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not-poignant · 8 months

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@letsoulswander replied to your post “i'm listening to the sdv soundtrack right now and...”:

One of the things I really liked about Wind is that a few of the prominent emotional moments landed on in-game cut scenes for the characters. It helped my mind click them together into one story, instead of rejecting free-play video game story plot.

That's fair! It was easier to link Elliott and Alex in that sense because Alex spends all his time on the beach in summer, and Elliott lives there. And it was a much shorter story so I was using much more 'obvious' in-game links (especially since I jettisoned all the gameplay elements).

Stain is a lot longer and I feel like I'm not locked into forced cut scene-type moments. Maybe it's just that I've seen that scene like 15 times now and written a version of it that it's not that I'm burnt out on it so much as like... Alex hasn't been using it in the story so far, he's been thinking about his mom a fair bit, and she's not an entirely positive memory since he lost his grandparents (since he's been reflecting a lot more on how difficult his upbringing was in a different way to Wind, which frankly didn't really address anything in depth in some ways on that front aside from a handful of memories).

For me because Stain is a deeper story, I can go a lot deeper and I don't need to rely on the music box to do it. I can understand if other people need that! It'll just mean my story's not for them if I don't include the scene. However if, on the other hand, they've gotten 20+ chapters in and they like the story, they probably don't need that scene either. :D

#letsoulswander #reply post #a stain that won't dissolve #thespectaclesofthor #like still not saying the scene won't be in there #but i definitely don't feel obligated #or like that's the only avenue we have into alex's trauma and his feelings about his mom #whereas i felt very restricted in Wind #because Elliott doesn't push in the same way Sebastian does #and he doesn't have *memories* of Alex's family #the way Sebastian does #which changes absolutely everything on 'recollecting the past'#and ties it into Alex's upbringing #the bullying and a lot more #but i also have like...issues with that cut scene these days #i hate that you still end up laughing at alex in his most vulnerable moment #and you leave him distressed on the beach #even in the best possible ending/option #which has soured the music box scene a bit for me after my 1700+ hours of playing

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bananaguy404 · 2 months

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Me and ma boy reaching top 1000 baby! God! this week challenge is hell

#fun fact: we could only get 5 scraps #heck he turned in my body for 5 credit and we still got rank 1700+#lethal company

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sargeantgp · 7 months

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rolling my eyes so hard at that juncos article

#”I don’t think we need to make a big deal. This happens. The drivers can have the option not to use social media to block #the comments if they’re going to be sensitive to all that.”#“But 20 idiots saying something bad which obviously I’m not in favor of that at all #cannot be more powerful than all the good things that we did.”#these are just his comments about social media #callum gets like 50 fucking comments on a good post #the only post of his that still has comments on has 1700+#obviously some of them are going to be supportive but?? yeah most of them are gross #but pretty much just saying someone should not use social media?#fuck off #you’re literally begging the same people who said these things to him #to spend their own money on your car on social media #anyway i could complain about this more but it would be waste of my time #fuck him honestly

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kuiinncedes · 1 year

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700 more words TT

#have written 1700 words today aknjfkjgfhj #i wonder if my strategy of just writing whatever tf i can think of down first (what i've been doing today)#and then going back and organizing/elaborating/deleting/etc after will come back to bite me tho #idk i had a solid like 1000 words i think where i wasn't struggling too much to write what i wanted to write #and then i was like lmfao shit now what #ugh anyway i'm tired but i wanna finish the 2400 words today so i can do all that otehr stuff to actually make it coherent tomorrow #it's due tomorrow afternoon ;-; and here i am putting words on tumblr dot com instead LOL #and then i have exam on friday ;-; but i like that class but it is rly hard and i havent fully comprehended everything yet #bc i havent done any practice/studying yet ;-; so gotta cram after turning this project in lmfao rip #ahhhhfhajfghlsdbjksdfgjlkadhgaidrhg screaming so close yet so far still lol #bro i was like very productive for like a couple hours maybe this afternoon and then after that i've been . not as productive TT #1700 words tho !!!!! 700 more i can do it probably TT #i could've chosen a final project option that wasn't writing some kinda essay but iiiiiiii didnt :'')#i actually like somehow completely forgot about the fact that i was obsessed w rina's htg album and one of the options was like a playlist #option and i feel like a lot of the songs could fit w themes we discussed in class this asian am lit class :P #esp bc minor feelings and we read (parts of) the book minor feeligns lol #but i forgot about that until someone mentioned the song in class as part of Their project 💀#but oh well i mean i was thinking about the playlist project bc it #seemed like the easiest ngl LMAO but nothing was rly jumping out at me for songs #granted when i was thinking about it my mind blanked to just like taylor even tho i definitely haven't only been listening to taylor XD #ANYWAY WORDS 700 WORDS #sigh maybe that 12-3am grind will hit lmfao #jeanne talks #FINALS WE CAN DO IT GOOD LUCK TO ALL OF YALL DOING FINALS SHIT ANDGJFHGDJKDJFK

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afieldinengland · 2 years

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pamela (1740)

#guess what i have a seminar on later #this isn’t me saying This text has uncomfortable elements it’s evil etc etc etc obviously i’m not an idiot. we read these things for good #reason it was just hard going 😭 it’s pretty rough to a modern eye that doesn’t belong to a cisgender 1700s man #And you have to engage with these things. You can’t duck your eyes just because it upsets you. obviously #i just think it’s a bit of a weird text to jump straight into after tristram fucking shandy #also not really sure what we were meant to do if the text properly distressed us. not go to the lectures?#if my seminar tutor who is lovely but clearly a bit insane in that wonderful way everyone who studies english is #asks why i only read volume one i will tell her very honestly i couldn’t stomach anymore. Even that was hard #The lord’s prayer……. Well there were elements i had to breathe through

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ajarofpickledtears · 2 years

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shoutout to @ajokeformur-ray for actually managing to get me started on this assignment, it's been like... 5.5 hours, even though (due to breaks) I've "only" actually done stuff for 3.5 (paced around for 45 minutes and was on tumblr for a bit lmao)

anyway, there are surprisingly little descriptions of people's clothes (so far? I'm on page 254 of 442) and done with what I'd already read, though it might be enough to write about it? maybe?

now it's time for food though

#rn trying to find some more descriptions of oliver but the thing is that most things are #like... i dunno implied?#left to the reader's imagination in a way #I'm not sure whether we could include references to e. g. unkept physical appearance or a dirty living situation #in order to be like 'well their clothes probably arent that great'#essays are hard #at least it's actually only 1300 to 1700 words #cylas speaks

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xslytherclawx-writes · 8 months

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for those curious, this is my current top 10 for 2023, but this is last.fm, and apparently spotify's algorithm is insane and will jumble this all out of order when wrapped comes around

#last year i did not have this many plays in my top 10 by far #taylor was number one and she only had like 1700 plays #it's september 12th like we still have MONTHS to go

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vaspider · 5 months

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In defense of retellings & reimaginings

I'm not going to respond to the post that sparked this, because honestly, I don't really feel like getting in an argument, and because it's only vaguely even about the particular story that the other post discussed. The post in question objected to retellings of the Rape of Persephone which changed important elements of the story -- specifically, Persephone's level of agency, whether she was kidnapped, whether she ate seeds out of hunger, and so on. It is permissible, according to this thesis, to 'fill in empty spaces,' but not to change story elements, because 'those were important to the original tellers.' (These are acknowledged paraphrases, and I will launch you into the sun if you nitpick this paragraph.)

I understand why to the person writing that, that perspective is important, and why they -- especially as a self-described devotee of Persephone -- feel like they should proscribe boundaries around the myth. It's a perfectly valid perspective to use when sorting -- for example -- which things you choose to read. If you choose not to read anything which changes the elements which you feel are important, I applaud you.

However, the idea that one should only 'color in missing pieces,' especially when dealing with stories as old, multi-sourced, and fractional as ancient myths, and doing so with the argument that you shouldn't change things because those base elements were important to the people who originally crafted the stories, misses -- in my opinion -- the fundamental reason we tell stories and create myths in the first place.

Forgive me as I get super fucking nerdy about this. I've spent the last several years of my life wrestling with the concept of myths as storytelling devices, universality of myths, and why myths are even important at all as part of writing on something like a dozen books (a bunch of which aren't out yet) for a game centered around mythology. A lot of the stuff I've written has had to wrestle with exactly this concept -- that there is a Sacred Canon which cannot be disrupted, and that any disregard of [specific story elements] is an inexcusable betrayal.

Myths are stories we tell ourselves to understand who we are and what's important to us as individuals, as social groups, and as a society. The elements we utilize or change, those things we choose to include and exclude when telling and retelling a story, tell us what's important to us.

I could sit down and argue over the specific details which change over the -- at minimum -- 1700 years where Persephone/Kore/Proserpina was actively worshiped in Greek and Roman mystery cults, but I actually don't think those variations in specific are very important. What I think is important, however, is both the duration of her cults -- at minimum from 1500 BCE to 200CE -- and the concept that myths are stories we tell ourselves to understand who we are and what's important to us.

The idea that there was one, or even a small handful, of things that were most important to even a large swath of the people who 'originally' told the store of the Rape of Persephone or any other 'foundational' myth of what is broadly considered 'Western Culture,' when those myths were told and retold in active cultic worship for 1700 years... that seems kind of absurd to me on its face. Do we have the same broad cultural values as the original tellers of Beowulf, which is only (heh) between 1k-1.3k years old? How different are our marital traditions, our family traditions, and even our language? We can, at best, make broad statements, and of inclusive necessity, those statements must be broad enough as to lose incredible amounts of specificity. In order to make definitive, specific statements, we must leave out large swaths of the people to whom this story, or any like it, was important.

To move away from the specific story brought up by the poster whose words spun this off, because it really isn't about that story in particular, let's use The Matter of Britain/Arthuriana as our framing for the rest of this discussion. If you ask a random nerd on Tumblr, they'd probably cite a handful of story elements as essential -- though of course which ones they find most essential undoubtedly vary from nerd to nerd -- from the concept that Camelot Always Falls to Gawain and the Green Knight, Percival and the grail, Lancelot and Guinevere...

... but Lancelot/Guinevere and Percival are from Chrétien de Troyes in the 12th century, some ~500 years after Taliesin's first verses. Lancelot doesn't appear as a main character at all before de Troyes, and we can only potentially link him to characters from an 11th century story (Culhwch and Olwen) for which we don't have any extant manuscripts before the 15th century. Gawain's various roles in his numerous appearances are... conflicting characterizations at best.

The point here is not just that 'the things you think are essential parts of the story are not necessarily original,' or that 'there are a lot of different versions of this story over the centuries,' but also 'what you think of as essential is going to come back to that first thesis statement above.' What you find important about The Matter of Britain, and which story elements you think can be altered, filed off or filled in, will depend on what that story needs to tell you about yourself and what's important to you.

Does creating a new incarnation of Arthur in which she is a diasporic lesbian in outer space ruin a story originally about Welsh national identity and chivalric love? Does that disrespect the original stories? How about if Arthur is a 13th century Italian Jew? Does it disrespect the original stories if the author draws deliberate parallels between the seduction of Igerne and the story of David and Bathsheba?

Well. That depends on what's important to you.

Insisting that the core elements of a myth -- whichever elements you believe those to be -- must remain static essentially means 'I want this myth to stagnate and die.' Maybe it's because I am Jewish, and we constantly re-evaluate every word in Torah, over and over again, every single year, or maybe it's because I spend way, way too much time thinking about what's valuable in stories specifically because I write words about these concepts for money, but I don't find these arguments compelling at all, especially not when it comes to core, 'mainstream' mythologies. These are tools in the common toolbox, and everybody has access to them.

More important to me than the idea that these core elements of any given story must remain constant is, to paraphrase Dolly Parton, that a story knows what it is and does it on purpose. Should authors present retellings or reimaginings of the Rape of Persephone or The Matter of Britain which significantly alter historically-known story elements as 'uncovered' myths or present them as 'the real and original' story? Absolutely not. If someone handed me a book in which the new Grail was a limited edition Macklemore Taco Bell Baja Blast cup and told me this comes directly from recently-discovered 6th century writings of Taliesin, I would bonk them on the head with my hardcover The Once & Future King. Of course that's not the case, right?

But the concept of canon, historically, in these foundational myths has not been anything like our concept of canon today. Canon should function like a properly-fitted corset, in that it should support, not constrict, the breath in the story's lungs. If it does otherwise, authors should feel free to discard it in part or in whole.

Concepts of familial duty and the obligation of marriage don't necessarily resonate with modern audiences the way that the concept of self-determination, subversion of unreasonable and unjustified authority, and consent do. That is not what we, as a general society, value now. If the latter values are the values important to the author -- the story that the author needs to tell in order to express who they are individually and culturally and what values are important to them* -- then of course they should retell the story with those changed values. That is the point of myths, and always has been.

Common threads remain -- many of us move away from family support regardless of the consent involved in our relationships, and life can be terrifying when you're suddenly out of the immediate reach and support of your family -- because no matter how different some values are, essential human elements remain in every story. It's scary to be away from your mother for the first time. It's scary to live with someone new, in a new place. It's intimidating to find out that other people think you have a Purpose in life that you need to fulfill. It's hard to negotiate between the needs of your birth family and your chosen family.

None of this, to be clear, is to say that any particular person should feel that they need to read, enjoy, or appreciate any particular retelling, or that it's cool, hip and groovy to misrepresent your reworking of a myth as a 'new secret truth which has always been there.' If you're reworking a myth, be truthful about it, and if somebody told you 'hey did you know that it really -- ' and you ran with that and find out later you were wrong, well, correct the record. It's okay to not want to read or to not enjoy a retelling in which Arthur, Lancelot and Guinevere negotiate a triad and live happily ever after; it's not really okay to say 'you can't do that because you changed a story element which I feel is non-negotiable.' It's okay to say 'I don't think this works because -- ' because part of writing a story is that people are going to have opinions on it. It's kind of weird to say 'you're only allowed to color inside these lines.'

That's not true, and it never has been. Greek myths are not from a closed culture. Roman myths are not sacrosanct. There are plenty of stories which outsiders should leave the hell alone, but Greek and Roman myths are simply not on that list. There is just no world in which you can make an argument that the stories of the Greek and Roman Empires are somehow not open season to the entire English-speaking world. They are the public-est of domain.

You don't have to like what people do with it, but that doesn't make people wrong for writing it, and they certainly don't have to color within the lines you or anyone else draws. Critique how they tell the story, but they haven't committed some sort of cultural treachery by telling the stories which are important to them rather than the stories important to someone 2500 years dead.

****

*These are not the only reasons to tell a story and I am not in any way saying that an author is only permitted to retell a story to express their own values. There are as many reasons to tell a story as there are stories, and I don't really think any reason to create fiction is more or less valid than any other. I am discussing, specifically, the concept of myths as conveyors of essential cultural truths.

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morggo · 1 month

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It comes with a heavy heart to announce this. Starting April I'm no longer operating as a business and therefore will no longer accept any art related work and I need to cease my patron, ko-fi, and shop. I need to focus on me and my family's survival during this time.

The debt I've accrued since starting this business is becoming out of control and there is little incoming earnings from my art that justify maintaining it as a business. I pay nearly $700/mo on debts, my part time job pays roughly $1200/mo, and my art job pays anywhere from $300-800/mo, the higher end being a really good month. ECCC was a good time but I'm now left with just enough to get me through early April. My rent is $1700/mo. I haven't accounted for things like food. My partner is basically bed ridden and we may look into disability benefits for her soon. The math does not make sense and I have fallen behind on payments, because I am focusing purely on survival since the start of 2023. Since roughly September of 2023 I have been the only person with an income, and it has been very, very hard. I simply cannot operate like this anymore and making art feels absurd when everything around me that I've worked hard to maintain simply no longer works. There were promises of better opportunities that simply did not work out. The reality of it is, I have failed and my efforts have become too burdensome.

I will be completing any open work. I will try to fulfill any remaining rewards for Patreon and Ko-Fi. I will be mailing out remaining Kickstarter rewards when I have the income to do so. Everything in my shop must go. Considering the dire need to pay off debts I won't be hosting discounts. Recurring payments in Patreon and Ko-fi are halted as of today, March 20th. I am planning to have everything said and done by the middle of May.

I'm working on getting another job to control payments.

I'm going to still be making art, on my own time, as well as contributing to a personal project by some friends and myself. Maybe I can talk about that soon.

Thank you for your support over the years. Anywhere from liking, sharing, buying prints and my art. Thank you, and I'm sorry.

My shop is here: https://ko-fi.com/mxmorgan/shop

#text

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roosterforme · 2 months

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Why Not Forever? | Rooster x Reader x Hangman

Summary: The last night on the aircraft carrier should have been bittersweet as Bradley and Jake show you once again how good it feels to be shared by them. But you soon learn that the boys have plans for you beyond this deployment.

Warnings: Smut, anal, threesome, slight hangster, 18+

Length: 1700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader x Jake "Hangman" Seresin

This is a sequel to Why Not Both? and Why Not Again? But it can be read alone! Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley loved that fucked out, starry eyed look on your face as you rode him. You were babbling, barely able to focus, but your every movement was smooth and fluid. You were exactly what he needed. But he knew you'd never end up a begging, whining mess for him alone, and he was okay with that. After weeks of sharing you, maybe he even preferred it this way.

Your pussy was warm and inviting around him as he palmed your tits and squeezed your nipples a little harder. Your body was slick with sweat, only some of it your own. But the best part was the way Bradley could feel Jake's cock shoved up your ass every time one of them thrusted. And he could see Jake behind you on the bed, squeezing your hips and kissing your neck.

"Look at her face, Hangman. She's so far gone." Bradley gently took your chin between his thumb and fingertips and turned your head, showing off your parted, swollen lips and barely focused eyes to the man behind you. "She's beautiful."

"Like an angel," Jake agreed, thrusting a little deeper, making you just that much tighter for Bradley. A long, needy whine filled the air as Jake whispered, "You never had it so good, did you?" You shook your head in a jerky motion, and Bradley watched Jake kiss away a bead of sweat that rolled down the side of your neck.

You were exhausted, clenching softly around his cock when Bradley coaxed you to face him again. Then you muttered the first intelligible word that came from your lips in the last ten minutes. "Please."

He knew you needed to come, and you'd been perfect for the two of them up until now. You had taken care of them before they flew their mission and again directly afterwards, and you'd been spending your nights in their bunk on the carrier ever since. It was to the point that Bradley didn't care who knew about it, and he was getting that distinct feeling from Jake as well.

Bradley leaned forward and wrapped his lips around your nipple, earning another, more intense squeeze from your pussy. When you tried to roll your hips faster, he shook his head "You're close. Let us take care of you."

"Please," you repeated as both men filled you with sharp thrusts, leaving your head rolling back against Jake's shoulder. Bradley was entranced, the sight of your swollen clit brushing his neatly trimmed hair nearly sending him over the edge. He stroked your nipples and smiled as you tried to buck again, only to be stopped by Jake's hands on your hips.

"Easy, Angel," he drawled, and Bradley chuckled. "You'll get there soon enough. We just need a little more time with you first."

"If you didn't feel so fucking good, we'd have been done by now. But you have a way of making us want more and more," Bradley teased. Then he worked his tongue through his own mouth and watched the stream of saliva as he spit where you and he were connected. He ran his thumb through it and said, "But I think you just about earned it," as you whined.

"Please!"

He rubbed your clit a little with his rough fingers, spitting again as Jake released your hips and focused on squeezing your tits from behind instead. "Yeah," he agreed. "She earned it. She always does."

The relief written on your face made Bradley grin as you looked down at him working his fingers in deliberate circles. When he kissed the valley between your breasts, he could taste the salt of your skin and feel Jake's fingers in his cheeks. "Never thought I'd be sorry to see the end of a deployment," he whispered, licking a stripe up to your collarbone. He nibbled on you as Jake grabbed at your breasts a little harder so you cried out. "Never had this much fun before."

Then you reached behind you with one hand and stroked Jake's cheek while you teased Bradley's hair with your other hand. He knew you loved the way they worshipped you. All the dirty glances and winks across the common areas really got him going, but they sent you straight to your knees as soon as you were in their bunk. And the thought occurred to Bradley that it would never be this good with anyone else. He knew there wasn't another woman who stood a chance.

"Fuck," Jake grunted, and Bradley could tell by the way your body was rocking that the man behind you was about come in your ass. "God damn it," he groaned, burying his face in your neck and whining.

You were grinning now as you bounced on both of them, knowing Bradley would make sure you got what you needed. But he had to be certain you knew the price you were paying at this point to be allowed to come on their cocks. Bradley and Jake didn't do this with just anyone, and he needed to be sure you understood that. Be sure this wasn't the last time.

"How bad do you want it?" Bradley rasped, pinching your clit and ramming himself deep.

"So bad!" you cried out as Jake's movements became more erratic.

"Say it," Bradley demanded through gritted teeth, sweat beading on his forehead. "Tell me you belong to us. And not just for tonight." He was close now, but he kept rubbing you just right and coaxing you to keep your eyes on him. "We want you in San Diego too, Baby."

Jake's hands roamed the font of your body as he moaned against your skin, and Bradley watched your pupils grow wider as your thighs shook. Your pussy clenched around him as you managed to say, "I'm yours."

You came with Bradley, your lips meeting his as he fucked you all the way through your orgasm. Your kisses were sweet even as you were a cum filled mess for the two of them, and you let Bradley pull you down with him as he eased himself back onto the pillows to catch his breath.

"She's ours," he confirmed for Jake who was kissing your shoulder as you curled up on Bradley's chest. Then he pressed his lips to your hair and whispered, "Our good girl."

Bradley could feel Jake's softening cock on his thigh as he came to rest against your back. You coaxed Jake closer and closer while you kissed Bradley, and then you shared your kisses with one man and then the other until the three of you were kissing. Bradley couldn't wait to get back to California.

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You weren't sure what you were expecting when the guys both invited you over to Bradley's place a few days after the end of the deployment. The three of you had spent that last night all curled up in one bed together, sweat and cum and sweet, dirty talk everywhere. You shivered just thinking about the way it felt to be sandwiched between their strong bodies in every position imaginable. They made you feel sexy and safe.

You wanted more from them, but you hadn't dared to dream that it could continue here. That sharing you had become something they wanted as much as you did. You'd never be able to choose between Bradley's effortless allure and Jake's natural charisma. You wanted both, and you shivered with anticipation at seeing them here on dry land.

They'd never seen you in anything except your khaki uniforms and your most basic underwear, but something was telling you that tonight was going to be a little different. As you slowly made your way up the pathway from your car, you straightened your dress over your pretty lingerie. You wanted them to destroy all of it.

Almost immediately after you knocked, the front door swung open, and you were met with two pairs of eyes, green and brown, raking over your body like they'd been craving you for months. "Boys," you said smoothly as you squeezed between the two of them and into the living room. You couldn't help but add, "I missed you," as you spun around to face them with a smile.

"You have no idea," Jake drawled, kicking the door shut and closing the distance to your lips. He kissed you, wrapping his hand gently around your neck as he said, "We got you a little something."

His smirk matched Bradley's as the other man pressed himself against your backside. "Something pretty for you to wear," he added, his voice a deep rumble.

"What is it?" you asked, looking up at Jake as Bradley snaked one arm around your waist from behind. When he opened his hand in front of your chest, you looked down at his palm and saw a gold necklace with two charms that made you gasp.

"You like it?" Bradley asked next to your ear, his mustache sending a ripple of need along your skin when he grazed you.

"Yes," you whispered, your body already clenching.

Jake looked at you eagerly as he asked, "Will you let me put it on you, Angel?"

"Please," you whined, knowing you sounded exactly like you had in their bunk on the aircraft carrier. You watched his fingertips glide along Bradley's palm, and then both of them were kissing you as he clasped the chain around your neck. The cool charms settled against your skin, and you let them lead you toward the bedroom.

You couldn't be sure who was talking to you and who was touching you in your blissed out state, but you could feel fingers tangle in your new necklace chain. You would have to strategically hide the charms that said Bradley and Jake underneath your uniform shirts when you were at work, because you weren't going to be taking your necklace off anytime soon.

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Living the dream. We are living the damn dream. I had a lot of fun with this. Maybe there will be more of these three. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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hedgehog-moss · 10 months

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I was trying to get my donkey to eat the weeds around my vegetable garden (under strict supervision so he wouldn't pretend to mistake my rhubarb for a weed) and I got a visit from two people on bicycles, who said they were staying at a campsite and cycling from farm to farm trying to find information about their ancestors, who according to family documents, lived in this region in the 1600s. Like a genealogy-themed holiday—that's a fun idea. I told them the name of the family who owned my land in the late 1700s and said I didn't have info beyond that, but they should try the nearby monastery, whose nuns wrote a book about local families, using historical photographs & archives found in schools and town halls. They were very happy with the tip.

The monastery is a nice hiking destination (you've got to follow this eerie road that I love) and the nuns have a tiny shop where they sell homemade gingerbread and jams as well as painted eggs, one time I took a friend on that hike and we stopped to buy rose petal jam and an egg from them and a nun showed us that book they'd written and told us about their interest in local archives, so I think they'll be delighted to help these visitors. I'm myself delighted because it's kind of a milestone when you live alone in the woods, to be validated in your role as a forest creature by strangers on a journey asking you to provide them with the information they need to complete their quest. Looking back on it I only wish I'd phrased my answer as a riddle, and issued a tempting warning not to touch the mysterious glyph engraved on a rock by the side of the road (I need to go engrave one first)

#crawling along

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fandom-geek · 3 months

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btw, the violinist in tmp 4? he's probably james smithson, of "founder of the smithsonian institute" fame

so what do we know about our violinist? he grew up in alnwick abbey, he was illegitimate and had legitimate full siblings, a father "certain of his celestial significance", and he has a nephew to whom he leaves his violin

and smithson? well, his father restored alnwick abbey in the 1750s, which was in ruins up until then. smithson was the only illegitimate child of any of the dukes there in the 1700s, which is when the statement is set

smithson also left his estate to his nephew after his death, with the condition that his fortune would establish the smithsonian institute if his nephew died without any children.

here's a point of divergence, however. in our timeline, smithson was a chemist and mineralogist. in tmagp's timeline, he was a violinist. however, as u/New_Helicopter836 pointed out to me on reddit, when smithson's body was disinterred by andrew graham bell, his right little finger was such that it suggests he played "the harpsichord, the piano, or a stringed instrument such as a violin"

looking at smithson's life, he left for university in 1782, so it's likely that tmagp 4 is set around the same time. it might be a bit earlier since the royal court orchestra moved from mannheim to munich in 1778 (putting smithson at about 13), it might be another point of divergence, or smithson is describing it this way to call back to its earlier significance. i'm not sure, but it's weird either way.

all that said, i'm not terribly sure why smithson describes his father (sir hugh smithson/percy, duke of northumberland) as "certain of his celestial significance", especially when the only other time he says celestial is to describe the violin's music. the user i mentioned before found that sir hugh, a major patron of architectural projects, had an observatory built, but i find smithson's language too specific. is his father an avatar too? mannheim is only a bit north of schwartzwald, after all, and this is about thirty years before tmag 23 where albrecht writes to jonah magnus.

let's look a little at smithson's bequest to found the smithsonian institute in the first place. smithson asked for it to be "an establishment for the increase and diffusion of knowledge among men". the magnus institute, notably, is described in the arg as a place of education, and it was founded in 1818. although smithson died in 1829 and his nephew in 1835, the original smithsonian (the columbian institute) was granted a charter by the us government in 1818.

the letter is strangely absent of any names for the violinist or his family, and i can't help but wonder if this is why. and if it is because this is smithson - is this related to why the magnus institute exists instead of the magnus archives? the smithsonian, before it was renamed, was originally granted a charter by the us govt in 1818 - the same year that the magnus institute was founded in tmagp.

this is set 30 years before we know anything of jonah magnus, at least in tmag, so is it possible that he persuaded smithson to fund his educational institute focusing on the supernatural? the changed course of smithson's life from scientist to supernatural violinist would certainly be conducive for that, not least to mention the strange absence of his fortune from his letter to his nephew.

#tmagp #tmagp spoilers #already posted this on reddit but fuck it im doing it here too #i'm strangely suspicious that his dad might be an earlier body that jonah possessed #briefly brushing his dad aside as “certain of his celestial significance” just seems like a perfect description for him but it's so vague #and it wouldn't explain the whole smithsonian/magnus institute thing but the refs are way too specific to smithson #for me to believe otherwise #alnwick abbey was legit a ruin for all of the 1700s until sir hugh and his wife elizabeth restored it so it's either james #or a completely fictional equivalent but why so many specific refs to his life then???#the magnus protocol

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likedovesinthewindd · 3 months

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pookie!!! saw u are taking saltburn requests!!!!

thoughts on farleigh + reader with the same amount of snark as him?? like initially not being able to STOMACH each other & biting each other’s heads over (both ignoring felix’s groaned requests to “keep the peace”) and then being like…. wait why r u….kinda……

just that back and forth banter would be so good with him + ur WRITING!!! big smooches mwah

ugghh your mind!! love this and love you, sending smooches back ×100 !!! (fem!reader, wc: ±1700)

"I don't understand what's wrong?" you asked, briefly looking over your essay again before sparing your tutor a confused glance, waiting for his input instead. "There's nothing wrong with it," Farleigh's voice only deepened your frown, "It's just a little... loose."

"Loose?"

"Yeah, loose. You don't have a really strong argument," he continued, head resting in his palm as he peered at you from where he sat on the couch. "I'm sorry, but I don't agree with you. My argument is quite coherent right throughout," you said. "Maybe, but is it convincing?" he said, small smile on his lips that made your blood boil.

"Okay," you sighed softly, "How about your essay, Farleigh?" you asked, internally reveling at the way his cocky smile faltered. "I'm working on it," he huffed after a short pause. "Well until then, keep your comments to yourself."

"I was just trying to help," he retorted.

"Oh, screw you."

"Alright, I think we can end tonight's session early. Give you some time to finish up," your lecturer interrupts. "And give you, mister Start, time to actually begin?" he gives Farleigh a pointed look.

You hastily packed your things away before wordlessly making your way out. Your poor tutor must've been used to the two of yours constant arguing by now, seeing as that was how many of your sessions ended. You never saw eye to eye and the banter was stupid most of the time, but Farleigh had a way of getting under your skin like no one else could.

You were beginning to think he had some sort of personal vendetta against you, even though you really couldn't think of ways that you've wronged him in the past that deserved that sort of behavior. He loved embarrassing you, and as many times as you've tried to be the better person, you just couldn't help from slipping your own little comments, satisfaction only really gained when you managed to wipe the smug smile from his face.

Farleigh had completely spoiled your mood, and you figured the best way to forget about your day would be to go out for a few drinks. You definitely felt like a loser going to the pub alone but you wouldn't have been great company anyway. You however, very quickly regretted your decision when you saw the very source of your foul mood sitting by one of the tables causing a commotion as he often did. Felix saw him before he did, excitedly calling out to you and asking you to join them.

Farleigh wasn't as excited as the rest of the table at your presence, but you refused to let him ruin your night.

"Funny seeing you outside." Farleigh said, ashing his cigarette in the ashtay in the middle of the full table. "Why would it be funny?" you asked. He pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows. "You're just such a homebody, hardly see you anywhere," he said. "But it's probably for the best, right?" he added, and you already sensed a verbal lashings following. "You'll need all the extra study time if you're gonna keep up."

"Farleigh," Felix silently scolded, but by now your heart was already beating in your ears, irritation setting deep inside your chest and making you feel hot with rage.

You bit the inside of your cheek. "You always seem to forget that you got into Oxford on favors," you said, watching the way the corner of his mouth twitched, facade still holding strong. "I'm not the one partying my life away. If anyone needs extra study time, it's you." In retrospect, it probably was a low blow, but the ethical line was hardly visible when it came to Farleigh.

The silence at the table was all consuming, and Felix, like the godsend he was, decided to speak up and end the wordless staring competition between the two of you. "Okay, uhm, shots. We need shots," he said, everyone quickly agreeing with him. "C'mon Farleigh, come help me," he said, practically dragging the boy along with him.

From there it only got worse the more time the two of you spent together, which was quite frequently because you ran in the same circles. You were friends by chance, only really connected through Felix, who you've known for years. Your mothers were friends, and the two of you quickly became close through her visits to their sprawling estate, often dragging you along. You've met Farleigh through Felix, and though it was evident the two of you didn't get along, Felix was still determined to try and make it work.

₊˚⊹

You were beyond relieved to be able to spend the summer away from uni and get a chance to breathe again without any academic stress. You had planned to visit your mother back home until Felix had asked you to come to Saltburn to spend the summer with them instead.

"C'mon," he tried, "Venetia will be so happy to see you again. And mum." You bit the inside of your cheek, contemplating his offer carefully. It wasn't an extremely difficult decision; the days at Saltburn served as some of the best memories you've ever made.

You certainly didn't regret accepting his offer either. The last few weeks have been amazing at the grand estate, exciting and overwhelming in the best way. It would've, however, been much better if Farleigh wasn't looming over you like a dark cloud. You genuinely tried to keep the peace, but he knew exactly how to aggravate you. You could see it was beginning to irritate everyone around you, especially Felix.

"Will this work for tonight?" you asked, smoothing your hand over the soft material of the dress. It was so easy to run out of appropriate attire when you had to give your best every night at Saltburn. Tonight was special, and although you weren't specially dressing up for the Henry's, you still didn't want to embarrass Elsbeth by being underdressed.

Venetia was lounging in the bed while you paced around the room. "You've already worn that dress," she said, making you huff. "I know," you whispered. "We can get something from my closet," she said as she stood up from the bed and made her way to you. "Or we can ask mum. Don't worry," she added with a smile.

₊˚⊹

The dinner was kind of dull, the Henry to your left not nearly as entertaining as the one to Venetia's left judging by the quick glances she spared you every time one of his jokes fell flat. Every now and then, your attention would sneak over to Farleigh; a pensive look thredded between his furrowed brows when his eyes caught yours.

The highlight of your night was definitely after dinner, when sir Catton had suggested karaoke. You were quite amused by Henry's rendition as the lot of you watched as the man made a fool of himself. Farleigh took a seat next to you on the couch, sparing you a smile.

"You clean up nicely," he smiled, sparing a look down at your dress, the sparkly material reflecting the warm light from the fire. His hand ghosted over the necklace around your neck, fingers tracing over the small pendant. You prayed that he didn't notice the way your breath caught in your throat at the little bit of contact.

"Thanks," you answered, smoothing a hand over the lapel of his suit jacket. "You don't look too bad yourself." He only scoffed, eyes now focused on your hand as it retracted from his chest. You didn't spare him another look, attention refocusing on Henry's recital.

The whole affair was getting boring, and before you knew it, your thoughts were back to Farleigh, a question on your mind that you've been burning to ask him. "Can I ask you a question?" you turned, asking before you lost your confidence. He raised his eyebrow in interest, urging you to continue. "Why do you hate me?" you asked. The question caught him off guard, rendering him speechless for the first time since you've known him.

"I don't," he started before scoffing, "I don't hate you." You pursed your lips, shaking your head in disagreement. "You do. At least you act like you do." He only smiled, shuffling closer on the couch, face impossibly closer to yours as he gave you a once-over.

Even though the topic was quite loaded, it was ironically the calmest conversation the two of you have had in a long time. It was reminiscent of the time the two of you were younger and still getting to know each other. Somewhere along the line, something shifted, and he started treating you like shit. You only returned the favor.

"You weren't always this mean either," you added. His eyes still examined the expanse of your face; trailing down the slope of your nose and into the dip of your cupids bow. His attention made you feel self-conscious in a way, tongue poking out to wet your lips.

You had no reason to even feel self-conscious, but Farleigh had a special talent for making you feel small in his presence. Somewhere beneath the irritation and resentment hid a feeling that made warmth settle deep in your belly everytime you saw him. It's a feeling you only gave yourself the luxury of experiencing in the dead of the night when your thoughts were all that kept you awake. The overbearing anger would subside and then that funny feeling would settle over your body and deep inside your chest in a near painful way.

You never called it by it's name, too scared that if you did it would manifest itself and become reality. But now as the two of you sat on the couch, the cheering and singing fading into background noise as a pair of deep brown eyes stared into yours, you finally had to courage to admit it to yourself.

"I don't hate you," he repeated one more time, voice slightly breathless and a sullen look on his face. "On the contrary, actually." That made you laugh almost too loudly. "So what," you scoffed, "you act like a teenage boy and pick on me because you had a crush on me?"

He shrugged, the motion causing the refined material of his suit to rub against your arm. "Maybe I just wanted your attention," he smiled, placing a brief kiss to your cheek before briskly getting up from the couch to cut Henry's musical number short. You uncleanched your balled fists that were bunching up the expensive material of your dress, the tension leaving your body with a sigh once Farleigh's words register.

#saltburn #farleigh start x reader #farleigh start x you #farleigh x you #farleigh x reader #farleigh start #likedovesinthewindd

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mkzmerryfriend · 2 years

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Newsflash: the world is almost always in some kind of turmoil. The only difference is that starting with the millennial generation, we have always been aware of all of it all at once. Our grandparents and great grandparents only had to deal with the turmoil and issues that reached them, we have simply made it so much easier for things to reach us. It’s a two-way street, we made this technology in order to reach others easier, but so too does the bad and sad shit reach us easier.

#I really just need people to understand that our brains have not had time to evolve to adapt to the technology we’ve created #technology has moved so fast that evolution is too slow to catch up to us #which is kind of obvious I mean the innovations made in the 1700s were too fast #but anyway it’s just a fact that we weren’t built to live like this #we can only realistically effect that which is immediately around us #whether that be the thoughts of others or the safety of others or the respect of others #you cannot topple governments on your own and often it requires you be near said government #I don’t know just take a break and let your brain rest

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cambion-companion · 8 months

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Here’s ya girl who has gone completely feral over astarion. He’s the babiest baby. Okay, here’s the prompt. My characterisation could be a bit (or a lot lol) off bc I haven’t played the game Y E T so feel free to change the things that seem OOC.

Established relationship, but the beginnings of it, on a mission to find a way for astarion to be in the sun again. Reader has given astarion time to work on his sexual trauma so they haven’t been having sex for some time. Reader is 100% ok w that. But they have a big argument over something (not related to sex) and astarion doesn’t know how to resolve the situation other than reverting back to his seductive artifice and using sex as a way to ensure his safety (in this case, emotional safety). Reader figures it out because they (or she) are not dumb. They reassure astarion and he lets himself be vulnerable but also, it turns out that astarion wants that sexual intimacy. But reader decides this will be all about astarion and making him feel good and loved. Body worship, astarion’s praise kink, just everything focused on astarion’s pleasure in a way he has never experienced and that makes him completely unravel once he comes. Not a subby reader, tho. You know me, I don’t do subby.

If this is too long of a prompt, just the sexy part will be ok. Thank you so much, i have such astarion brainrot DDDD:

I Want to Live

word count: 1700

gn!reader x Astarion | Baldur's Gate 3 fanfic | 18+ only

"I don't think we should use the tadpoles for anything, Astarion." You put your hands on your hips, glaring at the sulky Elf in front of you.

This tense conversation between the two of you had gone on far longer than you'd have liked. Astarion seemed insistent on using whatever advantage the Illithids had unintentionally given your party. Despite not yet knowing the implications of doing so.

Astarion's silver hair glinted in the firelight that warmed your back, his eyes shone like droplets of blood. "You might as well leave me alone, spoilsport." He waved an imperious hand in your direction, sneering at you in the way he knew would hurt you most. "Since you insist on being boring and unimaginative."

You ground your teeth. "I'm trying to keep us safe."

"And a fine job you're doing, my sweet." His lilting voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Why don't you ask Arabella how her parents are doing?" He paused, then feigned surprise. "Oh wait..."

Your eyes widened as a jolt of genuine pain lanced through your heart at his callous words. Astarion was aiming to do damage and, like always, he knew how to push your buttons.

Magic sparked at the end of your fingertips as you fought to control your rage. It was the lack of verbal response that alerted Astarion to the fact he might have pushed a little too far with you. His face almost looked regretful for a moment, or perhaps it was a trick of the firelight casting shadows across his features. You didn't gain much insight because of the tears blurring your vision as you quickly turned away and strode as far away from the vampire spawn as you could.

Shadowheart, who always seemed to overhear everything, cast a worried glance your direction before leveling a glare on Astarion who still watched after you with a blank look.

You sat yourself upon your bedroll before the campfire and listened to Volo squeakily tune his lute. Wyll and Gale were over by their tents chatting and Lae'zel sat on a boulder by the river sharpening her sword.

You had thought Astarion would understand and perhaps even agree with you, and the rest of the camp for that matter, that the parasites should not be utilized to gain control of other beings. It was convenient and downright useful, yes...but not worth an unknown cost.

You had thought...since that night when the two of you had become intimate...that he'd maybe come to care for you. But that jab about Arabella's parents, who you'd failed to save, only confirmed that the vampire did not have your best interests at heart.

Sighing, you moved your bedroll away from its usual place beside Astarion's and arranged it next to where Karlach slept. You could feel multiple pairs of eyes watching you move about but you didn't much care at the moment.

Karlach gave you a curious and concerned look as she came over and got comfortable for the night. "Are you alright? I could hear you and Astarion going at it...and not in the fun way."

You grunted and moved your body to the side so you could scrape out a rock that had been digging into your back. "It's fine. He's just an ass." You said these words loud enough for him to hear.

Karlach shrugged and nodded as if this were common knowledge. She gave you a jolting pat on the back before getting comfortable in her own bedroll.

As the breathing patterns of your companions slowly deepened in slumber, you could not find any rest. You tossed and turned as best you could in such primitive sleeping arrangements. You missed your bed back in Baldur's Gate above the taproom of the Shadowcat Claw, the familiar bustle of voices and a mug of ale in your belly lulling you to sleep. Out in this wilderness, with the thought of your argument with Astarion tugging at your thoughts...you had to get up.

As quietly as you could, you slid out of your bedroll and got to your feet. A quick observation of your companions told you they were all in a deep sleep. All except Lae'zel who sat on the boulder still, keeping silent watch. She nodded at you curtly as you passed and didn't ask any questions, for which you were grateful.

You crept through the foliage down to the place in the forest by the river where you and Astarion had had your midnight tryst. You could still feel his moonlight hair running through your fingers, his fangs on your neck as you arched it just for him. The trust...you thought you had at least earned a little bit of his trust.

"I thought I'd find you here." His voice was velvet, it shivered straight through your defenses to your heart.

"I wanted to be alone, Astarion." You tried to keep your own voice cool and collected, but you ached to hold him in your arms again.

Astarion had followed you from the campsite into the woods. He'd been fully aware of your restlessness, of course he had. He entered your line of sight now, looking very much like a cat stalking its prey. His ruby eyes were dark and trained on your face. "Come now, you're far too obvious for all this bluster. Do you not want to feel me again?" He gave you a crooked smile, showing his teeth. "A second taste, perhaps?"

You felt the hollowness of his words and saw the carefully arranged expression he wore like a mask. Beneath the facade you could make out the telltale twitch of a facial muscle, the tenseness of his eyes, indicating anxiety.

You sighed. "I thought we were passed these games."

"Games?" Astarion's tongue flicked out to wet his lips. "Games are all part of the fun, my dear. So good at getting the blood pumping."

You folded your arms. "I want an apology."

This tripped him up. For a moment the facade slipped, and he seemed genuinely taken aback. "Apologize?" Then he was back to his usual bluster. "Me? Apologize for what?"

"For having a go at me today. Bringing up Arabella's parents when you know how upset I am about it." Astarion made a noise as if to speak but you cut across him. "That was cruel, Astarion, and I deserve better from you."

"I didn't..." Astarion sighs heavily, his eyes glancing down to the ground then back at your face. "I apologize." The words seemed to pain him in some way. "I wanted to get a rise out of you, that's all. Now let's forget about that and have some fun."

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow, saying nothing, simply watching his face lit in the silver moonlight. His unconvincing grin slowly slipped off his face, a troubled frown replacing it. The two of you looked at each other for a long moment. Finally, you spoke.

"You're testing how much I care for you, aren't you?" Your voice was soft, almost inaudible over the rippling stream.

Astarion seemed momentarily taken aback, he seemed to consider taking shelter once more behind his mask of pompous indifference. But then his shoulder's slumped slightly, the fists at his sides loosened. That was all the answer you needed.

You stepped forward and placed your hands around his, tugging him closer. He did not resist, his footfalls light as ever as he drew near. Close enough to feel his breath warm your lips.

"I care about you, Astarion." Your voice was still soft amidst the rustling leaves and sparkling water. "I discourage you from using the tadpole's powers because I couldn't bear to see your will overtaken by yet another monster."

Astarion was silent for a long time, his scarlet eyes turned silver as a moonbeam fell across his pallid face. When he spoke, his voice sounded strained. "What if it's too late for me? To be anything other than a monster? My only choice is which one." He laughs forcefully, bitterness twisting his mouth.

"I won't let that happen." You encircled him tenderly in a hug, pulling him to rest flush against your body. "We're in this...together."

"Together." The word was echoed back to you, his voice framing the syllables as if it were a foreign tongue.

You turned your face into him and kissed his neck softly, feeling his body tense in your arms and then slowly relax. You kept your lips against his skin, over where Cazador had sunk his fangs all those centuries ago.

Astarion's hands slowly slid up your hips to rest against your lower back as he held you close. Your lips caressed his neck, throat and trailed up to his jaw until you pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I love you." You murmured.

You felt him tense again, not pushing you away, but his hands tightened on your back. "I..." Astarion hesitated. "I'm not quite ready to say those words back to you, my dear."

"I know." You felt no anger, no hurt. You accepted him however he wished to come to you, grateful for this rare moment of vulnerability beneath the stars.

You pushed him back gently until his back made contact with the base of a large sycamore tree. A huff of air left his lungs, quickly claimed by your mouth as you kissed him hungrily this time. Your hands made quick work of his clothing and Astarion became eager to help the process along.

"Vixen." He murmured and you laughed against his lips, your tongues teasing each other.

"You're beautiful, Astarion." You held his face in your hands and kissed his mouth lightly, not allowing him to turn away even as the compliment made his eyes search yours for hints of disingenuity. "I want nothing from you in return." You said firmly, reading his emotional turmoil through your shared Illithid connection. "This is just for you." You kissed his mouth, his cheek, his forehead. "To keep."

Astarion's head fell back to rest against the tree trunk as you continued lavishing affection upon him. He moaned your name softly to the night sky as you slowly sunk to your knees before him, the dirt and rocks digging unheeded against your knees. His fingers twisted in your hair and guided you to where he wanted you most.

"Good, my love." You praised him, your words causing his body to shake with increasing pleasure. "Show me."

The night was long and full of bliss. A genuine exchange of pleasure, without the previous facades and plays at affection. You felt the change as surely as he did, and when the others awoke in the morning it was to find your bedroll pulled back right next to where Astarion lay curled against you.

"You owe me five gold, Shadowheart." Gale mumbled.

#baldurs gate 3 fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #gale bg3 #shadowheart #bg3 fic #bg3 astarion x reader #astarion x tav #karlach #astarion romance #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction

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