#Whirlpool Connection Verse

[missmungoe]

I give you: The Navigator’s Map of Shanties for the Weary Voyager!

So my husband got the idea to make a timeline map of my Shanks x Makino series ("Shanties" for short), so that readers could better see how the different fics are connected, and while I should have been prepared, knowing full well how brilliant he is, I was not prepared for the end result. I mean look at it!!!

Some descriptions of key fics and planned updates below! The fics are listed in the recommended reading order on AO3, but feel free to chart your own course! Beware rogue whirlpools and dangerous straits, and remember that however dark and treacherous the sea, at the end of the voyage is always a safe harbour ♥

Hoist the colours! 🏴‍☠️

Heed the Siren’s Call // Shanks and Makino’s origin story, and the starting point of Shanties. Setting is pre-series to the timeskip.

Sailor's Folly // Siren's Call from Shanks' perspective. Includes the origins of Makino's sword, Siren.

Sea Songs // Sequel to Siren’s Call, set during the canon timeskip and after.

Scylla // Pirate!Makino AU, where Makino leaves East Blue with the Red-Hair Pirates at the start of One Piece.

Charybdis // Sea Songs AU, where Blackbeard destroys Fuschia and Makino goes on a trek across the Grand Line looking for Shanks, who thinks she's dead.

Mnemosyne // Kuja!Makino AU, where after Siren's Call, a pregnant Makino ends up on Amazon Lily.

Andromeda Unbound // Reverie Arc AU, where Makino, the Revolutionary Army, the Red-Hair Pirates, Straw-Hats and the Warlords join forces to crash Shanks’ execution.

On the Water // Pirate!Makino AU, where Makino and her child leave East Blue with the Red-Hair Pirates after the timeskip. Includes Shanks and Makino's floating bar, Siren's Call.

Salt Vows // Arrested!Makino AU, set during the current Egghead arc.

Tethered to Kinder Shores // Makino and the Red-Hair Pirates. Includes the origin of Makino's shanty, "Moored to Her Port".

Moon and Her Maiden // Selkie AU. Canon OP verse but Makino is a selkie.

Tideswept // Royal/Arranged Marriage AU.

Bind Me to the Tide // Soulmate AU, where soulmates feel each other's pain. Canon OP verse but with soulmates.

Love In Good Liquor // One-Shot collection set during the different Shanties verses.

Planned updates

This list is not comprehensive (meaning I have more fics that I plan to continue than the ones listed here), but it's the stories I'm focusing on right now:

Andromeda Unbound // Chapter 9/9 ✅ (Complete)

Bind Me to the Tide // Chapter 5/? ✅

Mnemosyne // Chapter 29/29 ✅ (Complete)

Salt Vows // Chapter 3/? ✅

Tideswept // Chapter 8/9

On the Water // Chapter 4/5

#Shanks x Makino #opfanfic #One Piece Makino #OP Makino #Red-Haired Shanks #Shanks #One Piece #these tags are going to be a little unhinged but AHHHHHH LOOK AT IT!!!!! #IT'S AN HONEST-TO-GOD *PIRATE MAP* #when he said he was making a map I thought it would just be the titles with lines between them??? #this...I have no words #the sheer amount of work and detail that's gone into this #THE ISLANDS #the COMPASS ROSE #THE WHIRLPOOL AND THE SEA MONSTER AND THE TINY SEAL #and just...the composition?? #I want to print this and hang it up #oh my *god* #this man #9 years married and he still sweeps me off my feet :´) #otp: sing me sea shanties #Shanties for the Weary Voyager

[moulinblanc0800]

why wandering clown is wataru singing to eichi

or, wataru's second solo from the fine trip album lyric analysis as seen through a wataei lens (honestly though this song is so incredibly specific to his and Eichi's story 😭)

Thank you to lucidstars on youtube, whose translation I based this off. Let's begin!

Verse 1: A wandering clown crosses the sea of stars while taking light steps, as if kicking beads

'Sea of stars' makes me think of outer space, how Wataru views himself as an alien or monster, something otherworldly.

A few other things come to mind: stars are very Eichi symbolism, like in his first solo Shining Star; and Jingle Bells, when the Angel flies through the sky with Eichi. The beads are immediately reminiscent of Eichi's solo Crystal Pleasure. (There's actually an insane number of parallels between the two solos as we'll see.)

The applause is for you, my whole soul that goes into a whirlpool of emotion And to be able to lock eyes with you in the garden of joy would be such a wonderful thing (showtime)

This is a stretch but walk with me. The first line is daydream. "A resounding applause (kassai ga hibiki wataru)" is the first line. The applause was for Eichi alone, while Wataru was enmeshed by all his conflicting feelings at the time.

In Wataru's words to Eichi in Blackbird, which directly follows daydream: "It’s as though something I cannot quite comprehend is stirring inside me", "as though he were a child who had just tripped for the very first time in his life."

I tried looking up garden of joy (歓喜の園 kanki no sono) to see if it was a reference but couldn't find anything. But I did think of the garden of Eden and the idea of exfine being holy angels, divination...idk.

Chorus: Let’s sew countless sparkles into this dream Sing as the wings of love flap Tonight at the end of the world, the clown you invited Will deliver a surprising song you’ve never heard before

This part screams Blackbird, where Eichi and Wataru write the next part of their story. In fact this is pretty much blatantly repeated by Eichi in Crystal Pleasure: "I want to connect all the sparkling moments" and "let me give you happy dreams". (I really have to do a separate analysis for Crystal).

Wings of love --> can be Wataru's bird imagery, callback to Jingle Bells' Angel, or the continued bird imagery in Blackbird

"At the end of the world"- In Neo Sanctuary, fine sings "And that is the Neo Sanctuary, the blooming new world I offer this victory to". In the same sense, they were at the end of the old world, about to embark on a new one, with the clown that Eichi invited... to fine :) [Oh this is ALSO mentioned in Crystal Pleasure's second chorus: "I’ll invite you into the brilliance, towards the tomorrow that you wish for"] This is one of the most blatant Wataei parts of the two solos.

Verse 2: Tied together with mischief, the melody of the constellations echo so close to each other every time you resonate your wish I want to speak to those eyes of yours, on this stage coloured by enthusiasm

The star imagery continues... Suspiciously in alignment with Crystal Pleasure. I will note that the same word for wish 望む is used here as in Crystal's second chorus. Both Wandering and Crystal sing about eyes countless times, I'll let you play with that yourselves.

But maybe I’m the only one who wants that When the curtain rises, the boundaries fade away I can almost feel your breath, you beautiful person

This part. Ough. Again, walk with me, this is like a reverse, or parallel of daydream. "Maybe I'm the only one who wants that"--when Wataru, unlike the other Eccentrics, was always fascinated by Eichi and even went to join fine, to the befuddlement of the rest.

In daydream, Wataru catches Eichi as the curtain falls, telling him that the audience is still watching, and commenting that it's unsightly (jury's out on whether he was talking about Eichi or himself, but anyway). Meanwhile, Eichi thinks Wataru "beautiful". They are so close that Eichi coughs up blood on Wataru's face.

These last lines of the second verse aren't daydream, but they're the present. Instead of a falling curtain, it's a rising curtain. And they're close as ever, so close he can feel his breath. And in this implied performance, they're standing on the same stage. In Wataru's words in Diner Live: "I wanted to stand on the same stage as you, Tenshouin Eichi [...] Unlike the confrontation of the past, a “what-if” that shows a past where we are standing shoulder-to-shoulder, or maybe even in the present. That’s the kind of dream I wanted to see."

Yeah. I'm. I'm normal

The second chorus ends with two different lines:

Tonight at the end of the world, the clown you're dancing with Will deliver an incredible dream just as you wish for

At this point

they're just not hiding anything are they.

Now that I'm done destroying myself here, I have to do Crystal Pleasure god i have to do crystal pleasure. I hope u enjoyed this post! Thank you for listening to me bend my back over for them. Feel free to add on if you noticed anything else.

#wataei #hibiki wataru #tenshouin eichi #enstars #ensemble stars #how do i even tag this #song analysis #lyric analysis

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 07/10/2023 (Jung Kook/Jack Harlow, Ed Sheeran's 'Autumn Variations', 163Margs/Digga D)

Content warning: Brief mentions of violence, sex and... corpses (last two only loosely related)

For a fifth week, Doja Cat reigns on top of the UK Singles Chart with “Paint the Town Red”, and it’s a semi-busy week ahead of us so welcome back to REVIEWING THE CHARTS!

Rundown

As always, we start the episode with this week’s notable dropouts, songs exiting the UK Top 75 - which is what I cover - after five weeks in the region or a peak in the top 40. For this week’s goodbyes, we bid adieu to “Single Soon” by Selena Gomez, “Rave Out” by Turno, Skepsis and Charlotte Plank and some big hitters like “Barbie World” by Nicki Minaj, Ice Spice and Aqua, “Padam Padam” by Kylie Minogue, “Relax My Eyes” by ANOTR and Abel Balder and finally, “REACT” by Switch Disco featuring Ella Henderson and the late Robert Miles. These are honestly mostly a shame, I like the vast majority of these songs.

As for our returns, we don’t have any, but as for our gains, there is a pretty long list, all over the chart too. This week feels kind of like a rehaul, and redecorating the walls, bear with me, we have “Little Things” by Jorja Smith at #65 off of the album - more on that later - “Escapism.” by RAYE featuring 070 Shake at #59, “On My Love” by Zara Larsson and David Guetta at #57, “Mr. Brightside” at #55 (Jesus Christ), “Would You (go to bed with me?)” by Campbell and Alcemist at #48, “Feel It” by Jazzy at #45, “Calm Down” by Rema at #40, “Back on 74” by Jungle at #36 (yay), “Got Me Started” by Troye Sivan at #34 (ugh), “ecstacy” by SUCIDAL-IDOL at #33 (huh), “Liquor & Cigarettes” by Chase & Status and Hedex featuring ArrDee at #29, “Dog Days are Over” by Florence + the Machine at #28, “Used to be Young” by Miley Cyrus at #26, yes, I’m still going, “What Was I Made For?” by Billie Eilish at #25, “Snooze” by SZA at #20, “Bittersweet Goodbye” by Issey Cross at #19, “DNA (Loving You)” by Billy Gillies featuring Hannah Boleyn at #18, “My Love Mine All Mine” by Mitski at #15(!) and all the way to her first top 10, Tyla at #10 with “Water”.

The top five of this week’s UK Singles Chart starts with a debut from Jung Kook of BTS featuring Jack Harlow at #5 with “3D” - more on that later - and the rest is standard: “Prada” by casso, RAYE and D-Block Europe at #4, “greedy” by Tate McRae at #3, “Strangers” by Kenya Grace at #2 and of course Doja Cat on top. Now it’s time to get through our rag-tag group of songs debuting in the top 75 this week.

NEW ARRIVALS

#74 - “Mosquito” - PinkPantheress

Produced by Greg Kurstin, PinkPantheress and Mura Masa

We don’t know when that next PinkPantheress full-length is coming, but for now it does make sense to keep pushing out singles and seeing what sticks. She adds Greg Kurstin as a co-writer and producer alongside more expected collaborator Mura Masa in a song about spending problems, jauntily recounting over glading acoustics and a thumping backbeat about spending a fortune out of sheer will, acknowledging how much she’s losing but becoming attached to materialism and possessions instead of finding much human connection. I do appreciate the swell of strings in the chorus and how well the guitars play off of that, alongside her nonchalant flutter in the back, but as with most of her tracks it does feel a bit underdeveloped, and in this case, a bit derivative as the verse treads the exact same lead vocal melody as her collaboration with Skrillex and Trippie Redd from earlier this year, “Way Back”. With that said, it’s still a good foundation and the increasing submerge of the song into the whirlpool of strings is a pretty good way of signifying a lost cause, yet I really feel like a bridge is needed to cement that a bit further. If there’s an album in sight, I’ll give it the benefit of the doubt given that this could work a lot better in that context but as is, it’s just good, needs that little extra to be great.

#69 - “Stick Season” - Noah Kahan

Produced by Gabe Simon and Noah Kahan

This song from 2022 by folk singer Noah Kahan has been a sleeper hit for a while and perhaps in part due to a recent cover by Olivia Rodrigo, it got one last push that resulted in it finally cracking the top 75 criteria. Kahan is a singer-songwriter in a pretty traditional sense so there’s a lot of lyrical detail here, regarding a breakup of a long-distance relationship, with that, the weather and the ongoing pandemic pushing Kahan inside, isolated from communication aside from his friends coming around for Christmas, over a sprinkling of twangy acoustics and stomp-rock percussion that’s increasingly tedious. Kahan’s jumbling of the meter is charming but dampens the impact of an otherwise pretty effective chorus, and the bridge’s solo is a tad underwhelming, so we have a pretty nonchalant-sounding song fronted by a singer whose voice I’ve never liked and still not gotten used to, and backed by a dated pounding of a drum that gives me a migraine come the final chorus. If what was inside your sandwich was great but the bread slices at the top and bottom had gone off, you sadly end up throwing away the whole sandwich.

#63 - “Babydoll” - Dominic Fike

Produced by Dominic Fike

And now for a particularly more modern singer-songwriter, with another sleeper hit, but this one is even older, appearing on his 2018 demo EP before he blew up to the level he is at now. I can only assume there’s some TikTok virality to this because there really isn’t much to this as a song. We have a simple riff with some cool countering over-dubs, placed beside a typical steady indie drone of percussion and Fike’s lead vocal which would be decent if he had any convincing rasp but alas, he just sounds like a prepubescent Anthony Kiedis, especially when he’s “rapping” in the completely unfitting verse, essentially acting as a bridge - or awkward insertion of a completely different song - with bizarre flows, monotone whining and odd interruptions amidst the continuation of a still tedious rhythm section. I guess this is only a demo but that’s why you don’t release everything you make, kids, because this is just nothing to speak of with a confusing mid-section seemingly grabbed from elsewhere in the drafts. Now for something probably a whole lot more finished…

#50 - “Feelings” - Jorja Smith featuring J Hus

Produced by DAMEDAME*

I have yet to listen to Jorja Smith’s newest album falling or flying but it did debut at #3 and produce a charting track here, probably thanks to a feature from J Hus. The chanting that starts the song is pretty exciting before we have that drizzling of reverb coating everything, from Jorja’s echoed vocals to the surprisingly intricate bassline, which sounds drier when placed against that pattering of Afrobeats drums. Content-wise, it’s a bit of a scuffle where Jorja succumbs to J Hus’ temptation for some Sexy Times, and interestingly enough, not only does the guest rapper stay on topic, he handles the chorus, playing a really effective back-and-forth foil to Ms. Smith, even if he’s not nearly as good or as nuanced a singer and performer. He goes for a kind of Wyclef Jean yelp that makes him sound a bit less convincing and more desperate, which is just interesting considering how well Jorja’s convinced, or at least seems to be from her second verse. As with the rest of the singles, the production details - even if a bit more minimal this time around - are impeccable and very smooth, especially with the swirl of strings after the pre-chorus and distant sound effect-esque loops that decorate J Hus’ incredibly charismatic rap verse. The disharmony between the two is actually a pretty interesting narrative touch, especially since Jorja is just echoing what J Hus is trying to convince her with, almost as if this is being played back in her mind and she might be a bit more regretful about that as implied in the first verse and pre-chorus. I might have to give that album a listen because this level of detail and interpretation, if carried across a full album, would contribute greatly to the already good year of R&B for me. This is brilliant.

#49 - “Magical” - Ed Sheeran

Produced by Aaron Dessner

Ed Sheeran released his newest album on his own label, Autumn Variations, which still went #1 but is largely an acoustic-focused album produced by Aaron Dessner of The National with decidedly very few hits. I have yet to hear it in full, but it still produced two charting songs, with this one very much in Ed Sheeran’s wheelhouse: it’s a cute, kind of staccato love song with his choired-up multi-track vocal he often delivers nowadays. However, it’s not for bittersweet purposes like it often is: it’s a love-struck track with an echoing, kind of distracting drum pattern, a really melodramatic synth and bass swell that doesn’t end up damaging the subtlety of the song mostly because there isn’t all too much to begin with. Sure, it’s a subdued ballad, but it’s one that adds odd tension through trap-influenced drums that are mixed in a muddy, kind of gross way below the very heavy vocal focus, and the lead melodies here get very saccharine and pretty infuriating quite quickly. It’s a shame, because it’s a very genuine and cute track lyically, but it’s also too simple for me to forgive the production misgivings here. Thankfully, he has a second shot later in the chart.

#38 - “Hide and Seek” - 163Margs and Digga D

Produced by SJ Beats

It’s pretty funny to me that there is a solo version that’s actually longer. Even people relying on Mr. D for hits and are otherwise unknown don’t seem like they want to have Digga on their songs too badly. Anyway, this church organ is pretty much the lead melody despite how basic and empty it is, and even then, it’s somehow clipping and the sample chop is painfully obvious and awkward. That sheer incompetence should be all you need to know because whilst 163Margs has some promise in terms of his energy, his flow isn’t new and his content is just a lot of gang violence not delivered particularly interestingly, and then we have Digga D giving so much detail I’m surprised the government hasn’t investigated him a second time. I don’t even have a problem with this kind of content necessarily, but I wish the production or delivery was in any way compelling, because I’ll forget about this very soon.

#27 - “American Town” - Ed Sheeran

Produced by Aaron Dessner

I’m not sure if this counts as a single push exactly, but this is the furthest Ed’s going with this rollout so the song better have some potential and yes, this is more of what I expect from Ed, especially writing wise, with the intricate details that emphasise how real the narrative is whilst also being able to detach it from a lot of pop culture - the pre-chorus has the line “live the life we saw in Friends” which I think is particularly poetic considering Ed’s place in the industry - as well as wordy but charming moments of culture shock that come with being in love with an English girl in an American town. The production is a lot less distracting here too; I wish the shaking percussion was lower in the mix or not just there but the filtered synths, kind of sounding like farty horns, make a bit more sense than I feel like people will give credit. It’s a nostalgic song that muddies the clash between past and present, or Hell, even future in the bridge, and those horns as well as the more subtle synths add a lot of detail in an honest, vintage-sounding way. It’s not perfect-sounding, but that’s much of the appeal. It’s also sadly nothing new from Ed, it’s a pretty expected pop-folk cut that sounds a tad rough around the edges but not enough to threaten its radio play. Overall, it seems pretty solid but it’s not exactly convincing me that the full album is worth checking out.

#5 - “3D” - Jung Kook featuring Jack Harlow

Produced by BloodPop and David Stewart

Well, I figured “Seven” would need its follow-up soon enough and Jack Harlow is definitely a very approachable American rapper for a collaboration, though I’m not sure if the addition of a western guest rapper is doing as much heavy lifting as how effortlessly catchy the songs can be, so I hope he doesn’t end up getting someone on every track he releases. Regardless, this song is about Jung Kook from BTS wanting to have sex with you. If that puts you off immediately, I mean, you won’t like the Jack Harlow verse. Regardless, we do have an arguably more subtler set of lyrics here, with Jung Kook wanting to get straight to the choose over a much more solid, funkier groove, backed by a simple but effective bassline and choppier drums, alongside a weird Latin guitar intrusion that kind of works--oh, this is a Justin Timberlake song. He even sounds like Timberlake a lot of the time, with about as much charisma and weird hip-hop crossover attempts. If anyone is going to produce a Timberlake lite, BloodPop is probably a good choice, and Jung Kook has the playful ad-libs, no-holds-barred commitment to the bit and more chemistry with Mr. Harlow than I really expected, given that Jack actually gives some backing vocals on the chorus and references the BTS star’s sex appeal on his verse… though not his, which is kind of funny. In fact, Jackman is oddly slippery here, and it’s largely for the best as the beat gets much more percussive, with him slipping through flows and flexes, and making good use of a corny counting conceit, as well as saying that you would have thought the girl’s body was a dead body with the way he told all of his friends to come look. I will admit, it’s a pretty corny, hard to take seriously song but I don’t think I’m supposed to, and both guys have enough fun without really overdoing it into ridiculous territory… except for when Jack Harlow ad-libs “Spy Kids” in the background, that… that was stupid. Oh, and PC Music and hyperpop pioneer A.G. Cook made a remix which makes way too much sense yet ends up way worse than you’d think considering his expertise. It’s pretty ugly.

Conclusion

This really was not the best week, though far from the worst, as we have a lot of middling tracks, but the only real great song here is “Feelings” so Best of the Week goes to Jorja Smith and J Hus, with a loose Honourable Mention to “Mosquito” by PinkPantheress, I guess? As for the Worst of the Week, I think there are quite a few snoozefests, but 163Margs and Digga D end up with it for “Hide and Seek”, with a Dishonourable Mention for “Babydoll” by Dominic Fike. Ed Sheeran’s “Magical” was closer than you may expect though, I really don’t like that one. As for what’s next, it’s Drake, Drake, Drake, so thank, thank, thank you for reading and I’ll see you next week!

#uk singles chart #pop music #song review #jung kook #jack harlow #ed sheeran #autumn variations #163margs #digga d #jorja smith #j hus #noah kahan #dominic fike #pinkpantheress

[myhapserv]

Enhancing Your Laundry Experience: Reliable Washing Machine Services in Coimbatore

Introduction:

In a bustling city like Coimbatore, where daily chores demand efficiency, a malfunctioning washing machine can disrupt the smooth flow of your household. Whether you're a busy professional, a homemaker, or a student, having a reliable washing machine is essential to keep up with the demands of modern living. In this blog post, we'll explore the importance of timely washing machine services in Coimbatore and how they can contribute to a hassle-free laundry routine.

Washing Machine Service in Coimbatore

Why Regular Washing Machine Services Matter:

Optimal Performance:

Regular servicing ensures that your washing machine is operating at its optimal performance. Technicians can identify and address any issues before they escalate, preventing unexpected breakdowns.

LG Washing Machine Service in Coimbatore

Extended Lifespan:

Just like any other appliance, a washing machine has a finite lifespan. However, with proper care and regular maintenance, you can extend its longevity. Servicing helps in identifying and replacing worn-out parts, preventing major breakdowns.

Energy Efficiency:

A well-maintained washing machine is more energy-efficient. Technicians can clean filters, check for leaks, and optimize settings, ensuring that your appliance runs smoothly without consuming excessive energy.

Samsung Washing Machine Service in Coimbatore

Choosing the Right Washing Machine Service in Coimbatore:

Professional Expertise:

Look for a service provider with a team of experienced technicians. They should be well-versed in servicing various brands and models of washing machines.

Prompt and Convenient Service:

Time is of the essence when your washing machine is acting up. Choose a service that offers prompt and convenient scheduling, minimizing the downtime of your appliance.

Bosch Washing Machine Service in Coimbatore

Transparent Pricing:

A reliable service provider will provide transparent pricing, ensuring that you understand the costs involved before the service begins. Avoid hidden charges by choosing a reputable company.

DIY Maintenance Tips:

While professional servicing is crucial, there are some maintenance tasks you can perform on your own to keep your washing machine in top condition:

Siemens Washing Machine Service in Coimbatore

Regular Cleaning:

Wipe down the interior and exterior of your washing machine to prevent the buildup of detergent residue and mold.

Check Hoses and Connections:

Periodically inspect hoses for signs of wear and tear, and ensure that all connections are tight and secure.

IFB Washing Machine Service in Coimbatore

Use the Right Detergent:

Using the wrong detergent or excessive amounts can lead to residue buildup and affect your machine's performance. Follow the manufacturer's guidelines for the best results.

Whirlpool Washing Machine Service in Coimbatore

Conclusion:

Investing in regular washing machine services in Coimbatore is a proactive approach to maintaining the heart of your laundry routine. By entrusting your appliance to experienced professionals, you not only enhance its performance but also ensure that it serves you well for years to come. Don't let a malfunctioning washing machine disrupt your daily life – schedule a service today and enjoy the convenience of a smoothly running appliance.

#LG Washing Machine Service in Coimbatore #Samsung Washing Machine Service in Coimbatore #Siemens Washing machine service in Coimbatore

[carlosreyesg26]

Project

Definitions

Story: Is a narrative, either true or fictitious, in prose or verse, designed to interest, amuse, or instruct the hearer or reader; tale.

Tales: A tale is a story, especially one that's full of creative embellishments. You can read a tale from a book, or tell a bedtime tale to the kids you're babysitting.

Science fiction: Abbreviation SF or sci-fi, deals principally with the impact of actual or imagined science upon society or individuals. 

My science fiction story

My name is Carlos Reyes, and I'm on a mission that defies the boundaries of time, seeking to rescue a world gasping for water. We possess the "Time Portal," an incredible invention that allows us to travel through time.

Our diverse team includes scientists, engineers, and nature lovers. We gather in a world where water is rarer than kindness. We carry the responsibility of fixing the past and ensuring a future where every drop is valuable. With unwavering determination, we step into the colorful whirlpool, leaving behind a world on the edge of collapse.

In our current time, water is a precious treasure, desired by all. It's a world where throats are dry, and rivers barely whisper. Our mission is as clear as the clean streams we long for: eliminate water waste and plant the seeds of conservation.

Our journey through time takes us to the year 2030. Sprinklers water lawns, showers flow endlessly, and taps provide water abundantly. It's a time of excess, unaware of the upcoming drought. We identify the problems: lack of awareness, bad habits, and indifference to nature's gifts. We embark on a journey of dialogue, advocating for change. We promote water-saving devices, emphasize the value of each drop, and urge people to appreciate the liquid life.

But challenges arise. Resistance from profit-driven industries, apathy from a society blinded by indulgence, and the strong inertia of routine stand in our way. We confront the ignorance of the past.

Years go by, and we adjust our strategies. We find allies in unexpected places and overcome the odds. Through collective action, the world gradually adopts water-efficient technologies, reconsiders its connection with nature, and learns to savor every drop.

And now, we return to our era. The world has transformed. Water scarcity is a nightmare that fades away, and nature thrives once more. We haven't just mastered time; we've conquered a calamity that once seemed insurmountable.

I, Carlos Reyes, am amazed by our journey through time, a voyage that reshaped humanity's connection with its most cherished resource. From scarcity to abundance, we've demonstrated the power of unity and determination. Our mission to eliminate water waste was not just a temporary trip; it was a testament to human resilience and adaptability.

References

Picture of the story

To make this picture I used Bing and I said to the program "I want a futuristic city where there is no water and at the front of the shot there is a man who has futuristic clothes and behind him there is a time portal"

[kalsaprpakeshshuklaguruji]

Break Free from the Grips of Kalsarp Yog: Unveiling the Kalsarp Yog Nivaran Puja

Are you feeling trapped in a cycle of challenges and setbacks? Do you believe that an ancient cosmic energy is hindering your progress? It's time to break free from the clutches of Kalsarp Yog and pave the way towards a brighter future. Discover the transformative power of Kalsarp Yog Nivaran Puja, a sacred ritual that can release the grip of this celestial alignment and bring harmony and success into your life.

In Vedic astrology, Kalsarp Yog is considered a potent dosha or unfavorable alignment of planets. It occurs when all the planets in a person's birth chart are hemmed between Rahu and Ketu. This cosmic formation is believed to create a whirlpool of negative energy, causing various obstacles and misfortunes in one's life. However, with the divine intervention of Kalsarp Yog Nivaran Puja, you can neutralize these malefic effects and unlock your true potential.

During the kalsarp yog nivaran puja, skilled Vedic priests perform intricate rituals and invocations to appease the celestial forces and seek their blessings. The puja acts as a powerful catalyst to mitigate the negative influences of Kalsarp Yog, creating a harmonious balance in your life. By conducting this ancient ceremony, you can attract positive energy, overcome hurdles, and manifest prosperity in all aspects of your existence.

The Kalsarp Yog Nivaran Puja is a multi-step ritual that includes elaborate preparations, sacred chants, offerings, and prayers. The experienced priests meticulously analyze your birth chart to determine the specific nuances of your Kalsarp Yog and customize the puja accordingly. With devotion and reverence, they invoke the deities, seeking their divine intervention to nullify the malefic effects of this astrological phenomenon.

Participating in the Kalsarp Yog Nivaran Puja can bestow numerous benefits upon you. It can alleviate financial difficulties, enhance career growth, remove obstacles in relationships, improve health conditions, and bring overall peace and prosperity. The puja acts as a spiritual shield, guarding you against negative energies and empowering you to make positive choices in life.

Apart from the immediate benefits, the Kalsarp Yog Nivaran Puja also fosters personal growth and spiritual development. It facilitates introspection, self-awareness, and inner healing, enabling you to align your energies with the cosmic flow. By connecting with the divine forces, you can tap into your hidden potential and achieve greater success and fulfillment.

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[sillyfudgemonkeys]

"Replace the personas with another supernatural element" oh I just meant if they went full final fantasy and just had P5 still be a mainline persona game but have it's world and lore disconnected from 3 and 4 (like, ignoring the inevitable fan backlash that would have at the start)

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh................ Tbh I don't know enough about FF to really do a....good job transferring Persona into a similar format. I know that summons, Chobos, and Cid are a common thing...... But I can try....

Ignoring that it wouldn't just be disconnected from 3/4 (but also 1/2).

Hmmmm I mean.....people (*cough*me*cough*) were theorizing that P5 might take place on an alt timeline to P1-4 prior to the release. So I don't think that it not being on the same timeline as those would be an issue for the fandom. So doing one more level of separation might not be that pad either.

Similar to FF, there would be similar terms that we see namely: Personas and Shadows. I doubt we could do much with changing their mechanics. And people will def draw a comparison to Palaces and the TV World Dungeons (I'm sure there's other similar overlaps in FF).

But regardless how we tweak separate it, P5 itself, has established it's own canon in it's own game. Even if Shadows/Personas are the same as the other games, P5 still explains what it is in it's own game. And it does this with the new rules it sets up for itself. Which, again, is all fine and good, but then it caves in on itself. Like a domino effect, or a spiraling whirlpool. It starts off as a small inconsistency before it grows bigger or you get sucked down deeper as they start to pile up and you realize that P5 has more holes than swiss cheese.

Low hanging/quick fruit examples: Why didn't they attempt to just ride their Personas at *insert issue*? If only Mako/Futaba can ride their Personas, why is that? Aren't they the same material? And why if everything is connected by Cognition, did the Sphinx still exist after Futaba was aware that the Sphinx wasn't her mom? ("Silly, P5R shows that she still doesn't 100% believe" shhhhh shhhhh SHHHHHH! Shit bandaid is what I call it, and really spits in the face of her literally facing her shadow. And it's all reliant on the MC saying the wrong thing. If you don't, she continues to deny the stupid thing so it's just pointless and not really showing she still has hang ups. All in all, the boss should've just disappeared all together). I mean the owner's Cognition is reflected in their dungeon no? Then why doesn't Futaba's change? "She's not in control" That....really makes no sense tho.......the world is still influence by her state of mind (it's why the world looks the way it does!), regardless if shadows are usurping her own Shadow Self or not. It flies in the face of the game's whole cognition thing.

That is something within the world of P5, it's own rules it's set up, and it breaks them time and time again. It's something that needs to be fixed, regardless if we pull a FF or keep it in the Persona verse.

That's without getting into the characters inconsistencies and it's themes bouncing all over the place and moving goal posts.

At least, this is the case of what we have now with P5. So I standby, P5 needs to be ironed out before I think it works.

But if you are wondering if Persona, in general, could work similar to FF? I don't see why not. It's kinda what they do with MegaTen anyway (not every single game is connected to another). But yes, if we could just isolate each game and not connect them, I wouldn't be opposed to that. I'm already a fan of alt timelines and universes.

Devil Survivor and Persona don't really have that much in common except the demons/Personas and maybe some other core elements that belong to the rest of the bigger franchise of Megaten.

#silly asks #silly answers #broken record that I am XP #why i hate mako's dungeon 'destroys the characters/characters' consistencies' #why i hate futaba's dungeon 'destroys the game's own damn lore'

[fleckcmscott]

Coffee & Donuts

Summary: Arthur’s thrilled to be part of a crowd. Though the evening doesn’t go perfectly, Y/N’s flirtations make it sweet.

Warnings: Smut

Words: 4,602

A/N: Alright. After the heart wrenching angst of my last piece (which I love, by the way; don't get me wrong! 😂), I had to write another story in which Arthur and Y/N are happy and together. It's inspired by one of Arthur's visions during their kiss. I hope you all like it! Special thanks to @jokerownsmysoul for beta-ing!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Parties and celebrations weren't foreign to Arthur. He'd worked plenty, enough to make him realize what he'd been missing out on. He was well-versed in pin the tail on the donkey, musical chairs, and balloon animals. But as an adult, those activities didn't satisfy. He wanted to be included rather than paid. Connect with people, introduce himself. Discuss his experiences and pursuits. Feel sufficiently at ease to loosen up a little and have a good time.

Now he was a guest - a certified guest - at Patricia Gorman's fifty-sixth birthday party. The first party he'd been invited to since being the weird kid in class who'd rotated between three worn out sweaters and could never afford a gift.

He'd been a tad apprehensive about going to Burnside. Gotham's nicest borough had a reputation for high rents and low tolerance. When Y/N and he had entered 2E, however, Patricia's greeting ("You made it!") and the apartment were thoroughly welcoming. Crocodile brown walls and forest green shag carpet made the spacious living room a cozy hideaway. Marigolds leapt across the polyester of the T-cushion sofa and its easy-chair companion. The floor lamp's amber, crimped glass shades cast the spacious living room in a glow borrowed from warm autumn days.

Patricia's husband, Robert, was out on an emergency call. An HVAC had gone haywire in a residential building in Hinckley. Her daughter, son-in-law, and grandson had been by for lunch. That meant the only other guests were Matt - Y/N's old boss - and a bottle-blonde in a black halter dress and spike heels, who Y/N introduced as Laura. ("She's Matt's ex-wife," Y/N later disclosed. "He's been trying to win her back since I moved to Gotham.") Both shook Arthur's hand when he offered it, and he felt a little thrill whirl his stomach when Y/N laid claim to him by telling the woman, "This is my husband."

A collection of appetizers served as dinner, a fun and novel menu. The slow cooker meatballs Y/N and he had lugged over on the subway were a bit tangy; he still couldn't believe the recipe called for grape jelly. The deviled eggs with paprika, a pleasant mix of savory and sweet, was a dish he'd heard about on television. Cream cheese and cucumber sandwiches were light and airy, a good match for his iced tea. Only the artichoke and spinach dip gave him pause. Its beans and hot sauce made his taste buds wince.

That unpleasant flavor was quickly forgotten when Y/N pulled him to sit next to her on the sofa, so Patricia could open her presents. She proudly showed off the orange, clay ashtray her grandson had made for her. Arthur, having successfully kept the secret of her light smoking from Y/N, chuckled at Patricia fibbing she'd put candy in it. She thanked Matt and Laura for the champagne, wrapped in a silver bow with a simple "Happy Birthday" tag. The bottle wasn't popped. Upon peeking into the large giftbag Y/N placed on her lap, she made a soft sound. The Dazey whirlpool bath, which attached to the side of the tub and had three strength settings, was a hit. She announced her plans to try it in the morning. The dark blue Rexbuilt briefbag was intended to replace her cracked, leather briefcase, Y/N explained. Patricia ran her fingertips along the expanding inner compartments, the personalized planner that included the credential "CLA" after her name, and flipped through the included steno pads, eyes brimming.

She sipped at her cocktail and put an arm around Y/N. Melancholy tinged Patricia's voice. "At my age, the people in your life tend to stay the people in your life. Whether you like them or not." She reached further and patted Arthur's knee. "I'm glad an old dame like me gets to call you all friends." His throat clenched in gratification, though he wasn't daring enough to squeeze her hand and thank her for deciding he was a friend.

Still on top of the world an hour later, Arthur sauntered to the red and white enamel dining table to serve himself a second slice of upside-down pineapple cake. The evening had gone well, better than a guy with a natural inability to mingle could've expected. He bobbed his head to the beat of "Come Fly with Me." It was a happy coincidence that Patricia's taste in music aligned with his. She'd regaled him with tales of seeing Sinatra and Count Basie on her and Robert's honeymoon in Vegas. Arthur took a bite absentmindedly, wondering how long it would take for him to save the money to surprise Y/N with plane and concert tickets.

The daydreaming didn't last long. Matt's plodding footsteps preceded him, followed by a long sigh as he propped himself on the beige stone of the dining area's accent wall, across from the u-shaped kitchen. He held out a Budweiser and smirked. "Marriage is a hell of a lot of work."

Pleased that he was being treated like one of the guys, like a regular husband with a regular relationship who got to speak about his regular wife, Arthur accepted the beer and considered the comment. Matt's sentiment was hard to grasp. Dr. Sally had said marriage could be difficult, and Y/N's first hadn't survived the ripples of her life. But it didn't feel like work with her. Their arguments were minor. Her nagging him to find a primary doctor for annual check-ups, even though he'd survived this long without one. Or back in Missouri, when he'd told her to stop shielding him and trust he could take anything she had to give.

Arthur adopted a similar nonchalant posture and jutted his hip against the table's edge. "I like it. It's easy to take good care of her." He wasn't able to completely erase the smugness of success from his tone.

"You're what? Two years in with the most headstrong woman in Gotham? She's great and all, but she spikes my blood pressure." Matt slapped Arthur's back and let out a hearty guffaw. "Give it five more and you'll be in my office trying to avoid alimony."

"Don't. Say that." Arthur crinkled the can in his grip and glared up at him.

"Hey," Matt started, withdrawing even as he tried diplomacy. "It was just a joke. I didn't mean anything by it."

Flinching, pulling at the cuffs of his red sweater, Arthur fought the surge of anger in his veins. It wouldn't do to lose control and cause a scene. Of course Matt's comment about them splitting up was supposed to be a joke. But Arthur didn't find it one bit funny. Even with his complete faith in her and his firm belief that they were meant to be together, the possibility that she'd stop wanting him hurt. It didn't occur to him that the implication of the punchline could be that he'd get sick of Y/N.

With a muttered apology, Matt walked to the others in the kitchen. Arthur glanced over to see her laugh tipsily, until she grabbed her stomach and swatted Patricia's shoulder, a stark demonstration of how much he and Y/N differed. She always knew how to respond to people, the right comebacks. Appropriate timing and levels of interaction. It seemed she was in her natural element, the loveliest swan on a lake. Whereas after years of therapy and practice with her, he was still a fish out of water, flopping around on the shoreline in hopes some stranger would take pity on him and throw him back into the sea.

Maybe that was the real punchline. Eventually their contrasts would no longer complement each other and instead become a chore.

Scowling, he ambled towards the record player stationed before two double-hung windows. Increased the volume to drown out the intrusive notions. It didn't really work. He settled on a grounding technique he'd practiced, all the while lamenting that he couldn't handle a party without needing it. His attention went to the spinning LP, the needle following its grooves. The bright blue album cover, where Ol' Blue Eyes beckoned him, the scuff marks on the cardboard's corner edges. He acknowledged the spider plants sat on the windowsill, worried a papery leaf until it broke off. He stared out the window, taking in the whole of the city. Pinpricks of light dazzling in the darkness.

"Gotham's beautiful at night," Y/N said from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to watch her approach. Her cheeks glowed with alcohol and good cheer, the collar of her ivory blouse unbuttoned. "There's a life behind every light out there. Ten million of them. Here. Try this." She offered her hurricane glass, filled with an off-white slush.

He sipped the pina colada with cautious skepticism and grimaced as soon as it hit his tongue. The blend of pineapple and coconut tasted of cheap sunscreen and tropical imitations, the kind advertised in smudged brochures for bad cruises to islands with made up sounding names. "No, thanks."

Snorting, she shrugged and embraced his back at the waist. "How are we doing?" she asked, curling into his side. After a few seconds, she prodded him. "Had your fill of Matt?"

"He was just joking." Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.  She set the drink next to the record player and brought her hand to his, trailed it over the inside of his wrist, up his forearm. She pecked his chin and nudged him until he turned to her. As soon as their gazes met, the concern in hers told him she'd continue to pepper him with questions. But he wasn't about to let his misplaced doubts spoil her evening. And he knew the perfect way to distract them both.

A new song started. An oldie that sang of Jupiter and Mars, playfulness among the stars. He cupped her cheek, thumb sweeping the corner of her mouth. "Dance with me," he said. Before accepting his proffered palm, she laid a sloppy kiss on him. With a flutter of her eyelashes, she grinned, and his smile grew to match her own. As he held her side, led her in a slow, swaying circle, he marveled at her. At her ability to soothe every molecule, every lingering ache. Self-assurance welled in him, chased away his earlier dejection. He cradled her to his lanky frame, trembled and felt himself blush. She was the only woman for him. That was as certain as his cigarette habit.

Despite Patricia's reassurances she was fine, that Robert working late wasn't unusual, Y/N insisted on staying until he got home. Though Arthur would have preferred they take their leave an hour earlier, being allowed to smoke inside blunted his grumbling. The disarming flirtations she bestowed on him also didn't hurt. She'd pour herself a drink (four in total, if he counted correctly), help Patricia make a plate of leftovers for her husband, then throw him a wink. Whisper and cackle while cleaning, then kiss his temple.

Around midnight, Patricia put her foot down. Ushered them out with a promise to call and a hug fierce enough to crush his ribs. She raised a brow at Y/N's unsteady gait, grasped Arthur's arm, and said with a wry, tired smile, "Make sure you put that woman straight to bed." His dark brows shot up and held. Had she intended a pun? Or had Y/N's spare caresses caused the interpretation? Either way, he liked being trusted to take care of her. And the hint of arousal that flared in his belly.

By the time they stumbled into their apartment, that arousal had reduced to a dull exhaustion. She kicked off her heels on the way to the bathroom, calling a slurred "night!" as she closed the door. Yawning, he put dish soap and hot water in the crockpot, scrubbed burned bits of sauce from its rim, turned it upside down on a towel to dry. Once he'd brushed his teeth for one minute rather than the recommended two, he tossed his sweater, trousers, briefs, and socks in the hamper, and went to the bedroom. He found his blue pajamas in their usual spot, the chair in the corner, and slid them up his skinny but toned legs. Tucked in next to her, he was carried to sleep on waves of fatigue and her quiet, wet snoring.

~~~~~

A tickle threatened to rouse him. Whispers along the waistband of his bottoms. Heat snuggled his back. Delightfully drowsy, he cuddled deeper into cozy, cream-color sheets, already returning to a pleasant, dreamless slumber. But a rumble of exhaust, likely from a bus that needed a new muffler, dragged him to consciousness. Arthur grumbled and tucked his arm under his pillow, not ready to transition to a world of overcrowding and concrete, commotion and bad jokes.

Yet, Y/N's insistent grazes continued, luring him with promises of placid pleasure. Her toes wiggled at his heel until he made space for her to slip her foot between his ankles. The corner of his mouth quirked. He was reminded of last night's playfulness, her endless teasing. The way he'd held the crockpot as a shield to fend off her advances on the train home, her forwardness to the point that he would've preferred having a laminated card to present on her behalf. Forgive my wife: she has a condition. It causes frequent and uncontrollable displays of affection.

Nimble fingers edged lower, loosened the tie of his pajamas before dipping beneath the loose elastic to lace through his dark brown curls, darker than the chestnut hair on his head. Her knuckles ran over him, lazy caresses full of intent. Up and down, up and down. Delicate. Deliberate. The blood racing to his groin, the pleasant swelling, made his abdomen twitch. Soon full and heavy, the sensitive tip straining the cotton seams, he pressed his lips together. When she skimmed the tender skin resting on his inner thigh, he flexed the muscle at the base of his erection. It bobbed and hit her wrist and she let loose a girlish giggle, more intoxicating than wine.

With her left leg draped over him at the knee, she undulated against his rear. Plush lips brushed the boney knobs of his spine, damp breath fanned the nape of his neck, labored, needy. Pebbled nipples grazed his back through the thin nylon of her nightgown, taunting and compelling. He made up his mind to throw an arm around her, to yank her on top of him. To eagerly take part in her seduction.

But she withdrew from his bottoms to palm his stomach and plant a gentle kiss to the shell of his ear, whispering, "Sleep tight." The mattress shifted and she rolled away from him. He furrowed his brows. She rarely relented this easily - other times he'd awakened, hard and aching, enveloped by the captivating wetness of her mouth. What was she up to?

Covers rustled. Her calf bumped his. And the opposite of what he'd assumed occurred. Instead of light footfalls leading out of the room, there was silence, silence that seemed to stretch on and on...

Until a hitched gasp gave her away.

Touching herself. She was touching herself. She'd just been all over him, acted like he was some sort of model on the cover of Vue magazine, and now she was touching herself. Right beside him! Ecstatic to have inspired such brazenness, he grinned and fisted the pillow. Her fleeting, stifled moans tangled him in knots, implored him to give her what they both burned for.

He flipped in her direction, his hand shooting under the sheet to grab hers. "Gotcha."

Eyes wide, she gaped at him in surprise. But adoration softened her expression as she entwined their fingers. "How long have you been awake?" she asked.

"Long enough."

He stretched to rewind the shades, the diaphanous curtains staying in place. Sunlight diffused over them, wrapped around her face, lent her disheveled hair a warm luster. He twirled a feathered lock and pecked her eyelids. "Finishing what you started on the subway, hm?"

"Me?" Y/N brought his knuckles to her mouth.  "You're the one who came to bed without any underwear."

"Well, it was a late night." The pad of his thumb tugged at her bottom lip to reveal the pink tip of her tongue. He bent to claim it. "I was lucky to find my pajamas."

Chuckling, she broke their connection. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah. The cake was good. And the music. Everyone was nice."

"Patricia loved having you there. She thought you were very sweet." A pause as she mapped a dimple. "Matt said he'd upset you. Something stupid about breaking up?"

Vague shadows of discomfort flashed through Arthur, a frustration he'd mostly moved on from. He did his best to ignore it, waving her concern away. "Don't worry about it."

"He was just jealous, you know." Her nails ran along the small of his back. "He wants Laura to look at him the way I look at you."

Arthur had spent so much of his life yearning for change, to understand his purpose in the world and improve himself. The idea that a man with a good education, a successful career, and no disabilities could ever be jealous of him was, frankly, bizarre. But he didn't correct Y/N, instead locking her praise within his heart, preserving it for when he needed it most. He boosted himself on his forearm and fiddled with her V-neck, traced its button loops as he slipped the plastic knobs through them. "And how's that?'

A hint of scandal glimmered in her irises. She arched into him as he eased a strap down her upper arm to reveal her shapely breast, the lilac fabric momentarily catching on its taut peak. "Like I can't get enough of you."

He huffed at that, fondled her faintly before his lips met the velvety skin of her chest. A tonic comprised of the musk oil she'd dabbed on before the party and distinct sexual wanting wafted to his nostrils. He licked at her nipple, the bumps on her areola, and drew it between his teeth. She whined softly and lifted the bottom of her nightdress to her waist.

Hurriedly, he yanked on the waistband of her cotton panties, pushed them past her knees. She kicked them off while he knelt to lower his bottoms. Straddling her, he pumped himself back to hardness and opened the drawer of her nightstand. He searched haphazardly until he retrieved a small, glass bottle of lubricant. (She'd ordered it from a mail catalog, both of them a bit too bashful to walk into an adult shop, even together.)

She snagged it from him and poured half a teaspoon in her hand, then palmed herself. He moved between her legs and she grasped his length, coating him with the warm, slippery liquid. He pushed forward into her. Gradually, slowly, savoring every millimeter of her enticing heat. He noted the stretch of her mouth, the jut of her jaw, the lifting of her upper lip. "Mmm..." she breathed and begged him to keep going. When he did, her head tilted back into the pillow, eyelids falling shut. A smile cut across her cheeks as she purred her satisfaction. "Arthur, I love you."

His touch wandered down the curve of her thigh. At the sight of her subtle writhing beneath him, the sway of her slightly uneven breasts in time with his languid thrusts, he pushed her knee into the mattress, splayed her wider. He grunted lowly. "Look at me."

Their gazes met but didn't hold for long; hers dropped to where they were joined. She caressed right above his pubic bone. "I love seeing you like this." Her fingertips walked a line up his sternum to his chest. "And touching you like this." She wrapped her arms around his middle and drew him to her, locked their lips in a greedy kiss. "And making love like this."

He snorted. "I think this is the only reason you married me."

"Well, not the only reason. There's your good hair, too."

"I've been thinking about cutting it. Trying something new."

"Don't you dare." She tugged at his loose curls, wore her best pout. "What else would I hold onto when we're doing this?"

Laughing lightly, he bumped his nose to hers. Falling into her was like falling into his old fantasies, the ones that'd sustained him through years of isolation. Dates at diners, at comedy clubs, at donut shops, at home. Their shapes had changed as he'd matured, his role in them, his aspirations and infatuations. But they'd remained a warm comfort nonetheless, a place that felt like belonging. And now he belonged with her. Hunger filled him. Happiness. And love. So much love, more than he'd ever believed he'd carried in him. He bucked a little harder. "You feel so good," he murmured. "You make me feel so good."

A strained cry left her and her pelvis answered his steady rhythm with demands of its own. Her calves rose to squeeze him closer, encircle his narrow hips. They were pressed together so tightly; it felt like they were one flesh. He never wanted it to stop. But a dizzying euphoria had ignited, one that eclipsed the romantic yearnings of his heart, twisting his desire to last all morning into the desperate drive to possess her. Gasping, Arthur raised himself to his knees, delving deeper with each push. Their foreheads met and he grit his teeth at the scald of her, the texture of her walls. She fit as though she'd been made for him.

He supposed she was.

Pressure began in the base of him, building and building in terrific torment. The muscles of his inner thighs contracted inward. Tingling climbed his shaft, his tailbone, his spine. He wove his fingers into the sheet, his grip a vise that wrested its corner from the mattress. She kissed the spot where his jaw met his neck, all the while murmuring encouragements for him to let himself go.

Bliss shot through him, from the tips of his toes to the follicles on his scalp, and his back stiffened as he whimpered and poured into. Fever engulfed his frame, sublime in its frenzy, leaving him in a heady stupor. Aftershocks made him tremble. Once, twice. Until, sated and spent, he landed on top her. He closed his eyes, ribs rising and falling as he forced air into his lungs.

A minute later, he swallowed and looked down at her. "You didn't come."

She carded through his sweaty locks. "It's all righ-"

"Shh." He slid out of her and settled at her side, reached between her legs to swipe at her core. "I'm not done," he declared, tracing the edges of her entrance, slick and swollen. One of his favorite things about getting her off was demonstrating his prowess in bed, how well he'd learned with her. His thumb met her plump clitoral hood, and he felt her throb beneath his ministrations.

Nails biting his bicep, she rocked upwards. A bewitching blush crept up her breast, her neck, spread across her cheeks. Shallow pants hit his face, short puffs suffused with high-pitched whines, utterly irresistible. He circled her nub at a steady cadence, tapping when she'd shiver, and she clasped the back of his hand. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, sucked the pretty peak, and lowered the other strap of her nightgown to bare her completely. A hushed plea fell from her lips. "Please, please..."

Suddenly, her vulva grew white hot and she seized, her hips stuttering with each flutter of his touch to her folds. She thrusts her breasts towards him, a sharp moan caught in her throat. Liquid pooled against his fingers, proof of her rapture that made him wish, with mild amusement, that he could be an unmedicated young man again. He would've gladly taken her a second time.

Giggling and rubbing her temple, she released a long exhale and opened her eyes. He brushed her hair back and grinned, completely smitten, like the first time he'd heard a joke and understood the punchline. The light brown picture frame on his nightstand caught his attention, and he regarded the wallet size photo in it, one of the shots of Y/N from the booth at Amusement Mile. The last thing he looked at before turning in each night. He lay his head her shoulder and hummed, listened to the drum of her heart.

She smooched his hairline and wriggled out from beneath him to stand. Her nightie had been reduced to a crumpled stripe of lilac cinched about her waist. It felt tawdry and shameless and he wanted to see her in it for the rest of the weekend. But she peeled it down her legs, wrinkling her nose when it got stuck on her thighs, and stepped out of it one foot at a time. She dropped it on the floral bedspread and retrieved her bathrobe from the closet. "Meet you in the kitchen," she said, opening the door.

The sun had risen higher, its beams slanting across the covers. He basked in it, catlike, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He pulled on his pajamas, got a new pair of socks from their dresser, and made his way to the kitchen. He washed off the remnants of Y/N's arousal from his fingers, popped open a prescription bottle and took a tablet. He poured water into the coffeemaker, grabbed the can of grounds from the second shelf, added three scoops to the paper filter. Their three-tone brown mugs sat in their spot next to the machine, waiting to be filled.

When the glass coffeepot was half full, Y/N emerged from the bathroom, chuckling to herself. She opened the breadbox on the opposite counter and took out a wax paper bag. "Do you have any idea how dull this morning would have been if we'd never met? I'd have read the Sunday paper, had a drink. Probably worked on a file." He handed her a couple dessert plates, watched her put a donut on each one. "I wonder where you'd be. What woman you'd have breakfast with, what jokes you'd be writing, what magic tricks you'd have learned."

"Um..." At first he wanted to ask where this speculation had come from, if Matt had let her in on exactly what he'd said. But the confident slant of her smirk told Arthur she was teasing. He tried to play along but winced. No matter how appealing, how extraordinary she found him, his gut told him there wouldn't have been another woman. There'd be no more stand-up routines, no more Carnival. He certainly wouldn't be taking care of Penny. He'd likely be locked up in the hospital, maybe even dead. Without an anchor, his life would have lost what little sense it had.

Y/N was one of his anchors now, hooked into the sand alongside his material, treatment, the ability to pay bills. He seized her hand and squeezed it tight, unaware he was squishing her fingers. "I don't wanna think about it," he said quietly.

She sidled up to him and pulled him to her side. Rubbed his flank soothingly and pecked the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry." She took his chin and guided him to look at her. The intimate comfort of her smile helped him believe her next words, even before she spoke them. "I'll always be here."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @fakestreet​ @ralugraphics​​ @iartsometimes​

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck smut #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x ofc #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

[ceescedasticity]

Crossover Classpect #idek+1

Riordanverse.

Okay, I have a roster for a nice reasonable session taking off taking off sometime in the first couple Trials of Apollo books, the Triumvirate pushes a button they shouldn't have, with a roster featuring Seven+Nico, Reyna, Thalia, Will, and Meg. But if I do write this, I will not be writing the reasonable version. I will be writing the unreasonable version, including MC and KC.

In fact I already have a prophecy for the unreasonable version:

Timers count, machines appear / Fate new-spun is already here / Stone stars will fall from alien skies / Twelve and twelve and twelve must rise

Twelve children of the wandering gods / Twelve touch two worlds despite the odds / Twelve their mortal life have ceded / Three games to win or all's defeated

For hope to return from the quest / Solve each puzzle, pass each test / For hope that home will still be there / Smash the veils the earth to spare

But what comes of it after game's end / Will on the choices of the gods depend

That's right, three twelve-person sessions, because... reasons. --Because I kept wanting not to leave out various people and then had to keep things balanced, actually.

Whose fault is it? Interesting question. But somebody or somebodies did it on purpose. It was distributed as a fun and innocuous game on purpose. Utgard-Loki was almost certainly involved. Prometheus was almost certainly involved. But it wasn't just them.

I have quite a few notes on entry sequence, and people who were planning to play together but the game wouldn't allow them to connect because they're in different sessions, and people who were not planning to play together but ended up connected, and people who were supposed to be unavailable but weren't.

First, Session Delta, the 'children of the wandering gods' -- living mortal demigods. (Samirah just retired from the Valkyries.)

Leo Valdez: Bard of Doom, Prospit, Land of Gimbals and Drums, Denizen Viné

Samirah al-Abbas: Sylph of Heart, Derse, Land of Truth and Feathers, Denizen Astaphanos

Alabaster Torrington: Prince of Hope, Derse, Land of Vanity and Bogs, Denizen Abraxas

Annabeth Chase: Seer of Space, Prospit, Land of Skeins and Frogs, Denizen Tiamat

Percy Jackson: Knight of Breath, Prospit, Land of Smoke and Sulfur, Denizen Yaldabaoth

Hazel Levesque: Rogue of Light, Prospit, Land of Ravines and Mirrors, Denizen Adonaios

Nico di Angelo: Mage of Void, Derse, Land of Amber and Gloom, Denizen Shax

Will Solace: Heir of Life, Derse, Land of Veldt and Verse, Denizen Iachtanabas

Piper McLean: Maid of Mind, Prospit, Land of Stone and Mirrors , Denizen Ariouth

Meg McCaffrey: Witch of Rage, Derse, Land of Vines and Angles, Denizen Sabaoth

Frank Zhang: Page of Blood, Prospit, Land of Fountains and Tactics, Denizen Iao

Hylla Ramirez-Arellano: Thief of Time, Derse, Land of Wheels and Sky, Denizen Nammu

Session Lambda, people who started out completely human or completely not human but are still mixed up with both worlds now.

Sadie Kane: Witch of Time, Derse, Land of Chords and Spindles, Denizen Amdusias

Blitzen: Prince of Void, Prospit, Land of Whirlpools and Waves, Denizen Shax

Hearthstone: Mage of Light, Prospit, Land of Chimes and Omens, Denizen Adonaios

Amir Fadlan: Rogue of Hope, Prospit, Land of Cliffs and Alpenhorns, Denizen Abraxas

Rachel Elizabeth Dare: Maid of Heart, Derse, Land of Astrology and Riddles, Denizen Astaphanos

Carter Kane: Heir of Blood, Derse, Land of Glyphs and Truth, Denizen Paraplex

Grover Underwood: Bard of Space, Prospit, Land of Twilight and Roots, Denizen Tiamat

Calypso: Seer of Rage, Prospit, Land of Veins and Manganese, Denizen Sabaoth

Zia Rashid: Knight of Mind, Derse, Land of Cisterns and Runoff, Denizen Asag

Shel: Sylph of Breath, Derse, Land of Fog and Dogwood, Denizen Pazuzu

Bast: Thief of Life, Derse, Land of Hemp and Artifice, Denizen Yaldabaoth

Tyson: Page of Doom, Prospit, Land of Drains and Ritual, Denizen Viné

Session Nu, people who one way or another aren't mortal anymore:

Alex Fierro: Rogue of Breath, Prospit, Land of Spruce and Lime, Denizen Pazuzu

Magnus Chase: Heir of Hope, Prospit, Land of Fjords and Bogs, Denizen Abraxas

Thomas Jefferson Jr.: Witch of Space, Prospit, Land of Hills and Frogs, Denizen Tiamat

Halfborn Gunderson: Bard of Life, Prospit, Land of Blood and Skulls, Denizen Zariz

Thalia Grace: Maid of Rage, Derse, Land of Miasma and Stress, Denizen Sabaoth

Bianca di Angelo: Sylph of Doom, Prospit, Land of Glass and Chasms, Denizen Viné

Zoë Nightshade: Seer of Light, Derse, Land of Gold and Scandium, Denizen Horaios

Reyna Ramirez-Arellano: Mage of Mind, Derse, Land of Quests and Sleet, Denizen Ariouth

Mallory Keen: Page of Void, Propsit, Land of Cenotes and Echoes, Denizen Shax

Jason Grace: Knight of Heart, Derse, Land of Blades and Stepwells, Denizen Iao

Walt Stone: Prince of Time, Derse, Land of Sun and Cinnabar, Denizen Amdusias

Luke Castellan: Thief of Blood, Derse, Land of Foxglove and Atria, Denizen Yaldabaoth

And I have some things which would be chapter titles, if this mess were the epic it clearly wants to be:

δ: We Are Lulled Into a False Sense of Security

λ: The Heir of Blood is Unnecessarily Alarmed

ν: Our Plans Fall Through

δ: The Seer of Space Multitasks

λ: The Heir of Blood is Very Reasonably Alarmed

ν: The Heir of Hope is Worst At Computer Games

δ: The Oracle Issues a Quest to the Maid of Heart

δ: We Lose Our Security Deposit

δ: We Just Call It Cousins

λ: We Are Not Offered Bows Or Axes

ν: It Was Made For Those Who Are Dead, Plus Those Two. Three. Two and a Half?

δ: Correction: The Rogue of Light is Worst At Computer Games

λ: Update: The Thief of Life is Worst At Computer Games

δ: The Maid of Mind Returns From the DMV

ν: The Prince of Time Makes a Call

ν: Breaking News: The Thief of Blood is Worst At Computer Games

and many more. Whew. Didn't even include the entry notes. Maybe later.

#crossover classpect #crossover classpects #things i'm not writing

[dragonrajafanfiction]

The Trieste Venture (End) - S Nami Bolg

In this entry, the MC sings a song that is commonly heard in Russia around Christmas time though it’s not necessarily a Christmas Song.

"We actually survived." Lu Mingfei gasped. "I thought several times that I should start chanting poems."

Chu Zihang was next to you, checking your blood pressure. You were still far too weak to participate in the conversation. Or even get annoyed at Mingfei again. All your strength reserves were completely exhausted. Caesar was strapped into his seat but still out cold.

So he prattled on. "I used to read a book and said that Japanese generals would recite a death poem when they died." He rolled his eyes up to the sky. "What is "Heaven" There must be light at the end, and the clouds and mists are scattered. There is only a bright moon in the heart. Forty-nine years of prosperity, a dream, a wine cup in the first phase of glory, and what else is there? When I wake up, I will go to sleep", he recited. "I thought that was particularly sensational."

　　"It wasn't that they started chanting just before they died," Chu Zihang said. "In fact, most Japanese military commanders have a mediocre level of education. They used to find someone who could write poetry to do it well, and they just chanted before they died. "

　　"That’s what I said. What if I only say 'Heroes forgive me, there are no poems left?’"

Chu Zihang let the air out of the blood pressure cuff and held up his blade. "I need to check your blood. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." You turn away but can help but flinch when the blade scores your skin.

What comes out is a mixture of crimson and inky black ooze. It seemed to be a fifty fifty ratio. 

"Is it bad?"

"It's not good. If you use Blood Rage again there's no saving you. I'll have to kill you."

"Thanks."

Chu Zihang suddenly stared at you, unsure of what you're thanking him for. If he asked, you're not sure you could answer.

"I feel dizzy."

"We're low on oxygen… but also Something else survived," Chu Zihang said.

You looked at the screen, thousands of black shadows were floating up from the bottom of the sea at high speed, gathering together like black vortexes. The group of mermaid hybrids, the last group who escaped from Takamagahara, was exceptionally large; they were not affected by the nuclear explosion. A huge figure appeared in the black whirlpool formed by the mermaid group. Every time it swept the sea with its long tail, it was accompanied by countless undercurrents and countless whirlpools. The mermaids floated around it, because when the thing was swimming, an upward high-speed current was formed around it, just like fish schools like to migrate with giant whales sometimes. The fastest were already approaching the Trieste, and under the spotlight, their ice crystal-like tusks reflected dazzling light.

"Do you still want to chant poems now?" Chu Zihang asked.

"Like a hero!" Lu Mingfei sobbed.

The depth is about 3,000 meters, and when the inertia brought by the nuclear explosion shock wave is exhausted, they will have no way to accelerate.

Chu Zihang might be able to release Royal Fire again, but the submersible could not withstand the impact. The outer shell was making a frightening tearing sound, and the resin porthole was deforming at a speed visible to the naked eye. Royal Fire and the nuclear explosion shock wave caused irreversible damage to the shell of the deep submersible, so it would be nice if they could float to the surface in this way. The remaining hope is the safety rope. You're just waiting for Chisei's safety rope to pull.

"I seem to hear the sound of cracking eggs." Lu Mingfei whispered.

"This is our shell cracking." Chu Zihang said.

It did sound like the sound of an eggshell breaking, and the cracks slowly extended on the surface. The sound of metal tearing and curling was sickening, and it was followed by a "pop", and then the sound of fluid surging.

"It is leaking, but the water has not intruded into the cockpit." Chu Zihang said, "Trieste has a double metal shell, with light kerosene between the two layers. Now the shell is perforated and the kerosene is leaking."

"Hey Sumeru! Sumeru! Hurry! We need the support of a safety cable!" Chu Zihang yelled.

"They're not answering." You whisper. You're feeling sleepy. At any moment, your eyes will close and you won't open them again. Exhausted from the fight, Blood Rage and the serum, the lack of oxygen won't allow you to regain strength.

The Trieste stopped ascending, and now it was surrounded by a group of mermaids.

The behemoth floated in the observation window. It was a black dragon swinging its long tail in the sea. That was the thing that was struggling in the crack in the seabed just now. At the last moment it finally broke through the seabed and escaped. Its golden pupils are like giant candles, and its decayed body is draped with ancient armor. The armor is connected by layers of bronze chains. Between the bare ribs, swimming in the abdominal cavity, were a swarm of ghost tooth dragon vipers! It turns out that the body of this thing is the nest of the ghost tooth dragon viper. As if thousands of lights were lit at the same moment, the eyes of the sleeping fish all awoke. Endless numbers press to chew their way into the cockpit. The king of these mutants opens its mouth in a silent roar, and his teeth are as transparent as crystal.

To your oxygen starved brain, the lights of their eyes and the silvery flashing of scales and teeth become mixed with the dreamy memory of Christmas lights and falling snow.  You suddenly feel warm inside and smile. It was irritating, but Racoon Boy is right. You really want to sing right now.

S Nami Bolg, ‘God is With Us’ was that old Christmas song, a triumphant challenge to opponents. The lyrics said that if they so much as dared come against them, they would be met with a resounding defeat. But it was easy for children to learn, because all they needed to know were the words “God is With Us” to sing along after every verse.

In your mind, as you sing the lyrics in the mix of a voice and a hoarse whisper, you can hear the voices of your friends, older and younger, singing with you as you stare into the eyes of the decayed dragon without a trace of fear. You can almost feel Renata standing beside you. She always had a sweet voice and you worked to match the way hers sounded in your mind. You imagine her glancing at you with her coquettish, mischievous manner. Your attempts to match hers weren’t a challenge but what was friendship without at least a little rivalry?

So your voice grows stronger with hers trembling in the soprano range.

“God is with us! Understand this, O nations, and submit yourselves! Hear this, even to the farthest bounds of the earth. For God is With us… God is with us…”

Chu Zihang sat back in his seat with a soft sigh. By the third lyric, he could mouth the words, God is with us, in Russian.

The dragon slowly opened its ribs as to though answer this challenge, and the ghost tooth dragon vipers leaped out of their nest. They pounced on the Trieste. It was like the sound of millions of silkworms chewing on mulberry leaves, violently biting. Outside, the portholes are densely packed with the golden eyes of the fish and the teeth marks on the plexiglass are growing deeper. There were terrible sounds in all directions. The fish were not only biting the plexiglass, but also drilling holes in the metal bulkhead. Thousands of them are now swimming between the outer shell and the inner shell. These fish that can chew through anything, are eating the fiber optic cables and the insulation as though it were food.

The lights on the control consoles went out. The water pressure meter and the ampere meter swung to zero.

The last layer to protect them was the metal inner shell.

Chu Zihang reached out his hand to you and it closed around your fingers. “It was nice meeting you.” He said.

“Same.” You replied.

You turn to Lu Mingfei who took your other hand. “I’m also… very happy.” His voice was choked. “I’m sure… the Boss would say something heroic but… I’m sure he’s happy he met you too.”

You let out a breath. “It’s weird… I’m saying good-bye ag-...”

You never finish that sentence. The porthole collapsed and the sea filled the cockpit like a sledgehammer, breaking the supports holding your seat to the deck and then tearing you out of the seatbelts themselves. You’re violently sucked out of the cockpit and into the swirling ocean with nothing to protect you from the frigid water or the debris. Things are striking you and you’re filled with fear, but your eyes are squeezed tightly shut.

You feel a sudden burst of heat and the debris striking you is blown away. Royal Fire? You open your eyes but you can’t see anything but blue ocean and a bit of shining light. Your mind, finally starved completely, mercifully shuts down before you can even start to drown.

#Dragon Raja

[evolutionsvoid]

If one has read through my previous entries on Slimes, you should know by now that they are an incredibly adaptable and versatile species. Though they are just a heart and a pseudobody, their special signals and incredible slime allow them to create a variety of shapes and forms. From sticky Flayers who cover themselves in adhesive goo and bone shards, to volatile Fire Slimes that secrete flammable liquids and use gathered flint to light it all aflame! It is no surprise that this species has thrived and spread for so long! However, at times this versatility can lead to some issues. Like any other beast, Slimes are susceptible to parasites, disease and the ravages of time. Horrible things that can mess with their minds and hijack their signals. When a Slime is struck by one of these terrible fates, you either wish for a speedy recovery or a merciful death. Cruel as it sounds, things can become a real problem when these illnesses choose to linger. Be it parasite or virus, one can take over the form of a Slime and turn them into something even worse. I have written about Slime Dragons before, and how those abominations come to be. To quickly recap, Slime colonies tend to have buried networks of elder hearts that aid in reproduction and knowledge transfer. Slimes can physically connect to these networks to share nutrients, information or transfer their young. In most cases, these networks get along just fine, but age can start to wear on the oldest of hearts. As the decades pass by, an elder heart may start to degrade and fail. Most cases end with these dying organs being put of their misery and absorbed, but there are rare instances where the network is too late in realizing this weakness. In extreme cases, a fading heart may start to produce a "rotted signal," a droning message that is simple and infectious. Slimes use signals generated by their hearts to control their goo and communicate with others. They can share signals with one another without a problem, but rotted signals are not so kind. Due to their nature, these signals are capable of overwriting the signals of other Slimes and causing their hearts to pump out the same infectious message. All Slimes who come in contact with an infected heart or pseudobody will be hijacked and added to the collective. Slime Dragons are beasts that can result from a rotted signal taking over, but they are only one outcome for this dire situation. You see, a rotted signal is not just gibberish or useless noise, it often is a normal message that a Slime would use that has become corrupted. For Slime Dragons, the signal that births them is the same signal Slimes use when they are hungry or look to feed. It is a blaring message to consume that takes them over and creates this gluttonous monstrosity. So that means a different signal can lead to a different outcome, which is where the Slime's versatility takes a cruel turn. For each type of rotted signal, their is a corresponding abomination that is born from it, and each is specially equipped to bring a whole lot of misery and destruction. The diseased amalgamation I wish to write about today is known as the Mind Sink. While it is a network that has succumbed to an infection like a Slime Dragon, it is quite different from those slithering, hungering brutes. Their congealed and hardening slime will form skittering legs, and a bizarre frame. While its outside has grown dark and thickened by the corrupted fusion of so many Slimes, within this brittle cage will form a gooey writhing core. Here is where the infested hearts lie, and from there comes a multitude of flailing tendrils and snaring tentacles. I imagine it is a freaky sight to behold, and one I have thankfully never witnessed! The Mind Sink is one of these abominations I am most disturbed by, as it hungers for something more than flesh! The signal that becomes corrupted is the one Slimes will use to transfer knowledge to one another. It is a message that kind of says "can I copy your notes?" which the other Slime will agree to and they will share their information. When it grows foul, though, this message does not ask for permission. Rather, it becomes more of theft than a collaboration, as the infested Slimes mindlessly drain the information out of the victim. Slimes that are caught by these serpentine limbs will immediately be linked to the corrupted network and they will begin to draw out all their knowledge. In moments, the Slime will be emptied of all their information and thoughts, and will instead start to pump out the rotted signal. They will be pulled into the core and will join their infested brethren, ready to seek out the next victim. I know some may think that it is a rough process for the Slimes, and to that I must make a correction. It is a rough process for everyone, because the Mind Sink does not just prey on its own. 

It has been thought that the signals from a Slime's heart shares some similarities with the signals our brains create. While that is a whole field of study and wondering I am not well versed in, I can say that Mind Sink has given us a bit of confirmation on that. Mind Sinks not only hunger for the knowledge of their fellow Slimes, but they will target other creatures as well. Doesn't matter if it is man, beast or thinking plant, if it has a brain or a similar organ, it wants inside. Non-Slimes who are seized by a Mind Sink's arms will be entangled and immobilized in its grip. Coils of slime will pin their limbs in a cocoon, and slithering tendrils will seek out the source of the victim's thoughts. They somehow have a way of pinpointing the location of the brain and, once they do, they find the quickest way to access it. The point of entry is usually a facial orifice, be it nose, mouth, ears or eyes. They will burrow to the brain and the corrupted goop will make physical contact. From there, it will hijack the signals and quickly learn how to manipulate the organ, giving it access to their memories, knowledge and life experiences. With the mental feast now ready, the Mind Sink will say "I will have everything!" and start to drain. So far it has not been found if there is any order to what it consumes first, or if there is any logic behind it. Like a whirlpool, it just sucks in whatever it can. The mind will be siphoned away by this hungering mass, and the victim is quite powerless to do anything about it. When your brain is taken over by a gooey monstrosity, you aren't exactly in the right state of mind to fight back. Due to the difference between Slimes and species like us, the brain draining process takes much longer. Think of it like trying to transcribe an entire book in a language you don't understand. Yeah, you can do it by just copying the symbols, but it will take you longer. It appears that it takes a few minutes for a fleshy or plant-based victim to be fully emptied, and then they will simply be tossed aside. Those that fall to this awful fate will not have much of a mind left. Memories will be gone, any knowledge or skills they had will be wiped out and their own thoughts will be a scrambled mess due to the brutal takeover their brain experienced. Most become comatose, while some may flop around like a fish and babble nonsense. It is a truly horrible thing, and a cure or remedy has yet to be found.   Due to how much longer it takes to fully feed off a victim, one can be saved from the grasp of a Mind Sink before they are truly lost. If one can sever the tendril that holds the prisoner and cut them off from the network, the slime will collapse in a useless heap. The connection with their brain will end and so will the drain. It should be noted that freeing a victim from a hungering tendril is just the first step, because the Mind Sink has a dozen more and it will be eager to reclaim its prize. Best to grab them the second they are let go and run as fast as you can! Severing this link before the mind can be fully consumed is certainly a good thing, but damages will still occur. It depends on how long they were being fed on, as that decides how much was removed from the brain. Those that were held for only a few moments won't notice too much of a difference after they have rested and recovered, but some things will certainly be lost. Probably a handful of distant memories and mental tidbits were taken, but they won't notice their absence right away. Those fed upon for longer will have patchy memory loss, temporary issues with physical functions and scattered thoughts. It will be like someone took the book of their life and ripped out random pages. Thankfully, the book will mostly remain, so that means recovery is possible. Physical therapy will be required for any functions that were damaged by the hijacking, and the mind will need some help too. Not only will they need to relearn lost skills and forgotten memories, but their mind will need to recoup as well. Meditation, therapy and other calming activities are needed to help them stabilize their thoughts and reorganize their scattered mental archives. Recovery is not the fastest thing, but time and patience will help heal the wounds and fill the gaps torn in their heads. No doubt now that it has become obvious that Mind Sinks are incredibly dangerous and need to be exterminated whenever they rise. These are diseased amalgamations that will cause untold damage and tragedy as long as they are alive, and there does not seem to be any peaceful way to resolve their rampage. Like Slime Dragons, the way to bring down these monstrosities is to target the original heart that is creating the rotted signal. That is where the signal is originating from, and the other hearts are merely mimicking it. Kill the source and the others will soon fall silent, causing the fusion to fall apart. When it perishes, all the other Slimes are set free, but they won't be the same as they were before they were assimilated. All the knowledge they had was taken by the Mind Sink, and where all that information goes is quite random. As far as we know, all that it absorbs is held in a condensed mess of noise and thoughts that is shared by all the consumed hearts. Its mind eating abilities may make it seem like it can take memories and knowledge then use them against their foes, but that isn't the case. They do not weaponize what they take, they don't even seem to pay the stolen information any mind. Their own mind is like a garbage can, and anything they get their tendrils on is just chucked inside without a second thought. They don't want to use it or interpret it, they just want it. So with all this knowledge shoved into one mangled ball of mental energy, there is no telling what belongs to who or who belongs to what! When the Mind Sink is terminated, all that knowledge is fractured and dumped randomly into the freed hearts. The Slimes who emerge from the collapsed amalgamation will have a stew of memories and thoughts that are not their own. Some will be completely different from before, while some will be fumbling with the fractured mess they have been given. Not only will they be mixed up with their own selves, but there can also be a whole bunch of information that was stolen from non-Slimes that is now stuck in them! Some may be in bits and pieces, while some Slimes can have whole chunks of a person's life inside them! There is a tale that has gone around about a monster slayer going out to kill a rampaging Mind Sink. He failed to defeat the beast and was consumed by it, but eventually someone brought it down. What was brought back to his family was an empty shell, and they cared for him in this comatose state. The family prayed that one day he would get better, that somehow his mind and faculties would return. One morning, his wife heard someone walking around the house and his voice started to call for her. Believing that a miracle had been granted, she rushed to him only to find him still in his bed and still in a coma. What walked in to greet her in her husband's voice was a Slime, who had somehow wound up with a big chunk of his memories and personality. I personally don't think this story is true, because the ending to this tale has several different versions. Some say she took the Slime as a replacement for her husband, while others say she killed it in horror on the spot. I have heard some say that the Slime returned all the memories to the comatose husband and he was cured, but that one is certainly fake. It would be nice if that could happen, but Slimes are incapable of putting things into our heads like that. Our minds are like colorful sandpaintings, and the Mind Sink just reached in and yanked out handfuls of it. Can you just take those fistfuls and put them back so easily? I say that about returning memories and how that is impossible, but then I remember that there is an exception to that: the Slimes themselves. While they can come out all scrambled, it is possible for the Slimes to rearrange themselves back into facsimiles of their old selves. Slimes can already transfer stuff to one another, so they could puzzle out what parts belong to who and then sort them out. I have no clue how you can tell if a memory is yours or not, but then again, I don't have the ability to copy and share my brain (I wish I did, though! It would make teaching so much easier)! So Slimes can return what was lost between them, but they will still wind up with pieces of non-Slime information. What they do with this is unknown and up to who wields it, but some believe that Slimes have gained portions of their knowledge by recovering stolen thoughts from a Mind Sink. Supposedly an ancient Mind Sink fed upon human settlements and was finally slain, and the Slimes that emerged claimed all the knowledge and skills of its victims. Could it have happened? Maybe. Do I believe it? No, because I do not like the light it paints Slimes in. The theory is essentially saying they stole all their knowledge and wisdom from others, and proposes that they couldn't have come across this any other way. Seems more like it is derogatory towards Slimes than it is trying to learn more about them. Doesn't help that the people I have met who believe this theory have all kind of been jerks towards Slimes. After all this talk about Mind Sinks and their horrific abilities, I bet some think that I can offer tips on how to kill one. In truth, I got nothing. Take out the original rotted heart and the rest falls apart. How do you do that? Not really my department there. I am a researcher not a warrior, and I personally don't want to be anywhere near one of these things. As someone who has spent years learning and seeking knowledge, the concept of a brain-sucking monster is absolutely terrifying to me. All my experiences, all my work drained away in minutes, reducing me to a mindless vegetable! No thank you! I like my thoughts right where they are, and I got enough of a scatter brain already! The only way I want to share my knowledge is through my writings and teachings! Read my life's work, don't yank it out of my skull! Speaking of that, I better watch my tongue. Enough talk about a mind-wiping monster and Eucella might hire one and sic it on me. It would be way easier to chop up my writings and sell a book if I was brainless idiot! Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian - You know I read these, right? This is not helping your case in the slightest. And also you might want to drop the "if" and change the "was" on the brainless idiot part.     - Eucella - ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Slimes, Slimes, I love Slimes!      

#slime #slimes #goop #goo #monster #creature #brain #art #drawing

[dustedmagazine]

Dust, Volume 7, Number 8

Big Thief

Our August collection of short reviews contains more big names than usual with singles from Big Thief and Dry Cleaning, a digital compilation from Thou, live music from Obits and a side project from members of the Bats and the Clean. Never fear, there are obscurities as well, including an improv guitar player even Bill Meyer had hardly heard of, a Norwegian emo artist in love with Texas and a death metal outfit verging into psychedelia. Our writers, this time including Tim Clarke, Bill Meyer, Jennifer Kelly, Ian Mathers, Chris Liberato and Jonathan Shaw, like what they like, big or small, hyped or unknown. We hope you’ll like some of it, too.   

Marc Barreca — The Sleeper Awakes (Scissor Tail)

The Sleeper Wakes by Marc Barreca

Odd connections abound here. One might not expect the usually acoustic-oriented Scissor Tail Recordings to make a vinyl reissue of an electronic ambient music cassette from 1986, any more than one would expect its maker to currently earn his crust as a bankruptcy judge. So, let’s just shed those expectations and get to listening. Unlike so many lower profile electronic recordings from the 1980s, which seemed targeted for a space next to the cash register of a new age bookstore, this album offers a profusion of mysteries that compound the closer you listen to them. It’s not at all obvious what sounds Barreca fed into his Akai sampler. Japanese folk music? Church chimes? A log drum jam? Tugboat engines? One hears hints of such sounds, but they’ve been warped and dredged in a thin coat of murk, so that the predominant experience is one of feeling like you’re dreaming, even if your eyes are wide open.

Bill Meyer

Big Thief — “Little Things” / “Sparrow” (4AD)

Little Things/Sparrow by Big Thief

Who knows how much more music Big Thief might have released in the last 18 months if the pandemic hadn’t tripped them up? Given the creative momentum generated by 2019’s UFOF and Two Hands, it’s fair to assume the band have plenty of music waiting in the wings. “Little Things” and “Sparrow” arrive with no sign of a new album on the horizon, so are probably being released to promote Big Thief’s upcoming US and European tour. Both songs clock in at around five minutes and handle musical repetition in different satisfying ways. Reminiscent of Fleetwood Mac’s “Everything,” but hyped up on caffeine, “Little Things” feels like an exciting new direction for the band. It cycles through its whirlpooling, modulated acoustic guitar over and over, the frantic little sequence of chords never changing; the interest comes from the ways in which the rest of the instruments bob and weave in the ever-shifting, psychedelic mix. “Sparrow” is a more traditional Big Thief song, sparse and sad. Its melancholic sway is enlivened by some beautiful wavering vocal harmonies as Adrianne Lenker paints a picture of a Garden of Eden populated by sparrows, owls and eagles, culminating in Adam blaming Eve for humankind’s fall from grace.

Tim Clarke

Simão Costa — Beat Without Byte: (Un)Learning Machine (Cipsela)

Beat With Out Byte by Simão Costa

Piano preparation often makes use of modest resources — bolts and combs, strings or maybe just a raincoat tossed into the instrument’s innards. By contrast, Simão Costa’s set-up looks like took all of the entries in a robotics assembly competition and set them to work agitating a snarl of cables that met the pirated telecommunication requirements for an especially crowded favela. But whether it’s twitching motors or Costa’s own hands doing the work, the sounds that come out of his sound remarkably rich and cohesive. He stirs drifting hums, metallic sonorities, and stomping rhythms into a bracingly immediate sonic onslaught.

Bill Meyer

Cots — Disturbing Body (Boiled)

Disturbing Body by Cots

Disturbing Body is the low-key debut album by Montreal-based musician Steph Yates, who enlisted Sandro Perri to produce. Where the songs are pared back to mostly just vocals and peppy major-seventh chords on nylon-string guitar — such as “Bitter Part of the Fruit” and “Midnight at the Station” — comparisons with bossa-nova classics such as “The Girl From Ipanema” inevitably arise. Where the tempo is slower, the chord voicings are less sun-dappled, and Perri’s arrangements call upon a wider palette of instrumental colors, the songs venture into more interesting terrain, calling to mind a less haunted Broadcast. There’s an eerie sway to the opening title track, backed by rich piano chords and clattering cymbal textures. Fender Rhodes and the light clack of a rhythm track give “Inertia of a Dream” an uneasy momentum. And forlorn trumpet, percussion and piano situate “Last Sip” at closing time in a forgotten jazz club. There’s something evasive yet subtly intoxicating at work here, the album’s ten songs breezing past in half an hour, leaving plenty of unanswered questions in their wake.

Tim Clarke

Dry Cleaning — “Bug Eggs” / “Tony Speaks!” (4AD)

Bug Eggs/Tony Speaks! by Dry Cleaning

A few months on from the release of their excellent debut album, New Long Leg, Dry Cleaning have put out two more songs from the same sessions, which are featured as bonus tracks on the Japanese edition. For a band whose unique appeal is mostly attributed to Florence Shaw’s surreal lyrics and deadpan delivery, it’s heartening to hear further evidence that it’s the complete cocktail of musical ingredients — Shaw plus Tom Dowse’s inventive guitar, Lewis Maynard’s satisfyingly thick bass, and Nick Buxton’s driving drums — that alchemizes into their winning sound. The verse guitar chords of “Bug Eggs” are naggingly similar to New Long Leg’s “More Big Birds,” while the instrumental chorus has a yearning feel akin to album highlight “Her Hippo.” Maynard’s bass tone on “Tony Speaks!” is absolutely filthy, swallowing up most of the mix until Dowse’s guitar bares its teeth in a swarm of squalling wah-wah, while Shaw’s lyrics muse upon the decline of heavy industry, the environment, and crisps.

Tim Clarke

Flight Mode — TX, ’98 (Sound As Language)

TX, '98 by Flight Mode

In 1998, well before he started Little Hands of Asphalt, Sjur Lyseid spent a year in Texas at the height of the emo wave, skateboarding and going to house shows and listening to the Get Up Kids. TX, ’98 is the Norwegian’s tribute to that coming of age experience, the giddy euphorias of mid-teenage freedom filtered through bittersweet subsequent experience. “Sixteen” is the banger, all crunchy, twitchy exhilarating guitars and vulnerable pop tunefulness, its clangor breaking for wistful reminiscence, but “Fossil Fuel” waxes lyrical, its guitar riffs splintering into radiant shards, its lyrics capturing those youthful years when anything seems possible and also, somehow, the later recognition that perhaps it isn’t. It’s an interesting tension between the now-is-everything hedonism of adolescence and the rueful remembering of adulthood, encapsulate in a chorus that goes, “Well wait and see if there’s no more history/and just defend the present tense.”

Jennifer Kelly

Drew Gardner— S-T (Eiderdown Records)

S/T by Drew Gardner

Drew Gardner has been popping up all over lately, on Elkhorn’s snowed in acoustic jam Storm Sessions and the electrified follow-up Sun Cycle and as one of Jeffrey Alexander’s Heavy Lidders. Here, it’s just him and his guitar plus a like-minded rhythm section (that’s Ryan Jewell on drums and Garcia Peoples’ Andy Cush on bass), spinning off dreamy, folk-into-interstellar-journeys like “Calyx” and “Kelp Highway.” Gardner puts some muscle into some of his grooves, running close to Chris Forsyth’s wide-angle electric boogie in “Bird Food.” “The Road to Eastern Garden,” though, is pure limpid transcendence, Buddhist monastery bells jangling as Gardner’s warm, inquiring melodic line intersects with rubbery bends on bass. Give this one a little time to sit, but don’t miss it.

Jennifer Kelly

Hearth — Melt (Clean Feed)

Melt by Hearth

This pan-European quartet’s name suggests domesticity, but the fact that none of its members lives in the country of their birth probably says more about the breadth of their music. The closest geographic point of reference for the sounds that pianist Kaja Draksler, trumpeter Susana Santos Silva, and saxophonists Ada Rave and Mette Rasmussen’s make together would be Chicago’s south side. Their dynamic blend of angular structures, extended instrumental techniques, and obscurely theatrical enactments brings to mind the Art Ensemble of Chicago, even though the sounds on this concert-length recording rarely echo the AEC’s. But it is similarly charged with mystery and collective identity.

Bill Meyer

Klaus Lang / Konus Quartett — Drei Allmenden (Cubus)

Drei Allmenden (translation: Three Commons) treats the act of commission as an opportunity to create common cause. For composer and keyboardist Klaus Lang, this is a chance to push back against a long trend of separation and stratification, with musicians bound to realize the composer’s whim, no matter the cost. Invoking works from the 16th century, he penned something simple, flexible and open to embellishment. Then he pitched in with Konus Quartett, a Swiss saxophone ensemble, to get the job done. The three-part piece, which lasts 43 sublime minutes, amply rewards the submersion of ego. Lang’s slowly morphing harmonium drones and Konus’ long reed tones sound like one instrument, enriched by tendrils of sound that rise up and then sink back into the music’s body.

Bill Meyer

Lynch, Moore, Riley — Secant / Tangent (dx/dy)

Secant | Tangent by Sue Lynch, N.O. Moore, Crystabel Riley

Electric guitarist N.O. Moore is barely known in these parts. I’ve only heard him on one album with Eddie Prévost a couple years back, and the other two musicians, not at all. But on the strength of this robust performance, which was recorded at London’s Icklectick venue, it would be a loss to keep it that way. They combine acoustic sounds with electronics, courtesy of guitar effects and amplification, in an exceedingly natural fashion. Each musician also gets into the other’s business in ways that correspond to the one spicy suggestion made by one cook that elevates another’s dish to the next level. Susan Lynch’s clarinet and flute compliment Moore’s radiophonic/feedback sounds like two flashes of lightning illuminating the same dark cloud, and her vigorously pecking saxophone attack mixes with Crystabel’s cascading beats like idiosyncratically tuned drums. This is one of the first albums to be released on Moore’s dx/dy label; keep your eye out for more.

Bill Meyer

Maco Sica / Hamid Drake Tatsu Aoki & Thymme Jones—Ourania (Feeding Tube)

OURANIA by Mako Sica / Hamid Drake featuring Tatsu Aoki & Thymme Jones

Ourania is named for the muse associated with astronomy in Greek mythology, and the album has an aim for the stars quality. In 2020, Chicago’s Mako Sica lost not only the chance to play concerts, but one third of its number. Core members Brent Fuscaldo (electric bass, voice, harmonica, percussion) and Przemyslaw Krys Drazek (electric trumpet, electric guitar, mandolin) could have just hunkered down with their respective TV sets. Instead, they booked themselves three other musicians who make rising above circumstances a core practice. The duo convened at Electrical Audio with Hamid Drake (drums, percussion, Tatsu Aoki (upright bass, shamisen), and Thymme Jones (piano, organ, balloon, trumpet, voice, recorder, percussion), rolled tape for a couple hours, and walked out with this album. The 85 minute-long recording (edited to about half that length on vinyl, but the LP comes with a download card) exudes a vibe of calm, even beatitude, with twin trumpets and Fuscaldo’s echo-laden, nearly word-free vocals weaving though a sequence of patient grooves like migrational birds on the glide.

Bill Meyer

Mar Caribe — Hymn of the Mar Caribe (Mar Caribe)

Hymn of the Mar Caribe b/w Rondo for Unemployment by mar caribe

Some musicians burn to make something new; others generate attention-getting sounds designed to maximize the potential of their other earning activities; and others, well, they just want you to sway along with their version of the good sounds. Mar Caribe falls into that last category. This Chicago-based instrumental ensemble has spent most of the last decade maintaining a robust performance schedule, and it would seem that recording is pretty much an afterthought; a photo of the test pressing for this 7” was posted in May 2019, but the release show didn’t happen until August 2021. Sure, COVID can be blamed for part of the delay, but one suspects that mostly, these guys just want to play, and they didn’t bother to stuff the singles in the sleeves until they knew when they’d next be leaning over a merch table. The titular suspends anthemic brass and pedal steel over a swinging double bass cadence, and if there was a moment during the night when the band invited the audience to pledge allegiance to their favorite drink, this is what they’d be playing while they asked. Guitars lead on the flip side, whose busy twists and turns belie the implied laziness of the title, “Rondo For Unemployment.”

Bill Meyer

Mint Julep — In a Deep and Dreamless Sleep (Western Vinyl)

In A Deep And Dreamless Sleep by Mint Julep

These songs traverse a hazy, dreamlike space, diffusing dance beats, dream-y vocals and synth pulses into inchoate sensation that nonetheless retains enough rhythmic propulsion to keep your heart rate up. “A Rising Sun” filters jangly guitar and bass through a sizzle of static, letting tambourine thump gently somewhere off camera, as voices soothe and reassure. “Mirage” pounds a four-on-the-floor, but quietly, angelically, like a disco visited through astral projection or maybe a really rave-y iteration of heaven. There’s an ominous undercurrent to “Longshore Drift,” in its growly, sub-bass-y hum, but glittering bits of synth sprinkle over like fairy dust. This is indefinitely gorgeous stuff, ethereal but surprisingly energizing. Dance or drift, take your pick.

Jennifer Kelly

Monocot — Directions We Know (Feeding Tube)

Direction We Know by Monocot

Directions We Know is an LP of free-form freak-outs generated by an instrumental duo that includes one musician who you might expect to perpetuate such a ruckus, and one that you might not. The more likely character is drummer Jayson Gerycz, who may be known for keeping time with the Cloud Nothings, but has shown a willingness to wax colorizing in the company of Anthony Pasquarosa, Jen Powers and Matthew Rolin. The happy surprise is Rosali Middleman, whose singer-songwriter efforts have kept her guitar playing firmly in service of her songs. She doesn’t exactly abandon lyricism in Monocot, but the tunes serve as launching ramps for exuberant lunges into the realm of voltage-saturated sound. On “Ruby Throated,” the first of the record’s four extended jams, Middleman lofts rippling peals over a near-boil of  drums and churning loops. By the time you get to “Multidimensional Solutions,” the last and longest track, her wah-wah-dipped streams of sound have taken on a blackened quality, as though her overheating tubes have burned every note.

Bill Meyer

Obits — Die at the Zoo (Outer Battery)

Die At The Zoo by Obits

Few aughts rock bands held more promise than Obits. The four-piece headed by Hot Snakes’ Rick Froberg and Edsel’s Sohrab Habibion emerged in 2005 with a stinging, stripped-back, blues-touched sound. Froberg’s feral snarl rode a surfy, twitchy amplified onslaught, that was, by 2012 a finely tuned machine. I caught one of the live shows following Moody, Standard and Poor at small club in Northampton the same year this was recorded (so small that I was sitting on a couch next to Froberg, oblivious, for 20 minutes before the show), and what struck me was how well the band played together. The records sound chaotic, and that was certainly there in performance, but the cuts and stops were perfect, the surfy instrumental breaks (“New August”) absolutely in tune. At the time this set was recorded in the Brisbane punk landmark known as the Zoo, the band was near the peak of its considerable powers—and regrettably near the end of its run. Die at the Zoo is reasonably well recorded, rough enough to capture the band’s raucous energy, skilled enough so you can understand the words and hear all the parts. It hits all the highlights, blistering early cuts like “Widow of My Dreams,” and “Pine On,” the blues cover “Milk Cow Blues,” and later, slightly more melodic ragers like “Everything Looks Better in the Morning” and “You Gotta Lose.” The guitar work is particularly sharp throughout, its straight-on chug breaking into fiery blues licks and surfy whammy explosions. It’s a poignant reminder of a time when American rock bands played ferocious shows halfway across the world (or anywhere) as a matter of course and a fitting eulogy for Obits.

Jennifer Kelly

A Place To Bury Strangers — Hologram (Dedstrange)

Hologram EP by A Place To Bury Strangers

A Place To Bury Strangers returns with a new rhythm section and renewed focus on the elements that made its version of revivalism the loudest if not brashest of the New York aughties. Sarah and John Fedowitz on drums and bass join Oliver Ackerman on the five track EP Hologram which is the most concise and vital APTBS release for a while. For all the criticism of copyism thrown at the band since their early days, APTBS has always been as much about Ackerman’s production skills and feel for texture as musical originality and the songs on Hologram sound fantastic at volume. Beneath the sonic onslaught of fuzz and reverb, not a brick is misplaced in this intricately constructed sonic wall. True “I Might Have” is pure Jesus & Mary Chain and “In My Hive” a Wax Trax take on Spector but Hologram is an endorphin rush of guitar driven noise bound to make one forget the world, if only for a while.

Andrew Forell

Praises — EP4 (Hand Drawn Dracula)

Jesse Crowe’s work as Praises has been ongoing since 2014, but has shifted in tone, instrumentation and emphasis since then. While the first two EPs have more of a full, rock band feel, the third one and 2018’s full-length In This Year: Ten of Swords took things in a more electronic, sometimes industrial direction. It was an even better fit for the rest, probing creativity evident in Praises’ work, and 3/4s of the new EP4 are in a pleasingly similar vein. The echoing, ringing denunciations of “We Let Go” and “A World on Fire” are fine examples of Praises’ existing strengths, but the opening “Apples for My Love” is immediately captivating in a very different way. Gauzy and rapturous, it’s a reverie that keeps the satisfying textural detail of the other songs but turns them to different ends. It’s not something that was missing from Crowe’s work before — again, the other tracks here are also very good — but a reminder that what Praises has shown before is not the extent of what they can do.

Ian Mathers

The Sundae Painters — The First SP Single (Leather Jacket)

“This is a supergroup, is it not?” someone asked the Sundae Painters bassist Paul Kean on social media last year, to which he responded, “Some may choose that title. We prefer superglue.” Kaye Woodward, his wife and longtime bandmate in both The Bats and Minisnap, takes the lead vocal on “Thin Air,” one of the pair of A-sides found on their new band’s debut seven-inch. From the outset, Kean’s unmistakable bass playing and Hamish Kilgour’s (The Clean/Mad Scene) drumming lock into a psychedelic march, with the other instruments weaving like kites above, vying for position on the same breeze. “You fight your way down/You fight your way up/You wait for the dust to settle,” Woodward sings. A few gentle strums cut their way through the parade, and a guitar calls out gull-like from above, before everything trails off as if something potent has just kicked in. On the flip side, “Aversion” has an old friend-like familiarity to it, soundwise (if not lengthwise) sitting somewhere between VU’s “The Gift” and “Sister Ray.” Things begin a little stand-offish, though, like you’ve interrupted a guitar pontificating to a rapt audience — it turns its head to look you over, falling momentarily silent, before picking right back up where it left off. Kilgour’s spoken vocals join the conversation, as the song builds towards a groovy kind of fever pitch. “You look a little stoned,” he says, before responding to his own observation. “Well me I’m a little bit groggy/But it ain’t too foggy/I can see some way of getting out of here.” By this point, both guitars (played by Woodward and Tall Dwarfs’ Alec Bathgate) are full-on screeching and howling, and as the song sputters to a sudden finish, our man’s left waiting for someone to buy him “a ride out the gate.”

Chris Liberato    

Thou — Hightower (Self-released)

Hightower by Thou

Hightower is the latest in a string of digital compilations from Thou, most of which collect songs that have been previously released on small-batch splits, 7” records and other hyper-obscure media that briefly circulated through the metal underground. You might be tempted to pronounce that a cynical cash-grab, but Thou has posted Hightower (along with previous compilations, like Algiers, Oakland and Blessings of the Highest Order, a killer collection of Nirvana covers) on their official Bandcamp page as a name-yo’-price download. Thanks, band. Beyond convenience, Hightower has an additional, if a sort of inside-baseball, attraction. The band has re-recorded a few of its older songs with its latest, three-guitar line-up. Longtime listeners will recognize “Smoke Pigs” and “Fucking Chained to the Bottom of the Ocean,” which already sounded terrifyingly massive back in 2008 and 2007, respectively. The expanded instrumentation, new arrangements and better production give the songs even more power and depth, all the way down to the bottom of the effing ocean. Yikes. And there are a few additional touches, like K.C. Stafford’s clean vocals on “Fucking Chained…,” which provide an effective complement to Bryan Funck’s inimitably scabrous howl. Rarely has being pummeled and feeling bummed out been so vivifying.

Jonathan Shaw

Tropical Fuck Storm — Deep States (Joyful Noise)

Deep States by Tropical Fuck Storm

Fueled by exasperation as much as anger, the new album by Melbourne’s Tropical Fuck Storm rounds on the myriad ways in which the world has become a “Bumma Sanger” as leader Gareth Liddiard puts it on the eponymous song about COVID lockdown. A roiling meld of psychedelic garage garnished with elements of hip hop and electronic noise it’s close in method and mood if not sound to another Australian provocateur JG Thirwell whose Foetus project girded maximalist surfaces with rigid discipline. If the Tropical Fuck Storm sought to mirror current conditions, they succeed but lack of clarity in both production and intent makes Deep States a frustrating experience. Backing vocals from Fiona Kitschin (bass), Erica Dunn (keys and guitar) and Lauren Hammel (drums) leaven Liddiard’s blokey pronouncements and there are some good sounds and biting words but the band’s determination to overelaborate and underdevelop musical ideas makes this album seem like a lost opportunity.

Andrew Forell

Marta Warelis / Carlos “Zingaro” / Helena Espvall /Marcelo dos Reis — Turquoise Dream (JACC)

Turquoise Dream by Marta Warelis, Carlos "Zíngaro", Helena Espvall, Marcelo dos Reis

Turquoise Dream documents an example of an encounter that is a mainstay of avant-garde jazz festivals, in which out of towners mix it up locals that they may or may not know. This particular concert, which took place at the Jazz ao Centro Festival in 2019, is one such encounter that deserves to live past the night when it transpired. It featured three stringed instrument players who live in Portugal and a Polish pianist who is based in Holland. But they don’t sound like strangers at all. Violinist Zingaro, cellist Espvall, and guitarist dos Reis blend like flashes of sunlight reflecting off of waves, adding up to a sound that is bright and ever-changing. Warelis, who is equally resourceful with her head under the lid of her piano as she is at the keyboard, adding fleet but substantial responses to her hosts’ quicksilver interactions. The result is music that is resolutely abstract but closely engaged.

Bill Meyer

Wharflurch — Psychedelic Realms ov Hell (Gurgling Gore)

PSYCHEDELIC REALMS OV HELL by Wharflurch

Wharflurch is just plain fun to say — but there are at least two ways in which the name also makes sense for the band that has chosen it: it has a bilious, nauseous quality that matches the vibe of the pustulent death metal you’ll hear on Psychedelic Realms ov Hell; and if you separate the words, you can conjure a sodden, rotten wooden structure, swaying vertiginously over a marshy expanse of water, which is filled with alligators and decaying organic material. Imagine that sway, and that stink, and then imagine yourself collapsing into the viscous fluid, soon to be gator chow. Sounds like Florida, and that’s exactly from whence Wharflurch has emerged. Which also makes sense. Is Wharflurch’s music “psychedelic”? Depends on what you hear in that word. If you want to see hippies dancing ecstatically on a verdant, sun-drenched stretch of Golden Gate Park, then no. But if you have spent any time in the warped, dementedly distorted spaces that psychedelics can open (less happily perhaps, but very powerfully), then yes. Wharflurch likes to accent its meaty riffs and muscular thumps with weird flutters and electronic effects that frequently have a gastric, flatulent quality to them. The saturated and sickly pinks and greens on the album art do a pretty good job of capturing the music’s tones. So do the song titles: “Stoned Ape Apocalypse,” “Bog Body Boletus,” “Phantasmagorical Fumes.” Still game? I’m sorry. But I’ll also be standing right there next to you, on that wobbly, lurching wharf, watching the gators swim near.

Jonathan Shaw

Whisper Room — Lunokhod (Midira Records)

Lunokhod by Whisper Room

That the title of Whisper Room’s fifth album is taken from Soviet lunar rovers makes a certain sense, given how potentially frustrating it might have been for the trio to be working at such a distance. Generally their other records are recorded live, in one room, seeing Aidan Baker (guitar), Jakob Thiesen (drums) and Neil Wiernik (bass) exploring simultaneously, hitting whatever junctions of psychedelic/shoegazing/motorik sound come to them. With Baker in Berlin and travel understandably limiited, this time they recorded their parts separately, layering them together (and bringing in sound designer Scott Deathe to add the kind of pedal processing their sound engineer normally does live). The result certainly sounds as collaborative as ever, seven seamless tracks making up nearly an hour that makes the journey from the friendly, clattering percussion of “Lunokhod01” to the centrifugal ambience of “Lunokhod07” feel perfectly natural. Even though it explores just as much inner and outer space as Whisper Room ever have, there’s something very approachable about Lunokhod that makes it one of their best.

Ian Mathers

#dust #dustedmagazine #big thief #tim clarke #Simão Costa #bill meyer #dry cleaning #flight mode #jennifer kelly #drew gardner #klaus lang #konus quartett #mako sico #hamid drake #mar caribe #mint julep #monocot #praises #ian mathers #the sundae painters #chris liberato #thou #jonathan shaw #marta warelis #carlos zingaro #helena espvall #marcelo dos reis #wharfluch #cots #marc berreca

[visionj-journal]

COMMISSIONS - KO-FI - CARRD - WEBSITE - REDBUBBLE SHOP - TWITTER - INSTAGRAM - YOUTUBE

.

Now I always feel a bit guilty for not getting to my Naruto OCs - being occupied with all the others, doing profile shots for One Piece OCs, making art for Kingdom Hearts OCs, my Naurto OCs just never seem to get the spotlight tey deserve.

So when I got into the swing of sketching chibi characters I started on these two. Uzumaki Mito and Uzumaki Hisoka from my Whirlpool Connection Verse - this then got me into re-working of the AU for a little bit, before my attention turned to something else (but I WILL get back to it, I swear ;o;)

These still need a bit of re-working, I don’t think they’re cute enough, but I wanted to get the flat colors down before anything else.

#sketching #chibi #art process #naruto oc #naruto #uzumaki oc #whirlc verse #neragranic #uzumaki mito #uzumaki hisoka

[myhapserv]

Enhancing Your Laundry Experience: Reliable Washing Machine Services in Coimbatore

Introduction:

In a bustling city like Coimbatore, where daily chores demand efficiency, a malfunctioning washing machine can disrupt the smooth flow of your household. Whether you're a busy professional, a homemaker, or a student, having a reliable washing machine is essential to keep up with the demands of modern living. In this blog post, we'll explore the importance of timely washing machine services in Coimbatore and how they can contribute to a hassle-free laundry routine.

Washing Machine Service in Coimbatore

Why Regular Washing Machine Services Matter:

Optimal Performance:

Regular servicing ensures that your washing machine is operating at its optimal performance. Technicians can identify and address any issues before they escalate, preventing unexpected breakdowns.

LG Washing Machine Service in Coimbatore

Extended Lifespan:

Just like any other appliance, a washing machine has a finite lifespan. However, with proper care and regular maintenance, you can extend its longevity. Servicing helps in identifying and replacing worn-out parts, preventing major breakdowns.

Energy Efficiency:

A well-maintained washing machine is more energy-efficient. Technicians can clean filters, check for leaks, and optimize settings, ensuring that your appliance runs smoothly without consuming excessive energy.

Samsung Washing Machine Service in Coimbatore

Choosing the Right Washing Machine Service in Coimbatore:

Professional Expertise:

Look for a service provider with a team of experienced technicians. They should be well-versed in servicing various brands and models of washing machines.

Prompt and Convenient Service:

Time is of the essence when your washing machine is acting up. Choose a service that offers prompt and convenient scheduling, minimizing the downtime of your appliance.

Bosch Washing Machine Service in Coimbatore

Transparent Pricing:

A reliable service provider will provide transparent pricing, ensuring that you understand the costs involved before the service begins. Avoid hidden charges by choosing a reputable company.

DIY Maintenance Tips:

While professional servicing is crucial, there are some maintenance tasks you can perform on your own to keep your washing machine in top condition:

Siemens Washing Machine Service in Coimbatore

Regular Cleaning:

Wipe down the interior and exterior of your washing machine to prevent the buildup of detergent residue and mold.

Check Hoses and Connections:

Periodically inspect hoses for signs of wear and tear, and ensure that all connections are tight and secure.

IFB Washing Machine Service in Coimbatore

Use the Right Detergent:

Using the wrong detergent or excessive amounts can lead to residue buildup and affect your machine's performance. Follow the manufacturer's guidelines for the best results.

Whirlpool Washing Machine Service in Coimbatore

Conclusion:

Investing in regular washing machine services in Coimbatore is a proactive approach to maintaining the heart of your laundry routine. By entrusting your appliance to experienced professionals, you not only enhance its performance but also ensure that it serves you well for years to come. Don't let a malfunctioning washing machine disrupt your daily life – schedule a service today and enjoy the convenience of a smoothly running appliance.

#Siemens Washing Machine Service in Coimbatore #Bosch Washing Machine Service in Coimbatore #LG Washing Machine Service in Coimbatore #Samsung Washing Machine Service in Coimbatore

[michaelbogild]

Quotes by Fernando Pessoa

All I’ve ever done is dream. That, and only that, has been the meaning of my existence. The only thing I’ve ever really cared about is my inner life. My greatest griefs faded to nothing the moment I opened the window onto my inner self and lost myself in watching. I never tried to be anything other than a dreamer. I never paid any attention to people who told me to go out and live. I belonged always to whatever was far from me and to whatever I could never be. Anything that was not mine, however base, always seemed to be full of poetry. The only thing I ever loved was pure nothingness.

And I have the others in me. Even when I’m far away from them, I am forced to live with them. Even when I’m all alone, crowds surround me. I have no place to flee to, unless I were to flee from myself.

And, like the great damned souls, I shall always feel that thinking is worth more than living.

At first I felt dizzy - not with the kind of dizziness that makes the body reel but the kind that's like a dead emptiness in the brain, an instinctive awareness of the void.

Being tired of all illusions and of everything about illusions – the loss of illusions, the uselessness of having them, the prefatigue of having to have them in order to lose them, the sadness of having had them, the intellectual shame of having had them knowing that they would have to end this way.

Blessed are those who entrust their lives to no one.

Eternal tourists of ourselves, there is no landscape but what we are. We possess nothing, for we don’t even possess ourselves. We have nothing because we are nothing. What hand will I reach out, and to what universe? The universe isn’t mine: it’s me.

Everything around me is evaporating. My whole life, my memories, my imagination and its contents, my personality - it's all evaporating. I continuously feel that I was someone else, that I felt something else, that I thought something else. What I'm attending here is a show with another set. And the show I'm attending is myself.

I am nothing. I'll never be anything. I couldn't want to be something. Apart from that, I have in me all the dreams in the world

I bear the wounds of all the battles I avoided.

I carry my awareness of defeat like a banner of victory.

I feel as if I'm always on the verge of waking up.

I know nothing and my heart achesto know how to think with emotions and to feel with intellect…

I realize that I was all error and deviation, that I never lived, that I existed only in so far as I filled time with consciousness and thought.

I suffer from life and from other people. I can’t look at reality face to face. Even the sun discourages and depresses me. Only at night and all alone, withdrawn, forgotten and lost, with no connection to anything real or useful — only then do I find myself and feel comforted.

I wasn’t meant for reality, but life came and found me.

I'd woken up early, and I took a long time getting ready to exist.

I'm sick of everything, and of the everythingness of everything.

I've always rejected being understood. To be understood is to prostitute oneself. I prefer to be taken seriously for what I'm not, remaining humanly unknown, with naturalness and all due respect

I've never done anything but dream. This, and this alone, has been the meaning of my life. My only real concern has been my inner life.

In order to understand, I destroyed myself.

In the ordinary jumble of my literary drawer, I sometimes find texts I wrote ten, fifteen, or even more years ago. And many of them seem to me written by a stranger: I simply do not recognize myself in them. There was a person who wrote them, and it was I. I experienced them, but it was in another life, from which I just woke up, as if from someone else's dream.

In this metallic age of barbarians, only a relentless cultivation of our ability to dream, to analyse and to captivate can prevent our personality from degenerating into nothing or else into a personality like all the rest.

I’ve dreamed a lot. I’m tired now from dreaming but not tired of dreaming. No one tires of dreaming, because to dream is to forget, and forgetting does not weigh on us, it is a dreamless sleep throughout which we remain awake. In dreams I have achieved everything.

Life is an experimental journey undertaken involuntarily. It is a journey of the spirit through the material world and, since it is the spirit that travels, it is the spirit that is experienced. That is why there exist contemplative souls who have lived more intensely, more widely, more tumultuously than others who have lived their lives purely externally.

Life is what we make of it. Travel is the traveler. What we see isn't what we see but what we are.

Literature is the most agreeable way of ignoring life.

Lord, may the pain be ours, And the weakness that it brings, But at least give us the strength, Of not showing it to anyone!

Man shouldn’t be able to see his own face – there’s nothing more sinister. Nature gave him the gift of not being able to see it, and of not being able to stare into his own eyes. Only in the water of rivers and ponds could he look at his face. And the very posture he had to assume was symbolic. He had to bend over, stoop down, to commit the ignominy of beholding himself.  The inventor of the mirror poisoned the human heart.

Masquerades disclose the reality of souls. As long as no one sees who we are, we can tell the most intimate details of our life. I sometimes muse over this sketch of a story about a man afflicted by one of those personal tragedies born of extreme shyness who one day, while wearing a mask I don’t know where, told another mask all the most personal, most secret, most unthinkable things that could be told about his tragic and serene life. And since no outward detail would give him away, he having disguised even his voice, and since he didn’t take careful note of whoever had listened to him, he could enjoy the ample sensation of knowing that somewhere in the world there was someone who knew him as not even his closest and finest friend did. When he walked down the street he would ask himself if this person, or that one, or that person over there might not be the one to whom he’d once, wearing a mask, told his most private life. Thus would be born in him a new interest in each person, since each person might be his only, unknown confidant.

My hapless peers with their lofty dreams--how I envy and despise them! I'm with the others, the even more hapless, who have no-one but themselves to whom they can tell their dreams and show what would be verses if they wrote them. I'm with those poor slobs who have no books to show, who have no literature beside their own soul, and who are suffocating to death due to the fact that they exist without having taken that mysterious, transcendental exam that makes one eligible to live.

My past is everything I failed to be.

My soul is a black maelstrom, a great madness spinning about a vacuum, the swirling of a vast ocean around a hole in the void, and in the waters, more like whirlwinds than waters, float images of all I ever saw or heard in the world: houses, faces, books, boxes, snatches of music and fragments of voices, all caught up in a sinister, bottomless whirlpool.

My soul is a hidden orchestra; I know not what instruments, what fiddlestrings and harps, drums and tamboura I sound and clash inside myself. All I hear is the symphony.

My soul is impatient with itself, as with a bothersome child; its restlessness keeps growing and is forever the same. Everything interests me, but nothing holds me.

My soul is impatient with itself, as with a bothersome child; its restlessness keeps growing and is forever the same. Everything interests me, but nothing holds me. I attend to everything, dreaming all the while. […]. I'm two, and both keep their distance — Siamese twins that aren't attached.

No intelligent idea can gain general acceptance unless some stupidity is mixed in with it

Sit still with me in the shade of these green trees, which have no weightier thought than the withering of their leaves when autumn arrives, or the stretching of their many stiff fingers into the cold sky of the passing winter. Sit still with me and meditate on how useless effort is, how alien the will, and on how our very meditation is no more useful than effort, and no more our own than the will. Meditate too on how a life that wants nothing can have no weight in the flux of things, but a life the wants everything can likewise have no weight in the flux of things, since it cannot obtain everything, and to obtain less than everything is not worthy of souls that seek the truth.

The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd - The longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible; nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world’s existence. All these half-tones of the soul’s consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are.

The unnatural and the strange have a perfume of their own

There are metaphors more real than the people who walk in the street. There are images tucked away in books that live more vividly than many men and women. There are phrases from literary works that have a positively human personality. There are passages from my own writing that chill me with fright, so distinctly do I feel them as people, so sharply outlined do they appear against the walls of my room, at night, in shadows... I've written sentences whose sound, read out loud or silently (impossible to hide their sound), can only be of something that acquired absolute exteriority and a full-fledged soul.

There are no norms. All people are exceptions to a rule that doesn’t exist.

There are ships sailing to many ports, but not a single one goes where life is not painful.

To be great, be whole; Exclude nothing, exaggerate nothing that is not you. Be whole in everything. Put all you are Into the smallest thing you do. So, in each lake, the moon shines with splendor Because it blooms up above

To have opinions is to sell out to youself. To have no opinions is to exist. To have every opinion is to be a poet.

Today I suddenly experienced an absurd but quite valid sensation. I realized, in an intimate lightning flash, that I am no one. No one, absolutely no one.

Today, suddenly, I reached an absurd but unerring conclusion. In a moment of enlightenment, I realized that I'm nobody, absolutely nobody. When the lightning flashed, I saw that what I had thought to be a city was in fact a deserted plain and, in the same sinister light that revealed me to myself, there seemed to be no sky above it. I was robbed of any possibility of having existed before the world. If I was ever reincarnated, I must have done so without myself, without a self to reincarnate. I am the outskirts of some non-existent town, the long-winded prologue to an unwritten book. I'm nobody, nobody. I don't know how to feel or think or love. I'm a character in a novel as yet unwritten, hovering in the air and undone before I've even existed, amongst the dreams of someone who never quite managed to breathe life into me. I'm always thinking, always feeling, but my thoughts lack all reason, my emotions all feeling. I'm falling through a trapdoor, through infinite, infinitous space, in a directionless, empty fall. My soul is a black maelstrom, a great madness spinning about a vacuum, the swirling of a vast ocean around a hole in the void, and in the waters, more like whirlwinds than waters, float images of all I ever saw or heard in the world: houses, faces, books, boxes, snatches of music and fragments of voices, all caught up in a sinister, bottomless whirlpool. And I, I myself, am the centre that exists only because the geometry of the abyss demands it; I am the nothing around which all this spins, I exist so that it can spin, I am a centre that exists only because every circle has one. I, I myself, am the well in which the walls have fallen away to leave only viscous slime. I am the centre of everything surrounded by the great nothing. And it is as if hell itself were laughing within me but, instead of the human touch of diabolical laughter, there's the mad croak of the dead universe, the circling cadaver of physical space, the end of all worlds drifting blackly in the wind, misshapen, anachronistic, without the God who created it, without God himself who spins in the dark of darks, impossible, unique, everything. If only I could think! If only I could feel!

We all have two lives: The true, the one we dreamed of in childhood And go on dreaming of as adults in a substratum of mist; the false, the one we love when we live with others, the practical, the useful, the one we end up by being put in a coffin.

We are two abysses - a well staring at the sky.

We never love anyone. What we love is the idea we have of someone. It's our own concept—our own selves—that we love.

We worship perfection because we can't have it; if we had it, we would reject it. Perfection is inhuman, because humanity is imperfect.

What Hells and Purgatories and Heavens I have inside of me! But who sees me do anything that disagrees with life--me, so calm and peaceful?

When all by myself, I can think of all kinds of clever remarks, quick comebacks to what no one said, and flashes of witty sociability with nobody. But all of this vanishes when I face someone in the flesh: I lose my intelligence, I can no longer speak, and after half an hour I just feel tired. Talking to people makes me feel like sleeping. Only my ghostly and imaginary friends, only the conversations I have in my dreams, are genuinely real and substantial.

Whether or not they exist we are slaves to our gods.

Without madness what is man But a wholesome beast, Postponed corpse that begets

[alannah-corvaine]

the big ‘so you’ve found my blog’ post;

So. The follow button has led you to me, and now here you are with me on your dash. I assume you’re here for one to three reasons: the ffxiv content I post and reblog, my character(s), and/or the aesthetic content. Possibly also my riveting commentary on why ffxiv hasn’t added a sidebraid hairstyle yet. You’re all valid and welcome here. 

Maybe you’re curious about me and my OCs, but you don’t want to go digging through my blog and the absolute mess of tags I’ve amassed over the years. I’m here to present a half-assed solution to your curiosity instead of fixing my tags in any sort of meaningful way.

                                   WHO RUNS THIS BLOG?

I’m Alicia, I run this circus.

she/her pronouns, I’m cis.

I’m 31 years old at the time of writing this post.

This blog is 5 going on 6 years old.

If you see @alannahcorvaine​ that blog is also me but I don’t use it anymore, as it’s a sideblog and I moved over to this blog years ago.

I’ve been playing FFXIV since 2015.

I also play Elder Scrolls Online and World of Warcraft and have separate blogs for related OCs, content, and aesthetics.

I’m a cat person but I also love dogs.

I have a five year old black cat named Kilala who keeps me in line.

I’m not much of a people person, I’m made of anxiety and paperclips.

I yell into the void a lot, the void being my blog.

I don’t really RP outside of spectacularly outstanding circumstances these days, but character and world building are my jam.

Even if I don’t RP, I’m always down for character connections and relationships. I’m totally up for brainstorming and bouncing around headcanons.

Most of the time in game you’ll find me either standing around my house or out in the world taking screenshots. My mailing address is gpose.

I have a full roster of 8 characters on Balmung, but currently only 3 are active. You’ll probably see screenshots of the others too from time to time.

                                                    THE OCs

                                      A L A N N A H  C O R V A I N E 

Your first assumption on seeing my blog name is that it’s probably the name of the titular OC that this blog focuses on. You would be correct. All of my OCs have their own blogs, however I am infinitely lazy and just end up posting screenshots of everyone here because this is where the followers are and the sideblogs end up being used as aesthetic warehouses. Anywhoo, here’s some need-to-knows about Alannah.

Alannah has two main verses: Warrior of Light and Non-WoL.

Her non-WoLverse is actually the primary one, but with Shadowbringers I’ve been focusing more on her WoL story. 

I also have an infinite amount of AU verses for her based on various media but nobody has time for me to list all of those.

In both verses she’s a White Mage, a capable healer, but focuses more on offensive elemental spells (wind, water, earth).

Alannah is my only OC with a Warrior of Light verse.

She’s 23 years old.

She has severe allergies to  grass, pollen, dust, dander, and certain foods.

Her allergy reactions are largely kept at bay by a delicate chain diadem made and blessed by padjal. It also helps correct her shitty vision, magic is great.

Her deepest fears include deep water and phurbles.

She has four older brothers: Faron, Ean, Davon, and Brennan.

Family issues. Just so many family issues. That’s an entire post on its own.

Her hair is dark brown, not black. I cannot state this emphatically enough no matter what my edits look like.

The white streaks are magical scars, the cause of them vary by verse.

Non-WoL Alannah is married to Nine Outway, they have a three-year old daughter named Aislinn.

Warrior of Light Alannah (hereafter known as WoLannah) I ship exclusively with dead ghost boyfriend Ardbert.

Deep-seated anger issues buried beneath a placid and friendly exterior.

Her aether is just irreparably borked and highly chaotic and is controlled via her staff and arcane symbols painted onto her arms in aether ink.

Her childhood dream was to be a powerful thaumaturge, which didn’t work out with her aether control issues. 

                                R E B E C C A  “B R I N A”  C R O S S                                               ( @thesilentcygnet​ )

26 years old.

Born to a moderately wealthy Limsan merchant family.

2 older sisters: Pippa and Lacy.

Jacke Swallow (of rogues guild fame)  is her best friend (and secret love) since childhood.

Her entire family was murdered when she was 16 because her father made shady deals with the wrong people and owed them money.

She’s been mute since the day of the massacre after witnessing the murders while hiding in the cellar beneath their feet.

She’s been staying with Jacke and his cohorts in the Dutiful Sisters of the Edelweiss since then, though he’s the only one that knows her true identity.

A long chain of events has lead to her being kidnapped from Kugane, shipwrecked off the coast of Othard twice, sucked into a magical whirlpool, and left stranded on the First.

Will she ever get home? Perhaps, when I’ve finally decided that her ridiculous journey has been Odyssean enough.

                                           K H I A R N A   K H A                                               ( @khi-tastrophe​ )

29 years old.

An incandescent ball of unquenchable rage, probably for valid reasons.

The daughter of the khan of a minor offshoot of the Kha tribe.

Had a twin sister named Khiela, who pretended to be kidnapped by an aggressive suitor and lead Khiarna on a wild goose chase across Eorzea in an attempt to find her.

Khiela and her lover conspired to and succeeded in murdering her father.

Khiarna returned to Othard and murdered the shit out of both of them in retaliation for killing her father.

She was then unanimously chosen as her father’s successor and currently reigns as khatun to the nomadic merchant tribe.

While traveling across Eorzea in search of her errant sister, Khi was involved in a relationship with a pathological liar, which has severely damaged her ability to trust people (on top of her family drama).

Currently in a relationship with Sidirahg of the Sixth ( @sidirahg​ ), who has the patience of a saint with her issues and also might be a masochist.

Khi is a shaman and uses a mix of conjury and pugilism in combat. 

She covers her fists and feet in a solid layer of rock and then lights them on fire, using a combination of speed, flexibility, and disorienting blows to fell her opponents.

                                    COMMON TAGS I USE

#alannah aesthetic - aesthetic tag.

#screenshots - tag for unedited screenshots of my characters.

#edits - tag for screenshot edits done by me.

#drabbles - tag for writing done by me.

#about alannah - tag for character profile memes, ask replies, relevant quotes.

#art of alannah - tag for art i’ve commissioned of Alannah.

#commissions - tag for art i’ve commissioned that also includes my other OCs.

#lanna things - tag for posts relevant to Alannah.

#9 - tag for posts related to Nine Outway.

#familial faultlines - tag for all of Alannah’s family issues.

#benedictions]&[bulletholes - ship tag for Alannah and Nine (contains screenshots, quotes, and aesthetic inspiration).

#the gravity of guilt - sub-B&B ship tag referencing events at the ruins of Nym.

#scars of nym - another B&B tag because I don’t have enough of them.

#otp: as one fool to another - ship tag for WoLannah and Ardbert

#AU: Warrior of Light - WoLannah tag.

#AU: Gloriana - tag for the AU in which Alannah goes power mad / angry at the world and misuses her magic to become an unstoppable force of destruction.

#AU: Dark Sunrise - tag for the AU in which Nine perma-dies and Alannah sells her soul to the darkness.

#keeper’s captain - ship tag for Brina and Jacke.

#boyfriend adjust - ship tag for Khi and Sid.

#tbd - tag for me yelling into the void that I pretend I’ll delete later.

                                             OTHER BLOGS

@eastofean - ffxiv aesthetic inspo blog for Ean Corvaine.

@aether-and-ash - ffxiv aesthetic inspo blog for Aislinn Outway.

@blacklacelullaby - ffxiv aesthetic inspo blog for Katja Iryut.

@cleric-stance - salty healer memes.

@sundownsanctuary - nsfw aesthetic inspo blog.

@lannahlearnsart - my hoard of digital art tutorials.

@halion​ - general World of Warcraft blog and inspo for my WoW OCs.

@veil-of-blades​ - ESO inspo blog for various Elder Scrolls OCs.

@theviciousnothing​ - my personal aesthetic blog.

                                           PARTING NOTES

You’ve done it, you’ve reached the end of this post. All of this is just a basic overview of me and my characters, if you ever have any questions about anything please feel free to drop me an ask or a DM any time. Thanks for following. ♥

#behind the blog #pinned post