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hana-no-seiiki · 1 year

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This is 💗 anon, your anon is turned off. Please let me stay anonymous. Anywho, I, uh, need Jing Yuan to just use me any way he wants. He needs to spit in my mouth? My tongue is out waiting for it. He tells me jump, I ask how high. He wants to ruin me in front of his officers who aren't allowed to look at me? I'll do it

That or I power bottom Sampo. Make that submissive little shit worship me

ON A PLATTER

YANDERE! JING YUAN x AMAB! SOLDIER! READER

plus a little Sampo addition (not smut tho) to the end.

hope everyone that pulled for him succeeded!!

©️ art and story belongs to me, character goes to hoyoverse. please do not redistribute, repost, or share my art without credit or permission.

warnings: noncon. spoilers for the jarilo iv storyline. anal seggs.

status: unedited

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. I BEG OF YOU.

Many exalted the drowsy general’s prowess and leadership across the Xianzhou Alliance. Under his rule, the Luofu Flagship developed into a powerhouse that petrified those who heard its name. An infamous red line that warned against those that sought immortality. A blade that stuck right next your jugular in case you dare so moved in a direction they do not want you to.

This general was hundreds of years your junior but had already accomplished far more than you have. That fact was the second biggest slap to the face.

The actual, most damaging slap was his patronizing attitude towards you.

How were you supposed to rise above your station and prove your worth as a knight when he assigned you as his measly bodyguard? It wasn’t as if it was a quiet career really, the man faced dozens of attempts at his life on a daily. It was moreso the fact that he never let you do your job in the first place.

You spent decades just standing around while he swung his massive sword at intruders before you could even blink. Somehow, the lousy man moved faster when defending you rather than with his own duties. It was as if he was the body guard not you.

Not to mention the perverse stares. You weren’t dense. You could feel his bedroom eyes from miles away, taking off the heavy armor you wore to work and leaving you bare. You felt like a lamb, or a tender piece of steak on a platter — and he, the most insatiable man alive.

Hundreds of years training — wasted, spent on being a trophy for him.

If remaining close to the master that misused you for several decades was bad enough, having to interact with him was like hell on earth. He was a vice, a poison molded into the shape of a man. One that could kill you in a instant, but looked oh so tempting. Only the heavens knew how you were resisted his charms for so long.

“Yes, my general? How may I be of assistance?” Your voice and words held a cordial, cold tone to it. If your employer could not bring a semblance of professionalism into the table, then you would tenfold. If he always closed in the distance between you two, you in turn would step further away in your relationship or whatever one might call this thing between the two of you was.

Despite your frigid temperament, Jing Yuan does not flinch nor back down. His eyes trained on a star-chess piece as he twirled it around. “I think it is about time we quell any sort of . . . resentment you have towards me is all.”

You had to give it to him. Jing Yuan was one of the most attractive people you’ve ever bared witness to. At nights like these where his mane of a hair was let down, giving him a relaxed and playful look, it was hard not to stare. “Pardon, my general?”

“You have no need to give me false face, [Y/N]. I know of your doubts and qualms. You see me unfit to continue being General. That I am incompetent, lazy. That I do not let you do a job you feel you are overqualified to even be in.” He listed off before carefully placing the star-chess piece down. His eyes then abruptly flicked to you, creating eye-contact and in turn, chills.

You are rendered speechless. How had he known? You had been so terribly careful. Never spouting about what you thought. Never even writing down such things. You knew better than to show your treacherous feelings outside of the seat of divine foresight, much less within.

So how, how did this wretched man know?

The General smirked as your hands tightened around your spear. “Why so shy all of a sudden, little warrior? Do not worry. I have a feeling you’ll quite enjoy what I have in store for you.”

“Come here.” He patted his lap.

And you quickly realized what was happening here.

Your whole career was a waiting game really. Each day you could only pray that the General had enough self-control not to take you. It seemed that today was the day all restraints were taken off.

Now, you could only pray for things to be swiftly over, or heavens forbid for him to not enjoy it so that it won’t happen again in the future.

Jing Yuan had long planned for this moment. What order he’d take off each piece of armor, how he’d do it, and every step following that. He was more meticulous in the way he’d have his time with you than anything else in his life.

Never did he put this much effort into anything. Not his studies nor training. He had to give it to you. You were right. He didn’t fully devote himself into playing General. How could he when he was already fully devoting himself to you?

“Perhaps little warrior was a wrong title for me to give you. With how drenched these are, wouldn’t little whore be better, hm?” Your skin, no matter what imperfections it may have, looked immaculate to his eyes. It was something Jing Yuan daydreamed about for hours on end and you did not disappoint. He should have done this sooner, he thought. Too bad it had to take a certain trigger for all his control to diminish.

His wasted no time when grabbing your cock. It was semi soft, though you didn’t want him this way your hormones said otherwise. He doesn’t falter for one second even after knowing so, predicting that its state would change once he began stimulating it. “My General, please — ngh — cease this at one.”

You legs kept moving around, either in pleasure or in a last ditch attempt at resisting, you didn’t know. Your body was moving on sheer instinct. Flight or fight mixing with euphoria. Fear and relief clashing against one another. It had been months since you last touched yourself. As a being close to a thousand years of age, your libido had long fizzled out. Or so you thought.

“You really are in need of a wake up call.”

Jing Yuan remained silent for the couple of minutes it took you to finally ejaculate. As the thick white liquid left your member, so did the remaining will to resist.

“I am your ruler.”

Jing Yuan suddenly stood up, causing you to fall forward unto his desk. Your chrysanthemum presented itself for him.

“My word is law.”

His left hands slid from your lower back to your shoulder as his right aligned his cock. You dare not look back to witness his size.

You hear the sound of a bottle being opened and of squelching while Jing Yuan covered himself in lubricant. He almost spends an entire minute just touching himself to your naked back. A sight he thought would only remain a mirage, a phantasm he will never see come to light.

“My desire will be met.”

But alas, you are here. Though he could easily reach climax just masturbating to this magnificent view, a taste was what this entire endeavor’s reason for occurring.

“And long have I waited for this moment to have you in my hands, Senior.”

He enters. Not gentle in the slightest. And to both your surprise he cums right there, not even lasting a second within you. Regardless of the surprise and sudden intrusion, you do not miss the way he addressed you.

A flood of memories fills your mind. “Xiao Yuan . . ?”

You do not get to think too much about it however, as Jing Yuan quickly regained his erection and began fucking your hole. Groaning loudly at your tightness which came as a result of your surprise. He picks you up by your arms and pressed your back to his chest.

“You finally remembered me, have you? But alas, catching up will have to wait. We have an audience waiting for the real show to begin.” He tilted his head away and looked beyond your form.

The guards — those who thought were your friends — that were stationed there weren’t dismissed. They were watching the whole time you were being jerked off and reached climax. Their eyes were glued to how Jing Yuan’s cock would disappear into your little hole, ears peeled to the lewd sounds of squelching, slapping and mewling, you bet that behind those helmets they were drooling over your misery.

But you didn’t feel an inch of anger at them at all, only at the man that forced you into this wicked situation in the first place.

“You lunatic—“ You yelled, but you do not move away, thrash or form any attempts at escape.

“Lunatic? No no, just authoritarian. A leader needs to assert himself in the face of . . . those who daringly gaze at my belonging. All while they’re stripped bare for me to partake in. If anything those lowly soldiers are the perverts are they not?” He paused from his thrusts, and you are ashamed to know that you made a small whine of disappointment at his lack of movement. He chuckled at your response before his face turned cold.

Golden eyes dripped in apathy as he commanded to everyone else in the room. “Helmets off.”

“Yes, general!” They all nodded in unison. No hesitation whatsoever.

“Look straight into their eyes, little warrior.” But who were you to judge when all you do to his commands were to follow blindly as well? You faced your comrades, you’re almost thankful for your arousal clouding your brain and stopping it from feeling too much shame and disgust. They stare right back. Eyes burning with lust and excitement.

Once he is assured of your eye-contact, Jing Yuan began pounding your ass again, this time he was somehow much more harsh than he was at the beginning. “Ngh — !”

“See all of them? These people would kill to be in my place right now. They’d beg for just a drop of your essence. And here you are, taking my cock like the good little warrior you are. Milking me for all I’m worth. Aren’t you greedy for me? Hahaha!” It doesn’t take Jing Yuan long to get jealous. Just several seconds later he shoves you forward and back unto his desk, forcing you to face somewhere else and your attention back to only the way his cock rearranged your insides and hiding the way your hole took him. His hand running itself through your hair, tugging once or twice every minute.

He leaned forward, thus allowing his voice to reach your ears and your ears alone, and his member to reach even further inside you. “Want more of my cum, [Y/N]? Tell me. Order me.”

“Give me - ah - more of your cum, you - ah - bastard!” You screamed, grabbing ahold of one of his scrolls and unintentionally breaking via the strength of your grip.

Your wish is his command.

Jing Yuan doesn’t slow down or stop as his cum filled you up. He wanted to make sure every corner of your hole was covered with him, that every spurt of his seed would decorate your rectum and make it its home.

“Satisfied with your general now, soldier?” He asked, his hips now slowly stuttered to a stop.

You do not reply, only panting in exhaustion. He does not part with you for a moment when he gave his command.

“Qingzu. Send this recording to Tingyun, then execute the rest.”

Your shock and terror overshadowed the doom of all your friends.

“Yes, my General.”

You only realized the weight of it all when he turned you around for an embrace. His genital already ‘recovering’ and almost ready for another round.

“How would you like their eyes served to you, hm? In preserve jars . . .

Or on a platter?”

Inside the void of space. Of the stars, the planets. The cradle of creation and dreams. You hear the sly voice of a man you once knew.

“What a pervert you are, reading a smutty story of that General from Xianzhou.”

What was his name again? Sam . . . Samuel . . . ?

“Sooo ~ did you enjoy it? Did you have fun?”

Sampo. Sampo Koski.

“ . . . What ?”

Yes, Sampo, your fellow actor. How could you forget? The support to your lead. The guy who always had your back.

“Oh my, you seem a little disoriented.“

In the cold embrace of the void, Sampo’s hands almost felt hot when he placed it upon your cheeks.

“Not to worry, dear friend! I’ll fix you right back up again. Can’t have our main actor ill-prepared for their next show, do we?”

And the curtain opens, revealing a sea of white.

[ TRANSLATION ]

chrysanthemum - lit. it’s a pretty flower ya’ll. slang wise it means anus.

xiao - lit. little. it’s a chinese diminutive, basically added to the name to make it sound cute. like little yun or little [y/n].

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

#yandere #yandere jing yuan #yandere hsr #yandere smut #yandere honkai star rail #yandere x reader #yandere x reader smut #yandere jing yuan smut #jing yuan smut #jingyuan #yandere jingyuan #yandere star rail #star rail #jing yuan x reader #jingyuan x reader #yandere x you #sampo #sampo x reader #yandere sampo x reader

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liyawritesss · 4 months

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ᖴᒪOᗯEᖇᔕ Iᑎ ᗷᒪOOᗰ - ᐯᗩᒪEᑎTIᑎEᔕ ᗪᖇᗩᗷᗷᒪEᔕ

Ｄａｙ７－ＳｔａｒＧａｚｉｎｇ

－ Midnight Rendezvous - 42!Miles Morales - Spiderman: Across The Spiderverse

－ In which no one in life understands you, except the boy in the flat across the hall who you sneak out onto the rooftops with every Sunday night.

－ Check out more prompts and other activities on the Flowers In Bloom Event Masterlist!

“Rough day, huh?” Those three words are how your usual hangouts started. The night air is a bit chilly, complementary of the early spring weather that comes with February. It’s refreshing at least, compared to the week the both of you have had.

“Don’t even get me started,” you drone, pulling the hoodie sleeves over her fingers to keep them from growing cold. The sweater is actually Miles’, one he’d let you borrow on a much colder midnight rendezvous, and you had yet to return.

He sits criss-cross next to you, the ends of his twin french braids moving as he does so. The fluorescent lighting from the streetlights paint his face in a pretty glow, the sounds of police sirens are distant and remind you of the kind of world you live in. Despite it all, however, these little trips to the rooftop with Miles on Sunday evenings give you a sense of serenity.

“Can’t have been worse than mine.” he comments.

“Well,” you say in an exhale, “the entire school is pink and red now for Valentines Day.”

“Shit- I forgot about that,” You go to the same school, so he knows exactly what you're referencing, and he snickers in distaste, wiping down the length of his face, “I’m not looking forward to that tomorrow.”

“Be lucky you didn’t have to help decorate it,” you say, “though I can say confidently that you should expect a lot of secret admirer letters in your locker.”

A little laugh leaves your lips as you watch Miles sink into his seat, hands covering the back of his head as he cowers and pouts; he didn’t want to be reminded of his popularity status amongst the girls at Visions Academy, but you couldn’t not pass up the opportunity to mess with him a little bit.

“I think I might just die, thanks.” he murmurs in defeat. You rest your hand on his back, running soothing circles in between his shoulder blades.

“Don’t get all shy now, playa,” you tease, “you knew it was coming. Now it’s time to face the music!”

“I’d rather face my mom with a slipper on a bad day from the hospital.”

You playfully push the other to the side, laughter filling the air from both of you, because you knew there to be some truth in his statement. You were sure that he would take every loophole possible to avoid the girls he knew had a massive crush on him, and that he’d much prefer his mothers’ snappy attitude than the bombardment of his classmates with heart shaped eyes. “You play too much.”

After he recovers from your playful assault on him, he sees that you’ve turned your attention to the sky above the two of you. “The stars are out tonight.”

There isn’t much to see in a city heavy with light pollution, but the stars are there. Little specks of twinkling lights hung high in the sky to be admired by all; Miles sees why you like them. Its as easy to get lost in the deep blue sky as it is to get lost in you, which he finds himself doing more frequently.

“They’re so pretty,” you say mindlessly, and Miles turns his gaze from the sky onto you. There’s silence for a moment, and you’re so caught up in the stars you have yet to notice how the boy finds you much more prettier in this light.

“Yeah,” he says lowly, almost in a murmur, “sure is.” He then turns back towards the sky, wondering if it’s the sky he should find more prettier than the girl who keeps him company on the rooftops of their apartment building.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

#flowersinbloom🏵#black reader #black tumblr #black marvel #marvel x reader #marvel x black!reader #marvel spiderman #spiderman marvel #spiderman x reader #spiderman x black!reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #miles morales prowler #prowler miles #e 42 miles morales x reader #42!miles x reader #42!miles morales x reader

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betterbooktitles · 23 days

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I was standing in Terminal 4 at JFK far away from the impatient scrum of people waiting near my gate for a Delta agent to announce it was their turn to board. As I watched passengers who’d arrived on other flights step around this pool of people buried in their phones, so desperate to be sitting on the plane instead of standing inside the airport, I thought about a review of William Gibson’s 2012 book of essays called Distrust That Particular Flavor, a book I’ve never read.

In “Distrust That Particular Flavor,” Gibson pulls off a dazzling trick. Instead of predicting the future, he finds the future all around him, mashed up with the past, and reveals our own domain to us as a science-fictional marvel… I glanced up from the pages of this book and surveyed the street-side around me, I felt as if I were wearing Gibson-glasses. Cars lumbered past like ponderous elephants of rusty steel, not so different from the cars of 30 years ago, and seemed not to belong in the same world as the tattooed kid punching code into his laptop nearby. Under the spell of this book, I suddenly understood my surroundings not as a discrete contemporary tableau but as a hodgepodge of 1910, 1980, 2011 and 2020. -Pagan Kennedy, NY Times

I am several steps removed: I was remembering reading a review of a book published 12 years ago that was filled with writing previously published in magazines decades earlier. I could have easily downloaded a digital copy of the book on my phone and started reading the source material, but instead, I searched Google for the most pared-down version of what I wanted to remember from Gibson’s writing, that single quote that encapsulated what I was thinking at that moment:

“The future is already here – it's just not evenly distributed.”

The night before my trip, my phone buzzed and the Delta app offered a tantalizing deal: a few thousand miles to move from the 22nd row of the Main Cabin to Delta Comfort+, one row behind First Class, where I knew there was enough room to cross my legs like I’m on a park bench or extend them as if at home sitting in a recliner. I looked at my phone from my bed and moved my left leg. I felt my knee pop. I hit the button and ordered the nicer seat. “The future is now!” I thought as I rolled over, then checked my 2-3 more times that the alarm on my phone was set correctly before finally falling asleep.

I was flying to visit my family in North Carolina, where I would ride from the Charlotte airport to my parents’ house in a fully-electric SUV, stuck the whole way behind gas-powered lowrider motorcycles and one massive Ford that billowed black smoke from silver exhaust pipes sticking up like goalposts on the back of the truck’s cab. All the while, I’d see how developed the suburbs of Charlotte were becoming, whole blocks of houses and high-rises popping up like dandelions, covering what used to be open fields. I’d watch the Uber app on my phone continually update me on the status of the route, reestimating our ETA every few minutes as we sat in traffic. I would spend the ride glancing from my phone to the map on his dashboard, and wonder how we ever survived before GPS. Between the airport and our destination, we made all but 3 turns.

Before any of that happened, though, before any of the thoughts about watching the future blossom all around me while the past angrily revved its fossil-fueled engines up and down I-77, I had to survive the flight from NYC to Charlotte.

As I scanned the bright open space at JFK, I saw a freckled woman my age sitting alone covered in a yellow blanket. She appeared to be on the verge of tears. Since I was about to take my own emotionally taxing trip, one to see my sick father while his pain was still somewhat manageable, I considered asking simply if she was OK. Then I saw her take out her phone to text someone, and suddenly I couldn’t gauge if she was sad or severely hungover. I remembered that airports (outside the Midwest) aren’t for chatting up strangers. She was in her own little world and didn’t need a man’s halfhearted prying. Everyone in the airport was in sweatpants and pretending they were in their living rooms, pretending to be alone on the couch instead of sitting in a wide room with a hundred other miserable tired people. My attention turned to the black toddler in a green shirt stomping on the bright white linoleum and laughing. He was in a better mood than any adult I could see from my vantage point. His mom called him and said it was time to get on the plane.

We idled at the gate for twenty extra minutes after everyone was in their seats. I read a book on my phone and smiled to myself when I realized the plane door was closed, meaning no one else would be joining me in my row, hence the desperate offer from Delta the night before asking if I wanted a seat for much less than the price when I had originally bought the ticket. This was going to be the most comfortable flight I ever took. The only issue was that several people had left their window covers open, and the Sun was starting to heat up the cabin. A child directly behind me complained to her grandma about her discomfort, a baby cried from the back of the plane, and the toddler I had seen earlier, sitting on his mother’s lap three rows back, was wailing. The mother of the toddler was also traveling with her ailing mother who I’d seen pleasantly thanking the Delta staff earlier for bringing her to the plane in a wheelchair. They were both Southern black women wearing beige sweats from head to toe, and until this moment had spent the holding period at the gate pleading with the kid to “come on and be quiet now” and insisting to passengers around her that he usually doesn’t act this way on planes. I heard people around her say “It’s just fine” and “how old?”

A flight attendant, who I’d recently watched serve booze to everyone in First Class (why not, It’s 10:30 AM somewhere), warned over the loudspeaker that the routine demonstration on plane safety was about to begin. I always feel rude for continuing whatever I’m doing while another human being stands in the aisle showing me how not to die. Remembering to keep my seatbelt fastened during turbulence or to put my oxygen mask on before assisting others could save my life, and yet I sit there, fully ignoring the speech even as a member of the flight crew uses the plastic cover directly above my head to demonstrate how the yellow mask will flop down as we’re all screaming and crying and can’t remember our training. The flight attendant held the mask with both hands inches from my face and I kept reading. This dismissive attitude toward the safety speech is all the stranger when I remember that my biggest fear is dying in a plane crash.

I was once on a JetBlue flight that hit some rough air. I distracted myself by watching Marvel’s Iron Man 3 on the back of the seat in front of me (this was before I became a professional flyer and brought my own screens with me). There’s a scene in the movie where Tony Stark’s house is destroyed by a helicopter. Right before Stark successfully shoots down the flying assailant, the movie jumped abruptly to the next scene. JetBlue doesn’t edit anything sexy from in-flight entertainment, but they will cut anything that reminds you of your potential fiery death in a plane crash. When I noticed what had happened, I laughed to myself. How silly to think people would be scared by a Marvel movie. Then I thought, “maybe they cut those scenes because crashing is so common and they want you to forget. Why would they cut the scene if it weren’t an actual event that happens all the time?” I worked myself up over not seeing a plane crash in a movie while I was on a plane. I panicked over the absence of a frightening image. That’s how nervous I get on airplanes.Scary stuff.

We were at the step where the flight attendants walked the entire aisle with one hand sliding against the white plastic covers of the overhead compartments to make sure they were secure when the woman holding her crying toddler walked up to my 75%-empty aisle.

“I think if he had a little more room, he’d be fine,” she said to the flight attendant who already had her hands up defensively. “Can we take these empty seats if no one else is coming?”

“It wouldn’t be fair to the people who paid to upgrade.” The flight attendant shook her head as she spoke.

“Well, can I upgrade?” The woman asked.

Sternly, the flight attendant said: “It’s too late for that.”

The woman turned to go back to her seat, and in a huff said “I’m never fucking flying Delta again. Fuck this shit.” As she sat down in her seat, she claimed loudly “if I were a white woman, they’d give me that seat.”

Her mother sitting in the seat next to her backed her up: “I know that’s right.”

“Excuse me,” I said to the flight attendant, she leaned down, all teeth and painted eyebrows.

“Yes, sir?” she said.

“I’m happy to switch with her if it makes things easier.”

Before she could answer, the white grandma behind me objected “Yeah, nuh uh! - no, thank you!” Without looking in her direction, I put my hand up to block her face from my peripheral vision and thought “Adults are talking.”

I continued: “I understand not giving her a seat, but if I’m fine with it, it’s OK to swap, right?”

The flight attendant, with a smugness that reminded me of my Third Grade teacher, said “We don’t reward bad behavior.”

Read the rest here.

#lit #essays #essay #travel #fairness #writing #long post #long reads #funny #airport #sad #scary #amwriting #delta #dan wilbur #reading

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blueiskewl · 1 year

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Over 2,000 Ram Skulls Discovered in Egypt's Temple of Ramses II

Cairo — Archaeologists have announced the discovery of more than 2,000 rams' heads at the temple of the ancient Egyptian pharaoh Ramses II — a find that the man in charge of the dig said surprised even veteran Egyptologists and showed the endurance of Ramses' impact, as the skulls were left there a millennium after the pharaoh's rule.

A team of archaeologists with New York University's Institute for the Study of the Ancient World (ISAW) made the discovery in the city of Abydos, one of the oldest cities and richest archaeological sites in Egypt. It's located about seven miles west of the Nile River in Upper Egypt, some 270 miles south of Cairo.

The ram skulls were found stacked in the northern precinct of the temple, said Egypt's Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities, which announced the discovery on Saturday.

"We came across some random pieces of skulls first," Dr. Sameh Iskander, head of the ISAW mission, told CBS News. "We didn't know what they were, but as we continued our excavation and exploration, all of sudden we found a whole area filled with ram skulls."

"These are obviously offerings that were made to the temple of Ramses during the Ptolomaic period, which shows even 1,000 years after Ramses II, that he was still revered." Ramses II ruled over ancient Egypt for about 60 years before his death in 1213 BC.

Iskander explained that some of the ram heads were still mummified, while "others could have been mummified but the wrappings or the covers of mummifications were not there anymore."

The skulls were found among other objects, from papyrus to leather artifacts and statues, about six feet under the contemporary surface of the desert in what had been a storeroom of the ancient temple.

The large number of skulls found in the same place was "surprising even for Egyptologists," Iskander said.

"We are sure they were all dumped at the same time, so this was not an accumulation of skulls that were brought in over the years, but they came from somewhere else and were dumped into this magazine at some point for some reason which we don't know yet," he told CBS News. "It is significant because this place where they ended up is not just any place in the temple, so they were brought there for a reason. They were not just dumped in the desert but were inside this revered domain of the temple."

The archeologists also unearthed a large structure made of mudbricks with walls about 16 feet thick dating back about 4,200 years, to ancient Egypt's Sixth Dynasty.

"It is a major structure that will change our concept of the landscape of Abydos. This wall was built for something, it was at least 30 feet high." Iskander said. "We don't know exactly what this wall is. It's possible that this was a wall of the antient Abydos, which was never found. Could it be something else? Maybe, that's what we are working on now."

The mission also found other mummified animal remains, including dogs, goats, cows and gazelles.

Beside the massive structure, one very small object also captured Iskandar's attention.

"We also found a small bronze bell in excellent condition with the clapper, so we can hear the same sound of the ancient time. I was very happy to find it," he said. "It was probably used to mark a herd."

The head of the American mission, whose team has worked at the Abydos site since 2008, spoke to CBS News after traveling back to New York. He said a lot of research was still needed to find explanations for the latest discoveries.

"I hate to keep saying 'we don't know,' but this is the nature of archaeology. We keep working on findings that might lead to something, or not," he said, adding that he and his team may even need to "leave it to the next generation — they may have a better idea or other discoveries."

"Every year we have lots of finds and we come back very happy with the new finds, but we also come back with a huge sack full of questions," he said.

By Ahmed Shawkat.

#Over 2000 Ram Skulls Discovered in Egypt's Temple of Ramses II #city of Abydos #Ptolomaic period #archeology #archeolgst #ancient artifacts #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #ancient egypt #egyptian history #long reads

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mintgki · 2 years

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⚔️ — KQ FENCING CLUB

- [SCOUTING ONE MEMBER] .

Fencer!Seonghwa x Y/N / Reporter!Hongjoong x Y/N SMAU

PLEASE READ

—————

.ೃ࿐ Warnings: Swearing, toxic online behavior, inappropriate jokes, bullying, cheating (??) Mentions of depression, mental disorders, mental insanity, mentions of sexual harassment, misogyny, lots lots of drama.

— SYNOPSIS [HJ VER.]

- Kang Y/N is apart of the fencing team, known to be one of the strongest opponents to face she has a pretty high reputation. Known to be silent and more kept to herself, not a lot of people know about her. Which is why Kim Hongjoong is determined to get her out of her shell and interview her one day for the school newspaper and radio. One problem is he has a MASSIVE crush on her and has no control of his words around her, so he joins the fencing team himself to get closer to Y/N having no information on fencing prior.

— SYNOPSIS [SH VER.]

- Kang Y/N is apart of the fencing team, known to be one of the strongest opponents to face she has a pretty high reputation, especially around other fencing teams. Park Seonghwa envied you for multiple reasons, or so he believes. Seonghwa envies your power, your teamwork, your cooperation and really hates how smart, competitive, and pretty you are. He’s never gone against you in a battle but he’s had multiple meetings with you and not once did he get your attention. You seem to aggravate him constantly by doing absolutely nothing.

ೃ࿐ TAGLIST (or send an ask)

MAIN STORY

Fencing antis | Hongritos and dip | Popular kids 🥱

01 Don’t u have a mile to run

02 Gen LOSER

03 Be so F**KING fr

04 I applied.

05 Im feeling SEXY

06 PART 1: Beomgyu’s patience / PART 2: WISE WORDS OF YUNHO

07 PART 1: Hey God, it’s me again.. / PART 2: Saranghey girl

08 Seonghwa makes my a** itch.

09 Ratio + Counter ratio

10 William Shakespeare

11 Stop hogging the hoes

12 Silly shy mood

13 but y.

14 Best behavior

15 irrelevant

16 old married couple

17 pencil on paper

18 home of foe bee uh

19 I have ur IP address

20 ur mid

21 Herold Sherlock

22 Wikihow

23 My manifestations r working

24 WE 🆙

25 this mf is NOT spittin

26 how do ur friends like you

27 0 internet status

28 #SELFCARE

29 (1) #1 YN DEFENDER (2) CANCELLED LMAO

30 I aint do that💯

31 Kicked off

32 your parents dont love u

33 emotional distress watchlist

34 Ok

35 Wattpad

36 Rizzler

37 Park Mingi

38 Sidekick

39 Know ur place

40 NO JOB ALERT

41 Actively Gagging

42 WAR IS OVER

43 NVR BCK DOWN NVR WHAT?

…

- Hongjoong Route

- Seonghwa Route

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witchofthesouls · 1 year

Text

Imagine the cyberization process of Earth was a success, and then combined with so many Things either sleeping for endless eternity or sealed away so long that humanity no longer remembers outside of the glimpses in legends, myths, forgotten dreams, and haunting nightmares?

Along with a twist of the Unicron-is-Earth with Earth as a reflection/child/younger sibling of Unicron, the raw creative drive behind Chaos...

None of the Autobots and Decepticons are prepared to handle this. They find themselves upon an Earth that’s been reset to its far more savage, primal state (for what is metal but refined earth?) to a time where humanity shared the planet with Others. A cyberformed planet that still retains its immense biodiversity.

The endless expanse of deserts and wild fields, dense forests that tower over them with the metal trees so massive it rivaled a Titan, the immeasurable Depths of the oceans where none of the probes could even reach the bottom, just going down, down, and down until forcibly stopped-

The Ark, the ship that the Autobots on Earth had to abandon, remains lost to the sea. All tracking results in errors. All saved coordinates leads to landmasses or a layer that cannot be reached. Not even the strongest lights could pierce the dark, sunless waters.

The presence of humanity is still etched into the land. Cites of steel and concrete still stand. Empty and haunting with so many statues of once-humans captured in their last moments. Figures in distorted shapes; amalgamations of many into one massive dump of countless limbs with no beginning and no end. The living will soon learn not to venture into these haunting spaces...

Even the animals are different. A lurking intelligence in their eyes, some sharper than others.

The Autobots meet Raf’s eldest sister in the once state of California where she was studying in university. In the heart of the Mojave Desert. The Equivels are alive. All of them dragons, but Pilar is the most dangerous one of the siblings for she remembers everything-

Earth had been a hot spot of activity, there are ways to open doors and portals to Elsewhere. Some return, fundamentally changed and marked in a way that will never leave them. Many, however, do not.

She didn’t want to Remember. To intrinsically know that the inferno beneath her metal skin, the sigils embedded in her powerful armor, and the plasma hair that flares with the sun is due to the Bargain to return to home.

(The Bargain remains active, but that brings no comfort. The Dragon for Home; she regains her lost powers in a new world for this Earth is not her home.)

She’s grieving. She’s raging. < She’s been baptized by the Sun itself and been reforged from the fury of her pyre once more - >

Pilar wants to forget her life, all of it, to cast away her memories and return to the scorching sands beyond anyone’s sight, but Raf refuses to leave.

Raf screams, too, lost in his own senses and only a pup, refusing to budge out his alt-mode. The Autobots think it’s a Predacon frame. Yes and no; he has yet to earn his right to become a Dragon. He’s young; far too young to left alone and < there are many that salviate at such a delicious morsel. Little wyrm, lost and alone and so unguarded. >

The Autobots are left alone by the many Things that hunt in the night when Pilar starts bunking with them. The twisted shadows and insidious croons are held back by the heat of the high desert noon she emits, a pair of blue optics, bright and luminous for miles and miles, has strange shapes flickering in an otherworldly sight as they track the hidden…

The Decepticons don’t handle to the new world very well. It’s not a remade planet in Cybertron’s image and ready to move in. No, it’s still very much Earth in its old, unrecorded ages. The mines in the Nemesis’ systems are now useless or too unstable.

The Vehicons are being hunted when they leave the Nemesis. Shadows twisting unnaturally and creatures lurking in them. Dragging them down to the ravine and water edges, luring them to the undergrowth of the forests.

The ones found dead have armor plates wretched open, insides completely dry without a hint of Energon leftover, spark chambers pulled apart and empty.

(No one is there to warn them to beware of the dancing lights, to leave offerings to the trees, to keep to the established pathways, to never to wander into grass that’s taller than them.)

They're being W a t c h e d.

A few return with gazes skittering to the sides and EM fields too burning, blistering hot and Arctic cold; quieter, far more quieter than Before. In the right light, traces of gold, silver, and other rich hues would line their faces in strange, moving patterns.

Soundwave will be pitted against magical opponents that are delighted by his talents in the Mental Arts. Laughing and howling in abandonment when the mech figures out what is reality versus illusionary as they get a better grip on how Cybertronians perceive the world. They wish to see what is this one is truly capable of when properly nurtured…

Humanity still exists in a way. Remnants of Others still exist in human populations. Diluted yet slivers still active enough to derive certain talents, skills, and traits. Enough to be offered a choice…

The fae welcome their lost brethren and young hybrid descendants with open, hungry hands. Cooing over at the new-blood, so much like clay and ready to be worked into a masterpiece. Memories jumbled and wiped away like gossamer webs, so fragile and easily taken away. Crooning how they retain their short-lived, mortal old loves’ uniqueness: the brimming potential still potent in metal frames.

Less like clay, more like raw ore. Look at their precious treasures, lost like little lambs and stumbling like newborns, star-bright souls weeping at the pitiless world. Those tears are savored like fine wine as they put their little ones to sleep, they will teach how to use those new bodies for they are familiar enough with Clockwork and automatons < shapeshifter, oh shapeshifter; what form shall you take today >, how to rend with those claws and jagged teeth, the etiquette of the various Courts, and one day join the Hunt and feast in the glorious revel.

The sea calls with its haunting, unearthly song and accepts the drowned and cradles its lost children, metal or mud, it matters not to it. Colonies and communities heed their mother’s Call and come to reclaim.

And the world is pitiless being; its kindness can be so cruel. It doesn’t understands how its children can be maddened by grief and hearts so broken for it’s not the first time the cycle has been reset: and history repeats, the world rolls and rolls, again and again. It hums at the potential and heeds its own call: Adapt or Die. And so, monstrosities, from the depths of mortal nightmares and shattered souls, prowl upon the Earth once more.

The planet is Earth. Dirt and dust. Clay and coast. Land that touches the both air and ocean. Merciless and abundant. On this deadly planet, one could die from starvation while surrounded by paradise of food.

Earth has been born by a slumbering Unicron; its magma blood, bountiful seas, and rich veins of Energon, deeply guarded and so well hidden until now, feeds its hungry creations. Chaos calls to the dark god and Chaos courts its inhabitants, etched deep into crust and sediment, lovingly crafted into its wild fauna; the song of Conflict is a lullaby old as time itself.

It sees these metal interlopers, so foreign yet similar like a distorted mirror for Unicron and Primus are brothers; opposites, yet equals. It sighs and sings out to claim them as well even as Unicron churns beneath. For the Cybertronians had tried to claim it as their own first.

They will have their wish granted...

Of course it leads to a lot of tension with its direct creations, wild with freedom and aching for their Mudmen. Their short-lived, ridiculously adaptable kin made of clay and water.

< Then you shall replace them. Your people shall replace the Mudmen in all the ways it matters. >

#transformers #Transformers Prime #tfp #raf esquivel #pilar esquivel #soundwave #HUMANFORMERS #humans into cybertronians #body horror #cosmic horror #maccadam #Cyber!Earth #Unicron #creature #fae #minor character death

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darkwitch1999 · 1 month

Text

Parisian Mean Girls Headcannons

Sara Lemieux

Online Username: 👑HeadQueenofBitches0001👑

Head Bitch/Leader of the "Parisian Mean Girls". Though she prefers the term "queen".

She is the meanest and cruelest out of the four. Chloé Bourgeois is a saint comparing what this bitch has done.

Sara Lemieux is infamous for crushing the spirits of every one of her peers and can snuff out weakness from miles away.

She takes immense pleasure in tormenting those who are too "weak" and "pathetic" to fight back. At the same time, she does love the challenge of slowly yet surely trying to break someone's strong will.

A master manipulator; Sara knows how to turn even the closest of friends against each other and can wrap almost anyone around her perfectly manicured fingers, whether they be one of her peers or a teacher.

She can and will make anyone's life a living hell if they dare to cross her and not fall in line.

Sara considers herself a "massive deal" and superior to everyone around her. However, she never uses her wealthy status or family's influence to get her way, unlike Chloé Bourgeois.

She partook in both physical and social bullying of the students along with her group of followers and other assholes. Their favorite victims are Noelle Odeja and Marc Anciel.

The last act of cruelty that finally broke Marc and led him to switch schools was her idea.

Treats her friends/followers as if they were beneath her and often uses her talent for manipulation to make them think that they are equal and important individuals in their friend group (though they know their place in their friend group's hierarchy.).

Makes all the rules for their friend group, including that everyone in the group except her is required to wear a choker with a heart lock under the threat of social isolation and mass school shunning. She's pretty much demanding that her friends where collars to signify that she owns them.

Cerise Leroux

Online Username: 🐅❤️RubyTigress666❤️🐅

Not to be confused with Lila Rossi "Cerise".

The more physically aggressive and intimidating out of the "Parisian Mean Girls".

Considers her red "claws" as lethal weapons.

Can tear a book in half with her bare hands with ease. Many of Marc's journals suffered at her hands.

When she's not clawing at some poor unfortunate soul who called her red hair "fake" (which it is), she uses her charms to get people to do whatever she wants.

She knows that many of the male students at her school are attracted to her and she takes full advantage to manipulate them.

Cerise has been the source of disarray for many of the couples/crushes at her school. Planting seeds of doubt in their minds, making them believe their partner was being unfaithful, outing/mocking a few students' sexual orientations, etc.

Secretly, Cerise is a romantic and is a sucker for romantic genres.

She finds romantic comedies, television dramas, and fairytales entertaining, but she absolutely loves romantic tales that are told realistically.

Cerise is a massive animal lover. She loves all animals and will take it as a personal offense if somebody doesn't let her pet their animal for a few hours.

Cerise may not be above cruelty towards people, but she is highly against cruelty to animals.

After she graduates high school, she plans on pursuing a career in rescuing endangered animals and using her trust fund money to build sanctuaries and other facilities to help abused/endangered animals around the world.

Cerise told her "friends" about her passion for animals and her goals for the future once, and they all laughed in her face, calling her ideas "stupid" and "pointless". She never spoke about the topic again afterward.

Colette Lyon

Online Username: 🎭DramaEqualsLife🎭

President of the Drama Club

Acting and pretending to be a whole different person entirely comes as naturally to Colette as breathing.

Colette lives for middle school drama and is proud to create it every chance she gets.

Constantly spreads rumors around the school, regardless if they are true or false.

As soon as Colette found out about Noelle's father's affair, she immediately spread the story throughout the whole school and made sure that Noelle would be constantly harassed about it every day until Noelle transferred schools.

Sees herself as the "perfect actress", capable of playing any role or character she needs to fool and control others around her.

Uses her talent for putting up facades to regularly create drama among the student body.

If there was a competition for the best liar, Colette would definitely have an intense battle with Lila Rossi.

Colette has information/dirt on every student at her school and she is not above blackmail or revealing it at any given moment. Rumor has it that she even has a thing or two on a few of the teachers.

Colette has a history of stealing other students' diaries and private journals and reading them out loud to a crowd of people.

Colette has gotten her hands on Marc's journals/diaries a few times and has read his stories/private thoughts out loud, knowing that he was too timid and mortified with embarrassment to protest or fight back.

She has a half-brother who attends the same school as her, but they never acknowledge each other as siblings in public and nobody has yet to make the connection between them since they do not share the same last name.

Lavender Leyva

Online Username: 💜🎵LavenderMuse2000🎵💜

The gloomy, odd girl out of the "Parisian Mean Girls".

Often speaks in a monotone voice and has a stoic demeanor for the most part.

The least manipulative or cruel out of the friend group.

Lavender tends to stay out of physical confrontation, but she is not against social harassment.

While she doesn't actively try to bully anyone without the other girls starting it, she also doesn't do anything to stop them and watches the torment with a blank, unfazed look on her face.

Lavender prefers to be alone with her thoughts whenever she gets a break from middle school drama.

She loves to listen to songs with depressing or mysterious vibes and dreams of becoming a singer/songwriter one day.

Often acts as "lookout" whenever the girls and guys are bullying their latest victim, though she really doesn't care whether or not they get caught.

She lost the ability to care about anything years ago.

Her "friends" constantly point out how weird she acts and her interests are often subjected to ridicule, but it's not like she cares.

One thing she will never admit to is her secret love of horror movies and novels. After all, can't look like a hypocrite for always mocking Noelle about her horror obsessions.

Unlike the rest of the "Parisian Mean Girls" who are XY fans, Lavender HATES XY!!!!

"He's a fake lip-syncing, popstar wannabe who only got famous because he has a somewhat pretty face and he rode on his father's coattail his whole life. Even his music is as fake and talentless as him. He might as well be made of plastic because of how fake he is." -Lavender

Well, there you have it. More information on this quartet of bitches. I plan on doing the OC headcanon of the guys from their middle school who partook in bullying the other students with them soon. One day when I can finally get it together, I plan on featuring all of them in a miraculous ladybug fanfic, which will also reveal the effects that their bullying had on both Marc and Noelle, especially their last act of cruelty that was mentioned before that led to Marc switching schools. Fair warning: it was really bad. Feel free to share your thoughts about these four bitches. Don't be afraid to rip them to shreds.

@nerd-chocolate @artzychic27 @andromeda612 @msweebyness @imsparky2002 @princessbutterflysposts @arny20252

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paperanddice · 6 months

Text

This conversion is coming very early in my Kobold Press conversions as a request by one of my Patreon backers. He was looking for a 13th Age conversion for the devil shark for some water adventures, and the devil shark from the Creature Codex was a selected option for it. If you'd like to make your own monster requests, you can back my Patreon to add your voice!

Devil sharks are massive predators that can handle themselves in a fight with most other aquatic creatures. Aggressive and voracious, they gorge themselves on as much food as possible to sustain themselves through month or year long dormancies. Sea devils occasionally attempt to work with devil sharks, offering them sacrifices as food to curry its favor, though rarely can they actually direct one to targets to their advantage. Rather, generally they can simply buy themselves safety from the shark's predation - at least until they fail to provide enough food to satisfy it, at which point they become the next meal.

Inspired by the Tome of Beasts 1. This post came out a week ago on my Patreon. If you want to get access to all my monster conversions early, as well as access to my premade adventures and other material I’m working on, consider backing me there!

Pathfinder 2e

Devil Shark Creature 13 Gargantuan Aquatic Beast Perception +24; blood scent, scent (imprecise) 100 feet Languages Aquan, Telepathy 120 feet Skills Athletics +28, Intimidation +21, Stealth +21, Survival +24 Str +7, Dex +2, Con +6, Int +2, Wis +5, Cha +2 Blood Scent The devil shark can smell blood in the water from up to 1 mile away. Shark Telepathy (mental, telepathy) The devil shark can communicate telepathically with sharks within range of its telepathy. It can communicate only simple concepts like “come,” “guard,” or “attack.” AC 32; Fort +25, Ref +21, Will +22; +1 status to all saves vs. magic HP 236; Immunities cold; Resistances fire 15 Speed swim 60 feet Melee jaws +28 (reach 10 feet), Damage 3d12+13 piercing plus Improved Grab Melee tail +28 (reach 15 feet), Damage 3d8+11 plus Push 15 feet Breach [1 action] (attack, move) The devil shark Swims up to its swim Speed, then Leaps vertically out of the water up to 25 feet high, making a Strike against a creature at any point during the jump (this lets it attack a creature within 35 feet of the water’s surface or 40 feet with its tail). After the Strike, the shark splashes back down into the water. Freezing Breath (cold, magical) The devil shark sprays supernaturally cold water that deals 11d8 cold damage in a 60-foot cone (DC 32 basic Reflex save). A creature that fails the save is also pushed 10 feet away from the devil shark (or 20 feet on a critical failure). Savage [1 action] Requirement The devil shark hit with a jaws Strike on its most recent action this turn. Effect The creature the shark hit takes 3d12 slashing damage. Swallow Whole [1 action] (attack) Huge, 3d8+7 bludgeoning, Rupture 24

13th Age

Devil Shark Large 4th level wrecker [beast] Initiative: +8 Jagged Jaws +9 vs. AC - 20 damage. Natural Even Hit: The target is swallowed if it’s smaller than the shark (see below). Miss: 10 damage. Slashing Tail +9 vs. AC - 15 damage. Quick Use: The shark can make this attack as a free action if it has no enemies swallowed after making a jagged jaws attack during its turn. C: Freezing Breath +9 vs. PD (1d4 nearby or far away enemies in a group) - 15 cold damage. Natural Even Hit: The target pops free from each enemy it’s engaged with and loses its next move action. Miss: 5 cold damage. Limited Use: 1/battle, when the escalation die is 2+. Blood Frenzy: The devil shark gains a bonus to its attacks and damage equal to the escalation die when it attacks staggered enemies. Creatures with no blood (constructs, oozes, plants, many undead) don’t trigger this ability. Swallow Whole: While a creature is swallowed whole, it takes 4d6 acid damage at the start of its turn, and is stuck, hampered, and unable to attack or affect anything outside the shark’s stomach (and vice-versa). It can attack the shark’s stomach from inside, but any weapons it uses have their damage dice reduced to d6’s if they were higher. If the shark takes 15 or more damage during a single turn, it must make a hard save (16+); on a failure, it is forced to regurgitate all swallowed enemies and spits them out somewhere nearby. Swimmer. Resist Cold 16+. AC 19 PD 18 MD 14 HP 120

#pathfinder 2e #13th age #homebrew #my homebrew #monster #beast #Creature Codex #pathfinder level 13 #13th age level 4 #long post

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the-90s-music-colosseum · 6 months

Note

I know none of this is very serious. But re: trying to make the polls equal through having equal amounts of propaganda, and then acknowledging that very few people who followed you wanted to write effusive praise for Lauryn Hill and Selena despite their iconic trailblazer status... like why do you think that is? Why don't they have more propaganda. Not asking to put you on the defensive. It's just sad because obviously both of those women have made such a massive impact on the musical world. And they're both so fucking beautiful. It should be undeniable how beautiful they are. But living in a racist world means so many people as beautiful as them are seen as ugly no matter what. I know no one is looking to a Tumblr poll for any kind of meaningful verdict. It's just a game. But people are going to be sensitive to this kind of comparison. It makes me think of people playing hot or not in high school, or rating people out of ten. When race gets involved, and when there's even an unconscious hint of appeal to a certain "objective" ideal of beauty, one that we're all immersed in and have to work to deconstruct every single day... then people are going to take it personally.

I can see that. It's hard to ignore the societal issues often connected to the concept of beauty and how this can be linked to how a certain internet poll presents a certain two participants.

Regardless, what I consider the main problem is the people who decide to insult others because of their taste in a clearly subjective-opinion poll. The poll ratios are clear to see- the women are winning by miles, three of them in racial minorities, and yet there are still so many users blasting anyone who finds the men more attractive or sends propaganda for them. There's a deeper conversation to be had about race and beauty but in this case the big issue is still about why everyone's so mean to each other.

#most attractive 90s musician #asks

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gainprincess · 10 months

Note

4 and 21 for Coral and Baobhan Sith

"Like I'm saying, Bao, the problem here isn't that I'm 20 pounds heavier."

"Well, I sure think it fuckin' is! You look way weirder now, Coco!"

"Guh...You're the worst."

Coral, a student from the most prestigious preparatory school in Salisbury, got into the world-renowned University of Fae Britannia through scholarships earned via rigorous testing and academic excellence, and is proud of that fact. To enter the school has been her dream since she was young, and pursuing a career in Business is something she actually really enjoys.

"At this rate, you might never get a guy!~ You'll be a spinster like Old Lady Totorot if this weight keeps up!~"

Baobhan Sith, on the other hand, has taken full advantage of her status as a princess, and got into UFB off of a lot of paid donations, and fumbled through high school with a 2.1 at the best of times.

The two seem like total opposites, but they actually get along quite well.

"If you'd look in a mirror, Bao, you'd realize that my inflection is on I in that sentence for a reason."

Coral, who's only gained about 20 or 30 pounds, wears them really well. They pad out her incredibly thin frame in a very balanced manner, making her look more curvy and mature, and it's attracted her a lot more attention from girls and guys alike.

She likes Sith's honest nature, and the way she just bluntly, rudely shares her opinions on things. It's refreshing for Coral, who's spent half of her secretarial internships trying not to get fired for telling someone a single thing that could be slightly negative.

"You tryna say somethin', Coco? I know you aren't suggesting that I've gotten fat."

Well...she has. Incredibly so. Her habit of stress-eating, combined with all the lazing about she does thanks to having online classes, has made her very obese. She has trouble walking half a mile without losing breath, she belches after nearly every bite of food, and she can no longer see her chunky legs (or anything below her waist) below the massive, clapping udders she has, and the light-gray gutflab that covers half her thighs. Howevere...

Denial is strong. Baobhan Sith likes that Coral picks up after her, challenges her on things, and always lets her have the last slice of pizza.

Maybe they should try making things more equal but...

"That's it, I'm putting your makeup kit on the top shelf."

"The hell'd you- HWWWURRRRRP - say?!"

#muse: coral #muse: baobhan sith #readyplayerziggy #baobhan sith is either completely in denial that she's obese #or she's super turned on by her obesity #no in between

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crystalelemental · 1 year

Text

As usual, here's the Gauntlet sweep, with some discussion of Variety Lorelei's performance.

General Overview For full disclosure, all of this is 1/5 Lorelei. I put in the 7500 gems, and am not yet ready to hand her candy, although I will admit, candy would change her entire life by miles. Hilariously, not for any of the reasons I suspected.

The CS clear indicated something critical to me: Variety Lorelei functions best when she's completing the setup, not doing all of it. MPRs are not her friend, because she needs to be attacking to heal. MPR on her trainer move in particular does very little, and double Endurance would require her to hold off on using it until later, which rarely comes into play. This maintains. However, the more interesting angle is that under no composition was I going man. I sure wish Lorelei could debuff defense right now. Instead, the concern was usual "Oh god I sure hope this heals like three times, and recharges all five gauges."

Lorelei is slow as shit and her base healing is wildly inconsistent despite okay odds. Inconsistency in these two factors means that she feels like she most wants the consistent aspects of First Aid 4 and Fleet Feet, to solve her tendency to get run over and inability to sustain gauge in Gauntlet. Punishing Strike, even aside from its inconsistency, is just...not what she most wants. No team was struggling because of lack of defense drops; they struggled because Lorelei can't heal them, and can't sustain herself. Barring one comp, it's not the optimal pick. First Aid/Healthy Healing/Fleet Feet is. Trainer Move MPR can be used, but it should only be when your ally cannot buff crit rate at all. Having Vigilance on grid would also have been massive, because it's the biggest distinguishing feature from Bruno. Status Immunity or Head Start changes a ton for Lorelei.

Basically, Lorelei in CS doesn't get much time to attack, and is really there for a quick three-turn rotation. MPR on X Atk All is nice just for Fleet Feet boosts, but is otherwise non-essential. Lorelei in Gauntlet really craves consistent healing and gauge control, and the defense drops do not at all feel like her best trait.

Vs. Tapu Bulu I decided to bring Nate, as someone who can buff himself to cap but is in need of help. Tech Kangaskhan helps out with defense drops and flinch rate. As you can tell from the HP, the team handles it fine. Lorelei is surprisingly good against Bulu, thanks to her high defense, ability to heal, and most importantly, Protect against Wood Hammer. A few well-timed flinches can go a long way. Nate, as usual, is not too impressive. I want him to have help, because they all deserve it, but if it's much better than Caitlin's I'm gonna be mad.

Vs. Uxie This is the dumbest one. Initially, I tried with Halloween Morty. The reason for this is, base Morty's main attack is special, and his sync involves boosted evasion. Which means he has to use his trainer move repeatedly anyway, and Lorelei isn't saving time. But physical ghosts are rare, so my only other options were Acerola (no), or Halloween Morty. And H!Morty at 1/5 was not doing it. A large part of the issue is constant healing and the pressure of MP. If Uxie isn't burned (bar 2), you don't regenerate MP, and Morty literally cannot harm the opponent. Which sucks, and is game-ruining. So, back to base Morty. Who is a lot better, even if it's sub-optimal. This is the only instance where Lorelei's defense debuffs would have been nice.

Vs. Azelf Bug is another pretty bad type to play with Lorelei. Noland and Guzma are both options that appreciate the boost, but their sync nukes aren't exactly spectacular, and Azelf is fast-acting, so the entire team relies on sleep chaining anyway. Which I always feel is a bit less...useful. Agatha was chosen for the speed buffing, which...this team is slow. It's a problem.

Vs. Latios Apparently it's a base Iris kinda day. Iris actually does pretty well against Latios' fight, taking down the sides with some ease, and trucking Latios itself. I brought Wulfric for some disruption. His sync on the last bar dealt like 9k. It was super sad. I tried to get an Avalanche in to see his DPS, and Iris killed it before he could. So...oops, I guess.

Vs. Moltres I tried this with someone like Cynthia and it wasn't really working. The timing is atrocious. So instead, we have to do this with good old flinch under Sun. Roark rules, and Whitney has enough speed to actually handle the gauge. That said, if we could get Fleet Feet on Lorelei, this would've been even stronger.

Vs. Regirock Another Whitney combo. Gloria has Sharp Entry and Fierce Entry 2, meaning Lorelei perfectly caps her needs. Gloria's damage output is tremendous for this fight; her grid expansion at 4/5 really did significantly bolster her damage. That said, flinch is still necessary, and gauges are a rough time with Gloria, so Whitney and her speed buffs are ideal.

Vs. Terrakion Courtney is a solid partner to V!Lorelei, as Lorelei provides literally every stat boost that Courtney needs with minimal issue. The problem is gauge. Again. Pep Rally. Janine was brought along because I'm so very tired of flinch, and the Venom Drench approach seemed sound. Unfortunately, Terrakion still hits like a truck, and Lorelei dropped. Because 1/5 and no consistent healing. You get the idea.

Vs. Cobalion This was, by far, the scariest, and the most easily fixed by Lorelei having better options. Poison Jab is a non-issue with Status Immunity. First Aid 4 alone would've kept her from dropping so early. No problems would exist if she had this. Anyway. Silver's another solid pick, because she can cap out the needed offenses for him, conserving his second trainer move for an SEUN application in Bar 2 to avoid full burn immunity. I mean. Obviously it didn't turn out that way. But you know. Thought that counts.

Vs. Latias Champion Iris is another one of those fantastic, almost ideal picks to partner with Lorelei. One use of her trainer move is +2 Atk/+1 crit, which is exactly what Lorelei supplements to cap. This was also the funniest run I've ever had, because Iris just kept OHKOing Latias on sync, while Kangaskhan flinched the sides.

Vs. Entei Lodge Silver is another ideal partner to Lorelei, needing her exact buffing kit to succeed. Tech Lickitung is also a great partner, thanks to Screech debuffs and the Trap condition to set up Interference Sync 5. There's nothing particularly special about this clear, but I think Silver does well with Lorelei, and this is one of the instances where Lickitung could've been swapped for any Confuse/Trap pair, and Lorelei's defense debuffing could have been useful.

Vs. Tornadus And finally, Tornadus. I hate this fight. I initially thought about BP Sophocles, but Wild Charge kills him quick, and there's no healing. So, I had to pick a different physical option, and it's like...N is fine on self-setup, Sophocles needs crit she can't provide, so I guess it's Marnie. An important note, my Marnie is 2/5 non-EX, so her sync is sad because she's got nothing behind it, please understand. That said, it was enough to get the job done. Marnie's pretty solid as a partner, needing only one use of trainer move for the +1 crit and +2 attack while in Hangry mode, while Aura Wheel's speed buffs help out. Nanu was brought along to debuff, since Marnie's Hostile Environment 5 on Thundershock leaves it with a 60% rate. Which is why it missed the paralysis so often.

#sync pair testing #variety lorelei

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highcaliberhxrserescue · 11 months

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A New Rescue Has Arrived~!

Registered Name: Merlin's Mighty Mouse

Barn Name: Mouse

Breed: Belgian Draft Horse

Sex: Gelding (Castrated Male)

Age: 27 years old

Heights: 18.3 hands high (6 ft 6 in at the shoulder)

Weights: 2600 lbs

Coat Color: Blue Roan

Mane/tail Color: Black

Eye Color: Brown

Auction Tag: #4471

Occupation: Dude Ranch Horse, Rescue Project at Hi-caliber Horse Rescue

Dam (Mother): Merlin's Midnight Maiden {Belgian Draft Mare, Black}

Sire (Father): Treasure Mouse's Merrit {Belgian Draft Stallion, Blue Roan}

Current Status: Rescue Horse, Needs A Forever Home

Special Abilities: Can talk to humans.

Temperament:

Mouse, despite his gargantuan size, is one of the most gentle and quiet-minded horses anyone could hope to find. He is completely bomb proof, with no spook in him whatsoever.

While he may be massive, Mouse is a horse that moves with power and purpose in every step, never missing a beat to listen to his rider's cues. He loves to have a job and though he is laid back and kind, is far from lazy. He is a very flashy old horse with a lot of try and willingness to please, but is quiet enough that even the most inexperienced riders would be perfectly safe to ride upon his back.

Mouse may be old, but he still has lots of life left in him and will hopefully find a loving hope to spend the rest of his golden years.

History:

Born and raised on a small dude ranch, Mouse proved from a very early age to be very useful as a trail riding and lesson horse. He never once bucked, kicked, or offered to bite, nor did he ever pin an ear or give a nasty look to anyone.

However, after he turned four years of age, the dude ranch he lived on ended up being sold and all of the horses were auctioned off. Many horses ended up finding long-term or forever homes, however Mouse wasn't quite so lucky.

He was passed around from auction to auction, home to home, and came in contact with many different people of all skill levels. Some homes forced him to endure relatively harsh treatment, while others were kind and loving.

Through it all, Mouse kept his gentle and kind temper, never batting an eye at whatever was to come next.

Finally, at the age of 10 years old, he was surrendered to High Caliber Horse Rescue by a kind elderly couple who simply could no longer afford to care for him.

Now, at the ripe old age of 27 years old, Mouse is the longest-standing resident of the horse rescue and is still patiently waiting to find his forever home.

He would be a perfect horse for someone looking to give an older horse a job and a soft landing in his golden years, but don't let his age fool you. This old man still has a lot of miles and life left in him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#new rescue #{Old But Gold;; Mouse}

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mesywelch · 1 year

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A Night with Sherlock Holmes

Paring: Sherlock Holmes (BBC) X Reader

Summary: Reflecting on your time with Sherlock Holmes as he plays his violin deep into the somber night leads to a few realisations.

Warnings: None

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Gracefully the sun descended down the murky blue sky, travelling with a never-ending burst of bright colour around its powerful body. As it exited the now empty canvas of the darkest shades of blue, a sense of lethargy encompassing its movements as if hanging so high above had drained all of its energy, it passed on its reign to its considerably smaller partner—the moon and its massive army of sparkly, blinking stars. The buildings of London cowered under a thick shadow of gloom, and the moon's white light miserly illuminated the occasional window or passerby. The restrictive view I was presented with of the outside world through my sharp-cornered window wasn't much to keep my attention at nightfall; when the ever-busy human race collectively packed away into their abodes, the long-winding roads of London experienced nothing but isolation from the rickety vehicles for the first time, and when the only living being garnering the spotlight of the street lights were squeaky rats.

However, I needn't worry, as I always had Sherlock to make my boring, sleepless nights worthwhile.

Unlike the rest of the population, Sherlock functioned uniquely. While the average adult might find himself occupied by a heavy load of work during the day, burdened by the clutches of financial stability, like I found myself reviewing and organising shelves upon shelves of books and archives, Sherlock never bothered with money. In fact, he conducted his job free of cost, without any expectations of receiving something in return because the immense satisfaction he experienced merely by taking part in the mind games that his job presented him with were returns enough.

When deconstructing the sometimes complex logical reasonings, sometimes baffling — to Sherlock, trifling — emotions behind brutal crimes, one might picture chaos and panic; an urgency to not waste time for danger could be thrust upon you at any moment. Taking one look at Sherlock would certainly ruin that weirdly picturesque image.

I distinctly remember the case of the mysterious chain of supposed suicides or "Study in Pink", as our fellow companion John Watson had titled it in his blog; victims consuming the exact same pill seemingly with no reason to end their lives nor any apparent connection with each other. Clues weren't adding up, the only leads we had were dead ends, and John's features were corrupted by worry as he entered the room we occupied; he appeared as though he had seen a ghost (which later we found out was actually not a ghost but Sherlock's brother, Mycroft). The atmosphere was tense, but amidst the room existed a presence that stood in complete contrast. Sherlock — oh, Sherlock — laid horizontally inclined on his well-loved, dented couch, tightly wrapped in his blue night robe, and pale bony hands pressed together under his chin. His being emulated a sense of level-headedness, composure and cool - eyes shut, mouth slightly hung open, and body still as a statue. At the time, I admired and admittedly envied his attitude towards stressful situations that he displayed constantly. But, the passage of time taught me that I had just fallen into the illusion that he was this perfect, mystical, awe-inducing kind of being, as one might get the impression of upon first meeting him. Spending a little more time with him, however, can show you a lot of fine details that previously went undisclosed. Like the uneven furrow of his eyes-brows when he stared off into space and the off-beat tick of his fingers upon paper as he went over case reports.

How much ever Sherlock might not show it (saying it was a whole other matter), his mind was forever running miles faster than anyone could even comprehend, only visible to the naked eye through small signs of physical reactions like these. His brain was a machine, efficient and observant to the highest degree. But unfortunately, the comparison could be drawn further. He was cold and soulless, seemingly made of scratch-less metal. His words were prone to the blunt, the straightforward, and the truth. And these tendencies frequently kept contact away — if there was one thing I learnt in my time with him, it was that people loathed being presented with an honest reflection of themselves.

Despite this, Sherlock was still undeniably human. However deep one may have to peel off the layers of his skin to come across it, there was undoubtedly pulsing flesh, hot red blood and a beating heart underneath that façade of impassiveness. And this heart, like any other creature, yearned for something Sherlock would label a major flaw in human patchwork. It yearned for passion — In whatever form it may be derived, even if he didn't realise it himself.

For instance, as he stood staring at the same window I was gazing through moments ago, inspecting the bland atmosphere, a set empty of actors, his long fingers delicately held a bow, dragging it across the strings of his violin. With each movement, with each pull or push of the strings, he created a melody velvety smooth, and he and I bathed in its depth. The notes he played were the only trace of life in the air, for we were nothing but objects in its presence, invisible artists hiding behind the awe-inspiring art. That was the passion Sherlock allowed himself to absorb — the kind that spoke for itself and connected souls in ways no words nor actions could. At first, I used to believe that it wasn't particularly his fault if no one was around long enough to realise this, to realise how Sherlock worked. But looking back, perhaps it was Sherlock himself who didn't allow anyone to do so.

I clutched the fluffy blanket tighter around me, folding my knees towards myself in order to maximise comfort on the sofa I occupied. Memory betrayed me as I tried to recall the day's events, draping a cloud of fog over the images of what were supposed to be work, faces, and... I couldn't swat the white mist away. It always was the case during the night, more specifically when I was joined by the company of Sherlock in the living room. It was like the past blurred itself just so that the present could be ever-clear and sharp. I usually gave in, deciding to take in as much as I could of these moments that littered my life sparingly.

The clock ticked away in the background, its repetitive beat further making me over-conscious of the now. Dragging my lidded eyes away from the monotone city sights out the window, I glanced across the extinguished fireplace, the unlit lamp sitting on top of it, the rotten, yellowing figure of Sherlock's skull right beside it — teeth gleaming under the moonlight — and then the dark kitchen. Followed the door that led past it, an imaginary image of me walking through the hallway to the room at the far end, and finally, John lying somewhat peacefully under the sheets, deep breaths echoing along the walls.

John was never a witness to our nightly sessions. The retired soldier, traumatised by but yet incredibly drawn to the war, the battle, and the chaos, was one to surprisingly follow the average human sleep schedule. It was shocking, really, how he was never woken up by the striking sounds of Sherlock's violin despite having a keen sense for noise. But sometimes, I had the innate feeling that he intentionally ignored it. I was glad he did, though, because how much ever affection I held for the man, he was the kind of person inclined to overthink, doubt, and suspicion. These three words were perfectly apt to describe Sherlock as well, but John's were a slightly varied nuance.

While Sherlock utilised his skill to question everything for his own benefit, John, nine times out of ten, sabotaged himself while doing so — erupting unnecessary worry and distress. A comforting, borderline pin-drop silence like the one settled in the atmosphere as Sherlock ended the piece (an untitled, self-composed one), and slid his pearl blue irises to latch onto mine would only encompass John in discomfort. The anxious aura radiated by his presence would then shatter the calm so intricately constructed by the mutual understanding between Sherlock and me.

It sounds too dramatic, too hyperbolic, I'm well aware, but no other means could convey how meaningful these overnight hours were to me and my sanity in this dying world. I would really like it if John continued to remain oblivious to them. Or pretend oblivious, I suppose.

Sherlock gingerly placed his violin on the couch beside him.

"The only time I can think is when the rest of London wasn't— too occupied by sleep." He spit the word like it was poison on his tongue. "Why is that not surprising in the slightest?"

I let his words hang in the air, pondering his question. Sherlock often found himself susceptible to the meaningless, unimportant thoughts of those around him. It was like he could hear them out loud, like he could read minds. However, such supernatural diction might be disapproved of by Sherlock.

In his own words, 'trivial expressions depicting stress, confusion, ignorance and whatever definable emotion you can think of on people's faces are nothing but translations of inner feelings and thoughts.' And Sherlock being the ever-observant and present person he was, was even more exposed to these signals than the average person — disrupting him from continuing his original train of thought.

He did, although, also confide in me that for people like Anderson, whose idiocy plagued the very world around them, signals weren't required to get the gist of whatever nonsense was going through the pea brain of theirs.

"I'm going to assume that I am exempt from this rest of London you speak of?"

A side-eye; not a trace of hesitance in his voice. "Obviously."

"Hm."

Sherlock went back to analysing whatever he could of the scenery outside. I went back to analysing him. It was a past-time I took part in often, sometimes hours passing by before the bubble around me popped, dropping me harshly back into reality.

It has occurred to me here and there that I may be in love with this man.

Love. Even muttering the word under my breath felt unfamiliar to me, a person who never really cared about fleeting emotions like those.

But it had to be love. Because surely— surely, no one spent as much time as I did picturing Sherlock and his tall frame playing the violin with such grace and care just as he was moments ago — his elegant movements like that of a lily swaying in the wind. Surely, no one understood the sensation that took over my being when his eyes settled on me with such intention and purpose, whether I was looking or not. No one endlessly wondered about what may be running through his one heck of a brain as he deduced a man's whole life story by a mark on the cuff of his shirt— God.

God.

Consciously thinking about Sherlock made me put into picture how much of a miracle he actually was. What I was capable of imagining had to be just a fraction of what he was capable of doing. I loved knowing that he was somewhere above all of us. I loved it.

Sherlock was an enigma, and if it was my life purpose to try and understand him completely, I would certainly do so. Whether what I felt for Sherlock was true love (if that even existed) or a manic obsession of sorts, whether Sherlock even felt anything in return, for I never considered what his opinions of me could be, whether he was even aware of the intensity of the spell he put me under—it didn't matter— I would stick with him.

It was only when my eyes caught the rectangular sheet of light draping over the couches, the books, the papers, and the mess of the living room, that I came to realise that it was the dawn of the new day already.

I stood up unsteadily, cloth-covered feet coming in contact with the carpeted ground, the soft thump of the thick blanket falling behind me onto the floor. My body wobbled as I moved forward towards the window where Sherlock also stood—his position altering between the window and the sofa opposite mine throughout the night. Goosebumps instantly arose across the bare skin of my arms and legs, and I shivered. But I didn't think the physical reactions were caused by the chilly wind.

The early spurts of yellow spread along the horizon like watercolour, rapidly claiming domain in the sky. Soon, the golden sun followed, its body obstructed by the buildings around. I squinted my eyes as I accidentally stared straight at it, but I couldn't look away—the celestial body marked the end of my shared solitude with Sherlock, but it did so mesmerisingly, glowing brightly and ejecting rays on earth, pumping life into the cement. The only sight that could beat the magnificence of the sun, unfortunately, was standing right beside me, and so I eventually found myself staring at sherlock's marble-carved face instead, a hint of a smile tugging at the edges of his pale blush pink lips as he marvelled at the sight in front of him.

It seems as though even Sherlock, the ever-placid Sherlock himself, couldn't resist the delicious temptations of nature — the ultimate source that manifested passion within him. The kind that spoke for itself.

As Sherlock tentatively reached out the fingertips of his hand to garner the attention of my own, slowly swinging them to give me momentary but frequent contact, I thought about how one man – and a man he only was – altered my life entirely in the span of months, making my old life seem discoloured and pointless compared to what I was blessed with now. My undefinable feelings towards Sherlock would only grow as time passed, and even if I lose him — I will try my hardest not to, in the first place — I would not mourn. Instead, I would be thankful that I got a chance to have him in my life. I would be satisfied knowing that a person like him walked the earth.

The sun rose higher and higher, and at the distinct voice of John Watson questioning our presence out in the open at such ungodly hours, Sherlock's hand left mine.

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sportsufc24 · 3 months

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The Thrilling Legacy of NASCAR's Daytona 500: A Legendary Race of Speed, Strategy, and Spectacle

For over six decades, the Daytona 500 has stood as the cornerstone of American motorsports, captivating audiences worldwide with its blend of high-speed action, strategic prowess, and heart-stopping drama. As NASCAR's premier event, the Daytona 500 transcends mere racing; it embodies the spirit of competition, tradition, and excellence on the grandest stage of stock car racing.

Since its inception in 1959, the Daytona 500 has etched itself into the annals of sporting history, earning a reputation as "The Great American Race." Held annually at the iconic Daytona International Speedway in Daytona Beach, Florida, this event marks the official kickoff of the NASCAR Cup Series season, setting the tone for the months of intense competition to follow.

The allure of the Daytona 500 lies not only in its status as NASCAR's marquee event but also in the unique challenges presented by the 2.5-mile tri-oval track. With its high banks and wide turns, Daytona International Speedway demands precision, skill, and nerves of steel from drivers as they navigate the track at speeds exceeding 200 miles per hour.

But it's not just the sheer velocity that makes the Daytona 500 a spectacle to behold; it's the unpredictability of the race itself. From spectacular crashes to dramatic finishes, every lap brings the potential for excitement and intrigue. Whether it's the "Big One" – a massive multi-car wreck – or a photo-finish dash to the checkered flag, the Daytona 500 never fails to deliver heart-pounding moments that keep fans on the edge of their seats.

Beyond the on-track action, the Daytona 500 is steeped in tradition and ceremony. From the pre-race festivities to the singing of the national anthem and the iconic phrase "Gentlemen, start your engines," every aspect of the event adds to its mystique and grandeur.

Moreover, the Daytona 500 serves as a showcase for the sport's biggest stars, from legendary drivers like Richard Petty and Dale Earnhardt to modern-day icons such as Jimmie Johnson and Jeff Gordon. These titans of the track have left an indelible mark on the race, each adding their own chapter to its storied history.

In recent years, the Daytona 500 has continued to evolve, embracing technological advancements, safety innovations, and a growing global audience. Yet, amidst all the changes, one thing remains constant: the enduring legacy of this iconic event and its status as the pinnacle of NASCAR competition.

As fans eagerly anticipate each new edition of the Daytona 500, they know they're witnessing more than just a race; they're experiencing a tradition unlike any other – a celebration of speed, skill, and the relentless pursuit of victory on the hallowed grounds of Daytona International Speedway.

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stagebranch58 · 4 months

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Flawless Louis Vuitton Replica

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