#siege on finale

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Heh...Literally nothing personal, kid.

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[mayhemspreadingguy]

Someone was sobbing. After a moment, Anakin realized Oh. That's me. And then his knees were buckling and he was heading for the ground. Obi-Wan caught him. "It's all right. I've got you." -K. Miller

[skywalkr-nberrie]

Crazy to me how many fans and Anidalas alike don’t know that Padmé canonically always prioritized Anakin above even her duties and responsibilities. And I have a couple of examples here which proves this:

Exhibit A: Yoda noticed that Padmé seemed to care more for Anakin than the Republic in Star Wars, Clone Wars Gambit: Siege. Anakin and OW are both placed on Lanteeb for a mission, that directly affects them and the Republic. (For added context, Yoda doesn’t know Anakin and Padmé are secretly married ofc, so he assumes she’s worrying about both Ani and OW.)

However, we switch to Padmé’ pov and it’s revealed all her thoughts are of Anakin. Her primary concern is the love of her life. No mention from her of anyone else or of the Republic (where her duties lie.)

Even Bail catches onto it and worries for Padmé because he’s afraid her fear for Anakin might expose her accidentally. He even internally reprimands her through eye contact to tell her to keep it down a notch, as he notices why she visibly tenses when faced with the question of if they can save Anakin and OW.

To top it off with the fact that Padmé herself says that nothing was worse than disaster befalling Anakin. Meaning she could handle any news, no matter how severe, of even the Republic. But not anything about Anakin.

Exhibit B: The Clone Wars, S4 episode 4, Shadow Warrior. In the episode, Anakin and Padmé make it to Naboo for a mission, where Anakin gets held up with Grievous and ends up kidnapped by Padmé’s group, but Anakin ends up captured as well. Palps instructs Dooku to negotiate with Padmé to trade Grievous for Anakin, however Dooku doesn’t seem keen on this idea because how do they know for sure Padmé would make the trade? Palps only replies with saying “I have no doubt, Senator Amidala will gladly agree to your terms.”

Even the biography, Skywalker: A Family At War mentions how Padmé did this, “to save her love.”

Exhibit C: The Revenge of the Sith Novel/Movie itself. There are two occasions in the novel where Padmé asks Anakin to just forget everything and run away with her. Once when the Republic has fallen and the second time when Anakin has slaughtered the Jedi and Separatists. Padmé’s duties and responsibilities would’ve most definitely lied with aiding the rebellion, even turning Anakin in to either OW or Bail, but she instead desperately wants him to come run away with HER.

I want to quote Catherine Taber the VA to Padmé in TCW, because I feel she said it best

“Anakin is the only matter in which Padmé thinks with her heart instead of of her head.”

It’s more than clear on more than one instance that Padmé’s prime devotion, loyalty, love, and priority was always with Anakin even before her career, and the Republic. The fact that not many fans even acknowledge or know it is why I feel most people can’t comprehend why it is that she died of a broken heart over losing him.

She was and would’ve always chosen Anakin 🪷 💛🚀

[midnightmagicks]

Dad got a DT glow-up because his old hair wasn't updated. Ngl he looks,,,,v good with his hair growing out again 👁️👁️

[todaysjewishholiday]

7 Menachem Av 5784 (10-11 August 2024)

Shabbat Chazon concluded with the havdalah ceremony and we’re now in the final countdown to Tisha B’Av. If you are fasting this week, remember to hydrate heavily across the next 48 hours. Get what rest you can, and stay out of the sun. If fasting would be dangerous to your health, please remember that Judaism is a religion of life, and that we are commanded to choose life and not to afflict ourselves in harmful ways. There are other ritual ways to remember the sadness brought about by the two burnings of the Beit haMikdash and the resulting periods of communal exile and spiritual turmoil that do not involve self-harm. Fasting is one specific form of mourning for those for whom it is medically safe.

The years of rebellion against the Roman Empire were long difficult years. Factional conflict within the Jewish community and rebel leadership did not make it easier. And as is often the case the most extreme factions were often just as willing to target their own people as they were to attack the enemy they claimed to be fighting.

The Qanai’im (Zealots) and Sicarii (Dagger Bearers) had been advocating the overthrow of Roman occupation long after Nero’s excesses persuaded the rest of Judaean society to join the cause. Deeply aware that their views remained unpopular with the majority of Jews, they sought to force the majority into alignment with them through campaigns of terror. The Sicarii were so known because of their campaign of assassination against Jewish collaborators with the Roman authorities. The Qanai’im had taken their own name from the biblical word for zeal (as in the pasuk “the zeal of your dwelling has consumed me”) but were called Biryonim (Hooligans) by the authors of the Talmud, who blamed them for the revolt’s failure and the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash.

According to tradition, the wealthiest men of Jerusalem had pledged stockpiles of food and fuel to help the residents of the city survive an extended Roman siege. The Qanai’im encouraged a more aggressive campaign of attack against the Roman army, but were rebuffed by the other factions, who were convinced that Jerusalem’s strong defensive position was one of the rebellion’s greatest assets, and that a direct onslaught against the larger and better armed Roman forces was doomed to failure. The story goes that on the 7th of Av 3829, the Zealots set fire to the stockpiles of food and fuel that prepared the city for a siege, convinced that if the residents of Jerusalem had no choice but to fight than the revolt would succeed. When the majority still balked at a direct attack on the Romans the Qanai’im then seized control of the city and took retribution against those who disagreed with them, plunging wartime Jerusalem into civil war. Within a year, the city was in ruins and the Beit HaMikdash destroyed. The zealots has barricaded themselves within the walls of the temple in the final days of the siege, and while the Romans may have destroyed it under any circumstances in their revenge upon the city, the Talmudic sages were certain that the presence of rebels in the sanctuary using it as a fortress was a Jewish desecration which preceded and helped bring about the foreign desecration of the holy place.

[aleksanderscult]

Illustrations from the Litjoy special edition

(All credits to @ekbelsher and @laura_sava_art)

[reallyhardy]

the lord of the rings: a musical tale at the watermill theatre, july - october, 2023.

act two. [act one.]

[benevolenterrancy]

Do any NieYao (or general 3zun) shippers follow me? I've been tossing around the idea of a nieyao fic but I'm getting tripped up by timeline shit because good lord JGY's life is a nightmare... is there anyone who wouldn't mind either:

a) chatting with me about timeline/canon stuff to help me get sorted

b) sending me recs of their favourite nieyao fics 👀 for, uh, strictly research related purposes for sure for sure

[yee-harr]

Fuze, bc he is rotating round my head like a dish in a microwave rn

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Meet me at midnight to see how dark we can take this crackship

Only, not as dark as I thought it could be? Oh well, @elder-dragon-reposes REALLY liked it! I mean really.

ao3 | masterlist

Her footsteps on the stair were not the first inkling he had of her presence in his tomb.

There was a shift in the air, a whisper through the stagnant corridors hissing of a presence that had not been in the halls of Forelhost since the Traitor was a young acolyte in the Order. But as alike as her presence was to that lir, there was something light that was entirely this being, this volaan that was all her own.

He would handle her. Did he not handle the Nordic invaders long ago?

"You know how you dealt with the last wave of volaan."

Froda's ghost sneers in his hollow ear, a draft that persisted in invading his chamber even after millennia. He snarls into the darkness, and silence falls again.

Tremors worble through the air, sometimes brushing the stones and at others, pressing against his ears. The volaan's encroachment into the catacombs was neither explosive nor vivid. If he weren't so attuned to the wards and runes of Forelhost, he would not have known she was there until it was too late.

Time passes. It creeps forward, frost covering the ground with the advancing winter. A chill curls down his withered spine, coiling in his chest with the harshness of a cold drake. He could taste the blizzard building in the air the closer the volaan came. He would last through her winter, just as he did others before.

"You call this outlasting the winter? It has broken you, wuth jul."

The whisper dissipates, but the growing chill does not. It permeates the stone so that frostbite threatens the dead nerves of his skin. The temperture continues to drop.

Hours pass.

Then, with a gust of icy wind, the doors open. The volaan arrives.

"Will you kill her, then?" Yes. "What a shame."

He prepared to rise, to release the ward sealing his sarcophagus, and burst into the room in a blaze of glory. But then Froda's words touched him. Why was it a shame?

Power coiled in the air, the crick shrrr hiss of ice crystals drifting through the air and shattering on the dusty stone. Dusty stones in a broken temple at the heart of a fallen city, dedicated to dead gods and a forgotten religion. Long ago, was Forelhost not the last remnant of the Dragon Cult's power? And now what was left, but dust and bone and shattered stone? Yes, yes, it would be a shame. It would be a great shame to meet such power, only to incinerate it.

Rahgot would not join the ashes on the altar to his god.

He feels her skirt the room, her chill pushing back against the heat of his wards. Closer and closer she came to him. What to do when she arrived?

Her hand on the lid was a shard of arctic ice. In life, he was familiar with the clever men and mages' magic lurking under their skin, leaving tell tale signs of each person's strngths--and weakness--in the arcane. But hers was not subtle; it was a raging storm.

IF he concentrates hard enough, he can recall a similar potency in the Traitor's presence, electric and biting in its intensity.

Both are a storm.

Dovahkiin . . .

His whisper is kiss of warmth through the coolness. He can feel her hesitate above him, and he thinks he moved in error. She was leaving. He should have remained silent.

But then the lid is sliding, solid and heavy, to the floor. Snowflakes flutter into his sarcophagus, and Rahgot sees the Dovahkiin for the first time.

He is struck by her resemblance to the Traitor, chestnut curls framing an almost golden face, wherein sat a pair of eyes so blue that the sky would weep with envy.

But yet, there is a softness in her face that wasn't present in the Traitor's, a light in the eye and draw of the mouth that spoke of exhaustion and perseverance. Where the Traitor was full of pride, this woman, this fahlil was patiance.

Where the Traitor came and went with the flash of a summer storm, hers was the long cold that seized Atmora and threatened to outlast the world.

"She'll outlast you."

But Froda's warning goes ignored.

Her hand is on the staff. Though he has not wielded it since beyond the reach of mortal memory, its heart of flame still burns like an inferno. Her mouth purses when her hand grips the stave, its heat daring to thaw the permafrost under her skin.

It is as she draws her hand back, steam curling around her finger tips, that he takes the staff in familiar hands and rises from the grave.

The Dovahkiin stumbles back, her ring-clad hand held to her chest as his presence looms before her. He can taste the power trailing from his staff to her hand.

It is quick. It is almost easy. Vahlok did not have such a fortunate confrontation. Rahgot is up and over her in a vengeful blaze.

She drops to the floor, not in defeat, but to escape his fire, and Rahgot descends--

--but she is not there. In a whirl of smoke, he turns to find her poised on the side of his coffin, ice gathered in her hands. Her face is hard, her eyes frozen.

YOL TOR SHUL! "FO KRAH DIIN!"

The songs of fire and ice meet and burst against each other, dousing the chamber in a blanket of steam. He hears her gasp at the heavy air.

But a lich does not need air, nor does he need to see.

As she stumbles backward into his sarcophagus, Rahgot falls on her, a smothering shadow. She screams when his spidery hands find the collar of her armor and the pillar of golden skin above it.

"FEIM—"

But his hand crushes her windpipe, silencing the Thu'um in her mouth. Her eyes are blown wide, sightless in the dark.

How simple, how exquisite it was to have a creature so full of power within his hands.

She is bound up in a hard shell of silver ice, but Rahgot would see to that later. His hand still on her throat, he traces the other over her face, cresting over sharp elven bones and soft mannish cheeks. He reaches her ear, and feels a tremor in her throat when his finger catches on the leaftip.

Long ago, they said Traitor's power was born from dovah sos in his veins. At the time, Rahgot did not, would not believe such a blasphemy to the gods. But over the long ages in rumination with nothing but Froda's ghost and the mountain winds to haunt his ears, he pondered the possibility of a true Dovahkiin.

Now he believed, and now he holds one in his hands. A goddess in a mortal's skin. The power of the gods could be, would be his!

"You are a fool, Rahgot."

His hiss is ghastly, banishing Froda's ghost to the fringes and washing over the Dovahkiin's face in a cloud of decay. She gags beneath him. In retaliation, he pinches her ear between two bony fingers, and she chokes, gasping.

But it wouldn't do to kill the goddess of his new religion before he's preached his message. He would seal her in his own coffin as he prepared his ascension to a new priesthood.

His wards hold the lid in place, sealing the Dovahkiin without suffocating her. He would return for her soon, but first—

There is a gasp, a brush of frost, and then from the confines of the coffin, a whispy voice Shouts, her Thu'um penetrating through stone and death.

Rahgot rounds on the tomb, pivoting from his place on the stairs from his funerary dias. But it is too late. The Shout has burst from the air into the bones of Nirn itself.

"OD AH VIING!"

Odahviing tugs at a distant thread in the long tapestry of Rahgot's memory with the strength of iron tongs pulling teeth.

Odahviing. His old master.

But how did—?

"You've sworn fealty to your own doom."

Froda's taunting voice dances in his ears as thunder rumbles in the distance. The sarcophagus on the dias is still, but dust and debris fall from the ceiling like rain. Rahgot draws back, his staff raised to meet whatever new being threatened his sanctum.

"You know what's coming."

There was a crack! followed by a heavy crash. Dust choked the air, bitter in the cold and lingering smoke steam. Then, early morning light filters in, thin and golden. In its midst is a horned head and sharpened claw. Claws that would destroy Forelhost.

"Rahgot, mey! My teeth to your neck!"

THe roof was gone, and morning sun flooded the chambers, catching on the dust motes like magicka in the air. The smoke and steam dispersed quickly, and Rahgot, for the first time in nearly five thousand years, saw his god face to face.

Of all the dov, Odahviing was always a fierce and active ruler. Always quick to action and swift to speak his thoughts. Rahgot always knew his recklessness was why he fell in the war with the Nords. But before, Odahviing was a stalwart supporter of Alduin Thuri. His priesthood followed the example set by the High Priests in Bromjunaar. He sent lesser dov to heed Alduin's call against the Traitor.

Yet here he was, heeding the call of a weak fahlil with the blood of the gods. Why—?

But Rahgot could not ponder it any longer. His master was in the chamber. A large, brilliantly formed dovah, Odahviing's size forced Rahgot to sweep back across the cracked floor, all too aware of the heat and strength of a dragon's body. But his god did not look at him.

Odahviing's claws were prying open the lid. It fell away and he lowered his snout. Rahgot could just see small golden hands grasp at the crimson scales.

"Odahviing, I can't breathe—"

Her voice, faint, speaks a language Rahgot doesn't know. But whatever she says to the dovah turns the horned head in his direction. Odahviing is snarling.

"Mey lir, Rahgot! Ruth hi!" Odahviing, thur—

But the jaws are on him. As his bones are broken by his god's teeth, Rahgot sees the Dovahkiin sitting up. in his coffin, her arms draped over the side as she tries to catch her breath. Her hair is a whirlwind and her eyes crystal. What a ravishing goddess she would have made!

Her eyes catch his through the slits of his mask. Her face is as green as the cold orichalcum. But then her mouth turns up, a sneer, and she resembles the Traitor so utterly that Rahgot, for the first time in countless ages, grew truly cold.

"Save his mask for me, won't you, darling?" "Geh, Judsedov."

Rahgot doesn't know what the Dovahkiin says to Odahviing, but his god calls the fahlil the Queen of the Dov. The Queen.

His last thought was that she was already a goddess, and Odahviing, a god in his own right, was her loyal priest.

Froda's laughter is the last thing Rahgot hears over the rumble of the dovah's throat and the crunch of his own bones.

When the mask falls to the floor, bereft of its priest, it is several long minutes before Leara can muster the strength to retrieve it. Even then, Odahviing offers his head to help support her, and he guides her across the floor.

Picking it up, Leara fingers the cold orichalcum, tired.

"What happened?" "Well . . ."

She trailed off, warm and comfortable against Odahviing but embarrassed to continue. At Odahviing's gentle huff, she relents.

"He caught me off guard. I tried to stand on the coffin for leverage, and then the bloody lich tripped me up." "Lech." "What was that?" "Nothing, Kunziiyol."

Sighing, Leara turns her face into the warmth of Odahviing's snout.

"Let's go home."

Guiding the Dragonborn to the safe hollow at the base of his neck, Odahviing takes flight, leaving the ruins of Forelhost and the Dragon Cult behind.

"Drat, I forgot about the Word Wall!" "Ruth, vahdin."

fin

[hitwiththetmnt]

Dunno if Tumblr is gonna keep the boops, and I have to go to sleep, so have a last boop from me :>

*boop*

I humbly accept the last boop ~ your journey shall be remembered

[pinkniz]

"Fighting to his heart's content and killing were wonderful relaxing activities for Freddy"

[zephyrqueen]

Complaining about a game while actively buying microtransactions or subscriptions for it is like paying to fucked in the ass then complaining they didn't let you give them a bj as well.

[desertleviathan]

So I've been working on my FFXIV housing, in my ongoing attempt to accumulate as many house spaces as possible on one server. My main character's private house, his apartment, and my FC's house are now complete. I still need to finish my main character's FC room, and I also have seven other alts on this server who have FC rooms and private apartments that I need to finish. But for now, here's the info about the parts I've finished!

These aren't super sophisticated builds, no glitching or floating or anything, but I like how they turned out and wouldn't mind seeing a few more guest book posts.

APARTMENT: Aether Data Center -> Sargatanas Server -> Mist (Limsa Lominsa) -> Ward 27 -> Topmast Wing 1 -> Room 1 THE CHOWDER SLUICE is... a place you can eat, if you're dead broke, lost a bet, or you're too drunk to recognize where you've wound up. "Until Sea Swallows All-You-Can-Eat!"

PRIVATE HOUSE: Aether Data Center -> Sargatanas Server -> Empyreum (Ishgard) -> Ward 26 -> Plot 30

NIDHOPPS is Ishgard's first Dragonsong War-themed Craft Brewery. And probably its last, since that's an idea with just about zero cultural sensitivity. It is also one of Siege's secret "calamity bunkers", places he's set up around the star as secure retreats with accommodations for refugees, where he could direct some non-combatants to duck down and hide until he and the Scions are able to figure out a solution the next time the sky is literally falling.

FREE COMPANY HOUSE: Aether Data Center -> Sargatanas Server -> Mist (Limsa Lominsa) -> Ward 6 -> Plot 60

Finally, the centerpiece of the big project, MOGARITAVILLE is a family-friendly restaurant (with the more relaxed Siren's Grotto bistro downstairs and the upscale Crow's Nest lounge upstairs) on the Limsa Lominsa seaside that is really just a front for the Amaranthine Maw pirate crew.

The plan is to use Siege and my other seven alts to fill in the pirate crew's base via their FC rooms, but I need to take a little time to let my ravaged gil total recover before undertaking that effort.

[emily232x]

Siege - Ambience Synesthesia 2024