#perhaps my most camp edit ever

[actual-changeling]

I have written many meta posts and s3-theories, and read even more, but I got hit by an idea I have not seen before. (If there is another post, please link it!)

After vibrating for an hour and losing my mind in my dms, I have no scraped together enough brain cells to present what is probably my first actual 'main-plot meta'.

Welcome to another edition of Alex's unhinged meta corner, today with a title to honour Crowley's James Bond obsession and the possibility of another heaven heist.

I give you:

From Jesus with Love - You Will Live Twice

Now, let's get right into it.

I think Neil might have told us more about the main s3 plotline in the announcement article than we previously thought. We all got stuck on 'they're not talking'—for good reason—but it is the part before that which has been bugging me ever since then.

The plans are going wrong—and this time that is a problem for earth and humanity. Turning that around, it means that whatever that plan consists of would be the way to go and beneficial for everyone, the opposite of the main plot of s1.

"They need to prevent the Second Coming (SC)" is pretty much the only and most popular idea I have seen, hundreds of fics and metas and whatnot have been written about it, but I think there's a good chance we're wrong. If we're not, well, I will honestly just be happy to be watching season 3.

Whatever the Metatron is planning will have negative consequences for everyone, or as Michael puts it: "And so… it ends. Everything ends. Time and the world is over, and we begin Eternity… forever and ever."

It sounds very much like Apocalypse #1 - Same Old Plan, same expected result, yet if we look at different interpretations of scripture we find that the SC is not entirely about complete destruction and death for all of humanity—it is about creating a new world/migrating to the kingdom of God.

This is taken from the Wikipedia article about the SC

Resurrection and life in a world to come are a direct contradiction to the result Michael is explaining—total annihilation of humanity.

Now, I am neither religious in any way nor have I ever received any sort of biblical education. Luckily, Christians seem to love talking about the bible because there are dozens of bible website to wade through. If I get anything wrong, please point it out, I have never touched a bible in my life.

So, after reading many, many quotes by a bunch of different guys, I tried to create a somewhat coherent picture of what the SC might look like based on the assumption that the end result is positive. I will talk about how they can be interpreted more in-depth later, otherwise this would turn into a string-net very fast.

Additionally, we can also see where these points overlap with the statement Jimbriel gave in the bookshop in episode three.

What is Jesus' job description?

only God knows when and how exactly it will begin/happen, no one else does, including Jesus and the Metatron

a lot of different catastrophes are mentioned or quoted as something Jesus said, like earthquakes and storms -> Jimbriel mentioned a tempest and great storms

there is also the line "All these are the beginning of birth pains." Birth pains dictate that there will be a birth—birth of the world to come perhaps?

dead people will be resurrected/leave their graves so that they too can be judged (I'd say participate in it but that sounds like the Second Coming is a summer camp activity)

there are also mentions of stars and the heavens in general falling from the sky and the sun going dark -> Jimbriel also mentions darkness as one of the signs

great lamentations, as Jimbriel says, are also a part of many different passages, with humans mourning the world as it was

the Lord will descent with the voice of an Archangel and the sound of a trumpet/the trumpet of God; the grammatical structure of that sentence seems to be interpreted differently depending on who you ask, but the voices of angels/an Archangel and some sort of trumpet are common terms

once everyone is in heaven/wherever the 'main even' will take place, a judgement call will be made for every single person in relation to the book of life, which decides whether they will be punished forever or not (one passage talks about a lake of fire and mentions it several times in a row)

And this is where it gets tricky. To figure out what the SC looks like, we first need to understand a) what the Metatron's capabilities are, b) what he has to lose, and c) what exactly would be a threat to him.

If you ask me, all of this comes down to the Metatron wanting to stay and be in power for eternity with full control over angels so he can do as he please, aka keeping the system running as it is.

We know the book of life (bol) is a thing in the Good Omens universe, whether it does what Michael said is an entirely different question. So far, we have also only got confirmation that hell collects and tortures souls—in such large amounts that they are understaffed—while heaven looks completely empty.

The Metatron runs heaven as an institution, he seems to be the highest power any of the angels have access to and the one they defer to. He refers to himself as the voice of God and combines judge, jury and executioner, making him one great celestial dictator.

From what we know of hell, they do things a lot more democratically, having different councils, dukes, and ranks that are responsible for different levels of command.

We also know that that the Metatron wants the world to end, his goals can probably be summarized as the statement Michael makes, which would leave him in charge without any opposing forces.

We also also know that he sees Crowley and Aziraphale as a threat—why exactly remains a mystery for now—and that the success of his plan hinges on having a Supreme Archangel (SA) he can control. Gabriel decided to become princess of hell and Beez' sugar baby, so he was out of the equation, and after the Armageddon disaster, I don't think he wants to risk failing because of an unfamiliarity with earth (plus, y'know, getting our two idiots away from the plan).

It's interesting to me that right at the end, he says to Aziraphale "We call it the Second Coming"—call, not it is or it will be, CALL. We know that nothing Neil writes is a coincidence, definitely not with such an important line.

Just because you CALL something a specific name doesn't mean it IS what you call it, e.g. Aziraphale calls Crowley a foul fiend when we know he very much isn't.

The Metatron is selling his plan as part of the "Great/Ineffable Plan", so any questions can be blocked by saying it's God's will, it's ineffable. Whatever his plan is, he hides it behind the concept of the Second Coming, which angels know just enough about to understand the basics without having in-depth knowledge of what exactly it entails.

It is a good fucking strategy, I'll give him that, and it WORKS because angels—even if they have doubts—do not question. They simply don't; fear of punishment and millennia of conditioning have left them in a horrible place. When they encounter something unknown, their response is "I already knew that" as to not ask questions.

Crowley questions, we know that, and Aziraphale, ohhhhh, Aziraphale ALSO questions, but he does it in a less dangerous and obvious way. The Metatron is vastly underprepared for that.

(Side note: That alone would be its own meta post, but the gist is that he questions heaven's plans and then adjusts his assumptions of what God might want to what he WANTS God to want, e.g. Job, the Arch)

To summarize everything I just said, the Metatron wants to do what Armageddon failed to do—destroy earth and the universe—so he can be supreme dictator of all remaining celestial beings and gorge himself on power.

But instead of calling it his Big Evil Plan, he calls it the Second Coming, making everyone play along without resistance.

We cycle aaaaall the way back to the sentence I quoted—the ACTUAL plans are going wrong since the Metatron's would mean total destruction.

But what is the SC supposed to be if not the Apocalypse 2.0?

When I look at all the different aspects of the SC and assume a positive outcome, then the end result to me would be a new world that is pretty much like the old world, or maybe even literally the old world but with any destruction reversed. Heaven and hell get dissolved since now that everyone has been "judged", they as institutions are no longer needed, they have fulfilled their purpose.

No more judgement means there is no reason to keep track anymore, so why do you need to run celestial corporations whose only job is doing exactly that? You don't—and THAT is what I believe is the biggest perceived threat to the Metatron, losing full control over everyone and everything, losing his position, his title, and whatever else he has.

On top of that, Good Omens has told us again and again that God doesn't seem to give a fuck about good and evil anymore, and that without heaven and hell being all wrapped up in it, humanity would have 100% free will without any consequences.

Maybe the BoL is empty, maybe it isn't real, maybe Jesus stole it to straighten a wobbly table, who knows. There is a chance it is what Michael says, but I would admittedly find that a bit. too obvious and boring since it would boil the plot down to "they save their own asses again" and not "they save humanity at all cost".

Regarding Crowley and Aziraphale's role in this—I have Thoughts TM but those definitely need their own post. In short, they have to get the SC back on track, the real one.

-

If you have made it this far, thank you for working through what I hope are more or less coherent rambles. Any spelling or grammar mistakes are my own.

Questions? Thoughts? Corrections? Expansions and additions?

Feel free to add to this post however you like (and I can't believe I have to mentions this but if you clown on my post or behave like an asshole you will be blocked).

#alex talks good omens #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens meta #good omens season three speculation #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #good omens s3 #good omens speculation #good omens theories #metatrash #the second coming good omens #long post

[just-a-little-cellist]

Hey its me who asked for your The Unexpected Guest, and it was brilliant! I love the idea of part 2 it makes more sense!

I loved your idea of once they get to Rivendell Thorins and readers feelings are explored and some spicy stuff happens

Thank you, and love your work!☺️x

(I'm really glad you enjoyed it! I'm really sorry for the wait for part 2 - uni work, work work and writer's block are not a great combo and I didn't want to rush this (this part also got WAY longer than I thought it would), plus I've made some minor edits to part 1 since I wasn't totally happy with it - been a hot minute since I wrote smut so I hope this is ok :D thank you all for being so patient and I hope you enjoy!!)

(link for part 1 - warning for NSFW content below, oral (m receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it))

ghivashel - treasure of all treasures, amralime - my love

An Unexpected Guest pt.2 (Thorin x AFAB!fem!human!reader)

The journey to Rivendell was taxing on all of you, though you couldn't help but feel most sorry for Bilbo. The hobbit was so new to adventuring - you doubted he had ever been out of the Shire before now - and you had decided to support him wherever you could as a helping hand. Just helping him set up camp, saddling his pony in the morning, offering him water, little gestures seemed to make a difference in his demeanor.

Spending time with the hobbit to keep his morale up, especially after the troll attack, did mean that it was getting harder to find a spare moment with Thorin. The two of you had spoken much more frequently since his confession, and you wished for more time, but the whole group was in poor spirits as it was. While they were all happy for you, public displays of affection were just likely to irritate everyone further. And Thorin's burden of leadership would likely not be eased while you were still on the road. For the moment, all you could do was keep moving and offer comfort to whoever needed it.

Needless to say, arriving at Rivendell was a weight off your shoulders. Even if the dwarves tried to pick a fight with Elrond.

You had all taken your time to settle in and relax, having taken full advantage of the elves' hospitality (and you were forever grateful for being able to feel clean after the long journey). When the group of you were provided with dinner and the inevitable food fight broke out, you were happy to see how everyone's spirits had been lifted. However, you couldn't help but notice your One stood to the side. There was a content smile on his face, but you could easily see the tension that still bristled through him.

You soon found him after everybody had retreated to their rooms for the night. It was hard not to hear him - the pacing in his room seemed to echo through the hallway, if only slightly. Raising your hand, you softly knocked at the door, hoping that he wouldn't be too stubborn to talk to you.

"Come in."

Even his tone of voice betrayed his stress. He visibly relaxed when you entered the room though, shutting the door behind you, and you felt glad to at least be some comfort.

You smiled in greeting, and spoke softly. "Will you tell me what's going on with you?"

"I assure you, I am fine. Do not trouble yourself."

You closed the distance between you hesitantly, giving him the chance to back away, and took his hands. "Please, Thorin. I can see something is troubling you."

"I am just... concerned. About the future of this quest, about everyone's safety." You saw a struggle in his mind of not wanting to be vulnerable, but he seemed to give in, and sighed in defeat. "I fear that people are going to be hurt because of me."

"Oh, my love..." you breathed, pressing your forehead to his. "You are the best leader any of us could ask for, and I promise you that you will not be the cause of any hurt."

He gently pulled back and looked into your eyes. "You truly believe that?"

"Of course I do. Those in this company are strong and intelligent. Perhaps with the exception of your nephews," you chuckled, and Thorin couldn't help but smile. "They are all capable of making their own decisions. They knew the risks of coming along, but they have all chosen to join anyway because they saw a courageous dwarf that they wanted to follow."

"I only want to do right by my people."

"And you will. We all have faith in you."

He pressed his forehead to yours again. "You're far too good to me, ghivashel," he murmured.

"All I want is for you to be happy, my love."

And with that, you tilted your head up and kissed him, your fingers tracing his cheekbones as you pulled him closer. It wasn't rushed and clumsy, as it was when Thorin first confessed, but slow and loving, every movement of your lips against his a confession of love in itself. His hands found their way to your waist and pulled you flush against him, trying to feel as much of you as possible.

When you separated to take a breath, meeting his lust-filled gaze was all the encouragement you needed.

"I wonder if there's any way I could relieve some of your stress..." Your tone was playful as you slid your hands achingly slowly down Thorin's chest, and you heard him inhale as you stopped just at his hips.

"Amralime, are you sure? If we start I will not want to hold back."

"I trust you, Thorin." You smiled and nodded towards the double bed. "And we may as well take advantage of the luxury while we have it."

He smirked. "I'm beginning to think you came here just to bed me."

"Hey, I would never-"

Your sarcastic reply was cut off by him kissing you again, with a desperation you hadn't seen from him before. Maybe you had awakened something long kept under control, but any coherent thought of that was soon lost when he shrugged the furs off his shoulders and his fingers found the hem of your shirt.

Soon becoming restless feeling him trace the curves of your waist, you broke away from the kiss just long enough to tug your shirt off. Thorin did the same, and after some hurried fumbling between more stolen kisses, you were both undressed. His hands never left your body as he backed you up towards the bed.

"You are so beautiful, ghivashel..." he murmured, lips trailing along your jawline and down your neck. It was so easy to get lost in the sensation, but when he tried to sit you down on the bed, you stopped him.

"Tonight is about you, my love." You turned the two of you around and gently pushed him back to sit down, taking the time to admire his toned body as you knelt in front of him.

Thorin's eyes were wide with surprise and he almost looked as if he wanted to protest, but the twitch of his already hard cock gave him away.

"You... you don't have to-"

"I want to." His breath hitched when your lips traced his thigh, and you smiled. "Relax, my king..."

Any further protest was soon lost when you leaned forward and licked a long stripe up his length, wrenching a gasp from his lips. Your movements were slow, mapping out every inch of him with kitten licks until he was writhing impatiently before you, until you were done teasing and sucked his tip into your mouth.

The room was filled with the sounds of breathy groans and muttered Khuzdul that you could barely focus on as you continued. Thorin twisted his fingers into your hair when you began taking him inch by inch into your mouth - his grip was firm, but never controlling - and when you started bobbing your head he was certain that he must've been dreaming.

Looking up at him and pressing your thighs together to suppress your own arousal, you watched his head tilt back in ecstasy every time you pressed your tongue flat against his tip when you rose. The sounds he made were so beautiful that it was becoming more and more difficult to control yourself. Fortunately, it seemed you wouldn't need to for much longer. You felt the tension in his body increase with every bob of your head, every swipe of your tongue, and as your movements grew faster you wrapped your hand around the base to stroke what you couldn't fit in your mouth. Yet, when you next looked up at him, he gently pushed you away, denying himself climax.

"Is everything alright, my love?"

He leant down for a brief kiss, still breathing heavily, and nodded. "That was... incredible." He took your hands and guided you to stand, then pulled you closer to straddle his lap.

"Then-" You inhaled sharply feeling his lips and teeth over your throat. "Then why didn't you let me finish?"

Thorin didn't answer for a moment, too busy creating a cluster of pink marks along your neck. When he was satisfied with his work, he tugged your hips down to press his hard length against you.

"Because I want to finish inside you, amralime."

You simply nodded, feeling too flustered and on edge to offer any sort of response beyond a whispered, "Please..."

Thorin stood up holding you, his lips continuing their assault on your neck, and carefully laid you down in the center of the bed. He slotted himself between your legs and wasted no time in moving to prepare you. Pausing to receive a nod of consent, he slid one thick finger into you, and you gasped at the sudden feeling. He soon added a second when you began rocking your hips against his hand impatiently, begging for more.

"Patience," he chuckled. "I do not want to hurt you."

"I don't care." You moaned breathlessly with every curl of his fingers. It felt like so much already, but still not enough. "I need you now, Thorin."

"Who would I be to deny my queen?"

He withdrew his fingers and you immediately pulled him forward to kiss you, a soft gasp being pulled from you when he ground his hips against you, ever so lightly pressing against your clit. Holding himself up over you with one hand, he used the other to guide his tip to your entrance and, swallowing your cries in the kiss, he slowly pushed into you.

His hand found yours and your fingers intertwined while he waited for any signs of your discomfort to fade. It was an uncomfortable stretch to fit his thick cock, but it soon became a welcome sensation, and you wrapped your legs around his waist to urge him on.

He moved carefully at first, until your cries of pain became cries of pleasure, and soon his hips snapped back against you much more firmly. Each thrust hit so deep inside of you, filling you up so perfectly, and his fingers gripped your hips almost tight enough to bruise. You clutched onto him tightly, trying to stay grounded amongst the sensations. One hand was buried in his hair, keeping his forehead pressed against yours, the other was digging into his back, leaving scratches that you were sure would last a few days at least. Though it didn't seem to bother him - every time you dug your nails into his back, it seemed to be encouragement, and he relentlessly kept up his pace. It was firm and deep, but never rough, though part of you wondered how hard he would go if you asked.

With each thrust, you bucked your hips to meet him, trying to get more friction to ignite the coil of heat growing in your core. Thorin's moans soon grew louder, despite him trying to remain as quiet as he could, and when his rhythm grew unsteady his fingers slipped down to circle your clit as his teeth latched onto your neck again.

"Ghivashel..." he murmured, his voice strained. "I'm so close..."

Your mind was spinning with pleasure, and you felt yourself reaching your peak as well. "I am too..." you panted.

His hips shifted just enough to hit a spot inside you to make you see stars, and along with the attention on your clit and your neck, it was enough to push you over the edge. Your grip on him tightened as the coil snapped and heat spread through your body, and you buried your face into the crook of his neck to muffle your cry of pleasure.

It seemed to last forever, and in your pleasure-filled haziness you registered Thorin also growing tense, and you heard his deep groan as he reached his climax and came inside of you. He felt so perfect, and you both stayed clinging onto each other, lost for breath, until you both came to.

Still catching his breath, he kissed your forehead and pulled out to lie next to you, and you couldn't help but whimper at the sudden emptiness.

He lay on his side, facing you, and brought your hand up to his lips. "You are so wonderful, amralime."

You smiled softly and shuffled closer, putting an arm over his waist and tucking your head under his. "So are you, my king."

You glanced back at the door to the room and chuckled.

"What is it?"

"Maybe we should lock the door next time."

#the hobbit #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit smut #the hobbit x you #the hobbit x y/n #the hobbit imagine #thorin x reader #thorin x you #thorin x y/n #thorin imagine #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield imagine #thorin smut #thorin x reader smut #thorin x reader lemon

[tripleyeeet]

THE PADLOCK PLAYOFFS

SUMMARY: Astarion and you compete for the camp's best lockpicker.

PAIRING: Astarion & Gender Neutral Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,190

WARNINGS: None?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: @leighsartworks216 is a genius and wrote the hilarious text post this little fic is based off of, so thank Leigh for their perfect brain! Also, no editing because I'm supposed to be on vacay.

MASTERLIST

-

“Are you two always this competitive?” 

The question originally had come from Wyll. After a particularly heated argument over the most effective way to distract and pickpocket, the answer quickly became obvious and the topic was dropped, knowing that forevermore, you and Astarion would always be seen as two opposing sides, competing for the ultimate prize of best rogue within the camp. 

At first, it was civil. At least to some degree. Discussions between the two of you would always rise to a boiling point but would never overflow the pot. Oftentimes both of you would just laugh at the other’s supposed perfected tactics, claiming to be the best before deciding a test would inevitably occur once the time was right. 

No testing ever followed through though. Considering you were far too busy with the threat of the Absolute and the fact that none of your discussions were ever that serious. Each time a competition was promised it was slowly forgotten and neither of you had a problem with it. 

Well, until now. Until Lae’zel absentmindedly makes some comment about how long Astarion’s taking to pick the lock of the chest in front of him.

All of you are back at camp for the night. After a particularly rough day of looting through an overflowing camp of Absolute cultists, the majority of you are lounging by the fire, drinking ale or wine, staring at the flames in silence as you all settle down. 

Towards the tents though, Astarion kneels in front of a large chest, brows pushed towards the centre of his face in deep concentration while Lae’zel stands above him, arms crossed angrily over her chest.  Both you and Karlach spare a glance, watching the inevitable argument that breaks out, noticing the exhaustion in Astarion’s eyes as he turns towards the Gith and yells. 

“If you’re so keen on rushing my craft then I’ll just piss off and let the second best rogue do it!” 

He motions to you with an open hand as he says it, catching the annoyed look you give him in the process. How your jaw all but sets into a stiff position, your lips pressing together in an attempt to surpass the insults you wish to throw his way. 

“Yes, perhaps such a suggestion is best.”

Stealing your attention, you watch as Lae’zel motions to the chest with her chin, giving you the kind of nod that has you jumping to your feet and readying your tools, watching as Astarion merely rolls his eyes. 

“Second best rogue —are you kidding me, Star?” You huff and shake your head, angrily shoving him aside before he can even react. Then, you shove the short hook into the hole, feeling three successful shifts before pulling open the lock. 

When you do you narrow your eyes at Astarion before faking a yawn, patting the palm of your hand to your lips in the most dramatic way possible. 

“You were watching me do it,” he immediately argues, pointing to the tools in your hands, glaring at them like they’re the most evil instruments in the world. 

“From across camp?” You raise your brow and smirk. “Sweetie, you and I both know my eyesight isn’t that good.” 

“It’s good enough to recognize technique, darling.”

Somehow this time the argument of who’s better than who doesn’t die down like it usually does. Instead, it merely escalates to the point of interruption, causing both Gale and Wyll to step in, suggesting you all go to bed. Neither of you relents though, knowing what’s at stake. Knowing that whoever gives in will always be referred to as the lesser rogue. 

“How about we settle this fair and square then?” Astarion says.

You look at him like he’s just lost his head. “Wait, you’re capable of fairness?” you ask sarcastically, watching him roll his eyes before changing the subject, asking the camp for their finest padlocks.

It’s decided then that your semi-consistent call for competition is finally answered. That after countless weeks of rivalry amongst varying tactics, you’ll finally get to decide on at least one of them. 

The camp reluctantly wanders to their tents then, allowing you and Astarion a few moments to stare the other down with newfound skepticism until the party all returns with various locks, holding them out for both of you to survey. 

“Forgive me for questioning, but are competitions like this common amongst thieves?” 

Gale looks at you as you lower your head to his hands, narrowing your eyes at the lock’s design. It’s intricate on the outside, displaying an ornate pattern that wraps around the opening in two mirrored filigrees. 

“Very,” you reply, snatching the lock from his hand with a grin, turning to Astarion afterward. “Basic rules? I pick your lock, you pick mine, any means necessary?” 

Astarion nods, holding out the lock inside his palm to you, prompting you to do the same. 

Once switched you both immediately get to work, running your eyes and fingers over the mechanisms, trying to form the best course of action. Next to you, Astarion looks at his with great attention, mumbling to himself as he picks apart all the padlock’s quirks, quickly discovering your choice is unfortunately smart.

Hailing from a specific locksmith who works with magic users exclusively, you know he can tell the lock inside is enchanted. That once you stick your hook inside it’s essentially a free-for-all in regards to what happens next. 

Based on the filigree design it’s obvious to those who know that it’s laced with illusionary magic. Something you’re certain Astarion’s at least somewhat familiar with, allowing you to take your time.

Not that you need it. Not with the lock he so foolishly chose. 

As soon as it was placed into your open hand you recognized the model. An old faulty lock that had been giving rogues like you grief for years. Back when it was first developed it was quickly run off the shelves once people found it was impossible to open without destroying them completely, prompting a surge of collectors to adopt most for display. 

Knowing this, you also know a bit of brute force in the right spot can remedy such a fault.

Smirking to yourself, you twirl the lock on your finger and wander over to Karlach, eyeing her competition offering before holding out your hand. 

“May I?”

She and the rest of the party look at you confused, watching as the tiefling hands it over almost immediately. 

You thank her kindly with a dramatic bow before glancing at your competitor, noticing how he’s finally found the right hook to ensure his success. 

“I’m surprised, didn’t think you’d get that far,” you tell him then, earning his attention long enough to hit the butt of Karlach’s lock against the other, triggering a loud click to signify its opening.

At which point, Astarion all but stares. With eyes so wide you swear they might fall out, you toss the lock in his direction, watching him fumble with the one in his hand before ultimately catching yours against the base of his forearm, looking up to glare as you blow him a cheeky kiss.

-

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo@jjfchk@idiotsatan@bluestuesday@bloopthebat@art-by-greenie@heneralmoon@sukunababe@dreamingaboutyousworld@ranfithegood@haniscrying@liadamerondjarin@the-lake-is-calling@marina-and-the-memes@rookieoftheyear@zraloci-cpr@kaetmo@snickerdoodle-daydream@wowowwild@d1anna@raswiet@conniesbbymama@venus-wrts@demonicthorns@kihten@deadglamsheep@sanscas@spammypasta@leighsartworks216@rose-gold-blue@p1ssmagg0t@hellish-writes@ghostinvenus@otayz@sexysquatch@sleepyeclair@colorful-anxieties@alina-exe@ilana-the-lasagna@lillifer@girlwiththepapatattoo@y2cade@acelin-ginsberg@pinkuranium@catrad0rable@scarletrosesposts@qwnamidala@itsrosebabe@bunnyperi@queenofcarrotflowers-s@tatumadams20@spkyxszn@chlort@f3v3rs@awkwardwookie@joy-the-reader@warm-milk-with-honey-blog@vertigocrime@iyis@wildpiper@pebblethestone@tillywasneverhere@bex-03@kaetmo@revemiya@staticspouse@itzagothamcitysiren@djarinsmixtape@when-the-night-came@epicy0n@bababahannah@sleepyred1703@lotus-99@lofcompass@r4d10h34d5@vampninjaz@itsmekalou@offbrandhand@yikes-buddy@konenichi@rainonarden@oceanbluesixeyes@bodtyworship@maydayitsjay@greasyslimebucket@yeeteth-the-raven@fantasyfairysworld@allexthakatt@flowersaretheshit@morglyne@thespectacularspaceace@cephiss0@use-your-telescope@furblrwurblr@kloverfield@angelofthorr@writervaul-t@starved-kitten@minixluvr@crowley--aziraphale@sapphicwren@alionera-blog@jennithejester@dezedrol@thisisew@saladalpaca@applepiewithbacon@httpbiohazard@aurasyn@nerdoodles@kingpinthedevil@itzkawaiix@domainoflostsouls@silverskylan@uminootome@helpidkwhatimdoingwrong@deadlyinfernos@blackbirdswhispers@sarahskywalker-amadala@writingmysanity@f3v3rs@jayjones03@quietlyebbie@optimisticprime3@eyes-for-daze@sunnytalia3@megoshh@maddiedott@cappsikle@mostbeautifulnightmare@lynnlovesloki@simpytheshrimpy69@astarion-archive@smaranshakthi@autistic-deer@shadowfeart@freckled-petals@candied-lavender@hp-art-studio@ghouligan@satelliteapotheosis@waywardwitch-hel@pandimoostuff@mythoughtsofinsanity@ilovelovelylove@oneandonlyizabelle

TAGLIST NOW CLOSED!

#the padlock playoffs #astarion fan fic #astarion x gender neutral reader #astarion x reader #astarion x rogue reader #summer writes

[contemplatingoutlander]

Excerpt of Kari Lake interview with 60 Minutes Australia

Kari Lake is a dangerous, dangerous politician.

And she might become the governor of Arizona.

Above is an excerpt from Kari Lake’s off-the-wall interview with Liam Bartlett for 60 Minutes Australia. It is worth your time to watch the entire interview, which you can see HERE (at these video times: 12:37 - 14:23, 16:17 -19:07, 20:14 - 20:33). 

During the interview, Lake uses the Trumpian defense techniques of lying, grossly exaggerating, attacking others, and projecting what the GQP does onto others.

In the video clip above, we see that when Lake doesn't like the direction the interview is going in, she accuses the mainstream media (and Bartlett) of being "conspiracy theorists." The interview goes downhill from there. Here’s part of the video transcript: 

LAKE: Maybe they get away with that stuff in Australia. Perhaps in Australia because you've given your rights away; you melted down all of your guns, and you guys have no freedom that you find that okay. But here in America we do things differently. We have something called the U.S. Constitution and we have rights.”

BARTLETT: So we’d be better off having more guns here. I mean, what? You would be better off—

LAKE: Yeah, you would. You absolutely would, sir. You absolutely would. I feel so sorry for the people in Australia have no power. The only thing keeping us from being Australia right now is our second Amendment, and we will never, ever let that go. Mark my words. What we saw happening in Australia where you have internment camps, and people are being forced, if they've encountered anybody with COVID, to be locked into a quarantine camp is the most horrifying thing I think I've ever seen a government do.

BARTLETT (Cross-talking): Would it—

LAKE (Cross-talking): It's frightening, and if you if you can't see that I feel sorry for you.

BARTLETT (Cross-talking): Would it have been better-- 

LAKE (Cross-talking): This is our last question Liam. We have to run but thank you for your time. 

BARTLETT (Cross-talking): Just, just answer me this one question. One, one more question, Kari-- 

LAKE(Cross-talking): Well, no, I've already told you we're done. Thank you so much.

BARTLETT (Cross-talking): Well, just-

LAKE (As an aside as she is getting up to leave): That guy's a complete nut. Seriously, a complete insane person.

I have honestly never seen a less professional and over-the-top interview by a politician as this one (and that’s saying something, given some of Trump’s interviews). 

Heaven forbid Lake ever makes it into federal politics where she has to deal with international representatives. 

I mean, accusing Australia of having COVID “internment camps”!😱 It’s not surprising that Kari’s statement is based on right-wing misinformation. Australia built a quarantine facility for travelers coming into the country, whether or not they were vaxxed. Most countries during the deadly COVID pandemic had quarantine requirements for incoming travelers. Kari’s comment was completely outrageous given the reality of what was actually happening in Australia.

Clearly Lake is used to American journalists who don’t push back on politicians who lie or try to evade answering questions. Lake’s meltdown in the above video in part was probably triggered by Bartlett’s previous confrontation of Lake’s claims that the 2020 election was “stolen” (shown in an earlier part of the interview not included in the above video). 

When Bartlett pushed her, Lake had the audacity to say that the bogus “forensic” Cyber Ninja Arizona audit proved that the election was stolen. Uh, no. In fact, it supported the fact that Biden won Arizona and that there was no substantial voter fraud in Arizona’s 2020 election.

Unfortunately, Lake is charismatic and there has been some talk of her being a VP candidate if Trump runs for president in 2024. 

Let’s pray that she loses Arizona and is also ignored for federal office. 

[edited]

#gop #us politics #kari lake #liam bartlett #60 minutes australia #video #arizona #2022 election #transcript

[bardic-inspo]

I would love to ask you a million of these but I’ll settle for three (if you feel like answering them, of course)! 🥤 🧃🎨

Thanks for participating!!! 💛

Ahh you are so sweet, thank you so much!! 😘💜💜

[Writer's Truth or Dare Ask Game] 🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

There are SO many massively talented writers out there, many of which are still on my ever-growing to-read list. I wanna send some love to @littlejuicebox's multichapter fic, Midwinter Carol, which I'm about halfway through and absolutely loving so far!

It has: Ascended Astarion! Pining for someone who's right in front of you! Divorced yearning! Beautiful, poetic prose! Just absolutely *chef's kiss* Astarion characterization! Such a compelling protagonist in Eirianwen. Girl has got backbone and I'm excited to get to know her more and see how she complements and challenges our boy. And just a the perfect balance of angst and flirty hopefulness.

The actual fic summary (below) is much better than mine. You can read the fic on AO3 or Tumblr:

Fifteen years after the Ascendant and his lover went their separate ways, they run into one another at Wyll Ravengard’s Midwinter Gala. One dance is all they share. A week later, a cataclysm of events, spurned by Eirianwen’s return, uproots the life Astarion had been building for himself. One thing is made certain: the elven sorceress is the key to any ounce of salvation he may have left, if only she stops slipping through his fingers like sand from an hourglass. But old habits die hard, and old feelings are pulled to the surface for both the elves. Astarion is forced to confront the wounds of his past and deal with the damage he's done while trying to run from himself. The Ascendant is forced to decide whether he will continue on his current path or forge a new one... perhaps one that leads him back to the love of his life.

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

Hmm, I think I maybe talked about this on Twitter once, but not here. Well, I'm now pretty firmly in the agnostic (if not atheist) camp, but my parents pushed me to get confirmed as a kid (we were Lutheran). And I went to a church where, part of the youth group program was performing a traveling mime show of the passion story. Like, full on face-paint, black turtlenecks, miming Jesus getting crucified. There was a super eerie soundtrack and narration that went with it. Lots of drama over whether any of the girls could try-out for the Jesus role. Whipping sound effects. Absolutely no disrespect to anyone finding religious insight through art and whatnot. It just feels a little weird and uncomfy to me personally in retrospect. But then, religion really isn't for me. Most of the other confirmation programs I heard about my classmates doing had like, community service projects instead.

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

My first commissioned piece of Astarion and my main Tav (Naomi) was just finished tonight and I'm riding a cloud about it. They're so soft with each other and the artist did such a lovely job 🥹

There is SO much incredible BG3 and Astarion art out there. This piece really stands out to me, too. I just love how they captured Astarion's tender expression here, and how lovely he looks in this lighting:

#thank you so much for the ask!! <3 <3 #ask games #fic recs #art recs #about megh #megh speaks

[hdsudsfest]

HD Sudsfest Week Two

Week two of HD Sudsfest 2022 has been a glorious deep-dive into the world of washing and bathing, exploring love, lust, grief, healing, and so much more. If you’ve had a busy week and missed anything, then get cosy and enjoy!

[ ART] A Sudsy Serenade by @lilbeanz { G, Digital Art }

Harry has a horrible singing voice in the shower, but it makes Draco happy.

❤�� "the cover is breathtaking, and I adore all the expressions, and how cute they are, and Draco's little headtilt as he says Harry's name" —flightinflame

❤️ "This is beyond words! I adore every frame of it. They’re so happy, carefree and so in sync" —mxlfoydraco

[FIC] Rainbow Suds by @coffeedrgn87 { M, 13.8k }

Draco is mostly content. They have a fulfilling job, a wonderful Kensington flat, a gorgeous black kneazle, and an amazingly gifted friend who creates the most fantastic soaps. But something is missing. A little bit of human love and affection, perhaps? Spending time with Harry makes the discovery easy...or does it? Because there's this embarrassing little secret...

❤️ "I love your detailed descriptions of clothes and scents and food!" —emeffs

❤️ "Awwwwww! I love them so much! Also, this made me desperately miss the gorgeous handmade soaps I used to get at craft fairs." —vronwe

[FIC] How To Get What You Want (How To Disappear) by @moonpeachh { M, 43k }

With the passing of Lucius Malfoy, Draco begins to fear a similar fate for himself. He turns to cleansing and healing rituals with the hope that it might not be too late. His journey to penance leads him back to an unexpected place and a group of unlikely friends. But will it be enough to stop the disease he fears is growing in his veins?

❤️ "this is so so good!!! I haven’t been desperate to stay in a story like this in such a long time!" —Stark-and-clear-mundanity

❤️ "This is lovely and deserves all the kudos. The way I cried at the Greg section. Such a beautiful story." —Ella

[ART] Soap Suds by @ladderofyears { G, Digital Art }

Harry enjoys a shower at Grimmauld Place.

❤️ I love that you specifically drew Harry happy. cries hearts This is fabulous! (And I love his pink nipples. Ahem.) ♥" —lqtraintracks

❤️ "I love his expression here: he looks focused, proud and sure of himself. This is that Auror head attitude!!! Gorgeous work" —kheima

[FIC] Skinny Dipping-Hogwarts Edition by Meowfoy / @resilientkitteh { E, 3.5k }

Harry finally attends a year eight student party towards the end of their summer camp of sorts...the group starts to play Truth or Dare and Draco dares Harry to skinny dip with him in the Lake...and well one thing leads to another...

❤️ "hahahaha harry wasn’t subtle at all !!! this was super sweet and sexy !!" —nightshvde

❤️ "This was so so good!" —sazmoo

[FIC] On This Road of No Returning by Dayenu (Coffee_Scribbles) / @nina-scribbles { E, 13.2k }

There are always consequences to things like this. To getting close to people. Accident or not. 

More than anything, Harry just wants Draco’s hands on him to mean something.

But it doesn’t.

...Does it?

❤️ "Oh man, this was so good!! Tender like a bruise and a gentle hand pressed to it." —stark-and-clear-mundanity

❤️ "I think I was holding my breath all the way through. This is so delicate, so absorbing." —blueheart_V

[FIC] The Purpose of a Rubber Duck by KatIsSleeping / @dreamingandwideawake { E, 3k }

Harry just wants to take a nice, relaxing bath to fight off his nightmares. It doesn’t matter that Malfoy’s there as well. Even if he looks gorgeous. Which Harry doesn’t notice. At all. Everything will be fine. Or: The one where Harry stops being able to speak as soon as he sees Malfoy, the Gryffindors give helpful advice, and Harry and Malfoy fight over a rubber duck.

❤️ "Oh I adore this!! It’s so sweet and I love their banter back and forth... so so good!!!! Fantastic work ❤️❤️❤️" —nv-md

❤️ "HAHAHA love this !!! 😍 nobody ever tells harry anything lololl but this time it worked out alright i think 😌 thank you !!! 💖" —nightshvde

[ART] Rivulets by @bluebutter-art { M, Digital art }

It is known that newly turned Veelas must carry out the sacred rituals of bathing themselves in the old magicks coursing through the ancient waters of Lake Elmry, offering them the faculty to restrain their allure and Veela impulsivity. The only problem was this: the forests surrounding the waters were thick with potential danger– a shelter for rogue death eaters and rabid, unregistered Weres, ready to pounce on a vulnerable and unassuming prey. Harry– Auror on patrol overseeing this month's rituals– was unprepared to face the Veela he would be guarding tonight.

❤️ "Oh my god this is absolutely incredible …. My knees are weak, such a great and intense story told in just a few images… stunning 💖" —artcele

❤️ "Beautiful! I love when you do black and white. I can literally hear the rain pounding and the reflection of the moon is absolutely mesmerizing. Such a sensuous piece and that last embrace is everything ❤️" —rhapsodia89

[FIC] Slippery When Wet by @eevans22 { E, 11k }

Healer Draco Malfoy discovers a very interesting detail about how Harry Potter acquired his latest injury.

❤️ "Awwwwwww I love this!!! Adorable and hilarious and perfect <3 Thank you for writing!!!" —Sapphire_Jules

❤️ "The mortification, darling! Incredible and hot. Cute and funny. Hurrah!" —pixiewithdocs

[FIC] it's gonna be alright by The_HouseRyn/ @the-houseryn { T, 9k }

Somehow, Harry had forgotten to ward out Draco when he boarded up his house to keep out everyone else. Despite having plenty of reasons to leave Harry to his own destruction, Draco just couldn't. Not after loving him for so long, even if Harry didn't love him back anymore. He just had to get Harry to let Hermione in and then he could leave this cold version of the home he loved for half a decade.

❤️ "😭😭 this was so heartbreakingly beautiful. I love how caring this draco was even as he was battling his own hurt. i felt for both of them so much. I'm so glad their family got to have the happy ending" —beyondtheclose

❤️ "I feel strange saying this but I really enjoyed the angst in your fic as it was so wonderfully written...So heart-rending and beautifully written." —reveriepi

[FIC] Relief by @moonflower-rose { E, 4k }

Harry is all he can think about. It's driving him to distraction.

❤️ "Yesss, it's time for our annual moonflower_rose watersports fic!! Super hot, as always, and I really loved the dynamic between them! So great how much backstory and worldbuilding you were able to fit into this ficlet..." —gracerene

❤️ "OH MY GOD!!! I just adore this with all my bones. This Draco had me by the throat and would not let go. It’s so tender and deliciously sexy and wonderful. I felt lost in their world and didn’t want to leave. FANTASTIC WORK!!!!!" —nv-md

Enjoy these incredible works in our Sudsfest 2022 Collection on Ao3!

weekly roundup header art by @fictional do not repost

#drarry #hpdm #draco malfoy #harry potter #hd sudsfest #hd sudsfest 2022 #harry potter fic #drarry fic #drarry art

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 4/25/22

where the fuck were we

listening

Tongue by Rêve. i do not care for this latex aurra sing album art, but this instantly went on the "somebody come fuck this (GAY)" playlist. a fun danceable party bop about oral. other than a concerning line regarding "gamey like venison", what more can you ask for. spotify

Yeah Yeah Yeah by Blood Orchid. starts out with some very straightforward drums and then gets SLUDGY. this makes me want to sing along with the chorus with as much vocal fry as i can manage. i think the band is american, but the pronunciation of "yeah" is something i have only heard from posh brits? i think it works here. spotify

Praising You (feat. Fatboy Slim) by Rita Ora. this is somewhere between a cover and a reimagining? fun if you already know and like the original, fun if you don't. short, peppy, got me through a lot of mopping on saturday. spotify

reading

very long title by susan pinsky. checked this out mostly for any advice on moving, which was limited to two paragraphs that said "get rid of everything possible, the most efficient packing is not always the thing that will get you through a move in one piece, hire people to do everything for you if possible". this was unhelpful to me.

the author is not adhd, but is writing it out of the experience of having an adhd daughter and a ton of clients who probably had adhd. it feels like it is largely geared toward people who have a wife or child with adhd. while the version i read had been updated, it did feel very out of date at several points, especially with regards to calendaring/planning systems and (if possible) forcing everyone to call you at your home phone so you can check your wall calendar that you keep on your wall and not double book yourself. like what.

while i had independently derived some of the specific tips through great trial and error and much of the book simply did not apply to me, it did give some interesting background on why specific things (open storage, clear bins, open shelving, the concept of having one or two shelves free as a staging area in each place you have shelves) work with rather than against us.

i can see this being useful to someone who has recently been diagnosed as an adult, or is managing a family with multiple adhd/otherwise neurodivergent members, but i certainly wouldn't buy it. her big thing is Get The Fuck Rid Of Your Shit while not really providing a lot of pointers on how to go about that, so i could see how pairing this with one of marie kondo's books might be helpful? neither pinsky nor kondo really give a whole lot of advice on like "so you're an adult, here are things adults have in their house to make their lives easier" so perhaps a third unknown book might complete the perfect trilogy. idk man. im cranky her advice about moving was half a page.

Witches, Princesses, and Women at Arms, a collection of erotic lesbian fairytales edited by Sacchi Green. this was objectively fine. i skipped one completely bc it would have been a fucking hysterical short skit but did NOT translate to the page at all. as is ever the case with anthologies, some of them were decent, some of them not so much, almost none will stick in my brain even though there was some very nice butch representation. the one that does stick in my brain, Woodwitch by M. Birds about a princess trying to break a familial curse re: war, and a witch who follows the army, was memorable more for its leadup and acknowledgement of how a marching army works? like yeah! historically that is how armies move and camp and feed themselves huh, this is surprisingly well-researched for lesbian erotica!

the level of explicit erotica is...sort of on the same level as most modern f/f fic? this came out a good five years ago and people sure are having sex on the page, but there's a lot of metaphor and various other veiled imagery.

unfortunately, i want to read about women gettin absolutely nasty with it. i want to read about a pussy written with the same fervor as the average m/m cock in fanfic.

it's misogyny is what it is.

watching

rewatched For A Few Dollars More (1965, dr. Leone). in my heart he fucked that old man

You Can't Win Em All (1970, dir. Collinson) bc a very western-ish screenshot had me absolutely baffled about why a mauser was in a western. this is not a western, this is about some american mercenaries during the 1922 turkish civil war. this is not a very good movie (my main beef is that it spends twenty minutes trying to convince itself why its leads should work together, and the contrivance it lands on isn't particularly compelling or comprehendible after carting through us a whole bunch of other failed inciting incidents). this movie doesn't even manage enjoyably bad, but it sure is a spectacle of a war movie. great calvary columns riding through the prettiest goddamn landscapes you've ever seen. all forms of transportation are covered, including "armored train" and "trio of biplanes". my personal tolerance for exotic travelogue movies is fairly high, yours may not be.

if you want an actual cowboy western with different triple-crossing american mercenaries played by burt lancaster and gary cooper, Vera Cruz (1954, dir. Aldrich) is like a proto-revisionist western? quite a bit darker than i expected for 1) an american western made in 2) 1954

playing

sort of tied in with the making section-- i am deeply unhappy with how much time i am spending with fallou/t 4 bc it is not a game that makes me happy. however, the startup cost to finding a new game that makes me happy is pretty steep. so i spent some time on saturday flinging games into various folders, bc i forgot that was a thing steam lets you do now. maybe a different organizational system will fix me.

do not need to look at again: lots of demos and prologues from my old job, a couple things that aren't on steam anymore, some stuff that came in bundles that i'm not interested in, any strategy games.

done: my time with this game is at an end but i may want to return to a handy list to remind myself of what i have finished. lots of short indie experiences, wolfen/stein the new order, night in the woods, the portals, firewatch, things of this nature

old faithfuls: fnv, fo4, dishonored, sable bc i love simply zooming about.

hard bounce: this is mostly to make myself stop trying to click with hollow knight. i am never going to like fiddly platformers. and that's okay.

try again later: i'm deeply annoyed i'm not clicking with hardspace shipbreaker bc on paper it's the perfect fucking game for me. in practice even after fucking around with all the sensitivities it's still too fiddly for me. i need much, much more forgiving games with a shotgun-close-enough mentality.

making

important moving prep: cleaned out the storage unit that still had the dregs of my last move plus boxes from three grandparents and my mom. this took three full fuckin days bc it was extremely hot, i had to stop to cry a bunch, and a lot of goodwill trips.

the great thing about siblings is that if you've been caretaking a family heirloom that makes you feel weird due to your fractious relationship with the dead person in question, you can foist it off to a sibling who had a completely different less fractious relationship with the dead person in question.

once again i have failed to take a pic of the baby blanket in real daylight but we are slowly chugging along, halfway through repeat 6/10

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem

[lorenfinch]

Find the Word Tag: Massive Catch-Up Edition

Tagged by @serenanymph, @writernopal, @sam-glade, and @worldofthraeia! Thank you so much for tagging me and sorry this took so long to get to!

Tagging: @kaiusvnoir, @mjjune, @liv-is, @writinglittlebeasts, and leaving an open tag for the words arm, happy, late, and switch!

My words: fault, reflect, snarl, rage, savor, energy, camp, fortune, soft, knock, promise, gold, wing, want, win, wait, cold, crystal, cut, cross, bear, burn, bread, burrow, fight, flight, fling, and flick. That's right folks, saddle up 'cause it's gonna be a long one! All of these are from my Everdark WIP.

REFLECT (ch. 9):

Understandably, the room contained no mirrors, so I unsheathed one of the daggers I looted from the hunters. A silver blade, it seemed—my reflection was already fading from its sharpened surface. Yet I could still see enough of myself to haphazardly comb through my black hair with my fingers. It hit me then, that it had been weeks since I’d seen my own face—I hadn’t tried looking in a mirror since before my transformation. Indeed, my eyes had turned from blue to violet, and for the first time, I saw how I looked with pointed ears. There were still things I would change. I would wear a more tailored suit, and a sharper jawline. But I still vastly preferred this to the reflection I’d been forced to stare at in the attic of my family home. At least this reflection could smile.

SNARL (ch. 5):

Styx’s lip curled into a snarl, and I flinched at the harshness of their voice. “The Everdark is not my home. Perhaps it was, once. But that was long ago.” “…What changed?” I whispered. “It doesn’t matter now.” Styx clenched her fists as a pained look flickered across her face for but a second. “My curse forces me to hunt, and I choose to hunt monsters. Sometimes with the Guild. A cockatrice here, a manticore there. Other times…” Their voice trailed off, but I knew what laid in those unsaid words. I knew all too well.

Putting the rest under the cut for length.

A couple of these contain cws for: Victorian era-type misogyny and ableism, misgendering, suggestive content (consensual), blood drinking (consensual), minor gore

FAULT (ch. 9):

“Apologies, Doctor,” came the voice of my mother. “She should have outgrown these emotional outbursts by now. What a disgrace.” “Nothing to apologize for, my Lady,” replied the doctor. “If anything, the fault lies with me. I thought dispelling the unfeminine spirit would be enough to cure her hysteria, but clearly this girl is deeply disturbed.”

RAGE (ch. 10):

Her voice shook with rage, and I laid a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “All the while, rumors swept the village, tales of a plague that rendered women infertile and turned them into monsters. Of course I took the transformation when it came. And I killed my shitstain husband and found the people I cared about and turned them, too. Tansy. My two surviving brothers. I turned countless strangers as well. And we won.” She laughed mirthlessly.

SAVOR (ch. 11):

“I assure you, darling,” the black-haired woman draped her hand on top of mine and gave it a squeeze. My dead heartbeat quickened in response. “I give you my utmost consent.” And before I could take her wrist, she reached up to undo the clasps of her necklace. Oh. I flushed once more as, invitingly, she pat the bare skin on her neck. Softly, hungrily, I granted her wish. Warm and savory, her blood rushed to my mouth, and she made no secret how much she enjoyed it. With one hand, she threaded her fingers through my hair, and pulled my body closer to hers with the other. Having warmed a few beds in the past couple of years, I was no virgin, and yet this was easily the most intimate, sensual moment I’ve ever experienced.

ENERGY (ch. 1):

With little else to focus on, I concentrated on the throbbing ache continuing to pulse through my wrists. The leather padding on the shackles and the additional barrier provided by my jacket sleeves only prevented the burn that would result from pure silver touching vampiric skin. The shackles still hurt, and they still drained—my energy, my strength, even any powers I’d developed. They weren’t many, but I still felt the difference.

CAMP (ch. 3):

After what had to be many hours of riding, the trees thinned into a clearing, and Sir Wendell decided this would be the camp for the time being. He and a few of the hunters were in charge of warding it. Garlic for undead, salt and sigils for spirits, and a carefully placed iron horseshoe for the fair folk.

FORTUNE (ch. 1):

No one knew how it was created, only that the enchantment bloomed in the southeast of the Avardinian continent and rapidly spread outward until it was the size of a small kingdom. I’ve heard many a religious person claim fervently and with great fear that it was the work of Luthar, god of misfortune. Mages and diviners alike have tried to undo the enchantment, but none succeeded. Thus the Everdark remained, a border between human and elven lands and a home for those who fell between the cracks, monster or outsider or otherwise.

SOFT (ch. 10):

“You’re soft,” she said. I reflexively flinched, but her voice lacked the venom that so many others had woven into those exact words. “You remind me of my brothers. I miss them.” I wished I could miss mine. I was soft for him once, too, but he had carved that away long ago.

KNOCK (ch. 11):

I did not respond, for at that point I had become transfixed on what laid ahead of me. A massive building loomed before us, nestled neatly between the trees as if it had actually been built there. Half-timber framed its walls of stucco and stone in a style reminiscent of the older buildings in Cedra, topped with a steep-pitched roof and lined with stained-glass windows depicting scenes of various creatures I assumed were fair folk in nature. Vines of ivy climbed the walls, interspersed with the sort of fungi I’d seen growing on tree trunks. The door was tall with a rusted brass knocker depicting a set of insect wings, and nailed to it was a wooden sign that plainly stated: FRIENDLY VISITORS WELCOME. A clear invitation.

PROMISE (ch. 2):

“You mean you won’t be coming with us?” I asked forlornly. Ainsley smiled, crossing the room to give me a pat on the shoulder. “Afraid not, lad. I’m needed here, not just to defend these folk from the vampires but also our regular nightly threats. Don’t give me those eyes, now, this is a fine lot here! You’ll be gettin’ along with them. But…” He leaned in close, lowering his voice. “If ya truly need me…I’ll be sure to find ya.” “Promise?” I whispered. Ainsley ruffled my hair. “Aye. I promise.”

GOLD (ch. 7):

He was the most opulent man I’d ever seen, dressed in a lush frock coat of blue and champagne velvet, with intricate golden filigree delicately embroidered throughout. His white boots, dragon leather based on the subtle texture, ended in a sole and heel of solid gold, and my jaw dropped as I realized the golden feathers on his impressive mantle were real phoenix feathers, an incredibly rare sight. His hair was a gold as his plumage, skin as pale as porcelain, eyes a dreamlike periwinkle. “May I come in?” the newcomer asked with raised eyebrows, and yet he crossed through the threshold anyway, much to the ire of the Night Terrors. “The fuck are you doing here?” “Get lost!”

WING (ch. 5):

When I was eight years old, my uncle Emmerick returned from one of his Everdark expeditions with a strigoi in tow. He kept the creature, a winged undead bloodsucker, caged in his lab. Most people are scared of creatures like this, he had said, but in actuality they’re quite fascinating. Is it a baby vampire? I had asked, to which my uncle responded no, that vampires were much more like people, except not quite. I’d pondered the strigoi then, thinking that despite its little batlike body flapping about, its face was vaguely reminiscent of that of a human. I gave the creature a name: Flappy.

WANT (ch. 10):

Styx carefully laid her scythe against a tree, then stepped into the clearing, arms held at her sides. The rising moon cast a pale halo onto their tall, dark silhouette. “Stab me.” “What?” I breathed. “I think these are silver. I don’t want to hurt you.” “Any blade can harm a mortal, and yet they still train with them,” Styx retorted evenly. “Stab me.”

WIN (ch. 6):

“Has to be centuries at this point,” Eirik replied, whistling in amazement. Admittedly, he didn’t look at all like how I pictured a vampire. He was broad, tough-looking, clearly a warrior who didn’t need fangs to win a fight. “Man, time flies.”

WAIT (ch. 3):

“Wait! Please don’t go! Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry!” But he said nothing in response, the silence carving a hole in my chest.

COLD (ch. 3):

When I woke up all I could think about was the blood I’d lost, and the blood I’d gained. Whatever wound I’d received had healed, and yet my flesh was cold as death. All around me were the bodies of the men who’d tried to kidnap me, all cut open with fangs and claws except for one. Bleeding, yes, but alive, and smelling utterly decadent.

CUT (ch. 9):

“You know, as enjoyable as this rather compromising position is,” said the elf, bringing a blush to my face as I realized just how I was holding him—wrists pinned above his head, our faces mere hand’s breadths from each other. He was only a few inches taller than me, with moonlight in his hair and the tiniest of stardust freckles dotting his cheeks. He bled from a small cut to the face, and oh, how utterly sweet he smelled. “I’m afraid I must ruin the moment.”

CROSS (ch. 3):

For the first time since our traveling party crossed the twilit threshold, one of the hunters spoke up. “How d’you know it’s them?” “Here in the southern Ferrywood all the way to Undertaker’s Bay is where they stalk,” replied Sir Wendell. “They’re a clever bunch. They’ve been known to work with sirens to take down entire battleships. Be very cautious.” “Battleships? An’ we’re supposed to trust these two to talk ‘em down?” another hunter, a tall, broad-shouldered man with jagged teeth, demanded. He gestured wildly at Styx and me as he continued. “A posh little prince and a bloody heathen?”

BEAR (ch. 9):

“Sorry,” he whispered, looking tremendously small. Feeling guilty for startling him, I shook my head and apologized in return. Mirko gave me a tiny smile and held out his arms, and it was then I saw that in his hands he held a stuffed animal of some sort—bear? Wolf? Otter? I couldn’t tell, but it looked lovingly stitched together. “Tansy made her for me,” Mirko explained. “She helps with the nightmares.”

BURN (ch. 8):

“All of us were transformed at some point during the uprising,” said Amaryllis, a faraway look on her face. “Dahlia and I were born in the same village. Edenlin, in the deepest wilds. We didn’t think the raiders would come that far, but they did, and we were forced to flee and watch as our home burned to the ground.” Reading the saga was one thing, but hearing a firsthand account was something entirely different. “I’m sorry,” was all I could say. “I took the transformation first,” said Dahlia. “Amaryllis turned to magic instead, but…” “It wasn’t enough,” Amaryllis’ voice turned to a low growl. “I summoned fair folk, I animated skeletons, I cursed the blood of the raiders. Things anyone would consider witchcraft. But there was something incredibly satisfying about clawing the smug face of the man who torched my home.”

BREAD (ch. 2):

When he or any of the other hunters spoke, they cheered, some running up and handing them gifts—bundles of flowers, coin, loaves of bread.

FIGHT (ch. 10):

Fighting Styx was different from fighting Belladonna. Belladonna had been a brawler, a panther, a blade made flesh. Styx, on the other hand, was a barrier, an impenetrable wall of stone that only moved when she pleased. Finding an opening should have been easy, especially since Styx seemingly wore no armor, but I was blocked and parried at every chance.

FLIGHT (ch. 3):

Of course, we still crossed paths with various creatures wandering the woods. A sudden movement from the branches above us startled several of the hunters, but it only turned out to be an owl taking flight. Our next sight was less familiar, and sent chills down even my spine—a trio of odd creatures feasting on a dead elk right on the edge of the path. They looked humanlike but all wrong, a pale, twisted caricature of a corpse. I knew these creatures by name, though I had only seen drawings and anatomical diagrams in books and in my uncle’s laboratory. Ghouls, devourers of the dead, harmless to the living. They scattered into the darkness as we approached, but we kept a wide berth nonetheless.

FLICK (ch. 3):

“Explains the bandages,” Styx mused, spaded tail flicking side to side like a cat’s. “Remain watchful of your hunger. The less blood a vampire takes, the more they must feed. Have you killed yet?”

CRYSTAL, BURROW, FLING: n/a

#tag games #everdarkwip

[josefavomjaaga]

@usergreenpixel asked me to spill the tea on Ida Saint-Elme. But frankly, I can’t, as I have mostly ignored these memoirs, like most historians seem to have done, assuming they were completely unreliable and totally made up. I only came across them again when I was looking for something on Grouchy. Whom Ida claims to have known in 1795/6 in the Netherlands (where he allowed her to save two émigrés, with a »smile« from Ida as a recompensation).

Of course, my utter lack of knowledge will not keep me from making an extra long entry about her. 😁

I now see that there actually has been a new edition of Ida’s memoirs a couple of years ago, the editor being well-known French historian Jacques Jourquin. His preface can be read through Amazon, and he estimates that Ida’s memoirs are no more or less reliable than those by Laure Junot, Constant or Mlle Avrillon; as a matter of fact, those were originally published by the same publisher. While there is lots of stuff that Ida (or rather Elselina, as that is her real name) made up about her family and her background, probably to make herself look more interesting and to protect her real relatives, the two main points are undeniably true: Elselina was the quasi-spouse of general Moreau for several years (confirmed by plenty of sources), and she later followed Marshal Ney around from the camp of Boulogne into several campaigns, often dressed as a soldier (confirmed in the memoirs of Ney’s ADCs). She also occasionally worked as a spy and informant to Fouché’s police.

At some point, when I finally have more time, I’ll surely have to get this new edition and read Ida’s memoirs. She seems like a very interesting personality. And from the little that I have seen on Gallica, her memoirs actually seem more enjoyable than the stilted writing style of our beloved Duchess of Abrantes.

But mostly, as I still have problems coming to terms with one Michel Ney, who better to convince me that he was an amiable person than his biggest fan? And that Ida surely was. She seems to have been obsessed with him even before she got together with Moreau, after only hearing about Ney’s exploits, and she claims to have asked colonel Meynier to talk to Ney about her before they ever met. Which apparently did not have the desired effect in the beginning:

Moreover, Ney knew in advance the feelings he had long inspired in me, and nothing was perhaps less likely to sway him in my favour than the irresistible drive which carried me towards him without reflection.

Meynier: Hey, Ney, many heartfelt greetings from some married Dutch chick who has never met you but is totally crazy about you!

Ney: … (runs and hides)

Ida (or rather still Elselina at this point) a short time after the event with Grouchy met Moreau for the first time, whom in the beginning she found way too reasonable and boring, compared to Ney. She actually makes a comparison between her two main lovers immediately before the snippet quoted above:

My affair with Ney bore no resemblance to that which linked me to Moreau. When the latter met me for the first time, my conduct still made me worthy of public esteem [...]. I saw in him my protector rather than my lover: he had never hidden from me his intention of one day restoring to me the rank which belonged to me in the world, and my rights to that public esteem which I had so foolishly sacrificed.

The character of Ney was as fiery as that of Moreau was calm and reflective; but apart from this contrast, between two such remarkable men, I was far from being able to inspire the same interest, when circumstances finally brought me closer to this Ney whom I had known, so to speak, only by his fame. Deprived not only of my claims to consideration, and placed by opinion in the class of women who have only their beauty for all merit and fortune, I still had to struggle in his mind against many malicious insinuations, of which I had, without knowing it, been the object. [...] Moreau would have liked to make me an accomplished woman; he encouraged me to seek the superiority which beauty and the advantages of the spirit give in the world.

Ney, whose tastes and personal habits were far removed from Moreau's gravity, encouraged me to disdain the graces of my sex, and even to seek at times the perils and glory of the stronger sex.

In other words, while Moreau still may have had plans to at one point marry Elselina, for Ney she was one of his occasional affairs, and in addition to that, a sister-in-arms and a prefered drinking buddy. Which probably suited Ida much better.

According to her memoirs, Ida-Elselina only ever had met Ney once (in Moreau’s company) when she wrote him her first passionate love letter:

I must obey my heart; I am therefore not looking for vain excuses. I do not know the art of disguising my feelings: besides, there is something in the depths of my soul which tells me that if my action offends the decorum of the ordinary man, it will perhaps please the noble frankness of your character. Only once did my eyes see you, and your image was engraved in my heart. United with you in thought, I have shuddered at all your perils, rejoiced in all your triumphs, and applauded enthusiastically at the recital of your beautiful deeds. My lot is brilliant; some women find it worthy of envy: I would gladly renounce all this glory, for the right to associate myself with your dangers. Esteem and gratitude unite me with General Moreau. To confess this to you in a letter such as this one, is it not to run the risk of making me contemptible in your eyes? But I cannot fight the irresistible urge of my heart. In confessing to you the feeling that troubles my repose, I have no other thought than to inform you that there is a woman far from you to whom your glory is no less dear than to yourself.

She totally is the type to stand under Ney’s window wearing a »Michel, I want to have your baby!« t-shirt.

Of course, like any good novel heroine, she then – according to herself - got her letters confused and accidentally sent this ardent love letter to – Moreau, instead to Ney. Who apparently didn’t have much trouble to figure out who the real recipient should have been. This then led to a rather painful interview between the couple:

"Elzelina, how has Ney deserved this excessive delirium that has made you forget a woman's dignity?" "Nothing. He hardly knows me; and perhaps he will never love me." "Listen to me," resumed Moreau, "this is the last time I shall touch this subject. Ney will not make you happy. I know him, I admire him; but in his brilliant qualities, in that lofty but ambitious soul, there is no happiness for a woman; for the burning caprice she may expect from him is not the lasting love she should inspire." "Great heavens! What are you telling me! Do you not deceive me."

No bad-mouthing my (not so) secret sweetheart, Moreau!

And at that point, Moreau apparently decided that it was better to let Elselina go, and they broke up. This must have happened before Moreau’s marriage, most likely in 1799. I’ve not yet found the point when Ida finally gets together with Ney.

That’s all the tea I have to spill on Ida right now 😊. All quotes above are from Volume 2 of “Souvenirs d’une contemporaine”, available online at Gallica.

#napoleon's marshals #michel ney #jean-victor moreau #ida saint-elme #elselina versfelt

[little-peril-stories]

Happy STS!

Do you spend more time reading or writing? Do you read and/or write multiple things at the same time? Do you read the same genre you write? Do you reread your own writing once you're done just for the fun of it?

Happy STS, two Saturdays later! Thanks, Elli, for the ask, and for waiting so patiently!

In 2023, I have spent significantly more time writing. Which is not necessarily a good thing seeing as I am an English teacher. Oops.

I used to be able to juggle multiple books when I was younger. I still can, but not nearly as well. I am far more distractible these days then I ever was as a kid.

I can work on multiple writing projects at once, but I almost always end up favouring one over the other. I guess it helps if some of the projects take less (or perhaps different) brainpower. Right now I'm writing Book 2 for Camp Nanowrimo (let's see if I break 10k today babyyyy), editing TQOL to ready it for posting, and I still need to fix typos etc. in Book 1. Luckily the Book 1 stuff requires time more than brainpower; the TQOL changes require medium brainpower; and obvs the writing of Book 2 takes most of the mental energy and imagination. So it's easy to prioritize.

Sorry angsty heist wip. You progress only in Daydreamland for now. Again.

I absolutely reread my own writing! It brings me great joy! Reblogging TPOT from the sideblog to the main has given me the opportunity for that and it's been fun. Eventually I will need to serious reread it if I actually want to turn into a lil free ebook, but I'm concentrating on the other things for now and I already know there are things I want to change so it's a liiiiiiiittle bit daunting.

#happy sts! #storyteller saturday #I-can-even-burn-salad #ask game

[zell-bell]

Mission: Macabre

Warning: Gore and Horror, and possibly really bad writing, lmao. Written on my phone and not really edited in any way so pacing is probably weird.

Missions with Adam were always hectic. And not because they were badly planned or anything… I always wondered if there’d be a day that I endangered him. But, godsdamned, did I enjoy watching him in action.

Today’s objective was getting in and out of a small fortress just north of Gridania headed towards Xelphatol. A small band of rebels had been seen trying their best to start unrest between Gridanians on the outskirts of the city-state and the Ixtal, in various portions of the forest and beyond. Adam’s task was to gather reconnaissance on the motive as a shared buyer had approached us both for a hefty payout if we could provide anything.

That’s how I managed to slip into his usual solo business… watching him from a branch far overhead as he crept in the bushes beneath. I pressed my back against the rigidness of the trunk behind me and leaned forward just enough to see Adam weave through ferns and blades of plants I couldn’t even chance a guess of naming. One hand clutched a dagger while the other remained freed up to push the foliage out of his face. I’d even opted for a more minimal approach this time, decked out in black travel leathers and a smaller bow for ease of escape should it come to it.

The light from the encampment was rather dim considering how many Hyuran figures had been reported, six at least. It was dark enough that Adam’s hair appeared murky as the sea and his fair complexion seemed almost shadowed by the air around him. How he preferred it, thankfully. Somehow, miqo’te sight wasn’t even enough and I lost sight of him almost immediately when he moved up.

As silently as I possibly could, I stepped out to the massive branch I’d taken up sentry on and sidled sideways just until I felt the wooden appendage sag. Narrowing my eyes just enough to make out the next branch over, I moved and quickly. The rain from a previous night had made them a little more springy than I’d like and a noise followed every movement with an uncomfortable thwacking of moisture and leaves. Continuing along, I found a new post just on the edge of the camp and my eyes widened as I steadied myself against the trunk again.

Just below, I could make out Adam hunched off to one side. I imagined his expression wasn’t much different as he surveyed the scene. The fire at the center of the small, hastily made clearing was sputtering out and desperately reaching for the heavens in its death throes. Judging by the amount of ash around it, it had only been burning for several bells… perhaps two or three. But the smell… a tangy copper drowned out the smokiness of the burnt wood. The absolute smell of death. It hit me square in the chest and I found myself pressing my forehead to the bark beneath my hand, the contents of my stomach threatening to birth themselves from my lips.

Adam’s voice suddenly filled my head and the distraction was welcomed. The cool, calm tone was out of place and yet perfectly normal for him, “What do you think happened here? See anything from up there?”. I pressed a fingertip to the link pearl in my left ear and squatted down in the shadow of the tree as I responded.

“Five down… all bodies around the fire in a star…”, I paused as the nausea surged again, “… Entrails all connected and pointing towards the center…”.

I knew he was digesting the information and a soft rustling sound came from his direction. I assumed he’d taken up a new vantage point as I straightened and began to take in more of the camp. Something seemed off about the lack of… anything else. No real leads, no living creatures or people.

The branch next to me sagged just the slightest and I smirked, a witty response to Adam’s new position on the top of my tongue as I turned to face him.

Instead, I was met with the most horrifying face I’ve ever seen in my life. It was as if a creature from the deepest recesses of the void had somehow found an unfortunate soul in the forest and fashioned a mask out of their face. What looked to have been humanoid at some point has been split open and become… whatever this was, the face being the last remaining proof of its humanity. The rest of it was a grotesque rendering of some wolf-like bastardization. Where legs might have been, appendages that bent in all the wrong directions jutted out instead with broken fingers clutching the branch.

I’d been frozen for far too long, unable to so much as move as it inched closer to me, face so close I could smell the rancidness of its breath… and then it’s jaw fell forward… It screamed. Or laughed?

“G’iselle? What was that?”, Adam’s voice was almost drowned out as I clutched my hands over my ears.

It lunged as it made the noise, clawed hands raking towards me as it shredded the bark in its wake. There was barely enough time to slide to a lower branch before it skidded to a rough stop, it’s macabre face slammed against the trunk with a hiss and another scream. The movements of its too-long fingers in my direction as it noticed where I’d gone were not lost on me. It was time to go.

Ears be damned, I released them and started the race down the tree. Branches whipped past my cheeks and cut against flesh as I began the marathon to outrace my heart and the thing already making its way down behind me. The ground was getting closer and so were the weird cracking screams that now echoed the woods around us. The bow I’d been holding all along found itself tossed off somewhere far below as both hands clutched anything to get me out of the trees faster.

Just as my feet landed on solid ground, I found myself yanked sideways hard enough that I hissed into a hand that covered my mouth, fighting dizziness at the sudden whirlwind of emotions that hit. One hand had flown down to a dagger at my thigh, but was pinned by another. Adam.

He caught my gaze and slowly released my mouth, holding me against him as we both took shallow, quiet breaths. Somewhere to the right, the bushes parted and the sound of twigs snapping moved to the campfire that casted an eerie, reddish glow on everything within a few feet of it. The creature appeared with its human face a stark white to the crimson massacre around it with its nose turned towards the heavens. Long sniffs followed by horrific choking sounds resonated off the small tents of the camp almost as if someone clutched at a single thread of life within the nightmare itself.

I felt Adam’s grip slide from mine as he leaned forward just so that his lips hovered against my ear, “We’re about to do the dumbest thing we’ve ever done in a while…ok?”. His fingers rested on the dagger I’d tried to unsheathe when he grabbed me, “I’m going to run to the right and you’re going to go left… if it chases you, lead it back to camp and into the light. If it chases me, I’m gonna do the same thing. Go for the throat and the belly with that dagger once he’s by the fire, got it?”.

I nodded, afraid that if I said a word I’d summon the thing between us somehow.

“Good, on three”. He held up a hand and slowly lowered his fingers. One. Two. THREE. I felt him shove me as hard as he could to the left as he darted off into the brush to the right. All I could do to keep my footing was rotate my entire body until I was in a full sprint after stumbling a few fulms. It was enough to garner the thing’s attention and its gaunt, lifeless face lowered until its black eyes fixated on me. In no time, it was lumbering in a straight line for me and leaving behind vitriol and spatter from the unfortunate men beneath it.

With the wind whipping past my face and the now familiar sting of plants against my cheeks, I dashed in a wide arch as I made my way back towards the encampment. The screaming behind me started up again and I realized the sound for what it was, an excited hunting chant. The sound of a deranged killer. Goosebumps prickled my skin as I struggled to keep my heart in my chest.

My one advantage came into play as I caught sight of the fire in front of me. A much smaller size allowed me to navigate the trees of the woods as the hulking beast tried to close the gap between us, however, it found itself getting pinned between young saplings or unable to slow inertia as it skidded past a turn altogether. When I reached the ring of gore, it had fallen behind quite a bit until it slowed and stalked towards the light, its fingers curling this way and that as if someone was bending them backwards.

The dagger had made its way into my hand and I took up a defensive stance, holding it sideways and in front of my chest. I’d have one shot if it lunged at me. If I missed, that would be the end.

Instead, it watched me like a cat cornering a mouse. Perhaps it would bat me around or, in the worst case scenario, I’d end up as the sixth point of the intestine star under my boots. One leg moved into position. Two. The odd silence drew out and I expected to hear the scream, but it never came.

My eyes left its feet just in time to see an ethereal form wrap around its torso and up to its neck, snake-like tendrils clutched against it just under its jaw and mask. Its front legs jutted up, tearing into nothing but shadow as its hindquarters left the ground. Behind it, Adam held his hands up in a near perfect mock of the darkness that now entrapped the nightmare, but I could see that his power was waning and quickly. His eyes met with mine and he mouthed the word “Now!” at me with a pleading expression. Without hesitation, I looses the dagger and it struck home through both shadow and flesh as a gurgling replaced the heartbeat that rang through my ears.

Adam’s hands fell to his sides and he steadied himself against a nearby tree as I stepped closer to the felled monstrosity atop the corpses of its own making. Where there had been appendages of some unknown creature, a pale, thin body of a man began to appear. The mask was slowly becoming a mutilated face to match that which was hidden, proving the theory that his skull had been rendered in two by the thing that had exploded from it. In his hand was some sort of stone that glowed an eerie violet in color, gripped as if his life depended on it. Seems it did. The dagger I’d thrown had sunk home and the life had drained from the man, what little was left.

“It was a soul stone of some sort…”, Adam returned to my side, a sheen of sweat coated his brow, “Saw a few in my travels before. Looks like he sacrificed all of his colleagues to try and make himself more powerful but backfired and summoned a voidsent instead”.

I narrowed my eyes on the stone and bent down long enough to pluck it from his dead, clutched hand, “It would be proof enough for a pretty big payout but…”, I glanced back at Adam just before tossing it into the dying flame behind us, “I’d rather not have to see another one of those ever again if I can help it”.

He’d propped a brow up as I threw the relic into the fire but nodded all the same, “I’d have to agree… guess we’ll just have to tell the officials in Gridania that we got here just after they got mauled by some angry mushroom folk”.

“Why not Malboro?”, the smell of copper assaulted my nose as the gravity of the situation crept up on me again. I began moving away from the camp towards the large tree where the entire thing had started, “And how do we explain the star made of intestines? Pure coincidence?”.

Adam’s lips curved upwards as he walked next to me back towards sanctuary, “Magical game, as they say”.

“Magical game?”

“Yeah… it answers everything you don’t have an answer to.”

“You think they’ll buy that one?”

“Dunno. But I guess we’ll find out, hm?”

“Gods-speed, Adam Locke.”

“You’re welcome, babe.”

#balmung #ffxiv #g'iselle bellerose #ff14 #final fantasy xiv #final fantasy 14 #crystal data center #crystal roleplayer #balmung rp #crystal rp #Adam Locke

[peppertaemint]

What’s your take on memes, edits and fanart about mandatory service? I don’t know if fans of other kpop groups did this when their members were enlisting but I am seeing a lot from army and idk it kind of makes me uncomfortable. Maybe it’s just how I feel personally, but in my opinion mandatory enlistment is something serious and creating fan content based on it is a bit disrespectful, especially in spaces where it can be seen by the members. And not all of the content I’ve seen has been kind or nice. I guess I am just being overly sensitive. Perhaps I am the only one bothered by this.

No, you are not the only one bothered by this.

I've never, ever seen that with other kpop artists who enlisted. Doesn't mean it didn't happen, but honestly I've never seen it. Enlistment is kind of... serious? Becoming a soldier in a country that is still at war isn't a joke. Most people don't treat it like a joke.

It strikes me as vastly immature and privileged. People in countries not touched by war (or you know, countries who only conduct war away from home... ie. US Americans...) have the privilege to think it's all boys at sleep-away camp. Here in Europe, we still remember what our grandparents fought for, and we cry for the atrocities in Ukraine that are ongoing. On Korean TV, I've seen how enlistment affects the life of men--how difficult it is but how it can create bonds that last a lifetime. I've seen this in SHINee too--the good, bad, the heartbreak.

So yeah... those edits make me uncomfortable but maybe I don't have the privilege to find it all entertaining.

#idk just my take #kids are gonna be kids #hope they're kids my god #bts enlistment

[faelune-home]

FFXIV Write 2022: #27 Hail

(a/n: Hail instantly making me think of Shiva and Ysayle, so I was trying to think of ideas to write with her, originally having an idea based off Eden.

But in the end, I like her and Estinien’s tentative relationship and the growing closeness as they realise they’re not so different and could’ve been better friends in another life, or with more work. I still wish they’d had that chance ;-;

Set during the Chruning Mists journey, altho I do want to edit that last line and the ending, I’m not happy with it. Just needed something to submit on time.

Word count: 878)

Looking out over the scarred vistas of the Churning Mists left its own churning feeling in Estinien’s gut. The sense of confusion at the sight of Ishgardian architecture in such a far off place, so worn and ragged as to have clearly not been made by heretics. 

The destruction wrought upon the land, broken islands and melted trees, speaking of long and arduous battle between whoever lived here and the dragons. Maybe even between dravanian kin, if tales of Nidhogg’s rage were true that it would extend to his own kind if they so allied with man.

“Are you going to help us clean up our camp or are you just going to brood the whole time?” He scowled at Ysayle’s barbed comment, turning to face her.

“You were all handling it perfectly fine without me. And better to let the young lord manage some rough work for once,” he smirked, looking over her shoulder to see Alphinaud trying to shove a blanket into an already overstuffed rucksack. Fhara hurried over from her own packing, already starting to pull things free and help reorganise. Ysayle’s cough recaptured his attention and the smirk fell into a deep frown once more.

“Always a brute, aren’t you. I can see you’re not one for helping others, would you act like this even in your own corps?” she said, matching his scowl with an icy glare.

“My team back in Ishgard is more than capable of handling things on their own, they don’t need to be coddled like a babe still in blankets. And as for the present company, more hands would trip over each other rather than see much productive work done. Would it ease your mind if I said I was keeping guard or plotting our route forward?” Ysayle’s eyes narrowed, but he continued, pointing along the horizon as he went.

“A score of dragonets were flying around near the worn plaza, with a larger figure minding them nearby. The little blighters aren’t dangerous on their own but if they drew the attention of their guardian, that could cause us trouble. And further west along our planned path, an amphiptere lies in wait. Whether it is minding for whatever food comes along or it knows we’re here…” He trailed off, glancing back at her. She sighed and shook her head.

“Point made,” she mumbled. Looking out over the broken landscape, she hummed.

“Is that the only reason you find yourself on guard duty, or have you a thought for what you see before you?” she asked. Estinien huffed and crossed his arms, eyes scanning the plains.

“It’s a mess,” he said plainly, “A deserted mess, and it’s a wonder man ever managed to survive all the way out here…which leads me to believe they must’ve had some assistance one way or another. And unless they had an elaborate system to enable them to send materials up here from below, it is most likely from the wyrms here in the skies that helped them.” He bit back a growl as he heard Ysayle let out a victorious exclamation.

“Ha! So you admit it? Man and dragon did once call each other brothers in arms, did once live alongside each other?”

“I admit nothing,” he said, “But I concede the possibility that there was once some connection, some alliance. But irregardless of that, what is true now is that we have been at war for two thousand years. One side saw fit to backstab the other, and whatever kinship may have been had is long lost, dead and buried and sent to the deepest hells.” Ysayle stepped back at the building growl in his voice, but her expression stayed firm.

“Perhaps so,” she admitted, then noting his word choice, she asked, “But you admit then that it’s possible the treachery came from Ishgard?” He didn’t answer immediately.

After a long pause, during which the others in the party had finally found victory over the overstuffed travel bag and moved on to the final clean up, Estinien sighed.

“I see the lands before me and I concede the possibility of alliance that once was. That’s enough for me to think that Ishgard hasn’t been wholly truthful in its history. Fury knows what else the buggers in the Holy See have kept from us all these years then.”

“What would you do then after this? If simple chatter does bring an end to the war this day?” Ysayle asked. Estinien didn’t answer again, taking hold of his spear and looking it over in his hands. He kept it in good condition, but a mix of both their long journey preventing him from doing maintenance and the long years of fighting were showing their toll; chips along the pole, the blade’s tip growing dull, their reflection barely showing in the metal. Flecks of dried blood were scattered along the polearm.

“I came all this way in the hopes that peace could happen. Perhaps I wasn’t so fervently optimistic as you or Alphinaud, but the idea was sound. But after this…what would be left for me?”

“I’m sure there would be something,” Ysayle responded, but even she sounded uncertain, the future ahead still blanketed with a heavy fog, and all they could do was push on.

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2022 #my writing #ysayle dangoulain #estinien wyrmblood

[tehuti88-art]

1/5/24: r/SketchDaily theme, "Free Draw Friday." This week's character from my anthro WWII storyline is Constanze von Staden. She's Adalard's sister, and unbeknownst to him at first, works for the resistance. There'll be more about her later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se, though there's already some in Adalard's entry.

Regarding her design, I wanted her to resemble Adalard yet not look like his twin. I pictured her with black hair, but thought she might look too similar to Nixie, so made it dark brown. Her eyes are also bluer than Adalard's though I'm iffy on that. She's wearing a headband.

TUMBLR EDIT: I haven't much new yet to share about Constanze, older(?) sister of Adalard, a young Junker fighter pilot who briefly ends up in a labor camp. Most of her role in the story is already outlined in her brother's entry, linked above. I don't yet know, for example, what exactly it was that convinced her the Third Reich is evil and to aid the resistance instead, to the extent that she's willing to use herself as a honeypot to gain info on the SS. Perhaps this info will present itself sometime when I have more opportunity to brainstorm background characters. I can safely say she's very levelheaded, with steel nerves and great love for Adalard; she's the only one of their little family who dares to criticize the SS for what they did to him, while their father hides behind placation and their mother just cowers in fear. She sets to work seducing an SS guy in hopes of obtaining info on her missing brother while her parents simply accept the BS the Nazis feed them. (Vischer and Captain Altermann, two visitors to the camp, are the ones who end up getting von Staden freed, but Constanze does try her best, considering the lone resource she has to work with--her sexuality.)

For some reason Constanze's appearance, in my head, was never particularly "Aryan." Von Staden himself would be blond if I drew my male rats with hair, yet Constanze has always appeared as dark haired. As I mentioned though, I didn't want her to be a clone of Nixie, so gave her brown hair instead. She's quite serious in demeanor, though so is her brother, so maybe it was just the way they were raised; many of my Junkers are rather humorless and stoic, with a few exceptions (Katharina von Thiel, Wil Volker, and Hasso Reinhardt come to mind).

Anyway, I think now I'm just typing to fill in space that could be saved until I get working on her profile. I've FINALLY been adding my Trench Rats characters' profiles on Toyhou.se! You can find the folder HERE. It's still not caught up, but now that I've streamlined the profile format and decided to reserve the meat of the info for later addition, it's going much more smoothly! Feel free to check it out, and let me know if you'd like an invite code, I can currently generate...417 codes. Yikes. SERIOUSLY DOES ANYONE NEED A TOYHOU.SE CODE, I've only ever generated one and that person never visits the site, sigh.

I'll leave off here since I literally have nothing more at the moment. When and if Constanze's story develops, Toyhou.se is likely where it'll appear (I guess unless the site goes under :/ ).

[Constanze von Staden 2024 [‎Friday, ‎January ‎5, ‎2024, ‏‎3:00:57 AM]]

#artists on tumblr #ibisPaint x #SketchDaily #original characters

[dyeungjour450]

Week 14: Filing my last two stories (!!)

August 7 - 11

It's the last week of the internship, and I'm honestly a lot more excited than I thought I would be!

I'd been working on the ledes for the two remaining stories, and wrote them simultaneously. I find that it helps me organize my thoughts and narrow in on the angle of the stories better when I'm working on more than one at once.

The writing was seamless and painless this time. Perhaps it was because I had started thinking about the ledes and jotting down notes ever since I was in Waswanipi. Or maybe it was because being in the field really gave me a sense of where the story would be going.

I also found a Cree biologist, Eliane Grant, who gave me a lot of context and ended up being the bulk of my first article. Her work aims at bridging Cree knowledge and scientific research, which I find is a great anti-colonial journalism approach. I'm proud that for these stories, I have not had turned to what is traditionally considered as science, and only found Indigenous experts as a way to report equitably on a story that affects Indigenous people.

The first story was filed Monday and published on Wednesday, titled, "After the Fire." But by Wednesday, our social media had been blocked and the story received less visibility. But I noticed that science reporting resonates mostly with younger readers, and a lot of students had shared it.

I also filed the second article, which is about trap lines and still doesn't have a title, on Friday. It's still in editing, and likely won't be published until next week.

In the meantime, I also filed a social media video for the ecology story, and it was shared widely on Instagram to nearly 5,000 views, which is the most popular reel on my Instagram page.

I'm nearly done with my last video, which is on Donovan and his camp, and should be filing that on Monday evening.

All told, I'm quite pleased with how my productivity levels and output has been towards the end of this internship. I'm excited to write more in-depth reflections on everything I've produced, and can't wait to assess all of the losses and gains.

I've learned so much during this internship. I'm eternally grateful to Professor Gabrielle Brassard-Lecours for her supporting in applying to take JOUR 450, as well as pushing me to apply for the FPJQ bursary—without her, I would not have been chosen as one of the recipients for the $9,000 bursary.

I'm also deeply grateful to Professor Lucie Laumonier for her grace and guidance throughout the internship. I feel incredibly lucky to have had her ear and consideration whenever I was doubting myself or had difficulty navigating my workload. I've also learned so much more about myself and what kind of work I want to continue doing because of her advice.

And lastly, I'm so grateful to Chris for all of his love, grace, and endless support. He was the first to take a chance on me. And he continues to invest in me, even when newsrooms continue to shrink and the pressures in journalism continue to swell. I'm so grateful that he was my editor and publisher, and I'm proud to call him a friend.

This internship has provided invaluable experience and I can't wait to write about it in my essay. Most of all, I can't wait to look back on it and remember that this is where I started, where I was molded into the journalist I'll become.

[corneliussen16meredith]

If Responses Creative Completely Fail In Everything!

Creative minds have crafted the world the way they saw it. Many inventions, many innovations, many new branches of knowledge could unveiled by imagination. iobit driver booster pro crack activation key has got their creative sides. Some are born recognizing it and some live their life trying to still find it. People who were successful were market . used their creative sides to a larger use. Creativity can be an inborn talent from a form or the additional in every our. You can always get some self-help to creativity find out more about your creative side. The first entry for a creativity journal is simple: make an inspiration list. Quickly write down all the reasons you love supplementations craft responsibilities. Make it as long as you're able to and don't edit personally. If you want to within this, may possibly encourage children to worn out plays. Get them make up a story, then they can act versus each other to your family. Perhaps put on fancy dress costumes, use silly voices, have props. Won't matter have regarding expensive or look fantastic. They should be able to use their imagination to do these important subjects. Creativity grows when it's nurtured. If you're are creative, if you want to continue to be creative, then one amongst the primary things it is do through using let your creative mind know that. Nurture and cherish and are proud of your creativity, and the mind will just keep pushing the creative limits. It's like a child, a proper please you have to. Let your mind know your creativity pleases you. ytd video downloader pro crack 2019 have a pillow during my office that is emblazoned with mantra. I painted the pillow at Julia Cameron's creativity Camp in Taos, New Mexico over many years ago and I've strived to remember it ever since. Remember: it isn't about the finished product for a long, while. For the most part, creativity is on your process. Concentrate on the process and essential for will keep to. One of the great ironies of your creative world (and couple of different methods plenty) would be the by thinking too much on process, you'll end at the a better product. Are you creative (and why a person answer during you did)? Designating ourselves as either creative or even otherwise is probably a quick answer. Possibly have a yes or alternatively a no - or a yes with a no, numerous conditions surrounding those. Make the purchase anyway and answer this question, making guaranteed to include profit from part regarding WHY you answered means that in college. At its root, insecurity comes from fear for the unknown. They might be triggered by life experiences or other things, but none of us would be insecure once we had confidence about the future. Since that's not always possible, people who some other way to square the future without being insecure onto it. What is the ultimate antidote to insecurity? When movavi video suite crack activation key latest fails, bravery is the answer. Creativity and Imagination are not skills you teach baby however they may be skills you can nurture and strengthen. It can be a situation of "use it or lose it." Think of the development of one's child's creativity and imagination as you will do their physical development. Feed them and they'll flourish.

#free crack download