#renegade wind spirit

[ohlookanothercartoontofallinto]

"Do you hate me because I couldn't protect you? I-I was supposed to protect you! I'm the oldest I should have been able to protect you...."

"Spirit....How can I hate you? You're the only one I left that can make me remember any of them...."

[beardedmrbean]

The women of Iran are dancing. Women blinded, with one eye, or one arm, are dancing. Iranian Kurds are dancing. Across Europe, Iranian dissidents are dancing. Iranians – often, relatives of the regime’s victims – are drinking to show their joy. The daughters of Minoo Majidi, a mother shot dead by security services during the 2022 protests, shared a video of them raising a glass to President Raisi’s death. 

Dark humour – the jokes of an oppressed people – are circulating. “Mr Raisi, you surprised us. We have no tapas for our drinks,” chuckles one Iranian in a celebratory video on social media. There was the gag about how a Mossad agent called “Eli Copter” had caused the crash. People have handed out cakes and sweets in public squares – an act of symbolic importance in Persian culture, often associated with joyous events. Celebratory fireworks filled the skies in Iranian cities.

Such courage is all the more impressive given how little Raisi’s death is likely to change anything in this closed prison of a society. It may somewhat alter the succession, since he had been one of the men tipped to succeed Khamenei, but the Ayatollahs retain their stranglehold. The bravery of anyone involved in any celebration or act of civil disobedience such as removing a headscarf, is astounding. Those letting off fireworks or handing out sweets are risking their lives. 

History will remember Raisi as a squalid tyrant who took a twisted pride in human suffering. He was involved in the torture and extrajudicial murder of thousands of political prisoners held in Iranian jails and the mass killings of opponents in 1988, when as many as 30,000 are believed to have lost their lives. As Mariam Memarsadeghi wrote in a chilling article for Tablet magazine, “virgins were systematically raped before their execution, to circumvent the Islamic prohibition on killing virgins and to prevent women and girls from reaching heaven”. 

And yet, the BBC posted about “President Ebrahim Raisi’s mixed legacy in Iran”. You can imagine the 1945 headlines about the mixed legacy of “motorway-builder, vegetarian rights enthusiast and dog-lover” Adolf Hitler, or that of “inspirational plus-size influencer” Hermann Goering. Reuters described how Raisi “rose through Iran’s theocracy from hardline prosecutor to uncompromising president, as he burnished his credentials to position himself to become the next supreme leader”. 

Reading such things you would think Raisi was, at worst, a slight renegade. A cheeky chappie in a kaftan whose loss will be felt by light entertainment for generations. They tweeted like he was Rod Hull – rather than, you know, someone nicknamed “the Butcher of Tehran”. But in the real world, faced with the real consequences of the regime he ran, people are dancing. 

It wasn’t just the BBC in its classic “tightrope walk” mode, either. Things were getting a bit Candle in the Wind at the UN, as the entire Security Council (including both the UK and US representatives) stood to observe a minute of silence for President Raisi. Goodbye Tehran’s rose. 

European Council president Charles Michel tweeted out his sincere condolences, while the “European Commissioner for Crisis Management” committed the EU’s Copernicus satellite system to help locate Raisi’s helicopter, in the name of “#EUSolidarity”. 

Lest we forget, Johan Floderus, a young EU official from Sweden, has been incarcerated at Iran’s notorious Evin prison for more than two years. We don’t see much “#EUSolidarity” coming from the other direction. Not to be undone, President Higgins of Ireland channelled the spirit of Eamon de Valera c.1945, by offering his “deepest sympathies” upon the death of a tyrant. 

Such statements go well beyond basic diplomacy. Nobody asked anyone to gush; they chose to. The message it sends is a slap in the face to those bravely putting their lives on the line for freedom. But it’s par for the course in what is (sometimes optimistically) termed the “international community”. 

Speaking of which, on Monday, the International Criminal Court put out joint bids for arrest warrants for the leaders of Hamas and the prime minister and defence minister of Israel. Given that the ICC has no jurisdiction, nor power of its own to arrest anyone, there was something bleakly comic about the manner of the announcement. Chief prosecutor Karim Khan delivered his statement flanked by a couple of glaring bureaucrats. The ICC appeared to be putting on its best “don’t mess with us” face. It looked like a geriatric version of Bugsy Malone.

The ICC application refers, pointedly, to the “territory of Israel” and the “state of Palestine”, which makes it clear which side its bread is buttered. It notably ignores Hamas’s use of human shields, surely a factor when assessing the civilian death toll. It even holds Israel entirely responsible for “closing the three border crossing points” after October 7. 

Yet Hamas destroyed the Erez crossing, murdering its operators and blowing up the barriers separating it from the Gaza strip. Small wonder border checkpoints weren’t up and running immediately. Condemning Israel for this is grotesque; gaslighting on an international scale. 

The timing is also telling. We have known about the crimes of October 7 from day one, thanks to the body-cams Hamas terrorists so proudly wore to document their butchery. Yet the ICC waited until May 2024 to condemn both Israel and Hamas on the same day. The effect is to suggest a moral equivalence between a democratic state and a genocidal terrorist group that says it wants to repeat the atrocities of October 7 indefinitely. You don’t have to believe Israel is above criticism – and nor should we – to recognise this. 

Multinational organisations like the ICC are often held up as moral arbiters in themselves, when they will only be as virtuous or corrupt as their component member states, and reflecting the same biases. The World Health Organisation has long excluded Taiwan from its membership due to Chinese pressure. A ruinous decision, when Taiwan’s early warnings about the risks of human-to-human transmission of Covid in late 2019 were ignored. Something is rotten in the state of many international bodies and moral courage is in short supply. 

Given such a clear-cut case of evil as Raisi, the mealy-mouthed global response does not bode well. For genuine bravery, we can look to the people at the sharp end of such regimes. Because still, in the midst of it all, the women of Iran dance. 

[three--rings]

Happy Fanfic Writer Appreciation Day!

So back in May/June I finished my first playthrough of Persona 5 and fell HARD into the shuake/akeshu ship. This fic was one that I read and immediately messaged the author about doing for this event.

And it turned into probably my favorite book I've made yet. The one I am happiest with overall.

The series (both fics are in the book) is First Step. The main fic is "the first step to find your way is to mark where you have been" by @futuresoon

It's a fantastic post-Royal fic that explores the idea that Akechi's spirit is trapped in a Palace, and Akira has to work through the Palace of Akechi's trauma in order to save him.

Also thank you to @munidraws for letting me use their fanart for the fic.

Process details under here

The typesetting was designed based on both canon elements from the game and motifs from the fic. The fic is set mostly in a labyrinth of black stone walls, so I used that for the chapter openers. And the Chapter titles and text messages in the book use the actual fonts from the game (or ones recreated to be very close by fans).

Text messages are shown in very stylized black and white boxes in the game. I decided I couldn't recreate the shape of the boxes without both a lot of work and taking up a lot of page real estate. So I settled for plain black and white boxes. Shoutout to Manda and Des from Renegade for teaching me how to do these easily in Affinity.

The title page took me....more time than I'm willing to admit. Because of the labyrinth theme and long title I wanted a winding brick path for illustration but it proved really difficult to find anything like what I wanted. So I went through a lot of image manipulation to get something like what I wanted. (Shh, it's not a snake.)

I did my first solid painted edges, with a couple fails until I went and bought some black acrylic ink, which worked like a dream. The endpages are linen textured cardstock.

The case is bound in black bookcloth and marbled fabric made into bookcloth. I used purchased black bookcloth for the author copy and made my own paperless bookcloth with acrylic medium and paste from some thrifted fabric. You can tell the difference in person, but it's subtle. The marble is quilting fabric from Joann's which I also turned into paperless bookcloth and then folded and glued down as a strip.

The spine is titled with heat foil quill in red foil. It's not perfect, but came pretty close for using foil that is not fantastic in quality.

[leggerefiore]

Hey Fi, do you remember that one ficlet you wrote forever ago where reader nearly got kidnapped by Yan! Submas from an alternate universe, then saved by OG Submas?

Would you consider doing one for Cyrus, or if Yandere is too OOC for Cyrus, maybe OG vs. Rainbow Rocket? A third option, if you have some ideas for who Cyrus could've been without, or at least with less, abuse would be Cyrus vs. a healthier Cyrus.

High Five Anon

cw: yandere, unhealthy relationships, happy ending(?), cyrus being a bit ooc since one is yandere but too much

pairing: Cyrus/Reader (x2)

Spirit Of Corruption

The breath in your lungs was knocked out by the way the Renegade pokemon seemingly slashed through reality itself. A tear within space and time, to which Cyrus could only stare in pure, silent terror as it consumed you before his eyes. He had been working with the legendary to investigate possible other options for his perfect world. Unfortunately, his research seemed to take a bad turn. You tried to reach out for his hand as he rushed towards you, desperate to bring you back to reality.

The pure fear of losing someone he loved again burned harshly in his eyes. He misses you by only a few millimetres, and you hear him shout your name. His monotone is broken with worry and desperation. Your heart aches at the pain that simply pours from him.

It is the last thing you see as your vision is obscured by a sudden brightness that bleeds into an endless darkness.

Around you, there is simply nothing.

A void.

Then, there is everything.

You fall from the sky and land on a stone ground. Dull pain sprouts out from your bottom as it took a majority of the fall. Desperate breaths are sucked in as you gaze around the area. Instantly, you recognise it.

Spear Pillar.

The peak of Mt. Coronet.

Shakily, you stand. Had you just been kicked out of the Distortion World? Your terror faded as you took in the sights from the peak of the mountain. You were safe, well, and in a familiar location. It was peculiar, everything that had come before, but you supposed it was just like that crossing in the portal that broke space and time. You lean against a pillar in your relief.

However, a voice calls out your name from behind. Turning around, you see Mars. She shakes oddly, eyes wide and mouth agape. Hurried steps are rushed towards you as she grabs your arms. Her grip is tight as she looks you over in bewilderment. You tilted your head. Cyrus's “team” was not something you were deeply familiar with, but you had come to know his commanders somewhat after he had refused to leave the Distortion World.

“Where… Where have you been?” she asked with wide eyes, “He's been looking all over for you! He was convinced you had died!” Her words felt confusing and nonsensical. Who was looking for you? The context of assuming death made you think of Cyrus, but she seemed far too frantic.

“… I was just in the Distortion World,” you cocked a brow up, “Cyrus was there doing experiments, and I joined him.” Her face twisted in a strange way. For a long moment, she was silent as she seemed to try to observe you much too closely for comfort. Whatever had spurred her suspicion was apparently pushed to the side, however.

“Mhm…” she nodded, “Something happened, then, right? He's back at HQ, worried about you. C'mon!” The redhead pulled at your arm with an alarming amount of strength. Was something wrong? Perhaps you had travelled slightly forward in time… That seemed like the only reasonable explanation for everything. You sighed and let her pull you down the winding mountain's caves and towards the quickest transport to Veilstone. The trip into the Galactic building was met with a few stares from members and even an expression of shock.

She knocked on the door to Cyrus's office as she nervously gazed around the dead-end hallway before straightening her posture. The doors clicked open to reveal Cyrus sitting at his desk, eyes not moving away from his computer. He seemed his usual self, despite the obvious upset he had been in when you were dragged into the portal. Relief flooded your system.

“What is it?” his voice was harsh, and it was clear he did not want to be bothered. Mars stepped into the room and glanced back at you. She wanted you to follow her in. You did as she wanted.

“Um, Master Cyrus,” the commander greeted him politely, “I found your... er, partner.” She looked to you for confirmation. You just blinked a few times. Cyrus visibly tensed before breaking his gaze to look at her. His eyes landed on you first, however. Something in his eyes felt strange as his expression nearly broke his usual stone-face.

“… I see,” the Galactic Boss nodded, hiding whatever it was he wished to say to you away, “I will provide an adequate reward for this. You are dismissed.” He stood up and fell into his usual pose with his arms behind his back. She gave a slight nod and awkward grin before heading back out of the office. The doors closed behind her.

Was everyone normally this awkward? You swore she seemed to be all over him normally. Mars seemed afraid to even meet his eyes. Before you could question anything, Cyrus had made his way over to you. His eyes peered at you in a scrutinising manner, almost as if he were trying to verify it was actually you. The strange behaviour was somewhat reasonable, you supposed. What just happened would naturally bring out worries.

His hand came to cup your cheek. He swallowed and closed his eyes. “Beloved…” The familiar term of endearment warmed your heart. You leaned into his touch and brought a hand to rest on his. “I thought I had lost you forever,” Cyrus whispered. You could only smile. Yeah, you thought you were, too. Here you were, though. Safe and unharmed and back where you belonged.

“It was a bit scary,” you admitted, “I thought I was going to die, but I ended up back with you in the end.” His eyes met yours. Something odd spiralled in them. He removed his hand to instead pull you close to him. When was the last time Cyrus had been this clingy? You leaned into him once again.

“Let us go home,” the blue-haired man spoke, “I… I wish to go to a more comforting environment.”

You could only agree, feeling disgruntled by the feelings the headquarters brought you.

~

You watched as he slid the key card to your apartment in the slider. A beep followed, and the sound of the lock pulled back. Cyrus opened the door for you. Strange, you thought. Normally, he would just walk in. Maybe he was feeling an urge to be extra careful after everything that had happened. You stepped inside, greeted by your apartment. Looking around, you felt it was strangely off. Not in a way that was easily described in words, but something that you simply perceived and understood.

You gazed out the veranda doors after pulling back the blinds to see the evening sun enveloping Veilstone beautifully. Slipping your hand in the door's groove, you found it unmovable. Cyrus's hand came to grasp your shoulder. It was tight and heavy. Turning your head, you met his gaze. Something was still so wrong. Your stomach churned as you considered the situation.

“… How did you escape?” his voice is empty and demanding. You froze. What? What could he possibly mean? Escape? From the portal? Your silence upset him as he spun you around. His hand moved to instead hold your chin and make you meet his eyes. You swallowed.

“From… the portal?” you answered with a question, “Cyrus, it just spit me out at Spear Pillar.” His eyelids narrowed, and his grip became tighter. Pulling you closer, he frowned truly.

“From this apartment,” Cyrus clarified, “Do you know how many locks I have had installed? I had to change them all.” You froze. Despite obviously seeing your distress, he continued, “I am happy that you realised the foolishness in your actions and opted to return, but I must know how you escaped in the first place.” You felt as if the gravity in the room became ten times as strong. An uneven breath escaped you.

“… I… don't know what you are talking about,” you shook your head, “Are you feeling well? This isn't like you at all, Cy!” Escaping his hold, you grab onto his shoulders and frantically look at him. He cocks a brow up at you. Silence overtakes the room. His eyes then close.

“… I could ask the same of you,” the Galactic Boss mumbles out. He removes your hands from his shoulders. Holding them, his grip is strong. It seemed he understood there was something that neither of you had understood about each other. Before more could be said, his phone went off. A sigh came from him as he checked the message. Whatever it said made him stiffen. “I will return,” Cyrus shot a stern look at you, “We will continue this conversation when I get back.”

He then marched right out the door, locking it behind him. You felt ill staring at the weird code system on the inside of the door alongside another card reader. The locks clicked shut, and you realised that you were trapped within the apartment. Trying the door knob was fruitless as panic overtook your mind. Cyrus would never do this. Not your Cyrus. He was too caring and gentle. Nothing like whatever this was.

Everything felt hopeless as you rushed around the apartment, trying every last possible way to escape. The veranda door was truly unable to open, while most windows had a lock or were simply not the kind that opened. Terror blossomed in your chest as you sat on the couch with your head buried in your hands. What was this? You felt as if the only answer that made sense was this being an alternate world. Cyrus had spoken about the possibility but seemed uninterested unless it was one that lacked spirit. You felt this one had too much if this Cyrus's behaviour was anything to go by.

The alternative you of this world had seemingly escaped this apartment and fled from him. Lucky them. You had unwittingly replaced them. Would he keep you when he realised you were not truly the same you that had escaped? The thought was terrifying. Somehow, you felt that he would find you a worthy replacement. Your Cyrus would probably never find you and assume you were dead.

The dread nearly consumed your heart as you sat there in the eerily silent apartment.

Then, your phone went off.

It startled you as it broke the lack of sound and filled it with your loud ringtone.

You pulled it out in shock and stared at it in bewilderment. A call was coming through. The caller's ID left you floored.

Answering it, you pressed it to your ear.

“Where are you?” the voice of your boyfriend came through, “I used Giratina to enter the portal.”

Your heart fluttered in pitiful relief.

“Our apartment,” then you rethought your words, “Er – our apartment in this world.”

“… Interesting,” his tone changed subtly, “Then, I presume you have met a version of me in this world.” You could tell he was wondering how you understood his words so easily then.

“Please. Hurry, I don't think there is really a good time to explain this,” you worked to placate him instead, “He's strange. Stranger than you. I was locked in our apartment by him.”

“I see,” he sounded like he was attempting to hide his thoughts, “I will then. Please do not do anything to provoke him, then.” With that, the call was ended, and you were left in silence again.

Hopefully, Cyrus would get you out, and you both could return to your world in peace.

~

A hand firmly shaking your shoulder broke you from the small slumber you had fallen into at some point, having curled up on the couch while unsure of what to do while waiting. Rubbing your eyes, you saw Cyrus looking down at you. He pulled you to your feet and looked you over. Your tired mind lagged for a moment before he let out a sigh of relief.

“The door had countless electronic locks on it,” Cyrus looked exhausted, “I found a way to disable most, but the few I had to brute force raised my concern about it attracting the version of myself in this world.” You stiffened. He sighed and shook his head. “How odd. I never felt a need for such things,” he commented, “What are his intentions… I feel as if I should understand it, but I do not.” You really did not, either. When you tried to consider Cyrus's actions, none of them involved locking you in your apartment.

“… I don't know either,” you agreed with him, “I want to leave, though. Let's go back to our home, please.” You grabbed tightly onto his arm. His eyes shifted to something oddly soft. A nod was his only reply before he shrugged off your grip. The two of you soon departed from the odd parallel of your shared apartment and out onto Veilstone's streets. With a recalled knowledge, Cyrus easily navigated through them to head to the nearest station to get out of the city. Opening a portal would draw too much attention and onlookers there, after all.

But, as you both approached the location, familiar uniformed people stood out among the people going in and out of it. The Galactic Leader let out a breath. A few confused Galactic grunts wandered over to Cyrus and stared at him. Their eyes moved from between you and the man as they seemingly tried to understand something you both did not know. It was easy enough to find out, however.

“Master Cyrus… Didn't you order us to look for your partner…?” a female grunt finally offered up what was bothering them. Cyrus shot a harsh look at them and nearly made them recoil. You wondered if he felt the urge to actually express his upset towards whatever his alternate self was doing.

“Perhaps I did,” he agreed, “However, is it not obvious that the situation has changed if I, myself, are with them? Tell your other members to end their search at once and return to HQ.” Her eyes went big at the order given to her by her believed boss. A 'yes sir!' came from her as she quickly began to spread it between her and the many other grunts. It would unfortunately feed more information to the other Cyrus, but for now, you two simply focused on getting on the train.

He held his head in obvious frustration as you both took your seats. You had sat near the window, trying to hide yourself as best you could. Neither of you wanted to deal with another situation, after all. Leaning your head on Cyrus's shoulder, you let out a shaky breath. Thankfully, the grunts were too blinded by their dedication to him to truly question his sudden changes.

“… He's using Team Galactic to search for you,” Cyrus mumbled to himself, “How odd.”

Odd, indeed. Your Cyrus barely told you much about Team Galactic outside of treating it as a normal company. He had not wanted to know of his plans, as he was fully aware that you would attempt to stop him. You never really even met any members outside when you tried to surprise him at work. Of course, the receptionist refused to let you up to his office.

“I bet you used Team Galactic to find me earlier,” you joked and tried to lighten the heavy mood. It would all be over soon. You would go back home to your normal apartment with your boyfriend and probably demand he actually cuddle with you after everything. Maybe food would be ordered.

“… I used our technology, certainly” he sighed, “I do not trust my grunts to cross dimensions.”

You held back a laugh.

~

Night had now settled in the world as the twinkling stars above lit the void of space that hung in the sky. The moon glimmered ominously, reflecting the light from the ever shining sun. The dewy grass was cold against any exposed skin. The Galactic Boss readied himself to send out the Renegade pokemon. Your heart pounded. The area was completely absent of other people. It was time to return home.

Before he could release Giratina, however, a loud cawing broke the silence of the night. Above you both, a Honchkrow flew around, belting its lungs out. His head flung up as his eyes went wide. You screamed as your body crashed to the ground. Sharp claws threatened your skin as the red eyes of a Weavile stared at you. It was more than apparent what was going on. Cyrus sent out his Houndoom without any hesitation and ordered a flamethrower. The Weavile acted quick, however, and jumped off from you.

Cyrus's eyes were fixed upon a location as you got yourself back onto your feet. You followed to where his harsh look was directed and felt your blood run cold. It was more than apparent from everything else who it was. The other Cyrus stood there with the Weavile and Honchkrow at his sides. His gaze felt constricting as he took a step forward. You rushed back to your Cyrus.

“… Quite intriguing,” the other Cyrus replied, stopping as you hid behind your own, “I would ask where you found such a dedicated impersonator, but I can grasp it all now.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “A portal…” he mumbled out, “Of course, you were from another world. You acted nothing like they had.” His Weavile suddenly attempted an Ice Punch on Houndoom. It was dodged narrowly by the dark-type. Cyrus instantly called for another Flamethrower. It was a distraction as the other Cyrus moved closer, gaze solely upon you. “I will accept you, nonetheless,” he spoke to you alone, “I will not allow anyone else to take you, not even another version of myself.”

You flinched as he suddenly rushed towards you to grasp you. Your reaction time was slow as he caught your wrist. He pulled you to his body. His hold was tight and suffocating. You struggled against him. Whatever attempt at pokemon battle was going on was forgotten as your Cyrus instead rushed over. The rage on his face was something almost foreign to you as he forced the other man's hold off from you.

As you fell back from the surprising force Cyrus had used, you grabbed a certain pokeball from his waist. The two seemingly identical men stared intensely at each other, with no words said. However, from the slight grimace on the other Cyrus's face, you could tell that your Cyrus's grip on his worst was something painful. His eyes looked nearly blank as he knocked the other man to the ground.

Turning away from whatever they were beginning to do, you sent out the pokemon from its ball. Giratina's shrill cry echoed in the bight as its glowing eyes shined. An order to open a portal back to your world was shouted, and it instantly obeyed. A tear in space and time was clear as day as he finally moved to look back at the two men. Your Cyrus remained on top of the other one. His Houndoom tried to pull him back as he pressed the alternate version of himself into the grass and dirt below.

“How disgusting,” he hissed at him as he still tried to turn his gaze to you, “An obvious effect of the incompleteness of spirit.” Before whatever conversation of the century could unfold between the two men, you aided Houndoom in pulling him back. His head turned around to the portal as he was relieved. You ran towards it while he called back Houndoom to join you. Jumping in, you could hear an angry yell follow.

Whatever happened was unknown as you landed on a rocky floor. Behind you, the portal swirled for a few moments before Cyrus stepped out, with Giratina following him. You handed him the legendary's pokeball as the portal slowly came to a close, leaving you both in the silence of the cave. Turnback cave again… You let out a shaky breath and collapsed to your knees.

What was all that? You felt insane for a moment.

Cyrus laid a firm hand on the middle of your shoulders. You looked up at him. He had not seemed himself in those final moments, either. Blathering his usual nonsense about spirit, sure, but… You let out a shaky breath. He had never been violent before. It just seemed foreign to his nature.

Standing up, you embraced him tightly, burying your face into his nape. His arms came around you slowly, understanding you needed comfort over anything else for now.

“Cy,” you finally spoke after a few moments, “Take off tomorrow.”

“… I will,” Cyrus agreed, “I am deeply sorry you had to experience all that.”

“Just… don't install any new locks, please.”

“I will not,” he shook his head, “I would never allow spirit to corrupt me in such ways.”

Corrupt… spirit…

You could only silence whatever ramble may overcome him with a kiss.

[glowing-blue-feathermage]

Hallo beloved! you know who I haven't heard about in a long time? Solona! Could she and Anders get into some worrisome hijinks with a bit of [ COAT ]:     sender removes their jacket and drapes it around the shoulders of the trembling receiver.

pretty please? 🥺

helloooo love! ty for the prompt! some Solona Amell & Anders, cw: blood, blood-magic

for @dadrunkwriting

The last of the darkspawn fell to the arrow lodged in its throat. When he was sure it wasn’t going to get up again, Anders stepped over it into the next room. 

The silence that followed was incongruous, broken only by the hiss of cold wind around the bones of the farmhouse. 

Dust and detritus covered the floor, scuffed with footprints. The smell of wet wood and decay filled Anders’ nose as he picked his way around weather-rotted furniture to the back rooms.

The first thing Anders realized as he moved down the hall was that there were no voices. The templar that had led them here in search of a renegade mage—one they meant to rescue—had said there was a trap door in a storage room, and Solona had gone with him. The darkspawn had attacked from the fallow field behind the abandoned lot, and Solona hadn’t come back. Anders had a sick feeling, holding his breath until he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. He shouldered the door open at the end of the hall, the coppery tang of blood making his nose tingle.

“Solona?” he called. 

She didn’t answer, but the sun streamed in through the broken window on the north-facing wall, making a wan pool of wintry light in the center of the room. It glinted off silver armor, picked out the auburn in Solona’s hair and made it shine like fire, and illuminated the lake of blood on the floor. 

The Warden-Commander was standing over the body of the templar, her arms limp at her side. A knife was in her right hand and a slow trickle of red seeped from her exposed arm, sliding down the pale, freckled skin and dripping to the wooden beams at her feet. 

“He didn’t remember me,” she said at last, because Anders was still standing in the doorway staring. 

Anders looked at the templar again and her words fell into place easily enough. His throat felt dry and a sharp pang of hatred and anger lanced through his chest. 

“Your face was the last thing he saw,” Anders told her firmly, stepping into the room at last. The floor was sticky and slick, but he made his way to her. 

“Once—” She stopped, her voice hitching briefly. When she spoke again, it was more of a hiss. “Once was not enough.” The hand holding the dagger was trembling.

Anders wasn’t going to try to take it away from her or heal the cut on her arm. They’d learned long ago that Solona’s own spirit wanted no other to care for her wounds.

He could, at least, comfort her. Practical gear was something Solona insisted on. Tevinter-style robes might look pretty, but they were lacking as armor and insufficient in cold weather. Solona herself, though, never wore anything with thick sleeves, nothing that she couldn’t shuck quickly or cut through to get to her flesh with a blade.

Anders shrugged his own coat off, ignoring the prickle of gooseflesh that stung his arms. He moved closer until she could see his face, until he could meet her eyes before he gently draped it over her shoulders. 

It made her look small, almost waifish. Her face was ashen, her blue-gray eyes feverish, auburn hair stuck to her forehead beneath a tacky smear of blood. 

“He didn’t remember me,” she told him again, like she’d forgotten telling him a moment before.

Anders swallowed around the knot in his throat and carefully put an arm around her. “He’s dead now,” was the most comforting thing there was to say. The only thing that really mattered. 

Solona said nothing for a moment. Then the dagger in her hand slid back into the sheath on her opposite arm and she leaned forward and spit across the ravaged, blood-stained face of the dead templar. Anders felt the tug of the Fade around them seconds before the corpse erupted in flames. 

“I want them all,” she whispered. 

“So do I,” Anders told her. And she finally let him guide her out of the burning room. 

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Madeline Grant

Published: May 21, 2024

The women of Iran are dancing. Women blinded, with one eye, or one arm, are dancing. Iranian Kurds are dancing. Across Europe, Iranian dissidents are dancing. Iranians – often, relatives of the regime’s victims – are drinking to show their joy. The daughters of Minoo Majidi, a mother shot dead by security services during the 2022 protests, shared a video of them raising a glass to President Raisi’s death. 

Dark humour – the jokes of an oppressed people – are circulating. “Mr Raisi, you surprised us. We have no tapas for our drinks,” chuckles one Iranian in a celebratory video on social media. There was the gag about how a Mossad agent called “Eli Copter” had caused the crash. People have handed out cakes and sweets in public squares – an act of symbolic importance in Persian culture, often associated with joyous events. Celebratory fireworks filled the skies in Iranian cities.

Such courage is all the more impressive given how little Raisi’s death is likely to change anything in this closed prison of a society. It may somewhat alter the succession, since he had been one of the men tipped to succeed Khamenei, but the Ayatollahs retain their stranglehold. The bravery of anyone involved in any celebration or act of civil disobedience such as removing a headscarf, is astounding. Those letting off fireworks or handing out sweets are risking their lives. 

History will remember Raisi as a squalid tyrant who took a twisted pride in human suffering. He was involved in the torture and extrajudicial murder of thousands of political prisoners held in Iranian jails and the mass killings of opponents in 1988, when as many as 30,000 are believed to have lost their lives. As Mariam Memarsadeghi wrote in a chilling article for the Tablet, “virgins were systematically raped before their execution, to circumvent the Islamic prohibition on killing virgins and to prevent women and girls from reaching heaven”. 

And yet, the BBC posted about “President Ebrahim Raisi’s mixed legacy in Iran”. You can imagine the 1945 headlines about the mixed legacy of “motorway-builder, vegetarian rights enthusiast and dog-lover” Adolf Hitler, or that of “inspirational plus-size influencer” Hermann Goering. Reuters described how Raisi “rose through Iran’s theocracy from hardline prosecutor to uncompromising president, as he burnished his credentials to position himself to become the next supreme leader”. 

Reading such things you would think Raisi was, at worst, a slight renegade. A cheeky chappie in a kaftan whose loss will be felt by light entertainment for generations. They tweeted like he was Rod Hull – rather than, you know, someone nicknamed “the Butcher of Tehran”. But in the real world, faced with the real consequences of the regime he ran, people are dancing. 

It wasn’t just the BBC in its classic “tightrope walk” mode, either. Things were getting a bit Candle in the Wind at the UN, as the entire Security Council (including both the UK and US representatives) stood to observe a minute of silence for President Raisi. Goodbye Tehran’s rose. 

European Council president Charles Michel tweeted out his sincere condolences, while the “European Commissioner for Crisis Management” committed the EU’s Copernicus satellite system to help locate Raisi’s helicopter, in the name of “#EUSolidarity”. 

Lest we forget, Johan Floderus, a young EU official from Sweden, has been incarcerated at Iran’s notorious Evin prison for more than two years. We don’t see much “#EUSolidarity” coming from the other direction. Not to be undone, President Higgins of Ireland channelled the spirit of Eamon de Valera c.1945, by offering his “deepest sympathies” upon the death of a tyrant. 

Such statements go well beyond basic diplomacy. Nobody asked anyone to gush; they chose to. The message it sends is a slap in the face to those bravely putting their lives on the line for freedom. But it’s par for the course in what is (sometimes optimistically) termed the “international community”. 

Speaking of which, on Monday, the International Criminal Court put out joint bids for arrest warrants for the leaders of Hamas and the prime minister and defence minister of Israel. Given that the ICC has no jurisdiction, nor power of its own to arrest anyone, there was something bleakly comic about the manner of the announcement. Chief prosecutor Karim Khan delivered his statement flanked by a couple of glaring bureaucrats. The ICC appeared to be putting on its best “don’t mess with us” face. It looked like a geriatric version of Bugsy Malone.

The ICC application refers, pointedly, to the “territory of Israel” and the “state of Palestine”, which makes it clear which side its bread is buttered. It notably ignores Hamas’s use of human shields, surely a factor when assessing the civilian death toll. It even holds Israel entirely responsible for “closing the three border crossing points” after October 7. 

Yet Hamas destroyed the Erez crossing, murdering its operators and blowing up the barriers separating it from the Gaza strip. Small wonder border checkpoints weren’t up and running immediately. Condemning Israel for this is grotesque; gaslighting on an international scale. 

The timing is also telling. We have known about the crimes of October 7 from day one, thanks to the body-cams Hamas terrorists so proudly wore to document their butchery. Yet the ICC waited until May 2024 to condemn both Israel and Hamas on the same day. The effect is to suggest a moral equivalence between a democratic state and a genocidal terrorist group that says it wants to repeat the atrocities of October 7 indefinitely. You don’t have to believe Israel is above criticism – and nor should we – to recognise this. 

Multinational organisations like the ICC are often held up as moral arbiters in themselves, when they will only be as virtuous or corrupt as their component member states, and reflecting the same biases. The World Health Organisation has long excluded Taiwan from its membership due to Chinese pressure. A ruinous decision, when Taiwan’s early warnings about the risks of human-to-human transmission of Covid in late 2019 were ignored. Something is rotten in the state of many international bodies and moral courage is in short supply. 

Given such a clear-cut case of evil as Raisi, the mealy-mouthed global response does not bode well. For genuine bravery, we can look to the people at the sharp end of such regimes. Because still, in the midst of it all, the women of Iran dance. 

[jessicamdawn]

For my 12 friend-recommended books Reading Challenge I have:

1. An Elderly Lady is Up to No Good 2. Renegades 3. The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind 4. Wendy, Darling 5. White Oleander 6. The Stray Spirit 7. The Wisdom of the Native Americans

I still need 5 more recommendations to fill out my chart. Help?

[aur0ralights]

Both of the comics, all of the above, spill.

eeeheheheheh specificially with One Way Ticket my lips are sealed, all i can say about it is that its a comic im working on with @marinovels and it is my heart and soul at the moment- i can give a few funny snippets from the pages!

and thennn ill post the description of the story written by Mari themselves;

A fancomic for A Link Between Worlds, starring the renegade pilot Ravio and Link, his mysteriously rich passenger, and follows their journey to "anywhere."

if ur interested in it, the blog is blank at the moment, but ITLL HAVE STUFF SOON IVE JUST GOTTA FINISH IT xD

AND NOW- Linked Galaxiessss ehhehe

its another one of those things that takes my braincells by storm, the basic premise is like, all the links, but in space. and i mean all of em- minish, worlds and spirit would be there! all the brotherssss

ill give some more worldbuilding, any plot would be spoilers that im not quite ready to give away yet-

Sky is from a planet in the Hyrule System called Skyloft, in fact, Loftians are a big player in the story, they have a HUGE political reach, as well as an advantage being such close neighbors to the Hyrulean Galactic Organization that it would be odd if they didn't keep their positive ties.

Spirit works as an engineer for the HGO- related to wind :D

Minish and Hyrule are from what's called the Mini System. it was a galaxy that larger creatures couldn't go to. They used to have to use technology to shrink themselves down to the level of the native Picori and Fae that inhabited the Mini System- although... their galaxy was destroyed on account of *s p o i l e r s s s*

yeaa, all the other links are too deep in the plot to give any details about them, and considering i gave away that an entire system was done away wiiiiith- yeh xD

[the-book-queen]

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She can see ghosts and inherits her aunt's inn where spirits go before the afterlife. He's a ghost hunter determined to uncover the secrets of the "haunted location".

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FREE ✦ Cowboys & Love by Erin Wright

2 books:

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Guardian/ward + grumpy/sunshine.

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[my-chaos-radio-2010s-list]

Radioactive - Imagine Dragons

Rain Over Me - Pitbull feat. Marc Anthony

Ready Or Not - Bridgit Mendler

Reality - Lost Frequencies feat. Janieck Devy

Red Lights - Tiësto

Renegades - X Ambassadors

Rhythm Of Love - Tq, Italove

Ride It - Regard

Ride Or Die - The Knocks feat. Foster The People

Right There - Nicole Scherzinger feat. 50 Cent

Riva (Restart The Game) - Klingande feat. Broken Back

River Flows In You - Jasper Forks

Roar - Katy Perry

Rocketeer - Far East Movement, Ryan Tedder

Rosana - Wax

Roses - The Chainsmokers feat. ROZES

Run Away With Me - Carly Rae Jepsen

Runaround Sue - Human Nature

-

Safe And Sound - Capital Cities

Sailing - Mike Oldfield

Salt - Ava Max

Same Old Love - Selena Gomez

Sans rancune - Sindy feat. La Fouine

Santa Tell Me - Ariana Grande (Xmas)

Say Something - Justin Timberlake feat. Chris Stapleton

Search Party (OST 'Paper Towns') - Sam Bruno

Seek Bromance - Tim Berg

Self Control - Bebe Rexha

Señorita - Shawn Mendes, Camila Cabello

Shake It Off - Taylor Swift

Shame - Elle King

She Makes Me Wanna - JLS feat. DEV

She Moves (Far Away) - Alle Farben feat. Graham Candy

She Wolf (Falling To Pieces) - David Guetta feat. Sia

She's Got Nothing On (But The Radio) - Roxette

She's On Fire - Bo Saris

She's So Mean - Matchbox Twenty

Shower - Becky G

Side To Side - Ariana Grande feat. Nicki Minaj

Sing Me To Sleep - Alan Walker

Sing That Song - Shaun Bate feat. Sirona

Sit Next To Me - Foster The People

Sit Still, Look Pretty - Daya

Skin - Rag'n'Bone Man

Slow It Down - Amy Macdonald

Solo - Clean Bandit, Demi Lovato

Someone Like You - Adele

Something About You - Elderbrook, Rudimental

Something In The Water - Brooke Fraser

Song For Sophie - Aura Dione

Sparks - Hilary Duff

special - Shinedown

Speeding Cars - Walking On Cars

Spirit Indestructible - Nelly Furtado

Stay - Kygo feat. Maty Noyes

Stay - Zedd, Alessia Cara

Stay With Me - Sam Smith

Strangers - Sigrid

Stuttering - Fefe Dobson

Summer Paradise - Simple Plan feat. Sean Paul

SuperLove - Charli XCX

Survivors - Passenger

-

Talk Talk - Cannons

The Adventures Of Rain Dance Maggie - Red Hot Chili Peppers

The Chamber - Lenny Kravitz

The Edge - Tonight Alive

The Flood - Take That

The Girl Is Mine - 99 Souls, Destiny’s Child & Brandy

The Greatest - Sia

The Middle - Zedd, Maren Morris, Grey

The Mother We Share - CHVRCHES

The One That Got Away - Katy Perry

The Sound Of Silence - Disturbed

Thrift Shop - Macklemore & Ryan Lewis feat. Wanz

Thumbs - Sabrina Carpenter

Thunderclouds - LSD (Sia, Diplo, Labrinth)

Tornado - Little Big Town

Treasure - Bruno Mars

Tu Vuo ‘Fa’ L'Americano - Hetty & The Jazzato Band

-

Wagon Wheel - Darius Rucker

Watermelon Sugar - Harry Styles

Waves - Mr. Probz

Way Down We Go - KALEO

We Found Love - Rihanna feat. Calvin Harris

Wet - Nicole Scherzinger

Who Do You Think Of? - M.O

Wind Flower - MAMAMOO

Wolves Without Teeth - Of Monsters And Men

-

You - The Pretty Reckless

You Are The Reason - Calum Scott

You Don’t Know Love - Olly Murs

You Don't Know Me - Ofenbach feat. Brodie Barclay

You Don't Own Me - SAYGRACE feat. G-Eazy

You Make Me - Avicii

You Say - Lauren Daigle

Your Song - Ellie Goulding

You’re In Love With A Psycho - Kasabian

[seahgreenhorn]

(via A 'Restless Sea')

Yes: "The memory of the righteous one is due for a blessing, But the name of the wicked will rot." Prov. 10:7. For: "The sinners will vanish from the earth, And the wicked will no longer exist. Let me praise Jehovah. Praise Jah!" Ps. 104:35.

A 'Restless Sea' “The heavens are my throne, and the earth is my footstool. Where, then, is the house that you could build for me, And where is my resting-place?” “My own hand has made all these things, And this is how they all came to be,” declares Jehovah. “To this one, then, I will look, To the one humble and broken in spirit who trembles at* (Or “is anxious about.”) my word." Isa. 66:1, 2. *** "When you cry for help, Your collection of idols will not rescue you. A wind will carry all of them away, A mere breath will blow them away, But the one who takes refuge in me will inherit the land And will take possession of my holy mountain. It will be said, ‘Build up, build up a road! Prepare the way! Remove any obstacle from the way of my people.’” For this is what the High and Lofty One says, Who lives* forever and whose name is holy: “I reside in the high and holy place, But also with those crushed and lowly in spirit, To revive the spirit of the lowly And to revive the heart of those being crushed. For I will not oppose them forever Or always remain indignant; For a man’s spirit would grow feeble because of me, Even the breathing creatures that I have made. I was indignant at his sinful pursuit of dishonest gain, So I struck him, I hid my face, and I was indignant. But he kept walking as a renegade, following the way of his heart. I have seen his ways, But I will heal him and lead him And restore comfort to him and to his mourning ones.” “I am creating the fruit of the lips. Continuous peace will be given to the one who is far away and the one who is near,” says Jehovah, “And I will heal him.” “But the wicked are like the restless sea that cannot calm down, And its waters keep tossing up seaweed and mire. There is no peace,” says my God, “for the wicked.”" Isa. 57:13-21. *** "To the king of Judah (Josiah) who sent you to inquire of Jehovah, this is what you should say to him, “This is what Jehovah the God of Israel says: ‘Regarding the words that you have heard, because your heart was responsive and you humbled yourself before Jehovah on hearing what I have spoken against this place and its inhabitants— that they would become an object of horror and a curse— and you ripped your garments apart and wept before me, I also have heard you, declares Jehovah." 2 Kings 22:18, 19. *** "Hear the word of Jehovah, you who tremble at his word: “Your brothers who hate you and exclude you because of my name said, ‘May Jehovah be glorified!’ But He will appear and bring you joy, And they are the ones who will be put to shame.” There is a sound of uproar from the city, a sound from the temple! It is the sound of Jehovah repaying his enemies what they deserve. Before she went into labor, she gave birth. Before birth pangs came to her, she delivered a male child. Who has ever heard of such a thing? Who has seen such things? Will a land be brought to birth in one day? Or will a nation be born all at once? Yet, as soon as Zion went into labor, she gave birth to her sons. “Will I bring it to the point of birth and then not bring it forth?” says Jehovah. “Or would I cause the birth and then shut the womb?” says your God. Rejoice with Jerusalem and be joyful with her, all you who love her. Exult greatly with her, all you who are in mourning over her, For you will nurse and be fully satisfied from her breast of consolation, And you will drink deeply and find delight in the abundance of her glory. For this is what Jehovah says: “Here I am extending to her peace just like a rivers And the glory of nations like a flooding torrent. You will nurse and be carried on the hip, And you will be bounced on the knees. As a mother comforts her son, So I will keep comforting you; And over Jerusalem you will be comforted. You will see this, and your heart will rejoice, Your bones will flourish just like new grass. And the hand* (Or “power.”) of Jehovah will become known to his servants, But he will denounce his enemies.” “For Jehovah will come as a fire, And his chariots are like a storm wind, To repay in furious anger, To rebuke with flames of fire. For with fire Jehovah will execute judgment, Yes, with his sword, against all flesh;* (Or “all humans.”) And the slain of Jehovah will be many." Isa. 66:5-16. *** So, "you who suffer tribulation will be given relief along with us at the revelation of the Lord Jesus from heaven with his powerful angels in a flaming fire, as he brings vengeance on those who do not know God and those who do not obey the good news about our Lord Jesus." 2 Thess. 1:7, 8. *** "The one who exercises faith in the Son has everlasting life; the one who disobeys the Son will not see life, but the wrath of God remains upon him." John 3:36. *** "And I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the former heaven and the former earth had passed away, and the sea is no more." Rev. 21:1. Because, "the wicked are like the restless sea that cannot calm down, And its waters keep tossing up seaweed and mire." Isa. 57:20. Yes: "As for the wicked, they will be cut off from the earth, And the treacherous will be torn away from it." Prov. 2:22. "For only the upright will reside in the earth, And the blameless* (Or “the one who keeps integrity.”) will remain in it." Prov. 2:21. "The righteous will possess the earth, And they will live forever on it." Ps. 37:29. Yes: "The memory of the righteous one is due for a blessing, But the name of the wicked will rot." Prov. 10:7. For: "The sinners will vanish from the earth, And the wicked will no longer exist. Let me praise Jehovah. Praise Jah!" Ps. 104:35.KEEP ON THE WATCH! Political Violence—⁠What Does the Bible Say? A wave of political violence is sweeping the world. https://www.jw.org/finder?wtlocale=E&pub=mrt&srcid=share Photo credit: https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.timesofisrael.com%2Fin-jerusalems-old-city-conflict-means-buyer-and-seller-beware%2F&psig=AOvVaw0Ksx-2uG_GXx34V-p_Z6y4&ust=1721577625284000&source=images&cd=vfe&opi=89978449&ved=0CBEQjRxqFwoTCLCN0Mj-tYcDFQAAAAAdAAAAABAj © 42 mins ago, Lucretia McCloud   society • sad • teen • spiritual • hope • love

[ohlookanothercartoontofallinto]

Did someone say Renegade Winds Spirit and Phantom (Phanny)??? No I could have sworn.

Anyways, imagine your in love with the smart dork superhero, but every single time you try to talk about him, everyone around you talks about how good of a couple he and your older sister would be. That's the life our dear Phanny lives. Hopefully one day he will notice her feelings for him.

[thelorehold]

The Khan's White Stallion: Whispers on the Steppe Wind

Objective: Recover a stolen white stallion, a legendary symbol of the Khan's authority, from a band of renegade warriors before a brewing war engulfs the steppe.

Quest Giver: Batbayar, a weathered nomad scout with a falcon perched on his gloved arm and a quiver full of arrows slung across his back. He speaks in a gruff yet respectful tone, his weathered face etched with worry.

Details:

A harsh wind whips across the vast steppe, carrying whispers of unrest. The party encounters Batbayar, a scout for the Khan's elite guard, the Ger Falcon Riders. He reveals a grave situation - the Khan's prized white stallion, a magnificent creature said to embody the Khan's divine right to rule, has been stolen by a band of renegade warriors known as the Wolf Riders.

Without the stallion, the Khan's legitimacy is questioned, and neighboring tribes sense weakness. Tensions rise, and the once fragile peace that holds the steppe together threatens to erupt into a devastating war. Batbayar pleads with the party to venture into the unforgiving wilderness, track down the Wolf Riders, and retrieve the stolen stallion before it's too late.

Reward:

The party earns the Khan's favor and the respect of the steppe nomads. They are showered with gifts of fine horses, exquisite furs, and rare weapons.

Batbayar offers them a place amongst the Ger Falcon Riders, granting them access to elite training, skilled companions, and the thrill of defending the steppe.

The Khan, in gratitude, reveals a hidden map leading to a secret cache of ancient artifacts, powerful magical items rumored to have belonged to past nomadic heroes.

Optional Hooks:

One of the party members possesses a remarkable skill with horses, perhaps a renowned rider or a skilled tracker with a knack for understanding animal behavior.

The party witnesses the growing unrest firsthand – skirmishes erupt between rival tribes, tensions rise in trading posts, and rumors of a brewing war spread like wildfire.

Whispers circulate about a hidden valley rumored to be the Wolf Riders' base. However, the treacherous path leading there is guarded by ferocious snow leopards and requires traversing treacherous mountain passes. The party may need to acquire the help of a skilled mountain guide or a shaman who can appease the spirits of the land.

[motorcyclegearsuperstore]

Men's Motorcycle Biker Leather Chaps

Men’s motorcycle biker leather chaps are a distinctive piece of gear in the biker’s wardrobe, offering a unique blend of protection and style that harks back to the rugged days of early motorcycle culture. Chaps cover the legs from the waist to the boots, providing an additional layer of protection that is especially valuable during long rides.

Leather chaps are designed primarily to protect the rider’s legs from road debris, wind, and the heat emitted by the motorcycle. They are made from durable leather, which acts as a shield against abrasions and minor impacts. This is crucial for riders, as the legs can be particularly vulnerable in the event of a slide or fall.

One of the most practical aspects of chaps is their ease of use. They can be quickly put on over jeans or other pants, making them a convenient option for riders who need to adapt to changing weather conditions or simply want an extra layer of protection without the commitment of wearing full leather pants throughout a ride. This adaptability makes chaps an ideal choice for riders who take long trips where conditions may vary along the way.

Chaps typically fasten around the waist and feature a buckle and adjustable lacing system that ensures a secure and customizable fit. They are open at the back, which allows for air circulation, making them less stifling than full pants and more suitable for riding in warmer weather.

From an aesthetic standpoint, chaps reinforce the iconic biker image. They add an element of traditional ruggedness to the rider’s look, echoing the style of American cowboys and the renegade spirit of classic bikers. Whether adorned with metallic studs, fringes, or simple, clean lines, chaps enhance the overall presence of a biker, making a bold statement about their commitment to the lifestyle.

Moreover, chaps are not only about appearance and protection; they also offer practical functionality. Many designs include deep pockets for storing essentials like wallets, keys, and phones, which adds convenience for the rider.

In the biker community, wearing chaps is a sign of a seasoned rider who values tradition and takes their protection seriously. It’s a nod to the heritage of motorcycling, representing a practical approach to riding that prioritizes safety without sacrificing style.

In summary, men’s motorcycle biker leather chaps are more than just protective gear; they are a symbol of the biker’s enduring spirit and commitment to the road. They provide essential protection while enhancing the rider's image, making them a valued addition to the motorcycle attire.

[grandhotelabyss]

I have the old-fashioned idea that completeness is a criterion of literary greatness. Melville’s tonal, emotional, and ideological range is greater in Moby-Dick than McCarthy’s in Blood Meridian. Melville can certainly do McCarthy:

As they narrated to each other their unholy adventures, their tales of terror told in words of mirth; as their uncivilized laughter forked upwards out of them, like the flames from the furnace; as to and fro, in their front, the harpooneers wildly gesticulated with their huge pronged forks and dippers; as the wind howled on, and the sea leaped, and the ship groaned and dived, and yet steadfastly shot her red hell further and further into the blackness of the sea and the night, and scornfully champed the white bone in her mouth, and viciously spat round her on all sides; then the rushing Pequod, freighted with savages, and laden with fire, and burning a corpse, and plunging into that blackness of darkness, seemed the material counterpart of her monomaniac commander’s soul.

But he can also do slapstick and irony, tenderness and lyrical poignance, exuberance and public rhetoric. “We saw young Leviathan amours in the deep.” Or:

If, then, to meanest mariners, and renegades and castaways, I shall hereafter ascribe high qualities, though dark; weave round them tragic graces; if even the most mournful, perchance the most abased, among them all, shall at times lift himself to the exalted mounts; if I shall touch that workman’s arm with some ethereal light; if I shall spread a rainbow over his disastrous set of sun; then against all mortal critics bear me out in it, thou just Spirit of Equality, which hast spread one royal mantle of humanity over all my kind! Bear me out in it, thou great democratic God! who didst not refuse to the swart convict, Bunyan, the pale, poetic pearl; Thou who didst clothe with doubly hammered leaves of finest gold, the stumped and paupered arm of old Cervantes; Thou who didst pick up Andrew Jackson from the pebbles; who didst hurl him upon a war-horse; who didst thunder him higher than a throne! Thou who, in all Thy mighty, earthly marchings, ever cullest Thy selectest champions from the kingly commons; bear me out in it, O God!

Blood Meridian has, like Poe’s stories, a single effect. Moby-Dick can’t sustain a single effect on a single page. I’m aware that by this standard Blood Meridian may not even be McCarthy’s best book, having to yield the laurel on one side or the other to Suttree or All the Pretty Horses.

[renegade-valley]

tag dump!