#do as i say not as these two do with their vastly under negotiated (read: not all negotiated or discussed) kinks

[hippolotamus]

Fuck It Friday

Tagged by @disasterbuckdiaz @wikiangela @daffi-990 @steadfastsaturnsrings ... in true Fuck It spirit this is neither on Friday or very PG. I was very inspired by my wife @disasterbuckdiaz's snippet and this kinda spilled out.

No pressure tagging @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @giddyupbuck @stereopticons @monsterrae1 @spotsandsocks @honestlydarkprincess @eddiediaztho @thewolvesof1998 @forthewolves @chaosandwolves @wildlife4life @spaceprincessem @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @heartshapedvows @loserdiaz @watchyourbuck @your-catfish-friend @ladydorian05 @statueinthestone @buddierights @911onabc @jesuisici33 @pirrusstuff @cowboy-buddie if you wanna 😘

“You’re overthinking again. If you want to – and I’m pretty sure you do,” Eddie whispers, tracing his thumb along Buck’s lower lip, “I can help with that.” 

Eddie’s fingers trace along Buck’s jawline until they settle on his shoulder where they fit perfectly, his thumb nestled into the divot of Buck’s collarbone. A space that may as well have been marked Property of Eddie Diaz when Buck was born. 

“Y-you can?” Buck’s eyelids flutter closed, but he quickly forces them open again, not wanting to miss anything Eddie’s doing. 

Eddie presses a featherlight kiss to the corner of Buck’s mouth, first one side then the other, another to his cheekbone, until finally he’s right next to Buck’s ear, his voice low and sweet like the symphony of chirping grasshoppers and glowing fireflies in summer. “You know I can, sweetheart. Because I know you, and what you need right now. How your beautiful brain is so jumbled with thoughts you don’t know which one to turn to next. How you’re wishing they would all disappear. How badly you want someone else to take control. Because you could distract yourself, but you and I both know it wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying.” 

Eddie kisses the hinge of Buck’s jaw, sending a shower of sparks racing down his spine, chasing after the offer Eddie’s delivering on a silver platter. “But I need you to tell me. Do you think you can do that, baby?” 

“F-fuck, Eddie. Yeah. Yes.”

“Yes?” Eddie purrs. “Yes, what? Yes, you can tell me what you need? Yes, you want me to take you apart and put you back together? Or yes, you want me to fuck you so thoroughly you don’t remember your own name?”

Jesus Christ. “All of that, Eds. God, everything. Want everything with you,” Buck babbles. 

Eddie pulls him in for a devastating, earth shattering kiss that would make Buck weak in the knees if he wasn’t already. His lips part when Eddie’s tongue teases at the seam, letting their tongues slide together. But then Eddie tears himself away and Buck whines, trying to chase after him. 

“Shhh, shh, shh. Just wait, it’s okay.” Eddie strokes Buck’s cheek, soothing his impatience. “Can you be a good boy for me?”

The words hit Buck with a force heavier than a tsunami wave, more intense than a bolt of lightning. He can’t help the way he immediately feels gooey and pliant, ready to obey. 

“Yes, sir. S’good. Can be so good.” Buck preens at the way Eddie’s breath hitches on the word sir. He feels like he’s been infused with sunshine and starlight, so happy he’s done something to please Eddie.

“Stand still. Right here. No matter what, okay? Not a muscle unless I tell you.” 

Buck nods eagerly.

“Words, darlin’.” Eddie’s drawl coats every syllable, unexpected but reassuring, and Buck wants to fucking live in it. Wants to wrap the honeyed intonation around himself like a second skin and never leave. “I need words.”

“Yes, sir. Won’t move. Promise.” 

Eddie hums in delight, taking a step back, just enough to create a pocket of space. He gathers the hem of Buck’s polo and lifts, silently commanding Buck to follow. Buck does, willingly, raising his arms for Eddie to complete his task. Eddie tosses it to the side then bites the tip of his thumb, walking in a slow circle, surveying. 

Buck casually wonders if this is how sculptures feel. Pieces put out in the world for public consumption. He would gladly stand here as long as Eddie wants him to, would allow Eddie to caress and carve and smooth him into an ideal shape.  

The sound of Eddie’s footsteps stop somewhere behind him, replaced by fingers fidgeting with buttons that make a quiet clack when the shirt hits the floor. Then there is only a maddening, heavy silence, leaving no indication of how close Eddie might be. Buck can’t detect his breathing, but knows Eddie – his partner – is still there. 

Sweet relief washes over him as Eddie wraps himself around Buck, hands sliding over his pecs and down the ridge of his abs, a blazing line of heat where Eddie’s chest presses against his back. Buck imagines, if he were to look, their bare skin would glow everywhere it touches. Two celestial beings burning bright and hot like stars in the night sky. 

Silent signals traverse between them like radio waves. Communications in the form of every one of Eddie’s touches and breaths fanning across the line of his neck, the shell of his ear, the point where the two meet. It’s something Buck supposes was inevitable. Eddie knows him in every other way. It’s not impossible to believe he knows this too. That Eddie would already be attuned to the ways Buck’s body reacts, the precise frequency of how he craves Eddie. Maybe it’s more obvious than Buck suspects. An aura of overwhelm and too much and too in his head that manifests as a primal, visceral need to submit. He wouldn’t be surprised to learn it radiates off of him in shades of sage, twilight, silver and violet. 

Eddie’s fingers skim outward, along the vee of Buck’s torso, over his wrists, trailing through coarse arm hair, up to the bend of Buck’s elbows. Buck wants to turn around, wants to capture Eddie’s mouth in a filthy kiss, wants to see the molten desire turning chocolate brown irises to nearly pure black. But that’s not what Eddie told him to do. Eddie had very specific instructions. And Buck is rather inclined to listen. He told Eddie he would be good for him. And he will. He wants to, more than anything. 

“Mmhmm,” Eddie hums, planting kisses like tiny flowers along the line of Buck’s shoulders. As if Buck is a wild, abandoned patch of earth that Eddie believes can grow something beautiful and transformative. Because, to Buck, Eddie couldn’t do anything less. He would never be capable of making something unsightly or unpleasant, even with Buck as a starting point. 

#remember kids #do as i say not as these two do with their vastly under negotiated (read: not all negotiated or discussed) kinks #and consent is *always* important #fuck it friday #unfortunately i have no idea when i'll do more with this #my brain is not super accommodating to sexy thoughts atm #i'm just lucky my gorgeous wife helps things along #fic: i light the match to taste the heat #idek how this many words came out tbh #hippo writes #buddie wip

[wangxianficrecs]

Follower Recs

There are nearly FORTY THOUSAND AO3 stories in the MDZS universe, and I am just a single person with limited time, so....  Here’s a bit of y’all doing my work for me!

~*~

Mojo, I know it'd probably be recced before, but I have to recommend stiltonbasket's Twelve Moons and a Fortnight. It has made me squee of cuteness, hold my breath with suspense, marvel over the worldbuilding and character interactions, and just awed me at how well every original piece of lore and HC ties back to canon. I cried over it, only to cry laughing the next chapter. it kept me going through an entire year of lockdown and is finally coming to an end, and the resolution was magnificent.

*[I’m subscribed to this and keep waiting for Part One to be completed, but instead later parts keep getting posted:  is it completed but not marked?  I am confused.  And eager to read!]*

Twelve Moons and a Fortnight

by stiltonbasket (G, 267k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary:  "Let me get this straight. You really want me to stand in for you while you help Jin Ling settle in at Koi Tower?"

"Who else do I have?" Jiang Cheng snaps, ears turning scarlet as Jin Ling tries to pretend he isn't listening. "Father trained you to serve as my deputy, didn't he? And don't say you don't remember, or I'll break your legs."

"Well, yes," Wei Wuxian manages. "Uh. I'll just let Lan Zhan know I'll be at Lotus Pier until you're back at home, then."

Or, the one where Wei Wuxian spends the year before his wedding as Yunmeng Jiang's acting sect leader, and the cultivation world's greatest love story finds its happy ending with the help of three juniors, a teenage romance, and one very involved (and exasperated) younger brother.

~*~

May I recommend fielty by milkpunch a sort of AU where lwj in order to save his sect from being destroyed by nine after wen rouhans assasination goes to work as a guard to Jin zixuan where he meets wwx the right hand of Jin guanguao... ~ @pastashouldbeeatenwithafork

Fealty

by milkpunch (E, 84k, wangxian)

Summary:  Before, there had been two reigning kingdoms. Both claimed to be blessed by the sun, but with vastly differing views. One, under the name of Wen, was washed red with blood and violence, its soldiers fierce and stoked with a fiery blaze. The other, under the name of Jin, was bathed in golden light and glory, its soldiers proud and heavy with coin and prestige. The two kingdoms went to war for the true honour of having the sun’s blessing, fighting for many long years with many lives lost.

Jin Guangshan, emperor of the Golden Sun Palace, found that the sun favoured him more.

To prevent his kingdom from being crushed, Lan Zhan, second heir to the Lan kingdom, exchanges his freedom for that of servitude to the Jin kingdom. He is appointed as Jin Zixuan's personal guard, but there's more on his plate than just keeping the Jin heir safe. The Golden Sun Palace is not all that it seems, and the dazzling lives of the royals are less perfect than they appear.

~*~

Hey, I was wondering if I could rec a fic to you. My bestie wrote it for the Lunar New Year Wangxian gift exchange and it definitely did not receive the attention it deserves. It's a really fun mermaid/arranged marriage au! ~ @leahlisabeth

More Than This Provincial Wife

by ApprenticedMagician (T, 6k, wangxian)

Summary:  The negotiations surrounding the Lan & Jiang alliance through marriage encountered a few snags in the beginning.

~*~

I love your blog! I saw a recent post where you listed some rec's from other people? [Thank you!  And yes, I always appreciate and am happy to share your recs!]  I just read the WIP A Corpse Called By Name jaemyun and LOVED it! It's a zombie apocolypse AU, where Wei Ying gets bitten by a zombie.... and I don't want to spoil anything from there, but it is amazing! No pressure to put it in your blog, but wanted to send a note just in case. Thanks for all you do!

A Corpse Called By Name

by jaemyun (not rated, 37k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary:  A continuation of zombie drabble!

She loses her brother in a hoard of the undead.

She finds a corpse wearing his face in a convenience store.

The corpse calls her name.

~*~

Hi! I was wondering if I could rec this short fic that I recently found and really liked! The narrative is an inner monologue and I think it captures lwj really well :)

binding me in spells (till my heart's devoured)

by gaysgaysgays (G, <1k, wangxian)

Summary:  His scars are a reminder of his hurt, a reminder that he had healed.

(or a study of lan zhan's scars)

~*~

I found a fic I had recently asked you about, so I thought I'd share it with you: Seasons of Falling Flowers by merakily (http://archiveofourown.org/works/28522326). I rediscovered it completely by accident after listening to spinifex's excellent podfic adaptation. This is the fic where Lan Qiren despises Wei Wuxian until Wei Wuxian catches a cold and Lan Qiren find out about his golden core. That part is about 3/4 of the way through. The fic is wonderful and shows a rigid but surprisingly introspective Lan Qiren. ~ @clmoryel [Oh!  I just read this one yesterday!  Here’s my bookmark.]

Seasons of Falling Flowers

by merakily (G, 40k, wangxian, lan qiren & wei wuxian, podfic)

Summary:  Like a parasite, Wei Wuxian has this way of growing on people when you least expect it.

Over the seasons, Lan Qiren slowly pieces back together his relationship with Wangji and learns to like Wei Wuxian in the process.

(“Will you rejoin your sect?” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Lan Qiren regrets his wording.

He is not surprised when Wangji’s eyes narrow, flashing with offence. “There is no need to rejoin what one has never left. I did not turn my back on my sect. My sect turned their backs on me.”)

~*~

Hi! Can I rec a fic? "bring you home" by Alasse_Irena on AO3 is a modern AU and is one of the most beautiful and atmospheric fics I have read. Thanks for you work running this blog! I have new Wangxian fics to read <3

bring you home

by Alasse_Irena (T, 28k, wangxian)

Summary:  Wei Ying rents a run-down cottage in a small town by the sea, looking for a quiet place to hide after the war.

Lan Zhan has always dreamed of the ocean. He returns to the town where he was born, and where his parents died, to find out why.

Instead, they find each other.

~*~

Good morning lady mojo, I hope you’re having a good day! I wanted to rec a fic, Breathing Firestorm by ladyshadowdrake. It’s 111k and great but barely has any love, which is unfair. You mentioned it in the last ‘in a mood for’ post but I think it should have more of a shoutout because it’s a lot of fun and I liked it a lot. Have a great day ♥️  [Oh!  I was subscribed to this one and saw it had been recently finished.  It’s def. on my list!]

Breathing Firestorm

by ladyshadowdrake (M, 111k, wangxian)

Summary:  After years of a mad quest, Wen Ruohan is finally given proof of a powerful creature living among mortals. He is delighted to find that it truly believes itself to be only a boy named “Wei Wuxian.”

While Wen Ruohan tries to unlock Wei Wuxian’s secret, the sects unite against him. If he can achieve his goal before they arrive, even the combined might of the cultivation world would not be enough to humble him. Meanwhile, Lan Wangji dreams of Wei Wuxian in the Cold Pond Cave, and works tirelessly to rescue him from Wen Ruohan’s clutches. No one is prepared for what awaits the allied sects in Nightless City at the conclusion of the war, and it very well might mean the end of the world as they know it.

~*~

Hi Mojo, firstly thank you for all the hard work you put into running this blog, I’ve found so many fics that I probably would have never come across if it wasn’t for your fic finders posts and your personal review posts.  [Aw, thank you!]

I don’t know if you’ve read this fic before or if it’s been mentioned before on your blog (I’ve done a quick search of your blog and couldn’t see it, so if I’ve missed it I apologise!) but if you’ve got a fic rec post coming up, I would suggest “The shapes a bright container can contain” by litbynosun.

It’s a case fic about 16k words long and set after canon. Whilst it’s not the main focus of the story it does delve slightly into chronic illness of wwx (the ailments of mxy’s body) and lwj (his continuous treatment of his scars) which might cover a few requests in the IITMF posts in future.

Thanks again for all the hard work you do! ~ @dulachodladh

the shapes a bright container can contain

by litbynosun

M, 17k, wangxian

Summary:  "Lan Zhan, look at this," Wei Wuxian calls. "They don't have organs, but they're all… fuzzy."

He gently strokes the corpse's arm -- it's covered in soft, pigmentless downy hair, like a rabbit. Lan Wangji crouches next to him and nods. "Lanugo," he says. Wei Wuxian raises one eyebrow. "They were malnourished for quite a while before death," Lan Wangji elaborates. Wei Wuxian scans the bodies again. Indeed, they both have sunken cheeks, and their abdomens are empty of both organs and fat padding. “That’s a question,” he says. “Did they starve to death, and have their bodies desecrated after they were already deceased? Or were they murdered, and simply starving at the same time?” "We should stay," Lan Wangji tells him. This is not an answer to his question. It is an offer to search for answers.

Or: Wei Wuxian and his family solve a ghost haunting. Wei Wuxain's old enemy, societal injustice, rears its head again.

#follower rec #wangxian fic rec #I HAVEN'T READ THESE YET #wangxian #mdzs

[drippingmoon]

9, 18, 21

Hello! Thanks for the ask:) Putting most of it under a cut because it got a bit too long and, uh, sappy

9. What’s a series or franchise you secretly or not so secretly think you’d be, like, a REALLY good writers for if they’d stop being cowards and hire you already?

Fact 1: I'd suck as a tv writer lol

If I can't meander for years, get lost in my characters' thoughts and generally have unlimited freedom over how long scenes last, then it's not in my comfort zone and no thanks. It's for the same reason I've never done prompts. I get antsy if I have conditions

Fact 2: I actually haven't watched a series in so long, I'm out of loop and most of my fav shows are finished. On the other hand, goddammit, I would've signed up if Merlin were still ongoing because I have a lot of pent thoughts and feelings on it and would've loved if they'd patched it up a little

18. Tell us about a character who’s very different than you who you love a whole lot

I'll take this opportunity to gush over Anne some more, thanks🤣 tho Malchior was a close second. Funny, since they're also two characters in whose heads I spend most of my writing time.

Anne... she's someone who's on the brink, I can't say of what, and who always has these liminal thoughts that make her stop before an action, and. It's fascinating to see how she chooses to react, like rolling dice on her neutrality. And most of the time I don't know why she chooses what she does, until afterwards. And then it makes perfect sense.

But that's for writing. Personally, I love how much of a wild card she is. If I throw her in the middle of the story every plot beat gets shaken up🤣 tho her one constant would be her devotion to the things she loves. That was a surprise to me the first time around, because she very much exists out of herself, she's forgotten how to get a sense of what she really feels. She mostly relies on memory for that.

You probably wouldn't get that feeling most of the time since she's crisp in her reactions, but. There are some scenes when it hits her over the head, and just let me start screaming internally because I've never been as excited to write a scene than those before.

In short, for many other reasons I haven't listed here, she owns my whole heart (and the story sigh. That wasn't negotiated)

21. BIG ask: what do you think is the most important component of a good story?

Emotion. Also known as my one and only bane, as for the longest time I didn't know how they function and why they function. Since then it's become pretty clear to me that what you feel while writing can vastly differ from the reader's emotion, but it's still pretty baffling.

Yeah, emotion always remains with me after reading something, and that's what I'll remember. And it's also the hardest to grasp in writing, if you ask me

I'm also not a fan of the term 'good story', because... some will say characters, some will say plot. But there are days when I'm not in the mindset to read, and not even the best crafted stories will catch my interest. And I'll see them months later and think, read them and fall in love with them and remember everything from the page because it meant so much, and why was I an idiot back then, what was I thinking?

Also, you can sometimes not particularly like any of the characters or the plot, but the overall setting and the tone it gives can be perfect. I've fallen in love with some organ scenes before, and they were pretty poignant so I knew I'd be seeing them again, and it saved the book for me. I kept reading just to reach those scenes again, and feel what they've made me feel, because it was something unique to them

#ask and answer #thanks for the ask!! #and sorry for the unedited word vomit haha #had my blood taken this morning and #since last time when they try to collect from my left arm it just flows very slowly and they have to switch to the right #and then it throbs for some hours after #idk why this started happening but if anyone has any solution i'd be more than happy to listen #but anyway next time i'll just have them start with my right one directly

[venusdeus]

Court of Kings - Chapter 1

Summary: Sent to a neighboring kingdom to secure an alliance, forced to give up your dreams and ambitions, disregarded as a means to an end. You however have no desire to fulfil their wishes. And neither does Oikawa.

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x female reader

Genre: Fluff, comedy, angst, royalty au, arranged marriage au, enemies to lovers au (more like enemies to allies to friends to lovers), eventual smut?

Word count: 2700+

Warnings: All the characters are adults unless specified. This chapter is sfw. Minors do not interact.

Notes: Part 1 of a long series I’m planning to write. This is my first fic in this blog so I would greatly appreciate comments, follows and feedback!

Read Prologue first <...> Chapter 2

August 5th

The first messengers arrived when you were having afternoon tea with your literature instructor in the gardens of your summer residence, as your brother was practicing his sword skills not too far. A maid sent by your mother brought you the news of their negotiation a few hours later, accompanied by some of the strawberry macarons you loved so much.  

If it were up to you, you would refuse such a ridiculous offer even before it was brought to your attention. Now that they had a male heir to the throne however, there was no use of a girl that had no claim to become the future ruler, other than being sent to create diplomatic relations now that you were over twenty summers.

“Where do you think they are from?” your brother asked as he tried to dust off his clothes, quite tired from following the orders of his practice partner all day long.

“I wouldn’t know, I didn’t see any flags with them.” you continued as he looked disappointed “But they were wearing blue, so at least we know it's not from the south.”

He nodded; his eyes wide with worry “I am glad they are not sending you there.”

“No one is sending me anywhere yet Hiro.” you answered quite annoyed, turning your head sharply to glare at the boy.

It was not his fault per see but him being recognized as the heir has left you in an awkward situation for the past twelve years. You loved your brother dearly, unlike the distant relationship you had with your parents. It was not because you had the ambition to rule the kingdom either. Of course, it was unfair as you were the firstborn, and if not for what was between your legs, you would also have been the one to inherit the crown.

Even if that was so, you simply did not find it in yourself to become a leader. You, however, did wish to be able to shape your own future. One that did not involve fulfilling the selfish wishes of others.

“It would be awfully lonely without you.” he sighed, instantly making you feel guilty for sounding a little bit too harsh.

Hiro looked incredibly small for his age, standing there with his shoulders slouched, fingers flicking, a skinny and sickly kid since the day he was born. He took after your father with his dark hair and almost pitch-black eyes, but with your mother's facial features, a contrast to your own looks that bore no resemblance to any of them, another reason for your alienation from the rest of the family.

“And it would be awfully quiet without you.” you teased “Maybe then I would be able to read in peace.”

Several footsteps coming behind you silenced you both before Hiro could retort, cutting the joyful air and replacing it with a heavy feeling.

Your mother was a beautiful woman that much was true, but in a different way to that of her kids. The Queen had extremely sharp features and her painted lips always supported a displeased frown. She acted as her title suggested, prim and proper, she fit her role perfectly.

Renowned for her charm when she was younger, she did not lose much to the ages if not for the wrinkles next to her keen eyes and the white threads on her hair. Likewise, she was as smart as she was alluring. Coming from a family that lost their wealth a long time ago even though they still supported titles, no one would even dream of her being second to the sole ruler of their beloved country. She was a success-driven woman, which made her a threat in the eyes of many in the court, thus she was not given the right to make a decision when it came to the education of the heirs she produced. Although affectionate towards her kids first, she had no say on the time she had with them, causing their family ties to weaken, and mostly spent her time with foreign ambassadors. A responsibility entrusted upon her by her husband.

“I see you received my message.” she declared not looking at you directly “We will talk more about this after our guests leave. For now, I want both of you to go to your rooms and stay there until dinner.”

You could sense the irritation in her voice. It was not for her kids, however, as you could see the dark circles under her eyes, a sign of her losing sleep for the past few days.

“Won’t we meet our guests?” Hiro questioned before you could.

“It is not needed as they are only messengers.” the Queen answered shortly before continuing her walk towards the main hall, her maids trailing behind. “I will see you two in an hour.”

Leaving your brother behind, you decided to head down towards the observatory. You knew that you would get an earful from your maids later for not changing your garments for the dinner, but your head was filled with too many questions and negative possibilities to care about dresses. It was not as if you did not know that this day would come. It even took longer than expected if all things considered. Most in your position would be engaged before they even stopped using diapers. It was a more political alliance than anything else, decided by the respective kingdoms and the advisors.

You even saw the letters that were exchanged since last year with multiple seals supporting different coat of arms. The council of your father must have declined the offers before this. Not for your sake, at least you didn’t think it was, but for not suiting their taste. It was a big deal for the princess of a country, whether being the heir or not, to marry someone as it reassured the ties you would create.

The only positive thing that happened so far was the fact that you would not be sent to the south. The Southern Kingdom was placed across the sea and was an important trade partner to your own.

It was a wealthy country for sure, but also too grim and the people too wild. Other than the traded goods it wasn’t a traveller-friendly country. They kept to themselves and even though the only thing that separated the two port kingdoms was a narrow sea, they had a vastly different culture. These differences resulted in legends and the rumors about the country becoming more and more outrageous over time.

They called their men barbaric, only interested in hunt and the art of war. Their women proclaimed witches, quite beautiful unlike the stereotype, but worshippers of a different God. All just foolish rumors said your history instructor. He was a wise man that travelled a lot when he was younger and according to him these tales were nonsense. Their folk did not originate there but immigrated over a few centuries ago. He taught you that the people of the Southern Kingdom were that of culture and arts. They just did not like intruders. His words didn’t ease your or Hiro’s heart however as you were fed these tales since you were younger.

If you could find a way to escape from this responsibility you would. Yet, since the first time you sensed what was going on you were looking for an answer, just to be disappointed every time.

The dinner was cold and tasteless even though it was made from the best ingredients one could manage to find. “The lady that makes them must hate her occupation with a passion” claimed your brother when you were dismissed “I can’t understand how mother likes it.”

Once again, the King did not join you at the table. It was always the same excuse, politics, responsibilities. But you knew better. You knew why your parents did not share a bed anymore and you could see the looks women of the court gave to your father. It was not because the King was a good-looking man, quite the opposite in fact, but power attracted people.

You were fully grown now and even when you were younger, you knew what these actions indicated. You even had the most unfortunate memory of seeing one of them, who was not much older than you, leaving your father's chamber looking quite flushed. You would have not cared if only the woman did not give you a curtsy while supporting a smirk.

Lady Winna was her real name, daughter of a lord that was close to the King, nicknamed Lady Whore by you. And most of the time, she was the reason your father would skip the meals altogether only to receive a feast in his room later that night. Which was why you knew that you should never hope for a love match. If lucky you could maybe be friends with your future partner.

“She does not hate her job, she hates her life” you replied “Not that it would matter, she will leave soon. I heard she was pregnant with a lord’s child. A married one on top of that.”

Hiro gasped “What if someone were to hear you talking about these rumors” he exclaimed hitting your arm quite forcefully “you could be punished.”

“Don’t act as if you never say such stuff you little bridge troll. I know how you talk behind your instructors.” you mused rubbing the pain off. “And who will punish a princess I ask you? If not for mother or father?”

“Do I need to know what I should punish you for?”

Both you and Hiro jumped at the unexpected voice of the Queen, a gasp leaving your mouths. She was holding a box in her hand and her face was supporting a rare, serene expression.

“Nothing of importance.” replied Hiro quickly “We were just afraid of falling behind our studies.”

The Queen did not seem convinced as her eyes narrowed, but she had a small genuine smile on. “I see. Why don’t you go on ahead and start your nightly studies then? I need to talk to your sister privately in the meantime.”

Hiro let out a snort that he tried to cover with a cough. You are in trouble he mouthed before bowing to your mother and disappearing through the corridor.

“I would like you to know I was just repeating what the ladies in the court were saying. Not that I believe the rumors of course, it is quite indecent.” you tried to explain quickly but the Queen cut you with a shake of her head.

“That is not why I wanted to talk to you dear. It is however quite incident for a lady to talk that way you are right.” she sighed “Why don’t we talk in my study?”

You knew what was coming now, after all you could not remember the last time you had a conversation with your mother alone, the relaxed expression on her face, however, gave you hope. Maybe, you thought, they decided it was not time yet. Or maybe they did not like the offers that came through.

“Close the door, will you?” she asked walking towards the desk that stood before the bookshelves that covered the walls.

“Where are your attendants?” you questioned as you followed her inside “Is there something wrong?”

“I thought you would be more comfortable if it were just the two of us that’s all. I need to show you something.” She answered motioning towards the box she was holding. “It came this morning. For you of course. Go on, open it.”

The box itself was made from heavy oak, painted black with a family crest carved on top of it. The symbol looked familiar enough, but you could not concentrate enough to remember where you knew it from over the heavy beating of your heart. Opening it cautiously you took a sharp breath between your teeth, observing the contents.

Inside stood a tiara that was made from white gems shaped in intricate designs that you have not encountered before and in the middle stood an icy blue diamond so big that you could have sworn it must have cost the yearly earnings of a whole country.

“Not a ring.” You stated matter of factly “A very bold choice for a gift.”

“Indeed. But you cannot expect less from Seijoh.” Your mother replied with a cautious voice, almost as if she was calculating your reaction.

“Seijoh…” the box cluttered on the table as you let go of it abruptly “You are sending me up north? We waged war against them for years! Even before my grandfather! And now you are sending me there?”

You knew the country itself was wealthy enough and that it had a strong military presence. They had many allies within the countries that bordered yours as well.  But they also claimed right on your countries throne by sighting territorial dispute as well as a marriage between the two countries that produced no heir.

Now they were sending you there as a scapegoat. To secure his claim to the throne. And maybe even to theirs. An eye for an eye.

It took another week for your father to send a response and invite the Crown Prince and the King of Seijoh for a short visit before the decision was finalized and another two for them to arrive on the outskirts of your kingdom with their entourage behind.

As you sat in your suite biting your nails and waiting for their arrival, your maids were going in and out with different dresses in their hands looking for your approval. You on the other hand did not have the mental energy to entertain their ideas. It was bad enough that you had to attend a ball given in their honor that very evening, but you also had to be in the throne room soon enough to welcome them into the castle. Not to mention this would be the first time that you were to meet your possible future husband.

You heard of him before of course. How could you not when his reputation preceded him? A very cunning and ambitious young man, yet it was his looks that brought the most gossip. You heard his name whispered among the staff when they did not know you were listening and heard the ladies giggle when they mentioned the time that they spent in their court, with him.

It was enough to leave a sour taste in your mouth. Was it too much to ask that your future partner was a man of intelligence and few words? At least you would know that you could get along with him then. But a sharp and striking Casanova? They had to be jesting. That was the only possible explanation for this mockery.

As if your fathers’ ridiculous behaviors wasn’t enough now you had to entertain another man like him. It was pretty common for monarchs to take on other lovers, but you would not be embarrassed by a man you did not know in your own house, husband or not.

When you finally entered the throne room you could hear the commotion outside caused by non-other than the infamous man that was plaguing your thoughts for the past week. Your mother motioned you to hurry and take your place with a sudden turn of her chin just before the doors opened.

The rumors did not do him justice you thought as he strutted towards you and your family, your breath caught in your throat.

Oikawa Tooru was without a doubt the most beautiful man you ever laid eyes on.

He was beautiful alright.

And with his charming eyes staring straight at your own and his delicate hands placed on his sword, he looked ready to murder.

It might look like a filler episode, but I needed to give background and I love to build anticipation. Sorry not sorry? Reblogs are appreciated! And also this was not edited I posted it right after writing it so if you see any mistake let me know.

Disclaimer:  No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without permission. I do not own the character of Oikawa Tooru. This is a work of fiction.

TAG LIST: Let me know if you want me to tag you.

@triskoof​ @sassyglassesbunny​ @m-a-r-i-a-s-b-l-o-g

#hqhangoutnet #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x y/n #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa series #oikawa scenarios #oikawa fluff #oikawa angst #oikawa #haikyuu!! #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu oneshot #oikawa oneshot #haikyuu angst #oikawa toru headcanons #hq smut #hq x reader #sfw #hq x y/n #hq x you #oikawa tooru #oikawa torū #oikawa toru fluff

[linklethehistorian]

Randou and the Sins of Season 3's Fifteen Adaption (Part 18/???)

Episode 28 — Only a Diamond Can Polish a Diamond (2/5)

If there is any nitpicking at all to be done about this segment, I suppose it could be that a bit of nuance was lost on the topic of a certain boy’s heartless and sadistic attitude towards the redhead, but contrary to popular belief, that boy is actually not Dazai, for once; it is Shirase, and, by extension, the gang of which he is a part.

I know many people in this fandom are probably going to be extremely irked by that statement, considering just how strongly some of them tend to stand by and cling to this greatly perpetuated myth that Dazai really had Sheep killed in the book instead of sparing them, but really, before you criticize me for failing to acknowledge what you may perceive to be the gospel truth, at least hear me out, and truly take a moment to consider what I am about to say; yes, what I had to say on this matter would once have only been based on speculation due to the wording of Lea’s post and my interpretation of it, but this is no longer the case.

I realize that this apparently may not be immediately obvious to everyone just from reading that one post as it had always been to me,  but as someone who has finally read the full tale myself, I will tell you right now that the only people who would stand by and further spread that “Sheep were killed” narrative are the ones who have never genuinely laid eyes upon it themselves, because the wording and context were pretty much exactly the same between both renditions; there was absolutely no ambiguity involved whatsoever as to their fates or Dazai’s actions regarding them, and if you have any doubts at all, I invite you to simply take a look for yourself and see:

Believe me, if it isn’t already intensely obvious from the very fact that this article exists, I have no intentions nor desire to cover for any of the terrible, ridiculous changes Bones has made in this adaption, or the mischaracterizations that spring out of them, but even if it’s true that there are many, many examples of that here and many of them at least half-center around Dazai, this is really and truly not one of them, and no matter how much I may resent their other choices concerning Fifteen, I’m not just going to sit here and nod in agreement while they are accused of the one thing they actually did not do. I am not here to dig their grave without any care for if the methods I use and the grievances I have are legitimate; I am simply here to tell the truth and spread awareness of that truth to the best of my ability.

Dazai honestly did spare the Sheep, and he had always planned to, long before he had ever put the illusion of choice in Chuuya’s hands — not because he was kind-hearted by any means or cared at all about their lives, but because, as is typical of him, he had already foreseen and predicted the decision that Chuuya was going to make. Now, sure, if Chuuya had somehow called Dazai’s apparent ‘bluff’ and recklessly betrayed that prediction, I’m sure that Dazai absolutely would have changed his orders and had them all annihilated, but that obviously never came to pass, and, in spite of what a lot of people seem to think, Dazai had nothing to gain in committing that sort of needless cruelty under those specific circumstances.

Yes, as I’ll further explain at a later point, it’s certainly true that the bandaged brunet does enjoy tormenting people simply for the sake of watching their reactions — I won’t argue with you there at all; however, he is not so recklessly bloodthirsty as to put himself at a severe disadvantage purely to provide himself with a very, very temporary, momentary amusement, and that’s exactly what he would have been doing if he had killed Sheep despite Chuuya taking his bait in order to save them. If Dazai had made such a deal with the redhead only to immediately fail to hold up his end after the terms were mutually agreed upon, Chuuya would no longer have any incentive to honor his side of the obligations, either, and regardless of how detached and merciless the bandaged teen may be, that is absolutely not something he would want — no matter how much he may like the idea of torturing and emotionally devastating his peer.

So long as it benefits him to do so, in these types of negotiations, Dazai always holds up his end of a negotiation, which is something that he has even said directly to this very same individual during the first arc of the main series — a statement which his by then ex-partner didn’t protest at all, because he knew it was true.

Overall, this scene was astoundingly well adapted — not just when compared to the rest of this mini-arc, but all on its own merits apart from it, as well, and I could not think of any major way in which it could have truly been improved.

Undoubtedly, as I’d begun to say earlier, even though it may have played out relatively the same, Shirase’s betrayal — and, by extension, the betrayal of Chuuya by Sheep as a whole — was presented in rather vastly different lights between the two versions in certain ways, partly due to simplification in dialogue, but also in some of the ways he and the other members of the organization were represented and portrayed visually, as well.

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#linklethehistorian #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd spoilers #spoilers #bsd season 3 #bsd novels #fifteen #Arthur Rimbaud #bsd arthur rimbaud #Randou #justiceforrandou2k19 #justiceforrandou2k20 #justiceforrandou2k21 #fifteen article #Randou and the Sins of Season 3’s Fifteen Adaption #writing #My writing #my thoughts #Episode 28 — Only a Diamond Can Polish a Diamond #Shirase the Sheep’s Betrayal of Chuuya and Dazai’s Deal

[kyndaris]

2020: Unprecedented Times

Most people, at the start of the year, had high hopes for 2020. For many, it was the start of a new decade (though, ask anyone on the street and the start of a decade is open to debate). Here in Australia, the start of 2020 merely carried on the disasters of 2019. Beset by bushfires all along the Eastern coast, we watched as our tourism numbers slump as the denizens of Sydney wore masks as a means to fight the harmful effects of smoke inhalation. Many small businesses, particularly in small towns, felt the brunt of the natural disaster. Homes were destroyed by the thousands. Worse was the fact that livelihoods that were dependent on visitors from all around the world (in particular, China) were also badly affected.

Why would anyone come to Australia, after all, when there was smoke in the air and the air quality was teetering on dangerously toxic?

Many hoped that once the fires had petered out, however, life would return to normal. Little did they know that by March, the world would be caught in the grips of COVID-19. After all, though there were the occasional news headlines of a new disease plaguing China in early January (which resulted in me warning my grandmother that maybe she not go over to celebrate the Year of the Rat), most people were focused on Donald Trump’s impeachment.

Then, of course, there was the assassination of an infamous Iranian general:  Qasem Soleimani. Once again, the world’s attention was arrested by the acts of the United States of America. Most were worried that the tension between Iran and the United States of America would boil over. At the time, it almost felt like a repeat of Trump’s antagonism towards North Korea.

In the United Kingdom, Brexit was well underway. After his re-election in December 2019, Boris Johnson continued his negotiations for a way that Britain could leave the European Union.

On a more personal scale, Australia was wracked by sport club funding scandals and climate change protests.

As for me, I was more concerned about the video game delays. Now that I write this, in December of 2020, I look back and think that perhaps it was appropriate for Cyberpunk 2077 to have been delayed until next year in order to fix the bugs that have the plagued the title ever since launch. Still, I was also vastly disappointed that Vampires the Masquerade II would not be releasing anytime soon. And saddened to hear that The Last of Us Part II had been pushed back.

After COVID-19 swept across the globe and taken hold in most countries and continents (which now extends to Antarctica thanks to a few Chileans testing positive), I watched as stupidity rose to the fore. Lockdown protests, the politicisation of the wearing of masks and the attacks on East Asians. Despite the severity of the virus and how infectious it was, I was disheartened to see so many people flout social distancing rules and break lockdown requirements. Most notably among the rich and famous such as politicians and NRL (National Rugby League) players.

Of course, being in Australia, our bid to ‘flatten the curve’ proved incredibly effective. Articles I’ve read indicate that this was mostly due to Australian’s observance of laws and regulations, as well as our trust in science. In fact, I’ve heard the refrain, ‘at least we’re not America’ spoken quite a few times this year. And honestly, after looking at the statistics, with the Land of the Free having upwards of 18.5 million cases with 326,000 (and counting) deaths, I couldn't agree more to the sentiment.

The whole ‘do as we say, not as we do’ approach by its President further served to fracture society and gave rise to conspiracy theories that served no purpose but showcase the height of people’s ignorance and distrust. It didn’t help that most Western countries also placed more importance on the ‘economy’ than people’s lives. Many global leaders were of the opinion that the ‘cure should not be worse than the disease’ and that a few deaths to keep the budget afloat was a necessary evil. 

Well, to that, I say, ‘Bah! Humbug!’ Without acting decisively and quickly, many nations have ruined their economy AND seen their people die in droves. When people are falling sick and suffering from long-term effects, they’re hardly likely to spend money. Nor will they be able to contribute to society and be able to continue working. Instead, you’ll be saddled with additional welfare taxes. By going hard and fast, closing down the economy for two months, maybe three, you can bounce back harder and stronger without fear of contagion.

Now, many countries are struggling with high numbers of new infected each day AND an economy that’s in tatters. Good job. 

It also doesn’t hurt to give back to the community and help struggling businesses. Schemes such as Jobkeeper and Jobseeker (at least in Australia) were able to alleviate some of the stress for many workers. And honestly, perhaps if the world had implemented a universal basic income, this would also enable people ensure their basic needs are met without sinking into poverty.

The fact that so many only see the short-term rather than long-term is astounding. And as for Sweden’s model? The less said about it, the better. ‘Herd immunity’ without a working vaccine? Madness. Utter madness. Particularly when the virus is airborne.

After enjoying a decent summer, numbers rose again in Europe and much of it was back under lockdown. A new strain, that has proven much more infectious, was discovered in the South of England! Trump tested positive for COVID-19, but to the dismay of many, he recovered quite quickly.

But 2020 did not end there. Once again, the struggles between ethnic minorities were brought again to the limelight. The death of George Floyd saw the rise of the Black Lives Matter movement and served to highlight the disproportionate number of those living in poverty and in prison. As a person of colour myself (being of East Asian descent), I tried to explain some of this to my colleagues. But some of them saw Black Lives Matter as a predominantly American issue - and disregarded the fact that many Indigenous Australians were also in prison, caught in a vicious cycle of crime and violence.

It wasn’t long, however, that Australia experienced its own second wave in Melbourne, due to breaches in hotel quarantine. And honestly, it came as a surprise when it also happened in Adelaide and we learned that they weren’t testing hospital workers or those in high-risk workplaces on a REGULAR basis. You would have thought that all workers that transported aircrew or worked as security for those quarantining in hotels would be temperature-checked and given a swab every few days (or at least once a week). But no.

This is why we can’t have good things. 

Christmas in Sydney has also been somewhat neutered by the fact that there has been another sizeable outbreak in the Northern Beaches local council. And, of course, many people in Greater Sydney have been barred from other states. Gotta love those hard state borders where we treat each other as separate countries. Still - if it protects the people, the Premiers will stop at nothing. Even if it means families can’t be together. But better that than seeing Australia become the United States of America. 

Jumping from COVID-19, 2020 also saw an explosion in Beirut due to the storing of large amounts of ammonium nitrate at the port. Approximately 178 people were killed and more than 6,500 were injured. Locust swarms in Africa  descended upon crops, threatening food supply and livelihoods for millions of people. The West Coast of the United States of America suffered from catastrophic wildfires. Meanwhile, in south-east Asia, countries were hit by flooding and typhoons. As a side note, Armenia and Azerbaijan  restarted their ongoing feud. 

And to cap it all off, 2020 decided to further traumatise the future generation, a suicide video was uploaded to Tiktok. 

And oh, the US election. Where our favourite President tried to delay and impede mail-in-votes. In the days following the 3 November 2020 election, the world eagerly watched as the votes were counted and each state was certified. Trump, as is always his way, attempted to claim victory in the early hours of the morning of 4 November 2020, before deriding voter fraud with no evidence to substantiate his claims.

The weeks that followed saw a number of lawsuits that were lodged. Most, of which, were simply dismissed out of hand. And while his supporters have continued to claim that fraud was evident in the 2020 election, there has been no substantial pieces of evidence provided. Affidavits and hearsay, fortunately, do not a case make.

In Australia, our once promising relationship with China took a turn for the worse. While instances of racism, after the initial COVID-19, did not help, it also seemed that the finger pointing among government officials and demands for inquiries into wet markets only served to fuel the fire between the two nations. After initiating a trade war with the United States of America, China then saw fit to put significant tariffs on Australian beef, barley, wine and coal (to name but a few). 

The spat between Australia and China also took on a more insidious tone when several Australian journalists were forced to flee.

And with the unveiling of alleged war crimes committed by Australian troops in Afghanistan, the relationship between the two nations have come to an all-time low. China’s tweet of a doctored image that had an Australian soldier about to cut the throat of an Afghan child saw our Prime Minister taking to social media to demand an apology. 

All in all, 2020 has felt like both an incredibly short and long year in equal measure. For an introvert, such as myself, it’s been mostly the same. In fact, I can’t believe that it’s already at an end. Though my gaming has continued, as has my writing, I felt like I hardly interacted with any of my friends or did anything conducive to my social skills. While I’ve been made permanent at my place of work, it’s also felt a little stagnant. For a good long while, particularly in March, it felt like we were on the cusp of something huge and terrible. As the numbers climbed, I desperately wanted a hard lockdown to be called when leaders vacillated. 

2021 does not promise to be much better. While vaccines have rolled out in several countries, it’ll be a long time coming before the world manages to attain a sense of normalcy. For this blogger, I look forward to just kicking back and finally getting my hands on a PlayStation 5.

As for anyone that has worked on the front lines during this pandemic, I just want to say a big hearty ‘thank you.’ All of  you have sacrificed so much and seen so many terrible things. I wish that we all listened to your warnings instead of inundating emergency rooms thinking COVID-19 was a hoax.

Remember: keep at least 1.5 metres away from another person, wash/ sanitise your hands regularly and wear a mask if you can’t socially distance or are in an enclosed space. 

#personal blog #2020 year in review

[behind-the-hood]

The Beast

-Part three of The Bet-

Jokaste had moved on to Kastor while he was gone, but that was fine, because Damen had moved on as well. What wasn't fine was that while Damen was in Vere making allies and friends, Kastor had their father's ear. Seeding thoughts of war within his mind.

War.

Laurent scoffs. Because of course there would be war.

At least he'd wrapped Damianos around his finger before the man left. He could work this to his advantage. If he beat his father and brother to the Akielon camp.

He wasn't exactly given a fair notice. He was in Acquitart while Auguste had only sent the letter his way when they reached Delfeur's border.

Evidently, the Akielons were already lying in wait for their arrival.

Damen turns and stares when the flap to his tent opens without his permission.

Laurent.

Laurent has a frown on his full lips, a pucker to his elegant brows. Damen would give anything to be able to touch and smooth away his worry.

"You didn't tell me you were planning to claim my country. But I'm sure it slipped your mind seeing as you were busy claiming me."

Damen could not meet his eyes then. He did not plan this; he doesn't want any part of this. But Laurent would poke a hole in any statement he made, or he'd simply lash insults to Damen's flesh instead. Damen doesn't want that either.

Damen, through great effort, holds his tongue.

Laurent walks up to Damianos when it appears he's being ignored, and tilts the man's head up with a delicate finger. His voice is low, intimate between them.

"Do you have nothing to say in your defense? I thought you a better man than that Damianos."

Laurent lets his finger slip away, but Damianos catches his wrist. Damianos meets his eyes then.

"This is not my doing."

Laurent hums, considering. Damen has never been more worried of such an innocent sound.

"I suppose...No." Laurent cuts himself off. He gives a gentle tug of his hand and Damianos releases him.

He knows a sure way to end a war before it begins, but he isn't sure he wants to be Damianos' prince consort to see it through.

Laurent has all the power he needs through conquering men in the bedroom and having Auguste's ear; he gains nothing from ruling a country but restrictions and duties.

Laurent is content with his life, and will be content as an advisor to the crown and an ambassador to Vask.

But Vere is vastly unprepared for war with Akielos.

He may have no country at all if this is not brought to a halt.

Damen watches Laurent, waits for him to continue, elaborate, but he does not.

"I will do what I can at the negotiations. You and Auguste are my friends. I would not see you on the battlefield."

Laurent smirks. "Friends. Is that what we are?"

Laurent sits to their father's left and Auguste sits to the right. Laurent is across from Damianos. Kastor from Auguste.

Laurent is the sole man in the tent not decked out in armor. Should they decide on battle, Laurent will promptly be led away and kept safe should the king and crown prince fall. An heir must always be available.

Damianos hasn't said a word despite his promise to speak up on compromise, but his brow is pinched in a way that tells Laurent Theomedes likely expressed he be silent lest there be consequences later.

Aleron, for his part, isn't looking to compromise.

Auguste speaks here and there, a whisper to their father's ear, a note scrawled and passed to Laurent.

Laurent does not like what he reads this time. A fair warning.

"You can have Laurent."

Laurent's eyes would burn the paper he's glaring for the fire in his eyes. Damen worries for Auguste's health.

"Marriage. To Damianos."

Theomedes glares at Auguste, but that is the set in his face when he is thinking. It could mean anything.

Damen speaks up. "If I may?"

Theomedes looks his way, a glance to Laurent, then nods.

"I would not have the unwilling. And Laurent has made clear he is unwilling."

Laurent doesn't say a word. He knew Damianos was a good man. Well liked and respected by his countrymen. Laurent could be paired off with worse.

That doesn't mean he has to be happy about it.

"Laurent is willing. He has welcomed Damianos into his bed many times."

Laurent hisses at Auguste for that while their father perks up significantly.

Auguste would pay dearly for such a betrayal.

To Damen's credit, he's only been in Laurent's bed once, and for all of about ten minutes.

Aleron wheels on Laurent though, his eyes saying more than his silence. Laurent glares back, defiant. But after a moment, his cheeks flush, and he turns from his father's gaze.

Defeated.

Where Aleron had been looking for a fight before, now he smiles easy. "Damianos can have Laurent."

Auguste is stiff in his seat, has been since he spoke those damning words. Laurent glares at Theomedes then, daring him to take the offer.

After a thoughtful moment, Theomedes shakes his head.

"Damianos is my heir; he cannot make his own with another man." Theomedes quirks his lips. "If you had daughters..." he lets the sentence trail purposefully, then straightens. "But you do not."

Aleron frowns. "Damianos has soiled my son. It is only right he marry him."

Theomedes gives a humorless laugh. "We've all heard the rumors. Your son is as much a whore as mine is."

Damen is offended at the wording and lets it show. Kastor give him a casual raised eyebrow behind their father's back as if to say 'it's true'.

Damen still does not appreciate it.

War is about to be declared. Laurent can see it in the set of Theomedes' shoulders. He's grown tired of talking in circles with Aleron. Auguste has grown desperate.

Aleron taps his finger twice against the table and Auguste stares at it for only a moment before he rises.

Laurent goes with him, a shadow over his face.

Damen doesn't know what's happening, but he's sure it isn't good.

They fight, Laurent hurt and Auguste sorry, but they fight.

"You know why I can't leave you Auguste!" Laurent shouts as Auguste drags him by his wrist through the camp to his guard. "You know what lies within Father's court. The threats on his and Mother's lives. They'll come for you when they finish with them. Father is only doing this because he suspects me."

"I know Laurent. But don't you think a war with the three of us here is awfully convenient? Mother is alone in Arles, and she is sick already. The assassins killing her would be all too easy," Auguste argues. "You must return home. Keep Mother safe. Keep yourself safe."

Auguste comes to a stop at Laurent's horse and helps him mount, Laurent's guard all mounted and waiting by his flanks.

Auguste's face is anguished as he tells Laurent, squeezing his hand, "And pray for our safe return."

Battlecries sing out beyond the campground. Damen and Kastor are kept off the field, held at the back, while their father coordinates with Makedon on where best to strike and how to do it and when.

"Damianos, when the prince gets closer to our side, we are sending you out," Theomedes bellows. He doesn't look up from the war table.

"But Father--"

Theomedes looks up, challenging Damen to say otherwise. "And you will kill him."

Damen chokes on a breath. He's spent the better part of a year and two trips to Vere bonding with Auguste. This is what his efforts and friendship amount to? Killing Auguste on the battlefield?

Why was Kastor seeking war with Vere anyway? What has he to gain from this? Pride? A title? Victories under his belt? Kastor sits hidden at the back, safe from the fight, and seems unworried of the events playing out.

But Damen is still sent out to fight when Auguste grows closer. His heart is not in it.

Years ago, nothing would have made him happier than to charge into battle, against anyone, and show his prowess on the field.

But as he stands face to face with Auguste, swords crossed but hesitating to touch, he knows he cannot do this.

"I do not wish to fight you Auguste."

Auguste has a cut over his brow, pouring blood into his eye. He blinks it away and huffs a breath. He's been fighting since the start and it's beginning to show. "Agreed. But I see few alternatives."

Damen glances over his shoulder at the field, confident Auguste will not pull a devilish move on him while he looks away. "Where is Laurent?"

Auguste drops his stance all together and wipes the blood from his brow with a frown. "He is headed for Arles. Our mother is sick."

Damen drops his stance as well.

Laurent has no such plans of returning home. He's made allies of his own, and he's calling in a few favors. It'll take at least two days, but hopefully he can trust Auguste and his mother to stay alive for that long.

#oh hey look #theres gonna be a fourth part after all #got some plot thickening too #which is great #cause i only started this with the intention of damen having sex with laurent while he was reading #and totally distracting him #btw #if anyone can tell me how to do the keep reading thing #id really appreciate it #damen x laurent #laurianos #lamen #fanfiction #fan fic #fanfic #the bet #hoe laurent #captive prince #capri #cp #bhndthhd

[iris-writes-things]

Loving The Alien chapter 4: Lady Stardust

Read on AO3, FF.net or under the cut!

This fan fiction contains themes of racism and heavily prejudiced characters. If you are sensitive to any of the above, proceed with caution or not at all.

The story takes place in 1954, in a town in New Mexico. Roughly seven years after a mysterious object crashed into the nearby desert, a woman Shiro met that night returns to his diner when he needs it the most. Or will she only drag him into an adventure he never asked for?

Chapter 4 of ? Ongoing 1478 words Romance/historical/science fiction

“Don’t look at me like that, Shiro, I saw it with my own eyes!” Keith shouted as he frantically paced around the narrow space between the booth and one of the other tables. “I saw the color of her skin change, you can’t explain that one away! White hair, sure, you can bleach hair. Pink markings under her eyes, whatever, eyeshadow can do that. But nothing, and I mean nothing on God’s green Earth can change someone’s skin color like that!”

“Look, Keith, I know she’s a little different…” Shiro argued to his younger friend, glancing at Allura who was sitting at the counter, waiting for the intervention to be over. “But I’ve been in love with her ever since she set foot in this place seven years ago. Can’t you just, I don’t know, give her a pass? The benefit of the doubt?”

Keith groaned, his face buried deeply in his hands before he stood back upright to regain his composure and looked at Shiro. “You know, if this was any other girl, I would be doing that right now. But Allura is an--... an--!!”

“Extra terrestrial.” Pidge finished.

“Thank you! Shiro, we don’t know what we’re dealing with here!"

"That's because you haven't let me tell you." Allura said quietly but full of determination, getting up from where she sat and making her way over to the gang, her piercing blue eyes looking straight through Keith.

"Then you'd better start talking." Keith demanded. However, his voice faltered, trembling ever so slightly as she came closer.

Allura was beautiful, of course, but could be just as intimidating if she tried.

“Thank you.” She started. "It all happened eight years ago."

The Royal palace of Altea, 9.146, eight years ago.

Princess Allura let out a deep sigh as she glared into the mirror. She was modeling a dress for herself that she was meant to wear to an event that was being held at the palace later that night. It was a nice dress, sure, made of high-quality silk in her favorite blues. Expertly made, too. But it wasn't entirely what she was hoping to wear to her intergalactic diplomatic debut.

She was going to mediate between two rivaling factions that had more or less the same end goal, but utilized vastly different methods in order to get there and became extremely hostile when one came too close to the other.

It was a tangled mess that was rooted much more deeply than it needed to be, like so many skirmishes in the vastness of the known universe. People with affinity and talent for untangling these messes, such as princess Allura, were sought after throughout the entire universe.

And, you know, first impressions mattered.

She brushed her hair for the umpteenth time that day as she mulled over and anticipated anything and everything that could be said at the negotiation tables and every possible outcome to every possible thing she could say. Ninety percent of them weren’t pretty.

And it was frightening to be put on such a complicated case as your very first venture into diplomacy. However, it wasn’t as frightening as her guards kicking down the door of her bedroom. The princess barely managed not to shriek when her usual guard grabbed her wrist and guided her away from her room and to the hangars.

“What is going on? Where are you taking me?” Allura demanded.

“The factions you were to negotiate with changed their minds and are attacking Altea.” The guard said, not stopping the relatively short journey to the hangars for a second. She tried to be all-business, but the concern in her heart bled through to her voice. “With two intergalactic empires fighting us from both sides… We don’t know how much longer we can hold them off. We’re sending you away for your own safety.”

“What?!” The princess exclaimed in disbelief. “Let me talk to them, perhaps I can fix this!”

“Please, trust me when I say everything has already been tried.” The guard said. Her tone had grown more despairing. “This doesn’t have to be permanent, princess. You’re going to a sister planet that has close ties with us, Pollux. When it’s safe for you to return to Altea, you may.”

Allura sighed and resigned to her fate. “Is anyone coming with me?” She asked, but her question was immediately answered when she saw a man sitting in the pod she would supposedly take to Pollux. Coran. Her father’s most trusted friend and advisor.

“Hello, princess. Ready for our little trip?” Coran asked as he helped Allura into the pod. He smiled at her, but she wished he hadn’t. It was full of pain and sorrow.

Hesitantly, she nodded. “Yes. I think so.”

“Alright Coran, let’s go through this one more time.” One of the engineers spoke up. “We turned off all communication devices and under no circumstances are you to turn them on until you reach Pollux. This way we minimize the risk of you being tracked and followed. On the other hand, the navigation system and autopilot are fully operational and we urge you to use them. The battery is fully charged and should get you there in three phoebs, give or take. The back of the pod is filled with enough food to last you that long. Lastly, this is an old model, Coran. I know you know how to fly this, but don’t try to pull any of the stunts you would with a new one.”

“Of course not.” The man said, patting the engineer’s shoulder. “Thank you all for helping us make this escape. We hope we can see you again soon.”

The guard shot Allura a last, sad smile. “Goodbye, princess. Goodbye, Coran.”

“Goodbye.”

“Coran and I left everything we knew and loved behind that night…” Allura whispered, wiping tears from her eyes that she didn’t even realize were there. “My friends, my family, my whole planet… I don’t know if they’re even alive.”

The room was so quiet, one could have heard a pin drop.

Ever since Keith had come back with the news that Allura might not be human, everyone had started to fill in the blanks as to who and what she was, and where she came from, in their own minds. The entire gang had theorized that something like this would probably have happened to her, but they were in strong denial. Because everyone had seen that Allura was a genuinely nice girl, even Keith, and they wouldn’t have wished this upon their worst enemies.

Pidge was the first to lean forward and reach out to place her hand on Allura’s in an act of sympathy, but was interrupted by a loud crash, a projectile passing right by their heads, soon followed by the sound of shouting shouting across the street and a car speeding away as the window next to their booth shattered and came raining down in billions of razor sharp pieces.

Lance shrieked.

“What was that?!”

“Is everyone okay?” Hunk asked as he carefully shook the shards out of his hair.

“I think so.” Pidge mumbled. “And be careful, that stuff gets everywhere.”

Allura still seemed frozen in shock. Not sure what to expect, Shiro carefully reached for her arm, but hesitated to touch her.

“Allura, are you okay?” He asked.

In the blink of an eye, the princess seemed to come back down to Earth.

“I’m… Yes, I’m fine.” She whispered, even though her breath still hitched and her hands still shook.

“I’m so sorry this happened, Allura.” Shiro looked down. “I mean, today of all days… You deserve better than this.”

“It’s alright, Shiro.” She said, wrapping her arms around his waist and laying her head on his shoulder. “You deserve better, too.”

“I’m gonna go to the back to get a broom.” Lance announced. “Anyone coming with?”

“Save me a dustpan. I’ll help you clean.” Keith said.

“Yeah, I’m coming too.” Pidge said, sliding out of the booth, scattering even more shards onto the vinyl floor. “I’ll call my dad, see if he can somehow help motivate the police.”

“I’ll drive over to my dad’s woodshop. Maybe he has some boards we can use to close up this gaping hole.” Hunk said as he got up as well. “Shiro, you wanna tag along?” He asked, only to receive a sharp elbow in the side from Pidge.

“Maybe it’s best to leave them alone for now.” She hissed through gritted teeth.

“Oh, right.” He whispered back.

The conversation wasn’t lost on Shiro, but he nevertheless elected to ignore it for his friends’ sake.

They stood there in silence for a while as the rest of the gang scurried off to do their thing, until a sob heaved Allura’s body.

“I’m sorry, Allura.” He whispered into her hair.

“I’m sorry, Shiro.” She whispered into his shoulder.

#fanfic #Voltron #Voltron legendary defender #shallura #50S AU

[politicalmamaduck]

The Last Shot

A Smuggler Ben Solo/Dark Side Rey arranged marriage fic for @the-reylo-void. Many thanks to @lariren-shadow for her inspiration and betaing, @rapturousaurora for betaing, @cosetteskywalker for the above moodboards, @aionimica for her drawing of Rey in her wedding dress, @roselinathart for her drawing of the wedding, and @lenuca for her chapter moodboards!

Read it on AO3 here, and listen to the playlist here!

Chapter Eighteen: Jakku | Chapter Seventeen: The First Flashback | Chapter Sixteen: The Rendezvous | Chapter Fifteen: Tatooine | Chapter Fourteen: The First Mission | Chapter Thirteen: Goodbye to Naboo | Chapter Twelve: The Wedding Night | Chapter Eleven: The Aftermath | Chapter Ten: The Wedding | Chapter Nine: Naboo | Chapter Eight: The Time in Between | Chapter Seven: The Negotiations | Chapter Six: The Duel | Chapter Five: The Discovery | Chapter Four: The Bargain | Chapter Three: The Bounty | Chapter Two: The Meeting | Chapter One: The Treaty

Niima Outpost seemed to be the only center of civilization for miles. It was that much less civilized now that the main proprietor, a large Crolute, lay dead just outside his stand.

Lightsaber slashes and burns were the tell-tale sign that Rey and her Knights were there.

The Dark Side of the Force impregnated the collapsed structure.

Ben stood back at a distance, neither participating in the slaughter nor interfering. It was not his place to dispute his wife’s form of justice upon the being who caused her so much pain and humiliation. He could not blame her; he only pitied the scavengers who had so little that they sold their souls along with their bodies in hopes of receiving meager portions day after day under the fierce sun.

Rey sighed in relief. Unkar Plutt would never enslave anyone else ever again. She and her sisters just ruined the Jakku economy, but she hoped that between her marriage and the treaty either the First Order or the New Republic would take an interest in the planet. Due to the secrets she knew were hiding in the sands, she vastly preferred the former option, but even the Republic’s pathetic democratic ideals would be an improvement over Plutt’s hardhearted, iron clad control over the black market.  

The Plaintive Hand plateau, in the Valley of the Eremite past the Goazon Badlands’ interminable sands, was their next destination; the Imperial and Rebellion ship remnants and skeletons became much more numerous the farther they headed away from Niima Outpost, indicating they were headed in the correct direction.

Rey always knew there was something hiding in the desert, beyond her capabilities as a mere scavenger to find. She bided her time, asked questions where she could, and snuck data from the First Order’s archives when she was certain she would not be caught. The Empire died and was reborn above Jakku; Rey knew her parents had to be there for a reason.

The location for which they searched was nearly buried in the sand; turrets and cannons remained nearby, also buried and broken. It took both Rey and Falisa’s hand prints to open the ancient looking bunker door; the others had to use the Force to clear a path through the sand. Once they entered the hidden underground structure, they found octagonal hallways and a matching computer bank ravaged by both the sands of time and the desert; blood trailed lower into the structure, as if a struggle occurred below and someone crawled--or was dragged--upwards. The blood was crusted over, long ago dried in the heat and fetid air. No bodies remained, however; the bleeding person must have escaped, or been taken away.

“Something terrible happened here,” Ben said, looking back at Rey and her Knights. She was looking down at the floor, deep in thought.

“Something went wrong,” she said, her brow furrowed.

She knew her grandfather stored artifacts here, among other things. There were none left to adorn the bare, utilitarian walls, but she could feel the Dark Side energy’s remnants. The place practically resonated with it, sending a shiver up her spine. She could feel rage and power in the thrum of energy that went unused. This facility served more than just that purpose, however.

Rey passed through a hallway leading deeper underground, feeling the dark presences all the more strongly the further she went. Upon entering a larger chamber, she leaned over a bridge to look down upon a well filled with rocks and debris. The dark energy seemed to echo all around her, calling her downwards. Her hands grasped the bridge as she tried to contemplate what purpose these chambers must have served, and why her parents were on Jakku in the first place. The Empire’s last battle took place just above; why were they guarding this sanctum filled with dark energy?

Far behind her, in the main chamber or anteroom, Ben and Maeve were fiddling with the computer bank.

“These are ancient,” she said, licking her lips from the heat and dry air. Ben nodded. “They served some Imperial purpose, though.” He pushed his hair back from his face and attempted to get the system started.

Maeve examined the dusty tangle of cords and wires underneath, coughing as she accidentally blew dust in her face. She was the Knights of Ren’s slicer and technology expert; while Rey could fix anything mechanical and pilot anything, Falisa was the political strategist, Oona was the seductress, Riona their muscle, Keeva an expert in languages and martial arts, and Fionnuala the best at battle mediation and healing.

Emerging from underneath the computer desks covered in dust and grime, Maeve eyed Ben again. “Everything looks connected and ready under there,” she said, coming around the bank to peer over his shoulder. He was entering manual command inputs with no success.

“My lady?” Keeva called down the hallway to the deep chamber where Rey had gone. When she did not respond, Keeva turned to Falisa. “Should we go check on her?”

Falisa’s red eyes flashed. “We would know if something had befallen her. Still, perhaps she could use assistance in her explorations. Take Oona with you. We will remain here for now.” She turned her eyes back to Ben, who pretended not to notice as he brushed his hair off his face once more.

Rey had sat down on the bridge, sinking into a deep meditation. The answers danced before her eyes and mind, too quick for her to catch, always on the tip of her tongue. She heard a man screaming, dark artifacts laughing as he fell and became the catalyst for something. But for what? Grandfather, help me, she wanted to scream. She wanted to scream and lash out and destroy the entirety of Jakku. Let it all burn, let it all know Rey Palpatine’s wrath. She was no longer no one, abandoned and worthless, merely a scavenger trying to survive. She found her place and would press every advantage, use every drop of strength and energy within her to make sure no one would ever face her fate again. She was wrath, she was vengeance, she was a desert fire, holy and pure in the dark.

Her anger burned through her swiftly and surely, turning to her frustrations’ most recent source. Surely her destiny was far greater than what Snoke had given her so far. A mere apprentice, lashed forever to a Light Side smuggler? She and her Knights could do so much more for the galaxy than stand mere sentinels while the New Republic attempted to bring democracy to the Western Reaches.

You are the Contingency, a woman’s voice whispered to her from the depths below.

“Mother?” Rey asked, but there was no one there. Her vision swam and her fingers grasped the shadows, finding nothing. The spectral figure she thought she saw was gone.

The demesne is clear, the board swept clean; a new demesne must be made, said a man, who appeared to be standing next to her, looking down towards the well. He wore a crisp white uniform, unblemished by the sand and dust. His posture was military, but his accent betrayed him; Rey knew him instantly for someone who had grown up on Jakku.

Rey blinked, and the scene changed. Your Empire is gone. I have killed it. You have friends. You aren't alone. Let's call them to us, shall we? the man continued, struggling with someone who Rey could not make out in her vision’s haze.

The ghosts of the Empire past remained here, angry and ambitious.

It's come to this, then? Death on a dead world. You've driven us all to the edge of the galaxy. To the edge of everything.

That voice was unmistakably Grand Admiral Sloane’s, Rey realized. She needed to have another talk with her. She needed answers. Where were the answers?

Ben and Maeve succeeded in turning on the computer bank, which displayed schematics for a ship and a set of coordinates in the Unknown Regions when Rey emerged from the depths with Keeva and Oona, looking as though she was in a trance. She walked arm in arm with Riona back to their ship, saying hardly anything to any of the Knights or Ben before collapsing onto her bunk, her hand pressed over her face, searching the depths of her mind and the twisting sands for what she knew had to be there.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: per questions and suggestions from my dear beta, it may be helpful to check out this Wookieepedia entry if you are unfamiliar with the Aftermath trilogy or need a refresher/haven’t read it recently! I’m also happy to answer any questions you may have. Thank you so much for reading and sticking with me! <3

#reylo #reylo fanfiction anthology #rffa birthday gifts #rffa writers #smuggler ben solo #dark side rey #arranged marriage au #fan fiction #my writing #moodboard #my playlists #this thing of darkness i acknowledge mine

[daggerzine]

Never too late. Sorrows’ Arthur Alexander brings us up to speed.

Though NYC power pop band Sorrows began way back in 1980 (the year their debut LP, Teenage Heartbreak was released) my introduction to them was about a decade ago when the Bomp label released the Bad Times Good Times record. Ok, so I was three decades late, that’s ok. Arthur Alexander, Joey Cola, Ricky Street and Jett Harris made up Sorrows and these guys made the NYC scene, wowing crowds at CBGB’s. Max’s Kansas City and other NYC clubs. Fast forward to a few months ago when I read that the Big Stir label is reissuing Sorrows 2nd album, Love Too Late…..well, sort of. Arthur and the guys re-recorded it (with 3/4 of the original lineup…Luis Herrera replacing Jett on drums) and retitled it, Love Too Late……the real album. You can read all about the specifics below but this new version sounds fantastic! The songs are punchy, hooky and, well, just great songs. I tossed some questions Arthur’s way and he was more than happy to gimme the skinny. Read on, dear readers and do check out the “new” album (also check out Bomp’s Poppee’s compilation, Pop Goes the Anthology. Arthur and Jett’s pre-Sorrows band).

Old-school Sorrows

So going way back what happened to the original album Love Too Late?

Our well-received debut album “Teenage Heartbreak” under the belt, we were ready to record a follow-up.  We were going to London to record it, got the legendary Shel Talmy (The Who, The Kinks, The Easybeats, etc.) to produce it and the world was ours for the taking.

Well, the stars were not exactly aligned the way we had hoped, and literally, right from the start.

First, after landing at Heathrow, Her Majesty’s Immigration Officials took exception to a bunch of guys in black leather jackets, hauling a music store worth of guitars and wanted to know what do they owe this pleasure to.  “What do you mean?! Step aside, we’re here to record our masterpiece album!”, said the clueless foursome us.   Turns out, in their infinite wisdom our record label didn’t even bother securing work visas for us, so our “Welcome to UK” passport stamps quickly turned into “Order to deport”.  After long negotiations at the airport by yours truly, playing Henry Kissinger for a day, I managed to convince them to let us in, somehow, with a special short term tourist visa. Say bye-bye to any possible gigs while we’re here as well.

On the second (first?) day of recording Shel decided to replace Jett Harris, our drummer.  Out went Jett, in came some studio hack with a feel for rock ‘n roll of a… studio hack. In all fairness, a nice enough chap, quick study and a proficient drummer, but played with the fire and intensity of a McDonald’s jingle session he probably just came from.

Right there, the heart of Sorrows was no longer beating.

In the ensuing days we discovered that we also no longer had three lead singers, but instead, Joey Cola became the “lead singer” of the band; a bunch of studio singers were singing all of our harmonies; our ferocious two-guitar onslaught was gone, drowning under the layers of synthesizers and the singing army of castratos.

When I heard the work in progress, I realized I basically had very limited options: fire Shel Talmy (or throw him down the stairs – plan B); shred the tape, or leave. Being a well-mannered idiot that I was I chose the latter. I packed my stuff, wrote Shel a note that I want nothing to do with this record, requesting that he erase all my guitar tracks (which of course he didn’t honor, no surprise there) and walked out of the studio, never to return.

After coming back to New York we were on an immediate collision course with the label. We told them this record is a total fake, we want nothing to do it and are going right back to being the band we are (were)… wait, or how about back to being the band they signed?

It didn’t come as much of a surprise to anyone, except for the label, that the record was a total stiff.  The DJs didn’t want to play it and our fans, even though they liked the songs, knew instinctively this was not a “Sorrows record”.

LTL...the original album cover.  Arthur says- “For what it’s worth, I always liked the cover.  Maybe, subconsciously, I was desperately looking  for something to like about this piece of shit with our name on it we were forced to live with.”

Did the band break up immediately afterward?

No, not immediately, but the writing was on the wall… Joey turned into a full-blown junkie, disappeared into a haze of drugs and alcohol and was fired from the band; a replacement was found, which the label would not accept; then Ricky left, another replacement…

Finally, I said ‘enough’ and dissolved the band.

What came next? Did you (and the other guys) keep writing/recording music?

Yes, I put my own studio together and immersed myself in working on my own stuff and producing other artists; Joey… who knows what he did, I’m just glad he eventually reemeged from the land of the dead, is thriving and back to making music again; Ricky played with a couple of other bands, and Jett too, before retiring from the business altogether.

Had you been in touch with the other guys the whole time or not?

On and off, absolutely.  There’s no “bad blood” between us, just life taking its course and the fact that I moved to Los Angeles so we are now bi-coastal, the rest of the guys still live in New York/New Jersey area. And of course we would get together for the sessions in the process of working on this release.

 The Bomp comp  (Per Arthur- “essentially, a re-release of “Teenage Heartbreak”, with bonus tracks and vastly improved mixes”)

Was there a legal issue with being able to record the songs again (did a label own the rights)?

Yes. like with so many other bands, we signed our lives away.  Musically speaking,  they owned us lock, stock and barrel.  It took years and years of negotiating with CBS, then SONY, all of it going nowhere. It wasn’t until the Orphan Works Act was passed by the US Congress in 2011 that allowed us to reclaim the rights to our songs and recording masters.  

 At what point did you decide to re-record the songs?

As I like to say, I made that decision the first week of our London sessions with Shel Talmy, after I walked out of there and never came back. I didn’t know how or when.  I just knew I was not going to allow this piece of fake crap with our name on it to be our legacy for this record.  They decided to fuck with the wrong guy.  It just took 40 years to get it done, but who’s counting?!

How did drummer Luis Herrera come into the picture? He’s excellent!

When in 2011 “Bad Times Good Times” album was released by Bomp! Records (essentially a re-release of “Teenage Hertbreak”, only way better sounding!) we started touring to support the album.  Since Jett was out of the picture we needed a new drummer.  On one of my nights out to LA clubs I spotted Luis playing with his band at the time.  Couldn’t take my eyes off of him… and the rest, as they say, is history.  Luis is also a part of my Arthur Alexander Band here in LA and played on both of my solo records, “One Bar Left” which came out in 2018 and the new one I’m finishing right now, coming out soon.

How was the first rehearsal?

Amazing.  It was just the three of us, Luis, Robbie Rist on bass and me. Joey was about to fly into LA to join us.  We started running through the songs and from the first downbeat it felt like a jet taking off… uplifting!  

How was it to work with Robbie Rist?

Excruciating and orgasmic, all at the same time!… I hate that guy!  He makes me feel so woefully inadequate!  Kidding aside, I love this guy! Robbie is a true child prodigy, an amazing drummer, guitarist, singer, you name it.  I don’t think there’s anything this guy can’t do.  But he does like to march to his own drum machine and that can be problematic at times.  Other than the times when I’m chasing after him with a meat cleaver?... a total joy to work with!  lol

How did contact with Big Stir Records come about?

It was really “organic”… They were holding a series of monthly Big Stir concerts and invited my Arthur Alexander Band to partake.  It went from there.  I got to know them not only as fellow musicians but also as people.  When the  time came to look for a label for “Love Too Late… the real album”, it was a no-brainer. The label profile was tailor-made for the kind of music Sorrows do, and even more important, they were the kind of people whose circle I wanted to be a part of.  Heart and soul, no bullshit – that’s the only thing I have room for at this point in my life.

 LTL...the new version 

Who are some of your favorite current artists?

Not much to speak of on the national/international scene, I really can’t think of any.  On a local LA scene Pat Todd and The Rankoutsiders.  Great fucking band, these guys should be playing stadiums, not LA dives!

Will there be more recording? Any live shows?

Funny you should ask!... After coming back from that Shel Talmy London cluster fuck, we were soooo totally disheartened, deflated, feeling beaten and betrayed.

There ain’t no cure for rock & roll blues better than some balls-to-the-wall rock ‘n’ roll, the Sorrows way!

We reconnected with Mark Milchman, one of the producers on “Teenage Heartbreak; reconvened at Mediasound Studio in New York where we recorded “Teenage Heartbreak”; set up mics, our amps and drums and in the course of one night ripped through an album’s worth of material.  And that’s the next Sorrows album you’re gonna hear!

Live shows?... ummm…waiting for the anti-vaxxer assholes to get a clue or die.  I have no appetite for going to a club to play a show, get 2 drink tickets, a few bucks and Covid as an extra bonus.

  Arthur giving the one finger salute. 

www.bigstirrecords.com

www.bigstirrecords.bandcamp.com 

www.bompstore.com 

[simonhvfc157-blog]

Answered: Your Most Burning Questions About Debt Relief

Ever get offers within the mail who promise to cut the money you owe dramatically thus making you debt-free in only 48 months? I get them weekly and I am interested in the magnitude with the offers. Debt consolidation offers usually appear in three different disguises by using variations on the party theme. Let’s look at tips on how to use either of the three debt consolidation loan ways to your advantage and let’s examine some with the shortcomings of each and every.

The most popular of these are bank card balance transfer offers accompanied by loan offers that roll all of your debt into one payment, then come the debt consolidation loan companies who take on the responsibility of paying your credit card or other debt payments provided you send them a check mark once per month.

Credit card offers

You should know that credit card deals that provide balance transfer promotions usually have a few strings attached. Most cards need you to make all your transfers back then you are taking up the offer. Another drawback is most offers comprise to $5,000 or $10,000. You never know what you're getting until as soon as the plastic card company has run your credit, so don’t be surprised should you be unable to consolidate all of your outstanding debt all at once.

The rates of interest on bank cards with balance transfer deals are certainly not all zero. There will be an introductory period as short as half a year, so read carefully to determine what rate will likely be applied to purchases and what rates are saved to offer following your grace period. They will often not the identical. A little known fact is if you additionally utilize the balance transfer card for purchases, any payments you make is going to be placed on the larger rate item before it’s placed on the low-rate transferred item. But if you're using balance transfer cards for debt consolidation loan, it is unlikely you need to make additional purchases should you be seriously interested in having your debt in check.

Credit cards that permit you to transfer your credit card debt off their cards usually have a fee attached. Most cards charge three percent from the value with the transfers. Others include one-time fixed fees. Over the long haul, you will save interest charges by making use of these and you can calculate the interest saved and put it on to the debt payments. But you must ensure to cover by the due date as plastic card issuers will increase your rate over a zero percent card for the default rate in case you miss a payment date.

High-interest loans

Debt consolidation offers are often manufactured by financial institutions who provide you with the prospect of lowering your monthly premiums. We’ve all seen the TV ads that promise to reduce your monthly debt payments by twenty, thirty and even 40 percent. For some people, the very thought of writing one check as opposed to tracking 4 to 5 separate debts is very attractive. It saves them the responsibility of remembering separate payment dates and amounts plus they get to keep a little more money in their pocket. The drawback, needless to say, is the fact that boat loan companies along with their like may ask you for around 21% or more to consolidate your credit card debt into one payment. You will save money inside short term but fork out more in interest charges inside the long term.

Debt consolidation loans may be right for you if you are ready to sacrifice the bigger interest rates for the modicum of convenience. If you can’t summon the self-discipline to generate those four or five individual debt payments it may be worth consolidating them. For one, you'll run less chance of missing a number of payment dates and having late debt payment charges stack up giving you.

Debt do some don’t

Most debt consolidators boast of being non-profit even though that could be so, they actually do require money to stay in operation. Some earn their living from charging you 10 percent in the payments you are consolidating, while some collect a percentage through the charge card companies with whom the negotiate in your stead. Debt consolidators, however, don’t do so much that you simply couldn’t do yourself.

Essentially they certainly two things: they call your creditors and arrange an arrangement so they can accept a lower payment than you currently are earning or perhaps a smaller balance than your debt is. Then they collect your payment and write checks towards the companies on your credit card debt payment list. Creditors usually favor dealing with debt consolidation loan companies because in the promise of a steady stream of payments they offer. Unfortunately, that steady stream could be a late stream in case you come across a debt consolidator with shady practices. If they eventually miss payments your credit score score could vulnerable if you are reported for the credit bureaus for late payment.

Do it yourself with equity

If there is an serious amounts of are prepared to make a couple of disciplined moves, you are able to finesse your debt consolidation loan. I have met a few people who are adept at playing the check transfer game, deftly switching debts they have accrued in one zero balance bank card towards the other just before the teaser offer for the credit card finishes. But not all of us have some time or willingness so to do. You will need to make sure you send each credit card company a proper request to seal your when you could otherwise negatively affect your credit score score leave a lot of accounts open at the identical time.

You may become your debt consolidation loan expert using a couple of approaches. Let’s assume you have your house and have substantial equity within it. Negotiating a house equity loan to pay off your finances is actually a wise move as you are going to likely acquire one in a dramatically reduced rate than the rate around the debts that you happen to be now struggling. You can then plan to pocket the savings but a much better idea would be to keep your payment level a similar as if you were paying multiple debts and repay the home equity loan faster.

Refinancing your property to cover off credit card debts can be a possibility however you must stay away to start utilizing your credit cards again. Otherwise, you are going to have effectively changed short-term debt to long-term debt and started on accumulating short-term debt again. I prefer to maintain my mortgage outside of my personal debt but your preferences are vastly different.

Do it yourself without equity

If you may not own a home or in the event you have little or no equity with your property, you can find steps you are able to take for being your financial troubles consolidator. The first and simplest approach is usually to obtain a personal bank loan out of your lending institution. Rates will tend to be lower than the plastic card rates you happen to be currently paying and you will be in a position to tackle the debt without the use of collateral.

Pick the phone and call your credit card companies and ask for any better interest rate. Quite often, account reps or supervisors are allowed a band by which they are able to reduce your debt rate however, you wouldn’t know if you don’t ask. If your debt includes charged-off items, most holders of the debt will likely be inclined to offer favorable terms consisting of lower payments or for a longer period. If you might have a windfall around tax time you happen to be the debt consolidation loan king! Call and negotiate funds yourself. I have got word of 35% settlements truly, these are generally offered on large debt balances of $5,000 and above. And make sure you get this settlement offers in writing.

Another technique is to cover the minimum payment on all your financial situation except one. Use the cash held on paying minimum payments to tackle your highest monthly interest debt most abundant in money you'll be able to spare. Having seen off that debt, move on the next one with a similar strategy, adding the payment you are making on debt primary towards the minimum payment on debt number 2. Rest assured, you may eventually dig oneself out from under your financial troubles mountain. When you are through, start paying yourself the money you used to cover out for the holders of the debt. And here’s a novel idea: find a savings account.

#debt consolidation. Debt relief #debt

[ebburke]

Kate

“Dear Ms. Ellis,

        You don’t know who I am. I go to Brighton Academy. My name is Sidney, or Sid for short. I have wanted to talk to you for a year. I didn’t think it would be a good idea.

        I’ve been reading your blog. I did before you stopped posting. I hope you’re doing okay.

        I know you’re probably sick of hearing this. I’m sorry for your loss. Michael sounds like he was a good guy. I never knew him but I’ve seen him at school and he seemed nice.

        I think you should know that I look up to you. You have been able to go on a whole year after losing your son. That is not something everyone can do. My mum sure couldn’t.

        Anyway, I don’t really know what I wanted to say. Nothing seems like it’s worth saying. I won’t tell you to keep holding on because that seems like a load of bollocks. I guess I’m just saying hello, you are very strong, I hope you are well.

Sincerely,

Sid Hennessy

The paper sat, worn from all the times it’d been folded and unfolded, stained on the edges by coffee and red wine and bourbon, side effects of Ms. Kate Ellis’s attempts to skip the day and stay awake all night. It had come around only a few days ago, and yet it was just scarcely visible under a clutter of other condolences and dying flowers and dishes smeared with the remains of casseroles that’d been pouring into the house since New Year’s. The freezer was now far past full. With the curtains drawn, there was a coolness that surpassed what would be expected in the U.K. in winter, and the whole of the house was blanketed in dust, except for the paths along which Kate drudged every day; those paths were free of anything except the worn carpet and the shade of the curtains. The kitchen surfaces were free of the loneliness suffered by the counters of others, laden with dishes and packaging and spills now long dried and cat hair, a peculiar addition given the absence of any cat living in the house, but attributable to the neighboring cat who often found herself entering any and all open windows in any and all houses within cat distance. The bin in the corner would be full if Kate had been capable of making the trip to it when needed. Given her current state, however, it was tidy and bored and the neighbor to a piece of notebook paper that had slipped off the refrigerator door in the middle of the night, which was nothing of importance now that the date written on it had passed.

The house wasn’t unused to an occasional state of disarray: that’d been happening with increasing frequency for a year and a few days now. Granted, the past four months had passed in relative tidiness, but that tidiness died at the anniversary. Kate’s friends and family had come to call and, of course, had offered help. Her sister, Georgia, went so far as to hire a cleaning service, but she only had so much patience on which to lean her empathy, and letting in the housekeepers would have involved Kate leaving her bed. Why would she bother, when the repeated knocking at the door was so soothing? As if another heartbeat existed in the house again.

The fall had been mild. The rains were light and the sky amicable to negotiation. The general discourse even seemed to let go of some of its usual tensions. The winter had brought wind, and Christmas was a mild affair due to Kate’s unwillingness to travel; her sister had come around on Boxing Day, but the presents she’d brought still lay wrapped at the foot of the loveseat by the fireplace. They’d thought it best not to condemn a tree. And, of course, New Year’s was spent in absolute darkness and isolation, bathed in the lukewarm ambience of out-of-date muscle relaxers and a made-for-TV movie about university students up to no good.

That just about lead up to present, where Kate was lying on her couch, one socked foot sticking out of the blanket, her wrist hanging limply off the edge, eyes closed under askew glasses, bushy brown hair done up in a bun, though mostly falling out. Light made its usual fruitless attempt to strain through the heavy curtains as morning seeped through the seams to no great effect. The title of a David Lean film flashed noncommittally from the television screen across the room, reflecting in Kate’s lenses. A tinny ring of the old aircon unit hummed from the window behind the kitchen, the only thing breaking the silence. The air in the living room settled around piles of magazines, newspapers, and books stacked haphazardly on the thick carpet, sprinkled with used cigarette filters and loose shreds of tobacco. The smell was just as stale, though diluted with incense and scented candles. Essentially everything but fresh air pervaded in the room. Kate had been good. She’d earned this relaxation. A few more days, that’s all. It was easier that way, to lean in to this regression rather than fight back up that hill. Even Sisyphus must take breaks when the gods aren’t watching.

Cards now were coming in the post, a few every day. Evidently, the private messages had circulated on various social media, whispers out the backdoor to remember it had been a year now, a whole year, can you believe it, since Michael had died. Still so tragic, though we never think about it anymore. We should send Kate a card. Have you posted it yet? No, forgot, will tomorrow. Post office is closed, oh well, it can wait until Monday. It’ll get to her soon enough. She’s got a lot on her mind, won’t notice if it shows up late. Then the cakes and sweets, dropped off with a quiet knock that was never meant to be answered. Needless to say they went stale on the stoop. Flowers, not many people sent flowers, they seemed to know no one would see them, let alone water them, before it was much too late for them to be worth watering. Only the flowers carried into the house by Georgia ever saw vases. Voicemails were the one thing Kate couldn’t escape. She’d silenced her phone, but messages get recorded no matter what you do. She didn’t have the stomach to play them nor the heart to delete them, so they were left to be patient. Set a good example.

What was more exhausting, the tsunami of the past year, rocking her tiny boat, threatening to capsize, springing leak after leak that she wasn’t fast enough to plug up, or this post-war battleground, bloody and still, bathed in horrid, ironic sunlight with no one left alive to warm, only the dead to make odoriferous? Was it worse hanging on for dear life or letting go and being suspended, nowhere soft to fall? Kate didn’t have the energy to seek an answer. It was all shit, it would always be shit. No, actually, the worst was that she didn’t even want to die. She sure as hell wasn’t interested in living, but death wouldn’t help anything. She’d had her suicidal phase of grief, the phase nobody talks about, the forgotten sixth phase, but that’d passed.

Two weeks past New Year’s, Kate knew it was time to get back to the routine. She was badly broken, but still disciplined, she knew time would go on, and, however badly she wanted it to do so without her, Kate knew she needed to compromise. She got groceries and take-away. Every other day, she made herself walk all the way to the sea and along the pier. The cold wind felt good on her face, strong. When the weather was exceptionally bad, she took herself to the Lanes for a tea. She taught herself to compliment the young man or woman at the till and to indulge and allow for two sugars. It was a system of give and take, work and reward. Kate wasn’t lonely, though she never engaged anyone else in her goings-on, except Martin.

When they’d begun meeting again in July, Kate hadn’t seen Michael’s father since the funeral, and, before that, for quite a few years, not since the custody had been settled. They’d been civil, always, of course. It was Georgia who didn’t like Martin, who thought he was controlling, manipulative, “emotionally abusive” - everything one can’t ever really concretely persuade a judge of, let alone convince Kate of. After Michael, it didn’t seem as though they had any reason to see one another ever again, even when it simultaneously felt like a reason to collapse back into each other’s arms, a conflict which had reached tenuous resolution in monthly drinks at the pub in Hove, where Martin lived. Drinks had a sentimentality about them that reached back past Michael, much before Michael, to their days at uni. It was strange to remember, it was strange to imagine there’d been time unburdened by what had happened a year ago, a time where they’d been unable even to imagine such a thing, nor to imagine any positive experience they had been so fortunate as to live out together. 

The two of them would drink three pints each, broken up by a cigarette or two on the terrace under the fairy lights, sat at picnic tables with a hundred other people, all there for the same thing but for vastly different reasons. Kate could get lost there, in them, in him, in the warmth of cider. It was the closest to relaxation she could get while still looking into eyes so much like her son’s. She often thought she’d quite like to love Martin again, in the old way, but he either refused to take the hint or was missing it entirely. 

As she crossed Eaton Road, on the third Tuesday of the month, as usual, Kate went back and forth in her mind between two options. Yes, she thought, she could keep her many promises to move on and not let Martin be her window back - she could make her sister and her brothers happy, respect her mom’s memory by not going back to Martin, not letting herself be pulled into him like a boat into a maelstrom. Or - a sheepish grin played across her face, she could let herself seek comfort and not exist like this alone. After all, who else felt the loss in the same way as the only other person to have called Michael son? 

Kate took her seat at their usual table and checked her watch. Martin was always late. The pack of straights in her purse was unexpectedly empty, so she pulled out a pinch of tobacco from the backup bag and rolled, cracking open the window next to her and letting in the crisp, winter air. She could’ve just as easily gone out to the garden with everyone else having a smoke, but the bartenders knew her here and usually bent the rules in solidarity. 

The door opened and, in with the gust of wind, came Martin, his tartan scarf draped unevenly around his neck, his tie loose. As he always did, he approached the bar and ordered their first round of drinks, overpaid, and gave a flirty line or two to the poor girl behind the tap with an hour left in her shift. The girl avoided his eyes and poured their ciders and didn’t play along, the sooner may he leave. Kate observed this interaction with compassion.

“Evening, lovely,” he said, sitting down heavily, ducking out of his scarf and jacket. His rapidly thinning hair was damp. “It’s just started to rain. You’re lucky you’re allowed to smoke inside, eh?”

“There’s the silver lining, is it?”

“Bound to be somewhere, wasn’t it?” 

“Cheers.” 

They drank, they conversed, they did as they did. They never did talk much about Michael if avoidable. These meetings were purely reminiscent of the before, far before, their old life. Before he left the first time, when she got pregnant. He came back a few times over the years from there, but Kate knew she kept too close an eye on him and that he needed his freedom and that is exactly why this new relationship was perfect. Once a month, always plenty to say. Plenty to hear.

A conversation about Kate’s sister and how annoying she always was about their relationship. An inquiry about Martin’s mother’s health. An exchange about the Albion football team’s performance in last weekend’s match. And then - 

“Yeah, yeah, I think Chloe’s well pleased - her brother trains them, you know.”

Kate did not, in fact, know. Kate didn’t recognize the name Chloe, not in the context of Martin, not other than the 26-year-old data-analyst or whatever-the-hell who worked in his PR office, currently running a campaign for the new Green Party candidate running on a platform of bin-beautification. That candidate would win, too - that’s how good Martin was. But Chloe, why did Kate feel as though he’d mentioned her before, why did that name pull at her stomach, he must’ve mentioned her before. Kate must hate this girl for a reason. Was she …

“Your girlfriend?” Kate raised her eyes at Martin. No nonsense, no hard feelings. Give it to her straight.

“Yes, about a month now.” Right.

“Good one, Mart. She’s beautiful.” Kate had met her once. No, seen her, through the office window on one of her detours over the summer before the two of them had gotten back in touch.

“Yes, isn’t she. Listen, Kate.…” Martin drained his glass. He looked in her eyes then thought better of it. He gave her some bullshit about taking a holiday next month that would make him miss their drinks. And a conference the following month that would interfere with that month’s meeting. And she took that in as he ducked back into his scarf and jacket and waved over his shoulder and opened the door and let it close. And she let him go as she took it in and wondered how she felt more nothing than before.

It wasn’t until she was buried deep under the blanket of white rum and ginger soda that the din of her echoing mind would tire to the point where all but one thought could drift out of focus. What remained was, not motivation per se, more of the subtle bounce-back one experiences when a car brakes slowly and finally completes its stop. Nothing left to do, all momentum gone, a residual propulsion nudging her back to life, or the next-best thing. 

Real life started back up officially the following Monday. Kate’s bills were piled up higher than she was comfortable with and she’d been off work for a full month. Julianne had offered Kate that long, Julianne was kinder and more supportive than she had to be, but Kate had never been one to take advantage of someone like that. Kate envied people like that, so she honored them.

Her office was uptown, an old flat converted into a semi-divided workspace, mostly stuffed with bookshelves and file cabinets, Kate’s desk, Julianne’s desk, Rosie’s desk, and Richard’s corner cubicle, an addition he’d insisted upon - the better to maintain his privacy. Kate and Julianne joked between the two of them that he was planning their downfall from behind the chest-high walls, conspiring to usurp them with Rosie at his side. Kate personally thought she and Julianne were benevolent rulers of their four-person kingdom, one they generously referred to as an agency for local writers who needed their work edited and put in the right hands up in London. 

Kate watched her espresso dribble into her chipped mug, delaying her impending confrontation with what would surely be thousands of emails from clients and potentials who had been waiting so long for her to get back to them. She’d never programmed an out-of-office message alerting those trying to reach her to instead try Julianne or Rosie. 

Sitting at her desk, she warmed up a lethargic desktop that was even more reluctant than she was to return to the routine. There were the usual emails from the news sites she subscribed to for daily updates; receipts from Netflix and Amazon; a few query letters with 500-word novel introductions attached - she’d get to those after lunch. One, however, caught her eye. The subject line: Hello Again. Kate clicked. 

Dear Ms. Ellis,

My name is Sid. I wrote you a letter a few weeks ago - I don’t know if you got it. Anyway, I want to know if maybe we could have tea. I don’t know why. Maybe we could help each other. I want to know how you get through things, and why my mum couldn’t. And maybe I can be helpful for you, too. 

Sincerely,

Sid Hennessy

Kate held her last sip of coffee in her mouth, letting it cool under her tongue. She recognized the name, of course - it was the only letter she’d consciously kept, solely because she was so fascinated with the concept of a ten-year-old knowing who she was and caring. She’d been trying to answer for herself if she wanted to know him too, but something about it was wrong…She deleted the letter and closed her laptop, taking her mug to be refilled.

#fiction

[justsomeantifas]

Here’s your dose of “What the Fuck is Going On” News (My Birthday 2/24/2017 Edition)

Today the White House blocked a number of media outlets in a briefing with press secretary Sean Spicer. Only a select group of outlets such as Breitbart, One America News Network, Fox News, etc. were allowed in, while reporters from the New York Times, CNN, Politico, BBC, the Los Angeles Times, etc. were barred. This was a major break in protocol and most of the outlets chosen to participate were ones who have a more friendly, positive reporting of Trump. (source)

A leaked draft was exposed today that showed a republican replacement plan for the Affordable Care Act.The draft is dated from two weeks ago so we will likely see some changes in the future but it's a good guide to what we're looking at regarding this repeal and replace plan. The plan has already been blasted for being obviously bad for lower-income and/or sick people and better from those who are higher-income and/or healthy. It would also let insurers charge sick people more if they did not maintain “continuous coverage.” (Full 106-page draft here)

Authorities cleared out the last of those who remained at Standing Rock, however 100 of protester still remain in the general area. It's estimated that the Dakota Access pipeline could be up and running as early as 2 weeks. Energy Transfer Partners has finished drilling under Lake Oahe and will soon be laying pipe under the last stretch of the pipeline, the Missouri River reservoir. Over 30 tribes and several Native American rights groups are filing requests for the decision be overturned. (source)

Trump signed an executive order today to slash regulations in what he says will help businesses. The measure directs federal agencies to create "regulatory reform" task forces which will evaluate federal rules and recommend whether to keep, repeal or change them. Trump signed the order with several CEOs of major U.S. corporations standing behind him. (source)

Trump is expected to sign two more executive orders within the next week that deal with environmental and climate regulations. One order reportedly featured criticism of the global climate deal until Ivanka and Jared Kushner pushed to exclude the criticism. (source)

The head of the Montana Republican Party, Jeff Essmann, wrote an emergency plea in an attempt to stop allowing residents to cast mail-in ballots. Essmann wants to stop mail-in ballots because he believes it hurts republicans and makes it more difficult for the GOP to maintain control of state politics. Essmann complained that “Vote-by-mail is designed to increase participation rates of lower propensity voters.” (source)

Trump bragged at his recent Florida rally that after a negotiating for only an hour he managed to shave a billion dollars off the price of a new Air Force One. However, Air Force spokesman, Colonel Pat Ryder, told reporters yesterday that he has no idea what Trump is talking about. “To my knowledge I have not been told that we have that information,” he said. (source)

The Republican-led Arizona state Senate passed a bill on Wednesday that would permit the government to seize protesters’ assets and prosecute them under a racketeering law designed to target organized crime. The bill seeks to limit political demonstrations by expanding the definition of a “riot” to include actions that damage property, and making rioting an offense that can be prosecuted under racketeering statutes - putting protesting on par with terrorism in the state. (source)

Breitbart News CEO Larry Solov confirmed that the Mercer family are partial owners of the news site. The Mercer family was also a key backer of Trump's campaign and are GOP mega-donors. This is a problem because Breitbart is currently in the process of applying for congressional press credentials through the Standing Committee of Correspondents. In order to secure official Capitol Hill credentials, they must prove that their editorial teams are independent and not directed by corporate or political entities, which obviously they are. They currently have access under temporary press passes. (source)

Analysts at the Homeland Security Department found that there is insufficient evidence to back up Trump's claims that the citizens of the seven Muslim-majority counties in the travel ban pose a terror threat to the U.S. Trump cited terrorism concerns as being the primary reason for the ban, but the draft document concluded that few people from these countries have carried out attacks or been involved in terrorism-related activities. (Draft can be read here)

Last night Mike Pence spoke at the Conservative Political Action Committee (CPAC) and addressed several issues in his 22 minute speech. He talked about Ronald Reagan, Israel, the media, taxes, Supreme Court pick Neil Gorsuch, and healthcare. He assured the crowd that "America's ObamaCare nightmare is about to end." (source)

CPAC continues today and Trump took the stage, the following bullet points will address the topics that were discussed. All the following are cited from the transcript found here and the fact checking notes can be found here and here.

As usual Trump blasted the media for being "dishonest" in their reporting on him, and went on and on about how they're "fake." He mentioned that he doesn’t think reporters should be allowed to keep unnamed sources unnamed, despite him doing the exact same thing in the past. Funnily enough, Trump also cited the reports and firing of former National Security Adviser Michael Flynn as fake news - but if it was fake then why did Trump fire him? 

Trump told the audience that the military has been vastly weakened and "very depleted, very, very depleted.” This is false, while the number of warships and the size of the army has reduced in recent years the U.S. still spends the most on the military by far.

He touted his approval ratings and his "massive landslide victory in the electoral college," calling it a "victory like nobody has seen before." He often states that his win was the biggest win in recent history and as usual he's incorrect. Trump's win ranks between the lowest one-fourth and the lowest one-fifth of all Electoral College victories in history.

Former Ukip leader Nigel Farage also spoke at CPAC where he told the audience that the UK's real friends "speak English." He went on to praise Trump and finished his speech with a call for Western nationalism. “We’re not against anybody based on religion or ethnicity. We’re not against anybody, but we’re for ourselves, we’re for our country, we’re for our communities, we’re for making our people safe and with less risk from global terror! That is what we’re for! And we’re for our country and we’re for our people and we are winning!” (source)

And now your daily reminder that: Flint, Michigan still doesn’t have clean water. Standing Rock still needs your support. The American infrastructure report card still averages poorly with the rating of a “D+” And I would also suggest looking into donating to help the Chesed Shel Emeth Society repair and replace the broken monuments that were recently desecrated in an act of anti-Semitic vandalism. 

#Donald Trump #politics #healthcare #political corruption #Standing Rock #environmental racism #environmental issues #nationalism #white nationalism #travel ban #Islamophobia #anti-semitism #flint water crisis #What the Fuck is Going On News #Mod H

[americanlibertypac]

VIDEO AND FULL TEXT: U.S. Withdrawal From the Paris Climate Accord

June 01, 2017

Statement by President Trump on the Paris Climate Accord

Rose Garden

3:32 P.M. EDT

THE PRESIDENT:  Thank you very much.  (Applause.)  Thank you.  I would like to begin by addressing the terrorist attack in Manila.  We’re closely monitoring the situation, and I will continue to give updates if anything happens during this period of time.  But it is really very sad as to what’s going on throughout the world with terror.  Our thoughts and our prayers are with all of those affected.

Before we discuss the Paris Accord, I’d like to begin with an update on our tremendous — absolutely tremendous — economic progress since Election Day on November 8th.  The economy is starting to come back, and very, very rapidly.  We’ve added $3.3 trillion in stock market value to our economy, and more than a million private sector jobs.

I have just returned from a trip overseas where we concluded nearly $350 billion of military and economic development for the United States, creating hundreds of thousands of jobs.  It was a very, very successful trip, believe me.  (Applause.)  Thank you.  Thank you.

In my meetings at the G7, we have taken historic steps to demand fair and reciprocal trade that gives Americans a level playing field against other nations.  We’re also working very hard for peace in the Middle East, and perhaps even peace between the Israelis and the Palestinians.  Our attacks on terrorism are greatly stepped up — and you see that, you see it all over — from the previous administration, including getting many other countries to make major contributions to the fight against terror.  Big, big contributions are being made by countries that weren’t doing so much in the form of contribution.

One by one, we are keeping the promises I made to the American people during my campaign for President –- whether it’s cutting job-killing regulations; appointing and confirming a tremendous Supreme Court justice; putting in place tough new ethics rules; achieving a record reduction in illegal immigration on our southern border; or bringing jobs, plants, and factories back into the United States at numbers which no one until this point thought even possible.  And believe me, we’ve just begun.  The fruits of our labor will be seen very shortly even more so.

On these issues and so many more, we’re following through on our commitments.  And I don’t want anything to get in our way.  I am fighting every day for the great people of this country.  Therefore, in order to fulfill my solemn duty to protect America and its citizens, the United States will withdraw from the Paris Climate Accord — (applause) — thank you, thank you — but begin negotiations to reenter either the Paris Accord or a really entirely new transaction on terms that are fair to the United States, its businesses, its workers, its people, its taxpayers.  So we’re getting out.  But we will start to negotiate, and we will see if we can make a deal that’s fair.  And if we can, that’s great.  And if we can’t, that’s fine.  (Applause.)

As President, I can put no other consideration before the wellbeing of American citizens.  The Paris Climate Accord is simply the latest example of Washington entering into an agreement that disadvantages the United States to the exclusive benefit of other countries, leaving American workers — who I love — and taxpayers to absorb the cost in terms of lost jobs, lower wages, shuttered factories, and vastly diminished economic production.

Thus, as of today, the United States will cease all implementation of the non-binding Paris Accord and the draconian financial and economic burdens the agreement imposes on our country.  This includes ending the implementation of the nationally determined contribution and, very importantly, the Green Climate Fund which is costing the United States a vast fortune.

Compliance with the terms of the Paris Accord and the onerous energy restrictions it has placed on the United States could cost America as much as 2.7 million lost jobs by 2025 according to the National Economic Research Associates.  This includes 440,000 fewer manufacturing jobs — not what we need — believe me, this is not what we need — including automobile jobs, and the further decimation of vital American industries on which countless communities rely.  They rely for so much, and we would be giving them so little.

According to this same study, by 2040, compliance with the commitments put into place by the previous administration would cut production for the following sectors:  paper down 12 percent; cement down 23 percent; iron and steel down 38 percent; coal — and I happen to love the coal miners — down 86 percent; natural gas down 31 percent.  The cost to the economy at this time would be close to $3 trillion in lost GDP and 6.5 million industrial jobs, while households would have $7,000 less income and, in many cases, much worse than that.

Not only does this deal subject our citizens to harsh economic restrictions, it fails to live up to our environmental ideals.  As someone who cares deeply about the environment, which I do, I cannot in good conscience support a deal that punishes the United States — which is what it does -– the world’s leader in environmental protection, while imposing no meaningful obligations on the world’s leading polluters.

For example, under the agreement, China will be able to increase these emissions by a staggering number of years — 13.  They can do whatever they want for 13 years.  Not us.  India makes its participation contingent on receiving billions and billions and billions of dollars in foreign aid from developed countries.  There are many other examples.  But the bottom line is that the Paris Accord is very unfair, at the highest level, to the United States.

Further, while the current agreement effectively blocks the development of clean coal in America — which it does, and the mines are starting to open up.  We’re having a big opening in two weeks.  Pennsylvania, Ohio, West Virginia, so many places.  A big opening of a brand-new mine.  It’s unheard of.  For many, many years, that hasn’t happened.  They asked me if I’d go.  I’m going to try.

China will be allowed to build hundreds of additional coal plants.  So we can’t build the plants, but they can, according to this agreement.  India will be allowed to double its coal production by 2020.  Think of it:  India can double their coal production.  We’re supposed to get rid of ours.  Even Europe is allowed to continue construction of coal plants.

In short, the agreement doesn’t eliminate coal jobs, it just transfers those jobs out of America and the United States, and ships them to foreign countries.

This agreement is less about the climate and more about other countries gaining a financial advantage over the United States.  The rest of the world applauded when we signed the Paris Agreement — they went wild; they were so happy — for the simple reason that it put our country, the United States of America, which we all love, at a very, very big economic disadvantage.  A cynic would say the obvious reason for economic competitors and their wish to see us remain in the agreement is so that we continue to suffer this self-inflicted major economic wound.  We would find it very hard to compete with other countries from other parts of the world.

We have among the most abundant energy reserves on the planet, sufficient to lift millions of America’s poorest workers out of poverty.  Yet, under this agreement, we are effectively putting these reserves under lock and key, taking away the great wealth of our nation — it’s great wealth, it’s phenomenal wealth; not so long ago, we had no idea we had such wealth — and leaving millions and millions of families trapped in poverty and joblessness.

The agreement is a massive redistribution of United States wealth to other countries.  At 1 percent growth, renewable sources of energy can meet some of our domestic demand, but at 3 or 4 percent growth, which I expect, we need all forms of available American energy, or our country — (applause) — will be at grave risk of brownouts and blackouts, our businesses will come to a halt in many cases, and the American family will suffer the consequences in the form of lost jobs and a very diminished quality of life.

Even if the Paris Agreement were implemented in full, with total compliance from all nations, it is estimated it would only produce a two-tenths of one degree — think of that; this much — Celsius reduction in global temperature by the year 2100.  Tiny, tiny amount.  In fact, 14 days of carbon emissions from China alone would wipe out the gains from America — and this is an incredible statistic — would totally wipe out the gains from America’s expected reductions in the year 2030, after we have had to spend billions and billions of dollars, lost jobs, closed factories, and suffered much higher energy costs for our businesses and for our homes.

As the Wall Street Journal wrote this morning:  “The reality is that withdrawing is in America’s economic interest and won’t matter much to the climate.”  The United States, under the Trump administration, will continue to be the cleanest and most environmentally friendly country on Earth.  We’ll be the cleanest.  We’re going to have the cleanest air.  We’re going to have the cleanest water.  We will be environmentally friendly, but we’re not going to put our businesses out of work and we’re not going to lose our jobs.  We’re going to grow; we’re going to grow rapidly.  (Applause.)

And I think you just read — it just came out minutes ago, the small business report — small businesses as of just now are booming, hiring people.  One of the best reports they’ve seen in many years.

I’m willing to immediately work with Democratic leaders to either negotiate our way back into Paris, under the terms that are fair to the United States and its workers, or to negotiate a new deal that protects our country and its taxpayers.  (Applause.)

So if the obstructionists want to get together with me, let’s make them non-obstructionists.  We will all sit down, and we will get back into the deal.  And we’ll make it good, and we won’t be closing up our factories, and we won’t be losing our jobs.  And we’ll sit down with the Democrats and all of the people that represent either the Paris Accord or something that we can do that’s much better than the Paris Accord.  And I think the people of our country will be thrilled, and I think then the people of the world will be thrilled.  But until we do that, we’re out of the agreement.

I will work to ensure that America remains the world’s leader on environmental issues, but under a framework that is fair and where the burdens and responsibilities are equally shared among the many nations all around the world.

No responsible leader can put the workers — and the people — of their country at this debilitating and tremendous disadvantage.  The fact that the Paris deal hamstrings the United States, while empowering some of the world’s top polluting countries, should dispel any doubt as to the real reason why foreign lobbyists wish to keep our magnificent country tied up and bound down by this agreement:  It’s to give their country an economic edge over the United States.  That’s not going to happen while I’m President.  I’m sorry.  (Applause.)

My job as President is to do everything within my power to give America a level playing field and to create the economic, regulatory and tax structures that make America the most prosperous and productive country on Earth, and with the highest standard of living and the highest standard of environmental protection.

Our tax bill is moving along in Congress, and I believe it’s doing very well.  I think a lot of people will be very pleasantly surprised.  The Republicans are working very, very hard.  We’d love to have support from the Democrats, but we may have to go it alone.  But it’s going very well.

The Paris Agreement handicaps the United States economy in order to win praise from the very foreign capitals and global activists that have long sought to gain wealth at our country’s expense.  They don’t put America first.  I do, and I always will.  (Applause.)

The same nations asking us to stay in the agreement are the countries that have collectively cost America trillions of dollars through tough trade practices and, in many cases, lax contributions to our critical military alliance.  You see what’s happening.  It’s pretty obvious to those that want to keep an open mind.

At what point does America get demeaned?  At what point do they start laughing at us as a country?   We want fair treatment for its citizens, and we want fair treatment for our taxpayers.  We don’t want other leaders and other countries laughing at us anymore.  And they won’t be.  They won’t be.

I was elected to represent the citizens of Pittsburgh, not Paris.  (Applause.)  I promised I would exit or renegotiate any deal which fails to serve America’s interests.  Many trade deals will soon be under renegotiation.  Very rarely do we have a deal that works for this country, but they’ll soon be under renegotiation.  The process has begun from day one.  But now we’re down to business.

Beyond the severe energy restrictions inflicted by the Paris Accord, it includes yet another scheme to redistribute wealth out of the United States through the so-called Green Climate Fund — nice name — which calls for developed countries to send $100 billion to developing countries all on top of America’s existing and massive foreign aid payments.  So we’re going to be paying billions and billions and billions of dollars, and we’re already way ahead of anybody else.  Many of the other countries haven’t spent anything, and many of them will never pay one dime.

The Green Fund would likely obligate the United States to commit potentially tens of billions of dollars of which the United States has already handed over $1 billion — nobody else is even close; most of them haven’t even paid anything — including funds raided out of America’s budget for the war against terrorism.  That’s where they came.  Believe me, they didn’t come from me.  They came just before I came into office.  Not good.  And not good the way they took the money.

In 2015, the United Nation’s departing top climate officials reportedly described the $100 billion per year as “peanuts,” and stated that “the $100 billion is the tail that wags the dog.”  In 2015, the Green Climate Fund’s executive director reportedly stated that estimated funding needed would increase to $450 billion per year after 2020.  And nobody even knows where the money is going to.  Nobody has been able to say, where is it going to?

Of course, the world’s top polluters have no affirmative obligations under the Green Fund, which we terminated.  America is $20 trillion in debt.  Cash-strapped cities cannot hire enough police officers or fix vital infrastructure.  Millions of our citizens are out of work.  And yet, under the Paris Accord, billions of dollars that ought to be invested right here in America will be sent to the very countries that have taken our factories and our jobs away from us.  So think of that.

There are serious legal and constitutional issues as well.  Foreign leaders in Europe, Asia, and across the world should not have more to say with respect to the U.S. economy than our own citizens and their elected representatives.  Thus, our withdrawal from the agreement represents a reassertion of America’s sovereignty.  (Applause.)  Our Constitution is unique among all the nations of the world, and it is my highest obligation and greatest honor to protect it.  And I will.

Staying in the agreement could also pose serious obstacles for the United States as we begin the process of unlocking the restrictions on America’s abundant energy reserves, which we have started very strongly.  It would once have been unthinkable that an international agreement could prevent the United States from conducting its own domestic economic affairs, but this is the new reality we face if we do not leave the agreement or if we do not negotiate a far better deal.

The risks grow as historically these agreements only tend to become more and more ambitious over time.  In other words, the Paris framework is a starting point — as bad as it is — not an end point.  And exiting the agreement protects the United States from future intrusions on the United States’ sovereignty and massive future legal liability.  Believe me, we have massive legal liability if we stay in.

As President, I have one obligation, and that obligation is to the American people.  The Paris Accord would undermine our economy, hamstring our workers, weaken our sovereignty, impose unacceptable legal risks, and put us at a permanent disadvantage to the other countries of the world.  It is time to exit the Paris Accord — (applause) — and time to pursue a new deal that protects the environment, our companies, our citizens, and our country.

It is time to put Youngstown, Ohio, Detroit, Michigan, and Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania — along with many, many other locations within our great country — before Paris, France.  It is time to make America great again.  (Applause.)  Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you very much.

Thank you very much.  Very important.  I’d like to ask Scott Pruitt, who most of you know and respect, as I do, just to say a few words.

Scott, please.  (Applause.)

ADMINISTRATOR PRUITT:  Thank you, Mr. President.  Your decision today to exit the Paris Accord reflects your unflinching commitment to put America first.

And by exiting, you’re fulfilling yet one more campaign promise to the American people.  Please know that I am thankful for your fortitude, your courage, and your steadfastness as you serve and lead our country.

America finally has a leader who answers only to the people — not to the special interests who have had their way for way too long.  In everything you do, Mr. President, you’re fighting for the forgotten men and women across this country.  You’re a champion for the hardworking citizens all across this land who just want a government that listens to them and represents their interest.

You have promised to put America First in all that you do, and you’ve done that in any number of ways — from trade, to national security, to protecting our border, to rightsizing Washington, D.C.  And today you’ve put America first with regard to international agreements and the environment.

This is an historic restoration of American economic independence — one that will benefit the working class, the working poor, and working people of all stripes.  With this action, you have declared that the people are rulers of this country once again.  And it should be noted that we as a nation do it better than anyone in the world in striking the balance between growing our economy, growing jobs while also being a good steward of our environment.

We owe no apologies to other nations for our environmental stewardship.  After all, before the Paris Accord was ever signed, America had reduced its CO2 footprint to levels from the early 1990s.  In fact, between the years 2000 and 2014, the United States reduced its carbon emissions by 18-plus percent.  And this was accomplished not through government mandate, but accomplished through innovation and technology of the American private sector.

For that reason, Mr. President, you have corrected a view that was paramount in Paris that somehow the United States should penalize its own economy, be apologetic, lead with our chin, while the rest of world does little.  Other nations talk a good game; we lead with action — not words.  (Applause.)

Our efforts, Mr. President, as you know, should be on exporting our technology, our innovation to nations who seek to reduce their CO2 footprint to learn from us.  That should be our focus versus agreeing to unachievable targets that harm our economy and the American people.

Mr. President, it takes courage, it takes commitment to say no to the plaudits of men while doing what’s right by the American people.  You have that courage, and the American people can take comfort because you have their backs.

Thank you, Mr. President.

END 4:03 P.M. EDT

#Paris Climate Accord #Pruitt #Sessions #Climate Change #Global Warming #Government Spending #Government Waste #U.N. #United Nations #Video

[queen-mabs-revenge]

Alright, @mossandmushroom, call off the p0.rn bots! Thing the third. Just under a year old, this one – started after 5.15, as will become obvious. This still needs some (read: a fucking lot of) work, if I’m honest, but the point of this exercise is to stop sitting on things while looking up literacy rates in the early 18th century, so…

Jones Brothers backstory meta that kind of morphed into fic because that’s how I roll. As you can imagine, this is not a happy time. Mentions of minor character death, corporal punishment, and oblique references to spec (spawned by this post yep, surprise surprise @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable is involved!) as to the reason why Killian started drinking in the first place.

It isn’t completely terrible at first.

Mama had always let them read over her shoulder at night, and it wasn’t long before she was guiding them through sounding out the words themselves – a kiss on the head for every particularly difficult one; her having to break up squabbles because Liam would snigger when Killian stumbled over a word he’d worked out years ago – first Liam, then Killian in turn. They learned quickly.

And whenever Father would return home, Liam would accompany him to the merchant’s office listening intently to the numbers being volleyed back and forth while negotiations for prices were being made. The first time he tried to barter his way out of eating sprouts because he’d calculated that he’d eaten more than enough this year already, Father almost inhaled his ale he was laughing so hard at the look of astonishment on Mama’s face.

And Captain Barrow is terrifying with his wiry white hair and deeply lined face, but he sees value where value lies, if nothing else, and another sure hand and a head for numbers is something he puts straight to good use. And if Killian peers over the edge of the desk at Liam’s graceful letters that look like Mama’s did, and runs his fingers reverently along the complicated instruments keeping the maps from snapping shut, the captain doesn’t shoo him away to help in the mess all the time.

That’s not to say it isn’t terrible at times. Food is scarce, days are long and hard, and sometimes Killian looks over the wrong person’s shoulder (he doesn’t mean to get in the way, but everything is so new) and he might get a cuff tossed his way, but the nights of inconsolable crying had ended when he realised that Father wasn’t coming to collect them at the next port, or the one after that, and any outbursts borne of general frustration or exhaustion are easily silenced with a look from Liam, or an arm around the shoulder.

But the Captain is already past his prime, and it was only a matter of time before the harsh sea air settled into his lungs. A few short years after Brennan disappears, Liam transcribes the Captain’s last will and testament and Killian hauls away buckets of bloody rags that remind him too much of half-dreamlike memories of the bare glimpses he caught of Mama’s bedroom before he was shooed away out of sight.

Captain Barrow’s death leaves too many accounts to settle, and two boys who can’t haul full weight (a boy and a young man, really – but Liam had begged…) were luxuries that could not be spared; the new captain – the old first mate who often acted annoyed, but would slip them extra bread after supper eyes them dolefully as their title is sold to balance the books.

And as the negotiations are going on, and the other ship’s quartermaster eyes Liam’s broad frame and Killian’s skinny, awkward legs, Killian realises that if this man wants Liam and not him, there’s nothing they can do to stop it. If the man doesn’t want to spend the silver, or doesn’t need a boy of letters there’s no need for him. He can’t stop this. He can’t change this. His world narrows, darkens around the edges, the haggling voices fade into the background and his breath starts coming quickly. He looks up at Liam for something, anything, but his brother is staring straight ahead silently and calmly. Killian doesn’t miss the twitch in his jaw, a silent warning, when he catches Killian’s trembling and fidgeting in the corner of his eye. And Killian doesn’t understand how he’s doing nothing, when it’s taking everything in him to not grab Liam’s hand and run like hell. How can he be so calm when this matters so much? Killian focuses his simmering anger on his brother’s every calm and measured breath as the deal is struck.

He doesn’t talk to Liam for the first few days on the new ship – he doesn’t talk to anyone, really. The new captain is a vastly different breed, and the bo’sun is a mean fucker, and Killian vents his anger on various and sundry inanimate objects around the deck while silently doing what he’s told. Which of course gets the eye from the bo’sun. Not that Killian notices in his rage; he pointedly ignores Liam’s continued attempts to calm him, and after three days of this tantrum, he gets slapped hard for yanking the net he’s meant to be untangling out of a crew member’s hands. He breaks down sobbing when Liam tends to his split and blooded cheek in the hold.

But from that point on, the anger never really goes away, because he’s twelve years old and he knows that his life is not his own. And he’s made sure to know it every time his anger spills over into defiance, which in turn gets him harsher and harsher punishments, which serve as further reminders of his powerlessness, which feeds the fire that smoulders away in his heart. And it becomes so easy to provoke him, and some opportunistic crew members find out that riling the angry slave is a terribly amusing way to pull rank. And when Liam steps in to protect him from being baited, that’s when Liam starts to get beat for insubordination as well.

And he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to do because it’s his fault and he tries so hard to ignore them and let it go for Liam’s sake but he can’t bottle up his anger. He can’t stop himself.

Then there’s the time when the ship has been listing due to a windless few days and everyone’s on edge. He’s toed off balance by a hard shoulder from the bo’sun while leaning over the rail trying to scrape some particularly tenacious barnacles off the side of the ship. When he stumbles back out of harm’s way, he’s grabbed by the back of the neck and ordered to go pick the maggots out of the hard tack. He yanks himself out of the man’s grasp with a growl, and kicks out at a coil of rope while stomping away. 

And then he hears the captain call out his brother’s name. 

And suddenly his heart is in his throat and his stomach has dropped to the floor because the captain is hauling Liam to his feet and he’s confused and terrified until he hears the man snarling something about Liam not being able to teach the boy some respect after all and then the knotted end of a thick bit of rope is being dragged across Liam’s back as he bends over grasping white-knuckled at the rail. And Killian is struck dumb with horror, because it’s not like other times when Liam would stand up to someone bullying him, Liam wasn’t doing anything at all and he’s still getting flogged because of him. And he goes white as a sheet and staggers a step back as the breath leaves his lungs. A crew member can’t resist but to push his shoulder and sneer about useless mouths getting what they deserve, and Killian finds that where his fists would usually be flying in frustration, he’s too horror-struck to even register the provocation.

And later, lying in bed, Liam’s bruised and welted back to him, he can’t stop thinking about that moment. Because he didn’t fight back. He was so numbed from the scene that he couldn’t. Liam shifts a little and he can hear the tiny moan of pain that his brother tries to bite back, and as the tears leak silently from the corners of his eyes, he knows he’d do anything to feel nothing again.

#the jones brothers #killian jones #liam jones #this is not a happy time ok pls note #tw: abuse #yeah sorry :'( #wakened thoughts create

[diddlesanddoodles]

An Unconventional Homecoming...(G/T Dragon story.)

The wind was rushing passed at such a loud roar that it completely deafened the sound of the great beating wings keeping them aloft. The metal mesh pouch would have been vastly less hospitable without the thick red pad, as thread bare and worn as it was. However, it was very large and shielded her from most of the wind as well as the hard metal circlets of the metal mesh’s weave. The reaping chill of the cold night air she was shielded from as well not only by the sake of the pad, but also the enormous barrel chest of the ferocious dragon of whom she found herself victim. The metal mesh pouch and pad having been strapped quiet securely to the creatures breast by virtue of several stiff, strong, and well oiled leather straps. The hard cream colored scales radiated heat and had her current circumstances been different or even forgotten, she would have been perfectly comfortable. As it was, her circumstances remained just as dire and she just as terrified.

The beast had come in the night, under the cover of heavy rain clouds, just as the small caravan had settled in for a night’s rest under their colorful tents and wagons. Having spent the day transversing the rocky outcroppings of the Volum Stratus plateau, none of the travelers heard the low rushing sound until the light of the fires illuminated the great horned monster as it flew over their camp. In its wake, the gust of wind sent several tens flying and a shower of golden embers from the fires flying about. Her master’s wagon caught fire first and the dry straw packed in with the heavy silks and brocades and more expensive fabrics were aflame within mere moments. The gilded sign on the green wagon’s side reading ‘Thomas Towley Traveling Tailor’ was being chewed up by the smoldering heat from the burning wares. Her master was shrieking at her, his treasured and carefully powdered wig was askew and his face contorted into a facade that was almost comical in its panic.

“Water! Water, girl!” he shrieked, batting uselessly at the flames engulfing his name and painted likeness with a deep purple dinner jacket and cried out in dismay when it too caught the flames.

Yanna grabbed a water skin from one of the horses and dumped it onto the flames, but such a small amount of water did nothing against the roaring flames now. Towley waddled over to her as she watched the wagon burn and drew his short stubby hand across her face. She fell to the ground, shocked and in pain.

“Go to the water wagon and fill this bucket you filthy simpleton!”

She scrambled away fervently from the enraged man, carrying the bucket he had thrown after her. He was a short stoutly fellow, but his temper made up for any other inadequacies he possessed, hidden behind fine clothes and wigs and a false air of superiority. To Yana, he was a tyrant and a scoundrel. And the only person who ever showed her a lick of kindness since her mother passed away. If you could call it that. He gave her a job as his servant and paid her with food and board. It kept her off the streets and warm enough to live through the brutal northern months when they were not traveling the trade routes.  

But it was not an easy life. Made even more difficult by the sudden attack.  

The water wagon was begin assaulted by several other members of the caravan, crying for the driver to fill their buckets first. Yana was dimly aware of other tents and wagons catching flame. And then that terrible roar.

It split the air and shook the ground. People were flying away from the wagon, even the driver had abandoned his seat and was running. Belatedly, Yana looked up and saw the dragon’s vestige descend from above, talons as white as porcelain outstretched and yearning…

The bucket left her hands and plunked to the ground. The same ground that was moving away from her feet at an expeditious pace. There was a firm pressure around her middle and arms, an exuberant wall of heat above her and an intake of breathe that held the same likeness of sound as that of a blazing furnace. At first, she was too confused, too shocked, to realize what had happened. A moment void of cognitive understanding until a frigid gust of wind blew right through her, whipping her skirts around her legs, and drawing her back into herself. The dithering void gave way to horrid realization and she screamed.

The sound was carried off by the wind, dropping away from her like a stone. She struggled between the dragon’s talons, pulling at the creature’s fingers in blind futility fueled by primal fear. As unpleasant a notion as falling to her death was, that of being devoured by a giant winged lizard was far more so.

There was a displeased rumble from above her that made her bones vibrate. Movement ahead of her drew her attention and abruptly, she found herself face to face, er – face to snout, with the dragon, features illuminated by moonlight. His reptilian eyes stared at her in a peculiar way. Almost...admonishing? The edges of it’s mouth pulled downward, almost like a frown.

“Stop squirming so much,” the creature said in a voice that was startlingly human in sound. Despite the deep rumblings from his chest, the dragon’s voice was not a deep baritone or gravel sounding, but a soft tenor. “Or I’m libel to drop you.”

Yana starred, mouth agape. He was speaking Yazki. Her language. Not the common tongue spoken by colonials, but pure unaccented Yazki. The beast’s reproachful frown turned upwards slightly, amused. “I also suggest you close your mouth. Else you might catch a bird in there.”

She closed her mouth obediently, but continued to stare. However, the dragon seemed satisfied enough and flew on, giving no more notice to his captive. The shock lingered for a good while, thoughts and miasmic fear churning her insides into liquid and making her feel wholly ill. Somehow, knowing she was dealing with a sapient creature with enough intelligence to know, let alone speak with fluency, such an obscure tongue, made Yana hope she might reason with the dragon. Perhaps she could convince him not to eat her. She was small, too skinny, and surely after spending two months sustaining on hard biscuits and pickled eggs, she would taste ghastly.  

The dragon made for an innocuous ledge under a shallow sloped outcropping, made visible now that the rain clouds had dissipated, giving way to bright moonlight. The relatively small space was dominated by shrubs and brush, but the dragon did not seem to care and landed heavily into the thick of them. The talons released her and she tumbled back into a prickly bush. As she struggled to untangle herself and free her skirts from the groping ends of the shrub’s dry brittle foliage, the dragon rummaged around, poking and prodding and seeming to be searching for something.

“Ah-ha!” he said finally, pulling up from a collection of shrubbery a large sheet of metal mesh, the edges framed by strips of leather while still more leather, thicker and done up with buckles, looped around and connecting at each corner. Again, he delved back into the foliage before pulling up a thick pad, wide and flat, and covered in a well worn red fabric. The edges were worn down and the whites of its inside could be seen from a small tear on one end.

Taking advantage of the dragon’s momentary distraction, Yana removed herself from the bush and crept along the edge of the rocky ledge only to stagger back. They were incredibly high up, more so that she first wagered, and there was no easy slope down to the gully floor, but a sheer drop.

“Best keep back from the edge,” the dragon said in an easy tone. “Be a shame to lose you now after all that work.”

Yana yelped, and ducked for a cover of a large bush, peeking up at the large lizard. He had hopped up to the larger outcropping, a good ten feet above her head, and was struggling with the metal mesh sling. He had one leather strap settled on one shoulder while he fiddled with the buckle of the other one, the mesh square hanging across his chest. Now that she was some distance away from him, she could see his form proper and make out his coloring. From snout to tail, he must have reached an easy forty feet, with forearms close to ten from talon to shoulder. His neck another ten. Scales the color of ripened wheat ran the length of the beast while its chin, chest, and underbelly was a softer, lighter shade like fresh cream.  

At her startled squawking, his attention left the task at hand to her as she fretted beneath the inadequate shelter of a bramble bush and he regarded her curiously. “You do understand what I am saying, do you not?”

She nodded slightly.

“Oh good,” he replied, returning to fixing the leather strap. “I would hate to think I was yammering away uselessly. Good to see you were taught proper language at least.”

Yana did not understand why it would matter to a dragon whether or not his dinner understood him. Perhaps he had a taste for Yazki? Perhaps he held a preference to the tanned flesh of the natives than that of paler pinker colonials.

“We’ll be off again soon,” he told her with a frustrated grunt, pulling on the bands. “Once I fix this damnable strap!”

After another moment of muttered cursing, he seemed satisfied with it and then tucked the old red pad into the sling, sandwiched between the mesh and his chest. The dragon swung his head towards her, looking pleased. “All ready.”

Yana felt her chance to negotiate slipping away and as the Dragon made a move for her, one clawed hand reaching out to her, and she stammered in a high pitched plea, “Y-you don’t have to do this!”

The dragon paused and put his hand down. He looked confused.

“Y-you don’t have to take me anywhere,” she continued, slowly getting to her feet and edging away, mindful of the drop.

“No?” the dragon asked, lips pulling up into a slight smile. “Well, what shall I do with you then?”  

Yana felt a dangerous trembling to her limbs, fear and spent adrenaline having left her legs feeling gummy. “You could...let me go?”

“Let you go?” parroted the dragon as he settled himself down onto the ledge. He draped his forearms over the side, causing small bits of rock to chip off. “After all that work to get you? Would be an awful waste.”

She gulped. The flippant disregard he showed for her sank her meager hopes of escape. The playful glint in his eyes made him seem all the more predatorial. Like a great cat playing with a mouse.  

“And what would you do if I did?” he continued. “Stay here on this ledge? Wait for the vultures and scavengers to pick at you once the elements have torn you down?”

He tutted at her. “Such a shameful waste.”

She had no answer. Somehow, in her mind, she had assumed she would be more sure worded in her arguments. Fight a little harder. In reality, she could not even muster the courage to speak the words ‘please do not eat me’ for she fear that if she did so and he answered her with a rebuttal, all she would have accomplished would be to affirm her fears. And as odd as it was, Yana did not want to be told that she was going to die. No matter how true or certain. So barring that, she could pretend a little. Linger on for whatever time she had left bathed in blissful ignorance.  

The dragon was still watching her in gleaming amusement that turned her face red in anger and resentment. “Well?” he asked when she offered no protest. “Shall we be off?”

She did not answer. Instead she pulled into herself, looking away from the large imposing form of the beast, and tried to keep the tears back. The dragon seemed to mistake her silence for assertion and easily plucked her up from the clinging bramble before slipping her down into the metal mesh rigging he had affixed to his chest. The cushion under her was stiff and old, the passing within compressed from years of use, but it was not uncomfortable. The scales of of the dragon’s chest were smooth and hard and did not pinch her as she would have thought. Overall, it was more pleasant than dangling front his claws.

As they went aloft, she quietly sobbed into the folds of her skirt.

………..

She was jostled awake as the Dragon landed. Her sleep had been deep, but unrefreshing and she felt exhausted and ill and dreadfully cold, despite the warmth from the dragon’s body. The flat stone expanses of the plateau was gone, replaced instead with mountains, shallow slopped and green with a light frost. A frigid mist settled over the valley below.

Yana rocked with the sway of the dragon’s gate, still strapped to his chest. She twisted within the sling, trying to get a better view of where they were just in time to see the mouth of a cave open before them. There was a soft amber glow from within the darkness and as the dragon entered, she could hear muffled voices that abruptly stopped as they approached. The cave was warm, heated by a lit brazier that sat within a large round hole in the ground, some thirty feet wide and eight feet deep. Gathered around brazier were several other people. No, not just people…

...children. Much like her. A few looked her age, a couple younger than her, and one a little older perhaps. But they were all decidedly young, no older than fourteen. There were three boys, all dark haired and tanned skinned. The tallest had a round baby face and was noticeably plumper than the rest. The next boy was rail thin, lanky with a mop of wild and unwielding curls of black hair, wearing a green tunic and brandishing a stick that he had been poking into fire, the ends burnt and smoking. The last was a boy of perhaps nine, small and meek, his face hidden behind tendrils of long black hair secured by a red leather head band. Of the girls, there were two. One looked a little older than Yana, wearing her hair tied back into a neat braid down her back and dressed in a maid’s uniform, the kind worn by those in service to the great houses of Port Yardley. Yana knew the place well, having visited many times as her Master had a sizable portion of his clientele there. The last girl and youngest of them all was a small girl, no older than six or so, dressed in brown rags and silently sobbing. She had the same rough textured black hair as they all did, but her eyes were a startlingly bright blue instead of the warm honey tones of native Yazki. She was mixed. Part Yazki, part colonial.

It made for a bewildering sight and Yana wondered why the dragon had gone to such trouble of collecting Yazki children. Perhaps he hoarded children instead of gold or jewels? Or perhaps he intended to gather enough of them to make a fitting meal. One of them would hardly satiate the appetite of a forty foot dragon, she was certain. They all regarded the approaching creature with open fear, the smallest girl making a strangled sounding wail as the older one tried to comfort her, holding her close and rocking slightly. The boy dressed in green held his smoldering stick like a sword while the two other boys huddled closer to the far wall, not looking at the dragon.

The dragon studied them all, seeming pleased. “Good, you’re all here, then. No more escape attempts?”

He seemed to be speaking to the boy in green, who just glared back and raised his stick. Ignoring the boy, the dragon began to undo the strap at his shoulder and once he had loosened it a bit, he reached into the sling and pulled Yana out. He sat her down at the bottom of the hole with the others, nudging her towards the brazier with one long clawed finger. “Go warm yourself. It won’t do to have you catch ill.”

Yana willingly went to the fire, holding her hands up to the blazing light and allowing the heat to thaw out her chilled fingers. The dragon was thoroughly perplexing and Yana was no longer certain that he intended to eat any of them. Aside from the original snatching, he had given her no true reason to fear him. He had spoken to her with gentle tones and the amusement she had interpreted as being patronizing, but she was no longer sure of her initial assessment. Before she would entertain the idea of asking outright, the dragon had turned away and was gone.

No one spoke to her as she warmed herself, but she did notice that the boy in green was watching her as well as the older girl. But their was no malice in their eyes, only reserved curiosity. The smaller girl had calmed down some now that the dragon was gone and after a little while was fast asleep in the elder girls arms. Sufficiently warmed, Yana chose a spot against the wall and sat down.

“What’s your name?” asked the older girl.

Yana blinked at her for a moment before replying. “Yana.”

“I’m Edee. And this is Olive.”

She nodded, looking down at the sleeping Olive. She did not look peaceful, appearing despaired even in her dreams. They all looked as downtrodden and morose.

“How long do you think he’ll keep us here?” Yana asked, keeping her voice low.

Edee shrugged, looking absently over at the fire, dancing embers reflected in her eyes. “I’ve been here two days.”

“Do you know what...that is, did he say why?” Yana asked, thinking that perhaps one of the other children had been brave enough to ask their captor his intentions.

Edee shook her head. “Not really. He doesn’t tell us much of anything. Just makes sure we’re all accounted for, that we’ve slept, that the fire’s still lit, and we eat whenever he brings food. He gets grouchy when he thinks we haven’t eaten enough.”

Yana frowned at that.

“Got to make sure your cattle are well fed,” muttered the boy in green, poking the ground with the end of his stick. “You want them nice and plump before the slaughter.”

A chill ran down her back. “Is that why we’re here do you think?”

“Of course it is!” he replied acidly, looking up at her. “What else would he need us for? No, he means to fatten us all up. Make better eating of us all. We may be here for a few days, maybe a month. We can’t move about much. All we can do it sit and get fat. Like Anki.”

The largest boy, doughy and round bodied, jerked to attention, glaring at the boy in green. “Stop it Faer.”

“He’ll probably eat him first,” Faer continued on, ignoring the other boy.

“Shut up, Faer,” growled Anki.

“Since he’s plump enough already,” Faer retorted, glancing sidelong at Anki with an expression that made it obvious that the smaller boy was intentionally trying to rouse the larger one. And it worked. With a roar of rage, Anki jumped up and ran at Faer. The two tumbled into the dirt and rolled, fists flying and fingers grabbing hair. Olive had woken up at the kerfuffle and was sobbing again.

“Stop it!” cried the third and smallest boy, rising from the floor and rushing over to his fighting fellows. He started pulling at Faer’s arm, trying to pull him off of Anki. “You’re not helping any. He’s gonna hear you!”

“STOP THAT AT ONCE!” The dragon’s voice was painfully loud and Yana flinched, curling into a ball and clamping her hands over he ears. He loomed over the hole, glaring at the two entangled boys who were now fervently pushing away from each other, sending nervous glances towards the clearly angry lizard. Faer got to his feet first and made to move back to his spot against the wall. However, the dragon reached down and swept the boy up in one large clawed hand, bringing the boy up close to his face, lips pulled back into a sneer and showing off rows of deadly sharp teeth. “What do you mean by this continuous anarchy?”

For a moment, Faer did not seem able to answer, unable to tear his horrified eyese away from the dragon’s mouth, so very close to him now. Yana had scooted closer to Edee, watching on in horror and fully expecting the dragon to kill the boy any moment.

Reptilian eyes narrowed. “I asked you a question.”

“N-nothing! I don’t mean anything!” Faer stammered. “He attacked me first!”

The dragon’s gaze flickered over to Anki for a brief moment, the other boy visibly flinching in resposense. With a humorless huff, the dragon turned back to Faer.  

“Unprovoked as well, I assume?” he asked dryly, one eye ridge tilting upwards. “First that silly escaped attempt and now openly provoking fights? Must I keep you strapped in the harness for the rest of our time here?”

“N-no, sir,” Faer replied, looking pale. “I-I’ll behave.”

The dragon could not look less convinced.

“I promise!” Faer pleaded, squirming fervently. “P-please...”

“You’ve two strikes now, boy,” the dragon replied in clear displeasure. “Best make sure that it does not become three.”

The dragon lowered Faer back down, allowing the boy to scramble away, but followed him with slanted pupils. Faer found a spot well away from the others and sat down, thoroughly cowed and shaken. Looking over his captive audience and sensing the near palpable tension, the dragon sighed, all the ire draining away. “It won’t be long now, children. The others will be here soon and we will be done with this horrid business for good.”

Yana felt ill. His words were very non-reassuring. What horrid business could he mean? It certainly sounded foreboding.

“P-please, sir,” Anki pleaded in a quivering voice. “W-what’s gonna happen to us?”

For the first time, the dragon appeared quite apologetic in his mannerisms. He lowered his head closer to the lip of the hole and when he spoke, his words were soft. “Do not be afraid, children. All will be well. There is much you do not understand as of yet, but you are in no danger. Those demons cannot reach you here. They’ll never hurt you ever again.”

There was a confused murmuring from the children and they exchanged bewildered glances.

“Demons? W-what...what demons?” Yana asked.

“The invaders,” the dragon replied as though it was obvious. “Those...colonials.”

“So,” asked the smaller of the boys, the one with the red headband who had tried to break the fight up. He spoke with reserved expectation, just a spark of hope. “You’re... not gonna eat us?”

At this, the dragon’s head snapped up, neck pulling back as though struck, and his eyes widened into large orbs. Looking thoroughly scandalized, his head turned to each child in turn, lingering a tad longer on Olive as she quietly whimpered into Edee’s chest. His expression was wholly mortified as sudden understanding washed over him. “E-eat you…? Oh, Gods above, no! Is that what has...oh, dear. That’s why you’ve all been so terribly frightened! No. No, dear children, no. That is not why you are here. Not in the least!”

There was a moment of silence as the dragon’s words sunk in and there was a palpable release of tension from them all. Anki burst into relieved tears. The dragon regarded them all sadly, slit pupils widening. “What a fool I am for not seeing, for not thinking of it. I assumed you all would...ah damn it all. Of course you would think that. Of course you would. You do not know the Yazki ways. You see me as the invaders do. A man eating monster.”

Yana was somewhat startled to find herself giggling, running a hand through her hair, and feeling washed in comforting reassurance. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes as her body and mind began to relax.  

“T-then...why? Why did you steal us away? Did we do something wrong?” Edee asked, honey eyes pleading for further understanding.

“No, you’ve done nothing wrong at all,” assured the dragon hurriedly. “In all of creation I daresay there are no creatures as innocent as you lot. As for the rest, I protest your choice of words. If anything I have stolen you back. I have rescued you.”

Yana felt very confused. Rescued? From what?

“What have we been rescued from?” she dared to ask and could not help a small startle as the dragon’s attention turned to her. His eyes narrowed.

“From the invaders!” he replied with fiery ire. “Those kidnappers and murderous devils. They came to our lands years ago, attacked our people, and stole your parents away from us. Made slaves and beasts of burden of them. We have search and schemed and tracked them across the continent, but for many of them, we were too late. The six of you are all that is left of the original seventeen who were lost to us. We did not, could not, rest until every person with even a hint of Yazki blood was returned to us. We’ve waited many years for this moment, for you all to finally be delivered home to us, to our people.”

Relived that she was not destined to become the dragon’s dinner, Yana was no less confused. Rather, now she was very much bemused as to what the dragon was referring. She knew her mother and father had been captured by colonials and sold into service, but...what was all this talk of them being of the same people? As far as she knew her own heritage, dragons were not Yazki and Yazki were not dragons.

“...are dragons and Yazki...friends?” Yana ventured.  

The dragon looked confused and perhaps a little insulted. “My dear, girl. I am Yazki. Just as you are.”

She turned this bit of information around in her head, repeating it and still she found it incomprehensible. “I...I do not understand.”

The dragon grumbled something under his breath, but she did pick out a few choice words. “You will in time. Perhaps when the others arrive, they can explain it in terms that I cannot. But yes. I am Yazki. Head of the Zolto family. Each of the five families have sent along a winged clansmen to bare you home to our valley. In fact, they should be arriving by midday.”

#story #dragons #gt #g/t #kidnapped maidens #and boys #yazki #an unconventional homecoming