APOSTASY!

god will answer to me.

[viciousgracess]

viciousgrace  —  a multi-muse curated by via.  featuring a selection of muses from various media.  strictly 21+ audiences only:  triggering materials may feature. selective and perpetually low activity.

⁰¹.  rules   ⁰².  muses   ⁰³.  prompts

travelling with: @recitedemise

[viciousgracess]

this is a repost from @eikonslay. i wasn't gonna talk about this but there had been a few people who approached me about it, so i guess it's time to clear things up about why i'm on someone's DNI. all 12 mutuals ( on eikonslay ) who i have here already know i'm kind of a piece of shit so i'm not going to tell y'all that i'm a good person. here's what i will say though:

i'm not going to dispute this person's claims and say i didn't do the bullying and gaslighting they're accusing me of ( along with another person, but i won't speak for her. ) that is their experience of me, the impact i had on them, and they're valid for that. i don't recall ever setting out to do just that maliciously or deliberately, but you can hurt people regardless of intent. and for any hurt or damage that i caused this person in 2018 that obviously had a strong footprint on their experience here to this day, for whatever it's worth, i'm sorry.

however, i will say that there are two sides to these things. here's what i remember of this person and the impact they had on me:

while i won't speak for exactly what transpired between them and bubbles ( because i don't know lol ), i vaguely remember the issue being a breach of ship exclusivity by this person towards bubbles without prior communication.

i referred this person to my IRL job at that time. i vouched mostly for their character but also for their ability, but the latter i knew they had to and could prove themself. i remember that their lack of professionalism and irresponsibility put me in hot water and compromised my livelihood. for turning in subpar work, late work, and IIRC, kinda ghosting the company, we almost lost a client.

this is the impact they had on me. i was rightfully upset about what happened because they uh. ghosted me, too, and didn't tell me what was up with them. i understand sometimes people struggle with things and can undergo executive dysfunction or whatever else. to be honest, if only they gave me the courtesy of an explanation, i would have been open to it. but nah, they just blocked me everywhere for reasons i don't know to this day, because they never communicated it to me.

i let it go, though, even though i had to field questions from both my manager and my boss at that time. i take full responsibility for however my own upset manifested as stated above. i clearly hurt this person. they hurt me, too. it's not my business how they choose to protect themselves and set their boundaries, but i will say that i feel like i'm being watched, and that also makes me uncomfortable.

i don't really know where this person is, what their blogs are, etc: i don't give a fuck. and i mean that as in: i have other shit going on, a lot of other shit going on. i'm not here, i have been so scarce on tumblr since the middle of 2024. i do not have the ample supply of fucks or energy to dedicate to this issue. i've known about the DNI bc someone told me last year. I DID NOT TALK ABOUT IT. i was asked again yesterday ( february 7th ) and people were like... well, how long has this been a thing? and lord jesus, i don't know.

but for some reason, this person keeps finding my blogs, finding and blocking my friends, even friends i only interacted with on this blog ( eikonslay ) very, very recently. THIS BLOG HAS 12 MUTUALS, SOME OF WHICH ARE THE SAME PERSON WITH MULTIPLE BLOGS. not promoed anywhere, with only 100+ posts and they somehow found it. i did not talk about this blog on viciousgrace, before i followed 4 more people last month, this blog only had 7 mutuals ( not counting their other blogs. )

addendum: as of february 9th, i also noticed they blocked a blog i made roughly around 2 weeks ago ( maqitek ) which i only mentioned on eikonslay once and which only has a pinned post and two reblogged post, and 4 mutuals.

so how is this person finding me? how is this person finding my friends? i think it's telling how my wrongdoing is highlighted on a DNI but no responsibility was taken for the harm that was also caused to me. but see, i'm over it, despite it being my IRL livelihood that was affected. i don't need an apology or even acknowledgement or an admission etc; i'll leave that up to their conscience. and i don't care if they stalk me or find me in the FYP ( which idk how if we don't have mutuals in common and i rarely post but i also don't know how tumblr algorithm works so w/e i guess??? ) but for someone who is accusing another person of blog watching... that sure feels like a past time they both share.

anyway, go look at my blogs and all the writing i'm NOT doing, and all the activity that is not happening, lol. but please leave my friends alone. they don't know you, they did nothing wrong to you. i just think it's a little weird that you seem to be actively seeking them out to block them in association with me... i understand the need to protect your peace but actively tracking people, and for at least one case, repeatedly, is... man, idk... kinda weird? if you're finding me through them, i suggest you stop. i'll announce it now every time i make a new blog so you can find me easier that way and block me for your comfort.

[saintsdawn-a]

[ WAIT ]:          realizing the receiver is about to leave the room, the sender hastily reaches out and catches their wrist, preventing them from continuing their departure. / from lyanna!

prompts that make me go 👀.

is this how it feels to be a puppet on a string? tugged and pulled in a direction without their say, but do they try to escape? absolutely not, and how could they? it’s the morninglord that guides them.

everyone is resting; leaning against old, vine covered walls and struggling to keep their eyes open. not florence, though. drawn like bowstring and pacing, the cleric is desperate to leave.

it’s his monastery. it’s his domain. they need to delve deeper.

they hadn’t realized they were moving. . . until @viciousgrace catches their wrist. it stops them in their tracks. rooted. “ i wasn’t going far. i just. . . i can’t sit still. not here – there’s too much to see, to fix. ”

a pinched expression turns to lyanna. “ he’s never been this loud. ”

[viciousgracess]

they had a look on their face, just as they were drifting away. it scared lyanna enough to prompt her into action: a quick hand shoots out, encloses itself around florence's wrist. it's entirely possible, of course, that she's overreacting, but it almost feels like a disservice to sit still and do nothing, to let them walk away on their own.

there is a weight to this place that she knows florence feels, more than anyone else in the party. lae'zel is on edge and eager to extract the parasite writhing behind their eye, and the anticipation only compounds the nervous electricity that seems to run at the periphery of everything. he's never been this loud, florence says. for the violence that took place in this monastery, lyanna can hardly blame lathander for clamoring vehemently, though she herself cannot hear him.

all the more reason not to leave the cleric alone. "let me come with you," the ranger implores, not letting go of the wrist she's holding, but loosening her grip. "going off on your own is a terrible idea and you know it." the rest of the party is too tired to pay them any heed, but lyanna is still awake enough to watch florence's back, and to survey what she can of this place as necessary. "what's he telling you?" she asks as they begin to walk. "i bet he's very pissed about..." she gestures all around them, at all the fresh wreckage sanctioned by the gith. "well, all of this."

[recitedemise]

He watches her profile the wine.

As usual, her face stern yet youthful affords him no tells.

And maker, she's so dutiful, isn't she?, slaughtering in her armor with her burden like the mountains hounding at her heels? It's strange to believe her dainty, at once a noble primed for courtrooms and ornamented parlors. Here, she'd always struck him hard, blood slotted at her gums where she can lick that copper. Her youth would feel distant like some whisper from an era long lost to the centuries. Quietly, he should wonder if she loathes it, the hemorrhage at her nailbeds and her wretched, looming dying quaking in her veins. What if she prefered the gossip of the nobles? The silks?

She doesn't. To be honest, he rather imagines there is no life she misses.

But Gale hasn't the heart for such misery, he finds, such unrepentant grief only to be worsened with liquor. Instead, he considers something else as they enjoy the dry cellar's rustic atmopshere. There's no life she's missing, not when the one she adores is playing before her. She was just nineteen and beleagured by the world. Now, she isn't, and he'd bear her, too.

"Oh, considering the meddling of those higher powers that be—" nobles, the Chantry, all that endless and tiring politicking, he implies "—I'd wager there'd be demons about us no matter the cirumstance." Of course, robed fools bit less than a yowling darkspawn drooling blood and spit, but a moment to lambast the spoiled in their churches? When he breathes, it tumbles, and held there suspended, he'd appear perhaps...boyish.

He's greying. Expression warm, those lines about his eyes echo nights spent reading.

"Not that I'm delighted to share my time amidst a blight, don't misunderstand me, but it speaks to the persistence of the human spirit that he'd somehow want again despite all this despair." His use of 'his' is pointed, loosened and slipped from the shores of his mouth. Oh. He's ought to pour them some wine again, and in the cellar, the thick, indulgently slosh rings the quiet like treetops. "Never had I ever thought I'd risk it again. In hindsight, I'm noticing a bit of necromancer in you as well."

[viciousgracess]

she smiles at that, at the clever implication that meddling nobles are a kind of demonic visitation, too. ah, but she has been plagued by them, yes? it's an accurate picture to paint, here in this damp cellar, it's a comical caricature tending to the fires of their amusement.

"me, a necromancer?" there's surprise in her tone, a splash of disbelief. the letter she found in highever's vaults had since confirmed to her that her mother was from the imperium, but what kind of life she led, beatrize doesn't know. all she has is a name long-forgotten and a past long-buried. but what if her mother was a mage? what if the fade sings in her blood?

it doesn't matter. aside from the bad dreams ( that persisted even after the blight ) she's never felt any strong connection to the fade. and besides, she knows gale is merely using it as some kind of metaphor. "am i stirring awake long-slumbering things in you?"

that smile again; somber and earnest and punctuated by the soulfulness of her large amber eyes. the warden's dark hair is loose around her face. it makes her look more a woman than a soldier, sharp lines softened, blurred; vibrant even in the dark. "what risks are you inclined to take again, right now?"

[marthajefferson]

Le Comte de Monte Cristo | The Count of Monte Cristo (2024) dir. Matthieu Delaporte & Alexandre de La Patellière

[viciousgracess]

personally, i think we should ban old men from writing about teenage girls. because what the fuck is this —

[mousedetective]

Organizations To Help Indigenous People

I've been reblogging three separate posts for a while now and I thought I'd combine them all into one for maximum ease. Please reblog this list and help these organizations if you can!

Warrior Women Project

Sitting Bull College

First Nations COVID-19 Response Fund

The Redhawk Native American Art Council

Partnership With Native Americans

Native American Heritage Association

National Indigenous Women's Resource Center

Indigenous Women Rising (abortion access fund)

Indian Residential School Survivor’s Society

Stop Line 3

Honor The Earth

The Lakota People’s Law Project

Amazon Frontlines

‘Āina Momona

The Native Wellness Institute

The Native Americans Rights Fund

National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation/University of Manitoba

First Nations Child & Family Caring Society

Native Women's Association of Canada

Indspire

Mi'kmaw Native Friendship Centre

Micmac Benevolent Society

Mawita'mk

Advancing Indigenous People In STEM

Community Outreach and Patient Empowerment

The Association on American Indian Affairs

First Nations Development Institute

American Indian College Fund

Diné Citizens Against Ruining Our Environment (CARE)

Hopa Mountain

Indigenous Values Initiative

Native American Disability Law Center

People’s Partner for Community Development 

If anyone has links to other organizations that help indigenous people, please feel free to add them!

[theoppositeofprofound]

girl i don’t know how to say this. that’s not a found family that’s a platoon of child soldiers.

[richietoaster]

Are you a “can’t write dialogue” writer or a “can’t describe anything” writer

[dailyflicks]

EMMA (2020) dir. Autumn de Wilde

[sovietstrings-arc]

" ah, my dear warden.. always so dutiful. " he'd been primed for refusal and when it comes, zevran only laughs. he nudges a rock forward with the toe of his boot while he does, too. until its drawn a route in the dirt and leaves a course to follow for the others, eventually. once they'd caught up and this little scouting venture had served its purpose. forced him back into a position her comrades still hadn't warmed to. he liked a challenge, but there'd be no denying his heart wasn't fully into it.

he isn't homesick.. or, he wasn't, initially. she'd asked and he'd answered, but it takes little, these days, to remind him why he'd always preferred the northern stretch of thedas. warm weather.. good food. far fewer turnips, at the very least.

" i would tell them nothing. they'd never even know. " and, were he a fortunate man, in their inevitable discovery, they'd be just deplorable enough to assume the worst and stay shy to their approach. " i'm sure your fellow warden could lead the charge. even if he doesn't seem to know he can steal new socks if he doesn't have the coin for them.. " one hole too many has clouded his opinion of the man, perhaps, but there was faith enough to nod through the suggestion. let someone else blow the horn for once, he says. let someone else hold the reins while she got the much needed rest she'd earned.

but..

zevran stays his argument. lithe shoulders rise, and fall, and in the slow-motioned dismissal, he's committed himself to this trek anew. " but by all means.. let us walk this dusty, smelly road into the deep hours instead. " commitment, however, never came without griping in the past.

[viciousgracess]

always so dutiful...

for some reason, those words rankled nelka. a rebuttal is poised on her tongue, ready to be served sharp and cold, but she chooses to swallow it whole. zevran doesn't know because she never told him. she isn't here by choice — the path she's following is far from noble. maybe they have more in common than they think they do.

"i can't tell if you're serious or not," she confesses, peering at him with her soft brown eyes, darkened ever so slightly by the shadow of apprehension. it's neither a yes or a no, and she is both tempted and thwarted. something feels off, nelka thinks; as though zevran is merely going through the steps of a familiar dance, following a pre-determined pattern to a predictable conclusion.

she thinks they do not know enough of each other to jump into bed. that doesn't stop a lot of people. nelka, however, is not someone who can compartmentalize intimacy in neat boxes. zevran should know what he's getting into, at the very least.

his commentary about alistair makes her chuckle. "lead the charge? he practically pushed me to do that. he's not taking up that mantle anytime soon." it still annoys her from time to time. she's not the forgiving sort, not really, but alistair is earning her good graces day after passing day. unwillingness to be at the helm aside, he's reliable, sometimes funny, and always trying his best despite the holes in his socks.

their walk continues in silence for some time before nelka interrupts it. "zevran," she says, his name rolling off her tongue with easy familiarity. they should be heading back to camp soon with all the information that they've gathered, but while they are alone, she is determined to make the most of their time. "you should ask me again in a month. but only if you mean it." her dark eyes are intent upon his.

[viciousgracess]

@stygicniron tells drew: you're forever assuming the worst.

prompts ( * always accepting )

"it's called being realistic." she volleys back, flipping her dark sheet of hair over her shoulder. drew thinks it's a fair thing to be considering their track record; their plans never work, they're always under attack, and most of the time, they're left to fend for themselves. the two of them are lucky survivors of everything they had gone through over the years ( which was a lot ) but while she doesn't know where that left nico in terms of perspective, she knows intimately how it shaped hers.

these days, her priority is moving on with her life, actually having one to start, away from all the trouble. for some reason, however, she keeps coming back to camp halfblood instead of vacationing with her friends, despite the countless invitations. it is home, she thinks to herself. her first and for a very long time, her only. usually, it's chaos, but a lot of the campers haven't arrived yet; the big house is empty save for her and the son of hades.

drew tosses a hotdog at seymour with incredible aim. "how do you find it in you to still be optimistic?" he's suffered a lot, she knows. the daughter of aphrodite remembers the first time she saw nico di angelo and his sister bianca, and how he disappeared when she died. she couldn't fathom it then, losing a sister, and she didn't blame him for running. now she knows what it's like. and in her own way, she ran from her sister's death, too. "must be exhausting," drew adds, but she's lost all her conviction.

[adamanteine-a]

`` it’s good to see you again. `` she responds, her voice almost velvety. silky, smooth, tailored by the finest seamstress— tucked between the slightest soft vowel, a hint of something collected. it sounds like honey, wine, a molten mass of spring clouds.  there's a tilt of her head, knowing, a shimmer of recognition painted in those brown eyes. shams stays silent, this time, matching her steps, observing her silently out of the corner of her eye. she's making sure she's etching her into her memory. the reason remains the same: she tends to study her surroundings and the people in them to calculate how she wishes to act next. it didn't matter whether it was back at home or in one of the camps, it is an important tactic to her. the woman comes to a standstill. parting her lips, enough for her voice to flow through, almost like something so silken, but there's a curious tilt she manages to hide.

her words carry a sincerity she could never fake.  `` i will be, yes. `` she's steadfast as she says this, where she’s standing, immovable.  `` i figured it would be best for me to be here. `` it had made her fall into a contemplative silence a while ago. before she came here, she had to weigh her options, studying the situation and making sure she's making the right choice. if she hadn't, she would have found herself tapping her idle fingers, hands eager to fidget with something. and this situation isn't one she isn't familiar with. her travels have always led her to places she was unfamiliar with, which have simply made her relentless in her pursuit of whatever she imagines must be hidden behind locked gates and doors, beneath all those layers of secrecy. she tilts her head at the other, head shaking no at her question before she smiles.  `` i would appreciate you showing me around, however. ``

[viciousgracess]

aisha smiles. it feels stilted on her face, like a mask that doesn't fit quite right. too small or too big or too foreign. did she smile while she was tranquil? probably not, if the interaction did not necessitate such pleasantries. a flicker of anger rises up in her but she squashes it down like a pest. "i can sincerely say that i feel the same." this, at least, is true. there is merit in having another military strategist in haven; she can invite commander azari to the war table and address her as they discuss their next moves, which is a far more palatable thought than acknowledging cullen's existence.

"i don't know how things work around here yet, but i'll ask leliana about your accommodations." surely, something had already been arranged. aisha wants to ensure it, however; it feels like part of her responsibility now. she's inclined to agree that it was best for shams to be here, nodding at her words as they continue their walk, ignoring the stares they seems to be inviting. the sun is high up in the sky despite the thick snow on the ground, and if nothing else, the day's brightness has put the herald in a somewhat accommodating mood. "let's head this way. there is a tavern called the singing maiden. i'm sure you can hear exactly why."

from the tavern door, a melancholic voice emanates, along with the inaudible chatter of soldiers. the two of them enter and aisha introduces shams to flissa, to maryden ( whose singing was never interrupted ) before leaving out the second door and into the bright sunlight again. "do you have a retinue of soldiers with you?" the herald asks, blinking up at commander azari. she must have... they will need accommodating, too. "this is a good place for them to unwind after a long day. it gets a bit raucous in the evenings, i believe." a smile again, more of a thoughtless reaction, and seemingly more at home on her face this time. aisha gestures for shams to move forward, to the direction of the apothecary.

"what do you do to unwind, commander?" the question is casual but tinged with undeniable curiosity. she wonders the same about herself, but no answer comes to mind. "you must take a break from your duties from time to time."

[recitedemise]

He would say that life isn't fair; however, were he to do that, he may as well go for the whole nine yards. See, life isn't fair, dear Warden, and the sky up above them shivers endless and blue -- except! Well, it isn't blue, is it?, trembling as it is with the blustering of a storm? He looks. It's ugly and throbbing and monochromatic. Grey. Summer's warm, he would tell her, but that's clearly wrong, too.

Between them, their meager candle crackles near gutturally on its pathetic last fumes. It's unseasonably chilly, he grouses, nipping enough already to waltz, waltz, slither like some viper past his robes. Still, Gale figures that's the normal in this baffling wasteland, and as it were, novelty, he's realizing, only comes in droves. Together, they sit blighted, one sick for duty and another for a love. Before, perhaps these reasons would've struck them noble, but reckoning with his body as it aches to the bone? To be honest, there's a hardly a way to deal with it.

Nonetheless, Gale busies with his cup, his paltry, watered vintage that tiptoes on borderline swill. The mood should be somber, gussied like a widow at her late love's wake, but the smile he wears bears no hurt at all. He even laughs. From his chest, it rumbles like a river as he knits his brow. "This isn't exactly a game I've indulged in much since my more notorious youth, but I imagine," he jokes, "that there are fewer times better suited for rebellion than ours." The storeroom's so cold. "Right then. Perhaps we should get a little more serious. Beatrize." Will she sip? "Never have I ever regretted those choices that led here." / @viciousgrace, ♡ liked for a starter.

[viciousgracess]

never have i ever regretted those choices that led here. and can she say the same? yes. yes, she can.

the wine is sour on her tongue, but that's nothing new. nothing that bothers her, anyway, she who is used to the road and its meager offerings. there was a life, before all this, spent in a castle. beatrize was never caged but she was sheltered. her parents' protection meant she saw little of life outside highever, but it was not enough to shield her from the cruel, lashing tongues of those with little regard for her. she did not begrudge them their estimations, only wished they would look away and let her be.

instead, she was thrust into the centerfold; ill-equipped, inexperienced, grieving. resentment curdled in her and ate at her; she was nineteen and burdened by the weight of the blight. had she been any weaker, had duty not been impressed upon her as of utmost importance, under that load, she would have crumbled.

but she did not, and now she's here. playing a game in a darkened room, with a storm approaching from the west, accompanied by someone she deeply cares about. "really?" beatrize asks, raising a dark brow. "even if the world is currently teeming with demons?" there is a wound in the sky tinged green and her quest for the cure is derailed by enemies at every turn. but gale is with her. she is not alone. right now, that is more than enough.

"never have i ever thought i would travel thedas with a necromancer." a very talented one, who, somehow, is capable of keeping beatrize on her toes and giving her endless comfort. despite the volatile hole in the sky, the warden doesn't believe the world is truly ending, but if it is... she doesn't mind spending the last of it here. "your help is invaluable, gale. and your company —" she smiles, sad and earnest. "well, i've come to appreciate it very much."

[viciousgracess]

lyanna with her pale gray eyes and dark hair and fair skin could cut the intimidating figure of a snow maiden, only she's actually quite warm, both to the touch and in how she treats the people around her. she's either frowning or glaring or laughing raucously, she's chasing her brother in the snow calling him stupid in that fond way siblings ( but especially older sisters ) tend to do, throwing a half-formed snowball at his head ( so it doesn't hurt ). you see her on her horse and she rides like the wind and then she smiles at you as she passes by, and sometimes because she spends so much time in the kitchen, she smells like baked bread. and when she's spending time in the glass gardens, she smells like roses, and her hair is wild and windswept and the tip of her nose is a bit red, and she asks you how you're doing, tells you she'll see you around before skipping towards the godswood to have a staring contest with the weirwood tree.

[viciousgracess]

if i stop talking about lyanna stark, best assume that i'm dead.

[bookhousestark]

Promise me, she had cried, in a room that smelled of blood and roses. Promise me, Ned. The fever had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper, but when he gave her his word, the fear had gone out of his sister’s eyes. Ned remembered the way she had smiled then, how tightly her fingers had clutched his as she gave up her hold on life, the rose petals spilling from her palm, dead and black. After that he remembered nothing. They had found him still holding her body, silent with grief. The little crannogman, Howland Reed, had taken her hand from his. Ned could recall none of it.