#Verse; refuse. rebuild.

[clochanamarch]

si.ms 4 is updating so let me tell u abt the restaurant aisling operates in her the bo.ys verse:

it's called rún, the irish word for secret. outwardly "because we keep our guests' attendance and identities a secret from those outside the restaurant", but it's more because she steals the secrets and delivers them to people who can utilise them to their most destructive advantage.

it's michelin-star winning stuff here. they don't publish this information, but the restaurant has three stars and is staffed by the finest chefs in the world (more specifically, the finest chefs who are willing and eager to contribute to the dissolution of the seven)

the windows are sealed against bugs, bullets and coated with a chemical that prevents supes from using their powers on those inside.

all guests are assigned numbers to protect their anonymity, although aisling knows their names and gains their trust through flattery and subtle psychological tricks, namely belittling herself and the staff, researching them through social media, and reducing their interactions with the staff as much as possible, though the latter is designed to protect the staff from unwanted attention.

basically, this verse is one where she has no other choice but to display her logic and strategic skills as much as possible. everything is purposeful and designed, she has back-up plans for everything, like aisling in her main verse is actively searching for a home and a joy that she's been lacking in her life since before eoin, and now in this verse the joy and love she had in new york is replaced with a terrifying new world that isolates her to the point where she's capable of being far more methodical and decisive and thoughtful in order to regain the world she knows and loves. rún being opulent but cold is a prime example of that, there's no bright warmth, it's all sleek and minimal and efficient, which is precisely what she needs to be in order to restore the world as she knows it to be.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Lack of Focus

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: Matt comforts you when your forgetfulness seems to be ruining your life.

warnings: swearing, weepy reader, period mentions, Matt being adorable, reader's no good very bad day

a/n: this is heavily inspired by my own life last month where my unknown disability gave me such intense brain fog on my period that I thought I’d somehow gotten brain damage.  Thankfully, it’s passed but what the FUCK y’all. That has never happened to me before and it was terrifying. So here is a little emotional hurt/comfort based on that! Also it takes place in the "In All the World" verse, but it can be read as a standalone. As always, please reply/reblog/DM me feedback!

w/c: 3.7k

Elbows planted firmly on your wobbly desk, you tried to ignore the way the large gouge on the left side dug into your exposed skin. You could feel the splintering fiberboard prickling your flesh, but you were too exhausted to adjust your posture. Your body felt heavy, as if you’d been transported to a different planet overnight and hadn’t quite adjusted to the intense gravitational force. Invisible strings attached to every cell that composed you, anchoring your movements to a far away point, making it difficult to even sit up straight.

Lifting your chin from atop your clammy hands, you strained to reach the coffee cup that you’d stupidly left on the far corner of the desktop. The minuscule weight of the mug made your hands shake, your strength sheerly depleted even though it was barely 8:30 in the morning. The watery coffee slid over your tongue, leaving the gritty residue of undissolved powdered creamer behind. You were used to crappy break room coffee, but it tasted especially bitter today, like a poor consolation prize for a contest you hadn’t entered.

In a word, you felt…groggy. Which made no sense, since you’d been sleeping ten or more hours a day the whole week—if you included your frequent naps. Your period-exhaustion and raging brain fog were apparently in cahoots this month.

The heat wasn’t helping either. New York was currently jumping between excessive, brutal sun and pouring rain. Each day felt like a Greek myth, Apollo and his father battling it out in a wretched display of strength, leaving you and the other mere mortals of Long Island to cope with the muggy weather until their spat was over. Walking through the streets felt more like swimming, given there was so much water vapor in the air you practically needed gills to process oxygen every time you stepped out of your apartment. Nearly suffocating on the 15 minute walk from your apartment to work surely wasn't helping your inability to think clearly.

With a massive sigh, you hauled another box of sheet music into your lap, thumbing through the pages of crumpled and coffee-stained paper. The district had been especially aggravating this summer, trying to appease the school board with promises of low budgets and high rates of success. As much as you’d love for that to be your reality, you had yet to decide on a starting piece for either of your choirs, and the fall musical was barely on your radar. Your mind was plodding through quicksand, grappling for steady ground. The last thing you needed was added pressure from a handful of men who refused to understand the importance of the arts, let alone your career.

Fingers rifling over the blurry text of one particular song selection, you paused, considering the technical skills you’d need to rebuild with your students after their summer break. Removing the pages from the box, you set it aside to ponder further, turning your attention back to the endless stacks. Before you could feel too proud, having stepped incrementally closer to actually  accomplishing something today, a shrill buzzing sounded from your desk. 

You jumped at the noise, losing your grip on the heavy box which toppled to the floor, spewing its contents across the grubby tile of your office. “Shit,” You cursed, snatching your phone up to answer it as you bent down to gather up the sea of scattered papers. The former organization system you’d meticulously sorted them into was nothing but a distant memory. Add it to the growing list of “to dos”, you thought miserably.

Swiping absently at the screen of your phone, you crammed it between your ear and your shoulder, trying to uncrumple the ancient cardboard box that had collapsed during the fall as you greeted whoever had disturbed you. “Hello?” Your tone was less than upbeat, and you could hear a small, slightly-miffed scoff across the line as the caller came to that realization as well.

“Hi, sweetheart. Is everything ok?” Your hands froze around fistfuls of paper, embarrassment clawing at your throat as you registered your boyfriend’s voice. 

“Hey, Matty. Yah, I’m fine. Sorry for sounding like..that. It’s been a tough morning.” You explained, messily gathering the papers into your lap as you fell into a criss-cross position on the floor. 

“I can tell,” Matt chuckled sympathetically. “Are you still coming?” 

Forehead scrunching with confusion, your brain valiantly attempted to decipher the question’s meaning before you eloquently asked for clarification.

“Huh?”

Staring at the walls of your office dumbfounded, your posture became less relaxed as Matt explained what he’d meant. “To the coffee shop? You promised to meet the three of us for breakfast.” 

“Oh god.” You absolutely had. Matt had been moping all week about his busy schedule and the resulting lack of time you’d spent together, so you’d readily agreed when he’d suggested coffee. He’d even been sweet enough to schedule it on the one day that you didn’t have any early meetings so you wouldn’t be too rushed after meeting him. “Oh Matt, I’m so sorry.”

“You forgot.” His response was patient, but even over the tinny speaker his hurt was obvious. Your eyes stung as you pictured his face falling, silently conveying your failure to his coworkers. 

“I’m so so sorry, I’ll be there as soon as I can. It’s the little cafe off of 7th and 42nd?” Clambering to your feet, your voice was slightly choked as your throat constricted—your disappointment and frustration squeezing it like a vice. 

“Hey, it’s ok, love. It’s almost 9:00, we have a meeting with a client in 45. If you’re all the way across town—“

“I’ll barely get to see you anyways.” You finished his thought, eyes falling shut as your hopes of not missing another activity were dashed. This wasn’t the first time this week something important had slipped your mind, despite being on your calendar. You’d already had to reschedule a dentist appointment, scramble home fifteen minutes late to meet with a student for a private lesson, and you’d filed the application for a grant three hours too late because you’d misread the instructions. The constant mistakes were quickly spiraling, leaving you to wallow in confusion and despair as your brain fog only grew. “I’m s—“

“Don’t apologize, sweet girl. It happens,” Matt reassured you. He was disappointed, you had no doubt about that, but he wasn’t angry. A wave of gratitude for Matt’s endless compassion crashed into you swiftly, nearly bringing you to your knees. Your tongue felt heavy, cheeks dampening as tears began to fall. “I was just worried something had happened. It slipped your mind?”

“I don’t know what’s up with me, Matt.” You whimpered, dropping heavily into your squeaky desk chair with a shaky exhale. “I know my mind has never been a ‘steel trap’ but..I’m starting to think something might be wrong.”

Your voice broke off on the admission. Bringing a knuckle to your mouth to bite down on, you refused to sob into Matt’s ear over the phone. He didn’t deserve that after you’d stood him up.

“I know. I’m sorry the past few weeks have been so hard. Do you have plans tonight?” Matt asked softly, voice laden with concern. Even through the phone, his voice bundled you up in a comforting warmth, a layer of protection between you and the world. He was eternally patient with you, loving you endlessly despite your recent bout of ditsy-ness.

“Not sure I’d remember if I did,” You chuckled humorlessly.

“That’s ok, sweetheart. Anything on your calendar?” Acknowledging your frustration, Matt tenderly redirected you—trying to keep your mind from wandering without blaming you for it. God, you loved him.  

“Let me check.” You sniffled, drawing the phone away from your temple so you could flick through your schedule. “Not after 4:00.”

“Ok well I should be done here around 6:00. I can come over for dinner, if you’d like.” Your lips formed a tiny smile at Matt’s loving persistence.

“Yes please. Can we meet at yours instead?”

“Of course! You can go straight to my loft after work, if you feel like it. You can use the spare I gave you.”

“Are you sure?” You suddenly felt a bit timid, being handed so much trust after letting everyone down for over a week.

“Absolutely, sweetheart. You know how much I enjoy you being there. Besides, I’ve missed you like crazy.” His voice was a rumble, making you feel far more loved than you thought you deserved at the moment.

“I miss you too, Matt. I wish my stupid brain would’ve remembered coffee so I could’ve seen you earlier.” Your vision shifted as saline flooded your waterline, tears wobbling as they fought to escape.

“I’ll just have to make it up to you tonight.” Matt purred, definitely waggling his eyebrows even though he was not in your line of sight.

Laughing in surprise, you felt heat rush to your face. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one that needs to be making it up to you.”

“Agree to disagree, sweetheart. We’re going to go open the office, but I’ll see you tonight. I love you.” He lingered over the last three words, tone dipping into pure reverence—the exact pitch that made your stomach flutter as he revealed just how much he cared about you.

“I love you too, Matt. Apologize to Foggy and Karen for me? Tell them I owe them at least three bagels a piece.”

“Three? That’s a pretty steep fee, love. I think I can talk ‘em down.”

Shaking your head with a giggle, you bit your lip. “Thank you for looking out for me, Matty. I hope you have a good day.”

“You too, angel. Call me if you need anything, ok? If I can’t talk right then, I’ll call back when I can. But I’m here if you need me.”

“Ok. Thank you.” Listening as the line disconnected, your heart clenched with disappointment as reality set in—you had an entire day of work to get through before you got to see your partner. Gaze dropping to the haphazard stacks of sheet music draped over your knees, you groaned, hefting them into your arms and dumping them on your desk to organize. Hopefully your sluggish mind could handle the repetitive task without too much issue.

Meandering up the stairs at a snail's pace, each bend of your knee took intense concentration. You were ready to keel over and pass out, letting the guilt and frustration and embarrassment that had amassed over the day fade into oblivion as if it had never happened.

After missing your morning coffee date, and ruining a week's worth of office organization, your day had not improved. Your murky brain had managed to sort the piles of sheet music into the correct songs, but it had taken every drop of your energy. In an effort to perk up before your hours of meetings, you'd thrown back a few more cups of coarse break room coffee—which tasted disgustingly similar to pond water as the day progressed. Each forced swallow stung with the reminder that your forgetfulness had cost you a decent latte and a much needed outing with your boyfriend.

Even four cups of the bog water masquerading as your beloved caffeinated drink couldn't solve your boredom when the administration started rambling on about test scores and parent satisfaction. Graph after graph flashed before your eyes, blending into a drab collage hung on the walls of your brain. When you hadn't shown enough enthusiasm for the new district mandates surrounding attendance and compulsory study hall, your principal had chewed you out—scolding you for not being a team player, for putting your own interests ahead of the success of your students. It took every ounce of resolve you could muster not to burst into tears right there at the conference table.

Finally, they'd dismissed you and you'd gathered your things to leave—only to be caught in a downpour on your walk to Matt's. Though your things were protected by the thick fabric of your messenger bag, you hadn't brought any form of poncho or jacket, so you were utterly soaked when you reached his building.

The fates were clearly determined to drag you down. And, given the exhaustion seeping out of your every pore and the harrowing tightness in your abdomen, you were ready to submit to their malevolent will. You wanted to curl up in a ball and hibernate for a week. If nothing would go right, what was the point of squandering your energy day in and day out to achieve mediocrity?

Bottom lip trembling as tears rolled down your cheeks, you stumbled across the landing to Matt's door—sticking your spare key into the lock and wiggling it. The damn thing didn't budge.

”C'mon!“ You muttered, fresh tears beading in the corners of your eyes as you jiggled the key furiously. ”Open you stupid—“ As you pushed at the small piece of brass with your fingers, it slipped from your grip, your hand smacking against the door frame with the residual energy.

A sob escaped you, your frustration boiling over when your psyche was presented with another obstacle. Yanking the key out and dropping it to the floor, you slid down, back against the cool wood, your sopping jeans squelching as they hit the floor. With a heaving breath, you brought your shaking hands up to your face, trying to soothe your frazzled heart before deciding your next move.

Inhale for 7. Out for 11. Just like you told your kids when they got jittery on the night of a big performance. It wouldn't fix your mood, but it could help you get a grip.

Staring down at the offending hunk of metal on the carpet, your brain flickered with realization. It wasn't the right key. Your own apartment key and Matt's were the same color because you'd made copies together, but the bows were shaped differently. The key to your apartment had a rounded head, while the spare to Matt's had a pointed one. He'd suggested the difference in design to help him keep the two separate.

Heat creeping up your neck, you shoved the damn thing back in your pocket, pulling out your lanyard and singling out the correct key in the line up. 

Your legs shook tremendously as you clambered to your feet, barely functioning enough to keep you upright as you hauled yourself into Matt's apartment. With every step into the loft, your soggy flats squished with your weight, surely leaving a trail of sweat and rainwater behind you. Dropping your bag against the wall where it wouldn’t be a tripping-hazard for your boyfriend, you scrubbed at your clammy cheeks with a fist, padding into the bedroom.

It was quiet, beyond the sliding door. The brick walls and insulation muffling the New York ambiance into a gentle hum, barely noticeable over the buzz of the central AC. A soft, manufactured breeze whirled around you, raising the hair along your limbs. Your damp clothes did nothing to protect you from the temperature change, the frigid air sliding right through them, latching on to the thin layer of moisture against your skin.

With numb fingers, you fumbled for the buttons on the back of your top, ripping off your drenched blouse and replacing it with one of Matt's warm hoodies. As soon as you had shoved your arms into the garment, your discomfort began to fade away. It smelled distinctly of Matt, rather than the stale stench of wet cotton you'd been carrying around. Unzipping your pants, you stripped out of those as well, replacing your underwear with a pair of clean boxers. Mental breakdown stalled for now, you lifted the comforter strewn across the familiar mattress and sunk into the silk sheets with a fatigued exhale.

You were out like a light.

Matt’s lips quirked up at the sound of rustling sheets, his fingers still tapping away on his laptop. Momentarily pausing, he tuned in to your vitals, listening carefully as you roused. Your heart rate picked up, an almost imperceptible sigh leaving you as you wriggled about in his bed.

With a pitiful groan, you untangled yourself from a cocoon of his sheets, ambling out of his bedroom on heavy feet. He was pretty sure you thought you were alone–the tiny gasp as you opened his bedroom door confirming his suspicions.

“Matty?” Your lilted voice was dipped in precarious optimism. Baring your teeth with the tiniest smile, you readily accepted his lifted arm as an invitation to snuggle in beside him on the couch. Setting his laptop and headphones aside, Matt engulfed you with his arms, grinning into your hair as you went limp against his chest with a pleased hum.

“Hi, sleepyhead. Did you have a good nap?” You pouted at his teasing comment, grumbling against his chest. He chuckled, cradling the back of your head so he could plant a kiss on your crown. “I'm not judging you, pretty girl. I'm glad you got some rest. Seems like you had a bad day.”

“How did you know?” You mumbled, rubbing at your eyes as Matt adjusted until you lay steadily across his lap.

“You missed breakfast and you hate the school's coffee, your clothes in my hamper are drenched, and I ran into Mrs. Gomez who warned me of an amateur burglar outside my apartment earlier.” There was a soft slap of skin against skin as you dropped your head into your hands with a moan.

“I was hoping I wouldn't have to relive that particular detail.”

“Sweetheart, if you wanted to spend time with me, you could have stopped by the office. No need to commit a petty crime to get my undivided attention.”

“Ma-att” You groaned, jabbing him weakly in the stomach with a knuckle.

“I mean, I'm sure Foggy would agree to take your case, but seriously it would save a lot of paper if you–” He broke off into a genuine laugh when you shoved off the couch, pouting profusely he was sure. Chasing after you with ease, he caught you by an elbow, angling you back towards him so he could gently kiss your lips. “Sorry, sweetheart. But the image of you trying to break in was too adorable to let slide.”

“That's mean, Matt. Kicking your girlfriend when she's down. Bullying.” You glowered, your arms loosening from their tight cross over your chest as he peppered your head with soft kisses.

“Mmm you're right,” Matt murmured, lips brushing over the bridge of your nose. “I'm sorry to bring it up. Do I need to worry about any broken locks or windows?”

He could practically hear your exaggerated eye roll. “I didn't break anything. I have a key.”  You grumbled, not seeing the humor in the experience.

“What happened, angel? Did you leave it at work?” His question was genuine, but his teasing smirk seemed to push you over the edge.

Tears pooled in your eyes as your chin dropped to your chest with embarrassment. “It just took me a few tries to open the door. I did manage to remember the one thing I needed to get into your apartment.”

You didn't mean for the comment to sound so snarky, but you weren't really in the mood to be picked on. Matt's banter usually cheered you up, enticing you into joking right back with him. Today, though? The idea that Matt expected you to have forgotten another important thing was far too realistic to be humorous.

“Hey,” Matt tutted sympathetically, his amused grin morphing into a slight frown while his brow furrowed with concern. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to upset you.”

“I'm not being oblivious on purpose, Matt. I don't know why I'm like this right now.” You sniffled, hastily wiping away the tracks of moisture forming on your cheeks.

“I know, sweets. I know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to poke fun.” Swaying you from side to side as if he was comforting a fussy infant, Matt stroked your scalp as he shushed you. It would've been easy to see the change in his behavior as offensive, but Matt's small repetitive movements and hushed tone were comforting, so you leaned into what he provided.

“I'm tired, Matt. I'm so tired and I'm trying so hard to remember everything but I..I can't.” Lips quivering, you squeezed your eyes shut as another wave of tears pooled in them.

“I know, love. I know you're trying.” Matt assured you, scooping you into his arms and settling back on the couch. “It's just been a bad week. It'll get better.”

“What if it doesn't? What if this is how I am now?” You worried aloud, the hormones clouding your brain triggering a fresh surge of anxiety.

“Then we'll deal with it.” Matt shrugged, speaking as if this was the only possible outcome.

“I love you.” You whispered, nudging your nose into the hinge of Matt's jaw. His throat rumbled under your cheek as he echoed your declaration.

“I love you too, angel. Always.”

“Even when I'm scatterbrained and overly emotional?” You asked timidly, your own discomfort with your unusual period symptoms skewing your expectations.

“Without a doubt, my love.” Matt craned his head to kiss your hairline, frowning as you shuddered into the touch. ”Still tired?“

You nodded against him with a frustrated sigh. “I don't know why, I feel like all I've done this week is sleep.”

“You had a tough day, sweetheart. That would wear me out too.” Matt reasoned, tugging a knit throw off the back of his couch and tucking it around you securely.

“But I want to spend time with you,” You groused, the edges of your words muzzy as sleep tugged at your consciousness.

“There’s plenty of time for us to spend together, ok? Just rest. I’ll wake you when food gets here.” 

“You ordered food?”

“I did,” Matt murmured. “I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten today, so I ordered Thai and pizza. Whatever we don’t eat tonight, you can take for lunch tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, Matty.” You whispered gratefully.

“Anytime, sweet girl. I love you.” Repositioning so you were sprawled against his chest, the two of you fully horizontal, Matt rubbed circles into your upper back, lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002

[incorrectmahabharatquotes]

Genuinely curious, because you seem to hate the Ram Mandir... or how you think one party/ruling government is using it for political gain/votes or how it's wasting money etc.

What do you have to say about the Waqf board act? Or the infamous Shah Bano case and the way the Rajiv Gandhi government went against the decision of the Supreme Court to favour Muslim patriarchy. Or the fact that the Congress government banned books like the Satanic Verses to please a certain community. Is this not politics of appeasement?

You say that the ruling party is playing politics over religion, but hasn't every party done it? It's not like BJP was even hiding it, they've been campaigning for the Ram Mandir rebuilding for decades. It doesn't make it automatically a bad move.

Besides, Ram Mandir is built through devotee donations, so why so much vitriol against it? If Hindus are giving money to construct a temple, it's solely their own decision. I genuinely don't understand why there's so much hatred for it. If a community is reclaiming their holy land, which had been forcibly ruined and rebuilt into another type of building, it's not a bad thing. Plus, a big chunk of land was given to the Sunny Waqf board to build a beautiful mosque in Ayodhya itself, which has begun construction this year (iirc). Both communities will have their interests restored.

Why can't we move on and celebrate the Ram Mandir rebuilding and inauguration? Is decolonization and reclaiming of a place of cultural significance not important?

(I know that some people are being too aggressive about it, but the majority isn't. They're simply celebrating and praying. And some of them actually got attacked for it.)

Okay. Since you're genuinely curious, I'll answer this.

"Why am I criticising the current ruling party for playing politics of appeasement and not any of the other parties?" I'm criticizing them BECAUSE they're the ruling party. They have been in power for close to 10 years now. That's more than 1/3rd of my whole life. This is a hilarious question because I would've been criticizing the same action if it would've been taken by any other political party. I don't have a problem with the party, I have a problem with what they're doing. All citizens are SUPPOSED to do this, my friend. Criticizing your government on what they're doing wrong is a fundamental part of a democracy.

"Politics of appeasement." I hope you understand the difference between appeasement and religious nationalism. The ruling party isn't appeasing anyone. Their acts are guided by their political ideology of Hindutva. I fundamentally disagree with their ideology. I do not agree with them when they say being Hindu is integral to being an Indian. I do not believe in maintaining a Hindu hegemony in India. I simply refuse to accept an ideology that was LITERALLY INSPIRED BY FASCISM AND THE IDEAS OF RACIAL SUPERIORITY.

"What do you have to say about so-and-so?" You know, I would've criticised things I believe are harming our country and power when the governments you speak of were in power. Unfortunately, in certain cases I was not alive then to criticize them and in a few cases, I was a child and I did not know how to form complex sentences. I do not believe in essentialism, you understand? I do not believe that any religion or political party is essentially good or bad. I believe in judging them for what they do.

"They've been campaigning for the Ram Mandir for decades. It doesn't make it automatically a bad move." It's imperative for you to understand this, it is politically a good move and in all other ways a HORRIBLE move. They get the support of all the Hindus who make up the majority of the population? Decent political move. Who could begrudge them for using DIVIDE AND CONQUER as a strategy? But in doing so, what kind of monster have they created? Have they created a billion people who think religious-nationalism is an okay direction for the country's future? Is that a good move, I ask you.

"Ram mandir is built through devotee donations so it's okay." That's close to ₹1,800 crores. (Estimated amount because of course, there's no transparency in the donation system so that we know who donated what amount.) Do you seriously believe all that money came out of the pockets of average working class Indians? Or did the ultra wealthy businessmen fund this religious project and get massive tax breaks in the process? But yes, I'm sure there's no fuckery going on with the money because it's out of DEVOTION. That makes it okay, I guess.

Now we come to the part that is the worst part of this anon message, according to me.

"Reclamation and decolonization." You use these words so lightly and I find that offensive. These words are HIGHLY tied to power structures. Who has the power right now? Is it the mythic evil Islamic conquerors of 400 years ago? Or is it a political party that believes in hindu nationalism and is funded by the ultra wealthy billionaires because said party helps them get even richer? Who is reclaiming what here? I want you to ask yourself this. Can a powerful majority claim reclamation when they tear down a building to build another building there?

"They tore down the temple and built a mosque there" And now you've torn down the mosque and built a temple there. Congratulations, you've won the game. Where do we go from here? Will everyone be happy now? Has peace been restored? A great evil destroyed? What story are we telling ourselves here? Will the religious fanaticism go away now? Will the hatred that has been cultivated in the hearts of Hindus against Muslims be sated? Or will it find more avenues to spread itself?

Decolonizing the mind, right? I wonder why we're only focused on decolonizing against the islamic past and not anything else. But it's okay that India is currently colonising Kashmir. We don't believe in decolonisation when it comes to Kashmir. We don't believe in decolonizing from the system of capitalism that is choking the lives out of us. HELL, WE DON'T EVEN BELIEVE IN RECLAMATION SEEING HOW WE HAVE A PROBLEM WITH GIVING THE BARE MINIMUM RESERVATION TO CERTAIN COMMUNITIES AS A REPARATION FOR THE HARM THEY'VE HISTORICALLY AND CURRENTLY SUFFERED AND ARE STILL SUFFERING.

I don't want people to talk to me about reclamation, reparation and decolonisation before they accept their own hypocrisy.

Anon, you say have so much vitriol and hate towards a mandir. I should let people celebrate. Did I stop you personally from celebrating? Did I beat up somebody for trying to shove their religious agenda on me? All I did was talk about how sad I am that this is what we've decided to do with our country's resources. Why is one voice of dissent such a big deal to you? Do you want me to shut up and fall in line? Will that be acceptable?

- Mod S

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Maybe I'm just searching the wrong thing because I know there are some out there, but fics with the Warblers and ND as Klaine shippers?

I think the initial shipping of Klaine by either Warblers or ND took place in season 2, and a lot of fan fics being written 2011 - it's worth looking through livejournal.com, and also fanfiction.net, searching for those early fics. There are some on A03 if you select "ascending" when searching BA/KH as the relationship. ~Jen

Here are some we compiled in previous asks:

Steal A Heart Verse by MochaCappuccino

Blaine offers to help Kurt afford Dalton by having him room with him. Kurt repays him by helping him through his family drama. Love, angst, adventure, and lots of sex ensues.

~~~~~

Welcome To Dalton Academy, Kurt by stargleekbelle  [PDF]

Kurt is driven to extreme measures when his life at McKinley spirals out of control. A couple of months into his junior year, he transfers to Dalton Academy where he befriends a group of boys who refuse to let him be the victim and teach him how to love himself once more.

~~~~~

Together, We Are the Oceans by Aelora

When the Warblers get the opportunity to perform on a cruise ship over the holidays, Kurt can barely believe his luck at spending the time with Blaine. What he doesn’t count on is the friendships he makes, and the love he feels for his friend returned.

~~~~~

Dalton’s OTP by @lady-divine-writes

Kurt and Blaine have just been voted Dalton’s OTP of the month. The only thing is, they’re not dating. Will this stupid school article convince them that they were meant to be together - because they’ve been together this whole time, even if they didn’t realize it?

~~~~~

Secret Agents by DustyDreams

If Blaine is going to gush about Kurt, it should be at Kurt. This, at least, is how his best friends feel after three weeks of the non-stop Hummel network.

~~~~~

Scribbles, Spies, and Little White Lies by aspiringtoeloquence

Blaine and Kurt have been friends for months, and it’s about time they were more than that - this is what Wes and David have decided, and, luckily for Blaine and Kurt, they have formulated the perfect plan to make sure it happens…

~~~~~

Facebook: The Klaine Story by Babychickies

From ‘Never Been Kissed’ to 'New York’. See what happened with Kurt and Blaine on Facebook during these episodes.

~~~~~

Bound To Happen by undapperthought

GKM Fill. “The Warblers are sick and tired of all the unresolved sexual tension between Kurt and Blaine, so they handcuff them together, leaving them alone to figure things out between them.”

~~~~~

Mistletoe Mishap by @gleefuldarrencrissfan

It’s nearing Christmas and Kurt and Blaine still haven’t kissed yet. Finally, Nick and Jeff decide to intervene. [Nick’s and Jeff’s POVs]

~~~~~

Captaining the ship by Scarlett Rogue

Everyone knows Puck is captain of the Klaine Train, but how did it begin, and what does Puck think of some of Klaine's big moments?

~~~~~

Here is a list on livejournal, where Blaine meets the ND - not sure it's what you want, but worth checking. (I havent checked them all, most seem to be on Ff.net. Jen

Discovery by theembarrassingone. Dissecting New Directions by areyoumayray. Telling New Directions by Crazy4Klaine. Dalton Boy by NotSorry. Finally by lindsay scuto. You Felt That, Right? by AweSoMeLAgain. the boyfriend by superredhead37. Reactions by history-writer86. Rebuilding by history-writer86. (I think I'm gonna check out the rest of their stuff. This one's a prologue to another story and it sounds pretty good.) Arts and Crafts Aisle by Wakah. It's not 100% what you're looking for but it is and alternative meeting of Kurt and Blaine and thusly New Directions. Double Date by Phantom of a Rose. I recommend all of her stuff. Kurt's new friend by Nija assasian. So Take a Chance And Don't Ever Look Back by Kyra Rivers. Gleeky Gossip by TheseHideousKreachers. It Will Always Be You by iklaintevenmad. Taking Different Directions by JoshuaAshita. Why Won't They Believe Me? by aalikane. First Impressions by rmuurph.klaine. Hospital by rockenweirdo. Who's that? by rmuurph.klaine.

[mollymagician]

Helllooo so, reading certain fun posts over at @gabessquishytum ‘s place got me thinking of one of my fave movies and like—

Dream spent years trapped by social expectations in an unhappy and unwanted marraige with Alex Burgess, ignored and withdrawn into his own little world. He has his greenhouse and his bizarre prize-winning hybrid roses, his unpublished forever-not-quite-finished manuscripts, and that’s enough, he thinks.

Until Alex kicks the proverbial bucket and Dream learns that the Burgess family fortune has been so badly mismanaged, he’s inherited nothing from his late husband but a drafty old mansion sitting on a pile of debt.

The creditors are closing in and Dream…hates the house. He always hated it. But dammit, spite is a hell of a drug. He hates his family as much as he ever hated Alex and Fawney Rig, and he refuses to be kicked out of his own home. He needs a source of income, asap.

Luckily his gardener Matthew has pot plants growing in the hedges and more optimism than sense. Win win!

Pretty soon there’s A Lot More than prizewinning roses growing in Dream’s greenhouse. A lot more. Dream must have some sort of eldrich gardening powers, because this stuff is insanely potent and is also growing out of control. They need to find some way to unload this crop, and fast. Dream needs money. The authorities are getting suspicious. Matthew doesn’t want to go to prison. The whole town knows. So off they head towards the big city to try to find a buyer.

And find a buyer they do!

Hob Gadling isn’t…exactly a crime lord. He’d never describe himself that way. He’s just a creatively savvy businessman. And he’s never been more entertained by ANYONE more than he is by this gorgeous and charmingly awkward lunatic who’s somehow wandered into his little seedy underworld with a gardener and the weirdest story that he’s ever heard. He’s head over heels, instantly. And he’s determined to keep Dream out of trouble, if not just because Dream’s wildly delicious, than at least because Hob firmly believes that no one should go to jail for objectively funny crimes.

…I’m just trying to decide who it is in this version of the story that ends up on the floor, stoned out of their mind, eating cereal out of the box and wearing googly-eye glasses. Please watch this movie, for that scene ALONE.

…The gardener in the film’s actually named Matthew and I tend to envision my Sandman-verse human!Matthew based on the Matthew from this flick. Though Grace’s gardener!Matthew was actually Scottish. (The trying-pot-for-the-first-time scene works just as well with Dream looking at Matthew, blurting out “…you’re American!” and then laughing like a lunatic.)

…After the Whole Incident At The End That No One In Town Can Remember, Dream and Hob rename Fawney Rig to Fiddler’s Green, Dream publishes his novels, and of course they rebuild the greenhouse. Bigger this time. And everyone lives happily ever after.

[fictionadventurer]

Maid Malden and Summer Starfall?

The "Maid Maleen" retelling-in-verse was the most serious of my brainstorming attempts, and came very close to being an actual WIP, titled Seven Years Dreaming. It would have started with a Maleen who had a pretty carefree childhood--she had a fond mother who let her roam in the outdoors, and she came to love the landscape and the people of her nation. Then, after her mother died and she came of age, she was put into the box of "perfect princess" and only valued as a faceless, nameless, identity-less marriage prospect.

She falls in love with a prince who does see her as a person, but unfortunately, her father arranges her marriage to cruel, powerful man, and when Maleen refuses, she's sentenced to seven years in the tower. Her handmaid is sentenced along with her because she tried to help Maleen with an escape attempt.

And then the seven years in the tower offers a lot of potential for poems that show the passage of time--how they try to hang onto their memories of the outside world and keep up their spirits, and how that becomes more difficult as isolation warps their sense of time.

After their escape, the story becomes hazy. I know that Maleen has to deal with both her joy at seeing the outside world again and her sorrow at the destruction of her land. She has lost her throne and the expectations that come with it, yet she finds that she wants to be able to help her land. She has to come to a new sense of identity and find a new purpose now that she's essentially been reborn into a new world in need of rebuilding.

Anyway, this fairy tale offers a wide range of emotions and plot points that provide a lot of potential for different poems, but I wasn't quite sure how to arrange that into a coherent character arc. I feel like that was the kind of thing that would have to develop as the story was written, but unfortunately, I didn't get any of it written down before the inspiration passed.

[rom-e-o]

20 Questions! Ebenezer/Constance Headcanons

I’m working on another larger project for these two, but in the interim, here’s an OC prompts tag. I mashed a few different lists together to create a list that made sense for an 1800s-verse story. These are just for fun, haha!

So, allons-y!

Who’s the primary protector of the two?

Both are quite ferocious, but in different ways! Ebenezer is the more obviously and openly protective one. He has a more domineering presence and quite the harsh tongue, although after his visits with the spirits, he doesn’t enjoy using it. There will be times at parties where someone will be making eyes at his wife and he’ll send a glare in their direction. Constance is much harder to provoke, but if someone goes after someone she cares for, she is a socialite trained in the ways of verbal fencing. If she truly wants to ruin someone, her words can be as cutting and lethal as blades.

2.       Who sleeps in and who is the early bird? 

 Before meeting Constance, Ebenezer had always been an early riser. He kept a strict schedule of rising at sunrise daily, even on ‘days off.’ However, after meeting Constance (and especially after they start sleeping together and enjoying each other’s company late into the night) he learns to enjoy sleeping in. It’s hard to leave the warmth of the bed, especially when he’s got his arms wrapped around his often-nude lover.

3.       Who is the least patient? 

Both are pretty much the same. Both are incredibly patient, sometimes to a fault. This sometimes results in delayed communication on things that could be brought up sooner. Thankfully, most issues that could evolve into fights are resolved because they do communicate and know to bring up potential misunderstandings before they grow into something harder to control

4.       Which of the two listens to old music and which one is more into the newer stuff?

Ebenezer and Constance both enjoy the works of Mozart, and Ebenezer particularly enjoys the works of composers from this Classical period. Constance enjoys music and orchestras, but is much more open to different genres of opera and theater. More often than not, she breaks him out of his comfort zone and encourages him to come with her to see a newer production.

5.       Who’s the first one to quit a new hobby because they’re not great at it on the first try?

Constance, just because of her lower self-confidence. To be fair, she is also the one who is much more likely to try new things in general, while Ebenezer tends to stay in what he sees as ‘his lane.’

6.       Who holds a grudge the longest?

Ebenezer will hold a grudge the longest. If his trust in someone is spoiled, it will be very difficult to rebuild, even if he tells someone they are ‘forgiven’.

7.       Who secretly knows all the lyrics to the other’s favorite songs but refuses to expose themselves?

Ebenezer. Once he learns about an opera she loves or a play she likes, he’ll learn the numbers to sing them or perform them on the piano.

8.       Who’s more likely to cry about a plant dying?

CONSTANCE. She is a terrible gardener, despite her best efforts. 

9.       Which of the two is the most outspoken?

Constance is much more extroverted and outgoing, but is also easily embarrassed. Ebenezer is more reserved, but also more confident.

10.     Which of the two is quick to speak and which one is quick to listen?

Although Ebenezer is the more quiet of the two, he find it easy to open up to Constance and chat. He could talk for hours about projects or details of work, and Constance never cuts him off. Ever. In the same vein, he is always entertained and smitten when she rambles about topics she adores.

When it comes to getting a word in against a foe, Ebenezer is more likely to snap, and has done it before. 

11.     Who’s the most eager to have kids?

Ebenezer has always secretly wanted children, despite what happened to his sister in childbirth. Seeing Harry and Hela’s baby reawakened that desire of his to start a family.

12.     Which of the two rolls their eyes the most often?

EBENEZER. All the time, but never in a mean-spirited way.

13.     Who’s an open book and which one is more reserved?

Connie is the open book, and Ebenezer is more reserved. She goes all in, and he keeps his cards closer to his chest. This carries over into the bedroom as well, where Constance is often the one to...inspire new positions and actions.

14.     Who gets the most invested in their hyperfixations?

Ebenezer. He sometimes gets so engrossed in his work, projects, or other hobbies (particularly the detail-oriented ones, such as tabulating data for different accounts) that hours to an entire day will pass. Constance has to remind him to eat or rest sometimes, especially if he’d determined to meet a deadline.

“Have you eaten today?”

“Huh? Oh, um...I suppose I became distracted.”

“I had a feeling. Here, I brought you a pastry and tea. Can you spare a few moments for a break?”

“Heavens above, what would I do without you?” 

15.     Which one’s the first to help a stranger in need?

Ebenezer. He literally met Constance because she was wandering London in need of shelter. He offered her shelter when she was basically homeless, and that led to their entire courtship and romance.

16.     Which of the two is the most gullible?

Constance, but she knows she’s gullible. It’s mostly out of kindness rather than actual naivete.

17.     Which of the two acts bothered by the other one but secretly enjoys every second of it?

Ebenezer has a tendency to roll his eyes when Constance, well, acts like herself. She enjoys being theatrical, flirty, fun and being a little silly. The eye-rolls and sighs are all in good fun, with him more so playing along with the act rather than actually expressing discomfort or annoyance.

18.     Who’s more likely to get into a bar fight?

Ebenezer, likely because someone had the audacity to insult Constance or make a lewd joke at her expense. She, on the other hands, usually takes words/insults on the nose. A couple shots of straight vodka or gin helps take the edge off.

19.     Who’s the optimist and who’s the pessimist?

Ebenezer is quite the optimist since his redemption. While being a pessimist is in his nature, he tries to look on the bright side more often and keep his mind open to scenarios or events. Contrarily, Constance is an optimist naturally, but prone to depression, hopelessness and mania. Usually, if one is experiencing mania or sadness, the other can jump in.

20.     Who is the most amorous?

THEY ARE EQUALLY GUILTY. They both not only switch the roles of initiator and receiver, but also top and bottom.

[blackknight-100]

hi! helloo! i saw you were writing for hobbit!thranduil prompts and can i ask for a slightly different one: young thranduil in doriath fic? only if you're comfortable with silm!thranduil though!

also, i hope you have a comfortable journey!

Hello there, anon! Thank you for your wishes! I'm not well versed in Silm so the timeline might be skewed but here you go:

Spring comes to Doriath one little flower and one little leaf at a time, and it is then that Oropher's youngest child slips into the world - all raucous screams and spun gold hair. Tiruwen holds her son close to her breast and calls him her 'little spring'.

Thranduil of Doriath is quiet and shy, like the deer that wander around the girdle. The sight of royalty and ballrooms sends him squirreling behind his mother's skirts, and despite his father's worries, his sisters laugh.

Melian the Maia Queen finds Caladhwen's precocious brother up a tree one day, and summons the boy's father almost at once.

"I will have him be my apprentice," she says, smiling her otherworldly smile and Oropher realises she is not asking but informing him.

"Yes, My Lady," he answers with a bow, for he would never refuse the Queen even if it were in his place to do so.

On the tenth year of his apprenticeship Thranduil, now thirty summers old, meets Luthien Tinuviel in the Lady's Hallowed Garden. The elf-princess laughs when she realizes he is playing truant, and asks him to dance with her. It is the most memorable day of his life.

The dwarves fall upon Doriath one winter when Thranduil is a year away from his eightieth birthday. They bring blood and war and death with them, and leave Thranduil weeping upon his mother's corpse. He watches the blood seep into freshly fallen snow, and swears to make the dwarves pay.

Dior the fair is a beloved King. Luthien's son comes to a city marred by dwarvish rape, and rebuilds it from the ground. Thranduil, now warden of girdle guards, watches over the borders that no longer remain safe. Melian's loss is one he feels keenly, and he strays further and further from Menegroth each day, towards more dangerous outposts. Dwarves he cannot find, but most of the times Morgoth's orcs suffice.

The Feanorians come two years after Thranduil reaches his majority, and catch him in the weaponry taking off his armour. This time he is a trained warrior, and by the time he reaches his sister fallen at Queen Nimloth's door, his spear is wet with Noldor blood. He would fall to his knees, but his Queen beckons him from where she is sprawled on the carpet, sword in her belly and breath coming in gasps.

"El-" she begins, then coughs up blood. "Take Elwing! There!"

Thranduil turns. Crouched under the vanity is Elwing, his princess and Doriath's heir. He dares not ask about the twins. He does not try to save Nimloth. Instead, he gathers little Elwing up in his arms and runs.

[found-wings]

ooooo okay procrastinating rn but taking a look at the quackity and elquackity situation- with how the federation seems happy with how he is right now, I'd like to assume that their idea of 'fixed' means that the subject is no longer combative and hostile and stays consistently passive and pretty much not causing problems or breaking island rules.

take this as you will when it comes to the federations idea on how to 'fix' phil and what behaviors he may or may not lose when coming back from their facilities

(trying extremely hard not to think about him keeping his love for building and item collection and most of his personality, but over time losing the ambition to fight more and more with every trip to the federation) (refusing to acknowledge how this impacts sparing sessions with etoiles as it's too painful) (good news is that it does open up room for comfort of etoiles helping phil rebuild that lost fighting spirit to distract himself from going after whoever sent phil back there and made this happen :D) - 💿

I want to start this off by saying that as soon as I finished reading this, I put down my phone, stood up from my chair and proceeded to lay down on the floor

ANYWAYS, WHEEZE

Have this silly thought rambling??? Whatever it is, it’s a bit messy but shhh

But we all know Phil is a fighter. He doesn‘t always fight physically and is just as well versed in fighting for his own opinion with words. He‘s strict about his beliefs and trust - we see this very often with Phil refusing to listen to the Federation but staying enough ‘in line‘ so they have no reason to hurt his Eggs. We see this when he immediately recognised the fake Chayanne & Tallulah as fakes because his Children would never step out of line in serious matters. We see this when he‘s the one shouting at people to stop hesitating, when fighting the fakes of his Children and the sheer confidence he has even when Etoiles has to help him in the fight.

Phil is confident in even the smallest of his decisions and Etoiles admires that.

So imagine when Phil returns the first time from the Federation. When that confidence is paired up with the aggressive, unusual behaviour and the two go head to head against each other in a fight.

Phil is a fighter, and Etoiles has to play his cards right to purposely exhaust and down Phil before anything worse happens. The sparring sessions of the two helps immensely as Etoiles has gotten used to how Phil fights, two just as experienced forces clashing against each other head on.

So imagine when Phil returns the second time from the Federation. When that confidence is chipped at by the betrayal of people they are supposed to call friends and suddenly, the weapons that Etoiles helped Phil with feel heavier.

It takes a little bit for Phil to return to his usual confidence and Etoiles is right there with him - he makes sure that Phils steps return to the light and quick ones he’s familiar with. He ignites the fire in Phil again, and the pain of lost trust is filled with the one of a deepening friendship.

So imagine when Phil starts to lose track on the amount of times he finds himself returning from the Federation. Has it been the third or fourth time? Did Cucurucho drag him back, or did he willingly go by himself? Phil can‘t remember. Maybe it‘s better that way.

The weapons in his hands start to feel wrong. Fighting feels wrong and the fire that Etoiles once ignited in him feels wrong. Phil feels wrong.

So Phil turns to building and collecting - Etoiles occasionally brings a few new items for his collection and every time Etoiles asks for a sparring match, he quietly excuses himself to go back to building and collecting.

Phil still travels and laughs, he still teases and banters with Etoiles and the few people that still trust and visit him - but he stops fighting.

Phil complies and follows, hands shaking subconsciously yet almost violently at the thought of ever touching a weapon or speaking up against the Federation again. His head hangs lower and lower when he passes by the Federation Workers.

Etoiles watches as Phils fighting spirit slowly fades and it hurts much more than he‘d want to admit.

This time, the Federation gave him Phil back and yet Etoiles watches Phil slip from his grasp anyway.

[felixcloud6288]

Fullmetal Alchemist Chapter 78

10 days have passed after the last chapter.

I'm absolutely certain Mustang's crew were all sent away to be killed. Every single one of them is in a hotbed location for the national transmutation circle. Looks like Falman passed the information about the circle to Breda and Fuery.

And Sloth has finished the tunnel. It's been about two weeks since he was put back into the tunnel so I'm going to guess the tunnel was started very close to Briggs. Maybe the passage Kimblee found last chapter was near the starting point?

We're back in Reole. About 4 months prior, Ed revealed the Leto church to be a sham and reported it to East HQ. Eastern Troops came in to keep the area from falling into a riot. But then Central troops were deployed and the Eastern forces were dismissed. That's when the riots turned violent. That was roughly a week or two later. About a month later, the riots were under control, but many lives were lost.

No explanation is given why the riots stopped. Maybe all the Leto supporters were killed or maybe everyone just were tired of fighting. The Homunculi got what they wanted so there was no need to continue riling people up. Now, everyone's coming together to fix the damage that's been done and move forward.

Rose managed to take Ed's words to heart. Last we saw her, she was on the floor crying because she'd discovered everything she believed was a lie.

But now she's managing to smile despite everything that's happened and she's doing what she can to rebuild and move forward.

There must have been a need for multiple access points to the tunnel for moving refuse and to just get Sloth back on task quickly when he wandered off.

Remember how I mentioned the tunnel was being dug counterclockwise and Sloth had come from the East when he reached Briggs? Do you know where you'd end up if you traveled along a circlular arc traveling southeast from Briggs? You'd reach Reole.

Pride's shadow is large, but it's not infinitely large. Hohenheim said it can move freely within the tunnel, not that it is everywhere. So Pride has likely been hanging around the east part of the tunnel to overlook the processes to remove rubble and guard the newer entry points from any potential intruders.

The survey team Pride killed had probably gotten too close to Reole and Pride ended up discovering them on its patrols.

Hohenheim and Pride's discussion implies the concept of the seven deadly sins exists in the FMA verse. It doesn't seem to be a concept in Amestris though since no one connected the dots over the naming scheme. I'm going to say that in-universe, it was specific to Cselkcess culture and religion.

And Hohenheim is calling Father out. He's surprised Father put in the effort to make Pride look like his old form, and he calls Father arrogant and pompous. Hohenheim knows Father is a hack.

10 days is too short to deploy a military force like the one from Drachma. We also need to remove additional days to account for Kimblee traveling to the country and informing them about Major General Armstrong being recalled.

Al hasn't put his legs back on. Is he still blacking out? Are they worried he might fall over?

And once again, Arakawa is being a coward cause we're not seeing the buttcheek part of that leg.

We also now know Jelso is the frog chimera and Zanpano is the porcupine(?) chimera.

And Zanpano is making a call to the President. Since he was working with Kimblee, he probably had the President's number. I just want to know why Envy is answering the line.

Wrath: Hello President's office. Fuhrer President King Bradley speaking. Zanpano: I'm here to report the whereabouts of Marcoh. Wrath: One moment. *Shouting* Envy, it's for you! Envy: *Excitedly runs into the room and grabs the phone* Hello? You said something about Dr. Marcoh?

back

[siderealxmelody]

The Aes Sidhe

Main verse: The Forever War Verse

As the Asteri's civil war raged many looked for greener pastures. The fae lands of Alfeihm was a prime target, rich in magic and metals, it would a perfect place for the Asteri to rebuild and resume their war.

Their only problem was the Aes Sidhe, or the Primals as the fae called them. The Aes Sidhe protected and guarded the Fae lands. The oldest among them rivaled the Asteri and Valg Royals. The Asteri payed Valg to manipulate the Fae to overthrow their protectors.

The Aes Sidhe hadn't seen it coming, the wave of destruction decimated their homes and territories. Their dragon forms were cut down and picked apart for money, spells, and weapons of war.

The Aes Sidhe in dissaray fractured. Some, like the Aen Eldari fled to the witch lands of Nidavellir. They made a deal with the witches, becoming their mounts in response of protection from the Fae who still hunted them.

Others, the Aen Sendri fled to the tunnels under the fae lands. Tunnels, that was said crisscross across the realms. They sacrificed their dragonic forms for the soul and sacrifical magic. They became raiders and warriors bent on taking their home back.

The Aes Sidhe as a whole haven't recovered from this even a millenia later. As one of the Aen Sendri sought to unite the race under her banner - the Aen Eldari fought back, refusing to bend to her.

Achlys, already a powerful Aen Sendri, became more so when she mated her Asteri mate Korok. Her armies went into Nidavellir to force compliance.

Thousands more died. The peaceful existence between witches and Mages fractured. What was once a society made on exchanging of knowledge turned into one of suspicion and fury.

The Mages wished for Aen Eldari parts to amplify their own magic. The witches wanted mage knowledge of the arcane to spread their influence across the realms.

The Aes Sidhe still remain sundered. Many of the older generations wonder how much more their race can take before extinction.

@luxmaeastra - Natalia and Beron's growing pains verse haha 👀

@starlsssankt - look Laela has a place! 🥹

@sankta-alina-s - Alina could be someone who the witches could help? Unite the Mages in a different destiny?? 👀

[wayward-travelers]

WoL verse

The more I think about it, the more I think this blog will be strictly for my WoL verse.

The main reason for that being that my main RP verse is a canon-divergent AU with my friends and we advance the story rather slowly, and the other rp threads I have are in yet another verse. And, tbh, as far as rp goes, I don't care too much in the end if everything links nicely together or not.

But admittedly, my WoL verse has changed a lot between what I had in mind primarily with Aïcha and what I have in mind now and I'm thinking about putting it in fic form. Or—knowing myself because I have too few spoons and not enough hours in a day anyway between life, work and school—some sort of detailed plan for a fic that'd work as a first draft and... nothing following after that.

So why not just share what I have for now?

I'll start with the prelude in this post because this is important foundation for what's to come, and I'm not sure what people know (or don't) about how Inge and Aïcha started. Plus there are certain things I've never discussed in detail before.

Fair warning: while the plan is to follow the MSQ closely, there will be changes. But aside from one character mentioned below, I have no intention to bring back to life dead characters. And among those who do come back in the official story, two will remain dead no matter what the MSQ says.

Prior to ARR

Under the cut 'cause it's a bit long.

The prelude (Inge)

In the equivalent of 1.0 to the Calamity, Inge was one of the adventurers that ended up being dubbed as the "Warriors of Light" at Carteneau. Whether or not I'll follow strictly what I know of that part for the story, I'm not sure, but the point is that she's a forgotten hero that got teleported into the future by Louisoix and, upon arrival in the middle of the Shroud, realized that 1/ nobody knew her anymore, 2/ she had no fucking idea where the rest of her team was or even if they were still alive.

After some time looking for them, she opted for helping rebuilding since the world didn't seem to need any more heroes (and the trauma of losing everyone was, well, quite heavy). She ingrained herself in Gridania's life pretty fast and was tasked, two to three years before ARR, to accompany a small group of scientists to explore the Western Shroud and give upon return a detailed account of the state it was in.

Among those were:

Griveroix, a cartographer that hailed from La Noscea with his young and far more enthusiastic apprentice, A'idan;

Wolfe, who needs a name change, an agronomist from Sharlayan working on his Archon mark;

after some shenanigans, an actually alive Foulques because in this verse the lancer story happens before ARR and involves another character of mine. He's not a scientist but he'll serve as an adventurer for protection;

Inge herself, of course, healer and alchemist here to make sure everyone comes back in one piece.

There'll probably be a few more people, whether named or not, we'll see as the inspiration strikes.

The Foulques situation

While on their way to the Western part of the Shroud, they'll be attacked by a group of Duskwights who initially wants to bargain either their life or their (very expensive) instruments against Foulques' life, which they told them had been arrested by Gridanians.

Inge'll manage to convince them to let her go and bring him back peacefully, and she'll arrive just in time during his fight against Alakja (the OC mentioned above) to cast a levitation spell and save the Duskwight from a certain death. (Much to Alakja's and his wife's relief, as neither of them wanted him dead.)

Keeping her promise, she'll bring back Foulques to his family and manage to get the expedition back on track... only for him to join them, while refusing to state exactly why. Cue some drama because Griveroix is a coward, A'idan an enthusiastic puppy and Wolfe paranoid, but eventually they'll settle on letting him join the expedition unofficially.

And that's how it goes for Inge until she's back in Gridania at the beginning of ARR, and soon after learns by Mother Miounne that a promising adventurer needs help exploring the Tam-tara Deepcroft.

An adventurer that you might have recognized as Aïcha.

The Prelude (Aïcha)

Aïcha's mother was not cut to be a mother, and to her credit she realized it soon enough to not make Aïcha's life hell. Instead, she just... left. So Aïcha's early life is simply her father and her in Radz-at-Han, living in relative poverty despite her father securing an extremely sought after and expensive dancing tutelage for his talented daughter.

While she didn't grow up wondering where the money for this came—her father had always been a proud and hard-working man after all—she got the answer nonetheless as she reached her eighteen birthday, when the debts her father had contracted had become so big that he couldn't pay them back and loan sharks came to their house to make it clear that he didn't exactly have a choice.

Worried for his life more than for herself, Aïcha decided to sacrifice her bright artistic future to save the life of the only family she had, and thus joined The Guild. Think of it a bit like John Wick's Continental, except they pretended to be an adventurers guild.

As we know, dancing in FFXIV isn't just about artistry: it's also about kicking asses. And Aïcha, perhaps tragically, was both excellent and willing at this. Over the months, she only got deeper and deeper to take the most lucrative contracts, switching dancing for a gun to avoid sullying her art further, until she got in so far that she couldn't see any other path for herself than crime.

Eventually she killed a kid that had simply been at the wrong place at the wrong time and saw too much, but that broke her. She sent her father to hide in Tural, turned against her old employer and faked her death before fucking off to Eorzea, where she attempted to start a new life as a gladiator.

She did always love the attention after all, and surely no one would look for her there.

It became apparent rather quickly how corrupt the whole system was, however, and while she could ill-afford to make a mess in her new home, she opted for becoming an actual adventurer this time. Which is how she finally joined the Adventurers Guild in Ul'dah and started this new chapter in her story: for money and redemption.

(In this order.)

[trashquisitor-shirozora]

4AM thoughts while I decide if I should sleep on this chapter and then post, or post the chapter and then sleep (better sleep on it first and then do a final read before post):

was a reason ever given for the NR's bizarre attempt at Operation Paperclip? becuase I was watching this short podcast ep talking about sarin nerve gas and the host brought up the Cold War being the rationale for Operation Paperclip, and I didn't see any episode reactions speculating on whether or not there was a threat that necessitated rehabbing ex-Imps. I saw reactions talking about how the NR rehabbed Imps while also destroying their tech? huh? so the NR was doing Operation Paperclip out of the goodness of their hearts? I mean, I guess??? personally, I would've thrown them all into a floating prison because fuck 'em but I'm not the one who destroyed the NR in the Sequel Trilogy in a shitty attempt to recreate the conditions that set up ANH, what the fuck do I know?

HEAR ME OUT. my brain connected some dots. it's just me and my personal experiences with the Captain America movies, which were what really got me going in the MCU for a while but listen

I keep thinking about the speculations about what will happen in Season 3 and all the fics and arts and headcanons people spun for 2 years, and what is actually happening on Season 3, and it feels so much like what people were writing and drawing and headcanoning post-CATWS and what actually fucking happened (AoU, CACW, the Infinity Saga). I'm not just talking about the shipping, btw. I am very much talking about Din's journey throughout the first 2 seasons and the gravity of the end of Season 2..... and how it turned into a fucking joke. It was such a fucking letdown. I feel like a fucking clown for thinking Favloni (and Favreau especially) would actually do something meaningful with it.

I refuse to watch CACW out of principle and the Infinity Saga also out of principle. Wiki the summaries? Haven't done that. Everything I know I got from gifs and posts. I know straight up fuck all about the plots of these movies, but I know enough about how Steve Rogers' story ends and boy was that a disappointment. I get why his story ended, but how it ended sounds like a fucking spice dream. Of all the things, that's the ending they chose? lol k

to all the people claiming that 3rd episode was Mando's "Andor episode", no it fucking wasn't. it sounds like a fart of an attempt at a political/world-building episode with none of Andor's dedication to understanding what the fuck they're doing. maybe they had no choice but to set up the NR as corrupt, useless, incompetent, unable to outlast the Empire! maybe it's meant to mimic the more recent post-WWII/Cold War histories (I won't speculate here because I'm not well-versed in this department), but this coming on the heels of Andor... what the hell kind of sunrise was the Rebellion fightting for? are we really saying the Rebellion was fighting for a filler republic that Disney will burn away to make a better, cooler government run by..... who the fuck knows? nobody wants to do the hard job of building and rebuilding after a war. might as well just wait another 40 years for another Empire wannabe to blow up an entire star system and reboot the conflict for the next generation I guess????

no this season isn't going the way I expected because i wanted more out of Din. but honestly, it was the attempt to bring back IG-11 that turned me off the whole thing. fucking disgusting. let things die, favloni. they deserve to rest.

[soulsfractured]

Kuja Tribal

Basic Information

Age: 19 (FFVII), 24 (FFIX) Gender: Transmale (he/him) Eye Colour: Light Blue Merinthophobia - Dysphoria - Narcissism

Main Verse

FFVII

Known as “Genome Trial Experiment AD001” Kuja was 11 when his father ran tests on him. Learning he was just a subject, and that they were going to be a mindless puppet for Shinra, he rejected and fought back. After a year of tests, Kuja was deemed only a partial success, and was horrified to learn their siblings went through the same tests as him. Only able to get one of them, he took Zidane from the labs, tossing him far from their fathers reach and refusing to admit where he had sent him. Mikoto was removed from the labs before he could get her away. Shortly after this, their father was killed in an accident that Kuja was deemed suspicious of causing, but no proof could be found. When the experiments were shut down following Garland's death, Kuja was sent back to Shinra and Professor Hojo for further experiments. He was given an ultimatum and little time to debate it. Hojo saw no point in keeping a failure in his labs- but Shinra wanted to use his prowess in magic. Not being a mindless puppet for them, but still held on a leash, Kuja took their chance to leave the labs, becoming a personal bodyguard for the Vice President at the age of 12. Kuja began HRT around this time, under Rufus’ care. While marked down as nothing more than Shinra property, he made it clear that if Rufus saw him the same way, he would find himself with one less protector. But Rufus treats him somewhat decently, and with respect, despite his young age, and Kuja grows to be his largest ally, often going so far as to confide in the man, as well as protect him from the sidelines while in public.

FFIX

After the events at the Iifa Tree, Kuja was brought back with Zidane. Ill, and in no state to really argue any of the other Genome's actions, Kuja slowly regained consiousness and gained his strength back. He still didn't understand why Zidane saved him, or why he was acting like the entire past was forgiven so easily. He did realize that Garland's words did ring with some truth- the old egotisitcal Kuja, the one that had tried to destroy the world, was gone. He had learned it at the end, but he'd assumed that the man's words had meant he would die, not that he would change and he would need to begin anew with the knowledge that he was no longer immortal and would need to slowly rebuild himself with this knowledge.

Alternate Verses

Turk

One way off the leash was simply passing it from one Shinra to another- Kuja instead chose to take it and become a Turk. It allowed his skills in magic to be honed to better levels, and the espionage aspect meant he didn’t need to hide his tail while working- most who saw him, didn’t live to see the next hour of their life. Having a prehensile tail also makes it easier to grab small objects and hide them- which can come in handy when on the field.

[battingchaos]

Queen verse, worldbuilding, notes, headcanons and such:

Stelle became queen after a great plague took both her father and her mother, as well as much of the castle staff, and a good chunk of the kingdom. It came quickly, and lasted years. She is rebuilding, and is the first woman to ever inherit the throne.

Only Stelle knows that she is not royalty by birth, she was found by the king and queen after they endured a miscarriage. One of many they faced in their reign. Even Stelle was not told of this until she was a teenager, her mother and father informed her then and told her it was a secret she had to keep for her life. As a woman, her claim to the throne would have already been easily challenged.

The family name is Marigold, and Stelle is knowing as Queen Marigold.

Prior to the great plague that overtook the kingdom, Stelle's father was the greatest and most honorable king to have ever served. Him and the Queen created more allies than enemies, and did everything in their power to keep the peace. If not for the plague, Stelle would have been handed the most well held together kingdom in centuries. Alas, it did not turn out that way. But thankfully, she survived it and so did about half of the staff her mother and father had. She has strong support, and love from a good portion of the people.

She was not trained for battle, but it is something after taking the throne she has begun in secret. She wishes to lead with every bit of power as a son would have. With her training, she has begun to enroll women into her armies as well. It has had pushback, but Stelle refuses to let the path that was paved for her go to waste.

The king consort that her father selected, died along with the plague and she has yet to name another. It is something her council often calls for, but Stelle has declared to wait until more of the kingdom has been repaired before she could call for such a celebratory occasion. In truth, she doesn't wish to marry a man in fear of her power slipping away. She wishes to remain respected as the queen and never to have a man overmine her authority.

[kaisey-mysweetmelodia]

(Verse 1)

On an unknown Earth, I land, strong and proud,

Forced leadership, a raw world to rebuild.

Spirit of war, spirit of peace, a heart that wavers,

Faced with dilemmas, my conscience often falters.

(Verse 2)

Protective brother, searching for my sister,

My love for Octavia, it's my greatest fear.

Rebellion in my blood, I am the heart and the voice,

With my 100, I defy the laws.

(Chorus)

We are a hundred, dropped from the sky,

Among the ruins, the old world calls us.

Survival is our law, hope our sail,

Every day a fight, for a new star.

(Verse 3)

In the shadow of the Ark, a warrior was born,

Among the Grounders, my soul is bound.

Lincoln, my love, you taught me to survive,

Under the flag of the Sky People, I refuse to live.

(Verse 4)

A Grounder, a traitor, struck by love,

With Octavia, against my own I chose.

For a better world, I'm ready to fight,

Even if it means, in the end, to fade away.

(Chorus)

We are a hundred, dropped from the sky,

Among the ruins, the old world calls us.

Survival is our law, hope our sail,

Every day a fight, for a new star.

(Verse 5)

Commander of the twelve clans, with a hardened heart,

With Clarke by my side, a new world is built.

Love and duty, a path strewn with thorns,

For peace, for my people, I am ready for everything.

(Verse 6)

The survivor, the scarred, always set apart,

From my mistakes I rise, with a heavy heart.

Despite the chaos, I seek my place,

In this new world, I make my mark.

(Chorus)

We are a hundred, dropped from the sky,

Among the ruins, the old world calls us.

Survival is our law, hope our sail,

Every day a fight, for a new star.

(Verse 7)

Ingenious, resilient, beyond the pain,

My inventions save lives, I fight without fear.

Sky and earth, my battlefields,

My keen mind shines, when all is chaos.

(Pre-Chorus)

Echoes of the past, whispers of the earth,

Guided by the stars, a new world we hope for.

Between pain and challenge, we find our way,

The 100, united, hand in hand toward fate.

(Chorus)

We are a hundred, dropped from the sky,

Among the ruins, the old world calls us.

Survival is our law, hope our sail,

Every day a fight, for a new star.

(Bridge)

Together we are strong, divided we fall,

In this new cruel world, together we respond.

Through fire, tears, and ashes,

We are the 100, we will defend everything.

(Outro)

On this scarred Earth, under the stars, we dream,

Of peace, love, and a life without demons.

The 100, brave, until the final hour,

In hope and pain, we find our honor.