#Maya Angelou defeats and victory

[didierleclair]

LITERATURE AGAINST OPPRESSION

I always thought that the poem Liberté by Paul Eluard symbolized the role of literature. He wrote it in 1942, in the middle of World War II. The story goes that the Vichy censor did not read the entire poem, thinking that it was a love poem. Indeed, the previous title was Une seule pensée. Paul Eluard committed himself with words and risked his life. The poet Robert Desnos was less fortunate and died in a concentration camp.

Cahier d’un retour au pays natal by Aimé Césaire is also a dazzling work. This long text of around forty pages is a cry of rage against colonialism and racism. The book appeared for the first time in 1939. André Breton discovered this work by a surreal coincidence, in a haberdashery in Fort-de-France where he was looking for a ribbon for his daughter, in April 1941. After reading it, he described Césaire as “a great black poet.”

You see, literature has always been a weapon for resistance against tyranny and oppression. It is the most beautiful weapon that human beings have invented. All you need is ink and paper. The damage is never collateral, there are no stray bullets that kill an ally. To be honest, this weapon does not cause any deaths. On the other hand, literature reveals a growing truth. It begins as a sparkling star and ends with a thundering light.

The writer George Orwell left his mark on the public of his time and others long after his death. He described a society that bans discussion, debate and renders citizens incapable of thinking for themselves. Indeed, 1984 struck the minds of readers to the point where the expression “Big brother is watching you” entered contemporary vocabulary. In Orwell's novel we find historical denial, government surveillance and other phenomena decried by today's defenders of freedom.

Pick up a book by Maya Angelou, an African-American poet, I know why the caged bird sings and you will understand that there is unfailing resistance in literature against barbarism, rape, exclusion. The work addresses universal themes through compelling narrative techniques.

The bottom line is that a machine gun, grenade or bomb cannot match literature in the fight against oppression. When we resort to firearms, we admit a form of defeat of intelligence. The act of defending oneself may be legitimate. He who is forced to take up arms is not provocative. On the other hand, anyone who instigates a war is a coward. It is true that someone who defends himself can turn into an attacker. Opportunity makes the thief, that's why it's better never to go to war. It was Jean-Paul Sartre who said: “A victory told in detail; we no longer know what distinguishes it from a defeat”.

Weapons of destruction only cause sadness, desolation, trauma and disappearance. Whereas literature makes you think, cry, laugh without shedding blood. The book arouses astonishment, emotion and admiration. We can be hurt in our self-esteem, offended, even humiliated. That said, your heart still beats and your pride has the opportunity to heal.

Today, even social networks have not been able to defeat literature. Literature resists with e-books. When you go to a public library, you are never alone. The Internet has not killed the novel. It has an impact on the form of the book, but not on the act of telling a story.

The American writer Philip Roth declared the end of the novel. For him, writing stories in a book would become obsolete. In an interview on the website Big Think, the novelist Paul Auster expresses the contrary. He directly takes his colleague to task: “I vigorously oppose it. Human beings need stories, fiction. Humans would not be human beings without a narrative. The novel is such a flexible form. There is no constraint. As much as I admire Philip Roth, I think he's wrong about this."

The big publishing houses, those that dominate the world, know this. They try to impose their champions, their best representatives of world literature, with Nobel Prizes, Bookers and Pulitzers. Why bother promoting writers if literature was no longer worth it? The challenge for these publishers is to maintain control over the choice to read. They don't have talent as a priority. They have their favorites. Some are talented, some are not.

But literature is forging a path that does not always respect the rules established by the main publishers. It has its own compass.

Take Le vieil homme qui lisait des romans d’amour by Chilean novelist Luis Sepulveda. The novel was released in 1989 by a small publishing house in Chile. The editor who took over the book, Anne-Marie Métailié, said that the cover was ugly and the book falling into tatters. When she read it, she felt great joy. Enthusiastic, she wanted to publish this masterpiece with the agreement of the parent company, Le Seuil. But that didn't interest her bosses. “I wrote to 150 booksellers,” she said, to get them interested in the novel. Only 5 said they had read it. Word of mouth from booksellers will force major publishers to give Luis Sepulveda's novel a chance. The first article about this novel was published after selling 36,000 copies.

However, this book is a little gem. This novel denounces the illegal exploitation of gold in the Amazon forest, the barbarity of men towards animals, racism against First Nations. The author dedicated it to an environmental activist.

Why was it so difficult for Madame Métailié to make this masterpiece known? Because there is a publishing elite who dictate to the public what is worth reading.

Those who work in the publishing world can be the oppressors of literature. Indeed, for reasons of prejudice, economic gains, exacerbated nationalism, racism and selfishness, publishers often try to impose mediocre books in place of successful novels. Sometimes they achieve their goals, but these works are quickly forgotten because they are worthless.

We cannot put a gag order on quality literature. It always finds its way. The need for stories is as important as the air we breathe. Literature is linked to our reason for being.

The Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges wrote a book called “The Book of Sand” and he tells us about a book whose pages are endless, like sand. No page is the first, none is the last.

Since we started writing stories, they never end. The novel is not an isolated entity. It is the axis of infinite relationships. This is why the oppressor, wherever he is, cannot put an end to literature. He tries to tame it and give it instructions but the pages of literature are immeasurable.

Literature does as it pleases. It is a flood of words that has no master except the truth. All literary narration, as fictional as possible, is linked to the fundamental reason for our existence. Even though our lives vary, they are always told from the point of view of the one who exists.

Didier Leclair, writer

[adrianodiprato]

+ “Hope and fear cannot occupy the same space. Invite one to stay.” ~ Maya Angelou

Daring Greatly 

I love this famous 1910 quote from Theodore Roosevelt, titled The Man In The Arena:

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

The way I see it is we have two constructs to choose in life – love or fear. One is hope-filled and one is hope-less. The Man In The Arena for mine is about the construct of love – daring greatly by saying yes to self, place and the other, by turning up and actively participating in life abundantly. The construct of fear is represented, in The Man In The Arena, as the critic or spectator. One judges the aspiration of others, often negatively and the other is passive, simply existing instead of living.

We should recognise that life has no boundaries except those imposed by us. Boundaries are a form of definition, nothing more. You move your boundaries when you re-define your purpose and take that step closer to becoming, to daring greatly. 

All revolutionary ideas begin with a farfetched dream, grown from the hope for a better world someday, somewhere. When you’re looking into the night sky feeling hope-less, overwhelmed or even paralysed by the construct of fear for your next step, remember that there are footprints on the moon. 

Choose courage over comfort. Choose love over fear. Choose to be the man (or woman!!) in the arena. Dare greatly. 

This is your moment. You decide. Design your world. 

Adriano Di Prato is a best-selling author, broadcaster and the Academic Operations Manager at LCI Melbourne, a progressive art + design higher education institute. 

[huskeddevotee]

I really wish we could have seen more CoV. For them being our main enemy, they’re hardly a factor in the story. 

You’re never fighting the CoV, you’re fighting Ty and Troy. That worked in BL2, where the bad guy was a CEO and your frontline enemies were just his hapless employees doing as they were told. The Hyperion employees don’t care, they don’t matter - Jack matters, so you only interact with him. 

But the Fanatics are so doped about the idea of maiming you. They want you dead, not just because Tyreen told them to kill you, but they hate your and the Raiders’ guts. The Fanatics are all of the bandit clans that the Vault Hunters cut through like butter, and they want vengeance and to appease their gods.

And we literally never see them. 

We shoot at them. That’s it. That’s our interaction with the CoV. 

We never get to see how they actually feel about the Twins. We don’t get to see in-fighting as the game progresses and people realize they’re full of sh*t, watching their brothers and sisters die by the hundreds and their ‘Gods’ not do anything to save them. We don’t get to see the different bandit clans clash from culture differences. We don’t see how the Twins are worshiped, if the cult is more social media-based or if it’s just a plain cult with social media flair. We don’t get to see why the Twins are worshiped in the first place. In an Echo recording, Ty promises food and shelter and everything people stranded in hell would want.

Does the CoV even provide that?

We don’t know. We don’t see people have food, water, medicine, clean shelter, or anything like that - nothing has changed about the bandits, so why would we think that? It looks like the Twins promised all of those things in the Great Vault. It looks like the CoV was built off of empty promises and people desperate enough to listen. This could have been a fascinating thing to watch and discover, but...no one cared enough to put it in.

And god, you barely get to interact with Tyreen and Troy themselves. Not like how you did with Jack. 

When against Hyperion, you did all kinds of sh*t to tick off Jack that had nothing to do with the main story. You released animals in the Preservation. You blew up their trains and stole their Eridium. You liberated Overlook from Hyperion control. You killed his girlfriend and presumably liberated Lynchwood from Hyperion control. You killed his assassins in Three Horns. You destroyed his Arena, Statues, robots, and infrastructure in Opportunity. 

And all of this felt really god-dang good. The satisfaction of breaking his crap knew no bounds, and still feels so victorious to this day. You developed an actual rivalry with Jack - he wanted you dead not just because you were opposing him, but actually screwing with him on the side that had no effect in the actual war. You were just ruining his art pieces for the fun of it and it made a relationship with Jack. That’s why his boss fight was so personal - you screwed with him, and he bit back at you hard by killing Roland, kidnapping Lilith, and actually achieving his goal of awakening the Warrior. 

Most games would have you never interact with the main antagonist, but still act like you have the relationship of mutual hatred you do with Jack, with none of the effort to actually show and develop that relationship.

Y’know, like they did with Tyreen and Troy. 

The Twins are your only interaction with the CoV beyond shooting CoV. You do nothing to anger them; you can’t, they’re always one step ahead of you. You have no relationship with them beyond “Game says I have to kill them” and the game acts like it’s this bitter rivalry. It acts like you’re constantly causing problems for the CoV, like you’re this huge pain, when the only time you actually do anything is AT THE END OF THE GAME? 

You ‘storm’/walk into the Cathedral and shut off Troy’s Eridium. That’s it. The whole game, you’re fighting Katagawa and Aurelia. Never the CoV, never the Twins. Killing their allies and ‘war meat’ does nothing to actually hurt them. 

And sure, you do things that should, theoretically, hurt them. You kill Mouthpiece. You kill Carnivora. You kill Troy. (And with Troy...usually, you feel smug when avenging a killed character. During that fight, I didn’t even think about Maya until my character mentioned her. Because that is the only thing Troy did, and it was nothing of his own merit. Maya’s death did nothing to build Troy up as dangerous - it was her own stupidity and a plot hole, because someone had to die this game.)

And yet you never seem to touch or interact with the CoV. 

No matter what you do, it never effects them. You are constantly fighting an uphill battle. Even when you kill Troy, you don’t see Tyreen have that tantrum that Jack had. You don’t see the antagonist crack. When Jack started screaming his head off, there was this euphoric rush of satisfaction and bada**ery in my body that made shooting him all the funnier. You’d watched Jack go from a tyrant to a screaming loser in seconds and it felt good. 

Tyreen doesn’t care about Troy dying. He’s mentioned once. Jack mentions Angel multiple times after he death, with a threat that he’s gonna destroy you for killing her. 

Tyreen has no real come-uppance. You don’t actually defeat her. You kill her. You shoot her, then she dies. 

You beat the hell out of Jack, then his Warrior while he bleeds out and watches his defeat play out in front of him, and then he screams and loses his mind as he realizes he lost, and while he tries to deny reality, still insisting on his hero fantasy while literally stomping his foot, he gets shot. 

It’s so satisfying. There’s no grand defeat, no epic battle. He cries like a child and gets shot. It’s everything a corrupt, abusive father like Jack deserves. 

And with Tyreen, she taunts you, then dies. You don’t get a moment of her realizing that she couldn’t stop you, that you were better than her, that she isn’t getting her way like you did with Jack. She just dies. 

You might win, but it doesn’t feel like it. 

[walkswithmyfather]

1. “Never let evil defeat you, but defeat evil with good.” Romans 12:21 (TPT)

2. “Even when bad things happen to the good and godly ones, the Lord will save them and not let them be defeated by what they face.” Psalm 34:19 (TPT)

3. “Through you I’m saved—rescued from every trouble. I’ve seen with my eyes the defeat of my enemies. I’ve triumphed over them all!” Psalm 54:7 (TPT)

4. “We have troubles all around us, but we are not defeated. We do not know what to do, but we do not give up the hope of living. We are persecuted, but God does not leave us. We are hurt sometimes, but we are not destroyed.” 2 Corinthians 4:8‭-‬9 (NCV)

Bad things happen to good people! No one, not even Jesus, had or will have a trouble-free time on Earth. Jesus warned us in John 16:33 that we will have troubles, but to “take heart, because He has overcome the world!” But God won't waste a moment of your troubles. He will use it all for teaching you, growing you, maturing you and bringing glory to Him at the same time as He rescues you. James 1:2 tells us to “count it all joy” when troubles come, because we'll learn perseverance and be stronger Christians; but seriously, how do you do that 24/7? There are times (like how things are in the world at the moment), where smiling and counting it all joy is just not that easy! That's why you need the strength that only Jesus can give! The Bible tells us that Jesus cried sometimes, so you can know that it's okay to cry when you need to. But Jesus was never defeated. He triumphed and ascended victoriously after everything was finished. Friend, now Jesus can give you the strength to get through anything undefeated. You can do anything when you have His strength, because Philippians 4:13 says so! As Maya Angelou says, “You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated. In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats, so you can know who you are, what you can rise from, how you can still come out of it!” At the end, with Jesus' help you'll know who you are in Him. And you'll be victorious! Amen! 🙌

[hydralisk98]

Servitor (ideas dump)

[.]

[..]

Characters

From Olive to Klara

Constans

Maya

Anya

Sasha

Iwa

Nil

Symbol

Places

Video rental store

Cyber cafe

Cafe

Mall

Witch home

D&D basement

Library

Bookstore

Time periods

Intrigues

RL storytime inspirations:

YMCA Summer Student Exchange 2015 aka Kelowna and Kamloops

Jean-Baptiste-Meilleur

College Maisonneuve

2020

CFP des Riverains

Mashups of genres

Mystery + alternate history

Western adventure + roguelike simulation

Fantastical/fantasy adventure + low magick setting

Exploration + nostalgia + time travel

What if-s

You unraveled a old portal fantasy dungeon

You discovered Aperture Science facilities underground

You had retrocognition (and later chronokinesis)

You could influence reality with audio over your subconscious (p.s: true story ahead)

Wilsonism never took hold of USA politics (and lots more intricate details so to make a full TL out of it)

Nazis won the Second World War but does withhold only for a generation (up to ~1963 before collapsing entirely)

Several Earth ppl migrated towards alternate timelines/worlds

A far far future society meet modern Earth

Resistance Fall of Man but instead of the Chimera it is a far far future set of civilizationa that invades Earth

different realities had to brand and sell themselves online to attract themselves some smart people?

Catholic christianity split off significantly further once again?

Venus was being successfully terraformed and colonized by humanity ever since the 1970s as Earth simply ecologically collapses

Pflaummen was founded in 1910 and revolutionized technology forever ever since (IBM time + DEC innovation)

Apocalypse but it is both fast and no fantasy

Alternative path for FPS derivated from BUILD

Alternative development of rogue servitor machines except they actually balance out their benevolence with versatility

Alternative medecine and knowledge keeping development ever since the late 15th century (think index card libraries, DIY slide box toys, gender/shape transformation spells, human computers and sapient constructs)

Arian christianity survives well into the 21st century alongside Hussite faith, coptics and several more early dialects of Abrahamic religions

Scenes to reverse-engineer

Orators' discourse

Some walk in a park

Parsing some code text in a office

Syndicalist riot

Fanfiction derivations

Half-Life 3, but the Combine is utterly defeated (from both outside and from within, so it goes out of relevancy by then)

Portal 2 sequel aka GLaDOS has new and old unexpected comrades to test by and to work alongside

Quake 1 but it's a toybox world to explore and interact with

Hypnospace Outlaw but it's a entirely different world that is portrayed here

SEGA Sonic Racing + SEGA Micro Machines but it's a custom fork of mine

BUILD1+1.5+2 engine game (Duke Nukem + Ion Fury) but it's a entirely different narrative

Bioshock (originals, Infinite, Burial at Sea) + System Shock 2 but the narrative is way more wholesome than the expected dark tone

Zelda 1 but it has a entirely different theme and levels of non-player agents factionalism (think a bit like Mercenaries Playground of Destruction but 2D)

Alien the 8th passenger, but instead of the Alien it is simply a Greater German political and military regulation unit shutting down a underground dungeon a bit like in XCOM Ennemy Unknown as the Nazi victory world simply is collapsing around them

Terminator ~1+3+5, but all the machine killers are all reprogrammed to kill Woodrow Wilson just before the election starts in 1912 by a autistic Zerg overmind

Multimedia assets

Animals

Humans

Constructs

Demons

Angels

Buildings

Vehicles

Generic symbols

Specific use symbols

Programming symbols

Latin letters

Arabic numerals

Terrain

Cyrillic letters

Greek letters

Furniture

Stationery

Books

Pawns

Furries

Electric props

Military units

Overhead worldmap symbols

Mechnical props

Decoration material

Blocks and curved things

Retro computing stuff

Computing stuff

Sci-Fi stuff

Fantasy stuff

Clothes

Accessories

Pseudo-graphics

[the-everlasting-dream]

The Revelation, Chapter 14 - TRR AU

Summary: Drake and Elizabeth meet face to face finally. 

A/N: Surprise another chapter, I’ll have you know I’ve scrapped the rest of the plot to this series so from now on this is pure spitballing so for those of you still with me, lets do this. 

Word Count: 3000+

Warnings: Language, slight violence, mentions of blood and injury

MASTERLIST

-

‘I’m gonna call to check on Bartie then I’ll be back,’ Savannah informed her brother sitting on the hospital bed. 

 Barely hearing his sister stepping out to take a call, Drake sighed once again, eyes flicking to the ceiling, studying the white plaster mounted above his head. He’d passed out after the duel, after the significant blood loss he’d sustained from Neville’s cut to his side. The deep cut had gotten infected despite the medical attention he’d received. Under Savannah’s careful supervision, he’d taken the prescribed antibiotics and the infection was subsiding. You should be able to resume normal activity with supplementary physiotherapy sessions for that shoulder, they’d informed him after the latest check up. 

By all rights, he should be fine. He should be okay, more than okay in fact. First man to win a duel in a hundred years they told him. You should be celebrating they said. You should be proud of yourself. 

But why did he feel so numb?

Never in his life had Drake felt so… listless. As if he’d lost the will to move, to breathe, to do anything.. At first the pain, though it hurt like hell was a welcome distraction from her. Elizabeth… Her name still pierced him every time it crossed his mind more often than it should have. He was missing her so much… No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get rid of those thoughts, couldn’t stop them from creeping into his mind again. He’d tried to force her out of his head, but it seemed impossible. His victory over Neville had only confirmed that. At Hana’s insistence, he’d done it, he’d kept fighting, fighting for her and when he had won, when they were showering him in praises and honours, he’d realised that the only prize he’d wanted was to see her again. During the fight, a tiny part of him had naively been hoping that she’d miraculously be there and naturally when Elizabeth wasn't, his spirit plummeted. 

‘You will face many defeats in life, but never let yourself be defeated.’ 

Jackson Walker’s rendition of Maya Angelou’s words echoed back to Drake now as he continued to stare out the hospital room window, looking out at what he could see of the Cordonian citadel stretched out beneath him. He’d held those words close to his heart all through his life, recalling how his dad had told him that after a particularly gruelling day at school. His father had made him promise him that no matter what life threw at him, even though he’d get knocked down, he’d always get back up. When Jackson had passed away, Drake silently resolved to honour his father’s memory in that. And so far, he’d kept his promise fiercely until now…   

His chest ached now where the bullet had torn through it, a visceral reminder of what he’d had and lost. A deepset tiredness filtered through him. He was tired, so tired of feeling this way, of fighting constantly only to be constantly let down. I’m sorry Dad. Drake thought to himself, feeling a profound sense of shame and regret. This time, this time its too much… He couldn’t go on like this, to hope and to pray for a sign that was never going to arrive. This was the moment that Drake Walker gave up.

Almost as if fate had answered his call, Drake heard the door swing open. Assuming it was his sister, he ignored her, barely turning his head in favour of continuing to stare out the window at leaves blowing by in the wind. 

‘If you’ve come to lecture me again Sav you can save it,’ he snapped backhandedly. 

 ‘Its… its not Savannah.’ 

 At the sound of her voice, Drake whipped his head around so fast, the nerve in his neck tinged painfully but he was too distracted by the sight of the one person he’d given up on seeing for the rest of his life. 

 ‘Elizabeth!? W-w-what? How?’ 

What… what were the chances of her showing up so… just when he was ready to give up��� 

 ‘Hey Drake,’ her voice was small and smile even smaller as she stood in the doorway, hesitating. 

 ‘You’re back.’ It come out somewhere between a question or a statement but Drake was too busy trying to still the butterflies in his stomach as he scrambled into a sitting position. 

 ‘Uh.. yeah, I’m back.’ She shifted uncomfortably on her feet, hands wrung in a tense knot. 

 A million questions buzzed in his mind yet his tongue failed to articulate even one as he sputtered visibly at the sight of her, same dark hair twisted into a loose braid, grey cardigan, jeans and a t-shirt hanging on her slim frame he knew so well and at the same time not at all. Amidst his negotiation to settle into a comfortable, his arm missed the edge of the bed and threatened to send him crashing down to the floor. At the last second he managed to catch himself on the bed frame but not without a pain lancing through him so sharp, his vision tinged red.

Before he could register it, Elizabeth was by his side, helping to prop him back up on the bed. As she moved to position his pillow, Drake couldn’t take his eyes off her hand where it rested on his arm, her skin warm against his for the first time in months seemed to seep through him to his chest where a little spark of hope was rekindled.  

‘What happened?’ Elizabeth scanned the sight of him, a tiny crease between her eyebrows telling him she was thinking hard with that medical science degree of hers, assessing him closely. 

 ‘I..uh….’ 

How was he supposed to tell her he got stabbed? Drake glanced at her determined face and nodded slightly, knowing he shouldn’t lie to her. 

‘After I passed out… after the duel… Neville’s stab… it wasn’t very deep but coz of the crowds at the ball, the ambulance took a lot longer to get… to get to me. They told me I bled a lot, almost bled out, used some big fancy word like ex-extrasink-‘ 

‘Exsanguination,’ she put in, her expression still calculating. 

 ‘Yeah that,’ Drake gulped, dropping his gaze to the blanket cover his lap, resisting the urge to scratch at the sound under the bandages, a constant urge he fought to curb. ‘Anyway I guess I should count myself lucky that that bastard can swing a sword but he didn’t have any force behind the blow. Since it was on the side and not in the middle, its not too bad I think…’ 

‘You’re extremely lucky it didn’t hit any major organs.’ 

He nodded once. 'Got infected for a bit but they gave me something for that and it seems to be working, I guess...'

‘Its still an abdomen wound,’ she rationalised, eyes sweeping across him again. ‘They’re always tough to recover from because they’re in the middle of the body and you can’t just pop it in a sling like a broken leg. You must have had trouble breathing and eating and peeing and p-’ 

‘Yeah that’s been rough,’ Drake cut her off, feeling the top of his ears burn red hot in embarrassment. He shifted again, wincing as he tried to try alleviate the discomfort where the bandage was digging into his ribs. 

Elizabeth noticed immediately, concern flooding back into her expression. ‘You’re not comfortable. Do you need me to call the nu-‘ 

‘Its fine,’ he cut her off, loathe to cause a whole scene. ‘Just this stupid bandage is twisted.’ 

She swallowed once. For the first time in months, those brown eyes lifted up to meet his own and he couldn’t help a sharp inhale of breath. ‘I can take a look if you want?’

Drake eyed her for a moment, conflicted but eventually he gave in. ‘Sure that would be great actually.’ 

It was a bit of a challenge to wrestle the hospital gown up while preserving his modesty but they made it work and as soon as Elizabeth’s cool hands touched his side, he hissed a little, not expecting the contact. 

’Sorry,’ she gave him an apologetic look before leaning down to peer at his wound. 

As she fiddled with the bandage, he marvelled at the level of care and concern she was showing him. He had no idea what state her memory was in but he couldn’t deny his own feelings, having her here next to him was so inexplicably right he couldn’t explain it. The spark of hope flared up in his chest.. Maybe they- Suddenly the tiny irritating pain in his side ceased. 

 ‘Better?’ 

He wiggled experimentally and found that the pain had subsided and he could breathe properly again. ‘Much. Thank you.’

‘It was nothing.’

She helped him adjust his clothes again, sitting on the edge of the bed for a moment as Drake took in the sigh of her again, unable to believe she was even here. With her sitting so near, hand inches away from his, close enough to reach out and- 

Elizabeth glanced down abruptly clearing her throat as she realised how close they were and wrapped her cardigan tighter around herself, almost as a shield between them. Her gaze slid hesitantly up to his before dropping to the floor. A hundred things were on the tip of his tongue, burning questions he had wanted to ask for the last few months but he couldn’t bring himself to vocalise any of them. Just as he was mustering up the courage to say something, Elizabeth spoke, her voice quiet and unsteady. 

 ‘You could have died Drake.’ 

 ‘Elizabeth…’ Her name felt both foreign and familiar on his tongue after months of disuse. he wanted to say mo-

‘Why did you do it? Why did you do it Drake?’ She questioned. ‘Why did you accept Neville's challenge?' 

A long, deep sigh escaped him as he struggled to find some explanation. 'I had to Richmond... I had to for you. For Savannah, for my dad, for every commoner they’ve ever looked down on. Saying yes was the only chance I had to prove him wrong about all of this. To fight him on his own terms... It was a stupid idea,’ he continued, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. ‘For a moment there, I almost didn’t make it.’

‘Drake..’ 

Her voice was wobbly as her mouth shaped his name and he knew tears were not far away. This time he did reach for her hand, grasping it between his fingers until she was looking him deep in the eyes. 

‘It was you Richmond… Elizabeth.. I thought of you. I did it for you. Even if you don’t remember��� even if you don’t love me… Elizabeth I-‘ 

She tugged her hand away from his suddenly, he gasped at the break in contact before his eyes strayed to her face where he could see her withdrawing further into herself… and away from him. He opened his mouth to speak, to say something, anything that would bring her back to him when the door suddenly slammed open, the sound shattering whatever headway they’d made. 

 ‘Dra-Oh!’ Savannah’s grey eyes blew wide open at the sight of her. ‘Elizabeth…’ It was obvious how her tone immediately soured. 'I didn’t know you were back.’

‘Uh.. yeah. Hi Savannah,’ Elizabeth mumbled, standing up to quickly she almost tripped. 'Yeah well… I was just leaving actually.’

Drake watched his younger sister’s face morph into a disgusted look. ‘So soon? You look like you just got here… What made you come back?’ She snapped, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared the other woman down. 

 ‘Yeah,’ he put in, finally questioned, curiosity deep in his voice. They’d had no contact since she left. How had she known where he was? 

‘The duel…’ Elizabeth replied, swallowing thickly acutely aware of both their invasive gazes before continuing. 'I heard you got hurt and I… needed to make sure you were okay. Liam said-‘ 

‘Liam?’ 

‘Yeah he came to my brother’s apartment-‘ 

‘He came New York?’ Drake’s brain raced to put the pieces together. The night of the duel brought back so many unpleasant memories but through it all he remembered that Liam hadn’t been there. During at the Costume ball… Maxwell had said it was official business… Maxwell would never lie to him, would he?   

‘He did.’ 

Drake dropped his gaze to the floor, his mouth tasting sour and his voice laced with months worth of resentment when he spoke. ‘I guess you’re with him now aren’t you?’ 

Elizabeth opened her mouth to argue but something ugly reared inside him, determined to make her hurt just like he’d hurt when he’d seen her kissing Liam but Savannah beat him to it.

‘You’ve got no fucking right to be in there you know?’ she snapped at Elizabeth, stalking up to the taller woman, anger radiating off her entire frame. 'After all the shit you put him through.' 

'Savannah I can handle this,’ Drake interrupted but she ignored him, her voice raising in pitch and volume. 

 'Why can’t you just stay away!?' 

Elizabeth seemed to shrink further into herself, backing away from her. 'I couldn’t okay?! I can't stay away when-' 

’Then why you come back huh? To rub it in? Was leaving not painful enough for him? Or did you just have to see it through, to have the final laugh now that you-'

‘That not it at all,’ She cried out, immediately wincing as she raising a hand to her head, grimacing in pain as she turned to face Drake, eyes imploring him to listen. ‘Drake it was because of you! Back in New York, I could never get you out of my head. I tried to forget you, to move on but I couldn’t. The memories, our memories of you, of us wouldn’t stop no matter how hard I tried to block them out. And when I heard you got hurt-‘ Tears began to roll down her face as Elizabeth clutched her head in pain. 

‘Save the tears for someone who actually cares princess,’ His sister was yelling now at full volume. 

 'Savannah could you… please-‘ 

‘Sav cool it.' Drake attempted to step in again, his voice a warning now as he struggled to get off the bed, pain arcing through his side.  

‘Cool it? You’re asking me to cool it and this bitch just gets off scot free?’ She whirled back to Elizabeth, grey eyes flashing with rage. 'Puh-lease! After all the shit you put my brother through, you don’t get to ask You don’t get to traipse back here and suddenly decide that you want him in your life again!'

Elizabeth’s face twisted in anger. ‘Oh but you do?’

Neither of them saw the movement but there was no mistaking the sound of Savannah’s hand making contact with his ex-fiancee's right cheek, the stinging echoing throughout the small hospital room. 

 ‘Savannah what the fuck!?’ Drake screeched, eyes wide as he regarded his sister, horrified at how smug she looked. His eyes flew back to Elizabeth, who was clutching her cheek in pain, the skin underneath already red and swelling up. He made to say something but Elizabeth held a hand out to stop him. 

 ‘No its fine,' she gulped. ‘I-I..’ She didn’t wait to finish her sentence before dashing out the door, her sobs echoing behind her. 

Drake stared after her retreating figure, frozen in shock what had just happened. Suddenly his mind kicked him into action. 

 ‘What the hell are you doing?’ Savannah demanded, glaring at him as he struggled to get to his feet. 

‘What the fuck does it look like?’ He growled. ‘I’m going after her. I'm not about to let her go again.’ 

His sister’s face twisted into an ugly look. ’She doesn’t deserve it. No one came after me when I left..’ 

‘How is this suddenly about you?’ Drake snapped, ignoring the pain in his side as he struggled to move into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. 'You know what I don’t have the fucking time to deal with this right now.’ 

‘You’ll never catch up to her,’ Savannah replied bitterly, watching him rip off the hospital gown and slip on a pair of pants over his boxers. 

 ‘Watch me.’ With that he struggled to his feet, sliding on his shoes, gritting his teeth at the strain on his wound. 

 ‘She’s not worth it Drake.’ 

He paused in the doorway to glance back at where she was glaring at him from inside the room, grey eyes still brewing with anger. He matched her gaze, looking her fiercely in the eye. 

‘She’s worth everything.’

Drake barely heard the door slam and Maxwell’s gasp of surprise before blindly turning down a hallway, hoping to find Elizabeth. He called out her name, over and over as he staggered forward unsteadily, hospital parsons and staff of all kinds staring at him in annoyance but he didn’t care. He couldn’t let her go again… not this time. 

Attempting to navigate the busy corridors for a glimpse of her grey cardigan, his shoulder glanced off a protrusion on the wall, jerking him back painfully. He reflexively brought an arm to the bandage on his side and found it wet with blood but he forced himself to go on, calling out her name with renewed vigour until red began to fringe on the edges of his vision. 

 ‘NO, no, no, no,’ Drake muttered to no one in particular. ‘I need to find her, I have to tell her…’ His head swam and he could barely see until finally he sank to one knee, depleted of the strength to even hold himself up, vaguely aware of the hospital staff surrounding him, waving them off as he willed himself to get up but couldn’t as the darkness enveloped him once again. 

I need to tell her Iove her..

-

Idk who’s stil keeping up with this Tags:   @chantelle-x0x , @choicessa  @quartzandarrow , @drakewalkerwhipped , @ooo-barff-ooo @meeraaverywalker , @littleblossom-18, @boneandfur , @lizeboredom , @topsyturvy-dream , @american-duchess , @withice , @majesticmintyj @ninamckenzie22 , @drakelover78 , @h3llostrang3r , @cocomaxley , @zarina-x-zig , @nicestrokepam  , @enmchoices ,  @kellyale1804  , @mrswalkerreynolds , @kamybelen-blog ,  @hhiggs , @jenjosh5 ,  @bruhvs ,  @natalievgoodehenry ,  @choiceswreckedme ,  @laniquelove , @theroyalweisme  , @jamielea81  , @penguininapinktuxedo  , @tmarie82 , @crookedslimecreatorpasta ,  @asprankle  , @drakewanker  , @client-327  @graceisgone56 ,  @mfackenthal  , @smritysriv , @drakewalkerfantasy, @bobasheebaby , @ineedpeetalikehekneadsbread  , @srawesleyghuewrites , @ekhw1989 @mymandrake , @writtenbycandy , @andy-loves-corgis , @alwaysthebestchoice , @snyggflicka @mrsdrakewalkerblog , @moodygrip , @barbaravalentino , @agent-zephyrkah , @radpicklebakeryhero  , @innerpostmentality ,  @fairydustandsarcasm  , @speedyoperarascalparty , @debramcg1106 , @gardeningourmet , @blackcatkita , @meladoridarcy @lovelylittlewren @walkerduchess , @caz1003 , @annekebbphotography , @guilia3272 , @eileendannie 

[mtalviharju022583-blog]

Appreciation beauty courage quotes

Appreciation quotes

The aim of life is appreciation; there is no sense in not appreciating things; and there is no sense in having more of them if you have less appreciation of them.--G. K. Chesterton (Autobiography)

Appreciate what you have, accept the blessings waiting for you to need them, and above all - realize that Source from which it all comes.--Michael Rawls

Appreciation can make a day--even change a life, Your willingness to put it into words is all that is necessary.--Margaret Cousins

Appreciation is a wonderful thing. It makes what is excellent in others belong to us as well.--Voltaire

Appreciation, not possession, makes a thing ours.--Marty Rubin

A basic rule for managers is "Pass the pride down." People like to create when they can earn recognition for their ideas. When a good idea surfaces, the creator's immediate superiors should show prompt appreciation.--James L. Hayes

Beauty quotes

Beauty is God's handwriting.--Charles Kingsley

Beauty is in the heart of the beholder.--Al Bernstein

Beauty is no quality in things themselves: it exists merely in the mind which contemplates them.--David Hume ("Of the Standard of Taste" Four Dissertations)

Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart.--Khalil Gibran

Beauty is one of the rare things that do not lead to doubt of God.--Jean Anouilh (Becket)

The beauty that addresses itself to the eyes is only the spell of the moment; the eye of the body is not always that of the soul.--George Sand

courage quotes

Courage is the art of being the only one who knows you’re scared to death. -Harold Wilson

All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them. -Walt Disney

Courage is going from failure to failure without losing your enthusiasm. -Winston Churchill

The greatest test of courage on earth is to bear defeat without losing heart. -Robert Green Ingersoll

You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.' -Eleanor Roosevelt

Whatever you do, you need courage. Whatever course you decide upon, there is always someone to tell you that you are wrong. There are always difficulties arising that tempt you to believe your critics are right. To map out a course of action and follow it to an end requires some of the same courage that a soldier needs. Peace has its victories, but it takes brave men and women to win them. -Ralph Waldo Emerson

Courage is found in unlikely places. -J.R.R. Tolkien

Some people believe holding on and hanging in there are signs of great strength. However, there are times when it takes much most strength to know when to let go and then doit. -Ann Landers

My great hope is to laugh as much as I cry; to get my work done and try to love somebody and have the courage to accept the love in return. -Maya Angelou

Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time. -Maya Angelou

[efficacyclothing]

“You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated. In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats, so you can know who you are, what you can rise from, how you can still come out of it.” —Maya Angelou . 📷 @bulgerjoseph 🔥 @kellywhite22 https://www.efficacyclothing.co/store/victory-over-death (at Nashville, Tennessee) https://www.instagram.com/p/BqqAFLLnOXm/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1sby27njvt2xx

[paulsmith425-blog]

Its Okay Quotes and Sayings and it will be Okay Quotes

I may not know you actually, but rather I needed to connect over the web and to certifiably hold your hand and let you realize it will approve of a major rundown of reasons why. A rundown of reasons why the world doesn't suck despite the fact that things feel extremely hard at the present time. A rundown of suggestions to enable you to review your very own inward quality and versatility. A rundown of statements and insights and reflections on how and why you'll likely get past this time.

“I was set free because my greatest fear had been realized, and I still had a daughter who I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea. And so rock bottom became a solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.” ― J. K. Rowling

Because there are families out there raising and championing kind, compassionate, loving, respectful little boys.

Because I wrote you a pep talk for those times when you’re struggling.

“Our wounds are often the openings into the best and most beautiful part of us.” ― David Richo

Because there are families out there who are consciously allowing and deliberately supporting their child’s own natural gender and sexual identity to emerge of their own accord. How incredibly beautiful and powerful is that?

Its Okay Quotes Sayings

You are resilient. Perhaps more so than you know. And you can do really, really hard things.

“People are like stained – glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within.” ― Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, M.D.

Because while you may not know what the future holds, I trust you have the skills and capacity to meet it and to navigate it. However it unfolds. “One of the most calming and powerful actions you can do to intervene in a stormy world is to stand up and show your soul. Struggling souls catch light from other souls who are fully lit and willing to show it.” ― Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Ph.D.

Because, if the average person lives 27,375 days and this one happens to be a particularly bad one for you, remember not all of the other days lived so far felt this bad and remember that not all of your remaining days will likely feel this bad. It’s just one of many days in your life, even if it sucks right now.

“Discovering the truth about ourselves is a lifetime’s work, but it’s worth the effort.” ― Fred Rogers

No matter how hard things seem right now, you always have some degree of choice and free will, somewhere, somehow, even it’s “just” in how you choose to think about a situation.

“I’m here. I love you. I don’t care if you need to stay up crying all night long, I will stay with you. If you need the medication again, go ahead and take it—I will love you through that, as well. If you don’t need the medication, I will love you, too. There’s nothing you can ever do to lose my love. I will protect you until you die, and after your death I will still protect you. I am stronger than Depression and I am braver than Loneliness and nothing will ever exhaust me.” ― Elizabeth Gilbert

If you’re feeling scared and fearful because you’re experiencing or anticipating a loss and it’s bringing up your childhood fears around scarcity, grief, and loneliness, look around you and find reasons why you’re actually more secure than you feel. Just because past feelings are present does not mean the situation is real.

Okay Images

Because there are great and effective tools you can use to help manage your feelings.

Because, the smell of fresh baked bread.

Because there are enormously talented writers out there like J.K. Rowling, C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, Marion Zimmer Bradley, and others who have created whole worlds and universes for us to “escape” into if we need a little break from this one.

Because no feeling lasts forever. Even if it feels like it might always feel this way, it won’t. It’s impossible for it to because change is inevitable for all of us.

When it feels like you’re the last of your college girlfriends to get engaged/get married/have a baby/buy a house and you feel sad and very alone, just remember… Adulting’s not easy. And humaning can be hard.

“Often when you think you’re at the end of something, you’re at the beginning of something else.” ― Fred Rogers

Its all Okay Quotes

I mean, because of things like this video.

Because the world is filled with talented ASMR artists who are creating content to help soothe and support you.

“You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated. In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats, so you can know who you are, what you can rise from, how you can still come out of it.” ― Maya Angelou

Because even while it feels like the world (or your world) is ending, if you look around and notice the ground safely underneath your feet, the walls holding up the ceiling, your lungs breathing in and out, you have proof that it isn’t. Proof that you are safe.

“We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us.” ― Joseph Campbell

When you have gone through tough times in the past you got through them, didn’t you? You developed resources and skills or had gifts and opportunities brought to you at the time you needed them, right? Here’s your proof that this may happen again while you’re going through a hard time.

“It’s good to do uncomfortable things. It’s weight training for life.” ― Anne Lamott

You have (at least) one person in your life you could likely turn to if you needed to. A friend. A parent. Your therapist. Your neighbor. Your doctor.

“We cannot selectively numb emotions, when we numb the painful emotions, we also numb the positive emotions.” ― Brené Brown

If you’re feeling uncomfortable and scared because you’re stretching yourself and doing something you’ve never done before, know that this is totally normal and natural! It’s normal and natural to feel emotionally and physically uncomfortable when you up level and do new tasks or act from new ways of being. Your discomfort may not last and it may not be a sign that this is the wrong step.

“I think one of the keys to happiness is accepting that I am never going to be perfectly happy. Life is uncomfortable. So I might as well get busy loving the people around me. I’m going to stop trying so hard to decide whether they are the “right people” for me and just take deep breaths and love my neighbors. I’m going to take care of my friends. I’m going to find peace in the ’burbs. I’m going to quit chasing happiness long enough to notice it smiling right at me.” ― Glennon Doyle

Because of the sweet, milky smell of little babies…

It will be Okay Quotes

Please remember, what you’re going through right now is temporary. It may not feel like that from inside the tough time you’re in, but this too shall pass and you will feel different again someday. If you can’t have faith in that, let me hold the hope for you.

Right now, somewhere in the world, spiritual leaders are praying for you, meditating for you, crafting their work in the world for you.

“It’s funny: I always imagined when I was a kid that adults had some kind of inner toolbox full of shiny tools: the saw of discernment, the hammer of wisdom, the sandpaper of patience. But then when I grew up I found that life handed you these rusty bent old tools – friendships, prayer, conscience, honesty – and said ‘do the best you can with these, they will have to do’. And mostly, against all odds, they do.” ― Anne Lamott

Because, ice cream on a hot summer day.

You guys, there are libraries. Air-conditioned places where we can go to LEARN and to escape and to grow. Where you can find computers and free internet, audio books, dvd’s and thousands upon thousands of worlds waiting for you to explore them.

Because of everyday warriors like Senator Elizabeth Warren who are standing up for us and fighting the good fight.

“This is an important lesson to remember when you’re having a bad day, a bad month, or a shitty year. Things will change: you won’t feel this way forever. And anyway, sometimes the hardest lessons to learn are the ones your soul needs most. I believe you can’t feel real joy unless you’ve felt heartache. You can’t have a sense of victory unless you know what it means to fail. You can’t know what it’s like to feel holy until you know what it’s like to feel really fucking evil. And you can’t be birthed again until you’ve died.” ― Kelly Cutrone

While you cannot go back and change the past, the reality is that you now have choice about what you want to do moving forward. So get clear on what you want now, and do everything you can to go after it.

Because, giggling children, crazy cats, and lists of what’s going right in the world.

You may not understand what’s happening right now, but I invite you to TRUST THE PROCESS.

It may be that your soul needs to be going through this right now for a divine reason that’s just not known to you right now.

[aaronsmithtumbler]

We wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities and powers

Sometimes I think it's weird how all our great cultural and philosophical institutions were founded by wrestlers. But the more I think about it, the less surprising it gets.

The overt meaning of wrestling is a competition of strength. But the esoteric meaning of wrestling is the triumph of myth over reality. This we derive from kayfabe, aka "haven't you heard professional wrestling is fake?". Kayfabe is the outrageous storylines, the larger-than-life heroes and villains, the crowd always getting what will keep it in its seat a little longer. Kayfabe is the unspoken agreement not to rock the boat by insisting on a mere physical tussle when the world of ideas and narratives is so much more compelling.

Those who understand this become wielders of power. Did you know Donald Trump was in WWE wrestling? It's true. He never set foot in the ring, but he was a frequent guest star in wrestling storylines, usually as the meddling billionaire who would sponsor challengers or try to take over the wrestling league. He was good at it, too - he's one of only nine non-wrestlers to be inducted into the Wrestling Hall Of Fame. Is it too much of a stretch to say that's where he honed his craft - the craft of building narratives that were more attractive than boring old reality, and that would convince people to suspend their disbelief long enough to put him on top?

The Sumerians say civilization itself began with a wrestling match, when the god-king Gilgamesh (representing civilization) defeated his arch-enemy, the wild beast-man Enkidu (representing Nature). But Gilgamesh and Enkidu became suspiciously good friends as soon as the match ended. Was it real or kayfabe? Is civilization itself a sort of kayfabe? Does money only have value because we think it does? Is the government only legitimate because we think it is? How did Gilgamesh beat Enkidu anyway? Whether civilization is really more powerful than nature is an open question - but whether 30th century BC civilization was more powerful than nature seems a little more dubious. Did the gods fix the match in favor of a crowd favorite?

All of philosophy is footnotes to Plato, and Plato was a wrestler. I say "Plato", but his real name was Aristocles - "Plato" was his wrestling stage name; it meant "broad-shouldered". He was pretty good - kept almost making the Olympics - but almost doesn't cut it, and eventually he quit in favor of a career in philosophy. And so of course he comes up with the theory that ideas are more real than reality. Kayfabe again.

Modern Western thought is the Christian synthesis of Plato’s Greek philosophy with Israelite religion - and "Israelite" means "those who wrestle". Jacob was walking in the desert one evening when he came across an angel who challenged him to a wrestling match. All night long they wrestled, and when the dawn came, the angel declared that he should now call himself Yisra-el, "he who wrestles with God". And so on all through Judaism and Christianity. The kabbalistic meaning of "Vince McMahon" is "victorious son of man", and I can't help noticing that the Resurrection seemed sort of, well, scripted. You've got your face, Jesus. You've got your heel, Satan. It looks like Jesus is down for the count. But everything seems a little too choreographed, and - wait, was the High Priest's name really Kayafa? Is that a kayfabe reference?

If God wrestled with Jacob, does that make God Himself a wrestler? What if it does? The Hindus say that the world is maya, illusion. It is God playing a game with Himself, hiding Himself from Himself, for stakes that are infinite and zero at the same time. All of the players are God, and all of them are marching to a divine script, but the outcome is predetermined. The answer to the problem of suffering is that no one really suffers, the answer to the problem of death is that no one really dies. It's all just a game. And the game is wrestling. Wrestling is fake. But don't talk about it too loudly. Wrestle = Raziel = Secret Of God. You're not supposed to break kayfabe.

[alldrinkingaside]

*****

"Defeat may serve as well as victory to shake the soul and let the glory out."

I may emerge from defeat stronger on the other side, if it doesn't permanently disfigure me or outright kill me first. I will admit this: When Markham's statement is True (which is not always), it is Pure Poetry. I hear Maya Angelou's Caged Bird Sing and fly when its door opens, GLORIOUS, TRIUMPHANT.

When DEFEAT becomes VICTORY 2.0, it is so much sweeter. There may be one slight advantage some of us in recovery have over those who have never been addicted: We have felt the Prison of Addiction, so Our Freedom has the wings of a bird with more ruffled and varied feathers.

Clean & Sober is kept close to my chest, my senses still intact.

Strive on, my Sober Friends, and fly.

*****

For an added treat, check out my NEW Non-Fiction, BECOMING UNBROKEN: Reflections on Addiction and Recovery on Amazon here: https://lnkd.in/dkF767RT

In the meantime, Immerse yourself in my Descent into Addiction and eventual Recovery in my Autobiographical Fiction, ALL DRINKING ASIDE: The Destruction, Deconstruction & Reconstruction of an Alcoholic Animal

Find it on Amazon. Book it here: http://amzn.to/1bX6JyO 

#alcoholism #addiction #recovery #books

All Drinking Aside bookends each of its 90 Chapters with Quotes by the Famous, Infamous & Anonymous.

This Quote by Edwin Markham closes Chapter 54 (The God of Frozen Yogurt") of All Drinking Aside.

Resolve to read it. Explore your own mind within its pages. Check out the 5 Star Reviews on the Amazon page while you're there: http://amzn.to/1bX6JyO 

Enjoy BOTH OF THESE BOOKS on ADDICTION & RECOVERY! (Print & Kindle Versions Available of Both!)

[mtalviharju1983]

Attitude blessings challenges quotes 8-26-2018

Attitude quotes

We awaken in others the same attitude of mind we hold toward them. -Elbert Hubbard

The only disability in life is a bad attitude.  -Scott Hamilton

Life is a shipwreck but we must not forget to sing in the lifeboats. -Voltaire

People seem not to see that their opinion of the world is also a confession of character.  -Ralph Waldo Emerson

It's not what happens to you, but how you react to it that matters. -Epictetus

If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, change your attitude. -Maya Angelou

Blessings quotes

Be grateful for who you are and whatever you have. Everything you have is a gift from God. 

Rick Warren    -   What On Earth Am I Here for?

It is God's will to bless us, but not necessarily on our terms. Sometimes what we think would be a wonderful blessing would not bless us at all. 

Joyce Meyers, Be Anxious For Nothing

Confidently receive God's abundant blessings. Think abundance, prosperity, and the best of everything. 

Norman Vincent Peale -  Have A Great Day

In gratitude for God's gift of life to us we should share that gift with others. The art of giving encompasses many areas. It is an outgoing, overflowing way of life.

Wilferd A. Peterson, The Art of Living Treasure Chest

Live a life of gratitude, giving thanks in all circumstances. 

Mary C. Neal, MD, To Heaven and Back

Always count your blessings and thank God for all that you have.

Catherine Pulsifer

Make no mistake about it, responsibilities toward other human beings are the greatest blessings God can send us. 

Dorothy Dix

Challenges quotes

Accept the challenges so that you can feel the exhilaration of victory.--Gen. George S. Patton

Adventure is an attitude that we must apply to the day to day obstacles of life -- facing new challenges, seizing new opportunities, testing our resources against the unknown and in the process, discovering our own unique potential.--John Amatt

All my life I've always had the urge to do things better than anybody else.--Babe Didrikson Zaharias

Because our gifts carry us out into the world and make us participants in life, the uncovering of them is one of the most important tasks confronting any one of us.--Elizabeth O'Connor (Eighth Day of Creation: Gifts and Creativity)

Being challenged in life is inevitable, being defeated is optional.--Roger Crawford

[loveiscosmicsin]

Dreaming of the Dawn

Post-canon Noctis (or should I say Post-Episode Ignis canon as of December 13th 2017? Well, it was written long before the DLC came out) and Ignis visit the old apartment building. A spontaneous decision led by another, they would always be at each other's side no matter the outcome.

Inspired by this tweet thread by titansatemysoul / @nokuigu : https://twitter.com/nokuigu/status/930533797438816257 Written with her permission. I love the headcanon and how well now it fits better than ever. Posted on my Ao3.

-

“In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours. In all the world, there is no love for you like mine.” - Maya Angelou

-

“What do you see?” “I...” Noctis struggled to articulate the view. “It’s different. And in much better shape than I thought it’d be.” Before the attack on the Crown City, there used to be a grand wisteria tree that grew in the centre of the courtyard. The very same tree where Ignis parked his car under one day in spring and found it overwhelmed by the fallen flowers. While Ignis lamented over retracting the roof, Noctis made no comment and compelled by some adventitious force, reached out to pluck the lavender blue blossom from the chamberlain’s chestnut locks and innocently, “You look so good in purple, Ig.” What remained of the tree now was a dead charred stump with its years before it was cut prematurely engraved in it, but beside it, two saplings had sprouted from the icy, withered ground. “Does it look safe to go inside?” Ignis asked, readjusting the plum scarf around his neck and removing the frosted visor over his scarred face. “Yeah,” Noctis forced the lump in his throat down. “Just... a lot to take in at once.”

“Then we have little to fear.” Ignis pressed a gloved finger to his lips, pensive before cocking his head assertively. “May I remind you that it was your idea to come to this place? We mustn’t drift from the goal now.” Whether Ignis was aware or felt exhausted hearing it time and time again, Noctis knew he was right. It was his idea and stopping halfway would be unsatisfactory to the both of them. With one hand holding the bag containing their lunch and the other finding catharsis from the emanating warmth of Ignis’ hand, Noctis led him inside the building. Despite its haunted and somber exterior, he can’t help but to feel relief to finally approach this piece of his past. Electricity was one of the vital resources that withstood the passages of time and underground conduits extended to all parts of the city. The apartment complex was no exception. The elevators responded when summoned and lifted the two men to the top floor. Noctis had lived in Insomnia Tower when he was fifteen and had vacated the premises five years later for Altissia. For a time, he lived a normal life and his duties as crown prince were lenient, but at the cost of being kept out of the loop of his father’s failing health. Death had followed the young prince since the beginning. Succession to the throne meant his father’s death and the frailty of his own mortality and it drove him to distance from anything and anyone that reminded him of it. “Well?” Ignis turned his head after Noctis got them inside the apartment, waiting for the grand tour he had been promised. “Don’t keep me in suspense.” “I’ll, uh, let me get the lights.” Noctis hit the switch by the entrance and light flooded the hall leading to the living room and kitchen. “Abandoned,” he paused, holding his breath to stop himself from sneezing. “And pretty dusty. Watch out.” “Duly noted.” Noctis swore he heard an eye roll with that. Ignis removed his gloves and carefully tucked them away in his pocket before feeling his way against the walls, tracing cracks and peeling wallpaper. “It’s rather drafty here, wouldn’t you say? I fear we’ll catch our death of cold.” The king agreed, it was musty and freezing inside, but he didn’t have the heart to let a gentleman suffer. “I can think of a couple ways to keep warm.” “Not so fast, Majesty. See if we can heat this room up a bit.” The power still worked, but it was too much to hope that the heating system would as well. They would just have to endure. Curiosity was the best cure to keeping minds off the cold. Ignis was more eager about coming here than he showed, examining the condition of the interior and making comments every now and then. Save for the cupboards, counters, and appliances bolted down, the apartment was stripped bare. Not a single piece of furniture remained. Not even the bed frames in the main bedroom and guest room. Noctis walked around the living room, the floorboards reverberated and eerily welcomed its visitors. He mostly remembered where everything was and the accidents that occurred. Every spot, though the physical markers long gone, carried fragments of his closest relationships. By the veranda, Cogsworth, a resilient house plant he received from Iris, was either swollen from excessive watering or went through days without a drop of water. Taking advantage of their strongest to weakest subjects, Prompto and Noctis had intense study sessions on the couch, comparing answers in preparation for exams with lots of junk food involved. Not taking no for an answer, Gladiolus had always came over with a deck of cards and despite the bitter taste of defeat more rounds than victory, somehow, became life lessons about decision making. Noctis had kept the red leather notebook that he used to write to Luna in a bookshelf, sending trading cards and limited edition stickers her way, knowing she loved collecting them. And Ignis, no matter what kind of day Noctis was having after school or work, the chamberlain had one of the vinyl records in the collection playing and a home-cooked meal waiting, starting a tradition that he would wait until they were able to eat together.

Deciding to head to the veranda, Noctis noticed that the velvet curtains swayed as if possessed, and pulled them wide open. Many times a young prince stood outside and stared out to the metropolis that he was to inherit, a myriad of thoughts plagued him. Insomnia at night had life, a cacophonous and yet, harmonious energy to that was easy to lose himself in. He was part of the city as it was of him. He wasn’t the prince, he was just Noctis and it was okay to forget for a while.   “Found what’s making the place cold.” There was a massive crack in the window and it allowed gentle gusts of air to come through. “I wonder who lived here after we left. If there was a somebody,” he pondered aloud. If someone did, maybe they saw Insomnia differently than he did. “Best not to ponder over less than savory thoughts.” Ignis said, close by, assessing the kitchen and finding that the facet ran dry.

“Yeah, you’re right. Having fun yet?” “I was just recalling our game nights. How far a man would go to get the last slice of pizza.”

“Those were the days.” The king agreed, remembering the best and cheapest pizza on the block. Through the best and worst days, Noctis treasured those memories. Ignis didn’t live with him, he stayed over often, and it was perfect even if it was only overnight and having to leave before Noctis woke up. Knowing that it wouldn’t last, the young prince pretended that they would live here forever without the burden of the royal family name looming over them. A futile and foolish fantasy. A few weeks after he survived the blood prophecy, Noctis knew not what to do next. He had no plan. No goal. Death was the last and only plan, he entrusted Lucis to his retinue and allies. Since then, rebuilding was the only thing he managed to stay focused on. He bore no weight on his own future. Ignis believed in him. Blind loyalty, he claimed, but Noctis knew better: Ignis never once lost the light in his eyes. “Shall we take a break? I’m feeling a bit peckish.” Noctis wasn’t done looking around and while they could always return, he hadn’t been fully truthful to Ignis that he informed the others that they were here. There was something here to be uncovered and he thought if he didn’t have the answer, Ignis might provide input. “You sure? There’s nowhere to sit.” “We’ll settle for the floor then.” The king and the strategist sat on the floor across each from other where the dining table used to be, and dined on what contents Noctis brought in the bag. “What kind of sandwich—” “PB and J,” Noctis answered cheerfully with his mouth full. “Of course.” Ignis chuckled as he bit into his sandwich. “Compliments to the chef as always.” “I know my way ‘round a jar or two,” the king replied, licking the peanut butter off his digits. They ate their food in comfortable silence and tidied up before resuming to the investigation of the apartment together. “We’ve achieved much in the past several months,” Ignis remarked, joining Noctis at the veranda. “The progress of repairs in the Citadel have exceedingly gone beyond expectations.” “It’s because everyone’s been so willing to help,” Noctis explained, giving credit where credit was due. “Men, women, even the kids pitched in. Everyone’s giving their all.” “They’ve been inspired by their king and his trusty pickaxe, toiling away to clear the rubble with his own two hands. It sounds like a folktale, given your new honorific as the Dawn-Bringer.” The strategist crossed his arms. “Let’s turn our attention to this place next.” “Huh? Didn’t know we’re playing real estate now. You sure love taking your roleplaying seriously.” “Come now, it’s more of a personal interest. I thought we ought to restore what memories we can.” “We can always make new ones, right?” “Is that not what we’re doing now?” “Yeah, but...” Noctis’ mind painted of what used to be there. Yes, it was where he lived, precarious circumstances aside, but it wasn’t home. Home was in the people, not the place. In a way, his heart moved out when Prompto, Gladiolus, and Ignis helped him pack that day. If he were asked to provide a definition of home, Ignis’ smiling at him was the thought that came to mind. Since the first moment Ignis breathed his name in absolution, Noctis had thought of the future even when the universe fought so viciously to deny him of it. Ignis had never left Noctis’ side. When Noctis returned from his time in the Crystal, he had thought Ignis would treat him as a stranger and after all that time, the strategist would have a change of heart. It was a cruel reality that he was ready to accept, ten years was more than enough time for a person to change. He was glad he was wrong. Nothing changed. “Noct?” “Back when you, we, had our doubts about how this would turn out, I promised you that every morning when you wake up, you’ll never regret being with me, right?” “Of course. I never regretted you or us, cherishing the time we have together.” “And we agreed to one day going to Caem and locking ourselves in a cottage for a week. Finally get that peace and quiet we talked about.” “Mhm. After Insomnia’s rebuilt. Not before,” Ignis reminded him of that condition for good measure. “You were quite persistent that I wear that swimsuit when we both know how inappropriate it is for harvesting mussels.” “Hey, hunting for seafood is your idea, not mine.” The king realized that the conversation was starting to go off-track and revealed the first five words without hesitation, “Ignis, will you marry me?” Ignis’ eye widened and his body stiffened for a moment. He made a sound as if the puzzle pieces in his ever-calculating mind have finally clicked in place. “Are you...” Noctis took Ignis’ left hand and his lips caressed the knuckles, unable to look at his face while his own warmed. “I... don’t have a ring. Yet. But I can ask this again when I do.” A soft, rueful laugh escaped him as his forehead touched Ignis’ chest. He didn’t have a speech prepared, but that didn’t mean the desire to spend his life with the man he loved wasn’t without certainty. “Not once we talked about this, but in my head, I see us tying the knot already and it always felt so right. So... You don’t have to give me an answer now. Just think about it.” Draping an arm around him, Ignis rested his chin on the king’s crown, his voice unexpectedly low that it raised goosebumps. “That won’t be necessary.” His chest rose and fell once with ecstatic conviction. “Nothing would make me happier.” Noctis’ heart thundered in his chest at the vagueness of that answer. “Do you—”

“I do.” “Wait, you didn’t let me finish,” the king frowned, untangling himself from the strategist’s embrace. “Is that a yes or a no?” Ignis tilted his head, a teasing smirk on his lips. “I didn’t wish to waste a single second to give you my answer. Twice. And yet, you certainly love to keep me waiting.” His fingers twined in Noctis’. “You may not realize this, but the thought about marriage has crossed my mind. I swore to love you until the last star in the galaxy is extinguished, have I not?” He said, bringing Noctis’ palm to his lips, adding, “I aim to keep my vow.”

The king pouted, tracing the thin scar on the lower lip. “You could’ve said something.”

“Patience is a virtue. I can account that the quality of is quite rewarding. Your spontaneous proposal caught me by surprise.”

“If anyone asks, it’s because of your ‘patience’ that we’re not married right now.” “Perhaps,” Ignis admitted and he reached out with his free hand to stroke Noctis’ cheek. “However, I will tell you this once more and for as many times as need be: I do.”

Noctis grinned, standing on his toes as he circled his arms around Ignis. He could never get sick of hearing those words. There were many ways to express their love and those two words were enough for now.

“I do, too,” he murmured before he kissed him.

With every atom of his existence and all the light that shined on their world.

[triceyes]

How to live (forty pieces of advice I feel to be helpful but which I don’t always follow) 1. Appreciate happiness when it is there. 2. Sip, don’t gulp. 3. Be gentle with yourself. Work less. Sleep more. 4. There is absolutely nothing in the past that you can change. That’s basic physics. 5. Beware of Tuesdays. And Octobers. 6. Kurt Vonnegut was right. ‘Reading and writing are the most nourishing forms of meditation anyone has so far found.’ 7. Listen more than you talk. 8. Don’t feel guilty about being idle. More harm is probably done to the world through work than idleness. But perfect your idleness. Make it mindful. 9. Be aware that you are breathing. 10. Wherever you are, at any moment, try and find something beautiful. A face, a line out of a poem, the clouds out of a window, some graffiti, a wind farm. Beauty cleans the mind. 11. Hate is a pointless emotion to have inside you. It is like eating a scorpion to punish it for stinging you. 12. Go for a run. Then do some yoga. 13. Shower before noon. 14. Look at the sky. Remind yourself of the cosmos. Seek vastness at every opportunity, in order to see the smallness of yourself. 15. Be kind. 16. Understand that thoughts are thoughts. If they are unreasonable, reason with them, even if you have no reason left. You are the observer of your mind, not its victim. 17. Do not watch TV aimlessly. Do not go on social media aimlessly. Always be aware of what you are doing, and why you are doing it. Don’t value TV less. Value it more. Then you will watch it less. Unchecked distractions will lead you to distraction. 18. Sit down. Lie down. Be still. Do nothing. Observe. Listen to your mind. Let it do what it does without judging it. Let it go, like the Snow Queen in Frozen. 19. Don’t worry about things that probably won’t happen. 20. Look at trees. Be near trees. Plant trees. (Trees are great.) 21. Listen to that yoga instructor on YouTube, and ‘walk as if you are kissing the Earth with your feet’. 22. Live. Love. Let go. The three Ls. 23. Alcohol maths. Wine multiplies itself by itself. The more you have, the more you are likely to have. And if it’s hard to stop at one glass, it will be impossible at three. Addition is multiplication. 24. Beware of the gap. The gap between where you are and where you want to be. Simply thinking of the gap widens it. And you end up falling through. 25. Read a book without thinking about finishing it. Just read it. Enjoy every word, sentence, and paragraph. Don’t wish for it to end, or for it to never end. 26. No drug in the universe will make you feel better, at the deepest level, than being kind to other people. 27. Listen to what Hamlet – literature’s most famous depressive – told Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. ‘There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.’ 28. If someone loves you, let them. Believe in that love. Live for them, even when you feel there is no point. 29. You don’t need the world to understand you. It’s fine. Some people will never really understand things they haven’t experienced. Some will. Be grateful. 30. Jules Verne wrote of the ‘Living Infinite’. This is the world of love and emotion that is like a ‘sea’. If we can submerge ourselves in it, we find infinity in ourselves, and the space we need to survive. 31. Three in the morning is never the time to try and sort out your life. 32. Remember that there is nothing weird about you. You are just a human, and everything you do and feel is a natural thing, because we are natural animals. You are nature. You are a hominid ape. You are in the world and the world is in you. Everything connects. 33. Don’t believe in good or bad, or winning and losing, or victory and defeat, or up and down. At your lowest and at your highest, whether you are happy or despairing or calm or angry, there is a kernel of you that stays the same. That is the you that matters. 34. Don’t worry about the time you lose to despair. The time you will have afterwards has just doubled its value. 35. Be transparent to yourself. Make a greenhouse for your mind. Observe. 36. Read Emily Dickinson. Read Graham Greene. Read Italo Calvino. Read Maya Angelou. Read anything you want. Just read. Books are possibilities. They are escape routes. They give you options when you have none. Each one can be a home for an uprooted mind. 37. If the sun is shining, and you can be outside, be outside. 38. Remember that the key thing about life on earth is change. Cars rust. Paper yellows. Technology dates. Caterpillars become butterflies. Nights morph into days. Depression lifts. 39. Just when you feel you have no time to relax, know that this is the moment you most need to make time to relax. 40. Be brave. Be strong. Breathe, and keep going. You will thank yourself later.

Reasons to Stay Alive, Matt Haig

[minnamarie1983-blog]

Patience and perseverance quotes 12-14-2017

Patience quotes

Patience quotes

Patience is something you admire in the driver behind you and scorn in the one ahead.  ~Mac McCleary

Patience is the ability to count down before you blast off.  ~Author Unknown

Beware the fury of a patient man.  ~John Dryden, Absolam and Achitophel, 1680

Patience is a most necessary qualification for business; many a man would rather you heard his story than granted his request.  ~Lord Chesterfield

Patience:  A minor form of despair disguised as a virtue.  ~Ambrose Bierce

You can learn many things from children.  How much patience you have, for instance.  ~Franklin P. Jones

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Perseverance quotes

Submitted by Nisandeh Neta

The shortest way beyond fear is through it.

Thomas Fuller 

Nothing is easy to the unwilling. Nothing is EASY to the unwilling.

Maya Angelou

We may encounter many defeats but we must not be defeated.

Ben Stein 

It is inevitable that some defeat will enter even the most victorious life. The human spirit is never finished when it is defeated... it is finished when it surrenders.

[roguelioness]

DWC: #5 for poetry inspired prompts.

Thank you for the prompt, @roksanalyasin! ^_^

For @dadrunkwriting

Featuring my newest Inquisitor, Fenasha Lavellan, and Solas. Non-canon, set post-Trespasser.

You may write me down in history / With your bitter, twisted lies, / You may trod me in the very dirt / But still, like dust, I’ll rise [Still I Rise, Maya Angelou]  

Spider’s Web

“Fen’harel.”

She felt a vicious stab of satisfaction when he spun around, his face clearly displaying his disbelief. A second later, however, he had recovered, his face pulled into that neutral mask she was so familiar with. “Inquisitor.” 

She took a step forward, propping herself up on her staff for support. “I am not the Inquisitor, as you well know.”

“Though you may have stepped down, there are many who still associate you with the title.”

She hated Halamshiral. Everywhere she looked, her people were pushed to the background, trodden over, much like how the Winter Palace was built on the ruins of her ancestors.

They spoke about her even before she stepped foot into the palace grounds, not even bothering to lower their voices to a whisper.

“What is a rabbit doing dressed like that?”

“I hear she is the Inquisitor.”

“What? Such nonsense. How can one of those filthy things hold a title so honorable?”

“Just another knife ear. Reckon by the end of the night she’ll be scrubbing the stones of that path she’s walking on.”

They laughed, they jeered, they gazed at her with disgust - the women - and lust - the men. Through it all, she held her head high, never once losing her calm composure in front of them.

By the end of the evening, they hung on her every word as she stood next to the Empress and Briala, victorious, the fate of Orlais having been decided by her - a “knife-ear.” But she cared little. She did not need them; she had the Inquisition.

“If they did once, they no longer do so,” she scoffed. “You made sure of that.”

He had the grace to look guilty. “It was not meant to happen, I assure you.”

“Is that so? Forgive me for having a hard time believing it. You are known for the lies you tell, after all.”

“I do not lie about this, vhenan.”

“Do not call me that! Not after everything!” Her eyes flashed in anger, and she would have charged at him had it not been for her injured foot.

“You must know I would not have done anything that would have caused you direct harm,” he pleaded.

“If that was the case,” her voice lowered, “why did you not try and help me even once?”

She watched as they tore her - and the Inquisition - apart. It mattered little to them that she had given her sweat, her blood - no, her very life - to saving them. No, she was still nothing but a knife-ear to them, and like hungry, slobbering mabaris they eyed her Inquisition greedily, their hands reaching out to try and take the power she’d amassed for themselves.

And even then, even in the midst of that treachery and betrayal, she still worked to save them, ripping, slashing, her way through the Qunari hordes, giving up her arm - and her lover - in the process, and not once did they acknowledge what she had done for them.

She disbanded the Inquisition. She did not need it; she had her family, her  friends.

“I did not know where you were, Fenasha. I had my agents search for you, but you had vanished. Each time we found a trail, it lead us nowhere. How was I to help you, if I could not find you?”

“You could have helped,” she hissed, “by calling off your men. Do you know how many times someone has attempted to assassinate me? Do you know how many people have died in my stead?”

His look of horror almost convinced her that he was innocent. Almost.

“Ma’asha, vhenan, I did not know of this, I swear. Who came after you?” he demanded. “Tell me!”

“How would I know? They were your men!” she retorted.

She remembered his words the day everything unraveled around her. An enemy can hurt you, but only an ally can betray you. She had had to go into hiding after Briala betrayed her.

They called her the Dread Wolf’s harlot. The bards sang of how she had conspired with her lover to end the world, and would have done so had Corypheus not interfered. She could not step foot in any village for fear of being attacked by an angry mob. The shems hunted down her clan, attempting to slaughter them all for a falsehood that wasn’t even their fault; and she had been powerless to stop it.

She was left as Keeper and First and everything else of Clan Lavellan. She was all that remained. But she kept moving, even as a part of her soul shriveled and died, because she still had her friends.

“All of them?” he questioned, brow raised in skepticism. “A few rogue agents, I can believe, but if you have been attacked as many times as you say you have, I find it hard to assume that they were all my men.”

She looked away. “Not all of them,” she muttered the confession. “But make no mistake, Solas - they were all a result of your plan!”

“And what do you know of this plan of mine?”

“Enough to know that everything I have been through has been orchestrated by you! I may be a fool, but even I am not so blind as to miss the manipulations of a master puppeteer!”

His forehead scrunched up in confusion. “What manipulations?”

She scoffed. “Oh, please. Are you going to tell me that Briala was not working on your orders when she announced that I was your agent?” Her grip on her staff tightened till her knuckles turned white. “That one lie destroyed me. I lost everything; my clan, my friends, my home… everything.”

They had suffered a huge blow to their plans; with her name sullied, obtaining allies was next to impossible. Her friends tried to defend her the best they could, but even with Leliana’s secrets and Josephine’s tact, few refused to believe that the knife-ear who had falsely worn the mantle of Inquisitor was innocent. It was easier to believe that she was one of them, one of the rebel; the elven rebellion that hid in the darkness of the shadows and struck swift and deadly. She looked like them, and so they said she was one of them, even as she tried to prevent their cities from turning into rubble.

In the end, her association with those she considered her friends proved too dangerous for them, and she pushed them away in order to protect them.

And was left with nothing.

Five steps, and she was pulled into his arms, her staff falling to the floor unheeded as he crushed her to him. “Ir abelas, vhenan, ir abelas,” he breathed into the top of her head. “I am sorry for all you have been through, truly I am.”

She laughed, the sound bitter and mocking even to her own ears. “And what am I supposed to do with your apologies, Fen’harel?”

“I know you hurt,” he soothed, and suddenly, she felt calm and serene, almost as though she were in a daze. “But vhenan, would Briala’s statement have made that much of an effect if you were not an elf?” He gazed down at her, his eyes ringed with silver and gleaming in the low light of the decrepit building. “If you were human, they would not have turned on you, Fenasha. They would have branded her a liar. How much of what happened can you truly blame on me?”

She frowned; why wasn’t her mind working properly? “My clan,” she said at last. “You could have helped them… stopped the attack, or at least warned them…”

“Would you believe me if I told you I did warn them? I sent several agents to Wycome to tell them to leave immediately, that they were in danger. I offered to help them escape, to find them shelter until the shems rage ended. But they refused, secure in the belief that the humans they had befriended would not turn on them. And yet…”

“… the shems turned on them,” she finished dully.

 “I am so sorry,” he said again.

All the fight went out of her, and she slumped against him. “What do I do now?” she asked, her voice breaking. “Where do I go?”

“Stay with me,” he said, his hands wrapping around her wrists, his thumb stroking the soft inner part.

“I- can’t… I… shouldn’t,” she said, but she sounded uncertain.

“You can,” he persuaded. “What have the humans done for you? They do not appreciate you. You defeated Corypheus, and yet they told you that the Inquisition was a threat. They were so quick to turn on you at a single falsehood. They turned against your clan - and they claimed to be friends with your family, did they not? And what of your friends? Why are they not by your side? After everything you have done for her, surely Cassandra could have used her position as Divine to offer you sanctuary? But she did not, did she?”

“She offered,” Fenasha stated distractedly. “But I was worried the rest of the Chantry would turn on her…”

“For offering aid? Would they have felt the same if you were of their kind?”

“I… no…?”

“So why do you insist on standing for them?”

“If I don’t, then who will?”

He brushed his lips against hers. “Have you not given enough of your blood for them, vhenan? Do you not deserve some peace?”

“But- I-” Why couldn’t she remember why she had come here?

“Come with me, ma lath,” he whispered into her mouth. “You do not have to be alone.”

He was right. Why should she have to be alone? Why did she have to pay the price for the shems, after all that they had done to her? After everything that they had taken away from her? They did not deserve her.

Her people needed her.

They would not let her down.

She would not have to be alone.

She inhaled. “Yes, Solas. I will come with you.”