#commander salvadore
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OC Kiss Week - Lenarius/Salvadore
For Valentine's Day, I wrote up a little first kiss snippet of Leonosa and @dmagedgoods's Salvadore inspired by Len's Commander as a Companion.
Salvadore didn’t expect that Lenarius had wanted to see him so soon after everything had gone on with the contingent from Marhaven. When Lenarius’s brother had arrived and brought with him the revelation that Lenarius had joined the Crusade against the Viscountess’s wishes… well, it wasn’t the worst thing to be suddenly dropped onto Salvadore’s plate, but it was vital for the Commander to be in control over everything, and Lenarius knew that. That Lenarius was even still serving at Salvadore’s side was solely a testament to how useful and competent the arcanist had been up to that point.
Or so Salvadore could tell himself.
He sighed. He was not so foolish enough to believe that, but admission was still a very far leap. He chose instead to believe that it was the commonality in their backgrounds that made him want Lenarius to stay. Also, if what Lenarius had confided about his family after that meeting was to be believed, then the consequences of sending the tiefling back to his Crusader family could be…unconscionable.
Salvadore was not surprised to see Lenarius already waiting for him up on the battlements, though Salvadore was quite early himself. Lenarius looked as immaculate as ever. His hair was in its tight ponytail, and there was barely a wrinkle on his long tailored coat. His bespeckled eyes were raised skyward.
Focus, Salvadore reminded himself.
“After everything that was said and revealed at today’s meeting, you still want to have a word with me?” asked Salvadore. “It must be very important.”
“After my brother’s visit, I came clean with all the details and answered all your questions,” Lenarius responded, still looking at the stars. “I swear I have told you the whole truth about my situation and have not held anything back this time.
“However,” Lenarius continued, “I feel that I haven’t adequately apologized for keeping such vital details from you. Nor have I thanked you for allowing me to stay with you in spite of everything.”
Salvadore had many ideas for how he would like to be thanked or apologized to, but he wasn’t sure if Lenarius was even thinking of him in that way.
“Your sincerity was sufficient,” said Salvadore.
“All the same,” said Lenarius, “that surprised has caused you a bit of trouble, and I can only imagine the disappointment and lack of trust that came with me hiding crucial bits of information about myself. For that I am sorry, and I am very grateful that you supported me when my mother tried to order me back to Marhaven. No one has ever done anything like that for me in my life, so thank you.”
Salvadore couldn’t help the butterflies in his chest at Lenarius’s candor. He reminded himself that he needed to be firm in the face of what had happened earlier that day.
“Can I expect any trouble from your family?” asked Salvadore.
“My mother wouldn’t dare,” said Lenarius. “My family puts too much stock in the Crusades and their moral and religious reputation. The Viscountess wouldn’t throw it away so easily.”
Lenarius frowned. “It wouldn’t hurt the Crusade’s relations with House Scaeva to deploy some of the Marhaven troops to crucial areas in the front lines. Keeping Harol here and finding a suitable position for him was a good idea.”
“I will deploy these troops where I think they will be useful,” said Salvadore.
Lenarius nodded. “Marhaven trains its soldiers hard, and my brother is a veteran from the Fourth Crusade. You shan’t be disappointed on the battlefield.”
There was a pause. Lenarius kept his gaze to the stars.
“I did not accept your invitation merely to discuss Crusade logistics, or your family,” said Salvadore, “and I hope you didn’t, either.”
“Commander…”
He took a step towards Lenarius. “The late-night talks over a bottle of wine. The literature exchanges.” Salvadore chuckled. “It is a lovely location you chose.”
Lenarius looked back at the stars. “You are an intriguing person, Commander…Salvadore. When I escaped from Marhaven to join the Crusade, I could barely imagine the sort of person I would be working under. I can say with confidence that you have overshot my every expectation. You’ve proven yourself to be the most inspiring person I know, brave, confident, and earnest. And prone to rescue poor youngest children from their family, it seems.”
“I was never going to let them force you away from me,” Salvadore asserted. Which was why it hurt that you didn’t tell me what was going on, he thought.
“I see that now,” said Lenarius. “You were remarkable in the Council chambers, as you always are.
“What of your family?” asked Lenarius. “If you don’t mind my asking. Were you happy growing up?”
Something inside Salvadore went cold. He did not mind Lenarius asking, but he didn’t know where to start. “From what I saw and heard of your family, the two of us are not so different. Like you, I also have trouble with my family because of what I am. Though, it seems no one is trying to kill you yet.”
“My condolences,” said Lenarius. “If anyone comes after you, I shall burn them to a crisp. It is only fair that I return the favor.”
Salvadore smiled. The thought of Lenarius smoldering Hemera on the spot with his magic and intense glare would be a sight to see.
“You were right,” said Lenarius. “I did not invite you out here just to talk about my family. We’ve spent so much time together, and not in strictly professional settings. Forgive me if this is out of line. I can navigate around court well enough, but sometimes it is difficult for me to discern certain intentions.”
“Please elaborate what you mean by intentions,” said Salvadore, playing innocent.
Lenarius endearingly saw through the act. “Come now, I think we are past insinuations, don’t you think?”
Lenarius had chosen this venue well. The late autumn evening was crisp and a lovely shade of blue. The stars were beautiful from atop the battlements, almost as beautiful as Lenarius himself. The effects of the Worldwound gave the sky a beautiful purple effect, but none of the unsettling ill effects normal to the Worldwound, thanks to the protection from the Sword of Valor.
It was a perfect venue for a first kiss.
Salvadore traced a stray hair that fell from Lenarius’s perfect ponytail. Lenarius ran a finger on Salvadore’s uniform. Lenarius closed the distance, and the two of them pressed themselves into a kiss. The first one was brief, each of them pulling away for just a moment—just long enough for Salvadore to savor the rare smile on Lenarius’s face—before clinging onto one another once more. Salvadore held on, as if trying to prove that nothing would ever take Lenarius away from him, least of all House Scaeva and its Viscountess.
They were both breathless when they pulled away. Lenarius’s yellow eyes were simmering. The stars reflected on his glasses.
Salvadore straightened up. “Don’t think that I expect any less of you because of this. Your service had better continue to be exemplary.”
Lenarius nodded. “Of course.”
#pathfinder wrath of the righteous#ockiss24#commander lenarius#commander salvadore#lenarius x salvadore#my writing#pwotr pals
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This wonderful drawing @dmagedgoods made inspired a little scenario in an alternate timeline where our OCs can duet their hearts out ❤️❤️❤️
King Salvadore Arendae of Mendev had kept the Andoren delegation waiting, and if he was honest, he didn’t have much of an excuse. He paused before he entered the command room and straightened his uniform—as always impeccably dressed and kempt—even though Daeran, by contrast perfectly undressed and unkempt, had thoroughly inspected it mere moments before.
Suppressing an indecorous smile, Salvadore composed himself and strode into the command room purposefully like the busy man he was.
The Andorens had evidently made themselves at home while they waited. The Ambassador, a halfling, was inspecting Crusade trophies along the back wall, aided by a chair someone had helped her up onto. Two human diplomats stood on the balcony enjoying a soaring view of Drezen’s construction projects. And in Salvadore’s crusade command chair, one foot up on the table, lounged a blond half-elf lazily strumming an odd-shaped lute.
Read the rest on AO3
#pathfinder: wrath of the righteous#commander salvadore#siavash#daeran arendae#woljif jefto#this drawing seriously made me so happy 🥲#thank you for letting me write sal i love him so much
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Somehow I never posted the full picture on tumblr and wonder how this happened.
Daeran and Knight Commander Salvadore by the amazing NuraBelmax.
#pathfinder: wrath of the righteous#daeran#daeran arendae#pathfinder wotr#commander x daeran#knight and dae#daeran x commander#pwotr#knight commander salvadore#oc: salvadore#my ocs
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for this year's pride month I have decided to do icons of canon and my personal LGBTA headcanons for the blands characters. here are the gays 🏳🌈✨
please be respectful towards my hcs. feel free to use these as ur icons! credit is appreciated but not needed
#borderlands#alistair hammerlock#sir hammerlock#wainwright jakobs#brick the berserker#lor the coffee commander#wilhelm the enforcer#salvador the gunzerker#hugo vasquez#august the brawler#august the guy with the key#general knoxx#alphonso knoxx#gay#pride month#lgbt#lgbt icons#ed's edits
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First time playing sal in a long while and I find a perfect DPUH... speechless
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If you're still taking requests and only if you have the time, Sal with ❤️L. 👀
Sorry it took so long to get to this (and that it turned out a bit messy)! For the requests, the eternally dutiful Salvadore. It's been a long time since I last drew a military uniform... I really admire the long, smooth shapes of your character designs, as well as the deceptively simple all white look so iconic to Sal.
By the way, I'd love to know what has him wearing such an uncharacteristic expression...
#salvadore#knight commander#dmagedgoods#emi art#art meme#I hope that you don't miss it this time...!
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✦C.o.D Call Sign Inspo✦
(I've been having a bad writer's block, but, I do have some mini ideas that I can't flesh out. But, I know some people struggle with names/concepts for Y/N's/Characters. So! I'm giving them out for free in hopes it'll inspire something in someone so they don't go to waste!)
✧Somno; Gender Neutral. A y/n that's main trait is being a hyper insomniac. To the point they always seem tired, constantly consuming caffine, etc. But even if they're falling asleep where they're standing, they have incredibly fast reflexes. Could lead to some funny scenarios of finding them asleep in weird places, or, a cute concept (them only being able to sleep when they feel completely safe; ie: with one of the c.o.d characters)
✧Mama; Feminine. Pretty on the nose, but it could also be translated into a different language to match a country of origin. The concept is basically just...an aggressively maternal lieutenant/captain. Because I feel we don't have enough strong MILF's in this world, let alone in this fandom. This could also be used platonically because 141 specifically could use a mom type. Ghost & Gaz specifically.
✧Saint; Gender Neutral. Can be used for a character that's incredibly self sacrificing. Which would make for good fluff & good angst, plus, I think a lot of us can relate to feeling. Partially inspired by a random line I thought of - "If I die protecting you, that's far less frightening than you being gone when I could've protected you. Dying once for you is a peaceful passing, rather than dying every day you're not with me."
✧Salvadora/Salvador; Fem or Masc. Disclaimer; when I had this idea I imagined a woman. An alternative to the cartel story line in Las Almas. Y/N runs a civilian resistance against the cartel and has commandeered a village to keep citizens safe. It's basically a paradise in the crime ridden city. They've been providing sneaky support for Alejandro's men. (Honestly, this concept is pretty specific, and more detailed, and I might break it down more/write it on my own if possible)
✧Copycat/Mimic; Gender Neutral. A y/n that's incredibly skilled at mimicking voices. Whether in different accents or actual voices.
✧Mirage; Gender Neutral. Disclaimer; I imagined this also as a woman because I like powerful ladies. Similar to the one above but instead of just voices, they're just great at disguises in general & particularly sneaky. Like they "fade out of existence" if you look away at the wrong time.
✧Lynx; Gender Neutral. For a small, deceivingly cute looking character that's actually super deadly and quick. Do not trust the toe beans.
✧Nessie; Gender Neutral-Fem Lean. Pretty self explanatory. A character that's illusive and great in water. Bonus points for Scottish rep.
✧Sparks/Fuse; Gender Neutral. Just a fuckin' pyromaniac that can make their own bombs, super impressive and intricate ones. Thought of a scene where they're all in the heat of battle, low on ammo, and Y/N brings up randomly that they were a troublesome teen who almost had a criminal record. Price asks what the charge was and they just light something that doesn't look at all like a bomb, with a giant grin. "It was arson!!" And then they throw a fuckin' devastating bomb.
✧Iris; Gender Neutral. A character known for a very intense/intimidating stare. Inspired by those clips of people losing to Angelina Joline's femme fatal stare. Also, them being able to read a shocking amount about a person purely through eye contact.
✧Sage/Blister/Morphine/Plaster; Gender Neutral. All names for a potential medic!Y/N. (Plaster, for us Americans, is a word for bandaid in the UK. I know y'all prolly know that but just in case)
✧Bee; Gender Neutral. For a Y/N that's visibly smaller than those around them but packs a real hard punch. Also good if they're particularly good at physical combat. "Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee."
✧Sugarcube/Honey/Cupcake; Gender Neutral-Masc Lean. I think the idea of a big buff, visibly masculine, intimidating dude being named something like 'sugarcube' is super funny.
✧Lasso/Big Mac/Stallion; Masculine. Isn't it obvious? Big cowboy man who's aggressively American even if he's actually been a UK citizen for years.
✧Bessie/Cowgirl/Chick; Feminine. Once again, aggressively southern Y/N. But, for fem!y/ns.
✧Tex/Stars/Anthem; Gender Neutral. See above, but this time, neutral. Cause I'm about equality in this bitch.
✧Cobra/Mamba; Gender Neutral. For a y/n that specializes in poisons to kill enemies, as well as a character with any association with snakes. Could be interesting for Ghost to hear.
✧Doll/Dolly; Feminine. A more "spy type" for the classic femme fatal who gets intel through allure. If you've seen my two fic concept posts, this is the call sign I'd give to the Y/N in Price's concept.
✧Tech; Gender Neutral. Pretty basic, a character that's particularly tech-y. Good with computers and hacking.
✧Bunny/Hare; Gender Neutral. For a y/n that's small, but super fast & alert. Bonus if they got Hinata jumping powers.
✧Clover/Shamrock; Gender Neutral. Irish rep. Use this for a Y/N that is somehow the luckiest unlucky person ever. Constantly ending up in situations that are stressful/intense but making it out with barely a scratch. Can add some dissonance if they actually hate this call sign because it's not luck that gets them out of these situations, and instead is there skill.
#call of duty mwii#modern warfare 2#modern warfare#writing prompt#writing inspo#call of duty x y/n#call of duty#call of duty x reader#call of duty x male reader#call of duty x fem reader#call of duty x gn reader#gender neutral reader#cod x male reader#cod x female reader#cod x gn reader#male reader#female reader
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my blog title is from a pamphlet handed out at Janelle Monae's Electric Lady tour, which I have carried in my heart ever since.
THE TEN DROID COMMANDMENTS
I BELIEVE IN THE ARCHANDROID.
IF YOU SEEN YOUR NEIGHBOUR JAMMING HARDER THAN YOU, COVET HIS OR HER JAM.
BE AWARE THAT JAMMING HARDER MEANS: NO TWEETING WITHOUT CLAPPING, NO SEX WITHOUT SCREAMING, AND NO FREEDOM WITHOUT DANCING.
PLEASE BE AWARE THAT THE SONGS YOU WILL HEAR ARE ELECTRIC: BE CAREFUL AS YOU EXPERIENCE THEM AND INTERACT WITH ELECTRICAL DEVICES, DRINK WATER, OR TOUCH OTHERS. THE WONDALAND ARTS SOCIETY WILL NOT BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR MELTED TELECOMMUNUCATIONS DEVICES OR INJURIES RESULTING FROM LOCKBACK, SWEAT-TECH, LEAVEWEAVE, POPARM, SHOCKJAW, ELECTROBUTT, OR ANY OTHER MALADIES OR MALFUNCTIONS CAUSED BY THE JAM.
ANY SONG LYRIC YOU KNOW MUST BE SUNG. IF YOU DO NOT KNOW ENGLISH, SING LOUDLY IN ANY LANGUAGE OF YOUR CHOOSING. BE AWARE THAT THERE IS NO RIGHT OR WRONG LANGUAGE, FOR THE ARCHANDROID WAS RECORDED ALL OVER THE WORLD.
ABANDON YOUR EXPECTATIONS ABOUT ART, RACE, GENDER, CULTURE, AND GRAVITY.
BEFORE THE SHOW FEEL FREE TO WALK ABOUT THE PREMISES IMPERSONATING ONE OF THE MANY INSPIRATIONS OF THE ARCHANDROID EMOTION PICTURE: (CHOOSE ONE) SALVADOR DALI, WALT DISNEY, OUTKAST, STEVIE WONDER, OCTAVIA BUTLER, DAVID BOWIE, ANDY WARHOL, OR JOHN WILLIAMS.
IF YOU HAVE BEEN TO THE PALACE OF THE DOGS, PLEASE DO NOT SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THE PALACE OF THE DOGS. IN ADDITION, DO NOT SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THE DROID CONTROL, THE WOLFMASTERS, OR THE GREAT DIVIDE. ALL THESE TERMS OR CONVERSATIONS ABOUT THEM ARE STRICTLY FORBIDDEN, SO SAYETH THE ZOIDS.
BY SHOW'S END YOU MUST TRANSFORM. THIS INCLUDES BUT IS NOT LIMITED TO EYE COLOR, PERSPECTIVE, MOOD, OR HEIGHT.
LASTLY, PLEASE BE AWARE THAT CHILDREN CONCEIVED DURING THE SHOW OR WITHIN 48 HOURS THEREAFTER MAY BE BORN WITH WINGS. THE WONDALAND ARTS SOCIETY WILL NOT BE HELD LIABLE FOR THIS PHENOMENON OR BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR PARENTING OR PROVIDING FOR YOUR FLYING CHILDREN.
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"Incoming data stream, commander."
"If that's SANGUINE again... I think I'd rather be factory reset."
"Acknowledged, commander. Initializing factory reset."
"...I'm surrounded by idiots."
Operator COBALT and their bodyguard, STONEWALL.
COBALT doesn't seem to be very fond of STONEWALL, or SANGUINE HAZE, or anyone really. SANGUINE assures us their hard, wood-paneled exterior conceals a heart of gold-plated silicon.
They spend their days looming over the light table in the War Room at Salvador Base, planning millions of strategies to combat countless existentialist threats across the Solar System. Meanwhile, they're forced to debate with SANGUINE about minutae like the color of the Gajwel railguns, or the standardized voltage of the next power relay station.
If it were up to them, they would all be gunmetal gray.
Lore here.
#sunsetsystem#art#retrofuturism#illustration#original character#worldbuilding#science fiction#robots
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for anyone wondering why people hate kissinger, here's an excerpt from his death tontine's website:
Sure, fuck Kissinger, but why tho?
Henry Kissinger has played a significant role in nearly every conflict the U.S. has been involved in, from the twentieth century until now. As Nixon’s national security advisor (1969-1975) and later Secretary of State (1973-1977), Kissinger was the architect of the U.S.’s disastrous military campaign in Vietnam during which as many as two million civilians, both North Vietnamese and South Vietnamese, were killed, mostly as the result of hyper-aggressive aerial bombings.1
Despite the rehabilitated legacy he has enjoyed over the years as a “tough negotiator” for fighting for “peace with honor” among bourgeois politicians and journalists, Kissinger’s public career was devoted to destroying every foreign democracy that posed even a minor threat to U.S. hegemony. In 1970, the people of Chile elected Salvador Allende as President in a democratic election. One of Allende’s biggest accomplishments was to immediately democratize the economy, of which the U.S. held 60% of assets. Land reforms were made, and foreign-owned entities such as banks and mines were nationalized in order to lift millions of Chileans out of poverty and starvation, which were rampant.2
The U.S.’s response was to spend $8 million on a covert CIA operation to destabilize Chile’s economy and government, directed by the “40 Committee”, of which then-Secretary of State Kissinger was head.3
The 40 Committee supported a failed coup in 1970 to prevent Allende coming to power, which led to the death of the Commander and Chief of the Armed Forces in Chile, Commander Rene Scheinder. Between the time of the failed coup the CIA would support far-right groups aimed at undermining the Allende government.4
Then on September 11, 1973 a military coup enacted by four Chilean military officers led to the assasination of Allende and a military junta taking power. The Junta would decide on Augusto Pinochet to become President of Chile, which culminated in an oppressive dictatorial regime that victimized tens of thousands of people, with over 3,000 killed or disappeared.5 The CIA would continue to support the Pinochet government, helping spread propaganda to legitimize the coup and delegitimize the Allende government.6 Chile and Allende are just one of many countries where Kissinger has been involved in overthrowing a democratically elected leader.
Even after Kissinger was no longer directly involved in politics, he still pushed heavily for regime changes. After 9/11 he strongly supported for a regime change scheme in Iraq, calling it “revolutionary”.7 The legacy Kissinger has created is one that pushes for regime change throughout the world on any country that poses to most miniscule threat to American hegemony. He set a precedent for bombing countries outside of an official declaration of war, like Yemen and Iraq.
The body count from Kissinger’s actions while working under Nixon and from the practices he developed has reached millions,8 the least he could do is add his own body to it.
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Daeran Arendae, Lenarius Scaeva, and @dmagedgoods Salvadore Arrigo as crochet dolls.
See also my previous work of their daughters.
#pathfinder wrath of the righteous#daeran arendae#commander lenarius#lenarius#commander salvadore#commander x daeran#lenarius x salvadore#lenariusxdaeran#lenariusxdaeranxsalvadore#my art#crochet
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If Woljif wasn't around (I know 😔) would things between Siavash and Daeran would have developed differently?
Also, how about Siavash and Arueshalae? 👀
(And I kind of want to ask about Siavash and Salvadore.)
I haven't been thinking about these ones at all... just a couple essays' worth... Thank you so much 💕
Daeran
This one just doesn’t work at any level.
First of all, Daeran may gradually grow to have respect and affection for Siavash, but he’s not in love. He propositions him because Dae will be Dae, but there are no roses.
So in the hypothetical where there are roses: Siavash is all about grand romantic gestures. This would certainly get his attention. Then not-a-date—seeing Daeran relaxed and open would go a long away to softening relations, though they would still trade barbs. Siavash would be aware of what happened at Heaven’s Gate and feel more sympathy earlier on.
At that point Siavash would start seeing him as a rescue project. This would be bad. The one thing Daeran does want to be rescued from—the Other—he doesn’t believe is possible, and he absolutely does not want or need rescuing from anything else and would bitterly resent the attempt. Sincere friendship and support go a long way, but not some do-gooder trying to save him from himself.
Still, supporting each other through the horrors of the Abyss would create a real bond. In confronting the Other, Siavash doesn’t kill Liotr—he’s all about freedom and redemption requiring assuming responsibility for one’s actions. Daeran says he doesn’t resent it… but does he? The hypocrisy would not be lost on him. The freedom-loving azata turning him over to the Inquisition?
In the even more hypothetical that they got past all that, they’re just not in the same world. Daeran would make a wonderful traveling partner, but ultimately he’s rooted in Mendev with his titles and properties. The sex would be great at first, but Daeran would eventually get bored I’m afraid. Siavash’s absences probably wouldn’t hurt him as much as they would other lovers, but I could see those absences becoming longer and more frequent.
When together, Siavash would be a funny little lark singing in its cage in Daeran’s huge mansion. Dae could easily get him to dress better and refine his tastes in wine and other entertainments, but Siavash would chafe at the aristocratic lifestyle and would not get married or take the title of Count under any circumstances.
They are two men with different flavors of high charisma—Daeran’s in his beauty, his unapologetic forthrightness, his knowing exactly what he wants out of life; and Siavash’s in his cheerful, extroverted empathy and kindness. I think Siavash might be a little jealous of Daeran’s attractiveness and find his brand of charm too sharp-edged. Daeran would be exasperated with his people-pleasing and his sappy tastes.
Tldr - no
I answered for Arue here.
Salvadore
I confess the idea is intriguing 😁
Sal makes his forcefulness, righteousness and arrogance palatable by being elegant and suave, and that velvet fist vibe makes him extremely attractive to a certain type, though maybe not Siavash at first glance. The catalyst that would set off a wildfire would be finding out that underneath all that Sal has a tender, playful side he saves for those he’s closest to. That combination would go straight to Siavash’s brain like sniffing glue. He would have trouble keeping his thoughts straight.
Neither of them is unwise enough to believe it would work out in the long run, but Siavash could fall hard for Salvadore even knowing it was not meant to be.
I don’t want to read too much into what Sal thinks, but he might not be immune to the radiant smile and romantic flights of fancy, not to mention the occasional string duet. Siavash could never be his match like Daeran is, but I think he could make him laugh, and maybe soften his touch a little.
#thank you#sorry for rambling but these were too interesting#dmagedgoods#siavash#commander salvadore#daeran arendae
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Salvadore and Daeran in the absolute masterpiece @pauvre-lola did for me as a commission. I will never recover from how beautiful it is. 🌹
#daeran#daeran arendae#pathfinder: wrath of the righteous#pathfinder wotr#commander x daeran#knight and dae#daeran x commander#wrath of the righteous#knight commander salvadore#oc: salvadore#my ocs#fairy tale of my dreams
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web weaving suggestion maybe?
The desire to be, to wanting to deeply understand someone who you barely know, but feeling guilty because it’s a one-sided intention.
yves olade slaughterhouse: "sugar apple" (via @feral-ballad) \\ salvador plascencia the people of paper (via @lilllium) \\ @lilllium \\ j.d. mcclatchy ten commandments: "late night ode" \\ franz kafka letters to milena \\ virginia woolf in a letter to vita sackville-west \\ hillary gravendyk quarrel (via @typewriter-worries) \\ vladimir nabokov in a letter to his wife véra (14 july 1926) \\ @anouri \\ @poemhater
kofi
#on longing#asks#on desire#anonymous#on love#mine#my webweaving#webweaving#webweave#web weave#web#webs#ww#parallel#parallels#parallelism#compilation#compilations#intertextuality#comparative#comparatives#yves olade#salvador plascencia#jd mcclatchy#j.d. mcclatchy#franz kafka#letters to milena#virginia woolf#vita sackville-west#hillary gravendyk
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At The End - OCKiss24 Salvadore x Minovae
I managed to find time to actually participate in a writing event! We can thank my new ADHD meds for that I'm sure. Anyway, this first is featuring my Minovae and @dmagedgoods Salvadore, who I have long cherished their relationship as much as it's fascinated me. They're what could have been and what could never be. I'm so happy with how this came out - please know I cried multiple times while writing it!
Violet eyes looked out over the city below and beyond the marble balustrade. Smoke rose from nearly every main plaza and thoroughfare, and even what seemed to be the most innocuous of alleyways as well as the highest parapets. For the first in some many decades, nay, a century, even, there was no cause for alarm from this. It wasn’t demons ravaging the last line of defense in this nation that both was and wasn’t, but now could be. The war hadn’t reached here, Nerosyan, the capital, because the war was over.
The Knight Commander had done it. Knight Commander Salvadore had closed the Worldwound. Where no other could, and it hadn’t been for lack of trying, but for all so much bloodsoaked and desperate failure, the war had finally ended.
And by a poncy, arrogant noble with a stick up his ass to rival even Iomedae’s.
Miracles, it seemed, weren’t in so short supply as the name of this age had made it seem.
Minovae sighed deeply looking out over the city with its night sky filled with smoke for the first time not from war but from celebration, her tail listlessly hanging off the edge between the balusters. Bonfires beat back the darkness, and she realized then that the smell and sight was what was making her stomach clench and eyes rimmed with wet. How much like home it was, poor battered and stripped Westcrown, whose nightly pyres weren’t out of any cause for celebration but to beat back the shadow-beasts that stalked her streets once the sun set and feared the light.
A home she knew she’d never see again.
The ache in her mind from Thrune’s brand told her as much. She’d never make it as far as Westcrown once she crossed the border of homeland. They’d take her back to Egorian, where the beginning of this end began, and they’d put the loose end that she was to close once and for all. It was coming. Soon. She knew it was. They might even be ready to disappear her as soon as she stepped from Nerosyan’s walls.
The thought only reinforced that emptiness that pervaded her. She had nothing left to fight for, anyway. Even more, she’d fought alongside heroes. She’d helped do the impossible. The Crusades were over, and she’d played no small part in it. Even the fact she wore this evening not her armor, its weight heavy and familiar comfort, but finery, felt strange. So much of her existence had been defined by steel and blood and blade and shield, and now it was drawing to a close not in the middle of a craggy field that smelled of iron, but on the night of celebration, in a gala hosted by literal royalty.
The liquor in her glass burned comfortingly as she took another sip. ‘As strong as you have’, she’d told the man, who’d grinned and reached under the bar for something so old and dusty she hadn’t been able to catch the label. It did the trick, vapors stinging her nose and warming her throat and gut better than anything she’d had in years, and she reminded herself to thank him before she left for the night.
“Ah, here you are.”
She would have started had her senses not been dulled by drink—truthfully, this was her fifth glass. The clink of the ice as she’d knocked it back had disguised his footsteps, she surmised. He had no reason to sneak up on her tonight, and he walked with all the confidence and bravado his station and title presumed on his behalf at nearly all times.
“Here I am…”, she flicked her gaze to the corner as he came to the balcony balustrade, leaning against it, mindful of her tail where it trailed across the marble. Those icy blues locked onto hers and held that gaze firm. She might have thought it a challenge, or some type of implied order as he was oft to give, had his lips not been lightly tugged ever so upwards at their corners into a smile that was, by all accounts, warm. She stared at those lips perhaps a moment too long, before continuing. “Though I’m not sure it is really you, Sal, with such an expression on that face.”
He took no offense to the diminutive of his name. Not with her, at least. But she did note the quirk in his brow; inquisitive.
“My dear, it is a night for celebration, if you have not noticed.
“And so even the great Salvadore can afford himself a smile? I see”, she smirked.
It felt bitter. Even as happy as she truly was for him, for all of them, the emptiness of her future had tainted this night before it had even began. She quickly returned her gaze to the bottom of the glass cradled between her fingers, dangling over the edge of open air above the city below.
A heavy beat of silence passed. She knew without meeting that gaze again that he was aware something was weighing on her. He was one of the few she’d ever met that matched her ability to read nearly anyone, no matter how inscrutable.
“You should go back inside, you know. It is a night for celebration, after all”, she used his own words, hoping it would rub him wrong enough to just make him leave. “I’m sure they’ll be wondering where the man of the evening is.”
But, she knew the copious drink had taken her off her game tonight. Normally she could handle him as she did other nobles, though certainly not lightly–he’d ever been one of her most difficult rivals. Even admitting as such had rankled her, but now, here, she could only think of the term fondly. She internally cursed the sweet heat cloying her thoughts.
“Without you? Without whom this would not be possible? No, my dear, your absence has been noticeable enough. You have spent enough time endearing the night air with your appearance, when it would be much better spent on the unworthy eyes back inside.”
She snorted at that. Shook her head. “Are you saying I look nice?”
“Is that such a surprise? You look beautiful. It is a crime that the first time I have seen you in a dress, you’ve spent most of it hiding away.”
It was true. She’d been present for the opening ceremonies, of course. She’d even started the night just as lively and bright as nearly everyone else, dancing one or two waltzes with their friends—then, someone had asked her what she would do next, after all this was done.
And the brand seared into her mind had started to ache.
She swallowed down a sigh, not wanting him to hear. Her tail, heavy, almost languidly, pulled itself back up from the plummet she wanted to take before them and instead squished the air like shoulders would a shrug.
“You could have always ordered me into a dress, if you were so desperate to see it.”
“It would not have looked half as radiant on you than one donned willingly. I can see there was truth to your stories. Any lesser man in there would crumple before you, if you had your heart set on crushing theirs.”
Had he always been this funny, she wondered. No, it was the alcohol working in his favor. Still, she chuckled. Heat licked to the skin beneath her scaled cheeks. She knew she must’ve looked much like a watermelon then–those green-tinted opals sitting in a sea of red.
“Alright, alright. Need I tattle to Daeran with how much you’re trying to butter me up?”
It was an empty threat and joke, they both knew. The only thing Daeran would be mad at was that he was not here to see and hear this for himself.
“When I left, he was last doing what I expected you to be doing all evening. Dancing the night away, breaking those hearts with each hand he trades for another.”
“I’m glad he’s enjoying himself. It’s just… louder in there than I remember…”, she answered wistfully. “I’m not used to being around so many people again. At least, not in a war camp… without my armor.”
He knew all about her past navigating through galas and parties much like these. She’d told him as such, how she used to stalk her prey on their own grounds, playing their own game; the Hellknight who’d eschew her armor for a dress and weapon for an invitation to dance, luring the guilty in with honey only to bring them to the guillotine all the same.
She only hoped he’d accept the excuse. Just telling him the truth would kill her. Him, possibly, too. Literally. The last thing she wanted on her record before she went to the Boneyard was taking down the angelic hero who’d ended the Crusades in a blackened, infernal blaze of her brand detonating.
“It has quieted some. The wine has seen to that, and most have had their choices in dance.”
She hummed. “Then surely my presence isn’t that missed.”
“On the contrary”—a shift of movement caught her attention. She looked back up from her glass toward him once more, and found a hand, fingers lightly curled upward, extended in invitation towards her.
“This entire Crusade, you have bragged about your prowess on the dance floor and told me of your greatest triumphs taking down ‘arrogant blowhard fops of my caliber,’”—she felt a rush of even hotter flame to her cheeks and a rattle shook her tail as he’d remembered one of the rants she’d gone on after particularly pissing her off—“, and yet, I have yet to see it for myself. I insist: would you have but a single dance with me, Lady Minovae?”
She stared. First, at his hand, those tan fingers extended invitingly. By all accounts they should be as rough and calloused as hers, and yet they looked untouched by the horrors of the war they’d both fought through, side by side. His nails were perfectly cut and filed, and shone beneath the moonlight. Hells, she swore there was a light glow emanating from it, but she had no idea if it was just from how bright the moon was, or because of the angelic power coursing through him. It looked warm, despite him being a dhampir.
And then her gaze shifted upward, to the rest of him. His blue eyes had narrowed, warm, inviting, despite how piercingly cold their color was. She noticed then that the night had gotten to his usual perfectly manicured and groomed self. Some hairs had fallen from his typical neat style, wayward curls—curls!—teasing his forehead and giving him an almost roguish appeal that made her breath catch. For once, he looked real. He looked mortal. At this, his highest point in power, literally touched by the Heavens and the Abyss alike, Salvadore looked more like a living, breathing, touchable person than at any other point in which she’d known him. He didn’t rise in her that distrust and disgust that normally appeared when she lay eyes upon a noble, even with him dressed in the brightest white and gold finery she’d ever seen.
He looked…
Warm. Handsome. Inviting. Mortal. An ally. A friend. Something more. Her breath caught for a moment. She found herself staring at his lips again, sitting above his chiseled chin and jawline. Had they always looked so… soft? He was doing that soft smile again, confident and controlled, but welcoming. The kind that made you let down your guard, of which the whiskey clouding her thoughts certainly wasn’t helping.
“A good kisser?”, she snorted derisively. “I didn’t know they taught you how to kiss in noble school. I certainly don’t know where else you would’ve learned given how insufferable you are. Unless that mysterious ‘mentor’ of yours taught you that, too.”
Salvadore only made a low noise in the back of his throat, confident and knowing. The look he shot her was much the same. “You are welcome to a demonstration, if you need the proof, my lady knight, Arangeir.”
Her boisterous laugh was all the answer he needed: never in a million years.
She remembered the moment in a sudden flash like it was yesterday. She couldn’t even remember what had triggered that conversation, but she certainly remembered the tease and invitation now. It hadn’t been a million years, but she wouldn’t get a million years. Sal might. He and Daeran together. But she wouldn’t. She might not even get a week. Daeran would forgive her for this, she knew… and well, if he didn’t, she supposed she wouldn’t be around long to suffer it.
“…A dance?”, she licked her lips, suddenly feeling overly warm, overly flushed. Her dress exposed much of her back and shoulders, letting her feathers and scales breathe , and only went to about her mid-thigh regardless. Still, she felt hot. She felt stupid, too, but did it matter? “You can have your dance, if I can have something in return.”
That piqued his curiosity. Salvadore drew his hand back slightly, if only because he’d straightened his posture. His head tilted, and a brow raised. Something glinted in his eye. Concern? She didn’t care.
“Do you remember months ago… You claimed to be a good kisser. I didn’t believe you. What if I told you I still don’t?”
Her pulse was racing now. She could feel it thud-thud-thudding in her chest. It got even worse as realization dawned upon him.
She half expected a slap; he was a taken man now, after all. He might have even just turned around and gone back inside, which, fine. For the moment, though, he only stared at her. She could tell he was trying to decipher why she was asking for this now, why in the Hells now? Could she blame him? Of course not, he had no idea the severity of the truth, of just how little time she had left to do what she wanted and be a little crazy before everything ended.
What she didn’t expect was for those fingers to return. Closer. Curled under her chin.
She gasped lightly, hotly, as Salvadore clasped her jaw. Those hands were cold, as she thought, but the feel of that icy chill across her flushed skin felt almost like healing magic dancing across wounds, knitting them closed.
Her tail vibrated anxiously, filled with so much energy where it had lain dead before. She could feel her feathers rising from neck to tail tip, fluffing up in that way that made her look like an alarmed cat.
Their eyes held each others’, and his additionally held a question.
Now or never.
“You promised a demonstration”, she merely answered.
He needed no other reassurance.
Their height difference made it more difficult than it should have been, but Salvadore had been only truthful in his claims. He knew exactly what to do.
A hand pressed to the flat of her back, directly over the strip of feathers running down her spine and scales surrounding them—now running icily themselves trying to cool her down. She briefly wondered if he even noticed with the chill in his own hands, but let it drift away as soon as it had come. He pressed her close and up, bidding her to her toes as he himself confidently arched downward.
Soft. They were soft. How funny it was, she thought, that such iron and coldness could come from those lips only for them to be so damn soft. Softer than hers. Theirs pressed against the other, and her eyes slipped closed upon the gentle impact. She mapped them in the darkness behind her eyelids, each and every crease, the cupid’s bow, the feel of his breath across her face.
When had she last been kissed? She didn’t remember. Wetness rimmed her eyes again. She didn’t even love him. Love had escaped her at every turn, snatched away always and viciously by circumstance. All she could think of was the emptiness, of what hadn’t been and what she’d never had. His lips right then, for only this brief moment, were filling that yawning void. It was a piece that didn’t fit in this puzzle. Not perfectly. But for a moment, it was filled.
Then pressing. Then prodding. Further still, he took it, and she went rigid in shock before melting as his tongue breached what should have been where this had ended. It brought with it the taste of wine, luxurious and more opulent than any her salary would have spared. Something in her found it funny that for as much as she’d always tormented him about her dislike of fine wines, he’d still found a way to share a glass with her.
At the end. Of everything.
#oc: minovae arangeir#oc: Salvadore#ockiss24#MANY TEARS were shed writing this#obv this is one of the darker timelines I could see Mino falling into - but is it truly too late?#I think he could still free her and save her future but time is short#where is regill in this? she didn't become more to him in this timeline - with her companion quest unresolved he wasn't pushed towards her#the loneliest and most doomed Mino is a selfish and reckless Mino who realizes she has nothing left to lose
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New Releases for April 2, 2024
It seems like this is a big week for releases and there are quite a few different genres to choose from too.
The Misdirection of Fault Lines by Anna Garcia
Peachtree Teen
Three teen girls compete at an elite tennis tournament for a shot at their dreams—if only they knew what their dreams were.
Alice doesn’t belong at the Bastille Invitational Tennis Tournament. She needed a sponsorship to attend. She only has a few wins on the junior circuit. And now, she has no coach. Tennis was a dream she shared with Ba. After his death, her family insisted she compete anyway. But does tennis even fit into her life without him?
Violetta is Bastille’s darling. Social media influencer, coach’s pet, and daughter of a former tennis star who fell from grace. Bastille is her chance to reclaim the future her mother gave up to raise her. But is that the future she wants for herself?
Leylah has to win. After a forced two-year hiatus, Bastille is her last chance to prove professional tennis isn’t just a viable career, it’s what she was built for. She can’t afford distractions. Not in the form of her ex-best friend and especially not by getting DQ-ed for her “attitude” before she even sets foot on the court. If she doesn’t win, what future does she have left?
One week at the Bastille Invitational Tennis Tournament will decide their fates. If only the competition between them stayed on the court.
Misdirection of Fault Lines is an incisive coming-of-age story infused with wit and wisdom, about three Asian American teen girls who find their ways forward, backward, and in some cases, back to each other again. Anna Gracia, acclaimed author of Boys I Know, delivers with a refreshingly true-to-life teen voice that perfectly captures the messiness, awkwardness, and confusion of adolescence.
Just Another Story: A Graphic Migration Account by Ernesto Saade
Graphic Universe
"This is the story of Carlos and Elena, the story of thousands, the story of my country . . . This is just another story." When Carlos was nineteen years old, his mother decided to leave her life in El Salvador for a new start in the United States. Reluctant to follow, but unwilling to let his mother go without him, Carlos joined her on the journey north. During their trip through Mexico and into the US, they experienced the risks and fears countless people from Central American countries have faced while migrating to different lands. Ten years later, Carlos shared these memories with his cousin, cartoonist Ernesto Saade. The result of their conversation is Just Another A Graphic Migration Account . This stirring and thoughtful graphic work goes beyond headlines and statistics to provide a powerful individual account of migration. “Until now, the story of Carlos was diluted between thousands and thousands of similar stories (or infinitely worse ones). However, this doesn’t detract from his story or anyone else’s. They’re not numbers or statistics but individuals whose lives are a reflection of serious problems in the region. This is the story of Carlos and Elena, the story of thousands, the story of my country . . . This is just another story.”
Something Kindred by Ciera Burch
Farrar, Straus and Giroux (BYR)
Magical realism meets Southern Gothic in this commanding young adult debut from Ciera Burch about true love, the meaning of home, and the choices that haunt us.
Welcome to Coldwater. Come for the ghosts, stay for the drama.
Jericka Walker had planned to spend the summer before senior year soaking up the sun with her best friend on the Jersey Shore. Instead she finds herself in Coldwater, Maryland, a small town with a dark and complicated past where her estranged grandmother lives—someone she knows only two things her name and the fact that she left Jericka’s mother and uncle when they were children. But now Jericka's grandmother is dying, and her mother has dragged Jericka along to say goodbye.
As Jericka attempts to form a connection with a woman she's never known, and adjusts to life in a town where everything closes before dinner, she meets “ghost girl” Kat, a girl eager to leave Coldwater and more exciting than a person has any right to be. But Coldwater has a few unsettling secrets of its own. The more you try to leave, the stronger the town’s hold. As Jericka feels the chilling pull of her family’s past, she begins to question everything she thought she knew about her mother, her childhood, and the lines between the living and the dead.
No Going Back by Patrick Flores-Scott
Christy Ottaviano Books
Antonio is determined to make amends to the people he hurt most—even if it means breaking the terms of his early release from juvenile detention—in this tour de force about one teen’s quest for redemption, from the award-winning author of American Road Trip .
It’s Friday morning, and seventeen-year-old Antonio Sullivan is on the verge of earning his early release from Zephyr Woods Youth Detention Center. Having been incarcerated for the last year and a half for a crime he didn’t directly commit, he’s now dedicating himself to his education and his sobriety program. What’s more, Antonio is driven by a deep need to make amends to the two people he hurt the his mom and his lifelong best friend, Maya. The conditions of his early release are clear—Antonio can’t have any contact with his father or miss his first meeting with his parole officer Monday morning. But a lot can happen between Friday and Monday, especially when the odds are against you.
Told through time-stamped chapters that race at a fever pitch over the course of a weekend, this absorbing coming-of-age novel explores what it means to right past wrongs in the face of adversity.
Darker by Four by June CL Tan
HarperTeen
From Jade Fire Gold author June CL Tan, Darker by Four is the launch of an epic, sweeping contemporary fantasy duology that is the Shadowhunter Chronicles meets the Chinese underworld, drawing inspiration from diaspora folklore.
A vengeful girl. A hollow boy. A missing god.
Rui has one goal in mind—honing her magic to avenge her mother’s death.
Yiran is the black sheep of an illustrious family. The world would be at his feet—had he been born with magic.
Nikai is a Reaper, serving the Fourth King of Hell. When his master disappears, the underworld begins to crumble…and the human world will be next if the King is not found.
When an accident causes Rui’s power to transfer to Yiran, everything turns upside down. Without her magic, Rui has no tool for vengeance. With it, Yiran finally feels like he belongs. That is, until Rui discovers she might hold the key to the missing death god and strikes a dangerous bargain with another King.
As darkness takes over, three paths intersect in the shadows. And three lives bound by fate must rise against destiny before the barrier between worlds falls and all Hell breaks loose—literally.
The Black Girl Survives in this One: Horror Stories edited by Desiree S. Evans & Saraciea J. Fennell
Flatiron Books
Be warned, dear reader: The Black girls survive in this one.
Celebrating a new generation of bestselling and acclaimed Black writers, The Black Girl Survives in This One makes space for Black girls in horror. Fifteen chilling and thought-provoking stories place Black girls front and center as heroes and survivors who slay monsters, battle spirits, and face down death. Prepare to be terrified and left breathless by the pieces in this anthology.
The bestselling and acclaimed authors include Erin E. Adams, Monica Brashears, Charlotte Nicole Davis, Desiree S. Evans, Saraciea J. Fennell, Zakiya Dalila Harris, Daka Hermon, Justina Ireland, L. L. McKinney, Brittney Morris, Maritza & Maika Moulite, Eden Royce, and Vincent Tirado, with a foreword by Tananarive Due.
Fate Be Changed: A Twisted Tale by Farrah Rochon
Disney Hyperion
What if the witch gave Merida a different spell? This New York Times best-selling series twists Disney Pixar's Brave into a fast-paced story in which Merida is sent back in time.
If you could change your fate, would you? Merida understands that as princess of Clan DunBroch, she has certain obligations—but that doesn’t mean she has to like it. Especially when one of those obligations means losing her freedom by becoming betrothed to a man she has never met. Merida balks at this tradition, but her mother Queen Elinor insists that Merida must do this to embrace her role as future queen.
Determined to chart her own path, Merida follows magical wisps to a witch’s cottage, where she is given a magic pastry and promised it will incite “a great transformation” in her mother. But instead of feeding Elinor the pastry, Merida eats it herself.
Merida awakens in the past, a now-teenage Elinor holding a knife to her throat and accusing her of espionage. She’s been transported to a time when the Clans MacCameron and DunBroch are bitter enemies. And it just so happens that the timing of Merida’s arrival has kept Elinor and Fergus from meeting.
Will Merida be able to bridge the rival clans, help her parents fall in love, and change her own fate?
The Breakup Lists by Adib Khorram
Dial Books
Love is more complicated than “boy meets boy” in bestselling author Adib Khorram’s sharply funny new romantic comedy, set in the sordid world of high school theater
Jackson Ghasnavi is a lot of things—a techie, a smoothie afficionado, a totally not obsessive list-maker—but one thing he’s not is a romantic. And why would he be? He’s already had a front row seat to his parents’ divorce and picked up the pieces of his sister Jasmine’s broken heart one too many times.
No, Jackson is perfectly happy living life behind the scenes—he is a stage manager, after all—and keeping his romantic exploits limited to the breakup lists he makes for Jasmine, which chronicle every flaw (real or imagined) of her various and sundry exes.
Enter the senior swim captain turned leading man that neither of the Ghasnavi siblings stop thinking about. Not that Jackson has a crush, of course. Jasmine is already setting her sights on him and he’s probably—no, definitely—straight anyway.
So why does the idea of eventually writing a breakup list for him feel so impossible?
Wrath of the Talon (Talons, #2) by Sophie Kim
Entangled Teen
Everyone thinks the Reaper of Sunpo—eighteen-year-old assassin Shin Lina—is dead. The only ones who know the truth are her cherished little sister and Haneul Rui, the icily gorgeous Dokkaebi Emperor, who she was sent to kill…and kissed instead.
Now, with the potent Imugi venom surging in her veins, Lina’s returned to right all wrongs. Already her body is changing, growing stronger, stealthier, and more agile, with serpentine scales she can call at will. She is living vengeance, seeking retribution for the massacre of the Talons. She’ll become the sword who cuts down the rival Blackbloods gang, along with their ruthless crime-lord leader. And when she is through, she will take the kingdom as her own.
But there is a mysterious side to Lina’s growing power, a dark voice inside her that whispers and guides her as she slips through the shadows of Sunpo’s streets. One that warns her not to trust the Dokkaebi, especially Rui.
Because if her destiny isn’t to love him…it must be to destroy him.
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