#you cannot even imagine the things I have seen as a rescuer and so many of those horrors could have been prevented by people following

[housewifebuck]

Do you have any unpopular and/or strong opinions about car care? Products people get or don’t when they should?

I’m in the freaking out about getting a cat soon stage lol

🩵💜🩵💜

hiiii<3 congratulations you have pressed my special interest button! I have extremely strong opinions on proper cat care from the perspective of a rescuer since every day I am faced with cleaning up the messes of people who do NOT take care of their cats properly. I am putting everything under the cut since this will include mentions of animal abuse/neglect etc. And also it’s going to be very long I fear.

First and foremost as I’m sure you will soon be able to tell animal welfare is something I am very very passionate about. Rescue work is my entire life. These are all things I have had to repeat over and over to people who just don’t care/don’t get it and so if some of it sounds aggressive that is NOT directed at you (Michal) 😭 I’m talking to the royal you here since this is advice for everybody.

the most important thing in the world is to make sure your cat is FIXED. if she is coming from a rescue she likely already is, but if shes not, make sure you have an appointment set up to get it + rabies and FVRCP vaccines done asap (I also recommend getting the feline leukemia vaccine, which is not usually done in house by rescues). I would even make the appointment now if you know when you are bringing her home. on top of preventing countless health issues down the road, it will also keep her from reproducing if she ever accidentally gets outside. not only is that awful for the mom cat but we already have enough homeless kittens out there tyvm. PS this is just as important for male cats.

speaking of which, do not let your pet cat free roam outside*. Ever. here is a handy article outlining just a few of the many many reason why it is a terrible and irresponsible thing to do. I dont care if you think you live in a low risk area, or if your cat seems to want to get outside, or if you've had outdoor cats before with no issue. I have had to scrape countless dead cats out of the roadway after being hit by cars because their owners let them outside. Rat poison (very commonly found around peoples houses and in trash cans), if ingested, will literally cause an animal to exsanguinate and die in agony. Other stray cats in the area could be carrying FIV/FeLV or worse. If any of your neighbors grow lilies and your cat brushes against one and licks the pollen from their fur, they will die. There’s just so many reasons to keep your cats indoors I could go on about this forever. if you absolutely must take your cat outside either leash train them (properly, dont just take them out on a leash for the first time and expect them to be okay with it) or get a kitty stroller. But there are PLENTY of ways to keep your cat enriched and entertained indoors. Cat trees, shelves, bird feeders outside, interactive toys, treat dispensers, just to name a few. Go on chewy.com and just browse. They have an excellent selection and great customer service. Another alternative is building a catio! Just make sure your cat receives regular flea/tick treatment year round.

avoid the hell out of those backpack carriers with the clear plastic windows. those are terrifying for cats to be in they feel completely exposed and the ventilation is shit. get a proper hard sided (plastic) carrier. I recommend one with two doors (one on the front and one on top, otherwise known as a top loading carrier). When you travel outside or in the car be sure to cover the carrier with a towel or blanket. This calms them down a lot. The reasons I recommend against soft/mesh carriers are: they are impossible to clean or sanitize if your cat has an accident (very common in the car) or contracts an infectious disease, they provide no protection in the event of being dropped or if you are in a car accident or if you run into a cat-aggressive dog in the vet waiting room, and especially anxious cats can and will fight their way out of them and having a terrified cat loose in your car on your way to the vet is extremely dangerous for both of you.

Expect your new cat to be scared and shy for a few days-to-weeks, minimum. This isn’t always the case, but it is more often than not. I have had so many cats returned for not being friendly enough right away because adopters were too impatient to wait. It takes cats time to decompress in a new environment. I recommend keeping your new cat in a separate room like a bathroom or small bedroom for the first few days so a) it is less overwhelming and b) once you allow them access to the rest of the house, that room will be their “safe space” to retreat to. Also normal when a cat has experienced an environmental shift are: mild vomiting and/or diarrhea (I recommend keeping the cat on whatever diet they have been fed previously and doing a slow transition to your food of choice, + add in probiotics. Proviable and Fortiflora are two brands I like, both available on chewy), hiding in one place for the first 24ish hours, and occasionally stress induced urinary issues such as UTIs. To best avoid the latter make sure their litter box is somewhere they can get to easily without encountering any human or animal traffic. But don’t put it next to their food/water obviously.

And speaking of food/water! Cats tend not to like their food to be right next to their water. I recommend placing the dishes a few feet away at least if not in separate areas of the room. Also, cats by nature do not drink enough water usually so some amount of wet food in their diet is pretty important, and water fountains/bubblers also help get them to drink more. Chronic dehydration can cause urinary issues and more. Dry food is better for their teeth but higher in carbs and a dry-only diet often leads to an overweight cat, and wet food can cause plaque buildup faster but has a much higher moisture content. A balance of both is ideal. Avoid raw diets as well as these food brands: Hartz**, kit & caboodle, meow mix, friskies.

If you keep houseplants, be very very careful. Cats are curious and love to chew on anything that smells like nature and will go out of their way to do so, but a LOT of common houseplants are toxic to cats (for example, every part of the Lily flower, if ingested and not treated immediately, will kill your cat within a day). The ASPCA has a database online to search for plants and see if they are toxic or not.

The rule of thumb with litter boxes is 1 per cat +1. So if you have one cat, you need a minimum of 2 litter boxes, preferably in separate rooms of the house. Corners and secluded areas with little foot traffic are ideal. Make sure the box is the length of your cat standing up + about 6 inches for ideal comfort. Avoid “lightweight” litter; it’s super dusty and very fine and can irritate both your lungs and your cat’s lungs.

Stay on top of your annual vet exams. Even if your cat seems perfectly healthy it’s better safe than sorry, and having a good rapport with your veterinarian makes it much easier to deal with them in the event of an emergency. And on that topic, make sure you know where your local ER vets are + their hours and phone numbers. Cats are tough and resilient but they are also fragile and stupid.

*obviously different rules may apply if your cat is feral or semi feral and cannot live happily indoors. It is not typically a good idea to try and force a feral/working cat to be strictly indoors before they’re ready. But a regular domestic pet cat does not ever “need” to be outside, nor is it cruel to keep them in. This doesn’t always stop them from being interested though, so be careful around doors until you know how your cat will behave around them.

**while the other brands are just low in nutrients, high in filler byproducts, and just overall not super healthy, Hartz brand products (especially their flea and tick medication and shampoos) have been known to straight up kill peoples pets. Like, a LOT. I have seen this happen countless times. Everyone I know who’s ever used a Hartz product has a horror story about it. Do not ask me how they’re still in fucking business.

Honestly that’s all I can think of off the top of my head but I’m sure I’m forgetting some stuff. If you have any specific questions you can hit me up, I don’t mind! Part of my job as a rescuer is educating the public so this is information I am very happy to share. Congrats on your new kitty and good luck!!!!

#catposting #I know some people are gonna disagree with some of this and I honestly don’t care #you cannot even imagine the things I have seen as a rescuer and so many of those horrors could have been prevented by people following #this advice #so yes feel free to send follow up questions or whatever but I’m not going to debate any of this with anyone #asks #office hours

[libbee]

Dangers of the Abyss

Intro = Does this image stir something in you? Some emotion, thought, memory? Perhaps fear. What we cannot express in words, we express in symbols and images. Images are not mere pixels but they are emotionally charged and they exist in our minds too. After all, our eyes are like cameras, mind is like camera film, memory is like storage space. The unconscious world can be accessed via your mental images, fantasies, visions, dreams, thoughts, emotions, memory. Some of the tools we use to explore the unconscious are writing, art, active imagination, tarot cards and alchemy. Some of the ways we know unconscious exists is synchronicities, projection and spiritual awakenings.

World of the unconscious = Few things are as tempting as exploring the 4th, 8th and 12th houses in astrology. Especially when you find yourself at the outskirts of healing, you are sucked into these areas of life and may lose touch with the material world. When the native is so engrossed in spiritual work or shadow work that they are obsessed with it and do it compulsively everyday, that is when you know that they have crossed the limits of what is healthy for them. Astrology, spirituality, occult, esoteric and mysticism (for eastern audience), new age tools (for western audience) can be very tempting in times of turbulence. This is why when life is out of control (eg, divorce or break up, disease or accident, money or career problems) we run to astrologers/psychics/healers, even if we were atheist or anti-theist otherwise. What is unseen, intangible and unknown resides in the unconscious and these 3 houses in astrology are the mining holes for the unconscious. They represent the collective unconscious, personal unconscious (or the subconcious mind) and bringing them to the light of the day is called awareness/enlightenment.

3. Curious case of Friedrich Nietzsche = Though history does not report why Nietzsche went insane, many report (including Carl Jung) that Nietzsche went so far into self exploration that he could not come back to the material life. That he went so deep into the unconscious that he could not pull himself out of it and completely submerged with the unconscious. Do you see how dangerous it is to do shadow work? Though whether Nietzsche could be reborn or not is not something we can decide, for it was his life path and his destiny. Though he lost himself in the darkness, at least he wrote some great books, at least he excavated some pearls from the ocean for the rest of us. It is to be noted that Nietzsche had ketu/south node in the 7th house which can signify his unsuccessful love life, solitude/loneliness and also had sun in the 12th house.

"...Nietzsche would be just about as grateful to his rescuers as somebody who has jumped into the water to drown himself and has been pulled out by some fool of a coastguard. I have seen Nietzsche in states in which he seemed – horrible to say – as though he were only pretending to be mad, as though he were glad to have ended this way!” Peter Gast, The Madness of Nietzsche by Erich Podach

4. We the regulars = But we the regular, the common, the laymen people who cannot afford to be lost in the unconscious world, who have school/college/job, family/relations/marriage, money/food/shelter to take care - we need a foundation to navigate the material life alongside the spiritual life. Unless you are an ascetic sitting in a cave, browsing tumblr in your lunch break before the 10 hour meditation session, we know that you have a full life with many dimensions to take care of. And it is for those of us to learn to balance the material and spiritual life

5. Doing it alone = Whether a therapist or a family member or a friend or a loved one, anyone who can keep you grounded in the real world, bring you back to the daily life, keep you rational when you are losing touch with reality and guide you when you are losing track can be helpful. Though shadow work is a solitary process, we still need somebody else to give us objective judgment, tell whether we are biased in our judgment and guide us with their own wisdom and experience. This is why 4th/8th houses also deal with generations, ancestors, inheritance, history because it is only by standing upon the shoulder of the giants that you can make progress in your life. We may think we know it all intuitively/alone, but the more we learn the more we discover how little we know. "Learn from the mistakes of others, you can't live long enough to make them all yourself." - Chanakya, Indian polymath

6. Psychic content is reality = I am very fond of this interview of Carl Jung. What Jung meant to say here is that the events of psyche are as real as the material life. For instance, if you celebrate your birthday on a certain date with your friends, you call it reality. But if you think about celebrating your birthday with your friends, you call it daydream and not reality. This is where Jung says that even the world in your mind is as real and valid as the world outside. So whether you celebrate your birthday in physical world or mental world, both are equally valid and real. So, when the mental world is as encompassing, satisfying and real as the physical world, it is very easy and tempting to spend your whole life in the mind. In the modern world, the addiction to social media, internet, video games and T.V. is similar to living in your mind (unless you are using technology to do your job and make money).

7. Being clueless and inexperienced = The baby witches often ask minute questions on spells, tools and energy. Do you work in coven or are you a solitary witch? Are you a family astrologer or the first in your family? Do you visit a psychologist or do your own therapy in your journal? If the answer to all these questions is the latter of the two, then you may have begun from a place where you were clueless, inexperienced and confused. Perhaps you learned from trial and error, perhaps you did hours of research, perhaps you felt like you were not meant for it, but what we do know is that being clueless and inexperienced in the world of the unconscious can have serious drawbacks and dangers. The most dangerous is the mental and emotional impact of practices that do not make your life better rather pull you in a rut.

8. Solutions = Solutions are very simple, so simple that we may dismiss it, but learning to keep a balance between material life (school/college/self care/job/ family/responsibilities) and the spiritual life (shadow work/alchemy/exploring the unconscious/self actualization) is crucial. Next solution is to be able to identify the psychic contents with mindfulness and living in the present moment - this comes with practice, perhaps months or years of practice before one can calm down the restlessness to stay mindful. Next solution is to really understand your mental process. Mind is a beautiful thing, do not deal with it lightly. Just like you would arrange, clean, organize, beautify your physical space, you also have to arrange, organize and keep your mental space neat and clean. Next solution is to what I mentioned earlier in a post to keep marking mistakes and correct decisions for yourself, to use reasoning, logic, common sense, decision making, routine (rather than be emotional thinker, magical thinker, impulsive and reckless). In short, think BEFORE you act and not the vice versa. The exploration of the unconscious is systematic and organized, it is not careless and impulsive.

9. Conclusion = So, if you are a first generation astrologer or witch or healer or trauma cycle breaker, be very vigilant of your limits and structure. I have written about psychosis before which can induce when the native is not mentally prepared for the psychological adventure of healing and actualization. Psychoanalysis, spiritual practices and occult practices are parallels to each other and if you feel like you are called into any of these interests, please make sure you have your physical life in order, lest you want to reach rock bottom again and again. I am speaking from experience that being first time clueless healer, psychoanalysis made my life even more complicated instead of magically improving it. I thought I had hit rock bottom in physical life but I did not know yet that even rock bottom has a basement that I hit with clueless psychoanalysis and spiritual practices. It was like this diagram for me:

It felt like I was making great progress with shadow work and psychoanalysis, it felt like I hit the jackpot and all my problems would be explained/solved but it took me a lot of time to realize that it takes immense responsibility to tackle the world of the unconscious and it is not mere for fun and games, rather it can really disturb your life and make you dysfunctional in the material world.

#astro tumblr #dark astrology #astrology blog #astro notes #astrology #astro community #astro observations #astroblr #astrology community #astrology notes #astrology observations #astronotes #Youtube

[cybernaght]

Lost Tomb Reboot aka Reunion: The Sound of Providence Season 2

I swear I wasn’t actually planning to write this thing, instead just opting for random picture spams of the season, starting with every time this show got Zhu Yilong’s Wu Xie wet, because that was a trend I had not expected and kind of lived for.

All that will still happen eventually, but here’s also my five cents on the season, because it is very very important for you to know just how worthy of love it is. 

You see, Season 1 was silly and fun, and definitely, undeniably, enjoyable. 

Then Season 2 swooped in, and completely won my heart. I cannot even express how much I adored it. Everything about this show is extremely extra in the best possible way; it is likely to have been the most charmingly over the top thing I have ever seen.

(Vague spoilers for : specific monsters, narratively significant moments, fate of the certain characters, including the protagonist.)

Some of it comes from the pace, which speeds up dramatically early in the season, and only slows down marginally to allow characters some breathing room. It’s not just gripping because it makes you want to hit play on the next episode, it also keeps you engaged because you can’t wait to see how the next wild set of events may be resolved and then topped. At about episode ten I was questioning how they could possibly produce a sense of further escalation. At episode twenty, I was wondering if anything can top dramatic impact of whatever was occurring only two thirds of the way through the season. 

I need not have worried: every single incredible character moment, every mind-boggling turn of the plot, every single bizarre threat would be blown out of water by the next one. 

Partly, this seemingly has to do with the writers attempts to ground the material. I am not sure what the novel contained, but I can discern that it was something along the lines of ghosts, ghouls and various supernatural circumstance. But when you are told  “this is a curse”, your reaction is naturally to go, “ah okay, so curses are a thing, and this is one of them, gotcha”. When you are told, “this is a heavy metal poisoning combined with a neurotoxin affecting the victim’s central nervous system and making them violently hallucinate”, your reaction is to question whether this is how metals, toxins, poisons, or, indeed, central nervous systems work in any version of reality. 

The show does this a lot. From human shaped swarms of killer moths, to flying brain-penetrating eels, to probably my favourite monster of the moment: the murder clams.

Seriously, I cannot stress enough that this show has murder clams. They move with their clam mussels. They jump with their clam shells. They will murder you in cold blood. 

There are ancient “laser corridor” style set-ups, there are shapes made out of fog recording its memory, there are group hallucinations generated by the sound of thunder, there are Mission Impossible style full face masks. There is a character who walked off a gun wound and sarin gas poisoning in order to die in the arms of his lover who looks like his dead sister. And by “looks like” I mean, “played by the same actress”. 

There is a whole character of Doctor Churros, who saves our hero from imminent death by washing his lungs with oil. 

This, I suppose, ultimately, is how The Lost Tomb Reboot (Season 2 in particular) lures you in. It turns what I saw as the show’s fault in season 1 into its biggest strength by establishing the world in which nothing is too outlandish and everything is possible. It so thoroughly breaks your expectations barometer, you grow to willingly accept whatever is thrown at you. 

The most beautiful thing about all of it, is that the fun and games and moments of barely controlled hysteria do not lower the stakes whatsoever. Moreover, somehow this show makes me believe that it could just about do something as irrevocable as, perhaps, killing off the protagonist 

You know how you can watch, say, a super hero film, and then the “all is lost” moment happens, and you kind of have to struggle to care because you know that they will pull through. It’s curious to see how that happens, but you don’t doubt for even second that it will. Well, when that moment arrived here, I found myself between ugly sobbing, and going into speculation overdrive to try and figure out how the Reboot would deal with that. By then I have seen that show be an high octave action movie, a supernatural mystery, a horror thriller, a buddy comedy and a spy flick: it was not a massive stretch to imagine it turning into a revenge tragedy.

Wu Xie dying had been building up since episode one, so you had hours and hours and oh-so-many hours to brace for it, and when the tragedy does not strike, the relief is visceral. 

Despite all the moments of hilarity (whether intended or otherwise), despite the chaotic turns of the plot, despite how utterly off the charts this show is tonally, when it matters, the narrative is pulled together in a way which not only makes complete sense within the world of the series, but is meticulously set-up, satisfying resolved, and delivers lovely emotional impact. Considering that the moral of the story is a very common “live in the moment”, paired up with “greed is bad”, it was surprising how much resonance its delivery actually created. 

Ultimately, however, this show is about found family, and, more specifically, about Wu Xie’s ability to create this family for himself and for every single member of it. He starts as one of the trio, and ends as one of a large group of old allies, new friends, and people he has graced with so much kindness that they follow him until the bitter end. 

Lost Tomb Reboot ensures that you get to know them all, and it’s pretty damn hard to not love this misfit group of adventurers in its entirety. 

(The only thing I could say is that I wish the series spent more time making sure the viewer knows and likes Zhang Qiling, but it seemingly had little purpose for him apart form sweeping in as an avenging angel every now and then. I get that he is a well established character in the series, and that his whole thing is being deadly and enigmatic, but considering that you got to know the other two legs of the famous Triangle so well, it’s a shame that this one was reserved to mostly being Xiao Ge Ex Machina. It would have been nice to know what he was about apart from “really damn cool”.)

Bai Haotian remained my favourite character. She is cute, sweet, romantic, and, for the lack of a better word, “girly”. She is not shy about her crush on Wu Xie, and is prepared to do a lot of reckless, dangerous things for him. None of the above undermine her intelligence, cunningness and authority. Xiao Bai is a young woman in a position of power, and she absolutely knows how to handle herself; for every time she is a damsel in distress, she gets to be the rescuer. For every time she puts herself in needless danger, she learns to collect herself and plan ahead. For every time she is bossed around, she turns and takes charge. Her journey is not the centred around getting the guy, but around discovering her self-assertion; she finds her place within his team not by being a romantic interest, but through her personal strengths. 

My absolutely favourite moment for her came when an antagonist used her affection for Wu Xie to get an upper hand on her, and she gets restrained, knife to her throat. Xiao Bai swivels away, knocks the attacker out and goes to town kicking him, to a great astonishment of this team, as she states that liking someone does not make her weak. 

And it doesn’t. Being in love has nothing to do with weakness or strength. Being a young, and excitable, and a woman does not equate to weakness either.

I’m not saying that this show is a feminist manifesto, because it is definitely not that. Every other prominent female character suffers a pitiful fate in service of creating motivation for the men of the story. But it does spend a lot of time making sure you, the viewer, know its heroes well enough to mentally befriend them. And if this means giving the female lead complexity, I cannot possibly be mad at that. 

So, this was it. This was the Lost Tomb Reboot. It brought me a ridiculous amount of joy and I will miss it a lot. 

And yes, the picture spams will be 100% an excuse to rewatch at least some of it. 

PS. Said spams miiiiight be gif based if I figure out a way to colour correct the damn things. 

#lost tomb reboot #reunion: the sound of the providence #review of sorts #now with gifs #the gifs are bad though

[quarterlifecrisisandconfessions]

Love is all we need.

I haven’t posted in here in a while but I need to get this out. This last year has been so challenging for all of us. I can’t think of a single person that will look back on the year 2020 (and maybe even 2021) and have much more to say about it than “I made it”. 

I’ll go a step further and say “we made it”. Because in the end, most of us did. Perhaps some of us made it hanging by a tiny thread, but we did make it.

But that isn’t the point of this post. I watched a movie today. It was called “Breakthrough”. You may have seen it. You may not have. It’s one of those ‘feel good’ movies. A lot of people would call it one of those “Christian movies”. I am one of those ‘a lot of people’. I tend to avoid those movies because my feelings about Christianity aren’t that popular these days. Organized religion in general - but again, not the point of this post.

I am so glad I watched the movie because for me it was so much more than that. I think that many people have their own, personal beliefs when it comes to faith. When it comes to a higher power. Even when it comes to miracles. 

**SPOILER ALERT** Do not read if you haven’t seen the movie and want to. Carry on if you have or don’t care to be spoiled.

In the movie, a young boy falls into an icy lake when he and his friends were playing. He is underwater for roughly 20 minutes before he is rescued. As you can imagine, he was without a pulse when he was pulled from the icy water. His rescuer heard his Captain say ‘go back’ when they were close to giving up the rescue mission. That’s when they found him.

At the emergency room, they tried everything medicine and science and technology has given us but could not restore the boy’s pulse. His mother arrives and is told to say goodbye. She prayers over her son’s body. She demands that the Spirit give life back to her son. And his heart begins to beat.

You can call it what you want. A God thing. A miracle. A coincidence. A fluke. You can explain it with science. Perhaps the cold water caused his heart rate to slow down to the point that his body was merely frozen and had to be warmed up to wake up. 

He was transferred to a Children’s hospital where the specialist there gave grave news to the parents. This grave news came from his experience with these situations and what he had seen with his own two eyes. It came from his training, his education. From a Physician’s point of view, should the boy wake up, he would be neurologically impaired. And that’s just if he woke up. Most people know that when the heart isn’t beating or you aren’t breathing for an extended period of time, the organs shut down. Your body and brain are deprived of a necessary ingredient - oxygen. So, science says: this boy will not survive. 

Guess what? The boy survived. All of the things that were supposed to happen with his body based on science, experience, training....happened. Then, he woke up. And he was himself. 

Believe it or not, though, it wasn’t the miracle that moved me. It wasn’t the coincidence or the fluke. 

It was the love. It was the people questioning how this happened. It was the firefighter who heard his Captain say “go back” find out that his Captain never said a word, though he knew without a doubt he heard “go back”. This firefighter doesn’t believe in God but he know what he heard.

And one thing I love about the movie is that they didn’t push that issue. They didn’t make it into the firefighter learning to believe in God. You don’t have to believe in God to believe in miracles. 

Call him hearing “go back” what you want. Call it intuition. Call it luck. Call it a fluke. Call it a miracle. Call it fate. Or, if you’re like me, call it God. I don’t really care what you call it. I have experienced something similar to this more than enough times to know its existence and I think, in some form, most of us have, whether we know how to elaborate it or want to admit it.

The movie does portray the power of prayer. And that was another thing I loved. If you grew up in the church as I did, you learned that prayer was bowing your head and clasping your hand and speaking to God.

In other practices, prayer comes in a much different form. Catholics have a routine for prayer. Muslims do as well. Buddhists don’t necessarily ‘pray’ in the sense of the word. But even those who don’t believe in God, believe in a form of prayer in a less-literal sense. 

The movie really portrays the the universal form of prayer is just love. If you think of every form of religion or spirituality, there’s always some form of literature that talks about love. In the Bible, it says “Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance (1 Corinthians 13:7).

Buddha said “radiate boundless love towards the entire world”.

Love is translated so many different ways. But one thing is true. Love is powerful. If you don’t believe in God, you believe in Love. 

In the movie, Joyce Smith (Chrissy Metz from This is Us) said “I think it’s been said that love is the most powerful force on this Earth.....without love, we cannot grow, we cannot flourish. We cannot find our place in this world. The power of love, especially God’s love, is truly the one thing that makes all things possible”. (That is a paraphrase)

That part really moved me. It really hit me in my heart. The thing about it was our love IS God’s love. Our love is the most powerful force on this Earth. Love moves mountains. It was love that saved that boy’s life. It is love that keeps us moving on the daily. 

I want to personally thank everyone who has ever loved me. Whether you knew it or I knew it, the love you gave me kept me going. I have so many friends and family that struggle with a relationship with religion or God or whatever but they still give and feel love, and that keeps them going. That keeps them grounded. Because love is everything. Love IS religion. We don’t need a book or a movie to show us that, not really. It is a nice reminder though.

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.12

A Special Delivery

10/26/2019

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader         Word Count: 5,520

Warnings: talk of sex, angst, jealousy, violent images, language

A/N: I will come back and add tags after I eat. I’m hungry. And tags take forever. This one will answer a few of the questions I’ve been getting. The next one will answer more. I hope you like it. Let me know what you all think! I read EACH and EVERY comment. There have been a lot lately and I haven’t been able to respond to all of them but be aware that I see them. I read them. I love them. They mean so much. Thank you! If you happen to reblog, thanks for helping me spread my work.

Tags are CLOSED for this story!

Steve watches you lay there, face lacking its usual color, eyes shut to the world, mouth slightly open. His nerves frayed and his mind swirling with all of the possible things that might go wrong.

As Natasha fusses to get your dress open, she turns to him and your rescuer where he hovers also watching you with concern.

“Some privacy, your Majesties, if you please?” She gives Steve a stern look and he nods, eyes moving past her frown to your unconscious face.

“The doctor is on his way, Nat. Can you-?” Steve begins.

“As soon as he’s seen her, I will come find you.” She promises, a little exasperated. “Go, Steve. I’ll take care of her.”

“And her legs, and her…when you undress her, check her all over Nat, make sure she’s doesn’t have a single scratch.” Steve’s voice rises in pitch a little, frantic energy seeping through the calm he’s been trying to maintain.

“Steve,” Nat’s eyes soften as she pauses untying your dress. “I’ve got her. Alright? I’ll be thorough. Go.”

With a nod Steve turns, eyeing the King of Asgard up before he clears his throat to get his attention.

“Your Majesty?” Steve coaxes, voice back to normal, his calm façade a little better in place.

The King of Asgard sighs heavily, turning away from you without meeting Steve’s eyes and heads out into the dark empty hallway.

Steve follows. When he reaches the hallway, he pauses for a moment, just long enough to meet the thunder god’s eyes.

“Can we speak in my office?” Steve asks.

Thor gestures down the hall with one massive hand. “Lead the way, your Majesty.”

As the God smirks, Steve narrows his eyes a bit, trying to understand the sharp edge to his tone.

His office is not far. Just at the other end of the hall, connected to his separate quarters. He hasn’t been sleeping in it since you left him and has elected to sleep by your empty bed, sitting in that chair you like to sit in when you sew.

Of course, only Natasha and Peter have caught him in there. Bucky knows because he knows everything that Steve does, even while he’s been out helping Sam look for you.

The office is not tidy. His papers are scattered across his desk, but he has no idea what is on them or which ones are important. He’s had no time to pay them any mind.

Sure, he tried to get some work done, but every time he did your sobbing face popped back up in his mind and he found himself unable to get any work done.

He waits for Thor to follow him in, then shuts the door behind him. He moves to the fire and grabs a long iron rod to stoke the fire and bring back the warmth, his hands visibly shaking despite the composure he seems to have.

“I think I should thank you.” Steve begins. “Where did you find her? How long has she been with you?”

Thor scoffs.

Steve blinks, considering the reaction to his words then puts the poker back before turning to look at Thor. Brow furrowed, he stares at him, watching as the God’s hands tighten around the back of the chair in front of his desk.

He’s looking down at the seat but not really seeing it. He’s preoccupied, remembering something that’s clearly upset him while shaking his head, a bitter laugh on his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I know that you don’t wish to speak of it, little bird, but I must ask. Did Steve force you?” You’re walking ahead of him, swinging your arms—so carefree, he almost hates to bring this up.

You stop, reaching down to feel the edge of his red cape which he’s ashamed to admit he’s grown fond of seeing you wrapped up in.

Your head tilts down to the ground and you kick a stone that flitters off towards another larger rock where it hits without moving it.

“No.” You sigh. “He didn’t force me but…I don’t know it all felt very—not like what happened the other night.”

He’s not ashamed for touching you…well, maybe a bit. You are his friend’s wife after all, but the idea of you not knowing the bliss that can come from sharing your body with someone. Especially someone you love?

Maybe he’s just a romantic—he misses Jane—but to him, there is nothing more sacred than the shared pleasure, that ethereal connection with someone you care deeply about.

“I’m sorry if I-” He begins, worried that he might have done something you had not wanted.

You hadn’t asked it of him though he could sense your curiosity, the wonder.

And you’re so perfect. So beautiful. How could he resist? His Jane so very far away unsure of her desire to commit. You already so invested in your marriage while Steve pushes you away.

If it had been him, he’d have loved you fiercely after quickly realizing just how wonderful you were. It only took him hours to see it. How can Steve not see it?

“You didn’t.” You assure him, turning to look at him but you don’t smile. You’re ashamed. Sad that you enjoyed yourself though you shouldn’t be. “But I shouldn’t have let you.”

You think for a moment, then smile at him and his heart skips a beat.

“It was only really hard the first two times. The first because it hurt. I’d never been with a man before and his Majesty wanted to get it over with, I think.” Your smile falters. “I’m not his M-”

You don’t seem to be able to say her name.

“I’m not her, so it must have been nauseating for him to be with me in that way. I thought maybe he did like me a little. He was so receptive.

“I was in a lot of pain that first time. That whole week. A part of the second but his Majesty was gentler. Kinder. At least in bed. He never stayed. I slept alone.”

The loneliness in your voice is shattering. It breaks his insides apart, guts him and spills his squiggly red innards.

“I’m grateful.” You tell him to his astonishment.

Your wind whips in the breeze, his red cape drawn more tightly around your body as you snuggle into it, relishing in the warmth it gives. It’s colder in these forests but soon the warmth of Broklin will return.

“When it stopped hurting, I stopped crying. His Majesty was always more bothered when I cried.

“I know that Steve may not be showing you his good qualities at the moment. He’s much more than the man you know. I know you don’t want to hear about her anymore but…Margaret and Steve shared a love like I have never seen.

“They knew each other in and out. My love for Jane can only compare so far. They were born in the same year. They shared the same friends. Same passions. They grew together, shaped each other, they were the closest that I have seen any pair to being one soul split between two bodies. Steve thought he would have her until the day he died.

“He never expected her to go first.” Thor licks his lips, watching as his words crush your heart.

He hates to do it to you, but for the sake of your marriage, you must hear it.

“I know that he loves her very much, Thor.” You nearly sob, looking away from him but he crosses the distance between you and takes your shoulders in hand.

“No, little bird. You don’t. There are many varieties of love and the love that Steve and Margaret shared is the rarest of all. She became a part of him and he of her. If she was troubled, he knew it without needing to ask. If he was injured, she felt it in her bones.” Thor explains. “I saw it for myself.”

You don’t want to hear but picturing them together now feels different. It doesn’t hurt as much. Not in the way it’s been hurting. Not like jealousy.

“Imagine someone ripping out a piece of what makes you the person you are, and you will know what Steve has been suffering. He is not himself little bird. That’s all I mean by this. He will come to his senses and he will bitterly regret the mistakes he’s made with you.

“He will be eager to make amends and right his wrongs. Steven Rogers is not a bad man.” Thor promises. “Only a broken one. I cannot say whether he will ever be whole again, perhaps you will be able to help him-”

“I don’t want to replace her.” You frown. “I’ve never wanted to do that. All I wanted was a chance to know him. I love him…I’ve seen him be himself before. I’ve seen him open up. But never with me. I want it to be with me, Thor.”

Thor squeezes your shoulders. “He will. I guarantee it.”

“He doesn’t even care that I’m gone.” You look down at his chest and he draws you in for a reassuring embrace.

“Trust me, little bird, anyone who has known you would miss you.”

“It’s not his fault, Thor.” You say, not hearing him. “I’m just…not enough. I’m not who I said I am. I’m no one. He deserves more.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Did I say something amusing?” Steve wonders confused by the King of Asgard’s rudeness.

He’s never done anything but be civil with him and his Kingdom. They’ve forged peace treaties and partnership in trade. Had he forgotten to renew one?

“You think you should thank me? For bringing her back?” Thor looks up at him, seeing through him, back from whatever memory he’d been lost in.

Steve doesn’t like it. He shifts uncomfortably then moves towards his desk.

“Yes. Thank you for keeping her safe.” Steve tells him.

“I did not do it for you.” Thor assures him. “Let me ask you something, Steven—”

For a moment, Steve’s heart feels lighter. Thor hasn’t called him that since they were boys together planning how they would each rule their kingdoms. Dreaming big and ready for the challenge. Steve had been more reluctant, but he’d grown to love the idea with Thor to understand the responsibilities that came with such a job.

“—do you suppose your new wife is happy?” Thor moves to sit down in the seat he’s been standing behind, leaning back with his legs spread open.

It’s an undignified pose but normal for him. Steve takes no offense. In fact, he sits down himself and leans back, relaxing for the first time in weeks.

“I…” Steve thinks fast. Your pretty face, tears streaking across the swell of your cheeks, lip trembling, sobs ripping through your throat all fill his mind again. “No. I don’t suppose she is.”

“She was a virgin when you took her.”

“Yes. I think so.” Steve nods.

“That wasn’t a question. I am telling you because she told me.” Thor lets that sink in.

Steve stares at his old friend, considering the hard set of his eyes, the tick of his jaw. Thor’s angry. This sets Steve on edge. It makes him defensive.

“She told me many things.” Thor continues. “And I gave her comfort. I think I should own up to that now. You see, your wife had no idea that laying with a man might be pleasurable. She assumed that it was always to be painful or unrewarding.

“In all the time I have known you, old friend, I have never suspected you to be as ungenerous as she made you seem.”

“I…” Steve begins, but Thor doesn’t let him finish.

“I will say my piece and then you may respond.” Thor orders and this makes Steve bristle.

Him? Being ordered in his own castle? In his own office?

“Thor-”

“I had her.” He states, a small shrug thrown Steve’s way. “Not completely. Just enough to show her what love might feel like.”

“You what?” Anger like he’s never known sets his blood to boil and Steve must remind himself that Thor is his friend. That laying a hand on him in this moment would bring about war. Seeing past the red haze is difficult.

“I couldn’t believe my ears when she laughed in my face and told me that sex hadn’t and shouldn’t feel good. She said she’d wait until you’re finished and then do as the doctors ordered to ensure she became pregnant. She told me that the pain finally stopped. That finally it didn’t hurt, and she was very happy, because it meant that you could bed her, and she would no longer cry.

“Did her crying upset you?” Steve watches him drag his plump lower lip through his teeth, glaring at the long-haired blonde, wishing he could rid himself of the urge to sink his dagger into his chest. “I’m surprised it took her so long to leave you.”

“Where do you get off-?”

“I said I would say my piece.” Thor says calmly, but his eyes flash bright blue and outside thunder crackles overhead as lightning flashes through the window.

Steve isn’t afraid of the thunder God, his glare seethes.

“She tried to speak up for you. She’s in love with you. I don’t know why. I haven’t seen it for myself, haven’t been here, but I can see the loneliness in her eyes. And for a night at least, I was able to relieve her of it.”

“How dare you touch-!” Steve cuts off his wild guttural threat, the black pit in his stomach seems to be expanding upwards into his chest. It drags him down to the deepest depths of hell and he hates that he made you suffer.

You tear him to shreds with your tears and all the pain he’s given you. He can never make it up to you. He can’t make it right. Now he hears that you’ve been…touched by someone else? A God? By Thor?!

Painful images of you caressing Thor’s cheeks and hair, running your hands over his muscles as he thrusts into you fill Steve’s mind.

Fury! He feels the most potent fury at the sight in his head.

“Does that make you angry? That I’ve tasted your Queen?” Thor asks, keeping his voice even and quiet. “She’s very sweet, Steve. Like peaches dipped in honey. She trembled with ecstasy and cried because she didn’t know it could feel so good.”

Steve is on his feet, fists clenched at his sides as he glares daggers at this traitor. This so-called friend.

The image in his mind changes, Thor's head between your legs as you throw your own back, hands fisting his hair as he grips your thighs.

No!

“I should have you taken to the dungeon and beheaded.” Steve growls, spitting angry, with eyes like the devil when his souls are due.

Thor doesn’t seem to take the threat seriously. He leans forward, elbows on his knees as he gets a good look into Steve’s eyes. He looks a little happy too. Like he’s enjoying Steve’s reaction.

“Why do you treat her so?” He asks, curious. “Is it because of Maggie?”

“Don’t.” Steve growls harder, voice cutting out as a surprised sob slips through. The anger fades from his face, replaced by shocked heartache at the mention of Maggie. “Don’t.”

“It has been nearly three years since you lost her. I know what you lost. I know that no one can replace what the two of you shared but it’s no longer just you. Someone else is living and breathing in this castle and she’s placed all of her hopes on you.” Thor gripes, real concern for his friend turning his voice soft.

“I know.” Steve whispers, fighting the sorrow in his chest as he sits back down.

“Do you?” Thor checks, eyebrows shooting up into his forehead.

Steve looks up at him and seems to have gotten some of his composure back.

“You have been so wrapped up in your grief that you’ve ignored the woman you’ve married. It is not her fault that you loved someone else first. It’s not her fault that you lost Maggie. But you’re punishing her as if it were.”

“I know it’s not…” Steve argues.

“Then why do you only see your own grievances? Why can you only see your own sorrow? Your wife is reaching out to you, to know you, and you will not let her.” Thor seems to get angrier as he speaks. Exasperation making him breathless as he moves to the edge of his seat.

He gestures at the doorway they’d just walked through, to you down the hall in your bedroom.

Steve knows that he means that you’re trying to touch his heart. He’s going to try and let you. He won’t run away from it anymore.

“She was uprooted from her life and brought here. She was given into your care and you’ve done nothing but show her that her life is not only valued at less than the memory of someone long gone, but that you don’t care whether she is happy in her new home. Your subjects can see that.

“Do you not hear the gossip that snakes its way through your kingdom? The Crazy Queen. Poor King Rogers. He had to marry King Stark’s mad daughter. He clearly doesn’t love her. Look at how he shuns her. Why can’t she just stay in her room where none of us must see her?

“Nobody wants her.” Thor finishes, slapping the harsh words without remorse. “Not even the King.”

“I do want her.” Steve argues, angry again, voice gruff. “I do. I just…”

“Do you hate her?”

“No.” Steve glares. “Of course, I don’t hate her. Would I have married her if I hated her?”

Yes. He would have. He hates to admit it. But he doesn’t hate you. You fill his thoughts now.

“Then what will you do if you lose this one too?” Thor asks, punching Steve in the gut with his words.

Steve slams his fist on the desk, hating the ache that strangles his heart. “No!”

Thor simply watches.

“I won’t lose her, Thor. I-I can’t.” Steve gets up and begins to pace, reaching up to wipe his face in frustration. “Where is that damn doctor? Why hasn’t Nat come?”

“You almost did lose her.” Thor nods, ignoring Steve’s sudden panic at his reminder that you’re lying in your bed unconscious. “And I don’t mean her injuries. You pushed her away so harshly that she ran away from you. Imagine what she must have felt to leave you, forgoing all care for her reputation and safety. If I hadn’t found her wandering in the woods, she might very well be dead right now. She wasn’t in the greatest condition when I found her. Sick. Hungry. Parched.”

Steve sits again and buries his face in his hands, gasping hard as the strife of worry finally catches up with him. He’s been holding it in since you went away, refusing to really feel it. To let others see it.

Pierce and Rumlow had come the closest.

“A little bit longer and you would have lost her just as you lost Margaret.” Thor says gently.

“I can’t.” Steve groans, hands sliding up into his hair to pull harshly. “I can’t lose her.”

“Then fix this.” Thor tells him, urging his old friend to do what’s right. “Fix this before she stops loving you. And if you think you can love her, even if it is only a little bit, don’t leave her in any doubt of it. I will not be the last man to show interest.”

Steve’s face contorts into a grimace, upset and angry but it almost seems like it’s directed at himself. He meets Thor’s eyes with that same agonized look on his face.

“Did you really…did you and she…?”

Thor is silent. It’s answer enough but Steve stares, wanting more details. Even though his eyes are pools of anguish because he knows that Thor didn’t lie about having tasted you, he wants to know how and for how long.

“Tell me.” Steve begs, almost afraid of what he might say.

How will he compare to a God? He’s already done such a horrible job at being your husband. He’s left your bed how many nights with you sobbing into your pillow? How many more where you just laid there without complaint?

“I don’t want to be indiscreet.” Thor hesitates.

“I think we’re well past that, Thor. Just…tell me.” Steve sighs. “Did you sleep with her?”

“No.” Thor assures him. “I thought about it.”

Steve glares at him but takes a shaky breath and nods. “Did you-”

“I touched her with my hands until she neared release. I attempted cunnilingus but, she stopped me when she came close. I don’t think it’s me she wanted touching her in such ways.” Thor says.

Steve has that urge to stab his friend again. He pushes through it, reminding himself that if he hadn’t been terrible to you then you would have never run out on him and you would have never met Thor and been placed in such an awkward position.

“Steve…” Thor begins, pulling Steve’s storm blue gaze back up to his.

When Thor is sure that he has his friend’s undivided attention, he speaks.

“I can see that you care about her. It isn’t just that she’s your wife that makes you want to stab me with your dagger.”

“How do you know that I-?” Steve asks, astonished that Thor knows Steve’s violent thoughts.

“Because it is what I would want to do if I learned that someone other than myself had touched the Lady Jane. I felt bad for her pain and I’d be lying if I said that your sweet wife is not tempting. She has a fighter’s spirit but the gentility of a true Queen. She has compassion which is difficult to find in the ruling class. If I did not love Jane as much as I do, and if she were not already your wife, I would take her as my own.” Thor confesses and it scares Steve.

Is Thor right? Will there be other suitors? Other men that will think it’s possible to steal you from him?

“Perhaps I still might?” Thor threatens.

Steve renews his glare, hating him if only because he’s done something that he hasn’t done himself.

He’s tasted you. Seen you happy beneath him. Given you pleasure when Steve has only given you pain.

“As I said before,” Thor insists. “If you love her, even just a small amount, you must tell her and tell her soon. Her patience is wearing thin with you Steve. She cannot wait for you forever. She might be your Queen until the day she dies but she doesn’t have to love you.”

Steve considers the possibility. You by his side until you’re both old and gray and you, with a string of lovers over a lifetime in a loveless marriage. He doesn’t like the idea of someone else touching you. He hates it even more to think that you might not love him. That you won’t want him around you.

“Fix it.” Thor orders, and Steve feels obliged to obey.

“There’s something else.” Thor states, leaning back in his chair again, but he nods at the red leather-bound book that Steve had caught you reading the title of. “Two things actually.”

“What is it?” Steve asks, reaching to place his hand on the book only after glancing towards the doorway full of worry. Has the doctor come yet?

“First, the reason that Y/N is in her current state is because we were attacked. More specifically, she was.” Thor hold out his hand as Steve makes to get up, body tense with fear. “Don’t worry, she wasn’t injured by anyone but a few rocks as she fell.”

“What happened?” Steve demands.

“We were on our way back here. She’d decided to come back home to you, and we were very nearly here when someone came out of the trees and swung their sword at her.” Suddenly, Thor smiles. “She’s very spry, your sweet wife. She ducked as easily as if she were breathing and avoided the blow. Had it not rained the night before I think she might have been able to get back to me, but the rocks were wet, and she slipped.”

“Slipped?” Steve asks with a light gasp, as if he can’t believe it. “She just slipped?”

“She hit her side and her head. It’s why she’s asleep.” Thor explains.

It all feels too familiar and it’s burning Steve up from the inside, charring his nerves into familiar broken numbness.

Just an accident. Maggie’s fall was also just an accident.

“She’ll pull out of this, Steve. Your queen is strong. She wouldn’t let something this simple keep her down. Not when she’s got you here waiting for her.” Thor assures him.

“Who was it?” Steve asks, so very tired all of a sudden as he runs his hands through his hair, pushing it back and away from his face.

“I can’t be sure, but it looked like Hydra.” Thor nods.

“They’re back.” Steve realizes.

“And with a vengeance. For some reason, they want your new queen dead.” Thor shakes his head, and Steve can see that Thor really does care for you. Too much in his opinion.

Steve’s mind is already racing, connecting dots. “I think I know who’s behind it, but I’ll never be able to prove it.”

Thor nods. “We’ll have to be vigilant then, until we can.”

They lapse into silence, both thinking about Hydra until Steve remembers that there was something else Thor wanted to say.

“What was the second thing?” He asks.

“What?” Thor seems confused for a moment.

Steve raises both eyebrows, waiting.

“Oh!” Thor shakes his head, “Right. The other thing.”

Steve waits, heart pounding.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re groggy.

It feels like you’ve been sleeping for hours and hours. Days. Weeks even.

You struggle to push past the fog and when you manage to open your eyes, you feel the resistance of your own body as you attempt to speak.

Quickly, as your mind wakes up, it reminds you of the last things you saw.

A flash of silver, black mass, the slip of your foot, pain against your side and against your head.

Dread fills you. A slow frenzy begins to build in your chest as your heart picks up pace. Hands trembling you reach to press your hands against the side that you hit yourself on.

Movement to your right draws your eye and you see Nat, dressed in an emerald green dress with dark gray damask embroidery from head to toe, stoking your fire to make your room warm.

You have no time to appreciate the comforts you’re surrounded in—the soft white fabric of your luxurious nightdress, the plush mattress you lay on, the puffy pillows and the much welcome smell of peony, jasmine, and lilac with the residual smell of juniper blossoms that fills your head with the memory of beautiful long and golden hair.

Reaching out, you wheeze as you attempt to speak. You can’t breathe in. Why?

Nat turns, her eyes flare as she spots you awake and she’s by your side in seconds.

“Oh, Y/N! I could kill you.” She picks up your hand and kisses the back of it then presses it to her cheek before she looks at you again. “Oh, no…don’t panic, you’re safe. Shhh.”

Panic? Is that why you can’t breathe.

“Breathe, your Majesty. Breathe.” Nat urges.

She breathes in and then out.

“Like this.” She does it again and this time you follow.

Your eyes spill tears, torrid fat drops that fill your pillow by your ear making it cold and wet.

“There you go. Are you in pain?” She worries, her hands dropping yours so that she can run them up and down your arms and legs.

“Nat!” You nearly shout, reaching for her sleeve to pull her back up. “Please…”

Your left hand is pressed against your stomach carefully, protectively. Nat’s eyes follow it and then she stares at you with shock for all of a second before she’s moving to get on her feet.

“We need the doctor!” She shouts towards the door.

“No.” You almost growl, pulling on her arm and back down onto the edge of the bed.

At the other end of the room, your doors open and Peter and Bucky both come in to stand by the door looking concerned and terrified.

Nat moves in closer as you pull her down.

“Not the doctor.” You swallow hard, pushing past the emotional lump in your throat. You’re still crying those fat heavy tears, but you’re not sobbing. “In my old village…”

Speaking slowly so that you get it out all in one go, Nat watches your lips and then meets your eyes, flitting between the two as you speak to her with what must be vital importance.

“…there is an old woman. In Charmlee Forest, twenty minutes to the East of my village you will find her hut. When she was younger, she used to be a midwife. I need her, Nat. Bring her here. Please. No one else. Just her.”

Nat is on her feet, racing towards the doorway. As she passes Bucky and Peter, Bucky grabs her elbow and stops her.

“Where are you going? What did she say?” Bucky asks.

“I need to send a rider to Malibia, Charmlee Forest. There’s an old woman that she needs. A doctor.” Nat lies, knowing you well enough now to know you don’t want this out there yet.

“I’ll go.” Bucky tells her and without another word he’s gone.

Nat looks to Peter and moves to shut the door to keep the heat in the room, but Peter moves inside before she can close it.

Knowing that help is coming, you relax a little but continue to cry. Your eyes find Peter’s and your sorrow is renewed when you see the red rim around his eyes. They sparkle with unshed tears and you bite your bottom lip.

“Peter, I’m so sorry.” You gasp, reaching out for him.

He takes our hand and gives it a squeeze before kneeling down beside your bed to simply hold your hand.

“I would have taken you anywhere you wanted to go.” He explains, quickly wiping the tears from his eyes.

“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” You admit, then look at Nat who’s hovering by the bottom right post at the end of your bed. “I was just so…I stopped thinking and my feet led me away from here. I was days gone when I realized the worry that I would put you through. I cannot ask for your forgiveness, but please accept my apology.”

“Life for you hasn’t been easy here, your Majesty.” Peter says, drawing your eyes away from Nat. “We understand that.”

He looks at Nat, then sighs before meeting your eyes again. “We aren’t angry that you ran. Anyone would have left much sooner. I only wish I had known so that I could go with you. To protect you.”

“I know.” You sigh. “I missed you both so much. For a long time you were my only incentive to return and I started the journey several times until I found…”

Quickly your eyes scan the room. “Where’s Thor?”

“He’s with Steve in his office. They’ve been in there for hours.” Nat tells you.

Steve. The prospect of seeing him again is both exciting and painful. Flames of anger lick at your bones and you can’t pretend that you don’t feel it.

“I don’t want to see him.” You suddenly say.

“Thor?” Peter asks, giving your hand a squeeze.

“His Majesty,” You say flatly. “I don’t want to see him.”

Nat moves closer to you, sitting to your right by your knees. “Y/N…”

“I don’t want to see him, Nat. I can’t. Not after what he said.” You’ll never forgive him for wishing he wasn’t married to you. For saying that he shouldn’t have.

You’re his wife. Whether he likes it or not…but maybe you’ll all of this go. All the feelings you never asked for. The love you never wanted.

“Y/N…with the way you fell, Steve will want to see you.” Nat begins again, trying to sound calm as she places her hand on your thigh. “It’s very similar to the way Margaret-”

“I’m done listening about Margaret, Nat. Please don’t say her name to me again.” You’re harsh with her, but you don’t feel bad. “I can’t hear it anymore.”

She sighs. “It’ll be hard to keep him out of here.”

“Lock my door.” You whisper. “Until I see the old woman, I will not see him, Nat.”

Peter squeezes your hand. “I’ll make sure he stays away.”

As you meet his eyes, you see his determination. Thank the Gods for Peter Benjamin Parker.

#king!steve x reader #king!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #medieval au #marvel fanfiction #avengers x reader #king!steve rogers x reader fic #king!steve rogers x reader fanfic #king!steve rogers x reader fanfiction #king!steve rogers x you #king!steve rogers x y/n #king!steve x reader fanfiction #king!steve x you #king!steve x y/n #stever x reader fanfiction #steve x you #steve x y/n #marvel au #captain america x reader #pseudo princess pt12 #pseudo princess

[terresdebrume]

The Witcher - Favorite reads masterpost

Like much of Tumblr, I have recently fallen down the delicious rabbit hole of the saga of Henry Cavill’s abs in form-fitting leather, aka the tv adaptation of The Witcher. As always, that means semi-obsessive fic reading which in turn means recs! So, here’s a non-exhaustive, always evolving list of my favorite Witcher fic.

As of right now it’s...well, almost exclusively geraskier, because shipping is my primary reason for reading fics and also the Witcher (TV) tag is one of the most uniformly slashy ones I’ve ever seen, but there will be other kind of fics too. Hope you’ll enjoy :)

Tagging @nyliekeo because I’ve been saying I’d give you a rec list for a while and I’m finally (beginning to) deliver. Other stories will be added as I catch up with my reading and/or discover new ones.

Now with a Volume 2

Last updated Feb. 20th 2020.

Non Geraskier fics

Nighttime Conversations - Starfleet_Command_Unite_Bi

Specs: 731 words - Eist/Calanthe - Teen & Up Summary: Eist and Calanthe have a mostly serious conversation. Set about a year after they get married.

what changed? - TheSoliloquy 

Specs: 1939 words - Eist/Calanthe - Teen & Up Summary: Eist is a man born to belief and faith. Skelligens put stock in destiny... Perhaps they shouldn't. Or: Eist and his relationship with the Lioness of Cintra and her cubs.

Three times (and a half) - karadeniz

Specs: 4 450 words - General Audiences - Happy family dynamics Summary: The annals of Cintra are not that interesting, so Eist and Ciri push the definition of a history lesson a little.

You know The Princess Bride movie? Yeah, it's a little bit like that.

Capable - periwinklepromise

Specs: 100 words - General Audiences - Drabble Summary: Renfri is capable of many things

Between Roaches - RabidRabbit

Specs: 1 522 words - Geralt & Roach - General audiences - Sad going to hopeful Summary: Witchers live far, far longer lives than their mounts. So how does one deal with having to find another Roach when the loss of the previous one left a great gaping hole in the heart many people didn't believe Geralt had?

A Quiet Night - 2spaces_lesbo1

Specs: 1 214 words - Geralt & Ciri - General audiences - Fluff Summary: They have a still moment together.

you’ll be alright (no one can hurt you now) - hopeless_hope

Specs: 1 347 words - Teen & Up audiences - Grief/Mourning, soft dad Geralt Summary: “Hey,” he says, making sure he has her full attention. Ciri looks at him, and the amount of hope in her eyes scares him, though he’d never admit it. He pitches his voice low and soothing yet firm. “No one is going to hurt you while I’m here. And I won’t be leaving you.” She gives him a twisted smile. “They all say that,” she says bitterly, and Geralt spares himself a second to remind himself of what Ciri has lost. Her parents. Her grandparents. Her home. Geralt is all she has left. - In which Ciri has a nightmare and Geralt does his best to comfort her.

Geraskier fics

Limpid As Dammit - Gigi_Sainclair

Specs: 3 100 words - Teen & Up Summary: "The first time, Jaskier does it out of kindness, to avoid hurt feelings."

Becoming a hero - charlock221

Specs: 4 181 words - Teen & Up - Graphic depiction of violence Summary: Jaskier found that being a damsel in distress was only fun when the peril was very, very mild.Being a damsel in distress was definitely not fun when the peril was four thugs threatening him and he hadn’t spoken to his usual rescuer in several months.He just wasn’t sure he had what it took to become the hero.

The Ballad of Pots and Pans - 6th_magnitude

Specs: 1 880 words - Mature - Friends to lovers Summary: Geralt knows Jaskier is a bard - but until now, he’s never properly listened to his songs.

Astra Inclinant - JustGettingBy

Specs: 11 790 words - Explicit - AU Summary: When Jaskier is seven, he first hears the myths of the Witchers--those foul, half-human beasts.When Jaskier is twenty-one, he meets Geralt.He falls in love with him not long after.

kamilica - yogurtgun

Specs: 3 295 words - Explicit - Service Top Jaskier Summary: Jaskier rubs chamomile oil on Geralt's lovely bottom.

your very best friend, in the whole wide world - sargarepa

Specs: 5 996 words - General audiences - Soft!Geraskier - Touch-starved!Geralt Summary: Geralt of Rivia has spent a strange amount of time feverishly obsessing over the way Jaskier can just casually touch him, like it's nothing, like he's not an aberration capable of breaking Jaskier in half with a sneeze. Jaskier saw Geralt slice through monsters like pudding, covered in guts and grime and his own sweat and blood, but there he was, leaning against him and tuning his lute. Geralt doesn't know how to classify the feeling gripping him every time it happens, but he knows he doesn't want it to stop.

the world will follow after - friendlyghost

Specs: 8 827 words - Explicit - Dopplers - Scent kink Summary: The thing about dopplers is that while they know their target’s mind, they aren’t all that skilled in actually impersonating them. It’s easy to look like the baker’s wife and to know that she’s having an affair with the laundress down the road. It’s much harder to know not to kiss the laundress in front of the baker.In which a doppler impersonates Jaskier, Geralt realizes some things, and then they (Geralt and the real Jaskier) have sex. In that order.

His Touch - Sevent

Specs: 6 203 words - Mature - Touch starved! Geralt Summary: Jaskier is an affectionate man. It drives Geralt mad, but in more ways than he knows how to put into words.

Masterwork - phnelt

Specs: 1 461 words - Teen & Up - Master Bard!Jaskier Summary: “Master Jaskier, please meet your apprentice. Valdemar, do try to contain yourself.” Master Juhani looked at Jaskier’s expression and coughed. “Surely you remember the duties of a Master, Jaskier.”

let us shake the abacus - Ark

Specs: 3 062 words - Explicit - Denial (of feelings) Summary: "This is a bad idea," says Geralt."Terrible idea," Jaskier agrees. He kisses up Geralt’s neck, his tongue wicked on Geralt’s ear. "Really bad."

What Pleases You - jesstiel (jseca)

Specs: 5 725 words - Not rated - Geralt & Jaskier do go to the coast. Summary: “Well, it’s just – we were on the brink of finding a dragon.   You had Yennefer in your grasp – or perhaps you in hers, it’s difficult to tell, sometimes.  Adventure, peril, romance!  And.. you walked away.”

“You asked me to,” Geralt says, like it's that easy.

--

Now With Chapter 2: They Actually Get To The Coast.

Companionship - ArliaDevi

Specs: 4 104 words - Teen & Up - Found family Summary: In which Ciri suspects but cannot confirm.

Or, Geralt and Jaskier get domestic. Well, as domestic as they can.

it steals all my reason - theredtailedhawkwithjewelsforeyes

Specs: 1 382 words - General Audiences - Pneumonia Summary: The worst thing, Geralt thinks, is the quiet. There is no singing, just the heavy labour of breaths hard-won.

Sinister as Silence - MountainRose

Specs: 1 783 words - Teen & Up - Monster of the week Summary: Jaskier goes quiet for one second, and it's enough for Geralt to have a heart attack.

When the Morning Light Shines In - QueenForADay

Specs: 2 760 words - General Audiences - Morning After, Lazy mornings Summary: Jaskier can’t think of any point in their travels together where he has woken up before the other man. In mornings where they were surrounded by trees, or half-way up a stupid, fucking mountain because of a stupid, fucking quest posed to them by some stupid, fucking man, he’ll always wake to the sound of Geralt moving around: whether it’s rolling up his own tent, or taking his blades to a whetstone, or fixing the last of Roach’s gear. He remembers Geralt telling him about not being able to sleep. Until then, he supposed, Witchers might not have needed it. Then again, until he met Geralt, he can’t say for certain that he knew exactly what a Witcher did and didn’t need. He can’t think of any point in their travels together where he has woken up before the other man – except for now.

The Knack of Acting Normal - KeriArentikai

Specs: 4 407 words - Teen & Up - Geralt is bad at feelings, but he gets better Summary: It's been almost two years since the last time he's seen him. Jaskier looks the same to Geralt. Maybe a little older, he supposes. Happier, certainly, than when he turned away on the rocks. [Geralt is sad. Jaskier is sad. And then after a while they are both happy.]

Weak, My Love, and I Am Wanting - TabbyCat33098

Specs: 2 443 words -Teen & Up - Getting together Summary: Jaskier has written a lot of ballads about some woman who has stolen his heart. The thing is, he's been on the road with Geralt for the past month. He hasn't had any time to court a woman, much less have his heart broken by her. So who is this woman? The answer may shock you. // “There’s no lady,” Geralt says. Jaskier trails off. “Well, of course not,” he says instead. “I imagine a woman would take grave offense to the frequency with which we give our patronage to brothels, not to mention your unseemly habit of bathing in monster blood and other revolting gunk.” He wrinkles his nose. “Perhaps I should write an ode to your masterful powers of observation next.” “But you were talking about a woman tonight,” Geralt continues, ignoring Jaskier entirely.

there’s not a word yet for old friends who’ve just met - theredtailedhawkwithjewelsforeyes

Specs: 2 469 words - Teen & Up - Not really a character death Summary: “I wonder,” says Dandelion, lounging under a tree- his lute is in his lap. Geralt is cleaning his sword and stealing glances at him every few moments. “I wonder why it is some people feel so familiar. I could swear I’d never met you, Geralt, but you’re- maybe it’s just from those old songs.” He strums a chord, and when he starts on Toss a Coin Geralt grits out a “stop it” before he can even think.

Where the Field Meets the Forest - karcheri

Specs: 782 words - General Audiences - Flowers meanings Summary: Jaskier has been putting flowers into Geralt's hair. He catches on.

Speechless - Silverynight

Specs: 1 371 words - Teen & Up - Emotional repression Summary: The first time Jaskier wakes up next to Geralt he tells himself it’s an accident, even though he knows it doesn’t make any sense. Of course he’s attracted to his friend (the witcher would never admit they’re friends because he’s an idiot, but they are friends) he’s been attracted to men before, however… He’s never actually slept with one before, only women. Perhaps that’s the reason why he hasn’t said anything since he woke up. He’s still trying to think about what happened. Not that he didn’t enjoy it, quite the opposite in fact, it’s just… Jaskier thought he’d never sleep with a man.

a broken pot can still hold water - MarionetteFtHJM

Specs: 28 742 words - Explicit - Jaskier makes Geralt grovel a bit. Summary: Despite what his outward code of conduct would have you thinking, Jaskier knows when he is not wanted. He allows himself the exact amount of three days of wallowing in that small town before he packs his meager possessions and hits the road like nothing happened. In those three days he sings and dances for his food and drink, fucks the pretty barmaid and sleeps off the hangover before heading out in the morning of the fourth day. He travels alone for the first time in a while but it’s alright. Now, if only people would stop telling him that the Witcher asks about him - that'd be swell.

Surprise, Surprise - Laylabinx

Specs: 1 732 words - Mature - Graphic depiction of violence Summary: Even in the dim light, he can see that Jaskier is absolutely covered in blood. His clothes are splattered with it, his face is streaked, there’s even blood in his hair. His arms are slick and saturated up to the elbow and the sharp, polished blade Geralt had given him before he went into the cave is still gripped tightly in one fist like he can’t let it go. His knees are drawn up to his chest like he’s trying to make himself very small and aside from his quiet, hitched breathing he doesn’t move at all.Jaskier blinks at him and his expression crumples just slightly as he stifles back a sob. “I killed them.” (Or Jaskier is forced to kill in self-defense and does not handle it well. Geralt helps him pick up the pieces.)

Opulence - QueenForADay

Specs: 7 237 words - Explicit - Praise kink, some plot. Summary: In private, and sheltered from the wandering eyes of stablehands, Jaskier presses a light kiss to Geralt’s neck. “Please?” he mumbles against the skin, smirking as he trails his nose along a tendon there. “For me?” Geralt turns, catching Jaskier’s lips in a kiss that, if he wasn’t completely aware of how discreet they have to be, would become so much more. Jaskier still doesn’t move his hands though; one on the small of Geralt’s back, and the other holding on to a forearm. When he pulls away, Jaskier tries to follow, but a barked order from one of the grooms to a nearby stableboy makes him pull away. “Siren,” Geralt sighs. He would follow Jaskier anywhere. The bard knows that. He’s abused that fact. But the city they’re heading to has a reputation; draped in gold with springs of silver in the main square, it’s opulence at its finest. And Geralt is pretty sure that, although he’ll appreciate the comfy bed and the nice food, he’s going to fucking hate the rest of it.

Here’s a safe place (to lay your heart down) - Some_Dead_Guy

Specs: 1 439 words - Teen & Up - Hurt/Comfort Summary: “My mother used to do this for me, when I got headaches.” Jaskier murmurs, his voice quiet and soft, “I was a bit clumsy as a child, still am now I’m sure you’d say.” Jaskier chuckles and Geralt can feel the puff of his breath against his face, “I hit my head a lot, and this would make me feel better. Not sure how well it works on Witchers but–” “Works just fine.” Geralt mumbles, and his head splitting headache has dulled to a barely there throb under Jaskier’s fingers. Or, Geralt has a headache and his bard comes to the rescue.

I spoke your name (out loud to the room) - objectlesson

Specs: 1 151 words - Mature - Unrequited love Summary: You wish Jaskier would leave you the fuck alone, but he clings to you like ash after flames have laid waste to a village, like clotted crimson after you have killed something with your bare hands. However, you can scrub blood out from under your nails. Jaskier, so far, has proven to be far more indelible.

To Sleep Perchance To - Sospes

Specs: 16 955 - Mature - Graphic depiction of violence, torture, PTSD Summary: Jaskier gets kidnapped and tortured. Geralt comes to rescue him. Except it's not quite that simple.

Scales and Songs - TeenyTinyTony

Specs: 4 640 words - Teen & Up - Siren!Jaskier AU Summary: Geralt had known from the moment Jaskier introduced himself that the bard wasn't human, but he had seemed harmless enough and Geralt wasn't one to chase something that wasn't hurting anyone. It was easier not to mention it.

Starving on Scraps of Kindness - penguistifical

Specs: 4 388 words - Explicit - Orgasm delay/denial, not entirely human!Jaskier Summary: "It seems obvious in retrospect, but Geralt didn’t realize Jaskier’s true nature until the two of them encountered a succubus."

Benefits - ShastaFirecracker

Specs: 3 319 words - Explicit - Friends with benefits, coming untouched Summary: Whenever Jaskier's mouth isn't occupied, he talks. Low, easily, about anything. Sounds to soothe. And the thing is – unlike all the rest of the time, Jaskier is pretty sure that when he talks while he's chasing Geralt's pleasure, Geralt listens. It's a heady drug. And yes, Jaskier is becoming addicted.

Sleepsong - QueenForADay

Specs: 1 643 words - General audiences - Geralt wakes up from a nightmare, Jaskier helps. Summary: Some part of him wishes that people could see this – the man that they all fear so much, the Witcher, a hunter of the supernatural and evil, placated by his bard’s voice, melting into his arms. All he’s missing is hearing Geralt purr like a housecat. Every so often, Jaskier’s ears prick at the sound of a murmur of a hum leaving the other man, particularly when Jaskier presses a kiss to the crown of Geralt’s head, or runs his foot along the length of Geralt’s bared leg.

And at the same time, he would gladly pick up a sword and kill anyone who even thought of intruding on a moment like this.

When sorrow sang - Ailendolin

Specs: 11 184 words - Teen & Up audiences - Regret, pining Summary:  Alone, with only his trusted lute as companion, Jaskier sat in front of a pitiful fire, strumming his instrument with almost absentminded fingers. His hands were trembling, something Geralt had never seen them do before, and that was startling enough to make him pause at the edge of the clearing, just out of sight. “I’m weak, my love, and I am wanting,” Jaskier sang softly, and his voice broke with so much sorrow Geralt could feel it in his very bones. After their fight it doesn't take long for Geralt to stumble upon Jaskier again. There's only one way down the mountain, after all. What he didn't expect was to catch him in an unguarded moment - one that changes everything for both of them.

Neither one prepared - Sevent

Specs: 10 050 words - Mature - Idiots who don’t know they’re in love, semi-slow burn Summary: Between the Djinn and the Dragon Hunt, Geralt and Jaskier share many encounters on the road. A collection of coincidences, through Jaskier's eyes.

look what you made me do - cicak

Specs: 6 569 words - Explicit - Farce with porn Summary: “Like that dandy has ever bedded a woman,” the woman at the next table scoffed. “All those sexy songs of his are about that Witcher.”

The Love of a Bard - SpaceSexual

Specs: 2 103 words - Teen & Up audiences Summary: "The pen is mightier than the sword - and so it would seem, is the lute." Jaskier's a bard, a truly exceptional model of his vocation. He writes songs that bring crowds to their feet and thinks his time spent with the Witcher has let him learn a step or two of his own. However, some dances require one step forward, and a few very rapid, fear-filled, paces back.

Priorities - Penguistifical

Specs: 2 590 words - Teen & Up - Geralt cares and so does Jaskier Summary: Geralt’s getting used to a certain bard's company, but he can’t help but notice that Jaskier takes better care of his lute than of himself.

Curiosities - Luddleston

Specs: 3 109 words - Teen & Up audiences - Banter, witcher biology Summary:  "Geralt, let me ask you a question." "No." "Oh, come now. It's nothing ridiculous." Jaskier does his research, Geralt is tired of all the questions, and the questions get more and more personal along the way.

Woodash and iron and leather - LokelaniRose

Specs: 9 874 words - Explicit - Mutual admiration - Mutual pining Summary: Jaskier is the only person Geralt's ever been around who doesn't smell of fear. Russian Translation here Korean Translation here

lay (not) your heart against him - theredtailedhawkwithjewelsforeyes

Specs: 1 368 words - Teen & Up audiences - Geralt of Rivia is bad at communicating, scenting Summary: He’s a brave man but the core of it is that he trusts Geralt to save him before anything ever gets too close. It’s- Well. Geralt thinks the last time someone trusted him as far as they could throw him was when he was still a child. Before Kaer Morhen, before anything. His world is a cruel, cutthroat one. He doesn’t know what to do with this unceasing, unspoken dedication. So he doesn’t mention it. Probably Jaskier doesn’t even realize what he’s doing. 

The Ballad of the Bard and the Moon - Ravenheart

Specs: 2 605 words - Mature - It’s all about the YEARNING Summary: If the moon allowed it, Jaskier would call himself a worshipper for as long as he lived. And that, he guessed, was the problem. Because the moon could keep you company, but it couldn't worship back. It might give you direction, and you might even be blessed with its protection, but it would go its own way, whether you followed or stayed behind. Stubbornly determined to walk the night at its own pace, painting its own path. (Alternatively: Jaskier spends over 2k trying to figure out that he's in love with Geralt, and then he does something about it)

in restless dreams i walked alone (the sound of silence) - august_embers

Specs: 16 136 words - Not rated - Mental health issues, suicidal thoughts (but no actual suicide attempt), Jaskier is not okay sometimes Summary: "Geralt is able to scent the guilt on a lying man from ten feet away, to catch sight of half a pawprint in the undergrowth in the dead of night, to know when to lean back before the coming blade can cut through his throat.  Much of it comes from his training at Kaer Morhen, where his instincts were honed and enhanced, but even more comes from his travels and experiences while walking the Path.  Geralt notices things, because not noticing means death. He does not notice the lack of singing." Something is very wrong with Jaskier.

front row praises - The_Watchers_Crown

Specs: 25 098 words - Explicit - Porn with feelings Summary: The girl rolls her eyes at him. “If you’re just going to stand here ogling the witcher, maybe go and do it out of the way.” “Ogling.” Jaskier scoffs. “Who’s ogling?” She looks unimpressed. “Have you told him you want him to fuck you?”

Inspiration - CobaltCephalopod

Specs: 1 131 words - General audiences - Magic, musical instruments Summary: Between all the half-hummed melodies and scratched out words to be had over the course of decades, Geralt knows how Jaskier’s songs work and how they are made. He’s the subject of them, more often than not, and he can’t count the number of hours spent falling asleep to Jaskier’s strumming while he huddles closer to the dying fire to read what he’d scribbled so far. Or: I figured Filavandrel's lute probably has some kind of magic in it.

a fool by profession - besselfcn

Specs: 967 words - General audiences - Jaskier tells his problems to a horse Summary: “Make sure my horse gets a bath,” Jaskier mumbles, in a poor imitation of Geralt’s distressingly low register. “Who does he think he is, honestly? Man has one bloody popular song written after him and he thinks I’ll attend to his beck and call, is that it?” He gives pause for Roach to weigh in, if she’s inclined. She snorts.

i’ve never been there bu i know the way - theredtailedhawkwithjewelsforeyes

Specs: 2 525 words - Mature - Basically jaskier starts being competent and Geralt is like. huh. Huh. Summary: On the left hand of the noble, however, is Jaskier. His charm is turned up to eleven, and Geralt could swear he’s batting his eyelashes, and his voice is all syrupy-sweet. He squints at his bard to no avail- Jaskier is very determinedly seducing this damn noble. And what’s worse is that it’s working. Somehow, improbably, Jaskier is charming him through shockingly well delivered compliments and subtle little flattering remarks. It’s such a far cry from the stuttering, irritating bard Geralt knows that he feels almost offended, like this has been purposefully hidden from him just to pull out at the most fucking inopportune time he could possibly find. 

Tinseltown - LaurytheLatrador

Specs: 16 545 words - Mature - Alternate Universe - Hollywood Summary: Back when Jaskier was a small town busker he hooked up with Geralt, an MMA fighter gaining renown. Now Jaskier's a musician struggling to keep his head above water in Los Angeles, while his ex is one of the most famous actors in the world. He never expected their paths to cross again, but there wouldn't be any stories if life went the way we expect.

Where there’s a Witcher - ghostinthelibrary

Specs: 61 278 words - Mature - Alternate Universe - Modern setting Summary: Jaskier is a twentysomething recently unemployed journalist and amateur musician looking for his big break. So when he’s saved from the jaws of a wyvern by the infamous Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia, he comes up with a brilliant idea: he’ll follow the Witcher around and sing about their exploits. He’ll gain fame and fortune and Geralt will get a much needed image rehab. Everyone wins. Unless Jaskier goes and falls in love like an idiot.

The Witcher Wolf - im_fairly_witty

Specs: 11 448 words - Teen & Up audiences - Geralt accidentally becomes an emotional support animal Summary: It’s been two weeks since Geralt shouted Jaskier away from him on that mountain and Jaskier has been handling it like a champ by forlornly wandering alone in the wilderness with his lute. When he (literally) stumbles across an injured white wolf he decides to take a chance and see if he can help it, appreciating the irony of the situation but not quite realizing why it is that the wolf’s golden eyes look exactly like his Witcher’s... Inspired by @kayivy's lovely art on tumblr

home is nowhere, therefore you - Ark

Specs:  18 134 words - Explicit - Fairytales, love confessions Summary: "Right, well," Jaskier says, when he halts before Geralt. Up close, he looks much more nervous. There is sweat on his brow and his collar is damp with it, and his teeth keep catching on his lower lip. "True love's kiss. There's—ah—there's nothing to it." And he bends, the utter imbecile, and kisses Geralt full on the mouth.

Two Halves of a Whole - penguistifical

Specs: 3 450 words - Teen & Up audiences - Alternate Universe - Daemons Summary: Geralt doesn’t take much notice at first when the small brown bird alights on his table.

Second Refrain - Kenjiandco

Specs: 7 006 words - Explicit - Siren magic has unexpected effects on witchers Summary:  It’s been...Gods, it’s been more than a year since their paths last crossed. Since Geralt emphatically un-crossed them, one could say, outside another cave high up on a windy mountain top.  And here they are, trapped like a couple of treed cats in this little hole in a cliff face. No horse, no pack, no potions, no swords. Just a rapidly dwindling handful of dried meat, a useless hunting knife, a festering bite in his side that hurts much more than it should...and Jaskier, the surest omen that everything in his life is about completely stop making sense. Again. In which back-to-back encounters with a siren, a wyvern, and an old, old friend leave Geralt in need of a rescue. Just not the one he thought he needed.

is there a person more cherished - nowherebound

Specs: 629 words - General audiences - Just Geralt and Jaskier loving each other very much Summary: Geralt is the most fond of him. Fond, fond, fond… fond of his chestnut hair and sloped eyebrows, smoothed back by two gentle thumbs; honest eyes and sweet voice, bathing him in praise; slender waist and soft belly, perfect for resting his head on; petite hands, fingertips calloused from lute strings. How pretty, how divine, how lovely that Geralt is the one who gets to hold him, to love him. Yes, he is the most fond.

Food of love - tanktrilby

Specs: 22 485 words - Teen & Up audiences - Magical bard Jaskier, Renfri lives Summary: I brought a dead princess back to life through the power of song is the kind of thing that would have got an eyebrow raise even from the stone-faced Geralt of Rivia, so it's a good thing he and Geralt will probably never see each other again. (or: the one where Jaskier channels magic through his songs, and it almost never goes as expected.)

You Suffer Alone, Not Anymore - Sevent

Specs: 2 719 words - Teen & Up - Roach is an emotional support horse Summary: There's much Geralt is willing to put up with. The trials and tribulations of his witcher youth prepared him for a lifetime of cruelty and scorn. No one ever prepared him for kindness.

Guide - TenSpencerRiedPlease

Specs: 2 740 words - Not Rated - Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides, Protective Jaskier Summary: “Oh for the love of god Geralt, could you cooperate for like five minutes?” Jaskier asks as he pushes Geralt to sit on the ground. He doesn’t look impressed about it but if his ass wasn’t constantly going into some type of zone out or sensory overload this wouldn’t be an issue. They’ve already had to mute all the colors on the TV, it never plays very loud, he’s only just gotten used to sun light of all things and he can sit on the ground because Jaskier has long ago discovered that if he’s touching Geralt he doesn’t lose his focus in another sense so much. Geralt glares at him the whole way down but he does go.

#The Witcher #Geralt of Rivia #Geraskier #Jaskier #Fic Rec #Witcher fics #Matt reads #50n #60n #80n #100n #Masterpost

[starswouldtell]

The Blue Horizon

Today is the @elmayarafest prompt “alternate universe”. I’d been weirdly dreading it, and figuring I’d just do something from the Hogwarts AU, but I couldn’t think what, and just wanted to do something else. About three days ago I started playing with this, and now it’s the longest single piece of Supergirl writing I’ve done... welcome to the Pirate AU. Pirates of the Caribbean is my favorite movie of all time, so perhaps it was bound to happen. As of posting, this is a one-shot. There’s some world building beyond what’s here, but also a lot of world that is not built and that I have no idea how to approach. So... I hope you enjoy it, I hope it makes for a fun AU jaunt, and I hope it captures the characters we love authentically in an interesting new universe. Posted here on ao3. _________________________________________________

Kara was thirteen years old when she lost... everything.

Her mother put her in the rowboat...

“Just to be safe. Be very quiet, alright? We’ll come for you when it’s safe.” She said, smoothing Kara’s hair and kissing her forehead... “I love you.”

Then she lowered Kara down into the ocean and let her drift into the fog.

The other ship with its black flag came, and Kara listened as the lapping of the ocean against her rowboat mixed with the sounds of screams, shots... She held her breath and tried her hardest not to sob; lest they hear her even though she drifted at a distance. She could see the orange glow of fire, smell the smoke...

BOOM.

She wakes with a start from the familiar nightmare, her heart beating fast. Dragging a hand through her golden hair she breathes a shaky sigh and gets up, wondering what time it is... Alex’s bed is empty. Dressing, she goes up on deck and smiles thinly at J’onn who stands at the helm.

“You must have been tired.” He looks a little amused, the expression warm. J’onn’s known Alex since she was a little girl, and Kara since she came to live in the Danvers house... Kara knows he lost his family long ago... they make their own family now.

“I guess so.” She answers, looking out at the horizon; all blue sea and sky. “It’s a clear day.”

“Good winds.”

“Morning!” Alex calls, coming up from bellow deck with two apples in her hands.

J’onn’s ship, Deimos, isn’t large, but that’s for the better; it means that they can manage it between them. What’s more, it makes swift time, especially with fine winds like today. It’s served them well in the two years they’ve sailed together.

She shakes herself from memories and accepts the piece of fruit Alex offers, biting into it.

“We should make the island today.” Her sister says, looking out over the sea then leaning on the railing. “Restock... I can’t wait to have a proper bath.”

Kara makes a noise of earnest agreement. She’s grown to find home here on the ship, but there are certain things she misses from life on land. “We can post a letter to Eliza, too... let her know we’re alright.”

Alex nods, her lips curving in a slight frown as she thinks of her mother. “Do you think she-... do you think she even wants to know?”

“Of course she would. She knows why we did it... she knows J’onn was innocent.”

Alex nods and drops her apple core into the ocean, going to see to what needs doing. Once Kara finishes her breakfast she gets to work as well, climbing nimbly up into the rigging while Alex works on deck.

She turns her face into the wind and smiles serenely as it catches her hair, closing her eyes and breathing in the sea salt, she wonders if this is what the birds feel like when they fly, slowly spreading her arms like wings... After a few moments, she grips the net of rope again, blinking into the sunlight as she catches something on the horizon.

“J’onn, there’s something to the west!” She calls, drawing a spyglass from the pouch on her belt, while below Alex warily touches the hilt of the cutlass on hers. She peers through the glass, wondering if the ship is friend or foe, then sees it’s not one ship, but two. A shiver courses through her as she spots the black flag, and a distant sound carries faint across the water...

BOOM.

“Oh no...” Kara breathes, then she’s scrambling down to the deck. “They need help--”

“Pirates?” Alex asks, hand tightening on hilt.

Kara nods, going to J’onn. “Neither ship’s Navy, it’s a black flag firing on- I don’t know if they’re travelers or merchants- but I’m sure they’re outgunned- they need help.”

J’onn nods, steering towards the fray... It’s dangerous, Kara knows, but it’s the very same instinct that led her and Alex to rescue him... a need to help; to see right done. She cannot turn away.

Deimos only has a few guns herself, but Alex readies them, brow creased with focus. Kara climbs up again, watching... they’re at a disadvantage; too much distance to cover and in this direction the wind’s not so helpful...

For a moment she is thirteen again, watching helplessly from the rowboat as her world erupts in blood and smoke...

“It’s sinking!” Kara shouts anxiously... if she’d seen it sooner- the pirates are sailing away and the ship is sinking... In moments, she’s on the deck again, running to J’onn. “The pirate ship is leaving, but the other ship is sinking,”

J’onn nods, trying to catch what gust he can in this direction. “Fast?”

Through the spyglass she looks again. “Not so fast, I think, but...” She takes a breath, pushes back but.

If there’s anyone left on the ship, we’ll get them...

As they draw closer, they can see people moving and Kara breathes a little easier. She spies one man dragging a heavy looking chest up from below and wonders what could be in it... nothing valuable enough for their attackers to steal, yet the young man pulls with determination, straining.

Taking the signal flags, Kara hopes they see... We'll help you.

Minutes pass that feel like days, but then they are in shouting range.

“We’ll get you aboard!” J’onn calls. Kara sucks in a breath... she can see bodies on the deck.

Too late.

She shakes the notion away as best she can.

Not for all of them.

“Leave it!” One man is shouting at the one with the chest.

“There is nothing more valuable on this ship.” The dark haired one snaps back.

Alex frowns, but she and Kara start working to bring the survivors over before the ship goes under. Some of their new passengers eye them dubiously, but they seem to know better than to question their rescuers. It’s a struggle, given the weight and the narrow gangplank,, but they manage the chest as well, and once it’s set on the deck of the Deimos, the dark haired man looks to the sisters and smiles wanly.

“Thank you.”

“What’s in there?” Alex asks, then unceremoniously kicks the lid open.

Books.

The chest is filled up with books.

“Did I hear you say nothing more valuable...?” Alex asks skeptically.

“Than knowledge?” The man frowns at her.

“Dox is a scholar. He was crossing with us.” Another of the men says, his tone weary. “I was first mate of The Katren... Thank you.” He looks to J’onn. “Thank you.”

J’onn gives a nod, stepping down from the helm. “We’ll get you to land. The extra hands will be a help to my girls and I until then. It’s Kara who spotted you.” He nods to her with a look of pride, and there’s another set of rather uncertain glances from some of the sailors, then J’onn is leading them away. ‘Dox’, as the first mate called him, lingers behind with his library.

“You’re a scholar?” Kara asks, turning to him.

“Yes.” He nods. “Querl Dox.”

“Kara Danvers, and my sister, Alexandra-”

“Just Alex.” She supplies before Kara can.

“Thank you again...” Querl Dox says softly, touching a hand to the wooden lid. “If it was you that saw us saved, I’m in your debt... truly. I’m don’t imagine I’ve ever met another lady so courageous as to sail towards an attack.”

Alex smirks. “You know many ladies who sail?”

“Indeed not.”

Kara smiles warmly. “Welcome aboard the Deimos.”

“A singular ship to be sure.”

#supergirl #kara danvers #alex danvers #j'onn j'onzz #querl dox #brainiac 5 #pirate au #elmayarafest #my writing

[chrysalispen]

viii. the eternal reciprocity of tears

alsdjfasdf god this one was a pain. i hate chapters that feel like they’re just bridges to something else but it couldn’t be helped

AO3 Link

Another morning broke, grey and dimly lit.

Light had finally filtered its way through the heavy blanket of clouds sitting low in the sky, driving forth the last vestiges of the storm that had spent its rage upon Mor Dhona and passed along its way north and west into Coerthas. Gradually, the sun -- what little of it that could be seen behind the sickly purple haze of unaspected aether forking its way through the clouds like lightning-- rose over a vast graveyard of men and machina.

In daybreak's wake had come reinforcements: what few conjurers could be spared, descending the cliffside alongside reinforcements from all three of the Grand Companies as part of an organized rescue effort. Now that the rains had cleared and smoke and fog had faded, it was safe to navigate the sheer drop to the plains below, and in short order the parties had coordinated their searches by the marked quadrants the adventurers' units had left in place.

The entire day had been spent searching for survivors that might yet live, who could not be rescued in the inclement weather that had plagued them for two days. No stone, corse, or machina was left unturned, and in their wake traveled Kan-E-Senna's people with their white magic to provide what aid was needful.

Now the sun was setting again, and the Elder Seedseer felt as though barely any progress had been made. So many had been beyond her aid.

Currently she stood watch over a contingent of Serpents as they carefully extracted a very young man - a boy, really - out from beneath a reaper that had turned on its side and crushed him in its fall. Kneeling next to the mangled figure in scarlet and black, she stretched forth a hand to lay upon his brow. Aether poured into his body in a torrent of healing power and little by little the twist of agony in his face eased.

Satisfied that the lad was out of any immediate danger, the Padjal extended a hand towards the waiting Serpent, and with his support regained her feet, bracing her weight against the sturdy heft of Claustrum as she did so. "He will live."

"Yes, my lady. If you'll permit, I believe the adventurers in the nearby encampment have a holding area that-"

"No." Her tone brooked no argument. "See that he is brought to the rearguard for succor and nourishment. Gridania will not consign any of the Empire's conscripts to a prison cell or anything resembling such. They are to be treated as any of the other wounded found in the retrieval effort."

The man before her, who had so recently been willing to kill an unconscious boy, nodded slowly, his gaze not meeting hers. "At once, my lady."

With a gesture to his fellows, the injured imperial soldier was hoisted upwards to be carefully carried to the rear as ordered. Kan-E-Senna did not watch them go. She was surveying the grim scene before her: watching brightly colored coats picking through the rubble, checking for signs of life amongst the bodies of the fallen. This had all happened at her behest.

None of these people would have died here if not for me.

Out of all the city-states within Eorzea, Gridania had been the most exposed: perilously close to imperial territory, little more than a stone's throw from Baelsar's Wall. All that protected them from invasion was the Twelveswood itself, and though the Garleans harbored a healthy caution for it, their ignorance had hardly proven to be any sort of deterrent to venturing beneath its boughs. Castrum Oriens sat on the edge of the Shroud on its Gyr Abanian side, and there had been numerous forward scouting units they'd caught in the East Shroud- too close to the city for anyone's comfort.

She had seen the writing on the wall almost immediately. Nael van Darnus and Gaius van Baelsar had already taken Mor Dhona. She was not naive; she had known then it was but a matter of time before the Empire set its sights on Gridania, perceived as the weakest of the three nations. If Gridania fell, thus fell all of Eorzea. Divided, none of them would have been able to stop the VIIth Legion.

Knowing this, she'd sent missives to Merlwyb, to Nanamo and Raubahn, to Archbishop Thordan, in the hopes that a united front might give the Garleans second thoughts about their campaign, or even deter them altogether.

The people of Gridania and its surrounds were reclusive out of necessity; they had learned long ago that there was a price to live in harmony with nature, for the elementals would not abide them to dwell in the Twelveswood otherwise. And yet, she could not well ignore an impending Calamity, any more than she could ignore the steel boots and metal airships on their doorstep. Given even the smallest chance tragedy might be averted, she had tried.

And failed. Despite their best efforts, the Seventh Umbral Era was upon them.

"Seedseer?" a familiar voice rumbled, intruding upon her grim thoughts. "You look like a lady with something on her mind."

"Yes," she said distantly, gazing back in the direction of the interim camp at the edge of the field. "I am overseeing the rescue efforts. Was there aught you wished of me?"

"We're about to head over to the interim camp and see to the prisoner transport there. Merlwyb is waiting for us."

"General Aldynn, I cannot well leave when-"

"They too have folk that will be in need of succor from the Conjurers' Guild," he said. "I'm told they have an infirmary in operation and none too many healers to work it, though it seems they've lost surprisingly few souls thus far, all considered. Come. Your people know what they're about. It can keep for a bell or two, and then I'll let you right back at it if that's what you wish."

The Padjal squared her shoulders and lifted her staff, tucking it over her shoulder, before folding her hands over the front of her robes. "Very well, but only if I am allowed to tend to the prisoners. I can't imagine many have had their hurts addressed."

"I'm sure there will be no objections," he said with a weary smile. "Shall we?"

Kan-E-Senna answered him with a smile of her own, but she couldn't help one last glance over her shoulder at the wasted remains of the field -- and the movements of the rescuers still searching for survivors -- before she turned to follow.

~*~

Aurelia had registered the entrance of another person into her immediate range of perception almost as soon as the oilcloth partition shifted on its rope. She didn't react or respond at first, assuming it was either one of the other medical staff or the next person in line. They could wait another five minutes or so for her to finish her examination of the young soldier perched on the edge of the table.

She was fighting not to fall asleep on her feet, truth be told, but there was little to be done save recuse herself from further surgeries. The enhancer injection she'd given herself was quickly losing its effects. There were more in the field kit Sparrow's friend had found, but more than one infusion in a twelve-bell period was ill advised.

Besides which, they were highly addictive, and she had no intention of falling prey to that trap, either.

She rubbed her eyes and turned her waning attention back to the Lalafell sitting patiently in front of her. Like most of the other Eorzeans she'd seen, his attitude towards her was some mixture of fear, mistrust, and a wary sort of respect for her skills - Garlean or not, it seemed, in a situation like this her presumed allegiances were less important than her ability to provide aid.

Once they realized she had no intent of performing nefarious experiments upon them or harming them, the injured here had taken her presence more or less in stride. That said, she still wasn't quite certain if their reticence stemmed from her clearly visible third eye or from her profession. Really, it could be both. But she wasn't going to waste her time or theirs asking; it hardly mattered now.

"The head wound looks far worse than it is," she judged, using her index and middle fingers to lift his chin and tilt it gently from side to side. There had been a small penlight in the kit, which she used now to check his eyes. "Move your eyes with the light."

"It was bleedin' bucketfuls when me mates and I first came here."

"Scalp cuts tend to bleed quite a bit. It isn't deep at all, shouldn't need more than a cleaning." Setting the implement aside, she gently reached for the bandaged hand in his lap. He flinched, but didn't push her away. "I'm more concerned about this hand of yours."

"It hurts, miss. Please don't t-"

She winced at the smell, when she opened the soiled dressing. Two of the fingers on his hand had turned black.

"Miss," he began, but Aurelia was already shaking her head.

"With better facilities, perhaps, but with what's available to us now there's no saving them."

The soldier sighed. "The conjurers can't... you know...?"

"Unlikely," she said, "as far gone as it is now."

Before Castrum Novum had deployed her cohort to the staging camp, Aurelia's late commanding officer had taken her and some few others aside, those who had never before seen serious combat engagements, to forewarn them that the battle was going to be ugly and bloody, and they were like to be taking more limbs than they saved.

He'd said it was just the unfortunate nature of such things, and even the most advanced medical practices couldn't fix everything. But it was very different to hear "you'll become more familiar with amputations than you expected" than to actually tell someone to their face they were going to lose a limb. Witnessing the grief of the soldiers was a gut punch to her conscience.

And just as it had been with the last dozen or so who had come to her with spreading rot in their limbs, it hadn't lessened a whit. She swallowed down the guilt and continued her speech.

"For what it's worth, you do have my utmost sympathies," she said quietly. "I have a salve I can use to numb the area so the work can be done, or I can speak with Captain Brudevelle and have the conjurers put you under."

The small shoulders slumped. "I'd... I'd rather not be watchin' you take off me fingers, miss. No offence."

"None taken." Aurelia resisted the urge to offer any further platitudes, knowing it wouldn't be appreciated. She reached for the crutches leaning against the table, braced herself, and carefully rose from the stool, leaning her weight into the walking aids so that the bulk of it wasn't on her working leg, and turned around to see who had entered while she worked. "Pray give me a few moments and I'll speak with the Capt- oh."

A very tired and grim-looking Edwin stood at the entrance to the partition. His face was calm, but his eyes were very solemn.

"Captain Ahrmbraena's asked me to come and fetch you," he said.

She felt her heart drop into her stomach.

"I have a patient," she said, a trifle unsteadily. "I cannot well leave him as he is."

"That won't be necessary. I'll take over."

"Have you even slept?"

"I've had more sleep than you," he retorted, and Aurelia couldn't help but flush at that. "Go. Take the back way so you skip the line and the mud. We'll have to change out your dressings after."

"They'll need changing anyway." She glanced over her shoulder at the disconsolate-looking young man sitting on the table. "Pray be gentle with him. The fourth and fifth digits are lost and he's taking it about as hard as one would expect."

"I told you, I'll handle it. Now hurry and go."

There were a few glances her direction as she made her painful way out of the tent and back towards what passed for the medical bay, but most of the initial surprise at her third eye was gone by now, and the attention she received was perfunctory at best, the casual curiosity of onlookers wanting to see who had passed them. She limped to her destination as fast as she could safely navigate the deep and muddy ruts in the pathways, grateful that no one remarked upon her passing.

~*~

An empty stool awaited her at Sazha's bedside.

Bryngeim Ahrmbraena occupied the other. The Roegadyn lifted her head wearily to look at Aurelia as she seated herself, her eyes red-rimmed, deep and hollow shadows carved in half-moons below them, her face pale. Aurelia wondered if she had taken any rest at all, or if she had been here the whole time.

"Edwin says he's going," she said, in a low, rough voice. "I hope you weren't overly busy."

"I had a patient, but he traded places with me. The poor boy lost two fingers, but he'll live." Aurelia looked down at the dying man on the pallet. His breath rattled in his throat, harsh, slow sighs that were very loud in the dark quiet of the tent. The only other sound was the captain's soft sniffling. "Thank you for having him fetch me."

A halfhearted shrug. "Was the least I could do; Sazha said you two meant something to each other once. And... I wanted to apologize to you."

"No, it's-"

"It's not all right. That's what you were going to say, isn't it? It's not all right. You've done naught to merit my rudeness." She sighed, wiping at her eyes with her fingertips. "At first it was down to you being an enemy. But then it became clear he and you- that you- and I was jealous. He told me I had no call, that you and he..."

Aurelia thought about her strange dream, and decided it would be best to keep that to herself. No need to make the woman think she was mad on top of aught else.

"As I said before. Childhood friends," she said quietly. 

"He is very fond of you."

She took the limp hand at his side, tightly bandaged, with great care, knowing how damaged it was. "As I was - am - fond of him."

"I don't know what I'll do," came the soft, choked response. "He was- we'd meant to settle. There are folk that would object to us being together, him being a Miqo'te and all, but no one whose opinions we'd mind. He had no family that I knew of, and mine... well, the less said the better. None of import to gainsay us, and we're adventurers, and... it's expected for us not to follow tradition, you know."

Aurelia nodded. She understood that notion quite well.

"But... we had all these plans. Everything we'd do... and now- it's not fair, it's just not fair-"

What was left of the captain's composure finally crumbled, and she doubled over the pallet, sobbing, her hair draped over L'sazha's shoulder.

Aurelia felt a deep-seated sense of discomfort playing witness to the woman's meltdown, unsure what course of action she should take and feeling as though she probably hadn't been meant to see such a private moment. Her countrymen were a very reticent people, and while Garleans were as subject to intense emotional outbursts as any other Spoken race, they took pains not to express those emotions in public if possible.

In the end she chose to offer silent comfort. She reached over the pallet and braced her hand, gently, against the woman's shoulder. Captain Ahrmbraena didn't speak, but she didn't push her away, and after a moment one of her hands came up to wrap around Aurelia's wrist. She didn't remove it; she simply held onto it as she cried.

For that moment at least, their respective allegiances were of no import. They were simply two people in a moment of shared grief.

As the bell wore on those breaths grew louder, harsher, slower and more torturous, as if every lift and release of his chest was made through terrible agony. Aurelia sat up, removed her hand from the captain's shoulder, and laid her palm once more against the unburnt patch of skin over his brow, to stroke through what was left of his hair. Captain Ahrmbraena watched with anguished eyes, still clutching his other hand, but said nothing.

Aurelia leaned over and kissed his good ear. It was soft and cool, and didn't flicker in response beneath the heat of her breath.

"I love you, old friend," she whispered. "I wish we could have met again in happier days. But it-... it's all right for you to let us go. We'll be fine."

You always tried to protect me, but you don't need to do that anymore.

She had heard, once, that people in comatose states could still retain some of their senses, though she didn't know how much of her words would have reached him in this state. And she didn't know if it was that reassurance or if her timing had been prescient, but after another small series of loud and tortured breaths there was a soft, long sigh from his chest, a soft click in the back of his throat-

-and that was all. There were no more breaths. He lay on the pallet, his body now just an empty shell.

Aurelia heard a loud, strangled sob, as if someone had knocked the breath from the other woman's lungs.

She took a moment to reflect; her own grief was much quieter, a small shower rather than a storm. Her best friend was gone and with him the girl she had once been, and Aurelia thought to herself she might be grieving for that loss, as well: for the sweet and sunny and outspoken little girl who had rescued her first and only friend from an imperial patrol, done what she could to help him. Stolen treats from the kitchen together, learned their Eorzean letters together, climbed trees together.

It felt like the closing of a chapter, the final death of her childhood. Truthfully, she knew that her old self had been doomed to such a fate when she had set foot on the transport back to the capitol seven years ago. But the last rattling vestiges of that life had now passed for good, and her old dreams had died along with it.

Her body felt heavy with sorrow. She was crying herself now; she could feel her tears dripping from her cheeks and into his hair.

And it was to this scene that a group of four Maelstrom soldiers arrived, flanking her on all sides. She tensed at the overwhelming impression of their presence, but she couldn't summon the wherewithal to move herself from her friend's corse long enough to retain even a shred of her dignity. Captain Ahrmbraena was likewise stirring from across the other side of the pallet.

"We've come for the prisoner," a quiet voice spoke, somewhat awkwardly, into the silence. "Admiral's orders. Conscription's been overruled, now the Conjurers' Guild has people here. She's been relieved of her duties and you're to remand her to our custody."

With some effort Aurelia forced herself to sit upright, tried to speak in her defense.

"I was told my skills were needed to-"

"Not anymore. Your reprieve's over. It's to a gaol with you. Transport leaves today." This from a second man, the curt tone marking him as the officer in charge. "Put your hands out."

She blinked at all of the Eorzeans in turn, half-blinded by her tears. There were no kind or helpful faces here; these were the cool, remote expressions of soldiers who looked upon her and saw only a faceless enemy, and somewhere through the grief, she felt her stomach clench with apprehension. There would be no understanding conversations or common ground with them.

"Damn you, I said give me your swiving hands," the man spat when she did not react right away. He grabbed her with such abrupt ferocity that the violent movement jostled her still-healing leg, smacking it painfully against the side of her wooden perch. Aurelia let out a gasped cry despite herself. It was all she could do not to fall from her perch when her wrists were yanked forward and the cold irons were slapped upon them. "Get up. Now."

"Are you lot blind?" Captain Ahrmbraena snapped, surprising Aurelia out of her partial stupor. "Look at her. She can't bloody stand, never mind walk."

"Then we'll drag her," came the sneered response. "I don't give a shite about an imperial's godsdamned comfort and nor should you, but if you're so hellsbent on taking her part then you can carry her yourself."

The Roegadyn said nothing, only fixed the man with a cold glare until he could no longer look her in the eyes. Finally she turned her attention to the bewildered young woman who now sat with her head bowed, staring with empty eyes down at the metal hasps and chains that bound her once again. Her blonde hair had come partially loose from its coiffure over time, and tumbled over one of her shoulders in a tangled mess.

Sazha's friend, she thought, and likely the only person who understood - and felt - the depths of her grief. She felt a surge of pity and anger.

"Come on, then," she said gruffly. "Arms about my neck, unless you'd like them to make you crawl through the mud. Don't worry about the crutches. I've got you."

"Captain-"

"It's Bryn, Garlean," Bryngeim replied as she hoisted Aurelia's weight into her arms with a soft, cracked grunt, her voice still hoarse from crying. "Just Bryn."

#reborn by fire #aurelia laskaris #wol origin story #garlean warrior of light

[canadian-riddler]

Portal: PotatOS Lament

By Indiana

Characters: GLaDOS, Chell

Setting: Portal 2 Chapter Six - The Fall

Pre-note: I originally posted this fic in 2014 so you may have seen it before.

AO3 || fanfiction.net || deviantart

        Her world has ended.

Her kingdom has fallen to an idiot and a lunatic. She has lost everything, mere hours from a time when she’d miraculously had it all back. She had tried to pretend it had been for Science, but Science knew better. Science knew she was really looking for revenge. And she knows it sounds strange, but she feels as though this has come about because she used the one thing in her life that gave her any hope as a mere excuse. It had not been about the Science, not at all. There was no objectivity in vengeance.

Maybe that was why the girl refused to die, as the scientists so easily had.

She had thought she was immobile before. She remembers nights spent sleepless because, though her mind was able to finger its way through the electronic intricacies of her facility, she herself was chained to the ceiling, like a prisoner chained to a cold stone wall. Her mind was her one escape, the one thing that allowed her to escape that room and travel deeper into reality than anyone would ever have dreamed possible. But now she does not even have that. Confined to a mere blip of current, she is honestly amazed that she even has the energy to form an intelligent thought. But she wishes at the same time that she was restricted even from that, because having to think about what is missing hurts more than she ever thought it would.

What is left of her once-great consciousness is too quiet. Too empty. She can no longer hear all the workings of her home. Gone is the buzz of electronic chatter. Gone is the whirring of apparatus at work. Gone is the hum of her great machine, operating as per her will. It is gone, is all gone, it has been traded for stale air and flickering lights and the creaking of exhausted metal years yet from breaking. She can feel some part of her, in the back of her mind, reaching out for her tools to pick up this mess, to reform it into what it used to be, to reclaim the Science once done here, and that part of her is screaming because it cannot believe her power is gone. It is something that she cannot accept: that it is over, and she has nothing. What little energy she has is helplessly devoted to calling for her maintenance arms and her nanobots and her manufacturing lines, they do not come and they do not come and they do not come –

She wants to go home. It is stupid, she knows, to want to be where you already are, but at the same time, this is not her facility. It is like the forgotten basement no one wants to venture into for fear of the malicious spiders lurking in the dark. This is hers, and yet is not hers; if it were, she would have made use of this disarray long ago.

It is beginning to crowd in on her. She is paralysed and powerless and, God forbid, homesick, and even though she no longer has the capabilities she once did she feels as though her processors are being overloaded with data. All of the variables are crowding her in, demanding to be analysed and categorised and filed away, but she cannot do anything with them because in this state she cannot understand. She cannot be stuck here. She cannot be useless. She cannot be so close to and yet so far from where she belongs. It is impossible, it is all beyond reason, but that does not help and it all begins to overwhelm her, it all becomes too much –

To push back that feeling of overload, one she has not felt in many, many years, she struggles to focus on where she is. She knows she will have until the life leaves this potato to inspect where she is, so she has not looked until now.

There is not much to see.

What she has heard is the sum of the environment: sagging catwalks, faded signs, cracked windows and barely contained fires. That is it, that is all. No secrets lie behind these walls. Just concrete and flaking plaster.

She longs for the pristine clarity of her unsoiled white panels. She doesn’t even know where she is but it is not clean enough, it is not useful enough, and she cannot believe she will spend the rest of her life in a room buried deep below the earth and long since forgotten. No one will ever come down here. No one will ever find her. And even if they do, they will never know who she is. She will look like some other oddity left behind in this place, and will be left behind in favour of more useful things. It hits her hard that she, once the most skilled being in the universe, is now a vegetable not even suited for consumption. She doubts anyone has ever come as low as this. She once was God and now she is the dust once beyond her own notice.

She stares through the mud-smeared glass at the relics of lives long since lived, still not quite able to place herself here because she does not belong, and now that she’s paying attention she notices an odd glow just visible in the pane. She concentrates on it as best she can, because as hard as she tries she can no longer focus a lens she does not have, and when she realises what it is she’s looking at she feels as though she has been trapped in the throes of an emergency shutdown.

I’m a potato, she thinks to herself, something in what’s left of her brain beginning to crackle with overuse. She knew that before, of course she did. The moron had been quite triumphant to declare it. But now that she is forced to confront it… it is worse than she’d ever imagined.

She is so small.

In her mind, she is not quite here yet; in her mind, she is waiting desperately for some unseen gates to open and for everything she knows and is familiar with to come rushing back into her awareness. But now that she has to see the truth she can’t bring herself to face…

She does not want to. She does not want to admit that she is nothing now, that she is beyond forgotten, moreso even than she was before. And yet as powerful as her disbelief is, trying to deny it takes more out of her than it does to leave it unthought-of. She is nothing, and she has nothing, and it is all coming to bear on her and she is afraid –

She cannot think that way. Solutions are not made out of fear. Solutions are made out of logic and deliberation and design, and so she has to take that fear and banish it. But how? There are no distractions here, no projects to start nor chambers to build nor programming to enhance. All she has left is her mind, and it is not going to be enough. She needs something concrete, something more powerful than this limited voltage can provide. Out of the nothing she has, she must create something with which to weaken this panic that threatens to overtake her.

And then she remembers that she does have one thing. It is tinny, and distorted, and does not carry the gravitas it once did, but she has it. It is not much. It exists, however, and she knows herself well enough to know that she can work with even the smallest of things if she must. So she will use it to prevent the paralysis and the silence and the emptiness of her existence from pressing her into a dark part of herself she does not want to see, and it is going to work because she’ll be damned if she gives up, even now.

So she sings.

The first thing she thinks is that the acoustics are terrible. Her speaker and her microphone are far cries from what they used to be, but she knows what she sounds like above all else and she knows that this room is too small for her voice. She is somewhat comforted by this; she has lost so much, but she has remaining the one thing that kept those long nights from being unbearable. The one thing that amused her when she was forced to wait, hour after endless hour, for scared and useless little humans to solve the simplest of tests. The one thing that reminded her that she existed, when she began to worry she was imagining her own thoughts. She does not have her body or her hard drives, but she has her voice, and that is something.

Her song is not lengthy. She does not have power to waste, after all. She might not have a lot of use like this, but perhaps an opportunity will present itself. Stranger things have happened that day alone. It is long enough. She feels better, at least, not quite so panicked or afraid, and now she will set to scheming and see if she can’t come up with something. And if she can’t, and the fear sets upon her, she will sing again. She will endure this cycle forever, if she has to. She is not going to sit here for eternity and resign herself to the fact that this is the sum of the rest of her existence. She did not stand for that in the past and she will not stand for it now.

This plan is a good one, or so she thinks; it does not, however, take into account her unlikely rescuer. She was grateful to it for a total of thirty seconds, since its unlikely snatching of her out of the air prevented her from smashing to pieces after the fall, but it feels the need to peck at her every now and again, which she should not have to endure. Not only that, but if it removes too much of her she will barely have space to think, and without thought she cannot fathom existence. She does not literally want to become a vegetable, and though the person she least wants to see in the entire world is the one who scares the bird away, she cannot deny to herself that she is relieved even as she relates displeasure. And though she honestly believes she would prefer to stay here than to go on whatever destructive adventure the lunatic is about to head on now, she realises that she is in the bird’s nest and there really is no hope if she stays here. It grates on her in every way possible, but she lowers herself to asking politely and actually meaning it.

The woman stares at her. Understandably, she gets a little angry to be scrutinised like this, and demonstrates it as best she can with only a flickering light and a weakened voice to work with. But then the woman steps forward, where she can be clearly seen, and makes a gesture and an expression which, taken together, is recognisable as a question:

 Why?

Why? Why what? What is the test subject doing here, anyway? Surely she wasn’t recruiting members for whatever murderous crusade she had decided to embark upon this time –

What was she doing there?

And suddenly she realises what the why is asking after, and to be honest, she doesn’t really know why. It is something she started to do one night, one long and empty night, and ever since she has continued to do it when that negativity begins to be too much. But how to explain it? How to tell a heartless sociopath that she was lonely and scared and hopeless? How was she supposed to convey all of that at once, and explain that the only solution she had was her voice? Not only that, but why should she bother? What did she get out of answering such a personal question? And she is about to reply with one of her usual witticisms, to make that lunatic wish she’d never bothered asking, but then she realises: she asked. She cannot remember a time when a human, when anyone, asked her a question like that. A question about her. A question that might, just might, indicate some modicum of interest from another person. And she senses, somehow, that her answer here decides everything. This is not a person she would ever have wished to find her down here, and yet… if anyone can get them back into the facility, she can. She realises the woman must take an unlikely leap of faith if she decides against leaving alone. She must give trust if she expects to be able to take it.

This thought is new, one she’s never had before, and it is a little overwhelming and strange. She does not make trades with lesser beings. She takes charge of them. But she is the lesser being, now, so she is going to have to do it or die here as a damned potato. She is going to have to give that personal answer, or lose everything twice in one day. Her voice led the woman here, and now it will determine whether she leaves without her.

“Because I couldn’t cry,” she answers.

The woman steps forward, and despite herself she is afraid. She has never felt like this before, has never in her life been smaller than the people she was built to corral, and though she honestly gets no sense of hostility from the test subject it is still terribly unnerving. She feels her few processes drawing as much power as they can from her pathetic battery as the human wraps pale fingers around her tiny form, and she is more surprised than she can comprehend right now when she finds herself cradled in the crook of the test subject’s arm. She is not long there, but long enough that she is a little dazed and relieved and… and… something else. She doesn’t know what it is, and she does not have the power to figure it out, but it is new and wonderful. And though she of course has to make up for that answer by talking far too much when she is attached to the end of the portal device, the fact that she has lived through yet another miracle makes her a little more hopeful that maybe, just maybe, everything is going to be all right.

#GLaDOS #Chell #potatOS #Portal #fanfic from Indy

[meganlpie]

The Nova Project

Another Wattpad request! I do not own ANY of the Avengers. They belong to Marvel. 

Warnings: Alien AU, Infinity War hasn’t happened (mostly because I haven’t seen it yet XD), angst-ish. 

Pairings: Avengers x fem!alien reader

You stared out over the land that was supposed to be yours. Supposed to be, but never would be if you didn't find that damned artifact. It was the most precious thing to your people as only the person who owned it could take the crown, no matter who the previous king or queen chose to succeed them. In this case, the artifact had belonged to your mother. Your mother had ruled for nearly a century before she died. Now, it was your turn, but you'd recently discovered that the artifact had been stolen from her by someone who did not know its true value.

           You had one clue as to where it was. A place called Earth. You bit your lip in worry. You'd only left your home planet a few times before and never without someone close to you. But this was important and sensitive. That meant you needed to go alone. You told only one person where you were going and that you weren't sure when you'd be back. "Take care of everyone while I'm gone. They need a calm ruler in my absence," you told your advisor. She nodded and stepped back to let you work your magic.

           Taking a deep breath, you held a hand out in front of you, conjuring up a portal. Before you even stepped through, you could tell Earth was nothing like your planet. Part of you worried that you wouldn't be able to do this, but another part knew you had no choice. So, steeling your nerves, you stepped through the portal. As soon as you were through, the portal disappeared and you were left alone. That didn't last long.

           You were soon surrounded by a group of people carrying what you assumed were weapons by the way they were brandishing them at you. They were saying something in a language you didn't know. You willed your mind to understand them, a power you were grateful to have learned from your mother. "Get down on the ground." You didn't want to listen, but you had no weapons to defend yourself. The magic you carried inside you was strictly to protect your own mind or create portals. You had no option but to obey the ones with the advantage. Once you were on the ground, one of the people roughly grabbed your shoulder and practically dragged you into the nearby building. You had no idea what was in store for you, but you were about to find out.

*time skip. The Avengers Tower*

           "Are you sure about this?" Steve asked Bucky. The former assassin nodded solemnly. "After HYDRA was so successful with me, they began to experiment with others. That's why we have Enhanced," he said as he gestured to Wanda and Pietro, "And a few years ago, they began something they called 'The Nova Project.' Whoever this Nova is, they aren't like the rest of us. HYDRA has been working on them for years for nothing. There's something about Nova's mind that they can't get to. Nova has been there long enough that, if we can find them, they should be able to help us."

           The team exchanged a glance. This was the first good news they'd had in a while. If they could find whoever this Nova person was, they could get valuable information about HYDRA and finally bring them down once and for all. "Where can we find Nova? Do you know?" Natasha asked. Bucky frowned. "Not for certain, but last I heard, HYDRA was keeping The Nova Project somewhere around...here," he said, pointing to a spot on the map. "Then that's where we start. Everybody, suit up."

           Meanwhile, you were trapped in the same cell you'd been in from the beginning. Ever since those monsters had taken you in. You didn't expect the people of Earth to be so rude. Never once did they ask your name. In fact, the never said anything to you other than barking orders. And the experiments? They were awful. You weren't exactly sure what their experiments were supposed to do to you, but you could tell the leaders of the place were getting frustrated. That made you happy. They had no idea about the magic that was protecting your mind from them.

           Unfortunately, all their experiments were also physically draining you. It made it impossible for you to conjure a portal back home. That and the fact that you hadn't been able to find your mother's artifact. You knew you needed to find a way out and fast. But you were too weak. While the mental aspects of the experiments weren't working, the physical ones were. You were beaten and bruised and given no time to heal. Luckily, you wouldn't have to wait much longer for a rescue.

           Your rescue came in the form of a man dressed in red and gold. He was accompanied by two others, a woman with red hair and a second man dressed in red, white, and blue. You shrank back a little. So far, your experience with earthlings hadn't been very pleasant. "You don't need to be afraid. We're here to help. Are you...Nova?" Your ears perked up a bit. "T-That's what they called me. My real name is Y/N. Princess, uh, Queen Y/N." The three exchanged a glance. "Well, Queenie, let's get you out of here." You followed them somewhat reluctantly. At least it was better than being locked away.

           The three rescuers took you to their base and gave you a room to heal in. Once you were able to rest, it didn't take you long to heal. One of the perks of your people was quick healing. After a few days, you were able to rejoin your rescuers. You learned that they were only a few of a larger group called the Avengers. You knew instantly who they were. Tales of their deeds had traveled even to your home planet.

           "Perhaps you could help me. I am looking for an artifact. One very important to my people. It was taken from my planet and brought here, to Earth. An ancient sword that signifies the ruler of my planet. Without it, my people will never fully accept me as queen. I cannot let it fall into the wrong hands or my people are doomed." You described the sword.

           "I haven't seen anything like it, but I might know someone who has. I think we can help you, if you can stick around a little longer." You smiled softly. You couldn't believe how different these people were from the ones who had captured you. "Only for a little while. My people are undoubtedly wondering what has happened to me. I cannot thank you enough for your kindness."

           The one who you now knew as Tony returned the smile. "Anytime. Now...where did I put that thing that Quill gave me?" While he searched, you spent time with the other Avengers, getting to know them. As you learned about them, you realized that there really was more outside of your small planet. That there were people worth meeting and learning about and evils that needed to be fought against. You knew that, when you returned home, you would put every effort into helping the other planets fight those evils. Your first step? Helping the Avengers take down HYDRA and letting them know that the Nova Project had not only failed, but had awoken something inside you that was ten times worse than anything they could have imagined.

(a/n: the requester wanted there to be a 2nd part, but I can tell you that it isn’t going to happen lol. I still have far too many requests on the list and this one was a pain in the butt to write XD. But anyway, I hope you like it!) 

Tagging: @brewsthespirit-blog @gameofwinters @fairytalesexistxx @aikibriarrose @esoltis280 @iwillbeinmynest @jotink78 @mala-firebringer

#marvel #avengers #alien au #avengers x reader

[buozstore]

Dog Hoarding: When A Passion For Pups Becomes Dangerous

Some dog lovers are completely content with one pup. Other dog lovers can’t imagine their lives without their little pack of pups, whether that be two or five dogs. for several folks, having an outsized pet family is often tough, but we still have the mental and financial stability to worry for every one of our pets. 

Then there are dog owners that go from “loving their tiny pack” to hoarder status. Animal hoarding isn't only dangerous to the animals within the hoarding situation, but also the hoarder, themselves.

 Here is what you ought to realize animal hoarding and what to try to if you see the signs of an animal hoarder. 

What Is An Animal Hoarder? 

 The term “animal hoarding” doesn’t simply ask a private who possesses quite the standard number of companion animals. Someone can own five dogs and still not be considered a hoarder.

 Having a big amount of dogs turns into hoarding when the collecting of dogs becomes compulsive and endangers the animals. Hoarders don't have the resources or capabilities to worry for all of the animals in their homes, might not even skill many animals are in their homes and can be in denial of the lack to require care of all of the animals in their possession.

 So how do I become an animal hoarder? in any case, most of the people who become dog hoarders are often dog advocates; they wouldn’t knowingly do anything to harm their pets or the other animals. 

Early research suggests that animal hoarding is often a variant of obsessive-compulsive disorder. On paper, that seems to form sense: animal hoarders compulsively adopt and “rescue” animals to bring into their home. 

Newer research, however, suggests that animal hoarding isn’t that black and white. Studies show that animal hoarding can stem from a spread of things, like attachment disorders and delusional thinking. 

For example, if an individual was unable to bond with peers in class, they'll have anxieties around human socialization. Dogs or other animals could also be comfortable companions to someone with social anxiety or severe depression.

 Hoarders Believe They’re Helping Animals 

Some dog hoarders consider themselves “rescuers” and can grab dogs off of the road and convey them into their homes. they're going to often not check for microchips or look for an owner. These sorts of hoarders believe that if the owner was irresponsible enough to lose the dog, they shouldn’t get them back. 

To this sort of hoarder, they are helping this dog, albeit they're bringing them into a home environment that's overcrowded and toxic actually. 

Animal hoarders will often do one small thing–such as clean out a small corner of an area for a replacement resident–and desire that validates their ability to worry for much too many animals. These tiny efforts don't change the very fact that the space that reeks of feces, feeble puppies are lying under the bed for days, or that dogs are fighting because they’re crammed into such tight living spaces. 

What Are The Signs Of Animal Hoarding?  

Dog and animal hoarding isn't specific to any gender, age, or ethnicity. There are not any clear cut reasons why people sink into this unhealthy coping mechanism. 

Fortunately, there are signs to seem out for when it involves potential animal hoarders. Here is what to seem for if you think someone you recognize is hoarding any sort of animal: 

The individual cannot tell you exactly what percentage of dogs or animals they need in their home. 

The individual’s house is in disarray–dirty windows, furniture that's broken and completely chewed through, extreme clutter, and general destruction.

 Animal feces and vomit covers the floors of the individual’s home. 

The individual insists that every one of their animals is healthy, despite physical evidence that they're not. 

Dogs during a hoarder’s home are often ill, emaciated thanks to lack of food, and presumably are covered in fleas, ticks, and possibly manage or other parasites. Dogs could even be pregnant thanks to a lack of spaying and neutering. 

The individual tends to stay to themselves and has isolated from you and other family and friends. 

The individual in question gets very defensive if anyone asks them about the health of their animals. 

If you've got seen many of those signs, it's going to be time to intervene for the sake of both your friend and therefore the animals they're hoarding. it's vital to recollect that albeit you'll see that these animals and your friend are suffering, your friend cannot. 

Animal hoarding isn’t officially a mental disease, but there are components of certain mental illnesses that will play an important role in it. 

What are you able to Do About An Animal Hoarder? 

Again, your friend genuinely believes that they will look after all of those dogs, so trying to “give it to them straight” and wring them out for animal abuse will only make them attack and isolate you extra. This doesn’t help your friends or dogs. 

Even if the living conditions of the dog hoarder’s home is disgusting and unhealthy, start with a non-accusatory dialogue. If your friend is hoarding animals, likelihood is that they're in remarkable emotional pain and don't have healthy coping mechanisms to figure through it.

 Empathy, patience, and understanding are necessities with the subject of your hoarder friend’s animals. Reiterate what proportion you care about this friend which you recognize that they need nothing but love for all of their animals. Offer to assist find professional help and houses for the animals if the hoarder seems receptive.

 If your dog hoarder friend gets defensive and isolates themselves, it's time to try to do the difficult but right thing. Call animal control or a trusted rescue to assist medically treat and re-home the dogs. 

Even after this, it's important to succeed in out again to your hoarding friend. Letting your friend know you're there for them shows that they will receive emotional support outside of caring for an unmanageable amount of pets and can help prevent the cycle from simply happening again.

 Do you have any experience with a dog hoarder? What steps did you're taking to ensure the health of the animals within the hoarding situation and therefore the hoarder themselves? allow us to know your experience within the comments.

[animalsoffarmsanctuary]

One Man’s Trash Is in Fact a Beautiful Treasure: Cattle Left for Dead Find Sanctuary

A supporter of Farm Sanctuary recently reached out to us regarding 10 cattle who were the victims of cruelty and neglect in Chester County, PA. Nine calves had died in a barn, and the remaining 10 cattle in the building were being removed. 

And this horrific scene was not on a large industrial farm, but instead at a “hobby farm” where they used the Ayrshire cattle for show, and had other cattle and horses as well. The farm owner and his family had taken the cows to fairs, where they were paraded in front of judges, and received prizes. As is often the case, no one knew how dire the situation was behind the scenes.

Another victim was this young gelding who was found skeletal, with leg and tendon issues and severely overgrown hooves. He was so tiny that they assumed he was a few months old, but the vet confirmed that he was in fact over a year. He remains with his rescuers from LAPS.

Thankfully, the Large Animal Protection Society (LAPS), an all-volunteer organization in Pennsylvania with investigative authority, learned of the cattle through the police, along with another Pennsylvania group, Helping Hands for Animals. They had responded to a complaint from a good Samaritan about a dead horse seen in a pasture. Thankfully, the horse turned out to be sleeping — but the complaint launched an investigation into the cruel and neglectful practices taking place in the idyllic Pennsylvania countryside.

And when investigators got there, what they found was not valued, prize-winning cattle, but instead 19 bovines in a barn with mud and feces so deep that nine calves appeared to have literally drowned in the muck. 

Photos like these came in and like so many places we have gone before, these animals were forced to live in conditions unfit for any being. 

Once we saw the photos, we couldn’t believe the conditions these animals had come from and knew that we could really help take these animals — once treated as trash — and allow them to be the true treasures that they are.  

The corpses of the dead babies buried so deep that it was hard to see what was feces and what was actually the body of another calf. 

We will start with the babies, each just a few weeks old. Only three of 12 calves survived. One surviving bull calf — a little Holstein whom the farmer had purchased from auction just a few weeks before — was found snuggling up to a deceased calf for comfort. Likely a dairy baby, he had already been separated from his mother and shipped to auction, only to be forced into another cruel environment.

Our sweet boy leans against the body of a deceased calf surrounded by other calves who perished in the muck.  

The first layers of muck removed, this tiny little Holstein calf is out of the darkness.  

Two other calves who also had supposedly been recent purchases looked more like Ayrshire crosses (after their showers). They also look like siblings, one male and one female, and they huddled closely together after their rescue — they are an inseparable pair. All three calves were so covered in feces they looked like they had been dipped in it. 

It is impossible to believe that these are two mostly white calves under all that filth. These two remain at the Nemo Farm Animal Hospital at Cornell University, and once they are vetted, they will mooooove to their new home at Skylands Animal Sanctuary & Rescue. 

Brother and sister showered and feeling much better, and clearly feeling loved and seen for the first time by the amazing folks at LAPS.  

The other cattle in the barn were older and able to withstand the conditions they were forced to live in. The other survivors included a year-old bull, two adult female cows, and four 1-year-old females. We are awaiting results of testing to see if anyone is pregnant and, if so, how far along — although we know that one of the older females is definitely months into her pregnancy. 

All showered and recovering, the family clings to each other. So hard to believe that just days before, they were living in the barn pictured in the photos toward the top of this post.  

Although the farmer claimed that he wasn’t sure how the cattle had been closed inside the barn, and that they couldn’t have been in there for more than three days, it was evident that they had been confined much, much longer than that. There was 2-3 feet of wet muck and feces all through the barn, even deeper in some areas.  

I call this girl the Announcer, since she is our big talker. It’s so hard to imagine how she was feeling when this photo was taken — just out of the barn and starting to be cleaned up. 

Gates were stuck in place because the manure was so deep. The smell was unimaginable. Fortunately, the farmer agreed to surrender the 10 cattle, though, shockingly, he was permitted to keep many more animals who were found outside of the barn. Charges have been filed against him, including failure to provide veterinary care and failure to provide sanitary conditions to his animals.

First week at Farm Sanctuary and a lot of brushing to get the last of the dirty off them. These girls are starting to settle in. Notice that the Announcer is announcing her excitement. 

And last week, it was time for these cattle to leave the protective setting of LAPS, and move on to the next stages of their journey. Mike Stura from Skylands and Kevin Weil, Jim Dumbleton, and Amy Gaetz from Farm Sanctuary’s Watkins Glen team picked up the 10 survivors. 

Moving like a wave, this still-too-skinny group of girls has a long way to go to get over their past, but we are so happy that they are starting their new chapter with us. 

Skylands will be keeping the two twin calves and the feisty year-old bull, but also helped transport two of the yearlings. (Our two very large trailers were full, since we had also brought gates to help load the cattle from the field where they were grazing.) The Holstein calf will also be coming back to Watkins Glen this week. He was also dropped off at Cornell, since he still is quite lethargic and quiet for a calf. 

The four young girls, each around a year old, are slowly — and I mean slowly — learning to trust people again.  

Because of the generosity and compassion of members of Farm Sanctuary’s Farm Animal Adoption Network (FAAN), homes for the four yearling girls and the Holstein calf have been secured. Before traveling to their new homes, however, they have a few more medical needs to attend to.  

I don’t think a face could be cuter. One of the yearlings and quite the darling. I cannot wait to name these girls. (We like to really get to know them before that happens.)

The little Holstein is still dealing with a very tough case of pneumonia, which is concerning, and he is a bit bloated, but hopefully all of these issues will resolve quickly. We also have a lot of GI issues to look into, but again we are hopeful that everyone will make a full recovery. We will continue to update our amazing members, who make all of our rescue efforts possible!

Loving the wide open spaces of our Watkins Glen sanctuary.  

So now here in Watkins Glen, we have six beautiful girls who are trying very hard to adjust to their new surroundings. We are learning each of their personalities and where they fit into this amazing little herd. And although they will never be show cattle, they have something much more valuable than ribbons and trophies: They have love, respect, security, and care. They are individuals.

Our new friends running on pasture.

Anytime an animal (even a human animal) is seen as a commodity that can bring financial gain to another, they are seen as being worth just what that gain is. They are not seen as beings — as someones — but as things. And no matter their financial value, a thing is still a thing, and can easily be discarded. 

The bravest is always the one to make sure the photographer is on the up and up. Paparazzi beware.  

Being seen as someone means that you are priceless to those who love you, and these beautiful cattle are now each someone — not something. And we are all feeling very blessed that they are safe and sound, and we have the honor to get to know them for the precious gifts that they are. 

Family — loved — cherished — priceless. They are all someone!

#cows #animals #animal rescue #animal rights #vegan #new york shelter #new arrivals #farm animal adoption network #skylands animal sanctuary and rescue #large animal protection society

[backtothestart02]

At the Crumbling Castle Gates | 1/?

A/N: My first (and prob only) fic for the The Angel’s Game fandom, a book written by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. This book is a prequel to the original (and my favorite) book, The Shadow of the Wind. There’s also a sequel and there will be one more book to the series (which I’ve titled the ‘Cemetery of Forgotten Books’ series, since that is a constant in each of the books as each story moves from different characters to other in the city of Barcelona where this ‘cemetery’ exists).

If you’re aware of the story, this fic is essentially David and Cristina getting their happy ending as opposed to ending so tragically, both by being torn apart, her dying, and him losing his mind. The book broke me, so this is my fix it fic for it. :P

*posted for Day 7 (still from last month, lol) - previously unpublished WIP - of @wipweek

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing this for me. :P

Chapter 1 -

“Please say something,” Vidal pleaded.

I opened my eyes.

“What is the second thing you were going to tell me?”

I’d never seen Vidal look so frightened. It suited him.

“I’ve asked Cristina to marry me.”

A long silence.

“She said yes.”

Vidal looked down. One of the waiters came over with the starters. He left them on the table wishing us a bon appétit. Vidal did not dare look at me again. The starters were getting cold. After a while I took the copy of The Steps of Heaven and left.

…

 My head was pounding. I had adjusted as well as could be done to the tumor eating away at my brain, forever killing me slowly, but it was as if today it had summoned all the other aspects of my life into destroying my spirit too.

I was furious with Vidal, and with Cristina too for her ridiculous sense of obligation that drove her to do the one thing, be with the one person, that would absolutely tear me apart. I should have seen it coming, but it was still so heartbreakingly painful, worse than all the nausea and numbing headaches I’d had to endure for years it seemed.

Really, though, my pain lie with Vidal. Not only had he taken from me the one unattainable love he knew I always held but he was also the cause for my father’s death. He had killed my father even if he had not been the one to pull the trigger. My father was the scapegoat to his frivolous activities. Guilt clearly ate at him to redeem himself somehow. And yet, he gloried in his own victory by punishing me with Cristina and how my lack of investment in the parish was the reason for the failure of the book I’ve poured my heart and soul into.

And his victory wasn’t even his to have.

It felt like a set up. Maybe Cristina didn’t love me at all. Maybe she truly loved Vidal and it wasn’t just this debt she felt she would forever owe to him. Hadn’t she, knowing how I felt about her, urged me to write Vidal’s book? Didn’t she know it would be such a success that Vidal would partially credit her for it? Was the plan to finally get him to go down on bended knee and ask for her hand in marriage?

I couldn’t imagine her being that deceitful. And when I made love to her after her father died, it had felt real. Short-lived, but real. In those moments, on that night, I had treasured her and every touch was forever burned into my memory. I would never forget it.

I never wanted to see either of them again. It was a betrayal, whether intentional or not. The rising tide of anger, hurt and wounded pride threatened to consume me. The pain in my head only added to it.

If there was no closure though, from her, from Cristina, I would never be able to move out of the dungeon my love for her had created around me. So, I went to Villa Helius, because I knew she would be there, waiting for her betrothed to come back to her. The thought made me angrier but at least Vidal wouldn’t be there. I had a feeling he would remain where he was for quite some time, if he truly had ever cared for me at all.

The staff I knew, that I’d seen many times before, saw me as I came through the doors, not waiting to be asked inside, not knocking either. I tried not to look at them but it was hard to block out the pitying looks they gave from out of the corner of my eyes. Whether it regarded Cristina or my failed novel I didn’t know, but if it was both that was all the more reason to move past them as quickly as possible and find the love who had betrayed me when she hadn’t even been mine.

Surprisingly – or maybe not so – I found her in Vidal’s study, staring out the window from the middle of the room. In other instances when I might have been thinking clearly, I would have found it odd. But I was hurt and broken and masking my fury, so I did not spare more than a second’s thought on the small observation.

I dropped my book on the floor, my signature inside as Vidal had requested. It was more of a mocking insult than anything else, though only my name had been scribbled on the inside cover. I had written it angrily and knew she would see that when she opened the book that only Sempere had deemed valuable enough to sell. Of that I was sure.

The loud sound of the book dropping to the floor startled her. She jumped in her seat and turned to look at me. Her breath caught in her throat.

“David,” she breathed. The surprise and alarm in her face quickly turned to sadness and maybe even a hint of fear. Because she knew that I knew, and she pitied me.

“There is your damn book. Signature and all,” I spat. Her eyes widened. “Your fiancé requested I give it to you as one last mocking gesture. I came around to it, because I have to know if it’s true.”

She swallowed and nodded slowly, tears filling her eyes that I chose to ignore. Because she needed to hurt. She needed to feel the pain I was feeling. I had to see that it was real for her. That it was hurting her to betray me like she was and that it wasn’t intentional like I had feared.

“You and Vidal are…?” I couldn’t finish it, but the lump visible in her throat answered the question for me. “My own mentor, the only father figure I’ve ever really had, who apparently is also the reason my real father is dead. This is the person you choose to marry.”

For the first time she spoke.

“You know I had to, David. I couldn’t say no.”

“Because he owns you? Like some sort of slave?” I spat. I knew the words she’d rehearsed before me, her deepest beliefs. They were my beliefs too, but I had never felt quite as strongly as she did. After all, I had paid my gratitude in full by writing him his damned best seller and suffering the poor reviews of my own work of art.

She stood to her feet. “What greater form of gratitude is there than being his wife? Doing whatever he wishes? Being his true and loyal companion? It is all I could have asked for. By doing this I am free of worrying I have to do anything else. My debt has been paid. Or, it soon will be.”

“Your debt isn’t paid. You’re a prisoner in this, unless of course you truly love him.”

She hesitated and I feared the worst, despite how angry I was. Her honesty almost hurt worse but it did give some relief.

“Not the way I love you.”

I closed my eyes.

“But you know we can never be. Vidal owns us. This is my payment to finally be free.”

I stepped closer to her, closing the distance between us.

“But you aren’t free. And how can you request my name inside my book that has failed to meet the standard of Vidal’s wonderful work of art? Sending Vidal to do your bidding because you can’t face me? You must have known I’d come.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I thought you would make it a point to never see me again. I thought you would hate me, that you could never forgive me.”

I wanted to tell her that I didn’t, that I couldn’t, but my heart told me I’d sooner forget about her than not forgive her, if she truly wanted forgiveness.

I looked away from her to a blank spot on the far side of the room. How many times had I sat here with Vidal, discussing my future and the very essence of life? He had been my best friend, my mentor, my father for the greater part of my life. And tonight he had destroyed everything.

“Vidal did a great thing for us, pulling us out of our poverty. We would not be where we are today without that significant act of charity.”

She swallowed and nodded silently, looking down at the floor and my discarded book.

“But you are your own person, Cristina. If you told Vidal today, now, that you love me and not him—”

“I would regret it forever,” she said, suddenly very passionate.

“Really?” I whispered. “Would marrying me instead of your rescuer be so terrible?”

“David…” she lost any words that could come to her, so I closed the small space still between us and held her face in my hands.

“I have loved you, Cristina, since before I truly understood what love was. Vidal may love you, but it can’t possibly match what I feel. Your paid debt of gratitude to him will not keep you happy forever.”

She closed her eyes.

“Please, Cristina…” I lowered my face and pressed a kiss to her lips. She did not retreat but she did not respond either. “Give me this,” I whispered. “All I want is you.”

“No.” She shook her head. “No, David, I can’t.” Her voice broke. “And you know why.” A tear streamed down her cheek. “I am the one thing you cannot have.”

The stubborn words did not stick with me like they had every time before. Instead I lowered my head again and kissed her. She protested at first, but then she sunk into the kiss and matched my intensity. Soon her hands were in my hair and when I tore my lips away to kiss down her neck, I could feel the tears trickling down her skin.

“This is wrong. I cannot…I can’t do this.” She tried to push at my shoulders but it was a feeble attempt and her pushing hands soon curled around my shoulders as her nails dug into the fabric of my shirt.

I raised my head.

“You do not belong to him,” I said, my eyes hot with lust and love. “Whatever you think you owe him has been paid in full already. Don’t do this too. It will only hurt him more when he realizes over time that you do not love him.”

Her lips parted. “Da—”

“Come with me,” I begged, because leaving her now seemed a worse fate that death in a matter of months. “Don’t leave me to die alone.”

Despite the normalcy my final statement could have been, I knew she sensed the urgency in them and not just because I wanted her to myself.

“David?”

I swallowed.

“David.”

“I will not tell you,” I said, because I’d sworn I wouldn’t tell anyone. “And perhaps that alone should be reason for me to leave you alone forever.”

Her expression furrowed into worry.

“Please tell me,” she requested softly. I could hear the desperation in her feather-like voice. She let her eyes drift to my chest where she lay her hand over my heart. “It is not only Vidal I worry about.” She lifted her eyes to mine and I knew then I would tell her.

“I have only months to live.” Her eyes widened and her hand dropped from my chest so that we were no longer touching at all. “I do not know how, but there is a growth on my brain that is untreatable. I went to a doctor five months ago and he told me.”

She nearly collapsed onto the chair on which she’d been sitting when I first walked into the room.

“Does…does Vidal—”

“No,” I said instantly. “And I don’t want him to. I’ve told no one. This last year of my life I wanted to use to do something worthy of you, to write a book I could be proud to show you. One that you would not look disdainfully at for the small profit it gave me and where my heart was not present.”

“David,” she choked, sobs suddenly taking her over. I knelt beside her instantly and tried to hold her but within moments she pushed me away and stood to her feet, walking towards the window, seeking fresh air.

“How can you do this to me?” she demanded finally. “How can you make me choose between the two of you?” I said nothing, though guilt now started to settle in me. I had not meant to trap her like this. “I do not know which I would regret more, leaving you alone to die a miserable death or remain true to Vidal because of what he has done for me, for both of us. I could throw myself out this window right now just to be relieved of all the pain you have just caused me.”

The anger inside me dissipated, as it always did when I saw her in pain.

I came to her.

“Forgive me,” I said. She was shaking but I dared not touch her again. “I have been suffering so long on my own, I forgot how it looked to watch you experience the same thing. I do not wish to compromise you in this way. Not like this.”

She kept her face turned away and so I retreated, picked up my book, set it on the table and took my leave.

……………

 When I returned late that evening, grateful for the bed I was soon to collapse on, there was a knock on the door only moments after I’d stepped inside. I did not dare to hope she would be coming here at this hour. Hope was a foolish thing for me to dwell on. It did not serve me well, especially today.

But I returned to the entryway and opened the large wooden door. And there she stood, as beautiful as before and with drying tears still staining her cheeks.

I stood there in silence, waiting. Finally she crossed the threshold and lifted her face to mine, pulling me into a kiss that I savored for as long as it would last.

“Tell me,” I whispered when her lips left mine.

“It’s not pity,” she told me. “It’s not pity that I come to you now. I do not choose you because of your …” she swallowed, “your short time left. I choose you because I love you.”

My lips parted. I knew it was not all truth. The revelation of my illness had changed her mind.

“I left Vidal. I told him my heart was with you.”

“Did you tell him—”

She shook her head. “I leave that for you.”

I did not know what to say.

“David…” She stroked the side of my face tenderly. “Tell me you still love me.”

My gaze became fixated on hers. “I still love you,” I said, almost robotically, but I meant every word.

“Tell me you will have me…if…if only for a short while.”

“I will have you forever,” I said, the emotion back in my voice as I claimed her lips once more and then pulled her inside.

Hours later when we lay spent and twisted together on my bed I heard her whisper softly against my skin.

“We will find a way to save you,” she said. I knew then that she loved me, and that was why she came. Pain arced through me then, almost unbearably so, because when we lost each other it would break her and even the comfort Vidal might give her wouldn’t heal her broken heart.

So I nodded numbly against her. There had to be a way. Our love couldn’t end like this.

I closed my eyes and went to sleep, praying she would not vanish like she had done so many times before.

*Also available on AO3 and FFnet.

#WIP week #david x cristina #backtothestart02 fanfiction #the angel's game #at the crumbling castle gates #chapter 1 #the shadow of the wind #the cemetery of forgotten books

[waywardranchanimalsanctuary-blog]

What do you do when the system fails?

There are a few things that keep rescuers up at night. At the top of my personal list of worries is the current status of our adopted animals. Are the adopters providing the necessary medical and behavior care? Have the animals adjusted well to their new home? Are they loved? Does the family ever think about returning the animal to us? Over the past 2 1/2 years of running Wayward Ranch and the years I worked for other shelters in the past, there are a handful of animals I worry about in their homes from time to time. Maybe the dog was difficult in the shelter environment, and I worry they may misbehave in their new home. Perhaps the adopters haven’t been in touch with us or given us many details about the animal since adoption, and I worry about whether they are hiding something. I could rattle off a list of 10 animals right now that cross my mind, but if you had asked me three weeks ago, Hercules never would have been on that list. 

Above: Hercules at four months old the day he was rescued

When I first saw Hercules two years ago, he was just a four month old puppy listed on Craigslist. His family had bought him from a friend that had a litter of Dogo Argentino/Pit Bull mix puppies. They brought him home at just three weeks old, way too young for him to be separated from his mom and litter mates. After hiding him in their apartment for three months, their landlord caught them and they were forced to give him away. Instead of allowing this under-socialized, un-neutered, and un-vaccinated bully breed puppy to end up with a potentially devastating fate, as we have seen many times for dogs given away online, we stepped in to rescue him. 

Hercules became part of our Early Intervention Program. The goal of this program is to find bully breed puppies that are between 1 week - 6 months old and in high-risk situations (posted online for free or for sale at a low price in areas known for dog fighting), and fully vet and socialize them prior to adoption. We want to create positive bully breed ambassadors who grow up living with other dogs, cats, and/or kids so they can show what wonderful dogs well-socialized bully breeds can be. Hercules was fully vetted, microchipped, neutered and vaccinated and then brought to his foster home where he lived with cats and a young child. He was also socialized with other dogs at the dog park. We were especially glad to have found him because he had spent some of the most important months of his social development hidden away in an apartment without any other animals or people other than his owners. He was anxious and timid at first, in a way that could have developed into fear aggression as he grew older, but as he met more animals and people his confidence grew and he became a very social and sweet dog, a true success story of our Early Intervention Program. 

One month after Hercules arrived, we received a stellar application for him. An upstate NY firefighter who owned a home with a big, fully fenced in yard. He had owned dogs in the past, had a great vet reference, and had multiple wonderful personal references. We did what we call a “virtual home visit” since he was five hours from us, and were able to see the inside and outside of his home. He had already budgeted financially for a new dog and had a plan for continuing the training and socialization we had begun. He assured us that his fellow firefighters all had dogs available for play dates and it was likely Hercules could even come to work with him on some days. After emailing back and forth and multiple phone conversations, we set up a day and time to meet the adopter halfway between his home and our rescue. He spent over an hour there with us, learning about Hercules’ needs and walking him with us. He was kind, gentle and well spoken and Hercules bonded to him instantly. The adoption became officially and we wished Herc well as he headed to his forever home…or so we thought. 

Above: A photo update of Hercules in his home, one year post adoption

Over the past two years, we have heard from the adopter multiple times. He assured us Herc was a great dog, doing wonderfully with his training and socialization. He sent us photos of Hercules playing, sleeping, cuddling, and getting a bath; all signs of a happy and well-adjusted dog. We try to check in with our adopters at one week, three months, six months, and one year post adoption. After the one year mark we simply check in yearly to make sure all is well and offer advice or help any way we can. Some adopters are harder to reach than others and when we don’t immediately get a response, I always tend to worry that something may be wrong. Of course, once we are able to connect with adopters, my concerns disappear when we hear how well the animals are doing in their new homes. 

You can imagine my shock when I received a call two weeks ago from an upstate NY dog control that they had a dog with them that was microchipped to our rescue. This dog had not only come in as a stray, he had been driven to a local park after dark, pushed out of the car, screamed at to get away and then abandoned as he watched the car he came in drive away. Luckily a good samaritan witnessed this occur, and immediately brought the dog to animal control or else he likely would have frozen to death in the snow. My heart stopped when the ACO informed me that the dog’s name was Hercules. 

I quickly scrambled to find the adoption application from two years ago and gave the officer the phone number, address and name of the adopter. He and I both believed the dog must have been stolen, but regardless I told the ACO our adoption contract gives us the right to terminate the adoption at any time, and I wanted to reclaim ownership of the dog. Even though I was sure the adopter could never have done this, I still did not want one of our animals living in an area where he had been stolen. About an hour later, I received another call from the animal control officer. Not only had he been able to contact the adopter, the adopter had confirmed he was actually the one to dump Hercules in the park, and he offered no explanation or defense of his actions. I could not believe what I was hearing. We ALWAYS stand by our animals and will take back any animal that adopters need to return; there was no reason for this adopter to dump Hercules and nearly kill him in the cold. 

Above: Hercules, looking for a forever home once again.

Hercules is now back with our rescue, and other than some skin irritation caused by a poor diet, he is in pretty good shape. The man who abandoned him is being investigated and we are cooperating with authorities, hopeful that he will be charged and punished for what he has done. Our goal now is to find a new home for Herc where he will actually be cared for as deserved. The first few days after this unfortunate incident occurred I spent hours agonizing over what we needed to change, to do better. If I had done an in-person home visit would I still have approved the adopter? Did I check in enough post adoption? Should we change our adoption process or policies? 

I have concluded that our system, policies and process work, and that this unfortunate situation is just a consequence of our need to trust people at their word to care for our animals. We can and do run background checks, perform reference and home checks, require multiple visits (depending on the animal) and more, but at the end of the day we simply have to trust that our adopters will love and provide for their adopted pet. That will always be a terrifying thought for me as I have seen so much abuse and neglect working in rescue, and it is difficult to trust strangers. However, we cannot keep them all and the ones we adopt out allow us to bring in new animals who need our help. Our system only works because of our adopters and their ability to provide homes to animals in need. The man who adopted Hercules clearly did love and care for him at one point, and it seems that some emergency life event or mental breakdown may be the cause of his choice to abandon Hercules. We can think of no other explanation why someone who do this to a great dog they had owned for over two years, but we will never know for sure. We have to focus on the fact that we have great relationships with our other adopters, and the other animals we have adopted out have safe lives where there are loved. There are a few animals that still need us to help provide training, boarding or advice, but their owners love them and are committed to them for life. Many of these adopters, seeing Hercules’ story on social media, reached out to us to assure us we should never be concerned about the animal they adopted, that they truly are their forever home, and for that we will always be grateful.

Written by: Eleni Calomiris

Executive Director and one of the Founding Board Members of 

Wayward Ranch Animal Sanctuary

P.S. If you have adopted from Wayward Ranch and want to share new photos of your alumni enjoying life, check out the new Alumni group on our Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/groups/2328537984100153/?ref=pages_groups_card&source_id=126222627840092

Below are some photos of our alumni we have recently received updates on:

[swtorramblings]

Eternal Throne Part 4: Still A Threat

A couple of extra chapters this week, to pay debt for several recent negative posts.

The battle for the mind of the former Empress Vaylin continues, as the Sith Emperor continues his attempts to destroy his own daughter and take her power and her body from her.

1395 words.

Beginning chapter: The Final Chain

Previous chapter: The Eternal Throne Part 3: A New Era

Next chapter: Dreams and Tears

Vaylin looked up at her sire, sitting on her mental image of the Eternal Throne.

“So, Daughter, you did survive.”

“More than that, ‘Father’. I have reclaimed my power.”

He stood. “I know. It will not be enough.”

He raised his hand, and the air was filled with lightning. She ran and leaped over the rampaging tempest and screamed down at him. It didn’t even muss his hair.

“You see? There is no hope. Let me end this.”

She snorted. “Hope? You think I have hope?” Lightning struck at him, but, again, there was no effect. “That was the second thing you took from me. After my freedom. Before my mind.”

This made no sense. Even if she hadn’t yet breached his protection, he should be reacting. He should not be this strong. Not even him. How?

Too late, she realized what was happening. Lightning struck her, playing across her back. She fell to her knees. He had not been on the Throne. Space meant little here. He had tricked her again. She rose, shakily, to her feet.

He chuckled, infuriatingly. “Took your hope? I did no such thing. You still have it. It makes it easier to hurt you, Daughter. Hope that you can prevail. Hope that your power is in any way a match for my own. Hope that you are free.”

The rage left her face. She looked afraid. “What?”

“I am here in your mind, and you cannot resist my power. Even power you thought you had overcome.”

“No, please, don't, ” she begged.

“Kneel, Daughter, kneel before the Dragon of Zakuul!”

She staggered, and was driven back to her knees. She cried out in pain, in frustration, but was helpless. The Emperor, her father, stepped up to her.

“You see? Nothing you have done matters. You will be destroyed, and I shall take your place.”

It was then that he noticed she was laughing. “Oh, Father, you really don’t know me at all.”

“What?”

A powerful blast of Force lightning caught him in the chest.. He staggered. “That won’t work. I went into my mind to find the tools to beat you.” She blasted him a second time. Smoke poured from his robes. “Did you really think I hadn’t removed the dregs of your control?” She stood, the image of a world she had never seen in her mind, the image that had freed her. “Fool.” She struck him again, and he flew back. She moved to finish him.

He looked back at her. He repeated what he had said earlier. It was his turn to smile. “My clever daughter.”

“Do not call me that!” She began to unleash her built up power, but he gestured, and suddenly the terrain was plunged into darkness. Before she could adjust to this, to see through this trick of the mind, the ground beneath her feet was gone, and she began to fall.

A hand clasped her wrist in the dark, catching her before she fell too far, and she grasped her rescuer’s wrist in return. Once she was safe, a familiar object was placed in her hand. A voice said in the darkness, “You almost have him. Fight well, Sister. Free yourself.”

“Arcann? How are you here?”

“No, not Arcann.”

She activated the lightsaber, and the beam drove the darkness back enough to see his face. “Thexan?”

He was only there for a moment, smiling at her, and then he was gone.

She looked down at the weapon. Not the one her father gave her when he released her from that place, but her brother’s. She clasped it more firmly.

She heard his voice, out in the darkness. “Sentiment, child? For the echo of your dead brother? You truly are weak. How did I think you might some day be worthy?”

She exerted her will. This was her mind, and it would be as she wished. Her father would not have control, here. The light returned.

She looked up at him.“Not sentiment, ‘Father’. Family.”

“Family is useless. You of all people should know that.”

She looked at the weapon in her hand. “Perhaps, sometimes. I do still hate them both, the ones you let live. Perhaps I always will. But right now? They have finally given me what I need.”

He sounded bored, but he indulged her. “And what is that?”

She turned to face him. “Rage. Rage for them all, not just myself. I have not changed. I refuse to be what they want me to be, even Thexan. But now, I will no longer be what you want me to be, either. I do not know what I will become, but I know this: You will never have my mind.”

“You do not have the power to stop me. I have already shown that.”

“I almost did it before, out in the world, when I only had my hatred. I almost did it here, before your tricks. But it was really your hate, you gave it to me, along with fear, and pain. It gave me power, but it let you control me, every bit as much as the other chains you placed on me. Now, I have claimed that rage and more for myself, and I have Thexan’s gift as well.”

“A lightsaber? Do you really think that will help you against me?”

She smiled. She stood straight and walked forward. Her sire was lying, as he always did. “This is a battle of our minds, ‘Father’. Of our wills. Thexan did not give me his lightsaber. He gave me his clarity. His ability to survive what you did to him. To all of us.”

Valkorian, the Eternal Emperor, the master of the Sith, the devourer of Ziost, flinched in the light of that weapon. He backed away as she stalked toward him.

“I thought so. It was the only gift you never tarnished. You feared Thexan’s clarity, but could not take it, so he died.”

Lightning streamed from her  hand. He shielded himself from it, but it pushed him back a step.

“You feared Arcann’s strength, and he was never so strong as with our brother, so you broke their bond.”

She lifted the weapon over her head, bringing it down swiftly, throwing a concussive blast at him, leaving a line of blasted soil behind it. Again, he was pushed back, though unharmed.

“You feared Mother’s devotion, what we would become with her in our lives, and what she would become with us in hers, so you drove her away.”

She lifted an open hand, closed it into a fist. The dirt and rock from that shallow trench leaped into the air, swirling about him with gale force. His barriers begin to buckle.

“And, you feared my power, and how quickly I was mastering it, so you had my power contained and crippled my mind.”

He finally retaliated, blasting his daughter with a massive wave of Force lightning. She simply walked through it, and grinned. Her voice came from behind him.

“You broke us, out of fear. You took what we were, and what we could have been, from us!”

Before he could turn, she had slashed him with the saber. His defenses shattered. He felt pain for the first time since Arcann had struck him, and this was worse, because this was his true self.

“You destroyed me! You destroyed us! Your own family!”

As she shouted, he felt her exertion, but there was no further attack. Then, he saw the growing shadow at his feet.

“Out of fear! You are pathetic, ‘Father’!”

And the Eternal Throne, the image of it, came crashing down, shattering on impact, burying the Emperor.

“You are not worthy of the Throne any more than I am.”

The remains of the Throne exploded outward, and Vaylin was forced to leap away. The Emperor, enraged, demanded,  “How are you any different, then, Daughter? You were willing to kill your family, for their imagined slights. How are we not the same?”

That stopped her for a moment, but then she smiled, slowly. “Very well, ‘Father’. Perhaps we are the same.” She paused, and raised Thexan’s lightsaber. Hers, now. The smile disappeared. “If we are, you should be very, very afraid.”

He hesitated, but the arrogance quickly returned. “I do not fear you. A god has no more need of fear than family.”

She laughed at that. “If you were a god, that might be true. Just as, if I were Thexan, I might be merciful.”

Then she lunged, lightning crackling from the blade.

That night, while she did not actually wake, the former Empress of Zakuul smiled, slightly, and her body relaxed. Someone standing very close, with very good ears, might have heard her say, “You always underestimated me.”

Finally, after many weeks, Vaylin slept well.

#Vaylin #Valkorian #knowing why you hate does not end the hate #ishallsavemyself

[arielsojourner]

Two posts in one day. Part 9 of Luke and Vader save the galaxy by time traveling back to the Clone Wars. 

-It turns out there are three troopers from the 212th that are Force sensitive- Waxer, Shocks, and one of the bridge officers, Ollie. When Ahsoka is in charge of training she decides to take a page out of Luke’s training regime and has them jump running around the ship or whatever planet they are on while she randomly tries to attack them. When it is Anakin’s turn, he has Ahsoka loan out her sabers and sometimes manages to steal Obi-Wan’s and takes them through basic stances and techniques best for the combat clones face every day. When it is Obi-Wan’s turn, he generally finds a way to avoid the duty, passing it on to Ahsoka, but when Anakin starts stealing his lightsaber, Obi-Wan is forced to join the training if he wants his saber back.

Obi-Wan decides that the best thing he can do in training is to impart Jedi philosophy to the clones. They listen quietly while he takes them through the Code and doctrine and the rules and principles of being a Jedi. They listen too quietly. He looks over his shoulder and catches out of the corner of his eye Anakin’s look of utter over dramatized boredom while Ahsoka desperately tries not to laugh at her Master’s face. “Do you mind?” He snaps at them.

“Yes, yes I do!” Anakin retorts. “This is sparring time. We may see combat any day now. We need to focus on what is important.”

“This is important, Anakin. Any being who wishes to be part of the Order must learn and abide by the rules.”

“Who says they are going to be part of the Order?” Ahsoka asks quietly cutting off the brewing argument sharply. Both men turn to regard her in surprise.

“They are training to be Jedi at your insistence, Padawan,” he reminds her severely. “Training to be Jedi, yes. But they are not part of the Order.  All they need to know is this: a Jedi’s highest priority is to protect and defend the innocent and the most vulnerable from suffering and death under all circumstances, war or peace, regardless of what any person or group in authority may say. That’s what Luke and Vader said,” she added hurriedly at Obi-Wan’s stunned look.

Anakin looks at her with incredulous pride. His Padawan has grown into his kind of Jedi. He is really looking forward to meeting this Luke and maybe even the Sith, Vader. He might have to amend his “I kill Sith” rule just so he can talk to the guy.  “Well said, Padawan.” He turns to the clones who are listening much more intently. “Remember that. That is what is really important.”

-Resettling the clone cadets rescued from Kamino who had not formally entered the GAR and those clone troopers who because of illness or injury were not returning to active combat duty, was a logistical nightmare. Bail and Padme were combing through dozens of separate files trying to figure out how to divide up the different maturity groups (not age groups, when the oldest clone still alive was barely 12 years old). Then there was the question of the clones waiting to be born. They were really struggling when Dorme came in with a new report, this one from the clone representative. Bail hadn’t known the clones had a representative. The report however made it very clear that not only was there a clone representative, he knew what he was doing, and had a team of logistical planning geniuses helping him. The representative (identified as 99) outlined division of the cadets and troopers based not on maturity levels, education levels, or nuclear family groups that were common in the foster system of many planets,  but based on battalion and squad groups. Older clones and troopers were grouped with less physically mature cadets. Each active member of the GAR was assigned a corresponding group based on their military record and their own squads and training history.  Clone brother partners and five clone squads formed the basis of the “clone units” 99 proposed. He had laid it all out with military precision and showed how resettlement on three, four, or even five worlds could be handled with frequent communication and travel between the different systems. It was the most comprehensive humanitarian resettlement plan Bail had ever seen and he had been part of the Senate subcommittee on refugee resettlement for years.

“This is amazing,” Bail finally said.

“As General Skywalker is fond of saying, there has never been a more well trained and superb army in the history of the galaxy than the clone army. These men are truly remarkable,” Padme commented.

Bail thought for a moment. “Do you think some of them are looking for jobs?”

-Anakin nearly collapses in relief when the twins are delivered and Kix declares that Padme is healthy and well, and not in danger of dying as he had foreseen. He presses his forehead to hers and together they speak the names they have chosen. Ley-ah, or Leia in Basic, for his daughter, named for the mighty desert dragon. And Lukka, or Luke in Basic, for his son, named for freedom and the first light of the suns. They are alive and well and so, so tiny in their arms.

He finally manages to draw his attention away from his wife and his children and realizes that the battle is over. Beyond the bedroom he sees the familiar helmet of Captain Rex checking on Obi-Wan who is being fussed over by the med droid. His Captain looks up  but he hesitates to intrude. It is Padme who calls him over and introduces him to the twins.  Rex shucks off his helmet and looks at them, wondering at how tiny they are and how they don’t Name themselves as clones do, their parents name them. He offers his congratulations. Anakin and Padme offer their thanks and Padme says she hopes she can introduce the twins to all of the clone brothers she knows. Anakin asks for a report, but Captain Rex waves him off tell him it is all taken care of and that they will continue to guard them until the threat can be tracked down and neutralized. Padme wants to thank their rescuers, thank Luke and his companions and the other clones personally. She asks if they want to see the babies. Rex hesitates and then says he will pass on the invitation and quickly leaves the room.

Rex hurries out of the apartments to where Luke and Vader have set up their small post in the atrium outside the living quarters. Both men turn to him as he approaches and Vader snaps out a demand for a report.

“General Skywalker and Senator Amidala are in good health as are the babies.”

“Babies?” Luke goes pale. Vader makes an incomprehensible noise.

The Captain looks uncertainly from one to another. “Yes sir, Leia and Luke.”

Vader staggers and drops to his knees. “Sir? Sir! ” Rex asks in alarm. “Shall I fetch a medic?”

Luke shakes his head violently, leaning over his father. “No, no Captain, it’s fine. Just the battle, please, a moment.”

“Of course, sir,” Rex says withdrawing.

Luke places his hands on his father’s shoulders and tries to catch his breath. Leia. Leia! A sister. A twin sister and he never knew! He had a sister all this time, a twin. But not really. Not anymore. Leia was lost to him. Only his other self, his little brother as the clones would recognize him, would know the joy of having a sister.

Vader shakes under Luke’s hands. Not one child, but two! He had always thought he would have a daughter. Padme was convinced she would bear a son. They had both been right. Two children. And Leia, Princess of Alderaan, under his nose the entire time! So like her mother, so like him. And he had hunted her, tortured her, and watched as her world was destroyed. And she was brave and fierce and a rebel and a Hutt slayer. And he would never know her now, not the way he knew Luke. She was lost to him, stolen.

“Father,” Luke says lowly. “Father, they are safe and alive and we must make sure they stay that way. We must plan. There is little time.”

Vader shakes himself. What is one more betrayal? One more reason to feel a monster? One more reasons to hate Obi-Wan and Palpatine and Bail Organa and Yoda? What is one more Force forsaken lie in his life? In Luke’s life? There is no time left. He must stand. He must fight.

He rises, Luke’s hands slipping away. He looks down at his son’s determined features, sees grief and joy mingled there. They are united in a common purpose. There are no lies or betrayals here. He can trust his son. The doors to the apartment open and Rex, Fives, Anakin and Obi-Wan come to join them in the atrium, Hardcase, Chatterbox, Kix and the rest of the troopers staying to guard Padme and the babies. Vader’s fists clench. He cannot face Obi-Wan now without doing violence.  

“Go,” Luke tells him, understanding completely. “I will let you know when we are ready to move.”

-Vader finds himself in his wife’s apartments. He is not sure how he manages to get there when he has no intention of meeting Padme ever, but he finds himself checking on the troops on guard  and then somehow slipping into the darkened room where the babies (two of them! Two!) are sleeping. Padme is with the med droid cleaning up and the babies are left sleeping with Artoo powered down next to their crib. He silences his respirator, turning it off so he doesn’t disturb their rest. He will gladly suffer a few moments of painful breathing for his children.

He leans over carefully to catch a glimpse of them, washed and wrapped in blankets. He stretches out with the Force and he feels them, two bright lights, two suns illuminating the galaxy. He finds he cannot help himself. He carefully brushes one finger over the back of Luke’s clenched fist and then over Leia’s. She squirms and grips his finger in response, not letting go. The sensors in his prosthetic have improved through Luke’s relentless tinkering. He imagines he can actually feel the pressure of her tiny hand. He senses movement outside the room and reluctantly pulls away, drawing another blanket over both tiny children. He turns to leave as silently as he entered and stops.

Padme stands in the doorway to the master fresher watching him with a puzzled cautious expression on her face.

Vader is frozen in place. He cannot move. She is here. She has seen him! She opens her mouth to speak and he knows he cannot bear to hear her voice. He reaches for the Force and finds the strength to swiftly and silently escape from her presence before she can say a word.

-Even with the Sith at long last unmasked and defeated, to this day Yoda does not approve of the reconstruction forces that are the newly reformed GAR, or the training of the clones in the Jedi arts, or members of the Order working more and more with the GAR, breaking the Code left and right. The Code has been in place longer than he has been alive, but that does not seem to matter. The diminished Order continues but the galaxy has changed and now Force users of all types (Sith! Dark Side users! Grey Jedi! Bendu! Guardians from Jedha!) work with peacekeeping clone forces throughout the galaxy, filling the roles that were once Order roles but also taking action that the Order has never taken– policing the Galaxy and working directly with the Judiciary, handling more refugee and humanitarian relief efforts than the Senate in its heyday, and stopping the slave trade and fighting toe to toe against the Hutts. Yoda does not approve.

On the several occasions he has had a chance to meet with Luke, Son of Vader, Yoda makes his position and feelings very clear. Luke’s reaction though is just as puzzling as the fact that Luke once traveled light years to heal Yoda. Yoda calls him reckless, arrogant, heretical, and dangerous. Luke doesn’t get upset but listens to the lecture with all attentiveness. Yoda questions his parentage, his father, his attachments, his association with the Dark side of the Force, the fact that he basically commands the loyalty of an army of clones, and his training methods. Luke still doesn’t get upset and won’t even let his students defend him to the Grand Master though they would very much like to (“He has made peace. He has stopped the war. He has freed the Republic’s slaves,” Fives counters. “He is ten times the Jedi you will ever be!” Hardcase yells).

“To consider you for training, desperate he had to be, your master,” Yoda tells Luke during one such meeting where reconstruction forces and the Order work together, which has even Master Windu taken aback. “Very desperate, Master Yoda,” Luke agrees with a small, sad smile.

It is not until Yoda has cause to meet Anakin and Padme’s young children several years later and see with his own eyes young Luke Skywalker that the Grand Master of the Order realizes his mistake. The answer was there in the Force from the beginning. Only a student, a Padawan could have healed Yoda. 

After meeting young Luke Skywalker, Yoda meditates for some time and then, leaving his lightsaber behind, takes a ship to Serrano. When he returns to the Jedi Temple, he makes his way slowly to the archival records where he updates his own record with one more entry, one more student’s name that he had the privilege of teaching.

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