#marla master

[theunderestimator-2]

Gerard van Herk (guitar and vocals) and Tony Dewald (drums) of Déjà Voodoo onstage and backstage at the Cat's Paw, probably in fall 1982, photographed by Marla Master.

Inspired by The Cramps, the cult Montreal-based duo developed a distinctive style which they termed "sludgeabilly”, blending their primitive, swampy and minimalistic psychobilly/garage punk sound with `50s horror themes and surreal, dark humour. Struggling to find an audience, they eventually launched Og Records to promote their stuff but never managed to break into the mainstream markets, remaining under the radar till the day they split up in 1990.

Both Tony and his wife were diagnosed with cancer only months apart -both for a second time, ffs-, so here's a GoFundMe link for anyone that wishes to help: https://www.gofundme.com/f/please-help-as-we-both-battle-cancer

(via)

[bpdbeehive]

Characters that possibly have all 9 of the symptoms of the BPD criteria

Must have 5 or more symptoms:

1. Chronic feelings of emptiness

2. Emotional instability in reaction to day-to-day events (e.g., intense episodic sadness, irritability, or anxiety usually lasting a few hours and only rarely more than a few days)

3. Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment

4. Identity disturbance with markedly or persistently unstable self-image or sense of self

5. Impulsive behavior in at least two areas that are potentially self-damaging (e.g., spending, sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating)

6. Inappropriate, intense anger or difficulty controlling anger (e.g., frequent displays of temper, constant anger, recurrent physical fights)

7. A pattern of unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterized by extremes between idealization and devaluation (also known as "splitting")

8. Recurrent suicidal behavior, gestures, threats, or self-harming behavior

9. Transient, stress-related paranoid ideation or severe dissociative symptoms

Ame-chan/kawaiiangel- Needy Streamer Overload

Annie Wilkes- Misery

Ayano- Yandere simulator

Bojack Horseman- Bojack Horseman

Catra- She-ra and the Princesses of Power

Cersei Lannister- Game of Thrones

Dandy Mott- American Horror Story

Dennis Reynolds- It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia

Harley Quinn- DC

Homura Akemi- Madoka Magica

Jason Dean- Heathers

Jinx- Arcane

John Doe- Telltale Batman

Kanato Sakamaki- Diabolik Lovers

Marla Singer- Fight Club

Misa Amane- Death Note

Mizore Shirayuki- Rosario Vampire

Nagito Komaeda- Danganronpa

Pearl- Pearl

River Song- Doctor Who

Sarah Lynn- Bojack Horseman

Spinel- Steven Universe

The Joker- DC

The Master- Doctor Who

Yuno Gasai- Future Diary

[unapologetically-horrible]

She knows she’s hot. 🥵 my god.

[sixofprose]

Best New Fantasy Series

I read the first book of this series a year ago, then reread it a couple days ago to prepare for the second book, which I read yesterday. Let me tell you, folks, this series is a must read.

You follow Kaelin, a young boy in the Bardic Isles, a fantasy world where music is the magic system, as well as a huge part of the social and political order.

Kaelin is a self-taught flutist with a special gift who is afraid to play in front of anyone because of a tragedy he experienced in the past. But through a series of events, he ends up following one of the Masters of Music, getting the training he so desperately needs.

The first book focuses on their relationship, between mentor and student. In the second book, Kaelin spends time with each of the other Masters of Music, as well as the Bards that serve under them, which provides a much larger ensemble cast.

Now, what makes these books magic are the characters. You will fall in love with Kaelin, sweet, kind, beautiful boy, who also has one of the funniest mouths on him. The HUMOR in this book is so clever. The way he interacts with all the various Bards who visit, as well as the Masters, is delightful.

Additionally, it feels like you go on an emotional, healing, and ethical journey right alongside Kaelin. You can tell the author is a lifelong teacher, because the way lessons are taught to both Kaelin and the adults, are so authentic and impactful. I was moved to tears by the emotional moments constantly, and then a page later I would be laughing out loud.

The world that Himeda created is one I want transport myself to immediately. I'm invested in the plot, but more than anything my heart has been stolen by the world and its characters.

Musicians and non-musicians alike will get their breath taken away by these books. These books are wise, the heavy topics are handled with utmost care, and you can feel the love bled into every page. The author is 72 and has spent her whole life dreaming up this series and it really really shows.

If you take a chance on a book/series this week, please let it be this one!!!

It's on Kindle Unlimited too!

[john-bracket]

[readerviews]

"Master of Music" by Marla Himeda

A Fantasy Wrapped Around Music and Magic #books #bookreview #reading #readerviews

Master of Music: The Bardic Isles Series: Book One Marla HimedaIndependently Published (2023)ISBN: 978-1959900009Reviewed by Kathy Stickles for Reader Views (05/2023) “Master of Music: The Bardic Isles Series: Book One” is the first book in this new series by Marla Himeda and I would recommend it to everyone.  The book is filled with fantasy, music, wonderful characters, and deep emotions. I…

[st3f13ily]

BLUE LOCK HIGH

[LEGACY OF THE LOST LIGHT AND SHADOW]

• Masterlist (Everything you need to know is in here)

• Chapter 2: The Academy

• Previous ||| Chapter 3: Luxumbra

The path to the academy was long, and your legs ached by the time its towering gates came into view.

The stone walls stood like giants, carved with ancient runes and inlaid with veins of glowing blue crystal. Blue Lock Academy didn’t look like a place of learning—it looked like a fortress built by gods.

You clutched your worn bag tighter against your side. The dress Marla gave you was simple—soft beige with a linen shawl—and your boots were starting to wear thin. Still, you stepped forward with your chin high.

𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑡. 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑝. 𝐼 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑—𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓.

Two guards stood at the main gate, both clad in silver-trimmed black. They crossed their spears in front of you the moment you approached.

"State your name and business," one barked.

"My name is Y/n, and… I'm here to apply," you said. "To study."

The guards exchanged a look.

"And who sent you?" the other asked, raising a brow. "You have no escort. No crest. You don't look like someone from the noble districts."

Your stomach sank. "I wasn't sent by anyone. I came on my own."

A beat of silence passed before the first guard let out a low chuckle. "Another one of the desperate folk from the lower ridge, eh? Move along, girl. This place isn't for commoners."

You stepped forward instinctively. "I'm not lying. I have magic—elemental magic. That should mean something, right?"

They didn't budge.

"Even if you did," the second guard scoffed, "You need a recommendation or invitation. No one just 'walks in' to Aegis Academy."

You opened your mouth to argue again, when—"She's with me."

The voice came from behind you, calm but carrying enough authority to slice through tension like a blade.

You turned and saw him.

𝗜𝘀𝗮𝗴𝗶 𝗬𝗼𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗶

Dark blue hair fell over his eyes that glimmered like cobalt, calm and calculating. He was dressed in an embroidered navy cloak with silver embroidery—clearly someone important.

The guards instantly straightened. "Ah! Young master Isagi—we weren't aware—"

"I didn't make it public," he replied coolly, walking past you and toward the gates. "She's under my recommendation. She has potential."

Isagi turned to you and offered a small smile. "Come on, before they change their minds."

You scrambled to follow, still confused but grateful. The gates slowly opened, groaning under their weight.

The guards stood aside without another word.

"I remember you that you said you weren't going to participate in this academy... or any academy." He said.

"Well... I changed my mind, I also need to learn more about myself." And I replied.

You followed Isagi through a winding path that led toward a central courtyard, wide and circular, surrounded by arched stone pillars and blooming trees with golden leaves that shimmered like magic themselves.

He pointed you toward a smaller gate with a sun-shaped crest.

"That's the Ladies' Wing," he said, hands tucked into his pockets. "Entrance exams are held in the inner garden. You'll be tested for affinity, strength, and control. You'll manage."

You nodded, heart pounding. "Thank you… for earlier."

He just gave a smile and said "Hehe, it's nothing, but I need to go now, Meguru and the others are waiting for me." He was about to leave when he turned his head to glance at you over his shoulder, those eyes gleaming again.

"Welcome to Blue Lock."

And then he left.

You turned toward the sun gate.

𝐻𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑒 𝑔𝑜.

The garden behind it was even more stunning.  A crescent-shaped courtyard filled with intricate fountains, glass orbs floating midair, and decorative platforms carved with elemental runes. Dozens of girls in elegant, expensive robes stood in small groups, murmuring to each other.

All of them turned when you walked in.

Their eyes scanned you like a foreign object. Your simple dress. Your handmade bag. Your old boots.

No one said a word.

They didn't need to. You could feel the judgment in the air like static.

𝐼𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒.

You moved to a quiet corner and sat on the stone bench near a small glowing pool, waiting for whatever exam this would be. Minutes passed. Still, no one approached you. Just stares and whispers carried on the wind.

You lowered your gaze, brushing your fingers across the fabric of your dress.

𝑀𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒.

"Hey, nice bag."

The voice was warm. Cheerful. It broke through your thoughts like a sudden breeze on a still day.

You looked up.

A girl stood before you with a soft grin and vibrant eyes, light golden eyes. Her silver hair was tied in a loose braid, streaked with copper under the sunlight. Her uniform was more formal than yours but lacked the stiffness others had. She radiated confidence without arrogance.

You blinked. "Uh… thank you?"

"I'm being serious," she laughed. "Most girls here are peacocks. I'd kill for something practical like that."

You found yourself smiling, tension easing just a little. "I guess I like things simple."

She sat beside you without asking, resting her chin in her palm. "I'm Lavinia. House Rosenthal. My family runs the Southern Wind Archives." Then she raised an eyebrow and asked, "And you are?"

You hesitated.

"I… I’m not from any house."

Her expression didn’t shift, didn't flicker with disgust or condescension. She only looked curious. "So you’re… an outsider?"

You nodded slowly. "You could say that."

"Interesting," Lavinia hummed. "You don't act like one."

"Because I don't know how I'm supposed to act," you said quietly, then glanced at her. "You're not… bothered?"

"Why would I be?" She gave a mischievous grin. "If anything, I’m intrigued. The others here are so boring. Same dresses. Same gossip. Same fake smiles."

You huffed out a small laugh, surprised at her honesty.

Then her eyes flicked over to the exam platform, and she leaned closer, voice low.

"Between you and me," she whispered. "The exam is easy. It's more about what magic you have than how strong it is. If you're hiding anything special… well—now's your time to shine."

You looked at her sharply. 𝑊𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒?  𝐷𝑖𝑑 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡?

But she was already stretching her arms and hopping to her feet. "Come on. Let's go get judged."

You stood, heart still racing but warmer now.

𝐴𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝐼𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒.

The girls lined up in neat rows as the grand magical testing platform rose before them. It was a flat circular surface surrounded by floating orbs of light that danced in the air, reacting to the magic of those present. A few instructors stood along the edges, silently observing each student's progress as they prepared for the test.

Lavinia leaned close to you as the test began.

"Just do something simple. Make it look effortless. Everyone here is already expecting some flashy tricks," she whispered, giving you a supportive grin. "Just show them you know what you're doing."

You nodded, though your stomach churned with nerves.

One by one, the girls demonstrated their magical abilities. A girl dressed in a dark purple raised her hand and conjured a spiralling jet of flames that danced in the air. The crowd murmured in approval.

Another girl elegant with snow-white hair, raised her hand and summoned a wave of water that coiled like a serpent, forming and unfurling in midair.

𝑂𝑘 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛.

Lavinia gave you a subtle nod as you stepped up to the platform. Your hands were clammy, and your heart pounded in your chest. You had no idea what to expect from this exam, but now that you were here, facing a crowd of noble girls, all with their elemental abilities on full display, the pressure was almost unbearable.

The instructor, a tall man with glasses and an air of formality, addressed you with a polite nod. "And you are…?"

"Y/N. I'm from—" you hesitated. "Nowhere. Just… here to take the test."

He raised an eyebrow but said nothing further, and with a wave of his hand, the floating orbs overhead dimmed, leaving only a few sparkling softly in the distance. The test was simple enough, he explained. "We will observe the magic you're most connected to. Perform a simple spell, and show us the control you possess over your element."

You nodded again, trying to focus.

𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑑𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠. 𝐼 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑜𝑐𝑢𝑠 𝑖𝑓 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤.

You closed your eyes, exhaling deeply, summoning the magic within you, the only thing you’ve truly felt in control of here.

You lifted both hands in front of you and focused. You felt an energy stirring in your chest, swirling within, just below the surface. The rush of air around you shifted, the temperature dropping as you connected with the magic, both familiar and foreign.

Light first.

A soft golden glow began to emanate from your palms, and the light hovered between your fingers like a soft flame. The feeling was so comforting, so effortless, you almost forgot where you were. But something shifted inside, and then, alongside the light, shadows began to curl around the edges of your palms.

Your eyes flew open in surprise.

You hadn't meant to summon both at the same time. 𝑁𝑜, 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑤... 𝑛𝑜𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒.

The light pulsed, brighter, then dimmed, while the shadows writhed like they were alive. The magical energy was too chaotic and untamed. Your hands shook as you struggled to keep control, but the magic was surging beyond your reach. The golden light flickered erratically, and the shadows deepened, swirling into unnatural forms.

The crowd gasped as the shadows began to twist more violently, dark tendrils forming and stretching toward the air like they had a life of their own. You tried to pull them back, but the force of both magic pushing against each other made it worse.

You could hear murmurs from the other students, whispers of confusion, and judgment.

"What's happening? Why is she…?"

𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑝.

The shadows were creeping toward the ground now, and the golden light was fading. The spell was turning uncontrollable, and you could feel the power pulling at your mind, chaos, frustration, the inability to control it.

Before you could panic, a blast of cold air suddenly hit the magic, freezing the tendrils of darkness and light in their place, solidifying the magic into place like ice.

The frost magic cascaded over the mess of your magic and froze it completely, like a blanket of snow.

You froze, your hands trembling as the last remnants of the golden light flickered out.

In front of you stood Anri—the Vice Head of the Academy, her eyes narrowed with a sharp focus. She wore a cool expression, but there was a certain forcefulness about her like she wasn't here just to teach, but to maintain control. Her frosty blue magic was thick and dense in the air, coating your broken spell in an icy grip.

"Seems like you have more power than you realize," she said coolly, her voice crisp.

You swallowed. "I didn't mean to…"

Anri didn't seem concerned. "The test is about your control. Not just the spell you cast." Her eyes flicked to the crowd of watching students, some of whom looked unnerved. "You're lucky it was me who stopped it."

She turned her gaze back to you, her frost magic receding slowly into the air. "But you'll need to learn to control that power, or it control you."

Your heart was racing, but before you could respond, Anri lifted her chin and nodded to the side. "Come with me. We'll discuss this further."

At the edge of the platform, Lavinia was watching you with wide eyes.

The corridors of the Academy's central tower stretched endlessly, lined with portraits of ancient mages and rulers whose eyes seemed to follow her every step. Anri Teieri walked with a quiet urgency, the hem of her ceremonial scholar robes brushing the polished obsidian floor. The halls of power echoed with silence, and yet, her thoughts were louder.

The council had barely finished their panicked whispers when she had excused herself. She already knew who she needed to speak to.

The Head.

No one called him by his full title anymore. Not even the high mages. To most, he was simply Ego—a man who wore ambition like a crown and made no apologies for it. He was the one who built the Academy into the political and magical powerhouse it is today. He was also the only one who would listen without flinching.

Anri reached the topmost chamber and stood before the towering brass doors, etched with an abstract sigil of a wolf devouring the sun. A silent warden opened it without a word.

Inside, the room was dim but humming with energy, floating scrolls, suspended crystals, and arcane diagrams danced in the air. Maps of kingdoms and constellations overlapped with blueprints of arcane formations. And at the far end, with one hand behind his back and the other holding a quill midair, stood Ego Jinpachi, the most controversial mage in the Empire.

He did not turn as she entered.

"You're early." he said, voice sharp like cracked glass. "Good. Punctuality is the habit of people who believe in time."

"And tardiness is the habit of people who believe they own it." Anri replied without missing a beat.

A pause. Then Ego chuckled. He finally turned to face her, his cloak swaying like smoke behind him.

"You've come about the girl." he stated, rather than asked.

Anri nodded, eyes steady. "She manifested both Light and Shadow. The ruins of Luxumbra responded. You know what that means."

Ego's eyes gleamed with something dangerous—fascination.

"It means the system has cracked. Again," he said, walking toward a hovering scroll. "And cracks... are where the light gets in."

"Or where the darkness leaks out," Anri countered. "The council wants her restrained. Bound, even. But I know you've been watching her longer than they realize."

Ego smiled wide but creepy. "Of course I have. Anyone capable of igniting both ends of the divine spectrum is worth watching. She is the deviation I've been waiting for."

"You're not surprised."

"I’m never surprised. Only intrigued."

Anri folded her arms. "You want to use her."

"I want to train her. There's a difference," Ego corrected, tapping the tip of the quill on his palm. "She's the culmination of balance, Light and Shadow, Creation and Destruction. And where do they want to place her? A dusty ruin. Out of fear."

"She's untrained."

"All the more reason she needs guidance. And not the coddling kind that House Terra would offer, or the blade-first doctrine of House Ignis. She needs a purpose, not a leash."

"And you think you can give that to her?" Anri raised an eyebrow.

Ego stepped closer, lowering his voice like a conjurer drawing a circle. "Anri, you want to see this academy win its first World Arcane Tournament, don't you? You want us to rise beyond the Empire's shadow. To win. Finally. She's not just a student. She's a weapon—one they forgot existed."

Anri’s voice dropped, cool and firm. "She's not a weapon. She's a girl."

"A girl with potential no one’s dared to unlock, I don't care if the council calls it madness. They've been stuck in tradition for too long. We don't win by following the rules, we win by rewriting them."

Anri looked at him carefully. She'd always admired his boldness, even if it terrified her. "So what do you propose?"

"I want her enrolled under no House but placed in Luxumbra’s ruins. My domain now, according to the Academy's founding pact. I'll observe. Shape. Push. And you, if you truly believe in this nation's victory, will protect her from the vultures who will try to clip her wings before she learns to fly."

"You're asking me to defy the Council."

"I'm asking you to believe. Not in them. Not in me. But in her."

Anri didn't speak for a moment.

She remembered the girl's expression, wide-eyed, confused, but burning with something beneath the surface. Something powerful. Something real.

"I believe in winning," Anri said softly, eyes narrowing with determination. "And I believe she might be the only way."

Ego grinned.

"Then let the games begin."

Tags ☛ @inojinieeee @ro4love @sapphireillusions @chuurinnie @siriustaar @clara120 @c4ttheart @yuiearyi

[griffinkid]

Marla is a master cake thief. Her only deterrant is a quick smack on the paw and a firm "oi that's mine"

[gl1tchy-4rt]

Building a band!!

Here's the Members of...

"Here in 'Go Make Some Sound' it's all about doing something fun and enjoying ourselves, if we are not enjoying it then we try something else" - Marla the Mushroom

Marla the Mushroom: Bass player of the group.

She is peppy and outgoing, she maybe the only gal in the group but don't let that make ya think she won't defend herself!

Works part-time at "Noisette Cafe" and is good friends with the owner.

"I don't care if our music is silly, or childish or anything, what matters is that me, my pals and the audience we are having fun!" - Stretcher the Cheese

Stretcher the Cheese: Drummer of the group

He may look a bit old but i assure you he is full of life! Always amazed by the life and animals that live in the world.

Works part-time at Virgil's farm.

"All i have to say is that life is pretty amazing and i'm glad to be here" - Tommy the Tomato

Tonny the Tomato: Guitarist of the group

The chillest clown that ever lived, but that doesn't stop him from being a party animal!

Works part-time at a convenience store.

"I...i'm just happy to be alive and well, and especially that my friends are here and okay" - Brad the Butcher

Brad the butcher: Pianist of the group

Don't let his scary appearance fool you, he is pretty nice and pretty much the dad of the group, despite his challenged vision you, he can play music like a freaking master!

Works part-time as an actual butcher.

"Life's about enjoying yourself, so that's what we are doing! enjoying life" - Presley the Pineapple

Presley the Pineapple: Lead vocalist of the group.

A Strong yet melodious voice to set the stage and lead the band to a wonderful performance! And is that voice is no other than Presley! Leader of the group.

Works part-time in a bar.

"We are all here! and that's so cool!and i'm so glad that... we all changed, for the better!" - Peshino the Bot

Peshino the Bot: Accordion player of the group.

Hands that used to make pizza are now used to play wonderful melodies with his new friends! He is never afraid to put a bit of color to life.

Works part-time in a post office.

Last but not least be can't forget about their manager: Snotty and his secretary: Ms. Iceyy! By @fizzysartplace

Sadly we couldn't get an interview with them :(

(archive photography) /jk

So yeah! that's "Go Make Some Sound!!" i really enjoyed drawing them :)

See y'all next time! Buh-bye!!

[dyns33]

Fight Club part 2

Part 2 of my little Tyler Durder x Reader

Because of Project Mayhem, people tend to believe that Tyler Durden likes chaos. That he is the embodiment of chaos.

He likes to see others lost, but he is never lost himself. He is completely in control. He knows what's going to happen, because that's what he decided. An agent of chaos, following a straight line. No one seemed to have understood this.

So I was the only person in the world fully aware that if Tyler Durden was in prison, it was his choice.

It's a mistake to think that cutting off the head of the Mayhem project would stop everything. Even though he is the creator, Tyler did everything to keep his beast running without him. A brainless creature, space monkeys, who know perfectly well what their master wants without him needing to speak.

Plus, Tyler won't have his head cut off. His monkeys are everywhere, in the police, among the juries, behind the walls of his prison. He is surrounded by his followers, who ensure his safety.

If he wants, he can go out. It is obvious that he sometimes goes out, for a few hours, a few days, without the authorities being alarmed.

I know this because I know Tyler very well. Without knowing why or how after all this time, I know him. I hear him in my head sometimes. I feel his breath on the back of my neck, a presence as reassuring as it is frightening.

I know him, so I am always careful even if he is in prison, even if he is far away, even if it has been almost a year.

He haunts my thoughts. My nights. I can still see us on that beach, on the plane, in the house. I miss him, and that's what scares me the most. I have to be wary of everything, and myself first.

Jack is still outside, faithful doggie, psycho boy, who probably gives the orders when the leader sleeps in his cell. I don't think they're looking for me. I am dead and buried. But all it takes is one mistake for everything to change.

That's life. People. I'm not perfect. The mistake came one day. It all started with a heart attack on a bus.

Nothing weird, I wasn't even on the bus. Like every day at the same time, I had my coffee on a terrace, my only little moment of relaxation.

The bus passed the café. I didn't even see it anymore. I didn't see the man fall, nor the people around him become alarmed. It didn't matter to me in the slightest.

That was bad news for a federal agent, because the man who had just died was a well known space monkey. Big Bob. Kind Bob, a bit stupid, who continued to obey by traveling all over the country spreading the word of Tyler Durden.

He had seen me. This came as a shock to him, since he was the one who found my body.

It could have ended there, but one of the feds were obsessed with Tyler. With his organization. He wondered if Bob had been murdered, so he went his way, he took the bus, and he saw me too.

We had never met, but when he approached, I knew immediately why he was there.

“Everyone thinks you’re dead.” he said to me as he sat down. Everyone was Tyler.

“I don’t know what you're talking about.”

He took out a Polaroid photo. Tyler loved Polaroids. He had quite a collection. I know because Marla talked about it sometimes, to annoy Jack. Intimate photos, all the people he had fucked with, in erotic positions, during the act.

We had never fucked. We barely shook hands, and even though I knew what he wanted, there had always been a distance between us. The walls and the ceiling.

I didn't know Tyler took a picture of me while I was sleeping. He had written down my name on it. I wondered if Marla or anyone else had seen it before the police. I wondered how I felt, knowing that he had taken this photo, and the meaning it had.

"He doesn't talk much. He doesn't like me to show him this photo, but he told me it was his heart, and that it was buried under the house. We found a body. You have an explanation ?"

I had tons of explanations, but I didn't want to share them with the agent. Tyler wouldn't have liked it, and I didn't like it either.

“Tell me about him.” he insisted.

"No."

“You know what he’s up to.”

“As much as you.”

“Give me something, or I’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

"I don't know anything. We met on a beach, he put me up for a while, then I left. Don't tell him you saw me. It won't do you any good."

My mistake was not to believe that the agent would be intelligent enough to listen to my request. He listened. He didn't tell Tyler that I was alive.

No, my mistake was harder to see, seeming insignificant for several days, until I woke up in the middle of the night.

Even if he didn't tell him I was alive, the agent would still tell Tyler about me, hoping to get a reaction. He already knew from the picture that I was special, a point that needed to be pressed, and he wasn't going to stop.

So he was going to talk about our meeting. He was going to talk about the beach.

No one knew about the beach, except Tyler and me.

Since Tyler never told anyone, he would know everything without the agent needing to speak.

There was a bit of panic when the newspapers announced the escape of the leader of Project Mayhem. Speculation regarding his intentions was endless, ranging from bateriological terrorism, to bombing buildings, to assassinating the president.

Only I really knew why he was out there after all this time.

Contrary to what others think, he never wanted to take control or destroy the world. That wasn't the goal of Project Mayhem. Tyler had a vision on a human scale. He only likes to play, among other things.

If I dreamed of him, he dreamed of me. The difference was that while I was running as far away from his cell as possible, he had no reason to leave since he thought he knew where to find me. He still had his picture, and his memories.

Bob really had a talent for breaking things.

I could have continued to flee. It would have been less easy now that the agents of Chaos knew I was alive, but I could have tried. Like a new game. But I didn't like Tyler's games.

I decided to wait for him in my apartment. It was his move. It was always his move.

When he knocked on my door, he thought about bringing beers and pizza. He did this with Jack at home sometimes, at first. When there was still just the club.

He didn't say anything when he saw me, as if he always knew he would see me again one day. Maybe he knew.

Dinner passed in silence, facing each other, waiting. It was his move. I won't start. He seemed to understand it. He decided to make an effort.

“You remember the beach.” It was not a question.

“A guy building a giant hand, you don’t see that every day.”

"I guess not. You broke my heart. But I forgive you. I didn't think you remembered."

“We wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t remembered that.”

"Maybe not."

“I’ve always wanted to ask you, why this hand ?”

"I wanted to talk to God. Since he didn't answer, I decided to steal his hand. When I was finished, I looked at what it was pointing at and I saw you, looking back at me. Then I knew it was you."

"What me ?"

"It was you." he only repeated, as if I should understand what he meant, and the worst thing was that I understood perfectly what he meant.

Silence returned, as I finished my beer. All this was far too intimate, more intimate than his photos. More domestic. Something was seriously wrong with Tyler Durden.

I didn't know if I should talk about all the other things I knew. That would have made the situation even worse.

“I don’t like chaos.” was the only thing I could say.

"No one likes that, you'd have to be a moron. You never like what's necessary."

“Nothing is necessary.”

"I love you."

I vividly remembered Jack and Marla, two idiots who danced and screamed, unable to clearly admit how they felt and preferring to trample romance with cigarettes and condoms.

I had often judged Jack because of this. Not anymore. I wanted to slap my face with my hands and disappear, as Tyler started to smile.

Since I didn't need to say what I already knew, he didn't need to say what I already knew. I knew it from the plane. Since his invitation. From his bed above mine. Ever since he took a picture of me sleeping.

He didn't need to say it. We weren't talking about that. It was a new rule. Unfair.

“This can’t end well.”

"As always. Like everything. Endings are never good, that's the tragic thing. And yet, life goes on."

"I wanted to talk to you on this beach. It would have been different if I had."

"We would have fucked like dogs in your hotel room, I would have beaten up your asshole boss sooner, and the world would have burned down on its own. I'm glad you didn't talk to me."

I had sometimes dreamed of another path. I was stupid enough to have hope. Tyler was destroying hope, that was his reason for being, providing total freedom.

I wasn't sure what I was. I still am not today. His heart, maybe. His poor heart.

[jessilynallendilla]

CAPTIVE PRINCE FIC REC MISCELLANEUS 

TITLE/LINK RATING COMPLETED-WORD-COUNT SERIES

Home Post

let me know if the links aren't working and feel free to recommend any

MISCELLANEUS 

 Mother, Make Me  NR 16284 

In which Hennike survives a murder attempt by the Regent and runs away with her son, Laurent, in order to protect them both. They end up in Akielos. 

Papa  T 23413 SERIES 

Big blue eyes blink up at him. “I’m Laurent.” 

Makedon smiles and offers his hand. “Makedon.” 

Laurent hesitates, then gives Makedon his free hand. Normally a shake between men would result in posturing and squeezing, sizing each other up, but this is a child, and a Veretian child at that. A limp fish shake is all he gives the boy. That was the night Makedon met Laurent, and knew deep down this boy was about to change his life for the better. 

Stargazers  M 90640 

Five years after the Truce of Marlas, Damen and Laurent meet again in Delpha. They're forced to work together to soothe the growing tension between their countries. But Laurent does not forgive easily and Damen's not that sorry. 

Je me Soucie de Toi (I Care for You)  EX 111449 

Erasmus was born an omega and was sold into slave gardens by the seaside. His only consolation is his dearest friend Kallias and his hope for a better, safer future, something he believes a kind and gentle master will provide. However, when Akielos' king, Damianos, marries the second prince of Vere, his future is thrown into jeopardy as Prince Laurent intends to abolish slavery. Never did Erasmus think the prince would become his trusted friend or that he would be a catalyst for change in all of Akielos. All he wants is someone to care for him and it may come from the unlikeliest of places. 

Snakeskin EX 83865 

Prince Laurent of Vere is supposed to be dead. He was supposed to be betrayal, brutalized, and murdered by men hired by his own family. But instead, he is pressed against a broad, warm chest and promised that he’ll have an army to reclaim his crown if he journeys to Akielos and wins a competition there called ‘The Kallisti’.  Crown Prince Damianos of Akielos is on a mission to prove his honor and courage through a contest. When he rescues someone claiming to be the Prince of Vere from being drugged and murdered, he finds his key to victory. Now all he has to do is bring everyone back to Ios without getting killed… 

Beginnings  T 3634  

Laurent, prince of Vere and heir presumptive to his yet-unmarried brother, King Auguste, is sent on a diplomatic mission, where he meets Damianos of Akielos. 

No Rush EX 13625 

Laurent is eleven when he’s introduced by his brother to Prince Damianos. 

Courtship  G 5425 

Damen just wants to court Laurent. Nobody in Vere makes it easy for him, least of all the man he hopes to marry. 

Courts, Crowns, and A Little Game of Chess  T 55116 

The fic where Laurent is a reserved, bookish, hero-worshipping boy who meets Prince Damianos for the first time. 

Love of the Second Star  M 121588 

In the book series, Laurent and Damen thought aloud about what life might have been like if their countries were at peace and Auguste had lived... In THIS story Vere and Akielos are allies and 17 year-old Damianos is spending four months of every other year in the Veretian Court. It is there, he begins to feel attracted to the prince of Vere and discovers darkness hiding under the surface of court. Spanning nearly 8 years, Damen, Auguste, and Laurent are embroiled in bittersweet feelings and intense passion. 

The Heir  G 1002 

The wet nurse was found in Jokaste's rooms at Ios. She was quick to prostrate herself, quick to proclaim her loyalty to Damienos, quick to give up the child when asked. For all of her cunning, Jokaste's servants were not as loyal as she seemed to believe. 

Forest, Flame and Fury  M 

It is four months to crown prince Laurent’s ascension when Damen visits Arles for the first time in ten years. With only limited recollections of Laurent as a young child, Damen slowly begins to reacquaint with him again, finding things old and new to learn. 

Edgewise  EX  27801 

‘Thank you, I know exactly how it would have been. You and Auguste would have been slapping each other on the back and watching tournaments, and I would have been trailing around tugging on your sleeve, trying to get a look in edgewise.’ 

Five Goats  EX 32412 

In which Laurent runs away from Arles, hides out in Vask, encounters some goats, tries to regain his throne, and is wooed by the prince of Akielos, not precisely in that order. 

I Know The Way Your Skin Feels On My Collarbones  EX 

It's Autumn when the messenger arrives in Ios bearing the proposal from the King of Vere. It's Spring when the Akielon Royal family comes to Delpha to sign the betrothal contract. Seven years of letters, growing up, moving on, and falling in love with words written in the Prince's hand but only remembering the hate in his blue eyes. 

The Veretian Flytrap  EX 176152 SERIES 

The court treated it like a joke. His uncle told him it was a weakness. Laurent chose to listen to what Auguste had said it could be: an advantage. 

Something Good  EX 25255 SERIES 

Prince Laurent warned him. After looking at the dark burns across his thigh with an upturned lip, the prince told Erasmus to be brave and something good might come of it. 

In full comprehension  T 557 

“For what it’s worth, I’m relieved that you knew,” he says, low enough that no one but Laurent can hear him, and with his eyes calmly averted. 

“That I didn’t let you between my legs knowing only your false pretense?” 

He doesn’t rise to it. Raises his eyes to Laurent’s instead, solemn and true. 

“That you weren’t punishing an innocent. That you wouldn’t do that.” 

future cat/love songs  T 1527 

Erasmus in Bazal, beloved and cherished and mastered. 

That Spring Before Marlas  T 

Before Marlas there was a bright season in which Laurent made his first friend, helped Auguste woo a bride, created his code of honor and developed an arsenal of court skills that would see him through the snake pit of his future. 

False Cognates T 5776 

The meanings behind courtship gifts are different in Akielos and in Vere. And Damen, in trying to court Laurent with all the grace and courtesy he deserves, ends up sending entirely the wrong message.  

The cry of the living  M 431 

He watches as Laurent shows the children one of his own tricks, making them gasp in surprise, and flashes of what could be their lives soon start popping into his mind. 

King of the Woodlands  T 3138 

Laurent is a Disney Princess with a habit of collecting strays. 

Kiss Me Better  T 6903 

Erasmus has settled in Patras and slowly getting used to his new life. As they spend more time together, Torveld finds himself falling for him, not the slave or possession but him. But shadows of Erasmus's past loom over him and Torveld tries each day to help ease away the scars. But there Torveld things-even with all his power as prince- may not be able to just wipe away. 

Captive Princes  EX 49854 

Only one fell, but two princes were killed at Marlas. The boy Laurent was died that day, and a new one took his place, formed by the Regent's unspeakable desires. Starting at Marlas and going beyond the end of Kings Rising, this is Laurent's story. 

On a bed of white flowers  EX 21132 

Laurent's thoughts, from Captive Prince to Kings Rising. 

second child  EX 23609 

The most memorable moments of the Captive Prince series told sequentially through Laurent’s eyes. 

Idol  G 1552 SERIES 

Laurent has a scene set up before him in the front play room: two chairs each with a doll sitting in them, a stuffed teddy bear with leaves on its head sat atop a box, and a large pillow wearing a hat and what looks like Laurent’s outer dress propped up against some books. They are all facing Laurent himself, who is standing on top of a short stool proudly. Auguste walks in on Laurent pretending to be him. 

A field of golden flowers  G 6364 

Instead of fighting the war where Damen kills Auguste, Damen and Laurent meet as kids. Cuteness (and some awkwardness) ensues. All it takes are a few flowers and a horse. 

Kindred Spirits  T 4743 

Portraits of the royal families of Akielos and Vere growing up. 

Maps  T 2051 

Laurent, on the eve of two wars. 

Blood of the Covenant  T 2123 

The story of the sapphire boy and stone cold prince, from beginning to end. The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb, and sometimes the family you form is stronger than the family you have. 

Flower Trembling on the Vine  NR 8497 

Or, Five times Erasmus was afraid, and one time he wasn't. 

The Little Prince's Clothes  G 1645 

The small golden Prince does not want to dress up in stifling clothes and manages to escape his servants before they can put clothes on him. Soon the whole castle is looking for him and Auguste has to be pulled out of work to help. Meanwhile, Laurent is enjoying his freedom and wonders if he could see a unicorn one day. He does have a fast pony. 

on friendship  T 1194 

Nikandros remembers seeing Laurent, and thinking quite clearly, Oh no. 

storm's eye  G 3031 

If Nikandros hated himself enough, he could imagine that Damianos would walk through the door at any time. He could imagine him opening his arms in welcome, his face bright in a laugh, challenging Nikandros to a wrestle in the training arena. As if they were children again. But Nikandros had not come to Ios to meet Damen. Nikandros had come for the funeral. 

[a-bit-of-writing]

02/30 - Lock

Fandom: Outlast

Character: OC 

Words: 1,257

Summary: Trapped in Mount Massive Asylum as it descends into blood-soaked chaos, Marla must survive the night with nothing but a name, and even then that is slipping.

Note: I really went all out with this piece to the point that I'm considering making this into a multi-chapter story 😅

30 day fanfiction challenge

Setting: Mount Massive Asylum, sometime after the generators die.

The screaming hadn’t stopped in hours.

At least, Marla thought it had been hours. In the bowels of Mount Massive, time leaked away like blood through gauze - slow, sticky, impossible to measure. The emergency lights guttered overhead, coughing up wan red strobes that painted everything in fever-bright pulses, then plunged the corridor into ink. Every few seconds the asylum seemed to breathe: a choking inhale of crimson glow, a rattling exhale of darkness.

Inside her padded cell the walls were no longer white. They wept rust-brown streaks, the stuffing beneath torn open as though the room itself had been disemboweled. Somewhere far off, an air-handling fan squealed, warped blades chewing through stagnant air; each metallic shriek wormed under Marla’s skin.

She’d wedged herself beneath the child-sized desk bolted to the corner. Knees folded so tight her joints ached, shoulder pressed against cold concrete where the padding had been ripped away. Her patient smock, once hospital blue, was mottled with other people’s fluids: old vomit, fresher blood, iodine yellow where antiseptic had spilled. She smelled like a slaughterhouse floor.

Marla… Marla… She mouthed the name over and over, no sound emerging. It was a paper talisman, a desperate mantra to remind herself she still existed beyond this place. That she was more than a warm body on a checklist.

The first body had hit her door at what might have been dawn. A wet thud followed by a boneless slide. After that, the corridor devolved into carnival pandemonium - boots hammering tile, inhuman laughter ricocheting off cinder block, the dull percussion of fists against metal doors as panicked inmates begged for release or mercy or both.

Mount Massive granted neither.

Occasionally a silhouette lurched past the square of reinforced glass set into her door: naked patients smeared with gore like savage birthmarks, orderlies shrieking obscenities as they were dragged away, a priest in tatters reciting scripture while fire licked up his sleeve. Once, two figures tottered together - a macabre embrace - until one caved the other’s skull against the wall and danced away through the spray.

She kept still. Kept silent. Silence was survival.

But curiosity, that suicidal ember, finally drove her to the shin-high feeding slot. She inched forward on raw palms, careful not to let the metal grate squeal. Outside lay the remains of someone in staff whites - face down, spine arching out where vertebrae had been yanked free like links of grisly rosary. Steam rose from the organs spilling across the tiles, misting the lens of the hallway camera that blinked but recorded nothing anymore.

Marla clamped a trembling fist between her teeth before the scream could tear loose. Copper flooded her tongue, an anchor to reality.

Then the lock rattled.

Click.

Not battered. Not shot. Unlocked.

A line of icy sweat traced her spine. Whoever held that master key wanted inside.

The handle turned with deliberate care, as though savoring anticipation. Hinges whined; the door yawned inward a handspan, and red strobe light knifed into the cell, illuminating flecks of dried blood drifting in the air like black snow.

Beyond the threshold stood a figure no taller than Marla - slight, almost delicate. A patient’s wristband glimmered beneath crusted gore. Their grin split impossibly wide, cheeks cracked at the seams, teeth pink with meat. In the upturned glare of the emergency lights their eyes shone catlike, pupils blown wide with mania or medication - here, difference meant nothing.

They raised a scalpel. Its blade was pristine, polished to a mirror finish despite the carnage caking their forearm. It caught the red flash and winked, promising every exquisite slice still untouched by rust.

“Found you,” the stranger whispered in a voice scraped raw, as though their throat had been sanded with glass. “Time to play doctor.”

Marla scrambled backward, skull knocking the desk. Spots burst behind her eyes. In the corridor, something heavy dragged closer. The wet rasp of flesh against tile, punctuated by a metallic rattle. More of them. She could already smell the iron tang rising like humidity after a storm.

She considered begging, but the stranger’s smile said yes, cry. Instead she reached blindly behind the desk, fingers closing around a splintered strip of wooden molding. Pathetic weapon. Better than prayers.

The lights failed then - total blackout. Only the asylum’s diseased heartbeat remained: distant alarms chirping like dying birds, ventilation fans grinding, the low bass of thunder rolling above the mountains.

In the void Marla heard them breathe. A chorus of hungry lungs.

Red light flared again. The scalpel arced toward her face.

Marla swung the broken wood with animal ferocity. Crack. The figure shrieked - a high, wheedling note - yet the blade still carved a shallow furrow along her cheek. Hot blood spattered the padded wall, instantly black in the crimson strobe.

She lunged toward the door, slipping in the viscera puddling at her feet. Her soles skated, found purchase on exposed concrete. She bolted into the hallway - into Hell.

Bodies littered the corridor like gore-slick stepping-stones. Fluorescent fixtures dangled, sparking where wires had been gnawed by frenzied hands. Up ahead, two inmates tore at a guard’s corpse, pulling intestines in opposite directions as though divvying rope. One looked up, nostrils flaring, eyes focusing on Marla with lupine hunger.

She ran.

Her breath hitched in ragged sobs, ribs knifed by each inhale. The asylum seemed to warp around her - corridors narrowing to suffocating throats, doorways yawning like broken jaws. Somewhere an automatic door slammed, metal folding like thunder, followed by a chorus of shrieks as hunters were locked out or prey locked in.

She slammed her shoulder against a side door marked RESTRICTED-MEDICAL RECORDS. The latch broke. File folders exploded into the air, fluttering like diseased moths. She wedged a rolling cart against the handle, hands slick with gore, ears straining for footsteps.

Instead she heard the ventilation grate above her pop loose. Something massive crawled inside the ducting - steel buckling, a wet snort echoing downward. Heavy, predatory. Walker. She’d overheard that name in therapy sessions; it tasted like doom.

Marla’s vision tunneled. Her knees nearly buckled. She needed to hide, to disappear, but Mount Massive was a maze designed by sadists.

Her gaze fell to a metal service elevator at the far end, its doors ajar like a secret mouth. Past it loomed the surgical theaters - cold rooms rank with formaldehyde and bone dust. If she could reach them, maybe she could lose herself in the labyrinth of gurneys and cadavers.

Behind her, the cart rattled, the scalpel-wielding stranger testing the barricade. Their giggle seeped through the gap. “Ooooo, patient’s playing tag!”

The grate in the ceiling groaned again.

Marla’s pulse hammered so loud she thought her ears would burst. Move. She sprinted, slipping on papers, shoulder-checking the elevator doors wider, and hurled herself inside. She punched the Down button with frantic fingers. Gears howled; cables juddered; the doors crept shut just as the hallway lights sparked white, revealing the silhouette of a hulking giant dropping from the duct like a slaughter-house angel.

As darkness swallowed the elevator, Marla sagged against the wall, chest rising in sharp, painful jags. Somewhere below, the basement levels waited, generator rooms drowned in ankle-deep water, morgues where the dead refused to stay still, laboratories echoing with Walrider whispers.

But she was alive. For now.

Blood dripped from her cheek, pattering onto the elevator floor in a growing constellation - red stars in the black.

Her reflection in the dull brass panel stared back, pupils huge, hair matted, lips cracked.

“Marla,” she rasped, voice foreign in her own throat. “I am Marla. I am-”

The elevator jerked to a halt between floors. Lights failed. A hand - huge, callused - punched through the roof grate above, searching.

Mount Massive wasn’t done with her yet.

[four-loose-screws]

FE2 Novelization Translation - Book 2 Chapter 2 Part 5

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

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———————————

Chapter 2: Battle at the Border

Part 5: Sonya’s Secret

The Newly Reborn Knights of Zofia marched as quickly as they could towards the summit of Fear Mountain to rescue Silque. They were so afraid of General Nuibaba that their fear actually took their minds off of all other matters. The Medusa spell had a ninety percent chance of causing instant death. Though they could very well be marching to their deaths, their resolve was greater than their fear, and this was exactly the kind of situation they had honed their fighting spirits and combat skills for.

At the base of Fear Mountain, they were intercepted by a Witch army, who appeared to be the forces led by the Witch that kidnapped Silque, and openly introduced themselves as soldiers of the proud General Nuibaba. Their leader Marla fought on the front line to the very end, even as Delthea’s Aura spell dyed her army’s dark robes red with their own blood, one after the other.

Finally, Alm’s sword sliced Marla’s shoulder wide open.

“Sonya!” Marla screamed as she collapsed.

Alm assumed Sonya was the name of another Witch army general they would cross paths with and fight later.

-

Sonya, a Mage in Mila’s Restoration Army, had a magic soul bond with a certain person very important to her.

A sharp pain suddenly shot through her chest. “Marla!” She cried out in response, awaking her from her light but sound sleep.

Sonya’s eyes darted around and surveyed her surroundings, painted in the purple darkness of the moments just before dawn. The rest of the army did not stir even an inch in their sleep underneath the branches of the giant trees surrounding them. Relieved to see that her scream had not disturbed anyone else’s sleep, she stood up and left their campsite to wash the cold sweat off her face in the water nearby. The Archanean sisters’ three falcons all looked up to watch her walk away, instinctively worried by the fact that she was going somewhere alone.

Their riders had flown them several times around the nearby gorge, which was behind the Temple of Mila and cut through the forest that surrounded it. They knew that Dead Man’s Mire was nearby, territory of Jedah, leader of the Duma Faithful. Celica and the others had decided to wait until the sun was high in the sky to attack, and set up their camp near the edge of the forest.

The water flowing out of a crack in a nearby boulder felt good on Sonya’s cold sweat, and she wiped the back of her neck several times. The water flowed into a small, thin stream, and the small ripples appearing atop it were caused by her tears.

As a great and powerful Mage who had accomplished much all by herself, from mastering Excalibur to even temporarily taking the desert kingdom on the Zofian border as her own, it was not befitting of her at all to cry. She was hiding her face in her hands when someone knelt down next to her at the edge of the stream.

As her heart pounded in her chest, the person put a hand on her heaving shoulder from behind. It was Celica.

Sonya quickly stood and fixed herself up. “I apologize for disturbing your sleep.” She looked away from Celica.

“This isn’t like you.” Celica said. 

“There is nothing else more embarrassing for me than this.”  Sonya wiped the one remaining tear from her cheek.

Celica had heard her cry out in her sleep and followed after her, worried that she might be dreading today’s battle against Jedah. “Who is Marla?”

“She is a proud Witch who serves directly at Nuibaba’s side. He is the general of the Duma Faithful’s dark magic army.” Sonya answered. 

Celica could of course sense that was not the entire story. That alone could not be the reason for Sonya’s tears.

Sonya looked at Celica, her expression asking for more, even if she did not speak the words aloud. “And she is my now deceased sister. You are the general I have sworn to serve. I will tell you everything.” Sonya said before continuing, “I hate Jedah, the leader of the Duma Faithful. It is my greatest desire to kill him myself. It is also the sole reason why I asked to join your army. I hope you can understand that I have not always participated in your army because I believe Mila should be restored to her rightful place.

“I have two sisters. Marla is the oldest, I am the middle child, and Hestia is the youngest. I didn’t know for certain if they were alive or dead. But now I know that at least Marla was alive.”

For Sonya, the premonition she received of Marla’s death was proof that she had still been alive. And the cruelty of it explained to Celica the reason for Sonya’s tears. 

But her sisters were not Sonya’s only secret.

“Although I am now a grown woman who has given up on love and compassion, I still have my memories of the fleeting days I spent with my sisters as a child. But those are the only memories I have with them. I did not get to be a teenager, and they probably did not either. Because our father sold us to Duma. Our father sacrificed our souls to Duma in exchange for the position he coveted within the Duma Faithful.”

“My soul was impure because I hated my father so much, and so I was deemed unfit to be used as an offering, and was cast away from Duma’s altar. That was the best thing that could have happened to me. I swore to take revenge against our father that could sell my sisters’ souls so easily, and chose my path of becoming a lone Mage.”

Just before Sonya spoke the words aloud, Celica finally realized what she was getting at.

“My father, who sold his daughters to Duma… whom I hate more than anything… is Jedah himself.”

Sonya’s words made Celica look away.

Sonya was one of Jedah’s daughters, and he had sold her in exchange for his position as the leader of the Duma Faithful.

Celica was hit by a wave of deep emotions. ‘Did Jedah think of his daughters as nothing more than livestock? Or that if they loved their father, they would be more than happy to sacrifice themselves? If so, then what is a father truly supposed to be? What does that make us, who believe that fathers love their children unconditionally? We are all someone’s child. And we could become someone’s parent one day. Are we, as parents and children, going in circles, living in an illusion that tells us love is real?’

“He may be my father, but it is because he is my father that he is my enemy. I must be the one to kill him.”

As Sonya finished her story and a chill went down Celica’s spine, a voice echoed from within the cracked rock and the shadows of the sycamore trees. “And you have no doubts?”

The source of the voice appeared, wearing the robes of a member of the Mila Faithful. It was the Sage Nomah, leader of Novis’ priory. He was the teacher Celica completed her religious studies under, until she eventually transcended to Priestess. He was also the person to grant her permission to travel and find a way to save Mila.

Nomah was supposed to remain at Novis Priory, teaching other clergy Units. For him to be in a remote location like this, within the Duma Faithful’s territory no less, was an exception within an exception. However, for him to appear in person must mean he had a very serious reason to do so. Celica avoided asking him why he was so brazenly acting outside of his sacred position, and knelt down before him. Sonya followed suit.

“I will ask you once more.” Nomah said as he walked towards them with the support of his Sage’s staff, carved from the trunk of an old tree. “Sonya, do you have no doubts? Do you have no pleasant memories of him embracing you?”

“I do not.” She said without hesitation.

“Then take this.” Nomah handed Sonya, who was still kneeling, a ring. 

It was the Mage Ring. Mages are different from Units who wield physical weapons - their greatest specialty is their ability to attack from afar. The Mage Ring is a miraculous talisman that further extends the spellcasting range of whoever wears it. With it, Sonya could target Jedah no matter how large a wall of soldiers he surrounded himself with.

Though Sonya was a very strong Mage, Jedah’s position as leader of the Duma Faithful meant that he possessed even greater magical power. She had never known whether or not she could win against him, and her resolve to kill her father was nothing more than a wish. But Nomah’s gift allowed it to now become the duty fate bestowed upon her, that she must live her life to fulfill.

Some would say it was cruel, and yes, there really was nothing more cruel in the entire world. This could possibly be the first time she felt how inhumane it was for her to be attempting to kill her own father, as her hand was shaking when she took the ring. But once she had taken it, she became resolute in her decision, and cast aside all doubts. When she put the Mage Ring on her right middle finger, she did not hesitate. Then, she thanked Nomah and walked away.

“Celica,” Nomah said as they watched Sonya leave, “I have heard that Mila was sealed away within Falchion by Emperor Rudolf himself. I cannot comprehend how that could have happened.” He sat down on the cracked rock, keeping his staff upright by balancing it beneath his chin.

“Such a thing cannot be done so easily. He may be an emperor, but it is unprecedented that a god would become so weak that they could be sealed away at the hands of one Unit. Our current situation is so dire that it has shaken the very foundation that the Mila Faithful has been built upon for thousands of years.”

“But be that as it may, Mila is lost.” Celica said. She had seen everything with her own eyes. The lid of Mila’s crypt, smashed to pieces on the ground. Her physical body nowhere to be seen. And the priest Emperor Rudolf left alive to give her his message. 

“Everything you say is true. Mila has been sealed away by Emperor Rudolf. Celica,” Nomah sighed again. “I am worried that Mila herself wanted to be sealed away by Rudolf. I cannot shake the feeling that is what actually happened. It is the only way I can accept the fact that she was sealed within Falchion so easily. Everything that is happening… from the insurrection in Zofia, to the war between Rigel and Zofia that followed, to the holy war between us and the Duma Faithful, to Mila being sealed away and Duma achieving total domination… What if it is all not a wicked plot crafted by Duma, but instead a series of events Mila and Duma planned out together?”

“But what could they possibly hope to gain by doing so?” Celica asked. “Valentia is falling apart. Both the land itself and her soul. Sonya’s tragic decision is symbolic of that. The gods are the parents of all Valentians. What good could come out of making their children suffer?”

“That is what I do not know.” Nomah said. “And because I do not know, I came here to find out everything. May I join you in your travels, Celica? I promise I will not be a burden to you.”

She couldn’t imagine that he could ever become a burden. His spiritual powers were greater than ever in his old age, granting him the ability to cast Sagittae, a light magic spell even more powerful than Aura, making him stronger than any other Unit currently in her army.

[fnafsilvereyes]

Marla: I’m surrounded by simps.

Points at Carlton: You simp for a fake Charlie

Carlton: In my defence she was hot

Points at Jessica: You simp for Charlie and her brother

Jessica: Is that really a crime? Those twins are very attractive

Points at John: And you must be the biggest simp for Charlie I’ve ever seen.

John: I don’t mean to come across that way

Points at Charlie: And you… I don’t actually know if you simp for anyone

Charlie: That’s because I’m a master at hiding my emotions

[mudassirmyo]

dha lahore

A Comprehensive Guide to DHA Lahore

Lahore, the heart of Punjab, is known for its historical significance, vibrant culture, and modern real estate developments. Among the most prestigious areas in the city is the Defence Housing Authority (DHA) Lahore, which stands out as a symbol of luxury, security, and investment potential. Whether you're a local resident, a new homebuyer, or an investor, DHA Lahore offers opportunities that cater to all. Let’s dive into what makes DHA Lahore so special.

History of DHA Lahore

The inception of DHA Lahore dates back to the 1970s when it was initially conceived as a residential community primarily for retired military personnel. Over time, it evolved into one of the most sought-after residential and commercial areas for civilians and professionals alike. The involvement of the Pakistan Army in its development ensured that the housing authority upheld the highest standards of urban planning, infrastructure, and security.

Location and Accessibility

DHA Lahore is strategically located in the southern part of the city. Its proximity to Allama Iqbal International Airport, Ring Road, and major commercial hubs makes it an ideal place for those who desire both accessibility and exclusivity. Residents benefit from quick connections to Gulberg, Model Town, and downtown Lahore, allowing for seamless travel whether for work, shopping, or leisure.

Phases of DHA Lahore

DHA Lahore is divided into several phases, each with its own distinct characteristics.

Phase 1: The foundation of DHA, Phase 1, is one of the earliest and most well-established phases. It consists mainly of large residential plots and is characterized by mature infrastructure and green spaces.

Phase 2: With modern facilities and excellent urban planning, Phase 2 is known for its high-end properties and well-maintained public spaces.

Phase 3-7: These phases represent the gradual expansion of DHA and offer a mix of residential and commercial opportunities. Many areas in these phases are fully developed and have become desirable locations for new residents.

Phase 8-9: Considered the "new DHA," these phases offer state-of-the-art infrastructure, contemporary designs, and cutting-edge facilities. As development continues, these phases are fast becoming hotspots for new investments.

Master Planning and Infrastructure

DHA Lahore’s meticulous master planning ensures that all phases benefit from wide roads, extensive green belts, and underground utilities. The housing society takes pride in maintaining parks, recreational areas, and strict zoning laws to prevent overcrowding and maintain a serene environment.

Real Estate Market in DHA Lahore

When it comes to real estate, DHA Lahore is a goldmine for buyers and investors. Whether you are interested in residential properties such as villas, apartments, or plots, DHA offers a range of options to suit different preferences and budgets. The plot sizes typically range from 5 Marla to 2 Kanal, allowing buyers to choose according to their needs. Prices vary significantly depending on the phase and property size.

For those looking at commercial properties, DHA has ample opportunities for businesses with its well-planned commercial areas, ensuring a steady flow of customers and high returns on investment.

Lifestyle and Community Living

Living in DHA Lahore means more than just owning property. It’s about being part of a community that values quality of life. Residents enjoy well-maintained parks, community clubs, and sports facilities, such as DHA Sports Complexes, offering everything from tennis courts to swimming pools.

Educational Institutions in DHA Lahore

DHA is home to some of the most prestigious educational institutions in Lahore. Renowned schools like Lahore Grammar School and Beaconhouse School System have campuses spread across various phases, ensuring that children receive top-notch education within a short commute.

Healthcare Facilities in DHA Lahore

Access to medical services is another major perk for DHA residents. From general hospitals to specialized clinics, such as National Hospital, residents have access to excellent healthcare facilities that ensure their well-being.

Shopping, Dining, and Entertainment

When it comes to leisure and shopping, DHA Lahore doesn’t disappoint. Popular shopping destinations like Y Block Commercial Area and Packages Mall offer everything from high-end fashion to daily essentials. Dining options are abundant, with a variety of cafes, restaurants, and fast food outlets catering to different tastes.

Security and Safety

One of the biggest draws of DHA Lahore is its unmatched security. The entire area is gated, with 24/7 surveillance and patrols. DHA security works in tandem with local police to ensure a safe living environment, making it an ideal choice for families.

Environmental Initiatives

DHA Lahore is known for its commitment to sustainability. The community engages in several green initiatives, such as tree plantation campaigns and the development of green belts, ensuring that it remains a healthy and eco-friendly place to live.

Investment Opportunities in DHA Lahore

Investors have long been drawn to DHA Lahore because of its reputation for offering solid returns. As property values continue to rise, investing in DHA remains a smart choice for those looking to grow their wealth. From renting out properties to long-term sales, DHA offers plenty of opportunities for both small and large investors.

Challenges Faced by DHA Lahore

Like any rapidly growing area, DHA Lahore does face some challenges, such as traffic congestion in certain phases due to the growing population. However, the development of new roads and connections to the Lahore Ring Road is helping to alleviate these issues.

Future of DHA Lahore

Looking ahead, DHA Lahore has ambitious expansion plans. New phases are in the pipeline, and there is a strong focus on introducing more advanced infrastructure and green initiatives. The future of DHA Lahore looks promising, with ongoing projects ensuring it remains a top-tier housing society for years to come.

Conclusion

DHA Lahore has established itself as a premium residential and commercial area that combines luxury, security, and modern living. Its prime location, coupled with world-class infrastructure and a vibrant community, makes it an ideal choice for anyone looking to invest or settle in Lahore. As it continues to expand and evolve, DHA Lahore will remain a benchmark for urban living in Pakistan.

FAQs

What is the starting price of a house in DHA Lahore?

Prices for a house in DHA Lahore can start from PKR 2-3 crore for smaller properties and go up depending on the size and location.

How secure is DHA Lahore for families?

DHA Lahore is known for its top-notch security, with 24/7 surveillance, gated communities, and dedicated security teams ensuring a safe environment for families.

What is the difference between various phases of DHA Lahore?

Each phase in DHA varies in terms of development, pricing, and infrastructure, with newer phases offering more modern amenities while older phases provide a more established community.

[lunarsilkscreen]

Fight Club and Imposter Syndrome

Chewing the Fat; To chat in a leisurely and prolonged way.

"we were chewing the fat, telling stories about the old days"

"We were selling their own fat asses back them" -- Jack talking about his side hustle of making Soap from infectious human waste. (From a lipo suction clinic.)

[Paper Street Soap Company] A paper street is a road, or street that is included on a map, but was never built; or never intended to be built. Or; a fabricated address entirely.

This is where I'm going to take a logical leap, and apply some assumptions;

A Paper Street, in a fictional context is every street. Any street that exists in a book is therefore a "paper street". The soap they make from "fat" is the stories people tell about themselves; fact or fiction.

And the lady at the counter "This is the best soap I've ever seen." She was obviously a fan; but I've heard the phrase before... I may have even said something similar.

Durden: "Of course it is; because it's your fat ass lady."

Palahniuk/Fincher: "Of course it is; because it's your story."

This part is an ode to the story writing process. You collect stories; from newspapers, from people, from "chewing the Fat".

You then take that information; add a little *lie* to obfuscate certain details, you boil it out, and render the fat. Skim the tallow, mix a dash of sawdust (filler) with the glycerine in the right parts of the story and you have Nitroglycerin; the climax of the story.

"Anybody could do this job; we're just selling their own story back to them." - The duality of being a writer. Even a master writer (a master baiter) must feel this. Of course; they've done the work they transformed the source material, wherever they derive their inspiration from into something unrecognizable from the source.

But they still remember the very beginning;

"Yes. I'm selling some clothes." - Marla after stealing some clothes from a laundry mat to a pawn shop across the street.

Depicting the feeling of taking somebody else's image, and selling it for a profit; for other people to wear like used clothes bought from a consignment shop.

"This is a bridesmaid's dress, somebody loved this intensely for one day; then poof... I got it for a dollar." - That same Marla trying out other people's stories for herself; completely forgetting exactly how those clothes must've ended up in consignment...

The Good; Soap makes things clean.

The Bad; God Complex, Stealing

The Ugly; It's all lye.

Geddit? Because the first line in any writing is called "The Hook" so they're "Master Baiters"?