#Exodus Down spoilers

[moineauz]

helooo, 1 ticket for Exodus, starring Boothill & gn Reader as main leads

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ THE HOUSE OF MUSICA PRESENTS... 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 ノ𝐄𝐗𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐒 — boothill !

synopsis: a gradually rekindling bond between two ill-fated souls. in other words, you encounter a partner you never thought you'd see again.

side comments: not me writing more boothill... also this was partly inspired by the song too sweet by hoizer.

extra: boothill calls reader 'doll', uses the word pretty for the reader, mentions of alcohol, boothill and reader have their issues ig, gn reader, boothill backstory spoilers, fluff and angst word count: 1, 385

Being part of the IPC was like a ticket to an expressway: smooth sailing amongst galaxies and stars. You could have slipped your wrist in the rings of planets; allowing them to adorn your human flesh in glitter and gold.

"I reckoned the IPC would send one em' tonight," insinuated the man beside you, his voice husky and gruff, "Didn't think you'd fancy your whisky neat."

You share a winsome smile, still gazing ahead, lifting the glass to your lips unfazed, "Who said I couldn't have my whisky neat?"

The man scoffs before chuckling lowly, "Well, I thought the IPC are a little..." he leans forward, his cool breath brushing against the shell of your ear, "Soft, don't you think doll?"

The bar is thronged that evening. Chatter warms the walls while candlelight swishes above in scintillating opulence. One chime after another, click and sway, swish and pull. Your ears heed the bar lines of inordinate movements like a song. Even the subtle whirl of the man's arms and the click of his heel is oddly pleasant.

"And I thought galaxy rangers keep to themselves," you languidly turn your head to meet his face; fixing your eyes on his like the head of an arrow kissing its bullseye. "A shame I have to endure your presence. Considering you're a ranger, you're awfully loud," you riposted.

"Ha! You don't know what you're missin' doll," the man teases, yet, there is an edge to it, "Do all IPC members talk like that? All bark and no bite?"

"I'd like to say bite and no bark," you reckon smoothly, like velvet curtains draping over the walls. "Why waste your breath when all you need is a single shot?"

A splitting grin grows on his face while he shakes his head charmed, "Now you're talkin' my language doll! One bullet does make a heck of a difference."

You bite the insides of your cheek, your jaw tight before him, "Spare me the small talk Boothill," you retorted placidly: a facade of indifference casting a shadow over your face. "You know I don't fancy playing cat and mouse in your boots."

"Oh you never change," he chides, placing his left shoulder on the bar's smooth counter. Boothill's face rested in his metal palms as his shiny eyes settled on you. "That's your only fault."

The corner of your lips quiver slightly, he doesn't notice. "Even metal carries its dents," you pause, your words suspending in the air's murky atmosphere, "And it seems you carry that burden quite well."

Boothill stills as you call for another fill. Whisky trickles into your glass; swishing in hues of sweet amber. It soothes the bitter lump in your throat as it gushes down sip after sip like the ocean current churning away.

Silence draws you closer; knitting you together. You heave a sigh, gingerly placing the glass on the counter, not a sound echoing above. "You always drank your whisky neat," you remarked bitterly, "And you always got drunk afterwards."

Boothill's smiles echo some ineffable tenderness and it caresses your cheek despite its distance. "Ha! Don't make me all sappy over here doll, might have to bring her out if you keep this up." Despite his words, Boothill's voice is strangely hushed: hollow like the crevices of a skeleton. Or a body that doesn't quite fit its soul.

You smile, pushing the bounds of his words with your voice, "Then bring her out Boothill. It's been some time since I last saw your precious gun. A shame you hold her so much closer."

"As sharp as ever," Boothill conceded; twirling the gun like a toy. Its varnish slick like butter as it glistened under candlelight. "Seems I have to up my ante."

In one swift movement, Boothill instinctively slips his nippy hands around your waist: his belt of bullets pressed against your hips with benign familiarity. His other hand intertwines with yours, like the lacing of a corset- tight and tender. Boothill lifts your arm, raising it with frivolous flare accompanied by a wicked grin. Your shoes click against the bar's smooth surface and Boothill leans forward. The shadows of his bright face made known to you anew. Now, the two of you stand, one breath apart.

"Seems like old habits die hard," he mutters, his eyes following the curve of your lips and the pools of your eyes, "Can't help it when you keep sittin' here all pretty. Sippin' whisky for fudger's sake..."

You raise your eyebrow tentatively before an unabashed smile stretches across your face and you giggle. Your laugh slips through the air like a fine mist and Boothills breathes it in. The cogs of his chest whirl a touch faster as you sparkle in all your quiet limelight: tucked away in a corner bar, it beats boldly one step at a time

"Looks like the IPC employee can laugh," Boothill teases, the jazz band kicking off its rhymes with the beckoning call of the trumpet.

"Is that all you think of me?" you surmised, a mirthful expression pressed against your skin, "I expected better from you," you teased.

"Shallow?" Boothill muses, the band's drummer now pushing the song as you and Boothill shuffle to the center of the bar, feet moving as one, "I'm all but shallow; especially when I'm dancing."

You press your hand on his metal shoulder, the spark in your eyes dimming slightly, "Then show me."

Being part of the IPC was like a ticket past the waiting rooms and into the hospital bed: refuge under the captive's wings. You could have laid your heart there to rest; allowing yourself to be part of a grand tapestry, one of them.

"Looks like you still have it in you after all this time," remarks Boothill as his fingers find their way to your waist, "One more song?"

"I've had enough," you state, yet, the roused smile on your face still beams, "It's late."

Boothil clicks his tongue. "Come on... just like the old times, wouldn't hurt for another spin," surmised Boothill, his voice oddly mellow with a trace of dejection.

"You don't want to dance," you rebutted, "You want to talk."

You slip your hand off his metal body, its coolness lingering on your fingertips like a ghost. Boothill blinks, his hands now fallen by his sides, the grin on his face tight as he shakes his head.

"I'd reckon you'd... catch on. You always had bigger fish to fry."

"You know I hate fish."

Boothill chuckles. However, it's mellow and lush. Reminiscent of the open plains the three of you once wandered. Sweetgrass brushing against your legs in rhythm with the breeze. The cusp of the morning sun nestled in the palms of your hands like a nest. In the evenings you lingered amongst free horses; braiding through the stars and their lush mane while weaving through riverbeds, singing sweet dreams.

"I miss the kid too."

Boothill smiles, "I know."

"Then keep your promise," you amble towards him, your shoulders in parallel as you promptly seize his hat, swiftly placing it on your head. "If you want your hat back," you jested, "Meet me at the bar when you're done catching your 'Acheron.'"

Boothill smirks, placing his hands on his hips, languidly leaning to the side, "And why would I do that? I've got plenty of hats."

You scoff, "Is that so? Then I guess I don't owe you my answer."

Boothill pauses abruptly, his eyes wide, "You-"

"I still have the ring," you interject, a subtle quiver emerging from the back of your voice, "But I never gave you my answer."

"Doll I-"

"You vanished before I could give you my answer."

Boothill grows quiet and you sigh. Neverthless, you slip your business card into his pockets and press a curt kiss on his cheek, his hat still on your head, "So keep your promise, Boothill."

Boothill nods; heaving a prompt sigh before gazing up at the ceiling, a spark flickering within the corners of his eyes, "I won't let you down."

"Good," you surmise, gradually ambling away, his back still turned from you and vice versa, "I won't let you down."

Boothill grins quietly, muttering to himself as the aroma of whisky clings onto his metal body, "You never did, not once doll. Not once."

masterlist.

[zeephyre]

CRITICAL ROLE CAMPAIGN 3 EPISODE 86 SPOILERS

RAHHH, SPOOKY LAKE MINI ARC!!!!!!

God. I fucking love you Matthew Mercer.

The back door is indeed a back door and while that is exciting, I honestly need us to table all theories.

First of all, Matt really did his big one with this campaign and all of the spooky horror elements that are scattered all over. The nightmare king, Laudna, Jrusar tbh, Uthodurn and the Savaliir woods, the creepy ass monsters and gjosts we keep running into, the GHOST PIRATES, the fucking shattered teeth as a whole, RUIDUS, and now this fuck ass lake.

The way Matt slowly built up the suspense and the intrigue of this odd abandoned town that started as just curiosity and location discovery to help us understand where in Exandria they were, and then slowly became an investigation into how...empty it was despite no signs of struggle or even a mass exodus to somewhere safe... and then the notes about the disappearances... how people were rumored to have just...walked into the water.

GOD IT WAS SO GOOD.

The way my heart dropped out of my ass when Liam used the stone to talk to Dorian (I don't wanna discuss that "I miss you" that definitely felt like an "I love you", I'm so upset rn Robbie please come home). I knew the stone wikldnt work because he'd already talked to Caleb (which !!!!! CALEB!!!!!!! AHHHH) but then Matt was like "you hear something outside, it's Dorian" and I just???? Almost shat myself when I understood what was happening.

It is...interesting that whatever is in that lake only affected FCG, Orym, Chettie and Ashton.... it can't just be that they weren't women because... that doesn't really make any sense so it must be something magic related? Because they were making charisma saves and the witches have either max charisma or amazing fucking charisma. (But so does FCG? I think? Whatever).

I loved everything about that battle and the lake but I especially loved Laudna's whole deal... Dread Pirate Queen Laudna fan art needs to flood my social media feed so much that I get sick of it (I wont). She's such a silly little guy I love her to bits. (We won't discuss she who must not be named except to say... she was kinda spitting during that whole later interaction)

FINALLY THESE DUMB FUCKS SLEPT BUT GOD. I WAS CONVINCED MATT WANTED THEM DEAD FR.

ANYWAY. JESTER. JESTER LAVORRE. JESTER HAS SENDING. SHE TALKED TO US. SHE TALKED TO IMOGEN. THEY’RE EITHER ON THEIR WAY TO THE KEY OR TO THE LAKE AND EITHER WAY I KNOW WE'RE GONNA SEE THE NEIN AGAIN IDC IDC

Kinda almost broke down in tears when Jester spoke to Imogen because I just??? love Laura Bailey so much??? AND WHENEVER THE OTHER PCS SHOW UP I JUST GET SO HAPPY

I know Jester is being a terrorist with sending rn, and I know she's gonna message Imogen constantly.

Did not want them to leave that lake until Kiki's group showed up the next morning but my hellians never listen to me so cest la vie.

(Also????? Fearne and Chetney romantic tension??? Let's discuss. Let's also discuss how bad Fearne wants to kiss Imogen)

[briarfox13]

So after 80+ hours I've finally finished Dragon Age: The Veilguard! And boy do I have some thoughts (it's going to be a long post, sorry)

SPOILERS AHEAD

Firstly what an incredible journey from start to finish, I laughed, rejoiced and cried along the way. I loved it so much! The main story was engaging, and some of the side quests are the best Bioware has ever made.

However, I do have some criticisms with the writing and some lore. The beginning feels rushed, I wish we had more time before shit hit the fan. The faction backgrounds sound awesome and I wish we'd played those as a prologue and met Varric through those rather that tiny scene we got.

And I do wish the game was darker in some aspects. It felt weird that as an Elf I could just wander around Minrathous without a single problem, even the Venatori didn't comment on my race? Which felt off. Never thought I'd say this, but I miss the dark political plot points that the other games had (Looking at DA II here).

Expect The Blight, that was incredible, disgusting was just what I wanted to see.

I also don't like the concept of Ancient Elvhen magic being like advanced tech? I'm not fond of that. I play DA for the fantasy not the sci-fi. But that's a minor nit-pick.

But damn, Act 3? That was an explosive, incredible set of quests, and those twists broke my heart 😭 IYKYK

Honestly though, it's hands down one of the prettiest game I've played since probably Metro Exodus.

The environments, the lights and atmosphere is top notch; I know it wont happen but I'd kill for an Origins remaster with this engine (and combat system). The combat is my favourite so far.

Music is pretty but kind of unremarkable, Trevor Morris' Inquisition music was a 100% times better and more memorable, they should have stuck with him.

No offence to Mr. Zimmer but all his music sounds the same to me 🙈

The Grey Wardens, my babies are back ❤️ They've been my favourite faction in gaming since Origins and I'm so happy to finally play another Warden.

The reactivity was just amazing, I felt so connected to the plot by playing as one, especially with the Blight plotlines. Declaring for the Wardens at the end made me cry 😭 In War, Victory!!

And finally some good Grey warden armour!! XD I hated DA II and DAI's armour for them with a passion XD

Emmrich my love 💚

While I think it's too short (please Bioware add more romance content, I'm begging 🥺) I haven't loved a Bioware romance like this since Garrus'. (Sorry Alistair I still love you but, you're now joint second with Emmrich)

His romance was so sweet and charming, it felt so real. And so beautifully written; as someone who finds necromancy and death in religion fascinating but the reality of death terrifying, Emmrich was perfect for me.

I just adore it so much, I'm way too attached to him and my Rook 💚🥹 And obviously Manfred my son

To let you all in on a secret, even before I booted up Origins for the first time (2015) I was originally a Solas girlie (thanks to the internet) and now just under 10 years later I am so happy to have a happy ending to his and Zephyr's story 🥹❤️

I wish they interacted more with each other, and we'd got more about Solas' love for the Inky but ultimately I am happy with what we got. After all it wasn't entirely their story.

But, what I am not happy about is the Inky's personality. I respect it's kind of a soft reboot, but only 3 choices and none of them about how the Inky was like? Zephyr would never in a million years work with Morrigan (even with her Mythal fragment). It just didn't feel quite like my girl (even though I was happy to see her).

I do wish we'd got a couple more choices when making the Inky to make them feel more ours than slightly generic.

So finally, I will say that personally I adore this game, it's not perfect by any mile but I had fun, and that's important to me. It might even be joint top with Origins as my favourite DA game!

I've always been a Mass Effect girlie, but Dragon Age is important to me too. And I'm so happy to finally see a new DA release that has somewhat succeeded.

Now I'm done, do expect Tabitha spam! I'll make sure to tag them with spoilers for those who haven't finished/played!

And to my non DA followers, I'm very sorry about my current hyper-fixation (blame the ADHD) but bear with me! I have some tasty Halo art pieces cooking in the background 👀

[nthflower]

Still simping tho. Pretty man, pretty sorry 😔

He split???

He thinks he is sinister????

Exodi????

[dezertvideogames]

My Metro headcanons and why...

CW: Major Spoilers for All Metro Games

Artyom is terrified of deep water

Despite being able to swim a little bit in 2033 and Last Light, the man is terrified of water in Exodus. He thrashes and latches onto anything around him in a panic.

It seems to be common knowledge to those around him as when his train cart falls into the lake at the forests in Exodus, Alyosha tries to calm him down. Artyom panics anyway though. You can even hear him scream underwater.

He developed this fear after his little boat ride to Venice

Artyom is selectively mute

Despite not talking the majority of regular gameplay, Artyom is an expressive character through is body language and actions. He's not completely silent, especially when it comes to reading his journals out loud, but he remains silent in moments where most wouldn't.

It's obvious that he does talk from people's dialogue interactions with him, but from there we don't get any words in. He also talks during the load up screen cutscenes. It wouldn't be his first disability, and likely won't be his last. He is already hearing impaired in one ear after all.

Pavel is afraid of spiders

Right before Artyom and Pavel cross above ground to the red line's main station, the two are forced to travel through some very infested tunnels. Pavel not only freaks out at each attack in these tunnels, but he also begs Artyom to stay close to him.

Like many characters in the metro Pavel pleads for Artyom to save him at the slightest moment of danger. When the doors are locked due to power being cut off, he doesn't even try to help, sending Artyom further into the spider den. He asks more than nervous the entire level.

We get moral points for staying close to him in the beginning, and moral points to fending off all the spiders on the elevator with just our light. I guess it's a moral thing to help someone get over their fear.

[gainesha]

BSG rewatch notes, cont'd and ended (spoilers, obviously):

it was so nice to watch the whole thing again, once again being reminded why I fell in love with these characters

the second half of Season 4 is much stronger overall as the first one, but the Tigh-Six baby plotline is awful. dumb and ludicrous. gave lots of fantastic acting moments for Hogan and Helfer, at least

Michael Nankin was the GOAT for directing Sometimes a Great Notion

I had loved the piano man story from Someone to Watch Over Me, so I was looking forward to rewatch that, but I completely forgot that the other main plot of the episode is going to be Boomer kidnapping Hera, and jfc, the locker room sequence with Helo and Boomer as Athena and Athena watching them is probably the most horrifying scene of the whole show, genuinely disturbing

I really like the finale. the flashback structure works very well for showing us how far all these characters came, and also crystallizing their story arcs, the stakes of their present-day choices. the last mission is intense and satisfying. the big showdown between Cavil and the Final Five / colonials and the Opera House reveal is a bit bumpy, but I still love the anticlimax of Cavil just saying ah fuck this shit. the ending always made emotional sense for me, and because the emotional farewell was the more important expectation for me (rather than getting a wholly satisfying mythology and precisely worked out plot machinery), and I feel good about the exodus part, too, I can more easily let go of my quibbles of explaining how the people of the fleet actually went along with throwing all their technology into the sun and going into the wild which would realistically mean quite a low life expectancy for them - like, I would not last outside modern civilization at all, but considering the rate with which we have been destroying our planet in the years since the show ended, their choice to have a clean slate is all the more wishful and heartfelt. (also a nice sentiment to forego colonizing the natives of Earth). Kara's "poof" is jarring, but I find her narrative arc complete and wonderful. I don't need to know exactly what she was after she returned from Earth-1. I even didn't mind the epilogue! like, the dancing robots would probably be AI if they remade the show today, but otherwise, the all of this has happened before... message of the show, with all its cheesy directness, still stands. except maybe it's more difficult to share HeadSix's optimistic prognosis

"You know, I know about farming" is the best line reading of the whole show

I wish we got at least one more Leoben-Kara scene after the one in Sometimes a Great Notion. that was a huge turning point in their relationship, but it should have been followed up, and I am sure it would have if not for the unavailability of Callum Keith Rennie. that is the only part of the show that feels incomplete.

I was ranking all the episodes for myself alongside the rewatch, so here's my bottom 5 and my top 10. I still need to rewatch The Plan, which in my memory is barely more than a glorified clipshow with some nice acting, so that could possibly be in the bottom five as well. and yes, that is a 7-parter in the second place, sue me.

Black Market (2x14)

The Woman King (3x14)

Hero (3x08)

Tigh Me Up, Tigh Me Down (1x09)

Deadlock (4x16)

10. The Passage (3x10) 9. Someone to Watch Over Me (4x17) 8. Downloaded (2x18) 7. Pegasus (2x10) 6. The Oath / Blood on the Scales (4x13-14) 5. 33 (1x01) 4. Scar (2x15) 3. Unfinished Business (3x09) - non-extended version 2. New Caprica arc: Lay Your Burdens Down 1-2., Occupation, Precipice, Exodus 1-2., Collaborators (2x19-3x05) 1. Maelstrom (3x17)

[megafaunatic]

fer @vinelark tagged me so here are my

5 no skip albums

HARD MODE: NO MOUNTAIN GOATS (JUST ABOUT EVERY MOUNTAIN GOATS ALBUM IS A NO SKIP ALBUM)

💿 you will not die (deluxe version) (2018) by nakhane. nakhane has such a clear, beautiful voice, and their instrumentation is by turns sparse and lush, bright and unsettling. listen to "by the gullet" with good headphones for a really weird and cool binaural intro with the syncopated marimba (?). also i love really deep sounds so when they hit me with the cello AND the fat bass kick drum AND the natural depth of their voice, i am IN IT!!! also i'm a lyrics guy first and foremost and their lyrics are so interesting and beautiful

💿 transangelic exodus (2018) by ezra furman. WHAT'S NOT TO LOVE? incredibly romantic. trans and gay as hell. fucking full of rage. explicitly jewish trans gay angel (i love those). i love a concept album! her scratchy punk vocals combined with fuzzy electric guitars and intense drums kill every time. every time i listen to this album i hear something new

💿 three futures (2017) by torres. ugh torres's voice. UGH THE MUSIC VIDEO FOR THREE FUTURES BY TORRES!!! what can i say i love a melodic low voice over lofi droning. and synths. god i love synths. this whole album is like a thick gauge compression spring: the instrumentation on many songs works on a rapid beat while the vocals are drawn out and almost strained. and then when they synchronize (like in much of "helen in the woods") the tension is released and you feel it in your gut!

💿 ripely pine (2013) by lady lamb. the violin key changes in the crest of "you are the apple" changed my life. next question! ok but actually half of these songs are 5+ minutes long and every one earns it. it's like every song is a little opera. the transition from fairly standard acoustic love song to [REDACTED FOR SPOILERS] in "crane your neck" is SOOOOOO!!! holy fuck!!! it's so hot when women yell

💿 pony (2019) by orville peck. ok well first of all more musicians should make it so clear that their persona as a musician is a character they're playing and not a 1:1 reflection of who they are in real life. second of all have i mentioned that i love low voices singing beautifully? men are so scared to sing beautifully. it's a wasteland out there. it's like orville peck and fucking. michael bublé holding down the fort. anyway every song on this album is so fucking fun and boppy, i love a steel guitar. really good album for walking to work to (beat of most songs is comparable to walking speed) and singing really loud. thank you orville peck for saving country!

thank you for tuning into lore's music hour! everyone go listen to all 5 albums! you're welcome!

i tag @houtaroo @whatisthiswitchcraft @uhuraisgay @rose-indigo-and-tom AND @sleepnoises

[ghostinthegallery]

"Remember me." 💖

Drabble based on this lovely set of prompts. spoilers for Twice Dead King below, canon-typical 40k violence. Enjoy!

###

Immortality—it transpired—had been yet another lie by their cruel gods. Living metal was powerful, miraculous, but not untouchable. Nothing was. 

A fact Djoseras was painfully aware of as he parried the power sword wielded by the Astartes, a warped and empowered weapon of humanity. His own phaseblade crackled as the sword scraped down the weapon’s edge. He was growing weaker, less and less able to fend off the giant’s attacks. Djoseras had begun this fight damaged, burned from the inside out after channeling the energy of Antikef’s entire defensive array through his core. His silver carapace was charred black, giving him a strange, mottled appearance.

In the end neither of us managed to keep our silver, Oltyx, he mused. 

At the thought of his brother, power surged through Djosera’s flux. That was why he had chosen this doomed last stand. To give Oltyx time to reach the exodus fleet and leave these ancient, cursed stones behind. Leave the old ways behind.

Leave him behind.

Djoseras charged, a wordless cry bursting from his damaged vocal buffer. Dust-choked air swirling around him. The space marine captain paused for a fraction of a second, surprised by Djoseras’ sudden aggression. Their blades connected again in a flash. Djoseras did not believe in flashy swordsmanship. His weapon’s purpose was to kill, not entertain like some gilded court dancer. Every strike was precise, economical, rationing was little power Djoseras had left in his core. 

He managed to sink his phaseblade into the astartes’ pauldron, cutting into the droplet of blood painted there. Djoseras ripped the piece of armor free and flung it into the dust. He thought he had finally created an opening. 

It was his turn to be surprised. The space marine snarled through his helmet and barreled into Djoseras, exposed shoulder colliding with his chest. Djoseras thought he heard something crunch at the impact, but if the unclean warrior felt any pain he did not show it. They both toppled, the space marine’s bulk driving Djoseras into the rubble strewn ground.

Around them, the battle between Djoseras’ Immortals and the other space marines still raged. Djoseras watched one astartes’ head dissolve in a flash of green gauss fire. Heros had fired the shot. Djoseras remembered that he had been nearly as accurate as a deathmark in life. Djoseras’ tiny blade had inscribed hundreds of kills onto the Immortal’s living metal, each a clean shot to the head or heart.

To Djoseras’ left, Seroth fell, ripped to pieces by enemy fire. A natural teacher, who had taken new recruits under his wing. Qeret collapsed next, her leg blasted out from under her. Still she fired, taking down another Astartes before a knife pierced her ribs.

I promised to remember you. Djoseras’ phaseblade blocked the overhead strike from the astartes on top of him. The warrior pressed and the weapons drew closer and closer to Djoseras’ faceplate. I tried. I am sorry to fail you now.

That was when the seed of fear truly took root in his mind. When the unclean died it was not truly the end. It may not be pleasant, but their souls had somewhere to go, something to look forward to or to dread. Djoseras had no soul. There was no existence after this. And as Antikef crumbled around him, he understood that he would have no tomb to serve as a place of remembrance. The only afterlife the necrons could cling to was denied to him. 

The energy sparking from both energy blades burned his necrodermis. His motor actuators stuttered. Something in his shoulder joint was starting to melt. He was going to die here. In seconds he would cease to exist.

In the early years of their war, Djoseras had that Zultanekh would be the one to kill him. One good blow with the hammer and Djoseras would die, quickly if not necessarily cleanly. He almost wished that had come to pass, but of course then he could not have asked the crown prince of the Ogdobekh to watch over Oltyx now. A small comfort. Zultankeh would likely guide him better than Djoseras ever had. 

But will you think of me when I am gone? Djoseras wondered as the Astartes above him growled like a feral beast. Will you remember our schemes? Our battles? Those nights we met in secret and you reminded me that we still had so much to live for? 

The astartes cried something in its guttural, alien tongue. A chant that its comrades soon took up. Two more of Djoseras’ immortals died. The invaders were so maddeningly assured of their victory.

I asked you to remember us, Oltyx. Djoseras felt the broken stones of Antikef digging into his back. Let me give you something worthy of remembering.

Djoseras angled his blade, let the space marines sword slide down and sliced into his faceplate. It sheared through his ocular, into his neural hardware. Alarms blazed through Djoseras’ systems. Half the world simply vanished.

But not the marine, who had jerked off balance. Exposing the weaker armor around his throat.

Djoseras jammed the tip of his blade through the space marine’s flesh where neck met shoulder. He drove the blade deeper, showering himself with unclean blood. The revulsion he expected at this did not come. Probably because the power sword had cut off the part of his neural system that could feel disgust. At least he could still feel some relief. Antikef was far from safe, but this threat would not come for Djoseras’ little brother.

“I am sorry,” he whispered. “I taught you the wrong lessons. I could not protect you from our father or from yourself. Now I have placed the weight of our dynasty on your shoulders, and I cannot even help you bear it.”  

The astartes captain slumped and fell, staining the stones of Antikef red.

Djoseras’ remaining vision blurred. Went dark. He did not pray to any god. His kind were far beyond that. But it felt like prayer, facing the heavens and speaking to the two people who might be his tomb and monument where there could be no stone. 

“Please,” he said. “Remember me.”

[frankendykes-monster]

Man of Steel arguably belongs to a wave of pseudo-religious epics from around this time, including Noah, Godzilla, Prometheus and Exodus: Gods and Kings. Central to these movies is the idea that maybe God does exist, but He is at best indifferent to human suffering and at worst actively delights in it. Man plans, and God laughs. Praying to a man in the sky is going to get you killed.

I know Skull Island set up the “hollow earth” thing, but it’s weird how casual everybody is about this stuff. I’m more impressed by a new flavour of pop tart than these people are by discovering that their entire understanding of how the world works is wrong. To be fair, this is just a side effect of the modern franchise age. Audiences have seen dozens of these things, so what’s the point in even pretending any of this obviously impossible stuff is even unusual? It’s just another day at the office for everybody. To be fair, I suspect this is how a lot of fans view the media that they consume. People obsess about “spoilers”, as if they are waiting to be surprised by this experience. In truth, they don’t want to be awed. If anything happens that they don’t expect, they are horrified.

[...]

It’s worth just writing down some of the stuff that happens in King of the Monsters. The characters discover that one of the monsters is also an alien. They then discover that Atlantis is real. Then Washington is flooded. None of this is given any room to breathe. The characters never get to sit with any of this, or process it. At the very least, the world should look like the third act of Independence Day, but there’s just so much stuff happening non-stop. It could be argued that this is ultimately what makes King of the Monsters a very 2019 movie, in contrast to Godzilla as a very 2014 movie. In 2014, the idea that God cared not for us mere mortals was horrifying. By 2019, the prevailing mood is, “look, the apocalypse is happening, just roll with it.”

I made my own variation of the statement of "shit has gotten so bad that people want to go back to a decade ago" upon seeing appraisal for Clash of The Titans (2011) in the context of more recent blockbusters, and people may recall any number of variations of my sentiment that you are an absolute lunatic if you think Jurassic Park (1993) or The Lord of The Rings represents the height of artistry in filmmaking, buuuuuut I am a bit surprised looking back at the transition from the likes of Transformers (2007) to Transformers: Rise of The Beasts (2022) or Man of Steel (2013) to The Flash (2023), in the sense that there was a relatively recent time where IP tentpole films were still nominally expected to be "about something" and carry some sense of thematic and physical weight to their proceedings.

Personally speaking it'd be very easy for me to blame The Avengers (2012), the most important and influential film of the 2010's, with how it functionally perfected the model of how to maximize profits with existing IP and ensure brand loyalty amongst audiences to return for the same thing next year, but I'm not sure that's satisfactory explanation for me.

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Harry Dresden Does Not Handle Exes Well

If Storm Front was the general introduction to the world, Fool Moon to werewolves, and Grave Peril to the Vampire Courts, then Summer Knight is where we meet the Fae Courts, and they are unequivocably the most dangerous of the factions Dresden has interacted with so far. Harry's actions and interactions with the Queens and Ladies in this book echo into the rest of the series, and have consequences all the way through Peace Talks and Battle Ground. That said, this book is also weirdly bifurcated in terms of Harry's personal character arc--he had man pain and girl trouble--and the plot-y, political stuff with the council and fae courts. Let's talk Summer Knight.

As per usual, FULL SERIES SPOILERS below the break, so be warned.

Harry opens this book hardcore wallowing in guilt and self-loathing over Susan's abortive transformation, exodus from his life, and his own inability to reverse the change. He hasn't showered or shaved in way too long, he's about to be evicted from everywhere, and all his friends are trying and failing to stage interventions.

Then the high school sweetheart he low-key thought he might have accidentally murdered after she betrayed him to their abusive foster father/teacher (who Harry killed in a duel) quite literally knocks on his front door.

And this is on top of Murphy--who has fully shifted into BFF territory at this point--struggling with psychic scars that Harry also blames himself for. Being a mortal woman in Harry Dresden's orbit honestly sounds EXHAUSTING because this man has exactly zero sense of the balance required to actually help someone. Harry gets lost in his own man pain and how he somehow "should" be able to throw raw power at a problem and fix it, and the next thing you know, the women who are reasonably dealing with their own trauma suddenly have to drag Harry's ass out of his pain over their pain. There is a reason flight attendants tell you to put on your own mask before assisting others. Hell, even Elaine says it to Harry at the end of the book:

Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Harry. [...] I understand that there's something you're blaming yourself for. I'm just guessing at the details, but its pretty clear you were driving yourself into the ground because of it. Get over it. You aren't going to do her any good as a living mildew collection. Stop thinking about how bad you feel--because if she cares about you at all, it would tear her up to see you like I saw you a few days ago.

This is not the last time someone calls Harry out for not helping, but it honestly isn't until about Skin Game that the Susan stuff and its aftermath get fully resolved. Not to get too TMI on main, but honestly Harry reminds me of a college boyfriend I had who just could not handle my health stuff. And that's not a judgment thing, not everyone can handle everything, but where Harry falls down on the goddamn job here is not knowing where his own weaknesses are and compensating for them. His pattern of "but muh man pain" holds all the way through the series, literally up to and including Battle Ground.

So suffice it to say that I'm not a huge fan of Harry Dresden Goes to Peices over Both His Ex-Griflriends. So what did I like about this book?

Couple things.

I loved that Harry finally brought Murphy fully into the supernatural world fold. I don't love his sexist bullshit with her, but I spent a lot of the series ignoring that because the rest of their dynamic is really damn good. And Murphy handing the Chlorofiend its own ass is never not awesome.

I also really, really enjoyed the introduction of the fae courts. Butcher really did take just a massive double handful of fairy myth threads and weave them into something magical (if perpetually horny in a way that gets really complicated and more than a little contradictory later). Summer and Winter more or less seem to map onto the Seelie and Unseelie courts, and the power structures more or less steal from the maiden (lady)/mother (queen)/crone (mother) structure of triple goddesses across the world. Not to mention that we get folkloric and fantasy creatures from trolls and centaurs to red caps and Jenny Greenteeth throughout the courts. We even get things like changelings and Victorian Era-inspired small folk. We also get the dangers of fairy bargains, food, and glamor. I would be hard-pressed to point to a fairytale/fae folk tradition that doesn't get some level of wink-and-nod at some point in the series. Hell, we even get a cheeky final line from Shakespeare's fairy play, at which point you've officially ticked every box.

Overall, I would have to say that the worldbuilding and the fae courts were what really kept me reading this book. I loved the synthesis of lore and myth in creating them, and the little bait and switch we get with Winter being the straight shooting court and Summer being absofuckingloutely terrifying in its duplicity is a nice touch that honestly I didn't appreciate on earlier reads.

[fablewritesnonsense]

Got tagged by @charliesvarietyhour to share some WIPS (thanks for remembering me even while you're not feeling well<3)

gonna send some no pressure tags to @andyandnormski @notanandalitebandit @taffingtons @bardic-inspo if y'all wanna share the WIPs.

Currently have two active WIPS, one of them is stuff happening after Nuclear Family since I finished the last chapter of the mainline fic, and the other is Nuclear Family but 70s eldritch horror because I just can't let these babies go, apparently.

Since the After fic contains spoilers, here's my reworking of the first chapter of NF to fit the new version.

Haven Court was, as most American suburbs were, filled with couples whose opinions were ageing about as well as they were. They stuck close to each other as they raised children who they praised for taking on their views and dubbing those who dint to be troublemakers. Most of the community had been set there for at least a decade, if not longer, and had loudly declared they'd live there forever.

Funny, how impending nuclear apocalypse can change that.

Sure, the war over oil and coal had been going on since the earliest residents of the suburbs had moved into the manicured lawns; as long as many of their kids had been alive, if not longer. And yes, the actual threat of nuclear war was further off than the tk(figure out where the war is) front lines. But mass hysteria is the cleanest resource on earth. One quick whisper and a whole town is suddenly convinced the bombs are going to disrupt their artificial utopia. When major organizations start advertising shelters for the end of the world? Well, you can only imagine.

The Smiths were the first to move, headed down to D.C. after their daughter had gotten them a spot in the Shelter there. But as they thought this was a sign of mass exodus from their neighborhood, a newly married couple bought up the house.

The Valentine family was strange, to say the least.

Richard was nearing thirty, and recently honorably discharged from the army where he'd served valiantly as a captain. He was the picture of the American dream; handsome, strong and tall, with icy blue eyes and golden hair that fell into swooping waves around his head. Many a morning routine was diverted by the housewives so that they were either in their front living room or in the garden as he took his morning run through the neighborhood.

Virginia was a tiny thing, and didn't seem much older than the eldest of their daughters- who had only just begun to worry about college. She had the look of a fawn, with long brown hair, a smattering of freckles she never bothered to conceal, and big brown eyes that were so dark they threatened to be black. A smidge plain, but if she bothered to do something nice with her hair and make-up, as she did randomly throughout the week, the local men would declare her "pretty enough."

And they couldn't seem more different to the residents. He was sociable, always around to help clear a blocked drain or lift something heavy should wound of the ladies need it. She was almost always out of the house, and when she was home, she was in the back garden with her headphones on ignoring almost everyone. Very rarely was she able to make it to any of the countless barbecues and dinner parties they were invited too, and Richard always declared her "too busy." The residents began to question why in the world they were even together until the July 4th barbecue, which was the first she was able to attend.

***

"Pregnant, I told you, Nina," One of the women said under the large oak tree that stood in the center of the cul-de-sac. they observed the couple as they walked up, Virginia wearing a juliet dress that showed off the beginning of a baby bump and waving off a beer in favor of a cola.

"No wonder, I bet her daddy threatened him," Nina said, shaking her head as she shoved a wad of cash into the other woman's hand.

"Veronica managed to get her attention from across the fence," a third said, taking a sip of her beer as she watched. "Managed to sneak in and figure out a few things."

"Well, don't go keeping us in suspense, Mildred," Nina said, eyes glittering with the idea of potential gossip.

"Yes, did she say how she managed to trap that slice of American pie?" the first woman asked, getting an elbow and a cackle from Nina.

"She didn't, Sandra, but I did learn she's an incredibly intelligent young lady," Mildred said, sounding impressed but a touch sad. "She only just turned eighteen in February, and graduated from Harvard Law in April. Turns out she's at that big firm in Cambridge, she's on the team surrounding the Locke Construction Company in that big safety case, she's been helping my brother Maxford with his personal suit against them as well."

"Eighteen, that sorts it," Sandra snorted, shaking her head. "She probably seduced him to get him trapped. Bet she knew she couldn't get a man otherwise." Mildred sighed, looking at the young woman who stood on the sidewalk quietly sipping her cola alone, eyes taking in the crowd and watching their behavior.

"It takes two to tango, Sandra, you know that," Mildred said, catching her daughter's gaze and tilting her head in the direction of Virginia. Veronica nodded and jogged across the cul-de-sac, taking Virginia's hand and dragging her over to where the gaggle of teenage girls stood. She truly looked like a deer in the headlights as the girls seemingly began to flood her with questions. "He's old enough to know better."

"Did you know," Nina said suddenly, looking between them. "Richard is part of the Lovell family. His elder sister married the heir of Barlow Medicine some time back. He took her last name so that she didn't have to get all of her things updated."

'He's so kind and considerate," Sandra said with a sigh before hiding her mouth behind her hand. "And not too bad in the sack either." Nina gave a scandalized squeal and smacked her friend while she cackled, eyes glittering with the gossip.

"I just feel so bad for that baby," Mildred said with a sigh. "There can't be any love in a home like that." The other women were too busy cackling over the couple to notice, though.

***

"Gals, you're not giving her time to answer," Veronica said, smacking a few of the closer girls with a hand fan before she used it to help wave the heat off her warm brown skin. "Give her a second to breath." Gin gave her a grateful smile, clinging to her bottle of cola for dear life. the last time she'd had to deal with this many teenagers, they largely ignored her because she was ten. She'd almost rather be in front of a court room, at least she could predict how that would go.

"so, what was it like?" Asked a mousey looking girl who seemed ready to wreak havoc at the drop of a hat.

"What was what like?" Gin asked, completely lost.

"You know..." she said before pointing to Gin's stomach. "The baby-making." Gin almost choked on her cola wile Veronica rolled her eyes.

"You have about as much tact as your mom Dottie," Veronica said with a sigh. "Good lord."

"What? All the steamy romance novels got banned so obviously there's something good enough to get banned," Dottie asked while the other girls giggled.

"Not worth it, is what it was," Gin said, shaking her head. "Don't bother with boys, they have no clue what they're doing."

"Well," purred one of the girls that looked like a spoiled house cat. "My mother said hes better than my dad in bed." The girls gasped and giggled, and Gin felt something churn in her gut knowing he was just sleeping around.

"Her bar is in hell," Gin said flatly. "If she thought it was anywhere decent, her bar is in hell." Veronica snorted while the other girls squealed and laughed.

"Monica, isn't your dad, like, overseas, serving?" Veronica asked dryly, twisting one of her locs around her finger. "Feels mighty shit of Miss Sandra to be fooling around with the unemployed neighbor while he's off at war." The girls shushed Veronica as one of the adults passed by, but the girl rolled her eyes. Gin bit her lips so as not to laugh, and Veronica gave her a wink.

"So, what college are you going to?" Dottie asked, trying to break the tension as Monica glared at Veronica. "Ronnie said you had your eyes set on Harvard, right?"

"I actually graduated from Harvard Law a few months ago," Gin said with a nervous laugh. "I've been working at the Cambridge Safety Firm since I graduated." The girls all gasped and began asking her questions about her job and college, all things she could actually answer confidently.

This first chapter was the hardest to write last time so I just went ahead and got it out of the way before NaNoWriMo since I've just got absolute brainrot for these characters. I'm also hoping to turn this into an original work down the road so shit's getting changed and updated while I tighten up the story a smidge. Even though my plans have already gone off the rails.

[princesscolumbia]

hmmm

spess ships, but mmos not the vibe...

hey do you like slight jank and... look i dunno how to describe it so I'm just gonna hand you the name Nebulous Fleet Command and go

upcoming update:

Amusingly, that type of game play would be available in the VRMMO in the game, you'd have to select the "Naval Captain" class on character creation instead of Independent like Diane does.

As far as "Why MMO?", it's because the series this work is intended to be part of is all based on some variety of VRMMO:

Trouble with Horns - CORA, fantasy MMO

Illegal Alien in a MMO World - CORA

Witch of Chains - CORA

Coven's Rebellion (Patreon Exclusive, unfinished) - CORA, but most of the book takes place outside the game

Lieforged Gale (unfinished) - Rellithesh, fantasy MMO

Esmie the Calamity (Patreon Exclusive, unfinished) - CORA

Digital Galaxies - Digital Galaxies (yeah, they used the game's name for the book)

Digital Exodus (Patreon Exclusive, unfinished) - ...surprisingly no VRMMO

Most of the books have different MCs, though the MCs of the earlier books will appear or be mentioned in later books. They all take place in the same "100 years in the future" setting, all of them feature transfemme MCs, all have some sort of romance sub-plot, and all have a specific "feel."

Basic "universal" plot is:

Egg doesn't know they're egg

Egg goes into VR

Shenanigans Ensue, Egg plays as woman

Egg feels really good about playing as woman

Egg 'comes out' and becomes woman in either digital form or IRL

Digital Exodus is the odd duck (heh...duck, egg...geddit?) because it's intended to be the last book in the series. It's going to bring in it's own plot threads (there's a [SPOILER] storyline that seemingly comes from nowhere) but it's all about wrapping up the meta-story introduced in "Trouble."

"Code of Ethics" follows the same formula as the others, but it's "feel" is "spy thriller," so the "MMO" part is only backdrop, not the primary driver of the story.

If you happen to play Star Trek: Fleet Command, you might just recognize a lot of "Galaxies Unlimited: Master and Commander" if you tilt your head and squint. 😉 I'm on the constant lookout for stuff that would keep it from being a carbon copy, so I might have to take a look at Nebulous Fleet Command if I feel like my writing of the setting is getting stale. 😊

While QuietVallerie hasn't endorsed my book as canon (yet...hopefully...knock on wood), I'm intending for it to fit with everything else she's written without altering her timeline or plot events. The idea is the events of "Code of Ethics" are spycraft, nobody is intended to be aware of them on the same scale as, say, the events of Coven's Rebellion.

(And for anyone reading this that's unaware, the subject of this post is Code of Ethics, currently being written and published on Scribblehub.)

Also, @meme-archivist, I keep following your blog but Tumblr keeps unfollowing you for reasons I haven't tracked down yet. Just FYI.

[alyssaforevermore]

Hounded ↦ Bellamy Blake 10. I Am Become Death

Synopsis: After being locked away for eight months, Athena Kane alongside 99 other criminals is sent to the ground to find out if it's survivable. The ground was the dream, but who knew it would turn out to be a nightmare?

Show: The 100

Pairings: Bellamy Blake x OC

Warnings: major series spoilers (full series will be covered), use of profanity, descriptions of violence, death, blood and gore, and mentions of drugs and alcohol.

Tags: @mellxander1993 @sweetz1919 @jordangdelacruz

Masterlist

An explosion in the middle of the night caught the attention of everyone in camp, including myself. We watched as the shrapnel of the Exodus ship flew through the night sky, the fire of the crash site burning below.

Clarke and I held each other, knowing both of our mothers had been on it. We didn’t cry, both of us trying our best to stay strong, in part for each other and in part for our own sanity.

It was now morning and Clarke had run off to search the crash site. I, however, couldn’t bring myself to go there just yet. Knowing my mother was dead, I couldn’t stop thinking about my father. At this moment I would give anything to talk to him, see his face again, no matter how angry at him I still was.

“Hey,” Bellamy spoke, placing a hand lightly on my shoulder. “I thought you could use some water.”

I gave him a half-smile, taking the canteen from his hands. “Thank you.”

He watched as I took a sip, his face scrunched together. Finally he sat down next to me. “I’m really sorry about your mom.”

I could feel my eyes begin to swell with tears, but I fought them back. “I’m just glad it was fast, you know? With losing contact with The Ark…” I stopped myself, swallowing hard. “I’m just glad she didn’t suffer.”

Bellamy nodded. “A group of us were planning to head out to the crash site; help Clarke look for anything we can use here. If you want to come, you’re welcome to. Or, if you’d rather stay here-“

I stood from my seat, my legs wobbling beneath me. “I’ll go with you.”

Bellamy stared at me for a moment. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“It almost feels unreal, you know? I have to face it. Besides, the more people searching, the more likely we’ll find something useful.”

Bellamy nodded, standing up as well. “Okay, let’s go.”

…

“Clarke shouldn’t be out here.” Finn whispered to Raven as he searched through some of the debris. “Neither should Athena.”

“You suck at whispering, you know that? Besides, I’m fine.” I turned to Finn.

He mouthed ‘sorry’ as Raven let out an exasperated sigh. “Her mom was on the ship. She's looking for answers. You want to help her, find me the black box, hard drives, anything that will explain why this ship crashed.”

My eyes scanned the area, taking in the charred trees and bushes surrounding the crash site. There were few bodies left intact from the crash, but each one I saw made me think of my mother. Had it been a quick death? Was she among the bodies surrounding you right now? That thought was almost too much to bare.

“Stay sharp. Grounder retaliation for what happened on the bridge is coming, just a matter of when.” Bellamy called out.

“Can you blame them?” Finn asked.

“No,” Bellamy responded. “I blame you.”

Late last night, Bellamy had told me all about the secret mission Clarke had pulled him in on. It turns out that Octavia had been seeing the grounder who stabbed Finn, and Finn went to him hoping for a meeting to discuss peace. Unsurprisingly, it hadn’t gone according to plan, with both sides firing at each other. 

“Maybe if you didn't bring guns-“

“If we didn't bring guns, we all would've been killed.” Raven cut Finn off.

Why they're coming doesn't matter anymore. It's our job to be ready when they do.” Bellamy said, before lowering his voice. “We're on our own now.”

Raven’s eyes lit up, her quickly jogging towards Clarke. “Clarke, stop!”

We all followed behind Raven.

“Rocket fuel?” Clarke asked.

“Hydrazine... Highly unstable in its non solid form. If this stuff meets fire, we're all pink mist.”

“Well, that’s great.” I quipped.

Raven picked up a rock, dipping it in a bit of the fuel and tossing it away from everyone. “Fire in the hole!”

The rock landed in some burning debris a few feet away from us and a small explosion went off, causing us all to share worried glances.

“We need to clear the area.” Raven added.

Bellamy nodded, looking around the crash site. "Okay, then. We move in formation, no straggling, weapons hot. We need to get back before dark."

…

When we all got back to camp, word had quickly spread that Murphy had been found outside the walls, battered and bloody. Bellamy wasted no time running off towards the dropship.

"Where is he?” Bellamy snapped, pushing his way through the door. “Everyone but Connor and Derek get out now!"”

"He claims he was with the Grounders." Derek spoke.

"We caught him trying to sneak back into camp." Connor added.

"I wasn't sneaking.” Murphy retorted, his voice lower than usual. “I was running from the Grounders."

Bellamy looked between the two boys. “Did anyone see any Grounders?”

They shook their heads.

“Well, in that case-“ Bellamy stepped forward, aiming his gun at Murphy.

“Wait a second!” I shouted, stepping between them.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Finn asked, standing next to Clarke.

"We were clear what would happen if he came back."

"No.” Finn protested. “If he was with the Grounders, then he knows things that can help us."

"Help us? We hanged him. We banished him, and now we're gonna kill him.” Bellamy attempted to push past me, but Finn quickly came to my side. “Get the hell out of my way."

“No,” Clarke finally spoke up. “Finn is right.”

“Like hell he is.” Bellamy snapped. “Guys, think about Charlotte.”

“I think about her all the time.” I responded. “What happened to her was as much our fault as it was his.”

Clarke made her way over to Murphy, examining him as Bellamy folded his arms across his chest. “He's not lying. His fingernails were torn off. They tortured him."

Finn scoffed, eying Bellamy. “You and the grounders should compare notes.”

Bellamy stepped closer to Murphy, slowly this time. "The Grounders know we're at war. What did you tell them about us?"

We all looked to Murphy, who was silent for a moment. “Everything.” He finally responded.

Clarke pulled Bellamy aside, Finn and I quickly joined them. "Once he's better, we find out what he knows, and then he's out of here, okay?"

"What if he refuses to leave? What do we do with him then?" Bellamy asked.

“Then we kill him.” Clarke responded before walking away.

Bellamy glanced at me, his eyebrow raised.

“What?” I asked.

Bellamy shrugged. “I thought you’d have something to say about it.”

“He can’t stay here,” I conceded. “I just don’t feel great about killing him.”

“Even after what he did?”

I took a deep breath. “Bellamy, nobody gave him a chance to plead his case. Don’t get me wrong, he gave us every reason to believe it was him, but this isn’t the Ark.”

“He made his choice, Athena.” Bellamy responded. “He can make his choice again; leave or die. I know what I’d choose.”

With that, Bellamy walked away, exiting the dropship.

I looked over at Murphy, who was still sat in the fetal position against the wall. He looked up at me for a moment, his eyes frail. 

I turned to Derek and Connor. “Keep an eye on him at all times and keep anyone besides myself, Clarke or Bellamy out of here.” 

They both nodded and I made my way out of the dropship.

…

The morning carried on, all of us around camp working on our daily tasks. I sat by the fire, taking a break from watch duty, my mind wandering to my mother once again. Then, I thought about my father and the possibility that The Ark had finally run out of air. As much as I was angry with him, the idea that I had lost both of my parents in a matter of a day felt heavier than I could’ve ever imagined.

I felt wetness roll down my cheek, a shock as I hadn’t even realized I was starting to cry. I wiped my cheek with my left hand, looking down at my hand to see nothing but red. 

Coughing erupted around the camp and I shot up from the log I was sitting on. A few feet away Clarke and Raven exited a tent, running into Connor who was half slumped over.

I did a mini jog towards them, my legs shaking beneath me. “Clarke-“ I started, stopping as she turned to face me, blood dripping down her cheeks as well.

“Raven, get away from us.” Clarke commanded.

“What?”

Clarke took a deep breath. “They’re the ones who brought Murphy in.”

I followed Clarke as she darted towards the dropship, heading straight for Murphy who was vomiting blood. Connor and Derek followed right behind us.

Clarke knelt down beside him. “Murphy, hey, look at me.” She started. “I need you to tell me exactly how you escaped from the Grounders. What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Murphy spoke, struggling for a breath. “I woke up and they forgot to lock my cage. There was no one there so I took off.”

“They let him go.” I spoke, Clarke looking back at me.

Footsteps raced into the dropship, Bellamy’s face coming into view.

“Bellamy, stay back.” Clarke spoke.

Bellamy looked at me, his eyes wide. “Did he do something to you?”

I shook my head.

“Then what the hell is going on?”

“Biological warfare.” I responded, my body falling back against the wall.

Clarke stood up. “You were waiting for the Grounders to retaliate for the bridge? This is it. Murphy is the weapon.”

Bellamy’s jaw tensed as he stepped slightly closer. “Is this your revenge, helping the Grounders kill us?”

“I didn’t know about this, okay?” Murphy shook his head. “I swear.”

“Stop lying!” Bellamy yelled. “When are they coming?”

Clarke focused on Murphy. “Think, okay? What can you tell us that’s useful? Did you hear anything?”

“They are vicious, cruel.”

“You want to see vicious?” Bellamy huffed.

“Don’t,” I pleaded. “Whatever this is, it spreads through contact.”

Clarke nodded. “She’s right, you can come anywhere near us or him.”

Finn entered the room, his eyes immediately locking on Clarke. “Clarke?”

“Finn, you shouldn’t be here. Nobody should.”

“I heard you were sick.” Finn responded. “What is this?”

“I don’t know,” Clarke shook her head. “some kind of hemorrhagic fever. We just need to contain it before-“

Derek began coughing, choking on the blood. Clarke and I rushed over, rolling him on his side, but it was too late. Derek’s body went still.

Bellamy froze. “Is he-“

Clarke nodded. “He’s dead.”

“What the hell are we supposed to do?” I asked. 

“Quarantine.” Clarke responded, looking to Finn. “Round up everyone who has had contact with Murphy and bring them here.”

Finn nodded, exiting the dropship.

“And everyone they’ve had contact with?” Bellamy asked.

“We have to start somewhere.” Clarke responded. “Connor, who was with you when you found him? Who carried him in?”

“The first one out there was Octavia.”

Bellamy’s face went pale, his eyes landed on me. In a matter of seconds, he was running out the dropship door.

…

I stood across from Bellamy as Clarke finished examining Octavia. I knew he was scared and part of me just wanted to comfort him, but I knew I couldn’t.

“We’re done.” Clarke spoke. “No visible signs of swelling or bleeding.”

“So you’re saying she doesn’t have it?” Bellamy asked.

“I’m saying she doesn’t have symptoms, but that could change. We need to keep her here just in case.” 

“No way.” Bellamy shook his head. “Look at this place. She’ll get sick just being here.”

Looking around the room, I couldn’t help but agree. There was blood covering at least ⅓ of the floor and sick people scattered everywhere.

“Do you want to stop the spread or not?” Clarke asked. “Look, I’ll keep her on the third level with the people who aren’t symptomatic yet. Think of it as a way to stop her from sneaking out again.”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “Screw you, Clarke.”

Clarke sighed, turning her attention back to Bellamy. “I’ll let you know if her condition changes.”

Bellamy nodded as Octavia and Clarke walked away. His eyes then fell on me, an unusual softness to them.

“Hey, if anything changes I’ll take care of her, okay?” I spoke, smiling softly. “I promise.”

Bellamy took a deep breath, nodding. “I know you will. Thank you, Athena.”

My eyes lingered on Bellamy as he left the dropship. When I turned back around, I noticed Octavia hadn’t yet gone up to level three.

I headed over to Clarke. “Why isn’t she up there yet?”

Clarke was hesitant to respond, but finally he did. “Look, the less you know the better. Just trust me, okay?”

“I just promised Bellamy I’d take care of her. What is she still doing down here?” I pushed.

“I’m sending her to find Lincoln-“

“Are you out of your mind?” I snapped. “For all we know, the Grounders are just outside our walls waiting for the right opportunity to strike. We can’t just send her out there, especially when we don’t know if she’s sick yet.”

“Athena, Lincoln might have some sort of cure for this.” Clarke explained. “If she doesn’t at least try to get it, more of us will die before the Grounders even get here.”

I was silent for a moment, fighting the part of me that knew Clarke was right. If it was almost anyone else, I’d be supporting this. I knew Octavia could handle herself, but the thought of losing her too?

“Alright,” I finally spoke.

… 

After helping Clarke take care of the others for a while, she had ordered me to take some time to rest. I must have passed right out, because I awoke to the sound of gunshots.

I pulled myself off of the floor, staggering outside where Clarke was standing in front of the entire camp with a gun in her hand.

“This is exactly what the Grounders want. Don’t you see that?” Clarke asked. “They don’t have to kill us if we kill each other first.”

“They won’t have to kill us if we all catch the virus.” One of the delinquents stepped forward, his gun pointed at Clarke. “Get back in the dropship now!”

Bellamy grabbed the boy’s gun, hitting him in the face with it. He then looked at Clarke. “Not to state the obvious, but your quarantine isn’t exactly working.”

Clarke’s legs gave out as she began to fall to the ground. Finn lunged forward, catching her.

“Finn, don’t touch her!” Raven called out.

Clarke shook her head. “Hey, let me go. I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not.” Finn protested. 

“Octavia will come back with a cure.”

“There is no cure!” Octavia’s voice rang out through the camp. She stepped forward, just a few paces behind Bellamy. “The Grounders don’t use the sickness to kill, though.”

“Really?” Bellamy challenged, pointing to a line of bodies. “Tell that to them.”

“Bellamy, she was trying-“

He ignored me, continuing on. “I warned you about seeing that Grounder again.”

“Yeah? Well, I have a warning for you, too.” Octavia spoke through gritted teeth. “The Grounders are coming and they’re attacking at first light.”

She pushed past her brother and towards Clarke and Finn, placing a hand on Clarke’s forehead.

“Come on,” she spoke. “I’ll help you get her into the dropship.”

The three of them headed inside, everyone finally heading back to work. 

Bellamy turned to Raven. “How many bullets can you make by first light?”

Raven thought for a moment. “Time to find out.” She replied before heading towards her tent.

Bellamy’s eyes landed on me again.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Octavia.”

He sighed and shook his head. “I’m guessing it wasn’t your idea.”

Bellamy didn’t wait for an answer before he headed off towards Raven’s tent.

…

While Clarke was resting, Octavia, Finn, Murphy and I were taking care of the other sick delinquents. As much as I felt uneasy in Murphy’s presence, I knew how badly we needed any help we could get right now. Bellamy and Raven were working on a bomb, while everyone else still unaffected by the sickness was either on watch duty or taking care of other camp responsibilities.

“How are you feeling?” Octavia asked, placing her hand lightly on my shoulder.

I tried to muster a smile. “I’m feeling okay, considering. I’ll feel a lot better when we know that the bomb worked.”

Octavia tensed up. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” I frowned. “I know how much you care about Lincoln.”

“He asked me to stay with him.” Octavia confessed, her voice in a whisper.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t just hide away knowing what was coming. I couldn’t do that to you, and even though I’m mad at him, I couldn’t do that to Bellamy.”

I nodded. “Bellamy will come around eventually. He’ll see that Lincoln isn’t a bad guy.”

Octavia shook her head. “I don’t know, Athena. I’ve never seen him so sure of anything before.”

Before I could respond, I saw Bellamy entering the dropship, propped up by two other boys. I barely had time to register his presence when he began coughing up blood.

Octavia spun around. “Bell?” He continued to cough as Octavia and I sprung into action.

“Clear some space and lay him down, now!” I demanded, rushing over to him.

Octavia knelt down, grabbing his hand. “Hey, big brother.”

“I’m scared.” Bellamy confessed through shallow breaths.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”

“That’s what I said to you the day you were born.”

“I know,” Octavia smiled. “You’ve told me that like a thousand times.”

I stepped away, letting the two have the first positive moment they’d had in days. A part of me was jealous; I would never feel that kind of love again. My family was gone, and I somehow was the only one left. It felt like some sort of sick joke; I was the expendable one, after all.

It felt wrong to hold onto that now, but there was still a part of me that wished things could be different. I wanted so badly to see my parents again and just let it all go, but that would never happen now.

…

I continued to help out in the dropship, mostly cleaning up blood and vomit in hopes of possibly minimizing the continuing spread of this sickness. I would tend to people here and there, and this time I was checking on Bellamy.

He had finally sat up, leaning over the side of the cott he had been given earlier.

“How are you holding up?”

His eyes met mine, a small smiling falling across his face. “Better. You?”

I sat down beside him, leaning back into the wall of the dropship. “I can’t wait for this day to be over.”

“When the day is over, we might all be dead.”

I let out a groan. “Right, I’d almost completely forgotten about that.”

“Jasper will come through with the shot.” Bellamy assured me.

“If he doesn’t, it’s all over.” I whispered. “Maybe this was how it was supposed to be. We should’ve died on The Ark with everyone else.”

Bellamy looked back at me, confusion written all over his face. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“I don’t know what I believe anymore.” I confessed. “We’ve fought so hard to still be here-“

“And this isn’t the end.” Bellamy stopped me. “This is not how our stories end, okay? You were sent down here to die, and you didn’t. The ground wasn’t meant to be survivable for another hundred years, but here we are. There has to be a reason for that.”

I nodded, closing my eyes for a moment.

Bellamy leaned back against the wall, taking a deep breath. Without thinking, I laid my head on his shoulder. He let it happen, even adjusting his body so I would be more comfortable.

On day one, I never would’ve expected to find comfort in Bellamy Blake. Now, it felt like he was always there when I needed someone. I felt safe with him, something I hadn’t felt with anybody in a really long time.

After a few moments, the sound of footsteps caught my attention. I opened my eyes, sitting up straight to find Clarke standing in front of us, a puzzled look across her face for just a second.

“We should start bringing everyone inside.” She spoke, looking between the two of us. “There hasn’t been an explosion yet and I think it’s better if we play it safe.”

I nodded, standing up. “Let’s do it.”

The three of us began rounding up the entire camp, each of them filing into the dropship one by one. Suddenly, there was a ground shaking bang and the sky through the trees lit up a bright orange before fading into a cloud of smoke.

“Holy shit.” I muttered.

Bellamy’s face lit up. “They did it.” 

Clarke stood next to us, her face never changing. “I am become death,” she began.

I let out a deep breath before continuing, “Destroyer of worlds.”

--------

AN: We have reached chapter ten, which means we have finally gotten to the point I had previously paused on! I really hope you enjoyed this one and I'm so excited to share chapter eleven and soon finish this first season. Please remember to like/reblog and share your thoughts <3 The tag list is also still open; let me know if you'd like to be added!

[dragynkeep]

I never got too deep into the tv series and honestly didn't even know it had a book adaptation but were there any big differences between them?

so many. to be fair to the show — with all the grace i'm willing to give jason rothenberg lmao — the show & the first book were developed at the same time from the same base concept kass had come up with for it.

that being said, here are some differences!

ㅤㅤㅤ•ㅤthe time between the nuclear apocalypse — called the cataclysm in the book — and the beginning of the story is 97 years in the show and 300 years in the books.

ㅤㅤㅤ•ㅤthe ark is referred to as the colony, and consists of three major “ships” (phoenix, arcadia & walden), rather than the 12 or so stations (medical, earth monitoring, agro, alpha, arrow, factory, hydra, mecha, prison, tesla, flint & orchid) on the ark.

ㅤㅤㅤ•ㅤin terms of comparability, phoenix & alpha seem to be the most “rich” of the stations / ships, and arcadia & walden being comparable to factory or mecha in terms of being the working class stations.

ㅤㅤㅤ•ㅤthe colony itself has a far more in depth look into the classism on it’s ships, with phoenix being the “upper class” ship where people can have a better life through their status and wealth, vs arcadia & walden being more “working class” where people struggle to get by and a lot of the ships resources are not allocated properly. there is also a law divide between the ships, as those on walden or arcadia are not allowed to travel between the ships to phoenix without permission, and doing so could result in punishment.

ㅤㅤㅤ•ㅤin the show, clarke & bellamy are the two main leads; in the books, there are four pov characters, with wells being one and another being glass sorenson, who isn’t in the show and doesn’t have any composite character there.

ㅤㅤㅤ•ㅤthere are no grounders in the books; instead the people found on the ground when the delinquents land are a rebellious offshoot of the main group known as the earthborn. however they are more equivalent to a “good” version of the mountain men; as their ancestors survived in the mountain bunker before leaving it 50 years before the books start. they are led by max walgrove.

ㅤㅤㅤ•ㅤas such, there are no grounders from the shows in the books. other characters from the show’s main group that don’t exist in the books : raven reyes, finn collins, john murphy, marcus kane, monty green, jasper jordan, harper mcintyre, eric jackson, nathan miller, etc etc.

ㅤㅤㅤ•ㅤlincoln also does not exist in the books but there is a character similar to him in concept — a person from earth falling in love with a sky person & being rebellious against their people — in max's daughter, sasha walgrove.

ㅤㅤㅤ•ㅤraven reyes also has a character similar to her in luke, glass's boyfriend. both are engineers who struggle to keep their loved one alive & suffer a leg injury some time into the show / book.

ㅤㅤㅤ•ㅤvarious name changes from show to book are: ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ•ㅤaurora blake is melinda blake. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ•ㅤabby griffin is mary griffin. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ•ㅤjake griffin is david griffin.

ㅤㅤㅤ•ㅤthe colony’s law follows the gaia doctrine, the ark follows the exodus charter.

ㅤㅤㅤ•ㅤthe skyboxis referred to as confinement or the detention center.

ㅤㅤㅤ•ㅤthe nuclear apocalypse (praimfaya or apocalypse one) is referred to as the cataclysm or the exodus.

ㅤㅤㅤ•ㅤthere’s no name for the tree in the show, but in the books, it’s referred to as the eden tree & it is set on fire by wells' in order to get himself sent down to earth.

ㅤㅤㅤ•ㅤoctavia is 16 in the show & 14 in the books. bellamy is 23 in the show & 20 in the books.

ㅤㅤㅤ•ㅤwhile clarke & bellamy are confirmed bisexual by the show & actors, it is unknown if kass intended for them to be bisexual in the books also. however, octavia is confirmed bisexual or mspec, as she has been shown to have crushes on wells & graham, & kissed a girl named anna.

SPOILER TERRITORY BELOW.

ㅤㅤㅤ•ㅤbellamy is wells' half brother, with wells’ father, chancellor jaha, who had slept with melinda blake before getting into a relationship with wells’ mother. as there are no described races in the books, the ethnicities of the boys & their parents are unknown. this did not carry over into the show, as bellamy is played by the half filipino, half white actor bob morley, & wells is played by the black actor eli goree.

ㅤㅤㅤ•ㅤbellamy & clarke are a confirmed couple in the books, having gotten engaged in the last book, rebellion.

ㅤㅤㅤ•ㅤmary & david griffin are revealed to be alive in homecoming, surviving unlike their counterparts in the show: jake (who died before the show started via being floated) & abby (who was murdered by russell lightbourne.)

this was a very long post & there are probably other differences but i'm in the process of rereading the books now so i'll reblog this with any others i find if i do!

[antoine-roquentin]

Watching Funeral in Berlin, the second film in an attempt to adapt the alright series of books by Len Deighton into a competitor with James Bond but less absurd and more realistic. It's from 1966, and what strikes me most is how (spoiler alert) the Holocaust is portrayed more as another old world atrocity among peoples of Europe rather than the typology of evil seen in movies even a mere decade later like Marathon Man and Boys from Brazil. Even after a big budget hit film like Exodus, being too concerned about the Holocaust in this era was seen as a sign of being too emotional and not able to deal among the squabbling tribes of Europe.

To an extent, that view traces its way back to Roosevelt doing peace negotiations between Russia and Japan in 1905 and the way the press covered the efforts by Woodrow Wilson's Peace Note and Henry Ford's Peace Ship to do the same. Europe was a land of atrocities and coming to America meant you had to forget all that and leave it in the past, whether you had fled the British in the 1840s, the Tsar in the 1890s, the Turks in the 1910s, or the Nazis in the 1940s. You were American now and had to assimilate.

However, in 1967 Israel beat the two proxies of the Soviet Union in the Middle East, Syria and Egypt, and suddenly the order came down for the film industry to switch views and promote a more pro-Israeli line, which is why on the one hand why our films since are less ambivalent about killing Nazis like the above and more like Raiders of the Lost Ark, but on the other hand just goes to show the extent to which Hollywood rules are laid from the top down.

[myreia]

Sand & Stone

Rating: G Pairing: Aureia Malathar / Thancred Waters Words: 1915 Notes: Takes place early in the post-ARR patches. Major spoilers ARR ending spoilers (for sprout friends). Headcanons running wild. Read on Ao3

Aureia finds him on the roof.

He sits with a knee pulled into his chest, his hands clasped firmly around it. The breeze rustles his hair as it sweeps through the air, carrying the scent of salt and brine. Sheathed daggers and an aetherometer lie beside him, the burnished goggles glinting in the sun. He straightens, tensing as she approaches—no doubt he heard her arrive. Stealth has never been her forte.

“Is this my call to action?” he asks, not looking at her. Though he speaks with his usual easygoing charm, she hears the hollowness beneath it. He puts up a good fight to pretend it isn’t there, acting as if nothing has changed. But a façade is still a façade, no matter how good it is. “Has Minfilia seen fit to request my aid once again?”

She exhales a slow breath and walks briskly across the rooftop. “Not quite,” she says, settling down behind him. Sweeping a lock of black hair behind her ear, she sits back-to-back with him and curls her legs beneath her. “I’m sure she will in due course.”

He makes a strangled sound, so quiet she almost misses it.

Shielding her face with a hand, Aureia casts an eye across the square below. Busy on a good day, Vesper Bay is now positively bustling with traffic. The Scions’ exodus from the Waking Sands is upon them and their final day has attracted a crowd. Porters scurry to and fro, weaving through the milling bystanders as they load the carriages. Y’shtola flits in and out of the chaos directing what she can. Papalymo and Yda, too—even Urianger has set aside his studies to assist. They are easily picked out in the crowd, their white clothes shining like beacons in the noonday sun.

“Besides,” Aureia continues. “I think our friends can manage it.”

She feels him nod and they fall silent. She hesitates, picking absently at her ringbands, the worn leather coarse beneath her fingertips. How long has she had them? It must have been during those early months in Ul’dah, not long before she met…

“Surely you didn’t come all the way up here just for me,” Thancred says. “The famed Warrior of Light has greater things to attend to than little old me.”

Aureia stiffens, her fingers threaded through the ringband. It’s been like this ever since the Praetorium. He’s done his best to avoid her, finding one reason or another to quietly excuse himself should they happen to be in the same room. Gods, she can’t remember the last time they looked each other in the face. Whenever she thinks of it, all she can see is Lahabrea. The way the Ascian stared at her through those familiar eyes, twisting the expression of her closest friend into one of malice and contempt before blasting her with enough magic to toss her like a ragdoll.

If not for Hydaelyn’s protection, she would have died. Even now, she bears the marks of the fight, her body bruised and burnt and aching. Despite all her training, she never felt more powerless. Magic is her domain, her area of expertise. But no matter how quickly or cleverly she wove her spells, the Ascian was always one step ahead. She barely survived and the incident has left her raw and broken, incapable of casting even the simplest spells. The moment she tries, she is thrown back into the arena, Lahabrea’s cruel laughter ringing in her ears.

Some black mage I am…

Aureia swallows the lump in her throat. She can’t bring herself to blame Thancred for her own faults. He is as scarred by those events as she is—if not more. She can’t imagine what it must have been like for him, to have his body overrun by another, to be complicit in nearly killing her even though he had no control over his own actions…

Seven hells, no wonder he can’t look her in the face.

“…Aur?” Thancred asks quietly, startling her out of her thoughts.

She scuffs a heel against the stone. “I came because I was worried about you. Historically, things haven’t gone well when you disappear for long stretches at a time.”

He chuckles and shifts his weight, pressing his back into hers. “I needed a moment,” he murmurs. “Leaving Thanalan is…”  

“A lot?” she offers.

“I was going to say momentous. This is our home. Of course Urianger has chosen to remain, but even so…”

“I know.” She releases her ringband and places her hand on the ground beside her. The stone is uncomfortably warm to the touch. The heat flares across her palm in a way all too reminiscent of handling magical fire. “I feel it, too.”

Thanalan is her home now. It surprises her how quickly she came to love the rugged sands and desert heat. When she first arrived in Ul’dah, she swore she would never step foot in it again. The city assaulted her senses with sound and smells, confounding her until she lost her way in the labyrinthine streets. Even making her way from the Quicksand to the western gate without losing her way was a challenge in and of itself.

She had never felt more alone in her life. Branded as refugee, ridiculed as a newcomer, and terrified every day that someone might trace her identity back to her Garlean sympathizer parents, she closed herself off. One month, she promised herself. Enough time to accumulate what gil she could by working odd jobs and purchase passage out of the city. It was clear that if Thanalan didn’t want her, she didn’t need Thanalan.

How that has changed. And the person responsible for that is sitting beside you.  

Aureia tilts her head and closes her eyes, half-leaning against Thancred. There’s something comforting and familiar about sitting here with him beneath a vibrant blue sky, basking in the sun as it beats down upon them. “This is good for us,” she says quietly. “The Scions, I mean. We’re exposed here. Ascians, Garleans… it’s only a matter of time before they try again. Mor Dhona will afford us some means of protection we’ve lost.”

“We’re not vacating completely, you know,” he replies. “Are you telling me that when they do return, you’re content to let Urianger take the blow?”

“Let them contend with Urianger, be my guest. I know who’s coming out of that alive.”

He laughs, a deep, shoulder-shaking laugh she feels reverberated through his back. A smile tugs at her lips, but as much as she wants to, she can’t give into it. Once again, they’re dancing around the topic neither them are brave enough to broach. She can’t let it go on like this. Though she has filled her days with work and missions, his absence is an ache in her heart. She needs to talk to him. Properly.

Aureia opens her eyes. “Than—”

“Aur—”

They stop, each biting back as they speak over each other. He sighs and shifts his weight, changing positions. His hand drops to his side and he reaches behind him, his fingers ghosting across hers.

“I never apologized for…” He trails off, fighting with himself as he searches desperately for the right words. “Aur, what I mean to say is that… I’m sorry for dragging you into this. This is my fault. Ifrit, Castrum Centri, the Praetorium. All of it. I never wanted to see you hurt.”

“I know. But it wasn’t your fault. You need to stop blaming yourself—”

He stiffens. “But—”

She seizes his hand. “Listen to me for once, all right?” she interrupts fiercely. “Every time you tell Minfilia that you’ve recovered and want to return to your duties, you’re lying to yourself. You can’t bear the guilt for something over which you had no control. If you’re going to move forwards, you have to acknowledge that. This is no easy life we’ve chosen for ourselves. What happens the next time something like this occurs? Or the next? You have to let it go.”

He makes a garbled sound, too taken aback by her ferocity to argue. “When did you become so loquacious?” he says with a shaky little laugh. “I swear, that’s the most I’ve ever heard you say. Maybe I should make you angry more often.”

She makes a face and twists around, craning her neck over her shoulder. “You have impossible standards for yourself, Thancred Waters,” she says. “Keep this up and you’re going to bleed yourself dry. Take it from someone who knows that all too well.”

A sober silence settles between them. “Your magic hasn’t improved, I take it?” Thancred asks.

Aureia pauses, her teeth scraping her lower lip. Magic has always been so personal to her, as natural to her as drawing breath. To lose her focus, her connection, her innate talent… It’s humiliating. So much so she has barely mentioned it. As far as Minfilia and the rest of the Scions are concerned, there’s nothing wrong with her. She is their Warrior of Light—unbreakable, infallible, and flawlessly reliable.

How wrong they are.

“Maybe I was wrong to think it was my calling,” she says, twining her fingers with his. “Did I ever tell you that when I was training at the Thaumaturge Guild, Cocobuki asked me what I would do if an opponent closed the distance?”

“No. This is the first I’m hearing of it. What did you say?”

“I told him I would hit them with my staff.”

He snorts with laughter. “The wrong response, I imagine?”

She can’t help but smile. “Quite. He berated me, called me a fool, and told me the correct response was to run away. It wasn’t a lesson easily learned. But considering my current situation, perhaps I should look into it. Until I find a solution for my predicament, I’m useless in the field—”

He turns sharply, the profile of his face cast in shadow. “Not useless. Never useless.”

Aureia’s breath catches in her throat. Slowly, she uncurls her legs and shifts her weight, drawing up beside him. With her hand still entwined with his, she rests her head on his shoulder.

He pauses, tensing with momentary panic. This is the closest they have been in weeks. “Speaking of solutions, I may have one,” he continues. “Or several. As Minfilia still refuses to give me work, I find myself with too much time on my hands. I could train you. If you wanted.”

Her heart clenches, warmth blossoming through her chest. “Thank you, Than,” she replies. “But this is something I need to do for myself.”

She glances up and her eyes meet his. The sun beats down, as brilliant as it is harsh, and she looks at him fully for the first time since the Praetorium. Though there is a part of her that flinches when she sees him and conjures a memory of Lahabrea, it’s easier now to deny it. She won’t let it control her. Lahabrea has taken enough from her. She won’t let him take this, too.

Thancred nods and wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “I know you will,” he says, resting his forehead against hers. “Don’t lose hope. You’re the most brilliant black mage I know. You conquered it once, you can conquer it again. It will come back, I promise.”

Aureia leans into him, fingers still threaded with his, and together they watch the shimmering waters of Vesper Bay.