#penance for the war crimes

[rad-twister]

i had such an embarrassing crush on him when i was 14. and unfortunately i still think he’s hot 💀💀💀

[callsign-relic]

okay okay okay hi. hello. cityformer/titan!megatron being forced to walk forever as penance... relic your mind <33 the concept is so good and also very sad auuauugh!!

like you said the obvious answer for a cityspeaker is the reader insert but i also feel like itd be cool if it was a canon character AND if you really wanted to include a reader then they come in as a human who's somehow crash landed on cybertron and discovers Megatron The Megastructure and his cityspeaker <3 (multiple size class interactions!!) PUT A PIN IN THAT. I'LL COME BACK TO IT. LATER. after that ask from not a request anon (... N.A.R.A.?) i also got brain blasted.

anyway, for canon cityspeaker candidates, there are so many fun options... like Optimus!especially if it's post-war and Megatron is meant to be atoning for his crimes,, like imagine an iteration of OP that knows know to lead a war but not a civilization, one who still feels infinite compassion for his old friend enemy, and decides to join him on his eternal journey. (after all, he has done his fair share of crimes himself, has he not? such is war.)

man. was Megatron always a titan? Or is this a new development? imagine being scattered into a mind and body so much bigger than you're used to... auuagh either way it'd be really tragic is Megatron is outfitted with renewable power generators that produce just enough energy for him to keep him trudging forwards forever... again, alive and hungry (literally). OP stays with him through it all, taking care of him and talking to him even if he rarely gets a response now. OP reciting stories he remembers from both Cybertron and the many worlds they have visited, all to keep him company.

...... that is, unless of course Megatron was ALWAYS a titan and OP is ALSO a titan elsewhere (also fun!)

in which case I'd like to pitch it as post-IDW in the "bad ending" for the Lost Light (no quantum jump) where Rodimus eventually ends up as his cityspeaker. equally as sad but perhaps theres an element of "one day, i'll get you out of here and we'll go adventuring through the stars again." after all, co-captains stick together right?

- initiate

OUUGH GRIPPING YOU BY THE SHOULDERSSSS (POSITIVELY). THESE ARE ALL SO GOOD IM GOING INSANE

YESSS YESS the multisize possibilities are endless… imagining being led into a city by your bot friend, carried in their massive hand as they stroll inside, saying they were gonna introduce you to a friend. You walk around for what seems like hours, and finally you ask how much longer they think it’ll take to get there. They pause, and look at you curiously. “Oh, I guess I never mentioned it. This is him,” as they gesture towards the city.

But that idea aside. HOUUGHH CITYSPEAKER OPTIMUS,,, god imagine that. Him essentially learning a whole new way of life just so he can join Megatron on his endless journey…

And oughhh Megatron being reformatted to fit into a titan frame would be insane… his spark is somehow expanded to fit inside the massive new frame, though it always feels wrong. He’s always tired, his spark working tirelessly to power his frame, even despite the added generators given to him. I can just imagine Optimus sitting around the border of where Megatron’s spark lies, talking aloud, knowing Megatron can hear him. Though Megatron never replies. Optimus isn’t sure if perhaps that’s for the best, for the both of them.

Omg titan OP would be amazing as well!!! His Autobots all living on him, and he cares so deeply for each and every single one…

And OUGH cityspeaker Rodimus….!!!!!! Patting on some random console within Megatron’s internals, finding the nearest camera and giving him a kind, determined, reassuring smile. Rodimus promising Megatron one day, he’d be bound to Cybertron’s surface no longer. This planet was too small for him anyway. Wandering a sea of stars and kicking up cosmic dust in your wake sounds nice, doesn’t it, big guy?

[mariacallous]

BERLIN — For the first time since the Nazi era, a far-right party in Germany has won the largest piece of the electoral pie in a state election.

Mainstream politicians and Jewish leaders are expressing alarm following Sunday’s elections, in which the anti-immigrant, Eurosceptic and pro-Russia Alternative for Germany party came out on top in the state of Thuringia, with 32.8% of the vote.

The 11-year-old party also earned second place to the traditional conservative Christian Democratic Union party in the neighboring state of Saxony. Both states are in the former East Germany.

“No one can brush this off as a ‘protest’ vote anymore,” Charlotte Knobloch, head of the Jewish community of Munich and Upper Bavaria, said in a statement late Sunday.

“Exactly 85 years after the start of World War II, Germany is in danger of becoming a different country again: more unstable, colder and poorer, less secure, less worth living in,” said Knobloch, a former head of the Central Council of Jews in Germany who herself survived the Holocaust in hiding.

The election came just over a week since a Syrian refugee was arrested after a deadly stabbing spree at a festival in the city of Solingen, and only days after Germany resumed its program of deporting refugees convicted of crimes. The knife attack, in which three people were killed, reignited popular anxiety about social unrest connected with the more than 1 million refugees admitted to Germany since 2015.

AfD stresses isolationism, takes an anti-EU and pro-Russian stance, and is accused of fomenting anti-Muslim sentiment. Some of its most extreme representatives have also belittled the Holocaust, saying that Germany has paid enough penance for the sins of an older generation.

Mass protests against the party took place earlier this year following revelations that the party had held a secret meeting at a lakeside villa to discuss plans to deport foreigners, including those who had become German citizens. Prominent neo-Nazis attended the meeting, according to the news organization that broke the story, inducing painful echoes of the gathering of Nazi leaders at nearby Wannsee in 1942 to devise a plan to deport and then murder Jews.

But while support for the AfD dipped in polls at the time, it soon rebounded and then accelerated. Now, it has achieved breakthrough results in state elections and raised concerns for next year’s national elections.

The party — whose Thuringen leader, Bjoern Hoecke, has been convicted twice of using a Nazi slogan to boost his party — is unlikely to form a ruling coalition in either state, since it is shunned by other parties. Still, it will have additional seats in the state legislatures and will have the numbers, particularly in Thuringia, to interfere with some governing decisions.

A far-left party, Sahra Wagenknecht Alliance or BSW, also produced notable results, coming in third in Thuringia with 15.8% of the vote. Last month, the current head of the Central Council of Jews in Germany, Josef Schuster, warned that the party, which has accused Israel of genocide in its war in Gaza, was “fueling hatred of Israel in Germany.”

The new election results bode ill for Germany’s future, Schuster said on Sunday.

“Can we recover from this hit?” Schuster wrote in a column in the Bild newspaper. “Our free society must not fall, especially in the face of Islamist terror. Unvarnished truths — honesty and sincerity — are needed, not populist pseudo-answers from radical parties.”

In Thuringia, the mainstream Social Democratic Party barely squeaked in, with 6.1%. Several parties, including the Greens and Free Democratic Party, received so few votes that they will not have any seats at all.

BSW also came in third in Saxony, with 11.8% of the vote, following the AfD with 30.6% and the CDU with a narrow win at 31.9%.

Younger voters overwhelmingly favored the AfD in this week’s elections, according to an NTV-Infratest exit poll.

“The survivors are asking themselves: ‘Didn’t we do enough to teach, to tell, to show?” Christoph Heubner of the International Auschwitz Committee, told the Guardian.

Some Jewish leaders say German politicians would do well to address the concerns apparently expressed by voters this weekend.

“The election results in the German federal states of Thuringia and Saxony are a clear wake-up call to the centrist parties in Germany to listen to the real concerns and fears of the people,” Rabbi Pinchas Goldschmidt, president of the Conference of European Rabbis, said in a statement. “When half the population votes for parties on the extreme fringes, their problems must be addressed openly and honestly.”

Sunday was an “insanely sad” election day, German Jewish journalist Samira Lazarovic wrote on Facebook. She said her 96-year-old father compared the outcome to the opening salvo of World War II, exactly 85 years ago.

Lazarovic said it was is urgent to reach out to younger voters. “It’s not that we know better than they; but we should shape the future together.”

Obviously, it wasn’t enough to take to the streets and protest against the far right, she added: “Populists all over the world have one thing in common. They mean exactly what they say and do everything they can to turn their words to deeds.”

[undeadcourier]

thinking about how the theme of letting go (and the related motif of critically examining long-held beliefs/relationships) appears with the companions.

there's arcade and veronica, who were raised in insular environments and surrounded by enemies their entire lives, who fundamentally disagree with the politics of those groups, and who have to find a way to reconcile the love and loyalty they have for the only families they've ever known with their personal ideologies and goals.

while cassidy and crimson caravans aren't major factions in the vein of the ncr/enclave/brotherhood, cass' quest also revolves around whether she upholds the legacy of her family or follows her own path.

boone is disillusioned with the ncr after the bitter springs massacre but still wears his first recon beret, perhaps as a sign of lingering loyalty, or perhaps as penance. he participated in a horrible war crime because he was following orders, because that mindset was drilled into him since he joined the military. he's not as ideologically opposed to the ncr as arcade and veronica are to the enclave and brotherhood, respectively, but the similarity is worth noting.

what makes these companion quests so memorable is that we're meeting these characters at critical crossroads in their lives, where they have to come to terms with complicated attachments, where they'll define themselves by whether they choose to hang on to a legacy or strike out on their own.

[aniimamundi]

Pride & Prejudice - a Drarry tale

(I've been wanting to write a Pride and Prejudice inspired Drarry story for a while, but can't be arsed to write a full-length fic, so I've decided to write it as daily drabbles/ficlets and post it here on Tumblr.

Warning: This is going to be very silly and campy. Also, I know it makes more sense to have Draco as Mr. Darcy but my heart really really wanted him as Lizzy, and so there's tremendous amount of twisting to fit that narrative 😅)

Chapt 1: Cissy & Portia

Narcissa Black was a changed woman. The tides of war had swept over her life and when they retreated, they took her husband, his significant fortune, and her desire to perch atop the social pyramid. In retrospect, those things had brought her nothing but anxiety and it was just as well that they were gone. 

These days, Narcissa lived for simple joys and her children. The actual one and all the other strays that she had taken under her wing. Oh. And for Portia as well she supposed, blushing a bit at the thought.

As if on cue, the beautiful Portia Zabini bustled into the library where Narcissa sat behind the desk with a book.

“Narcissa! Darling! You would not believe what has happened,” exclaimed the excitable woman.

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t tell me and save yourself the wasted effort.”

“Oh! Cissy!,” Portia cried, flicking her handkerchief at her, “you wicked woman! If you weren’t so pretty, I would be so mad at you.”

Narcissa couldn’t help but smile. “All right. Tell me.”

“Netherfield Park is let, at last! And you would not believe who has taken it! Ronald Weasley!"

Narcissa frowned at that information. Ronald Weasley was a child. Well, not a child technically, but a child to the likes of them. Why was Portia excited at the notion of … Her blood ran cold at the thought. Portia with her propensity to marry powerful men …

Portia flopped down on her lap and put her arms around her neck. “Silly goose, I’m talking about our children.” 

Narcissa couldn’t help but let out a bark of laughter. “Our children!”

“The Weasleys are rich now. With monetary rewards from the war and their very successful family business. The gossip through the grapevine is that Ronald Weasley has not been promised to anyone. Imagine! Pureblood. Rich. Single. What a fine thing for our boys!”

“Darling, the Weasleys hate our children! Need I remind you that Draco took the dark mark? He almost killed Ronald Weasley.”

Portia waved her concerns away. “That was ages ago –”

“Three years.”

“Bygones are bygones.”

“Are they?”

“The children are serving their sentences. The Wizengamot thinks community service is enough penance to wipe off their crimes, why should anyone else think differently?”

“Oh, Portia.”

“And even if he doesn’t want Draco or Greg or Vince, perhaps he will fancy Blaise or Theo. There might be a wedding sooner than you expect. As soon as they move in darling, we must visit them. The Parkinsons have already made plans to do so.”

Narcissa couldn’t help but laugh at her partner’s detachment from reality. “Count me out. You can visit alone if you like and convey our approval for Ronald Weasley marrying whichever of our delinquent children he likes. He can even have them all.”

Portia got up from her lap in a huff. “Must you vex me so? Oh to have suffered seven husbands only to find a beautiful woman and discover that she is no better! I will get all the children married. You just wait and see!”

Narcissa watched her lover flounce out of the room with an attitude. Her arse looked delectable in the tight skirt she was wearing. Portia Zabini was a force of nature. Perhaps the children really would all be married by the end of the year. She shuddered at the thought, before remembering her resolution to take life easy and not worry about such bothersome matters.

(read next part here)

[thegreatzombieartisan]

Nope Fuckity Bye: Two Theories on Why Sauron Skipped Seeking Pardon

“Sauron … did obeisance to Eönwë, the herald of Manwë, and abjured all his evil deeds…”

*

Before diving in, some givens and inferences:

Tolkien’s work is fundamentally Catholic work. To understand his POV, use this lens.

Maiar share a similar psychological landscape to Elves and Men. Men and Elves can procreate. Elves and embodied Maiar can too. Do the math.

Ecclesiastical language is telling. So, let’s clear up the oft misuse of “repentant.” Repentant = contrite (sincere sorrow for offense) vs. Penitent = contrite + actively seeking reconciliation.

*

Recognize the Sacrament of Penance reflected throughout legendarium

Per his faith, Tolkien believed redemption was ever an option. Thus, a penitent sinner like Sauron would need to satisfy conditions (sacraments) to absolve offense (sin) and reconcile with Eru Illuvatar (God).

All sin can be absolved, no matter how great.

Contrition or sincere sorrow for one’s offenses

Reconciliation aka “confession” aloud to a “priest” for accountability and absolution of sin

Repentance is assigned reparations for amends.

Theory One. Sauron couldn’t bear facing the Valar, but ecclesiastical language in text strongly suggests pardon meant facing his victims too

*

Sauron put on his fair hue again and did obeisance Eönwë, the herald of Manwë, and abjured all his evil deeds….

Abjure: to solemnly deny, disavow, or renunciate.

Tolkien might’ve chosen: “disavow”, “renounce”, or “repudiate.” But he chose abjure. As ecclesiastical language, it can be interpreted as holding significance.

For in ye olde Roman Catholicism, “abjuring” occurred in an abjuration - or a formal, timely, voluntary, and public ceremony to renunciate heresy

Rather than a civil criminal trial, it’s suggested, that as a heretic, Sauron would have faced judgment in something closer to this.

(How does an abjuration work? A more robust, public version of the private typical reconciliation process. Moreover, in place of a priest, a higher authority like a bishop is required to oversee it.)

*

For Sauron hath done much naughty

You shall have no other gods before me. (Ex. 20:2–3).

Heresy is sin deemed especially egregious. And Sauron committed the greatest sin of all: idolatry. For to follow Morgoth was to place a “god” before Eru Illuvatar (God).

Moreover, as a principal perpetrator or accessory, much of Sauron’s alleged* sins are largely war crimes:

murder, torture, slavery, terrorism, breeding corruption/mutilation, spiritual corruption, conspiracy, theft, attempted sex trafficking, propaganda, etc.

Let’s not forget Sauron’s sick lyrical game.

* Sauron is only known through narrative bias of incomplete history. His actual sins could be more or less.

Applying the Sacrament of Penance to Sauron seeking pardon from Eönwë

*

Sauron = penitent heretic

Eönwë (representative to Manwë) = priest

Manwë (Valar chief + representative to Eru) = bishop

Eru Iluvatar = God

Sauron (penitent sinner) sought out Eönwë (priest) and confessed his evil deeds (sins) to reconcile with Eru (God). But Eönwë realized Sauron’s sun was in fact heresy, thus requiring the higher authority of Manwë (bishop) to reconcile.

Thus, Eönwë commanded Sauron (now penitent heretic) to seek pardon (reconciliation) with Manwë, who would instigate an abjuration (public renunciation of heresy) and determine a sentence (repentance).

Sauron says NOPE, moving from a penitent heretic to a repentant heretic.

*

Then Sauron was ashamed, and he was unwilling to return in humiliation and to receive from the Valar a sentence

And an abjuration would be even more excruciating.

Besides the Valar, also present would be Elves who Sauron/Morgoth had victimized. Plus, other Maiar who once befriended him, sought his wisdom, and praised his talents. All who knew Mairon “the admirable.” Now the abhorred, defeated, disgraced.

Before all, Sauron would renunciate his evil deeds that led to ruin and suffering. Perhaps to be met with jeers, curses, and woeful sobs. But also, silent dismay. Fear. Disappointment.

Ultimately, Sauron chose his pride, peaced out, and the rest is history.

*

He lingers in Middle-earth. Very slowly, beginning with fair motives: the reorganising and rehabilitation of the ruin of Middle-earth

Where exactly? Who benefited? What were the outcomes? Like what, did Sauron open a cat rescue or build playgrounds for disenfranchised youth? It remains unclear. Just another one of Tolkien’s vague passages that deny Readers’ ability to judge for themselves.

Therefore when Eonwe departed he hid himself in Middle-earth; and he fell back into evil, for the bonds that Morgoth had laid upon him were very strong."

That is, Sauron was trauma-bonded to Morgoth. He also had to be low-key terrified of him. Because at some point, it would’ve became clear that Morgoth’s means didn’t further Sauron’s goals. For what other reason would someone who strives for efficiency continue serving a counterproductive cause?

But Sauron was always vulnerable to corruption. It’s even theorized that Even as Mairon, he had paternalistic entitlement to desired outcomes on Middle-Earth. For lack of boldness or pragmatism, it made him susceptible / a target for Melkor’s Vala power, Eru-may-care audacity, and corruption.

Fast-forward. In forsaking pardon yet engaging in “fair” works, Sauron continues his heresy, his idolatry. But instead of Melkor, he now places himself above Eru.

By skipping abjuration, Sauron robbed himself of humility and thus, true reflection on his evil deeds. Not insignificantly, he robs justice for victims.

By skipping reconciliation, Sauron forgoes support and belonging. One can’t heal in an echo chamber. The “bonds of Morgoth” were heavy and he’d need help breaking free of them.

By skipping repentance, Sauron’s self-assigned “fair works” were likely inappropriate. Nope - perpetrators don’t get to fuck up then decide how to make amends. Victims do.

Theory Two. Sauron feared being unfairly judged for the evil deeds of Morgoth’s other servants

*

“Then Sauron was ashamed, and he was unwilling to return in humiliation and to receive from the Valar a sentence, it might be, of long servitude in proof of his good faith; for under Morgoth his power had been great.

Oh, cry Finrod Felagund a river.

But Tolkien overlooked a glaring motive for Sauron fear of a long sentence. Of all of Morgoth’s Maiar servants, Sauron is the only one known to have attempted to seek pardon.

For gravitas, imagine being the only high-ranking member of a fallen fascist regime on public trial. What would you fear? Receiving a sentence disproportionate to your crimes because you’d be the sole focal point of blame and penance. Sauron would be no different.

Sauron’s fear was legit but how likely was it?

Morgoth was hunted down and chained before being thrown unceremoniously into the Void. A fate that certainly would’ve terrified Sauron.

Yet in stark contrast, even after his confession of evil, Eönwë merely commanded Sauron to seek pardon from Manwë. That he wasn’t apprehend or escorted can be interpreted that Eönwë believed his penitence to be true and thus, he’d do as told. Or perhaps Eönwë simply relayed his master’s orders to let Sauron choose to reconcile.

In any event, Eönwë’s response to Sauron reflects Manwë’s benevolence. For the Vala would understand that a servant of evil must first be it’s victim. More likely than not, Sauron would’ve received mercy.

But he instead chose to thro w redemption away with both hands.

Thank you for reading!

Your likesand tagged reblogs are appreciated. Got feedback?

What did you like? Got theories or insights to share?

Disagree? I love good faith debate and sparring!

Spot an inaccuracy? Hey, Tolkien's work is complex. Drop it in comments or DM.

[saccharinecoffee]

In merit and rule, Ch. 1 | LouWill

Pairing ◈ Louis Guiabern & Will

Chapter word count ◈ 2,102

Info & Warnings ◈ Post-canon, slow burn, mutual pining, future smut, Louis social link, spoilers for the whole game!!

Read on Ao3

"As penance for his crimes, His Majesty the King William I has sentenced Count Louis Guiabern to a life of duty in service of the crown." The rightful heir takes the throne, Louis bends the knee, and a strange bond of trust is forged.

“As penance for his crimes, His Majesty the King William I has sentenced Count Louis Guiabern to a life of duty in service of the crown.”

The throne room was dead silent as Batlin read his first decree to the Lords and Ladies of the United Kingdom of Euchronia. Will was seated at the very back, on the elevated marble podium where the people’s throne lay. At the very foot of it were his comrades in arms, the recently appointed Six Partisans and his captive in war. Between Leon Strohl and Eiselin Hulkenberg was the man every single person in the room was staring at with looks of utter contempt and disdain, a tall head of pale blond curls and soiled cream leather.

Bound in iron around his wrists and stripped of his igniters he was only a man, and one nobody could bring themselves to fear any longer.

“King William I does not pardon his crimes against Euchronia,” continued the crier, “but offers leniency on the count of the admittance of his guilt and his unprompted submission to His Grace.”

That was enough to prompt a buzzing of chatter amongst the crowd. In hushed voices and frustrated huffing they displayed their scorn, not just for Louis, but also his prosecution.

Batlin rolled up his scroll and glanced sheepishly at Will. He could only sigh. He’d always expected that dealing with the Lords would be the most difficult part of ruling, but he hadn’t expected pushback on his very first audience, much less with how overwhelmingly popular Louis had been.

The people were fickle, he supposed. Especially those who wanted to poke and prod their way up the social ladder.

He stood up and raised his hand, quieting the whispers across the hall in an instant. The long, regal cape he wore over his shoulders weighed down his every movement, and his crown just the same. Symbols of the responsibility he bore of carrying both his fate and the people’s trust. There was, however, a safety in that feeling, one he saw reflected in the eyes of his closest friends, his confidants, and now, his protectors. It only spurred him further and lit the dark path before his feet.

“Count Louis has done this country a great harm and disservice, be it in regicide, conspiracy, or magic-born atrocities – of this I will never deny,” he spoke loud and firmly. He took a step down, and then another, inching closer to his comrades and his captive with every word he uttered. “However! I will not put another man to the sword without due process and reason. The former was resolved the moment Louis Guiabern bent the knee before the Six and I. The latter is made clear if you take the smallest glance at the life he has led.”

He stood before them all on equal footing. Etiquette demanded the King to always stand above all, or so he learnt in his youth. Instead, he followed the rule he chose for himself. With his back to his chained nemesis and his front to the country’s most powerful figureheads. His journey to that point had taught him many a skill, and audacity was but one of them.

“My Lords and Ladies this man has more use to us alive than he does dead. No matter how you spin the truth, that much is clear.”

Years of stellar service in the military, unprecedented skill in battle, wisdom in war and intelligence in analysis. Resilience in facing horrors, shrewdness in overcoming obstacles, and building an empire of his own. Banding tribes of all creeds together and making them work with each other seamlessly was but the tip of the iceberg. Look a little under that and one could find a wealth of rich expertise. Louis was everything he needed in a new administration. If he weren’t so corrupted by grief he might have made an admirable ally from the get-go.

When he turned around to face away the disgruntled crowd, Hulkenberg eyed him somberly in concern. It mattered not. He knew he was doing the right thing.

“Do any of you know what it is like to hold no prejudice in your heart? To treat others equally and measure them on their work and character alone?”

Louis’s eyes pierced his own most sharply, something indescribable in the ice-cold blue of his irises. 

“This man’s crimes will not be ignored, and will not go unpunished. But he will be utilised to help further our nation’s project of unification and equity. Despite our countless differences, and despite his treason, we have a shared ideal.” He faced the crowd one last time, and in earnest, he concluded. “I ask only that you trust my judgement.”

Louis was tall and dignified, even when bound and rid of his prosthetic horns. He towered over Will as he eyed their Clemar, Roussainte and Rhoag guests with as much disdain as his stoicism permitted. It was satisfying, Will realised. So used to the vitriol of others he was, he’d quickly learnt to always keep his head down and save face. Louis cared little of it, especially now that the cat was out of the bag. Self-preservation meant nothing when stripped of titles and protected under the crown.

When he looked down at Will, he could have sworn he was smirking just a fraction. The notion aggravated him. It was hard not to when Louis was the reason he lost so much and almost lost a whole lot more.

“Louis Guiabern. Do you swear now and forever, in front of all the great houses of the Kingdom of Euchronia, your undying fealty to me as your King and to my sovereignty across the land?”

Louis’s eyes sharpened like blades, his gaze never leaving Will’s as he got down on one knee and reached his bound hands for Will’s own. The gesture was unexpected, more akin to how a knight might ask a maiden for her favour than a soldier begging forgiveness. Weeks of strange emotions welled up in him, weeks of taking apart and building Louis’s ideology back together, of analysing every look he gave Will over the course of their acquaintance in futile attempts and better understanding him, of begrudgingly easily empathising with his feelings as a fellow Elda, orphaned and cursed and left with nothing to grasp but a name. Spellbound, he watched the blond's elegant movements, his gaze met with his own. Like he could read Will wide open, in most infuriating defiance, he brought his left hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. He felt his cheeks burn, heart caught in his throat as his lips curled into a scowl. The Lords were all used to rings being kissed by their vassals, the Ladies accustomed to roses and handkerchiefs. Louis was of the Eldan Sanctum, of the skies and the battlefield; what he did was a provocation, surely, not fealty.

Will looked up and met the mortified looks on his friends' faces, Hulkenberg and Heismay ready with hands on the hilts of their swords. But Will, heart pounding in his ears and so drawn into Louis’s strange web, only watched in vexed fascination.

The curly blond tresses of his hair were more matted than before in the aftermath of his imprisonment, but they curled into his cheeks and framed his face most handsomely nonetheless. His surcoat was dirtied in brown, either by blood died cold or dirt left unshrugged from the aftermath of their battle and fall from the skies.

It was arrogance. Everything about Louis dripped that brand of confidence built like gilded armour around a heart they both knew and saw was tortured with anxious trauma. To feign submission most transparently, after everything he did to him and his country, was begging for punishment. Will was forgiving and understanding, with a heart large enough to gather all with both flaw and virtue, but Louis was walking on a knife’s edge. Purposefully so.

He did not hide the frustration in his face. And Louis seemed utterly amused, gazing up through his lashes and pretty hair. If he could, Will would show him his royal archetype once more.

“I’ve already done so, Your Grace. But I swear it anew before the pigs who gorge themselves on that which they did not earn.”

It took Will’s best efforts not to laugh amidst his anger. It was a great offence, one that had gasps and loud sneers of indignation echoing throughout the hall, begging for their Majesty to cull the man’s head right off his shoulders for insubordination.

Will barely heard any of them, as he and the man below him shared something between their locked gazes that kept his feet rooted to the ground. His undivided attention rested not in the court or in the words he ought to say, but the conspiratorial smile the Count offered most willingly. Perhaps he did wrong in doubting him.

The look in his mirthful eyes wasn’t one of insubordination; it was one of a desire for challenge. His tongue peeked from between his lips and licked over the raw, pink skin, barely parched despite the less-than-optimal conditions of his prison cell. Will mirrored the gesture unconsciously, his heart fluttering with excitement in his chest, his palms growing sweaty.

Naive. They would call him naive. But how could they not, when they didn’t know what it was that swimmed between them when he grabbed Louis from the fall and brought him back to his senses amidst the humid earth at dawn. They didn’t understand the grief in Louis’s eyes as he saw the King’s archetype fall from around Will as he closed his hands in tight fists in his lap, his ego crushed and his ideals of equality smothered by his King. They could never even guess the strange grin he gave him as he admitted with uncharacteristic humility Will was his better, worthy of the title, and leagues stronger than he ever could be. 

For a man like Louis, that was loyalty in the truest form. Loyalty born out of pure, unadulterated merit. He was a man who followed not the rule of law but the rule of labour.

Vexation and feverish heat ever present, Will nodded, his voice so low only Louis and those closest to them could hear.

“Doublecross me at your own risk.”

Louis cocked his head to the side, not unlike a playful cat. His pale thumb unconsciously traced over his knuckle.

“Do you mistrust me so, that you’d doubt me after all you’ve seen?”

“I don’t know what to think about you.” The words were almost spat out, the months of exhaustion that had insidiously built up beginning to creep up on him the more he tried to make sense of the blond. 

“I think you do,” he said with utmost ease, his voice silky soft and caressing him in all the right ways. Louis was complicated, a right headache of a man, but at the root of it they were two sides of the same coin. Bound by tribe, by ideals, by fate. He could assume the worst all he desired, the truth was bare and spoken plainly before him.

He squeezed Louis's hand lightly, the walls around his heart hardening. As he slipped it away from his calloused palm, little jolts of electricity danced on the surface of sun-kissed skin.

New Bond: Rank one.

“You’ll earn my trust if you’re as honest as you claim to be.”

For a fraction of a second Louis seemed relieved, bowing his head as his shoulders relaxed before looking back up with the same infuriating smile.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

Will took a deep breath, the weight of his Kingdom on his back as he took his sword out. He brought the tip to Louis’s left shoulder, then raised it and rested it on the right.

“I pronounce thee, Louis Guiabern, my loyal vassal and retainer henceforth,” he spoke louder, projecting his voice deserving of his title. He then sheathed his sword and took a step back. “Now rise.”

Louis did just that, towering over Will once more. He realised how relaxed he had been as he watched him quickly became rigid before the hateful eyes of the court. He was nothing if not a caged animal patiently peering through iron bars and salivating at his own bloody thoughts. It threatened to send a shiver down his spine.

“This audience is adjourned," he said finally, wiping the sweat of his hands on the pristine fabric of his trousers. "I bid you all good tidings and safe travels.”

◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider sharing and checking out my other works! 💗💗💗

[weyrwolfen]

Happy Cody Day! Have Some Fic Recs

I wasn't able to finish writing anything for the 2-2-24 cause, so it seems like the least I could do was throw some recommendations for a few of my favorite Cody-centric fics into the ring to help celebrate. Enjoy!

Gen:

And Your People Shall Never Be Destroyed (complete) by independent_variables

Summary: A-017 turned and regarded him silently for a long moment. “You ask a lot of questions, Kote.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Is it really as simple as being one or the other?”

Kote bit his tongue.

‘17’s expression tightened, and he stepped forward to grip Kote’s shoulder.

“One day you’re going to ask a question you don’t like the answer to,” he said, eyes bright and burning. “And that’s when you’ll have to decide: is this a good thing, or a bad thing?”

My Comments: Features a whole slew of precocious CC cadets dealing with the horror show that is Kamino, but Cody is the POV character for the first, longest fic in this multi-story series. Heartbreaking with a happy, hopeful ending.

First Choice (complete) by smilebackwards

Summary: The clones get to choose their Jedi generals.

My Comments: This series has three fics in it, and while the first one is Obi-Wan-centric, the next two are from Cody's POV. The first two are a bit more serious in tone, while the last one is basically Cody's brothers relentlessly trolling him.

Shippy Fics (nothing explicit, because those fics are between me, God, and probably some overworked Ao3 website volunteers):

Our Own Choices (WIP Cody/Obi Wan) by heartofroses112

Summary: CC-2224 made the choice. Cody had to live with it. The Commander... well, he was prepared to burn the galaxy down as penance.

Or, Cody decides to leave the Empire, but that doesn't stop his past decisions from haunting him. In the midst of trying to repent for the crimes he 'willingly' committed, Cody may very well start a rebellion against the Empire while he's at it.

My Comments: Can it really be called shippy if we're 88 chapters in and the tagged pairing hasn't actually laid eyes on one another? Anyway, Codywan is pretty clearly endgame, if that either is or distinctly is not your thing. I'm mostly here for my catnip, which is the post-Clone Wars clone rebellion angle.

Our Caches and Constellations (complete Cody/Obi-Wan) by johanneb

Summary: Eleven years ago, the Jedi order got wind of the closing pincers of a Sith trap and scattered to the remote corners of the galaxy. Ten years ago, millions of clone commanders and troopers were introduced as the Republic’s new Army, made for fighting a war alongside people the galaxy seemed to be forgetting ever existed. Nine months ago, Commander Cody decided he was no longer going to risk his men's lives for the whims of clueless generals. Now, his decision to save a boy and a man in the desert, and the plan he comes up with to get away with it, will change the galaxy.

My Comments: Cody quiet quits the Empire as a prelude to loudly quitting the Empire, which is a lot easier in an AU where all space flight and communications technology is steampunk-y and fairly slow. Very creative world building.

100% open to receiving some recs too. I know both shippy recs were Codywan, but I'm not actually all that attached to that ship over any other. Happy @codyday2224 everyone!

[codenamesazanka]

do you think shigaraki would be fine with going to prison? what about spinner? dabi?

Feel like that depends on whether the Heroes have broken Shigaraki's will enough/convince him he's remorseful enough to obediently serve a sentence/have him agree he deserves to be locked up as penance. That even solves the restraints issue - Shigaraki willingly agrees to not use his quirk to break out of prison, because he considers staying in jail to be rehabilitation/just punishment.

Like, saving him means stopping him, having him let go of destruction, and restoring his hope in the world, right? And that last part probably means he will want to reintegrate into society and abide by its rules. Trust in Heroes and listen to them/the governance they uphold. And that will most likely mean serving a prison sentence, so that he'll have paid for his crimes enough that he can rejoin society as a normal and proper citizen after getting out, whenever that will be.

So how Shigaraki will be saved - how convincing Deku will be in saving his heart - will influence how fine he is with going to prison, I think.

However, in general, I don't think Shigaraki is fine going to prison. Would anyone? Definitely not the way he is now.

If he suddenly gets stopped now, he'll be more like Toga - he's feeling better, but he'd still rather have the new, freer world that rises from the ashes of the old one. He's not going to sit and wait on death row*. He's going to skidaddle.

As for Dabi and Spinner... I don't think they would be fine going to prison either? And if they go because they're incapacitated and captured, that's not really a choice of being 'fine' with it.

Spinner hasn't been saved. Dabi is back with his family, which is the first step of a long journey to true salvation. Neither of them - nor Toga (nor Compress) - are remorseful about what they've done and wants to go to jail as penance. Toga explicitly rejects this.

They'd just be getting captured and going to prison.

Whether they try to break out is the question. If they failed to break out, then whether they eventually make peace with it and serve out their sentence because they lost the war, the world moved on, and they're here in the future their opponent created, so they might as well deal, is the question.

(* i know there's the idea that he won't get the death penalty or a life sentence, maybe he'll serve only a few years then he'll get bailed out by Deku or All Might due to their influence or an generous undue influence plea, or have to work as a pro-hero in exchange - but that's literally favoritism/making an exception for him/not following the new system they profess to have faith in??? "Hey, this guy has done more damage than any other villain, BUT the No. 1 Hero thinks he's a swell guy, All Might calls him nephew and hired the best lawyer that exists to argue that he was totally manipulated into everything, and he'll be doing community service in the highly-coveted and well-regarded career of pro-heroics, so let's give him a short sentence. Every other villain can just stay in prison until whenever because no one cares enough about them to intervene so greatly. We have a fair and impartial justice system."

What about Gentle, you might ask? Well, Gentle's crime was that he tried to break into UA to make a youtube video. Then he partly redeemed himself in the eyes of the law by stopping a prison break during a national emergency. Compare that to Shigaraki... not exactly the same level of bad.)

Thanks for the ask!

[ginger-snap-talkin-nonsense]

Iron Man 3 as best Phase 2 movie? Ooh, that's an intriguing take. I remember everybody hating it when it came out for the Mandarin twist (which is moot now thanks to Shang-Chi and that one short film) and Tony telling a terrorist his address on live TV with no plan after that. I can still remember Honest Trailers ripping into it. But admittedly I haven't seen it since 2013, so is it actually a great movie and I just didn't realise?

I can’t believe people have a problem with Iron Man 3. It’s some of the best Marvel has to offer period.

“Tony doxxing himself on live tv with no plan was really dumb” yeah no shit! It’s hard to remember this in a post “everyone acts like cinemasins” world but not every characters actions are logically justifiable. You know who else tells Tony that was the dumbest shit they’ve ever seen? Literally everyone around him!

The crux of the movie is that Tony is being dangerously self destructive because he has severe PTSD from the EVERYTHING he’s been through and also feels as though the entire world rests squarely on his shoulders. Tony believes he owes the world his life as penance for being blind to the horrors Stark Industries contributed to the world while he went off and partied. The whole movie is a character piece about Tony realizing that he is metaphorically and literally letting Iron Man kill him, and that it’s not fair to the people who love him to keep doing that.

It’s also just extremely solid as a movie. The villain is fun and his plan is diabolical, the mandarin twist was fucking cool and literally circumvented the movie having mega racist undertones and instead made a point about using the War on Terror and the racism of the American people for militaristic and political gain (which is something Iron Man loves to do), and there’s some great scenes and characters!

The team of Iron Man suits all showing up to help save the president at the end? Peak cinema. Happy watching Downton Abbey in the hospital because Tony remembers it’s his favorite show while he visits him in his coma and so he asks for it to be turned on? I may cry. Pepper finally getting to have cool scenes that don’t amount to bickering with Tony because we remembered she’s a person? About damn time!

Dude I am still so fuckin bummed that Harley never showed up past being at Tony’s funeral-he’s such a reflection of Tony and also a plucky young science boy who throws snowballs at walking bombs to save people like holy shit that’s Spider-Man before Spider-Man was out get that little shitster a mini series where he and Tom Holland fight crime together.

I love Tony Stark, I think he’s the most nuanced character in The Avengers lineup and Iron Man 3 is the perfect culmination of everything Tony is, was, and will be. Having a problem with it because “Tony makes bad choices” is to have a problem with most of the movies starring Tony, which is hilarious considering Tony is the most popular character in The Avengers lineup pre Civil War and it’s not even close.

[roohuh]

Summer Letters

Part 5 of year Five in Obliviate

Ominis X MC

Summary: Some of the letters you received from Ominis over your summer holiday

Warnings: just floof

Dear MC,

How are you? Are you rested from your journey home? Sebastian has been on his best behavior this week in efforts to repair his relationship with Anne. We will see how long that lasts. She is being gracious but they have a long road ahead of them before this wound is healed. What was the name of that book you were recommending? Have you started on your summer assignments? Summer in Feldcroft is always such an enjoyable time but for some reason it seems rather lackluster without your infectious laughter.

-Ominis Gaunt

Dear MC,

How are you? Thank you for sending me that book. It saved me from having to travel to Hogsmead to find it. It is quite an enjoyable read. I am nearly finished now, only having set it down to write to you. Sebastian’s good behavior was short lived and he is back to his ridiculous gallivanting. He has declared war on the Dugbug population determined to collect all the tongues he needs for the entire school year. I feel he has already reached his goal and then some but he persists. Anne wishes you were here with us saying a girl around here would be a nice change of pace. I was sorry to hear your panic attacks are back and will spray my cologne on the parchment before I send the letter as requested. I am glad you find my smell so comforting. I miss you.

-Ominis Gaunt

Dear MC,

How are you? I have finished the book, you were right, the ending did cause me to shed a few tears. Please do not tell Sebastian. I think your theory about his venting frustrations on the Dugbugs are correct. I caught him crying over Solomon's grave after which he disappeared for hours returning with quite the collection of tongues. I have a strange request which you are fully allowed to decline. But would you attach a lock of your hair in your next correspondence? I had not anticipated how much I would miss you over this holiday. What I wouldn’t give to hear your laughter once more. Every time I hear your owl I can not think of anything els until I have read the letter she brings. I am sorry you are having such a rough time of it this summer. I wish I could apparate into your home and hold you when the attacks come but know that you are constantly on my mind.

-Ominis Gaunt

Dearest MC,

How are you? I have something I would like to ask you but I feel it is better in person. I am counting down the days until we are together again at Hogwarts. I was wondering what classes you were going to be taking next year. Thank you for the lock of hair and the chain you attached it to was so thoughtful. I keep it with me always, it feels as if you are not quite so far away. Anne helped me pick and press the flowers I will fold into the letter. I hope they are to your liking. They had a wonderful smell when I picked them and Anne informed me that they are pretty colors. I would like to take you to the field we found them in when we are together again. I think it is a place you would enjoy. Do not forget your summer assignments. I have finished mine now if you have any questions about yours.

-Ominis Gaunt

Dearest MC,

How are you? I feel the sentiment must be growing old by now but I miss you dreadfully. I have a bit of a cold at the moment, I am sure it is from the damp cave Sebastian dragged me into. One day his scheming will be the death of me I swear. As penance he is making me soup grumbling the whole time about how soup in summer is some sort of crime. You said you had a dream about me? I would be interested to know what happened in the dream if you are comfortable with sharing. My head is starting to hurt again so I am going to have a lie down but I wanted to respond as soon as I received your owl. Don’t forget your summer assignments.

-Ominis Gaunt

Dearest MC,

How are you? I am feeling much better thank you for the tea leaves they did help my throat immensely. While on a walk the other day a dragon swooped down and snached a sheep from the field right next to the path I was walking on! The wind generated from the beast's enormous wings almost knocked me over. I wonder if it is the same dragon you and Poppy freed from the poacher camp. One more week until we are back at Hogwarts, please tell me you have finished your summer assignments, Sebastian is only now starting his and is completely overwhelmed by the amount of work. He keeps asking to copy mine but it serves him right for procrastinating. Your dream sounds like it was lovely, I am beside myself with excitement to see you. You will laugh at how long my hair has gotten. It will need a proper cut when I am near Hogsmead once again. I was wondering if after the sorting ceremony I could have a private audience with you in the Undercroft.

-Ominis Gaunt

[callsign-relic]

mmmmm hostile architecture... 💛✨

that just makes me think of megatron as a cityformer/titan except he still has his really fucked up IDW internals. traversing a city which so so much more vast than you thought it was, and all of it alive and hungry.

hhhhhgh. i love living cities and ships. my beloveds.

- init

Ouugghh the way the line about it being alive and hungry made my stomach flip. God yes. Houhghhh I’m not gonna be able to stop thinking about for a while now… WAITTTT BRAINBLAST IDEA HOLD ON HOLD ON

Titan/cityformer Megatron, forced to walk across the barren, destroyed, wartorn surface of a Cybertron still freshly recovering from the war as penance for his crimes. I’m not sure if he’d hold civilians, considering he’d lumber around in bot mode. Ooough he holds them all in his stomach… But he only stares into the far distance as he slowly walks along the planet’s surface, endlessly chasing Cybertron’s moons to a destination he may never find… some say if you stay still and quiet, you can feel the rumble of his dreary footsteps no matter where you were on the planet.

Either that scenario or something less dramatic haha, really up to you lol

Now I wonder who would make a good cityspeaker for him… the obvious answer is the reader insert HAHA, but thinking of a canon character might be interesting as well, hehe

[austinramsaygames]

A False Campaign Intro

Yesterday I recorded an episode with Campaign Spotlight as a guest talking about the intersection and differences between home games and actual play. It was a very rewarding interview and I'm excited to share it when it comes out in a few months. Part of their format is that every episode starts with a monologue from the guest reading the opening text crawl of their game. Well, I don't do that kind of opening to my campaigns so I had to make something from scratch for it. I was reasonably happy with what I wrote going in but as I read it aloud and saw the reactions from the host it became something I wanted to share. So here's the opening narration for The Furies: a Beam Saber Rush Wars campaign.

This is a world similar to but not our own. A world where cars have an even greater importance than in our world. They are both an identity and a conduit for power. Those esteemed few who can tap into a car’s true potential become Heroes and Villains the likes of which haven’t been seen since the Trojan War. The bond between driver and vehicle for many is a holy one. Detroit, the motor city. Once a mover and shaker in our world was a gargantuan presence in this one, but much like ours it's most fondly remembered in the history of decades ago and the residents who cling to its true nature as their homes. Residents like The Furies, a girl gang at the forefront of the illegal street racing scene that thrives on the rusting body of the city. Cinderella "Candy" Stiehl, the gang's de facto leader and muscle, is short, round, commanding, and loyal. A bulldog of a woman whose mob ties had her take the fall for a job gone wrong, and spent years in prison then the government's Jaghund task force in penance. Free once again, both from the shackles of prison and her family, she returns to crime in her monster truck, The Carolina Reaper, as it's the only way she knows how to move through the world. May Day, the group's infiltrator, is in many ways the opposite of Candy: tall, lean, impulsive and chaotic, but just as fiercely loyal as any other member of the gang. After dropping out of her interpretative dance college due to her sister's illness, she was lost at sea until she found her place first in the fans of the racing scene, and then in The Furies. Now she's strapped some nos to her thigh high roller skates, and makes sure that no one can predict what her street family does next. Rebecca Bolger, the newest member of The Furies and its mysterious face. Classically beautiful and verbally cunning, she brings info and gear from unexplained and often elided connections. No hard questions have been asked of her yet, as she's been as willing as the rest to put her body and her car, the sports coupe Bella, on the line for the girls. Now, a multi billion dollar company, Enterax, run by a man whose fans consider him a genius, has started to move in on Detroit. City council and business leaders are pleased as punch at the prospect of a new Giga Factory being built in one of the city's poorest neighbourhoods, but The Furies have their ear to the ground and can read between the lines. Whistleblower suicides, OSHA violations, disappearing local activists, battery fires. While Enterax might have a squeaky clean image those who look a bit closer and don't turn away find a company that doesn't care for its workers, customers, or neighbours, only the shareholders and its founder's ego. Proper channels haven't stopped Enterax, and respectable resistance hasn't done anything either. Lucky for Detroit there's a group of pissed off girls willing to crash this company's plans, parties, and portfolio. And they'll do it one twisted wreck of an electric vehicle at a time.

[reneees]

Her love damned the beginning of night and the love wared in yellow Sun-mooned kurtas darling a doze off the night that is. Her. Nights weaken the night. A love wars a penance lie. A lover becomes God. A night loves shapes of nights. A night hiss in the trite word of lessened lies if the night. A war of umbrage youth war-siding with crime. Night havocs night. Occlude raiments of nice hems that is. Her. Her night. Her loom is dye is the night. Hope is the courage of war. A light of becoming her. A night disseminates through the wings of her par. A gift lay-down in the spite might of the keeper girl. A night loved of the God nights barking. A night in the hope of down life’s to the denude love of God. Parsimonious life in the clout heaven, her high his God. Her March is new, her motivation. Her lie. Becomes water. Her mouth becomes ear. War lies in the dining love of war. Her. Light devices in the card of heaven. Her. Simple shun of God in the occupying mess of love. A lover. A night. A lover. Her. Works of God and the loves of rite. Her. World in the humming war of shy girls seeking war apprentice in the love. Her. Imprimatur faces of her love mood of lipstick and the eyes of heaven. Her. Night wallows suddenly and thinks of arching approval from her shy girlfriends. A love braised till it kept quiet in the bliss of makers and the night of honours. Her, her. Night. Love on nights and the moon of inks. Her. Light and love always. Her.

Sunidhi

[housewarningparty]

Your turn!

It's halfway through the year! Got any favorite albums/books/tv shows/whatever to recommend?

thanks to you @badwolfwho1 who both asked me!

music:

right off the top i'm gonna recommend 3 pop albums bc i almost never have this many TO recommend. but tei shi's valerie, empress of's for your consideration, and shygirl's club shy EP have all been on constant repeat for me this year.

big year for metal also - in particular crypt sermon, job for a cowboy, darkest hour, gatecreeper, aborted and tzompantli were all incredible. i feel like between seeing them live and the release of cure, this is the first time erra has really clicked for me and i'm loving it.

for post-hardcore i've loved the debut LPs by with sails aheads and your ghost in glass. the EP lonely people by love rarely was on repeat for me for weeks also - really great stuff.

i got heaven by mannequin pussy slaps too. and i also really, really want to recommend you could do it tonight by couch slut - if you love the queasy, depraved noise that chat pile make, you absolutely should be listening to couch slut.

i threw a couple little playlists together to roundup some of my faves:

(extended version here)

honorable mention: as was really apparent from my charts this year, i spent A LOT of time listening to the saosin s/t again. but also got really back into grouper this year - especially her 2021 album shade, which i missed entirely when it came out.

books:

okay for music i focused mostly on 2024 releases but for books i won't be so strict.

shirley jackson: a rather haunted life by ruth franklin was REALLY good and provided a lot of great insight into jackson's work and also just had some really interesting history in it. really enjoyed it.

hit so hard by patty schemel a rock music and addiction memoir by the drummer of Hole. very dark and upsetting at points, but compelling. was very illuminating re: the 90s seattle music scene and the drug culture around it, provided a lot of context and detail to some stuff i thought i already knew about. really great stuff.

penance by eliza clark - this is a fake true crime book that REALLY got under my skin. it's a meta commentary on true crime as a fandom and an industry and the exploitation inherent in it. it's a mirror to make you stare at your own internal biases. it's SO fucking 2014 tumblr. i've gotten like three other people to read it and they all went insane like me. highly recommended.

hex by thomas olde heuvelt - very late to the party on this one but i loved it. translated AND localized from dutch, with very interesting results. almost goofy to start and ends up totally bleak. i adored it.

magic for beginners and white cat, black dog by kelly link - REALLY falling in love with kelly link this year. read these two and currently re-reading stranger things happen and i just adore her style. weird but SO heartfelt, surreal and dreamy, as often horrifying as it is sweet. she's so talented, i'm really excited to read the book of love later this year.

between two fires by christopher buehlman - FINALLY read this and i loved it. absolutely deserves the hype. kinda wild that dark ages horror isn't more of a thing? i re-read buehlman's the blacktongue thief too and really loved it, definitely cemented it as one of my favorite fantasy books. i'm reading the daughters' war now and enjoying it a lot.

i also re-read the golden enclaves by naomi novik and had such a great time with it.

tv shows:

finished my buffy re-watch! been watching a ton of xena with @holdsteady and @nataliving this year too - we just finished s3 and it was insane and i loved it soooo much.

i watched under the bridge and thought it was very good, but i'd recommend people learn a little about the real reena virk case before engaging.

hacks season 3 was INSANE it made me crazy i loved it so much.

haven't watched much tv aside from that!

[moonlightswritingandstuff]

i won’t be sleeping; there’s too many monsters in the backyard (and i feel them creeping closer, closer, closer)

Valentina is the last of everyone, because someone lives to tell the tale. She ruminates on that.

trigger warnings: uhhh death, implications of suicide and grievous injury. pretty sure that you can get through this if you got through the series and you're fine with implications of suicide, though.

for best results (and notes), read on ao3!

She's not anything like she used to be. She doesn't laugh or smile as readily anymore, and her flirtations are in the past. And still so, so present. She's still as ruthless with people's hearts as ever.

The memories are almost too much, now. Or too little. She is buried in memories and those memories will never suffice. It is not easy to remember Chiara's smile, or Miranda's laugh.

But never mind that. It has been too long.

Not long enough.

But if Valentina ignores the whispers in her mind, just as she has since Mitchell died, everything will be okay.

He was the last of them to die. Or, the last besides Valentina. She isn't quite alive anymore, anyway. Is this what life is outside war? Is it supposed to be an endless wasting away?

(The gods do not understand. Even Aphrodite, who is emotional to the point of almost being human, does not understand. Even Zeus, who protects humanity like children, does not understand. Valentina used to pray, to her mother, to Zeus. But those prayers have long gone unanswered. Only heroes are deigned with answers, now. And the young ones, who still have the chance to be a hero. Valentina could never be that.)

And Mitchell, oh, her brother Mitchell. He had a smile that made you feel as if home was right there, impossibly close. He had soft hands and hated fighting, but picked up a sword when they needed it in the Titan War.

His favourite flowers were dandelions. Not because they were pretty (even Mitchell couldn't claim that) or because they were significant or anything that most people like, but because they were everywhere, because they were weeds.

He said they were like demigods - everywhere.

("You don't even have to look for them!" Mitchell had exclaimed. "And they'll never be defeated."

"I think tumbleweeds are a better metaphor," Valentina had replied.

"Yeah, but they're uglier."

"The bar is on the floor, and somehow, the tumbleweed has made it under."

"Exactly!")

But Mitchell's love of dandelions and his comforting smile had not saved him. Nothing had saved any of them.

But by some cruel turn of fate, something had saved Valentina.

Is it really saving if you are left alone, alone, alone?

But Valentina had made her choices, with the light of the sun and the softness of grass, and she had her choices made for her, with the love that fizzled out like the fire in pyres turned to ash.

She was the last one left, a penance for a crime Valentina had never found. Perhaps it was from all those years ago in the Titan War.

(Valentina had come to herself in a dirty alley, dirt caking the edges. She had faded in and out of consciousness, before the clang of swords had awoke her from her abysmal state.

In front of her had been Drew. Her sister, her favourite sibling, the one who had always felt more real than Silena. Drew.

She had been fighting someone. No, not someone, Lucia.

Lucia. Oh, Lucia. Daughter of love and beauty, just like the rest of them, led to the other side.

Lucia had never been steady like the rest of them, had never been someone that Valentina had fully been able to trust with secrets.

(Years later, Valentina will wonder why Lucia's betrayal didn't hurt as much as Silena. But as quickly as that question came, the answer arose, too.)

Lucia had been facing Drew, away from Valentina. Somehow, that had happened in the midst of combat.

And Drew had been losing, losing, losing.

And Valentina— And Valentina— And Valentina—

And Valentina had thrown her knife straight into Lucia's stomach.

Lucia had collapsed immediately, dead as soon as the knife struck, light already gone from her eyes.)

Lucia had died. Valentina had killed her. And truth to be told, Valentina doesn't remember much else from that day, only that she somehow made it back to the camp and by the time her cracked ribs healed, most of her other siblings had died, and only Drew was left, and they had lost New York except for Mount Olympus.

Or, every single one of her siblings except Mitchell and Lacy, who hadn't even gone to war in the first place.

But Drew had told Valentina what happened after that. Valentina had apparently collapsed, almost sobbing, chanting I killed her, I killed her, I killed her over and over and over again.

According to her, Drew had kept her head on straight.

(Valentina doubts her, but it's not like she can get Drew to set the record straight now.)

The reminder of Drew still hurts.

Out of all her siblings, Valentina had been the closest to Drew.

If there's one thing that Valentina could compare to Drew, it would be snow. Valentina had always been flame and fire, to Drew, and Drew had always been snow. Sun and moon, as Austin had put it, in one of his more poetic moods.

But Drew had known, Valentina thinks. Drew must've known. There's no other way to explain it.

("Beautiful women suffer unhappy fates," Drew had said. "It's a Chinese proverb, but whatever."

It's nighttime, but the lights are off, and the only light comes from the full moon and the end of Drew's cigarette.

But Drew's cigarette had emitted a foul smell that had permeated into the apartment. Valentina had hated it and hates it still — it itches her head and burns her nose — and she'd spent time that night getting it out of her clothes. She hated that Drew had smoked, too — it was the one thing that Valentina never forgave her sister for.

"Does you father let you smoke here?" Valentina had asked instead. The penthouse was large, but the foul cigarette smell gets everywhere.

"He doesn't realize," Drew had said. "Or doesn't care."

I'm not sure which one is worse, had gone unsaid, but it floats in the air anyways.

(Valentina will later think of how Drew is the most beautiful person she's ever met. Drew, with her sharp beauty that is all angles. Drew, who died. Beautiful women suffer unhappy fates, after all.)

But Valentina had shook her head. "Never mind that."

Drew had grinned that slightly predatory grin everyone said was slightly left of sane. Valentina's favourite sibling had always been Drew.)

The cold air bites at Valentina's skin just as Drew's remarks always had, but despite Valentina being at the top of her apartment building in mid-autumn, she feels warm. She's always run hot, of course, but it's only been recently that the cold does not bother her.

Valentina could laugh at the irony of it all. She is warm, bright, flaming like the pyres that turned her friends to ash. They are dead, and she is alive, and there's nothing more that she wants than to join them.

Memento pugnare, they had said, despite it being in Latin, and not Greek. Remember to fight.

Fight what? had always been the accompanying question. Fight monsters. Fight fate. Fight despair. Fight everything and anything because demigods were made for nothing but to fight.

(Valentina has known that for years. It's much harder to believe it, especially when Aphrodite comes to check in.)

They had said that, because demigods die quietly unless they're heroes - and Olympus and Tartarus both know Valentina is not a hero.

Well, heroes die young or live to be too old. Those that die young had always served to make Valentina angrier than sad.

Like how Valentina had been angry when Jason had died. Not because she cared much for him — she never really knew him other than 'Piper's ex' (and Piper had always been rather estranged from her siblings).

But she had been angry because the heroes had the nerve to act like it was the worse thing that had ever happened to anyone anytime.

They're lucky that they got to keep their friends. They're lucky that they weren't the only ones left.

You should go and talk to them, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Esperia says in the back of her mind. Would do you some good, to speak to people who've also lost.

But curse Valentina's pride, because she just can't. Because she knows every time that they'll bring it inevitably to some friend they had lost, while saying they were glad that they still had each other.

There was no each other for Valentina anymore. Just her. And absolutely no one else.

At least try talking to Annabeth, Drew whispers. Gods know you need it. You... were something to her. Once.

And just like that, Valentina is knocked back into why she doesn't talk to Annabeth again.

("I don't get it," Annabeth had said. "Why don't you get free tuition to U of NR? You're a hero just as well as the rest of us."

"Not everyone can be a hero," Valentina had replied, tiredly. Annabeth had gone over these points over, and over, and over again. This is the first time Valentina had bothered replying.

"We're all heroes."

"Not everyone can be a hero," Valentina had restated. "You need soldiers, too. People tell stories of George Washington, but sing no laments for those under him. You hear about Winston Churchill's genius, but never about the everyday soldier. People will talk about you, but never me."

Annabeth had only frowned, which was a ridiculous word to use for it in hindsight, but there is no better word.

"No one will care about me," Valentina says, somehow impossibly angry and impossibly calm.

Because Annabeth had not understood. She hadn't understood that heroes were not made of ordinary people. She hadn't understood that heroes were made of luck. Of birth. Of talent, of skill, of the extraordinary.

And Valentina had never been anything but ordinary.

"Of course people will care about you," Annabeth had disagreed. "I do."

"Nobody will remember me," Valentina had corrected herself.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not a hero like the rest of you. I'm a soldier. Those mean two very, very different things.")

They had argued, Valentina recalls, and it hadn't been pretty.

It will do you no good to hold onto hate, Esperia whispers. Life is meant for so, so much more.

Esperia would never say that; that was hypocrisy at its finest. Valentina knows that Esperia lived much of her life wishing for it to be over - even before Castor died, for Esperia always viewed herself as the worse twin, in every measure that counted.

(Castor, with his plants and growth. Esperia, with her madness. Castor, with his endless love. Esperia, with her powers setting her mother mad.)

Esperia had sent her lit cigarette below her heel one day, and Valentina was pleased to know that she was the cause. Yet the past hung over her like the shadow of a spire in summer, and Valentina had never quite been able to bring the light in.

("That'll kill you."

"Not as fast as being a demigod will," Esperia had replied, a lit cigarette between her right and middle fingers. "So what's the issue?"

"There are healthier ways to cope."

"I can't get drunk, 'Tina."

"Neither of us can. It's illegal."

"Besides the point."

Valentina had rolled her eyes. "But you're going to kill yourself with that."

Esperia had rolled her eyes right back. "What do I have to live for? Castor's gone."

"Me," Valentina says, in a rush. "Chiara. Malcolm. Miranda. Connor. Paolo. Ellis. You're not alone, Pollux."

Esperia had sighed, and then dropped her cigarette, stomping on it by the heel of her foot. "You're right."

"I'm always right."

"Sure.")

Now that Esperia is in the land where none come back from, Valentina wonders if she enjoys death as much as she seemed to want it.

Valentina has lived precisely none of her life wishing for Esperia's to be over. She'd also spent much of it wishing for her own life to not end.

Perhaps she should've made a different choice that day. Maybe Esperia would then still be here, and Valentina not.

(Dreams have always been funny things. But they are dangerous gardens of poison when you're a demigod.

"Greetings, Valentina Rosita Diaz, daughter of love," Janus had said, his two heads speaking in unison. Roman, but never mind that. "I have decided to give you a choice."

"A choice," Valentina had said warily.

"A choice," Janus had agreed. "You, or Pollux?"

"Excuse me?" Valentina had snapped, her voice going hard.

"One of you must die. I have granted you the luxury of choice."

Valentina had regarded Janus. His two heads had been ever-shifting in a rather annoying manner that had reminded Valentina a little of her mother, whom she has always thought of with no little scorn.

"No."

"No?" Janus had asked, no little amount of surprise in his voice.

"No. I'm choosing a third way. I invoke Hecate, the goddess of crossroads, she who I am devoted to for the power of the Mist, and she has always told me that a crossroads is never complete, as long as it does not have an infinite amount of paths. I shall find my own way. Both of us will survive."

"Very well," Janus had said. "I will allow it, just once. But I warn you, demigods are not made to live."

"I know that as well as I know the hearts of others," Valentina had replied. "And I know the hearts of others very well indeed.")

Valentina has always known that if Janus had forced her to choose, she would've chosen herself. But the extra few years of Esperia's life were well worth it, she decides. Valentina's just never known if it was worth it. Maybe she just put off the choice, maybe Janus never accepted her answer. Maybe Valentina was doomed to repeat the same mistakes in the same manner. Maybe Esperia had died because Valentina did not think to save her first.

Valentina has never been suicidal, but the harrowing heights of the building seem to beckon her forward. She could see everyone again. There was no one left to mourn her - after all, she was the one left to mourn everyone else.

The wind, too, pushes her towards the edge.

But her friends only have her left to remember them.

Valentina steps closer.

She has nothing left to lose.

Valentina steps closer.

“My daughter,” a voice says, gliding and golden. Aphrodite.

“Mother.”

“I am tired of my children dying,” Aphrodite continues.

Valentina turns to look at her. Aphrodite has chosen a steady skin this time; her features remain unshifted in a mirror of Valentina’s, with only her eyes, the pale blue of the sky nearest to the horizon to Valentina’s abyssal black, different.

“Why haven’t you ever done anything?”

Aphrodite smiles her timeless, blank smile, the same that decorates many ancient statues. The archaic smile, scholars call it, as if it no longer exists. “Even now, I am… unauthorized. Zeus has been self-banned from the ability to have children, and so sunders the rest of us from ours.”

“And yet you can visit me.”

“I wish I could visit all. This is a stolen moment, a favour bargained for. You are so close to death, my child, but it can be prevented, if only you take hope and strangle despair.”

“What hope is there for one who is lost?”

“The lost can be led back home.”

“What home exists after it is decimated?”

“A home can be rebuilt. It can change.”

“All I ever wanted was love.”

“I know. Yet we remain in a world where love is not offered to all. I love you, my child.”

“To love a god is to be cast aside.”

“To love a child is to love forever.”

“Forever means naught when faced with the oldest god.”

“Forever means everything when faced with you. You need to let people in, Valentina, or risk yourself being shut out. Please. Just… let someone in. Please don’t jump.”

“Mother-”

“I know you don’t believe me. You have good reason to. But let yourself see the flowers. Let yourself delight in loving again. If not for yourself, if not for me, then for everyone you’ve lost. What is it that you demigods say? Come what may, and live?”

“It’s just tradition.”

“Not when you always mean it. Come what may, you’ll see them again, and then you’ll have all eternity. Live, and thrive, and smile. Go to the theatre. Walk in the park, read the romance books you love. Please.”

“How do you know I like romance books?”

“You’re my daughter,” Aphrodite says. “How could I not?”

And-

-and her emotions are as hot as always, burning her up inside just as the pyres burned Esperia and Drew and Mitchell and Malcolm and Miranda and everyone else up from the outside-

-and Aphrodite, her indomitable mother, loves her-

-and suddenly, somehow, Valentina can see the light at the end of the tunnel-

-and somehow, someway, that makes Valentina want to live-

-and love-

-and, most importantly, take her life back-

-and she is her mother’s daughter, no matter how she tries to deny it-

-and at the end of the day, Valentina doesn’t think she ever wanted to die-

-and she just wanted an escape-

-and Aphrodite embraces her-

-and not all is well, but it could be.

Valentina realizes that her friends would hate to see her this way. That no one would. That she doesn’t want herself that way. And maybe, just maybe, she can live the life her friends want able to.