#the frontline of the century

[toestalucia]

btw kaitlyn provided the icon update. YIPPE @shiningstages

[whats-in-a-sentence]

The Hackett-Lowther all-female Ambulance Unit, which was established in 1917 by Norah Desmond Hackett and May 'Toupie' Lowther. They acquired vehicles and recruited women before departing for the frontline in France. The British army would not use the women's unit, and instead they joined the French Third Army for nearly three years of wartime service.

"Normal Women: 900 Years of Making History" - Philippa Gregory

[radioactive-cloud]

third massive drone and missile attack in four days that was launched at 4-5 am, how i love living next to a terrorist country 😍

[likeabxrdinflight]

Hello may I interest you in a new chapter of fanfiction:

[iberiancadre]

first the holocaust was turned into the project of a sole madman who had an entire country under a spell, which suddenly vanished at the stroke of a pen when peace was signed, rather than being a continuation of centuries of scapegoating and antisemitism, enabled by western capital, direct funding to the Nazi party in some cases like the British aristocracy's, with the purpose of creating a massive slave workforce and to boost the German economy via looting, expropiation and a reduction in the worker population, an economy that had been reeling since WWI and propped up by directing all jobless people to work in the arms industry.

then, the (incomplete) victory over european fascism (don't look at Spain and Portugal and Greece) was methodically distanced from the true victors, the soviet people. They suffered an invasion and destruction of the majority of their industrial base, save for the industry relocated to the east, more than 20 million dead soviet workers who pushed the fascists from Moscow to Berlin, ending in an artillery barrage the magnitudes of which had never been seen, the symbolic raising of the red banner over the Reichstag and an enveloping of the city that forced many nazi officials to commit suicide. It was also forgotten how the Yugoslavs liberated themselves, managing to keep fascist forces constantly tied up during the war, how the Italian partisans captured Mussolini and hung him in public, the many uprisings throughout Europe and the concentration camps before the frontline reached them, the exiled brigadiers and republicans who first fought fascism in Spain and was later forced to fight fascism again, unable to return to their homes and under threat of being imprisoned. The indigenous resistance against colonialism in east and north Africa and southwest Asia, and the tens of millions Chinese, Vietnamese, Lao, Cambodian, Malaysians, Indonesians, Papuans, Thais, Bengalese, Indians, Filipinos, etc, who suffered both Japanese and western occupation. All of these struggles forgotten and erased, reduced to the USamerican, British, and sometimes French armies. Armies who advanced to witness a fraction of the suffering enabled and financed by their own states barely a decade prior. Even minor members of the western allies, such as Brazil, are often forgotten.

After the Holocaust was reduced to an unexpected and unprecedented event with no connection to reality, and after the struggle against fascism was reduced to the involvement of two or three countries, barely any fascists were punished. Anyone who wasn't a top official could claim to be simply following orders, even someone as important like Speer used this defence, he was allowed to live free and publish an autobiography in which he paints himself as the good Nazi, the mere architect caught up in a madman's rise. As if he ignored the plans for a future Berlin would be built by slave labor from the concentration camps, as if the minister of armaments from 1942 to the end did not know about the reliance companies like Krupp or Volkswagen had on slave labor. As if he didn't listen to Goebbels' speeches about total war and extermination and did not understand his armaments would be used. Some fascists were even integrated into the scientific and military spheres of the western allies, others given citizenship and a cushy home in places like Canada. Japanese fascists who had experimented on and tortured countless Chinese and Korean civilians and POWs to research chemical warfare were offered amnesty in exchange for the knowledge they gained doing these experiments. After German reunification, more eastern queer people were imprisoned than fascists were incarcerated or executed at the Nürnberg trials.

After fascists were exonerated and shamelessly integrated into the western states, and after some time passed, the war was turned into a cultural product. Countless war movies were produced, almost always showing usamerican soldiers in the European or Pacific front fighting a mindless horde with hakenkrauzs on their armbands all lead by a single man, or group of men, ontologically evil. It was too complex to examine the actual reasons for the war. Hitler was simply a charismatic devil who had duped Germany into following him (crucially, he was only charismatic for germans. No true American patriot fell for his tricks). Gradually, the figure of Hitler was transformed into a devil in human form who had appeared in München in 1932 to cause evil and fight freedom.

As a result, German fascism and the Holocaust are nothing more but a historical fact you look at with morbid curiosity, to feel disgust, maybe anger, and sigh in relief that it would never happen again. There is no reflection on how it was allowed to happen, how antisemitism was used, like it had commonly been used throughout history, to blame for economic downturn and how the expropriation of jewish property, the enslavement of other minorities alongside them (Slavs, non-jewish poles, homosexuals, roma, communists...) and the rapid stimulation of a military industry was used to save an recessing economy. No examination of how the Nazi party appealed to the German petit-bourgeoisie and monopolies like the aforementioned Krupp, Volkswagen, or IG Farben, by attacking communists and trade unionists, who were beginning to organize at a bigger scale and actually threaten german capitalists. Instead, some even try to paint the nazis as communists or as similar to them, through terms like totalitarianism, which was popularized by Hannah Arendt, a fascist sympathiser who also saw fit to label decolonial struggles as totalitarian.

Even more insidious than this is how Hitler has been mutated into a shorthand for evil, an entity beyond a single man who personifies the collective hatred of minorities by Europeans, a condensation of centuries of hatred and exploitation into an angry man between 1932 and 1945. By doing this we can rest easy knowing there will never be another Hitler because we are so civil now. It was Hitler's speeches that guided every SS member's hand to execute tens of thousands. It was Goebbels' propaganda that clouded the judgment of the millions of Wehrmacht soldiers who looted and massacred their way through Europe. It was Himmler's threat that coerced countless germans to spy and tattle on their neighbors. It was Göring who convinced the Luftwaffe pilots to bomb and terrorize civilians. It was Dönitz who made the Kriegsmarine target civilian ships and ruthlessly pursue trade convoys. And it was ultimately Hitler who controlled these men, and no German had free will or political conviction between 1932 and 1945.

The peak of this attitude I see most in the internet: Do you want to learn about Hitler's Bunker? Hitler's enormous artillery pieces? Hitler's train? Hitler's plans? Hitler's wife? Hitler's army? Hitler's rise through the party? Hitler's veganism? Hitler's dog? Hitler's car? Hitler's Germania? Hitler's camps? Hitler's possible escape? Hitler's military career? Hitler's architecture? Hitler's political maneuvering in the interwar? Hitler, Hitler, Hitler. Nobody wants to deal with the fact that Hitler was not omnipotent or omnipresent. He and his party was supported by German and western capital to oppose worker organization and to give an outlet to social tension around the inflating currency and failing economy. Just like in Italy and just like in Spain. Hitler is a cultural product sold to liberals so they can be reassured that they would never become evil. No liberal democracy has ever put an entire minority into concentration camps, no liberal democracy has ever used Zyklon B on dispossessed people, no liberal democracy has ever looted a conquered nation, no liberal democracy has ever killed workers for unionizing, no liberal democracy has ever used nationalism and supremacism to rally popular support, and a long etcetera.

[thelittleukrainianwell-armedgirl]

"On 7th of January Ukrainian poet Maksym Kryvtsov and his ginger cat were killed by rssian army on the frontline. He was 33 years old. He was writing poems about the war and his loyal cat friend, while protecting his homeland. He could create so much if russia would not start this unjust horror.

Every time something inside me dies when I see news like this. Every Ukrainian from the beginning of their time in school learns about Executed Renaissance - when on the beginning of 20th century a lot of Ukrainian artists, writers, poets were chased and executed by Soviet Union for creating works in Ukrainian and expressing their national identity. Now it’s happening again, same evil, but under different flag. Besides occupation of our land russia also often talks about how Ukraine is fake country with fake language, they burn our books on occupied territories, mock us, our POWs for the fact we’re ukrainian. They were mocking us even before the invasion, I grew up with watching it on social medias myself. And now a lot of authors can’t create because of the war, russia kills them on frontlines, in their homes, russia purposefully targets objects of civilian infrastructure to leave us without heat and electricity. It pisses me off every time when I see russian “culture” being praised by the foreigners, knowing that it’s made on blood of other nations. Either 100 years ago or now. Because while russian authors can live and create, we have fight for our survival.

Before being killed by russia Maksym published his last poem, where he told about how his body will grow as violets after his death. Every time it’s hard to draw something about the war, I feel literally empty afterwards but I just felt it would be right thing to do. It’s awful that our artists have to go through all of this, so damn unfair, and I keep telling myself that justice is waiting for them but I can’t even imagine what has to happen, everything feels not enough.

Please support Ukrainian authors, until it’s too late."

(c) @ fate_221

[slavghoul]

Interview from Metal Hammer 8/2023

LIFE LESSONS from TOBIAS FORGE

Shock rock, bad glam bands and wanting to be Venom: inside the brain of Ghost's benevolent overlord

Tobias Forge is the mastermind behind one of the 21st century's hottest metal bands, but even he’ll admit that success was a long time in the making. Hailing from the Swedish city of Linköping, the Ghost frontman dabbled in everything from death metal to glam before donning the iconic Papal attire and paint to transform into Papa Emeritus, transcending his roots to become a larger-than-life character. Here are the key parables he has to share, gleaned from more than 25 years on the heavy metal frontlines.

MUSIC AND MOVIES ARE GATEWAYS TO OTHER WORLDS

“Linköping was a nice city to grow up in. It wasn’t so small you felt like you were cramped in a village, but it’s small enough that you’d still want to eventually move somewhere else. You’d have access to all these gateways to other worlds through the record stores and the local video store. My dreams started there - everything I do now, I dreamt back there.”

I WAS A TEENAGE HEADBANGER

“I had a teenage brother growing up, so I had a free pass into teenage culture. Whatever they consumed, I got a whiff of - how they dressed, what they watched on TV, what films they rented... The lifestyle and expression that meant most to me was shock rock. Twisted Sister were a wrecking ball into my life with I Wanna Rock. That song made me want to bounce!”

THE HEAVIER IT GOT, THE DEEPER I WANTED TO GO

“When I first heard Candlemass, I was eight and I was blown away. I already liked Black Sabbath, Metallica and Motorhead through my brother, but Candlemass were local and sounded so heavy, it was like doomsday. King Diamond and Candlemass served as a segue for me to discover death metal and black metal in the early 90s. It became my calling. From the ages of 12 to 22, I spent my life in death and black metal bands.”

FOLLOW YOUR HEART (AND SOMETIMES YOUR WALLET)

“My mom is from Stockholm, so when I was 15 and started saying I wanted to move there, she was just like ‘Finish mandatory school’ and we moved together [after I graduated]. I moved back to Linköping when I was 25, because Stockholm is a big metropolitan place and it’s not fun living in those places if you don’t have money. Now I’m in Stockholm again; it’s more fun now I can afford it!”

HEAD IN THE CLOUDS, FEET ON THE GROUND

“I learned the hard way in the late 90s that wanting to play 80s-inspired death metal with my band Repugnant was     painfully out of touch with what was going on at the time. It broke my heart; I wanted us to be signed to Roadrunner and support Slayer. That never happened unfortunately - or perhaps fortunately, as it kept me grounded for a few more years and if those things had happened maybe I wouldn't be here today.”

TAKE CHANCES, BUT STAND YOUR GROUND

“Repugnant had a close shave with success. We signed to the label Hammerheart, which at the time felt like we’d made it because the first thing they did was take us out on our first tour, supporting the American band Macabre. They were a favourite band of ours - still are, and whenever we play Chicago they come to the shows - and at that point it felt like we might be going somewhere, but we quickly parted ways with Hammerheart because we couldn’t agree. It felt like our chance and we’d blown it.”

NOT ALL 80S BANDS WERE CREATED EQUAL

“With Crashdiet, we never really went beyond our home. I can’t say how many shows we did, but I don’t think it was more than a handful. For me especially there was conflict with the singer, Dave Lepard. We were friends, but he clearly wanted to take his band into some sort of glam-sleaze direction, whereas when I think of ‘glam’ I’m more Hanoi Rocks and Guns N’ Roses - never, ever the other bands. I know Poison kinda came before a lot of the latecomers, but to me they were repellent. Dave wanted to go all neon and I wanted it so that if we were glam, we’d be Hanoi Rocks meets Lords Of The New Church or The Dead Boys. I don’t want to be fucking Stryper! Fuck that!”

THERE’S NO POINT TRYING TO FOLLOW FASHION

“It was a confusing time in the early 2000s – rock was all of a sudden in fashion because of bands like Franz Ferdinand and Kaiser Chiefs. Everyone was always looking for the next big rock band and in Sweden The Hives were huge, as were The Soundtrack Of Our Lives, The Hellacopters, Backyard Babies...so many rock bands! But there we were in Subvision, influenced by The Dead Boys, with a little-too-long hair, leather jackets, just a little too ‘metal’... yuck! You’re supposed to be more indie; heavy metal is about having the biggest dick and indie is the opposite.”

FIRST IMPRESSIONS REALLY DO COUNT

“I hated The Strokes when they first came out. Back then, everyone described them as being so natural, that they weren’t interested in being rock stars, and I was like, ‘No. They didn’t wake up looking like that.' They chose to do that to be rock stars. And they can really play! Then when First Impressions Of Earth came out it was like, ‘There you go! That's what they really sound like! After that, I loved The Strokes, because they were showing they actually did love the music, but a lot of indie rockers treated it like it was their sell-out record.”

HAVE A VISION IN MIND

“Ghost started with a song, Stand By Him, which ultimately came out on our first record. I wrote it spontaneously, as an experiment - almost a joke, if you will, in 2006. When I recorded it the first time, I had no equipment in my home, so I had to go to a friend’s house. We did this very rough demo. He said it was great. He’d been in Subvision, Repugnant and Crashdiet with me, but we’d stopped playing together. He was like, ‘Can we form a new band?’ and I was like, ‘This song is the only thing I have. If I can come up with two more songs and there’s a pattern, then of course.’ But they needed to be as playful and spontaneous, and sure enough they were.”

PRESSURE CAN DO WONDERS

“Around 2008, when Ghost were first getting properly started, my girlfriend told me she was pregnant with twins. I never said it out loud, but I was preparing for my dream not coming true - maybe I wouldn’t become a rock star, I’d never be successful... So I had to at least have something that I could live with, a hobby that I could feel strongly about and get all my inclinations filtered through. I wanted to play metal, but also write pop music, have this horror rock show with theatre... Still taking inspiration from Venom pictures in 1982 where they looked like bikers surrounded by smoke and red lights. Ghost felt like a combination of all those things. Lo and behold, when I didn’t have all the time in the world, like I had before and gotten nowhere, when I could only put so much effort in, everything changed.”

THE MYTHOS IS NICE, BUT ONLY THE MUSIC MATTERS

“It was so weird, being threatened with a ‘reveal’ [Tobias’s public identity was revealed after ex-members took legal action against him in 2017I, as if people knowing who I was would be such a turn-off that they’d never listen to Ghost again. Here I am, most of my life wanting to be known, but then I was fighting to be unknown? What a paradox!”

ROLL WITH THE PUNCHES

“I’ve always tried to be like a general – have a goal, like, ‘Let’s take that castle’, but knowing that things can change in the field. You need to conduct yourself with a certain level of elasticity. I know I’m a control freak and want things to be done in a certain way, but I’m also aware things never work out that way.”

CHALLENGE YOURSELF

“One of the biggest weaknesses with modern metal - and horror - is that it’s being created and curated by people who only like that thing, so it becomes regurgitation. The best horror movies I’ve seen - Jaws, Bram Stoker’s Dracula, The Exorcist, The Omen - were made by people who never made horror films elsewhere. They wouldn’t limit themselves. If you don’t like other things, that’s fine, but if you ever feel stuck creatively it might just be that you’re sticking too close to home. I can’t even imagine just sticking to one lane these days.”

[astralcentralstation]

Worldbuilding H/C: Soulmates

So this will be just be the general head-canons about how the different cultures in HSR would be structures in a soulmate AU (alias how soulmates influenced laws and cultures), and how the playable characters view them. I will later add a image for each character. When we are induced to new cultures in the game i might add a part 2 to this.

Soulmates are general confirmed and accepted, nobody is really denying that they exist. But depending on who your soulmate is you might find stark differences in how they will view you and what is expected of you. For given that soulmates are confirmed for centuries, this knowledge shaped societies -some in culture, some even in law. Each planet has they own way of doing this.

Overall it is believed that the soulmate marks where blessing send out by the Aeons, a gift that all of them send out in junction. These soulmates have three parts; The first is Sign -a physical mark on the body -each match have a tattoo that both of them have since birth, absolute matching one-another in shape and placement. Second is Recognition -there is a instinctive bond between soulmates to protect and trust. Not enough to control once actions, but enough to sway the undecided. Hereby it doesn't matter if they even know their soulmate is involved -if for example a ship is in danger, and a soulmate has a match on that ship without knowing or any indications, the soulmate will lean towards protecting the ship. The last is different for each race; Protection will give what a match needs to stay together. If one soulmate ages slower than the other, their match will age normally till they reach the physical age of their soulmate, then have their aging slow down to the same space. If a soulmates race has a special ability like breathing under water or immunity to fire, then that will carry over.

In Belebog soulmates rarely found each other, what with the Eternal Freeze and later even with the ban between Under- and Overworld. Therefore people will be pretty open to marry somebody who is not their soulmate. That is if you haven't meet or have already lost their soulmate. If someone were to pursue someone else while their match is right next to them it would still turn some confused heads. But it isn't unheard of. Still, finding your match is considered special. The Landau Siblings, Gepard and Serval are a bit out the norm, wanting to wait for their soulmates. They haven't mentioned it to their parents, neither wanting to deal with the backlash and pressure to continue the family line -in fact they haven't even told each other. As for Bronya a romantic partner had not even been on the table till her soulmate shows up. From there on she feels lost, she doesn't want to let go of this possibility, but she also have no idea what to do with a soulmate. Others who would be blindsided by a match showing up where Natasha and Seele. Nat doesn't think she deserves a soulmate, her match has to convince her to give them a chance. Seele meanwhile had regarded finding a match as a fairy tale scenario, highly unlikely -even if she claimed to wait for them to stop her admirers. It was only a line, you know. Sampo is open-minded to finding a soulmate, but isn't searching or waiting. Pela used to believe she would find her soulmate and was ready to fight for that. Then she was sent to the frontlines of the Eternal Freeze and decided to give up and focus on reality.

(Characters: Gepard Serval Bronya Natasha Seele Sampo)

People of the Xianzhou Alliance are the complete opposite. They believe that matches are scared and married from birth. It is not only outlawed, but unthinkable to be with anyone outside the Bond. Soulmates are often refers to as Kindreds. Found matches will usually move together that very same day. Exceptions are made for kids, in which case they will have constantly alternating sleepovers. Xianzhou and Foxians share they longevity with they matches, while Vidyadhara share they reincarnation-cycle ability. One would think that make it easier to find their match, and really each ship has they citizens register their Signs and there is open communications to help everyone find their spouse. But there is also a danger in that; matches are thought to be one of mind. Which means if a crime is committed, both soulmates receive the sentence. So if your aging acts up be careful, you don't know what your soulmate was up to. 'You didn't know' will not hold in front of their laws. However if you are the soulmate of Jing Yuan, Fu Xuan or Yukong, it's up to school with you. As their Kindred you are considered their second in command and must learn their people's law and train in combat. Yanqing's soulmate will face similar, but as he is still in training himself, it will be more relaxed. Each of them will of course be with you every step of the way. Sushang is currently searching for you. Tingyun is content to wait for you, she collets trinkets over the years to gift you when you finally meet. Qingque has only just returned from a Search so she is currently focusing on her own life, but she has diaries about her searches she plans to gift her soulmate. Loucha is more a nomad, so he doesn't consider you his spouse yet and fully plans to woe you off your feet, but he has high regard for the soulmate traditions of the Xianzhou and might be quickly influenced by them. Just keep in mind to set boundaries early with any of them, they respect you to much to overstep even if those boundaries are things they are unfamiliar with.

(Characters: Jing Yuan Fu Xuan Yukong Yanqing Sushang Tingyun Qingque Loucha)

Space-Nomads have an interesting case where either each member of the group stays true to their home world's culture or a group has developed their own soulmate culture while traveling together. Other space nomads go with a mix of the two. But overall they experienced enough other cultures that they will have no problem adjusting to their soulmate's culture.

The Nameless mostly go by their home-world's culture, mainly since the culture that Pom-Pom says used to exist on the Express died before Himeko rediscovered said train. Still there are things they picked up from the conductor. Like calling Soulmates 'Soulcompasses' or just one's 'Compass'. Also, Pom-Pom considers each Nameless' match another guest of the Express and will cry if they don't board and travel with them. March 7 pretty much adopted his approach since she has no homeworld-culture to fall back on; in her mind a couple could take as long as they wanted to get together, as long both trailblazed together. Himeko is close to this ideal as well, but she wouldn't pressure someone into coming along. She can always visit with stories and souvenirs in tow. Her homeworld-culture teaches that no relationship is to be taken for granted, you don't own your soulmate, and sometimes they don't work out and that is okay. Welt is undecided on the tropic of soulmates, he has seen a lot. A soulmate is kind of unreal, but he won't push you away. The people of his world believe soulmates always work, but sometimes they don't work out right away. People are shaped by experiences. This means that at times matches can know each other for before they klick or even like each other. That being said he would never let anything happen to you if he could prevent it. Dan Heng has no problem connecting his heritage with the Express traditions, but from his experience traveling different worlds decides to give his 'Kindred Compass' the control on how fast the relationship goes. That said he is desperately hunting for his soulmate. Who knows what happen if they go to Loufu searching for him? He has to find them to at least warn them. The Trailblazer meanwhile, having no culture to remember, just adopts everybody's culture. Soulmates confuse them, but finding one's compass is good, yes?

(Characters Himeko Welt Yang March 7 Dan Heng Stelle Caelus)

Then you have the Stellaron Hunters. These guys are okay to play around or even marry prior to meeting their soulmate. But once they do, whatever relationship they had prior is over. No buts. Given how much they deal with the 'script', they will know when they will meet you and be ready a day or two early. They call the day of the meeting Destiny Call. Kafka confused everyone by bringing flowers to a fight the day she was to meet you. Silver Wolf thinks that is coming on too strong, but still makes sure to look her best on her Destiny Call. In contrast Blade will try to get a rise out of his soulmate the first time you meet. In his mind, his Fated One should know what they are getting into. They do take their other half a tad for granted, but that doesn't mean their aren't prepared to woe you for years to come.

(Characters: Kafka Silver Wolf Blade)

Now the crew of Herta's Space-Station all exclusively go by their home-world traditions. Except Herta herself. Herta has a pop-quiz ready that she will jump at you the moment she knows that you are her soulmate and make a plan based on your answers. Asta's world is neutral towards soulmates, but you only ever gift pearls or chocolate to a soulmate. So a relationship with her would be pretty normal. Except she won't stand for anyone giving you chocolate or you giving cholate out, not even to kids. Arlan has a plan on how to woe his soulmate -it goes flying out of the window the second he meets you. At his home planet you place your soulmate first before everything. There are laws against hurting one's soulmate, so he takes this very serious. Also, unlike some planets, Signs are thought as intimate, usually covered up. So if his soulmate were to show them off, he would be a blushing mess.

(Characters: Herta Asta Arlan)

[comparison-anxiety]

The War in Ukraine didn’t “magically go away”

💙💛 REBLOG IF YOU AGREE TO SPREAD AWARENESS 💙💛

Here’s your daily reminder that the war in Ukraine is STILL GOING ON, and hasn’t stopped. And that people are being KILLED. Our own family lost family friends on the frontlines.

russia has been trying to exterminate Ukrainians for centuries. All the Czar’s suppression, the Soviets making a man-made famine that killed MILLIONS - Holodomor, the start of the war in 2014..

But now on the cusp of life and death of a nation, culture, and people, everyone is ignoring us because Israel is throwing a tantrum with the United States to back it. America just forgot about Ukraine as soon as their poor poor Israel needed some help smashing 'the worthless arabs' to make more room for 'the good christians/jews'.

The Palestine situation is very bad but can we not ignore the bloody conflict in my home country that has been going on since 2014, with full our war for over two years? I’ve met some people who didn’t know it was still going on, and it really broke me.

Just a few weeks ago my mom got a call that one of her oldest colleagues, a surgeon working on the front lines, had been killed by the russians. She was crying so hard. And then I meet people who don’t know the war is still going on and I want to scream.

Please don’t let this die. Please don’t forget us. We need your support.

Слава Україні, Героїв слава. (Slava Ukrayini, Heroyim slava)

Glory to Ukraine, glory to the Heroes.

[marvelmusing]

By Your Side

From the Light & Love AU

Pairing: Sun Summoner!Aleksander Morozova x Darkling!Fem!Reader

Summary: As the days go by, you learn more about your sun summoner and make steps to bring him closer to you.

Warnings: brief reference to abuse

My Masterlist

A nightmare wakes you. Heart hammering in your chest, lungs frantically scrambling for air as you breathe erratically. Sweat clings to your skin, clammy and uncomfortable. Pushing the covers away from your body, your hands are shaking with the adrenaline from your dream.

There’s a soft knock at your door.

“Moi soverenyi?”

A familiar voice. Ivan. The heartrender posted at your door tonight must have heard your heart rate spike.

“I’m fine, Ivan.”

Tears begin to blur at your vision, emotion lodging in your throat as you fight against your body, willing yourself to breathe normally so that you won’t attract the attention of your heartrenders.

There’s another, more tentative, knock at your door. Frustrated, you slip out of bed, tugging open the door.

“I said I’m fine, Ivan,” you snap harshly, exhaustion wearing at your usually moderate temper. The sight of your sun summoner, wearing a pair of sleep shorts and a loose shirt, his hair ruffled rather adorably, disarms you somewhat. “Aleksander?”

He fidgets with his sleeves, pushing them up to his elbows.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have disturbed you.”

Instantly, you shake your head, tired mind too busy drinking in the sight of him to think properly.

“It’s quite alright. Is something the matter?”

“I had a nightmare,” he admits quietly. Opening your door wider, you tilt your head, gesturing towards your bed.

“Come in.”

He doesn’t hesitate to accept your request and you smile as you close the door behind him. When you turn to look at Aleksander, you find him hovering somewhat awkwardly beside your bed. His shyness makes your smile widen.

“Would you like to sleep with me tonight?” you ask softly.

He swallows hard.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

Seeing Aleksander settled in your bed soothes something inside you. He will always be safest beside you. He smiles shyly at you, tucking his arm beneath your pillow as he turns on his side to face you. Neither one of you attempt to look away from one another, prompting you to whisper,

“Could I ask you something?”

He nods.

“Why didn’t the Grisha testers find you when you were younger?”

If they had, it would have undoubtably changed the dynamic between the two of you. Aleksander would have grow up at the Little Palace. He would have seen you as a mentor and you would have watched him grow into a man that is painfully similar to the one you lost all those centuries ago. It would have hurt you, but he would have been safe and well fed, allowed to use his power.

“The test doesn’t work if you’re already in pain,” he says. “My mother’s punishments meant that the test never worked on me.”

At Aleksander’s confession, your heart leaps into your throat. No wonder he joined the First Army before the age of conscription.

“Healers are supposed to examine every child and attend to them if they’re injured, so that they can be tested.”

He shrugs lightly.

“I didn’t know that. They never did.”

“Aleksander, I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head minutely, a frown of confusion creasing between his brows.

“It isn’t your fault.”

“It is. I should have gone with the testers to ensure it was done properly.”

“You can’t go to every town in Ravka with the testers. Not if you also need to be on the frontline with your soldiers, and manage things at the Little Palace, and attend meetings with the king.”

Once again, his perception surprises you.

“You’ve been watching me.”

“It’s hard to not notice you.” The words seem to tumble out of him without thought and your heart skips a beat at his honest admission.

“Is it?” you ask softly.

He blushes.

“Well, you’re the only one who wears black so I suppose that makes you stands out.”

“I suppose,” you concede.

A small smile quirks at the corner of your lips as you stare up at the ceiling, giving him some reprieve from his embarrassment.

He likes me. Those three words dance gleefully around in your mind, clouding over every other thought. He likes me. After years of being distrusted and loathed and feared, being liked feels like a drug.

»»---------------------►

“I see your training with Botkin has been fruitful. A vast improvement from when you first arrived here.”

Aleksander turns, grinning at you as he wipes at his bare back with a cloth. His eyes are alight with victory, after beating both Zoya and Sergei back to back in the combat ring. He gives you a small bow, inclining his head politely and heat creeps up your neck.

“Thank you, moi soverenyi.”

He speaks your title earnestly. The title you had fashioned for yourself with whatever scraps of respect you could gather from the otkazat’sya. Saints, you want to kiss him, right here and now, in front of his entire cohort. The youngsters love to gossip, by the end of the day everyone would know that you had kissed the sun summoner.

As much as you want to, you aren’t ready for the world to know how much he means to you. Not after what happened all those centuries ago. The people won’t accept their Sun Saint being loved by a Darkling.

“Is there a reason why my lessons with Baghra have been replaced with combat lessons and sessions in the library?” he asks, reaching for his shirt and pulling it over his head.

“Yes. I was hoping to have cleared my schedule before you noticed the change.”

“Your schedule?”

You nod.

“Baghra won’t be tutoring you anymore. You deserve a better teacher than her, and I plan to do my best by you.”

He lifts his head up, tightening the strings at the front of his shirt.

“You’re going to be teaching me.”

You nod again with a soft smile.

“Yes.”

»»---------------------►

“What’s this?”

Aleksander lifts the lid of the chest slightly, frowning in curiosity at the copious amount of tulle spilling out. The flash of blue and yellow from inside the chest makes you grimace as you answer him from your place at the war table.

“My dress for the winter fete.”

He turns to look at you, surprise touching his features.

“May I see it?”

You nod passively.

“If you would like to.”

He opens up the chest, reaching for the wretched garment. The dress is a gaudy yellow, with blue embroidery over the waistline and at the hem of each tier in the skirt. Genya has done her best to alter the dress, adding some golden embroidery and glistening gems to the bodice to make it more ornate and refined.

“It’s lovely.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

He turns back to you.

“You don’t like it?”

“For the winter fete, the king imposes a strict dress code. All female Grisha must wear dresses - the colour of their order. The men can wear their keftas.”

After turning your pen over in your hands for a moment, you place it down slowly and lean back in your chair to look at Aleksander.

“But I am not permitted to wear my kefta or my colour. I am dressed in cheap silks and Lantsov colours to remind me that I am the property of the crown.”

Aleksander discards the dress, tucking it back into the chest with slightly less care than when he had first picked it up. He then moves over towards you, sitting down in the seat by your side. His fingers curl around your wrist, circling his thumb over the sensitive skin of your forearm.

“I think you will look beautiful in anything,” he murmurs quietly. Unable to stop yourself, you place your hand over his, giving him a soft squeeze before you whisper,

“Thank you, Aleksander.”

»»---------------------►

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[drdemonprince]

Why is hope prevalent & widespread among those at the frontlines of the struggle but often scarce among those at the peripheries who are shielded? I think it comes down to individualism and colonial values. Resistance movements give me hope. Across history, in the face of brutal systemic violence, people have always fought for freedom and the right to love— each other, the land, their diverse cultures, & ancestors. Communities have dismantled entire empires. It took generations of unyielding resistance. It took a lot of faith, conviction and belief in a free future. It took decades & often centuries of work but people freed themselves. They always have. What can we learn from them? Hope is not a feeling generated by an individual from within. Hope is a flame that is intentionally co-created in community that then permeates & passes through us all. Hope, happiness, joy, contentment, safety, meaning, purpose, motivation, creativity, etc are all things an individual cannot independently generate in isolation even if colonial logic convinces you otherwise. Hope is a fire that is tended to and kept alive by the collective efforts of many. Just like any life-giving, life-sustaining energy that circulates within an ecosystem, we depend on each other to have hope. Like survival, hope is a collective responsibility, not an individual burden. We have to play our role in seeking out community where such hope can be co-created. The struggle to forge community in itself is a journey with a million hopeful moments that can only exist alongside painful teaching moments. As long as we run from the struggle, hope will remain just as inaccessible.

another wonderful piece from Ayesha Khan!

[da-shrimping-station]

Andrealphus with a human!SO who's curious about his scars

gender-neutral reader | slightly suggestive | mentions of sex and nudity | he calls his SO darling as an endearment | nonsexual intimacy (for the most part ig?)

MINORS DNI

i will take your kidneys 🧡

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────

He can feel them staring intensely. It doesn't bother him the slightest, given that he's received far more hostile glares, but that doesn't mean he's not curious. It's rare for his darling to look at him like that.

"Is there something wrong?"

Andrealphus turned to where they are, senses acute enough to locate them despite their quiet. There was a rustle of cloth and soon enough a body pressed against his.

"You have a lot of scars..."

"Do they bother you?"

He was never one for vanity, before or after being blind. What only mattered was that he was, at the very least, clothed. Even when he became one of Niflheim's nobles. Black did well with bloodstains and a simple suit was all he needed. A tie was out of the question because no matter how much he practiced, he somehow could never get it right. And the only reason that he bothered to braid his hair was because it could be a liability in battle, what with getting tangled or grabbed if he let it be.

So, appearances were the least of his concerns. So long as his body functioned well enough to fight, that's all that mattered.

"They don't bother me," they reassured. "It's just that, seeing them makes me realise what you went through."

Their fingers gently tapped at his wrist before holding his hand.

"I never really cared for the scars." For the majority of his existence, all Andrealphus did was fight. "The doctors from Paradise Lost can't say no to me when I ask for their assistance."

He's a model patient to them, following orders and recommendations to hasten his recovery. Rushing things would be a detriment in battle.

There had been times when he'd been too zealous with fighting and outright disregarding his physical state in order to fulfill his bloodlust. It cost him and his comrades dearly.

Gusion's rant and Bathin's disapproving comments still ring in his ears to this day. Yet they still helped him, dragging him back to where Marbas was in order to receive proper treatment. He made sure to express his thanks by staying put and actually listening to the doctor.

"Still," his darling insisted, snuggling closer to him. "It makes me sad, I guess? That you had to go experience such pain. I know you can handle it and that you've gone through worse but..."

The pair sat in silence, the mid afternoon sun filtering through the window and the sheets rumpled over their bare lap.

Andrealphus thinks he understands. Humans are delicate after all and Niflheim demons are the hardiest of devils in Hell, followed by those of Tartaros. Not to mention he is a noble to boot. Suffice to say, his body can take a lot before he's down for the count. Yet he also understands their concern, he thinks. They've never interacted with devils before they got to Hell and what knowledge they have of its residents are only surface level.

Maybe he should accept Gusion's offer of tutoring his darling about the norms and cultures in Hell. There was also a suggestion from Bathin to give them basic training for self defense.

Maybe.

Are his scars that unsightly that his darling would go so far as to point it out? It's not that he's unaware of them. They're just a fact of life, given that the entirety of Hell was at war for a century now and he was constantly on the frontline.

"Are they that unsightly?" Enough for them to point it out?

"No. Not the slightest. In fact," they trailed off, sounding a little hesitant. "I find them attractive."

"Oh, I have no doubt towards that," Andrealphus said with a chuckle. "If I remember correctly, you jumped on me the first time you saw me shirtless—oof!"

His darling punched him lightly (to him at least), as they grumbled in embarrassment. He wrapped his arms around them, pulling them in for a kiss. They still haven't cleaned up from earlier activities, thought that's the least of his concerns right now. Not when his darling kisses him back with equal fervor and adoration.

"Andrea–" They gasped, moaning as Andrealphus set his eager mouth to their chest. Such music to his ears. "C-can I touch your– Ah! Your scars–"

Their nails dug into his shoulders, trying to steady themself as he set them on his lap properly. He growled as they yanked at his hair, halting his onslaught so they can catch their breath.

"Can I?" They asked, breath ragged and a face flushed.

"You can touch wherever," he said, giving them one last kiss as reassurance. He let them settle on his lap properly and patiently waited.

Hesitant fingers traced along his right bicep. He knew there was a scar there having touched it when he bathes.

"Where is this from?"

"Sparring with Bathin."

"Oh?"

"He is skilled with his sword. If I were any slower, it would've gone through my arm."

His darling let out a concerned hum but kept quiet nonetheless.

The rest of their afternoon went like that. Tentative touches on scar tissues and hushed voices asking questions as they explored the visible scars on his body. They used to be inconsequential to him. Just another notch on his body as proof of another hard won battle and further proof of him reaching his goals. But with how his darling touches them, even going so far as to give the bigger ones a kiss made him feel proud to have them.

Andrealphus thinks he'd found a slice of paradise, here in his humble home, with his darling in his lap, and the rest of the world so far away.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────

A/N:

hiiii i've had a bit of a drink and when im drunk, i write (because i need me some of that dutch courage to stop being conscious about my writing)

gonna add this to my collection of "drinking drabbles"

this was all done in one sitting and definitely not proofread so,,,,,,,

also typed this all up on mobile so idk what's the word count or if the formatting is okay

eheheheheh 🦐

[radioactive-cloud]

those past few days are really testing my patience with some of the takes and opinions i've seen on the internet and i'm so fucking done with all of this i just want to delete all my accounts from everywhere and live somewhere in the woods (as far away from russia as i can) and to never come in contact with another human being again

[taki-yaki]

Prompt: Tav that knows absolutely 0 offensive spells and skills, like she only knows buffs or healing spells. I don’t know what class she’d be, or if she’d be an ordinary civilian, but I don’t know if she’d be the leader. I’d like to think she’d jump at the chance to create an alliance with Astarion once his vampirism is revealed.

I think the closest for a zero-offensive Tav would probably be a life cleric of sorts who just has support spells and nothing else. So spells such as bless, Healing word or cure wounds, shield of faith etc.

Astarion x Pacifist Tav

You were never the fighter sort of Cleric. Seeing yourself as a travelling cleric, healing those in need, instead of fighting in dungeons. Mainly making a small profit by offering ceremony rituals or simple blessings whether they pay you in the end or not, it’s all out of the kindness of your heart. 

Even if along the road, a bandit chose to target you only, you would attempt to paralyze or slow their attack, whether it was a hold-person spell or a blindness. Anything to stop you from using physical brute force.

Despite all of your talent, you question how it came to be that the others within your group saw you fit to lead and find a cure for the tadpole in your skulls. Despite your protests of not being the frontline fighter type. However, Astarion offers a solution to your predicament, he’ll keep you safe from harm as long as you do the same for him. 

In exchange, he sees you as the perfect person to kill his old master. Besides what else is a vampire lord's weakness than the radiant glow of a cleric, even if you can’t fight with offensive spells, you could perhaps summon an orb of light on par with the power of the sun that will burn him to a crisp.

From what you recalled of vampires during your monastery education, they told you to avoid them as they were nothing but bloodthirsty creatures of the night, hungering for the lives they lost upon their conversions. But Astarion looked different to what they spoke, as if he needed your help, just like those you’ve helped on your travels.

During your fights, you would stay far from the clash of swords, healing and supporting from afar. Ready to heal him whenever he gets hurt, even if it was a small scratch. 

Of course, Astarion would tease you over your fussing with him, but deep down he does enjoy the comfort you provide for him that he thought he would never receive after centuries of torment.

At times he does offer to teach you how to fight offensively with a simple blade, but after continually somehow making the blade slip out of your grasp and hesitate to even land a simple swipe upon a training dummy, he relents choosing not to pull you out of your natural comfort zone.

Whilst traversing through the shadow-cursed lands, when the warmth of the sun is out of his reach due to the chilling touch of the shadow curse. You summon small orbs of daylight, emitting the familiar glow of the sun for him to feel the familiar warmth of the sun once again.

[kangen-wanshi]

Hi!! I've been reading your blog and I came across your event prompt! So for that, can I request "Together Forever" number 5 for Watanabe and/or Jing Yuan?

Also, congratulations for reaching 300 followers🎉🎉🎊

Come Back To Me ft. Jing Yuan, Watanabe: Astral

Promises of returning to your loved ones embrace goes beyond words and hugs, for you, they have their own way to show you this side of him.

Tags: sfw, mention of death, kisses

A/N: Why is it so difficult to find Watanabe's good icon:(( Either way thank you anon!! Ty for requesting these two<33

300 followers prompt events! Ongoing until 11th June 2023

Jing Yuan, He gives you a task to keep you company

Jing Yuan looks like someone who pays lightly to the mission he assigned himself to. After all he’s the Dozing General, a legend amongst immortals, the Divine Foresight himself. Even if he were to leave for another few decades, he would pay no worries on the success of his missions.

Even so, you couldn’t help but worry for him. Whether you share immortality with him as a long-life species or not, you would always express your worry, your concern, and your wish of luck for him whenever he departed to take matter into his hands.

And he adores you for it. He’s viewed by a strong force in the military by many in the Xianzhou - to be seen as just another man that can in fact, die, suffer, be hurt, and most of all worthy of your concern, is just a hint of normalcy and domesticity he needed in his boring life as a general.

So instead of brushing off your concern and convincing you with just his words and his kisses, Jing Yuan gives a bit more effort in comforting you about his return. Before he leaves, he would ask you to count the number of strands on Mimi’s white mane, and with every hundred strands you’ve counted, he would give you a kiss in exchange when he returns.

“For every hundred strands you count on Mimi’s mane - I will give you a kiss in exchange. Keep counting, my dear. And when I return, my lips and attention will belong solely to you in effort to repay my promise.”

It keeps you occupied - it also keeps Mimi occupied with your affection. It’s a win-win in his eyes for the both of you. Mimi would have someone to take care of her should she be forced to wait another century for his return, and you would have a reminder of him when you crave to touch his own silver mane.

When he comes back after a long trip - the numbers you gave him doesn’t entirely matter anymore, he would give you dozens - hundreds of kisses if he could within a single night. Although if you came up with honest numbers, he would still give you a few dozen extra pecks. Why? Well you deserve a little more reward for your patience and care for his familiar, don’t you?

Watanabe: Astral, With his kisses and your warmth

This type of promise is something common that you and Watanabe exchange with each other. Living in a world full of war, fighting on the frontline to fight for humanity, risking your life has become the norm for the both of you no matter how cruel of a fate it seems.

Even so, both of you share similar intensity and feelings in your goodbyes. Whenever you leave, Watanabe will come with you if he can, no matter how dangerous your mission seems. But if it's a rare time where the two of you were assigned to different locations due to reasons, then either of you can only falter in defeat in hopes of gaining victory and coming home with your lives together in the end.

It’s like a ritual at this point. He’d pull you towards him, forehead pressed firmly against each other, as your nose grazed him lightly. You didn’t kiss, you didn’t share a word with each other, the short period of goodbye is only said through your touch. How his arms that were holding your shoulder slid down to your sides, holding you close to him, and how you cling onto him with a hand on his cheek.

The kisses you shared are light. A quick, silent peck, before he smothers your palm and wrist with his lips as you do his. It’s a promise that you would kiss each other when both of you returned. That you will come back to each other’s arms, alive and well. Only then will the two of you share your kiss.

“I don’t like being sappy with you.. Just, come back safe, and I will too, alright?”

As Watanabe left in the opposite direction of you, he let the warmth that your lips left on his hand to be the reason for him to come back alive. For him to return to you for more, for him to survive and return to your embrace.

[raayllum]

There's a chessboard in his dreams.

It doesn't show up often, but Ezran's dreams—or nightmares, he supposes, in this case—have always been reoccurring and strange. They're just more vivid and more violent, now that Aaravos is out. (Everything is worse now that Aaravos is out, now that Runaan is out, but Ezran doesn't blame his brother for either of them. He's not angry. Really.)

The chessboard isn't the one he grew up playing, coaxing his brother and dad and Claudia into games, the pieces painstakingly hand etched and with only the white ones painted. These ones are glossy, almost like glass, each piece having a perfect mirrored reflection of each other, like light and shadow.

And they're not knights or rooks either—but they are pawns.

The inside of the prison reflects the chess board, too, the glossy inside of a pearl even though it'd been smashed to pieces. It's what convinces him that this isn't real, that it's just a dream. (It can't be real. He won't let it be real.)

"Ah, King Ezran," Aaravos greets, seated in one chair behind the white set pieces. White always moves first—which makes sense. This game started centuries before Ezran was born. "How nice of you to join me."

Not that any of them have much of a choice, but Ezran takes a seat and grits his teeth. His crown always feels heavier here, even before he sees the way Aaravos picks up his pint-sized Callum and twirls him between his fingers.

"Are you and your dear brother fighting again?"

Yes, but—"Put him down," Ez growls out.

Aaravos raises a brow, but sets the game piece down on one of the white squares, next to a matching Rayla piece. "Not in the mood for games today, are you?" The Startouch elf steeples his fingers together, and nudges one of his frontline pieces forward across the board.

Then it's Ezran's turn, and he knows there's no point in delaying the inevitable, as he picks which piece to move forward.

The chessboard itself Ezran of the war maps he's been looking at lately, moving troops and people—sending his brother and their best friend off to dangerous locations, because they don't have a choice if they want to stop Aaravos and his corrupted Sun army. Ezran, as king, having to treat those he loves most like pawns.

"Your brother wouldn't sacrifice you for anything," Aaravos croons, once they're halfway through. Ezran's temple pounds, his figure of Aunt Amaya having already felled. His piece of Prince Karim is backed into a corner with nowhere to go; Aaravos has lost only small figures on his end—Opeli, Corvus, Barius—pieces he was never that interested in controlling in the first place. "How sad you can't say the same."

"Shut up!" Ezran snaps, because how dare anyone insinuate he doesn't love his brother? Because he does—no matter what, Ezran loves his brother—but he just doesn't love the way Callum does. His brother never does anything halfway; not magic or his fiery temper or his fiercely protective nature. He loves like an explosion, a super nova, a tidal wave.

Ezran has never loved like that. It's not in his nature. It's what makes him a good (miserable) king.

Ezran slams a piece down, not really looking, but knows in an instant he's made a mistake, because Aaravos grins, wide and sharp, like a cat about to eat a canary.

"Hm, not your best, little king," he says, and bumps a glossy monster-pawn up to where Callum lies. "Checkmate."

Ezran wakes up, clammy and hoarse, his throat tight and heart racing. Bait grunts from somewhere near his hip, the glow toad still asleep, and Ezran is careful not to touch him lest he wake him, and stares at the ceiling of his war tent instead.

He exhales, slowly, and gets out of bed to wash his face.

Tomorrow, he will be thirteen years old. He will give speeches at the crack of dawn and command troops and he and his brother, who's acting as one of his generals, will try and muddle through a conversation without arguing.

Ezran scrubs at his eyes and can't quite fight back the tears. But for tonight, in the privacy of the dark, he can be a little boy who's tired of losing.

He's so tired of losing.