#to well. Da Bloodshed Stuff

[a1to-and-scientific-witchery]

i have SO many thoughts abt these silly fictional guys that i have been Keeping to myself apparently bc i'm afraid of expressing it openly and coming off the wrong way in the friend groups i'm normally in OOPS!

[clownsuu]

Just a lil doodles smhhhh

cw: mentions of violence and distress. Also weapons-

This is probably a good time to mention everyone’s jobs since I keep forgetting to mention it JDHDGDH

Wally: Da Boss (yeah no shid) he isn’t that merciful of a boss- can be very brutal with how relentless he can be and is a bit of a (non sus) sadistic a s s sometimes. Usually is playfully humorous initially, but can quickly go sour if he feels ever so slightly ticked. Preferred weapon: his eyes and his arms.

Barnaby: Body guard, boss’s left hand man, usually the one who talks for the boss. Sometimes he’s even seen as the “unofficial” boss of the whole group (which he likes to humor sometimes) but in the end he is possibly the most loyal out of everyone to Wally (man’s best friend after all). Preferred weapon is “da biggest gun we got!!!”

Howdy: Butler, bartender, boss’s right hand man. Will do basically everything anyone says (who’s part of the family) without question, however he will always take the Boss’s requests as main priority over the others. This will often keep him awake and exhausted, and a few new stitches to add to his collection. He has the lowest ability to think freely. Preferred weapon: Ice pick

Julie: Hitman A, interrogator, mad scientist really. Killing isn’t really too much of her thing, she prefers methodical planning and slow suffering with the use of chemicals and even random substances she can get her lil paws on. She’s not afraid to use anyone as a test subject, even if it’s her own members. preferred weapon: tranquilizers

Sally: Hitman B, intimidator, c h a o s. Almost the complete opposite to Julie. Absolutely chaotic and adores violent bloodshed to a point it’s theatrical. Usually is called if they don’t really need a clean kill. Can often be seen dancing and listening to music while on the job, often says it helps her focus (nobody really argues with it). Preferred weapon: anything blunt and/or violently loud (tasers, rocket launchers, fireworks) (sally is banned from using rocket launchers)

Poppy: Medic, crime scene cleanup, voice of reason, sometimes chef. She does ok when it comes to clean ups and stuff, however she has panic attacks and gets terrified when ever she hears screams of pain/torture, and freezes. Typically Howdy is there to help her snap out of it and help her complete her work, if not do her work for her. Everyone, even including the boss, is there to support her when she’s distressed (everyone would hug her except Wally. He does not like being touched unless it’s Howdy or Barnaby). Preferred weapon: n/a

Eddie: Messenger, delivery pick up/drop off, handler of the goods. He usually goes by himself, however after an incident where he lost his arm from a deal gone wrong, he is now required to leave with at least one of the hitmen (typically Sally). Very often does he get hurt in these trips and is usually always saved by Sally. Absolutely adores Frank for always trying to find the safest routes for him and wishes they had time together alone. Preferred weapon: a simple revolver

Frank: In charge of ordering goods, making contacts, being a voice of reason, basically just a manager. The most stressed member of the group. Rarely is he seen outside of the headquarters unless it’s to talk to well known individuals. He doesn’t usually talk to anyone besides Howdy (ranting at the bar about people), Eddie (telling him what he needs to get next), and Julie (normal convos and her asking him to order new chemicals for her next project). Every time Frank thinks he has an intimate moment together alone with Eddie, out of the blue Eddie would just randomly talk about how much he loves the family and how Wally is so amazing. The next day Frank asks him about it, it seems Eddie doesn’t remember what happened yesterday. Frank has the highest ability to think freely. Preferred weapon: a simple glock.

Home: Voice of reason. Preferred weapon: Wally

[enbeemagical]

Idk if this is a good time for it but I've been working on a queer fantasy story for over a year now. Sapphic romance. Brown trans enby lead. Resistance against a fascist empire. Y'know. Standard stuff.

Haven't got all the kinks worked out, need to smooth some things out in this round of edits and get back to making progress but like. Yeah. This is coming, eventually.

a handful of quotes below the cut

Thus the Empire of Light began. It was an era known for peace, its birth marked by blood and slaughter. Peace reigned as the Emperor demanded it, his word made law through fear and bloodshed when his propaganda was insufficient. It was not to last.

A thrill raced through my body at her touch, the whisper of her breath on my palm. “Yes,” I promised. “I’ll see you then.” On impulse, I pulled away, dropped to the ground to find the fallen rose. There, it wasn't even squished. I offered it to her with my best attempt at a charming look, extending my arm like a storybook prince. “Til then, take this.

“She’s scared,” Fionnuala said frankly. “Her heart’s been broken before and she’s scared to let it happen again.”

“Hope you don’t mind,” Vida mumbled in my ear, sounding more than half asleep. I snuggled into her and fell asleep with a smile on my lips.

Another sigh, sounding almost as if she were bracing for something. “Love, look. Feelings, the deep ones, they’re hard for me. I don’t know that I’ve ever had anything more lasting than a passing fancy, and you–” Her voice cracked. “You deserve better.” “You already said you want to be friends, you don’t need to explain that twice.” “No– love, listen.” Vida’s hand caught my chin as she leaned over me. “What I’m trying to say is, I’d like to try, if you still want to.”

“How can you laugh?” Fiachra teased. “Da’s got no idea what to do with another boy around! He’ll be so lost.”

Wasn't I… well, traitorous was the only word I could think of. I'd practiced magic without a license, and whether I was a girl in love with a girl, or a boy who'd been born a girl… or, maybe, neither… what I wasn't was the good daughter I was supposed to be. Maybe I was a shadow too.

Ceri’s dark eyes reminded me of an inquisitive beetle I’d found on the edge of the water bucket when I was a girl. It hadn’t meant to be any trouble, it had just been there. I’d watched it, entranced by its shining black carapace, until my mother came to see what was taking me so long. She’d screamed and slammed the bucket to the ground upside down, killing the beetle and causing me to burst into tears. Later, she’d said she was only scared.

“That’s entirely fair. Are you ready?” A bubble of laughter squeezed its way up. “No. Do it.”

“That’s politics, Shadow. One aspect of it, anyways. Changing the world, little by little.”

“Wasn’t there another way?” Ciaran was silent for a few seconds before he admitted, “Perhaps. Perhaps there was. But I still feel the world is no worse off for the loss of him, and I cannot find it in me to regret it.”

“Don’t you ever want to do something you’re not supposed to? Love the wrong way, be the wrong person, want the wrong things?”

**bonus mention to two scenes friends specifically liked that were a bit longer than I wanted for this, the "Would you love me if I were a worm?" "Yes but also please don't be a worm. ew" conversation, and the "hot" meeting scene where one character puts her finger on another's lips and says "I want you knowing you're in your right mind for this [kiss]"**

[leiflitter]

Slams ask for "Sometimes the hardest part is forgiving yourself" for Els and Gale!!

EEEEE let's GO

"How are you so... unphased by it all?"

Els' feet were propped up on Gale's thigh as she stared into the fire. Her expression was soft, a peace at odds with their circumstances. Gale hadn't been much for adventure before this- of all his companions, he was the greenest. The least familiar with the violence that the world kept throwing at them. Their initial battles against the goblins had been overwhelming, but he had expected things to become gentler once the threat was over.

Instead they seemed to be escalating. Perhaps it was because they had Lae'Zel with them, but their ill-fated foray into the gith crèche had left a sour taste in his mouth.

Els shrugged. She rolled her head so she could look at him, roused from her stupor. "Might need you to be a little more specific about that. It all covers a lot of stuff."

"The killing, mostly."

He had expected snuffing out a life to have weight to it. Everything he'd ever read made it sound so life changing, but the bloodshed had become routine alarmingly quickly. He didn't enjoy it- hoped Els didn't, but-

"I forgot you were all safe before this, up in Wizard City." She shuffled up a little, propping herself up on her elbows. "Yeah, the orb- but you..."

She sighed, removing her feet from his leg and sitting up. Els ran a hand through her hair, leaving it even more of a tufty mess than it had been. "How old were you when you saw your first dead body?"

He had to think. "Maybe... my grandmother's funeral? I was eleven, I think."

The bard nodded sagely. "That sounds about right. I was four. Fella who worked with my da, felling trees- his axe lodged in a trunk and he tugged a little too hard trying to pull it out. So-"

She made a grim, squelching sound, a flat hand miming an axe blade lodging in her skull. "You never lived alongside death before. I mean, we've both died, but one dance doesn't make a marriage. For your folks, death's this grand, strange visitor. For me- for most of us here- death's as common and as familiar as rats."

She placed a reassuring hand on his knee. "It does get easier. First time I had to kill someone I was a mess for a month- and that was some drunken bandit on the road. You've been dragged through a sea of goblins and gith- a real rude awakening by any account."

He hadn't expected an answer both so blasé and insightful. Neither had he expected Els to have killed before this- although she certainly hadn't seemed new to it. Perhaps it was a matter of perception- he had always thought of a Killer as some dangerous, shadowy figure. A storybook villain.

Well, this journey was consistently broadening his perspectives, at least.

"How did you... get past it? The being a mess. I don't want any residual guilt to put anyone in danger, and I don't think we'll have a respite from it until our quest is at an end."

Her face split in her familiar smile. "Sometimes... the hardest part is forgiving yourself. But it'll be easier. Not nice, but it's a hard world out here. If it's necessary for us to survive, then I can't regret it."

[300iqprower]

Since Septem was mentioned a week ago I have an excuse to say that Lu Bu was the one utterly screwed by it. Darius is glorified in Fate, and at the very least has a decent-ish role in Septem. Boudica had her time in Solomon’s Temple, as well as some event appearances. Lu Bu in Septem is all we fuckin get, ever, and he only shows up for two sections one of which involving him dying instantly to Altera.

He’s actually one of my favorite characters so it brings me so much pain to see him actually ignored, even when we go to China in lostbelt 3 where Chen Gong and Red Hare are featured we summon Mordred instead for some reason.

He doesn’t even get any attentions in events, his most iconic role was that time he adopted Fran in the knk event and even that has been taken over by Moriarty.

While I wouldn't consider anything Darius and Boduica got “content” - I don't even remember what Darius did in Septem and Boudica’s “moment” in Solomon was pretty blatantly them trying to retcon and excuse away how badly she was written - I do agree that Lu Bu has had even less attention. He’s barely above whatever tier Proto Cu and Erik are on, and I know that’s accurate because I actually only a few days ago realized he was in Septem at all after thinking “wait, is Lu Bu the only non FSN f2p unit who’s never been in a story chapter?” (side note, that’s actually Salome. If you’re picky it’s also Proto Cu and KoGil)

Honestly rather than replace Mordred with Lu Bu (they should have cut Mordred entirely and given proper focus to Nezha) they should have left Chen Gong and Red Hare out of SIN and make one of the serious events (Sea Monster Crisis, Little Big Tengu, Case Files, Ooku, etc) about the three kingdoms. Like a singularity where something throws it off to turn it into an eternal conflict and china and never truly unified. Make it so we go around with Gao as our ‘advisor’ with a focus on working with Lu Bu and Chen to end things. Due to his role as the Wild Card of the Three Kingdoms so to speak, Lu gets a conceptual advantage and becomes our trump card in putting a stop to everything. Red Hare can be the comic relief as per usual.

For new servants we can have: -SR human Guan Yu or SSR deified Guan Yu, either as lancer. -Cao Cao as SSR Saber/Rider. -We can also put in Diaochan as the obligatory new waifu, presumably a caster or assassin. -Zhurong if there’s a waifu quota to be met, Archer or Saber? -Caster Zhong Kui

All of them also work as a villain depending on how it would play out, from Deity Guan Yu being a sort of reverse Quirinus to Cao Cao gone mad to Diaochan being evil and sewing chaos like Lu Bu without caring about him any more, or Zhurong being an envoy of the god she takes her name from/some sort of evil revenge driven version of Lakshmi. OR it could be that Zhong Kui is our welfare, and what’s happened is that legions of vengeful spirits created and fueled by all the bloodshed of the warring states have possessed those like Guan Yu and Cao Cao and created an endless cycle of warfare. 

...but see also: Da Ji. Since they decided to fuck up Vitch’s plotline that at least means we could get a true Da Ji servant, something like she made the conflict eternal so she could terrorize china forever. Though I suppose that’d make it weird to not bring Jiang Ziya into things...but then again, Lu Bu is established as despising Tamamo sooooo-

Welfare could be human Guan Yu, Diaochan, Zhong Kui, or Zhurong, again all depending on exactly what the focus is and how it’d play out.  Other servants who could appear for more minor things: - Quiche, i’m sure he’d loathe how many potential rulers of china there are lol - Xiang Yu, for pretty obvious reasons both in regards to historical and nasuverse stuff - Zhuge Lliang, especially if Zhurong is involved. A good chance to finally have Zhuge take control for once. - Iskandar, i’m sure he’d have a field day with this “infinite lands to conquer” - Lakshmi/Trung Sisters due to both their proximity and similar struggle. - Wu Zeitan and Scheherazade, Agartha was Agarbage but that doesn’t mean they can’t make use of that similar experience to properly build on them, especially with Wu being a chinese servant and Scheherzade's parallels to the novelization of Three Kingdoms - Yang Guffei particularly if Da Ji and/or Wu appear. -Geronimo and Robin for both their guerilla warfare and if Zhurong is there their representation of underdogs trampled on by war.

Honestly stupid as it is the 6.5 Lostbelt has me wondering if we might still one day get a three kingdoms event. It seems like such a major thing to skirt around for so long, which is exactly how everyone felt about the Holy Roman Empire and we got that. Meanwhile while there’s chinese censorship and stuff they still went with Lostbelt 3, so ya know ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

[clairenatural]

destiel, 2k. mafia!Cas/Kingergarten teacher!Dean from an anon prompt for mafia!dean or Cas protecting the other at all costs. I’m not entirely sure what this turned into but it was fun to write so I hope it’s also fun to read :) it references stuff that happens in 12x10, Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets.

“Sir, we have a problem.”

Castiel sighs. His five least favorite words. He glances up, frowning at Inias. “What kind of problem?” He doesn’t add that it had better be important to justify the younger man barging into his office like this, but it’s implied.

Inias takes a deep breath before stepping fully into the room, letting Castiel’s glass office door shut behind him. “The DA’s office is refusing to back down on the Ishim case.”

“And you paid them the standard amount?”

“Yes, sir. But one of the DDAs refused it.”

“Refused it.”

“He’s new. He doesn’t understand our arrangement.”

“Hm.” Castiel closes his laptop and leans back in his chair, considering both the situation and the man in front of him. They hadn’t had a problem with the DA in years—at least, not since Castiel had taken over. Their messes were less messy and they paid more generously for silence. “How much does he need to understand?”

“That’s the problem, sir. I don’t think he will.”

Castiel scoffs. “Anyone in power can be bought off,” he replies, because in all his years he’d never met someone who couldn’t be. Power corrupts, after all.

Inias shifts uneasily, and Castiel can tell he isn’t going to like how this ends.

“We’ve received word that he’s begun investigating independently.”

Castiel groans at this, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“But don’t worry!” Inias continues quickly, hurridly. “We can put our best men on the assignment, have him taken care of by tonight—”

“Wait,” Castiel cuts him off with a sigh. He forces his eyes back open. “I’m not mad,” he says before anything else, because Inias looks like a deer in the headlights and even after all this time his employees still need occasional reminding that he is not his brothers.

When he’d taken over for Michael he’d promised himself—he’d promised everyone—less bloodshed. He swore to defend his family, business, and territory from Crowley and his cronies, but he’d been determined to stop ending innocent lives. For some reason, though, innocents just love getting in the way. He sighs again. “What’s his name?”

“Sam Winchester.”

And, well. That certainly complicates things. He’d known when Sam announced he was going into criminal law that this was a possibility—in some ways, he thinks he should have expected this.

“Sir?” Inias asks, and Castiel realizes he doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at him. “Are you…do you know him?”

Castiel blinks back to reality and glares at him. “Call them off,” he orders, and cuts Inias off when he tries to protest. “Call them all off, Inias. Now.”

“But, sir, what about—”

“I’ll deal with Sam Winchester myself. Nobody else is to touch him.” Then, just for emphasis, “Until I say otherwise, consider him under my protection.”

Inias is still staring at him, baffled, but after a moment he nods, and Castiel is thankful that he’s decided not to argue. “Alright, I—yes. Understood.” He nods again before leaving the office and Castiel sinks deep into his chair, pressing the heels of his hands into both eyes.

His phone buzzes and Castiel watches as a text message lights up the screen, revealing the photo from his wedding he has set as his background. It’s a message from Dean, because of course it is, asking him what he wants for dinner and if he wants wine with it.

Castiel looks around his office, awarded to him based on his surname but paid for in blood, and he’s never hated it more.  

————————————————————-

They get half an hour into the low-budget western Dean had insisted in watching before his husband sighs, pauses the movie, and sets his wine glass down on the coffee table.  “What’s going on with you?”

Castiel frowns up at him from where he’s lying on the couch, cheek against Dean’s thigh, his own wine glass barely touched. All things considered, Castiel thinks he’s been doing a great job acting like everything is fine. He forgets, sometimes, how easily Dean can read him.

“Work was…long,” he answers, and it isn’t a lie. Then, because Dean is looking at him like he doesn’t believe him, he follows up with “How’s Sam?”

It’s both a deflection and an answer to Dean’s question, but Dean doesn’t know that. Dean thinks he manages a hedge fund. Which he does. Technically. Legally, at least.

Dean knows he’s changing the subject but he doesn’t press it, and his face lights up the way it always does when someone asks about his brother. Castiel loves him for it. Dean starts on about Sam, how he’s doing with Eileen, how they just moved into a bigger house because they want to start a family. Castiel isn’t paying attention, not really, because Dean’s fingers are playing with his hair and he doesn’t really want to think about anything else.

“—I said I’d help him out, though.”

That catches his attention. “What? Why?” he asks, a bit too quickly, because even though he’s missed most of the context he can’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach.

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Come on, babe. I never get to use my degree anymore.” He shrugs. “And it sounds fun, you know? Helping my baby brother take down a corrupt criminal justice system. I feel like Serpico.”

“No.” It comes out more forcefully than he had intended and he sits up, turning fully to face Dean. “No, Dean, you need to stay out of it.”

Dean blinks at his husband, and Castiel immediately backtracks. “I mean, um. You don’t—you don’t have any evidence.”

“That’s the point of me helping,” Dean rolls his eyes. “I know I chose teaching five-year-olds over working in cybersecurity, but I still know my way around.”

“You’re going to hack into the DA’s office?”

“It sounds bad when you put it like that.”

“It is bad.” Castiel knows he’s being too insistent, is pushing too hard, but Dean can’t get involved, too. He can’t. “It’s dangerous. You don’t know who else could be involved.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“You should. You just don’t understand—”

“Understand what, Cas?” Dean snaps, and now it’s the fight Castiel didn’t want to have. “What could I possibly not understand that you do? A kid is dead and the DA is trying to cover it up and just maybe I can help figure out why.”

“There are things you don’t—” Castiel is already halfway through his next argument when the second half of Dean’s sentence catches up with him, and he stops. “Did you say a kid?”

Dean scoffs. “You weren’t even listening, right? Great. Yeah, some asshole killed his ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend and her kid and the DA is refusing to press charges. Says there isn’t enough evidence. Sam thinks they were paid off.”

“No,” he says, quietly, because no. The daughter was never supposed to—that’s not what happened. He had been told that’s not what happened.

“What do you mean, no?” There’s less heat in Dean’s words, and Castiel thinks it’s because he himself has completely deflated.

He stares at his husband—the love of his life, the beautiful, generous, selfless man he doesn’t deserve—and realizes he’s never going to be able to talk Dean down from this. If he could, he wouldn’t be Dean.

He thinks about all he’s done to keep this part of his life safely tucked away. He cultivated a reclusive public image to keep Dean safe from being the husband of Castiel Novak, manager of the Novak Group. He expanded their territory to encompass the school Dean works at, something his family still holds against him as a waste of resources, to protect him from being the husband of Castiel Novak, leader of the crime syndacate. He’s hidden his marriage from nearly the entire family, labeling anything to do with Dean as the most privileged of information.

The only reason he’s still doing this at all, really, is Dean. He could have jumped ship when Michael died, when Gabriel left, when Lucifer took the fall and was sentenced to life, but that meant giving everything to Raphael, who promised to hunt both him and Dean down if he left. So he took the reins instead and he’s tried his best to keep his family safe while managing the business—both the above and underground aspects.

And now, despite all that, both Dean and his brother have somehow gotten themselves involved.

Dean is still staring at him, brows furrowed, and he doesn’t move away when Castiel reaches out to take both of his hands into his own. “I’m sorry,” he starts, and Dean looks taken aback but he doesn’t break the eye contact. “I love you. I don’t want you to end up in trouble.”

Something in Dean’s eyes softens. “Hey,” He squeezes Castiel’s hands lightly. “Come on. Have a little faith in me.”

And all Castiel can do, just like any time Dean looks at him like that, is smile back. And nod. And lean forward to kiss him, just once, softly.

“I do, Dean. I always do.”

Dean leans their foreheads together and Castiel can tell he’s still concerned, but he doesn’t want there to be any more yelling tonight, so instead he pulls back to lie down in Dean’s lap again. He hears Dean sigh before picking up the remote with the hand not still intertwined with Castiel’s, and then he restarts the movie, and Castiel tries not to think for the rest of the night.

 ————————————————————-

The next morning, though, he’s storming into his office, ready to lay into anyone involved with lying to him. He doesn’t get far—Naomi is sitting in his chair. At his desk. For a brief moment, he sees red.

“That’s my chair.”

His aunt regards him, cool as ever. “Is it?” she asks, and she stands, but only to walk around the desk and into his space. “And who gave it to you?” In her heels she’s taller than him but he glares anyway, refusing to be intimidated. He doesn’t respond.

“Why are you protecting Sam Winchester?” she asks after a moment of silence, still standing just as close.

“Why did you lie to me about the incident with Ishim?”

Naomi’s expression doesn’t change, but something close to surprise flickers across her eyes and she backs off to lean against his desk. “I suspect the answer to both of those questions is the same.”

“May Sunder was never supposed to die,” he presses, not backing down, and Naomi looks at him as if he’s being an unruly child.

“Yes, but her mother threatened to go to the police. Come now, Castiel, you’re old enough to understand these things.”

“I never authorized that.”

Naomi stands again. “You think you have to?”

This, of all things, catches him off-guard. “I—yes?”

His aunt steps forward, crowding him again, and he hates himself for taking a step back. “You’re a figurehead, Castiel. You’re in power because you’re Michael’s brother, people like you, and we thought you’d at least be loyal.”

“I am loyal,” he retorts, and she sighs.

“I’m not the only one who’s begun to question your sympathies, Castiel. Who are you loyal to?”

“My family.”

“Does that mean us? Or Dean Winchester?”

Castiel freezes, stunned. “How—”

Naomi cuts him off with a smile. “You think we don’t know? We’ve been letting you play house because it kept you distracted. Now, it seems, it’s making you weak. If you don’t fix this, I’ll have no choice but to cure you of that weakness.”

At last she steps away and turns towards the door. “You have an army here, Castiel. Don’t lose it for one man.”

And then she leaves.

And then, Castiel makes a decision.

In the next few hours, he makes several more—and then he’s driving home with all his family’s secrets copied onto a hard drive, the few items from his office that he actually cares about, and a plan forming on how to take the whole system down.

It’s almost funny, he thinks, the decision Naomi expected him to make—that she’d expected him to choose the family over Dean. That she’d expected him to choose anything over Dean.

She has no idea what’s coming. 

[arianakristine]

Title: Between the Shadow and the Soul, Chapter 17 Note: Beginning a form break, this one takes place just a little before Chapter 16.

*

*

                It starts of dreams of warm.

               He wakes, puzzled, wondering why his skin feels sun-kissed whilst in the depths of his tent, in the middle of a snow-filled forest. The strange feeling lingers, through all wind-swept days and bitter nights. It goes like this for days.

               He doesn’t often dream. That’s not exactly true; he has dreams now and then, but they are more memories tied with his fears. The peace he gets from sleep is from the dreamless nights, and the best are when she is in his arms and he doesn’t have the need to dream at all. This is why it has been disconcerting these past few weeks in the middle of a battlefield, his subconscious mind slowly blurring strange visions for him to ponder through in the daytime.

               After awhile, the dreams evolved. They had shaped into feelings, contented and soft and loved. Foggy and unnatural but comforting, he had woken to the feeling that something intangible was slipping through his fingers. It is similar to when he reaches for her; something about her magic makes her presence available for his to seek even from a distance. So, he will wake and connect with her, feeling her search for him in turn, and it is almost the feeling he has when asleep.

               But not quite.

He’s spent days fighting as if he were fighting for that feeling. He sought the connection to her that lays deep within him as he drifted to sleep, comparing. At least with this he can always feel her safety and he can be contented with that. The dreams are close, indeed, enough to know they connect to her, but not the same. There was something he was missing in being separated from her physically.

               Slowly, the visions shaped, hazy at first. Always the same, never quite reachable. Greenry and warmth, the smell of dew, and above all else love. It makes him yearn for sleep during the day when all he finds in the light is bloodshed and anger.

               Last night had been the clearest yet. Again, he found himself at the riverbed that Emma loves. He used to associate it with Fionn, with his childhood. Now, he sees her smile and her mussed curls and her sparkling eyes whenever he imagines it. It is no wonder that he sees blonde whenever this place appears, but his vision had finally cleared to full view.

There had been the small blonde child on its banks, just as there had been all time times before. She was in a pale yellow dress in expensive fabrics, colors of the earth painting the hem as she fished rocks from the mud and then laid in the tall grasses and wildflowers, the sweet sound of her laughter muted by the rustling wind and flowing river. He had thought her to be Emma in all his other dreams; perhaps imagining her as she was, in an innocent time, a fleeting wish against the death and destruction of battle. But finally on this night he could see that her eyes did not match, not the same chin nor the same nose. But as she stretched her arms out to reach for him, her smile … it was Emma’s smile exactly.

               He stumbles to his feet, breaths hard as he glances wildly around the empty tent. He sucks in a deep breath and braces against the table next to his cot. He is no stranger to magic, but he has never had it touch on him this way before. It is pure but fragile, its fingerprint barely noticeable but enough that he is sure it is not just fantasy.  

               He is certain, as much as if he had been told. The child … the child is Emma’s. Emma is pregnant.

               He waits, his face wet with tears as he blinks rapidly, grappling with the knowledge. He inhales a long breath, and he waits for the regret and guilt to fill him.

The things are inevitable, right? After all, he’s put Emma, put this precious child, in danger just by allowing the treason to go on for so long. It is his fault for allowing it, for continuing to love his princess and to lose himself in her as often as he did. He should have known better, to insist on the distance and let her find someone more suited. It is what he’s been sure of through the entirety of their relationship: that though he loves her with every fiber of himself, theirs is not one for a happy ending. Now that he has given her a child, something to tie her to him for life, he must feel guilt.

               Instead, he feels as a softer, outlandish feeling makes his heart swell. Theirs. They created someone new out of themselves. No matter what happens to him next, there will be a little girl that is half of him, that is half of her. The part of his soul that can feel Emma can now recognize the tiny imprint of their child as well.  

               She must know now, too, must’ve known well before. It has been at least ten weeks since they last saw each other, and she must be at least that long pregnant if not further. How must’ve she reacted? Do her parents know well by now, would they know of him? The last thought should snap his focus, but instead he warms. He pictures how Emma must look, how her belly must round to accommodate their baby, and his heart squeezes.

               A smile crosses his face, slow and steady, and he trickles out a laugh as more tears slide down his face. He is happy. For all he shouldn’t be, he is happy.

               He hears a distant shout from outside, followed by a quick burst of laughter, and he sobers immediately. Right. It is morning. The men are awake and preparing for another round of battle. The men he leads that hate him, fighting against the men that believe in Regina.

               He growls to himself and drags his hand over his face. He suddenly feels a dagger of worry pierce him: Snow’s progeny. His daughter … she will be Snow’s granddaughter, the stuff of prophecy. Regina will use everything in her powers to be sure that child will never be born, will hurt Emma to see to it.

               White-hot rage piques within him, until he cannot see straight. His feelings of happiness are covered by the instinct to protect, to eliminate all that may threaten the only two beings in this world that he loves.

He will kill her first. Before she has a chance to even turn her eye towards Emma, he will kill her. If he needed another reason to see her dead, this is more than enough. The tent is stifling, and he wants to tear through the entirety of the rebellion to get to the Usurper.

               Another part of him insists that he needs to be home. He needs to be with Emma. He needs to hold her and press his lips to hers until she is breathless, needs to tell her how much he loves her and how much he loves their daughter already. He needs to be there to protect them, to fight back anyone that so much as looks at her with ill-intent.

               And he cannot do either of these things, not in a timely manner, because of these imbeciles that believe in a monster.

               He can’t seem to get a handle on his emotions. He hasn’t had this little control since he was young, and knows it is not smart. He needs to get his head on straight before he can think of charging into battle once again.

               He rips out of the tent. The cold wind scatters across the tears on his face, and he ducks his head as he shuffles outside. The sky is still dotted in stars, dawn barely approaching. He rushes to the tree line, away from the bulk of the garrison gathering in the meadow. He leans his head against the trunk and rocks his head back and forth, willing himself to calm down.

               They are safe for now. He reminds himself of that a few more times, over and over. For now, they are safe.

               “Huntsman?”

               He turns sharply, finding a single man huddled next to a small fire several yards away. His shoulders relax somewhat, and he inclines his head. “Roland. I—I was just collecting myself.”

               The other man shakes his head and gestures to the stone opposite the fire. “Go ahead.”

               He hesitates, and then sets himself down. At least in this company, he is welcome.

Both the younger and the elder Locksley have been strangely kind to him. The best he has ever been shown before has been wariness, with Snow and David included. It remains foreign to find the trust so simply earned in another human, let alone two. The elder had made some crack about always trusting fellow archers, even though it was clearly not the end of whatever caused his inclination. Roland had followed his father’s intuition, and in the past weeks they had found a comradery despite everything.

               If there are ever any humans to be around for his emotions to settle, it will be him.

               “Nightmares?”

               He looks up, startled by the ventured question. He reaches up and feels the tears still on his face. “Oh,” he murmurs simply, and sighs.

               Roland pokes at the fire with a stick and bobs his head. “There is enough fodder for that, I think.”

               “No, no, it’s not that,” he denies, and rubs the back of his neck. He swallows. “Just … dreams.”

               Roland’s dark eyes raise, and he tilts his head. “Dreams?” he questions.

               He tosses a handful of bramble into the fire. He stares into the flames and, despite himself, can feel a smile edge along his lips once again as he pictures her. Again, he reaches for them within himself, finding the swell of their presence in him. “Dreams,” he confirms, and then rubs the spot over his heart. “A future.”

               Roland relaxes and levels a piece of meat over the flames. “Ah, I see. I have heard of these kinds of dreams before.”

               He looks up, and his brow furrows. He is sure he was being vague enough. “What do you mean?”

               The other man smiles. “You are a hard one to read, Captain, and I would assume that it would take a certain kind of dream to pull such emotion from you.” He grabs another stick and begins to thread the meat over it, but Graham shakes his head.

               “I thank you, but I find myself not hungry this morning.”

               “Nonsense,” Roland protests and continues without pause. “We are nearer to the towns today and so the battle will be fierce. You need fuel if you expect to take them on.”

               “I—” he pauses, and finally nods. “Thank you.”

               He gives a short nod in response. “I think that the codebreaker has a better handle on the intel,” Roland continues, his dark eyes reflecting the flames in the bare dawn. He raises his gaze to him and offers a weak smile. “We might have the chance to steal back the hearts, if not today then tomorrow.”

               Graham is silent a beat, considering. The news is promising, but he remains cautious. “I do find your optimism refreshing,” he offers. They had been pushed closer to Misthaven’s borders, something that had kept him out of his mind with worry. But if Roland’s optimism is to be matched and they are able to turn the tides of this battle so soon, then he should be home to her in a few days’ time rather than the weeks it took to get to the front.

               Roland smiles fully and rocks a hand back and forth through his wild hair. “Optimism it may be, but not for long. I have a good feeling on this,” he says ardently. “It should be key in swaying favor. Once hearts begin returning, they must see how we fight for them, how the Usurper does not. The war could be ended in days instead of months.”

He smiles at the man, and considers him a moment. Sometimes Graham reminds himself that this is the type of man Emma should be with. Roland is closer to her age and he is kind and passionate, willing to fight for his beliefs. He is a good man and a good match, and Graham would even be happy to see him with her.

               At least, that’s what he’s tried to convince himself of. He’s less willing to try and persuade himself of that today, knowing that he will be coming home to more than he expected.

               Roland hands him over the food and grins slyly. “We could be on our way to our future as soon as then.”

               Graham warms, but says nothing as he takes the offered meat.

               “That is what you dreamt of, isn’t it?” Roland asks seriously. “The future that will indeed come to pass?”

               He freezes and meets his gaze warily.

               “My father used to speak of these dreams, of ones he had when my mother was alive.”

               Graham takes in his words a long moment. “You assume too much, here,” he says lowly in denial.

               His smile changes slightly, a little more knowing. “Perhaps. But I think you will know what I am speaking of when I say that my father began to dream of a future, of a very specific, very handsome child, just as his love learned of her pregnancy.”

               His jaw tightens. He doesn’t say anything to confirm or to deny, but he feels the stir of alarm.

               Roland seems to notice his tension, and his posture opens, nonthreatening. “They had true love, my parents. They were both as committed to justice as they were to each other, though, which was the cause of her ultimate demise,” he says softly.

               Graham stiffens, and he remembers the lovely woman who shared her son’s eyes. He hadn’t been the one to execute Regina’s command, but he had tended to her in the prisons. She hadn’t a name then, just another prisoner in the long list Regina kept. It was only after piecing together stories from the King, Queen, and the Locksleys that he knows that she was Marian.

               Without a heart, he couldn’t admire her the way he can now, but he had felt something akin to that, mutedly. She had stood strong throughout her imprisonment, her lips sealed even at the ledge of the stocks. She had resolve, and would not be moved by Regina’s threats and actions.

He knows he would do the same as she, to lay down his life for his family, for Snow White’s family, so he cannot think of her as anything but heroic. He wonders, morbidly, if this path will be as optimistic as her son believes, or if he will only live on in his child as his mother does in Roland.

               He finds that he is again too selfish to hope for it. He does not want to die for them; he wants to live for them. And this time, he doesn’t merely wish for a few heartbeats of more time with her, he wants a lifetime with them. It is the first time he allows himself such a hope, even if there is part of him preparing to witness her happiness from a distance as he had always assumed he would.

               Roland shakes his head, and takes a bite of his food. “I know what they say about you, Captain. But I think if there is enough in a dream of ‘a future’ to cause that much emotion, I believe it must be because you love someone back home as much as my father loved my mother.”

               His face heats, and he wonders when he became so easily read. Again, his hand shifts over his heart, rubbing the spot carefully. “I cannot say for certain,” he says simply, not quite a lie. While he can barely admit it to himself and certainly has not confirmed it to anyone, he knows he shares true love with Emma. But he knows nothing about the love Robin and Marian shared.

               Roland leans back and chuckles slightly, a knowing grin on his face. He doesn’t press further, and instead raises his gaze past him. The soldiers are steadily rising, the sun cresting over the hill. “It appears our breakfast time is nearing its end. Are you prepared for another bout?”

               He shifts and drops the skewer to the side of the pit. “As ever,” he says, and then meets his gaze seriously. “Keep to the trees. The villagers are not adept in hand-to-hand battle, but some should be hunters with enough knowledge of weaponry. Be sure you know your angles, know what spots will keep you protected.”

               He nods and rises. He hesitates a moment before dropping a hand on his shoulder. “You as well. We have our futures to meet, Huntsman.”

               He inclines his head and pats his hand in acknowledgement. He makes his way back to his tent, ready to don his armor and level another command over his garrison.

               Maybe his future will be met sooner than he thinks.

*

               Hours of battle later, and he feels no closer to the end of this war. The hearts are not to be found per the intel, and thus they are running after rebels without an end goal other than to stamp the rebellion.

               He has seen men on both sides fall at an alarming rate, but he is somehow still fighting. He doesn’t acknowledge exhaustion or pain or the odds. He knows he is the first line of defense for his family, and so his whole heart is thrown into the fight.

               And then he sees her.

               He knows immediately it is her, feels the chill of her presence along his spine like ghostly fingers. Just a flash, and then she is gone into the fog like a specter.

               He flies another arrow into the rebels, and yanks free another from his quill, scanning the field for another glimpse. She is here. They must be close, must be nearing the endgame if she has chosen this battle to show herself.

               Swords clash to his right, and he whips to find that the skirmishes have closed in. He looses the last arrow into the rebel grappling with one of his men.

There, again.

Slipping further away, the rebels closer must only be a distraction. It has been decades since he has seen her, but she is burned into his scars. There is a hint of magic along her skirts, hair darkened and skin smoothed by some glamour as not to show her age, making her unmistakable.  

               He spins past the peasants fighting her battles, pulling his sword from his belt. He ignores his bow and his position as he stalks in the direction she took. He slashes through threats along the way but barely sees them, focus narrowed.

               He has a chance. He could end this today.

               He could keep his family safe.

               He trips into a clearing, a dark swath of hair and a ridiculously embellished gown catching the light through the trees. He takes a breath, and silently crosses the tree line to approach her. He feels anticipation curl into his gut as he desperately tries to temper the fury so he can see straight.

She is headed away, but she is slow and fettered. All the threat she had once posed is muted by time. She is unprepared, doesn’t see his approach. His heart hammers within him, caution warring with the feeling that he will win.

The sword he never trusted himself with suddenly the only answer, and he wields it over his head with a strength he didn’t know he possessed. He pictures Emma spinning gracefully through her forms, but knows his is more monstrous than the ones she took.

               Regina turns just in time for his blade to pierce through her middle, and her eyes startle wide. His eyes flash with contentment to see the surprise in hers, as her mouth drops in a silent scream. He twists the blade, hoping that she feels every second of the pain.

               His heart drops when her scream turns to a smile, and her dark eyes sharpen. “Oh, pet. You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

               The sword disappears, dissolving to atom. He stumbles back, hands now empty. He grabs the bow from his shoulder and aims instead, but finds his quiver empty.

               Her lips twist, and her teeth are bright as she grins. She steps away from the tree, hips swaying. “I know it’s been some time, but have you forgotten all that I can do? I’ve waited a long time for these days. There is only one way to be rid of me, and it is not by your hand.”

               “Regina,” he growls, and tightens his grip to turn the bow into a club.

               “Now, now. You are not the one I want, dear,” she purrs. She has that look she used to always have, the one that said that she had the upper hand and would do what she wanted with it.“

               He swings, even knowing it will be useless, a last-ditch effort to keep his future safe. She raises a hand to stop his effort, his whole body frozen as he watches the amusement in her dark gaze. She traces his form with those eyes and her lips curl.

               “But, I will admit, you will be a useful tool in getting me my prize.”

               Her hand comes forward, and his last thought before black encroaches his vision is of his family.

               He will be prepared for whatever future keeps them safe.

[routofpretty]

1. i went to to Liliw, Laguna a few months ago with a fren when summer started and it's v pretty. also linggayen, pangasinan where my brother lives.

2. we don't rly travel and I'm not that fond of it for some reason but I'd love to go to other countries and explore the philppines more too

3. we're a fucking archipelago we got a l l the sea

4. sinigang definitely or tinola or homba (but idk if that's purely filipino my mom makes it and I love it)

5. I don't rly listen to opm but I'm partial to Up Dharma Down

6. jfc Hayaan Mo Sila by Ex Battalion - I stg if I have to hear oNE MORE TIME

7. gago (it's basically akin to like stupid or idiot but also one of the things me and friends call each other a lot because it's true anyway), libre (free - because it's.... who doesn't like free), pusa (cat - just because I like cats)

8. I'm not actually filipino by blood??? my mom is full chinese and my dad is full spanish so a lot of people think I'm some european person

9. I'd love to go to indonesia and singapore

10. ... I curse a lot... but my personal favorite is putangina (motherfcuker/sonofabitxh), and tanga (stupid)

11. I don't rly know any???? (I probably should tbh)

12. they're fine but things always get lost in translation, as with all things. and some things don't go as well when they're translated

13. omg that's a long list. I wasn't raised with them because my fam is kinda religious but imma drop my stupid favorites: if you have a pimple you're in love, if you jump at midnight on new years eve you'll get taller, and if you step on a nuno (I'm not sure about the translation its like a nest near a tree ???????) you have to say excuse me and apologize or else bad shit gonna happen

14. not rly. indie films are actually much better than mainstream media here because (especially local tv) it has a lot of cliche plot points and twists and shitty props and effects

15. softdrinks = coke, toothpaste = colgate, hot chocolate = milo

16. that we're uneducated. it's true the education system kinda sucks but as a country we're very americanized and so we mimic a lot of shit happening there (thankfully not all the shit). and the government is also definitely corrupt.

17. y e s. it's just that when we were studying Philippine history in class our teacher sucked do I did not enjoy it at all but our history is amazing and badass

18. of course. English was my first language but when I started school I learned filipino and boom here I am now constantly surprising people I've just met because 'nagtatagalog ka pala???" (you speak filipino????)

19. yas. my favorite is the sun (on the flag) because it's literally the original eight provinces that stood up for our freedom and das cool

20. Basketball. definitely

21. our president (jkdontkillme) and all the corrupt officials (so basically our entire government)

22. that we're stubborn and will fight for what is right and that if we feel oppressed we protest and that we toppled a dictator without bloodshed. but I'm ashamed of our racism. of our prejudice. of our hypocrisy.

23. tanduay. jk idk. probably beer, either red horse or San Mig

24. we joke about ourselves a lot tbh

25. not rly. but there are times when I wish we had access to certain technologies and stuff that's only available in the west

26. not rly???? like I don't rly see us much but like in all things not white, hollywood could use some tips

27. none tbh. I'm not rly into local showbiz

28. yaaas. the only one I can name is the underground river in palawan it's v pretty. the mountain we were at in Liliw was amazing too but I never got to learn the name

29. mostly just the online north vs south stuff. that south peeps always adjust for north peeps

30. I'm not filipino by blood???? so??? like????? my whole family??????

“hi, I’m not from the US” ask set

given how Americanized this site is, it’s important to celebrate all our countries and nationalities - with all their quirks and vices and ridiculousness, and all that might seem strange to outsiders.

1. favourite place in your country?

2. do you prefer spending your holidays in your country or travel abroad?

3. does your country have access to sea?

4. favourite dish specific for your country?

5. favourite song in your native language?

6. most hated song in your native language?

7. three words from your native language that you like the most?

8. do you get confused with other nationalities? if so, which ones and by whom?

9. which of your neighbouring countries would you like to visit most/know best?

10. most enjoyable swear word in your native language?

11. favourite native writer/poet?

12. what do you think about English translations of your favourite native prose/poem?

13. does your country (or family) have any specific superstitions or traditions that might seem strange to outsiders?

14. do you enjoy your country’s cinema and/or TV?

15. a saying, joke, or hermetic meme that only people from your country will get?

16. which stereotype about your country you hate the most and which one you somewhat agree with?

17. are you interested in your country’s history?

18. do you speak with a dialect of your native language?

19. do you like your country’s flag and/or emblem? what about the national anthem?

20. which sport is The Sport in your country?

21. if you could send two things from your country into space, what would they be?

22. what makes you proud about your country? what makes you ashamed?

23. which alcoholic beverage is the favoured one in your country?

24. what other nation is joked about most often in your country?

25. would you like to come from another place, be born in another country?

26. does your nationality get portrayed in Hollywood/American media? what do you think about the portrayal?

27. favourite national celebrity?

28. does your country have a lot of lakes, mountains, rivers? do you have favourites?

29. does your region/city have a beef with another place in your country?

30. do you have people of different nationalities in your family?

[somethingsomethingdragonage]

asks part 2

anon: I wonder if the fans of other DA characters get this much shit about their "problematic faves". I wonder if the fenris fans are called "ableism apologists" (because fenris is ableist), or aveline fans called "slut shaming apologists" (because aveline is a slut shamer).. or you know, in general being called MURDER apologists since every single one of these characters is a killer one way or another. and pls ppl, dont tell me anders doesn't have regrets or didn't do what he had to do out of fear. 

especially since I didn’t even post any discussion prior to the first message I got? it was just a “fun” post about bioware/Anders and I tagged it with “Anders was right” which is indeed a tag I use. like if I started any kind of argument and discussion I can understand why people would comment on that but because of a pretty normal post? idk. and yes, we should all incorporate a club and we will be called the murder apologists because clearly everyone who is playing games where ppl get killed and not despise every single character for it (including their own character) is a murder apologist.

anon: I'm sorry you're getting so much anon hate.  I hope things start getting better and people learn to separate games from current events a bit more. That being said it's nice to find another Anders fan! :3

well I’m not very optimistic that it’s going to happen because I always knew there where a lot of jerks in the DA fandom and I kinda managed to keep them off my dash for most part. since I’m mostly a DA fandom blog I kinda expect getting some crap from time to time but since my blog title and my present icon should give a pretty clear picture about my views it’s not a lot. and yes, I still think people who are unable to differentiate between fiction and reality shouldn’t play these games. or at least keep clear of discussions. yes you can identify with stuff in games, be it a conflict, a character but whatever. but don’t give other people a hard time for doing that as well because they are real and not game characters. well look at me ranting haha I’m also always happy to meet other fans of my fav mage and I hope you have a great day :)

audacityinblack: Some people seem to forget that Anders did not have *any* basic rights, let alone the right to speak freely or protest. A Divine in the past almost called an exalted march on her own damn Chantry because the mages went on strike. Mages have absolutely no right to protest. And, mage or not, they absolutely can and will hunt you down and kill you if you dissent against them too loudly. Heresy is a punishable offense in Thedas. Torture and execution are normalized parts of the justice system.

This is a system where peaceful protest never works. Only those with privilege and power are allowed to resolve their conflicts without bloodshed or surrendering their basic civil rights. The Daughters of Song were pacifists, they refused to fight. The Chantry fucking slaughtered them all. It's also hard to feel much for the poor innocent humans when the Chantry has been massacring elves and mages for centuries.

The Chantry ain't your kind peaceful neighborhood church. It's effectively a totalitarian theocratic power. I'm of the mind that people who can't see that have never experienced or educated themselves about religious oppression. Really, millennials have their own privilege in that we have a fuck ton more freedom to protest without putting ourselves in danger. Those rights would never have existed if there weren't people willing to fight and die and risk fucking everything.

Yes, Dragon Age is fiction. "You can't separate reality from fiction" is a common argument thrown at and by both sides. However, for a lot of us, this stuff is very much a part of our reality. We've *seen* reality, and often from a lot of angles the writers did not see. The writers' biases are on full display especially in the way that the "other" groups in the game tend to be written as misguided or wrong, while the establishment knows best and anyone who shows otherwise is an "exception."  

For a lot of us, the shit we see in game is terribly reminiscent of things that we have seen in real life, or even lived through. "Mages are dangerous" isn't much of an excuse, because there are ways to discover magic long before it becomes a problem. The Chantry is also the only authorized source of information on magic in a world where most people are not literate unless they've learned to read from guess who? Once again, the Chantry.

@audacityinblack: I can agree 100% with that. I’m not very good at making my point in arguments, especially if it’s not my native language. but you can do it perfectly. I mean the chantry is obviously based on the catholic church and nobody can argue that they did some pretty bad things and they happend in real life. that doesn’t mean the chantry is real or has the same impact as actual events but you can still make a connection. (and we also shouldn’t forget that the woman writing Anders in DA 2 didn’t like him at all so sometimes the points he’s trying to make might not come across as well as they should and they do try to make him an actual villain) I’m guessing some people are just too lazy to try to see different sides in games and they do the same thing in real life. let’s not forget, that Cullen is well loved by most people and he did pretty horrible things as well. he ordered me to kill every mage even if there was a chance they hadn’t done anything. and don’t try to argue “well but had to suffer you have to understand” yeah fuck you, Anders had to suffer most of his life and he didn’t choose it. none of the mages gets a choice. templars fucking do. I still like Cullen and try to understand his side of view and can see that he has changed since then but if you make me choose I will always be on Anders’ and the mages side. also I don’t even want to think about how horrible the punishment of turning mages into tranquil is. it is fucking murder or actually worse and they try to sell it as “kindness” and because the chantry is such a large institution no one really questions the stuff they do.  

[60b3r]

How I Became An Agnostic #2: Political Analysis

Looking back through history, every religious institution was always influenced by both cultural and political agendas. Also vice-versa. Leaving the Church (as a symbol of the institution) behind and being an independent Christian was the very first step that I went through before being fully irreligious. This step of leaving their respective institutions and choose to be independent believer happens a lot with numerous people, particularly from Semitic religion adherents. Semitic religions like Judaism, Christianity and Islam are all notoriously well known to have vast contribution to the world of warfare, violence, terror, and genocide. But even now, several Dharmic religious adherents renowned for its peaceful traits, are beginning to take on the streets and begin to tamper with political edicts.

Yes I know that some people will say stuff like “terrorism has no religion!” but they have been using religion as a front anyway. If it happens to be true that such murderous organizations do not posses any knowledge—even a corrupted one—of any religion, they wouldn’t be that big and better at organizing brainwashed zombies, ready to throw themselves on whatever stands in their way in the name of God. It is still a faith based initiative that defending your God is compulsory in your religion. A total gibberish and baloney, considering the belief of God as an all encompassing being, capable of transcending everything. Why does He need your apologetic defense?

The Crusades was thought to be a Holy Conquest to liberate the Holy Land of Jerusalem from Islamic occupation, but fought by very simple tenets of a conventional war: land, glory, and wealth. Political agenda of the Crusaders are obviously the instability of the Byzantium Empire after its dissolution, leaving fragmented kingdoms and principalities in rivalry with each other. Machiavelli (1532) said that religion was merely a tool, useful for a ruler wishing to manipulate public opinion. The state were using faith as a simple means to mobilize people to fight against their enemies in the name of God (rather than fighting the enemies of God—wait—are there enemies of God? I thought God is merciful and loving) with the promise of heaven.

During the Age of Discovery, every major civilization on Earth begin to take on the seas and the voyage for new lands to colonize and to gain luxury resources in remote areas of the world. Kings and queens granted long expeditions for navy captains (along with sailors, trade merchants, diplomats and missionaries) with the promise of gold, glory and gospel. This same motive is also brought Fleet Admiral Zheng He (Muhammad Cheng Ho) to settle and conquer Southeast Asia as well as spread Islamic influences during the 15th century. How did religion contribute to the rise of colonialism? They tame natives and savages into thinking that the newcoming colonialists is their long awaited Messianic prophet, like what Hernan Cortéz did after being thought as a god during the demise of Aztec civilization.

Advances in the establishment of Israel  after the second World War in the Middle East is also one of the clearest example in which religion is utilized to exert power, exercise authority over people, and annex lands. Islamic propaganda in the rise of Mujahideen combatants, then armed and trained by the U.S. Special Forces during the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan, also concealed the strategic importance of CIA missions during the proxy war. Old-timer conflicts between Shia and Sunni brought oppression in Middle Eastern countries and culminates into the Arab Spring, bringing religion into another bloodshed and help justify the killings of people who does not belong in the same sect or belief.

The ties between politics and religions that seems very diluted but still rather clear is the propaganda against communism during the Red Scare, where so many opponents of the ideology launched a series of smear campaign accusing communism to be exclusively atheistic and immoral. But we all know that as an economic theory and political philosophy, communism itself does not necessarily need to be atheistic. People do realize that Marx (1843) said that “Die Religion ... ist das Opium des Volkes” and what did he mean by that statement in the part where he writes “religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions” is that those religions in the context does not really promote a way to bring concise action for the betterment of society by means of radical reconstruction of social order.

The idea that Marx is delivering is on how oppressed people be silenced by the existence of religion that have soothing effects and hinders productivity because they are prone to belief in certain miracle rather than working to attain the “paradise”. It was not a way of shunning any religious values, it was a direct critic to the believers of such things. That is why the believe in one (or many) such Comforter(s) is actually contrast to the the idea of a class struggle, to achieve utopia where people leading people to work for the collective benefits of its own people.

Stay tuned for future updates. Also read another posts in the series: Background Reason for Nones Societal Construct and Psychoanalysis Questions and Checkpoints

[ask-adyingsoul-blog]

2am and im messing around on omengle cause of someone on youtube bringing it up prt4

ok but this guy was so fucking chill its fucking me over like how thefuck did i find--

anD THIS IS L ON G

You both like Tumblr.

Stranger: hey

You: ciao

Stranger: hows it going?

You: music

Stranger: oooo what ya listing too

You: crybaby and stuff

Stranger: idk what that is

Stranger: metal?

Stranger: or like punk?

You: not really but like that emo teen stuff?? i dont evenknow

Stranger: ah

Stranger: im listing to red hot chillie peppers

You: oh just look up what genre is melanie martinez that should help in a way

Stranger: so alternative?

You: i guess

Stranger: makes sence

You: so what about twenty one pilots, you know them

Stranger: i know of them i never really listen to there music, im more of a hard rock, metal type of guy

Stranger: and psychedelia and prog rock

You: ah

You: so what brought ya to this god forsaken site

Stranger: its 2:00 am and i aint tired yet just board as fuck and still kinda high\

Stranger: wbu?

You: o h um its 2:32am here and i can stay up till 7/9am and its hot in my room and i wouldnt be able to sleep

Stranger: well its 2:32 here

Stranger: but just round

You: so about tumblr you still have it or..

Stranger: sadly i droped it freshman year of highschool , its still a tag on this laptop since i havent used it since freshman year, i recently turned it into a media pc for my room and turned my tv into a computer

Stranger: got 2 computers in my room full functioning full time now XD

You: cool

You: bruh its raining like its england

Stranger: so since we are chating whats your name stranger?

Stranger: Yea

Stranger: it was raining a little bit ago

You: oh its...let go with my tumblr name ADyingSoul

Stranger: sounds fire

Stranger: then lets go with my steam name Spooky Seal but you can just call em Seal

You: nice and oml this is the first chill ive ever gotten

Stranger: first chill?

You: chill chat i meant

Stranger: oh dead ass

Stranger: what were the last few like

Stranger: just rage and bloodshed XD

You: a few creeps a girl who was talking about hentai and a hype tumblr person who talked for five secs then disconnected

Stranger: hahahahaha

Stranger: well its cu im a stoner

Stranger: i dont got places to be rn

Stranger: im at harmony

You: im just a kid whos on easter break so...

Stranger: same fam

You: hmm what about DA you have that?

Stranger: never botherd to get a da

Stranger: Im not artsy in that type of way

Stranger: im a culinary arts student

Stranger: thast my art <3

You: ha im just some weeb who has a work in progress anime art style

Stranger: sick shit

Stranger: bet its guna be great

You: wel[ its better than what my bro and sister can do

You: welp**

Stranger: hahahaha

Stranger: we are all good at something we just gota find it

You: i hope

You: but like just image seeing this https://em.wattpad.com/aa188cdc7ddace9ee96afc2b21ad8b81d4612aa9/687474703a2f2f666330362e64657669616e746172742e6e65742f667337302f662f323031312f3332382f652f632f616d65726963615f6d6f6368695f62795f6761626970616369756c6f2d643468347a73302e6a7067?s=fit&h=360&w=360&q=80

You: but bad

You: im so sorry its long

Stranger: Il save that and look at that when im sober\

You: ok

Stranger: ima head off dude

Stranger: Im tired as shit

Stranger: night

WHY DID I--