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qqueenofhades · 2 years

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You know, it remains absolutely wild to me how... like... we know exactly who is responsible for this, where, when, and why. There's a short list of like 10 people. It looks like this:

Donald Trump, for being a fascist narcissistic grifter, con man, and criminal, who nonetheless managed to weaponise enough white grievance, backlash against Obama, voter apathy, Clinton smears from the Republican slime machine, and leftist moral posturing to get elected as President and have three Supreme Court picks, all of which were obtained dishonestly;

Mitch McConnell, for being the absolute worst, not to mention proudly on record as wanting to obstruct everything a Democratic president ever does, a power-hungry shriveled racist who refused to even hold hearings for Merrick Garland and then filled that seat with Neil Gorsuch, colluded with Trump to force Anthony Kennedy to suddenly retire and install drunken sex abuser frat boy Brett Kavanaugh, then jammed Amy Coney Barrett onto the bench to fill RBG's seat, eight days before the 2020 election, in brazen open hypocrisy of everything he had said about SCOTUS and election years, since the only principle that matters to him is maintaining Republican power;

Gorsuch, Kavanaugh, and Barrett themselves, for doing exactly what they were put on the court by theocratic dark money fundamentalist operatives to do, and joining Bush-era fascists Thomas, Roberts, and Alito to overrule Roe vs Wade, as the culmination of decades of deliberate and openly stated Republican policy;

Rupert Murdoch and the Fox News disinformation ecosystem, for creating the alternate reality that made Trump possible and continues to empower his sycophants, supporters, cronies, and other bad actors, and generated much of the anti-Clinton slime and smears that made their way into the mainstream, were endlessly repeated by so-called respectable media outlets like the NY Times, and poisoned the American electorate, already disposed to misogyny, against the most qualified (and historic) Democratic Presidential candidate there has likely ever been;

James Comey, for deciding to issue the "we are still investigating HER EEEEMAILS!" letter a week before the 2016 election, which took just enough off Clinton's increasingly narrow margins to put Trump over the top thanks to the rigged and racist Electoral College, which has often functioned exactly as designed in helping non-popular-vote-winning Republican presidents into power;

Vladimir Putin, for running a well-attested and repeatedly confirmed wide-ranging disinformation and interference campaign in the 2016 election to boost Trump, the Kremlin's pet stooge, and discredit Clinton, as part of his overall and equally well-attested scheme to disrupt and destroy Western liberal democratic institutions and boost Russian power;

And like... in terms of direct, locatable, empirically provable concrete responsibility, that's it. I'm even being charitable and leaving Bernie off this list, though I feel that he played a major part in creating both the 2016 clusterfuck and the "I'm too good to ever vote unless for my perfect socialist messiah" attitude that now prevails among much of the Online Left. That is a small number of names. Their actions are all verifiable in public records and a wide variety of news sources, both partisan and non-partisan. (Protip, anything you can only find in one news source that precisely matches your own ideological beliefs is, uh, deeply suspect.) I'm a historian. I work with verifiable facts and evidence, even if they might lead me to conclusions that I personally don't like. And any wide-sweeping broad generalisation, with absolutely no specific evidence or sources cited, is... not how it works and will get you a bad mark on an essay or research project every time.

So against this short list of 8 people, all demonstrably bad actors with bad motivations, what does your average Online Leftist do? They blame Obama, who "said he would codify Roe vs Wade and didn't!" Well, you might say, did Obama ever have a filibuster-proof pro-choice majority in the Senate? No, he didn't, but that's not an excuse, it just means he and Harry Reid didn't try hard enough (this already after McConnell's announcement about making Obama a one-term president and obstructing everything). Obama had the greatest financial meltdown since the Great Depression on his hands, and then spent all his political capital passing the Affordable Care Act, lost the House in 2010 as a result and the Senate in 2014, and which, despite being an actual, y'know, codified law, has been subject to literally hundreds of Republican challenges to gut, reverse, or overrule it as much as possible? YOU'RE JUST MAKING EXCUSES! WHO CARES ABOUT THE ECONOMY? OBAMA COULD HAVE DONE IT IF HE CARED AND FORESAW THE FUTURE!

Likewise, the left's other favorite scapegoat is RBG, for not "retiring in time" or otherwise precisely predicting the moment of her own death and who would be in office at the time. Literally no blame for McConnell, the one who actually and deliberately crammed the three illegitimate justices onto the bench in defiance of all protocol and precedent. So let's see... the so-called progressives are blaming a Democratic black man and a liberal Jewish woman for the actions of a bunch of evil Republican white men. Or the other laughable false equivalence I saw yesterday, which claimed that ever since the Democrats were elected in 2020, civil rights, LGBT rights, and now abortion rights were being stripped away (with the clear implication that it was their fault). This just happened on its own, I guess, and not because specific Republican-controlled state legislatures and the Republican-packed Supreme Court had deliberately done this as a strategy of pursuing and consolidating fascist power even after Trump's forced departure from the scene. Name one non-Joe Manchin/Kyrsten Sinema instance of the Democrats actively doing the same thing. I will wait.

This is not even to mention the leftists repeating straight-up QAnon propaganda about how Joe Biden is a racist sexist child molester and, I quote, "the literal scum of the earth." There are legitimate policy and performance grounds to criticise Biden on: his speech yesterday said all the right things, but it remains to be seen how much of a promised "whole of government" action will actually be made, including the available powers of the executive branch to which Biden, as chief executive, has access. His personal response has, at times, likewise seemed slow and flat-footed. But the Online Leftists have abandoned all pretense of a rational and reality-based critique, in favor of hurling the most overheated personal moral slanders possible, like the Puritans at a witch-burning. Again, I ask, we're supposed to believe that these are the progressives?

I saw a stat recently about how only 23% of American adults use Twitter. That is... not even one quarter of the country. Out of that, the Online Leftists are only a tiny percentage. These ideas are not popular or universal or just something that "everyone believes" outside of a carefully curated echo chamber. It may feel all-encompassing, but it's not, and frankly, its denizens seem to be interested in anything except building workable, practical coalitions, if it would mean taking any criticism or compromising on their exalted ideals (which, as I have noted throughout this post, really aren't as great as they seem). As I've said before, my own political views are as far left as it's possible to go, and yet, I doubtless will continue to receive more messages like the charming anon from the other day who told me to kill myself for being "bootlicking slime." This is how they like to communicate with people who otherwise agree with them on every policy level (at least as outwardly stated and certainly not as practiced). This... kind of seems like a problem.

I've likewise written before about how ideological revolutions to drastically remake societies with the Right Idea have never, ever succeeded, and only bring more pain, suffering, and death. To all those people preaching "revolution!" as the solution: you realize that all the idealistic young students manning the barricades in Les Miserables get shot, right? And that it's not an actual, legitimate political plan, not least because it isn't a plan? It's a reactive coping-mechanism magical-thinking wish that everything bad would just magically disappear in a burst of glory, and everything would be better now. It's comforting to daydream about, but it's not something any sane, rational adult really puts any stock in, since it's never something that has ever worked in history. What revolution? How? When? Surely you don't mean like the January 6 rioters, unless you do, since overthrowing the illegimate government with overwhelming violence is, oops, once again straight out of the right-wing playbook. Still waiting for those promised progressive ideals!

Basically, even in the unlikely event that they actually acquired it, I wouldn't trust the current crop of Online Leftists with power any more than I trust the Republicans, despite them outwardly sharing my beliefs and values. They haven't proven that they're interested in anything except punishing those who don't hold their exact narrow and rigid idea of "moral" views, blaming other people who again, think largely or entirely like them, threatening or using violence against anyone who disagrees with them, and finding ways to constantly excuse and ignore the actual perpetrators of illiberal Christofascism. All, again, while claiming to be progressive! Like the AO3 anti crowd, who thinks that perfect morality in the world can be achieved by aggressively and abusively policing the fiction that people write for fun in their free time, it's about using cult-like techniques and tactics to position the entire outside world as the morally inferior enemy and building in-group solidarity by attacking them. Which seems like, oh, I dunno... Trump supporters. Again. Womp womp.

I don't know. Call me an old person; I definitely am. But as terrible and cynical and generationally damaging as the Dobbs decision is, and how it represents the greatest legal denial of personhood and autonomy to American women in most of our lifetimes, there's something even worse about seeing the generation who claims to "know better" blaming the people who opposed it, excusing the people who did it, and then going straight into more nonsense about why it's not actually bad and/or twisting themselves into pretzels to invent the hypothetical (white, rich) woman who somehow won't be affected by this. Maybe that's just me in thinking that is a profoundly flawed and wrong response on literally every level, but you know, I suspect it's not. So yeah.

#hilary for ts #history #american history #politics for ts #long post

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casinotrio1965 · 11 months

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Disney: Conversations Over Breakfast by Levi

“Extra! Extra! Prince Ben will soon allow villain children from the Isle of the Lost to come to Auradon. The locals are sceptical and a lot of outrage has been thrown his way. Are we letting doom come to our town!?"

Tiger Peony, Tulip and Blue Veronica had received this newspaper from Auradon Prep’s newspaper club. They didn’t attend the actual school itself, their cousins Ally and Pin were the ones who gave them all the gossip. It was so juicy they couldn’t help but share.

“No way! Villains in Auradon? Are we sure that this is safe?” Tiger Peony exclaimed.”,

“Probably not”, Tulip replied as she flicked her ginger hair.

“You never know. Maybe they won’t be as bad as we think because if they really were that bad, the royals wouldn’t allow this”, Blue Veronica added as she pushed up her glasses.

She saw the apprehension in her older sisters’ expressions. Everyone's heard the stories of the Evil Queen who poisoned an innocent girl, Maleficent who cursed a young baby out of spite, and Cruella who cruelly turned dogs into lovely coats.

Children belonging to people like that could only bring mischief. Right?

“In any case, we gotta show this to dad! We're gonna be late for breakfast- Well, lunch!" Blue Veronica reminded.

Both of them nodded in agreement at Veronica’s suggestion, rushing home to show the news to their parents.

Lampwick leaned back in his wooden chair as he continued to read this piping hot new issue sweeping the kingdom. His wife, Tigerlily, was busy serving breakfast for their family, or more like brunch since it was already eleven in the morning. The three girls were huddled around the table, anxious about what the future for the kingdom will be. Villains have a horrible reputation for cursing and bullying people, so they couldn’t help but be wary.

The family were quickly distracted by the sight of their breakfast.

"Yum! Look at how great this looks!" Lampwick exclaimed.

The table was covered in plates of toast beside a jar of jam and tub of butter, pancakes drizzled in maple syrup, bacon that was crisp and crunchy, eggs scrambled to be light and fluffy, and some baked beans. There was jugs of orange juice and water for the girls, while Lampwick and Tigerlily had some caffeine for their day.

They all grabbed their cutlery and began digging in, before continuing their discussion.

“Auradon prep sure is daring”, Tigerlily remarked, shaking her head.

“I hope this will do some good for everyone! The villains might be good people…” Blue Veronica muttered, not entirely convinced by her own words.

They all glanced at each other, wondering if they’re being a bit too harsh at the idea. Lampwick closed his newspaper and started scarfing down his food. “What’s the big deal? My pal Alexander and I were a pair of bad apples, but people gave us a 2nd chance.”

“I could tell”, Tulip giggled cheekily, making her father huff as he was used to her retorts.

“All I’m saying is to let them come. Don’t judge too fast.”

Tiger Peony crossed her arms as she was too aware of the issues that come with this. Being the eldest she was supposedly the wiser one.

“It’s not about judging them, but we can’t deny that the Isle of the Lost is full of chaos and troublemakers! As much as I’d like to believe they’ll be nice, we can’t deny their reputation is something to consider.”

The entire family considered that and slowly nodded in agreement. It was far too soon to judge, and it wasn't like they often met troublesome villains.

"I wonder what they'll be like? If they aren't psychos or manipulative", Tulip hummed.

"First of all, kinda rude of you to say that. Secondly, I assume if they're not like their parents, then they'd just be ordinary teens. Like us", Veronica replied.

Tigerlily brought her tea cup to her lips, sipping softly before letting out a sigh.

"Why are we talking about politics on this relaxing morning?"

"You can't blame the girls. Who wouldn't be buzzing about this news!" Lampwick chuckled.

"Probably the people in Auradon Prep. Doubt anyone there is excited about this", Tulip chimed in with a hint of sass before giggling.

Sometimes he wondered how his own daughter could be so snarky, then he remembered that she must've gotten it from him. Suddenly, he felt a twinge of pity for his parents.

"I wonder if this means that villain kids will start attending more schools, like ours? If they do, that'll certainly be a wild ride!", Tiger Peony commented.

"Let's not think so far ahead. We don't even know how this will go, or if it'll continue", Veronica reminded.

"I wish I could go to Auradon Prep and meet these guys! It would be so much fun!" Tulip giggled with a smirk.

"Maybe one day we can visit our cousins and check it out", the eldest of them suggested.

Their father smiled as they enthusiastically discussed the possibilities amongst each other before quietly clearing up the table. They hadn't noticed that they've already finished all their food and drinks, continuing to chat.

As he started washing the dirty pile of dishes, his beloved wife snuck up behind him and gave him a hug.

"They're so full of energy in the morning. Oh, it's so wonderful to be young", she sighed.

"Hey! We aren't that old!"

"Sounds like denial to me."

The two shared a glance before sharing a loving laugh. Their three daughters behind them already started heading off to discuss the news to all their friends.

"I sure hope it'll all be fine. Wonder what's going through Pinocchio and Alice's minds right now?" Tigerlily pondered.

Lampwick paused for a moment before shrugging.

"We should ask them next time."

The pair of them couldn't help but worry a little. They hoped it would go smoothly, or else many kids would be put in danger. But they had hope. Perhaps this was a start of a new era. And everyone was on edge, curious as to what awaits on the next page.

The End

#disney peter pan #disney descendants #disney pinocchio #descendants #pinocchio #Pinocchio 1940 #tiger lily x lampwick #Lampwick #Tiger Lily #Peter Pan 1953 #tiger peony #peter pan

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u3pxx · 4 months

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Hi!! I just really quick wanted to say, you’re wonderful and your community very much loves you!! I want to hug your Apollo Justice (I look at him for reference all the time; you draw eyes so well), and I evil laugh to myself whenever I read that one comic where he gets poisoned and dies because bad endings are my jam. I hope you get through today okay, and maybe eat some good food. Thank you for existing, Den!! ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)σ"

THE CACKLE I JUST LET OUT ON "and I evil laugh to myself whenever I read that one comic where he gets poisoned and dies because bad endings are my jam." SDFGHD TRAGEDY ENJOYERS WHEEEE 🤝🤝🤝

but ahhhh!!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺 such nice, nice things to say 😭 careful! y'all better watch your dang words around me or i'll start being really emo about this!!!!!!!!!! DFGHDD <33 sniffles sweeps cries thank you so much i'll carry this in my lil emo heart :'^) hope u have literally have such a nice year <33

#tysm so kindest what the heck ....#sunnysideanswers #awkward-thinker

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marypsue · 6 months

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It's Sneak Peek Sunday! And I totally forgot to put up a sample to celebrate finishing chapter eight (of a planned fifteen total, so now we're more than halfway through!) of former heroes who quit too late! So here's that!

...

Chrissy’d never thought she’d honestly be relieved to see Billy Hargrove. But then, she’s never had to close down the whole pool and fish out a turd that turned out not to be a turd, either. Today is just full of firsts.

There’s something about Billy that just puts her on edge. Nothing Chrissy can put her finger on, exactly. Heather thinks she’s being paranoid, that he’s a garden-variety jerk whose looks more than make up for every time he opens his mouth. And she’s probably not wrong. There’s plenty of those at Hawkins High.

It’s just – there’s something intense about him. Something Chrissy’s never really noticed in Jason, or Patrick, or, like, Steve Harrington or whoever else is riding on his looks to excuse his mouth this week. Something she thinks maybe Heather should take a little more seriously.

She has to concede one point to Heather, though. Billy Hargrove is not hard to look at. Too bad there’s no way Jason’d ever grow out his hair.

Still, the relief that sweeps over Chrissy when she looks up from the test strip she’s checking and sees Billy standing on the other side of the pool is unexpected. And it’s also short-lived. Billy doesn’t look like he’s here to pick up his abandoned shift at all. He doesn’t have his bag with him, and he’s not wearing swim trunks, or his lifeguard tank. Actually, those might be the same clothes he was wearing yesterday. Chrissy thinks that’s a twig caught in the dishevelled tangle of his hair. There are visible beads of sweat standing out on his forehead, and he’s all flushed, even though it’s not that hot out.

And he’s just – standing there. Watching her. Like a creep. Chrissy’s not really sure how long he was there, before she noticed. Or how long it’s been since the last time he blinked.

“Billy?” she asks, setting aside the water testing tools slowly, so she doesn’t spook him. Abruptly, and for no real reason, she’s reminded of the horses at the mountain lodge resort her parents took her to the summer after fifth grade. Of how the riding instructor had warned them all never to approach a horse in its blind spot. How if you startled a horse, it’d kick.

There’s something about Billy’s eyes, as he seems to shake himself awake, that makes Chrissy think of startled horses. Of their eyes, big, so wide the whites are visible almost all the way around, rolling with mad, helpless terror. It makes her wish Billy would look anywhere else.

But he doesn’t. Just says, flat and even and steady, “You need to come with me.”

Chrissy swallows the inexplicable lump of nerves sitting high in her throat. “Uh oh,” she tries, with what she knows is a weak attempt at a smile. “Do I need to get the mop and bucket?”

Billy doesn’t react to her admittedly kind of pathetic joke. Or actually answer the question. He just keeps standing and staring until Chrissy stands up. Then he turns without a word and starts walking toward the storage shed.

Chrissy looks over at Heather, who’d retreated into the shade of the building after she’d burned her back so badly. But Heather doesn’t seem concerned at all. She just meets Chrissy’s eyes and nods in the direction Billy just went, waiting until Chrissy starts to walk around the pool before coming over to join her. She keeps pace beside Chrissy as they both follow Billy over to the storage shed, but she doesn’t look over at Chrissy once. Chrissy tries not to feel like she’s being escorted, like she’s got bodyguards.

Like she’s being herded.

Billy’s waiting beside the door of the shed when Chrissy reaches it, pulling off the padlock and chain that’s the only thing keeping an army of kids in Jams and water wings from poisoning themselves with chlorine. He steps aside as Chrissy comes up to the door, with a sweeping little gesture and the first hint of an expression Chrissy’s seen him wear since he looked up from the pool. It’s his usual slow, sarcastic grin, crooked and somehow mocking. But somehow it seems stiffer than usual. Takes a little longer to spread across his face. “After you.”

Chrissy looks up at Heather. Heather doesn’t react at all. There’s a shadow of a smile on her face, too, patient and curiously vacant.

“We already re-treated the pool,” Chrissy says, to Billy. She still doesn’t think he’s blinked. “And it wasn’t even a real turd. Just somebody’s nasty prank.”

Billy’s smile doesn’t shift an inch.

“Chris,” Heather says, sounding vaguely annoyed.

Chrissy takes a deep breath in. Whatever practical joke these two are planning, Heather’s her friend.

Even if she doesn’t seem to take Billy seriously enough, she wouldn’t help him do anything that would actually get Chrissy hurt.

#this is mary's fic tag #stranger things #former heroes who quit too late #the hawkins indiana psychic baby boom #fighting for my life trying to get this fic done. it's outlined. i think all the major plot problems have solutions now.#it just needs to be. written.#feat. me attempting to write a character who appeared for five seconds and everybody seems to Know Things about that I don't #couldn't bring myself to finish season four so all of my chrissy cunningham knowledge is via fandom osmosis #so. please be kind to me

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goddesstrolls · 25 days

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(TW for death, murder, attempted strangulation)

Arctus stood behind the chair Meline sat in. Acolye’s still body lay in the bed, her face covered by a sheet.

“Please come eat, Meline.” Arctus said, his voice soft. “You haven’t since last night.”

“Where were you?” Meline asked, her voice hoarse with disuse.

Arctus paused, unease fluttering in his chest at the sudden question. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play stupid.” Meline rasped, her tone hollow yet sharp as broken glass. “Where were you, Arctus. Why weren’t you here with us?”

“I was looking for a cure.” Arctus furrowed his brow. Meline could be stubborn- but he hadn’t expected this hostility. “Meline, please–”

“Fucking bullshit.” Meline hissed under her breath, interrupting him. “Lying sack of shit. You could have saved her, and instead you were fucking off to god knows where.”

Arctus set his jaw, trying to keep his temper at the venom in her tone. It was unlike Meline to jab at him like this- The three of them had lived together for sweeps without much fighting. She was wrought with grief, angry for the decline and death of her moirail and trying to find someone to blame.

“I spent perigees trying, Meline. I… Regret as much as you do that I wasn’t here when she passed-” Arctus tried, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Bullshit!” Meline suddenly snarled, whirling around to fix her red eyes on him. “You could have been fucking poisoning her for all I know, with your stupid potions!”

“She was my matesprit as much as she was your moirail! Why would I-” Arctus snapped, and Meline jumped up, fury alight in her eyes. She lunged at him, and he thought she was reaching for his collar- but she wrapped her hands around his throat instead.

“I loved her as much as you-” Arctus rasped, his voice strained from the grip on his throat.

“Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up already!” Meline screamed over him, squeezing his throat with every ounce of force she had.

Arctus gave a choked gasp and clawed desperately at Meline’s hands, trying to pry her off.

Failing that, he planted his hands on her shoulders and shoved her away. That broke her grip and she stumbled back, tripping over her own feet and bashing the back of her head against the bed frame as she fell.

Arctus stumbled back, gasping for breath, staring at Meline as she lay still. He wondered for a moment if he had just killed her. He tried to say her name between his heaving, but his voice was silent, just the faint hiss of escaping air through his vocal chords.

Meline stirred, and, visibly struggling, started to get to her feet. She clawed at the bed frame for a hold, having difficulty coordinating. She lurched towards Arctus, her breathing labored, the yellow of her eyes tinted red.

Arctus backed further away, drawing the small dagger he used for hunting.

“Meline. You’re bleeding- You’re not yourself.” Arctus tried to speak again, his voice just above a whisper. His hand shook as he gripped the weapon, praying its presence would be enough to keep Meline away.

It was not.

Meline lunged again for his throat and he raised the dagger. He couldn’t tell if he jammed it into her chest or she simply threw herself into it.

She fought with eerie silence against his arm braced against her collar to keep her away, claws raking across his face.

“Meline!” Arctus spoke as loudly as his bruised throat would allow and grabbed her wrist. “Listen to me!”

Blood bubbled at her lips. Her attempts to attack him were flagging and she began to sink to the ground.

Arctus sank with her to his knees, catching her and laying her down despite her weakening resistance. She fell still, staring with unfocused eyes towards the ceiling, and she didn’t respond as he jerked the knife from her chest.

He slit her throat to end her suffering. As her blood pooled on the floorboards, he watched the life drain from her eyes.

As the seconds trickled by, it struck Arctus that he was alone.

The hive was silent. Not so much a home now, as a cold tomb.

Arctus straightened. He lifted a hand, obscuring Meline’s face from his view and focusing on a drop of her blood on his hand.

He was alone, now.

#bastdrabbles #arctus ic #arctus izaril #arctus writing

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exhausted-archivist · 7 months

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Cookbook Sample Preview...

I'm perfectly normal about this, totally calm. But I noticed on Sunday that the Dragon Age official cookbook had a preview/sample that it didn't have last time I checked. To summarize, it shows the Table of Contents and 7 new preview recipes along with 2 from an earlier sample release. It's basically previews the whole first section "Starters and Refreshments".

I will be putting things under cuts in case people don't wanna see things. From now on and after its release, the tag I will be using for the cookbook if you want to block is #tastes of thedas or #da: tot

I will also be silently combusting inside as I try not to let the excitement amp me up too much. I expect to fail this mission lol. (Spoiler I did fail and have been making my excitement everyone's problem.)

So, the cookbook sample. Amazon had a scrolling preview that wasn't as nice as the spreads so I made them into spreads like we got with the previous six recipes. You can see them here in this post.

But the following is the full spread of the sample from the cookbook. It gives us the cover, the two title pages, the table of contents, an introduction of a new character/narrator, the table of contents for the Starters and Refreshers section, and the 9 recipes within that section.

Beneath the images, I have transcribed the lore blurbs of the recipe as well as give an image description, but I didn't type out the recipes. That's for a later post (Also because it doesn't fit on this post. I hit the limit, sorry.) For a similar reason, I'm not adding my commentary to any of the recipes.

Contents

Introduction - 7

Starters & Refreshments

Eggs à la Val Foret - 11 Nevarran Blood Orange Salad - 13 Fried Young Giant Spider - 15 Stuffed Deep Mushrooms - 17 Rivaini Couscous Salad - 19 Crab Cakes from Kirkwall - 21 Fluffy Mackerel Pudding - 23 Snail & Watercress Salad - 25 Cave Beetles - 27

For the Road

Spiced Jerky - 31 Grey Warden Pastry Pockets - 33 Pickled Eggs - 35 Unidentified Meat - 37 Seheron Fish Pockets - 39 Crow Feed - 43 Black Lichen Bread - 45 Hearth Cakes - 47 Peasant Bread - 49

Soups & Stews

Merril's Blood Soup - 53 Fereldan Potato and Leek Soup - 55 The Hanged Man's Mystery Meat Stew - 57 Fish Chowder - 59 Sweet and Sour Cabbage Soup - 61 Lentil Soup - 63 Nettle Soup - 65 King Alistair's Lamb and Pea Soup - 67

Main Courses

Stuffed Cabbage - 71 Antivan Gnochi - 73 Antivan Paella - 75 Grilled Poussin - 77 Gurgut Roast with Lowlander Spices and Mushroom Sauce - 79 Nug Pancakes - 81 Fish in Salt Crust - 83 Roasted Wyvern - 85 Nug Bacon and Egg Pie - 87 Starkhaven Fish and Egg Pie - 89 Cacio e Pepe - 91 Turnip and Mutton Pie - 93 Smoked Ham from the Anderfels - 95 Roasted Turkey with Sides - 97

Sides

Sera's Yummy Corn - 103 Stuffed Vine Leaves - 105 Honey Carrots - 107 Nevarran Flat Bread and Yogurt Dip - 109

Sweet Delights

Blancmange - 113 Poison Stings - 115 Dalish Forest Fruit Cobbler - 117 Dwarven Plum Jam - 119 Sour Cherries in Cream - 121 Treviso Energy Balls - 123 Rice Pudding - 125 Goat Custard - 127

Baked Goods

Antivan Apple Grenade - 131 Found Cake - 133 Varric's Favorite Cinnamon Rolls - 135 Croissants - 137 Cherry Cupcakes - 139 Chocolate Cake - 141 Varric's Favorite Pastries - 143 Sugar Cake - 145 Lamprey Cake - 147 Tevinter Pumpkin Bread - 151

Drinks & Potions

Lichen Ale - 155 The Hissing Drake - 157 Hot Chocolate - 159 Antivan Sip-Sip - 161 Dragon Piss - 163 Rivaini Tea Blend - 165 The Golden Nug - 167 The Emerald Valley - 169 Chasind Sack Mead - 171

Conversion Charts - 173 About the Authors and Photographers - 174

Introduction

Dear Mum,

It's me, Devon! I'm all grown up now-- or, well, more grown up than before. You always said I was too much like a child for my own good, and given the number of times you caught me daydreaming about going off on some grand adventure instead of sweeping the floors, I will grudgingly admit that you probably - probably - had a point. But guess what? I finally went on an adventure! A big one! Just like the Hero of Ferelden!

Okay, well, maybe not exactly like the Hero of Ferelden. But I did travel across Thedas! From Ferelden to Orlais, to Rivain, and even Tevinter. Plus, everything in between. It was a long journey, Mum. Weeks and weeks on the road, with the occasional bandit or beast. You'd probably have hated it, but, by Andraste, I loved every second of it! The sights! The sounds! The food.

Oh yes, the food. The reason why I set out on this journey to begin with. I know that I wasn't particularly adept in the kitchen the last time we saw each other. And, yes, I do remember that I nearly set Castle Cousland aflame with my first attempt at a stew. But I am pleased to inform you that I have been practicing extensively, and I think that, if the position still existed, I could take up your mantle as the Cousland family's cook. Granted, I doubt I would be able to fill your shoes completely; no one could manage such an impossible task. But I like to tell myself that I still would be able to make you proud.

And that takes me back to this journey and the all-important question of why. Why did I spend the last year traveling from one end of Thedas to the other, sampling whatever local cuisine I could get my hands on, even dishes that were downright strange? You're probably thinking that it's because the Hero of Ferelden ate it at some point - yes, that's certainly part of it, though I'll have you know that I tracked down foods enjoyed by the Champion of Kirkwall and the Inquisitor as well! Not to mention all their companions. But the truth is, Mum, throughout all of this, you were right there with them at the forefront of my mind. Because when I thought of ways to honor you, I kept coming back to the most important lesson you taught me: Love through food.

Every time I left your kitchen with a warm, full belly, I felt your love for me. And though I can't do the same for you anymore, I can fill this book. I can stuff it full of different recipes, dishes you've probably never even heard of, and think of you with each new entry. Because, you see, Mum, underneath all that childlike excitement, the dreams of adventure and heroism, I'm still very much your child. And I always will be.

Thank you for everything, Mum. I can't wait to share this book and the lessons that inspired it with the rest of the world.

Love, Devon

Starters & Refreshments

Eggs à la Val Foret

Image Description: A pancake with ham and a sliced poached egg with paprika and herbs on top sit on a silver platter.

Recipe Blurb: Ah, yes. Tons of cream! Exactly what I've come to expect from Orlesian cuisine. Do I have any tips for creating the perfect poached egg? Well, ever since I heard that Solas's bald head was once likened to an egg, I simply try to make my eggs just as round and shiny! So far, it's worked wonderfully and never ceases to put a smile on my face.

Nevarran Blood Orange Salad

Image Description: A wooden bowl rests on a rock, it holds a colourful salad with blood orange slices resting on top.

Recipe Blurb: Although I knew that Divine Victoria left behind a life of wealth and privilege to join the Seekers of Truth, it wasn't until I was in Nevarra, seeing exactly what she'd given up, that I truly gained an appreciation for the path she'd chosen. The best way to describe my first glimpse of the gardens of Nevarra is that it was like seeing a painting come to life. For a long moment, I could only stand there, so dazzled by the richness and vibrancy of it all that I was half-convinced I was actually still napping in the carriage. Surely, there was no way such beauty could be found outside of a dream. And yet the beauty before me was very much real.

So, too, was the picturesque tableau that arrived later that day on a plate: perfectly cut slices of blood orange artfully arranged on a lush pillow of bitter greens. Was this a meal or a still life, I wondered. In truth, the answer was both. For Nevarrans, food is as much a feast for the eyes as for the mouth. But even if your arrangement isn't quite worthy of being displayed in a museum, this salad will sing a symphony on your tastebuds.

Fried Young Giant Spiders

Image Description: A metal bowl filled with salad greens and fried crab legs arranged on top. Plate sits on a wooden table with a metal item and a smoking pot in the background.

Recipe Blurb: Just as people on the surface raise cows and goats, the dwarves underground raise spiders. Yes, to eat. The legs are fried and served with a sauce, which, true to dwarven fashion, is made with some type of alcohol. The precise kind depends on the establishment where you're eating your spider legs. Unfortunately, I couldn't get an exact recipe from any of the chefs I spoke to. These sauces are apparently closely guarded secrets and have spurred many a nefarious plot to acquire them-the competiontion to be crowned Orzammar's Best Sauce is fierce. But I've been assured that lichen ale is generally not used.

I've therefore come up with my own recipe, based on the many varieties I sampled while in Orzammar. Given that sourcing the requisite spider legs above ground is not nearly so easy, and the demand for such exports is minimal, I've subsituted them with crab legs. It's not a perfect match, but it's close enough to satisfy me.

Stuffed Deep Mushrooms

Image Description: Three mushroom caps fulled with a green, cheesy blend topped with chives. Placed on a platter that looks like a cut of wood, red capped mushrooms with white spots in the right hand corner in the foreground.

Recipe Blurb: Though the mushrooms growing underground in caves and in many parts of the Deep Roads are all called "deep mushrooms," there is no singular variety. In fact, there are several! Some mushrooms are squat, with broad, flat caps, while others are long and spindly, reaching toward the sky like an old man's gnarled fingers. They also have a multitude of applications, used in the creation of everything from restorative potions to deadly poisons. But in Orzammar, mushrooms are farmed for eating!

I was able to sample some of these dwarven delicacies, prized for their unique flavor and intoxicating scent. After only a few bites, I was struck with inspiration. How delicious would one of these mushrooms be when stuffed with cheese and spinach? The answer is: very. Rest assured that I selected this particular variety of deep mushroom not only for its shape, which is ideal for holding the maximum amount of cheese (and spinach), but also for the fact that it does not carry the darkspawn taint. While certain dwarves will insist that a deep mushroom's proximity to lyrium and darkspawn can only improve its flavor, I am quite content to leave that particular question a mystery, especially where lyrium is concerned. Although I'm hardly and expert on the stuff, I can't help but think about Fenris and how much suffering he endured as a result of his lyrium-infused markings. It seems to me that, barring any natural resistance, lyrium and the body are two things that probably shouldn't mix.

Rivaini Couscous Salad

Image Description: A copper bowl filled with couscous, mixed with various veggies and a mint leaf on top. A letter with an amulet from Alistair in the bottom left corner - merch from the BioWare store.

Recipe Blurb: When I first encountered couscous, I mistakenly believed it to be a grain, like rice or the more familiar Fereldan barley. I was swiftly corrected. In fact, couscous is a sort of pasta, made with semolina flour and water, although it's far smaller than your typical Antivan pasta. Couscous has a very mild flavor on its own--maybe slightly nutty. But where it excels is in its ability to soak up surrounding flavors, making it a perfect base for any salad. I'd love to experiment further, but so far, this particular combination of red bell pepper and mint has proven to be incredibly pleasing.

Crab Cakes from Kirkwall

Image Description: A caste iron pan over a bed of coals and flames, filled with battered soft shelled crabs, red peppers, and lemon slices.

Recipe Blurb: I love it when recipes add a dash of whimsy into the mix. Food shoulf be fun. I, therefore, took it upon myself to put this into practice with a classic Kirkwall dish. After all, who hasn't looked at their crab cakes and wished they looked a little more like crabs? Okay, maybe I'm the only one who's thought this. But now that I've brought this possibility to your attention, I'm certain you're interested as well! Best of all, these extra-crabby crab cakes stay true to the original recipe's flavors, so nothig is lost--only gained!

Fluffy Mackerel Pudding

Image Description: Two red small bowls with baked masked potatoes and a slice of hard boiled egg on top sit on a net with a starfish in the background.

Recipe Blurb: Can it really be Feast Day without fluffy mackerel pudding? No! In fact, there's no dish I associate more strongly with the holiday than this unique combination of mackerel, onion, celery, and eggs. Granted, I've heard stories that, several decades ago, someone once attempted a diet consisting entirely of fluffy mackerel pudding. Now, that I certainly wouldn't recommend. It stops being Feast Day Fish if you eat it every day, no?

Snail & Watercress Salad

Image Description: A wooden bowl resting on a river rock, filled with a salad comprised of mixed greens, radishes, and cooked snails.

Recipe Blurb: When the Avvar can't get their hands on a gurgut or a wyvern, they turn their attention to smaller prey. Much smaller prey. Snails are found on many a hillside boulder, making them an abundant source of food for the Avvar. Now, while some would wrinkle their noses or cry out in disgust at the prospect of eating a snail, I am pleased to report that, when prepared correctly, the texture. and flavor are actually good! I could happily eat a plate full of snails dressed in butter and oil, but those still on the fence about a snail's place

Cave Beetles

Image Description: A carved bowl holding cooked whole prawns, lemon slices and herbs sit on a rock with fake beetles and a black rock with blue glowing lines in the background.

Recipe Blurb: You think that, after snails, I'd balk at beetles? Never! In fact, I greatly enjoyed this dwarven dish, which involves roasting cave beetles in their shells. However, I recognize that many may not have a palate that's nearly so adventurous. If that's the case, the cave beetles can be replaced with whole prawns while keeping the rest of the recipe the same. That being said, if you do enjoy the variation with prawns, I really recommend giving the cave beetles a try. They're quite similar in both texture and flavor. If you were to blindfold yourself, I doubt you could tell the difference!

#dragon age #dragon age cookbook #da: tot #da: tastes of thedas #tastes of thedas #long post #I am so excited this is just so good so far #I almost have bingo #archi is yelling into the void #I see that it mentioned it taking a year to traverse Thedas and we will all ignore that. Thank you.#I have feelings and observations which is for another post lol

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gcldfanged · 1 month

Note

What if they kissed?

Jae-hyo had to admit, he was not expecting his undercover mission to involve the President- Much less posing as the President's escort. He would have figured Tseng would have been a better choice, but perhaps their fearless leader was too busy to slide on some silk pantyhose and a cheongsam that was approximately 94% leg slit.

The agent couldn't even recall the last time he'd worn a bra. His provided undergarments were very expensive looking, even had garters to hold up the thigh highs. The balconette brassiere was stuffed with a pair of disturbingly realistic silicone tits that Rufus' bicep ends up being strangled between as they exit the luxurious car, Jae making the act of standing up look like some kind of erotic gesture thanks to the slinky dress.

"Was Elena busy or did you request me specifically due to my kill record," he questions with a smile spread like poisoned treacle over lush red lips, feigning an innocent exchange in hushed whispers between them as they approach the gala.

Rufus merely smirks and reminds him to stay on task and Yoon gives a disgustingly elegant toss of his lacefront over one shoulder.

The whole venue is utterly dull, vapid puffed up blimps in suits speaking about progress and innovation and 'the future of society', even as the Top Sider 1% enjoyed their caviar and stupidly expensive champagne while others starved to death. It was a sickening display.

The Turk holds his glass like a prop, needing to be alert and sober if he was going to manage to sneak into the area where the supposed protomateria was being guarded. Eyes scanning the room in sweeps, his mark excuses himself and seems to be heading towards the podium to make his speech- Which was his cue to get lost, literally speaking.

Jae feigns stupidity and only a tertiary ability to speak Common, waving his hands while employing a thick, stereotypical Wutaian accent.

"Ah, I looking for ladies room. You can helping me?" he simpers, sliding a hand beneath the slit of his dress to grab a small taser from a holster on his upper thigh.

The guard looks flustered and it would be cute if he weren't completely in the fucking way at present. Where did they find these people who actually wanted to do their banal jobs?

"Something matter? You so quiet, I making cute boy nervous?" Jae continues, pressing in close to lightly cup the younger man's face before jamming the taser into the side of his neck. The kid drops like a sack of bricks and Yoon manages to catch his gun just in time, sighing out the heavy breath he'd been holding during the struggle.

After stuffing the guard in a nearby utility closet, the agent glances down the hallway to make sure the coast is clear, then swipes the guard's cardkey through the security panel on a large, important looking door.

The screen lights and an accepts the card with a beep, but then asks for a second form of identification in the form of a thumbprint.

Shit.

He quickly goes over his options: he could just cut the guard's finger off- But he'd have to kill him first. Or he could take one of the fat men in the penguin suits hostage, but that would waste precious time-

A hand on his shoulder startles him, almost chopping the President in the neck in retaliation. Good, Rufus could actually be useful and help him.

Before he can explain the situation, Rufus crowds him against the door and slants his lips over Jae's, making the agent emit a shocked and borderline offended squeak. He shoves at the blonde's chest only to get his arm pinned against the wall, the taller man even going so far as to pull him flush against him by the thigh.

Yoon gets the gist of things quickly, hearing heavy footfalls coming down the corridor and a sideways glance reveals that the mark is returning earlier than expected from his welcoming speech. To make the scene more convincing, he gropes Rufus' ass with his nails and moans into the heat of his mouth, rocking his hips into him.

Rufus finally pulls away with a chuckle and addresses the target, apologizing for 'getting in the way'. Jae straightens himself as the two other men exchange some pleasantries and attaches himself to Rufus' arm once more, following him back to the splitting T-branch leading back to the main ballroom and the adjoining research facilities.

"Now what?" he asks, a touch annoyed.

"I thought you were supposed to be quick to adapt," Shinra comments a bit dismissively, dusting himself off as though sullied by Jae-hyo's touch.

"You could have cued me in before just... Nevermind. I'll find another way into that room," Jae promises, turning on his stiletto heels to glance down the rows of closed doors breaking up the long hallway.

That earns him a firm slap to the backside, the blonde already taking his leave to go eat some finger sandwiches and down some more heritage alcohol that cost more than Yoon's entire townhouse.

"You...!" the Turk hisses, rolling his eyes before stalking off to complete his mission.

Smug fucking bastard...

#sometimesrufus #◈ five fingers two black hooves [ic]#LOL hope this was okay #I thought it'd be funny if he had to be on a mission #Rufus is SO HELPFUL SUCH A HELPFUL GUY

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tarabyte3 · 1 year

Text

I Want You to Show Me Weak

Fandom: Andor

Pairing: Kino Loy/F!Reader

Chapter 4/27 (2.5k words)

->start at chapter 1<-

<- Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 ->

Summary: You're pretty sure Kino Loy hates you. He screams at you, grabs you, and shoves you against the wall, and it's becoming a problem because, well...it shouldn't fluster you as much as it does.

Warnings: Explicit rating, Smut, Prison, Prison sex, minor non-graphic injuries, Dom/Sub, sexual tension, dirty talk, praise, hair-pulling, light choking, unprotected sex, oral, angst

A/N: This chapter has some very sexy angst. Work title is from "Poison" by Vaults. Chapter title is from "#1 Crush" by Garbage. Previous chapter links up above.

AO3 Link

Chapter 4 - I will burn for you, feel pain for you. I will twist a knife and bleed my aching heart

You behave. For almost a week. If not for your own sake, then for your table's. Because Threl's words really stuck with you and you find yourself regarding all of them with a new appreciation. You even say thank you to Edii a few times when he routinely passes you something. The first few times he looks bewildered, but then he starts giving you a nod of acknowledgement afterwards. He also starts looking up when people talk, like he's paying attention. It's easier to include him in conversation now, to look at him when you talk, even if he is still quiet and doesn't respond.

Your hand is also healing, your table falls into an easy routine, and Taybus has finally given up trying to irritate non-existent details out of you about a potential boyfriend. Though you notice him spying on you when he thinks you aren't looking, like you might slip up and reveal you're having a passionate love affair with someone. You pretend to be as boring as possible just to annoy him and are pleased when it works.

Yeah, pretend.

But you think getting in trouble is an inevitability at this point. Because you know opening your mouth certainly is. If there's one thing you can always count on, it's the unreliability of your brain to kick in before you open your mouth.

It happens when you're fighting with a part. The pin on the joint gets jammed, which happens pretty often, but this one is stiff and won't move, and you're getting irritated. As you're struggling to wedge it in, Kino appears at your side to watch.

"Twist it, sometimes that loosens it." He instructs.

"I know." You try twisting it again, and it's so close. You can feel it shifting, but it won't clear enough to slip the joint cylinder in.

Kino moves a little closer to look over your shoulder, and his presence is distracting. You're trying to focus on the task, but it's impossible to focus when he's right there. When you can feel him at your side. Along your shoulder. His breath on your neck.

"You have to twist from an angle—"

"I know what I'm doing!" You snap at him. He tenses beside you and Alis warily looks up at you from the other side of the joint.

You regret it immediately. You were just so overwhelmed.

"I'm sor—"

"Hall. Now." He steps to the side so you can pass, and you stand there perplexed for a moment because this is new. Why does he want you to go to the hallway to get yelled at? When you aren't moving fast enough, he barks out, "Now!" causing you to jump.

You give your table one last nervous look before scurrying towards said hallway. You notice Sorrek appears distressed and is speaking quickly to Threl, who in turn is shrugging and shaking his head. The rest watch you go with apprehension. Except Edii. Edii doesn't seem to care what's happening. If only you could be more like Edii.

You can hear Kino behind you. The hard, angry fall of his bare feet on the hall floor and the swoosh of his uniform as he moves. You can also feel his eyes sweeping across your back like a physical caress, and your neck both tingles and bristles. You stop halfway down the hall, but he simply points to the large alcove that holds the bathrooms and extra water tubes for breaks instead. You take a steady breath to prepare yourself and then reluctantly step into it. Around the corner, you can no longer see out into the open floor. Which means no one can see you. There's a pit of dread in your stomach.

"Kino, what am I—"

Before you can finish your sentence, he seizes you by the jaw. His fingers are like a vice on either side of your face and they dig into your cheeks, just on the threshold of pain. You don't have the time or mental capacity to react because he's glaring at you, and it's the most enraged you've ever seen him. Then he slowly draws you closer while your heart rate skyrockets, and it's mortifying to know he can probably feel it.

"What did I say about talking back to me?" His words curl dangerously around your face. Not just his breath, but his warmth as well. And to your horror, your body is responding with enthusiasm. Your lips part, your eyes become lidded with arousal, your back arches just enough that your breasts lightly brush his chest, and a nearly inaudible whine escapes your throat. He quite literally has you in the palm of his hand, completely at the mercy of his touch.

You're already panting and squirming when you respond, "To never do it again."

"That's right." His gruff voice is low, almost a purr. "You didn't listen, did you?"

"No," you whimper. "I'm sorry."

"Are you going to behave?" In his proximity, his nose brushes against yours and you desperately need him to do something. Scream, choke, push, kiss, something because your body is on fire and you burn. You need.

But it's Kino, you tell yourself. The man that hates you. That man that has embarrassed you and yelled at you. How could you want Kino Loy? But your traitorous body and mind won't listen because it's Kino. The man that leaves you undone and bewildered with a single touch. And with his hand on your jaw, you finally realize what has been burrowing and growing inside of you for some time now: you want him.

"Yes, Kino." It comes out as a sob and a plea. You squeeze your thighs together, seeking any pressure to bring relief to the wetness between your legs. Then you silently pray to any God listening that it looks as though you're just ashamed at being in trouble again and he has no idea you're so fucking aroused by what he's doing. By him. You can't imagine how disgusted he would be if he knew. How angry.

"Good." He murmurs against your mouth. If you flicked your tongue out to lick your lips, you know you'd graze his lips as well, and the thought has you feeling horrified and even more turned on.

You're also furious.

You were content to go on working and getting yelled at, oblivious to and irritated by this man. Now that glass is completely shattered. You'll never be able to go back to your life before or be unaware of him again. You'll never be able to look at him and not think about his hand gripping your face or him pressing you against the wall in anger. You'll never not want him, and now you have to fucking suffer alone and in silence. It's bad enough that you're forced into labor in prison, but you have to add yearning for someone that hates you on top of that? It's not fucking fair.

Then you think about all of your interactions and everything he's said to you, and it occurs to you why he's doing this: He knows. He knows he knows he knows he knows—and he's doing this on purpose to punish you. Because he hates you. He doesn't want you back, he's trying to break you.

This is hell.

"Can I go now?" Your voice cracks in anguish, but you can't bring yourself to care. This has been humiliating and you just want to cry. But not in front of him.

He releases you immediately, and you stumble for balance because you aren't expecting him to just let you go. You quickly take a step back, groping for the wall, trying to put distance between you like a scared animal. You can't handle being close to him anymore. He watches you impassively, like this meant less than nothing to him, and that hurts even more. With a sniffle, you draw yourself up with as much dignity as you can muster.

"I'll be quiet. I'm sorry." Then you turn around and walk back up the hall without waiting for a response, all while fighting the urge to run.

When you head back onto the floor, you know your face is red, your shoulders have hunched with every step like you're trying to make yourself as small as possible, and there are tears in your eyes because it's becoming harder to fight them off. Especially as everyone watches you walk by. You also know they'll think you just got your ass chewed so hard that you cried, so they won't even bother to consider the truth of what just happened. Of how fractured you truly are.

Your table looks at you with sympathy and apprehension when you step into your spot, but you don't meet their eyes. You can't. It'll be too much. You expect Threl or Sorrek to speak first, but it's Edii that puts his hand on your shoulder, which is a surprise to everyone.

"You are okay?" You turn to him in shock. He still doesn't look particularly concerned, but you just know that's what this is. Edii does like you. And apparently it's also the last straw because your face breaks and the tears finally fall with a choked cry.

"No," you sob. You pick up the wrench and wipe your nose on your sleeve. "Let's just get back to work."

Edii gives you an awkward arm rub like the one he's seen Sorrek do many times before to comfort someone, and the gesture is oddly calming. You finally get the nerve to glance around at everyone else, and it's about what you expected. Taybus looks uncomfortable, Alis and Jevid look worried, Threl looks more worried, and Sorrek's eyes are watery. They're all still staring at you. Edii is the only one back to tightening a bolt.

"Please. Can we please just work?" You beg them quietly.

One by one, they return to what they're doing, albeit reluctantly. You assume Kino has come back into the room at some point, but you refuse to look up or glance around. So you keep your head down the rest of the shift and continue fighting tears of humiliation for the next several hours.

After your shift, Threl gets in line behind you at the very back. You'd been trying to hide behind Edii, who is usually last since table 7 is at the end, to make yourself as unassuming as possible. Apparently it hadn't worked. You do your best to ignore him because you know what's about to happen, and you'd rather not.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks softly.

"No," you say without turning around.

"Please tell me you'll at least be okay."

You whip around to look up into his face, and give him a vacant stare. "No."

"Damn." His warm face falls from concerned to somber. "What happened?"

"He really hates me, Threl," is all you can say because you don't know how to explain what happened. How you liked it and how it broke your heart at the same time.

His brows knit together in confusion. "No he doesn't."

"Yes he does." Your voice breaks slightly and you press your lips together to keep from crying again. You know he wants to pull you into a hug, but he doesn't. You're not supposed to touch in line up.

"Listen, I don't know what went on between you today, but based on everything I've seen and every conversation I've had with him, I really don't think that's true."

You open your mouth to protest, but you can see Kino coming in from the work floor after closing the shift, and you quickly avert your eyes to the ground. Threl turns to look and you can tell he's gesturing and trying to be subtle about it. You can't imagine the exchange of glances that happens between the two of them, or what silent conversation they have just beyond your awareness, but neither man says anything and Kino doesn't stop.

Once he's passed, you look up at Threl with fresh tears. "He hates me." Your voice is so small and you feel so vulnerable and you hate it. You hate it, but you can't help it because you trust this man to be kind and you're so broken right now. "Why does he hate me?"

Threl must see something on your face or hear what it is you're actually saying because his jaw drops and his eyes widen in understanding. "Oh." He breaks the rules and puts a hand on your shoulder. "He's why you asked about…"

You nod, finally ready to admit it to yourself. "I'm such a fucking idiot."

"You're not an idiot." He looks around and lowers his voice. "Maybe you have a weird way of becoming attracted to someone, but you're not an idiot. And I know that man, trust me, he doesn't hate you. He's…" He trails off helplessly because he doesn't know what else to say.

You don't say anything more because Threl didn't see. Not like you did. He doesn't have the context. And you wonder if he might change his mind on the idiot thing if he did.

For the next week, you barely speak or smile. You work, you shower, you push your food around on your plate, and you curl up in your cot with your back to your cell opening.

Sometimes you can feel Sorrek watching you. You can sense how much he wants to do something to help other than give you a hug when no one's looking and tell you that you can talk to him. Which you appreciate, but you don't think he'll understand this. At least not without combusting from embarrassment. Besides, who wants to talk to their surrogate dad about how badly they still want to fuck their boss, even though he hates them? Instead, you want to turn and comfort him. To tell him you'll be okay, but you also don't want to lie to him because you're fucking miserable.

You've avoided Kino as much as you possibly can, which is not easy to do in such a small space. At least keeping your mouth shut hasn't given him any reason to interact with you. Right now you're really hoping that with time and distance, you'll finally forget what it feels like to have his hand on your jaw or have his nose brush gently against yours. To know how easy it would have been to tilt your head and capture his mouth. The thought fills you with arousal and humiliation, and you aren't positive the humiliation doesn't also fill you with arousal.

And you hate yourself for it. You want to hate him, too, for making you feel this way. For treating you like shit just to get you to do what he wants. To punish you. But you can't, and how pathetic is that? Instead you just stroke your jaw and weep quietly into the evening.

[A/N: For this chapter I was inspired by these two pictures. Because my bisexual ass saw the opportunity to combine my massive crushes on Gwendoline Christie and Andy Serkis and I took it. And I regret nothing!]

NEXT CHAPTER->

#andor fanfic #andor #kino loy #kino loy x reader #kino loy x f!reader #fanfiction #i want you to show me weak fic

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wrecking · 3 months

Text

how is it already january 31st. ok anyways uh fun month musically tbh! been listening to a looooot of yeule and a bunch of random older stuff clicked with me finally, gonna ramble about them under the cut

allie x - girl with no face (pre-release singles)

tbh gwnf made sense to me instantly and owht was incredible on first listen, but black eye took MONTHS to grow on me. at least i'm obsessed with now, prepare to see this on the list all year

ariana grande - yes, and? (single)

i am basic and like house music. i think the dissonance on the chorus lines scratches my brain in a way not a lot else does currently, it's just kinda listenable in a fun way and that's all it needed to be imo. that one line is kinda funny with how underperformed it is tho

dua lipa - houdini - extended edit (single)

this has just been slowly taking over my brain ngl, hooks on hooks and they're all very fun to just sing to yourself while you're doing random things

tinashe - bb/ang3l

talk to me nice SWEEPS okay but also tightrope, needs, treason... honestly the whole fucking ep okay it's all good

paramore - this is why

tbh this gets on here almost exclusively off me watching the live debut performance of running out of time. her vocals are so good and that song in particular has been my jam this month ok, also you first is so good both as their song and as remi wolf's

adrianne lenker - songs

several alters were vibing with this this month and tbh good for them. her next solo album is probably gonna take over my life when it releases so hey

paramore - after laughter

dash really liked this one, i've been really clicking with rose-colored boy finally. i find this is why to be the better listen overall, but god this thing is still really good

confidence man - tilt

weird pick but i've kinda come back around into being obsessed with this again! subdued but quirky dance, it's not as immediately catchy or bold as their debut, but i really like it for what it is

yeule - softscars

this was the centerpiece of the month, well tbh all of yeule's discography could be. their stuff is so good but in particular like poison arrow, a song i'll get to later when i talk abt glitch princess, and cyber meat and 4ui12 have been just ruling this month for me. this album's groaning metallic soundscapes have just been so cathartic as of late. i'm a stan now

looks away somewhat shamefully - 1989 (taylor's version)

i don't even have an excuse for this one ok i just like this album, i have for like fucking 7 years at this point and i like the vault tracks and the less i have to think about the discourse surrounding Her As A Person the better.

charli xcx - crash

this kinda snuck back up on me this month? finally decided to revisit it after a long long time away, and it's held up incredibly well! much like hold the girl by rina sawayama, an artist is not merely worth based on how much they pander to rym nerds. the hooks, delivery, and production on this are so fucking good idgaf

100 gecs - 1000 gecs

this really has held up so well ok. 10k also rly good but this and the unreleased stuff has been scratching a particular itch for me this month. literally every song (except stupid horse i THINK which is fine bc i was obsessed with it before now) has been the subject of a small obsession of mine this month it's so good

olivia rodrigo - guts

this album keeps holding up and keeps being relevant to me personally. girl please put the deluxe tracks on streaming already for me

pinkpantheress - heaven knows

this album is SO fucking good hoooooly shit. i thought her first project was just ok but this is an ALBUM. ophelia, feel complete, mosquito, the aisle, hell that ENTIRE first 4 track run, i feel like i'm forgetting more but like just that alone... god...

rajie - heart to heart

my city pop hidden gem, this thing is so flawless even still. it's me it's you is still peak hooks. there are a couple other japanese titles i don't wanna go copy paste but like they are also just some of the most timeless melodies i've ever heard. this and timely by anri are the 2 city pop releases i keep on full rotation constantly now

yeule - glitch princess

don't be so hard on your own beauty. that's literally it. i don't want to talk about it because it's personal but i've been streaming it like my life depends on it. means the fucking world to me

cafune - love songs for the end

this just refuses to let go of my attention? 5 songs, probably just "generic pop" to most people, yet perspective and unchained memory REFUSE to leave me alone. the amount of times i've just ended up mumbling out that "honestly i think about-" and end up singing the entire thing to myself is unreal. shockingly effective hook

lady gaga - the fame monster (deluxe)

felt like revisiting this and it's still kind of just a big pop bible. my spotify has been playing teeth way too much but other than that, no song really manages to wear itself out. i guess maybe paper gangsta but that one's so silly how could you hate it

florence and the machine - how big, how blue, how beautiful

random pick but i'm standing by it. have come to the conclusion this and hah are her best records, and i maintain that. this one in particular tho is just stunningly good

kacy hill - is it selfish if we talk about me again?

alice really liked this, and i've also been streaming frog rinse a fuckton bc god that vocal effect is so unique yet so good

laura les - haunted (single)

probably the 2nd most defining thing in january besides yeule, this single has been just The thing i listen to all the damn time. her unreleaseds are so good too (walls are closing in?!?!>?!?>!>??!! RELEASE IT)

maude latour - 001

random pick again but this ep is so good, it's her best imo despite not appearing to have "that high highs." something about the aesthetics of each song here and how they're basically all good bops holds them up so well

hiroshi yoshimura - music for nine post cards

this and green are records that mercedes has been streaming like no tomorrow cuz they're so chill, but this one is definitely my lesser favorite? better cover but i care a lot more abt the songs on green except for blink, which is mesmerizing

100 gecs - unreleased

literally all of them but especially ratatouille and the thos moser remix. they need to just put out an unreleased record idgaf they have too many good songs sitting on youtube

hiroshi yoshimura - green

i got a gorgeous vinyl copy of this, and i've just been thinking a lot about this album. also peak reading music, ambient sweep

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ok so unrelated ik i said i'd do stats for 2023 in this post back in december but you know what... i don't feel like it. just know it was like big thief dragon, ethel preachers daughter, and maggie rogers surrender top 3 charters of all time so far. let's see how this year treats all of them!

#d #m

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doubleddenden · 2 months

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Well it only took me a few months, but I finally got around to beating Pokemon Abstract- a fan game made as part of Relic Castle's Game Jam #9 back in August of 2023. The short and sweet of it is that during their game jams, groups of fan devs will team up to create a fan game in a small window of time- this one being completed in about... 2 weeks, I think?

Pokemon Abstract definitely doesn't feel that way, though. It's understandably not perfect, but given the quality, I'd say it's up there with some fan games that have had a few years of development. The big appeal of this fan game is that it actually supports an open world format with adjusting levels in accordance to your progress. So it's not like Scarlet and Violet where you can technically go wherever but gyms are stuck in certain levels- literally you can challenge whatever gym you want in whatever order you want, your progress only hindered by what traversal items you've obtained, such as an ax for cutting, surfboard for surfing, climbing gear for rock climb, etc.

The fakemon in the game are also pretty decent looking, although there's only a small handful, so you're more than likely going to be using oldies. That being said, there's a pretty great variety present in the game with even Megas returning, and new ones at that.

My one gripe is that I think you should be given the flying taxi MUCH sooner in the game, because there's times you'll have to progress through the entire map again to get somewhere you need to go on the opposite side.

Otherwise, fun game! Again, very impressive that this was done in about 2 weeks. Serious kudos. Fun characters, fun adventure, I'd love to see something like this in the future again but with more time invested into original music and more fakemon.

As for my team:

Mega Rusalkat (Water/Ground cat mermaid)- My starter. Like Uranium, the starters only evolve once and get 1 mega evolution. Rusalkat was a pretty fun one to use and super strong, with its mega having the ability Sap Sipper to nullify the Achilles heel that would be Grass types. Really tanky, and also capable of sweeping.

Yusagi (Ice bunny)- My first capture, and also the one that never evolved. Despite that, she was actually the strongest in a lot of cases. Potentially the weakest, but has also wiped out huge chunks of tough teams with a literal snowball effect of Ice Ball. Known for slaying dragons quiet easily, and was the fastest to grow to level 100.

Veewiweev (Bug/Dragon, the Girafarig looking guy)- what I suspect is a convergent species of Farigiraf. One of my early game captures and also very reliable. I really relied on it when fighting everything from dragons, psychics, dark types, even fairies in some cases.

Goober/Arcanine (fire)- Another early game catch, and although he had a ruff beginning, he easily became the most important team member towards the end. With an arsenal to deal with grass, ice, steel, ghost, psychic, ghost, dragon, and fighting types, plus extreme speed, he was often the last standing member of my team and saved me during the final battles of Team Eclipse and the Elite 4.

Gaga/Espathra (psychic)- Yet another early game catch, but ultimately replaced before the last 3 gyms (aka a few days ago lol). It didn't win much, but it came in handy when I needed it most. I felt bad about boxing it.

Gengalita/Mega Gengar (ghost/poison)- my fav mega and a lovely find when I came back to the game after a few months. Gengar was actually caught a day after the rest of these guys back in November, and ultimately became a glass cannon when I finally got her mega. It was useful for a lot of cases- most frustrating was the fact I didn't get a single poison type move for it. Well, in any case, it had psychic and electric moves for additional coverage.

Narlgrimm/Grimmsnarl (dark/fairy)- A late game change up, but a pretty smart one for dealing with more ghosts, dragons, etc- surprisingly it was my main FIGHTING type user with drain punch.

For my trainer sprite, I actually edited gen 3 sprites like Abstract did for the most part, and adjusted my usual character head to gen 3 size. Its a neat little dude.

The rest of the sprites are found within the game files itself and I claim no ownership to them.

Think I might try to finish out Insurgence next

#fakemon #pokemon #pokemon fan game #pokemon abstract #pokemon team shot #pokemon sprites

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newstfionline · 4 months

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Friday, January 19, 2024

Snow, chilly winds in Vancouver shut schools, hinder air traffic (Reuters) Schools remained shut and flights were impacted in Vancouver on Wednesday as weather forecasters warned of heavy snowfall and frigid winds sweeping across the Pacific Coast Canadian city. Western Canada is emerging from a blast of arctic temperatures over the weekend, and while temperatures have risen from the minus 9 degrees Celsius (16 degrees Fahrenheit) recorded on Sunday, federal meteorologists forecast 10 to 15 centimeters (4-6 inches) of snow and a wind chill of minus 7 degrees Celsius on Wednesday.

Why the World Is Betting Against American Democracy (Politico magazine) When I asked the European ambassador to talk to me about America’s deepening partisan divide, I expected a polite brushoff at best. Foreign diplomats are usually loath to discuss domestic U.S. politics. Instead, the ambassador unloaded for an hour, warning that America’s poisonous politics are hurting its security, its economy, its friends and its standing as a pillar of democracy and global stability. The U.S. is a “fat buffalo trying to take a nap” as hungry wolves approach, the envoy mused. “I can hear those Champagne bottle corks popping in Moscow—like it’s Christmas every ... day.” Some of the diplomats stressed they admire America—some attended college here. They acknowledged they don’t have some magical solution to the forces deepening its political polarization. But they’re worried today’s U.S. political divisions could have lasting impact on an increasingly interconnected world. A former Asian ambassador said, “We’ve gone from a unipolar world that we’re familiar with from the 1990s into a multipolar world, but the key pole is still the United States. And if that key pole is not playing the role that we want the U.S. to do, you’ll see alternative forces coming up.”

Traffic through the Panama Canal is being slashed because of drought, disrupting global trade (AP) A severe drought that began last year has forced authorities to slash ship crossings by 36% in the Panama Canal, one of the world’s most important trade routes. The new cuts announced Wednesday by authorities in Panama are set to deal an even greater economic blow than previously expected. Canal administrators now estimate that dipping water levels could cost them between $500 million and $700 million in 2024, compared to previous estimates of $200 million. One of the most severe droughts to ever hit the Central American nation has stirred chaos in the 50-mile maritime route, causing a traffic jam of boats, casting doubts on the canal’s reliability for international shipping and raising concerns about its affect on global trade.

Royal surgeries (Washington Post) The British royal palaces made unusual back-to-back health announcements. Catherine, Princess of Wales and wife to the future British king, underwent “successful” abdominal surgery and would remain hospitalized for up to two weeks, Kensington Palace said, and probably would not resume her official duties before April. The palace did not offer additional details about what procedure was performed. Soon after, Buckingham Palace announced that Charles, 75, would undergo a “corrective procedure” next week for an enlarged prostate.

Pakistan launches retaliatory airstrikes in Iran after an earlier attack by Tehran (AP) Pakistan’s air force launched retaliatory airstrikes early Thursday in Iran allegedly targeting militant hideouts, an attack that killed at least nine people and further raised tensions between the neighboring nations. The tit-for-tat attacks Tuesday and Thursday appeared to target two Baluch militant groups with similar separatist goals on both sides of the Iran-Pakistan border. However, the two countries have accused each other of providing safe haven to the groups in their respective territories. The strikes imperil diplomatic relations between the two neighbors, as Iran and nuclear-armed Pakistan have long regarded each other with suspicion over militant attacks. Each nation also faces its own internal political pressures—and the strikes may in part be in response to that.

For many in China, the economy feels like it is in recession (Reuters) The night before China’s civil service exam, Melody Zhang anxiously paced up and down the corridor of her dormitory, rehearsing her answers. Zhang was hoping to start a career in state propaganda after more than 100 unsuccessful job applications in the media industry. With a record 2.6 million people going for 39,600 government jobs amid a youth unemployment crisis, she didn’t get through. “The endless job-hunting is a torture,” said the 24-year-old graduate from China’s top Renmin University. A crisis of confidence in the economy is deterring consumers from spending and businesses from hiring and investing, in what could become a self-feeding mechanism that erodes China’s long-term economic potential. China grew 5.2% last year, more than most major economies. But for the unemployed graduates, the property owners who feel poorer as their flats are losing value, and the workers earning less than the year before, the world’s second-largest economy feels like it’s shrinking.

UN: Palestinians are dying in hospitals as estimated 60,000 wounded overwhelm remaining doctors (AP) Palestinians are dying every day in Gaza’s overwhelmed remaining hospitals which can’t deal with the tens of thousands people hurt in Israeli’s military offensive, a U.N. health emergency expert said Wednesday, while a doctor with the International Rescue Committee called the situation in Gaza’s hospitals the most extreme she had ever seen. The two health professionals, who recently left Gaza after weeks working in hospitals there, described overwhelmed doctors trying to save the lives of thousands of wounded people amid collapsing hospitals that have turned into impromptu refugee camps. The World Health Organization’s Sean Casey, who left Gaza recently after five weeks of trying to get more staff and supplies to the territory’s 16 partially functioning hospitals, told a U.N. news conference that he saw “a really horrifying situation in the hospitals” as the health system collapsed day by day. The Health Ministry in Gaza estimates that 60,000 people have been wounded, with hundreds more wounded per day.

As famine looms in Gaza, aid delivery remains difficult and dangerous (Washington Post) Describing the humanitarian situation in the Gaza Strip in increasingly apocalyptic terms, aid agencies are urging Israel to ease the difficult and often dangerous process of delivering supplies to desperate Palestinians. Famine is looming in Gaza, the United Nations warns. The World Food Program estimates that 93 percent of the population faces crisis levels of hunger. Disease is spreading rapidly. The World Health Organization predicts that the death toll from sickness and starvation in coming months could eclipse the number of people killed in the war so far—more than 24,000, according to the latest count from the Gaza Health Ministry, with the majority women and children. Aid agencies say the chief factors hampering the delivery of lifesaving assistance to Gazans fall almost entirely under Israel’s control—the Israeli inspection process for aid remains lengthy and inefficient; there aren’t enough trucks or fuel inside Gaza to distribute the aid; mechanisms to protect humanitarian workers are unreliable; and commercial goods have only just begun to trickle in. Large swaths of Gaza remain off-limits to aid workers. Frequent telecommunications blackouts complicate their work. And the war still rages.

3 killed and 77 injured in a massive blast caused by explosives in a southern Nigerian city (AP) Three people died and 77 others were injured overnight when an explosives rocked more than 20 buildings in one of Nigeria’s largest cities, authorities said Wednesday, as rescue workers dug through the rubble in search of those feared trapped. Residents in the southwestern state of Oyo’s densely populated Ibadan city heard a loud blast at about 7:45 p.m. Tuesday, causing panic as many fled their homes. Preliminary investigations showed the blast was caused by explosives stored for use in illegal mining operations, Oyo Gov. Seyi Makinde told reporters after visiting the site in the Bodija area of Ibadan.

Tobacco use falling worldwide but Big Tobacco fighting to reverse trend, WHO says (CBS News) The number of adult tobacco users has dropped steadily in recent years, the World Health Organization said on Tuesday, but it warned Big Tobacco is working hard to reverse that trend. In 2022, about one-in-five adults around the world were smokers or consumed other tobacco products, compared to one-in-every-three in 2000, the United Nations health agency said. Currently, tobacco use is still estimated to kill more than eight million people each year, including an estimated 1.3 million non-smokers who are exposed to second-hand smoke, WHO statistics show. While celebrating the advances that have been made, the WHO warned that the tobacco industry was intent on rolling them back.

Satellites and our view of the skies (Nikkei Asia) There are approximately 9,000 satellites orbiting the world, 60 percent of which are communications satellites that have been launched since 2020. These comms satellites—5,600 of which are from SpaceX alone—fly rather low, and are reportedly causing issues with seeing space from Earth. This is an issue, as SpaceX plans to launch 42,000 satellites, a Chinese rival plans to launch 13,000, and kit and caboodle the major comms satellite players intend to toss 65,000 satellites into orbit.

#headlines #news

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sinceileftyoublog · 6 months

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GUM Interview: Use It or Lose It

Photo by Grant Spanier

BY JORDAN MAINZER

One of my recurring dreams involves missing chunks or even the entirety of festival sets of my favorite bands. I'm always glad when I wake up, remembering that it's the dead of winter, reminiscing on the musical events of the previous summer and looking forward to the months to come. At the same time, I'm taken by the fact that these anxieties are all-but made-up by my brain. "Race To The Air", the lead track from Jay Watson's latest GUM album Saturnia (Spinning Top), puts a positive spin on similar perturbations: rushing through a festival crowd so you don't miss a band playing your favorite song. With sweeping strings and elongated jams with squalling guitars and drum fills, it's the soundtrack of passing by the various stages and the disparate sounds you hear, or perhaps even the contradictions within your favorite song itself, the product of a restless head.

Watson, while raising his newborn son, worked on the Saturnia songs, essentially, in his restless head. Though they certainly changed from conception to recording, each song is an homage to music-making and how it can shape the inner workings of our minds. The sort-of title track "Saturnism" refers to an old-school term for lead poisoning, inspired by Watson and his then-pregnant partner and their child moving into a new house that had lead paint on the walls, about which Watson became paranoid. "An avalanche of cognitive dissonance and harmony / Eloquently null and void / Consequently paranoid / And even though I try to fight / There is a sore upon my mind," he sings, his worries lurking behind every note on the record. There's "Muscle Memory", whose antithesis is crippling doubt, not being able to play music after periods of inactivity. The very title of "Fear Of Joy" suggests that behind everything positive is something else sinister, or vice versa, a shimmery, tempo changing, bossa nova-imbued song that's unexpectedly life-affirming. "If you've had enough of living / Think of someone who loves you and stay," Watson repeats. "Someone who loves you," could be Watson's partner and children; perhaps it's his songs. After all, Saturnia is his declaration that writing and recording is the most remedial act of all.

I asked Watson some questions over email about Saturnia, healing, playing live, and his songwriting tendencies. Below, read his responses, edited for clarity.

Since I Left You: A lot of Saturnia seems to deal with the tangible aspects of music (how it sounds, playing it) versus the more abstract aspects of it (the compositional process, the context). Do you tend to think about music that way?

Jay Watson: I think the way that I think about music is always a mix of those two elements, the practical and the abstract. Purely practical, and the music is rote and stale, and purely abstract, and it's not that enjoyable to listen to.

SILY: The title "Muscle Memory" makes me imagine you, after months of writing in your head, picking up your instruments to bring to life what you were thinking. Do you find you need some warm up time after long periods of inactivity?

JW: To be honest, my ability to write and play music drops off so quickly after a period of inactivity that I'm terrified of taking a break. It really is a muscle you have to keep active.

SILY: "Argentina" is an old, retro-sounding riff you wrote juxtaposed with unexpected tempos. Does layering seemingly disparate elements help you avoid wearing your influences too much on your sleeve?

JW: I didn't really think about it like this. I think that writing with this sort of critical thinking in mind prevents ideas from being interesting or natural or honest. In terms of influences, I have as many as ever, but I find they don't come out as obviously as they used to.

SILY: How does the visual identity of Saturnia (the album art, the videos) complement and/or contrast the music itself?

JW: It's all a reflection of where I'm at at the time, musically and visually. I try not to keep it too focused all together because it can come across a bit product-y when everything matches perfectly.

SILY: The title of the album is an old name for lead poisoning, referring to your paranoia about lead-based paint in your new house. Was making this album therapeutic in helping you conquer that fear?

JW: For sure. Most of my music is about fear and love and how it's related. Making music is my way of dealing with that without having to explicitly talk about it all day.

SILY: The song "Real Life" reminds me of something from Beck's Sea Change. Even if that wasn't an influence or even if Beck isn't someone you listen to, do you admire artists like him with shapeshifting musical personas?

JW: Yeah, I've always wanted to make any music that I've felt like, even if it doesn't come out in a realistic way. The attempt and failure to do a style of music authentically is where new ideas lie, I think.

SILY: How are you bringing the Saturnia songs to the live stage? Is adapting them to a performance as artistically rewarding as writing and recording them in the first place?

JW: It's artistically rewarding for sure, especially because I get to improvise on guitar a lot more than on the recordings. I've been having so much fun just making up lines and melodies and noise on the spot.

SILY: Are you the type of songwriter that's always writing? Anything else next for you?

JW: If you don't use it, you lose it! I've got a lot in the pipeline, but not much time to finish it all, so I'm just trying to get things done one at a time.

SILY: What have you been listening to, watching, and reading lately?

JW: I saw this band Geese in the US, which blew me away. I've been listening to their new record. I've been digging the new Tex Crick album Sweet Dreamin'.

youtube

#gum #interviews #spinning top #saturnia #grant spanier #jay watson #spinning top music #beck #sea change #geese #tex crick #sweet dreamin'

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doomanddead · 1 year

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Embrace the Unexpected with The Medea Project’s ‘Reflections’

The Medea Project is an anomaly. For 20 years the band has resisted conforming to any one style. Black metal growls, sweeping gothic interludes, raspy crust punk edges, and walls of doomed distortion are equally at home in a Medea Project composition. For a band with a reputation for dynamic songwriting, maybe the most dissident move of all is to come out with an EP full of covers. Strap in with me and expect the unexpected as we explore the band’s latest offering, Reflections.

Reflections by The Medea Project

The first track, The Ghosts of St Augustines MMXXII, is a wrathful rendition of a track from the band’s first album. The piece takes its name from an old psychiatric hospital in Kent. This song has the same character as the original, but boasts many subtle refinements. New guitar runs swoop and dive over the plodding rhythm, adding new texture and depth to an already-intense offering. Brett Minnie’s vocals are as dark and brutal as ever, invoking the multitude of spirits that struggled in the place. Pauline Silver raises the dead with drum work that’s even tighter and more vivid than the previous iteration.

Next up is the band’s rendition of Venom’s 1984 single, Warhead. It’s everything I could want from a Venom cover: a sneering, devilish jam that’s been rolling in its own filth. If this one doesn’t get you foaming at the mouth, then nothing will. The Medea Project expands on the original, rocketing up tension with a slow build. Sections of growled vocals smear things oily and black. This track is a caged tiger—muscular, on edge, and ready to rip into you the moment you look away. 10/10.

The Ghosts of St Augustine (Video Edit) is a more radical reconfiguration of the track. This one has been hacked apart and sewn back together to create a whole new unholy abomination over two minutes shorter than its predecessor. Sometimes you have to break things down in order to build them back up anew. This is necromancy at its finest.

youtube

Next the duo tackles Cain, a song penned by Swedish goth metal act Tiamat. It’s an eccentric and totally unexpected re-imagining. The romance and woe of the original are traded in for a hearty helping of avant-garde grit and desperation. The drums set the pace of this dour slog, while the vocals play up tortured content of the lyrics. It’s the kind of unique angle that could only come from The Medea Project.

The EP closes on a cover of Motörhead’s Nightmare/The Dreamtime, and boy is it a doozy! The Medea Project’s version plays up the slinky qualities of the song, dressing this devil as a seductive and creeping gothic ballad. The guitar lingers on the scene with a desert twang, hissing doom metal into your ear. Where Lemmy was all gravel and tar, The Medea Project is velvet, smoke, and poisoned drinks. This version of Nightmare/The Dreamtime is entirely novel, and every bit as dangerous.

The songs on Reflections are unyieldingly bohemian deviations… exactly what makes a cover worth listening to. The EP is available now on Bandcamp, or wherever you buy music.

#gothic doom #gothic doom metal #goth rock #doom metal #gothic metal #the medea project #reflections #cover song #motörhead #tiamat #venom #pauline silver #brett minnie #trepanation recordings #uk #england #south africa

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vasiktomis · 3 years

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Pomegranate, Chapter 17: Quiet Earth, Part I.

John Seed x Female Deputy

Rating: Explicit.

Read it on Ao3 here!

Notes: Thanks all who have been keeping up with this! I'm so consistently floored by the amount of content creators we have in this fandom corner and the sheer level of workmanship that exists here. This is the first chapter of Pom that I'll be posting to tumblr, and I'm hoping to draw up a little sketch with each update. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Big thank you to @shallow-gravy and @consumedkings as always for dealing with my stupidity and being a pair of top-notch angels, and also just like, everybody who takes time out of their day to engage with this? Y'all really sticking with ultra slow burn and I swear after some wicked angst in the next couple of chapters I'll finally be able to throw some well-deserved smut at you. WARNINGS: Forced conversion, descriptions of dissociation and derealisation, explicit language, sexual content, depictions of violence, guns, blood and gore. Canon-typical debauchery.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Don’t touch him!”

Mary May lunged with enough force for John to feel the wake of air sweep through him, even with how quickly she was snatched up and yanked back to her place. The soles of her tennis shoes squeaked against the floor as she was dragged to the far side of the room, unable to be trusted with providing audience to Nick’s Atonement.

A shame, really. It was nicer as a shared experience.

The Baptist rolled his jaw, off-setting some of the tension arising from the shrieks that the blonde flung at the back of his head. He righted himself, taking the tattoo gun from one of his faithful with a gracious nod, and turned his attention down to the pilot currently pinned to the floor. Without a word, he sank to his knees, straddling the man, keeping silent as he could just to listen out for any change in his demeanour. Fear. Grief. Defeat. Acceptance. A sign to prove his readiness.

Nick didn't flinch, breathing hard through his nose and watching with hateful eyes. John hovered an indicating hand over the man’s bare chest, bruised from the fight he’d put up against his capture, mentally mapping out placement. Then, he came in with the needle, beginning with the stem of an ’E’, right in the centre of Nick's sternum.

The pilot snorted, masking discomfort with indifference, turning a wince into a scoff. “Figures you don’t use stencils. I ain’t got a hope in hell of this turning out good, do I.”

That casual old Nick attitude. He missed it.

If only he’d let him do this 5 years ago. He wouldn’t have had to miss it.

John feigned offense. “Oh I’m sorry, Nick. Did you want me to do the rest in cursive? Add a feather? Infinity symbol?”

“For fuck’s sake-”

“Talk about tonal dissonance. It’s not meant to be pretty.” He grumbled. “Might’ve gotten a little more practice if you’d-”

A yell from the rear entryway pulled John’s hand away from his canvas. More squeaking. More interruption. Jerome Jeffries getting hauled into the church, held under each arm by the pair of Chosen that John had sent looking for him.

The Baptist cast a look over his shoulder at them, content with the sight of Jerome adequately beaten and bloodied. “Ahh. Pastor. Try to run and hide? It’s no wonder your flock ran astray with a shepherd so quick to leave them to the wolves.”

Jerome ignored him. No reply. No eye contact. A crime John noted to make worthy of capital punishment in the New Eden. The Pastor was set down beside Mary May, who immediately began seeing to his injuries. Murmuring bubbled between them.

“Did you reach them?” The bartender asked. Must’ve been a negative, because the next thing she did was curse.

“The Deputy was calling when they caught me.”

And if she had half the spine to come and broker an agreement for her friends, she’d be inbound.

“Could you at least gag them? I’m trying to concentrate.” John ordered no one in particular, earning another scoff from Nick. “The faster we work, the less we’ll have to get through once she arrives. The quicker we can be out of this heinous town.”

“Stay away from her, shitbag.” The pilot ground out, this time unable to save face when John retaliated, pressing the gun just a little too hard, digging down through an extra few layers of skin.

“Nick Rye, you’re a married man.” John tutted playfully, resuming his work. “That sin of yours again. Take, take, take. Didn’t think the Deputy to be your type. Wouldn’t say you’re hers, either.”

Nick looked downright disgusted at the prospect. Less concerned for the state of his wife - which meant she'd been a likely getaway. “Always been so fuckin’ jealous.”

“Come again?”

“Think folks are stupid? Think I don’t know you?”

“You don't know me, period.” John bit back, skin on the back of his neck flushing between boiling and freezing.

“Anyone else givin’ you this much trouble’d be long dead by now. That shit on the radio? Reckon you’d be talkin’ like that if your family could hear you across the river?” Nick continued, averting his gaze when John shot him a particularly poisonous look. He didn’t, however, find it necessary to respond to such a veiled accusation.

At least until -

“Everybody knows you wanna stick it to her, John-”

As if he’d been awaiting the chance, John’s free hand shot to Nick’s jaw, aching in protest when he squeezed, not stopping until he could feel the man’s molars beneath his flesh. “That’s about enough from you.” He crooned.

John had his desires, yes. He’d accepted that much. Had he not been sworn to celibacy, he might have jumped at the opportunity to respond to Cora’s advances last night. That said, she was still an outsider, and while her Atonement made the prospect less dicey, he couldn’t consciously consider laying with the woman in real life.

No matter how torturous it had become to gear his thoughts toward anything else.

He could be content with just her company, without making any further advances on her. Last night had simply been a moment of weakness, and he’d prevailed by stepping away.

“If you’ll excuse me.” John switched off the little machine once he’d completed his piece and promptly stood to beckon for replacement parts. Mary May might have gotten away with an allergic reaction last time he’d attempted this, but considering he’d be slicing it out of her within the hour, he couldn’t see any reason for her to be complaining. The bartender had been a thorn in his side from the start. While Nick and his wife had once lent John their...whatever a sinner’s closest equivalent was to friendship, Mary May had always been trouble. Wore her heart on her sleeve and trusted no one she hadn’t grown up around. Bolshie. Almost fucking killed him, once.

John busied himself with needle transfers and a pleasant expression. He could feel the woman’s eyes on him.

Did she think what Nick proclaimed? That complete and utter lie?

How fucking crass. No, he did not want to ’stick it’ to Cora. At least, as far as anyone else was concerned. He was fond of her, and - while yes, he had encountered temptation - if one disregarded the cum-stained, stolen panties in his pocket, and the conjured fantasies, and the purely incidental erection he’d maintained after the Deputy stuck her tongue down his throat last night - there was simply no evidence to suggest to anyone else that he was even remotely tempted to break the rules.

Sex was the furthest thing from his mind. It was mere coincidence that today had just so happened to fall on a morning in which he’d needed to trim.

…

If, however, she were to decide that she wanted to continue what she’d attempted last night, then surely he couldn’t be to blame if he only failed to stop her. It wasn’t technically fornication if he didn’t initiate it. Nor was it considered intercourse if -

“Brother John.”

John jumped, heart stopping, whipping his head around to the Chosen standing at the door of the church.

“What?" He asked thickly.

“The Deputy’s arrived.”

Right on cue, the crackling of gunshots drifted in alongside the Chosen’s announcement.

“Tell everyone to hold their fire.” John ordered. “We have them outnumbered tenfold. The Deputy can’t be stupid enough to create a hostage situation. Direct her here, and peacefully.”

The Chosen’s throat bobbed, swallowing back outrage, and John squinted hard at him, trying to dispel the flicker of green light in the mist outside as it settled against the man’s temple.

“John, I don’t think-”

He never got a chance to act on that incoming insubordination.

Instead, he jerked, cut off by a sickening crack as a section of his skull blew out of his head. Red mist and liquified brain matter followed, splattering against the doorframe, and the Chosen slumped lifeless onto the front step.

John wasn’t so much shaken by the killing as he was irritated by everyone else’s apparent refusal to let today go according to plan. Maybe also the pile of brains and hair now sitting on his once-pristine red carpet. He’d made this easy for the woman: kill everyone he could round up, leave her with no one to claim duty to, and get this all over and done with. Have her home by mid-afternoon. Embark on a new chapter and achieve salvation. It was that simple.

Woe to him for trusting in her common sense.

“Fuck’s sake. Wrath begets more wrath.” He muttered, smoothing a hand over his chin. He didn’t have the patience for this any longer. “Fine. Sister -”

A woman stood from the pews as soon as John made eye contact, equally as unshaken by the scene mere feet away.

“Send out word: the Deputy wants to sacrifice her friends for the sake of a fight.” John punctuated the end of his sentence with a click as he returned his focus to jamming the needles into his tattoo gun. “Give her what she wants. Take her by force.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The smokescreen was beginning to clear, but despite the weight it was taking off her lungs, Cora would’ve preferred it remain just a little longer. At least until they’d cleared out the town. Had they been quicker, it might have lasted longer. Covered their approach to Fall’s End. Given them more cover to sneak about unseen.

The streets, while still hazy, were visible now. It wasn’t a difficult task watching Peggie silhouettes run from building to building in search of her team. Resistance members and civilians were either in the process of being rounded up, or littered the road and pavement, dead. The Ryes, Mary May, and Pastor Jerome were yet to be seen amongst either group.

Same went for Boomer.

Aside from the barking of orders from Chosen and faithful, there was little sound. Knowing how much of a fuss her dog had put up the last time he’d been caught by the Project struck Cora’s nerves. He was his own alarm, and he would not go peacefully.

Not hearing him was an indication of the worst.

Some part of her brain argued against the idea. Vouching that John wouldn’t have hurt the creature. That was her dog. He had to be an exception to the massacre, no matter how vicious he behaved.

She had to find him, and creeping through the rear entry of the Spread Eagle was the first point of call.

Luckily enough, the back door had yet to be boarded up. Peggies who rushed past covered windows hardly stopped to peek inside the place for fear of being tainted by the presence of alcohol. Sneaking in was simple enough, too, at least once Jess had picked the lock.

“I’m going to pretend that door was open.” The Deputy murmured her equivalent to praise, passing into the building.

Grace headed straight in after her, taking a left to search for any sign of Mary May while she took a right toward the stairs.

“You pretend the Cook’s head was already gone when we found him?” Jess whispered.

“Freak accident. You all saw it.”

“First floor’s clear.” Grace announced from the serving hatch in the kitchen, clearly unhappy about it.

“Right.” Cora acknowledged, “I’ll check up top.”

The second story was as dead-quiet as the first. Furniture had been knocked over in the hallway and bedrooms had been raided. None of it indicated anything good, but she still had to know.

Cora pushed open the door to her room, and while she held no expectation of what she’d find, her heart sank anyway.

It was empty.

Boomer was gone.

Only his makeshift collar and a tattered bandana remained atop the rug he’d been snoozing on that morning.

Her dog.

John had either taken him or killed him, just like the rest. He’d do the same to the rest of her team. She should’ve taken the Baptist’s offer before the latter had even become a possibility.

“No sign?” Grace affirmed once the Deputy slipped back down to the first floor. “My guess is either they’re in hiding, or John’s giving them special treatment. If they were dead he’d be parading them.”

Sharky and Hurk exchanged a frown when Cora offered only a nod, notably more meek than usual.

“Was he in there, darlin’?” Adelaide asked, a little too gently not to invite a sting to her eyes.

Cora felt her jaw clench. It was a different breed of nausea, trying to keep her composure under the scrutiny of the rest of the team. She managed to shake her head, and Adelaide’s hand found her shoulder.

“Could still be with the others, yet.” The woman offered.

“So how do we find them?” Jess asked.

Find John Seed, of course.

“Finding them’s one thing. Getting to them might be the harder part.” Cora began. “The smokescreen’s only getting thinner and there’s Peggies everywhere. It's grasslands from here to the hills. No way we can herd everyone across a field on-foot, safely. We’ve got to make sure they stay freed, first.”

“And?” Jess huffed. “We’re gonna kill some Peggies, right?”

The blonde considered that.

“We split up. Search the buildings for anyone who hasn’t been caught yet. Round them up and plant explosives as we go. With enough chaos, maybe we can have a shot at turning the tide in the short term.”

Sharky was practically trembling. “Explosives, like, everywhere?”

“Everywhere. The more damage, the better.” Cora replied. “Adelaide, Xander, pair up. Sharky and Hurk, same with you.”

“And us on range?” Jess grinned, trading a look with Grace who maintained absolute stoicism. “I’m so into that.”

“No.”

…

“Say what?”

“No more ranged attacks. I need you and Grace to head back to the van -”

Jess was advancing on her before she’d even finished her sentence.

“You’re pulling me outta the fight? The fuck gives?” The huntress loomed over the Deputy, incredulous. Cora made an effort to stay put, but Jess’s insistence managed to outweigh her stubbornness, forcing the blonde to compromise by leaning as far back as she could without falling.

“We can’t keep running on short-term wins.” Cora insisted. “We have to put our foot down. No more small assaults. No more hoping John gets demoralised enough that he hands himself over.”

Sharky frowned. “What’re you saying?”

She met his gaze, puffing out her chest, retaking her space. “I’m saying the Henbane Bridge is unmanned right now. If we get word to the County Jail, there’s no roadblock to stop them from helping us win this. John Seed’s throwing everything he can at us. I say we try for the same. I say we end it for good. We’re gonna take back Holland Valley. Today.”

“...You really like that dog, huh.”

“That too.”

Jess looked unconvinced. “So the two of us are running errands while the rest of you are holding the fort? Fucking bullshit.”

“I told you. No more range.” Cora bit back, jabbing a thumb toward Hurk and Sharky. “You’d rather send Boshaws and Drubmans to convince Tracey to send us her best people? No offence.”

“None taken, bitch.” Adelaide grumbled.

Grace exhaled, throwing away momentary hesitation. “We’ll be fast.”

Cora traded a nod with the sniper before looking to Jess once more.

Still unconvinced.

“They have cars with guns on them, remember?”

The corner of Jess’s mouth ticked. Temptation.

Mission accomplished.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The tacky fucking carpet was the first thing she noticed, creeping along Main Street. Bliss petals had been sprinkled all over the road leading up to the church.

The carpet ended at the door. An invitation if she ever saw one. Boastful. Arrogant.

A pang of dread ached through Cora's bones, holding her in place while she drew her revolver. It could be an ambush. It probably was an ambush, but there was nothing she could feasibly do to avoid it. If the others were in there, then she couldn't wait around any longer.

She had to do this. At least hold out until Jess and Grace returned, with or without help.

She'd been running for long enough. All other options had been exhausted. At least John offered the least awful defeat.

Drawing close to the entrance, the Deputy pointedly avoided examining a dead crow that had been impaled upon the wall. She inhaled, holding the breath in her lungs, steadying her heart rate.

It was only freedom.

She opened the door, immediately training the gun out before her, following its guide into the room.

About a dozen Peggies dotted the space, leaning against walls, lining the pews - all angled at the pulpit, observing Nick on the floor. He stifled a cry while John sliced through the final remaining layers of skin binding the tattoo to his chest, peeling the word 'GREED' out of his flesh. Blood pooled on the floor around them, and the moment John had stepped away, the pilot was descended on with antiseptic and bandages.

The Deputy waited for nausea at the sight to take its course. It never did. She was all but numbed to the sight.

"Deputy, run!"

Mary May's voice cut through the silence, and the bartender lurched from her own spot on the ground. Guns raised all around the room, swinging around to aim for Cora.

”Hold!” John barked immediately, unconcerned when the Deputy shifted her aim to him. Instead, he busied himself with washing his sullied hands. “Hold your fire.”

His followers obeyed.

Cora, meanwhile, cocked the revolver in her grip. One foot edged into the room, and she glanced around for the Project’s captives before returning her gaze to John. All on the other side of the room. Pinned. Fuck.

“Hope County Sheriff’s Department.” She announced, staring the Baptist down, ignoring the grin that crept onto his face - like he found it fucking funny. “Weapons on the ground. Step away from the hostages.”

“Hostages?” John snorted. He gestured Pastor Jerome, Mary May, and Nick. “These are guests! This is their Atonement. This is your Atonement.”

“Drop the fucking weapons.”

John’s patience thinned. Quickly. “I’m not doing this with you.” He replied simply. “Not today.”

With his own look around the room, John inclined his head. An unspoken order to which everyone carrying a gun turned them on her allies.

“We both know you don’t have enough bullets for everyone. Nor do you have the time. So why don’t you put down my gun and surrender.”

“Don’t-” Mary May was cut off with the tap of steel against her temple. Warning.

John was right. She was outnumbered. There was no chance of getting any of them out with force alone.

She inhaled. Exhaled. Watched the fondness slip back onto John’s face like it had never left, and set the gun on the floor.

“That’s my girl.” John murmured. Then, he motioned. “Get her ready.”

Cora’s stomach dropped as two sets of arms coiled around hers, each pulling and pushing, prickling at her skin with unfamiliar, sickening touch. Biology told her to resist. Escape the sensation. The downward pulling.

“No, stop it.” Escaped her while she squirmed. “Get off. Stop touching me-”

“Her friends can’t be far. Find them.” The Baptist ordered, turning away toward the pulpit.

Cora’s knees hit the floor. There was no holding the repetition of protests, but even as she consciously elevated the volume of her voice, it grew quieter in her ears. Calculated attempts to jerk away and make an escape became automatic twitches.

One of John’s followers - a female - crept into view, fingers tugging at the top button on her uniform collar. John readied a tattoo gun over the woman’s shoulder, and the Deputy’s mind screamed alarm bells. Get out. Escape. Fight back. Regain control.

“I won’t hurt you, sister.”

This time, she sank, curling forward, angling herself away from the woman. Another attempt, and she wrenched away again, snarling. Then, the Peggies around her must have gotten tired of all the fuss, because the tear of cotton clawed at her ears. Ringing through her brain.

Her back felt cold all of a sudden.

Green material slipped down her arms, and at the sight of her own uniform pooling in shreds in her own lap, Cora ceased her thrashing. The shredded shirt was yanked from her belt and tossed aside, and she watched with growing resignation while John turned back around.

His gaze found hers. Then flickered downward, first to the compression bra, then a margin to the right. “Here I thought you’d be unmarked.” He commented, inspecting what was visible of the old ink on her lower ribs while he approached.

Hands pressed against Cora’s shoulders, and she drifted back until her shoulder blades hit the floor.

John continued to loom until he stood directly over her. He sank to his knees, expression softening with his descent until he was on all fours on top of her. He looked almost adoring, and she hated how it comforted her, just slightly. She hated how the hands had disappeared from her limbs, and yet she still made no further attempt to escape. He had every ounce of power now.

She didn’t know she’d started trembling until his free hand swept over her collarbones, mapping out her chest, calming the gooseflesh beading on her from the chill, or the fright, or perhaps just that this whole thing felt so humiliatingly exposing.

A blush swelled over John’s throat, maybe indicating some straying line of thought. He snapped out of it and settled to sit on her hips. “This looks familiar, doesn’t it?” He teased, hovering the tattoo gun right over the centre of her sternum.

“Dont.” Was all she could manage. Weak. Pleading. “I don’t want you to.”

“You have no idea how good you’re going to feel after this.” John cooed.

One of his fingers drifted along her jaw. An attempt at comforting her, but to no avail. He looked equal parts gentle and feral with excitement.

The machine buzzed, lowering pitch when the needles finally pressed into her flesh.

This was it.

She’d lost. There was no going back, anymore. No more normal, no more ridding herself of this family. They’d taken everything, and now they were claiming ownership over her, too.

The others were being hunted. It was only a matter of time. John was working too quickly. They’d be gone before the Cougars even crossed the river.

Cora’s nerves muted. Sound closed to just the rumble of blood in her ears. She receded into herself. Found a backseat in her mind, away from the sensory overload and the humiliation and her own failure while her body quietly continued: ”Dont, don’t, stop.”

She’d lost, and John wouldn’t stop. Not while he was branding the evidence of his victory into her flesh.

Defeat tasted worse than anticipated.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Bullets whizzed overhead while Sharky and Hurk took cover beneath the window, watching helplessly as the aisle of potato chips and bar nuts was torn to shreds by the onslaught. Dorito dust filled the shop like mustard gas.

“Cuz, I think they found us!” Hurk barked, snapping an arm over his head in defence when a stray round ricocheted off the front counter.

“What gives you that impression?” Sharky hit back, hurriedly setting down his shotgun and shrugging his backpack to the floor.

“How many are there?”

“How about you check?”

A moment of quiet occurred while the cousins glared at each other, leaving their standoff to a battle of no blinking. Then the Peggies outside must’ve finished re-loading, because the back wall of the shop was suddenly being shot into swiss cheese.

They were okay. Everything was cool. Addie and Xander had taken their share of explosives and gone the quiet route. Grace and Jess were gone. Shorty had disappeared into the church, and while he couldn't count the best, Sharky was pretty confident that John had caught her.

Could they have kept on looking for survivors and breaking out captives? Sure - but why do that when they could kill, like 40 birds with one stone and beeline for the gas station? It was conveniently across the road from the church, empty of any and all life barring the dormant tanks underground. An explosion that big was sure to fuck up like a good portion of Main Street. Not even the Chosen would be able to resist checking it out.

Disconnecting the safety switches had been easy. He’d been arrested for doing it like 5 times already. Cops, Peggies; it didn’t matter - Sharky knew what he was doing, and without the giant swinging dick of the law hanging over him, the man was on a mission. Cultists shooting at him was fine. He was used to that.

Threat of death or no, he wasn’t giving up the chance to see this place blow sky high.

“We’ll be outta here any second, Hurky.” Sharky assured. “Just gotta sprinkle a little C-4 around the place and we’ll be gone before it even goes off.”

Hurk was sweating. A lot. He was accustomed to being shot at, but normally, he had more than just Sharky to get him out of a tight spot. “Alright, bro. Gimme some. Many hands and what have you.”

“Fuck yeah. First step, toss some at the tanker outside. We wanna get the place as fiery as possible up here to wake up the big boys underground, and-”

Sharky stopped in his tracks, eyeing the backpack he’d just been in the process of unzipping.

“-uhh.”

“Uhh?”

“Hurky, can I be real with you?”

“Is now the best time for a deep and meaningful?” Hurk hissed, crawling toward him nonetheless.

The arsonist stuck his hand down the pack, rifling through fluff and mesh. “I, uh, I think I brought the wrong bag. And by think I mean know without a shadow of a doubt.”

Hurk watched as his cousin tugged the green, furry headpiece of a dragon out into the open.

“You brought-...”

“I brought my fursuit.”

“Not the C-4?”

“Not the C-4.”

“Okay, bro. That's fine. I'm not mad. Human error. Not even a little bit?”

Sharky checked again, just for good measure. “Nope...so, uhm...you got a match?”

Hurk ran a hank through his hair. “Not to poo poo your ideas, but that probably ain’t the best move.”

So just like that, they were fucked.

Jess and Grace still hadn’t come back. The others were nowhere to be seen. Shorty was holed up in that church, and he and Hurk were about to be rounded up by born-again virgins.

Shit, if that were the case -

“Well, if this is gonna be the last opportunity.” Sharky grunted, tugging the suit out and unzipping the back. “May as well enjoy our last minutes of freedom, huh?”

Hurk took the cue, creeping across the destroyed shop floor and reaching for a popped bag of pretzels. He sat back against the wall, leaning against the rocket launcher he’d propped up against the corner.

“Man.” The brunette sighed, staring at the floor. “If only we had some other kind of ranged, explosive device.”

“No shit.” Sharky agreed. “Some high velocity shit would fix this.”

They exchanged a sympathetic look once the arsonist had zipped himself up and crept over and sit beside his cousin, both leaning on either side of the RPG.

Hurk held out the bag.

“Pretzel?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Was that so bad?” John asked, placing the tattoo gun aside and framing the Deputy’s marked chest. ’WRATH', in true black, beading with blood. The skin surrounding the text was mottled and inflamed. Excess ink covered the area in patches, gathering in the dip of her cleavage, disappearing beneath her sports bra.

All that sin, already leaking out through the exit he’d made for her.

Gorgeous.

Cora didn’t respond. That was fine. Shock was normal. She’d thank him once this was all over. For now, she just trembled, lock jawed, dissociated gaze searching what John had thought was him until he sat up. No, instead she was watching the ceiling.

John flashed a smile, blocking out a tiny streak of dread at the sight of the woman so vacant. Sweeping a lock of stained hair over her shoulder, he smoothed his fingers past her neck, attempting to gently angle her focus back to him. “Hey. You can come back now. We’re all done.”

You're finally on the other side. React to it. React to me. Look at me-

The boom came first, hollow and deep, and John felt the floor beneath him rumble. Chandeliers and decorations wobbled from the disturbance. Several of his followers shot from their seats, immediately abandoning the Resistance leaders they’d guarded in favour of pacing back and forth, trying to get a look at whatever was happening outside.

“Is this it?”

“Is it the Collapse?”

“It’s time?”

“John, is it the Collapse?”

The panic escalated quickly, forcing the Baptist to break his attention away from the empty woman below him and rein in the flock.

“Calm down.” He exclaimed, “It’s not the Collapse. It’s probably just-”

Another boom. Almost deafeningly loud.

This time, the whole church shook. Windows shattered in their creaking panes and smashed to the floor while pews squealed heavily in protest.

Contrary to his assertion, John dove down, covering the Deputy with his body. Holy shit, was it the Collapse?

The tremor must have been enough to snap Cora out of her trance, because a muffled “Get your tits out of my face.” buzzed against John’s chest.

Tragically, however, the Baptist never got the opportunity to reply to her. Had it not been for the fucking tennis shoe colliding with the side of his skull, he imagined he’d have something very clever to say. Alas, pain shot through his head and he jerked to the side, fighting against the blow to stay put. A snarl from Mary May, his apparent attacker, sounded in retaliation. She dove into him, knee driving into his ribs, throwing him off of the Deputy.

His thoughts left him for the briefest moment, overtaken by ensuing gunshots and shouts and the shrieks of the bartender as she was clawed away from him. Her hand shot forward right as she was yanked up, intended as a punch. It didn’t land, and John couldn’t help but shoot her a smirk for her failure.

“Deputy, gun!”

Nevermind. It wasn’t a punch after all. Mary May had been pointing over his shoulder at the revolver that had been surrendered on the floor. His revolver. The same one Cora was now scrambling toward.

No.

John lurched, heart leaping into his throat.

Not now. Not after he’d won. Not when they were so close.

His hand found the leg of Cora’s pants, wrenching, pulling her away from the weapon, and she kicked against him. Her finger tips slid against the barrel of the revolver, tugging it into her palm.

God wouldn’t fucking undo his victory.

John snarled, catching the Deputy’s wrist when she tried to aim - at him no less. Without her own recovery time achieved, he was able to wrestle the weapon from her easily enough, flattening her struggling body beneath his just long enough to hook an arm around her waist. He twisted around, holding the woman’s back against his belly. Her squirming ceased with the press of the muzzle against her head, and the moment her allies had taken notice of the change, everything went still.

Finally.

A little civility.

Several of John’s followers lay on the floor, either dead or close to it. Only a half-dozen remained, though the pair of Chosen had survived and placed themselves closest to their leader.

Pastor Jerome had procured a handgun from within his own bible - something that pulled a breathless laugh out of John as he surveyed the others. Nick hadn’t been able to arm himself, but he’d still tackled one of the faithful to the ground. His knuckles were bloodied. A familiar sight. Mary May had wrestled a gun of her own away from the woman who’d seized her. She aimed it shakily at John.

Armed but outnumbered, outgunned, and now, they were in check.

They never learned, did they?

“The way you people behave, you’d think salvation was a bad thing.” John tittered. “Right. Now, let’s try this again. Atonement, or damnation.” To punctuate his meaning, he tapped the muzzle against Cora’s head. She grunted in protest, and he ignored her. Of course it was a bluff. No one else knew that but him, though. It was too risky a move for the Resistance to let him do away with the one person that banded their factions.

She was their leader. They couldn’t lose her.

John looked around the room once more, locking eyes with Jerome first - then Mary May. “Are we going to behave?”

The answer was immediate and clear: a gunshot cracking through the Baptist’s ears and the flash of a blast spilling from Mary May’s weapon. Cora’s elbow driving into his stomach and the reaction time of his Chosen snapping to attention, covering him, already hauling John out of the church and onto the street.

Fuck no, he wasn't leaving without his prize.

"GRAB HER!" John howled, struggling against the attempts to get him to safety. "Leave the rest!"

It was a reluctant effort, but the Deputy was yanked along as well, shoved into Johns arms on his repeated orders, with me, with me.

“Mary May, what the fuck!” The Deputy roared over her shoulder.

“Sorry Deputy! I missed!”

Missed?

“You sure about that? Jesus fucking Christ!”

More shots sounded, but only the noise pursued them from the building. It wasn’t until John had shoved Cora into the back of the waiting truck that he realised how warm his hand had gotten. Wet, too.

“Get to the ranch!” One of the Chosen snarled up front, casting a look back at the Baptist while the vehicle took off, watching as he peeled away from the blonde to inspect himself.

Blood.

He was bleeding. But where from? Barring the sting of his scabs and that kick to the head, nothing hurt. There were no wounds hiding under his sleeves or -

A hiss sounded from the Deputy beside him, curling in on herself.

Shit.

She hadn’t elbowed him.

“Cora-” John scrambled for her. "Cora, let me see."

“Told you not to call me that.” The Deputy grit out, kicking at him until she’d well and truly jammed herself into the corner of the seat and the car door. Her left hand gripped her right forearm, just below the elbow and to no avail. Crimson coated the skin on her side, encasing her arm completely and seeping through her fingertips.

She was bleeding. Not heavily, but steadily.

”Deputy.” John bit back, advancing. “You’re hurt. Let me help-”

Just like that, the kicking resumed. “Don’t touch me-DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME-”

“For once in your fucking life, just relax!”

Only incomprehensible snarling came in response.

John rolled his jaw, brimming with as much irritation as he was adrenaline. The Resistance had made their choice. Regretful, but final. He’d gotten what he came for, and he wasn’t intending on losing her just because she was too stubborn to accept help.

He glanced at the revolver still in his grip. Then back at Cora, rotating the grip toward her. A threat. “Are you going to let me help, or am I going to have to calm you down?”

“Don’t you dare.” Her words came hoarse. She gave scowling a red hot go, but without the rationale to deny him, the Deputy lacked conviction. She exhaled. “Fuck it. We've done this enough already. You get ten minutes. Then you’re under arrest.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her cheek twitched. A weak chuckle. The slightest flash of acknowledgement as she let him press his weight over her forearm. Thankfully, the wound wasn’t pulsing; nor was there a puncture wound. A gouged strip had been carved into her flesh where the bullet had grazed, but nothing vital seemed to have been struck.

“That - you can keep saying.”

"You're a flirt when you're in shock, Deputy." Had John not been too busy regulating about a dozen other emotions, he might have flushed at her words. For a moment, he just sat there, basking in the borderline friendliness on her face. Then, it occurred to him that they were among watchful company, and he cleared his throat, returning to his task.

Minutes passed. No more words were exchanged. Not until they’d passed the Rye and Son’s sign.

The Chosen in the front passenger’s seat looked over his shoulder, dismissing another over the radio before regarding the Baptist. “The Resistance isn’t making ground. The faithful are still rounding up stragglers, and we’ve taken casualties, but numbers are looking strong. Medic will meet you at the ranch, John. We can deliver our newest sister to the Gate while you recover.”

John inclined his head. “Much obliged. We need this one to stay with us until she’s completed her vows. She can’t be trusted unsupervised, but I won’t put the responsibility of containing her back on our people again.” He looked to Cora, then. Her face had run pale and she’d gone clammy, but she remained upright. Just...woozy. Pacified, for now.

He’d got what he came for. Fuck the rest.

“I have something to say.” The blonde announced, swaying against John’s arm. “I know why Mary May shot me.”

“This another one of your jokes?” John deadpanned.

“This one’s funny, I swear.”

“...go on, then.”

“It’s because I never tip.”

For a moment, Cora looked very satisfied with herself. Then, she retched, slumping forward into the Baptist’s lap when he instinctually jolted out of the potential line of fire. He hurried to steady her, keeping tight hold over her wound, and grimaced while the noise escaped her a second time.

Thank God nothing came out; his shoes would’ve been the first to know about it.

The Deputy didn’t sit back up.

That was fine. So long as she wasn’t dead. So long as she wasn’t fighting back.

“It’s all the sin escaping you.” John explained, off-handed, when a complaining grunt sounded below. “Evil being expelled from your body. You’ll feel better soon.”

“Pretty sure it’s my blood pressure, actually. Soon as I’m good again, you’re history.”

When one disregarded the fact that she’d had a gun trained on him earlier - and the blood drying uncomfortably on his clothes - and the persistent pounding of a headache from Mary May’s heel, this was almost pleasant. The quiet roads. The Deputy, all but atoned with her head on his thigh. Not fighting back. Conceding defeat. Peaceful.

He got what he came for.

He’d won.

He was saved.

Passing his thumb over Cora’s ribs, John’s attention was pulled back to the old ink peeking out from beneath the band of her top. Text, blurred and flattened enough to be years old, and too obscured to decipher.

“Thought I’d be your first.” The brunette murmured.

“Jealous?”

Yes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. What’s it say?”

“‘The Mountains Are Calling’.”

A sickening wave of dread passed over the Baptist. The rock forming in his throat, icy and bitter and seizing him against any reply.

The mountains are calling.

Jacob. Joseph. The Trials. Atonement wasn’t the final step. Handing her over to his brothers was the final step.

He got what he came for, but the woman in his arms wasn’t the trophy intended for him.

He was saved. He’d redeemed himself. He’d completed his task and Joseph would permit him beyond the gates. That was all he was supposed to do. That was enough.

That had to be enough.

“‘And I Must Go’.” John completed quietly.

Cora tilted her head a little, not quite looking at him - almost like she was trying not to. “You know John Muir.”

“Not enough to warrant a photo on the bedside table.”

“Shut up.”

There was nothing convincing about the chuckle he offered. He was too busy observing her, studying the side of her face. Committing her to memory as if he hadn’t spent years acquainting himself with every spot and micro-expression.

“Maybe working for you will be bearable.” She murmured, and John’s heart only sank further. "If I don't manage to arrest you."

The mountains are calling.

She still had no idea that all the promises he’d made her had been fabricated. That she wouldn’t be staying. That he’d lied to her.

The mountains were calling. In a few days time, she’d know it. She’d despise him. She’d be taken off his hands and he’d assume his regular duties once again.

He’d saved both of them.

Cora’s thumb absently grazed back and forth on his knee. Ignorant. “Can I ask something?”

It took everything in him not to mirror the action against her skin.

“Of course.”

“Can I start next Monday?”

"What happened to you being such a workaholic?"

"To be honest with you, I'm really fucking tired."

She’d be incredible. Jacob would love her. Joseph would be proud. John had accomplished something near-impossible for his family, and even if the Deputy hated him - even if she forgot him entirely, he was content with the knowledge that he’d have brought her to salvation.

Even if they never saw each other again, he’d know that she’d passed through the gates. That she’d climb to the surface once the world had been scorched clean. She’d rebuild, and marry, and have children, and he’d do the same.

Hopeful anticipation and the agony of longing had never felt so similar before.

“Fine.” John smiled, giving in, sliding his fingers up her arm and coaxing a stray lock of hair out of her face. There were no promises he’d be able to do it again after this. “But on one condition.”

“What?”

“Spend those days with me.”

Cora stirred, angling to peer up at him out of the corner of her eye. She smiled crookedly.

“Deal.”

#far cry 5 #john seed #cora stammos #far cry 5 fanfic #far cry 5 oc #john seed x female deputy #all hail cora's big fucking muscles #no beta we die like men

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