#The Fleece Inn

[vox-anglosphere]

Tales have been told in the cozy nooks of the Fleece Inn for centuries

#The Fleece Inn #Bretforton #Evesham #Worcestershire #UK #English pubs #cozy nook #fireplace #atmosphere #Tudor

[boombox-fuckboy]

Hey, @t0tally-n0t-3m0, figured this might be easier to read as a post. Here's 24 pods with nonbinary lead characters to get you started. There's more out there, so if anyone wants to add on, go for it.

Additional Postage Required: (Sci-Fi) Adventures of an interstellar courier who starts to get glimpses of the past from their packages.

Anamnesis (on the Tin Can Audio feed): (Mystery, Weird Fiction) Someone wakes in a temple in an empty town with no memory. Short, really nice sound design.

Badlands Cola: (Mystery, Supernatural & Horror elements) big city PI Sunny is hired to find information on a rural cult leader, and is drawn into a world of strange radio, horse enthusiasts, and dinosaur bones.

The Dead Letter Office of Somewhere, Ohio (one of two leads, you'll meet them halfway in): (Supernatural, Weird) Two workers for an Ohio dead letter office read the strange confiscated mail their organisation collects, and do some follow up investigation.

either: (Weird Fiction, Sci-Fi, Romance) An explosion at a duck factory sends a pet robot to another reality, connecting two very different (but both lonely) people.

Hello From The Hallowoods: (Supernatural Horror) A dramatic entity beyond your comprehension visits your nightmares to tell stories of the people (in varying degrees of human and alive) that inhabit the strange, deadly, and beautiful Hallowoods.

Inn Between: (Fantasy, Adventure) Ever wondered what the party gets up to at the tavern between D&D sessions? (Not a tabletop).

Jar of Rebuke: (Supernatural, Horror elements) An unkillable amnesiac scientist (they die, just have a hard time staying dead) investigates weird entities, makes friends, and eats a lot of tasty food in the strange town he lives in.

Khôra Podcast: (Sci-Fi, Adventure) Somewhere between inspired by and adapted from greek mythology, a space adventure following four mythological figures on their search for the golden fleece.

Less is Morgue: (Comedy, Horror elements) A ghoul and a ghost host a podcast about whatever they please in the ghoul's mom's basement, and manage to get off topic anyway.

Light Hearts: (Slice-of-Life, Supernatural elements) Three friends run a lightly haunted queer café. Upbeat and wholesome.

The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality: (Weird Fiction, Supernatural, Horror elements) A friendly AI tour guide leads you on a tour of the Mistholme Museum, explaining the strange and often alternatural story behind each item. (To be clear, the nb lead is an AI with no concept of gender, but the creator is NB also and it is far from the only nb character.)

Monstrous Agonies: (Advice, Supernatural) An interpersonal advice show for supernatural entities and other people living liminally in the modern world.

ROGUEMAKER: (Sci-fi, Whodunnit) A commercial space flight explodes and passengers are left isolated in the escape pods, only connected for minutes at a time and unsure what happened, or why.

Second Star to the Left: (Sci-Fi) Audio logs of a colonist sent to a new world and her communications with the minder in charge of keeping her alive.

Sidequesting: (Fantasy) A wholesome podcast following Rion, an adventurer with a difference: they only do sidequests.

SINKHOLE: (Sci-fi, Weird Fiction) Forum posts from a data restoration community in a near future where the human brain is its own computer and one city hosts a massive void.

Skyjacks: Courier's Call: (Tabletop, Fantasy) Three young postal workers aboard a skyship go on various adventures. Kid-friendly but enjoyable for all ages.

The Starport Inn: (Supernatural, Mystery) An FBI agent sent to a rural town to solve a disappearance finds they've walked into something much stranger.

The Supernatural Protection Agency: (Supernatural) Call logs for a helpline that aims to solve the supernatural problems plaguing your life.

Tell No Tales: (Supernatural, Horror elements) Leo Quinn, secretary to the man in charge of the world's leading ghost removal service, interviews various ghosts in an attempt to create a device capable of actually recording them, in the hopes of taking down the company they work for.

Trial and Error: (Sci-Fi) Interviews with various AI as a scientist attempts to make sense of spontaneous machine sentience.

Under the Electric Stars: (Sci-Fi) A courier's failed heist to help their AI friend/navigator pulls them into a world of crime organisations and unethical science.

The Weird: (Tabletop, Supernatural, Comedy, Horror elements) The two staff members at The Department of the Weird travel America in their shitty Ford Fiesta to investigate various strange happenings

#audio drama #recommendations

[sturniolo-rat]

Too Sweet: Prologue

Matthew Sturniolo X Reader

A/N: I did a poll to see if y’all wanted this but I already had it written so it was a trick question 😌😌😌💕

Contains: literally nothing, no smut no fluff just story

TW: alcohol abuse?, drunk driving, existential dread

Matt is an optimistic do gooder on his way to Redwood University to start his masters degree. He’s far from home but he feels like the world is at his fingertips.

Cricket is a high school drop out going nowhere fast. She’s deeply unhappy with her job as a bartender at a tavern frequented by Dungeons and Dragons larpers.

They can’t help but feel drawn to each other, but is he too sweet for her?

This is what they were doing the morning of the day they met.

Y/N’s Pov

It’s 8 am on a Tuesday. I take a shot of fireball in preparation for my 12 hour shift at The Enchanted Mushroom Tavern and Inn. It is a belief commonly held that taverns and inns only exist in dungeons and dragons. This is false, as all well loved imaginary things come to life with time. That’s a fancy way of saying this place was built for people who LARP and I have to pretend I’m a medieval bar wench.

I squeeze myself into my costume that consists of an off white shirt with puffy off the shoulder sleeves, a mossy green skirt with a tattered and uneven hem, and a brown corset over top that I will note is Elizabethan and not medieval. The woefully inaccurate uniform isn’t the worst part of the job though. While at work my name is no longer Y/N it’s Petronella Epworth the fucking third and I wear the dumbass name tag to prove it.

“Let’s go, Phoebe!” I yell from our living room. I’ve never been a patient woman. Not even when we were kids. We met in kindergarten when she was hesitant going down the big slide at the park and I decided she was taking too long and pushed her. I’m bitch but I’m an insanely efficient, hardworking bitch that gets what she wants.

“Give me a minute!” She’s been working at the Tavern with me for a year and a half, and I’m always 15 minutes early for work. Because we carpool, she is always 15 minutes early for work, which has given her a reputation of reliability that she does not deserve. Phoebe has a few redeeming qualities to make up for her flakiness. When I need her, and she actually shows up, she’s unreasonably nurturing. One time, when I got sick after I dropped out of high school, she played hooky and stayed in my family’s trailer to take care of me. She brought ingredients for homemade soup and blankets. Nice blankets, too, the fleece ones that go on sale around Christmas time. The book she stole from her mother’s collection to read to me was the highlight of my week. It was called “My Alpha Mate.” The main character was an omega, and her love interest was an alpha. I think they were like werewolves or something. It was extremely smutty.

“I’ll just wait in the car, then!” There’s a loud thud as I close the front door. My van is objectively shitty. It’s a 1998 Nissan Quest that I’ve named Ted. I do, however, feel that if you’re 24 and own a van, you ought to be either a mother or a hippie with that cool Volkswagon. My vehicle doesn’t match me at all, but at least he carts around all the shit I own that doesn’t fit in my apartment. While I wait in the driver’s seat, I take a swig from the flask I keep in the car—fireball, of course, always fireball. I take a long look at myself in my rearview mirror and wonder what I’m doing with my life.

Matt’s Pov

It’s 8 am on a Tuesday and the sun is shining down on me through the sunroof of my car. My phone vibrates in my pocket and I already know it’s one of my brothers.

We’re triplets and have never been apart for more than 3 days at a time. When I was getting my bachelors degree they got an apartment two blocks away from my dorm. Chris and Nick never went to college and started a clothing brand called Fresh Love and a chapstick brand called Space Camp. Safe to say my lips are well moisturized. I’m actually wearing gray Fresh Love sweatpants right now. They’re very comfortable and perfect for long drives. I’m embarking on a 10 hour road trip to my new apartment near Redwood University where I will be studying for the next 5 years. My brothers think I’m absolutely insane for moving this far away from home.

“Chris, you know I hate answering the phone while I’m driving.” He does this on purpose to piss me off, but when I get into an accident because he divided my attention, he’s going to be sorry.

“Dude, did you know Red U’s mascot is a booby.”

“Yes, I did.” I most certainly did not know that.

Nick chimes in because, of course, Nick is there too. They’re never far apart. “Okay, but, listen to me when I say this, Matt, it’s a blue-footed booby at Red U.” He puts emphasis on blue and red. “Doesn’t that bother you? It bothers us!”

“Why on earth would that bother me? I’m not going for the sports anyway.” It bothers me a great deal. I can’t believe I have to rep the Redwood blue-footed boobies. This will surely tarnish the Sturniolo family name.

“Shut up!” says Chris. “I know it bothers you, and that’s why you have to turn that car around immediately and come back home.”

“Chrissy, I love you and Nick the most, but I have to go. I’ve got a scholarship and a once-in-a-lifetime internship.” Red U is home to one of the most prestigious research labs in America, and I have an internship there. It’s the whole reason I applied to the university; the scholarship was just an added bonus—the perks of being a straight-A student.

He groans, “I know. We know you’re going to go out and do great things.”

We’re just gonna miss our little Mattmallow,” adds Nick in that weird baby voice people use sometimes. My heart sinks at the use of my childhood nickname.

“I’m gonna miss you guys too.” More than I’ve missed anyone ever.

“Alright, man. I’m gonna leave you alone. I know you hate talking and driving,” Nick says, and I know he’s feeling a little uncomfortable.

“Love you, guys.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

The line goes dead and I know I should feel some sort of sadness but really I just feel loved. I am deeply loved, my future is bright, and I feel like today is an omen.

Masterlist

Taglist

@wurlibydominicfike @yourmumscar69 @69isabella69 @mattsturniolosgf @mrsmiagreer since you guys liked the Too Sweet poll post

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo fanfic #matthew bernard sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo triplets smut #the sturniolos #Spotify

[cupcakegalaxia]

There is alot of really bad theology right now. NAR, Word of Faith and old heresies ( Like reinventing Modalism) are running rampant online that are being perpetuated by so called big-A apostles, prophets and people who claim to perform miracles.

If anyone, and I mean ANYONE, who claims to be an Apostle (specifically of Jesus Christ -- There are only 12.) or a prophet and teaches things that not only are not in the Bible but ask for a 'seed offering' or any kind of monetary gain or deviate from what has been written, they are to be called out as wolves and false teachers. They commit spiritual abuse against people who want to be free from pain and sin by exploiting them, selling them a false bags of goods and keeps telling them to come back again and again to get their 'deliverance from the demon of anxiety.'

These are the 'demon slayer' group, the guys who think that born again Christians can be possessed by demons. Are you flipping kidding me?! Can a demon be in the same vessel of the Holy Spirit who is God? Any well read Christian would know that according to Scripture, its utterly bogus.

Then when they have been taken advantaged of for so long and get out, some remain Christian by the grace of God and fall into the footsteps of true Christianity but most will remain in the hands of wolves. Being fleeced, lulled by what they want to hear, thinking that perhaps being a spiritual person is better then being a biblical person.

The doctrine we have in Scripture rightly tells us about God's Character, Promises, and our salvation outside of our experiences and emotions. Emotions and experiences are different and change, they are secondary to the Scriptures.

But what these NAR--New Apostolic Reformation--folks do is they twist doctrine in that God is now calling new Apostles and prophets to rule the Church. They lull people into their prophetic words and sayings, telling people what they want to hear. Using experience and emotion to get people hooked into their teachings.

I've seen a couple of people on here who post such teachers and this I tell you; run. Run far away from those wolves, they will only bring you to spiritual death and destruction. You posting those teachers can actively stumble others who were brought out of this movements.

Its doctrine like this that strays people away from a full filled Christian life, binding them and presenting a false version of Christianity to the world. Its doctrine like this that will produce rotten fruit.

Now I am not saying that miracles are not for today but it solely depends on God's will, not ourselves. We don't get to decide what gift God gives us and certainly if God has given these gifts, He would give them to whoever He so well pleases.

Find yourself a biblical church, committed to expository preaching. Ask God to get you to a biblical church with a equally biblical pastor. Look at resources like Ligonier Ministry (R.C Sproul) , Crossway, Pirate Christian Radio, The Messed Up Church, White Horse Inn and Founders Ministry.

If you are coming out of the NAR, I highly recommend Pirate Christian Radio (Fighting for the Faith on Youtube) and The Messed Up Church. I would highly recommend Dawn Hill , she came out of the NAR and has since repented of the things she had done in that movement. Lovely lady.

I implore you, and anyone else who is finding themselves falling into these churches. I pray that those wolves repent and turn.

#christianity #new apostolic reformation #nar #christian life #christian #christian living #christian doctrine #biblical scripture #absolute buffoonery in some of these NAR churches #Im dead serious #look at Church by the Glades or Chuck Pierce's church #madhouses

[the-queen-and-the-king]

What happens in Alaska...

Summary: S05E21. The inn where the team has to spend the night is small and the profilers has to double up. Emily and Aaron found themselves in the same bedroom.

Characters: Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss

Contents: full smut, oral sex (f and m receiving). Basically, that's everything you needed to know about what's happened in that bedroom in Alaska and why suddenly Hotch called Prentiss, Emily NSFW/MINORS DNI

PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.

___

Aaron had just time to close the door behind him before Emily's lips came to rest on his. He said nothing, didn't push her away, on the contrary. He accepted this unexpected offensive, prolonged her kiss, and wrapped his arms around her torso, his hands gradually moving down until they found the edge of her sweater and an opening to slip underneath. For her part, the female profiler, enjoying the feel of her lover's fingers exploring the folds of her T-shirt, stroked his back, furrowing the hollow of his loins before setting off to assault his buttocks.

“You should wear those pants more often,” she asserted as he left her lips for the angle of her chin.

“Am I to understand that you liked the view?” he bounced between two kisses on her neck.

“More than ever,” she admitted, a smile reaching her ears.

It had to be said that this was the first time she'd seen him in anything other than a suit and tie for work. She'd seen him naked, in boxer shorts, jogging suits and T-shirt, and jeans and a polo shirt, on the weekends they'd spent together; but the sweater, trellis and ranger boots outfit was a first. And yes, she had been pleasantly surprised to find that this type of clothes highlighted his butt. Much more so than his usual attire, which, while classy and sexy, totally concealed the anatomy of its wearer.

                Anatomy Emily had been dying to see ever since they'd got off the seaplane. And she thanked every imaginable deity for the fact that there weren't enough single rooms in the inn, and that the other pairs had formed without them having to do anything. Penelope had jumped on Derek; JJ, touched by Spencer's distress at his rejection, had taken him under her wing; and Dave had played the birthright card to get his peace of mind. Aaron, who was calculating what time it was in Virginia to see if he could call Jack, was oblivious. All the planets had aligned at once, and she intended to make the most of it. 

                She led her partner to the bed, where she soon found herself sitting on the sheets, her sweater pulled up under her armpits. The BAU director had knelt on the carpet that covered the floorboards and, while kissing her wherever her skin was accessible, slipped his hands under her layers of clothing to reveal even more. Emily made his task easier by removing her fleece. His lips caught hers in thanks, then he tipped her onto the mattress. She didn't struggle, too happy to see him as hungry as she was. He rolled her top up over her chest and kissed her breasts, his mouth landing as much on her dermis as on the lace of her bra. Excited, she undulated her pelvis until it pressed against his. The relief she felt fanned the fire in her lower belly.

                He continued his attentions casually, kissing her navel and then her abdomen. He stopped at her belt, running straight to the laces of her military boots, which he untied at just the right speed, neither too fast nor too slow. With her shoes in a corner of the room, he returned to her belt, which he unbuckled in a jiffy. Slowly, he pulled on her pants, bringing them to her ankles to remove them. And he climbed back up, resting his lips at regular intervals on her legs. Emily clung to the blanket, her eyes closed, her breathing shuddering. She restrained herself from ordering him to speed up because she knew he'd get there soon. As if to confirm it, he kissed her crotch through her panties. A sigh escaped her.

                A groan followed as her undies flew in the same direction as her pants and Aaron's tongue titillated her clit. From their first night together, he'd been able to get her to heaven without needing to penetrate her, and she felt he was only getting better. This time was no exception, as she soon found her fingers tangled in his thick hair, her pelvis pushing in harmony with her lover's lingual convolutions. He never neglected any of her erogenous zones, sucking her bud, grazing her ridges, lapping up her nectar tirelessly. She didn't know how thick the walls were, so she came mutedly, huffing, murmuring, whimpering until she reached that phase where the only words forming in her throat were:

“Aaron. Aaron. Aaron!”

She arched her spine as the orgasm assailed her and her body vibrated in unison with the waves of pleasure pulsing through her torso. Then she fell back and exhaled for a long time. Once her breathing and heart rate had returned to a decent level, she leaned on her elbows. Her partner was standing against the chest of drawers, wearing that self-satisfied thuggish look that probably only she knew. He sipped quietly from a bottle of water while she recovered from her emotions, savoring this new achievement.

                Stung in her pride, Emily counterattacked, determined to make him surrender in turn. She sat on the edge of the bed and silently ordered him to come closer. He placed the bottle on the cabinet and obeyed. He bent to kiss her, but she pressed her palm against his face to push him away. He stiffened, puzzled, before understanding. She then undid his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and let gravity do the rest. From what she could glimpse behind the folds of his boxers, he was almost back to his normal state. A minor disappointment, but one she knew how to remedy. She pulled down his underwear.  

“Emily…”

She interrupted him with a knowing glance. She knew he wasn't very comfortable with this practice, but quickly forgot his fears and doubts as soon as she took action. And she began with a few caresses in a moderate tempo. He hardened immediately, his shaft rising visibly as her hand moved up and down the delicate, warm skin. Then, without letting go, her tongue took over from her fingers and ran along the curve of his sex until it reached the tip, which she engulfed in her mouth. He got even harder, and she heard his breathing change. She began her controlled back-and-forth movements and felt him tense up, tightened up, breathing with difficulty. He restrained himself from accompanying her sucking with thrusts that could hurt her. He repressed his desire to grab her hair and to press on her head. But now he was as hard as steel, his legs trembling and his breath rasping.

“Emi… ly…”

She smiled inwardly: he was done for. Her tongue grazed his burning, swollen spear one last time, and he gave up. Overcome by spasms of ecstasy, he emitted several noisy sighs, and then naturally stepped aside to regain the support of the dresser. Emily observed the fruit of her efforts with a victorious smile. He caught sight of her and shook his head, despondent. He grabbed the water bottle and tossed it to her.

“I hate it when you do that,” he grumbled, still out of breath.

She swallowed several gulps then, without taking her eyes off him, added:

“Liar.”

___

We all know that this is canon. XD

#hotchniss #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #emily prentiss #criminal minds fanfiction #hotchniss fanfiction #smut #dirty mondays

[mxmollusca]

fic first lines

post the first line from the last 10 fics you posted (and are there any patterns?) - I got tagged by both @epersonae and @scarrletmoon

I don't have 10 fics for OFMD because I am a slow-af writer, so hopefully my measly 7 will suffice.

An Arm and a Leg

(My first fic for this fandom, building my brand early with some good ol' fashioned magical realism with tentacles.)

Stede Bonnet felt decidedly unwell.

In Favor With Their Stars

(The story opens with a series of computer screens showing the computer processes of a spaceship computer, who also happens to be one of the main characters.)

BONNET INDUSTRIES - DEEP EUROPA MISSION

Interplanetary Transport Ship/REVENGE

Shipboard AI SYNTHETIC TRANSPORT ENTITY/DEEP EUROPA (STE/DE)

(Prose)

“Good morning, Edward.”

There's a Monster at the End of This Book

(surprise Vianton!)

Anton sat on the red velvet sofa, jogger-clad knees pressed together, a temporary resting place for nervous fingers that drummed impatiently.

The Sticking Place

(Sequel to An Arm and a Leg, starting with some journal entries.)

Personal Diary of Stede Bonnet

June 10th, 1718

It’s been three days since the onset of my new affliction, and I am pleasantly surprised to find the crew relatively unfazed by the news! 

The Ship of Theseus

(An audio/visual multimedia project written by me, with sound support and editing from @nordarknessdimsthesky and @emi--rose. The entirety of this piece is written from the computer's POV.)

>>2063-02-06 01:35:41

>>STE/DE CMD

     INITIATE VIRTUAL MACHINE

     SELECT BOOT IMAGE

     INITIATE BOOT FROM IMAGE

     OPTIMIZE KERNEL

     SELECT WAYBACK MACHINE WEB 2.0 CLONE

     RENDER INSTANCE

     INSTANCE RENDERED

Wave Hello to the Void

(This story was cowritten with @zacharybosch and has art from @eefaevie. There is a lot of multimedia in this story, and it opens with a news article, followed by a video transcript, followed by prose.)

(News clipping)

Green Bank Register - 10/03/2023

Mothman sets fire to dumpster

By LUCIUS SPRIGGS

GREEN BANK, WV - Today marks one week since the first sighting of a large, unidentified winged creature in the Green Bank area.

(YouTube Transcript)

The Beltsville Goatman: A Monsterlover's Exclusive - 09/28/2023

STEDE BONNET, a blonde man in his mid-40s, stands in front of a huge, white RV with the words “MONSTERLOVERS” emblazoned across the side parked in front of a large, empty field.

(Prose)

Stede Bonnet bounds down the steps of his Entegra RV, cellphone in hand, his fuzzy teal Monsterlovers-branded fleece fully zipped in defense of the October morning chill.

Works for Spiders

(This story is written from the POV of the surly house spider who lives in Stede and Ed's "inn".)

She is roused by distant vibrations, a rhythmic thumping reverberating through floorboards and beams and into the strands of her web to tickle against the fine black hairs lining her long legs.

---

Patterns? Perhaps I am allergic to consistency. I tend to be motivated by the novel. I'm here to fuck around and find out. I like to experiment with form and presentation. All I can promise is that it's only going to get weirder from here.

@oatmilktruther @petrichorca @veeagainsttheday @emi--rose @ghostalservice whatchu got

#tag game #fanfiction #ofmd fanfic #vianton fanfic #my fanfic

[the-pen-pot]

It Only Takes A Spark

Summary: Arthur sees something he shouldn't have, and realises everything he is missing. (Also on AO3)

------

Arthur stepped out of the door or the Rising Sun, leaving the easy laughter and revelry of the other patrons behind him.

Once, his trips to the tavern had been few and far between. Gwaine had changed all that. For all that he was a long-haired irritant in Arthur's life, he had to admit that the man was observant. He had taken one look at them – the Crown Prince and his chosen knights – and decided they needed a place where they could bond. Somewhere away from the castle and Uther's disapproving gaze.

The knights were not the only ones who had claimed the private room above the inn’s main bar as their refuge. Normally, Merlin would be with them, not as a servant but as a friend, fleecing them at dice and brightening the room with his irreverent jibes and that wicked smile.

Tonight, however, he'd made his excuses: something about collecting night-blooming herbs for Gaius. Arthur would deny until his dying breath that Merlin's absence was his reason for cutting out after only two pints of mead, but his knights did not care about his reasons. Instead, they had given him those same patient, disbelieving looks – the kind that bordered on treason and implied he was an idiot.

At least they didn't say it out loud, unlike some people.

Now, the warm evening air closed around Arthur like a velvet glove as he made his way back towards the castle. This close to midsummer, the sky did not truly darken until late, and a soft dusk collected in Camelot's streets, chased off by the braziers lit at street corners.

His father would have insisted a guard accompany him, but Arthur was not concerned for his safety. He was armed, and no more than a touch relaxed from his drinks. If anyone made an attempt on his life, they'd be run through before they had a chance to do more than lunge for him.

Still, he would not be so foolish as to completely let down his guard. It was second nature to be watchful as he left the Lower Town and entered the nicer area closer to the castle. Here the air was perfumed with the heady scent of the delicate roses that rambled over the walls of the merchant's houses, and the streets carried with them a fragile sort of peace.

It was romantic enough, Arthur supposed, hiding a smile as he noticed two shadowy figures sharing passionate kisses against the alley wall by the Horse and Hare, the inn favoured by the wealthier of Camelot's traders.

They were oblivious to him, lost in each other's caresses. Normally, he would have ignored them, diverting his eyes and carrying on towards the castle. That was his intention, right up until the one against the wall tipped back his head with a groan, his face slipping from shadow to light as his lover turned their attentions to the column of his throat.

Merlin.

Arthur had no real memory of drawing himself into the pools of gloom that lined the street, ducking into the mouth of a narrow, cobble-lined path between two houses. Darkness covered him in its mantle, and he braced his hand against the wall, his breathing unnaturally loud in his ears as his heart pounded out a fretful, ragged beat. 

A surge of something raced through his body, striking a confusion of sparks as it went. Pain fluttered in his belly even as heat traced its lines down his thighs. Sweat itched between his shoulder-blades. He was struck by a desperate need to move, not away, but forward: quick, angry strides. He wanted to drag the blond stranger – not some sweet young maid, but someone broad-shouldered and strong – away, to snarl and snap until he left and stopped touching...

He swallowed hard, feeling like his skin was too tight, prickling and sharp. He did not know what to do with himself. Escape would be the best option. He should flee back to the castle and put this from his mind, but he was locked in place, helpless to do anything but stare.

He had never seen Merlin like that: his lashes painting dark fans on his cheeks and his lips flushed with kisses. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the flex of his forearms as he gripped his lover's hip, holding him close.

The stranger leaning into Merlin's space shifted, angling his head and doing something to Merlin's neck – biting maybe. The noise that escaped Merlin's lips ghosted over the still night air, rough and needy, igniting Arthur's body like a lightning strike. His laces felt tight over the hardness of his swelling cock, and he pressed against it with the heel of his palm, stifling a sound as his hips gave a helpless little grind.

This wasn't who he was, hiding in the dark and watching. He did not want to be a voyeur. It was Merlin who held Arthur here, enchanted, torn between captivation and the bitter surge of jealousy.

He tried to excuse it in his head, remembering that it was a long time since he had lain with anyone. Needs had a way of creeping up on a man, only to pounce, but that was a gossamer lie at best. This, his reaction, was less about what two men were doing together in the shadows and far more about the fact that one of them was Merlin.

Gods.

Merlin was a grown man, attractive, despite the ears. It was simply that Arthur had never allowed himself to imagine him like that: flushed with passion, warm and willing. Every time his mind had started to stray in that direction, he had reined it in.

Now, to have not just vague imaginings hastily stifled, but the actual image of Merlin right in front of him – still clothed, still decent – but wrecked all the same, had smashed apart all of Arthur's carefully constructed boundaries like a siege engine.

How was he meant to look at Merlin and not see this? How was he supposed to meet that sparkling blue gaze and not imagine himself in that stranger's place, crowding Merlin against a wall and wringing those tight noises from his lips?

A flicker of movement tore him from his thoughts, and he watched as the stranger eased himself back, holding out a hand in invitation. They didn't utter a word – they didn't need to. It was a communication of darkened eyes and flushed cheeks – a bid to find somewhere private to finish what they had started.

Arthur told himself he didn't care what Merlin did. It meant nothing to him when those long-fingers – surprisingly deft over Arthur's armour and sword for someone so clumsy – slid into the other man's palm. A moment later, he pulled Merlin away, no doubt intent on finding somewhere more comfortable to pursue their pleasure to its summit.

Arthur let out a ragged breath, sagging back against the wall of his hiding place. The weathered bricks bore his weight as he gritted his teeth, painfully hard and dizzy with want. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he closed his eyes, trying to will the heat that surged through his frame to ebb. It was a losing battle, but one he fought all the same, forcing his body back under his control.

So much for "gathering herbs", he thought, a fresh surge of unflattering jealousy blazing through his chest. Was that what Merlin had really been doing, on those occasions he had ducked out of spending time with his friends? Had he claimed he was doing chores for Gaius, when really he was losing himself in the touch of another?

Arthur grimaced, opening his eyes to stare up at the narrow strip of night sky above his head, where the stars were starting to glimmer. How Merlin spent his free time was none of his concern, yet he could not help the bitter churn of his emotions: a thin veneer of anger over a stupid, helpless sort of hurt. Morgana always said he was bad at sharing anything he thought of as his. He had just never consciously placed Merlin in that category.

At least until now.

'Ridiculous.'

Pushing himself away from the wall, he winced, adjusting the front of his breeches before checking the coast was clear and stepping back out onto the street. It did not matter what he had seen or what he had felt. The sparks of dazzling awareness that skittered over his skin would fade. The high, eager hum of want, not just for anyone, but for Merlin's in particular, would dim. Arthur's world, so rudely tilted on its axis, would set itself to rights once more.

He would awaken tomorrow to Merlin's obnoxious cheerfulness, and he would think nothing of tonight and all that he had witnessed. It would be forgotten, and everything would return to normal. He was resolved. Merlin was his manservant and, Arthur could grudgingly admit, his friend, but that was where it ended. Merlin's love would always belong in the hands of another. He could never be Arthur's, not like that.

Not now, and not ever.

#Merlin #Merthur #My Fanfic

[regnantlight]

sleep meme

type of bed.

Pre-game: goose-feather Queen sized bed

Post-game: chicken-feather and straw twin sized bed

number of blankets.

Pre-game & Post-game: Just one, typically! She likes to have a medium weight blanket but will also sleep with a thin quilt. In the colder months, she’ll layer a thick and thin blanket together. She typically will cocoon herself in the blanket by the end of the night (which means she will absolutely steal the covers in her sleep if she happens to be sharing)

number of pillows.

Pre-game: 4. She uses two to sleep on, one between her knees (she gets lower back pain from long hours at her desk) and will either cuddle the fourth or place it behind her back.

Post-game: 1 (sometimes 2)

type of clothing.

Pre-game: Silk robes (fleece in the winter with wool socks)

Post-game: Cotton robes (layered with a shirt and long socks in the winter)

does it matter where they sleep ?

Not if she’s tired enough, but otherwise she would find it difficult to fall asleep in an open space unless she was with someone trusted and capable of protecting her. When away from home, she sleeps best in an inn or on a traveling cot in a tent.

what do they do if they cannot fall asleep ?

She’ll have a warm drink (tea or milk with honey) and read or work on her notes until her eyes begin to sting.

frequent dreams, nightmares.

Pre-game: Zelda frequently has stress dreams that manifest as nightmares, though the details of them often elude her.

Post-game: She has frequent dreams of the Century War, though oddly, not all of them are nightmares. In some of them, they are more like variations of what she wishes could have been, in which everyone lived and the Century War never happened at all.

deep slumber or naps ?

Deep sleep.

when do they sleep ?

It depends on how involved she is in her work, but she readies herself for bed at about 9-10 PM on an average night. When she falls asleep is another story.

what could wake them up ?

Sudden loud noises, speaking, or touches jolt her awake.

tagged by. @dullweapons (Thank you!)

tagging. @zoragrace @mielmoto @valorborn @thuganomxcs @lunaferrous @dichotomouskey @valorxdrive @litoredeem @reigningsniper @cryptidsncurios (Xig and K)

#character musing

[shadowmonkstone]

Mate, you’re going to be so fucking proud of me…or pissed off…maybe both? I’m going to go with both.

You’ll be fucking proud because I fleeced the shit out of the Zhentarim, and probably pissed off because I fleeced the shit out of the Zhentarim. Don’t worry, they’ll never work out it was one of us, and if they do just tell them I was under the influence of a Mind Flayer or something.

Which, to be fair, I might be, I don’t fucking know. I don’t feel like I am, and if I was wouldn’t the same Mind Flayer be commanding us all to get along?

Ok, Wyll and Astarion are getting along a little too well so maybe we’ve got a horny Mind Flayer controlling us.

Doesn’t fucking matter.

What matters is we bullshitted our way into a Zhentarim hideout they’d set up below that Flaming Fist outpost (which may actually have been an inn - Waukeen’s Rest, look it up if you’re inclined) and spoke to their leader. Who, it turns out, was the one who wanted the sealed chest we’d picked up after fighting the gnolls. She gave us a tasty fucking crossbow for our troubles.

But, the fuckers had captured and enslaved an artist to paint for them before selling his work for a profit. He gave me some sob story about choosing between marrying for money or marrying for love and while I’m sure it a story to be told on the theatre boards in Neverwinter, I explained to the bugger that I didn’t give a flying fuck about how he got there. What I cared about was the fact he was a slave, and that’s just fucking wrong.

So with a little bit of chat and a fuck of a lot of coin, I bought his freedom.

And after all that I set about skulking around the place and robbing the bastards blind.

Got a few nice trinkets, some scran for the camp and… they only had some more infernal iron!

That’s why I’m walking as I record this. I’m heading straight back to Dammon with Kay and the iron to see if he can fix her heart.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 act 1 #bg3 rp #bg3 tav #lae'zel #astarion #wyll ravengard #karlach

[vox-anglosphere]

Where better to spend a foggy night than inside a cozy English Inn?

#The Fleece Inn #Haworth #West Yorkshire #English villages #The Pennines #Brontë sisters #foggy night #old English inns

[cityandking]

round 2 🥰 care, mentor, companions, & first for minah, lira and winry!

thanks babe xo // oc asks: relationships edition

Care: How does your OC engage in self-care, if at all? If they don't, why not?

MINAH — I don't think she does a lot of self care. not for any negative reason, she just doesn't think about it a lot. she'd enjoy a hot bath and a night at a nice inn, but she doesn't like to indulge in (what she considers) frivolities without a reason. like, why spend gold for lodgings when you've got the warden keep right there, for free? there were probably some "spa nights" with the troupe, but she'd never be the one to spearhead that operation—she just doesn't think about self care often.

LIRA — physically, she's good at taking care of herself. emotionally, she sucks. she understand the importance of keeping herself in good condition in order to be able to keep pushing, but she's kind of swung too far into the "keep pushing" side of things and is so single-minded in achieving her goals that everything else—including her mental and emotional well being—has completely fallen to the wayside

WINRY — she's the most in touch with herself of these three and absolutely makes time to check in with herself and give herself opportunities to relax and recover and recenter. she can be a liiiiitle indulgent about it, but hey, she hasn't seen the outside world in ten years. she's allowed

Mentor: Does your OC have a mentor? Have they ever reached out to anyone for guidance or teaching, or been taken under someone's wing? How does your OC get along with their mentor?

MINAH — she's had a few teachers during her time with the Orchestra (they taught her most of her crafts, thieving and theatrical both), but number one is Alesso, the troupe leader. he took her under his wing and made sure she had what she needed: a place to sleep, food, work to keep her busy, training, opportunities to perform, marks to fleece. they get along great—he's one of the only people in the world that she trusts, and she really does regret not being able to meet up in Marnus Pell as promised. the Orchestra also had a classically-trained aerialist with them for a bit who taught minah everything she could soak up. he left eventually, but she still considers him one of her best teachers

LIRA — her dad. she's had other teachers and trainers and tutors, but her father was always her greatest mentor and the most important person in her life. more than anything she wishes he were still here so she could go to him for advice the way she did when she was younger. they were thick as thieves and she misses him more than she knows how to feel.

WINRY — she had a rotation of teachers and seniors at the Circle, but there wasn't anyone specific she went to for guidance. I think she was really looking forward to having Duncan—she definitely got along with him really well during their travels to Ostagar—but that just made it worse when he died. she's kind of always been a bit on her own, but she's a tough cookie. she's never felt like she's lacking.

Companions: Is your OC part of an adventuring group? A band of travelers? A guild, a team, a crew? What's the group dynamic, and how does your OC feel about their companions?

MINAH — warden squad 5eva ✌️to be honest I'm not sure how I'd categorize the group dynamic right now. I guess at this point they're kind of coworkers? a team? minah trusts them in a perfunctory way—she knows they'll have her back in a Warden Situation—but none of that trust is personal. honestly it hasn't sunk in that she's like, stuck here. these are the people she's gonna be with until she dies, probably, but she's kind of expecting to deal with all this Tevinter shit and then get back on the road and leave them behind. for now, she doesn't mind traveling with the group. she likes them well enough, and she'd like to see them, y'know, succeed and get their various revenges and whatnot. she'd call them friends if she were speaking of them to someone else—yes, even riya.

LIRA — lira's feelings about the origins crew are mixed, but she's well aware that she'd be dead if it weren't for them, so at least there's that. mostly she's happy to use whatever tool at her disposal to achieve her goal, including the people traveling with her—and they grow on her, despite her best efforts to hold herself back. that said, she can't fucking stand wynne's lectures about what it means to be a warden—as if lira isn't living that reality every day, giving up everything in pursuit of duty

WINRY — winry loves the origins crew. she hasn't had many friends in her life and she's having a GREAT time traveling with other people her age (ish). she's also got a humongous crush on Leliana and they're very cute and giggly about it. she's happy to have friends! and also save the world, she guesses

First: Has your OC ever been the one to leave first? Why did they go, and who did they leave behind? Do they regret it?

MINAH — yes; she was afraid; someone who needed her; yes

LIRA — she very much disappeared after the end of the fifth blight. granted it was to do warden things, and she left a forwarding address, but she slipped away without proper goodbyes to almost everyone. it was the first she'd been alone in a year, and the first she hadn't had multiple swords dangling over her head, and she just needed to get out. mostly she regrets leaving alistair alone with the throne—she was definitely running away from that conversation—but they've worked it out since then. took them a decade, but they got there (also, she learned her lesson—when she left to find a cure for the taint, she made sure to say a proper goodbye first)

WINRY — she's not the kind of person to slip away or break things off without a proper farewell. life in the circle taught her to cherish people and not take them for granted, and she's carried that forward with her over the years. there are definitely a few people she's had to leave—friends she made in her travels and the like—but she tries not to let anyone slip out of her life, or vice versa. she's got a big heart and there's plenty of space for everyone inside it. if anything, she tends to hold on longer than she should

#sorry this took so long I got really hung up on the warden squad question lsdkfjs #minah #lira #winry #memery

[scotianostra]

King of the castle by INNES Via Flickr: I trundled out to Newton (of Ardtoe) anticipating a colourful sunset. I had just spotted a sea eagle when I noticed this sheep looking down at me. Sea eagle, Sheep?....sheep, sea eagle? It was an easy choice! Sheep! Caught in the last of the evening light and looking rather magnificent up on a rocky outcrop, with his scruffy fleece blowing in the ..............and golden earrrings

#sheep #newton of ardtoe #scotland #highlands

[summersnow82]

Her Name

Fanfiction _ Xena: Warrior Princess

Fictober 2022/ Prompt #1: “I chose you.”

TW: Mentions of canon character death.

Author's note: I always liked the Meg/Joxer dynamic, even though I shipped him and Gabrielle hard. I feel like Meg was kind of an afterthought in the later series, and I would've liked to see or hear more about their relationship. Hope you enjoy!

....................

Meg was secure about a lot of things: her beauty, her cooking, and her ability to survive. She was not, and had never been, secure in Joxer’s love for her, though. She knew he cared for her, but she’d seen him cast too many glances longingly in Gabrielle’s direction. Even now, ten years after she and Xena had disappeared, he still called for her in his sleep.

It broke her heart every single time.

Still, when a good man asks you to marry him you don’t turn him down. Especially if you love him. Meg might not be the brightest dinar in the box, but she certainly wasn’t the dullest, either.

She loved Joxer well, too. She encouraged him, lavished attention on him, and listened to him when he spoke. Really listened. He was the first man she ever felt truly safe around; the only man where sex or money wasn’t an ulterior motive.

The sex was good, though. Pretty damn good.

So when he sidled up to her at the end of the night she should’ve been responsive. She wanted to be, but she just couldn’t. Ten years, two babies and another on the way, a horse he protected like it was the Golden Fleece itself, and an inn dedicated to his two best friends. She’d given him everything, indulged all of it, and he still called out for Gabrielle in his sleep.

She couldn’t have stopped the tears if she’d wanted to.

“Hey, hey,” he said softly, taking her by the shoulders and gently turning her to face him. “Megmeg, what’s wrong?” He was genuinely concerned – his wife spat curses, threw pots, pans, and fists, but rarely did she ever cry.

Meg shook her head, trying to turn so he couldn’t see her shameful display, but he held her fast, gently lifting her chin up to look at her. “If someone hurt you - ,” he began, deep lines of concern etched in his face.

“You married me, but you still want her!” Meg’s cry surprised them both, and Joxer blinked, wide-eyed.

“What?”

“Gabrielle. You call out for her in your sleep all the time. You loved her then, and you love her now. I know that. I know you settled for me because she was gone, and I’ve accepted it, but it still hurts like Hades.” She’d pulled away from him successfully now, turning her back so he couldn’t see the mess of tears and snot she was unsuccessfully wiping away. She bet Xena never had snot bubbles when she cried – she probably looked like a goddess when she did that, too.

“I do love Gabrielle,” he said softly. “And Xena. And I always will, but not like you think, Megera.”

Her full name. He only pulled that out when he was really serious. He approached her quietly, reaching over her shoulder to hand her a handkerchief. He knew about the snot bubbles, and they didn’t bother him in the least.

“I love you, Meg. I chose you, and I would’ve chosen you even if Xena and Gabrielle were still here.” Meg blew her nose loudly, and Joxer let out a small laugh. “I don’t call out for Gabrielle because I love her; I call out for her because I couldn’t save her.”

Meg turned around, her red and puffy face showing just how confused she was by his words. “What?”

Joxer took a deep breath, turning his eyes to the ground. “Xena can take care of herself – she always could, but Gabrielle? I watched her die so many times, Meg. I tried to protect her when she was hurt or weakened, and I failed every single time. Xena was always there to bring her back, to help her up, and me?” He shrugged. “I dunno what I expected, but I wanted to succeed. I didn’t think that would be the last chance I got.” He looked up, eyes wet with tears. “And they’ll never know how hard I tried to keep them safe, how much I loved them.”

Meg felt a new knot form in her throat. Her sweet warrior wannabe husband blamed himself for something he’d had no role in, but still felt responsible for. Still, she had to ask before she lost the courage. “You really love me? Love me love me?”

Joxer chuckled through his tears. “Yes, Meg. I love you love you. More than anyone else, past, present, and future.” He gently cupped her face, giving her a lopsided grin she adored so much. “I chose you, and I choose you every day for the rest of our life together.”

She grinned, wiping her nose once more with his handkerchief. “Well,” she said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye he knew all too well. “Why didn’t ya say so sooner?”

#fictober22 #fictober #fictober event #xena: warrior princess #joxer the mighty #ted raimi #joxer x meg #joxer x gabrielle #ao3 fanfic #fan fiction #fanfic #fanfiction.net #xena fanfic #one shot #hurt/comfort

[collectingsparechangemadeeasy1]

Pokes u

So, for the SM! AU

U know I gotta ask abt my fellas, Emerald and Mercury uwu

(Also I’m curious as to what Cinder’s role in the story is if you’ve figured that out yet 👀)

SO! You wanna know about the terrible trio huh? Well ask and ye shall receive my dear!

But this is going to get long so I'll put it under the cut!

Emerald and Mercury's back stories aren't too different from canon. Emerald still grew up a thief on the streets, Mercury still lived with his abusive father and lost both his legs.

But in this AU they met each other before meeting Cinder. Mercury was fresh off killing his father in the house fire, and was half dead in the forest. Emerald found him and decided not to leave him for dead.

She stole a wheelbarrow from a random house and put him in it. Then she brought him to her hide out. Slowly, over the course of a few weeks, she helped nurse him back to health. His legs were no good, and would probably have to be amputated.

Eventually they decided to ditch their current abode and go on the run. They went from town to town, Mercury acting like a poor beggar child so Emerald could fleece people. It worked well for a year or two. But one day someone caught their act and decided to attack.

Emerald and Mercury were badly hurt and barely escaped with their lives. But they collapsed on the street leading out of town. Luckily, that's where Qrow found them.

He took them back to the farm, Oz and him healed their wounds and nursed them back to health. Oz got Mercury the amputations he needed and paid for the best prosthetics money could buy. The kids refused to just be handed stuff, so once they were well enough they got to work on the farm.

They prefer to live with Qrow in his shack, though once they move in he does some renovations and turns it into a cozy cabin for them all. The rest is really history. They decided to stay on the farm and live with Qrow. They're like siblings to Oscar, and don't let anyone mess with him.

~

As for Cinder? She's actually Emerald and Mercury's age in this au, so younger than in canon. Her back story is the same, an orphan sold to servitude to an awful woman who ran a very prestigious inn in Atlas.

One day a traveling mercenary came through, Rhodes. He was a kind man. Not nice. But kind. He liked the inn and stayed there often. Cinder thought he was amazing!

The same meeting happens. She takes his sword, and he catches her.

But unlike canon, they have a conversation. She tells him about her life, he tells her about his. And he gives her an offer. He'll leave this place and take her with him, if she agrees to be trained to fight by him. She'd have to obey his every command, never question him. A "I say jump you say how high" type deal.

She's been following orders all her life, but if it means she gets out of this place, and can take off the collar the Madam put on her...

They left that night and never looked back. Except to watch the fire Cinder had started on her way out.

They traveled together for years, training, fighting, taking jobs. They became a strange little family. It isn't perfect, but they're happy. :)

#Small Moments au #Small Moments info #Small Moments lore #emerald sustrai #mercury black #cinder fall #qrow branwen #mentions of child abuse #mentions of human trafficking #answered asks #friends asks

[byneddiedingo]

Rainer Werner Fassbinder and Peter Chatel in Fox and His Friends (Rainer Werner Fassbinder, 1975) Cast Rainer Werner Fassbinder, Peter Chatel, Karlheinz Böhm, Harry Baer, Christiane Maybach, Adrian Hoven, Ulla Jacobsson. Screenplay: Rainer Werner Fassbinder, Christian Hohoff. Cinematography: Michael Ballhaus. Production design: Kurt Raab. Music: Peer Raben. I have a feeling that Fox and His Friends seems much less exotic or sensational to viewers today than it did in the mid-1970s, given the steady movement of depictions of gay men into mainstream entertainment. At the time it created outrage, not just from defenders of the heterosexual norm but also from the gay community, which found much of it distorted and unflattering. But Rainer Werner Fassbinder's story is not about being gay, it's about being exploited, about mistaking predation for love. Fassbinder's Franz Biberkopf, known as "Fox" from his gig as "Fox the Talking Head" in a sleazy carnival act, is a classic naïf who is taken for all he's worth -- which is the 500,000 Deutschmarks (a bit under $125,000 in the day) he won in the lottery. Fassbinder the director doesn't make it clear that the well-dressed guys Franz meets after one of them, Max (Karlheinz Böhm), picks him up outside a public lavatory, are intentionally trying to fleece him, until Eugen (Peter Chael), whose father's printing business is in financial trouble, sees a way to persuade Franz to rescue the company with a sizable investment and promises of part ownership of the firm. It could be, of course, that Eugen just gets a kick out of sleeping with the working class Franz. But he throws over his current lover, Philip (Harry Baer), and takes the rough-hewn, slightly homely Franz into his home and bed. Is Eugen telling the truth when he tells Franz that he's being kicked out of his apartment for being gay? It would be entirely plausible in the place and time. Or is it a lie that gives Eugen an opportunity to persuade Franz to buy a posh new apartment, and to furnish it with opulent antiques from Max's shop? And to go along with Franz's new image as a haute bourgeois businessman, he of course needs new clothes from Philip's fashionable shop. None of this exploitation feels premeditated except in hindsight, as Franz becomes Eliza Doolittle to Eugen's Henry Higgins -- though with less overt success. The resulting film is a superb tragicomedy, one of Fassbinder's best films, I think. Fassbinder turns out to be as good an actor as he is a writer and director, giving Franz just the right blend of naïveté and street smarts. I think the ending of the film is a shade heavy-handed, but the rest of it is full of extraordinary satiric moments: The horrifying scene in which Eugen brings Franz to dinner with his parents. The vacation in Morocco, where the man* Eugen and Franz pick up on the streets is refused entrance to the Holiday Inn Marrakech -- though wouldn't a pretentious bourgeois like Eugen have chosen a tonier hotel? -- because it doesn't admit Arabs. (The employee refusing the entrance, himself an Arab, suggests that if they want boys, he could provide some from the hotel staff.) And the moment of truth in which Franz realizes he's been conned is shattering. Michael Ballhaus's vivid color cinematography is complemented by Kurt Raab's production design, especially in the garishly overdressed apartment which includes a chandelier hanging so low that guests have to walk around it, that Eugen puts together with the most expensive pieces from Max's antique shop. Only after Eugen and Franz break up does Eugen reveal that he hates the place: He has clearly condescended to what he thinks an uncouth working class guy would think is the height of fashion. *Played by El Hedi ben Salem, the star of Ali: Fear Eats the Soul (1974), who had been deported to Morocco after a bar fight in Germany. Brigitte Mira, ben Salem's co-star in that film, also has a cameo as the shopkeeper who originally denies Franz admittance to her store to validate his lottery ticket until the suave Max flatters her into it.

#Fox and His Friends #Rainer Werner Fassbinder #Peter Chatel

[der-slowakei-blog]

Nationalpark der Träume

18.08.22

Unsere Nacht verläuft etwas kühl. Schnapsidee des Urlaubs kommt von mir. "Bei den sommerlichen Temperaturen können wir den Schlafsack zu Hause lassen und ein Leintuch mitnehemen - spart Gewicht." Ich habe die Rechnung nicht mit den luftigen Höhen gemacht, auf denen wir teilweise nächtigen. Da ist es gleich ein paar Grad kälter. Naja, irgendwie geht's dann doch. Mieke schichtet nämlich, bis sich die Balken biegen: T-Shirt, Schlafanzug, Funktionsshirt, Fleece, Regenjacke und mein absolutes Highlight, die ausgebreitete Hängematte drüber. 1A!

Unsere Fahrt heute ist traumhaft. Wir fahren durch den Nationalpark an Flüssen und Nadelwäldern vorbei. Um uns herum summen Bienen. Die Straßen sind größtenteils asphaltiert. Autos begegnen uns aber so gut wie keine. Auf diese Weise erschließen wir ein Tal nach dem anderen und erfreuen uns an der Landschaft.

Nach der ersten Kekspause hören wir eine Folge drei ???, das klappt super mit unserem Doppellautsprechersystem, auf das ich immer noch etwas stolz bin. Im Grunde sind es nur zwei gekoppelte Bluetooth Lautsprecher, die an unseren Lenkern befestigt sind. Trotzdem erfreue ich mich jedes Mal an der Funktion.

Bei Kilometer 40 geht es über einen Pass. Die Straßen nach oben sind sehr unterschiedlich. Teilweise müssen wir schieben. Teilweise fahren wir auf feinstem Asphalt ohne jegliches Auto. So oder so, die Aussicht auf dem höchsten Punkt (knapp 1000m) ist herrlich. Wir halten inne und gedenken der vergossenen Schweißtropfen. Oben gibt's auch die Kaffeepause. Der Kaffee schmeckt doppelt gut, wenn man weiß, dass es gleich ins Tal geht. Vorher müssen wir uns aber noch einmal eincremen. Das zweite Mal an diesem Tag. Für mich der unwürdigste Moment eines Radlertages. Warum? Durch das erstee Mal eincremen erschafft man eine klebrige Oberfläche, auf der der Staub der Straße besonders gut haften bleibt. Beim zweiten Eincremen vermisch man dann die bereits vorhandene Staubschicht mit dem gesammelten Schweiß und der neuen Ladung Sonnencreme. Prost!

Die Abfahrt ist dafür aber wie im Bilderbuch. Aalglatte Straßen, herrliche Natur, kaum Autos. Das Rezept für einen glücklichen Radler. Gegen 17 Uhr kommen wir in einem schön gelegenen Dorf an, welches von den Bergen umschlossen ist. Ein Bach schlängelt sich hindurch und windet sich um die bescheidene Kirche. Wir kommen bei einem sehr netten Ehepaar unter, das uns überfreundlich beherbergt. Wir dürfen duschen, bekommen einen Kaffee und einen hauseigenen Minztee gereicht. Das ist Urlaub. Zu später Stunde gehen wir noch in die Dorfkneipe, trinken ein Bier und planen den nächsten Tag. Auf dem Rückweg zum Zelt begegnen wir mitten im Dorf noch einem Reh mit einem Kitz. Irgendwie ein magischer Ort. Der bisher schönste Tag unserer Tour. Heute hat viel zusammengepasst.

Tageserkenntnisse:

1. Es scheint wohl zum guten Ton zu gehören, als slowakischer LKW Fahrer während der Fahrt zu telefonieren.

2. Ein plätschernder Fluss zu deiner rechten beruhigt das Gemüt.

3. Wolken kühlen am Tag und wärmen in der Nacht - genial!