#Faith Arbor
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do you feel like you're stuck in time? forever waiting on that line
#faith#faith: the unholy trinity#faith game#faith chapter 3#fortis arbor's art#fanart#digital#ms paint#image described#blood /#gore /#body horror /#faith spoilers#I HATE THAT ONION HEAD THING !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#great games though. ::-)#lyric caption from the breeze by dr dog.
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wait hold on. thinking. what if Charles does have (some of) the same "just walk out if it sucks hit da bricks" mentality as Carlos but it also falls into the work/family parallels with them. like Carlos came to Night Vale for work- and to escape a workplace- Charles came to Desert Bluffs for family- and originally left Cactus Park (or, fuck, Pine Cliff) to escape one. What if he just grabbed Donovan and left.
This and okay hear me out I'm bringing out It Sticks With you because the traffic from it haunts me:
"But let’s have a look now at traffic. At the intersection of High St and McDowell sits a 2004 Honda CRV, silver, with a broken taillight. Inside the car is a man named Sergei. He’s looking at the night sky. He does not see the light change from red to green. Nor does he notice this process repeating. There is no one behind him to indicate his attention should be otherwise paid to the road. The intersection of High St and McDowell is curiously empty except for the man in his 2004 CRV."
that, then from The Mudstone Abyss Part 1:
"Let's have a look now at traffic. There's a single car, a maroon Honda CRV, one taillight out, driving along State Street. Inside is a man, listening to his radio."
which hey. imagine being me when I was listening to this episode and they just threw THAT out. But the traffic in It Sticks With You continues:
"If anyone else were around, and they were to look at the same night sky, they would see blackness and stars, the faint slit of a nearly-new moon. They may see an airplane or the wisp of a cloud. Yet Sergei sees something that anyone else would not. Sergei sees a triangle of bright orange lights. They do not move, nor blink. They simply are an inscrutable pyramid perched in the firmament. Sergei wonders if they are extra-terrestrial or just a trick of the eye. The traffic signal changes from red back to green, and the CRV does not move. No one else is around."
Yeah so he's the only one seeing an orange triangle huh? An orange triangle specifically? And isn't it consistent with the dark planet that when people end up in Night Vale they saw the dark planet lit by no sun beforehand. This idea of seeing something in a sky and ending up somewhere. (At this point I'm fulling using Sergei as a metaphor for Charles than a parallel sorry buddy)
and it continues:
"He is scared. He is hopeful too. Sergei hopes that he is to be abducted. Saved even. Taken away from his job, and his wife, and his dogs, and his family. Taken away from his CRV with its broken taillight. Taken away from High St and McDowell. He doesn’t know if the alien craft would imprison him, experiment on him, or even kill him. Everything that is unknown is hope."
So this when I first listened had me hey wait why's this guy paralleling Charles seeing an orange triangle and not liking his family D: but I think if we're seeing Sergei as a metaphor, a parallel, etc, and the lights as symbolic of db, this makes more sense to be Charles before Desert Bluffs. The lights- Desert Bluffs- being a promise of possibility he's hoping to reach
"Sergei does not pray, he only thinks of the possibilities of leaving his car, his body, his planet. And as the traffic signal changes again, Sergei opens his car door and steps out, jacketless, into the brisk night air. A swirling breeze curls his hair.
He stands in the center of the intersection of High St and McDowell and waves. He waves to the triumvirate of orange lights in the night sky, and he imagines someone or some thing waving back."
Then dropping everything and going no hesitation to greet this possibility. This whole time, not being sure if it'll work out- if it'll be dangerous. But everything that is unknown is hope. This could be better.
#and what would anything relating to Charles have to do with It Sticks With You? well remember the arboreal faith-#wtnv#joyousposting#long post#this was only going to be the first paragraph but I remembered It Sticks With You's traffic and went. oh shit.
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Trump vs. The Gospels
#phoenix#atlanta#detroit#philadelphia#milwaukee#minneapolis#newark#albuquerque#virginia beach#charleston#reno#flint#madison#las vegas#ann arbor#christianity#bible#jesus#faith in jesus#new testament
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A CONVERSATION BETWEEN OLD FRIENDS
Gwayne Hightower x Septa!Reader
Summary - Devotion will never be enough to make the Gods forgive you for the sin of your existence. They will keep finding new ways to punish you.
Warnings - fem!reader, bastard!reader, septa!reader, mostly edited, heavy religious themes & guilt, angst, yearning, *slightly* ooc gwayne but mostly cause he's drunk and bitter lmao
Word Count - 1.3k
!MINORS DNI!
// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //
Dark obsidian walls glisten like the night sky as you enter the Starry Sept from the motherhouse. Towering statues stand sentinel around the round-altar, carved in the likeness of the Seven. Forever repenting for the sin of your existence, you often acknowledge them as you draw close—with a nod, a prayer, an offering.
But not tonight.
Even with his forehead pressed to the altar, you recognize Gwayne by his tawny hair, shimmering like bronze in the candlelight. His tunic is wrinkled, half-untucked from his trousers. The sharp scent of alcohol burns your nose, strong enough to smell it from across the Sept.
For a moment, a smile touches your lips. You think of lost nights spent by the Honeywine river. Skipping rocks on the water and drinking from a bottle of arbor gold, snagged from his uncle's cellar.
But nostalgia is all too fleeting, soon replaced by deep worry for an old friend.
Cavernous and austere, the Sept echoes your every footfall. Consumed by a drunken haze, Gwayne remains oblivious to your presence, even as you sink to your knees beside him.
It’s only when you speak that he looks up.
“I’m reminded of a verse from The Warrior’s Edicts.” Armed with sword and helm, the God's stony eyes seem to peer down as you recite His wisdom: “Drink muddles the sensible mind. ‘Tis the duty of knights to remain sober-minded, to pave a path of rectitude so that all men might follow.”
Gwayne’s voice is unusually hoarse, wavering slightly as he tells you, “You won’t find a sober knight in all of the Seven Kingdoms.”
“Perhaps that’s why there are so many indecent men,” you turn your head to him with a soft smile, “because none are willing to pave a better way.”
Altar candles flicker, bathing his features in dim warmth. You note the faint stubble along his jaw, the dull shine of sapphire eyes. When was the last time you sat this close? It feels like a lifetime ago, now.
He swallows, looks down at his lap. “How did you know I was here?”
“Septon Halleck saw you come in,” you tell him. “Thought you looked in need of a friend.”
In the years since swearing your vows to the Faith, the aging Septon was your only blessing. Between services, he spins tales about his life before coming to Oldtown—of a youth spent north of the Neck, about a pale castle surrounded by frigid waters.
You tell Halleck stories about your life, too. He pretends not to notice that Gwayne Hightower is at the center of them all.
Softly, you tease, “Though if he had known you were drunk, he might’ve sooner tossed you onto the streets.”
Gwayne scoffs. Starts fiddling with his fingers, picking at them. “If the Septon’s life was half as grueling,” he grumbles, “then he would understand my need for a drink.”
“And what’s so grueling about the life of a trueborn son?”
It’s not meant as a slight, though a certain bitterness seeps through.
Raised in the shadow of trueborn siblings, you know well of the luxuries they’re afforded. Watched as your sisters were swathed in silk and coddled with gold, freely given all which you were made to claw for.
You recall a quote on envy that Halleck recited during your novice years, when your blood still ran thick with resentment: He who sits at the head of the table will still covet crumbs off a beggar’s plate.
But what if you’re the beggar? If the Gods gave you nothing but crumbs. Would envy still be a sin? Or a sign of injustice.
Gwayne shakes his head. Mutters under his breath, “You’ve never understood.”
“Understood what?”
“What it’s like to be shackled by your father’s name,” he answers, frustrated.
His thoughtlessness is a fist around your heart, squeezed tight.
If he was sober, he would apologize. If he was sober, he wouldn’t be here at all.
You suck in a calming breath, interlacing your fingers and resting your elbows upon the altar. Heat from the flames caresses your forearms as you utter a wordless prayer to the Warrior, asking Him to keep your voice from wavering.
“You’re right. I don’t understand.” Images flash in your mind. The hazy face of a father who didn’t want you. You clear your throat, say, “But I know it is to be nameless, and I can’t imagine the shackles of a noble-name hurt any worse.”
“Better to be nameless and free,” he says, “than noble and in chains.”
You fight the urge to laugh, instead citing a relevant phrase from The Book of Reflections. “Those bound in chains oft discover they were forged by thine own hands.” Gwayne’s head tips back, groaning. Your lips briefly twitch. “It’s not your fate to be nameless,” you tell him. “But, even if it were, the shackles are of your own making—you would bear them all the same.”
Drunkenness exaggerates his expression. Pulls his brows together, tugs his wine-stained bottom lip into a deep frown. “If I had known you were just going to quote scripture at me,” his words slur slightly, “then I wouldn’t have come.”
You don’t let yourself wonder at the implication there. That maybe he had come to see you.
“Why come to a Sept if not to receive wisdom from the Gods?” You ask.
Gwayne’s stare shifts upwards, settles on the scales of justice clutch in the Father’s stone fist. Sapphire eyes begin to blaze like searing flames. “For forgiveness,” he answers slowly, without inflection.
Hesitant, you ask, “So that’s why you’re here tonight? To ask the Gods for their forgiveness?”
His head shakes. His fingers never still, never stop tearing at his cuticles.
He holds the Father’s stare and, with a voice like death, says, “I’m here so they can beg for mine.”
The pressure in your chest grows tighter, his words resonating with a part of yourself long since buried by the Faith. The angry, bitter part of you—the nameless, the beggar, the bastard.
Instinct tightens your fingers, still interlocked. You look to those stone Gods. Feel an old weight settle on your shoulders as they look back.
Strained, you ask, “For what reason?”
Gwayne doesn’t answer. Asks his own question, instead. “Why did you join the Faith?”
You think of the Honeywine. Of the last time you sat this close.
Of a boy born with such honor, cherished by his Gods.
Of a girl born with such shame, scorned by them.
You think of the Faith. Of the passage that led you away from his side.
A Bastard's life is a testament to the reach of sin.
Tainted and tarnished, all they touch will come to rot.
Tears sting the back of your throat. Unsure of a better answer, you tell him, “Because we all bear our own shackles.”
As if comparing wounds, Gwayne offers up his own answer, too. “There was a feast tonight,” he tells you. “My father announced that I am to be wed.”
There’s such hollow silence. Obsidian walls wrap around you. Starlight burns your skin.
“To who?”
Something tells you that you won’t like his answer. A soundless voice, a whisper on a phantom wind.
Quietly, voice wavering, he tells you, “One of Lord Mullendore’s daughters.”
A stone drops in your stomach.
“Lord Mullendore…” Your mind begins to reel. Images flash. A hazy face. Silk and gold and clawing clawing clawing. “One of his daughters…”
All at once, the air is sucked from the room. As if oxygen is yet another thing denied to you in the name of repentance. As if all your devotion still isn’t enough to purge the rot from your existence.
Both soft and resentful, he murmurs, “She has your eyes…”
You keep your fingers interlocked. Gwayne picks his bloody. The Gods watch.
The path of devotion is fraught with pain. But fear not! Trials endured in Faith shall always be rewarded with Light. The Seven are just. The Seven are wise. The Seven are merciful.
a/n - Honestly, I just wanted to explore the internal conflict that might come from a bastard going the Faith of the Seven considering that, while they're welcome to become Septons/Septas, they're still viewed as being sinful and treacherous by nature. Additionally, the idea of a bastard being so in love with a pious, honorable man that she turns to his religion just feeds something inside of me?? like, her turning to scripture to communicate with him?? him beginning to resent the gods that 'cherish' him?? neither of them ever getting what they want??
anyways--all thoughts/opinions/feedback are welcome and very very appreciated!
#hotd#house of the dragon#gwayne hightower#hotd imagine#house of the dragon imagine#gwayne hightower imagine#gwayne hightower x reader#gwayne x reader#ser gwayne#gwayne hightower fan fiction#gwayne hightower imagines#hotd imagines#house of the dragon fanfic#hotd fan fic#hotd x reader#gwayne hightower one shot#gwayne hightower fanfic#hotd fanfic#hotd2#gwayne hightower x you#gwayne x you#gwayne fanfic#ser gwayne hightower#hotd season 2#house of the dragon imagines#hotd one shot#ser gwayne imagine
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Born to die
━━Benjicot Blackwood x oc
Prologue.
Year 126 A.C
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Lucrezcia was never fond of the Seven God's.
Perhaps it was due to her aversion to the septa, perhaps the seven gods seemed cruel to her, with their expectations of purity and penance. Maybe the gods didn't like her either.
There were few occasions when she had to go to the Sept for liturgy on special days. This was one of many. Maiden's Day, a day on which maidens of noble houses are required to go to the sept to light tall white candles at the Maiden's feet and hang parchment garlands about her neck and sing songs of innocence.
Prostitutes, widows, and men are barred from the sept. So were mothers, but Vala Harlaw was absent these day and all the following.
Lucrezcia thought of her mother at least once a day, where she would be, would she still be alive, perhaps she was happier now. These thoughts clouded the young woman's mind as she entered the small sept of the Arbor.
Vala had disappeared from the face of the earth, in the morning she was there, and in the afternoon she was gone.
But that was three long years ago, and Lucrezcia, still a maiden, was no longer a child.
A little tug on the sleeves of her gown brought her back to reality. Looking down, he found a pile of reddish swirls, covered by a tiara topped with a veil. Large, bright green eyes watched her intently, waiting for her to take the first step into the building.
Patricia, her younger sister, she was dressed in a small purple dressing gown, adorned with blue embroidery. It was her first Maiden's day in her four years of life, so little Patricia watched her big sister's every move with determination.
"Gals! Gals"
Septa Rowan hurried up the stairs to the sept portal with difficulty, catching her breath and fanning herself with her fat arms. As tradition dictated, young girls from noble houses were to be accompanied by their septas. Lucrezcia rolled her eyes in disdain, the old woman was like a watchful hawk, always on the lookout to correct any and all behaviour deemed inappropriate by the faith.
"What are you waiting for girls? We'll be late for the chants, come on, get a move on! "
The woman wasted no time in snatching little Patricia from Lucrezcia's skirts to hurry her towards the sept. The older girl lagged behind, still in front of the flower-decorated doors of the Sept.
Her mother was not one of the gods, either; she was an ironborn. Her god was the God of the Drowned, as much as her former husband would resent it.
Luther Redwyne was a man of the Seven, who condemned the ways of the mother of his daughters.
Vala, shorn of her faith, found ways to rebel against her husband's impositions. Small acts of rebellion, which had been engraved in her daughter's mind. Such as, spitting at the gates of the Sept, then stepping on his saliva on the ground.
"Lucrezcia, child, come in at once".
She scowled at the Septa, and when the old woman was out of sight, the girl spat on the stone floor and stepped on it. Then she entered the room, where the smell of smoke and incense burned her nostrils.
She was not fond of the gods, and some part of her gut told her it was mutual.
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Luther Redwyne was a tall man, who in years gone by had been a gallant man. His hair was already grey when her first daughter, Livia, was born. Now, the lord of the Arbor sported whitish hair, revealing traces of what had once been dark hair.
His clean face, now covered with light wrinkles, appeared at the dinner table in the chamber surrounded by his three other daughters.
Olga, the second eldest of the sisters, devoted to the Faith of the Seven, led the prayer and blessing of the food on the table, while the servants brought more. Lucrezcia watched the family inquisitively from her seat at the table.
Her older sister, Olga, the second sister, wore Septa's clothes. She had been studying the ways of faith for several years now, and had always been the neatest and quietest of them all.
Lucrezcia liked her sister, as broken as their relationship was, but that didn't take away from the fact that she thought she was stupid.
To Lucreczia, Olga was a coward, hiding under Septa's robes out of fear. Of her father and his business. Of marriage and of being sent to a strange place. She feared the unknown.
Somewhat, she through of herself the same.
There was a reason they were sisters
But Lucrezcia wouldn't hide in ugly garments, she was smarter than that. She would fight her father, she had been doing so since she came out of her mother's womb.
"...and may the Gods bless this supper and this family"
The four of them proceed to eat, well the other three did, Lucrezcia had been chewing a piece of cheese, under the menacing gaze of Septa Rowan, who was waiting at the door.
"The Maiden's day has been prolific, I hope"
Her father's voice broke the silence.
Lucrezcia tried to hold in her laughter, as little Patricia gulped down a handful of grapes to avoid her father's inquisitive gaze.
The little girl had tried to light several candles at the same time, inadvertently setting on fire one of the offerings on the statue of the Maiden.
"It has been... interesting" said Lucrezcia.
"I hope you enjoyed it, my dear. Considering it's your last day of the Maiden.... You'll be married by the next"
Lucrezcia abruptly dropped her fork and gritted her teeth.
She and her father had a duel of glances for a few moments. He wanted to provoke her, he knew her intentions.
Third child of one of the heirless men, with the two older sisters out of sight. Lucrezcia knew that if she waited, just a few years, and her father did not remarry, she could inherit the lands and fleets.
Luther was an intimidating man, one of the richest in the Seven Kingdoms, and therefore intelligent. An intelligence that his third daughter had inherited. Her father's head and her mother's rebellious spirit.
He had been trying to engage Lucrezcia with any man who offered a good deal. But it didn't matter. Lucrezcia knew how to chase them away.
"The last suitor you introduced me to had a better chance of making it to his funeral than to the wedding. If you offer me to another one, I might help him get to the funeral".
The Lord of the Arbor sipped from his wine glass.
"Watch your words"
"Will you force me?"
"Lucrezcia!" warned his sister.
"Sister Olga" replied graciously.
"Will you ever be demure?"
"Will you ever take that stick out of your ass?"
"Enough!" exclaimed the father.
Lord Redwyne rose from the table. He looked at his daughter menacingly. Only to be answered with the same impetus. How she reminded him of Vala, the iron maiden he had been promised who was more of a headstrong and a mother than without bringing sons into the world.
"Septa Olga, took little Patricia to her bedchambers, it's late" Luther waited for his two daughters to leave the room, and gave an order to the guards "Leave us".
Lucrezcia held her breath once the dining room door closed. It was not the first sermon her father had given her since she had blossomed.
It was after her mother's disappearance.
It was she who helped Livia affirm her marriage to a small lord of the Dornish marches, despite Luther's complaints.
Vala could be brusque and stubborn, she was not affectionate or kind. She loved her daughters, all four of them, in her own way. Lucrezcia liked to think that wherever she was, she was happier than she ever was on her island.
"You and your mischief, you have overstepped my bounds" his father began, "You have cost me nine septas in four years, you almost carried them with the stranger, Gods be damned". He ran a hand over his face. "I have given you opportunities, men from nearby lands, who will give you comfort and gold"
"Maybe I don't want their gold..."
I want my own.
She wanted to scream.
"And ten suitors later..." laughed the Lord "You've tried my patience, just as your mother did".
The mere mention of her mother stirred an anger she had been holding in. So much so that she grabbed the bronze goblet containing her wine and hurled it with all her might at her lord father.
The room fell silent. Lord Luther looked down at his wine-stained doublet with a cynical smile.
"But you are not alone, I too must succumb to the politics of marriage" he confessed.
Lucrezcia gave him a wary glance.
"Are you not too old?"
Lord Redwyne massaged his temple with his fingers.
"I am not getting any younger, my child. Your mother left without giving me an heir, so I must remarry and pray to the gods for a son" He said.
"We will sail to Oldtown in three days, where we will be met by Lord Hightower and my future wife. There too, waits," he let out a giggle like a naughty child, "Several lords of the Reach who have sons and castles that I can offer you for a well-negotiated dowry".
"You'll sell me for pennies"
"I am considering it" he said approaching her "But unfortunately you are too much, no man would accept you for free".
"And if your beloved son is born without a cock?" she spat.
"Then I will have the guarantee that you would be far away".
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Lucrezcia had not travelled much in her life, her mother always regretted. Vala loved sailing and discovery, something that had been taken away from her since her marriage.
Now, she had to collect all her belongings in suitcases and chests. To leave for an unknown place, as a present to an unknown man. She angrily pulled clothes out of their wardrobes, while her little sister watched from her dressing table chair.
Her two sisters went to see her off at the dock, where she was to sail to Oldtown. Olga held little Patricia in her arms to prevent her from running towards the ship.
The little one questioned his sister about everything, as she had never left the island. Patricia wished all the best for her older sister and it was clear that she would mourn her absence.
For unlike her father, she would not be returning to the Arbor, at least not for a long time.
Olga's necklace with the seven-pointed star hanging from her neck and ash-blond curls covered by the habit.
"But father will let us visit you, won't you father?" asked little Patricia. "Once you are married, we will go to see you, Lulu"
The girl had never considered herself sensitive, let alone affectionate. It was a trait inherited from her mother. Love was not something she could train or learn, but the love she felt for her sister made her heart shrink. If it weren't for the presence of the Arbor's entire retinue, she would have chained herself to the dock with her little girl.
"Of course you will, and Olga will help you to write letters. It'll be fine"
The little redhead looked up to her holy sister, waiting for affirmation. Olga seemed a little reluctant but offered the girl an attempt at a smile. The eldest of the sisters present had not uttered a word during the entire farewell, the ship would be leaving shortly. Lucrezcia thought she could see the words trying to escape her sister's thin, closed lips.
"Take care of her" said Lucrezcia.
"Don't I do it already?" she responded.
"Just... be present" said the younger one.
Be better than what you did with me.
Olga seemed to understand. She knew she had not been responsible for her younger sisters, not since her mother left and Livia married. It was not her duty, as far as it went, so she shut herself away in her books and her studies of the faith.
Lucrezcia was aware that it was not all her fault, not entirely. She herself knew that she was a difficult person. And if she could change it, she would.
"But you can't change who you are, so that's a problem for whoever crosses your path." Her mother said to her one day when they went hunting in the island's forests.
One last hug from the little girl, and a look of understanding between the older girls, and Lucrezcia and her father left on the ship for Oldtown.
The journey was short for the girl, who spent the entire crossing on deck, enjoying the sea breeze. They arrived in Oldtown harbour at sunset, where they were greeted by Ormund Hightower's retinue.
The city was built in stone, with all its streets cobbled, which can make them wet and slippery on a damp day.Most bridges are made of stone, although some wooden bridges can be found as well.The city itself is surrounded by massive, thick, high stone walls.Oldtown is a labyrinth of wynds, crisscrossing alleys, narrow crookback streets, and markets. These include the Thieves Market and Ragpicker's Wynd.
Luther and Lucrezcia settled in the High Tower, labyrinthine square fortress of unadorned black stone at the castle's foundation contains gloomy halls, vaults, and chambers.
The girl was grateful that she was not the one who had to carry her belongings up to her temporary quarters.
From the heights of her room, she could see practically all of the Reach. Her maid, a young bravoosi named Nyssa, who would be no older than she was, helped her prepare for the day ahead.
According to what her father and Ormund Hightower had discussed at dinner in the great hall, in the morning they would have lunch with her father's prospective new wife, Lord Tarly's daughter.
Later they would take a carriage to Honeyholt, the seat of House Beesbury in the Reach. It was situated along the eastern bank of the Honeywine river between Brightwater Keep and Oldtown. There, they would meet the long list of suitors that traveled from all corners of the Seven Kingdoms to try to marry her off.
As if.
"He expects me to believe that a bunch of men have travelled all the way to the ass end of the continent to marry a third daughter" she complained.
"Your father is one of the richest men in all of Westeros, my lady" Nyssa said in her clear accent. "I would travel as far as it took".
The dowry must have been very good then.
She wished Nyssa good night, but did not sleep until after the hour of the wolf. She felt like a fool; she had never been interested in romance, let alone expected a love match.
But in the loneliest hour, Lucrezcia hoped that her future husband (whom she would most likely meet tomorrow) would be a man who would respect and love her as she had only read about in books.
#game of thrones#asoiaf fic#got fic#hotd#asoif/got#benjicot blackwood x oc#got#house targaryen#benjicot blackwood#bloody ben#benjicot blackwood x reader#ben blackwood#ben blackwood x reader
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||COUNTDOWN ||SEASON 2 EPISODE 07 || FAITH ||
#83daysofoutlander☆
“Wait, Claire!” I half-turned; he was almost upon me. The soft gray numbness around me quivered, and I felt a sort of frozen panic at the thought that the sight of him might rip it away from me. If it did, I would die, I thought, like a grub dug up from the soil and tossed onto a rock to shrivel, naked and defenseless in the sun. “No!” I said. “I don’t want to talk to you. Go away.” He hesitated for a moment, and I turned away from him and began to walk rapidly down the path toward the arbor. I heard his steps on the gravel of the path behind me, but kept my back turned, and walked faster, almost running. As I paused to duck under the arbor, he made a sudden lunge forward and grasped my wrist. I tried to pull away from him, but he held on tight. “Claire!” he said again. I struggled, but kept my face turned away; if I didn’t look at him, I could pretend he wasn’t there. I could stay safe. He let go of my wrist, but grabbed me by both shoulders instead, so that I had to lift my head to keep my balance. His face was sunburned and thin, with harsh lines cut beside his mouth, and his eyes above were dark with pain. “Claire,” he said more softly, now that he could see me looking at him. “Claire—it was my child, too.” “Yes, it was—and you killed it!” I ripped away from him, flinging myself through the narrow arch. I stopped inside, panting like a terrified dog. I hadn’t realized that the arch led into a tiny vine-covered folly. Latticed walls surrounded me on all sides—I was trapped. The light behind me failed as his body blocked the arch. “Don’t touch me.” I backed away, staring at the ground. Go away! I thought frantically. Please, for God’s sake, leave me in peace! I could feel my gray wrappings being inexorably stripped away, and small, bright streaks of pain shot through me like lightning bolts piercing cloud. He stopped, a few feet away. I stumbled blindly toward the latticed wall and half-sat, half-fell onto a wooden bench. I closed my eyes and sat shivering. While it was no longer raining, there was a cold, damp wind coming through the lattice to chill my neck.
He didn’t come closer. I could feel him, standing there, looking down at me. I could hear the raggedness of his breathing. “Claire,” he said once more, with something like despair in his voice, “Claire, do ye not see … Claire, you must speak to me! For God’s sake, Claire, I don’t know even was it a girl or a boy!” I sat frozen, hands gripping the rough wood of the bench. After a moment, there was a heavy, crunching noise on the ground in front of me. I cracked my eyes open, and saw that he had sat down, just as he was, on the wet gravel at my feet. He sat with bowed head, and the rain had left spangles in his damp-darkened hair. “Will ye make me beg?” he said.
“It was a girl,” I said after a moment. My voice sounded funny; hoarse and husky. “Mother Hildegarde baptized her. Faith. Faith Fraser. Mother Hildegarde has a very odd sense of humor.”
The bowed head didn’t move. After a moment, he said quietly, “Did you see the child?” My eyes were open all the way now. I stared at my knees, where blown drops of water from the vines behind me were making wet spots on the silk. “Yes. The mâitresse sage-femme said I ought, so they made me.” I could hear in memory the low, matter-of-fact tones of Madame Bonheur, most senior and respected of the midwives who gave of their time at L’Hôpital des Anges. “Give her the child; it’s always better if they see. Then they don’t imagine things.” So I didn’t imagine. I remembered. “She was perfect,” I said softly, as though to myself. “So small. I could cup her head in the palm of my hand. Her ears stuck out just a little—I could see the light shine through them. The light had shone through her skin as well, glowing in the roundness of cheek and buttock with the light that pearls have; still and cool, with the strange touch of the water world still on them. “Mother Hildegarde wrapped her in a length of white satin,” I said, looking down at my fists, clenched in my lap. “Her eyes were closed. She hadn’t any lashes yet, but her eyes were slanted. I said they were like yours, but they said all babies’ eyes are like that.” Ten fingers, and ten toes. No nails, but the gleam of tiny joints, kneecaps and fingerbones like opals, like the jeweled bones of the earth itself. Remember man, that thou art dust.… I remembered the far-off clatter of the Hôpital, where life still went on, and the subdued murmur of Mother Hildegarde and Madame Bonheur, closer by, talking of the priest who would say a special Mass at Mother Hildegarde’s request. I remembered the look of calm appraisal in Madame Bonheur’s eyes as she turned to look me over, seeing my weakness. Perhaps she saw also the telltale brightness of theapproaching fever; she had turned again to Mother Hildegarde and her voice had dropped further—perhaps suggesting that they wait; two funerals might be needed. And unto dust thou shalt return. But I had come back from the dead. Only Jamie’s hold on my body had been strong enough to pull me back from that final barrier, and Master Raymond had known it. I knew that only Jamie himself could pull me back the rest of the way, into the land of the living. That was why I had run from him, done all I could to keep him away, to make sure he would never come near me again. I had no wish to come back, no desire to feel again. I didn’t want to know love, only to have it ripped away once more. But it was too late. I knew that, even as I fought to hold the gray shroud around me. Fighting only hastened its dissolution; it was like grasping shreds of cloud, that vanished in cold mist between my fingers. I could feel the light coming, blinding and searing. He had risen, was standing over me. His shadow fell across my knees; surely that meant the cloud had broken; a shadow doesn’t fall without light.
“He had risen, was standing over me. His shadow fell across my knees; surely that meant the cloud had broken; a shadow doesn’t fall without light.
“Claire,” he whispered. “Please. Let me give ye comfort.”
“Comfort?” I said. “And how will you do that? Can you give me back my child? ”
He sank to his knees before me, but I kept my head down, staring into my upturned hands, laid empty on my lap. I felt his movement as he reached to touch me, hesitated, drew back, reached again.“No,” he said, his voice scarcely audible.
“No, I canna do that. But…with the grace of God…I might give ye another?”
His hand hovered over mine, close enough that I felt the warmth of his skin. I felt other things as well: the grief that he held tight under rein, the anger and the fear that choked him, and the courage that made him speak in spite of it. I gathered my own courage around me, a flimsy substitute for the thick gray shroud. Then I took his hand and lifted my head, and looked full into the face of the sun.
Cap 28 - The Coming of Light ~ ‘Dragonfly In Amber’
#outlander#outlanderedit#the frasers#outlander starz#outlander series#jamie fraser#outlander fanart#samheughan#jamie&claire#jamie and claire#dr claire randall#claire fraser#claire beauchamp#caitrionabalfe#outlander books#outlander season 2#outlander 2x07
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Hi and I hope you are well! I don’t know if this is a weird question, but I’m always fascinated by the legends of the Reach particularly regarding the children of Garth Greenhand, and how that connects to the Faith in those areas. I think I saw a post you wrote some time ago about how for example Rowan Gold Tree’s story might have been adapted by the Faith into a parable about the Mother (apologies if I’m mistaken). I guess my question is, do you think Rowan and the others might have been actually worshipped as gods before the Faith, like Garth might have been? Also if I may ask a second question: do you have thoughts about Floris (my personal fave) how her story fits into Westeros’ patriarchal attitudes towards women? Does the fact that she founded three houses mean that she’s not vilified by the Faith for being non monogamous? Thanks and sorry again for weird questions!!
(I was mistaken, I think it was actually about Rowan’s story as a parable about the Maiden, like that her hair turned into a tree as a sign of being favored by the Maiden? I don’t quite remember who wrote this post.)
I have a vague memory of a post I wrote along similar lines a very long time ago too, but I couldn’t find it, so either I never did or I deleted it. Anyway, I do very much like to headcanon that the myth of Rowan Gold-Tree was co-opted by the Faith during its early establishment in the Reach as a myth about the Maiden - that Rowan, abandoned by her love for a richer rival, prayed to the Maiden in her heartbreak, and the Maiden, guardian and benefactor of virtuous maids, gave Rowan her golden tree, almost Cinderella style, perhaps as a sort of dowry to show that maidenly virtue was literally worth more than gold.
Whatever the particular relationship between the Faith and the myth of Rowan Gold-Tree, do I think that some or all of the legendary children of Garth Greenhand may have been worshiped as gods themselves? Very possibly. We know that there was at least some tradition of Garth being worshiped as or at least considered a god by Westerosi: Yandel notes that “[s]ome even say [Garth Greenhand] was a god” and that “[a] few of the very oldest tales” present Garth as a “considerably darker deity, one who demanded blood sacrifice from his worshippers to ensure a bountiful harvest” and a “green god [who] die[d] every autumn … only to be reborn with the coming of spring”. Yandel also compares Garth to fertility gods and goddesses worshiped by “[m]any of the more primitive peoples of the earth”, as Garth not only “taught men to farm” and “showed them how to plant and sow, how to raise crops and reap the harvest” but also scattered a seemingly divinely plentiful bag of various seeds and “brought the gift of fertility” to people and crops alike. Nor was this early history of Westeros an era without the worship of local deities beyond the old gods: the myth of Durran Godsgrief features a sea god and a goddess of the wind, the people of the Three Sisters worshiped the Lady of the Waved and the Lord of the Skies, and of course the ironborn believe in the eternal divine struggle between the Drowned God and the Storm God.
So I could see where, depending on the era and the location, various individuals among Garth’s legendary children might have been worshiped as gods or semi-divine heroes themselves. If Garth Greenhand was worshiped as a god for teaching the First Men to sow, cultivate, and reap, might Gilbert of the Vines have been similarly worshiped by the people of the Arbor for teaching these people “to make sweet wine” from their island’s lush native grapes (and indeed, might there have been some local tradition that Gilbert had inherited his father’s fertility and made these grapes grow “so fat and lush across their island”)? If Garth was treated as a god for his apparently mystical and/or divine ability to bring and cultivate life from the land, might Ellyn Ever-Sweet, Rowan Gold-Tree, and/or Rose of Red Lake have been similarly worshiped by the locals of Beesbury, Goldengrove, and/or Red Lake, respectively, for their supernatural, perhaps also seemingly divine, connections to and power over the natural world? If the earliest worshipers of Garth Greenhand offered him blood sacrifices in return for bountiful harvests, might worshipers have given Bors the Breaker similar blood sacrifices in return for grants of strength and courage, since he himself had supposedly drunk the blood of bulls to gain the power of 20 men? If Garth’s divine power included the gift of specifically sexual fertility so strong that he “[made] barren women fruitful with a touch” and caused “[m]aidens [to ripen] in his presence”, “mothers [to bring] forth twins or even triplets when he blessed them”, and “young girls [to flower] at his smile”, then might Harlon and Herndon have been similarly worshiped for the seeming eternal fertility they apparently enjoyed and represented as husbands to their woods witch wife, or Foss the Archer worshiped as a similar roving fertility god casting a welcome eye on maidens as his father had done (with his arrow and apple exploits perhaps a sort of sexual euphemism)? Again, these are just a few creative examples, but the larger point is that I could very well see where Garth’s children may have been seen not only as extensions of his own legend, but gods in their own right who took over aspects of the worship of Garth Greenhand. (To say nothing of whether any of them might have been worshiped for their own persons and/or deeds - if, say, John the Oak, Owen Oakenshield, and/or Brandon of the Bloody Blade might have been viewed as a sort of proto-Warrior or god of war, or if Maris the Maid became a sort of mother goddess for Oldtown and House Hightower.)
As far as Florys the Fox goes … eh. I think that strict monogamy was not an entirely consistent or mandated practiced among the First Men before the arrival of the Andals, including in the Reach: not only do the myths of both Florys and the twin ancestors of House Tarly feature as their protagonists participants in polygamous (and, indeed, polyandrous) marriages, but King Garland II successfully brought Oldtown into the Gardener kingdom by putting aside his wives, plural, to marry Lymond Hightower’s daughter. Nor indeed should we ignore the fact that Florys seems to have been considered clever not just for having three husbands but for keeping each a secret from the others - a suggestion, perhaps, that the expected (read: patriarchal) order of the universe, playfully subverted by the literally extraordinary Florys, was that a woman should be the submissive partner to a single man, rather than the dominant mistress keeping three men at her nuptial leisure. So I think the pre-Andal Reach may have accepted two beliefs as true at the same time - namely, a patriarchal world in which women were expected to serve and obey men and also a pro-polygamy world in which a demigod/heroine/goddess figure could be lauded for having kept multiple husbands simultaneously without being caught.
Too, I think it’s possible that just as septons and maesters downplayed the mythology and divinity of Garth Greenhand in later accounts - with Yandel noting that legends of Garth Greenhand, “though cherished by the smallfolk, are largely discounted by both the maesters of the Citadel and the septons of the Faith, who share the view that Garth Greenhand was a man, not a god” - so these same post-Andal Invasion academics may have deemphasized the myths surrounding Florys the Fox, including her celebrated polyandry. Perhaps dynastically persnickety maesters or septons argued that Florys had not really been married to three men, but rather that the myths had conflated her marriage to the ancestor of House Ball/Peake/Florent with marriages by other women, or perhaps remarriages by Florys, to the ancestors of the other two Houses. Perhaps the myth was bowdlerized to have Florys merely be courted by the founders of each of these Houses, rather than having her marrying each, with Florys perhaps then serving as more of a spiritual or romantic ancestress rather than a literal matriarch of this bloodline. Of course, it’s also possible that septons did look down on and preach against Florys for her polygamous marriages, branding her a “wanton” - though to what extent they could or would do so, while also looking to convert these powerful aristocratic families of the Reach, is speculative at best.
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Cyberchase - Revising Digit's Backstory (part 1)
I recently posted a character analysis of Digit from Cyberchase. During that analysis, I said that I had some problems with some inconsistencies in his backstory and some plot points that didn't make much sense.
Here's a brief review
According to "How it All Started", Digit defied The Hacker at every opportunity. When The Hacker stole Motherboard's encryptor chip and locked it in a vault, Digit retrieved it and let Motherboard know what happened.
This led directly to The Hacker's banishment.
However, The Hacker took Digit along with him, and somehow, neither Motherboard nor Dr. Marbles realized what had happened.
Digit went on to build the Grim Wreaker, clearly upset to still be with The Hacker. He works for him out of fear.
Later on, Digit witnessed The Hacker turning off the power to Cybersite Valussa.
He betrays Hacker for the second time, sending a coded message to let Valussa know how to turn the power back on.
He saves Valussa, but he is captured by The Hacker.
He breaks free and finishes his defection to Motherboard.
So, I have a few problems with this origin story. How did neither Dr. Marbles nor Motherboard realize that The Hacker abducted Digit? Where was Motherboard when The Hacker took over Valussa? Remember that this is the prequel, so Motherboard is still at full power, prior to the virus.
Additionally, Season 1 Episode 1 appears to contradict this backstory. Digit is deeply ashamed to have worked for The Hacker. He credits Motherboard with having rescued him and set him straight. He claims that if she hadn't done that, he would still be making chaos with The Hacker.
What does Digit have to be ashamed of here? The two times we see him around The Hacker's plans in the prequel comic, he single-handedly ruins them. It's one thing for Season 12 Episode 8 "Hacker Hugs a Tree" to come along over 18 years after the prequel comic and retcon Hacker's banishment story. However, it is another thing for Season 1 Episode 1 "Lost My Marbles" to come along 1 month after the prequel comic and retcon Digit's backstory.
Later on, Digit goes to do some undercover work for Motherboard. He tells Hacker that he wants to rejoin his group and help him find Ivanka's secret to invincibility.
If all Digit ever did was foil The Hacker's plans, then why would The Hacker believe him here? No, there has to be something more to the story. Digit must have willingly done some chaos back in the day.
I have an idea for a revised backstory that ties things up a little neater. I do need to alter some minor points here and there, but most of the content remains intact.
So, here's my revised backstory.
On Arbor Day of 1999, Digit is born. Hacker constructs him from a box of parts. He is his greatest creation, with a built-in immunity to magnetite and a beak capable of unlocking doors and drilling through everything.
At this time, The Hacker is still Motherboard's faithful helper. He may have dreams of what he could do with the Transformatron, but he isn't at the point where he's trying to take over Cyberspace. He also hasn't harmed Coop and Slider yet.
Digit grows up in Control Central. He witnessed The Hacker save Motherboard from the magnetite meteorite of Y2K. His creator is a stand-up guy, so Digit follows in his footsteps. He is also helpful to Motherboard.
The Hacker and Coop have their falling-out. The Hacker wants to use their Transformatron invention to take over Cyberspace. Coop defies him by tearing up the plans, and The Hacker damages Coop with magnetite. Coop goes into hiding to find a cure, and Slider is left to grow up alone. However, Digit is not aware of it. Some things are just too personal to talk about.
And then, one night, The Hacker shows a side that Digit was unaware of. He steals the Encryptor Chip from Motherboard. Digit knows that this is all wrong, and he voices his opposition. However, The Hacker doesn't listen.
Digit retrieves the Encryptor Chip and returns it to Motherboard.
Digit is worried about upsetting The Hacker further. As such, he takes pictures of The Hacker without him noticing and submits them anonymously. The evidence is irrefutable, but neither Motherboard nor Dr. Marbles know it came from him at this point. Sure, with enough time to think about it, they would realize that Digit was the only other person there, so he was the only one who could have done it. However, they fail to realize this at the time.
The Hacker has two more pieces of information that neither Dr. Marbles nor Motherboard have. First, he knows that Digit was opposed to his theft of the Encryptor Chip. Second, he knows that Digit witnessed him hiding the Encryptor chip in the secret vault. He knows immediately that Digit has betrayed him. However, he also knows that he's about to be banished for his crime. If he pushes Digit away, then Digit will defect to Motherboard. If he dismantles Digit, then he is all alone. And so, The Hacker stops himself from confronting Digit.
Sure enough, Motherboard decrees that The Hacker will be banished for his crimes. His power supply will be downgraded, and he will be sent away in a remote-controlled Cyberpod.
Digit still cares about The Hacker. He knows that what The Hacker did was wrong, and he knows that he did the right thing by retrieving the chip. However, he believes that Motherboard's punishment is going too far. As such, he is torn between wanting to continue helping Motherboard and going into exile with The Hacker.
The Hacker ends up making the choice for him, as he grabs Digit and hides him in the pod. Digit ends up following him to the Northern Frontier.
At first, neither Dr. Marbles nor Motherboard realize that Digit was abducted. They've had a busy, emotional day after all. They do realize that he is gone later on. Since he was built by The Hacker as an assistant, they assume that he remained loyal to his boss and followed him into exile. Dr. Marbles remembers Digit's beak-related abilities and magnetite immunity. He wants to go after him before he can aid The Hacker. However, Motherboard stops him. If Digit has made his choice, then they have no right to take him back by force. Neither of them realize that Digit betrayed The Hacker and saved Motherboard. Neither of them realize that Digit was on their side, and that it is unlikely that he went with The Hacker willingly.
Digit continues to work with The Hacker in the Northern frontier. At this point, all The Hacker has is the remnants of his Cyberpod, the clothes on his back, and anything he can scavenge from the Northern Frontier. They manage to reconfigure the pod into a small, slow, form of transport to be able to leave The Northern Frontier. The Northern Frontier is shown here on this map of Cyberspace.
This map isn't the best quality, but if we turn our viewpoint a little, we can see three sites clustered around the Northern Frontier. First, there is a light-green site to the south-west that appears to have a solitary tower or windmill on it. Second, there is a dark green site to the south that has a forest on it. Third, there is a an orange site to the south-east that has a city on it.
While The Hacker still wants to take over Cyberspace, he knows that he cannot do it while Motherboard remains at full power. He needs time and money to build his Grim Wreaker ship, create his virus, and hunt for the pieces of the Transformatron blueprints. His best bet is the city to the south-east.
While it goes unnamed here, and it doesn't have recognizable landmarks of a Cybersite visited during the show, I am going to say that it is a stylized depiction of Cybersite Valussa.
The Hacker still only has Digit at this point. So, he has to be more hands-on with this plan. He also knows that Motherboard cannot be made aware of his return yet. So, he has to participate in his plan under a disguise like this one.
The Hacker decides to rob an armored truck heading to Valussa's main bank. He flips his makeshift transport over and plays the part of a stranded motorist. Under Motherboard's eye, crime is rare, reserved only for major players like Zorgon the Evil Wizard. Therefore, the armoured truck drivers see no problem in parking the truck and coming to help Madame Incognita.
While The Hacker distracts them, Digit is instructed to drill into the bottom of the armored car and take the Snelfus. Digit is conflicted about this. However, since he's been seemingly banished from Control Central alongside The Hacker, he is his only friend in the world. The Hacker reassures him that the bank's money is insured, so nobody who put their money in the bank will be harmed. He also reassures him that he won't have to hurt the drivers. So, it should be a victimless crime, right? It isn't like stealing Motherboard's Encryptor Chip and causing her to be unable to function. The Hacker is lying here, as there definitely is a victim, but Digit is naive. The heist is successful, partly due to The Hacker running out of power and fainting. The armored car drivers assist him, and they suspect nothing.
While the first armored car isn't enough to built the Grim Wreaker, it is enough to buy a small Cybercoupe and enable Hacker and Digit to have a greater range of travel in Cyberspace. It also gives The Hacker his first opportunity to rig up a recharger system for his internal battery. They proceed with the same armored car crimes on other sites. Many times, the armored cars are already rusted, and Digit's efforts to break them open cause them to fall apart. Many of their crimes are dismissed as the armored cars having fallen apart due to metal fatigue. Given that multi-Cybersite crime waves have never happened before, even those armored cars that were obviously tampered with are believed to be the result of local small-time criminals. Hacker resists the urge to leave a calling card, so there's little to link the crimes together. Digit has misgivings, of course. Motherboard and Dr. Marbles would never approve of this. Still, with no sign of rescue coming to get him away from The Hacker, Digit starts to resent them both.
On the way home from one of the heists, while The Hacker is making a big production about praising Digit for the wealth he has brought them, Digit breaks down and admits that he retrieved the Encryptor Chip and ruined The Hacker's life. The Hacker reveals that he knew all along about what happened and makes a big show about forgiving Digit for his crime. This successfully manipulates Digit. He remembers how he saved Motherboard. He remembers how The Hacker was banished, and how he opposed the decision. He remembered how he ended up banished alongside The Hacker as his "reward" for saving him. Motherboard never came to get him back either. But now, The Hacker, the person that he ruined to save Motherboard, is forgiving him and offering him a chance to start over.
And now, Digit is on board.
The Hacker has enough money to purchase the Botoplis kits to build Buzz and Delete, along with a proper recharger chair.
However, he doesn't have nearly enough money to build the Grim Wreaker. He could just keep robbing armored cars, but that would result in so many empty armored cars, that someone would start connecting the dots. He could start robbing businesses, but that would raise the risks of getting caught to grab even less money. Plus, Valussa is still too close to Control Central for comfort. No, The Hacker needs to do something big, and he needs to go to a Cybersite as far from Control Central as possible. And so, The Hacker plans a heist on the Cybersite farthest to the East, Gollywood. He's going to break the biggest bank in Cyberspace.
The Hacker will soon be 9,000,000 Snelfus richer.
I'm at the image limit, so I need to make a part 2.
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For Bucky's birthday, I thought I'd post 11 fics I've written that are some of my favorites when it comes to writing Bucky. Enjoy! 🥰
First to Fall | Rated: G | WC: 1K | Canon Divergence, Love at First Sight, Crack Treated Seriously | Summary: Bucky meets a handsome dreamboat named Sam under some strange circumstances. He thinks it went well, though. | AO3 |
Cute Aggression | Rated: G | WC: 1K | Drunk Bucky, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Established Relationship | Summary: Inspired by "when bf gives you cute aggression" by sumbacky on tumblr: Bucky is drunk. Sam is too cute. He has to squish Sam's face. | AO3 |
How Had He Not Seen It Sooner? | Rated: E | WC: 6.4K | Hurt/Comfort, Bi Realization, Something Angsty Comes this Way | Summary: The one where Bucky has a bi realization when Sam gets hospitalized during a mission. | AO3 |
A House-Trained White Wolf, Looking For a Home | Rated: M | WC: 3.9K | Touch-Starved, Family Fluff, Co-Workers to Friends to Lovers | Summary: Bucky Barnes wasn't sure what he was doing when he knocked on Sarah's front door. All he knew was that being near Sam felt right. | AO3 |
Nice | Rated: T | WC: 3.1K | Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Literally Sleeping Together, Didn't Know They Were Dating | Summary: Based on the fanart piece "nice" by @sumbacky , Bucky has a mostly uneventful night at the Wilson household as he waits for Sam to come home from a mission. | AO3 |
Leap of Faith | Rated: M | WC: 3.6K | Mission Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions | Summary: Bucky sees Sam fall. | AO3 |
Totally Would Kiss Him | Rated: E | WC: 2.8K | College AU, Costume Party, Crack Treated Seriously | Summary: Bucky Barnes would totally kiss Sam Wilson. But, alas. Bucky's straight. And Sam is too. | AO3 |
Kind of a Big Deal | Rated: M | WC: 8.7K | No Powers AU, Passover Romcom, Getting Together | Summary: Sam is Bucky's next door neighbor, his best friend... possibly Bucky's crush. Bucky has been good about keeping those feelings hidden. That is, until Sam kisses Bucky before Passover Seder. Now, they both must figure out what they mean to each other. | AO3 |
And I Love Him Too | Rated: E | WC: 5.8K | Secret BuckyQuest Side Story, Sugar Daddy, Two Buckys | Summary: Sam goes on dinner dates with a mysterious donor which are... just dinner dates? With a tablet. Just him in a restaurant dressed nice, eating alone as he has a conversation with someone via tablet. It makes sense, though, after he tracks down who the mysterious donor actually is. | AO3 |
Buffy Burnes Ph.D. the Scientific Illustrator Roommate | Rated: M | WC: 5.1K | Getting to Know Each Other, Crack Treated Seriously, Strangers to Friends to Lovers | Summary: Sam decides to take a break from Avengers business after Age of Ultron. He puts out an ad for a roommate on Craigslist for his new apartment in Delacroix. He gets one response from a "Dr. Buffy Burnes". | AO3 |
All I Want for Arbor Day is You, Baby! | Rated: M | WC: 4.2K | Fluff and Crack, Kissing, Getting Together | Summary: Or, the seven times Bucky and Sam could write off kisses and the one where they have to admit their feelings for one another. | AO3 |
#sambucky#sam wilson#bucky barnes#sambucky fic#sambucky fic recs#happy birthday bucky barnes#my fics
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christened nothing
i had a dream about this creature from Faith, but I don't remember if I ever posted about the dream online, so here's my tidbits:
The dream followed John wandering through a dark house, consistently muttering to himself under his breath. Gradually he became so panicked he was shouting, asking for help.
He walked through a door and became this creature, still shouting in desperation, but it seemed that he wouldn't be coherent to anyone but himself. There was a long hallway lined with the stick-dolls and it was apparent that Garcia was looking for him, presumably to kill him. There was a feeling of reluctant doom and terror.
This creature was specifically called The Nothing which I thought was interesting. Something that is so utterly nothing, so as to be named that, and yet being defined by that, given the title "The", its nothingness is so remarkable and defining so as to be something.
I didn't even know that this creature had any sort of name until I stumbled upon its Fandom page. (it's called The Wretch, which isn't much better...)
#faith#faith game#dreams#fortis arbor's art#digital#ms paint#image described#where would we be without silly text or song lyrics pasted over art. NOWHERE!!#under the read-more you can see me talk abt the dream this was based on if that tickles u.
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by Adam Kredo
Kamala Harris's newly appointed head of Arab-American outreach once accused Zionists of "controlling" American politics, echoing an anti-Semitic trope that suggests Jews nefariously manipulate global affairs.
"The Zionists have a strong voice in American politics," Brenda Abdelall, an Egyptian-American lawyer and former Department of Homeland Security official, said in a 2002 interview with the New York Sun while attending the American Muslim Council's annual convention. "I would say they're controlling a lot of it."
Abdelall, whom Harris tapped earlier this week to help galvanize Arab voters, made the remarks after a speaker at the event, anti-Israel professor Jamil Fayez, said that "Zionists are destroying America." Responding to his remarks, Abdelall said that while "'destroying' is a harsh word," supporters of the Jewish state do control American politics.
The American Muslim Council's 2002 confab also provided attendees with a chance to meet anti-Semitic former congresswoman Cynthia McKinney (D., Ga.), who famously blamed Jews for the 9/11 terror attack and attended a 2009 Holocaust-denial gathering in London. Her father similarly blamed Jews when she lost her congressional seat shortly after the 2002 conference. "Jews have bought everybody. Jews. J-E-W-S," he said.
Abdelall's appointment comes as Harris works to appease members of her party's liberal flank who want her to more aggressively confront the Jewish state and undermine its war on Hamas, including by cutting off arms sales. Harris has praised pro-Hamas campus protesters as "showing exactly what the human emotion should be, as a response to Gaza." In March, she accused Israel of stoking "humanitarian catastrophe."
Abdelall joins several other Harris campaign advisers who have a history of pressuring Israel and advocating increased relations with Iran. They include Harris's national security adviser, Phil Gordon, who is the subject of a congressional probe into his ties to a member of an Iranian government influence network. Ilan Goldenberg, Harris's liaison to the Jewish community, has faced scrutiny for his ties to the anti-Israel group J Street, as well as championing closer ties to Tehran.
Harris also appointed a veteran Israel critic, the Rev. Jen Butler, to conduct outreach to the faith community. Butler has come under fire for working alongside anti-Semitic activist Linda Sarsour.
Abdelall also is a veteran of the anti-Israel advocacy world.
During the 2002 American Muslim Council event, she suggested that the election defeat of former congressman Earl Hilliard Sr. (D., Ala.) "shows the Jewish influence in politics," according to the Sun. At the time, Hilliard had faced criticism from pro-Israel groups for voting against a congressional resolution condemning Palestinian suicide bombers.
Abdelall's mother founded the American Muslim Council's Ann Arbor branch, helping the anti-Israel advocacy group expand its presence across the country, according to the Sun.
The Harris campaign defended Adelall, saying that as a DHS official, she "worked closely on the implementation of the country's first National Strategy to Counter Antisemitism" and "led efforts for the first United We Stand summit, a White House event to counter hate-fueled violence."
"We are proud to add her to the campaign."
The American Muslim Council has long courted controversy for spreading anti-Israel propaganda.
In 2003, Rep. Jerry Nadler (D., N.Y.) blasted the group's former executive director, Eric Erfan Vickers, for claiming "that the recent tragic loss of the Space Shuttle Columbia and its entire crew was an act of divine retribution against Israel, and attributable to the presence of the first Israeli astronaut on the mission."
Vickers at the time said he saw "a sign in the calamitous destruction of the one hundred and thirteenth space shuttle mission taking place over a city named Palestine, while on board was the first Israeli astronaut." Nadler described the remarks as "unthinkable."
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All this tree imagery… Cecil’s dad reappearing…Kevin returning…
I was doing a relisten to Gershwin’s (as many as I can remember he was in) and Kevin’s episodes and I noticed something in Mudstone Abyss Part 2.
During his date with Charles, Kevin mentions something very interesting to me. He says “we were both raised in the Arboreal faith”
That. That doesn’t exist. Or I couldn’t find any faith at the very least. Funnily enough, when I looked it up, it was about tree symbolism in the Bible from an article called “Arboreal Theology”
To summarize, there is a lot of interesting tree symbolism in the Bible, and it may or may not have connections to what’s happening this… Season? Year? Arc?? I don’t know how Night Vale episodes are organized anymore… I’m also not very smart when it comes to predicting how this show is gonna go.
Anyway, Kevin pointing out that he and Charles were both raised Arboreally makes me think Kevin will be a lot more connected to the whole Gershwin thing than we think. More than that though—
CHARLES!! HE COULD COME BACK!!!! Or not, Frinknor probably forgot he existed— or he’s dead—
#I WANT CHARLES TO COME BACK PLEASE IM DESPERATE#wtnv#kevin wtnv#gershwin wtnv#charles the theologist#welcome to night vale
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Euron's Master Plan
something i recently realized about euron is that he wasnt always this unhinged. like, we know that he raped aeron and urri when they were kids, and that he has a crew of mutes with ships whose floors are painted red to hide the blood, and has raided all across essos, but the full-blown magically unhinged i-bring-forth-the-doom part of his character we see in affc and the forsaken is, by all indications a more recent shift. specifically it seems to have occurred after euron captured the four qartheen warlocks who were sailing to find daenerys and after he took their shade-of-the-evening, granting him visions that spur his actions in the main plot. so what is euron's grand master plan? lets see what his main actions were so far
Step 1. Hire a faceless man to kill your brother by giving the house of black and white a dragon egg (?)
Step 2. Get elected at the kingsmoot because you bribed everyone with gold and bcz all your competition is way tooo normal for the Iron Islands
Step 3. Capture your priest brother and a bunch of other priests of various faiths and lock them up in the bowels of your ship. This will come in handy later
Step 4. Give your other brother a dragonhorn, some ships, a suspicious mute woman, and a mission to fuck off eastward (to not bother you) and subtly hint to him that he can totally use the dragonhorn for himself and there wont be any negative repercussions ohh nooo
Step 5. Conquer the Shield Islands as a morale boost for your troops and as a launching point for capturing Oldtown. Impregnate Falia Flowers and let your unborn child grow for a few months
Step 6. Lure the redwyne and hightower fleet into the straits between the arbor and the reach, making them think theyve encircled you (parallel to when stannis actually did catch you in the straits in the greyjoy rebellion 10 years ago)
Step 7. Sacrifice the priests and Falia in an orgiastic blood ritual that will awaken krakens from the sea in order to defeat the reach fleet and leave westeros undefended by sea
Step 8. ???
Step 9. Take the iron throne
So it seems like euron's trigger for constructing his master plan was the discovery of the warlocks and him finding out about daenerys. euron wants to remake the world in his image according to the forsaken chapter, and for that he needs great power. so it seems like his plan is to use magic--the armor of valyria, of oldtown, and of dragons--to conquer the iron throne (at least based on aeron's visions in the discarded Forsaken chapter of Winds of Winter)
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Codex entry: Untranslatable Elven Writing
This veilfire script was hidden in the Arbor Wilds. It's so old it cannot be translated into any known language.
"There are whispers from the Well of Sorrows. It's impossible to understand the entire text, but certain parts suddenly reveal a shadow of their original meaning.
"We are trapped. The ones born here do not understand the keenness of what we have lost, or why so many of their elders weep as they enter uthenera. The new ones are faithful to Mythal, but do not understand what she was in her fullness. Without the wise to lead them, they will lose what they should have been.
I will teach them. They must serve. We must prepare for those who cast Mythal down. I shed my name the day I began her service. I shed my new one again, now that she rests. I will only be known by the sorrow that cuts my heart."
For a moment, there is a feeling of wrenching loss. Then it fades."
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𝘈𝘙𝘊 𝘐𝘐, 𝖶𝖠𝖱 𝖥𝖮𝖱 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖣𝖠𝖶𝖭 : 𝗮 𝘀𝗼𝗳𝘁 𝗲𝗽𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘂𝗲.
deep in the records, hidden within the books and papers that are to be included in the hallowed history of the land — exists a list of names, written in the hand of grand maester barris, himself:
liege lysen stark, second sibling to the ruling lord theon stark of winterfell — perished after being crushed by the fallen walls lady alerie tyrell, third child of the ruling lord garth tyrell of highgarden — killed as she ran out from the castle, burnt by dragonfire in the keep grounds kusa dagareon, the imperial crown prince of essos — fallen from the eastern tower maegor, royal dragon mount of the prince of dragonstone — drowned in the narrow sea during the siege of king's landing rhaeys targaryen, the prince of dragonstone — drowned in the narrow sea during the siege of king's landing ser xan d'han, the first sword of braavos — crushed by large stone slabs lady dionira redwyne, second child of ruling lord mattheus redwyne of the arbor — burnt under a melting tapestry ruling lord lorent marbrand of ashemark — suffocated on fumes from dragonfire
many other names were written below them, of knights of the queensguard and the servant girls who tried to wake their mistresses. further unwritten, yet ever present, lay the silent names of all the souls who perished within the city of king's landing.
on another page, yet another list of names. labelled ' in grievous state and notable injuries ' :
rhaeys targaryen, prince of dragonstone - alive, after 2 months coma
lady gysella lannister nee harlaw, ruling lady of casterly rock - abed after notable injuries
prince dantae dagareon of essos - alive, after 2 weeks coma
lady roslin tully of riverrun - abed after notable injuries
daeron targaryen, prince-commander of the faith militants - advanced burns
lady syrenna tully nee arryn, wife of the heir of riverrun - abed after notable injuries
ruling lord theon stark of winterfell - hypothermia, after rescuing the prince of dragonstone
ser theodore baratheon, commander of the queensguard - abed after notable injuries
𝘈𝘙𝘊 𝘐𝘐, 𝖶𝖠𝖱 𝖥𝖮𝖱 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖣𝖠𝖶𝖭 : 𝗮 𝘀𝗼𝗳𝘁 𝗲𝗽𝗶𝗹𝗼𝗴𝘂𝗲.
the nobles found out the full extent of their loved ones' state in the morning after the siege. everything was still in part chaos, and many of the family members merely thought that they were just separated.
' notable injuries ' basically it's your choice on what your characters had experienced ! from broken bones to concussions or having passed out from the fumes but being rescued afterwards, even being knocked out to the point of temporary amnesia ! it would just be something that is cause enough for them to take it easy for a while and be under the supervision of maesters until they get better.
many could see the dragons fighting over the narrow sea from king's landing or dragonstone, and many would be able to notice the volantene flags on some of the ship remnants that washed to shore.
rhaeys targaryen was thought as dead for the first month, however, the queen was quick to dispel those rumours. despite so, she could not hide the fact that his dragon had been slain. the state of the imperial crown prince of essos had been loudly proclaimed as soon as he was discovered.
the queen's court has recently relocated to highgarden, but they were based in dragonstone for the better part of three months as king's landing is being rebuilt. the fortress wasn't equipped to hold the entirety of court, and space was scarce, so the move to highgarden was definitely welcomed.
#death tw#burning tw#semi graphic description be warned#period rp#got rp#hotd rp#westeros.drop#war for the dawn.
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Herexen
Image © Paizo Publishing, accessed at Archives of Nethys here
[As part of PF2e's divesting from the OGL, a number of classic monsters inherited from the 3e Monster Manual and the Tome of Horrors have undergone some branding changes. Ankhegs are ankhravs, treants are arboreals, kytons are velstracs. And huecuvas are now herexens. The name "huecuva" was taken from Mapuche mythology, but the actual entity has nothing to do with undead clerics. And the mechanics of the D&D/PF1e huecuva are a remnant of a Gygaxian-era gotcha encounter--what looked like a kindly cleric infected you with disease by touch--and is weirdly low-intelligence. So I welcome this change to both name and mechanics wholeheartedly.]
Herexen CR 2 NE Undead This person is clearly dead, with rotting skin and half-missing facial features. It wears a holy symbol around its neck, but its talisman has been clearly defaced.
When a cleric forsakes their god before dying, their body may rise again as an undead heretic known as a herexen. Herexens hate the god they once worshipped, and go out of their way to desecrate holy spaces, interrupt festivals and slay adherents of the faith. They may attract necromancers or death cultists with their activities, and some even continue to advance as clerics, albeit turning to the worship of some demon lord, god of undeath or similar fell power. Herexens may be found as lone predators, or gathered together into parodies of worshipful congregations. In numbers, herexens often engage in cruel parodies of liturgical ceremonies.
A herexen focuses its attacks on divine spellcasters, especially those that worship the god that they once did. A formerly sacred weapon in their hands becomes a tool against all servants of the divine. Herexens are capable of using some clerical magic, thematically similar to that of the god they once followed. They can also inflict negative energy with a touch, which they use to both harm others and to heal themselves or any undead they may have allied with. When slain, a herexen explodes in a burst of negative energy.
Herexen CR 2 XP 600 NE Medium undead Init +2; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +9 Defense AC 14, touch 12, flat-footed 12 (+2 Dex, +2 natural) hp 18 (2d8+9) Fort +3, Ref +2, Will +7 Immune undead traits Offense Speed 30 ft. Melee slam +3 (1d4+3) or masterwork dagger +4 (1d4+2 plus blasphemous strike) Special Abilities death throes Spell-like Abilities CL 2nd, concentration +5 7/day—bleeding touch (1 round) 3/day—inflict light wounds (DC 14) 1/day—cause fear (DC 14) Statistics Str 14, Dex 15, Con -, Int 11, Wis18, Cha 17 Base Atk +1; CMB +3; CMD 15 Feats Toughness Skills Disguise +8, Knowledge (religion) +9, Perception +9, Stealth +7; Racial Modifiers +4 Knowledge (religion) Languages Common, Necril SQ blasphemous focus (Death domain, dagger) Ecology Environment any Organization solitary, pair or congregation (3-12) Treasure standard (defiled holy symbol, masterwork dagger, other treasure) Special Abilities Blasphemous Focus (Ex) All herexens are tied to the god that they worshiped and abandoned in life. This grants them access to a single domain or subdomain of their god (aside from the Good or Healing domains), from which they can use the 1st level granted powers as a 2nd level cleric, and can use the 1st level domain spell as a spell-like ability 1/day. A herexen loses these abilities if it is not carrying or wearing a defiled holy symbol of that god. A herexen also gains proficiency with that god’s favored weapon. Blasphemous Strike (Su) When wielding the favored weapon of its former god, a herexen deals an additional 1d6 points of damage against extraplanar outsiders or creatures capable of casting divine spells. Its blasphemous strike counts as evil for the purposes of overcoming damage reduction. Death Throes (Su) When a herexen dies, it explodes in a burst of negative energy, dealing 1d6 points of negative energy damage to all creatures in a 30 foot radius (Will DC 14 halves). The save DC is Charisma based.
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