#okay moss rant over

[synthshenanigans]

🎶✨️when you get this, put 5 songs you actually listen to, then publish. Send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers🎶✨️

5 songs is too little give me a CHALLENGE/j

[lanawinterscigarettes]

I hate veneers. I literally hate them so fucking much. people with crooked and/or chipped teeth I love you

[syrupfog]

Zoro wakes up to the scratchy feeling of a note beneath his haramaki. 

“Cook’s name is Sanji. 

You fight every day. He hates you. He knows your favorite foods. You loved him. 

Hanahaki got bad again. You took the pill. 

No. of times this has happened: [a number of scribbles] 11”

The note looks like it’s been through the ringer, crumpled and bloodied. Zoro reads it, folds it up, and sticks it back in his haramaki. He assumes he’ll need it again.

The cook— Sanji— is hard to get along with. He yells at Zoro, fights with Zoro, complains about Zoro. He’s terrible. 

Living alongside him is like breathing. 

It feels so natural, slotting into place next to him. Zoro knows instantly why the disease keeps coming back. It’s hell.

Robin knows. Nami knows. Chopper doesn’t seem to, and if Usopp did then Sanji would. And Sanji doesn’t seem to know. 

Thank god Sanji doesn’t seem to know. 

It’s only a few weeks before Zoro’s coughing up petals again. Small and blue and fragile.

They’re on an island and it’s autumn and the town’s harvest festival is happening. There’s a cult or possibly just a really zealous group of farmers. Zoro doesn’t know; he got lost and ended up at an old woman’s cottage on the outskirts of town.

His theory circles back around to *cult* when he ends up prone on her floor after some apparently drugged mulled wine. She stands over him and rants about something or other— he doesn’t care what she has to say, he’s preoccupied with the way the drugs coursing through his system are making it hard to cough, and the flowers in his throat are sticking to his insides. 

It’s gross. He doesn’t cough them up so much as pukes them out. 

The old woman also thinks it’s gross. She kicks him, but she’s old. He doesn’t really feel it.

Anyway, it’s a whole thing. The problem is that the woman wants to drag him somewhere to be a sacrifice to the great pumpkin or something, but Zoro’s too heavy and she can’t move him. But when she opens the door to find a neighbour to help— 

Sanji’s there.

(Or, as Zoro has taken to calling him recently, Curly). 

(Nami told him after he started that he often ends up at that name). 

Sanji lays on the simpering to the old woman for all of about two minutes, asking if she’s seen some lost moss and then going on about her hair care. But eventually he does notice Zoro there on the floor behind her. 

Slipping around the woman, who seems to be somewhat at a loss, Sanji starts ranting to Zoro about how he shouldn’t drink so much if he’s going to puke it all up, and how he stinks now— and to be fair, Zoro’s shirt is covered in puke and wilted flower petals. But then Sanji starts pulling his shirt off of him while Zoro’s still struggling to get up, and as he does so, the note— The note slips out of his haramaki. 

And Zoro can’t grab it.

(He still can’t REALLY move, although he suspects that puking the flower petals did get some of the poison out). 

But he cant stop Sanji. His weak “fuck off, give that back” falls on deaf ears as Sanji unfolds it. Frowns at the state of it. Reads it. 

Fuck.

Then, fast as anything, Sanji stands up and punts Zoro hard enough that he flies across the room, hitting the far wall and sliding down to the floor with a grown. 

Awesome. Great. Good to know how Sanji feels.

He hears the click click of his dress shoes as Sanji hurries out. And then he’s alone with the old lady, who seems truly at a loss for what to do, but that’s okay. Zoro’s too busy coughing up whole branches to notice.

Zoro is retrieved by Robin and Usopp not too long after that. By the time they’re back at the ship he’s regained a fair amount of his mobility. Whatever was going on in town, Luffy took care of it. Or Usopp did, depending on who Zoro asked. 

It doesn’t matter.

Zoro coughs up petals and licks his wounds and starts searching for those pills. And probably it’s too early this time, but he just— 

He wants to forget this. 

He can’t find the pills, though, and he remembers too late that Sanji kept the note. He needs that.

But he’s a coward. He waits until everyone should be asleep before sneaking into the galley to see if he can find the note in the trash or something. 

He miscalculates, though, and runs straight into Sanji, smoking in the dark.

“Eleven times?” Sanji asks him, staring resolutely at the wall next to Zoro. 

“Apparently,” says Zoro. 

Sanji laughs. Humourlessly. “Can’t wait to make it a twelfth, can you?” 

“Listen,”growls Zoro. “It’s not my fault you read the fucking note. Just pretend you never found it.”

Sanji grits his teeth around his cigarette. “Is it that fucking horrible?” He asks. “The idea of having feelings for me is so fucking repulsive you’d rather rip me out of your life entirely?” 

Zoro goes to say something, but there are petals squirming their way up his throat.

He coughs, hacks, spits them into his palm. Delicate blue petals splattered with blood. “You asshole,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “What, would you prefer I wallow in rejection and suffocate on a fucking plant? I don’t plan on dying here.”

Sanji goes still and quiet. 

“You hid the pills, right?” Zoro continues. “Give them back. I’m done here.” 

“No,” says Sanji. Quietly. “I— Moss, you can’t believe that.” 

“Who else would it have been?” 

“No, I mean— yeah okay, I threw your pills overboard. But that’s not—“ He swallows. “Zoro. You can’t possibly think I would reject you..?” 

Zoro scrunches up his face in confusion. “Uh, yeah,” he says. “You flirted with that old woman who drugged me. You’ll flirt with our literal enemy before even looking at me.” He blinks. “And then you threw me into a wall!” 

“I was caught off guard!” Sanji shrieks, jumping up. “Anyone would have done that after reading that note!” 

“THAT’S AN INSANE THING TO THINK!” 

“WELL MAYBE I’M A LITTLE INSANE RIGHT NOW.“ 

They’re suddenly at each others’ throats. Zoro grabs Sanji’s collar as Sanji grips his shoulders. He’s grimacing, face inches from Zoro’s, cigarette smashed on the floor. 

“You don’t get to DECIDE WHAT I THINK and then HURT YOURSELF OVER AND OVER AGAIN,” Sanji yells. 

“I’m FINE, COOK,” Zoro yells back. “I was HANDLING IT.”

And then Sanji smashes their faces together. 

It’s a terrible kiss. Someone’s nose is bleeding and Zoro thinks it’s his. He thinks Sanji’s broken it. 

Pulling back, Sanji says, “You didn’t have to handle it.” He pushes his forehead against Zoro’s. “That’s the fucking problem.”

Zoro purses his lips because his eyes are damp. “Shut up,” he says. “How was I supposed to know?” 

Sanji’s hands are still on his collar and he pulls Zoro impossibly closer. “Just. Don’t forget me again.” 

Zoro closes his eyes. “Fine,” he says. “Eleven was enough.”

[thealtofvalleyxdoodles]

"Tell her her dress is pretty."

You were just an average babysitter. Nothing too grand-sure you loved kids, sure the parents paid nicely-but fucking hell, Joe Graves.

And Sarah-the cutest little thing ever! She's so sweet, little chatter box, sure, but it's cute, you think, hearing her rant about how cool her daddy is, and how he's got some of the coolest friends. When this happened, you just sat there, letting her talk-but one day, it happened in your front yard. So you played with her and her dolls-kinda. She forgot they were there and started waving her armsand hands around as she told a story that Joe told her, one about where had to swim in a big river. "Really, Sarah? Did you daddy say all of that?" "Yeah huh! Yea huh! He's so cool!" Sarah said, jumping up and down on her feet now. You giggled before saying, "Careful hunny. Dont wantcha falling now do we?" And Sarah shook her head. "Nuh uh. That would hurt...hey-Miss Y/n? Why don't you have a husband?"

you ch0oked on your spit. "Uhm-where'd you learn that word hunny?" "Daddy! He was talking his friends about you-" "And I told you not to eavesdrop anymore, Sarah." the gruff voice made the both of you jump. "Joe! Hi! Goodness, I didn't see you!" "I walked," he said simply. "I don't live far anyway. Besides, it's good for my health." You nodded your head, "True." Joe smiled at you, and you smiled back. Sarah huffed before saying, "Daddy! I was talking to Miss Y/n! And you said it's rude to inter-inner...I don't know!" Sarah pouted, crossing her arms over her chest in that cute little way only toddlers could. You laughed and said, "Sarah, calm down sweetie. I'm listening."

But Joe quirked a brow up. "You've never pouted like that before..." he grumbled to himself, watching Sarah go on her little taggant to you. He listening somewhat, but then looked at his wrist watch, "Sarah, sweetie. It's almost time for mom to pick you up." And Sarah pouted-again. "I don't wanna go to mom's! I wanna stay with Miss Y/n!" "Sarah...I'm being called in-you have to go to Lena's." "I'm not going!" Joe sighed and picked up his daughter. She started to fake cry. "Sarah! Enough! What the hell is wrong with you today?"

He felt bad for saying that to her, he knew it was probably a side affect of aging, but jeez...this was bad. You got up off the little picnic blanket and said, "I'm not going to tell you how to parent, Mister Graves...I'm just going to say, maybe it's because she sees how stressed and annoyed Lena makes you-maybe she's reluctant to go with her mother because of this." Huh. Good point-Sarah's was always a Daddy's girl. "Yeah-Yeah maybe..." but his daughter was (trying to and failing) glaring at him. "Sarah. Sweetie. We'll have a talk at home, okay?" Jeez-he already had to pull out the dad talk? ...Maybe Lena was right-Maybe he spent too much time at work and not enough at home.

"Say bye to Miss L/n." "Bye, Miss Y/n..." Sarah said sadly, waving to you even more so. You jutted your lower lip out before saying, "Well-here's the bag of toys she brought, Joe. Have a nice day!" Joe nodded and he took the bag, "Yeah-you too..."

but as he walked away, "Tell her her dress is pretty, Sarah," Joe said, smiling, "YOUR DRESS IT PRETTY MISS Y/NNNN!!!"

~~~~~ 𝕋 𝔸 𝔾 𝕊 ~~~~~

@spicy-seaweed @seconds-over-first @thebunnednun @staytrueblue @writing-with-moss and my backup blog: @valscodblog bc i can c:

[iwannascreameurekaa]

pjo characters favorite chappell roan looks part two

same warning as the first part hope y'all like ooc stuff

part 1

Lesters favorite is this one from the Midwest princess tour (bonnaroo or something like that) but specifically with the cunt fan

Nicos favorite is the Marie Antoinette themed dress. He likes the wig but honestly he prefers the look with Chappells hair

Wills favorite is the knight look from the vmas he could talk non stop for hours about it and also he's a bi disaster too he's drooling over it idc 

Rachel's favorite is the football player look from idk where the closer is glass Rachel is a wuh luh wuh in some aspect

Tysons favorite is the naked in manhattan music video look. He likes the puffy sleeves and the "marshmallow" hat. Also the phone is cool. 

Alexs favorite look is also from the Jimmy Fallon interview but it's the black swan look. Alex knows cunt when she sees it. When Chappell said "it was some twink at google" Alex was ready to fight for his life to defend Chappell

Ellas favorite is the good luck babe album cover look. She's fascinated with the pig nose and she could rant to someone (probably Tyson) forever about it. She knows every detail about the outfit, from the stones in the rings, to the exact shade of red on the dress.

Clarisses favorite is the eat me look and she is not afraid to say it. She's an animal print girlie okay also she's in my mind a raging lesbian so yk WOMEN

Travis's favorite is the (and this is what ima call it bc I don't think there's actually a name) "smoker mom" vibe look idk. It gives smoker mom and it's awesome. They love it (non binary Travis fans were you at??? Just me.. okay...)

Connors favorite is from the picture you (?) music video. He loves it he's a very emotional guy when it comes to music and by gods picture you is like a symphony of heartbreak 

Reynas favorite is the cowboy look it's cool looking and also she loves the dots and sparkles embedded on the red parts

Thalia favorite look is this specific green blue look I have no idea where it's from or when it was but she loves it. I know this I can feel it in my heart okay also the top piece looks like moss and Thalia gets really sad when she sees miss bc it reminds her of when she was on the run with Luke Grover and Annabeth and those were actually some of the best days for her back then (I'm crying rn I'm sorry)

The hot to go album cover and mv look is magnus's fav it might seem boring to others but Magnus loves the diner look and the aspect of diners in general so

Silenas favorite is the cowgirl look from either the Midwest princess or this might've been when Chappell was opening for Olivia Rodrigo idk. It's shiny it's got accessories it's got TASSELS it's absolutely gorgeous and silena loves it 

Meg really likes the camo look. She won't tell anyone why and the last person that asked her was sneezing daisies for two days. (She told Lester is was because of the gloves. She likes the green gloves. Lester hasn't told a soul, he doesn't dare to.)

Austins fav is this look I have no idea where it's from and I don't even know the full look but from just this I know he'd love it 

Kaylas fav is the biker look from something... I can't remember where this is from but I will figure it out sooner or later

Dakotas favorite is this one again no idea where it's from but it looks like the Midwest princess tour idk

Octavians favorite is this look from chappells performance in Brooklyn NY he's extra and he loves the detail

Hearthstones favorite is the 2024 artist do the year party look and I have no idea how to explain why I just know or his fav is the kink is karma look I am split between the two

And that's the end of the second part like I said before on the first post if I'm missing a character or a look don't hesitate to ask for it

Part 1

[void-of-unparalled-chaos]

Okay so now that the semester is over, here is a list of actual things my paleontology professor said/did during lecture and discussion:

“I've watched this like 20 times now” (Prehistoric Planet 2 trailer)

“Hi yes I am me, an exemplar of our species. A prime specimen.”

*visible confusion while reading the Colossal website*

“Turkeys can be terrifying. Birds are terrifying in general”

“That’s David Attenbourough not a bird.”

“Thank you for clarifying.”

“You’re welcome! It’s what I’m here for! This is why I have a Ph.d!”

“You need to have a healthy bullshit meter to read any paleontology paper.”

“As I keep telling you, life hates us.”

“Look at the size of the head compared to the body. This is just stupid.”

“Look at the butt of that thing!”

*measures with hands on screen*

“This is a stupid looking animal.” (Cotylorhynchus romeri)

"for example comparing femur robustness is ... what does that even mean?"

“You can laugh…this is a stupid looking creature!”

“Then of course you have your penis worms.”

“Holding fossils from the Burgess Shale is a religious experience.”

“It would be a very mossy world, which I am not opposed to. I like moss :)”

“Taxonomy is a clusterfuck.”

“This is probably one of the most ridiculous animals to have ever evolved.” (Whales)

“It looks like a strange monster from the black lagoon.” (Maiacetus)

“It’s a magical Liopleurodon!”

*does push ups on a table to show us how a fish would have walked*

*showing us a video of a crocodile taken by someone in the water*

“Do NOT do this. Don’t jump into the water with a crocodile. It will end very badly :(“

“This was like one of the weirdest papers I’ve seen. Alright so Ken Carpenter is a very legitimate paleontologist in Colorado. He normally worked with dinosaurs but he also decided to try and figure out how mosasaurs swim. So you look at the skeleton but then you also put two undergrads in a pool, one grabbing the other one's legs to see how that double-limb locomotion would work. It's like the kookiest thing I’ve ever seen published… but yeah I'm not even sure how he got the approval for this… I don’t think this was grant funded… “I would like some undergrad volunteers to jump in a pool, one holding the other ones legs to see if they will drown.””

*rants about the size of the mosasaur in Jurassic World and debates with a student whether or not an actual size mosasaur could pull a T. Rex into the water*

“I like owls. They look like they are wearing trousers :)”

"The Ice Age movie was a missed opportunity. There were so many cool animals they could have used and they didn't use ANY of them! There were giant ground sloths that were so big you can stand in their fossilized burrows! Yeah sure we have that one guy...what's his name...Sid? Yeah sure we have Sid but Sid is NOT a giant ground sloth. That's not even mentioning all of the horses and bison and bears and lions! Its disappointing!"

...

"I was on a podcast about this :D"

[valscodblog]

"ℙ𝕀𝕊𝕋𝕆𝕃𝔸" an Alejandro Vargas x OC; Pt 1

Warnings: Non really-just some. Not for this part at least. Just some vulgar language and a very very very very slight mention of past attempted murder. Oh, and refusal to move on. (not like-romanticly, like rant wise.)

OC: Maria "Pistola" Sanchez

Credits to OC: Myself C:

Tags: @writing-with-moss @thebunnednun @seconds-over-first @needa-sum-luvn and @skauni oh and wth why not!? @spicy-seaweed

"I love how she does this!" "I love how she does that!" "Ohh, she performs so well, how is she only a corp?"

Like she needed reminding of why she never tired to move up. Of Why she tried to make herself seem stupid and weak...but every single time she went into battle-she was reminded.

"Maria's one of the best-i recommend-" but she wasn't listening anymore. This is why she and Alejandro never saw eye to eye-he tired to convince her to let him write to the General to move her up-she always said no. She didn't want to be seen-seeing as she was forced into this life. "Ay, Cállate, Alejandro! I'm not the best of the best and you know this," she said, cutting him off in the middle of this stupid meeting. Alejandro put one eyebrow up-so high it arched in the middle and made him look ever so dangerous. "Delscupme?"

She bit her lower lip and said, "Nada...Nada." "Yo creio que...y, Si has terminado, María..." Maria nodded, and tuned out his voice again. Rudy was going to use her as a toll during this mission and she already knew that-he always did. Rudy was nice, sure, but he had a levrage on Maria no one else did. Her past. She looked at Rudy-and he looked back, smiling. El Pendejo. She forced a smile back at him before looking down at her lap-"Maria! Are you even listening to me, amor?" "Si, si, claro que si." Alejandro hummed before saying, "What did I just say then?" "You said i was to work with Rudy-otra ves-and-" "No. I did not. I said you are to work with el nuevo teniente."

"There's a new one?" Maria asked, quirking a brow up, and crossing her arms over her chest-oh if only she knew the affect she had on him. Alejandro took a deep breath before saying, "Si, there's a new one. Ghost, they call him. You've never met him-but we're changing that...you'll also be working with another sergeant-Soap." Maria held back on hell of a barking laugh. "SOAP? ¿Jabón? they call him that? Why?" "no se, now. If your done talking back, we'll leave to meet your new partners." "Fine, fine..."

Alejandro picked up a file and said, "This is for the-" "I dont want to know, Alejandro. Nor do i want to, Pendejo." Alejandro sighed, "You still mad at me for that?" "Yes i am." "I told you-you succeed that mission, you were moving up whether you liked it or not!" "Yo se! Pero-I told you why i don't want to!" "And I don't care! The forms are sent-long over due-and el general-" "I don't care! No me importa!"

And they walked off in silence. Maria's anger known to all those who saw her-Alejandro's too. "Why are you like this, chica?" "Be-" "Don't give me no sassy response, quagliò." "...im going to kill you, Vargas." "Try it, muchacha. I dare you." "...Vete a la mierda, Alejandro."

"Ghost...is the one with the skull mask, si? ...How do we know he ain't part of el sin nombre's ranks?" Maria asked, eyeing the new Lt. Alejandro sighed. "Laswell recommended him. Same with Price." Maria was still skeptical but she nodded. "Okay..." "Just-go meet him, huh?" "Fine." She walked over to him and said, "Ghost, i take it?" the tall man nodded. "You must be Pistola." "that I am."

"Why do they call you that, eh?" ghost asked, Maria smiled, "Should I show you, Pendejo?" "Ay! That's enough, Mari-Pistola." Maria glared at Rudy and he fixed her name halfway through. "Mari, her name's Mari?" the other one asked, the one with a mohawk. She shook her head. "Dumb nickname they call me," she lied smoothly. "Short for my real name-which you idiotos will not be receiving whatsoever-so don't ask." Alejandro frowned at Maria before raising his eyebrows.

'Play nice.' That's what the look meant. She frowned back before sighing. If that CIA lady said that they could trust these two...No. Should she trust again it would be the end of her world. No, she won't play nice. She'll play cold. She'll play harsh. And she'll play Dirty. She nodded at Alejandro, who was now walking over before looking at the one with a mohawk. "You-Mohawk. You a punk rocker or somethin'?" And he blinked. "Scottish. That's wha' aye am." She hummed. "Scotland, huh? What part?" "That's private." "My bad-just tryna...i dunno, be nice or whatever," she said, shrugging. Soap nodded, "I get it, i doo, just doon't ask my home yeah?" "Yeah-sure."

"Oye, Pistola, ven." "Si, senor."

"Que?" "Maria, por favor, I know your scared of-" "Shut up." "Exscuse-" "Shut. Up, Alejandro. I'm scared yes, But do I want Rudy or the rest of LOs Vaqueros knowing that? No!" "Why are you scared, Amor? Soy aqui-" "Yo se! Yo se, okay, Alejandro? Pero-Yo-" she took a deep breath, "They could work for my uncle and we wouldn't never know." Alejandro sighed, "Your never goinf to let that go are you?" "You think Imma just-forgive mi tio for trying to kill the both of us?" "...No. Not when you put it like that...but he's the genaral of Mexico! What are we going to do? Plus-their flags say-" "Undercovers! They could be undercovers!"

Alejandro looked at Maria-really looked at her for the first time since recruiting her eleven years ago and his eyes went wide.

"...You don't trust me, do you?"

And she shook her head. Eleven years-and she never trusted him. Not once. Not during the nights they spent alone-not during the missions they took, not during any of it. She never had trusted him.

"Is this why they call you Pistola? Because your like a bullet to the heart, Corazon?"

[sleepynegress]

Okay. So, I was gonna do a recording on this... still may, but... Ehh, I'm getting new meds on Friday. Anyway. About The Acolyte...

This right here is why BIPOC are always cynical when a show centers us. There's a much greater chance the rug will be pulled and a lesser chance of seeing anything in that space again. I enjoyed the show, but it wasn't perfect. Unfortunately, post-Trump and Apartheid Clyde, incels have dumbed down and polarized any reactions to media. Anything that has white men and white men nostalgia they'll eat up with the spoon regardless of actual quality *cough*deadpool*cough*. ANYTHING with the alphabet crew, BIPOC, -really any 'other' they don't find to be fuckable or exactly like them (because fuck empathy or trying on someone else's shoes), shouldn't exist, because that's pandering.... The norm is everybody else should be fine seeing them all the time, because 30% that is white men and even less,*het* white men should always be catered to, because they are fragile emotionally stunted children and nobody else is important.... *sigh* Yeah so /rant. I feel for the younger generations, because I feel not being raised with the "twice as good" lecture has been used against these talented marginalized creatives. If the art isn't 100% excellent all-around, that is used to justify why any product they make is always gonna be inferior... "Go Woke, Go Broke" nonsense. Meanwhile, the big-money, non-art-minded people running things don't advertise properly, don't have a more experienced and artistic-minded higher-up go over the finer details to polish it up, and mentor the young-ins right. They don't sort out proper spending because they pre-assume the inclusive property can be the 1st(!) written off for taxes.

They drop awkwardly cut and paced eps stretched out over weeks. They mishandled Carrie Anne-Moss by implying she's a major character when she was just a cameo. They kneecapped this production. They just didn't count on Oshamir gaining such a fan following. Anyway, keep fighting... I'm pissed for you, but this isn't my first rodeo. P.S. ....I am so tired of these fucking incels. They make everything lousy.

[rosenbergamot]

What about the word: mistake

YIPPEE ok i found this old silly fic i was writing ab vampire mumbo and nobody knowing or believing that hes a vampire. its just like little snippets until the big reveal and i think im gonna pick it back up bc it was fun and silly and i enjoyed it. heres a small scene from it!!

There’s someone approaching; he hears him clunking down the stairs. Judging by the scent (all warm wet moss and Etho’s deodorant) it’s absolutely Bdubs. He turns to see him, wiping a trail of blood off of his mouth with his suit jacket-- he’d gotten a little aggressive while feeding, made a little mistake, killed a villager, all that. 

“Hi Mumbo-- oh my gosh!” He trips on the last step as he sees the blood. Smells very much like Etho. They must have just stopped hanging out. Why on Earth is he here, then? “W-What the heck? Are you okay?! My god, he’s bleeding everywhere! I don’t know first aid! What should I do?”

His friend frantically runs around, searching for a first aid kit or a potion or anything. It’s quite silly of him. There isn’t even a visible wound. He looks perfectly fine.

“BdoubleO, I’m perfectly fine! Calm down, man!”

He stops so quickly it should leave an indent in the stone. “Then why the heck is there so much blood everywhere, Mumbo? Huh?”

“Just doing my daily feeding is all.” 

“You eat blood?!” He cries out, face paling. The allay part of him makes a distressed chiming sound before he slaps a hand over his mouth, clearly embarrassed. “Is that a thing humans do? I need to ask Iskall next time I see them…” 

What.

“No, it’s a vampire thing, mate… like the first thing people think of when you say vampire.” 

“Oh, Mumbo, you’re such a prankster!” He slaps his knee. “You set this whole thing up just to make a vampire joke? That’s freakin’ rich, man. Do you not have anything else to do?”

His eyes narrow. “No, BdoubleO, I suppose I don’t have anything else to do.” 

“You should probably get a hobby! Just saying!” He chirps very helpfully. The villagers have started to recuperate. Their ire has been forgotten as he turns to stare at them. He hopes his eyes communicate the ‘what the absolute hell?’ sort of vibe he’s going for. They seem just as puzzled as he does, twin puncture wounds on each of their necks. 

He sucks a bit of stray blood off his fang. “You know what, Bdubs? I think you’re right. Maybe my new hobby will be convincing people I’m a vampire.” 

“You’re gonna have to get more convincing than this,” Bdubs gestures to all the blood. “I mean, I thought you were injured or something! Thank goodness you’re not-- though I do know how to take care of it. Licensed first aid and all that.”

He just nods and tries to look very convinced. “I’m sure you do. Now why are you in my trading hall…?” 

Bdubs launches into a rant about how he ran out of building materials halfway through constructing his stable, but all Mumbo can think about is how strange it is that this has happened twice. Do people… really not know?

[synthshenanigans]

Round 7 gang!

-Vote for what you think is more underrated but also what you still like a lot-

[RB for more votes if ye'd like]

[disorderedcritters]

Inktober day 2 !! Overgrown

Admittedly not as overgrown as I wanted but I'm tired as hell today.

Mini rant below cut

Okay, so the idea here is that when Lunar is gone from her garden (due to what takes place in the game) it is left without anyone to care for it and grows over. The idea of the green stuff on the bench and buildings is that it's moss, but I don't know if it looks like that so you might also be able to consider it rot if you want

[demonsteapot]

this took me way longer than it should have

Team pic of the Moss-Eaters, Bronnie's unit. Their main task is dealing with rogue angels before they near settlements, but as Fleur-de-Lune has only two units, they're often sent on smaller errands.

More about everyone here vv

Tethys Bronya Wormwood, in the center, is the team's operator, a term which might imply she stays out of the field but is really quite the opposite. She is the wielder of a magnetic pile bunker (not pictured), a weapon powerful enough to deliver the coup de grâce to a weakened angel.

She's somewhat irritable and keeps to herself – not qualities you might need in a leader – but she's very protective of her team under it all.

Gato Cello, to her left, is one of the team's scout units, and Bronya's longtime best friend and assistant, once a freelance mercenary. Their rather vitriolic friendship started with Cello trying to kill her, which might explain why Bronya makes friends the same way.

Valentine 'Val' Phloem, the leftmost, is the former Princess of Rust, daughter of the kingdom's governing demigod. Demigods are complex things, so I won't go into them now, but Val is essentially a clone of the Queen, and was born – or rather, grown – inside the massive, fleshy being that underlies the Red Royal Capital (and indeed the whole kingdom.) She escaped and found her way to Fleur-de-Lune on the kingdom's outskirts, where she joined the Moss-Eaters. She is rather upbeat compared to her teammates, perhaps since she doesn't take her freedom for granted.

Wielding the chainsaw with which she cut herself free, she is one of the team's combat specialists.

Vivian Leyland, to Bronya's right, is the team's other fighter, and is considered a 'special asset' owing to a degree of magical affinity. He has control over the temperature of blood, which would make him a dangerous opponent if he had any guts at all.

As it stands, he prefers to fight with his archaic weapon of choice, a rainshade given to him by his sister Ling. He was recruited to the Moss-Eaters after Bronya tried to kill him while on dispatch (long story.)

The rightmost is Franni Velasquez, the team's second scout. He is in fact depicted with his weapons here, since he fights with honourable fisticuffs. He wears a smile at all times, but if we're being honest, working with Cello and Bronnie has made him plenty cynical.

A childhood friend of Viv, he joined the Moss-Eaters after Bronya – arguably forcibly, but there were extenuating circumstances �� recruited his buddy. Not that there's much else to do in little Fleur Town.

I'll do a team pic for Catalina's Screwballs, Fleur's... better unit, at some point, but seeing how long this took me it might not be soon. Also, I need to introduce a bunch of new characters for them first.

Okay oc rant over bye <3

[erzsebetrosztoczy]

Mild rant because I need to talk it out into the void.

The thesis not thesising, i just finished the literature, starting tomorrow the questionnaire analysis and I plan to be done with it by the next weekend because my thesis supervisor just announced she will want our writings by march 15, not the end of the month because she will be abroad, so my plan of "one more month" is over, i need to rush meanwhile im trying to balance field practice in the hospital every weekday while also preapring for my state exam with them delicious 92themes FOR JUNE 3.

Like I need to do cell division and have the brain capacity of Megamind to deal with all of this. And im just a silly little girl. I know this should not be the end of the world, heck TÖBB IS VESZETT MOHÁCSNÁL but still this is my biggest challenge and fear for my short ylung life so far and I already developed panic attacks because of academics, what will i do when im working???? Someone poof me out of exiatance please, i want to be a moss rug on the forest floor.

My high anxiety really goes hand in hand with my procrastination to destroy my mental state in my early 20s, aren't they?

Anyway whowever reada this, and also has shit ton of work to do and you are panicing and want to run off to the woods, leviing all responsibility for the strrrong capable ones -- you are not alone as you can see, and I'm sure we'll manage. But first lets disappear into the swamps together, okay?

[encryptedlunacy]

Prime example of every rant I've had about moss collection ever. TW: I'm about to have another, there's a TLDR at the bottom if you don't wanna emerse yourself in it or you're welcome to skip unless you plan on doing this yourself in which case please read on

Despite the praise moss receives for it's "fast spreading" qualities, moss takes an EXTREMELY long time to grow and cutting out a section like this is a huge loss on that patch that will take probably over a year to regenerate.

Moss is so important!!! It not only provides habitats for an abundance of insects and other micro-organisms which sustain the ecosystem and soil health, but are also a vital food source for larger animals due to nutrient rich qualities as well as it's inhabitants!! Birds use moss as a source of nesting material, and some amphibians spawn their young in moss due to it's common growth habits and moisture retention qualities. All of these species need to have enough moss to sustain their populations and that's really difficult to do in it's own right with growing habitat loss without the consumer market taking it a step further. Carving out this much in one sitting - from one area - not only completely destroys any hope another species' may have had for using it but will stress the moss out and this clump likely will not even survive the transition, and the two pieces left by the road may even decay as well.

If that doesn't suffice, moss has so many benefits for the environment, it lays the groundwork for other plants to grow by stabilizing environments and trapping organic matter as it grows to basically make it's own soil for other plants to establish themselves in, filters air far more efficiently than trees and grasses, and can store CO2 for longer and trap nutrients for other organisms to process.

Another important role it plays is that scientists use moss to detect changes in our environment, purify waters and other substances, and restore habitats for other life forms - and all of these different areas are not only vastly more important than aesthetic preferences for a living room, but also require a healthy and thriving population!! Sphagnum(/peat) moss particularly is praised for a lot of different reasons, but if you ever get the chance just research the effects the loss of peat bogs has had on places like Canada and Chile because it's so crazy it's actually ridiculous - and sphagnum is probably the easiest thing in the world to propagate yourself as well!!

When people do this in mass quantities, it can be so harmful to the environment I cannot even begin to tell you. With the rising popularity of moss for the plant/herp community for terrariums, etc, and usefulness in crafting projects, the demand for it is increasing, which means that people are capitalising on an easy source of income by making businesses out of harvesting "fresh moss" as it's a readily available item for them to go out and grab. Etsy is rife with sellers using "fresh wild moss" as a marketing strategy to gather more interest, because hey if it's grown in the wild it's good quality right? And then the moss being distributed by these sellers is likely "foraged" unsustainably and having videos like this where they make this collection process seem so simplistically enjoyable and easy to do encourages other people to do the same. We (and yes I mean we, I'm not gonna stand on a soap box and pretend I'm Florence Nightingale, I've done stupid shit too, we're all learning) are so quick to trust that it's okay to do something because we assume somebody else knows better because they're doing it, and it breeds a whole community of bad practices.

I'm not saying buying moss or collecting moss is bad but PLEASE if you are going to harvest moss, there are so many videos on how to do it so that it doesn't destroy habitats (or at least lessens the damage done) by taking small portions from the middle of a patch where you can pat the other moss down around it to fill the gap and decreases the stress you're putting on it - or better yet! Take small clumps that have already dropped or been picked off by birds (our magpies love chucking moss off the roof, there's nothing we can do to stop them from tearing it up, but we can certainly make sure that it doesn't go to waste.)

There are more videos than I could swing a seal at showing you how to propagate moss as well, simply by cutting it into small pieces, spreading it out across a wider surface area, and you have even more moss to utilise in the future. P l e a s e, I am on my hands and knees begging you to challenge people who are doing this and politely inform them of the destruction it causes.

TLDR: Moss is really important for the environment and we need to make sure we're purchasing CULTIVATED MATERIAL ONLY or harvesting sustainably. Let's stop destroying habitats and harming the environment further!

If you would like yt links to video tutorials or simply channel recommendations I am happy to provide my favourite people I seriously do not mind just stop harming my moss please

DIY Terrarium

[valscodblog]

ℙ𝕀𝕊𝕋𝕆𝕃𝔸 -Part two

Warnings: Mentions of death (obvi-it's call of duty y'all.), in-depth past explanation, OC being forced to take up a role she never wanted, very very very VERY slight mentions of sexual themes (like-one or two sentences), trust issues at it's finest, and that's around it.

Alejandro Vargas x OC

Credits to OC: ME MYSELF AND IIIIIII~~ (Uhm-anyways-)

[{TAGS! <3 : @seconds-over-first @thebunnednun @writing-with-moss }]

Alejandro felt like he had been shot through the heart. "I-What have I ever done to you, to make you reluctant to trust me, Linda?" Maria shook her head, "It's-It's not you, Alejandro...it's just-personal." Alejandro nodded. "I understand. Yo Entiendo." Maria gave him a soft smile-she smiled!-and then walked away. Alejandro nearly died right then. Rodolfo smirked at put a hand on Alejandro's shoulder. " Su maldito desesperado, coronel," Rudy joked, and his higher-up sighed. "Yo se, Rudy...Pero...." "Pero Nada, Amigo. You love her. That's it." "Not so loud, Pendejo!" "We're mexican! We're loud!" "Parra!" "Okay, okay! Don't kill me, Alejandro!" "Mhhh, i should...I really should. But-alas, I can't."

"Say-Pistola, why do they call ye tha', aye?" "Because." "It means Poistol, doon'it?" Soap asked, "So that means-ye must be handy wit one!" Maria groaned and rubbed her face. "If i say yes, will you shut up?" "Nay, prolly not, bonnie." "Don't call me bonnie-" "Bonnie, bon-bon, bonnibell, bonnie-boo," Soap teased, and Maria looked over to Alejandro and mouthed, "Im going to kill you, Pendejo." He just laughed. Maria looked back over to Ghost and Soap-who were...flirting? Talking? How could you tell, honestly? "...Are you two...Novios?" "Huh?" Ghost said, quirking a brow up, "I asked if you two are dating, Fantasma." Ghost shook his head. "No-why would we be?" He snorted, and Soap laughed. "Okay...Although, I hope you two know, that I will be teasing you now." "Aboot...?" "Dating. Because y'all act like a married couple."

"Hey-quick question-why'd'ye sound like yer from Texas or sum?" Ghost asked, and Maria gave him a deadpan stare. "...The border? I live on the fuckin' Boarder?" Maria said, quirking a brow of her own up. Ghost then put his brow back down and then raised both of them this time, "Ah..." what was he supposed to say after a lady just told you that and clearly wasn't liking you? "So-You grew up knowing how to fight, Alejandro says." "Yeah. I did..." Ghost sighed.

"Well-" "If your trying to flirt with me, i suggest you learn a few new pick up lines other than whatever the fuck your on, Ghost." Simon blinked. "Love, i assure you, I'm not takin' a shinin' t'ya." "Good. Because I'm not on the market." "Oh?" Well, she's interesting...Simon sorta was starting to like her. "So..." "So?" "...What's anotha way to say "I came inside of a woman," Pistola?" "...What?" "Loadin' tha dishwasha." And Pistola nearly laughed, but she caught herself and just choose to quirk a brow up and shut her eyes. "Funny." and Ghost smiled behind his mask-but not a nice one, oh no. An annoyed one.

"Hmm, your not laughin' though?" "Yeah-lost my ability to year ago." "Ooh...damn, thats gotta suck f'ya, Lovie." "Oh yeah, it does."

And Alejandro looked over to Maria and frowned. "Here we go..." he muttered to Rudy. Rudy shook his head before saying, "She's not a litle kid, Amigo. She can flirt if she wants-" "Not with that gringo!" "Alejandro!" "....Mhhhph, I just don't like how she won't even look at me half the time i talk to her-but this, this guy! He just shows up and it's all 'Ohh let me stare at him-let me make eye contact!' Like, Pendeja! Por favor, why do you treat him like an old friend, huh?"

and Rudy leaned into Alejandro, arm on shoulder, and said, "Jelous, Ale?" "No-why?" "...Pinche mentiroso..." "No soy!" "Si tu eres! You ranting like-" "Dont." "Si, senor..." Alejandro went back to looking at Maria, whom was still talking to ghost and Soap. He hummed again before saying, "Alright, maybe i am...just a little. Un Puco." Rudy grinned. "First step's admitting it, Alejandro." "Yo se..."

"Right-so...what do I say, Alejandro?" Maria mumbled, more to herself than anything, really. BUt the man caught it and said, "You introduce yourself, tell them your New rank, Maria, and tell them you'll be leading this squad. Okay, mi amor?" "Not your love." And Alejandro sighed softly. "You know how i mean it, Maria...right?" "Claro que si. I just-don't. Just don't, okay?" "Claro, Maria." "Grasias, Ale-" "Maria! Here you are, thought we lost ya!" "Juan Price." "Erm-it's John." "Oh, so sorry, I'm Mexican, Sir." "It's fine, it's fine." "John Price! Ey, one capitan, to another, this is the easy part." "True..."

Alejandro quirked a brow up. "You two, know each other?" "We've met, yes. Back in, what was it?" "Ahh, good ol' Brittan-the country side, right?" "Indeed," Price agreed, smiling. "By the way! How's it coming along for you?" Maria asked, Price sighed and shook his head. "Hassan's still causing problems, so what does that tell you?" "Horrid." "Worse than." "Oof, i feel for you, John." "So, when-"

"Maria, it's time," Alejandro said into her ear and she said, "Fine fine...Sorry John we'll have to catch up later. I have to meet new squad." "Steaming Jesus-right before a mission?" "It's my family curse-we're alwasy last minuet and the people around us are affected too." "Well-i'll let you go before i get affected, huh?" "Hmph, yeah, see you, Price." and Maria walked away. Alejandro stayed behind and said, "That scoff? That's her laugh...consider yourself a trusted allay to Los Vaqueros now, Price." and he clapped John on the shoulder, shook it, and then let go and jogged to catch up to Maria.

Rodolfo was there, already telling the squad a new Captain was to command them and the rest of Maria's new squad just tensed. A new Captain? Oh, Jesus, that was never good...the last one was dead, sure, but this new one? They would have to learn how to read and how to act around this new person.

Or so they thought. It was just Maria.

"Oh! The Corp finally moved up, huh?" Private Diaz asked, and Maria sighed, "Here we go..."

"WHy now, out of all times?"

"HOW DID SHE GET TO MAKE THAT BIG OF A MOVE?"

"Wow...she really just left us in the dust, sucking off Alejandro must help a fair ton."

"For real. Prolly added in a few extra rounds to ensure her new place too."

Alejandro quirked a brow up and was about to say something when Maria shouted, "IF YOU LOVE YOUR MOM'S, SHUT IT!" and everyone shut up-minus one rookie who thought she was joking around.

BANG!

"Any? Body? Else?" Maria asked, her single hand still holding her pistol sideways. The person who spoke had been shot in the leg. "No? Good...now, rule one, i ever hear you talking behind my back again, you'll end up worse than that boy there, okay? Bueno. Dos, listen to rule one." Everyone nodded.

"Maria-that wasn't legal." "And what are you going to say, huh? Nada because if you report me, you'll be asked why you didn't step in." and Rudy shut up. "Damn-she's better than I thought at this," Alejandro said, smiling proudly.

"Well...let's get this mission over with and the lines drawn, yeah?" Maria muttered, Alejandro nodded...but as he started to explain, Maria started to zone out, she didn't feel safe, and this is how she dealt with that feeling.

"Ma? ...Mama? M-...MAMA?" Maria shouted, running into her mother's room as she heard what sounded like fighting. "Mami-mami!" her little brother screamed-in pain. "Eres igual que tu papá, chico..."

"MAMA-ALTO! Whatever he did-"

"No hablo ingles a Me, nina..."

Maria just stared at her mother-not hearing anything but the high pitched ringing in her ears. She had to run-hide. After she was done with her brother-she was next. and in for worse. Maria did run-into the room. She grabbed her four year old brother and then, as fast as her legs could carry the both of them, she ran out of the bedroom and down the stairs. She ran to the front door, and tried to open it-locked. She unlocked it but her brother wouldn't stop fighting her movements. "You'll just make it worse, Hermana! Stop-please!" "Shhh, dont speak English, Nino! Why do you think your being beat!?" and her brother shut up and chose just to sob into her shoulder. "Poor thing...if only Dad-"

"Tu padre ya no está aquí, no estará por mucho tiempo… Ya tendré tiempo…Es hora de pensar en una mentira… Es hora de hacer que parezca un accidente..."

No-Nononono-She heard the trigger of a gun and then she heard the recoil. It didn't hit her, however. "...Alex?" "Ma...Ri...A..." was his last word and Maria snapped. Thirteen, and she snapped. She dropped her little brother and charged at the drunken woman. Her mother was skinny-she wasn't. She had been working out for the last three years in secret. She threw a punch to her mother and her mom took it harshly. She toppled over, dropping the gun. It would've been funny to Maria if she wasn't so far gone in the moment. Maria then picked up the gun and said, "I'll talk how i want-and just so you know, Dad will know...and then he'll see to it that you get what you deserve..."

"Live, Pendeja...Live knowing I only let you becuase your husband and the god you so claim to love will punish you. They'll punish you so harshly-so badly...that you wish that i killed you-that one day, when we meet again, you will Beg Me to kill you...understand me? And know, that I no longer am a fucking Rodriguez, but instead, a Sanchez-como me Papa!" Maria said, sounding ever so calmly. She then laid the gun down on her mother's chest, and left the house.

She never went back. She found her uncle, and asked to stay with him instead, and her uncle, the evil bastard said yes. So she lived with him and was trained by him for War.

"Maria-MARIA SANCHEZ! Are you listening to a word that Alejandro just said to you?" Maria blinked and muttered, "Que?" Rodolfo sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Alejandro-get your damn girlfriend." Alejandro, who had been talking to one of the rookies, looked over and said, "No eres mi novia, Rudy...solo una amiga importante." And Maria groaned, "Shut it, Alejandro."

Maria walked away and muttered, "I have to stop zoning out..." Alejandro jogged after her-again. "Alejandro-" "I know what your going to say, so just don't! Instead, Escuchame!" Maria nodded, but kept walking. "So...Maria...do you, uhhm..Wanna go get something to eat after this?" Maria stopped dead. "You asking me out, Alejandro?" Alejandro sighed, "Not like-romanticly or anything! Just-you know, a couple of friends going out to eat." Maria laughed softly and said, "You know, I don't trust that...just us two-and i've never seen you outside of work...i don't know you-and you don't know me, Ale."

"I know-pero-i wanna take you out, okay? Tu eres muy linda, bonita, ermosa, and not to seem like im kissing your ass or anything but-" "Vargas. Your already kissing my ass." "Oh, shhh! Let a man talk to you for once, Maria!" Maria laughed again before nodding. "Sure, Vargas. Talk." "Grasias! Dios mio...okay, where was I?" "Oh so this was rehersed?" "In the mirror to myself." "Alejandro Vargas!" "What? Im telling you the truth!"

"Oh my god, fine! I'll go out with you-but no where cheap! Make an impression if you want this chica to stay around. Dont ask or tell me where, just take me. Okay?" and she winked.

Alejandro felt like he had been shot through the heart again-but this time...by cupid's bow.

[nirikeehan]

re: bad things happen bingo - do overdose for cullen. Fucking do it

Okay, you MONSTER. I did it.

lmao actually this is a double feature of pain, combining this prompt with one from @platoonharmonica who asked for "overdose" for Cullen and Samson. This is part one; part two will be out soon!

For @dadrunkwriting and @badthingshappenbingo

Overdose, Part One: A Little Grace

Series: Dragon Age: Inquisition

Characters & Pairings: Cullen Rutherford/Thalia Trevelyan, Cassandra Pentaghast, Raleigh Samson, brief mention of Thalia/Blackwall

Word Count: 4562 - enjoy this hefty serving of whump

CW: This is what it says on the tin, fam. Drug addiction, near death experience, PTSD, it's all in here. I actually put some comfort in my hurt/comfort this time though, so there's that.

Now with an AO3 link if you’d rather read it there!

---

Cullen was not in his office.

Thalia froze, her exuberant pace halted by the empty tower. There was his desk, cluttered with papers; there were his bookcases, crammed with tomes and military treatises. His chess set sat on a low shelf, where he left it after their last game. Candles flickered in their candelabras.

She called his name, to silence. She climbed the ladder to his deserted bedchamber, as neat as always. Thalia slid down the ladder and landed soundly, a lump in her throat. There was no reason to panic. He could have stepped out for a breath of fresh air, or an unexpected issue may have arisen at the soldier camp. Still, something about the thick silence unsettled her. Cullen rarely went anywhere without notice.

Thalia poked her head out onto the battlements, spotted an aide.

“Have you seen the Commander?” She kept her tone light.

“He’s not there?” said the aide, surprised.

Thalia thanked him with a smile and implored him not to worry. If this was some misunderstanding, she did not want to be the hysterical girlfriend who raised the alarm against an imagined peril. She shut the wooden door and leaned against it, shoulders slumping. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. She could still smell him here: the faint scent of elderflower, oak moss and other tinctures he took for the pain. He’s been doing well, she reminded herself.

She crossed to his desk, prickled by guilt. It was unfair to look through his belongings without permission. Admonishments ran in her head as she rummaged among reports and manifests and writing implements. Couldn’t she just trust him? Things had finally begun to settle down after Adamant and Halamshiral, not to mention the nightmare with Blackwall — No, Thom Rainier, she thought, every syllable of the unfamiliar name a jagged edge. Cullen had been there for Thalia through it all, and she for him, during the long lyrium withdrawal and the uncertainty that came with it.

She had even helped him track his old colleague, Samson, once a templar like Cullen, now an agent of Corypheus. It had thrilled her to work beside Cullen on that mission, like a secret blooming between them. Fueled at first by her burgeoning affection, solidified by their deepening mutual feelings, they had stalked the man relentlessly, often pouring over clues deep into the night. Perhaps that was the reason she had never shared her unease with anyone when Cullen ranted about destroying Samson, focused to the point of obsession. She had to gently remind him of the signs that pointed to Samson’s enduring humanity.

He used to be Cullen’s friend, she had marveled grimly. It must be difficult to lose a comrade-in-arms to their sworn enemy, but it still smarted to contemplate getting on Cullen’s bad side — and how easy that might have been, back when he was a templar and she a Circle mage.

Like a conjured spirit, there was the letter from Samson, centered on the desk. Thalia stilled. Cullen had never let her see it at the Shrine of Dumat; he had only summarized its contents with a sarcastic flourish before tucking it away. Why would he still have it? And leave it here, as if he’d been studying it? She had assumed he burned it.

She tilted her head at the messy cursive.

Cullen,

Drink enough lyrium and its song reveals the truth. You ought to put your ear to the ground and listen. The Chantry used us, chewed us up and spat us out, left us husks of our former selves. I still see it in your eyes. I could have saved you, but you refused.

You’re fighting the wrong battle. All your Inquisition’s hollow posturing will lead to nothing but ruin. Your Inquisitor is a false prophet, just like Andraste. Corypheus chose me as his general and his vessel of power. You will be defeated, and I will ascend to the right hand of a god. I would show you mercy, if you only knew how to prostrate yourself and beg.

If you truly believe you are superior, why not face me? Alone. You remember the Wounded Coast, I’m sure. You know where to go.

Samson

Thalia could scarcely breathe. The Wounded Coast outside Kirkwall was a fell place, full of treacherous cliffs and abandoned coves, hideouts for all manner of riff raff. Cullen had lived there for the better part of a decade. If that was where he’d gone, she didn’t know how she would ever find him. Surely he wouldn’t be so stupid as to fall for such an obvious trap?

Something is different with him and Samson. The thought chilled her, but it was true. Cullen was loyal to the Inquisition, but there was a part of him that he kept away from her and everyone else. It stemmed from the horror that had befallen him at Kinloch Hold, but spiraled out beyond that, to Kirkwall and the Templar Order and who knew what else.

I could have saved you, but you refused. Were these truly just the ravings of a madman?

Thalia scanned the letter. One line drew her eye again and again. She read in a whisper, “Drink enough lyrium and its song reveals the truth.”

A tingle of fear ran down her arms and into her fingers. Thalia dropped into a crouch and put her hand on the bottom drawer of Cullen’s desk. Weeks ago, she had watched him lock it and pocket the key, promising he would no longer pull out the small ceremonial box and contemplate its contents.

But there’s still lyrium in there, she had pointed out. She’d wanted to confiscate the bottle and throw it out over Skyhold’s walls, but he hadn’t let her.

I need to know it’s there, he said.

Why?

I need to know it’s there and I don’t need it.

She pulled at the drawer. It slid open. Inside was the box, clasps undone, ajar. “No,” Thalia pleaded. “No, no, no.” She tore at it, nearly snapping off a hinge. She knocked aside the wooden statue of Andraste. At the bottom, the glass lyrium cylinder lay on its side, uncapped and empty.

Thalia jumped to her feet and ran. She went out the door, down the stone steps, across the courtyard, toward Herald’s Rest. “Cassandra,” she screamed as she rounded the tavern. “Cassandra.”

Alarmed, the older woman straightened from hitting a dummy with a practice sword. “What is it?”

Thalia doubled over, gasping for breath. Since their ignominious meeting after the Conclave explosion, she and Cassandra had never seen eye-to-eye — not on the Chantry, nor the Inquisition, nor who should succeed Justinia as Divine. Their only common ground, it seemed, was caring about Cullen. The secret of his lyrium addiction bound them closer than Thalia liked. Once she had chafed under the connection; now she feared Cassandra was the only one who could help.

The words came tumbling from her mouth: Cullen gone, Samson’s letter, the drained lyrium bottle. Cassandra listened with stoic poise until the final detail. Her face darkened with anger, but behind her scowl, fear flashed in her eyes.

“Damn that man and his pride.” Cassandra dropped her sword and grasped Thalia’s shoulders. “Inquisitor, you must calm down if we are to find him.”

Thalia’s eyes filled with tears. “What if it’s too late? What if he’s already gone to confront Samson?”

“That is impossible. Cullen is our commander. There’s no way he could leave Skyhold without anyone seeing.”

Cassandra spoke with such confidence that it did abate Thalia’s panic. She pulled away, pressed her fingers to her forehead, tried to think. “So if he’s still within Skyhold’s walls, but no one’s seen him, where could he be?”

Thalia paced in the grass. Cassandra drew herself up to her full height, and inhaled sharply. “The lyrium stores.”

Panic shot down Thalia’s spine. “You don’t think…?”

“Maker, I hope I’m mistaken.” Cassandra took her by the elbow. “Come. We must be swift.”

The cellar below the armory smelled of must; its damp stone walls muffled the sound of rushing water from the adjacent dungeons. Cassandra led the charge down the stairs, Thalia at her heels. Two Inquisition soldiers stood outside one of many store rooms which housed food, drink, linens, and other bulk supplies for a keep of Skyhold’s size. Only the lyrium stores required an armed guard.

“Have you seen Commander Cullen?” Cassandra demanded with stinging authority.

The soldiers exchanged glances. “Y-yes, Seeker,” said one. “He requested entrance not one hour ago.”

“Step aside,” Cassandra commanded. “And let no one pass unless Lady Thalia or I give you leave. Is that understood?”

“But Seeker Pentaghast, the— the Commander—”

“If he tries to leave, detain him,” Thalia spoke up over Cassandra’s shoulder. She understood Cassandra’s logic, as much as it pained her. “By order of the Inquisitor.”

“Yes, your worship.” The soldiers bowed in unison and moved.

The room was dim, with only one sconce lighted by the door. A cerulean glow illuminated the rest, the bottles stacked in neat rows on the shelves that lined the aisles. There was so much lyrium the air itself hummed.

They found him face down in the back, below a bare shelf, surrounded by empty bottles. Thalia stood transfixed, reminded of the stone shrines she’d seen throughout Thedas: dotted with flowers and trinkets in offering, peaceful and still.

Then Cassandra shouted his name, and Thalia startled out of her daze. She threw herself down beside him, the glass cylinders scattering. “Cullen. Cullen, wake up.”

Cassandra knelt on his other side. It took both of them to turn him onto his back. His eyes were closed, face sweaty and pale, mouth slightly parted. Thalia shook him. “Cullen, please.”

“Maker have mercy, how much did he take?” Cassandra’s dark eyes were huge with horror.

Thalia lowered her ear to his face. Her stomach clenched. “He’s not breathing.”

“What?” Something broke loose inside Cassandra. She rose on her haunches, swung back her arm, and slapped Cullen across the face. “Commander. Stop this nonsense at once!”

His head lolled, but he did not stir. Thalia frantically pressed her fingers to his neck, searching for a heartbeat.

“This is my fault,” Cassandra muttered. “I pushed him into this position, put too much pressure on him to—”

“Cassandra,” Thalia cut in, her voice high and thin. “I can’t find a pulse. We need to do something or we’re going to lose him.”

The words shook Cassandra out of her panic. “I’ll get a medic.”

“Wait, no.” Thalia grabbed Cassandra’s arm as she tried to rise. Waiting for a healer would take too long. They had a minute or two, if that. “Help me get his armor off.”

Cassandra looked at her as if she’d gone mad.

“Electrical charge.” Thalia summoned a bit of magic and held up a sparking hand. “I had a professor at the Circle tell me once that electricity in small doses can restart a human heart.”

Cassandra looked from her to Cullen. His lips were turning blue. “How will you know the correct amount?”

I don’t. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Cullen would not consent to the use of magic on his person—”

“He’s dying, Cassandra.” A sob caught in Thalia’s throat. “I can’t lose him too. I can’t.”

She leaned over, yanked at Cullen’s fur-lined overcoat so she could reach the straps to his breastplate. Cassandra stood stricken, but only for a moment. Then she crouched down and assisted with deft hands. They removed his breastplate and bracers, anything that could conduct electricity. He lay limply in a thin tunic, head canted at an unnatural angle. Thalia had seen him without his armor before, but he’d never looked so fragile.

She slid over to his torso, rubbed her palms together to build up a charge. “Stay by his head,” she told Cassandra. “Be ready to catch him. The jolt might—” She blinked against a vision blurring with tears. “Might make him seize.”

Cassandra pressed her lips together, face blanched and full of doubt, but she did as Thalia said.

Please, Thalia prayed. She wasn’t sure to whom. Faith in the Maker had eluded her for years. Ever since her placement in the Ostwick Circle, he had never answered her pleas. Even the title branded upon her — the Herald of Andraste — she had balked against. She resolutely believed the shimmering figure in the Fade was not the bride of the Maker, or even Divine Justinia, but an opportunistic spirit playing tricks on the eye. In her opinion, people made their own luck, usually at the expense of others.

Yet Cullen had maintained his belief in the Andrastian religion, despite having every reason to spurn it: the abuses of the Chantry, the cruelties of the Templar Order, the shackles of lifelong addiction because of a decision he’d made at thirteen years old. None of it was fair, but somehow he was able to see past the petty affairs of men and believe in something purer — something that involved her. Thalia closed her eyes and prayed, not to her god, but his.

She pressed her palms to his chest.

His torso jumped into the air. Cassandra caught his head before his skull slammed into the stone floor. Cradling his temples in her hands, she gasped, “Did it work?”

Thalia leaned down, listened at his ribs for a heartbeat. Nothing. Maybe she hadn’t used enough.

“Get back,” she said. “I’m trying again.”

A second jolt, and the air took on an ionized scent.

“Please, Cullen. Just breathe, please.” Thalia gritted her teeth. With her ear to his chest she heard only silence. She straightened. “Again.”

“Inquisitor.” Cassandra had her fingers entwined in Cullen’s hair, her face awash in pity. “He would not want you to belabor the inevitable.”

“No,” Thalia snarled. “Get back, Cassandra. This isn’t how this ends.”

“How much more can his body take?” Tears shone in Cassandra’s eyes. “With that much lyrium in his system, and now you’re electrocuting him—”

“I’m trying to save him,” Thalia cried.

“You cannot save everyone!”

“Watch me.”

She gave Cassandra a vicious shove. The older woman tumbled backward. Thalia slammed her palms against Cullen’s ribs and sent forth a shock that reverberated in her bones. He seized violently, and lay still.

It was no use. The certainty of it threatened to swallow her whole: she had come this far on this strange, hellish journey, only to lose the one solid rock she’d had to lean on from the start. She hated herself for taking him for granted, for being distant while Blackwall stole her heart and broke it, for all the things she neglected to do to help him fight. Thalia threw her arms around him and held him tightly, buried her face in his collarbone to stifle her weeping.

Above her head, Cullen took a shuddering breath.

Thalia shot upright. Cassandra grabbed her arm. “Was that—?”

The two women paused, holding their own breaths. Below them, Cullen’s chest rose and fell softly. The color began to return to his cheeks.

“He’s alive,” Thalia whispered.

“He’s alive,” Cassandra agreed.

The guards found them a few minutes later, each hugging Cullen’s unconscious form and sobbing.

---

A cold breeze blew on his face, rousing him. Cullen blinked once, twice. He was in his quarters, in bed. He turned his gaze toward the source of the wind — the hole in the ceiling — and regretted it. The light from outside set off a staggering headache deep in his eye sockets.

He stifled a moan and tried to roll over, but his limbs felt sluggish and uncooperative. He squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again he saw Thalia and Cassandra, each slumped in a chair as if they had been here for some time. Thalia paged through a tome with some High Tevinter title, while Cassandra sat with a hand propped up under her chin, staring at the melting wax on a tallow candle.

Cassandra looked over first. “Inquisitor,” she cried, “he’s awake.”

Thalia fumbled and dropped the book. The thud echoed through Cullen’s skull. He grimaced until the pounding subsided. His mouth felt unwieldy and his tongue as if he’d swallowed sawdust. He tried to find his voice. “Water?”

“Of course.” Thalia uncorked a jug and poured some into a shallow bowl. She pulled her chair closer to his bedside. Cassandra rose and approached, hovering beyond her shoulder.

With great effort, Cullen pushed himself upright. “Easy, don’t overdo it,” Thalia cautioned. He tried take the bowl, but his hand shook so violently she snatched it back before he could spill it. He drank with the bowl held to his lips, and fell back against the pillow in a sweat.

Cullen pressed his palm against his eyes. “What… happened?”

The women exchanged glances. “You don’t remember?” Thalia asked gently.

He shook his head. This seemed to anger Cassandra. Her lips twisted into an indignant sneer. “The medic tells us you drank enough lyrium to kill a druffalo.”

“Cassandra,” Thalia hissed.

Yes, that would do it. Bits and pieces returned — the desperate hunger and the chill, the blue haze lingering at the edges of his vision. And the familiar warmth of the hit, the deep soul embrace, like coming home after so long. The music of it pulsing through him: beautiful, euphoric.

His recollection faltered after that, but the truth was etched on their faces. Shame welled inside him, white hot and ugly.

“I failed you both, and the Inquisition.” Cullen tried to sound poised, but a haggard breath sent him into a coughing fit. When he recovered, he added, “I’ll tender my resignation, effective immediately—”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Cassandra snapped. “You’ve been unconscious for two days, during which everyone thinks you’ve gone to visit an ailing relative. You’ll use your leave of absence to recover and think on your actions, and then you will return to work, Commander. We are too close to Corypheus and his general to hire a replacement now.” She turned to Thalia. “I’ll go tell Leliana and Josephine he’s woken up. Maker knows they’ve been worried sick.”

Cullen said nothing. He watched Thalia, who bit her lip the way she did when holding back a sardonic retort. They remained silent until Cassandra climbed down the ladder and the clomping of her boots faded.

“How many know?” he asked softly.

“Cassandra and I,” Thalia said. “The medic who treated you. And Leliana and Josephine, obviously. We had to tell them, so we could figure out what to do with the… the soldiers who saw you. In the store room.”

Another piece of the puzzle revealed. He had a flash of the glowing bottles on the shelves, singing their siren calls. “‘Do with’?”

“Hefty bonuses and a cushy transfer, far away from Skyhold,” Thalia said. “In exchange for their silence.”

Cullen let out a weary sigh. “Anyone else?”

“Iron Bull,” she admitted. “We had to get you up the ladder somehow.”

Cullen laughed mirthlessly. He scrubbed a hand from his brow to chin, where the razor stubble was threatening to become a full beard. His cheek pulsed with pain, as if he’d touched a bruise. “Why does the side of my face hurt?”

A sad smile crossed Thalia’s lips. “Oh. Cassandra tried to smack you back to life.”

“Back to life?”

He thought she was being hyperbolic, but when she met his gaze tears welled in her eyes. “You almost died, Cullen. I’ve never been so scared. I really thought— I thought that was it.” Her face crumpled. “What on earth were you thinking?”

The accusation in her tone might as well have been another blow. Cullen saw himself as she must: untrustworthy, dangerous, a liability. An addict. He ground his teeth together. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“No, you know who I don’t understand? People like Thom Rainier. People who keep secrets from me when the situation could be resolved if they just told the truth.” She leaned forward and clasped his hand between hers. The warmth of her touch startled him; his own limbs were like ice. “Please, Cullen, don’t shut me out. I want to help you. You don’t have to carry this by yourself.”

She brought his hand to her mouth and kissed the back of his palm. Cullen fought a strange urge to cry. “I don’t deserve you, my love.”

“It’s not about what we deserve,” Thalia said quietly. “It’s about what we do with the time given to us."

He raised his free hand, trembling, to her cheek. With his thumb he traced the curve of the tattoo forced upon her at the Ostwick Circle. There had been a time when he would have praised the practice and the templar who devised it — a fail-safe plan to identify mages in case their phylacteries were ever compromised. Now he worried if he met those responsible, he might kill them with his bare hands.

“Lie with me,” he whispered. “Please?”

She removed her boots and scrambled up onto the bed. She pressed herself against his body. The heat radiating from her felt like it could purge him, make him clean again. She wrapped her arms around his chest and put her head in the space between his chin and shoulder. His fingers found the plaits of her auburn hair, pinned to her head in intricate patterns. He held her and tried not to hate himself for what he had done.

“I have a confession to make,” Thalia said after awhile, muffled by his neck.

“Oh?” Cullen angled his head to take in her blue eyes, watching him with trepidation.

“I — when you were… you know. I used magic to, to revive you,” Thalia stammered. “Cassandra said you wouldn’t give permission to have magic performed on you. Is that— that’s because of Uldred, isn’t it?”

He tensed. It had been ten years, and just hearing the man’s name still propelled him close to panic. “Yes,” he said, with some effort. It was true — and Cassandra knew — that spells in the healing arts were difficult for him to tolerate, for the same reason he often couldn’t breathe in small, windowless spaces.

“I’m so sorry. I never thought to ask. But I… I didn’t know what else to do.” She let out a nervous sigh. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“I hardly think you should be the one worried about forgiveness,” Cullen said. “What you did saved my life, didn’t it?”

Swallowing hard, Thalia nodded.

“Then don’t apologize. The fault is mine. I shouldn’t have— lost control like that.” The more he thought about it, the worse he felt. It was grossly irresponsible, wholly selfish — and to have her apologize for saving him? “Maker, I should have been stronger.”

She brushed her fingers along his jaw. “What is it like?”

“Hmm?”

Thalia hesitated. “Needing the lyrium. You said I wouldn’t understand, but I want to.”

How could he explain, how the whole world faded to shades of blue, and everything came second to quelling the desire? That it became a beast that gnawed on him the longer he denied it? “I don’t know if I have the words. When I was in the Templar Order, it was just something we inherently understood among ourselves.”

“Like you and Samson,” Thalia whispered.

“What?” Hearing the name on her lips shook him. “What did you say?”

Thalia took a deep breath and met his gaze. “Cullen, I found the letter from Samson. In your office.”

Oh. There it was, the final piece he’d been missing. Sitting hunched over the parchment, reading the words over and over, the fury growing in him. How dare Samson taunt him so, and claim the right of the divine while he was at it?

“Thalia, I… I never meant for you to see that.” The shame coursed through him anew. The commander of an army should not be moved by such petty propaganda, and yet he’d been unable to destroy the letter. For weeks he’d ruminated on it, powerless to dispel it from his mind. Samson had always had that effect on him — he had a way of stating inconvenient truths with crass carelessness. Despite a slip into the delusional, that essence of Samson still shone through in his prose.

“Were you really planning to confront him?” Thalia’s eyes were wide with fear.

Small wisps of hair fell loose to frame her pale face. Cullen wanted to reach out and smooth them, to comfort her, tell her he hadn’t been contemplating a monumentally risky gamble — maybe the riskiest the Inquisition had ever known.

“Not alone,” he said at last.

“Cullen.” Thalia sat up and glared at him. “Are you insane?”

No, he wanted to say. Just an addict. That had been the play: arrive on the Wounded Coast with a well-armed retinue, wait to see if Samson showed. They had the means to weaken his armor, thanks to Dagna. But someone like Samson could not be stopped so easily. For that, one would have to be in peak condition, physically and mentally — and Cullen never was, without the lyrium. It was a glaring tactical flaw, no matter which way he looked at it.

And the perfect excuse.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I thought I could beat him at his own game.”

“How? By taking lyrium?” When he couldn’t deny it, Thalia shook her head angrily. “Has it ever occurred to you that’s exactly what he wanted? To break you, remove you from the board entirely, and leave the Inquisition in chaos?”

Cullen frowned. “No. I don’t think so. He doesn’t know I’ve quit, for a start. Besides…”

Thalia raised an eyebrow. “Besides?”

“I think a part of him means it. Wants me to see things his way… and join him.”

Thalia exhaled slowly. “He’s tried this before, hasn’t he?”

“How did you know?” Cullen asked, surprised.

“He said so in the letter.” She recited it with chilling precision: “‘I could have saved you, but you refused.’”

Cullen cast his gaze to the ceiling. Evening had fallen over Skyhold, the air from outside colder than ever. He wanted to burrow under the blankets and block out everything, especially this line of inquiry. “Yes, he tried. Once. Before I understood what any of it meant.”

Thalia’s horrified expression was difficult to take. “Maker, Cullen, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I made a mistake. A terrible one, and I’m paying for it to this day.” Rage, his old friend, had returned, coiling itself along his ribcage. His tone turned mocking. “The price I paid for mercy.”

She watched him with an expression akin to pity. Slowly, she lowered herself back down at his side. “Tell me what happened. Please.”

Cullen sighed, pulling her close. He had spent so much of his life alone that it awed him sometimes, how natural it felt to have her here, in his arms. “It’s a long story.”

She leaned over and kissed his temple. “Then you’re lucky I’ve got all night.”

Images and emotions floated through his psyche as he struggled to find the words. Too often he locked them up, shut them down, swept them under a mental rug that always looked a bit like the carpet in Meredith’s office.

Meredith’s office, he thought. Well, that’s as good a place to start as any.

Cullen opened his mouth and began to speak.

---

Part Two is now up here!

A few random notes:

Inspired by the absolute terror that hits me when a BioWare NPC is not where they’re supposed to be.

I always found it interesting that Samson left Cullen a letter at the Shrine of Dumat and he refuses to let you see it. It seemed to hit him harder than he wanted to let on. I took the few lines of it from Cullen's dialogue and fleshed out the rest to suit my evil purposes.

What good is having electricity magic if you don’t use it to defibrillate your boyfriend?