#letter to fellow abuse survivors

[whumpthemusical]

Whump: The Musical Prompts!!

As stated before, this challenge will run from March 1- March 31, 2024. All fandoms are welcome to participate despite it being prompts based off of musicals. Once again, all types of media are allowed. This challenge has the standard "choose one for the day" style, but feel free to do all three prompts if that's what you want to do!! All types of whump are allowed, but please be respectful to your fellow audience members and properly tag it!! Some of these prompts are sensitive, so make sure you warn your readers correctly! There will be an ao3 collection and an FAQ post coming soon, so if you have any further questions or comments about this challenge, feel free to drop me a line. Happy writing, my beautiful ingénues, and enjoy the show :)))

The prompts will be listed under the cut for those who have difficulty reading fonts!!

Cats- Sabotage • Second Chances • "I Can Dream Of The Old Days."

Wicked- Mob Mentality • Propaganda • "No Good Deed Goes Unpunished."

Jesus Christ Superstar- Whipping • Betrayal • "Then I Was Inspired, Now I'm Sad And Tired."

Les Mis- Survivor's Guilt • Failure • "Drink With Me To Days Gone By."

Heathers- Poison • Reluctant Whumper • "Wanna fight for me?"

Newsies- Chronic Pain • Exploitation • "Let 'Em Laugh In My Face, I Don't Care."

The Last Five Years- Infidelity • Gaslighting • "I Will Not Lose Because You Can't WIn."

Hadestown- Deals • Doomed Narrative • "Doubt Comes In."

Sweeney Todd- False Imprisonment • Razors • "Have You Decided It's Safer In Cages?"

Rent- Substance Abuse • Poverty • "Feels Too Much Damn Like Home."

Bare: A Pop Opera- Outing • Religious Trauma • "Please, See Me."

Waitress- Unplanned Pregnancy • Abuse • "She Is Broken And Won't Ask For Help."

Tick Tick Boom- Atychiphobia • Working To Exhaustion • "Is This Real Life?"

Dear Evan Hansen- Deception • Broken Bone • "Words Fail."

West Side Story- Star-Crossed Lovers • Prejudices • "A Boy Who Kills Cannot Love."

Come From Away- Stranded • Aftermath • "Blankets And Bedding And Maybe Some Food."

Spring Awakening- Withheld Information • Suicide  • "I Don't Scream, Though I Know It's Wrong."

Hamilton- Hurricane  • Dueling • "I Will Kill Your Friends And Family To Remind You Of My Love."

Falsettos- Sickness • Identity Issues • "Death Is Not A Friend."

Into The Woods- Blame • Lost • "Nothing But A Vast Midnight."

The Great Comet- Abduction • Letters • "Did You Love That Bad Man?"

In The Heights- Grief • Homesickness • "I Know That I'm Letting You Down."

Be More Chill- Mind Manipulation • Panic Attack • "Everything About Me Makes Me Want To Die."

Moulin Rouge- Class Differences • Sex Work • "Come What May."

Chicago- Cold Blood • Trial • "He Had It Coming."

Six- Execution • Trauma Bonding • "Playtime's Over."

Ride The Cyclone- Unexpected Tragedy • Forgotten Whumpee • "I Hear The Anguish Of The Street."

The Rocky Horror Show- Obsession • Wrong Place, Wrong Time • "I've Seen Blue Skies Through The Tears."

Nerdy Prudes Must Die- Bullying • Ritual • "Who Will Pray For You?"

Jekyll And Hyde- Duality • Good Vs Evil • "If I Die, You'll Die."

Phantom Of The Opera- Disfiguration • Shunned • "My Power Over You Grows Stronger Yet."

[matan4il]

Amin al-Husseini docu: part 7

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Last

Translator's notes:

-> Auschwitz as a camp was huge, bigger than most cities. It was built in parts. The initial, concentration camp was built close to (and was named after) the Polish town of Oświęcim, called in German Auschwitz. It was later expanded, too. The extermination camp, centered around the gas chambers, was built in 1942, and by that point, the entire camp's area was so big, that this part was closer to (and named after) the Polish town of Brzezinka, called in German Birkenau. The concentration camp part was nicknamed Auschwitz I, the extermination camp part was Auschwitz II, Auschwitz-Birkenau, or just Birkenau. There was also an area known as Auschwitz III, where the factories using (mostly Jewish) slaves were.

-> The Sonderkommando were Jews who had been forced by the Nazis to operate the gas chambers. They were often selected based on being less able to communicate the horrors they'd seen to other Jewish slaves in the camp, for example many of the Sonderkommando were Greek Jews (while most European Jews were Ashkenazim, who shared the common Jewish language of Yiddish, the majority of Greek Jews were Sephardim, and spoke the Jewish language of Ladino. Thus, communication between the two groups was harder). Even when the Sonderkommando were physically capable of going on with their work, the Nazis would routinely exterminate them, to wipe out the witnesses of this industrialized genocide. My wonderful colleague, who you see interviewed in this docu, Professor Gideon Greif, in addition to writing one of the most comprehensive books about Auschwitz, also recorded the testimonies of the last surviving Sonderkommando, and published them in an emotionally difficult to read, but really important book, titled We Wept Without Tears. The photograph of Shaul Chazan, one of the last sonderkommando, is from a 1993 trip to Auschwitz, where Prof. Greif recorded a few of the testimonies, as they were being given in the place they were about. This docu has now been translated into English. The book was also the basis for the Oscar-winning film, Son of Saul.

-> The Capo was a camp slave, who was appointed by the Nazis to "supervise" a group of other camp slaves. In Nazi camps where regular criminals were incarcerated together with non-criminal groups, such as Jews, the Capos were often the former, because a part of the idea behind using the Capos was to implement a "divide and rule" system, meaning the less empathy the Capo had for those under his "supervision," the better. Some Capos did what the Nazis told them to out of fear, some enjoyed their new status and were abusive to their fellow camp slaves, and some Capos tried to use the position in order to help, even save, other slaves. I'm detailing this, because there's a misconception that all Capos were traitors.

-> Dieter Wisliceny was directly responsible for the murder of over 106,000 Jews from Slovakia and Greece alone (and he helped Eichmann with the extermination of over 500,000 Hungarian Jews, too). He was arrested by the Americans and NOT put on trial at Nuremberg. Wisliceny was eventually brought to justice by Czechoslovakia, which demanded his extradition.

-> I hope it's okay to add something personal, because the docu briefly shows a translation of a letter written by the Mufti to the Romanian Foreign Minister. My great uncle is Jewish Romanian author and Holocaust survivor, Norman Manea. He wrote about a part of what my family's been through because of the collaboration between the Nazis and the Romanians, as the Jews from eastern Romania were exiled to Transnistria by the hundreds of thousands to die there, in his memoir (which was translated into English), The Hooligan's Return. I have pictures of starved Jewish kids in Transnistria, their bodies look like skeletons everywhere, except their swollen bellies (a now known symptom of starvation). I don't bring these pictures to the museum, unless I have reason to believe I may have Holocaust deniers in the group, the pics are that terrible to me. Among the rescue attempts of Jews, the Mufti stopped a plan to save 80,000 Jews from Romania, and 5,000 Romanian Jewish kids exiled to Transnistria. I can't explain how I feel about that. He never paid for his crimes, they're not even recognized, but then the anti-Israel crowd screams that this is all about "the occupation," even though the State of Israel didn't even exist during WWII, when the Mufti sentenced to death a part of my people, a part of my community, and maybe even a part of my family.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[ninja-muse]

Last month I clearly posted my wrap-up a day too early because I ended up DNFing a book that same day and therefore starting another. I don't think that'll happen again, but I'm making sure to schedule this for the first just to be sure.

Anyway, this was an all right month of reading—some greats, some simple okays—and a very good month for not acquiring books. Only one ARC came home with me, I offloaded three, and I'm almost certainly not going to buy any books in the last day of the month, but I still have 12 hours. That might change, in which case this post will also and you'll never know what I originally typed. Yeah, that worked well. Darn used bookstores!

You already know how much I liked The Briar Club. My other top reads were A Desolation Called Peace (anyone surprised?), Wandering Stars (outside my wheelhouse but good), and Nicked, which is also out in the summer and was my solo ARC haul of the month. If anyone thinks "gay medieval heist novel" sounds like a good time, they should pick that up. Also, anyone who likes cats and picture books needs to pick up Floof.

And my lows might as well start with my DNF from last month, I'm Afraid You've Got Dragons. I was really hoping it would pick up and I could push through, but it was just the wrong sort of silly for me. (I ended up going home without a book, then binging Most Ardently over the next couple days after my Libby hold came early.)

I also found The Deerfield Massacre to be odd—less rigorous than I'd have liked, a little wobbly on its thesis, doing a poor job of balancing "this must have sucked for the survivors" with Indigenous perspectives and an awareness that the Europeans were, in fact, colonizers. And A Letter to the Luminous Deep sounded so good, but I found it slow and couldn't quite connect to the characters or world.

I don't know how May is going to go, in terms of reading, so this book might end up being my review of the month, but I'm enjoying it so am going to rec it now: Evelina! Frances Burney was one of Austen's favourite authors and I can absolutely see why, and how she influenced her. If you like Austen's novels, you should 110% pick this up, because it's got romantic troubles, a highly embarrassing family, a number of awkward balls and parties, and all manner of drama. Why hasn't this been adapted? It should have been years ago.

Lastly in bookish and/or life news, my store's latest Indie Bookstore Day party was a rousing success and I don't think my legs have recovered yet from all the walking. My ability to socialize almost certainly hasn't. (It's been three days.) Thank goodness for book lovers and my fellow booksellers. Couldn't have done it without all of them.

Click through to see everything I read this month, in the rough order of how glad I was to have read them.

A Desolation Called Peace - Arkady Martine

The war with the aliens is not going well and Mahit Dzmare and Three Seagrass are called on to help. Which won’t be easy, but it’s harder because politics.

8.5/10

🏳️‍🌈 main characters (bisexual, sapphic), 🏳️‍🌈 author

library book

Wandering Stars - Tommy Orange

150 years in the life of a Cheyenne family, before and after the events of There, There.

8/10

largely Cheyenne cast, 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (multisexual, nonbinary), Cheyenne-Arapaho author

warning: genocide, alcoholism, addiction, drug use, self-harm

library book

The Briar Club - Kate Quinn

A new boarder moves into Briarwood house in Washington, D.C. in 1950, upending the dull day-to-day. Four years later, someone dies. Out in July.

8.5/10

🏳️‍🌈 POV character (bisexual), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary character (sapphic), Black secondary and minor characters

warning: domestic abuse, murder, race riot

reading copy

Nicked - M.T. Anderson Brother Nicephorus accompanies the saint hunter Tyun and his piratical crew on a mission to, erm, liberate the bones of St. Nicholas. Out in July.

8.5/10

🏳️‍🌈 protagonist (Achillean), major 🏳️‍🌈 character (Achillean), major Central Asian character, Muslim secondary characters

reading copy

Nanny Ogg’s Cookbook - Terry Pratchett with Stephen Briggs and Paul Kidby (illustrator)

A collection of Nanny Ogg’s recipes and thoughts.

7.5/10

gifted/off my TBR shelves

Most Ardently - Gabe Cole Novoa

Oliver Bennett yearns to live on his own terms, under his real name, and kiss boys. Unfortunately, the first boy in question, one Fitzwilliam Darcy, might like him as Oliver but hates his “other self”.

6.5/10

🏳️‍🌈 main character (trans man), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (gay, bisexual women), 🏳️‍🌈 author

warning: deadnaming, misgendering

library ebook

Slippery Creatures - KJ Charles

When various threatening men appear in Will Darling’s bookshop seeking information he doesn’t have, Will turns to the first helpful person he meets—an aristocrat named Kim.

6.5/10

🏳️‍🌈 protagonists (bisexual man, achillean), Black Welsh secondary character

library ebook

A Letter to the Luminous Deep - Sylvie Cathrall

In 1002, E. and Henerey begin a correspondence. In 1003, her sister and his brother begin to piece together what might have happened to them.

6.5/10

POV character with anxiety disorder, 🏳️‍🌈 POV characters (lesbian, bi man), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (sapphic, achillean), brown-skinned secondary character

reading copy

Hansel and Gretel - Neil Gaiman with Lorenzo Mattotti (illustrator)

An illustrated retelling.

7/10

off my TBR shelves

The Deerfield Massacre - James L. Swanson

The story of an infamous raid in 1704 New England, and the way it’s been mythologized since.

5/10

warning: racism, violence, murder, murder of children

library book

Picture Books

The Pie Reports - Hayley Lowe

Noor and Granddad love pie, but there’s an ocean between them, so they meet every week to eat pie on video chat. Then one day, Granddad doesn’t log on—he’s having a blue day.

🇨🇦

Floof - Heidi McKinnon

A day in the life of Floof the cat.

DNF

I’m Afraid You’ve Got Dragons - Peter S. Beagle

Robert doesn’t want to be the country’s dragon exterminator on the best of days, but then Princess Cerise meets Prince Reginald. Out in May.

Currently reading

Evelina - Frances Burney

Evelina travels to London and learns that the only thing more distressing than suitors is her newly discovered family. Inspired Austen.

off my TBR shelves

The Demon of Unrest - Erik Larson

The story of the six months leading up to the American Civil War.

warning: racism, slavery

reading copy

Music from the Earliest Notations to the Sixteenth Century - Richard Taruskin

A history of early written European music, in its social and political contexts.

The Penguin Complete Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle

Victorian detective stories

disabled POV character (limb injury), occasional Indian secondary characters

warning: racism, colonialism

Monthly total: 10 + 2 Yearly total: 42 Queer books: 5 Authors of colour: 2 Books by women: 4 Authors outside the binary: 0 Canadian authors: 0 Classics: 0 Off the TBR shelves: 2 Books hauled: 4 ARCs acquired: 1 ARCs unhauled: 4 DNFs: 1

January February March

[stories-and-chaos]

Tarnished pt 23

[Helluva Boss AU where Blitzø’s childhood theft from Stolas’ palace is discovered and major consequences ensue for everyone involved.]

[Part 23/?? Word Count: 1857]

[CW: Drug abuse, addiction, gaslighting]

—————

Two weeks later, Blitzo sent another letter. It was thinner than the first. Barb gave it the same treatment, ‘RETURN TO SENDER’. The next one was even thinner, probably just one page in the envelope.

After she had that one sent back, he started sending postcards. Mostly they were generic landscape images from across the Rings. But not being in an envelope meant she saw snippets of the text on the blank side. Barb let Fizz know that Blitzo was sending mail, but never the content.

She didn’t mean to read any of them, but checking the address meant seeing what was written. There was a theme of ‘sorry, please talk to me, let me explain, I’m sorry, text, call, so sorry,’ in his scribbled handwriting. Knowing their dad’s account of events, her brother’s repeated requests for forgiveness just infuriated Barb.

She saw there were a few that mentioned her and their mom. Blitzo was asking if Fizz knew where they were. You’d know if you’d stuck around, traitor, she thought bitterly as she sent the postcards to be shredded. 

The frequent reminders of Blitzo’s existence kept her off balance. And Fizzarolli was spending more time in Lust. He kept denying any emotional attachment to Asmodeus but Barb saw the difference in how he talked about the Sin.  His absence left her somewhat at loose ends in her downtime.

The other survivors from their circus had scattered; few wanted to stay in Greed with all the established gangs and corruption. Barb, not wanting to be alone constantly, found other demons that shared her interests. One of those interests being drug use was incidental. 

After seven months, the postcards arrived less frequently. Barb didn’t really notice; she had access to stronger stuff and was getting fucked up on a regular basis. Fizz was paying her enough that she could afford it… for now. But as the next pageant got closer, she started missing more days.

At first it didn’t matter too much. Her friend was off being Ozzie’s boy toy. The PR team was finally filtering the mail somewhat. And just before the pageant, Blitzo sent a card saying, ‘I’ll leave you alone Fizz. You know where to find me. I’m sorry.’ That was one less stressor; Barb celebrated with a weekend long bender.

She managed to be clean for a few days before and after the clown pageant. She was able to function as Fizz’s security the whole time. Once again, he won. Once again, Mammon immediately signed him on with a year long contract.

This year though, the king of Greed had some things to talk about concerning Fizzarolli’s assistant. Whisking him behind closed doors for the rigamarole of the contract was the perfect moment to plant seeds of doubt about Barb in his mind.

“Y’know Fizzy, that assistant o’ yours…I know she’s your friend but she’s been slacking big time,” he said as they signed and initialed pages. “I’d hate for someone from your past to take advantage of you, yah?” Mammon had a look of intense concern as he finished his portion of the contract.

“I-I’ll talk to her, Mammon sir.” Fizz was already worried about Barb. He knew she’d gotten hooked on painkillers after the fire. She’d been sober for years but he could see the signs popping up. And if Mammon noticed, things were getting worse.

“Good boy Fizzy! ‘Cause we’re gonna be real busy again and we don’t need c**ts coasting off your success.”

The day after the pageant saw Fizz in Lust again, working with Ozzie on updating the Fizzies. Asmodeus took him out for lunch again. He’d told Mammon before the contest that he’d need the whole day with the winner for their work, preventing his fellow Sin from interrupting anything.

After lunch, Ozzie sprung an offer on Fizz. “I’d like you to work at my lounge club, Froggie. Get you some experience outside the Greed Ring and away from all those creeps.”

Fizz waved a dismissive hand. “Psh, I’ve always had creeps around, it’s not that big a deal. Besides, Barb’s got my back.”

“Yeeeeeeaaaah, about that,” Asmodeus said slowly.

“Oh not you too Oz! Mammon was just bitching to me last night about her!”

“Hey, I’m just saying…she’s having a bad time lately. I’m not gonna pry, but if even Mam has picked up on it? Your girl needs help.” Ozzie cupped Fizz’s cheek. “Look, I know she’s important to you. You’re basically family right?” Fizz nodded. “So I want to help. And moving you both out of Greed is a good way to start.”

Fizz sighed. “Yeah, she’s never really liked it there anyway. I can’t make her do anything though.”

“You know me babe; I ain’t about forcing anyone. Unless she’s in deep shit, too deep to handle or putting herself in danger? you gotta let her make her choices.” He leaned back in their private booth. “I’m serious about working at my lounge though. You’d make a great M.C. Fizzy-frog.”

Fizz agreed to perform at Ozzie’s, with the frequent scheduling starting in a few weeks. He had prior commitments with Mammon to take care of first. Doing nightly shows at the lounge would mean moving to Lust.

Before that, he wanted to talk with Barb. The first chance he got was almost a week later, after they were done at Mammon’s for the day. Fizz had to steal himself to talk to his friend so he went to her apartment after hyping himself up via a phone call with Asmodeus.

Barb, meanwhile, had taken a hit of her current drug of choice as soon as she got home. It was the first big high she’d had in the past two weeks. When Fizz showed up at her door unannounced, she could feel the drugs hitting her system. Although he looked serious and she was trying to focus on what he said, the chemical filter in her veins meant she really only caught a few words. Kind of like those snippets of Blitzo’s postcards.

“Barb, I know you’ve got a problem. You’ve been using drugs again, I can tell. We need to get you help, but we can’t do it here. Asmodeus offered me a gig, I’ll need to move to Lust. Please, come with me. I can’t stand seeing you destroy yourself. We’ll get away from all this shit in Greed. Get you some fucking help.”

Barb tried to string together what he was saying. What truly stuck with her was he was moving. Leaving for Lust and Asmodeus. Away from her. She growled angrily. “Urrrgh! Fine, go fuck off with your royal sugar daddy! I don’t need you!” She pushed him away from her. Her intoxication meant she didn’t have much control of her strength. Her push knocked him against the wall; if he hadn’t hit it with his prosthetic arm, it would have left bruises.

She stomped to the door and yanked it open. “Get the fuck out Fizz. The other imp looked stricken so she pushed him again. This one sent him into the hallway. Barb slammed the door shut, locked it and  put the chain on. He had a spare key, but even his extendable arms would struggle with the chain. She pressed her back against the door and slid down it as Fizz knocked desperately. He kept saying her name but she didn’t respond. She just curled up, silent and crying.

Eventually, he was gone. Her sense of time was completely distorted. Maybe it had been an hour, maybe just a couple minutes. She just wanted to forget about everything again. Fortunately, past Barb had picked up a baggie full of little friends from her dealer that were very good at helping her forget.

A few days later, she’d come down enough to realize she had to go work. That many pill-shaped friends weren’t cheap. But when she got to Mammon’s main offices, her keycard didn’t work. Barb tried multiple times, flipping the card in different directions but she continued to get error sounds. She was ready to punch the scanner when the door opened smoothly.

The shark demon that stepped out towered over Barb. “What do you want?” No politeness, just blunt demanding attitude.

“I want to get to work. Why isn’t my keycard working?” She waved the offending piece of plastic in front of the shark’s snout.

His concentric ringed eyes focused on the card, reading her name. “Barb Buckzo. Yeah, your position’s been…terminated.” He gave her a leering grin and flicked the card. His claw hit with enough force to send it spinning out of her hand and down the street.

“The fuck d’you mean, ‘terminated’? I’m Fizz’s  assistant and bodyguard!”

“Not no more. You haven’t been here for a week. Mr. Fizzarolii and Lord Mammon don’t need some lazy ass coasting on her buddy’s success.” He straightened up to his full height. The shark crossed his arms and continued to match her glaring look. “So you’re out, shoulda got a termination letter in yer mail.” 

Her jaw dropped. Those assholes! “I wanna talk to Fizz. Right now!” She tried to push past the beefy shark, but he outweighed her and Fizz combined. 

“Mr. Fizzarolli is busy. Lord Mammon is free for the next ten minutes if you wanna talk to him.” Barb growled, a rumbling hiss coming from her chest. “Thought so.” The shark went back inside and the door slid shut behind him.

Barb stood there, chest heaving. She had mostly come down from her high and there was no drugged filter between her and her emotions. After a few minutes of glaring at the locked doors, she started hurling nearby rocks at the building. Her aim was still good from all those years in the circus. But those doors were designed to withstand bullets; a valid concern with all the turf wars likely to pop up in this Ring.

All the rocks in Hell wouldn’t do much to the structure. Barb didn’t care; if anything it made her madder. She kept hurling the same rocks over and over, screaming obscenities all the while. Until she threw one that ricocheted back, hitting her directly on her circus brand and knocking her on her butt.

She sat there, dazed. The pain on her forehead belatedly hit and she rubbed the spot to find ichor welling from the scratch. “Fine. FINE, YOU HEAR ME! YOU CAN GO FUCK YOURSELVES! HAVE FUN BEING A PAMPERED WHORE FIZZ! YOU’RE JUST LIKE THAT TRAITOR BLITZO!” Barb turned away, rubbing her upper arms with both hands as she tried to keep the anger in the forefront. She flipped of the building as she walked home.

Not that the studio apartment would be home much longer. She was behind on rent and her landlord was ready to kick her out. Checking her mail, she found the termination letter; included was her severance check. Not enough to back pay everything. But enough to find somewhere else. Something cheaper and closer to the drug dens she was visiting more often. 

Within two days, she was gone, ghosting everyone in her life.

—————

<<First <Prev Next>

[sleepingfancies]

Prithee, tell me which one of your OCs haunts your mind most today?

AUAUHGHGHGHG i've been sucked back into dragon age hell and i've been thinking about my Rowena Trevelyan all day . major inquisition + trespasser dlc spoilers and an extremely long ramble under the cut im so so sorry beloved mutual </3

she was just a KID like.... Rowena was permitted to go to the conclave as a budding apprentice mage. as an OBSERVER she didn't even get a vote. she was wandering around during a break when she happened upon the ritual . it was like an academic field trip for her, a chance for her to see the politics behind the scene and nothing more. and within hours her mentor and everyone she knew was killed in the blast and she was the sole survivor. and then she became surrounded by people she didn't know and handed responsibility and divinity she never asked for and had no clue how to handle !!!!!!!!!!!!

and this is AFTER she was essentially abandoned by her Trevelyan family for being a mage in the first place. 5 generations of non-mages and her parents thought they were safe for sure and then they had Her. a recessive gene last seen a century ago resurfacing . they threw her in the circle at the first opportunity. she sent letters for the first few years - they never answered. her family became her mentor and her fellow mage children. she learned young that the Maker didn't want her, that her magic was a mistake. her family would've loved her just fine if she hadn't been a mage.

so she's just so ANGRY about it all deep down. everyone she knows is killed and these strangers have the NERVE to call HER - a mage, a mistake, an affront to the Maker - the Herald of Andraste. one cataclysmic event and suddenly everyone thinks she's not only special for her magic, but a gift from the Maker. and how dare they!!! how dare they respect her and beg for her help now after so many years of neglect and lies and abuse!!

the first thing Cassandra does is question whether she believes in the Maker. and what is she supposed to say? "He believes my existence is a mistake, so I believe He exists as a tyrant" is what comes to her mind. but she grew up around templars and learned not to speak her mind around people she couldn't 100% trust. so she holds her tongue and says she isn't sure what to believe anymore. it's not entirely a lie, and it placates Cassandra: the person who could most easily decide she was more of a liability than a blessing.

as time passes in Haven, Solas becomes her new mentor; a surprise to both of them, really. but he knows more about spirits and the Fade than she was ever taught - she doesn't even know how to use the mark on her hand. He teaches her how to close the rifts, how to navigate the Fade in her dreams, how to learn all that spirits have to offer. She looks up to him. between him and Dorian and Vivienne, she has finally found similar company. Dorian never questions her caution about believing in the Maker. Vivienne never judges her for not knowing much about the world outside the circle. Solas is helping her grow and learn.

the other companions help, too. she latches onto Blackwall - he's like the father she never had. Iron Bull and the Chargers take her in and give her social sanctuary. Sera agrees not to call her the Herald, and knows exactly how to make her laugh. Cole helps her process her former mentor's death and her separation from her friends at the wycome circle. Varric won't let her overwork herself, he knows she didn't want any of this. for awhile, things seem okay.

and then Corypheus comes. Haven is destroyed. she's lost in the wilderness with cracked ribs and a broken leg and she's freezing to death. she doesn't even remember how the advisors found her, or where. "we saw our hero fall, and rise again" Mother Giselle says. if people didn't believe Rowena was sent by the Maker before, they do now. she doesn't believe it herself. she hates it. she's angry at them all

then comes Skyhold. a throne, judgment over prisoners, occupying Crestwood, deals with Starkhaven and the Antivan Crows and Kal-Sharok, "Inquisitor," traversing the Fade physically, the Chantry asking after her companions as Divine candidates, all of it. Every decision that should be brokered between entire countries comes down to one barely-in-her-20s apprentice mage who didn't even know what Val Royeaux looked like 6 months ago.

the bubbly attitude she tried to keep up starts to crack. her parents write her a letter asking if she could set aside some of the Inquisition's coin to cover their legal fees after they had a property feud with the Selbach family. she never writes back. "get to the point," she tells Morrigan, something she never would have said before all of this. the judgments come down harsher. the executions get a little too easy to carry out. she closes the rifts more aggressively than before.

and then Corypheus is beaten. the Breach is sealed. for one brief moment, the thought crosses her mind: 'I can finally leave.' she can go back to the wycome circle and hug her old friends, tell them what happened. she can go see the world she never could before. the mark on her hand can stop making people bow to her even when she begs them not to. she did what the Inquisition set out to do. it's over. it's done.

and then they never let her go.

even as her new friends scatter to the wind, dusting their hands off, their moral obligation fulfilled, Rowena sits on the Inquisition throne and feels herself rotting. Solas abandoning her without so much as a goodbye after Corypheus fell stung, but a part of her expected it, too. she caught on quickly that he wasn't the type of person to linger once he felt his role was done. so that was fine. she made peace with that. but the others? Sera, Blackwall, Vivienne, all of them? one by one, they left with an urgency that felt like a dagger to the heart. only Dorian admitted he lingered for the sake of her friendship, but even he was called away eventually.

and then another glimmer of hope: Orlais and Ferelden disagree on the Inquisition's future. for the sake of her advisors, Rowena puts on her old bubbly attitude, claims the Inquisition isn't going anywhere. deep down she rattles the bars and begs Bann Teagan to demand the Inquisition be dissolved. she has one more chance to be free of this. to be someone - though she has no idea WHO anymore - outside of the Inquisitor.

and then the mark flares up. the Qunari have reached the end of their patience with the Inquisition. they dont realize how badly Rowena wants to agree with them. and then the breadcrumbs lead back to Solas. and Solas wants to end the world.

she can do nothing but break down. one more thing she'll be expected to stop. another ambiguous number of years she'll be expected to spend on it. another problem she's not qualified to solve. she's so angry and so sad and so sick of it all, and for the first time in her life she misses the stupid teenager she used to be in wycome whose most pressing issue was figuring out how to frame a templar for her petty thefts.

she doesn't remember having her arm amputated, or her advisors even coming to that decision. being without the mark feels odd, but not unpleasant. as if a nagging splinter has finally been removed from under her skin. Varric promises he'll find someone who can make her a prosthetic. she doesn't care one way or the other. at long last, what made her "special" is finally gone. the world has given her permission to close this chapter of her life for good.

Bann Teagan gets what he wants. Rowena dissolves the Inquisition. finally, at last, she can tell everyone involved to go home. she can figure out who she is. maybe she'll go to Rivain, Varric always said he heard it was lovely there. when the world collapses she'll be hundreds of miles away. maybe she'll be vaporized, maybe slow radiation-like sickness will claim her life, maybe a demon will finally best her. she doesn't really care.

and then her advisors won't let her leave. the Inquisition's dissolution was only a preventative measure, Josephine says. we can operate against Solas without risking his spies infiltrating our ranks, Cullen says. Rowena doesn't have it in her to argue anymore. she doesn't want this. she wants to be anywhere but here. she thought she was free. "okay," she says blankly instead. "that sounds like a good idea."

ten years tick by. Rowena is in her 30s now. she still has no idea what Rivain looks like. Dorian and Vivienne and Blackwall have kept in touch. the others, not so much. she hasn't heard from Cole or Iron Bull at all since they left. she doesn't try to put on that bubbly facade anymore. she's too angry and tired and bitter to bother. no one asks if she's alright anymore. they know she isn't. whatever soul searching she intended to do before won't happen now; this is who she is after all this time. a young woman with a stern brow and stress-induced grey hairs, a prosthetic arm, and no patience for small talk.

she doesn't think about that kid she was before the conclave exploded. that person might as well be a stranger. she can never go back, and there is no future where she isn't the Inquisitor. the only chapter of her life that ever really closed was the one where she thought escape was still possible.

Varric tells her he found someone called "Rook." he thinks they'll be perfect to fight back against Solas. Rowena believes him. she tells him to wish them the best of luck. but she knows she won't be able to stay out of the fray forever. and by now, she doesn't want to. her resentment has festered for a decade. Solas robbed her of her last chance to have a life as Rowena Trevelyan - not as the Inquisitor, not as the Herald, not as anything else. his plans aside, his abandonment of her aside, that robbery is the real betrayal that she could never let go of. and at this point, she never will.

[tears-of-amber]

My letter to my younger self. Yes, that is my name I was called growing up.

I think it’s important to share when you’re healing if you can, just as it is important to share when you are struggling. And you know what? Healing is a struggle, and a never ending journey that is SO worth it every step forward that you take. I had terrible nightmares last night about my dad. And also a general feeling of being abused by myself and people like my dad from my past. You don’t have to forgive anyone but yourself to move forward, fellow survivors. I’ve found I can accept what happened as fact without being ok with it. I can acknowledge what happened without forgiving the evil man that my father was and is to this day. I can move forward simply by picking up the pieces of myself. And challenging beliefs that were engraved in my heart as self destructive behaviors or faulty “coping” mechanisms. If you feel you are so disgusting because of what someone did to you, I have felt this way often. But others actions do not define you. It can hurt you but it IS NOT you. End of story.

-Velvet (Riley) Rose 🌹

[findingtarshish]

💛📿🕷️🖤 Let's get to know Lady Thule a bit more!

💛 Which of your non-romanced companions did your Tav stay closest to after the end of the game? Which companions drifted apart?

Helona stayed close with all the origin characters. Gale is, of course, her beloved husband. Wyll and Karlach are her dear friends that she doesn't see often enough, but through Yurgir, she can get letters to and from them. Astarion was pretty heavily influenced by her (he forsook his roguish ways and swore a paladin's oath at her guidance) so they remain closely in touch, with Astarion regaling her with stories of his heroics, on occasion asking for advice, and frequently teasing her for her quiet life with Gale of all people. She doesn't get many chances to talk to Lae'zel, but they miss each other a great deal. Shadowheart is, of course, very close, and they always spend time together when she's in Waterdeep. Shadowheart also joined her for the Run the year after the Absolute crisis. Even though Shadowheart isn't drow, with Sharrans hunting her, life on the surface is no less dangerous, and between them they had plenty of trouble to get up to. Hel also wanted someone with her, since she and Gale were expecting their first child soon, and she knew she couldn't fight at full capacity for a few more months.

However, she has remained closest with Minthara. They worked together to establish connections for her resistance movement in Waterdeep, and Helona has provided her additional support using the, uh, staggering wealth she collected during her adventures. They make an odd pair, a noble of Qu'ellarz'orl providing her sword and a conwoman of the Braeryn providing her coin. She's also entrusted Minthara with the mission of finding her family and bringing them to the surface.

📿 Are there any specific items that your Tav kept as heirlooms, or were otherwise significant to them for sentimental reasons? Did they give any of them as gifts to their companions?

Yes! The Sussar Greatsword hangs over the mantle in Gale's tower, much to his protestation- he doesn't like the sword because of its antimagic properties, but Hel can't bring herself to give it up. She also gave Phalar Aluve to Minthara, a guiding song to light her path in the Underdark.

🖤 Does your Tav have any regrets about the things they did?

Unfortunately, yes. Helona found herself blinded by her anger with Mystic Carrion, and upon discovering the location of his heart, she destroyed Thrumbo rather than coax the heart out of him. When she searched Carrion's upper floors, she found the notes from him and realized what she'd done. Murdering a fellow survivor of abuse and imprisonment weighs heavily on her conscience, zombie or no.

🕷 How many gods did your Tav mouth off to on their adventures? Who was their most behated god?

Six- Mystra (she constantly badmouthed her during the events of the game, then directly insulted her after the game ended), Vlaakith, Milil, Shar, Bane, and Myrkul. Withers was the only god she was nice to, at least when he wasn't calling her bitchless. Pointedly, with Mystra, she encouraged Gale to give the crown to her and get the orb removed, just so they could tell her to fuck off when she tried to make Gale her chosen.

[wild-houseplant]

Have Warden, Will Travel- Chapter 19

Gosh. With all the OC Kiss Week stuff going on I’ve been like “Zevran who?” But we’re back to our semi-faithful programming UuU They’re FINALLY leaving the Tower now. After attending to a bunch of errands. Hehehe. >:)c

Content warning for physical child abuse (revisiting Zevran’s past again) and a child getting violently taken from their caregiver (also Zev that poor little bastard)

Ao3 here, entire chapter under the cut! Hope you bunch are doing fine and are keeping up with ya fluids!! :D :D

§

The party went from pillar to post for the rest of the day, with the first stop being straight to the library annexe to check on the survivors. It was hard to believe that it was only early afternoon when they came out, and of the same day, no less. Zevran had found it so implausible that he’d had to ask Pharamond out of the corner of his mouth, and even when he’d been advised that it was indeed only an hour or two past lunch, he shook his head. Every now and again, Alistair would shoot Zevran a glare, and Leliana a smirk. Business as usual, then.

The man in the green robes (he was the First Enchanter!) had taken Rhodri into his office shortly after. Rhodri had emerged some ten minutes later with a distinctly glazed look, and shambled over to where Zevran, Alistair, and Leliana were waiting for her.

“You all right?” Alistair asked worriedly. “You look like you’re about to keel over.”

Her eyes stayed fixed on a window behind him. “My mother,” she whispered. “She’s alive. My father found her.”

Her hands pattered against her legs for the first time since this whole dreadful business had started. Weakly, but the motion was unmistakable. Some part of Zevran wanted to cheer.

§

The mages’ request for a funeral was denied by the Knight-Commander. In a small act of rebellion, the remaining adults and teenagers flocked to the Chantry and prayed there, denying orders to bring the Circle into a fit state again. 

Zevran overheard the Greagoir issue an order to the remaining Templars to ‘strongly encourage’ the mages to return to work cleaning up. Half the Templars pretended to see nothing when they walked past the Chantry, and the other half followed the orders to the deliberately unspecified letter. Zevran had caught one Templar, a stout fellow with flaming red hair, distracting the latter of these from entering the Chantry several times before he was called away by the Knight-Commander.

When the mages had been driven out of the Chantry and the door was locked, they sang familiar Andrastian dirges where they worked. The clean, scattered voices bounced down the stone corridors, some singing in harmonic, others descant, often punctuated by heaving sobs. It was one of the most haunting things Zevran had ever heard.

Rhodri had announced to the party that she, at the very least, would not be leaving the Tower until her students had learned a serviceable portion of the Litany of Adralla by heart. Zevran seemed to recall that a ‘serviceable portion’ was a short paragraph or two.

He, Alistair, and Leliana had elected to stay with the Warden, and an enthusiastic remark from Leliana ended up volunteering them to assist the class with the memorisation. Rhodri had insisted that all attendees wash their face and hands at the very least, and change their clothes if possible, before the lesson began. 

This request of the class, he noticed, gave the party enough time to locate an untouched classroom and to set up a small, communal lunch that the fresh-faced class fell onto like wolves once re-assembled. (The party also had a handful of minutes that allowed them to freshen up themselves– even for Rhodri to re-emerge in a clean, black robe. Were children always so slow to do things?) 

The party sat down among the students, most of whom squabbled to sit near the Warden, and Tara and Georgie, who had slipped into the classroom, took some of the children and sat them down with them. The young girl who had shared her cookies with Zevran had caught sight of him as she made for the Warden. She stopped dead in her tracks, marched over to where he sat, and plonked herself down beside him.

Her little hand reached up and clapped him on the back. “I’ll sit with you, Uncle,” she advised benignly. “Is Rhodri your teacher outside, too? Or are you new?”

Zevran chewed his cheek to dissuade his mirth from betraying him. “I am brand-new,” he declared after a moment. “I do hope she’ll go easy on me.”

She nodded. “She’s really nice. But if you act too silly, she’ll give you a look,” the girl hooked a finger into one of her eyebrows and hitched it up. “Like this, see? That’s when you have to stop.”

He hummed with plausible seriousness. “Good to know.”

With everyone seated, the Warden got to her feet.

“Stelliculae? Are we ready? This is important, so you’ll need to pay attention.”

The class (adult party members included), answered that they were. 

“Are y’back for good now, Rhodri?” A boy spoke up from Tara’s lap.

She shook her head. “I’m not, no. There’s… a lot happening outside the Tower. Dangerous creatures are wandering the country, and your uncles and auntie and I are out to stop them.”

The girl beside Zevran gasped. “But Ma and Papa’s farm is out there!” 

Rhodri nodded. “That’s right, Martha. That’s why we’ll have to go again soon. We know how to kill them, see? You’re much safer in the Tower than out there–”

“There were monsters in here, too!” another girl protested. “They could come back!”

A handful of assenters spoke up, quickly forming a high-pitched din.

The Warden held up a hand. “Stelliculae. Stelliculae. Please give me your time.”

The class fell silent again. She smiled and nodded.

“Thank you. Nobody is entirely wrong. There are monsters outside, and there were monsters inside, too. And today I’m going to show you the best way to stop the indoor ones from ever forming.” She straightened up. “Who remembers what we learned about blood magic?”

Several hands shot up. One girl didn’t wait to be chosen, shouting out, “Don’t do it!”

“Absolutely right,” Rhodri nodded. “Remember to wait until you’re called on next time please, stellicula, but Cosima is correct. Why, then, Cosima? Why don’t we do blood magic?”

“It’s dangerous.”

“Right again. What’s so dangerous about blood magic? Who knows?”

The boy in Tara’s lap threw his hand up again, and when chosen, loudly announced, “They steal yr brain an’ a demon eats it! I seen it happen!”

Half the class tittered, the other half vehemently agreed.

“That’s not what happened,” Martha spoke up now. She looked at the boy with the weariness of an overworked tax collector; Zevran was quite sure something inside him everted itself from suppressing the urge to laugh.

“Oh?” Rhodri gave a gesture of invitation. “So what do you say happened, stellicula?”

Martha sat up straight and cleared her throat. “They summoned a demon, is what happened.” She paused, face scrunching into a frown before quickly adding, “and then the demon ate his brain! And without his brain, he turned into an abomination.”

That answer won far more concession than the boy’s had. How Rhodri was keeping a straight face during all this was a mystery.

It took the Warden several tries to get everyone on the right track regarding the particulars of blood magic, mind control, and demonic possession (especially between several enthusiastic chains of jokes about brains and the lack thereof), but they got there in the end. When she was satisfied, she produced the Litany from her pocket.

“And this is what keeps them at bay.” She opened the scroll and held her fingers an inch apart. “We need to memorise about this much of the Litany today, and I want you to try and memorise even more in your free time, yes? We’ll make a game of it.”

The class nodded and shuffled a little closer to her.

  Zevran had been called a clever boy enough times to know it was true. None of the other children had taught themselves to read. They called the clavícula the ‘shoulder bone’, as though there was only the one bone in that area, and books, they had decided, were boring, even though they’d never touched one. It was lonely.

In the backmost part of the whorehouse yard, where an orange tree dropped fruit that the bats got to first, there was a gap in the terra cotta fence, just big enough for a curious child to peer through. Zevran rarely ventured out into the rest of the Alienage; he and the other whorehouse children weren’t allowed outside unsupervised, and there was rarely leisure time permitting an accompanied excursion.

The crack in the fence looked out onto the main road through the Alienage, and on the other side of the road was a room with a handful of children, some older than him, some younger. They sat in a circle, with books in their lap and an adult walking around in the middle. A school, Cristofania had called it, not for whorehouse boys and girls. When Zevran had asked why, she changed the topic.

In the quieter moments of the day, Zevran liked to creep out and, partially under the guise of raking leaves or picking up the bat-ravaged remains of the fallen oranges, steal glimpses through the fence. The children had different coloured books depending on their ages; three different colours, at least. Some of the children grew into a different colour; others stayed the same. 

Today, a smaller, dark-haired girl had graduated to a red book, and was reading from the first page in front of everyone. She looked to be his age; the envy made Zevran’s chest ache.

“Zevran.”

He froze. A hand went onto his shoulder and turned him around. Cristofania was watching him with a raised eyebrow.

“I was raking the leaves,” he said quickly, gesturing at the neat little pile by his feet. “And collecting the peels.”

She looked at the leaves, then back at him. “And you were looking at the school again.”

Zevran stayed silent, curling into himself despite his efforts to keep his body straight.

Something between Cristofania’s brows softened. She gestured at the leaves.

“You’ve been a good boy today,” she said briskly. “Come inside, amorcito. Renata has a little time now. Going to take the charcoal and draw the back muscles on Amador, hmm?”

A surge of excitement put some posture back into him. “I can watch?” he breathed.

“Mmm, and this time you can ask two questions,” she held up two fingers, “once she’s done. Come now, inside. Don’t keep her waiting.”

Zevran dragged Cristofania back indoors by the hand. She chuckled from behind him and squeezed his hand tightly; the envy fell away.

 Being in a classroom was an odd experience. Zevran half-expected Enchanter Rhodri to wave him out, distract him with orders to kill or clean armour, or simply tell him to his face that his place was not among academic learners.

Nothing happened. In preparation for a promised memory game, Rhodri had started guiding the class through the first lines she had written on the chalkboard, clapping to the rhythm of a song everyone appeared to know except him. The children were clapping and repeating her, the teenagers were participating… even Alistair and Leliana were joining in as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

That meant, then, that Zevran was the odd one out, and did not belong here. A pervasive, heavy cold settled in his limbs, under his eyes, pulled his chin down toward his chest like lead. 

And then a nudge to the elbow scattered it. Zevran raised an eyebrow and looked at the source; Martha was watching him expectantly. 

She leaned toward him. “You need to join in, Uncle,” she whispered solemnly, “or you’ll never learn it. Are you shy?”

Him? Shy?

He chewed his cheek, praying the amusement wasn’t bleeding through, and shook his head.

“No-one’s going to laugh at you,” she assured him. “Rhodri doesn’t stand for that. Just try.”

She wouldn’t stop looking at him until Zevran, at a loss to do anything else, joined in the clapping and mumbled made-up lyrics as he went. That appeared to satisfy the girl; she turned back to the board.

The game started; everyone went in a circle, repeating one word each, all the way down to the end of the first paragraph. The Warden was generous with praise for success. Mistakes were coaxed into the correct answer, which was then lauded like they had been correct all along. The second paragraph was memorised, the game went again, and the bag of cookies was passed around afterward until it was empty. 

Rhodri’s triumphant smile didn’t quite meet her eyes the entire time. She clapped her hands once.

“Marvellous. I want you to repeat it in the morning over breakfast, and at night before you go to sleep. Leave this up on the board until you’ve written it down, yes?”

“We will,” they echoed.

Rhodri nodded once. “Good. Well, I think it’s about time we stretched our legs, sic? Let’s go to the stockroom, then, pay a visit to Owain and Pharamond.”

Zevran crawled with shame as the suggestion evoked what appeared to be genuine, pleased anticipation in the students. Even the teenagers, Tara and Georgie, were smiling as they climbed to their feet. In the hopes of dispelling guilt over the enthusiasm he couldn’t summon, he glanced over at Alistair and Leliana. Their smiles had a sad, strained tinge to them; he decided to forgive himself.

There had been a short period as Rhodri ducked out of the classroom– to ensure, Zevran presumed, that the way to the stockroom wasn’t still strewn with corpses. The sound of doors closing grew louder until the white-faced Warden was back in the classroom, beckoning everyone out.

In front of the stockroom, Owain stepped out and watched the group blankly. 

Zevran’s stomach dropped as soon as the empty voice addressed them.

“Welcome to the Circle’s stockroom of magical items. My name is Owain. How may I assist you?”

The Warden’s smile was genuine. “Owain, hello. We were learning about using the Litany of Adralla today.” She produced the scroll from her pocket and held it out to him.

“We memorised two paragraphs!” A copper-haired girl announced proudly.

Owain took this declaration, as well as the Litany itself, with a nod. “The Litany will prevent mind control related to blood magic,” he said simply.

The class issued various agreements and fell silent again.

“We’re hoping,” Rhodri pressed on, “to learn where to access the Litany in case of an emergency, like we’ve had here. Could we come in, please, a few at a time, and you can show us where it’s normally kept?”

“Yes. The stockroom should be sufficiently clean to enter,” Owain said. “Pharamond and I have removed all of the broken glass now.” He paused and looked over the class. “Please come in four at a time.”

Rhodri and three children accompanied him inside without hesitation. Zevran could hear them asking questions about how to reach, what the stick beside it was, why that bottle was green, and everything was answered.

They emerged; another group off three and the teacher went in with the same results, then another, and then several more. 

Martha squeezed Zevran’s hand as Rhodri came out and beckoned to her.

“Come on, Uncle.” She tugged on his arm. “It’s our turn.”

Alistair and Leliana hadn’t gone in; wasn’t this for the children’s reference?

Martha, as if sensing his hesitation, watched him patiently. “You don’t have to be afraid of the Tranquil mages,” she advised. “They just don’t feel things. You won’t catch it.”

Mortified, Zevran followed her in, and the girl smiled. “See? It’s not so bad. And Owain’s really nice. He’s just…” she paused, scrunching her face thoughtfully. “... Calm, that’s all.”

“Just calm,” he echoed under his breath. 

When everyone, including Alistair and Leliana had had a turn seeing the Litany, they thanked the stockroom mages and returned to the classroom. Outside in the corridor, Wynne stood waiting with a largish bag in tow.

Rhodri frowned. Before she could get a word out, Wynne declared that she would be coming with the group. 

Alistair’s brows shot up. “You want to… ah–?” 

“One moment, please,” Rhodri requested with an affectionate squeeze to his shoulder. She directed the children into the classroom with the announcement that there would be free time now (“and no dares on who can eat the most window spiders, if you please!” she called after them).

Wynne looked around behind the Warden. “Where are your things, Rhodri? Haven’t you taken anything from your room yet?”

Rhodri blinked. “My things? Well, no, we’ve been with the children all afternoon,” she gestured in the direction of the classroom. “They’ve learned the first two paragraphs of the Litany in case of a repeat even. Why, is there any need to rush?”

“We would do better not to linger,” she urged. “The children will grow used to you again very quickly, and the longer you spend with them, the bigger the disruption will be when you finally go.”

The Warden’s eyes widened. “We hadn’t planned on staying weeks, Wynne,” she murmured imploringly. “One night, perhaps, to help them settle, and maybe leave after lunch tomorrow.”

Wynne shook her head. “Today would be best. Now, even.” The Senior Enchanter was unmoved by Rhodri’s protesting stutter. She folded her arms and glanced over at the rest of the party.

Leliana took the hint immediately. With a careful touch to Alistair and Zevran’s shoulders, she nodded at the classroom. “Come, we should give them a moment. We can play a game with the children, no?”

Rhodri frowned. “You don’t have to leave. We’re just talking–”

“I think Wynne would like to speak to you alone,” Leliana soothed. She offered a small, kind smile and squeezed the Warden’s arm. “We will not be far away. Come and get us when you are finished, hmm?”

Rhodri tensed, one hand fisting her robes and kneading them between her fingers. She rocked forward on her feet until she stood on her toes, rising and dropping until a pointed look from the Senior Enchanter made her fall still. 

Zevran looked away from Wynne before the prickle in his guts could flash to a boil, opting to shoot a smile at the now pink-cheeked Warden.

“Or perhaps one of us could stay,” he offered lightly, “if you would rather have company, my Grey Warden.” Zevran winked. “I happen to be an excellent addition to any conversation.”

The Warden stiffened, her face almost the colour of wine now. Her head tipped down until her chin was almost on her chest before she straightened up again.

“No,” she said firmly. “Ah. That is, no thank you, Zev. I should, ah… no, it’s all right.” 

“No?” He nodded obligingly. “As you like. We will await your call, then.”

§

In the classroom, Alistair and Leliana had rounded up all willing children to play something Alistair called ‘Silly Messages,’ which sounded very much like a game he had made up on the spot. In all fairness to the Templar, however, it had been quite a success. The group sat in a circle (naturally) and Alistair whispered a message to whoever sat on his right. The message was passed on in a whisper, going around the circle until it had come back to him, and was invariably different (and sometimes nonsensical) when compared to the original. 

The game had been a good idea, for the most part. It required quite some concentration, and the children were happy enough to whisper among themselves while they awaited their turn. Magesong still echoed vaguely, even from behind the closed door, and despite electing to sit as near as he could to the door to listen for any concerning noises from the Warden, Zevran caught nothing until the end of their fifth round.

The message Zevran had just passed on, so far as he knew, was, “I tripped on a nug and ate open cheese,” and the Warden’s insistent, damn-near pleading voice briefly drowned out the whispers.

“Of course I knew they would die, Wynne. What hope did they have?”

Wynne’s voice grew audible and firm, “Then you ought to have more understanding for whoever will be left handling the aftermath of your coddling when you depart today. Again. ”

“An absence of neglect is not coddling!”

“If you are to be a leader, Enchanter Amell, you must learn to control yourself. Your impulsive spellcasting and urge to parent anything younger than you are plentiful evidence of that.”

Alistair cleared his throat and, with a little more volume than usual, announced that the original message was, “I slipped on the rug and hit both my knees,” which to Zevran sounded like an odd sentence to begin with. Did people play this game sober?

The children, most of whom had paused to listen to the discussion outside, appeared not to have heard Alistair, and quickly snapped-to as the door opened. 

Rhodri strode in with her shoulders back and Wynne following closely behind. She regarded the students with a smile first, and then the party.

“More free time, stelliculae,” she announced evenly. “We have an errand to run and will be back in a little while. Please stay in here and amuse yourselves while the others are cleaning, sic? There are adults outside you can call for if you need anything.” She turned to the party. “Uncles, Auntie, if you’d come with me, please.”

§

“What’s going on, Rhod?” Alistair asked as the party, now including Wynne, swept down the corridor.

“We have one more errand to do,” Rhodri replied, “and then while that’s happening, I’ll take the last of my things and we will–” she gulped– “say our goodbyes.”

She led the party down to the Great Doors (which were now much better lit, and not strewn with bits of mage), where Greagoir stood issuing orders to anyone within talking distance. His lip curled as his gaze snapped onto the approaching Warden.

Rhodri pulled up in front of him with her shoulders back and, though the difference in height was minimal, angled her head so that she gave the impression of looking down on him.

“I suppose you’ve come for those troops I promised you,” Greagoir said, raising an eyebrow. “Well–”

“As a matter of fact,” Rhodri cut him off, “I haven’t.”

His other eyebrow went up. “Oh?”

“I already have the First Enchanter’s assurance that the Circle is ready and willing to assist, so I thought I’d be generous and decline your offer of an entire consignment.”

The Knight-Commander inclined his head lightly. “Well, that is very generous of you, Warden–”

“I’ll be recruiting you instead.”

A series of admonishments issued from Wynne and Alistair (and Greagoir, of course, whose face was now contorting into all manner of enraged expressions). Even the Templars standing within earshot were mumbling uncomfortably.

Rhodri held up a hand to silence them. “You are precisely what the Grey Wardens are looking for, Greagoir. Devoted to a cause, no matter the cost. Protecting the innocent folk of Ferelden whom you’re willing to lay your life down for.” She tilted her chin a little further up, a blank, disdaining look sitting on her face like wax. “I couldn’t give you a higher honour.”

Greagoir’s nose wrinkled in a snarl. “You cannot just whisk away a Knight-Commander to serve the Wardens on a whim, Amell!”

“Oh, I absolutely can,” she shrugged. “And in case you think you can evade the call, let me make myself perfectly clear.

“Knight-Commander Greagoir,” she announced, her voice clear as a bell, “as the senior Magewarden of Ferelden, I hereby conscript you into the Grey Warden fold, effective immediately. Should you refuse conscription, I will have no choice but to execute you.”

Greagoir was hissing something about the impossibility of this; Rhodri spoke over him without a single hitch. 

“As of this moment, you are relieved of your Templar title and duties, and owing to the political neutrality of the organisaton, you are forbidden from bearing or using any and all items bearing Chantry insignia. You have exactly fifteen minutes to remove all of your Templar armour and be back here with all possessions and travelling items you intend to take with you–”

“Fifteen?” Greagoir protested. “This is a full suit, Amell, and the travelling supplies are in the basement!”

“Then you had best ask someone to assist you,” Rhodri replied coldly. “Fifteen minutes. Get to it.”

The (now erstwhile) Knight-Commander appeared to be stifling something- what, precisely, Zevran couldn’t tell, but the effort was giving life to a vein in his temple that was growing more prominent by the moment. With a sniff, he signalled to one of the other Templars, who hastily followed him out of the hall.

The Warden approached the redheaded Templar who had tried to keep his coworkers from entering the Chantry, who stood a little way off. He had been quiet throughout Greagoir’s conscription and now watched Rhodri with a calm, curious expression.

Rhodri inclined her head to him. “My apologies, Knight-Commander Bradley, for the suddenness of your promotion,” she said politely. “I hope you understand that it wasn’t my intention to add to your stress.”

The fellow smiled and shook his head. “We’re expected to step up at a moment’s notice, Warden,” he said good-naturedly, if a little wearily. “I’d best excuse myself, though. Not sure if the Kn— Greagoir, that is, finished calling off the Annulment, and that won’t keep.”

The Warden held up her hands. “Please, don’t let me hold you up. Ah– one thing, though, Knight-Commander.”

“Mm?”

“The younger students have been learning the Litany of Adralla and have a serviceable portion of it memorised now. I expect this won’t happen again any time soon. I have good faith that they will not want to see a repeat of today.”

A weak smile came to the new Knight-Commander. He nodded once, and left.

When the Warden had excused herself and returned with another, smaller bag of possessions, the party was invited to say goodbye to the students. Zevran had almost declined the offer, but the thought of his would-be niece taking offence motivated him to choose otherwise. 

With the way the younger children (the older two were nowhere to be seen) carried on during said goodbyes, though, he almost wished he’d followed through and refused. 

Zevran had managed to follow Cristofania’s orders to keep calm as she strapped his mother’s gloves to his sides and then put a coat on him. He sniffled a little when his shoes went on, but a sharp look from her silenced him. When she slipped her battered wooden comb into his small bag, the words fell out before he could stop them.

“I don’t want to–”  

“No.”

She took him by his hand and led him down to the front room, where a woman with a deep frown was sitting and nursing a glass of wine. Zevran didn’t recognise her; the brothel had enough women visitors, but none with tattoos on their face. 

Her eyes snapped onto him, and he froze.

“No–”

“Zevran,” Cristofania’s voice hardened. “Go to her.”

Zevran shook his head and turned away, burying his face in Cristofania’s skirts. He wrapped his arms as far around her legs as they could go. 

She grabbed his wrists and pulled them off, dropping a brief kiss to his crown. “Zevran…” she murmured warningly.

“No-no-no-no-no,” his voice raised to a shriek. “Tell her no–” 

A sharp smack to the back of his legs forced a sob out of him, and he snapped her skirts up in his fists. “I’ll be good, no please–”

There was a scramble. Footsteps from behind, another stinging slap to the legs, a hand wrenching material out from the grip of his curled fingers; Zevran screamed.

A hand shot under his mouth, pressing a cloth that smelled of alcohol into his nose, and in two breaths, everything went black.

 Zevran stood as close as he could to the door without looking impolite, letting his gaze wander between bookshelves as the crying started up. The students were protesting and wailing and wailing and protesting, and Zevran heaved a sigh for all the good it did them. 

“Uncle.” 

Zevran steeled himself and looked down at only half-unexpected visitor, and she looked back up at him. 

He smiled. “Ah, Martha! You will keep practicing the Litany each night, yes?”

Her lip wobbled a little; she nodded. “D’you really hafta go, though?”

“I do,” he nodded back. “There are all manner of nasty things out there, and we must keep your Ma and Papa safe on the farm, no?”

“C’n I come?”

“Not this time, no.” He shook his head. “You must work hard here first, make good, strong spells–”

Zevran was cut off as the girl threw her arms around him, all but launching her head into his midriff as she did. His astonishment rendered him useless until a beat passed and he was able to summon a friendly laugh and give her a small squeeze back.

He took her by the shoulders and held her out in front of him, shooting her what he hoped was an encouraging smile.��

“You will work hard here, yes? And if I see your Ma and Papa, I will tell them how good you have been.”

She sniffled and nodded. “You won’t forget me?”

Zevran chuckled. “Forget you? Ah, you are toying with me, Martha! You must be famous by now. Everyone knows you!”

Martha wiped under her eyes. “A little bit famous, yeah.”

“There, see? What a question.” In the corner of his eye, Rhodri was beckoning him to follow her (and the league of children still attached to her robes). He sighed. “And now I must go, but it has been very good to see you. Thank you for taking good care of me.”

Zevran found himself wishing he had some small thing to leave with the girl as her eyes filled with water. What a thing it was to travel light. He compromised and pat her head, and left it at that.

Rhodri was the last out of the classroom (she had fallen prey several times over to the ‘one more hug’ trick), and stood in the hallway with a clenched jaw and unsteady breaths. She attempted to address the party several times but dissolved into a coughing fit whenever she began to speak. By the fourth time, she was stable enough to get a few sentences out.

“We should go,” she said in a strangled voice. “S’been close to fifteen minutes.”

Zevran, Alistair, and Leliana shared a glance (Alistair’s was, of course, another scowl when his eyes met Zevran’s) and nodded.

Halfway to the front hall, the party was stopped by the two older students.

“We just saw Greagoir walking around without armour,” Tara said, her eyes like saucers. “Is he–?”

Rhodri nodded. “You’ll be under the watchful eye of Knight-Commander Bradley now.”

Georgie laughed breathlessly, and gave her a small shove. “You did it, Rhodri. You really did it!”

“I told you I would. Have I ever lied to you?”

They shook their heads.

“It won’t be perfect, I know,” Rhodri said after a moment. “Better than it ever has been, though, I think.” She nodded in the direction of the classroom. “Keep an eye on the small ones, yes? For me?”

The request was met with nods and ‘of courses’ said with all the certainty in the world. It seemed to be enough. 

“We’re going now–”

“Now?” the boy echoed.

Rhodri nodded once. 

At the first hint of emotion in either of the teenagers, Zevran preoccupied himself with adjusting and re-adjusting the buckle on his poisons belt. It would have to be replaced soon; after a good decade of service it was falling to pieces, and it wouldn’t do to have twelve vials of lethal materials crashing around his feet with no notice.

The students left them, eventually, for the classroom, and Rhodri guided them (now with Greagoir in tow) outside and into the boat. The sun was hanging onto the horizon by the skin of its teeth, and Carroll rowed them through the scarlet water without a word.

Wynne sat at the front of the boat, facing away from the party, and Greagoir sat behind her. In the wider middle, Zevran sat beside Rhodri, and behind them, Alistair and Leliana sat with their arms around each other. Alistair had borrowed Rhodri’s spare bag of clothes to give Leliana an arm rest. The late afternoon chill had set in, almost crisp enough to be instantly uncomfortable; Zevran didn’t dare ask Alistair for one of the robes. He huffed a small, rueful sigh and forced himself into a fitful sleep.

“Zev.” A hand carefully nudged his shoulder before his eyes could finish opening. “... Zev?”

Zevran’s eyes flickered open. Whether or not he had actually slept was debatable, but the sky was dark, and in the weak moonlight, Rhodri was watching him carefully. She slid a little closer to him.

“You’re shivering.” She held a hand out. “May I use a little magic to warm you up?”

After today’s display of magical exhaustion, it was hard to know if the Warden was terribly forgetful, or simply had a death wish. Could she even make her fingers glow without keeling over?

Zevran had no interest in finding out. He sat up and gave her a roguish grin. 

“Do not trouble yourself, my Grey Warden,” he shook his head gently. “No need for spellcasting on Zevran, no ser!”

Rhodri’s eyes widened. Her hand darted back, and she slid away again. “Of course,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry, of course I understand… ah…” Her fingers wrung themselves until she glanced at Wynne, and fell still again.

“Ah,” she said after a moment. “You can’t just freeze. Here…” 

Zevran’s eyes widened as Rhodri undid the fasteners on her robe and pulled it off.

“Ah, my Warden,” he began. “No need to–”

“It’s– it’s all right.” She held out the robe to him; his eyes darted down to her arms, bunched sleeves and bare skin and bafflingly thick muscles sitting like a caricature over thin bones. Zevran swallowed and lifted his gaze. 

“The robe, it’s– it isn’t enchanted,” she pressed, her cheeks going scarlet. “No magic, I promise, but you’ll be warm in it. And I don’t get cold in weather like this.”

He chuckled weakly. “Ah, but your modesty laws. You are not uncomfortable?”

Rhodri shook her head. “It’s– don’t worry, I’m fully clothed, so it’s–it’s not so bad. I can roll down my sleeves and– and–” she hurriedly jostled her sleeves down and held out the robe to him. “It’s not for you to worry about anyway,” she shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Please, just take it. I–I–I,” she paused and took a breath, watching him pleadingly. “I can’t fix it any other way, and–and you need to stay warm. Please let me help you.”

Zevran took the robe before the urge to hurl himself into the winy water overtook him completely. Rhodri looked relieved that he had, and with the sudden warmth creeping back into his skin, Zevran at least physically felt relieved. 

He summoned enough brains to mumble his thanks to her. A tentative smile crept into the corners of her mouth. Her hand left her lap and moved toward his shoulder, only to be ripped back when she seemed aware it had moved. 

She nodded quickly, apologetically. “Always, Zev.” 

Zevran caught the breathlessness in his laugh and didn’t like it. He yawned and with a nod, curled into himself, pretending to be asleep until he managed to pull it off properly.

[disco-cola]

I just found an article from August 2014 where a German holocaust survivor who migrated to the USA in 1954 named Edith Bell was interviewed (so just at the time of operation protective edge where gaza was attacked and over 2000+ Palestinians, among them 526 children, were killed within 2 months) and she said then, 10 fucking years ago already, that Israel is committing genocide, that she and a group of fellow holocaust survivors wrote an open letter to the New York Times straight up calling it a genocide publicly too, that Israel is exploiting the pain of survivors like her to abuse power and kill innocent people, that she doesn’t want her taxes to go fund this, that AIPAC does not represent jewish American citizens like her and that the USA and Israel alike need to be held accountable for their occupation and slaughter. At the time, Angela Merkel was still the chancellor of Germany and she also kept repeating Israel’s „right to defend itself“ during operation protective edge, and since Edith Bell was originally from Germany, they asked her about her feelings towards that stance as well and she emphasized that Palestinians in Gaza do not have an Army or Air Force or Navy or any types of weapons that could be compared to what Israel is using, so it cannot be self defense. She criticized that Gazans got displaced from their houses into tents and were left without medical aid, electricity, food and water. That it’s been a decade-long siege. She used to live in Israel after World War 2 but left. She compared the way she and her family were treated in Nazi Germany to Israel’s treatment of Palestinians. This was 10 years ago. It’s the EXACT SAME AS TODAY. Never EVER!!! let anybody tell you this started on October fucking 7

[gamingrolli]

Super mega worm wiki

SUPER MEGA WORM WIKI HOW TO

Guru denied this since he would have Dende, the third strongest of their race, Nail noting that there were only three of them left. The Ginyu Force dominated Gohan, Krillin and Vegeta, Guru sensing this and calling on Nail to assist them, though the latter mentioned in doing so he would leave him unguarded. Finally, once Porunga was summoned, Guru sensed it and allowed himself to die just before the final wish was able to be granted, believing it would be a "real dick move". Once Nail was gone, Guru admitted that he had no chance, though he might have done had Guru trained him in the "new ways". He refused to give the power-up to Nail, who he later gives a motivational speech to in order to encourage him to fight a losing battle against Freeza. Krillin's "full potential" ultimately amounted to very little, while Gohan's was given following a speech laden with pedophilic undertones, and Dende's was given completely by surprise. This is best demonstrated when he gives Krillin, Gohan, and Dende power boosts. Guru seems to enjoy messing around with his subjects and visitors. He is also very knowledgeable with human popular culture and gets upset when his fellow Namekians don't understand the references. When told that the elder Namekian of Earth was named Kami (which is Japanese for "God"), Guru immediately declared that Kami was a pretentious prick and dubbed himself as "Super Kami Guru" - though he allows Nail to call him Guru for short. Guru sent him a letter advising him to visit Earth, since they probably have Dragon Balls there, whilst also noting that their defenses aren't up to par, subtly hinting that Slug ought to conquer them. He likes to keep in touch with his brother and good half, Lord Slug, whom he exiled from Namek. Furthermore, Guru is hinted at having caused numerous atrocities, such as when he led the Namekians through the peril of a great drought and the genocide of the albino Namekians. He also tends to abuse the powers of the Dragon Balls for his own gain, such as wishing for a plasma screen television or a postal service. His long-suffering bodyguard Nail is the unfortunate main target for much of this unpleasantness, as he is regularly made to do stupid and pointless tasks such as fighting birds or cleaning Guru's jowls. He is nowhere as loving or caring as his original counterpart, and most of his children do not love him either because of his unpleasant attitude. He is a surly, vain, greedy, racist, misanthropic and domineering old man who constantly abuses his power. Guru is portrayed as the opposite of his original counterpart. He is well-loved by his own people, and as he died again for good, all were greatly saddened by his passing. Guru is considered to be very wise, and has a kind and caring personality, to the point of dying from the sadness of losing his children. He passes his title of Grand Elder and ownership of the Dragon Balls on to the Namekian Moori, before peacefully passing away. He eventually dies from a broken heart after Freeza kills the rest of the Namekians, but is revived by the Earth Dragon Balls. He helps out the Z-fighters in their battle against Freeza and his men by unlocking their hidden fighting power. By the time Freeza and the Z-fighters arrive on Namek, Guru is very old and near death. He single handedly repopulated the planet through the Namekian ability to asexually reproduce through eggs.

SUPER MEGA WORM WIKI HOW TO

Level one is the introductory level, it shows the player the basic controls and how to play.Guru (called simply "Grand Elder" in the original Japanese version) is the only survivor of a cataclysmic event in Planet Namek's past. They believed they had destroyed evil itself and had no more need for their gods of stone, or so they thought. You can help by adding missing info.Ī thousand years ago the warriors of the stone tribe fought against an ancient and deadly creature and defeated it.

Hand button - toggle tilt controlling controls on.

Move finger on touch screen - move worm.

Finger button - toggle touch screen controlling controls on.

[starrbar]

You know what? I'm tired of wearing the "pro-fiction" label like a Scarlet Letter, as if I'M the freak of society that needs to warn people of my existence, and not the people who relentlessly hunt down random artists for lines on paper and constantly lie about what they're really arguing about because they KNOW they're wrong. Respecting people's sexualities should be the norm. I would have thought a bunch of young queer people would fucking know that.

From now on, I'm not dignifying this "shipping discourse" with its watered down jargon. There's no "antis" or "proshippers" or whatever the fuck. If you're a BULLY who takes their hatred for the injustices of the world out on small marginalized creators, get the fuck away from me.

YOU'RE the one who's ruining fandom spaces and making innocent people feel unsafe. YOU'RE the one with a screw loose. YOU'RE the one who's a danger to kids. Go take some time to figure out why you think it's righteous and justified to tell people to kill themselves, EVER; to call entire clusters of queer people pedophiles and groomers; to echo the exact rhetoric of fundamentalist Christians and fear-mongering bigots in everything you say.

"Antishippers" are just the newest rebranding of the "Violent videogames will turn kids into mass murderers" and "Harry Potter / D&D will lead to devil worship and demon possession" crowds. You're the same. You've just somehow managed to convince yourself that you're different because you package your horrible behavior in leftist wrapping.

But you're just bullies, and I want nothing to do with you, and it's time people realized that they don't want anything to do with you either. Wake the fuck up and realize who you're really fighting for. Because it's not marginalized people, it's not abuse survivors, and it's certainly not children. Fuck off.

I'm not "pro-fiction." I'm a normal fucking person with a job, a loving family and husband, the best dog ever, and a bunch of stories to create. You can either be a fellow regular person back at me or you can eat my dust.

[tiredcath]

Zukka Fic Recs

after atla came back into pop culture i found myself falling back in love with zukka which resulted in me reading (almost) every zukka fic on ao3 and here are my favorites

Transference by The_Quatermasters (146k)

In a modern AU, Zuko has to deal with settling in a new school after expulsion, dealing with an angry ex and an abusive father. Maybe his new found friendships and growing closeness with Sokka will help him make it through. 

Borderlines by The_Quatermasters (73k)

Three years after the war, the work still isn't quite done and the Gaang is scattered across the continents in their efforts to help the world recover. When Aang and Katara pay visit to the Fire Nation where Zuko is Fire Lord and Sokka acts as Ambassador for the Water Tribe, sparks fly between the siblings over Sokka's life choices.

Ashes Inside When You Finish Your Song by Muncaster (47k)

Sokka writes lyrics for his sister’s band. Zuko plays piano and is unnecessarily nice. Fellas, is it gay to write love songs about your friend and his golden eyes?

(AKA, a modern band AU featuring The Gaang, crappy software equipment, homoerotic lyrics, and the realization that maybe, if you think about a guy every night before you sleep, you just might be in love with him.)

sirens & sleepless nights by Satirrian (54k)

Life can be pretty hard living in a city under a totalitarian regime. Between adhering to the ridiculous curfew, keeping himself from being gunned down by a passing patrolman, and paying his unnecessary tolls to the state for, say, breathing, Sokka has his hands full just getting to work. Add aiding a resistance group on top of that, and Sokka should really be getting paid for this.

Then, one night, Sokka finds an injured patrolman collapsed in the street, who tells him with blood on his lips, “If the patrol finds me, I’m dead.”

 Real Slow by surveycorpsjean (21k)

“I see.” Zuko closes the scroll. “Is the Water Tribe sending a replacement?”

“Uh yeah,” Sokka gestures to himself dramatically. “You’re looking at him.”

 First by HoneyBadgerMole (20k)

Zuko has been nurturing a crush on the jock in his AP Psych class but he has been too scared to talk to him until they get paired up for a project.

the benefits of getting a flat tire by LesbeanLatte (64k)

Zuko makes an impromptu decision to run away from home after a disturbing conversation with Azula. Unfortunately, some plans are better when they're actually, well, planned. Zuko isn't counting on getting a flat tire almost as soon as he's far enough away from the city to really be in the middle of nowhere.

Sokka is immediately taken with the stranger he and his friends find stranded on the side of the road during an afternoon joy ride. However, he has no idea what he's getting involved with and a kind attempt to help a fellow teen in need turns into a massive coverup for a missing person who just so happens to be the son of the mayor of Ba Sing Se.

Azula was just trying to help her big brother - in her own way - by telling him things she thought he deserved to know. Now the situation has gotten wildly out of control. Did she enjoy seeing Zuko upset and afraid? Of course. Had she intended to endanger his life? Not necessarily, but of course, her idiot brother overreacted to everything and that's what happened and now she doesn't know how to stop the chain of events she's indirectly put in place like dominoes.

Operation Leverage by snowandfire (50k)

Sokka's instincts are onto something great. Zuko just wants to serve tea and brood in peace. Ironically, Toph is the only one who can see what's really going on.

 The Stingray by Smediterranea (24k)

“You’re not carrying me.”

“I don’t mind,” the lifeguard says easily.

“I can just hop over.”

“On sand?”

Zuko will never admit it, but being carried feels pretty nice. The lifeguard sets him down and eyes him warily.

“Are you really all by yourself?” he asks in a worried tone. “No friends in town you can call to check on you?”

“No,” Zuko confirms. Tears are forming again with alarming speed; his foot throbs painfully with every passing second.

“What kind of burrito do you want?”

“You don’t have to —“ Zuko repeats.

“I’m getting al pastor. You like al pastor?”

 AU: Zuko falls for Sokka, the super hot lifeguard who helps him after an unfortunate encounter with a stingray.

 it's the illusion of separation by argentoswan (110k)

Sokka takes a job washing dishes at the new tea shop in town. It's a great gig, until he finds out his only coworker is his old high school bully. Sokka really should quit, but he also really needs to afford rent.

Also, Zuko is kind of hot now.

 People like to think war means something by trying_to_spell_both_our_names_at_once (21k)

Sokka was the first to leave.

Somehow that hurt the most. . . . Not long after Zuko becomes Firelord, forces gather in the South and next thing he knows he's thrown into a civil war with almost no one by his side. Maybe healing is longer and more complicated than it needs to be, but with the right people by your side it is always possible.

 a way that will destroy you by anothermistakemade (14k)

In the wake of Ozai's death, Zuko begins to fall apart. Sokka will do everything in his power to make sure that doesn't happen.

-

or, zuko might be losing his mind, but he also might just be really sad & traumatized

 Those Who Favor Fire by CSHfic, VSfic (30k)

After a failed attempt on his life, Sokka fakes his death, dons a disguise, and infiltrates the would-be assassin's ranks in an attempt to bring them down from the inside.

Zuko learns of his husband's tragic death, mourns, and vows revenge.

 Words Mean More at Night by DaisytheDoodleDog (28k)

Even ten years after the end of the war, rebellions rise and risk the balance of the nations. Sokka was willing to do anything to protect his people, which is perhaps why he's leading an army against the rebellion, attacking only as a last result. But Sokka's unwinding, it's taking a toll on him, and the only thing keeping him grounded are the letter Zuko and him exchange late in the night when no one can see the messenger hawks. But as they say, nothing's fair in love and war.

another word for wanting by eurydicees (23k)

Sokka begins to dream of his soulmate when he's eleven years old, and it just gets harder from there. Or, 125 moments soulmates share, and none of them come easy.

(In which your dreams are your soulmate's memories, and Sokka dreams of an all-consuming fire, growing and eating at his soulmate until it burns up the connection between their souls. In which they find love anyways.)

 It Has Only Just Begun by Kirazalea (39k)

There is a bitter triumph in crashing when you should be soaring

Zuko had now chosen the path his uncle had been trying so hard to show him; he had someone who believed in him, who maybe loved him; he was travelling with the Avatar and they apparently had a plan to end the war. By all accounts, Zuko should be smiling.

But Uncle was gone (captured by Azula, and Zuko didn't think she would kill him, but he didn’t, couldn’t, know for sure). The Avatar was barely breathing (he could still die at any second and there was nothing any of them could do about it). Azula had conquered the last Earth Kingdom stronghold (all those innocent people who were now at her mercy). It seemed like, for every step Zuko took forward, the world sent him back three more.

But he was determined to push forward anyways. He needed to make his uncle proud, even if it was the last thing he ever did.

aka: zuko joins the gaang at the end of season 2

 Nightmares and Reveries by HisMomoness (20k)

Zuko doesn't sleep because when he does, he's haunted by nightmares. Sokka worms his way into a job and makes it his mission to get Zuko to relax. Lots of head pets and one vacation to the South Pole later, Zuko might just be getting the hang of it.

Cue pining, some fluff, and eventual romance.

 The One Who Stopped Time by ohhihoney (66k)

All hope was lost to Zuko until one day, his uncle asked a random person at the Jasmine Dragon to tutor his nephew. Gritting his teeth and embarrassed beyond the point of no return, Zuko gave the blue eyed boy his number.

Little did Zuko know how much Sokka would change his world.

 Rubbed Off Stars by ohhihoney (2k)

Sokka wasn't going to just sit and watch the boy at the back of the bus cry while trying to rub off pride flags off his cheeks.

--------------

WIP

Ozymandias, King of Kings by Think_of_a_Wonderful_Thought (168k)

After that fateful Agni Kai, Ozai makes a different call. Branded as a traitor and banished to a prison camp, Zuko learns how cruel the Fire Nation can be to its citizens. Three years, a water tribe raid, and an unexpected meeting with a gang of over-enthusiastic idealistic children puts Zuko back in the spotlight. The revolution is coming and it wants another poster boy, but Zuko is not willing to lend his face to the cause.

 Another Brother by AvocadoLove (312k)

It was a mission of revenge. There weren't supposed to be any survivors, but Chief Hakoda couldn't bring himself to kill the Fire Nation boy. Against his better judgment, he brought him home. A Zuko joins the Water Tribe story.

--------------

BONUS : zuko x jet

Something to Hold Onto by Wildgoosery (122k)

Since the day the walls of Ba Sing Se fell, the Freedom Fighters have struggled to protect what remains of the city and its people. Jet and his second command, a mysterious boy named Li, have spent the summer piecing together an army, hoping for a chance to take the city back for good. But Li is also Zuko, and the time for that secret is quickly running out. Soon, he'll have to decide exactly who he is, what cause he's going to fight for, and where his heart lies.

[rahleeyah]

About the 500th episode now that I've seen it I'm surprised that it was actually a good storyline because with all the speculation about It I really was very on the fence on the whole thing but I still have 2 major things that I think make this episode a bit of a wasted potential. The storyline was important and relevant, but it really didn't need to be the choice for this amazing milestone for television. Yesterday was pretty emotional seeing on twitter and other media all the ways the show has impacted so many people, survivors of sexual abuse and other heavy stories, how the show was a pioneer on talking about this taboo themes and showing victims that their voices matter and Mariska herself being such a role model both as a kick ass actress that has been the face of a succesful show for more than 2 decades and still is even when she is now older and that's not common on TV and as an activist, her commitment to this important causes. So I really would have appreciated this to be a celebration yes of Olivia Benson as a character but more on her journey and accomplishments, of the SVU squad, their mission and on the victims that have been impacted positively by their work. Even fans suggested months ago the perfect title "And these are their stories" 23 letters for 23 seasons as WL likes. It's just that realistically this is the Last major milestone the show is probably gonna achieve and that would've been more satisfactory. But about the storyline itself the other thing is I really feel this had potential and would've been well suited for a double episode feature, even if It was not back to back. It could have been handled as the Rob Miller storyline, first the focus on the case of this man that Nick is interested of being cleared up and exonerated, you have that and you introduce Burton, plant the seeds about Liv reconnecting with him but let us remind more Liv's current context, her constant stress with her new chief, with the changes in her life and squad, a hint of Elliot even if he's not on screen so the moment of her going to the hotel and having sex with Burton is less OOC than it seemed. Then in next episode or several episodes later then drop Burton's shady reputation and the rest of the downfall but in the end even if It ended on a somewhat conclusion for Liv it's such an important storyline that the end landed a little bit flat, I think it would have been benefitial to see her truly closing the chapter. Let us see her willing to return to therapy but now not hiding the truth, let us see her coming at peace with her mom's role, like when she visited her grave after Sonya's downfall or her simply looking at her picture with Serena at peace, show her at least offering the fellow victims support in a more clear way siding with them, let her approach Nick and their last Interaction being one of comfort and friendship but on screen. I know this was implied but as someone who experienced this kind of issue when I was younger I really feel it was important to not be subtle on the closure part and it was necessary that they delivered a bigger resolution to the storyline for Olivia's journey and the audience members who could feel related to her, otherwise it's understandable that many felt this whole thing would just retraumatize Liv. But to be fair credit is due to what they did accomplish on the limited time they had, Mariska's acting was phenomenal and her scene with Aidan was really top notch, great dialogue and a good insight on this important and not so commonly represented un media kind of predatory conduct. Thank you Leah for sharing your impressions, it was really useful and it opened my mind on seeing this on a more positive note that maybe I would've been able to initially.

so this is the thing about speculation. speculation had some people so twisted up they were physically sick before they saw the episode. speculation genuinely hurt some people, bc narratives were spun out of thin air that were devastating and led people down dark paths.

now. was the episode itself brutal? yes. but it was not what it was made out to be by the speculation. it ended on a note of hope. it brought closure to an issue that liv has been avoiding dealing with for forty years. it hurt, but lancing a wound hurts. it is still necessary for the healing to begin.

speculation hurts without healing, especially bc like. fandom takes tidbits and spins so many amazing narratives. but those narratives come out generally after the episode is in the can; the episode is done already, no matter what fandom has to say about it. we can talk all day long about what they could have done, or what cool ideas fandom came up with, but fandom isn't in the room. there are a handful of people in the room, working out ideas together. fandom is vast, of course fandom is going to come up with so many more and varied ideas. there's a lot more of us than there are of them.

they have a certain amount of time to tell a story. do i wish they spent more of it on the characters than on the case of the week? yes.

but like also. they can only tell one story. fandom can tell thousands. so that is where we come in. we take the story we have been given, we pick it apart, we expand on it, we transform it, we make it ours.

yes, they could have done things differently - so if we want something different, let's make it.

i don't know that i would have wanted the burton storyline to be longer. i liked this set up. keep it contained, limit his exposure to liv and his importance to the narrative. and they spent the 500th episode focused on her in a way that i thought was really powerful. was about liv the woman. not the superhero, not the warrior, not the mom, not the cop, just who she is as a woman, her heart, her history, her hopes, her relationships. i found that a really moving tribute, the dedication just to her.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

trigger warning for self harm

how do i get my bf to accept that i sometimes become angry? for context, this only happens every two months maybe, then i am very irritable for a few hours, everything annoys me, i curse about everything and... am not very catious with things, like, today i was looking for a letter and it was at the bottom of a pile of sheets and i just pulled it out and the pile of (my) sheets (on my desk) became a pool, and i just didn't bother. but my boyfriend gets really stressed by this. he will stop answering me, if i ask him something and at some point (like that letter point) he will yell at me to stop.

but i don't want to stop, i just want to be angry, irrationally angry. for no other reason than that it feels right at that moment. and he will be so annoying (in my anyways pissed state) to me, that i will either leave the room or force myself to calm down because he really is unbearable (for me, in my angry mindset) when he is stressed. i sometimes harm myself, to put my anger somewhere (this is the only time that i still harm myself) but i hate that because... it reminds me of my childhood where my parents forced me to swallow all emotions and i just want to be angry, just for a while, because it feels good and i want to be free of expressing my emotions, even if they are irrational (i would bother more if it would happen more often but well, every two months, whatever). but i can't with him around.

and when i talk to him afterwards, he just says he can't bear me being angry (he didn't have an abusive childhood or anything) because i am usually exceptionally calm. and i get that, but why am i the only who has to swallow her emotions and why can't he just leave the room or anything?

how do i get him to just accept that i have the right to be angry? he doesn't has to comfort me, if that doesn't feel right for him, but just to stop forcing me to swallow my anger (or put it against myself).

btw, i would never ever let him see that i harmed myself because i don't want him to feel guilty or more stressed.

Hey there,

You are allowed to feel your feelings and express them. Especially as someone who has been forced to suppress their emotions, it can feel incredibly freeing and cathartic to express emotions. You absolutely have the right to be angry. There is undoubtedly a lot for you to be angry about.

At the same time, it is difficult to remain calm when someone around you is angry. So we have to look at real, material solutions.

Talk about this when you're both feeling calm and regulated. You're right that it's not fair for either of you to have to suppress your emotions. Your emotions are valid, and his emotions are valid as well. Be open and curious when asking about his thoughts and feelings. Make him feel heard. Ask him what he feels when you're expressing anger. Ask him if he has thoughts about why you might be doing what you're doing.

Then you can respond with your perspective and work from there. Maybe a solution is for him, or you, to leave when you need to express anger. Maybe he needs to learn more about trauma responses and trauma in general. Anger can be a really important emotion for trauma survivors. Repressing emotions isn't healthy, for anyone.

I think it's important to communicate that this is part of the process for you and that he doesn't have to do anything he's not comfortable with. Tell him you're willing to compromise, but that you're going to express your anger. Your boundaries are important and you're allowed to communicate them. You deserve time and space to process your trauma and heal.

Edit: Here's a post by a fellow mod about the validity of anger in recovery!

Wishing you the best!

- Misa

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

TUA HUNGER GAMES AU:

(please understand that by AU, I mean they share an incredibly small amount of things in common with the original source material which I barely remember BUT the “story” takes place in the setting of the books/films) (not to be misleading or anything :p)

(BEWARE: abuse, murder, human experimentation, etc.)

(If you can handle watching Umbrella Academy AND The Hunger Games, this will be fine for you.)

(Katniss) Allison doesn’t want to be here, but she wasn’t just gonna let Ray be taken from her by a stupid punishment meant for her great-grandparents. She resolves to win the Games for Ray, so she can make it back to him and they can start their lives together in a better place. But when she wins, her life is changed in ways she never could’ve anticipated.

(Peeta) Luther won a few years ago. He’s Allison’s age, but lives up in Victor’s Village, hiding from the rest of the District. She’s the only one who’s seen him in years, as she brings him food and supplies from town as one of her jobs. She’s fallen in love with him, and he with her, and when she goes to the Games, Luther begins to work with Ray to find and aid the rebellion, hoping to bring her home alive.

(Gale) Ray has understood the tragedy of the Games far better than most others since he was very little. He was chosen when he was twelve, but his sister volunteered for him and died in the last rounds of the Games. He’s been dreaming of running away ever since, writing his pamphlets and letters in hopes of stirring up a revolution, and when Luther approaches him for help, he thinks it might just finally work. He just hopes he doesn’t lose Allison, who he’s been planning on marrying since the day he met her, now that she’s volunteered for him too. Too many people love him, he thinks, and too much.

(Rue) Claire is a young girl Allison makes friends with during her Games, taking on a motherly role to her. Claire is struck down by another tribute, Patrick, and Allison killed him, but not before Claire is already too far gone. Allison holds her as she dies and joins the revolution, eventually, in her name.

(Prim) Vanya fell in love with Sissy a long time ago. Her husband died in the coal mines, and Vanya has been a nanny and second mother to her adopted son Harlan ever since. When Harlan is chosen, Vanya volunteers in his place, knowing she’ll die. Imagine her surprise when Allison saves her with a scheme about sisterly love.

(Johanna) Lila was one of the younger victors, known for seeming meek and eventually murdering over half her fellow tributes to win. She went mad with grief and rage after the Games, and only Diego, her beloved brother who she volunteered for, could calm her. Eudora is her lover, though they keep it exceptionally quiet, and she’s incredibly close with Five, though they’ll never be self-sacrificial for one another, as it breaks their agreement to respect each other as warriors. Lila’s ready to murder Reginald for what he did to her family - but first she wants to murder the Handler, who’s kept her on a leash for years by threatening Diego’s life.

(Finnick) Eudora is a victor, and the capital’s darling. She’s quite daring and charming, and seeks to help and mentor every tribute she can, not just those from her District. She, Diego, and Lila, a victor she mentored and later her lover, were childhood friends and were all possible contenders for the Games, though Diego never participated despite being Reaped twice because both Eudora and Lila volunteered for him. She considers Diego a brother, and ensures he is safe when his rebellion threatens his life. She is the hero of the revolution, and eventually takes over as President of Umbrellacademy (Panem) after the war is won.

(Snow) Reginald is the President of Umbrellacademy, and is hated by every District. Five has tried multiple times to kill him, but Reginald has escaped his murderous clutches every time. With each attempt, Reginald has locked Five away in a pitch-black room deep beneath the ground for days or weeks on end with only food and water as signs of life. Because of this, Five is distrusting and angry and doesn’t show loyalty to those if he can help it, yet is terrified of being alone. (Five is, however, the one who executes Reginald in the end. Because he goddamn deserves to.)

(Coin / Dr. Gaul) The Handler runs the Commission (District 13), a former District bombed into nothing in the first war. Five became her ally when he won, but soon realized she held nothing but contempt for the people of the Districts just like Reginald, and escaped from her. She keeps a tight grasp on Lila, who she knows was Five’s ally and friend, and works even harder towards her goal of taking over Umbrellacademy and ruling the lands for herself. In the end, Lila kills her when she gives her an ultimatum: choose unfathomable power and riches and kill Five, or choose Five and die by his side. Lila gives her a sad look and plunges her sword into the Handler’s heart wordlessly, gathering Five to her chest.

(Haymitch) Five has been bitter and angry since his victory, which occurred in the first quarter quell. His District chose him overwhelmingly, voting for him to be in the Games because he offered to give up his life for their children by being the tribute, knowing he could win. The trouble came when his fellow tribute Dolores, an unwanted, became his ally and friend, eventually sacrificing herself for him. One of her snakes bit him and the venom made him ageless, so he’s looked thirteen for forty-five years. He helps run the resistance, eventually leading it as the war worsens and they lose more and more people. Because of Dolores, he does not allow anyone to get too close to him, but is kind and loyal to anyone he does choose to hold his favor - Lila, Diego, Klaus, Allison, Luther, Vanya, and Ben. Though he’s gone mad from his traumatic experiences and time alone, he’s still one of Umbrellacademy’s most treasured citizens, and lives celebrated as a war hero by every survivor comes the war’s end.

(Effie) Klaus travelled to the Capitol when he was seventeen after his lover Dave volunteered for him in District 12. Horrified, Klaus followed him as a stowaway on the train, earning Five’s respect and protection. When Dave died, Klaus was devastated, and turned to drinking and partying to drown his woes. He works for the resistance with Five, but keeps his persona so bubbly and aloof nobody would ever suspect him of being even nearly as smart as he is. He’s found ways to manipulate the Capitol’s scientific brilliance for his own tributes’ advantage, once he won his right to be an escort for his District following Dave’s death. He used this knowledge to save one of his tributes, Ben, whom he formed so strong an attachment to they became near-lovers, partners in all but the physical. Klaus faked his death during training and preserved his spirit in the body of a mockingjay, who he keeps as a pet. He is dangerous, but vulnerable - for all his brilliance, Klaus is prone to emotional attachments, and finds himself making careless mistakes when the lives of his loved ones are threatened.

(Cinna) Diego is the fashion designer for District 12, having come to the Capitol with his sister Eudora after she won her Games. They’re both from District 4, but he instead chooses to work for 12, entranced by the District’s escort Klaus from their first meeting. The two fall deeply in love, but only acknowledge it in coded conversations and never touch if they can help it, knowing that to take any risk in revealing their feelings for each other would result in one or both of them being killed by the Capitol as an example. Diego has another sister in Lila, who volunteered for him when he was Reaped a second time, and protects both of them with his life. He is close to Five, who he works with closely when training tributes, and immediately recognizes Allison as the face of their rebellion, risking his life for her in the hopes that she will lead them to a better world where he can finally hold Klaus in his arms.

(Cato) Leonard is a tribute in Allison’s Games. He tries to kill Vanya, which prompts Allison to kill him towards the end of the Games. Though he had very little chance originally due to being from the incredibly poor District 8, he grew in danger with every tribute dead, and was well-known for his manipulative charm that won him many sponsors. Allison’s hatred of him does not stop him from showing himself as a prominent victim in her many traumatic dreams.

Hazel and Cha-Cha are peacekeepers, both of whom have wavering loyalties to the Capitol. Hazel is on the fence because he fell in love with a District 12 marketplace vendor, Agnes, and Cha-Cha has been in touch with the Commission for years, hoping to bring the rebellion to the forefront and finally make a safe home with Hazel that isn’t so structured and merciless. This is made difficult by the fact that the Handler has complete control over them, threatening Agnes’ life if they don’t cooperate, and they’ll both do anything to save her - Hazel because he loves her, and Cha-Cha because she loves Hazel.

Agnes is a woman from District 12 who sells tributes lucky charms. She gave Allison her wolf, and Five his snake, and Klaus his mockingjay, and continues to help her people in whatever way she can, offering them bread and treats in secret whenever she manages to scrounge some from Hazel and Cha-Cha. She’s a prominent figure in the black market, but dies when District 12 is bombed, prompting Hazel and Cha-Cha to begin infiltrating the Peacekeepers from the inside despite the overwhelming risks.

(Lucy Gray) Dolores was Five’s ally and friend in his Games, one who shared his emblem of snakes. She learned to control them and change their venom’s property with herbs, granting Five agelessness when she had one bite him just before dying in his arms, having sacrificed herself so he could win. Her death cemented Five’s hatred of the Games and Capitol and his belief of attachments as weaknesses, and he often hallucinates her and speaks with her phantom when he’s locked away from the world, leading her to be known as a sore subject with Five and his greatest weakness. (That is, until his new family comes along and gives him something to fight for.)

(Mockingjay) Ben was a tribute in one of Klaus’ first Games as an escort, and he fell in deep platonic love with him. The two remained bonded throughout the years, as Klaus saved Ben by faking his death and keeping him in the body of a mockingjay until their victory in the second war, and Ben stayed by Klaus’ side for all that time as his beloved pet. Klaus would receive the names of marks from Five and give Ben poison to kill them with, having found a way to alter the venom in Ben’s talons from records of Dolores and Five’s Games, and a couple of vague and shallow conversations between himself and the latter. When Ben returns to his human form, Klaus tugs him into his arms and thanks him for all he’s done, never leaving his side again.

[ninbinary]

DnD Character Backstory Datapoints - Example 1: Human Orphan Lives Dangerously

Hey, thank you to @kursed-curtain (who tumblr will not let me "@", good application u got here) for reblogging my DnD Character Backstory Datapoints suggestion :) (It goes without saying you could ideas like this for non-RPG character or story generation too, and could add more dice representing different things!)

In thanks, I decided to type up an example of me using it to create a (reallly overly-in-depth -- this is gonna be a long post!) character backstory idea from thin air.

(Let me know if you guys out there like this, and I'll do it again sometime! Also let me know if you use this datapoints-system to create a chararacter (or feel free to use this character backstory), and let me know how it goes!)

A) Human character, Younger (d2 + 1 periods)

(I'll refer to the character as "Character", and I'm not doing anything to bake Character Class in to the story (though I'll talk about that at the end), to try to make this as "generic" as possible!)

A0) number of time periods:

d6 roll of 4 = d2 roll of 2; +1 = 3 time periods.

A1) First Time Period:

d12 = 10 [10/12 Danger]

d10 = 6 [6/10 City]

d8 = 1 [1/10 Species Diversity]

That's an Extremely dangerous time, in a Relatively Urbanized area, with only 1 kind of species. Given that its the First time period for a started-adventuring-younger character, I think my overall summary would be:

"Abandoned Orphan in a Medium-Sized Exclusively-Human City"; they spend their early years with a few slightly-older orphans living in alleys and stealing food.

(Alternatively, other interesting ways you could interpret this: if your gameworld has "bad guy countries / city-states" near your "generally friendly demihuman species", you could do these dice as "orphan human in a [bad guy species] city")

A2) Second Time Period:

d12 = 11 [11/12 Danger]

d10 = 3 [3/10 City]

d8 = 3 [3/10 Species Diversity]

Wow, it's somehow gotten MORE dangerous for poor Human Character; but its also only half as Urban, and they're finally around a few more species of Demihuman. How would moving OUT of the city be MORE dangerous? Well, 'city invaded' is always an option, but because of the other two dice, here's how I'd turn these dice into a story point:

"Character's youth life of petty crime / cutpurse-ing for basic necessities finally ends in trouble so serious that they flee the city / their orphan-gang / the only home and family they've known, and join up with a travelling caravan." Depending on how "dark" you want the character to be, you could take it any number of ways; but let's say you want a Shit-Life-but-Charitable character and go with: one of their pickpocketting sorties goes bad, and as the pack scatters, Character and a close friend get caught in a blind alley by a city guardsman. Character is at the top of a ladder while Friend is scrambling up, but the guardsman is closing in, sword drawn, so Character throws a brick and kills the guardsman. Friend gets away, but before Character escapes, the next wave of guard sees their dead comrade and gets a good look at Character.

Character makes arrangements ASAP to sign on as a caravan guard, calling in favors to get semi-respectable looking leathers (and maybe the dead guards' sword) and a forged letter-of-reference from their gang's fence. Within a nervewracking 24 hours of lying low, Character's friends have managed to sign them on to a caravan, and one last sprint through the city's allies and undermaintained warehouses later, Character is all set. The next morning they're marching out the city gate with a 4-wagon, 15-individual caravan, run by a halfling merchant, taking fancier fabricks and fashionable metalworked jewelry to the more rural human/halfling backcountry outside of the city.

(So, here all the Danger is about the transition TO this period of Less-City, More-Species-Diversity time period). Let's see how it wraps up with Third Time Period:

A3) Third Time Period:

d12 = 10 [10/12 Danger]

d10 = 9 [9/10 City]

d8 = 2 [2/8 Species Diversity]

Oh dear; danger DOES seem to follow poor Character around! We're back to a Lot of danger, in an EVEN BIGGER CITY, around only a Few different species. How should this conclude Character's pre-Adventure story?

Well, since its so dramatic (STILL Danger, BIGGER City!), its going to end with such a bang, you'd probably want to think about where Campaign's going to begin.

(One way to read the Danger is by saying, "the caravan was raided and the survivors were taken prisoner", but how does that result in such a high City number (while the Species Diversity stays pretty low)? For example, if City stayed low, you could have Character be prisoner of a small bandit camp operating out of a wooded area.)

Well (and if this fits with the campaign setting), we could read it this way:

"the Caravan was raided by marauders from Underground-living [Species X], which hasn't been active in this area for decades..." The survivors were taken back through Species X's New Outpost in this region, and then a select few (including Character) were sent to the capital for one of the following unsavory ends (Ritual Sacrifice, or Gladitorial Combat, or Being Eaten at a Feast Celebrating the New Outpost, etc).

Fortunately for Character, one of the Species X jailors becomes sympathetic because.. they take pity on Characters' youth; or because of the Character's brazen tenacity defending a fellow prisoner from the head jailor's abuse [hey, tying back to their killed-a-guardsman moment], or something; and arranges for Character to be smuggled out of Species X City into the surrounding countryside.

(Another Alternative Idea, had One Dice Gone a Different Way: maybe if Species Diversity was higher, the Species X City could have enough different kinds of folks walking around that you could think about letting Sympathetic Jailor take on Character as a servant, apprentice or even adopted child -- albeit temporarily, or else they'd never be a player-character meeting up with the party. But it would definitely be interesting to see what a Human Orphan from the Mean Streets of [Medium-Sized Human City] would be like after spending their formative years as Adoptive Mindflayer Dad's protege).

Anyway, Wrapup:

Now a long way away from their 'home' city and probably home country (remember, they were captured by Species X nearby, but then moved days (or weeks) travel underground to Species X Huge City), Character finds their way to [wherever the Party starts], and will hopefully have a much less dangerous life just killing monsters and collecting treasure.

Character would definitely have a lot of street-smarts, might have a "I will survive no matter what" mentality, a healthy disrespect for law-and-order, probably standoffish about friendships but a deep loyalty to those they get close to (many of these being Great traits for an adventuring party!).

There's a lot of ways to tweak this outline to make them more "dark and moody" or give them different responses to their travails (if you wanted to make them more of a "mad dog", or utterly ruthless), and there's also room for plot hooks (who were their parents? What happened to their Orphan Gang back home? Does [their original city] have enough intra-city communication that their guardsman-killing will haunt them (for example, make the guardsman they killed someone with connections or seniority, so there's someone with a big axe to grind about eventually getting the guardsman's killer)? Did they grow close to some of their fellow Caravan people and did any of them survive the attack?)

Also if you have a specific character class in mind you can tweak bits of this -- Rogue or Warrior types fit perfectly, but a more Wizard-y character class could certainly fit too: you could play up their burgeoning powers, and have power flare-ups central to Character's 2 dramatic acts -- when they killed the Guardsman in Second Time Period, and have it be the reason that Sympathetic Jailor helped them in Third Time Period.

Thanks for reading all this, anyone who made it all the way through, and let me know what you think! (And no thanks to Tumblr, whose Text Popup stopped letting me type certain letters -- I wrote the actual Character Creation thing in a textfile cuz it was so long, but I then had to compose the incidental comments / intro in a textfile too then copy-paste-format it into this tumblr window >:P)