#and yet i go the twisty route with her :')

[necrotic-nightshade]

Received this lady the other night as part of a trade and figured I’d try drawing her while I brainstormed what to do with her. So far, aside from her being in the same universe as Rue, Salem, and Cruor, all I’ve got is that she’s a fanatical cultist who died young during the 1990′s and landed herself in The Crater.

Design and the art in the top left were made by Tailom on ToyHou.se

[egcarlos]

The past several times I had to travel, I was with a baby, so I didn’t really have time to think about things. But, after a 14-hour flight from Seattle to Doha, a 7 hour layover before my 6-hour flight to Kigali and another 6 hour drive to my final destination, Bukavu, one can’t help but reflect on life in general.

I arrived to Bukavu late Friday afternoon dead-tired. From what I was told in the email a week before, I was supposed to have a night to spend in Kigali to get some much-needed rest, but once I arrived to the guesthouse, the driver asked if I wanted to leave that very moment. I said yes without hesitation although I wish I hadn’t. I almost threw up on the ride. The route was beautiful; the weather was mild, everything was so green, and it was such a warm and welcoming sight back to the continent of Africa, but the route was also twisty and turny. My already empty stomach wouldn’t stop churning throughout the 6-hour drive. I was surprised I fell asleep at some parts of the ride which helped make things go by faster. When we finally got to the border crossing between Rwanda and the DRC, I thought I had to put my French skills to the test to get the necessary stamps and visas to cross, but luckily I traveled with another ex-patriate from Mali, Ali, who spoke perfect French, so he got us through quite easily. As we arrived to the office, we quickly got some of introductory formalities taken cared of and off we both went to the house. I’ve been so looking forward to working with MSF again. Ever since I left my first project in South Sudan in 2019, I knew I would be making plans to work my way back to another post. I luckily arrived on a Friday, so I have absolutely nothing to do over the weekend. There are about 8 other people in the house, I only got to speak to 2 other ex-pats. Ali was assigned to the other house unfortunately and this is not his first project here in the DRC so he knows a lot of the locals in the area, so I haven’t seen him since Friday. One of the ex-pats invited me to go out with the other workers to catch a drink, but I was dead-exhausted and I almost vomited just thinking about alcohol. The first thing I did Saturday morning, I went out for a walk. It rained the night before, so I was sloshing my way around in the mud. I walked about 5 miles in total. I bought myself a local ‘croissant’ which was more of a heavier, thicker version of pain au chocolat. My pants and shoes were a mess when I got back, but it didn’t matter to me; I used the same pants and shoes for my Sunday walk too. My Sunday walk was a lot better than yesterday’s because it hadn’t rained overnight. As I was welcomed back into the compound, the lady who opened the door already knew my name. I felt bad because I didn’t ask her for her name, but I will when I see her next time and ask her.

And now, I am here. Sitting down in front of a gorgeous lake front view of Lake Kivu. It’s a shame though because there is absolutely no access to the water literally 30 feet away from me. There’s a locked latch that I guess we are not supposed to try to open; there may have been some accidents in the past with ex-pats falling into the water? Ha, I don’t know. But here I am, thinking about life; missing my family, missing my parents, missing Yamini, and missing Rio. I was comforted this morning because after a video call with Yamini, Rio was doing his thing; active and mumbling as usual. He is well-loved at home, and I know deep in my heart that I should feel at ease. Once the work starts, I know that I will be immersed in it. I may not have this time to just sit and think for a while. I am still not totally clear on what exactly I am doing in these projects. I have yet to meet the person that I am replacing; all I know is that she is a female and that is that. She is away in one of the projects over the weekend, so I hope to meet her tomorrow, Monday. From what I read, MSF- Spain is in charge of 3 other projects here in the DRC; Kalehe, Samamabila and Kalole. As their ‘Flying’ specialist, I will be called to these projects on an as needed basis when there are patients to see and to evaluate the needs of these projects. Based on my reading, it sounds like getting to some of these patients can be a challenge and some are very remote. I was reading that I may have to not only go on foot, but also ride on the back of a motorcycle to reach some of these health centers. Safety and security will be on the back of my mind and will be one of the first questions I will have for the person that I am replacing. But anyways, that’s all I know. I can just focus on being here, in front of this beautiful lake for now. I can enjoy this time to think about life. All my other roommates are still asleep; it is about 8 AM this Sunday morning.

I read this beautiful line last night in Victor Frankl’s book, Man’s Search for Meaning, The Truth- that love is the ultimate and the highest goal to which man can aspire… The salvation of man is through love and in love. I understood how a man who has nothing left in this world still may know bliss, be it only for a brief moment, in the contemplation of his beloved. When I think about my family, when I think about Yamini and when I think about Rio, I am complete. I have all that I want in this world. God, the universe, fate, love has given me all that I have ever wanted and more. This is why I am here. This is why I am thousands of miles away from home, hoping to give whatever little I can offer to make this world just a little bit better- because I am complete and this universe has given me so much. I know that the next 6 months will fly by and at the end will seem just a drop in time. I have no idea what to expect and where I am going, but all I know is that this is where I am meant to be.

[theblondegoesabroad]

Day 61

Friday 1st July 2022

2 months and we made it to the top. Today we packed up camp at our very scenic campsite and headed north. The furtherest north we will probably ever go. I was expecting to run into Santa shopping the summer sales to be honest. Although he’s probably avoiding the crowds like us. We left Durness and jumped back on to the NC500, the North Coast 500 mile road. It’s the most commun route to the top and very popular. Lots of single track routes, and twisty turns around the lochs, rivers, wet lands and coast. (Popular for road trippers and bikers) Benoît has a theory that if you squeezed all the water out of the ground in the Uk like a sponge the sea level would rise 2cm globally. And he’s not far off. It’s wet here. We can go out for a walk without getting stuck in the rain nor can we avoid getting our feet wet from the mossy wetlands that are everywhere. Even on the mountain tops. Water flows from everything here. So anyway. On the NC500 we only had a few stops today as honestly there isn’t much at the top of Scotland. But with an average summer temperature of 13degrees. I don’t blame them. We did stop off at the puffin coves and got to see quite a few puffins on their rocks in the very neat cove, stacks and layered rock formations, very neat. Looked like a secret little cover that a pirate ship would pull into for refuge. We watched the puffins and a influencer taking enough photos of her back to fill an entire album we headed but up to the car. We then followed the road to Thurso where we did a supermarket shop before heading up to the top. At John O’Groats we treated ourselves to a fancy wee cafe. We ordered scotch eggs and cakes. Our two favourite Scottish/ lEnglish specialities. It was a real treat and a nice time to reflect on our big journey up to here. Like how lucky are we to have been able to do thing, organise it all, save up and actually be doing it. And were no where near the end yet! But getting to the top was a bit of a wow moment. We got a photo with the sign post, unlike lands end at the bottom of the Uk you don’t have to pay for a photo with this sign post. And then we headed across to Wick to check out the incredible 14th century castle/fortress built on the rocks. Names as one of the worlds most endangered monuments. Mainly due to its precarious position on an eroding stack. It was impressive. Free to roam around, and just enough ruins to let the imagination flow. Then back down. We don’t really have any plans from here. I planned up until here real well and now it is a bit of free wheeling to see where we go. We have a plan to head back to Paul and Pams for the 21st of July as they are throwing a party and after that we would like to head back to Portland island for the last few days but in between now and then it will depend on the weather, we hope to head to the Peak District and get some climbing in though. We will see. So this evening as we headed back down the coast we talked plans and next steps. Main decision was to head south, hopefully into a warmer climate and less midges. We found a nice spot for dinner at the beach and then headed a bit more inland to camp and do a wee waterfall walk in the evening. Love Kate xxx

[agentrouka-blog]

I’ve been wondering what to make of Arya killing Dareon. I’ve seen this celebrated as an example of her making sure justice is served. But I felt so bad when I read that. Dareon didn’t choose to go to the Watch. He was sent there as punishment, probably on false charges. He didn’t choose to make that oath. When Arya killed him, it felt almost like if Andy had been murdered right after escaping Shawshank.

At the same time Arya isn’t warden of the North. She is in no position to be the one to sentence and execute deserters, which made what she did vigilantism at best.

Do you think GRRM means us to see this as justice? I mean, he does make a lot of people not breaking the oats the swear, but at the same time he makes it clear that a lot of the men of Watch shouldn’t have been there in the first place.

Hi non!

Well, I certainly don’t think GRRM is celebrating Arya’s choice here.

Arya’s murder of Dareon places her in a pattern of singer murders that encompasses many of our leading ladies (and lads) in the books. All occur in the context of injustice.

Cersei: the Blue Bard (if he’s not dead yet, he’s certainly headed that way)

Sansa: Marillion (indirectly)

Arya: Dareon

Dany: Mirri

Catelyn: Jinglebell (not a singer, but a “musician” with his bells and fond of dancing)

Tyrion: Symon Silver Tongue

Basically, none of these singers die justly, all are accused of crimes they did not commit, or simply for revenge. Arya’s case is no different.

Dareon is, to me, much greyer than what you describe. He may be innocent of the crime that sent him to the Wall - or he may say he is. He didn’t choose to go to the Wall, and he didn’t have much alternative to saying the vows, yes. But he is also being an irresponsible traitor because the threat of the Others to the Realm is real and he knows it. Gared is executed by Ned for defection but he tried to tell them about the threat. Dareon is just abandoning the responsibility that is inherent in his knowledge of what is going on. 

But that is not why Arya kills him. 

It made her angry to see Dareon sitting there so brazen, making eyes at Lanna as his fingers danced across the harp strings. The whores called him the black singer, but there was hardly any black about him now. With the coin his singing brought him, the crow had transformed himself into a peacock. (…) The only black about him was his boots. Cat had heard him tell Lanna that he'd thrown all the rest in a canal. "I am done with darkness," he had announced.

He is a man of the Night's Watch, she thought, as he sang about some stupid lady throwing herself off some stupid tower because her stupid prince was dead. The lady should go kill the ones who killed her prince. And the singer should be on the Wall. When Dareon had first appeared at the Happy Port, Arya had almost asked if he would take her with him back to Eastwatch, until she heard him telling Bethany that he was never going back. (…)

The swollen red sun hung in the sky behind the row of masts when Cat took her leave of the Happy Port, with a plump purse of coins and a barrow empty but for salt and seaweed. Dareon was leaving too. He had promised to sing at the Inn of the Green Eel this evening, he told her as they strolled along together. (…)

“What happened to your brother?” Cat asked. “The fat one. Did he ever find a ship to Oldtown? He said he was supposed to sail on the Lady Ushanora.”

“We all were. Lord Snow’s command. I told Sam, leave the old man, but the fat fool would not listen.” The last light of the setting sun shone in his hair. “Well, it’s too late now.”

“Just so,” said Cat as they stepped into the gloom of a twisty little alley. (...)

This time she did not hesitate. “Dareon is dead. The black singer who was sleeping at the Happy Port. He was really a deserter from the Night’s Watch. Someone slit his throat and pushed him into a canal, but they kept his boots.”  

“Good boots are hard to find.”

“Just so.” She tried to keep her face still.

“Who could have done this thing, I wonder?”

“Arya of House Stark.” She watched his eyes, his mouth, the muscles of his jaw. (…)

On her way across the city Arya had wondered what the kindly man would say when she told him about Dareon. Maybe he would be angry with her, or maybe he would be pleased that she had given the singer the gift of the Many-Faced God.

She had given him the gift. She claims it was Arya-of-House-Stark (tm) who killed him, and it was, but she did not execute a deserter in accordance to the law. (Which she can’t because she is in no legal position of authority.) She performed an assassination. She left when he did, she strolled with him, she never identified herself or “officially” sentenced him. She waits for an isolated moment and - in all likelihood - used subterfuge and surprise to slit his throat. Much like she used the already vulnerable position of the Tickler to butcher him, or later lures Raff to his doom. Or even the Northern guard when she escapes Harrenhal. (Their individual guilt is not the point. She kills by underhanded means, again and again.)

The case of Dareon is vigilantism, and it is at least partly fuelled by disappointed Anger because he fails to be an opportunity to bring her where she wants to be. And because his desertion is one thing she can identify as wrong and has the means to punish.

It is satisfying on the surface but it is not justice. There is no protocoll, no structure, no community, no authority. 

There were questions asked and answers given there in the chill of morning, but afterward Bran could not recall much of what had been said. Finally his lord father gave a command, and two of his guardsmen dragged the ragged man to the ironwood stump in the center of the square. (…)

His father peeled off his gloves and handed them to Jory Cassel, the captain of his household guard. He took hold of Ice with both hands and said, "In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the word of Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, I do sentence you to die." He lifted the greatsword high above his head. (…)

“The blood of the First Men still flows in the veins of the Starks, and we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die.

"One day, Bran, you will be Robb's bannerman, holding a keep of your own for your brother and your king, and justice will fall to you. When that day comes, you must take no pleasure in the task, but neither must you look away. A ruler who hides behind paid executioners soon forgets what death is."

 (AGOT, Bran I)

She never witnessed this. And it shows. She passes the sentence and swings the sword, but she leaves out the important part that means enacting justice in the name of a higher authority that bestowed this duty onto you - part of a structure and community - and she leaves out the aspect of communication displayed by Ned, and explained by Ned. It’s not about the unaware mutterings of an oblivious assassination victim. It is about openly confronting a perpetrator with his crime. Arya practices vengeful murder. 

And I get why. Arya witnessed trials gone awry a-plenty. Lady was sentenced to death for nothing. Ned confesses and gets a surprise beheading. The Hound never had to pay for Mycah’s murder. In his trial by combat he kills Beric. 

I get why this desperately furious child is going down this route. But that doesn’t mean it is right. And I don’t think GRRM wants to imply that it is right. He is showing us harrowing tragedy on the page. 

[permian-tropos]

The theory/headcanon whatever that me and @excalibutt thought up while playing Bachelor route Day 7: 

Bear in mind it’s not airtight. 

It started with us doodling around being flippant and morbid about Eva’s disappearance because we slept at the Stillwater to be close to the Cathedral to talk to Aglaya, and were wondering if Eva would just despawn, it turned out we had to leave and re-enter the building, which I joked meant she climbed out the window, how did she switch places with Ayan so fast, etc.  

But because we had this wonky timeline where we were going to the Cathedral at the exact same time when Eva should have been, yet of course we didn’t see her Do The Thing, though we received her suicide note while we were literally standing right inside the main entrance (did it fall from the sky?? Daniil look up you fucking idiot!! oh god he doesn’t know) and where Andrey learns of her disappearance quite a while before she actually does disappear...

That set me up to imagine for fun that maybe something else was going on. 

Then we did the main quest where one of the people who’s been spies for the PTB turns out to be a traitor of some sort and once you catch them with riddle logic Aglaya pushes them off the top floor of the Cathedral. She says they did it themselves. They were just having a normal conversation up there with no railings huh. Yeah ok gurl. 

But this evil fuckin thought popped into my head. That person’s in an Executor costume. You don’t know who’s in it. What if it’s Eva?

Because it would be so incredibly fucked UP and twisty if it turned out that was the case. If Eva was one of the people watching Daniil for the PTB, I mean she tries so hard to ingratiate herself to him doesn’t she? And she would be able to keep track of everything he does and send him letters at the right time.

When she says “I’ve figured out a way to help you”, why would her death and consecrating the Cathedral be that helpful to Daniil in the moment while he’s trying to fight the plague? Sure it might prove you can defeat Death in some mystical way, but imagine if she’s aware the PTB want to destroy him, she’s gotten Actually Attached To Her Assignment UWU, and she’s decided to turn traitor. 

She doesn’t give anyone any sign of this, leaving behind a false trail to distract Andrey and writing up a dreamy, sentimental note for Daniil because he can’t be held accountable for her treason if he doesn’t know what’s going on.

And then Daniil doesn’t see Eva jump from the Cathedral no matter when he arrives there, because he does see the Watcher jump. The one he accused of being a traitor and brought directly to Aglaya. 

I’ve always been curious about the fact that she dies in Bachelor route but I’ve been told she doesn’t die in other routes in Classic, as if... you do something that causes her death by succeeding your quests as Dankovsky? But that doesn’t seem right... does it?

I’m not saying this theory actually holds up in canon I just don’t like Eva’s canon story so much sorry think it would be fascinating. 

[amphtaminedreams]

Paris Haute Couture Week S/S 2020 Plus a Little Jacquemus: Okay, Dior DID Suck (Part 1/2)

Hi to anyone reading,

Oh my god. I completely forgot there was also 2 haute couture weeks. I FEEL SO OVERWHELMED. Here I was getting all geared up for the F/W 2020 shows and suddenly it’s Jean Paul Gaultier’s last show and everybody’s (predictably) buzzing about the Jacquemus collection. I can’t keep up. But Haute Couture week is a lot less intense than the RTW shows so I suppose I should be enjoying this relative peace whilst I can. 

I remember my last post about Haute Couture week opened with me defending Maria Grazia from the wrath of the internet; if Jacquemus is social media’s Lord and Saviour, this woman is the Antichrist. She’s Michael Langdon minus the dramatic flair. But the thing is, I genuinely really liked the Dior collection last time. Maybe because I was newer to the discipline of scouring Vogue Runway, but the lack of originality didn’t bother me; it was still something I’d die to wear, gothic yet delicate and relevant for 2019. 

That being said, this time round, I have to open by doing the exact opposite and concurring: this time round, Dior was in fact, utter shit.

I feel mean saying it but...really? These were the slightly more salvageable outfits and my favourite of the bunch, and to be honest they don’t really capture the full extent of how outdated this collection was to me. I know that the concept behind the show was this idea of the divine feminine but Greek Goddess has been done SO many times. If you’re gonna go down that route, you have to bring something new, elevate it in some way. It can’t be THIS generic.

I can’t believe that in 2020 we’re really seeing plaited hairbands. The individual dresses are basic, but not so much the problem as the styling; they look like outfits I would’ve put together back in 2012. That’s not an exaggeration. I think even 2013 me would appreciate that you need to make things a little twisty. 

The colour scheme is pretty, don’t get me wrong, and I like the cowl necks-the white dresses are the highlights. I think the concept of this collection was conceived with all the best intentions. But as a designer you need to take risks and I don’t see one single risk here; there isn’t anything that wouldn’t already be sold in your local H&M. Dior is such an established brand, Maria Grazia has room to do whatever she wants. And yet it just comes across like she’s out of ideas. 

You’ve got to look at a designer like Ulyana Sergeenko:

When I say elevated (but still in the vein of wearable), I mean something like this. To be completely honest, I hadn’t heard of Ulyana Sergeenko until I saw shots of this show on Twitter. But what a perfect mix of kitsch and glamour. The influences are clear: Priscilla Presley, Barbie, Jackie O, Valley of the Dolls, the rich stay-at-home wife of the 60s, the Alessandra Rich/Scream Queens-esque sorority girl, Paris fucking Hilton. It’s exaggerated and it’s tongue in cheek with total grounds to call it trashy-there’s a corset resembling a Benjamin Franklin, ffs-but it’s all done with a wink and a nudge. And in all honesty, I just think it’s beautiful. Can you imagine Frances O’Sullivan (@Beautyspock on IG) in one of these looks? It would be worthy of the Rose McGowan cultural reset meme ten times over.

Everything is feline, from the very literal cat silhouettes and cat headed boa, to the makeup and the hair clips. It reminds me of the last RTW Ralph and Russo show but with even more attention to detail. And look at the STAGE. If this collection were a song, it’d be Disco Tits by Tove Lo. And no, I’m not just saying that because one of the dresses actually does feature a (cat shaped) disco tit. Like these are the clothes I dreamed of putting my Bratz dolls, and for null I’m sure, myself in. Absolute perfection. Plus, I’ve loved Coco Rocha since she was on The Face with Naomi Campbell; she is, after all, to thank for the iconic “check your lipstick before you come for me” line. Girl is really the martyr for all purple lipstick lovers, cut down in her prime by a pissed-off Naomi. 

Onto Alexandre Vauthier, which I also really liked. An interesting yet effortless blend of the old and the new, the masculine and the feminine, if I could sum this collection up in one word, it would be cool. I know, it’s not the most descriptive, but it pretty much sums up how I feel; I’m not AS gassed about it as I am about Ulyana Sergeenko or this season’s Elie Saab (wait for it), but it’s a fresh offering, even if the styles aren’t the most groundbreaking. Stand outs for me are the almost petticoat like, debutante dresses which have Elle Fanning’s name written all over them.

I was hard pressed to find favourites in the Armani Privé collection if I’m honest. I’m not saying it was awful, all I know is that it just isn’t my style. It’s all a bit TOO tailored for my liking, and kinda reminds me of the Zara pantsuits my Spanish teacher used to wear. In other words, I find it to be a bit dowdy. On a positive note, the colours, fabrics, and beading are all stunning, so I see that a lot of craftsmanship clearly went into it; I think my biggest issue is the styling and the shapes (or lack of) on show. I’m very much getting a 20s, flapper vibe and whilst that’s an era that fascinates me and that I appreciate was cutting-edge at the time, I’ve yet to see it be bought into the 21st century in a way that doesn’t look stiff or costume-y. 

Then there’s Azzaro. At the complete opposite end of the scale to Armani, it doesn’t look expensive, which I’m sure isn’t something any designer previewing their collection at haute couture week is striving for. BUT that being said, I’d be much more likely to wear something from this collection than I would from Armani Privé. I mean, I have no shot at ever wearing either but ya get me. 

Whilst I’m sure it or something similar has been done before, the mesh diamanté dress is exquisite and I’m a huge fan of the stacked gem chokers and belts. The whole collection looks like something a London socialite who parties by night but (deep breath in) plays in a shitty band so fancies herself a bit of a rockstar by day would wear (exhale) and as much as that doesn’t sound like a compliment, I mean it as one. I’m talking about the kind of person you’d see smoking outside a bar and think “I wish I was them but I am potato lol”. I mean, as far as faux fur and fedoras are concerned, I’m gonna find it hard to completely slate a collection so this is pretty up my alley.

Chanel was a huge step up from their last RTW collection, imo, and probably on par with their last haute couture offering. It’s that same blend of preppy Chanel detailing (i.e the exaggerated collars, the checks and the lace) and practicality, only even more austere this time round.

It’s funny because when I looked back on original notes on this collection, before I’d even done any research into the context, I saw that one of the things I’d written was “giving me Victorian orphanage madame” as well as “something something Amish” and I wasn’t THAT far off base. The collection is, after all, supposed to be a tribute to the nuns who raised Coco Chanel at the beginning of the century in an Abbey-cum-orphanage. This makes me really happy; I know not everyone’s a fan of Virginie Viard’s nods back to the past and the brand’s origins but as a history nerd, I definitely am. 

There’s also definitely a lot of things that can be translated into high street trends here: the combination of decorative white socks and black shoes is something I’ve seen making a comeback already, tulle is always a winner (I actually don’t mind it as an overlay, I think it’s pretty, sue me) and I have no doubt we’ll be seeing these dramatic collars creeping back onto tops and jumpers throughout the year. It’s been a while since they were a thing anyway and we all know how cyclical fashion is.

Another high note for Elie Saab this haute couture season; if I was an expressive person, I probably would’ve audibly gasped as I looked through this collection. It is SO FUCKING MAGNIFICENT. The colour scheme, the baroque prints, the floral sequinned embroidery, these are Cinderella style ballgowns taken to the next level. Elie Saab really is the definition of opulence and I’m not at all mad about it. Please, somebody put Lana Del Rey in one of these, PLEASE. Remind her how much of a princess she is and get her out of those “soccer mom” looks.

I’m so stuck between this collection and Ulyana Sergeenko as my favourite, and the latter might just pip the other to the post, purely because of the staging and extravagance of the presentation itself. 

Georges Hobeika was predictably phenomenal. Like, I’m not going to lie, I am easily won over by some sequins and tulle, I’ve never claimed any different, and if you can expect that from anyone, it’s this guy (ignore that phrasing making me sound like his proud mother). The colour scheme is very spring appropriate and so is the 3D flower detailing, and if there’s anything good to take from Ascot and English royal weddings, Georges Hobeika knows it’s the hats.

It was another strong year for Givenchy too:

Though Claire Waight Keller is also fond of the extravagant details along the lines of feather and tulle, it’s always done in a more organic way; the details are always more reminiscent of nature, something created by accident, than they are suggestive of painstaking attention to detail, the image of someone hunched over a dress beading for hours on end à la Georges Hobeika or Elie Saab. That is not a bad thing at all; if anything, it makes Givenchy more interesting to study and gives you more to think about. Sometimes a dress takes you a bit longer to fully appreciate, but I’d say that only lends to its memorability. This year’s willowy, billowing, and at times coral-esque structures  remind me of something I can see being worn down an Iris Van Herpen runway, set apart by that delicate Givenchy finesse. And side not: I know this post is to talk about the clothes, not the models, but I got super excited over seeing Sora Choi and Adut Akech walk too. 

Guo Pei is always fun to look at. I mean, this collection is giving me half Matryoshka dolls, half It’s A Small World Christmas edition and I can’t hate on that. 

And then there’s Iris Van Herpen, who knocked it out of the park once again. At this point, I wouldn’t expect anything less. Every outfit looks like something that could be exhibited in the Tate Modern (I know, it’s a basic opinion, but it’s true: TATE MODERN IS THE BEST MUSEUM IN LONDON), or honestly, the Design Museum, just for the genius that must go into the way these dresses move. Honestly, if I can see a goddess wearing anything, it’s more one of these looks than anything in the Dior collection. Like wife of Poseidon or something; I know it’s not very feminist of me to not know the Greek Goddess of the sea’s name but I only know who Poseidon is because I was a Percy Jackson fan back in the day so let me live.

It’s not like the whole under-the-sea theme is particularly new, Zimmerman did something similar last RTW (I think? Correct me if I’m wrong), but these constructions could’ve grown out of the sea bed themselves, which is more of an original take than “oo, blue and white and frothy hemlines!”. Additionally, we’ve got these dresses with the overlapping almost plaited fabric that are-we’re sticking with the goddess references here-fit for Persephone ruling over hell. As for the Grudge-looking dress (fourth down, far left), I could be reaching, but is anyone else seeing that as a nod to the oil spills polluting our oceans? Because that would just add yet another layer to this collection. 

Regardless, it’s all impeccable and I’m in love. Iris Van Herpen as a MET Gala theme. Make it happen.

Anyway, to end on a high note, that’s it for this post! 

Sorry it’s such a sudden cut-off but Jean Paul Gaultier was due to be my second to last to review and due to it being the final show, there’s an onslaught of photos that would not fit with what’s already in this post. Plus, I’d rather start a post with Jacquemus then end it as I feel like there’s a lot of hype around his collections online right now so 1). it’s clickbait (for what, I do not know, as I’m not exactly making any money off this blog, just losing my sanity as it transpires when Tumblr accidentally terminated it earlier today and I had a minor breakdown) and 2). this Steve Buscemi meme is the most accurate representation of only 21 year old me to grace the internet:

I will aim to post part 2/2 in the next week, including JPG, as I just mentioned, the Jacquemus co-ed show, Margiela, Valentino and more, and as always, thank you for anyone who read until the end! You are an angel:-)

Lauren x

[monsoonblooms12]

Detectives By Chance: Chapter 4- Seeking and Chasing

A/N: Hi, how is everyone doing💫💛? I finally completed the 4th chapter, phew. I am really sorry for the delay, It has been some time ( a month to be precise). But I hope that you enjoy reading this💛. Thank you for all the love that you have given the earlier chapters and I love you all very much 💛

Thank you so very much @ohramsey​ for everything. I love you x infinite and I will miss you so much😭🤍❤

Series Summary: It was supposed to be a usual weekend for the four. Coffee, fun, friends and love. But an unexpected case changed their lives in a way they had never imagined. A mystery - a murder - many secrets… Will Ethan, Pooja, Alexandra and Mark, be able to survive? Or will the circumstances twist and break their lives forever?

Pairing: Ethan × f!MC (Dr. Pooja Sharma)

Disclaimer: PB owns most of the characters. I only own the OCs and my MC.

Word count: 2.3K 

Triggers: Mentions of blood, murder

For Ethan and Pooja, a mutual day off was once in a blue moon thing. So whenever they had one, they would put the world out of their mind and remain engrossed in each other.

And now, after getting a cherished day off for the first time in at least one and a half months, they were sitting here scrutinizing the clues they had assembled from the crime scene.

They sat down on the couch, opened their laptops and kept auxiliary notebooks with them to note any admissible details they could find. Ethan took the three pieces of paper and stationed them down on the coffee table.

The first one was the third bloody note that Pooja had received.

It said: "Ahh, here you are. I knew, I knew you would come. You bastards are as obstinate as I am. But don't worry, I like it. So, did you like my pretty little portrayal that I had made for you? All this is just a sprinkle of my intuitive plan. The real game hasn't even begun yet. Just wait and be on your guard for my twisties and turnsies."

"Hasn't this person done enough? What the freaking hell does he want?" Pooja said, on the brink of tears. She was literally done with this pathetic game of blood.

Ethan hugged her tightly. "Calm down, Love. It hurts me to see you like this. We will find out everything. We will find this person, and we will make them compensate for their sins. I promise." 

"Ethan, I love you so much. Please be with me ad infinitum." Pooja planted a featherlight kiss on Ethan's cheek. 

"I will, Baby, I will, I love you too," Ethan assured her, while tenderly wiping off her tears. 

"And... you don't have to use fancy terms to tell me to love you forever."

At this, Pooja let out a tee-hee.

After she had calmed down, they looked at the second piece of paper. It was a drug store receipt.

"Propofol?"

"If this is a receipt left-back by the murderer, then why Propofol, did they feel remorseful for Davis? " Pooja scoffed. 

"Remorseful? I sure as hell that's not the case." 

Pooja's question lingered in Ethan's mind. Why would, he thought, the murder make the patient unconscious? So that he doesn't shout?

Maybe. Maybe not.

Poke Poke. Pooja poked at his side, bringing him back to reality.

 "A penny for your thoughts?"

" Just thinking about propofol."

" And what does the mind of the world-class diagnostician say about that?"

" As for now, it says nothing essential."

"But?"

"there is a what if."

"And that is?"

" What if the criminal is right in our plain sight?"

" So, as I understand, you are suggesting that the murder is someone-"

"From the hospital. It would be the easiest for a staff member to do everything, isn't it?"

" Hmmm. Although it is a stab in the dark, it is a pretty commendable reasoning. Good job Mr Mitter."

"Mr what?"

"You don't know Mr. Mitter??!! You need to catch up on your detective knowledge, Ramsey. We need to go on a mystery novel-reading spree, ASAP!"

"Don't you think that's just irrelevant to what we are discussing?"

"Excuse You! How the hell are mysteries irrelevant in a discussion of mysteries?" 

Pooja made a phoney, angry face that made Ethan laugh.

" Okay, so number one you are looking ridiculous with that face and number two maybe, I agree with you, just a little."

"WAIT"

"Did you just... give in and agree with me? The Ethan freaking Ramsey accepted his defeat?"

"How is this def-"

"I will write about this day in golden letters in my autobiography."

"Autobiography?" Ethan was chuckling like an idiot.

"Hey, what do you think? I can't write an autobiography or what?"

"No, no, of course, you can! But I really wanna know if you are going to write about your escapades with Jenner or the sleep-talks you do all night. Or maybe about the variety of chocolate you like."

"ETHAN!"

"Okay Okay, I will stop. Let's look at the third bit of paper." 

The third paper was a visiting card. Or something that looked like visiting card held together with a lot of tape. The name on it was too faded for them to interpret. However, they could make out the address and the designation which, surprisingly, was Dr.

All the lingers of laughter and joy from the previous exchange dispersed and seriousness took its place.

"So, this person is a doctor. Very Peculiar!" Pooja remarked.

"What about all this is not uncommon, Poo? Even if they are a doctor, why target you and Alex? How does this person even know you both?" Ethan said, a tinge of anger lingering in his tone.

Pooja absently fiddled with the card while suddenly something caught her eye. In tiny handwriting, the letters D.I.B.S.15. She presented it to Ethan.

"What is this supposed to mean?"

"It looks like some cryptic message to me. Maybe the murderer wrote it absently on this card. We need to infer its meaning. It can be crucial."

"Hmm. Seems, like we have a lot of investigation to do. But at first, let's note down the enigmas we need to find the answers of."

They grabbed a notebook and wrote down all the lingering inquiries and matters about which they were going to seek.

Who is Mr Davis? Why was he targeted?

Why did no one from his acquaintances never come to question about him?

Why did the murderer target Pooja and Alex? How does he know them?

How was the murder perpetrated?

The addresses

MedMinder Drug Store

D.I.B.S.15

"Ethan?"

"Hmm?"

"Should we call the medical store? They might have vital information about the person who bought their stuff."

"Sure they will, reckoning that the person who bought the stuff is the same as the one who murdered Mr Davis."

"Or, you know, we can go there. Like check out both the addresses personally? So many facts are not present on the 'net. We may find something worthwhile for the case or maybe, even find the mastermind?"

"I was contemplating the same thing. But I wanted to take Mark and Alex with us. After all, four brains are more dependable than two." Pooja snickered a little. 

"Sure. I will shoot them both a text to meet us up after their shifts get over." 

But there was no need to do that. When Pooja unplugged her phone from the charger, she saw their texts. Both of them had taken an off early and were en route to Ethan's penthouse.

After fifteen minutes, Mark and Alex arrived. Ethan and Pooja filled them up with everything they had come across.

Then they told them about their plan of visiting the two addresses. 

"That would be incredible. But before that, you both should know the autopsy results." Mark said. 

"The Autopsy result came?" Pooja asked. 

"Yup, this morning. And guess what?"

"The cause of death is not the throat slit. It is Acute Cyanide Poisoning. The throat was slit afterwards." Alex informed them.

"What the hell?" Pooja remarked, wide-eyed.

"All this is so seriously messed up, isn't it?"

"The person has a medical history. They would know the dosage. Also, looking at the kind of criminal he is, it would not have been too difficult for him to arrange the cyanide." Ethan stated. 

"But Why Mr. Davis? I don't understand" Alex queried curiously. 

"Let's get going. I am sure we will get at least some of our answers from these two addresses." 

The four grabbed their coats, took the three clues, packed their tab and set off. The first address on Lyon Avenue was not far from Ethan and Pooja's place. 

They arrived there in ten minutes and spent another five minutes in searching the store.

The drug store was not very busy, dimly illuminated and smelt fusty. 

The man at the counter didn't even notice them coming until, 

"Ahm" 

Ethan cleared his throat. 

The man almost jumped out of his seat. Regaining his composure, he said, "How, ahem, How may I help you?" 

"We need some information. Can you remember who was the person who bought these from you?" Pooja said, handing him the receipt. 

"I am sorry, but information of our customers is confidential. We can not reveal it to anyone except security personals or family member."

Uh Oh. Now what? Nothing a sprinkle of drama can't resolve. 

"Um, Actually the person who bought these from you was most probably my brother. And he is missing for the last three days. So we are searching for information which can lead up to him." Mark said.

Either The shopkeeper was disinterested in their explanation or whatever he said about confidentiality was a lie because he didn't question Mark. He just eyed him sceptically and revealed,

"It was four days ago. I don't remember quite well, but I can give you some information. It was a man of medium height, wearing a high collared black jacket. He wore sleek black sunglasses and a mask. He did not speak anything but handed me the list of items he needed.

He made his payment in cash. When I asked if he was a medical professional, he showed me his visiting card. The card seemed pretty old and unkempt, but the designation Dr. was visible. So I didn't think much and gave him his things. That's all I can recollect."

"Was the visiting card that he showed similar to this?" Ethan asked, presenting the visiting card they had.

"Let me see."

"Yup, the font does seem similar." 

"Seems like this might be our man. Thank you very much for the information." Mark said before they started to exit the shop.

"Wait a sec." The man at the counter beckoned them.

They turned back.

"What is it?"

"I just remembered something. The man, he gave me an extra 20 bucks. When I informed him that he had given me extra cash, he gestured me to keep it. Also, when he was handing over the money, he folded up the left sleeve of his shirt, and there were numerous cut marks on it." The man at the counter told them.

The instant they heard about the cuts, they got the confirmation of their lingering suspicions.

This man was the murderer, and he was the one who was sending them the bloody notes.

The four thanked the man, and as a gesture of gratitude handed him some bucks. Then they left the shop and set off for their next destination.

Once seated back in the car, Pooja said, "So now we know that we are following the right person. Maybe the second address will tell us more."

"Mark, How did you deduce the murderer to be a man?" Alex asked.

"Just took a wild speculation. And because I have,"

Mark stopped.

"had a brother, that came out spontaneously." Mark's voice held traces of pain and brought out the confrontation among his thoughts.

But he quickly regained composure and said, "But thank god the guess was right. If not, we would be in a hell of a mess."

Mark laughed a bit, but his laughter sounded somewhat void.

For the rest of the journey, there was no conversation. A deafening muteness fell in the car, but no one tried to rip through it.

The journey to the second address took 20 minutes.

But they were a bit taken aback from the situation of the place.

It was a cryptic, morose part of the city, and it was awkward for a doctor to set up their practice here. In the entire street, darkness lurked. Flickers of light were visible in some of the houses.

Ethan, Pooja and Alex started to walk down the street slowly to locate the private clinic, but Mark stayed behind.

It was as if distasteful remembrances came to him, inundating him, due to the sight in front of him.

There was a glimmer of identification of the area in his eyes.

After walking a few steps, Alex realized that Mark was not with them.

At first, she began to panic, but when she turned around and saw Mark standing by the car, sighed in relaxation.

"MARK, MARK" Alex beckoned him.

Alex's voice caused Ethan and Pooja to turned around. They, too, detected Mark and the three started to pace towards the car.

"Mark, what happened?" Alex asked after arriving at the car, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Then she spotted the tears rolling down Mark's face.

Before she could say anything, Mark hugged her and broke into stringent sobs. His entire body was shuddering with every cry.

Ethan and Pooja quickly went beside him, trying to calm him down while Alex held him in her embrace.

"Mark, Honey, what happened? Is something wrong? Are you feeling unwell or something?" Alex asked, panic apparent in her voice.

Sensing her dread, Mark tried to regain his composure. And he succeeded a bit.

Breaking himself from Alex's embrace but holding her hand for strength, he levelled up. The other three looked at him, concern and curiosity both unambiguous on their faces.

"T-T-This place, I k-know this place." Mark began, voice trembling a bit.

"You do?" Pooja asked.

"Y-yup. This place, it endures as the beholder of the pain my family went through. All our sufferings, all our cries started here and ended h-here." Mark said, on the verge of tears.

"Mark, if you don't want to talk about it, it is okay, you don't have to," Ethan said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"N-No, I have to say this. I have to tell you."

Mark took a pause.

"T-T-This place is where m-my c-childhood home is."

The grief that we hide from the world, that we bury deep in our soul, when it comes out, it twists knives in a way that rips through all our soul leaving us as shredded as we were when we encountered it.

PS: This case had pulled strings which no one had expected. But will these strings tug the answers with them? This chapter feels like the beginning of the end. What do you think, is Mark's dilemma? What about Pooja's childhood? And what new challenge will the murderer place in front of them?

Every question will be answered and every Mystery will be solved. They might be Detectives by chance but their skills know no bound.

If you enjoyed the story, please like, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going 💕. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you have a great day ahead.💕💕

[queen-scribbles]

13, 14 and 15 for all detectives and routes from the Wayhaven Routes Questions, please!

Mallory

13. Did your detective save A or Sanja? Why do you think they do so? And how are they feeling about the aftermath? (Sanja dying, A getting hurt, both being fine in the end)

Mallory saved Sanja. It was a harder choice than she expected it to be, given that Sanja was their mission and she would technically count as a non-combatant, so her protection would be priority even without the maa-alused treaty in the picture(my girl is nothing if not a protector). But Mallory started flashing back to Murphy jamming a dagger in Adam’s ribs the second she saw him in trouble, so she did actually hesitate the barest fraction of a second(we are not going to talk about the “You need to let go” parallels between here and after the Murphy fight in book one. my heart). That fight and him being so hurt are what finally started her denial of her feelings crumbling into absolute dust... (also gave her big-time PTSD flashbacks, so that was really fun) 

14. If your detective did save Sanja, how do they feel about the famous “Tu Omnia”? If they saved A, how are they feeling about them saying that they are glad that they thought of them first? (But, of course, they say they mustn’t feel this way)

...And then hurt, drugged-up Adam admits he’s glad he didn’t have to choose between her and Sanja(implying he’s not sure he would have Made The Right Call) and her heart just about stopped for a minute, before we even get to the Tu Omnia. Which. Oh man. OH MAN. Mallory walked out of that room with her hands shaking and had to lean against the closed door for a minute to get her emotions under control or there were about three different directions of breakdown she might’ve gone. As someone who mutters under her breath in Hebrew a lot when she doesn’t want other people to know what she’s saying, she has a pretty good guess why Adam went to Latin for that (not-so)little confession (too bad for him she knows Latin :3), which is why she doesn’t ever bring it up. (Well, that and me loving the idea of Adam not knowing she understood him until he sees her Latin tattoo and Panicking)

15. What is your detective’s relationship with Rebecca like? If they saw the conversation that she has with A before the end of Book 2, what would they think?

Mallory and Rebecca had a pretty good relationship. They’re not as close as AJ or Janine are to their Rebeccas, but they’re definitely on good terms. I guess it’s more... professional? for Mallory and Rebecca until the beginning of Book 2, when Rebecca says she doesn’t regret the consequences for giving Unit Bravo the DMB to help rescue Mallory. Mallory knows how much her mother loves her job, so that she was willing to risk it for her is when they start moving toward being actual mother-daughter close.

If she’d overheard that conversation.... well, first of all, it would make her smile to hear Rebecca’s proud of her. The rest of it would leave a hollow ache in her chest that she not sure if it’s due to Adam’s denying Rebecca has anything to worry about or how much he struggled with it after Rebecca’s clarification she was asking as a mother. 

AJ

13. Did your detective save N or Sanja? Why do you think they do so? And how are they feeling about the aftermath? (Sanja dying, N getting hurt, both being fine in the end) Do they regret their decision?

She saved Sanja. Sanja was the one they were there to save, and Nate told her not to worry about him. Didn’t make it easy, by any stretch, and she panicked just a tad when she saw how badly he was hurt as a result. But she didn’t regret it, and she knew Nate wouldn’t either, even before he said as much. 

14. What do you think drew your detective to N? And when exactly was the moment, where it was “yes, I like them” (If they’ve admitted that to themselves, of course) And if not, what’s stopping them at this point?

Answered!

15.  What is your detective’s relationship with Rebecca like? If they saw the conversation that she has with N before the end of Book 2, what would they think?

AJ has a really great relationship with Rebecca. They talk whenever they get the chance and she always looks forward to the occasions Rebecca manages to visit.  If she’d seen the conversation between Nate and Rebecca at the end of book 2, she first reaction would’ve been indignation that Rebecca could even think Nate would ever hurt her(come on, that’s ridiculous. Right?), followed by near melting into a puddle at his response. 

Janine

13. Did your detective save F or Sanja? Why do you think they do so? And how are they feeling about the aftermath? (Sanja dying, F getting hurt, both being fine in the end) Do they regret their decision?

Sanja, but oh my god, it was so much harder for her than anyone else.Even if saving Sanja was the reason they were there, she had to force herself to do it instead of saving Felix. And then he got hurt so bad and Janine was an absolute wreck until the doctor assured them he’d be okay. Absolutely cuddled and was Big Spoon bc her protective instincts were in overdrive.She doesn’t regret saving Sanja, but she does regret that Felix got hurt, even if he is a vampire with healing abilities and was fine by morning.

14. What do you think drew your detective to F? And when exactly was the moment, where it was “yes, I like them” (If they’ve admitted that to themselves, of course) And if not, what’s stopping them at this point?

Definitely how joyful he is, and how heart-on-sleeve, no holds barred, infectiously open he is about it. He’s fun to spend time with, makes her smile(and trip over her words, which is no mean feat), and never holds back from complimenting people he cares about(She gets a lot of that, but there’s also the super casual, “Oh yeah, Nate knows, like all the languages” type ones, where even if he’s teasing in the process, he’s still complimenting someone from UB). She knew she liked him by the whole vampire reveal in book 1, was about 60% sure she was in love by the unicorn necklace, 80% by time they actually started dating, and is 98% sure she’s in love by the end of book 2.

15.  What is your detective’s relationship with Rebecca like? If they saw the conversation that she has with F before the end of Book 2, what would they think? 

Very close(all my girls love their mama. If I had to rank it though, it’s AJ->Janine->Mallory->Kasey), mostly through effort on Janine’s part thanks to how busy Rebecca is. She’ll call and leave a message if Rebecca can’t talk, just “Hey, Mum, wanted to say hi [insert something about her day] and let you know I love you.” type things.That conversation? Ohgod. You want her reaction before or after she melted into a Detective-shaped puddle at “When we kiss she doesn’t break. She smiles.”? XD That was... that was adorable and she’d be walking around grinning the entire rest of the night, not even remembering anything else she overheard.

Kasey

13. Did your detective save M or Sanja? Why do you think they do so? And how are they feeling about the aftermath? (Sanja dying, M getting hurt, both being fine in the end) Do they regret their decision?

Sanja, again. (look I love her. And the vamps all have healing, it’s fine. Bonus: juicy, juicy ANGST) Mason said not to worry about him, and Sanja was clearly in big trouble, being restrained and all. Even if Mason wasn’t exactly in a good position, at least he could fight back. Sanja couldn’t. Afterward there’s this weird twisty feeling almost like guilt that she hides under sarcasm and giving him shit(teasing him by kissing just the corner of his mouth)

14. What do you think drew your detective to M? And when exactly was the moment, where it was “yes, I like them” (If they’ve admitted that to themselves, of course) And if not, what’s stopping them at this point?

Well, he’s hot. And there’s the innuendo-laden flirting that had her all CHALLENGE ACCEPTED. And we can’t forget the Cherry Conversation in her canon run that had her very 

She has not admitted to herself she likes him for reasons beyond physical attraction, competitive flirting, and great sex, bc admitting that will mean letting herself be vulnerable in ways that make her uncomfortable to think about. (She doesn’t realize that yet; she’s sorta doing the same thing he is right now, the whole “man, you’re hot and great in bed, that’s totally all there is to it, there’s no deeper reason I’m drawn to you, none at all :D”)

15.  What is your detective’s relationship with Rebecca like? If they saw the conversation that she has with M before the end of Book 2, what would they think?

She’s on okay terms with Rebecca. They’re not super close, but they get along and she’ll hug her when she sees her.

If she’d overheard that conversation, her first thought would probably have been along the lines of “Damn straight I’m not sorry” bc she’d be thinking just in reference to the flirting/sex and she’s enjoyed both of those things immensely. Then she’d maybe think about Rebecca’s tone and wonder for juuuust a second if there was a deeper meaning before brushing it off.

Wayhaven Route Asks

[thathonleygirl]

The Beginning

November 2019 – June 2020 Background

I decided to start this documentation of my journey into motorcycling for many reasons, mainly because I want to work on my writing skills and sometimes it’s nice to take a break from the mindless scrolling. I also think I’ll enjoy going back and reading this when I’m less of a rookie I’ll be recreating the timeline from the MSF course to the present from memory. I decided to dive into motorcycling as a hobby for myself, and also as a hobby for me to share with my boyfriend of 2+ years, Chris. Ultimately I can confidently say he inspired me to ride on my own and has been so supportive every step of the way.

November 2019 – MSF Class & getting my motorcycle endorsement I remember this weekend like it was yesterday. It was a freezing weekend and I’m out in the parking lot of RCCC bundled up from head to toe. I was happy it was cold because I was super nervous and excited, and heat stresses me out. There’s about 15 of us in the class, and right off the bat everyone is super friendly because we’re all here for the same thing – there was defiantly a wide range of skill levels and reasons for taking the class – but we’re all there for the same class. The two teachers of the class were AWESOME, and I’ll remember them for the rest of my riding career. They took us through the basics – controls, friction zone, etc. and soon we were riding through the first set of drills. My bike was a Kawasaki Eliminator from the 1800’s and it kept shutting off due to the cold weather. It also was impossible to find neutral, even the instructors couldn’t find it – I was just relieved that it wasn’t operator error. At the end of the 1st riding day they both told me they were impressed and proud of how I did – which meant so much to me considering I had never touched a clutch before, lol. The second day was a little rough, but still a success, mainly because I began to overthink every little thing because I knew there was going to be a test at the end of the day. This is when I first learned the importance of your headspace when on the bike, and how too much anxiety can be catastrophic. That being said, I still passed the class and got my endorsement the next week I really wish I had gotten the contact info for the people in the class, but the excitement of passing the class got the best of me.

March 2020 – Meeting Jolene I’d be lying if I said the process of bringing Jolene home was smooth, and the truth is I have a newfound hatred for dealerships and salespeople, LOL. But it was all well worth it. I went to Team Charlotte Motorsports with the intention of buying a Honda Rebel 500 in all black, but was disappointed when they didn’t have the right colors, and the bike just didn’t feel right when I first sat on one. But oh boy, when I first sat on Jolene I knew she was the one and I knew I had to have her. I’ve always been super laid back but when my mind is set on something, I get DETERMINED. After leaving the dealership because the price was too high, I began to obsess. After a week of negotiating and an extra fiery in-person negotiation, I finally got the price I wanted and Chris rode her home the next day. The whole process was rewarding in the sense of getting what I want and not backing down!

March-April 2020 – Attitude Adjustment I was off to a ROCKY start, and a few times I lost a lot of hope and had a lot of “WTF did I get myself into?!” moments in my first few loops around our neighborhood. My bike felt 100x heavier and harder to maneuver than my Eliminator, and my nerves were getting the best of me. I was scared to even let out the clutch at first. But after a few times stalling, I was doing loops in first gear around the neighborhood. On the third round of neighborhood loops, I was having a moment overthinking a left turn from a stop sign, and dropped the bike after it stalled and jerked in the middle of the turn. It was a devastating moment because my immediate reaction was that I just ruined my brand new bike in less than 100 miles, and the salt in the wound was the fact that I couldn’t pick the bike up. Luckily, a good Samaritan neighbor was close by with help, and the bike was totally fine (just wasn’t in neutral so it wouldn’t start). Not even a scratch, I’m a lucky girl. I spent some time feeling sorry for myself and hopeless but that was getting me nowhere. In that moment, I realized one theme in all my “practice” – I was scared of my bike, and was not taking control over her like I should be. I began to try and change my mindset, and just love the fuck out of her like she was my best friend. It’s crazy how much your mental state affects performance, especially on a motorcycle. As my attitude shifted, so did my confidence and success. After endless neighborhood loops and sideways stares from the neighbors, I finally made it out on the road (just down the street to the nearest park, but out of the neighborhood nevertheless! That was a game changing feeling for me. That is what it’s all about.

April 2020 – Real Deal At this point, im still having pretty intense nerves before every ride, but I have made it out of Edison Square (finally). The first ride ALL THE WAY out of the neighborhood was me following Chris who was driving his truck, leading me on what would become my trusty loop. We wanted to take some pictures for Instagram, which I’ve been trying to grow since I got Jolene. The biker community on social media is AWESOME, it’s incredible how many other riders around the world I’ve gotten to share experiences with and learn from, most importantly being able to “meet” other girl riders. Anyways, during that first mini trip following chris I finally made it into 5th gear and got into some twistys, I was smiling so hard in my helmet the whole time. I feel so close to my bike now and with every ride I feel more in tune, and less intimidated by her. I almost feel like she’s a horse or something, lol. We stopped to take some pictures in front of some office building which was empty because Covid – I felt so uncomfortable taking pictures but Chris was such a good sport in trying to get the best angles LOL. The whole Instagram thing has defiantly taken me out of my comfort zone – but so has riding as a whole – and I never want to go back. After this trip, I started going out on the same trip as much as I could, but still was having intense pre-ride jitters – but with every ride, I felt less anxiety and I could actually enjoy and have fun while still learning and practicing the basics. The post-ride bliss, however, was always an amazing feeling and I noticed that on the days I did get out to ride, I felt more at ease and generally better for the rest of the day. Meanwhile, we are still waiting on chris’s bike to be done getting worked on.

May 2020 – First Group Ride We finally got chris’ bike back after SUCH a long time. It’s crazy how much I worry when he’s riding his bike with me driving the car; but I don’t worry at all about myself when I’m riding lol. Side note – I’m such a lucky girl to have chris and he amazes me on a daily basis. I love how he set up the group ride, knew the route we were going to ride and also planned out how we would meet up with our two friends along the way. Before this ride, I finally just felt excited for the ride, and less nerves in the pit of my stomach. I found myself agonizing over which placement in the lineup I wanted to ride in, weighing out the pros and cons of each – I had to keep reminding myself that I don’t know shit, there’s no point in worrying, and just to trust chris (that option hasn’t let me down yet!) Side rant – im realizing as I ride more and more miles that most of my fears have been irrational. It starts with me conjuring up a situation that I feel would be dicey on a motorcycle, then I obsess over all the possible negative outcomes in those situations, and then I obsess over when I will come across them in my journey. So far – I have not been right a single time. For example – left turn at a yellow blinking light – I wanted to actually reroute my ride to avoid this, but when I was forced to do it, I rode through it with NO issues. It’s crazy what a whirlwind our minds can conjure up with little to no reason or backup to support our fears. Long story short, I need to get over myself and go with the flow, and take each learning experience as just that. Again, chris’s patience is remarkable. Back to the group ride – it was awesome. I was again, smiling so hard in my helmet as chris and I chatted through the turns, as he’s telling me how proud he is of me and just having all the good feelings along the way. So glad we went with the Cardo systems, I can’t imagine the ride without them. We rode over 100 miles through the country around Midland and hit a bunch of turns. I got to practice things I don’t necessarily enjoy, like stoplights, a LOT which was great. I still need to work on speeding up my starts especially turning starts. Getting home from the ride was a great feeling, it’s such a high – the post ride bliss. We got to head to the beach right after for a long weekend, which was much needed. We came home from the beach and chris surprised me with a longboard, which I had been talking a lot about wanting lately. Words just aren’t enough to describe how grateful I am to call him mine.

May 26th 2020 – 2nd Group Ride It’s been raining for the past two weeks, pretty much ever since we picked Chris’s bike up from the shop. Side note – Chris and I are doing a watermelon cleanse from Tuesday through Friday, and we were at the end of day 1 at this point. I didn’t realize how much of a toll the fast had taken on me until I started riding, I was overthinking every move I made and just felt unstable overall. Everything just felt harder, and it was such a reminder of how much your mental state affects your riding. Overall the ride was great and I’m so glad we got out and rode though, the country roads were beautiful and the temperature was just perfect at around 70. I guess I need to focus on the positives here – that the ride was beautiful, we didn’t get caught in the rain and I got to experience new roads. And of course got some great pics. I’ve officially become that girl who takes pictures in the parking lot for Instagram, but I really don’t care because it’s been fun building my social media presence.

May 31st 2020 – 300 milestone Well, I finally did it – I hit 300 miles on the bike, the halfway mark to my first 600 mile service, lol. Last night’s ride was absolutely perfect, I couldn’t have asked for better weather (mid 70’s, not humid at all) and feeling the crisp air as I was passing my previous top speed at 60+ mph was an unmatchable feeling. Every time I have a ride like this, I always think to myself, “This is what it’s all about.” My headspace was at a great spot and I felt confident and smooth throughout the ride. My starts were quicker and more fluent, my turns were smooth and I had less anxiety and anxious thoughts about shifting gears and going through the motions of riding in general. It’s crazy what a few days of healthy food and relaxing will do to your mind – this ride compared to the last entry was like night and day. We took the bikes to Mac’s Speed Shop for dinner – I was excited to ride my own bike there. Once we pulled up and Chris quickly whipped around to back his bike into his spot, I was reminded of my severe performance anxiety yet again, lol. I really need to get over the thought of people watching me and get over myself, people are going to watch what’s right in front of them, and a girl on a bike is sort of a rare occurrence. I feel like when people watch me, specifically men, they are just waiting for me to mess up because how could a girl like me be on her own bike? In reality, I’m sure they are barely even thinking about me at all, LOL. That brings me to something I really need to work on in general. I get really anxious when people watch me and I really need to make a conscious effort to work on getting over that. People are not worried about me – I know this – but rational thoughts get tossed out the window when I’m placed in front of a crowd. This trait of mine exists in every avenue of life – whether it is work, play, whatever; and I need to take time to grow out of this. I think it will help me have less social anxiety and will probably help my confidence which will have residual effects like an improved posture and overall sense of stability. I just wonder if this is a habit that can just naturally be broken with practice/repetition or is this something that requires more attention and effort to fix. Wow – such a rabbit hole, lol, but I doubt anyone will even read this. Back to the ride – I have absolutely loved the feeling of making it home from a successful ride, or “post – ride bliss.” Chilling on the couch with my honey after a perfect ride (for both of us) is my ideal Sunday evening. Chris’s longboard finally came in so we were able to skate over and get ice cream before we called it a night. I just love our life together and think that we truly have the perfect relationship that is a mixture of best friends and lovers that just keeps getting stronger and better with time. I am so happy. With our economy tanking due to a virus in our country that’s being burnt down all around us, he is my peace. To work on –faster upshifting –downshift through EACH gear when approaching a stop (stop banging down all the gears without releasing the clutch in between) –get over performance anxiety –work on maneuvering the bike when off (in and out of parking spots, getting gas, backing out of garage, etc) –ride the bike into the garage myself! I’m so blessed to have Chris to help, teach and support me on this journey. He reminds me I don’t need to be able to do everything immediately but still pushes me to learn and become a better biker when he knows I’m capable of doing something.

June 11 – Making Progress Two big milestones this week. The first is installing my mini floorboards, the second being my skills improving on the bike. Last night Chris and I rode to Gamestop to pick up a Tony Hawk game, and I was nervous for the ride beforehand given the newness of my floorboards along with the general nerves I get before a ride. The ride ended up being AWESOME. I made sure to pay attention and downshift completely through each gear when coming to a stop, and I was able to do it successfully most of the time, lol. Also had way faster starts, and beat Chris out of the stop lights a few times. The feeling of just riding with no traffic or light in sight is unmatchable, especially in 5th gear when it feels like nothing can hold Jolene back. During these stretches of the ride, my thoughts are always revolving around THIS being what it’s all about, THIS is riding, and this is freedom. It’s an unmatchable feeling. I also felt good when we pulled into eastfield for dinner because I was able to smoothly maneuver around the parking lot that was semi-full without issue. Also I didn’t need help when leaving the parking spot outside of gamestop. taking rides after work used to be kind of a fear of mine, and I was usually reluctant to take them in fear that I would be too braindead after a full workday. The ride last night, however, proved this fear wrong. I think no matter the time of day, day of the week, temperature, WHATEVER it may be, it’s all about your headspace and that is the greatest determinant for the outcome of the ride. I’m glad that I’m starting to feel less and less anxiety prepping for and starting out on each ride, the stomach aches and general feelings of fear are melting away with every mile in the seat. Soon I’ll be scheduling my 600 mile service To work on be more gentle when downshifting, especially to first. Stop stomping on the poor shifter ride the bike into the garage myself keep improving engine breaking/downshifting completely through each gear to 2nd or 1st

June 13 – Passing 500 on my first real trip So many milestones (literally) passed this weekend! 1 – passed the 500 mile mark & 2 – first 100+ mile trip! Minus one close-call, the whole trip/day was amazing with my love. We first headed out to Asheboro Harley Davidson dealership, stopping at a couple gas stations along the way. I passed my previous top speed and managed to hit 65+ mph, and I don’t know if that was Jolene’s limit or if it was user-error. Aside from the wind feeling like it was going to blow me off of the bike, it felt exhilarating to ride fast on the open highway. After we left the second gas station, I was following Chris (a little too closely) and the left turn we were supposed to take snuck up on us so I locked up my brakes and skidded (loudly) down the street, fishtailing straight down the street, missing the turn. Mid-way through the skid, the only thought running through my head was “fuck, we’re going down.” Somehow either my reflexes or my guardian angel, or a combination of the two, were looking out for me and Jolene stayed upright. Somehow I knew to kind of let go of the breaks and handlebars and let the bike do its thing, and sure enough I was able to straighten out and stay upright. It was a sobering experience for sure, and it took a little while to gain my confidence back for the rest of the ride. Chris is a patient angel though. We made it to the Asheboro Harley dealership to pick up our poker chips and chill for a little bit, and we were surprised to see it was crowded. It’s such a nice dealership though, they had a food truck serving Greek food, free beer on tap and the MSF course happening in the parking lot that we could watch while eating our lunch. Chris and I talked about how we always feel like outcasts from the “Harley crowd” but the people we talked to were nice. It started getting late so we headed out to the next stop, the Moonset general store near Uwharrie and Badin Lake. The rest of the ride was uneventful, and Chris and quickly became exhausted lol. I kept wondering to myself if I would always feel this tired from riding. It’s just such a mental thing that takes your full attention and effort at all times, and being hyper-aware of your surroundings at all times. There’s also the physical side of riding that involves every extremity in unison just to work the bike controls. I think that’s what makes coming home from a trip feel so rewarding. Once we made it home, we got burgers at Eastfield and called it a night after we both fell asleep on the couch lol. We took a short ride to pinky’s after detailing the bikes on Sunday and that was also a great ride. Short and sweet.

June 23 – Ready for 1st Service The more experience and riding I’ve gotten, the less I feel the need to write and blog which is a good thing more time spent actually riding. Passed the 600 mile mark and trying to schedule my service appointment this week after I install my new Vance and Hines pipes on Wednesday, so pumped for the new sound and look. I’m feeling so much more comfortable now riding, still have a few things I want to work on but when I think about the first few times I took Jolene out and compare that to how I feel riding now, it’s almost like I’m a whole new person. The things that used to scare me to death are things I can do without thinking twice now. I’m learning that the faster I go, the more comfortable I feel, and that the fears I used to have are pretty irrational. Over the weekend Chris, his mom and I went on a ride through the country before it got too hot outside. It made me happy to see how happy Chris’s mom was after the ride. We talked about how great of a teacher he is and how supportive he is every step of the way. The next day, Chris, his brother and I went on a ride to Statesville Harley and got lunch at Grouchos (Chris chose for me because I always talk about how ive always wanted to eat there, hehe). It was a great ride, minus almost running over a snake haha. One other biker that was at Grouchos joined in with us for part of the ride home, then another biker on the road joined in too. It was cool to hold up the middle, lol. Chris said I did a good job. The sense of community in the biker world is something amazing and it makes me so excited for the future, and how many cool people I will meet along the way.

[bookramblings]

The Queen of Nothing

Author: Holly Black

Published by: Hot Key Books

Pages: 308

Format: Hardback

My Rating ★★★★

He will be destruction of the crown and the ruination of the throne. Power is much easier to acquire than it is to hold onto. Jude learned this lesson when she released her control over the wicked king, Cardan, in exchange for immeasurable power. Now as the exiled mortal Queen of Faerie, Jude is powerless and left reeling from Cardan’s betrayal. She bides her time determined to reclaim everything he took from her. Opportunity arrives in the form of her deceptive twin sister, Taryn, whose mortal life is in peril. Jude must risk venturing back into the treacherous Faerie Court, and confront her lingering feelings for Cardan, if she wishes to save her sister. But Elfhame is not as she left it. War is brewing. As Jude slips deep within enemy lines, she becomes ensnared in the conflict’s bloody politics. And, when a dormant yet powerful curse is unleashed, panic spreads throughout the land, forcing her to choose between her ambition and her humanity… From the #1 New York Times bestselling author Holly Black, comes the highly anticipated and jaw-dropping finale to The Folk of the Air trilogy.

My thoughts

There are books that you eagerly binge in a day and books that you deliberately read slowly because you don’t want them to ever end. The Queen of Nothing is that rare treat of a YA fantasy novel that you want to both absorb quickly and savour slowly.

Enchanting from the very beginning, the Folk of the Air series has grown more exhilarating and more scheming with each book. It was always going to be difficult to beat The Wicked King, but all in all, this was such a fun read and everything I wanted from the finale.

Jude is back with a vengeance in The Queen of Nothing. She is probably the character who felt the most authentic from start to finish of the whole trilogy, and I really enjoyed her narration throughout. I think out of everyone in the book her character development was the best. I also loved the memorable introduction of Grima Mog, who is a complex and quirky character in this book.

In this book, the action that was so vivid in the first volume and slowed a bit down in the second one starts to pick up the pace again. But there is something different about the action of this third book. It feels much more twisty.

Feelings here just go deeper. They get intensified by the discovery of that fine line between hate and love. The whole blinding veil that’s been dropped over the slightly odd relationship between Jude and Cardan is lifted and now our two protagonists seem to really be on the same page. I routed for them in this book more than ever.

With The Queen of Nothing, Holly Black delivers what we’ve all been longing for. There’s action, romance, magic, double-crossing and intricate scene setting.

Black’s writing is basically fantasy perfection – always dark, beautiful and filled with enchantment. Any time you read a Holly Black book; you know you can count on fantastic world building and I’m always blown away by her creativity.

I really liked that there was more of a clash of Faerie and the mortal world in this volume. It added a nice element to the story and I enjoyed the light-hearted moments in the early chapters while Jude still remained in exile, living a mundane life in the human world. But of course I also loved being back in Faerie. This fae world is without a doubt my favourite and I'll always love how Holly Black is basically the master of creating all things faerie.

The Folk of the Air series really captured my imagination and I have enjoyed the trilogy immensely.  

Thinking back on all three parts, perhaps my favourite aspect of the trilogy is the circularity of it. Everything ends in the same spot it started, and I’m not talking about a mental state but a physical one – the mortal world. With that, the circle is complete. And the trilogy is undoubtedly a total success.

I can’t believe it’s over. Concluding Jude and Carden’s story carries with it a sense of bittersweet finality but with all great series, it will be a pleasure to revisit as we live in hope of Black returning to her Faerie world in the future.

The whole trilogy is great. Holly Black is a gifted writer and I enjoyed her world-building, her plot and her characters very much. 

Overall reaction:

[zrtranscripts]

Season 8, Mission 28: Captain of a Shipwreck

Skincoats and Turncoats

~

SAM YAO: Janine, I know what you're going to say.

JANINE DE LUCA: Do you?

SAM YAO: I mean, well, yeah. You're going to say we shouldn't be on this boat going to get the cure Frances and the people on Dearg Island have made for you because you're unimportant and sacrifices must be made. Which quite literally they are being, because not only is... not only is Tom dead, but also Amelia told me this morning that a good dozen of her soldiers have now joined the flipping red god and have made some sacrifice of a lamb to it.

Which I mean, I'm not sure what they think a fungus would want with a lamb, but... [sighs] I'm just telling you I'm not going to take it from you, all right? Not one more speech about how you're unimportant and we should be doing something other than trying to help you!

JANINE DE LUCA: I'm not going to say that. Runner Five, Mr. Yao, Chief Macallan, we have very few friends on this island. Most of the people have succumbed to the red fungus. We have long wondered who our enemy was and now we know. 

Shona wormed her way into our group and cleverly gained our trust. She set us against those who might have helped us. Chief Macallan, only you and Miss Brown have remained apparently free of the skincoats' malign influence.

DUNCAN MACALLAN: They're a force of darkness, Colonel. I will do whatever I can to fight with you.

JANINE DE LUCA: Thank you. Five, you must observe my condition. My left eye is useless. My shaking has worsened. In these circumstances, Mr. Yao, I cannot doubt that my duty is to become well and to fight. If Miss Reid is able to enact her plan, the country - indeed, the world - will be overtaken by her red fungus.

DUNCAN MACALLAN: Doesnae bear thought. I'm here to help however I can. Have you heard from Laird Reid? I've not seen him since we took you to safety, Five.

SAM YAO: Nobody has. He couldn't shoot at Shona, of course. Oh, poor man. Probably just wants to be alone. Imagine knowing your daughter did all this.

[thunder rolls]

DUNCAN MACALLAN: Storm's brewing.

SAM YAO: Look over there, Five. It's those beached ships we ran over to reach Dearg's dropoff point the first time. Hang on. Are those people on the ships? What on earth are they doing out in this weather?

JANINE DE LUCA: They're afraid. Look. They're salvaging weapons, anything they could find to defend themselves. Miss Spens has made it clear that she is willing to kill everyone on the island to stop the king of the rocks ceremony. She has found a sense of duty at last. 

If the ceremony goes ahead and the red god takes the island, the Undaunted will deploy nuclear missiles to destroy the entire archipelago. Miss Spens and I have discussed which of the tribal leaders in the UK might be best placed to take over from her if she dies here. If we cannot save ourselves, we may as well save the world.

SAM YAO: Rousing words, Janine, as ever.

DUNCAN MACALLAN: Will that work? Nuclear explosion... might it spread the fungus further?

JANINE DE LUCA: No one knows. This is as far as our boat can take us. We can reach the dropoff by heading across the capsized tanker. Everyone, with me. Run!

~

JANINE DE LUCA: The automated boat is coming ashore. Ah. The Dearg researchers have repaired the control box. It can command the nanites in my body to reverse the harm they've done.

SAM YAO: What's in the little vial? It says break seal to open.

JANINE DE LUCA: According to this note, the cure is in two parts. My body has already sustained terminal damage. The existing nanites will work too slowly to save me. The vial contains the rare silver metal they're made from. With it, the nanites can replicate. In greater number, they may turn the tide. This must be administered into my system in sterile conditions. Dr. Cohen will treat me. Let us return at once to the village.

[radio static]

LAIRD REID: Hello. Can anyone hear me? Blasted walkie-talkie.

SAM YAO: Five, are you getting that? It's the laird!

LAIRD REID: I don't have long. I'm on a shipwrecked yacht. I went back to the caves, tried to find Shona. I know there's good in her heart. I know it! It's the skincoats. They've twisted her, polluted her mind! I followed them from the caves. We can stop them now. Please, you have to come to -

DUNCAN MACALLAN: Look, skincoats running across that yacht, chasing the laird!

JANINE DE LUCA: We can intercept by cutting across the shoals to our left. Go!

~

DUNCAN MACALLAN: Laird Reid, over here. Are you safe, lad? They've not hurt you?

LAIRD REID: Colonel, Chief Macallan, thank God. I was afraid they'd catch me.

JANINE DE LUCA: They may yet. The skincoats are swarming over the sand banks behind us. We must keep moving.

SAM YAO: Yeah, there must be... sorry, hard to count while running backwards. Must be at least nine of them, right? All of them are here.

LAIRD REID: They summoned the others when they spotted me. They can do that. Talk without speaking over a distance.

SAM YAO: Yeah, Five said. Some spooky property of the red fungus. The same thing that's giving us all the same dreams. Although did you hear Amelia said she'd been having dreams about arguing with the red god over and over again? [laughs]

JANINE DE LUCA: I dream of fighting it. And it overwhelms me again and again. Laird Reid, have you heard anything from the skincoats that might help us?

LAIRD REID: All they talk about is the king of the rocks. They must have learned something important about it from the Edda. But of course, much of their talk is among them in their minds. I think we need to stop the ceremony somehow. I think that is the only thing that will bring back Shona, if I can discover which part of the king of the rocks ceremony is important to the red god and stop it.

DUNCAN MACALLAN: The skincoats are getting closer. Come on, through that ruined freighter to the rocky outcrop beyond!

SAM YAO: We need to avoid the islanders on the wrecks. We don't want them caught in the crossfire.

DUNCAN MACALLAN: I know a secret way. Run.

~

SAM YAO: We made it! Oh, that was a twisty route through the freighter, Chief. I think we've lost them.

SHONA REID: [slow claps, laughs] You cannae lose us on these islands, mainlanders. The red god sees everything.

SAM YAO: Oh crap. They must have known exactly where we were going. Oh look, it's Mrs. Webster, who took Rory in. Skincoat! And Mr. Hendrickson, who runs the pub. Oh, this is horrible! Skincoats all around us. Eight, plus Shona.

DUNCAN MACALLAN: Nine, counting me. Laird Reid, you are needed.

SAM YAO: Oh no, Chief, don't tell me you're with them.

DUNCAN MACALLAN: It doesnae make me happy, Sam, but my Phyllis knew the red god. It couldn't cure her, but it gave her her last years, and I still see her in my dreams through the red god. I owe it more than I owe you.

SHONA REID: Come on, da. The red god wants you. It wants all of you.

JANINE DE LUCA: We are armed. Don't think we'll come easily.

LAIRD REID: Shona. Please, lass. Listen to me. This cult has brainwashed you!

SHONA REID: Grab him.

JANINE DE LUCA: No! We cannot allow this, Shona!

LAIRD REID: Colonel, please. I must be with my daughter. Do not fight this. If the only way I can know her is through the red god, so be it. Do you understand me? To know her.

JANINE DE LUCA: Oh. Yes. I understand. You want to be with your daughter. I understand. You are a brave man. Five, Mr. Yao, with me. Back to the village.

SHONA REID: Do you think I'm just going to let you go?

JANINE DE LUCA: I think you want your father more than us, and you won't risk the casualties of a firefight.

SHONA REID: [laughs] Aye, I won't shoot you now. It's true. The red god will take your bodies whole for his vessels when the time is right.

SAM YAO: Janine, what are you doing? We can't leave the laird with them!

JANINE DE LUCA: We are outnumbered. It's what he wants. Run!

~

SAM YAO: Janine, I thought we never left anyone behind. Look at him, there on the promontory above the wrecked ships, surrounded by skincoats. He's just... He's just - he's just an old man.

JANINE DE LUCA: It's what he wanted. I think he knows what he's doing. His walkie-talkie is still operating. Listen.

[radio static]

LAIRD REID: Shona, think what your mother would say about this, please!

SHONA REID: Mum was in touch with the island. She wanted to know it! I'm doing what she would have. You've never seen me, Dad, not for who I truly am. You are the sacrifice the red god demands. But before that, we have something we must do. Look at those people in the wrecked ships, searching for weapons. Not trusting the red one to protect them. What are they?

SKINCOAT: They are unbelievers.

SHONA REID: We will make them believe.

SAM YAO: What are they doing? The Chief's got – what's that? A crop sprayer? He's got something he's misting over the people on the wrecked ships.

LAIRD REID: Shona, please. They are innocent. You told me I am the one the red god wants because I am your kin.

SHONA REID: All shall belong to the red one.

SAM YAO: Oh no. That scent on the breeze. Celery. Fungal accelerant. Crap. I just realized Shona found out about the accelerant because she went to Dearg with us. There they go. All the people on the wreckage are turning V-type, red fungus blooming out of their mouths, their eyes.

SHONA REID: I can feel them now. Janine, Five, Sam, I know you're listening. These are servants of the red one now. They feel me in their minds. I can tell them what to do.

SAM YAO: Oh God. They've turned to face us, and now they're – yeah, obviously.

JANINE DE LUCA: The V-types are [coughs] after us. [coughs] Run!

~

SAM YAO: Oh God, the V-types are coming out of the water in front of us! They must have cut across the seabed. They're blocking off the boat.

JANINE DE LUCA: Intelligent in numbers.

SAM YAO: [sighs] Janine, what do we do? Oh God, don't! That's your cure, what are you - ?! You smashed the vial! Silver's gone everywhere... the silver stuff that V-types hate. They're backing off, leaving a path to the skiff.

JANINE DE LUCA: Full speed, Five! We must get back to Mor Island. Miss Reid is controlling the V-types. They will find a way around. Quickly!

~

[boat engine turns over]

SAM YAO: Come on, come on, turn on! The V-types are almost on us. Come on!

[engine rumbles]

JANINE DE LUCA: That's it. Five, steer a course away from this sand back as quickly as you can.

SHONA REID: You will come to me in the end. The chase will make our victory all the sweeter. And we have our prize. Father, your friends can listen as you ascend.

LAIRD REID: Shona, we can go home together now. All that you've done, it's these skincoats that have made you. I know you're in each others' minds.

SAM YAO: He still believes it. Incredible. He still thinks he can save her.

JANINE DE LUCA: I think perhaps he does not believe it anymore.

SHONA REID: Hold his head.

LAIRD REID: No! No, I am your laird - ! [chokes]

JANINE DE LUCA: She's tipping a goblet of liquid down his throat.

SHONA REID: I tried to give him the red blessing at the naming festival. I knew this way, he wouldn't disappoint me.

SAM YAO: There's red fungus starting to bloom across his face.

LAIRD REID: I can see it. I can see what the red sees. All of it. Janine, I can see it. The red god fears the king of the rocks. The ceremony stops the red god. It must be done properly. Janine, the skincoats don't want to perform king of the rocks. They want to stop it! It is the king of the rocks they fear. King of... [growls]

JANINE DE LUCA: That brave man.

SAM YAO: He did it on purpose. Let them take him on purpose.

JANINE DE LUCA: I believe he did, so he could see what the red god sees. And the information he has given us is vital. We must ensure the king of the rocks ceremony is performed successfully. It is the only thing that may save us.

SAM YAO: But Janine, you destroyed your cure.

JANINE DE LUCA: It was the best way to keep you safe. I have the control box. I can ease my symptoms enough that I will be of some use these last few days. But I cannot save myself. 

We know what the skincoats want, Five. Something in the king of the rocks has kept the red god subdued for millennia, something lost to history but recorded in the Edda. They wanted the Edda so they could learn how to stop that element of the king of the rocks ceremony. We must discover what it is. For some reason, the fungus seedpods could not conquer the mainland, but the V-types can. Miss Reid now has an army. If we do not stop her, I fear nothing will. 

SAM YAO: I wish Tom were here. He'd say something military like threat level omega or last action protocol and I'd be so confused, it'd take my mind off the danger. 

JANINE DE LUCA: I would know the terminology, and it would remind me we were kin. I miss him very much. I think I've not even begun to feel how much I will miss him. But you and Five are my family, too. We will make sure the laird did not sacrifice himself in vain, and I will protect you. 

~

[sugarbubbleslove]

I survived (Blue Lion Route)

92 hours and 9 minutes of Blue Lions and I survived!!

Supported Dimitri and I grinned like an idiot. The last time I was crazy for a FE pairing was Chrom/Robin so I think it says something.

My endings for this game:

Alois, Gilbert, and Ignatz stayed alone (I didn’t have enough for Ignatz so I will work on him in the Golden Deer)

Marianne/Hanneman - this was actually quite adorable.

Lysithea/Cyril - I was originally going for Lysithea and Felix but switched over to Cyril instead and I loved their ending!! (Even though I still got the crappy bit at the end, it said she was happy).

Seteth/Manuela - I was all over the place for those two and who I wanted to support but I decided to go with them and damn it! I loved it! (wish I could have seen Flayn’s expression though)

Bernadetta/Raphael - this was an interesting one, especially the final sentence ‘She even took on a very muscular husband.’ LOL.

Linhardt/Petra - this was an interesting ending. There isn’t much of Linhardt in the ending, just they had a healthy and affectionate relationship. 

Ferdinand/Flayn - I admit, I fell in love with them in the support and I was so happy I got their paired ending. They seem to end up as a power couple and I can only imagine Seteth’s face at the pairing.

Catherine/Shamir - enough said.

Lorenz/Leonie - I was going to go for Marianne and Lorenz but I fell for them during their A supports and I needed to see how I went. It went brilliantly!!!

Dorothea/Felix - Yep, I went for this because I knew Felix/Annette were cute and Sylvain/Felix were popular but they captured my heart and I needed to know how it ended. It’s really sweet.

Ashe/Annette - I knew from their very first support that I wanted to get their paired ending and I love it!!! The two adorable kids grew up to be a power couple I knew they would be.

Caspar/Hilda - Hilda was difficult because she had a few supports I liked but I ended up going with Caspar because of their last support - he promises to help her with needs, she invited him back to her room and he totally misunderstood lol. I loved that they ended up with a ‘notoriously lively household’!

Sylvain/Mercedes - they were so damn sweet together and I love their ending, that they proved to the world that no-one needed a crest to live a happy and fulfilled life.

Dedue/Ingrid - they made me switch from Ingrid/Seteth to them and I’m glad for it. Though curiously enough, it just said odd friendship yet that works out even better. 

Finally

Byleth/Dimitri - my duo who dominates the battlefield, became parents to unruly children (and there was a lot) and soft for each other got married, had heated debates, who remained hopelessly in love til the ends of their days (which is all I wanted for them).

I survived.

I did consider going back and doing all the supports for Byleth but, to be honest, I’m not really that interested in all of them.

Golden Deer will be next - where I will romance Sylvain. Curious about who I will be interested in pairing.

Black Eagles will be after that - Route 1 - where I will romance Ferdinand.

Route 2 - Eh...I will wait and see, still miffed I can’t romance Hilda as a female-Blyeth.

As for male playthrough - I will wait and see. Not a 100% sure I wanna go through all of this again lol.

Bonus for Fem-Byleth - I only have Claude, Hubert, and Edelgard for their supports. Rhea and Sothis too but I’m not sure how to go about getting Sothis (or if I actually wanna go down that route because knowing the background, it’s kind of...twisty?)

but right now?

I’m taking a break from playing three houses, going back to finish off stories I need to finish and actually getting round to playing Astral Chain that I go. (And myabe the Last Remnant cause I’m a sucker for that pain-in-the-ass game)

[paperficwriter]

Got Your Back

This is a request I wrote for @a-strange-1ne, who requested some of that sweet, sweet Ipposendo. Today’s special? Greaser/preppy!AU. And I was happy to oblige. Thank you again!!

Cut is for length, not for content.

“C’mon, Makunouchi, get back in the car!”

Ippo focused on the road in front of him, trying not to seem as nervous as he felt about Takamura’s red Mustang slowly rolling beside him, following him down the twisty hillside road. What was he doing out here, anyway? Takamura had invited him out for a soda at the diner, and that was fine and all, but...geez! He was a university senior, and Ippo was only just starting sophomore year after transferring, and --

The car horn beeped and made him jump. “I was just messing around! It’s five miles back to town! Let me give you a lift!”

“I can manage it!”

Messing around, he said. Messing around and taking him home on the “scenic route,” pulling up to that make-out spot and grabbing his thigh, boxing him in with his big arm against the door, the sensation of his curly pompadour pressing against his head being the one thing that finally brought Ippo back to reality so he could open the door and jump out. He was so stupid!   

“Last chance, kid! I’m not playing around out here all damn night!”

“Then go!” Ippo didn’t actually think Takamura would try something again - or at least he liked to think that - but getting back into the car with him...he was already embarrassed and angry and it was bad enough this was probably going to get around campus.

“Fine!” Takamura roared as loud as his engine, and the wheels of his car picked up dust and gravel as he sped off. Ippo could barely make out something he said, something that sounded like…

Prude.

“I’m not a prude,” he said to no one, coughing as some of the dirty air got stuck in his throat. His eyes stung, and as Takamura’s car disappeared in sight and sound, he gazed down at the twinkling lights of the city below, the shimmer on the water past the beach. Folding his arms over the chest of his cableknit sweater, he started the long walk back.

After only about fifteen minutes, Ippo’s calves started to ache. It wasn’t even that it was that bad of a trek but the slight incline combined with the fact he wasn’t wearing any of the right clothes? Loafers and slacks were not ideal for this…

He should have just stayed in his dorm.

Suddenly, the ground beneath Ippo started to shake. Not dramatically, but enough to let him know that something other than a car was making its way down the road. He stepped back and waited for whatever it was to come by, making sure he kept his distance. There were only occasional streetlights, and the last thing he needed to finish this night was to either cause or be in an accident. The noise of an engine got louder as it was revved right before the motorcycle was driven into view, a small black bike with a single rider in jeans and a leather jacket. For a moment, the scene seemed to slow, and Ippo could swear that somehow he was able to make eye contact with the person on the other side of the shiny helmet.

He knew it was going to stop even before it actually did, creating a single track in the dirt on the road’s shoulder. As Ippo watched muscular legs that still straddled the seat dance the wheels back, he thought maybe he should run. Or at least keep walking. And yet all he could do was stand there, playing with his fingers, as the person booted the kickstand and finally came over to stand in front of him.

Words from the other side of the helmet were too muffled to make out.

“Sorry, I...I can’t understand you,” Ippo said, shrugging. They were taller, broader, and he figured it was a man based on the shape, but it had been a weird night anyway, so…

A hand raised to flip the visor and opened it. The eyes that gazed out at him were dark but bright, attentive, and for some reason it reminded Ippo of some wild cat. Which, frankly, he would have been less nervous about running into at night like this, compared to the stranger. “I said, do ya need a lift?” a deep, accented voice gruffed at him.

“Oh! Um. No. No, thank you. I’m just going to walk.”

For a second, the eyes took him in, up and down (and Ippo was fairly certain that any crinkling at the corners was definitely his imagination, couldn’t be a smile, why would he be smiling?), and then glanced down the hill and finally behind them. “S’gonna rain, ya know. No way ya won’t get caught in it before it starts, walkin’ back to town. Where ya headed? The university?”

Ippo nodded as he followed his gaze back up. Sure enough, storm clouds were building in the distance, lightning arcing between the gaps. He didn’t want to get sick, not this soon after classes started, but he didn’t want to end up in another precarious situation. A situation that his own stupidity had put him in. But…

“Hey.”

When Ippo turned again to see the biker, he had taken off his helmet completely and…geez, he was something else. Tan with dark hair that he ruffled until it looked soft and messy. Sharp teeth, but not scary sharp. And when the guy smiled, Ippo swallowed, and he could swear the lump in his throat went all the way to his toes.

“Name’s Sendo Takeshi. You?”

“I’m...Ippo. Makunouchi Ippo.”

He nodded and pursed his lips before holding the helmet out to him. “Did ya have a rough night, Makunouchi?”

“Yeah...that’s putting it lightly.”

“Listen. I’m gonna feel like an awful guy if I just let it get worse, okay. So if ya let me, I’ll take ya home. Just to the front door, yeah? No funny business, I promise.”

Ippo took the offered headwear and held onto it tight. There were a hundred and one warning alarms going off in his brain about strangers and getting into cars with them, although to be fair he had given Ippo his name and this was a motorcycle, not a car, so… He smiled just a little. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart, hope to die, all that good stuff.”

His cheeks warmed as he put the helmet on and snapped it under his chin. It was a little big, but they weren’t going far. “Aren’t you worried about something happening if I’m the one with the helmet?”

Sendo chuckled, scooting forward as Ippo swung a leg over the back of the bike. “Guess that just means you’re gonna have to hold on real close and tight so that skull o’ yours takes most of it.” Did he just squeeze his arm? “If we go down, we’re goin’ down together, right?”

“Heh...yeah, I guess so…”

Ippo had expected the motorcycle to take off like a horse. That’s what it looked like in the movies, after all, screeching and rearing up on one wheel. Instead, it was smooth, the wind creating a wild bluster through Sendo’s hair. As he squeezed his waist and tried to stay still, he wondered how warm he was under his jacket, what he had in his pockets, what kind of soap he used. Where had he come from? Where was he going?

Was this going to be the last time he saw him?

The ride was over before he knew it, and Sendo hopped off with his hands down on the front of the bike and his legs going over, like a gymnast clearing a wooden pony. He took Ippo’s arm and pulled him off. This was it. He was going. He would be gone in seconds. Say something, Makunouchi!

“Thank you. For the ride.”

“You got it.” Ippo gasped as Sendo’s hands went for his cheeks, but then hoped he didn’t notice, because it was just to pull the helmet off his head. Sendo rubbed his nose and gave him a lopsided grin. “Gonna be okay from here?”

“I think so.” They stood. And stared. “Are you just...passing through, or…?”

“Was on my way home, actually.” Please be here, please be here, please be here. “My Gran’s auto shop’s right down the road.” Ippo must have made a heck of a face because Sendo laughed. “She don’t exactly work there nowadays, but I do.”

For a second, Ippo was relieved. An autoshop! He could just...then, his heart sank. “I don’t have a car...I don’t even have a bicycle.”

“You can come by anyway!” His invitation was yelled, ecstatic, and any insecurity was chased away by it. “Come have lunch with me tomorrow, yeah? Gran made so much dim sum tonight that we got loads of leftovers!”

“But...but I should be the one treating you! You’re the one who saved me!” Oh God, had he actually said that? Flames erupted in his face, and he smothered them with his hands. “That is...I mean…”

“Hey, it’s okay! I was happy to do it!” He could hear Sendo raking through his hair again. “‘Sides, I ain’t got many friends in this town, so it’s payback enough jus’ to see ya again.”

Friends. Of course. Not that there was anything wrong with that! Just…

Then, Ippo shook his head, ridding himself of the thoughts that threatened to ruin this sweet few seconds. It was fine. All of it was just fine. And he gave Sendo his biggest smile.

“Okay! I’ll be there!”

---

“Takeshi! Is that you?”

At the sound of his name, Sendo figured there was no point in being quiet, so he dropped his helmet and keys on the kitchen counter with a crack. “Yeah, Gran...s’me.” Yup, just me, ruining my damn life one stupid move at a time… Friends! Why did he say that?!

When he opened up the fridge to take a drink of orange juice straight from the carton, he heard her voice crackle. “I know you had a bad night, but in this house we use glasses.” He rolled his eyes. “And we do not make nasty faces at our elders.”

“Seriously, Gran, are ya sure ya ain’t a spy or somethin’? Is the auto shop some kinda front?”

“I’d tell you but then I’d have to kill you. Come give me a hand, would you?”

Sendo walked into the garage and then broke into a run as an engine block hung precariously over his grandmother’s head from a chain. “Gran! I told ya not to handle the heavy stuff when I’m not here!”

The small woman gave him a sour look and shook her head. “I’m not trying to lift it. It’s perfectly secure.” She smacked it several times with her multitool, setting it swinging, and Sendo held out a hand to stop it. “See? It’s fine. What has you all riled up tonight, huh?”

And it was only after she let him lower the engine to the large crate on the floor that he told her. About the man on the side of the road. About giving him a ride home. And…

“I think I’m in love with this guy.”

And then Gran laughed at him. “Takeshi, you fall in love once a month. You fell in love with that pizza delivery boy.”

“But I’m serious this time! I invited him to come over tomorrow.”

“Oh my, that is serious. I better bring out the good china.”

“Gran. What if he doesn’t come? What if I never see him again? What if he thought I was some biker weirdo that’s tryin’ to make him join a gang and he calls the cops?”

“Again, it would not be the first time.” But when Sendo put his head into his hands, the old woman reached over and patted the top of it, shaking his knuckles gently. It left black smears from the automobile’s many sundry fluids. “Takeshi. If you like this boy, do what all those rock stars and movie cowboys do and...be a man.”

Sendo looked up at that. “Seriously. That’s your sage advice.”

“I’m not saying do it all the same way that they do, boy. You don’t need a horse or a guitar. Because being a man isn’t just cool hats and hip thrusts.” He really wanted to pretend he didn’t hear that part. “It’s about being straight with him. Telling it like it is. Treating him well.”

“Okay.”

She went on, ignoring him. “Getting him to eat my cooking without sass talk. Introducing him to your aging grandmother…”

“Okay, Gran, I got it.”

Be a man.

Sendo kept thinking about that the rest of the night until the following day. It wouldn’t mean anything if Ippo didn’t show up, and he half-expected that. Would Sendo have gone to visit some random guy on a bike that had given him a ride all of once? No way. So it wasn’t like he could get mad if Ippo was the same way.

By ten to twelve, he had already given up for the most part, until a loud, echoing knock made its way through the garage. He walked over to the side door and peered out, only to see…

“Holy shit, ya came!” he said, exploding out into the afternoon air. Immediately, he regretted it as Ippo held up the small package he was carrying in two hands, yelping. “Sorry! I jus’...I wasn’t sure…”

“We said twelve, right?” The other man suddenly grabbed at the watch on his wrist, panicky. “I’m not late, am I?”

“Nah! You’re perfect!” Perfect. Was that what he wanted to say? As pink rose up the rims of his ears, he pointed at Ippo’s hands. “Wassat?”

“Oh! I stopped by a sweet shop and picked up some cake! I hope that’s okay. I know you said you wanted to take care of lunch, but I had to do something to thank you for getting me home.”

Be a man.

“Yeah, well.” Sendo jutted his chin out as he popped the collar of the jacket he was wearing. He hadn’t thought that would be weird, wearing his leather in the garage - why would it? It was cool - but now it did seem like he was on his way out. Should he take it off? Nah, too late. He couldn’t turn back now. “Ain’t no big deal or nothin.’ I give rides to guys all the time.”

The words sounded a lot better in his head, especially when Ippo’s face fell to the floor, and Sendo very, very quickly wanted to die. “Oh...you do?”

“Not like that! I ain’t easy!”

“I would never think that! Me neither!”

“Good!”

Sendo was panting. Oh God, he had to save this. Luckily, though, Ippo looked around the open floor, just as obviously needing some other topic, and he settled on the punching bag suspended from the ceiling. “Sendo-san, are you a boxer?”

Be a man. Yeah! What could be more manly than boxing?

“Yeah! Featherweight. Do you?”

“No, but I’ve seen a few matches.” He smiled shyly, putting the cake down so he can press his hand against it, moving the bag a little, and Sendo walked over to brace himself against the opposite side.

“C’mon. Give it a real hit.”

“No, no, that’s okay…”

“Do it! Square up, pull back and then step in. Tighten your fist and use your hips, yeah?”

Ippo’s eyes sought his from under his bangs. Man, he was cute. The cutest guy he’d ever seen. “If you say so.”

Sendo smiled as he loosened up a little bit. What he was expecting was that Ippo would give it a dull little punch and then he’d walk over and really show him how it was done. Then, he could have him come back. Have little lessons. Chat. Badabing-badaboom.

That wasn’t the reality at all.

The reality was that Ippo stepped in and gave the bag the hardest punch he could muster. He followed Sendo’s directions so well that he even followed through, sending the bag straight into Sendo and knocking him off his feet until he crumpled to the floor, the room spinning.

“Sendo-san! Sendo-san, are you okay?!”

Maybe it was the ridiculousness of the situation. Maybe it was the fact that everything kept turning around on him. Or maybe it was that this preppy kid from the college was proving to be more of a man than he could ever be. Whatever it was, Sendo’s shoulders started to shake.

“Sendo-san...are you...laughing?”

Not just laughing. Sendo snorted. He kept laughing so hard he couldn’t even get back up to his feet. Then, it spread to Ippo until he plopped down on the floor next to him, chuckling into a hand that was become more and more swollen. And perhaps it was the fact that they were in this together now - or ‘on this’ as it were, the greasy floor of the garage - but Sendo’s nerves melted away, and he reached out for Ippo’s bruised hand.

He was surprised when the other man let him take it.

“S’gonna need some ice.” Ippo winced as he prodded at his fingers, making sure it wasn’t broken. “That’s a hell of a straight left ya got there, Makunouchi.”

“Y-you think so?” Sendo finally stood and carefully lifted Ippo back to his feet. He didn’t pull his hand away, and Sendo didn’t let go. “Maybe you can show me some of your moves too. After that ice, I mean. And lunch?”

Sendo grinned. “Sure.” Be straight with him. “Can we call it a date?”

Ippo stared, not even long enough for him to start worrying before the widest smile, even bigger than the one the night before, split across his face. “Definitely!”

They kept holding hands all the way to the kitchen.

[lullabyes22-blog]

I know this fanfic is old but in Bloodstone when Haji and Saya finally got married how did the proposal go? It took them a while to get married because of the “incident” ( saying “incident” so I want spoil it for other people that haven’t read it which they should but moving on ...) so I just wanted to know how it went with all the emotional drama going on.

If you mean the terribad, awful no good “incident” at the end of the fic, then that occurred two weeks into their marriage, so the wedding was already in the clear. Their honeymoon was shot to shit, though :|

As for the proposal, I actually had a cutesy scene planned for Saya and Haji, but I scrapped it largely because a) I didn’t feel it, and b) I wanted the chapter to go a different direction, highlighting not only SayaxHaji’s tentative start but the pervasive damage that resulted from her running off with Solomon.

I’ll leave it here, in case anyone’s curious. Spoilers for Bloodstone in its entirety, guys! 

Looking back on it, Solomon had never popped the question.

He hadn’t needed to. He’d popped her cherry, as the crude colloquialism went. He’d knocked her up, and then knocked the trajectory of her entire life off-track. In the weeks following their separation, no longer drowned by the evocative pull of emotion, Saya recounts the night she’d succumbed to him. Was her grief to blame for the misadventure? Had Solomon lured her in with seduction, or calculated cajolery, or blunt psychological force? 

It would be easy to lay the blame at his feet. But that isn’t fair. 

They were both equally at fault. Partners in star-crossed tragedy, no way to trace a finger along the marked route to their finish, from the twisty sparks of the first kiss to the roads of exotic paradise ribboning beneath the wheels of Solomon’s car and the universe expanding in fantastic carnival-colors of food and dancing and laughter and lovemaking to the screaming fights in public places, heads swinging their way, to rage towering and toppling in the tangle of damp bedsheets and hot skin and yet rebuilding, redoubling into a hard iced glaze between them so that even the briefest conversation became a struggle to be heard as much as understood.

Desire, derailment, disaster. These are a few words she’d use to describe their ill-fated marriage. 

Solomon had never popped the question. He hadn’t needed to. He’d already won her in a shell-game of biological duress. A living kewpie doll, on whose skin he’d written love-lyrics as ineradicable as any wedding-vow.

He did love her. That is the agony of it. A twisted configuration of love. But unmistakably, undeniably so. 

Fracas wrapped in fantasy.

Haji loves her too. She knows this partly because it manifests in perfect opposition to the way Solomon expresses it. No fracas, but fealty. No fantasy, but faith. 

So the day he proposes to her, it doesn’t surprise her that there are no shell-games, much less seductions. It happens the way everything else does between them. With the easy matter-of-factness of action. At a one-thirty in the blue afternoon, the shimmery sunlight falling on everything and the breeze stroking their hair, they head out for a grocery run. The babies are at home under Kai’s watchful eye. 

It is their first outing—unhindered by strollers or diaper bags or bottles—in weeks. Saya soaks it in the way the plants soak in the sunshine. 

They are halfway out of the store when the strap on her heel breaks. Lurching, Saya loses her grip on the grocery bag. Jars of babyfood hit the pavement with messy crunches. Oranges roll helter-skelter. A cupcake lands facedown in the dirt. The straw that breaks the camel’s back—or, more fittingly, unleashes the floodwaters—is when she kneels to retrieve everything and notices the edge of her bloodstone, nestled at her breastbone, has chipped off.

That tears it. 

She stares at the jagged edge the way one might stare at a missing limb, confused and infuriated and irrationally close to tears. “I can get you another,” Haji says gently.

This cracks her into wretched sobs.

At a loss, Haji stares. Then, with an inward sigh, he helps her to her feet. Sniffling, Saya lets him guide her to a park bench. There, he kneels with her foot cradled in his hands. His cool fingers, examining the broken strap of her heel, are so gentle they become a caress. 

“It is as I thought,” he says,

“What?”

His blue eyes lift to hers, encompassing her in a cool sense of refuge. “Stilettos are as impractical as glass slippers.”Tears blur Saya’s eyes again, even as a broken laugh bubbles up her throat. Her happiness, especially lately, is so off-center. Stress. Hormones. Guilt. 

But amid that awful whirl, Haji is a relief, more often that not.Reaching out, she strokes the soft tendrils of flyaway hair around his face. Their eyes meet, his gentle and unflinching, hers wet and puffy, a smile on the tremble of her lips, and something passes with the flutter of a heartbeat. Haji leans in, a by-degrees redistribution of weight, and closes the dizzy space between them with a kiss. 

It is soft as tears. Yet its heat outrivals the sunshine.

Drawing  back, he whispers, “I could get you something else.”

“Something else?”

“To replace the bloodstone.” A beat. “But I will need your ring size.”

The words sink into Saya in slow-motion. She blinks in shock, staring at his face, but they have never needed more than a split-second to read each other. What she sees makes her whole face go flamingo pink. Her lower lip wobbles on a “Yes,” even as tears spill again. 

Crying, she dives into his arms.It is a dimestore fairytale. The unromantic charm of routine. Yet it is perfect, the way twisty sparks and exotic paradises and carnival-colors can never be. No longer drowned out by a wash of sensory excess, she can find again the delicate strand of true happiness. 

It is right where she left it.

[ask-de-writer]

NORE’S CHOICE : Origin of the Rom: MLP Fan Fiction : (Part 4 of 10)

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to MLP Fan Fiction

Return to NORE’S CHOICE

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

NORE’S CHOICE

Part ONE of the Origins of the Rom

ORIGIN OF THE ROM SERIES in reading order.  (will be completed as the stories are posted in linked form)

Part One : NORE’S CHOICE, which starts HERE

Part Two : WELCOME TO EQUESTRIA! which starts HERE

Part Three : FAIR AND UN-FAIR, which starts HERE

Part Four : ON THE ROADS OF EQUESTRIA, which starts HERE

Part Five : THE FIRST ROM HEARTHWARMING,  which starts HERE

Part Six : SANDO’S LAKE, which starts HERE

Part Seven : A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE ROM, which starts HERE

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

29000 words

© 2015 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Cover art by @wind-the-mama-cat​

Writing begun 08/09/15

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

TUMBLR EXEMPTION

Blog holding members of Tumblr.com may freely reblog this story provided that the title, author and copyright information remain intact, unaltered, and are displayed at the head of the story.

Fan art, stories, music, cosplay and other fan activity is actively encouraged.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

I put away the Orb of the Ages in its hidden place in time itself.  Now there was nothing left to betray old Marchhare.  I slept until somewhat before the dawn.

I pulled out of the abandoned farmstead and onto the Red Branch path.  I eyed the ruts, assorted muddy spots, stray sticks that could nail a wheel’s spokes and wondered again why the locals and the engineers put up with this mess as the way to get to so important a project as the Red Branch Dam.

Chuckling to myself at my own witticism, I 'hauled ass’ up the way, passing the dam itself.  I noted that it was nearly done.  Only a little left at the north end. That, and needing to settle for almost a year to let its own mass pack it more solidly before risking the massive load of water that it was going to hold back.  Water from it should open up an enormous amount of new farm land for feeding a hungry nation.

Past the dam, there was no real road at all.  That made going difficult indeed.  I thanked the mother of Celestia and Luna that I’d done it twice before this.  Made it easier to pick my way through the thickets.

I appreciated the shade and coolness under the giant old trees here.  These, I knew, were some of the biggest, oldest trees in Equestria.  It took me two whole days, pulling some at night, too, to reach the divide.

From that vantage point, I could see through some of the much smaller trees of this side of the Sunset Range.  Out there was bare rock, gravel, sand and clays.  I could see the shimmer of the heat on the surface of the desert.

Celestia’s Anvil.  Arguably the hottest driest desert on the world and it was what I had to go into. No profit this time.

I shook my head and muttered, “Lives are more important than gold.”  I pulled forward and onto the downgrade.  It was slow, tricky work to get that heavy cart load down safely to where the canyon floor widened out to a meadow with a spring flowing into a small pool, similar to several others that I’d passed.

What made this spring special was simple.  It was the last water before the desert.  I filled up all the water casks lining the sides of my wagon, easily increasing the load by a half.  No help for it though.  Not if I was going to try saving those horses.

And I was.  I leaned into it and pulled.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Another utterly merciless day was paling the eastern sky, heralding a cloudless dawn.  Nore woke and lifted her head to see about her.  Rom was up.  Maina and Phapa were up.  Sando was up.  She stirred and got her legs under her.  Getting to her hooves was not as easy.  Her left hind leg was still giving her trouble since the fall in that well.  The tumble out on that loose gravel slope had not helped it.

To Nore’s surprise, it was Sando who helped her to her feet.

Sando offered, “If you will accept my help, Nore, I can show the others how to make you a harness that will support your leg.  You will have to have support, though. I will do that while my strength lasts.  If you will have me do it.”

She gave him a skeptical glance. “You seem far different from the Sando that we left behind.”

“I hope that I am.  I understand, now that it is likely too late, how bad I was.”  He shook his head, ears drooping.  “If there is any way at all to make it up to all of you, I want to do it.  I do not want to die reviled and hated.”

Nore’s eyes softened.  “If you can show the others how to do that harness, Sando, I will let you support me.  My leg hurts.”

Rom nodded to the others.  Sarel brought up the rope.  Sando began, “We need two loops about me here.  Hard knot them so that the knots won’t slip …”

It took only a little time. Nore, with her limp, setting the pace, they started to struggle up the canyon to the slide that Sando found the day before.

Hooves slipped as gravel slithered away from under them.  Sometimes it seemed that it took three strides up to gain one.  Those were the good times. Frustrating efforts finally got them all to the top.  The sun was not yet over the horizon of bleak stone and bare clay.  They set out while the relative cool still prevailed.

If not for the same sun that was killing them, they could have lost their way entirely.  

Rom observed, “The Dayhorse is leading us to the place where she wants us to die.”  Drawing a big breath and letting it out slowly, he added, “Best not to disappoint her, I guess.”

They struggled on.  Nore looked up at Sando in puzzlement.  “Why would it matter if you were reviled or in comfort when you die, Sando?  Is not dying simply an end?  An end to suffering or an end to pleasure, but only that, an end?”

Rom turned an ear to hear Sando’s reply.  So did most of the band, actually.  Sando’s reply surprised them all.

“That is a very fatalistic view, Nore.  If life is simply a space between not being and not being, then why struggle at all?

“Everything that lives strives to live on.  An injured spider in the ruin of a web will still try to make another web and live on.  So it is with us, too.  Ask yourself why?  Why struggle to live on if there is an end to struggles and pain within your easy reach.  All that you have to do is give up.”

Nore did think deeply as she plodded along, making the best pace that she could.  She realized suddenly that she was the injured spider, but, expecting to die herself, she was setting as swift a pace as she could, in the hope that the others would survive.

“Do you know what lies beyond this world, when we die, Sando?”

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

I came out of the canyon from the Sunset Range and began to follow my old tracks.  Not a road by any stretch.  Just the way with fewest traps for the unwary.  My previous path avoided the sand and stuck to gravel and clay surfaces.

The wheels groaned and fought me, conspiring with the desert surface to hold back the wagon. I shook my head at the unforgiving gravels and baked clays, “I swear it was easier when I was not trying to save some poor horses.”

The harness bit harder through my sweat, as if to make up for the bugs that had, ages ago, abandoned Celestia’s Anvil.  I muttered, “I don’t blame them, either!  This is no place for a self respecting bug.”

I dragged and pulled anyway. “They are going to die if I don’t.  They might die anyway, but at least I will have tried!”

The sun slammed down harder, I was sure.  The Anvil was well named.

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

Sando thought over Nore’s question carefully and returned one of his own.  “What do you think is there, Nore?”

“I don’t know.  Until it started looking like I may find out soon, I really did not care.”

Sando nodded.  “That is the way of most, Nore.  I feel that there is a place that will reward us for the way that we use the Gift of Life.  If we give it up or throw it away, well, I don’t know what might await us.

“If it is reward for carrying on and doing our best to the end of our lives, it must be a reward suited to horses like us.  

“That would be a pleasant, lake of pure water that never fails.  There would be trees that both shade us from the sun and heat of the day, and have good fruits that they bear in all seasons.  There must be fine grass that grows always in plenty and soft, comfortable, safe places to sleep.”

“It sounds lovely, Sando.  I wonder if there will be a Master there?  The idea of having no Master frightens me.  It is the worst part of this whole horrible time.  We are cast out.  We have no Master.”  She shuddered to dry sobs and leaned a little harder on the harness of ropes.  Sando, understanding too well what she felt, made no complaint, but bore her up more strongly.

The other mares of the trekking band did overhear.  Dappled Sarel whispered to brown Phapa, “I never really thought about it before.  My mother used to tell me tales of the Night Horse’s Garden of Dreams but even when I was small, I didn’t really believe them.

“What Sando just said actually made some sense.  I need to think about it.”

Malit overheard and agreed, “Funny, isn’t it?  We are out here, like to die, and along comes this amazing thought from somehorse that I would never have looked to say anything sensible.”

Rom nodded too.  “I see some shade there by that rock outcrop.  It won’t last but I want the rest of you to wait there.  I will be looking ahead for a better shade to wait out the day.”

Sando said, “No, Rom.  That should be my task.  You are our leader.  You are vital to the rest if they are to live at all.  Let me scout the way.”  He paused and then added, “Please.”

They watched Sando work his way up a hill to the south east of them.  As he was scanning the route from his vantage point, Nore noticed how gaunt he was.  Looking about, she sadly noticed that they all were.  Shaking her head, she muttered, “Starvation does that.”

It was not long before Sando returned, his steps dragging.  His sides heaving, he reported, “I found us a better place.  The hill there, becomes a scarp facing south.  There is one of these twisty canyons in it.  We can have good shade for the rest of the day in there.  Come, I will show you the way.”

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

The Orb was showing me the best way to reach the band of lost and cast off slaves.  I grumbled at some of it.  Wagons need ground that is sound enough that wheels do not sink too deeply into it and free enough of obstructions like big stones and heavy brush to allow passage.  

As I detoured yet again through the desert night, I groused, “A straight way, please, Dear Luna!”

No answer but the return grumble of wheels on the small gravel that the wind left behind when it blew away the good soil.  It was five days of grueling labor.  I was pulling the last one in daylight.  Time was running out.

The worst place that I was aware of was just past.  No shade at all.  I suspect that if I could die, I would have, back there.  

The real chance for trouble lay not far ahead.  Another narrow canyon led out of the side of a ridge of the same ghastly mix of hard clay and small lumpy stones that was such a nightmare to pull the wagon over.  Up in there were the seven that I had come to try saving.

My big donkey ears could hear a little of their conversation.  One that sounded to be the filly said, “Sando, I don’t think I can go further.  My leg is healed.  I can’t stand now at all.  Tell me again of the Lake.”

A big soft voice answered her, “It has all good things for us.  The best of browse to eat.  Fruits born at all seasons from trees and bushes that give shade in perfect measure for us.

“A thing that I did forget to mention though.  There are instruments there to play for music and dancing.  We can dance, sing and play music whenever we wish.”

The filly’s voice answered, “I wish that the Master had not kept our lyres, flutes and drums.  I want to hear music again before I go to the Lake.”

The one named Sando was replying, “We all do, Nore … I hear something out on the desert!!  I am going to go see what it is!”

I made a show of passing to the south of where they were sheltering from the sun but where they had to see or hear me going by.

The big stallion came out of their shaded hideaway at the sound of my cart passing.  He called out in a weak voice, “Sir!  If you are this deep into the Anvil, you must have some water!  Can you spare a tiny bit?  We have a filly near to death.

“It is my fault that we are here.  Save her, if none of the rest of us, please?”

I paused in heaving against the harness to move the cart across the heat shimmering stones of the desert floor.  The gaze that I turned to him showed me a gaunt horse, fat gone, ribs standing out plainly, gut narrowed by starvation and thirst.

“I do have some water.  How many of you are there?  Have you any means to pay me for my water?”

His head had lifted until I mentioned payment.  His neck drooped.  The tips of his scraggly mane trailing in the dust.  “There are seven of us.  Two stallions, four mares and the filly.  I fear that there will soon be none.  We have no means to pay you.”

“Are you the band’s leader?”

“No, good donkey, Rom is our leader.  He is wise.  We are back in that steep sided canyon.  There is shade there, at least.”

Curiously, I asked, “You called me Sir and good donkey.  Why would you say that?”

He gave me a truly puzzled look. “You are Sir because you have not the headstall and bit of a slave. You are free.  I said good donkey because I hoped that a respectable trader like yourself might help us to save our filly, Nore Bel Morin.”

I nodded.  “I will shelter the balance of the day with you, if I am welcome to do so.  I will spare some water for your filly.

“You must help me to find a safe way for my cart to get to where you are waiting the evening.”

“Sir, I shall.  You will be welcome among us if you can aid Nore at all.”

True to his word, he helped me to get the cart safely to the canyon floor.  It was not easy but we managed it.

I was greeted by Rom Ina Callin, the leader of the band.  “Free Sir, would it be possible for you to spare anything at all for us?  Nore is in the most desperate need. If you cannot help the rest of us, of your mercy, help her.”  

I made a pretense of checking the filly out.  I already knew, through the Orb, what her condition was like. The filly, Nore, was pretty bad off indeed.  She was still conscious, able to swallow and speak though.

She gave me a trusting stare and asked, “Are you my guide to the Lake?  Am I going to die?”

I replied, “Not yet, Nore. Perhaps later.  Much later indeed, I hope.  For now, I have some water and some grain.  We will grind the grain into the water to give you both the drink and the nourishment that you need.”

Going to my cart, I saw that, though famished and thirsting near to death, none had touched it.  I opened a chest of the grain and, true to my promise, ground a ration of it with water from a cask.  One of the mares, a sorrel named Malit Ba Molin, took the ration and carefully fed Nore.  She stole no bite for herself.

I nodded as I thought to myself. “These are indeed worth saving.  They are the finest horses that I have ever seen.  Better than almost any ponies, too.”

I beckoned both Rom and Sando over to me.  In some perplexity, I asked, “What did Nore mean by 'guide to the Lake?’  Is it some sort of custom that I have not seen before?”

Sando hung his head and replied, “I spun her a tale to answer her question.  She asked what lies beyond death here in this deadly desert.

“The others heard me too.  It seems that she is clinging to that tale.  I told her and the others that a paradise awaited us but not if we gave up.  It is a wonderful Lake of pure water surrounded by the finest meadows of the best browse a horse could hope for.  There is shade from the sun provided by trees that bear always the best and tastiest fruits.  There we are free and labor only as we wish it, and not at the order of a Master.

“She seems to think that you are our guide to that better place.”

I nodded at that.  “I see.  I have only a few questions.

“Rom, do you know where you are in the Anvil of Celestia and do you know where you are going?”

Rom shook his head.  “We were cast out and, at the end, driven into the desert.  We had heard of you successfully crossing the Anvil and had no other hope but to reach the place that you came from.  Beyond that, we know nothing of where we are or are going.  I will not simply give up and die.  I am doing the best that I can to save any of us at all.”

“I see.  It is true that I am a merchant.  It is also true that I have a heart.  Life outweighs profit.  I have tested you, though it may not have been obvious.

“I simply left the wagon with its supplies where you could all see it.  None of you, though starving and suffering thirst, made any move to take any of the load.”

I sighed heavily, “I will forgo this trip’s profits to save you all if I can.  Tadast’s Wells is the nearest Gyptian town and it is seven days of hard wagon pulling from here.  My supplies cannot get you there.”

Sando hung his head and said, “We came from there.  We were driven into the desert because we found a well with water and through my foolishness the watch found it out. They will get a handsome reward for it.  To keep from sharing the reward, they will kill us.”

I shook my head sadly, “Such greed should not be.  I can try to get you all back to my land.  It will be a very close thing.  Some may die before we get there.  I hope not.  It is five days from here, at least that is how long it took me to get here.  I do not know how well the supplies will last.

“My land is a place called Equestria.  There are ponies living there.  They are smaller than you Gyptian horses.  They come in three sorts.  There are ones called Earth ponies.  They are like you but smaller and stouter of build.

“Another sort are called Unicorns.  They have a shortish horn in their forehead just above the eyes.  They can do magics with that horn.  Things can be lifted, held and moved by the power of their thoughts alone.  Like the Earth Ponies, they are not large.

“The third sort are called Pegassi.  They have wings and can fly.  They are able to move clouds and bring controlled rains.

“All three sorts have many pastel colors for their coats and manes.

“I do not know how they will welcome you, but getting you to Equestria is the best that I can do for you.”

Rom nodded gratefully.  “We will take our chances with your Equestrians.  You mentioned using your caravan’s load of food and water for the trip?”

I said sourly, “My hope for a profit, yes.  I said it before.  Lives are more important than profit.”

Rom pointed out, “The food and water are still yours.  Will you see to the rationing of them?  We are all terribly hungry.  I fear for fairness if any of us do it.”

I was about to answer when I felt a small muzzle touch my shoulder.  It was Nore.  She was staggering, but up.  She spoke softly, “Sir Guide to the Lake, thank you.  The mares said I should not be up yet but I wanted to say that.”

I put a hoof around her shoulders to steady her as I told her, “I hope that the Lake is far away for you.  Live long.  Be happy.  Let Paradise come in its own good time.

“I need to distribute rations for these fine horses in Rom’s band.  Will you help me?”

She gave me an adoring look and said, “I would be honored to help you, Sir.”

Malit, the sorrel mare who fed Nore, organized the others into a line to get both food and water. Sando and Rom had a disagreement about their place in the line.  They both wanted to be last.  

Sando whinnied, “It is my fault that we are here at all!  I should be last to get food or water!”

Rom retorted, “It was my decision to let you back with us.  As leader, it is my duty to see all others taken care of first!  That is the burden of the leader.”

Nore, helping me to break open a wrapped bale of clover top hay, saw the argument and called out, “Let the Master decide!  Marchhare is the only one of us who is a freeborn!  The supplies are his!”

The others all stopped cold and turned expectant heads to me.  I hope never to see that expression on the face of any horse or pony again.  They had agreed instantly with Nore and were giving themselves to me.  As slaves to a Master.  Me.

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The Ministry Has Fallen

Chapter 2

I was scared. I was alone. But I tried to keep my cool as best I could. I was under a fake identity. Instead of Hermione Granger I was now going by Ophelia Campbell, a young British girl on her way to college. Every morning before I went out, I would change my appearance to blond hair, blue eyes, and a slimmer face. I was staying in a flat located in muggle London. The people who owned the house were currently on a cruise to the Bahamas where they would be staying for two weeks. I figured I would move and change my identity again the day before they got back. From what the newspaper said it was currently May 22, 1998. I thought I had a good hiding place and disguise, but one morning I forgot to make my face change to my fraud identity. I was at the supermarket buying some eggs for breakfast when I noticed two strange men following me. I tried to loose them, but no matter what I did they would always come back. I left the supermarket and took the back route home, hoping to confuse them by going down the twisty roads. I had only traveled once down these streets, and even then I was coming out of the flat. I made a wrong turn and found myself in a dead end. The only things to accompany me were a few trash bags, a box, and some sewer rats. I gripped my wand in my handbag, ready to blast anything to pieces if it so much as moved. I heard some footsteps at the other end of the ally and raised my wand, ready for attack. The two men turned cautiously around the corner, but I didn’t name a move because of they were muggle I would have to modify their memory. That definitely did not bring back good recollections for me.

Instead I called out, “W-who’s there?” It felt kind of stupid, but I had to know if they were wizards or not.

“My question for you girly, is why you look so much like this poster?” The one closest to me asked. He had a very deep rough voice, black hair, a goatee, and a blue construction worker outfit on. I recognized him at once. He was the guy I had fought in the cafe with Harry and Ron. They started advancing on me, but I had no where to run.

“I asked you first.” I said in the toughest voice possible while trying not to let my voice wobble.

“Don’t play your silly little games on us, princess.” The second man growled. It was obvious they didn’t want to attack without their master’s approval. This guy had sandy blond hair tied back in a pony tail. I knew this man from the second battle of Hogwarts. His name was Yaxley, he worked for the Ministry of Magic as well. They were still slowly walking toward me.

I needed to stall as much as possible. “You’ve got the wrong girl. I just want to be left alone! Please!” I decided to play the innocent card which might throw them off a bit. One of them seemed pretty dumb, but I knew Yaxley had some brains in him. So I couldn’t give them the slightest hint as to who I actually was. The first dude kept looking at Yaxley as if he was waiting for the “okay” to attack me.

Yaxley put up a finger and whispered, just audibly enough for me to hear, “Not yet, we have to make sure it’s her.” The first one looked kind of disappointed at this, but I was secretly glad that I could still have enough time to gather my thoughts and form a plan.

“If we have the wrong girl, then show me your right forearm.” Yaxley knew. He knew about the torture that she went through in the Malfoy family home. Stupid Bellatrix couldn’t even stop herself from bragging about it. I knew I had nothing left to do except to attack.

I used a silent jelly legs hex but it was easily deflected. “Scared, girly?” The first man teased. That hit a nerve.

“I am NOT scared!” I shouted. I threw all I had at them. All the spells I knew that could be useful in combat were used, but the other side held up strong. I was starting to get worried, what if I didn’t make it out, what if I died, what if I was tortured again? I couldn’t let that happen again. I thought about Ron, and his handsome face. And then I thought about never seeing him again and that gave me strength to strive to see those freckles up close once again. I twisted and turned, deflected and shot, maneuvered and fought. Finally I caught Yaxley by surprise and he failed to deflect a stunner shot straight at his face. He crumbled to the floor and the other man looked down at him in surprise, bu that was his big mistake. I shot him with another stunning spell in the back and he crumbled on top Yaxley. I sank down against the wall and started to sob. This war was the most emotionally draining thing I had ever experienced. After about five minutes, I stood up, wiped the tears off my face, and then went over and kicked both of the guys in the nose. They all deserved that, I thought. I turned and disapparated.