAST SLICE

good morning my sweet babies! hope your weekend is going more than incredible, just a short, sweet one shot i thought of when i randomly have the urge to write, hope you enjoy!! J <333

Pairings: jenna ortega x fem! Reader

Warnings: angst (? like if you read in between the lines😭), swearing, it’s really just fluff LMFAO.

Summary: jenna wanted a sign. 

Words: 2k+

This fic includes no NSFW themes, but my blog does have a minors DNI rule! you are responsible for your own social media intake, which includes reading entertainment, which this fic falls under. thank you!

~~

“You gotta be faster than that, Ortega.” You tease, sticking your tongue out as you take the last pizza slice, Jenna’s hand narrowly missing the food she had craved the most the entire morning, she knew the crew was going to order pizza for everyone just after the ‘cut’ was called for lunch to commence. But pizza being pizza, it was a war to get to the slices, unfortunately you and Jenna would be one of the last ones to get to the buffet table having need to debrief with each other, the director, and the producer about the scene. Luckily today, debrief was quick and the cheese with carefully placed pepperoni all over creating little pools of grease called out something, your name.

“I’m gonna kill you, l/n.” A stern brunette darts her eyes up at your as you take a bite, a bite so comedically insane she was so sure you were mocking her, to be fair, you are. “Oh, I hate you.”

“Mhmhm, I call bluff, you’re not going to kill me,” you roll your eyes, taking yet another sweet bite, killing Jenna just a bit more, “and plus, you love me.”

“No, I don’t.” Jenna was quick to shut the statement down, mostly to change the subject because she didn’t want to give you two wins today. You knew she loves you, you love her too, except the only difference is, she only reciprocated platonic feelings. It was an accident, but sometimes the best things come from accidents, falling for her was an accident, not a mistake, well you hope it isn’t a mistake.

By now, you were used to the daily making out with random actors and actresses, most roles you booked had a love story in it and you were a main love interest every time, what can you say, your charms hypnotised the world.

But there was a certain charm that washed over you, her, Jenna’s gaze was something, her heart was everything. She was, she is, your everything. To this day, you steal every look you can and when she catches you, a soft blush always surfaced its way to your cheeks, which only made her laugh. You promised yourself you wouldn’t fall for America’s sweetheart but it’s a whole lot easier breaking self-promises, and you also promised yourself, no matter what your delusions would tell you, she doesn’t have feelings for you back.

“Mhmh, you held the kiss longer than you were supposed to.” You retort, teasing her and only slightly flirting with her, making sure she doesn’t read into it.

She scoffs and playfully punches your arm, “BUT YOU DIDN’T BREAK AWAY!”

You play a sly grin, making her giggle a bit, “I didn’t hear cut.” You shrug. And before she could come up with a quirky comeback, your moment was slightly ruined by the producer’s son who has been shadowing his dad for the past few weeks and unfortunately for you, he was quick to pine over Jenna, who wouldn’t? The world’s pining over her, you’re pining over her, it’s no surprise he is too.

It’s no lie he made you jealous, not that you wanted any of his features or his personality, actually you think his personality is quite cheesy, he made you jealous because in your eyes, in your mind, Jenna was pinning over him too, you wanted her to pine over you, wanted her to want you the way he does, the way you do.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt, but can I steal Jenna away for a second.” He asks, she smiles, see, it was that damn nature of his that made her smile, that damn nature of his that you curse, although it wasn’t fair for you to dislike the guy for this very reason, it was your nature to wallow in angst every time they were together.

“You could steal me anytime, Idrys.” She giggles, making you die inside even more. You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, just smiling and nodding at him, giving him the ‘okay.’ As he whisks her away, your eye stays locked on them, mostly locked on Jenna, watching her every move, jealousy brewing from your stomach seeping its way to your heart.

The delectable pizza was just a cold mush to you now, nothing about it was desirable to you anymore, that sinking feeling got to you, you toss the rest of your slice in the bin, but what you saw next made you even more sick, your eyes relayed the sight of Idrys towering over Jenna whilst she looks up, laughing flashing him with those dreamy eyes of hers.

“I love my son, but Jenna can do so much better than him.” Turning around, you see your producer pursing his lips at you, “I’m serious, y/n, they have no chemistry.”

“They make a cute couple.”  

“Wow, for someone who has an Oscar, you are a terrible liar.” Placing his hands on your shoulder, centring you down.

“I wasn’t lying.”

“But you weren’t telling the truth, they make a cute couple because they’re both attractive, and that’s it, they share no fire, you and Jenna do.”

“I am a great actress.” You cheese, trying to lighten the mood and hopefully change the subject, but that was a horrible attempt as it only directed the attention of your director to you two, which he thought it’d be a great idea to welcome herself into the conversation.

“That you are, but no one could act the way you feel about her, the way she feels about you.” She starts, “what you two have is real, and I mean more than just your friendship, like don’t get me wrong, that shit is cute, but the raw chemistry and love you two share, that is unmatched, his son can only imagine having that with her.” She looks to her side, shaping an ‘O’ with her mouth, “no offence, man.”

“None taken, you’re one hundred percent right, and plus, EVERYONE saw that kiss, she held it longer than she was supposed to.” Solidifying her point. Those two acted like a married couple, they weren’t together, but you could’ve sworn their dynamic was unmatched, “go get the girl, y/n.” They say in unison, walking away together, only proving you right.

“Hey, sorry that took a while, what did they want?” Jenna’s voice getting louder as she steps closer to you, now looking at you with the same dreamy eyes, except it was different, jumping to conclusions those eyes screamed platonic. What your dumbass didn’t realise was that the look she gave you was different, she never looked at anyone the way she looks at you, her eyes were love sick, she was lovesick, for you.

“Oh, it’s no problem, and uh, they were just talking about my character development, how they want my character to grow.” Lying through your teeth, you just hope she couldn’t see through you the way the other two did.

“You didn’t like it? It’s okay if you don’t, you can speak to them, they love and respect you, like you’re their love child, cus everyone agrees they act like a married couple.” She says, in the sweetest, softest tone, you could melt, bend at your knees. “You seem upset, baby.” Baby.

You shake your head and with such slyness you lean on the table, making sure you don’t topple over at the sound of her nickname for you, you weren’t lying when you told yourself you would bend at your knees for her.

“Huh? OH, no, no, I’m not upset at all.” Another lie, “it’s just been a long week and I can’t wait to get home; the new season of Black Mirror is out.” You smile, baring all your teeth, now that one wasn’t a complete lie, it has been a long week and there is a new season that you can’t wait to binge.

“Hurgh, I thought you said we’d watch it together!” Jenna acts betrayal as she grasps her shirt near her heart region.

“Okayyyyy, come over tonight.” Rolling her eyes at her, making sure your invitation was finite and not a question, so she would have to come over.

“Oh, uh, actually, I would love to.” There’s a change in her tone.

“But…?”

“But I have a date tonight, with Idrys, it’s what we were talking about before. Watch it without me, I’ll catch up.” Oh. You regret inviting her, because maybe you’d only have to hear about the date after it happened. Oh, who are you kidding, she would’ve told you the second she got back and the voice in your head would be pestering you to dig at her, asking what their conversation was about, you were going to find out about the date in a heartbeat.

“Right, well that’s better than spending it with me on my couch, so have fun, he’s cute, and no doubt you’re going to look breathtaking tonight.” You try your hardest to not show the stabbing feeling that buries your heart right now.

“I’m glad you think so, pick me up at seven.” She cheeses, with such mischief behind her eyes.

“JENNAAAA.”

“Thank you, baby.”

How could you say no.

~~

As Jen enters your car, you can’t help but stare in awe, she looks ethereal, she is ethereal. She was wearing a black mini skirt that hugged her hips, accompanied by a sheer white button up that caressed her curves, thought the material was sheer, it wasn’t completely see through, and her hair was up in a slick, mid bun with her middle part showing.

There was no one in the world, the universe that made you feel the way she did, she was like basking in the warm Australian sun, like the skyline of a city at night time reflecting on your skin, where light was, she was there, she isn’t the light, she’s your light.

“You know, l/n, if you keep staring, I’ll miss my date.” Jenna teases, only making you blush and giggle, but the dimness of your car shadowed your face, making it hard for Jenna to see the blush, but what she did see was the spark in your eyes which calmed the sea of nervousness she was swimming in. Maybe you should keep staring.

As you start driving, you start fidgeting, Jenna noticed but she didn’t want to point it out, scared it’ll only push you away and make you dismissive. The tension in the car was strong, it could cut a boulder clean, and you couldn’t take that so you small talk her acting as if you were her uber driver and you don’t have a relationship with her.

“So, uh, you excited?”

“A bit, more nervous actually.”

“He should be nervous, he’s the one going on a date with THE Jenna Ortega.”

“Hmph, you flatter me.” You try. “Actually, he’s the one who has been nervous all week, he’s been asking me out every single day without fail for the past seven days.”

“And you kept rejecting him?”

“Something like that,” you also hope that the dim lights didn’t reveal your sly smirk painted on your face.

“Why did you?”

“I just wanted to see if something else would come along.”

“That is?”

“A sign.”

“A sign?”

“A sign for me to officially say no, I told him to give me a week, and on the last day, I caved and said yes.” Confusion starts to set in, you couldn’t tell if she wanted to even go on this date, you know, with the whole sign thingy, maybe she was just looking for a reason to say no but there wasn’t one conjured up in time.”

“I take it there wasn’t any?”

“Zilch. Maybe no sign meant I should say yes.”

“Unfortunate,” you mumble, maybe if a sign did show, you wouldn’t be caught in this situation.

“Indeed.” You didn’t think she heard you, but she did, unfortunately though, you didn’t hear her. “What was that?” You ask.

“Oh, nothing, just thinking out loud.”

“Right, well, we’re here, just let me park and help you out.” You park swiftly and with ease, despite needing to parallel park, with that same swiftness you hop out and open the car door for Jenna, extending your arm out for her.

“Always a gentleman.” She smiles.

“Gentlewoman,” you jokingly correct her, she lets out a small huff of laughter whilst her smile stays in place, “what’re you waiting for, Jen?”

“A sign, baby.” There it was again, baby.

“Go have fun, Jen.” You grab her hand once more and caress each knuckle.

She held her blink longer than usual, smiling as she does so, letting out a wistful sigh, and before she turns away and leaves, she tippy toes up, placing a soft, warm kiss on your cheek. Except it was so much closer to the edge of your mouth, you want to say it was a kiss?

~~

Once you settle back into your couch, snuggle up in your fluffy blanket, you can’t wait to hear the iconic tudum ahead of every Black Mirror episode, getting lost in the new season, hoping to clear your mind of Jenna and her date, the date now an hour in.

And even though she gave you permission to watch the new season without you, there was a guilt building in you every time you considered pressing play, so you listen and decide to save season six for another time, another time where Jenna was with you, resting her head on your shoulder.

Instead, you opt to rewatch your favourite episode instead, ‘San Junipero,’ but before the first interaction of the episode could start, you hear your doorbell ring, you pause the episode and go check it out.

Looking through your ring camera app, you see Jenna? You open the door in confusion and map the brunette up and down, making sure you weren’t hallucinating, you see her smiling softly at you holding a pizza box in her hand.

“Hi.” She smiles, only making you even more confused.

“Hello?” You start off, “what’re you doing here, your date?”

She breathes in deeply, hearing the oxygen enter her body, she exhales just as deeply, hearing the carbon dioxide, that was once oxygen, leave her body. “Well, I was on a date, enjoying delicious food, with a very cute and funny boy in front of me,” your heart drops, “but.” Your heart raises, and so does one of your eyebrows.

“But?”

“He wasn’t the one I wanted to be with, he’s great and all but he doesn’t occupy my heart, he’s just a friend, I explained it to him, and he was very sweet about it, he understood, actually he was the one who dropped me off here.”

“Well, who does occupy your heart?” Your naïve and oblivious self asks. Only making Jenna’s facial expression form a horror as a result of you not being able to connect the dots.

“YOU. YOU DO, Y/N, I love you.” You freeze, “you’re the one I want to be with, I love more than you could ever imagine.” And before you could react, you feel her lips on yours, like it was coming home, except this time, it was here to stay, and they were speaking the truth, no lies, no acting, no cut, just the truth.

“But the sign?” You break away.

“The sign was you, you idiot, I wanted to see if a miracle would happen, and you would ask me out.”

“OHHHHH.” Realisation hits you like a truck, “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

“Yes ma’am.” You pull her waist in, essentially pulling her inside your house, greeting her lips once more as she places the pizza on your table, dancing in motion together as if the two of you were among the stars.

“And before you try anything funny,” she pulls away, making you whimper a bit, “there’s twelve slices of pizza, six each so we both get a last slice.”

You smile, making you’re the corner of your lips connect to your eyes, essentially closing your eyes as a reaction.

“Last slice.”

~~

a/n: j! try to write at a normal time and fix your sleep schedule challenge <3 (it’s 6am)

taglist: @talialeih​ (uber eats me a pizza please, love.)

[bookishdaze]

Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes Review. More like Rambling and Word Vomiting.

I saw it last night. Finally. After so long!

I personally thought it was good, and a solid addition to the POTA franchise. I don't think it's better than Dawn or War, but I'm willing to bet that by the time the full trilogy is out, Kingdom is gonna be looked back upon as a good beginning to Noa and Mae's story, the same way Rise, despite being most people's least favorite of the Caesar trilogy, is still an amazing intro to Caesar's story.

Some nitpicks. Despite the movie being 2.5 hours long, I felt like the final act came too fast? Like, I understand what people meant with the pacing issue. Suddenly we were in the 3rd act and I was like "Wait, we're here? It's done?"

Now, onto the characters! Let the fangirling commence!

Noa

I loved seeing how his journey and character started and where he ends by the end of the movie.

Him going from "That is the law" to "That is the law. But the law is wrong" was so satisfying.

And him being able to call the eagles to him by the end was great to see. By the way, THE SINGING SCENE WITH THE EAGLES???? LIKE???? It could've been so corny but I LOVED IT???

I'm so glad this movie answered the question of whether apes can sing. Yeah, I know they are only humming, but I'LL TAKE IT. APES CAN SING. YESSSS!

He was just a really nice character to follow. I can't wait to see how he'll be like in the next movie after the events of this one transformed him.

I also think he is the kind of protagonist we need after Caesar. I love Caesar, but Noa is....hmm, I guess you could say softer? More naive? I'm sure he'll get tougher as the movies progress like Caesar did, but I like this change.

Mae

I am a Mae defender. Yes, she did betray Noa in the end. I expected her to tbh. And I understand why she did it. She was right in that Proximus getting his hands on those weapons would've been disastrous.

She has probably been taught all her life nothing but bad things about the apes. She was not going to switch sides just because she met Noa. We still got two whole movies after this. She probably won't have her "redemption" until the 3rd movie. I can honestly go on rambling about her, but I'd rather save that for another separate post.

Raka

I really like him. He's great and funny. I love seeing how he talks about humans and his hopes for humans and apes.

Right before he dies, he reminds Noa "Together, strong." His final words and his necklace as a gift to Noa serve as a reminder. A reminder of a hopeful future where apes and humans can coexist. (And then Noa passing along that same necklace to Mae? Bringing a reminder of that hope for peace into her world? Ugh. So good.)

Also, "He was my village." LIKE. DID HE LOSE HIS PARTNER? MY HEART.

Proximus

I thought he was cool. He gave my mother and I a jump scare at the dinner scene where he slams his fist. Also, the way he was just in awe of the gun after Lightning dies. He has his priorities.

Soona and Anaya

Those two were so cute, and I loved their friendship with Noa.

Anaya broke my heart. In the beginning at the tunnel scene, he's all like "Anaya is not scared." But at Proximus's kingdom, he looks terrified at the dinner scene, and before he goes on the mission to climb the wall, he goes "Anaya is scared" and didn't want to go. Poor guy. He pulled through in the end though.

Although *puts on tinfoil hat* this makes me wonder if this foreshadows how his fear will lead him to make a big mistake in the future movies. Similar to what happened with Winter.

Soona was so sweet. Although I'm disappointed we didn't get more of her with Noa. I saw an interview where Soona's actress described a moment where after they are reunited, they kind of make known their feelings for each other or something like that. But...it didn't happen?

Mae and Noa

Alrighty, I'm gonna briefly put on my shipping goggles on, bear with me, because one has to be a teensy bit delusional for this type of stuff, BUT....

I sensed a....vibe? Not a romantic vibe. They are nowhere close to that yet. But I felt like there were tropes and scenes between them that simply imply a romantic path is a possible direction for their relationship. I will make a separate post about them. I wanna wrap this up, lol.

The ending

I liked the ending. It has me so excited for the future of this trilogy. Now that the humans are able to communicate with others, what will this mean? How will Mae be torn between her people and the apes? Same with Noa? I need to know naooooo

8.5/10 stars (I ain't done rambling about this movie yet. But it's my birthday, and I gotta go out and have some dinner, hehe).

[drtanner]

Genuinely wish I had the energy to talk more about UK politics here given that Tumblr is so US-centric and desperately needs the added perspective, but there's genuinely fuck all happening here that hasn't been par for the course for the last ~14 years. Tories gonna Tory.

A brief rundown for interested parties:

After a long and arduous battle to convince everyone that it should be legal to do so, our government has commenced with its plan to shove asylum seekers who attempt an extremely dangerous Channel crossing on small boats to find safety here onto planes and ship them off to Rwanda, a country with significant human rights issues. There does not seem to be any desire to do anything about the "criminal gangs" who are supposedly trafficking these asylum seekers and sending them here, or to ask any questions about what might make people so desperate that they'd risk crossing the Channel in a tiny boat in the first place.

Having sent everyone back to the office despite COVID still very much being a thing so that we can oil the wheels of the UK economy with our blood and to prevent their portfolios from losing value, the same ghouls are now proposing that disabled people "do their duty" by being forced to work from home, or else lose their benefits. They're also proposing mandatory work placements for people who fail to find work within 18 months.

Transphobia remains the culture war du jour, despite all evidence showing that it is a vote loser. Our government continues to be obsessed with policing the genitals of children and ensuring that trans people receive abuse from every possible direction, having recently released "guidance" for schools that essentially instructs them to deny trans kids any kind of shelter or agency whatsoever and to refuse their requests for basic dignity whenever the opportunity to do so arises, whilst simultaneously attempting to introduce the term "gender ideology" into mainstream parlance.

The Online Safety Bill, which proposes that social media sites should require ID in order to sign up, is also a porn ban.

We (and the US) are still bombing people in another country, without it having been approved by vote beforehand, in order to prevent Israel from suffering any economic hardship while it continues to commit a genocide using weapons that we (and the US) provide. Our government assures us that this will continue for as long as Israel wants it to, and is still talking about "humanitarian pauses" instead of any kind of actual, real ceasefire.

Labour (the supposed "opposition" party) has wholeheartedly supported every part of this and in some cases seems to think that the current government doesn't go far enough.

We're still in the middle of a cost of living crisis, by the way. Also the climate crisis, with more and more people losing their homes and livelihoods to flooding with every passing year. No one's talking about any of that, though. There might be a transgender child receiving lifesaving healthcare somewhere, or maybe an immigrant being treated with respect, which is obviously much worse.

So that's where we are right now. We've been promised an election this year but given that Labour haven't opposed any part of the cruelty this government has been visiting upon everyone but the white, cishet, ablebodied rich, it's unclear whether getting the Tories out will actually materially improve anything. If you've got the Greens or Lib Dems as candidates in your constituency, I guess it's time to make peace with voting for them instead of Labour, maybe.

So, yeah. v( ._.)v

[soulc-hilde]

Two Halves of a Whole

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Ben x Black! Supe! OFC

Warnings: It's Soldier Boy/The Boys Universe, so there's a list of bullshit like... swearing, slurs, depictions and mentions of sexual acts, depictions and mentions of drug abuse/addiction, negligence to mental trauma/illnesses, mentions of non-consensual acts, depictions and mentions of unethical medical practices, depictions and mentions of government manipulation, etc.

Synopsis: Benjamin. A boy forced into a man by society. A boy in search for praise and acceptance turned into a weapon. Despite the fame and women, hell, drugs, he's believed himself to be alone with no one to vent to -- not like they'd actually listen. Serene was a young girl, a victim, forced to undergo unethical medicinal practices in order to "better" the American people. The same people who lived to see folks like her dead and groveling. The first ever Supes.

prologue | chapter 1 |

"Subject A, dash, 00A1, please state your name and the reason for your donation to science," a monotone voice orders from behind the old camera, his voice echoing off the metal walls.

"My name is Serene Clendon," the young woman introduces herself. "I believe that science can lead a better understanding of the human body and how culture and society affects us. I even believe that this can create an environment that even my future children could thrive in."

The man scoffs, "yeah. Sure. Subject 00A1, stand to your feet." She does, a look of uncertainty drawing across her round features. He continues, "now commence prologue sequence."

Her almond shaped eyes take on a golden hue, illuminating her face hauntingly. Her small, curved figure becomes weightless as she slowly begins to levitate. Arms raising from her sides, golden orbs of energy form within each palm. Underneath her dark skin, a glow of heat begins to pulse as golden veins of power draw across the surface of her skin.

"Beautiful," the man smirks, cutting off the camera. Turning to look over his shoulder, he barks a short order. "Snuff her out and take her to surgery," he steps out of the glowing room.

In pearly white, near heaven resembling, lab laid a young blond -- nearly brunet -- man. His strong, charming features steeled in hopes of preventing his thoughts from being readable. He may have wanted his father's praise, even going as far as joining the war and volunteering for this brand new company.

As they advertised, they were willing to take soldiers who wished to excel the abilities of the average God abiding man and turn him into the God. Of course, such things were nothing more than sweet words in hopes of receiving great cash in exchange for their work. Which makes it smart to offer their services to the military, of all corporations, first.

With hesitance, generals studied and tested their soldiers in search of who could be stupid enough, desperate to put their body through hell and become a scientific toy. Benjamin was one of the nominees and came out the winner. Not like he'd really call himself such.

Especially now as a young woman was wheeled into the same, her body lays limp on the gurney. He watches as the doctors lay her onto the metal table beside him, tediously strapping every limb they could find. He raises an eyebrow at the strange woman.

"What's she doing here?" He asks, turning his gaze to the doctors who avoid meeting his eyes.

Much like they have since he's arrived to the laboratory, they ignore his questions and continue about their tasks. He continues one question after another, "did she also volunteer? I thought this was a program for soldiers only? Did I miss something?"

Dr. Frederick Vought steps into the room, equipped with protective gear. "Don't be outrageous, Benjamin," he softly snorts, "Serene is a volunteer to science. Your success in leading our country to victory lies within her blood."

"I have searched years to find her since her descent to our great world," Frederick rambles on, shuffling through his tools with the purpose to organize them properly for the surgery. "Such a mysterious person. No fool-proof background checks, no social security. Not even a birth certificate. It's as if she never existed."

"Do you know what a mutant is, Benjamin?" He asks. The boy's mouth opens and closes, searching for an answer. The doctor chuckles, "of course not. I forgot, for a moment, just who exactly I was speaking to."

He sighs, "anyways. The race of Negroes have shown great potential as test rats, their resilient bodies and genetics so unlike their European counterparts. If it wasn't for the average negro, we wouldn't have discovered ways to prevent skin cancer or what chemicals in makeup can be harmful and what cannot."

"As much as I'd hate to say it," he shrugs, "they are America's finest, working mule. Be a shame if we were to just kill them all." Benjamin simply shakes his head in response. "Enough with your monologue, doctor, I'd like to get this process done while I'm still young."

Frederick nods, turning away from the two bodies. "Subjects A-00A1 and A-00A2 are ready. Release the hinderance and begin the process." He steps out of the room, muttering, "by tonight, we will make history."

[blarefordaglare]

Fan Joy July day 9

This one’s by @theegh0st

Link: https://www.tumblr.com/theegh0st/754145854541250560/shenanigans?source=share

OH MY GOODNESS those two would most def play cards together! I also love how you emphasize Wind slapping down his card, it’s a beautiful detail that really adds character! Overall the way that the characters poses are fluid is really pleasing to see, and gives personality! I hope you enjoy this fic! 

Also this game reminds me of the game “War” I would play when I was younger (split deck in half, whoever gets all cards wins, there’s more rules on google or smth) so that’s what they’re playing! Also they both cheat, except wind has mischievous cheating legend is more of a card counter type cheating, but obviously you can’t count cards in this game but statistics wise- 

___

“Please Legend!” The youthful, whiney tone of the sailor echoed softly against the damp leaves and the dark, grand, trees, “It’s more fun when you play! I promise I’ll go easy on you!” Wind tugged on the seasoned hero’s calloused hand, yet his feet remained put on the muddy ground. 

Legend inhaled sharply, trying desperately to keep his patience, which was quickly evaporating into the atmosphere, “That’s what I’m worried about,” he fidgeted with the hem of his tunic, the thread coming out and a light rip slowly growing into a hole-he would have to sew that later, “your ‘easy’ is just a glorified cheating.” 

Wind continued to pull, not letting go easily, “Fine! One game-please! It will be fair I promise!” He was borderline desperate at this point, anything to tame the storm of boredom within his mind, “Please! You can’t cheat at war! I promise I won’t switch the cards-you can shuffle!” 

At that point Legend wanted to run, he wanted to yank his arm away and sprint away from that boy as fast as possible, but he was already too far deep, and he could show off his shuffling skills, “…Fine. Ace is high, and no looking at your own cards either. We shuffle after one of us finishes our deck.” 

“Sounds good!” 

Legend split the deck evenly, making sure to include two aces on each side-sure that wasn’t mandatory, but it made things easier for him to keep track of the sailor. He knew he would cheat, after all he did cheat many times before (Legend would never admit it, but he does miss his full wallet.). After successfully splitting the remaining 48 cards, along with shuffling the two decks, the game was ready to commence.

The first round started off smoothly, as the adventurer expected. However, as the game continued, he couldn’t help but notice the grin on Wind’s smile becoming wider and wider, and his pile growing closer and closer to a full deck. 

It was only until Legend and Wind both drew aces at the same time. Currently, Legend knew he had three aces in his deck from previous winnings. He also knew that the three were on the top, so he would be guaranteed a win. It was cheating, he wasn’t supposed to look at his cards, but you can’t trust the adventurer when a game he doesn’t even enjoy gets too intense. Yet, as the two yelled ‘duel’ and slapped down their cards, he was left with the sailor somehow having a second ace. There were only supposed to be four aces in the entire deck, but with Wind having another one, it added up to five.

“Sailor?” Legend’s voice was stern yet inquisitive as he spoke.

“Yes?” 

He tried to keep a straight face, but he couldn’t help but burst out in laughter, “You’re-“ he took a moment to collect himself, “You’re cheating.” 

Wind gasped in mock surprise, “Am not!” The wavering in his voice exposed the feigned innocence, “I promised I wouldn’t!” 

Legend took the two aces from the sailor, then exposing his own three, “The numbers don’t lie, Wind.” With a look of pure mischief, he grabbed a large handful of dirt from the ground, “And you know what happens to cheaters?” 

“No!” Wind shrieked, trying to scramble away as the dark earth was rubbed into his pale blonde hair, “Stop! No! Help! My hair is being murdered!” 

“Then maybe next time don’t cheat.” the adventurer got up, admiring his revenge, “Now excuse me, but I have a tunic to mend.” 

[soulessjourney]

Ashes of Panem

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Paring: (young) Coriolanus x Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Summary: Coriolanus Snow and Y/N Ashcroft had trained together since their entry into the academy. However, when their names were drawn, they found themselves pitted against each other and twenty other children in these games. As Y/N became a symbol of rebellion akin to her great grandmother, who vanished shortly after Panem's liberation, the looming threats of war and the approaching games forced Coriolanus and Y/N to forge an alliance. Amidst these challenges, they had to learn to trust and support one another in order to break free from Coin's oppressive regime.

Warnings: None

A/N: Eat up kids, this is girl dinner and my best friend helped me deicde what course of action to take at the end. She's a long one but I hope this feeds you until I can plot how the next couple of drafts will go.

Selection day—the one day of the year that turned into everyone’s personal hell. With the recent changes, you found yourself wearing a knee-length red velvet dress that stopped just below your knees, its collar reaching midway up your neck. One perk was that it had pockets, one of the best inventions for a dress. Your hair cascaded in soft curls, its length falling over your shoulders, stopping just below your shoulder blades.

Navigating through the dense crowd, you moved towards the outskirts, finding solace just off to the side. The conversations with the various district representatives had grown tiresome, feeling more like you were selling yourself rather than seeking aid to stay alive. It left you feeling sick, as if you were begging these people to save you, a sensation that made you feel as pathetic as you appeared.

Startled, you jumped when a glass came into view right in front of your face. Following the hand holding it, you relaxed at the sight of Coriolanus. Despite your indifference for him, you were relieved it was him and not another district official. “You look like you’re about to pass out, drink some water,” he urged, offering the glass again, smiling as you took it. “You look beautiful, by the way. I haven’t had the chance to tell you that tonight.”

“You ditched me the moment we walked in here, Snow. Also, you’re not one for giving out compliments, so what do you want?” you questioned, raising a brow. It was a fact—he didn't usually dole out compliments unless there was something he wanted or someone he wanted to involve in some scheme, and you suspected it wasn’t the latter.

“I don’t want anything. I just enjoy being right. Red is definitely your color, Snowflake. It brings out those eyes of yours,” he shrugged, taking a sip from his glass. “I saw how you were earlier, looking as if you wanted to tear their heads off their shoulders when they tried to touch you,” he continued, drawing your attention back to him. “I won’t let them hurt you, Snowflake. They’d be foolish to even try,” he said, smiling down at you. A blush dusted your cheeks, prompting you to awkwardly turn away from him in an attempt to hide it.

Before you could respond, the Capital anthem started playing through the speakers, signaling the arrival of Cassius Coin, President Coin’s grandson. He walked forward, reaching the end of the balcony that overlooked the room. Soft claps welcomed him, though your classmates appeared mildly annoyed, preferring to be fighting in the arena than standing here in that moment. Raising his hands, Cassius silenced the room, commencing the same speech he gave every year.

“Good evening, students and representatives from the districts. I hope you've been enjoying your evening thus far. As we all know, this is an important evening marking the seventieth year of the Capital Games. Selection night holds historical significance. Many may perceive it as a punishment when, in fact, it is quite the opposite. This is an opportunity for all of you to display your loyalty to New Panem by entering the arena, striving to emerge victorious. In this new world, we've learned that only the strong can survive,” Cassius declared.

Beside you, Coriolanus scoffed. “This has to be the most morbid thing I've ever heard,” he muttered, keeping his gaze forward. Sensing your confusion, he continued, “Saying we should be happy to meet our deaths, I mean. We’ve proven our loyalty throughout our time in this academy, so why do only the games matter?” he grumbled, shifting his gaze down to you. “Some of us don’t deserve this fate,” he whispered, his eyes fixed on yours.

"Now, it is time to announce our selected students for this year's games," Cassius announced loudly. "I would like to start by unveiling a new change. As of this year, we will not be drawing names," he declared, as the screens on either side of him illuminated with a list of twenty-two names. Your heart skipped a beat, and Coriolanus drew in a deep breath. Somewhere off to the side, a cry echoed through the room. It was your class rankings, precisely in the order displayed after your evaluations. "Congratulations to those of you who fought for these spots and demonstrated your loyalty to the Capital!" Cassius shouted enthusiastically.

The glass you held slipped from your grasp and crashed to the ground, the shards pooling around your feet and cutting into your ankles. Stumbling back, the world began to spin, and bile surged up your throat. Coriolanus reached out, but you brushed him off, staggering out of the room and down the hall. Flinging the doors open at the hall's entrance, you fell to your knees, retching into the nearby bushes. Footsteps hurried toward you, but you ignored them. Your breathing became rapid, struggling to draw air into your lungs. It felt like you were suffocating, an inability to fill your lungs.

Someone attempted to speak to you, but the words sounded muffled, lost amidst the ringing in your ears. Clutching at your chest, you felt your heart racing. Tears streamed down your face, unnoticed in your frenzy. Cool hands cupped your cheeks, forcing your gaze upward to meet Coriolanus's blue eyes, ones you usually avoided. His lips moved, but the words eluded you, drowned out by ringing in your head. Covering your mouth, you retched again, feeling his hands soothingly pat your back and brush your hair away.

Sitting up, you found Coriolanus gently holding your face, his touch a stark contrast to his usual impatience. "Focus on me, Y/N. Just focus on me," he urged softly, locking eyes with yours.

Coriolanus was hardly known for his patience, but his demeanor now surprised you. In the academy, he exhibited a short temper, particularly when things didn't align with his desires. But this was different. He wasn't berating you for crying or falling apart. Seeking answers in his gaze, he enveloped you in a tight embrace, anchoring you in his arms. "You're going to be okay, Snowflake. Everything's going to be okay," he whispered. As your sobs gradually eased, he pulled away and peered at you, a faint smile gracing his lips. "There you are."

Wiping away your tears and streaked eyeliner, he cupped your cheeks. "Here's the plan, Snowflake. We'll go back in there and present ourselves to the districts," he said, anticipating your disagreement. "No, listen. We'll act as they expect us to—like the puppets they want us to be. We'll interact with the representatives together and aim for District One or Two. They have more resources. Fix your makeup, and meet me back in the hall. Understood?" He pressed, his thumb tracing your jawline, awaiting your response. When you hesitated, he shook you gently and repeated, "Understood?"

Unable to trust your voice, you nodded in agreement, observing the relieved smile that graced his face. "Good, that's good. Freshen up, and I'll be waiting inside for you," Coriolanus said before making his way back into the building, leaving you sitting there, feeling the cool air nip at your nose and cheeks.

---

It took you less than twenty minutes to freshen up your appearance before returning to the hall. Students conversed among themselves, their attention fixed on the screens displaying your class ranks. The sight itself made you queasy. In the frenzy of those destined for the games fighting for representatives' attention, the crowd parted, in a way that reminded you of those novels you read when you were younger, revealing Coriolanus making his way toward you, his gaze unwaveringly locked on you.

Coriolanus halted in front of you, his blue eyes briefly scanning the area behind you. Extending his arm, he looked at you, pressing his lips into a thin line. "Follow my lead, Snowflake. You'll need to act that little heart out," he said, wearing a broad smile as he approached two figures. "Mr. Larue, this is my girlfriend Y/N, whom I mentioned earlier," he announced. Girlfriend? You weren't sure if he was joking, delusional, or both, because clearly, you missed something between the time he left you outside and your return to the hall.

"Ah, Y/N, you're just as beautiful as he described. What are the odds that you're both paired together for this year's games?" the older gentleman remarked, appearing no older than 70. His frail skin and patchy white hair gave him a delicate appearance. "Mr. Snow mentioned your admiration for District One, and I must say, it's refreshing to hear someone who knows her stuff," he continued, flashing overly white teeth.

Chewing on your lip, you glanced up at Coriolanus, who waited for you to falter in the act he had imposed on you. "Well, Mr. Larue, I didn’t know my boyfriend decided to boast about my interests, but he's right. I do admire what your district stands for. It would be an honor to have your sponsorship, demonstrating not only my loyalty to the capital but also my appreciation for your work," you responded, eliciting a proud smile from Mr. Larue.

He let out a laugh and gently patted Coriolanus' arm. "You have quite the charmer here, Mr. Snow. She's a keeper. It's almost a shame that I have to watch such a lovely couple fight in the arena," he said, frowning, just as Coriolanus chuckled, a sound you'd do anything to hear again.

"I suppose we'll have to show you just how powerful our alliance is," Coriolanus said, reaching over with his free hand to squeeze your hand resting on his arm. He looked down at you, his gaze soft along with his smile. Anyone who didn't know him would think that he was in love with you, and honestly? He almost had you convinced. "I'll give you time to think it over, Mr. Larue. Meanwhile, how about a dance, Y/N? Why not enjoy what time we may have left together with something so intimate?" he asked.

You felt your brow twitch at his words. He was overdoing it with that final phrase, but it seemed like the older gentleman was utterly captivated by Coriolanus' words. "A dance sounds amazing. If you'll excuse us," you said, turning to give Mr. Larue a respectful nod before walking off with Coriolanus in tow. "Out of all the things to make me do, you went for the idea of having me be your girlfriend?" you snapped your head to look at him.

Coriolanus shrugged, a smug smile on his face. "I want to do the most if we're going to our deaths," he said simply, causing your jaw to drop. Pulling you onto the dance floor, he placed a hand on the small of your back and gently held your hand. "Close your mouth, Snowflake. It's unbecoming for a lady to stand with her mouth open," he teased, earning him a scoff in response. Placing your hand on his shoulder, the two of you began to move around the dance floor with the other pairs.

"I won't let you die in there, Y/N. I will do everything in my power to make sure that we make it out alive. I heard rumors that they'll let two of us live as long as it's two individuals of the same pair," he murmured, lowering his head to speak near your ear. "I won't be letting you out of my sight for a second anymore."

Rolling your eyes, you caught sight of other district officials watching both of you. Now you knew why he wanted you to wear red so badly. You two stuck out like a sore thumb against the other students who wore black or white. Coriolanus knew how to play the game, and he would ensure that both of you won.

---

After what felt like hours, the gala came to an end, leaving you utterly exhausted. You and Coriolanus managed to secure a sponsor from District One after winning over Mr. Larue with your act. Rolling back your shoulders, you turned your head to gaze out the window. Snow had begun to fall, lining the sidewalks in a soft sheet of flakes. You turned when the material of a jacket rested on your shoulders, and Coriolanus looked down at you with tired eyes.

"Coryo, it's cold out, you need your jacket." You hadn't even noticed the nickname that slipped from your lips, but he did. He was well aware of what you called him, and he loved it.

"You're going to need it more, that dress will do nothing to protect you from the cold," he remarked, moving to lean against the wall next to you, watching the snow fall outside. "Things are going to be hard from here on out. We have to learn how to trust one another, especially if we're paired to keep one another alive for as long as possible."

"You haven't necessarily given me a reason to trust you, Snow. You don't exactly make it easy," you said, tensing when he looked at you, his gaze piercing your soul. He raised his brows in question, prompting you to continue. "You're not exactly the talkative type, and if you are, it's only because you want something from me. So, how can I trust someone who only sees me when they want something from me?" You pulled his coat tighter around you, seeking some solace from his penetrating stare.

"I've always seen you, Y/N. Don't think for a second that I haven't seen you because I have. In fact, it's almost annoying how much I see you," he replied. It was your turn to raise your brows. "It doesn't matter. Why don't we head back? It's getting late, and I doubt that your parents want you out too late. Come on, I'll walk you home."

The both of you walked out of the building, with you trailing slightly behind him. Coriolanus Snow was a mystery to you. From his words to his actions, you couldn't make sense of him. You wanted to demand that he make up his mind about how he treated you, but you knew it wouldn't lead anywhere.

Quickening your pace, you moved to catch up with him. "If you want me to learn how to trust you, then tell me about you. What makes you Coriolanus Snow?" you asked. You could see his jaw clench as he contemplated how to respond. Coriolanus was always one to talk, except when it was about himself. He often reminded you of a captivating but complex book that was hard to read. You refused to put down his book; you wanted to learn about him, to understand his character, and establishing trust was the first step. "In return, I'll tell you my deepest, darkest secret," you teased, nudging his shoulder in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Is there something that defines who I am?" he asked, though it sounded more like a question directed at himself. "Sometimes, I find myself pretending to be someone I'm not," he began. "At the academy and even when I'm with you, I feel compelled to embody this controlled and calculated persona. I refrain from revealing my true self because I fear you might flee. This facade I wear keeps me in good standing at the academy and in proximity to you. It keeps me close enough so that I never have to worry." His words sent a chill through you. They carried an air of possession.

"Snow, you won't scare me away. It takes more than a facade to scare me off. We're being trained to fight to the death against twenty other children; I believe I can handle occasional outbursts from you." You attempted a reassuring smile, but he abruptly halted, turning to gaze at you.

"You don't get it, Snowflake. I don't wish to share you with anyone else. You kept yourself distant from others out of fear of loss. Knowing that made me content, content in the knowledge that no one else stood by your side to snatch you away," he whispered, leaning in until his breath nearly met yours. "I want to shield you from the world, from the games where no one can have you." His confession widened your eyes, prompting a step back as you struggled to comprehend his words.

Clearing your throat, you shook your head, observing your breath forming mist in the cold air. "That's not what you want, Snow. Trust me. You won't find happiness with me. In fact, if you knew the concealed parts of me, you'd be the one fleeing." You noticed a spark in his eyes, perhaps a reflection of the shared darkness within both of you, fighting to break free.

Just as you near the gate leading to your home, Coriolanus seized your wrist, halting your movement. "Why do you hide from me, Snowflake? You want me to see you, so why keep yourself hidden? I can't see you if you won't let me." He drew you closer, his hand caressing your cheek, the warmth contrasting with his cold touch. He exuded warmth, emitting a scent of roses that intoxicated. Interpreting your silence as an answer, he leaned down, lightly brushing his lips against your forehead before retracting, his thumb grazing your lips.

Stepping away, you retreated and closed the gate behind you. Turning to glance at him from the other side, you noticed how he stood taller, his curls framing his eyes. Snowflakes fell on his eyelashes, accentuating the rosy hue on his cheeks due to the wintry air. "I hide because I'm nothing but poison, Coriolanus. Poison you shouldn't get entangled with. I'd do more harm than good, so don't be greedy and try a taste. You'll only end up hurting yourself in the end," you stated, casting one final glance before pivoting on your heel and entering your home.

Tags:@notyourwildestdream

[runawaymac]

i love your art so much!! can you tell more about your disrepair au because those designs are just super duper cool, i love your use of colors and shockwaves cape thing with his threads its just so cool and creative!!!

Hi, I’m glad you like my art! 

Also surprised that someone asked about Disrepair.

Alright,

so in Disrepair it kinda starts like IDW; there was functionalism and then there was Megatron. Megatron goes from minor to gladiator to revolutionary leader, shit happens, and war erupts. 

Much later, the Galactic Council finally listens to the millions of complaints about mechanical beings coming and battling for their planet and shadowban Cybertron (basically they envelop it in a forcefield which cuts out any and all communications with the outside universe). No one immediately notices the blackout because they’re too focused on the fact that Cybertron is growing strange sentient tentacles that grab you and suck out your energon. The planet is dying and it’s taking its inhabitants life juice to stay alive another day.

The planet is becoming too violent, so the Autobots load onto two Ark’s and attempt to leave. They slam into the forcefield and crash.

Commence the feralization of everyone at the realization they can’t leave or contact those offworld.

Resources are very low and morale is lower. Cannibalism is popular, the Autobot’s are in shambles while the Decepticon’s are faring a bit better… I really need to fine tune some things (and develop the story and character lore a bit more), but there’s the gist of it. Here’s a little bit on Shockwave: He was a senator before the war and funded gladiatorial combat, where he met Soundwave and they fell in love. Shockwave gets caught funding these gruesome games and he undergoes Empurata. To make things worse, Soundwave, Ravage, Buzzsaw, Laserbeak, Ratbat, and Howlback also get Empurata'd. One eye family ♥ ️ Frenzy and Rumble are normal, though.

*some things have changed

[cats-of-eden-valley]

Laws of Eden

The Law of Mothers and Fathers

Mothers

A mother need not share the name of her litter's sire.

A mother must choose a sire from a coalition of opposing prides, to keep the blood clean and refreshed.

A mother may take a mate from a coalition, but their mateship will only be recognized is he joins the pride.

A mother is restricted to a maximum of two litters, barring tragic loss.

Fathers

During the Sleeping Year, toms must leave the Valley to allow their pride enough resources to survive the scarce year.

Toms may choose to remain in the Valley, especially if they are weak in body, mind, or spirit. They must swear to a bond of celibacy in order to do so.

Coalition toms may stay with their home pride with permission of the matrons, often to help their family. They must swear to a bond of celibacy in order to do so.

Coalition toms may also choose to join the pride of their mate.  They do not need to be celibate, but may not return to their pride of birth.

A tom is restricted to a maximum of two litters.

Toms must never speak of the lands that the coalitions travel.

Toms may never enter the nursery.

Toms are forbidden from participating in battle.

-----

The Law of the Hunt

Prey should be killed quickly, to reduce suffering as much as possible.

Trapping is dishonorable and cruel; prey should not be snared and left in fear for sake of the hunter's ease.

When prey is killed, it must be groomed and cleaned before brought to Holt.

All prey have a piece of themself that must be returned to the earth with proper ceremony.

Signs and songs must be read and studied thoroughly before a hunt.

When prey has sickened enough to lag the herd, it is part of the natural cycle to take that animal's life. Though difficult to separate from their family, the herd becomes all the stronger, and the creature's final act will be to re-join the circle and feed the pride.

A raided nest should be left at half; it is dishonourable to take all.

A carcass found must be treated with caution.

-----

The Law of War

War can only be declared if two of three matrons, and a worthy chunk of the pride, support it.

A pride cat may never use a blade or weapon on another pride cat.

Murder is for the lawless. A beat opponent is more important than a dead opponent. Murderers can be tried in court during a Trading.

Battle may be conducted under certain circumstances: When another pride is caught stealing prey, herb, or stone from a holt or marked territory; under insult from another pride; when battle is initiated by another party; and unexplained trespass into marked territory (territory that is close enough to a pride's holt that signs of that pride can be seen).

When patrols meet to collect from the same resource on open territory, battle may commence if the resource is scarce/cannot be shared/etc.

All war must cease on the Close-eyes, when the Moons enforce peace and Tradings occur.

Marked Territory is territory where a pride's presence can be felt, with indicators ranging from colourful ties to scent markings to claw strikes on trunks to painted walls.

Open Territory is where pride ranges overlap. While the prides don't go out of their way to mingle, shifting ranges and need for resources can cause conflict.

No matter how bitterly war may rage, a pride may never be fully driven from their territory.

-----

The Law of Matrons

A tom cannot be a matron.

In order to fulfill the responsibilities of a Matron, a molly must have at least one litter raised to 'paws.

A Matron must have trained a 'paw to be considered for Speaker.

If a Matron dies, an heir (normally her eldest daughter) will take her place. If there is no heir, another family will take up the spot. If an heir has not met the requirements of matronhood, the pride must choose whether to wait or to replace.

No two discussions of matronhood, inheritence, and death are the same.

Even in the event of ordinary succession, healers and tellers of the pride should be consulted, and signs from the ancestors should be read.

A matron must be able to extend her motherhood beyond her children to the pride itself. A matron is a teacher, a mother, a leader, and a soother all wrapped in one.

The Speaker is decided between the matrons. The Speaker must be capable of taking command during emergencies, speaking to the pride as a whole, and representing the pride and its interests when addressing other cats.

[cryptictongues]

Garnet Kisses

pairing: Barnabas Tharmr x Reader rating: Explicit (MINORS DNI; 18+) word count: 4.6K summary: You and Barnabas commence your newfound union with a blood oath.

warnings: BLOOD PLAY (like a lot), rituals, knifeplay, spit kink, possessive behavior, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, choking, squirting, overstimulation, religious themes

This is a work of fiction. Understand that what happens in this fic can be dangerous if performed in real life. This oath was created entirely by me, but there are blood oaths that are considered forbidden to be used by certain groups of people.

Also, if blood is not your thing, be wary. This fic has A LOT of blood play, blood consumption, etc.

[AO3 link]

All little girls dream about finding their prince. They hope to find a man that will sweep them off their feet, protect them from the ways of the world, and cherish them for all time. They dream of wearing beautiful gowns as their knight and shining armor holds them close, whispering more sweet dreams into their ears. They dream of lavish ceremonies that symbolize love and joy. They dream of starting families with a man that makes their heart race no matter how much time has passed. You know this because you were a little girl once, only while most end up not getting close to their fairy tale end, you got all that and more because of the man you now found yourself at the altar with: Barnabas Tharmr.

You and Barnabas have known each other for years. The two of you grew up together in a small religious clan: followers of the Circle of Malius. With both of you being descendants of the Children of the Dzemekys, the religious teachings and ways of your culture came easily. You both believed that leading the path for your Lord was destiny, and with those morals in line with one another, it wasn’t hard for you to fall in love with him and vice versa.

You’ve been one of his biggest supporters. Ever since the brutal killing of his mother and the awakening of his unique Eikon, he was on the war hungry path of conquering Ash and bringing it back to its former glory. There would be many nights where he would come home to you, ravished in the blood from those who stood in his way, looking like an absolute maniac. You loved the sharp look in his eyes, and it made your nether regions quiver with the need to clean him with your tongue. Greedy little thing , he would say and would fuck you like no tomorrow wherever he desired.

Everything fell into its rightful place once he conquered Veldemarke, the last bastion of Ash. You remember that day fondly, as he had promised you the day the Kingdom of Waloed was established was the day you would become his queen. And so here you both are, at the altar of the grand hall of your new Kingdom, finishing your vows amongst a small audience. You both wear black wedding attire, you in a beautiful black gown with a veil trailing far back and him in a special black tunic with dark blue embroidery. You both have your rings, simple yet elegant silver bands decorating you and your beloved’s ring fingers. As he finishes his vows, it is pronounced that you are both husband and wife, king and queen. The audience kneels before you two, and Barnabas takes that time to press his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. You’ve dreamed of this day, yet not for the reasons the Waloedian audiences would expect. 

“Are you ready to depart for our own ceremony, my dear?” Barnabas whispers in your ear, a shiver running down your spin for what’s to come. You nod, and with that the two of you take your leave to the Tower of Reverie, where you two will commence in a ceremony in the sanctuary of your Lord.

You could have cared less for a wedding ceremony, but Barnabas insisted it would be wise to do so in order to make appearances. It is vital that the people of our newfound Kingdom know who they bow before, he would say with the promise that anyone who disrespects you will face the consequences of his blade. He agreed, however, that the wedding has no real meaning because regular wedding ceremonies aren’t a concept within the Circle of Malius. The religious ceremony you both shall partake in was something much more intimate, a ceremony in which to be bound is through blood and blood alone.

You both ride in silence, reflecting on what is to come. It takes no time to make it to the tower’s steps and into the intricate lift. The anticipation of partaking in a ceremony used by your ancestors with the one you love has you vibrating in Barnabas’s arms, causing him to hum at your excitement. “Someone’s exhilarated, hm?”

“How can I not be?” You chuckle. “Are you not?”

“Oh, my heart,” he nips at your neck, a gasp leaving your mouth as he pulls you closer to him. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this day.”

The lift halts, signaling your arrival. The two of you walk hand in hand, and Barnabas places his hand on the door to the entryway, letting the magick course through as it opens up. You both walk in, and what you see leaves you in awe. 

You’ve been here plenty of times. You and Barnabas come here once every few days to worship Lord Ultima, bowing before the giant statue created in His Name. However, you see candles at the top of the steps that lead to the statue, and as he leads you closer to the spot the ceremony shall take place, you see they form a circle. In the middle of the circle lies a box, which you are well aware of its contents. 

Barnabas’ is right behind you, his breath heavy on the back of your neck as his excitement starts to rise. He slowly removes your black veil, the weight of its trail no longer present as he tosses it behind him. His hands trace the buttons on the back of your gown, making you antsy as you wait for his instructions. 

“I could just tear your gown to shreds,” he growls, fingers pulling at the buttons lightly. “But I shall savor this moment.”

He starts to unbutton your garment, kissing the exposed skin of your back as more becomes exposed. The last buttons become undone, your back fully on display for him. His warm hands run themselves along it, diverging to each shoulder to push the sleeves down your arms until the garment pools to your feet. “Beautiful,” he mutters, before tugging your knickers down. He stands back up, walking in front of you only to kneel again. “Grasp my shoulders.” 

You do as you are told and watch as he helps lift each leg to tug off your shoes. Once they are off, you are completely bare before him. He takes a step back, admiring your form before taking your hands and placing them on the belt securing his trousers. “Undress me, my dear.”

You start at his belt, unbuckling it before pulling his trousers down. You do as he did; kissing the rough skin as it became exposed. Just as he did you, you remove his shoes to set them aside. You kiss your way back up, giving his cock a little kiss causing him to groan. “You are quite the minx.”

You grab at the belt on his waist, humming as you unclasp it from his waist. “Yeah? Well, I am the minx you chose to marry.” 

With the waist belt done away, you lift his tunic from his body, revealing his toned yet scarred body. You can’t help but stare; no matter how many times you’ve laid witness to it, it is still the body of your beloved. Every viewing is as delicious as the last.

He takes hold of your hand, leading you to the circle of candles and making sure you step over them carefully so as to not burn yourself. He guides you to your spot, and you assume the position to kneel. Barnabas moves to mirror you, the box now in between the two of you. He reaches for it, opening it to pull out the tool you both will be using for the ceremony: a dagger with a short, dark metal blade and a handle decorated in black and red binding.

“This is the dagger our people used long ago.” Barnabas states. “My mother passed it onto me before her passing.”

“She knew we would go through this eventually.” You bring your hand to his thigh, rubbing up and down to soothe him. Anytime he brings up his mother, it's unfortunately a painful reminder. 

“That she did.” He smiles, placing his free hand over yours, the dagger in his other. “Shall we proceed with our ceremony, my queen ?”

“Yes, my king, ” you draw out, ready to claim him fully as he is with you. You have waited for this moment for so long. You had studied this ceremony for years, preparing for the day you get to go through with it. It has become muscle memory from how many times you’ve gone over the process; the oath ingrained in your brain from reading the words over and over. You were ready to fully commit to the man before you once and for all.

“Grant me your hands, my dear. Palms up.” He says, and you display your palms. Barnabas grins, an eagerness in his eyes as he gently holds your left hand. The blade touches your thumb, and then digs in only enough to draw blood before bringing it down across the thenar. He stops just above your wrist, and does the same to your other palm, blood pooling in your hands as he finishes. The pain is soothing. It’s dull from the adrenaline running through your veins. The blood is warm in your palms, and all you want is to paint Barnabas’ skin.

He presents the blade to your mouth, smirking as he watches you. “Stick your tongue out.”

You do as you’re told, and he places the cool steel on your warm tongue. He drags the dull face down, a soft moan leaving your throat at the taste of your own blood. “So obedient,” he murmurs, flipping the blade to do the same with the other side, ensuring the blood is completely cleansed before he uses it on himself. From your religious teachings, the blade is to never mix blood, for it can only connect once the ritual starts. 

He takes the clean blade, shining with your spit, and cuts his palms with the same precision and depth. Once finished, he licks the blade clean as you did and sets it down on top of the box. He pushes it to the side with the back of his hand, and then settles his hands on his thighs, palms upward.

“My dear, are you ready? Do I need to go over anything before we commence?” Barnabas asks, being patient only ever for you, even when the glint in his eyes is sharp and lethal.

“I’m ready,” you say. “I’m ready to give myself fully to you.”

“Then let’s commence,” he holds his hands up, blood traveling down his palms. You bring your palms up at level with his, and slowly you both connect your palms, fingers intertwining. Your blood mixes with his, warming it back up as each other’s palms press together. You two stay there for a moment, letting your blood and his meld together in perfect harmony. 

“For thou blood has mended, let us take our oath.” Barnabas speaks, nothing but authority in his voice. He has always been a serious man, but this was different. This seriousness is untamed, the control lacking in his usual demeanor. You can see his urge to take you on the stone of the sanctuary, but you know he won’t. He has waited for this moment as long as you have. He wouldn’t dare ruin this moment. 

His eyes bore into yours, taking a breath before his lips start to move. “I, Barnabas Tharmr, take this oath by blood as a decree to bind myself to you for all eternity.” He releases your right clasped hand, the blood dripping onto the stone beneath you both. “Through mind,” he brings his thumb to your forehead and smears a mix of his and your blood slowly as he continues reciting the oath. “Body,” his hand travels to your tummy, blood blooming on the skin with his touch. “And soul,” his hand is now at your heart, marking you once more with the deep red that continues to seep from his flesh. His hand returns to your hand as he says the last bit of the declaration. “I submit myself to you, and may death punish me if I part.”

Barnabas reclasps, signaling it is your turn to recite the oath. You repeat his actions, rubbing the blood mixture onto the same spots he had on you. Seeing him with red on his skin makes you restless, wanting so badly to lick it off. You bring your hand back to his, the oath out in the open. 

Once your hand reclasps, Barnabas squeezes your hands as a way of saying you did well, a genuine smile on his face mirroring yours. “For thou oath has spoken, let us conclude thy ceremony with the blood seal.” 

The blood seal is not a seal, but an act; the last act of the ceremony to seal the bond. You tilt your head back, ready for the final piece, and open your mouth with your tongue out. You see Barnabas do the same, and you both unclasp your hands, bringing mirroring hands towards each other. Both of you have a fist hovering over your tongues, and simultaneously you both squeeze, letting the blood flow. The metallic tang fills your senses, and your nostrils flare. For all the times you’ve tasted the blood on your lover's war ridden body, tasting from the source sends your mind reeling and makes your cunt whimper.

After the time you are supposed to let the blood flow, you both drop your hands. The look Barnabas is giving you tells you that your blood is having the same effect on him; his pupils big enough to make the blue of his eyes vanish. You both reconnect hands, and lean forward, your mouths connecting in an open mouth kiss. Barnabas grunts into your mouth, your tongue playing with his as both of your blood mixes, concocting a flavor one could get drunk on. 

You want to let go of his hands so you can get closer to him, but you must be patient. All you can think is once this is over, you and him will be bound for all eternity. You will be him and he will be you; one cannot go on without the other. To know this man is yours and cannot part from you without consequence makes you smile. He is yours forever.

Suddenly, you feel a shift inside of you. It’s as if you can feel more than just your body’s function. Instead of one heart, you hear two. Instead of two lungs, you breathe through four. As the oath commands, you two are mended in every way two people could be. This is heaven, you think. This is what it’s like to be reborn. 

Barnabas releases your lips first, pulling back with fierce eyes. You feel hypnotized, not being able to look away from him. A smirk eases its way onto his face, curling into a smile as he starts to wind up. A laugh bubbles from his mouth, growing louder and louder as it turns manic. You can’t help but join him, laughs blooming from your chest. His hands come to your cheeks, leaning towards you so his forehead leans against your own. He continues to laugh, giving you time to place your own bloodied hands onto his cheeks. 

“Finally,” he says, placing a sloppy, bloody kiss against your lips. “Finally, you are mine. All mine!”

He continues his assault on your mouth, making your laughing halt as he gets closer, with him almost hovering over you. You gasp between kisses, as he barely gives you anytime to breathe before he attacks your now garnet lips once more. “Darling,” you say, completely breathless. “I’ve always been yours.”

“Yes, however,” he pushes you on your back, hovering over you looking absolutely debauched with his face covered in your blood. “You are bound to me. You are mine forever , my dear.” He licks your lips, only to let his tongue travel from your cheek to your ear. “You are forbidden to leave me.”

His mouth leaves open-mouth kisses down your body, leaving a path of bloody marks in his wake. You feel your nether regions grow wet, the display of affection before you doing something completely depraved to your body. The image of your beloved, blood covering multiple parts of his body, creating more art on your own makes you shake with need. The need for him to claim you officially in this new bond you two share makes you let out a whine, which only causes Barnabas to let out a sadistic chuckle.

“Don’t worry, my heart.” He murmurs, his lips lingering right above your sensitive pearl. “You’ll be begging for me soon enough.”

You sit up with your elbows, the stone digging into them without a care, and watch as Barnabas lets his tongue feather with your lips, teasing you enough to make you whimper at his actions. You lift your foot and place the heel on his back, pushing him forward so he can consume you. His hand smacks your thigh, leaving a bloody handprint as a reminder. You groan, needing him to do something to soothe the ache that has built between your legs, which only causes him to chuckle at your neediness. “Good things come to those who wait, precious one.”

The hand he smacked you with grips your hip, his arm hooking your leg over his shoulder. His other hand places itself firmly onto your stomach, pressing down to ensure you move as little as possible. “However, our Lord has blessed you because my patience has waned, and I am starving.”  

He goes right to your clit, sucking gently, causing you to fall back in an arch. You feel your cunt clench and unclench, letting your gold leak from your hole and being ever so close to hitting the floor. Barnabas has none of that, his tongue snaking down to capture the nectar before attending to your clit again. You try to lift your head, seeing the brutal stare he gives you, before he smacks your thigh again causing your head to fall back down.

“That’s it,” he growls. “Take the pleasure I’m giving you as our Lord watches over us.” 

Your eyes fall onto the statue of Lord Ultima, shivering more at the thought of Him watching your newfound communion. The stone voyeur observes every hitch in your breath and every shake in your thighs as Barnabas devours your essence. It adds to the pressure in your abdomen, and a delusion whispers in your ear to release for Him and him, causing an explosion of light behind your eyes. You scream as the flood of your release consumes you, your nails scraping against the stone below. 

You hear and feel Barnabas grunting into your cunt, a wildness in his movements taking over as you wither in bliss. The stimulation is overwhelming, and words bubble from your red stained mouth as your legs start to thrash. Barnabas was having none of it, scooting closer so your hips were in the air as he held you down tightly. This new angle gave you no choice but to look at him and his tongue, performing magick that has your hands making purchase on his knees with nails digging to the point of drawing blood. This, of course, did not deter him in the slightest. The atmosphere he is in is an energy he thrives on, and you know nothing makes his cock harder than seeing you so mindless. 

You release again, crying out as he keeps you steady in his bruising grip. The amount of essence coming out of you is felt, leaving trails down your ass to your back. He slows down, yet you continue to whimper as his tongue caresses your sensitive pearl. “My darling,” you cry out. “I beg of you!”

He hums and releases you. He crawls back on top of you, bringing himself down to kiss you. It is through this kiss you understand his hunger, the mixture of blood and your nectar creating a taste so divine that you find your tongue licking every crevice of his mouth. He releases your mouth, smirking at your eagerness before caressing your face, leaving more blood from his palm. “Our Lord has truly gifted you with the taste of an angel, precious one.” 

“Yes, He has,” you purr, before letting your hand go to his hair and yanking his head back. “But that isn’t the only thing He has granted me.”

You take his surprise and flip yourselves over. You straddle him with one hand still fisted in his hair and the other going to his throat. You bring your mouth back to his, and slowly let your hips move so your cunt grinds against his erection. He moans sinfully into your mouth, his hands coming to your hips to guide you along. You let yourself move all the way until the tip kisses your clit and back down, whimpering every time they make contact with each other. You are riled up again, and all you want is to sink down onto your lover until you are one. 

You let go of him and sit up, tilting your head down to let your saliva, now pink from the dilution of the blood, drip down onto his tip. Barnabas curses, his head falling back making you grin. You grab his cock and align yourself, sliding down until you are full of him. Your hands lay claim on his chest to position yourself, and you start to slowly lift your hips, only to slam back down. You repeat the cycle, your hips having a mind of its own as you work your pace with Barnabas releasing a deep sigh every now and then. 

You admire him from above. He is the most beautiful and divine being you have ever seen, especially with him taking what you give him. But even more so, the blood that covers his body makes him irresistible. Anytime he would come home covered in the blood of the enemy, it made you weak in the knees and sink into submission; the urge to clean him off and seduce him a strong conscience. But this, him covered in your blood, the very essence of your being, makes you feel powerful and strong. You suspect it could be the bond, but at this moment it didn’t matter. The feeling makes you want to devour him.

You lean over him, continuing to ride him as you start to lick the blood off his chest where your hands were. You make your way to his throat where your hand once laid, sucking and nipping as you lick the rough skin. Barnabas growls, his hand weaving into your hair as he pulls your head back making you yelp in surprise. He pulls your face to his, his free hand taking your jaw with a tight grip. “Give it to me,” he snarls. “Give me what you’ve collected.”

He squeezes your jaw, and you gather all you can muster and open your mouth. Your red saliva falls onto his awaiting tongue, and the sight makes you rock faster on his cock. He closes his mouth and swallows, laughing as he starts to rock up into you. “You revel in this? You revel in my consumption of your blood, hm?”

“Yes,” you mewled, meeting his quick thrusts. 

“You revel in my war-torn body? The one you’ve completely painted in your life force?” He continues, his grip in your hair tightening. “You are a greedy little thing.”

You laugh, the tinge of pain from your scalp and the pounding of your cunt driving you to be hysterical. “I’m your greedy little thing, my darling.”

“That you are, my dear.” He snickers. “Now, be greedy once more and keep taking me.”

He lets go of you, allowing you to sit up again. He halts his actions, letting you take the reins to take what is yours. You move so you're on the balls of your feet, squatting over him with his cock still inside of you. Your hands reach out for his, and he holds onto them. Using your lower body strength, you start to bounce on his cock with all the energy you can gather. 

Your moans echo throughout the sanctuary, chants leaving your lips. His cock is hitting all the right spots in this position, and even though it makes you weak in the knees, you tread on. You feel Barnabas twitch inside of you, so close to his end just as you are. It brings you much joy to know that your cunt alone can bring him to his ruin. Although, a little help doesn’t hurt.

You let go of his hands, collapsing back to your knees to bear your weight, and let your hand go to his throat once more. Your thumb and pointer finger squeeze gently, progressing ever so slowly as he reaches his end. You can’t help the smile that spreads upon your face, seeing his eyes wanting to roll back but refusing. “Come now, my darling.” You murmur. “Let those steel blues roll back for me.”

His hands wrap around your waist, bracing himself so he is able to batter himself into you. The way he has you makes it so with every thrust up, your clit hits his groin with utmost force. It brings you closer to your second coming, your moans growing from the knot of pressure in your gut. Barnabas’ eyes have rolled to the back of his head, completely possessed from the pressure on his cock and throat. The boil of your love making grows bigger, until it finally overflows. Barnabas lets out a guttural noise, and as his seed shoots up into you, you relieve his throat. The fresh air entering his lungs exuberates him, which makes him go faster than he was before. You don’t know if it is the position you are in, but his pace sends a shock through your system, and makes you release all over him. Liquid squirts onto his groin, the sound of your love making increasing as it disperses over down your lover's thighs. It is overwhelming, and yet you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Barnabas slows down, bringing his thrusts to a halt. He is breathing heavily with a drunken smile on his face, eyes glazed with a calmness you have never seen with him. He looks like an angel; one that has fallen from grace into a world that must start anew from his command. It’s funny to you because he calls you an angel, yet you are seeing one right before you. 

You both are covered head to toe in each other’s blood, which has started to dry up. You go to remove yourself from him, but he holds onto you tighter. “Stay still, my heart. Bear my seed for a while longer.”

You nod and lay your head against his heart. Its pattern is all too familiar, falling right in line with your own. “My darling, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so calm before.”

He hums, his fingers brushing through your rowdy hair. “Remember, my dear. This bond binds us, for I am you and you are me.”

“I guess that means my calmness has officially rubbed off on you.” You chuckle, your finger drawing random letters into the dried blood on his chest.

He doesn’t respond but leans to press a kiss to your forehead. You both lay there for a while, basking in the post-oath glow. The candles dwindle off gradually, the wax melted onto the stone, letting the casting of the dark night sky cover both of you. And there you two fall asleep, covered in the throes of passion and rose petal stains.

[xixovart]

Subject: Urgent Help Needed – Your Support Can Make a Difference

Hello, my friend. I hope this message finds you well. 🙏

I am writing to you with a heavy heart and an urgent request for your help. My family is in a perilous situation due to the ongoing war and the famine we have endured for more than ten months. We are facing immense challenges, So please read my story as if I were a member of your family, if my family is your family.🥺

I'm Ola, a graduate student from the Faculty of Science at Al-Azhar University in Gaza, Palestine. I'm dedicated and passionate about becoming a good researcher and teacher.

Unexpectedly, after October 7th, my life took a drastic turn with the commencement of the cruel war on Gaza, transforming me from a passionate student into a person struggling for survival. 🥺

I have created a campaign to help my family rebuild their lives and meet our basic needs for food, drink, and other essentials in these harsh conditions. This will also help me continue my education. At this critical moment, I implore you to share my story with your network, both offline and on social media platforms. Your advocacy is vital to our success.

All I am asking for is your support. You can assist us by sharing the pinned post on my page or writing a post about my campaign. This would greatly help us reach more potential supporters, and I would be very grateful if you could share the campaign link with your friends and family via email or other social media platforms. ❤️

I sincerely hope you can empathize with our dire situation and consider supporting us. Please be assured that any help brings us closer to our goal, and no matter how small your donation might be, it will make a significant difference in my family's lives.

I would appreciate it if you could follow me to stay updated, as I will always need your help. 💔

This is my GFM link:

https://www.gofundme.com/f/empower-olas-pursuit-of-education-amid-crisis?qid=30ec4c502382b9962b96d698a687d9a8

My campaign has been verified by @ 90-ghost, @ northgazaupdates, @ el-shab-Hussien, and @ nabulsi's vetted list (line 205).

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/u/0/d/1yYkNp5U3ANwILl2MknJi9G7ArY4uVTEEQ1CVfzR8Ioo/htmlview#gid=0

Thank you in advance for your kindness and support. I am waiting for your response. ❤️

Please donate and/or share with others. 🥺🙏🇵🇸

Sincerely,

Ola

ola is a person. she has ambitions and dreams and she has a life she wants to live, just like you. she has people who love her, and people she loves back. she has a family and friends. you might not know or love ola, but there are people who do. she’s a human being who deserves to see another day. who deserves to pursue a career and spend a life loving and cherishing her family.

she is no different from you and i. the only difference, one is behind a wall she can’t climb over, and the other is on the other side of it.

you’re not able to donate? i get that. neither can i. but you have a platform. you have a voice when other’s don’t. you will be heard where other won’t. speak up. be the voice for the voiceless. be the hope for the hopeless. every bit counts.

[woodsfae]

Babylon 5 S03E16 War Without End: Part One previous episode - table of contents

From the preview image that Tubi chose for the episode I see that Sinclair's back?? My old friend!! As well as our first glimpse at Minbar outside the Grey Council chambers, I believe! It's beautiful: very sculpted in a sort of sci-fi Rivendell way which fits the Minbari's space elf vibe. 

Entil'Zha is being presented with a sacred box, which has waited for over 900 years..in which there is a letter for Jeffrey David Sinclair! Dun dun dun. Prophecy is real, Babylon 5 is a high fantasy as much as it is sci-fi. 

Another prophecy, this one of the sci-fi variety: Babylon 5 gets a transmission of Ivanova calling for help, saying "they're killing us." 

This show gives me so many fanfic ideas and I haven't looked to see if anyone else has done them yet, because I'm avoiding spoilers. So I really don't go looking for info on B5 or interact with fandom works much. But this episode reminds me that I keep toying with the idea of an AU where Sinclair never leaves at the end of s01 and the whole plot plays out with him. I miss him, he got into my heart so fast and I had no inkling he was leaving the show till well after I was attached. 

It's nice to see Sinclair has had Minbari friends in his time running/recruiting/training the Rangers from Minbar. 

Partner just asked me what my predictions were for Sinclair and then when I went on a ramble just stared at me and told me to write it down. So here: my prediction of Sinclair's fate. In a separate post, because it's a bit too much of a tangent.

I've paused for long enough for only being six minutes into, so we're going to move on now, but if you wanna hear meta thoughts on what I think might happen with other characters end games, I could ramble about it.

Ivanova: this recording is fake. my analysis is based on logic: I didn't do it, ergo it is fake. Garibaldi, living for some sci-fi shenanigans: what if it's time travel.

They have Garibaldi positioned poorly before a dark path in the backdrop and it looks like he has one, huge pouf of hair sticking out one side of his head, lol.

Sinclair's back on Babylon 5! Zack Allen is in plainclothes, so perhaps all staff have the option? Or Zack wasn't invited to their special senior staff matching uniforms? 

Delenn being a drama queen. It's one of the qualities they hire for on the Grey Council. 

Lennier: "It must be done or the dream will die, and countless others will die."

o m in o u s

Eight days since the last Vorlon attack, per Marcus. 

Sinclair looks so good in Sci-Fi Rivendell clothes. Eeeek, I missed him, I love it. 

Oh it's Zak? Zap? Zathras? Yes! Zathras! Wow, I wasn't sre he'd be back, let alone that he'd be in shenanigans with DraalPlanet, OR that DraalPlanet would be doing something with time travel! 

And Sheridan! Is also wearing Minbari fashion! Some very snazzy robes over his uniform. 

Ivanova's message from the future is so grim. The captain is dead. "They" are coming in all over the place. External cams: Shadows. The Shadows have weapons lock. Explosions. Seems pretty straightforward and I bet it'll play out exactly like that with no twists. :P /hah

As Sheridan is doubtlessly about to find out, it's always going to be a normal evening when you are asked to swear you trust someone with your life before events can commence. 

Delenn has a powerpoint presentation about the Shadows. And a battle where the shadows were driven from their home, Zha'Dum. But the Minbari were losing at the time. Until Babylon 4 appeared! Delenn says without Babylon 4, they would have lost the war. 

Even while Babylon 4 was in construction, the Shadows attacked to destroy it. And the White Star was there! Delenn says they must go through the temporal rift that Draal is widening, protect B4, steal B4, and send B4 around in time. End Presentation! Everyone agrees with her flawless logic. And because she brought receipts in the form of video archival footage from DraalPlanet's surveillance system: Epsilon 3. 

That I didn't see coming, either. But like Garibaldi, I am so on board for the sci-fi hijinks. 

Oh, Delenn's plan goes farther! She and Sheridan will take B4 on the entire time travel trip and personally fight in the historical fight against the Shadows. Ten thousand years ago, right??? Damn, Sheridan and Delenn are going to stride through time and strike titanic, decisive blows in a war that felled entire species of sci-fi space gods!! That's so fucking epic. 

Ivanova is floating the idea that she was calling for help from an alternate timeline. But Garibaldi thinks it's the timeline they're planning now, where they take B4. 

I'm sure that SInclair's quippy references to Sheridan are super funny, but sadly I do not get the references. 

Zathras is here again. I...don't get Zathras. He's ehh funny. But extremely plot useful! Sinclair is meeting Zathras for the second time, but for Zathras it's the first time. But Zathras is well-informed, because he's very super honored to meet Sinclair and Sheridan, but also that's on the list of things Draal told him not to mention. 

Ahh, this Sinclair has already lived through the destruction of Babylon 5! He's already experiencing the world nonlinearly and is trying to do differently on this loop - damn! Or he's having visions from an alternate timeline but at some point you gotta agreee those are almost the sme thing, structurally, experientially, and thematically.

Time travel requires the use of devices that act as anchors. Zathras is handing them out and they're all being clipped visibly on a belt or sash, thus guaranteeing that someone will lose theirs. Sinclair? 

Aww, Sinclair sees Delenn and Sheridan holding hands and smiled. That makes me wistful for the Sinclair/Delenn endgame that exists in my personal, unwritten AU. 

Garibaldi is due an arc of making good, upstanding decisions and not doing police brutality so it hits extra hard when he blows up with Babylon 5. Or he makes it two more seasons, idk. I wouldn't mind if they lost a few characters and he was one of them.

Especially not if we could swap him for Talia back. I can't decide if I think she (or her personality that got overwritten) will be back or not. 

The White Star has been ugraded with Vorlon skin, so it deflects attacks better, which Sheridan affects to be unimpressed by.

Garibaldi guesses "Hello, old friend," as the password which Sinclair used to lock a goodbye/sorry video Sinclair left for him. Which makes me softer for Garibaldi. That's what I think of when I think of Sinclair, too! 

Oooo, Sheridan's time stabilizer got hit and now he's unstuck in time. Space is big. Hope he lands on something with an atmosphere. Delenn can pick him up later, I'm sure.

Sheridan always automatically turns to Delenn for backup, but Sinclair automatically turns to Ivanova, and I love that. 

Sheridan just time traveled to the future where Londo is the Emperor of Centaur! And it's "just in time to die."

Are they currently losing a war in the future? Perhaps Centaur is now a holdout in the war for existence against the Shadows in an alternate future and Sheridan will be meant to save the future as well as the past? 

So funny how taken aback Delenn is that Sinclair speaks Minbari now. He lived there! Marcus, who was being trained as a Ranger there learned Minbari as what he implied was a necessity. But Delenn is so surprised. Their heart to heart is so sweet. *shipping intensifies*

Back to the future! Sheridan and Londo seems like he's blaming other people for his own support of the Shadows' agenda coming back to bite Londo and Centaur in the ass. "Ohhh if only you'd joined me in collaborating I wouldn't have had to face any consequences!" He'll get everything he ever thought he wanted and learned that being Emperor lost him everything he'd ever cared loved.

That's a pretty good hook and a cliffhanger. And a ton of interesting information was revealed! It's too late for Part Two tonight but I pinky-promise I will watch it tomorrow. I wrote up some predictions after I did a Sinclair one and an other-characters one before I watched...

War Without End: Part Two

[cetaitlaverite]

Why All This Music?

Masters of the Air - Rosie Rosenthal x OC

here's your final chapter! the epilogue is to follow! masterlist is linked here <3

41. How to Exist

Thorpe Abbotts was empty of airmen once more. It was also empty of planes. Everything had been packed up and carted away, the crews had flown the B-17s back the way they’d come, first to Greenland and then to the States. Freddie, Jem, and Millie walked through a ghost town on the way back from the officers’ club to the wireless operators’ hut.

Most of the other remaining personnel had gone home this afternoon. The Americans had all gone yesterday. It had been a tearful goodbye for everyone involved but, at the very least, Freddie and Millie would be stateside themselves very soon and would be in attendance at every reunion held henceforth.

Jem and Paddy were staying put in Jem’s hometown of Brighton - for now, at least, while they decided how they wanted to navigate their life together.

It hadn’t been possible for Freddie and Millie to fly home with their pilots. Moving twenty-something years’ worth of belongings from one country to another made for a lot of luggage, they had soon discovered when conversations about logistics had commenced. But they were taking a ship over together, sharing a cabin so they wouldn’t feel too homesick on the journey. A new life would be waiting for them on the other side.

But that would all come later. Tonight, Freddie, Millie, and Jem had one final sleepover in their old hut left in them, and two bottles of stolen whiskey to go with it.

“I can’t believe it’s all over,” Millie said, kicking idly at a stone in her path as they walked.

The stars overhead blinked lazily down on them. Soon, they’d no longer have to navigate solely by starlight and the light of the moon. While Britain’s blackout was set to endure a few months longer, America’s lights were all switched on. It would be strange, Freddie thought, to be in a country which had been largely untouched by the war - well, on the surface, that was.

Freddie had tears stinging in her eyes, as she had for most of the day. Her office was all packed up, the materials she’d borrowed sent back to the RAF depot and the things which were hers loaded into her footlocker. At some point she’d come to believe that the war would never actually end, and now that it had she knew she’d miss Thorpe Abbotts the way she was bound to miss Oxford, the way she’d been missing Vienna for a while now; it was a home just like both of the others, just like New York would come to be soon, too.

“I’ll miss our sleepovers most of all, I think,” Freddie said, her voice wobbly and wet.

Jem scoffed playfully. “You won’t need our sleepovers anymore, Fred. Not when you’ll be having sleepovers with Rosie every night.”

“I’ll always need our sleepovers,” Freddie protested. “Even when I’m a mum. Even when I’m old.”

“Then let’s always have sleepovers,” Millie declared. “Once a month, just like we’ve been doing since we first met. We’ll stay in a hotel. And we’ll telephone you, Jem, until you finally screw your head on straight and realise the party’s on the other side of the ocean and follow us over there.”

Jem laughed and teasingly disagreed but Freddie could hear a sadness in her laughter. She didn’t want to be left behind just as much as Freddie and Millie didn’t want to leave her behind, but they all had lives to start. Everything had been put on hold while the war was on, and they’d entered it so much girls, were leaving it so much women. They couldn’t stay attached at the hip forever but they’d always be tethered together, an ocean between them or otherwise.

“I’ll have to go over for your wedding anyway, Mils,” Jem reminded her with a weak, watery laugh. “And your second wedding, Fred. So we’ll have our next sleepover then.”

“We can have a joint hen party, Fred!” Millie declared. “And all the wireless ops will be invited!”

Freddie laughed. “Yes! Absolutely! So you absolutely have to come, Jem, because we’ll need you there for that.”

“Yes, yes,” Jem agreed, batting them away with a lazy swipe of her hand, “I’m very popular. I’ll be there.”

Their laughter was loud in the quiet as they came upon their nissen hut, drowning out the singing of crickets and the rustle of leaves and the distant sound of a crunching, solitary pair of footsteps.

Meatball was waiting for them on Freddie’s old bed inside the hut. Cecelia had gone home this morning, so really it was Freddie’s bed again now. Millie and Jem had helped her drag her belongings back in there and they’d dressed it up to look the same as it had when she’d lived there, though there was now a picture of her and Rosie on their wedding day taped up on the wall above the bed alongside the pictures which had been there before.

The whiskey was opened. The first bottle went down much too fast. But they savoured the second, because they’d only ever been able to finish two bottles and they didn’t want the night to be over too soon.

They spoke of their memories from their time together during the war, all the ups and the downs. They shared their fears for the future as well as all the things they were excited about, confessed regrets and reassured each other that, while they’d each made some mistakes in their time, they hadn’t ever gone too far astray.

They danced together to music that they sang and laughed louder than they ever had, as though trying to ensure the others wouldn’t forget the sound of their voice. And when they hugged they hugged impossibly tight, squeezing the air out of each other, as though trying to imprint a permanent mark on each other’s hearts.

When, eventually, the time came to go to bed, far later than they had ever gone to bed before, they all settled into their own beds, the three of them in a row the way they had been at the beginning. But after no more than ten minutes, into the silence of the hut, Jem started to cry and they all bundled themselves into Millie’s bed together. It was a tight squeeze, three adult women in one single bed, but they managed, with no shortage of elbows in faces and knees in stomachs and grunted complaints that someone was hogging the blanket.

They all woke the following morning with cricks in their necks and aching backs, but none of them would have changed their final night together for the world. The pains they took with them on their ways home were a lingering reminder of the love they shared, the sisterhood they had formed during some of the world’s darkest hours.

Alma and Felix were not following Freddie to New York. This was a journey she needed to make alone, they said. She needed to set up a life for herself with Rosie and she couldn’t do that if she had her parents there to hold her hands through it, not really.

So one week later Freddie had her luggage packed and piled into the back of the car while she sat on the floor playing with her dogs one final time. She wasn’t sure when she’d next see them - when she and Rosie had their second wedding, she hoped - but she knew it would be too long.

Tears came dribbling down her cheeks, ruining the makeup she’d only recently applied, but she couldn’t find a single part of her which cared. Earnie and Bruno knew something was wrong. They always had a sixth sense for when Freddie was returning to Thorpe Abbotts - it was the bags sitting by the door, Freddie always thought. Only this time she wasn’t going a mere few hours away, she was going across the ocean, leaving her life in England behind to start a new one in America.

It was every bit as hard as she’d been fearing it would be.

She had Earnie cuddled against her chest and Bruno draped across her lap, doing her best to split her attention between the two of them. And both sets of their eyes were sad as they looked up at her. It was terrible having to leave them.

“I love you both so, so much,” Freddie told them, pressing firm kisses to both of their heads while Alma stood back with Meatball on a lead. “I’ll miss you more than I can say.”

Earnie let out a small whimper. Bruno rubbed his head into her legs.

Felix came in from putting the last of her bags into the car and smiled sadly at the scene before him. “Ready to go, schatz?” he asked softly.

Freddie let out a sob. “No.”

“Now, none of this,” Alma asserted. She handed off Meatball’s lead to Felix and crouched beside Freddie on the floor. “I know it’s hard now, but think how much harder it would be if you were staying here and it was Rosie you’d be missing. We’ll all come visit soon, and you’ll be so busy getting settled and picking out a house we’ll probably show up before you’re even ready for us.”

“I want you to come with me,” Freddie wept, turning her face into her mother’s shoulder.

Alma didn’t say anything, just let Freddie cry a little bit more before she eventually had to pull herself together.

Slowly, reluctantly, Freddie pushed herself to her feet and pressed kiss after kiss to Earnie’s head and cheeks. “My little boy,” she cooed, nuzzling her nose into his neck, “I’m going to miss you so much.”

Earnie licked her cheek and she let out a sad little giggle. Bruno weaved his way around her legs and she laughed. “You too, Bruno, my not-so-little boy.”

She lingered a few moments longer, whispering words of adoration to her dogs, before, finally, she placed Earnie down in his bed and led Bruno to his, kissed them both one final time on the head, and followed her parents out of the front door.

It was an hour and a half on the train to Southampton, where her ship was leaving from. Freddie had to say goodbye to her father at the train station in Oxford, but Alma was coming with her to help her with Meatball and her luggage. And at the port Alma boarded the ship alongside her, helped to get her settled into her cabin, then accompanied her on a walk around the ship with Meatball so he could stretch his legs.

The sea air was salty and cooling on Freddie’s cheeks, filling them with a rosy flush. Meatball was clearly enjoying the feeling of the wind in his fur, closing his eyes into the breeze and sitting against it.

The sea was so alien to Freddie. She’d been to the seaside a few times in her life, yes, but she’d grown up in cities and spent the last six years of her life in the midst of immense expanses of fields. The closest she’d gotten to any sizable body of water was the English Channel when she’d flown over it on the mercy missions Rosie had let her go on with him.

To be standing here now, on a ship set to cross the Atlantic Ocean, was one more stark reminder of how different her life was about to be, of how much her life had changed over the course of the war. No longer was she nineteen and in love with the boy next door, spending her days practising her piano for university. She would never be that girl again.

“It’ll be okay, Wils,” Alma said softly as they leaned against the rail of the ship, watching the other passengers board. “I know exactly how you’re feeling, the conflict of it all, but it’ll settle. There’s so much to be excited about in the years ahead of you. You’ve been tethered here for so long and I’m so pleased to see you finally heading out into the world. And we’ll only be a phone call away.”

“You’ll be an ocean away,” Freddie protested weakly.

Alma smiled. “Your husband’s a pilot,” she said. “I’m sure you two can figure something out in case of an emergency.”

Reluctantly, Freddie let out a small laugh and rested her head on her mother’s shoulder.

A contemplative silence fell, broken only by the whistling of the wind and the distant call of the ship’s crewmen to each other. Freddie shut her eyes and tried to focus on the feeling of her mother’s shoulder beneath her temple, the warmth of her, the smell. She tried to commit it all to memory so she could call it back when she needed it, could remember what it was like to have her mum so close.

“I barely know how to exist in peacetime,” Freddie spoke up after a while. “I’ve been a wireless operator for so long.”

“You’ll love it,” Alma assured her. Freddie could hear the wide smile in her voice. “You and Rosie will finally get to experience being newlyweds the way you always should have. You’ll love getting to live with him and all of the many small, wonderful details which come with being married. There are so many parts of your life which you are going to absolutely adore and which you don’t even know about yet.” Alma turned to kiss Freddie’s head and smiled into her hair. “I know you don’t feel very excited right now, but I’m so excited for you, Wils. And I couldn’t be prouder of you, I really couldn’t.”

Alma stayed until Millie arrived and then everyone - Freddie, Alma, Millie, and Millie’s mother - was in fits of tears. Alma’s tears were happy, she insisted, and Millie’s were excited. Freddie’s were conflicted and Millie’s mother’s were sad. But they all four of them knew it was the right thing they were doing, hard as it was. Freddie and Millie had lives to start across the ocean and they had been delayed for far too long.

As Freddie and Millie stood at the railing of the ship, waving to their mothers on the dock below, holding on tightly to each other with their free hands, Freddie tried to embrace the conflict of emotions inside of her; she was sad to leave behind her family and her life but excited about her new one, she missed Rosie terribly but she was so glad to be reunited with Millie. The thrill of the adventure rivalled with the fear of it, but she tried to find the joy in that. She didn’t want her life to be perfect, after all; nothing which was important to her had ever been truly easy. So when the ship pulled away and she cried big, unstoppable tears, she smiled through it, worked hard to focus on the fierce beating of her heart beneath the fierce ache of it, and turned her face into the sunshine and the wind. Never once had she been entirely sure what was ahead of her - even when she thought she had she’d been wrong - so she tried not to fear what she couldn’t yet predict and focus on her courage.

Whatever the rest of her life held for her was sure to be a big adventure. However it unfolded, she couldn’t wait to find out.

[divinekangaroo]

Read one analysis, and im confused. Is Lizzie to be blamed for Graces death? Is she to be blamed for Tommy sleeping with her soon after?

Lizzie x Angel can be considered the precipitating event, but Lizzie had zero influence or control on the long decision tree which followed which led more directly to Grace's death.

Based on the attribution analysis we frequently apply to, for example, working backwards from deaths at our workplace to determine points to target for change, for example,

If the Shelbys ignored L x A (took no action), would Vicente have hired an assassin to shoot Tommy and accidentally hit Grace? No.

If L x A hadn't happened, would Vicente have hired an assassin to shoot Tommy and accidentally hit Grace? No.

And because both of these if/then scenarios immediately before and immediately after what is seen as the 'precipitating event' result in a "no the death would not have happened", the analysis re attribution actually commences at this first step:

What was the first decision 'fork in the road' after this apparent precipitating event (of LxA hook up) which started the path down towards Grace being shot? (because it's actually this first decision that starts the cascade, NOT the 'precipitating event'. Remember: if the precipitating event is ignored, the death does not happen. It's the response to the precipitating event which actually starts the cascade towards the death.)

In my mind it was John (and maybe Arthur) deciding to take the path of violence and firebomb Angel's restaurant. Note: they had not even spoken to Lizzie at that point. She only found out there was an issue with Angel at the wedding!

At every point along the decision tree, John (and Arthur) made the choice to apply more violence. Vicente then chose to respond by matching their violence. John (and Arthur) then stepped up the violence another notch. Vicente then matched that higher violence. All the way to Angel being murdered, so Vicente hired an assassin.

That said, there *were* other contributing factors influencing the overall context, which may have led to influencing John (and Arthur and Vicente) to believe violence was the only possible decision at each decision point:

-Tommy has no tolerance for unrest, likely part pressures of both his rapid territory expansion + the deadly Russian scheme, and when everyone is part-way down this path of violence, gives a speech to his family where he makes it clear things have gone too far for apology, and outlines force/violence as necessary because he cannot have anyone stepping out of line right now. It is unclear in my memory if Tommy ever expressly told John/Arthur to kill Angel, but whether or not he did, this speech alone set a frame in John for further violent response as the appropriate action.

-Churchill keeps Tommy so busy/stressed out of his mind with seriously high risk, life threatening illegal activities such that Tommy couldn’t pay attention to brewing turf wars/friction, enabling a space where John escalated matters without Tommy's oversight (and what was Arthur doing? why didn't Polly know? Why did John and Arthur act without consulting Polly? So even with Tommy's distraction, what was John and Arthur doing to not establish this was appropriate?)

-Hughes keeps Tommy from actually attending the Vicente 'truce' meeting, leaving a space where John and Arthur go to town with humiliation and mockery. Tommy would *not* have approached this meeting this way; he is particularly businesslike even with his enemies, and even when he does mock (eg the IRA 'Chosen One' scene) it's more sardonic and contextual and not as...personally, racially, weirdly childishly targetted in the way John and Arthur did

-Something shifty *is* going on with Angel. He is a shifty dude. I have a detailed theory but it's a tangent to this point.

-Vicente is well aware of the humiliation/destruction of Sabini and highly sensitised to being treated in the same way. There's also a range of ethnic and racist factors in here too which further sensitise Vicente to not take it (Sabini says swallow, I say spit)

-(and you can go further back to frame their daily lives and also the war as a contextual contributing factor: these boys are all primed for violence being seen 'as the answer' because frequently, it was the answer. And in fact was integral to several of their successes, too.)

Then we go all the way down the other end of the decision tree and ask:

2. What was the final decision "fork in the road" just prior to Grace's shooting which resulted in Grace being shot?

For me, this was (offscreen!) Vicente hiring an assassin BUT SPECIFICALLY deciding the best place to assassinate Tommy was at a public charity event *held* by Tommy. One reason might have been access, but we also have to consider the way Vicente was at the point of really wanting to destroy Tommy by now. Assassinating a gangster like Tommy publically at a major 'stepping into' legitimate society milestone would have destroyed the Shelby family name in so many spheres, both criminal and society. It would have left the family after Tommy's death battling to hold their territories and without ability to leverage Tommy's financial legacy all that well. Ultimately it was a decision for maximum humiliation of Tommy Shelby and hurt of the Shelbys, to kill Tommy at his 'triumph' moment, instead of sniping him, ambushing him in his car, doing it in an alley or at his house. But because this decision of public assassination venue was made, this meant Grace (and many other people!) was present and at risk of being shot by accident, which is what happened.

.

I also think a little on motive: between Angel, John, Vicente, Tommy, Arthur, Lizzie is the only one in the 'people involved' chain leading to Grace's death who did not have ‘violence or harmful intent to others’ in her motivation. She never influenced or directed steps towards violence, whereas all the others did. If you apply a 'violence begets violence' / 'eye for an eye' approach it wasn't Lizzie's fault either, she never turned it towards violence diretcly or indirectly, that was all with John (& Arthur) and Vicente, with framing from Tommy influencing John.

Or you could consider a legal culpability angle too, if you like: Vicente and the assassin are culpable for Grace's murder. John (maybe Arthur) are culpable for Angel's murder. John and Arthur are culpable for property damage, arson and assault (causing permanent blinding). Angel *might* be culpable for fraud (false identities/false representations) but given there were no direct or consequential flow-on damages (financial or otherwise) from his fraud it's hard to say (and he's dead anyway!). But what did Lizzie do? Date a guy - who probably approached her, given the mores of the day - and invite him to a wedding? There's no legal culpability there.

It just really gets to whether you believe the precipitating event (Lizzie hooking up with Angel) is the sole source of blame or whether it was the - call it at least - eight decision points along the chain, mostly in John (and Arthur) and Vicente's control, where each time the decision was taken to *increase* the violence to the point of murder and retribution. Based on having to work with lawyers and specialists unfortunately frequently to analyse deaths on sites and work out how they could have been avoided, it is often misapplied to blame the 'precipitating event' which appears the obvious problem - as above, it is frequently the first decision in response to an otherwise *ordinary* and low/no risk precipitating event, and the subsequent cascade, where the failures that lead to the death occur.

.

I have seen a reading that Lizzie got with Angel just to get back at Tommy, but...really? She is so invested in the Shelbys; there is no hint or undercurrent that she was intending to betray Tommy's business information. Even if she knew who Angel was, so what? He didn't fit in the definition of "foreigner" - he was born in England! And, let's not forget, no one told her that Angel was a risk to the business until after the restaurant was firebombed and Lizzie was at the wedding wondering where the hell her boyfriend was. John could have told Lizzie before choosing violence to break it off with Angel, and she probably would have, such is her investment in the Shelbys.

I do think Lizzie was primed to fall for/be vulnerable to someone like Angel, following her humiliation at Epsom where Tommy 1) did not acknowledge her faltering expression of love/care, 2) asked her to play the prostitute, 3) set her up for assault/rape and 4) probably came into work within the week after this happened to Lizzie and announced he was getting married and had a kid on the way. Imagine her looking for someone with the same kind of 'air' as Tommy (danger/intelligence/power) in order to clear out her head of any remaining longing for Tommy. But I certainly don't think she ever thought her association with Angel would *hurt* Tommy or the business in any way - Lizzie was just trying to move on.

Depending on how you consider the hints about Angel, he could have been deliberately honey-trapping Lizzie to spy on Tommy, but I don't think she was aware of this at that S3-E1 point (and again -- John and Arthur didn't tell her anything before they destroyed the restaurant!)

[I do like to consider how symbolic both Grace and Angel's names are, though: how Angel being murdered leads to Grace being murdered. There is no salvation for this family is there. And, the symbolic parallel in their names and deaths made me wonder if there is also that symbolic in their roles: Grace was initially a honeytrap for Tommy, so...was Angel a honeytrap for Lizzie? But that's drifting from the point of your question sorry...]

---

Ah, Tommy and sex again. So I’m always intrigued at takes that make Tommy (who has ALL the power) deciding to sleep with Lizzie somehow Lizzie’s fault?

They made it clear in the show TxL only have sex ‘when Tommy wants’. How she says it makes it clear he’s not doing it out of want for her…sex for him appears to be some kind of release/anxiety thing too, like having sex is a momentary way to feel better, even if briefly.

And really, I do think about the power imbalance: Lizzie’s job/money and personal dignity is now dependent on Tommy being able to hold his shit together and keep doing what he does. She *could* say no to him, but why would she? She is infatuated/in love with him, she’s financially dependent on him, her social status is dependent on him, and she does also *care* for him as a person and very much probably a friend. She’d know better than anyone how Tommy uses sex as that kind of anti-anxiety release. She would accommodate his needs no matter her own hurt at doing so, in the hope he hurts less / hurts himself less, which is a pattern she demonstrates again and again.

So if they have sex ‘too soon’ after Grace dies, well, it’s probably Tommy’s fault as the initiator and the holder of power, and only minorly Lizzie's fault for not saying no (dear god when can we stop blaming women for not saying no), but really, why is there any fault to consider at all? Grace is dead, there’s no infidelity or broken promise — and remember the sheer pressure Tommy is under in S3. And we're upset the guy has uncomplicated 'take me out of my head for a moment please' sex with a once lover/prostitute for a bit of relief? Such a terrible judgement to apply to him (and Lizzie) for someting that doesn't matter and which is effectively consensual and hurts no one else, given all the other actually bad things Tommy does that would merit such judgement.

IDEK man. By the time T x L are having sex again, Lizzie is also much more aware of how delicate the whole Russian situation is than she was at start of S3; any desire she might have to say no out of personal dignity/pride probably dissolves when she realises she might be one of the few slender threads Tommy’s got to actually get some uncomplicated relief/release from the disaster of, and immense grief and threat of, S3, and maybe stay a little sane for her being able to give him that brief human comfort and care. I mean, he could be going to prostitutes for anxiety release, but given the issues with possible leaks/risks, as well as the way he actually needs care and comfort in his grief not just release, I just. Yeah.

Why are we blaming Lizzie again? I've confused myself lol. She can't be blamed for the S3 sex Tommy has with her. (- edits to add: on the point of 'so soon after grace's death', Tommy's also under massive time pressure. He knows he has to sleep with Tatiana very soon to make his whole ploy successful and keep the wheels in motion; take this 'headcanon' however you will, but I like to imagine he didn't want the first time he had sex after Grace to be with the mad Russian duchess who actually propositioned him for sex on the night Grace died in his arms....I mean, really, what would have been better, Tommy being disaster-fucked by Tatiana first and maybe having a worse breakdown than he did have (that little one in his study), or Tommy having off-screen comfort sex with Lizzie and being able to just keep on keeping on...?)