#EVEN THEN WHERE ARE THE CONSEQUENCES OF THREE YEARS IN SOLITARY

[aroacettorney]

love how ludger rejecting divinity means so fuckin little because even if he is not a "proper" god hes still the most op and successful character in the entire multiverse

[bwat5-blog]

"Clearly, Caitlyn Kiramman Should’ve Known Better at 23: A Masterclass in Ignoring Trauma and Believing War Criminals"

**Spoilers for all of Arcane**

Recently I made the mistake of delving into the comments of an otherwise excellent post regarding Caitlyn Kiramman and the aftermath of her time as "dictator", specifically in terms of were there enough consequences? did she do enough to make it right? should more have been done to her? that sort of thing. In the festering cesspool of those comments, I saw a variation of the following statement:

"if we were doing things based on what was fair and just, Caitlyn should have been executed on behalf of the two cities for peace"

It was more crude but you get the point. This person alleged that Caitlyn deserved death for what happened during those few months. Before we move forward lets review what we know about all of this. I have quite recently covered a lot of Caitlyn's arc so I'm not doing a deep dive here. Just enough to address this particular bit of idiocy.

How It Starts:

Like I said we aren't doing a deep dive here, so just for a quick reminder as to where twenty-three year old Caitlyn is mentally at this point(regardless of fault or nuance, just the facts):

Has been almost killed by Jinx three times

Almost killed by Sheriff of Piltover

Abducted naked from her childhood home, forced to dress in Enforcer uniform, bound, gagged, and forced to attend Jinx's tea party where Jinx tries to get Vi to murder Caitlyn

Violently knocked out

Shows Jinx mercy at Vi's request

Jinx kills her mother

Trying to become head of house Kiramman

Undercity attacks the memorial

Survives strike team operations

Brutal fight with Sevika

Vi stops her from shooting again

Very emotional split from Vi after hitting her and leaving her alone

So, with all of that under consideration, a Noxian warlord in her fifties who has commanded troops on various continents across Runeterra, calls her up and says trust me, i have your back, we will get justice for your mother. And Caitlyn folds... Le Gasp?!

Guys I know this is a little more snarky than my usual approach, but this really is just not that complicated. This is not even subtle. We literally see the flash back of Ambessa orchestrating the memorial attack to get us to this point. Caitlyn is an open wound mentally and emotionally, she never stood a chance. Lets take a moment to review some important points here by the way:

Ambessa came to Piltover for Hex-Tech. She doesn't hide this from Mel and is quite clear in her goals.

"If there is a chance hextech can be weaponized, we must have it". Mel responds "Piltover isn't your testing ground... I can't believe you'd start a war just to cover your ass" And Ambessa responds "i would set the world ablaze to protect our family". And the conversation ends with Ambessa ordering her daughter to "let the war unfold".

2. She executes her plan to make Caitlyn her scape-goat in front of:

Councilor Salo

Councilor Shoola

Large group of enforcers

Group of twenty plus people who make up as Ambessa states "every house and family with a modicum of influence"

Not a single, solitary person says a word when Ambessa brings a twenty-three year old grieving young woman with, if we're being generous two months of combat experience though probably less, and says She is in charge now! They let Caitlyn be walked right into the jaws of the wolf herself.

The Great And Terrible Rule Of Caitlyn The Creepy! WHAHAHAHA!:

What she gives her okay on:

Occupation of Zaun

Lawful (under martial law not normal law) arrests of those who cause problems

Yep... there it is folks. There is the great list of terrible crimes against humanity committed by the she-devil of Piltover herself. Checkpoints and arrests. Which by the way I am not justifying. People being arrested subjects them to Ambessa's brutality once they are inside. And as we clearly see Rictus uses the right to arrest to brutalize a Jinxer, and to break up the rally. And Caitlyn absolutely shares some portion of the blame for that. But um.. the way people reacted I was really expecting more public hangings and and labor camps.

**Not really a good place to put this but just fyi, despotic mad-women don't usually have to get up early to please a craftsman guild over supply complaints... just saying..."

"But OP! Sexy Zangief was beating people up and breaking up peaceful rallies!"

Well fortunately we talk about that!

"Was it for my encouragement that your man Rictus was instigating violence?"

How does Ambessa respond? Not with anger, or rage. First with guilt "You don't trust me", then with approval when Caitlyn responds the blade cuts both ways "fearless child, you never shy",

Ambessa is a master manipulator. Caitlyn is and was grieving her mother, and her whirlwind extremely intense romantic relationship with Vi. She had a gargantuan hole in her heart and a woman with decades leading and commanding soldiers and learning strategy slid right in. Recall that in bed with Maddie Caitlyn almost is defending Ambessa, talking about learning so much from her and the lives Ambessa saved with her assistance getting control of Zaun, so they could hunt for Jinx. Caitlyn has legitimately come to care for Ambessa at least on some level. I even believe that on some level Ambessa has come to care for Caitlyn.

2. "Arrests require cause"

When Ambessa is suggesting someone in Zaun knows where Jinx is, this is how Caitlyn responds. Not with orders to start dragging people out into the street. Not executing children in the street or burning down buildings. And when Ambessa tries to justify it "What greater cause is there than returning peace to the city?" Caitlyn responds:

3. "Why is peace always the justification for violence".. (Note Ambessa laying comforting hand on Caitlyn's shoulder during conversation)

Ambessa gives her this speech: "we've lost so many.. the anger, the sorrow.. it's tiring. Gods, I know it's tiring.. But you will never rest knowing that she's out there. Or maybe I underestimated you. Maybe you have the strength I do not.. to forgive.. and trust in tomorrow.. the decision is yours commander.."

"I know you are so tired, I know you are exhausted. I know you want this to be over. But you can't feel safe with her out there. I know you can't. Unless of course you can do what even I can't. Forgive your mothers FUCKING MURDERER. But ya know, up to you"-

If you truly cannot see the insidiousness of how Caitlyn is being twisted and manipulated, I envy you the charmed life you have lead. But be weary my friend, "you're off the edge of the map, here there be monsters." (POC 1)

"But OP! Ambessa was experimenting with Hex-Tech and committing brutal interrogations!"

I will admit the show does not explicitly state that Caitlyn did not know about this. Explicitly. However, given our context clues I feel quite confidant suggesting she did not:

See literally everything she said above

Every time we see them doing this she is not present

It seems like they are in some deep and away part of the prison when they are doing this

In private after the failed hex-tech experiment, Ambessa laments that they didn't secure the scientists before seizing control of Piltover. She is openly discussing that they are the actual ruling power. I seriously doubt she would be doing that anywhere Caitlyn may come knocking.

She Could Have Stopped At Any Time! Maddie Even Say So:

You mean that Maddie? The Noxian spy who keeps an eye on Caitlyn from her fucking bed, taking advantage of Caitlyn's grief and guilt over how things ended with Vi? Caitlyn is reminded she has a choice twice. The first time by the spy in her bed, and the second time by Ambessa herself. Her loyalty is being tested. Not her conscious. Ambessa literally put eyes and ears in her bed, and some of yall wanna argue Caitlyn wasn't being controlled. Ambessa assumed the role of Caitlyn's mother, and had her spy take on the role of Vi. And I will say this. Sure. Caitlyn could have gone to Ambessa and called it all off. No more war, no more martial law, the council is in charge again so no more imprisonment and hex-tech experiments. And maybe.. just maybe Ambessa would have row-row-row your boated her homicidal ass home. I rather doubt it. I suspect that conversation would have ended with Caitlyn getting this treatment:

We have been over this already but for a reminder:

Ambessa came here for hex-tech to fight the blackrose. She instigated the memorial attack for her cause.

"I would set the world ablaze to protect our family"

As we will come to see later, her last living child begs her to stop the bloodshed, even offering to go back with her, and all Ambessa can see is weakness.

Other indicators of how she is doing with everything:

"I never expected this to go on so long.. I thought.. I don't know what I thought.."

"Up again?" Maddie tells us Caitlyn hasn't been sleeping

Forbids the use of the cells Vi was kept in

REWIND BACK TO HELLFIRE:

I recently just did an in-depth doc on the strike team, the use of the grey, and what all of this means in story. So I will keep this brief here. but I do want to discuss it as "SHE WAS GASSING KIDS!" is still being vomited up by every double-digit iq booger eater with a keyboard.

Ambessa orchestrated the memorial attack to force Piltover retaliation

The strike team is an alternative to a full-scale invasion by Piltover.

They are hunting dangerous drug lords, destroying shimmer, and hunting Jinx. All three seem fairly reasonable. The issue is not if they are doing something wrong, it's the reason Caitlyn has them doing it. All you have to do is refer to the handy dandy song lyrics they use as Arcane always does to understand this:

"Can I do the right thing for the wrong reason? Is it bad that I'm making friends with my demons, and Living by a couple deadly sins Just to make sure I finish what you began And I ain't afraid to lose a life or ten If it means that I get to win in the end (woo) So I'ma do this on my own, step into the danger zone Pull the pin and watch it blow" (Hellfire Fever 333)

4. Using a crowd dispersal agent that incapacitates bad guys with no documented fatal effects (see multiple characters exposed who are all alive and seemingly well, those images of the people with health issues were from the unfiltered, unaltered smog the Undercity used to live with)to hunt a target who likes to blow shit up seems fair. Also the fact that it knocks people out means they don't have to kill them.

Caitlyn's Remorse And Attempts To Make Things Right:

Literally starts a war with Ambessa to save Vander

Saves a hurt Vi with Jinx's back exposed to her when she is armed

Takes care of injured Vi in her own bed and postpones any judgement of Jinx until Vi wakes

"I Know!"

"We can't erase our mistakes.. none of us"- Equates herself with Jinx

"No amount of good deed can undo our crimes"- Equates herself with Jinx

"Hating you.. I've hated myself.. I just don't have the energy for it any longer.."

Tender moment showing IMMENSE regret during she and Vi's big scene.

The Cost:

One statement I saw opined that there is a difference between remorse and punishment, and that Caitlyn should have been punished. That giving up her seat and losing an eye hardly qualified. Well! Boy oh boy do I have good news for you. Let's take a gander at the physical "not punishment" she acquires willingly leading from the front lines against Ambessa:

Cracked in the head with rifle stock, twice: Skull fractures anyone? how about a lovely concussion?

Stabbed in the stomach: Internal bleeding, bile leaks, intestinal obstruction due to scar tissue adhesions, bowel perforation, the list goes on.

Kicked in the midsection while still stabbed: potential to drive knife deeper lacerating organs and such, just massive pain, potential catastrophic bleeding if a blood vessel was hit, potential rupturing of stomach, kidneys or liver releasing harmful fluids into abdominal cavity, potential for long term chronic pain or permanent organ damage

Leg sweep by Ambessa driving Caitlyn's head into the ground: potential tbi, brain hemorrhage, or further skull fracture, potential vertebral fractures, potential long term cognitive impairment or loss of motor control if spine is damaged

Kicked again: We covered this. Knife is still there.

Ankle pinned/Leg kick/backhand: All sorts of fun things happening to ligaments and tendons. Potential permanent disability. Potential concussion and bruising as well as a whole host of lacerations.

Headbutt with War mask on: Concussion, skull fracture, brain bleed

KICKED OFF OF HER FEET

Pulls knife out of her own body: Potential fatal bleeding, massive pain, possible peritonitis and respiratory distress depending on what all was damaged during the fight with the knife still in her body.

Sacrifices her own eye

Now lets take a quick look at some reasonable assertions for the mental "not punishment" she will likely suffer from after all of this:

Massive potential for PTSD just from the wounds alone

Losing an eye impacts her shooting which is a huge part of who she is and a link to her mother

A woman she shared a bed with levelled a rifle at her neck and pulled the trigger. Caitlyn thought she was going to die.. that doesn't just go away..

look at her face...

She is twenty four people....

4. Guilt over death toll of war

5. Guilt over Vi's possible death from downward spiral

6. Guilt over Vi's possible death from explosion in commune all born from Noxian;s arriving there

7. Guilt over everything done to the Undercity

8. Guilt over perversion of her families ventilation system

9. The fact that from season 1 Act 2 til now, she only ages a year and probably not even a whole one. Refer to my list in the beginning. She has not a single fucking second to breathe or heal from any of that shit

RESTITUTION:

So aside from willingly leading the battle that most of the undercity walked away from until Jinx shows up and almost dying for it, how does Caitlyn start to make things right you may ask? (because it is a start, for those who don't get that. This is the beginning of a story not an end). For the first time in what we understand to be the history of the twin cities, Zaun has a seat at the table. People are REALLLLYYYYY underselling this. I guess because they wanted a whole political treaty signed and to watch Caitlyn get shame-nunned through the street or something. IDK. But what I do know, is that Caitlyn gave away the ancestral seat of house Kiramman, and all the power and authority that came with it, and it now belongs to someone from the undercity. An equal voice. And it's just the beginning. It's not perfect. It's not all wrapped up in a big shiny bow, it feels real. Change isn't instant. It never has been and it never will be, and if you need that to feel fulfilled I understand, but this show was never going to be that for you.

Caitlyn Should Be Executed?:

So back to the original statement. Caitlyn should be executed in the name of peace between the cities. Well, I'll say this. if you see a 24 year old woman who inside of a year had her entire reality imploded, fell prey to the manipulations of a violent war monger close to 30 years her senior if not more, yet found her way back to herself and shed her own blood as a war hero TO SAVE HUMANITY, and your answer is she should be executed. Sure! So long as you admit you have the humanity of a toaster oven you fucking idiot.

To those of you who have continued to read, and share your thoughts, and been open to kind debate and discourse in good faith. You all mean the world to me. As I have said many times, opening myself up to this community has really happed my "real" life in a lot of ways and I love getting on here to appreciate and celebrate this story with all of you. That being said, this particular issue is so god damn irritating to me I am done being nice about it. Have a wonderful day!

[chaoticbardlady99]

She’s My Religion (Part 2: She Needs This Love Just as Much as Me) Astarion x F! Reader

Author note- totally not sure how I feel about this, but here we go! I hope someone enjoys this lmao.

I’m really tired and so this has been edited once and I’ll add the link for part 1 later. If you asked to be on my tag list- I am going to be adding you tomorrow simply because I can barely keep my eyes open right now.

CW: Domestic violence, physical abuse, emotional abuse, mentions of torture, violence, angst.

Picture does not belong to me and is not mine. I cannot for the life of me remember where I got it so I apologize in advance.

“You’ve been doing WHAT!?”

Astarion sits staring at the forest with his head hung with guilt and shame. Shadowheart sounds furious with him and admittedly, Astarion is also raving mad at himself.

Astarion miscalculated terribly- his plan was completely, utterly doomed from the start. Shadowheart is pacing back and forth in front of him- reading him the right act.

Astarion is zoning out as Shadowheart goes on and on saying all the things he’s already said to himself- he begins to drift to the first time he had ever met you about three years ago.

Astarion had been in solitary confinement for what had felt like forever when Cazador let him out. It was probably the only time Cazador had looked somewhat close to nervous with some sick twisted affection behind his eyes. He simply told Astarion he was to accompany you around the grounds and that you needed to be treated with respect. Your step-father did not want you to be present after dinner.

“You are allowed to take her to do what she wants- within reason. Do not let her leave the mansion grounds and make sure she is content,” Cazador said stiffly, “I am trusting you, boy. You know the consequences if you step out of line.”

Later, before you had arrived, Dalyria had made him privy to you and your… temperaments. Astarion relished in knowing you made a fool out of Petras. Someone needed to give the prick a wake up call.

It was also, supposedly, no secret to anyone in your family that you are the one Cazador wishes to marry, but due to your lack of royal blood, it would ruin his alliance with the Von family entirely. So Cazador is stuck with a woman named Daisy Von (who he cannot stand) and Astarion felt like it was the perfect karma for Cazador- the one time he wants something or someone, he absolutely cannot have it.

You were (still are) wildly different from your obnoxious step-sisters and step-brothers.

“Wild.”

“Rebellious.”

“Boorish.”

“Trouble maker.”

It was all this annoying group of people could seem to talk about- how terrible and horrible you were. What a disappointment. What a nuisance.

Dalyria told him beforehand that this was the norm and that it really only gets more embarrassing for them every time. You were kind, headstrong, ambitious, and beautiful according to Dalyria- when she had stepped in for Petras that night at the last minute, you had treated her like a person. You had asked her about herself, engaged in her hobbies by asking questions, and you had made a point of showing her all the medical books in Bridril Von’s library (you even let her take one, Bridril never goes in the library). Astarion had just stared at her in disbelief- she had to be playing a trick on him.

You stood on the farthest end next to the youngest girl and Bridril had scowled so aggressively, Astarion thought his face may cave in on itself. You are far more captivating than any of Bridril’s children could ever wish to be. No wonder Cazador wants you so badly that he’s willing to do anything to make sure you come over with them or that you show up for dinner at your own home- undeterred by the inability to actually make a proposal for your hand.

You looked positively irritated everytime Daisy opened her mouth and he was too. The woman is dense and over-the-top. Dinner had been awkward and you had barely even touched your food, but drank three goblets of wine- every time Bridril leered at you for getting another glass, a sly smirk would cross your lips. Your own silent rebellion.

Your demeanor and attitude resembled that of a bird trapped in a cage- wings clipped and feathers plucked. It made Astarion feel bitter- in what world were you trapped? You get to live in a nice mansion and go to dinner parties in nice clothes- Astarion just woke up in a TOMB after being in there for WEEKS. How dare a pampered princess such as yourself pretend that you are provided with anything less than perfection.

His bitterness (and biases) hadn’t lasted very long- it lasted for about 5 parties. Your relationship started out with a lot of bickering and miscommunication. Both of your words towards each other were passively laced with venom, but you never complained so he kept being assigned to you. It was never an option really either. Cazador insisted you be a part of every dinner despite Bridril’s grumbling.

The 6th meeting had changed everything. You had not arrived for the party your step-father was throwing and Bridril told Cazador that you were sick before hurriedly rushing off to talk to a local Magistrate. Cazador, naturally, wasn’t satisfied with this explanation so he had sent Astarion to find you.

Astarion had found you sleeping- bloody, battered, and bruised in your bedroom. There was a thick black banded bruise on your neck. The walls were empty, there was only a bedroll in the corner, and the book you had been reading the last time he was there was destroyed and in tatters on the floor. You had woken up when he accidentally slammed the door out of rage and you had looked around disoriented, but skittish and alert all the same. Your eyes softened when you realized it was just him.

You told him you had lost a competition because you hadn’t been sleeping well- too many bad dreams. Bridril had been so embarrassed that he had beaten you for the last several hours before- completely forgetting the mass amount of guests that he had invited to his home that evening. You weren’t allowed to leave your room. Astarion had been wrong. You were a trapped bird in a cage.

It was the one and only time Astarion ever willingly went to Cazador and told him what he had witnessed. You never had a scratch on you again at any future gatherings, but you always looked more tired than the time before. Bridril would boast about all the competitions you had won over the last month- Archery, jousting, mock combats, javelin throwing, etc, etc, etc. The list went on and on- you looked closer and closer to vomiting or keeling over from exhaustion with every activity he named. Life returned to your eyes when you and Astarion went off to dick around.

Escorting you around the Crimson Palace or around the Mansion quickly became his favorite part of those stupid dinner parties or any of the events Cazador threw or went to. You are complex and didn’t grow up in nobility. You despised it, but you were stuck because Bridril had enchanted your mother. You told him she breaks sometimes, but you rarely recognize the woman that pretends to be her nowadays.

You admitted to Astarion you thought he was a pompous bastard when you first met, but he is pretty so you let it slide. Astarion told you that he thought you were a spoiled brat, but because YOU were pretty, he also let it slide.

You had smiled at him, “I guess we are both wrong.”

“But not about being pretty.”

“Oh most certainly not.”

One evening, the two of you had had ‘too much’ fun according to Cazador. You had snuck him into the library and you had sat reading for the entire 6 hour affair. You had asked if it was okay if you sat near him and that eventually led to you leaninging against each other. Astarion had felt like he had been physically, painfully ripped from you when it was time to go. You had kissed Astarion on the cheek before he left and he kissed your hand. Cazador had flayed Astarion for that one night.

Astarion had felt some guilt regarding his resentment toward you after the incident. He knew he wasn’t helping his own situation by giving into your whims and your touch.

If Astarion didn’t know any better, he would think Cazador loved you, but he learned quickly that Cazador’s “affection” for you comes from a place of obsession and possessiveness. You looked like a previous lover of his from a lifetime that Astarion knew very little about. You were different from this woman, but it was not unwelcome in Cazador’s eyes- he has always liked a challenge. He could make you submit.

Cazador had wanted to send someone else to be your escort after you had begun to show an interest in Astarion- this was quickly squashed when you looked like you were going to light Cazador and his entire world on fire if he dared to volunteer another person. He had brought Leon, Astarion, and Dalyria and when Cazador volunteered Leon- you simply said, “No, I want Astarion.”

Cazador was infuriated, but he wanted- no needed you to be happy and to like him. Cazador had told Pale Petras that if he could win your favor, he was sure you’d just willingly come to him and ask to be his consort. Daisy could be thrown out entirely and maybe he’ll have negotiating room. The thought had made Astarion’s stomach turn- he wouldn’t be able to bare watching you become a lifeless consort under Cazador.

However, he always pushed those thoughts away when he was around you so he could stay in a good mood. You would flirt back and forth with Astarion, talk about irrelevant bullshit from the week, the gossip around the mansion, and you both mimicked and complained about how pathetic it was to watch Daisy grovel at Cazador’s feet- a lamb to the slaughter. You referred to the slaughter as being marriage, he referred to the slaughter as Cazador.

It had been a wonderful year of Daisy entirely failing at keeping Cazador’s attention, but she was determined and Astarion admittedly hoped that you may remain a consistent part of his life- the tiniest ray of light to look forward to once or twice a month. And if Cazador marries Daisy? Well, Astarion may never have to be that far away from you permanently.

Then, one night at a party, he had been in the Von mansion’s dining room- Cazador had instructed him to find you. He eventually gave up after he couldn’t and figured you would come to him eventually. Astarion was right, but not in the way he had originally hoped.

You had snuck into the second floor dining area and you locked it behind you. Astarion had been relieved to be in your presence again, but the state you were in… His relief was swallowed up when he had seen how bruised and beaten up you looked. Astarion had surprised you by his presence and you surprised him with your plan. You were escaping and instead of stopping you like a very massive part wanted him too- in spite of Cazador’s command to keep you from leaving the property having been shoved down Astarion’s throat, Astarion helped you tie the rope to propel down the side of the building.

Astarion can still remember the earnest look you’d given him- the way you begged him to leave with you. Gods he wanted to. Astarion remembered all the days that followed after where he kicked himself for not being selfish, but for whatever reason, he didn’t want there to be any way for you to be caught. Astarion knew if he went with you, neither one of you would ever get to know what it means to be free. Cazador would be able to find you through Astarion.

Astarion had told you “no”, struggled to get you to understand between tears, but then you promised him that you would be back. You would kill Cazador and he would be free- you just need him to wait for you. You didn’t know Cazador was a Vampire Lord at the time, but he still believed you. You said give you at least four years- you need time to prepare. He agreed.

Astarion never forgot your promise, clinging to it like a divine wish. There were only 2 more years left- then the Mindflayers kidnapped him.

Astarion had never felt more angry or defeated in his whole life. Astarion would have been free, but now he’s going to turn into a Mindflayer of all things.

Except it had been the best stroke of luck he’d ever had. You were there! In front of him after two years! Your softer noble appearance has been replaced with a scar that shows you dodged just in time to not lose an eye, an Oath of Vengeance sigil plastered to your chest, piercings along your ears, and a large beholder tattoo on your neck. Still beautiful, just far more authentic.

Astarion knows his initial plan to seduce you, sleep with you, and manipulate your feelings was a fucked up one-especially because he knew having you in every way would destroy Cazador without thinking of how it would make you feel. Astarion also acknowledged that a part of him had been doing all this for his own selfish pleasure- no one was in the way of keeping you from getting closer and Astarion didn’t want to have to share your affections with others in camp. And besides, he had been there first.

Oh and Astarion took every advantage of having you to himself. Talking to you, making you laugh, kissing you, being entangled with you while you sleep, drinking from you- fucking you until you only smell of him, leaving bite marks to show you are Astarion’s only.

What Astarion hadn’t anticipated was how much he would also want to be yours. He had been pushing down the feeling for a long time and he always brushed off Shadowheart’s puppy love jokes. Astarion was not smitten with you- he merely knows you and that’s why it’s all so easy. You had shown him simple kindness and you had a history together- you were the obvious choice to go to for protection.

Then the fight with Yurgir happened and Astarion watched you die.

The battle had been hard- brutal even for Astarion’s standards- and the constant bombs being dropped wasn’t helping the situation.

You were up top with Karlach, facing Yurgir head on while Shadowheart and himself tried to pick off the other attackers going after you both.

It had felt like hours, but in reality, what happened next lasted mere seconds.

Yurgir had made you and Karlach lose your balance, but Yurgir was focused on you. Astarion watched in despair as you were flung into the wall, crashing to the ground with a pained scream, a sickening crack, then nothing but blood pouring out of your head. Suddenly, a bomb exploded above you, the rocks began to pour down from the ceiling, and buried you.

The screams that had erupted from Karlach and Shadowheart had snapped him into action. Astarion didn’t remember the rest of the battle, just that it had been a bloodthirsty blur and now he, Karlach, and Shadowheart were clearing the rubble. Astarion had been the one to find you and your face was a bit bruised, the back of your head still seeping with blood, but you looked so peaceful and your skin was so so cold.

When you were completely uncovered, it was evident that you were dead- that this was a job for Withers or a scroll of revivify. Your neck was snapped in half, your limbs were broken- some even shattered. Shadowheart was able to heal and reset your neck so that the whole ordeal was slightly less grotesque. After, he had cradled you in his arms until Karlach and Shadowheart were sure there were no enemies between themselves and the exit.

Astarion had refused to let Karlach take you, holding your broken form against him as his silent tears spilled onto your hushed expression.

You had thankfully not been beyond the point of no return, but Astarion had realized that he needed to have a conversation with you. You are more than an upper hand to him, more than someone fun to tumble around with in his tent- you have somehow become his reason for going forward. Astarion had resigned himself to dying if you weren’t able to be revived. The thought had surprised him after wanting to be free for so long, but would his freedom be worth having if he couldn’t spend it with you? Astarion would rather take his chances and hope you end up together in the same afterlife.

That is what has led him and Shadowheart to having this conversation. Astarion wants to ask you to be something real to each other. Shadowheart had initially been confused, stating that you had “always been real?”, then he told her everything.

Whenever you left Astarion behind, he’d pass the time getting drunk with Shadowheart (if she was left behind). The last time, she had to ask Astarion if his entire conversation catalog is just about you because you were brought up every other word- he had felt incredibly embarrassed, so much so that he had gotten up and hid in his tent.

“Astarion- you never shut up about her, you’ve been following her around like a lost dog since day one- Hells you looked halfway to smitten on the DAMN BEACH!” Shadowheart says with a shrill voice, “What do you mean the entire time up until yesterday that it was all a lie!?”

“It wasn't yesterday only, my favorite wine drunk Sharran” Astarion stated matter-of-factly, “I just… didn’t want to acknowledge that I wanted more. After I first met her, I didn’t see her again for two years- it was bearable, but that had come with the promise of her coming back. She almost didn’t yesterday and I realized that, even after this is all said and done, I don't ever want her to go away. In any capacity.”

Shadowheart shook her head at him, “She’s going to be furious. Heartbroken even.”

“I know,” Astarion says thickly, “but I’m hoping she will forgive me or at least let me prove to her that I’m serious about us.”

You weren’t due back for at least another hour so they had begun working on the speech immediately.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Whatever we are,” you are glaring at him, your voice coated in venom, “or whatever you were pretending I was to you- it’s over.”

No. No. No. NO!

Astarion didn’t think it was possible for his heart to feel like it’s been shattered since it barely beats at all.

It’s over?

It can’t be over! It’s barely begun and you only have half of the story. Astarion knows you’ll listen- you’ll see sense. You have to… right?

“Darling, pl-”

“No! I hate you so much!,” you sob into your hands, his whole body hurts looking at you, “I hate you more than I thought I could ever hate anyone- undead, dead, or alive! I trusted you and you used me for your own gain- so unkindly, go fuck yourself!”

Astarion wants to grab you as you turn around and walk away. He wants to get down on his knees and plead to you- pray to you until you don’t leave him- that you take it back. You’ll give him a chance, even if he loses privileges like getting to hold your hand, cuddle with you at night, or even kiss you for a while, that would be far more bearable than losing you altogether.

Astarion falls to his knees, ruptured and humbled.

“Astarion,” Shadowheart says softly, squatting down in front of him, “it will be okay. She’ll forgive you. She just needs a second, okay? You knew and I knew that this was a toss up to begin with.”

Astarion nodded numbly and got to his feet. Shadowheart gives him a squeeze on the shoulder before going into her own tent and Astarion briskly begins to walk back to his. He makes eye contact with you as Wyll enters your tent and the look on your face when you saw him makes this whole nightmare all too real.

Once he secures the tent flaps, Astarion crawls onto his bedroll and lets the sadness consume him while being surrounded by your scent. This may be one of the worst days he’s ever had in the last 200 years- at least from what he can remember.

If Astarion wasn’t so afraid for your safety, he would have packed up all of his things and headed back to Cazador with his tail between his legs, but he can’t because all that does is put you in danger.

Astarion slowly peels himself off the bed roll and hugs his knees to his chest. He lets himself stare off into nowhere as he lets himself be consumed with the agony and vexation- it’s not like there is any wildlife to go take out his pain on.

Astarion gets up and rolls his shoulders. As much as he wants you, you are done with him and he needs to respect that. Astarion decides he’ll leave you alone, but remain in the background. He’ll stay until you tell him to leave and never return. It will hurt so terribly to not be near you like he was, but he’ll just have to be grateful for the time he did have- the time he took for granted.

Astarion begins to get ready for the long night ahead of him when an open letter on one of his books catches his attention.

It’s addressed to you, torn open and stained with tears. Astarion opens the envelope. He reads the note so many times he feels like he may go on a homicidal rampage. Not only was your mother dead, likely at the hands of your step-father, you are officially considered engaged to be married to Cazador fucking Szarr.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion had waited until morning to try to talk to you again-giving up on leaving you alone. He knows that you have a very long cool down period when your feelings are hurt (he has made this mistake less severely in the recent past). If there is any hope of you hearing Astarion out- it would be today.

Except you had already left with Karlach, Gale, and Lae’zel by the time he has finally built up the courage to leave his tent.

Astarion spent the day with Shadowheart and actually attempted to help with camp chores. Astarion bounced ideas off of her, but he didn’t tell her about the note. It felt like that was information for you to share if you wanted and you probably hadn’t intended on him learning about this information in the first place.

Shadowheart looks at him after awhile, a troubled look on her face. Shadowheart turns towards Wyll.

“Hey Wyll, they should have been back by now right?”

Wyll walks over to Shadowheart and Astarion with the same troubled expression.

“Yes, it was just a quick supply run to Last Light Inn before we take a day to recooperate,” Wyll says slowly, “I’m wondering what has held them up this long…”

Their pondering and questions were quickly interrupted by the sound of foot steps racing towards them.

“SHADOWHEART! HALSIN!”

You and Karlach were screaming their names in unison. Karlach is supporting Lae’zel and Gale is slack against you as you fight to keep him upright. The usually wonderful smell of your blood is now making him ill as you come closer to camp.

Across your sides were long, bloody scratch marks- in fact, there are claw marks all along your arms and your armor. One side of your face has a superficial scratch. Karlach appears to be in better shape, but just as scratched up nonetheless.

“We- we were ambushed by an Absolute Cultist,” Karlach exclaims breathily, “a Fist named Marcus. He was trying to bring Isobel back to Ketheric.”

Astarion watches as you help lay Gale down near Halsin and Shadowheart so they can begin to get to work, Lae’zel being laid down next to him. Shadowheart catches your wrist with her hand and gives you a Superior Healing Potion- the soft smile you offer her makes Astarion think he may have a chance.

Astarion walks back towards his tent and toys with the letter on the counter. Does he bring it up? Does he just bring it back to you and not acknowledge it? What would you even want him to do?

The noise outside had diminished as Lae’zel and Gale were recovered enough to be moved and healed in their individual tents- Shadowheart healing Gale and Halsin healing Lae’zel. It must be an early night for everyone. Astarion takes a deep breath and opens his tent flap, ready to confront you- but it looks like he didn’t have to travel very far to confront you.

There you are, cleaned up now, standing in front of Astarion’s tent looking nervous and heartbroken. In his shock, Astarion offers you his hand and gently pulls you inside, closing the flaps behind you.

“What did I do?” you blurt out, tears streaming down your face as fast as words are coming out of your mouth, “I can be useful again. I can do whatever you need me to- be whoever you need me to be.”

You take a jagged, heart wrenching inhale and he can hear you fighting the lump in your throat.

“I can’t do this alone- I just can’t,” you sob and look down at your feet, “I know what I said. I know I’m a fool for crawling back here begging you to keep pretending, but please. I can be what you need me to be, I promise. I’ll be- perfect for you. Please.”

Astarion bridges the gap between the two of you and puts your face between his hands, guiding your melancholy eyes to his.

“Darling, you have always been perfect. I have never needed you to be anything more or less than what you are. You are a Godsend.”

“Then why?” you whisper, “Why would you practice breaking up with me? What did I do?”

Astarion sits there and looks at you with bewilderment- practicing breaking up with you? He was practicing trying to ask to be with you!

He chuckles despite the tears that are slowly spilling from his eyes, “You insult me, my Love. I have no issues with breaking up with people- I think. Never really had the chance and I had no desire to end our relationship yesterday.”

You look at him with regret and guilt in your eyes. You go to move away from him- evidently worried about him rejecting you and hurting you. He moves with you, not letting you go anywhere and he kisses your forehead, one of his hands moving to the small of your back while the other remains on your cheek.

“What I was trying to tell you, my Dear,” Astarion softly whispers, “is that, regardless of my original intentions, my plan failed terribly.”

“How so?” you whisper in return.

“It was all so simple- seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. It was easy- instinctive. 200 years of instinct had kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it and all I had to do was not fall for you.”

Astarion traces your bottom lip with his thumb, pulling you into him by pressing into the small of your back. You gasp gently at the contact.

“And that is where my nice simple plan fell apart,” he says woefully, “you’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

Your eyes search his face for any signs of ingenuity or deception.

“I do too, more than anything,” you say breathlessly, “but what about everything I said yesterday? Everything I said was terrible.”

“It was,” he ponders, then he says teasingly “if my feelings weren’t so hurt and if I wasn’t the one on the receiving end- I dare say I would have been proud of you.”

“Well I learned my dramatics from the best after all.”

“I didn’t know Wyll was such a great teacher- I’ll have to ask him for tips some time,” he quips.

Your laugh lifts the painful fog that has been smothering him in his tent for the last day. Astarion pulls you down with him into his bedroll, you curl up around him and he spreads the blanket out. You lay your head on his chest and he pulls you into him tightly- inhaling your scent and savoring the thrumming of your pulse underneath his finger nails.

“Those nights when we were together,” you ask, peering up at him with worry, “did they not mean anything to you then?”

Astarion freezes before he releases a deep sigh. This may be the part where you change your mind and he is mentally preparing for it- taking account of the way you feel against him just in case this is truly the last time.

“I don’t know what real looks like,” he confesses, “being close to anyone-any kind of intimacy- was something I performed to lure people back for him.”

He feels you flinch at the mention of Cazador.

“Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. I don’t know how to be with someone- no matter how much I’d like to.”

“I care about you deeply- we can be together without having sex for however long you need,” you pause, “you are so much more to me than sex and I adore you for so much more than just your body.”

“Really?” the shock in his voice is blatant.

“Really,” you say with a smile before laying your head back on his chest.

“I don’t know what we’re doing,” he says giddily, running his hands through your hair, “ but I know that this, this is nice.”

You hum in agreement and he draws circles on your back. Astarion basks in your presence and sits in the relief that you are back in his arms again.

“Astarion,” you break the silence, “I have to tell you something- I got a letter. It’s not… good.”

“I know, Darling,” Astarion says tightly, “you left it in here. Unfortunately I let my noisiness get the best of me.”

You both sit in the heavy silence that fills the air.

“I’m to be married off to him, Astarion,” you choke out.

“I won’t let him have you, “Astarion snarls, his voice coming out much harsher than he intended.

“But what if there isn’t a choice? What if it would protect yo-”

“No.”

He is looming over you, you are now flat on your back staring up at him. Astarion feels like a coil ready to spring. If it’s ever between him and you regarding who goes to Cazador- he’d serve a thousand life sentences before he’d ever let that vile man so much as look in your direction.

“Astarion-”

“No,” he says between clenched teeth, “you will not sacrifice yourself for me. I don’t care if you marrying Cazador and being his consort would make me mortal again. You will not be his- he cannot have you.”

You look up at him with bleary, adoring eyes, “okay.”

Astarion kisses your trembling lips and he tastes the tears staining them. Astarion pulls away and strokes your cheek softly. He lays back down and you turn towards him, tangling your hands into his hair, gently detangling it. Astarion rests his hands on your hips, using his fingers to delicately adjust you until your legs are entangled in his.

“My mom is dead, Star,” you say remorsefully “she’s gone. She was all alone and probably so afraid. I never even said goodbye before I left her to her fate- I was a coward.”

The hurt in your voice is raw and bleeding- it breaks Astarion’s heart all over again.

“I am so incredibly sorry for your mother and your loss, Little Love, “Astarion says softly, “but you are not a coward. You did what you needed to do. You were always planning on coming back.”

“I was,” you whisper, “I was going to get her first and then you.”

“Foolishly enough,” Astarion chuckles, “I never lost faith in you. I felt like if anyone could do it, it would be you- the glimpse of sunlight amongst the secondhand embarrassment that is Daisy Von.”

You giggle and press your face into his chest- the vibrations fills his chest with warmth. Astarion is so incredibly happy you are back where you belong- here with him.

“I am hardly comparable to the sun,” you say, “I think I’m a candle. Ordinary, accessible, there when you need it.”

Astarion turns over your words in his head- he agrees with the statement but disagrees with the reasoning entirely.

“You are a candle,” he says slowly, “but a candle has always been a luxury to me. It allowed me to sew or read- to have a tiny piece of my humanity back. It was nice to have a break from the dark, huddled around the small flame.”

He pauses, “ I suppose that is why I am so drawn to you. You make me feel like a person again and you are a luxury I never thought I’d be lucky enough to afford outside of those monthly visits.”

“Well, then I promise I will remain here,” you say with adoration, “your humble candle- for as long as you need me.”

“Be careful what you promise, Little Love,” Astarion teases, “if you aren’t careful, you may be stuck with me for eternity.”

“Gods, I hope so!” you say with flourish, “everyone else is terribly boring and does not appreciate my predisposition for shenanigans.”

“How ungrateful!”

“Entirely ungrateful!” you agree.

Astarion pulls you in for another kiss, a grin forming as you gasp at the suddenness of his actions. Astarion kisses the tip of your nose, both of your cheeks, and your forehead. You settle into him and he strokes your hair- your breathing evens out and you are slack against him.

Astarion takes in your sleeping figure and feels another surge of protectiveness enveloping his body. He doesn’t know how accessible his thoughts are to Cazador, but he hopes Cazador hears this one.

You cannot have her- she is mine.

_________________________________________________

Author note- should I do a part three and four with the Cazador confrontation? I’m torn- let me know your thoughts pleaseeeeee

[modern-inheritance]

MIC Lore: The Lake by the Meadow

In the wide swaths of forest surrounding Ellesméra, there is a hidden Meadow. Few know of it. In later years, during a time of consequence, an elf was buried under a solitary willow tree at the Meadow’s center. Before then, it was a wide open field of wild flowers and sweet grasses, a creek and pond at one of the sprawling corners, where a mischievous pair of young elflings caught many frogs and toads and salamanders, watched minnows swim and spent nights marveling at the stars in their ceaseless dance above. Where dragons once flew, they traced out their missing shapes in the clouds, proclaimed their storied names and the adventures the great creatures once took to on wings of brilliant color.

Not far from this Meadow, is a Lake. This Lake is also hidden, though many more know of it than the Meadow. It is told of in many a story, little ones warned of it. It is not to be feared, but to be cautious of. 

You see, this Lake is very deep. There are places where darkness swallows up any light. There are shallows that are enticing to splash in on hot days. Cliffs perfectly carved out by the wind and rain to climb and leap from in great displays of acrobatics and bravery. Even caves, some half submerged, shallow enough to wade into with the cool teal water swirling around shins and waists as light dances from reflected ripples along the ceiling. Others are deep, twisting, inescapable. 

One of the little ones, the boy, he swore that his father told him of a ship at the bottom of the lake. They spent many afternoons searching for it, one of those ships that carried their people across the seas millenia ago, sunken here to forever connect them to their mysterious homeland. 

She watches them. Luminescent eyes wide. Confused as to why they came here after she was alone so long.

~~~~

Yo, this was literally just going to be like three bullet points but this came out instead. I donno if I'll ever finish the narrative part but, anyway, fun bit of Du Weldenvarden lore for MIC!

There is a benevolent sea/water nymph/siren/scale-patch-webbed-extremeties sorta creature/person living in this lake.

Arya, Fäolin, and later Glenwing all swim here. No one else does. Mostly because they think the creature prefers to be alone.

TBH, she DOES prefer the solitude. She was likely an elf that altered her appearance a looonnnng time ago, continued to do so more and more, and eventually sorta lost herself in it. She's sentient and conscious and all that, but she's lost much of the social aspects.

She typically doesn't speak (and only then through mental contact), but she communicates/attempts communication through sounds similar to whale singing in shorter bursts. If you've ever seen Pokemon The Movie 2000 (The Power of One) and you hear Lugia's underwater singing, that's sorta the vibe. She makes other sounds like inquisitive burble-chirps, etc. She understands what she's saying, and it's completely understandable if you know the language, but it's only her language. She's lost the ability to vocalize any other way.

The other elves warn kids away from there because there was a time when the creature was easily frustrated by others not understanding her not long after she lost her vocalization skills, and could get violent. She didn't exactly realize she wasn't speaking.

She's calmed down over the centuries, though many still avoid her and her lake just for safety and the belief that she's most at peace alone. And because a few elves have disappeared around there and there's a question of if she drowned them.

Arya and the boys swim there regularly. It's their spot. And the creature does not mind them. Hell, she swims with them at times. If they dive deep she'll follow them down to make sure they surface alright. Since she usually comes out between dusk and dawn, if she's grumpy she'll leave a rotted piece of wood somewhere on shore and it tells them to go away.

Arya spends a decent amount of time at the Lake when she returns. Iz finds her out there one of the first times, with Arya diving down deep to touch one of the shallower bottom spots (probably 30 meters still) and Iz warns her that it's dusk soon. Arya waves it off with a 'She's never had a problem with me.' "You've been gone a long time." 'Not any longer than before.' "...I told her you were dead." '...Good point. I'll tell her from the shoreline.'

She's honestly a very nice lady when you get to know her, just very much an Other in the sense that there is absolutely nothing alike to her anywhere in Alagaesia and she's okay with that.

Chillin' in a lake. Mer person esque. She's got a good life. and munches on many fishes.

[being-of-rain]

My thoughts on Wild Blue Yonder! A little late because the time between the 60th anniversary episodes almost exactly lined up with a visit from my girlfriend. We had a great time, and watched this episode together, but I didn't want to take enough time away from her to write this!

When I saw some EU fans joking about how the episode was going to be an adaptation of Scherzo, I wasn't prepared for how many similarities it had. And it was soooo good. I love some really fucking great Doctor Who. I loved the horror aspect, I loved the duologue aspect, I always love a mystery opening act where the Tardis team has to search for clues and theorise about where they've landed. Oh and a shape-shifter who takes on someone's whole identity and thoughts is a concept that always tickles my fancy.

One of the few nitpicks I have is that I'm not quite sure how the countdown/shifting corridors and the robot connect: if they're part of the same self-destruct system, why is the robot seemingly much older than the ship? If they're not part of the same system, why is there a countdown to the moment the robot presses the button? Why not just have the ship destroy itself, and why would the ship need to 'reconfigure itself to become a bomb' if it had a self-destruct? But (much like Heaven Sent, which the solitary shifting setting is reminiscent of,) the small logic hiccups don't really take anything away from how good the episode is.

A slightly larger nitpick is that the ending isn't the strongest, with the TARDIS coming back right when and where the Doctor was thinking that it should, and then the Doctor realising he picked the wrong Donna because of a miniscule detail (that the audience couldn't pick up on, so it feels a bit of a cheat and a cheap emotional shot). So some of RTD's most common flaws there, but again the negatives really don't stack up to much compared to the quality of the rest of it. Also, I didn't notice the Tardis screen at the end that showed a scan of Donna's arm until my rewatch, and, in classic me fashion, it put me in mind of a random Dr Who EU story. In this case, Project: Nirvana where the Doctor reveals that the Tardis automatically scanned someone coming onboard and flagged an eldritch-monster-shaped issue with her. It does make me wonder if the Doctor thought to scan Donna himself, or if the Tardis did it (and he took the credit, perhaps trying not to think about how he might never have noticed).

But that's enough with nitpicks, what are some other fantastic bits? The throwaway phrase "goosebumps like Braille" is rad as hell, and would've made a great episode title I think. I've had ideas before about the Doctor's compulsion to think and solve problems in front of him being a direct threat, so it was cool to see that idea here. The Doctor worrying about 'invoking a superstition at the edge of the universe' at the end was a vague but incredibly compelling hook for future plots, and infinitely more interesting than the Meep's final line from the previous episode. I love all the tiny subtle ways the not-things were off and unsettling, as well as all the ways that were so over-the-top that I was laughing through my shocked horror.

The Timeless Child and Flux references were fantastic peeling back of the Doctor's emotional walls, and it was nice tying in with what is technically the show's previous season, even though it came out 2 years ago now. Also... it's a little hard to mention those references without dunking on Chibnall in comparison, who didn't tap into the Doctor's emotional state anywhere near as intensely in several years as this episode did in one scene (You could tie this into the Doctor regenerates into what they need/opposite theories, with Thirteen being a relatively repressed Doctor and Ten Point Three being a relatively expressive Doctor). It was particularly nice to have the show actually establish what the consequences of the Flux actually were, because god knows Thirteen's episodes weren't interested in doing that. On my rewatch of series 13 a few months ago, I was amazed at how basically every element of the Flux is confused and contradictory, and at the end my brother and I were convinced that the Ood in the Division ship (or God Ood as we started calling him) must have reversed the very almost total destruction of the universe, because the show simply refused to acknowledge any of that destruction itself. I guess they split the difference and said half the universe. But unpicking the bizarre illogic of the Flux is a whole other post.

Keeping in mind that the next episode hasn't come out yet, Wild Blue Yonder feels wildly out of place in the middle of an anniversary trilogy. A trilogy where the bookends are RTD modern-day blockbusters filled with fan-favourite character returns and niche villains from the show's long history, and the middle is a limited-cast sci-fi psychological/eldritch horror. But that absurdity detracts from the episode in absolutely no way whatsoever.

And speaking of absurdity; the mounting hype and talk of big things happening in the next episode, on top of bringing back a long-forgotten old villain and a long-awaited new Doctor, is just making it more and more ridiculous that the episode is called The Giggle. I can't wait for it though, I'm really enjoying these specials.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Horrortale Sans & Papyrus character sheets (Updated version)

OAK (Horrortale Sans)

Backstory : Oak only live through one timeline but damn, what a timeline. After befriending everyone and making him believe that maybe they would get to see the sun again, Frisk killed the King, left and never returned. Or so is the story Undyne is telling to everyone. Oak knows something happened that day, not sure why, and is sure the kid will come back someday. Unfortunately, not everyone is that faithful. After a short civil war between Toriel and Undyne, Undyne took control of the Underground, leaving him in a very fragile position, as Oak was Toriel's first conselour. If Snowdin's monsters are still very loyal to the Old Queen, the rest of the Underground is a whole another story, and except for some friends here and there, Oak was not feeling safe anymore. It all turned even worst when the CORE stopped working, leaving monsters to die of starvation, or fall into this sick habit of eating humans falling down. First against any kind of human murder, Oak had to make a difficult choice the day Willow almost died, killing his first human and tricking him to eat it. Willow never really forgave this, but as time passed, resigned to do so to survive. Oak never ate any human. He refused it, feeding only on berries, and when times were desperate, on grass or wood. That let him very weak for something he didn't planned at all. His relationship with Undyne was not good at the time, but it was still more or less ok. Well, at least until, asking him for a meeting, she suddenly and out of nowhere attacked him, making a huge hole in his head to get his magic eye in a vain attempt to restart the CORE. It worked two hours before crashing again. Willow, not seeing his brother coming back, found him left for dead on the floor, and ran to Toriel's place to save him. Oak stayed between life and death for several months before waking up, traumatised, unable to talk, move or do anything by himself. He had to learn again, little by little, but the three of them quickly realized something was terribly wrong with his short memory. Oak grew worst and worst once back in Snowdin, having crisis that makes him aggressive and very dangerous, almost animal-like, but pretty normal a few seconds later, without any memory of what happened. After seven more long years, the fall of Aliza finally gave the Snowdin monsters the bravery to rebel against the Queen. Undyne died in the battle, but monster were finally free. Monsters are now learning to have a normal food diet again, but the consequences of what happened Underground will never really leave. Oak and Willow, closer than ever, now live in a small farm, next to Toriel's house, and both try to go with their life, doing their best to forget.

Personality : Adaptable, alert, calm, caring, fair, honest, incorruptible, independant (but not too much), observant, patient, protective, prudent, absentminded, private, reserved, solitary, apathetic, asocial, cautious, disorganized, escape artist, insecured, lazy, reactive, uncooperative.

Job : Farmer, sort of. He can't work by himself, he needs to be under his brother's or Toriel's supervision.

Hobbies : Taking care of the farm animals, writing his thoughts in his notebooks, cooking.

Loves : Food, animals, cuddling with S/O, his brother or Toriel, the forest, pretty rocks, going where Willow tells him he can't go, do what Willow tells him not to do, napping in places he can't fit in, annoying Grillby for attention when he's bored.

Hates : Undyne, anything close to his head hole, people who stares at him for too long, loud noises, crowded places, people not patient when he's struggling to talk, people who try to baby him, the hospital.

The S/O of his dream : Someone who is not scared of him and doesn't judge him for his past actions. Loving to cuddle for hours is a huge bonus.

Dealbreaker : Babying him, trying to separate him from his brother, being mean to Willow, screaming because he's forgetting things.

Contacts :

Family : Willow - HT Toriel - HT Grillby

Adopted family : Nugget - Pumpkin - Copper - Chief - Delta - Dune (adopted dog???)

Best friends : Honey - Sam - Ben

Close friends : Papyrus - Grillby - Red - Rumba - Killer

Friends : Toriel - Asgore - Blue - Coffee - Rambo - Salsa - Fang

OK/Neutral : Gerson - Edge - Nox - Moon - Sun - Tango - Demon - Creeper - Error -

Would better avoid : Sans - Alphys - Mettaton - Burgerpants - Gaster - Muffet - Rus - Ink -

Absolutely hates : Undyne - Frisk - Chara - Flowey - Wine - Torpedo

_______________________________________

WILLOW (Horrortale Papyrus)

Backstory : Willow had a really rough time Underground after Frisk left, which he didn't really understand in the first place (well, at first, after everything that happened, he's glad the poor kid didn't get stuck in the middle of everything). He was right in the middle of the fight between Toriel and Undyne, trying to calm down everyone and finding alternative ways to avoid a civil war, before Undyne took the trone. Willow found himself torn between his loyalty to Toriel and his friendship to Undyne, who was now threatening his brother, considering him a traitor. When the CORE broke, Willow overdid himself to help everyone, forgetting to take care of himself in the battle, as he rejected with all he had monsterkind starting to use humans for food. Oak abused his weakness to force his hand, then Willow had to accept it blindly because there was not really any solution left for him to survive. But every human killed was a hit in his soul, and he can still remember any face he killed. When he found Oak half dead in Waterfall, he thought this is it, that he would be on his own, but Oak struggled and survived, somehow. In the meantime, Willow asked Undyne for help to find who did that to his brother, and she did, sending him on wrong tracks again and again, to the point Willow found it suspicious and begged her to tell the truth. After he learned Undyne almost killed his brother, their friendship is over. Willow never felt so betrayed in his life. Despite everything, and after monsters killed her with the help of Aliza, he never felt satisfied with the ending, feeling a bit of regret, like he could have done differently. The monsters refused to give Undyne a grave after all she did, and at first, Willow agreed, but it just felt wrong. He went back Underground not a week later to collect her dust, and Alphys', who was gone a long time ago already, and buried the both of them in the forest. When he left, to start his new life on the Surface, he told Undyne he's forgiving her. Willow now has a farm with his brother and tries to live normally, despite him struggling with how he looks and what he did Underground. But he's getting better.

Personality : Benevolent, caring, cheerful, creative, cultured, dramatic, enthusiastic, forgiving, gentle giant, kind, logical, observant, peaceful, perceptive, persuasive, rational, self-critical, sensitive, sentimental, tolerant, moralistic, sarcastic, anxious, melancholic, paranoid, regretful, lack of confidence.

Job : Farm owner.

Hobbies : Take care of the farm animals, cooking, crafting things, decorating the house, volonteering to distract old people in retirement homes.

Loves : His brother, flowers, pretty objects, cleaning, reading, visiting new places, bitching on the neighbours, children, his routine.

Hates : The Underground, his past, his body, how his back hurts for nothing, not being able to run in the morning anymore, when he burned food, people staring at him, rude people, people not letting their seats in the public transport, when Oak refuses to listen to him for once in his fricking damn life.

The S/O of his dream : Someone who won't judge him and comfort him about how he looks. Someone who likes to share his interests and the other way around.

Dealbreaker : Being mean to his brother, using his past against him, saying he's lying when he says he's too in pain to do anything, trying to hide him from your family because you're scared how they will react around him.

Contacts :

Family : Oak - HT Toriel - HT Grillby

Adopted family : Nugget - Pumpkin - Copper - Chief - Sam - Ben - Delta - Dune (???)

Best friend : Toriel (second mom)

Close friends : Papyrus - Mettaton - Grillby - Honey - Killer

Friends : Sans - Asgore - Gerson - Blue - Red - Rus - Coffee - Rambo - Salsa - Rumba

Would love to be friends again but is too scared to ask : Undyne - Alphys - Frisk - Chara - Asriel/Flowey

OK/Neutral : Burgerpants - Moon - Sun - Tango - Demon - Creeper - Fang - Error

Would better avoid : Gaster - Muffet - Edge - Nox - Ink

Absolutely hates : Wine - Torpedo

[orthodoxydaily]

Saints&Reading: Wednesday, March 27, 2024

march 14_march27

VENERABLE BENEDICT OF NURSIA, ABBOT (543)

Saint Benedict was born in Norcia around 480 AD. That historical time frame was quite difficult, as it was a mere four years before the Western Roman Empire formally fell by the deposition of the last Emperor, Romulus Augustulus. The only authentic life of Saint Benedict is contained in the second book of Pope Saint Gregory’s Dialogues, probably written between 593 and 594 AD. 

After attending primary schools in Norcia, Benedict went to Rome to broaden his knowledge of literature and law. However, since he was probably disgusted by the dissolute lifestyle of his peers and by Rome’s difficult political situation, he retired to Affile with a group of priests, taking his old nurse with him as a servant. 

At Affile, Saint Benedict worked his first miracle, restoring to perfect condition an earthenware wheat sifter that his man-servant had accidentally broken. This miracle's notoriety drove Benedict to withdraw further from social life. He took shelter in a cave in the ruins of Nero’s village, near Subiaco, where he began to live as a hermit. Immersed in loneliness, his only contact with the outside world was with a monk called Romanus, whose monastery was nearby. He gave Saint Benedict a monk’s habit and provided for his spiritual and material needs. Three solitary years followed. Some shepherds befriended Benedict. They began to follow his teachings and the pastoral and apostolic principles of the Benedictine Order took root. 

After resisting a strong temptation against chastity, Benedict prepared to live through a new experience, following the example of the ancient Fathers of Christian Monasticism. At first, the community of Vicovaro wanted him as its Abbot, but the failed attempt of a monk to poison him forced Benedict to return to his solitude. Afterwards, he founded twelve monasteries and assigned twelve monks to each of them. In addition, he founded a thirteenth monastery for novices and those needing education. Benedict’s fame spread so rapidly, even in Rome, that two illustrious men, Equizius and the nobleman Tertullus, entrusted him with their two sons, Maurus and Placidus. They were to become the first two gems of the Benedictine family. 

During his life, Saint Benedict performed many miracles. He found water on a desolate mountaintop to quench the thirst of his monks. He retrieved a bill hook’s iron from the bottom of a lake and rejoined its handle. He prevented a monk from leading a dissolute life through intervention. In addition, he made Maurus walk on water to save the young Placidus from drowning. 

Unfortunately, a priest called Florentius was envious of Benedict’s popularity and his envy forced the Saint to depart in spite of insistence from his disciples. After leaving Subiaco, Benedict went towards Cassino. In the period between 525 and 529 AD he founded the Abbey of Montecassino. It would become the most famous abbey in continental Europe. Under Benedict’s direction, the old acropolis-sanctuary towering above the declined Roman municipium of Casinum was turned into a monastery that was much bigger than those built at Subiaco. On the remains of the altar of Apollo he built a chapel dedicated to Saint John the Baptist, while the temple of Apollo itself was turned into an oratory for the monks which was dedicated to Saint Martin of Tours. 

  At Montecassino, Saint Benedict displayed prodigious activity. He supervised the monastery's building, established a monastic order, and performed many miracles. He brought back from death a youngster, miraculously supplied the monastery with flour and oil in its time of need, and displayed the gift of prophecy. In the autumn of 542 AD, while the Goth King Totila was passing through Cassino en route to Naples to attack it, he decided to test Saint Benedict because he had already heard of his gifts and charisms. Consequently, Totila sent his squire dressed as a king to greet the monk, but Saint Benedict soon unmasked him. When he finally met Totila, he warned him with a dire prediction: “You have hurt many, and you continue to do it; now stop behaving badly! You will enter Rome, you will cross the vast sea, you will reign for nine years; however in the tenth year, you will die.” And that is exactly what happened. Saint Benedict showed the same virtue as he cried bitterly when confronted with the vision of the first destruction of his monastery. Notwithstanding, he received from God the grace to save all the monks. 

Saint Benedict devoted himself to evangelizing the local population who practiced pagan worship. Shortly before he died, Saint Benedict saw the soul of his sister Saint Scholastica rising to heaven in the form of a dove. This vision happened a few days after their last talk together at the foot of Montecassino. In a vision, Benedict saw the soul of Bishop Germanus of Capua taken by angels in a fire globe. These visions, for Pope Saint Gregory the Great, showed a close union between Benedict and God, a union so intense that the Saint was given the share of an even more magnificent vision, the whole of creation as gathered in a sunbeam. 

In the end, a life so noble was justifiably followed by a much-glorified death. According to tradition, Saint Benedict died on March 21, 547 AD. He foresaw his coming death, informing his close and faraway disciples that the end was near. Six days before dying, he had the grave, which he was to share with his deceased sister, Saint Scholastica, opened. Then, completely exhausted, he asked to be taken into his oratory where, after taking his last Holy Communion, he died supported by his monks.

Source: St Benedict Church

SAINT ROSTISLAV-MICHAEL, GREAT PRINCE OF KIEV (1167)

Saint Rostislav-Michael, Great Prince of Kiev, was the son of the Kievan Great Prince Saint Mstislav the Great (June 14), and the brother of holy Prince Vsevolod-Gabriel (February 11, April 22, and November 27). He was one of the mid-twelfth century's great civil and churchly figures.

His name is connected with the fortification and rise of Smolensk, and both the Smolensk principality and the Smolensk diocese.

Up until the twelfth century the Smolensk land was part of the Kievan realm. The beginning of its political separation took place in the year 1125, when holy Prince Mstislav the Great, gave Smolensk to his son Rostislav (in Baptism Michael) as an inheritance from his father, the Kievan Great Prince Vladimir Monomakh. Thanks to the work and efforts of Saint Rostislav, the Smolensk principality, which he ruled for more than forty years, expanded and was built up with cities and villages, adorned with churches and monasteries, and became influential in Russian affairs.

Saint Rostislav founded the cities of Rostislavl, Mstislavl, Krichev, Propoisk, and Vasiliev among others. He was the forefather of the Smolensk princely dynasty.

In 1136 Saint Rostislav succeeded in establishing a separate Smolensk diocese. Its first bishop was Manuel, installed between March-May of 1136 by Metropolitan Michael of Kiev. Prince Rostislav issued an edict in the city of Smolensk assuring Bishop Manuel that he would provide him with whatever he needed. On September 30, 1150 Saint Rostislav also ceded Cathedral Hill at Smolensk to the Smolensk diocese, where the Dormition cathedral and other diocesan buildings stood.

Contemporaries thought highly of the church construction of Prince Rostislav. Even the sources that are inclined to report nothing more about it note that “this prince built the church of the Theotokos at Smolensk.” The Dormition cathedral, originally built by his grandfather, Vladimir Monomakh, in the year 1101 was rebuilt and expanded under Prince Rostislav. The rebuilt cathedral was consecrated by Bishop Manuel on the Feast of the Dormition, August 15, 1150. Prince Rostislav was a “builder of the Church” in a far wider sense: he endowed the Smolensk Dormition church of the Mother of God, and transformed it from a city cathedral into the ecclesiastical center of the vast Smolensk diocese.

Holy Prince Rostislav was the builder of the Smolensk Kremlin, and of the Savior cathedral at the Smyadynsk Boris and Gleb monastery, founded on the place of the murder of holy Prince Gleb (September 5). Later his son David, possibly fulfilling the wishes of his father, transferred the old wooden coffins of Saints Boris and Gleb from Kievan Vyshgorod to Smyadyn.

In the decade of the fifties of the twelfth century, Saint Rostislav was drawn into a prolonged struggle for Kiev, which involved representatives of the two strongest princely lines: the Olgovichi and the Monomakhovichi.

On the Monomakhovichi side the major contender to be Great Prince was Rostislav’s uncle, Yurii Dolgoruky. Rostislav, as Prince of Smolensk, was one of the most powerful rulers of the Russian land and had a decisive voice in military and diplomatic negotiations.

For everyone involved in the dispute, Rostislav was both a dangerous opponent and a desired ally, and he was at the center of events. This had a providential significance, since Saint Rostislav distinguished himself by his wisdom regarding the civil realm, by his strict sense of justice and unconditional obedience to elders, and by his deep respect for the Church and its hierarchy. For several generations he was the bearer of the “Russkaya Pravda” (“Russian Truth”) and of Russian propriety.

After the death of his brother Izyaslav (November 13, 1154), Saint Rostislav became Great Prince of Kiev, but he ruled Kiev at the same time with his uncle Vyacheslav Vladimirovich. After the latter’s death, Rostislav returned to Smolensk, ceding the Kiev princedom to his other uncle, Yurii Dolgoruky, and he removed himself from the bloodshed of the princely disputes. He occupied Kiev a second time on April 12, 1159 and he then remained Great Prince until his death (+ 1167). More than once, he had to defend his paternal inheritance with sword in hand.

The years of Saint Rostislav’s rule occurred during one of the most complicated periods in the history of the Russian Church. The elder brother of Rostislav, Izyaslav Mstislavich, a proponent of the autocephaly of the Russian Church, favored the erudite Russian monk Clement Smolyatich for Metropolitan, and wanted him to be made Metropolitan by a council of Russian bishops, without seeking the usual approval from the Patriarch of Constantinople. This occurred in the year 1147.

The Russian hierarchy basically supported Metropolitan Clement and Prince Izyaslav in their struggle for ecclesiastical independence from Constantinople, but several bishops headed by Saint Niphon of Novgorod (April 8), did not recognize the autocephaly of the Russian metropolitanate and shunned communion with it, having transformed their dioceses into independent ecclesial districts, pending the resolution of this question. Bishop Manuel of Smolensk also followed this course. Saint Rostislav understood the danger which lay hidden beneath the idea of Russian autocephaly for these times, which threatened the break-up of Rus. The constant fighting over Kiev among the princes might also lead to a similar fight over the Kievan See among numerous contenders, put forth by one princely group or another.

The premonitions of Saint Rostislav were fully justified. Yurii Dolgoruky, who remained loyal to Constantinople, occupied Kiev in the year 1154. He immediately banished Metropolitan Clement and petitioned Constantinople for a new Metropolitan. This was to be Saint Constantine (June 5), but he arrived in Rus only in the year 1156, six months before the death of Yurii Dolgoruky (+ May 15, 1157). Six months later, when Saint Rostislav’s nephew Mstislav Izyaslavich entered the city on December 22, 1157, Saint Constanine was obliged to flee Kiev, while the deposed Clement Smolyatich returned as Metropolitan. Then a time of disorder began in Russia, for there were two Metropolitans.

All the hierarchy and the clergy came under interdict: the Greek Metropolitan suspended the Russian supporters of Clement, and Clement suspended all the supporters of Constantine. To halt the scandal, Saint Rostislav and Mstislav decided to remove both Metropolitans and petition the Patriarch of Constantinople to appoint a new archpastor for the Russian metropolitan See.

But this compromise did not end the matter. Arriving in Kiev in the autumn of 1161, Metropolitan Theodore died in spring of the following year. Following the example of Saint Andrew Bogoliubsky (July 4), who supported his own fellow ascetic Bishop Theodore to be Metropolitan, Saint Rostislav put forth his own candidate, who turned out to be the much-suffering Clement Smolyatich.

The fact that the Great Prince had changed his attitude toward Metropolitan Clement, shows the influence of the Kiev Caves monastery, and in particular of Archimandrite Polycarp. Archimandrite Polycarp, who followed the traditions of the Caves (in 1165 he became head of the monastery), was personally very close to Saint Rostislav.

Saint Rostislav had the pious custom of inviting the igumen and twelve monks to his own table on the Saturdays and Sundays of Great Lent, and he served them himself. The prince more than once expressed the wish to be tonsured a monk at the monastery of Saints Anthony and Theodosius, and he even gave orders to build a cell for him.

The monks of the Caves, a tremendous spiritual influence in ancient Rus, encouraged the prince to think about the independence of the Russian Church. Moreover, during those years in Rus, there was suspicion regarding the Orthodoxy of the bishops which came from among the Greeks, because of the notorious “Dispute about the Fasts” (the “Leontian Heresy”). Saint Rostislav’s pious intent to obtain the blessing of the Patriarch of Constantinople for Metropolitan Clement came to naught. The Greeks believed that appointing a Metropolitan to the Kiev cathedra was one of their most important prerogatives. This served not only the ecclesiastical, but also the political interests of the Byzantine Empire.

In 1165 a new Greek Metropolitan arrived at Kiev, John IV, and Saint Rostislav accepted him out of humility and churchly obedience. The new Metropolitan, like his predecessor, governed the Russian Church for less than a year (+ 1166). The See of Kiev was again left vacant, and the Great Prince was deprived of the fatherly counsel and spiritual wisdom of a Metropolitan. His sole spiritual solace was the igumen Polycarp and the holy Elders of the Kiev Caves monastery and the Theodorov monastery at Kiev, which had been founded under his father.

Returning from a campaign against Novgorod in the spring of 1167, Saint Rostislav fell ill. When he reached Smolensk, where his son Roman was prince, relatives urged him to remain at Smolensk. But the Great Prince gave orders to take him to Kiev. “If I die along the way,” he declared, “put me in my father’s monastery of Saint Theodore. If God should heal me, through the prayers of His All-Pure Mother and Saint Theodosius, I shall take vows at the monastery of the Caves.”

God did not fulfill Saint Rostislav’s last wish to end his life as a monk of the holy monastery. The holy prince died on the way to Kyiv on March 14, 1167. (In other historical sources, the year is given as 1168). His body, in accord with his last wishes, was brought to the Kyiv Theodosiev monastery.

Source: Orthodox Church in America_OCA

ISAIAH 5:16-25

16 But the Lord of hosts shall be exalted in judgment, And God who is holy shall be hallowed in righteousness. 17 Then the lambs shall feed in their pasture, And in the waste places of the fat ones strangers shall eat. 18 Woe to those who draw iniquity with cords of vanity, And sin as if with a cart rope; 19 That say, “Let Him make speed and hasten His work, That we may see it; And let the counsel of the Holy One of Israel draw near and come, That we may know it.” 20 Woe to those who call evil good, and good evil; Who put darkness for light, and light for darkness; Who put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter! 21 Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes, And prudent in their own sight! 22 Woe to men mighty at drinking wine, Woe to men valiant for mixing intoxicating drink, 23 Who justify the wicked for a bribe, And take away justice from the righteous man! 24 Therefore, as the fire devours the stubble, And the flame consumes the chaff, So their root will be as rottenness, And their blossom will ascend like dust; Because they have rejected the law of the Lord of hosts, And despised the word of the Holy One of Israel. 25 Therefore the anger of the Lord is aroused against His people; He has stretched out His hand against them And stricken them, And the hills trembled. Their carcasses were as refuse in the midst of the streets. For all this His anger is not turned away, But His hand is stretched out still.

GENESIS 4:16-26

16 Then Cain went out from the presence of the Lord and dwelt in the land of Nod on the east of Eden. 17 And Cain knew his wife, and she conceived and bore Enoch. And he built a city, and called the name of the city after the name of his son—Enoch. 18 To Enoch was born Irad; and Irad begot Mehujael, and Mehujael begot Methushael, and Methushael begot Lamech. 19 Then Lamech took for himself two wives: the name of one was Adah, and the name of the second was Zillah. 20 And Adah bore Jabal. He was the father of those who dwell in tents and have livestock. 21 His brother’s name was Jubal. He was the father of all those who play the harp and flute. 22 And as for Zillah, she also bore Tubal-Cain, an instructor of every craftsman in bronze and iron. And the sister of Tubal-Cain was Naamah. 23 Then Lamech said to his wives: “Adah and Zillah, hear my voice; Wives of Lamech, listen to my speech! For I have killed a man for wounding me, Even a young man for hurting me. 24 If Cain shall be avenged sevenfold, Then Lamech seventy-sevenfold.” 25 And Adam knew his wife again, and she bore a son and named him Seth, “For God has appointed another seed for me instead of Abel, whom Cain killed.” 26 And as for Seth, to him also a son was born; and he named him Enosh. Then men began to call on the name of the Lord.

[grayintogreen]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Currently 11k into Chapter Thirty-Three with two scenes left and so many of these scenes are spoilery so here's half a scene featuring WHAT'S ESSEK UP TO WHILE THE NEIN ARE CHILLING ON CULT ISLAND.

-

One of the many differences between a Shadowhand and a spy was in location and tactics- a Shadowhand was a courtier, a stiletto up a silk sleeve, a person who floated from bureaucratic event to bureaucratic event with a tight smile and open ears. Essek's entire world was whispers caught from the corners of ballrooms and sent back to the Bright Queen by way of folded notes in illusory script that only she had the countercharms to decode. For a solitary creature, he thrived in high society because he was only ever expected to listen and go ignored.

The real difference, you see, is that it wouldn't do you any good if anyone knew what a Shadowhand actually did. The role was founded on being a great many things depending on what was needed at the time. It was a prestige title and while there were some clever enough to figure out what it truly entailed, most who wanted the title- and that included most of the people who were and had been jealous of Essek being granted it- wanted it because it seemed particularly cushy. In an ideal world, everyone would only focus on him being the hand of the Queen and ignore that shadow was the important part of his title.

To wit, a Lens Operative or one of Den Quavein's foreign legion, could not stand in the middle of a party and expect treason to find their ears because no one would be that stupid as to even try to find a dark corner to conduct their dealings if any one of them were present. Lens Operatives hunted down what was already known or suspected and Den Quavein went out and donned silly little disguises and infiltrated foreign lands to seek intelligence and as far as Essek was concerned, he was above both of those things, because he didn't need to do anything to do his job, properly. His chief skill was being so lofty and arrogant that everyone believed him to be a spoiled brat with a bought title he didn't have to do much with; his only disguise was being a rat in the pantry pretending to be a cat chasing out the rest of the vermin.

So, of course, after years of believing himself above their tactics and sneering at them behind their backs, he found himself actually having to walk in their shoes. If Agee could ever forgive him when she balanced herself as much with Phaedra as she was going to, he half-hoped she would have a good laugh about him lurking on foreign soil in a disguise the same way she or one of her Den so often did. In reality, she would probably arrest him on the spot before she ever found it funny.

That also, of course, depended on him ever finding it funny, himself. It wasn't. He was uncomfortable, sitting here in the Academy's library and taking copious notes while keeping his ears trained on a conversation two tables over where three more of of the Weltschmerz were having a whispered conversation of little consequence, but he'd been doing this for a week now and every single time he'd come out of it with at least one nugget of information buried in the dirt of teenagers complaining about the weather or the work load or some other inane social problem that seemed to them like the end of the world.

He'd learned that there were twenty-seven members of the Weltschmerz total and that their ages ranged from sixteen to twenty-two. He knew that they did receive Residuum treatments due to how many of them clawed at their arms when they were at rest for too long, but he had still not discovered where Trent was giving them the treatments. From time spent keeping watch on Beck and Grieve because of Caleb's love for them, he knew that Beck was idolized by the pack of girls he had met and she had nothing to do with them in return- it was Grieve who was responsible for their training and it was Grieve who spent the most time with them outside of these walls. If Essek were inclined to put any sort of emotion towards observation, he'd say that the man was fond of the little army that had risen up from the ashes of the Volstrucker.

He never physically saw Trent on the grounds and rarely saw him when he attended Assembly functions with Ludinus. His annex, the Marchen woman, acted as his representative, but most things got delegated down to Beck and Grieve when they weren’t seen as important or politically advantageous enough. From that and the whispers he picked up, he could map out the entire dynamic of the whole lot of them.

Marchen was thriving because she had the power behind the throne of the Civil Influence seat and was practically acting in Ikithon’s stead; Beck was resentful that her role was that of mere spymaster without any spies of her own beyond the handful of Volstrucker left who were so green they were practically useless, suggesting she'd been given a meaningless promotion to keep her from vying for a better seat; Grieve was content in his kennel among the other dogs and therefore useless as a possible stepping stone for anyone, least of all Essek who had yet to find a weak link in the chain who wouldn’t choke him with it before he ever managed to break it.

He also found that, in considering other ways to undermine Trent without courting Ludinus's anger, the rest of the Assembly accepted the chaos in the Civil Influence sphere (irony!) and had nothing to say about it. Only yesterday after a particularly tense discussion where Marchen attempted to pull rank she didn't have and was only mildly reprimanded, Essek dared to ask Ludinus why they were allowed to carry on so.

The answer was unsurprising: the Volstrucker were the worst-kept secret in the Empire. Everyone saw the novel little wizard assassins that Trent was cooking up in his basement and wanted one for their very own. To stand against Trent was to have him reveal just what they were using his resources for on the sly.

Essek's follow-up question was, And they don't care what he does to these children?

Ludinus had just responded with the incredibly patriotic: Everyone likes to have sausage, but no one wants to know how it's made.

Of course Ludinus didn't care, but that the rest of the Assembly was willing to look the other way proved that Caleb had been right when he said that Essek hadn't thought his plan to use them for his own gain through. These were people who had never known a time without blood on their hands.

They are not simply corrupt politicians and they are not simply powerful wizards- they are the worst of both and they have an entire Empire that is not permitted to believe they are anything but just.

And for all his skills as a Shadowhand, there was not a shadow big enough to hide from them if they ever had reason to suspect he was anything other than Ludinus's pretty accessory he carried around with him while Vence ran ragged. He was out of his depth, but he was also succeeding and the problem of gambling is it's so much harder to leave the table when you're winning.

He could find a way to uproot the Assembly if he tried. He'd call it love, but it was just as much to prove he could. No one ever said that wanting to help your friends had to come at the expense of your own selfish whims.

Trent was the cornerstone and it was Trent he was here to unravel with Ludinus as a secondary, personal bonus. Remove him from play and Light above, what could he accomplish here?

Imagine telling his mother that. Why yes, Mother, I did topple a massive part of our enemy's government. Why did I do it? Well, because I committed treason and a group of idiots forgave me for it and I decided I liked them more than I liked committing further treason. Also Ludinus manipulated me and I took that personally.

[all-the-gory-details]

Whumptober Day 3

Journal / Solitary Confinement / “Make it stop.”

TW: Mentions of torture, mentions of assault, panic attack

Casey was alone.

Again.

He didn’t know how long it had been this time. There was no light where he was, no sound, nothing to tell time of day or year or if time was even still relevant. The world could be dark and desolate, and Casey wouldn’t notice.

He was hungry. And thirsty. And his knees were sore. God were they sore. He dealt with far worse pain than sore knees on a daily basis, and still the throbbing cut right down to his bones.

It was because there was nothing else to think about. Casey knew that. There was nothing in this world but Casey and hunger and thirst and sore knees and the silence.

The silence pushed into his eardrums, making him wince with the ringing wrongness of it. He could have hummed or whispered to himself, but he knew that Alexei had microphones, that he would pay the consequence for spoken words in his own blood. The only words allowed in this place were apologies and pleas for mercy.

Spoken words weren't allowed, but Alexei couldn’t control his mind. Not yet, at least. He’d seen some of the others, some of the ones Alexei didn’t mind shattering on the floor like expensive china. They were afraid to live, to breathe without his permission. 

Casey knew Alexei could do that to him, if he wanted. He wasn’t proud enough to believe he could win a battle so many had lost before him. But Alexei needed him whole, alive, and with enough fire to fight back, just a little.

Clients didn’t pay to torture a dead man walking.

For now, his mind was his own, and he used it freely. He bent forward a little, shifting some of the pressure from his bruised knees to his raw wrists, and started his daily journal entry.

Since he was 14, Casey had only missed 4 days in his journal; one day when his pet salamander died and he was too distraught to write, one day when he was invited to a friends cabin for the weekend and was too embarrassed to bring it along, and two days after he was mugged, left bleeding in an alleyway, and then picked up by a psycho who locked him in his basement and sold his suffering to the masses.

Of course, in the month since his… unfortunate encounter, he hadn’t had much access to paper or pens, so he’d switched his entries to mental ones. He also didn’t really know when a day had passed. He ‘wrote’ an entry whenever he felt he was about to go insane with fear, frustration, pain, or all three at once.

He wrote quite often.

March 17, 2023, he began. This was his birthday. When you didn’t know the date, he reasoned, every day could be your birthday.

My life sucks and I hate everything. What else is new? It’s been forever, just… sitting here. Waiting. Nothing to do but wait. I know… I know in my brain that there are tons of things way worse than sitting alone in a dark room for a day or two, but… I don’t know. When I’m in here, in the dark, it doesn’t even feel like a room anymore. It feels like this is the universe, and I’m alone in it. There's… nothing but me. Or everything is real but me, and I’m dead and gone and nonexistent. I know, logically, that Felix and everyone and… and Alexei… I know they’re all out there, only a few doors away, but my mind won’t fucking connect to my actual believing and feeling and- shit, I’m panick-

Breath, don’t panic, you’re not this weak, don’t-

You’re not alone, you do exist, they’re just not here right now, they’ll let you out eventually, but-

At this point, Casey stopped thinking in his journal. He had felt the panic attack coming on for a while. It always did, alone in the dark. He wasn’t sure why. He just knew he hated it.

For all the world it felt like he hadn’t seen another human in years, like he didn’t know what human was, like there had never been anything in the universe but darkness and silence.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

Breathing, hard and fast and gasping and

Sobbing, shaking and dripping and shuddering and

Pleading, desperate and whispered and shouted and screamed and

Please, please, don’t, I can’t live like th-this, make it, “stop, I-I-I please, make it stop, I c-can’t, please, please please PLEASE!”

Alexei opened the door an hour later, and Casey made his fervent apologies for whatever infraction he had committed. He couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter.

He said sorry.

He said he would be good.

He said anything he had to say to exist again.

[queen-street-news]

New Post has been published on https://bloornews.com/blog-toronto/canadian-pastor-convicted-of-inciting-mischief-in-trucker-protests-facing-up-to-10-years-prison/

Canadian Pastor Convicted of Inciting Mischief in Trucker Protests Facing Up to 10 Years Prison

By Allan Stein from

Pastor Artur Pawlowski’s troubles with the Canadian authorities began long before his sermon to commercial truckers encouraging their peaceful defiance against what he thought were “oppressive” public health mandates for COVID-19.

In 2005, he began serving and ministering to downtown Calgary—Alberta’s poor and downtrodden. “In other words, feeding the homeless and praying for them, which is now illegal,” he described to The Epoch Times in a telephone interview while under house arrest in Calgary following his court conviction in May for inciting mischief and violating his release conditions.

The police eventually showed up at Mr. Pawlowski’s church, telling him he couldn’t feed the homeless by law. Neither was he allowed to assemble or preach in public.

Such actions are also illegal and punishable with tickets, fines, and even jail time.

He added that tensions with the authorities had reached the point where police showed up at his church weekly.

During the pandemic, he received 40 tickets for COVID-19 violations, including one for a Christmas celebration he said drew a response from over 100 police officers, 52 police vehicles, as well as anti-terrorism units.

Over 300 Citations Between 2005 and 2015, Mr. Pawlowski said he received over 300 citations for refusing to stop preaching, feeding the homeless, and doing what he thought was helpful to those in need.

He was arrested and charged in 2006 for reading the Bible in public, and considers being the first Canadian to receive a COVID-19 ticket for feeding the homeless a badge of honor in what he’d say was righteous defiance.

“I asked them a simple question: ‘What do you think will happen to the homeless if we kick them out of shelters and shut down soup kitchens?'” he said of his efforts.

On Aug. 9, Mr. Pawlowski, a native of Poland and an acolyte of the “Solidarity Movement,” could receive up to 10 years in prison for the charge of “inciting mischief” during Canada’s nationwide trucker protests last year.

The protests rose in response to the public health rules of Canada’s Trudeau administration, sparking a massive “Freedom Convoy” from like-minded residents that threatened to bring the nation’s economy to a halt unless COVID-19 restrictions that were also impacting the economy and mental health were lifted.

Response to Government Overreach As a Christian minister, Mr. Pawlowski said he believed he was waging a spiritual battle against “government overreach” during the pandemic, even if it means he has to pay fines, get arrested, or go to jail.

On Feb. 7, 2022, at the border crossing blockade in Coutts, Alberta, Mr. Pawlowski told a crowd of commercial truckers, “It’s about time for Canadians to rise up and start roaring.”

“For the first time in two years, you’ve got the power. They’ve got the guns, yes—it’s all useless when you all rise up. There is no tyrant big enough that can stop [the] masses.”

Canadian authorities arrested and charged him with inciting mischief and interfering with essential infrastructure under Alberta’s Critical Infrastructure Defense Act of 2020.

The Critical Infrastructure Defense Act “protects essential infrastructure from damage or interference caused by blockades or similar activities, which can cause significant public safety, social, economic and environmental consequences.”

“Of course, if you listened to my service, you will know that I said no guns, no swords, just stand for God and human rights during my sermon three times,” he said of the accusation.

Mr. Pawlowski said he spent 50 days in prison, mostly in solitary confinement surrounded by concrete cells, before he was placed in maximum security and a psychiatric ward without evaluation.

The court found him guilty of inciting mischief in May. Judge Gordon Krinke placed him under 12-hour daily house arrest until his sentencing date.

Months later, he is “still under house arrest in Calgary,” he said.

Belief on Trial “I am the first Canadian where my sermon and speech were on trial. Everything was about what I said. The lawyers argued what I meant. It was a charade, a show trial—a joke,” Mr. Pawlowski said.

“I was not allowed to say a word as they debated what I said and what I meant. They couldn’t agree on the wording.”

Mr. Pawlowski said he is also the first Canadian citizen charged with eco-terrorism in the history of Canada.

“And now, the judge ruled I am the first Canadian ever to be found guilty of inciting mischief and eco-terrorism,” Mr. Pawlowski said. “The Canadian courts are upside down. I am a political prisoner. It has nothing to do with law and order,” he expressed.

Mr. Pawlowski told The Epoch Times he had received offers of money and government positions in exchange for his silence, but he’s “not for sale.”

“I have seen this movie before” under communism in Poland, he said. “It does not end well.”

[vibrantbirdy]

Pursuit: A Ben Solo Star Wars Story - Chapter 6

Title: Pursuit Fandom: Star Wars: Skywalker Saga Genres: Sci-Fi, Action/Adventure, Romance Setting: Post The Rise of Skywalker (Ben Solo lives!) Chapter: 6/? Main Character: Ben Solo (Kylo Ren) Warnings: Canon-typical violence; adventure peril; minor angst; consensual sexual situations (it's happening!) - this chapter contains strong sexual content and is 18+. Please heed and respect the adult only rating Main Pairings: Ben Solo/OC Summary: Three years after surviving events on the planet Exegol, Ben Solo is carving out a solitary life for himself in the New Republic against the backdrop of reconstruction. His pursuance of quiet redemption is interrupted when a new threat to the Galaxy emerges from an old and terrifying enemy. With the help of new friends and unlikely allies, Ben must set out into Wild Space to defeat the darkness rising and put his own demons to rest once and for all. Pinned Post: Please find all completed chapters of Pursuit here. Read: Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5

Chapter 6: (Word Count 4127)

Jaturra was a strange planet. It had an ancient, primordial feeling to it that made Ada uneasy. After landing the poor, faithful Swift in the middle of a filthy bog, she and Ben had trekked across swathes of open moorland for several kilometres. Cold, thick mist had swirled about them. It had the effect of muffling the planet's already unfamiliar animal noises in the most unnerving way. It caused Ada to imagine, irrationally she hoped, that there were ghosts out there in the fog somewhere just beyond her sight.

Ada got the distinct impression that all progress, everywhere, on Jaturra was inherently slow. Now, they found themselves pushing their way at a glacial pace through an eerie, overgrown forest where the undergrowth was so thick that branches grabbed at them, snagging their clothes and hair. The stunted trees were so twisted and decrepit, Ada marvelled that any of them were still standing, let alone bearing leaves. Their small stature and dense foliage meant that the coniferous canopy was very low and gave the unpleasant impression that the dark forest was bearing down on them.

Ben had a small, portable holo map onto which he'd loaded Chewbacca's coordinates for their destination - the mysterious Imperial archive. Even still, Ada couldn't help but wonder what would happen if they got themselves lost in this alien landscape with so many Imperials apparently lurking around.

As if she'd manifested it with her thoughts, it was about that very moment they spotted their first Imperial patrol. An AT-ST machine and six Stormtroopers. They'd heard the patrol before they saw it. The mechanical howl of the AT-ST lifting it's massive limbs and the thunderous, earth shaking thud that followed as the war machine's huge metal feet made contact with the ground again.

Ada had always hated the idea of them, but she'd never seen one in real life. Her grandfather had fought them in battle, along with their colossal, four-limbed cousins, the AT-ATs, with devastating consequences. Ground troops had little chance against such weaponry. They relied upon air strikes by X-Wing fighters to take out the hulking mechanical threat and sometimes, these simply never came.

Grandpa had always spoken of the Imperial war machines as if they themselves were alive, rather than driven and controlled by the soldiers inside the hood. Now, she understood why. As she lay flat on her stomach beside Ben in the damp undergrowth, she was overcome by an uncanny feeling of dread watching the bipedal hulk of metal lumber by.

As if he sensed her unease, Ben silently reached out and lay a hand on her far shoulder, his arm coming to rest comfortingly across her back. Under his touch, she exhaled a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

Since their meeting with Chewbacca on Theod, Ada had refrained from asking about any of it – about Chewbacca, about Ben's father's ship. But whatever had passed between Ben and the Wookie, it had lifted an unsurmountable weight from his shoulders. There was a shift in him, subtle but definite. He was freer with his words, more animated with his gestures, quicker to flash that beguiling smirk of his at her.

Three hours into their journey to Jaturra, Ada had settled, cross-legged as always, in the Swift's copilot chair, having found a broken caf machine part to tinker with. She was distracted from her work by a soft snoring and had looked over at Ben, flabbergasted to see that he had actually fallen asleep in the pilot's seat. His arms were crossed across his chest, head tilted back against the headrest with his mouth slightly agape. It was the first time she'd really seen him look completely relaxed, a strange thing, considering they were flying towards unknown, untold dangers.

A soft tap on her shoulder, brought her back to the present. Ben rose to his feet, proffering her his hand. She sat up and took it and he launched her upwards with far greater a flourish than was necessary, making her stomach flip with the rush of motion. She shoved him playfully in the shoulder, but the only parts of him that moved were the corners of his mouth as they lifted upwards into an amused smile.

They continued onwards, forging their wary way together through the thick vegetation of Jaturra's deep forest.

***********************************************************************

Ben watched Ada as she navigated her way through the knotted tangle of branches ahead of them. Her lightness of foot over the difficult terrain made him feel slow and ungainly. She was nimble and quick, able to clamber over trees and rocks with astonishing speed, squeezing through small spaces where Ben's bigger size and height posed a significant disadvantage. He sensed her exhilaration as each new physical challenge fed her adventurous spirit. She was relishing the journey, despite the dangers.

In truth, he was enjoying it too. Still, the three Imperial patrols they had encountered had unsettled him. Two of them had AT-STs accompanying them. They were older models, but no less deadly. And the Stormtroopers themselves were a motley crew. They wore a variety of uniforms both Imperial and First Order, some in such disrepair it gave the impression that the solider within must have risen from the dead, destined to repeat old patterns like a trapped spirit.

An army of ghosts.

At least he would be able to make good on his word to pass intel on to Dameron. There was enough here to fill a report that would keep the Republic's Senate occupied for months.

He wondered if Chewbacca and Del, far away on Theod knew the true extent of the Imperial activity here. He expected they had their suspicious, but he wasn't sure anyone could have predicted such a revival after the seemingly all-encompassing defeat suffered by the First Order at the hands of the Resistance.

As he followed Ada's lead, clambering through yet another knot of gnarled trees, Ben thought again of Chewbacca. The seeming impossibility of Wookie's forgiveness had been a stalwart pillar of Ben's life for so long, he hardly knew where he stood without it. He felt both more liberated and more lost than ever, suddenly standing at a precipice of a new page of his life. Yet, even if Chewbacca could, Ben wasn't sure he could forgive himself for his own transgressions. He wasn't sure he ever should.

And forging into Imperial territory, hunting Inquisitors? These were not activities without risks unique to Ben. Deep within him dwelt the fear that, if pressed, he would be too weak to resist the seduction back to the Dark Side. Sometimes, in his darkest moments, he longed to feel again the elemental power of the Dark Side of the Force, rushing through his veins like life blood and bending to his every whim, as it once had when he was Kylo Ren. The thought now was abhorrent to him, but then again, he had felt that way about the Dark Side as a child...and look what had become of him.

Ben's connection to the Light was growing each day, but he felt that it was untested and untried and, like his new lightsaber, unchristened by combat. As he and Ada made their way deeper into Jaturra, he felt unready, like a green Padawan Learner on the eve of his first battle.

Yet with Chewbacca's pardon, the reluctant acceptance of Dameron and Finn, and with Ada by his side, he realised that the events of the past weeks had also given rise to something new growing within him. An ember smouldering deep within his soul. He felt hope.

***************

When night fell on Jaturra, it didn't creep in quietly or slowly as Ben had witnessed on some worlds. Instead it came crashing in around them as if someone had a dropped shroud of darkness over the planet.

Choosing a spot to camp for the night wasn't tricky The old trees and lush undergrowth gave significant coverage from prying eyes and they'd managed to find a spot where a rocky overhang provided some extra shelter and somewhere they could put their backs to. Still, there was no way they could light a fire in case the Imps spotted it. Luckily the planet seemed to be in its summer season and it was a warm night.

Just as Ben and Ada were sitting down to feast on a protein bar each, there came from somewhere in the blackness the most unholy noise. It sounded like the screech of some indescribable demon beset by fury or anguish or both.

The two leapt to their feet. Ada had her blaster in one hand, expertly trained on the encroaching darkness, and a good grip on Ben's bicep with the other. He was starting to think he might actually have to ask her to ease up a bit as her nails were starting to dig painfully in to his skin.

Instead, he reached for his lightsaber, readying the emitter in his hand. He was loathe to light it in such blackness, lest the beam attract any Stormtrooper who might be lurking like moths to a flame.

After what seemed like an age, snuffling round the corner and into a patch of moonlight before them came small, fluffy creature about the size of a Loth cat. In anyone's vernacular, it could only ever be described as cute. It waddled low to the ground with short little legs and a long furry tail. It had big, luminous eyes that shone, reflective in the darkness and large rounded ears topped off with tufts of black fur. It gave them only a passing glance, huffed, then continued on its way prowling for prey which Ben suspected could be no more than unsuspecting insects. Certainly not people.

Ada's grasp on his arm loosened immediately as she sighed with relief then started to laugh. She turned towards him and put a hand on his chest as she really started to giggle. It was infectious. Now laughing freely himself, Ben wrapped an arm around Ada's waist, emboldened by her touch. He looked down at her, enchanted by her gleeful expression. When their laughter subsided, they stood like that for a moment, just looking at each other. Then, both appeared to make the same decision at once and they collided into a frenzied kiss, the unspoken tension that had been smouldering between them for weeks igniting into a blaze of passion.

Ben lifted Ada up and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. He felt himself harden instantly against the feel of her body. As he spun her around to push her against the flat rock they had as chosen as the back wall of their makeshift camp, he placed one big hand behind her head, conscious not to be too careless in his enthusiasm.

He buried his face in Ada's neck, breathing in her now familiar, intoxicating wildflower scent. He heard a moan escape from his own lips as she grasped and tugged at his hair just as he'd imagined she might. She kissed a trail of fire up his throat, along the edge of his jaw line and up to nibble on his ear. Then she tore his shirt from him amid a flurry of kisses, before removing her own just as quickly.

Gently, Ben grasped her by the nape of her neck, thumb coming to rest against her cheek, stopping the welcome onslaught of her passion just for a second. He just wanted to look at her for a moment. He drunk in the curves and planes of her ethereal body as her skin shone luminous in the moonlight. Ada smiled at him then, her beautiful face so open, green eyes alight with a heady mix of joy and arousal.

As Ben lifted her away from the rock, he trailed his fingers lightly up the length of her spine from the small of her back to the nape of her neck, relishing how she gasped and arched at his touch. He lay her down on the grass, her loose red curls spreading out around her like a halo of fire.

He kissed his way down her body, over her breasts and down her stomach, hurriedly removing her boots and then her travelling leggings. Languidly, he traced his mouth all the way back up her calf to her inner thigh where he grazed her lightly with his teeth. He smiled against her skin as she moaned his name, desperate for him to move to that most sensitive, sacred place between her legs.

Ben did as he was asked, slowly exploring her with his mouth. She gripped handfuls of his hair in a way that was pleasurably on the edge of being painful. He gloried in the way she writhed beneath him and took his time, watching with gratification as the expression of abandon increased on her face. Finally, he worked to release her, senselessness and keening, over the edge and into the abyss.

**********************************************************************

Reeling and breathless from the oblivion Ben had brought her to, Ada somehow made it up on to her knees where she crashed into him again with open mouthed, wanton kisses. She reached for his belt, helping him free of his pants and he grunted in relief. She reached for him and he threw his head back with a guttural sigh, exposing his long neck to her mouth and tongue, as her hands worked over his hard length.

Ada lay back down, drawing Ben on top of her. He used his knees to push her legs apart with exhilarating roughness, making room for himself to move between them. Ada revelled in the comforting warmth and pressure of his body weight on top of her. She closed her eyes and arched towards him in anticipation, wanting him, needing him within her.

But he stopped then, suddenly, and Ada looked up into his face above hers. His eyes were deep golden pools clouded with arousal and they searched her own desperately, asking – pleading - for her permission. There was a deep furrow between his brows and his mouth was hanging slightly open as he panted out short, ragged breaths.

The juxtaposition of his overwhelming physical power and this unexpected show of submission and vulnerability made Ada's desire explode anew within her.

She made him wait just a moment longer than was probably fair, delighting in the beautiful sight of him delirious with primal need, but resisting it all the same. His body glistened with sweat in the starlight, broad chest and shoulders heaving with each shuddering breath he took.

Finally, she grasped the back of his neck, weaving her fingers tightly through his raven hair, and brought his forehead to rest against her own.

“Ben,” she whispered softly, and it was all he needed to take control again.

They both gasped as Ben entered her. His movements were slow and strong, his mouth on Ada's, then at her neck, her collar bone, her breasts, his beard tickling and scratching at her skin. She found that her fingers wanted to be all over him, everywhere all at once, in his mouth, tangled in his wild black hair, raking up and down his back. She coiled her legs around him, drawing him as close to her as possible until they were completely and utterly entwined.

As Ben moved within her, it felt as though they were the only two beings in the whole Galaxy. Ada's her whole body was singing with transcendental ecstasy. Her senses were flooded. The enthralling scent of Ben's arousal mixed with the comforting smell of earth and grass. The exquisite feeling of him inside her and the soft ground shifting ever so slightly underneath her as they moved together. The delicious sight of his face so lost in his needful rapture and, over his shoulder and past the canopy, the endless star filled sky of Jaturra above them.

Ben's groans of pleasure rose in chorus with her own as his desire completely overwhelmed him. He drove into her again and again, faster and harder and every nerve of Ada's body felt aflame. She watched, captivated, as the huge muscles in his neck tensed as if they might snap before, finally, he let out an animalistic growl and reached a long, shuddering release.

After a moment, Ada reached up to move strands of dark hair away from his amber eyes which were drowsy with satisfaction. Her quivering hand came to rest against his warm, flushed cheek and he pressed her palm to his face with his own, then turned his head to plant a series of lazy kisses on it.

Reluctantly, Ben withdrew, gently lifting himself to lie down beside her. Ada placed her head on his chest, as he wrapped her up in his strong arms. She listened as his rapid heartbeat started to slow and steady within him. It reminded her of that very first night in his quarters on the Swift after his vision of the Inquisitor. They lay together in contented silence, looking up into Jaturra's leafy framed sky.

********************************************************************

The sound of strange, alien birds singing brought Ada slowly into drowsy consciousness. The sun was on the rise, still low in the sky. Suddenly the surroundings of Jaturra seemed much more beautiful than before.

A bank of mist had rolled in over night. While it had appeared eerie and unwelcoming the day before on the moorland, but here in the forest with the morning sun trying to push its way through, it was strangely beautiful. It wrapped itself with smoky tendrils around the ancient trees, and gave the canopy above a bright, golden.

Ada was covered by a variety of clothes. Some belonged to her, some to Ben, whose absence next to her she suddenly felt keenly after spending the night in his arms. She sat up to look for him, but he wasn't far away.

Shirtless and cross-legged in the grass with his back to her, Ben was meditating. His shoulders rose and fell as he took deep, slow breaths and she could see his large hands resting, palms upwards, on his knees.

Pulling on her clothes, Ada went to sit down next to him as quietly as she could. It felt like a strangely intimate and personal act to watch and she felt loathe to disturb him. For some time, she wasn't sure that he was even aware of her presence until he lazily opened one eye to look at her and grinned.

It was her favourite smile of his, the one which sat crookedly on his face, dimples carving deep ridges at the corners of his mouth and eyes, his nose drawing upwards, giving the impression it was sharpening at the tip. She reached across and cupped his face, planting a kiss on his lips and then on the tip of his prominent nose.

“We should get moving,” Ben said after a few minutes of comfortable silence. Reluctance hung heavy in his voice. Neither of them wanted to break the spell they had cast the previous night.

Ada nodded. She stood up and stretched. She stopped suddenly, mid yawn, and narrowed her eyes, squinting through the trees ahead. In the morning light she could now see it. The outline of a huge building, looming like some grey megalith in the distance. The Imperial archive facility.

********************************************************************* It took Ada and Ben less than an hour to reach the fringes of the archive compound. They found a vantage point, high above on a ridge. They squatted low amongst the bushes and assessed the situation below.

It looked exactly how Ada imagined a typical Imperial complex of this size to look. Huge and practically windowless, as if it was constructed out of a single, grey slab. There was a massive landing platform at the front of the building, a variety of ships sitting motionless and dormant. There were Stormtroopers positioned high on metal gangways and in tall lookout towers. Officers bearing Imperial and First Order insignia were passing back and forward across the landing platform, crossing the complex with typical Imperial arrogance. Ben used the portable holo reader to check the very basic external schematic of the building included with Chewbacca's intel. It confirmed that they were right about what they were now looking at. An unguarded service door.

Their progress down the steep ridge was painfully slow and fraught. They'd chosen a point that didn't seem to attract much attention from the Stormtrooper patrols. Even still, each time one of them slipped on the gravelly scree and sent a noisy cascade of stones tumbling down down towards the compound Ada's heart had stopped.

Finally, they scrambled down. The door really was unguarded. Ada couldn't believe it. She kept a lookout while Ben tore off the control panel and started tinkering with the wires inside. Within moments, something sparked and the door slid open.

For a place so heavily guarded on the outside, it was surprisingly quiet within the sterile feeling corridors. Only twice had they needed to double back around a corner to avoid Stormtroopers doing their cursory security rounds.

Ben appeared to know his way around the structure intrinsically, stopping only occasionally to orient himself. There was something unnerving about that which Ada couldn't quite put her finger on. Finally, after navigating the maze of corridors with surprising ease, they reached the access point to the archive.

Ben didn't hesitate. He stepped out around the corner and walked up to the front desk with astonishing confidence. He was holding himself tall and ridged with more than just a sliver of arrogance in his long stride. It was as if he belonged there.

A rotund little man with a grey moustache narrowed his eyes and half stood up, taking in Ben's civilian clothing and his rather dishevelled and dirty appearance.

“Who...”

Ben waved his hand almost casually in front of the man's face before he could get any further with his line of questioning. “You will give me all information you hold on Endo Seris and the Inquisitorius,” he said in a flat, commanding voice.

It was his usual tone, low and level, but there was a note of danger to it, a sharp edge that Ada had never heard before.

“Yes, of course,” the archivist replied indignantly as he dropped back down into his seat with a thud.

He seemed affronted at the very idea that he might be unable to fulfil such a simple request. He took the data stick proffered by Ben and inserted it into his computer with a flourish. Ada watched, fascinated, as the little man diligently started work on retrieving the files he'd been asked for.

It took less than a minute, but it felt like forever. All the while they were standing there Ada's heart was in her mouth. She expected a swathe of Stormtroopers to come round the corner at any time. Finally, the archivist handed the stick back to Ben.

“We were never here,” Ben spoke again with that steady, cold timbre, before turning on his heel and stalking back to Ada who took one last curious peek around the corner at the archivist. He was contentedly busying himself with marking up the holo file in front of him as if nothing had happened.

“How did you...” Ada started, but Ben cut across her, as he took her by the elbow and steered her quickly back down the hall from where they'd come.

“It only works on the weak minded...”

Before Ada could ask anything further, a mouse repair droid darted out from a service hatch and straight into Ben's boot. He and Ada both stared at it in surprise. Then, with a slowness that Ada would have found comical under different circumstances, they raised their heads simultaneously to look across at each other, stunned into paralysis by their bad luck.

With a squeak, and before either of them could move, the droid whizzed off down the corridor away from them. Within five seconds a deafening alarm had started to blare. It was accompanied by a pulsing red light which intermittently illuminated the corridors in a ghoulish, scarlet glow.

Ben moved first. He changed direction, grabbing Ada's hand and swinging her around as they started to run. She noticed that he'd unclipped his lightsaber from his belt although he didn't ignite it.

They passed the archivist again who was wearing an expression of pure bemusement on his face. He let out a perfunctory hey! as Ada and Ben barrelled past his desk.

“Where are we going?!” Ada asked as she bounded along at Ben's shoulder, having to shout above the din of the alarm.

“We need a quick exit, we've got to get up to that landing pad!”

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Midnight Blades {21}

Aemond Targaryen x princess!reader (Dark!themes) Summary: The fleet sets sail across the Narrow Sea to Westeros, with one stop off along the way. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, fighting, blood, sexual themes WC: 2112

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Part Nine || Part Ten || Part Eleven || Part Twelve || Part Thirteen || Part Fourteen || Part Fifteen || Part Sixteen || Part Seventeen || Part Eighteen || Part Nineteen || Part Twenty || Part Twenty-One || Part Twenty-Two ||

Ships filled the harbour as far as the naked eye could see, their sails unfurling as the fleet prepared to cross the Narrow Sea. 

“You forgot something.”

You spun to face your father as he joined you on the balcony that overlooked the sea. In his hands he held the diadem that he had placed upon your head when he named you Crown Princess and heir to Scythe. 

“That may set to antagonise the very people we are trying to calm,” you said with a chuckle, but bowed your head and allowed him to place the delicate circlet atop your head. 

“I haven’t cared much for what the lords in Westeros think.” His lips curled with a small smile that deepened the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and he took hold of your hands. “I have faith that you will soon be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, and when I am gone that will become eight.”

You looked at his tired eyes and saw the weight of his reign set within them. He had lost two wives, his only son and countless friends that he had treasured and in that moment he looked like he was saying his final farewell to you too. 

You squeezed his hands and opened your mouth to reassure him but he interrupted you with a shake of his head and said, “We have had our differences, you and I, but I have always loved you. From the moment you entered the world I knew you were destined for something great and although I haven’t said it, I want you to know how proud I am of you. And him, I suppose.”

Aemond chuckled from where he had been standing silently at your side, the begrudging tone doing little to hide the truth of your fathers words. “Thank you, your grace…I suppose.”

Your elbow connected with Aemond’s ribs but his amusement only grew as he rubbed the spot. A rattle tinkled beside him and he reached out to catch the chain that kept Kilexys from flying too far away, the young dragon quickly learning how to use its wings in the weeks since it hatched. You gave the little beast a smile as it landed on your shoulder and tried to bite a diamond from your crown.

“You are more magpie than dragon,” you muttered as you scratched its chin. The little dragon leaned into the touch as its blinking slowed and its jaw opened wide with a yawn.

“Shit,” Aemond cursed as he shot forward, catching the dragon around the belly and turning it away before a small splutter of fire erupted from its mouth. “I do hope the Dragon Keepers survived the coup. This is getting tiresome.”

Your father barked a laugh and clapped a hand on your husband’s shoulder. “Just wait until your daughter is a teenager, if she is anything like her mother, not even a dragon can compete with that.”

You started to argue that you were not that bad but remembered all the times Ser Negan had saved you from the consequences of your own actions and slammed your mouth shut. None of which went unnoticed by Aemond and he cocked an eyebrow, suddenly very interested in your formative years before meeting him. 

“I’ll tell you when you are sat upon the Iron Throne,” you said before he could ask.

His lips curved at the corners and he dipped his head closer. “Then we shall waste not a minute more. Our fleet awaits, princess.”

–

Aemond’s silhouette stood solitary at the bow of the ship, the maiden carved into the wood looking to the west as he did. The shadow above had been a constant in the voyage so far, Vhagar gliding silently in the skies above. It could not have been a better day to set sail with calm seas and a warm breeze carrying into the later afternoon.

“If you are hoping to see land you will be waiting there a long time,” you said as you climbed the steps to reach the bow. 

You had just left Aedira and Kilexys curled up in a cradle, Nessa watching over them with a bucket of water at hand. The little dragon had yet to blow a flame in Aedira’s presence and although Aemond assured you that their bond kept her safe, you weren’t ready to take the chance - not when your own eyebrow had been a little singed by the beast. 

“In the grand scheme of things, four days does not seem so long,” Aemond replied as he opened his arm without turning and you stepped into the space between his body and the railing. 

His arms enveloped you and you rested your head on his shoulder as you looked across the empty landscape that was vastly different to the scene behind you. “You should rest while you can, once we make landfall there will be little time for sleep.”

“Soon,” he promised with a kiss to the top of your head. “I have a gift for you.”

He stepped back and brushed his dark cloak black to unhook an extra scabbard on his hip. He hadn’t even unsheathed the blade but you knew what it was by the new sapphire that filled the repaired pommel. 

“Midnight,” you said breathlessly. The necklace Aemond had commissioned from the broken pieces that had once been set in the dagger hung from your neck and you touched the gem before reaching for the blade. “Thank you, Aemond.”

“Can’t have my queen carrying such a common blade,” he said as he pulled the standard soldier's half sword from your hip. “It’s hardly fitting.”

You hooked the scabbard into the empty space and grinned up at Aemond. “Your mother wouldn’t have found it fitting for a queen to carry a blade at all.”

“I’m not too certain about that, she did slice open Rhaenyra’s arm when I was a child.” 

Your eyes widened as you laughed in disbelief. “How savage of her. I am impressed. Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Aemond chuckled and unsheathed his dagger baiting you with the curl of his finger. “Shall we see?”

You twirled your blade, reacquainting yourself with the weight and enjoying the way the sun caught on the folded metal. “You know I love a bit of foreplay.”

His lip curled in one corner with an enticing smirk that made your dress suddenly seem too tight for your body and your thighs clench before he attacked. The clash of blades drew the attention of the men on board and they reached for their weapons as they rushed onto the deck.

“At ease, lads,” Ser Negan said from where he watched with his half eaten apple. “The prince doesn’t need saving just yet.”

Aemond turned his attention to your personal guard and narrowed his eye at the insult but Negan just grinned and pointed past Aemond. “Watch your back, your highness.”

You had taken the distraction and used it to your advantage, sweeping Aemond feet out from under him and following his fall to the hardwood deck. You locked your knees around his hips with a palm planted on his chest, the tip of the blade resting against his throat.

“That was dirty, even for you,” Aemond huffed.

You leant down and kissed the pout from his lips. “Never said I fought fair. Oh, before I forget.” You took his hand from where it rested on your hip and pushed back the sleeve. “This debt was long overdue.” 

A hiss left his parted lips as you cut along his forearm before pulling the sleeve back down. You had never repaid him for leaving you, and when he returned he was in no shape to lose more blood. But now you were even. “Ready for another round?”

Aemond’s teeth caught his bottom lip and he lifted his hips, pressing his erection against you even with the layers of clothes between. “I’m ready to put you on your back.”

“In front of all these soldiers, how scandalous,” you said with a wiggle of your hips that caused a low groan to rumble from his chest. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time I fucked you in front of an audience,” he said with a smirk. “If memory serves me right, you enjoyed that didn’t you, princess.”

He pushed one knee up and twisted, rolling you beneath him as he caged you in his arms. “They’re watching…”

You shoved your hands out flat and Aemond’s breath was knocked from his chest as he sat up with a winded laugh. He stood up and pulled you to your feet, rubbing the spot you had hit him and you sent him a sweet smile as you said, “They’re watching to see me kick your ass.”

Three days later

Land grew on the horizon and as the sun rose higher in the sky it became clear to the captain where on the coast the ship was. Half a dozen ships broke away with yours while the rest headed directly to King’s Landing where what remained of the first fleet of Scythian soldiers waited. 

“Are you sure she will be here?” you asked Aemond as the long boat was rowed to the shore of a small cove that did not have a known name. 

“This was Helaena’s favourite place when we were young,” Aemond said wistfully. “Our father had a small cabin built for her so she could retreat when her mind would not quiet.”

It was common for those with foresight to be encumbered by the visions they saw and by their dreams so it made sense that the Queen needed a quiet space to reflect, one that her children knew was a safe place. 

Aemond jumped from the side of the boat as the hull beached upon the white sand and he took your hand as the wave retreated back to the sea, helping you to jump to the drier sand and save your boots from getting wet. “It’s just over this dune.”

Though he was sure the cove was empty, he rested his hand on the pommel of Dark Sister, ready to draw the long sword at the first sign of movement. Further up, in the mountains that sheltered the cove, Vhagar landed and took watch while her wings rested from the slow journey she was not accustomed to. 

“Someone is definitely here,” you said as a thin line of smoke rose from over the dune.

Aemond moved faster, climbing the soft sand until he reached the top and sighed with relief at what he saw. You broke the top of the dune a moment later to find the young princess sitting in the grass, picking the dandelions and blowing them to the winds. Her long white hair was a mess without her mother to brush and braid it but Jaehaera was alive and that was all that mattered. 

“Uncle Aemond!” she squealed when she looked up from his shadow. “Ser Willis! Aemond’s here!”

The door to the cabin swung open and the kingsguard appeared with his sword at the ready. Whether he did not believe that it truly was Aemond who had arrived or if he thought Aemond was a threat to his charge, you did not know but at least the girl had someone to watch over and protect her. 

Jaehaera didn’t know how to react as she saw the guard she trusted with her life freeze at the sight of her uncle who she had known all her life. 

“They said you died,” Ser Willis stammered after a moment of blinking at the prince. “You died at Rook’s Rest.”

“I did not make it out in one piece,” Aemond said as he held up his hand, sans one finger. “But I did survive.”

Ser Willis shook his head in disbelief before a frown grew on his forehead, then he dropped to his knee and clasped his hand over his chest. “My King.”

“Rise,” Aemond said. “Your King has need of you.”

The white cloak rose to his feet as he made his oath, “My sword is yours to command.”

Jaehaera launched at Aemond as the tension evaporated and she threw her arms around his legs until he picked her up and held her tight. “Mother’s gone.”

“I know, little one,” he said softly. “But she has been avenged, they have all been avenged. Would you like to go home?”

“You mean to the Red Keep?” she asked between sniffles and hiccups as she wiped her eyes. “It’s not ours anymore.”

“It belongs to House Targaryen, and it will be our home once more.”

Click here for Part Twenty-Two.

Taglist: @hopebaker , @xcharlottemikaelsonx , @eddiemunson17 , @ninjabritches , @solacestyles , @hideing , @missusnora , @marrianena , @jonsncws , @dudfahsn , @queenofterrasen418 , @naeviahope , @averagethottie , @evilcherries , @delusionsofnostalgia , @le-who-zer-her , @readsalot73 , @thewew , @m-indkiller , @blackundertaker , @insxgtt , @adoringanakin ,

[plus-size-reader]

Bedtimes Stories pt.2

Digger Harkness x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2046 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Your encounter with Digger not really going to plan

Part One

—————————————————————————————————

“You really wanna be alone with me, don’t ya darlin?” Digger grinned, once the guard was gone, leaning up against the bar.

You should have known sending the guard off straight away was going to give the man in front of you the wrong impression, but you didn’t care about that right now.

All you really cared about was making sure that he got the message, and that he stopped causing problems for the guards and other inmates.

Maybe then, you’d be able to get back to your sabbatical that you’d been waiting six years for.

“I really want you to behave yourself” you countered, not surprised that the man didn’t waste any time getting to what you knew was coming. At this point, it was almost comical how well you could read him.

It was just about what you’d been expecting but still you couldn’t help but scoff at the implication.

Not that something like that was enough to stop him.

Digger had always been convinced you had feelings for him, like Harley had with the Joker, and that you just didn’t realize it yet. Besides, from where he was sitting, there was no reason for you to not be together.

There was clearly a connection between the two of you and now that you were back, and he knew for sure that he didn’t have anything to actually worry about, there was even less reason to avoid that.

“Come on, you know you missed me” he hummed, both large arms bracing his side of the door above him as he got as close to the small window separating you as he could, reminding you of just how big he was.

Actually, if you stopped to think about it, you wondered if maybe he’d gotten even larger since you’d been gone.

It was likely, considering the fact that he didn’t have anything to do in his cell other than scream and do push ups.

“You know what Digger? That’s right, I just couldn’t stay away” you teased, your delivery as dry and sarcastic as humanly possible.

Sure, it may not have been the most professional approach, but you knew how to get results from the man in front of you.

You were the only psychiatrist he’d see at Belle Reve, and you’d gotten really good at communicating with him, even though he was out of his mind.

The soft spot he had for you was why it worked.

He liked you and in all honesty, you cared about him too. You just wanted him to be as healthy and content as possible for the rest of his stay in this place. He didn’t deserve to be miserable for the rest of his life.

As odd as it may have seemed, you knew what you were doing.

Digger was a flirt and to get what you wanted, you had to be too.

“See? I missed this” he laughed, the sort of deep, throaty chuckle that came from his belly. In his mind, this was little more than the little dance you two had been doing around one another, like dating.

Though, it wasn’t.

You knew it.

If he wasn’t so delusional, he would have seen it too.

It would be a lie to say that you hadn't thought about it, how handsome he was, and how drawn to one another you seemed to be. Perhaps it's another life, you could have been something, if he wasn’t what he was.

A criminal.

Unfortunately for him, three life sentences was hardly where you liked to begin your romantic relationships.

“You know the drill, back against the wall” you suggested, waiting until he complied before unlocking his cell door and letting yourself in.

Usually, you had these sessions in your office, but not while he was in solitary.

For those special cases, you had to make house calls.

Digger did as you asked, not even bothering to move until he heard the cell door close behind you, consequently locking you in with him. By all accounts, it was a terrible idea, but you weren’t worried.

You both knew you weren't in any real danger here.

Not only were you confident that Digger wouldn’t lay a hand on you anyway, but if he did, they would put him down before he even made it out of this wing.

The only way he got what he wanted was if he went through you, the right way.

“Hands” you hummed, holding up a single handcuff on the edge of the bed which you used to secure the man to his place once he complied, his hand only gingerly grazing your wrist before it locked.

Of course, the action and the cuffs earned a childish joke from the male, which you decided to ignore in favor of the actual reason for your visit.

After all, you weren’t here to get hit on, you were here to do your job.

“The guards told me that you aren’t eating? What’s going on?” you asked, using your therapy voice without even meaning to, sitting down on the chair opposite him.

You couldn’t imagine Digger ever being the kind to skip a meal, and when you heard that he wasn’t accepting his dinner, you got a little worried.

It wasn’t like him and even if no one else in this place cared about what happened to him, you weren’t interested in letting him starve to death.

One thing was for sure, whatever it was he thought he was doing, he couldn’t keep it up forever.

It would be much better if he’d just let you help him get whatever issue resolved so that he could go back to how it was before Amanda Waller decided to use him as some kind of social experiment.

However, if attention was what he was looking for, he’d gotten it. You wouldn’t be here if he didn’t do what he did, that was for sure.

“Don’t feel like it” he shrugged, not even bothering to hide his displeasure at having moved on to business already.

After all this time, this was what you wanted to talk about?

You hadn’t seen him in weeks.

“I don’t think that’s it” you interjected, sure that there was more to it than this. Digger may have been a little out there, but he definitely wasn’t the kind of person to pull something like that because he didn’t feel like it.

It wasn’t in his nature.

“What is it then, sweetface?” he asked, leaning forward just enough to prop his elbows on his knees, looking at you with that look on his face that he always wore when he looked at you. He really was having a great time with this.

...and of course he was, in coming here, you had given him just what he wanted.

“ Personally, I think you’re pouting cause you’re back in here” you allowed, leaning up against the wall with a smirk of your own playing on your lips.

This wasn’t your first day on the job, and it certainly wasn’t your first day dealing with Digger.

He didn’t do anything for nothing and while the rest of the guards and authorities in this place might have seen him as nothing more than an erratic nutcase, you knew the truth.

Digger was clever, and knew exactly what he was doing.

Plus, you had a pretty good idea of what he was after when you came in here, and nothing he said or did was going to surprise you. Still, you knowing the truth didn’t do anything if he couldn’t come to terms with it himself.

It wasn’t like you could just let him out of here, so he’d have to compromise on some things.

“Look around sweetness, can you blame me?” he countered, gesturing gingerly to the concrete walls of his cell, which were hardly homey.

The warmest it had been in all the time he’d been here was right now, with you here.

Normally, it was bleak and miserable.

“I told her I wasn’t gonna do it unless they let me out. I feel like a caged animal” he sighed, striking you with the raw emotion there, which was the first thing you’d ever heard from him that you fully believed.

There was normally a confident delusion in his voice, sure that he was right and everyone else was wrong, but you stopped when he said that.

There was a vulnerable quality to it, something you hadn’t been expecting.

In his mind, it was the truth.

In agreeing to what Waller and the rest of the suits had told him, Digger thought he was buying his freedom. As diluted as it was, you could only imagine how hard it was to be locked back up.

“I understand that, but you have to know starving isn’t going to get them to let you out” you tried, sure that he was thinking if he made himself sick enough, they would have no choice but to let him be free.

Little did he know, they would sooner let him waste away in here than do that.

He sighed, considering that for a second before he chuckled again.

It was kind of impressive how well you knew him, and you didn’t even need a degree to do so.

“No, but I got to see you, so it got me something” he grinned, turning on the charm again just as quickly as he’d shut it off. That was one thing that was as easy as breathing for him, which you should have seen coming.

Digger was easy to read, if you were paying attention.

Though, it wasn't until now that you realized what this was really about. It was never about getting out at all, this was about you.

That was why he’d started acting out so much more, and why he asked for you specifically.

In fact, now that you realized it, it was hard to ignore the glaring truth about this whole thing. Perhaps you didn’t know him as well as you thought.

“I was only going to be gone for a month, then I’d be back for our weekly sessions” you reminded, an almost accusatory edge to your words. It had been a few weeks, and after a few more, you’d be back.

Was that really too long for him to wait?

Evidently it was.

“You figured me out, huh?” he shrugged, finding it a little hard not to be proud of himself. It worked, after all, because you were here, just the two of you for however long you stayed.

It was like heaven considering how he’d been living lately.

As it would turn out, getting to see you was the only other thing he could think about, other than getting out all this time.

He really did miss you since you’d left, out of the blue, adn the longer you were gone, the worse it got.

By this point, he was starting to worry that you were never coming back at all, which was why it was so bad.

It was too much for him to handle.

“Did you ever consider that being less of a pain in the ass would get you what you want?” You questioned, hoping that would somehow shake something loose in his head. Though you knew that you wouldn’t be so lucky.

Digger was who Digger was and nothing was going to stop him in his ways now, especially when it kept working for him.

“If I did that, you’d stop coming to see me” he grinned, a wink following shortly after.

He was being cocky again, just as he always was, but deep down, he was sort of nervous you wouldn’t come back. For some reason, there was something about this visit that felt different than all the others.

Like something had changed.

“You’re going to have to eat. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll come back to say goodbye before the end of the day” you hummed, matching his earlier action and winking before turning away.

It was all you could do for now, but you knew that this wasn’t the last time you’d be in here.

If Digger got his way, you’d be back in your office by the end of the week.  

[certifiedteaenthusiast]

Vicious V.E.Schwab review

Rating 5 stars  

Vicious  

V.E.Schwab  

This book was centred around the idea of death and life, good and bad, light and dark a hero and a villain. V.E.Schwab took these concepts and created a universe that gave man the chance to become almost godlike and the consequences that follow. She delves into the concept of religion being used as a defence for committing crimes e.g., murder against others (this is regarding Eli). V.E.Schwab gave us two main characters Victor and Eli who were neither good or evil allowing us to see both of their sides and understand both to an extent. In an overall summary the book was about two guys who had different ideas on the same concept and separate ways to carry out said idea. The idea of gaining superhuman powers and what that could mean for the world. This led them to both do horrendous things for the sake of their goal for Victor it was revenge for Eli it was the cleansing of the world of the so called ‘monsters’ that walked amongst them.

Partially three features that stuck out to me from this book was 1) the usage of the hero or villain archetype, 2) The reasonings for Elis continuous murders and 3) Victor's drive for revenge and destruction of Eli.

Regarding the first one I personally find it interesting to see how people depict heroes and villains because it gives us an insight into people's personal views and beliefs. In Vicious you could say before they killed themselves and gained power that neither of them was the villain Eli was simply a ‘better person’ if we look at him through the lens of the people surrounding him – this is ignoring Victor as he saw that there was another side to Eli. Then Victor would be the ‘worse’ of the two, through a societal viewpoint. However once Eli gained his powers you could say this is when the roles shifted and we saw Victor become envious and spiteful of Eli, so eager to match Eli to be special like he was. Then you could label him as becoming the villain especially when he finally got what he wanted. He died and came back to life but the cost was Angie's life. Making him a murderer (given it was an accident so it would be classed as involuntary manslaughter. I am unsure if there would be a difference in America). After this when he went to Eli for help or some sort of guidance and he betrayed Victor you could say that this established Victor as the villain in Elis eyes, as Angie was someone who made him feel whole and Victor took that away from him. So, when Victor ended up in a cell this marked his deep-rooted hatred for Eli emerging and his thirst for revenge. As we continue through when Eli and Victor are face to face and Victor tries to kill Eli even though it is not possible due to Elis's healing powers. Victor just wants to cause Eli pain as his power is intensifying or numbing the effects of pain. We can see the joy he feels and during this part some may class him as the villain but Elis words calling him a monster and that his existence is going against to God, that he has the devil in him makes us wonder if Victor really is the Villain. Moving forward Eli shoots Victor three times and leaves him there to die. Which is a messed-up thing to do but we move from that. Victor goes to prison he ends up in solitary confinement for 4 years and then is integrated into the prison for six years he breaks out with Mitch and is now free. We now get to see (and in my opinion where the overarching idea of the ‘villain and hero’ is established to an extent as in reality neither of them was completely good or bad). Elis killing EOs and doing it in the name of God. Which is a direct contradiction against the second, fourth, slightly the seventh and eight commandments:  

2. You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain.  

4. You shall not kill.

7. You shall not steal.

8. You shall not bear false witness against your neighbour.

So, what exactly is forbidden by the third commandment? The word vain (as it’s rendered in the ESV) can mean “empty,” “nothing,” “worthless,” or “to no good purpose.” We are forbidden, therefore, from taking the name of God (or taking up the name or bearing the name, as the phrase could be translated) in a manner that is wicked, worthless, or for wrong purposes.  

The text above describes what the second commandment could be interpreted as. Also, regarding the second one he steals people's identities. Additionally, he lied about what happened to Victor and what happened to his professor. Hes a consistent liar. So, in the eyes of the God, he follows he would be committing multiple sins and deemed as a villain. He continues to be seen as a villain by me. Victor is helpful to toes around him to an extent it is not his main goal so you cannot say he has completely pure intentions by committing revenge on Eli he helps all Eos to not be killed by Eli. So, in some regards Eli is the hero.

The reasoning for Elis murders is because he is doing in the name of God. He believes that all EOs are going against gods will and that makes them dangerous regarding himself as the only good one and Serina is just there because he cannot get rid of her. I find his perception on religion to be extremely interesting and confusing due to what he is doing is going against some of the fundamental laws of God. I will not delve too deep into the area of religion seeming as Christianity (the religion I think he follows) has many denominations but as a Christian I find it amusing to see him try and defend his actions by using the shield of religion.

In a whole I just find it interesting to know why people want revenge that intense need to see them fall and for Victor it was captivating as I related to his feelings albeit a bit concerning but we continue. Seeing the similarities in what he thought and did (excluding murder) to what I would have done was simply fascinating and I quite enjoyed it to be fair. Also, I enjoy seeing what revenge can make a person do and how far they would go to see the demise of someone that wronged them.

In general, I recommend the book due to its complexity of the themes demonstrated which I could talk for hours on, the quality of the writing that enabled me to read it in two and a half days. It is an enjoyable book and I recommend it.  

It may not interest people who have difficulty understanding the ideas presented or the usage of violence just a slight warning for the contents of it. However, do not let that put you off entirely the violence is not just there for the sake of it has a meaning and a purpose so give it a go.  

[sigmaleph]

@serinemolecule asked me for hot takes on this 2006 article on Argentinian food, which I am now reorganising into a proper post for y'all's consumption. you're welcome.

First of all: the titular thesis that you should eat two steaks a day. I am forced to clarify that as 'should's go you should eat zero steaks a day, but this is ethical rather dietary advice and I don't follow it as well as I should, so, y'know. I would engage with this on the level it was stated, but I actually have no opinion on it. Moving on...

Argentine beef really is extraordinary. Almost all of this has to do with how the cows are raised. There are no factory feedlots in Argentina; the animals still eat pampas grass their whole lives, in open pasture, and not the chicken droppings and feathers mixed with corn that pass for animal feed in the United States.

This is, as it happens, completely false. There absolutely is plenty of feedlot beef being eaten in Argentina, and this was also the case back when this article was written. There's grass-fed beef too, and maybe the writer structured their life around only eating those, but the claim that there are no feedlots is just not true.

if you let them make the call, you get a two-inch thick of meat[...]The Argentine steak stands alone, towering three inches over the plate,[...]This gorgeous specimen is called a lomito; it's a standard lunchtime steak, clearly so thin that the Argentines are embarrassed to send it out into the world without a protective wrapping of ham and cheese

I have no idea what their obsession with steak thickness is; meat exists at various levels of thick and thin to suit various tastes. If you like yours thick that's fine but quit the projecting, y'know.

As you might expect, vegetarians will have a somewhat rough time here. For most people in Argentina, a vegetarian is something you eat. One's diet will accordingly lean heavily on pastas, gnocchi, salads, and (for the less squeamish ) fish. Vegans will not survive in Argentina.

This is, unfortunately, true (well, hyperbole, but). Rinna had a rather bad time trying to find vegan food when fae came over for visits. The situation is improving slowly, at least.

The homemade cookies bought in the minimarket downstairs taste of steak. [picture of alfajores de maicena[

Jesus. Find somewhere better to buy your snacks.

It should be no surprise that the land of beef also has excellent milk and butter. The milk comes in plastic bags that would give any American marketing department a heart attack. They proudly advertise "GUARANTEED 100% BRUCELLOSIS AND HOOF-AND-MOUTH FREE". One brand even brags that its bacteria count never exceeds 100,000 per mL, and prints daily statistics to prove it (only 82,000 bacteria/mL on Monday! mmm!).

Are you under the impression American milk doesn't contain bacteria and that when it spoils it's because of the molecules' sheer willpower? Or do you just object to the reminder that they exist?

This menu is delicious, but with rare exceptions it is all you are going to get. People coming for more than a few weeks are advised to bring a discreet bottle of Tabasco sauce.

Eat at better restaurants.

With any order from the master menu comes the Bread Basket, which should be treated as you would treat a basket of wax fruit, that is, as a purely decorative ornament. It is considered bad form to actually eat anything from Bread Basket

What are you talking about. Do all your dining companions just suck, eat some bread.

Dulce de leche is a culinary cry for help. It says "save us, we are baffled and alone in the kitchen, we don't know what to do for dessert and we're going to boil condensed milk and sugar together until help arrives". This cloying dessert tar is so impossibly sweet that you wish you were ten years old again, just so you could actually enjoy it. It is everywhere. There is a special dulce de leche shelf in the supermarket dairy case, and the containers go up to a liter in size. Even the churros are stuffed with it - the churros, Montresor!

It is rare that I feel insulted for the sake of my country, but this? How dare you.

Yes, of course we fill churros with dulce de leche; the real question is why anyone doesn't, short of dietary restrictions. Finding out that people do otherwise was like learning that in other countries, "sandwich" just means two slices of bread. Live a little. Eat a real godsdamned churro.

I spent a considerable amount of time trying to figure out how meals work in Argentina, and they remain a mystery to me. Dinner is clear enough: people tend to go to restaurants beginning at ten o'clock (for those with small children), with the main rush around eleven, and dinner is pretty much over at one or so in the morning. And breakfast - or rather, its absence - follows as a logical consequence of eating a steak the size of a beagle at midnight. But I have yet to figure out whether people eat some kind of meal in the afternoon, and if so, when.

At... noon? Like. We eat lunch. Usually somewhere around 12:00. I am eating lunch right now, and I have done so essentially every day of my life. This is just baffling.

I've come to think the culprit in the missing Argentine lunch scene is yerba mate.

how.

Where the ignorant foreigner may see just another kind of herbal tea (yerba mate is a very unassuming shrub that grows in the northern parts of the country) the Argentine sees a taste treat of unimaginable subtlety, and a tonic for all his problems. The Wikipedia article on proper mate preparation should give you a warning of the level of obsessiveness attainable here (the Urugayans are even worse). To the virgin palate, mate tastes like green tea mixed with grass clippings. The beverage is traditionally drunk out of a little gourd, through a metal straw called a bombilla, with hot (but not boiling!!) water poured into it (without wetting the surface!! clockwise!!) from a thermos.

Yeah, this is accurate. Well, not the clockwise part, never heard anyone complain about that and I can't imagine it mattering.

What distinguishes mate from coffee and tea is the social context - two or more people share a gourd, with a designated pourer in charge of refilling it with hot water after each turn. The ritual is low-fuss but indispensible. You can buy mate gourds and thermoses in any grocery store, and get your thermos filled with hot water at any convenience store or gas station, but you will never see mate served in restaurants or sold in little disposable paper gourds, to go. it's not that people refuse to drink mate alone - anyone working a solitary shift will have a gourd in hand - but that the concept of being served mate by someone who does not share it with you seems impossible.

This is also true. Attempts have been made to sell to-go mate but it's never very popular, the social ritual is important. Also unfortunately a disease vector, I haven't had any mate in a year and a half.

Mate aficionados will tell you that mate contains a special compound, mateine, that serves as a tonic and mild stimulant, promoting alertness without making it hard to sleep, reducing fatigue and appetite, helping the digestion and serving as a mild diuretic. Scientists will tell you that mateine bears a suspicious resemblance to a chemical called caffeine. Mate aficionados will then grow indignant, explaining that mateine is really a stereoisomer (mirror image) of caffeine, with different effects, which will in turn irritate the scientists, who will snap that caffeine doesn't have a chiral center, so it can't have a distinguishable mirror image, and why don't the mate aficionados just put a sock in it.

The first part of this is true; some people definitely think "mateine" is different from caffeine and it absolutely isn't. Never heard the stereoisomer claim before but googling it does confirm some people say so.

still have no idea what any of this has to do with lunch, though. I promise you nobody skips lunch because mate is just too filling.

The wine here is very good (something has to stand up to that steak), but Argentina has no liquor to call its own, relying on whiskies like Old Smuggler and the low-maintenance Don Juan cognac to carry the flag.

There's a fundamental omission from this list and it's called fernet.

Beer is ubiquitous and comes in a bewildering variety of sizes, although there is a skittishness about the full-on liter. Things level off at 970 mL. In my case, it means I end up drinking 1940 mL of beer as a kind of personal protest, and all is well with the world. To make up for the abundance of sizes, beer comes in only one variety, Quilmes, which inevitably comes served with a tripartite platter of snacks - nuts, salty cylinders, and aged potato chips.

I never had trouble buying beer by the litre, but I confess I never tried to do so in 2006 on account of being under 18 at the time.

Anyway, beer comes in a lot more varieties today, thankfully, because Quilmes sucks. I'll never be a beer person, but at least these days there's options I tolerate.

[original post]

[mondayrobot]

120-Day Fanfiction List (G)

A collection of my recommended Eren/Mikasa fanfictions for the first one-hundred and twenty days of the year.

Rating: General Audiences

a gilded world by infinitesimalll

The world was cruel. It was cold. Nearly everyday those words flowed through her mind, often accompanied by traumatic experiences.

All The Things Between You and Me by iRememberTheDark @irememberthedark

In most situations, Mikasa takes what she can get, especially where Eren, her...her...whatever he was to her, was concerned, and she was more than willing to let that pattern continue. Too bad life was so adept at kicking her out of her comfort zone.

"What am I to you?"

Mikasa asks a simple question and the world tilts.

Bad Idea by fevversinherhair

Like all bad ideas that passed between them, pretending to be dating at his brother's wedding was 100% Eren's.

Call out my name by Gcf_khaleesi

Ever since he brought her back into paths he knew that this would be the last time, he knew that he wasn't getting out of this what he was doing out there alive and she knew it as well.

canvas by orphan_account

there’s a familiarity in that question, the same one that comes along with the unspeakable way she smiles.

Cruel Decisions by solsun

The public now knows the truth of the outside world and who they are. The impending threat. No matter what, they must survive. Eren struggles with the colossal responsibility he believes he bears, the weight of an entire nation in his hands. He searches for a way to ground himself while keeping his principles intact.

demands by infinitesimalll

In all honesty, Eren hadn't expected Mikasa to take his offer after they had faced the titan who killed his mother and Hannes. It was something he said in the heat of the moment, when he was determined to survive.

for you, 2000 years later by aenar_thedragonlady

life seemed normal, as it always was but she wasn't aware of something, or rather, someone, who's been waiting for 2000 years.

fuel to my fire by aenar_thedragonlady

Being the princess of a powerful kingdom and with a legendary bloodline, Mikasa came to terms with how she was born and raised a conqueror in her father, family and kingdom's name. But when her conquest led her to Eren, a solitary king hidden in his domain far north in the mountains, she knew things could never go back to how they were.

Will she extinguish all the fires she never knew she had?

Or will she add more fuel to the flames?

ghost out of his grave by simplyhumann

At first glance, one might even think this is his glimpse of heaven. To come home to her in death, like how he always wanted to when he was alive.

It was anything but that. This was his punishment, Eren knew. To have a front row seat to the way he ruined the woman he once loved— no— still loves— and all the consequences that came after it.

hallucinating by enchantingoats

Mikasa knew it was undoubtedly her drug-addled subconscious longing for a second reunion with better odds.

Still, she wanted to touch him.

home by infinitesimalll

"in this world, i've got a place to go home to."

I’ll Take Care of You by Queenzie

When Mikasa falls sick, Eren decides that for once he needs to look after her.

Long Dream by wallmaria

“What am I to you?” Eren had suddenly said. Mikasa was again taken aback by his question. She looked at Eren’s face, there were no hints of shame when he said it, when he’s practically asking her to bare herself before him… She felt her heart pound loudly in her chest… She felt embarrassed to say the truth, but Eren also seemed to look distraught and expectant as Mikasa stammered.

not so strong after all by infinitesimalll

After a patrol in the freezing cold rain, humanity's second strongest has come down with the common cold.

Now and Forever by connectedfeelings @connectedfeelings

Waking up from a strange dream, Mikasa experiences odd visions throughout the day, all of a man and of a red scarf. Everyone leaves her with a strong sense of melancholy. Who is he? And why has he been in her mind all day? Perhaps she could ask him. Because his scarf just landed on her face, and she can't help but feel like the universe is telling her something.

New Year by Ilucida

The New Year celebration in Hizuru style was different.

remember a day we dreamt by Violea

Let's live the rest of our lives peacefully. Just the two of us.

return to me, the you of 2000 years ago by rilakkuma5 @uhhstar

Eternal return is a concept that the universe and all existence and energy has been recurring, and will continue to recur, in a self-similar form an infinite number of times across infinite time or space.

Simpler Times by wamomo

Three moments in which Eren doesn't regret leaving and one in which he does.

some place to be at peace by bacondestiny

He remembers the feeling of his head exploding off his body and the earth quaking before him under the weight of millions of titans on the march, remembers the awful ruin and the craters and the puddles and the charred remains as he crawled after them on hundreds of ribs--but all of that is so far away. It’s so far away that he’ll never see it again. All he can see is Mikasa, smiling up at him.

It doesn’t matter what’s flowing through his veins or lurking in his bones or rattling around in his head. What matters is what he has in his arms.

sparkling green by maketea @rosekasa

mikasa wakes up to find eren has done all the work for her.

The hellfire called love by septembersnotes

I hold us together, our lives, our pitiful youth, our days under the sun- shard by shard.

The Red String of Fate by hunnyB

Alone and defeated, Eren sighs and sinks back on the bench, eyes flickering up on Mikasa's seemingly frail frame as she sleeps soundlessly beneath the white bedsheets. He stares at the peacefulness transpiring through her face, glossed lips parted gently, raven hair splayed across the pillow, and thin long eyelashes casting shadows over her cheeks, giving off an extremely pleasant sight to lie eyes upon.

A sight that Eren has always had nearby but never sought, never once stopped to admire.

they are the prey by bacondestiny @inbothourhandsgloria

Eren does not want to be here.

It is sunny and warm and the birds are singing, today is the kind of day that should be spent running through the streets and splashing in the creek. He could be helping Mama with errands or Daddy with mixing medicines or Zeke with the goats. But no. Now he has to stand in this stupid line with Zeke so he can go to school. It’s terrible.

Through the Night by Diphy_D

It’s through the night when Eren’s mind doesn’t stop thinking while his hands don’t stop tracing the profile of the sleeping woman who rests at his side. The boy loses his faith and sinks alone.

And it’s through the night too when Mikasa's sweet touch calms his demons.

“We'll be free. The two of us, just wait”.

To You, 2000 Years From Now. by fetching

“You were dreaming again. What was it about?” He asks, smiling at her.

It takes a great effort not to cry.

This is it. This is home.

“Home,” She breathes. “I was dreaming about coming home.”

to you, at world’s end, a promise by AdelineVW7

She has never been one to sleep deeply, so Eren moves with deliberate gentleness. With only the tips of his fingers he caresses the dark hair splayed upon the pillow, all the while watching the rhythm of her breathing, the flitting movement of a dream beneath her eyelids.

viva la vida by zeninclan

"Mikasa, what am I to you?"

She looked down at him as the crowd watched them, standing face to face.

A soft blush spread across her skin as she stared back at him for a moment, wind pushing through their hair as they stood in silence. They had been friends since childhood. He knew everything about her, and she did the same for him.

"Family," was the answer she landed on. She cursed herself that night for not answering him honestly.

Since then, something had changed in Eren.

Warmth by ApplePapelProductions

His body, against yours. So close, so safe, the bite of the cold, the closeness of death, did not matter. Even in this fleeting moment, only to last a second, it meant more than the entire world. More than the remainders of humanity. More than the world beyond the walls. More than you could have ever imagined, no matter how many times you prayed for it to happen.

It would end soon. Maybe one day, he could tell you that he loved you, too. But until then, this was enough.

when you move I move with you by SapphireOcean

An unrequited crush comes back into Eren's life in an unusual way.

would have married you by enchantingoats

But truly it was beyond that. She was precious to him above all else, and though it was hard to put his finger on the feeling, this attachment, it had to be what they called love.

You can also check out: 2020 Eremika Fanfiction Masterlist