#baba fareed

[mountain-sage]

[sheltersestate]

781th Urs Hazrat Baba Farid (RA): Commemorating the Spiritual Legacy of the Sufi Saint in Pakpattan, Pakistan

The 781th Urs of Hazrat Baba Fariduddin Masood Ganj Shakar (RA) will be observed from Monday, 14th July 2023, to Monday, 29th July 2023, at the Shrine of Baba Farid (RA) in Pakpattan, Punjab, Pakistan. This sacred event commemorates the 12th-century Sufi saint of the Chishti Order, who was the successor of Hazrat Khawaja Qutbuddin Bakhtiar Kaki (RA). Hazrat Baba Farid (RA), also known as Baba…

[evilminji]

I woke up to this thought? And it made me smile~

Wrong way Au?

It's EASY to fly from point A to point B. Linear. Just on long, no traffic, straight line. And if you get lost? Go higher! There you are! But "normal" reporter families with Totally Human genetics can't exactly DO that.

Plus? It's part of the whole Americana thing!

Childhood.

Gotta do a road trip, see weird road side attractions, camp and hike a bit. Go somewhere other then the farm for once. Soooo~ everyone into the car! Yes, you too, Kon.

And don't look at Lois, kids. She hates this idea as much as you do. But it's for Dad. So we're doing it. Get in the car. Some times loving people means "suuuure, honey! I TOTALLY want to sit in an uncomfortable car for hours for your nostalgic dream trip!", so get comfy.

Problem is? He either can't navigate for SHIT (unlikely) or this patch of nowhere? Possibly haunted? Cursed? Fuckey. Very, very Reality Fuckey. Far more likely, honestly. They THINK that was the a same barn the passed four times now... but it looks... wrong? Off. Worse each time, in ways that are hard to place.

Where the FUCK are they Clark?

According to the GPS?

Here.

(You are Here. You are Here. You are He-)

Oh, THAT'S not cursed! She fucking KNEW they shouldn't have left the city. FUCK the countryside. She likes ONE(1) small town and it's where her in-laws live, THANK YOU VERY MUCH! If they die, she swear to GOD-!!!

Then Jon points to colorful tents up the road. A mix of the kind you buy at big box stores and Ren fairs. Balloons. What the fuuuuuck? "Fenton Family Reunion"?

Was... was that THERE a second ago?

Clark's very deliberate Not Too Tight Grip Of Panic ™ on the steering wheel? Confirms that No Honey, it was not. Kon points out? That eventually they ARE going to run out of gas. They should stop.

Words can not express how little the Kents want to do that. They have KIDS to protect. This feels "magical fuckery" to them. AKA? One of the few things Kryptonians very much CAN NOT handle.

And luck getting ahold of anybody back there kids? No? Emergency lines too?

Fuck ™.

Okay! Guess we're stopping! Stay behind us.

They park.

There are campers and trucks, modified tanks and trackers. A few horses grazing side by side with an honest to God moose and two mules. A Llama. Someone's anchored a dirigible. A boat with spindly chicken footed legs, like it's the house of baba yaga's sea faring love child. The name Fenton is slapped on everything. Peoples faces.

Grinning.

Everything grinning.

As they get closer, the racket gets louder. Crashes and smashes. Roaring laughter. Explosions. The screech of metal failing and the whine of energy overclocked. Fatty meats cooking. Spices from around the globe. Radios and instruments, at least one of which violently cuts off in a smash.

They pass an almost violently balloon choked arch, into chaos.

Grinning giants, everywhere. Every color, every shade, every race imaginable. The spectrum of humanity laid bare. Made large. Grinning, Grinning, Grinning. Crashing into each other, against, through. Smashing and laughing, as everything breaks around them. Titans.

Darting underfoot, children. Fast with wild eyes. Mad grins and fae laughs. Wives and husband's, partners and friends, dancing in and out of the chaos. Just as destructive. Perhaps MORE so. Grabbing meals from grills, laughing and joking, tossing children into the fray, all as they effortless hold conversations of their own.

Like a Dionysian revelry, all madness and joy.

Then they are noticed.

"Cousin!"

One of them booms. Locking eyes on Clark. He doesn't even have time to move, doesn't realize until too late, in all the chaos, that the man meant HIM. A running start is followed by a brutal, full body, flying tackle. Clark is taken skidding to the ground and into a headlock.

"LETS WRASTLE~!!"

He watches in helpless confusion as, with high-pitched war cries, a pair of twins jump Jon. They are wearing war paint. Krypto already taken out by a glowing green dog, now confused and wrestling off to the side. Lois has whipped out her tazer. Kon between her and who ever comes next.

By the time he wrestle his "cousin" off of him, he's lost sight of them both.

Dives into the fray.

Magic be damned, that's his FAMILY!

It... It's the most fun he's had in years. That any of them have. He finds Lois in a breathless, screaming, debate/fistfight with her new best friend. Samantha "call me Sam Or ELSE" Manson-Fouley-Fenton. Kon is in the mud pit, wrestling other teenagers in some sort of battle Royale. Jon? Has become king of the ferals. The other parents are impressed.

His years of Damian wrangling finally paying dividends, apparently.

By the time Clark FINALLY tracks down Krypto, there is already crowd and it apparently six heel turns deep into the WWE Grand Saga of the Fenton Pet's League. Krypto, what the hell. No. No you may NOT "form one last alliance against my sworn wrestling enemy, to prove the true meaning of Christmas!" It's the middle of SUMMER!

Clark... Clark is so tired.

He's also a Fenton now. Yes, he KNOWS that's not how anything works. YOU try explaining that! He's on the call list and card list. It's like the Addams family out here! They just... just DECIDED him and his family were related! They've apparently DONE THAT BEFORE!

They leave with directions, fudge, more leftovers then anyone could possibly eat, and a massive new extended family. One that honestly? The Justice League SHOULD have known about. The sheer destructive chaos they get up too? EVERYONE should be aware of them. It seems impossible NOT to be! But? According to THEM, it's a "family thing". Reality tries to ignore them for "it's own sanity"? What???

So yeah.... no more road trips.

How was YOUR weekend?

@hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @lolottes @babbling-babull @dcxdpdabbles @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation

[lazycats-stuff]

Hi! I loved your male Y/N x Bruce Wayne Cadmus clone fic. Is there any way you could make a part 2? Maybe the clone comes to live with them and then they have to explain to the rest of the family who they are and help them adjust to living with the Batfamily. Also Ra’s maybe pops in from time to time and the clone starts to become protective over Y/N when it comes to others, especially Ra’s creepiness. Thx!!!

Oh I can. Sorry that this took so long though... I love the idea though. Also, PART 1 is linked to this. And it will be under Bruce Wayne masterlist, since the part 1 is there. Just so there isn't any confusion. And yes, the same GIF because I can't be bothered today.

Summary: (Y/N) is rather protective of one of his dads.

Warnings:

It has been a few months since the clone, well, the boy came to live with them to the manor. Of course, explaining to the boys who he was and how he came to be wasn't an easy task. And it turns out it wasn't. Sitting them all down was easy enough. (Y/N) broke the news and the response was not receptive.

All of them were confused, shocked, Damian was absolutely disturbed. So much so, he stormed out of the room and slamming the door of his room. And if Damian can't control his emotion like that, you know he's not okay. (Y/N) sighed, burying his face into his hands.

(Y/N) loved his sons so much and seeing them upset made him upset. At this point, he wondered if this was a bad idea. He couldn't bear to see a rift in his family. Bruce patted his back, then gently rubbed his shoulder in comfort.

" I'm going to check on him. " (Y/N) said, trying to compose himself before he went to see Damian. Bruce kissed his cheek squeezing his shoulder in comfort before letting go and turning to his other sons.

" I know this is all... Insane to say the least, but the clone is a human who deserves a shot at life. " Bruce crossed his arms and (Y/N) has left to look for Damian, knowing exactly where he went. (Y/N) gently knocked on the door, listening to inside noises.

" Dames, can I come in? " (Y/N) asked softly and he sighed in relief once he heard a yes, although a faint one

(Y/N) entered and then closed the door behind him. Damian was curled in the bed, Titus curled around him. (Y/N) smiled at the sight and sat down where there was actual space left for him. He started gently scratching Damian's scalp.

" I know that the news upset you, but he is nothing like Ra's. only by his hair and eyes. And would I ever lie to you Dames? " (Y/N) started softly and Damian sighed.

" No baba. "

" Good. The boy needs a chance in life too. Just like you had to escape the League so you can have a semi normal life with us. Okay? You know that you kiddos are my number one priority. And he is a kid in trouble. So please, don't worry about it. Okay? " (Y/N) asked and Damian nodded, gently patting Titus.

" Good. " (Y/N) kissed Damian's forehead and decided to leave him be for now. (Y/N) quickly went back down to check how Bruce was faring. The other 3 boys were simply calm. Talking to Bruce about their questions and concerns.

(Y/N) walked up to his other 3 sons, giving them each a hug. " If anyone is worried about Damian, he is fine. He was just a bit upset. Worried that the boy will be like Ra's. " (Y/N) explained and everyone nodded and Bruce turned to hold (Y/N) by the waist.

" Anyway, I can't believe that Ra's is in the mix. " Jason said and Tim nodded.

" The bastard has got more excuses to get closer to you dad. And I don't like it. " Tim said and (Y/N) gently scratched Tim's scalp.

" Tim, I can take care of myself. I understand the worry, but Bruce trained me, " (Y/N) said and Tim nodded.

" Doesn't mean we don't worry dad. " Dick stood up to get some water.

" And if Ra's shows up, you know where to find my guns. " Jason added as he took out his phone and Bruce sighed as he squeezed (Y/N)'s hips.

" I swear, everyone in this house will put me into my grave. " Bruce muttered kissing (Y/N)'s cheek. (Y/N) smile and lean on Bruce.

" I love you too. "

It has been a few months since the clone, well, the boy came to the manor. The transition wasn't really easy. The boys seeing their enemy in the poor boy wasn't easy and Bruce and (Y/N) knew that full well. It wasn't going to be easy and the two made sure that the boy felt comfortable.

And yes, the clone is still looking for a name so they don't call him, yo, bro, dude. All of these were used by the first 4 sons, not by Bruce and (Y/N), just for the record. Just a quick FYI. (Y/N) really tried to make sure that the boy was more comfortable. He made sure of it.

And the rest of the boys too, don't take it wrong.

This particular evening, (Y/N) had a rare night off and has decided to spend his time reading a book in the living room, under a blanket, on the comfiest sofa that money can buy. the clone was somewhere near, not particularly fond of being alone. The boy was working on that with Black Canary, who turned into his therapist.

Either way, it was going rather well and (Y/N) won't complain about it. As long as it's going well, although with a few bumps, he won't complain about anything. (Y/N) was well into the book, enjoying it when he heard Alfred's voice.

" Master (Y/N), Ra's al Ghul is here, " Alfred announced and (Y/N) groaned as he put a piece of paper in between the pages so he could know where to go of on. Then he closed the book, turning his head to look at Ra's. The smug bastard was there, standing near the kitchen table.

Ra's has been here a few times before, to see (Y/N) and to see the extent of the genetics at work. (Y/N) would often sneakily leave the manor at the time, not in the mood to look at Ra's or to even talk to him. He wanted to die rather than to see the old bastard.

Unfortunately, Bruce and the birds were out patrolling, so any backup, if we don't include the boy, is gone.

" Ah, it seems you are alone (Y/N). " Ra's said and (Y/N) wanted to scoff. " The detective is out and about on patrol it seems. " Ra's noted and (Y/N) forced himself not to sigh.

" Why are you here? To annoy me? "

Ra's chuckled then shook his head.

" Always blunt. I'm here to see the boy. Does he have a name at least? "

" He didn't choose one yet. " (Y/N) stood up, adjusting his shirt. He was in one of Bruce's shirts and some nice sweatpants. If he knew that the bastard was coming, he would have changed. Into something more practical to fight in. And not feel that exposed. Bruce was a huge man and (Y/N) was tall, but more lean so... Bruce's shirts may or may not expose some shoulder and some chest.

Either way, he didn't like being ogled by anyone but Bruce. This was for his eyes only. (Y/N) fixed the shirt, hiding the spot that Ra's was eyeing hungrily. The boy, the clone stilled in the kitchen, watching and listening in silence. He is ready to fight for his dad, although he hasn't called him dad, he thinks of him as a dad.

And (Y/N) could fight, after all, Ra's' genes, Bruce's genes and (Y/N)'s genes mixed in make a fighter. A great one at that.

Ra's then turned his sights on the boy who was in the kitchen, listening and watching like a hawk.

" Ah, there he is. You still have no name? " Ra's asked, moving closer to the boy.

" I do have a name. It's William. " Now William responded with confidence and (Y/N) was proud. His boy has a name and it's William. He has to let Bruce and the boys know ASAP.

" I see. It seems you got a name... A strong one it seems. "

(Y/N) rolled his eyes, knowing that Ra's wanted (Y/N) to get an Arabic name, but (Y/N) and Bruce put their foot down to anyone who tried to give now William, a name.

It was something that William should have done on his own. It's something that he should have a choice in. It's something empowering in having that choice. Something that everyone should have when their sense of individual self is pushed onto them, when they have no choice in the matter.

Giving yourself a name is something impowering.

" It seems you are doing well in here, " Ra's noted and William nodded, also put off by Ra's. (Y/N) was glad that he wasn't the only one.

" And as for you (Y/N), " Ra's turned to (Y/N), who crossed his arms, " You look lovely tonight. The casual attire you more than official attire you wear at galas and at work I must say. "

(Y/N) wanted to crawl somewhere and die. William crossed his arms, just ready to pounce at Ra's. He could sense the undertone that Ra's was using and didn't like it one bit. He stood behind (Y/N), ready to protect his dad.

Ra's simply raised his brow, but didn't comment on it.

" Well, I have more tasks here in Gotham, so I must get going. " Ra's took (Y/N)'s hand and kissed the back of it, just like he always does and then left.

(Y/N) shuddered once Ra's was out of sight and out of mind.

" You okay dad? " William asked and (Y/N)'s eyes widened, but smiled.

" You called me dad... " (Y/N) said happily, hugging William.

" Not the point dad. He is creepy. "

(Y/N) nodded in agreement. " I know son, he is creepy towards me. My guess is that he has feelings for me, but I'm loyal to Bruce and Bruce only. I can handle the old bastard. " (Y/N) patted William's cheek.

" Don't worry, okay. Now, do you want to watch a movie? " (Y/N) asked and William nodded.

" Alright, choose a movie off of Netflix while I make some snacks. "

[mer-acle]

sooo because you asked, I'm gonna talk about video games. I only really have a switch currently, but I know a good amount about some games not on switch too ig.

I feel like partially cuz of her personality, partially cuz of her domains as a goddess, Athena would like games where you have to think, and there's less of a time limit. So puzzle games, and stuff that's similar. And she would probably like turn-based games, where you get to practice strategy, cuz combat that isn't just "run in circles and swing your sword every 5 seconds until whatever you're fighting is dead". I can also see her liking more sandboxy games like Minecraft, where you can get creative and kinda do whatever. Games that I've played/know-a-lot-about-but-haven't-had-time-to-play-yet that I think she'd like: dicey dungeons, sea of stars, ooblets, pokemon, monster hunter stories 1-2, deltarune, undertale, and slay the spire, (turn based games, mostly rpgs) miitopia (?) (it's also a turn based game but you can't control your entire party, and also all the characters are miis, it's weird but fun) phogs, human fall flat, Zelda eow, machinarium, untitled goose game, portal 1-2, howl, snipperclips, and ghost trick, (puzzle games of various difficulties) baba is you (very difficult puzzle game :]) bugsnax (pretty much a puzzle game, she'd like the catching mechanics. Got into it cuz of athrodite. {Only remembered this l8r so this is being written after dites section, more thoughts there}) niche a genetics survival game, (turn based game where you've got a colony of creatures that you evolve) spore (a game where you evolve a species from a single celled organism to a space-faring civilization that came out in 2008 and was my entire childhood) pikmin (technically a real time games with time limits, but managing a small army of plant guys to transport stuff and fight enemies feels like something she'd like) and probably botw and totk, with a preference for totk because of the ability to build things and augment your weapons, but both have quests that make you think, and a lot of puzzles to do (she'd probably be the kind of person to snipe enemies from afar with a bow, and use trickery and stealth to defeat enemy camps instead of brute force, like me! :D {muddlebud, yiga-clan-dagger-thingy with a good fusion, and monster masks my beloveds<3})

Ares would probably enjoy games where it's all in real time, less time to think, gotta act fast kinda stuff, and games that are more difficult. Also probably racing games, and he'd probably like party games too. Games that he'd like are: stuff like dark souls, elden ring, and bloodborne (very difficult souls likes) another crabs treasure (also a souls like but you play as a hermit crab, and the only one I've personally played ':>) going under, blazing beaks, Hades, (all very difficult roguelikes, Hades is funny :2) cult of the lamb (roguelike, hard, kinda funny for him to be running a cult. Athrodite totally plays 2 player with him and helps manage the cult cuz kinda cute graphics and it's funny) rain world (2d platformer, real hard, fight stuff with spears) mainline monster hunter (partially to match with Athena hdhshsj) don't starve/dst (sandboxish game where you try not to die to everything and there's bosses and stuff) jsab, deltarune, undertale, (bullet hell kinda games, he'd like the dodging) super smash bros, Mario cart, Mario party, (he drags Athena to the family reunion and they compete in tournaments against all their siblings. It last for like 5 hours while all the people Zeus had children with awkwardly stand in a room together) more games I haven't played like doom or cod or something (personally I don't tend to play super violent stuff or anything, not my cup of tea 🍵) botw and totk, (preference for botw cuz he prefers the comparative simplicity of the mechanics and likes hitting things with sticks. He does appreciate the new bosses in totk. He would probably play in master mode in botw, and fight lynels for fun. The yiga clan hideout is either the bane of his existence or a fun combat challenge)

Athrodite would probably like more cutesy kinda games which are more heavily character focused, and she'd probably like romance games. (Personally I, do not. So I don't have any specific games for that) I can see her enjoying farming games tbh. games for her: slime rancher, ooblets, Paleo pines (cute lil games where you collect creatures and farm In one way or another) yonder the cloud catcher chronicles (first game I ever had on switch, very cute and cosy, good starter game for learning mechanics of an open world rpg without having to worry about dying, bartering system is neat. grass foxes!) amber isle (dino shopkeeping game {I may or may not be autism about dinosaurs}) miitopia (she'd be so invested in the party members, and whenever theres a falling out she watches the drama like it's a telenovela) bugsnax (got into it cuz she thought the bugs were cute, got invested in the characters, then got mildly traumatized by the ending and dragged ares and Athena to play it to inflict it on them. {I won't spoil it but jeez man. Great game btw, highly recommend. It's completely bonkers and makes you sound insane when you explain it, and that's why it's fun. Go watch a trailer or something}) Wandersong (the characters are on point, music is amazing, story is so good, cute graphics) chicory a colorful tale (surprisingly deep, she probably cried at least once, totally got Athena to play it {Athena would like it tbh, got puzzles and creativity n art, but I don't wanna scroll up and add something to her section a g a i n sooo}) sky cotl (she'd like flying around in the clouds and it's a multiplayer game so she could make friends with people. Ares has it too, and when they have to be separated irl for a long time they play it together and make their skykids hold hands while they have phone calls {it's free to download btw :D}) the sims (she would totally have all the expansion packs. Depending on how she feels that day she either spends 2 hours just making the nicest house possible and making nice little stories with her sims, or being a complete menace, starting character drama left and right, drowning sims, making the worst house possible) probably stuff like Roblox dress to impress too.

They would probably have some overlap in terms of games, play and/or watch each other play games together n all that, these are just more games that they'd specifically enjoy and seek out on their own

VVV For a few specific games that they'd all play with different playstyles. VVV

acnh: ares and Athena would share a switch, athrodite would have her own, so the siblings share an island. Athrodite would probably be the kinda person to have a themed island, and just remodel the entire thing every like 4 months, she'd have the highest rating, everything is pristine and amazing, she spent forever getting her favorite villagers, etc. ares would probably be more of a decorator than Athena tbh, their island would probably be a bit less nice, not really any one style. Athena would probably like digging up fossils, getting paintings, fishing, etc, so she could donate stuff to blathers. She wouldn't spend that much time decorating but you just know that their museum is complete and she sometimes just walks in there to admire the exhibits, or listen to blathers explain something again. (He's an owl btw) She'd probably be good at custom designs too, athrodite would totally yoink some of her designs for clothes.

Stardew valley: theres a good chance theyd have a multiplayer save file, and all be playing it differently. Athrodite has all the characters schedules memorized, and is currently befriending all of them, and romancing someone. Ares is spending all his time in the mines, fighting monsters. Athena is minmaxing on the farm to get as much money as possible. All of them are thriving.

Minecraft: Athena would probably like redstone, and enjoy playing in creative mode half the time to build stuff, she might like adventuring. Ares would be the combat expert of the three, and would probably be more of a miner. Athrodite would also be a builder, and she'd probably be the one to adventure halfway across the world to find the one type of wood she needs to make a house. Athena and athrodite would set out on a journey and come back 2 hours later with 3 pet parrots, 6 types of coral, a new tamed wolf, 3 stacks of flowers, a bunch of dark oak wood, and a new horse, when they just needed to get some wood.

Splatoon, abridged: taking pity on you because this got longer than expected, and I've been writing for like an hour at least, I'll try and keep this short. (I've played splatoon for like 500 hours now, I may have slight issues ':2) Ares would like side order for the replayability, probably be real good at salmon run, he'd be good at squid beatz probably, and be pretty good at ranked. He would probably main shorter ranged frontliner weapons, esp ones with higher fire rates, and ones that are decently strong. Stuff like a clash blaster, brushes, maybe splatanas, and the sploosh o matic (I main sploosh actually, and it's fast as hell but the range is abysmal, I get outranged by melee weapons, when the sploosh is a shooter. :'D But it's strong in close quarters and fun sooo) athena would enjoy the story modes I think, be pretty good at tableturf (best of the three), and probably have a higher ranked score, cuz strategy is pretty important. She'd be more of a backliner, getting to a good position and lining up shots. She'd probably use something more like a charger or splatling, like the hydra splatling or e-liter, or something like a splatershot pro. Athrodite would have an on point fashion sense, be really good at turf wars, and be the one to remind the others that there's a splatfest. She feels like someone who'd use more support aligned weapons like a brella, or dapple dualies, and she'd probably be good with an aerospray.

Gods this got long, and you probably don't have any idea what I'm talking about c:'. Hopefully tumblr doesn't delete any of this or something 🤞. I just rambled and listed off a bunch of neat games I like tbh, I mean, all of em are good so if you want a recommendation then you could pick one from ^^^up there^^^ I suppose. The formatting prolly sucks and is a bit hard to read, but it's late and I don't feel like fixing it so I don't have the energy to care. (Run on sentences and parentheses my beloved) It's not realistic that they'd play every single one of these, or spend a ton of time on them, given that they're busy with having-a-life, but this is a list of games I think they'd like, not games they'd have time to play necessarily. Anyway I'm gonna send this ask before I pass out on my phone and delete it or something, enjoy another wall of text. (I feel bad for anyone scrolling through this blog hghghcughhrh my bad guys ':2)

Goodnight y'all! May your dreams be free of fear!

-🌻

and here i am finally tackling this one lmao Kidding this is fun to read i just don't know what to respond cos like... idk 90% of this lmao

Def agree with the playstyle assessments :D Very in character! And from the games I do know/ know about I totally agree with those too :D (For some reason Don't Starve stuck out to me, Ares would so enjoy this, and growl at the screen a bunch during it)

I have never played Stardew valley myself but there's no way this isn't accurate the vibes are great.

Also the Mario Cart tournament is so sibling coded i wanna cry.

I may or may not be autism about dinosaurs // ykw slay dinosaurs are amazing. I knew so many latin/greek names of them back in the day, had a dinosaur memory game and- gods how did my parents go this is a neurotypical child nothing to see here? *giggling*

SIMSSSS I love sims. Can add to that. I can see Aph being a firm custom content girlie, Athena has more mods, though. Aphrodite would also enjoy CAS methinks, and if she doesn't wanna build herself she gets Athena's builds from the gallery cos Athena would either build or play rags to riches and collectible challenges (her sims have to hustle almost as much as herself) Ares doesn't play he has watched the GrayStillPlays sims playlist tho. So has Athena. several times. It's a comfort playlist of hers. (you see, the author is in a point of her life where the projecting is completely obvious and unabashed)

(Run on sentences and parentheses my beloved) // don't we all XD DW apart from me not knowing shit about videogames this wasn't hard to read at all, I'm very sure people will enjoy the shit out of this, you have done the AU a massive favor <33

xx

[hanayori89]

Showdown of Shadows

*Temple of Time *

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!"

Link stood back-to-back with his shadow. His heart a shattered mess of a shell in his chest.

Had something happened to Renado? Why hadn't he delivered his letter? Link told her not to come. He warned her. But in that moment, all he could do was act on his instincts and protect her.

But to protect her through cruelty was something he could not stomach.

The sight of her sobbing on the floor, wriggling in agony, calling out to him.

Wanting to know if he loved her.

The question he wasn't allowed to answer impaled him like a javelin. Never had he fought so hard against himself.

So hard he fought against himself that even his own shadow now bore tears.

Link stood, his head facing down, his bangs falling into his eyes in a way he hoped hid the pain carved onto his face.

His shadow stood behind him, expletives continuing to float from his lips.

"WHAT IS THIS SHIT IN MY EYES?!"

Zelda crept forward; she took Link's hands within her own. His triforce was rejuvenated by her warm touch with a resurgence of life he hadn't witnessed within it before.

Though her words were sincere, they were spoken with guilt. "Congratulations, Link. You have once again shown the goddesses why you are the rightful wielder of the triforce of courage." Link slowly raised his head, meeting her dull gaze. She whipped her eyes away, closing them in sorrow.

"For there is no greater courage than releasing someone you love for their own benefit." Her hands tightened slightly upon the word "release."

"IS ANYBODY GOING TO TELL ME OR DO I HAVE TO CUT THE ANSWER OUT OF YOU BOTH!"

"Tears." Zelda responded, ignoring Dark Link and his empty threats. Zelda was unwavering, even in the presence of Ganondorf. Dark was no more of a threat to her than a deku baba.

She turned back to Link once more. "You mourned your action toward Y/N so deeply, you felt it within the coldest parts of yourself. Within your shadow. Does it all make sense now? Zant's anger toward the interlopers mixed with his greed for the throne was the perfect concoction for madness. But greed and anger—those are feelings, Link. Emotions that we hide, that we keep within our dark, can control how close we come towards the path of righteousness or the path of evil."

"Ilia..." Link shook his head. "That shadow preyed on her. It preyed on the deep love she had held for him and the inevitability of her rejection." Zelda nodded solemnly in agreement. She persisted in his thought process, "and Y/N. Living amongst the Twili, numb to any real feelings, kept her shadow at bay. She was always in charge of it and always will be. The test was to see how she would fare in this realm. To see if she could control her own demon within, the same way you are controlling yours now. As long as those negative emotions exist in each realm, there will always be shadows that must be contained."

Zelda gave Link an unsettling half grin. "In fact, you may be surprised at the shadows that exist."

What is that supposed to mean?

Before Link could ask, he suddenly remembered what Ilia's shadow had mentioned. "Wait, she said, she said something about Y/N being a half-breed. Why doesn't Y/N know who she is? Is this something native to Twili or unique to her own individual existence? If she is a half-breed, that means that Hylians and Twili can..."

That Y/N can have the family she wants. That he could be the one to give it to her.

He could be the one.

Link prayed that Zelda couldn't see the blush that had confiscated his face. If Zelda did see it, she chose to ignore it.

"There is a legend that some of the interlopers may have copulated with Hylians, making Y/N a direct ancestor from that legend."

"B-But then Zant must have..." Link felt nauseated over the idea that Zant could procreate with any individual, be it Hylian or Twili. He still couldn't note any resemblance between Zant and Y/N. Her distinct Hylian features clearly belonging to whoever her mother was.

Zelda's mouth parted slightly, only for a voice not belonging to her to erupt beyond it.

"My, my, my, what do we have here? My husband with his princess."

Ilia jumped forth from a stark corner of the room. Link was alarmed by how quickly her appearance had diminished for the worse. Her legs were tall and bent much in the way a spider's legs looked. She lunged herself forward in a scurry. Her kneecaps had ruptured through the fabric of her pants and her shirt was now stained with the unmistakable dye of blood.

Link wasn't sure whose blood it was. He was also sure it was best not to inquire either.

Her once blue eyes had been swallowed up by the patches of bruised flesh beneath them. Once again, she made the same sinister smile that pulled her eyeballs backward into her skull.

Link felt the triforce of courage warm the back of his hand, as though Hylia stood beside him, holding his hand within her own.

It didn't burn him to ashes.

It wasn't unresponsive.

It was his partner once more, and he felt invincible. He gripped the Rod of Dominion and gave it a small wave, ushering Dark Link to his side.

"YOU ASSHOLE! I CAN'T STOP CRYING!"

"Listen here," Link snarled. "It's bad enough I have to deal with one annoying shadow; I don't need your bullshit too!" He swung his Master Sword free from its sheath.

Ilia sprang towards them. Link could smell the familiar, abhorrent scent of pus that sprung forth from her eyes. She cackled, a sadistic echo now reflected in her voice.

"HEH, I WILL, I WILL, DESTROY, DESTROY, YOU, YOU, AND YOUR, AND YOUR, WHORE, WHORE, TOO, TOO!"

Then she was airborne, ready to topple them both. Link couldn't help but smile to himself. He raised the Master Sword up, his eyes locked with the shadow that now inhabited Ilia's body.

He swung the Rod of Dominion, and Dark Link raised his sword above his head in unison.

Dark growled brusquely in Link's direction. "Let's get one thing straight, Linky. I'm only doing this because I'm hungry for blood."

The feeling of adrenaline pumping through Link's veins was so intoxicating he thought he may be going insane. All his pent-up frustration was tired of being ignored. He was ready to remind everyone who he was.

The man who made a kebab out of Ganondorf's heart.

Link's smile grew wider. "Let's get you some blood then, shall we?"

He started to laugh.

Whether he was dead or alive, Link would not be taking any shadows with him after this.

Link gave the Rod of Dominion another swing, prompting Dark to spring forward with his blade.

The Showdown of Shadows had officially commenced.

Edited: 2/6/25

It seems things are about to get interesting. One lover returns to the shadows in scorn, while the other bursts forth from them, ready to take what is theirs. 

The conundrum between the light and dark continues as Link learns what it means to fight for himself, with himself, and against himself. 

Blood, beatings, and tears are being served fresh in the next few chapters. 

Check out my other completed OOT Zelda work- No Woman Beyond

[thecozykirin]

DWC Day 2 - Tenderness

( Wanted to write a few pieces from earlier on in their relationship, I thought today's word was perfect for it! ) @daily-writing-challenge For hours, Soo-ha had occupied herself by watching the subtle rise and fall of her daughter’s chest. Occasionally, her ear would flick from the sound of the rain pouring outside the rickety shelter they had taken refuge in. Yasashi told her that the Alliance had built it during the war, and now like the memories associated with it, it festered within the depths of the Jade forest, reclaimed by vines and wood speckled with mold. Inns had been too risky, and though she didn’t particularly like this arrangement, Soo-ha couldn’t deny the wisdom in it. The Wukao were effective at getting their information, and even more at drawing up a trail they believed their goals to be taking. She could see Yasashi in the background, his image blurred and unfocused as he sat near the entrance of the shelter, eyes fixed outside from beneath the grates of his helmet. For once, his armor was off, no doubt to give him access to the deep wound in his side. A parting gift from a former comrade and friend. Soo-ha’s muzzle wrinkled slightly at the memory, her gaze darting to the hammer at his hip, and how even in the dim light of the glowflies, she could still see faint specks of crimson that clung to it. Averting her gaze, she returned it to his wound…and noted that blood had started to seep through the linen. With a light frown on her muzzle, she willed herself up as quietly as she could manage, turning to reach into the paltry sack of supplies they had amassed throughout their tense journey. Linen. Paste. The paste had been something her and her baba made one evening, a blend of honey and garlic, meant to soothe wounds and smother whatever disease tried to fester within them. Soo-ha approached the large Pandaren, letting out only a light chuff to let him know she was there as she knelt at his side, and reached for his linen.

And the behemoth flinched, as though a Mushan could be wounded by a mouse. His head snapped to her. “What?”

Soo-ha blinked, the answer should’ve been obvious but she signed back in response nonetheless: ‘You are bleeding.’

Yasashi’s head tipped down, and he paused. “It is a wound of no consequence. You should get your sleep, we will be moving at the first sight of dawn.” Soo-ha pursed her bottom lip out slightly. ‘All wounds are of consequence. Your blood will attract pests, your linen must be changed.’

“I’ve gone longer with worse.” Soo-ha’s brow furrowed slightly. ‘And how has that fared you?’

Yasashi paused for several heart beats, acquiescing with a deflated sigh. “If you wish to trouble yourself with it, fine.” ‘If I thought it troublesome, I would’ve stayed asleep.’ And with that, the small Pandaren began her work. Soo-ha’s paws were gentle, even as the stinging paste was applied, she hummed as she felt his body jolt slightly beneath her paws.

Yasashi had been tended by many healers throughout his service, and though their touch was always careful, it was swift and detached given the circumstances. Most touches in his life had been detached. But Soo-ha’s touch was careful and caring, replacing bandages that had just barely begun to bleed through the last layer.

Perhaps she was wise in seeing that they needed to be changed, after all they may not be able to stop again until they’re safely on the sea. Or perhaps, she recognized that a bit of closeness was what the male needed to provide a bit of comfort amidst the raging sea of emotion he kept locked within that helmet.

The more one looked at it, the more it looked like a prison.

The true reason would never be spoken, but the action would never be forgotten.

Not by him.

[holespoles]

'Kanchi Jigoku no Zu' (Picture of a No Busy Hell). The artist and date are unknown as it is an overseas public domain image. Probably a work from the Meiji period. This is an enjoyable work depicting a relaxed hell life.

The first image shows the ignition of a cauldron in hell. When the lid is opened to light the fire, the cauldron becomes the home of a mother cat and her kittens. Even the demons can't light the cauldron. The second image shows an ogre serving tea in a cup to his boss, who is reading a newspaper. You can feel the sadness of a lowly man.

The third one is a hellfire wheel (said to carry sinners who did wrong during their lives to hell. They also carry sinners to hell to condemn them) to extinguish the fire. You have to be very careful with fire, even in hell. The last one is a banquet between Enma (Great King of Hell, who judges the conduct of human beings in life and the lightness or darkness of their sins.), Datsui-baba (An old demon woman who strips the clothes of a deceased person who has come to the Sanzu River (a river said to be the border between this world and the next) without the six pennies she owes for the ferry fare.) and the prisoners. It teaches us the importance of communication in an organisation.

��閑地獄之図(暇な地獄の図)」です。海外のパブリックドメイン画像で作者や年代は不明。多分明治期の作品かと思われます。ゆるゆるの地獄ライフが描かれている楽しい作品です。

画像一枚目は地獄の釜の点火作業。さあ火を付けようと蓋を開けたら釜は母猫と子猫の住処に。これじゃ流石に鬼も灯を付けられません 二枚目は新聞を読む上司にカップでお茶をサーブする鬼。下っ端の悲哀を感じます。

三枚目は地獄の火車(生前、悪事を犯した罪人を乗せて地獄に運ぶという。また、地獄で罪人を乗せて責める)を消火する様子。火の扱いは地獄と言えど、慎重でないとだめですよね。最後は閻魔様と奪衣婆と獄卒達の宴会でしょうか。組織におけるコミュニケーションの大切さを教えてくれます。

[sgiandubh]

Life beyond OL - Xmas movies and a short Bucharest tour

About three weeks ago, What Else Anon prompted me to tell her what else I was reading, watching or interested in lately (https://www.tumblr.com/sgiandubh/734634576675274752/so-about-tcnd-no-im-kidding-dont-throw-me). That gave me an idea for a poll:

Should I turn this ask into a Life Beyond OL weekly, preferably on Tuesdays?

97,1% of the 35 brave people to answer said yes, so here we are.

Reading won't do it this hectic week: since Friday is my last day on the job before the holidays, I'm literally in a wrap-up frenzy, both at home and at the office. Let's say I am not exactly the type who buys her presents in July, which pretty much explains the circus.

As for watching, well: nope, I will not watch A Princess for Christmas if you'd pay me. It's both beyond and beneath my dignity, I am afraid and bless The Boy, but that is not enough for an incentive. By the same token, I shall not willingly acknowledge in public (at the blessed age of 45) that I know all the damn lines of Home Alone 1 by heart. With age, my absolute go-to Xmas movie has to be Love Actually. If only for this perfect opening scene with 0 cheesiness in it - you watch it and you are immediately hooked:

Interested in: going home for Christmas, what else? And before local exasperation hits hard (roughly two days after arrival, to be honest), I am still procrastinating on YouTube and watching those foot-in-mouth travel vlogs ('John and Jane Doe do ...'). In a sea of meh, you might find something interesting enough: I have no idea who Sammy & Tommy are, but they are smart people and they surely know a thing or two about travel. Once in Bucharest, my hometown, they followed their instinct and engaged with the natives - always the best plan.

Let's say it was worth it and probably went above and beyond their expectations: we tend to be obnoxiously hospitable. And I found the bakery people flawlessly endearing. I can confidently say it was something absolutely spontaneous and something I would do myself anytime for a total stranger:

A bit of context: the Cișmigiu Gardens look way better than the last time I ventured in there. It is probably one of the most beloved parks of the city, a stone throw away from the Old Town, and also a wannabe copycat of Munich's Englischer Garten.

The featured bakery & cake shop are actually quite decent, serving traditional pastries from Transylvania (the West of the country) and some of the local dessert mishmash fare. Despite what the very nice bakery guy is telling Sammy and Tommy, neither savarina, nor amandina are 'traditional ' Romanian cakes. Savarina is simply the Polish/French rum baba, Stohrer invented for Stanisław I Leszczyński, the exiled Polish king who was also Louis XV's father in law. As for the other one, let's say it could be the love child of a Sachertorte and a Rigó Jancsi��cake - totally Austro-Hungarian (Wikipedia babbles: it has nothing to do with French cuisine!)! Both sickeningly sweet and both personal favorites, amen. The first one they tried, cozonac, is a babka spinoff: something I hate with a passion, but also something that is going to be literally every(fucking)where this Christmas ('oh, you don't like my cozonac?! huh, nonono, I do, it's so fabulous I am taking my time!').

Honestly? This is a place that suffered a lot, especially during the Eighties, when Ceaușescu thought it would be a great idea to bulldoze about 60% of the old neighborhoods, after the horrific 1977 earthquake (perfect pretext). Words could never decently describe the shock, the drama and the abuse: people throwing themselves under the first passing car as their beloved houses were torn down, people displaced in the middle of nowhere, a human chain of people holding hands in a failed attempt to stop the demolition of a beloved church. All that quiet, endearing charm suddenly replaced by a Pyongyang transplant smack in the middle of town. This explaining perhaps why Bucharest is not the best/most touted tourist destination in my country. Tourists usually choose Transylvania (absolutely deserved) or, if they really want to be adventurous, Bucovina (or Țara de Sus, literally: The Highlands, hehe) - an off the beaten track gem and a very special place to me (half of my family hails from there). Impressed to see these guys hit Timișoara - one of the most beautiful, interesting and definitely underrated cities, right next to the border with both Hungary and Serbia.

Nice guys or not, I would never take you to that bakery, though. Nah: I'd take you round the corner, at the Athénée Palace's English Bar - the red arrow marks my very own spot since, heh, forever? And we'd have the Amalfi Old Fashioned cocktails: they are mandatory, here.

PS: the Romanian guy kept his word and took them places the next day. I'd happily babble about this next week, though - from home. :)

[cosmica-galaxy]

I hope you don't mind one last one for now but this ask has been in the back of my mind forever. I saw the weaponsmith!human ask & I fell in love with the idea. Based on John Wick 2 where the Baba Yaga goes equipment shopping & meets the Sommelier, picture this:

Cameron, DJ, Vee & Veteran were called down to the armory by Doc to see something. Upon arrival, the doors opened to reveal Doc & greeting them upon arrival & the human, who was wearing a fancy looking butler uniform & tuxedo with gloves, was polishing a paralyzer rifle with a cloth. They then put it back on the rack & turn to face their friends & caretaker.

"Good afternoon guys. I'm glad you all could come here today for what I like to call a, 'tasting'. Now then, let's get started. Cameron, Vet. Now I know of both of your fondness for the paralyzer rifles but, I can whole heartedly endorse this new upgraded version (hands them both each one). A higher frequency output for longer stunning duration against normal & larger opponents, a built in plasma ballistics knife for close quarters combat, a laser function for blasting stronger toilets to dust, & I know & hope you'll both appreciate the custom design & your names signed by yours truly of course. I've also, (pulls out two cases from under the display counter & opens them, revealing pistol variants of their rifles), made these more compact breed with the same power as their larger counterparts but with much better handling & mobility."

Now then, DJ. I've noticed that while you're race is more then capable in the knife-fight-distance & self defense with your soundwaves, there's one small key area that's lacking a little bit. Range. Now don't get me wrong I've seen your matriarch, her brother & your titan blast their knives with their soundwaves & no doubt you can do the same, I've always felt you could do more. Which is why, after a ethical thumbs up from Pal, I made you this (hands DJ his new gun). The cardiac pulse blaster. Functionally very similar to a speaker mimic's blast, albeit not as strong as the real thing. But it can penetrate headphones and disrupt a foes' cardiac rhythm, however it doesn't fully kill the unit. Instead, let the stress of the battle kill those toilets. No doubt it will up your kill count my friend.

And of course, I can't forget about you Vee. I would say you arguably have the most solid combat package. But I know for a fact that it can be perfected even more. (Takes out two wrist blasters with TV remotes sticking out to form their barrels) Should your TV light not work on whatever Skibidi you encounter, these blasters should come in handy. One blast will infect the toilet allowing you to mind-control it. And of course, (takes out a custom box with his new blades in them) the finest cutlery. All freshly stemmed & designed by me. The electrical obsidian material & the remote charging feature through the pulses of your own core that these have will allow you to cleave through metal & porcelain. The "reaper" shapes they have helps for better directional swings.

Now with that said, I really do hope you guys enjoy them & find them effective."

What are all their reactions?

P.S: Sorry this is so long.

If there's one thing the alliance members LOVE, it's getting new weapons. The camera units, both Vet and Camron, each explore the new guns frames and magazines before walking over to try them out in the shooting range that was built for testing such things. The first round of shooting enabled the pair to discover that they find that the guns were nimble, smaller, and still packed a PUNCH, judging from how badly singed the dummy's further into the range fared. Plus, the dummy that appears in front of both Camron and Vet was reflexively stabbed by both in their disgusting fake neck. Cleaving through the thick-skin material like warm butter. With a brief glance of excitement towards one another, the pair give the guns an approving thumbs up. DJ is excited to finally get a weapon that fits his faction a lot more. Knives are nice, but they are VERY close range and need multiple hits to kill...as a result, DJ has to be careful and lacks a kill count that's worthy of boasting about. However, the new gun in his hands felt amazing. Upon taking it to the shooting range and lining up a headphone-equipped dummy, he fires the first blast. The recoil was there, but it wasn't horrible. Plus, he finally understood how the gun could penetrate the headphones...the plastic that the headphones were made out of cracked and crumbled from the force of the blast...as well as the entire dummy's posture changed. It even skid back a few feet! DJ lets out a whistle sfx. He LOVES this new gun! Vee was a little apprehensive of exchanging his precious combat knives, but the sheer sleekness and reaper-like design of the new ones swayed him over nearly immediately. The biggest problem the TV units have is the glasses that the enemy uses to resist their powers...if this weapon can bypass such a handicap, then the battles would become easier to win. With a quick exchange of his knives and a wiring of the new weapon into his core-line, he heads over to practice with the new ones. The first was obvious, he needed to test these knives. As soon as the round started, skibidi dummies appear in the training area and he unsheathes his new scythes. With a swing, they cut through even the thickest of material with gliding accuracy, then with a flick and rotation of his wrist, he swings cleanly in the opposite direction. Nailing the dummy that appeared behind him. He swings again and again, ripping, shredding, and demolishing the dummies. Then, he saved the last one for long range as the remaining toilet dummy was a ways away. Of course, this would need a live subject, so all he could do was check the range on the weapon. Which was...quite a distance, surprisingly. Once it was all said and done, he retracts his scythes and nods in approval.

[mariacallous]

Before Yotam Ottolenghi had British Jewry in a sumac-scented chokehold, there was Evelyn Rose. With a weekly column in the Jewish Chronicle (the U.K.’s leading Jewish newspaper) for over 40 years and 14 cookbooks, she was the face and soul of the Anglo Jewish kitchen. 

From the 1960s to 2000s, rare was a Shabbat or holiday meal where at least one of Rose’s recipes didn’t feature. In fact, many of my family’s “signature” dishes (my mother’s stuffed cabbage, my grandmother’s lemon drizzle cake) are actually Rose’s, with a couple of small tweaks. Receiving Rose’s tome, “The Complete International Jewish Cookbook” (1976), when leaving home or getting married remains a rite of passage for British Jews. Mine is stained and annotated, just as my aunt, who gave it to me, intended. “Use and enjoy,” she wrote on the inside cover. “I expect to see it, in years to come, scribbled in, spattered and sticky!”

How Rose shaped the culinary habits of British Jews and beyond is a tale of perseverance, passion and a little bit of chutzpah. 

Born in 1925 in Manchester, U.K., Rose lived there all her life except for a four-year stint in the U.S., where she was evacuated during World War II. A home economics course at her Seattle high school sparked a passion for cooking, and she studied cooking demonstration techniques at the Manchester College of Housecraft on her return to the U.K. 

In the 1950s, Rose pitched a Jewish cookery course to BBC, the largest broadcasting corporation in the world, opening the program with a recipe for cheese blintzes. She went on to become the resident cook at Granada Television and cookery editor of Family Doctor Magazine, among other accolades. 

Rose began writing for the Jewish Chronicle in the late ‘50s. At the time, Florence Greenberg was well into her fourth decade of writing the weekly cookery column that Rose would take over a couple of years later. Greenberg was influential in her own right: She’d launched the column and was the second British writer to author a Jewish cookbook. And while Rose had already set herself apart from Greenberg by proving there was an appetite for Jewish food in the U.K. outside of Jewish media, this achievement alone was not enough.

To appeal to Jewish readers, Rose branded herself as a contemporary, cosmopolitan Jewish cook. She emphasized healthy eating and portion control, with lighter takes on traditional Ashkenazi dishes, and expanded the boundaries of Jewish food by incorporating dishes from the Diaspora. In the introduction of the second edition of “The Complete International Jewish Cookbook” renamed “The New Complete International Jewish Cookbook” (1992), she writes:

“Whereas the first edition of this book was heavily weighted towards the Ashkenazi kitchen, I have since read widely, consulted, eaten, cooked and now include many dishes from the Sephardi cuisine in all its exciting manifestations. I hope this will give a more balanced picture of Jewish cuisine worldwide.” 

From recipes for baba ganoush to ma’amoul cookies to layered kibbeh,Rose was remarkably ahead of the times in her definition of Jewish food and her willingness to play with classic fare. (See: Gefilte Fish Provencal, where classic gefilte fish patties are poached in a tomato sauce with thinly sliced bell peppers and Herbs de Provence.) 

Few have made the connection between Rose and Ottolenghi, an Israeli chef who’s established a food empire in the U.K. (and beyond) in the last 20 years, including uber-successful restaurants and cookbooks. Deemed “the Ottolenghi Effect,” he’s transformed the way Britain cooks by championing vegetables and Middle Eastern ingredients. Ottolenghi’s popularity among Anglo Jews today suggests he is Rose’s natural successor, but one only has to flick through “The New Complete International Jewish Cookbook” to see that she introduced her readers to many of the dishes he would become synonymous with.

Rose was able to challenge her readers with unfamiliar recipes and ingredients because they trusted her. She weaved straightforward, quick recipes among lesser-known, modern and elaborate dishes. Most importantly, her recipes were rigorously tested and, I can confirm, stand the test of time.

Rose passed away in 2003 at age 77, but the U.K., who has always loved its culinary leading ladies, will be forever changed by her. “Evelyn has become,” wrote Mandy Ross for the Guardian, “a collective Jewish mother to Jewish mothers everywhere. She is our modern matriarch.” 

[ricardian-werewolf]

Chapter 6: Crawl Out through the fallout!

Summary:

Alina, Nikolai and Genya are on the run from the Darkling, and in order to flee his malevolent grasp, they must make a decision - go West to the safety of Novyi Zem, or return East to find Morozova's herd before the Darkling can. It is this choice that will rend them apart or bring them closer together.

Notes:

Title taken from the song: Crawl out through the fallout - References to other universes are pretty explicit in this fic, and feel free to comment if you catch any references! Swearing otters is of course owed to @rthstewart. - Serious apologies in the length between chapters of this fic - my writing muse abandoned me for two months straight and i'm only now just getting her back. Hoping this continues!

Taglist: @lordbettany, @fauxraven, @portiaadams @jammerific

Reblogs/replies appreciated, and for every kind comment, another chapter!

Chapter below the cut

3 weeks later, close to the Fold.Kiribirsk.

Alina rolled straight from her bed-roll to the hard, packed earth of the First Army tent.

At her side, Nikolai crouched, his fingers taut on the canvas flaps of their tent. They’d pitched camp here easily enough - three Grisha refugees hidden amongst the First Army. Nikolai had slipped back into his major’s uniform, with Alina clad in his hussar’s pelisse and dolman. The usual olive linen uniform’s summer skirt covered her legs, with standard issue puttees and boots. Around her neck was a scarf of Shu silk edged in gold, the colour of the scarf a blazing teal. 

With them, Genya had pinned her hair back and sat clad in the First Army medical corps’s nurses uniform. Behind the lines against the Fjerdan forces, she’d found work in a medical tent and put her work in healing the wounded with scalpels and forceps. Her tailoring had been a secondary concern, and she did so sparingly. Alina sat beside Nikolai as the three of them broke their fasts with cups of hot tea, slices of fried potatoes, smoked herring and wafer-thin slices of black rye bread with small dollops of plum jam. Typical First Army fare.

“I’d forgotten what army food tasted like.” Nikolai muttered as he swigged back his tin cup of tea. Reaching across Genya’s plate, he exchanged her smoked herring for a pile of fried potato cakes and picked up Alina’s compass. 

“We’re facing directly east.” He twigged the compass for a few moments to ensure the mercury was level, and then leaned over to watch Alina tap her pencil against the map-paper. Three weeks of hiding amongst the very people sworn to find them had made each of them jumpy in their own ways. Nikolai badly wished to run straight for the Volkvolny at the first chance he had, but doing the cowardly thing didn’t save Ravka from its own evils. Alina needed him, and Genya needed someone on the inside of the Great Palace to clear her name. No doubt the Tsarina and Tsar were hungering to plaster Genya’s face across the countryside for a fat reward. Palace servants carried more secrets of the realm than even the cabinet-ministers.

What none of them had been prepared for was the Darkling’s revolt against the Tsar, backed by the Apparat. Nikolai had learned the news from a harried runner he’d intercepted on the camp’s outskirts and taken the message directly to the commander of the fort. He’d been a mere corporal. Long-term fighting against the Fjerdans had picked off their commanding officers and the new weapons of warfare Fjerda was importing from the Soviets and rapidly re-arming (illegally) Weimar Germany made Fjerda the undisputed master against the pitiful Ravkan army. 

Nikolai swished the tea in his cup as he took another sip and examined the paper map more closely. “Baba said that the herd was here…” His finger traced a path up from Kiribirsk to Chernast, a long, difficult trek to the north. It would’ve been better to go directly, but the lack of First Army outposts from the two bases put them in direct fire of Drüskelle attack or roaming brigands. Only an army caravan would keep the threat mediated.

“Any suggestions?” Alina asked as she sniffed her potato cake and stuck it between her teeth. “We could take the Vy back to…” She studied her map more closely. “Ryevost and then head into the Petrazoi…”

“Too many people.” Genya tapped the grey expanse of space between the Sokol, breaking the capital zone with the Midlands of the plains. “But do we know if there are any places to hide on the western river's edge?” 

“We could…” Nikolai traced the Sokol’s expanse up into the Petrazoi with the pad of his finger. “Take the canal boats or barges up. Hide there amongst the traders. It’ll be easy. Obviously…” He broke off as he looked at Alina, and furrowed his brows. Alina flinched.

“I’m not being tailored to make me look less Shu.” She murmured. 

“Of course not, Sunshine.” He rushed to explain. “I was more worried because I saw things on our trip out here - they’re making icons and relics of you.”

“Relics?” Alina breathed. “O-of what?”

“Bones.” Genya scraped up the remnants of the drippings from the bacon she’d pilfered from the cook-wagon with the last of her rye bread, and popped it into her mouth. 

“My bones?” 

“Your bones.” Nikolai squeezed her hand. “Seeing your face could cause a panic. And what with their iconography of you making you more Ravkan…” He shuddered. “I don’t want you to be plucked off the street and mobbed by your followers.”

“My followers?”

“The Apparat.” Nikolai handed her a rolled-up newspaper, which Alina flipped open. The headlines were filled in a bolded typeface of the ongoing search to locate her. SUN SUMMONER MISSING, ROYAL GUARDS BROUGHT OUT TO HELP SEARCH.

She shuddered and pushed the paper away. “No more, please.” She begged. “I just want to get out of here. We’ve lost weeks already. If we don’t do it, he’ll find the herd.”

“Alright.” Nikolai reached for the paper once more. “We’ll go. Tonight.” He squeezed her hand and then Genya’s. “Does Dominik know where we are?”

She nodded. 

“Make sure he forgets. As far as he knows, we’ve disappeared off the map. I’ve gone back to my apprenticeship in Novyi Zem and taken Genya with me. Alina has gone…” Nikolai paused to consider what to say, and she provided. “I’ve fled, driven mad by the Darkling’s powers and his lust.” She paused. “And I’ve become with child.”

She could not ignore the way Nikolai’s hand tightened on hers, the crush of his fingers. She swore that in the moment, Nikolai would have bludgeoned the head of Second Army to atoms. 

Alina did not stiffen, did not draw back. She couldn’t bring herself to. Why should she? She finally had a protector. Mal had done nothing to keep her safe, nothing to keep her from being taken by the Darkling. But Nikolai had. He’d taken her into his household, subtly moulded her to be her own person. Now, she would be that person. She straightened.

“I agree with Nikolai’s plan.” She examined the scar on her palm, the one she’d made to keep the testers off her back. The mark that without fail reminded her of Mal. Distantly, she remembered an instance of seeing the peasant wives who had not received their ducal lord’s favours as children. She wouldn’t be that girl. She wouldn’t let herself take the life of a wife. If she did, it would be of her choosing, and when she wished it. Lifting her head again, she held out her palm to Nikolai and Genya.

“Can one of you remove this?”

“Are you sure?” Genya murmured, her fingers paused over her skin. 

Alina gave a firm nod. “I want it gone.”

Nikolai silently watched as Genya’s fingers twitched, moving the flesh’s cells to heal over the scarred tissue. He leaned forward as he stuffed a map into the tube case and let out a low whistle. “She’s getting better.”

“Not good enough.” Genya growled as she concentrated. “It’s as permanent as I can make it.” She swatted Nikolai’s hand away and got to her feet. Looking around the tent, the three misfits paused for a moment.

“Tell me how we’re giving this place the slip.” Alina implored as she tugged on her old cartographer’s tunic. Genya shrugged. Nikolai smirked. “We just walk out. First Army’s experiencing a notoriously high level of desertion. As far as the Crown is concerned, we’ve already been gone for weeks. Now, come along.”

He tugged on an enlistment’s worn greatcoat and hid his officer’s sword in the map tube. Genya twisted her hair up under a peasant’s headscarf. Alina stuffed the scarf and dolman out of sight over a similar worn greatcoat.

From their tent they crossed the expanse of flat, barren land given over to the cookwagons and hospital tents. Kiribirsk had spread out from its command tents to encompass an entire division of regiments. Amongst all the yelling of the sergeants and whinnying of horses in the Hussars and artillery, the three of them slipped into obscurity easily enough.

Alina paused however, for she spotted several of her old friends from the cartography tent sitting around a fire, drinking tea and eating pierogi. Their lives of drawing surveyance maps and doing scouting missions sounded so strangely safe to her own. Alina stopped dead.

“We need to go.” Genya hissed, clutching her bag of provisions close to her as a hand-drawn cart rumbled past with that day’s dead piled high. The stench of rotting flesh rolled over the air, causing officers and soldiers alike to curse out the poor souls doing the duty. Alina pressed a hand over her face and dropped her head. Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned her back on the cartographers. With them went prayers of safety and hope. 

Nikolai winced, his normally warm face turning the colour of curdled milk. Alina watched his hand pull the signet ring he wore with the king’s sea from his hand. Into his pocket it went. In its place was a simple silver band with a fox in mid-leap. Looking into his face, Alina realised that her own powers had saved her from the horrors of war. Being the Sun Summoner had been her ticket away from the war against Fjerda and now… she owed it back a thousand times over.

“Let’s go.” She hefted her pack of food, books and compass further up her back, then took Nikolai’s hand. He pressed her knuckles to his lips and she blushed, but welcomed the touch. No one gave them a second look as they passed over forged passes to the guard at the gate. Another division was arriving, armed with stolen Fjerdan repeater rifles. Two soldiers heading eastwards under the care of a nurse was routine - war fatigue. Shell shock.

The war had gotten to be too much, so they were breaking. Instead of shooting them, sending them east to the care of one of the royal hospitals was much preferred. Nevermind if they were ever seen again…

Alina shook her head, and let Nikolai take the lead. As they made work along the Vy, he broke into a whistling tune that Alina recognized snippets of. She remembered hearing it once when Mal and she had disappeared into the nearby town to see the penny operas play in the dingy theatre hall. 

Mack the Knife.

“Oh, the shark, babe, has such teeth, dear

And it shows them pearly white

Just a jackknife has old MacHeath, babe

And he keeps it, ah, out of sight

You know when that shark bites with his teeth, babe

Scarlet billows start to spread.”

Alina turned the lyrics over and over in her mind as they moved eastwards. Their back-tracking of weeks of travel forced them to realise that winter was fast drawing to a close, if one followed the Gregorian calendar. However, this was Ravka and winter lasted from October to May. There was still snow on the ground. A blizzard that swept down from the Petrazoi and through the riverlocks of the Sokol set them back another week.

“Fancy gloves, oh, wears old MacHeath, babe

So there's never, never a trace of red

Now on the sidewalk, huh, huh, whoo sunny morning, un huh

Lies a body just oozin' life, eek

And someone's sneakin' 'round the corner

Could that someone be Mack the Knife?”

Ryevost came into view on a balmy Sunday morning, and Alina realized with a jolt that it was Butter Week already. The city shimmered in the light of the morning sun, with even its poorest districts bearing clean stoops and washed windows. Such a craze of cleaning frenzy had swept the entire city that the three travellers stuck out like dirty sore thumbs as they made their way through the streets. Nikolai led in front with Alina sandwiched between him and Genya for her own protection. If anyone tried anything it would be good for Nikolai to cleave them in half or charm them back into their darkened alleyway.

Alina, who had little experience with cities, found herself soon overwhelmed by the rats-warren of streets and alleyways that double-backed or became dead ends. Genya was incredibly composed, and waved her hand at the various smells and noises emanating from alleys. 

“We leave them alone and they won’t bother us. Now, if you were alone, I’d have advised you to come into the city through the main gate. It would’ve put you into the central district near the river and out of this section. But Nikolai knows his way around.” 

“How?” Alina asked. She knew Nikolai was barely at court but the idea of him coming to a port city like Ryevost made her feel uneasy. Nikolai, who had stopped at a stand to haggle with the owner, looked at Genya. She nodded, and Alina barely had time to say anything as Genya stuffed a kepi onto her coiffure and shoved Alina behind her larger form. 

“Two bedrolls, please. And who can I ask for maps of the Petrazoi?” Nikolai asked as he felt the bag of coins in his palm. All of them were gold 10 cent pieces. His fingers reached to his wallet tucked into one of his breeches pocket as the owner handed over two bedrolls and tent-bags. 

“Thank you.” He had already calculated the amount in his head he owned along with the tax, and slid three 20 bills over the wooden tabletop. The owner counted them, looking furtively from Nikolai to the money, then back again. He shrugged, and finally pocketed the money.

“Map seller off the Sankt Grigori square should be able to offer something, Major.” His gaze skirted to Alina who had been looking over Genya’s shoulder and his face whitened. “Sankt-” He shook his head suddenly and squinted. 

Nikolai froze, the bedrolls still in his hand. Too late, he realised he’d unbuttoned his coat to reach for his wallet and the golden braid of his uniform had become apparent. Steadying his breath, the second-prince of Ravka slid a golden coin across the table.

“You didn’t see us.”

“Never did. Travel safe, Major.” The man saluted Nikolai discreetly and then went back to assessing his wares. As Alina and Genya passed, an uproar broke out. Not from the seller, but a group of First Army scouts had been taking tea from a shop on the pavement. They rose to their feet as one, voices raised in cries of shock and anger.

“She’s with me, gentlemen!” Nikolai announced, weaving his way through the serfs and peddlers who crowded the street. His tall form and broad shoulders made his appearance even more imposing. 

“Major Lantsov..” One of the scouts stammered. “Begging your pardon, sir, but we’ve got orders to take both ladies back to the Great Palace. Tsar’s orders, you must understand.”

“Tsar’s orders?” Nikolai replied blankly. Since when was his father making orders about servants and missing Grisha? Normally that would be for his ministers. Or… Nikolai hated to think that the Darkling was finally acting on his plans, that he’d delay this long until they were so close to safety. All they had to do was get to the port a few streets below this one and hop on a Gyptian barge. Then, assuming they were on the Costa’s, they could float merrily upstream till they reached the town at the bottom of the Petrazoi-

“I’m not going!” Alina hissed, coiled close to Nikolai. He shook his head, and refocused on the situation. “Soldiers, I believe there’s been a mistake. The woman here with us is a nurse from the Sisters of Mercy. She is escorting this patient to Os Alta for medical treatment.”

“Why go through Ryevost, then?” The tallest scout of the trio challenged. His friends cast one another wary glances. Challenging a Major on such a statement was a death sentence. Nikolai’s face hardened and he stepped forward, grabbing the scout by the ear. In low tones, only for the other scout’s hearing, he hissed:

“When I find out who you three are, I’ll have you court martialled so fast that you won’t even be able to find clemency with a lawyer.” He pushed the scout back, and stepped back himself. 

“Let’s go.” He hissed to Genya and Alina. The bedrolls he slung up onto his back. With a wave of his hand, the glasses of tea in the scout’s hands shattered and they began to scream. Nikolai barely spared them a second glance. Passing by little shops selling tea, clothes, knick knacks and stalls of religious wares. Alina breathed in scents of unwashed bodies, cloves, spices from Novyi Zem, saw Jade pieces from mines in Shu Han, the exquisite embroidery and odd, brutal weapons of Fjerda all laid out on tabletops much like the one Nikolai had traded over.

Looking up, she saw the rickety buildings of stone and brick of Ravka with their arched windows which merchant’s wives leaned out of to talk, hang washing and simply people-watch. She knew, with an uncanny instinct, that if anything went awry, a simple cry from one of these birds on high could send the local militia and police sweeping down to apprehend any pickpocket. She buttoned up all her pockets just to be safe, and hoped she hadn’t already been pilfered. First Army soldiers of all the regiments mingled, some on leave from the nearby fort stationed here, others en-route to be shipped West to the Fold. Some were retirees, who wore the old, faded blue uniforms of the Pre Halmhend First Army. Nikolai watched those men with hawk’s eyes and grumbled under his breath.

The slowness of their trek up a single street made Alina realise just why people loved Nikolai so. Anything they needed, from salt to cooking oil was made with an added inquiry to bless and keep the royal family in their thoughts. Even with the fact that so many of them were serfs indented to some lord or another who held their lives and family’s welfare in their hands, these people loved Nikolai like a son. Some of the older babushka pinched his cheeks and fretted over his lean frame. Other women, the wives of merchants, asked for his advice on how to make something just right. His embroidery on the cuffs of his hussar’s Pelisse were fawned over, with the seamstress (or seamster) asking how he got something so complicated to lie flat. Offers of paying for their items were waved off, and Alina and Genya found themselves being handed entire wheels of cheese or links of smoked sausage, all from Nikolai’s charm. Simply due to the fact that he was kind enough to listen to these traders' woes with landlords and offer suggestions had them on the edge of their seats.

“How do you do it?” Alina asked as she shoved the massive wheel of cheese into her pack. She’d stopped at a stall to admire a pair of fur gloves and hat. Now they adorned her person simply due to the fact Nikolai had once helped the stall owner appeal his taxes to a proper magistrate. Nikolai, who had been chewing on a stick of bingtang hulu from a sweet seller, spoke around a mouthful of sugary sweetness:

“What, sunshine?” He murmured, taking her pack. He placed another stick of the sugar-hardened fruit into her gloved hands. Alina sniffed it, her eyes widening in pleasant surprise. She’d not gotten much of a chance to try Shu delicacies, and munched on her stick as Nikolai turned them left and then right down a series of winding alleyways. Making up for a good period of lost time, he led the three of them into the port district. The smell of river-traffic only heightened the sticky-sweetness of spices and aromas permeating the city’s air, and the stench of fish from the fish-wives crowded the docks.

“Who’re we getting a boat from?” Genya asked as she bit into a powdery bun dusted in sugar, filled with jam preserves. The size of it made Alina’s massive wheel of cheese feel juvenile in comparison. Nikolai whistled a cheery tune as he led them down a set of winding sandstone stairs, across a long wooden dock made extremely cramped by long stands of tables headed by fish-wives disembowelling that day’s river catch. The river otters waiting in droves at the bottom of the docks swore at one another.

Audibly.

“Look here, you fucker! Give me that fish head or I’ll drown you with my own paws!”

“Shut up you wheezing old windbag! It’s mine!” Thus displeased, the otter armed with the fishhead dove under the water and the others gave a rapid and angered chase. Amongst this the fish-wives’s curses at the otters rang out, threatening turning several of them into gloves and stoles. Returned threats to the fish-wives consisted of telling affairs and destroying their stock, or enlisting the local beavers to eat through the wooden frames of their homes.

Alina scurried to follow after Genya and Nikolai and passed by fewer and fewer stalls until the bustle of the town had retreated into the distance. Yet the docks and jetties wove further onwards as the river slimmed down at its banks. As the ground beneath them turned to fresh planks, then worn and finally, rotting, they stopped.

“They’re here.” Nikolai slung the two bedrolls off his back and marched down the dock to a long houseboat carved and painted in a multitude of colours. Sitting on top of the boat was a boy with dark hair and eyes, a hawk at his shoulder, which in an odd way, seemed to mirror the boy himself.

“Tony.” Nikolai greeted, swinging himself up onto the rooftop of the boat. Tony stirred, and jumped to his feet. “Nikolai! We got your letter and came as soon as we could. Good too, since it’s nearly spring and we want to be back in Oxford for the Trinity term. Lots of College boys and their families wanting to sample our-” His voice broke and took on a vaguely debonair air. “Such rustic and mysterious wares.”

“That’s ‘nough out of you, Tony. Get back below deck. I’ll ‘andle ‘im.” A woman with another hawk at her shoulder had appeared out of the stern end of the rowboat. Bearing the same dark hair and eyes as her son, this woman merely had to give Nikolai a glare and he was scampering across the boat-top to kiss her hand. She pinched his cheeks more aggressively than any babushka and cast her gaze to Alina and Genya waiting on the dockside.

“Who’re they?” Tony asked, as his mother whacked the top of his head with the back of her hand. He stuck his tongue out and scurried below deck, cackling as his hawk screeched gleefully. Nikolai turned back to the woman.

“Ma Costa, this is Genya, who I’ve told you much about and you met her at the horse festival last autumn.” Nikolai explained, to which Mrs Costa nodded in recognition. “The other? Small, spry girl. One of us?”

“No, not that I think. This is Alina Starkov, the Sun summoner.”

Mrs Costa’s eyes widened and she looked at Alina more closely. “Heavens and all the stars, this is something.” She murmured. “Come below, all of you. We can talk more easily. Your blasted First Army has been having us rope up out here. Fearing ‘ell do somethin’ unpalatable.” She scoffed. 

Nikolai sighed, and sat down on a long bench-seat set into one of the porthole windows. Alina collapsed next to him and Genya next to Alina. Out of sight of anyone, Genya undid her scarf over her hair and shook out her curls. Alina yanked off the kepi and tucked it inside her bulging pack.

“Here, these are for you.” Nikolai reached into his pack and began to withdraw a whole multitude of items he’d gotten from talking to people. Alina had thought it strange when the items he was buying had begun to veer into things no one needed for an expedition to hunt a stag, and now realised this was their way north. She went to her own pack but stopped herself.

Nikolai waved his hand over all the cloths and bolts of linen, medicinal herbs, maps of the “North,” and other bits and bobs, from sewing kits to hunters knives. “Is this enough?”

“Yes.” Ma Costa examined a long bolt of Zemeni purple cloth and held it to her knee. “‘Hat’ll look lovely with your complexion, Nikolai. You should keep it.”

“It’s more important for your upcoming Roping, Ma Costa.” Nikolai pressed a hand over hers. He reached into his pack and held out something else, for her eyes only. “I got this from an informant. It’s about Billy. Use it as you wish or bring it to John Faa.”

Ma Costa seemed to pause in her work for the moment as she looked at the package. Finally, with trembling fingers, she took the package and unwrapped the paper. Out fell a small, metal disk inscribed with a person’s name and an image of the animal on the other side.

“This is what the Gobblers have been doing. They don’t know you have this.” He closed her fist around his own and squeezed tight. “Take it to John Faa, and he’ll do somethin’ I’m certain.” Alina watched this all play out with her eyes locked on Nikolai’s. 

“What do you folks need in return for all this, eh?”

“Safe passage to the mouth of the Sokol. I believe there’s a tear up there.” Nikolai raised a brow. “One that leaves you somewhere within the bounds of the Fens.”

“This boy!” Ma Costa murmured to herself. “Always one step ahead of everyone else.” She shook her head, then settled her gaze on Nikolai once again. 

“‘Eard that, Tony?” She called to her son. Tony put his head into the cabin and gave a nod. “I’ll go unrope her and we can get set off at ‘nce.”

Ma Costa got to her feet and lit the spirit flame under the little stove set into the opposite wall. Wordlessly, Genya got to her feet and came over to stand beside Ma Costa, who wrapped her arm around Genya’s shoulder. Genya leaned her head against the older woman’s, and sighed. Alina examined her pack wordlessly as Nikolai slid into Genya’s old spot.

“Who are these people?”

“Gyptians. Romani. They’re a nomadic group from England, which they call Brytian in their world.” He paused. “Genya and Ma Costa are very close since I took her to England last autumn for the Horse Fair.” He paused and looked at Alina. “You hadn’t been found yet. It…” He shook his head. “I’ll tell you later. There’s something I need to look at.” 

He got to his feet and rummaged about in the cabinets for a moment, then pulled out a long canvas tube. Alina watched him roll it open on the table and got a good look at the paper for a few moments, then looked away. For some reason, she was seized by the urge that this map, whatever it read, was for Nikolai’s eyes alone.

She had never seen anything like it, however, and she found herself taking short glances whenever she could. The map was dark blue, and instead of countries displayed multicoloured dots arranged in a circle connected with grey, almost white lines. An outer circle of more connected dots of varying colours made up the rest of the map, and vaguely shaped constellations brought it all together.

He took a pen in one hand and an abacus in the other, and set to work. While the tea brewed, the long-boat slipped its moorings and began to glide up the expanse of the Sokol, leaving Ryevost behind. Alina leaned her head back against the wall of the cabin and closed her eyes. It had been several long weeks of walking, and as she let herself fall asleep, she realised that this was the first time she’d felt safe since fleeing the Little Palace with her friends. 

As the coal-powered long-boat steamed further north, far to the east, the Darkling began to mount a rescue attempt to find the Little Saint, and capture the Stag. Too much dalliance during the long winter months had robbed him of a chance to set out a proper rescue mission. With the weather turning warmer, he knew it was needed for him to find Alina.

He had to find her, and no matter the cost, he would. Not only that, he would put the antlers of Morova’s stag onto her thin shoulders and let fate decide what came next.

 For the Darkling, fate was his servant and his lever. It was up to Alina whether she would let fate control her. 

End of chapter 6.

[fictionkinfessions]

(in response to https://www.tumblr.com/fictionkinfessions/775238277622022144/in-response-to wow we’re making a chain or something)

Metal, honestly it’s quite relieving to know it wasn’t my fault. in retrospect, seeing how father tended to treat most of his creations, i hate to say that i’m not surprised. i had to impress him a lot while on the starfall islands to get where i was. i still care for him, always have, but alas, it was frighteningly common to compete for his attention when you were his creation.

i’m really happy to hear you remember Baba too. honestly, i was worried i would never meet another who’s timeline is more accurate to the games. it’s a bit relieving. playing the dressup game sounds delightful—i do wish i got memories more often, so there would be a chance i could remember it too. i hope we enjoyed the game, i’ve always had a fascination with that genre.

despite the above, strangely enough, i do remember you getting protective over me, at least vaguely. and truth be told, i did end up being an older sibling in this life, so i do think i understand a bit more, now. the standard fare is almost unavoidable, but i’m glad you grew to care for me as well.

- Sage Robotnik, Sonic Franchise

placeholder text because tumblr wont let me post ask messages without something in the reply box

[rinwellisathing]

Get to know my OCs: OCs as parents:

Jaina Thalassia:

Her parents were in general warm, loving, encouraging people who supported and encouraged Jaina and her twin brother when they were children even when it meant leaving the island to live in Baldur's Gate.

Jaina's father had high expectations of her since as the first born by four minutes, she was meant to become the captain and inherit his ship and also she was named Umberlee's chosen at a young age, a great honor for a sea faring family devoted to the goddess, so Jaina is acutely aware of how parental pressure feels and shies away from placing it on her own children.

While her illness eventually robs her of energy and vitality, preventing her from leaving her bed most days and when she does, she is mostly bound to an arcane wheelchair, before her illness got to that point she was an enthusiastic, kind mother who nurtured and encouraged her children, giving them every educational advantage and fostering a sense of chivalry and righteousness helped along by Wyll's own values. She was a very hands on parent before she got sick.

Father Ilya Barghest:

Ilya never wanted to have a biological child. His pregnancy was accidental and unexpected during the very end of his relationship with his first love, Amrik Vanthampur. Ilya didn't even know he was carrying a child until he'd already found out his lover's true nature and confronted him, ultimately being forced to kill him when it became clear the horrors his family had committed.

Ilya approached the fey to painlessly rid him of the child, but it was Baba Yaga who was listening and she spirited Ilya away and modified his memory to instead claim his child as her own. Ilya is an excellent teacher and when other partners have children, he is helpful and supportive, he simply feels he's a better mentor and teacher than he would be a parent and the idea of carrying a child unsettles him. Perhaps it was a blessing Baba Yaga took away the memory of his pregnancy and his child.

Sentry Ojeda:

When he and Enver first conceived their daughter before his fall from grace, Sentry was ecstatic to raise a little assassin who would rule over the broken and brutalized world like tyrant queen, he had plans that he and Enver would be better parents than their own ever were.

All of that changed during his journey back to Baldur's Gate after being tadpoled. He began to doubt he was the right person to raise and care for a child or that he was even worthy to. When he and Halsin had children, he was glad Halsin and later Astarion took so well to them and it gladdens his heart that the twins have each become so attached to their other fathers and that Halsin and even Astarion are so proud and honored by that.

When his teenage daughter returns to the city and befriends a paladin who intends to take her on as a squire, Sentry is glad for this and for how good the girl's adoptive parents were, seeing them as far better for her than he and Enver ever could have been broken as they are.

Kroger of Creche K'liir:

He is not one of his people who is meant to have children himself, but he is a warm, gentle, and encouraging father figure to Jaina and Wyll's children as well as a beloved and respected uncle to Shadowheart and Lae'zel's.

He is always there with advice, healing, and words of encouragement/reassurances when they need him.

Octavia of Creche K'liir:

More of a big sisterly type, even to her partners' children. Absolutely not to be trusted with advice for teaching as she has no filter and kids will learn fireball at like age 5 if left to her own devices.

[lex-the-lesbiann]

NO YOU'RE SO REAL FOR THAT LEX AND YOUR FUCKING TAGS YES YES YES YES YES (also if we *really* want to get into it, one world is full of people who have actual magic and dragons and are just generally better equipped to deal with everything? Not that it fared out well for them all the same but still.) CALL ME LARK OAK GARCIA THE WAY I-

BABA YOU READ MY MINDDD i was a little too scared to put that point in my tags but i ABSOLUTELY AGREE they were better equipped to deal with the doodler

also i find it especially difficult to say Sparrow made the wrong decision when we know that the doodler made it so plants couldnt grow (evidenced by Erin needing to have a mini sun to keep her trees alive) which definitely caused MASSIVE food shortages??? also im just realizing what that couldve meant for the Oak-Garcias specifically in their vegan beliefs????

now obviously i dont think those logistics are something we’re *supposed* to think about (which is very fair, not judging at all) but they are something that *im* gonna be thinking about

[cemyafilmarsiv]

Cemil Şov (The Cemil Show)

Oyuncu olmanın hayalini kuran bir güvenlik memurunun hikayesi...

Oyuncular: Ozan Çelik, Nesrin Cavadzade, Serkan Keskin, Cezmi Baskın, Alican Yücesoy, Salih Kalyon, Şennur Nogaylar

Yönetmen: Barış Sarhan

Beğenilme ve takdir edilme arzusu her insanın nefes almak, su içmek, uyumak kadar gereksinim duyduğu bir ihtiyaçtır. Ancak bu ihtiyaç kendini olduğundan farklı olarak özel ve önemli görme, her daim takdir ve onaya ihtiyaç duyma noktasına varırsa bazı davranışsal bozuklukların ortaya çıkışına sebebiyet verir ki bu durum psikiyatride Narsistik Kişilik Bozukluğu olarak tanımlanmıştır. Reddedilişlerle, alaya alınmalar ve küçümsemelerle karşılık bulmayıp tatmin edilmeyen arzu, motivasyonunu hırs ve öfkeden alan bir obsesyona bürünür ve kişiyi öz benliğinde yıkıma hatta bazen telafi edilemeyecek hasara götürür.

ÖZ YIKIMA GÖTÜREN TUTKU: CEMİL ŞOV

Barış Sarhan, ilk uzun metrajı “Cemil Şov”da kendi iç sesini dinleyerek varoluş yolculuğuna çıkan ancak bu yolculukta ünlü olmanın karanlık cazibesine kapılan bir adamın trajedisini ele alıyor. Bir AVM’de güvenlik görevlisi olarak çalışan ve küçüklüğünden beri oyuncu olmak isteyen Cemil’in (Ozan Çelik) hikâyesine odaklanan bu film, Yeşilçam’da kötü adam karakteriyle (anti-kahraman) meşhur olmuş Turgay Göral’ın baş rolünde olduğu “Kabus” filminin siyah-beyaz sahneleriyle açılıyor, bir sonraki sahnede ise Cemil’in bu filmin yeniden çevrimi için yapılan oyuncu deneme çekiminde (audition) olduğunu görüyoruz. Oyunculuk konusunda epey kabiliyetsiz olan Cemil, o çekimde yönetmen tarafından beğenilmeyince pes etmek yerine AVM’deki odasında yönetmene ulaştırmak için sahneyi oynadığı bir demo kayıt alır. Bu sırada iş arkadaşı Burcu’nun (Nesrin Cevadzade) sosyal medyada babasıyla çektiği fotoğraf dikkatini çeker. Cemil’in gökte aradığı yerdedir, o baba Turgay Göral’dan başkası değildir. ***

Cemil: Alacağım rolü, ne diyorsun?

Burcu: Ne rolü ya? Allah aşkına Cemil, ne rolü? Sen kendini oyuncu mu sanıyorsun, ya seni kim ciddiye alır? Kimsin sen ya?

Cemil: Aktörüm ben.

Burcu: (kahkahayla): Götümün aktörü.

Cemil: Göreceksin! Göreceksin!

Ünlü olma duygusu da beğeni ve takdir görme isteğinden azade değil; görme ve görülme ihtiyacı üzerine odaklanır. Tam da bu bağlamda filmin ana karakteri olan Cemil’in AVM’nin güvenlik kameralarının görüntülerinin izlendiği bir odada çalışması ve Burcu’nun sorunlu bir ilişki yaşadığı babasıyla doğum gününde çektiği ‘selfie fotoğraf’ını görülebilirliği en çok sağlayan sosyal medya hesabı Instagram’da paylaşması tesadüfi seçimler değildir. Tüm gününü Burcu’nun ‘fare deliği’ olarak adlandırdığı o odada başkalarını izleyerek geçiren Cemil, izleyen değil izlenen-görülen kişi olmak; Burcu ise fotoğraf paylaşımıyla zamanında ünlü bir oyuncu olan babasının ününden faydalanarak ‘like almak’ derdindedir. Evli olan AVM müdürü Zafer’le (Alican Yücesoy) yaşadığı birliktelik de temelinde beğenilme-haz duygusunu tatmin etme üzerine kuruludur, kariyerinde yükselebilme ihtimalini de bu hazzın peşinden giderek sağlayacağını düşünür. Kendi varoluşsal çabasını yaratırken olduğu kişiyi yok sayarak bir persona geliştiren Cemil’in (ego), alt benliği Burcu (id), üst benliği ise Turgay Göral (süper ego)’dır; üç karakteri bir kişinin temsilleri gibi okumak da mümkündür ve üçü için de ‘tutunamayanların hikâyesi’ demek yanlış olmayacaktır.

Cemil Şov, yine aynı isimle 2015’te kısa metraj olarak çekilen ve izlediğim an “bu, kesinlikle uzun metraj olmalı” dediğim bir yapımdı; kısa metrajın ana hikâyesi ayın elemanı olmaya çalışan bir güvenlik görevlisi üzerine kuruluydu.

Grafik tasarım mezunu, markaların tasarım işleriyle yıllarca uğraşan ve aynı zamanda reklam filmleri de çeken bir yönetmenin ilk filminde çok daha estetik kaygı güderek fazlasıyla stilize resimler yaratacağını düşünür(d)üm. Oysa Sarhan, kötü adamın yok oluşa giden hikâyesini hareketli kamera ve reklam ışığının aksine sahnelerle paralel giden, kimi yerde patlayan ancak efektif ve bazen rahatsız eden bir sinema diliyle anlatma yoluna gitmiş. Görüntü yönetmeni Soykut Turan’la başarılı bir birliktelik kotararak doğru bir sinematografi ortaya koyan Sarhan’ın rejisi ve teknik tercihleri hem cesur hem bilinçli. ***

Benim de sıram gelecekti, işte şimdi başroldeyim;

kötüyüm ama başroldeyim.

Üç bölüme ayrılan filmin her bir bölümü (genç) Turgay Göral karakterinin olduğu Yeşilçam sahnesiyle açılır;

Bölüm: Yaşadığın Hayatı Hak Etmiyorsun Bölüm: Siz benim Babamın Kim Olduğunu Biliyor Musunuz? Bölüm: Davetli Değildim Ama Gelmeye Mecbur Hissettim Kendimi Yeşilçam kısımlarında ‘Film Noir’ tarzı ışığa sadık kalınırken filmin genelinde kullanılan renkler de dikkat çekici; başlangıçta mavi ve tonları hakimken ikinci bölüm ve sonrasında kırmızının daha baskın olarak kullanıldığını görüyoruz. Yeşilçam sahnelerinden ana filmin sahnelerine geçiş planları, dinamik kurgusu, müzikleri, ses tasarımı, kostüm-sanat yönetimindeki özeni ve Cemil’in obsesyonuyla paralel giden atmosferin yansımasıyla gayet başarılı ve övgüyü hak eden bir ilk film. Kamera arkasındaki bu başarıyı kamera önünde rolünün hakkını sonuna dek vererek nefis bir performansa imza atan Ozan Çelik tamamlıyor. Filmin negatif hanesine kimi seyirci için uzun gelebilecek süresini yazabiliriz, ancak anlatının temposunu hiç düşürmediğinden (ve filmi ikinci kez izlediğimde buna tam olarak emin olduğumdan) bunu bir kusur olarak görmedim. Yan karakterler daha derinlikli yazılabilse ve hikâyeye daha çok eklemlenseydi çok daha iyi bir filmin ortaya çıkması kaçınılmazdı.

Sinemamızda özgün bir yapım olarak yerini alan ve öyle de hatırlanacağına inandığım Cemil Şov, gelecek vaat eden bir yönetmeni, Barış Sarhan’ı tanımamızı sağladı. Kendisiyle bir sonraki ���şov”unda buluşabilmek dileğiyle…

İyi seyirler, sinemayla kalın.

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