#the new books counterattack

[pearlyboi-ofthenight]

The New Book's Counterattack

[withbriefthanksgiving]

The director of the New York Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights of the UN (UN OHCHR), Craig Mokhiber, has resigned in a letter dated 28 October 2023

the resignation letter can be found embedded in this tweet by Rami Atari (@.Raminho) dated 31 October 2023.

The letters are here:

Transcription:

United Nations | Nations Unies

HEADQUARTERS I SIEGE I NEW YORK, NY 10017

28 October 2023

Dear High Commissioner,

This will be my last official communication to you as Director of the New York Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights.

I write at a moment of great anguish for the world, including for many of our colleagues. Once again, we are seeing a genocide unfolding before our eyes, and the Organization that we serve appears powerless to stop it. As someone who has investigated human rights in Palestine since the 1980s, lived in Gaza as a UN human rights advisor in the 1990s, and carried out several human rights missions to the country before and since, this is deeply personal to me.

I also worked in these halls through the genocides against the Tutsis, Bosnian Muslims, the Yazidi, and the Rohingya. In each case, when the dust settled on the horrors that had been perpetrated against defenseless civilian populations, it became painfully clear that we had failed in our duty to meet the imperatives of prevention of mass atrocites, of protection of the vulnerable, and of accountability for perpetrators. And so it has been with successive waves of murder and persecution against the Palestinians throughout the entire life of the UN.

High Commissioner, we are failing again.

As a human rights lawyer with more than three decades of experience in the field, I know well that the concept of genocide has often been subject to political abuse. But the current wholesale slaughter of the Palestinian people, rooted in an ethno-nationalist settler colonial ideology, in continuation of decades of their systematic persecution and purging, based entirely upon their status as Arabs, and coupled with explicit statements of intent by leaders in the Israeli government and military, leaves no room for doubt or debate. In Gaza, civilian homes, schools, churches, mosques, and medical institutions are wantonly attacked as thousands of civilians are massacred. In the West Bank, including occupied Jerusalem, homes are seized and reassigned based entirely on race, and violent settler pogroms are accompanied by Israeli military units. Across the land, Apartheid rules.

This is a text-book case of genocide. The European, ethno-nationalist, settler colonial project in Palestine has entered its final phase, toward the expedited destruction of the last remnants of indigenous Palestinian life in Palestine. What's more, the governments of the United States, the United Kingdom, and much of Europe, are wholly complicit in the horrific assault. Not only are these governments refusing to meet their treaty obligations "to ensure respect" for the Geneva Conventions, but they are in fact actively arming the assault, providing economic and intelligence support, and giving political and diplomatic cover for Israel's atrocities.

Volker Turk, High Commissioner for Human Rights Palais Wilson, Geneva

In concert with this, western corporate media, increasingly captured and state-adjacent, are in open breach of Article 20 of the ICCPR, continuously dehumanizing Palestinians to facilitate the genocide, and broadcasting propaganda for war and advocacy of national, racial, or religious hatred that constitutes incitement to discrimination, hostility, and violence. US-based social media companies are suppressing the voices of human rights defenders while amplifying pro-Israel propaganda. Israel lobby online-trolls and GONGOS are harassing and smearing human rights defenders, and western universities and employers are collaborating with them to punish those who dare to speak out against the atrocities. In the wake of this genocide, there must be an accounting for these actors as well, just as there was for radio Mules Collins in Rwanda.

In such circumstances, the demands on our organization for principled and effective action are greater than ever. But we phave not met the challenge. The protective enforcement power Security Council has again been blocked by US intransigence, the SG [UN Secretary General] is under assault for the mildest of protestations, and our human rights mechanisms are under sustained slanderous attack by an organized, online impunity network.

Decades of distraction by the illusory and largely disingenuous promises of Oslo have diverted the Organization from its core duty to defend international law, international human rights, and the Charter itself. The mantra of the "two-state solution" has become an open joke in the corridors of the UN, both for its utter impossibility in fact, and for its total failure to account for the inalienable human rights of the Palestinian people. The so-called "Quartet" has become nothing more than a fig leaf for inaction and for subservience to a brutal status quo. The (US-scripted) deference to "agreements between the parties themselves" (in place of international law) was always a transparent slight-of-hand, designed to reinforce the power of Israel over the rights of the occupied and dispossessed Palestinians.

High Commissioner, I came to this Organization first in the 1980s, because I found in it a principled, norm-based institution that was squarely on the side of human rights, including in cases where the powerful US, UK, and Europe were not on our side. While my own government, its subsidiarity institutions, and much of the US media were still supporting or justifying South African apartheid, Israeli oppression, and Central American death squads, the UN was standing up for the oppressed peoples of those lands. We had international law on our side. We had human rights on our side. We had principle on our side. Our authority was rooted in our integrity. But no more.

In recent decades, key parts of the UN have surrendered to the power of the US, and to fear of the Israel Lobby, to abandon these principles, and to retreat from international law itself. We have lost a lot in this abandonment, not least our own global credibility. But the Palestinian people have sustained the biggest losses as a result of our failures. It is a stunning historic irony that the Universal Declaration of Human Rights was adopted in the same year that the Nakba was perpetrated against the Palestinian people. As we commemorate the 75th Anniversary of the UDHR, we would do well to abandon the old cliché that the UDHR was born out of the atrocities that proceeded it, and to admit that it was born alongside one of the most atrocious genocides of the 20th Century, that of the destruction of Palestine. In some sense, the framers were promising human rights to everyone, except the Palestinian people. And let us remember as well, that the UN itself carries the original sin of helping to facilitate the dispossession of the Palestinian people by ratifying the European settler colonial project that seized Palestinian land and turned it over to the colonists. We have much for which to atone.

But the path to atonement is clear. We have much to learn from the principled stance taken in cities around the world in recent days, as masses of people stand up against the genocide, even at risk of beatings and arrest. Palestinians and their allies, human rights defenders of every stripe, Christian and Muslim organizations, and progressive Jewish voices saying "not in our name", are all leading the way. All we have to do is to follow them.

Yesterday, just a few blocks from here, New York's Grand Central Station was completely taken over by thousands of Jewish human rights defenders standing in solidarity with the Palestinian people and demanding an end to Israeli tyranny (many risking arrest, in the process). In doing so, they stripped away in an instant the Israeli hasbara propaganda point (and old antisemitic trope) that Israel somehow represents the Jewish people. It does not. And, as such, Israel is solely responsible for its crimes. On this point, it bears repeating, in spite of Israel lobby smears to the contrary, that criticism of Israel's human rights violations is not antisemitic, any more than criticism of Saudi violations is Islamophobic, criticism of Myanmar violations is anti-Buddhist, or criticism of Indian violations is anti-Hindu. When they seek to silence us with smears, we must raise our voice, not lower it. I trust you will agree, High Commissioner, that this is what speaking truth to power is all about.

But I also find hope in those parts of the UN that have refused to compromise the Organization's human rights principles in spite of enormous pressures to do so. Our independent special rapporteurs, commissions of enquiry, and treaty body experts, alongside most of our staff, have continued to stand up for the human rights of the Palestinian people, even as other parts of the UN (even at the highest levels) have shamefully bowed their heads to power. As the custodians of the human rights norms and standards, OHCHR. has a particular duty to defend those standards. Our job, I believe, is to make our voice heard, from the Secretary-General to the newest UN recruit, and horizontally across the wider UN system, incisting that the human rights of the Palestinian people are not up for debate, negotiation, or compromise anywhere under the blue flag.

What, then, would a UN-norm-based position look like? For what would we work if we were true to our rhetorical admonitions about human rights and equality for all, accountability for perpetrators, redress for victims, protection of the vulnerable, and empowerment for rights-holders, all under the rule of law? The answer, I believe, is simple—if we have the clarity to see beyond the propagandistic smokescreens that distort the vision of justice to which we are sworn, the courage to abandon fear and deference to powerful states, and the will to truly take up the banner of human rights and peace. To be sure, this is a long-term project and a steep climb. But we must begin now or surrender to unspeakable horror. I see ten essential points:

Legitimate action: First, we in the UN must abandon the failed (and largely disingenuous) Oslo paradigm, its illusory two-state solution, its impotent and complicit Quartet, and its subjugation of international law to the dictates of presumed political expediency. Our positions must be unapologetically based on international human rights and international law.

Clarity of Vision: We must stop the pretense that this is simply a conflict over land or religion between two warring parties and admit the reality of the situation in which a disproportionately powerful state is colonizing, persecuting, and dispossessing an indigenous population on the basis of their ethnicity.

One State based on human rights: We must support the establishment of a single, democratic, secular state in all of historic Palestine, with equal rights for Christians, Muslims, and Jews, and, therefore, the dicmantling of the deeply racist, settler-colonial project and an end to apartheid across the land.

Fighting Apartheid: We must redirect all UN efforts and resources to the struggle against apartheid, just as we did for South Africa in the 1970s, 80s, and early 90s.

Return and Compensation: We must reaffirm and insist on the right to return and full compensation for all Palestinians and their families currently living in the occupied territories, in Lebanon, Jordan, Syria, and in the diaspora across the globe.

Truth and Justice: We must call for a transitional justice process, making full use of decades of accumulated UN investigations, enquiries, and reports, to document the truth, and to ensure accountability for all perpetrators, redress for all victims, and remedies for documented injustices.

Protection: We must press for the deployment of a well-resourced and strongly mandated UN protection force with a sustained mandate to protect civilians from the river to the sea.

Disarmament: We must advocate for the removal and destruction of Israel's massive stockpiles of nuclear, chemical, and biological weapons, lest the conflict lead to the total destruction of the region and, possibly, beyond.

Mediation: We must recognize that the US and other western powers are in fact not credible mediators, but rather actual parties to the conflict who are complicit with Israel in the violation of Palestinian rights, and we must engage them as such.

Solidarity: We must open our doors (and the doors of the SG) wide to the legions of Palestinian, Israeli, Jewish, Muslim, and Christian human rights defenders who are standing in solidarity with the people of Palestine and their human rights and stop the unconstrained flow of Israel lobbyists to the offices of UN leaders, where they advocate for continued war, persecution, apartheid, and impunity, and smear our human rights defenders for their principled defense of Palestinian rights.

This will take years to achieve, and western powers will fight us every step of the way, so we must be steadfast. In the immediate term, we must work for an immediate ceasefire and an end to the longstanding siege on Gaza, stand up against the ethnic cleansing of Gaza, Jerusalem, and the West Bank (and elsewhere), document the genocidal assault in Gaza, help to bring massive humanitarian aid and reconstruction to the Palestinians, take care of our traumatized colleagues and their families, and fight like hell for a principled approach in the UN's political offices.

The UN's failure in Palestine thus far is not a reason for us to withdraw. Rather it should give us the courage to abandon the failed paradigm of the past, and fully embrace a more principled course. Let us, as OHCHR, boldly and proudly join the anti-apartheid movement that is growing all around the world, adding our logo to the banner of equality and human rights for the Palestinian people. The world is watching. We will all be accountable for where we stood at this crucial moment in history. Let us stand on the side of justice.

I thank you, High Commissioner, Volker, for hearing this final appeal from my desk. I will leave the Office in a few days for the last time, after more than three decades of service. But please do not hesitate to reach out if I can be of assistance in the future.

Sincerely,

Craig Mokhiber

End of transcription.

Emphasis (bolding) is my own. I have added links, where relevant, to explanations of concepts the former Director refers to.

[bumblesimagines]

When Fire Meets Fate

Part 14

Request: Yes or No

Summary: After a failed assassination attempt, (Y/N)'s thoughts become filled with reminders of his family on the opposing side.

CW/TW: Typical Got/HOTD warnings, violence, Ser Erryk's death, not-so-subtle period typical sexism, Ser Alfred and Lord Celtigar are their own warnings at this point

someone get this man a ticket to the summer isles asap

~~~

His hobbies became less enjoyable with each passing day. His eyes skimmed the words on the page, reading them, but his mind could not process them due to the turmoil within. The days of devouring books, reading hundreds or more pages were gone, halted by the war seeping through the cracks of barely contained peace.

(Y/N) thought of his niece's son, and couldn't help but wonder what his sister thought of it all. Did she despise them, despise him? Did she believe them free of guilt or had her futile hope died when the sword sliced through her grandson's throat? 

He squeezed his eyes shut at the image, unable to think of the child without thinking of his own toddlers. With the death of Jaehaerys still fresh, everyone remained on high alert for a counterattack or another enemy taking advantage of the unsteady Realm by sowing more mayhem. Many'd chosen to remain neutral, some such as House Tyrell and House Greyjoy, but neither house seemed like the type to send assassins to kill children in their beds. Lord Tyrell was a mere boy whose mother ruled as regent and the Red Kraken faced his enemies head-on. 

A quiet sigh brought his attention to Elinda as the handmaiden followed Rhaenyra to finish braiding her hair, only for his wife to walk forward again, too lost in her mind to give Elinda enough time. (Y/N) closed his book and set it aside, a trickle of amusement pouring in when he took in Elinda's twisted lips. Rhaenyra stared toward the window, her hands tightly clutched and her brows fixed into a near-permanent furrow. Worry had never been a good look on her. 

"Nyra," He spoke, snapping her out of her distant trance. "Allow Elinda to finish working."

"Ah," Rhaenyra glanced over her shoulder at the brunette before snapping her head forward sheepishly, the skin along her cheeks gaining a soft pink color. Elinda, in all her patience, simply smiled and resumed working swiftly, her fingers moving automatically from the countless times she'd helped do Rhaenyra's hair. "My apologies."

"It is quite alright, Your Grace. Please try and lay down; it has been a weary day." Elinda spoke softly, finally finishing the long braid and resting it along Rhaenyra's back. 

With a sigh of agreement, (Y/N) twisted around to tug down the pillows resting against the wooden headboard before he leaned back into them and sunk into their soft cushion. Rhaenyra joined him soon after, tucking her legs beside his underneath the covers and fluffing up the pillows with the heel of her palms. Elinda watched them solemnly as she placed empty teacups onto a tray and approached the bed with a sympathetic frown. 

"You must sleep tonight," She told them gently, "Let me ask the maester for some draught." 

Rhaenyra exhaled heavily through her nose, her body naturally curling into his side once she placed her head on his chest. "Perhaps that would be best." She murmured and draped her arm across his stomach. His fingers crept up her back until his palm settled on the curve of her hip. "Thank you, Elinda."

"Of course."

Elinda crossed the room to continue tidying up, but her work was cut short when the door opened and a familiar man stepped inside. Immediately, the couple sat up in their bed with near-bated breath at whatever news he could possibly be bringing them at such an hour. Even Elinda straightened up, the calm of her features disappearing into worry. 

When the knight remained quiet as he stepped further into the room, Rhaenyra's brows furrowed. "Ser Erryk?"

The sound of a sword unsheathing echoed coldly through the room and dread settled uncomfortably in (Y/N)'s stomach. "Believe me," he spoke through gritted teeth, "I had no choice."

"Brother!" An angered shout followed the door being thrust open by a copy of the man already standing in their bedchambers. Ser Erryk and Ser Arryk, (Y/N) quickly realized, but who was who? (Y/N)'s arm shot out in front of Rhaenyra, his body scooting forward whilst his arm pushed her behind him. Her quickened breath filled his ears and her nails dug through the thin fabric of his sleeve as she clutched at his arm. "Do not do this. I beg you."

The twin who'd entered their room, Arryk, spoke heatedly but the slight tremble in his hand when he pointed his sword at his brother spoke for his true thoughts. "You are the one who betrayed us, Erryk,"

The two knights continued facing each other, one pushing forward and the other stepping back tentatively, the hesitation in their limbs keeping them separate until Arryk suddenly lunged toward the bed with a cry and his sword raised high. Rhaenyra yelped in surprise, her hands tugging and dragging her husband along with her as she scrambled backward until the two were pressed up along the headboard but thankfully, Erryk sprang into action immediately, blocking the swing of his brother's sword. Elinda dropped the tray onto the nearest table and ducked down behind it, her widened eyes jumping frantically between the couple and the brothers. 

"Elinda, go!" Rhaenyra called to the panicked handmaiden, her voice mixing with the frequent clashing of metal against metal. "Run and find Ser Lorent!"

Hurriedly nodding, Elinda scooped fistfuls of her dress into her hands and raced toward the open door where she disappeared into the hallway. The knights took a moment apart, their chests heaving and features concentrated, but (Y/N) caught the flicker of relief on one of their faces when Elinda's footsteps became distant. Ser Erryk.

"Come," He breathed to his wife, reaching around behind him to grasp her arm and pull her as he scrambled toward the edge of the bed where Erryk stood closest. The knight glanced over his shoulder and followed their movements, using his body as a shield when Arryk swung again. 

"(Y/N)," Rhaenyra whispered shakily, pressing herself against the stone collum and wincing with each clash of swords. 

When Erryk's leg was struck, (Y/N) took her wrist and ran, the clanking of metal that followed them making his throat tighten. Rhaenyra cried out when she tripped on the ends of her nightgown, forcing (Y/N) to stop and duck down toward her as Arryk's body tumbled forward and onto a vase with a shove from Erryk. He wrapped his arms around her swiftly and cradled her whimpering form close to his chest, heavy and quick pants leaving him whilst he watched the brothers swing at each other.

"Your Grace, My Lord!" Ser Lorent appeared, rushing down the steps leading further into their bedchambers and waiting for the knights to move away before he raced forward to them. "With me!" He ordered, one arm behind them to guide them toward the other door and the other arm keeping his sword trained on the two for any sudden movements toward them.

Wiggling on the doorknob, (Y/N) cursed in frustration when it wouldn't turn, the adrenaline flowing through his veins beginning to give way to panic fueled by Rhaenyra's whimpers and watery eyes. The knights had tangled themselves together, concentrating their fight on each other but with their features and injuries, (Y/N) could no longer tell who was who. They only watched hopelessly as one began strangling the other.

"We were born together," One wheezed, voice strained from the hands clamped around his throat. (Y/N)'s hand tightened on the doorknob, finding his eyes unable to tear themselves away from the sight and words spoken. Alicent, Alicent, Alicent. His sister, his twin, the other half of his soul and body. Had she known of this? No.. not even their father would think of such a thing... would he? 

"You parted us!" The other wailed through blood and tears, his body trembling from exhaustion and grief. Aching familiarity flooded (Y/N)'s chest and filled his eyes with salty, warm tears. "But I still love you, brother."

The one pinned between the floor and the wall dug his fingers into a cut on the other's leg, prompting a pained cry as he toppled over onto the floor. He dragged himself toward a tossed-aside sword on the floor as the other did similar. They stood up, faced each other, and charged, but instead of the dreaded clanging, (Y/N) heard the horrifying noise of cloth and flesh being torn into.

They held onto each other, stumbling and staggering through sobs.. until the dead weight of one forced the other to finally step back. The remaining twin panted heavily, his tears mixing with sweat and blood whilst he stared at the corpse of his brother. 

"Your Grace, My Lord," He exhaled heavily when he faced them on unsteady feet and quivering lips. He turned his sword onto himself, shoulders slumping with exhaustion as soft sniffling left him. "Forgive me."

(Y/N) blinked. "Erryk-"

His words caught in his throat as Erryk collapsed down onto his sword, impaling his midsection and covering the floor with blood. (Y/N) turned Rhaenyra toward him instinctively, wrapping his arms around her and tucking her head into his neck. The late guards that'd stormed the room at the last second stared aghast at the bodies, both men familiar but only one had been loyal to their cause.

His eyes roamed down to the floor, meeting the blank blue eyes of Erryk. Was this how he and his twin would reunite? Forced to look upon the body of the other in the end, with no way of reversing time and doing it right? 

(Y/N) squeezed his eyes shut. When had been the last time he'd told Alicent he loved her?

"He is the basest of villains." Jace's voice held barely restrained anger in it, an emotion his son had grown so used to throughout his childhood. Always the storm, the spitfire, the one who lost his temper with mere words or looks. (Y/N) felt exhausted, too tired to deal with a son that reminded him so much of his younger self but when a hint of irritation flared in his belly, he remembered the wide-eyed, teary look on Jace's face upon seeing them alive and without injury before he'd rushed into their arms like a frightened child. "He sullies his brother's grave."

"They formed together in the womb, Jace." (Y/N) muttered, feeling the dirt escape between his fingers and onto the knights below. They said the dead often looked as if they were sleeping, but not even the Silent Sisters could hide the look of death on their faces; olive skin was now ghostly pale, and once pink lips a purplish tint. "They were born together, they died together. They were halves and now they're whole again. Leave them be." 

"We cannot fault him for keeping his oath," Rhaenyra added softly, tiredly, mimicking her husband and releasing the dirt clutched in her hands onto the bodies below. Grief had become a numbed feeling, one circling their minds but too muddled with exhaustion and muted anger to take them fully into its clutches once more. 

(Y/N) stepped away from the grave, unable to stand the sight of watching dirt slowly cover the twins any longer. He'd hardly slept, and the few moments of sleep had been filled with dreadful nightmares of what would come of him and his family. His uncle would send knights and soldiers out to help King's Landing, many among them being his blood. Gwayne came to mind specifically, his older brother with a level head on his shoulders but an eager desire to please their father.

The smallfolk and soldiers were always the first to die in conflict; it made him wonder if he'd ever see his brother again with eyes full of life.

"Father," Jace caught up with him, his curls bouncing and reminding him of Alicent in her youth when her curls had begun having some definition. He made a face and the tip of his ears turned a light red. "Apologies. My Lord." He corrected himself, eyes darting toward the knights and servants escorting them back to the safety of the castle. He was a little boy no longer but he thought himself too grown.

"What is it, Jace?" (Y/N) turned to him, studying the side of his son's face and being unable to stop himself from picking out the traits that reminded him of his family; a mesh of his mother and siblings' faces stared back at him whenever he gazed at Jace, from the curls of his hair to the slope of his nose. 

"Is it not..." Jace trailed off, the tip of his tongue swiping over his lips. "Is it not unjust to bury Ser Erryk alongside the man who attempted to kill him, who attempted to kill you and Her Grace? It's despicable what he did, what he chose to do. And... for Ser Erryk to..." 

Exhaling softly, (Y/N) looked forward. "Siblings are siblings but.. it's different with twins, Jace. You are born together, they are the first face you meet.. you are one soul, one heart, almost one body. I remember the pain of losing Corren, one of my older brothers. I can only imagine that very pain would be intensified tenfold if I were to hear of Alicent's passing."

"She is a traitor." Jace scoffed. "She placed the usurper on the throne. She wanted Princess Rhaenys to bend the knee to him. She-"

"Is still my sister." (Y/N) interrupted softly. "Just as Ser Arryk, traitor or not, was still Ser Erryk's brother. You may not understand as your brothers are too young to yet inflict any sort of betrayal... but it's complicated. There may be hate and grief and frustration but the love will linger.. the hope. You'll understand, someday." 

Jace frowned at that, jaw tightening. "I'm not a child to be coddled-"

"You will always be a child, Jace, to us." (Y/N) told him, a hint of a dry chuckle following. His gaze drifted toward the woman standing on a balcony, watching them with curious eyes. Their savior; the woman who'd alerted the guards of Ser Arryk's trickery. "You will always be the boy with round cheeks, gentle waves, and a penchant for trouble. Now, head inside and check on your brothers."

His hand grazed Jace's shoulder before he parted from his son, making his way up the cobbled steps where Lady Mysaria waited, her hands intertwined before her and the hint of a smile on her lips. Truthfully, (Y/N) had expected her to depart after giving her warning as some sort of way of evening out the field. They'd kept Daemon's promise and in return, she'd helped them. Yet, there she stood, gazing thoughtfully at him before the echoing shrill of Seasmoke brought their attention out to where the dragon flew. He'd grown restless in recent times, dancing in the sky after his flights and filling the air with his cries. 

"They are... curious creatures." Lady Mysaria spoke, seemingly captivated by Seasmoke. He hardly blamed her. He himself saw the dragons in fleeting moments, sometimes even allowing Rhaenyra to convince him to join her on a flight or two with Syrax. For the smallfolk, seeing a dragon close must've been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Seasmoke was a beauty with his pale silver skin but frightening in his bursts of irritation. He loved Laenor as much as a dragon could, (Y/N) knew that much. "Have you ridden one?"

(Y/N) nodded. "Before the youngest arrived, yes. Rhaenyra enjoys taking to the skies and she enjoys sharing her hobbies. I would not say it's a favored pastime of mine." His words drew a quiet laugh from her. 

Footsteps filled his ears and he glanced over his shoulder, his arm immediately extending toward his wife to coil around her waist. Rhaenyra gave a quiet sigh and leaned into his side, fingertips brushing away a loose strand of silver hair. She appeared conflicted at first but she wiped the look off her face to address Lady Mysaria with a polite smile, eyes briefly flickering to the dragon in the distance. 

"We were told you turned back from your ship to bring warning." 

"I was not believed at first." Lady Mysaria stated, her head remaining forward but her eyes flickered toward them, obversing and waiting. The sea breeze ruffled back her raven locks, and she turned to look at them. "What is the life of a queen worth these days?"

"You wish to be rewarded." Rhaenyra mused, withholding a heavy sigh.

A hint of a smile graced Lady Mysaria's lips, playful in a way but not mocking. "As I would think you would wish to reward me." She said, her brows briefly lifting and voice nearly drowned out by another cry from Seasmoke. (Y/N)'s attention darted between the two, trying to focus on the woman before them, the woman he now owed his life to, and the dragon that'd once belonged to his close friend. 

"What price would you set?" Rhaenyra questioned, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her voice tight and guarded, slightly worried. Maybe even paranoid. Now were hardly the times to owe anyone anything, not with war rearing its ugly head and castles being so easily breached. His fingers danced the curve along her side, tips pressing against the rough texture of her dress to ease her nerves. She exhaled through her nose and spared him a glance, but it did little to cease the way she toyed with her fingers. 

"A place.. at your court." Lady Mysaria revealed, dark eyes watching them closely. 

"You wished to free yourself from the webs of court, and yet now wish to find yourself a place in it?" (Y/N)'s brows dipped inward, perplexed. The castle had been breached by a knight with the sole goal of slaughtering a queen and he'd nearly succeded. Anyone else would've collected their things and raced for the next ship away from the Crownslands, away from the infighting. Lady Mysaria's shoulder lifted with a half-shrug. 

"And you let me go. You showed me grace when you could have withheld it. I'm not often surprised." She said gently, a shadow briefly casting over them when Seasmoke flew in front of the sun. "I know the workings of the Red Keep and the movements of those who serve there. That is worth more than gold to you now."

Rhaenyra's lips pursed, eyes squinting when she spared Seasmoke a glance at his call. "What is our worth to you?"

"I would punish the Hightower for what they have done, to me and those who served me. But more than that, I know the struggles of the smallfolk of King's Landing. They will be ruled, either by you or by the usurper. And only one of you has shown yourself to be merciful."

"Well, I hope you do not confuse mercy with pliancy." 

Another shriek, one much closer, interrupted the beat of silence that passed over them after Rhaenyra spoke. It almost seemed purposeful, urgent. (Y/N) watched Seasmoke's distant figure twist in the sky and dip downward toward the water, skimming it briefly before rising again. His flying seemed purposeless; no hunting, no playing, seemingly no enjoyment coming from it. Was it the equivalent of pacing? Or an attempt at communication without his rider to decipher it for them? (Y/N) frowned. Could it be...

"Seasmoke, my late lord-husband's dragon. He's grown restless as of late." Rhaenyea turned away from the sight and gave another tight yet polite smile, her hand rising to touch her husband's back briefly, signaling to him their departure. "We can not know why."

"Maybe he's lonely." Lady Mysaria said, and Rhaenyra halted, eyes darting back to her before turning to her husband. 

Their departure from the balcony was quiet, with Lady Mysaria staring after them until she resumed her watch of Seasmoke. Rhaenyra stared forward whilst they walked down the hallway, her lips twitching into the beginning of a frown and brows furrowing. They had news for Rhaena but (Y/N)'s mind remained consumed with other things. Dragons and their riders were bonded, united as one in more ways than one; rumors and speculations the bond was emotional, possibly even bound by souls. Syrax had grown restless during Rhaenyra's early labor, shrieking and roaring within the caves she and the others called home. It was enough to prove there was something there, some sort of connection... one that would be severed after death. 

His lips brushed over Rhaenyra's temple, his legs leading him in the opposite direction of their bedchambers. He needed more time with his children, now more than ever. His chest constricted with the beginning of grief.

They'd gone years without hearing a word from Laenor or his lover, as they'd agreed upon to avoid rousing suspicion, but Seasmoke's restlessness, his constant shrieks and cries... the chance it was his way of mourning was high. Lives were lost so easily, fragile things capable of breaking at any time and any place. And so far from home.

Rhaenys and Corlys had mourned their children for years and felt the turmoil of not having been there for Laena during her time of need. Lady Jane Arryn would take good care of the children but it hardly shook away the worries.

Could he survive losing another child, let alone one of the youngest? Could Rhaenyra? What would come of Jace if he lost Joffery, Viserys, or Aegon? His eldest son was already brash yet withheld his impulses, but (Y/N) knew the flush of youthful anger and arrogance all too well. It was all-consuming and dangerous. 

Council meetings were wearisome. How his father managed to attend each and every one for decades was a mystery to (Y/N), a mystery he thought about as he sat in his seat and listened to the droning of the other lords. In a fleeting desire, he desperately hoped once the waters calmed, he'd be able to do as other consorts did and stay far from the Small Council and its squabbling men.

"Still no sightings," Rhaenys announced as she strode into the room, peeling her gloves off as she approached her seat beside him. It'd been early afternoon when they'd heard of an army leaving the gates of King's Landing, its destination unknown and unclear thus far. "No men, no horses, no ships... no dragons." She gave a quiet sigh, tossing her gloves upon the table and sitting down. 

"Good. Then we must seize the hour and act before our enemy does. They have penetrated our castle walls and now the Riverlands are aflame after the Battle at the Burning Mill." Ser Alfred spoke, turning his attention onto Maester Gerardys expectantly. "How fares Prince Daemon with our army?"

Maester Gerardys grimaced. "There has been no word from Prince Daemon, Your Grace."

"Then we must press what advantage we do have."

"And what's that?" Lord Staunton questioned from beside Ser Alfred, eyeing him with a level of uncertainty (Y/N) could not fault him for.

"Dragons." Gods. "Send all of them out. Start turning Green strongholds to our cause and burn those who resist."

"No," Rhaenyra spoke up with a dismissive shake of her head, her fingers tightly wound together and lips slightly pursed. "If dragons begin fighting dragons, we invite our own destruction. Fear of it is in itself a weapon. The Greens will make the same calculation." 

Ser Alfred's dry laughter followed, mocking as if he were faced with a child rather than his ruler. "The value of a sword is not within its scabbard." 

"We will secure victory with armies, not with dragons alone. The Greens understand that." Rhaenyra swallowed, her jaw tight from Ser Alfred's attitude and chest falling with a deep exhale. "The Vale and the North will send men. We must give Daemon time."

"Your Grace," Lord Gormon Massey spoke next, shifting in his chair and leaning back into it as he looked toward her with a small sniffle. "You have witnessed firsthand just how vulnerable you are. Prince Daemon is abroad, Lord (Y/N) is more skilled with words than with swords, and Aegon's factions are enraged at the death of his son. You have never been so exposed!"

"Perhaps it is time for you to think about secreting yourself somewhere safe while we remain here as a source of distraction for the enemy." Lord Celtigar proposed, and (Y/N) couldn't help the laugh that tumbled free from his lips. The lords turned their attention swiftly onto him, brows furrowed at his amusement but (Y/N) simply arched a brow, eyes flickering between them all.

"You expect Her Grace to turn and cower away whilst you do what exactly? Appoint a regent in her stead? Play pretend as children do so that you may indulge in fantasies? Age has truly emboldened too many of you, made your tongues loose and brains hazy, it seems. You act as if you are speaking to your daughter, your sister, or wife. You speak too freely in the presence of the Queen." (Y/N) inhaled heavily and leaned forward, resting his elbows upon the table and studying them each. His tone remained icy, cold and distant whilst he addressed them to further watch them shift uncomfortably in their seats. "What do you think Her Grace's enemies would do if they caught wind of her.. 'secreting herself somewhere safe'? They would call her a coward, and what House would wish to follow a coward?" 

"My Lord, t-that is not what-"

"And what would you do, Ser Alfred, if we were to send all our dragons away to fight and left Dragonstone vulnerable? The riderless dragons may be prompted to attack, sure, but without riders, they have no loyalty. Dragonstone's inhabitants would be left to face the same fate as Harren the Black or the Harroways of Harrenhal." (Y/N) raised his brows at the man, turning away when he parted his mouth to speak and leaving him to clamp it shut.

"You sit here and act like children who've been gifted their very first sword whilst simultaneously disregarding the very reason we have dragons at our disposal. The rulers of the Targaryen Dynasty may have been men thus far but we have seen women rule before, or have you all forgotten of Dorne? It was Princess Meria Martell who led her people against the conquest and won. Perhaps, instead of opening your mouths, you should open a history book."

(Y/N) scoffed softly and stood from his seat, prompting the rest of the men to stand as well with their heads bowed. "Oh, and Lord Massey," (Y/N) watched the man swallow before he lifted his head to look at him. "Nearly all of my brothers are knights. I was taught how to fight in my youth. That I choose words is not a flaw, for someone else may have chosen to cut your tongue if they felt slighted." He turned away, moving to stand beside Rhaenyra as she too rose from her seat. 

Coiling her arm around his, Rhaenyra gave him a fleeting smile before looking over her council. "Let us not speak or entertain such an idea again. It'd be inconvenient amid a war to have to charge someone for treason, wouldn't it? If there is nothing else of value to inform us of, we shall take our leave."

[aishangotome]

Roger Barel: Chapter 5

Chapter 4 Premium Story

♡———♡

Following the "Robin Growth Map"...

I will become a strong woman under Roger's guidance and successfully complete one month as a Fairytale Keeper.

I will teach Roger about romantic feelings and prove the existence of love.

Perhaps because I was clear about what I had to do... I drank way too much.

-

(...This is... not my room?)

I looked around and found myself in a room surrounded by bookshelves on all sides, like a forest of books.

Kate: Oh, right, clothes...!

(Oh, good, I'm wearing them...)

I breathed a sigh of relief as the memories of last night came back to me.

Kate: ...Last night, I was drinking with Roger while eating.

Roger: Whoa... You bark a lot from morning on.

Kate: Oh, Roger...

Roger: Hmm? Judging by that face, you remember, don't you?

Yesterday, I was teased a lot at the tavern, and I feel like I'm used to this mean smile.

Kate: I was provoked by Roger, drank on my own, and collapsed. Then, I couldn't walk and came here... right?

Roger: That's right. You're really competitive, you know, you're so quick to take the bait.

Kate: Please don't provoke me again. ...And, I apologize for the trouble I caused you.

Roger smiled as if he had found a new toy while I apologized politely.

Roger: It's okay, I don't mind. I kissed you a lot as compensation.

Kate: Huh? Kiss!?

(I don't remember that!)

Roger: What I just said was the opposite of the opposite of the opposite of a lie.

Kate: The opposite of the opposite of a lie... Which is it!?

Roger: I don't know. Which one would you prefer?

Even though I'm used to this smile, it makes me sick if it's too much.

(Damn it!)

(I'm an adult, so from now on I'll drink at my own pace.)

Roger: ...............

I felt a smile creep into his eyes, and my heart beat a little as he looked at me while lying down.

(When Roger takes off his glasses, his face looks a little younger... and cute.)

But he just kept staring at me, and I was the one who got restless first.

Kate: ...What?

Roger: I was listening to the voices in the dining room.

Roger: Everyone is talking about the Robin Growth Map.

Kate: You heard the voices?

There's no way that's possible in a mansion as big as a castle.

Kate: There's no way you can hear the voices of everyone in the dining room from here.

Roger: Oh, I didn't tell you? Cursed people each have their own unique abilities.

Roger: My ability is "abnormal hearing." I can hear sounds from 100 yards away.

Kate: 100 yards!?

Considering that the rooms in the mansion aren't that far apart, even though the inside is spacious...

--CHOICES--

Up until now...?

Where is the privacy?

Roger's perversion!

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

Kate: Wait, so up until now...?

Roger: Don't worry, I can adjust what I hear and what I don't. You have no idea how much trouble it took me to master it.

Leaving aside Roger's struggles, I was relieved that not everything was overheard.

(Although, I'm not sure if I'm convinced by that...)

Kate: More importantly, how does everyone know about the growth map!?

Roger: I told them last night because it was interesting.

Roger: Everyone has high expectations for your growth, you have to work hard, okay?

(This guy~~!)

Kate: Geez, you're always doing whatever you want!

I couldn't help but playfully hit Roger as he lifted his lips into a smirk.

Roger: You should train your arms too. It only feels like a massage.

Kate: Ugh!

After that, all the pillows and cushions I threw at him were dodged, and my counterattack against Roger failed.

But--talking to Roger makes my heart feel a little lighter.

That's the one thing I definitely don't want him to know.

-

Roger: ...There, that finishes the stitches. I've never seen anyone get stabbed as much as you.

Jude: .............

Jude silently puts on his shirt after Roger finishes removing the stitches from the stab wound on his side.

Roger: But you're good at dodging, it's good that it was a relatively shallow wound.

Jude: Yer gonna take payment for the treatment again, aren't cha? Hurry up an' do it if yer gonna.

Blood collection... That's what Roger demanded from the members of the Crown as payment for treatment.

Jude: Why do ya care about that woman?

Roger: That woman? Oh, you mean Kate?

Jude: Yer a pervert who only thinks about research, and ya hate trouble.

Roger: I didn't intend to keep her around at first either. I'm not exactly short of women.

Roger smiles reminiscently as he inserts a needle into Jude's arm.

Roger: But, the way she looks forward and refuses to despair despite being depressed is endearing.

Roger: I don't hate that kind of attitude.

Jude: So that's why yer takin' care of her with the growth map an' all that. That's very kind of ya.

Roger: As long as people have clear goals, dreams... even small things to do, they can somehow manage to live.

Roger: That's true for you too, isn't it, Jude?

Jude: ...Ha. It's not that pretty. Shuddap, ya quack.

Roger: Yes, yes, you get angry easily, so it's easy to draw blood, which is helpful.

He pulls out the needle and slowly turns the blood-filled syringe.

Roger: Well, the biggest reason is that it's interesting to watch her. She reminds me of my dog.

Jude: The corgi tha' got its stomach dragged?

Roger: He's stupid but a genius. He made me a dog lover, you know.

Roger: Ah, I want to pet his fat belly again after so long.

Roger: It's so fluffy and plump... Ah, I miss him so much I'm even hearing hallucinations.

Jude: ................

Roger: Look, woof woof... Am I working too hard?

Kate: Um, Roger!

There was Kate, holding a corgi.

Roger: Oh, two dogs.

Jude: No, it's yer stupid dog an' the stupid storytella from yer house.

Roger: Ale!

Ale: Woof woof!

Kate: Ale?

Kate looks down at the corgi.

Roger: That corgi you're holding in your arms right now.

Roger: He's my dog, I named him "Ale" after the color of beer.

Roger: Ale, good boy. You're in great shape today as always, aren't you?

Ale: Woof woof!

Ale wags his little tail excitedly in Kate's arms.

Roger: So, why did you show up with Ale in your arms?

Kate: A while ago, a man who said he was Roger's father came here.

Kate: He said he was leaving England for a while for work and asked me to look after this little guy.

Kate: When I tried to ask his name, the man disappeared like the wind before I could even speak...

Roger: That's definitely my father.

Roger: He's a doctor and always busy running around.

Kate: Now that you mention it, I think he said he was keeping his patients waiting.

Kate chuckles and puts Ale down on the floor.

Ale runs over and puts his front paws on Roger's knees, sniffing at him with his nose.

Roger: He usually lives at the clinic back home.

Roger: When he has family business, he comes here to leave him with me.

Jude: Selfishness runs in the family, huh? Wha' kind of family is that?

Ale: Woof woof woof!

Jude: ...Hey, don' jump on me, yer hot.

Jude: You guys hold em properly. Yer the ones who took em in, aren't ya slackin' off?

Kate: Whoa, Jude, please hold him more gently.

Ale was returned to Kate's arms and nestled comfortably as if he was used to it.

Roger: For a while, Ale will be a member of the Crown too.

Roger: Oh, right, Kate. I was just about to call you.

Kate: ...? We don't have any missions today, do we?

Roger: Come on, follow me. You too, Ale.

Kate: Yes! | Ale: Woof!

Roger's laughter echoes at the simultaneous replies of one person and one dog.

Roger: ...Pfft, hahahaha! You two really are alike.

-

Kate: Roger, what is this...?

I changed into a simple blouse and a light skirt that showed my ankles as Roger told me to.

Roger: I'm going to teach you self-defense. The quickest way to get stronger is to train your body first.

If I'm going to accompany the Crown on missions, I have to be able to protect myself.

Kate: You were thinking about what I needed, thank you.

Roger: Of course. Physical strength is essential for the "Robin Growth Map."

Ellis: Let's do our best, Kate.

Kate: Yes! ...Wait, why is Ellis here?

I blinked, and Ellis was standing there before I knew it.

Ellis: I wanted to join in because my two favorite people were together.

Roger: That's perfect. Ellis is good at using his body, so he'll be a good role model.

Ellis: Nice to meet you, Kate.

Kate: Nice to meet you too!

Ellis smiles at me and pats Ale's head as he sits.

Ellis: Long time no see, Ale. Let's play a lot together.

Ale: Woof!

It seems that Ellis often takes care of Ale when he is left with Crown.

(Ellis is attached to Roger, isn't he?)

(Roger seems to be especially fond of him too... Hehe, they're like good brothers.)

Thus began Roger's self-defense lesson in a friendly atmosphere.

Roger: First, the basics of self-defense are to pay attention to your surroundings.

Roger: It's important to carefully observe your opponent and the situation, including their line of sight, hand position, and the location of walls and obstacles.

Roger: I'll show you once, so watch carefully, Kate.

Roger: Ellis, try to grab me from anywhere.

Ellis: Okay, here I go.

Ellis's long arms grab Roger's wrist with whip-like speed.

Roger: Kate, what do you think you should do in this situation?

Kate: I think I should create distance because it's dangerous to be close to the opponent.

Roger: Unfortunately, that's incorrect. In this case...

Roger takes a step closer to Ellis.

With a slight twist of his wrist, he easily escapes Ellis's grasp.

Ellis: Huh? When did you...?

Roger: Simply put, it's the principle of leverage. It's easier to move an object if you apply force further away from the fulcrum.

Roger: Furthermore, the closer the point of force application is to the fulcrum, the easier it is to apply force, so...

Ellis: ......?

Kate: ??

Roger: ...Well, let's skip this explanation for now.

Roger: Anyway, when you want to free your grabbed wrist, bring your elbow towards your opponent...

Roger: If you twist it like this, you can break free even with a small amount of force.

Roger calls me with his chin and grabs my wrist.

Roger: Try it.

Kate: Yes...!

At first, I struggled, but as I did it a few times, I got used to how to use my body...

Kate: Ha...!

Suddenly, my wrist is freed as if slipping out of Roger's hand.

Kate: I did it...!

Roger: Once you get the hang of it, it's not that difficult. Now, let's move on to the next step.

(Huh?)

My eyes widen as Roger suddenly puts me in a half nelson from behind.

Kate: What!? How am I supposed to get out of this!?

Roger: Hey, hey, I told you that trying to force your way out is counterproductive.

Roger: First, try to relax your whole body. Imagine a puppet with its strings cut.

Kate: In this state!? That's impossible!

Ellis: You can do it. I believe in you, Kate.

If you relax, your body will fall under the force of gravity.

When the person holding you panics and tries to support you, push their arm up from underneath and slip out.

--Along with the theory, I was repeatedly drilled in the technique until my body memorized it.

(First, let's learn to protect myself.)

(Once I can do that, I think I can become someone who can protect the people I care about.)

-

The courtyard of Crown Castle echoed with the lively voices of Kate and the others.

There, two shadows lurked unnoticed---.

Nika: Hmm, looks fun. The Crown is more friendly and "family-like" than I imagined.

.

.

.

.

.

Chapter 6

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[tealfling]

Tiefling Spice.

A/N: I’m new to writing fanfiction, and honestly, don't know how any of this works, but I just had to because of Astarion. I think I thought of all the labels.

Summary: Amaranth muses over the taste of blood with her favorite traveling companion, Astarion.

Pairing: Astarion x F!Tav

Tags: tiefling tav, named tav, flirting, banter, somewhere between Act 1/ beginning Act 2, some innuendo

Tav: Amaranth, purple tiefling Cleric

"Hot Cinnamon."

"What?" Astarion turned to Amaranth confused. The purple tiefling had taken to reading beside him in his tent lately, but her book--some spell tome-- had laid ignored in her lap for the past serval minutes. Her white gaze fixated on nothing in the distance as a finger wrapped and looped a long curl of her silver hair. He'd noticed she usually did this when she thought, but he couldn't figure out where her mind had been to say such a thing.

Amaranth faced him with a deadpan expression, "Karlach. I bet her blood tastes like a hot cinnamon kind of spiced drink."

Astarion chuckled in the soft way he did when he was caught off guard, snapping his book shut, then setting it to the side. That conversation had been so long ago, that he was surprised she remembered. "Interesting," he drawled considerately. "She does seem like a sweet spiced burn, doesn't she?" He remarked, regaining his flirtatious air. "But Darling, I'm hurt, here you sit in my company while your mind wanders to another?" he said with mocked melancholy.

Amaranth replied, "Well, I was watching you drink, then I thought about blood, and then I remembered when you asked me what I thought the others might taste like." Astarion watched Amaranth chatter away. Silver freckles danced like starlight across purple cheeks as she hurriedly walked him down her train of thought. "...and then the campfire reminded me of toasted marshmallows, which is how Karlach kinda smells, and then I remembered you asking what the other's blood might taste like...."

The pale elf hummed, mostly watching Amaranth's expressions animate across her face as she spoke rather than listening to her words. His ruby gaze occasionally returned to her plum fingers twisting and raveling that one pearly curl section.

"HEY. Star?"

"Hmm? Yes?" Astraion responded, startled back to the moment by an intense tone and a new name she never called him before. He realized the weight of the silence settling between them. There was a question he hadn't answered and a concerned expression slowly knitting across the face before him.

"Are you okay? You didn't answer my question and I thought I lost you there for a second." Amaranth said gently while trying to hold a playful air. Her eyes were soft, but keenly watching his face for tells.

Deciding he needed to redirect this change in mood, Astarion brushed his long fingers through his bangs, setting a coy smile on his face. "Apologies, Darling, it seems I became distracted admiring those adorable freckles of yours," he thrummed, hoping to fluster his company.

Not today.

Amaranth placed both hands between them, exposed arm muscles flexing to support her as she leaned into his space, face only a few inches lower from his as he retreated a bit from the unexpected invasion. She paused, taking in his wide-eyed expression, unsure. Mirroring his earlier tone, she repeated, " I said. You still haven't told me how I tasted." Her faux sultry look surveyed his face, constantly assessing him, ready to pull back. His pupils dilated, but not much else changed. It only took a moment for his face to settle, ready to unleash a counterattack. She held up a finger, " Ah, and before you throw 'delicious' at me again, it makes for a cute compliment, but rather too vague for a proper description," she said, sitting back on her tucked legs, giving Astarion breathing room. "We both know you can do better than that," she teased. Her tail tip swayed playfully, as she crossed her arms, awaiting his response.

Being on the back foot was Aatarion's least favorite place to be, but lately, Amaranth seemed to be getting the better of him in their little game. Although vexing at times, perhaps it meant his plan was working, that she was falling for him. While it made the game more challenging, her riposte was also, admittedly, more fun. Her initial intrusion toward his person overwhelmed him, an uneasy spark flitting in his stomach. But she just, hovered there, allowing him to adjust. Her tiefling heat permeated the span between them. As she went on, talking about blood, wondering about her flavor, all the while the very thing loudly and visibly pulsed in the neck inches from his face, the scent so strong he could taste it. It irked him that he had to restrain himself from inhaling it deeply. He didn't wish for her to take the impression he might be wanting.

No, Astarion needed to restrategize. Turn this back on her. He sat up, readjusted his shirt, then rested his arm on his bent knee. "Oh, come now my Dear? Where's the fun in that?" he goaded with a flip of the wrist. "You need to guess."

"You're not going to tell me?" the tiefling asked, taken aback. Her pearl-colored brows furrowed.

The pale elf inhaled through his teeth to drawl, "It's hardly a challenge if I tell you now, isn't it Darling?"

"Seriously? How am I supposed to guess? The few times I've tasted my blood, it was either flavorless or reminded me of copper!" she huffed.

"Well," he paused considering, "maybe I'll tell you... If you beg," he ribbed with a small chuckle. Astarion watched as Amaranth bristled. He liked getting a rise out of her. For a moment, he thought he caught a glimpse of her tell when a salacious thought crossed her mind, but, alas, her pewter brow furrowed deeper instead. Amaranth pouted, sucking in the corner of her lip. He'd seen her do this in frustration before, a glimpse of the tiny ivory tip of her tiefling fang baring down on her bottom lip in annoyance. Astarion hated it when she bit her lip this way, the last few times she'd done it, he felt like he might want to bite it too.

For a bit, the only sound between them was the soft, irritated thump of Amaranth's tail on the floor. Her diamond eyes locked in a scowl toward his crimson ones. How hard was it for him to give a little? The question shouldn't be that hard. None of the others at camp were willing to give him their blood, but he'd had intelligent blood in battle before. So between those and their...schedule...by now he surely should have had a working flavor profile of comparison. He was just toying with her. Being told her blood smelled good was--novel, but no one had said why. And Amaranth had to know.

"Fine," she sighed, adopting a look of indifference.

Astarion lifted a single white brow but said nothing. Waiting. He watched as she lifted her long hair back in a stretch, noting the strategic reveal of his favorite part of her neck. The tiefling stood pretending to dust off her thick thighs.

Amaranth continued with a feigned defeated huff, " I guess I'll just go ask my other favorite monstrosity what I taste like. He also thinks I smell delicious and he has been begging for a bite." The tiefling dramatically spun on her heel to face the exit.

"What!? Who?!" Astarion jolted up in a panic.

The purple tiefling whipped around with a giggle, "The owlber cub. You silly goose." Her gentle gaze met his unsure round eyes as he cautiously approached. Damn. That look made her weak. Though, it was quickly countered by his repulsed shrill.

"THE OWLBEAR CUB?" Astarion exclaimed. "That filthy thing?"

Amaranth clicked her tongue, "Oh, now, don't be like that. I know you secretly like him."

"I do not." Astartion puffed, sticking up his nose, and crossing his arms.

"Did you forget, Star, that one of my many talents is Beast Speech?" Amaranth hummed. His ears perked, glancing at her when he heard what he supposed was a new pet name of hers. "I know you let him cuddle you while you read. Don't worry, he likes you, too." The elf rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue. A little too dramatic to be real.

"Anyway," she continued slowly, rocking on her feet, " I guess if you have nothing more to say, then I'll see you for supper." Amaranth conspicuously added, "Unless, I'm utterly devoured first. I don't know if the owlbear cub has ever eaten tiefling before."

"You'd better well not be!" snapped Astarion, playfully. "You know I don't like sharing," he quipped.

Amaranth felt her cheeks pull into an easy smile. This was her favorite type of banter. "I'll see what I can do. There's a chance I'm quite tasty." She smirked, stepping closer to Astarion. "Perhaps I'll offer him a toe? As a treat?" Amaranth made a sweeping gesture to feet. "Definitely, not the tail. I'd miss it too much." She whipped it for emphasis. Astarion chuckled taking a step closer. Amaranth made a low thoughtful hum. "What else?" She pondered, making exaggerated finger taps to her pouty bottom lip. "Ah! What's your least favorite finger?" Amaranth cheerfully beamed, wiggling her fingers beside her face.

Resting his hand on his chin, Astarion looked quite statuesque. He regarded each amethyst palm with careful consideration, before snatching her right wrist in a firm grasp, eliciting a surprised eep from her lips.

Amaranth froze.

Her eyes immediately locked on his face. Trying to read him. When did he get so close? She took careful, calculated breaths. Unsure of what he would do, she waited to see how to react.

Astarion brought her hand closer to his face. With a cool, nonchalant expression, he studied the hand more closely under a discerning red gaze. Using his free hand, he judiciously traced each of her fingers with his, leaving a trail of tingles in his wake. His eyes were observantly fixed on his task. Her eyes were glued to his every movement. He used his own fingers to splay hers more open.

Had his hands always been so much bigger?

Separating her index finger from the rest, "Not this one, Darling," he said in a luscious purr, "It's my favorite." Finally, he met her stare with a sinful gaze as he kissed the very part of her finger that touched her own lips not a short time ago.

Shit.

Amaranth tried to control the exhale that escaped her, but she could feel her nostrils flare. It was obvious between them that she had been holding her breath. She hadn't expected this. He grinned fiendishly as he worked toward the next finger.

"Actually, my Dear, I don't want to part with any of your delectable digits," he droned, brushing his lips across all her fingers. He turned her wrist up, pressing a kiss down on her pulse.

Using the new angle, Amaranth took the chance to caress his cheek with the tips of her fingers that could reach. He flinched, and she retracted her fingers.

"I didn't know you were so jealous of a baby owlbear," she mused softly.

He scoffed, "I'm not," releasing her wrist, but leaned his cheek into her hand. "You're just too important to lose your delightful hands. Could you imagine if we had to rely on only Shadowheart and -ugh- Gale for spells and healing?" He smirked, but his words sounded more sincere than he intended.

"What about Wyll?"

"Ah ha! Wyll doesn't count," he said smugly, causing the tiefling to roll her eyes.

Amaranth gingerly trailed her finger over his cheekbone, barely touching his skin. She used it to move her favorite white curl behind his ear. Enjoying the way the pointed tip flushed. For a second, she caught a glimpse of those sad, round eyes he liked to hide, the ones that made her knees weak.

"Well," she sighed, lowering her hand, "I guess I'd better go help with dinner so that everyone that actually needs food gets fed. It's not fair to make them suffer through so much of Gale's cooking when I'm right here." She joked.

Astarion shifted uneasily, running his fingers through his hair. This was something new he occasionally did, like he wanted to say something, but held back. With Astarion and Shadowheart, she knew better than to press. They needed room to open.

"And what about you?" She inquired pleasantly, "Will you be dining out or ordering room service?"

He paused as if weighing his options before replying, "That depends on what's on the menu tonight?" His rakish grin appeared on his face.

Amaranth lamented in jest, "Unfortunately, only the same old thing that's on the menu every night. However," she perked, struck with an idea, "If you want, I could try to see how many spices I can add to change the flavor?"

"Oh, please, Darling, you're salty enough already." Astarion poked, waving her off with a hand before resting it on his hip.

The tiefling gaped, pushing his shoulder back, "Fine! Garlic breath it is, saer!!" she hissed flippantly. Revolving on the balls of her feet and stomping toward the threshold.

"Wait!" Amaranth hadn't reached the drapes before Astarion's long fingers grazed her arm, stopping her in her tracks faster than a Hold spell. "I was just teasing." He purred.

That was obvious. She replied flatly, "I know," still facing the entrance, trying to hide how happy she was that he stopped her.

"So, you'll come back later?" he asked from behind. It sounded like he was trying to be indifferent.

"Maybe. I don't know. I have other monstrosities I have to feed, you know." she tossed over her shoulder, acting aloof.

She felt Astarion close in behind her. He pulled back her hair, whispering into her ear, "But, you said I'm your favorite, right my Sweet?" Feeling his long fingers caress through the hair at the base of her neck caused her core muscles to flex. Electric tingles danced down her spine. SHIT.

"Yeah," she breathed, "you're my favorite." Amaranth turned her chin up toward his words. Noticing how very close their mouths were. And how very little it would take to close the gap. She could feel the warmth crawling across her cheeks. This fucking cheat was getting the better of her. Amaranth could feel her mind already lulling, she had to do something.

If she let him win now, she'd be here all night, the others would surely come looking for her. And the ones that would come were the ones that would react the worst to finding him fangs deep in her throat...If that's how they found them...

They still had chores to do before nightfall. Before the others stopped checking in with her.

The right thing to do would be to take a pause. She needed to tap out. Before she could lose her will, the purple tiefling popped up on her toes, landing a quick peck on his lips.

"I'm still eating garlic," Amaranth piped, darting out of Astarion's tent.

[strawheart-pirate]

Antiquity

Vampire!Sabo x gn!Reader

Words: 2000 CW: SFW / Modern World AU / Books / Talks / Fangs / No Snacks Please

You were in the library to exchange books. As you looked over the massive choices you had, your appearance caught the interest of a blond gentleman.

The little bell above the door chimed as you entered the library with three books in your arms. As you placed them on the counter to give them back, the librarian came running to you.

“Finally, I didn’t think you would make it today. Welcome!” she said as she started scanning your books with a smile on her face.

“Hey Koala! My lecturer asked me to help him with some stuff and since that took a solid 60 minutes, I was caught in the Rush Hour afterwards. I really hate the traffic in this city!” you sighed as you hang your coat by the door.

“I’m glad you made it. Some new books arrived this week and I already reserved two of them for you. I’m sure you’ll like them.”

You thanked her and made your way towards your favorite section. You’ve already read 90% of the books they have, but you always check if one of the other 10% is available. Most of the time, you were lucky.

As you walked slowly through the aisles, your fingers glided slowly over the backs of the books. The library was your retreat after a stressful week at the campus. You loved the smell of old paper and parchment, of ink and antique leather. Aisles full of books from floor to ceiling, so that you need these movable mounted ladders to grab books from the top shelves. Moreover, you especially liked this library, since Koala pours her heart and soul into it. She has a good eye for decorations, arranged some cozy reading nooks all over the place and added a well-equipped workspace in the middle. And if you crave for a certain book which is not added to the library’s collection yet, just ask her. She will go out of her way to get you the missing piece. There is no better library in the whole world, which is more alluring to you, than this one.

A rather old looking book picked your interest and you took it from the shelf. As you read over the worn-out leather cover, you see that it’s from 1887. Impressive. You read the blurb and the story seemed really appealing so you decided to give it a try and stored it in your arms as you searched the massive collection for more germs. Half an hour later you had a total of five books with you, as you went over to your favorite reading nook. On the upper level was a round window seat right next to a beautiful monstera. The view was breathtaking and it never failed to calm your mind. You can overview the colorful garden and the mighty fountain in the middle of the small lake. The golden glow of the setting sun was working magic on the already autumn-colored leaves and you couldn’t take your eyes of this bewitching sight.

You managed to break to spell of the view, when Koala handed you the two books she saved you and you finally started reading. You were really sucked into another world that you didn’t notice the man across from you. He was at a table across the room and flipped randomly through the pages of the few books on his table. It was clear to see that he was just acting busy, since all he really does was to sneak glances of you. You tried to ignore him and just keep reading, but it was no use. His gaze was shamelessly fixed on you and sent small shivers down your spine everytime you looked back at him over your book.  Annoyed, you closed the book and go on the counterattack. It must be possible for him to stop staring at you somehow. You decide to withstand his gaze until he finally looks away. Big mistake. He seamed pleased that you noticed him and smiled. You were disarmed. His smile hit you unprepared and your cheeks grew hot and red and this most beautiful smile on his pretty face radiated at you. You hid yourself behind your book to escape the embarrassing situation but your plan failed as soon as you heard footsteps approaching you.

“Good choice.” The blonde said as he came to a halt just an armlength away and you slowly lifted your head to look at him. He had blonde, wavy hair which covered half of his face, no facial hair and a pair of eyes which were a deep shade of blue. He was really handsome and obviously waiting for a response. You cleared your throat and answered him in you best confident demeanour.

“We'll see. I just started with it, but someone kept distracting me.”

“I never meant to interrupt you, I'm sorry. Let me tell you something. If you really want to know, if the book is to your liking, then I recommend taking a glimpse on page 10. There the action starts.”

You gave him a scrutinizing look but did as he told you. Just three sentences were enough for you to like the book. You sighed and admitted defeat.

“Okay, yeah you we’re right. I like that book. Did you read the book too?”

“Yes, but it gets even better. I met the author in person, he was hilarious.”

As you were about to ask him, what he meant, Koala called from the ground level. “Sabo!”

“If you would excuse me, please. I‘ll take my leave for now.”

He bowed and your eyes followed his figure. He surely was muscular and the tailored fit of his jacket suited him. The way he walked was like royalty, the grace and confidence that evaporated off him with every step left you speechless. You just realized you were gawking at him with your mouth hung open when he was out of sight. A slight blush crept onto your face and you closed your eyes to collect yourself. This man was something special. Like a good book he caught you with his cover and left you wanting more with the blurb. He said he knew the author in person… Even though he was not joking, you just didn’t know how. You decided to ask him about that later. And if he had already left by then, you were sure to see him another time or ask Koala for his information, since she seemed to know him. You sighed as you grabbed another book from your stack and continued your reading session.

Night fell and as you were done with the books you decided to take the one Sabo recommended and one of Koala’s suggestions with you and save the other ones for later. You were back down between the endless aisles putting the other books away, when Sabo approached you again. He appeared right behind you as you were struggling with putting a book back on the higher shelf, his fingers pushing it effortlessly into the right position. You were surprised and nearly crashed into his chest as you turned around. He eyed you with a smirk, trapping you between the shelf and his self. As your eyes met his you were captivated. Those round eyes, accentuated by a scar which you didn’t notice before, enchanting you with these big blue orbs. Your lips parted involuntarily and Sabo lifted your chin with his gloved hand. You were frozen with anticipation what will happen next. His lips parted... Wait? Are these fangs? A shiver went down your spine, but you weren’t afraid. You wondered what other mysteries you might unfold about this man and how good these fangs would feel on your skin. His lips were just an inch away, when…

BONK!

“Sabo! I told you just how many times?! No snacks in the library!” Koala scolded the now whining man, holding his head.

You shook your head as your cheeks got beet red. Never in your whole life were you that carried away. You lowered your head deeply embarrassed about what just happened. If a hole would swallow you right now, that would be too good to be true. But you weren’t that lucky.

“Ah, I’m sorry Koala!” Sabo said, but Koala glared at him with an evil expression.

“(Y/N) is my friend! Don’t you dare use them for your filthy blood lust.”

“But take a look at those eyes! They are gorgeous!” Sabo said in his defense and a massive blush crept onto his face as they both realized that you were still right beside them. “I’m sorry. It’s really out of character for me to neither introduce myself properly, not take you onto a date first. Please forgive me my rudeness.”

You were blinking fast, your blush darked as Sabo bowed his head and Koala giggled.

“(Y/N)? Are you alright? It was never my intention to scare you or cross boundaries.” Sabo investigated you with concern as he lightly touched your arm.

All kind of thought kept spiraling in your head. Did he say date? And had Koala just mentioned blood lust? Is it April the 1st and you just seemed to miss it all day? You were highly confused until Sabo’s gloved hand touched your arm and though the thick leather of the glove and the thin fabric of your longsleeve separated your skin from his, you could feel warmth seep into you and the hurricane of thoughts came to a stop. You shook off your trance. “No! I mean yes! I…” you took a deep breath and sorted your thoughts before you spoke. “It’s alright. I’m fine.”

“I’m relieved you are.” Sabo gently took your one hand, which wasn’t holding on tight onto your books, in his. “As I said, I never introduced myself properly. My name is Sabo and I’m a 376 year old vampire. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He said and pressed a tender kiss to the back of your palm.

You were touched by the kiss, but one word really hit you hard. “Vampire?!”

“Yes, I…” Sabo looked down shyly. Was he afraid?

“Wow! So those fangs are not just a kind of costume?” you were amazed but still you had doubts. Just mere minutes ago all this was just a fantasy to you, but Sabo told you so and Koala seems to know about him. So, he must be telling the truth.

“I’m afraid they are real. Do they…” Sabo admitted and a hint of worry crossed his face until he heard your answer.

“So cool!” you interrupted him and your eyes twinkled in amazement. Sabo blushed and looked at the floor sheepishly.

“So, I was about to close for today…” Koala tossed in from the back and headed towards the upper floor to tidy up and close the doors and windows.

“Yeah, well. (Y/N), would you like to go on a date with me?” Sabo asked insecure.

“Yeah, I would love to.” You said and smiled. Sabo’s whole face lit up at your words and he looked a little bit like a puppy who just got treated.

“I know a nice restaurant just two streets away or we can pick another time and place, if your day was exhausting enough.” He offered like the true gentleman he was.

“First you give me your blurb and now you offer me a cliff hanger! No, thank you. I’d like to take your offer for today.” You said as you shouldered your bag and walked to the counter to check out your books yourself.

Sabo chuckled and hooked your arm with his as you were ready.

“Have fun you two!” Koala waved from the stairs. “And no biting until the second date Sabo!”

“Will do, thanks Koala.” Sabo said and opened the door for you.

“Have a good night, Koala!” you said and as you looked over to her, she made a gesture, that you should call her. You winked and left the bookstore with a smile.

Who would have thought that you would leave the library today with not just two books, but a walking, priceless antiquity today.

All content unless otherwise stated belongs to: ©Strawheart-pirate. Please do not copy / modify / translate / repost my writing, banners or art on other platforms. Comments, reblogs or likes are highly appreciated!

[ganondoodle]

What actually is the totk rewrite project? It looks interesting and I love the art

thank you!

the totk rewritten project is something i started working on after the game (zelda, tears of the kingdom) has left me severly disappointed on so many levels it just didnt let me rest, i love the franchise and i love botw, i even have a fully painted, albeit slowly updating, comic for a story taking place before skyward sword in the works too; tho this project has nothing to do with the comic

basically im rewriting, designing (including game design) totk in almost every aspect, im taking the real game as a basis tho, right now im still in the writing and design phase, i cant do two full comics at the same time so the final look of the project will be painted 'fake screenshots' with written text detailing whats happening, sort of like half comic half book, but in the style of as if its a playthrough

big changes are that theres no time travel, zelda is your companion and with you always (she goes everywhere with you, translates stuff, helps you fight, and is generally much more taking the charge in important moments), the focus is not on zonau tech but shiekah, exploring more of their origins and revealing that their tech was based on that of the long gone zonau, link loses his arm fully and has it replaced by a shiekah prosthetic, the memories (accessed way different) are from ganondorf in which it is revealed that rauru + sonia were scheming to seal him in that awful half death way of being to prevent him from destroying the world bc they had found old ancient texts from a forgotten time (old titles) that the king of the gerudo would turn into a monster trying to bring down the world, despite ganondorf not actually doing that that yet- he finds out and counterattacks- bringing the whole plot going and ending with him sealed anyway, but this time his body was then later discovered by the shiekah and his strong spirit used as a power source for their tech- tho no goodie good guy he is angry, traumatized and out for revenge for what was done to him now

that is a very very short summary, im also designing links new abilities (hook shot with his prosthetic for example) and welll .. alot more

if you are interested in reading and seeing what concepts i have as of now, with the tag "ganondoodles rewrites totk" you should be able to find all posts i have made about it on this blog, tho of course it can all still change as im working on it :D

[ffxiv-f13ndish]

Old Foes and New

collab drabble w/ @ro-valerius [Tofu, Nhagi] ! Credit to @ro-valerius for gpose !

Regardless of what Tofu had told him some time ago about staying out of his business, Virgil made Tofu’s business his own business. The pieces were coming together as he tracked down Tuturoko’s men — not quite attacking, but taking notes from the shadows. Some figures in the shadows were becoming quite familiar.

For instance, he knew he was being followed now. Virgil gave no time to address as he flipped the pages in his book and summoned forth his carbuncle and brought up a shield around himself.

The woman kept to the shadows, smirking under her mask as she lifted one hand, fingertips pointed downwards as if holding on to a puppet by its strings. From the shadows around her sprang forth a swarm of inky dark wolves, each snapping and snarling as they rushed towards the elezen. The woman, however, remained content to remain where she was, even going so far as to sink further into the darkness; she wanted to watch, but not get involved. 

Virgil gave a sigh through his nose. What a nuisance. And here he was hoping to get home in time for a night-time tea. With the close proximity of the wolves, Virgil had to act fast. He didn’t have time to consider the repercussions of straining his aether as the pages of his book flipped and he summoned up Garuda-egi. With a swift move of his hand, he cast an attack which dispersed among the crowd of wolves.

“How appropriate, fighting from the shadows. Your cowardice is reminiscent of whom you serve. Perhaps it is hereditary, beast manipulator?” Virgil said through clenched teeth. He emitted a growl as the maw of a wolf sunk into his wrist, which he counterattacked with a quick cast of painflare. 

The woman laughed at his words, striding forward just enough for him to see her appearance. 

“Oh, you filthy man, I am not afraid of you. We are of the void, are we not? At least, you attempt to be, while I became one with it,” she said, recalling what Tuturoko had told her about her quarry. She allowed a small amount of void magic to ripple around her, more as a show than anything of import. The elezen had taken some of her pets, but she could summon more. And so she did. 

A wolf crept around Virgil’s right, noting the blindness in that eye and looking to take advantage of it. It kept low and quiet as it geared up to lunge, but its fangs met not the neck they were aimed for, instead biting down on the arm of a viera with fury in his eyes. 

“Void or not, woman, you should be afraid,” Tofu growled. The woman scoffed, a frown of irritation on her lips. 

“I am not meant to fight you, yet, rabbit. If you survive these, we’ll meet again,” she said, summoning more wolves and fading away into the shadows. 

Virgil gave Tofu a glance. So it seemed he made it out of bed rest, miraculously. He wondered how long that would last. His eyes fell to Tofu’s arm, a faint scoff sounding from him upon seeing the wound left from the bite of the wolf.

“The one day you neglect to put those damned gauntlets on, you decide to stick your arm into a wolf’s maw for me. I suggest you go back to bed rest, not because your health is ailing, but because you are ill in the head,” Virgil couldn’t help but chide Tofu as he geared himself up for the swarm.

With a labored breath, he brought forth Ifrit-egi, unleashing the flames of its wrath among the wolves to his left.

“You’re one to talk about bed rest, corpse, and I’ll have you know that I didn’t neglect them, they got…damaged and I can’t wear them anymore, I just forgot since I’m used to having them…” Tofu grumbled, cutting open the wolf still latched to his arm and giving a tilt of his head when it evaporated into smoke. 

“Good news, these things seem less…hearty than real wolves, bad news, there are a lot of them.” 

“Stop talking,” Virgil said through gritted teeth. 

Tofu shrugged and ducked forward quickly, dodging fang and claw as he tore through three wolves in one movement, turning on his heel to face two more as they lunged towards him. He kicked the feet out from under one of them, using his new lowered position to swing his knife up and under the second before spinning on his hand to catch the one he had dropped with his other knife. 

He glanced around; he had just taken care of six, Virgil had gotten a handful, and there were…from his count, ten left. 

Ten left, and Virgil was getting tired. Tired of seeing others obtain what he had failed to achieve, and certainly quite tired of getting saved by another viera. With Ifrit-egi still at the ready at his side, he projected another attack — only for the quick-learning wolves to move out of the blast. 

“Allow me this favor. If I do expire, do not allow Dante to take my eyes,” Virgil growled as he stumbled back, a wolf pouncing towards him head on. The pages turned, and he shot a charge of aether at the oncoming wolf to drain its energy — hopefully, it won’t tear off his face with so much vigor. 

“Like hells are you expiring today, Virgil! Lament and Kore would wring my neck if I let that happen!” Tofu said as he rushed the wolf that had geared up to attack the elezen. With one hand, he swiped his knife across the beast, and with his other, he tossed a small vial at Virgil. “Fiora thought you might need this, and I’m inclined to agree!” 

“Either way, they’ll wring your neck for being here,” Virgil huffed as he staggered back against a wall. He prepared to face the wolf, only for Tofu to quickly dispose of it — much quicker than he expected of him, really. He caught the vial, narrowly avoiding dropping it as his hands struggled to keep together. Before it had the chance to slip through his palms, he quickly downed the potion. The sweet punch of it was almost enough to invigorate him alone. However, Virgil needed a moment to catch his breath-

Three wolves snarled and charged as the rest circled around for an opportune moment. Tofu caught one in the jaw with his boot, surprised that even that was enough to undo the creature, and dug his knives into the other two as they closed in. 

-And it seemed Tofu was making good use of that moment. It seemed Virgil was wrong about Tofu. 

Virgil peeled away from the wall. As a wolf came up behind Tofu, he shot it with a quick Ruin spell. 

“Shame my aim is impeccable. Maybe I would have caught you with a proper spell this time,” Virgil jested. He stood up straight as he surveyed what was left. 

“Yeah yeah, you’re so powerful, hey can we get rid of these first, then you can make fun of me?” Tofu called over his shoulder with a quick smile to signify his own jest. Neither of them were very good at joking, but somehow they understood each others’ intent. 

There were five wolves left, and they branched off, two going for Virgil and three gunning for Tofu. Really, they should have all gone for one or the other, but, well, beasts were still beasts, after all. 

Tofu flitted through quickly, knife flashing in the light cast by the torches as he dispensed of two of the three wolves on him with ease. The last one moved out of the way, circling around and leaping from behind, catching Tofu in the shoulder with its teeth for a brief moment before his knife buried into its skull. As the last wolf on him came undone, he checked on how Virgil was faring.

Virgil made quick work of the two wolves that bounded his way with the help of Garuda-egi’s aerial blast. One wolf disposed of into the winds, the other hurled towards him – which Virgil finished off with a potent Ruin spell. 

Despite drinking his potion, Virgil was exhausted. He tried not to show it in his expression as he straightened up. 

“Pathetic,” Virgil spat, eyes narrowed as he stared off into the depths of the shadows, where their attacker had disappeared. 

“Her attack tonight only confirmed my suspicions. It seems your work pertaining to the Basilisks is not quite finished, Tofu,” Virgil dryly explained, leaning up against a wall to keep himself steady as he gathered himself once more. 

Tofu gave an almost curious tilt of his head, but his expression wasn't in it. Based on the colour of the woman's hair, her vocal mannerisms, and the facial markings he could barely catch sight of, he could tie this woman to the mage from before, but he had no idea what tied them to the Basilisks. 

“Do elaborate what you mean by that, Virgil. What ties that woman to the pirates?” he inquired, casting a glance around to ensure the danger was fully passed for the time being. 

Virgil gave Tofu an incredulous, stone cold stare – as if he were reprimanding Tofu for not recognizing something so obvious. Nevermind the fact that the information that Virgil had so scrupulously investigated was not as obvious as Virgil perceived it to be; to Virgil, what he knew should be common sense. 

“Next time you involve yourself in another inane revenge scheme, I suggest that you take great care to discard a target which has no familial or platonic ties — or one who has dissolved them,” Virgil said as he stood upright once more. “The beast puppeteer – of whom you had the delight of facing her creatures tonight – was the sister of the mage your pack had eliminated on the ship. There are quite a few stray frays that remain of the rope which tied you all to the Basilisks. I gather it is only a matter of time before they all weave together into a much more formidable beast with the men which seek to destroy you.”

There was a brief silence hanging in the air before a confused “She had another sister, and that one was on the ship?” Another brief silence followed. “All three of them were mages of some caliber?”

Nonetheless, Tofu squared his shoulders and met Virgil’s gaze evenly.

“Whatever comes for me, it will be destroyed. Whatever comes for my family, my friends, my dear ones, will be destroyed before it can do harm,” he said with determination. 

“Ah, yes. People can have siblings, which may be inclined to practice the same thing, yes,” Virgil flatly confirmed. His head tilted to one side in thought. “The thought to consider this does not please me, but if we are dealing with a mage well practiced in the art of manipulating voidsent creatures – we may have to involve someone I know who is quite… familiar… with voidsents.”

Tofu did another quick survey of the area before turning a half glance to Virgil, looking the elezen up and down before returning to a vigilant watch. 

“I have fought many a voidsent in my time, comes with the whole…Scion and Warrior of Light territory, I believe. I can handle it,” he said, keeping an air of confidence in his tone as he once more looked sidelong at Virgil. “I do note that ‘we’. This has nothing to do with you, are you involving yourself due to the void nature of that woman? What do you hope to gain?”

Virgil’s gaze fell on the injuries which Tofu had received during his feats to defend him. He gave a vexed sigh through his nose and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Instead of accepting that your actions to handle things on your own are selfish, I advise that you put more effort into accepting the help. It’ll only make you stronger, believe it or not. You have potential, but you tarnish any efforts to temper it by setting yourself back continuously. You are by no means stupid or useless, I know that much. But the actions you choose, based on the familiarity of it to your past... those are stupid decisions,” Virgil icily remarked, stepping closer as he held his gaze firm to Tofu’s. “The mage came to target me, regardless if it had to do with you. I’m involved now. Remember that.”

Tofu averted his gaze.

“These people… are my demons to face. But I cannot deny that you are right in that she clearly marked you as her prey this time. For what reason, I can’t say, but I suppose as much as I hate it, you are involved. Fine. But no one else. I don’t trust outside of the circle I know. If we need a voice on voidsent…we can ask my sister. Seems that thing’s been talking to her recently, alarming as that is, but it gives her information on the void,” he said, turning his eyes back to Virgil to convey his determination. 

“I understand that. And I don’t care.” Virgil studied Tofu’s expression. His head tilted in the other direction in consideration of Tofu’s sister being involved, attention piqued by the information shared on her.

“That will be necessary. Perhaps it can bring more insight on what this woman is capable of. It might be all we get before I can dissect her myself,” Virgil hummed, holding the crook of his index finger to his bottom lip in thought. “The creature within her… it is not the only voidsent that may be of assistance.”

Virgil paused, reluctant to speak of what he wanted to say next.

“I may… have had one success in my feats to create an evolved hybrid of a voidsent,” he said, after a hefty pause. Tofu shook his head.

“I already said no more. I can’t give that rat more targets to use against me than he already has,” he said stubbornly. Even he knew he could only spread himself so thin. He was already worn out from decades of that man… “I have to end this, and soon…”

“The more targets he has, the less he can focus his attacks. And frankly, it would be convenient for the both of us if this target is disposed of,” Virgil said, making a motion for Tofu to follow him as he began to walk. “For context, that is a joke. But if you intend on ending this sooner, you won’t make any progress alone – as I had already said. Or shall I have to hammer it into your head again? With an actual hammer? At least hear my considerations before you start wallowing and brooding.”

“You don’t know how Tuturoko operates,” Tofu said as he started after Virgil. “He doesn’t attack everyone he knows he can target, he picks who he can corner alone and uses them as bait to lure me out. And if I don’t… If I don’t come for them, he’ll just kill them outright - they’ll have lost their importance. He doesn’t care about anything else, he just wants me dead.” There was a brief silence before he spoke again, his voice soft. “And I have no idea why…”

“Perhaps not. But I do know how some of his men do,” Virgil said, reaching into his coat pocket to grab that infamous journal of his. “I have neglected to obtain all of who is involved, but there is a good chunk in there. Frankly, when I heard about the dealings with this new mage of theirs, I had to switch gears.” He handed Tofu the journal to look through.

“Good news, I know why you’re being targeted now. Stuck your nose in when I told you not to- Okay fine,” Tofu started, but clamped his mouth shut at a look from Virgil.

“It is difficult to be cornered when you know how to get out of a corner. I’m not saying it is foolproof, but having a set tactic may help us…” Virgil trailed off for a moment, taking a glance around at his surroundings. 

“We should not be discussing these matters outside. Let us retire to a home to speak further. There is much to be shared and planned.”

[dailytzeentch69]

Paradise on my left, Hell on my right and the Angel of Death behind - A She-Ra/Dune crossover fanfiction

By decree of the Corrino Prime, ruler of the imperium, House Brightmoon is given control of the desert world of Arrakis and the right to mine the geriatric spice Melange, the source of space travel and the most valuable commodity in the universe. But the world is taken from their mortal enemies, the Horde, and Duke Micah and his wife Angella must prepare themselves for the inevitable counterattacks, both open war and more underhanded methods. But more powerful players have entered the field, manipulating the circumstances of Brightmoon's new power and with a particular interest on Angella's adoptive daughter, Adora.

Dune/She-Ra crossover. Will cover only the plot of the first book, and will diverge from the book's plot.

Rating: E for violence, eventual smut maybe

Warnings: Violence, Character death, War, Colonialism, Anything else typical for Dune, Manipulation/Abuse from Shadow Weaver

Relationships: Catra/Adora (eventually), Bow/Glimmer, Entrapta/Hordak

Other tags: Slow Burn

[coolrpblog]

PAST LIFE/SOUL

As this topic won in the poll it is time for some really fun deep lore on Klein laddies so sit and buckle up. First, we'll talk about the soul as that well later get into the past life better.

Klein doesn't have a normal soul. There's a fragment of an old soul that has attached itself to the new soul. Because of this, there are differences with how he looks compared to, well, we'll use the killer verse Klein as an example.

Klein vs the Spider lily Killer version of himself doesn't have the same hair color and their pupils are not the same in color as well. To add onto this Klein has a massive birthmark on his back that looks like something huge swiped at him from behind. Those are the biggest differences with looks. But another thing to add is Klein has much stronger reflexes than his killer counterpart and because of that if he's in any physical fights he seems to always counterattack with shocking speed.

However, because of the way the soul is, upon death the soul will split. But with that there is more that will happen on his death as the birthmark on his back is not just the mark of what killed his past life, but a curse. His death will have him have the same fate as his past self; to be erased by history to never be remembered.

Now onto the past life.

Many years ago, in Japan there existed a demon hunter by the name of Jun'ichi Yamamoto, he followed in his family's steps though he in time only started to kill select demons as he came to learn that not all demons are harmful and want to kill humans.

One of the most notable physical traits he had was the vivid red pupils that contrasted his emerald-green eyes. His hair was that of a dark greyish lavender. With scars that littered his body from past battles as well as a large burn over his left arm and shoulder.

He was known by everyone in his country, there were books written about him and a statue of him in one of the larger cities in the time.

Yet all that was known of him, including his bloodline was wiped, destroyed and gone in a day. Those that knew of the once brave samurai suffered memory loss or were found dead or remained missing to this day, and the few that may still know of him are either demons or immortals.

All this because he went to face a demonic false god on an island that costed him his life. The being ripped apart his soul, devouring a fragment of it while two other fragments drifted. One remaining in the blade he fought with and the other finding its way into the spirit world where it would remain and wait for the right time for an attempted at reincarnation.

It is lucky for him that the false god is bound to that island, though in years to come it shall set out its puppets to look for that soul that escaped, as it doesn't want even a fragment of that hunter to exist.

But the body of Jun'ichi...? It remains with the god, a soulless and lifeless puppet that will lay in wait for the day that fragment of his soul to return to that island where he will strike down that fragmented reincarnation of himself as the god wishes.

It is fitting for the soul to die where it originally split apart at after all...

[pearlyboi-ofthenight]

Title: The New Book's Counterattack

Maturity Rating: 16+

Summary: Character who is an aspiring shonen mangaka accidentally creates perfect yaoi/bl (all of these panels are supposed to be fight scenes)

[alln64games]

Quest 64

NA release: 10th June 1998

PAL release: 30th September 1998

JP release: 9th July 1999

Developer: Imagineer

Publisher: THQ (NA), Konami (PAL) Imagineer (JP)

N64 Magazine Score: 71%

There’s a lot of curious things about the Quest series. This game was given different names in different regions. In North America, it was the very generic Quest 64. In Europe is was the rather meaningless Holy Magic Century and in Japan it was Eltale Monsters (I think Eltale Book would have worked better). Despite being a JRPG, it also came out in Japan last.

Quest got a spin-off in the form of a Mr. Do clone on Game Boy Color called Quest: Fantasy Challenge in the USA and, oddly, Holy Magic Century in Europe (it wasn’t released in Japan) and then a remake of the original game on Game Boy Colour (with an expanded story) called Quest: Brian’s Journey in the USA and Elemental Tale – Jack’s Great Adventure: Satan’s Counterattack in Japan (this one wasn’t released in Europe).

As for Quest 64, the game itself is also interesting as it seems like a great starting point for a game, but it feels like it isn’t finished. It works fine and isn’t glitchy, it’s just there isn’t a lot to it. The idea behind the story is interesting, but it isn’t told well. It’s very easy to lose track of what you’re supposed to be doing due to lack of context, and NPCs rarely have anything interesting to say.

The combat has some interesting ideas, too. It’s turn-based but you move around in the actual game world. You can move around within a circle (which is more of a circle in the Japanese version) to position yourself and select an attack. When enemies attack you have a bit of movement to try and dodge.

You collect spirits in four elements: fire, wind, water and earth (no heart) and as you get more, you unlock more abilities. There are three “levels” of attack but in each new “level” you can mix in another element for a wide variety of spells. Unfortunately, there are just a couple of attacks that are far better than others.

By far the biggest issue with the combat is the random encounter system, as the amount you get is extremely overboard. You can be drawn into a new battle immediately after one ends and, other than trying to break the game by hugging walls (or using a Gameshark code), there’s no proper way to avoid battles.

What doesn’t help is that a lot of battles won’t reward you with anything, as the game won’t give you an item if you already have one of them in your inventory. You’ll get tired of the random encounters before the end of the first area.

There’s plenty to like about Holy Quest Monsters, but also a lot to hate about it. It feels like the developers had a lot of ambitions but had to tone it back during development. It has a lot of interesting ideas, it just doesn’t fully use them.

Packed with atmosphere, each populated area consists of lush green fields, glorious castles and lovingly-crafted thatched houses with gently smoking chimneys. The people, meanwhile, are happy to do that RPG thing of standing around like statues, but at lease they give you puzzles to solve. Or so you’d think. In fact, all the residents are content to say much the same thing, normally along the lines of “Ooh, if only someone would go and kill that big boss character!” And considering the town or forest where the boss lives is – gasp! – the next place on the path you’re following, you can almost get away without speaking to anyone

- Mark Green, N64 Magazine #23

Remake or remaster?

Quest 64 definitely deserves a fresh attempt. Refine the combat system, add more context to the story and give NPCs more to do with side quests and other activities.

Official ways to get the game.

There is no official way to get Quest 64

[quinn-borel]

"i honestly don't even know who you could possibly be referring to."

“I want the defenses of the outer ward rechecked.  See to it that our ballistas are in good repair and supplied with enough ammunition for a prolonged siege.” Aymeric explained firmly to the young knight before him.  With a proper salute, the knight saw to his Lord Commander’s demands and made his way out of the room.

But not before he could have a moment of solitude did three guests arrive shortly after, one after another they formed a line in front of his desk.  It was a welcome surprise to say the least, having dealt with an onslaught of officer after officer, knight after knight and so forth walking right into his office to voice their reports, and demands, to the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights.  To see Alphinaud Leveilleur, Estinien, and the Warrior of Light, Quinn Rin’ria, grace his presence was a fine break from the dire situation at hand.  

“Ah, ‘twould seem I have visitors,” he began with a smile, though his lips straightened back into the taught line more befitting of a commander, “and unlike those massing beyond our walls, these ones are welcome.”

HIs gaze fell to Alphinaud, who lead the group in and began his speech with a short bow, while Quinn and Estinien gave the Lord Commander a respective nod,

“Pray forgive us for interrupting you in the midst of your preparations, Ser Aymeric, but our suit concerns the impending assault.”

While he gave the young man a nod in return, he had hoped that they would come bearing some form of unrelated news solely to change the subject that had been on his mind for the past fortnight.  He motioned with his hand for the young man to continue on,

“...To speak plain,” Alphinaud continued, “we believe there is a chance the invasion might be halted before it even begins.”

Wary of the young man’s proposal, Aymeric crossed his arms in a sign of confusion, “Do explain.”

“Well, I can divulge little more at this time.” Alphinaud began, “But I must request that you advise the Holy See to refrain from launching any preemptive sorties whilst we seek to put out plans in motion.”

Ultimately, Aymeric was not convinced by the words of a young diplomat in the making.  Yet he reviewed Alphinaud’s proposal once more: to stop the invasion of Nidhogg’s horde before it could begin.  It was still a chance, however, and many officers within the Temple Knights would not be keen on keeping their swords and lances at bay on the count of a mere possibility.  Yet, any bloodshed spared would be considered a victory in his book, choosing not to throw his men in harm’s way if need be.

“…I will gladly lend my support to any endeavor that could spare the blood of my countrymen–but I would know more of the cause you would have me champion.  Will you not share aught of this mysterious undertaking?”

Alphinaud stood in silence, not wishing to divulge anymore than he needed to, yet he still needed to sway the Lord Commander.  Estinien took a step forward, his ebony armor shimmering in the candlelight as he looked over to his long-time friend,

“Know that I have offered my lance to aid in this endeavor.  I cannot claim that its success is assured, but our actions should serve to delay Nidhogg’s advance at the very least.”

“He’s right.” Quinn began, tipping her chapeau upwards so that Aymeric could look her in the eyes as she spoke, “At the very least, we can buy you some time to shore up your defenses for the city.  But I can assure you that, together, we should be able to keep your men from marching to their deaths.  This, I can promise you.”

“Which is more than can be said for the ill-conceived counterattack advocated by the See’s more vocal crusaders.  They offer glorious death, but little hope of victory.” Estinien explained further.

“Aye, you’re both right.” Aymeric shot back, “Our resources should rightly be spent shoring up the city’s defenses, not preparing for an all-out attack against the horde.”

“Exactly.  So, Ser Aymeric, you must give us a chance to take on this duty and buy us some time.” Alphinaud pleaded.  Aymeric sat back in his chair, musing aloud,

“The Azure Dragoon and the Warrior of Light, sallying forth together to face the dread wyrm Nidhogg...”

It would be the tale for the ages–two powerful warriors taking on the dread wyrm that haunted their lands for generations and putting an end to his tyranny.  By Estinien’s lance and by Quinn’s bow, it was quite possible that they could take on the unimaginable.  A power-couple, he could argue…

He closed his eyes once more to think over the proposition.  Something deep in his soul repeated the words Quinn specifically said to him–her promise to keep his men from marching to their deaths.  Something about the way those words came from her lips sold him on the idea as a whole.  While his long-time friend vowed his lance, the woman herself–the Warrior of Light–would be the key to their victory.  Her strength, her wisdom, her skill with a bow would surely prove advantageous to Alphinaud’s plan, for Aymeric knew verbal negotiations with the great wym would fall on deaf ears.  

She was more than the bumbling drunk she claimed to be the night they danced together.  That was for sure.

“I must admit,” Aymeric began once more, “the mere thought of you two working together does much to dispel my misgivings.”

His eyes slightly widened when he saw Quinn smile–the only one who smiled out of the three of them.  It was a small smile, but nonetheless…radiant.

“...Ahem,” he coughed, “So, go, then—carry out your plan.  I shall do what I can for you within the Holy See.”

“Thank you, Ser Aymeric.” Alphinaud said with a bow.  He and Estinien both took their leave, but Quinn lingered a bit behind, looking at the Lord Commander over her shoulder as if to personally thank him for his blessing.  Their gazes lingered on each other, Aymeric finally breaking a soft smile to her as if he were personally wishing her safe travels.  If only she could stay longer.  If only he could verbally convey to her how invaluable she was.   How brave she was.  How he wished he could join her…

“Quinn?” Alphinaud called out to her, to which the Warrior of Light gave Aymeric a nod and headed for the door.  As it closed shut, Aymeric sighed as he once again sat back in his chair,

“Lucia, some tea, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, my Lord.  Do you wish for me to send an invitation as well?”

“Hm?’ Aymeric cocked his brow, ”An invitation?  You jest.“

“I figured your conversation was far from complete.” she pointed out before heading to the door herself, “You seem to wish to congregate further.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea of who you could possibly be referring to.” he said with a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, confused as to where this was coming from.  Surely she didn’t mean Estinien–the two of them were on working terms for the time being.  Their days of tea were long over by then.

But she knew exactly who he wished to speak with further.

[pedanther]

*sigh*

I know that tone often doesn't come across in text, but I genuinely wasn't expecting my "Hey, here's a fun fact you might not have known and seem like you'll enjoy" post to provoke a vicious counterattack.

I suppose it's fortunate that I've now been blocked and thereby saved the trouble of deciding whether it would be a good idea to try and explain myself, but it's left me a bit shaken.

Being misunderstood is a danger of responding to people you've never interacted with before, I suppose, but isn't interacting with new people one of the things these Tumblr book clubs are supposed to be for?

[bronanlynch]

once again I've watched more anime than done anything else this week but I promise I also have other stuff to talk abt

listening (podcast):

Great Gundam Project: almost done with their 0079 episodes and it's so funny to hear how confused and surprised they are that Newtypes don't get mentioned until the last 10 episodes. also, once again, hearing them talk about Char reminds me that I miss seeing Char on my television screen :/

Palisade: once again it was crazy good this week. shout out to fucked up dream sequences/visions of alternate futures, gotta genuinely be one of my favorite storytelling devices

listening (music): MakeDamnSure by Taking Back Sunday, which is going on my Partizan/Palisade playlist for Balence reasons

reading:

Imperial Uncle: got to more fun reveals that make the main relationship a lot tastier and more fun. still having a good time with this one

The Death I Gave Him: part of the appeal of this book for me (other than that I love Hamlet & Hamlet retellings) is the romance with the sentient lab AI. this should shock absolutely no one (at least no one who knows me as the Sokrates/Integrity guy lol) but I'm real into stuff that explores like, how intimacy works when you don't each have your own separate bodies

A Power Unbound: also started & finished something I've been looking forward to, A Power Unbound by Freya Marske, the third book in a romance/historical fantasy trilogy (different main characters for each) set mostly in Edwardian England. I've enjoyed the other books in the series, and I enjoyed this one too (though I think I prefer the other two for reasons that probably don't have to do with the actual quality of this book and have more to do with what I like & don't like in a main relationship, and actually it's a testament to how strong the writing was that the relationship worked for me anyway, because it did feel earned in terms of both characterization & themes, even though it's the sort of relationship dynamic that I tend to be hesitant about because I often see it done very badly in fanfic in ways that do a disservice to the personalities of both characters involved). anyway. my actual review is that I love fucked up magic houses and there are several of those in this book so shout out to that, and one of the main characters is extremely my type (short, angry, hates the aristocracy, etc)

watching:

I'm in Love with the Villainess: we're caught up now, and I do love class conflict even if I'm sure it's going to be incredibly simplistic and silly because that's the show this is (which I am fine with, to be clear, this is a romance anime based on lovingly parodying otome games, I am treating it with the same kind of seriousness that I would treat something like Scum Villain)

Bakeoff: I'm glad that this year they seem to be better about not putting way too much weight on the showstopper and sometimes deciding star baker based on other challenges like. finally some respect for people who do really well in the signature!!

Legend of the Galactic Heroes: I mean. I've been posting through it about this one so I don't think I have any new insights here just. man. I love it when a major character death is done really well. what a show (positive)

Gundam Seed: you may, at this point, be asking why Seed is our next Gundam after finishing ZZ, especially when every week I talk about pining for Char. the answer is because my roommate watched some of it a while ago and wanted to revisit it, and also because we're saving Char's Counterattack for when we get really desperate for Gundam that isn't Seed. anyway. Seed is fun so far!

the above description of Gundam Seed was written a few days ago when we first started but before we got to the info dump about what's up with Coordinators & Naturals so I'm editing this to say: oof. it really is like what if someone took all of the parts of the original Newtype stuff that I was most skeptical about, took out all of the metaphorical stuff from Zeta that redeemed the concept for me, and then explicitly added literal eugenics. don't like that!

the other thing about Seed is the misogyny which like. god. at least the misogyny in Zeta felt more interesting to think about. at least it felt like Tomino was saying things about gender even if I didn't always like it. this is just peak early 2000s misogyny where everyone including the writers hates women so much that every man comes across as incredibly gay because their relationships with other men are treated so much more seriously

at this point you might be asking what I actually like about this show since I've been complaining for several paragraphs and the answer is I love it when childhood friends end up on the opposite sides of a war. also, a lot of Seed feels like it's trying very hard to Be A Gundam Show (for better or worse tbh, I can feel myself being marketed to, I can practically hear Bandai being like, hey remember how cool it is when a blue-and-white mobile suit fights a pinkish-red mobile suit, don't you want to buy some models), and I am not immune to classic Gundam shit like "oops these kids are involved in a war now because the military was developing a top-secret superweapon right next to where they live" and "your lives are at risk and/or you might get arrested for trying to protect your friends because the higher-ups are incompetent/selfish/do not care about you." I am also not immune to squads of edgy anime boys, or giant robots that each have their own special weapon/power, or whatever the fuck Le Creuset's got going on. I love him. I still miss Char and he's not quite filling that void but I do love him

playing:

another session of my Blades in the Dark campaign, based on the image below (from here). the crew was asked to get the sea serpent to go away and leave ships alone, and absolutely no one was surprised that the secret actual mission was to protect the sea serpent (a baby one) from the coast guard who were going to try to make it leave but more violently because we're playing Blades like it's a game about befriending creatures (see also: Missy is currently trying to resocialize a former fighting goat and Xiao Yun collects extremely fucked up birds)

Ace Attorney 5: not very far into the trial but man. sorry for falling for the trilogy nostalgia but I love to have Edgeworth as a prosecutor, I love the energy that he and Phoenix have, I'm such a sucker for defense attorney & prosecutor working together to find the truth and also they're in love

making: vaguely spanakopita-inspired stuffed pastry wreath. we made it once before and put too much extra vegetable in that released too much water while it was baking so the dough just straight up did not cook. we did it better this time! the dough is actually baked! (it's store-bought crescent rolls, we did not make the dough). anyway. there's spinach and mushroom and herbed goat cheese in there, and it's tasty

drinking: the grocery store had peppermint bark creme liqueur, and it's pretty good in hot chocolate

writing: continued to pick away at a zine fic, figured out what I want to write for my Nirvana in Fire exchange fic, and also did a little bit more on the Integrity fic that I've been working on. it has been a minute since I've written an action scene huh

The Principality knows how to contain divines, to leash them, to defang them and bend their powers to its will. And Integrity is an old divine, and never among the most awe-inspiring. Integrity is a small, quiet thing, precise and intimate and not suited for flashy displays of power like many of its fellows. But it is a divine nonetheless, and when it fights, it brings death. Orbit-and-Integrity steps into the corridor where the Princept fled. Orbit bares their remaining teeth, blood pooling in their mouth and seeping through the seams that begin to open in Integrity’s armor where it no longer has the focus to keep them closed.

[theteej]

Belonging and the Future: Thinking through Anti-queer Violence

T.J. Tallie, University of San Diego

I followed the discussion of the defacing of the NWU Potchefstroom campus pride flag with interest this week.  As a professor, I find incidents like this one an increasingly and depressingly common occurrence on university campuses of late.  But events here in Southern California, where I work, prompted me to think about this more broadly as part of a larger set of responses, particularly at white and settler institutions.

This week in California, two separate events echoed the Potch incident.  First was the murder of Laura Ann Carleton, the owner of a local boutique who was shot by an assailant displeased with the prominent Pride flag she displayed at her business.  Carleton’s killing was widely reported in international media, and people have begun to opine at large upon the significance of increasing conservative rhetoric demonizing LGBTQ+ people as ‘groomers’ or threats at large to the whole of American society.  The second event was less reported, but still noteworthy; over 150 protestors marched from the Los Angeles City Hall to the headquarters of the Los Angeles Unified School District, where the city’s Board of Education was holding a routine meeting.  The protestors explicitly demonstrated against LGBTQ+ education and programming in the LAUSD, which is the second largest public school district in the United States after New York City.  That a large protest in an ostensibly progressive city and state would occur explicitly as an anti-queer counterattack in education seems at first incongruous.  But the killing of Carleton and the protests themselves represent a larger trend in the United States in particular.  These incidents, along with the Potch pride flag defacement, offer insight into a particular kind of backlash that exists at the intersections of historically white settler societies and around the larger anxieties and contestations over who claims the present, and indeed, the future.

When interviewed, the LAUSD demonstrators framed their rationale specifically through a lens of futurity and protection.  “We believe that there is a radical indoctrination system that has seeped from academia and now into K through 12. We’ve been trying to get kiddie porno smut books out of the schools. And we don’t want people to talk about sex with our children without telling us and behind our backs,” San Diego-based protestor Ben Richards asserted.  While such a statement may initially appear to a bit of a confusing word salad, the argument coheres around an idea that the child is under threat, and with it, the future of the settler colonial state.  It is not a coincidence that the infamous 2017 Charlottesville protests, themselves on a historically white campus founded by slaveowner Thomas Jefferson, emphasized specifically about ‘not being replaced,’ and securing a future for ostensibly white people and their children.

It is not surprising if we see these overall phenomena as linked; the idea of protecting ‘a future’ by also displacing onto expressions of queerness the fears of an unstable white and colonial future. Protecting ‘children’ from the fear of a destabilizing queer future is a well-worn track of political rhetoric.  To unpack this idea, I turned to three theorists: Lee Edelman, Cathy Cohen, and Judith Butler.  For Cathy Cohen, white supremacy and heteronormativity function hand-in-hand as a way to justify the occupation of indigenous lands and spaces.  The normalization and justification a settler project is one that must first normalize the violences committed in the creation of the state, and then secondarily seek to defend it as inevitable by making sure that the next generation can inherit it without question.  In her work, this means that both people of color and queer people themselves can become threats to the perceived order of a white settler society, and can be subject to violence and persecution in order to keep the colonial society functioning as normal.[1]

Indeed, settler societies naturalize the violence of their existence by continuing to attempt to secure a future in colonial landscapes.  To do this requires investing in an imagined sense of future straightness.  As Edelman argued in his 2004 polemic No Future, queerness is often seen to those invested in the status quo of a colonial nation state as something fundamentally troubling and threatening to the orderly control of power from one generation to the next.  Thus, the occupation of indigenous lands and spaces becomes a project that must be upheld daily and secured for the next generation to come, the always in the distance ‘child’ who must be protected.[2]  For Butler, compulsory heterosexuality, then, is advanced by its proponents as the only real form of existence.  It must constantly reproduce what was created before it—and it is constantly on the brink of failure.  The stakes are high for such a project.  The world of straightness must be made and remade, constantly, it must be defended and protected, or the future is at risk.[3] 

This is why Laura Ann Carleton, even though she herself identified as straight, put the world and the future at risk for the shooter who saw her flag in front of her boutique.  By claiming space and a future for LGBTQ+ identified people, Carleton aligned herself with queerness, with a threat to the generations of security offered in by colonial society.  As Edelman argues, such a type of identification is unthinkable in the settler world of the colonial future, and instead is outside the only possible accepted world, that of “fighting for the children.”[4]

As I think through these moments of violence, of protest, and of rupture as a historian, I offer not a simple set of solutions or strategies, but a reminder that these are contestations in real time over who belongs, and over the very stakes of who can claim a future.  The Potchefstroom campus where the pride flag incident occurred, of course, is not exempt from its own settler histories.  Before its 2004 merger with other campuses to create North-West University, Potchefstroom was a historically white and Afrikaans religious institution, and could boast F.W. de Klerk and Pieter Mulder (of Freedom Front Plus) among its alumni.  The transformation of a campus that existed explicitly for the promotion of an Afrikaner Christian minority into part of the third largest university system in a democratic South Africa undoubtedly also creates a systematic series of anxieties about future, belonging, and place for a variety of stakeholders.  I am not arguing explicitly that the perpetrator must therefore be an aggrieved member who feels that they are losing power or place within society. I am, however, specifically arguing that the Potch incident also underlines larger questions about the future and who asserts claims of belonging.  Edelman, Cohen, and Butler all apply in thinking about the futurity and the histories of exclusion that animate a campus, even in its ostensible post-transformation moment.

Thus, the larger question I offer in light of these three incidents are not how could these things happen, but rather, how do Carleton, LAUSD, and Potch all cause us to think about the larger and more immediate stakes of belonging? These are more than just minor debates over flags and education, they are about who can and will exist in frameworks created by colonial violence. 

------

BIO: T.J. Tallie is an Associate Professor of African History at the University of San Diego.  They are the author of Queering Colonial Natal: Indigeneity and the Violence of Belonging in Southern Africa (Minnesota, 2019).

[1] Cathy J. Cohen, “Punks, Bulldaggers, and Welfare Queens: The Radical Potential of Queer Politics?,” GLQ: A Journal of Lesbian and Gay Studies 3, no. 4 (May 1997): 437–65.

[2] Lee Edelman, No Future: Queer Theory and the Death Drive (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 2004).

[3] Judith Butler, “Imitation and Gender Subordination,” in Inside/Out: Lesbian Theories, Gay Theories, ed. Diana Fuss, illustrated edition (New York: Routledge, 1991), 312–13.

[4] Edelman, No Future, 2–3.