#never really used the 'drafts' feature before. now the drafts are brimming as I struggle to hold back the deluge.

[too-many-rooks]

Thomas Levin as David in 'Those who kill,' (2011).

This one is literally dad!Yassen doing the school run and picking Alex up from school.

(Yes, he is going to try and kill this little blonde boy bc he's jealous that their crime daddy who took him away from Russia to be educated prefers the kid, but doesn't that just make it even more Yassen coded?)

[tommybaholland]

complicated  

featuring: shinso 

this has been sitting in the drafts for a minute but since he’s reappeared in the anime, this seemed like the perfect time to finish writing it. this is a bit of an expansion on what i wrote for shinso in “what they’re insecure about in the relationship.” it’s not much but i think it’s an interesting concept and i hope you enjoy it!

“wow! you can really make people do whatever you want!”

“there’s a lot of villainous things you could do with that!”

“don’t brainwash us, okay?” 

he’s heard it all before. every person he meets, without a doubt, have something to say about his quirk. he’s used to it by now but that doesn’t mean he’s not bothered by it. frankly, shinso didn’t want to know what they thought. on the other hand, he was cynical. what could one say about it that didn’t sound like a backhanded compliment?  

he figured if people really thought his quirk was powerful, then he could train to be a hero and show that he can use it to help people. prove everyone wrong, especially those with more physical quirks who think he shouldn’t train in the hero course. 

there were only two people who seemed to want to fight for his dream. 

this first being mr. aizawa. of all people, the teacher of class 1A of the hero course wanted to help him. the teacher didn’t sugarcoat shinso’s performance at the sports festival. rather, he commented on shinso’s potential in the hero course, given that he could relate to the lack of a ‘flashy’ combat quirk. shinso had been training hard to use the capture weapon, his mind flashing back to what mr. aizawa said when he first received it. 

“using support items doesn’t make you helpless or handicapped. just like those who have physical quirks use them as extensions of their own bodies, you have to think of it as your own extension.”  

that was probably one of the only real compliments he had received. 

then there was you. 

he met you back when he started at ua in the general studies course. he never looked forward to starting somewhere new, especially in a course that he didn’t apply for in the first place. meeting new people was just one part of it. 

it’s not that you were different. you knew how to respect boundaries. you didn’t say anything about his quirk but even then, it didn’t really matter because this wasn’t the hero course. people still asked. he didn’t see the point. 

you paid him attention in other ways. you were just as observant as him and it had him wondering if that was part of your own quirk. even if he didn’t know you had noticed what he was doing, you always had something to say about it. something that wasn’t a backhanded compliment, like how he could make things or fix things easily or in creative ways.

that made him really start to think the world of you. yet he still so lucky that you were dating him. you made him believe that his destiny wasn’t set and it wasn’t too late to become a hero. the day he told you he was going to try to move into the hero course, you couldn’t be happier for him. 

“i was hoping you’d do that!” 

“yeah. it’s kinda crazy that it’s all happening.”

“that’s great, toshi. i’m so proud of you.” 

he felt warm from all your kindness and support. however, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling about you truly trusting him. he had been pretty transparent at this point about how he felt about other people and how he had been treated in the past. he was never looking for your sympathy but having you there to listen to him helped immensely. on the other hand, feeling this close to someone scared him. sometimes he wondered what would happen if he couldn’t control his quirk or something happens that compels him to do something bad to you or someone else. could he brainwash himself?

he sometimes wishes his feelings weren’t so complicated. 

“you trust me, right?” he asked, looking away. he knew the answer but he wanted to hear you say it.

“of course,” you replied without hesitation. “do you...think that i don’t?” 

“no, no. i just-- sometimes i feel like-- i don’t know.” he struggled to put it into words. or maybe he was just afraid of what would happen if he said it.

“what? what do you feel?”

he sighed. “i guess i just don’t trust myself very much and therefore i feel like you shouldn’t trust me even though you say you do.” 

“why shouldn’t i trust you?”

“i don’t know. i’ve just been thinking about training to be a hero and what if my quirk-- and it-- and something happens to you?” 

you nod in understanding. “i need you to do something that may help.”

“hm?”

“i want you to brainwash me, hitoshi.”

he looks over to you, incredulity written all over his face. 

“no. i can’t do that.”

he’s never used his quirk on any of his loved ones, the few that he has anyway. you were especially someone who he’d never want to control. it didn’t feel right to him. 

“that’s why i’m not asking you,” you reply bluntly. “i think you need to see how much i trust you but more importantly how much you trust yourself.” 

he was still in disbelief. “how do you know that this will help? what if it just causes more problems?”

“we’ll just have to see. but i know you wouldn’t do anything you’d regret.”

was this really something he had to do? this seemed so complicated. it was just another reason why he wonders how he was given this quirk. but you were right. it was already causing him doubt and mental block. something had to be done if he was planning to be a hero one day. 

he lets out one final sigh and nods. “okay.”

you grinned at him. “ready whenever you are.”

he heeds your words as the condition is met. in a split second your eyes go blank, leaving nothing but a vacant expression on your face, signaling that his quirk had you successfully in his mental hold. you sat there silently, waiting for a command. you were also very still, which surprised him a little. 

obviously, if he were using it on an unexpecting target, they’d be trying to fight it. even though you were voluntarily wanting to be brainwashed, he can’t imagine that it’s the most comfortable feeling in the world. he sat in silence with you for a few moments before speaking, his quirk still activated. 

“you can still hear me under my control but you can’t respond.”

another beat of silence as if he were expecting you to answer or nod. 

“come here.”

still under his control, you move closer to sit right next to him. he looks at your blank face, brushing some hair off your forehead before releasing you from his quirk. the beautiful color of your eyes returns, a slight gasp leaving your lips as you regain control of your own head. 

you grab the hand that’s caressing the side of your head looking down at it before your eyes meet curious purple ones. 

“are you okay?”

you nodded, the familiar grin returning on your face. 

“are you?” you returned as you leaned closer to him, your arms wrapping around his neck. 

he mimicked your response and nodded as his gaze shifted from your eyes to your lips. his arms wrapped around you as your lips connected in a slow, passionate kiss. 

it was emotional for you. hearing that he’s been hurt by all these thoughts and hoping that he would accept himself. you wondered if it was enough.

he brushed your cheek when you pulled away. your glossy eyes looked back into his, smiling at his presence. he returned the smile, something that you were hoping you would see. 

“you’re a good guy, toshi. you deserve to know that and everyone deserves to see that when you become a great hero.” 

that was the second time he had heard a genuine compliment. it wasn’t necessarily about his quirk but to him it was. 

“thank you, kitten,” he replied, hugging you tightly. he felt warm again but it felt like it was filling him to the brim. 

“i think i love you. a lot.” 

that was when your tears finally fell. 

out of everything in his life, you were the most uncomplicated. he had tangible feelings for you and they were something worth fighting for. he’s heard before that unconditional love is hard to come by. he can finally relax when he realizes he doesn’t need conditions to love you.

time for another bnha night! shinso says send requests here..

[freedomscall-aa]

DRAGON AGE II

      THE CITY OF CHAINS, ACT I

Fleeing from the Grey Wardens following his allowance of Justice into his body and the bloody events that took place immediately afterwards, Anders takes refuge within the walls of Kirkwall among the hundreds of other Ferelden refugees who now call the city home after the yearlong Blight laid waste to townships and smaller hamlets. He establishes a small clinic in the filth and crime ridden under city, Darktown, where he offers his talents as a healer near free of charge to suffering, displaced families and individuals. Through rumors his prior association with the Grey Wardens and the maps he carried with him eventually becomes a topic of interest to a fellow Ferelden and their growing gang of misfits.

This verse takes place during the events of the game's first act and thus encompasses Anders' first encounter with Hawke, the death of Karl, the trek into the Deep Roads, etc. The default state of this verse leans towards a friendship path with Hawke, but will be adjusted as needed.

      THE CITY OF CHAINS, ACT II

Three years out from the Dark Roads expedition Anders has found his connections to the now wealthy Hawke and their associates something akin to a gift from the Maker himself in various ways. Life is now somewhat easier with the support of those in the group he considers himself friends with, though the mage's personality is forever changed by the death of Karl all those years ago. Over time he has developed a propensity to further isolate himself when not following the call of Hawke and has been known to display forms of increasingly paranoid behavior by those he comes into close contact with. Despite this, Anders further commits himself to tending to refugees when not out and about with Hawke. In turn, he trusts their loyalty to protect knowledge of his whereabouts from Templars who've caught wind of his activities. Their protection is a small blessing in and of itself, as Justice's, now Vengeance's, strength has further manifested itself with his body-- Anders now finding it increasingly difficult to control himself from causing harm when face to face with those within the Templar Order. Overly sympathetic to the the plight of the mages imprisoned within the Kirkwall's Circle now more than ever, the blond has begun to dedicate himself to pursuing a feat he once considered madness before his merger with Justice-- the separation of the Circle from the Chantry. In-between his time spent with patients within the clinic and Hawke's adventures, Anders begins writing the first draft of what would become his manifesto and finds himself becoming involved in a small resistance group of like minded apostates to help ferry runaway mages out of the city.

This verse encompasses the whole of act two and the three prior mentioned years following Hawke's expedition in the Deep Roads. The default state for this verse assumes Anders begins the act on a full friendship path with a Hawke that has flirted with him, then after Leandra’s death said Hawke quickly swings towards a semi-rival in the later half, leaving Anders heartbroken. In this verse Anders is ultimately able to regain control of himself from Vengeance to prevent the death of the female mage in his companion quest, Dissent.

      THE CITY OF CHAINS, ACT III

Another three years pass, the time spent with the mage finding himself at constant odds with himself. His inner struggles with Vengeance are a day to day activity, Anders for a period of time devoid of all interest in the plight of his fellow mage due to seeing himself as nothing but an abomination after almost losing himself completely to Vengeance's urge to kill a young mage some years ago. He has become further withdrawn with his attempts to regain control over the spirit inhabiting his body, a battle that he will ultimately lose in the end. As a consequence of this fight of control he has further developed traits that reflect the current state of his mentality-- prone to increasingly wild mood swings ranging from fits of melancholy to purely manic phases of determination to channeling his bitingly vicious anger at whoever is unfortunate enough to be at the opposite end of his staff during his excursions with Hawke and company. To further this issue, he has begun to suffer lapses in memory when not out with the Champion; often finding himself in locations he has no recollection of traveling to and regularly discovering he is missing large gaps of time out of his day to day activities. To those who he considers himself closest to it is obvious that he's begun planning something, though what and if it is Anders himself in control of the process is unknown.

This verse features Anders at his worse, markedly mentally ill with no feasible way out of act three's inevitable conclusion. His relationships with Hawke and the rest of the gang are heavily strained and the default state of this verse assumes him to be a full rival path with a Hawke who, despite being heavily traumatized by what happened to their mother, ultimately sides with the Mages. You all know how it ends, so I imagine I don't have to say much more.

DRAGON AGE: INQUISITION

      WHAT VENGEANCE HAS WROUGHT

THIS VERSE WILL EVENTUALLY BE REVAMPED TO ADD EASIER INTERATIONS FOR INQUISTION BASED MUSES, BUT MOST OF WHAT IS HERE IS STILL ACCURATE. FOR A SNEAK PEEK REGARDING WHAT I’M PLANNING TO DO, SEE THIS POST.

Hawke should have killed him, is what Anders used to tell himself frequently before finally settling in his guilt--- mind rife in his knowledge that, despite it all, he would do it again in a heartbeat. There were no other options, despite his regrets, the blond’s actions a year later inciting a rebellion the likes of which hasn’t been seen in centuries.

Vengeance is sated, frequently quiet-- leaving the mage with nothing but his own thoughts for the first time in nearly eight years. Yet, in the scant moments where the spirit’s thoughts invade his own they’ve begun to slowly resemble those of the friend he once he had. He is full to the brim with anxieties, abandoned by those he called friends in the wake of his actions in Kirkwall and unwanted by the very mages he sought to free. Once again a lone apostate, or more accurately: a wanted abomination, Anders travels familiar lands following the path of the war his actions served as the catalyst for. Supposed sightings place him all over the world, the blond on the very rarest occasion finding some humor in the fact that he can apparently now be in several locations at once. If only it was so simple all those years ago when he was just a boy trying to get back home to his mother.

These days he finds himself like he did back in Kirkwall before everything came to a head, offering his healing services to refugee camps before moving on lest someone figures out who he really is. It stings, however, when even more non-mages refuse his aid-- perception of mages further tainted by the war. In between camps he lives a rather bare bones existence, sequestering himself away in the forests that dot his path to a place unknown before the Templar army or, worse, the Inquisition can find him-- all the while ignoring the cruelest of siren calls, one he recognizes well from his time with Hawke within an old Grey Warden prison so many years ago.

      WHAT LOVE HAS SACRIFICED

IM GONNA REVAMP THIS EVENTUALLY SO LIKE A LOT OF THIS DOESN’T APPLY ANYMORE, SORRY Hawke should have killed him, is what Anders tells himself frequently. Instead, however, they sheltered him-- from Kirkwall, from the Templars, from the world when the results of Vengeance's, of HIS actions boiled over and sparked a war. In fact, Anders could go so far to say that they sacrificed everything they had earned over that decade in Kirkwall for him. He's not sure how they tolerate him these days, awash in guilt as Vengeance whispers in his mind that Hawke is holding them back from joining the Mages’ in their fight against their centuries long oppressors. That Hawke covertly wants to sedate him, control him, lock him away, suffocate him--- The angry insistence of a spirit that is no longer his friend. Anders has worked for years to stifle the spirit's control over him and for once he finally feels as though he's winning, only at the cost of the world and everything else he held dear. His struggle is something Hawke knows, but he is, however, sure they think him insane, which is fair, and still something of a threat regardless of their feelings for him or his claim of control. Anders thinks himself completely mad these days too, especially when Vengeance falls momentarily silent and the blond is left with his own thoughts. Thus, it was no surprise when the day Hawke informed him that they’re leaving came. But what came after, however, was. Not that they’re leaving him, but that instead they’re leaving their makeshift home, together, following the call of an old friend who has seemed to find themselves involved in the Inquisition.

DRAGON AGE: ORIGINS, AWAKENING

VIGIL’S KEEP

twenty nine year old man loves a tiny kitten to death, the verse u//c, obviously

KINLOCH HOLD

actual baby twenty-something has to pretend that everything is okay after losing his bf for almost another decade all while silently plotting his next and greatest escape before getting chucked into solitary for a year. u//c, obviously

GREY WARDEN // UNPOSSESSED

A purely self indulgent verse to explore the what ifs if Anders had never ran away from the Grey Wardens. By default this verse assumes that by not merging with Justice, Kristoff's body eventually was unable to function and Anders instead helped him return to the Fade, despite how he would have otherwise been willing to go through with other plans if not for Rolan's presence when the moment finally came. I'm willing to adjust this verse's default assumption of what happens to Justice as needed to other character's verses where they instead become the spirit's host.

This verse extends through the same period of time as Dragon Age 2 onwards and certain events in it might put him in Kirkwall or Inquisition locations at various points in time. In this situation, Anders ultimately avoided possession by his friend, a spirit of Justice--- the blond finding himself unwilling to go through with such a thing while both mage and spirit were under then constant watch of a former Templar that was allowed into the Order shortly after the Warden Commander had moved on. Hesitant and suspicious of the fact that both of them were constantly given the same assignments with said former Templar by the Orlesian Wardens who outranked him ( and made him give up his cat ), Anders eventually sensed something was up. Mind rife with paranoia, he eventually deduced that Rolan was just waiting for him to make some small tiny mistake to justify outright killing him and, by extension, such a thing would also allow the Senior Wardens to wash their hands of the former apostate. 

Without melding himself with Justice, many of Anders' budding issues that the spirit would have otherwise taken issue to and attempt to correct only continued to grow through the years; the mage becoming something close to a functional alcoholic with a promiscuous streak that waxes and wanes in accordance to his moods and, ultimately, mental state. He is still an extremely skilled healer despite this, and, as the years past, has become expected to train both new mage and new non-mage wardens under him in the nuances of quick, messy field chirurgy and intermediate herbalism--- a role that he enjoys far more than he imagined he would.

INQUSITOR // HERALD OF ANDTRASTE

The Maker, if He does exist, certainly has a sense of humor. Or at least, this is what the mage grimly told himself when faced with the reality of the pulsing, agonizing wound upon his palm and the distrusting, angry faces that surrounded him once he woke. He had just wanted to see it, hope in his heart for the moment where the Divine sided with the mages--- wishful thinking for a man who had gone through all that he had. Yet, as with all things in his life: his wants never quite go to plan.

your typical ‘what-if’ verse, u//c

MODERN DAY

A licensed physician with a complicated past, and the mental illnesses to go along with it. Anders thinks he works best under the stress of the emergency department, though a part of him longs to settle into life as the owner of his own private clinic. A mundane man, with only _slightly_ eccentric interests ( an educated man, vaguely interested in the occult? ), who somehow managed to gather ( and keep! ) a gaggle of friends from all walks of life despite how ' depressing ‘ he can become at times.

mass effect? fallout? elder scrolls?

[shroomiething]

The Beginning of the Beginning

The sickly trail of ailing commoners stretched for acres outside the temple. With tapering marble towers and columns jutting over the edge of the sea, the castle’s walls were an inviting refuge from the fury of the hurricane.

A chilling wind bit through the crowd while curling waves smashed against the rocky beach nearby. The ocean was dark blue and frothing with foam. The storm howled closer, lashing at the sodden villagers as they shuffled in their miserable line. Sea spray doused the trail with every thunderous wave and weighed their dreary robes down; many of the ill were hunched over in exhaustion.

On the far side of the temple was a riot of thrashing bodies. Bricks shattered against the smooth stone walls, and torches blazed furiously in the icy wind. Soldiers in bright steel armor were holding the throng at bay, a wall of shields pressing back from the line of the ill. The screaming rioters hurled foul, outlandish words at the temple wall. Their eerie screeches echoed across the cliffside, a chorus begging for the destruction of what lied within. 

“Ghost! Demon!” The frenzied mob roared as they struggled to reach the great oaken doors. “Kill it! Kill the devil!”

Inside the temple, the air was quiet. The echoes of the fight reverberated through the air. The line led into a wide circular chamber. Adorned with tapestries and statues, a trail of steps lead  to a grand altar that gleamed with polished marble. Silver and gold etchings flashed in the firelight, faintly visible against the glossy stones.

 At the crest of the steps, a young girl knelt on the cold stone floor. Her head was bowed, and her face was obscured by a mane of wild black curls. The crowded line shuffled to the edge of the steps. One by one, the villagers were touched lightly on the forehead by the girl at the altar.

“Captain!” A guard burst through the far end of the line. His ill-fitting armor rattled on his person. Jerkily, he twisted his lopsided helm back into place. Water ran from his gear in rivulets as he approached the dais, his pants echoing through the chamber. “They’ve nearly reached the doors,” He gasped to the oldest guard; a withered codger with a thick velvet cape that brushed the floor. The old man held a tattered wide-brim hat in one hand, and a drawn dagger in the other. As the younger guard spoke, the old man shifted the hat into his other fist.

“We can’t hold them away from the line much longer. They’re after her again.” The guard dropped his voice to a furious hiss as he gestured to the lone girl on the altar. A malevolent glint flashed in his eye as he beheld her; the faint twist in his mouth was akin to a bitter snarl.

Defensively, the old guard snapped, “You think I don’t know that? They’ve come for the bitch before. We can hold them off again.”

“Sir, if I may…” The young guard adjusted the slipping strap of his loose armor. Shuffling his feet in obvious reluctance, he lowered his tone to a quiet whisper. “Is she really worth the trouble? Ever since we captured her, she’s brought us nothing but miserable fights like this. Not only that, but…” He paused. “You know what they say about her.” 

The old guard’s teeth flashed with his disgust. The hat in his fist rattled with a peculiar tinkling noise as he swung his fist towards the dais. Sneering, the codger growled, “That ain’t no demon or ghost. You’d have to be a moron to believe these local’s stupid legends. If she was a demon like they said, we’d already be dead, wouldn’t we? We’ve been campaigning with her for years now! And don’t forget about all the money she makes us!” He gave a furious shake of the hat, which procured a quiet chink chink. “You have some balls to come to me and spout this bullshit! After everything I’ve done for you, the life I’ve given you ungrateful brats…” Grinding his jaw, his milky blue eyes narrowed in disgust. “Stop whining and get back out to the line!”

With that, he shoved the other man’s helmet away, sending him stumbling down the steps. The man adjusted his helm once again before scurrying towards the direction of the doors.

The old guard’s shoulders dipped as the heavy door slammed shut. A hefty sigh escaped his cracked lips. He had kidnapped the girl, oh yes he had. Many moons ago it was. He could still see her mother, as fine as silky whiskey with eyes like orbs of gold. He remembered the woman’s dying breaths as he yanked her infant daughter from her arms. Those burning golden eyes, brimming with a thousand curses. 

“The gods… will bring you… your fate… I promise.” The seer gasped out. Her mane of curly hair was matted in blood. The old guard sneered down, for what was this but another victory? 

He couldn’t be certain of that anymore. Seventeen years later, and he lost a son by the day. The first was to scurvy, of all diseases. He hadn’t been brought overseas soon enough to be treated by his moneypot. The second died on the battlefield, right next to his old man. The third, the fourth, and the fifth, all were taken down by the most avoidable accidents that sent the old man’s head into peril at the mere memory. An infected sore from tripping on a rock. A trip over a wagon that ended in a split skull. Leaning too far over a well and slipping in… How could he have lost his eldest in that ridiculous of manners? The young guard’s words reverberated through his aged brain like the rhythm of a drum. Brings us nothing but trouble… A demon… Ghost… 

 A commoner climbing the stairs distracted him from his turbulent musingss. On trembling, unsteady legs, the man clambered the rest of the way on his hands and knees. The burly guards closed the line behind him by crossing their spears together.

Turning his attention to the sickly man, the old guard ordered, “Give thanks to our god, Orphgyes, with your honorful and selfless pittance.” An arrogant sneer had plastered across his leathery features as he held aloft the wide-brim hat. Inside the bowl, glittering coins lay nestled in the worn fabric like a king’s shining hoard. The sickly man’s eyes reflected the greed as he reluctantly lowered his fist into the hat. He released a cascade of small copper pennies that glinted in contrast to the blinding gold underneath. 

“Dearest Orphgyes, accept my pittance,” The sickly man murmured, a slight snarl bitterly hinting in his throat.

The man knelt in front of the healer. His skin was pale and glistening with sweat. Shaking violently, he lowered himself to a step below the young girl. His lips were blue, and his heavily shadowed eyes were sunken in. The weight of the healer’s gaze seemed to bore into him; he could feel a presence bearing down on him, almost as if two hot rays were burning into his forehead. Barely daring to lift his head, the man forced himself to look into the healer’s eyes.

The girl’s irises were liquid copper, glimmering in the light as metallic tears boiled down her cheeks. Around her eyes were darkened shadows of exhaustion. She was swaying on her knees as groggily as himself; one of her hands suddenly shot to the floor to steady herself. Her other hand trembled as it stretched towards the man. Her fingertips brushed against his forehead.

Like a shock, flickering warmth shot through the man from head to toe. His sunken eyes blinked as his skin brightened. The color returned to his features. Every ache and tremor in his sickly body had vanished; he felt born aknew. With hasty cries of happiness and gratitude, he was pulled from the girl, and the next ailing commoner was thrust forward. 

Dark metal casaded in rivulets down the girl’s face as she pressed her hands to the stone beneath her. The world was spinning. Vibrant, hot flashes of color burned in her vision, and her stomach churned as the effort of her healing threatened her with unconsciousness. Blinking rapidly, the girl struggled to recover before the next commoner stumbled up the steps and knelt before her. 

The healer clenched her hands to her gut. A wave of nausea rolled through her body, tightening into a knot in her throat. Through agony-dimmed vision, she glimpsed two steel boots stepping in front of her.

The world exploded with a fiery sting. The girl’s head jerked to the side. Violent tearing arced through the muscles in her neck; for several heart-wrenching moments, she thought her bones had snapped. Then the pain ebbed away, replaced with a throbbing across her right temple.

The guard captain had backhanded her across the face. 

The healer, swaying and dizzied from the blow, merely gritted her teeth together. This was not the worst injury he had given her; not by far. A backhand to the captured healer was like a mother’s gentle caress. She had withstood the guard’s torment for years now. A simple blow to the head was an expected norm. Focusing her energy, the healer willed the swiftly-forming bruise to fade away. 

This is what was expected of her, after all; to take their beatings, and heal the marks away as if it had never happened. But it had. And the entire chamber of clients had just been witness. 

The guard captain towered above, his face shiny with perspiration despite the chilly drafts. His shining steel armor had a velvet ribbon tied around the collar of his chest piece. On the velvet ribbon was pinned an elegant royal insignia that was marred with thick stains of red; a spoil of war. His round, distended belly protruded over her. He spat down at the healer, and it jostled with the movement. “Get yourself together. We have hundreds of patrons today. I won’t have you passing out on the job again; you’ve got work to do.” 

His demanding words did nothing to soothe the ever-present ache of nausea in her gut. The healer stared back, willing the bile in her stomach to rise in defiance. I’d like to see that snide look on your face when I pass out again, she thought. Who’s going to make your money then?

“But sir- shouldn’t you close the line?”

 A helmless guard-a girl with dark black hair- had approached the altar. 

“The  riot’s getting worse,” She continued. With a sidelong stare at the curly haired bundle on the floor, she added, “And I don’t think our healer can take much more, anyways. She looks ill.”

The nausea in the healer’s stomach twisted with dismay. From the way she darted her gaze between the healer and the captain, along with the fact she had no recollection of this stranger’s face, this was a new recruit. She obviously thought she was doing the healer a favor by standing up to the captain. This foolish, foolish girl! Didn’t she realize how sorely the healer would be punished for this? She wasn’t allowed sympathy. 

And as expected, the other guards chuckled with humorless laughter.  

“The girl’s been at this job since she was six,” A red-bearded guard scoffed. He had been part of the caravan for as long as she could remember. From the day she had met him, he had scorned, beat, and otherwise abused her with a hatred born from a religious upbringing. His yellow teeth bit the air as he gruesomely smiled. “If she couldn’t handle one long night, we would’ve sold her off years ago.” 

“There’s nothing to worry about, lady,” Smirked the guard captain. His milky blue eyes traced a perverted path down the new recruit’s body. 

The dark haired girl’s lip curled. “So, you mean to tell me she doesn’t look like she’ll pass out on the spot.” 

All eyes turned to the healer on the altar, who wished the floor would open up and send her body to the depths of hell. She wished this recruit-whoever this troublesome, clueless girl was- would shut her mouth and let her be. If she passed out, so be it. Now that the attention had been drawn to her fatigue, she had no doubt that she would continue to serve until she really had collapsed from exhaustion. 

“She’s fine,” The red bearded guard asserted. 

“She has words of her own,” Retorted the recruit. Without a pause, she turned to the altar, her eyebrows raised with an atypical authority. “How are you feeling?” She demanded, storming forward until the altar girl felt the need to shrink away. “Do you need a break?” 

She would’ve loved to lie, if only to prolong the secret punishment she was certain to receive later. Even now, she could see guards’ jaws clenching, see the grips on their cruel whips tightening. She opened her mouth to deliver the lie. 

Only in that instant, a small voice; a familiar, meddlesome whisper, mused in her mind that if she were to play into her fatigue, some miracle may happen. This new recruit would protect her. That’s nonsense, argued the other voice of her mind. Surely the other guards would turn up in the dead of night. 

Lie, said her mind. 

Tell the truth! Insisted the voice.

And she opened her mouth to speak. But before she could, a devastating crash echoed through the chambers, so loud and violent that it rattled her teeth. BOOM. An icy wind whistled through the castle in it’s wake.

“What the…” murmured the guards among themselves. 

The guard captain’s eyes darkened as he stated the obvious. “The riot must’ve broken through.” 

She had no idea, at the time, what this would mean for her. All she knew was that the guards were in trouble. And this, inspired by the new recruit’s savage disdain, sent her heart pounding with excitement. Something big was happening. Something was changing. 

“Get her out of here,” Growled the guard captain, fumbling with his sword and sheath. 

The new recruit reached her first. “Get up,” she snapped, but the sharpness of her voice was overridden with worry. Feeling as light as a feather, the healer shot to her feet. 

But as she did so, the world spun around her once again. Nausea swept over. The blackness in her vision was building, darkening the world around her until all she could see was the faintest glint of the fires. The blood roaring in her ears drowned out every other noise. She was slipping. 

There was a thundering in her head, pounding like the beat of a drum. What was that noise? Dimly, she left the cold ground lift away from her, and she could just register hands under her shoulders and legs. Someone had picked her up. 

“Take her behind those gates!” A voice, shouting with panic, was painfully loud in her ears. 

The howling of the mob grew closer until it was echoing within the temple itself. The roaring throng was pouring into the chambers like a flood, bricks smashing against the stone, and the thudding of feet drawing closer and closer. The riot burst through the oaken doors into the healing chamber, and the guards yelled and rushed to the entrance, the temple deteriorating into a frantic war zone. The healing girl heard the commotion from a distance, as if she were floating in empty space, observing the scene through a cloud of shadows. 

The healer blinked once, and the world vanished.

--

She lay nestled in the shadows of a boulder. The scent of sweet lily flowers and moss drifted in the air. Underneath, the ground was spongy and moist, and a chill had crept into her bones. The sky was a deep blue that was partially hidden by the rock jutting overhead; she could just make it out through the tree branches above. Swaths of green forest and undergrowth surrounded her. As she raised her head, the sun spilled out from behind a white cloud above. It sent dazzling rays across the stream that whispered gently several feet away.

A girl had appeared from behind the boulder as she opened her eyes. 

“You’re awake!” The stranger rushed over to the healer. It took a moment to recognize her outside of the temple; she was missing the plated armor, red tunic, and black bandana that was the signature uniform of the guards. It was the new recruit. Dimly, she remembered resting in strong arms, and she guessed that it had been her. Where had she taken her? And why? 

The recruit had long, straight black locks, and now wore a simple tunic of blueish-grey and black design. Her eyes were piercing blue, and she had the resemblance of a mountain dryad; that is, she looked as if she were descended from the mysterious mountain spirits that lived in distant kingdoms. She had an elegant steel longsword hanging from her belt. 

The girl outstretched her hand and touched the healer on the forehead. No stranger to medical practices, she noted that she was checking for a fever. The healing girl lay quietly, studying the other girl’s face and the faint dots of freckles on her nose. Her clothing was clean and stitched with great skill. The fabric was soft and silky, a delicate garment that could not be found anywhere near the provinces where the healer lived. The recruit was from far away. 

“I dragged you away from the riot,” The girl with blue eyes explained as she lifted a wooden canteen. “Don’t worry. The mercs won’t find us; it was dark when I ran into the forest with you. I’m not even sure where we are now.” 

The healer sat up and took the cup from her gratefully. She sipped the water. It sang with strange earthy flavors and was cool on her tongue. Her aching skull gave her trouble to recall the temple and the guards. It seemed like a dream; there was no bell alerting her awake this morning. There was no banging on her chamber door, no calloused hands jerking her free of the blanket. Here she was, in the forest, something she hadn’t been allowed to view since she was a little girl. 

She… she saved me from them. 

“T-thank you.” Heart in her throat, the healer stumbled over her words. “I can’t tell you how much I owe you. I… I thought I’d never get away.” She gave a dry laugh. 

 The other girl tucked a long black strand of hair behind her ear. She studied the healer with her intense blue eyes; the healer shuffled her feet, aware that she was disheveled from the way her hair pressed to one side and the dirt and grime caught on her clothes. The other girl’s piercing gaze made her long for a thorough bath and clean, fitting clothing. Of course, the guards hadn’t allowed her that luxury, either. 

“Yeah, well…” the recruit’s voice drooped, and she had to lean closer to hear her words. “It wasn’t entirely charity.” Her piercing blue eyes seemed shadowed despite the sunlight. As if fate, a cloud drifted over their camp.

“What do you mean?” The healer’s mind whirled. 

The other girl glanced away quickly. She was passing a coin between her hands; a large, flat plate that was the size of her palm. The girl rubbed the metal thoughtfully, as if considering her words. “Have you heard of the Valitroths?”

Even in her isolated temple, the healer had heard legend of the ancient wilds far away, a land where men defended the natural kingdom on the mightiest beasts in their world. The stories said that the dragon riders, the Valitroths, slaughtered any human who dared to venture into the wilds. They were a revered legend; a myth to keep mischievous children from getting lost in the woods. The healer said, “I’ve heard stories. The Valitroths guard the forest, right? And they kill anyone they find trespassing.” 

The strange girl met her gaze with her white-blue eyes that bored almost painfully into her vision. “We spent the night in the trees. No dragons came to kill us.” 

The healer shifted uncomfortably. “I never said I believed any of it.” This was a lie; the healer had always believed the myths, and even now, and uncomfortable chill of foreboding had crept down her spine at the mention of the Valitroths. 

The girl smirked and said, “Then you’ll never believe what I’m about to show you.” She flipped the coin towards her in an elegant arc. The healer caught the metal plate. It was thick, yet light, and tiny grooves were carved into the surface, indistinguishable in the shadows of the boulder overhead. The healer held it out above the stream. She turned the coin in the light to reveal faint mystic inscriptions etched into the metal; it glimmered under the sun.

 “This is a veil coin,” The other girl told her. “It’s the currency of the sanctum. You have to pay to get in, which is why I was told to bring this for you.” 

The healer stared at her, mind in a vortex of confusion. What was this girl offering her? “What are you saying? Could you be a little more clear? I don’t… I’m bad at riddles.”

“It’s no riddle,” The dark haired girl sighed with exasperation weighing in her tone. “I’m in training to be a Valiroth. I was chosen from Oros Thequoias, eight months ago. I got a veil coin just like this. The Valitroths know who you are, too. They want you in their society.” 

 The girl’s offer was beyond incomprehensible. Join the Valitroths? This girl was claiming to be part of the nightmare of the wilds; the very reason traveling was outlawed. She boldly admitted that she hailed from Oros Thequoias, a a mere fable as well; the land was supposedly covered in mountainous trees that stretched taller than the highest winter ice clouds. This was a lie. This was a dream. Surely.

“That’s impossible.” 

The dark haired girl raised an arched eyebrow. “Your eyes fill with liquid metal and you can heal any injury with a touch. Yet you think tall trees and big lizards are impossible?” 

Her jaw seemed to lock. “Well, when you put it that way…” The healer felt silly; this girl was offering her the chance of a lifetime! The Valitroths knew her. The Valitroths had been watching her. She wasn’t a fool; she knew from the moment she had first healed that she was special. Special enough, even, to be part of the most legendary society to exist. 

She couldn’t pretend she hadn’t spent most of her evenings gazing out the temple windows, watching the green forest sway in the wind and debating whether she should take the plunge and vanish into the treeline forever. Even the myths of the Valitroths, gruesome tales of bloodshed and gore, hadn’t deterred her dreams of flight. In fact, she’d often imagined herself as one of them; she daydreamed about becoming stronger than her guards, more skilled, more deadly. She’d dreamed of cutting them down with effortless joy and flying away on the back of a mighty beast. The stories of the Valitroths didn’t frighten her, they only intrigued her.

The more she considered it, the more she wondered why she cared about the towns in the first place. They’d shown her nothing but cruelty. They already thought she was a demon in disguise, assuming her healing to be ‘ghost powers’ or witchcraft. They treated her like a nightmare; given the chance, any one of them wouldn’t hesitate to kill her on sight. The healer gripped the coin tighter in her hand. “I don’t know if it’s all true or not, but I want to come with you.” 

The other girl jumped with sudden excitement and exclaimed, “That’s great! I wasn’t looking forward to making the trip alone,” she added with a sudden shadow across her gaze. Her eyes gleamed as she added with a grin, “I realized I don’t even know your name! Mine’s Sira. Sira Kiaenithrius.” She extended her hand. 

“Kalensul.” She delicately gripped the other girl’s hand. “Just Kalensul.”

[hallelujuh]

shay’s favorite tv shows from 2017

this has been in my drafts for.... nine months.... fuck.

Written in December 2017, updates are from September 2018.

Considering how many new, innovative shows are around these days, I didn’t get too adventurous this year, but I’m satisfied with the ones I did watch. I discovered new shows, I was impressed by the shows I’ve been following for years, and I learned to appreciate the work that goes into television more. Here’s my top ten TV shows..

10. Thirteen Reasons Why - In all honestly, this is only here because I haven’t been able to watch Peaky Blinders yet, and it’s probably too late. (UPDATE: Watched it in Jan and it was amazing.) This show received a lot of backlash, and for good reason, although it had its moments. The characters were well-written, the relationships were given depth that is often lacking in other high school-set narratives, and the tone was great. I’ve always loved watching things that make me profoundly sad, and this show did just that. (UPDATE: Season 2 was fucking garbage lmao.)

Standout episode: Tape 1, Side B. It’s a cripplingly depressing show, but this episode stood out as a moment of light in Hannah’s dark reality. Her friendship with Jessica and Alex was nice in the beginning - their banter, them having a spot in the coffee shop. I remember assuming Alex was gay (I believe his actor is, so I wasn’t too off) and thinking that’d be good for Hannah, to have a guy friend who wasn’t interested in her and wouldn’t add relationship drama to her life. Boy, was I wrong. Still, having seen the show at the beginning of the year, this episode is the only one I remember as enjoying, so it gets this spot.

9. A Series of Unfortunate Events - I read the books in elementary school, and they’re one of my favorite series of all time. I’m also a huge fan of the film, though I know most aren’t. So I was very excited for this series, and it didn’t completely disappoint. While I found myself longing for the actors from the 2004 motion picture, and some of the directing decisions weren’t choice, it was cool to see The Miserable Mill finally come to life, and I loved the Baudelaires just as much here as anyone else. I’ll be tuning in to next season, since I’ve very, very excited to see how they handle the next three books. I can’t wait to meet the Quagmire triplets, and Esme, and Jacques! It’ll be awesome. I hope they portray it well, but there’s no film to compare it to from here on out, so maybe it’ll be different.

Standout episode: The Reptile Room: Part One/Two. Like I said, I wasn’t a huge fan of how most of the characters were portrayed in this adaption, but I did love Uncle Monty. He was just as wonderful as he was in the film and books. Watching his interactions with the kids was really nice, and as always, made me wish they could’ve remained with him. Stephano wasn’t as menacing here as he is in the film (that knife scene is the point in the film where you go, “woah, this dude’s for real. he’s scary”), which was a bummer because I still thought Olaf was a laughably bad and incompetent villain by the finale, but I did like Poe’s hysteria, and I really loved the movie theatre scene.

8. Riverdale - Oops I never wrote this dfdsbfjdbfjds.

7. South Park - While we all can agree the last season was a mess, and this one was only a slight improvement, it did have it’s moments. I’ve been a fan for five years now, so at this point, they’ll never disappoint me, tbfh. 

Standout episode: Doubling Down. While Put it Down was wonderful, both satirically and because of Craig and Tweek’s adorable relationship, the eighth episode of the season was my personal favorite (UPDATE: Not sure why ‘cause I didn’t specify then and I’m not sure now.)

6. Dear White People - I didn’t do this one either damn. 

Standout Episode: Chapter V. While the show is a comedic take on racial relations, this episode is an emotional, serious change. The Barry Jenkins-directed episode shows us that the subject is no laughing matter, and it very clearly deserves this spot.

5. Rick and Morty - Yet another show I discovered this year, during the summer. I’d been meaning to watch it for ages, and I finally got around to it. While the fanbase is pretty much poison, the show is pretty damn good. Maybe not what it’s hyped up to be, but great none-the-less. I’m a big fan of adult cartoons, and RaM isn’t entirely satirical like South Park, and it’s not self-aware like BoJack, but it holds up. It’s probably so popular because of how unique it is.

Standout episode: The Ricklantis Mixup. While my personal favorite of Season 3 was The Whirly Dirly Conspiracy, because I adore Jerry, I think we can all agree that the was the best episode of the season, if not the series. Like, really. Holy shit.

4. Gotham - I began watching this show last year, and caught up to season three around halfway through it. It began to drag a bit, admittedly, like it couldn’t carry it’s own weight - but now the show’s on season four, and it gets a little wild sometimes, but it’s holding quite a bit better, I’d say. I was pretty fucking impressed, especially with the Nygmobblepot stuff.

Standout episode: A Dark Knight: Queen Takes Knight. Although Mad City: The Gentle Art of Making Enemies from Season 3 is a close runner-up, for all the loose ends it ties up, and so cleanly, too - the winter finale gets this spot. It had me on the edge of my metaphorical seat (since I was actually curled up in bed) the entire time. While Sophia’s character and her motivations had remained muddy since her introduction, her badassery finally came to the forefront, and it was awesome. The way she tore down Penguin from his throne? Incredible. We know he’ll return, as he has so many times, but really, that was so incredible. Considering he’s my favorite character, I should feel worse. However, Sophia executed her plan so well, I was too awed to hate her. Also, Jerome’s back! I’m extremely excited to see Jerome’s role in the upcoming episodes. (Update: Oh, honey, you got a big storm coming...)

3. BoJack Horseman - I binged the hell out of this show just before season four came out, because it was so creative and thought-provoking and hilariously depressing. The fourth season was notably wonderful in a lot of ways, particularly because of Todd’s sexuality arc (the first out asexual character in a TV show!) and how well it was handled, but also because of the mature themes they took on. Princess Carolyn’s miscarriages, Diane and Mr. PB’s failing marriage, BoJack’s struggle to forgive his mother, Beatrice’s own troubled upbringing, Hollyhock’s eating disorder. I watched the whole season in three days when it was first released, four months ago, and I’m currently considering re-watching it after rereading the summaries of each episode to refresh my memory. I’d forgotten how phenomenal it was. It’s on another level - it really is.

Standout episode: Time’s Arrow. Though there wasn’t a single weak episode this season, this one definitely stood out. Following the tradition of uniquely depressing eleventh episodes, Time’s Arrow focuses on BoJack’s mother and how her turbulent childhood affected her. Gorgeously executed, it makes us pity the woman who made our favorite alcoholic horse the way he is, and it concludes with BoJack making peace with his mother, who he had spent so long resenting. It’s just a gorgeous episode. I think I’m going to rewatch it right now, haha.

2. Mr. Robot - I’ve wanted to watch this show since it came out, but I finally began and finished the first two seasons just weeks before Season 3 came out. Since I’m discussing my favorites of 2017, I won’t be talking about those first two seasons here. I’ll be focusing on Season 3, which has been, in my opinion, incredible. What began as a modern, nerdy take on Fight Club has become so much more; a masterfully dark and suspenseful fictionalized look at the looming political state of our world. We’ve gotten new characters (Irving, who’s a gem), we’ve learned more about older but mysterious characters (poor repressed Dom), we’ve had to say goodbye to old characters (I’m still mad about ******), and best of all, this season has been Tyrell heavy, and we even got to see Elliot make peace with Mr. Robot.

Standout episode: S3/EP8, eps3.7_dont-delete-me.ko - The previous episode had already established a gorgeously melancholy setting through the use of Mac Quayle's gorgeous production 2.0_6-madame3xecutioner.oga, which, as a huge fan of film scores, I instantly fell in love with. The song is featured during a scene I watched several times - the scene when Angela repeatedly rewinds the explosion, unable to cope with the reality of it. It left me feeling similar to the way I had after watching American Beauty for the first time - like the world was a different shade. I thought this would be the only moment the show could invoke that response from me, but then the next episode came out. Unlike Ep. 7, Ep. 8 didn’t have a single moment. The whole episode brimmed with pain and sadness. The show’s already sad, but the lonely, isolated feeling is often overwhelmed by the suspense, drama, and excitement. This episode let the characters hurt without interruption, and it was wonderfully emotional.

1. The Get Down - I was so thrilled when I discovered this show in April, literally a few days after Part 2 had aired. I downloaded all the episodes for a road trip, and literally could not put it down the entire tme. It blended all my favorite things - the art of rap, the origin and evolution of hip hop, how battle rapping/deejaying came to be. The music was stellar, the cinematography was breathtaking, the acting was (for the most part) wonderful, and the cast was fantastic. I’ve seen some criticizing it, because of its occasionally choppy narrative and the fact that Baz Luhrmann added his usual whimsical take on something that was historically fairly dark, but I thought it was flawless. It was definitely groundbreaking in its amount of representation, and it was fun and colorful and emotional and, overall, just absolutely wonderful. Like many others, I was pretty devastated when they cancelled it. I understand why, but I wish it could get the Sense 8 treatment and receive a movie. There’s too many loose ends - it’s a real bummer. Still, I’m grateful we were blessed with this gem of a show at all.

Standout episode: S1/EP11, Only from Exile Can We Come Home - The final episode gets this spot for a single scene; the one where it alternates between Mylene singing “I’m my #1″ in the hotel room with Jackie and all the drag queens, and the scene where an unreleased Miguel song is playing while Dizzy & Thor paint on each other, and then Shao calls Dizzy his “alien brother.” That scene was easily one of my favorites I’ve ever seen in any show, in my entire life. If that episode was a film, that scene alone would guarantee it a spot on my favorite films list. It was that good.