atop wars

BB-8 The Matchmaker

Anon asked: hi, i love your work, youre such a great writer! id actually like to make a request where bb-8 finds out poe likes you and you like him, leading the droid to enlist every single droid on base to play matchmaker, including c-3po and r2-d2? thanks for considering it!

Author: Zoe

(A/N: Yasss, I love my spherical little droid baby!)

Plot Summary: BB-8, one of the few people, or well, droids that Poe confides in. The spherical droid rolls around giddily, until Poe makes BB-8 promise to not tell anyone. Especially you. However, when the droid overhears you, General Organa’s right-hand, about your attraction to the droid’s master. BB-8 decides to enlist C-3PO, R2-D2, as well as every cleaning, medical, and war droid to bring the two of you together.

Originally posted by emanuelsantos2

“Well, that was nice. Haven’t had a good chat in a while.” You smiled as Poe walked alongside you to your room, BB-8 rolling in between the both of you.

“Yeah, now that the Starkiller Base is destroyed, we have at least some level of peace.” Poe sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he stopped in front of your room.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” You turned around, facing him with your tablet at your hip.

“Of course! When have I ever let you down?”

“How about when I told you not to get captured on Jakku?”

“Okay, besides that. And I’m still alive, right?” Poe gestured wildly to himself, BB-8 rolling around his feet.

You laughed, walking into your room. “Goodnight, Mr. Dameron.” And with a smile and a wave, the door was closed, leaving Poe to walk back to his own room.

BB-8 whirred at him, asking what was wrong.

“I’ll tell you later, buddy.”

As soon as Poe was inside his own room, BB-8 immediately began to beep excitedly, asking Poe why he was acting so sullen.

“Well, how do you feel about Y/N?”

The droid answered, rather keen on you. It considered you as a part of it’s surrogate family.

“So, I may or may not have… Romantic feelings for her.”

BB-8 squealed happily, circling around Poe once again before rolling towards the door.

“Wait, no!” Poe dived and caught the droid in his arms, keeping it from exiting the room.

“BB-8, you can’t tell her! I don’t even know if she even has the same feelings!”

BB-8 stopped and made a questioning beep.

“Just, wait, okay? I just want to be safe and make sure she’s interested or not.”

His droid gave him a reassuring head-tap with its own, before rolling off to its charging station and powering down.

Poe, on the other hand, lied awake in bed, thinking about you, sighing.

He turned over in his bed, trying to get a good night’s sleep.

Keep reading

I Might...

I think I might write a meta on the zooming up/focusing on certain aspects of holding/romantic settings in general despite relation and situation for Jon x Sansa. It would be pretty long- but I just had my cousin over, a major in  cinematography and film, and the first thing he said to me once we started talking GoT was “What I don’t understand is all the romantic shots they got going on for Jon and Sansa. It doesn’t make any sense if they plan for him to get with D*ny?” It made me freeze and I asked him why he thought it came off that way.

The man stares me dead in the eyes and goes “Why the hell would they zoom up on the hand holding? Or his longs stares? I don’t get it. They’re supposed to be brother and sister, but then this shit turns up and confuses the hell out of me.” In fact, it might just be him writing the meta. Because he knows this stuff, I don’t.

He did mention knowing that even if the situation is dire, he explained to me that after the war (aka, atop the battlements) he felt a familial feeling from Sansa, something ordinary and loving. From Jon? Not so brotherly, not with how he holds her. He claimed that immediately holding her hand after she grabs it could mean his need for affection, due to his death. Or it could be a lady Macbeth move, however added that the zooming in was unneeded. Emphasis could have been given by simply agreeing with Sansa, or showing a bit of the hand holding, or implying a such. They didn’t need to zoom in on it, let alone show it from different angles. Then there is the cloak the Sansa made for him. At first he saw no issue, and then he watched it again and noticed how it paralleled Brienne and Tormund in a sense (With how close the scenes are).

Not only that, but they didn’t need to go as far as to show her giving the cloak, nor did he need to act a fool when complimenting her dress. Brother’s don’t stutter, they usually shrug it off- of course he knows this could be simple build up to a familial relationship, but Jon looked her up and down, became bashful, stuttered, and responded. I claimed that it could have just been that, platonic, considering Sansa gave him the same one ‘their’ father wore, and it did look like a bonding situation.

He gave me this look, and said they still didn’t need to show it that way. They could have had him simply accept, look happy that Sansa thought of him, or show him with it on later on and somehow mention it. It would have done just fine. He also rebuked that the way he stared at her constantly wasn’t only of concern, it was infatuation, and I guess with how it was shot was odd too, but I’ll let him get into that. Anywho, the way he would constantly stare at Ygritte is how he gawks as Sansa. He fights with her the way he did with Ygritte, if not a bit worse, and the tent scene furthers his thoughts on the whole romance.

Because it’s romance 101 (apparently? I don’t know), you want a loving yet fitful relationship an audience can get behind, you create large fights and large exits for breathing, and of course sexual tension. He said those were what caught his attention, I suggested the other stuff could be sibling bonding. But this? Nope, apparently not, I guess. We see it in ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and ‘Outlander’, the two I can think of right now. But both contain great romance, all signified by a large fight and a gasp for breath, a long stare- dealing with a large situation of stress that compromises the characters and the plot. Again, he found this extremely unusual with the spoilers claiming he will end up with a certain Dragon Queen. Actually said he thought it was a bit of a waste. He thinks it could be a red herring, but a horrible one, because it’s horrible film strategy to show one fake romance for an entire season and claim it false later.

He also noticed when he kissed her, it lasted longer than most Stark forehead kisses. Since those are opted for in Stark affection, and we’ve seen Jon do it before- but not with the lingering touch. And he looked at her the way he had with Ygritte, when she had stripped and kissed him- when she followed him about- literally every look her offers Sansa looks a lot like those he gave to Ygritte. It confuses the hell out of him. (He has no clue I ship it). Again, he’s really confused, because it can go both ways, yet he found it leans more towards the romantic side. With how it all leads and takes form.

I just thought it was interesting to know he thought it was weird, extremely so, especially since the directors and cast refuse to talk about the implications it held.

And I think, at this point, we all do. (Kidding…Maybe)

Originally posted by just-another-stolenrelic

(I suggested he read some meta’s and more information rather than just what he saw, I think we might have a new shipper on our hands).

(Also up for discussion, I need a distraction so I can properly procrastinate).

(Update, the ending scene where she sits beside him as Queen is really weird to him too- could be romantic- he’s getting super frustrated. He doesn’t know what to make of it anymore)

(Important Edit: I asked him what made him think this in the first place, if it didn’t initially worry him, only to grab his attention later on- and then to start looking into it- He said his professor used the two in class as an example not only for multiple tropes (Which I will put into the meta), but for sneaking in a comfortable, well placed romantic suggestion so the general audience gets comfortable…GUYS)

95% coverage was seriously cool, and more than enough to affect the quality of the light, but sadly not enough to produce proper twilight where you could see stars or get a decent photo of the sun (at least not with shitty phone cameras) that looked like anything other than ‘stop trying to take photos of the fuckening sun you dumb ape’. The dogs were kinda antsy, chasing each other all over the yard and doing the occasional nervous-bark. 

All in all really cool. Glad I got to see it. Now to go sacrifice a bunch of war captives atop a step pyramid to ensure Huitzilopochtli’s return.

NSFW headcanons

(because even though I headcanon Ani as Hella Ace 80% of the time, that 20% left over is full of sin)

Anakin has an oral fixation like whoa and his favorite act ever is going down on Padmé. He spent a really long time learning how to eat her out and how to suck her clit just right for her to twist and whine his name with the most beautiful voice. He’s really proud of the fact that he can get her to come with his mouth alone. 

Padmé came into their marriage more experienced than he did but they were both virgins on their wedding night. They thought it would be a lot more awkward then it actually was and though they fumbled a lot, it was really fun and a great first time. They laughed with each other and traced each others scars and pressed kisses everywhere they could reach. Once they got more practice with each other they realized their first time was horrible - shock, awe! - but they both have really fond memories of it nonetheless. 

Padmé has a marking kink that makes keeping their relationship a secret really hard, no pun intended. She sucks and bites along Anakin’s collarbones, his chest, and his hipbones. He comes away from their bed littered in love bites and wishes, more than anything, that she could leave them on his neck. When he’s on the front lines, her marks buried under his robes, he presses his fingers against them and thinks of her. Anakin whimpers when she bites just under his jawline and outright begs when she sucks marks onto his inner thighs. 

Anakin has totally inappropriate fantasies of making love in Padmé’s offices, with her aides just outside, and her biting down on his shoulders to keep from shouting. (And he always refers to what they do as “making love” mentally, even when it’s filthy, rough, and/or against a wall. Or on the floor. Or the kitchen table. It’s a really important distinction for him because he never so much as touches her without a supernova of love under his skin for her.) Sometimes he fantasizes about eating her out as she sits at her desk and reads over various reports and such. That fantasy is usually his favorite because he can imagine himself on his knees before her, with her hand in his hair, and one of her legs flung over his shoulder so he’s trapped there under her desk. In a fantasy, it doesn’t freak him out like it does in reality. 

(The less said about them finding out that holding his head down by his hair triggers a panic attack the better. It wasn’t fun and they were both hyperventilating by the end of it.)

Padmé really, really likes riding Anakin. She loves the dazed, awed look he gives her every time, the way he lets her control the pace and force of their coupling, loves that he lets his hands roam over her body, and that she can watch him come unraveled under her. She can trail her eyes over his body and see all the marks she left on him, all the places where she’s bitten who he belongs to, and he always moans her name so beautifully. Sometimes he’ll sit up to press their foreheads together, panting into her mouth, and whisper how much he loves her. 

They’ve broken two bed frames, a table, and few pieces of hanging artwork in their marriage. And a couch, but they both insist that was hardly their fault - that couch was a cheap piece of shit to begin with. It was hardly their fault that it chose to brake just as they were atop it. 

Simultaneous Action, Writing 1vX combat

“But no, not Velociraptor. You stare at him, and he just stares right back. And that’s when the attack comes. Not from the front, but from the side, from the other two raptors you didn’t even know were there. Because Velociraptor’s a pack hunter, you see, he uses coordinated attack patterns and he is out in force today.” – Doctor Alan Grant, Jurassic Park

You may think that using a quote from Jurassic Park about raptors to discuss writing when fighting groups of individuals is strange. However, for all the talk of lone wolves, humans are pack animals. They are very capable of working together, even those who have never been trained, to overwhelm through even haphazardly coordinated action. The better the group of opponents are, the more practice they have at working together, then the more dangerous they will be.

There isn’t a “level limit” like in video games in real combat, and there really isn’t for dealing with groups of enemies. In movies and television (which follows into books and other media, then vice versa), we fall prey to the trait of the “most badass stands alone”. A single individual facing multiple people is challenging, even when those enemies don’t know anything about fighting.
Groups bring: Communication, coordination, tactics, strategy, and the ability to limit movement. They come together, use each other as distractions, circle, and come at angles that you can’t defend yourself well from. It gets worse when they know the terrain and can use the environment to their advantage.

Much like fighting groups in real life, writing groups is actually a very difficult endeavor because of those qualities. It’s probably one of the most difficult aspects of writing fight sequences and the easiest to botch. Whether you’re writing semi-realistic fiction or combat with magical/super powered elements, there are some things that are commonly forgotten.

The action is fast, it comes in multiples, and is nearly simultaneous. Take this example below:

Dirthara reappeared, lunging toward her. Her feet blurred on the on the ground, magic pumping through her legs. Both blades drawn back, she swung in low.

Eirwen flicked her sword up, catching Dirthara’s first strike along the edge of her blade. She knocked it away. The deadened trails of their energy filtered through her. The second blow would come toward her ribs. No.

This was wrong.


Blade tip rotating, she flung Dirthara’s second blade up and threw herself sideways.

Revas spun past her. Blades wheeling in a dizzying spiral around his body, he shot through Dirthara. Black tendrils dripped from their edges as a dark shadow lengthened out across the stone behind him.

Unharmed, Dirthara straightened. Holding her blades out before her, one high beside her cheek and the other low before her chest, she resettled into a deep stance. The right foot extended, it pointed directly toward Eirwen. The back lifted onto the ball, turned on a slight angle.

Slowing, Revas also stood. The blades in his hands parallel to the ground. His head swung. Blonde hair drifting across his forehead, the long nose of his profile clear and distinct under the moon’s light. The curving tendrils of his tattoos shone brightly on his cheek as a single, visible, blue eye narrowed.

Behind them, Fals remained motionless.

“Well,” Eirwen muttered. I can’t afford to be defensive. She stepped back, turning sideways as she leaned on her rear leg. Left hand secure on her hilt and the right on the pommel, she lifted it until the blade until it was nearly perpendicular to her cheek. And I can’t afford to be offensive. “This will be tricky.”

I wrote this while messing around with more Anime-esque combat and it’s not really accurate for conventional confrontations, but this is essentially the principle. Attacks are coordinated, enemies will circle if they can and they’ll come from multiple angles. If you’re choosing to have the character stand in fight, then the one in the 1vX is going to be primarily on the defensive. They’ll be ducking and dodging, blocking and pushing, trying to control their terrain, keep all their enemies in front of them. It’s a lot like juggling, they’ve got to keep all the balls in the air or they’re dead.

This means that you as the writer can’t focus on any single opponent, but you can’t afford to waste time either. One of the biggest failures of a 1vX scene is queuing like you see stuntmen do in the movies. The author will focus all their attention on one opponent or they’ll assume that a single hit will be enough to take someone out. It won’t.

It’s true that you want to take out the X number of opponents very quickly, but you can’t just stand around trading blows. You must keep the defending character moving. A character can only afford a few hits at a time, they have to create their own openings through delaying tactics and by forcing their opponents to fight each other.

The ground shook beneath her feet. Fals brought the hammer down, shattering the stone ahead of him into a few hundred tiny pieces. Some fell into the gaping hole. Others floated up, caught in the pull of Myrian’ magic.

Shit! He’s bringing this platform down.

She jumped back, letting Dirthara sail past her. Her body twisting in time to catch the edge of Revas’ spinning blades with her sword, she levered hers up and slid out of the way in a spray of sparks. Heel skidding across the rock as she spun out.

Foot catching on the stone, Revas’ ankle rotated about, and his whole body whirled back. Racing toward her with stomach nearly parallel to the ground, he came in low. The tip of his left blade swung toward her middle.

She shot forward and, instead of letting their blades meet, passed through his body. Landing behind him, she let her gaze rise to the stones ripping up out of the ground. Dirthara’s energy was on a rapid approach from her right. Felas’ hammer was coming down again. That one. Another hit and the whole platform would fall.

Sheathing her sword, Eirwen raced across the fracturing ground. Her index and middle fingers flicked down. Magic flooded them. Cutting between the rising shards, hopping off the stones that gave way beneath her feet, she leaped over the gap protecting Fals with the other two hot on her heels.
Tethers from her mind flung out, spearing down through Myrian’ control to hook into his brain. She seized them with mental fingers and hauled him up short.


Eirwen landed, crouched atop his war hammer. It hovered just centimeters off the ground, utterly still. Her eyes snapped up just in time to see his widen. A faint smile curved her lips and she launched upward. Palm slamming down on his helmet, she twisted over his head. Magic flowed down off her fingers, embedding itself on the inscribed runes in his armor. She hit the ground on the other side and cranked her knee to her chest, slamming her foot into the small of his back.

“Sorry, friend,” she said. “This is where you get off.”

Fals stumbled forward, head turning in time for her to register his surprise.
Her fingers flicked out, eyes narrowing as the magic she’d left behind sank into the runes. Three, two… Her smile widened.

His armor buckled.


Exploding outward in a dizzying blast of blue, Fals cried out. As fire licked up his body, his voice rose to an eerie scream. The magic ate away at his skin, cracking down his exposed arms, his eyes burning with white flames. His hammer fell to the loose ground and the rock beneath his feet gave way.
Fals dropped, vanishing from sight as he plummeted toward the icy mountains below.

Dirthara leaped over him. Legs a blur, she landed on a surviving piece of the platform and flung herself forward with a maddened scream. Wicked daggers gleamed in the moon’s red light.

Eirwen brought her hands up, blue rippling over her shoulders.

Revas lunged from the shadows behind her, winged blades whirling toward her spine in another deadly spiral.

The ground rolled and rocked beneath Eirwen’s feet, disappearing as quickly as Dirthara advanced.

We’re going down.

Focusing on one of the larger floating pieces of stone overhead, Eirwen closed her eyes.

Revas spun through her ghostly shape, leaving a cold shiver as he went.

With a sharp inhale, she disappeared as the ground fell away beneath her.

Reappearing, her feet dropped lightly onto a much smaller piece of rock. Large enough for one. A hot burn spiked her center. Hand clenching over her chest, she dropped to her knees. Can’t expect that to work too many more times.

Teeth sank into her lower lip and she bit down, blood welling on her lower lip. Swallowing, she sat up. Her fist tightened on her chest. She let it go, forcing the pain to recede.

Below, the first of Myrian’ platforms crumbled. Great pieces of granite tumbling down to crash into the distant, smoking ground. Other pieces, more structurally sound pieces, were rising. On them, Dirthara and Revas stood. Their eyes locked on her.

Well, she sighed, left hand settling on her sword hilt. It’s not like I expected that to stop them.

Overhead, the battlefield restructured itself. New platforms populated the air, held together by winding silver staircases. Among them, Myrian’ disk had grown wider as he ripped more and more pieces of the temple out of the ground below.

It’d be an easier to fight if she managed to land on any of them.
That’s quite a long way up, though.

Simple short range teleportation, even the advanced form she’d recovered through her memories was not enough to cover such a distance.

I’ll have to outrun them.

Below, Dirthara and Revas had begun to move. Leaping from one floating rock to the next as they made their way toward her position.

The chances of that? Unlikely.

Eirwen smiled and freed her sword from its sheath.

Only one path left, I suppose.

Green fire rippled along its edges, tiny runes lighting beneath the cross-guard as they raced down the length of the blade. Her right hand extended out and the rune embedded in her palm crackled. A thin circle of green energy appeared beneath her fingers. It spun, rotating around and around as heat simmered on her skin.

She leaned off the edge, focusing the primary portion of her magic into her feet.

Then, Eirwen flung the chakram down and dove after it.

So, how do you do it?

Writing a 1vX is like juggling, you have to bounce between characters. You can’t have the character stop and duke it out with one guy and ignore everyone else.  They have enough time to land one hit, which is unlikely to be permanent, and continue to fight so they can create openings. Even when fighting with a plan to kill, this is difficult because multiple enemies working in tandem have way more options than a single character working alone.

It’s a race against time.

As combat goes on, we get more tired and, as we get more tired, we begin to make mistakes. You’re at your best when you’re fresh. The more energy that gets expended now means that less will be on the table for later. The defending character can’t expend too much energy on any one person because it means they won’t have that energy for the others that are still fresh. A group can share the burden of the expended energy, an individual can’t.

1vX group combat is interesting because it forces the character to start making new and different choices, immediate choices based on their survival. If there’s yet another enemy waiting in the wings, then those choices get even harder. The character must finish them or provide themselves with some means of escape before they become too exhausted.

They must be flawless. Every hit they take is dangerous, because all openings in the defense will be exploited. Every attack they make when they open up their defense must count (and it might not), they must pick their targets carefully, and constantly remain on the move or find a more easily defensible position so that they’re harder to get to.

Control the field.

A character who lets multiple enemies do their thing in a 1vX is lost. Being surrounded means having portions of your body that are left open. You can’t really just stand and fight.

Prioritize the enemies.

The character has to pick their targets for who they’re going after first. It’s easy to be overwhelmed, but they need to start looking for where the threat is and go after those. The enemy which gets prioritized may not be the most dangerous. Even if they’re just faceless mooks, when it comes to creating a clear picture it’s easier if you name them. They don’t have to be their usual names: “the big guy”, “the short one”, “the blonde with blue eyes”, “the guy with nice teeth”, “Frizzy hair”, “Seahawk’s jersey”, etc.

In the above example, Eirwen prioritizes Fals because he’s attacking the terrain while the other two distract her. If she stopped to finish her fight Revas and Dirthara, then she wouldn’t be able to control when the platform went down. Fals was the least dangerous of the three overall, but the most dangerous in the moment. By getting rid of him, she could focus on the other two.

Emphasize teamwork.

If you’re writing combatants who are supposed to be good at what they do, then they need to be using teamwork. Dirthara and Revas come one right after the other, nearly simultaneously, while Fals focuses on bringing the platform down. They’re working together as a distraction to keep Eirwen off balance (if they kill her in the meantime, it’s all good) while Fals destroys the ground they’re on so they all tumble to their deaths.

Punish them for using the same tactic over and over.

Change up the routine. You want to create an adaptive environment, one where the enemy observes and responds to what a character is doing while their fighting. Counters are a huge deal in combat. The main way they’re developed is by witnessing how a technique works, then working out a means to disrupt or stop it. If your character is using a “signature” move, it won’t be signature for very long. Besides, forcing a character to change their battle tactics when they’ve gotten too comfortable is an excellent exercise for the writer who has also gotten too comfortable.

If you start thinking a character is unbeatable, then change the routine. You don’t need MOAR POWER, but what you do need is creativity and characters that are focused on problem solving. See one technique enough times and the game starts to change, the enemy starts figuring the character out. Change or die.


We’ve talked about a single individual combating groups before:

Fight Scene Strategies: the Individual versus the Group


August 23rd 1305: William Wallace executed

On this day in 1305 William Wallace was executed for high treason in London. Wallace was one of the major leaders of the Wars of Scottish Independence that took place throughout the late 13th and early 14th centuries. He led Scottish forces against the English with great success, such as at the Battle of Stirling Bridge in 1297, for which he was knighted. However he was later defeated at the Battle of Falkirk in 1298 and eventually captured in 1305, at which point he was sentenced to be hanged, drawn and quartered by King Edward I of England. After his grisly execution, Wallace’s preserved head was set on a pike atop London Bridge. The Wars for Independence that Wallace had fought so valiantly for were successful, and Scotland remained an independent nation until it joined with England in 1707 to form Great Britain. Wallace has since become a Scottish icon and a symbol of the nation’s continuing campaign for independence. He remains a popular figure in literature and film, most famously portrayed by Mel Gibson as the protagonist of the 1995 film Braveheart.

“I could not be a traitor to Edward, for I was never his subject”
- Wallace on his treason charge

Derek’s men were marching on Anatolia. He said goodbye to his boys, promising new jewels and other trinkets upon his return if they behaved. This was an excursion that Derek’s generals didn’t recommend; they wanted the king to stay where it was safe and govern Sparta from its capitol but Derek was more interested in gaining more territory. 

Sitting atop his large war horse in his bronze armor Derek cut an imposing figure. His soldiers marched behind him all seemed to be sweating in the hot sun. Derek missed his harem and their soft touches already; he knew that his thighs would be aching from riding all day. 


leaderist  asked:

♡ + hershel’s death!

          HERSHEL’S DEMISE was a shock-wave of distress sent across the prison courtyard  . memory begins to unfold , piece by mournful piece  .  a tank comes into view followed by an army of cars  .  a man , a cruel  &  vile man  ,  claiming his THRONE atop the war machine  .  below , like rats caught in a trap , forcibly kneels hershel  &  michonne  . at a loss for words  stopped dead in his tracks  ,  panic floods rick  .  his steps are cautious down the path  ,  eyes refusing to leave the scene  .  &  every single word pushed through the governor’s mouth is a red flag  .  until the exposition ends  ,  &  the intermission begins  .  lives sacrifices  ,  BLOODSHED  ,  &  sweat and tears watered the roots of their prison  .  their sanctuary  .  their home  .  could it all be shared like an unearned gift  ?

        it had to be  .  for the sake of everyone  .  

       though the plan is improvised  ,  rick tries to see it  .  different cell-blocks  &  complete isolation from either party until they were ready  .  rick pushes through to the end until hershel gives the plan his blessing as he addresses the governor  hands behind his back  &  voice tinted with hope  . very quickly  ,  the idea is tossed aside  ,  LIKE GARBAGE  .  there is no compromising with a man who has already made up his mind  .  the vision begins to shrink with every argument had back and forth , but still it fights  .  

       ‘  WE’RE NOT LEAVIN’ —–  y’try and force us we’ll fight back  … now  ,  we can all live in the prison or NONE of us can  .  ‘  

        rick stands by his words  &  time slows  .  the familiar metal sharp blade threatened against hershel’s neck.  a pause  .  ricks feet pace on the ground, back  &  forth as he searches for a word, a sentence, something  ! SAY SOMETHING !  eyes dart as rick singles out a woman with ponytails  — begging the question, IS THIS REALLY WHAT ANY OF YOU WANT? having taking in woodbury’s remaining inhabitants, the clarity of watching scared  &  hopeless people blindly follow a man rang true  .  nobody needed to die  .  they could just let go of all of it  . 

       ‘ everyone who’s made it this far —-  ‘ another pause  .  ‘  we’ve all done the worse kinds of things just t’stay alive — we’re not too far gone  .  we get to change  .  WE GET TO COME BACK  .   i know we all could change . ‘  he swallows with brows furrowed  .  fearfully awaiting a response  .  sweat glosses his face  .  

      only the fence separates the two of them  .  two survivors , two fathers , two friends , a mentor  a student  .  for in rick’s darkest time  ,  hershel stood a BEACON OF LIGHT  . that same beacon of light who saved his boy’s life  .  that same beacon of light who showed him there’s MORE TO LIFE NOW THAN FIGHTING  .  that same beacon of light who gifted him the belief that he could come back  .  that we all do  . don’t we    we get to slow down  . we get enjoy the things we have  .  we get to live  .   

     the katana raises  &  his heart drops  .  as the blade meets hershel’s flesh , there’s an eerie pause for less of a second —- as if no one can fathom what has happened  . adrenaline pumps while blood rushes to his head  .  there’s no time to think  .  gun fire ensues  .  everything  is  red  .    


Where Manon makes a promise and intends to keep it.

Title: Promise
Word Count: 1973
Pairing: Manorian (plus one!)

Princess Sorrin Blackbeak-Havilliard rushed through the hallways of her father’s large castle with a half-eaten cookie in one hand and a wooden practice dagger in the other. As she ran in her light blue summer dress, the five-year old glanced through the windows, catching the sight of three wyverns ready to fly on the eastern courtyard.

The witchling panted as her gold eyes took in the open doors toward the gardens and she avoided servants left and right and jumped over tables to make it just in time. Her father was already there, dressed in the usual fighting leather tunic he donned for training. His wear wasn’t what caused Sorrin to frown however, it was the fact that her mother was in full flying gear, Wing Cleaver strapped to her back and Abraxos fully saddled and ready to go.

She didn’t care what her parents were talking about as she bounded toward them, wisps of dark blue-black hair falling into her cherub face. “You’re leaving?”

Her mother blinked, but it was her father who spoke. “Hey, sweetheart, I thought you were still eating breakfast.”

Sorrin’s frown deepened as she walked straight to her mother. “You’re leaving?!” She repeated, louder than before.

Manon crossed her arms. “I’m needed at the Wastes-”


Dorian cleared his throat. “Sorrin, we’ve talked about this, baby-”

The little girl growled, the sound reminiscent of her mother. “No! And I’m not a baby!” She didn’t catch the knowing look Manon gave Dorian or his subsequent huff.

“Sorrin,” her mother called and the little girl looked up at her. “I’m sorry I can’t stay, but I’m needed-”

“You said you would go to my recital!” The witchling exclaimed, referring to the dance recital she had been practicing for the past few months. “If you don’t go that means you lied to me!”

The few guards and courtiers walking along the courtyard turned to stare and the King and Queen shared a look. Dorian stepped back, allowing Manon to take over while the witch thought over her next words carefully. “Sorrin,” she said and her daughter pouted, her dark brows coming together in an exaggerated way. “There is an emergency I need to take care of in the west. We have talked about how this can happen.”

The frown turned sad and Sorrin’s bottom lip trembled with barely any restraint. “You said you would go.”

Manon had the decency to look apologetic. “I’m sorry, but I can’t assure you I will be back by then.”

“But you said-” a hiccup, “I want you to go.” She had been practicing really really hard just so her mother would see her and now it had all been for nothing.

“I’m sorry,” the Queen repeated. Tears fell down the witchling’s face and her mother stepped closer. “I’ll make it up to you, alright? We’ll do something together when I get back.”

“No!” She wailed, and for the first time in a long time, Sorrin threw a fit. She kicked and screamed and cried, all the while grabbing her mother’s leg or edge of the cape or whatever she could get her hands on. It was not fair. It was not fair that she had done all this for her mother and she wouldn’t even be there to see it.

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The Dragon Age Inquisition DLC item pack “Spoils of the Qunari” is now available!!!

Released: 7/7/2015

Size: 78.95 mb

Price: $4.99

Pack description:  The Spoils of the Qunari content pack adds new items to your Inquisition, inspired by the style of Par Vollen! Bring the Qun to Skyhold with several options that represent your dedication to discipline, from a massive warrior throne to various sculptures honoring the Qunari people. The Spoils of the Qunari content pack also includes two sets of unique armor as loot, including an Arishok armor set, as well as schematics to craft new pieces for your party members. Ride across Thedas atop an armored war mount and vanquish your enemies in the name of the Qun!

anonymous asked:

You should know how highly respected you are in the reylo thread at the Jedi Council forums. Your meta has been posted and analyzed reverently and you're praised for having a keen eye on reylo. Also that reylo thread is king, boasting over 600 pages of great, insightful discussion, and sits atop the Star Wars XIII and IX subforum putting all other threads to shame in sheer devotion and level of activity. Reylo is a true phenomenon there. I just thought you should know if you didn't already.


Seriously though, I am very happy you guys like my meta, and that people outside of tumblr are reading it. Should I join n’ say hello?



Do not turn and watch him leave. Do not turn and watch him leave. Did I nod at him? Was that stupid? Was I smiling? Did I look angry? Lydia feels her cheeks grow hotter than a fireplace. Stop it. He doesn’t have time for your stupid crush. You’re his boss and he’s busy. Turning slightly, she sees him leaving the room from the corner of her eye. She leans against the war table, absentmindedly toying with the pieces. Stupid, stupid crush.

Dear Inquisidiary, today Comander Cullen said Lake Calenhad is shaped like a bunny. He is adorable when he smiles. The scar on his lip looks delightfully smoochable. I’m a big stupid head who wants the commander of her army to kiss her passionately atop the war table. A sigh escapes her lips. I’m going mad.



Lydia makes an effort to smile this time. He looks surprised. Holy Andraste, how formal have I been with this man? But he smiles back! She coughs, trying to adjust her hair to hide the blush. He’s just being nice. Get back to work, foolish girl.

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Scene from the Rāmāyaṇam; Rāma the seventh avatar, going into battle seated atop a war elephant, accompanied by Lakṣmaṇa and Hanuman. 18th century, Panjab Hills, India.


The Elven King charging into battle atop his War Elk. (Part 2 / Part 1)