#Dominion Trust Building

[rabbitcruiser]

Downtown Vancouver (No. 7)

The Dominion Building sits across the street from Victory Square, site of the former provincial courthouse, which was relocated to Georgia Street in 1913. The Dominion Building was at the hub of the city's financial and legal district until that move.

The backside of the building (containing the emergency staircases) and Cambie Street was filmed during the street scenes of The Neverending Story. It can be seen from Water Street.

The Dominion Building can also be seen at the end of Jennifer Lopez's 2023 film,The Mother, as she looks down into Victory Square from the 14th floor, nearing the end of the film.

The Dominion Building, as well as other elements of Victory Square, were filmed for scenes in an abandoned city in Battlestar Galactica.

The initial rooftop chase scene from Blade: Trinity was shot at the Dominion building.

The 2012 TV show Alcatraz also used this as a location in the opening episode, although the program was set in San Francisco, a lot of the location work was done in Vancouver. The Dominion building can also be seen in the background later in the series when a landmine is found in Victory Square.

Can Lit. author Timothy Taylor. maintains a writing office in this building.

Source: Wikipedia

[idonotbitemythumbatyou]

By the will of the prophets, by the end of the series Sisko (and thus Bajor) has formed strong personal bonds of friendship with figures of political influence in nearly every major power that could be a threat to Bajor, or could simply be a help to Bajor’s growth.

The Federation: it would have been enough for him just to be there, but Sisko’s war hero status makes their investment in Bajor more personal.

The Klingon Empire: Worf - (as outlined in this post) is almost comedically well connected, and practically handpicked the Chancellor himself.

The Founders, (and thus the Dominion) : Odo is sent back to temper his people with a love for a Bajoran woman that will live with him the great link forever.

Ferenginar - Sisko performed the Grand Nagus’ wedding ceremony (to a Bajoran, no less. Leeta is part of this too), and personally mentored his son.

Cardassia - Garak will likely have some influence in the new government given his skills and role in the war. Of course, no matter how much he owes Sisko, he’s too capricious on his own to be trusted with Bajor’s safety, so they granted him the tempering influence of a profound relationship with a federation doctor. Whether you think they get married post canon or not (they do), wild horses couldn’t keep Julian frontier-medicine Bashir from going to help rebuild Cardassia.

I 100% think this was all planned by the prophets. It had to be that exact moment with those exact people. (We’re just missing the Romulans, really. Bit of an oversight.)

And then they left Kira there to oversee it all, and maintain those relationships, Kassidy to build his temple according to his specifications, and Jake to tell the story.

[journeythroughtarot]

Walk Your Path - Where will you find yourself?

Choose an image that resonates and read your card below. Want a reading? Check out my links or send me a message.

Pile 1 - On the Road

Queen of Water & Faith

You are on the road, adapting to the lay of the land, but is it a hard road or an easy one? Or are you simply making it harder for yourself? Before you is a road with nothing but yourself and your own two feet. No matter the struggles that you encounter or will inevitably face, it is up to you and your faith in yourself that will see you through. We can easily get stuck when we see how hard it could be or get distracted by our emotions and what they are telling us. This pile is all about having trust in yourself as you take on the future, adapting to what comes, always being flexible and flowing with your emotions as you traverse what the path is here to show you. Having trust in what your emotions reveal to you will help you move forward, ever tackling what the next stretch of path will show you. Without this trust in yourself and what you are able to create, you may wobble and find yourself faced with the difficult sea strong waves of your emotions. Use this power wisely, as how you use your emotions to slow you or quicken your path will determine how far you must go.

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Pile 2 - Help and Guidance

Queen of Earth & The Father

You are the ruler of your own world. Your own creator, your own visionary, building the space that you wish to see with the people you love. Like a gardener, you organise the garden that you wish to see, with the flowers, plants, and trees that you want to adorn your life. Where your focus is and what you pour into your world is what inhabits this garden. It can be difficult then to give into change, into something new or unknown. We create familiar worlds that tilter and when we lose balance, we feel lost and uncertain. This pile is all about listening to your helper, your guide. Some outside source with an outside perspective, something new or different or altering, is trying to show you a different way to guide you forward. Listen to what the world is showing you. You will always have the power to make the next move, to go where you wish to go. It is all up to you whether you invite the change in and learn from the garden you have created. Your own dominion, flourishing as it is, needs a guide and protector. This is and always will be you, standing in yourself and the role you possess. Guidance is needed so don't be afraid to explore more of yourself or ask for help. Give yourself the reassurance and inner stability you need to change the world that you know.

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Pile 3 - In the Waters

The Mother & Water 2

We create our own rules and then expect ourselves to play by them. When we falter, or the world around us dares to become different to what we know, it can make us feel out of control. We are the creators of our own burdens and when we tie ourselves to things, we hold onto them. Letting them go can be difficult and take a hold of where our path takes us. This pile is about being satisfied with ourselves and our lives, being happy with who we are and appreciating what we have created. When we are not, we find ourselves looking for harmony and for our desires to be met. This could be in the form of something that will save us or love us, something that will give our lives meaning or change it for the better. Everything you are looking for however is within you. You are capable beyond what you know. Embrace everything that you are, everything that you wish to be, everything that is you. We can only lead ourselves when we accept and love who we are, so that we can be knowing of where we stand. Come back to you and find unity within.

[gusty-wind]

Tina Peters in summary was a Colorado election official who retained an unauthorized copy of the 2020 voter records of her county as a safeguard as required by Federal law prior to a post-election software update called "Trusted Build" from Dominion.

In any normal world, state officials would want to compare those pre and post software update records to assure that the Federal 24 month records maintenance laws were being faithfully followed. That's not what happened. Not even close.

Now the Colorado Secretary of State - who led the persecution of Tina Peters - has committed and even greater crime, apparently, a Class 5 felony.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

David Badash at NCRM:

U.S. Senator Josh Hawley (R-MO) declared Monday he is advocating for Christian nationalism, a far-right ideology that claims there is no separation of church and state in the Constitution, and promotes as a national religion Christian fundamentalism, a hardline, extremist brand of Christianity at odds with the religious beliefs of many Christians across the country. It opposes LGBTQ people and people of other faiths or of no faith, and their civil rights. It often has links to neo-Nazis, white supremacy, and dominionism, and many see Russia and Russia’s president, Vladimir Putin, as its leader.

“Some will say I’m calling America a Christian nation. And so I am. Some will say I’m advocating Christian nationalism. And so I do. My question is – is there any other kind worth having?” Senator Hawley said at “NatCon 4,” the National Conservatism conference being held in Washington, D.C., this week (video below), as reported by Semafor’s David Weigel.

Sen. Hawley, not backing down, promoted his remarks by reposting them on social media. Senator Hawley told attendees at the far-right conference, “Christian nationalism founded American democracy.. the Christian political tradition is our political tradition,” Weigel also reported. “They want the religion of the pride flag. We want the religion of the Bible. I have a suggestion: Why don’t we take down the trans flag from all the federal buildings from which it’s flying, and instead, inscribe on every federal building our national motto: In God We Trust?” Hawley also reportedly said. [...] National Conservatism is a multinational “project” created by the Edmund Burke Foundation, a Netherlands-based group.

Senator Josh Hawley (R-MO) spoke at NatCon recently and declared that he is “advocating Christian nationalism”. Hawley pushed the lie that “Christian nationalism founded American democracy.”

[pitviperofdoom]

PITS JONGERRYS LETS GO

Uhhh uMMMMMM URBAN FANTASY JONGERRYS

Things had escalated. With Gerard Keay involved, that meant something inevitably wound up on fire.

The initial blast took out two of Jon’s attackers and threw the rest into confusion. He was already running the second he was free, reaching out blindly until Gerard found his wrist. Without a word, his bodyguard shoved him to the front and sent another fireball into the cultists behind them. The flames, as always when they came from Gerard, burned hot and spread fast. The resulting confusion left their pursuers in disarray, but the spread of the flames cut off their exits as thoroughly as the cultists’ pursuit.

In the end, their only recourse was to flee deeper into the Rayner compound, away from the screams and shouts of their would-be captors.

Jon kept his mouth shut, breathing deeply and evenly as Gerard hurried him along. He was getting used to running, he thought wryly. Less than a year ago he would’ve been gasping and staggering after the first three hallways, but now his breath came easily, and he barely registered the burn in his legs until they finally came to a halt.

A spacious storage closet served as a temporary refuge; the closet itself was dark and unlit, but a small window at Gerard’s eye level provided him with a vantage point. Jon leaned against the wall to catch his breath.

“Lost them for now,” Gerard murmured. “Won’t matter much if we can’t get out of here.”

“Mm.” Jon let out a long, slow breath. “I think it’s safe to say that relations between Elias and the People’s Church have thoroughly broken down.”

“Long time coming, if you ask me. Mum always says Rayner’s lot don’t want anything less than total dominion. So alliances don’t tend to—”

Abruptly he went still and silent, ducking away from the window. Footsteps rushed past outside; a shadow fell over the dim beam of light that leaked through. Jon didn’t dare move. Eventually, after a few heart-pounding seconds, the figure outside moved on and joined the rest of the cultists searching the building.

The silence lasted nearly two full minutes before Jon built up the nerve to speak again. “Gerard?”

A soft sigh emanated from the darkness. “Thought I told you to call me Gerry.”

“I… haven’t forgotten,” Jon replied. “Gerry, then.”

The name felt uncomfortable on his tongue, even with permission. It held meaning, he knew. Gerard—Gerry had thrown it out in an off-hand manner, but Jon didn’t need to be a seer to sense the weight in that request. It wasn’t just a preference; it was an offer of trust, a wall coming down, a privilege that Jon had somehow earned, entirely without meaning to, without offering anything in return.

“I’ll follow your lead,” he said.

Gerry’s face hovered into the light again, casting sharp shadows over his features. “Not quite good enough.”

“What?”

With a sigh, Gerry let his eyes slide shut. “There’s too many of them. If we make a break for it, they’ll run us down, overwhelm us with sheer numbers.” His eyes opened, focusing on Jon. “You’re fast. A lot faster than you used to be, at least. All you need to get away is a diversion.”

“I don’t like where this is headed—”

“I’ll be fine,” Gerry said calmly, with a roll of his eyes. “And most importantly, you’ll be fine. You’ve got the easy bit. All you have to do is run fast until you’re out. I’ll take care of the rest.”

He reached for the door handle. Jon got there first.

***

Jon’s hand closed around his wrist, tight enough to make his fingers tingle. Gerry jerked back with a surprised hiss, but Jon refused to let go.

“Gerry, stop,” he hissed. “It won’t work.”

“Oh ye of little faith.” It was getting a little harder to keep his voice steady. Sure, his chances were slim, but that was nothing new. Slim chances were his baseline.

“No, listen to me,” Jon gritted out, yanking him away from the door. “It won’t work. There are too many of them and they’re spread out through the building. No matter where, when, or how you try to make a stand, I won’t even make it outside.”

Conviction rang in every word, bringing Gerry up short. He looked back; in the dim light through the door’s small window, he could see the set of Jon’s face.

“Trust me,” Jon pleaded. “I know.”

Gerry’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know? I didn’t see you swooning over a vision.”

“Think of something else,” Jon told him.

“Jon—”

“The longer we take to decide, the more everything shifts,” Jon snapped. “Think of something else.”

“Fine!” Gerry thought quickly. “It’s a straight shot to the east entrance from here—”

“Won’t work,” Jon cut him off. The light from the hallway struck his eyes, setting them aglow. His pupils, no longer light-absorbing black, flashed like a cat’s in the dark. “It’s too narrow—no escape routes. It’ll funnel us straight to them. Try again.”

“South, then. It leads to the warehouse—there’s plenty of places to hide.”

“The mezzanine’s already packed with armed cultists,” said Jon. “It’d be like running into a firing squad.”

“If we go further down—”

“No way out, and… there’s something down here.” Jon squinted and grimaced, free hand flying to his forehead as if in sudden pain. “I can’t—I can’t quite get the shape of it.”

“Then… up…?”

Jon blinked. “Keep going.”

“What?”

“Upstairs, then what?”

Gerry thought for a moment. “Head to the roof, take the fire escape down.”

“Fire escapes aren’t maintained, they won’t hold both of us,” said Jon. “Try again.”

“Not the roof, then. Out one of the windows. I can climb and carry you.”

“You—” Jon blinked, his strange eyes widening. “Huh. So you can.”

“Are we good?” Gerry asked.

“Wait.” Jon’s eyes flickered again, before he squeezed them shut and came back into himself. “Christ. Car park on the west side of the building. There’s a blue sedan with keys on the center console.”

“Okay.” With one last look out into the hallway, Gerry reached for the door handle. There would be time for questions later, and Gerry had many. “Get ready to run.”

***

“Want to tell me what that was about, then?”

Jon’s hands barely shook. It was a bold move, starting an interrogation when Jon was the one applying gauze to a bullet graze Gerry couldn’t reach himself. “Depends on what you want to talk about—”

“Don’t.” Gerry’s voice brooked no argument, barely stuttering even as Jon pressed a disinfectant-soaked pad to the gash over his shoulder blade.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Jon insisted. “I’m a seer. You knew that when Elias brought you on. Why are you so disconcerted over watching me see the future?”

“Because you’ve been holding out on me, Sims,” Gerry said mildly. “Holding out on him too, seems like. Does Elias know you can do that? Just peek into the future of your own accord, instead of waiting for it to creep up and pounce?”

Jon sighed.

He didn’t say anything after sighing, but he did continue to patch up Gerry’s wounds. Gerry sat patiently, holding still even as Jon’s ministrations stung his torn and scorched skin. He could be patient. Once Jon was done, he wouldn’t have an excuse to hide behind anymore.

“I’m not stupid,” Jon said. “Or naive, or sheltered. I don’t know why you thought I was when we first met.”

“You’re not my first bodyguarding gig,” Gerry told him. “In my experience, anybody who gets as petulant about being protected as you were is usually naive and a bit stupid. And after that stunt you pulled with Jude Perry, you can forgive me for coming to a reasonable conclusion.”

“That wasn’t stupidity or naivete,” Jon said primly. “That was recklessness. Learn the difference.”

“Jon.”

“I just mean—I know how people see me,” Jon went on. “What they usually want from me. It happened back when I was a kid, before my grandmother stopped letting me talk about it. Everyone wants to know something about the future, even if they think they don’t. I’m a useful tool for some, a deepest wish for others. I’ve been hiding what I am since I was a child. And when Elias identified what I was in spite of my best efforts… I thought it best to keep hiding what little I could.”

“Like having control over your own power.” Gerry’s eyes narrowed. “But you work for him. Being a seer is literally what he pays you for.”

“But I don’t know why.” Jon finished fussing over his wounds and stood back. “He pays me a wage plus a bonus for every vision I report to him, but I don’t know what he’s getting out of any of it. He’s looking for something—I know he is. I just don’t know what.”

“If you don’t know what he wants from you, but you don’t trust him enough to ask, then why stay at all?” Gerry asked. “I’ve seen your paycheck, and it’s not that good. Why do you still work for him?”

Jon moved to the sink, where he washed his hands with the methodical care of a surgeon about to walk into an operating theater. Gerry was halfway through putting his shirt back on when Jon finally replied.

“Because I haven’t found a path to quitting that doesn’t end with Elias killing me.”

Gerry froze, his shirt still rucked up over his chest.

“I’d been working for him for about… six months? When I finally admitted to myself that I wasn’t comfortable.” Jon returned to the kitchen table and sank back into the chair beside Gerry. “I didn’t think much of peeking ahead, so to speak. Elias just struck me as the sort of boss who would take a resignation personally, and I wanted to know what I’d have to deal with.” He took a deep breath. “Turns out, what I’d have to deal with was Elias coming into my home and beating me to death in a staged burglary gone wrong.”

Gerry gripped the edge of his chair until his knuckles turned white.

“I-I went through as many possible exits as I could think of,” Jon went on. “Moving wouldn’t help. Neither would changing my number, ghosting him, stringing him along to keep him from realizing I was quitting—nothing. If I try to quit, he’ll kill me. And I don’t know why.”

He stopped, steadying himself. “All I can do is just—linger. Be as useless as possible. Try to figure out what he wants from me. I-I keep checking, every now and then. Cycling through possible resignation methods. I’m—” HIs voice caught. “I’m quite sick of watching myself die, as you can imagine.”

“Can’t you use your sight to figure out what he wants?” Gerry asked.

“No, it’s—it’s not that simple, it’s—a question like that is too vague.” Jon paused, looking thoughtful. “Did your mother ever teach you about probability?”

Gerry gave him exactly the look that question deserved.

“Right, didn’t think so. Here—here’s an incredibly simplified demonstration.” Jon reached across the table and snagged a legal pad. “Right, so—imagine you’re trying to pick an outfit for the day. And you have… two pairs of trousers, three shirts, and four pairs of socks. So you start with picking the trousers.” Turning the pad sideways, he started on the left and drew a sideways V, the two branches spread wide, nearly spanning the width of the page. “These two points are your two choices of trousers. From there, you pick a shirt. Both choices of trousers can then go with three possible shirts, making six outcomes in all.” From the end of both branches, he drew three more branching lines. “And from there, you choose socks—so each of these six shirt-trouser combinations have four further possibilities for socks.” He continued drawing until the diagram resembled a sideways skeletal tree with twenty-four branches at the end. “And you can continue this ad nauseum—you’ve got three possible pairs of shoes, five possible hats, two possible pairs of gloves, and so on and so forth.” Before long, the entire page was filled with simplistic tree branches, uneven and crowding each other on the page. “Following me so far?”

“Yes?” Gerry said dubiously.

“This is, once again, an incredibly simplified version of what the future is like,” Jon explained. “It’s not a straight path. There are countless possible outcomes for every single—well. Everything. You make different choices to go down certain paths, and the choices available to you depend on random chance and the choices of the people around you, who are also living in their own tangled probability trees.” He tapped the scribbly mess on the page with his pencil. “When I use my sight of my own accord, that is what I see.”

Gerry stared down at it. “Huh.”

“The trick I pulled in the Rayner compound was… simpler than it could have been,” Jon went on. “It’s easiest to see what’s straight ahead, because that puts me back here—” he tapped at the single point on the left side of the page, from which the rest of the branches originated. “Because I can focus on myself, and my own choices, and the number of possible outcomes are slightly more manageable. The present and immediate future are always the easiest to deal with, because whenever I choose a particular branch, the rest of them… wither away, so to speak, and all the tangled might-have-beens that grew from them disappear. It frees up my attention.”

“So it’s difficult to figure out what Elias wants from you because… you don’t know how to find the right branch?”

Jon nodded. “I don’t know how to find the path that leads to him telling me.”

“Do you know what happens if you tell him the truth about your abilities?”

“I looked, once,” Jon replied. “Not for very long. None of the outcomes I could find involved him letting me outside ever again.”

“Fuck,” Gerry breathed out. “You realize you’re taking a huge risk by telling me, right? For all you know, I could take this straight to Bouchard.”

Jon’s eyes flickered again. “I’ve yet to find a branch where you do.” Gerry snorted. “And besides that…”

His scarred hand came to rest over Gerry’s. By some miracle, Gerry managed not to jump.

“We’re in this together,” Jon said. “We’re both stuck, and I’m relying on you just to keep breathing. You’ve been—good. To me. So far. You’re no friend of Elias, that’s for sure.”

“I’m not,” Gerry said firmly.

“Maybe it is a risk,” said Jon. “But I’m just—tired. I’m trapped either way, and the closest I have to company I trust are the infinite possible future versions of myself, who I can only observe and learn from. To tell you the truth, I’ve been getting a bit lonely.”

“Bit sad, that.”

“Never said it wasn’t.”

They sat in silence for a while, neither of them pulling away from the other’s touch. Gerry stared at the hand over his own through half-lidded eyes, wondering what would happen if he turned his over and held Jon’s properly. For a split second he wished he could peek ahead.

“Hey Jon?”

“Yes?”

“What happens if—” He faltered for a moment. “What happens if I’m with you when you try to leave?”

“Hm.” Jon’s eyes flickered for a moment.

Without warning, they flew open wide.

“Jon?” Gerry asked nervously.

“I…” Jon’s throat bobbed. “Sorry, that—that just opened up an entire dimension of branches that I didn’t even—” His eyes flicked from side to side, as if the entire tree of fate was sprouting and growing before him, and he could only take in a few branches at a time.

“Talk to me,” said Gerry.

“There are—a lot more answers to that question than I realized,” Jon said. “Still a lot of ways to die, but—not as immediate. There are more branches ahead, I can’t quite…” He seemed to catch his breath. “I have to think about this. But…” The strange light in his eyes went out, and he turned to look at the Gerry of here and now. “Would you do that? Are you sure?”

Gerry took Jon’s hand and squeezed. The outcome, it turned out, was Jon’s wide eyes locking on his face, and the faintest hint of a blush creeping over Jon’s skin.

“Yes.” He wondered how many paths vanished when he made his choice.

[zhakyria]

I had the chance to commission Kahl'ryn from @psychededoodle. I have no words for how much I love this. Everything, all the details, the expression, the scar, the cybernetics, everything is so well done!!

And with this amazing portrait - I'm gonna talk a bit about Kahl and what he is up to in my Arclight AU. So... some rambling thoughts under the cut. :)

For reference: The Arclight AU is a melting pot of various sci-fi franchises. Star Wars, Farscape, WildStar, Star Trek, to just name a few. However, the core of it is Star Wars. A lot of the universe rules are Star Wars rules - such as how space travel works and the Force.

The major players from Star Wars include: the Galactic Empire, the Mandalorians, the Sith Empire, the Chiss Ascendancy, the High Republic, and the Grysk Hegemony.

Much like swtor!Kahl, arclight!Kahl was born in the Sith Empire. His father is the (now former) Sith Lord Xhai'tan. He was trapped in a burning building when he was a child, which is how he got the burn scars. He joined the Imperial Academy and joined Imperial Intelligence upon graduating. Some of his first missions included hunting down terrorists and stopping Darth Jadus. For his double agent arc however, he didn't infiltrate the SIS.

In Arclight the Sith Empire is mostly at odds with the Dominion from WildStar. So, Kahl is tasked with infiltrating the Dominion and carrying out his mission there. The Star Cabal is still a threat and Kahl eventually dismantles it.

Now things really start to diverge. You see, most everything from Shadow of Revan onward doesn't happen. So how does my boy meet Theron?

I made the executive decision that since the Republic isn't the same Republic as in swtor and isn't the power in direct conflict with the Sith Empire, that Theron would instead be from the Dominion. ((I know, I know, not the best allegory if you know anything about the Dominion - like they live up to their name. Does make it way easier for Theron to defect though.))

Then I needed the catalyzing event. Enter the Dread Masters. They were imprisoned by the Dominion, but they escape but with Emperor Vitiate dead (did I mention that? no? So, yeah Emperor Vitiate does die, and after a short war between the Sith, Acina comes out on top and takes the Throne - this is also the time of Malgus's first betrayal,) they go rogue.

Kahl is called in to help with the situation by Lana and she eventually wrangles the help of Theron in tracking and defeating the Dread Masters. Much like in Shadow of Revan, Kahl and Theron grow close.

Then the tradegy of Grismara happens. For those unfamiliar with WildStar. Grismara was home to the Mordesh. A elf-like species who were masters of science, alchemy, and art. They were arrogant and proud, sure of their own superiority. That was until the Everlife Elixir, developed by their most lauded scientist became their curse. The Everlife was meant to give immortality, and they trusted Dr. Lazarin so much that it was distributed worldwide. Then the Everlife became the Contagion. Everyone (and the lore implies everyone) slowly turned into super aggressive mindless cannibals (basically zombies).

Grismara was a neutral world on the edge of Sith and Dominion borders. Both sides were trying to ally with them, but when the Contagion broke out - the Sith turned their back on the world and the Dominion set up a blockade and quarantined it.

Kahl and Theron disobeyed orders to try and help the Mordesh. During that terrible year long attempt at saving the Mordesh, Dr. Lazarin made a small break through. He created the Vitalis Serum, which delayed the effects of the Contagion, but also required frequent injections. The remaining Mordesh were trapped in a half-life. They no longer age (they got their immortality) but they also are unable to have children unless a cure can be found.

Kahl and Theron organized for the last of the Mordesh, to escape. Taking them to the Odessen Coalition. A small and new coalition of planets that came together with the help of Xhai'tan (Kahl's father) and Thrass (who is alive and rescued by Xhai'tan - That is another books of thoughts so if you are curious about how Thrass fits in here feel free to ask.)

With the fall of Grismara, Kahl and Theron defect and join the Coalition. Kahl eventually commanding a heavy cruiser as part of the Maarasu Nighthunters - the Odessen Defense Force division in charge of covert operations and missions that take place beyond the borders of the Coalition. It is Kahl who finds Thrawn and Ezra where they have been stranded for 7 years (again another book of thoughts that I can talk about later). Kahl then goes on to support Thrawn, Thrass, Eli, and the others Chiss fighting to save the Ascendancy.

I'll stop there but....yeah so lots of thoughts.....enjoy!

[hrizantemy]

Wrote this because imagine being a girl growing up in Hewn City.

Darkness seemed to follow me, a shadow that extended far beyond the reach of the sun. It was in every alleyway I passed, creeping through the narrow gaps between buildings, pooling in the corners where the streetlights failed to penetrate. Even in the daylight, when the world should have been bright and welcoming, there was always a sense of something unseen lurking just out of sight, waiting for the opportune moment to reveal itself.

Every man I encountered seemed cloaked in this darkness, their faces partially obscured, their intentions hidden behind a veil of shadows. Their eyes, cold and unfeeling, were windows to a world I could not fathom but sensed was fraught with danger. Conversations were laced with an underlying menace, a threat that whispered through the air like a secret only I was privy to. Trust became an elusive concept, something I could no longer afford.

But the worst of it was when I closed my eyes. The darkness was no longer an external force; it was internal, residing within me. It pulsated behind my eyelids, a living entity that wrapped itself around my thoughts and dreams. Sleep offered no respite, only a deeper descent into a realm where the shadows had full dominion. I would awaken, gasping for breath, the weight of the darkness pressing down on my chest, refusing to let me go.

There was no escape from it. It was as though the darkness had become a part of me, woven into the very fabric of my being. No matter how far I walked, no matter where I went, it followed. It was inescapable, an ever-present reminder that light and hope were distant dreams, perpetually out of reach.

Sometimes, the darkness felt more than just a presence; it felt like a force, an overwhelming tide that threatened to sweep me away. There were moments when it surged, rising up to consume me entirely, and in those moments, I felt an unsettling sense of surrender. The world around me, with its harsh lights and unforgiving realities, seemed less appealing than the void that beckoned.

The thought of being consumed by it wasn't frightening; it was a tempting escape. The darkness offered a strange kind of solace, a promise of release from the endless struggle of existing in a world that never quite felt like my own. It whispered sweet nothings, coaxing me with the allure of silence and stillness, a place where the relentless noise of my mind could finally be stilled.

There were times when I stood on the precipice, teetering on the edge of letting go. The pull was strong, an almost gravitational force that promised to envelop me in its cool embrace. In those moments, I wouldn't have minded if it took me. I would close my eyes and feel its tendrils wrapping around my soul, drawing me deeper into its depths. There, I imagined, I could find peace—a cessation of the ceaseless torment, the unending cycle of fear and uncertainty.

It was worse when I felt this way because it made the darkness seem not like an enemy, but a friend. It was a dangerous comfort, a seductive promise of escape that was hard to resist. The line between surrender and survival blurred, and sometimes, I felt myself slipping. The idea of being consumed entirely, of disappearing into the void, was no longer terrifying but almost desirable. In the face of such an irresistible force, my will to fight weakened, and I found myself wondering if perhaps, just perhaps, it would be easier to let go.

[throughtrialbyfire]

faendal headcanons <333333333

-he's one of the eldest siblings in a big family. when he was the youngest, he was very much the kid that's always snitching on his older siblings. as he got older and also had to take care of younger siblings himself, he found himself cringing a bit at his old behavior.

-as one of the eldest kids in the family, he found himself saddled with a lot of responsibility early on. he wound up taking on a live-in babysitter role for the younger kids, and he has very complicated feelings about his parents from this. he doesn't hate them, they were good parents and loved their family, he just wishes he got to be more of a kid.

-his family has ties to the thalmor in valenwood, and he was fully expected to participate. he learned how to read a room, how to handle himself around tense situations, how to speak to thalmor agents, etc.

-in fact, he was in the process of being fitted for armor to join the dominion forces when he realized this is not what he wanted to do with his life, not what he wanted for his future, and found himself at a wretched crossroad of choices.

-he left home in the middle of the night and left only a note. he wishes he'd gotten to speak to his siblings one last time, or to tell his whole family how much he loved them, but he can't go back to those days. it's been a long time, he's trying to leave their shadow.

-he LOVES kids and definitely wants some one day. he absolutely daydreams of teaching his future children how to hunt with a bow, how to do various crafts he learned when he was young, making tea for all of them and sitting by the hearth on a long winter's night… it may be way off into the future, but he does want a family, and hopes he gives his kids a better and more carefree childhood than he knew.

-he's extremely friendly to people, but that doesn't mean he considers just anyone his friend, y'know? it takes a bit of time and trust to build up a good rapport with him, but he extends his hand just as much as the person trying to get to know him.

-that said, he does wish he had a larger circle of friends. riverwood is a fairly small community, and with a lot of people either joining the stormcloaks or the legion or flat out moving, he doesn't have the same sense of community he did before the war.

-one of his favorite snacks is apples with honey and oats. <3

-breaking the green pact is something he never saw himself doing in a million years, but desperation takes hold once you leave valenwood and find options slim. it was a mentally rough few days for him after that first time, but it's been many years, and he's adjusted.

-bisexual faendal real and canon

-he likes puns a lot, and this WILL result in the LDB rolling their eyes so much it hurts their head the moment he's on a roll. get him started and it'll be a while before he stops seeing oppuntunities (badum TISS)

[quokkahans]

Knight with a Shining Crown

Tags: Feederism fic, royal AU, gradual wg (Chan-centric with implied immobility), mention of breaking furniture

Warning: DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ.

Ship: HyunChan (Hyunjin x Chan)

A/N: And I'm back 😈 Hope y'all enjoy a kind of holiday special from your resident author mwehehe!

request from my one and only twin: @jaethecreator 🫣🤭 hope ya like it, bestie!

AO3 LINK

【 ♡ (˘▽˘>ԅ( ˘⌣˘) 】

It was a normal day in Stayville Kingdom, where Hyunjin was the crown prince and next in line to the throne after his own father. But within the 4 corners of the walled dominion, there was some concern regarding security of the royal lineage after a series of strifes among two neighboring kingdoms, making the Court come up with preemptive steps to heighten Stayville’s security.

“A personal knight?”, Hyunjin muttered after receiving word from his father, a finger placed intently on his chin before the king hummed. “Yes, my child. I’m afraid this is just for defense purposes, we don’t want anyone to harm you and they should be with you at all costs.”

The prince fixed the sleeves of his top before running through the pages containing profiles of every person in the Royal Guard, but one in particular already caught his eye.

“I think I already have someone.”

“Who is it?”

“Chris..”

The blonde-haired boy, a bit shorter than Hyunjin and most especially he had a bulky build with strong arms, sharp eyes and that sculpted, stoic face.. Perfect for a boy to toy with– I mean, a personal knight.

Even Hyunjin’s father took an esteemed eye for the knight, since he proved to be a leading man in promoting peace and order, just what he needed. “I’ll let him know then, son. But that was quick..”, he chuckled.

The prince shook his head, “No, father. He’s just the perfect one.”

And Hyunjin didn’t lie about that. But deep inside, there was this urge to spoil Chris.. maybe give him so much food as a treat of honor, a feast fit for a trusting guard.

【 ♡ (˘▽˘>ԅ( ˘⌣˘) 】

As soon as Chan got wind of the news, he couldn’t believe it. “Me?”, he pointed a finger at himself before chuckling. “Wow.. it’s an honor. I’d gladly accept it, your majesty.”

The king smiled and nodded his head, “The prince would also like to see you in his quarters. He’s.. been waiting for you.”, he said before Chan expressed his gratitude and headed off, his heart thumping suddenly as he felt giddy.

As soon as the door opened, a full spread of food was there before him and a beaming Hyunjin who finally got to see his prized knight. “Oh, Chris! So glad you made it! Come sit!”, the prince would be all smiles and made the guard flustered at the lack of time to process the scene, but at the mention of food, he automatically knew what he was here for: a celebration.

“Oh- uh- Your majesty! You didn't have to do this, really.. I-”, Chan said, a bit overwhelmed by how the prince could even afford such a thing but a shush from Hyunjin already made him fall into silence.

The young man walked up to him and smiled, giving him a golden plate and shiny utensils before smiling sweetly. “I insist, my knight. After all, never in all the years I'm here would I get an opportunity like this..”, he mumbled. “So you better savor it.”, Hyunjin ended as he emphasized every word while placing food on Chan's plate.

Those words would leave Chan speechless, shocked to see another side of the otherwise lovely prince but a discreet blush was all it took and Chan would see himself eating the food off of his plate.

But that one plate turned into many more as Hyunjin broke his knight little by little, just encouraging Chan and teasing that he must be “eating well like a king” before starting his duties.

That made way for a stuffed Chan nursing his tummy and Hyunjin trying to restrain himself from doing anything that would stray his way, but the scene just lighted something inside him the he never knew..

After a while, Chan went back to the shared quarters of the guards and Hyunjin would see him again but the next thing on the agenda was his personal self-defense classes.

But why? Of course, Hyunjin knew how to defend himself but where was Chan in the picture?

In Hyunjin's eyes, he would be useful. Of course, he'd use the knight’s help as the job would settle on the older's shoulders but that's about it.

【 ♡ (˘▽˘>ԅ( ˘⌣˘) 】

In reality, this wouldn't be the first time since a long time that the two would cross paths. The knight and the prince were mandated to stick by each other and that meant more time for Hyunjin to know the cute knight by his side.

“So your family knew my dad? Huh, what a small world..”, Hyunjin said to which Chan nodded with a shy smile. “My dad worked for yours as a secretary, while my mom worked as one of the special seamstresses.. They had these jobs since they helped our kingdom in the past during the war.”

Those ancedotes made it more clear that the hard work ethic ran in the blood and Chan didn't let any bit go to waste, such a characteristic resembling the kingdom.

Hyunjin smiled and couldn't help but think on how much it meant not only for his dad but for him. “Well, I'd like to thank both of them for their hard work, and even you.”, he said sweetly and held his hand, making Chan blush as he was fed some special desserts as requested.

【 ♡ (˘▽˘>ԅ( ˘⌣˘) 】

As time passed by, they would spend their time together walking outside the castle or just accompany the prince in everyday things like buying from the market or on his self-defense classes.

But then, with more time getting close meant more time Hyunjin spoiling Chan with food that he could afford or already stored on the castle as the prince ordered another feast.

Time passed and Chan put on a significant amount of weight, mostly on his belly and thighs that made sure to leave a mark on his suit and even made it a bit hard to wear his armor. The continuous spoiling he received made it hard for Chan to keep up with training.

“Looks like someone's been spoiled rotten by the prince.”, Changbin smirked and patted his friend's belly to which Chan nudged him away.

“Oh, shut up! At least he treats me well..”, he blushed. “Ooh, someone's eyes are keen on a royal?”

“SHHHH!”

【 ♡ (˘▽˘>ԅ( ˘⌣˘) 】

It would be proven true after one day, when Hyunjin and Chan were guiding each other to wield a sword as the prince wanted to be prepared in case he'd go for a strife.

As their hands interlocked along the base of the sword, Chan looked at Hyunjin with a blush on his cheeks before looking down and continuing with their practice. Once it ended, he decided to confess. “I’d.. like to court you, your majesty.”, he smiled.

“Wait.. really? You know I've been waiting for this moment”, the prince blushed, hovering closer to Chan and connected their lips together. And the rest.. was history.

But of course, the story doesn't end there.

【 ♡ (˘▽˘>ԅ( ˘⌣˘) 】

A couple of years pass, and along with the king and queen’s blessing, Hyunjin and Chan seem to be over the moon and in love. One thing that has changed, however, was how the prince treated his lover of a knight and led to more weight being gained by Chan.

From having a small tummy, it grew immensely and blew up, making it harder for the knight to keep on restructuring his suit and all. But most of all, his body was inflated with fat and made it hard to walk without waddling his fat ass (which was a point for Hyunjin to tease his boyfriend about).

Not to mention his toned chest melting into squishy, sizeable pecs that resembled the shape of breasts now due to how much it sagged and how fatty they were.

But little did Chan know, he already knew how to defend himself.. Hyunjin just happened to have a crush on the knight and wanted to play with him, mission accomplished.

Then, as soon as they were comfortable and Chan took in all the relationship weight, Hyunjin proposed to Chan and he agreed, not too long after the chair he sat broke under his weight and jumped each other's bones afterward.

“So fucking hot..”, Hyunjin muttered, caressing Chan’s chubby cheek.

After some time in engagement, it wasn't long after the wedding ceremony happened and both said their “I do’s” in front of many people, making Chan a prince as well due to royal rules.

Once they got to their chamber, Chan pulled him closer and saw how hard Hyunjin tried to wrap his arms around him but with no use, he was too big and his fat ended up getting squished with the prince’s slender hands as they kissed.

“I love you, my prince”, Chan smiled and caressed his hair.

“I love you, my knight in shining armor.”

[bacony-cakes]

East German spy trying to tap the phone line but his numbers station radio won't turn off: Nein! NEIN! Schalte es aus! Den Mund halten! [fumbles the dial on the radio to maximum volume] NEIN! Scheiße! Scheiße verdammt! Schalten Sie es sofort aus! Es ist zu laut! Die Amerikaner werden mich finden! [the dial on his shitty soviet radio breaks off] NEEEIIIIIN! [his giant spy hat falls off in anguish]

The president of the United States of America: Hello is this the Pentagon? So i've been thinking... after i finish irreversably fucking over the economy, what do you think i should do next? Turn ketchup into a vegetable? Oh, i like that idea! Devilish as always. I've also been thinking that we should attach a laser that causes AIDS to a jumbo jet, maybe? I think it'd go well with that nuke-what-makes-you-gay project. ...Yes, i know the English are breaking new ground with their chicken-powered frozen wood plane, but trust me on this, AIDS Force One is the future of warfare. No, no, the laser gives who it's POINTED at AIDS, not the people operating it. Listen here, you son of an expletive, even if my brain is turning into a cauliflower, i am STILL the smartest man in the world, and I COMMAND you to build a machine that preserves me indefinitely like Mister House from Fallout New Vegas. ...Also, are you having an Oktoberfest party without me? I hear yodel music.

Guy who works at the Pentagon: No, mister president, we are not having an Oktoberfest party. From what i'm hearing, it's you who is having the Oktoberfest party. No, i'm not lying- I'm NOT a communist- DON'T put me on the no-fly list. Mister president, if you would- If you would listen for just one second, not only is a plane flying around and giving people horrible diseases cartoonishly evil, we cannot build a giant laser of any kind, because we've just used up our giant laser budget for faking the moon landings. Yes, but Neil Armstrong- Turn down your music, i can't hear you. No, Neil Armstrong- His name is not- He and those other guys got angry and went there for real. I don't know? Lock them in an airstream or something. No, the moon does not give you AIDS, for fuck's sake. There are not gay communist aliens on the moon that- We are- We are NOT building a "Hexagon" right next door to here that contains only people who listen to you. Also- God-emperor of the dominion of the United States of- Shut up, mister president. Fallout New Vegas doesn't release for what, thirty years? Mister pre- No, i am not going to wiretap the- Yeah, we could probably do that instead- And kill his wife too? That's kind of- Could YOU please turn down the music, mister president? For the last time, you're the one- Plan B? Ok, let's hear it. Hit me. Fly two planes into the- Mister president- What is this supposed to achieve- The good guys from Rambo 3? Mister president, what in the hell- And a third one into- A FOURTH one? Jesus Christ, what's wrong with- Can't you just use explosives or something? What do you even have against- Of course it's fucking about oil. It's all you think of. Every day it's "oil, oil, oil"- Pizza Hut is not communist- Mister president- Listen- No, don't you dare-

It will be done, my lord.

[the-eternal-quest-for-balance]

Earlier this month, former Mesa County Clerk Tina Peters was sentenced to just under nine years in prison for her ‘crimes’ in the process of making a forensic copy of the Mesa County Dominion Voting system before a “Trusted Build” was completed by the Secretary of State following a recent election.

During her trial, The Gateway Pundit was mentioned several times for publishing a video that was alleged to have published passwords.  Not only were the passwords partially redacted (and useless, according to expert witness Clay Parikh) but they also should have been changed following the completion of the “Trusted Build,” which succeeded the video’s creation.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Care to know why Colorado is Blue ? This kind of criminal Communist Democrat corruption and fraudulent elections.

[smilesrobotlover]

So for King of the Gerudo you brought up some world building ideas involving the Knights and Maiden titles being the highest honor someone can get, and the Champions being the first examples of non Hylians getting those titles. And as a fellow over thinker in world building, I just can't help but wonder about the different responses people would have to it.

How would the Hylians feel, would they feel it's more deserved and fine, given then Champions had helped save them all during the Calamity, or are there some spiteful ones who see it as an insult to Hylian customs and traditions. Has this spiraled into some people doubting Zelda's choice on the matter, thinking she's putting emotion over reason, choosing to give her friends better titles and disregard their traditions.

Or the Zora and the Rito, both of whom seem to be a little more honor bound. Would some of the more older Zora see it as a passive aggressive way for the Hyrulean Monarch to reiterate that their own Princess is below that of Zelda and the King of Hyrule, that a maiden is still one level below them? Would it lead to people questioning King Dorephan's more passive nature, that perhaps he isn't as outspoken for the Zora's 'honor'? How would the Rito respond to this, who seem to have a little more pride towards their dominion over the sky and their superior archery skills? Is it an insult that Revali was ranked alongside a princess, chieftain, and lord as if a way to cheaply elevate him, almost like a participation trophy?

Or how about some of the Yiga, noting how Impa was dubbed a Maiden but Kogha, in spite of his 'brave' defiance to Ganon, wasn't. Maybe now there are some Yiga who consider this a slight towards them, spawning a very small group of defecting Yiga going against the greater Yiga's reintegration into Hyrulesl's greater collective.

Idk, I'm definitely overthinking all of this and none of this needs answers or any thought put into it, but dang did my brain go a little overboard as I dreamed of this 😅

Oooh yes it’ll be a huge deal. I haven’t thought about the zora situation, but it makes perfect sense! It’s strange how Zelda and Rhoam seem to be of higher authority than Dorephan and mipha, and I think that with the status of a champion and a maiden, a lot of zora will be mad. Idk about the Rito tho, I think they’ll be happy that they’re finally out there, and some Rito may believe that they may be able to reach knighthood or maidenhood someday. But I know some will be upset that it was Revali to be called. But I won’t get into that drama UwU

Some Hylians will be VERY upset about all of this. The people already doubt Zelda’s ability to lead, and to see her accept non Hylians as knights and maidens will seem like breaking tradition, or even blasphemous. Now the soldiers who worked close to her won’t care. They saw how she led battling the calamity, and how she cared for each soldier, so they trust her. But a lot of people like the many gossipers will be upset. They’ll think that Hylians will never have a chance to be called as a knight or a maiden ever again (which isn’t true, those aren’t easy titles to achieve anyways).

Another thing is that it sorta breaks the mold. Knights are meant to parallel the hero, and tho he has a lot of magic, for a lot of incarnations like AOC link, he mostly just uses his fighting skills, not magic. And so to see knights that are proficient at magic will be a big deal, and many people will think that they’re not worthy of a knightly title because of it. Same thing with the maidens. Urbosa, Mipha, and Impa are magically gifted, but they are also very strong fighters. Take away their magic and they’ll still kick your butts. So many people that they’re not worthy of the title of a maiden because of that.

And the yiga…. Oh man… there will be drama with the yiga, and I’m sure a lot of them will be upset, but Impa never defied the Royal family, so she and Kogha’s situation aren’t similar enough to me to cause too much drama. It’s just another instance of the Sheikah being loved by the royal family and not the yiga (but the yiga kinda did that to themselves lol. But I have many thoughts on the yiga for sure)

But yeah overall mostly Hylians and zora will be offended by this. Everyone else may be excited that they’ll have a chance to reach knighthood and maidenhood.

[broodwolf221]

for dadwc, could i request “Hold my hand for a second. It won’t kill you.” for morrigan/leliana? bonus if smutty :p

okay this one was fun uwu im love them @dadrunkwriting 1249 words cws: none very smutty. much smut.

“Morrigan.” She bit back a sigh, straightening up from where she'd been tending to an herb bed to face Leliana. She had been expecting this.

“Leliana,” she replied simply. The other woman was… transformed. The lighthearted young bard Morrigan had traveled alongside, somehow bold and gentle at once, was now wary and analytical. The years had hardened her, an armor that had settled across her skin.

“What are you really doing here?” Wary, indeed. Though she supposed it was quite understandable.

“As you can see, I am tending to the garden.” She knew it was not the answer Leliana sought but was curious about her response to the deflection, eyes narrowing.

“That is not what I mean and you know it.” Her voice had a brittle quality to it now, where once she would have been fondly exasperated.

“No?” She tilted her head and blinked before smiling, done playing the part. “It appears not. Very well, I shall answer your questions, should you ask them plainly.”

“Why did you join the Inquisition?”

“If you will recall, I was handed over to the Inquisition,” Morrigan answered simply. Leliana scoffed, unconvinced.

“Naturally. And clearly you had to follow orders, could not have left of your own free will. In chains you were given to us, and in chains brought to Skyhold, is that it?”

She shrugged. “Where else should I have gone? Back to my mother? Or perhaps you imagined me building my own hut, raising my son in secrecy as she did? I was no longer welcome in the Orlesian court, nor would any other part of Orlais care to harbor an apostate.”

“All mages are apostates now,” Leliana pointed out flatly and Morrigan couldn't help but laugh, earning a faint scowl from the spymaster.

“‘Tis true, but of those ‘apostates,’ how many still wear Circle robes, hold themselves to Circle values? No, I am an apostate in a way that will never be tolerated in polite company. The Inquisition is as much refuge as it is opportunity.”

“‘Opportunity’?”

“Indeed. Think what you will of me, of my reasons, but there is nothing to be gained by letting a would-be god claim dominion over our world.” She took a step nearer and Leliana did not back away. “There was a time when you trusted me to do what was right,” she said softly. 

“And then you left,” Leliana's voice was quiet enough to not carry, but no less venomous for it.

“I did,” she admitted. “But… ‘twas you who left first.” For the first time, Leliana looked away. “Why come to my fire so many nights? Why ask me for tales, share your own, only to leave when I finally invited you to my tent?”

“I… could not join you.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“Ah, yes, more the fool I. Failing to understand that the ways of flesh would shift your Maker's gaze from you.” Morrigan was surprised by the hurt in her own voice—she had thought this particular pain long since past. Leliana's poise seemed to falter for a moment.

“I was naive,” she admitted softly, still not meeting Morrigan's gaze. “And arrogant, believing myself to be His chosen. But He did not choose me. I have learned to accept that.”

“Pity ‘twas not in time,” she said acerbically, Leliana wincing. But a moment later she straightened, meeting Morrigan's eyes pointedly.

“There is time yet,” she said. It was quite the unbelievable statement. “Should you still will it.”

“You are full of surprises, no? Is this your new way to spy on recent acquisitions?” Leliana smiled at the question, the bright, mischievous smile Morrigan recognized from years past.

“Only those who catch my eye,” she teased, voice low. “Have you time now?”

“Ah-”

“Take my hand,” she continued, “it won't kill you.” Her smile remained the same, Morrigan swallowing before taking the offered hand.

Their fingers laced together and Leliana led her through the keep to a simple room. Morrigan glanced around the spartan decor, faintly surprised to be brought to the other woman's chambers directly, although she supposed there was nowhere else fitting.

With the door shut and bolted behind them Leliana turned to face her, pulling her hood back to reveal the vivid shade of her hair, slightly mussed. They were still holding hands, Morrigan letting herself be pushed against the cold wall.

Then Leliana kissed her.

At first it was gentle, searching, curious—but it quickly became heated and demanding, her free hand slipping between them to stroke across Morrigan's bare stomach. She pulled back just enough to speak: “do you want this?” The question made her laugh again.

“Only for years. You are late enough as it is, do not stop now.” She pressed into Leliana's touch, watching as the woman smiled before kissing her again, her hand shifting up until it grazed the simple top Morrigan wore. It took no effort for her to slip under the scant fabric, holding her breast while her thumb dragged back and forth across her nipple. She shivered under the ministrations, gasping into the kiss as Leliana slotted their legs together.

They finally broke the kiss as they started to grind against each other, Morrigan pulling her hand free so she could use both to explore Leliana's curves before settling on her ass, dragging her forward into every thrust. 

She didn't think this would feel so good, although part of it may simply be that it'd been a very long time. But Leliana's shaky moans and sighs were thrilling and Morrigan was already soaking wet, each thrust against the other woman's leg driving her that much closer to the edge. Despite this, it was Leliana who came first, thrusting fast and hard before suddenly stilling, her hips stuttering forward a few times as she gasped. “Don't you dare stop,” she growled, using her grip on Leliana's ass to continue dragging her forward, rutting shamelessly against her leg.

After a few moments of that she sighed, frustrated, and pushed Leliana gently away. “Lay down on the ground.” The woman frowned before doing as she was bid, watching as Morrigan settled atop her. “Now raise your knee like—yes,” she gasped as Leliana's tense thigh pressed against her groin, each thrust dragging her wet smallclothes across her cunt, a slick tension that just brought her that much closer. “Just like that,” she managed as she ground hard against the other woman, sometimes slipping down to press her clit against the clothed spur of Leliana's hip.

After some time Leliana reached back and abruptly pulled Morrigan's one leg higher up, grinding against it again. “Greedy little bard,” she teased, feeling Leliana shiver under her. A moment later she gasped as she was forced onto her side, both of them moving desperately against each other, until finally that sweet edge approached and Morrigan let herself fall, arching against Leliana as she rode through the orgasm, shivering as she slowly came down only to find Leliana still seeking her own finish. “That's right,” she whispered, “show me how much you've wanted this. Spill against me again. I want to hear you cry out my name as you come.”

“Morrigan,” she barely managed, sounding utterly shocked and needy as she jerked hard against Morrigan's thigh.

They laid tangled together while they slowly caught their breaths. Then Leliana rolled away with a giggle, Morrigan arching a brow. “Well. Maybe next time we’ll actually manage to get undressed first.” Now she smiled, too.

“That would be preferable, yes.”

[creaturefeaster]

jumping back to my tim and hannah ask, I meant like how does gary work with the both of them ykyk?? And how all 3 of their relationships are (friendship wise)

Ohhh I see, okay.

Gary's got a pretty complex relationship between Tim and Hannah actually. Hannah's hometown, before she and her brother moved, was rather close to the main passage to the underground Talpian Dominion. When Hannah was younger she'd often meet up with Gary, who was always being rebellious and crossing the threshold into the land above. They sort of met by chance at first, and Hannah's laidback attitude was easy for Gary to get along with, so they just kept hanging out.

Gary being the person that he is, his overall friendship with Hannah is a bit rocky, being argumentative and a little bit of a grump from time to time. Hannah knows Gary doesn't always mean to be that way, and that he tries to be a decent person, so she still stuck by him.

One day though he just stopped visiting Hannah, after the gaps between his visits had already been lengthening. They got to be pretty good friends, so Hannah was upset about this for a while. But that'd've happened a few years before she moved up closer towards Tim, so she's had time to get past it ^^;.

But where Gary actually ended up, when he finally stopped visiting, was actually up in Little Stone where Tim lives. Or, well, he traveled the land for quite a bit, found himself up there eventually, and settled down. Where he originally thought was just a somewhat secluded flat opening in the woods, close enough to society were he to need any supplies, but far enough to where nobody could ever bother him. ...But instead he accidentally settled on Tim's acreage, and didn't realise for the better half of a year.

You could probably count the amount of times he encountered Tim with your fingers and toes alone, throughout the few years he lived there, but still a very unique kind of relationship between them came to be. Gary hated Tim the second they ran into each other, but Tim just thought the guy was interesting, and never told his mother about it. Which is all whatever, but Gary being so isolated from the world, any time they did run into each other he'd always draw the encounter out a little longer than it needed to be.

Tim also just totally trusted Gary even though he was literally trespassing on their lot, and that sort of trust continued after the Fault, because the first person he thinks to go to after he finds his mother kidnapped, is Gary. Not any neighbor, but Gary. It'd be this choice that not only connects Hannah & Gary back together, but also a visit that would retroactively save Gary.

So right at the start of the Fault you basically have this weird triangle of feelings between them, for better or worse. That tends to be their theme throughout their journey.

Gary wants to dislike Tim but the guy is so nice & he's been his only living connection to the world for years, and he's tense around Hannah because of his absence, but reliant on her because he needs her help with his pet Citus, who's body she helped design and build. Hannah is having to relearn Gary, the friend she used to know, concerned for his wellbeing but hurt by his actions-- while her other friend Tim navigates his temper with ease from more recent years of exposure. And Tim is buddy buddy with them both.

But also Gary can be there for Hannah when she needs a more logical brain to talk to. No offense to Tim, he can just be a little silly and airheaded with his takes on life, but that outlook also keeps Gary from getting too uppity about things & keeps everything lighthearted amidst their complex feelings.

Here's how I look at it simply, though:

Hannah - Tim: too silly, nothing to stop them from making dumb decisions.

Hannah - Gary: no fun, all serious, they can sometimes rub eachother the wrong way & make things more difficult than they need to be.

Tim - Gary: a cycle of nothing, friendliness that's met with defensive hostility that's met with more friendliness that's met with frustration. nothing gets done.

Hannah - Tim - Gary: balanced, just the right amount of fun and smarts, with a healthy distribution of emotions. they can accomplish a lot when working together.

🐥

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

On November 14, 1929, a serious prison strike nearly broke out at the Saskatchewan Penitentiary in Prince Albert. Only by the narrowest of chances was the plot discovered by staff and the strike averted. The strike leaders were two convicts, Ashton and Jones, who referred to themselves in furtive notes as “sweethearts” and “lovers” - they dreamed of escaping to be together. Two hatchet-men from Ottawa were sent to clean up, senior officers of the penitentiary were dismissed, and the whole affair hushed up, save for a few stories in the newspapers. This is part of my rambling, fully informal, draft attempts to understand the origins and course and impact of the 1930s ‘convict revolt’ in Canada, and other issues related to criminality and incarceration Canadian history. (More here.)

Saskatchewan Penitentiary was, at the time, the newest federal penitentiary in Canada. Opened in 1911, to replace the territorial jail at Regina, parts of it were still under construction in 1929. UBC penologist C. W. Topping praised Sask. Pen as “the finest in the Dominion,” with supposedly ‘modern’ features in the cell-block and workshops, including an up-to-date brick factory that produced for federal buildings in the Prairies. Discipline and the organization of staff and inmates was functionally the same as everywhere else in Canada, however: forced labour, the silence system, limited privileges and entertainments, a semi-military staff force, and an isolated location far from major population centres.

The majority of inmates were sentenced from Saskatchewan and Alberta, but throughout the 1920s, 1930s and 1940s, Saskatchewan Penitentiary was used as an overflow facility from overcrowded Eastern prisons. In April 1929, dozens of mostly malcontent prisoners were transferred from Kingston Penitentiary. A “row” was expected with these men, but they were not closely watched or segregated from the main population. In November 1929, there were 430 prisoners at Saskatchewan Penitentiary – almost 60 were from Kingston.

The staff at Saskatchewan Penitentiary were warned on the morning of November 14, 1929, by a ‘stool pigeon’ that all work crews (called gangs) would refuse to leave their places of work “until all their demands were met with.” The stool pigeon had no idea who the ringleaders were or the demands, but the Deputy Warden, Robert Wyllie, ordered his officers to keep “a sharp lookout” for suspicious actions. Over 70 prisoners were working outside the walls in two large groups - building a road and laying sewage pipe - and they were supposed to be the epicentre of the strike. Indeed, the whole day of the 14th staff had observed them talking and passing hand gestures. Other warnings came in throughout the day, so Wyllie ordered the penitentiary locked down and the next day interviewed several inmates at random who confessed they had no idea how word about the strike leaked out. For reasons we’ll get into, they were "amazed at being locked in their cells" and surprised by the swift reaction from the Deputy Warden. During the morning of the 15th, one man named Ford was strapped 24 times for attempting to incite a disturbance in his cell block. Noise and shouting echoed throughout the ranges.

Prisoners working on a building foundation at Saskatchewan Penitentiary, c. 1927 In a state of growing panic, Wyllie first phoned Warden W. J. McLeod, on medical leave since September and so sick he could barely answer the phone. Wyllie then telegraphed Ottawa in a vague way, indicating a “serious situation” and asking for someone to come and take charge. Unsure of what was going on, the Superintendent of Penitentiaries, W. St. Pierre Hughes, dispatched five trusted officers from Manitoba Penitentiary, summoned the nearest RCMP detachment, and ordered his personal hatchet-man, Inspector of Penitentiaries E. R. Jackson, to proceed to Prince Albert and take charge. Jackson would be accompanied by R. M. Allan, Structural Engineer, who had worked at Saskatchewan Penitentiary for a decade in the 1910s and "who knew the prison from long experience."

Almost everything in the historical record about this episode comes from Jackson and Allan’s investigation. Their personalities and prerogatives colour completely the available accounts. They were not great record keepers. They were, like many civil servants of the era, bitchy gossips. Both men were known as severe disciplinarians. Jackson, though only appointed as an Inspector in 1924, had become an indispensable figure to Superintendent Hughes. Jackson would be sent to institutions that Hughes viewed as insufficiently following his regulations, or where inmate unrest posed a problem. Jackson was sent to handle a riot at St. Vincent de Paul Penitentiary in December 1925, ordering a brutal round of lashings against accused agitators. He headed the British Columbia Penitentiary for a year and a half when Hughes fired the warden on spurious ground.

It was at B.C. Pen that Jackson met Allan, then the Chief Industrial Officer, and the two would work together closely not just at Prince Albert but also in the construction and opening of Collin’s Bay Penitentiary in Kingston. Jackson also was acting warden at Kingston Penitentiary in summer 1930. One KP lifer testified in 1932 that Jackson was “a mean son of a bitch” who ordered draconian punishments for relatively minor offences. Allan would himself become warden of Kingston Penitentiary in mid-1934, and held that position until 1954.

In short, these were not men sympathetic to prison officers they viewed as incompetent or remotely curious about inmate complaints. Their investigation was about establishing blame and getting things back to ‘normal.’ They concurred with Hughes that "men never rebel where there is a tight grip retained of them by management." There is some truth to this, as sociologist Bert Useem has repeatedly argued in his work on American prison riots: a ruthless but effective and well organized prison staff is likely to stop even the best organized prisoner protest.

In a strictly hierarchical, patrimonial system like an early 20th century penitentiary, where all authority rests with a few men at the top, failures of leadership are often critical. This is a factor often overlooked in popular and academic histories of prisoner resistance and riots (rightly so, perhaps, as we should focus on the actions of the incarcerated, nor their jailers). Of course, strikes and riots in prisons, as elsewhere, never just happen – as Hughes himself noted, this “must have been developing for sometime - [revolts] never occur in a day or two."

This photo shows the chief officers involved in this event. From left to right: Saskatchewan Penitentiary Deputy Warden R. Wyllie and Warden W. J. Macleod, Superintendent of Penitentiaries W. S. Hughes, Accountant G. Dillon, Inspector of Penitentiaries E. R. Jackson.

Jackson quickly fixed blamed on Deputy Warden Wyllie. They were "very much surprised by the lack of initiative" of Wyllie, who seemed to have been cowed by the fifty men working on the outside that had tried to strike. This despite the presence of almost a dozen armed officers nearby! Wyllie had had a nervous breakdown from stress, and had allowed, in Jackson’s eyes, a “lack of efficiency and discipline” to pervade the prison. He was "indecisive" in giving punishments at Warden’s Court, causing “the inmates to gloat over and ridicule the officers…" Inmates charged with fighting, insolence, or swearing at officers were warned or reprimanded, the least severe punishment for such severe infractions of the rules. Several officers felt that “there was no use of reporting the inmates” and so they "closed their eyes to a lot of infractions." Another officer thought that since September 1929 "inmates had became cocky … would laugh in the my face and...tell me to report him when he liked...for it would do no good." This situation was very similar to Kingston Penitentiary before the riot in October 1932, and, indeed, typified the crisis of the 1970s in federal prisons as well.

The November 14-15 disturbance was actually not the first strike episode at Saskatchewan Penitentiary that year. There had been unrest or talk of strikes among the prisoners since early September, with a general atmosphere of defiance and mockery of authorities. Many inmates resisted by going “through the motion of working" but not actually completing tasks. There had been a work refusal in late September, and two other strikes or work refusals in the middle of October. In these cases Wyllie intervened personally, but did not investigate, punish the strikers, or rectify the situation. There are not even reports on file about these events, and the record of reports against inmates for violating rules bears out this feeling that prisoners would “have their own way” and no ‘effective’ action would be taken against their rebellions. That is, effective by the standards of guards, who expected their commands to be obeyed absolutely.

Few demands were discovered – or least Jackson did not think the ones he turned up were worth elaborating on. There seemed to have been general opposition to the Steward's department – the “grub” was satisfactory, but apparently not distributed fairly, according to the inmates. The Steward and Deputy Warden had allowed inmates to place “special instructions” for their meals, and they would shout out their orders like they were at a diner, or exchanged their tickets to swap meals. The queued, single file, food line, with no talking and the same meal for everyone, had disappeared, and restoring this system was Jackson’s first act when he took over. Of course, food in prisoner protests stands in for more than just a meal, while also representing a very basic need that is one of the few things to look forward to during days of monotonous labour.

Much of the unrest centred on certain work crews, whose officers were resented, and communication with family, better work arrangements, socializing, access to newspapers, all are mentioned in passing in the investigation files. The “Kingston boys” were also the loudest supporters or organizers of the strikes, and they apparently resented being exiled to Saskatchewan. At least one inmate, Radke, told other inmates he wanted the strike to force a Royal Commission to investigate the prison. This kind of demand would be repeated again and again in 1932 and 1933 during prison riots across Canada.

Cell block in 1930 at Saskatchewan Penitentiary. The beds in the corridors are due to severe overcrowding.

George Ashton was singled out as one of the organizers of the abortive strike. Serving a term for armed robbery, he was one of the Kingston transfers. On November 15, 1929, he was caught trying to throw a letter away. This letter is addressed to another inmate who he had hoped to escape with. Ashton, "a troublesome, Smart Alec kid,” was sentenced to be shackled for ten days to his cell bars and to spend sixty days in isolation. Typical of Jackson’s more ‘effective’ regime.

Ashton’s note was addressed to his 'Pal', Allen, alias Bertram Allen Jones. Both worked in different work crews labouring outside the walls. Ashton’s letter to Jones identifies him as his sweetheart and lover, and promised that "he'll not get into trouble again because of these screws...I will sincerely try to refrain from letting my emotions run riot....My nature is not one which will allow me to lay down and be trodden upon forever without making some squawk." Ashton indicated he wanted to "make the time elapsing between your release and our reunion as sort as possible." He asked how Jones’ time was going, and ended by expressing his longing and desire to be with Jones:

"OH hawt dawg mamma won't we make up for the time of our separation??? Sweetheart I'll be loving you..." Say what's the answer to that companionate [sic] marriage idea? Thinking of accepting or am I such a damn bothersome person that your going to turn me down?.....there'll be a time when we're happy and gay (in each other arms).”

This was apparently one of many letters the two had exchanged, and contrary to the usual arrangements of wolves and punks in early 20th century prisons, where older men ‘protect’ younger inmates, often to extract sexual favours, this was apparently a consensual and sincere relationship. Not as uncommon as might be expected, of course, but it’s unusual to find such boldly expressed desire and love in this period of the archival record. Of course, Hughes thought this letter confirmed that Ashton was "a low bestial sort." Jones was identified as one of the other ringleaders, and he and Ashton had been seen talking to each other and making hand gestures several times in the months leading up to their strike attempt.

Who these men were and what happened to them after their time in prison I don’t know, yet.

Transcript of Ashton's letter to Jones, the only part of their correspondence that survives today

Inspector Jackson stayed in charge for another two months at Saskatchewan Penitentiary. An attempt to start on insurrection on November 20, 1929, was broken by strapping four of the leaders: “since then the Prison is absolutely quiet." Always full of himself, Jackson included letters of thanks from officers who praised his leadership, including the prison doctor: "We were drifting badly, discipline had practically ceased...now we are back and a Prison once more." He felt satisfied that retiring Wyllie and Warden Macleod had solved the problem, and left Allan in charge starting in mid-December 1929.

While I have no doubt that Deputy Warden Wyllie was responsible for the growth of an inmate strike movement, I don’t believe it is purely a case of his incompetence allowing inmates to organize. Rather, he proved himself to be an open door to prisoners already planning protests, and his inability to act with the severity expected by prisoners and staff alike encouraged further protests. Like a lot of federal civil servants, Wyllie was likely promoted above his abilities, with his loyalty to Hughes, seniority, indispensability to superior officers, and local influence helping to further his career. This was Jackson’s trajectory as well, ironically – once Hughes retired in early 1932, Jackson was on the outs, transferred to clerical duties in Ottawa, and he was dismissed in December 1932 as part of the purge initiated of penitentiary officers by the new Superintendent.

Additionally, it is clear to me that the issues at Saskatchewan Penitentiary extended beyond one officer – and indeed blaming Wyllie absolved a bunch of other officers of corruption and incompetence. Serious issues in the Hospital, Kitchen, School, and Workshops, were identified by Allan when he took over, with trafficking and contraband in cigarette papers, pipes, lighters, smuggled cigarettes, photographs and letters widespread. The Boiler House, where “considerable contraband has been located,” had seven inmate workers, who laboured "without direct supervision...” These men resented the crackdown and refused to work in February 1930 – which revealed to Allan the danger of allowing inmates to have full control of the power plant of the penitentiary.

Allan fired the officer in charge of the boiler house, the hospital overseer, the storekeeper, and reprimanded other officers for failing to confiscate contraband items. Fake keys were found throughout the prison, likely to be used in escapes or smuggling. Inmates had been allowed for years to order magazines direct from the publisher – and did not have them passed through the censor. Another mass strike was attempted in January 1930, apparently to protest Allan cracking down on these deviations from the regulations. As always, it should be recalled that what the officers saw as corruption or smuggling against regulations were all activities that made 'doing time' easier.

Why care about this episode, beyond some of the points I’ve already raised? One aspect of historical study I am most interested in are the precursors to a major event - the struggles, organizing, movements, victories and defeats that (sometimes with hindsight, sometimes without) shape a more influential and decisive event. This is especially difficult when writing the history of prisoner resistance, which often appears a discontinuous history, full of gaps and seemingly sudden flare-ups. The 1930s were a decade of prison riots, strikes, escapes and protests in federal and provincial prisons, but obviously these did not arise from nothing. The 1929 strike attempt at Saskatchewan Penitentiary is a transitional event – similar to earlier strikes and protests going back to the late 19th century, but occurring at the very start of the Great Depression, a premonition of things to come.