#militant-holy-knight

[strange-nights-of-stone]

Reminder to pray for @militant-holy-knight.

[quillfulwriter]

Look, Rhea is a tragic figure. I feel for her. Her trauma at the hands of Nemesis and the Agarthans is vast, and the slaughter in Zanado is completely unforgivable.

But until she's healed from that trauma and doesn't blame all of humanity for that nightmare, there's absolutely no reason she should be in charge of anything. Much less the very people she resents.

The Empire was created when the Church named Wilhelm its emperor, and the Kingdom is literally called the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus because it was founded by the Church as well. It's only by looking at the Alliance where you can see how the commoners especially feel about the Church's practices when they haven't been indoctrinated.

When the priest from The Eastern Church is trying to stress how they're different from the Central Church, he says:

Their church doesn't have an order of knights.

They don't believe in using force to chastise believers.

A noble house keeps order in their territory, and they have forbidden the use of any soldiers, even for self-defense.

You can reverse engineer these to describe how they see the Central Church in Leicester: Militant, violent towards its followers, and deceitful (claiming self-defense as a shield for its violent ways).

This is correct. The Church has a standing army and a school used to train child soldiers. It punishes criminals with execution more often than not. And it actively warps major events to make people see them in a certain light.

Yes, Rhea chose to keep the peace rather than openly hating humanity. That's not exactly a kindness when she 1) makes sure most people are reliant on the church for basic needs 2) restricts access to education based on who she can control (nobles vs. commoners) 3) bans advances in technology like the printing press so she can more easily prohibit the spread of knowledge and 4) creates clones and experiments on babies.

I understand she is traumatized. I understand she is in pain and trying to protect her people from another slaughter. But the simple fact is she's not even doing that well, because she's refused to heal. Everything she does against the Agarthans is basically whack-a-mole, and she only ever punishes who they manipulated.

Hubert found TWSD in 10 years! She's had centuries! I can't even say he's healed from his trauma to make that happen, but at least he directed it to something practical that got results. So no one would suffer like he had.

But Rhea? She's content to punish and oppress humanity for being manipulated by the Agarthans. Meanwhile, TWSD experiments on children too and the Church does nothing. When Lysithea and Edelgard are the sole survivors of murky circumstances, one would think that the Church would get involved. Even for aid. But no. They had their chance to make this right, and they chose to turn a blind eye.

I cannot rightly believe that she really cares about human beings when she treats the people most loyal to her so horribly. Even Seteth! She's telling Catherine to burn down a city with people inside in the Black Eagles route, she's never once tried to get anyone to teach Cyril to read and write (Seteth was the only one interested in doing that for him), and she hid all of her atrocities from Seteth because she knew that what she was doing was wrong.

Her compassion as the archbishop ultimately comes from a place of indoctrination and control. Understandable though it may be because of what she experienced, it's still wrong. And she shouldn't be in charge of anything because of that.

[owlbear33]

like Knights in Power Armour seems like a super common thing in sci-fi wargames, like dudes in vaguely pre-modern full-plate styled power armour that do the martial culture and melee weapons thing but the big thing is I've yet to see them do Knight properly they're always militant Holy orders off on crusade

where's my warrior aristocracy armed with the most expensive most effective personal arguments around, getting into stupid fights over real estate, transactional romance, and honour

[une-sanz-pluis]

Henry clearly did not enjoy his kingship. The gallant knight of the 1390s became in the following decade a sort of 'leper king'. For all his chivalric reputation and his real qualities of mind, he found himself diplomatically isolated and without the means to maintain an honourable court. He eschewed ceremonial display, and showed no inclination to maintain that carapace of regal splendour that Richard had assembled. His style of kingship doubtless reflected his personality and circumstances, including increasing financial stringency. It was also a political statement, an implicit contrast between Richard's lofty conception of monarchy and his own. It is particularly noteworthy that he neglected the sacral dimension of his kingship. Although he was the first king to be consecrated with the holy oil of St Thomas of Canterbury, he made surprisingly little of this fact. He discontinued Richard's participation in the liturgy at Westminster Abbey and his practice of regular crown-wearings. When he came to choose his burial-site a number of considerations militated against the royal mausoleum at Westminster. His decision to seek a resting-place at Canterbury close to the shrine of Thomas Becket, a national rather than a royal site, is perhaps his final testimony to his conception of his place in English history.

— Michael Bennett, “Henry of Bolingbroke and the Revolution of 1399”, Henry IV: The Establishment of the Regime, 1399-1406

[gatheredfates]

Tonberry - Tell a story of a time you were blinded by rancor! Is it still ongoing, did you act upon it, does it compel your actions?

Hi, my name is Sea, and I have a lot of thoughts about how utterly fucked up Ishgard is as a nation. I'm putting it under a readmore because there's a lot of dark topics involved (and I ranted a bit).

I've explored bits of it here, here and here, mostly through Elandervier's perspective, but when you actually look at the control enacted by the Holy See, perpetrated by members of the High Houses, it's honestly horrific. Here is a nation overseen by powerful factions ruled by men, in which those beneath them are granted power and prestige based on their politics, money and gender. If you are not rich, cunning or cruel, you will be fed straight into that war machine. Before the Warrior of Light, it didn't matter how 'good' you were or how hard you tried. Aymeric was a good man and still got a knife in his belly because there were people in Ishgard desperate to hang onto a world where a few powerful men held complete control. They wanted to keep doing whatever they wanted to populace so brainwashed by propaganda they didn't have time to see that the call coming from inside the house.

People see Garlemald as being the 'evil' militant faction and, while that is true, I think it comes at the cost of overlooking just how similar Ishgard was towards the dragons. In my opinion, there is so much environmental storytelling indicating young peasants were militarised and drafted into war whether they liked it or not — especially if they were hyur — and high society was strictly regulated to keep the status quo. Garlemald may have been upfront about its fascism but Ishgard has a lot of demons they still need to exorcise.

Both Elandervier and Alaice are products of that machine, and both deal with that in different ways. El is nothing if not rancor. She is the daughter of a middle-class house desperately trying to rid themselves of their Gelmorran roots, and her entire childhood was a lesson in abuse from a mother too frightened to break the machine if feeding her daughter to it make her more comfortable. She had to smile to lordling boys cruel to her because they were lordlings — because going against them was to be branded a heretic at best and a trip to the Brume at worst. At least those outside of Ishgard did not risk the Temple Knights enacting their 'justice' late at night because they were bored or looking for a bit of sport.

Her entire early life was a palatable pantomime. Smile like this, walk like that; why are you inspiring their ire, why are you cracking the porcelain? The well isn't fetid. The tart is sweet because there is sugar, just ignore the poison.

Because El wasn't originally from Ishgard she knew she'd never fit in, and the powers that be were happy to remind her if she thought to put a toe out of line. They called her strange and heckled her; they made fun of her and went out of her way to give her attention because they knew the result would be negative, even if their initial attentiveness was 'kind'. They knew they held all the power to rip what little comforts she had because they had the prestige and she had none, and they spared no effort to put her in place.

The difference is, El didn't want the prestige. She wanted to break the wheel. When they tried to take everything from her, she turned it on them and fled. Highborn fathers lost their pedigree sons born from pretty women offered to the machine and, though she knew others would take their place, she at least got hers.

The worst part was, even when she had established herself in Dravania, she still had people come after her. Sometimes they were mercenaries paid for by the high houses, sometimes they were the lords themselves... and sometimes they were women, children and peasants who equally left the city but had nowhere else to go. They learned of a witch in the northern bogs who practiced dark magic and figured their odds were better than the city that claimed to care and protect them. She'd have young girls fall at her door with wild eyes and swollen bellies because going back would be to face objectification and heresy for crimes committed onto them — not by them. The outrage was palatable, she wanted nothing than to rend them from the inside out, but she was one woman against an oligarchy.

It's an anger that is difficult for to put into words and cannot be levelled against a single person, even if she detests most highborn. El has the recognition that even those higher than her were at the mercy of those higher still, and she did not gain any luxuries by defecting. Yet it still influences her every action. She's compelled to violence and manipulation because they conditioned her to savour it. She makes herself malignant and unknowable because she's too traumatised to know who she really is. She might have escaped the machine but its teeth still mangled her limbs. It's hard to live with.

[uncleasriel]

Random silly AU idea: What if “She-Ra” took place in the Renaissance-era Holy Roman Empire and thus Catra and Adora grew up in a convent and were raised with the expectations of becoming nuns…only for Adora to run off to become a sapphic knight errant and Catra pursuing her?

Given how I can't speak truthfully of the kind of agency a Renissacne Holy Roman Empire Nun would have, I'm having a hard time envisioning Catra being a nun, let alone with carte blanche to hunt down her rogue Sister. As I understand it, being a nun is about being separate from the world in your convent or cloister. To have one nun leave it (abandoning her duty to God) seems like it would be something the order would condemn but no actively try and pursue - at most, I could see slandering the knight-errant's name (and possibly causing that to backfire as a she becomes a folk-hero?), but having [EDIT] as you described?

Perhaps it's a more militant, fictionalized order? Or the nuns do healing duties on knights after battles, and Catre still keeps running into Adora, and getting angry at her while tending her wounds? I just see Catra as so much more of a rebellious fighter, and I find that at odds with my conceptions of Catholic nuns.

[cast-you-dxwn]

Lore drop: Legio Angelica 778

There are seven hundred and seventy seven Legions of Trueborn Angels, beings created and brought up to be Heavens preeminent warriors, the Hosts fearless soldiers who stand in defense of Creation and the throne of The Lord Most High.

They are the most elite amongst all of Heavens militant orders, a single angelic Legionnaire capable of feats of combat unheard of in the mortal worlds most outlandish heroic tales, in fact some of those tales originate from mortal interpretation of a Legionnaires intervention in earthly matters

But with the population of earth increasing, the Faith spreading across the Levant, North Africa, the Mediterranean, and then Europe, more and more of the souls who passed through the gates were of a militant bent, men and women who spent their lives combating evil or at the least angered at the pain it has caused both themselves and those they loved.

In many cases they were not satisfied to enjoy the eternal bliss of Heavens streets, and clamored to join the angels they had long respected and revered in their endless war against the dark. Saint Michael, seeing the value in these souls, but worrying for their safety, approved their service in auxiliary roles, largely as support and logistical staff that would almost never see combat themselves.

But these mortals, people of passion, faith, and fire, wanted for a more active role in The Long War. These petitions were finally heard in 1185, when Baldwin IV, King of the Crusader State of Jerusalem, arrived in Heaven on the heels of many of his knights, cured of his leprosy that had plagued him for his entire mortal life.

Noting the restlessness of the mortal Auxiliaries as well as the extremely advanced technology that Heaven had at its disposal, the former king threw himself at The Praetors feet, bringing to him the proposal that he and many of the other great mortal heros had pieced together. A force made entirely of mortal souls, equipped with the strange and advanced technology of Heavens forges, a secondary order to reinforce the Trueborn Legions as needed, and they would be so often needed so that the Angels could focus their ire upon the more pressing enemies of Heaven.

Michael heard this proposition, and found it suitable, a less dangerous niche that would allow these humans to serve in a capacity that would satisfy them.

So the 778th Legion was formed, with Baldwin as its Legate, the first militant unit of Heaven to be populated by mortal souls.

The 778th are amongst the proudest of Heavens citizens, though they hail from many places and many times, they are united in faith and service, the unerring knowledge that they stand in defense of their fellow Saved and those upon the earth who have not set set foot in front of Saint Peter.

They are clad in the finest and most technologically advanced armor that Heavens Craftspeople can produce, augmenting their strength and reflexes to superhuman levels and powered by the sun fire of faith. They wield the most fearsome weaponry that the Holy Realms forges can produce, hand weapons that may rival the Trueborns own and firearms meant to piece apart creatures great and terrible which would normally make a mockery of mortal-crafted artillery.

They are also the most numerous of all of the militant units, consisting of many tens of thousands and growing in number with every Saved soul who cannot stand to simply bask in Heavens light while others upon earth continue to suffer.

[whatfordyouyearn]

I wrote a book! Support the Kickstarter here!

THE HERETIC PRINCE is a queer, trans and sapphic high fantasy YA novel about a runaway transmasculine prince who claims the crown to save his family- and the love of his life. Full summary below!

The first Mychal Halwood died ten years ago, and no one can ever find out.

A transmasculine prince, running from his destiny. A princess with forbidden magic, days away from being promised to the enemy. And the heir to the evangelist northern kingdom, starting to doubt…

Nearly a decade after wars across the borders gave the militant Priesthood the opportunity to occupy the kingdoms of the Triad, the sinister Godhead’s rule has affected everyone. For Mychal, a young squire in the Holy Army, it meant the deaths of his mother and brother, and the need to hide who he truly is. The Priesthood would kill him if they ever found out he was working for the Resistance, and not just because he and the missing princess are one and the same. But when his first love asks for help and his first battle ends in disaster, Mychal finds he has to go home– and take his brother’s place as heir to the throne.

The Heretic Prince tells Mychal’s story, as well as Samira, his childhood friend and first love hiding her outlawed powers in the wake of her betrothal to the Godhead, and Edris, the heir to the Priesthood’s closest allied kingdom who meets a handsome knight and begins to doubt his commitment to the Faith. As their paths intersect with each other's, they discover that Mychal and Samira’s love for each other might just be enough to topple an empire- and win their freedom to be together.

My name is Theo, I'm a transmasculine author and artist living in Cleveland, Ohio, and this project means the world to me! I grew up reading all kinds of fantasy stories, and I want to write ones I can see myself in. With your help, we can get this story out there, the first of a fantasy trilogy with queer, trans and sapphic heroes, for everyone out there who needs it.

Click the link below for project details and if you'd like to support, there are some great rewards for every donation level!

This project means the world to me and I'm so excited for more people to be a part of it now. The project is already 2% funded from the first few hours! Please share this post if you can!!

[luteknight]

THE WINGED TERROR. THE HOLY CRUSADER. ADAM'S CERBERUS . . . independent portrayal of lute from h.azbin h.otel, tweaked to my own preferences and exploring tidbits of original heaven lore. sideblog to voxistem. as deified by doll, she / her, 18+

𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄. lute. 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒. the high lieutenant of heaven's exorcist legions. 𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐒. valkyrie. adam's dog / adam's knight. the holy crusader. the winged terror. etc etc. and whatever dumb nicknames adam tacks on her. she loves them. 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐒. angel of the lord, exorcist division. 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑. angels are celestial beings. she chooses to present feminine. 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. bisexual, biromantic. fem preference. 𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. militant officer, a soldier for the kingdom of heaven.

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐒. pale, with defined musculature. white hair, previously long / now kept much shorter. a pair of white & black wings, reminiscent of a falcon / built for strength & soaring flight. golden eyes. black halo, like metal. ( in fallen verse: the valkyrie inspiration shifts to harpy. protruding horns like those of her helmet, only now they're real. claws. sharper teeth. ) 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. 5'5 f. 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐑𝐄. she tends to wear her militant garb even in downtime, though she might wear her training attire for simplicity's sake. her flaming angelic sword is always on her person, concealed within its sheath / in her downtime, it is disguised as a pendant she wears. 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌. tba. 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌/𝐒. emma frost (comic), dove cameron (live).

an exploration in . . . holy crusades. duty above all. every angel is terrifying. the monstrous feminine. finding religion in man. losing your faith. valkyries & sisterhood. the figures of joan of arc, antigone. i'm not a violent dog / i don't know why i bite.

visual reference sheet. character notes. all tba.

[twoiafart]

THE FAITH MILITANT Artwork by MV Renju

At the time of Aenys’s reign, the Faith Militant was made up of two military orders: the Noble and Puissant Order of the Warrior’s Sons, and the Poor Fellows. The former was the most illustrious, acting as the High Septon’s personal guard and army, and based at chapterhouses in cities and great towns. All members were knights, and most were men of high birth—younger sons of great houses of ancient lineage. Their sigil was the Warrior’s rainbow sword on black, and they wore cloaks and swordbelts striped in the colors of the rainbow. They were sometimes called the Swords, for their sigil.

The Poor Fellows were far more numerous, accepting members from all stations—even women—and were originally tasked with protecting travelers on pilgrimages to septs and other holy sites. Their sigil was a red seven-pointed star on white, said to have its origins in the bloody stars that Andal warriors carved on their chests in the earliest days of the Andal invasion of Westeros. They were sometimes called the Stars, for their sigil.

[asoiafandotherbooks]

TWOIAF/Fire & Blood: The Warrior's Sons and the Poor Fellows

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

Before we continue the post-Aenys era, we should have a spotlight on the main antagonists of the Aenys/Maegor era: the Faith of the Seven.

The Faith of the Seven’s military branch, the Faith Militant, was composed of two orders: the Noble and Puissant Order of the Warrior’s Sons, and the Poor Fellows.

The Warrior’s Sons, also known as the Swords, acted as the High Septon’s personal guard and army, and were based in chapterhouses in cities and towns. The members were all knights, and most were younger sons of great houses.

Their sigil was the Warrior’s rainbow sword on black, and they wore cloaks and swordbelts with rainbow stripes.

Were the Warrior’s Sons the inspiration for Renly Baratheon’s Kingsguard attire? Was this due to a suggestion from the Tyrells?

The Poor Fellows, also known as the Stars, were numerous as they accepted members from all stations, including women. Their original purpose was to protect travelers on pilgrimages to septs and other holy sites.

Are any non-Sept Faith of the Seven holy sites mentioned in the books? I can’t think of any.

The Poor Fellows sigil was a red seven-pointed star painted on white. The sigil originated in the bloody stars that Andal warriors carved on their chests during the Andal invasions of Westeros.

In modern times, the High Sparrow’s followers are carving the star on their foreheads.

In real world terms, the Warrior’s Sons would be the Crusaders/bishops of Westeros and the Poor Fellows would be the monks.

We left off with Westeros in a state of uproar with the High Septon fanning the flames by sending the Warrior’s Sons and the Poor Fellows to harass the population into following his edicts. The High Septon has gotten away with it as Aenys refuses to use his dragon to establish his authority. Visenya, who would use Vhagar to end this rebellion, was sent to her room by Aenys. The religious rebellion continues unabated at the time of Aenys’ death.

Up next, the King is dead. We need a king but who will it be?

[ursapolaris]

TereDio Secret Santa Exchange 2022

TITLE: To Love Him From Afar AUTHOR: Alicia Erjavec (ursapolaris) RATING: PG WORD COUNT: 2,587 WARNING(s): Canon Compliant, Training Session, Hanahaki Disease, Blood, Tragic Romance, Unrequited Love, Romance, Angst & Feels Galore, Open/Ambiguous Ending CHARACTER(s): Terence, Dion Lesage, brief mention of Sylvestre Lesage PAIRING(s): Terence/D. Lesage FIC SUMMARY: Sir Terence, after years of having his liege lord Dion by his side, is forced to hide the fact he has Hanahaki Disease after he starts coughing up flower petals. In spite of that, a part of him will never truly stop loving his dear crown prince. My gift as part of the @teredioxvi Secret Santa on Discord!

Terence’s intuition led him to believe that this would happen eventually; he had known ever since he first discovered such intense feelings. Although he never expected it to become such a hinderance after dealing with it for so long; what was worse of all, he experienced such an attack in front of the man he wished to never admit such a debilitating disease too.

It started with a simple training match, truly, that was all it was. While there was a training ground situated at the encampment grounds of the Holy Knights Dragoons, he knows that his prince often prefers locations that offer him the opportunity to clear his thoughts. Especially when he could have his dear friend and loyal retainer accompany him.

Despite such a relationship, it proved to be difficult for Terence to stay at his liege lord’s side at all times; with both of them having taken on more responsibilities as they matured from young boys in monastery school to teenagers in the Order of Chivalry— especially since Dion is of a much higher ranking than Terence, after all, the Dominant of Bahamut must be the one leading the charge to protect the Sabrequois peoples.

With that knowledge in mind, the times they are able to truly be together as merely friends and not comrades-in-arms is few and far between.

As such, on the rare occasion that they were given free time together, those moments were cherished very highly by Terence. And now that they are men in their own established and well-respected militant order, they were free of those restrictive bonds and are able to be by each others side like they were as children.

He feels a bit like an elderly due to how he was reminiscing about “their younger days” where their duties weren’t on such a grand scale as they are presently; even so… he was unable to deny how much he missed when he was allowed to be considered selfish.

Dion’s presence was a constant comfort, greedily leeching the radiating warmth of Greagor’s beloved progeny. The days when they would be able to spar until they were forced to return to their studies, testing each other’s skillset in friendly competitions that result in them laying in a puddle of pure exhaustion, laughing happily in spite of their aching muscles. He reminisces on having the courage to tease the prince until his entire face was colored in a lovely shade of rosy pink, eventually shoving Terence away in playful retaliation; the ability to run his fingers through those locks that were more golden that the rays of the setting sun, looking into those eyes that were richer than the sweetest syrup, seeing such a soft yet brilliant smile that was all earnest and eager— possibly even having the desire that they could be more than just… Oh Greagor.

In a normal situation, despite the prince being a Dominant, a session with Dion was as easy as being able to breathe. After years of doing so, they were able to float around each other as if they were two Dhalmekian dancers performing in unison. However, in that particular instance, Terence’s ears roared as if he were on a battlefield with Titan, and his chest burned as though he were swallowed in Phoenix’s flames. He could barely hear Dion’s shout of concern and a warm hand attempting to bring him back to his feet but it was just a hair too late.

“Terence!”

.

.

.

Originally it started as a mild tightness that he could simply brush off as a vague form of an illness one normally catches during the months Shiva’s snowy frost dusted the lands of Valisthea; regardless of him maintaining a daily routine of training and consuming nutritional meals, he wasn’t immune to such coughs and colds. With that he was able to keep such discomforts to himself, not wanting to worry his comrades over what could possibly be a trivial matter.

Unfortunately, Dion did not make it easy on him; for every time he turns the prince away whenever said pain became increasingly unbearable— chest constricting like he was ensnared by Leviathan the Lost upon seeing such a crestfallen face. He almost never argues with Terence, never trying to convince him to come anyhow or question why he chooses to stay behind, just wordlessly accepting the painful rejects when they arose; upon returning, the prince would check-in on his friend when allowed to make sure that he was being given the utmost care and attention by the physicians. Terence’s heart would swell with affection, flying high as if he were on the back of Bahamut’s wings at Dion’s unyielding devotion.

Time passes and that tight feeling had began to spread from his chest to his throat and mouth, his voice growing hoarse from the irritation. As much as he loathed being cooped up in his tents, he also didn’t want to risk infecting the rest of the military, or possibly even Dion, with whatever illness he was currently battling; even so, resigning himself with the hot tea and bedrest wasn’t currently healing him.

When he finally considered returning to the physician’s tent, the itch in the back of his throat suddenly builds and builds into something more than a simple irritation, as if his ailment had heard his thoughts. The young knight began sputtering and choking as something lodged itself in his throat from the inside, blocking windpipe and preventing him from drawing fresh breath. It takes several solid thumps to his chest before, with a violent hack, he finally coughs up the foreign object into his palms. He wasn’t rewarded any time to inspect what it was as the itchiness returned and he coughs yet another, and another, and another until his chest finally ceases its spasming.

While the scratch has dissipated and his chest doesn’t feel as tight as it has been for quite some time, it still hurt to breathe— his throat was raw as coarse paper and his lungs ached from the aftermath of such a fit. That was considering a blessing, no? Terence blinked away tears of pain and relief to look down at what it was he coughed up.

And now he is staring, bewildered, at the soft lavender flower petals that are sitting in his palms, stained with splashes of crimson.

Disgust, confusion, and even a sense of morbid fascination swirls together in the pits of his stomach in a deluge as he holds them up for closer inspection. There were ten petals all together, the tips curled upward as if they could gently bounce in the summers breeze. They are a much lighter purple than Drake’s Spine, even with that surprise they appeared vaguely similar to something Terence had seen before— then again, it might just be his flooded thoughts playing mind games with him. Outside of the obvious blood stains and saliva, the petals were shockingly dry and soft, deceptively appearing freshly plucked from a live blossom as opposed to being newly regurgitated.

Behind the coppery tang of fresh blood, the knight can also taste something faintly sweet on his tongue, almost reminding me of the fluffiest and creamiest whip that Dion adores so very much, the ones that he could find in puffed Sanbrequois pastries— wait.

No.

This cannot be.

But they were… what?

His thoughts scattered and swarmed his mind like the gale force of Garuda as he wondered why, just, why, did he just spit up Wyvern Tails? At least… he assumed they were Wyvern Tails based how he had seen the accursed flower splayed on Dion’s attire like Branded bonds, enslaving the prince to the harshest demands presented to someone so young and compassionate at the hands of a greedy parental figure— his stomach wouldn’t allow him to dare call Sylvestre a true father to Dion. Though he would never say this the prince’s face, lest he would get a tongue lashing that could rival Odin’s Zantetsuken.

But enough of that.

Something about his current situation bothers Terence— disregarding the whole “coughing bloody flower petals” bit, obviously. This somehow felt familiar, like a story he had read once before, and then it clicks— he had in fact read about this.

While he would not consider himself a bookworm like Dion, the knight is familiar with many forms of literature across Valithesa thanks in large part to his tutors such as Master Harpocrates, but also because Terence wanted to retain as much knowledge as he could so he can aid Dion in whatever challenge he would charge towards. It didn’t appear in medical textbooks for many believed it to be a niche trope in novels filled with romance and temporary angst, but it seems as though he was proven wrong with that assumption.

The Blooming Death.

It referred to many instances of flowers budding along the body, yet it appears he was suffering from its laryngeal form although it could also form in the lungs and trachea. The main symptom aside from the bloody petals is being in the throngs of unrequited love.

They say that fiction can always be borrowed from reality, so if this proves that the disease is real, and Terence is currently afflicted with it… then his fears had come true at last.

Dion Lesage isn’t in love with him. Not in the same manner, at least.

Upon realizing such heartbreak, Terence wished he could burst into tears, but at the same time, he is strangely comforted by such a revelation; for now he knows the answer is definitively “no.”

And— And that’s perfectly okay.

He could live with that. Make peace with his feelings being unreciprocated.

All that matters is Dion being happy… even if such happiness didn’t include a permanent spot in Dion’s life. More than friends. More than comrades-in-arms. It was always meant to be more.

Crumpling the petals in his hand, Terence exits his tent and throws them into the wind, watching wistfully as a passing breeze sweeps them away.

He shall keep such a condition to himself, he decides. Telling the others about it would mean he had to explain what Blooming Death is, and that would lead to him having to explain his feelings for Dion, and that could possibly lead to complications that he would rather not deal with.

But now time is ticking. In some instances of the Blooming Death, if one doesn’t have their feelings reciprocated within a certain timespan, they eventually succumb to their disease; however in others they can be cured with an invasive procedure that has been considered risky, possibly leading to death in the same manner as the removal of a Branded mark.

He doesn’t know how much he has left, but until the moment he ascends to Greagor’s Paradise in the arms of the one who will never love him back, he will deal with it on his own.

He will be fine.

.

.

.

“Terence!”

The knight doesn’t hear Dion rushing to his side due to his coughing fit. He could feel the petals of the mysteriously colored Wyvern Tail fluttering up his throat which makes him wish he could cough them up to remove such a sensation from his throat. Yet he does not, for he doesn’t wish for Dion to see such a display of lovestruck weakness, especially when he has painfully (in a literal sense) accepted that the prince will never reciprocate. His eyes and airways sting as he can feel his lungs quaking while subtle coughs escaping his lips, gloves staining themselves crimson.

But bless Greagor’s name, no petals were laying on the silvery metal as he quickly wipes them on the grassy field underneath his legs. Dion now beside him, panting hard from exertion and panic, his lance thrown aside along with Terence’s sword.

“By the Goddess, Terence, are you alright?” he asks immediately upon catching his breath.

With one hand gripping at random weeds, his other viciously rubs at his eyes to wipe away the tears that currently blur his vision. Currently the only thing that wounds Terence is his pride, ears heating up with embarrassment at the series of events that just occurred. At least the only one to witness him is Dion, for if any of their Dragoons were here to see this, the knight feels he would never have this lived down.

“I’m fine, my prince, was merely surprised by your oncoming attack is all.” he tries to assure the prince while he fights down a blush. Surprised and humiliated, he internally hisses at himself.

Dion did not look convinced, brows still knit with concern. Now that his breathing has evened out somewhat, he speaks aloud.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Terence,” he starts. Terence winces, there was that lashing he was so afraid of receiving. However it seemed much softer in tone than what he used to with Dion. “But you’ve been able to swiftly dodge such an attack before, in fact, you have been able to counter every move I make up until today. In some instances you’re able to best me in mere minutes. Are you certain you’re alright? You’ve had that cough for quite sometime now and it seems much worse than before.”

Seemingly without hesitation, the prince gently cups Terence’s face with his lance-calloused hands and presses their foreheads together to check his temperature.

The sudden proximity and tender movements cause the knight’s blush in full force, and Dion could feel his entire face light up scarlet as his heart drums wildly against his chest. All of the thought he had been trying to suppress come rushing back to the forefront in his mind.

Terence is truly, and deeply, in love with Dion Lesage.

It would be incredibly easy to kiss him right now; to lean forward just enough to where their lips graze against each other innocently. It would be so easy, but Terence doesn’t. He can’t… because he is nothing more than a baby chocobo. Because this— the lasting friendship he has forged with Dion— is the greatest thing that has ever happened to him. But he knows that Dion doesn’t feel the same way, so why would he risk losing him as even a friend? The possibility of ruining such a thing scares Terence more than anything, even more than the idea of obtaining something more.

So, instead of closing the distance between them, he gently pushes Dion away. It only takes him a moment to compose himself before he turns to the prince with a forced smile.

“I thank you for your concern, my dear prince, but I really am alright.” He shakily got to his feet, grabbing his sword. “Now, shall we resume sparring?”

“Terence…” Dion mumbles, still looking unsure. His rough palms still lingering on his face. “Is that such a wise idea? Perhaps you should go to a physicker—”

“Dion,” Terence repeats more firmly, his smile growing strained. This time, despite the urge to fight back, the prince takes the hint and stops asking, hands dropping to his sides, but Terence has to tear his eyes away from Dion’s hurtful expression.

It’s all for the best, he tells himself. He continues to repeat this statement as Dion reaches for his lance to begin the sparring session once more and every moon afterward until he manages to convince himself that it was the truth.

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

An inkling of the Republican Party’s shocking underperformance in the midterms could be seen in a literal, not figurative, crusade. Allen West, former congressman and Texas Republican Party chairman, decided in September that the time was ripe to join the Knights Templar, the infamous sect of medieval soldier-monks. Photographed standing in a white robe emblazoned with a red cross draped jauntily over his tuxedo, West—a close ally of Donald Trump—tweeted that he had taken “an oath to protect the Christians in the Holy Land.”

The real Knights Templar, of course, were dissolved in 1312. The organization West joined is an American-based “chivalric order” that grants its members “knighthood” and, aside from its name, shares nothing with the actual Knights Templar.

West’s bizarre fascination with the imagery of medieval Europe does not exist in a vacuum: The right is getting weirder. That might begin to cost Republicans elections in years to come and undermine their own appeals to American patriotism in a way policy extremism alone could not. American voters see the political parties as equally extreme in policy, ignoring evidence that Republicans have moved right much faster than Democrats have moved left. However, a party fixated on genital sunning, seed oils, Catholic integralism, European aristocracy, and occultism can alienate voters not because of its positions but because of how it presents them—and itself. Among the right’s intellectual avant garde and media elites, there is a growing adoption of habits, aesthetics, and views that are not only out of step with America’s but are deliberately cultivated in opposition to a national majority that the new right holds in contempt.

This is a different—though parallel—phenomenon from the often raucous, conspiratorial personality cult that surrounds Donald Trump and his devoted base. This new turn has predominantly manifested among the upper-class and college-educated right wing. Indeed, as Democratic strategist David Shor noted, as those with college degrees become more left leaning, the remaining conservatives have gotten “really very weird.” In this well-off cohort, there exists a mirror of the excesses often attributed to the college-educated left, fairly or unfairly: an aversion to mainstream values and an extreme militancy.

The ascendant weird right will likely struggle to sell its deeply anti-patriotic vision to many voters. In these segments of the mostly young, online-influenced American right, the optimistic vision espoused by Ronald Reagan’s “morning in America” has been discarded. The elite educated right has moved even beyond the overt pessimism of Donald Trump’s “American carnage”—now disgust with equitable citizenship, personal liberty, and democratic self-governance is commonplace. Fed by an endless outrage cycle and a motivated and well-resourced donor class willing to pour money into increasingly reactionary think tanks like the avowedly anti-democratic Claremont Institute, right-wing thinkers and activists have begun to identify the foundational pillars of the United States itself with immorality and adopted a new fascination with medieval Catholicism and imported European extremisms. Today, the right has shed its American and conservative roots and seeks a radical shift—a national “refounding.” Indeed, leading right-wing intellectuals like John Daniel Davidson have said that “the conservative project has failed” and that people like them constitute the educated vanguard of a “revolutionary moment.”

As we can now see—with even greater clarity—in the wake of the election, American voters respond poorly to a toxic brew of pessimism; the promise of radical cultural transformation; and the imposition of foreign ideas, values, and aesthetics. Nine in 10 Americans believe that being “truly American” involves respecting “American political institutions and laws,” the Public Religion Research Institute found last year. Americans consistently affirm that liberty, equality, and progress—the core values of republicanism and the Enlightenment—are ones they try to live by. While the content and meaning of those values have always been contested terrain, opposing them is a nonstarter.

The weird elite right risks losing these “normie” (as it calls them) Americans as it embraces what is fundamentally a niche subculture. The toxic far-right ideas that percolate in online youth communities and among cloistered college-educated young Republicans have not remained there—increasingly they have spilled out to influence policy and may have been deciding factors in close races this year.

John Gibbs, a Republican nominee for a Michigan swing seat, founded a think tank that argued for overturning the Nineteenth Amendment, which gave women the right to vote. The country, he said, had “suffered” from women’s suffrage. He narrowly lost his bid. Blake Masters and J.D. Vance—two Republican candidates for Senate funded in part by tech billionaire and new-right linchpin Peter Thiel—have embraced new-right ideas and actively courted the “weird right.” Vance has questioned whether women should leave violent marriages; Masters has praised domestic terrorist Theodore Kaczynski’s infamous manifesto, argued against legal access to contraception, and openly said that democracy is a smokescreen for the masses “stealing certain kinds of goods and redistributing them as they see fit.” (Americans on balance like democracy; legal contraception is almost universally popular; and Kaczynski’s unpopularity is so widely assumed that pollsters rarely ask about him.) Masters, perhaps unsurprisingly, lost his bid to unseat Mark Kelly, and Vance badly underperformed in his blood-red home state.

The most outwardly visible element of the extremely online weird right is its often nonsensical lifestyle and consumption habits. The subculture has not only embraced vaccine hesitancy—once primarily a creature of the left—but also fringe health and dietary practices that recall the wildest excesses of 1960s new age spiritualism. The claims are varied and, to differing degrees, absurd: Real men don’t eat soybeans; seed oils are dangerous; meat substitutes will turn men into women and also are made from bugs (they aren’t); the best diet is all-meat. This is no mere online phenomenon: Representative Robbie Jackson of Texas has stated that if one eats artificially cultured meat, “you’ll turn into a SOCIALIST DEMOCRAT.”

These trends are partly the result of declining social trust among conservatives. Loss of trust, in this case, manifests as hardening the body as a site of personal control. Health, arguably, is not the point—rather, expressing gender identity is. This is certainly true of “testicular tanning,” the belief that exposing the testicles to direct sunlight boosts testosterone (and therefore “manliness”), an idea that blends pseudoscience, tantric spiritualism, and self-help. Even this has not remained confined to the internet: Tucker Carlson has discussed it seriously.

Perhaps the most pernicious element of right-wing weirdness occurs at the intersection of standard traditionalist opposition to equal gender roles and an online youth subculture that has sought to make women’s disempowerment trendy. The idea of the “trad wife”—women who embrace subservient roles as homemakers and mothers, eschewing political leadership and careers—stands, like many of the weird right’s shibboleths, at the crossroads of internet meme, sociological critique, and political program. Trad wives are a pastiche of the idyll of the 1950s housewife and the imagined premodern agrarian mother, realities that only fully existed in advertisements and storybooks. They usually espouse complete submissiveness to husbands and a totalizing dedication to raising children.

By removing women from the labor market and circumscribing women’s social roles, the movement offers the illusion of sanctuary from modern woes and economic demands. It goes beyond simply reacting to perceived leftist excesses and embraces a sociopolitical program that would, if enacted, essentially remove the ability of American women to determine the course of their own lives—making them, once again, primarily subservient to and dependent upon male breadwinners. Millions of Americans are stay-at-home parents; most would likely be ill suited to the trad wife’s world. The aesthetics of trad wives are intertwined with darker impulses on the activist right toward a state that legally mandates specific gender roles—a form of recontainment that traps women in marriages and bars them from basic autonomy and self-sufficiency.

Women’s and reproductive rights are areas where meme-infused weirdness and actual policy align to set the right against most American voters. When right-wing writers like National Review’s Nate Hochman argue that no-fault divorce was “a tragic mistake” (a view shared by numerous other far-right figures), he is not only embracing a position outside the bounds of conventional American life but one that is deeply politically unpopular, opposed by at least four-fifths of Americans. The activist right’s legal alternative is “covenant marriage,” which allows divorce only under extreme circumstances like felony conviction or child abuse. Covenant marriage has recently made its way into the Texas Republican Party’s official platform as a replacement for existing marriage law.

Trad wife aesthetics are partly a result of right-wing influencers’ embrace of traditionalist religious attitudes. The embrace of traditionalist Catholicism and the rise of integralists like Harvard Law School professor Adrian Vermeule—who espouses a quasi-theocracy that even the conservative stalwart George Will has said is “un-American”—are critical pieces of the aesthetic and moral revanchism now in vogue on the right.

The growing fascination with Catholicism—particularly sedevacantism, which denies the current pope’s legitimacy—is, according to one critic, indicative of the educated and activist right’s “admiration for the [European] aristocratic past” and a longing for a new elite to which it feels it belongs. This segment of the right has, both programmatically and aesthetically, lost interest in conserving that which is American and moved on to mine its influences from stranger sources. Constitutionalism, Enlightenment rationality, religious freedom, and republicanism are out. European aristocracy, crusading holy orders, and mysticism are in. Mr. West may still make the usual overtures to Americana in press releases, but the Knights Templar (so far as I know) never made it to Texas.

That idealization of the European right has led not just to the fetishization of historical monarchism—cheerled by figures like the reactionary thinker Curtis Yarvin—but to more immediate fascination with contemporary autocrats, especially Prime Minister Viktor Orbán of Hungary and President Vladimir Putin of Russia.

One such admirer is Nick Fuentes, a prominent activist among college Republicans and also a white supremacist and antisemite who has become cozy with some congressional Republicans. Fuentes has praised Putin’s invasion of Ukraine. “We continue to support czar Putin in the war effort,” Fuentes said, saying Putin would “liberate Ukraine from the Great Satan and from the evil empire in the world, which is the United States.” In this narrative, Putin’s invasion is a component of a broader war against American influence and democratic values—a goal shared by Orbán’s government, which has promoted “illiberal democracy,” decried “race-mixing,” crushed freedom of speech, and curtailed LGBTQ rights. Naturally, the Conservative Political Action Conference was held in Hungary earlier this year.

Among Americans more generally, the right-wing embrace of Putin is dismally unpopular: Just 6% U.S. adults have a positive opinion of the Russian president, the Pew Research Center found this year. Meanwhile, the “MAGACommunism” movement has combined American nationalism with praise for another authoritarian leader despised by most Americans, China’s Xi Jinping.

Alienating mainstream voters by embracing fringe values and off-putting aesthetics is not a new folly—on the left or the right. In the early twentieth century, French voters regularly elected left-leaning governments despite numerous crises that beset the nation. One socialist essayist, Charles Péguy, argued that the right was actually “far less conservative” than the left—while the right pushed radical transformation, reorganizing France around the Catholic Church and reestablishing a powerful monarchy, the left—in Péguy’s view—sought to preserve hard-fought but deeply held French values like the separation of church and state, equitable citizenship, and republican liberty.

In the U.S., the “cultural left” of the late twentieth century managed to alienate many voters through its pessimistic belief that America could not be reformed by material policy, only transformed through a shift in social consciousness. As the philosopher Richard Rorty wrote in Achieving Our Country, while a reformist left gained popularity with a multiracial, multiclass electoral coalition in the early twentieth century by painting an optimistic image of what America could be, the later—educated and mostly well-off—“cultural left” chose as its enemy “a mind-set rather than a set of economic arrangements,” removing itself from what voters actually cared about and instead defining itself by its cultural consumption and outlandish aesthetic preferences. The cultural left saw material political conditions as a downstream afterthought from culture and so tacitly abandoned both politics and culture—and got weird. The decades of backlash, from Richard Nixon to Ronald Reagan to George W. Bush, were inevitable.

While many Republicans are embracing the fringe cultural positions emerging from this radical and elite milieu, pushing the view that America is a degenerate society that cannot be saved, elements of the left may have learned their lesson. Eschewing what the writer Sam Adler-Bell has called “insular language that alienates those who haven’t stewed in the same activist cultural milieu,” some Democratic Socialists of America chapters have become more involved in recent unionization drives, fights for workers’ rights, and campaigns against monopolistic corporate power. It’s a focus not on posting but on materially supporting the working class—and embracing core American values to do it.

The right is learning the opposite lesson. Far-right YouTuber Paul Joseph Watson suggested in 2020 that the right is “the new punk rock.” But that may not be to the right wing’s electoral advantage. Subcultures, by their very nature, exclude or look down on the bulk of the public and tend not to win electoral power, a lesson the left learned the hard way. Far-right billionaires can pump money into New York film festivals and sceney parties, but in doing so, they are unlearning the language of American majoritarian values. Even as the left—in fits and starts—relearns normalcy, the right is abandoning it.

[ghoul-haunted]

I'm. Not. going to write fiction about the knights templar, but I do think more broadly that dissecting the kind of culture around medieval militant-monastic orders and a wider exploration of knights as a tool of imperialism and violence contrasting against their more modern reception based in chivalric romance tropes and the knight as an individual instead of what they actually were in reality is. Interesting.

also the way monastic vows are incredibly difficult to break, but when philip decided to curb stomp the templar order, you had a whole category of templar apostates, and some choosing this as a chance for escape from an order they might have been forced into, and others choosing to return to it later once the threat of Being Burned Alive was less immediate. something about all of that, and the original trials with philip forcing templars to denounce god, right next to the moral rigidity of their order's rules. like. the hard line stance about women feels somewhat. parallel to, and it's playing into a specific branch of religious misogyny, the way that the templar order discouraged even looking at women, and that one nun who walled herself up in a tomb for ten years so that men wouldnt have to see her and be tempted. or that other thing about rhetorical androgyny with men who take holy orders, that chastity is what brings you closer to the gender that more openly identifies you with the suffering of christ.

anyway, not going to write fiction about templars, I am going to look at the trends between templars, knights, and grail quest literature along side popular arthuriana tropes and tackle galahad head first into a lake

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 3.18 (before 1930)

37 – Roman Senate annuls Tiberius' will and proclaims Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus (aka Caligula = Little Boots) emperor. 1068 – An earthquake in the Levant and the Arabian Peninsula leaves up to 20,000 dead. 1229 – Frederick II, Holy Roman Emperor, declares himself King of Jerusalem in the Sixth Crusade. 1241 – First Mongol invasion of Poland: Mongols overwhelm Polish armies in Kraków in the Battle of Chmielnik and plunder the city. 1314 – Jacques de Molay, the 23rd and final Grand Master of the Knights Templar, is burned at the stake. 1438 – Albert II of Habsburg becomes King of the Romans. 1571 – Valletta is made the capital city of Malta. 1608 – Susenyos is formally crowned Emperor of Ethiopia. 1644 – The Third Anglo-Powhatan War begins in the Colony of Virginia. 1673 – English lord John Berkeley sold his half of New Jersey to the Quakers 1741 – New York governor George Clarke's complex at Fort George is burned in an arson attack, starting the New York Conspiracy of 1741. 1766 – American Revolution: The British Parliament repeals the Stamp Act. 1793 – The first modern republic in Germany, the Republic of Mainz, is declared by Andreas Joseph Hofmann. 1793 – Flanders Campaign of the French Revolution, Battle of Neerwinden. 1834 – Six farm labourers from Tolpuddle, Dorset, England are sentenced to be transported to Australia for forming a trade union. 1848 – The premiere of Fry's Leonora in Philadelphia is the first known performance of an grand opera by an American composer. 1848 – Revolutions of 1848: A rebellion arose in Milan which in five days of street fighting drove Marshal Radetzky and his Austrian soldiers from the city. 1865 – American Civil War: The Congress of the Confederate States adjourns for the last time. 1871 – Declaration of the Paris Commune; President of the French Republic, Adolphe Thiers, orders the evacuation of Paris. 1874 – The Hawaiian Kingdom signs a treaty with the United States granting exclusive trade rights. 1899 – Phoebe, a satellite of Saturn, becomes the first to be discovered with photographs, taken in August 1898, by William Henry Pickering. 1901 – The Kumasi Mutiny of 1901 begins. 1902 – Macario Sakay issues Presidential Order No. 1 of his Tagalog Republic. 1913 – King George I of Greece is assassinated in the recently liberated city of Thessaloniki. 1915 – World War I: During the Battle of Gallipoli, three battleships are sunk during a failed British and French naval attack on the Dardanelles. 1921 – The second Peace of Riga is signed between Poland and the Soviet Union. 1921 – The Kronstadt rebellion is suppressed by the Red Army. 1921 – Mongolian Revolution of 1921: The Mongolian People's Army defeated local Chinese forces at Altanbulag, Selenge (then known as Maimachen). This battle was seen as the birthday of the People's Army and completed the expulsion of Chinese militants in Mongolia. 1922 – In India, Mohandas Gandhi is sentenced to six years in prison for civil disobedience, of which he serves only two. 1925 – The Tri-State Tornado hits the Midwestern states of Missouri, Illinois, and Indiana, killing 695 people.

[unsleepingtales]

Burrow’s End Episode Six Reactions! (And AP!)

Allow me to preface this by saying that my computer broke this week, I am doing all my schoolwork and real job work on my cellphone right now, and the following is transcribed from the reactions I wrote down in a real physical notebook while watching the episode on my phone.

If you’re wondering how I wrote emojis in my notebook. The small drawings are very bad. Onwards!

BUT SHE’S DEAD 💀

Some sort of mutation going on w/the giant thing?

Diversity Win! The threatening First Stoat uses they/them pronouns!

Bennett :D

She does tai chi 😎

Oh the twins! (So fun bc one of the main groups in my current home game is Also called the Twins)

Is this a dept head meeting or smth?

That’s. Creepy.

Ok.

OOP-

Blow up his spot lmaooo

I’m living for Brennan’s reality check analogies

Human ish teeth?

Erika Ishii I love you ❤️

Aabria the character voice you are doing for Kiran is Hot.

I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE???

I need Bennett to not be a bad guy ok? I need it.

What are you saying man

Brennan’s just Dying

That was pure Erika oh my god

Oh she’s full of it alright!

(‘Keep going’) oh Izzy <3

Y’know what if I was on the team to renter a nuclear power plant that had a reactor failure and I saw thousands of militant stoats I think I would just leave. Let them have it.

On the what, Ava?

Yeah no especially if those stoats were using the fucking nuclear power?? I’d just leave.

At least she remembers their hallway is blue.

I’m curious if everyone switching so quickly from calling it Blue to Light is a DnD/Improv/Adaptation thing or a characters assimilating thing? Maybe both? Maybe it’s conscious maybe not?

I’m still thinking about how smooth Aabria’s “Weap-Technology” was when introducing the departments

He’s not asking you to run. He’s asking you to stay.

I’m glad Aabria keeps pushing back when they read negative or nefarious intentions into things that one the face of it truly are just typical to this kind of situation and society

The family vibes are So correct.

Horrible. I hated that.

The most it’s possible to be.

Yeah, okay.

KIDS.

Oh god. Oh no.

Good GOD Tula

The SIDE EYE on that Jesus

Muahahahaha

Oh NO.

That went on for so long

I am Unnerved.

Hell Yes babe

GET HIS ASS I GUESS???

They’re like teenagers now right?

Well That was intense!

The casualness in Aabria’s asking for the stealth check while taking a sip. She does not give a fuck and I love her for it.

Check it out!

Do we not get to find out what happened to Ava with the Garage?

Oh that’s So creepy

MMHMM

I love Ava’s refusal to learn

YES THIEVES’ CANT MY BELOVED THIEVES’ CANT <3

I think what she said was “please help.” Which is different.

SIOBHAN.

Oh that’s gonna be merch.

The crack of noon is so true

THE COPPER PUN NICE ONE AABRIA

Ohohohohoho. The Dictator. Lovely.

🎶don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious🎶

Oh my GOD

Brennan of all people saying finally some action on this goddamn show

Also Brennan’s reactions to Izzy’s reactions… so funny to watch the face journeys happening at the table rn.

Love that for them

OH

A population support state 😭

Oh god oh fuck

MAP???

Oh holy fucking shit

I can’t wait to rewatch this on my computer so I can actually see and appreciate the detail. Oh my god.

Ooh the puzzle of it all is intriguing

“I’m gonna kill him.”

Jabroni <3

OOF.

Oh my god <3

That was really cool Brennan.

Ooh just noticed the dome!

Hey Brennan? That was really cool.

Everyone’s got Thoughts.

Oh yeah jump into the nuclear juice. Great.

Ava.

YES

Awwww

PUZZLE

Oh no

I need to get the build details of this map

Oh. My god.

HE WAS THERE THE WHOLE TIME

Knight to C4 😭

That’s a fucking human skull.

Oh what does That mean

Huzzah.

(Most dejected/exhausted huzzah of all time)

God the comedy we do get in this season is so so gooOH

Not the wisdom saves 😭

Izzy.

Sometimes the dice fell a STORY.

Yeah okay

Oh god

Oh Jasper

Oh the stress is insane. Losing Jaysohn would break this family.

This can’t be the end of the episode?

Oh ok

OH FOR FUCKS SAKE

I love when DMs get to play DnD

DAD ARM

Nice catch!

OH I did not register that that’s the fucking radiation hazard symbol

Everyone at that table is so close to tears

AVA AND THORNNNN

Thorn himself <3

DOME.

Oh FUCK.

Preview for next week reactions:

What the FUCK.

WOLF??

I love JWC oh my god.

Adventuring Party Reactions!

Oh they’re jokingly pissed at her lmao

Woooo chipotle

Erika <3

I gUeSs I MiSsEd HiM

Aabria.

Erika takes METHOD NOTES

I’m so glad I’m not the only one who went ‘diversity win!’

Brennan Lee “Animal Facts” Mulligan strikes again

Felt so happy about seeing the human skull.

Jasper that’s such a fascinating theory oh my god

The intense NY came out

Okay but after this season… CAN we get set tours?

Yeah I am so curious about the in-world justification for the giant stone puzzle on top of the reactor.

OKAY thank you Jasper and Aabria I am Also a big reactor in games and sometimes I worry about being disruptive

I wanna go back and figure out what noise he’s talking about

Voice actor things! (Happy SAG Deal day!!)

I love actors so much. They are all FRIENDS.