Ta-daaaa! This post has been stocked in my scraps for like… a decade! I’ve been changing things, names, dates so many times that I have issues myself to remember who and when. But we are finally here!
Some general, basic informations about my Overwatch Child, Margherita. It’s the first time ever I go this deep with an Original Character, so I really hope you like her! More infos, skins and backstory will come soon.
Fancy to tell me if you’d like to play as her? Ahah! I totally would!
I wrote more detailed explanations about her abilities, but I’m gonna hide the rest of the post since I talked too much. LOL
It took twenty minutes to lull Rosie back into a sound sleep. She was drowsy from the medicine, which helped, but she was clearly still feeling the effects of the fever, and the first couple of times John tried to lay her back down she woke back up with a miserable cry. Honestly, John thought as he held her close and walked her around the room, she might as well be Sherlock’s daughter if her appalling timing was anything to go by.
He was torn between feeling grateful and regretful at her interruption. He had still been able to feel Sherlock’s warmth clinging to him as he’d climbed the stairs to get her, but it had dissipated more and more every second like steam rising from the surface of a pond on a cold day, lovely and impossible to hold on to. But maybe it was better this way; maybe they needed a few moments to cool off, to map out this new territory before they lost themselves in it.
He sighed and pressed his lips to Rosie’s head, hushing her with soothing words. She turned her head into his shoulder, sniffling, and let her eyes close, one fist clutching at the worn collar of his t-shirt. Music drifted up through the floorboards, the delicate notes of Sherlock’s violin wending their way through the flat.
John smiled; he recognized the tune. He didn’t know the name of it, but it was what Sherlock always played when Rosie couldn’t sleep. He’d been meaning to ask if it was one of Sherlock’s own compositions because it resembled a lullaby, but it wasn’t one John had ever heard before. The thought alone made John ache to return downstairs and finish what they’d started.
Rosie’s breathing slowly evened out, deep and steady, as Sherlock’s music drifted around them, and John gently lowered her back down into her crib; she sighed and curled up around her blanket but didn’t wake. John held onto the edge of the crib and watched her a moment longer, strangely nervous all of a sudden. Which was ridiculous, he thought, since he knew that the only thing awaiting him downstairs was what he’d always wanted.
But perhaps that was just it. He and Sherlock had never been able to get to this place before; there had always been something standing between them, death and marriage and chaos keeping them apart. And now that he was here, now that this new life was his to take…he was afraid he wouldn’t know how to keep it.
He shut his eyes, breathing in and out, attempting to calm the rapid beating of his heart. When he was sure he wasn’t going to lose it, he pushed away from Rosie’s crib and took the stairs with slow, even steps.
In that moment, Ronan looks like some kind of ferocious monument to a new found god; young, but infinite in power and a furious kind of sharp-edged beauty. Adam’s lungs feel a little short of air, but it’s probably just due the cold.
“I was freezing my fucking balls off out there.” Ronan complains and, just like like that, the illusion is shattered. He is a boy once more.
Cabeswater is trying to get Adam to realise something, but he’s struggling to understand what. When he and Ronan break down in the middle of nowhere, Adam finally finds himself with enough time on his hands to figure out some things about himself and his feelings.
Whatever response Ronan gives, it’ll be the truth, not just spilled platitudes; it makes Adam desperately want to win his approval. Ronan, this enigma of a boy with the ability to create anything from nothing, who has dreamed some of the most amazing, ridiculous creations. Adam chews on his bottom lip briefly, before forcing himself to stop. To be casual.
Ronan stops, stares at the gift sitting on his lap and then barks out the loudest laugh in delight. “Fuck, Parrish that is hideous!” His eyes are alight with a wild kind of joy.
(Or the one where a prompt generator gave me “Adam Parrish knits Ronan Lynch a hideous sweater” and I ran with it.)
The elk appeared out of the shadow of the forest canopy as if materializing in mid-air. He was as tall as the moa, but also had massive antlers that reached up and tangled with the branches on the trees. His coat was a dusty chestnut color with a white starburst over his chest and smattering of white across his cheeks and nose. The elk leaned over the fence and bent his massive head, as if showing Adam deference. To Adam’s right, Destroyer knelt down on her front knees and dipped her nose into the grass.
To Adam’s left, Ronan bent his head too, like he was about to say grace. When he spoke his voice was soft and low. “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you. I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.”
(Or, the one where Adam is a veterinarian and Ronan has dreamt up a whole menagerie of extinct/magical creatures.)
Falling for Ronan had felt like going to speak at the same time as someone else after a long silence, two people bumbling over their words to say, no, sorry, go ahead about three times before one of them says what they were going to say.
“Alright Parrish, I yield. What is it, then? You miss the Daisy Dukes and shitkicker boots on those cowgirls back home?” “I’m from Virginia, not Texas. Not a lot of cow-anybodies.” “I refuse to believe you don’t know anyone who lives on a farm.” Parrish rolls his eyes hard enough to shake the earth. “Stewart, of course I know somebody who lives on a farm. Just no cow-people. There’s a difference.”
Adam is in college. He has a roommate. Adam’s Virginian accent has gotten him curious. Also, Ronan comes to visit.
“Yeah? Which was the big guy downstairs? Because my good Catholic upbringing didn’t make the distinction.”
Out of nervous habit, Ronan brings his wrist up to his mouth and chews on the leather bands there. He’s been wearing them and chewing on them since he was sixteen. It’s a wonder there’s anything left to them at all. He feels the same way about his good Catholic upbringing.
“I think,” Adam says, quiet now. “That he wasn’t very nice, but that he wasn’t ever given a reason to be. I think it was self-defense.” It’s an explanation that sounds both close to home and far away. He looks up and out the window. His gaze gets caught there, distracted for the first time since they started.
Ronan looks as well, but it’s dark out now and all he can see is the shadow box reflection of the room against the black behind. Set against the rest of it, Adam’s hunched over reflection looks small and dark. Ronan is little more than a few swaths of stark negative space cut against the white glow. Neither of them has a halo.
(Or, that one where Adam is an art major and Ronan agrees to model for a sculpture of Satan.)
Adam seldom dreamt of other people. His dreams were nebulous, winding, leaving him with abstract impressions. But there was Ronan, solid as flesh—and from there, the dream left Adam with the echo of a feeling.
Subtitle: The real ghosts are the friends we made along the way! The gang goes to a Halloween haunted house attraction, only to find that things are a bit more….realistic…than expected.
Ronan reminded himself, viciously, that he interacted with a real ghost every day of his life. But Noah’s moments of otherworldly strangeness had nothing on this specter’s air of sheer sinister deadness.
Adam took a step forward next to him, and Ronan’s hand shot out, fingers gripping Adam’s sleeve. Being cornered like this made Ronan feel the same way he’d felt trying to get out of the dank cellar – claustrophobic and scared and angry. “Parrish,” he hissed, trying to pull Adam back. The girl was a good 20 feet away, but it still felt too close, and being any closer seemed like a decidedly bad idea.
Blue has a favor to ask of Ronan while Gansey and Adam are away. She ends up receiving much more than she expected. (Or, that one where Ronan teaches Blue to drive stick and they have adventures.) Post-BLLB.
“As you keep pointing out, I’ve died twice,” said Gansey. He was so bright that Henry almost wanted to look away from him, and so compelling that he couldn’t. “I don’t care what I’m supposed to be doing.”
During a meeting with a senior European diplomat, senior White House official Sebastian Gorka reportedly drew up an alarming proposal to split Libya into three parts.
The map Gorka drew divides Libya back into the Ottoman-era territories of Cyrenaica, Tripolitania and Fezzan, the Guardian reported. The European diplomat allegedly responded by saying it would be “the worst solution” for Libya.
Since the violent revolution that overthrew Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi, Libya has been torn between two factions supporting entirely separate governments. On one side of the new civil war is the U.N.-backed Government of National Accord, and on the other is a faction led by General Khalifa Haftar. With no clear end in sight, world powers like Russia and Turkey have been stepping up to offer support for one side or the other. Read more.(4/10/2017 11:17 AM)
Did Europeans “civilize” the Americas? Actually, anthropologists tell us that “hunters and gatherers were relatively peaceful, compared to agriculturalists, and that modern societies were more warlike still. Thus violence increases with civilization.
[…] Textbooks cannot resist contrasting "primitive” Americans with modern Europeans.
[…] Europeans persuaded Natives to specialize in the fur and slave trades. Native Americans were better hunters and trappers than Europeans, and with the guns the Europeans sold them, they became better still. Other Native skills began to atrophy.
[…] because whites “demanded institutions reflective of their own with which to relate,” many Native groups strengthened their tribal governments… New confederations and nations developed.. The tribes also became more male- dominated, in imitation of Europeans.. [there was] an escalation of Indian warfare… [the slave trade helped] to deagriculturize Native Americans. To avoid being targets for capture, Indians abandoned their cornfields and their villages.
[…] "Europeans did not “civilize” or “settle” roaming Indians, but had the opposite impact.
[…] According to Benjamin Franklin, “All their government is by Counsel of the Sages. There is no Force; there are no Prisons, no officers to compel Obedience, or inflict Punishment.” Probably foremost, the lack of hierarchy in the Native socieites in the eastern United States attracted the admiration of European observers. Frontiersmen were taken with the extent to which Native Americans enjoyed freedom as individuals. Women were also accorded more status and power.. than in white societies of the time.
[…] "Indeed, Native American ideas may be partly responsible for our democratic institutions. We have seen how Native ideas of liberty, fraternity, and equality found their way to Europe to influence social philosophers such as Thomas More, Locke, Montaigne, Montesquieu, and Rousseau… Through 150 years of colonial contact, the Iroquois League stood before the colonies as an object lesson in how to govern a large domain democratically.
[…] John Mohawk has argued that American Indians are directly or indirectly responsible for the public-meeting tradition, free speech, democracy, and “all those things which got attached to the Bill of Rights.” Without the Native example, “do you really believe that all those ideas would have found birth among a people who had spent a millennium butchering other people because of intolerance of questions of religion?”
[…] Indian warfare absorbed 80 percent of the entire federal budget during George Washington’s administration and dogged his successors for a century as a major issue and expense… [in many cases] the settlers were Native American, the scalpers white.
[…] All the textbooks tell how Jefferson “doubled the size of the United States by buying Louisiana from France.” Not one points out that it was not France’s land to sell–it was Indian land… Indeed, France did not really sell Louisiana for $15,000,000. France merely sold its claim to the territory… Equally Eurocentric are the maps textbooks use to show the Lewis and Clark expedition. They make Native American invisible, implying that the United States bought vacant land from the French… [Textbooks imply that the Indians were naive about land ownership, but] the problem lay in whites’ not abiding by accepted concepts of land ownership.
[…] The most important cause of the War of 1812.. was land– Indian land… The United States fought five of the seven major land battles of the War of 1812 primarily against Native Americans… [a] result of the War of 1812 was the loss of part of our history. A century of learning [from Native Americans] was coming to a close… until 1815 the word Americans had generally been used to refer to Native Americans; after 1815 it meant European Americans… Carleton Beals has written that “our acquiescence in Indian dispossession has molded the American character.” … destroyed our national idealism. From 1815 on, instead of spreading democracy, we exported the ideology of white supremacy. Gradually we sought American hegemony over Mexico, the Philippines, much of the Caribbean basin, and, indirectly, over other nations… We also have to admit that Adolf Hitler displayed more knowledge of how we treated Native Americans than American high schoolers who rely on their textbooks. Hitler admired our concentration camps for Indians in the west “and often praised to his inner circle the efficiency of America’s extermination–by starvation and uneven combat” as the model for his extermination of Jews and Gypsies.
[…] Yet we “still stereotype Native Americans as roaming primitive hunting folk, unfortunate victims of progress.
Lies My Teacher Told Me:Everything Your American History Textbook Got Wrong
there. Here’s a request from @loudcherryblossomangel (my tumblr is not taging people…but I tried!)
I’m not sure…) ask me if I could make the Territory Map from his/er Warrior
world (That I really liked!)! It took me sometime, cus as I said I’m not the best at landscapes, but
I liked how it turned out! I wasn’t sure if I should paint it but it was a
good practice…cuz yeah I use it to practice some stuffs. I hope you like it and
as you can see I took some “artistic liberties” to try to make more realistic
and I create the icons, BUT you can just ignore them if want! I just wanted to
see how it would turn out!
Ok, I’m kind mumbling already… Hope you like it
and thanks for the experience (my very first request! **shinning eyes**)!