#a collection of a fleeting brotherhood

[callmegaith]

Once, we were brothers. From the womb; to my hand, to your hand, and to death, to the end

#Rusty Lake #Jakob Eilander #david eilander #a collection of a fleeting brotherhood #fandom: rusty lake #Mr. Rabbit #Mr. Owl #ppl told me to draw Jakob with hair more #which is the only reason older him still has hair #but bald Jakob my beloved xD

[choidaisy]

╭─────────────── ╰ · ❥ · — 𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑡 1: "𝑊ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑈𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑦: 𝐷𝑎𝑖𝑠𝑦'𝑠 𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐺𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑝'𝑠 𝑈𝑛𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑃𝑎𝑡ℎ"

𝒩𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠: 𝒯ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝒮𝑒𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑜𝑙'𝑠 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒, 𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑢𝑝𝑜𝑛 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝒟𝑎𝑖𝑠𝑦'𝑠 𝑑𝑒𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒. 𝒲𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠: 1,588.

𝑠𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠 | 1 |

On that fateful day in the dance studio, the atmosphere crackled with anticipation as we prepared for another demanding session. The intricate choreography presented its challenges, but those seemed trivial compared to the peculiar ambiance enveloping Daisy. It was as if the very air surrounding her carried an enigmatic narrative.

I keenly observed each movement, every fleeting glance, in an attempt to unravel the unfolding story. Daisy, typically radiating infectious energy, now maintained an unusual silence. Her dance steps lacked the usual confidence that set her apart.

Struggling to maintain the choreography's rhythm, her manager discreetly gestured, signaling her departure from the room. "I'll be right back," echoed her words, leaving a lingering sense of unease in the room. The door closed with a soft thud, sealing off the dance studio—a space that had once been a sanctuary of artistic expression. Now, it was saturated with an uncomfortable silence that hung heavily in the air. Glances exchanged among the members mirrored a collective sense of bewilderment, yet not a single one of us dared to shatter the oppressive quietude.

As time crawled by, Daisy's absence became increasingly conspicuous. Every dragging second heightened the uncertainty that had taken hold of us. However, she never returned. The void left in her wake was tangible, and the dance studio, where coordinated movements had once echoed, now lay engulfed in a somber hush.

As I sought her out to unravel the mystery, I received the devastating news: Daisy had left both the company and the group.

"Wait, what?" I exclaimed, my voice echoing through the cold, sterile corridors of the company. "Daisy left? Both the company and the group?"

The words hung in the air, each syllable registering in my mind with a heavy weight. I stood there, bewildered, confused, unable to comprehend the reason behind it all.

"But why?" I muttered to myself, running a hand through my hair in frustration. "What could drive her to do this?"

They told me the decision had come from her. However, to me, it simply didn't make sense. Even if she had her reasons to walk away from everything, this definitely wouldn't be a choice she'd make willingly.

I walked through the corridors of the company, each step intensifying the void she had left behind. The office, once buzzing with activity, now seemed desolate and hollow. Daisy's absence echoed through the hallways, leaving a haunting reminder of what once was.

"I need answers," I muttered to myself, determination in my eyes. "I need to understand why she did this."

I questioned myself about what could have driven Daisy to make such a radical decision. Our group, a brotherhood, had been shaken to its core. I missed her, not just as a fellow member, but as a presence that somehow maintained the balance among us.

The rehearsal studio, where creativity once flourished, now felt empty and devoid of life. I could almost hear the echoes of our laughter and shared dreams, all replaced by a lingering silence.

"I never thought I'd see the day," I whispered, my steps faltering as I reached the studio. "Daisy, what happened? What made you leave us like this?"

Encountering one of the management figures, I pressed for more details. They informed me that she had submitted a letter explaining her decision, yet reading the words didn't dispel the confusion lingering in my mind. Daisy had departed from both the group and the company, but the reasons behind it remained obscure, as if she had taken the motives with her.

"Did she not realize she would leave an irreplaceable void in our group?" I silently questioned. I couldn't accept the idea that she had willingly chosen this path. We knew Daisy well enough to understand that she was made of a stronger fiber, capable of facing challenges without needing to distance herself from everything we knew.

As I made my way back to the studio, the air felt heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions. The dimly lit corridor echoed my footsteps, creating an atmosphere that mirrored the unsettling situation. I attempted to contact Daisy, reaching out through calls and messages, desperately seeking a connection that seemed to elude me.

The eerie silence that enveloped her actions intensified my frustration and concern. It was as if the walls themselves held their breath, awaiting a response that never came. I stood there, hands pressed to my temples, grappling with the daunting task of sharing the news with the other members.

With each unanswered call, a sense of foreboding settled over our group. The void left by her absence deepened, casting a shadow over our once vibrant camaraderie. The ignored messages became a testament to the growing uncertainty that now loomed over us, a dark cloud threatening the unity we had cherished.

Daisy's deliberate avoidance of connection left us grappling with unanswered questions, a feeling of helplessness tightening its grip. The studio, once a space of creativity and collaboration, now echoed with the haunting echoes of unanswered calls and the palpable void left by her absence.

I walked back in a haze, my expression catching the attention of some members who quickly asked if something had happened, questioning Daisy's whereabouts. So, I gathered everyone, preparing to share the news.

The faces of the members became a mix of confusion and apprehension as they waited, silent, for the revelation. With a deep sigh, I conveyed the painful truth: "Daisy left the company and the group. I tried to reach out to her, but got no response."

The impact of the news was immediate. First, there was shock, evident in the bewildered expressions of the members. Then, a heavy silence settled over us, filling the room with palpable tension. Finally, chaos ensued as divergent opinions erupted in the room.

Some members criticized her choice, pointing out the potential risks it posed to the group's cohesion. They accused her of selfishness, questioned her loyalty to Seventeen. Others, however, fervently defended her, recognizing that she had her reasons, her personal dilemmas that led to this drastic decision. The rehearsal studio, once a space of creation and harmony, became the stage for a battle of emotions. Words flew, and the tension reached a boiling point. Seventeen, once an unbreakable brotherhood, now faced the storm unleashed by Daisy's departure, and I stood at the epicenter of this turbulence, trying to find a path through the waves of discord.

I noticed Mingyu in the corner of the studio, sitting on the floor against the wall, in silence, hands on his head, lost in thought. At that moment, I judged that it was more important to check on Mingyu's state than to end the discussions.

I sat beside him to assess his condition. Mingyu was immersed in guilt, linking the last argument they had to Daisy's decision. He blamed himself incessantly, and the weight of responsibility for her departure burdened his shoulders. They hadn't had time to apologize.

"Mingyu, how are you?" I asked, seeking eye contact. He lifted his gaze, revealing eyes filled with internal conflicts. "Don't blame yourself. No one could have predicted this, and it's not your fault."

Mingyu sighed, and a heavy silence hung between us. I realized that, behind the facade of strength he displayed, there was a heart wounded by Daisy's abrupt absence. After all, we were a family, and the departure of a member affected each of us uniquely.

"We didn't get a chance to apologize," Mingyu murmured, his gaze lost in emptiness. "The last conversation we had was an argument, and now she's gone."

The intricacies of the situation became clear to me. The absence of closure in Mingyu's relationship with Daisy added an extra layer to the emotional weight we all carried. In this fragile moment, I recognized that, alongside dealing with the aftermath of Daisy's departure, we also had to confront our own lingering wounds and regrets.

Mingyu departed from the studio with weighted steps, prompting my decision to conclude rehearsals for the day. The atmosphere had lost its spark for creativity. Upon arriving at the dormitory, Daisy's belongings remained, a silent testament to her missing presence. An unspoken hush enveloped us, and words felt ensnared in our throats.

The members, once united in laughter and shared dreams, now maintained an uncomfortable distance. Avoiding each other's gazes, they were immersed in their individual thoughts and emotions. It felt as though Daisy's departure had created a rift in the harmony we had carefully nurtured over the years.

Surveying the room, once vibrant with the energy of thirteen talented youths, Daisy's personal items stood out, serving as poignant reminders of her indelible presence. Photographs and forgotten objects—each one echoing the stark reality of her absence. The studio and dormitory transformed into vacant spaces, reverberating with the nostalgia of what we used to be.

We sat, each lost in our own reflections. Gazing towards the uncertain future of the group, I pondered how Daisy's absence would shape our journey. She wasn't just a member; she was an integral part of our collective path.

I wished, from the depths of my heart, that wherever Daisy was, she was well. I hoped she found the peace she sought, and that the future held joys that life in Seventeen, for some reason, couldn't provide.

What was clear in that moment was that Daisy's departure had left our family in pieces. And as we faced an uncertain future, we carried with us the memory of a part of us that, somehow, would always be absent.

#svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst #svt #seventeen fluff #seventeen series #scoups #jeonghan #hoshi #jun #the8 #wonwoo #mingyu #dk #dino #joshua #choi seungcheol #yoon jeonghan #kwon soonyoung #wen junhui #xu minghao #jeon wonwoo #kim mingyu #lee seokmin #lee chan #hong jisoo #woozi #lee jihoon #vernon #hansol vernon chwe

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

Do you give recs? I'm looking for some woke-free medias to consume (books particularly, but it can be anything)

It's hard to give recs without knowing your taste, but I'll try. Necessarily, many of these will be older things, so sorry if that bothers you

Books:

The Lost Fleet series by Jack Campbell (sci-fi)

The Nightside series by Simon R Green (urban fantasy/detective noir)

The Deathstalker series by Simon R Green (there are gay side characters in a few of the books, but the books themselves aren't woke. Just good sci-fi/space opera)

Any Conan the Barbarian story written by Robert Howard or Robert Jordan (fantasy)

The Destroyermen series by Taylor Anderson (disclaimer I'm only up to book 4 out of 15 and the last book was published in 2020 so it may have gotten woke or started to suck later on, but right now it's pretty good and pretty pro-American. Alternate history action sci-fi)

The Dresden Files series by Jim Butcher (urban fantasy)

Any Dune book by Frank Herbert or Kevin J Anderson and Brian Herbert (sci-fi)

The Temeraire series by Naomi Novik (only read the first three out of nine so same disclaimer as Destroyermen. Alternate history fantasy. Napoleonic Wars with dragons)

The Sharpe series by Bernard Cornwell (also the excellent film adaptations of the books with Sean Bean if you can find them. Historical fiction. You follow Richard Sharpe through the ranks of the British army during the Napoleonic Wars)

The Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkien (the grandfather of modern fantasy)

The collected works of HP Lovecraft (definitely not PC or woke. His cat makes an appearance in one of his stories. Horror)

The Hellbound Heart by Clive Barker (horror. Hellraiser was based on this novella. tentative rec because it's good, but there's a lot of mentioned sex and very liberal attitudes towards sex so I don't know if you'd consider that woke or not. The sex obsessed characters are the bad guys though)

Any of the pre-Disney "canon" Star Wars expanded universe books.

Any of the Star Trek books written by William Shatner (they're all a connected series though so read them in order)

If non-woke is your main criteria, I'd suggest giving the Witcher books by Andrzej Sapkowski a try. I personally hated the little bit of the first one I read, and I hate the Witcher series in general, but no one can argue that the Witcher is in any way woke, lol

Codex Alera series by Jim Butcher (fantasy)

Phantoms by Dean Koontz (also recommend the movie with a very young Ben Affleck, but if you rent it on Prime use headphones. Audio is all fucked up through a surround sound system. At least it was when I rented it a few years back. horror)

The Legend of Drizzt series (and the associated sub-series) by RA Salvatore (fantasy. I stopped reading at the Transitions series--books 20-22--because I personally didn't like them and the way they changed the characters and the setting, but YMMV. I'd highly recommend books 1-19 though. Great fantasy series in my favorite D&D setting, the Forgotten Realms)

The Giver by Lois Lowry (young adult book, but has a great message of individuality and anti-government)

Since you wanted books mostly I'll just breeze through movies, shows, comics and games with a few of my favorites:

Movies - Equilibrium, Lord of the Rings, pre-Disney Star Wars, Alien, Aliens, Predator, Predator 2, Hellraiser 1 + 2, Friday the 13th series, Halloween series, The Patriot, In the Mouth of Madness, Sonic the Hedgehog 1 + 2

Shows - Jericho, X-Files, Star Trek (OS, TNG and DS9 especially. Anything nu-Trek is easily skippable), Chernobyl, Avatar The Last Airbender, Lost (it's not confusing if you just pay attention!)

Anime - Fullmetal Alchemist (both series are good but Brotherhood follows the manga more closely), Death Note, Bungo Stray Dogs, Yowamushi Pedal, Ace of Diamond, Yuri on Ice (super gay but funny and heartwarming and not woke beyond the two male leads being stupidly in love with each other even if it's never mentioned explicitly), Street Fighter II V. Honestly most anime isn't woke at all, so just look around for things that seem interesting to you and you're probably good there

Comics - Batman: No Man's Land, Batman: Knightfall, Batman: Bruce Wayne Murderer/Fugitive, Batman: The Killing Joke, any Marvel Masterwork collection, any Dark Horse Alien or Predator or Alien vs Predator comic, Spawn. Special mention: Isom and the Rippaverse. The Rippaverse is a new shared comic universe created by Eric July, self-described anarcho-capitalist and contributor to The Blaze that's specifically designed from the ground up to not be woke and offer a customer first mentality. They promise that the various books they're planning on releasing will focus on story and characters, not politics or social justice crap. So far, only Isom #1 has come out, and I haven't gotten my copy yet, but most people who've read it seem to love it, and that one comic alone has already sold over 43,000 copies and made $3.7 million so early adopting is probably a safe bet.

Games - Metal Gear Solid series, Batman: Arkham series, Halo 1-3, Mass Effect Legendary Edition, Greedfall, Dishonored series, Edge of Eternity, Metro series, Mafia 1+2, Elden Ring. Pretty much any game before the mid-2010s is a safe bet for non-woke, so like anime, you should just look at older games you think you might like, or their remasters, and go from there.

So that's my list. It's by no means complete, and there's no real order to the recs, so just look them up and see what, if anything, appeals to you. If you, or anyone else, want more specific recommendations or an opinion on a certain title or series that I mentioned or even ones I didn't, feel free to ask. I'll help if I can. Mostly what I read and watch are sci-fi, fantasy, horror, and things like that. I don't really read typical bestsellers or westerns or comedies. So I might be much help with those genres.

[sapricorn]

hello cyan!

i've been on a hunt for people's top 10 lists! would you be so kind as to share with me your faves for these? i'd really appreciate it!

a) movies b) shows (anime included) c) games (mobile included) d) books (manga not included :( ) e) music artists

i know it's a lengthy ask but if you would find the time for these, i would appreciate it so much really! <3

q.

Hello Q! I'm sorry it took me so long to respond, you gave me much to think about! Don't know why you collect these answers but I hope you enjoy them!

Some categories were hard to figure out but it was nice trying to remind myself my favorites.

a) top 10 movies

Princess Mononoke (1997) (easy pick, I love this one the most)

Dead Poet Society (1989)

Indiana Jones series (1981-1989) (I can stomach the Crystal Skull but I'd rather not to?)

Lord of The Rings series (2001-2003)

Pelíšky/Cozy Dens (1999) (A Czech movie that literally means Christmas to me - it is a must to watch with my dad on Christmas Eve, the only tradition about that day that I actually enjoy, it's full of czech humour and history)

Noc na Karlštejně/A Night at Karlstein (1974) (Another Czech movie, or actually a musical that I know all the songs to, seen an adaptation in theatre and it was lit as fuck)

Angélique series (1964-1968) (quite a questionable movie series in terms of sexual themes and women's rights but I do attribute my queer awakening to this character and that needs to wield some weight)

Children of Men (2006)

Batman (2005-2012 Nolan Trilogy)

Isle of Dogs (2018) (the first time I went over to my girlfriend's, we watched this... amazing movie, amazing memory.. amazing girlfriend <3)

(my practice animation of a Princess Mononoke scene for English class)

b1) top 10 shows (no anime)

(I don't watch that many shows that are not anime so this list is not really most to least favorite - only the top 3 are sorted, the rest is just written out)

Avatar: The Last Airbender (animated, not the Netflix one)

Castlevania

Buffy The Vampire Slayer

Game of Thrones

The Boys

Invincible

The 100 (the first few seasons, the ending is insane, me not likey)

Helluva Boss

Arcane

The Umbrella Academy

b2) top 10 shows (only anime)

Wolf's Rain (watched it once years ago... will never watch it again because it causes me anguish, I love it though)

Yuri!! on Ice (it's a once-a-month watch)

Dr. Stone (during exam season I play it on repeat: 1st+2nd season on day 1, Ryuusui Special+3rd season on day 2, repeat!)

The Disastrous Life of Saiki K.

The 86

Sasaki To Miyano (healing my little gay heart)

Ao No Exorcist (I love the manga and the movie!!! show is just okay)

Death Note

Kimetsu no Yaiba (the first manga I've ever read from start to finish was this one and therefore the show holds a special place in my heart - also the quote on most my sites: "Growing old and dying is the beauty of the fleeting creature called a human being" is from the manga and also hanging on my wall, it's my fave manga panel ever)

SK8 The Infinity

Honorable mentions: Boku No Hero Academia, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, Jujutsu Kaisen, Trigun & Trigun Stampede, 91 Days, Bungo Stray Dogs, Black Clover, Gintama, Link Click, Heaven Official's Blessing :)

c) top 10 games

(going to be completely honest...I have not played a single video game before 2019 - my family thinks games cause rotten brains and I agree with that statement, at the same time I love games.. justf FYI I am very inexperienced)

(another note: I LOVE open worlds - I like climbing shit and falling off cliffs, I love going on my own and fighting shit and solving puzzles)

Genshin Impact

Assassin's Creed (I love Brotherhood, have and like 2nd and Odyssey, have but haven't played Syndicate yet, HATE Unity [the controls suck ass], I watched some gameplay of other games, I love the series overall)

Honkai: Star Rail

The Witcher

Tears of Themis (I try and play alot of games like this but they don't have Vyn Richter so what's the point of them really? [insert megamind meme: no vyn richter?])

Minecraft (I like building, and one of my last memories with one of my besties was from multiplayer, I have our last world saved with a mausoleum in the place of his spawn - it keeps precious memories)

NU:Carnival (the fashion is offensively awesome, big inspiration for my character designs sometimes)

Legend of Zelda (sounds and looks like a game I would love but I have yet to experience it on my own)

The Silent Age (first game I owned on my own and played start to finish without anybody else's input, it's very simple and somewhat boring but I like the vibe and I like the independence I felt while playing it)

Destiny 2 (my PC has issues running it but I absolutely love it, also I have like 40 gifs of myself just dancing in this game..)

d) top 10 books

Krysař/The Ratcatcher by Viktor Dyk (1915) (fell in love with this Czech required reading book during middle school, read it again for high school finals, still love it to this day)

Demian by Hermann Hesse (1919)

Sandman Slim by Richard Kadrey - the series has I think 12 books running 2009-2021 but I only have the first 3 (2009-2011) however they deserve to be on this list since I've read them like 13 times)

Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard by Rick Riordan (2015-2017) (I also enjoy his series with egyptian gods but Magnus Chase slayed)

The Inheritance Cycle: Eragon, Eldest, Brisingr, Inheritance by Christopher Paolini (2003-2011)

The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis (1950-1956)

Lady Pokingham Or They All Do It by allegedly Oscar Wilde (1879) (it's an erotica, a guilty pleasure of mine)

Smrt Krásných Srnců/Death of Beautiful Roebucks by Ota Pavel (1971) (another Czech gem really)

Note to Self by Connor Franta (2017)

Witch Hat Atelier by Kamome Shirahama (2016-present) (I know you said no manga, but it's so beautiful! I even used it as a reference literature to my bachelor thesis - I HAVE to include it!)

e) top 10 music artists

(this list was an absolute struggle, I don't listen to music that much, and since my girlfriend has just such a great taste in music I mostly don't focus on anything and just go along with their recs)

Stray Kids (a remnant of high school days when I listened to alot of kpop - I still listen to some others but Stray Kids are precious to me)

Silverchair (my favorite rock band)

bbno$

Citizen Soldier (some of their music quite literally kept me alive through some rough nights)

Lemon Demon [two trucks holding hands~, two trucks holding hands~, the passion, the passion, is more than I can withstand~~]

Takayan (たかやん)

CORPSE!

Grim Salvo

grandson

Nathan Wagner

I do listen to a lot of anime opening songs, and movie or game soundtracks and also to literally anything you make into nightcore version lmao.

Anyway, that's all I have <3 Thank you for this ask, Q!

#ask #top 10 list

[anasraza25]

The Divine Significance of Jummah: A Day of Spiritual Renewal

In the tapestry of Islamic tradition, few threads gleam as brightly as Jummah, the blessed day of Friday. It stands not merely as a waypoint in the week but as a cornerstone of spiritual rejuvenation, a beacon guiding the faithful towards deeper connection with the Divine. From the bustling streets of metropolises to the tranquil mosques nestled in serene villages, Muslims worldwide converge on Fridays to partake in the sacred ritual of Jummah prayers, acknowledging its profound importance in the tapestry of their faith.

At the heart of the reverence for Jummah lies its divine sanction. It is a day set apart by Allah Himself, singled out for special blessings and mercy. In the Holy Quran, Allah declares, "O you who have believed, when [the adhan] is called for the prayer on the day of Jummah, then proceed to the remembrance of Allah and leave trade. That is better for you if you only knew" (Surah Al-Jumu'ah, 62:9). This divine injunction underscores the paramount importance of prioritizing the congregational prayer on Fridays, elevating it above worldly pursuits.

Jummah serves as a communal rendezvous for Muslims, transcending the barriers of geography, language, and culture. It unites the ummah in a collective expression of devotion and submission to the Almighty. As believers converge in mosques for the congregational prayers, they form a tapestry of diverse souls bound together by a common creed, reinforcing the bonds of brotherhood and sisterhood that define the Islamic community.

Beyond its communal significance, Jummah holds profound spiritual implications for individual believers. It offers a golden opportunity for introspection and self-renewal, a sanctuary where weary souls find solace in the remembrance of Allah. The sermon (khutbah) delivered before the congregational prayer serves as a beacon of guidance, illuminating the path towards righteousness and spiritual growth. Through reflections on Quranic verses and Prophetic teachings, believers are reminded of their duties towards Allah, themselves, and their fellow beings.

Moreover, Jummah serves as a potent reminder of the transient nature of worldly pursuits. As Muslims momentarily set aside their earthly concerns to focus on the divine, they are reminded of the ephemeral nature of material wealth and status. In the serenity of the mosque, amidst the whispers of prayers and the fragrance of incense, hearts are inclined towards the eternal and the everlasting, seeking refuge in the benevolence of the Creator.

Importantly, Jummah instills a sense of discipline and structure in the lives of believers. The weekly rhythm of congregational prayers punctuates the passage of time, serving as a reminder of the fleeting nature of life. It fosters a sense of accountability, urging individuals to reflect on their actions and intentions, and to strive for self-improvement in the pursuit of divine pleasure.

Furthermore, Jummah serves as a catalyst for social cohesion and solidarity within the Muslim community. It provides a platform for believers to come together, to exchange greetings, share news, and offer support to one another. In an increasingly fragmented world, Jummah serves as a sanctuary of unity and compassion, where the divisions of race, ethnicity, and social status dissolve in the light of Islamic brotherhood.

In essence, the importance of Jummah transcends mere ritualistic observance; it embodies the essence of Islamic spirituality, encapsulating the divine mercy, communal solidarity, and individual piety that lie at the heart of the faith. It serves as a beacon guiding believers towards the path of righteousness, offering respite from the trials and tribulations of the world and ushering them towards the eternal bliss promised by the Almighty.

As the faithful gather in mosques every Friday, their hearts resonate with the echoes of prayers uttered by countless generations before them, reaffirming their allegiance to the timeless creed of Islam. In the sanctity of Jummah, believers find renewal, strength, and solace, fortifying their spirits for the journey ahead. Truly, Jummah stands as a testament to the enduring beauty and wisdom of Islam, inviting all who seek guidance to partake in its blessings.

[stolememory]

❝ The silence suits you…Gives you an air of mystery. ❞ ( Astrid // bladedwoe -- don't mind me just using Astrid's canon lines lmao from the db meme )

❛[ DARK BROTHERHOOD SENTENCE STARTERS ≻ accepting

`THE EYES PRY WITHOUT A WELCOMING INVITE. However, it was upon stone effigy bearing insignias to the Daedric Prince that the blood of a devoted seeped and spilled // SHOULD NOT THE GREAT EYE LAP UP THE SIGHT? He was not subtle in presence-- - the stone eye at altars middle churned and split, from ichor spilled did tendrils burst and SLITHER (CURLED AND COLLECTIVE AROUND THE LAMENTED-- - IT WAS NOT MOURNING, IT WAS COLLECTION. IT WAS CLAIMING NECESSARY PIECES).

`SILENCE HUNG LIKE AN UNSTEADY ROCK AT CLIFFS EDGE. Hermaeus Mora's presence brought with them the low atmospherical pressure that rung at ears internals // EVEN SUCH A FRACTIONAL ASPECT OF THE WHOLE (BUT HE CHOSE NOT TO ADDRESS THE KILLER // NOT YET // THE PIECE HAD TO BE SET). And it finally presented itself to the board-- - her voice, the first to break. The glowing plate rived with the Lords pupil shifted. Addressing, aware // ALWAYS AWARE // as voice popped and carried despite the Princes minor conduit. “&– - The mystery of me is no less decreased by choice to speak, or just observe. The Prince of Knowledge is nothing if not a mystery in purest essence.”

`THE SUBSTITUTE FOR INTRODUCTIONS NOW HERE AND PASSED. Tentacles of vermillion pushed between the gaps of bones of dead follower // BETWEEN THE EYES, INTO THE THROAT. Siphoning the fading flickers of memories and the fates incomplete. The Abyssal Cephaliarch cared not for the majority of the fleeting, FRAGILE LIVES of even those that aligned themselves to him-- - but opportunity need not be wasted.   “&– - And your contract has stripped free from me a mortal whose use was not entirely used up. Repayment and recompense are traditional in such a situation, is it not? You are not unfamiliar with such trades. I am very aware-- - as is my nature.” // @bladedwoe / @the-1890s-runaway

#bladedwoe #🕮┆“ANSWERS”╞ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵐʸ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ ᶦᵗ ʷᶦˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵏⁿᵒʷⁿ #🕮┆“IN CHARACTER”╞ ᵖʳᶦⁿᶜᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵏⁿᵒʷˡᵉᵈᵍᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵃᵗᵉ ᵃˢ ᶦᵗ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ʰᵃˢ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ #( honestly i thought the idea of her killing one of his followers for a contract would be neat #like he doesnt care at all but hes like im for sure gonna try to benefit from this ) #gore // #blood //

[victorie552onepiecespeedrun]

Reading One Piece pt 304: Whitebeard Arrives

Chapter 551

Thoughts:

- Fpos/cs: “Fat Usopp” that’s… that’s exactly what we get, yes

- Ace’s parentage is now known to the whole world and everyone is LOSING THEIR SHIT

- “It still exists! The bloodline of the Pirate King!” …ok? Who cares about BLOODLINE, that’s ONE GENERATION

(me: ‘ignores title of my last recap’)

No, I really think you need more than father and son to create that feeling of glamour we give important families. Either ridiculously long family tree or a LOT of kids will suffice for a “bloodline’ to make sense but this here doesn’t really count in my book

- but yeah, Ace being Roger’s son is a BIG THING. Do they expect Ace to be a Pirate King too? I mean, it was just a title. AND we still don’t know what Roger actually DID that made him so cool. He didn’t even told anyone what’s on the end of Grand Line goddammit. Was he disrupting WG’s work like Luffy does?

- at Marineford, everyone is like “holy shit” but in a very quiet way

- “He isn’t Luffy’s… brother by blood?” no, Hancock, he isn’t. Smoker and Mihawk are singled out and I don’t know why

- “His son was alive all this time! It’s incredible! Everybody associated with Roger was executed!” shut up, Moria. This continues to be horrible. Why? Because Roger’s crewmembers we know are all fine: Rayleigh, Crocus, Shanks, even Buggy. What Moria means is that everyone too weak to fight WG was executed. Their association with Roger was probably brief at best. This is disgusting

- “I thought his father must be Dragon too, since he’s Luffy’s brother!” “So did I! What’s going on here? They aren’t really brothers?” Coby and Helmeppo are confused. I love the gossiping :D I should be more curious about Ace and Luffy’s brotherhood but I’m fully expecting a big flashback that will Explain Everything at some point

- GARP FLASHBACK EVERYONE QUIET

- …

- so Roger and Garp were friends? Or enemies who respected each other. And Garp really didn’t want an innocent child to suffer. I can deal with that

- …I can’t deal with that

- Garp DID help her!!! (Ace’s mother Rouge)

- “If you’re a girl, I’ll name you Anne. If you’re a boy…” poor woman

- “You’re going to raise them, Dadan.” I heard that name before! Looks like Garp took Ace to his friend to raise him after Rouge’s death

- mini Luffy!!!

- end of flashback

- …ok, Garp probably didn’t raise Ace in the same way he didn’t raise Luffy but at least he kept him safe for 17 years. Then Ace went to the sea and, well, Ace’s an adult now. It’s his business to become a pirate or to be captured and/or killed. Garp still could have done something but still. Innocent child was protected. Not-so-innocent adult should live in a better world but that’s what you get when you have a totalitarian government looming over everything

- the point is, Garp gets a “There was an Attempt” Gold Star for his troubles and I’ll continue to like him very much. He got depths to him I don’t associate with Monkey name (maybe I should)

- Sengoku is still speaking

- “We weren’t the only ones who learned the truth. Whitebeard took you, a son of his former rival, aboard his ship… so that he could raise you to be the next Pirate King!” I LOVE THE DRAMA HERE

- “No! I joined Pops to help him become the King Of Pirates!” “You’re the only one who believes that.” Oh shit

- “Don’t you know why we were never able to touch you? Because Whitebeard was protecting you!” OH SHIT ACE’S FACE

- while I believe everything Sengoku says is true, I wonder where and how did he learnt all of that. Cipher Pol is that good?

- “But you had to be stopped. In time your abilities would eventually allow you to lead a new generation of pirates on a reign of terror! For this reason, your execution today is necessary!” what abilities, his fire power is great but not exactly stronger than other powers we saw. Or did Roger had a superpower he passed on to his son? Maybe the hearing voices thing? …Why am I thinking of Ohara?

- “Even if it means an all-out war with Whitebeard!!!” …I both understand and I don’t. This is the most honest reasoning on starting a war I ever saw. But honestly, WG wants to hide things that much they start a (World) War?

- what?

- The Gates of Justice are opening! On their own! (???)

- It’s Luffy!!!

- AGHDJHDHGS BUGGY

- no but seriously, who opened it

- !!!!!!

- It’s a pirate fleet! It must be Whitebeard!!!

- “… …You guys are here too?” I’m sorry, too? Does Ace knows something? Or did he not expect Whitebeard to come? He knows about Luffy? What

- Warlords are excited. This will a FIGHT

- Admirals collectively woke up from their naps

- …underwater?

- YES, UNDERWATER!!! Whitebeard’s ships are in the harbor!

- Ga ha ha ha… How long has it been, Sengoku?”

- THERE HE IS! WHITEBEARD!

“I’m coming, Ace!” “POPS!”

rOP 303  rOP 305

#one piece #one piece speed read #one piece reaction #chapter 551 #one piece chapter 551 #551 #spoiler #spoilers #have a nice day #rOP 304

[music-daily]

Kendrick Lamar breaks silence on new album

I spend most of my days with fleeting thoughts. Writing. Listening. And collecting old Beach cruisers. The morning rides keep me on a hill of silence.

I go months without a phone.

Love, loss, and grief have disturbed my comfort zone, but the glimmers of God speak through my music and family.

While the world around me evolves, I reflect on what matters the most. The life in which my words will land next.

As I produce my final TDE album, I feel joy to have been a part of such a cultural imprint after 17 years. The Struggles. The Success. And most importantly, the Brotherhood. May the Most High continue to use Top Dawg as a vessel for candid creators. As I continue to pursue my life’s calling.

There’s beauty in completion. And always faith in the unknown.

Thank you for keeping me in your thoughts. I’ve prayed for you all.

See you soon enough.

-oklama

#kendrick lamar #news

[hiphopandanimerebuild]

I spend most of my days with fleeting thoughts. Writing. Listening. And collecting old Beach cruisers. The morning rides keep me on a hill of silence.

I go months without a phone.

Love, loss, and grief have disturbed my comfort zone, but the glimmers of God speak through my music and family.

While the world around me evolves, I reflect on what matters the most. The life in which my words will land next.

As I produce my final TDE album, I feel joy to have been a part of such a cultural imprint after 17 years. The Struggles. The Success. And most importantly, the Brotherhood. May the Most High continue to use Top Dawg as a vessel for candid creators. As I continue to pursue my life’s calling.

There’s beauty in completion. And always faith in the unknown.

Thank you for keeping me in your thoughts. I’ve prayed for you all.

See you soon enough.

-oklama

#kendrick lamar #kdot #tde #2021

[joezworld]

You've talked about locos and politics. What about economics? I'm curious as to what 'fair pay' for a locomotive is (since it seems like equivalent needs and wants for, say, standard-gauge engines are going to be a lot bigger and $$er than humans'), and how I, as a filthy capitalist, can corner the market on engines' consumer spending.

It's more than what a human might be paid, but not by a great deal. Most locomotives basically work long-term contract jobs where the railroad company takes care of fuel, maintenance, and all the other expected stuff like healthcare. This means that most engines don't really have expenses (considering that they don’tneed food, housing, or anything else while on the rails), and are typically sitting on a large chunk of cash at any given time. (Well, they were before the advent of portable computer and wireless internet. Now they have to be mildly fiscally responsible.) Railroads therefore offer competitive wages, but rank-and-file wages tend to top out in the low $200,000s.

As for engines not on railroad jobs, well, locomotives typically aren't considered "unskilled labor", so they typically earn more than the US national average, meaning that most locomotives can keep themselves in fuel relatively easily.

For anyone who can't, the creation of the food stamp program in the 1930s also allowed the creation of the Locomotive Welfare Program under the Department of Commerce, which allowed for subsidized fuel and water to be offered to locomotives who couldn't afford basic fuels.

Similar efforts to fold locomotives under the Medicare program during the 1960s were unsuccessful, with critics of the program stating that almost half of the US locomotive fleet were already over 65, and was unlikely to die within normal human lifespans, meaning that by 2040, almost half of all Medicare payouts would be going exclusively to locomotives.

Fortunately, the problem was solved both through collective action and capitalism, with State Farm offering the first private locomotive Healthcare insurance plan in 1971, and the International Brotherhood of Railway Locomotives offering a collective insurance plan to all their members beginning in 1968. Similar plans have been enacted through other unions and insurance companies.

*it should be noted that this applies only to the United States. Most nations that offer some kind of single-payer Healthcare system/socialized medicine typically include locomotives as they would any citizen. (Obviously the United Kingdom is a noted exception)

-

As for consumer products, there's a lot of things that are specifically tailored to locomotives, mostly mechanical pieces and parts.

If you've ever seen a highly modified semi truck rolling down the highway, know that locomotives can and will do the same

The lights are common, but flashy paint schemes are often frowned upon by larger railroads. Short lines are fun, because often they don't care at all.

Engine modifications are another common thing - tuning companies can and will do amazing things to diesel engines, including the fearsome IE-EMD 710x10, in which lunatic societytuning shop International Engines takes a 16 cylinder EMD 710 engine, does basically mechanical black magic to it, and sells it on with a whopping 5,940 horsepower, twin superchargers, and enough torque to move a mountain. Several of these engines have set land speed records, and their unexpected power/reliability ratio makes them very popular even among otherwise non-modified engines.

Steam engines aren't left out of this either, and Babcock and Wilcox, aside from being one if the last boilermakers in the United States, has also become one of the most respected names in steam engine tuning, with its UltraHeating system becoming legendary in tuning circles after its inclusion in Furious 6

Electric locomotives generally don't go for the "prebuilt" tuning stuff, and most of the truly insane mods come from engines tinkering in their garages/sheds.

-

Another common product is biomechanical technology.

As digital camera tech began to get smaller and higher quality in the 1990s and 2000s, Johnson and Johnson began experimenting with cybernetic implants, with the idea being that they could easily augment eyes and other sensory organs.

The human trials didn't end well, as the brain-camera interface required several thousand dollars worth of computers and a dedicated power supply to return an image that was described as "worse than analog tv" (not that the previously blind test subjects minded), but trials in mechanical beings like locomotives and aircraft worked incredibly well. The Cybereye, as it's now known, really took off in the early 2010s as camera technology finally reached a point where 24K+ sensors were a possibility. More expensive options include night vision, thermal imaging, and even telephoto zoom.

-

There are of course, many other options, like the ever popular 'sex, drugs, and rock n' roll', but those aren't quite as interesting as cybernetic eyes.

#ask response #headcanon #extremely specific headcanon #train headcanon #sentient vehicle headcanon #ttte adjacent

[hraishin]

Cherik Fic Recs!

Hey, so, as anyone here I have some favorite fics that I want to share with everyone because I just really love them and I think they deserve to be recommended right here! I will be listing only the "recently" posted ones here because I have a lot of favorites and the list would be VERY long if I decided to put the older ones in this post too lmao So, here we go, in no particular order!

Reversings, or as a martyr at the stake renouncing self by midrashic (Rated T)

The last thing Jean expects when she opens the door after Erik has been taken is to find the leader of the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants--Xavier himself--in the doorway.

Tags:  Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Dark Charles Xavier, Beach Divorce (X-Men)

Intervention by feathershollyandgolly (Not Rated)

Charles doesn’t know what to make of it. Angels are not supposed to love like this. Not supposed to desire anything so flawed and fleeting.

But Erik has a beautiful soul. He shakes the thought off.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Angels, Fallen Angels, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Historical Inaccuracy, 13th Century CE, Vignette

and your smile, oh darling, your smile by lavenderlotion (Rated G)

Charles turned back around to find Mrs. Lehnsherr still standing in the doorway, watching them with a smile and some very warm thoughts that made Charles feel very soft in his chest, right by his heart.

"You have a lovely home, Mrs. Lehnsherr. It's very, very nice," Charles told her seriously, meaning every word and hoping that Mrs. Lehnsherr would believe him and not think him just terrible for the way that he had first thought the house too small.

Tags: Alternate Universe, Kid Fic, Kid Charles Xavier, Kid Erik Lehnsherr, Telepathy, Mutation, Friendship, Crushes, Knitting, Cheek Kisses, Tooth-Rotting Fluff

(Sidenote: I fucking love this fic just because it's pure fluff and gives me the serotonin I'm missing. I didn't know I needed this fic until I read it.)

Puppet by Somiko_Raven (Rated T)

All Charles wanted was to be loved, but he always goes too far. The one time he tries to reverse what he's done, karma comes for him.

Cherik Week 2020 Prompt: Dark Charles

Tags: Dark Charles Xavier, Mind Control, X-Men: First Class (2011)

Circling by feathershollyandgolly (Not Rated)

He may refuse to swear by other gods, but he's heard whispers of rules. Don't give your name to the forest, the fae, the sprites, the spirits. For once they have your name, they have you. It is a terrifying thought.

"You may call me Max," says Erik.

The spirit puts his hands—physical hands very much like a pair of human hands—on Erik's.

"You cheated," says the spirit, without malice. "Smart move, considering."

"Considering what?"

Erik knows the answer.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Not Canon Compliant, Mystery, Thriller, Forests, Wilderness, Spirits, Dreams and Nightmares, Vignettes, Charles Xavier is a Sweetheart, Erik Lehnsherr Has Feelings, Erik-centric, Eventual Happy Ending

Tryst With a Stranger by Lindstrom (Rated M)

Charles will do his duty and marry a man he’s never met to save the family estate, but he has one night of freedom left. His body is his own, and he’s not saving himself for his dull and ruthless fiancé. His mother is throwing a ball and Charles develops a plan: he’ll find a stranger at the ball and seduce him . . .

Tags: Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Regency Romance, First Time, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Smitten Erik, Fluff

An Omega's Worth by g33kyclassic (Rated E)

Charles Xavier, only son of the late Lord Brian Xavier, had grown used to living his life in quiet solitude in the country, exiled from public life. Suddenly he is recalled to London by his step-father for reasons unknown. Erik Lehnsherr is a ruthless businessman and owner of the most popular gaming hell in London. He is owed a significant amount of money by Cain Marko and he intends to collect - the sooner the better. Charles and Erik are brought together by unlikely circumstances, can they learn to trust each other? Can affection grow from a business arrangement?

Tags: Protective Erik Lehnsherr, Erik is crushing harder than a 12 year old girl, Charles is a Sweetheart, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Regency, Rape/Non-con Elements, Cause Shaw is a bastard

Peace and Unity by TurtleTotem (Rated T)

“Charles, are you all right?” Raven said cautiously. “You’re acting… a little strange.”

“Oh, I act like this all the time," Charles said absently. “You just don’t remember it later.”

Tags: Dark Charles Xavier, Crack, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beach Divorce Fix-It (X-Men)

#cherik #fic recs #funny how theres 3 of them that are dark charles huh #i just love dark charles leave me alone????? #anyway yall should definitely check these out they're really great and each one has something special about them #mine

[autisticdindjarin]

Knights of Mandalore

Chapter One: The Past

Chapter Two | Masterlist

(AO3)

Rating: T Ships: Din Djarin/Female Jedi Knight (Slow Burn) Warnings: None

Summary: The Hero of Tython was never found after her capture at the hands of the Eternal Empire. Millennia passed before she was found by a youngling in need of training and a Mandalorian.

A silence settled across the rocky planes of the inner mind of Tacee de’Val. Time passed as if she were submerged beneath the surface of it. Grasping. Drowning. Ripples moved out in waves of awareness, with the helplessness of not being able to act.

At first, it had been watching the Republic and the Empire fall under the control of the Zakuulan prince. As Prince Arcann had disarmed her and had frozen her in carbonite after his coup, his plans had already been taking root.

Secondly, there had been a war, a bloody war, after an alliance had been formed under the rule of the Empire’s Wrath- a war hero covered in blood but no regrets. 

Tacee had company every so often as Arcann and his sister Vaylin would come, glancing at her carbonite shell with a gleam in their eyes. She could sense the fear in both of them as they wondered whether their father was truly gone for good, forever encased in the carbonite prison Tacee shared with him.

He wasn’t.

The downfall of the Zakuulan monarchy and the Eternal Empire came with the death of too many, and yet freedom for the galaxy. Arcann and Vaylin had died. As for the alliance, it was a high price. That price fed on Tacee’s guilt. If she’d been there, would she have made a difference? If they had found her, could she have saved them?

Instead, she was a trapped bystander.

She remained locked in Arcann’s trophy room, forgotten after Zakuul’s downfall, gathering dust and memories and pain and becoming more and more aware of a sinister presence that lingered within her. The citizens of Zakuul moved on from the Spire- Zakuul City- after the damage caused in the war by their own fleet, and settled elsewhere on the planet. And she was alone. Except for the ghost inside her head.

While her tomb was outwardly quiet, she could not silence the voice in her mind. It was the only company she had other than the other carbonite slabs surrounding her, breaking down over the years.

The voice became stronger as time passed in its stream, first whispers, then mutters, speaking ... screams. 

She wanted to claw at her skull. She wanted him out. She wanted to be free. But Vitiate … Valkorian … was persistent in her torture.

She watched her friends die, Some horribly, some from old age, but it hurt all the same. Years, decades, centuries, millenia floating in this warped nightmare. And everytime something terrible happened, Valkorian made sure she saw it.

There was so much blood, so much destruction, so much hopelessness.

A near thousand years of infighting between Sith factions. Civil war on too many planets. The Republic committing its own atrocities, nearly exterminating an entire species. The war between a brotherhood and an army and a thought bomb that killed both sides in a devastating blow. Two rules.

But there stood good as well.

When Valkorian’s presence thinned and she reached out to see the galaxy for herself, there was not much she could see, but what she did see gave her some small hope.

Children, families of killed Jedi establishing their own Force traditions, from Ossus to Jedha. A medical revolution that would have had Doc on a month long tangent. The presence of the Jedi growing strong in the Republic once again, reforming from what the Eternal Empire had broken. She could imagine Kira’s smile, and Scourge’s slight disdain.

The flow of time was changing, as if she were being further submerged in its depths, drifting helplessly toward the bottom. It still came in starts and fits, but it was unpredictable. It became harder to reach out, and less and less visions came, even from Valkorian. But she saw.

A young woman sold into slavery. The birth of a chosen one. The creation of a clone army full of troopers that even Rusk would approve of, and the separating of the Republic. A revolt against a pacifist leader, with death watching, and a shadow collecting. A padawan lost.

Then, pain. A louder call through the Force than Tacee had experienced in a millenia during her time in her carbonite tomb.

The deaths of nearly all of her fellow Jedi, calling out in the Force and driving her to near madness with the loss of each as silence fell over the galaxy. The night of a thousand tears. A Republic transitioned into an Empire under the rule of a Sith Lord. The death of a star.

But, with each darkness came a light that it was cast from, though the flame may have been small.

The birth of new hope. The organization of an alliance of rebels. Two droids, one reminiscent of Teeseven, who always seemed to be in the center of it all, pushing on fate in small yet critical ways.

While the screams in the Force became louder, it was harder to find optimism. A familiar planet was obliterated not long after as voices cried out in the Force, terror-filled. Tacee had not witnessed such a loss of life since Ziost, and even in her dreams, she shuddered, and withdrew.

When she came back, not as much time had passed as she’d expected, but a lot had occurred between the broken pieces. A change in the darkness. A fulfilled prophecy. And a New Republic birthed from the ashes.

She wished she could reach out. Valkorian often blocked her efforts. She was trapped, and so was he, but Valkorian was crafty, a patient man, and she sensed he waited for the opportune moment, so he could once again continue in his efforts of engulfing her entire universe. She hated him, a hate and disdain that coiled deep in her chest. But he kept them alive. The carbonite helped, certainly, yet a Force shield surrounded her as well, keeping her in stasis, a passive observer, unable to interact or help. It was a nightmare.

Sometimes it would seem like day after day passed. Then she would spurt forwards, her awareness moved to the next century with such a suddenness it gave her whiplash. There were … a lot of holes. Not just in her observation of the galaxy, but in her own mind. Things were becoming fuzzy. She was losing her grip on who she was, and something dark stirred in her chest, trying to take her place.

But there were times when the darkness would retreat, and she could just simply be. Those times were rare. She treasured them.

But when she startled back to awareness this time, it felt more like chaos than peace.

#din djarin #swtor #din djarin x oc #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x oc #mywriting #mine #tacee #myfic

[mediaeval-muse]

Video Game Review: Assassin’s Creed Rogue (Ubisoft, 2014)

Genres: action-adventure, third person, open world

Premise: During the mid-18th century, Assassin Shay Patrick Cormac uncovers a First Civilization temple in Lisbon and unwittingly triggers an earthquake that kills thousands. Desperate to keep the Assassins from finding more of these temples and harming more innocents, he joins the North American Templars, whose hold over the British colonies is starting to grow. In the present, research into Shay’s memories triggers a server failure at Abstergo Entertainment, and the unnamed employee from Black Flag must help restore the system.

Platform Played On: PC (Windows)

Rating: 4/5 stars

***Full review under the cut.***

I am evaluating this game based on four key aspects: story, characters, gameplay, and visuals. Because I played this game on a PC, I will not be reviewing the Remastered version, which is only available for consoles.

Content Warnings: violence, blood

Story: Assassin’s Creed Rogue primarily follows Shay Patrick Cormac, an Irish Assassin-turned-Templar who operates during the French and Indian/Seven Years War in North America. Starting as a member of the Brotherhood, Shay is sent to Portugal by Achilles Davenport (the mentor of the North American chapter of Assassins) in order o recover a First Civilization artifact. Unbeknownst to Shay, removing the artifact from the temple triggers an earthquake, killing thousands of innocent people. Furious that Achilles (and perhaps other Assassins) knew this would be a possibility yet refusing to tell Shay, Shay leaves the Assassins and joins the Templars in order to prevent the Brotherhood from accessing more temples and artifacts and from harming more innocent people.

I really liked the overarching story because it gave us clear goals and a clear structure. Shay has one purpose: prevent the Assassins from gaining access to the next First Civilization site. To do that, Shay has to track down and neutralize all of his former Brotherhood colleagues, which adds a level of personal involvement and angst. Structurally, I think this plot made a lot of sense and was well-done, and though it wasn’t as involved as a headliner game (like Black Flag), it did present the player with a straightforward narrative.

The Seven Years War/French and Indian War was an interesting backdrop, though it didn’t have the same entanglement with history as headliners. Shay isn’t really involved with any landmark historical events, but he is responsible for the Templars gaining a foothold in North America, which serves as the setting for Assassin’s Creed III. In that sense, I think this story is more meaningful for people who have played both Assassin’s Creed III and Black Flag. I also think this plot works better for those who intend to continue to Unity, since the end of Shay’s story serves as the beginning for Arno’s.

The main thing I didn’t like was the game’s treatment of Native Americans. While I don’t think it was outright offensive, there was a point in the narrative where Shay had to rescue an Oneida tribe from Assassin thugs, and Shay does have to confront and kill one of his former friends, who is Native. In that sense, Rogue may be triggering for some people, but I personally didn’t find it egregious like the brutal scenes in Assassin’s Creed III. Rogue does contain some missions where Shay has to seek out Native “totems” to unlock some special Native armor, so that could be appropriative, but I’ll defer to Native gamers on that issue.

I also just wish the game was longer, mainly because it’s the only one where we get a full Templar perspective, and it had interesting missions. If it had been a headliner and gotten the amount of time and resources other headliners receive, I think this game could have done really well.

The present-day Abstergo arc continues to be less compelling than the Desmond Miles frame from previous games. I didn’t find the system failure to be very exciting, nor did I think the unfolding narrative about Otso Berg was communicated in a particularly engaging way. I do think the idea of the Assassins confronting the flaws in their belief system is an interesting one, but we barely see any Assassins in the modern day arc, so it’s difficult to feel like there are stakes.

Characters: Shay is a compelling protagonist in that he has complicated motivations and grey morality. He’s obviously very concerned for ordinary people, even as a Templar, and is very conflicted over the prospect of confronting his former friends. I liked that he seemed to have legitimate concerns about the Assassins and the way their hierarchy is constructed, which made his turn to the Templars more understandable. I liked the opportunity to see why someone might join the Templars, especially if that someone wasn’t completely on board with the authoritarian viewpoint the Order holds.

Shay’s Assassin companions are interesting in that they each seem to have their own combat abilities, which made for unique confrontations. Hope, for example, is an Assassin who is skilled with poisons, and Liam is pretty precise with a firearm. Encountering them, therefore, felt like several different boss fights that avoided repetition. I also think Shay spent enough time with each person at the beginning so that confronting them felt like an emotional challenge. I think the emotional stakes could have been enhanced if the game was longer and contained more time for character interactions, but with what it had, I think Rogue used its time effectively.

Shay’s Templar companions are also well-used in that the game makes clear that Shay feels an emotional bond with them. Shay first grows attached to Colonel George Monro, and it’s clear from the outset that Monro’s fondness for Shay is what motivates the latter to devote himself to the Templars, not necessarily the Order’s ideology. I liked this personal dimension to Shay’s Templar companions because it parallels how people in the modern day become drawn to harmful ideologies or groups: they mainly stay out of fear of being socially rejected. It was a pretty nice touch, and I think it worked better than just having players experience a “gritty” game centered on being unambiguously evil and just wreaking havoc and misery everywhere.

I also liked that we got some familiar faces, such as Achilles Davenport and Haytham Kenway. The conflict between Shay and Achilles serves as background for why Achilles is so broken in Assassin’s Creed III, and I think Rogue does a good job in showing how Achilles’ motivations are just as complex and grey as Shay’s are. Haytham continues to be ruthless, and I liked the budding mentor-mentee relationship between him and Shay. It served as a nice counter balance to the lack of affection between Shay and Achilles, while also giving us more of Haytham’s witty banter.

I will say that I am conflicted on whether or not this game did Adéwalé justice.  Adéwalé was an NPC in Black Flag and a playable character in Freedom Cry, so players who have completed both will have some investment in the character. Since Adéwalé is one of the companions Shay must track down and confront, it may seem like an unfair end to Adéwalé’s story, but again, I’m conflicted - mainly because Shay is supposed to be something of a villain.

Gameplay: The core of Rogue’s gameplay is not that much different from Black Flag’s: players explore the open world using Shay’s ship, the Morrigan, uncovering chests as well as collectibles, such as Templar maps (which are functionally the same as Black Flag’s treasure maps), animus fragments, pieces of a Viking sword, totems, shanties, and others. The Morrigan is upgradable, just like the Jackdaw, and Shay can use it to attack French ships to acquire resources such as wood, stone, metal, and cloth. Doing so will raise Shay’s notoriety, just as in Black Flag, but instead of lowering Shay’s wanted status by defeating enemies, Shay can only reset his wanted level by leaving an area until things quiet down. This made for a scaled-back version of ship combat and exploration, but it wasn’t a huge drawback to my gaming experience.

I did like that even though Rogue borrowed heavily from Black Flag, it did put its own spin on several gameplay elements to make them feel more integrated with the setting. For example, the weather at sea revolved more around cold weather than tropical weather, so instead of thunderstorms and cyclones, Shay was subject to icebergs and freezing water. Shay could also go hunting and craft like Edward, but the wildlife included new animals such as polar bears, arctic foxes, narwhals, and other North American or Arctic creatures. On land, Shay can intercept assassin contracts instead of accepting them, so instead of killing a target, Shay will have to protect a target by getting to the Assassin(s) before they can complete their mission.

Players are also able to unlock zones on the map by capturing forts, just like in Black Flag, but there are far fewer of these than in the game’s predecessor. Rogue relies a bit more heavily instead on “Assassin gang hideouts,” which function something like the Borgia towers in Assassin’s Creed Brotherhood or the forts in Assassin’s Creed III. For each hideout, Shay must complete a number of objectives (like kill the gang leader, cut down the flag, sabotage a poison barrel), which will then unlock the area’s harbormasters and general stores. Doing so will also unlock renovations, which Shay can complete to increase his revenue, similar to how renovations gave Ezio an income in previous games.

Shay can also gain income by managing a fleet, similar to Edward’s fleet in Black Flag. Players capture ships via boarding them during gameplay, and then send them out on missions to “progress the Seven Years’ War.” Aside from the resources, which change a bit, this aspect of the game was functionally the same as Black Flag, so it was fairly familiar and didn’t take long to pick up.

In terms of weapons, Shay has access to the staples: hidden blade, pistols, smoke bombs, rope dart, etc. Shay can dual wield with a sword and dagger (rather than Edward’s two swords), but the change is mostly aesthetic. Shay also has access to sleep darts, berserk darts, and firecracker darts via an air rifle rather than a blowgun, but again, the change is mostly aesthetic. The biggest change to equipment is probably the grenade launcher, which can fire sleep, berserk, and shrapnel grenades to affect multiple enemies, and the presence of gas as an environmental weapon (the effects of which Shay can mitigate on himself by using a gas mask).

In terms of combat and stealth, not much is different. Shay can use eagle vision, hide in bushes or tall grass, whistle to draw enemies closer to him, etc. The only thing that’s tricky is that Assassin gang members will hide randomly in the environment, ready to take Shay out as he passes through. Shay can avoid attacks by listening for “whispers” and using eagle vision to spot Assassin thugs before they jump him.

I think that in sum, the lack of innovation regarding mechanics isn’t as bothersome as some people make it out to be. Because the “flavor” of the mechanics changed, I do think Rogue did a good job adapting what it could in the short amount of time it had. Enough is the same where picking up mechanics is easy if the player has completed Black Flag, but narratively, enough is different to make the experience at least feel tailored to the setting.

Visuals: Rogue’s primary strengths in terms of visuals lies in the unique settings and Shay’s Templar aesthetic. Although Rogue doesn’t have the beautiful tropical waters of Black Flag, I do think it rendered the snow-covered mountains well and made the world feel like a cold environment. It took the best elements of Assassin’s Creed III (the trees, the city layouts) and combined them with the spirit of exploration from Black Flag. I particularly liked exploring the shipwrecks, which were not underwater, but fused with ice to create fun sites where I felt like I was playing “the floor is lava” (the lava, in this case, was freezing cold water that could kill you).

I also really loved Shay’s Templar aesthetic, which consisted of a lot of fancy 18th century coats and vests, combined with a strong black and red color scheme. Everything from the Morrigan’s sails and captain’s cabin to Shay’s “house” in New York repeats this color scheme, which was a nice change from what we typically see of the Assassins. I also liked that a lot of Shay’s design contained nods to his Irish heritage, from the Morrigan’s hull to the knotwork details on his coat. It was a nice touch which made everything feel a little more personal.

In terms of animations, I didn’t notice anything that set Rogue apart from other games. Shay didn’t have appealing finishers, nor did I encounter a lot of bugs that affected my impression of the game. There are some here and there, but I’ve come to expect bugs in every Assassin’s Creed game, so...

Final Verdict: Although Assassin’s Creed Rogue replicates much of the gameplay from its predecessors, the complex protagonist, solid narrative structure, and unique settings make it a memorable game that gives players new insight into the Assassin-Templar conflict.

#video game review

[sam271998]

LIVE TO LOVE

The story starts with a movie where the protagonist risks his/her relations for companionship of their partner. Not to mention it didn’t take long for this movie to indoctrinate me about its concept of being rebellious for your partner. I didn’t realize it then, but eventually I was under a hypnosis, constantly searching for a person worthy to risk myself on.

I remember all of us watching this movie together and parting our ways as the search begin...

Some of us linked up with a satisfying partner and happily settled with what we had while some took the wrong bait and discarded the whole concept of love, some have already given up on this search and left it to their parents/destiny, while some are still on this quest. All these events created numerous vibrant themes for an ideal life in our minds or at least provoked us to think about it. There might be other cases as well that went unnoticed from all of us so let’s not get into a debate about whose theme for life is the ideal one because no matter who says what, your life is a reflection of your perception of this world!! As for this article we are going to talk about the ones who’ve lost their faith in love and absconded this walk of their life.

We all have felt this collective sense of proportions of care, hope, trust and brotherhood which we refer to as love and it may be defined by numerous contrasting definitions by each one of us, but what we all do realize without any distinction is its eminence before our fleeting mortal lives. Thinking of its importance in creating civilizations and propelling humanity towards an organized and systematic way of living really do makes us wonder that why do some of us constantly lose our faith in this feeling?

Well the answer is quite simple; we all misinterpret our trade with someone to be our love for them.

Let’s take an excellent example of a mother’s love for her kids. She feeds them, take responsibility for them, provides them with education and takes care of their every need and when it boils down to bottom, we all agree that a mother’s love is emblematic for selflessness. Now What if a self-sustained mother demands a percent of her son/daughter’s salary when they grow up? Some of us may debate that she’s just demanding her right and its nothing to be labeled as a selfish act or a son/daughter should always take care of her parents in every manner they can.

I couldn’t agree more with these motions and completely agree about shouldering our designated responsibilities as the time approaches but the point I’m trying to make here is that is it really love between us and our parents if its defined by a percent of our salary? Is it fine when we Upload smiling selfies with our parents on special occasions and criticize them for not buying us our favorite Smartphone or vehicle? Is the love between me and my Girlfriend/Wife defined by the number of times I call her in a day or number of presents I gift her?  Is this really what you’re planning to strive for your entire life? Proving to everyone how much you love them or care for them by providing them with gifts or treats or money or any other indicators they demand for?

As soon as it’s realized, we certainly discard this concept of indicators and find some new path around it, and you don’t need to bother about its legitimacy, getting that path declared right or wrong by the persons whose opinion matters to you will depend on the sequence of choices you make while travelling that path.

Considering a real time scenario let’s say you meet a person for the first time, possibly numerous voices start shooting up in your head about what to say, what to do and how to get along with them. Being certain about such things is always appreciable but if you aren’t sure about them then it really could make you nervous before them. In that case just imagine them to be your brother/sister/son/daughter/friend and you’ll start loving them naturally, just place them in an appropriate relations slot out of the above ones and all the steps to love them will come to you naturally.

One more thing to keep in mind in the above process is not to repeat the fundamental mistake of misinterpreting ‘Love’ with ‘Trade’. At least for some initial time do not expect that they’ll be on the same page as you, they may not acknowledge you initially but you need to be patient as per the calmness you got in your head!! It’s natural to feel bad at instances where anyone is ill-treated by some friends/relatives or is scolded by a senior in their profession. In such situations you need not to worry too much and recall that we all are humans, we all make mistakes, we all display all sorts of emotions It’s the same like being scolded by father, pampered by mother, beaten up by friends, teased by cousins and siblings.

You do not leave their side even after numerous eruptive quarrels because whatever they say, whatever they do, doesn’t matter much because you know “Deep down they care for me and will be beside me when needed” and this belief alone is enough for you to love anyone!!No matter who they may be!

Preparing a delicious and ideal dish for our life will require a lot of ingredients and patience with correct technique, our recipes will differ in their ingredients, time and technique required to cook them. Just take care not to create something that proves poisonous for you, and even if you do, you’ll always have an option to just throw it away and prepare a new one. Which is a lot better than to keeping it beside you and cursing it for eternity. Nothing can bind you to a particular place/person until you become slave to money/lust/false pride, it’ll always be you who decides what you want to do, and whom do you want to share your space with.

“Love till you get a reason to leave”, having hatred for someone will never do any good to you.

Stay Smiling!!

#self love #loving #love #smile #motivation #stay positive #positive thoughts #positive blog #blog

[aboveallarescuer]

Dany's actions in ACOK and AGOT and the advice she receives

As I was rereading ASOIAF, I made it my goal to compile all* the book passages demonstrating either certain key attributes of Daenerys Targaryen (e.g. that she's compassionate and empathetic) or aspects of hers that are usually overblown (e.g. that she's violent and ambitious).  Doing such a task may seem exaggerated, but I'd argue it's not, for many, many misconceptions about Dany have become widespread in light of the show's final season's events (and even before).

It must be acknowledged that it can be tricky to reference, say, ADWD passages to counter-argument how she was depicted in season eight (which allegedly follows ADOS events). Dany will have had plenty of character development in the span of two books. However, whatever happens to Dany in the next two books, I would argue that there is more than enough material to conclude that her show counterpart was made to fall for flaws that she (for the most part) never had and actions that she (for the most part) would never take.

Another objection to the purpose of these lists is that Game of Thrones is different from A Song of Ice and Fire and should be analyzed on its own, which is a fair point. However, the show is also an adaptation of these books, which begs the questions: why did they change Dany's character? Why did they overfocus on negative traits of hers or depicted them as negative when they weren't supposed to be or gave her negative traits that were never hers to begin with? Another fact that undermines the show=/=books argument is that most people think that the show's ending will be the books', albeit only in broad strokes and in different circumstances. As a result, people's perception of Dany is inevitably influenced by the show, which is a shame.

I hope these lists can be useful for whoever wants to find book passages to defend Dany's character in analysis or even conversations.

*Well, at least all the passages that I could find.

Also, people may interpret certain passages differently and then come up with a different collection of passages, so I'm not arguing that this list is completely objective (nor that there could ever be one).

Also, some passages have been cut short according to whether they were, IMO, relevant to the specific topic of the list they're in, so the context surrounding them may not always be clear (always read the books!). Many of them appear in different lists, sometimes fully cited, sometimes not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm not putting examples here because I feel like this part of her storyline doesn't tend to receive as much backlash as her ASOS and ADWD arcs do, probably because she isn't wielding as much power as she later will. Yes, she's still unjustly blamed for Viserys's death and her burning of Mirri is often pointed out as a sign of madness (when her reasoning for doing so is right there in the text), but I still think it's less worse than thinking she never cared about slavery and only wanted an army, for if you do so, you end up misunderstanding every single thing she does in those books.

Anyway, while she doesn't have the same influence here as she does in later books, her leadership arc already begins in the first book. I collected all passages I could find to showcase it.

Her actions in ACOK and AGOT

ACOK Daenerys V

But where am I to go? Ser Jorah proposed that they journey farther east, away from her enemies in the Seven Kingdoms. Her bloodriders would sooner have returned to their great grass sea, even if it meant braving the red waste again. Dany herself had toyed with the idea of settling in Vaes Tolorro until her dragons grew great and strong. But her heart was full of doubts. Each of these felt wrong, somehow ... and even when she decided where to go, the question of how she would get there remained troublesome.

~

It was good to hear men speaking Valyrian once more, and even the Common Tongue, Dany thought as they approached the first ship. Sailors, dockworkers, and merchants alike gave way before her, not knowing what to make of this slim young girl with silver-gold hair who dressed in the Dothraki fashion and walked with a knight at her side. Despite the heat of the day, Ser Jorah wore his green wool surcoat over chain-mail, the black bear of Mormont sewn on his chest.

But neither her beauty nor his size and strength would serve with the men whose ships they needed.

“You require passage for a hundred Dothraki, all their horses, yourself and this knight, and three dragons?” said the captain of the great cog Ardent Friend before he walked away laughing. When she told a Lyseni on the Trumpeteer that she was Daenerys Stormborn, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, he gave her a deadface look and said, “Aye, and I’m Lord Tywin Lannister and shit gold every night.” The cargomaster of the Myrish galley Silken Spirit opined that dragons were too dangerous at sea, where any stray breath of flame might set the rigging afire. The owner of Lord Faro’s Belly would risk dragons, but not Dothraki. “I’ll have no such godless savages in my Belly, I’ll not.” The two brothers who captained the sister ships Quicksilver and Greyhound seemed sympathetic and invited them into the cabin for a glass of Arbor red. They were so courteous that Dany was hopeful for a time, but in the end the price they asked was far beyond her means, and might have been beyond Xaro’s. Pinchbottom Petto and Sloe-Eyed Maid were too small for her needs, Bravo was bound for the Jade Sea, and Magister Manolo scarce looked seaworthy.

As they made their way toward the next quay, Ser Jorah laid a hand against the small of her back.

~

“Now tell me, what would Magister Illyrio have of me, that he would send you all the way from Pentos?”

“He would have dragons,” said Belwas gruffly, “and the girl who makes them. He would have you.”

“Belwas has the truth of us, Your Grace,” said Arstan. “We were told to find you and bring you back to Pentos. The Seven Kingdoms have need of you. Robert the Usurper is dead, and the realm bleeds. When we set sail from Pentos there were four kings in the land, and no justice to be had.”

Joy bloomed in her heart, but Dany kept it from her face. “I have three dragons,” she said, “and more than a hundred in my khalasar, with all their goods and horses.”

“It is no matter,” boomed Belwas. “We take all. The fat man hires three ships for his little silverhair queen.”

“It is so, Your Grace,” Arstan Whitebeard said. “The great cog Saduleon is berthed at the end of the quay, and the galleys Summer Sun and Joso’s Prank are anchored beyond the breakwater.”

Three heads has the dragon, Dany thought, wondering. “I shall tell my people to make ready to depart at once. But the ships that bring me home must bear different names.”

“As you wish,” said Arstan. “What names would you prefer?”

“Vhagar,” Daenerys told him. “Meraxes. And Balerion. Paint the names on their hulls in golden letters three feet high, Arstan. I want every man who sees them to know the dragons are returned.”

ACOK Daenerys III

Descendants of the ancient kings and queens of Qarth, the Pureborn commanded the Civic Guard and the fleet of ornate galleys that ruled the straits between the seas. Daenerys Targaryen had wanted that fleet, or part of it, and some of their soldiers as well. She made the traditional sacrifice in the Temple of Memory, offered the traditional bribe to the Keeper of the Long List, sent the traditional persimmon to the Opener of the Door, and finally received the traditional blue silk slippers summoning her to the Hall of a Thousand Thrones.

~

“Weep, weep, for the treachery of men.”

Dany would sooner have wept for her gold. The bribes she’d tendered to Mathos Mallarawan, Wendello Qar Deeth, and Egon Emeros the Exquisite might have bought her a ship, or hired a score of sellswords.

~

She would have been lost without Xaro. The gold that she had squandered to open the doors of the Hall of a Thousand Thrones was largely a product of the merchant’s generosity and quick wits. As the rumor of living dragons had spread through the east, ever more seekers had come to learn if the tale was true—and Xaro Xhoan Daxos saw to it that the great and the humble alike offered some token to the Mother of Dragons.

The trickle he started soon swelled to a flood. Trader captains brought lace from Myr, chests of saffron from Yi Ti, amber and dragonglass out of Asshai. Merchants offered bags of coin, silversmiths rings and chains. Pipers piped for her, tumblers tumbled, and jugglers juggled, while dyers draped her in colors she had never known existed. A pair of Jogos Nhai presented her with one of their striped zorses, black and white and fierce. A widow brought the dried corpse of her husband, covered with a crust of silvered leaves; such remnants were believed to have great power, especially if the deceased had been a sorcerer, as this one had. And the Tourmaline Brotherhood pressed on her a crown wrought in the shape of a three- headed dragon; the coils were yellow gold, the wings silver, the heads carved from jade, ivory, and onyx.

The crown was the only offering she’d kept. The rest she sold, to gather the wealth she had wasted on the Pureborn.

~

“...Why should my sailors care who sits upon the throne of some kingdom at the edge of the world?”

“I will pay them to care.”

“With what coin, sweet star of my heaven?”

“With the gold the seekers bring.”

“That you may do,” Xaro acknowledged, “but so much caring will cost dear. You will need to pay them far more than I do, and all of Qarth laughs at my ruinous generosity.”

“If the Thirteen will not aid me, perhaps I should ask the Guild of Spicers or the Tourmaline Brotherhood?”

Xaro gave a languid shrug. “They will give you nothing but flattery and lies. The Spicers are dissemblers and braggarts and the Brotherhood is full of pirates.”

“Then I must heed Pyat Pree, and go to the warlocks.”

The merchant prince sat up sharply. “Pyat Pree has blue lips, and it is truly said that blue lips speak only lies. Heed the wisdom of one who loves you. Warlocks are bitter creatures who eat dust and drink of shadows. They will give you naught. They have naught to give.”

“I would not need to seek sorcerous help if my friend Xaro Xhoan Daxos would give me what I ask.”

~

Ser Jorah Mormont came to her as the sun was going down. “The Pureborn refused you?”

“As you said they would. Come, sit, give me your counsel.” Dany drew him down to the cushions beside her, and Jhiqui brought them a bowl of purple olives and onions drowned in wine.

“You will get no help in this city, Khaleesi.” Ser Jorah took an onion between thumb and forefinger. “Each day I am more convinced of that than the day before. The Pureborn see no farther than the walls of Qarth, and Xaro ...”

“He asked me to marry him again.”

“Yes, and I know why.” When the knight frowned, his heavy black brows joined together above his deep-set eyes.

“He dreams of me, day and night.” She laughed.
“Forgive me, my queen, but it is your dragons he dreams of.”

“Xaro assures me that in Qarth, man and woman each retain their own property after they are wed. The dragons are mine.” She smiled as Drogon came hopping and flapping across the marble floor to crawl up on the cushion beside her.

“He tells it true as far as it goes, but there’s one thing he failed to mention. The Qartheen have a curious wedding custom, my queen. On the day of their union, a wife may ask a token of love from her husband. Whatsoever she desires of his worldly goods, he must grant. And he may ask the same of her. One thing only may be asked, but whatever is named may not be denied.”

“One thing,” she repeated. “And it may not be denied?”

“With one dragon, Xaro Xhoan Daxos would rule this city, but one ship will further our cause but little.”

Dany nibbled at an onion and reflected ruefully on the faithlessness of men. “We passed through the bazaar on our way back from the Hall of a Thousand Thrones,” she told Ser Jorah. “Quaithe was there.” She told him of the firemage and the fiery ladder, and what the woman in the red mask had told her.

“I would be glad to leave this city, if truth be told,” the knight said when she was done. “But not for Asshai.”

“Where, then?”

“East,” he said.

“I am half a world away from my kingdom even here. If I go any farther east I may never find my way home to Westeros.”

“If you go west, you risk your life.”

“House Targaryen has friends in the Free Cities,” she reminded him. “Truer friends than Xaro or the Pureborn.”

“If you mean Illyrio Mopatis, I wonder. For sufficient gold, Illyrio would sell you as quickly as he would a slave.”

“My brother and I were guests in Illyrio’s manse for half a year. If he meant to sell us, he could have done it then.”

“He did sell you,” Ser Jorah said. “To Khal Drogo.”

Dany flushed. He had the truth of it, but she did not like the sharpness with which he put it. “Illyrio protected us from the Usurper’s knives, and he believed in my brother’s cause.”

“Illyrio believes in no cause but Illyrio. Gluttons are greedy men as a rule, and magisters are devious. Illyrio Mopatis is both. What do you truly know of him?”

“I know that he gave me my dragon eggs.”

He snorted. “If he’d known they were like to hatch, he would have sat on them himself.”

That made her smile despite herself. “Oh, I have no doubt of that, ser. I know Illyrio better than you think. I was a child when I left his manse in Pentos to wed my sun-and-stars, but I was neither deaf nor blind. And I am no child now.”

“Even if Illyrio is the friend you think him,” the knight said stubbornly, “he is not powerful enough to enthrone you by himself, no more than he could your brother.”

“He is rich,” she said. “Not so rich as Xaro, perhaps, but rich enough to hire ships for me, and men as well.”

“Sellswords have their uses,” Ser Jorah admitted, “but you will not win your father’s throne with sweepings from the Free Cities. Nothing knits a broken realm together so quick as an invading army on its soil.”

“I am their rightful queen,” Dany protested.

“You are a stranger who means to land on their shores with an army of outlanders who cannot even speak the Common Tongue. The lords of Westeros do not know you, and have every reason to fear and mistrust you. You must win them over before you sail. A few at least.”

“And how am I to do that, if I go east as you counsel?”

He ate an olive and spit out the pit into his palm. “I do not know, Your Grace,” he admitted, “but I do know that the longer you remain in one place, the easier it will be for your enemies to find you. The name Targaryen still frightens them, so much so that they sent a man to murder you when they heard you were with child. What will they do when they learn of your dragons?”

Drogon was curled up beneath her arm, as hot as a stone that has soaked all day in the blazing sun. Rhaegal and Viserion were fighting over a scrap of meat, buffeting each other with their wings as smoke hissed from their nostrils. My furious children, she thought. They must not come to harm. “The comet led me to Qarth for a reason. I had hoped to find my army here, but it seems that will not be. What else remains, I ask myself?” I am afraid, she realized, but I must be brave. “Come the morrow, you must go to Pyat Pree.”

ACOK Daenerys II

Xaro Xhoan Daxos had offered Dany the hospitality of his home while she was in the city. She had expected something grand. She had not expected a palace larger than many a market town. It makes Magister Illyrio’s manse in Pentos look like a swineherd’s hovel, she thought. Xaro swore that his home could comfortably house all of her people and their horses besides; indeed, it swallowed them. An entire wing was given over to her. She would have her own gardens, a marble bathing pool, a scrying tower and warlock’s maze. Slaves would tend her every need. In her private chambers, the floors were green marble, the walls draped with colorful silk hangings that shimmered with every breath of air. “You are too generous,” she told Xaro Xhoan Daxos.

“For the Mother of Dragons, no gift is too great.” Xaro was a languid, elegant man with a bald head and a great beak of a nose crusted with rubies, opals, and flakes of jade. “On the morrow, you shall feast upon peacock and lark’s tongue, and hear music worthy of the most beautiful of women. The Thirteen will come to do you homage, and all the great of Qarth.”

All the great of Qarth will come to see my dragons, Dany thought, yet she thanked Xaro for his kindness before she sent him on his way. Pyat Pree took his leave as well, vowing to petition the Undying Ones for an audience. “An honor rare as summer snows.” Before he left he kissed her bare feet with his pale blue lips and pressed on her a gift, a jar of ointment that he swore would let her see the spirits of the air. Last of the three seekers to depart was Quaithe the shadowbinder. From her Dany received only a warning. “Beware,” the woman in the red lacquer mask said.

“Of whom?”

“Of all. They shall come day and night to see the wonder that has been born again into the world, and when they see they shall lust. For dragons are fire made flesh, and fire is power.”

~

She turned to her bloodriders. “We will keep our own watch so long as we are here. See that no one enters this wing of the palace without my leave, and take care that the dragons are always well guarded.”

“It shall be done, Khaleesi,” Aggo said.

“We have seen only the parts of Qarth that Pyat Pree wished us to see,” she went on. “Rakharo, go forth and look on the rest, and tell me what you find. Take good men with you—and women, to go places where men are forbidden.”

“As you say, I do, blood of my blood,” said Rakharo.

“Ser Jorah, find the docks and see what manner of ships lay at anchor. It has been half a year since I last heard tidings from the Seven Kingdoms. Perhaps the gods will have blown some good captain here from Westeros with a ship to carry us home.”

The knight frowned. “That would be no kindness. The Usurper will kill you, sure as sunrise.” Mormont hooked his thumbs through his swordbelt. “My place is here at your side.”

“Jhogo can guard me as well. You have more languages than my bloodriders, and the Dothraki mistrust the sea and those who sail her. Only you can serve me in this. Go among the ships and speak to the crews, learn where they are from and where they are bound and what manner of men command them.”

Reluctantly, the exile nodded. “As you say, my queen.”

~

It was near evenfall and Dany was feeding her dragons when Irri stepped through the silken curtains to tell her that Ser Jorah had returned from the docks ... and not alone. “Send him in, with whomever he has brought,” she said, curious.

When they entered, she was seated on a mound of cushions, her dragons all about her. The man he brought with him wore a cloak of green and yellow feathers and had skin as black as polished jet. “Your Grace,” the knight said, “I bring you Quhuru Mo, captain of the Cinnamon Wind out of Tall Trees Town.”

The black man knelt. “I am greatly honored, my queen,” he said; not in the tongue of the Summer Isles, which Dany did not know, but in the liquid Valyrian of the Nine Free Cities.

“The honor is mine, Quhuru Mo,” said Dany in the same language. “Have you come from the Summer Isles?”

“This is so, Your Grace, but before, not half a year past, we called at Oldtown. From there I bring you a wondrous gift.”

“A gift?”

“A gift of news. Dragonmother, Stormborn, I tell you true, Robert Baratheon is dead.”

Outside her walls, dusk was settling over Qarth, but a sun had risen in Dany’s heart. “Dead?” she repeated. In her lap, black Drogon hissed, and pale smoke rose before her face like a veil. “You are certain? The Usurper is dead?”

“So it is said in Oldtown, and Dorne, and Lys, and all the other ports where we have called.”

He sent me poisoned wine, yet I live and he is gone. “What was the manner of his death?” On her shoulder, pale Viserion flapped wings the color of cream, stirring the air.

“Torn by a monstrous boar whilst hunting in his kingswood, or so I heard in Oldtown. Others say his queen betrayed him, or his brother, or Lord Stark who was his Hand. Yet all the tales agree in this: King Robert is dead and in his grave.”

Dany had never looked upon the Usurper’s face, yet seldom a day had passed when she had not thought of him. His great shadow had lain across her since the hour of her birth, when she came forth amidst blood and storm into a world where she no longer had a place. And now this ebony stranger had lifted that shadow.

“The boy sits the Iron Throne now,” Ser Jorah said.

“King Joffrey reigns,” Quhuru Mo agreed, “but the Lannisters rule. Robert’s brothers have fled King’s Landing. The talk is, they mean to claim the crown. And the Hand has fallen, Lord Stark who was King Robert’s friend. He has been seized for treason.”

“Ned Stark a traitor?” Ser Jorah snorted. “Not bloody likely. The Long Summer will come again before that one would besmirch his precious honor.”

“What honor could he have?” Dany said. “He was a traitor to his true king, as were these Lannisters.” It pleased her to hear that the Usurper’s dogs were fighting amongst themselves, though she was unsurprised. The same thing happened when her Drogo died, and his great khalasar tore itself to pieces. “My brother is dead as well, Viserys who was the true king,” she told the Summer Islander. “Khal Drogo my lord husband killed him with a crown of molten gold.” Would her brother have been any wiser, had he known that the vengeance he had prayed for was so close at hand?

“Then I grieve for you, Dragonmother, and for bleeding Westeros, bereft of its rightful king.”

Beneath Dany’s gentle fingers, green Rhaegal stared at the stranger with eyes of molten gold. When his mouth opened, his teeth gleamed like black needles. “When does your ship return to Westeros, Captain?”

“Not for a year or more, I fear. From here the Cinnamon Wind sails east, to make the trader’s circle round the Jade Sea.”

“I see,” said Dany, disappointed. “I wish you fair winds and good trading, then. You have brought me a precious gift.”

“I have been amply repaid, great queen.”

She puzzled at that. “How so?”


His eyes gleamed. “I have seen dragons.”

Dany laughed. “And will see more of them one day, I hope. Come to me in King’s Landing when I am on my father’s throne, and you shall have a great reward.”

The Summer Islander promised he would do so, and kissed her lightly on the fingers as he took his leave. Jhiqui showed him out, while Ser Jorah Mormont remained.

ACOK Daenerys I

The Dothraki named the comet shierak qiya, the Bleeding Star. The old men muttered that it omened ill, but Daenerys Targaryen had seen it first on the night she had burned Khal Drogo, the night her dragons had awakened. It is the herald of my coming, she told herself as she gazed up into the night sky with wonder in her heart. The gods have sent it to show me the way.

Yet when she put the thought into words, her handmaid Doreah quailed. “That way lies the red lands, Khaleesi. A grim place and terrible, the riders say.”

“The way the comet points is the way we must go,” Dany insisted ... though in truth, it was the only way open to her.

She dare not turn north onto the vast ocean of grass they called the Dothraki sea. The first khalasar they met would swallow up her ragged band, slaying the warriors and slaving the rest. The lands of the Lamb Men south of the river were likewise closed to them. They were too few to defend themselves even against that unwarlike folk, and the Lhazareen had small reason to love them. She might have struck downriver for the ports at Meereen and Yunkai and Astapor, but Rakharo warned her that Pono’s khalasar had ridden that way, driving thousands of captives before them to sell in the flesh marts that festered like open sores on the shores of Slaver’s Bay. “Why should I fear Pono?” Dany objected. “He was Drogo’s ko, and always spoke me gently.”

“Ko Pono spoke you gently,” Ser Jorah Mormont said. “Khal Pono will kill you. He was the first to abandon Drogo. Ten thousand warriors went with him. You have a hundred.”

No, Dany thought. I have four. The rest are women, old sick men and boys whose hair has never been braided. “I have the dragons,” she pointed out.

~

Dany had named him the first of her Queensguard ... and when Mormont’s gruff counsel and the omens agreed, her course was clear. She called her people together and mounted her silver mare. Her hair had burned away in Drogo’s pyre, so her handmaids garbed her in the skin of the hrakkar Drogo had slain, the white lion of the Dothraki sea. Its fearsome head made a hood to cover her naked scalp, its pelt a cloak that flowed across her shoulders and down her back. The cream-colored dragon sunk sharp black claws into the lion’s mane and coiled its tail around her arm, while Ser Jorah took his accustomed place by her side.

“We follow the comet,” Dany told her khalasar. Once it was said, no word was raised against it. They had been Drogo’s people, but they were hers now. The Unburnt, they called her, and Mother of Dragons. Her word was their law.

They rode by night, and by day took refuge from the sun beneath their tents. Soon enough Dany learned the truth of Doreah’s words. This was no kindly country. They left a trail of dead and dying horses behind them as they went, for Pono, Jhaqo, and the others had seized the best of Drogo’s herds, leaving to Dany the old and the scrawny, the sickly and the lame, the broken animals and the ill-tempered. It was the same with the people. They are not strong, she told herself, so I must be their strength. I must show no fear, no weakness, no doubt. However frightened my heart, when they look upon my face they must see only Drogo’s queen. She felt older than her fourteen years. If ever she had truly been a girl, that time was done.

Three days into the march, the first man died. A toothless oldster with cloudy blue eyes, he fell exhausted from his saddle and could not rise again. An hour later he was done. Blood flies swarmed about his corpse and carried his ill luck to the living. “His time was past,” her handmaid Irri declared. “No man should live longer than his teeth.” The others agreed. Dany bid them kill the weakest of their dying horses, so the dead man might go mounted into the night lands.

Two nights later, it was an infant girl who perished. Her mother’s anguished wailing lasted all day, but there was nothing to be done. The child had been too young to ride, poor thing. Not for her the endless black grasses of the night lands; she must be born again.

There was little forage in the red waste, and less water. It was a sere and desolate land of low hills and barren windswept plains. The rivers they crossed were dry as dead men’s bones. Their mounts subsisted on the tough brown devilgrass that grew in clumps at the base of rocks and dead trees. Dany sent outriders ranging ahead of the column, but they found neither wells nor springs, only bitter pools, shallow and stagnant, shrinking in the hot sun. The deeper they rode into the waste, the smaller the pools became, while the distance between them grew. If there were gods in this trackless wilderness of stone and sand and red clay, they were hard dry gods, deaf to prayers for rain.

Wine gave out first, and soon thereafter the clotted mare’s milk the horselords loved better than mead. Then their stores of flatbread and dried meat were exhausted as well. Their hunters found no game, and only the flesh of their dead horses filled their bellies. Death followed death. Weak children, wrinkled old women, the sick and the stupid and the heedless, the cruel land claimed them all. Doreah grew gaunt and hollow-eyed, and her soft golden hair turned brittle as straw.

Dany hungered and thirsted with the rest of them. The milk in her breasts dried up, her nipples cracked and bled, and the flesh fell away from her day by day until she was lean and hard as a stick, yet it was her dragons she feared for.

~

Yet even as her dragons prospered, her khalasar withered and died. Around them the land turned ever more desolate. Even devilgrass grew scant; horses dropped in their tracks, leaving so few that some of her people must trudge along on foot. Doreah took a fever and grew worse with every league they crossed. Her lips and hands broke with blood blisters, her hair came out in clumps, and one evenfall she lacked the strength to mount her horse. Jhogo said they must leave her or bind her to her saddle, but Dany remembered a night on the Dothraki sea, when the Lysene girl had taught her secrets so that Drogo might love her more. She gave Doreah water from her own skin, cooled her brow with a damp cloth, and held her hand until she died, shivering. Only then would she permit the khalasar to press on.

They saw no sign of other travelers. The Dothraki began to mutter fearfully that the comet had led them to some hell. Dany went to Ser Jorah one morning as they made camp amidst a jumble of black wind-scoured stones. “Are we lost?” she asked him. “Does this waste have no end to it?”

“It has an end,” he answered wearily. “I have seen the maps the traders draw, my queen. Few caravans come this way, that is so, yet there are great kingdoms to the east, and cities full of wonders. Yi Ti, Qarth, Asshai by the Shadow ...”

“Will we live to see them?”

“I will not lie to you. The way is harder than I dared think.” [...] “Perhaps we are doomed if we press on ... but I know for a certainty that we are doomed if we turn back.”

[...] The next pool they found was scalding-hot and stinking of brimstone, but their skins were almost empty. The Dothraki cooled the water in jars and pots and drank it tepid. The taste was no less foul, but water was water, and all of them thirsted. Dany looked at the horizon with despair. They had lost a third of their number, and still the waste stretched before them, bleak and red and endless. The comet mocks my hopes, she thought, lifting her eyes to where it scored the sky. Have I crossed half the world and seen the birth of dragons only to die with them in this hard hot desert? She would not believe it.

The next day, dawn broke as they were crossing a cracked and fissured plain of hard red earth. Dany was about to command them to make camp when her outriders came racing back at a gallop. “A city, Khaleesi,” they cried. “A city pale as the moon and lovely as a maid. An hour’s ride, no more.”

“Show me,” she said.

When the city appeared before her, its walls and towers shimmering white behind a veil of heat, it looked so beautiful that Dany was certain it must be a mirage. “Do you know what place this might be?” she asked Ser Jorah.

The exile knight gave a weary shake of the head. “No, my queen. I have never traveled this far east.”

The distant white walls promised rest and safety, a chance to heal and grow strong, and Dany wanted nothing so much as to rush toward them. Instead she turned to her bloodriders. “Blood of my blood, go ahead of us and learn the name of this city, and what manner of welcome we should expect.”

“Ai, Khaleesi,” said Aggo.

Her riders were not long in returning. Rakharo swung down from his saddle. From his medallion belt hung the great curving arakh that Dany had bestowed on him when she named him bloodrider. “This city is dead, Khaleesi. Nameless and godless we found it, the gates broken, only wind and flies moving through the streets.”

Jhiqui shuddered. “When the gods are gone, the evil ghosts feast by night. Such places are best shunned. It is known.”

“It is known,” Irri agreed.

“Not to me.” Dany put her heels into her horse and showed them the way, trotting beneath the shattered arch of an ancient gate and down a silent street. Ser Jorah and her bloodriders followed, and then, more slowly, the rest of the Dothraki.

How long the city had been deserted she could not know, but the white walls, so beautiful from afar, were cracked and crumbling when seen up close. Inside was a maze of narrow crooked alleys. The buildings pressed close, their facades blank, chalky, windowless. Everything was white, as if the people who lived here had known nothing of color. They rode past heaps of sun-washed rubble where houses had fallen in, and elsewhere saw the faded scars of fire. At a place where six alleys came together, Dany passed an empty marble plinth. Dothraki had visited this place before, it would seem. Perhaps even now the missing statue stood among the other stolen gods in Vaes Dothrak. She might have ridden past it a hundred times, never knowing. On her shoulder, Viserion hissed.

They made camp before the remnants of a gutted palace, on a windswept plaza where devilgrass grew between the paving stones. Dany sent out men to search the ruins. Some went reluctantly, yet they went ... and one scarred old man returned a brief time later, hopping and grinning, his hands overflowing with figs. They were small, withered things, yet her people grabbed for them greedily, jostling and pushing at each other, stuffing the fruit into their cheeks and chewing blissfully.

Other searchers returned with tales of other fruit trees, hidden behind closed doors in secret gardens. Aggo showed her a courtyard overgrown with twisting vines and tiny green grapes, and Jhogo discovered a well where the water was pure and cold. Yet they found bones too, the skulls of the unburied dead, bleached and broken. “Ghosts,” Irri muttered. “Terrible ghosts. We must not stay here, Khaleesi, this is their place.”

“I fear no ghosts. Dragons are more powerful than ghosts.” And figs are more important. “Go with Jhiqui and find me some clean sand for a bath, and trouble me no more with silly talk.”

In the coolness of her tent, Dany blackened horsemeat over a brazier and reflected on her choices. There was food and water here to sustain them, and enough grass for the horses to regain their strength. How pleasant it would be to wake every day in the same place, to linger among shady gardens, eat figs, and drink cool water, as much as she might desire.

When Irri and Jhiqui returned with pots of white sand, Dany stripped and let them scrub her clean.

~

The next morn, she summoned her bloodriders. “Blood of my blood,” she told the three of them, “I have need of you. Each of you is to choose three horses, the hardiest and healthiest that remain to us. Load as much water and food as your mounts can bear, and ride forth for me. Aggo shall strike southwest, Rakharo due south. Jhogo, you are to follow shierak qiya on southeast.”

“What shall we seek, Khaleesi?” asked Jhogo.

“Whatever there is,” Dany answered. “Seek for other cities, living and dead. Seek for caravans and people. Seek for rivers and lakes and the great salt sea. Find how far this waste extends before us, and what lies on the other side. When I leave this place, I do not mean to strike out blind again. I will know where I am bound, and how best to get there.”

And so they went, the bells in their hair ringing softly, while Dany settled down with her small band of survivors in the place they named Vaes Tolorro, the city of bones. Day followed night followed day. Women harvested fruit from the gardens of the dead. Men groomed their mounts and mended saddles, stirrups, and shoes. Children wandered the twisty alleys and found old bronze coins and bits of purple glass and stone flagons with handles carved like snakes. One woman was stung by a red scorpion, but hers was the only death. The horses began to put on some flesh. Dany tended Ser Jorah’s wound herself, and it began to heal.

Rakharo was the first to return. Due south the red waste stretched on and on, he reported, until it ended on a bleak shore beside the poison water. Between here and there lay only swirling sand, wind-scoured rocks, and plants bristly with sharp thorns. He had passed the bones of a dragon, he swore, so immense that he had ridden his horse through its great black jaws. Other than that, he had seen nothing.

Dany gave him charge of a dozen of her strongest men, and set them to pulling up the plaza to get to the earth beneath. If devilgrass could grow between the paving stones, other grasses would grow when the stones were gone. They had wells enough, no lack of water. Given seed, they could make the plaza bloom.

Aggo was back next. The southwest was barren and burnt, he swore. He had found the ruins of two more cities, smaller than Vaes Tolorro but otherwise the same. One was warded by a ring of skulls mounted on rusted iron spears, so he dared not enter, but he had explored the second for as long as he could. He showed Dany an iron bracelet he had found, set with a uncut fire opal the size of her thumb. There were scrolls as well, but they were dry and crumbling and Aggo had left them where they lay.

Dany thanked him and told him to see to the repair of the gates. If enemies had crossed the waste to destroy these cities in ancient days, they might well come again. “If so, we must be ready,” she declared.

Jhogo was gone so long that Dany feared him lost, but finally when they had all but ceased to look for him, he came riding up from the southeast. One of the guards that Aggo had posted saw him first and gave a shout, and Dany rushed to the walls to see for herself. It was true. Jhogo came, yet not alone. Behind him rode three queerly garbed strangers atop ugly humped creatures that dwarfed any horse.

They drew rein before the city gates, and looked up to see Dany on the wall above them. “Blood of my blood,” Jhogo called, “I have been to the great city Qarth, and returned with three who would look on you with their own eyes.”

Dany stared down at the strangers. “Here I stand. Look, if that is your pleasure ... but first tell me your names.”

The pale man with the blue lips replied in guttural Dothraki, “I am Pyat Pree, the great warlock.”

The bald man with the jewels in his nose answered in the Valyrian of the Free Cities, “I am Xaro Xhoan Daxos of the Thirteen, a merchant prince of Qarth.”

The woman in the lacquered wooden mask said in the Common Tongue of the Seven Kingdoms, “I am Quaithe of the Shadow. We come seeking dragons.”

“Seek no more,” Daenerys Targaryen told them. “You have found them.”

AGOT Daenerys X

On the platform they piled Khal Drogo’s treasures: his great tent, his painted vests, his saddles and harness, the whip his father had given him when he came to manhood, the arakh he had used to slay Khal Ogo and his son, a mighty dragonbone bow. Aggo would have added the weapons Drogo’s bloodriders had given Dany for bride gifts as well, but she forbade it. “Those are mine,” she told him, “and I mean to keep them.”

~

“Bring my eggs,” Dany commanded her handmaids. Something in her voice made them run.

AGOT Daenerys VIII

“We have ridden far enough today. We will camp here.”

“Here?” Haggo looked around them. The land was brown and sere, inhospitable. “This is no camping ground.”

“It is not for a woman to bid us halt,” said Qotho, “not even a khaleesi.”

“We camp here,” Dany repeated. “Haggo, tell them Khal Drogo commanded the halt. If any ask why, say to them that my time is near and I could not continue. Cohollo, bring up the slaves, they must put up the khal’s tent at once. Qotho—”

“You do not command me, Khaleesi,” Qotho said.

“Find Mirri Maz Duur,” she told him. The godswife would be walking among the other Lamb Men, in the long column of slaves. “Bring her to me, with her chest.”

Qotho glared down at her, his eyes hard as flint. “The maegi.” He spat. “This I will not do.”

“You will,” Dany said, “or when Drogo wakes, he will hear why you defied me.”

~

Trembling, her eyes full of sudden tears, Dany turned away from them. He fell from his horse! It was so, she had seen it, and the bloodriders, and no doubt her handmaids and the men of her khas as well. And how many more? They could not keep it secret, and Dany knew what that meant. A khal who could not ride could not rule, and Drogo had fallen from his horse.

“We must bathe him,” she said stubbornly. She must not allow herself to despair.

~

“Is there no other way?”

“No other.”

Khal Drogo gave a shuddering gasp.

“Do it,” Dany blurted. She must not be afraid; she was the blood of the dragon. “Save him.”

“There is a price,” the godswife warned her.

“You’ll have gold, horses, whatever you like.”

“It is not a matter of gold or horses. This is bloodmagic, lady. Only death may pay for life.”

“Death?” Dany wrapped her arms around herself protectively, rocked back and forth on her heels. “My death?” She told herself she would die for him, if she must. She was the blood of the dragon, she would not be afraid. Her brother Rhaegar had died for the woman he loved.

~

“Khaleesi,” he pleaded, “you must not do this thing. Let me kill this maegi.”

“Kill her and you kill your khal,” Dany said.

“This is bloodmagic,” he said. “It is forbidden.”

“I am khaleesi, and I say it is not forbidden. In Vaes Dothrak, Khal Drogo slew a stallion and I ate his heart, to give our son strength and courage. This is the same. The same.”

~

“This must not be,” Qotho thundered.

She had not seen the bloodrider return. Haggo and Cohollo were with him. They had brought the hairless men, the eunuchs who healed with knife and needle and fire.

“This will be,” Dany replied.

AGOT Daenerys VII

“You cannot claim them all, child,” Ser Jorah said, the fourth time they stopped, while the warriors of her khas herded her new slaves behind her.

“I am khaleesi, heir to the Seven Kingdoms, the blood of the dragon,” Dany reminded him. “It is not for you to tell me what I cannot do.” Across the city, a building collapsed in a great gout of fire and smoke, and she heard distant screams and the wailing of frightened children.

~

“If your warriors would mount these women, let them take them gently and keep them for wives. Give them places in the khalasar and let them bear you sons.”

Qotho was ever the cruelest of the bloodriders. It was he who laughed. “Does the horse breed with the sheep?”

Something in his tone reminded her of Viserys. Dany turned on him angrily. “The dragon feeds on horse and sheep alike.”

AGOT Daenerys III

“Wait here,” Dany told Ser Jorah. “Tell them all to stay. Tell them I command it.”

The knight smiled. Ser Jorah was not a handsome man. He had a neck and shoulders like a bull, and coarse black hair covered his arms and chest so thickly that there was none left for his head. Yet his smiles gave Dany comfort. “You are learning to talk like a queen, Daenerys.”

“Not a queen,” said Dany. “A khaleesi.” She wheeled her horse about and galloped down the ridge alone.

The advice she received in ACOK

ACOK Daenerys V

But where am I to go? Ser Jorah proposed that they journey farther east, away from her enemies in the Seven Kingdoms. Her bloodriders would sooner have returned to their great grass sea, even if it meant braving the red waste again.

ACOK Daenerys III

[“]Why should my sailors care who sits upon the throne of some kingdom at the edge of the world?”

“I will pay them to care.”

“With what coin, sweet star of my heaven?”

“With the gold the seekers bring.”

“That you may do,” Xaro acknowledged, “but so much caring will cost dear. You will need to pay them far more than I do, and all of Qarth laughs at my ruinous generosity.”

“If the Thirteen will not aid me, perhaps I should ask the Guild of Spicers or the Tourmaline Brotherhood?”

Xaro gave a languid shrug. “They will give you nothing but flattery and lies. The Spicers are dissemblers and braggarts and the Brotherhood is full of pirates.”

“Then I must heed Pyat Pree, and go to the warlocks.”

The merchant prince sat up sharply. “Pyat Pree has blue lips, and it is truly said that blue lips speak only lies. Heed the wisdom of one who loves you. Warlocks are bitter creatures who eat dust and drink of shadows. They will give you naught. They have naught to give.”

“I would not need to seek sorcerous help if my friend Xaro Xhoan Daxos would give me what I ask.”

~

“You will get no help in this city, Khaleesi.” Ser Jorah took an onion between thumb and forefinger. “Each day I am more convinced of that than the day before. The Pureborn see no farther than the walls of Qarth, and Xaro ...”

“He asked me to marry him again.”

“Yes, and I know why.” When the knight frowned, his heavy black brows joined together above his deep-set eyes.

“He dreams of me, day and night.” She laughed.
“Forgive me, my queen, but it is your dragons he dreams of.”

“Xaro assures me that in Qarth, man and woman each retain their own property after they are wed. The dragons are mine.” She smiled as Drogon came hopping and flapping across the marble floor to crawl up on the cushion beside her.

“He tells it true as far as it goes, but there’s one thing he failed to mention. The Qartheen have a curious wedding custom, my queen. On the day of their union, a wife may ask a token of love from her husband. Whatsoever she desires of his worldly goods, he must grant. And he may ask the same of her. One thing only may be asked, but whatever is named may not be denied.”

“One thing,” she repeated. “And it may not be denied?”

“With one dragon, Xaro Xhoan Daxos would rule this city, but one ship will further our cause but little.”

Dany nibbled at an onion and reflected ruefully on the faithlessness of men. “We passed through the bazaar on our way back from the Hall of a Thousand Thrones,” she told Ser Jorah. “Quaithe was there.” She told him of the firemage and the fiery ladder, and what the woman in the red mask had told her.

“I would be glad to leave this city, if truth be told,” the knight said when she was done. “But not for Asshai.”

“Where, then?”

“East,” he said.

“I am half a world away from my kingdom even here. If I go any farther east I may never find my way home to Westeros.”

“If you go west, you risk your life.”

“House Targaryen has friends in the Free Cities,” she reminded him. “Truer friends than Xaro or the Pureborn.”

“If you mean Illyrio Mopatis, I wonder. For sufficient gold, Illyrio would sell you as quickly as he would a slave.”

“My brother and I were guests in Illyrio’s manse for half a year. If he meant to sell us, he could have done it then.”

“He did sell you,” Ser Jorah said. “To Khal Drogo.”

Dany flushed. He had the truth of it, but she did not like the sharpness with which he put it. “Illyrio protected us from the Usurper’s knives, and he believed in my brother’s cause.”

“Illyrio believes in no cause but Illyrio. Gluttons are greedy men as a rule, and magisters are devious. Illyrio Mopatis is both. What do you truly know of him?”

“I know that he gave me my dragon eggs.”

He snorted. “If he’d known they were like to hatch, he would have sat on them himself.”

That made her smile despite herself. “Oh, I have no doubt of that, ser. I know Illyrio better than you think. I was a child when I left his manse in Pentos to wed my sun-and-stars, but I was neither deaf nor blind. And I am no child now.”

“Even if Illyrio is the friend you think him,” the knight said stubbornly, “he is not powerful enough to enthrone you by himself, no more than he could your brother.”

“He is rich,” she said. “Not so rich as Xaro, perhaps, but rich enough to hire ships for me, and men as well.”

“Sellswords have their uses,” Ser Jorah admitted, “but you will not win your father’s throne with sweepings from the Free Cities. Nothing knits a broken realm together so quick as an invading army on its soil.”

“I am their rightful queen,” Dany protested.

“You are a stranger who means to land on their shores with an army of outlanders who cannot even speak the Common Tongue. The lords of Westeros do not know you, and have every reason to fear and mistrust you. You must win them over before you sail. A few at least.”

“And how am I to do that, if I go east as you counsel?”

He ate an olive and spit out the pit into his palm. “I do not know, Your Grace,” he admitted, “but I do know that the longer you remain in one place, the easier it will be for your enemies to find you. The name Targaryen still frightens them, so much so that they sent a man to murder you when they heard you were with child. What will they do when they learn of your dragons?”

ACOK Daenerys II

“Then why do men lower their voices when they speak of the warlocks of Qarth? All across the east, their power and wisdom are revered.”

“Once they were mighty,” Xaro agreed, “but now they are as ludicrous as those feeble old soldiers who boast of their prowess long after strength and skill have left them. They read their crumbling scrolls, drink shade-of-the-evening until their lips turn blue, and hint of dread powers, but they are hollow husks compared to those who went before. Pyat Pree’s gifts will turn to dust in your hands, I warn you.” He gave his camel a lick of his whip and sped away.

“The crow calls the raven black,” muttered Ser Jorah in the Common Tongue of Westeros. The exile knight rode at her right hand, as ever. For their entrance into Qarth, he had put away his Dothraki garb and donned again the plate and mail and wool of the Seven Kingdoms half a world away. “You would do well to avoid both those men, Your Grace.”

“Those men will help me to my crown,” she said. “Xaro has vast wealth, and Pyat Pree— ”

“—pretends to power,” the knight said brusquely. On his dark green surcoat, the bear of House Mormont stood on its hind legs, black and fierce. Jorah looked no less ferocious as he scowled at the crowd that filled the bazaar. “I would not linger here long, my queen. I mislike the very smell of this place.”

Dany smiled. “Perhaps it’s the camels you’re smelling. The Qartheen themselves seem sweet enough to my nose.”

“Sweet smells are sometimes used to cover foul ones.”

My great bear, Dany thought. I am his queen, but I will always be his cub as well, and he will always guard me. It made her feel safe, but sad as well. She wished she could love him better than she did.

ACOK Daenerys I

“That way lies the red lands, Khaleesi. A grim place and terrible, the riders say.”

~

Rakharo warned her that Pono’s khalasar had ridden that way, driving thousands of captives before them to sell in the flesh marts that festered like open sores on the shores of Slaver’s Bay. “Why should I fear Pono?” Dany objected. “He was Drogo’s ko, and always spoke me gently.”

“Ko Pono spoke you gently,” Ser Jorah Mormont said. “Khal Pono will kill you. He was the first to abandon Drogo. Ten thousand warriors went with him. You have a hundred.”

[...] “I have the dragons,” she pointed out.

“Hatchlings,” Ser Jorah said. “One swipe from an arakh would put an end to them, though Pono is more like to seize them for himself. Your dragon eggs were more precious than rubies. A living dragon is beyond price. In all the world, there are only three. Every man who sees them will want them, my queen.”

~

“You will not live long should you meet Khal Pono. Nor Khal Jhaqo, nor any of the others. You must go where they do not.”

#daenerys targaryen #valyrianscrolls #a clash of kings #a game of thrones #dany passages

[unclefungusthegoat]

Will The Circle Be Unbroken? - Far Cry 5 Week (Day 6): Music

Hello all! So in all honesty, I wrote most of this an entire year ago hahaha, for the Hope County Gothic Festival but got really shy about posting it. But I figured I could use it for the Far Cry 5 Week, for the Music day! It’s a songfic, featuring a song that I really wish had been in the game - Will The Circle Be Unbroken and it’s FUNERAL FIC HOOORAAAAY. 

Here is the song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9F1l6xXLSI0

Get ready for some ALTERNATIVE EULOGIES too, because sadness is fun.

This can be read on AO3: HERE

All my FC5 Week fics can be read: HERE

Trigger Warnings: Canonical Major Character Deaths, Mentions of Child Abuse, Mentions of Drowning, Decomposition, Fire and Funeral Pyres

The ceasefire was fragile.

Undefined.

No flag upon ramparts, or ink marked on a page. Just an agreement, whispered, gestured and silently promised, that a single night would be set apart for retrieval and burial of the dead. Sundown until sunrise. Not a shot to be fired, confession to be heard, building to be bombed, or heretic strung up. Just stillness and rest. A new Sabbath, of sorts. And for the people of Hope County who spent vast swathes of the day clinging to their lives, it seemed nothing short of a miracle.

It was on this night, on a dusty road through the dead farmland, that a procession of faithful came marching. Their faces were turned to the darkened sky. Eyes burning with sorrow, searing vibrantly like stardust. Alight with fury. Dampened with grief. And with their gaze, they spared no glance for the heretics who lined the path. No care for the vengeful, who bit their tongues and held in their spittle, and sought a glance of the dead to ease their blood lust. Not even a thought for the sinner who had taken so much, challenged their holy purpose. Given them this weight upon their shoulders.

The Father led with faltering step.

His eyes were hazy behind tinted glass. His fingers trembled. His scars, his sins, seemed to burn. But his voice was resolute, the melody echoing through the dark:

There are loved ones in the glory, Whose dear forms you often miss; When you close your earthly story, Will you join them in their bliss?

Carried aloft upon the faithful’s shoulders, upon beds made from velvet, slept the Heralds of Eden. Stilled into a long awaited peace, punctures incarnadine between their ribs a stark reminder of how they had suffered.

Each lay daubed in their own decay.

Will the circle be unbroken By and by, Lord, by and by. There's a better home awaiting In the sky, Lord, in the sky.

It was a song they had always known.

And though it was his flock that called the hymn forth, Joseph could only hear Jacob's low timbre, humming it to ease him into sleep when the belt marks on his back cut too deep. After Old Mad Seed had bellowed Bible verses in his ears, and torn heathen drawings from where they were pinned proudly on the bedroom wall. On the school bus after another endless night hearing Mother scream.

Then slowly he heard his own voice, tinged with a weariness too antiquated for how young he had been. He heard it reverberate through the orphanage halls, the eve before John had been taken away. He'd stroked his brother's hair and caught his tears with his thumbs, and sang until the sun rose:

In the joyous days of childhood, Oft they told of wondrous love, Pointed to the dying Saviour; Now they dwell with Him above.

The lyrics had been worn down by their use when he had been alone. Comforting. Protective. Like an old pair of boots too reliable to cast aside, or a threadbare blanket that still smells of home.

Or the memory of a brother stood boldly in the fire’s glow.

“Jacob...”

Dog tags now around his own neck, metal scraping with every step.

A blood soaked rabbit’s foot.

“You sought purpose. You were lost. I showed you who you once were, and opened your eyes to the Garden you were born to protect. And you cast aside your weakness- the weariness wrought deep within your soul by governments and generals who sought to use your compassion for their selfish ideals. You became strong, brother. You sheltered our Eden with a heart forged in battle. You asked nothing but brotherhood in return. You embraced your family with the strength of gods. And you carried that strength until the end.”

The Soldier, freshly slain, lay proud, like a Viking martyr. Knife threaded between his fingers, the ancient burns that speckled him like rust on the armour he still seemed to bear. His Judges crowned the mountain ledges, howling to the night sky. In the torchlight, his fiery hair shimmered like copper wire; a fleeting glance might think it a halo encircling his skull. His mind, once full of the horrors of war, now quieted. His mouth, that knew the taste of man, free to taste the soil.

Will the circle be unbroken By and by, Lord, by and by. There's a better home awaiting In the sky, Lord, in the sky.

“Faith...”

He had yet to choose another.

None else had her heart, her spirit, her devotion.

“There were some who thought you cruel. Calculating. Jezebel incarnate. They did not understand that you were a mother, and with the burden of motherhood comes a heavy hand. I chose you because you did not shy away from the lessons children must learn. You took the lost and gave them wings. You took the despairing and gave them hope. You took the sick of soul and gave them peace. You took the name of Seed and let it’s glory shine through you. Rest well, my sister. Sleep well, my Faith.”

The Siren once wielded beauty. Now her face was swollen and pallid, bloated where the water had filled her pores and the creatures of the lake had begun to strip her skin away. Yet how sweetly she was scented by the flowers in her flaxen hair! It mingled with the fresh smell of the trees and the distant tang of smoke, heightened in the darkness, when the senses are keen. Even in death, she seduced onlookers with her song. A song composed of silence, of hope and dreams now lost, underscored with the cries of those who mourned.

You remember songs of heaven Which you sang with childish voice, Do you love the hymns they taught you, Or are songs of earth your choice?

Will the circle be unbroken By and by, Lord, by and by. There's a better home awaiting In the sky, Lord, in the sky.

“John...”

He’d finally reached the sky.

Feathered his wings.

Joseph’s heart was fracturing. Oh, the things he wished to say...

“I carry your sin upon my shoulder, that same shoulder three times you felt bitten by wrath. It is a sin of neglect. Neglect of your faith and your body, and by that, God, for we are made in his image. You saw a god every time you glanced in a mirror. A cruel world made you vain and selfish, and the child who had suffered so greatly thought you invincible. You drowned in your pride, as I drown in my regret that I could not save you. I pray that you know my disappointment, John, and I beg mercy for your soul. In all my prayers, and my dreams of eternity together, I ask only that God sees how very hard you tried.”

The Baptist had rotted where he had fallen, swallowed by the damp earth. Shards of dirt had claimed the sorrows inked upon his flesh, the stories he’d wanted to the world to know. His palms were frayed by rope. His lungs were lined with lead. But now he lay in the starlight, arisen from nature’s oesophagus to be cleansed and laid to rest with honour. The bones of his collapsing face seemed testament to how he’d be forgotten. But oh, how they cried his name! A saint, redeemed. A sinner, saved.

You can picture happy gath'rings 'Round the fireside long ago, And you think of tearful partings, When they left you here below.

Will the circle be unbroken By and by, Lord, by and by. There's a better home awaiting In the sky, Lord, in the sky.

In the distance, he could see the pyres silhouetted by the moonlight. Though their bodies were cold, his Heralds would soon feel warmth again, and the embers that rose from the flames would carry their souls to the stars.

It would be a sight remembered for an age; the first flames of a Collapse long awaited.

And soon, all would burn-

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

Joseph’s eyes flickered open, and the fuchsia tinge of this new world’s morning mist settled into view. He sat lost in the blossoming forest, somewhere near the old compound. Sweet nectar scented the air. Damp grass and sodden earth cocooned his feet. He shivered slightly, his naked chest baptized by the dew.

Before him lay a single grave, shallow and solitary. Dirt was unceremoniously cast across it, and a rusted iron crucifix of Eden’s Gate, now New Eden, stood guard.

No flowers.

No velvet.

No choir of lamenting brothers and sisters.

Not even their names.

His body had whined under the strain of shovelling. Age and years of almost starving had weakened his arms, but when the Judge had offered to accompany him, to put to rest the overwhelming guilt that had consumed them, and to move the dirt for him, he gently refused. He owed it to his family to do it himself. It had taken him days to hike across the county, alone with only his memories, to collect their remains. What little remained of them after all those years.

He had had not the strength, or enough of them left, to dig three.

But they were reunited now, in eternal embrace. No ceremony. No procession. No pomp and martyrdom, as he had dreamed. Their resting place was the picture of modesty. Humility. A grave for the truly devoted. Their bones would turn to chalk and clay, and they would feed the insects and the reawakened soil.

Watch the new Eden grow.

Someday he’d be buried there with them.

Together forever.

And he thought, as he rested beside them to finish their song:

What more had they ever wanted?

One by one their seats were emptied, One by one they went away; Now the family is parted, Will it be complete one day?

Will the circle be unbroken By and by, Lord, by and by. There's a better home awaiting In the sky, Lord, in the sky.

#far cry 5 #FC5Week #FC5Week2019 #far cry new dawn #joseph seed #jacob seed #john seed #faith seed #the judge #this was a total shortcut so I didn't have to write something for every day hahahaha #I'm behind on my main fics hahaha #but now it's back to writing UNdead John #ugh this is massively description heavy but oh well #also with this #I've hit exactly 87000 words published on AO3 #woooooooo