#A Place Called Heartland

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Grist:

Within weeks, the nation will deploy 9,000 people to begin restoring landscapes, erecting solar panels, and taking other steps to help guide the country toward a cleaner, greener future.

The first of those workers were inducted into the American Climate Corps on Tuesday during a virtual event from the White House. Their swearing-in marks another step forward for the Biden administration’s ambitious climate agenda. The program, which President Joe Biden announced within days of taking office in 2021, is a modern version of the Climate Conservation Corps, the New Deal-era project that put 3 million men to work planting trees and building national parks.

During the ceremony, the inaugural members of the corps promised to work “on behalf of our nation and planet, its people, and all its species, for the better future we hold within our sight.” 

The American Climate Corps was among the first things Biden announced as president, but it took a while to secure funding and get started. More than 20,000 young people are expected to join during the program’s first year, according to the White House, with new openings appearing on the American Climate Corps job site in the months ahead. The pay varies depending on the location and experience required, with open positions ranging from around $11 to $28 an hour.

The administration is promoting the corps as a way for young people to jump-start green careers. In April, the White House announced a partnership with TradesFutures, a nonprofit construction company, a sign that the program might help fill the country’s shortage of skilled workers who can help electrify everything. The White House will also place members in so-called “energy communities” like former coal-mining towns to help with environmental remediation and other projects.

“Whether it’s managing forests in the Pacific Northwest, deploying clean energy across the Southwest, or promoting sustainable farming practices throughout the heartland, the president’s American Climate Corps is providing thousands of young Americans with the skills and experience to advance a more sustainable, just tomorrow,” White House climate advisor Ali Zaidi said in a press release on Tuesday.

[reasonsforhope]

"In China, a landscape architect is reimagining cities across the vast country by working with nature to combat flooding through the ‘sponge city’ concept.

Through his architecture firm Turenscape, Yu has created hundreds of projects in dozens of cities using native plants, dirt, and clever planning to absorb excess rainwater and channel it away from densely populated areas.

Flooding, especially in the two Chinese heartlands of the commercial south and the agricultural north, is becoming increasingly common, but Yu says that concrete and pipe solutions can only go so far. They’re inflexible, expensive, and require constant maintenance. According to a 2021 World Bank report, 641 of China’s 654 largest cities face regular flooding.

“There’s a misconception that if we can build a flood wall higher and higher, or if we build the dams higher and stronger, we can protect a city from flooding,” Yu told CNN in a video call. “(We think) we can control the water… that is a mistake.”

Pictured: The Benjakitti Forest Park in Bangkok

Yu has been called the “Chinese Olmstead” referring to Frederick Law Olmstead, the designer of NYC’s Central Park. He grew up in a little farming village of 500 people in Zhejiang Province, where 36 weirs channel the waters of a creek across terraced rice paddies.

Once a year, carp would migrate upstream and Yu always looked forward to seeing them leap over the weirs.

This synthesis of man and nature is something that Turenscape projects encapsulate. These include The Nanchang Fish Tail Park, in China’s Jiangxi province, Red Ribbon Park in Qinghuandao, Hebei province, the Sanya Mangrove Park in China’s island province of Hainan, and almost a thousand others. In all cases, Yu utilizes native plants that don’t need any care to develop extremely spongey ground that absorbs excess rainfall.

Pictured: The Dong’an Wetland Park, another Turescape project in Sanya.

He often builds sponge projects on top of polluted or abandoned areas, giving his work an aspect of reclamation. The Nanchang Fish Tail Park for example was built across a 124-acre polluted former fish farm and coal ash dump site. Small islands with dawn redwoods and two types of cypress attract local wildlife to the metropolis of 6 million people.

Sanya Mangrove Park was built over an old concrete sea wall, a barren fish farm, and a nearby brownfield site to create a ‘living’ sea wall.

One hectare (2.47 acres) of Turenscape sponge land can naturally clean 800 tons of polluted water to the point that it is safe enough to swim in, and as a result, many of the sponge projects have become extremely popular with locals.

One of the reasons Yu likes these ideas over grand infrastructure projects is that they are flexible and can be deployed as needed to specific areas, creating a web of rain sponges. If a large drainage, dam, seawall, or canal is built in the wrong place, it represents a huge waste of time and money.

Pictured: A walkway leads visitors through the Nanchang Fish Tail Park.

The sponge city projects in Wuhan created by Turenscape and others cost in total around half a billion dollars less than proposed concrete ideas. Now there are over 300 sponge projects in Wuhan, including urban gardens, parks, and green spaces, all of which divert water into artificial lakes and ponds or capture it in soil which is then released more slowly into the sewer system.

Last year, The Cultural Landscape Foundation awarded Yu the $100,000 Oberlander Prize for elevating the role of design in the process of creating nature-based solutions for the public’s enjoyment and benefit."

-via Good News Network, August 15, 2024

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 3: OF TRUE AND FALSE MEMORIES

synopsis: you hitch a ride to the heartlands. hopefully your driver doesn't mind you leeching for just a while longer.

word count: 3.6k

ships: Arthur Morgan/Modern!Reader, Van der Linde Gang & Reader

notes: hey ummm merry christmas eve here's an early present. also zion as a concept of faith is mentioned but i am not a zionist trust it's just that joshua graham is unfortunately a mormon 🙏

TOSoA taglist: @one-green-frog , @photo1030 , @mavenhavenn , @fathermarama , @its-yummi (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask <3!!)

THE OLD SOUL OF AMERICA MASTERLIST

You know the trail to Dead Horse Point well by now. Something is a bit different – but still, Joshua and Daniel and the Dead Horses and Sorrows welcome you and your mules, Rook and Bishop, all the same.

Follows-Chalk, Drumming-Storm, and a few other Dead Horses crowd the mules, offloading everything you had on them: books, kettles, blankets, guns (and accompanying black powder), tobacco, and alcohol. They mostly crowd Rook, as she’s the heavyweight of the two and carries more – Bishop’s more of a riding mule. The Dead Horses wander off soon after, arms full, taking everything to its respective place. 

Joshua approaches you, adjusting the bandages near his eyes to see you better. “You’ve got on well.”

“Yes, sir,” you say. “Happy Trails treats me well. I’m their employee, but I’m also their friend.”

“Yes, but this?” Joshua gestures at the people putting up what you’ve brought. “All this product? They must have put a lot of trust in you.”

“They put more trust in my steeds,” you say. “Both got some burro in them. And they can kick as hard as them, too – especially Bishop.”

“That, I don’t doubt,” Joshua says. 

You watch as Rook shakes her coat out, causing her carrying gear to jingle. Bishop wanders closer to Joshua, nudging at his shoulder and nipping at the bandages that cover Joshua’s arm. Joshua lifts his arm (slowly – again, he’s bandaged all over) and pats the side of Bishop’s face.

“They like it here,” you say. “Maybe it’s something about the canyon. Or maybe they just like you.”

“Zion is a godly place,” Joshua says. His voice, though deep and abrasive, carries a heavy tone of affection. “Wherever man may be, he always dreams of Zion. These creatures may share our same dreams.”

“That’d be nice,” you hum softly. You reach out and place your hand under Rook’s jaw, and she leans forward into your touch. Her big, brown eyes blink slowly as she looks at you, then around the campsite, like she’s appreciating the sight.

“We should probably get going,” you say. You look over at Joshua. “I need to load up on daturana and datura hide. That’s what Happy Trails wants in exchange, anyway.”

“Go talk to Winding-Path,” Joshua says. “She knows what you’re owed.”

When you look to your right, Follows-Chalk is hurrying over, a hand raised and a smile on his face. The painted markings on his face crease and stretch with his smile – rather than spider legs creeping up his cheeks, they look like laugh lines.

“Hoye!” He greets. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Nice to see you, too,” you say. You reach out to grasp his hand, and as soon as you brush it – 

A bump in the road jolts you awake. You let out a small, confused sound, then settle. 

You’re in the back of a wagon, crammed between folded-up lodgings and kitchen supplies. Your knees are drawn to your chest, and your back is to the wooden side of the wagon. 

Before packing up and making yourself fit into the space left on the wagon, you weren’t really told much of anything. From what you’ve gathered, the men (“men” being the young-ish, able-bodied ones) robbed a train, and now you and the gang have to flee. It seems like you fit right in, because they have a penchant for pissing off the wrong people, just like you.

“Hey, you’re finally awake!” Hosea calls from the front, where he sits next to Arthur.

“Yeah.” You shift and take a quick, deep breath as you rub the sleep from your eyes. “Yeah, I’m up.”

“We’re nearly to the Heartlands,” Hosea says. He turns so that he’s facing you with his arm resting on the back of the seat. “You ever been there before?”

“No,” you say. You sway with the trail in the dirt road and the way Arthur drives. 

“We’re settling up in Horseshoe Overlook,” Hosea says. “It’s near a livestock town called Valentine – all mud and morons, if I remember right.”

“Huh,” you hum. You look away from Hosea and around you. 

It’s different from when you were up in Colter. It’s warmer, for one. The trees aren’t dredged in snow – instead, their branches are covered in leaves, each one green and upturned. Grasses and flowers sprout from the dirt ground, which is now soft and malleable instead of frozen and cold to the touch. Everything is just nicer. 

For a minute, you just listen to the sounds around you. It’s calm. Birdsong fills the air, and you can see animals bounding through the trees of the forest and grasses of the valleys (for the first time in a while, honestly – cities don’t lend themselves well to wildlife). 

What was that dream about? You wonder silently. I was… in the Dead Horses’ camp. But that place is completely fictional, even in this… timeline? Coma-fever-something dream? I don’t even know at this point.

You hear the sound of moving water and look to the front. Arthur is guiding the horses into a stream, which the rest of the caravan has cleared without a problem. 

In the middle of the water, you feel a shock and hear something break. You clutch to the side of the wagon and feel that the driving is a little… off.

“Get us out the stream,” Hosea says. “You gotta keep us moving, but calm.”

Did you just ask Arthur to be calm? You shout in your head. Arthur is the epitome of everything that isn’t calm! He barely feels things, and when he does, he’s meaner than a gas station tweaker – and he’s not even on anything!

Arthur (yes, carefully, you’ll admit) pulls the wagon out of the stream. Just as he does, you feel another shock and a shift. You scramble to hold onto a canister as it nearly falls out of the back of the wagon. 

“Ah, shit!” Arthur curses. He draws the wagon to a stop.

“Okay, let’s take a look,” Hosea says. 

You move and shift the items so that they’re pushed further up the wagon, where you were sitting just before. You hop off the back of the wagon. Sure enough, the wheel has just popped itself right off. 

“You alright back there?” Bill calls from up ahead. 

“Does everything look alright?” Arthur snaps as he hops off the driver’s seat. 

You can see Javier shift in his seat in the wagon ahead of yours, trying to get a better look. “Well, what’s going on?”

Arthur walks closer to you, accessing the damage. He throws a hand up in the air and groans. “I broke the goddamn wheel!”

“Alright!” Hosea chimes. “Let’s get it fixed.” 

“You need help?” Javier calls. 

Hosea waves him off with a hand. “I reckon we can handle it.”

You quickly step back as he and Charles make their way to the back of the wagon. Arthur hoists up the wheel so he can roll it towards the wagon. Hosea and Charles pick up the back, and Arthur forces the wheel back into place. 

You hurry over and pick up a crate, putting it in the wagon. You hop up into the bed of the wagon and take a small chest from Charles, placing it where it belongs.

“Hey, look at you.” Arthur says as he checks the back of the wagon. “You ain’t so useless after all.”

“O-oh,” you say after a second. “You’re talking to me?”

“I am.” He looks up at you. The brim of his hat casts a harsh shadow that partly obscures his eyes. “Did I… offend you, somehow?”

“No, no!” You laugh nervously and take another crate from Charles. “I just wasn’t sure. Sorry.”

“Uh-huh,” Arthur hums. 

“Hold on,” Hosea almost hisses. 

You look over at him, and he’s looking to the side. You follow his eyes and see three figures on the ridge of a cliff, each perched on a horse. You can barely make out their facial features, but they look like Native Americans.

“What you think?” Arthur says lowly. 

“If they wanted trouble, we wouldn’t have seen them,” Charles says. 

“Poor bastards…” Hosea raises his arm and waves, but doesn’t call out to them. “We really screwed them over down here.”

Yeah… You think to yourself, still looking at the figures on horseback. It’s not much better in the future, either. I’d tell you all the details, but then I’d be put in an asylum.

“Come on,” Hosea says. “Let’s not push our luck.”

You take your eyes away from the figures. Instead, you help Charles pack up the last of what’s meant to go in the back of the wagon. 

As Arthur and Hosea hop on the front of the wagon, you make yourself comfortable on top of a trunk. Charles sits across from you on a rectangular crate. 

“Not too far now. Stay on this trail,” Hosea instructs Arthur. “We’ll follow the river, then cut left inland.”

You look around as Hosea starts telling Arthur about how the poor the natives were treated in this area. “Stolen clean away from them it was, every blade of grass,” he says. Even though it’s wrong (reprehensible, even), you understand why white men wanted this country. It’s breathtakingly beautiful – or maybe it just looks that way because it’s not what you’re used to. It’s not asphalt and smog and a concrete jungle in place of real land that lives and breathes.

“I heard some of the army out here was particularly, uh…” Hosea thinks for a second. “Unpleasant about it.”

“Unpleasant?” Charles echoes. “How do you rob and kill people pleasantly?”

“You… say please?” You try to joke. “And thank you?”

“Something like that!” Hosea laughs. “That’s the perfect way to simplify something more complicated for the benefit of our blockheaded driver here.” 

You cringe a little. You don’t really want to be roped in while Hosea’s insulting Arthur so freely and carelessly. 

“Hey, don’t blame nothin’ on me,” Arthur says. “Never forget, y’all – this here’s a conman, born and bred. Just ‘cause it sounds fancy don’t mean he knows a damn thing ‘bout what he’s talkin’ ‘bout.”

A nice pseudo-quiet settles over all four of you. (Pseudo because while it’s true that none of you are talking, the noise of the forest around you fills that silence well.)

“So…” Arthur starts. “Charles. What happened to your tribe?”

“I don’t even know if I have one. Least, not that I can remember,” Charles says. “My father was a colored man. They told me he lived with our people for a while – a number of free men did – but… when we were forced to move from our lands, the three of us fled. I was too young to really remember much.” 

His expression hardens a little. “All my life I’ve been on the run.”

You feel your face twist a bit and a pang of empathy. Empathy – not sympathy. You don’t feel pity for Charles. You know a feeling familiar to his. Maybe you weren’t literally pushed from your land, but you sure as hell know how it feels – skipping from shelter to warming center to temporary housing to shelter.

Addicts, even child addicts and children of addicts, are liabilities. You were a liability.

Charles’ voice brings you from your thoughts. “A couple years later, some soldiers captured my mother. Took her somewhere. We never saw her again. We drifted around. My father was a very sad man, and the drink had a mean hold on him. Around thirteen… I just took off on my own.”

His eyes flit over to meet yours. “What’s that look for?”

“Sorry.” You duck your head and look off to the side. “It’s just… I understand.”

You leave it hanging at that. Then, you look at Charles out of the corner of your eye. He’s waiting for you to continue. You glance at Hosea and Arthur. Neither have turned around to look at you, but you can tell they’re waiting, too. 

“My dad wasn’t around. Like, at all,” you say. “And my mom liked to go to trap houses to get stoned out of her goddamn mind.”

“Trap houses?” Hosea echoes. “What d’you mean by that?”

A cold shock shoots down your spine as you remember that, yeah – this is 1899! And you’re from the future! And you can’t let slip that you’re from the 21st century!

“A trap house is a house where people go to buy and sell drugs,” you say as you think of a lie. “Sorry – it’s slang from the Frontier, I guess. Hasn’t made its way eastward yet.”

“Huh,” Hosea hums. “And what did you do before you found yourself here? If you don’t mind my asking.”

The dream! The dream! Your mind screams at you. Remember the dream!

“I worked for a company called Happy Trails Caravan,” you lie. “Had two mules – Rook and Bishop. I spent most of my time travelling alone, and delivering to the tribes in the Mojave.”

“And how was that?” Hosea asks. “I can’t imagine travelling all the time leaving a lot of room for friends.”

“Oh, yeah. It was nice, but still a little lonely,” you say. “I started doing more local runs across the north of the Mojave around six or seven years ago. Made friends with some of the tribes in Zion Canyon. I started working that job when I was maybe… fourteen? And spent around a decade going cross-country before I did more local deliveries.”

“That was about the age we found young Arthur here – maybe a little older,” Hosea says. “A wilder delinquent you never did see! But he learned fast.”

Arthur scoffs. “Not as fast as Marston, apparently.”

You and Charles exchange a look and he speaks up. “I don’t understand. What’s the problem between you two?”

“Eh…” Arthur shrugs. “It’s a long story.”

You cup a hand by your mouth and half-whisper to Charles. “Marston’s the wolf guy, right?”

He just nods in response. You drop your hand and lean back, looking around at the scenery again. Arthur leads the wagon right by the wall of a sheer cliff drop. You look up at the ridge and the trees silhouetted there. 

“We still headed the right way?” Arthur says. 

“That depends,” Hosea says. “Are we still heading west, in search of fortune and repose in virgin forests, as we planned? No. Are we heading in the correct direction on our desperate escape from the law, eastwards down the mountains? Yes, I believe so.”

You smile to yourself a little. You don’t really know him all that well, but so far, Hosea’s shaping up to be one of the people you can trust. If not, he’s a nice storyteller, at least. You guess that counts for something.

“You know this area?” Charles asks. 

“A little. I’ve been through a couple of times. There’s a livestock town not too far from here, called Valentine.” Hosea hooks his thumb over his shoulder at you. “Was telling them and Arthur about it earlier. Cowboys, outlaws, working girls. Our kinda place.”

“O’Driscolls?” Arthur asks. 

“Probably them too,” Hosea says.

“Pinkertons?”

“Let’s hope not.” 

“And this place we’re going…” Arthur shifts, giving the reins a light snap. “Wait, what’s it called again?”

You turn and watch the riverbed pass by as they continue to talk. The place is called Horseshoe Overlook, like Hosea told you earlier. They talk about the Blackwater job and about Dutch doing things that weren’t like him. (That confuses you a bit. He’s a nice guy, as far as you can tell. But everyone has their limit, and from what you can infer, the ferry was Dutch’s limit.) A few more sentences later, you get the distinct feeling you shouldn’t be listening in on this conversation. Instead, you turn to Charles. 

“Are you doing okay?” You ask. 

“I’m fine,” Charles says. “Do I… not look okay?”

You laugh awkwardly and scratch your cheek. “No, no. I’m just… asking to be polite.”

His eyebrows draw together a little and he frowns a bit. “Okay.”

You inhale deeply and draw your lips into a thin line, then nod, then look away. 1899 is such a weird year to be alive. Or… to be in a coma in? Like, you’re in a coma and your coma dream is set in 1899. This is so confusing.

Javier’s voice from up ahead breaks your thoughts (and keeps you from going into a spiral, really). 

“There you are, brother!” He points further down the trail. “Head in there and follow the track for a bit.”

“Thanks,” Arthur says. 

“Hey, slow up,” Javier calls. “I’ll jump on.”

Javier catches up as Arthur slows down. He hops up onto the tailgate step, holding onto the side of the wagon for extra support. You give him a smile and he nods in return. 

“Any trouble getting in here, Javier?” Hosea asks from up front. 

“No, it went well,” Javier says. “This is a good spot.”

“Excellent!” Hosea says. “I think this’ll work for us. For now, anyway.”

You lean to the side and watch as Horseshoe Overlook comes into view. It’s a nice spot, like Javier said. Some of the grass has already been worn down from all the recent moving around the people and the horses have been doing. A few tents have already been set up, but not all of them.

“Here we are, folks,” Hosea says. “Home, sweet home.”

“You weren’t wrong, Hosea!” Dutch calls from inside the camp. “This place… is perfect.”

Hosea climbs off, and you take that as a hint to get off and start unloading. Charles looks inside the trunk you were sitting on before and tells you that it’s bedding. You take it from him and head over to the tents. 

Most of the rest of the day passes like that. Everything needs to be unpacked and worked on. There was a small interruption when Dutch got up on his soapbox and gave a quick speech about everyone pitching in. He told the gang their fake backstory – that you and the rest of them are a group of itinerant workers whose factory got shut down up north. 

Evening comes quietly and quickly, and night follows it. The sheer drop on the outskirts of camp serves as a nice place to sit and think. 

The stars are so much more bright than they are back in your time. (Your time? Or is it real life? Waking life? Who knows? And, at this point, who cares?) They twinkle and blink and almost seem to dance. They group together and look like they’re spilling from one center source. The moon is nice and full on the horizon. You can see the craters and indents in her surface. It’s like you’re looking up at millions of silver nails driven into dark blue velvet, with the white head of a spike serving as the moon. It’s beautiful, for lack of better words. 

“Hey.”

You gasp and tense, glancing over your shoulder. It’s Arthur. 

You return to looking up at the sky. “Jesus… What do you want?”

“Charles told me to ask you if you’ve eaten,” Arthur says. “Well? Have you?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say. “I’m good.”

Even though you think the conversation is over, you can still feel Arthur behind you. It seems that these people either don’t know how to end a conversation or it’s just different in 1899. 

“The stars.” You glance over your shoulder at Arthur, then away again. “I’m… I’m looking at the stars. If you were curious.”

“Uh huh?” Arthur hums. “And what’s so fascinating about them stars?”

“It’s just that, uh… I couldn’t see them as well out west,” you say. “Where I’m from. Here, I can see them so clearly. They look so real.”

Like I could just reach out and touch them… I mean, this is a coma or something like that. Maybe I could. Maybe I can. 

“I mean, I know they’re real,” you say, your voice laced with laughter. “I’m not – I’m not stupid. They’re just pretty. That’s all.”

“Whatever you say,” Arthur says. 

He steps forward into your peripheral vision. You glance at him, then away, like a child after they’ve been scolded for staring. You push down the instinct to shrink away and look at him.

He takes out a hand-rolled cigarette and puts it between his lips. He strikes a match with the bottom of his boot and lights it. The cherry of the cigarette lights up his face, casting warm light and soft shadows. 

“You want one?” Arthur asks. 

“Huh?” You blink, then look away. “No. No, thank you. I don’t smoke.”

“If you say so,” he says. 

You can see Arthur look up at the stars out of the corner of your eye. He takes a deep drag from his cigarette, then exhales the smoke through his nose. The cherry of the cigarette flickers, then resumes glowing softly. 

You join him in looking up. Sure enough, the stars are still there, and the stars are still real. All seem to spill from a single source. The moon is a little higher above the horizon – no longer touching it, but hovering in the sky. 

 Usually, you’d never get moments like this. You’d usually work from sunrise until sunset and pick up extra shifts and overtime where you could. It’s nice to see the world like this. Natural. Raw. Even if you have to ignore Arthur’s presence extra-hard, you still manage to enjoy the moment. 

Everything’s just so slow back… then? Back now? Back now. Everything’s so slow back now. It’s like a break. A break from the jackrabbit-style, too-quick, so-fast-it’ll-give-you-a-heart-attack type of living you’re used to. A forced break, but a break nonetheless.

Breaks are nice. You watch a star flicker, twinkle, then blink into darkness. 

Maybe you should take breaks more often. 

[zvaigzdelasas]

The fighting took place in the Mediterranean coastal province of Latakia, the heartland of the ousted president's Alawite minority[...]

The death toll "following attacks and ambushes by gunmen loyal to Assad in the town of Jableh and its surrounding areas increased to 16 members of the security forces", the Syrian Observatory for Human Rights said, adding that the majority of the dead were from the former rebel bastion of Idlib.

It said they were "the most violent attacks against the new authorities since Assad was toppled".

At least three of the gunmen in Jableh were killed, said the Britain-based Observatory, which relies on a network of sources inside Syria.

The province's security director had earlier said that Syrian forces were clashing with gunmen loyal to an Assad-era special forces commander in another village in Latakia, after authorities reportedly launched helicopter strikes.[...]

The Syrian Observatory for Human Rights had earlier reported "strikes launched by Syrian helicopters on armed men in the village of Beit Ana and the surrounding forests, coinciding with artillery strikes on a neighbouring village".[...]

A defence ministry source later told SANA that large military reinforcements were being deployed to the Jableh area "to support the security forces and restore stability to the area".[...]

Alawite leaders later called in a statement on Facebook for "peaceful protests" in response to the air strikes, which they said had targeted "the homes of civilians".[...]

Later on Thursday, large groups of young men, some bearing arms, gathered in Idlib, in support of the security forces fighting in Latakia, the Observatory said.

Messages broadcast over the loudspeakers of mosques called for "jihad" against the gunmen, it added.[...]

The country's new security forces have since launched extensive campaigns seeking to root out Assad loyalists from his former bastions.

Residents and organisations have reported violations during those campaigns, including the seizing of homes, field executions and kidnappings.

6 Mar 25

[ladykailitha]

Murder in the Heartland Part 5

Hey, all! Sorry about last week. Sometimes my ADHD really kills me on time blindness and executive dysfunction. And last week it hit me hard. So my delightful husband @mjwproductionsandfilm helped a gal out so I could make sure you guys had a chapter.

In this we have Eddie taking a nice trip to Hawaii and maybe getting what he was after.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

~

Interviewer: You don’t think you owe fans your time? That’s a little selfish, don’t you think?

Steve licked his lips as he glared at her: No. I don’t. As I said, I don’t need the money to live. I have this beautiful home on this beautiful island. I want for nothing, I need nothing. If the success from my books were to dry up tomorrow, the only people who would mourn are those who want to read any future works I would have done.

Interviewer: What do you mean?

Steve shrugged: If people aren’t buying my books, my publisher isn’t going to want to print other stories I might have in me. Yes, this is the last Joe Kerry book, but I could decide to write a fantasy novel or even my own autobiography. But if there isn’t a market for it, it won’t get published. But I wouldn’t care. I enjoy writing and only started publishing my works because my best friend and now agent Robin Buckley thought that I should. So no, I don’t owe my fans anything.

~

Eddie had already spent on month of chasing his own tail when it came to the case he was working on. Murray had solved three cases in the time Eddie had taken on this one.

“You know,” Murray said as Eddie sat hunched over his notes for the billionth time, “I know the kid said he wouldn’t have had the money to fly anywhere, but maybe he had cash stashed away somewhere she didn’t know about.”

Eddie raised his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “So you think that maybe he did get on a flight somewhere?”

Murray shrugged. “Only way to find out.”

“Fuck.” Eddie was on his feet and grabbing his jacket and keys in an instant.

“Good luck!”

Eddie showed up at the airport with a winning smile and his PI license. And after some digging he was able to find out that someone matching Billy’s description had bought a plane ticket with cash. But it was to LA and Max had been adamant that Billy would have avoided California all together.

“If he was trying to to get to Hawaii,” the receptionist said, “he’d have to have a layover in LA. It’s the only way to get there.”

Eddie blinked at her for a moment. Hawaii would be the best place to get as far away from Neil as possible. He thanked her and went to a pay phone.

He called Max and told her he needed to get on a flight to Hawaii.

“You really think he could gone all the way out there?” she asked, skeptically. “He didn’t have that kind of money.”

He thought about it for a moment. “He would have if he sold his Camero.”

“Oh shit!” she said. “Yeah that would have gotten him pretty far even if he hadn’t got much for it.”

“I’m getting on the next flight to LA,” Eddie said seriously. “Then onto Hawaii. That will be the hardest part because there is more than one island, but I think we’re getting close.”

“Get to it, fly boy!” Max huffed with a breathy laugh.

“Aye, aye, Captain!” Eddie snarked right back. He hung up and then called Murray to let him know what was going on.

“You lucky duck,” Murray huffed. “Pack sunscreen and a lot of books. Try to make yourself look as tourist-y as possible. You don’t want to accidentally tip Billy off and have him do a runner on you.”

“Roger that,” Eddie said and then hung up. He bought tickets for tomorrow and then left the airport feeling optimistic he was on the right trail at the very least.

And even if it was a bust, he’d at least get a nice vacation on Max’s dime. It would be good to get out of Indiana for awhile.

Wayne laughed him off when Eddie offered to take him with, siting that he was too pale for Hawaii and to enjoy himself.

~

Eddie had been in Hawaii for two weeks and he was absolutely sick of it. It got hot in Hawkins, but this was ball sticking hot. He was started to get literal swamp ass, he was sweating so much.

He was on Maui, the last island he was willing to spend time on to look for Billy and he was giving himself until the end of the week to find him before he called it quits to give Max the bad news.

He was drinking a vodka and coke with pink, paper umbrella and trying not melt into the bar, when bartender got off and the new guy came on.

“That tattoo, Eddie from Iron Maiden, yeah?” the bartender asked, indicating to the tattoo peaking out of Eddie’s white tank top with the sides hollowed out.

The spider was on full display as well as most of his other tattoos, so Eddie really wasn’t paying attention. “Yep! You a metal fan?”

“Hell yeah, man,” the bartender said cheerfully. “Would love to see Maiden in concert.”

He looked up and into the crystal blue eyes of Billy Hargrove. His blond hair had been died brown and his face clean shaven, different from the little mustache he wore back in Indiana.

“That would be the dream,” Eddie said with a winning smile. “But tickets are just so hard to get these days.”

“I know, right?” Billy replied. “You have to camp out for days and even then there is no guarantee you will get there before the scalpers.”

Eddie snorted and took a sip of his drink. “You’ve got that right.”

Billy tilted his head and regarded him a moment. “You look really familiar, do I know you from somewhere?”

Eddie pulled out a photo and slid it over. “And for the record, no one knows you’re here. Just me and you say the word, I won’t know you’re here either.”

Billy’s eyes went wide as he slowly picked up the picture. He let out a sound that was a cross between a whine and sigh of relief.

“Max,” he breathed. He looked up at Eddie. “Max sent you?”

Eddie nodded and then slid over his business card. “I can’t say I know why you ran or how you even got here, but seriously. I was about to throw in the towel.”

Billy picked up the card and a huff of laughter burst from him. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Oh god. That’s fucking hilarious and so on brand for Max.” He pocketed both the picture and the business card.

He wiped down the counter. “I just got on, but if you’re willing to hang around for a couple hours we can talk when I go on break.”

Eddie held up his glass and shook it with a grin. “Then you better keep ‘em coming!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Billy said with a laugh. He got another rum and Coke and set down in front of him.

Between other patrons Eddie and Billy talked about metal music and places Eddie had seen in Hawaii. Just keeping the conversation light so no one around them knew anything was out of the ordinary.

Finally Billy was allowed to go on break and Eddie followed him to an out of the way booth and slid in on the other side.

“It took a bit to remember you,” Billy confessed, fidgeting nervously. “I’d come to you for my weed and shit. So this is what you’re doing now? Fucking Magnum PI shit?”

Eddie snorted. “I wish it was that fun or thrilling, but no, it’s pretty boring shit for the most part. But hey at least I got a two week vacation paid for by a client so it’s not all bad.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Billy said with burst of laughter. “I guess being a PI in Buttfuck Nowhere, IN wouldn’t be as fun as it would be here in Hawaii.”

“Dude, I don’t know how you can stand it,” Eddie groused into his glass. “I have swamp ass like twenty-four/seven. It’s horrible. I want to go back to Indiana because at least the heat isn’t this.” He waved vaguely at the rest of the island.

Billy chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s probably because I grew up in Southern California, but I love it here. I’m happy. I’ve got a girlfriend, my own place, a job I enjoy and waves to surf every morning, like this is it for me, man. I really, really do love it here.”

“So if you don’t mind me asking,” Eddie said cocking his head to the side. “Like why blow out of Dodge? Why Hawaii? How Hawaii?”

“That’s a lot of questions,” Billy said after laughing hard. “The why? I told my dad that I wouldn’t report him for abusing Max if he cut town after I did and Hawaii seemed like the farthest I could go with out needing a passport.”

“That makes sense, like holy shit,” Eddie replied. “Neil is a fucking piece of work. I had to talk to him when Max first hired me and believe me when I say I had to shower three times before I got the slick off my skin.” He paused for a moment. “Reminded me of my dad. A real asshole.”

Billy nodded, grimacing in sympathy. “As to how, that’s still something I’m trying to figure out, because it plays out like a Hollywood blockbuster, man.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie asked, cocking his head to the side again as he regarded Billy. The other man was twisting in his seat nervously and picking at the label of his beer bottle.

“So there I was trying to hitchhike out Hawkins to at least get to Indy,” Billy explained. “And who should pull up in that fucking maroon Bimmer of his?”

“No fucking way!” Eddie said, leaning forward. “King Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington?” When Billy nodded, he threw himself back against the seat. “Well, I’ll be damned. So he gave you a lift to Indy?”

“He did more than that, man,” Billy said shaking his head. “His parents had just kicked him out and he was on his way out of town himself. He gave me money to get on a plane to anywhere I wanted to go.”

“Why would he do that?” Eddie asked in confusion. “You two got on like water and oil, I would have expected for him to give you the bird as he flew past ya.”

“Well considering we were both sporting black eyes and split lips...” Billy said with a half shrug.

Eddie took that to his chest like a bullet direct to his heart. He sucked in a breath and it caught in his throat as tried to take that in. “And then what? He drops you off at the airport?”

“He was headed that way anyway,” Billy said with a smirk. “Even promised to send my Camero my way once he got settled.”

Eddie’s eyes were bulging out of his head now. It just seemed so surreal. “Let me guess, it wasn’t even a whole month before you got the call that it had arrived?”

“Try a week!” Billy crowed, shaking his head. “I always thought Harrington had more money than sense, but it was nice to get my car back. Had to give her a new paint job, but it was still nice to be able to get around to find a place to live and get a job.”

“You’re own guardian angel,” Eddie agreed. “How did you know that Neil would keep up his end of the bargain?”

“I’ve got a friend in Hawkins who calls me once a week,” Billy said with a shrug. “I have a tape with proof the abuse, so all I have to do is send it to them, and he’s as good as arrested and he knows it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he decided to move back to California.”

Eddie shook his head. “He wants Max’s settlement money. But your pal Steve-o set up so not even Susan can touch it.”

Billy snorted. “So he’ll wait until she turns eighteen, that rat bastard.” He threw his head back and rolled his eyes.

“Give me the evidence,” Eddie said suddenly. “You’ll have kept up your half of the bargain, and get rid of the rat bastard. I can even say I found it looking for you and when I realized what I had I turned it over to the police.”

“You’d do that?”

“I like the kid,” Eddie said with a shrug. “Getting Neil as far from her as I could would ease a worry I have.”

“Yeah,” Billy said rubbing his chin. “Then once he’s been put away I could contact Max and let her know I’m okay.”

Eddie nodded. “Sounds like we have an accord.”

Billy grinned and shook his hand. “So we do!”

~

Part 6

Tag List: THREE SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @steddieislife @bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale @stripey82 @kroymu09 @chaotic-waffle

10- @tartarusknight @hattsy-likes-pretty-stuff

[felassan]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard Achievements (spoiler warning for link) -image files from Steam.

these are cool pieces of art, some with references to previous pieces of DA art. ^^ there are also black and white versions of these image files.

Post is under a cut due to length and spoilers.

This post is Part One of two.

[Part Two link]

Part 1: The Minrathous Job Technically, the plan worked.

Part 2: Ruin’s Reach Made unexpected acquaintances in the most unusual of places.

Part 3: Awakening Discovered a singing blade, and the awakening of ancient magic.

Part 4: Tevinter Nights Uncovered a darkness etched deep into the streets of Minrathous and beyond.

Part 5: Anvallenim Peeled back the shroud concealing a cult’s dark movements and gained some valuable insight.

Part 6: Old Blood, Older Oaths Faced a howling storm to discover a long-held secret, and found out what it means to be a leader.

Part 7: Fire, Feather, and Fade Searched high and low to bring together a team unlike any other.

Part 8: No Sacrifice Greater Practiced vigilance, found peace wanting, and witnessed the meaning of sacrifice.

Part 9: Bonds and Blackened Wings Forged bonds with a family found amidst an unravelling world.

Part 10: The Blood of Arlathan Followed a crimson trail weaving through the heartland of an ancient empire.

Part 11: As Shadows Fall Tracked evil through the heart of Antiva, and found that light casts the longest shadows.

Part 12: The Best Tales Ascended to the throne of would-be gods under the shadow of their legacy.

Part 13: The Last Gambit The only thing left to lose is everything.

Part 14: The Dread Wolf Rises Faced down demons, dragons, darkspawn, and even the Dread Wolf.

The Ones That Last Beat the odds and walked into the sunset.

The Storm Quelled The poisoned fruit ripens.

In Peace Found hope in the aftermath.

No Real Gods Drew out the latent magic in every Altar of the Evanuris.

Reflections Helped an eluvian tinkerer find herself in a shattered world.

A New Calling Helped a fearless Warden find his new calling.

Death Becomes Him Helped an old necromancer define his legacy.

A Song from the Stone Helped an expert scout forge a new path.

Blood Ties Helped a master assassin slay his demons.

City of Shadows Helped a seasoned detective uncover what lies in the shadows of her past.

Little Dragon Helped a dragon hunter find the meaning of what burns inside them.

A Memory of False Gods Witnessed the first memory of Fen'Harel.

A Memory of Our Mistake Witnessed the second memory of Fen'Harel.

A Memory of Blackened Hearts Witnessed the third memory of Fen'Harel.

A Memory of Manifestation Witnessed the fourth memory of Fen'Harel

A Memory of Tranquility Witnessed the fifth memory of Fen'Harel.

[source: Steam]

[chasingfictions]

the pink pony club -> naked in manhattan -> california -> guilty pleasure run is so fucking insane every time . like. story song about longing for the gay coast from the heartland and then you get there and you'll always miss where youre from and it will always be in you but you'll never go fully back either, the queer freedom you have in santa monica is too good and too much and everything you've ever wanted, it called you here from across thousands of miles. then meanwhile back in real life but also not real life chappell is on the other coast the other major city experiencing a different kind of first taste of queer living, only it's never happened yet, it's a dream song it lives in the almost, she had never kissed a girl yet when the song was written, she was still dating a man and dreaming about what she wanted her life to be, and even in the song, the queer desire is so close, it's in the air, but also you can't tell if it's really happening or if it's just another daydream. and then we're back in california and it's so real this time and it just hurts and the dream wasn't what you wanted it to be, and home is calling to you, home can give you things this place can't and never could and never will, and also you feel like you're letting everyone down by going back, this is supposed to go the other way, and part of that, from the context of the previous two songs is like, well were the desires not enough? is the big flashy life you were supposed to go live in a place that can give you these other things not enough? was this dream about your life being different actually just a dream did it just hurt?

and then ending on a treatise on desire itself, and like, why does the pleasure feel guilty, your home put that in you, your home made it feel like a bad thing to feel, bad thing to want, but you come back to it anyway. and this time the desire is physical in front of you. you're not telling a story about a girl from tennessee who runs away to be a drag queen at a mythical club, you're not telling a daydream about how in new york you're allowed to be gay and maybe some friendship with a girl could turn into more, you're not wistful about all the might-have-beens in california or the midwest you fled to get there. like you are still fantasizing but also you're watching someone try on jeans and their body is Right There. your body is in the room and you can't deny that you feel this. and also while all the three previous songs were so rooted in specific geography, this time you could be anywhere -- learned it on the internet. you could still be home in the midwest, you could be out at some coastline far away, you could be at a million other somewheres.

but no matter where you are, this desire will be there, you will always pursue this want, there's no version of you who wouldn't want this. you were always going to find a way here. and you want it forever. it may be bad for you and you may not be supposed to belong here but you're gonna make yourself belong because you want it forever. i want this like a cigarette can we drag it out and never quit. um!!!!

[jujumin-translates]

★ Main Story | Act 13 - Budding Spring | Chapter 1 - New Prologue

Towa: (So this is Veludo Station~. It’s smaller than I thought it’d be. The exit should be this way…)

Towa: (Umm, the map app says…)

Towa: Yeah, over there.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Towa: So this is Veludo Way…

Towa: (This is the heartland of theater, the place with the highest concentration of theaters in all of Japan… all kinds of theater companies, both large and small, are based here.)

Towa: (I’ve only ever seen it in videos, but there really is theater no matter where you look.)

Towa: (It’s amazing that theater continues all the way down the street.)

Towa: And just beyond that is where… the Holy Land…!

Towa: Calm down, calm down. Okay.

*Camera clicks*

Towa: (I’ll let the guys know…)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

momo has entered the chat.

momo: At Veludo Way rn

Iv: congratsss. haven’t seen where you are rn in a hot minute lol shiki: That’s Veludo Way? Kar: AI detected momo: But it’s legit! Kar: Kinda blurry tho shiki: Congrats on your long-awaited pilgrimage to the Holy Land! Happy for you! momo: Haven’t gotten to the Holy Land yet. Gotta calm down first Iv: lol you’ve gone all that way and still haven’t done that? momo: It’s called the Holy Land because it’s a sacred place that you can’t just wander into, so it’d be impolite to be too careless about it Kar: What’s with the sudden essay lmao Iv: bestie’s trying to hit the nerd count shiki: You’ve been working hard all this time to get to the Holy Land, so you should enjoy it to the fullest. momo: I’ll do that!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

*Bump*

Towa: !?

???: “--Gh.”

Towa: Huh…

Towa: (He’s crouching down? I wonder if he’s okay… is it my fault for bumping into him…?)

???: “The hell are you doing?”

Towa: (Huh? That voice, I think I’ve heard it before…)

???: “C’mon, let me give you a hand.”

Towa: …G-GOD-za’s Haruto Asuka and Shift Arakawa!?

Shift: “It’s no use~... I can’t walk~...”

Haruto: “You drank too much.”

Shift: “My life’s a mess… I can’t even take another step forward…”

Haruto: “Quit overreacting just because you two broke up!”

Towa: (Ah, could it be… this is Veludo Way’s specialty…)

Shift: “I’m not overreacting! I’m always stuck playing a supporting role. At best, I’m just here to be used. I’ll never have a starring role!”

Shift: “If I keep living like this, I’ll just be stuck as a supporting role in someone else’s life.”

Shift: “What’s even the point of living like this…?”

Haruto: “Then live your own life, not someone else’s. The reason you can’t do that is because you put others at the center as the starring role.”

Haruto: “You’re the leading role in your own life. You’re the one who gets to decide what kind of life you live.”

Shift: “I’m the starring role in my own life…”

Towa: (I can’t believe they can do theater like this without a script…)

Towa: (I’ve only ever seen videos of street acts, but they were doing it so naturally. Amazing…)

Haruto: Thank you very much~!

Towa: --.

Shift: Past GOD-za performances are streaming until tomorrow! It’s only for a limited time, so don’t miss out!

*Applause*

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Towa: (It was way too lucky of me to be able to see a street act done by GOD-za’s top two here…!)

Shift: Ah, sorry for bumpin’ into ya before.

Towa: !! No! Don’t worry about it!

Shift: See ya.

Haruto: Thanks for watching us~.

*Footsteps*

Towa: Haaah~... I should’ve taken a video…

Towa: (Veludo Way really is the place to see street acts done by a whole bunch of different theater companies.)

Towa: (Maybe I’ll see them too…)

Towa: (No way, it’d be impossible to have that kind of crazy luck two times in a row, but, but, what if I really did meet my oshi…)

Towa: --.

*Paper rustling*

Towa: (It’s something that’s way too good to ever actually happen, but I’ve decided that in the unlikely event that I do meet him, I’m going to make sure I get him to autograph this.)

Towa: (My most treasured possession…)

Towa: Ah, wait, did I bring a pen to get his autograph…

Towa: (Huh, I don’t have it. Did I seriously forget it~?)

*Wind blows*

Towa: Ah--!

*Paper falls to the ground*

???: …?

[ Next Part ⇢ ]

[curiositydooropened]

Ranged • 00: Prologue

After Hell brought Horror to the Heartland, America’s dirt roads and open woods began to fall to rot and ruin. To prevent further inter dimensional slips, the government dispatched several workers, such as yourselves, to travel the country saving small communities. 

Pairing: special agent!Steve Harrington x special agent!Reader

Wordcount: 922 - This fic is episodic.

Warnings: very slowburn, coworkers to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, canon-typical gore, weapons, fighting, murder, viruses, decay, monsters *This chapter contains mentions of animal harm, blood, and vomit/nausea.

This blog is 18+ only. I do not give permission for any of my fics to be duplicated, reposted, or put into AI. Thank you!

Navigation • Masterlist

---

Moodboard • Episode 01: Firetower

Blood shone in thick, dark splatters across a freckled cheekbone. It stuck his hair to his ear and his collar to his throat. It stained a shoulder. You watched it glimmer under street lamps, watched the clench of his knuckles around the steering wheel, watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he avoided your gaze.

There was no point saying it anymore, the words exhausted their meaning a year ago, but it was true nonetheless. You can’t save everyone. You both knew it. It didn’t hurt less.

You mopped at the blood splatter on your own cheeks with a spare t-shirt to flirt a discount out of the motel attendant. He slid you a key on a novelty ring while Steve parked on the far side of the lot.

You’d set the phone on its receiver by the time he exited the shower. You rinsed bloody clothes in the sink and brushed your teeth and slipped into an oversized t-shirt. You couldn’t remember who it belonged to. Maybe you’d picked it up at a thrift store along the way. 

“Owens?” He asked, voice gruff, eyes red. A claw mark dug into the flesh of his cheek, to the bone.

You reached into your duffle for the first aid kit to procure ointment and a butterfly bandage. “Sit.” 

He sighed, but did as instructed, towel falling to his shoulder. He winced as you patted ointment into his wound. “Did he say where to go next?” 

You nodded, pressing his flesh together until it wrinkled near his eye. “Small town in Western Montana. Locals think it’s the water supply. Park ranger called it in.” 

“How far?”

“Eight hours.” You zipped the kit closed and wedged it back into your bag.

“Okay,” he muttered, tossing his towel into a corner near the sink. He stretched sore muscles with a groan, and you watched the bruise on his ribs bloom in greens and browns. The swelling was down significantly from two days earlier. “We’ll leave first thing.” 

He meant first light. You glanced out a fogged window at the glow of street lamps. The vacancy sign buzzed bright red. The sky remained dark just beyond.

“Okay.” You sighed and toed under linens that had yellowed years ago. 

Steve triple checked the lock and toted his bat from the nook near the front door to his bedside. Then, he pulled his lighter from his pants pocket and shook it to his ear. By the look on his face, it needed a refill. He placed it to the bedside table between you, just beside the Bible.

“Are you okay?” He’d asked it four times already, a compulsion you’d learned to ignore.

“Yes.” You knew better than to reciprocate, knew he wouldn’t answer you anyway. You had minimal sleep hours left. It wasn’t worth the fight. You can’t save everyone.

“I’m going to turn the light out.” He warned, sliding himself into his own double bed. A large hand reached beneath an orange lampshade and the room went dark.

The darkness was spotted orange and blue, and you fought back the images of Steve’s fists meeting and elderly man’s face. You fought back the screams that rang in your ears, the copper taste on your tongue, and that pang that lay permanent in your nostrils.

Steve shifted in his bed, springs groaning beneath his weight, and you honed in on him instead. Every night, you fell asleep to the steady in and out of his breath, the comfort of him an arm’s length away.

—

The ranger’s uniform matched the coffee and cream in your styrofoam cup. The confusion knit between his brows matched those of dozens of local law enforcement across this country over the last year. You flashed you badges and asked him to take a seat, and hours later you were holding your hand over your nose to mask the smell of decay.

The corners of Steve’s mouth pulled upwards in a grim apology, sipping his own coffee.

A room full of National Guardsmen looked aghast. There was no guarantee a burn of that size could stay contained. Half of the state could be up in flames by the end of the week.

“Better than the alternative.” You promised.

The Spread started on a cattle ranch north of town, the herd dwindling as calves and heifers slipped into cracks and broke legs and necks. A large crevasse rotted through a patch in the back forty, splitting the land down the middle from government land near to the rancher’s estate.

On the back side, it seeped into the river. Trees were downed and turned to mush and rot. Where once sat a hunting perch, now folded into a vat in the ground.

The Ranger had taken you up by four-wheeler, an excursion neither of you had been prepared for in slacks and blazers. You supposed those were hazards of the job though, wading through the remnants of a hillside in nylon stockings.

Steve rolled the cuffs of his sleeves up past his elbows to dive into the meat of a fallen tree. It came back green and gooey, but nothing had nest inside. Not yet, at least.

“You called just in time,” he wiped his hand on his pant leg and you dry heaved a little.

“So this… virus,” the Ranger gestured to the pocket of melted flesh, root to branch, “it can infect humans too?”

“If it festers too long,” you nodded.

“And what might that look like?” He asked like he already knew the answer.

---

[A/N: Here she is. These two have been my new best friends lately, the one thing I've written that actually stuck because it felt good. Let's hope it stays that way so I can keep riding this train. I don't know how often I'll update this, but it'll be on-going. I'd love to write blurbs, and I have a few episode locations/monsters in mind.

I'd really appreciate it if you reblogged and/or left me a comment. Or if you're more inclined, head to my Ao3 and leave me a comment there. It'd really mean the whole world. xoxoxo]

[johnmarstonswife]

Partners in Crime till’ the Day we Die #1

꣑ৎ ⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓ 𓃗 ⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓ ꣑ৎ

Chapter one: Second Chances

fandom : red dead redemption online & 2 pairing : sean macguire x f!reader word count : ~2,300 rating : mature warnings : minor coarse language, mentions of hanging and murder, opening spoilers for red dead online summary : you escape Sisika Penitentiary from your wrongful hanging with the help of a stranger— who happens to be more connected with your situation than you thought.

a/n : hey !! thank you for choosing to read my first fanfic and first chapter of this story <3 ive been absolutely OBSESSED with sean lately and starting this feeds my addiction, so i hope this does too for you ! sadly, this chapter does not feature sean yet its basically all lore and story, but stay tuned for when our favourite irishman appears 🫶

꣑ৎ ⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓ 𓃗 ⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓ ꣑ৎ

The air was hazy from the saw dust and various other debris flying around. The burning hot sun beamed into the gravel and unkept grass beneath your feet. Stone walls encase you as you hack into the stone pathway with no avail. Working on something which you’re not even sure what it is. Mindlessly hacking at the stone, which stays unchanging no matter how much you swing the hammer as sweat beads at your forehead. This never ending hell, was Sisika Penitentiary. An isolated island for criminals and outlaws alike.

Suddenly, a guard walks up, watching the you and the other prisoners labour with construction. The guard’s voice speaks up with conviction, “You.” He points at a prisoner sweeping the cobble, “You.” He points again at another person. Picking people out at random from the dozen of prisoners. Like some sort of wealthy widow picking out clothing in a tailor. “You with the hammer… and you, you’ll do.” He says, finger pointed at you as you stop mining. Swiping the glistening sweat off your forehead and looking up, feeling the itchy clothing of the striped uniform on your sticky skin as you listen to the guard speak— god these guard’s voices were irritating.

“We need to perform a work detail out near Tumbleweed. Come on get in.” He instructs, walking over to the caged wagon and swinging open the creaking open the metal gate. The three other prisoners swiftly make their way to the cage, climbing in and taking their seats. You follow close behind, climbing in too. You don’t really care where you’re heading, as long as you get out of this miserable place, it’ll be better than nothing.

Shutting the doors, the two guards hop on the front and whip the coach out the large steel gates, out of the massive, thick stone walls that confined you and out onto the bridge. On the way out of the island. As you and the other prisoners ride in the back, You could only think of how long this journey will be. Sisika, all the way to Tumbleweed? That’s basically across the country. But, what were you to complain? You were out. More of a chance to escape your wrongful conviction.

And you were sure right. The ride was long, but the new scenery was a welcome change of pace, finally seeing large green fields and houses other than dusty cells and unkept gardens— if you could call them that. The guards talked on about some random things you couldn’t care to listen to. The usual bickering of a guard and prisoner, and the rolling of the wheels on the dirt road, bumping slightly over a rock here and there. As well as a couple sexist comments from the guard as you physically try to not roll your eyes into the back of your head. Hopefully it’ll be over soon. Though, seeing out the bars of the cage; out at the vast, grassy, green plains of the Heartlands— it was going to be a long while. Though you already knew that, the confirmation still wasn’t pleasant.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ 𓃵𓃶𓃵𓃚 ⛰︎ ོ ༄ ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

If the sun wasn’t already blazing, it was even more boiling than before and twice as much arid. Dusty green, prickly cactus and vast desert surround you and your back seems to ache from the long ride and sitting on mere wood; more than it did when you were axing at stone back at the penitentiary. This long of a ride, this landscape, and this weather? This was New Austin alright. Your dry, blistering hot, desert home. Where you grew up as a young lass. But before you could reminisce any longer, the wheels roll slow and come to a stop in the middle of the long dirt road— which seemed to go on forever past the mesas and valleys of rocky, orange desert.

“Good day gentleman.” An unfamiliar voice speaks, calm but assertive. You manage to push your head against the metal cage and peer out the side, just barely able to peer out at the older man leisurely leaning against the door of a fancy looking stagecoach blocking the road, rifle in hand. The older man warns, “Don’t do anything stupid, nobody gets shot.” As two other armed men, covering their identities with red bandanas came out the back, pointing a repeater to the guards driving the wagon at the top.

Witnessing this, your heart was racing. Is this really happening? Hope filled your body as the main man and company steps closer to the wagon that was holding you and your fellow inmates captive. Are you finally going to be set free? You thought to yourself; in any other situation, this would be terrifying, but this, oh this was just brilliant.

The older, main man asks for the guards names politely and out of courtesy— though it was not needed as armed men threatening you in the middle of the desert wouldn’t care all too much about the names of the people they’re holding at gunpoint. “Now what are your names?” He ‘asks’ in a light, non threatening tone, which was actually very threatening considering the situation. The guard that was yapping his trap the whole time lifts his hands slightly up in defence, “Jenkins, and Milliken.” He answers, gesturing to himself and to his partner in law, never putting his left hand down to ought to not get shot. The man tells them to throw their guns down and get out of their seats. They comply, stepping down with their arms up as the man continues on to threat, in a stern, but not aggressive manner. But, the words your ears basically perk up on was hearing the gentleman ask— no, demand, “Let em’ out. Now! Please.”

Yours and everyone else’s in that cage eyes glimmered with hope. Sure enough, the guards walk cautiously to the back of the wagon where the door was, fumbling his silver and brass keys, inserting the metal into the keyhole— and unlocks it. The doors fling open and the prisoners accompanying you and yourself sit your hands up to make sure you don’t get shot by these armed men. You don’t know what they are going to do with you and everyone else, or why they stopped the wagon, but sure as hell shouldn’t assume you all were safe all too soon.

“You all run away.” The same man tells the lot of you, rifle leaning on his well dressed shoulder. The bandanna-ed company behind still, pointing their guns and looking tough. You wasn’t dumb enough to find out if they were all they were worked up to be or not though. Before you or the others could get out the god forsaken cage, the man points his finger at you as he peers in. “Aside from you.” He finished, as if you were again, picked out by random.

God, you thought to yourself, your luck was just amazing. You could have been free if you just avoided eye contact. The man goes on to say how this is good fortune for all of you and tells Jenkins and Milliken to run away in a threat and dreadful glare. The two comply and start running off to who knows where into the endless desert. Before you could even get out the cage, the man talks about his payment to the two bandanna-ed, menacing men. Paying the two fifty each. Fifty each? This man must be rich. Hell, you’re either in really good hands or really bad hands if he would pay 100 American dollars just for this. He again, tells the two to get out of here and thanks them, “My employer and I appreciate your professionalism.”

A hired man replies, “All we did was stand there and look tough.” He says with a mix of surprise and confusion.

“And you did it fantastically well.” The man answers with a quip. The two hired men briskly going their ways; presumably happy. The still unnamed man who saved you and the other prisoners turns to you as you jump out the caged wagon to the dirt underneath your bare feet. Standing free, finally.

Before you could even peep a word, “Now, miss.” He starts, resting that rifle on his shoulder and walking past you in a leisurely pace. “How bout’ you pick up these guns… and we move out.” He suggests, less of a suggestion, since it’s pretty much the only thing you could do as an option. You bend down to pick up the stray, worn gun belt sitting on the dusty, dirt below, grabbing it and setting it along your hips loosely.

“My mistress is waiting for us.” He states. You look up and just nod slightly, still a little speechless on what just happened in that short span of time. Still processing it through if this situation was real or you just passed out from heatstroke.

Even if that was the case, you couldn’t care less. Taking in the sun kissing your skin, the golden star casting hot rays onto the sweat on your forehead. Shining and weaving through the strands of your— albeit, slightly weathered hair. Feeling the warm, almost comforting dirt under your feet and between your toes, and looking off into the distance. Soft hills, dunes, buttes and mesas of the desert of New Austin, welcoming a new chapter of your life. Things change now. You’re sure of it.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ ོ༘₊⁺⋆.˚ 𐚁𓆈𓄀⋆⭒˚｡⋆ ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

After peering around, the man led you to a spare scrawny horse, supposedly brought along by the stage coach that was blocking the road, which was now soon to be abandoned. He asked for you to ride with him on that horse, explaining it should only be a short ride anyway.

You both rode out further along the sandy, dry, dirt road. He began to speak as he road in a brisk canter down the dusty roads and through the slightly sandy, rocky, dry grassed terrain of New Austin— you following close behind. The air somewhat hazy with how arid it was.

“I hope you’ll forgive the secrecy. My employer particularly values discretion.” The man explains whilst he rides in front, as you follow close behind. “My name is Mr. Horley, by the way.” He introduces himself, which you were going to respond with your own greetings, but before you could say a word he trails off. “Six months at Sisika Penitentiary…” Leading you to realise he probably knows who you are already. “awaiting a hanging for a murder you did not commit.” Mr. Horley continues, which he was correct. How did he know how long you were in Sisika? How did he know your reason for being in that hell hole? So you weren’t picked at random? He was definitely not a lawman— anybody could tell you that— so who was this, ‘Mr. Horley’ and his employer?

You finally speak up, confused as you furrows your eyebrows, knitting them together whilst trying to make sense of all this. Spurring the horse below you faster to catch up to Horley, trotting beside him. “How… How do you know who I am?” You question, trying to catch his attention; examining his face and expression as for any hint or clue. He continues to look forward onto the dirt road.

“You’ll find out in a minute.” He answered collected, as you continue to follow him down the trail, the trot quickening. He soon continued, “You still seem strong, though. I mean, it doesn’t look like breaking all those rocks has left you entirely broken… in body or in spirit. I hope I am right about that.” He pauses for a moment.

“Roundin’ you folks up… and those sham trials? They were a disgrace. Made a mockery of the rule of law. I still can’t quite believe they got away with it.” Mr. Horley ranted, he knew much more about what happened to you than you thought. Talking about the trial you had attended and how during that trial you were framed for murder.

You scoff softly in amusement at his remarks, you can admit, you do agree with that statement. “Me neither.” You reply, shaking your head lightly in disbelief.

“There’s others convicted when you were, came out breathing fire.” He retells how previous people like you sought out a burning revenge at the people who wronged them, convicted them falsely and or set them up. “Maybe you’re like that, too. Guess we’ll see. Or maybe, you just want to put it all behind you, forget you were in there at all.” He says, stating what you could do since you’re out. “That would be fine, of course.” Horley resents, a hint of sarcasm laced into it.

“Yeah… we’ll see.” You nod, of course you want to get revenge. You were almost HANGED for something you did not commit. And some bastards are walking free without a care in the world. But with nothing to your name except a gun belt and prison uniform; there wasn’t much you could do— yet.

But before another word of this situation is spoken, you both arrive at a camp after that brisk ride. Turning gently, just short of a branch off to the left of the road. Approaching the fairly organised, well set up camp out in the open desert, Mr. Horley tells to hitch up the horses at the two posts on the edge of camp; doing so, climbing off the scrawny steed and landing on the sandy dirt once more. You gaze around the campsite, small patches of green grass poke out through the sandy dirt, cactus and various rocks and boulders are freckled around the surrounding vicinity, and rocky, sandy hills and valleys stand on the horizon, fading softer, and softer into the distance.

This is better than that penitentiary— that’s for sure.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ 𓅰 𓅬 𓅭 𓅮 𓅯 ོ ༄﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THANKS FOR READING MY FIRST FANFIC ‼️ hope you liked it because geez I haven’t written in a bit 😭😭 let me know what you think and say literally ANYTHING because I have no clue what I think of it 🙏

kind stayed up till 3am for this… 😭

[afoppicturesbyalira]

The highlands or also called the heartland is for me a truly beautiful place all the many bright colors….the vastness and freedom that you can enjoy on the back of a Pa'li or even on his Ikran as if there is no beginning and no end, up to the steep cliffs by the sea who knows if we can fly over it someday

[fatehbaz]

[In] the making and unmaking of amphibious urban modernity in Recife in the Northeast of Brazil [...] the transformation of the city was predicated on [...] [a] notion of whiteness that required the enclosure of wet, amphibious space to make dry land. [...] Racialised groups - of black, indigenous, and mixed heritages - and the houses, marshlands, and mangroves where they lived, were subject to eradication [...]. [F]rom the 1920s to 1950s, during the rise to hegemony in Brazil of [a particular form of nationalism,] [...] [the] idea's heartland [was] the Northeast. This period gave birth to Brazilian urban modernity [...]. [F]orests, wetness, and the spectre of commonly held land were understood as threats to whiteness and its self-association with order, purity [...]. To answer the question of why the racial division of nature was so important, [...] turn to the hygienic, boundary-making practices of the Brazilian Estado Novo [...] [and its] eugenic visions [...].

Nature is deeply imbricated in the processes of white supremacy [...]. Recife is one of the largest cities in Brazil, and one of the oldest. [...] Recife is also a centre of Brazilian black culture [...]. One of the key sites in Brazil's slave and sugar trades [...], the city was [...] [a] hub. Many of these people lived in what came to be called mocambos, a word that designated an informal dwelling, but came to mean much more. The population of the mocambos included not only black Brazilians, but sertanejos from the backlands, black and indigenous caboclos, and others [...]. Enclosure was the crucial mechanism of this division.

---

The Recifense geographer Josué de Castro contended that the mangroves were a kind of commons [...]. Zélia de Oliveira Gominho (2012) characterises the city's transformation [from 1920 to 1950] through the oscillation between its twin faces of “mucambópolis” and Veneza Americana (the Venice of the Americas). [...]

Mocambos were seen as [...] the place where exploited labour was kept out of sight. [...] They were also [...] the inheritance [...] of the quilombo - the community of escaped slaves. [...] Gilberto Freyre was perhaps the single most influential figure in producing this defining national myth in Brazil. In 1936, he wrote a book on the Mucambos do Nordeste [...]. Josué de Castro wrote very differently about the mangroves and mocambos. [...] He analysed Recife as “amphibious”: built half in and half out of the water [...]. When Josué de Castro [...] [wrote] in the early 1930s, the city was in the midst of political turbulence. As land values increased, the city expanded, and [...] [oppressive] politics intensified [...].

---

With the installment of the [...] [oppressive] Estado Novo regime in 1937, and its project of creating a “new man,” hygienist modernisation gathered speed. In July 1939, the proto-fascist administration [...] of Agamenon Magalhães, put in place by Getúlio Vargas' repressive Estado Novo, launched the Liga Social Contra o Mocambo (Social League Against the Mocambo, LSCM).

The League emerged out of a tellingly named “Crusade” against the mocambos. [...] Mocambos were characterised as repellent, unhygienic, and dangerous: “the mocambo which repels. The mocambo which is the tomb of a race … a sombre landscape of human misery … which mutilates human energy and annuls work [...].

The LSCM couched its civilisational, modernising mission in the conjuncture of techno-scientific discourses of medicine and planning with clear eugenic tones [...]. [T]he LSCM commissioned a fresh census of the 45,000 mocambos in the city. They brought the mocambos/mangroves into being as objects of knowledge on behalf of the economic elite and local, national, and international capital. In the 1923 census in Recife, “of 39,026 dwellings surveyed, 51.1% were considered ‘deficient’ mocambos.” [...]

---

These were the decades of the embranquecimento of the Brazilian population through public policies of immigration, miscegenation, and sterilisation [...]. This white supremacist ideology was inseparably a politics of nature. Magalhães wrote:

The idle life, the life that the income of the mocambos provides, is a life without restlessness and without greatness. It is a life of stagnant water. … [that] generates in its breast the venom of larvae, which are the enemies of life. Enemies of life, as are the mocambos and the sub-soil of cities, where the polluted waters contaminate pure waters, which come from the deepest layers of the earth. (Magalhães, 1939c, n.p.)

---

Attempts to “cleanse” the city functioned through a distinct process: aterramento, the making of land. [...]

Or as 1990s mangue beat [mangrove beat] musicians [...] put it, “the fastest way also to obstruct and evacuate the soul of a city like Recife is to kill its rivers and fill up its estuaries” [...]. This racial division of nature - in alliance with, bound up with, a racial division of space - facilitated the production of spacialised white supremacy.

---

All text above by: Archie Davies. "The racial division of nature: Making land in Recife". Transactions of the Institute of British Geographers, Volume 46, Issue 2, pages 270-283. First published 29 November 2020. At: doi dot org slash 10.1111/tran.12426 [Bold emphasis and paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Presented here for teaching, commentary, criticism purposes.]

[thetombedspirit]

Avatar: Frontiers of Pandora - Sky Breaker: WARNING: SPOILERS!!!

1. Getting to run alongside the Zakru on Pa'li was the bomb. My GOD! THEY ARE MASSIVE!!

2. My son has made friends 💙 he's even hanging with Nopsi (a zakru!!!)

Nopsi loves him!!

3. My favourite old ladies are back!! (Love Nafiki calling Anufi darling!): side note, I ship it!

4. Ri'nela really coming into the Storyteller part of being Sarentu!

5. Mokasa's back. And he still has the balls to play victim here. Tried coming at Alma and throwing my mother's name in my face as if he wasn't the reason Alma even knew about them in the first place. Ugh! This bitch!

6. Oh don't mind me, just admiring my giant babies as I make them feel pretty💙

7. It's offical guys. Teylan is our little Anti-Gremlin 💙

(Dammit, no more photos!!)

8. The Games were so fun!! My favorite's the horseback archery challenge! And how does Eetu get to places so quickly!?!🤣

9. Teylan rode a pa'li. The both of them were terrified 😂 don't worry buddy, you'll get there!

10. The RDA are back, they seem to be taking special interest in Anufi and Alma. Guess they're not happy she's back in the driver seat as the Kame'tire's leader.

11. Was not expecting us to be knocked out for several days. Thankfully, it seems the core cast is okay. Mokasa is shooketh over Alma pulling him out of the rubble. Still a dick though.

12. They literally made a Valkyrie crash just to take out as many Na'vi as possible. Assholes.

The poor Zakru were either killed in the blast or fled in the chaos, Nesim is furious (rightfully so) and Harding's back.

13. Anufi and Alma have been kidnapped and Teylan confirmed that the brainscap machine could give someone brain damage and kill em, basically meaning that Spider could have literally died hadn't Quaritch pulled him out.

14. Was freaking out so bad during the NeroSect bit that I only got Alma out by 20 secs. And Harding was drowning Anufi in oxygen!?! WTF!!!

Also, Mokasa came in clutch, saving us at the last minute! But he got shot. Yikes.

15. Okay, maybe I get why people felt Harding's death was lackluster, but it certainly wasn't easy, so I don't know what people were talking about there.

But maybe just a cutscene of her crawling toward us with a pistol to give us that final farewell would be notch.

16. Mokasa finally takes responsibility for his actions toward the Sarentu and the Kame'tire and even has a moment of understanding with Alma. He rests with Eywa now.

17. It's over now. All those that remained of TAP are gone, so all that's left is the Secret of the Spires, DLC. And it makes me wonder who that have planned for the big bad. Surely Nor is gonna make a return, but I doubt he is gonna be the bad guy.

Pros; loved everything.

The new legendary tier weapons and gear, the development of the characters (my baby boy Teylan has grown so much) the colours of the Heartlands animals was stunning (pa'li could have been better) and the upgrade skills bonus was a clever way to spend the points you keep racking up (though that stops when you spend a final 5 points every skill bubble)

Cons; Glitches

There were a lot more glitches this time around. First, one of the Contributions Baskets isn't working and it's ironically the main camp one. I've given it like 20 seeds already and still nothing.

And then there was a tremor machine that was freaking out one of the runaway Zakru, but when I went to hack it to turn it off, nothing happened? Only when I blew it up with a grenade arrow did it work. Or maybe that was just me being a stup 😋

Either way, I loved everything about this DLC, glitches aside and it was a good addition to the Sarentu story and I can't wait to see what happens next.

And I'm almost finished with my Sarentu OC, so stay tuned for that. Buh-bye!!

[starryeyed-seer]

A couple jabs at Sixth Coil theorizing

Three guesses based on clues/hints at what's inside the coil.

....I ain't got a clue!!

Okay, I do, but it's always hard to feel confident and I know I'm thinking too much about my own bias. But hear me out!

Establishing details

The games are sacred to the tigers, but are not games the tigers intend to win. It's important the games go well and are visible to all, and there's an obvious nervousness to the organizers

The 6th coil and it's opening, however sacred, is not a dignified thing- it's more a grim duty.

We get here also the title 'Ambassador to the Heartlands of the Messenger' (That's the Bazaar!!) (Ambassador to the Messenger's HEARTlands huh?) and 'Gaoler of Sins' (Shames are sins, and Stone herself is (prob counts) a Shame. So the title is 'Ambassador to the Bazaar, and jailer of sins'.

Hearts are such a broad big theme it's really hard to know whose hearts we're talking about. I'm not certain what we know about Stone's heart. My instinct is that it is the Garden, or lies within the Garden. Stone and hearts are usually mentioned as 'the heart of the Elder Continent'. There's also The Sunken River (ES) which has a lot of heart mentions: below the zee, Stone's wounds have create a cave of blood and a living mirror-heart-entity. But that Heart is called 'a mountain-child', not Stone's heart.

The end of Heart's Desire takes place within the heart of the Bazaar. The Bazaar also had a body part called 'The Cladery Heart', which was surgically removed (to remove the urge/need to travel) and is not likely to be a literal heart.

Another place we hear about Hearts is here, at the shrine to the Mountain's Mother in SSeas. THE BIRTH! THE HEART! THE CHAIN! We don't know what the Birth of Stone was like. What does the Heart mean here? But we all know the Chain.

It's not known if the 'To Assemble a Heart from Dust' was specific to the tomb colonies winning or if dust was always going to be the word used. frustrating.

WHAT IS IN THERE/WHAT IS GOING ON:

1. A sealed away love

The doors to the 6th coil are sealed. Not shut, but sealed. There's no blueprints of what is beyond, because it probably doesn't exist in that kind of way. Each time we clear an event, a new sigil appears on the door, and it will open with all four. This is a correspondance gate.

The reoccurring dream for the event is a good hint. We run through a battlefield, not caring about the conflict but instead our love (who looks just like us). There's a place where the war doesn't dare tread. And an invocation of royalty.

Our love is locked away and feared. Their dread heart is locked away, and they're restrained by chains. Glass invokes Parabola and mirrors, but glass-forged could also refer to The Chain more broadly. We love this monster who is not meant to be seen, and we're trying to open the gate. In the waking world, we're doing games on the Tiger's behest to open a mysterious door.

I think Stone could have a forbidden love of her own with something from Parabola. This feels almost too up my alley, but I don't think it's out of the question. The 6th coil could be a prison, and the Games are the rare time they are allowed to reconnect: The tigers hate the is-not, but must allow their god this. It's sacred but grim. FL loves narrative parallels. It's funny to complicate the cosmic family tree even more. what if the sun had a fingerking for an in-law. Stone dreams of flight, maybe Stone met another monster to fly with.

2. More Tigers

I haven't mentioned people who go to the 6th coil don't seem to return.

The cats suggest it's always humans who go in too. It's odd to think something like this would happen and it wouldn't be better recorded in history: the last Coilheart games were during the fourth city, not insanely long ago. If the Tigers shoved some people in a death pit, end of games, you'd think that'd be remembered with resentment. (The Neath is full of ways to alter and forget memory though). People go in, they don't seem to return. But that doesn't mean they die.

My first thought on this line was that the winners become the prizes, somehow: transformed into entities like living statues crying gold tears or w/e. Suitable freaky neathy fate.

But... This is a theory someone suggested on the discord. Tigers.

........................look. What are tigers, anyway? Raised to serve a divine purpose by Stone.

The tigers at the Wakeful Eye imply the tournament is competing for something they already own (but also reference 'that shadow', again some shame to this coil). I don't know what they own beyond a great blessing from Stone. Maybe you go into the coil and you turn into a tiger, is what I'm saying. Have we ever seen a tiger cub?

(I don't know why this fills them with such disdain though- dislike sharing?)

Maybe other Coilheart games no one pressed charges because the people who went in didn't die- they just didn't come out quite the same.

3. More tigers (jailed)

Maybe in the sixth coil you can finally go see some tigers at the zoo behind bars, because it's where fingerking possessed tigers are stored. They gotta open the door sometimes for humane reasons. I don't know what the treasure is here. Secrets?

4. literally anything else

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I'm loooooving this estival though such a blast!

[felassan]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard Achievements list and current global gameplay stats towards them on Steam, under cut due to spoilers. [source link]

Text version and description of each:

"Part 1: The Minrathous Job Technically, the plan worked. Part 2: Ruin's Reach Made unexpected acquaintances in the most unusual of places. Part 3: Awakening Discovered a singing blade, and the awakening of ancient magic. Part 4: Tevinter Nights Uncovered a darkness etched deep into the streets of Minrathous and beyond. Part 5: Anvallenim Peeled back the shroud concealing a cult's dark movements and gained some valuable insight. Part 6: Old Blood, Older Oaths Faced a howling storm to discover a long-held secret, and found out what it means to be a leader. Part 7: Fire, Feather, and Fade Searched high and low to bring together a team unlike any other. Part 8: No Sacrifice Greater Practiced vigilance, found peace wanting, and witnessed the meaning of sacrifice. Part 9: Bonds and Blackened Wings Forged bonds with a family found amidst an unravelling world. Part 10: The Blood of Arlathan Followed a crimson trail weaving through the heartland of an ancient empire. Part 11: As Shadows Fall Tracked evil through the heart of Antiva, and found that light casts the longest shadows. Part 12: The Best Tales Ascended to the throne of would-be gods under the shadow of their legacy. Part 13: The Last Gambit The only thing left to lose is everything. Part 14: The Dread Wolf Rises Faced down demons, dragons, darkspawn, and even the Dread Wolf. The Ones That Last Beat the odds and walked into the sunset. The Storm Quelled The poisoned fruit ripens. In Peace Found hope in the aftermath. No Real Gods Drew out the latent magic in every Altar of the Evanuris. Reflections Helped an eluvian tinkerer find herself in a shattered world. A New Calling Helped a fearless Warden find his new calling. Death Becomes Him Helped an old necromancer define his legacy. A Song from the Stone Helped an expert scout forge a new path. Blood Ties Helped a master assassin slay his demons. City of Shadows Helped a seasoned detective uncover what lies in the shadows of her past. Little Dragon Helped a dragon hunter find the meaning of what burns inside them. A Memory of False Gods Witnessed the first memory of Fen'Harel. A Memory of Our Mistake Witnessed the second memory of Fen'Harel. A Memory of Blackened Hearts Witnessed the third memory of Fen'Harel. A Memory of Manifestation Witnessed the fourth memory of Fen'Harel. A Memory of Tranquility Witnessed the fifth memory of Fen'Harel. A Memory of an Old Friend Witnessed the sixth memory of Fen'Harel."

"A Rook Likes Shiny Things Found at least 20 Mementos and returned them to the Caretaker. A Rook Really Likes Shiny Things Found at least 80 Mementos and returned them to the Caretaker. Across the Imperial Highway Visited every district possible throughout Northern Thedas. The Talons of Vengeance Aided the Crows in sending a message to any who claim Antiva from its people. The Light in the Dark Aided the Grey Wardens in finding what remains after hearts turn to ash. The Soul of a City Aided the Shadow Dragons in their fight to reveal the corrupted soul of Minrathous. Annihilation in Arlathan Aided the Veil Jumpers to avert disaster in Arlathan once again. Call for Coin and Company Aided the Lords of Fortune in seeking valor, glory, and companionship. The Supernatural and the Strange Aided the Mourn Watch in tracking down anomalies demonic, undead, and dangerous. A Most Esteemed Purveyor Few people are worthy of an invitation, you know. A New Look Changed the look of an item for the first time. Between a Rook and a Hard Place Performed five takedowns. A Faction's Favor Upgraded a faction merchant for the first time. Rune For Improvement Socketed a rune for the first time. Falling For You Defeated an enemy by knocking them off a ledge during combat. Nostalgia Trip Tested for fall damage and survived in the Lighthouse. Clear Minds and Open Hearts Let fly your voice to Mythal. Enhancements! Fully upgraded a weapon, armor, and accessory to their highest level and rarity. Stacking the Deck Spent at least 52 points in Rook's skill trees. Bringing Down the Sky Defeated all high dragons across northern Thedas. The Unbound Broke the seals containing an ancient threat and faced down what lied inside."

[safe-from-sharp-teeth]

Trying my hand at some writing! This is a very new world I have, called the Heartlands, featuring a human kingdom of the same name in a world of monsters. (In Hiding actually takes place nowhere near the kingdom, but far up north.) This is a character prologue for someone you'll see more of later! Details and designs might change down the line. Enjoy :)

CHARACTER PROLOGUE: ASYR // IN HIDING

Asyr wishes on a comet to meet a human.

3k words, unwilling pred and unwilling prey, dragon vore, a lot of anxiety, angst, some good times that are quickly ruined, soft, safe, nonfatal vore only, blood mention

I wish to be a human.

Atop the cliffside overlooking the endless crater below lies a man. More accurately, a creature that looks like a man rests with fingers dug into the grass and soil below. A curious object stays cupped within his other hand, a light glow emanating from within his fingers. Stars glitter overhead, and what looks like a passing meteor shoots across the moonlit sky before burning, invariably, to dust.

No, no, that’s asking too much…I, uh…wish just to talk to a human. Face-to-face. Before mom gets them, at least. 

That happened all too often. A passing soul would venture into the cave systems below in search of glittering gems or relics of ancient civilizations, and they would never come out. If the traps didn’t get them, the dragons would.

My kin.

Asyr’s legs - currently dangling over the edge of the cliff - started swinging in place. It was the best way he could get that “tail waggle” energy out in this form without a tail. Pretending to be a human was just so fun! And dangerous. If Mom were to see-

His train of thought was interrupted as something felt very, very wrong. Anxious energy shot through his veins. What is it? Is something there? My hand- He opened his palm, perplexed, revealing the rock shard he had been holding. The glow had faded completely, leaving the stone with a dull blue hue. Wha…?

"Kid! Psst! Get away from the edge!"

Asyr scrambled. He nearly flung himself off the cliff, finding that these human fingernails were not nearly as good at hoisting himself up as his claws. But he managed to get himself away from the edge in a panic, his breathing erratic. A pale, human face watched him from behind a tree a good few yards away.

The human scrunched up his nose. “What are ya doing out here? If one of those creatures sees ya, you’ll…uh-” he stopped. He stepped out from the tree, revealing his full form: tall, medium build, with tangled brown hair and an unshaven face. He had a small pack on his back and a knife sheathed on his belt. In a swift motion, the man produced a crossbow from his pack and aimed it at Asyr.

“What…are ya?”

At this moment, Asyr was on his back, recovering from the scare. The human looked upside-down to him. He turned to be on his stomach, dirt mixing with his otherwise well-kept golden hair.

“Ah….Aghah…I’m…” The fledgling weighed his options. Dragons are methodical, nigh immortal creatures who can spend weeks, if not years pondering the best course of action for a certain event. Asyr didn’t have that kind of time, so he chose the option that he thought was less likely to get him killed. 

This choice would eventually be proven wrong.

“I’m…I’m a human,” he wheezed. “Same as you!”

“Mmm, ya don’t look like any human I’ve ever seen. Black eyes ‘n all. And are those horns?” The crossbow was still trained on his face.

“Native! I’m….native. One of the, er, descendants… of the humans who lived here. Doubt you’ve ever seen one of us; we live…underground…?” 

The human pondered. “So,” a gleam entered his eye, “yer saying ya know the area?” 

Asyr shuddered. He knew where this was going. He could say no. But this was a real human! When would he have this chance again? “Like the back of my talo…-hands.”

“Cool.” The human lowered the crossbow and retrieved a small object from his pocket. He walked over to Asyr, who was still lying in the dirt. The man grabbed him by the collar and yanked him to a standing position.

“I’m Jay,” he beamed. “And,” he placed a coin of solid gold into Asyr’s trembling hand, “how about ya lead me down there?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His chest felt like bursting as they descended into the pit. Typically, Asyr would just fly down, but for obvious reasons, he had to take the perilous, spiraling ramp that ran around the edge of the hole. At many points, the pair came across entrances to tunnels unknown to the fledgling, which he would simply shoo off, saying their prize was further below. The journey was awkwardly silent - Asyr had spent years daydreaming about talking to a human, and now that the chance had come, no words came out. His throat felt remarkably dry.

Instead of talking, he looked at the items that had creased his hands from holding onto them so tightly: the gold coin from Jay, and the dull, sharp rock from earlier.

“Whas’ that.”

Once again, he almost jumped in his skin. “AAh, ah, it’s…a lucky charm, I guess? It’s a piece of a comet from long ago.” Maybe I can get some information from him. “What do you know about this area, Jay?”

“Mm. Full o’ treasure, it is. Now crawling with dragons. What happened before doesn’t interest me,” he chuckled.

A sad look overtook the fledgling’s face. “W-well, you might be interested in this: it’s said that a comet struck this land a long time ago, imbuing the area with magic. Even the humans who moved in here could wield it using tools and tomes.” His eyes sparkled. “They’re long gone now, but it’s said that if you can find one of the pieces of the comet and make a wish on it, it’ll come true.” He was too embarrassed to admit how many times he had sat atop that cliff, doing this very thing.

Jay looked at the shard in the boy’s hand. “So thas’ one of the magic comet pieces, is it?”

“Well…It’s useless to me now. I think the magic’s gone if there was any-”

“Yoink.” Jay snatched the piece too quickly for Asyr to react. “Magic rocks, eh? Thanks for the tip. Could make a fortune on suckers,” he snickered.

A sparkle grew in Asyr’s eyes, his imaginary tail threatening to wag. Maybe humans have hoards, just like me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally, the pair reached a familiar tunnel to Asyr. Home. Charred remains of some former creature lie at the entrance. Mom’s warning to intruders. Oh Gods, MOM. The weight of exactly what he was doing hit him like a boulder, and Asyr struggled to breathe, his body rebelling against him.

“Are -  Are you quite sure this is a good idea?” Asyr wheezed. “I know the dragon who lives here. She - it’s dangerous. Like, really dangerous. ‘No-one-has-made-it-out-alive’ dangerous.”

Jay stiffened. “Kid, ya gotta learn a bit about treasure hunting. Dangerous izza whole point. ‘Nothing in the world is worth doing ‘less it means effort and pain and difficulty’, ‘kay? S’what we chase to feel alive.”

He steadied himself on Jay’s words. Humans believe they can do anything. He thought about the night after night that he trembled at the idea of hunting, hiding from his mother. If only I had that confidence.

“C’mon kid, let’s get a move on - while the beastie still sleeps.” Jay pat Asyr on the back, and they headed in, the dark finally swallowing them whole.

These tunnels may have originally been built by humans, but the dragons expanded when they moved in. Now they were massive, easily 30 feet tall by 30 feet wide. The ambiance felt…lonely.

This should be easy. I know the way…don’t I? As the pair ventured further in, the fledgling couldn’t help but feel a rising panic setting in. These human eyes couldn’t see in the dark like he normally could, and Jake’s paltry torch only disoriented him further. The smells were all weird, and he felt so small. A few steps as a dragon could be a few dozen for a human. Rounding a corner, the two came across a corridor lined with stone tiles. Strange holes lie between many of the tiles. 

Panic set in for Asyr. “I…I have no idea where we are. I’ve n-never seen this before.”

Jay once again patted the boy on the back. “Not to worry; ya’ve done well to lead us down here. This is a basic spike trap!” he grinned. “See the tiles that look more worn than the others? That's the path we should follow. I’ll show you.” 

“Wha-wait!” Asyr whisper-yelled as the man skipped across the stones with ease. To his surprise, Jay wasn’t skewered.

“Yer turn, kid.”

I could turn into a dragon right now and fly across. Or I could leave and never look back. But…Asyr looked at Jay’s face, a smirk lining it. He believes in me. Just pretend I’m human. I’m human…And he leaped.

Asyr ran across the tiles with an unbalanced, awkward gait. Human bodies were quite hard to control, after all. Unfortunately, this started setting off spikes mere inches from his body, causing him to barely hold in a scream. In slow motion, Jay’s smile fully turned into a grimace, expecting his partner in crime to turn into a kebab. He was pleasantly surprised(and immediately annoyed) when Asyr bounded over the last tile and scampered straight into him, knocking the two of them over.

“GAH - KID,” the human exclaimed, ready to shove the anxious mess of a person off of him. He stopped when he felt tears plop onto his shirt. “...Ya okay, kid?”

“I-I’m alive,” the fledgling sniffled, a smile spread across his face. “Th-that was the scariest th-thing I’ve ever done. Second scariest,” he rasped. 

Jay patted his head. “Here, les’ get up.” Asyr removed himself from the human, and the both of them stood back up, dust clinging to their outfits. “Not bad for your…presumably…first trap ever. (How in the world are you still alive down here) Ya know, how about…when we get the treasure, I give ya a share…like 10% for your help. And ya know that gold coin I gave ya?” Asyr nodded.

“Les’ go out after this. Get a nice meal together. Ya can use that to pay.”

Tears welled in his eyes, and Asyr hugged the roguish human. It was the first hug that the fledgling had ever experienced. Warmth flooded through the cold-blooded creature, turning his cheeks a rosy pink. My first friend.

Jay groaned. “‘Kay, kid, c’mon. We got through one trap.”

Asyr tentatively let go, laughing. Joy couldn’t help but overflow from his face. “And we’ll get through a dozen more!” They started their path forward. Jay rolled his eyes as Asyr continued, “With you, I think we can beat any-”

The net underneath them, currently hidden between the tiles, sprung upwards. In a split second, Jay and Asyr were dangling 30 feet above the ground.

“-traps.”

Jay’s demeanor began to change. “Ha, ah, um, didn’t see that one coming. L-luckily, I have a knife just for moments like this.” he unsheathed the knife from his waist and began to cut at the large net holding them in place.

Asyr felt panic rise in him for what felt like the hundredth time on this mission. But look, Jay knows what he’s doing. He’s a seasoned adventurer. It can’t get any worse.

And then, an alarm started blaring. A bell, ringing and ringing and ringing. The fledgling’s eyes went wide. He had only heard this bell a few times before when some poor soul had come for Mom’s hoard. She would always come back with blood around her mouth.

“J-JAY, can you get us o-ouT OF HERE-” Asyr said, terrified.

“It’s a huge fall! I-I’m not sure we’d even make it!” Jay stammered in response.

“PLEASE,” Asyr sobbed, reaching to wrestle the knife from his hands.

But it was too late for them to escape, even if they could survive the fall. A low growwwwllll echoed through the corridor, a huff of smoke accompanying it. Asyr tried to back up as far as he could, but the net made the situation impossible to get away from. He couldn’t even transform back into a dragon without potentially strangling himself in the net, or crushing Jay. He could only watch in terror as Ervyr, the Firebreather - his mother - leisurely crept into view.

Ervyr had a terrifying air about her. She’s one of the only Lung Dragons to still exist, and even rarer, one of the few of her kind to have been consumed by greed. She’s jet-black in appearance, with fangs larger than a human head. Her hoard is legendary and encompasses much of the Northern Crater. To try to pillage even a speck of gold from it is a monumentally foolish decision.

“Two humans,” she rumbled, “after my hoard.” She stepped on the spike trap, the spikes piercing upwards into her skin. It didn’t make a dent. “How would you like to die? Boiled? Charred?” Continuous smoke exited her nostrils. She reached out towards the net, easily slicing the top of it with a single claw, a paw underneath to catch her prey. Now, Jay and Asyr were “free”...in the hands of a dragon that wanted to kill them, of course.

“M-Mama,” Asyr croaked. There is no way to get out of this. There is no way to get out of this. We’re going to die.

“Oh look,” she puffed out a breath of smoke. “This one’s calling for their mama. Does the other one have anything to say?”

Jay was petrified. He looked like the wind had been completely knocked out of him. Still, he tried to respond. “‘S the kid. H-he brought me here; he knows about the hoard - G-gods above, kill ‘im, not m-me. I’ll tell me friends n-not to ever come ‘ere, ma’am.”

Ervyr grinned, picking up Asyr by the shirt and holding him above her mouth. Asyr squirmed, barely even registering Jay’s betrayal. “I loooooove humans. So deceptive. And so tasty, too. Looks like your time is up, kid~” she opened her jaws, her massive forked tongue lolling out. 

“Mama!! Mama!! MAMA!!!” Asyr wailed, snapping out of the shock of the situation. In an instant, he was back in his dragon form, resembling a much smaller and less fearsome Ervyr. He squirmed out of his mother’s grasp, floating in place.

She blinked with all three of her inner eyelids, Jay still cupped in her hand. Silence filled the corridor. Asyr dared not move, speak, or touch her. She had never caught him in any other form before, and a pit of dread lay in his throat thinking about what she thought of him gallivanting around as a lowly human. She had taught him to believe dragons were superior to all others. 

“Asyr.” she breathed, smoke exiting her nostrils. “What a great teachable moment you have thrust yourself into.” She uncupped Jay, who was currently stabbing at her paw with his knife. It did absolutely nothing. She grasped the knife between two claws before throwing it to the side. “You see, I will forget your little…transgression just now, under one condition.” Her claws sliced off Jay’s pack, and it unceremoniously fell on the floor.

“You eat this one.”

Asyr tensed, a shaky breath escaping him. “Mama, please-”

“YOU EAT THIS ONE,” she ROARED, the cavern walls shaking from the tremor. Smoke billowed from her mouth. The only other noise was Jay babbling to himself, praying to any god that might hear him. 

“Yes, Mama.”

“First lesson: humans carry weapons. I took care of it for you. How loving am I,” she spat, flinging the human at Asyr. The fledgling wasn’t nearly as big as her, so the human smacked him in the maw, pain shooting through his face. He managed to catch the human by the shoulders, holding on as Jay squirmed. 

“E-eat me and I’ll punch and kick and end ya, beastie,” Jay jabbered. 

“Now,” she sat back, still floating in the air. “Go ahead. Your first human. How exciting.”

Asyr trembled. He couldn’t. He simply couldn’t. This was the first human he had ever talked to, his wish upon a comet shard. No matter how Jay acted, Asyr could not find it in himself to hate him more than he hated himself. I will not kill him. I REFUSE. And yet, that refusal would mean Jay would get eaten by his mom. There is no way to get out of this. There is no way to get out of this.

And yet…

He looked down at the sniveling human, just big enough to fully fit into his maw. I could eat him in one go, and then release him outside as soon as I could. Trepidation filled his body once more. He had never done anything like this before - would he choke? He didn’t exactly have a choice. I will keep you safe.

He tentatively opened his mouth, gingerly pushing the human inside. Jay squirmed further, kicking and screaming until his arm caught on one of Asyr’s fangs, slicing into him. Jay gasped and held his arm to his chest. The dragon winced. No! Don’t squirm! He wished he could tell him as blood slid down his gullet. He shivered, hating every gulp as he forced the human further and further within him.

“Euuuaugh.” Asyr exhaled, his last gllp audible as the human slipped into him. It was awful. Whatever enjoyment could be had in this process was overshadowed by the massive stress of this entire ordeal. 

“Whole and alive?~” his mother laughed. “Perhaps you’ll be able to leave the nest earlier than I thought.” She turned away, looking back at the young dragon. “I’m off to find my dinner. You’ve given me quite the appetite.” With that, she turned a corner and disappeared.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vomiting out Jay was as uncomfortable an experience as eating him in the first place, Asyr found. And yet, he persisted, spitting Jay out on the same hill in which they first met. Once he was fully out of him, Asyr transformed back into his human form, wiping the saliva and stomach juices from his lips. In the distance, the sun was beginning to rise.

“Jay!! JAY!! I didn’t hurt you, did I? Oh gods, please don’t tell me my stomach hurt you. I can’t,” he sniffed, “I can’t bear any more heartbreak.”

Jay scrambled backward, protecting his arm and rising groggily, falling back onto the ground. 

“Yer SICK. Yer a FREAK!” he yelled, furiously wiping slime off his face.

“I HAD to,” he quivered. “B..But look! We’re both safe now.” He reached into his pocket, producing the gold coin he was gifted before. “We can go…out…somewhere…” he trailed off as the human sprinted away from view. The fledgling’s lower lip quivered. Heat bloomed in his face.

No one likes a dragon.

No one likes….me.

(Thanks for reading, errrrr it'll get better for Asyr soon enough...yeah...)