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wolfinakut0 · 2 years

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CHAMPAGNE AND PAPARAZZI -

Marc Márquez

friends to lovers where you run into some shower problems and have to use Marc’s

3k words

warnings: NSFW, slight choking, terribly written smut, oral (m receiving), bad Spanish, dirty talk

You had known Marc for quite some time, the both of you really close friends, there was this unspoken bond you two had. You were each others partners in crime, going along with every stupid idea the other had and getting yourselves in trouble one time or the other.

Like that time the two of you were caught, instead of being at the mandatory press conference, “borrowing” the team scooters and conducting a very serious race on track, going a whopping 30 mph top speed down the straights.

Or the time the two of you snuck out of physical training for an early morning swim at the seaside in Qatar. Wherever the two of you’d be, there’d be trouble. And the media loved it. Not only because of the constant rumours that you two had something going on, which the both of you, unbeknownst to the other, secretly wished were true, but also because of the stupid things you two’d start.

There had obviously been some tension going on between the two of you neither could deny, stolen glances across the paddock, a bit of flirting during press events or lingering touches when no one was looking. But there wasn’t anything serious going on, although you were close neither of you would admit anything or make a move. Scared you might misinterpret anything or just think too much into it. However to the others it was painfully obvious, you both had been pining for each other but were too dense to notice.

Today that wasn’t really one of your concerns though, the race day in Jerez taking up all of your concentration. You weren’t in the GP just to fuck around and cause trouble, you were there to win. You were sure the only reason you didn’t get house arrest for your ridiculous PR stunts was because you were still giving results and the press went wild over it.

The heat was almost unbearable, you tried to keep your focus on what was ahead, winning in Jerez to get ahead in the championship. Your standings were already great, but being able to get ahead and build a bit of distance would cement your position. The race was an adrenaline filled endeavour, after the riders in Moto3 were penalised to take one long lap after the other, and the Moto2 couldn’t really keep their bikes on track either, it was obvious this race needed you to be on top of your game. Being in Motogp you and the others obviously still were way ahead skill wise and their results couldn’t compare to you guys’, however with how fast you’d lose grip with this heat on the tires you still had to be careful. Lap after lap the race went good, some people going down due to a loss of grip or some cocky overtake resulting in contact between two riders and thus a crash, but that didn’t really concern you, your pace was really good so far. You were way ahead, building more distance each time you passed the finish line - This time however you weren’t all alone, a tussle between the podium so to speak, Marc and Fabio close behind. While the other two were constantly battling for dominance, you stayed focused on your line. There was no margin for error, a small mistake could cost you your standing, but despite that you kept your cool, taking each corner as precise and close as possible, no mistakes, no track limits or cocky miscalculations. The race stayed exciting till the very second you guys crossed the checkered line. “Y/n P1, P1!!”

You felt euphoric, you did it, and now it would be time to celebrate. After taking your victory lap, standing on the pegs, your country's flag loosely tied around your shoulders, you went to take the podium. You went to celebrate with your team, them patting your helmet and whatever else they could reach as the other two rolled in beside you and got off their bikes too. You felt Marc's arms sneak around you in celebration, lifting you up so you sat on his shoulder, your hands up in the air.

Now you guys were quickly hurried to the podium, Marc coming in close second to you. Your fingers still tingling from the bike's vibrations, your whole body feeling as if you were on fire. You stepped on the balcony, watching as the third and second place took their podium, finally it was your turn to step up onto the podium, walking on stage, after the other two, as you made your way to the middle step, first place. You could barely contain your excitement, looking over the equally excited crowd beneath. You were beaming as your national anthem boomed through the speakers and you knew what was to come next. Along with the Spanish summer came this incredible heat and the champagne you were about to get was just the right solution to that. Glancing to you left and right you noticed the two next to you had the top part of their leathers hanging from their hips, Marc wearing his base layer underneath - what a shame. Still, you were finally allowed to celebrate with the champagne. You popped the cork and began spraying the other two, them covering you in champagne as well, with everyone now covered in it, hair dripping and all it was a nice cool sensation.

You took the comically large bottle up to your head and decided to take a nice sip, distracted, Marc however took the opportunity to get back at you for soaking him completely, swiftly pulling open the zipper of your leathers and draining his champagne inside, you now soaked to the bone. “You asshole!” You shout-laughed and tried pushing him off of his step.

After your little tussle on the podium all you wanted was to get out of your leathers and take a nice, relaxing shower. Back in your Motorhome you quickly peeled yourself out of the soaked leather, already feeling 10 pounds lighter and turned on your shower. However, much to your dismay, although there seemed to at least be some water coming out if it, it was ice cold and definitely not really fit to shower in - shit. What now? Getting to the hotel to shower wasn’t really an option so you had to think of something else.

In a panic you wrapped yourself in a towel and grabbed your phone, desperately trying to reach the one guy you'd ask to use his shower. After frantically texting him you stared at your screen, your heart pounding in your chest.

You couldn’t just quickly put on something, still sticky and wet from the champagne, standing there in just a towel and Marc wouldn’t answer. What now? You had seen Marc get into his trailer earlier so you were sure he must still be in there, maybe he had his phone on silent?

“Ah fuck it” You huffed, deciding to push your luck today, his traler wasn’t too far from yours so you were sure no one would see you sneaking over to hopefully be able to take a quick shower there. Since it also wasn’t the first time you'd have snuck out you were fairly certain this would go well. Just wearing your tower you peeked outside, no one around, the coast clear, you snuck out and hurriedly rushed to his trailer, banging on his door frantically. “Marc, open up, It’s kinda urgent!”

You felt really stupid right now, standing in front of Marc’s trailer, half naked and not even sure he was actually there. But just as you were about to make the sprint back to yours, not sure what you’d do next, the door creaked open just a bit as Marc pushed his head out. His hair still wet, the dark curls sticking to his forehead as his expression changed from a worried one to an amused one, a slight red tint dusting his cheeks. “What even…?” Quickly he grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside to shut the door behind you. Now you realise why he didn’t answer. Marc was wearing about as little as you, a towel loosely wrapped around his hip and him dripping wet, did he just shower? Upon further investigation you noticed some foam still in his hair, did you interrupt his shower? “Why, for fucks sake, did you come to my trailer half naked in broad daylight? Did something happen? And did anyone see you?” He had this soft grin on his face, the one you grew to love so dearly.

Although it wasn’t the first time you’d seen him in this little clothing you still hadn’t gotten used to it. Realizing you burst into his trailer half naked, him also not really wearing anything you noticed the implications of this moment and in an embarrassed fashion you quickly covered your eyes with your hands, behaving like a teenager while your cheeks heated up, your face feeling on fire. After a moment you finally managed to speak, “I uh… my shower’s not working and uh… I was hoping I could use yours…?” Marc chuckled a bit, unholy thoughts entering his mind.

“Well I wasn’t quite done showering yet, but…” He inched closer to you, your back almost against his door as he slowly took your wrists to uncover your eyes. You stared up at him, his eyes dark with lust as he glanced at your lips, he was feeling especially bold after taking the podium next to you today. You looked up at him innocently, biting at your lower lip as Marc continued, “If you wouldn’t mind, you could join me? After all,” Your eyes never leaving him as he moved his head next to your ear, his breath tickling your skin. “I am the one responsible for soaking you like this, getting you all wet.” You were totally caught off guard, this being exactly what you had fantasised about so many nights.

As soon as Marc let go of your wrists your hands found themselves within his curls, his lips connecting with your neck you let out a soft moan. He began sucking and softly biting at your sweet spot, no doubt leaving a hickey in the process. “Mhh… You still taste of champagne.”

The Honda rider went to cup your cheek, pouring his eyes into yours as your hands began trailing down his toned body, touching the hem of his towel while the other stayed resting against his chest. His calloused hand leaving goosebumps as he slips one behind your neck and pulls you into a passionate kiss. A soft whimper leaving your lips as you hungrily kiss him back. You could feel his length pushing up against the towel as you made quick work of the tuck holding it onto his hips. Surprised by his size as it sprung flush against his abdomen, anticipating what's to come.

In the heat of passion your towel found its way to the floor as well as you were stumbling towards his bathroom, the shower still running. He made sure to never let his hands leave your skin, intoxicated by the feeling underneath his fingertips. Breaking free to catch some air your eyes lingered on him, his scarred skin still covered in some water droplets.

“After you” Marc spoke huskily, motioning you to step into the shower before him, to which you happily obliged. The moment you felt the water hit your skin felt like electricity running through your body, the smell of his body wash and champagne filling the room. Following suit he spared no time in pressing you against the wall, his hand resting next to your head as you made out again.

Marc's hand slowly trailed down your soft skin, enjoying every curve and imperfection as his fingers tenderly slid between your folds, earning a high pitched moan. You sounded even better than he imagined, a cocky grin playing on his lips. Marc slowly pushed one of his digits inside, earning another breathy moan, it drove him wild. Quickly Marc began moving his finger in and out, curling it to hit that one particular spot that made you clench around him. Soon he added another finger and sped up his movements, drawing you closer to your high.

Your nails buried themselves deep within his back, leaving red trails and a painfully pleasurable sensation. You felt your knees grow weak as your heavy legs twitch beneath you. Marc's other hand slowly gained a rough grip on your hip, keeping you from losing balance and leaving yet another mark on you. His big hands fit nicely against your small frame, his long slender fingers burning themselves into your skin.

The moment his thumb started drawing rough circles on your clit tipped you over the edge, throwing your head back in ecstasy and arching your back off the wall you came all over his fingers, riding out your high as his hand never eases the movement. His name leaving your lips again and again, desperate for him.

“Good girl” Marc grumbles against your skin, sending butterflies to your stomach. In contrast to the constant teasing between you two his praise made you feel like jelly.

Catching your breath again your eyes raked over his figure, water running down his chest with his wet stands hanging low in his face, a side of him you only dared dreaming of.

Drinking in the site your eyes began to wander downwards, beginning to sink to your knees with your hands trailing along his hip, steadying yourself with your hand against his prominent v-line. Eager to please you glance up at him, shooting him another innocent look.

A low groan left his lips as his hand tangled itself in your hair, guiding your already hungrily parted lips to his cock. In a slow fashion you proceeded to run your tongue over his head, getting to finally taste his cock earning a low moan. The bass in his voice going straight to your core. Swirling your tongue around his tip you teased him a bit.

Before you knew it, Marc uses the hand he has on your head to push his length inside your mouth fully, his patience for having you growing thin. A bit caught off guard you moan against him and push your thighs together in response to which the Spaniard threw back his head, one hand covering his face in pleasure.

You began bobbing your head in a steady manner, getting off of the pleasure you gave him. Much to your surprise you felt his grip on your hair loosen as you felt a cool sensation on your head. You stopped mid stroke, mouth still full of him, and glanced up, humming in question against him.

“I thought you came here to shower?” There it was again, that grin of his, as he held a bottle of shampoo in his hand. You chuckled lightly against his cock and resumed pleasuring him, feeling him wash your still somewhat campaign covered hair for you.

Although he began roughly thrusting his hips against you, essentially facefucking you, his hands on your head were very tender, holding you still while washing your head. You could feel him twitch in your mouth, guessing his climax must be close just as he pulled out and quickly moved you up to your feet, once again pushing you against the wall, his chest flush against yours.

His lips hungrily crash into yours as he takes ahold of your thigh and rested it against his waist, keeping your leg in a tight grip as he carefully slid his length into you. Resting your head on his shoulder, you bit down harshly in pleasure, hoping to be able to suppress your loud moans of his name.

“I want to hear your beautiful moans, mi amor” The sound of his voice alone drove you crazy. Marc kept a steady pace, his stamina as an athlete really coming in clutch.

“Estás haciendo tan buena para mi” (You are doing so good for me) You didn’t really know any spanish but something about him talking to you like that. “córrete para mí, princesa” (cum for me princess), Marc huskily growled, thrusting deeper as he rose your one leg a bit higher, bottoming out inside you.

Having no idea what he just said to you, you were in a haze, drunk on his body and the power he held over you, you didn’t care, his voice doing things to you he’d never imagined. As Marc's hand moved from next to your head to your throat you couldn’t hold yourself anymore. “Good girl, y/n” Repeatedly moaning his name as you clenched around him you came again, him still hitting that spot repeatedly as you rode out your orgasm, seeing stars.

Having you clench around him and whimper your name like that had him tip over the edge as well, cumming still buried inside you.

Both of you still out of breath and you slightly dizzy from everything that just happened found yourselves in a passionate, but his time more loving kiss. “You have no idea how long I've wanted this, wanted you…” You confessed, voice barely above a whisper against Marc's lips. “Mi amor, I’ve wanted you since I first laid eyes upon you.”

You shared a tender make out while washing each other with Marc's shower gel, leaving you smelling almost exactly like him and actually getting cleaned up like you originally planned before all this happened.

After grabbing some of Marc’s clothes, as you kind of forgot taking anything with you as you rushed over to his trailer in a panic you went to get some stuff from your trailer and gotten back to Marc to spend the night.

In the morning there was a small surprise waiting for the two of you. Originally just wanting to check your schedule for the day you saw your phone filled with messages, opening the you had gotten from your media manager first - in it was an article roughly stating what happened yesterday, as in some sneaky paparazzi shots of you standing in front of Marcs trailer in just a towel, him pulling you in dressed in about as little clothing and some of you, covered in hickeys wearing his clothes leaving his motorhome.

A/N: Second one since idk how long, kinda bad but idc. Hope you guys still like it :) Might make a second part, idk maybe fluff or angst idk - lmk if you’d like that

leave some feedback or ideas you have and enjoy

Also Marc is my fav so yeah 🥵

#motogp oneshot #motogp imagine #motogp x reader #motogp #smut #marc marquez #marc marquez smut #marc marquez x reader

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littleladymab · 2 months

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Still Waiting Duology (a wip intro for @moon-and-seraph's WORDS INTO POTIONS March event)

Genre: Fantasy (low fantasy, magic and second world, but only humans) Summary: After graduating from the country's most prestigious magical academy with no real interest in signing up for a tour of "border patrol", Cateryn drags her best friend and duel partner Jigar to tour the country with her -- hoping that maybe her restlessness will finally settle. She has no home to return to, and no idea of what a future is supposed to look like. When one year threatens to become two, they finally stumble upon three people whose struggles resonate with Cateryn's: Raif, who lost their father, their wife, and their future to one torrential storm and decided to leave home to save their mother the trouble of an heir who couldn't uphold the family name; Kira, a seer whose powers resulted in xir becoming a political prisoner when xir home was invaded; and Arris, Kira's husband who was helpless to save his employer and suffered at the hands of the occupying force before he could get himself and his spouse to freedom.

For the first time in a long time, Cateryn finds herself wanting to stay in one place and to open up to the people around her, even though Jigar thinks they should keep moving on. Because the two of them are destined for great things, he likes to say, but she knows what is best, and he's content to stay with her. Except for the past has a way of catching up with everyone, and they all find themselves dragged into political responsibilities as the neighboring country is getting agitated with an increasing number of border disputes, and rumors of something more than the usual bandits roaming the south.

And when Cateryn's past involvements with her father's spirit magic come back to haunt her, she has to decide if she wants to accept that part of her, or reject it and everything that comes with it before its too late. Etc: writing tag || pin board

My goal this month is to finish the outline for at least book 1 if not both books, and to GIVE IT A PROPER TITLE. And, between this and SD, hopefully write 4 chapters/about 10k.

Main Cast

Cateryn Caddis-Dowell (she/her); between 24/28; skilled at offensive/battle magic || playlist

Raif Van to Yuen-ha (they/he); between 28/32; dishonored heir to the Yuen-ha family; mediocre alchemist || playlist

Jigar Soru (he/him); between 26/30; skilled at defensive magic; "self-taught" spirit mage || playlist

Kira Dittmar (xe/xir); between 23/27; diviner/seer who would like to be retired || playlist

Arris Dittmar (he/him); between 29/33; sword for hire, just happy to be here! (he doesn't have a playlist yet I'm sorry)

Snippet

Raif didn’t even bother trying not to look miserable. If their mother wanted to make a spectacle out of their humiliation, then she’d have to do it with a sulking heir.

“Which part of this is the worst?” Cateryn asks, startling them out of their reverie.

“Pardon?” they ask in return, straightening their posture just a bit now that they’re the center of someone’s attention.

She gestures to the ballroom. “It’s the taffeta, personally. I am sweating like it isn’t the dead of winter in the north, and everyone can hear me from a mile away.” She says it low, conspiratorially, and they can’t help but laugh. “Ah, there it is.”

“The key to the taffeta’s undoing?” they whisper back, reaching out to ruffle her skirt. It whish whish whishes loudly beneath their touch.

“No, your smile.”

They snort into their wine glass. “Please, Cateryn, you don’t need to skulk about with me because you feel sorry for me.” It’s hard to keep the bitterness from their voice as they mirror her gesture towards the room. “My mother isn’t trying to humiliate you.”

They don’t mention how they noticed the way Aiden had been doting on her all evening despite this being a party for him.

“Is it wrong of me to want to keep you company?” she asks innocently. “You know, better yet, want to get out of here?”

Raif pauses with the wine glass against their lips. Leave the party early? Without saying hello, yes, I’m well thank you, yes I miss Linna and my father terribly but I’m sure Aiden will do a splendid job where I’ve failed as a child, but at least I don’t have to be my mother’s son anymore — Aiden can do that, to every one of Uyen’s friends?

The thought sends a frisson of rebellious delight through them, and they pass their half-finished glass to a nearby server. “More than anything,” they say, and Cateryn answers with a grin.

She takes their hand — in front of their mother, the family gods, and everyone — and tugs them towards the exit on the far side of the ballroom.

Uyen doesn’t call after them, but Raif can feel her disdain follow them into the hall.

#ms: wip intro #m+s: wip #still waiting #a lil miss original #lil miss writings #p much all the more recent stuff for this has been on patreon #so nothing really to see in the tag #I've committed too much to Raif's mom being named Uyen despite how i hate that it's Uyen Yuen

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historicalsimslife · 2 years

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Life for the Wright’s soon settled into a natural routine. William woke up early every morning to catch fish on the shore which he then sold at the market before coming home to his woodworking, while Caroline spent the day cleaning, cooking and gardening. In the evenings they finally joined together for a meal before falling into bed early and exhausted. The money was also tight and could not be spared for anything other than food, bills and tools for the farm. Still every day they spent happily as they were together and fully in charge of their own livelihoods.

Stage 1 Rules:

General rules:

Only male sims are the heirs

No wohooing between two sims, only select “try for a baby”

Female sims must move away from home only with their wedded husbands or common-law husbands (not unusual at the time)

the woman can take a dowry with her. The size depends on how much money the family has. For example it may be calculated by taking 5 percent of the funds.

Professions

The family must support itself by gardening,farming/fishing etc.

No career for men

allowed to earn money by gardening, animal farming, fishing, inventing, collecting etc.

No career for women sims

allowed to earn money by animal farming, gardening or collecting (due to the lack of education for poor women this means no writing or music etc.)

Hobbies:

Has to be suitable to the sim’s gender and also the time period

Men: nature, tinkering, sports, music, science

Women: painting, collecting, cooking, embroidery

Goals max. 100 points (some have been borrowed from the history challenge):

Have both of your sims reach level 10 in one of the following category: fishing, gardening, herbalism, cooking, knitting, cross-stiching, the category can be different for both sims - 20 points

Arrange a party to celebrate the war victory after the war ends - 5 points

Have no family member die of anything other than Old Age – 30 points

Earn 20 000 simoleons from selling rocks, fossils, frogs and/or woodwork - 20 points

Catch an Anglerfish worth at least 1500 simoleons - 15 points

Have both your sims create in total 20 unique items with their hobbies such as woodworking, herb making, cross stiching, painting etc. - 10 points

Chaos factors:

The revolutionary war of 1775-1783.

During the 1st stage your male sim must leave to fight in the war and the wife will have to stay at home.

He has to be away from the lot for a 10 days and he may come and visit only once for 12 hours.

Once he returns home you have to change his personality (with cheats) by replacing one of the previous one with either gloomy or erratic (due to ptsd from war).

As soldiers earned money from their service, by using the Money X- cheat you can give your family 1000 simoleons once your sim returns

If you want to play a higher risk game, you can roll a dice to see if your sim will die in battle (if the number is 3 the sim dies)

In the case he dies and there is not yet a male heir in the family, your heir’s daughter’s future husband will become the heir and their eldest child after him.

Or if there are no children, the widow must remarry and her new husband will become the new patriarch of the family and their children will become heirs.

High infant death rate

With a high infant death rate, roll a dice once for every sim at some point in their childhood. If the number is either 2 or 4, the sim dies (a mod is needed for this).

Death in childbirth

Death in childbirth was common as well. Once the baby is born roll the dice and with the number is 2 the mother has to die (by using cheats)

With hard manual labor there is a high risk of work-related accidents.

Roll a dice for both of your adult sims and the result is how many “sick days” you have to give to your sims before they can work again. For example if the result is 4, the sim must not do anything besides cooking and light household chores for 4 days. So this means you cannot earn money during that time.

#sims #the sims #sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 challenge #historical #challenge #18thcentury #historicalsimslife #sims challenge #history #frtm #from the revolution to the moon

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battle-of-alberta · 7 months

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Battle of Alberta 2023 Survey Results

It's that time again. Previous surveys can be found here for 2022, 2021 and 2020 for your reference.

We had 18 respondents to the survey. The average BoAB reader is female, around 24-25, and Canadian. Over half of respondents identified as Albertan, which is again increased from last year. Of those that have lived in Alberta, most of you have lived in Calgary followed by Edmonton, Lethbridge and Banff.

Read on for some graphs, notes, and responses...

Demographics

Much bigger proportion of men this year than last, howdy fellas! :)

I'm always meaning to extend the ages out a bit more than I have been, there's a very slight increase this year just based on averages from years previous. Curiously enough there is a very even split between those in the 19-30 rage this year that I don't typically see. As possible, it could just be that some of you are aging and reaching a new category.

A smaller category for international folks and a bigger category of North Americans than previously - I'm always worried whether I should focus more on making this blog more accessible to non-Canadians and I feel that I've been failing on that a lot, for which I apologize. Thanks for your patience!

The Albertan category continues to grow this year, and it's also worth noting that the "Never heard of it" category has disappeared this year. Well, I suppose those who hadn't last year have heard of it now? I hope. : );

Calgary has finally surpassed Edmonton in this ranking, which I suppose was only a matter of time as it is the more populous city. Can't believe all the Lethbians are moving to Calgary jk.

We have some more variation on travel this year as well, a couple of you cited Drumheller specifically and I believe one person mentioned Slave Lake as well. Naturally, the big cities and mountain parks are in the lead. And tsk tsk, no the Calgary airport doesn't count (though it is certainly Calgary flavoured in my recollection) :^)

Blog

Little change in the proportions here, just less of you admitting you know me which is fine :^)

Lots of shifting here with art steadily at the top. There's been a drop off in politics and stereotypes and a rise in not being alone in Hellberta, which I imagine might have been somewhat related to wanting to forget the election this year.

One of you mentioned not remembering following the blog - this might have been my error because I did reblog the survey to my other blogs since I'm in the habit of doing so. It's entirely possible you coincidentally followed one of my other blogs for something else but ended up inundated with the content on this blog anyway, since I tend to self-reblog quite liberally.

Illustrations beat out Asks for top spot this year, current events taking another hit. I'm glad you guys enjoyed Jasper's introduction and my travels so much! Someone also mentioned the timeline which was very kind, the only reason it wasn't on the survey was because I had already published the survey before the timeline!

I also realized for the second year in a row I don't really have a name for what one respondent described as "local flavour" posts that are directly inspired from my travels and day to day, and thus I don't exactly have a tag for it to make it easily findable. I will consider whether it needs a name and if I have a good one.

I also screwed up slightly and listed the Bison ask as the only one of its category rather than introducing "Parks Pass" as its own category, so this is something I'm going to reflect on for future surveys as well.

Historical events plummeted from the top spot this year in favour of gag comics, and again I definitely get the need for more lighthearted stuff as all these compounding crises are weighing on us. I feel like that's definitely a direction I've already been leaning in, even with those things that do relate to current or historical events.

(but yeah, I am still thinking about the otome game even though the pace is slower than molasses right now)

For other: there's still some interest in Special Powers and Cloud Minding there, so I will definitely consider how to continue them if possible even if it's not on the horizon right away.

This was a new question this year to replace "Projects". While I'm a little sad at the high number of you guys who use mobile only, I understand. I just feel frustrated because I learned how to make webcomics before mobile was a thing, and I still struggle with proportioning my comics for scrolling and legibility and I'm constantly worried that I'm doing something wrong (so of course I am always scrolling my own blog on my phone and nitpicking).

The other issue is that some pages of the blog including the vision, FAQ, etc. are inaccessible to android users (like myself) which is also annoying. But it's the way of the world and I can't fault anyone for it, I can just do my best to be aware of it and try to learn and make decisions accordingly.

Characters

Calvin stayed steady in the lead with the same number of votes, but I'm shocked and amazed to see Red making such gains this year! The rest of the votes were a little more egalitarian than last year, although sacrifices were made (poor Eleanor!)

I also want to note that there's no direct correlation between living in Calgary and voting for Calvin, interestingly enough.

Jasper's first year of life has left you all thirsty for more, I see. But uh, I really dug my own grave with Sherwood Park as my joke answer, hey...? I guess you will have to meet Marion soon enough (which means I have to actually picture what she looks like and put that on paper instead of just drawing the Eye of Sauron)

Eleanor, the Paranormal Squad and the Nyo! characters are climbing up this year as well.

Someone actually suggested other towns such as Vegreville, which made me chuckle a little. As I've said previously, my goal is not to create as many characters as possible but to focus on developing the ones I have in front of me, and I'm not interested in personifying any more small towns at this time. That said if I had to pick a design for Vegreville...

why not this guy? :^)

I'm not picky though, they could be a lady too.

lol.

The magpies won this year, hooray! I will put out some extra peanuts for them from you guys.

Comments

Now to address some of the comments...

Let's start with the recommendations! Thank you so much for your suggestions, I hope you don't mind me sharing so we can all take advantage. They're all new to me, so I'd like to check them out as soon as I'm able :)

In terms of artists, I'll put in a recommendation for Amelie Patterson! She's an alt-pop singer/songwriter from Banff. I don't know if she fits the "vibe" of Eleanor necessarily, but she definitely has some good songs! I assume you're probably aware of the documentarian Dan Olson (https://youtube.com/@FoldingIdeas) but if not, he's made an eclectic mix of video essays with rather good quality behind them! :D visit Chunk'd in Calgary (it's in Kensington), they sell kinda expensive but absolutely life-changing cookies Have you ever visited Fort McMurray?

To answer this last one directly, no, not yet: I'm waiting a bit on that one because apart from Northern Alberta being constantly on fire during travel season lately, we are hoping for some progress on Highway 686 between Fort Mac and GP to make the Northern Alberta trip a little easier. Also hoping to save up some money so pals from up north can show me around a bit too :)

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The lack of an Unknown-N/A mark for opinion makes it less welcoming. I was shared a link to your blog, and yet, I didn't see an easy to read pinned "What to Expect / About… et cetera" so I don't know if I want to follow or block - that's much more in depth.

I'm going to be real with you, though I have no idea if you have any intention of reading my response or not or if you have already moved on, this response is somewhat unprecedented for me and I would be lying if I said it didn't keep me awake at night for a bit.

I'll set aside my bruised ego for a moment just to thank you for making me aware of some of my own blind spots and assumptions. Though it is not explicit and in fact I might have even been unintentionally misleading when I advertised this survey, I assume a certain level of familiarity with or at least curiosity about my work for survey respondents. However, there is no requirement to fill it out, regardless of whether you can answer the questions or not. It never occurred to me for this to be intended as a 'welcome' survey for visitors or potential readers, but more of a year in review.

I can't make any comment on who sent you my blog or why, but I do feel somewhat on the defensive from your response. Not only do I have a pinned post that links to more in depth about pages, but one of my main projects this year was to revamp it to be more accessible and easy to read than previously, so I can't help but feel a little stung that either it was not findable or not easy to read for you.

I'm not in the habit of self-marketing to complete strangers and I've racked my brains trying to come up with an alternative explanation for this amorphous thing that I've been building these past few years, but the choice between "follow or block" rather than "follow or leave" sounds to me like something I cannot resolve in my response beyond the following, and I apologize if this comes across as rude:

If you're not into weird drawings of anime twinks with varying levels of homoerotic tension that just happen to represent personifications of cities in this weird, beautiful, frustrating province and my own evolving understandings of them as both characters and as places, maybe this blog isn't for you. It's one part idealised vision, one part shenanigans, and one part coping mechanism. Maybe someone else could describe it better from the outside (lord knows as an ask blog, a great deal of the blog is somewhat dependent on reader contributions).

If you're looking for a bumper sticker that would encapsulate enough of my political views to decide whether to block me, you'd have to drive pretty close to read the paragraph starting with "well i absolutely voted for notley because i'm willing to settle for what amounts to a centre right pro-pipeline party if it means a snowball's chance in hell of avoiding certain death from the bigots and conspiracy theorists continuing to flock to what passes for the conservatives these days... etc etc", well, there it is and certainly there is a queer, satirical bent to political views espoused on this blog, though I try to think of it as a "break from the bullshit" because otherwise I wouldn't get out of bed let alone pick up my pen.

I can't provide much more than this in terms of "what to expect" because, as the survey indicates, the blog is always changing according to my time, energy, and mindset and who the heckaroonie i think I'm speaking to at any given time. If you stuck around long enough to read this, thanks.

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the parliament of magpies would have won if they'd ACTUALLY BEEN THERE.

I try to keep results as anonymous as possible but Maybe If You Came Over at a Different Time that isn't Balding Season they wouldn't be so shy! :)

you're good

Let's end on this one, thank you :) and thank you all for responding this year, I hope things can look up for us a little in the new year despite all the political bullshit, the cost of living and the goddamn constant fires. I learned a lot this year and was able to travel a lot too, and I hope I can continue drawing inspiration from this silly project for a while yet.

See you, Space Cowboys.

#boab survey #boab announcement #boab meta #thank you all for taking some time to fill this out #it gave me a lot to think about

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pretty-prince-lulu · 7 months

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I I mister beaned it pretty hard tonight, internet and I feel the need to inflict the experience upon the world at large

be me (honestly I could fucken end it here) walking down the hallway toward the domain of the porcelain throne when out of the corner of my eye I see it

it has been years, actual years now, since I have done true battle yet my nemesis stands before me- rather, scuttles above me, on the ceiling, taunting me with his plumpness a cockroach. my first true enemy in life, really this being the first house I have ever lived in without nests in the foundations or a frame consisting 80% of wood rot meant that I had sadly grown fat on my own complacency and taking peace for granted but I am Ready. I can face this foe

old reliable is at the ready. a 15 year old can of pea-beu! it's an Australian brand of bug spray. 'Hit 'em with the ol' Pea-Beu!' croons the ad! it's pronounced 'pee bow', which is still hilarious to me I psshk him with great noble bearing by which I mean 'from around a corner and at as great a distance as I could physically achieve' and wait for him to drop I wait I wait did I actually get him or I must have? that or he's just ambling down of his own volition either way

KATCHONK the can is placed atop him! he is CONTAINED! now all I must do is wait! so I wait and I wait surely he'sNOPE JESUS MARY MOTHER OF SHIT antennae and legs swing at me from under the can with incredible malice and singular will the can goes back down. and I wait

and at this point I remember! there is one thing that I have never seen pea-beu do that is- fuck, what's the word I'll have it around here somewhere oh yes WORK legs still scrabble in effort to escape I am less and less convinced that he has peed his last bow and more convinced that the next bow to be peed shall be mine

fuck FUCK okay well raising the can is out of the fucking question he's seen me now, he knows my scent and is very clearly out for revenge (probably in the form of running up my leg until I pee my bow) there's a technique I use all the time to rescue crickets from the bathroom though! and this is more of a Special Military Operation (tm) than a rescue but desperate times call for desperate measures and lateral moves so I do it I grab the nearest piece of paper and sliiiide it under the can if I can contain the creature I can have it airlifted to a location that is not my hallway

but I've just made a critical error its on paper now and paper, when confronted with 6 legs of undeniable fury, makes a sound and that sound does something magical that magical thing being compelling our hapless protagonist 30 years backward in time

she's addicted to reading! that's what her parents tell her teachers! we just can't get her to put the books down at night and sleep! ha ha ha! and she does love her books, that little girl but something more sinister is at play when the lights go out is when they awaken by the tens and by the hundreds skinny little barbed legs and long hairlike antennae but they can tell when you're still awake, you know that's when they run around in circles beneath the wallpaper and under the posters that's when they climb over the bedhead and wait sitting in the palm of your hand until you realise that's when you think the breeze is shifting the hair at your temple but the wind is prickly this evening and your eyelashes are only beyond their reach if little blue eyes stay open until dawn but no depth of story can drown out the sound of legs and wings caressing paper

SNAP BACK TO REALITY whoops there goes gravity right bug. can. paper big regretti… mom's spaghetti eminem can't help me now oh god oh no the noise has drawn attention player 3 and player 4 have entered the game

my cats precious fat idiots no hunting instincts between them, frankly the kitten has never hunted anything in his life and the last time the big boy encountered an Animal (tm) it resulted in him screaming, actually s c r e a m i n g and I had to pick him up and rescue him from the VERY scary cricket that had cornered him (the assailant was released outside) but they are interested in THE NOISE and the mystery and if they knock over this fucken can I know it's game over for me I'm still in full on vietnam flashback mode fortunate son is on full blast in my head I cannot handle a prison break

I drive them away the only way I can think of by using the only thing that's as scary to them as a cricket a psshk from a can of compressed keyboard-cleaning air nyoom disaster averted, or at least that specific flavour of disaster of course, the problem remains I cannot pick up the fucking paper. please understand. it's all that stands between me and my nightmares fortunate son is still playing but by now it's on kazoo I deepen my hole of shame a little further and attempt to s l i d e a plastic lid beneath the paper.

now I have it in my hands, a teetering, tenuous tower of can, beast, tupperware lid and a phone bill with a destination to decide what? empty it in a bin? so he can swing over the edge of the paper like lara fucking croft and hoik himself into my open mouth? or run up my sleeve into my hair? as has happened before? no thank you, you little shit, you probably submliminally suggested that yourself didn't you b u g but I can't just. squish it that also risks CONTAINMENT BREACH letting it onto the floor risks my cats eating it (and potentially peeing their bow in 12-19 business years I guess) and so, I compromise

I run outside out the front door. at this point I feel like it is important to note my outfit I am wearing a whole-body lamb costume that I have been using as pyjamas they are very wooly and floor length and have a little silk ribbony bow at the neck, as-yet unpeed

and god knows what the neighbours must think seeing this shrieking lamb kool-aid man out of her house shedding phone bills and pesticide containers and frisbee a tupperware lid across the road like it is made of fire before doing the Universal Dance of Absolute Crawling Horror, complete with arm-flailing and knee-to-chest high-steppy in circles

anyway I lived and I've been told off for sadly humming 'fortunate son' to myself 7 times. some folks are born made to wear the flag :')

#dramatic retelling #I showered immediately #bug tw

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infinite-tome-of-knowledge · 16 days

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Cadaverous Rake

The Cadaverous Rake is another one of the standout enemies from the Book of the Dead. They offer a large amount of roleplaying potential and have a combat kit suited for most scenarios, making them a lot of fun to GM. At their core, the Rake is essentially an undead variant of a Swashbuckler. They die in a duel, but rise from the grave to continue their legend. The lore sidebar mentions that they have been known to declare people as rivals, demanding a rematch and harming those who could kill the rival before the Rake can. I would highly recommend spending some time to develop this rival relationship. Let the PCs kill the still-living Rake in a duel, and have it come back several sessions later angrily demanding a rematch against its killer. If the Rake can manage to escape death during that match, it could become the sort of recurring antagonist discussed in the sidebar.

The Rake has plenty of options for dueling foes. The most important ability is Parry Dance, a single action where the Rake Strikes, then Steps. Using Parry Dance also increases the Rake’s AC by 2. I see absolutely no reason for the Rake to not be using this constantly. Any AC bonus is great, and since the Strike is followed by a Step the Rake can deal damage before moving away. This creates a gap where melee PCs must waste an action moving closer to the Rake. If ranged targets are proving to be a nuisance, the Rake can spend an action to use Shadow Rapier, increasing the reach of their Strikes to 30 ft and swapping all the damage to void/negative for that turn. They can then Strike back line characters, and since Shadow Rapier only buffs the Strikes it can be combined with Parry Dance.

The Rake’s other two abilities are dependent on critical successes or failures. As a result, they’ll be much more swingy and are harder to plan around. The Upper Hand is a one action ability, requiring the previous action to have been a critical success Strike. When used, the Rake Disarms them as if it had critically succeeded. This ability is interesting, and I’d suggest getting a sense of how the table is feeling before using it. If the Rake is being annihilated, then it can be a fun way to turn the tables. If the players are struggling, it compounds an already bad situation. Repartee Riposte is similar. As a reaction when a creature within the Rake’s reach critically fails a melee Strike, the Rake can attempt a Strike against it. On a success, the creature becomes frightened 1, or frightened 2 on a crit. Once again, this ability is fun but has the potential to make a player who did poorly do even worse on future rounds. Something to note is that Shadow Rapier only lasts until the end of the Rake’s turn, which prevents the Rake from benefiting from the reach bonus to extend the range of Repartee Riposte.

The Rake has a variety of skills, giving ample opportunities for a useful third action. They can use Deception to Feint, which is very in character for a swashbuckling duelist. They can also use Intimidation to Demoralize in order to increase chances of using either The Upper Hand or Repartee Riposte. They have a high bonus to Disarm attempts, but since it has the Attack trait it limits the effectiveness of Parry Dance. The Rake also has a fairly high Intelligence, and so if they start running low on HP they’ll make use of any means possible to exit the battle. They’ve already died in one duel: there’s no rush to die again.

In my opinion, the Rake is best run as a solo Moderate encounter. This way, a duel can occur, but they’re unlikely to constantly benefit from either of their critical-based abilities to the point where play becomes frustrating. One last thing to consider is how the Rake makes their entry. There’s a lot of room to play with black comedy when it comes to this creature. One way to make it far more memorable is to parody classic swashbucklers with a twist. For instance, when it first begins a duel it might swing a rope into a wall (the Rake, of course, meant to do that) or jump down heroically from a building (resulting in several cracked bones that don’t bother the Rake). Playing with these tropes also opens up new encounter ideas, such as giving the Rake a smaller sword-wielding undead as a sidekick.

#pathfinder #pathfinder 2e #long post #monster #rpg #DM #dungeon master #game master #monster tactics #ttrpg

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 1 month

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Have I admitted on this blog yet that I was deeply obsessed with Survivor for about a decade and a half? It's the only reality show I've ever watched (or had the desire to watch), but I really watched it. I got so into it, I used to read all the Survivor blogs before social media existed. It started airing when I was nine years old and I watched the first season with my parents, I think I initially got into it because I spent all my time trying to understand the complex unspoken battle that was the social system at school, one I knew just enough about to know I was the worst one in my whole school at it and that's why I was the only one with no friends, and I enjoyed watching adults play out a similar concept in a way that had slightly more clearly defined rules, and crucially did not have consequences for my personal life, so I could try to study that as some outside example in my quest to understand how people worked. Also my grandmother, who was a psychologist for thirty years, was really into Survivor so we started calling each other after every episode to talk for two hours, and we became very close as a result of that, we'd get into all the psychological reasons why things happened on Survivor and then we'd just start talking about psychology in general and that is a huge part of why I went on to get a psych degree at university, and like I said I had no friends before high school so being close friends with my grandmother was a big deal. I ended up continuing to follow Survivor even after my grandmother died when I was 16, I kept it up until my mid-twenties, around season 30. Haven't followed it in several years now, though the other day I saw my mom watching and was pleased to see they've reached season 46. Good for them. I hope they get to 50.

Anyway, I remember Parvati. I definitely remember Parvati. Her first season was in 2006, the last season that aired before my grandmother died, when she was sick but still watching. It was also the first season that aired after I started to really properly work out I was (mostly) gay, after a long succession of female contestants that I cheered for between the ages of 10-16 because I just really really liked them for reasons I couldn't quite articulate at the time. Parvati was one of the first few that I could recognize at the time I liked because she was an attractive person walking around in bathing suits, though I did not say so to my grandmother. I never came out to her before she died, but she did give me a Melissa Etheridge CD for my fifteenth birthday, after several years of listening to me always pick one or two very attractive women from each Survivor season to really really like for unexplained reasons, so I'm pretty sure she knew.

All right, is that enough to justify this? I have now tied this into my lack of friends/fear of social situations as a child, my close bond with my late grandmother, my chosen field of study and related career path, and figuring out my stigmatized sexual orientation. All of which is entirely true and Survivor really did play a part in those things, but also, I have specifically chosen to tell those parts of the story in the hopes that tying it to enough subjects with emotional depth will help justify admitting to having spent many years being really really into a reality television show. And am now reporting on reality TV-based celebrity relationship gossip.

All right, I think I've done enough of that. Parvati Shallow was a contestant on several seasons of reality TV (she first played when I was 16, then came back for several more seasons across a bunch of years), I watched those seasons when I was a teenager and in my twenties, she was really hot, Mae Martin is also hot, those two even being in a room together feels like an insane crossover episode of my extremely different interests that I have trouble believing technically exist in the same universe, but damn, good for them. Good for both of them. I hope they're having a good time. Parvati was definitely not (openly) queer when she was on Survivor, but I'm not sure heterosexuality can survive the lure of Mae Martin. Sorry for engaging in both objectification and reality TV-based celebrity relationship gossip, I'll go back to being respectable tomorrow.

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maytheoddshq · 6 months

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Bramble Berrybush. District Eleven. Score: TEN.

tw: burns, self harm, blood

“Bramble Berrybush. District Eleven. Today, I’ll be demonstrating how hard I’m going to make it to kill my ass.”

That seemed like a strong start, stronger than she’d felt in the holding area. There they were, the four of them – Nettle, Bramble, Mercuria, Slate – left at the end. An alliance, three-fourths filled in on the plan. And funny, wasn’t it? How of the bunch, the one they were protecting was the most eager to give the fuck up? Nettle had been adamant that they try for decent scores. That’s how we eat, she’d said, and Bramble had glowered, not unfamiliar with the sensation of hunger. It sucked. She thought she was done starving in this life.

Nettle was planning on showing off her archery skills. Slate looked like he was going to flip them off. Mercuria just looked scared, but, well, she always did. It was just her aura. Bram had made her stance clear, staring up at the Gamemakers, eyes flicking to the clock on the wall, flashing as the countdown began: 9:59…9:58…9:57…

Fire first. Bram took a handful of kindling and her magnesium fire starter, the flint and steel ready to strike the spark. With flint, a fire could be started in a matter of minutes. For Bram, who had slept out under the stars all her youth, in fields or near barns, between unfamiliar farms on produce-picking jobs, she could do it in under two. The important considerations were angle, pressure, and air. Bram settled beside the materials, easing, relaxed as though she were still in the training center, discussing Alder’s love life. 30° angle. She struck, sparks flying. Another breath, calm. A firmer scrape across. A stronger spark. She brought it closer to the kindling, now calibrated, and this time, it caught from the sparks. Bram reached for twigs, a handful more kindling, building it up into something usable. With a leaf, she fanned the flame, feeding it oxygen, watching it swell and grow. She looked up at the clock: 7:23…7:22… Bram smiled, shifting onto her knees before the fire, which was reaching full bloom.

“Gamemaker event. You try to burn us like the fields in Eleven,” Bram narrated, and – as she had after her dip in the fountain – she unzipped her training suit, pulling it down to her waist, so she could access the skin of her torso, her chest bound tightly so she wasn’t entirely exposed. “I push myself through it, even though I know it will hurt me.” Bram balled her hand into a fist and threw her arm forward, into the fire. She screamed against the burn, the singing skin and the instinctual recoil. But Bram fought through it, battling for control of her body, lingering another moment, until the skin smelt and bled, the burn bad enough to blister and boil. Gasping, she sank back, trembling. Her marred arm still held out, involuntarily shaking. “If left untreated, this will result in sepsis. It will poison my blood. I’ve survived your event, but now my body is a ticking clock.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks, but Bram pushed herself up using the hand on her good arm. “Then let’s say I’m on the shitty end of a knife fight with another tribute at the same fucking time,” Bram walked to the weapon’s rack, lifting a knife from its holder, facing the booth from where the Gamemakers watched. Bram reached down, to her stomach, slicing the blade bluntly across her skin, from the center out towards her ribs. She bit down, hard. Her heartbeat was a scream with how fast it was racing. “In a matter of minutes–” she dropped the knife, where it clattered wetly on the mat. Then, Bram pointed at the clock. 6:12…6:11… “Before the end of this presentation, I’ll lose consciousness and bleed out.”

She continued, dizzy but determined. Shifting to the plant identification section, Bram smacked her fist down on the simulator, the matching of plants with their purpose, name, viability for consumption, and deadliness. There she was, one-handed, bleeding profusely, with the simulator cranked as high as the difficulty could go. This was innate. This was Eleven. It was stealing produce from the farms, or else eating wild weeds and berries from the meadows. It was having no access to medicine, and so needing to create your own. To understand the benefits and risks of each – the good they could do. Bramble pushed herself, even as the nausea continued. Faster, faster. Atropa belladonna, belladonna. Actaea rubra, red baneberry. Celastrus scandens, false bittersweets. Poison, poison. Do not eat. She clutched the control panel as the screen flashed green. Completed, perfectly.

Bram’s head dipped, and she felt her mouth dry, breath shaky. She looked up at the clock. 3:02…3:01… She was moving more slowly now, dragging her body to where the plant and berry sorting bins were. From it, she grabbed a handful of yarrow. “They call this soldier's woundwort,” Bram narrated, though her vision was blurring, and she couldn’t tell if anyone was listening anymore. Maybe time was already over. Maybe they’d left her. One less tribute to kill in the arena. “Watch this.” Bram shoved it in her mouth, chewing, focusing intently on salivating to activate the plant. The flavor was earthen and unpleasant, but it wasn’t intended to be an edible herb. Eventually, when a paste was made, she spat it uncouthly into her palm. And then she pressed it to her stomach, firm against the cut, packing the plant there to stave the bleeding.

Her hand came away red, covered in yarrow and her own blood. But the flow of it, which had been seeping down her stomach, soaking into the bottom-half of her tribute suit, was ebbing. Bram nodded to herself, pleased. She wasn’t going to fucking kick the bucket here like this. She turned back, taking another handful of yarrow, along with a sprig of pot marigold. She brought them back to her mouth, as she was working with one hand and no bowl, working to grind them together with her teeth and tongue. Bram spat the mess out again, smearing this one on her burn, hissing painfully against it.

“I’m going to be a fucking cockroach in that arena,” Bram spat, the burn covered, the bleeding stopped. Fire set, and knowledge proven. “If you gave me more than ten minutes, I could’ve shown you how to build a shelter out of that tree–” She pointed, clueless that in thirty minutes, Slate would attempt to kill himself by falling from it. “Or how to make an appetizing trap from poisonous chokecherries. But I’ve got–” She looked at the clock. “Twenty seconds. So I’ll show you this, as a treat.”

She walked to the weapons rack, pulling a knife free. Cress had taught Nettle, who had taught Bram in turn. Cy had tried too. Not much, but something. Bram lifted it free, bringing herself to the nearest dummy. She touched it with her fingers. A final narration to capstone this scene. “Lungs,” she tapped, “easiest from behind.” A shift. “Heart, best hit from between these ribs.” Her touch smoothing over the fake body. “Intestines, stomach, femoral artery–” And then Bram turned, shoving the knife into the dummy's neck, where she twisted, turning the serrated blade with a sickening squelch. “Left carotid artery.” She left it there, like Nettle told her. They’ll try to take it out themself. They’re dead either way.

“After all of that, you know who lived?” 0:00. The timer beeped. She smiled, smug, half-considering flipping them off, but thinking better of it, if only for Nettle, and Mercuria, and Slate's sakes. “Me.”

#bramble #training score

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leothetraveler · 3 months

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Foreign King AU

Chapter 5 - Reborn Heir

I still remember the day I found her.

It was early fall. The Lamb was carving a path through Anchordeep at the time. Meanwhile, there had been reports of Leshy Loyalists gathering in Darkwood. From what I’d gathered, they intended to reclaim the forest in the name of their dead god. Fools. The lot of them. I would not watch as they tore down the forest I had come to call home. And so, with a small army of…I want to say 30 followers or so (I never counted), and went on a true crusade.

While searching the forest, a few loyalists would so graciously tell me and my merry band where and what was happening. The group had acquired a lock of the Lamb’s wool, and hoped to use it to channel the red crown’s power to resurrect Leshy. Like hell, I was going to let that happen. Leading the crusade, we tore a path to the ritual site. Lost 2 on the way, but there was no time for a proper burial. The longer we delayed, the more likely we would be too late.

But it did not matter, in the end.

We reached the area near the end of the ritual. There must have been a hundred in attendance. I didn’t stop to count. The loyalists in the back stopped chanting shortly after our arrival, quickly drawing blades. And so the battle began. While they had numbers, my forces were trained fighters. They held the exit, a natural chokepoint, and used it to their advantage to slow the tide of cultists.

One by one, they fell to our blades. After the first twenty or so, they stopped their charge, lining up in front of us. Unable to push us back, but clearly hoping to prevent our advance. Once again, they were fools. I was not limited to melee.

The first curse shot exploded on contact, blasting a hole in their line. The next two widened it, allowing my forces to surge the opening.

The carnage begins again. One cultist after another fell before the power of the crown they once worshiped. A few of their number tried to surrender. Most who did were cut down by their supposed allies. I pushed through, trying to stop whatever was happening. But the few remaining loyalists slowed me down.

I watched as the ringleaders drew blades. As they brought them down upon their own flesh, finishing the ritual. I was too late.

The flash as it concluded distracted from the fighting for a moment. While everyone was stunned, I rushed to see the results. The sound of blades clashing rose again behind me as I reached the altar, fully ready to put the overgrown tyrant of a bushworm back into his grave.

…but there was no bushworm. Only a brown kitten.

I was confused. Where was Leshy? Why was there a kitten? Had the ritual failed?

I had my people take hostages from those that successfully surrendered. While those who knew the ritual’s secrets had died in the fighting, those that remained confirmed the ritual’s intent. It was a practice run. A test, to ensure it would work successfully on their god, and not spawn some abomination.

We brought the prisoners back with us. They made carrying our dead easier. A few joined the church after seeing how things were under my rule. The rest either escaped or died trying to kill others.

As for the kitten…I couldn’t leave them there. They were innocent. A victim of faith, same as I.

I named them “Kitrina”, and took them into my care. I wasn’t exactly experienced with children, but with the church’s help, I managed. At that time, I could only hope I made the right choice. “You almost done, dad? Been in here a while.” I looked up from my parchment at the young cat calling for me. She has grown up so much since the day I found her on that altar. “Just a moment, dear,” I said, “Let me put this away.” I rolled up the scroll I had been writing upon, placing it on the rack with the other records of my church’s founding. While it may be used to question my rule later, I would rather my deeds be remembered and used against me than risk being forgotten should some evil god take my place. With that, I joined my daughter outside. The last bishop may have fallen, but a Lord’s work is never done.

FIRST << PREV NEXT (none so far. sry. do have a non-canon crossover on my pinned post)

#cult of the lamb #cotl #cotl au #cotl fanfic #Foreign King AU

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josefavomjaaga · 1 year

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The truth and nothing but the truth...

… is how I wished historiography worked. In reality, stuff is so hard to figure out. Sorry if this yet another rant but I’m so often out of my wits these days. Just as an example, one of the questions that contemporary historians already could not decide upon was: Who was responsible for Cadiz?

Context: After all the setbacks during 1809 the battle of Ocana in November 1809 had stabilized Joseph’s situation as King of Spain somewhat. (That battle, by the way, historians today seem to credit Soult for, who was in overall command, whereas at the time the victory was attributed to Mortier and Joseph.) The Spanish army had been routed, Wellington hastily retreated towards Portugal, the Junta of Sevilla, leading the insurrection against the French invasion, lost lots of credit, and the francophile party got the upper hand.

In this situation, Joseph saw an opportunity to occupy southern Spain, i.e., Andalusia, capturing both Sevilla, seat of the insurrectional junta, and Cadiz, a strategic port and almost impregnable fortress that would later become so important as a bridgehead for British forces. Joseph and his aides in their memoirs point out how this campaign had been Joseph’s very own idea, and how he had to convince a hesitating Soult about it, who in the absence of orders by Napoleon even demanded a written order from Joseph.

Except that at the time contemporaries (both French ambassador Laforest and Napoleon’s police spy Lagarde) had the impression that this was in truth Soult’s brain child, and that he had only spoon fed the idea of an Andalusian invasion to Joseph. They added that Soult was taking with him all his belongings as if he planned for a very long stay away from the capital and that he was obviously extremely happy to get Joseph out of Madrid and onto this campaign, where Joseph would be totally at Soult’s mercy and Soult the only one in charge.

Whereas Soult at the same time wrote home to his wife that he was hoping for a brief campaign and that then he would finally get his congé, leave for Paris and see his family again. (Which would also explain a somewhat less sour expression on the face of Monsieur de Maréchal.)

Anyway. Whoever came up with the idea: In January 1810, the French army, with both Joseph and Soult at its head, set out for Andalusia. All went fine, barely any resistance, Joseph even met with some enthusiasm on the way – and then, at some point, they had to decide where to go: Sevilla, the capital, or Cadiz, before the rebels had the time to fortify it and lock themselves up behind its impregnable walls?

Let’s first hear general Bigarré, one of Joseph’s aides-de-camp:

Some author of the "Victoires et Conquêtes", who every time he had to speak about King Joseph did so with indecent bitterness, still blames him, in the account he gives of the Andalusian expedition, for the delay that the French army incurred in marching on Cadiz.

I can attest, as a witness of what happened at that time, that the king was on the contrary strongly of the opinion that one should make the corps of Marshal Mortier march to the Isle of Leon, without waiting for the result of the course of General Sébastiani on Malaga. But Marshal Soult and General Dessoles, who had a say in the matter, represented to His Majesty that one could not without imprudence pass further forward, without having previously subjected Seville, Granada and Malaga. The advice of these two generals prevailed over the king's opinion, and it was agreed that we would wait until these three cities were occupied by our troops before directing a column to Cadiz.

Well, that’s pretty clear. Bigarré’s tale is supported by the memoirs of Miot de Mélito, another of Joseph’s close co-workers and another eye witness. He relates that Joseph and his staff reached Carmona on January 30 and stayed there for a day, during which time the decision was made to march on to Sevilla instead of Cadiz. After having explained why it would have been so much more important to take on Cadiz first, he resumes:

These reflections, which were easy to make, were made, but were not listened to. The same error that led to the failure of all our operations in Spain was again the cause of this irreparable fault. One believed to find in Seville the end of the war, as, a year before, one had believed to find it in Madrid, and one was so persuaded that the goal and the fruit of the expedition were in Seville, that being at dinner at the king's house in Carmona, with his ministers and several generals, I heard Marshal Soult declare himself highly in favour of the march on Seville and say: "Let somebody account for Sevilla, and I will account for Cadiz! [Qu’on me réponde de Séville, et je réponds de Cadiz! - Not convinced I got the meaning of this entirely correct.]" - The event has only too well proved the error into which this clever general had fallen.

There we have it. The two of them do not quite agree on the reason for this fatal decision (extreme military caution or a misjudgement about the importance of taking the capital) but one thing they make clear: Soult’s at fault.

And finally, from the "Souvenirs sur Joseph Bonaparte" by Joseph's former page Abel Hugo (that's the brother of writer Victor Hugo, in case somebody wondered):

The king wanted to end the war, he was of the opinion to march on Cadiz; the major-general [Soult] opted to enter Seville first. The marshal had for him the authority of a great military reputation and the secret sympathies of the generals, whom the prolongation of the war made masters of the Spanish provinces. He brought the majority of the council round to his opinion, saying: "Let me take Seville, and I will answer for Cadiz." [A slightly different wording from what Miot had heard.] The king was obliged to yield, in the conviction, however, that his opinion was better than that of the marshal.

The only thing I would dispute here is in how far Joseph was "obliged to yield"; he was the king, after all, and could have insisted on his plan, like he allegedly had - as Hugo relates in great detail only a couple of pages earlier - insisted on starting the Andalusian campaign in the first place, in opposition to what Soult suggested. But I digress.

Let’s hear the other side then. What do Soult’s boys have to say about this in his defence?

Unfortunately, nothing at all. Saint-Chamans, for once, does not take a side, he merely laments that three full days were lost in discussions about where to go first. Petiet is too furious about Soult at this point to notice any such military trifles – after all, Soult had just withheld a gratification from his aides that Joseph had meant to give them! (This sounds like a fun story in itself that I have to look into more 😁.) And Brun was on a mission in Paris to congratulate Napoleon on his divorce and remarriage and only joined the marshal again after the events. The only one to claim that Soult had been the one who suggested Cadiz should be occupied first is – Soult himself in his memoirs.

For once, everything seems totally obvious. It’s a clear 3 – 0 result in favour of Joseph. Sorry, Monsieur le Maréchal, this one is on you.

If it was not for a letter that Nicole Gotteri apparently dug up from the war archives, for her biography of Soult. It’s dated Cordoba, 26 January 1810 (i.e., some days before the discussions in Carmona that Miot and Hugo described), and written by Soult to his fellow marshal Victor:

[…] You will direct yourselves with the first army corps on the first of these two cities [Seville]; but, when you are in Carmona, you will send a strong reconnaissance to make sure of the disposition of the inhabitants, and if it appears to you that in Sevilla they do not wish to resist in any way, but on the contrary want to yield to you, you will take possession of it by a few regiments and a piquet of cavalry [...]. Once these arrangements have been made, you will march immediately by the direct route to Cádiz and you will even press your movements so that the enemies will not have time to organise their defence.

Whoops. Bummer. An order by Soult to immediately march on Cadiz. There goes the certainty.

So, what did really happen? Don’t look at me for an answer, I have no clue. Was Victor not sure of Sevilla’s intention and did thus not follow Soult’s instructions? Did Soult for some reason have a total change of heart between the 26th and the 30th of January? Are all three witnesses in favour of Joseph lying? Or had they misunderstood something? Had in truth Joseph convinced Soult of marching on Sevilla, instead the other way around? Is the letter Nicole Gotteri found in the War archives a forgery? (It would not be impossible, considering that Soult was in charge of the ministry of war several times and could easily have placed documents there in order to exculpiate himself.)

The only thing that is for sure: Victor’s corps did not march on Cadiz, but took part in King José’s big and glorious entry into the city of Sevilla on February 1. It was only sent in the direction of Cadiz the following day. They arrived just in time to see how the Spanish junta, who had fled from Sevilla, and the Spanish troops who had come in forced marches in order to fortify Cadiz, locked the gates behind themselves.

The French would never even come close to taking the town, they had lost their only chance. And the discussions about who was responsible for this apparently started immediately after the empire had fallen.

Though the funniest thing for me is to imagine Soult at the beginning of this Andalusian campaign, all hopeful because he thinks he will soon get to leave, inwardly doing the happy dance ,„Just one more campaign, and I’m done with this shit. Take me hooome, country roooaaads…“, while Laforest and Lagarde see him and go „Was that a smile on Soult’s face? Watch out, everyone, red alert, he’s bound to be cooking up some truly devious plan!“

#napoleon's marshals #napoleon's family #joseph bonaparte #jean de dieu soult #andalusia #sevilla #cadiz #spain 1812 #peninsular war

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duhragonball · 1 year

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Dragon Ball Super 005

...

Yeah.

So by this point in the arc, we’ve reached roughly the 20-30 minute mark in the Battle of Gods film. This is the part where Beerus meets Goku for the first time, then Goku asks to spar with Beerus, who demolishes him in two blows. It’s my favorite part of the movie, and Dragon Ball Super Episode 5 tries to re-enact it and botches the whole thing.

This episode started a whole discourse in 2015 because the animation was awful, and fans argued over who to blame. The artists who worked on the series seemed like the obvious pick, but then people started to point out that Toei had been running a sloppy shop for a while at this point. There was a Sailor Moon series that had been running around the same time, and fans of that show noticed the same quality problems. In a nutshell, Toei was trying to cash in on as many of its popular franchises as possible by churning out lots and lots of new content, without the manpower needed to actually produce it properly. So they were hiring anyone who could hold a pen to work on shows like Dragon Ball Super, just to keep it ahead of deadlines.

I don’t claim to understand all the details, but the result seemed to be that you had a lot of overworked, underqualified artists animating this series, and the only thing working in their favor was that the first four episodes were so slow and dull that they didn’t have to animate too much. But Episode 5 is basically a big fight, and even though it’s a total mismatch, you still have all these shots of Goku flaling around trying to hit Beerus, while Beerus plays the artful dodger. So the standard shortcuts don’t work here. You’re going to have to animate Goku and Beerus leaping around, twirling and moving in every direction. And the animators gave it a try, but wound up exposing their limitations.

Now, to be sure, there were plenty of badly animated scenes in classic Dragon Ball. Yukio Ebisawa supervised the animation for every sixth episode, from Emperor Pilaf all the way to Uub, and every one of his entries in the series featured comically off-model characters. You can see a lot of animation shortcuts too, especially in filler episodes, or in spots where it just didn’t matter all that much in the long run. Nobody gets into Dragon Ball because of the high-quality animation. There’s some real classic episodes, and a murderer’s row of talent, and frankly I maintain that Yukio Ebisawa is highly underrated, but the point is that they were making a weekly cartoon show, and sometimes quality had to take a back seat to logistics.

However, Dragon Ball Super Episode 5 was notoriously bad. So bad that fans were swapping screenshots of the off-model characters and openly mocking Toei for putting out such a poor work. So bad that GT-likers were coming out of the woodwork to gloat about how their fave was no longer the worst Dragon Ball series. And it was so bad that Toei actually went back and had some of the scenes redrawn for the home video release.

Well, I’m here to tell you they missed a spot.

Here’s the thing. This episode was always going to suck. They can go back and redo it as many times as they like. They can re-animate the whole thing from scratch, but in the end, it won’t make a bit of difference. And that’s because they already had a good version of this Goku/Beerus fight in the movie. Episode 5 was never going to be able to measure up to that standard, and even if it could, it would never be seen as anything more than a rerun.

There’s three things working against this episode that have nothing to do with the production values.

1) We’ve seen this before. I know I keep harping on it, but it’s true. By this point, the DBS manga had published its own adaptation of this fight, so how many different ways can Toei keep repeating the same scene?

2) It’s slower. The whole point of this scene in the movie was that Goku wanted to experience Beerus’ power, and he came at him with everything he had, immediately powering up to Super Saiyan 3, and getting jobbed out almost immediately. It establishes that Beerus isn’t just a paper tiger. Goku needs to solve the mystery of the Super Saiyan God, because nothing less will do. And Vegeta needs to watch his ass, because he can’t even go SSJ3, and Beerus would wipe him out in an instant either way.

But DBS #5 pumps the brakes by having Goku fight Beerus in all three of his Super Saiyan forms. This is probably meant to introduce them all to new viewers, or to just make the fight last longer, but it’s stupid. Goku even starts out by saying that it would be an insult to Beerus to fight him in base form, then he proceeds to fight in Super Saiyan 1, even as he tells Beerus to hold nothing back. It makes Goku look like a hypocrite.

Then Beerus reveals that he can perceive Goku’s power level, and he knows Goku is holding out on him, but Goku is still reluctant to bring out Super Saiyan 3. Well does he want to go all out with Beerus or not? The studio and the character are working at cross-purposes here. We know what Goku ought to do in this situation, because we saw him do it the right way in the movie. But the studio wants him to sandbag a while, so he does. Beerus ought to be offended by this-- or at least irritated with Goku for wasting his time-- but Toei wants to drag this out, so Beerus indulges him for no good reason.

3) This whole scene is one guy dodging the other. Even if you had enough story here to fill an entire episode, even if you had an unlimited budget and a staff of highly skilled artists to animated it, how much can you really get out of this? The highlight of the fight is the one new wrinkle Toei added, where Goku’s about to attack and then he suddenly stops short and backs off.

Beerus congratulates him for somehow intuiting that he was about to strike. Even though Goku wasn’t consciously aware of it, his body somehow reacted on its own. Like some sort of ultra-instinctive thing. This will become an important plot point 100 episodes later. But right now, it’s just another minute or so of Goku and Beerus not touching each other.

So Episode 5 was a failure from conception, even without the quality issues. With the quality issues, it became a laughing stock. It didn’t matter if the artists were the problem or the studio failing to use their talent more realistically. Once Episode 5 aired, the fans could tell there was something... off about this show. Even quiet, static scenes like this one could fall under scrutiny from the viewer. I’ve been staring at these deck chairs for a while now, because something doesn’t look quite right about them, and I can’t put my finger on it. From here on, the damage had been done, and every episode of DBS was basically an open challenge to the viewer to find something wrong with it.

#dragon ball #dragon ball super #2023dbapocryphaliveblog #goku #beerus #whis #vegeta #bulma #king kai #bubbles #gregory

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vincells · 1 year

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RAISES HAND ENTHUSIASTICALLY

TEEHEE I'm just gonna use Bing for this.... Nobody, First love/Late Spring, I Bet On Losing Dogs, Drunk Walk Home by Mitski (honestly ANY Mitski song fits them. Mitski is honestly beautiful as she sings about the experience being a woman of color.) Finally, the song Time Moves Slow by BADBADNOTGOOD

TW: MORE TALK OF ADDICTION

I Bet in Losing Dogs talks about a woman who sticks with men who she knows hurt her because it's comfortable, and she can never look past her own feelings of a need to nurture and to get love in return. Nobody follows the theme of alienation, having to result to listening in on other people just to get a sense of connection. Near the end of the song Mitski repeats, "Nobody" over and over in a pleading town as it finally sets in no one is coming for her. Drunk Walk Home is sort of exactly how it sounds. After being rejected and earning even more finical debt, a girl walks home drunk, slowly getting swallowed by rage with each step. This version of the song PERFECTLY executes the theme. the screams at 2:30 are AMAZING. First Love/Late Spring is a bit of a bittersweet song that reflects on love and maturity. The fear of commitment consumes Mitski as feeling of vulnerability and exposure is too much. Past pains haunt her, but she still wishes to reach out to gain companionship. Time Moves Slow is a poetic song regarding old love. I don't exactly know how to properly explain this song except showing the lyrics as it.. genuinely speaks for itself-

"Time moves slow

When you're all alone

And the time moves slow

When you're out on your own

And the time moves slow

When you're missing a friend

And the time moves slow

When you came to the end

Running away is easy

It's the leaving that's hard

Running away is easy

It's the living that's hard

And loving you was easy

It was you leaving that scarred"

How does this relate to Bing?

The blood on their hands stains deep and there's nothing they can do to wash it away; they know that good and well. They accept the fact they have destroyed absolutely everything they hold dear. Bing watches their brother become a shell of himself, clinging to them like a lost puppy who lost it's mother. He will always be their baby, but with him, it's a losing battle because the hate in his heart for them is also raging. They're stuck with the consequences of running away; they feel nothing but the unwelcoming stares of their old loved ones once finally returning home. Bing feels nothing but responsibility wearing down on them that's been eating them alive for YEARS.. The same responsibility that pushed them into their addiction in the first place. No one seems to acknowledge their suffering too

#;ocs

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sciencespies · 1 year

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We need to stop thinking of insects as 'creepy crawlies' and recognize their keystone role in ecosystems

https://sciencespies.com/environment/we-need-to-stop-thinking-of-insects-as-creepy-crawlies-and-recognize-their-keystone-role-in-ecosystems/

We need to stop thinking of insects as 'creepy crawlies' and recognize their keystone role in ecosystems

We need to stop thinking of insects as creepy crawlies and focus on the huge benefits they bring to people and the natural environment, scientists say.

The widespread and deeply ingrained cultural perception of insects as creepy crawlies is a key factor holding back the public’s appreciation of the role they play within ecosystems. This perception is in part reflected in government biodiversity policy inaction across the globe, they argue.

This point is among a range of actions highlighted as part of a new paper published in Ecology and Evolution produced by an international team of entomologists which outlines a ‘battle plan’ including steps needed to prevent further insect losses across the globe.

Led by Dr Philip Donkersley of Lancaster University and co-authored by scientists from the University of Hong Kong, the Czech Academy of Sciences and Harper Adams University, the paper is a call to action targeted at other entomologists to step up advocacy for insects.

Despite 30 years of intergovernmental reports highlighting biodiversity targets, global insect abundance, biomass and diversity continues to decline. The paper considers the lack of progress in protecting insects and why meaningful change has not happened.

“Biodiversity, including insect, declines are often unintended consequences of human activities with human wellbeing nearly always trumping nature conservation, and this is likely to continue until we reach a point where we see flat-lining ecosystems are detrimental to our own species,” said Dr Donkersley. “Intergovernmental action has been slow to respond, kicking in only when change becomes impossible to ignore. If we are to see political attitudes and actions change then first societies’ perception of insects needs to be addressed.”

The paper highlights the range of benefits that insects bring, including some that are lesser known. These benefits include fundamental roles within ecosystems through interactions with plants including as pollinators, as a food for other animals, and as a food source for people in many parts of the world. Other benefits the authors highlight include insects’ contributions to wellbeing, culture and innovation, such as the benefits people derive from seeing butterflies in parks and gardens, their inclusion in poetry and literature, and their inspiration for a range of technologies, cosmetics and pharmaceuticals.

The researchers have outlined strategic priorities in their action plan to help support the conservation of insects. These include:

to proactively and publicly address government inaction

highlighting the technological developments we owe to the insects, and that there is a lot still to be discovered

aligning with bird, plant and mammal conservation groups to show species interdependencies and knock-on benefits insect conservation has for other animals

Engage public and school students with the wonders of the insect world to counter perceptions of insects as threatening ‘creepy crawlies’

“The benefits we gain from the insect world are broad, yet aversion of phobias of invertebrates are common and stand firmly in the path of their conservation,” said Dr Donkersley. “We need to move beyond this mindset and appreciate the huge role they play in ecosystems, foodchains, mental health, and even technological innovation.

“This perception change is a crucial step, alongside other measures we outline in this paper. Immediate and substantial actions are needed to protect insect species in order to maintain global ecosystem stability.”

The steps are outlined in the paper ‘Global insect decline is the result of wilful political failure: A battle plan for entomology’.

Authors on the paper are Dr Philip Donkersley, Lancaster University, Dr Louise Ashton, University of Hong Kong, Dr Greg Lamarre, Czech Academy of Sciences, and Dr Simon Segar, Harper Adams University.

Story Source:

Materials provided by Lancaster University. Note: Content may be edited for style and length.

#Environment

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