#its the way that this was the day harrow decided to live forever

[naomistares]

this one part from harrow the ninth always made me really upset. so i made a four page comic out of it!

[azsazz]

A Court of Four Horsemen

Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Based off of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse featuring Rhysand as Conquest, Cassian as War, Eris as Famine, and Azriel as Death.

Warnings: War, famine, death, smut...a little bit of everything.

Word Count: 5,319

Notes: So so excited for this one. I've worked really hard on this and I hope you all enjoy it. Three parts to follow. Welcome Rhysand to Azsazz.

_________________________________________

I. The Lost Girl

It was the day the moon fell.

A cry that could be heard across Prythian, halting the townspeople in their tracks, conversations falling quiet as the hairs rose on the back of your neck, the pure anguish in the scream, streets shaking and birds flocking away in its wake.

The High Lady of the Night Court was dead.

Word had spread fast, the angry High Lord of the Night Court had lost the one thing in his life he thought he’d have forever, and now he was going to avenge her by taking over all of Prythian. 

If they wanted a war over his declaration, he welcomed it, forming a group of his most trusted warriors, mounting their steeds and setting out across the lands, ready for whatever the other High Lords were set to decide. They could join him and perhaps rule under him, or they could die.

They rode for six days across his lands, spreading the word and dealing with those who did not agree. All four were skilled in the art of killing, each had their own interesting ways to convince the fae that did not want to stand under his reign.

On the seventh day they reached a small town, your town. It was nearing nightfall, and they had traveled for such long hours that day that they knew there wasn’t another city for hours, considering themselves lucky to have found this one, as not even the High Lord had known this little village thrived off of his lands.

Thrived was not the correct word to describe the settlement you lived in, but it would have to do until the morning.

He rode into your town on a horse as white as the freshly fallen snow with a babe on his hip. He was the stark opposite of the wild creature beneath him: smooth, tanned skin, hair as silky dark as the night sky, wearing only the most expensive onyx fabrics. He did not look ready for war, no, he was dressed to conquer.

Following him were his comrades; a warlord who donned gleaming crimson siphons, face set like he hadn’t smiled in centuries, eyes harrowed with too much battle. He sat atop a stallion reminiscent of the red mountains of the Night Court, a large, gleaming sword settled comfortably in his grip, as though he was born holding the saber.

An auburn haired male followed on a well fed dark horse, reflecting that of stormy midnight. Your eyes widened as you realized it’s mane and tail were made of flame, hot, red and wild like his spirit, carrying the weight of his torturous father, how he hoped to kill the male and any High Lord that stood in thier way, bodies turned to ash and swept away with the wind they left on.

Ending the pack of powerful males was death incarnate. A pale horse below him, its coat the sickly pallor of a corpse, and you knew without a doubt that he would be the last thing you see when your time comes. The animal's hair seemed alive, made of dark mist, curling around Death's ear like they were whispering secrets to him, and when his hazel eyes cut to yours from underneath his black hood, you looked down immediately, bowing your head in the presence of them.

They had come with word that your territory was now under the rule of the future High King, who passed his babe off into the awaiting arms of the warlord as he addressed your town. The crimson glow washed across the babes sleeping face as the commander shifted him in his arms, asleep against his chest, still looking as menacing as battle itself, even with the fragile child in his grasp.

No one dared object as his violet eyes scanned the crowd, waiting patiently for some poor soul to do so. Death’s grip flexed on his knife as his shadows slithered through the crowd. They stopped when they reached you, and you stood completely still as they twisted up your legs and torso, reading your body language. One stalled in front of your face and you stared directly into it, into death itself, before they skittered away and back to their master.

You watch intently, nervous, fingers clutching at the fabric of your pants as you observe what seems to be a silent conversation from the party above. They stand tall upon their steeds, eyes going unfocused for only a moment, before the leader’s stormy violet eyes fall upon you.

Something happens then, your muscles lock up and you can’t move, can’t look away from that intense gaze. You’d heard about him, his powers, the male upon the white horse could shatter a mind with half of a thought. Maybe that’s what he was trying to do with you.

Show us where we’ll be staying, his silky smooth voice echoes in your mind instead, his abilities caressing against the inside of your head, goosebumps breaking out across your flesh. You can’t nod, too tightly under the wrath of his powers, so you think your response and he lets you go.

You gasp a short breath, swaying in your spot. He’s not the sort of male you keep waiting, as you slink your way through the crowd and towards the four warriors. The closer you get the more you notice; the dark crown resting upon his head, the bow stretched across his back. They are all incredibly beautiful and command attention with ease. You are sure that they will not fail their mission. These are not males to be messed with, and the crowd is dismissed as soon as you break from the mass of people, stepping up to face his horse.

He looks down upon you, you eye the jutting structure of his jaw, he looks as if he himself is in need of a hearty meal and a good night’s rest.

“What is your name?” he asks, and it’s the same silky voice that had purred in your head only a moment ago.

“It’s (Y/N), my King,” you respond politely, giving them all a bow.

“(Y/N),” he tastes your name on his tongue and finds he quite likes it, smirks as he speaks next, “Lead the way.”

It’s nothing much, your town, small and poor and not even on any map. How they had found it and why they thought making the trip here was beyond you, but you didn’t question it as you led the way to the best inn for travelers.

The babe awoke with a cry and Death immediately took him into his arms, singing him a harrowing song in a beautiful voice, low and raspy until the youngling settled, staring up at the male with wide eyes. 

The male on top of the black horse takes note of the fae within your town, most wearing ratty old clothes that do nothing to block out the bitter cold, their bones jutting out from hunger. He will not have much to do here.

The warlord scans the scared passerby, but stops only after seeing a few. He’s come to the same conclusion that the fiery haired male has, that these people were hungry, and they were not fit for war. He’d have to recruit warriors from somewhere else.

“This is the nicest inn we have,” you don’t know why you’re embarrassed. Perhaps it was the intimidating and spectacularly clean foursome before you, clothes thick and pristine, made for the harsh winters wind. You didn’t have a say where you grew up, how poor you were, but your cheeks reddened nonetheless as you gestured to the decaying boarding house.

The leader dismounted the horse with ease, landing lightly on his feet beside you, reins of the white beast held tightly in his hand as the horse shook out its blinding white mane. He was even more beautiful up close and you had to turn your head away to control the pounding in your heart.

“Where can I tie up Glory for the night?” His voice is soft, thankful even, as he pets his steed on his nose, admiring his animal.

“There’s a post just around the corner,” you start, turning on your heel to lead the pack to the stumps in the ground. The earth should be frozen enough to keep them upright all night, for you knew in the summer with the rain turning the dirt to mud the posts would fall over.

“No need to show us, (Y/N), I’m sure we can find it from here,” he gives you an easy smile, eyes gleaming like the stars about to appear in the night sky. “Though we are in need of something to eat, if you would be so kind as to point us in that direction.”

You swallow harshly, knowing full well that the only restaurant in your town was closed, the chef having succumbed to the illness that struck the town this time yearly. Thinking quickly on your feet, your respond just as nicely, “No need to worry about that milord, I will fetch you all something, even the babe. Why don’t you all get warmed up and settle in while you wait?”

He eyes you curiously and you wonder if he thinks you’re going to poison them. You wouldn’t, didn’t have the resources if you really wanted too, but you can’t help but fidget underneath his gaze.

“Very well,” he nods his head to his comrades, who take off on their horses in the way you’d pointed, “Formalities are unnecessary. Please, call me Rhysand.”

“Very well Rhysand,” your response is curt, and he dismisses you with his own nod, turning on his heel to follow the direction his friends had gone. You miss the glance he takes over his shoulder as you walk back towards your own home.

__________

You scrounge up just enough to make a pot of stew for the visitors after pleading to some of the people you trusted. When they were weary, needing food for their own families and thinking you wanted it for yourself, a simple lie on the behalf of the soon to be King helped you out. One of them even offered you milk from their family goat for the babe.

The owner of the inn you knew well, and offered up the dirty kitchen for you to use, even going so far as to scrounging up mismatched bowls and utensils to serve the food in.

One by one you ascended the rickety stairs, creaking with every step you took, delivering the food to the warriors.

Famine eyed the bowl and then you hungirly, as if it was you he wanted and not the food. You clutched the bowl and cup in your hands tighter to stop them from shaking beneath the gaze of the gorgeous male. He took the food without a word and closed the door in your face.

Death offered to help you, taking his own food as well as the babes bottle while you carried the warlord's portion. He moved silently and kept on your heels, your heart racing just a little bit faster as you felt his shadows swirling at your ankles. You shuddered as one slithered up the back of your spine, nearly tripping on the stair before you, but he steadied you and you caught a glimpse of his massacred hand, white-knuckled around the glass before he snatched it away, pulling down his sleeve over it with his teeth.

You couldn’t see the look on his face as he towered over you once you reached the top of the stairs, back pressed tightly to the wall behind you. Your breath was stuck in your throat, all you could see was the sharp smirk on his pink lips, hood pulled down and shadows swirling around the rest of his head. It was all you could wonder if his scarred hands matched the skin of his face.

You were both curious and terrified and you think he can tell by the way his smile lifts higher, catching the loud beating of your racing heart in his ears before he’s turning away, his robe swiftly following like his shadows down the hall.

The babe is with the warlord again, who’s shirtless, tanned skin glowing in the dim faelight. You know he could warm you in an instant if you were tucked up beside that large, muscular body, and your cheeks heat as you stutter out your words, passing him over the food.

He gives you a cheeky smile in return, looking you up and down once before stepping back and letting Death sweep into the room, thanking you for the meal. You nod once, spinning around on your heel as fast as you can before you’re making your way back down to the kitchen, nearly tripping down the stairs for an entirely different reason.

You lean against the counter trying to get your bearings. The utter beauty of these males was one thing, but they were dangerous, very much so, and you didn’t need to be getting caught up in the middle of it, no matter how desperate you were.

You scoop up the last of the hot stew and dump the pot into the sink – you’ll clean it when you come back down – you make for the stairs one more time, legs burning with underuse. You catch your breath at the top of the stairs, slowly making your way down past the other three rooms to his own.

You knock on the door with your foot, both hands occupied, and you need to catch your breath all over again once he’s opened the door.

His hair is slicked back and tousled, wet from washing up, like it was all he could bother to do to wrap a towel around his waist and run his fingers through his hair before opening the door. His skin is still dewey, and you swallow hard as you follow a drop as it rolls over his collarbone and down his pectoral.

“(Y/N),” his smirk is filled with mirth, eyes dancing with mischief, the very one that hadn’t been emoted from him since the passing of his mate. He hadn’t felt much of anything since then, only anger and the burn to avenge her the only way he knew how, to become the King of Prythian, and no one could stop him.

But you were something else. Kind and caring like his mate had been, treated so poorly by the people of your town, not sure where you really belonged, though you knew it wasn’t here. You were a dreamer and he noticed that.

“Here you are my King,” you bow your head once more, offering him the bowl and cup, praying that he takes it instead of staring down at you as he leans against the door like he’s doing now.

He likes the way you call him King, even if he hasn’t taken over the other courts yet. It has a nice ring to it, especially the way you say it and his cock awakens as you do. But you needn't call him King quite yet, for now Rhys will do just fine. He tuts, crossing his arms over his chest, causing those muscles to bulge and your mouth to run dry. “Now, now, I thought I told you to call me Rhys.”

“Sorry, Rhys,” you squeak, flushing bright red as you stare into his intense eyes.

The side of his mouth quirks up into a smirk as he finally takes the food from you with a gracious smile. “Tell me (Y/N), have you eaten yet?”

And you want to lie to him, to tell him that you’ve eaten before they arrived or that there’s more food waiting downstairs, to turn around and run and never look back. Surely you’d be gone from his mind by this time tomorrow, and you could pleasure yourself to the thought of any one of these males everyday until the end of your terrible life.

But you can’t lie, because he will know, and by the look he’s giving you now as he retreats a step backwards into the room, he already does.

“Ah, no,” you clasp your hands together in front of you nervously, wavering in front of the door.

“Come on, I don’t bite,” he grins as he settles on the edge of the bed, nodding for you to join him. His voice purrs in your mind, making your heart jump, Hard. 

You fist your hands in your dress, taking a steadying deep breath that doesn’t calm your nerves at all, and you step inside of the room, closing the door behind you.

He was a beautiful male, and you wanted this – wanted to spend any amount of time with him that he’d allow, only if it even were just talking and sharing a bowl of stew. He needed this just as much as you did.

So that's why you join him on the bed, taking a seat on the edge, springs squealing as you sit, a leg tucked up under you. Rhys gives you a lopsided smile as you settle, cheeks pink with the embarrassment of your town’s awful everything.

He offers you the first bite, wiping the drips over the edge of the bowl and leaning in close and holding it out to you. As you part your lips you wonder if this is how he feeds his own babe, who’s being taken care of by the other members of his group.

You can’t imagine what he’s gone through, having lost a mate he’d spent so little time with. Finding your own mate has long since left your goals in life, exchanged for keeping yourself alive by any means necessary.

Taking the spoon into your mouth, you grimace at the taste, immediately embarrassed about serving this slop to males who had clearly eaten better than this their entire lives.

Quirking an amused eyebrow at your expression, Rhysand scoops up a bite of his own, and he tries to keep his face schooled in a calm expression, but you laugh when you see his lip curl slightly.

“It’s horrible, isn’t it?” you ask, though you know the answer. You want to know what kind of a High Lord he is, one that will lie to his people, or one who won’t sugar coat his thoughts.

“Oh, it’s absolutely awful,” he scoffs with a smirk and you glare back playfully, “But I won’t complain about a hot meal served to me by a beautiful female.”

And then you’re blushing again, looking down at where your hands rest atop your bent knee. This male…Gods, he was something. His sensual smirks and bright eyes, his way with words, you could see how he would be a great High King.

He reaches out gently, placing a hand beneath your chin and lifting so you’re looking into those earnest violet eyes again. 

“It’s true,” his voice is soft but you can hear the raw honesty of his statement, the silent suggestion behind his words.

Maybe he was just hurting. Missing the mate that had been taken from him and his child too soon, wanting to think about something other than the gaping wound in his chest, the empty feeling where she should be…

“Don’t,” he shakes his head, “Don’t think that.”

“Rhys–”

He cuts you off with a hum, “Nuh-uh, please,” he requests, bringing the spoon to your mouth again, “Let’s just enjoy this.”

“As much as we can,” you mutter, taking the bite of food.

He huffs a laugh, eyes glimmering, but he keeps quiet.

And he won’t stop looking at you like that as you share the rest of the meal. It’s gone before you even know it, but it’ll be enough to last you until your next meal…whenever that should be.

“Let me,” you offer, trying to take the bowl from his hands but he’s leaning back, keeping it from your reach as you lean further and further into him until you’re nearly toppling over into his lap, using your hand on the bed to keep you upright.

“No need,” he whispers, and he’s so close his breath causes your eyelashes to flutter. You watch the dirty bowl disappear into thin air, swept away in a dark mist and when you look back at him you catch his eyes flicking up from your lips to settle on yours.

“That’s a–” you swallow harshly, suddenly all too aware of how close you are to him, but you don’t want to back away, “That’s a neat trick.”

Your heart is pounding in your chest and you can smell his arousal like the candle he’d lit across the room and you wonder if your own scent is as captivating as his. It’s all you can do to not shut your eyes and lean into his neck, sucking in a hearty breath straight from the source.

He clears his throat a little, leaning in just a bit more and you nearly go cross eyed looking at him as he purrs, “Do you want to see another?”

“That depends,” you murmur, “Does it involve anything else disappearing?”

Rhys’ smile is feline, “It involves my cock disappearing into that tight little cunt of yours.”

His mouth is on yours before the words even register, taking your face in both of his hands as he leans backwards to lie flat on the bed, pulling you with him.

You settle across his hips, one leg thrown over each side of his own. The towel he miraculously still has tied across his waist is thin and you can feel his hardened cock beneath the cloth.

It’s dizzying. His feverish kiss, tongue poking out and asking for permission, his fingers gentle with just the right amount of pressure as he explores the length of your body. You’re in bliss, drunk on lust as you courageously swirl your hips in a soft circle, a noise of pleasure escaping the High Lord.

“Have you ever…” he asks as you kiss down his torso, licking a hot stripe against his freshly showered skin. You can feel his muscles flexing beneath your tongue and your pussy throbs with anticipation.

“No,” you admit, cheeks flushing as you look up at him, wide-eyed. The innocent look on your face has him groaning, tossing his head back into the pillow for a moment, his cock pulsing from it confines.

“Don’t worry,” he’s breathless, tugging you back up to his lips and kissing you desperately between words like you’re a drug he can’t get enough of, “I’ll take good care of you.”

He brushes your hair back from your face messily, fisting it at the nape of your neck as you climb back down his body. His other hand rips the towel away, his cock red and stiff and dripping at the tip. He circles a large hand around it, giving it a few rough tugs and you swallow thickly at the sight. He grunts, nudging your head towards his cock.

You poke out your tongue, giving the head a kitten lick that has him shuddering beneath you at the unexpected sensation. You don’t know why, surely he wouldn’t have been expecting you to take him completely when never having done this before. Your pussy clenches at his reaction and your heart pounds in your chest, nervous and excited to feel him in your mouth.

So you did another thing he wasn’t expecting, taking him as far into your mouth as you can, hitting the back of your throat pleasurably. Rhys’ hips bucked up instinctively, his hand holding your hair firmly in place and you gagged slightly, a wet squelch coming from the back of your throat where his cock hit and he rumbled with pleasure.

You plant your hands firmly on his hips, eyes watering as you let him take control, conquering your mouth and abusing it like he owns it. You whimper at the taste of him, heavy on your tongue, swirling around as much of his cock as you could, using your hand to twist around the base of it.

He moans. Your mouth is so warm, and so wet. It had been too long since he’d fucked, he can feel his orgasm building rapidly.

But he is nothing short of a gentleman, as he lifts you off of him with a hiss at the loss, the cool air of the room caressing his throbbing cock as he flips you over onto your back, a squeal leaving your lips, fingers scrambling for purchase, clawing as his back. 

He kisses you because he can’t stop himself, moaning at the taste. You let your hands slide up his torso, smooth and soft as butter, and you moan at the feeling as he lowers his chest against yours when your hands wrap up around his shoulders and bury in his midnight hair.

He parts your legs with his own, rutting his firm cock against the crease in your pants. 

You gasp at the sensation, mouths pressed firmly together, his tongue hot against yours. Your heart is racing in your chest and his hands climb up your sides, exploring, shoving your shirt up as he goes. You struggle to slip your arms from the fabric, lips still moving feverishly against his own, but your naked torso arches up into his, skin burning against yours.

Rhys moves from your lips, dragging them across your cheek, down under your ear, sucking a mark harshly into the soft skin while you turn your head away in bliss to give him more room. His hands snake up your body again, a fistful of your breast in one hand while the other jerks your thin shirt from around your neck, mouth back against your skin in an instant.

You moan as he sucks your nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling sensually around the pert nub as he rocks into you again, the material of your pants against his sensitive dick has him grunting. He needs you out of those immediately.

He takes his time, kissing every inch of you on the way down, fingers playing with the waistline of your pants, dipping below the fabric. It has your stomach clenching, swooping with want, whining when he removes his hands completely, only for him to rip at the laces of your pants a second later.

And he’s tutting as you clench your legs together, the coolness of the room an icicle against your exposed cunt. His large hands spread your legs apart and he eyes your pussy like it’s such a prize.

“You are exquisite,” he murmurs, kissing along your thigh, nipping and suckling, dragging his lips across the soft skin.

His eyes watch you, returning the favor as he licks tentatively across your clit, your low moan and arching up into the air has Rhys going back for a second taste.

It’s too much but not enough at the same time. This clearly is a male who knows his way around a female’s body, but it’s driving you nuts the way his tongue swirls and fucks, pulling you just to the edge but never quite letting you freefall into orgasm. No, he wants you to beg, like all of the High Lords will beg for their lives when he comes to take over their courts.

And you’re a female of survival, will do what you have to to make it through the night, to get what you want out of the High Lord who’s bowed down in front of your cunt, lapping into it like he was made for it.

“Please, Rhys,” you whine, burying your fingers into his hair and twerking your hips against his tongue, trying to get him in the perfect position. It almost works until he stops your movements with a palm settled across your midriff.

“Fuck,” he moans, licking a hot stripe across your pussy, “Say my name like that again.”

“High King Rhys,” you lower your voice, eyes half-lidded and looking down at him where his face is buried in your cunt, “Please let me come.”

He does, adding his fingers into the mix, fucking into you with abandon, dragging against the bundle of nerves that has your breath heaving, body tensing as he helps you topple over into your climax, fist in his hair, the other curled in the sheets, legs shaking as you come with a cry of utter pleasure.

He’s climbing up you while you try to catch your breath, sated from release. Rhys holds your face in his hands, kissing you too softly like it’s all over. It can’t be, you feel too good but you haven’t even felt his long cock inside of you yet, and you go to speak, but he’s pressing his cock into you and your mouth goes lax at the sensation.

It seems like it lasts forever, him pressing into you so slowly, the drag of his long cock pushing all of the air from your lungs.

And you feel so good that he can’t even kiss you, pressing his forehead harshly into yours as his hips settle against your own, nothing but the sound of your shaky shared breath filling the room.

Shit, you didn’t think you could ever be so full, and its pure euphoria, the starbursts behind your shut eyes, Rhys’ lithe body pressed firmly against yours, your legs wrapped around his waist, holding each other so tightly you don’t want to let go.

Can I move? He asks into your mind because he can’t speak. Because he’s using every ounce of resolve he has to keep himself from ravishing you completely. 

Gods, please, you respond mentally, and then he’s pulling out and slamming back into you just as quick, ripping a moan from your throat that settles deep within his bones.

He sets the pace, rocking into you rhythmically and with fervor, like he hasn’t enough time. His kisses are all teeth and sounds of arousal, but you can’t find it in yourself to mind while he’s fucking into you like the God he’ll be when he takes over Prythian.

It’s nearly too much to handle, the way his chest glides across yours with each thrust, his lips searching for yours in a desperate kiss, his hands everywhere as if he’s mapping each and every single thing about you, admitting it all to memory like the first and last time you’ll be together.

And you claw at his back because it’s the only thing you can do besides moan. You can’t even put words together to form a complete sentence, a plea of his name here, a cry of pleasure there as the feeling of your orgasm starts building within you.

Rhys hits that spot everytime without fail, no matter what position he puts you in. Leg lifted up around his shoulder, flipped over on your stomach, riding him. It’s like he’s inside of you somehow, knows exactly where his cock feels the best, buried deep within your tight cunt.

You come with a howl of his name on your lips and you’re sure everyone in the inn has heard you begging the future High King for release. And he fucks you through it, drawing out your keen as long as he can, cock somehow even harder as he praises himself.

He pulls out with a grunt and then he’s coming all over your stomach, spurting across your chest until he’s spent, collapsing back on his haunches as he stares down at you. His pupils are blown wide as you look up at him through half-lidded eyes, swirling a finger around in the come on your stomach, then ever so slowly raising that digit up to your lips and sucking on it lewdly.

“Oh,” he breathes, and his cock twitches with interest even though he’s just orgasmed, “You’re coming with us, (Y/N).”

[declanlikesmusic]

Listening Highlights: Episode 001

August 13th to 20th, 2023

Hello! Just as soon as I've started a new series, I've decided to put it off and make a new series! (Expect this.) Trying to keep up with daily posts was simply not worth it. Much as I was so excited to kick that series off, I thankfully decided to turn it off before it became too much of a chore for me and I'm glad that I did. Because now, we have a different format to substitute it!

Welcome to Listening Highlights, where I go over what I've been listening to as of recently! There's no set time for each episode, I just talk about music when I feel Autistic enough to do it. I also wanted to be more selective with what I talk about this time around; for the most part, that didn't happen, I'm just so Autistic that I went over pretty much all of the past week. So let's go!

Drake – If You're Reading This It's Too Late (2015)

The first thing I listened to after the last Today's Listens episode, I spent that morning with the 6 God himself, the man behind such classics as Way 2 Sexy and that one line where he calls himself a lesbian. He's one of the most popular figures of music right now and it's to the point where either you detest his trajectory as one of the most bland musicians going or you're LosPollosTV. I'm in the former camp and I do not look forward to having to try out his latest records any time soon, but at least I have this mixtape to fall back on whenever I need a reminder that Drake can spit. This turned out surprisingly great & consistent. I especially loved most of the beats on here, especially the ones that were sampled on I'll Try Living Like This (a cool album & also vaporwave). The energy is great and Drake even has some touching vulnerable moments as well. I highly recommend it and probably no other Drake release.

7.8 / 10

Highlights: Legend, Energy, Know Yourself, No Tellin', Madonna, 6 God, Now & Forever, You & the 6

The rest of that day was not too interesting. I listened to Western Digital's lost signal, which was a decent vaporwave and broken transmission EP. I bring it up because its closing track, glowing (disintegration), is one of the most haunting, harrowing and almost hopeless pieces of plunderphonic music I have ever heard. I highly recommend it for that alone, it sounded like distantly watching the world burn and collapse in front of you while bunkered away. I then finally gave a listen to lilien rosarian's second album every flower in my garden, which I didn't care all too much for. As much as I appreciate the production & the pretty soundscapes, they felt much less like songs than her 2019 debut. After that, I took another very slow step in conquering waterfront dining's monotonous discography with the FEELS 感じている EP, which was actually his first release in general and not his debut album that I rated before. I cared for it even less; it was a much rougher batch of vaporwave that was particularly underproduced & repetitive.

billy woods & Kenny Segal – Maps (2023)

So I decided to go through with another 2023 release and this one I wasn't too particularly excited about. Abstract Hip Hop has been hit or miss for me most days and that's usually to do with the production, so when I heard that billy woods was joining up with producer Kenny Segal again after 2019's Hiding Places, I was even less thrilled at the idea, because I did not like that at all at the time and I only now think that album was okay. But holy shit, Maps blew my expectations way out of the water! The beats are far better here, by miles, the samples are awesome and the beat drums are consistently excellent. billy woods continues to be a great rapper but it's not usually the lyricism that sells a hip hop record to me. It's the production that helps make me wanna look into the lyrics and this album handily succeeds at letting billy shine like that. I came out of this record with so many favourites, way more memorable highlights across the board than on most other billy records I've heard so far. Extremely high recommendation, genuinely makes me feel like I've been missing something from billy's records all this time.

8.4 / 10

Highlights: Soft Landing, Soundcheck, Blue Smoke, Babylon by Bus, Year Zero, Baby Steps, The Layover, FaceTime, Houdini, Waiting Around

Skimming through some more albums here, you'll notice one of them is home to one of the biggest vaporwave & future funk songs of all time, Private Caller. This is SAINT PEPSI's split album with ショッピングワールドjp titled Winner's Circle. I wanted to give this another fair shake, just in case SP's overshadowing of JP's side comes off as undeserved. But no, that first side is genuinely some weak & weirdly produced mallsoft-ish vaporwave. Not my cup of tea in comparison to the great second half. Speaking of giving lower vaporwave albums a fair shake, when christtt tells you this is one of the best vaporwave albums of all time, it's always a coin flip as to whether that's even close. Careless Messenger Recordings✆ (division under Comtex)'s sole album Suddenly Mega is not close at all. It's one of the slowest & most lethargic listens I've had in a vaporwave album and some of its many cuts are especially poorly produced.

Skymmr – your new home (2017)

Back in 2017, there was this group of very tiny vaporwave & plunderphonics producers who were given the password to a Bandcamp page and told to run wild with it. It was a practice that, in many ways, was horrible in hindsight, with how shoddily it was managed and how toxic some of the people in the group were. But underneath all of the gunk they shoved out, one record by fellow Aussie Skymmr stood out as not only a captivating example of the extremely abstract ethos of the music released there, but also was great & conceptully fascinating. your new home is a 7-minute 7-part suite of experimental plunderphonics & vaporwave sound collage and it's very cryptic about this theme of entering a new home and it not being at all what it seems. The result is probably the only record of that collective I ever regularly came back to and it even held up for me today. It's not my highest recommendation, this is definitely a more personal thing to me, but if you're curious, do check it out.

8.4 / 10

Highlights: gazing through the window, the man in the bathroom pipe cleaning (he isn't what he says he is), isn't this your new home?

The next day, I felt like kicking off the morning with some metal and one of my girlfriend's highest recommendations was Between the Buried and Me's Colours. It was a damn great time with some incredibly high energy throughout. After that was Ariana Grande's Sweetener, not my first full-length experience with her music, but one that I decided to rate first here anyway thanks to my favourite discog diver. That evening, me and my girlfriend decided to do a discog diving listening party ourselves by listening to every song netbooks.WRLD publically released to Bandcamp, which amounted to only two and a half hours. It was an excellent time and constantly high energy & fun. I recommend his debut album ENDLESS STAIRCASE for getting into his currently short but incredibly promising catalogue.

The day after that, I slogged through DJ VLAD's frankly exhausting Hardvapour. double mix. It was an okay time with some highlights, but it frankly served as a reminder of why that submovement of vapour burned bright & fast with toxic fumes. A few months back, I was recommended You're Doomed. Be Nice. by Rob Crow's Gloomy Place and to my pleasant surprise, this was a genuinely great indie rock record. The riffs & choruses were shockingly well-written and pretty catchy, through my only gripe was how understated the majority of it sounded. Still, I fully loved my experience with that album, unlike Facade by one of vaporwave's earliest come-and-go producers Psychic LCD, which I only loved about half the time. This was a full detour into progressive electronic ambient music and hoo boy, it sure sounds like it. It's definitely an ambient album with hints of progressive electronic music. It's decent, but I just don't think it should necessarily be noticed.

stab something – the art of copyright infringement (2014)

The end of that day, I tackled the final multi-track release by the early 2010s duo of stab something, which comprised of then-upcoming vaporwave legend christtt alongside then-upcoming beloved trans songwriter & producer Jamie Paige. They went on their separate ways after this particular EP, but my god, at least it still they had the magic in them together. Their full-length self-titled album is frankly astounding; it's some of the creative, upbeat & fun glitch hop / plunderphonics records I have ever heard and while this EP is much more small-scaled by comparison, it continues what made the duo so good. It's only 15 minutes, 5 tracks but it's just as creative, upbeat & fun with glitch hop & plunderphonics as that album, albeit without fully-fledged cohesion, which is kind of in its nature. I dearly recommend both of these records, at least the sole album itself.

8.6 / 10

Highlights: in and out, cheesecake

What else have I heard this week? Well, there was this one time two vaportrap icons VAPERROR & COCAINEJESUS collaborated under the Love Potion duo moniker with their album XXX. That was amazing at the time and even now, it's still an incredibly consistent and great wave album. I also listened to non-canon by Late Arcane after hearing their great album PreQuel from this year. This was more of the same punchy and creatively chopped together vaporfunk that was provided there, although on first listen, it's a lot lesser for me by comparison. There was also the first of a series of EPs by Street Sects, Gentrification I. It was mid. Whatever magic they were forcing through on their debut album End Position might just be a fluke after all these years.

There's about five more records that I heard after that, but at this rate, I kinda don't want to say much about any of them? Not because they're bad, not really, I just cannot say any notable things about each of these records, not even as much as I already did the rest of these. I adore Everything Everything as a band, but A Fever Dream is easily one of their weakest efforts, even if it's still a bit great. This weird STAR GIRL alias I heard many years ago put out the weirdly fascinating RNBW EP almost a decade ago (what the fuck) and I decided to finally listen to its predecessor, STAR. It was much less captivating & interesting despite being kinda similar in concept.Rebecca Peake was another side-project of death's dynamic shroud members, but even when compiling songs from the first two months of recording a song every day for a year, The World's Strongest was so inconsistent that I can hardly tell you what to make of it. Bladee & Ecco2K's Crest was just not a good listen to my ears. There's a 9 minute song that felt like 6 different tracks, I had to check what I was listening to multiple times. Plus, aside from Ecco clearly singing the higher passages, for the most part, I could not tell these two apart. Call me a not-member of the Drain Gang, I guess. Finally of this batch, I checked out bodyline's ファンタジーモニター、which was another healthy serving of really deceptively simple but clearly well-produced vaporwave. I do love what they're often going for, but this was just barely my least favourite so far; still very damn good.

I wanna close out this retrospective with two albums. First being Anderson .Paak's Oxnard, which is in my opinion, one of the most underrated albums of the past decade. Not that .Paak is not popular, he clearly is, that Silk Sonic album was excellent, but before that, people were dying for another Malibu from this guy and while they ended up getting that in the form of Ventura, it was not before the music community got "let down" by Oxnard and they dragged the album for it. I think it's a great album with some excellent singing, rapping, songwriting and producing across the board. It was really slept on. Lastly, Blank Banshee just incredibly recently dropped his fifth mainline album 4D. I have a lot of thoughts that I don't even think are cohesive yet on just one listen of this brand new thing, so that's why I've decided to give it its own review on RateYourMusic that you can check out right here.

There you have it. Where I've been with music for the past week! Will I do something like this again? Hopefully! Will I talk about a full week's worth of music again? Hopefully not! Until then, stay safe and tie your shoes!

[quietlyimplode]

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist of Fic Recs - Version 2.0 - Page 1

Page 1 / Page 2 / Page 3 / Page 4 / Page 5

Updated June 2021

This is not an exhaustive list (and in no order whatsoever) of the brilliant fic that is out there. Please let me know of any i have missed or any recs to put in and I will endeavour to add it. I have not included warnings or ratings. Please make sure you look at the tags, judge for yourself and as always take care of yourself first. (17 authors under the cut)

The Irish Mayhem @the-irish-mayhem

White - part of Perfection of Duality Series - the making of Natasha Romanoff. One of my favourite fics in the world. I will love it forever.  -    25/25

Perfection of Duality- part two - Natasha - Natasha in shield - 4/?

Mypedia @sebuttstianstan

anything that bleeds - Natasha - Natasha is a sub. Don’t let that fool you, Natasha’s backstory with bdsm elements. 21/22

Shadesfalcon @shadesfalcon

Like Real People Do - Clint/Nat - ‘Do we have song?’ Iterations of what’s the ties that bind them together.    1/1

Whether you ask it or not - Clint/Nat - Natasha gets poisoned - and has the line ‘“’Night, little dragon. May your fires ever burn hot upon your unsuspecting foes.”    1/1

Sometimes winning means you’re the last one standing - ot6+everyone - don’t play ‘never have I ever’ without some laughs and trauma rearing its head   1/1

I am good - Clint/Nat/Laura - Clint brings Natasha home for the first time.   1/1

Careful She Bites - Clint/Nat - don’t confront Natasha about the handcuffs. Just don’t.  2/2

What happens here stays here - Clint/Nat- Natasha can’t remember Budapest.  1/1

Koren M- cybermathwitch

I’d Make Room for you - Clint/Nat/Laura - perspectives of each other are important. 1/1

Course Corrections - Clint/Nat/Laura - taking care of each other 2/2 snippets into conversations/life Course Corrections (Age of Ultron Fix-It Fic)

As if you have a choice - Clint/Nat - Natasha gets pregnant. They know they can’t keep it. 3/3

The weight of us - series of 11 - my fav is ‘Seeing Red’ and ‘Sharp and Sweet’. Clint/Nat shield days

Red Flag Warning - Natasha - red is a warning colour. Clint should know.   1/1

Edgeofthegalaxy @natasha-romanoff-deserved-better

buried in your bones, i see it in your closed eyes - Natasha dissociates and its a long way back Clint/Nat 1/1

Origins - Young Natasha in the red room, of learning morality and goodness. 1/1

But even the strong can fall - Natasha goes silent on a mission, Clint knows something is very wrong. Clint/Nat 2/2

Just a Kid - sometimes Natasha doesn’t realise how messed up her childhood was. Sometimes she needs to be told. Nat/team 1/1

Collateral Damage - Natasha comes home from a mission; Tony needs to patch her up. Tony & Nat 1/1

Daughter of Rohan @natrasharomanova

Living Louder - Clint/Nat - break my heart. Origin stories.   21/21

Beside you (sequel to living louder) - Clint/Nat - shield falls. Clint and Nat find each other in the aftermath.

It’s still raining - Clint/Nat - everything happens when it’s raining.  1/1

You are a piece of me, I wish I didn’t need. Clint/Nat/Laura/family. Clint brings Nat to the farm for the first time. Healing ensues.   1/1

Impossibilities- Clint/Nat but with Pepper/Maria/Darcy and Jane - Natasha is pregnant?   1/1

Wake my spirit Cold - Clint/Nat - Christmas throughout the years -    1/1

(We could be) infinite - Clint/Nat - ENDGAME FIX IT. The soul stone split in two. No one dies.    1/1

I am not the only traveler who has not repaid his debt - Clint/Nat - ENDGAME FIX IT. Natasha dies but is alive in a multiverse. Clint dies in the alternate. They meet in the middle.     1/1

Sugarfey @sugarfey

Chrysalis - Natasha - this is how it goes and how she came to be.  Ashes series  1/3

A walk on part in the war. Natasha - Drakovs daughter is ‘saved’.  Ashes.  2/3

World on Fire - Clint (/Natasha) Clint has a history and can play the guitar.  Ashes   3/3 - my favourite part.

First Name Basis- Clint/Nat - getting to know you.    1/1

Right where I used to be - Clint/Nat - it’s Natasha’s birthday, Clint uses this to get to know her better.    1/1

Once was lost - Clint/Nat - slow burn, Natasha offers herself to him once.    1/1

Expresso is not an option - Nat/Maria - ‘you could destroy shield in a heartbeat, couldn’t you?’

Thursdays Child - Nat/fury - fury mentors Natasha-from afar.    1/1

Shelter - Clint/Nat/liho/lucky - Lucky puts one big paw on Natasha’s knee and looks at her as though she hung the sky with pizza -   1/1

Almost home - Natasha - find a mooring and settles -    1/1

Long spaces 3/3 - Natasha/Clint - natasha and Clint fit together - all the broken pieces. .  3/3

Inkvoices - @inkvoices

Smile for the living - POST ENDGAME - Natasha is brought back.     1/1

In deed- Clint/Bucky/Nat. In which dogs and deeds are discussed.    1/1

Driver chooses the music. Clint/Nat - get in the car.

On Names - Clint/Nat- she goes by many names -  1/1

AlwaysLera

Fallout Patterns - what happens when your mind is a nuclear bomb? Nat/Clint - sex is not always sex when trauma is as deep as hers -   14/14

Breathe me with your hands - Clint/Nat - navigating sex -  1/2 One Red Thread Series- Nats pov.

Hold you by the edges - 2/2 One Red Thread - Clint’s pov.

Ghosts that we knew - Clint/Nat - aftermath of the avengers. Natasha navigating the world when Clint safewords out. 15/?? Unfinished.

How the day sounds - Clint/Nat - thanksgiving throughout the years -     14/15 (?fluffy)

You were a kindness - Clint/Nat - a perfect look at the trauma of being brought in. Let herself be nothing but a branch. Let herself be nothing but stardust. Stardust could not be hurt. Stardust could not be used. Stardust could not be held.    1/1

Crashing, understanding, blinding, tumbling - Nat/Tony - plane crashes - tony takes care of Natasha whilst blinded -    1/1

Two plus two is five - Clint/Nat - how do you test a concussion? Two plus two is five in large quantities of two.   1/1

Into the dark (song fic) - team after harrowing mission watch Clint and Natasha dance - 1/1

The ocean carry you home - team- pepper is pregnant, Natasha doesn’t cope well with the news. Yellow blue bus.    1/1

Enigma731 @enigma731

Something just like this - Clint/Nat - Clint is depressed. Natasha doesn’t know how to help.    1/1

Going to the Chapel. Clint/Nat - get married in Budapest and have sex.

September - Tony/Nat bonding - Tony makes a memory machine to cure ptsd, Natasha helps.   1/1

Everything Costs - Clint/Nat- Natasha keeps getting hurt on missions, Clint wants to know why.  1/1

That’s way you showed me (I wasn’t quite so alone) - Clint/Nat - 3 christmas’ -    1/1

Prompts (some lovely short 1 shorts) - team assorted -   13/?

It starts with Time - Natasha - Natasha goes looking for her family -   1/1

The war I can’t win - Natasha/Clint - Clint gets injured. Natasha is his support.  1/1 (it mentions Occupational Therapy this is a winner)

We are not shining stars - Natasha/Laura + Clint - Clint dies (fair warning) it’s all Natasha can do to cope.    1/1

Unpack your heart - Clint/Nat - in the beginning they left post it notes -   1/1

Hearts and Bones and Blood - Natasha/Clint - Clint saves Natasha from mental health services when she first comes to shield. Because sometimes she gets lost in her own head.

What Girls are Made of - Nat/team - 5x Natasha has unconventional means of flying.    1/1

Ghost Towns - Clint/Nat - Natasha has memories implanted in her head, shield medical and Clint try to help.   1/1

The glass parade - Steve /Natasha - he watches her become different people.  1/1

Slipsthrufingers

Cleanliness Is Next To… - Nat/Clint- Or Five Memorable Showers Clint Barton and Natasha Have Had, and One Time There Was a Bath Instead. -  1/1

The more you know - Clint/Nat - this is what they learn first (or Natasha is not what is written in her file) -  1/1

Perspectives - Nat/team - perspective and interpretations; what do you see?

OracleGlass

safe as houses - Clint/Nat - what makes them go to a nonshield safehouse?

The clutch of circumstance - Clint/Nat- he helps her start. 1/1

Ranni

Voluntary Procedure - Clint and Natasha agree to be mind wiped. The others are not happy - Clint/Nat/Team 6/6

Stronghold - Natasha and Clint shut down their various safehouse. Clint/Nat (team) 1/1

Spy Vs Spy (recced by Anon) - Clint & Coulson & Natasha - Natasha Romanov was the most beautiful person in the room and nobody asked her to dance. 2/2

Paperairplanesopenwindows @paperairplanesopenwindows

On the first day of Christmas - Clint/Nat/Laura- Laura wants to celebrate, Clint and Nat aren’t so sure - 1/1

A little to the left - Clint/Nat/Laura - she’s Natasha but a little to the left (POST ENDGAME) -   4/4

Family Togetherness Time - Clint/Nat/Laura - Steve gets concerned about Nat and turns to the people he thinks can help. 3/3

Eauline

In every lifetime I choose you - Nat/Steve - Natasha gets captured to get to Steve. 11/11

MillyVeil

Burn baby, burn. Clint/Nat - Clint saves Natasha from heatstroke. 1/1

Teamwork - Clint/Nat - fuck or die, Clint’s not ok but Natasha is. He doesn’t understand. -   2/2

Other people - Clint/Nat- she’s up for some monkey sex until she’s not.    2/2

altheterrible @altheterrible

Shining white in the sun - Natasha - Clint dies, Natasha tries to cope. She doesn’t do it very well. 7/7

tastes - team - different tastes in points in time - 1/1

strix_alba

places to go, people to be- Natasha - Natasha gets to decide who she really is after the fall of shield 1/1

[duckiereads]

10 YA Books by Black Authors You Need to be Reading Right Now

Last week, USA Today published a list of 50 Black YA authors to check out--and they're all great authors you should check out! But some other authors that I absolutely adore and deserve all the attention in the world. So, if you'd like more than these ten--please seek out that list for 50 more stellar authors (in their words: from Angie Thomas to Walter Dean Meyers!)

As always, the covers and jacket copy are from publishers’ sites! If they didn’t have info available, I used info from author sites! :)

If any of these interest you and if you are able, please support your favorite independent bookstores when purchasing these and other books!

A Blade So Black by L. L. McKinney

The first time the Nightmares came, it nearly cost Alice her life. Now she's trained to battle monstrous creatures in the dark dream realm known as Wonderland with magic weapons and hardcore fighting skills. Yet even warriors have a curfew. Life in real-world Atlanta isn't always so simple, as Alice juggles an overprotective mom, a high-maintenance best friend, and a slipping GPA. Keeping the Nightmares at bay is turning into a full-time job. But when Alice's handsome and mysterious mentor is poisoned, she has to find the antidote by venturing deeper into Wonderland than she’s ever gone before. And she'll need to use everything she's learned in both worlds to keep from losing her head... literally.

The Belles by Dhonielle Clayton

Camellia Beauregard is a Belle. In the opulent world of Orleans, Belles are revered, for they control Beauty, and Beauty is a commodity coveted above all else. In Orleans, the people are born gray, they are born damned, and only with the help of a Belle and her talents can they transform and be made beautiful. But it’s not enough for Camellia to be just a Belle. She wants to be the favorite—the Belle chosen by the Queen of Orleans to live in the royal palace, to tend to the royal family and their court, to be recognized as the most talented Belle in the land. But once Camellia and her Belle sisters arrive at court, it becomes clear that being the favorite is not everything she always dreamed it would be. Behind the gilded palace walls live dark secrets, and Camellia soon learns that the very essence of her existence is a lie—that her powers are far greater, and could be more dangerous, than she ever imagined. And when the queen asks Camellia to risk her own life and help the ailing princess by using Belle powers in unintended ways, Camellia now faces an impossible decision. With the future of Orleans and its people at stake, Camellia must decide: save herself and her sisters and the way of the Belles, or resuscitate the princess, risk her own life, and change the ways of her world forever.

When the Stars Lead to You by Ronni Davis

Eighteen-year-old Devon longs for two things: The stars, and the boy she fell in love with last summer. When Ashton breaks Devon's heart at the end of the most romantic summer ever, she thinks her heart will never heal again. But over the course of the following year, Devon finds herself slowly putting the broken pieces back together. Now it's senior year and she's determined to enjoy every moment of it, as she prepares for a future studying galaxies. That is, until Ashton shows up on the first day of school. Can she forgive and open her heart to him again? Or are they doomed to repeat history?

The Good Luck Girls by Charlotte Nicole Davis

Aster, the protector Violet, the favorite Tansy, the medic Mallow, the fighter Clementine, the catalyst THE GOOD LUCK GIRLS The country of Arketta calls them Good Luck Girls—they know their luck is anything but. Sold to a “welcome house” as children and branded with cursed markings. Trapped in a life they would never have chosen. When Clementine accidentally kills a man, the girls risk a dangerous escape and harrowing journey to find freedom, justice, and revenge in a country that wants them to have none of those things. Pursued by Arketta’s most vicious and powerful forces, both human and inhuman, their only hope lies in a bedtime story passed from one Good Luck Girl to another, a story that only the youngest or most desperate would ever believe. It’s going to take more than luck for them all to survive.

I Wanna Be Where You Are by Kristina Forest

When Chloe Pierce’s mom forbids her to apply for a spot at the dance conservatory of her dreams, she devises a secret plan to drive two hundred miles to the nearest audition. But Chloe hits her first speed bump when her annoying neighbor Eli insists upon hitching a ride, threatening to tell Chloe’s mom if she leaves him and his smelly dog, Geezer, behind. So now Chloe’s chasing her ballet dreams down the east coast—two unwanted (but kinda cute) passengers in her car, butterflies in her stomach, and a really dope playlist on repeat. Filled with roadside hijinks, heart-stirring romance, and a few broken rules, Kristina Forest's I Wanna Be Where You Are is a YA debut perfect for fans of Jenny Han and Sandhya Menon.

Yesterday is History by Kosoko Jackson

Weeks ago, Andre Cobb received a much-needed liver transplant. He's ready for his life to finally begin, until one night, when he passes out and wakes up somewhere totally unexpected…in 1969, where he connects with a magnetic boy named Michael. And then, just as suddenly as he arrived, he slips back to present-day Boston, where the family of his donor is waiting to explain that his new liver came with a side effect—the ability to time travel. And they've tasked their youngest son, Blake, with teaching Andre how to use his unexpected new gift. Andre splits his time bouncing between the past and future. Between Michael and Blake. Michael is everything Andre wishes he could be, and Blake, still reeling from the death of his brother, Andre's donor, keeps him at arm's length despite their obvious attraction to each other. Torn between two boys, one in the past and one in the present, Andre has to figure out where he belongs—and more importantly who he wants to be—before the consequences of jumping in time catch up to him and change his future for good.

Cinderella is Dead by Kalynn Bayron

It's 200 years since Cinderella found her prince, but the fairytale is over. Sophia knows the story though, off by heart. Because every girl has to recite it daily, from when she's tiny until the night she's sent to the royal ball for choosing. And every girl knows that she has only one chance. For the lives of those not chosen by a man at the ball … are forfeit. But Sophia doesn't want to be chosen – she's in love with her best friend, Erin, and hates the idea of being traded like cattle. And when Sophia's night at the ball goes horribly wrong, she must run for her life. Alone and terrified, she finds herself hiding in Cinderella's tomb. And there she meets someone who will show her that she has the power to remake her world...

The Wicker King by K. Ancrum

Jack once saved August's life…now can August save him? August is a misfit with a pyro streak and Jack is a golden boy on the varsity rugby team—but their intense friendship goes way back. Jack begins to see increasingly vivid hallucinations that take the form of an elaborate fantasy kingdom creeping into the edges of the real world. With their parents’ unreliable behavior, August decides to help Jack the way he always has—on his own. He accepts the visions as reality, even when Jack leads them on a quest to fulfill a dark prophecy. August and Jack alienate everyone around them as they struggle with their sanity, free falling into the surreal fantasy world that feels made for them. In the end, each one must choose his own truth. Written in vivid micro-fiction with a stream-of-consciousness feel and multimedia elements, K. Ancrum's The Wicker King touches on themes of mental health and explores a codependent relationship fraught with tension, madness and love.

Dread Nation by Justina Ireland

Jane McKeene was born two days before the dead began to walk the battlefields of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania—derailing the War Between the States and changing the nation forever. In this new America, safety for all depends on the work of a few, and laws like the Native and Negro Education Act require certain children attend combat schools to learn to put down the dead. But there are also opportunities—and Jane is studying to become an Attendant, trained in both weaponry and etiquette to protect the well-to-do. It's a chance for a better life for Negro girls like Jane. After all, not even being the daughter of a wealthy white Southern woman could save her from society’s expectations. But that’s not a life Jane wants. Almost finished with her education at Miss Preston's School of Combat in Baltimore, Jane is set on returning to her Kentucky home and doesn’t pay much mind to the politics of the eastern cities, with their talk of returning America to the glory of its days before the dead rose. But when families around Baltimore County begin to go missing, Jane is caught in the middle of a conspiracy, one that finds her in a desperate fight for her life against some powerful enemies. And the restless dead, it would seem, are the least of her problems.

The Blossom and the Firefly by Sherri L Smith

Japan 1945. Taro is a talented violinist and a kamikaze pilot in the days before his first and only mission. He believes he is ready to die for his country . . . until he meets Hana. Hana hasn’t been the same since the day she was buried alive in a collapsed trench during a bomb raid. She wonders if it would have been better to have died that day . . . until she meets Taro. A song will bring them together. The war will tear them apart. Is it possible to live an entire lifetime in eight short days?

And now that I've hit ten books, I realized I totally overlooked Coe Booth, so please consider her my honorable mention until I do another list round up.

Which of these books are you excited about reading? I've been counting down until the end of the semester to read The Good Luck Girls!

[goofygomez]

Moonlit Wishes - A Rayllum Fanfic

Hey everyone, long time no see! I've been on hiatus for a very long time, and it's very quite good for my mental health. Recently I binged The Dragon Prince on Netflix (highly recommend it) and decided to do as I do and write a fic for it.

This one in particular is inspired by @raayllum's amazing Hiatus Hoedown. This time I'm taking a crack at Day 1: Talking to the moon. Hope you guys enjoy it.

Here's a link to the Ao3 story, if you'd prefer to read it on there.

Description: Callum and Rayla discuss the differences in their cultures' way of wishing upon celestial bodies, fluff ensues.

Wordcount: 3386

----

Callum had always loved the moon, even as a child. It had always looked to him as a watchful eye, surveying the world beneath it. His mother would take him on nightly strolls along the castle to go see it, and she knew the secret passages to the highest towers without alerting the Crownsguard. She called them ‘their little adventures’. Of course, she was the Queen, so they did not really need to sneak around, but Callum found their nighttime wanderings something… magical.

They would stare up at the moon and tell each other about their days, sometimes sharing a jelly tart from the town baker until eventually, he’d fall asleep on her lap. He never did get to tell his mother how much those nights meant to him before it was too late. Nearly ten years later, that void in his heart still ached every time he looked up at that beautiful silver moon.

“What’ya thinking about?” came the voice of Rayla from behind him. He turned to see his girlfriend tilting her head at him.

“Nothing, just… thinking,” he said.

“Oh, that’s specific,” teased the elf.

Callum rolled his eyes and took her hand in his, four fingers against five. Her silver hair fell gracefully over her shoulders, a small braid poking its way through it on her left side. Her lilac eyes, bright and alert as ever, looked into his green ones, and a goofy grin spread across her lips.

“Just thinking about you… and how beautiful you are,” he said, trying his best at sounding smooth. It was partially downplayed by his voice cracking, but she giggled nonetheless.

“Shut up, you dummy.” She punched him playfully on the shoulder.

“C’mon, I wanna show you this place,” he said, gesturing behind him.

They were on the outskirts of the Katolian Capital’s forest, walking down a partially obscured path. Large, ancient trees stood like sentries on either side of them, their tops barely obscuring the silver rays of moonlight seeping through the branches, casting odd, elongated shadows over the packed dirt. Dead leaves and pine needles were strewn about haphazardly, almost deliberately to accentuate their footfalls.

Callum thought of the last time he came to this particular spot with his brother and step-father. It seemed an eternity ago that they’d played ‘I spy’ on this very path. Now, their father was dead and Ezran, newly crowned King of Katolis, had spent the first few months of his rule advocating for the union of the human kingdoms with the Xadian population, with Callum at his side. It had not been easy so far, as some wounds were still fresh in the other rulers’ minds, but Ezran had still not lost hope.

Rayla had been with them most of the time, trying her best to be an ambassador for the young king, though her status with the Moonshadow elves was still under review. Callum assured her that they would eventually be forced to lift her banishment, but some of the elder elves were… stubborn in their thinking. He just hoped they would listen to them when they arrived there next month.

After a few minutes of silent pacing, punctuated solely by their soft footsteps and the occasional chirping of crickets, they arrived at a large clearing. Just ahead of them, a small lake shimmered under the moonlight. The packed dirt on the path gave way to lush green grass, illuminated both by the starry sky and fireflies. The bank closest to them was filled with small boulders, eroded by millennia of contact with the eerily still waters.

Callum stepped back to let Rayla see the whole picture and grinned.

“So? What do you think?”

The elf glanced around the clearing with awe and wonder in her eyes. Callum did not fail to notice her disgruntled expression directed at the peaceful water.

“Don’t worry, we’re not going into the lake,” he assured her, chuckling when Rayla sighed dramatically.

“Thank the Moon,” she said, nodding. “If you had brought me to a nighttime swim, I would probably break up with you.”

“Duly noted.” He took her hand again and led her to one of the boulders, careful not to steer her too close to the water’s edge. “I just thought it would be fun to just… hang out here.”

They sat on the rock and spread out, stretching their legs slightly after a half-hour walk down the forest.

“It does seem peaceful,” she conceded, laying her head on his shoulder. “Been a while since we were able to do this.”

Callum sighed. “I know.” Between assisting his brother and Rayla’s constant trips to and from Xadia, they had not had much time to themselves as a couple. “I promise to make a little more time when you’re here.”

“At least it’s for a good cause, right?” said Rayla. “I mean, Ez needs all the help he can get. Plus, we’ve got a lot of time to… catch up once things settle down.” She looked up at him with a fond smile.

Callum thought of all the times, even before they got together, that they just sat on a patch of dirt or some rock, looking at the sky and wondering when their mission would be over; wondering if they’d ever see their homes again, or would live to tell the tale.

“I just want to know when that is. Even just an estimate would be nice,” he said half-heartedly, letting out a deep breath and leaning forward to place a caste kiss on her lips. “But this is worth the wait.”

“Look who’s all sappy all of a sudden,” she said with a grin and kissed him again. “I love you, dummy.”

“I love you, too.”

They sat there, enjoying each other’s presence for what felt like forever, but could only have been ten minutes. A soft breeze had picked up from the east, creating ripples on the otherwise still surface of the lake; distorting the reflection from the crescent moon above. He looked up once more, wondering if his mother was out there somewhere, overjoyed that her sons were following in her and Harrow’s footsteps.

Just as he scanned the sky for whatever signs she would send him, something incredible happened. Almost as if called upon by his thoughts, a shooting star streaked across the star-strewn sky, bright and beautiful. As fast as it had come, it vanished.

“Look, did you see that?” he exclaimed excitedly, pointing at the spot where it had just been.

“Uh, what am I looking at?” asked Rayla, confused.

“The shooting star, right there.” He closed his eyes and muttered under his breath. He could feel Rayla staring at him, and after a few seconds, opened his eyes to see her wide-eyed and thoroughly confused.

“Wha- What just happened?” she said, glancing between him and the sky.

“It’s a shooting star,” he said matter-of-factly. “When you see one, you make a wish. Don’t elves do that?”

“Wait, humans wish upon shooting stars?” she asked incredulously. “Why?”

Callum shrugged. “I don’t know, we just do. It’s a tradition or something.”

“Humans are weird.”

“Sure, what do you guys wish upon? The moon?” he said with a smirk, enjoying a little too much how pink her cheeks got.

Rayla scoffed. “As a matter of fact, we do,” she said, trying and failing to sound indignant.

“But the moon is there every night,” he said, glancing up at the sky and frowning. “That’s a lot of wishes.”

“We only wish on a New Moon, dummy,” she explained patiently.

“Why only the New Moon?” Callum asked, genuinely curious. It seemed logical enough that they wouldn’t wish on the moon every single night, but any insight into his girlfriend’s culture was something he did not take lightly.

“Well, the idea is that a New Moon signals the beginning of another cycle. The halfway point between two Full Moons, which is when we’re at our strongest. The Moon Arcanum supposedly… blesses us when we’re at our weakest.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Callum said pensively. “More sense than whatever humans came up for shooting stars, at least.”

“So… what did you wish for just now?”

“I can’t say.”

“Why? Is it embarrassing?” teased Rayla, poking him in the ribs. He chuckled but shook his head.

“No, because if I tell you, it won’t come true.”

“Well that’s no fun,” she said with a pout.

Callum shrugged and scooted closer to Rayla, taking her right hand in his and squeezing gently. They both sighed contently, almost as if they knew what the other was thinking; could sense the peacefulness and the stillness of the air around them.

“Tell you what, if it comes true, I’ll let you know,” he said, kissing the top of her head, careful to avoid her horns.

“Sounds good,” she said. “So what were you muttering before? I have good hearing but it barely sounded like words.”

“It’s like a little song you say before you make your wish?”

Rayla studied him curiously, nodding along as he spoke. She seemed to be thinking about something, debating with herself. She blinked once and looked into his eyes.

“Would you teach me?” she asked softly.

“You wanna make a wish?” he said. When she nodded, he sat up straight, facing her. He took her hands in his and grinned. “Repeat after me. Star bright, star light.”

She nodded and followed his instructions. She closed her eyes and sighed before saying, “Star bright, star light.”

“First star I see tonight.” He thought it might not count, as she had not done it before, but it was the thought that counted, right?

She repeated the phrase and her lips curved ever so slightly upwards.

“Wish I may, wish I might,” he continued

“Wish I may, wish I might.”

“Have the wish I wish tonight,” he concluded, opening his eyes and seeing her mouthing the end of the song, nodding almost solemnly. Her eyes fluttered slowly open and landed on him.

Callum heard the rustling of leaves above them, possibly from a squirrel scrutinizing them or a songbird perching on a branch. He thought of all the time they’d have as a couple, especially after their help was not as imperative in the running of Katolis, to just… be happy together. How long had he refrained from letting himself be truly content with his life? And now, being with Rayla, he couldn’t even imagine anything or anyone else for him.

He leaned forward and kissed her ever so gently. Her lips tasted of moonberries, and her violet eyes, almost glowing in the dark, closed as she melted into the kiss and he felt her hand on his scarf, not quite pulling him in but not pushing him either. When they broke apart, he was grinning.

“My wish did come true,” he said, cheekily.

“Mine too,” she replied.

-

Rayla’s footsteps were light and gentle on the soft ground; years of training to be an assassin still ingrained in her every move. Even eight years after meeting who she now knew was the love of her life, there still was a part of her that kind of missed those times when life was so… straightforward. Even so, as she looked back at Callum – now a few inches taller than he’d been when they met, and growing what could only be described as the faintest shadow of a beard – she knew in her bones that that little part of her was wrong.

He looked impressive with his fur overcoat, his immaculately woven violet undershirt (which he claimed matched her eyes) and his leather boots. He had opted not to wear his signature red scarf tonight, which she suspected was just so he could more prominently showcase his facial hair, which he was weirdly proud of.

Callum stood a little ways away from Rayla, looking up at the moon with closed eyes and a sort of… wistful expression on his face. Her mind instantly brought the memory of one of their first dates to this magical clearing in Katolis, where she’d taught him the strange human tradition of wishing upon shooting stars. Moon and Stars, Ethari had burst out laughing when she had told him. Humans were weird.

Now, her weird human was stoically standing with his hands on his hips. She cleared her throat, leaning against a nearby tree. Callum shook his head as though he hadn’t realized she was there, and grinned.

“Hey, sorry, did I space out?” he said.

“Yeah, it was daytime when you stopped there,” she replied, arching an eyebrow.

He snorted and held out his hand, which she gratefully took. “I’m sure it was less than a minute.”

They resumed their stroll down the familiar path, pine needles crunching merrily under Callum’s less graceful steps. She only rolled her eyes in response and lay her head on his shoulder, doing her very best not to impale him with one of her horns, which had also grown considerably as she reached adulthood. She knew humans had a rather short life expectancy; at least shorter than the oldest elves she knew back in Xadia, but at least their early years of development were more or less even.

She wondered in silence just how much of a difference their physiology would make down the road. Would she outlive him by decades? Would the rest of her human friends do the same…? She shook her head and pushed away those thoughts, choosing instead to bask in the moment; being here with Callum was all that mattered.

Eventually, the trees thinned, thick trunks giving way to mere shrubbery as the clearing they’d been seeking opened up in front of them. A beautiful, albeit terrifying lake, loomed ahead of them, its unnervingly calm waters barely rippling in the autumn breeze. She could see the reflection of the stars in it, flashing intermittently like little candles flickering in the night.

Wordlessly, Callum and Rayla kept following the path until they reached their favourite spot: a large boulder, far enough away from the shore that her skin didn’t prickle with anxiety every time a particularly strong current grazed the edges. Callum had attempted to help her through her fear multiple times, but the best he’d ever gotten her to do was get on a boat without getting extremely seasick.

It wasn’t as though sea travel was a major obstacle between the human kingdoms and Xadia. Most if not all the roads to and from her ancestral home were entirely land-based, so she hadn’t had to brave the murderous ocean ever since their stint with Captain Villads, which she still claimed was one of the worst experiences of her life.

“You alright?” she heard Callum say beside her, as they sat atop the boulder and looked out toward the lake. “You look a little pale.”

“Just a little… cold,” she lied, shrugging. It wasn’t a complete lie, of course. The breeze had picked up considerably in the last half hour they’d been walking, but she was pretty used to the cold when living in Katolis.

Ever the gentleman, Callum took off his overcoat and draped it over her shoulders, ignoring her protests. She grinned sheepishly at him and cuddled closer to him, the warmth of the coat enveloping her only slightly more than her closeness to him.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice soft. He moved around for a second before settling in against the rock and wrapping an arm around her.

“Anything for you,” he said. She felt her cheeks heat up, almost childishly. He had complimented her thousands of times over the years, but it still didn’t mean she was used to it.

“Y’know, there was an actual reason I brought us here tonight,” he added after a few minutes of silence.

“Oh?” she said, looking up at him curiously.

“Well, I just wanted to, uh, tell you how much I love you, and how much better you’ve made not only my life, but everyone’s,” he said, clearly fumbling for words, as though he had rehearsed this and did not want to get a single thing wrong. “You’re beautiful and kind, and strong, and…” he trailed off, looking down at her apologetically. “I’m very bad at this.”

She chuckled and sat up straight, facing him as she had all those years ago under a crescent moon. “No, go on,” she said. “I like when you get all flustered.”

“Oh, then this should be a joyride for you,” he said, assuming her same posture. “I just… wanted to show you just how much I love you. Ever since you tried to kill me that night…” He looked at her with a smirk, and it was her turn to flush. “You changed my life, and I wouldn’t trade these last 8 years for the world. You make me feel whole, even in my worst days, or when I’m frustrated by a new spell, or a council meeting gone wrong. You’re always there for me. So…”

He turned slightly to the side and shoved his hand into his pocket, struggling against what she assumed were nerves. She was extremely curious as to where this was going, but her suspicions were rising. Eventually, he pulled out what seemed to be a rather small box. It was violet, like his undershirt and her eyes.

“Rayla,” Callum said, sucking in a breath and looking at her with those big green eyes of his sparkling in the starlight. He opened the small box and Rayla could finally see that it was a silver ring. It was adorned with two tiny amethysts, glinting brightly up at her, flanking what she recognized at once as a Moon Opal. Her breath caught in her throat, tears threatening to break surface with her eyes.

“Will you marry me?” she heard him say, almost hazily; as though in a dream.

She took several long looks at him, then back at the ring, then finally landed on his face, contorted with an awkwardness only Callum could pull off as cute instead of downright constipated. She let out a small laugh and nodded slowly, watching as his emerald green eyes widened, as though he couldn’t quite believe them.

“Yes,” she said softly. “Yes, I’ll marry you, you big dummy.” She launched herself at him and enveloped him in a rather strong hug, tears now flowing freely from her eyes, because who would even judge her for it? After a few seconds – or it might have been an hour – or several moonlit nights – they broke apart. She kissed him deeply and he grabbed the ring from the box, taking her left hand with his own.

“Uh…” he hesitated, looking from her hand to her face. “Which hand do elves wear wedding rings on?”

Rayla couldn’t help but giggle. In any other circumstance, she would have rolled her eyes and playfully punched him in the shoulder. This time, however, she just shrugged. “This one.” She pointed to her fourth finger, smiling.

A little more confidently, he took her hand and gingerly placed the ring on it. She heard him breathe a sigh of relief and chuckled.

“You were really nervous, weren’t ya?” she teased, admiring the ring on her hand. “You knew I was gonna say yes regardless, so why worry?”

“I did, but it still doesn’t make it any less nerve-wracking,” he said, shrugging. “You like it?”

“I love it, it’s beautiful,” she said, leaning in to kiss him again.

They lay back against the boulder, looking up at the sky, their hands clasped and breathing deep. The New Moon stood sentry in the sky, grey and muted against the starry night, yet oddly imposing. She could feel the pull of it in her bones; the characteristic surge of energy that nighttime gave her kind. She pondered this as a thought occurred to her.

“Was that what you were doing before?” she asked tentatively, glancing up at her boyfriend. No, not her boyfriend… her fiancé.

“Yeah, I remembered that time you showed me how you guys wish on the New Moon,” he explained, laying his head on the top of hers. “I guess I wanted to be extra lucky tonight.”

“You’re a dork,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“But I’m your dork,” he retorted.

Yes, he was her dork, and she was his. Forever.

[mattmurdocksscars]

Make It Back

I wasn’t gonna post this, honestly. Was gonna keep it to myself, possibly forever, but I decided against that. Have some angst with a happy ending on this lovely Halloween!

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, Mentions of hallucinations, canon-typical injuries

Summary: When you don’t return from a mission, Poe breaks down. What he doesn’t remember is that you’ll do anything you can to make it back to him.

Ringing. 

All Poe can hear is ringing. That and one sentence on repeat.

"I'm sorry, Poe, she didn't make it back."

He's in his room now but the last thing he remembers before that is being in the hangar and a member of your squadron saying that to him. How did he get here? What… what did he mean you didn't make it back? You always came back…

His door slides open with a schick and Finn steps through, regarding him as if Poe is a wounded animal and it's enough for Poe to know. This isn't a cruel joke or a dream, you're really gone. Tears well and spill over and Poe screams, Finn rushing to his side and pulling the man into his chest. Poe rages and cries and Finn holds him all the while. 

It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to ask you to marry him. He was supposed to live the rest of his life with you, maybe even have kids one day. He was supposed to get to grow old with you.

It's not fair.

----

You come to with a lurch, your body screaming out with pain. Your nostrils are filled with smoke and ash, forcing coughs from your lungs that don’t help with pain. You try desperately to remember how you got here, what was going on, but it takes a few moments for your brain to catch up and fill you in. 

You were flying a mission with your squadron when the First Order had attacked. You had given the order for your team to get out of there and they had all made the jump to lightspeed when your ship had gotten hit. Looking around, you realized you must have managed to make it to the planet that had been nearby before going down. You were just in your seat, so you had to have been ejected from your ship. Based on the smoke to your left, you would guess the rest of it would be that way. With a shaky breath, you start to take stock of your injuries.

There’s shrapnel buried in your left shoulder, you’re fairly certain a couple of your ribs are at the very least cracked, but otherwise it’s just bruises and scrapes. You got out very lucky. With shaky hands, you pull your helmet off and cut yourself free from your harness, stumbling up onto your feet and looking around. 

The planet you’re on is forested and you’ve landed next to a creek. The smoke you can see from what you assume is the wreckage of your ship doesn’t seem to be too far off in the distance so you decide to make the trek to it. If you’re lucky, the emergency supplies will still be intact and you’ll be able to call for help. Pausing long enough to gather up the parachute since it could be helpful later, you then make your way through the woods. 

It’s a long trek, the underbrush hindering your progress, and when you finally get to the clearing your wrecked ship is in, you’re stumbling from the pain. You survey your ship and immediately know there’s no way it’s getting back in the air. One of the wings is ripped clean off and the hull is battered to hell. Thankfully, the ship is only smouldering and no longer on fire, so you’re able to make your way to the cockpit. Rooting around, you manage to locate the emergency kit and with a lot of effort, you haul it out of the ship. As soon as it hits the ground, you sink down next to it and begin going through it.

The first thing you pull out is the medkit. Removing the supplies you need and setting them out in front of you, you take a steadying breath before reaching up, wrapping your fingers around the piece of metal in your shoulder, and pulling it out. You can’t stop the scream that bursts from your chest, throwing the metal away from you as soon as it is out. With shaky hands, you grab a bacta shot and bury the needle into your upper arm, pushing down on the plunger and letting the medicine work through you. Even using the shot instead of the patches, it takes several long minutes before the wound begins to close up. By the time it closes most of the way, you’re woozy from the blood loss and pain. Black creeps along the edges of your vision and it takes everything in you to stave it off. You force yourself to work through it, placing a bacta patch over what’s left of the wound and wrapping it. Once that’s taken care of, you search through the rest of the kit to find the distress beacon and activate it. All that you can do now is wait. 

You make yourself a make-shift shelter with items from the emergency kit, under the remaining vestiges of daylight. You slowly start to feel better as the bacta works its way through your system and by the time you finish setting up camp, you’re able to breathe without pain. Your shoulder is still tender, so you make a sling using a section from the parachute. Crawling into your improvised tent, you settle down to wait.

It takes 4 days before someone lands on the planet, having been alerted by your distress beacon. You’re thankful to discover it’s a crew of rebel sympathizers and they take you in readily, offering to drop you at the nearest inhabited planet. You accept and they drop you off on Corellia. It takes you another 5 days to find a safe ship to take you to the Resistance base and when you finally step foot on the tarmac on Ajan Kloss, you nearly cry in relief. Your first and only thought is to find Poe, wanting the safety of his arms after such a harrowing experience but you barely make it a few feet before you’re being hauled around and into someone’s arms. 

“Red?! You’re alive?!” It’s Rey and her shoulders shake as she sobs against you. Absolutely bewildered, you cautiously put your arms around her.

“Y-Yeah? Am I not supposed to be?” You try to joke with her but your comment just makes her cry harder and you panic. “I was joking, oh stars. I’m sorry. Please stop crying?”

“We- Your squadron said you didn’t make it. We thought…” Rey trails off, pulling away to look at you. Your heart sinks as realization hits you. Of course they thought you were dead. You didn’t return with your squadron and it had been a week and a half now since that mission. 

“Oh, Rey. I’m so sorry for doing that to you guys… There was an ambush and my ship went down. I got back as soon as I could…” You explained and she nodded, pulling you in for another hug.

“I’m just glad you’re alive.” You lean against her for a few moments before you suddenly suck in a sharp breath, yanking yourself back from her and looking at her in panic.

“Poe? Where is he? He thinks… fuck, Rey, where is he?!” Rey’s eyes widen as well and she grabs your hand, pulling you along behind her as the two of you race through the base. She leads you to his quarters but stops you before you go in. 

“Just.. he hasn’t taken it well. Finn’s in there with him. We’ve been having to stay with him in shifts… So just, be ready for that.” She warns you and you nod, feeling a lump rise in your throat at her words. She opens the door and steps in, you following behind her and you survey the scene before you. 

Finn is sitting in the chair at Poe’s desk, looking over a datapad but when he looks up and sees the two of you enter, he stands so quickly that the chair clatters over. He breathes your name, almost as if he’s afraid to say it out loud and crosses the room to crush you into a hug. You accept it but the entire time, your eyes scan over the room as you search for Poe. When you finally catch sight of him, you feel tears well up and spill over.

He’s curled up on the bed, making himself as small as possible with his back to the wall. His eyes are barely open and he’s just staring straight ahead. He’s grown a beard and his curls are disheveled and you’re guessing he hasn’t showered in sometime. But what really breaks your heart is the fact that he’s clutching on to one of your jackets. He’s got it held tight to his chest and every few moments you see his nostrils flare and you realize he’s breathing in your scent. Finn pulls away when he feels you shaking and you look between him and Rey with a heartbroken expression. Finn’s hand comes up to squeeze your shoulder and Rey takes your hand in hers again, squeezing your fingers. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you wipe your face and slowly walk up to Poe and kneel in front of him. His eyes don’t even focus on you, he just keeps staring ahead.

“Poe? Baby, I’m here.” You whisper to him and he finally focuses in on you, but you don’t get the reaction you were expecting. Poe laughs, a bitter sound that echoes in the room.

“Oh, this is just great. Finn, buddy, she’s back! Not that you can see her, but she’s here again.” Horror slips through you as you realize he thinks you’re not real. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?! It’s bad enough that you’re- that you’re-”

A choked sob leaves him and without even thinking you move to console him. You slip a hand into his curls, cupping the back of his head and bringing his forehead to rest against yours. His eyes go wide at the gesture, his mouth falling open and tears starting to slip from his eyes.

“Poe Dameron, I did not just fight to get back to you for you to think I’m not real. I’m here, baby. I’m real.” You tell him, your free hand going to one of his. He fights you at first, but you manage to get one of his hands free and place it against your chest so he can feel your heartbeat. At this, a sob does leave him and he launches himself at you. It sends you both to the ground, Poe wrapping himself around you as you both cry. You’re sure his hands will leave bruises from how hard he’s holding onto you but you are likely going to do the same to him. You're not sure how long the two of you lay there, sobbing together, but Finn and Rey eventually sneak from the room and leave the two of you together. When Poe finally calms enough to speak, his tone is still broken.

"I thought-" He gasps, shuddering against you and burying deeper into you, "I thought- "

"Shhh, Poe. I know. I'm so sorry, baby. But I'm here. I made it back to you. I'll always make it back to you."

Later, you'll help each other clean up and will spend the night wrapped in each other's arms. But for now, you'll lay here and hold him, reassuring him that you did indeed make it back to him.

[arctic-comet]

Osblaineweek2021, Day 2: Prose

I love book quotes. Looking at quotes is one of my favorite ways to to inspire myself to write more fic.

Here’s a small collection of book quotes (and recs!) of where I’ve “found” June and Nick.

This post contains spoilers for the following books/series:

- Lover Mine by JR Ward

- The Wrath and The Dawn duology by Renée Ahdieh

- A Court of Thorns and Roses series by Sarah J. Maas

Lover Mine by J.R. Ward

Summary:

John Matthew has come a long way since he was found living among humans, his vampire nature unknown to himself and to those around him. After he was taken in by the Brotherhood, no one could guess what his true history was- or his true identity. Indeed, the fallen Brother Darius has returned, but with a different face and a very different destiny. As a vicious personal vendetta takes John into the heart of the war, he will need to call up on both who he is now and who he once was in order to face off against evil incarnate. Xhex, a symphath assassin, has long steeled herself against the attraction between her and John Matthew. Having already lost one lover to madness, she will not allow the male of worth to fall prey to the darkness of her twisted life. When fate intervenes, however, the two discover that love, like destiny, is inevitable between soul mates.

It's basically a paranormal love story between two warriors. He's really young (although he's actually a reincarnation of a very old vampire warrior, but he doesn't know that), and she's like 300 years older than him. In this book, she's been raped and abused by a guy who also used to bully him. She escapes, but he saves her life. She's hungry for revenge and wants to die after achieving that goal, but of course eventually changes her mind. In the end he actually serves her rapist to her on a silver platter so that she can kill him (sound like anyone we know?). He literally holds the guy down while she kills him.

They're my ultimate favorite ship in this series, and IMO their relationship eventually develops into one of the strongest ones. This series is a bit of a hit-or-miss for most people, because the language and the writing style are pretty ridiculous in all seriousness. If you decide to read this, I recommend starting the series from the beginning because John and Xhex meet for the first time several books before this one, LOL.

Here are some of the quotes that make me think of Nick and June:

“Besides, the story of the two of them was written in the language of collision; they were ever crashing into each other and ricocheting away—only to find themselves pulled back into another impact.” ― J.R. Ward, Lover Mine

“As his ears rang and his heart broke for her, he stayed strong against the gale force she let loose. After all, there was a reason why here and hear were seperated by so little and sounded one like the other. Bearing witness to her, he heard her and was there for her because that was all you could do during a fall apart. But God, it pained him to see how she suffered.” ― J.R. Ward, Lover Mine

“...the only thing that had tethered her to the earth had been him and it was strange, but she felt welded to him on some core level now. He had seen her at her absolute worst, at her weakest and most insane, and he hadn't looked away. He hadn't judged and he hadn't been burned. It was as if in the heat of her meltdown they had melted together. This was more than emotion. It was a matter of soul.” ― J.R. Ward, Lover Mine

The Wrath and the Dawn duology by Renée Ahdieh

Summary:

One Life to One Dawn. In a land ruled by a murderous boy-king, each dawn brings heartache to a new family. Khalid, the eighteen-year-old Caliph of Khorasan, is a monster. Each night he takes a new bride only to have a silk cord wrapped around her throat come morning. When sixteen-year-old Shahrzad's dearest friend falls victim to Khalid, Shahrzad vows vengeance and volunteers to be his next bride. Shahrzad is determined not only to stay alive, but to end the caliph's reign of terror once and for all. Night after night, Shahrzad beguiles Khalid, weaving stories that enchant, ensuring her survival, though she knows each dawn could be her last. But something she never expected begins to happen: Khalid is nothing like what she'd imagined him to be. This monster is a boy with a tormented heart. Incredibly, Shahrzad finds herself falling in love. How is this possible? It's an unforgivable betrayal. Still, Shahrzad has come to understand all is not as it seems in this palace of marble and stone. She resolves to uncover whatever secrets lurk and, despite her love, be ready to take Khalid's life as retribution for the many lives he's stolen. Can their love survive this world of stories and secrets?

This is a young adult fantasy romance, and basically, Khalid is a lot like Nick. He’s made mistakes that he needs to own, but at the same time he’s forced to commit atrocities he doesn’t want to do. He hates himself and doesn’t believe himself to be worthy of love, and yet he falls in love with Shazi. He's viewed as the villain of the story by everyone aside from Shazi and a few other characters until almost the end of the 2nd book.

“I love you, a thousand times over. And I will never apologize for it.”

―Renee Ahdieh, The Wrath and the Dawn

“It’s a fitting punishment for a monster. to want something so much—to hold it in your arms — and know beyond a doubt you will never deserve it.”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Wrath and the Dawn

“When I was a boy, my mother would tell me that one of the best things in life is the knowledge that our story isn't over yet. Our story may have come to a close, but your story is still yet to be told.

Make it a story worthy of you”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Wrath and the Dawn

“In that moment of perfect balance, she understood. This peace? These worries silenced without effort? It was because they were two parts of a whole. He did not belong to her. And she did not belong to him. It was never about belonging to someone. It was about belonging together.”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Rose & the Dagger

“A boy who'd thrived in the shadows.

Now he had to live in the light.

To live . . . fiercely.

To fight for every breath.”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Rose & the Dagger

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas

Summaries:

Book 1

Feyre's survival rests upon her ability to hunt and kill – the forest where she lives is a cold, bleak place in the long winter months. So when she spots a deer in the forest being pursued by a wolf, she cannot resist fighting it for the flesh. But to do so, she must kill the predator and killing something so precious comes at a price ... Dragged to a magical kingdom for the murder of a faerie, Feyre discovers that her captor, his face obscured by a jewelled mask, is hiding far more than his piercing green eyes would suggest. Feyre's presence at the court is closely guarded, and as she begins to learn why, her feelings for him turn from hostility to passion and the faerie lands become an even more dangerous place. Feyre must fight to break an ancient curse, or she will lose him forever.

Book 2

Feyre survived Amarantha's clutches to return to the Spring Court—but at a steep cost. Though she now has the powers of the High Fae, her heart remains human, and it can't forget the terrible deeds she performed to save Tamlin's people. Nor has Feyre forgotten her bargain with Rhysand, High Lord of the feared Night Court. As Feyre navigates its dark web of politics, passion, and dazzling power, a greater evil looms—and she might be key to stopping it. But only if she can harness her harrowing gifts, heal her fractured soul, and decide how she wishes to shape her future—and the future of a world cleaved in two. With more than a million copies sold of her beloved Throne of Glass series, Sarah J. Maas's masterful storytelling brings this second book in her seductive and action-packed series to new heights.

Fantasy romance with explicit sex scenes, and book 2 is a lot better than book 1. Our main character Feyre falls for a really boring fae guy, but also meets the hottest guy she’s ever known. The first guy of course isn't the real love interest (this is a twist this author loves to do). They all end up as prisoners, and the 2nd guy saves her life when the 1st one is totally useless. He also makes her hate him as he does it because he has to. After getting out, she tries to make her old relationship work, but it doesn’t, and guess who swoops in?

I do see some Nick in Rhysand (in addition to his role in the love triangle). They’re both traumatized and prefer to keep a lot of their feelings to themselves. I also see some of the same selflessness in both of them. Rhysand wants Feyre to choose him because she loves him, but he’s willing to accept that she may not, and doesn’t tell her that they’re pretty much destined to be together (it’s a supernatural thing, and he will suffer a lot if she decides she doesn’t want him).

“Everything I love has always had a tendency to be taken from me.”

―Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“It took me a long while to realize that Rhysand, whether he knew it or not, had effectively kept me from shattering completely.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Regardless of his motives or his methods, Rhysand was keeping me alive. And had done so even before I set foot Under the Mountain.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Because," he went on, his eyes locked with mine, "I didn't want you to fight alone. Or die alone."

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“He thinks he'll be remembered as the villain in the story. But I forgot to tell him that the villain is usually the person who locks up the maiden and throws away the key. He was the one who let me out.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“And I wondered if love was too weak a word for what he felt, what he’d done for me. For what I felt for him.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“I was his and he was mine, and we were the beginning and middle and end. We were a song that had been sung from the very first ember of light in the world.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

[firemanwhenthefloodsrollback]

Who Saved The Day? Season 5

It's been a long time but I am back with the fifth installment of Who Saved The Day? I'll be looking at every episode of buffy the vampire slayer to see who saved the day the most and in what ways. we're heading into the darkest and most complex end of the series and the number two spot is still very much up for grabs. it's getting harder and harder with time to tell who wins the point in each individual episode, and I don't think it's gonna get any easier from here friends.

At the end of season four we left it at:

Buffy: 43

Angel: 5

Giles: 5

Willow: 4

Anya: 2

Faith: 2

Oz: 2

Xander: 2

Other people who only got 1 each: 8

So season 5:

1. Buffy Vs Dracula: Buffy

Nice and straightforward. You kill Dracula twice, you get a point.

2. Real Me: Buffy

Buffy saves Dawn. Good work.

3. The Replacement: Willow

Buffy did avert the violence and stop the two Xanders from escalating things to a nasty place, so I'll hear arguments for that, but Willow actually fixed the situation and put the two Xanders back so I think she was the one who saved the day.

4. Out Of My Mind: Buffy

I really went back and forth on whether it was Buffy or the doctor here. The doctor actually solved the thing that was wrong so a big part of me thinks it was the doctor who did the procedure on Riley, but Buffy won the fight and dealt with Spike and Harmony so.... Buffy.

5. No Place Like Home: Buffy

Another 'nobody won' episode really. I don't know how to choose someone who saved the day here when... the day ended pretty badly. It was either the Monk for giving Buffy the info about Dawn before he died, or Buffy for getting herself and the Monk out of the magic box. I couldn't decide but thought that saving lives had to count as saving the day right?

6. Family: Buffy

My heart aches when I think about Family, seriously. I considered giving the point to Spike because he solved the demon thing, which exposed the Maclays and put the whole business to rest, but Buffy saying she wasn't going to let Tara be taken was more of a 'saving the day' action I think?

7. Fool For Love: Spike

I'm not certain who the day was really saved from here. Yes Riley killed some vampires but I don't think they were the main threat so killing them was more of a fun side project for Riley. I don't think we can really say Spike was the villain? At least for most of the episode. Putting this episode in its big existential context I think by giving Buffy the stories of the two past slayers and his actually fairly true (and useful for the rest of the season) insight into the slayers we can make a solid case for Spike saving the day. Am I biased in his favour? Absolutely, but it's my list! Spike's first point!

8. Shadow: Buffy

Buffy dealt with the snake and with so many other things.

9. Listening To Fear: Buffy

Dawn very much did save Joyce the first time, so there's an argument that she saved the day, but Buffy actually stabbed the thing. So Buffy.

10. Into The Woods: Buffy

Buffy (?) She certainly killed some vampires.

11. Triangle: Willow

Buffy does a lot of pummelling but Willow sends the troll away, which I would call solving the problem at its root.

12. Checkpoint: Buffy

Good speech babe, and well done for getting Giles his retroactive pay checks.

13. Blood Ties: Willow

I'm giving it to Willow and Tara here because they did the spell that transported Glory, and while Buffy's speech to Dawn was far more emotionally significant, the spell was what actually helped. I really want to give Tara a point - my beautiful girl who awoke so much of my soul deserves more than one - but Willow passing out from doing the spell implies to me that she was contributing more magical energy. If you can convince me in the replies that Tara deserves this point I will very, very gladly transfer it to her.

14. Crush: Spike (?)

I'm not happy about this one either. Much though I love him. But we've had episodes before where the person who causes the problem solves the problem and I've been strict with myself in the past about the person who saves the day only ever getting to be the person who actually does the one action that removes the biggest immediate danger. That danger was Drusilla and Spike got her off Buffy sooooooooo maybe I picked stupid rules.

15. I Was Made To Love You: Buffy

Out of every single episode of this show, this is the one where the day is the least saved. It's impossible to look at the ending of this episode and think of anything being okay. But Buffy stops April hurting anyone so, I guess.

16. The Body: Buffy

I'm a huge fan of the fact there was a vampire in this episode, keeping an element of the supernatural in the least supernatural episode this show ever did. It's one of the best decisions this script made to have a single, newborn, not very powerful vampire become a meaningful threat again in a way it hasn't been since very early season one, because the audience really believes that buffy could have been vulnerable to this when she's knocked sideways by grief and it feels menacing in a way that enormous tentacle demons never do. if we define this vampire as the threat in this episode, which it isn't really but it's the closest we've got, then it's buffy again.

17. Forever: Dawn

Dawn's first point. Go dawn, a heart-wrenching first point in a truly harrowing episode. Another example of the person who caused the problem solving the problem but we must be consistent here.

18. Intervention: Spike

This one hurts my heart. Spike's first uncontroversial point, I'd say.

19. Tough Love: Tara

I was originally going to give this point to Willow for getting her and Buffy out of the fight with Glory at the end, but I decided the bigger threat in this episode was Glory offering Tara the bargain where she could give the key up in exchange for her own safety. Tara making such a simple clear moral choice, even when she's terrified, even when she knows Glory could do anything for her, and she isn't even in a good place with Willow, is the bravest thing in this episode and no one else can possibly deserve this point.

20. Spiral: Ben

Not a good episode for day-saving. Ben did a lot more harm than good here but he got Giles' wound stabilised and no one else... saved the day. I'm not really happy about this one so please argue with me.

21. The Weight of the World: Willow

One of my favourite non-combat savings of the day. Willow going into Buffy's mind and convincing her to keep trying to save the world is one of the most interesting and significant day-savings Willow gets in one of my favourite episodes for Willow and Buffy's relationship.

22. The Gift: Buffy

There just aren't any arguments here. She saved the world. A lot.

So at the end of season five we're still very heavily biased in favour of Buffy saving the day, which I don't think is ever likely to go away, but getting more and more episodes where it isn't her with time. New appearances for a lot of the scoobies here and spike is climbing the ranks fast.

At the end of season 5 we are at:

Buffy: 54

Willow: 7

Angel and Giles: 5

Spike: 3

Anya, Faith, Oz, Tara, Xander: 2

And 9 characters including Dawn who have 1 each

Season 6 is my favourite season and also the bleakest, darkest and strangest so I am excited to see what happens to the leaderboard there.

[sinsofazeroth]

Surreal (os.) | a Black Clover story

WARNING; this story contains heavy themes such as death, graphic injury, murder and blood. Please do not read this if these topics make you uncomfortable.

The kingdom lay dark. A thick fog had made its home across the usually vast greens of Clover, swallowing anything and everything in its path. Trees, fields, crops and alike all seemed to have fallen into a deep, grey and cold slumber.

From further afar a church bell rang as a young Magic Knight made his way through the harrowing cold. That day was a day to be forever ingrained into the memory of Clover Kingdom. It was the day the Wizard King was lost. Permanently.

Julius Novachrono, 28th Wizard King of Clover Kingdom, was dead. Murdered by an unknown party. Brutally ripped from the people once again. But this time there was no saving grace. No going back. No replay button. The hooded youth, Asta, silently dragged himself across the path. His eyes red and adorned by thick, dark rings, his face sunken and ill. The boy had lost all life that was left inside of him. And yet again, this time, there was no return. He hadn’t slept nor eaten for days. After the news had reached he immediately left the Black Bulls hideout in an unusual frenzy, presumably to make sure if the news were once again a ruse or not. But alas, there was no ruse. It was all real. Having lost his goal and great role model, Asta decided to seclude himself from everything and everyone. It was an unbearable punch to the gut. He felt... nothing. Freezing emptiness engulfed him. Not many thoughts came to visit his usually bright and positive mind. All he could do is move away. He didn’t even know where he was or where he was heading. He didn’t care. It was over.

Or so he thought.

In the normally bustling and lively capital of Clover, silence had taken over. Empty streets, abandoned shops and stalls, stray animals making haste through the alleyways.

Lost in thought Yuno made his way through the eerie ghost town. He had been pondering non-stop since the Wizard King was killed. Who did it? And why? How? Questions over questions he couldn’t share with anyone but himself and Bell. Though even she had become quiet over time. The squads were understandably distraught. The captains had called an emergency meeting, but it just ended in arguing and indecisiveness. Yuno was able to keep a cool head, apart from most others in the kingdom at this time. Still, he was being haunted by the burning questions of Julius’ strange demise. But his train of thought was quickly interrupted by a strange shape in an alley next to him. Step by step he closed in on the strange hunched over figure... his eyes widened.

The Black Bulls’ hideout was unusually quiet. Most of the residents were still in shock, not knowing what to do next. Even their captain seemed to be at a loss. Captain Yami, who was usually always aloof and neutral towards any situation, stood on a window and looked outside in silence while smoking a cigarette. His thoughts were going in many directions at once. His head was anything but silent, constantly replaying the dread he felt at the news. It had felt like his stomach was tied into a sturdy knot, his throat held shut and his tongue nailed to the floor of his mouth. No matter how hard he tried, it had been impossible to let out a single sound. After a few hours had passed, he still hadn’t said much, except for a few cynical comments at the recent captain’s meeting. Everyone was worried about Asta, but nobody had the strength and resolve to look for him at this time. They were all hoping for this nightmare to end soon.

Yuno inched closer to the odd shape. Suddenly, a faint ray of sunlight cleared his vision. His eyes widened. His breath grew sharp. There, slumped against the wall in front of him, was his captain. The captain of the Golden Dawn, William Vangeance. Two large slashes on his chest, barely exposing flesh straight to the bone. Fresh blood dripped out of the eccentric mask. The feathers torn and ruffled. A large crack over the left side. Yuno felt his knees giving in. He fell to the ground, barely able to catch himself from crashing into the hard, cold stone below him. His stomach turned. Tears obstructed his vision. He hunched over and threw up, his mind being unable to fully comprehend the current situation. Yuno covered his mouth and swallowed a scream of pure terror and despair as he felt someone walk up behind him. He turned his head to see who it was.

“Why?”

The news of two more murders spread quickly. Public uproar, an ever increasing demand for answers, protests. Most of the royals had already left the kingdom in fear. The only one to remain was Damnatio Kira, the man who probably shouldered the most responsibility in this case. He needed answers. For not just the people, but also himself. Evidence ran scarce since witnesses were either quickly killed off or non-existent in the first place. All they had was the nature of the deaths. And they didn’t add up. Damnatio quickly came to the conclusion that the Wizard King’s death and the other murders weren’t connected. Julius Novachrono’s death was ruled as an attack, while the Golden Dawn murders were, in his eyes, a straight up slaughter. An act of passion and rage. Damnatio had pondered the possibility of going out himself to search for clues, yet he was probably the most important person in the kingdom right now. If he was to die, it was surely game over for good. So he continued thinking and hoping. Hoping to stay alive long enough to solve the case. And to allow the victims to rest in peace.

In the outskirts of Clover ruled a particular ravage. The captain of the Crimson Lion Kings, Fuegoleon Vermillion, and his sister, Mereoleona Vermillion, had entwined each other in a ruthless battle. Both distraught and unsure of what to do couldn’t take the immense pressure of responsibility and sudden loss of two valued colleagues. Pained roars echoed through the nearby forests and hills, scorching flames laid waste to the surrounding land. It was a fight not out of hate, but out of desperation. Out of desire to soothe the pain gnawing at their very bones. It was to be a fight to the bitter end. The end that came very soon. Exchanging blows, tirelessly and savagely, flames growing hotter and hotter. The intent to kill was now no longer hidden. There was not much left of respect or emotion, only sheer bloodlust. Blow after blow, flame after flame, yell after yell. Two savage lions battling for nothing but pride. A towering wall of fire - a shock wave that could lay waste to an entire forest - silence. Two battered, torn up bodies finally falling. What was once a blooming field was now a gruesome scene, charred, barren and bloody. Eerie silence engulfed the land once again. The last flame has been cast. The lions have fallen at last.

Back in the capital the Silva estate was in not much different shape as the rest of the city. Most servants had ran away, along with both Solid and Nebra. Only Nozel remained in the now empty halls. “Cowards.” he muttered. “I’ll crush the culprit with my own hands. This kingdom will not fall!” Suddenly there was a thumping sound coming from a room further down the hall. Determined, Nozel braced himself and made way down the hallway. His mind was racing; is it going to be the culprit? If not, didn’t everyone already leave? His resolve started to waver as he reached the door the sound had come from just a minute ago. A shaky hand reached for the handle. Sweat started to form on Nozel’s brow. He bit the inside of his mouth and turned the handle. Slowly he opened the door. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight he was about to witness.

“You.”

Damnatio Kira was at his wit’s end. The bodies of the entire Silva household had been found in the servants’ quarters. Most of them were savagely beaten with a blunt object. A few of them were lacking limbs. It was a scene too gruesome to even imagine. Head in his hands, Damnatio sat on his desk in silence. How was such a thing even possible? Why couldn’t he stop it? Doubt began to rise within him. Filled with rage and desperation he slammed a fist onto the table, almost cracking it. Blood seeped out from where his fist made contact with the hard wood. As he watched the blood slowly drip down the side of his hand, he made a decision. Damnatio grabbed his hooded coat, flung it over his shoulders and slammed the door shut behind him.

The outside was still dark, damp and empty. With determined steps Damnatio made his way through the hollow capital. After a while he finally arrived at his destination - the Black Bulls’ hideout. With cold hands he knocked on the front door. No answer. He tried again. Still nothing. He gritted his teeth and kicked open the heavy wooden doors. The hardwood floor was littered with tattered paper and blood. Unfazed Damnatio’s eyes wandered across the otherwise empty room. He stepped inside and found a note neatly placed on top of a table. Carefully he picked it up, still scanning his surroundings for any survivors or potential threats. And there, a surge of mana from the backroom. Tensing his shoulders Damnatio slowly started walking towards the slightly opened door. As he opened it, he spotted a figure cowering on the floor right behind it. “...member of the Black Bulls” Damnatio started with an empty, cold voice; “Finral Roulacase.”

Finral sat there, hunched over, quiet sobs escaping his fragile looking figure. Damnatio carefully inched closer and reached out a hand towards the boy. “They’re all... the captain... I-” Finral’s shaky voice hardly reached Damnatio’s ears. “They... everyone is... I didn’t know that...” the young knight swallowed and looked up. “They were fighting so much... and now they’re gone. I don’t know where they went. I don’t know...” Damnatio sighed and turned on his heel, preparing to leave. But then he felt a tug on his coat. He turned his head and saw Finral holding onto him, tears rolling down the youth’s face. “Please don’t leave me here... please...” The desperation in the young man’s voice shook the usually unfazed noble to his very core. He sighed and nodded, allowing the spatial mage to accompany him. Maybe some company would ease his own mind a bit.

As the two men walked out of the grim manor, Damnatio turned his head toward the eerie, pitch black forest and felt an ice cold chill run down his spine. There, just outside the base, hidden amongst brushes and leaves, lay shallow graves adorned with wooden crosses, each having a name of one member of the Black Bulls written onto them. So that’s where they had gone... It seemed as if Finral hadn’t noticed. And Damnatio figured it would be better to leave it this way. Quickly he returned his gaze toward the path in front of them and asked Finral if he could use his magic to get them back to the capital, as they’d be vulnerable if they were to be attacked then and there.

Days had passed and the murders seemed to have ceased - at least no more bodies had been found. The rest of the squads had evacuated, or were long dead already. After many sleepless nights Damnatio Kira sat in his office in front of a cup of coffee that had gone cold hours ago. Despite his best efforts, the kingdom had finally succumbed to despair. Only few commoners had remained, there was no information on the peasants from the boonies. The two leading noble houses were murdered and the rest of the squads were nowhere to be found. The other kingdoms had also cut all connections to Clover in fear of the murders spreading across the lands. Damnatio opened his office window and leaned onto the windowsill. The air was still cold and empty. Only the faint smell of blood came from the alleys below. The remaining citizens had all but gone insane. Damnatio wondered how he himself stayed safe all this time. Even Finral was got not long after he brought him back into the city. The screeching of crows was ever adamant. Now he was certain; this was the end of the kingdom. He thought back to the days of criticising the Wizard King and his friends and followers, furrowing his brow at the disgust and sadness he felt towards his own actions. Now there was nothing left... only a sad shell of what once was a bustling region full of life and laughs. Damnatio took a deep breath as he noticed a shadow looming above him. But as he looked up, nothing seemed to be there.

The man shook his head and turned back towards his desk... or at least he wanted to. A sharp pain rose through his back all the way into his chest. Blood dripped onto the floor. A large blade was pulled back. Damnatio Kira collapsed in front of the window. His eyes widened in disbelief. His vision was blurry but he knew exactly what he saw... or rather, who he saw. Despite of the pain he found himself in, Damnatio smiled. His left hand held onto the note he had found at the Bulls’ hideout.

“heh... heheh... I knew it...”

Asta stood above him, holding Black Divider firmly in his hand. He was in his Devil Union form, but his eyes had long lost all life. His tired, sunken face had but one expression any more; harsh, cold ignorance. The Wizard King’s death had driven the boy over the edge. An edge that had always been closely reached, but now the monster was finally born. He believed by killing those who knew the Wizard King well enough he’d set their pained souls free; all the while nurturing his own twisted desire for revenge. They had either wronged him or stood in his way of disposing of those who did. He made no exceptions any more. Once again Asta raised his sword above his head;

And swung down.

[fishmongeringstudies]

nine: the tender machine kindness of daily routines and actions whose net worth comes not from their immediately visible impacts but the way your hands learn to steady themselves in the warm flickering light of morning, years after the candles and the ouija board have been put away

being a college student means having to face up to big, harrowing decisions every day such as should i drop this shirt on the floor after i take it off or walk the extra two and a half meters to my laundry hamper? most of the time i opt for the former, although the peculiar thing about leaving stuff on the floor is that the ratio of stuff to floor gradually inverts itself like a body turned inside-out to reveal the soft, fleshy inside until there is no more floor and altogether too much stuff. at that point, there are no more decisions to make. either you pick up all those shirts or make the walk to breakfast in the nude. given that the dining hall is known to be unenthusiastic about the smallest of transgressions like bare feet and people without skin, i doubt they would let me in. unless i seduced them. but it is hard to seduce a building.

the dining hall in this college is named after yet another rich alumnus who, fearing that they would be forgotten when they died and fade away into obscurity, therefore experiencing a second, more significant death, decided to assert dominance over one of the key facilities for survival at their alma mater. the building is short, squat, and emits a faint glow like a convenience store glimpsed from afar at four o'clock in the morning. upon entering the first set of swinging doors, one finds oneself greeted with two more sets of doors and a choice of one or the other. the left door will take you past an office. the right will take you past two more doors. one of them leads to the bathroom. the other leads to hell.

the dining hall appears to have been built on some kind of slope, because once you get past the first door and the second and pass through the gates of reckoning, the path splits again into two rather grand staircases of significant width and height, which lead you some two storeys down to a square-shaped room with a big fireplace perched at one end. it dawns on you then that this, this place hidden under the great yawning jaw of heaven, is the real dining hall. you squint at your surroundings in mild disbelief while awkwardly fingering your phone in your pocket so that the other person waiting in line doesn't strike up a conversation. the path outside looks flat as fuck and yet the stairs seemed to go on forever. the only conclusion: this building is cursed.

other things that are cursed: unripe bananas, misplaced sympathies, birds with teeth. liberal arts colleges. sad novels. people who end all their text messages with a full stop. the last one is a lie.

wow liberal arts colleges are really cursed though. i know what you're thinking. not this again, you moan in an extremely non-sexual way, dragging the heel of your palm down your face. not him again. i am tired of him, you complain. excellent. this makes two of us. but one cannot put something away until you are sure of all its contents. and even now, days and weeks and months later, i'll be brushing my teeth and admiring my reflection in the mirror when i'll find myself abruptly subjected to the blunt force trauma that is delayed realization. memories are like mille feuilles. a lot of effort to make and a lot of effort to get rid of. and if you take the lazy way out, slicing your knife perpendicular to this delicate, thousand-layered monstrosity, you are bound to miss something crucial.

question: have you missed anything this semester? what have you overlooked; what have you let slip you by? look over your shoulder. do it right now. perhaps you will discover the ghost of your deceased great-grandmother, trying to whisper to you her beloved recipe for tang yuan. take everything she says down. you will need it one day. i promise.

these days i'm not scared of anything in my head anymore. that's the nice thing about having fear manifest itself as a thing with skin and some internal organs (at least i assume he has them. to be honest you could tell me he has half a kidney in there and nothing else and i'd be like yes that makes sense, of course you're right) that moves and walks and talks like a person but otherwise has the cognitive capabilities of a chair. it's like playing an rpg horror survival game. only the antagonist isn't hot.

i am though. and so is summer, sweet sticky-skin summer, though i woke up today and it felt like february all over again. it was eight degrees celcius in the morning; eleven in the afternoon. now it is nine. so this is how it is when one is thousands of miles from the equator. one step forward, two steps back. take ten steps in a rough circle and then four steps to the left. tango with me. chase cars with me. we can chase cars all day. i'll wear your shirt and you'll eat mine.

this semester the salsa club held its weekly meetings on friday at 8:45 in the lounge attached to the dorm i lived in. on one such friday i was playing pool in the adjacent room with someone i don't talk to anymore and another i wish i still did but never seemed to find in the same room as myself. it was my first time playing pool. the stick reminded me of sun wu kong, the monkey king and his magical monkey king staff. or was it a stick? the details escape me. the evening escapes me, too. i know at one point one of them left to join the salsa club. i know at some point i cleared the table.

it must have been the third or fourth week of the semester when they convinced me to play pool, because i said yes without thinking the way i never had before that and never will again. back then i was still scared and lonely and to be fair, i was scared and lonely for half of april and most of may, but these are fundamentally different sentiments. back then i was scared of everything. these days i am acquainted with a more academic, nuanced fear; persistent laughter, 500-word moodle short responses sent over text, fists.

the first time i did laundry in the spring i googled "[my college name] laundry machines" because i had to be sure that the laundry machines in this specific basement in this specific college weren't super fucked-up for some reason and i was terrified that they would be and that i'd fuck up even the laundry, dear god, if i couldn't do the laundry then what was the point of trying to do friendship? i threw everything in the washing machine at five o'clock in the morning and dragged it across the white-tiled floor to the dryer at five-thirty. at five-fifty i texted good evening to a friend. at six-twenty-seven i washed my chopsticks.

at six thirty-five i stood in front of my dresser in my room with a freshly-laundered shirt pressed against my face and a spill of sunlight sliding down the left side of my body. i breathed in. the fabric smelled like flowers. like it'd emerged from the cycle of reincarnation, pure and dumb as a baby. i breathed in again. my hands and cheeks were warm. the birds outside my window were screaming in french. in that moment i found that i believed, for the first time since i'd gotten here, in the transient nature of all things. even sadness. even the sneaking feeling that i would never settle into this room with its shitty ceiling light, which turned out to be true, which was paranoia later justified by truth. even you.

then i folded it up carefully, and put it away.

05.29.21

[sugar-petals]

Can u introduce yuzuru to us the caro way?👀

so you want to know about the one and only. ♡😌

yuzuru hanyū (25) of sendai, japan: the most beautiful ice prince with a heart of gold.

….an artist clearly not of this world, he’s been sent to us from another realm. 19 world records, two olympics won, dubbed the greatest figure skater of all time. and the most precious bean on top of that.

but let’s start from the beginning, shall we ♥︎

so, want to spot yuzu on the ice? use this checklist. slender silhouette, an even slimmer waist, feather-like outfits (he sketches those himself; the fandom lovingly calls him swanyu), soft blushy face. he has great androgyny.

outside of performances, you see him either with a deer’s gaze or the brightest, biggest eye smile. also, he’s usually found sitting with his wife: 

which is the ice 😄 these two are together forever. you can discern yuzu from a mile away by how he treats his working ground. 

there is a purity to him. you’d not guess that this is one of the most ardent athletes if you didn’t see what’s around his neck after competitions. the guy’s cuteness is as compelling as his skating technique.

look for it: yuzu’s face is super suave and rosy up close, even after his most energetic performances. some men are handsome, others pretty, he is both. 

even acoustically, he’s hard to miss. applause is all around, and he’s highly expressive. if you see a crying young man getting the high score, that’s yuzuru hanyu. you’ve not seen more beautiful happy tears.

and score reactions, anyway:

so, aye loves, the rumors are true. a cutie-pie off the ice, animated, a real unabashed meme — yuzu is easy-going, talkative. cheery, cheeky, one of a kind. his facial expressions are a league of their own.

if you thought this is the sort of guy who watches cat videos, you are correct 😄

yuz-uwu hanyu, everybody:

his undoubtedly feline behaviour is often unexpected, it stands out with its adorableness, too. a sweetheart par excellence. 

and, how else could it be: vice versa, the big beast on the rink. he’s cutesy, dorky, very well-spoken in daily life, but when it comes to skating, his seriousness escalates. you blink once and suddenly hanyu is a bedazzling, strutting lion :’D his performances stun with confident elegance.

he becomes full of ardor, drama, and focus. you’d never suspect so much fire burns in him. a showman and ambition icon, hands down. 

his skating is dynamic, perfected, and emotional. if you want to see art and the extra mile, tune in when hanyu competes.

the downside is; more light, more shadow. it leaves him crawling on the ice afterwards. yuzu performs so hard, it’s worrying.

he delivers it all. you won’t believe it:

this guy is an asthmatic.

the symptoms aren’t as bad as they used to be, but there are still regular attacks. he said that he’ll never take it as an excuse and often recalls how he started skating because of it. he’s a badass, extremely inspiring. yuzuru defies all limits, including gravity. his jumps have legendary status. 

off the rink, you guessed it: he turns into a wholly different person. 

it all dissolves completely when he’s dorking around again. 

don’t let it deceive you, he’s the no other option than first place type. he could not be any more decorated with titles, he achieved the grand slam in all competitions as of 2020. and still, king of sportsmanship hanyu is respectful and smiley towards all colleagues and never lets anyone feel left out. especially when it comes to his juniors (e.g. yuma kagiyama, 16, below) which says a lot about him.

he bows in every direction before an audience, too. lower than a 90° angle, even. this is more polite than any existing formality in japan.

talk about audience: i introduced fellow japanese skater shoma uno last week, who’s more uncomfortable with social contact and aggression. yuzu, extrovert he is: the exact opposite. he withers away with no people and competition. he’s befriended rivals, had crises over not having someone who could challenge him. when a competitor retires, he’s the one crying in their arms (e.g. with team mate and bff javier fernandez from spain below).

beside his competitive spirit and princely wow factor, hanyu is popular for his winnie pooh tissue box that he caresses, squeezes, and carries everywhere. he loves good luck charms & rituals, pooh is the most important one.

fans throw pooh plushies on the ice after his performances because of it. since it’s gotten so intense, yuzu recently started cleaning them up himself on top of the flower girls for the upcoming skater who could get delayed otherwise. (more about what happens with the piles of plushies later.)

so, the burning question is. 

what made yuzuru hanyu emerge so outstanding an entertainer? how does someone causing so much uproar become like that? it’s not just what kind of appearance he was given, although he really looks his part to a T. you don’t have to be an insider to see it right away.

like literally to a fault. and you can tell the way his blades sound on the ice is different. it’s soft even if he does the most hardcore quadruple jumps. i think it’s because his drive to do this is a higher one, hanyu has an altered relationship with the ice. where his devotion comes from has a more severe reason so, massive trigger warning. 

this is no exaggeration: yuzuru is considered a hero to the japanese. a survivor of the earthquake 2011, he narrowly escaped the collapsing rink in his hometown on that very day. he’s often talked about how the ice shattered underneath his feet and it was the moment that defined his life forever. he could have been dead by the age of 16. his motivation has been set ever since. this man is compelled by something bigger, that’s why you hear it and you feel it. he wants to skate not just for himself but others and seize every day. 

much of his copious charity work — that’s where all the pooh plushies go — went to mend the consequences of the tsunami ever since, he’s looked upon as a great hope in japan. the minister gave him the people’s honor award in 2018. 

now you know why yuzuru has such a fanbase and treats the ice as sacred, you see it in every gesture. his manners are without a single flaw, he helps staff repair the ice after performances. 

you might think it’s odd, but he honors the ground. he’s invested in the integrity of it. that’s why he’s the best skater. it’s gratitude and the will to live fully.

he hates to fall on the ice, he hates to damage it. alongside his feathery weight, that’s why the sound he makes while gliding along is so tender. 

i think that’s also why hanyu’s signature element is the ina bauer. it doesn’t rely on brutal force, instead this element slides across the rink like a swan. yeah, oh my god.

it’s his most well-known dramatic move. the way he surrenders into it. 

hanyu’s back arch and perfect split allow him to do elements no other male skaters can. his biellmann spin, for instance. i know, it’s ridiculous.

and those are just two elements of dozens and dozens. hanyu is a kinetic wizard. i highly rec this record-breaking delivery of his olympic program. in front of his home crowd! he’s just… mind-boggling. i live for his smiles here.

exceptional skater, exceptional mentor: it’s time we look at another puzzle piece that made yuzu the way he is. the masterful brian orser is hanyu’s beloved coach. missing gold by just one mistake at the olympics 1988, brian is now committed to give others what he couldn’t have— successfully so.

orser took the ice prince to gold twice, this hasn’t happened in 66 years. brian is the nicest and most supportive pooh carrier and yuzu’s utmost rock. hanyu’s talent rests safely in these hands.

he gets strict about punctuality lmao! but other than that, his guidance is gentle. canadian he is, brian’s courteousness mixes well with yuzu’s politeness. their bond is strong. as. hell. 

brian picked up yuzu from rock bottom several times. most fateful being hanyu’s accident with a fellow skater during competition warm-ups nov 2014. they collided at a high speed, it was unspeakably nasty. yuzu got knocked out for half a minute and had grave breathing problems but still decided to skate on with what later turned out as an almost-concussion. brian was the most worried ice dad in the world that day.

yuzu cried and crouched and bled like mad and my heart has been broken ever since. i hope he never suffers like that again. promise me you don’t search up the video, it’s a harrowing watch like a stab to the chest. sadly enough, hanyu’s body has still been a notorious wreck, esp. ankle issues regularly give him a hard time 😔

it hurts like a bitch with every jump landing but he takes meds and still manages to win, god knows how. sometimes even with crutches on the podium. at his worst, he’s still the best, it’s a tragedy.

he’s been recovering, or always is, but he pushes himself through injuries. his ambition and perfectionism are boundless. the cause is more important to him than his well-being. this is not an easy guy to stan once you see how he sacrifices and self-destructs. so, it’s good someone protects him. 

mostly from himself because nobody has profoundly surpassed hanyu. he has let himself no choice than to contest himself. not even health, only age can stop yuzu. i think that brian understands this ‘curse of a genius’ effect. his mere presence can make hanyu say these rare words:

his two other coaches contribute to that. tracy wilson (left) has proven to understand his playful side the best while ghislain briand (right) helps yuzuru deal with his fears. so you got 3 people taking care of the golden boy. brian once said: “he is very sheltered” and you can see it’s true.

yuzu eased into learning english and communicates well with his coaches. like with everything, he studies hard and often forces himself to speak during interviews to practice. his skills are astounding. his speaking voice is also very soothing, very amicably low and high alike. yuzu is highly intelligent. he always says something eloquent and interesting.

now, privately, hanyu is very much like you’d expect someone so devoted to skating would be like. he doesn’t go out, has no social media, can’t eat nor sleep very well. no cameras allowed during practice. it figures he is attached to winnie pooh, think about it. in the cartoon, pooh is someone who sleeps, eats, and engages with friends plenty. 

these are the things hanyu can’t do, doesn’t have time/energy/incentive for. he is barred from balance in life but can at least admire this little carefree plushie for it. especially because pooh represents eating lots while yuzuru doesn’t have a good relationship with food (he says it doesn’t go well with jumps etc.), hanyu lives vicariously through him. 

what’s more, you have to see how he throws himself onto others and never wants to let go, yuzuru is extremely cuddly. 

to the degree that mere social customs can’t meet how much he really needs. so, what else can he resort to, he loves mascots and plushies. it’s how the tale goes in japan generally, tough work ethic, high responsibility, high pressure, so people turn to cute fluffy things.

he always fondles pooh’s head, even pretends he’s come to life so he has someone to snuggle with. i think that his isolated lifestyle doesn’t help. so, he gets his affection at least there, you can see how happy it makes him. and again: he does this all for charity.

that’s why fellow skaters are so important to hanyu. it really brings out his social spirit and comforts him best, it’s so wholesome. i’ve not seen someone react so relieved to being embraced, like he’s not been touched for months. skating this, skating that. at the end of the day, hanyu wants love.

as he once said, what motivates him is to express himself in the first place. hanyu is a romantic. it’s written all over him. it reflects in his music choices, his elegant motion, how he designs his outfits:

… and how thoughtfully he talks about marriage. he has big plans for starting a family and coaching after he retires. i won’t be the only one squeezing lucky charm pooh in my imagination so it turns out well for him. please make this heart of gold heal and see all his wishes come true ♡🐻

[minuteminx]

Revolutionary

Pairing: Preston Garvey/ Female Sole Survivor

Summary: In the aftermath of personal tragedies, Preston and Charlie both seek to make a difference in the Commonwealth and those around them. They could never anticipate the impact that they will have on eachother in the process.

Chapter Four: Sole Survivor

Chapter Summary:   Charlie tells Preston a long story. 

[First Chapter]

[Previous Chapter]

[AO3 Link]

“A bridge of silver wings stretches from the dead ashes of an unforgiving nightmare to the jeweled vision of a life started anew.”

― Aberjhani, Journey through the Power of the Rainbow: Quotations from a Life Made Out of Poetry

Sanctuary  Hills, October 2287

The trek out of Concord, and up the road to a place called Sanctuary Hills was largely silent and uneventful. Preston took point, and Charlie offered to hang back in case there were any straggling raiders who decided to follow. He wasn’t so sure that she was in any condition to watch the rear, but he wasn’t about to argue with the woman who’d just turned a deathclaw inside out. It was more than alarming to see the bloody massacre Charlie’s tangle with the deathclaw had caused up close and personal as they passed by. He was just glad she’d survived, and that he didn’t have to fight the damn thing.

On the way to their hopeful home, Sturges spotted a largely intact Red Rocket on the side of the road, stacked with old tires and filled with useless junk that Sturges would scrape up a use for. Jun and Marcy walked together in somber silence and Mama Murphy hobbled along in the back, arm looped through Charlie’s, whose open hand gripped a 10mm so tightly her knuckles turned white. She had a hell of a poker face, he’d give her that much.

Nearing the old neighborhood, a statue of a lone guardian stood tall, musket in hand, holding his centuries-old post at the bridge where the American Revolution began. It was almost like some weird omen, Preston thought, observing the Minuteman and then the bridge. Maybe Mama’s visions had some truth to them after all. He did not realize he’d mused out loud until Sturges’ hand clapped him on the back.

“I don’t know what the heck you’re talkin’ about boss, but I’m glad you’re happy.”

Preston laughed. “Thanks, man.”

Crossing Old North Bridge into their hopeful home seemed monumental, the group propelled forward by the potential of a place to finally rest. There were more than a handful of homes that still had enough structural integrity to be tidied and boarded up for use as shelters. It was bittersweet to see the remnants of picket fences, lawn furniture, and pink, plastic birds that dotted the landscape. Skeletons of old cars littered spots where garages might have been. Preston imagined what the area might have been like back before the war, pictured neighbors talking to one another from their yards, children playing together in the streets. It was a way of life he knew he’d never get to have.

Before long, Preston had done a sweep of the entire cul de sac, making sure there wasn’t anything dangerous lurking inside any buildings. All he found were several dead rad roaches and bloatflies, as well as a high-strung Mr. Handy robot that called itself Codsworth.  It kept attempting to scrub the rust off the paneling outside one of the homes, muttering something about making sure it was in “tip-top” shape for when its family returned. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do with the thing, so he just left it to clean aimlessly in hopes that it’d be someone else’s problem later.

“Hey boss,” Sturges called out to him, waving him overs to where the others had congregated near the mechanic’s makeshift workstation, lamplight flickering on their exhausted faces, “Check out what we found in one of the fridges.”

Preston walked over, catching a glimpse of the round face of Button Gwinnett on a cardboard case of Southie Stouts. “Damn, and here I thought we’d used up all our luck for the day.”

“I’d prefer Beantown,” Marcy said as she brought her bottle to her lips, and Preston caught the briefest flash of a grin wrinkling at the corners of her mouth.

“C’mon Marcy,” Jun interjected, nudging her shoulder, “You know that’s not true.”

“I’m a Gwinnett guy, but I’d probably drink anything wet with a kick right about now,” Preston said, grabbing one of the dark brown bottles and examining it more closely. It had been forever since he’d actually gotten to enjoy a drink, long before Qunicy, that was for sure. Just as he placed his hand on the cap to pop it off, there was a bump at the back of his legs. He startled and turned around to see Dogmeat peering up at him expectantly, whining and wagging his tail. Preston knelt down and gave him a scratch behind the ears. “You a Gwinnett guy, too, boy?”

The dog let out a stern bark that sounded like a correction, and then turned toward the house across the street before looking back at him. Following Dogmeat’s instruction, Preston glanced over at the house, where Charlie stood alone, frozen and staring vacantly inside as if she wanted to enter but couldn’t.  Without hesitation, he grabbed another bottle and headed toward her

He cleared his throat as he approached to make sure he didn’t startle her.  It was neither polite nor smart to spook a lady who was already pretty shaken up.  She darted her head toward him, scrubbing at her face as if he wouldn’t notice her tear-stained cheeks and swollen nose. He pretended not to, anyway, instead holding up the bottles in his hands and smiling. “Thought you could use a drink.”

She perked up at the sight of the drinks, tilting her head and squinting at the label. “Are those--? Oh wow.”

“Yeah,” Preston said, popping the cap off of one of the bottles and handing it to her, “Stouts are harder to come by than the other stuff.”

Charlie shook her head and examined the bottle, running her thumb up and down across the label. “No… it’s just.  I’m surprised there are still any left after you know--” she swallowed hard-- “the bombs.”

She sounded harrowed, as if the bombs had just fallen yesterday or something. Maybe she was just harrowed in general.  God knew she had every right to be.

“Me too,” Preston said, opening his own drink and taking a swig, lukewarm and bitter.  It hit the spot. “It’s kinda crazy, you know, what survived.

She took a sip, sad smile at the corners of her mouth. “Like the lawn flamingos? Such a testament to pre-war vanity.”

“Those damn birds,” Preston replied, nodding and laughing.  He’d never thought much about the lawn ornaments before, other than thinking they were ridiculous.

The air between them fell silent as Charlie stared down at her bottle, picking at the label with a polished thumbnail. She opened her mouth, as if to speak, but then closed it and sighed before glancing over at him. “Can I tell you something?  It’s going to sound really weird, but I’m going to lose my shit if I don’t talk to someone.”

“Is this that ‘long story’ you mentioned before?”

“Yeah.” Charlie walked toward the bright red door to the house in front of them, slightly ajar, knob and hinges specked with rust. She ran her hand along the wooden surface and took a deep breath.  “I used to live here.  In Sanctuary Hills.  In this house.”

“But,” Preston’s brows drew together, “That’s not possible.  This place hasn’t been settled since--”

“Before the bombs fell.” She spun back around to look at him, leaning back against the door frame. “I know.  That’s when I lived here.”

“Two-hundred and ten years ago?”

She nodded her head slowly. “2077.  I had the perfect life: a good career, the best husband, a beautiful baby boy, and a shiny new Mr. Handy unit that was much less neurotic than the one over there trying to clean the dirt off the ground.”

He blinked, attempting to figure out where he’d misheard the woman, because if he hadn’t then that would make her over two-hundred years old.  That couldn’t be possible, at least not without being a ghoul, although he wouldn’t mind if she could take Codsworth off his hands.  

Charlie frowned. “I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

“No, no,” Preston stammered out quickly,  “I believe you, but… how?”

“That might be a better question for Vault-Tec,” she remarked, looking down at her suit, “My husband and I signed up for a  spot, just as a precaution.  Nobody thought the Chinese military would actually drop those nukes. Not sure if it was arrogance or complacency, but either way, it happened.  My family and I were rushed to Vault 111 to shelter.  That’s all it was supposed to be: A shelter .”

“I’m guessing it wasn’t just a shelter?”

“No.” She laughed bitterly.  “They herded us, like lab rats, into these cryogenic chambers, and locked us in there.  Last thing I remembered before waking up was my limbs going numb and my vision going dark.”

“Damn.” Preston was stuck somewhere between horror and amazement.  “Did anyone else make it out with you?”

“No.”  Her answer was abrupt, eyes welling up visibly and he immediately felt bad for asking. “When I woke up, there were these people in weird lab coats and a man with this scar--” She traced a line with her little finger, vertically from her eyebrow down to her cheek-- “He opened up my husband’s chamber and took my baby.  Nate fought, but… they shot him.  After that, I think everyone else’s life support failed.  A whole damn town, and I’m the only one who survived.”

“I’m… so sorry.”  He didn’t know what else to say.  He knew how it felt, to be a sole survivor of a terrible tragedy, but he couldn’t bring up Quincy, even if it was just to show her he understood.  “If there’s anything I can do, or that the Minutemen can do…”

“I think the Minutemen have their own problems at the moment, hmm?”  She smirked, eyes twinkling with humor despite the tears.

Preston looked around and chuckled in exasperation. “Well, considering that I’m the only one left, I’d say yes. We have so many problems.  That doesn’t change the fact that I owe you.”

Charlie tilted her head back and finished off the rest of her stout, then looked decisively at Preston.  “You’re not the only one.”

“Pardon?”

“I never thought I’d get to say this in my lifetime, outside the context of some weird historical play, but... I’m joining the Minutemen.” She tossed her bottle to the ground. “I don’t have any survival skills, I couldn’t shoot dead fish in a barrell, and I’m a bit traumatized, but I figure it’s still better than nothing.”

“Are you serious?”  Preston could barely contain his excitement.  He didn’t care if he had to spend months teaching her how to shoot or get by in the Commonwealth.  He’d been without help for so long now, he would be glad to not be alone.

“I know it’s hard to believe that anyone could be that bad of a shot, but--”

“No, Charlie,” he interrupted, “Are you serious about joining up?”

Charlie grinned, playfully. “Hell yeah.”

“That’s... well.  Let’s just say that’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time.”

If Preston were a hugger, and if he’d known her longer than a few hours, he would have embraced the woman.  Maybe it wasn’t just the jet.  Maybe Mama Murphy was right all along.

[hearthandhomemagick]

Cottage Witch Journal Entry - Everything Stays

Everything stays, right where you left it.

Everything stays, but it still changes.

Ever so slightly, daily and nightly.

In little ways, when everything stays.

I want to cry,

because I know it's coming to a close.

When he told me he had been thinking about forever, and how I wasn't a part of that...I guess I felt relieved.

In a way, we always knew you'd never stay. And the thought of losing you somehow has weighed so heavily on my heart recently. I mean, from the beginning, we were meant to be just friends with benefits. You never even intended on being in a relationship with me. The sheer fact that we got together surprises me to this day, and that we've been in this winding relationship for two years. The fact that you've stayed, after all of my faults.

I can't thank you enough.

Because you said you'd never marry me from the beginning, and because you were the first honest person in my life. I took advantage of that through this whole thing, the fact that you were the one person who never lied to me to spare my feelings. The fact that you were the first person to be real with me, and willing to walk through this desolate island of alienation with me.....I beg you to understand how much you have helped me.

In my darkest time, you held me and cried with me. Through some of the hardest moments in my life, you were there to comfort me and be by my side.

Fuck, man. I don't even know what to do with myself.

I knew you would leave, you told me from the beginning you would. But it's like that moment you're about to run into something. You know mentally you're ready for it, but it doesn't make the pain any easier when you finally run into that thing.

I guess knowing it would happen doesn't always take the sting away.

You see, we talked last night for hours. After a horribly exhausting Mother's Day, I came home to you pandering your emotions. We had discussed it a few times in the past, but for some reason this conversation really sealed everything....it wrote our destiny in stone and said this is your fate.

It started with your usual, "Why are you with me?" and me perusing through my thoughts and memories and falling in love with your character all over again. I wanted you to know that I loved you because you were, baby you ARE amazing. And I mean that, you have truly been an angel in my hardest hour. And I expressed to you everything I felt for you....but you broke the illusion.

"You know....we were never meant to last this long. Eventually, we will break up."

I knew how true this statement was, and through the whole days endeavors, this seemed to harrow my insides more than anything. This was the conversation of you breaking up with me before we were breaking up, or even completely ready to be over with each other. You were letting me know that this relationship....was futile from the start.

I'll never be what you need me to be.

And I think that's what hurts the worst here. I can be everything you want, and none of what you need. And as much as I accept that, I also mourn the loss of something as beautiful as our relationship.

You see, reality sunk in last night, that we would never last. And though we are together know, the underneath knowledge that one day I won't have the same affection I receive now fucking murders me. Even as I type this, I bite back the lump of emotions stuck to the back of my throat and swallow away the tears with a bottled water and a positive attitude. But I feel like a piece of me died last night.

Knowing that sleeping with you eventually won't be a thing. Fully understanding that there will be a day I won't wake up to you caressing me ever so gently, pulling me closer and kissing my skin. You know we aren't forever and you still love me like I'm the most beautiful thing to exist.

It's tragic.

I woke up this morning and had placed the hours of talking into the back of my mind. I didn't want to think of how we will someday not be. But, you apologized again, as you have multiple times, for how you felt and how last night went. I had cried silently, and accepted everything with ease.

And yet, I couldn't stop myself from deteriorating emotionally at this point. I tried to go back to sleep when you left for work, but sleep stopped being my friend the moment you got out of bed.

I thought about it, looking around at our apartment. At the many things we had accumulated together over the years. I teared up that moment and let myself really feel what had happened. What we had discussed. The weight of how real our end was.

I couldn't go back to sleep when you went to work this morning, my love. I am so sorry for how tired I will be when I get home. Or how I will need your hugs, love and kisses all in one place, a resting area waiting for me, and you are the only one there. You see, for now you are my home and I cannot see it any other way. I'm sorry for the potential tears that will come after, I'm trying to really enjoy every moment I get left with you. To give you the love you deserve. I'm sorry for it rolling around in my mind, I'm trying to push it deep down but I can't stop the conversation in my mind. I want you home, and I want you to just hold me.

Please.

Because, for now, you are still mine. And we both agreed we aren't ready to let go yet. Because for now, I still need you. And because before I leave, I need to know you will be fine. That you know what to do, and who to call when you don't.

Because I respect and love you, I won't hold you to me. Just let me know when you're ready....and I will go. I want you to grow, and if you grow better without me then so be it.

Just please don't down yourself. Last night, we cried because we aren't ready to let go. Because you felt awful for knowing I wasn't your forever. But let's not lie to ourselves, my love, we were destined to fail from the beginning. You wrote our story for us, and you aren't wrong or bad for doing so.

I just need you to love you the way I love you. I need you to give yourself the credit you deserve, to enjoy the fruits of your labor and enjoy life to its fullest. To walk and lead with love, and to give everything you can to the people you love. For our time is very obviously finite.

We discussed living together post break-up as well. He is my best friend, and that will never change. But I want to cross that bridge when it gets here. I shouldn't have to prepare myself to walk a bridge. I want to love and indulge in what I have. The love and comfort I have. And I want to appreciate him for everything he is worth.

Because if I can't be his last....I want to be his first impression. And fuck...do I want it to be a good first impression.

I love you, Logan. Even on the day you decide the love changes.

I will always love you.

[mywitchcultblr]

The chantry is right and mages should be in the circle. Solas and anders are terrorists and anyone who believes they arent is delusional or a hypocrite. Anders killed a hundred innocent civillian non combatants and solas wants to tear down the veil killing millions in the process. But yes we should let the people causing firestorms and summoning demons go completely un supervised

                                                         MY FIRST ARGUMENT AGAINST A TEMPLAR BOOTLICKER! YAAY!

 @lordaspoons Ok listen, first of all, I'm not felassan nor dalishlicious, my writings style is different and not as good as them, and I love to use a lot of profanities in my writings, so if you ever find ‘shit ‘ or ‘fuck’ in a post, not sorry  I SWEAR THIS POST HAVE MORE THAN 7K WORDS!   That’s why it took MONTHS for me to answer it 

TEMPLAR AND CHANTRY ARE GOD-AWFUL AND CIRCLE IS NOT NECESSARY 

Let’s see the canonical narrative okay? Let's take a look at Dragon Age keep descriptions of each MAGES heroes story and background.

Mage Hawke:

The son of Malcolm Hawke and Leandra Amell, Garrett has lived in many places throughout Ferelden. His father was a mage whose gifts were passed onto both Garrett and Bethany, Malcolm's daughter.

Malcolm refused to submit himself to the Chantry's rule; he kept his abilities a secret and taught his children to do the same.

Therefore, the family was constantly on the move to avoid templar hunters. Ten years ago, the family settled in the village of Lothering, building a home on the outskirts and making a life where they wouldn't forever be on the run.

Though Leandra worried constantly that the templars would one day catch up with them, Malcolm's teachings were sufficient to keep them safe.

He died three years ago, leaving Garrett responsible for the welfare of his mother and younger siblings. When the Blight began, Carver enlisted in King Cailan's regiment, saying the horde spilling from the Korcari Wilds meant their home would be quickly overrun if the darkspawn were not defeated immediately.

If the circle is not a goddamn prison that literally abused and drive so many mages to commit suicide then why the fuck hawke father decided to escaped and run away? The fact that even though his wife is a noble, a noble who should have been powerful enough to support him and their children and protect Malcom and their children with her name and connection is Kirkwall were forced to live in secret and ON THE RUN WITH HER FAMILY! is another of many many proofs that the system that chantry created for Thedas HURT everyone, whatever you are a peasant or a noble, if you have a mage in your family then they will be imprisoned in a circle that definitely will abuse them or you are forced to hide with them and run away from home.

IS QUARANTINE DRIVE YOU INSANE? ARE YOU BORED? WANNA GO OUT WITH FRIENDS? WANNA GRAB A MEAL IN A RESTAURANT? OR GET A HAIRCUT?

Remember De’Launcet fucking quote:

“You don’t understand. I’ve been in the Circle since I was six. Six! For Twenty years I was locked up. Never had a real drink, or... cooked something for myself. Never stood in the rain... or kissed a girl.”.

You cannot treat people like that! You can’t! it’s not right to imprison and enslaved people, mages, like that, there’s no justification to deny basic human rights/rights for any races. Imagine how desperate, depressed, touch-starved and horny you are, if you are not allowed to touch a woman who consented to have sex with you, imagine beingfucking locked up for twenty years and never feel the rain on your face. 

Maybe you should try being locked up for most of YOUR LIFE, for shit you never did in your life ever, aka committed horrible crimes that you never committed in the first place? 

Where’s the logic? Where’s the humanity? Andrastianism and The chantry is the worst religion and the worst religious institution in Thedas, and templars are not champion of the just, they are champion of abusers. 

But besides because of religious zealotry and dogma, why did the chantry locked up and enslaved mages in circle and put templar in circle to fucking abused them? OH RIGHT! I KNOW! its for power and profits, because using slave labor to make enchantments and used mages as soldiers who never wanted to be dragged into war in the first place,  it was and as prison/free labor to mass products enchantments is profitable for the chantry. !GROSS! DISGUSTING! Disgusting really.   The circle system is not only a prison camp, but also an institutional slavery.  

GROSS! DISGUSTING! But it sounds like any oppressive nations/institutions ever that used prison camp free labor to built factories and to work in their factories right? 

Disgusting really. 

Hey, LOOK AT HERO OF FERELDEN AND INQUSITOR EXPERIENCES IN THE CIRCLE! WHOA, IT WAS AWFUL!

For Mage!Trevelyan:

Born to the Trevelyan noble family of Ostwick in the Free Marches, you were originally intended for a life of privilege—until magical abilities surfaced at a young age and you were forced into a life of confinement within Ostwick's Circle of Magi. Protected but stifled, educated but isolated, the Circle would have been your entire future had the mages not rebelled against Chantry rule.

Trevelyan said that templars are a piece of shit who has two fucking faces (he said it to Josie) they smiled at mages (fake) but then they turned into as still as tone when a mage was punished ‘harshly” 

Remember what Cassandra said when mages find out that Tranquility can be reversed, dipshit fucking seeker, lord seeker lucius punished mages ‘harshly’ and there were deaths, and by definition of harsh for mages in thedas is: 

Rape

Isolation in an isolation cell (like what happened to Anders for a year!)

Starved to death like what happened to the real Cole

Tranquility or they are just killed. 

Every mages, adult or child, has seen or experiences abuses daily in their life, you can imagine the physical and physiologicalphysicological damages that templar and chantry have inflicted on them. As a person who was fucking abused by her own father, Ii know too well how lasting scars could damage you for life. 

TO ANYONE WHO DISMISSED ABUSES ESPECIALLY ABUSE THAT WAS PERPETRATED BY A RELIGIOUS SYSTEM/INSTITUTION, here take my middle finger AND SHOVE IT UP TO YOUR ASSES! 

Look Hero Of Ferelden life when she was still stuck in the circle:

The Hero of Ferelden belonged to the Circle of Magi in Ferelden, and resided in the tower at Lake Calenhad for most of her life. First Enchanter Irving recommended the Hero to Grey Warden Commander Duncan; shortly after the Hero's Harrowing, Duncan recruited her into the order.

https://mllemaenad.tumblr.com/search/mage+warden+

https://dalishious.tumblr.com/post/190968276307/mage-child-are-the-templars-coming-for-us-mage

Mage child: Are the templars coming for us?

Mage child: Is death painful? Am I going to die?

HEY WANNA TAKE A LOOK AT SER ALRIK? THE SERIAL ABUSER AND RAPIST?

 This is a letter that Alrik send to justinia before he died.To Her Excellency, Divine Justinia,I am well aware both you and Knight-Commander Meredith have rejected my proposal, but I beg you to reconsider. The mages in the Free Marches are past controlling, their numbers have doubled in three years, and they have found a way to plant their abominations in our ranks. They cannot be contained!

The Tranquil Solution is our answer. All mages at the age of majority must be made Tranquil. They'll coexist peacefully, retain their usefulness—a perfect strategy! It's simply the best way to ensure mages obey the laws of men and Maker.I remain, as always, your obedient servant,

Tranquil solution? Sounds like what Henrich Himmler said about Jews!

 Because Tranquility is a genocidal weapon that the chantry used to decreased the mages population and culling them, hmmm you heard about an 11 YEARS OLD GIRL WHO was MADE A FUCKING TRANQUIL IN KIRKWAL? 

Here I will give you a link to dalishious post about a young mage, 11 years old kid who was made tranquil by templar and chantry: https://dalishious.tumblr.com/post/620951635453149184/im-confused-it-says-that-she-requested-to-be|

ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING *spit on chantry and templar* 

There’s no fucking justification for turning a kid into a tranquil, neither raped woman who was made tranquil or mages in general just because they have magic. Alrik and his man are known for abusing and raped tranquil on a daily occasion, and they were granted a title, position, money, and job by the chantry, meredith is a bitch who treated mages like a slave, she was drunk on red lyrium, she didn’t do shit for refugee and she fucking took over Kirkwall seat of government, forcefully, while it was not her job to lording over Kirkwall like a power-hungry bitch. 

And for years no one checked on this bitch, because miss little grand cleric of Kirkwall is part of Meredith group, and no matter what unless the chantry got fucking destroyed or HEAVILY REFORMED like what Divine Leliana did, people like Meredith and

Ser Alrik will never be held accountable by the chantry or any rulers in Southern Thedas (except by King Alistair who gave rebel mages a safe refugee place I guess) because most shit heads who ruled in Thedas profited from oppression and slavery of their PEOPLE, OF MAGES AND ELVES. 

You are a modern man, how could you ever side with the medieval church like the chantry? YOU KNOW THAT MEDIEVAL VATICAN AND TEMPLAR OF OUR WORLD WERE AWFUL RIGHT?

You knew that the vatican/church in the medieval era trapped people in dark ages with their regressive politic and dogma, you knew that gay people and woman were burned alive just because they were gay and just because they are? Woman? Maybe some of them truly practiced magic, but hey magic is cool.

I don’t understand at all, this fucking hatred and bigotry against mages and elves that spewed by some people in the fandom, anyone who hates mages and elves inherently hates them for who they are, for simply who they are. 

My burning hatred for templar and chantry were caused by templar and chantry terrible actions for the past 10000 YEARS!!!!!!!! And not because they don't have magic or just because they are human. 

The chantry brainwashed human to dehumanize others 

I think this is one of the most disturbing crime the chantry ever committed for the past 1000 years, I can’t even help but shudder in disgust every time i heard chantry sisters or brother calling other people ‘abomination’ or ‘heretic’ because i know how dangerous religious zealotry can be.

As a Muslim who live in Indonesia i have seen people being thrown out of their house or whipped in public (In Aceh province) 

2.NOW MAGES ALLIED BY THE THE INQUISITOR AND THE INQUISITION IS THE CANON PATH!

 (deal with it honestly) 

First of all, when The inquisitor went to Val Royeaux, the inquisition met with Lord Seeker who was arguing with chantry sister, he didn’t want to listen to her, and then he punched her (bitch fucking deserve it, to be honest, chantry members except anyone whose not bigoted like Leliana and Giselle deserve to be punched) he insulted the inquisition and the inquisitor! ( what a Bastard Dick! Well, templar order is gone and he’s going to die anyway so....Whatever) 

When the Inquisitor went back to the way he came from (from Val Royeaux gate)

FIONA LEADER OF FREE MAGES HERSELF, DESPITE THE RISK AND DANGERS, WAS WILLING TO PERSONALLY GAVE AN OFFER OF ALLIANCES BETWEEN REBEL/FREE MAGES WITH THE INQUSITION.

FIONA GOES ALL THE WAY, FROM SAFETY OF REDCLIFF VILLAGE TO VAL ROYEAUX JUST SO SHE CAN meet WITH THE INQUISITOR AND OFFERED HIM AN ALLIANCES WITH OTHER REBEL MAGES (Of course The inquisitor accepted it, he’s a rebel mage after all duh!)  

From the very beginning you can see which path is the preferred freaking option, Its In Hushed Whispers and not the other one.

Besides it would make more sense for the sake of continuity to find out about the rift, time magic, who’s the mastermind behind what happened in Redcliff Village (Alexius tricked Fiona and other mages with time magic and blood magic to signed up with Tevinter) AND HOW FUTURE WITH CORYPHEUS WON LOOKS LIKE, rather than I don’t know.....Whatever bullshit in Therinfal Redoubt.

SECOND. Free alliances with rebel mages definitely would give The inquisition more advantages, first mages knew how to deal with magic and the fade, mages are more suited and powerful to fight against enemies that cannot be defeated by shield and swords. 

THIRD. 

THERE WERE NO ACCIDENT, NO UNWANTED POSSESSION OR EVEN NO POSSESSION AT ALL, NO DISASTER, AND NO ‘ABOMINATION’ .

 FOURTH. THE MAGES CONSUMED fewer RESOURCES BECAUSE THEY DONT NEED LYRIUM TO FEED THEIR ADDICTION/CAST SPELLS.

FIFTH. 

 FOR A WHOLE YEAR DURING CAMPAIGN AGAINST CORYPHEUS, MAGES HAS PROVEN THAT THEY CAN TAKE CARE OF THEMSELVES, MAGES WERE DISCIPLINED, RELIABLE AND BOTH THEDAS, INQUISITION, PEOPLE WHO LIVED IN SKYHOLD AND MAGES THEMSELVES ARE FINE WITH THE MAGES BEING FREE, WITHOUT RELIGIOUS SLAVERS WHO OWN THEM, WITHOUT JAILER WATCHING THEIR BACK. 

SIX. SPIRITS AND DEMONS were LITERALLY EVERYWHERE, AND EXCUSE ME, HAVE FRANCOIS EVER RECEIVED/READ REPORTS ABOUT HIS FELLOW MAGES FALL INTO DEMON POSSESSION? HELL NO! NOT EVEN ONCE

SEVEN. 

MAGES ALLIED AS FULL ALLY WOULD BE MORE INDEPENDENT, AND THEY COULD TEACHED YOUNG MAGES HOW TO SURVIVE ON THEIR OWN, THEY COULD BE MORE INVOLVED WITH SOCIETY, AND MAGES ASSIMILATED TO SOCIETY  

AND FINALLY.

DO YOU want A ANOTHER FUCKING PROOF OF MAGES FREEDOM BEING SUCCESSFUL? DO YOU WANT LITERAL CANON PROOF THAT MAGES BEING FREE IS ONE OF THE BEST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED IN THEDAS?

 The Inquisition's mages – the former rebels led by Grand Enchanter Fiona – are left with a choice.

Alliance

Leliana is Divine

When Leliana disbands the Circles, they leave the Inquisition and reform the College of Enchanters as a new order. The College, they say, will allow mages of the South to gather in peace and seek new solutions to age-old problems. For the moment, it appears to be working – mages are enjoying unprecedented acceptance throughout Thedas. 

Epilogue for mages freedom in Trespasser:

NOW College of Enchanters, Thedas third or fourth most powerful mage order and government (third if Rivain mages flocked to The College but I think Rivain mages after all mages has been freed (remember its canon) they will unite with Rivain government or if College Of Enchanters turned out to be stronger than mages order in rivain ) , the college is third/fourth-strongest order after Tevinter obviously, Nevarra death mages, and Rivain mages.

And everything is totally fine.

Leliana Divine, Mages recruited as allies

The end of the Inquisition as it had been sent shock waves through the College of Enchanters. Madam de Fer ably played on the mages' fear. Her followers united to build a new Circle - with Vivienne as its Grand Enchanter - in direct competition with the College. What the Circle lacked in numbers, they made up for in political connections; soon they were a force to be reckoned with.

Well about this stuff in trespasser it’s just vivienne stuff I guess *shrug* 

College of enchanters will always exist because like I said before so many many many times, that ever since Hero of Ferelden Era, To Kirkwall and then to Dragon 4:41/ 4:44, the canon and preferred path is to support mages and elves equality and freedom!!!!

THERE I GIVE YOU ONE, AND IT WAS MORRIGAN WHO SAID IT HERSELF.

Even a chantry sister from haven admitted that the mages looked happier and she said that she supports/give them chance to 

 SO WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?! CIRCLE IS NEVER BEEN FUCKING NEEDED! IT WAS JUST DRAKON STUPID BIGOTED MOVES TO ENSLAVED AND COLLARED MAGES AND ELVES.

Rivain mages were fine, and their society worked well with mages have their freedom Rivain trained their female mages to be seers, and seers hold important positions within Rivain government and society, oh but what happened? When the chantry fucking find out that Rivain didn’t treat their mages like shits and slave, that Rivain treated mages with respect like any other people. 

The chantry fucking send right on annulment and committed genocide against Rivain fucking mages, chantry you shit organization, Rivain will hate you more than before and I wouldn’t be surprised if the grand cathedral in Rivain will go boom too (i will support it, fuck those people) the chantry literally murdered children there and committed genocide against people of Rivain, No one will defend them in Rivain, no one. 

Codex Entry:

 When we heard of the injustices against our fellow mages at the White Spire, the Circle of Magi in Val Royeaux, I feared what was to come. Our Circle at Dairsmuid is small and isolated; it exists largely as a façade to appease the Chantry.

When the other Circles rose up, the Chantry sent Seekers across the bay from Ayesleigh to investigate. They found us mixing freely with our families, training female mages in the traditions of the seers, and denounced us as apostates. Perhaps they thought we were spineless robes who could be intimidated with a little bloodshed. Before I was first enchanter, I was the daughter of Captain Revaud, of the Felicisima Armada. I know how to plan a battle.They brought with them a small army of templars. We fought. And we might have won. But they invoked the Right of Annulment, with all the unrelenting brutality that allowed. 

It is their right to put screaming apprentices to the sword, burn our "tainted" libraries, crush irreplaceable artifacts under their heels, tear down the very walls of our home. 

No mage has the right to disagree. We of the Dairsmuid Circle wait now, behind barricades. I have sent word to our brother and sister mages of this outrage. When they breakthrough, we will not die alone.—Final journal entry of First Enchanter R

Whoaa look at the chantry and templar, casually committed genocide because they are ass hole who cannot accept that they are wrong, maybe they should accept those different nations have different cultures and traditions? Hmmm, maybe templar and chantry should accept that people are not a mother fucking weapon and slaves to be used and imprisoned since they discovered their magic, chantry and Templar  should learn when to stop, and they should learn that they didn’t know shit and doesn’t want to know shits about spirits? self-righteous much? 

Circle system, templar system, and chantry system cannot be saved because it’s just awful, those systems systematically oppressed and abused people, and we all know that time and time again YOU CANNOT KEEP PEOPLE OPPRESSED AND ENSLAVED FOREVER, THEY WILL REBEL AND SOONER OR LATER THEY WILL WIN THEIR FREEDOM AND THE OLD SYSTEM WILL BE BURNED TO DUST.

No matter how you tried change the circle/templar system, it will always be prone to corruption, because the system put templar above mages, and when someone have more legal immunity and power above other people, then abuses of authority will always happen, hey....LOOK AT COPS IN OUR WORLD.

if anyone tries to prevent other people from being equal and free just like any outer people there who have privileges and advantages, holy shit you are horrible, that’s a shitty bigoted view. 

BEFORE INQUISITION WAS EVEN REBUILT, MYTHAL AND MORRIGAN PREDICTED THAT THERE WILL BE GREAT CHANGES COMING, MORRIGAN PREDICTED THERE WILL BE A HERALD OF CHANGES IN THEDAS. 

They were talking about The Inquisitor who will completely turn Thedas upside down and changed systems that Thedas know it with better ones. 

SO why even bother to fucking keep an old system that doesn’t work and very oppressive and it was designed to imprison and enslaved people? 

okay, listen here you little templar- oh I mean Ex-Templar, because templar order of the south is just gone forever  ( who the hell wanted to be a templar again after people knew how dangerous lyrium could be? Especially after they saw lumbering red templar ABOMINATION, *not sorry they are really ugly bastard* Wrecking havoc all across Thedas 

3.MAGE FREEDOM AND DESTRUCTION OF TEMPLAR ORDER IS A GOOD THING FOR EVERYONE AND FOR THEDAS! 

Let me explain it to ya! 

1. Mages won their freedom means, no more tranquil, there would be no more long-suffering half walking, half living person who’s cursed in the emotionless body (well at least in the south) 

2. Mages could finally raise their own children, have family, married without fear and they don't have to run away from templar and chantry if they want to marry someone, mages children who were taken forcefully from their parents could finally meet their parents again, you don't want kids who were kidnapped from their family since a young age to be reunited with a family who loves them and misses them so much? Holy shit that’s monstrous.

3. Mage Orphan who has no relatives/family/home/ or friends to return could stay with College of Enchanters with other mages.

4. No more children will be kidnapped from the parents, no more mother who will lose their mage baby again because the templar and chantry ripped their baby away from their arms, never again.

5. New Generations of Mages kids who never have to endure torture and abuses in the circle, they can grow up in a safe and happy environment with their family or with the college.

6. Mages actively participated in society, and they can invent a great many things for Thedas modernization and advancement, remember Zither? He’s a mage and he uses his magic to play in a band, imagine the possibilities of Thedas technology-magic advancement with unrestrained magic, boi based on the newest leak, it seems like Arlathan was a magical cyberpunk empire. 

7. As a free citizen, many mages abilities/ skill can be implemented for different kinds of jobs, hey remember Lysas who wanted to be a mage farmer? Agriculture in Thedas could be improved with magic, Medication, and medical studies could be greatly modernized with magic, not to mention fashion, opera/plays, and music, hell even professional chef jobs will be much easier with magic, The inquisitor used telekinesis/spell to fixes broken bridges, and lit a veil fire are another example that magic could be used for mundane stuff and not just for

8. College of Enchanters definitely would be a steadfast ally for The Inquisition and The inquisitor, and not to mention that the Inquisition new operations area would be in the north/Tevinter, mages would be able to help greatly.  9. With templar order gone forever in southern Thedas, then there will be no more people who are force feed lyrium and suffer from lyrium addiction to the point they become a beggar because they wasted all of their coins for lyrium. 10. So mages now are free, no more circle, then what’s the point of templar or seeker anymore? Actually Seeker, circle and templar are never needed, then how southern Thedas  should handle with magic related crime or just crime in general, well I’ts easy, you see mages guard in Tamriel world? You know those guards in Skyrim? Or guard/law enforcer in Warcraft world who use magic? With mages free they also can work as guards

Why templar and chantry bootlicker literally believed in The chantry fearmongering false propaganda about mages and magic? It’s like medieval Vatican bullshit! fearmongering about technology and ‘sin’, fearmongering about spirit and magic? 

We live in the modern era! So stop believing chantry propaganda! 

Stop living as if its the 10th centuries, don’t keep clinging on the awful terrible system and it’s past, dude, see the future in front of you, and  try to be positive about progressive changes. You know what happened to a world who refused to change? Yeah man look at Anor Londo, everything rot there.  And have we ever heard about terrible accident that was caused by mages from College of Enchanters? Or by any mages at all? NO ONE EVER CONFIRMED THAT FREE MAGES OF THE SOUTH WRECKED HAVOC ALL ACROSS THEDAS, BECAUSE THE FREE MAGES DIDN’T DO ANYTHING AT ALL. AND THE MAGES HAS BEEN FREE FOR TWO YEARS! COLLEGE OF ENCHANTERS HAS BEEN OPERATING FOR TWO YEARS WITHOUT ANYONE ENSLAVED AND JAILED THEM  Hey man, i gave you straight fact that mages being free is the best choice to support, and facts that nothing bad happened with mages being free, so your theory and your fear (that actually is just wrong, and it’s sounds kinda like paranoia to be honest Persecution is really stupid, that’s why it’s called persecution in the first place. HA!  

ANDERS WAS, RIGHT!

‘Terrorist’ is a term that can be overused and utilized by people in power to demean and demonized freedom fighter/Resistance movement against tyranny.

  https://mllemaenad.tumblr.com/search/is+anders+terrorist%3F

There’s fuck tons examples of people who were falsely accused as terrorists by tyrannical power to labeled them as a danger and to demonize them, while ‘the terrorist’ who fight for equality and freedom were demanding their people to be treated like a human, and they wanted equal rights. 

 examples: 

[ I am an Indonesian btw, so I knew personally some stuff about dictator and dictatorship government]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bgwS_FMZ3nQ&ab_channel=PhilosophyTube

 https://www.britannica.com/event/resistance-European-history

https://www.thejakartapost.com/academia/2020/09/07/long-road-to-see-justice-over-munirs-murder.html

As an Indonesian woman, our people were oppressed by many European nations, from Dutch To British to French and Portuguese, our nations were stripped and reduced to mere colonies of European powers, our people were enslaved in their own lands, woman raped and children murdered, then after Dutch leave, because Hitler almost sunk their nation during WWII, Japan fucking invaded our land and then enslaved us again! 

Japan lost the world war alongside with its axis allies, YAAY! We are free, but wait, the Dutch Empire was such a baby they wanted their ‘toys’ , they fucking demanded the allies to helped them invaded Indonesia again because in the eye of Dutch Empire we are nothing but their slaves to be milked dry and taken advantages of, but we fought back! And now all Indonesian people from children to the elderly are free!

Did Indonesian people won their freedom and built their nation with being subservient and asked nicely? 

FUCK NO, blood was spilled and heads were cut, a lot of head, but at least now generations upon generations of Indonesian people will never taste the brutality of slavery and how does it feel to be enslaved. Our first president was considered as a menace and a terrorist by Dutch Royalty, he was imprisoned in isolation but managed to escape over and over again! 

|

But wait, if any person who rebelled against the government regardless of their intentions can be labeled as a terrorist *gasp* IS THAT MEAN GEORGE FUCKING WASHINGTON WAS A TERRORIST?! Apparently, by British Empire standards, he was.

 The guy and his friends waged a war against the crown, because British Empire keep treated American colony like shit, from the perspective of King George, Washington was a piece of shit who kept ruined his country and his colonies, but boi Americans would be angry if someone called Washington a terrorist right? Because for them, Washington's struggle and rebellion were righteous. 

YOU CAN’T SIMPLY USE THE LABEL OF ‘TERRORIST’ TO CONDEMN ANDERS AND HIS ACTIONS WITHOUT EVEN UNDERSTAND HIS MOTIVE.

Because if you keep doing then, in your perspective every single freedom fighter who rebelled against cruelty and tyranny should be condemned? 

We are talking about what is a ‘terrorist’ here, and if you want to label someone as a terrorist then you have to read their manifesto, understand their motive, try to hear what they wanted to say, and understand the core of ideas behind their rebellion. 

Here’s the thing, will you call the Stonewall riot as an act of terrorism? ( i presume from your blog description you are a supporter of LGBT right? ) 

What about Joachim Ronnenberg? A man who leads a daring raid against Nazi Germany nuclear weapon factory had the german succeded in their efforts, we might have read devastating histories about the nuclear bomb that destroyed London like what happened to Nagasaki and Hiroshima.

From the perspective of Nazi Germany...This guy  wasis a terrorist and an enemy!

But it feels so wrong to describe freedom fighter as a terrorist right? How could we label people who resist nazi Germany as a terrorist?!

Because we know, despite the casualties, despite everything that happened, what they did was right, and they needed to fight back. 

Allies marched to Berlin was the right thing to do, American colonies rebelled despite they knew that a lot of people will die in war, but have you ever condemned the founding father and his people for their rebellion? Or argued that it wasn’t necessary for them to rebelled. Soekarno wars and rebellion against dutch colonists and invaders cannot be condemned, because objectively, no one should support slavery and colonization of other nations. 

French people were so sick and tired of their nobilities and royalties bullshit to the point they cut off their own monarch head, but they were right, because French Monarchy was corrupt and incompetent, while nobles and royalties were feasting and drinking as if there’s no tomorrow, poor people in French can’t even afford bread. 

Trans and Gay people who fight back and demonstrated against injustice was right, the woman who demonstrated and rioted against the oppressive system and patriarchy was right.

WE KNEW DEEP DOWN THEIR CAUSE ARE NOT EVIL, OR CONDEMNABLE, THEIR CAUSES ARE OBJECTIVELY RIGHT! 

But what if it were someone like Adolf Hitler who hmmm rebelled against the Weimar Republic, back before his raises to power around 1920-1923, I’m sure that you are familiar with his Beer Hall Putsch, when he held 14 mass meetings in Germany, for the nazi it was a historical moment, ‘a glorious resistance against the weak and incompetent Weimar Republic’

For his supporter it was glorious, but despite their best efforts to convinced themselves that they were right, WE KNEW HE WAS NOT RIGHT, Nazi was god awful.

What is the core idea of nazism? (I'm going to compare it with socialism/communism because some people keep saying that communism is just like nazi, and it's absolutely wrong) 

https://www.britannica.com/topic/communism/Marxian-communism

https://www.britannica.com/event/Nazism

They are very different. Ya see despite some people who keep yelling that communist is just nazism by any other name. ( and I’m not a communist) 

Adolf Hitler might see himself as a savior, a martyr, and his party also people who supported him

richard spencer, see himself as a ‘liberator’ and voice of white people, but behind all of his fucking bullshit, his core ideas are just Naziism, he is a nazi, Richard Spencer is a white supremacist so does any other alt-right edge lord on the internet who insisted that they are not nazi, despite the fact they fucking followed nazi ideologies and practiced hatred ( btw nazi ideology is based on white supremacist and eugenic ideologies too, so what’s the difference really?” Nazi is white supremacists and white supremacists will always be a nazi) 

Alright and how all of it ties back to Anders and mage rebellion, you might ask, ‘why did you write about histories lessons that I already knew about?’ 

Well templar child, it’s all lead back 

TO THE CORE OF ANDERS IDEAS AND MANIFESTO AND WHY HIS IDEOLOGIES/BELIEVES AND MAGES REBELLION WAS ON THE FREAKING RIGHT SIDE. 

I wrote that fucking long-ass paragraphs so people will be able to differentiate the righteous kind of rebellion (or ‘terrorism’ from the perspective of the power/oppressors) and the god-awful kind of rebellion/terrorism.  

Because instead of listening and learning about what anders wanted, some people are often so fixated on the semantic of the word ‘terrorist’ and got too distracted by that stupid chantry explosion. THE CHANTRY EXPLODED IS THE SAME KIND OF THING IF HITLER OR STALIN’S OFFICE too  

People died? Yeah so does people who died during USA war against British Empire, was it terrible that people died? Yeah it was terrible but just like what i wrote before, the rebellion had to happened. And you said that he killed hundreds? Huh the numbers was never 100% confirmed because i don't think Isabela count the bodies, and second we cannot be sure about numbers of the casualties, because we never really see  ALL them in the first place. And actually arent Hero of Ferelden, Hawke and Inquisitor killed SO MANY PEOPLE? What about The Dragonborn? No to mention that in their journey they also destroyed private and public property and killed so many god damn animals to the point they could have been the reason why some species of animals are endangered.  And no one ever protest or raised a fuss when heroes killed tons of people.  Arent templar and chantry also killed and tortured so many people? What about mages who were killed or made tranquil for the past 1000 years? What about mages who committedcommited suicide like Orsino friend who locked herself in a closet then set herself on fire? Because she no longer can’t stand living in Kirkwall Circle prison? What about Anders friends who often committedcommited suicide because what templar did to them and that lead to severe depression? What about mages and elves who were hunted down and killed just because they escaped from their circle prison, they were killed by order of the chnatry and templar cut them down with their sword? What about Elves of Dales who died because Orlais wanted to expand its fucking territoryterrtotry and justified their racial superiority? Chantry and templar supported that. What about Karl who asked Anders to killed him because he preferred to die rather than be a tranquil again? Or captured by templar again? TEMPLAR AND CHANTRY COMMITED MORE CRIMES FOR THE PAST 1000 YEARS MORE THAN ANY PERSON DID, THE TEMPLAR AND CHANTRY MURDERED, ENLSAVED, TORTURED AND IMPRISON PEOPLE ALSO SUPPORTED GENOCIDE FOR 1000 YEARS!  IF WE CALCULATED NUMBERS OF PEOPLE WHO DIED BY THE CHANTRY ORDER AND TEMPLAR SWORDS, IT’S MORE THAN FREAKING MILLIONS!  ANDERS DID WHAT HE DID TO FREE THE MAGES AND FUTURE MAGES CHILDREN, SAME THING WITH FIONA  AND THE MAGES WHO REBELLED TO FREE THEMSELVES AND  FOR THE FUTURE OF MAGES, THEY ALSO REBELLED FOR FUTURE MAGES FREEDOM, THEY REBELLED FOR THE FREEDOM OF PEOPLE (because unlike what noodle and chantry said and spread, mages are PEOPLE!) so what are you saying again? HUH ? what is your justification? What is your defense? CHANTRY AND TEMPLAR CRIMES CANNOT BE DEFENDED!   If you justified Templar and chantry crimes then THE EVANURIS AND TEVINTER and the stupid qun ideals  can be justified too? From OBJECTIVE perspective Anders ideology WAS RIGHT! HE AND THE MAGES BELONG WITH THE RIGHTEOUS REBELS. Let’s compare chantry/templar mentality and moral vs mages and elves believes and pursuit of freedom. 

Let’s see examples of chantry/templar mentality based on evidence and popular opinion in Thedas that was forced by The chantry to people head.

1. The interpretation of chant of light that mages and nonhuman are abhorred by the maker, and they are ‘evil’ and corrupt’ i must remind you that MODERN and RELEVANT andrastianism in modern Thedas, has twisted whatever Andraste said and they strayed so far away from what andraste possibly could have wanted. 

What if Maferath Betrayal was not based on maliciousness? Or not just based on maliciousness? What if Andraste was truly a mage? The chantry lied about Shartan, the chantry fucking lied about Ameridan, if there’s one IRONIC TRUTH about the chantry, they lied, they twisted story and histories for their political power and their gains.

the whole ‘magic must serve man and not rule over him’ was purposely misinterpreted to fucking justify drakon fucking fanfic holy book, and his campaign to conquer the rest of Thedas. And the chant verses were twisted as a stupid and terrible justification to demonize and enslaved mages and elves in circle towers. 

In a nutshell that chant actually said that magic is a gift that should not be used for terrible deeds. But andrastian changed the meaning and twisted their own prophet words to enslave and oppressed southern mages.

2. The chantry believes about Everything that related to the fade/spirits/ or demon are dangerous and inherently evil, I ALWAYS LAUGHED MY ASS OFF, whenever templar/chantry/andrastian/non mages spouting hateful shits about the fade and spirits, it’s incredibly ironic, because there’s an implication that ALL PEOPLE who were not made by Titans (dwarves was made by titan) were spirits from the fade who ‘created body from the earth’ after they descended to the material world.

The evanuris, first of elven people, Solas and his people were spirits, it can be safely assumed that modern elves, humans and qunari in their truest form are spirits as well. 

 I think during his personal quest, All New Faded forFor Her, Aka The Dreadwolf Fen’harel, Solas has explained the truth about what human, elves and qunari truly are and what is their true form would be once they are died ( if they are not a remarkable person then they will simply be lost to the fade ) 

Besides it’s the chantry who spread hateful and ignorant propaganda about evil of spirits/demons, the fact that chantry spread such misinformed propaganda and derailed hates of the fade and spirit into people mind actually is one of the reasons why demons and unwilling possession as modern thedas know it exists, I know Cole explained that  spirit who crossed from the fade to the world was simply traumatized by their journey, the veil hurt them ( we can blame Solas for that) rules in the material world is just confusing, the earth and it’s mostly inflexible and unchanging rules confused them.

But if The fade can be bend and shaped by powerful dreamer/mages/ dreams and believes of people. That means...Demons were also created by The chantry ignorant and hateful propaganda. If many people believed that spirits are dangerous or ‘they are demon’, that spirits and the fade are scary then that’s how they will manifest.

The fade and spirit can be influenced by people's collective beliefs and perceptions. That’s mean it also The chantry and their dogmatic backward propaganda that made spirit/demon as we know it today, I mean for some reason Cole called himself a ‘demon’? While the boy was never corrupted nor twisted from his true nature, i think it’s because people perception of him and spirit.  The chantry dogmatic believes backfired on their own face. rule about 

3. Blind devotion to Orlais Chantry, theThe chantry foundation was made of bones upon bones and blood, emperor kordilius drakon butchered many cults and stamped out any non-andrastian religion or branch of andrastianism that didn’t conform to his cult believes so he can establish his cult of andraste as the dominant religious power in southern thedas or thedas in general. 

The Daughters of Song 

Wine. Music. Poetry. And the wanton and frenzied indulgence of carnal fancies. These things characterized the hedonistic cult known as the Daughters of Song. Calling them an order of the faithful lends them a legitimacy they do not deserve. The daughters (and sons, though they saw themselves also as "daughters") celebrated Andraste's holy union with the Maker in almost every way imaginable. And it was only the "holy union" they venerated. Andraste's life, her war, her teachings, and her sacrifice were blithely ignored.

At its height, the Daughters of Song numbered in the thousands. They maintained a stronghold in a village called Virelay, in the Fields of Ghislain. Virelay saw a yearly event during which the Daughters of Song paraded carven images of the "Maker's Glory" through the square.The Daughters of Song were wiped out by the righteous forces of Emperor Drakon during his campaigns to unite all of Orlais. When the emperor's forces sacked the village, the Daughters would not arm themselves and were either killed or captured. The village was destroyed, and the cult never recovered.—From Before Andrastianism: the Forgotten Faiths by Sister Rondwyn of Tantervale

HA! Blithely ignored her fucking war and ‘sacrifice’ is much better than using the story of andraste life as propaganda and tools to conquer, murder, enslaved, and wiped out groups of people who didn’t buy to your shit.

The daughter of the songs was not a cult of a sex-crazed hedonist, they were another group of pacifist andraste cult who didn’t do anything wrong at all (seems like they were peaceful, they didn’t even willing to armed themselves when Drakon butchered their people) and they just wanted to be left alone to their own device, but of course Drakon,  that egotistical bastard who sees himself as a martyr and narcissistic self-proclaimed holy man, so he put any people who didn’t want to listen to his bullshit to sword. 

The chantry and Orlais using their god, their prophet words, and their religion as a bludgeoning tool to conquer and forcefully converted people, the foundation of modern andrastianism religion was based drakon totalier philosophy his ambitions to rule all of Thedas. 

Ironically if there are people who smeared and desecrate andraste and the maker, its their followers. 

This kind of religious militant mentality has ledlead to people justification of exalted march, because they thought that they were doing it for the maker, they believed that the march is the maker works, anyoneany one who supported exalted march were so convinced that they were right to spilled so many blood and butchered so many people for their religious zealotry (and political ambition of their rulers but eh peasant rarely know anything about what happened in winter palace right?) 

if you supported exalted march of dales or exalted march against mages then.... As a Muslim i just want to say, what’re the differences between exalted march and Christian crusade? And we know that Crusade was a waste of resources and lives  or ISIS ambition for expansionism? 

Military and Religion is a dangerous and scary combination. And I can’t comprehend why any modern human could be so thirsty and horny to destroy other people's nations for their religion and their interpretation of their religion. and let me remind you again, the chantry and templar supported this mentality and often using the maker as a reason and justification of their terrible deeds.  The chantry refusal to acknowledge and respect different kind of andrastian religion and their outright rejection of different religion lead them to wiped out pre-chantry andrastian cult aka their own brethren and destruction of The dales, destruction and deaths of so many dalish clan, prejudice and bigotry against qunari and dwarves. and we don’t have to talk about what happen to old god religion worshipper. Y’know sounds like dark age church and their obsessions to stamped out any kind of ‘heresy’ , you like that shit? You supported it? EWWWW. D:  4. Templar and Chantry brainwashed people to be hateful bigot, I don’t care about any kind of justification or ‘positive deeds’ that andrastianism has done, a thousandthousands years of proofs and facts has proven that most of the time they spreading bigotry and hate for their own political power and gains, the chantry instilled intolerance on people mind and using terror as a way to control population of Thedas, people except for the ruling class are live in uncertainty and fear, we might see peasant in thedas just living their simple life, but if the temple and chantry find out that they are doing anything ‘suspicious’ or they hide their relatives who can use magic then that’s it, their life will end by chantry order and Templar sword, not to mention that the chantry bigoted cheating also lead to  these kind of situation, remember  that mage who were murdered in the storm coast by villager? She died because the chantry brainwashed people to hates on anything non-human and to hate on mages. NOW THE MAGES, let’s take a look at the mages and elves. 1.The mages and elves just wanted to be free and to be treated as an equal in society, not as a walking weapon to be enslaved and imprisoned and not as a servant/slave to non-mage human (or in tevinter and the qun not as a slave in general for elves and mages too who suffer under the qun ) if anyone supporting an ideology or people who deny other people rights, BASIC RIGHTS, then all of you fucktard can rot in hell. 2. Fiona, despite the chantry and Templar oppressed and enslaved her people for must I remind you again 1000 year! Fiona Was still willing to let other fraternities and other circles to vote, whenever they wanted to follow her rebellion or not, AND THE SOUTHREN MAGES CHOSE TO REBELED AND FOLLOWING HER! 3. Now mages freedom is canon, the mages now have their own government and they   rule over themselves( college of enchanters) and they never try to enslave, oppress, brutalize and hurt non mages 4. Now Briala rule in Orlais, she  could help to keep:  1. Remember that mage who died in Gaspard on leash and preventing him from invading other nations, not to mention that she definetly

4. 

Oh, Solas where are thou ~

Now about Solas and the veil, we might speculate to our heart content about Solas plans and what he might do in the future, but to be honest, truth to be told, NO ONE EXACTLY KNOW what is his actual plan for the evanuris, for the blight, for titans and to tear m down the veil. We only have morsels of information about his plans from trespasser, and Tevinter night (also from the leaks).  Who knew maybe Solas plan will ironically save the world? Doomed it? Saved some people? Only doomed half of the world? Will the world end? Or survive?  Now i want all magic to come back but without have to kill millions of people in Thedas, Because it will solve non-mages vs mages problem, everybody will be mages and the centuries of problems will be solved, not to mention that with the minuscule amounts of magic Thedas physical world now have, people seemed to slowly devolving, being cut from magic of the fade is not only horrible for mages but also for non- mages (Because the fade is the sources of power and life itself, not to mention that Solas referred to it as ‘The sea of souls’ in Tevinter Nights)  Here’s the thing, with or without Solas even waking up from his long sleep, i think The veil will be destroyed either way, here’s the evidences that supported my theories (But i still have no idea about What exactly will happen just like many other people out there ) Sandal Prophercy:  “Sandal: One day the magic will come back. All of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part, and the skies will open wide. When he rises, everyone will see.”  Grand Duchess Florianne: “ A great CHANGE  is coming for all of us lord seeker lucius:  “ We created a decaying world, and  fought to preserve it even as it crumbled, we had to be stopped” Kieran:  “My mother is the inheritor of the next age” Mythal: WE HAVE NO IDEA ABOUT WHAT SOLAS PLAN IS, what is he going to do with other evanuris? What bout the titans? What about mythal? and ghilan’nain creatures that has been slowly emerge from the sea? What about the blight and darkspawn? I feel  like Solas wouldn’t be the true next main villain, he wouldn’t be Corypheus 2.0, why? Because unlike the blight or Corypheus, Solas have important relationship with The inquisitor, while most any other fucking villain have little to no relationship with heroes. So here Solas quote from Tevinter Nights: His look pinned her “I have no choice.What  I am doing will save this world, and those like you- the elves who are still remain-may find it better, when  it is done.” Solas might call himself “Prideful, hot headed and foolish.”  but he’s not a fucking idiot, he wouldn’t just tear down the veil  just to bing elven glory back,  there must be something bigger behind his motives, like the evanuris and well titans I don’t want to say much about the possible consequences of what might Solas  do, because frankly we don’t know anything about it. It is possible tho that the veil destruction will be the same thing just  like the fifth blight, mage and elves vs Templar and chantry/human war, Corypheus rises and fall  and the fucking explosion of both Kirkwall chantry and temple of sacred ashes,  it just going to happen, it is what fucking it is man. To quote Steve Jobs “One more thing” Patrick  fucking Weekes and their wife supporting mage and mage rights MEANWHILE... if you could live anywhere in Thedas, where would you live? PATRICK: I would live in Rivain. Because Rivain is not as hung up on magic, because they have seers who let themselves get possessed... they also have a relatively peaceful relationship with the Qun. And they're kind of a melting pot and multicultural... they're a place where a lot of different cultures come together. And also? Beachfront property. KARIN: I was just gonna say... if you need further justification, they get to say, "I want to live on the beach."

Yeah, that was a really good one. Okay, moving on: Mages or Templars? PATRICK and KARIN (in unison): Mage

http://www.dumpeddrunkanddalish.com/2020/05/castles-fennecs-and-player-engagement.html http://www.dumpeddrunkanddalish.com/2020/04/chatting-with-weekeses-part-3-romances.html

[lackofhonor]

Narcos Episode 01.09 – “No, I have not been duck hunting, you... fucking hillbilly.” – Javier Peña

So this is supposed to be fun?” Javi asked sarcastically. 

Murphy lowered the binoculars and looked over his shoulder at his partner. Javier Peña was hunched over on the bench seat in the boat with a cigarette clenched between his grit teeth. The orange coal of the lit cigarette casting a tiny glow in the grey gloom of the morning. They had been on the water for maybe two hours and while Steve found the air refreshing, it was clear that his friend was finding this morning’s hunt less than invigorating.

Two weeks ago Steve had convinced Javier to come up from Texas for a visit. He had spoken with Javi via phone many times after what had happened with Escobar. Truly, Javi deserved to be there for when the fucker fell, but it just hadn’t worked out that way. Instead, Javier had been sitting in Texas waiting on a disciplinary review for his actions. Still was waiting on that review, in fact. Steve had tried to stay in touch, even as he and Connie tried to gather together their lives in Colombia and move them back to the States. It had been a monumental challenge for him personally and professionally but the strain was worth it to be standing over Escobar in the end. And it had ended for him with taking that last photo of the bastard dead on the roof. It had ended for him when he and Connie stepped on that plane flying out of Colombia. Hadn’t it?

Yeah.

But had it for Javi? Well that was the question, wasn’t it?

-

Steve couldn’t help but feel his friend still had loose ends from Colombia in his head that needed tying. Y’know, beyond the fact Peña’s career was on the line with this review board shit. No, Javi still wanted some blood. Via their phone calls, Steve had gathered that all Javi had done since hitting stateside was drink liquor and fuck women. And while that was pretty much Javi’s M.O. throughout the entire time Steve had known him, normally Javi didn’t seem so depressed while going about his chosen extra-curriculars. Sometimes he fucked or drank away the stress or was sullen and frustrated. Sure, that was fine. But this was something darker and sadder than a typical bender.

So during their most recent weekly phone call, Steve did what anybody would do for a friend: told him the truth (“You need a hobby that isn’t fucking women or drinking yourself to death, Javi.”) and invited him on a trip (“Come on out and see Connie and I. Relax for a bit. Take your mind off this review board shit for a while so you can get your head on straight.) Javier Peña, being a reasonable man who recognizes that perhaps he may not exactly be dealing with things well, gave in with some reluctance (“…yeah. Yeah I guess I could come out and see you guys for a weekend. Not like I have much to do here until the hearing anyway… “) So of course Steve Murphy felt the need to try broadening his friend and former partner’s horizons by introducing a potential new hobby (“Great! We can celebrate for real with you here. There’s this band Connie’s been dying to see so we can hit that up. Plus the season just opened Sunday and I’ve not been since before I was posted in Miami. We’ll be able to go duck hunting while you’re down here.”).

-

This chain of events lead to the current moment with both men sitting in a olive drab john boat that had seen better days and Steve’s cousin’s dog sitting in the floor next to their feet. They were floating on the choppy waves of a muddy river looking out over nearly one hundred duck decoys bobbing in the freezing water. It was a cold day. The sky couldn’t seem to decide whether it wanted to spit light rain or tiny frozen drops at them and the wind cut at their faces. The boat was tied to posts sunk into the riverbed that were part of a blind covered in camouflaged netting and live willow branches. Sort of a little faux tunnel the boat could hide in. Murphy had stealthily steered their vessel inside that morning after a truly harrowing ride across the water just before dawn. Murphy was calm. Soaking in the sounds, smells and sights around him. He maneuvered the boat with ease and stroked the Benelli shotgun with a fondness that spoke of years of similar experiences when he had loaded it earlier. Javier on the other hand was not as charmed. His shoulders were bunched up to his ears trying to maintain valuable heat in his neck and head and he hunched over the borrowed Remington 870 in his lap as he stared blankly at the horizon.

“Stop your whining. Isn’t this nice? You get out in nature. Enjoy some fresh air.” Steve shared in his low friendly baritone. He took a moment to drink some hot coffee from the dented green metal thermos by his feet and observed the sky contentedly.

Javi grunted and continued to puff at his cigarette as he curled further inward. He felt miserable. He was still a bit hungover from the night before to tell the truth. The wind had changed direction again and the bitch was cold as hell right in his face. He didn’t come here to be tortured by Murphy’s idea of what a healthy past time should be.

“I’m freezing my ass off in a rinky dink boat decorated in switchgrass at the ass crack of dawn so you can get this bullshit out of your system. I did not need to come along for this hillbilly holiday,” Javier complained loudly. Murphy merely hushed him with a look and continued to sip his coffee and pet the black Labrador laying in the floor of the boat.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. You got to eat a nice hot breakfast at least. Homemade biscuits and eggs fresh from the chicken’s butt. And Ace here likes you,” Steve said. Javi grumbled under his breath but did give the dog a fond scratch behind the ears.

From the slate colored sky above came a chorus of quacking, signaling the incoming flock of about thirty mallards from the south. Outlined against the ominous grey clouds above the river Javier could make out the green heads and lighter colored feathers of the birds. Steve fumbled for his duck call and gave some rapid fire noise that he had tried to explain to Javier the day before was a “hail call”. It was meant to draw the ducks in closer.

“Take your time. Let them get in close enough. Remember what I told you: swing through. Butt, belly, beak then bang!” Steve tells Javi sotte voce. They both ready their weapons as the birds approach.

“Alright, take ‘em!” Murphy hisses when the birds are in range. Javi leans into the gun and squeezes the trigger through the arc as he follows their quarry. The sky explodes with sound and two birds drop from the sky into the watter below. “Good job man!” Murphy cheers and high-fives Javi.

Maybe this hillbilly crap isn’t so bad, Javi thinks to himself as Murphy gives the dog a gruff command that has it launching itself form the boat into the water. It is kind of nice to hear the lapping of the water on the boat’s hull, the gentle flutter and soothing noises of the birds. The river in late fall is beautiful in its own way. It is stark and wild with all the green faded away now for the season, but still beautiful. Javi observes how his friend is so relaxed in this environment and cannot help but crack a smile.

“Good boy Ace! Come on, come on!” Murphy calls as the black dog paddles back to the boat. The dog is determinedly swimming back to them with head above water with the downed bird. Murphy is moving around inside the blind now. He seems to be poking around searching for something when he starts to curse.

“What’s the matter?” Javi asks as he removes the hood on his sweatshirt from over the camo baseball cap Steve had loaned him. It’s still cold, but maybe the adrenaline of the moment earlier has warmed him some.

“Fuck, I forgot the ramp this morning. It’s this thing I stick on the back of the boat so Ace can get back in the boat on his own. I coulda sworn I stuck it in here this morning.” Steve is rummaging behind the extra life jackets and decoys.

Javi shrugged and looked out to see the dog treading water over the side. Javi could barely keep his eyes open when Steve woke him up at 4 a.m., shoved his feet into a pair of chest waders and tossed him a dark green hoodie with the words ‘Ducks Unlimited’ on the chest and an old camo coat. Although he did wake up pretty quickly once they got the boat on the rive and he had the icy spray from the speeding boat and wind in his face.

“What’s the big deal?”

“He can’t get in the boat dumbass. He can’t swim like that forever. He’ll get tired,” Murphy stated, “I’ll just take the boat off the pylons and we’ll beach on the shore real quick. He’ll follow and he can climb up the rocks onto the boat.” Murphy began the process of untying the boat from the mooring posts and unlashing parts of the boat hide that made up the floating duck blind. Javi looked over the side again at the plucky little retriever. Big, bright, rusty brown eyes in a handsome black face stared back while the animal continued to paddle away, duck still firmly clamped between its jaws. He could see the nostrils of the animal widen as it huffed air in, still treading water. It wasn’t that big of a dog. 80lbs maybe? He could just scoop it out of the water. Easy.

Javi stood up. “You don’t have to do that.”

Murphy wasn’t paying attention at first. Too focused on untying his complicated knot from when he tied up earlier. He felt the boat sway as his friend moved. But out of the corner of his eye did he see Javi lean over the side of the boat for the dog. His eyes widened. “Javi, no-.”

“Come on big boy, I gotcha.” Javi called to the dog as he leaned for over into the water to scoop up the animal. He had it about balanced right. The dog was barely out of reach. If he could lean just a little further now.

“Come on Ace. Oh shi-!” Murphy watched as his partner tipped headfirst over the side.

Two seconds later the spluttering dark headed man surfaced right next to the boat cursing a storm. Ace, the mallard still clutched in his mouth, whined continuously and paddled around Javi in the truly frigid water. Steve reached out a hand to his friend in the water, bracing himself off the motor in the back of the boat. “Swim over here. I can get you back on without capsizing off the stern,” he instructed.

Javi carefully kicked and stroked his powerful arms to the back of the boat and grabbed Steve’s hand.

“Alright, on three I am gonna haul you up but you gotta push yourself onto the boat at the same time.”

Javi nodded.

“Alright, ready…three!” Steve groaned and heaved the sopping man out of the water so that his top half was wedged onto the boat. Javier used his elbows and shoulders to drag himself fully inside and flopped into the hull with a grunt.

Steve laughed and shook his head as he watched his friend cough and shiver. He was ok. He’d be a little cold but Steve would set him right in a minute. At least now he didn't look so moody, like he had been sucking on a lemon, like he had looked all morning. No, now Javi looked like a drowned rat. Although Steve wasn’t going to tell him that. Yet.

Javi straightened himself up, sitting on his knees and glaring at his friend. But before he could open his mouth the persistent whining of the dog interrupted. Steve peered over the edge of the stern of the boat. Ace doggedly paddled with the bird still in his maw.

“Alright buddy, hang on. You think we can pull him over together or you need a bit?” Steve asked Javi as the man tried to wring out part of the ancient camouflage coat that he had loaned him that morning. Javi rolled his eyes and positioned himself in the stern, carefully bracing himself on the side as Murphy was also doing. Together they carefully reached down into the water and hauled out the black lab and rolled him into the boat, dropping a good amount of water back into the boat.

The dog leapt to its feet and presented his prize to his master. A job well done surely. Murphy ruffled Ace’s ears after plucking the bird from the dog’s mouth and handed it to Javier.

“Your first duck hunt and your first duck. What do you think Javi?” The blonde man grinned at him so widely Javi couldn’t help but return the smile as he took the duck from his friend.

“Y’know, all things considered-“

Javi was interrupted by a truly massive full body shake from Ace, spraying he and Murphy with even more freezing water. Soaked to the bone, water dripping off the bill of his cap and desperately in need of a smoke he looked down at the black dog, its tail thumping furiously on the floor of the boat. He thought about the way that early morning fog had looked on the water and the duck he would eat later with Murphy’s hick relatives. He though about the money he spent for a license and duck stamp that would go back to preserving more habitat. He thought about the quiet and the trees and the way the biting wind felt. Javi wiped the water from his face and kneeled down to give the dog a good scratch behind his ears with one hand while he still held the duck.

It was fun.

Kinda.

The dog shook itself again. More water went flying. Javi scowled.

“Have we fed your inner redneck enough for today? Cause I have enough for a lifetime I think,” he huffed, searching the pocket of the duck coat to see if his precious cigarettes were dry enough to be lit.

Steve laughed and clapped him on the shoulder as Javi cupped the flame toa damp, mangled white paper cylinder. “Tell you what, next year I’ll come to Texas and play cowboy with you and your Dad on the ranch instead, ok?”

Javier’s eyes lit up. “Don’t get too cocky there, hillbilly. We’ll have to see how you measure up at ropin’ and drinking whiskey.”

Steve rolled his eyes and started the boat motor for home.