#please read those I like them a lot

[rain-on-wax-feathers]

nonhuman burr, washington, and eliza!!!

[saphira-approves]

Alright buckle up y’all, I’ve got a book series recommendation and propaganda under the cut for any fans of the Inheritance Cycle.

If you read our beloved farmboy-turned-dragon-rider books and had a particular fondness for: the idea of an order of individuals chosen to be both partner and rider to powerful and beautiful magical creatures; Snowfire; an immortal evil that resurfaces in disguised and unexpected forms (specifically referencing the Draumar cult which we now know had influence in Galbatorix’s rise to power); and/or the juicy juicy drama of complicated parent-child relationships, then oh boy do I have a recommendation for you.

Mercedes Lackey’s Valdemar series, comprising of many, MANY individuals novels, trilogies, and short story anthologies. I don’t currently have a count for the exact total of published books, as I’ve been getting most of these from my local secondhand bookstore, but she’s been publishing these books since 1987 and is still writing them today in 2024.

Since this is such a huge collection, it can be hard to know where to start, so first of all I’d like to assure you that you can start pretty much anywhere, with any of the individual novels or series, so long as you make sure to find the first installment of that series. Personally I started with The Black Gryphon, which seems to be one of the chronologically earliest books; Arrows of the Queen of the Heralds of Valdemar trilogy would also be a good place to start, being the first published Valdemar book, though I haven’t actually read it yet—I only just got my copy today, actually!

At any rate, wherever you start, there’s a lot to look forward to. Lackey has a knack for writing characters with depth and complexity, giving them flaws that are so well balanced by endearments that even at their worst, you can still understand and empathize with them; she absolutely refuses to write idiot-plots, allowing her characters not only to remain consistent with their established characterizations, but also to communicate with each other and allow their relationships to evolve as the characters do. Characters are allowed to make mistakes, be vain and stubborn and prideful, get angry, get jealous, get scared, and yet afterward still be received with love and forgiveness when they apologize. The magic is beautifully described and, at least for me, easy to understand; the schemes are clever, diabolical, and exciting to watch unfold. There is true, pure evil in the villains, and satisfaction in their endings.

There’s also a decent amount of diversity, which may or may not be surprising, depending on what you’ve read of 80s/90s SFF. Of the handful of books I’ve read so far, here are my observations: Lackey writes fantastic and complex women full of depth, emotion, and ingenuity, each as different from each other as their backgrounds would demand. There are several canonically queer characters across the timeline, including a main protagonist. Lackey’s worldbuilding establishes several unique and disparate cultures, drawing clear influence from many non-European real life sources, with featured characters of those cultures given, in my opinion, respectful and appreciative spotlights. There are characters with disabilities, respected both by the narrative and the characters around them. There are also non-human cultures, characters, and protagonists!

As fantastic as I have been finding these books, it would be remiss of me not to add that these books will not be for everyone. They are firmly adult fantasy, and Lackey does not pull her punches when she wants her characters to suffer. There is torture, sexual assault, suicide. Not all of this is graphically described, but some certainly is; most of the graphic stuff I have so far read is of about the same intensity as the torture scenes of Inheritance, but some of the abstractions are much more intense, and I get the sense that some of what I haven’t yet read may be both graphic and visceral. That being said, if you could handle Game of Thrones’ graphic violence and assault but disliked the persistent pessimism of that series, this one might be right up your alley!

Anyway. That’s all from me for now. I’m off to go read about characters bonding with magical creatures somewhat beyond mortal ken and going on fantastic and harrowing magical adventures. :)

[sciderman]

I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with so much Iranian hate and drama <:[

oh anon. hate to break it to you (a lot of people make this mistake) but iran and iraq are two entirely separate nations.

and also i think reducing it to the words "hate and drama" kind of doesn't cover it, anon.

[longagoitwastuesday]

I have learnt things about Geto that I wish I could unlearn

[amoneki-ramblings]

hngh. okay first rant post I just think amoneki is so insane especially for how much they care and respect for each other right up until the very end like???

okay first of all there's obviously the way that they outright say (even if it's not directly to each other) that they don't want the other to die

Also the fact that Amon tells Kaneki to take a Break. In the middle of a fight. (Which also adds him to the pool of characters that are trying to tell Kaneki to tell him to just let himself rest for once (who he does Not listen to))

Also the fact that when Kaneki deals his first (and only) potentially fatal blow to Amon Ever, instead of feeling betrayed by the fact that he was trying to avoid attacking him before or thinking "Oh so this is where he finally tries to actually kill me" Amon just calls Kaneki strong. He Cut Off His Arm and Amon's first thought is just to say that he thinks he's strong, even if this should technically be a sort of betrayal to all their previous encounters and a Contradiction to what Amon observed at the beginning of this fight about how Kaneki really wasn't planning on killing him (it's like even though this happened he knows deep down that it wasn't with a real killing Intent).

He doesn't even think about himself or that he might Actually Die he's just thinking about Kaneki even right then and afterwards

(ohhh my god I hate Amon (/affecionate) I have so many Thoughts about him especially thoughts Specifically about how he has a sort of idealized version of Kaneki in his head from the few times they've interacted I could talk about it for Hours (but then I'm gonna be here for ages and I will get So off track) )

And it's also about the fact that. In his final thoughts/words in tg Kaneki opens up with Amon's words; these are his words that have been stuck in his head ever since he first heard them and they are some of the last words he clings to before he's "erased". (When I first saw that line near the opening of the final chapter I almost lost my Shit) Like,

It's about how even up until the end they're thinking about what they said to each other at that first encounter by the river

It's about how much impact they've had and Continue to have on each other even when they're basically Dying (and it's partially the others' fault)

It's about the actually Insane amount of parallels and the flipping of their situations between their first encounter and their last (in the original series)

It's about how neither of them deal the killing blow in an "unfair" fight (when the other is basically disarmed) but once they're on equal grounds that's the closest they've come to Actually killing the other and even then they don't want that to Actually happen and both hold onto that same thought

It's about how the natural thing would be for them to just fight and/or kill the other without a thought but they don't because "This guy's Different"

Enemies to It's Complicated. Enemies to you-have-impacted-my-worldview-in-irreversible-ways-and-I-wish-I-could-just-sit-down-and-talk-with-you-but-can't

Enemies to I-should-hate-you-because-you-(technically indirectly)-caused-the-death-of-someone-I-cared-about-but-also-your-words-won't-leave-my-head-and-I-want-to-know-more-about-you-also-I-don't-want-to-kill-you-but-you're-not-leaving-me-much-choice

Amoneki divorce has me so fucked up

[sysig]

Bad time of it, all things considered (Patreon)

[princeofhags]

i just finished reading about iraestra so wand of twilight for her as well!

Wand of Twilight. Iraestra conjures a spirit from the land of the dead to speak to them.

FANTASY PROMPTS | @foxboyclit

Smoke floods the altar in fragrant plumes, the familiar taste of myrrh coating the back of Iraestra's throat uncomfortably. Her steps, purposefully measured and slow, sound monstrous in the cavernous wings of the ceremonial chamber. The peace is further broken by the occasional murmur of an invocation or rustling cloth. There has been no order given for silence, but the trepidation hanging heavy in the air as the incense enforces the command. They all wait in the lurch of a breathless hush, an animal instinct to a known threat. Still, so that the hunter is not enthralled by your fleeing. Anticipation before the blow.

Does their visitor scent the fear he instills in the air, like a hound? Does the chorus of thrumming hearts beckon to him like the call of war drums? Bodies, so many bodies for him to open and bleed.

Itaestra does not doubt that he often relishes it. Bhaalspawn are such curious, depraved half-beasts.

Prince of the Blood. A self-given title, perhaps, but she has heard the reverence Bhaal's faithful pour at his feet like wine libations. Their honored guest is heir to a butcher's legacy. She thinks him little more than a glorified killer draped in the dressings of grandeur.

Iraestra does not cower or draw back from him, but there is still an instinctual unease at the thought of a Bhaalspawn being familiar with her. The Dread Lord’s wicked heirs do not know friends, only warm bodies to bite with steel. The world to them is already dead, merely waiting to be torn asunder to show its truest color: the crimson of fresh spilt blood.

A hedonistic dogma. She holds her tongue due to the respect granted to Bhaal by her own unholy master.

She observes the preparations for the ritual with only half an eye, attention commanded by the ophidian silhouette haunting the edge of the room. What a disquieting picture he paints. His height causes him to loom terribly, heads and shoulders above the flock of mortal meat. He need not even draw his weapon to kill half the room should he wish it. Each finger is tipped with a talon that catches the candlelight with each of his clenching hand. When he had spoken, his teeth had stood out vividly against the stone-black gleam of his scales. The dried gore on his scales embrace him as intimately as any lover.

The wicked length of a barbed tail flickers in what may be a sign of agitation in his people, or merely a quirk of the extra limb. His attention is riveted on the altar. She half expects it to catch aflame.

She attempts not to concern herself with his growing impatience. Any fool can cast a spell to converse with the departed; a Myrkulite only does so at the behest of another and the blessings of the Bone Lord. She will not disregard the tenants of her faith even for this Prince.

"You're eager," she observes. The dragonborn has not left the corpse's side since it was brought to her. Curious. He must be thoroughly invested in the secrets it would spill. "It was good that you preserved the jaw. A wasted trip had you not," she stops by the head, only the breadth of a few steps between her and the Prince.

At that, he finally regards her. Even in his initial instructions he had been short with her. "What of a tongue?

"Is this a theoretical or practical query?" Short of the patience to wait for an answer, Iraestra snaps at one of the attendants. "Bone Talker, check the mouth."

Questing fingers find only half of the appendage still intact. If removed before death, exsanguination is as likely a cause as any.

"It will do," she decides. "I am ready to begin." Her attendants step back as one.

The body has been prepared as best they can given its mangled state. This man, who can be no older than twenty, bares the marks of a slow death. The skull, partially caved, rests unevenly on the cloth. He does not even look peaceful now, as the victims of violence rarely do.

She steps forward, hands rising from her sides. Iraestra readies herself to speak the ancient words.

"Alone," the Prince's clipped voice rings out clearly. Not a request. Demand.

Iraestra hisses her frustration. Better vexation, than dread. She knows the vestments of anger well, slips into them like a second skin. Her mouth twists, her shoulders draw tight. Her hands are half-formed claws in the air. She hears the pound of her own heart in her ears.

What is so important that it cannot be witnessed by the others? What is to be done with her, who will attend to the questioning herself?

"Mistress?" Every cowled head in the room turns to look at her. They hear the call for her death as vividly as she. One of the fools is brave enough to step towards her, as if they could truly do anything to intervene. She admires them for their stupidity.

The Prince watches her, well aware of what he asks for. Trust or faith or maybe both. Clearly, he is looking for a reaction. Will she falter, will she balk? Could he make a bouquet of the stench of her unease? He regards her with a snake's stare, eyes cold licks of fire. He does not blink.

If he thinks he can subdue her so easily, then he is sorely mistaken. She is drow. She is Oblodra. Her own mother's hands were the first to ever try to take her life. He will find no easy marks here today. Let him slake his thirsts elsewhere. There are other, weaker creatures for him to gorge himself on.

"Leave us," Iraestra does not take her eyes from the Prince. She does not speak or move again until the door clicks shut behind the last attendant. How awfully similar it sounds to the closing stone of a tomb.

She rounds on him, irritation clear. "Why did you ask for me?"

The Prince is the first to look away, back to her hands and then the body. Iraestra does not feel like she has won anything of merit. It is impossible to tell if he is pleased. "The Banite confides in you. I thought to do the same."

He does not give a name, nor does she ask for it. She wonders at what the Prince knows of her talks with the other Chosen.

"And what if his confidence is misplaced?" A theoretical. Her loyalty is not often brought into question. It is rare that she pledges it at all.

"Then I will kill you," the Prince simply states.

She laughs. That intention is only the natural conclusion of the dance. There is no greater aim for those of his depraved bent. "So you say. Did you not plan to do so already?"

His head tilts in a particularly reptilian gesture. His glittering eyes have found the pulse in her throat, her bare wrists. She cares not for his study. It feels too much like a physical caress, high beneath dress and robe. One hunger is not too different from another, and she supposes they may be frighteningly the same for him. Both indulgences of the flesh, in the end. "Do not tempt me. Your blood would spill sweetly on this floor."

Iraestra sneers. "Cast your fetid gaze elsewhere, brute. You will not find easy prey in me."

He chuckles darkly. "Of that I am sure. I would savor the challenge as much as anything else."

"I was under the impression that there were more pressing matters at hand, given your early insistence on haste."

"Time can always be afforded for pleasure, sorceress. Consider the feel of silk on the skin. The burst of fruit between teeth and the rush of the juice down your chin, the clench of a lover tight around you as they sob your name. That final, shuddering breath that flutters out of the throat at death. Do you not feel the drum of the heart in your own chest? Do you not wish to dance to it? If you are so indifferent to it, I could show you how to listen to it once more. To feel it." How reverently he speaks, as if he is at the shrine of his own father-god. His lids have nearly closed in rapture.

There's smoke in the dragonborn's mouth and anticipation in his words, thick enough to choke on. He whispers with the tongue of a snake, words dripping from the depravities he utters.

As mad as his sister, the shape-changer, Iraestra decides with disdain. The seed of Bhaal is truly cursed with madness, complete and true. It was preferable when he was barely acknowledging her presence despite demanding it in the first place.

"You have nothing that I desire." Were she younger, still a fool turned by a pretty face, she may have once allowed herself to be seduced by the offer. She ignores the answering hook of arousal low in her gut, focusing once more on the misshapen head on the pillow. Reminds herself of whose hands exactly have crushed it. There is much to do before she is ready for the grave. "Now, if you will allow me to get on with this, we may be each rid of the other before long."

“A pity that you deny yourself,” but he nods. “Perform your rites. Regretfully, I cannot linger for long.” 

Iraestra does not regret that. She is exhausted and enthralled by him in equal measure. Let this be the first and last time she suffers his company. 

She begins her prayer to the dead. 

[tolerateit]

hmmm unfollowing and blocking lots of people

[rithmeres]

genuinely these panels are going to make me ugly cry

[sastielsfandom]

I wasn't planning on doing anything this week, because of this weeks strike. But the environment me and my sister's are in isn't good for us.

My hair is falling out, I'm constantly in pain from stress, and my anxiety is so bad that I cannot sleep. Meanwhile my sister is bleeding from the stress. That's just the stress my older sister and I are going through.

Hello, if you aren't familiar with me, I spent 2023 homeless for majority of the year. We are living with someone else and have been since Thanksgiving. Since then, my sister got a job, I am working on getting my ID, i have the money for it, I just need to get to a DMV, and I am enrolling myself into school again.

I stay at home with my two younger siblings, one is still a minor, the other is an adult, but they're both disabled and need someone to help them fulltime. Hence why I stay at home.

We are with a legal guardian and their partner, but our legal guardian does not own the property. And it's unclear how much they know is going on with us and their partner who is making us stress out to the point we deem it unsafe.

This partner stated I cannot stay on the property to take care of my siblings unless I enroll into school. I am hoping I have everything I need to fully enroll because I have very few documents on me.

I am the primary caretaker for my siblings, my older sister is right after me. As I understand and meet their needs, they trust me to advocate for them and to protect them.

Making this stipulation has made trying to enroll even more stressful than it had been before. Hence the heightened anxiety.

My older sister and my other sibling, who are four years apart, had a dispute yesterday. The younger one did attack our older sister, our sister did not retaliate. It was all verbal except for that attack, however, this partner is claiming there's abuse.

They threatened to take it to CPS as we have an active case open, and despite trying to explain the situation, it changed nothing. They told us this is far from over and they know the system.

We have already talked about wanting to leave because of the first instance with me. Now, we believe we have no choice but to tell CPS about how uncomfortable we are in this environment.

If you can help us get out of this environment, here's some links that can help.

Cash.app

Paypal

I hate having to do this, but I cannot handle this constant pain and anxiety. I already have health issues that I constantly have to maintain, I am scared about the damage this is doing to me. I'm even more scared for my sister because she's having similar health problems our mom has had, and those are fatal.

So please, share or donate if you can. I apologize for having to do this again but I have put it off as long as I could.

[bikananjarrus]

always a bit of a whiplash moment (and a disappointing one at that) when i'm reminded that characters that i've headcanoned as queer aren't actually canonically queer. like somebody refers to them as straight and i'm just ????? THAT guy???? you think that guy is straight?? now i've got bad vision but i don't think i'm the one who needs to get their eyes checked lol

[necrogfie]

why am i back in my hp era noo

also holy fck i need more lily x reader fanfic i wanna kiss her pls

[mazojo]

Butai ni Sake! chose emotional devastation once again

[obnoxiousarcade]

I have a longing to be understood more than anything else i think

[mad-hunts]

🎤 - An audio transcript from a recording

[ ARKHAM TAPES: patient 0158, barton mathis. FOR STAFF USE ONLY. ]

contains potentially triggering content such as child abuse, heavy violence, and overall disturbing content.

[ the only thing that can be heard in the beginning of the recording is the faint murmur of a man's voice — the volume is very low, and yet, you can just hear the southern twang in his voice as clear as day. the sound of the recording device scrapping against something loudly is what resounded through the audio next. then, it stopped, and the volume is much better as it seems whoever was using it fixed it. from there, a man who seemingly goes by the name DOCTOR BOWMAN begins speaking to someone across from him.

❝ alright. this is session number 3 with my patient, known as barton mathis, and the date is 3/12/2015; for records, this is doctor bowman. is it alright if i record our conversation? ❞ the southern twang the doctor had is more pronounced than ever now, and it made the slight hum that came from somewhere across from him in response to this seem a lot quieter than it actually was. the hum was resigned as if to say ' eh, whatever ' but there is a hint of aggression just barely present in it. a velvety, but still equally as deep voice answers him, ❝ mm, sure — why not? not that you really care about whether i want it be recorded, or not. ❞ doctor bowman paused at that. the only sound audible through the recording is a half-suppressed ' ahh ' that gives off a peculiar aura of sad understanding, ❝ i do care. we just have certain... rules set in place here, that everyone has to follow. it's just a policy has been in affect ever since doctor crane was fired from here. ❞

a quiet snort came from the other side of the room, and the sound of some sort of furniture crunching under the weight of barton adopting a new position atop it is audible. he sounded snide whenever he talked next, ❝ oh, he was a lot more than fired from here, wasn't he? it's okay. you can say that he became a patient here because he was experimenting on people. if only he wasn't after such a foolish goal. then, maybe he wouldn't have gotten caught, ❞ you can practically hear that the sneer that had no doubt formed on barton's face at that moment. doctor bowman said nothing at first, and then made an attempt at reining him in. ❝ okay, well, either way... we're not here to talk about doctor crane. we're here to talk about you. so, it seems from one of your previous psychiatrists, ❞ doctor bowman took another pause as the sound of him flipping through papers escaped the recording, ❝ that march is a particularly rough month for you. can you explain to me why that is? ❞

the room had suddenly become very quiet, to the point where all you could hear was the sound of both of their breathing. that is, until barton's voice made a return, but the velvetiness from it is completely gone. when he answered the doctor's question, barton's voice had hiked up a few octaves and he let out a muffled sigh as if something was obstructing his speech. maybe he was biting on one of his nails, or he was covering his face with his hand. i was hard to tell, ❝ mm, no. you cannot. next question, please. ❞ now it was doctor bowman's turn to adjust his position on what was probably a chair that he was sitting on. the sound of crinkling leather resounded through the speaker, and doctor bowman chose to try to pry an answer out of him. ❝ look, barton, if you ever hope to get better then you must realize that it's going to take some discom — ❞ doctor bowman paused mid-sentence as a gasp suddenly left his mouth and the sound of something crashing to the floor resounded through the room they were in. it resembled breaking glass, maybe from a lamp, or something similar.

doctor bowman's voice trembled at the beginning when he began talking once more, but it became steady after a few more seconds as he was trained to keep it neutral, ❝ barton, why... why do you have that? no, how did you get that? ahh. you know what, i'm going to call the orderlies, ❞ what ' it ' is is unclear. the sound of shuffling, then what was probably the weight of the doctor himself being forced back down onto the chair, came through the speaker. doctor bowman attempted to say something but was cut off, now letting out another gasp. barton's voice sounded a lot quieter now, but there is a certain coldness to it. a fury, if you will, ❝ you call them, and i will kill them, then you. you think you know why march is a terrible time for me because i can guarantee you that it was scrawled down in that folder. but you actually have no fucking idea. ❞

instead of asking him to elaborate more, doctor bowman tried to appeal to the more human side of him. he sucked in a breath before coughing. ❝ do — do not do this. you know what is going to happen if you do, don't you? if you just put the knife down right now, i promise you, i'll make it so that you aren't going to face as severe of repercussions from this. ❞ another cough, and just like that, barton's voice wrang throughout the room. it was deceptively sweet now, like he was relishing in the other's terror. a series of low-pitched laughs came from him. ❝ ooh my god, doctor, you should've been a comedian. no... i'll tell you what you want to know, since you are one persistent person. and so you'll have something to think about while you're gurgling on your own blood. this is the month in which my biological father was killed by the worst pig of them all: jim gordon. but it wasn't just that he was killed that makes it so rough for me. ❞

barton inhaled deeply, clearing his throat, ❝ it's that i wanted to kill him, too. i thought about grabbing a knife from the kitchen, sneaking into his bedroom, and killing him multiple times. but that's not even the worst part. ❞ another laugh came from barton but it wasn't sadistic, or even snide. it was choked-sounding. ❝ despite all of the foul things he did to me, i think a part of me still loves him. i mean there can't be any other reason why i would want to keep a part of him, ❞ there was a long pause then before he sniffled and the sound of crinkling leather once more crept through the recording.

❝ ahh, but you know, you were one of the better ones. it's a shame i have to kill you. ❞ a high-pitched scream soon blared throughout the room in which this was recorded, before the room fell entirely silent. the only sounds after this were footsteps, which were undoubtably barton's, and the recorder being turned off. ]

[thaliagrayce]

。*★.°*:.☆Don't Put Ship Hate In The Ship Tag☆.:*°.★* 。