#poor rost

[cha-mij]

That face you make when you restart Horizon Zero Dawn (again..again) as research for your fic, but it means you have to watch Rost die (again...again)

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

ROST.

He couldn't tell her that even though leaving her hurt her terribly, it affected him in a way she couldn't understand.

He couldn't tell her the reason she wouldn't understand was because she didn't know he once had a family.

He couldn't tell her she gave him life after the loss of his wife, daughter and tribe.

He couldn't tell her that raising Aloy brought him peace.

He couldn't tell Aloy the necklace was his daughter's.

He couldn't even tell Aloy that he viewed her AS his daughter.

He couldn't tell her any of these because he wanted her to be with the tribe. To embrace the tribe and way of life that he respected. He wanted her to find the peace she had brought him.

He couldn't tell her he loved her so he told her to SURVIVE.

😭😭😭😭😭

PLUS SIDE

you get to hear Aloy say

"oh this is the Hunter's cabin? With you guarding I assumed it was the latrine"

And

"oh are you going to shut your mouth? Because THAT would be a surprise"

[girlactionfigure]

Resistance Banker: Walraven van Hall

$250 Million Heist

Walraven van Hall was a Dutch banker whose brains, bravery, and unwavering moral compass saved thousands of Jews and anti-Nazi resistance fighters during the German occupation of the Netherlands.

Walraven was born to a prominent Dutch family in Haarlem, the Netherlands, in 1906. The dream of his youth was to join the merchant marine and see the world, but because of poor eyesight his application was rejected. Instead Walraven moved to New York City, and with the help of his brother Gijs, a banker (and future mayor of Amsterdam), Walraven got a job on Wall Street. After learning the ropes of the banking industry, Walraven returned to the Netherlands and worked as a banker and stockbroker.

In 1940, Germany invaded the Netherlands. Among those affected by this calamitous event were families of merchant sailors who were unable to return home. Walraven and his brother Gijs created a fund to help these families pay their bills. The fund was guaranteed by the Dutch government-in-exile in London. 

It didn’t take long after occupying Holland for the Nazis to start enacting anti-Jewish regulations, taking away Dutch Jews’ most basic liberties and conscripting them into forced labor camps and later, death camps. (Ultimately, 75% of Dutch Jews were murdered by the Nazis.) As the persecution intensified, so did the anti-Nazi resistance movement. Walraven expanded his fund to support a wide range of resistance activities, with a particular emphasis on helping Dutch Jews. He tapped into his network of wealthy Dutch citizens to fundraise and quickly became known as the “banker to the resistance.”

For three years, Walraven funded the Dutch resistance, providing about $500 million (!) to save Jews and other victims of the Nazis. How did Walraven, with his brother’s help, raise such a massive amount of money? Incredibly, they obtained $250 million by robbing De Nederlandsche Bank (Dutch National Bank), the biggest bank heist in European history. The details of how they achieved this are complicated, involving multiple shell companies, fake documents, bureaucrats who were friendly to the cause, and cooperation between a wide network of resistance organizations. Walraven was known as the Olieman (Oilman) because his warmth and charisma lubricated the friction between various resistance groups and fighters. The rest of the money was supplied by donations and loans from generous Dutch people who were outraged by the Nazi atrocities taking place in their country.

The complete story of how Walraven raised so much money may never be known, but one of his tricks was falsifying bank bonds and exchanging them for real bonds, and then paper money. He did this right under the nose of bank president Rost van Tonningen, a prominent Nazi who collaborated with the German occupiers. The money Walraven collected was used to secretly house and support over 8000 Jews in hiding, conduct acts of sabotage against Nazi targets in Holland, and rescue captured Allied pilots.

In January 1945, Walraven was arrested by the Germans, along with seven other resistance fighters, in revenge for the death of a police commander. All eight were quickly executed without trial. Ironically, the Germans had no idea who Walraven was; they assumed he was just another resistance fighter rather than the banker and leader who made so much resistance activity possible.

Posthumously, Walraven received several honors including the Dutch Cross of Resistance and the U.S. Medal of Freedom. He was honored as Righteous Among the Nations by Israeli Holocaust Memorial Yad Vashem in 1978. However, Walraven’s brave deeds were not widely known until recently, possibly because powerful banks didn’t want people to know the secrets of how they were robbed.

In 2018, Dutch director Joram Lursen released “The Resistance Banker,” a feature film about Walraven van Hall that became one of the highest-grossing Dutch films of all time. Joram said in an interview with the Jewish Telegraph Agency (JTA), “When people think of the resistance.. they rarely think of the enormous amounts of money that it cost to keep this organization – the resistance – running.” He likened his film to a Hollywood action film, characterizing it as “easy to follow and full of suspense as a casino heist.” The film is available on Netflix.

For saving thousands of lives by funding the Dutch resistance to Nazi occupation, we honor Walraven van Hall as this week’s Thursday Hero.

[slightlyslytherinthings]

Accio

Description: Sebastian Sallow x Y/N (no smut, just kissing and fluff and also subtext)

Warnings: Spiders? And mild violence towards spiders (poor babies lol)

"Accio", you pulled Sebastian towards you, he landed with his back against your chest, as you tried to save him from a falling rock, which gladly just missed him. "Usually you don't need that spell to get me near to you, Darling. But thank you, for saving my ass.", he said relieved looking at the rock which layed in pieces were he just stand a second ago.

You pushed him a bit with your hands, "you can thank me later.", you smiled relieved too. You two were just on your way to find the triptych in the goblin mine.

"First you didn't let me take down one globin, because you could manage it all by your own and now you've saved me from that damn rock. I'm starting to feel like the damsel in distress.", he bragged. "Well doesn't the damsel get to kiss the hero", you moved forward without looking behind to him. He stumbled on your words, "sounds like a promise to me, I guess."

"But fine next threath we encounter, I leave it all to you, Sebastian", you promised him going far deeper through the mines.

A crowd of spiders appeared, "Of course I get the spiders." he signed, cursing confringo at each spider. "What are you doing?", confused he looked behind him seeing you as you sat down.

"Well you said you can handle it, have your moment, so that I can get my feet some rest, besides the view I got from here is just perfect.", you grinned. He scoffed but at the same time he was to busy spelling confringo, to complain even more.

"It's getting hot in here I think I need to take off my robe". Sebastian almost dripped hearing that distracted him, as he glanced at you, "Are you trying to sabotage me, my darling?", trying to stay focused until every spider was rosted.

"Okay, I think that was the last one", he said with heavy breathing and sweat as he looked down to you, you glared at him. "Oh blast it. I think I missed one. Y/N look above you!" he shouted.

"You really think I fall for that-" before you could end your sentence you felt a skinny hairy leg on your shoulder. You looked up and screamed a bit by that jump scare. Turning around as you tried to get up as fast as possible. You tripped and fell on your bottom. Sitting before Sebastian.

He looked at you and then at the big spider as he casts again confringo. As the spider was defeated, he tried to help you up. "Is everything alright, my dear?", he asked making sure you weren't hurt.

"Yeah", you got up and brushed the dirt from your skirt. Sebastian smirks with the dirtiest grin, "So who's now the damsel in distress?".

You groaned at his comment, "Ugh. Fine. A deal is a deal.", you grabbed him on his tie pulling him close to you like you would just cast accio again at him. Your lips meet his softly, as he could have ever imagine to feel like. It was intense, probably due to the adrenaline which run through the veins of the both of you.

Breaking from his lips, you moved again forward, "let's find the part of the potrait and get out of here, before the spiders get their cousins."

You left an aroused Sebastian behind, who tried to get himself together. He could never expect that you would kiss him in a place like here nor in a moment like that. But actually this moment was just right, filled with so much tension.

He was breathless, disappointed that it didn't last longer. His glare followed your nice legs and movement as you leave.

"Sebastian, I think I found what we had searched for.", as you called him. He was already next to you, a bit closer than usual looking over your shoulder as you enrolled the triptych. Happy with what you found you put it in your pocket. Looking for a way to get of here.

As last time you could find an iced mirror which lead to the undercroft. "I think we can leave here.." you looked at Sebastian, "or we could take a pause, just in case we wouldn't be alone like here as in the undercroft, because Ominis already smelled that his troublemakers went off again and awaits us in the undercroft."

"Troublemaker?", Sebastian laughed. "You want to have moment with me?" again that dirtiest grin.

"Accio", you said this time without a wand just only with a finger advicing him to get close to you. "Is that now our insider, my darling?"

This time he grabbed your tie, he pulled you into a kiss, he desperately wanted to continue. You pushed him against the table. He practically sat on that.

Getting overwhelmed by your dominance, he groaned into your mouth. You both tangled with your tongue going deeper as you went through the mine.

You backed up. Looking at him with an scaning glare and smile he always loved to see. "Was that everything for now?", he waited desperately for more.

"You'll get even more when we find the last one, pinky promise." yet again, you already had moved forward, with a raised hand with your pinky finger spread.

His heart was racing by the thoughts that were just implied.

As you stand before the mirror waiting for Sebastian to join you. "Take my hand, Sebastian.", you commanded.

"Last time we didn't need to be attached to get through it right?", he asked as he grabbed your warm hand.

"I know. I just love you being near to me", you smiled as you went forward. He smiled too, this time with a lovely grin, as he followed your lead.

[horizontwinflames]

"DON'T HURT MY SISTER!!" Aloy screamed furiously. As tears of anger streamed down her cheeks, Aloy punched the boy a few times in the face with all her strength. "Stop! Stop, you devil!" One of the kids shouted. Aloy swiftly turned to look at the one who spoke. She got up to go after the other kids, but for their luck, Rost was able to catch up, and he held her by the arm. Beta had followed Rost. She had a tissue he gave her to put pressure on her wound to help diminish the bleeding. All the kids quickly left the place in panic, and some were even crying, scared of Aloy.

This is an artwork of a scene from chapter 2 of this AU! The way Aloy handled the stone-throwing is rather different than in canon, as you can tell... and poor Beta also got hurt by it.

You can read said fic here: [Ao3 LINK]

I'm messing around with a monotone-ish coloring here... maybe I'll use it in future artworks too.

[meshla-cyarika]

Being Zo and Varl's child headcanons

A/n: SPOILERS FOR HORIZON FORBIDDEN WEST

Zo is the best mother in the world.

She teaches you how to respect Earth and all of its living organisms, she also tells what to fight for (your home, friends, innocent lives etc.)

Zo spends less of her time at "The Base" and in Plainsong after the Zeniths are defeated so she can focus more on you

Oh and you're 100% babysat by Aloy, Beta, Alva, Erend, Kotallo and Sona

Because of Aloy, Beta, Alva, Erend and Kotalla babysitting you since you were a toddler, calling them you're aunts and uncles has become a second nature to you.

Oh my god my poor baby Sona when she first met you :,(

My girl was in tears when she first saw you because of how much you resembled Varl when he was a baby

Zo first introduces you to "The Base" when you're thirteen she also gives you you're own Focus then aswell because she thinks your a responsible young person and deserve to know the knowledge of your ancestors

Aloy definitely teaches you how to hunt (with Zo's permission of course) whether it's the wildlife or machines. Moments when you use your Focus to identify machines weakspots with Aloy's guidance, make her realise how much you reminder her of her younger self and how much she reminds herself of Rost.

Beta does what she does with everyone else - she explains the knowledge of the Old Ones to you in simple terms to get you to comprehend it

Alva teaches you about all sorts of information from data cores whether its agriculture or astrology or hydrophysics just anything she finds fascinating or thinks you'll find fascinating

Erend is a big father figure to you. Aside from Aloy he was one of your father's dearest friends. Erend tells you stories of your father, how loyal he was to his friends, how selfless. Not a day goes by when he doesn't tell you how proud Varl would be of her

Kotalla doesn't visually show affection, as he shows it in different ways. To you his form of affection is teaching you how to be a warrior and teaching you how to perfect everything he's taught you. You might not visibly see it, but Kotalla does adore you and would fight for you anywhere, anyday

Sona takes you East for months at a time to show you where Varl grew up - the Nora, the Carja and the Oseram lands. She teaches you their cultures, beliefs and history.

Growing up without a father was rough for you. Yes, you had more than you could ask for, but there still is that one piece that's missing from your life. You're family has picked up on this, by how you zone out sometimes or go through periods of silence. Aloy found a slight coping mechanism for you because she uses the mechanism herself. Whenever you feel detached or conflicted you can activate a hologram of your father with your Focus to talk to. Aloy does this with a hologram of Rost and it helps her get through her long journeys.

Oh and don't think for one second that your family of warriors won't be there for you.

You've got an important arena trial? Auntie Alva is cheering you along all the way no matter what.

Bullies at school? Uncle Kotalla will send them a death stare that could stop their small pathetic hearts.

Kidnapped by bandits? Don't panic, your badass grandmother Sona will destroy them and come to your aid.

Threatened to be an Outcast by The Chorus because you're part Nora? Sit back and watch mother Zo talk some godamn sense into them.

Questioned on your intelligence? Auntie Beta will argue agaisnt them and pull up your progress on your knowledge of the Old Ones with her focus to prove them wrong

Allies turn on you? Uncle Erend won't hesitant to smash them apart with his hammer.

Mocked for being fatherless? Aunt Aloy will convince you to challenge them in the arena so you can beat their ass.

Got a lead on something big? They're with you all the way.

[mxgalodon]

a small paper aircraft flies into view. it is folded neatly and has the slightest bit of metal attached. enough to be manipulated but still as light to glide gracefully through the sky. inside of it is a hidden note. red paper with white ink on it that reads the following: "Das Laub ist Rost, die Bäume kahl. Es herrscht der Herbst, jetzt rate mal.

Wer trotzdem immer an dich denkt, auch wenn es schwer ihm fällt. Die Temperatur sich bald senkt, der Gedanke sich gar hält.

Was wäre wenn…" -(@xmaster-of-magnetismx)

[Eyeing the incoming paper aircraft with a healthy bit of skepticism, Megalo Don reached out and caught it with ease. He had only really received these things from one person, and given their usual contents, he was hesitant to open another.]

[Imagine his surprise upon noticing the metal bound to the paper. Imagine his terror upon remembering the note he had written to a man in a moment of weakness. A man none other than Magneto, the Master of Magnetism.]

[Megalo Don turned to his book collection and began to rummage through it, trying and failing to swallow down the mounting dread welling up in his throat. He had known it was idiotic to write what he did while he was coming down from his rage, when every emotion felt raw and pure and ripe for the picking. Like a bubbling sunburn, ready to peel; which is the last thing you should do. Yet, he did it.]

[Even if the note was unsigned, unmarked, and unremarkable. Magneto was no fool - his massive intellect was one of the many things Megalo Don found transfixing - of course he would have made the connection. Megalo Don could only hope he hadn't taken to it poorly.]

[Selecting two hefty texts, already worn from prior use, Megalo Don sat down and began translating the poem. His grasp on Magneto's mother tongue was, despite his best efforts as of late, extremely poor. Even so, as an avid reader, he had some experience in translation. By no means exact, but he was quick, and his results were passable enough to understand the message.]

[Though he had the literal translation in hand, he struggled to understand - or rather, accept - the sentiment behind it. Some part of him still screamed in terror, the mere thought of his pining being mutual seeming a mad man's fantasy, despite what evidence to the contrary.]

['Was wäre wenn…' - 'what if...' - what if what?]

[invincible-selfxmade-punk]

A friend of mine at work told me she loved reading my stories. I will periodically put a few anecdotes on Facebook and this is what she was talking about. So as an end of the year gift I am putting together a lot of my essays As I did, it inspired me to write something new.

This was on my mind as I go to visit my Uncle Tony this weekend.

Long

post

ahead

@beckywiththegoodhijab

@albrechtstarkarm

@gifsbysimplysonia

@senor-plume

@elderberriesandarsenic

We remember the dead by telling their stories, so a part of them lives on in whoever reads it.

My father and uncle had a rift that never healed,

Before I tell the story, ut first I must describe to you their mother's home,

It was built in the 1920s by my grandfatger, the furniture was last updated bought 1950s on and was never changed. There were bedrooms with two beds each in them and then a master bedroom the kitchen, a dining room, a large living room and the most beautiful yet compact bathroom I have ever seen. There was both a back porch and then a small patio type wallpaper was of Fantastical things l with gazebo like overhead beams for hanging plants that look over a garden . There was also true incredibly large storage units all the property including a garage and also a seller . The house itself was up on a hill just High Enough that you could see most of the neighborhood and if you looked to the east you could see the highway that ran all the way through town . And my teenage years , in the summer, I was tasked with maintaining the enormous yard . In those days there were more trees that I can count, bushes, and grapevines. Many nights were spent watching the lights of the Town link on while you two played on my boombox sitting on the concrete patio ..

The walls of the room were covered in the most fantastic wallpaper. I had never seen designs like these before or since : Japanese sailing ships, gold on a background of gray. Huge Golden Rose blossoms on a brown background, & other designs I cannot remember.

Both curtains and lamp shades were of heavy fabric and ringed with tassels, It gave the living room a dark, exotic, otherworldly feel and an aura like stepping back in time to a distant foreign land.

I can't recall the flooring type but it was not carpeted the surface was shiny and made of whatever plastic material, but just like the walls, the patterns were singularly artistic, flat, smooth and colorful. My earliest memories are of sitting on that floor as a toddler, playing with felt covered wind up mice my grandfather kept.

The pantry was always full and while my Maw Maw was a wizard at Lebanese cooking, every cracker cookie chip and candy in her house tasted like it was decades old. The tastes of my memories there are of taboule, cabbage rolls, spaghetti with slices of rost beef instead of meatball, and conversely, the cloying taste of staleness.

In almost ever room, above almost every door, was some type of cross and three quarters of the walls displayed the most horrifyingly realistic images of Christ suffering. I will never forget them because they were the illustrations for my first lesson in shame and embarrassment.

When I was around 7 or so, my rich, teenage cousins from El Paso came to visit. I was the poor, half-breed relation and I guess they just wanted to mess with me.

“Hey do you know who that is?”, they asked, pointing to one of the depictions of our Lord and Savior.

I had no freaking idea.

Because of his Catholic upbringing, my dad despised religion, religion in any form, but most is specially Catholicism.

My mother, while a churchgoer on and off for most of her life, thought that Catholics were snobby and stuck up. Looking back, my father's family was probably the only example she had to go on, so of course she thought that.

When I said I didn't know as they pointed to one of the many Christs on the wall, they howled

“YOU DON’T KNOW JESUS?!”, and then pointed to every single Jesus plaque and picture

“HIM!? You don't know HIM!?”

I remember saying “...Well…. he looks like he's in a lot of pain ….”

I remember this was met with laughter.

It's pretty funny because looking back, I can't remember one single thing they told me about Jesus. However, I will never ever forget the shame I felt. I was obviously the only person on Earth whose parents didn't love her enough to tell her about our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. What the hell was wrong with me ?!

That was a pretty heavy thought for a 7-year-old.

My father had two brothers, Tony and Johnny. Both of them were younger and Johnny was born so late and Maw Maw's life that he was stuck with the mentality of a 5-year-old. This combined with the fact that he towered over me, caused me enough fear as a child that I avoided him when possible.

I don't know what kind of relationship my dad and Uncle Tony had as children. All I know is what my father told me in what I was able to observe on my own. My father and Tony were both expected to help out and take over with the clothing store that my grandfather built by hand. He literally went from being a door to door salesman to building his own store.

Whether my dad had any ambition on his own I will never know because he was the dutiful son who toiled loyally with his father. Uncle Tony however, was not so inclined. He wanted to work at electronics. My father said this was fine, Tony could go off to school, get a degree, in return and make his own TV repair shop in town. That way he would be close enough in case his father needed him. And possibly he could still help out his father when necessary.

Again, I will never know if my father wanted to go off to college but Uncle Tony was the son that got to. But once he got his degree he did not return. He took a job in El Paso for Texas Instruments building calculators and he never looked back.

He never returned to help my grandfather nor my father even when my grandfather passed away. After that things between Tony and my dad became very strained. If Tony tried to contact Dad by phone he was told my dad was busy or not there at all. If he came to visit in one of his fancy new cars throwing his money around, my dad simply disappeared, saying he was running errands and would not return until my uncle left.

This left me to stand in for my dad, and my uncle insisted on taking me out to dinner. Of course my dad's Pride would cause him to give me money and insist that I pay for the meal.

Yes, as an awkward adolescent, undiagnosed autistic child I was expected to stand up and insist on paying for everything. That absolutely never happened because I was terrified. So of course I allowed my uncle to pay, I went back and assured my father that I had paid for it and pocketed whatever money he gave me because I could not think of any other way out of it.

Several years later Uncle Tony decided that it would be best to move Maq Maw and Johnny to El Paso to live with him.

I'm not sure what he told my father but I could guess it was along the lines of “I'm richer and I can take better care of her than you.”

I honestly do not know how old she was at the time. She had always been old as long as I can remember, a small plump woman in long dresses and aprons who spoke no English, only Arabic and Spanish.

She had lived in the same house, had the same friends, gone to the same church, in the same neighborhood, her entire life. I doubt she was in any shape to even go to El Paso much less be moved there. No matter how much my dad protested Tony insisted and so that was what happened.

Less than a year after the move, she died. Being left to his own devices, Johnny drank himself to death a few years later.

That was the last straw: dad never forgave him and rightfully so. Dad still refused his calls, and if Tony tried to contact him by mail, dad instructed me to write: Return to Sender– addressee deceased on the envelope.

They did not speak again until Dad was on his Deathbed.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Regalla

Well, first there was the Stuff at Base to deal with.

Poor Erend. He tries to brush off the squishy stuff but he is just this ... big dumb loyal marshmallow wrapped in steel and I just want to hug him.

I do love the viewpoints and moods we get from this group. Zo is ... I have a suspicion about a thing, but overall she's ... maintaining. Alva ... is probably not used to this level of setback, just because of how setbacks are dealt with among the Quen, so obviously she's entirely at sea about how to bounce back. Kotallo is moving on to the next battle because he can't mourn the dead until all the battles are done, just so he knows how many of the dead to mourn - and besides, that's his people. And Erend ... see above re: big dumb loyal marshmallow.

Zo wants to speak to me before I can do anything else? Okay. So now I get to confirm why she's so relatively calm, because that kind of thing is generally--

...okay, first? There is so much beauty in this game, even in its saddest moments, and I will bask in this until--

Yep. Relatively calm because she carries a piece of him, literally. It'll be interesting to see how that little one is raised. (And as a friend of mine pointed out, Sona's lost both of her children now. Though I guess she probably accepted that she lost Varl when he left the Sacred Lands. That's still kind of a Nora thing.)

Also like I was telling this friend of mine? It did have to be Varl, not only for thematic reasons, but for narrative ones. We needed Kotallo, Zo, and Alva as anchors to the current part of the world we're in. We still need Kotallo because we still have things to deal with as regards the Tenakth. Alva will not only be needed in terms of information about the Ancestors, but may also serve as a link to follow in the next game (assuming there will be one, but this doesn't feel like it's going to be over when we punt the Zeniths off our planet; nothing's that simple in this series). Zo ... well, narrative aftercare at minimum, since she's carrying Varl's child. And Erend? Well, he was a possibility, but he was too obvious a possibility, to start with. I mean, come on; he's a beatstick who deals with problems by charging headfirst into them. He's learning a bit of strategy now, but his death wouldn't have the same narrative weight because it's kind of expected from someone who goes into melee with Bristlebacks and who you know would die for you without a second's hesitation. Varl? He's been with Aloy since nearly the beginning. He taught her so much. He wasn't just a Rost for Beta - he was what Rost should have been for Aloy; Rost just didn't know how to be that. He tried to get Aloy to embrace life with the tribe, but he thought the only way was to separate himself from her entirely. Varl spent the last two games walking the line between "what tradition demands" and "what my friend needs", and choosing the latter every time. His world became so vast when he left the Sacred Lands. There were few enough places with narrative weight left for him to go. I've read at least one review that said they wanted to see more of Varl's character arc and that only annoys me because a) we saw a lot of it anyway and b) the only way we could have seen more of it was if it had been him as the main character and not Aloy.

(Yeah, it felt like half the reviewers at minimum would have very much preferred that Aloy be male. They don't like how bossy she is, they think she isn't likeable ... all these things that just get a pass when it's male characters being like that. I hate it.)

Okay. Let's see if flying on a Sunwing will ease my pain.

..................................WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

(I mean ... it really kinda does.)

I FINALLY GET THAT TALLNECK WOO!

I should take a break but ... no. No, I am going to finish off those rebels. I'm done.

YOINK.

Ooooooooooooohohohoho this is awesome.

Okay, what now?

Melee combat with minimal space, that's what. Oh, get fucked.

Right. A little more space. Not much, but...

...You know what? You don't deserve precision or clean shots. For you, Regalla? I'm bringing out the very well upgraded legendary hunter bow. And the fire arrows. BURN!

It is so satisfying watching her be on fire.

Soooooooooo ... I get to throw her at the Zeniths? Really? Yes. Okay. I will do that. Kotallo can keep her honest, and that's what she wanted to do anyway, thanks to Sylens--

Oh. Speaking of. Message from these Prometheus people, which meeeeeeans...

Hi, Sylens. How's the everything? Your plans went tits-up? Yeah, good, because yours were made of dickhead. AGAIN. You want APOLLO? You follow my plans. Because I have them, yes. And I finally, finally know more than you do.

So I am going to get everybody - friends, foes, annoyances - into my base and we're going to do this shit. But to give everybody time to get there ... I have a couple of flight-related side quests to deal with.

Ah, there are those assholes who attacked Tide's Reach. One just wants to ... die on a tiny spit of rock, okay.

Okay, raider rebel jackasses, what building did you climb--?

Oh, this is going to suck for my usual methods of combat...

Melee combat, on a very tiny ledge, with a very long drop I HATE THIS SO MUCH.

Well, I got through it anyway. Now to that one last shelter I couldn't get because I needed flight--

GREENSHINE SLAB YAY!

Now is a good time to take a proper break. I have one more side quest and then I think endgame. I can wait for NG+ for anything really to do with the arena etc.

Yeah, I require an actual meal, and bath, and all that good stuff. But ... lots of thoughts, lots of feels, and holy fuck I forgot how much I love flying mounts.

[decadentpandawasteland]

It's been a bit, and I was having some serious writer's block. Turns out I just needed to read through some of my stuff and decided to expand on some of my other work. This is a continuation of the prompt: "Revenge is all I haven't lost."

Please, as always, feel free to leave feedback and thank you for reading :)

---------------------------------------------------

“Alright lad,” Rost said in a conspiratorial whisper, “we're leavin’ ‘ere. I know yer a big lad, but that ale has lots o’ kick to ‘er, ya know?”

Damien nodded his head in acknowledgment. To be fair, the pumpkin brew did have enough punch to make him away a little when he stood, but he understood Rost's meaning. At least the autumn brew had calmed the madness that was attacking The Brood head on. A sly grin broke across his face before Damien swirled the rest of his pint before taking an exaggerated drink and finishing it off with a loud “Ahhh.”

Damien stood, only slightly exaggerating a dizzy spell. Rost jumped up and caught him, only to almost pull them both down to the table, both men letting out a laughter only accessible to those on the verge of a good drunk.

Damien clasped a hand on the bigger man's arm, “Thank you my friend, I needed a good laugh.” He raised his voice to yell, in a slightly slurred voice, to the mostly empty bar “To good food and even better drink!”

The barmaid continued to try and ignore the bard. The bard continued to think he was charming the poor woman into bed. The two men wandered out into the street, a cozy night blanketing it in darkness. Damien hummed a tuneless song while Rost walked beside him. They passed by closing stores and packed taverns, drinking songs breaking the silence of the night. They walked a while, occasionally stumbling. Two friends enjoying a night of drinks and stories to all those that they passed.

As the smell of ale and sound of songs finally faded, Rost grabbed the smaller man's shoulder. The semi-faux drunkenness was broken, as the two stood at the end of the street.

“Lad, I get yer hurting. Mo’ than ya know. But ya can't let those feelings drive ya to make reckless choices. I trust ya'll find yer way home?” Rost asked, his tone strikingly sober.

The young man nodded, unwilling to meet the other man's eyes. “Good! Now ha'er goodnight lad, I'll be seein’ ya in the mornin’!” The big man said, clapping Damien on the shoulder.

“See you then.” Damien said weakly, turning and walking away from his friend. His words may have been weak, but the fire in his chest was burning. An all encompassing inferno of rage, using everything in him as kindling.

One single thought kept repeating in Damien's mind. “They will pay. Every last one. They. Will. Pay.”

One street over, leaning against the fencing was a dark cloaked figure, strands of long white hair broke through the shadowy sea of her hood. A wicked grin threatened to rip her face in half as she turned to follow Damien.

[princesssarisa]

Character ask: Tamino (The Magic Flute)

No one sent me this ask, I just felt like writing it.

@ariel-seagull-wings, @leporellian

Favorite thing about them: His love for Pamina and the beauty, warmth, and ardor of the music with which he expresses it. I also like productions that make him less of a stalwart paragon and highlight his youthful naiveté and coming-of-age journey.

Least favorite thing about them: The degree of cold sternness he gains as a follower of Sarastro in Act II, of which poor Pamina and Papageno are on the receiving end. Also (and relatedly), his parroting the priests' misogyny in the Act II quintet with Papageno and the Three Ladies.

Three things I have in common with them:

*I can be passionate and hot-blooded.

*I tend to be very trusting.

*I sometimes blindly follow other people's instructions.

Three things I don't have in common with them:

*I'm not royalty.

*Where courage is concerned, I'm more like Papageno.

*I'm female and I don't consider "manhood" an ideal.

Favorite line: The text of "Dies Bildni ist bezauberndt schön."

brOTP: Sarastro and his priests; maybe Papageno too, but only in productions that let him be warmer toward him and less aloof and impatient than he sometimes comes across.

OTP: Pamina.

nOTP: The Queen of the Night.

Random headcanon: When he eventually rules as a "wise monarch" (whether as Sarastro's successor, or of his own father's empire, or however you think it will happen), Pamina will be his equal partner and co-ruler, but her role will chiefly be spiritual and philosophical leadership, while Tamino's will be worldly/political leadership. In effect, they'll both be heirs to Sarastro, but Tamino will embody the "king" aspect of Sarastro's style of ruling, while Pamina embodies the "priest" aspect.

Unpopular opinion: I'm not sure if this is unpopular, but... If the tenor in the role stands like a statue during Pamina's "Ach, ich fühl's," without conveying through facial expressions and body language that Pamina's anguish is breaking his heart, and if he does nothing to express his pain and remorse after she leaves (e.g. starting to run after her only to sadly restrain himself, collapsing to the floor, and/or breaking down in tears), he had better have a magnificent voice, or else he doesn't belong on the stage.

Song I associate with them:

"Dies Bildnis ist bezauberndt schön"

"Wie stark ist nicht dein Zauberton"

Favorite picture of them:

Georg Maikl, early 20th century.

Fritz Wunderlich, 1960s.

Josef Köstlinger, Ingmar Bergman film, 1975.

Unknown tenor (I just love how innocent and happy he looks, and I love the elegant animal costumes).

Michael Schade with Andrea Rost as Pamina, LA Opera, 2002.

Joshua Kohl, Sarasota Opera, 2010.

John Tessier, Seattle Opera, 2011.

Mhlekazi Andy Mosiea in the production by South Africa's Isango Ensemble, 2014.

Alek Shrader, Metropolitan Opera, 2014.

Pasqual Charbonneau, Opéra de Québec, 2018.

[jayedshifter]

Could I get a bitty matchup for my oc Char? Char is not short for Charlotte…It’s short for charbroiled. Char was caught in a housefire and suffered severe burns, as well as several other injuries, and lost an eye. Some days she is perfectly fine, other days she hurts too much to do much of anything. Most days are more on the fine side with some minor aches and pains. Her hair is currently a jewfro as it’s still growing back, and the poor girl has curly hair. She is 32, shows evidence of having lost a lot of weight quickly, with brown hair and eye. (The other is sometimes a normal glass eye, sometimes sparkly, sometimes creepy) She still cares more about others and loves helping out where she can. Often volunteers at Fire department events to talk about being stuck in a fire and what she did wrong. She has extreme self esteem issues from the excessive scarring, and makes self deprecating jokes. She is also sassy and snarky with friends and family, and will make regular puns about herself especially. On low energy/high pain days, she likes reading, movies, and video games to distract herself. On normal days, she enjoys going for walks and meandering hikes.

I most certainly can try my best!

my recommendation to you is a Toro!

Toros can be affectionate an understanding and will store away needed items such as burn cream and snacks in their stomach and chest cavity for whenever you need it! they also know what it feels like to be half blind or have a sensitive area so they will be very cautious and gentle when you need them to be- not only that but you said you dropped a lot of weight right? they can help give you or make a healthy diet to regulate your weight loss and gain! (they can also grow to large hights- about as big as a person which is great because they can also help out with things around the house within your older age-)

my next recommendation is a Lolo!

This bitty is extremely sensitive to Temperature chainages and smells! they can be very alert and tell you if something is wrong! they love to help around the house and as long as your willing to carry something thats cold and long lasting their very much willing to go on walks on hot sunny days! they are also very willing to learn and teach children and other people about the importance and safety about fire safety! yes they are cuddly and physically affectionate but they can hold off if you need it- often times deciding to grab items that you request! (a Lolo will also love to play games and such with you that are non physical or bodily straining)

And lastly- A SugarBob!

Yes they can be mischievous, maybe a bit too curious and adventurous- but they wont judge your looks at all- hes a big confidence booster and will praise you to the high heavens if need be- Sugarbobs can love to learn about new things and sounding smart so they will absolutely be willing to follow your teachings and help teach others- hes also sassy and will indeed sass back with you playfully the entire day- just don't blame me if you get rosted a lot though XD These bitties are also very alert to others moods and their emotions so he can most likely tell when and if you need a break- help or just a quiet day! also he's absolutely willing to beat you in videogames-(Walks outside might be a bit difficult because of his sweet scent attracting things to eat him but if you have scent represents and a special 'no bite' bitty lather that i can provide it can work out perfectly fine!)

[casitafallz]

No, I meant, what gave you the idea of naming the Isabela-centric fanfic "Lest the rost linger" ?

ohhhhh okay.

Well, i mostly was inspired by a metaphor between Isa and her plants in relation with her family and the treatment she was given.

Plants wither and rot with poor care, a well-known fact but in this case, it's a play on that... Isa's gift made her a pretty flower in but as a result of emotional stress and then neglect, the 'plants' began to wither and rot.

Lest is defined as 'the intention of preventing something undesirable' or 'to avoid the risk of...'

Rot - decay, and death. Beautiful things decay into unbeautiful, nothing. Rot, the literal sense, can be hard to remove. Rot can grow and cause harm to others if left unchecked. Even if the mess is cleaned up; there are still going to be marks or evidence of it.

It's...something i see as a warning to the Madrgials in a way "rot is spreading; clean it up or it will never get better" sort of thing or in the metaphor to the family, it's kinda like.."If you don't look after your family, it'll break apart and be hard to recover and restore."

Or, in reference to Isa "Your flower is at risk of rotting if you do nothing" That does have a darker implication, and it's meant to have a few interpretations of it.

I was also inspired bc her Mulitverse counterpart had the nickname 'Decay' and i wanted to make a reference to that as well :)

It's a title i'm very happy about :) What's your interpretation of it if you have one?

[horizontwinflames]

Hahaha, poor Rost; he's just getting used to Aloy bringing home red-haired strays with her face, isn't he?

I think he never got used to that lol

[the1975attheirverybest]

Rosted pepper and garlic soup. Leek soup (thank you oma) , pumpkin soup, lentil soup, roasted veggie soup. My baby cousins quite enjoy carrot and Leek soup with some curry powder in for kick.

Any soup is glorious.

Lentil soup is THEEEE BESTTTT. My grandma makes it soooo good. Little bit of carrot and potato in there. Some parsley and cumin. Best. Thing. Ever. She makes it for me so often whenever I go visit. So much so that my late grandpa used to repeat THE SAME UNFUNNY JOKE TO ME EVERY TIME HE SAW THAT I WAS HAVING LENTIL SOUP.

So, like, in middle eastern culture, legumes like lentils and stuff are associated with lower class meals cuz they’re cheaper than meat and pretty decent at keeping you full. Anyway the joke goes something along the lines of, a poor single father has 2 sons. He can’t afford to feed them anything but lentil soup most days. They’re struggling so much that he eventually decides to take them to the middle of the desert and kill them because he doesn’t have the money to raise them. They beg and beg. Plead with him to let them live. So he’s like “okay fine I guess we’ll just have to keep living on lentil soup.” The poor boys, upon hearing his news, start begging and pleading with there dad to just murder them instead.

LMAO. That’s dark working class middle eastern lentil humor for you.

I don’t care though. Poor people food is delicious. Lentil soup is the best.

[stormikins]

@chronic-ghost wanted to know about two wips from this list. hfw/varl is basically varl/aloy in hfw. I don’t know if im gonna have them get together before the events of the hfw or not buuuuuut... i do have this little angsty piece for you

“You almost died Aloy!” That causes her to look away. There’s more than just anger and exasperation there. She can deal with anger, has made him angry, but the concern- the raw worry gnaws at her.

“I almost die all the time,” she throws back at him, because it’s easier to deal with anger than anything else.

His jaw moves, his mouth twisting in the corner. He takes a deep breath. “You would have died if I hadn’t showed up. Think about that for a second Aloy.”

She doesn’t want to.

But he’s right. There are many times where she’s almost died but she got herself out. But there was Rost and then- as much as it pains to admit -Sylens. Now Varl.

“And I’m grateful for that-”

“Are you? ‘Cause I didn’t do it for gratitude obviously, but all you have done is argue with me.”

“All you’ve done is argue with me!”

“Because for some reason, you took two giant leaps back from learning how to not only work with others but to trust them too! All of those people joined you- from all over -risked their lives for you. And you left them without even saying goodbye. I realize you had a very different, and difficult, upbringing but damn Aloy. Are you really gonna a save a world but have no place in it?"

It doesn't matter, she wants to scream. Elisabet did it, so can I!

As for Endless Freckles: its Rex/Obi-wan and its Rex putting aloe on Obi-wan’s back in a nice moment of domestic peace after a beach day, this was written for rex/obi week but i did not actually finish nor post it but here is some

Rex rubs the excess aloe on his sides and plants a gentle kiss on his shoulder. It tastes like aloe but Obi-wan smiles softly in the mirror, eyes crinkling and fuck, does his chest swell.

He slides his hands up his back once more, running them from his shoulders, and down his arms, stopping on his waist again. He presses another kiss to a mole on his right shoulder. Raising his eyes, he meets Obi-wan’s in the mirror.

“Are you done?” Obi-wan asks.

“I don’t know.” He wraps an arm fully around his front, keeping the other on his hip. He noses behind his ear. He can smell his shampoo. “Am I?” Rex presses his front to his back, kissing the warm skin behind his ear.

“I just took a shower.”

“And now we’re both not sandy; much better. I do not want a rash. I’m not Fives.”

“I don’t wanna know.”

"Let's just say he learned that there are places where sex isn't as desirable."

"Oh, that poor fool."

"Yeah, that’s what I said." Obi-wan shoots him a disbelieving look. "Okay, that’s the point that I got across with what I said." He head leans on Rex's shoulder as he laughs. He doesn't hesitate to press a kiss to his bared throat. His hand goes lower around his waist, edging the top of the towel.

[aegons-queen-rhaella]

FACTS. I'm pretty tired of some people in the fandom saying Aemond had reacted in poor taste to a rost pig like...No you weirdo he had every right to react the way he did. I couldn't imagine being Aemond having to be forced to sit right across from your four attackers(one of which took out his eye) and eat with them. I couldn't have been in that situation, I would have thrown a knife at ol' dude Luce's left eye.

I do not get why people call Aemond ‘pressed’ or ‘bitter’ when he calls the strong boys ‘strong’ in the dinner scene. His insult is a reaction to Luke intentionally laughing at the pig in front of Aemond - a call back to the time Aegon and the strong boys bullied and humiliated him. Luke was giggling, acting as if all was well, as if he didn’t take Aemond’s eye out. His lack of remorse probably triggered Aemond - he had to sit/dine with the person who took his eye, only to find that person laughing at him. Yall keep forgetting that Luke wasn’t punished or held accountable for maiming Aemond, and instead it was Aemond who was ‘sharply questioned’ and even threatened by Viserys, his freaking father. He could’ve resented Luke for that and even hated him. He is rightfully triggered after seeing the person who cut his eye in a 4v1 fight, laughing and mocking him. This boy literally stared into Aemond’s eye and preceded to laugh/scoff. Homeboy never showed remorse, which is no surprise considering he was never properly held accountable. That’s what happens when people aren’t held accountable. They turn smug, mock the people they’ve hurt and even feel as if they have done nothing wrong. 

It was Aemond who had to live with one eye, not Luke. It was Aemond who had to watch his mother beg his father to get justice for their son. It was Aemond who worked twice as hard in his training. What has Luke been doing? Resting comfortably in his mother’s lap? Blissfully ignoring what he did? So excuse me because Aemond has every right to be pissed, triggered, because he has lived with the trauma of everything and because the preparators never apologized or even showed remorse for maiming him.