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#and a cellar-cellar-cellar which is a cave
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said this before and i dont think it’s all that significant but i do think it’s a little significant that a good portion of s11 and s12 takes place in dark underground places or tunnels or cave-like things
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fruitytrollroll · 6 months
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scratching the walls, running laps, I actually barked out of excitement. ( RUFF, BARK, BARK, RUFF, RUFF, GRRR, GIMME MORE )
Okay okay, one more but that's it, I don't want to spoil anyone's appetite. 😏
u get a pickle cellar excerpt
🥒🪲✨
Prismo leads Scarab to a dim, greenlit cellar, where the air is cool and pleasantly damp. Enormous barrels line the walls, above which are equidistant embedded shelves, packed with orderly lines of gleaming, sealed jars. The faint scent of brine drifts on the air, like Prismo has brought him to a brackish tide cave.
When Scarab had begun his inspection in earnest, he had observed the trash and sundry littered about the Time Room with disdain, and had automatically sneered when he began to imagine how the rest of the Cube might look. But he hadn't expected this.
"Haven't been down here in a while," Prismo idly volunteers, which may go a ways to explaining that discrepancy.
"Is that why it's so much cleaner?" Scarab dryly inquires. He sees no reason to hide his censure.
Prismo smiles sheepishly. "I was about to clean right before you showed up! That's why I closed the doors. Wouldn't wanna sweep any 'shorts' into the bin by accident." He laughs unconvincingly.
The reminder of Prismo's strange verbal slip earlier only serves to convince Scarab of the necessity of this inspection.
"Go on, then," Scarab invites with a gesture of eloquence. "Regale me with your process."
For the first time since Scarab arrived, Prismo actually looks somewhat enthused--though it's a far cry from his usual energy. He must be incredibly hungover.
"Okay, so the cool thing about pickling is that it's totally shelf-stable..."
--
"... And the longer you wait to eat them, the better they taste!"
Scarab hums, lifting one of the jars and examining it under the acidic lights. "I was under the impression that time didn't move forward, as such, in the Time Room."
"Right?" Prismo gushes. "Just a little trick I figured out."
"Do tell," Scarab says, interested despite himself. As frivolous a pastime as this is for the guardian of the entire multiverse's continuity and continued stability, Scarab is aware that sometimes turning one's powers to unexpected purpose can yield discoveries which lend one greater control of over those powers, and greater flexibility in their use. Perhaps that is the appeal of having a hobby, he muses.
And if he is to one day be Wishmaster, then hearing Prismo opine on the nature of his powers will ensure Scarab is adequately prepared to do the job more justice than Prismo ever did.
"As Wishmaster," Prismo ostentatiously begins, "I basically have control over every dimension in the Time Room. Like, I may just be a two-dimensional being, but I can still move the walls, and any inanimate three-dimensional objects in this space."
Or me, Scarab thinks with a thread of unease--though fortunately Prismo can only hold him, not move him.
... As far as he knows.
"Making time pass in the Time Room is as easy as moving a wall, once you figure out how to manipulate the fourth dimension!"
"It's that simple, is it?"
"Well," Prismo says modestly. "It took me a while to get the hang of it. But hey! Who can argue with these results?" He gestures proudly at his crop of jars. "You wanna try some? You seem like a 'hot and spicy' kinda guy to me."
"Hm," says Scarab. Against his better judgment, he's considering it.
Then Prismo heaves a sigh, rather disproportionate to Scarab's answer, in his opinion. The god-auditor turns to look at the Wishmaster askance, and finds him staring at the floor, looking positively downtrodden. Surely he's not that invested in Scarab trying out his pickles?
Scarab almost opens his mouth to ask what in the world is the matter with the Wishmaster, but before he can, Prismo mutters dejectedly, "That's the last time I make an unauthorized universe."
Scarab goes very still.
"... An unauthorized universe?" he softly says.
Prismo's eye widens, and he looks guiltily at his god-auditor guest.
"Ah... crap."
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tastesoftamriel · 5 months
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I hate hot food. For many reasons. I know a lot of Argonian meals are served cool/cold, but do the other races have meals intended to be the same way?
While not particularly common in some Provinces, chilled dishes can be found across Tamriel and are the perfect refreshment when hot food feels a little too weighty.
Altmer
Probably the Tamrielic masters of cold dishes, the High Elves are probably best known for their cold raw seafood dishes. Fresh fish, prawns, squid, octopus, sea urchin, and much more are sliced with a deft hand and served with wasabi and saltrice sauce. Sometimes, the seafood is placed atop rice and wrapped with a thin slice of nori to hold it together. While the idea of eating cold raw fish may not appeal to many, it's one of my favourite foods in Tamriel.
Argonians
Keeping clay or metal vessels submerged in water is an age-old Argonian technique of keeping their food cool, which is an absolute must in the hot and muggy climate of Black Marsh. Cold swamp jelly and seafood salad topped with grilled prawns and chilled marinated snails is a customary dish offered to visitors, and it's delightfully refreshing! The swamp jelly doesn't taste of much, but its soft, jelly-like texture complements the crunch of the seaweed.
Bosmer
Cold food isn't much of a thing for the Wood Elves, but one exception jumps to mind: the humble cottage cheese dip. Cottage cheese made from timber mammoth milk is aged in caves for two days, seasoned, and kept chilled. The dip is served cold with dried cured meats to dip with. It's not terribly exciting, but there's nothing quite as satisfying as eating meat and cheese in one bite!
Bretons
Chilled soufflés are all the rage in High Rock, and require lots of patience (and swearing) to master. Both sweet and savoury soufflés are served in this manner, from orange liqueur to parmesan and rosemary. My personal favourite is the chilled chili chocolate soufflé from the Rosy Lion in Daggerfall, part of their seasonal menu. The combination of rich dark cocoa with a touch of Alik'r spices is out of Nirn!
Dunmer
Chilled foods aren't an integral part of Dunmeri gastronomic culture, but certain Houses, namely the Telvanni, Hlaalu, and Redorans, do enjoy them. A Telvanni specialty is a cold chicken salad, where the chicken is marinated overnight in a blend of matcha, fire fern, saltrice sauce, and secret spices. It grilled and shredded, and served cold with hackle-lo leaves and gold kanet seeds atop steamed saltrice. However, don't let appearances fool you; any Telvanni with cold chicken salad leftovers can probably be found gobbling it at midnight straight from the cold cellar.
Imperials
The Gold Coast is famous for its chilled seafood soup, made with a creamy tomato and fish stock base, and loaded with all manner of fish and shellfish. While the hot variant from Bruma is more popular in colder climes, the cold seafood soup is a delightfully refreshing meal when beating the summer heat, especially when served with a mojito on the side.
Khajiit
If there's an excuse to make a food cold, the Khajiit will find it, and for good reason: the Deadlands-like heat of Elsweyr. Cold vegetable curries are a notable mention. Three or four small bowls of different curries, from mild okra to spicy potato, are served with moon sugar, saffron rice or tandoor flatbreads, and are meant to be eaten with your hands. I must say, though, that there's a rather jarring contrast between the cold curry and the searing heat you get from biting into a bird's eye chili.
Nords
Unlike the Khajiit, Nords look for any excuse to make food hot, with a couple of exceptions. Cold smoked salmon, mudcrab, or trout with dark rye bread is one of them. This rustic lunch dish is served with chilled horseradish cream, goat cheese, and fish roe topping, and is the perfect meal for when you want something filling that won't send you straight to sleep.
Orcs
Glass noodle salad is an Orcish delicacy said to have originated in Wrothgar in the early Second Era. The noodles, made from sweet potato starch, are thick and chewy, and are served chilled. To turn it into a salad, simply throw in some cold shredded daikon radish and carrots, sweet frost mirriam vinegar, peas, cold rare beef tongue slices, and fried chorizo. Easy and delicious, while packing lots of flavour!
Redguards
Cold foods are a welcome treat in Hammerfell, where the searing heat can be just as unbearable as Elsweyr's. Cold, pulled goat in a chilled tomato and harissa-based stew is eaten as a soup, and is a filling meal when mixed with bulgur or cous-cous. While it may sound and look a little like last night's disappointing leftovers, one bite of this on a Midyear day in the Alik'r will have you moaning with delight.
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tiodolma · 6 months
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Fear is strange soil. Mainly it grows obedience like corn, which grows in rows and makes weeding easy... but sometimes it grows the potatoes of defiance, which flourish underground.
The citadel had a lot of underground. There were the pits and tunnels of the quisition. There were cellars and sewers, forgotten rooms, dead ends, spaces behind ancient walls, even natural caves in the bedrock itself.
-Terry Pratchett, Small Gods
...........
This book has the most raw and striking metaphor and smoothest transition to the layout of the city istg. Amazing.
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terrytheinsane · 5 months
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Arachnophobia: A bedrock edition mod
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Hunstman spiders are active predators which spawn the same areas as wolf spiders (vanilla spiders) at a slightly less common rate. They behave mostly the same as wolf spiders, but are much faster and vary in size, larger huntsman spiders are more common in warmer climates.
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Cellar spiders (also known as daddy longlegs) are common cave dwellers that solemn move unless disturbed. Upon spawning they will seek out or build a web and lie perfectly still until another mob touches it. Their venom isn't lethal, but beware that they can easily trap you in silk if you don't pay attention to where you're going.
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The vinegaroon is a strange arachnid resembling a cross between a spider and a scorpion, they spawn in swamps and jungles in the dark. Vinegaroons are not venomous, but instead have the ability to spray acid projectiles from their abdomen. Real life vinegaroon acid is akin to vinegar (hence their name), but arachnophobia's vinegaroon sprays hydrochloric acid instead, and it can destroy some blocks.
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Jumping spiders are commonly found in densely wooded biomes and are typically docile to players. Though they have very little health, they hit hard for their size and are quite agile, they also specialize in hunting other spiders and deal twice as much damage to arachnids. Jumping spiders can be tamed by giving them spider eyes, they can sit on your head and will immediately pounce on any threat. Like frogs, jumping spiders have three variants based on the climate they spawn in.
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Whip spiders are cave dwelling arachnids which are not venomous, but they hit hard and they are absurdly fast. Whip spiders are highly aggressive and cannibalistic towards their own kind, but only sometime attack players unprovoked, every once in a while one will run up and punch you, launching you tens of blocks away. If a hostile mob is nearby, the whip spider will wave its "antennae", and will wave them more intensely if a particularly dangerous mob is near, just remember that the mob only has to be a potential threat to the whip spider, so it'll warn you if there's something less dangerous to players such as an iron golem.
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The harvestman (also called the daddy longlegs, a title it shares with the cellar spider) is a harmless omnivore arachnid that spawns in roofed forests and redwoods. Harvestmen can be mounted if you feed them a poisonous potato, and controlled with a special item. If a predatory arachnid is nearby, the harvestman will panic and flee, becoming incredibly fast when mounted.
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Neith is a powerful boss which can be summoned using a special eye rarely dropped by spiders, and alternates between melee, ranged and AOE attacks, and has the ability to control spiders. If you defeat Neith, she will reward you with a special armor which can be infused with the shed exoskeleton of an arachnid to gain their abilities, receiving both a buff and debuff (e.g. jumping spider armor allows you to jump super far, but it also makes you tiny).
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The tarantula is a huge spider that sometimes spawns in caves above y coordinate 45 and cannot be controlled by neith, as she considers them to be heathens. Tarantulas are territorial and solemn go far from their home, and prefer to hunt at night. They will attack any other mob and will defend their territory fiercely from other tarantulas, once it's day they retreat to their caves, their aggro radius is halved and they will warn you before attacking.
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One of serveral non-arachnids in the mod, moths are flying insects which commonly spawn at night in most overworld biomes and have a variety of biome specific variants, are frequently preyed upon by arachnids, especially web spiders such as the daddy longlegs. Moths are harmless although some variants are poisonous (they inflict debuffs if you hit them, but don't actually fight back), and will start to slowly die if they exist in the world for too long. Moths will often fly towards länterns, and will follow you if you hold one, they also have a rare chance to drop their wings which can be equipped.
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The wolf spider is literally just the vanilla minecraft spider, but remodeled. It's behavior has not been altered in any way.
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Like the wolf spider, the redback spider is the vanilla cave spider but redesigned.
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Emperor scorpions can be found in tropical biomes at night. They are not very fast, but are large and powerful and can use their shield-like pincers to deflect attacks.
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Deathstalkers are scorpions that spawn in arid biomes at night, especially in deserts. They are much smaller and weaker than emperors, but possess deadly venom.
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A massive semi-aquatic arachnid, the thunder scorpion is a force to be reckoned with. Thunder scorpions do not spawn naturally, and instead are found in a similar way to the sniffer, since like the sniffer it is also an extinct prehistoric species.
Thunder scorpions can be raised and will be docile towards whoever raises them, but to anything and anyone else they can become aggressive, they start out very small and grow very slowly, but over a long time will continue to grow and become an eventually unstoppable killing machine. The modern day atmosphere is much different from that of the thunder scorpion's original time period, meaning that fully grown thunder scorpions slowly grow weaker until they inevitably die.
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frvnkcastles · 11 months
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SICK AND TIRED ➸ F. CASTLE
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Summary: After being taken by Frank’s enemies, you struggle to adjust to the new normal.
Warnings: ATTEMPTED S**CIDE, ov*rdose, PTSD, mentions of the trauma, nightmares, panic attack, hurt/comfort, feminine nicknames. PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION.
Word count: 2.7k
Author’s note: If the warnings trigger you, I urge you to sit this one out!! You don’t deserve to feel any worse. That said, if you’re like me and need a Frank this week, he’s rooting for you and holding your hand through whatever it is you’re dealing with right now. I can’t promise it’ll get any better soon, but I do know you’ve made it through all your bad days thus far. Sometimes taking it day by day is too difficult and you gotta take it hour by hour or minute by minute, and that’s perfectly fine too. Much love <3
(Also, I combined a few requests for this.)
The cool water trickling out of the showerhead above you made you hiss and grit your teeth together, but despite the angry expression, full tears trailed along the edges of your nose. The droplets singed your skin as they ran across the colorful bruises and shallow cuts littering your limbs, and you couldn’t stop from pulling equally empty breaths while bringing your shaky hands up to your body to wash away the grime and blood painting you in ugly hues.
Frank was seated on the toilet, eyes glued to you and his face contorted in a hurt frown which only mixed with the pure rage soaring through his system. He knew he had already made everyone responsible pay — in fact, he had gone above and beyond, disfigured each of their faces and made sure they had felt his pain before taking their last breath. Still, it didn’t feel like enough. If he had had the power to bring them back to life only to take it away again, he would have. He would have done anything for you.
That was why he had offered to help you wash up, too, hovering over you after carrying you home. You could tell he was hesitant to touch you, needing the closeness but not wanting to hurt you any further. You had insisted you needed the control of doing something for yourself, so you had gotten in the shower by yourself, but with your permission, Frank had sat down on the toilet to just be with you, whatever you wanted that to mean.
He couldn’t fight the bitter tears, either, his heart caving in on itself as he watched you cry and tremble in an attempt to clean yourself from what they had done to you. It could have been much worse, he knew that, but seeing just a single bruise on your skin made him sick to his stomach and sent him into a spiral of guilt and anger.
When you were done, Frank was up in a blink of an eye to grab your towel and help you wrap yourself in the soft material. You winced at the contact, but when Frank tried to pull back, you reached for his hand in a desperate squeeze.
”Don’t leave me”, you pleaded, sounding weaker than you had expected, and it did everything to convince Frank to inch in closer.
”I gotchu, sweetheart. I ain’t goin’ anywhere, I swear”, he whispered, leaning down to kiss your forehead, holding your hand in his.
And he stood by that. Stood by you. When you spent the upcoming night sobbing in bed, he soothed and shushed you, rubbing circles on your back while simply holding you and allowing you to get it all out. You didn’t feel safe outside of his arms, and he had no problem keeping you in a warm embrace for as long as you wanted him to, his tight grip reminding you he was there and you were home.
It quickly dawned on the two of you that while you were no longer being tortured in a dark cellar, taunted by your captors that Frank would never find you, the worst was not over yet.
On the third night back home, you had your first nightmare, and Frank found himself talking you out of a panic attack at four in the morning. It wasn’t your first time dealing with it, but it was the worst you had had in a while, leaving you paralyzed and breathless on the bathroom floor where he held your face in his hands and tried to remind you how to keep the air flowing through you.
The nightmares became a habit, then, and when they did, Frank began to suspect you were dealing with the same thing he was.
”Hey, ’m here”, his gruff voice pushed through the fog in your mind, making it hard to realize you weren’t tied up God knows where — you were home, in bed, with the man who you loved and who loved you. ”Sweetheart, you’re with me, yeah? Feel that? ’M all real”, he continued, gently reaching for your hand so he could place it on his bare chest. You were both sitting up, tangled in the sheets that felt all too hot and consuming, suffocating you slowly but surely. Frank noticed, drawing the covers away from you and placing his free hand on your thigh.
”I got you, hey, hey, shh… You’re okay, baby. It ain’t real, I promise. Just your head playin’ tricks on you, sweet girl”, he went on, and nodding to confirm his words, you clung onto his neck and tried to slow your breathing.
”I was… they—they were trying to…”, you stammered, not even sure how to put the horrifying nightmare into words, but he understood. He always understood.
”I know, sweetheart, I know. But they ain’t gon’ hurt you again. ’Member? I made sure of that”, he reminded, and managing another nod, you licked your lips and rested your head against his chest.
”Frank, I’m so tired”, you cried out, your eyes weary but your mind unwilling to go to sleep, and knowing exactly the feeling, he sighed and wrapped an arm around your shaking body.
”Wish I could take ’em away from you. Y’know I would”, he whispered, trying to keep his voice soft even if he was furious that the assholes that did this to you had gotten off so easy. Death could be merciful, at times, and he suspected you were beginning to realize that after two weeks of no sleep.
Clearing his throat, he tilted his head down to look at you. ”How ’bout we head to the diner and get you somethin’ to eat? Yeah? Get your mind off of it?” he suggested, and with a drowsy smile, you thanked him.
There was no doubt you quickly became regulars of the diner around the corner.
If only your pain had been limited to the nightmares. Instead, every time Frank reached to touch you, you flinched. Every time there was a sudden sound in or outside of the apartment you were now huddled up in, you jumped. Whenever there was actually a need to go outside, you avoided it as best as you could, only agreeing to leave if Frank was by your side the whole time. It became harder and harder to trust anyone except him, and even harder to keep your mind off of what happened. It was like your whole worldview had been tilted on its axis and you felt like you were slowly losing your mind.
It wasn’t like it was all bad. Some days you laughed, some days Frank treated you extra special, and he never faltered from his place of support and love for you. He was patient, even more than you had expected him to be. But the matter of the reality was, you no longer had good days. Or if you did, then the bar for having one was much lower than everyone else’s. To you, a good day was managing to get out of bed and not throw in the towel. A good day was only a few flashbacks, only a few nightmares, only a few intrusive memories.
And eventually, you figured it was becoming too much. You were becoming too much.
”Hey, can I… can I talk to you about something?” you asked quietly, approaching Frank on the couch where he was seated with a bottle of beer and a football game on TV. As soon as the words had left your mouth, though, his focus was all on you, the volume of the television turned down and the bottle placed on the coffee table.
”’Course, baby. C’mere”, he gestured at the free space next to him, and with an awkward fiddle of your hands, you moved to sit there with your body angled towards him.
”I just… I thought I should, uh, give you an out. You know, you didn’t… you didn’t sign up for this. And I feel like a burden—you don’t have to tell me I’m not. I know I am. I’m not the same woman I used to be and you may have been in love with her but if you’re not in love with… whoever I am now, that’s okay”, you explained, choking up but rushing to wipe away the tears. The last thing you wanted was for Frank to stay with you out of pity.
He stared at you for a while, silent and clearly surprised by what you had come to him with. But when he finally seemed to process what you had actually said, he chuckled quietly and shook his head.
”Darlin’…”, he mumbled, a sad look in his eyes as he looked up at you. ”Fuckin’ kills me you think that way ’bout yourself. Hey, I goddamn adore you. I always have and I always will. I ain’t gonna walk away just because things got a little tough. Hell, I’ve made shit tough this whole time. And if anything, it’s my fault—”, Frank started, but you cut him off before he could blame himself any further.
”It’s not your fault. It’s not. It’s those… assholes that we should blame. I don’t blame you, Frank, I swear”, you insisted, and he nodded in a quick response.
”I know you don’t. But I still do. If it wasn’t for me, none of that shit woulda happened”, he emphasized, licking his lips before exhaling and reaching for your hand. ”You mean everythin’ to me, baby. Ain’t nothin’ gon’ change that, I swear.”
You wanted so badly to cling onto those words. You tried your best, you really did. But then on one night that he was spending on a stakeout, you were left alone with the dark pit of your thoughts and you began spinning out. You didn’t want to cause him pain, but what if that was exactly what you were doing? What if you being alive was more painful? What if going away would be a relief for him?
Before you knew it, you were clamoring through the piles and piles of medications you had been given in the past months, and with only a second’s hesitation, you made your decision. You took as many of them as you could bear, one pill after the other, until you physically couldn’t anymore. You lost count but eventually your throat began resisting and your head started to sway. Only then you curled up in bed by yourself, eyes welling up with tears as you begged for a release from all the pain inside you.
As you drifted off, Frank came home earlier than you had anticipated. He called out to you while dropping his bag of ammunition by the front door, only to be met with silence. A frown etched onto his face, but figuring it was already late, he quietly and carefully weaved through the furniture and into the bedroom where he found you, a smile springing to his lips.
”Sweetheart”, he whispered, kneeling next to you, his fingertips delicately moving your hair away from your face. ”Hey, darlin’. ’M home”, he continued, breaking into a concerned look when there was no reaction. Not even a stir, not even a huff.
Then he realized your skin was going cold and clammy. You looked… unwell, to say the least. Swallowing thickly, he felt your throat only for a barely-there pulse to throb against his fingers, and with a panicked exhale, Frank ran his hand through his hair.
”Shit. No, no, no, fuck!” he hissed, bolting up just enough to rush to the bathroom and find the pill bottles in the sink. He made it back to your side, cradling your face in both hands. ”Sweetheart, please. Please, I need you. Come on, girl”, he begged, his heart racing as he supported your head with shaky hands. You were limp and he felt a wave of nausea surge through his stomach as he began gathering you in his arms.
”Stay with me, please. Don’t go”, he pleaded, standing up with your body in his arms, making his way through the front door and to his truck with quick strides. He placed you on the passenger seat and buckled you in before running to his side of the car and starting the engine.
He thanked whatever superior power had cleared all the streets for him — it was quite late, but either way, he was glad he didn’t need to wait in traffic. Instead, he drove erratically, swerving from one street to another with no regard to the traffic rules; he needed to get to the hospital now.
All concern for his very public and very wanted face flew out the window. He carried your lifeless body through the doors, shouting for help, feeling like he might throw up and collapse onto the floor from pure grief any second. He couldn’t do this. Not again.
It was all a blur after a nurse came with a gurney and you were wheeled away. He was sobbing at that point, not even aware enough to fight the other nurse that came to guide him away from the doors. Next thing he knew, he was sitting in a bleak room, eyes tired and puffy, his ears focused on the steady beep of the monitor you were hooked into. They had given him a long explanation of what they had done to help you, but all he could hear was that she’s still alive. Not a goddamn thing other than that mattered to him.
He was still shaky, watching your unconscious body on the pristine sheets, your soft figure wrapped up in a pale hospital gown. He hadn’t dared to touch you, only sat by your side for hours, the moonlight shining through the window and the quiet chatter of the hospital keeping him company.
It was his fucking fault. He knew that. He believed that. And he couldn’t live with himself, didn’t know how to sit still with that sickening feeling that he was the reason you were lying here. He was the reason you wanted to end your life.
When you came to, it took you a moment to realize where you were. But once the sounds and smells of a hospital registered in your head and you saw the monitor next to you, you broke into a desperate cry. Frank had nearly nodded off, but he jolted awake at your weak sob.
”No, no, no…”, you pleaded, cradling your head in your hands, ”I don’t want to be here.”
Your words took a piece of Frank’s broken heart and shoved it through his chest. He had never heard you so defeated, so utterly broken. You sounded so disappointed.
”Baby”, he whispered, reaching for your hand with his bigger one. ”Baby, I’m here”, he continued, fragile and quiet.
As soon as you looked over to him and saw him still by your side, still refusing to let go, you just… broke. The tears escaped you in ugly hiccups and you lifted one trembling hand to your mouth as you wept.
”I’m here, okay, sweetheart?” he gathered some of his voice back to reassure you. ”I’m here. And I’m not fuckin’ leavin’ until you tell me to. I’m never gonna leave you, I promise, sweet girl, I promise”, he rambled, peppering the back of your hand with kisses.
He cried too, climbing up to kiss the top of your head and hug you as gently as he could, his face buried in the crook of your neck. ”I love you. I love you, I fuckin’ love you. Please stay with me, sweetheart”, he begged. ”I’m so sorry.”
"I just wanted to set us both free”, you whispered, and squeezing his eyes shut, Frank held you close to him.
”I’ll say it as many times as you need me to, baby. I want to be with you. I want you. I need you”, he insisted, leaving another kiss on your forehead. His arms supported you against his firm chest and you clung onto him for dear life, comforted by his warmth.
Seven days later, you were officially diagnosed with PTSD. And Frank? He held your hand through it from beginning to end, not once wavering. He told you about his own diagnosis, his own nightmares, flashbacks, the whole deal. He did his everything to reassure you that you weren’t alone. As long as he had a breath in him, you weren’t going to be.
And you promised to try your very best to believe him.
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Vardzia, a Medieval Cave City in Georgia (South Caucasus), built in 1150-1200 CE: Vardzia was designed to be used as a fortress/monastery; it was accessible only through hidden passageways, and it contained more than 6,000 caves, 15 chapels, 25 wine cellars, an apothecary, a forge, a bakery, farming terraces, and an irrigation system
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The monastic caves at Vardzia cover an area of about 500 meters. They are carved into the cliffs along the Erusheti mountains, which are located in Javakheti (a southern province near the borders between Georgia, Turkey, and Armenia).
Vardzia was originally meant to serve as a fortress, particularly in the event of a Mongol Invasion. It was protected by defensive walls, and the cave system itself was largely concealed within the mountain (though much of it is now exposed); it also contained a secret escape tunnel and several dead-end tunnels that were designed to delay/confuse enemy forces. The cave city could only be accessed through a series of hidden passageways that began near the banks of the Mtkvari River (which runs through the valley below the cave complex). Water was supplied through an irrigation system that was connected to the river, providing the inhabitants with both drinking water and agricultural irrigation, as the site contained its own terraced farmland.
The cave complex also functioned as a monastery, with a large collection of manuscripts and relics ultimately being housed at the site.
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In its prime, the complex at Vardzia was inhabited by tens of thousands of residents.
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Unfortunately, most of the original structures at Vardzia were destroyed by an earthquake that struck the region in 1283 CE, just a century after its construction; the earthquake sheared away the outer layer of the cliffside, exposed many of the caves, and demolished almost two-thirds of the site. The surviving structures represent only a fraction of the cave complex that once existed at Vardzia, with only about 500 caves still intact.
When the earthquake tore through the site in 1283, much of the fortress and many of its defenses were also destroyed, and Vardzia lost most of its military/defensive purposes. Still, it continued to operate as a Georgian Orthodox monastery for several hundred years after that. It narrowly escaped the Mongol Invasions of the 1290s, but it was raided by the Persians during the 16th century; the invading forces burned many of the manuscripts, relics, and other items that were stored within the cave system, leaving permanent scorch marks along the walls of the inner chambers. The site was abandoned shortly thereafter.
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Medieval portrait of Queen/King Tamar: this portrait is one of the Medieval frescoes that still decorate the inner chambers of Vardzia; Tamar was the first queen regnant to rule over Georgia, meaning that she possessed the same power/authority as a king and, as a result, some Medieval sources even refer to her as "King Tamar"
Vardzia is often associated with the reign of Queen Tamar the Great, who ruled over the Kingdom of Georgia from 1184 to 1213 CE, during a particularly successful period that is often known as the "Golden Age" of Georgian history. Queen Tamar was also recognized as the Georgian King, with Medieval sources often referring to her as King Tamar. She possessed the powers of a sovereign leader/queen regnant, and was the first female monarch to be given that title in Georgia.
The initial phases of construction at Vardzia began under the command of King George III, but most of the complex was later built at the behest of his daughter, Queen Tamar, who owned several dedicated rooms at Vardzia and frequently visited the cave city. Due to her relationship with the cave complex at Vardzia, Queen Tamar is sometimes also referred to as the "Mountain Queen."
Despite the damage that the site has sustained throughout its history, many of the caves, tunnels, frescoes, and other structures have survived. The site currently functions as a monastery once more, with Georgian monks living in various chambers throughout the cave system.
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I visited Vardzia back in 2011, during my first trip to Georgia. It's an incredible site, though some of the tunnels are very narrow, very dark, and very steep, which can get a bit claustrophobic.
Sources & More Info:
Atlas Obscura: Vardzia Cave Monastery
CNN: Exploring Vardzia, Georgia's Mysterious Rock-Hewed Cave City
Lonely Planet: Vardzia
Globonaut: 5 Facts about Vardzia, Georgia's Hidden Cave City
Wander Lush: Vardzia Cave Monastery (complete visitor's guide)
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dawndelion-winery · 11 months
Text
Yellow Roses
Hanging out with them (platonic)
Ft. Scaramouche, Kaveh, Venti
For @i23kazu 1.5k event!! It's super slay go check it out!
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Scaramouche:
Sometimes you forget he isn't actually your older brother
But hey! Who can fault you for that?
He's quick to anger and argumentative, often deadpanning at you and flicking your forehead
But that's really the worst of his wrath towards you
And even that's negligible with how obviously he worries for you
Scara is someone who's known betrayal after betrayal coming from the people closest to him
He's never had a sibling he could bond with, the closest being the Raiden Shogun, who really behaved like anything but family
So it's no surprise he's reluctant to look up to others, but that doesn't mean you're the same as he is
You're free to idolise him all you want! He promises he'll take care of you, and your trust will never be betrayed
"Watch it!" Scara yells as he catches the back of your shirt before you go tumbling off the edge of a cliff. "Geez, idiot. You'd get yourself killed if I weren't here!"
Don't let his anger fool you. As you sheepishly apologise you add that you could only be that careless because you knew he'd have your back. You think he's about to scold you again, but instead, he looks sheepish himself.
"Yeah. I do. So don't even think about being so reckless unless I'm around, got it?"
Kaveh:
It's not hanging out with Kaveh if he doesn't complain about his roommate
But it's also not a hangout with Kaveh without the rule "you gotta kiss your homies goodnight and shi"
Being in his innermost circle means having an obligation to let him drench all your favourite shirts in his tears as the most mundane of things send him hurtling into despair
You think you can prepare for it?
Wrong. They're so infrequent that you'll almost forget he does it and then you'll say you brush your teeth a certain way which reminds him of his mom teaching him to brush his teeth and he's sobbing into your chest
Bro can't catch a break
Likewise you're free to torment him with your wails as well
You kind of have to or he'll feel bad about it so...just bully him about his hair or something trivial so he feels less burdened to be overly considerate of you
"Kaveh? You seem pretty down."
"I'm not. I'm fine."
"About as fine as your thinning hairline, sure."
You hear an offended gasp as he whips around with an accusatory finger jabbing at you. "You take that back!" He demands, immediately flaring up in defence, getting all huffy like a peacock preening itself as he digs into you in retaliation.
He does feel a little better after lashing out, and tends to lay on your shoulder as he finally caves and tells you what's been bothering him.
Venti:
You feel like he knows everything about you
And he probably does
He knows all your tells for all your emotions you may try to hide, and while he does respect your space, there's times he does everything he can to get under your skin because he knows bottling it up isn't healthy
He enjoys writing songs with you!
Doesn't matter if you're neither linguistically nor musically inclined, he insists on getting your input
Very attuned to your emotions and great at matching your energy
You're down to clown? Count him in! He's a few dastardly schemes he wouldn't mind letting you in on *wink wink*
Feeling down? That's just fine too, lay on his shoulder and tell him about it! He's more than willing to listen
Or even if you'd just like to sit in silence with him
"Wanna hear a tune, my friend?" He says with a mischievous grin.
You nod, curious to see what he'd drafted up. Except it's a ballad about raiding a rich tycoon's wine cellar. In great detail. He's obviously trying to hint at something.
"Venti, Master Diluc is going to slaughter us."
"Only if we get caught!" He insists, with a knavish giggle. And inevitably, you find that same mischief creeping onto your lips to turn it into a grin as wide as his own. You really did hope you wouldn't get caught this time...hopefully....
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Taglist: @myluvkeiji @aqui-soba @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @yuzuricebun @chaosinanutshell @heizours @haliyamori @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro @thevictoriousmoon @mastering-procrastinating @missesclaus @cxlrose @miss-fantazmagoria @astrequa @kokomist @lemonswriting @eowinthetraveller @ajaxstar @boundedbyfate @the-lost-anime-dad @ash-astrophel @moonbyunniee @greyrain23 @heavenlyfloof
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sophswritingthings · 4 months
Note
PART 10 👹👹👹
After Mizu let Akemi be taken and Ringo obvi said that Mizu wasn't an honorable Samurai and which made Reader a bit angry but of course Mizu leaves and reader follows closely behind.
During the journey to the castle where the white guy is (idfk what his name is I just forgot 😭),before Mizu starts counting the feet to find the cellar she opens up about her previous failed marriage and how much she's been thinking about it.
Reader obviously is slightly jealous but calms down because she's definitely a better wife if they've lasted this long. But she listens intently and is shocked that her ex-husband would honestly bring her in for her bounty and she's worried that Mizu would think that Reader would hand her in so she then swears by taking one of her Kunais (non poisoned but she could handle the poison because she's had the training) and hands it to Mizu saying "if I lose my mind and hand you in, you have full permission and right to stab my heart" saying that she would rather die then lose Mizu.
That's it lol 😍 (trying to make a lot of fillers because season two of blue eye would probably take year's to come and I can't think of anything for London arc lol)
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pairing: mizu x fem!apothecary!reader
warning(s): blood mentions
a/n: poor babes is traumatized. and so am I because seeing mizu with a man hurt me mentally and physically 
word count: 518 words / 2,750 characters
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“you are no.. samurai,” ringo murmured. “a samurai is honorable. you are no honorable man.”
the words make you twitch a little; even though you liked ringo, you did not appreciate him telling your wife that she wasn’t honorable. that she wasn’t a samurai at all.
“I never said I was a samurai,” she hissed, gazing up at him. “you did. and now, I have a man to kill.”
you glanced at mizu; hearing the passion and hurt to her words. ringo shook his head; parting from the two of you.
mizu placed her hat back on her head, slipping her glasses back on. she dispersed, limping a little as she did so—you follow suit, latching onto her side and assisting her in walking.
“you can’t possibly believe you can fight fowler like this,” you murmur, resting a hand on her chest. “you’ll die in minutes.”
“we’ll rest, first—than I must, my love,” she responds rather quickly. she settles you down in a small cave, latched under the heavy set snow. “may.. I talk to you about something?”
you gaze at her for a moment, your chin resting on her chest as well as your hand. “anything.”
“I was married before, in my past,” she glances at you. “he was a horse trader; growing the horses until he would take them for the shogun’s men. he—was a kind soul, from what I could tell.”
you listen intently, feeling a bit jealous, hearing mizu had been married before you—but you were definitely better than whoever this man was, if the two of you had lasted so long already.
“though—he got scared. scared of me,” she murmured. “my eyes.. he thought me an onryō for my eyes and my skill with my blade. he turned me in,” mizu sighed. “he turned me in for a bounty. I—killed him.”
your eyes are wide. to think someone who mizu thought should love her, or, at the least—take care of her, would turn her in for any amount of money.
a worry plucked your heartstrings.
did.. mizu think you were the same?
was she speaking of this, because she was worried you may do the very same to her?
no, you couldn’t have her thinking that, not for a second.
you dug around in your bloodstained kimono, looking for one of your kunai’s.
“my love, what are you..”
you stop her, folding open her hand and placing the kunai on her palm.
“if I ever loose my mind,” you begin. “and hand you in—even try to hand you in—you have my full permission to stab me.” you take the hand she was holding the weapon in and place it on your heart.
“(y/n)..” she whispers your name, gazing at you with a conflicted look in her blue eyes. “I can’t possibly—“
“you can, and you will—if the day ever comes,” you press your forehead against hers, “I would rather die by your hand than ever loose you because of my own foolish decisions.”
she nods a little, reaching up to kiss your forehead. 
“if that is what you wish,” she whispers.
“It is.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
a/n: ooohhh that gif. look at them eyes. I am looking respectfully 👀
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I had no idea that there were so many castle homes around, and lately, a lot of them have been for sale. This stone version in Rochester, Michigan is quite an elaborate design. ($2.5M)  I remember this house, but it just dropped 11 days ago, which means it didn’t sell and they re-listed it.
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It’s quite stately and seems to have everything, including a faux guard house and gates.
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Check out the draw bridge entrance.
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They went with light wood with a medieval look. 
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Inside, it’s white and bright.
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Unless they used cheap wood, why would they cover it up w/white paint?d
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Open living/dining room. 
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This empty space seems to lead to the kitchen and I suppose it can be set up as a sitting area,  since it has a fireplace.
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The kitchen is big, but I’m not terribly impressed. 
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It has a small pantry with an unusual tile backsplash- a parrot and a basket of fruit, plus a blue sink. 
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This office is lovely- look at the floor to ceiling fireplace.
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Red carpet on the stairs, beautifully carved ballusters, and a fresco on the ceiling.
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Nice stone stairway down to the wine cellar. But, what is that hose for? 
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Table nook for wine tasting. 
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Beautiful entertaining space- look at the fireplace. It’s like having your own mead hall.  
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Then, there’s another staircase here. 
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This is a real entertaining space/man cave, especially with the billiards room. 
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Ah, yes, what good is a bedroom w/o a trap door. (I wonder why there are openings above the curtains. Can you climb them to escape something? I notice that they eliminated the photo of the trap door room- it’s just a plain plywood storage space.
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Just an extra room- is that a secret door behind the lamp?
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I’m so disoriented. What is this room? A closet?
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Powder room is nice.
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This looks like a spa- very nice.
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1 of 7 baths.
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Another of 5 bdms. 
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One of the more elaborate baths.
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The cars have a fake street in the garage and a night sky in the ceiling.
https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/2009-Victoria-Hl-Rochester-MI-48306/24364811_zpid/
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citrus-blade · 8 months
Note
Can you do a Dreamnoblade fic where they are in a secret relationship (dating or married) and everyone finds out?
I didn’t know in what exact direction I wanted to go with this as this request gives a lot of opportunity about the Universe, characters and who reacts in certain ways! So I kinda just went with DSMP setting! hope you enjoy! :]
Words: 2.101
They were able to hide it for almost a year, which is much longer than they would have thought. Considering Philza lived right across from Techno, Ranboo living just a few blocks away and Tommy always coming to his hut uninvited. Yeah, they thought they’d find out within the first few months.
But it was clear they overestimated them. By a lot.
Yes, Philza did indeed live right across from Techno, however most of the time he spent down in the giant cellar he was building out into training ground for the Syndicate. So it was rare that he was up when Dream was visiting Techno. And when he wasn’t in the cellar he often wandered around with Ranboo, looking for adventures or was simply sleeping.
Ranboo stayed out of Techno’s business. The Enderman hybrid was rather closed off from the rest of the server, deciding it would be easier for himself to stay by himself most days. When he visited Techno he often announced it beforehand, so it was easy to avoid him.
Last came the biggest problem. Tommy. The kid just appeared out of nowhere, whenever he wanted. No announcement. No planning. Nothing. And what was almost worse was that he stayed for several days most of the time. Cause traveling from his home to Techno’s was quiet a trip and it wouldn’t make sense if he wouldn’t stay for a longer period.
So you can imagine that hiding a relationship from those people was hard, right? Well, you would be right with that. Dream and Techno knew that cause it was them hiding said relationship, can you imagine anyone of their friends - or Dream’s former friends – would found out about it? Their lives would be ruined and their relationship as well. No way would Tommy not immediately run off and tell everyone where Dream could be found.
So for Dream’s sake – and also to safe Techno from annoying questions and judging looks – they played it safe. No one could find out, ever and it went surprisingly well. Dream had a small base close to Techno’s hut, connected through an underground tunnel that ended in the mountain behind said hut. And whenever they could they’d sneak out and meet up.
Most of the time it was Dream visiting Techno, because the piglin hybrid had an actual house and not just two beds and some chests in a small cave. There it was warm and comfortable and nights weren’t cold and without the sounds of dripping water from somewhere – Dream still hadn’t found the source for that.
Sometimes Techno visited Dream but always complained about the man’s living condition, calling him homeless almost every time. It made Dream furious and sometimes he told Techno to leave and that he’d make an actual home out of the cave. Though he never acted on it, instead sneaking into his boyfriend’s bed the same night demanding cuddles which Techno always provided. No one knew but the piglin loved holding his partner close and Dream had the suspicion it was partly to make sure the blond was safe.
Pandoras Vault had hurt Dream, had changed him, damaged him. The scars were one thing, the never leaving tremor of his limbs another. He could still fight, scared Tommy and make sure to kill his enemies, but still. It was different. The fights needed more energy from him and writing a letter was suddenly a much harder task than striking down a cow for it’s meat. Not to forget the nightmares and panic attacks he got from simple stuff, such as eating potatoes.
Techno had stopped growing them, burnt them all down after Dream had a panic attack and told him about the potatoes in prison. Philza had asked him why, Techno simply answered he needed the space for something else and they weren’t efficient anyway. Now there grew roses, useless but beautiful.
It was a calm day, Philza had taken Ranboo to find some totems of undying which would take them a few days and Tommy had left on the same day to return home. Which meant that the hut was completely free from everyone who could disturb the couple. In those times they mostly were in bed, cuddling and napping together, Technoblade slept a lot, hibernated a lot. When Dream was there he tried not to, but it rarely worked, the blond appreciated it though.
So three days or so after everyone had left you could find them in the living room, huddled together under a blanket on the couch. Techno had an arm around Dream, watching the fire move in the chimney and keeping the hut warm. The blanket was more for comfortable reasons and to make Dream feel safer, more unseen. “How long do you think we will have to ourselves?” Dream eventually asked, glancing up at his partner who cocked a brow.
“At least five more days till Philza and Ranboo return,” Techno answered, tightening the hold around Dream and pressing his nose against his temple, inhaling his scent lightly. “They have to travel far cause I took all the totems from the nearest mansions. Don’t worry about them.” Dream hummed lightly as a kiss was placed on his temple, he turned his head to receive one on his lips instead.
His hands found Techno’s face, stroking his cheeks and pulling him closer once more to keep kissing him. Techno was happy to oblige, leaning down to make it easier for Dream. Techno’s hands found Dream’s waist, squeezing lightly and pushing him down in his back. With ease he placed himself between his legs, laying down on the blond while still kissing him, now more heated.
They didn’t hear it, way too distracted by each other to pay any attention to the outside world. How could they when they were holding all they needed in their arms? But the door opened and people walked in, talking to each other about whatever before freezing with said door still open. Only when someone started screaming did Techno and Dream react, sitting up and falling into action.
Dream got his ax to fight, Techno his sword and positioned himself slightly in front of his partner. Both froze in their spot when they realized what was happening. Philza and Ranboo were back and it seemed like Tommy had decided to come back as well. Only there were a few more people, Niki, George and Sapnap were all standing there eyes wide.
“What is that green bastard doing here?!” Tommy eventually pulled everyone out of their frozen state, making them move. Philza looked confused, Ranboo tried hiding said man, Tommy pulled his lame iron sword and Sapnap his diamond one. George just kept staring, tilting his head lightly, while Niki positioned herself next to Philza, a cake in her hand. “Techno! What is he doing here?!”
Examining the room let Techno know that there were only two people who had drawn their weapons and he could easily defeat them with the help of Dream. But still, he stayed tense just as Dream, the man stepping closer to his partner, eyes staring at Sapnap. His tremor got worse which often meant that Dream was about to have another attack so it was time to do something to make sure he would be okay.
“Why aren’t you answering me?!” Tommy was still screaming, making the situation harder on everyone. “Hand him out so I can kill him!”
“No,” Sapnap protested, anger visible on his face as he stepped closer, “I said I would kill him when he escaped.” And now Techno understood why Dream’s state got worse with every second. The piglin huffed out in annoyance, placing himself between the blond and the noirette, making sure he wouldn’t be able to look at him anymore.
“I don’t think so, Sapnap,” Techno growled out, hold on his sword tightening, “why are you all here?”
“Techno, step out of-”
“It wasn’t planned,” Philza cut Sapnap off, meeting his friend’s gaze with no intended harm or anger, just understanding. As someone who was in love with the goddess of death, Philza knew how it was to be in love with someone everyone hated or feared. “Niki sent us all a message about information that George and Sapnap were starting sniffing around in the area here, so we came back. Tommy is here cause we picked him up on the way.”
“I wanted to steal some shit but now that I know he is here-!”
“Of course you wanted to steal stuff,” Techno grumbled under his breath, glancing over his shoulder to check on Dream. He had lowered his ax and was taking deep breathes, eyes closed with his full body trembling. “Why were you two sniffing around here?” Techno now looked at Sapnap and George, or more so glared than just looked.
George glanced at Sapnap, deciding he was too worked up to talk. “We heard that Dream was seen somewhere here and just wanted to check.”
“And then what do once you found him?”
Silence fell over them, clear that Sapnap wanted to kill his former friend, George seemed like he didn’t know why he wanted to find Dream. Maybe to apologize, maybe to ask questions, maybe just to see how much he had changed. Techno didn’t ask him, decided it wasn’t worth it. “Put the weapons down,” he said, glancing at Tommy and Sapnap.
When neither of them moved Niki cleared her throat and turned to them with annoyance visible on her face. “Put them down guys!” And with just a bit more hesitation they did, letting them vanish in their inventories. She then turned to Techno, raising her brows until the piglin also let down his weapon.
Immediately he turned around to Dream, placing one hand over his who were still holding onto the ax. His other one found his cheek, pressing against it lightly and making him look up into Techno’s face. “It’s okay, you’re safe,” Techno mumbled, pressing his forehead against Dream’s. “I will not let them hurt you, you can let go now.” Dream took a few more deep breathes before the ax in his hands vanished.
Techno pulled the blanket that had fallen on the ground over Dream’s shoulders before turning back to the others, arm around the blond. Dream looked up briefly before his eyes found Niki, wandering down to her hands. “...a cake?” He asked, his head slightly tilted.
Niki looked down at the cake in her hands in surprise as if he had forgotten about it. Then she started smiling and looked back up. “Yeah! I made it this morning for Hannah, but she had to cancel our meeting so I wanted to share it with Techno and the others instead, cause I knew they would arrive today, as I wrote them yesterday about George and Sapnap.” She chuckled lightly. “I guess we can all share it?”
“What?! You can’t be serious!” Tommy said, his voice slightly high pitched as he gestured to Dream and Techno, the blond tensing up once again. A big hand on his lower back helped him to calm down again. “You want to give him cake?! He’s a psychopath! A murderer! He belongs into prison!”
Niki rolled her eyes at the young adult. “Have you looked at him? If anything he is the one who needs the cake the most!” Everyone eyes Dream at that, the man had lost a lot of weigh and muscles in prison and blushed in embarrassment when they all looked at him. “He doesn’t look like he could actually harm us, so forget your dumb fights and wars for just a second!”
“Yeah,” Ranboo agreed with a soft voice, eyes the odd pair in front of them. “I also wanna know why he’s here with Techno and why did it look like they were sucking face when we came in here.” And those words both Techno’s and Dream’s faces turned as red as a beet, glancing at each other.
“Wait, you’re right,” Sapnap mumbled with a frown, “What was that?”
“Well…”
“You see…”
They both started at the same time and eventually it was Dream who decided to inform them of their current relationship status. “We’re kind of… boyfriends.”
Silence. Complete silence. Only the wind whistled through the hut and the fire cracked loudly as it danced, making sure it stayed warm. Outside a crow sat in a tree, staring at the hut with the closed doors. Until a loud ‘What?!’ echoed through the woods, forcing multiple animals to flee.
Dream and Techno had a lot of explaining to do.
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nousrose · 2 months
Text
The alchemist of today is not hidden in caves and cellars, studying alone, but as he goes on with his work, it is seen that walls are built around him, and while he is in the world, like the master of old, he is not of it. As he goes further in his work, the light of other people's advice and outside help grows weaker and weaker, until finally he stands alone in darkness, and then comes the time that he must use his own lamp, and the various experiments which he has carried on must be his guide. He must take the elixir of life which he has developed and with it fill the lamp of his spiritual consciousness, and holding that above his head, walk into the great unknown, where if he has been a good and faithful servant, he will learn of the alchemy of divinity. Where now test tubes and bottles are his implements, then worlds and globes he will study, and as a silent watcher will learn from that divine one, who is the great alchemist of all the universe, the greatest alchemy of all, the creation of life, the maintenance of form, and the building of worlds.
The Initiates Of The Flame
Manly P. Hall
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kumo-taoc · 3 days
Text
A list of taocc characters and what I think their pokemon type/types would be and why
Kumo: Water/Normal
I struggled with this one a little, but I picked this because clouds are made of water, and kumo has sort of a cloud sweater! But kumo's just an all-around goofball, so I just put Normal as his second type.
Stitch: Grass/Rock
I chose grass for stitch because burlap is made of some sort of plant, and rock because sand is just a bunch of tiny little rocks.
Belle: Poison
This one shouldn't be hard to understand, but I'll explain anyway. She's made of poisonous sludge.
Icia: Ice/Steel
The ice one should be pretty self-explanatory, and I chose steel because she's a skilled swordfighter.
Bob: Ghost
...
Sign: Normal/Grass
Now, I may not know much sign lore, but I DO know that signs are usually made out of wood. Sign seems like a pretty normal guy, though.
Sun: Fire
I mean, she IS a burning ball of gas. Also, her arms are fire now!
Dusk: Dark/Ice or Dark/Fairy
Darkness just kind of fits with dusk. Also, it's usually dark around dusk (time of day) anyway. I couldn't decide the second type for her, and here's why. I chose ice because I remember elsie saying something about how she's connected to ice somehow, and it's usually cold around dusk (time of day). And fairy because dusk seems to be connected to them somehow...? I think?
Jessy: Grass/Fairy
I chose grass for jessy because he's made of wood! And, like, his wife has the fairy type, so why shouldn't he?
Clara: Grass/Steel
I chose grass for clara for the same reason as jessy and steel because of that sword they've got!
Abstraction Anon: Dark/Electric
Well, he lives in the cellar, which is VERY dark, and abstraction hurts. Guess what else hurts? LIGHTNING! /silly
Dialtone: Dark/Electric
Dialtone seems to be the kind of person who likes to sit in the dark. Also, he sleeps a lot. And he loves (old) phones and has phone cords, so electric just seemed right.
Alchemist: Poison/Bug
The poison part seems pretty obvious, and I chose bug because he's a tiny lil guy who I can probably crush under my shoe. (also mod bug ehehehe)
Helpful Anon: Flying
Helpful anon is just so... "helpful anon" that no other type seemed right.
Mix: Poison/Bug
Alcohol is a poison. Also, he's a butterfly now!
Kopi: Poison/Fighting
Kopi's got that weird pink goo that she shoots at people... ew... also, kopi has been described to be very strong!
AI Kopi: Steel/Bug
AI Kopi has those metal spider legs coming out of her back, so that works for steel AND bug! Also, she seems severely weakened, and bugs are notoriously weak.
D.R.U.N.K.I.E.: Steel/Electric
He's a robot (or more accurately, an ai that acts more like a robot than an ai)!
Drunkie: Normal/Poison
Again, alcohol is a poison! But other than that, he's just a normal guy!
Simp Anon & Lucy: Normal
They're just normal girls!
Chance: Fighting/Normal
She could probably beat someone up if she was really mad, but other than that, she's just a silly little girl with a silly little sandbag boyfriend!
Nightmare: Dark
Well, she's done a LOT of bad things, AND dark is, like, part of her theme and design.
Tophat: Dark
He's not AS bad as nightmare, but he's also done some pretty mean things. Also, he lives in a cave.
Aoki: Water/Ice
He lived in a forest where it constantly rained, he can probably summon rain/thunderclouds, and he... uh... does things with ice/cold. He can even control the temperature in a room!
Calypso: Normal
Welp, that's it for now!
She's just a silly little pillow person!
Thanks for reading all the way to the end! Have some cookies!
🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪🍪
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I realise I've shared Sezha without actually Sharing Sezha so behold, my boy
I've been having so much fun with this section of the lair, and I am a lore / story-building lair despite the actual lack of public lore, so have some rambles regarding him and his section of the lair below as I scream into the void about him q wq
warning: this is a hot mess of rambles
The acolytes are all 'new age' beasties compared to the rest of the lair, so younger sprites with smaller energy than the wizened elementals or eldritch critters from Oasis or Deepwoods. They first emerged from the far roots of the Deepwoods, tainted by the magics of the Solstice Trio, and as such are still bound to lands corrupted by the forest above. They're cave-dwelling creatures with albinistic traits, but all streaked with peacock tones from Solstice influence. As a whole, they're quick to act and quick to forgive, often tumbling into wild tousles out of nowhere due to some innate itch.
They're primal in a way that defies their age, acting on core instinct above logic at most times. The entire lair is curated by their instincts as well, tunnels burrowed to keep nails and sometimes teeth in shape due to their specific diet ( tainted fungi and roots from the forest ) causing some reactions to some reverting to more beastly forms than they started. Most of the Acolytes spend their time... pretty much having the time of their lives. Short lives, but still. They curate moss ( so much moss, ) sculpt sections out of the limestone to show praise to the Solstice ( which leads to ornate tunnels winding with scale-like patterns carved into the walls for most of the lair, ) and they eat their weight in plump mushrooms and ichor-tainted roots. There's nothing to complain for since they have their every need met for the time being, until something monumental changes they're more than happy to continue their strange little life below the ground.
Sezha is the lair curator -- the one that plans new winding tunnels or cellars for different types of jewel-toned mushroom growths, and decides the final colour palettes for new artistic projects run by Seiph and pong ( who are both equally as passionate about ensuring the subterranean lair is as beautiful as it is sustainable. ) He often spends his time ripping through the tunnels at full tilt, knowing the lair so well that he can whip past daintier sections of their artistic 'venture' into the depths without so much as rustling the daintiest of fungi. His body is more stoat-like than anything else, modified and specialised for this way of life away from the air, his feathery wings often just used for emoting rather than ever catching air beneath them.
When not 'working,' he spends a lot of his time breeding silkmoths, the colonies able to sustain some of their trades with the other branches of their alliance, but it's mostly just something he enjoys doing. Cocoons are often found tucked into his dense fur or strung carefully on wires and tucked into the crooks of his wings for safety. When a new fungi colony is settled into a new lair section, Sezha will often have plans made for new moth colonies to introduce.
He's meticulous about keeping himself tidy, often idly grooming his fur and feathers while discussing matters with other Acolytes. Most of the cave network have walls bound with marble rather than dusty stones or raw earth for that reason. His body is often painted with gold pigments, making him shine under glowlights and sparkle while streaking past.
The only time the Acolytes are able to properly leave their den is during the Solstice's wake, which lasts about two weeks in summer and winter. All four of these are usually a time for Sezha to simply exist and watch life continue above the surface, to enjoy the tones outside of his normal reach, and to memorise as much of it as he could to inspire him for the next six months of work.
BIG MESS OF RAMBLING but I love he so much, I love this section of the lair so much, they're all just literal goblin energy beans that love to make things pretty and consider themselves artists but half the time it's just hyper-fixation and so much needs to be knocked down and redone constantly like a giant ouroborous of cave networks. They dance and gnash teeth, create, destroy, worship, and repeat.
maybe some day I'll actually get my lair lore out properly but it's literally a 3-saga thing at this point because 3-generations of lair heads RIP.
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moo-blogging · 2 years
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Late night (angst) thought #32:
"Please, Levi.." you begged, "please get off the table.."
"Can't you just shut the fuck up and leave my damned office for 5 fucking minutes?" Levi slammed his pen on his desk with anger.
Shivering with sadness, fatigue and shock, you turned and walked out of his office, disappeared in the busy corridor.
You survived the Female Titan attack, but there were too many casualties during this expedition. Levi lost his whole squad except Eren, and he failed to bring back their bodies to their families. Guilt and helplessness attacked him, and he was at the edge of insanity. He decided to drown himself in paperwork immediately after he got to HQ, ignoring everyone including you. You were begging him to go to the infirmary for a check up and also hoping for some alone time with him.
After what felt like hours, Levi took his strained eyes off the stack of papers on his desk, and idly stared at the empty space where you stood earlier. What's got into me? He thought. I never yelled at her before.
Just then, he saw black dots on the floor that wasn't there before. It was dried blood. Shit. He sprang from his chair and took off after you. He followed the trail of blood but lost it as people walked over it before it dried.
After he learnt that you did not go to the infirmary, Levi started to panic. He racked his brain to find where you would hide when you're sad. You lost your best friend, Petra in the battle and you were hurt too. Levi regretted he was harsh on you.
And then it clicked, the wine cellar, which is now where they store gas for the ODM gears. You used to say it looked like a cave for cubs to hide in, cool, dark and safe. Finding blood stains on the entrance of the staircase, Levi sprang into the wine cellar. He called your name, but his voice only echoed through space.
With each bigger drop of blood on the floor, his heart cracked. He found you unconscious on the floor at the last row. You were lying in your own blood, your right thigh was hurt and blood stained everywhere.
He didn't know he was chocking up tears until Hange took you off his arms and gave him a tissue to wipe his face. Levi was crying. He thought he was going to lose you too, not to titans but because of him. Hange assured him that you were alive, only having inflammation to your open wound.
Levi never left your side for the next two days. Holding your hand and apologising.
Question: fluff or smut for the next post? Am dry of inspiration 😪
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patron-minette · 2 months
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Babet and Molutor in ‘Le Monde des Prisons’
There are many interesting references made to Les Misérables in Le Monde des Prisons (1887) by Georges Moreau. This relatively unknown work features the detailed recollections of Moreau’s own interactions and conversations with real prisoners (“reproduire mes conversations”) during his tenure as an ‘aumônier’ at La Grande-Roquette prison in Paris. 
Throughout the account, Hugo’s writings on crime and criminal archetypes as featured in Les Misérables are frequently cited. This even extends to fleeting discussions about the police and prison system (click here for a rather intriguing comparison involving Javert).
However, there is a particularly notable chapter where a real-life criminal, identified only as Molutor, is compared extensively to the character of Babet:
“Victor Hugo a crayonné de main de maitre un joli quatuor de bandits, Claquesous Gueulemer, Babet et Montparnasse, qui, dit-il, gouvernaient, de 1830 à 1835, le troisième dessous de Paris, cette cave d'où sort Lacenàire. [...] Molutor (François-Joseph), le père de notre fugitif de la Petite-Roquette, avait été plus favorisé de la fortune que le Babet de Victor Hugo. Sa femme lui avait donné trois enfants qui, pour n'être pas nés avec un mufle de veau, lui avaient rapporté une petite aisance.”
[Trans. Victor Hugo has masterfully pencilled a lovely quartet of bandits, Claquesous, Gueulemer, Babet and Montparnasse, who, he says, ruled the third substage of Paris from 1830 to 1835, the cellar from which Lacenàire emerged. [...] Molutor (François-Joseph), the father of our Petite-Roquette fugitive, had been more fortunate than Victor Hugo's Babet. His wife had given him three children who, though not being born with a calf's muzzle, had brought him a small amount of wealth.]
I find these comparisons truly captivating, as— despite initially seeming rather trivial— allusions such as this uniquely blend real-life criminality with fictional realms.
Moreau goes on to elaborate that Molutor and the character of Babet share additional similarities because they both extend their criminal activities into theatrical spheres; Babet’s vaudeville performances and his displaying of ‘freaks’ are indirectly compared to Molutor’s activities as innkeeper of a real club named Le cabaret des Pieds. In an even more intriguing detail, Moreau describes Molutor as occasionally collaborating with a brute named ‘Gueule-de-Sac’— which makes me think of ‘Gueulemer’!
Moreover, even the physical attributes of Babet and Molutor are paralleled… echoing a disconcerting, though unfortunately unsurprising, ideology (whether on purpose or implicitly) wherein certain physical traits were believed to correspond with particular criminal behaviours.
“Ce Molutor était un homme petit, maigre, blême, anguleux, osseux, chétif, qui avait l'air malade et qui se portait à merveille; sa fourberie commençait là. Il souriait habituellement par précaution, et était poli à peu près avec tout le monde, même avec le mendiant auquel il refusait un liard. Il avait le regard d'une fouine. S'il rappelait Babet par certains côtés il faisait encore plus songer à Thénardier. Comme Thénardier, il s'était établi gargotier à Alger. / Souvent, il s'absentait plusieurs semaines de suite et l'on remarquait que c'était toujours du côté et à l'époque où nos soldats se battaient contre les Arabes. Il partait avec une petite carriole attelée d'un mauvais cheval, emportant quelques provisions qu'il vendait fort cher aux troupes.”
[Trans. “This Molutor was a short, skinny, pallid, angular, bony, puny man, who looked ill and was doing wonderfully well; his deceitfulness began there. He usually smiled as a precaution, and was polite to just about everyone, even the beggar to whom he refused a liard. He had the look of a weasel. If he reminded us of Babet in some ways, he reminded us even more of Thénardier. Like Thénardier, he had established himself as a gargotier in Algiers. / He was often away for several weeks at a time, always on the side and at the time when our soldiers were fighting the Arabs. He would leave with a small cart hitched to a bad horse, carrying a few provisions which he sold at a high price to the troops.”]
The line “Il souriait habituellement par précaution, et était poli à peu près avec tout le monde, même avec le mendiant auquel il refusait un liard” instantly brings to mind Boulatruelle’s introduction in Les Misérables:
“Ce Boulatruelle était un homme vu de travers par les gens de l'endroit, trop respectueux, trop humble, prompt à ôter son bonnet à tout le monde, tremblant et souriant devant les gendarmes, probablement affilié à des bandes, disait-on, suspect d'embuscade au coin des taillis à la nuit tombante.” — Book II.II.II
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