#arson is bad folks don’t do it

[marcobodtlives]

My Roman Empire this, my Roman Empire that,

Well they’re my Burning of the Library of Alexandria

#shoutout to all my history nerds #imagine losing that much in one instant #the loss of ​over half a million scrolls books and writings on priceless history inventions and discoveries equates to losing a soulmate #imo #oh the places we’d be with the priceless things and people we’ve lost #arson is bad folks don’t do it #also murder is bad folks don’t do it #Marco is as soft and fragile as a papyrus and Jean burns as bright as a flame #metaphors #that make me SOB #yet another tiktok trend that leaves me in tears #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #jean kirschstein #marco bodt #or if you wanna be funky: #jean kirstein #marco bott #jeanmarco #aot #jean x marco #marco x jean

[txttletale]

i appreciate what you’re saying abt drunk driving jokes being funny because they’re dark. like i enjoy a good 9/11 joke as much as the next guy. i just struggle to understand the delineation between what makes a dark subject “ok” to joke abt in circles that otherwise seem to have an understanding that some topics shouldn’t be joked about. like what makes rape a subject we (“we” being folks in aforementioned leftist circles) agree we shouldn’t make light of vs drunk driving? as someone who’s experienced trauma from both i just don’t get it (not trying to compare the two in terms of severity just trying to say idk why the negative impact of one is deemed more liable to be joked abt than the other). i agree it is on me to curate my Social Media Experience so i will block after this- genuinely no offense meant i otherwise like your content- just wanted to see if i could glean insight to a trend i have seen that bothers me personally

ime the main reason is simply that rape (and sexual violence) is just culturally more taboo than other forms of crime or violence. i also think that unlike drunk driving / arson / murder / 9/11 there is a very gendered dynamic to joking about rape which makes disentangling the concept from e.g. misogyny and homophobia very difficult and so makes joking about it more fraught from a, like, 'social justice' perspective than crimes which don't have those dynamics attached.

& perhaps there is also an element of, like, being aware of the profound level to which sexual violence is normalized and enshrined in our society that means that joking about it being Good is both less funny and more risky because there is a real social current that enshrines, protects, exonerates rapists -- the dril drunk driving tweet is funny because it registers as obviously ridiculous that anyone would ever think drunk driving has 'advantages', but if that same tweet was made about rape i think it would be uncomfortably close to the actual position of e.g. mainstream religious conservatism.

like, generally, the more 'real' a joke where you ironically pretend a bad thing is good--the more people actually think the thing you're saying--the less funny it is. (and to make sure i'm not being misconstrued, i'm obviously not saying that rape itself is more 'real' than drunk driving, murder, arson, terrorism, etc. -- rather than 'rape is Good actually' is a much more real actual political and social position than 'drunk driving / murder / arson/ terrorism is Good' are).

but idk these are all basically off-the-top-of-my-head hypotheses and might have nothing to do with it. enjoy your blogging experience & always have a nice time on the computer!

#ask #rape mention cw

[tea-dragonz]

Ross Lore Part 1

Separate posts + long doc won in the end, so we’re doing it like this

This comes from the video A Parkour Map Designed to Make Us RAGE!!!, posted on August 2, 2020. While this isn't the first time that Max and Ross' characters have been given lore (the Overalls v. Jorts court case preceded this), this appears to be the first time that the running gag of "Ross Lore" was mentioned by name. Below are summaries of the notable pieces of Ross Lore mentioned:

Qbert’s bro, Burt is a sponge block given to Max and Ross at the beginning of the level. Partway through the video Ross locks himself in a shelter of wooden planks to get out of doing the parkour. He places Bert down and Max breaks him, leading to the creation of Sponge. Sponge is a Minecraft sponge block and Ross’ good buddy that he hasn’t seen in weeks. He brought the blue punch that tasted green to Max’s birthday.

Ross likes to use a dagger in combat.

Ross burnt down an orphanage to stop what he calls the moon people. Max claims that he burnt down the wrong orphanage, but Ross says that he did it first to prevent the moon people from doing it and caused them to leave as a result. According to Max the other orphanage was their target and the reason they left was because they accomplished their goal, thus making Ross’ arson pointless

Ross took a group of elderly people camping and returned with 4 more elderly folks at the end. They went into the woods as a group of 6 and came back as a group of 14.

Ross taught a group of kids how to swim in shark infested waters. He refuses to elaborate on it.

Ross invented toothpicks (patent and everything) and sued another guy who claimed to have invented toothpicks.

Ross invented being pregnant.

Ross was bullied on the playground by school kids.

Ross crashed a wedding and ended up marrying the father.

Ross’ left eye is glass.

Ross opened a refrigerator store for 2 months. During that time he only sold 1 fridge and went bankrupt, then faked his death in a freak refrigerator accident in Milwaukee. Ross is the moniker he took after faking his death, though he refuses to share his original name.

Ross took 7 people and a parrot to prom.

Ross dug a huge hole at the beach and buried 4 kids. They were attempting to build a tunnel system underneath a sandcastle and it caved in. Ross himself almost got buried but managed to dig his way out. Whether the kids died or not is never elaborated on.

Ross opened a motel for dogs after watching the movie Hotel.

Ross got caught in a ladder. As a result he still has 19 years of bad luck to go and a prosthetic foot.

At the age of 14, Ross had to get his 7th and 6th fingers removed on his right hand. Max remembers it as his left, and Ross reminds him that that was his foot.

Ross had to get the extra toes on his left foot removed, which he keeps in a jar.

Ross soul bonded to Van Gogh and tried to cut off his own ear, but the safety scissors didn’t work. Max says that they did work and he passed out, though his ear was presumably sewn back on.

Ross sunk a ship in the parking lot, apparently in an attempt to test the boat. Ross said that it was hard to get it into the pavement. An unnamed “he” got really mad at this.

Ross threw up at the movie theater and at a funeral. They don’t talk about the funeral incident.

Growing up, Ross told his guidance counselor that he wanted to be an astronaut pirate and ended up becoming one somehow. The guidance counselor died at some point, and this funeral may be related to the other funeral incident.

Ross beat the sun in a staring contest. It is partially the reason why he has a glass eye

The other reason is the time he helped invent peanut butter.

Ross is the hero of Pennsylvania. He says to check the history books.

Ross named McDonalds. The founder originally wanted to go with “Wacky Floppy Burger Buns”, but Ross told him to call it McDonalds.

Ross volunteered at the retirement home and beat some ladies at bingo.

There was another incident involving old ladies in which they were running an illegal knitting business and “Professor Ross had to teach them a lesson”. They apparently threw the first punch and threw knitting needles at him so Ross pulled out his katana and beat them up.

The censor duck that bleeps out curse words in Max’s videos does it as a paid job and needs the money to turn the heating bill on. He also needs to pay back his bail to Ross in order to see his ducklings again.

Other non-Ross Lore notable things:

Max points out that bottom of Ross’ left foot on his Minecraft skin is discolored.

#mithzan #yourpalross #ross lore #long post

[supertrainstationh]

We're all on this ride together,

friends as close as we are thick, from beginning to the end, on board my hydrogen airship.

I got the gas on discount and the savings were extensive, because inflating ships with helium, though safer, is expensive.

I know that craft like mine, have an odious reputation of bursting into flames and causing nationwide sensations,

but that incident at Lakehurst, really was just rotten luck - an unfortunate disaster, freak occurrence run amuck.

I'm the Captain, and the route to safety on my chart, I'm mapping.

I've been tasked with making sure that nothing stupid happens.

When everything is good, please don't forget that I'm in charge, but when the winds get rocky, know in advance, I'm not the cause.

The ship has my name on it, and my uniform looks cool, but boring stuff like maintenance I pass to other fools.

Our dress code on board is open, please wear anything you like. Restrictions on personal taste are really not our style.

The meals we serve are vegetarian, we love animals, so listen, we enforce our standards strictly - though you can order steak or chicken.

We said it was meatless eating, though it was slaughtered in a barn, but going through the motions keeps those who might judge us, charmed.

And my favorite passengers are in the lounge smoking cigars, and they stay behind the scenes so no one sees them from afar.

We know that smoking's bad - keeping appearance is our mission, so smoking behind a curtain keeps away the eyes of critics.

We know some riders deal with asthma, and that others hate the smell, but we're the only ship that matters - fly with us, or go to hell.

We used to light Roman candles for on-board fireworks shows, but our insurance forbade us, so that pleasure had to go.

We were always morally opposed, and fireworks are lame. They are loud, and quite obnoxious, and with us they had no sway. (Do not mention our old habits, or we'll make you go away.)

Even if some got hurt, we're not liable for the past, so do not speak of it. (Or you'll go out the window fast.)

Some passengers packed explosives, but they said they mean no harm - good thing for that, cause just one spark would make us buy the farm.

We do not allow danger, this ship runs on common sense, but one friend of mine brought with him gear whose wonder is immense.

It has a tank for holding fuel that's worn upon one's back, and a nozzle aimed at what the user   wishes to attack.

And when the trigger's pressed flames are thrown out, and strewn all over, but its vital to remember this device is no flamethrower.

Flamethrowers are illegal, and on this ship we heed the law, so enjoy "not-a-flamethrowers" here from dusk until the dawn.

Some of my officers before, faced lock-up time for arson, but they promised me they'd stop, so they're as harmless as a parson.

Others on board are burn victims, I checked, and yes, it's true! If those folks can forgive then why in heaven's name can't you?

Even if we're the only flight departing from their town, and these survivors otherwise lack means to get around.

One rider spoke concerned about a fellow rider's actions, I did confront the issue fast to ensure satisfaction.

I acted swiftly in my duty, faster than a blur, and sent that guy a private message to make sure that I was heard.

It said, "Passenger, I beg of you, please do not be obscene. I've heard complaints you did something perhaps a little mean.

"What you did, in certain folk's opinion, may be kind of naughty, but kicking you off of my ship, would make me lame and haughty.

"So don't boast of your acts, it makes somewhat of a scene, and if people knew, that you were here, my ship might seem unclean.

"Behave yourself, during the time on board here that you spend. There may be ample proof, but ignorance, I can pretend - I see no reason, you, from my fine ship, I should suspend."

One rider was on camera with some pipe bombs at a bank, he fled with cash, but when asked, he assured, "'Twas just a prank."

I vet passengers carefully, for their safety, I'm to thank. I must be doing well, since ridership has yet to tank.

Maybe it's because my ship's the biggest one around, and with few riders, smaller ships, must fly   low to the ground.

People want to see the heights, so I say, "Fly with me!"

And things are good enough, so why cater to rider's needs?

Our great size proves we're awesome, so there's no cause   to be cautious.

Spend your hard-earned trust on us, for an Atlantic double-crossing.

I'm glad you are on board with us, so let the flight begin, and - OH MY GOD I just realized, we're filled with hydrogen!

The ship's already in the sky, up where the air is thin -

time for plausible denials made to cover up my sins.

I mentioned Lakehurst but I swear, I knew not of "Hindenburg", and of hydrogen's dangers, I guarantee, I've never heard.

The situation's serious, but none of it's on me. No one must know my choices chanced my own community.

I'll assess the crisis cunningly, risk hides right in the open, as I eye those churlish few, lighting cigars and smoking -

but to make them put out their cigars would cast me as uncool. But that's alright, I'll tame the fear of fire at its root, and throw those wearing wool sweaters out, without a parachute.

Even if rules agreed to didn't name a dressing code, not everyone's essential so why not lighten our load?

Everyone knows wool can make sparks after it builds up static, so kicking off wool-wearers is a most ingenious tactic.

As for what defines wool? Well, I know it when I see it. My vision is infallible, so heed unto thy fiat.

The tags upon all sweaters listing contents of their fabric, are false and biased sources - trusting them's an awful habit.

And the sweater's manufacturers, why would they tell the truth? Claiming they'd tag things honestly's a most deceitful ruse.

And among those who wear wool clothes and years ago, lived through fires, their clothing choice clearly reflects pyroclastic desires.

It's not my fault they boarded wearing flame-inducing clothes, and sadly rules are rules, so out the window they must go.

It's a sensible decision, and our enemy is brash, so kick them out while I sneak my wool clothing to the trash.

Anything to protect my ship so I'll expand the list - I won't allow a threat so catastrophic to exist.

I see many things so dangerous bad actors I must cull - I'll go hunting to declare more things now, unacceptable.

Clothing that is white or black now also counts as wool, even if it's not from sheep, my logic can't be bull.

If they are wearing nylon, leather, silk, or polyester,

let them fall into the ocean, where in crashing waves they'll fester.

You see, sheep, which wool comes from, are often colored white or black, so wearing those two colors now shall count as an attack.

And every single shade of gray is now forbidden too, to argue otherwise is claiming fire crimes are cool.

And once I point my finger there's no way they can resist, as that alone is proof their clothing colors breech my list.

All defenses are but alibis the guilty use to lie, so ignore me as I dip my clothes in vats of colored dye.

It's cold up here, and many brought good clothes to keep them warm, but I don't accept excuses! No exceptions! You've been warned!

Though for those who I owe favors, or that I think are cool, the written statement, "I promise this ain't wool." is ample proof.

As for you defilers out there, us good riders know the truth, we will toss you from our ship, to purge corruption at its root!

How dare you endanger our ship? All passengers unite!

Throw out the troublemakers now, or surely we will die!

They picked this fight, it wasn't me, I'm truly innocent!

I acted on behalf of all, in passenger's defense!

Now my dirigible is saved! I'm soaring high with my good friends, and we ride into infinity on journeys without end.

We righteous fliers light our lighters, and wave them in salute, and in the mess hall, feast on flambe freshly slaughtered goose.

We would feel bad about it, but luckily we all are vegan, and if anybody questions that, they'll be thrown off for treason.

A ship like mine, there's only one, so please fly with us soon, and trust it's just a Fender bender when all of it goes kaboom.

----------------------------------------------

I have A VIDEO documenting nearly the entire creative process of crafting this poem for those who want to see.

I also have a quicker video of me merely reciting it.

[Twitch] [VOD Channel] [Furaffinity] [Ko-fi]

#satire #airship #incompetence #favoritism #hypocrisy #dirigible #allegory

[thememestho]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ 911 fox sentence meme

enjoy this overly extra sentence meme series. episode 2.18 (part 27 of ?)

I'm having some trouble hearing you.

No! That's my dog!

He's not my mailman. My mailman's Larry.

You got to help me here.

Fire in the hole.

Why didn't you say something? 

I don't like tuna fish. Am I under arrest?

These false alarms are almost more nerve-wracking than the real thing.

Maybe the whole thing is a false alarm.

You're picking a cake but haven't even decided on the venue?

I still don't understand why you guys are doing a stupid wedding.

I don't want to wear a tux.

Tuxedos are stupid. And plus, I'm way too old to be a ring bearer.

He is growing up way too fast.

His mom was pretty brave, too.

_____, we're not doing this.

It's not that simple. I'm still a probationary firefighter. I'm so close to earning my shield.

You want me to just throw away the last year of my life?

We have a life here, and family.

We are sitting right here.

Being with me is what’s best for ______.

I chose this life for a reason. 

You can choose another one.

Yeah? Well, folks got the Internet now. If they want to see dumb people doing stupid things, they can just get it for free online.

Will you quit your complaining?

I'm gonna give 'em a show.

Right now, I'm looking at a useless heap of rusted junk... and then there's the car.

Yeah? Well, if it means I'd get one single minute of peace and quiet... so be it.

I think this bitch is finally getting her revenge!

Be careful what you do, okay?

Just be quiet. Be quiet!

"She," damn it! The car is a she!

Any chance you can get me loose without cutting the hair? It's kind of my trademark, you know?

You know, this isn't even the worst he's been hurt.

Like hell you are!

Setting you on fire, now that would be a glorious blaze.

Oh, God, don't let him die, you guys. I love the bastard.

I swear to you, honey, if I get out of this alive, I'll never do a reckless thing ever. I'm done with that life.

____, you son of a bitch!

And the view.  You cannot put a price on that.

Open floor plan. Touch of modern. A little raw. I see the potential.

This would be my first place all on my own. 

Oh. I assumed you'd be living here together.

We're just not quite at that stage yet.

We're at the stage where I'm ready for his man cave to get a little more natural light.

Better than a hotel.

I mean, I'm, like, totally reeling from all that travel, but, you know, that's the life I chose.

Putting myself out there to find you guys next-level products to make you look and feel beautiful, even when I don't. 'Cause you see this?

What are we looking for, exactly?

I mean, I did just get back from Belize.

Oh. Are you sure?

It's a science project, Dad. He didn't, like, get into MIT.

I've been in his courtroom more than once.

Are you gonna take it with you?

Could be some valuable evidence inside that box.

That was it?

Hey, I got here as fast as I could. They wouldn't let me down the street.

The woman doesn't look familiar. Not her name or her face.

You're not gonna remember every attorney you've ever met.

Do you remember working an arson case about three years back?

I wonder how angry he is now.

I don't know anything about that.

He said you blew up their lives.

You’re new.

He's all alone.

Then how come no one's running in there?

Get me the captain! Where's the captain?!

He wants me. 

He wants you dead! 

Let's give him what he wants.

I'm here now.

How far away are you?

He's got parents, a sister, a girlfriend, and he never did anything to you.

Is that how you see yourself? An unintended victim in all this?

You got dealt a bad hand, and I am sorry about that. But what you did with it... that's a choice.

We were all doing our jobs.

My mom and I lost everything.

She was in so much pain.

Still with us, ____?

Just hang in there, ____-aroo.

How's he doing, ______?

A great moment for all of us.

You're a fool. But I love you too.

You-You're here. 

Of course I'm here.

And you're now the proud owner of one titanium rod and four beautifully cobalt-chromed screws.

Okay, I'm not gonna lie to you and tell you that it's gonna be all right. But I don't think you need to be borrowing trouble, not yet.

So we're into brunettes now.

Thank you for being here. 

I would like it noted that he didn't thank either of us. 

Girl, I don't think he knows we're still in the room.

Remember when working remotely wasn't even a thing?

The day I'm working from home, our damn house is on fire.

Well, if there's anybody who can strong-arm Mother Nature, it's you. 

Are you serious about this?

We weren't sure if we were making the right decision that time either. But there has never been a day I regret choosing being his mom.

You and that man are the two things that get me home every day.

A couple more footsteps stomping around the house might be nice.

I'm kidding. We own it. With the caveat that we are not allowed to flip, crash, or blow her up any time soon.

But I made no promises.

Well, it's kind of hard to fire a guy who was a hero on the 6:00 news.

Not to mention the fiery tweet-storm that'd rain down on their heads, starting with me.

Easy, okay? I don't want you to fall and break the other one.

I am just glad to be out of the hospital.

I miss my own bed... which I won't see for the next three months. Guess I am sleeping down here.

I watched you almost die.

Look, I... It's not like I didn't know you were in a dangerous line of work when I met you, you know, ten stories up of a collapsing high rise.

That was one day... one day of my life, ____. It's every day for you. I'm just starting to really understand what that means.

No, I would never... I would never ask you to do that.

Listen. I know it's who you are.

Hey. I don't know yet. Okay?

Right. What am I doing here?

I asked you if things were ever gonna be the same and you said no.

We're never gonna get back what we would have had. But maybe we could have something else.

You know, you were standing right there when you asked me out on a date, and, uh, I'm not sure I'd ever been so happy... Until right now.

Hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa. Come on, be careful. 

Uh, were you gonna sew these two pieces back together? -- I don't think so.

Doesn't mean you had to rip them.

I don't even know why I'm taking you. You shouldn't be on your feet, you need to be healing.

Well, this is more important. If I break anything else, they can just fix that, too, with the other stuff.

They want me to have another surgery. Uh, doctor wasn't happy with what he saw on the X-rays, so he wants to go back in and... replace the rod and do some bone grafts.

I mean, if it's just healing slower than expected, you could just wait a few weeks.

So the doctor does want you to wait. You should listen to him.

No, being a firefighter is my life. It is the, the only thing I have ever done that was important and that mattered, okay?

Without that, I-I-I don't have...

There are lots of other important things that you can do with your life.

People assume we choose this life. I'm not so sure. Sometimes I think this life chooses us.

An emergency is the absence of choice.

But in those moments of darkness...  and fear, we call out to the light up ahead, to the people we love.

We steal back that choice, and we choose each other.

Figured you'd be going home to sleep after your shift.

And if there's one thing you and I know, it's that today is the only thing you can be sure of.

#rp memes #rp sentence memes #rp sentence prompts #rp inbox memes #rp starters

[interact-if]

Umm hi 👉👈 I realized that most of the asks you guys get are about games and rec lists. You guys deserve so much recognition for the work you put in this blog, so I wanted to ask if I can do a little get-to-know-the-mods thing? If that's okay!

1. Besides writing, what are your hobbies?

2. Do you have a niche interest right now?

3. Any fave songs/artists/bands?

4. Any fave movies/tv shows?

5. On a scale of 1-10, how likely would you survive in your wip's world?

You can totally ignore this if you guys want, no pressure. Anyway, much love to all the interact-if mods! You guys are incredible! ❤

We saw this ask and we went 👀 👀 👀 so we’re happy to answer! Thank you so much for the fun ask!

 We also rated our survivability in all of our collective games, since Mars isn't an author! Fun stuff! Spoilers, though: it’s really not looking so great for me (Dani) but that’s fine!!!  😌

1. I’m a photographer as well as a graphic artist (but not like. A painter/drawer kind of artist!) and, on a general level, a maker and a tinkerer!

2. Fountain pens! I only write with ink, and only with fountain pens, and I use bottled inks/converters!

3. I’m pretty eclectic with music, but my top genres are alt rock, indie, indie pop, etc, as well as top 40s and some rap.

4. I feel like this is the hardest one for me to answer? Favorite movies/shows? Avatar: the Last Airbender has been a favorite show of mine since I was a little kid, but I have a harder time thinking of shows I would call a favorite in recent years. There are shows I’ve liked, and a lot of shows I’ve watched. But I’m picky! And demanding! It takes a lot to earn a place in Dani’s Trophy Case of Favorites. 😌 I would say I quite liked A Quite Place (movie), and I liked Us (movie). When it comes to TV shows, I have a hard time being pleased with them if they don’t end well. As a result, I have a penchant for a good limited series/miniseries (because they’re stories that have an end in mind and the plot reflects that, dagnabbit).

5. Heh. Okay.

In The Goodfellows? I think I stand I chance. I can exercise my sparkling wit and lovable personality to the best effect. I’m gonna give myself an 8/10 survivability rating. Even if I don’t have the right skills, I can go crying to the person who does and they’ll save me. Maybe.

In Creatures’ Cradle? I’m super $**!%d. 😌 1/10 survivability rating. And that 1 is me being nice to myself. The day the apocalypse breaks out I would probably be patient 0. I am self-aware. I would not do well in an apocalypse. Zombies care not for aforementioned sparkling wit and lovable personality, and I have all the muscle of a boiled spaghetti noodle. So it’s a no go.

Greater Than Gods (Cruz): Well. I’m going to be optimistic. And say that I have the wisdom not to do things I shouldn’t do and not to rock boats I shouldn’t rock. I’m going to give myself a 7/10 based on insider information, but also based on reckless optimism!

Vardir (Cruz): Cruz says this is a lighthearted game, so 10/10 LOL.

When it Hungers (Roast): I’m giving myself a nice, mediocre 5/10. I think I could put my mind to work here; I joke that I’m the village idiot, but I’m actually pretty smart! Unfortunately, I’m also curious, and maybe a little bad with authorities who won’t answer my questions. So I knocked off a lot of points due to the fact that I’d probably poke the metaphorical bear. So it’s a real coin flip as to whether I’d really make it or not.

Orthall Bay (Nines): Considering the genre is “horror” and the game intro includes the words “monster” and “maim,” I’m giving myself a whooping, enthusiastic 3/10. Yes, folks, I am that confident in myself! Once again, I can’t charm the socks off a monster (or can I?), so one of my greatest weapons is snatched from beneath my feet. Alas!

1. Beloved I’m a college student in the middle of a pandemic... i can hardly even write LOL i do draw at times which u can see in my personal blog (nothing too good really) and i used to do karate before things went to shit <3

2. Nothing niche I believe? All I do is leave Netflix as bg noise every day n play popular videgames (genshin)

3. Porter Robinson <3 I love Bea Miller a lot as well but lately I’ve been feeling Porter a lot

4. The Good Place <3

5. My WIPs:

Greater than Gods: Highly situational, the world GtG is set in is as broad as the real world LOL so I don’t have an universal answer. But keeping it vague, and knowing my own personality, I feel like 5/10. depends on my luck.

Vardir: 10/10 no one dies in Vikgade, unless you’re a hunter but I wouldn’t be a hunter <3

Others’ WIPs

I'm gonna give myself a solid 5/10 in all other WIPs because y'all aren't writing lighthearted stories either. I feel like as long as I avoid the role of the MC I will be mostly fine. I hope. But as Dani said I'm also prone to fight the wrong person and dig my own grave so 😌

1. Well, writing is a very, very, very, distant hobby since Words Hard, but I like to crochet and sculpt a little! Anything to do with fiddling with my hands and I’m good to go. And like, debatable but graphic design is my passion [insert clown emoji here since Tumblr said No]

2. Oh yeah a bunch! DnD yelling at people, thinking of arson, crocheting, rock climbing and simply vibing. I got into podcasts a few years ago and I’m always looking for more recs, so if you have some, hmu 😤

3. Pls,,,,my music taste is,,,so weird do not let me expose myself with lack of consistency but uhh. Current songs that are stuck in my head include; Cult of Dionysus , Achilles Come Down and The Last Shanty  

4. If you’ve ever spoken to me before, I probably yelled about Pacific Rim to you or at you. Plus I love all The Mummy films and really enjoyed Castlevania (s3 excluded, we do not perceive that) as well! 

5. Ah, mod survival simulator pt. 3

Alright, let’s go!  I don’t have a WIP because again, words hard, but like, considering how feral I am when not tryna seem professional hm... 

The Goodfellows: I wanna say a solid 7/10 because I’d hardcore vibe with the Traveler and probably instigate so much nonsense. I can also bribe with blueberry cake so maybe. 

Creature’s Cradle: maybe a 4/10 and only because of pure spite keeping me alive long enough to smack someone. I’ve prepared for hypothetical  zombie apolcapyses and I won’t hesitate to bap, but will be bapped back because I’m weak as hell. 

Greater Than Gods: a toss up between 2/10 and 7/10! I can vibe and be chill but I also have terrible impulse control so... 

Vardir: hm....I think pretty good survival rates all around? If you ask me to fight then like, okay sure, your knees are mine. So maybe a 8/10? 

When it Hungers: .......8/10 just because I’d refuse to die if I can be a cool creature. Living for the aesthetic can and will drag me outta hell. But I’m also clumsy as hell so I’d probably crash as a porcelain or hold a rooster and perish (aka, real rating is a good 3/10) 

Orthall Bay: 2/10, nope. Nope I’d be taken out in a heartbeat. Monsters can go pspsps and I’d head straight into the dark creepy forest like a fool if someone comes @ me. Half the time I’ll just assume it’s sfx makeup and vibe until it’s too late. 

god, never put me in a universe where I cannot squawk like a bird and throw pebbles from a window. Oof

Anon, you're so sweet! I give you a forehead smoomch <333 As for your questions...

1. If I'm not writing, I'm usually watching video essays on Youtube. My go-to channels as of right now is Disrupt and Aperture! I just really like their videos. Aside from that, I recently got into podcasts. Currently going through Hello From The Hallowoods and Shelter and Warning, which are made by queer creators!

2. Oh oof, there's quite a bit so I'm just gonna put down one thing. For some reason, I really got into collecting tiny astronaut things? I recently bought this astronaut desk light, and I've got a package coming in for the miniatures I ordered. No purpose for them other than I think they're neat <3

3. I'm a bit private with my music taste (even tho I have Spotify connected on Discord lmao), but there's 5 songs that I'm currently obsessed with. I keep replaying them over and over again. Just squeezing all the serotonin I could get outta them.

4. I can't really say I have a fave TV show or movie because I can't really just pick one, but my current fave is 9-1-1 and Resident Alien. 9-1-1 because I just really love the found-family dynamics and how the show tackles sensitive topics, and Resident Alien because it's lighthearted comedy. My all-time fave movie is Flipped! I have the book too and I like rereading from time to time <3

5. You're in for a doozy, anon, because we're rating each other's games <333

The Goodfellows: 7/10

Listen. Shenanigans with the Traveler. I would get up to so many of them and that is what'll get me possibly bodied, not the actual environment itself <3

Greater than Gods: 7/10

I like to think I have enough common sense to uhhh not recklessly flip stones that should not be flipped <3 I'm a cautious and skeptic person irl so I think I'll hold up well? Then again, it's a vast environment change and while I can adapt pretty quick, I wouldn't like the lack of control in the unknown.

Vardir: 10/10

Going off what Cruz said, Vardir is lighthearted and focused on personal growth so I think I'll be okay! Self-growth here I come, babey!

Creatures' Cradle: 8/10

Maybe I'm overestimating myself, but I think I'll be able to survive in a supernatural post-apocalyptic world! Ah, but it depends on the motivation though. I like the idea of rebuilding communities and eventually societies, but the survival turmoil would be a constant battle I'd have to overcome. If we're talking survival itself though, I think I'll do well.

When it Hungers: 8/10

That's probably my wishful thinking but I think I'll be fine. Maybe. Possibly. Don't like the idea of being regulated by an organization so if I was a non-human creature that could pose a problem but I can roll with it <3

Orthall Bay: 6/10

Assuming I'm not playing as MC, my chances of survival uhhh changes quite drastically. Not enough to guarantee an untimely demise, but certainly enough that it would constantly keep me on my toes. I think that's the safest answer I can get without spoiling anything lmao

Thank you so much for asking! It's super sweet of you <3

1. Too many :'D I knit, I sew, I do carpentry (well, learning), I bake, I'm hammering away at HTML and CSS, my job kind of encourages learning new things and I take that to picking up new hobbies!

2. My time is kind of consumed with school work and work work and WIP work so not a lot of time to pursue niche interests right now. I've been watching a lot of horror game playthroughs, true crime youtubers, and an adorable show on Netflix called the Repair Shop <3

3. My taste in music is "what am I vibing with atm?" I've been listening to a lot of 80's music atm (don't @ me), but also Lo Fang and Kaleo, and whatever spotify recommends me on my discover weekly which is usually complete chaos.

4. I love the Mummy even though it hasn't aged 100% well (I'm a librarian, of course it's one of my gotos LOL), Legally Blonde, Leverage, Jumanji (the original), I'm....very bad at having recent tastes... and very bad at remembering my favorites when asked.

5.

The Goodfellows: I'm a creature of comfort, 5/10 if I can just luxuriate in town and not actually interact with the story sfjkdbsdkf

Creature’s Cradle: I'd like to think I have a 50/50 shot XD 5/10, I want to think I'd be decent at a zombie apocalypse but ultimately would suffer an early fate.

Greater Than Gods: 10/10 if I'm just vibing, less so if I'm involved in the actual story XD

Vardir: I'd still suffer without technology but I can also knit for a living in this world so I'm down 8/10

When it Hungers: I feel like I could vibe here, there's tech if dated, hot showers, telephones are around by now... might still get bored. 7/10 though it'd be cool to be another creature....I should make a 'what creature of snv are you' quiz!

Orthall Bay: 7/10 idk I feel like after the first monster of the week I'd just skip town XDDDD I'm the worst protagonist, I see danger I just leave.

#mod talk #long post #interact if: asks

[an-absolute-travesty]

Smokey Skies and Pretty Fires

Hecking FINALLY

This took like a whole ass month my dudes

There was no prompt, just some good ol self indulgent marelinh :) (that started as a joke but-)

About: Marella x Linh, vigilante arsonist/fire fighter au

Word count: ~4,250

Tag list: @cadence-talle @ruewen-and-rising @lemontarto @a-lonely-tatertot @clearlykeefitz @percabetn @vibing-in-the-void-deactivated2 @sewersewersewercouch @everyonehasthoughts @imaramennoodle @enbies-and-felonies @blxckh0les42​ @rainbowtay-11 @callas-starkflower-stew @impostertamsong @appalyneinstitute1 @stars-and-splendor @anna-without-an-e @mistythegirlfluxmess @we-have-no-bananas-today @we-wont-dissapear 

Warnings: corrupt governments, fire, swearing

Linh bent down, examining the ash that covered the ground.

Some of the structure still remained, but very little of it. This was intentional, and the perp knew what they were doing.

The long string of arson incidents on government buildings was getting to be too much. At first, Linh didn't mind much. No one was ever hurt, the files inside were saved and released to the public, no fire ever spread to other buildings. But as a fire investigator and, due to her hydrokinesis, a firefighter it was getting kind of annoying. She had better things to do with her time.

She felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Hey Song, come over here for a minute."

It was her boss. She, obviously, followed.

"Chief Zaldo."

They nodded.

"I have a special assignment for you. We've gotten word that the arsonist may be attacking the courthouse next. We need you to scope out the place and put out the fire."

"Not stop the fire?"

"No. These people, or this person, might be dangerous. Just put it out, don't engage. Try to catch their face."

Linh nodded. She...wasn't great at taking orders, but she could try.

"Do you know when this is happening?"

"Three days. We hope to get more details soon."

"Who's your source?"

"Confidential information. Now go back out there, the folks will get suspicious soon."

"They don't know?"

"You ask a lot of questions, Song,"

"I have the right. Are...are you sure something bad won't happen, Chief?"

Zaldo sighed.

"No. No, I'm not."

~*~

Linh sat in the parking lot of the building next to the courthouse in the most nondescript car she could obtain.

... That being her own. The higher ups didn't exactly give her department the most funds. That went straight to the police sector. She stared at the news on her phone as reports came in of a protest across town. If she wasn't stuck in a stuffy government provided position she'd be down there with them.

She looked out the window once again. So far there were no signs of the arsonists yet.

She sipped on her mostly milk coffee. This seemed like it was going to be a long night.

~*~

At nearly three a.m. Linh awoke to a warm glow outside her car.

Shit.

Her orders from the Chief Had been forgotten completely. Without hesitation, she sprung from her seat and looked around frantically for the culprit.

There. A small figure was running away from the blaze. Linh chased.

"Hey! Kid! Get back here!"

The figure kept running. She couldn't blame them. She would too.

Luckily she was significantly taller than the person and caught up quick. It was probably very ill-advised, but she tackled them to the ground.

So much for "do not engage."

In the light of the still raging fire she saw that the apparent arsonist was a girl. She was about Linh's age with blonde hair and pretty eyes and-

CHRIST! LINH, SHE'S A SERIAL ARSONIST, GET IT TOGETHER.

Linh shook off her brief moment of lesbian brain fog.

"Who are you and why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same." the blonde girl looked in her eyes with a challenge.

"Only one of us was just caught in the act. You're going to jail."

"Am I?"

In one swift movement the girl shifted so she was on top of the pin.

"Welp, I'm going to head out now. Good luck with that fire."

She got up. Linh was still frozen in place as she ran away.

She turned around mid run and paused.

"Oh, the name's Marella. Not Mare, not Ella, no nicknames. Make sure you tell the papers that."

With a wink she was gone.

~*~

Linh sat in the Chief's office, twiddling her thumbs until they got there.

She had put out the fire that night. In fact, a lot of the structure of the courthouse was saved. When she came into work the next day she was welcomed with a warm applause.

When they walked into the room, she stood respectfully. Before she could greet them, they started talking.

"Song, how'd it go? Did you get any info?"

"Um...no, no I didn't. They must've run the other way."

"Dammit. That's okay. The fire's out, that's what matters. The cops can do the rest."

"Yeah, I guess." Linh couldn't meet their eyes.

~*~

Marella looked over the morning paper with disappointment.

"What's up?" Sophie said as she peered over her shoulder.

"They didn't even mention the fire, I made it extra dramatic and everything."

"Oof, guess we have to try again."

"Ugh." Marella flicked her wrist and set the paper to flame, it turned to ash as it hit the floor, "I'm so tired of these assholes. Peaceful protests don't work, aggressive protests don't work. These council bitches are stubborn. Our requests are reasonable, but nooooooo. Can't even let us have a real say in who controls everything."

Sophie hummed noncommittally.

"Like I said, we have to try again. Fill the skies with smoke, they have to notice eventually. Just like Forkle always tells us. Oh, and it's your turn to empty the dishwasher today by the way, Biana said she would put them all in your bed if you forget again,"

Marella waved her off, returning to her black coffee.

~*~

The next day, Marella went through the same motions as usual. She had leaked where she would be lighting up again, the first time was a risk but if all their cops were like the last she'd be perfectly fine.

And if it was the same cop...more than perfectly fine.

As she hauled the boxes of files out of the city hall she noticed a particular car sitting in the parking lot.

Guess she would see her favorite officer today.

Soon after the blaze started building, the woman got out of her car. Marella didn't run away this time, rather walked towards her.

"Lovely night isn't it?'

"You again."

"The one and only." Marella turned to her blaze. "Strangely beautiful, don't you think?"

"Yeah... I mean no- I mean-" The woman sighed. "Why are you doing this?"

Marella shrugged. "Well, it's simple. Peaceful protests seem useless at the moment so we're taking a more hands-on approach."

"No, why are you doing this? Not this...group, if there is one, why are you risking your freedom for this?"

"What freedom?"

Marella walked to her car. As she drove away she saw a large wave come from the fire hydrant, putting out the building in one go.

~*~

As Linh walked into the office, Zaldo already sat at their desk.

"Song, did you find anything this time?"

"No, I didn't, I'm sorry."

They sighed, putting their face in their hands.

"Song, I'm giving you one more chance. You're clearly determined, and to me the stealth angle seems best. But if this fails? We're going to the police,"

"Yes, Chief."

With a nod they gave permission for her to leave. She stood in the hallway for a moment, knowing what she had to do next but not knowing if she had the courage to do it.

~*~

Linh stood at the house's front door. She had chased down arsonists and saved kids from blazing fires and yet this was still the scariest thing she'd ever done.

She rang the doorbell. Maybe he wasn't home. Maybe she wouldn't have to do this.

The door opened.

In front of her stood the grown-up form of the teenage boy she had left Tam as. He still had his trademark silver bangs, apparently he hadn't cut his hair very much since they were kids. She had gotten rid of the silver long ago, dyed hair doesn't go over too well in the corporate world and her shoulder-length bob was much more practical than her long hair.

"Hello,"

"Long time no see," Tam's voice had an annoyed sound to it. "Came here to tell me 'Tam! You shouldn't mess around with that Black Swan stuff! They might be dangerous!' Again?"

Tam's impression of her voice was crude, unfortunately that was a direct quote from the last time they had talked right before their falling out. He always could hold a grudge.

"Well, um, actually, uhh... I mean sort of,"

Tam sighed.

"You know what? Whatever,"

He brought her into a tight hug.

"Come in, lecture me as much as you want, I'm not risking another 8 years without talking to the only family I have left,"

"I'm sorry about that, by the way," She said, crossing through the door and sitting on the couch.

"It's ok, you tried to make contact, I was being the asshole."

"I love you, asshole,"

"I love you more, dumbass. Now, go ahead and get your lecture started while I make us some coffee."

"Look, that arson stuff that's going on. Is that...you guys?"

He stopped mid coffee ground scoop.

"Considering you're with the government, it doesn't seem wise for me to confirm or deny,"

"Tam, I'm trying to help I swear. I just wanted to say that if it is then you should stop, I can only buy time for so long before the police are brought in,"

He put his hand on the counter, back still facing her.

"Are you threatening to call the cops? Well, we're not going to stop. It's not our fault that after years of our society abusing you, you decided to help it,"

"Tam I-"

"No. We've fought too long for what we want and you've worked too hard to make everyone forget you had a twin. I think it's best if you leave, Linh. Fitz is going to be home soon and he's heard too much to be fond of you."

"Fitz?"

"My boyfriend. Should be husband by now but your dear councillors aren't letting that happen any time soon."

"Tam, please, it's not like that I-"

"Please go. Right now. You know where to find me."

Linh nearly said something else, she wanted to argue, wanted to make sure she wouldn't lose her brother again.

Instead, she left without another word.

~*~

Linh stood outside the back of the new makeshift city hall (which was just an old fire department building repurposed) anxiously tapping her foot, waiting for Marella.

Soon enough a car pulled up and the petite woman got out of her car.

"Heya! You're waiting for me this time, that's new. What changed?"

Linh sighed.

"Look, you have to cut this stuff out. I- the police-"

"I don't care about the police. Lock me up, you have me right here officer,"

She extended her wrists straight out, offering to be handcuffed.

"I'm not a cop,"

"Really? Are you just an excitable citizen then? I thought you were just absolute shit at your job,"

Linh cracked a small smile but repressed it quickly.

"I'm a fire investigator...okay technically I'm just a firefighter but they needed more people,"

Marella cocked her head to the left.

"So none of this is even part of your job? You get paid more right?"

"Well no but-"

The girl opposite of Linh doubled over in laughter.

"Oh gosh lady you're just as bad off as the rest of us! No wonder you haven't done anything to stop us. Speaking of, scoot over, I have a fire to start,"

"No. Like I was trying to say you have to knock this off. They were trying to be stealthy but since I haven't given them any information they're sending in the cops if I don't get anything this time."

"You're trying to save my ass?"

Linh felt her face start to burn.

"Well um..."

"What's your name Miss Not-Even-A-Fire-Investigator?"

Linh sighed.

"It's Linh. Linh Song."

"Song? Like..." She trailed off, thinking for a moment. "No fucking way. You're the sister Tam always talks about. You know, putting me in cuffs won't do any harm to your brother, I'm no snitch."

"Tam has made it very clear he doesn't want my protection,"

"Why are you doing this then? You're risking your job, your...everything really,"

"I don't know,"

There was a tense silence. Marella stared her down, it was like she could see right through her into her soul.

"Linh, let me into the building,"

Linh didn't know why she moved. She didn't think she ever would know.

But she watched wordlessly as the files were taken out, loaded into a car, and then Marella walked a decent way from the building and tossed a ball of fire.

The building went up quick. It felt wrong to just stand there but...the fire was very pretty.

Soon enough Marella joined her in watching the blaze. They were wordless for a good while.

"We should get out of here soon. Someone's bound to notice the smoke," Linh was starting to get anxious.

"We? You don't have to wait for me, Linh. You have your own car,"

"Yes, I know,"

They were silent for another minute.

"Tam talks about how much he misses you, like a lot. Normally when he's drunk but still. He'd um... I think he'd like it if you um..."

"Yeah..."

Linh thought. And then she thought some more. What did she have to lose? She didn't have friends, or family, she went home every day to a mediocre apartment she could barely afford. She was underpaid and overworked.

"I want to join you,"

"You know, you said it yourself, you're risking your freedom,"

"What freedom?"

Marella smiled.

"Well, in that case, go home and get your things packed up. Meet me at the diner on 5th street tomorrow at noon. You might want to quit your job, we don't need a missing persons case on our hands."

"Be honest, is this a bad idea?"

"It depends how much you have going for you, but considering you're willing to run off to an undisclosed location with an arsonist I'm guessing you don't have much to lose. No offense," Marella looked panicked at what she said.

"None taken. Don't worry, I'm on my own. No wife and children or anything."

"Same,"

A siren wailed a few blocks away.

Marella smiled again. Wow, her smile was beautiful.

"Welp, see you tomorrow,"

"Yeah,"

Linh watched her walk away, a dorky grin on her face the whole time, before realizing she should probably get out of there before the police caught up.

~*~

The next day, Linh stood in the parking lot of the small diner. The only things with her a small backpack and a crate with Princess Purryfins, her murcat, inside. She didn't even take her car, rather walking the whole way.

Soon enough, a familiar car pulled up next to her and Marella got out.

"Is that it?" Marella pointed to her bag.

"Yep, like I said, no wife and kids or anything,"

"Yes but most people have, I don't know, clothes?"

"Swiftly changing the subject, I have a couple questions,"

"Shoot,"

"Since I'm not working anymore, how...exactly will I stay, y'know, alive and fed?"

Marella laughed. Linh knew that even if her answer was 'you won't, we live in the woods and you're our next dinner' Linh would still follow her if she was promised she'd hear that laugh again.

"Well, frankly I shouldn't be saying this in a public space, but we have allies in high places. They fund us,"

Linh nodded as if she understood fully.

"Any other questions?"

"None worth asking,"

"Cool, ready to go?"

Linh nodded again, tongue-tied from anxiety.

~*~

Nearly an hour later, they pulled up to a building in a rural part of the county. It seemed cozy enough, plenty land to be a farm though there were no animals. A small pond out to the side of a cabin that had clearly been added onto to make significantly larger.

As they walked up to the door, Marella pulled out an odd key with a swan insignia painted on the grip.

"Here is your new home for...as long as you choose to stay. You can always go out and get your own house if you want, but only paid with cash and no renting. We have to stay off the grid as much as possible,"

Linh just nodded again.

"You've been quiet," Marella pointed out.

"Yeah I'm just...it's been a lot,"

"I know, I'm sorry, you can still turn back,"

Linh shook her head.

"No, I'm committed now. I already sent the letter quitting my job,"

Marella gave her a sympathetic look.

"Alright, your room is down the hall, third to the left. I'll be upstairs if you need me. We're having a meeting tonight over dinner, then you can see everyone,"

Linh smiled politely, but started tearing up when she was left to find her room. What was she doing? Getting involved with an illegal organization against the government.

Ah the extents she would go to for a pretty girl. And nice. And funny. And smart.

Ugh. Cute girls would be the death of her.

~*~

Marella tapped her fingers on the table, waiting impatiently for the meeting to start.

Most people were there and she had introduced Linh to them.

Well, everyone but Tam and Fitz, who weren't there yet like the late-ass bastards they were.

Marella sat right next to the very quiet Linh, she seemed completely resigned about the whole ordeal. It had to be a very strange day for her.

Forkle stood up at the head of the table, tapping a glass with his dinner knife as if to get everyone's attention, even though the room was mostly silent.

"Good evening everybody! Today we have been joined by the lovely Ms. Song. Unfortunately we have not been blessed by the appearance of her brother as is usual of him."

Marella and the rest of her colleagues chuckled, Linh didn't.

As if on a timer, the door opened.

"Well speak of the devil," Forkle said, turning around to peer at the men in the doorway.

Tam's eyes went wide at the sight of Linh. He quickly ran over and scooped her into a hug.

Their conversation was quite long and very quiet, even for someone right next to them. All Marella caught was "I promise I won't leave again, I love you asshole," Linh came away with a slight sparkle of tears in her eyes.

After they broke apart, Forkle continued.

"Okay, now that we're done with that sweet moment, it's time for the boring stuff. It'd come to our realization that we can't continue on as we have been. We need something new to grab their attention. Anyone have a suggestion?"

The table was silent.

"Ms. Song? Perhaps you're more diligent than these kids,"

"We're very much adults, thank you very much," Keefe piped up.

"Mr. Sencen, when was the last time you changed the oil in your car?'

"...touché,"

Forkle sighed, and after a moment Linh started talking.

"I was thinking...all this fire stuff probably isn't great for the environment and stuff. And, well, water should work just as well. But, I mean, I don't want to impose-"

Squall cut in. "Ms. Song that's a great idea, we can cause just as much destruction with less harm and throw them off,"

Everyone around the room nodded their agreements and Marella nudged Linh's arm.

"See? You're fitting in already, nothing to worry about,"'

Linh smiled.

~*~

Linh sat at the edge of the pond, making small ripples in the water and looking at the fish. A toad croaked in the distance.

She didn't know if she was supposed to be out here, or if there were any rules at all. It didn't seem so, of all the people she'd met so far they treated this base like their home.

She felt a tap on her shoulder that made her nearly jump out of her skin. When she turned around she was expecting Tam or someone on their 'Collective' or whatever. Turns out, it was just Marella. She sat next to Linh on the bank.

"Told ya' everything would go fine,"

"You told nothing of the sort,"

"I was thinking it,"

Linh chuckled. "Yeah, it was fine,"

"So, what's your first impression of the gang?"

"Sophie and Dex seem nice, I'm a bit concerned for Keefe's car's health, I don't think Fitz likes me very much..."

"They can take some getting used to,"

"Mhm," Linh mumbled before they fell back into silence.

"So..." Marella said after a while. "Do you think you'll stay? Here at the base I mean,"

"For a bit. I don't exactly have an apartment anymore and this is way better than the one I had anyway. Just until I can get back on my feet by myself,"

"You can really stay as long as you'd like. Most people have their own homes but quite a few stay here. Sophie, Biana, and I do, at least,"

"Then maybe I'll stay a while,"

"I'd like that,"

Linh felt Marella's body heat get a lot hotter just then. She couldn't quite see in the moonlight but she guessed she was...blushing?

"I um... I was thinking um...that...um," Marella seemed to continue to heat, Linh was concerned she was going to catch fire. "I was thinking that maybe we could um...go out sometime? I- I mean as a date, o-or as friends if you don't-"

"I'd love to,"

Marella sighed in relief. "I didn't expect that to go well, honestly,"

Linh laughed. "Well, how does tomorrow at 8 sound? We can go to that pottery place on 2nd street, I think they mostly do kid's birthdays but that's never stopped me before,"

"Sounds great, it's a date,"

"It's a date,"

Linh almost just got up but hesitated for a moment. She quickly pecked Marella on the cheek before going back to the house as fast as possible. She almost thought she saw the light of a fire in the corner of her eye.

~*~

The beep-like news theme comes on followed by the announcer.

"Tonight on the 7 o'clock nightly news with Jennifer Watson"

The woman on T.V. straightens her papers.

"The two silvered-hair bandits known as the "Trouble Twins" by the public are still escaping the police's grasp. They have flooded two government buildings this week and don't seem to be intending to stop any time soon. They claim all they want is to have a proper negotiation with our lawmakers. Will the council respond to these vigilantes? Or will they continue to let our buildings be destroyed? And coming up next, this video of Bobo the panda has the internet going wild-"

Marella turned off the T.V. and slouched further on the couch. She bit into her apple, unamused.

"Babe, you have to be patient. We're getting closer, Councilor Oralie said she was going to introduce the idea of negotiation, it'll be ok,"

Linh's words helped but Marella was still unsure.

Linh sat back on the couch and nudged her.

"There's nothing to worry about, c'mon, give me a smile,"

Marella couldn't help but grin at the dork she called her girlfriend.

"There it is! Dinner will be ready in like...5 minutes so," Linh took away Marella's apple, "Then we can go meet up with Tam to fuck up the Tribunal Hall,"

"Sounds like a lovely night,"

Linh laughed.

"I love you, you know that?"

"We do say it to each other quite often,"

"Yes but I don't know," Linh looked down at her lap. "It's been almost a year and... I guess I thought I'd regret joining you guys at some point but I never have,"

"Well, I am quite charming,"

"She says, as she slowly slides off the couch,"

Indeed, Marella was now halfway to the floor. Linh just laughed.

~*~

"Order in the court!" Councilor Emery slammed down the gavel.

Bronte rolled his eyes. Ever since they decided to cut the telepathic communications (Emery's migraines were getting bad) he had been using that stupid thing.

"Today the council will be voting on one thing, are we willing to listen to the Black Swan's pleas? Or do we attempt to wrangle them?"

Everyone around the room scratched on their piece of paper with the old-fashioned and unwieldy fountain pens. Bronte already knew what his vote would be, he had many conversations with the Forkle brothers in the past, now down to one. It was an easy decision.

Once all the votes were in the box, Emery started counting. He sighed.

"And, with a close vote of 7 to 5, we will be attempting to negotiate with the vigilante group," He pounded the gavel again. "Meeting adjourned,"

Oralie gave Bronte a thumbs up from across the room. He rolled his eyes again, but fondly this time.

~*~

BAM BAM BAM.

The gavel was loud, Linh didn't like it, her anxiety was high enough that day, the stimulation of it all was too much.

Marella gently held her hand under the table.

"Order in the court!"

Sure, "court", not like they were sitting in the community center because they hadn't managed to rebuild the actual places of court yet, not at all.

"Today we have gathered to discuss many things. First, on the agenda is discussing giving citizens the right to vote as a democracy. Then, the details of a possible police reform and redistribution of funds. Finally, on what the current legal definition of marriage is, and the possibility of changing that."

Tam caught Linh's eye from across the room, he nodded at her.

Now, the real fight began.

#kotlc fic #marelinh #marella redek #linh song #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #hnng this took so long if it flops ill cry i think

[sarcasticmudkip]

Alright my dudes, gals, and pals, it’s time for refrigerated cake!

I was taking some pictures to show one of my friends how to make a good ol’ fridge cake, so I might as well also present my creation to all of tumblr too

You like fruit? You like sugar? You like an easy to make, 4 ingredient, cool and refreshing cake receipe? Well have I got the cake for you!

You will need:

14 oz (one can) of condense milk

8 oz of any all-purpose cream

Roughly 12 rectangles of grahmcrackers

A bunch of fruit of your choice (recommended: peaches, mangos, and/or strawberries)

Folks, you are about to create one of the most refreshing cakes of your life. Not only are the ingredients good together, but you can customize the steps to your preference.

You want thicc cake? Sure! Want a butt load of sugar? No problem! Want chunky bits? Or perhaps you prefer a smooth, airy consistency? We got it all, folks!

Refrigerated Cake: it’s so easy to make you don’t even need to remember a receipe.

But I’m gonna tell you the steps anyway because half of you have ADHD like me, SO...

STEP ONE: Blend/mix together all your condensed milk and cream.

When you mix them all up, make sure it’s thorough

If you’re blending, I recommend that you keep the blender at a low level, for two reasons.

First, Keeps the mixture nice and airy, specially if you used whip cream

Second, during this stage you have the options to throw in some of your fruit.

Essentially, what you’re making here is the icing that isn’t icing. Or is it batter... idk I’m not a cake expert because this is a refrigerated cake! In essence, this is the glue that’s gonna keep your whole cake together

So here’s that customization I’m talking about. Maybe you want some more fruit flavor, go ahead and chuck some mangos in the blender. Maybe you’re a bit more spicy and want TWO types of fruits. Go ahead, let ‘em in. It’s impossible to mess up because you pretty much ahve 5 ingredients tops and there’s no fire to mess up. So long as you got that cream and condensed milk mixed, you’re good

Personally, I like my batter thing to have the chunky little fruit bits in there, I threw in a small handful of mango chunks along with like five strawberries. To keep those bits intact, I kept my settings low, and let the blender do it’s thing

Now I’m left with this beautiful batter/icing that’s not icing to make my fridge cake with. Taste yours, go ahead, it should be pretty sweet

STEP TWO: Lay the ground work, get yourself a stone foundation. Did ya pay attention in Sunday School, kids? ‘Course you didn’t, that’s what I’m here for.

Anyhow, it’s very hard to mess this part up, but I messed up anyway and I’m a fridge cake expert so don’t feel bad if you screw it up. You just gotta lay down a layer of graham crackers in a large container.

Don’t get picky with the symmetry and aesthetics, we’re gonna drown them later on. Just make sure you got a nice rock hard foundation layer of graham crackers

STEP THREE: The Layering begins. See that bowl/blender full of sugar and fruits you just made? Well, now we’re gonna pour half of it right on these graham babies

DO NOT POUR IT ALL

I mean, theoretically you could, but then this would be more of a pudding than a cake. Eh, up to you. But if you really want those cake-like layers, then just pour around half of your batter/icing that’s not icing, or just eyeball it so that all the crackers are covered evenly

You’ll see from my pictures that I eyeballed it

STEP FOUR: Fruits and geometry. Don’t worry, you don’t need to know actual geometry, what do I look like, your math teach?

Just slice up your fruit and place it on top of your (now deliciously covered) graham crackers

You want your layers big and chunky? Then slice your fruits up nice and thick and stick ‘em on

You want thin layers, and don’t want that much fruit? Fruit Ninja it up and slice your babies paper thin.

I’d recommend not over doing it quantity wise for your fruits, as otherwise it’ll be harder to do the top layer, and it’ll be more difficult to slice, but again, it’s all up to personal preference!

For mine, I sliced both my mangoes and strawberries (because I’m just that good baby) into two, and left them in little stripes

STEP FIVE: The Layering, Part 2: Electric Boogaloo

Get some more graham crackers, and cover up all the fruit you just laid out. This is to get you that layer cake effect for when it’s finished

My picture here just shows me putting the graham crackers on, but don’t forget to POUR THE OTHER HALF OF YOUR BATTER/ICING THAT’S NOT ICING on top

STEP SIX: The fork in the road

And now is the part where you little birds are free to fly. You can continue repeating the previous steps to add another layer. And then another, and another, and continue adding to your hearts content

Or, you can be content with these two graham crackers layers, like the coward you are

[Or maybe you’re like me, and you ran out of ingredients or your container is too small for additional layers, no judgement!]

Now, let your presentation shine. Top off your cake with some fruit slices, some extra graham crackers, hell, drizzle some honey or whipped cream or chocolate or whatever you want, I don’t care

STEP SEVEN: Consumption. You have around three options here:

You can eat it raw. I mean, no ones stoping you, and you probably won’t get sick... probably...

Although if you do that it’s still more of a pudding than a cake cause when you slice it, it’s not gonna hold

So alternatively, as the name implies, you can chuck this bad boy in your fridge and let it sit for a few hours.

You can also place it in your freezer, (a surprising option I know, since this is called the refrigerated cake) if you’re ok with the contents being a bit more dense

But the options are all up to you, and your preference of how cold and dense you want your cake

Personally, I chuck mine in the freezer over night. If I’m impatient I’ll count down around six to eighth hours. That way it’s perfect for when I take it out and slice me a piece to eat on a summer day...

Badabing, badaboom. Congratulations! You just made the easiest cake ever. No arson or timers required! :D

#refridgerated cake #recipe

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

i would kill for some fail bros headcanons

[Hey, Anon! I'm kind of passionate about these three, so I'm giving you a heads up that this one is kind of long. Hope you enjoy~]

From a “nation” standpoint, England is the eldest of the three. He recognized his spark of sovereignty when King Ecgberht ascended to the throne of Wessex in 802, who would later go on to claim Kent, Sussex, Surrey, and Essex as part of his kingdom; Ecgberht is often regarded as the “first king of England.”

For Denmark, his sovereignty came with the crowning of King Harald Bluetooth around 950, who completed the goal of unifying the region into a single state. Before that point, Denmark existed more or less as a smattering of small communities led predominantly by local chieftains.

Prussia didn’t fully recognize his sovereignty or nationhood until around 997, when the Aesti- Old Prussians- slayed  Adalbert of Prague, a missionary who had been sent by Polans to try to convert the “heathens” to Christianity. It was only one of many attempts to conquer the Prussians, but with Adalbert earning a martyrdom, and such a blatant show of sedulous autonomy, the first spark of nationalism truly ignited.

Not that much of this mattered in regards to their friendship though. 

Through the Saxons, Arthur and Gilbert had been friends since the 700s at least, and Arthur and Mathius had known each other for even longer, the Jutes having first made an appearance on the Isles around late 400, when Arthur was still part of Rome’s territories. Mati and Gil were practically next door neighbors; I wouldn’t be surprised if Germania had pretty much raised them together.

Despite a lot of shifting borders and conflicts of interest- like Denmark ruling England from 1013-1042, or how Denmark lost both Holstein and Scleswig to Prussia in 1864, and England and Prussia’s on-again, off-again alliance- they’ve remained fast, firm friends for centuries.

Truth be told, I think Mati was the one to get Artie so addicted to sailing, most likely dragging him on a few coastal raids back in the day.

Hamburg is one of their favorite meeting places. Initially, it was more convenient for Gil and Artie, as it was one of the central cities in the Hanseatic League, but the real draw came with the 1500s, when there were over 500 breweries for them to sample. These days, it’s more nostalgia that keeps drawing them back.

Actually, this is part of a tradition that still stands to date; with some rare exceptions (like this one tavern on Bornholm that’s been serving the same Brennivin recipe for the past 463 years), they rarely go to the same pub, distillery, or brewery twice. There are just so many of them.

These three try to meet up at least one weekend a month, if not more. Gil has it a lot easier working out his schedule these days, for obvious reasons, so normally he will crash with either Mati or Artie and the other will show up when they can.

Friday nights are usually their “drink nights,” and they’ll usually bicker for a good hour about which pub or club they want to try; all of these nerds had lists ready of venues they had looked up in advance. They also spend another hour or so bickering about which of them has the best beer.

When they’re together, they completely shrug off their more responsible images- Arthur in particular seems almost a 180 degree shift in personality. Around most nations, he tries to keep that prim and proper persona, but… Mathius and Gilbert are not most nations.

These three have crusaded to the Holy Lands together, harassed most of Northern Europe together, even spent a few precious months pretending to be humans and traveling the world together. They’ve sworn blood oaths under scarlet skies, literally sewn each other back together on occasion.

They really share most everything with one another- from matters of the heart to political problems to those dark desires they really can’t tell anyone else about- knowing that anything shared among them will never be discussed outside of their circle.

Usually, they don’t let themselves get drunk. But really- They don’t need alcohol to become total hooligans. Mathius is naturally high energy, and with Gilbert’s simmering competitiveness and Arthur’s pride keeping him from ever backing down from a challenge…

The shenanigans these three get up to can range from pranking Mati and Artie’s former colonies to strip karaoke to sometimes, quite literally, painting the town, and then some.

They have a few reprimands for breaking and entering, and perhaps there were one or two cases of arson, or a few protests that got a tad chaotic… 

Despite having more than enough beds for each of them, they usually end up falling asleep in a giant heap.

Arthur is loath to ever actually admit how safe he feels knowing the other two are there to watch his back, though Mathius is always very open about actually expressing the exact same sentiment.

Gilbert is usually the last one to drift off and always the first to wake up; he mastered some killer hangover remedies a few decades ago, and while he knows the others are perfectly capable of making breakfast without burning the house down, it’s his way of showing how much he cares.

Sometime after they’ve nursed the remnants of their hangovers, they usually go shopping for food together, all of them chipping in on a big dinner for that night.

Said shopping trips go about as well as you’d expect: Artie usually pretends he has no idea who Gil and Mati are as they piggyback through the aisles, Arthur and Mathius bicker constantly about the proper ways to eat eel (which always traumatizes Gilbert), and Prussia constantly is making bad puns with England about the different brand names, much to Denmark’s irritation because he can’t quite keep up. 

Just fucking getting to the store was a quest on its on; buying themselves actual food before getting kicked out is another challenge entirely.

They absolutely are down for cultural and music fests, theatre, boating, or even just reading together.

They totally do LARPing together, and try to attend either ConQuest or Drachenfest each summer.

There is often an attempt to play football when they have an hour or so to kill, though it typically ends up as a brawl with two of them (usually Mati and Gil) starting a giant game of keep away against the other (usually Artie). They’ve lost count of how many grass stains they gained in the process.

They’re each hella supportive of the others’ interests, and often you can find them laying on the grass or a roof somewhere having long-winded discussions about the arts, literature, science, philosophy, and on one particularly snowy night in 1989- what happens when they die. 

In fact, the only two people Gil ever really confides in about his fears are Artie and Mati. With Ludbug, he just can’t risk the thought of hurting him or burdening him, and with Fran and Toni, he’s scared they’ll- He can’t always handle how open those two are with their worry for him.

He knows that Mathius and Arthur won’t pity him, per say. Bleeding hearts the three of them, but they know when, and when not, to show it.

Arthur and Mathius made it their goal through the entirety of the 1990s to make sure Gilbert understood just how damn important he was to them, stealing him away as often as they could get away with, doing everything from a sailing trip around the Orkneys (and annoying Alisdair to no end) to camping in Scharbeutz for two weeks straight to trying (and horribly failing) to form a band around ‘94. 

The band didn’t work out mostly because they all have different music tastes- Artie fell deep into the punk scene and never climbed back out, Gil’s taste falls somewhere between heavy and folk rock, and Mati is very passionate about symphonic and alternative rock. Also, meeting up for practices as frequently as they needed was nigh on impossible. Still, sometimes they do get together just to jam for a bit.

Mati and Gil are the only two people actually allowed to call Arthur by “Iggy" and not get a black eye.

They love playing board games with each other, everything from Cards Against Humanity to Crazy Cat Lady to Risk. They tend to avoid the latter however as they all get rather… intense with their gameplay.

Really though, all they need is a deck of cards and they’ll easily get invested into a game of Slap Jack or Go Fish.

I am willing to bet they swapped parenting tips through the ages, each of them freaking out because "holy fuck I am not qualified for this!"

They have several dozen inside jokes at this point, the kind that if one says anything they all eventually will succumb to tears of laughter.

No one else really makes Arthur laugh as quickly as those two, no one else really sees Mathius as pensive and philosophical, and no one else really sees Gilbert completely letting his guard down.

With each other, they are, have been, and always will be Arthur, Mathius, and Gilbert.

They trust each other unconditionally, and know that, no matter the politics, they’ll always be there to support one another, no matter how silly the shenanigans or serious the situation may be.

[This was so long, omg. Thanks for the ask, Lovely!

If anyone is interested in any sources for further reading on their own, let me know! I got quite a lot of this from textbooks, articles, and encyclopedias ^_^; ]

#hi anon i am so weak for this trio #bad brothers trio #aph england #aph denmark #aph prussia #aph england headcanons #aph denmark headcanons #aph prussia headcanons #aph arthur kirkland #hetalia arthur kirkland #arthur kirkland #mathius køhler #aph mathius kohler #hetalia mathius kohler #hetalia gilbert beischmidt #gilbert beilschmidt #aph gilbert beilschmidt #hetalia history #history stuff #england #prussia #denmark #anon ask #thanks anon! #anonymous asks #thank you anon #hetalia headcanons #imagine hetalia #hetalia imagines #fail brothers trio

[divineluce]

An Impasse || Solomon & Luce

Timing: November 13th

Location: The Outskirts

Tagging: @shroomsbysolomon & @divineluce

Description: Solomon and Luce officially meet for the first time. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

For the third night in a row, Luce laced up her shoes and exited the Vural home. Her homecoming had been… rocky at best. A shitshow at worse. And, what with all of the bullshit she’d found out regarding Nadia, Remmy giving her shit for leaving, and the goddamn menagerie of animals in her room, sleeping was pretty much out of the question. Which left her with two options-- hit up Soul and risk running into frankly Frank again, or go for a run. It was a no-brainer. Jogging into the woods, she made her way through the familiar trails that wound their way behind Bea’s home. She’d run them so often that, even after spending a month out of town, she still remembered every curve and turn in the path. It was easy, it was simple, it was going through the motions. She could do that, right? And then, once she could do that, maybe things would get better. As she ran, Luce noticed a figure off the path, illuminated in the waning moonlight and she slowed to a stop. “You lost there?” She asked, squinting through the darkness.

Solomon had a bad habit of losing himself in whatever he was doing, hyper-focusing to the point that he’d forget the world around him until something demanded his attention. In this case, it was an unexpected voice, jarring him out of whatever reverie he’d fallen into and urging him to whip around, clasping his hands behind his back to hide their wooden appearance as he stammered and stalled. “Oh! No, I, uhh…” His struggle to find the right words seemed to lose importance as he took in the visage of the woman on the trail, and something inside of him got all twisted up. It took a few beats for him to be able to place the sudden rush of emotion, not knowing who she was or why he should suddenly feel… fear? But then it came to him, and all at once, that fear was intermingling with anger. “You,” he grumbled, standing up from his crouch and taking a step toward her. He’d seen what she had done in the forest… and the only reason she still stood was because he had also witnessed her pitiful attempt at making amends. It was enough to stay his hand, but the bitter tang of resentment never left his tongue. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, burning the woods like you did.” His typically soft voice was harsher now, still low in volume, but it carried a distinct edge. “I’m still trying to repair the landscape. What’s your problem?”

As the man stammered for a moment, Luce rested her hands on her hips, waiting for him to finish his sentence. It was a bit too dark for her to get a good look at him, but she could tell he wasn’t some lost hiker. For one, no one came hiking around here, not at this time of night. For another, if he wasn’t dressed like one. No backpack, no water bottles, nothing like that. But, then he rose and took a step towards her. Instinctively, Luce’s hands curled at her side, the flames that danced in her blood ready to be called at a moment’s notice. “What the fuck is your problem?” She shot back, startled. Burning the woods? For one thing, how did he know about that? For another, which time was he talking about? One of the many rainy nights when she’d hiked out into the middle of nowhere, to practice her flames? Or when she and Anita had run from the shitty moose creature and she’d lit the brush aflame to escape? Or was it the time she’d razed the ground around her and Adam in the wake of Bea’s death? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Luce lied smoothly.

“Ooohhh, yes you do,” Solomon snapped, his dark eyes narrowing. “I saw you… fleeing the scene, leaving the poor forest in such a state…” It made his heart ache as he recalled the pain he’d felt that night, the sorrow that rose from the ground as it mixed with ash and embers. He was so in tune with the familiar landscape, so very much a part of it, that any damage it suffered bled over to him. It’s why most things never escaped his knowledge, and why he’d had to bloody his hands over the centuries, stopping men from cutting deeper and spreading further. What he couldn’t mention was how his fear had held him back for the first time — seeing that the woman was controlling the fire and not merely setting it free had stopped him in his tracks. If he died, who knew what would happen to the woods? It was too risky, and the damage had been done, so he’d decided to let her go and tend to the charred earth. Letting out a shaky sigh, Solomon appeared to be trying to calm himself, eyes closing while he regained his composure. “But… I saw you trying to make amends, too, so… I suppose it’s a start.” Peering at her once again, the disguised Leshy lifted a finger to point it at her. “Got my eye on you, though…”

As the man glared daggers at her, Luce kept her gaze level. She didn’t give a shit who this guy thought he was, she’d make his night real fucking bad if he decided to try and pull something. But, when he started yelling at her about fleeing the scene, she blinked in confusion. Was he talking about when she’d blown up the Ring with Erin months ago? Or when she’d tried to blow up the shitty mime restaurant? Christ. She really needed to narrow down her arson attempts. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And, even if I did, you’re gonna have to narrow it down.” She said with a shake of her head. The man seemed to be… restraining himself? Like he wanted to move against her? Which would be a bad idea on his part for sure. “What the fuck are you talking about? Are you some kind of stalker? Because you picked the wrong girl for that.”

Stalker? Oh. Solomon drew another weary breath, shaking his head as he pushed his anger aside. “The specifics don’t matter, what does matter is your lack of care when it comes to this place.” He gestured vaguely at the trees that surrounded them, letting his gaze slide away from her for the quickest of moments. “Look, I’m just… all I’m asking is for you to please stop burning it down with your fire… hands.” Whatever you’d call that, he wasn’t sure. He’d never really encountered anything like it before, and he didn’t exactly want to make a habit of it, either. “Lot of things live around here, you know, myself included… and we’re not exactly keen on having our home scorched on the regular.” Truth be told, it was something that half the damn town seemed to need to hear, given their track record. It was exhausting work, trying to keep up with every new threat.

“Uh, it sure fucking does if you’ve been following me around like some kind of creep.” Luce said as she continued to stare at the stranger. As he waved around at the forest and then mentioned her firehands, her eyes narrowed. Had he seen her use her magic before? No, he couldn’t have. For one thing, she covered her bases pretty fucking well. And even if he had, why the fuck was he only just now stopping her. “My fire hands? I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about, dude.” She said, shaking her head as though he was speaking nonsense. “I don’t know what you think I’ve done or what you think you saw, but you’re mistaken.” She replied. She wasn’t sure what this guy’s deal was, but it was easier to deny this than to deal with the repercussions that came with someone finding out she was magically inclined.

“I’m not following you, I live here,” Solomon grumbled in return. “I see most things that happen, whether folks want me to or not.” Her continued rebuttals only made him growl in frustration, hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You make fire. I don’t know how, but you do it in a way that… normal people cannot. Your denial does not change this fact.” He considered for a moment that perhaps she was like him—inclined to keep that aspect of herself secret. “And personally, I’ve nothing to gain from knowing that, I would just like to formally ask you to please stop setting fire to my forest. Take your flames someplace else.” Exasperation radiated off of him, but his gaze was steady. A hundred and fifty years ago, he’d have just slain her on the spot. But… he was trying to be a little kinder about it in this case, especially since she’d come back later to plant seeds. The gesture warranted recognition. 

He lived here? In the fucking woods? Because that was any less creepy than the fact he’d watched her here. Luce bristled a little as he continued to speak. He’d seen her conjure the flames. How? She’d had run-ins with people before, but she’d always been careful to make sure there was nothing that could ever tie her to the blazes she started. People could look for the ignition point, search for the match or the lighter that didn’t exist because she was the spark. And yet, this fucker seemed to know exactly what she could do. “Let’s say I can do what you say I can do.” She said before gesturing around to them. “Where else would I do shit? If I could make fire, I’m not exactly going to just light up the Common.” She said, though the corner of her mouth turned at the idea. That would be funny, if only for the irritation it would no doubt cause her mother. 

Solomon was, by every account, a very calm and level headed creature. That being said, there was one thing he had almost no patience for, and that was the petulance of a young firestarter.  His entire existence revolved around a singular purpose, and he could only bargain for so long with people like her. His anger flared at her casual, careless remark, dark eyes widening slightly in disbelief. “Anywhere else, girl. Have some respect for the natural world — you’d be dead without it.” He’d taken another step toward her by this point, and something in his body language had changed. He moved less like a man, and more like… well, it was hard to say in the dark of night. “Stop killing things and find a way to be useful with your talents, won’t you? You came back to plant seeds, so I know you must feel some amount of remorse. Hold on to that, remember that, and do not light another blaze in these woods ever again. Do you understand me?” He was being rather generous, he thought, but if she pushed him further still, he couldn’t see himself keeping his composure.

At the sound of the word “girl,” Luce’s eyes narrowed. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? Folding her arms across her chest, she felt the heat of her body begin to grow and rise with her increasing anger. “Respect for the natural world? You think I don’t have respect for it?” She said with a growl. “Fire is just as natural as anything else here. What happens to a forest that’s overgrown with brush and shrubs? What happens to the trees when they get overcrowded and parasites begin to take over? Overgrowth saps the life right out of the soil just as much as my fire does.” She said before shoving her hand into the soil beneath their feet. Pulling up a handful of loamy soil, she let it sprinkle from her fingers back on the ground. “Ash feeds the forest, makes space for new things to grow. I planted those seeds because it was what should have happened. Death. Rebirth. Life. And death again.” She spat.

“Fire may be natural, but you are not,” Solomon snapped in return. “Forest fires at the hands of humans are anything but natural.” His relationship with humans had been… a bit tumultuous, over the years. While he found them to be an interesting sort, it was true that they had, time and time again, shown him that they cared not for the earth that had so lovingly lifted them from their evolutionary cradle and taught them how to walk. “It is not for you to decide when that cycle will happen, purely because you have no place else to play with your magic. Insolent… insolent, the lot of you!” His voice had raised in volume and boomed unnaturally around them, anger rushing to the forefront as he relived the countless times he’d seen the land ravaged by humans. All across the continent, as he moved from home to home, he’d encountered ones like her. Or at least, the picture of her that was piecing together in his mind’s eye. He’d slaughtered a whole village for poisoning the nearby river, and while that level of unhinged rage was rare for him, it was far from impossible. His glamour flickered, his focus waning as he became more irate with the woman standing before him. “Humans have been nothing but a blight on this world—you’re parasites, feeding off the land while you expand your rotten towns and cities, razing whole forests to the ground without care! That is not the life of someone who has respect for it.”

Unnatural. Yes, because she was unnatural. Who was he to say these things anyways? Obviously not human, but what was he? “You think I play with magic?” Luce said, temper flaring once more. Magic wasn’t a game, it wasn’t some toy to be played with, something casual to be used and forgotten. “Oh, you couldn’t be more wrong about that.” Magic lived in her, it breathed in her, it was a grounding tether of power that challenged her and demanded her to rise to that challenge. His voice rang through the woods, but Luce held her ground. This man-- no, not exactly man, obviously not. Whatever he was, he yelled at her and she resisted the urge to let her flames ignite. It would be so easy, so, so easy to let the blue flames lick the ground and spread. But. It would only be proving him right. Watching him, Luce caught the shimmer to his appearance, saw it shudder and caught a glimpse of what looked like… mushrooms? She couldn’t be sure, because the image disappeared almost as soon as she saw it. “If I’m a parasite, then what does that make you? If I’m so beneath you, what are you?” She asked, goading him on. What did he think he was, some kind of god?

Upset as he’d become, it didn’t matter to Solomon whether or not he’d accurately judged her entire character; he’d seen what he’d seen, and she seemed to think that setting his wood ablaze was a perfectly acceptable way to kill time, so he had no further words for her. His gaze was fixed steadily on her, eyes narrowed into slits as he stared her down furiously. It wasn’t until she called him out, questioning the authenticity of his appearance, that he faltered. Well, it wasn’t so much that she’d seen something—that was happening increasingly often, as of late—but it was her question that had him tripping over his own tongue. “I don’t—that doesn’t matter,” he growled. He didn’t rightly know, since he’d been forced to live alone as little more than a sapling and had never met another of his kind. “We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you…. and how you really ought to find a better hobby.”

Quirking her eyebrow, Luce heard the misstep in his voice, the falter in his words. “It doesn’t matter?” She repeated, incredulity mixing with venom in her voice. “Oh, so you can dish it but you can’t take it? You can go around, accusing me of being unnatural, calling me out for ‘playing with magic’ but when it gets turned back around, suddenly it doesn’t matter?” She said, nodding. “Well, now, we’re talking about you. Who made you holier than thou? Who crowned you king of the forest? You don’t know anything about what I am, who I am, or what I’m capable of. Because, if you think that me coming out into the forest and setting fire in the middle of thunderstorms is a hobby, you don’t know me as well as you think. Fucking creepy forest stalker or not, you don’t know me.” She shot back. 

Frustration was coming off Solomon in waves, brought to life by both his anger with the individual yelling at him, and his own personal battle of not knowing who—or what—he truly was. He always told himself it didn’t matter, but in situations like these, it certainly seemed to. She was right, he didn’t know anything about her, and he’d never allowed himself the patience to try and change that before judging someone. Perhaps… perhaps he ought to give it a try. New millennium, new Solomon, and all that. Waiting until she was done, his gaze averted for the first time since their heated exchange had begun, Solomon interjected with a wavering voice. “If I had a word for it, I’d tell you,” he muttered, the defeat in his tone barely masked by indignation. “All I do know is that I’ve been alive for almost a thousand years, and I’ve always felt compelled to protect my home and my innocent neighbors from people like you.” On the last, accusatory word, Solomon flicked his dark eyes back toward the woman, brow furrowed. “So tell me… why shouldn’t I see you as a threat to the forest? Why should I give you a pass, when I’ve cut others down for smaller offenses?”

“Sounds to me like you should figure your shit out before you go around throwing words like “unnatural” around.” Luce fired back, not giving up any ground in this verbal sparring match. She really didn’t give a fuck who-- or what-- this guy was. She was tired of being used as someone else’s punching bag. She was tired of being the who had to make amends, who had to apologize, who was wrong. “A thousand years? Well, it seems you’re hardly a judge of character if you’ve been around this fucking long and can’t tell the difference between a pyromaniac and someone who gives a shit about this place. Because, this is probably really fucking surprising to you, but I do. I actually do give a shit about this town and this forest and the people who live here. I know these woods, I know the forest, I know the animals who call it home. Maybe not the way you do, but I know them.” She held up her hands, an innocent gesture. “I owned my shit. You saw me plant those seeds, you said it yourself. I destroyed that part of the forest the night that--” She caught herself. This person, creature, whatever. He didn’t need to know why she’d burnt the forest down. Why it had been grief and fear and sorrow that had turned her flames blue, that kept her flames blue.  “It happened. And that wasn’t right. So, I went back to make it better as well as I could.”

She was a persistent one, and Solomon could feel that it was wearing him down. This conversation was exhausting, and not doing much more than running in circles, so he caved. Deflating, the fae brought a hand to his forehead and let himself slump against the tree behind him. “Fine. Fine,” he muttered in annoyance, shaking his head. “While I can’t imagine that something would ever drive me to hurt this place like you did, I suppose I’ll have to just accept that fact and deal with it. Just… try to refrain from doing it again in the future, alright? It really does take a lot out of me, trying to fix messes like that.” Heaving a sigh, Solomon waved his free hand in the direction she’d been running when they first encountered one another without looking up at her. “Get out of here, go finish your run. You’ve given me a headache.”

“Yeah, you can’t. And, honestly? I hope you never do.” Luce said, remembering the grief that had overwhelmed her that night, when she’d thrown herself into the forest and done her best to run away from the reality of her situation. She’d started running that day and she’d never really stopped, not even now, when it was over. But, it wasn’t over, was it? Shaking her head, Luce focused her attention on the man who was waving her away. While she was glad that this guy was at least giving up with the whole “protector of the forest” act, she wasn’t a fan of the fact that he was telling her what she should do. Hands still up in the air, she flipped him off, the triangle tattoos on her knuckles a nice added touch of irony. “I’m not in the business of making promises to people. I do what I want. But,” She lowered her hands, and offered a single nod, “noted.” With that, Luce turned and continued on her run, not caring what he thought of their encounter. As far as she was concerned, all this meant was she’d discovered a new self-righteous neighbor.

#p: ai #p: solomon hawthorne #chatzy #wickedswriting #//does luce piss off a forest god? we just dont know

[narrowtriangle33-blog]

Please share this article, the GOP is a party that loves Whiteness.

"The historical record suggests otherwise: whiteness was born of violence towards people of color. Whiteness works and is made real through many lies both small and large.

Paul Ryan, like other racists, will deploy the common phrase “I didn’t mean it that way” or “that was not my intention”.

By contrast, the twin facts of white privilege and white racism are not dependent on intent.

The racist cannot tell the victim of the former’s racism how and if they should be offended.

Moreover, Paul Ryan’s claim to have made a mistake will be granted because he is white and male. The errors of prominent (as well as rank and file) African-Americans for example, are never excused away or viewed as aberrations or outliers. No. When black folks are “inarticulate” or “misspeak” the white racial frame deems such moments as indications of incompetence, or proof that people of color are somehow “not qualified” or as “intelligent” as white people."

"The white gaze does not view black Americans as individuals. When a black person makes a mistake it becomes the focus of a “national conversation” about the black community, one in which “black leaders” are forced to publicly explain and condemn the actions of other black people. There is not an equivalent ritual for white people. White conservatives and the white community will not be forced to condemn Paul Ryan. Nor will white people be held publicly accountable for Paul Ryan’s and the Republican Party’s racism.

Whiteness deems that Paul Ryan is a “racial innocent”, an “individual”, and that he should be treated as such.

Paul Ryan and other movement conservatives are racial political arsonists. Ryan’s racist claims about lazy black people with bad genes are a function of a willful political strategy and determined worldview. They are not exceptions, outliers, or bizarre happenings."

"Paul Ryan and other conservatives can claim that they are innocent of their racist political arson. But, they are repeatedly caught, hiding behind the dumpster, or in the bushes, as the building burns. The hand is concealing a lighter. The police approach, shake their heads, and say “you again!”

Paul Ryan and his fellow racial political arsonists in the Republican Party apologize, flummoxed, and indignant with the police that “you have the wrong guy!”

The police will just slap his wrist and say “don’t do it again”. Why? Because Paul Ryan and other racial political arsonists in the Republican Party are really decent people who are just misunderstood."

#humanity #conservatism #conservative #amerika #dear white people #white ppl #white people shit #white people things #white people are crazy

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/8/2020: PELICAN BLOOD (2019)

If you are reading this and the present date is between October 8 and 11 of 2020, please consider buying a virtual ticket to see Katrin Gebbe’s PELICAN BLOOD, available on demand through the Nightstream festival:

https://watch.eventive.org/nightstream/play/5f6e7e78d6a9bf0036613fa3

I am about to discuss this movie and its conclusion in great detail, but it would be much better for a person to come to it in innocence--not because it’s so reliant on anything as gauche as surprise, but because it is so thoroughly excellent that wading through a movie review first would be like letting your dinner grow cold. And, it simply deserves our support.

When I saw PELICAN BLOOD last year at Fantastic Fest, it became one of my favorite movies before it was even over. I might admit that this was sort of a match made in heaven, as this movie checks almost every one of my personal boxes, but I don’t think my assessment of its value is a simple matter of personal prejudice. I’ve been haunted by it all these months, and deeply worried that somehow I might never see it again. When I discovered that it had landed on Nightstream, I was over the moon.

This is writer-director Katrin Gebbe's second feature, a fact that will astonish you when you see it. Last Blogtober, I wrote about her first feature TORE TANZT, which has the troubling english title NOTHING BAD CAN HAPPEN. That intense indie drama concerns a born-again christian punk who wishes for an opportunity to prove his devotion to god, and finds it in the form of a family that invites him in off the streets, and then proceeds to torture him. That's an oversimplification of what actually occurs, but it is a film that's hard to be brief about. It's cheap and a little rough around the edges, but it is deliberate, intense, and difficult to forget. (In fact it's supposed to be based on a true story, although I haven't managed to pick up that trail) When I first saw it, it certainly made me wonder what else that director might be up to, and I was astounded when I found out. 2019's PELICAN BLOOD emerged six years after TORE TANZT, with little in between besides a television episode and a segment in the anthology THE FIELD GUIDE TO EVIL, and yet Gebbe's artistic evolution is dumbfounding. Her themes are all unmistakably present--faith versus doubt, mystical versus metaphorical experience, and physical martyrdom--but exploded into a grand, elegant psychodrama that holds the viewer captive every minute of its two hours.

Celebrated german actress Nina Hoss plays Wiebke, a stable owner who trains police horses to tolerate the frightening conditions of a riot. She lives at the edge of her pasture, raising her tween daughter Nicolina (Adelia-Constance Giovanni Ocleppo) on her own. Wiebke has a talent for healing the wounded, or perhaps it's more of a calling; she raised Nicolina, a bulgarian orphan, into a bright, balanced, emotionally available tomboy, and the two of them joyfully anticipate the arrival of Nicolina's new adoptive sister. When little Raya arrives (Katerina Lipovska), she first presents as sweet, even solicitous, needing only a mother's love to fully bloom. However, as soon as she determines that she is welcome and wanted, she undergoes a disturbing transformation into a violent and unpredictable creature, possessed by an abject hatred. Wiebke recognizes that her new child is seriously traumatized, which activates her sense of purpose, and she pledges herself fully to the child's recovery--despite the admonishments of Raya's daycare, her doctors, and virtually everyone around them, that the little girl is beyond all but clinical help, and even that promises no guarantee of salvation. Refusing to give up, Wiebke makes a series of increasingly dangerous personal sacrifices in Raya's name, until finally she finds herself at the doorway to what some consider another world, but what is to others only madness.

Gebbe won Best Director in the main competition at Fantastic Fest, and it would have been a crime if this were otherwise. Her control over what are essentially forces of nature is humbling. Extracting a profoundly moving drama from a cast of adult actors is challenging enough on its own, but to get these terrifyingly convincing performances from children, evoking deep trauma and physical violence to self and others, is another level. As if this weren't enough, Gebbe adds animals into the mix, giving the story of Raya a parallel in the troubled career of a police horse who is considered a lost cause by all but Wiebke. The training scenes in which Wiebke guides the volatile animal through fire and smoke, while her own lifeforce is being progressively depleted by her new child, are as harrowing as anything having to do with parenthood, and Wiebke seems to take the horse just as seriously as her child. Friendly single dad Benedikt (Murathan Muslu) tries to flirt with the trainer by remarking on her unusual career, but she spits bitterly, "The horses are not the problem," giving us a glimpse of the philosophy that drives her.

Another of my favorite german films is Werner Herzog's 1976 short NO ONE WILL PLAY WITH ME. This funny and poignant story involves a bullied and neglected little boy, and it is preceded by a card displaying the adage "There are no bad children, only bad parents." This is the principle that drives Wiebke in work and life: Those who are seen as failures, have been failed by others. One has the sense that Wiebke sees herself in these wretches. She has no partner, and balks at questions about her relationship history, shying from physical affection even with people she knows and likes. A tell-tale scar graces one cheekbone; when she finally begins to welcome the benign Benedikt's advances, he strokes it instead of kissing her, acknowledging that he can see who she really is.

Wiebke tries to extend this same empathy toward Raya, refusing to let the child bait her into wrath and rejection. However, this show of pure faith and tolerance does not work, and the right approach becomes less clear as Raya begins to blame her mounting acts of vandalism, arson and assault on an evil entity that controls her will. A psychiatrist aprises Wiebke that this is the "magic period", in which the child uses magical thinking to divert feelings of guilt and responsibility. But, after a fashion, Wiebke begins to sense this malevolent presence as well. Is this etheric intrusion real? Or is she beginning to empathize with the child--with the experience of grappling with a damaged part of yourself--to the point of dissolving boundaries?

The title of the movie refers to a fable about a pelican whose chicks die, and she resurrects them by feeding them her own blood. This is a clear metaphor for Wiebke's trial with Raya, that becomes shockingly literal when, after endangering her home and relationships by prioritizing the new child, Wiebke places her own health on the line by taking an unregulated drug to give herself a bizarre advantage. When Wiebke discovers the shocking nature of Raya's original trauma, she experiments with the radical idea of treating the girl like a little baby, hoping to start from square one with her capacity to be mothered, and in the service of this dreadful proposition, Wiebke starts taking a lactation-inducing pill that proves to be an immediate risk to her health, and puts her in an even more perilous position with Raya.

Although it focuses on a preternaturally devoted mother, PELICAN BLOOD recalls what makes movies like HEREDITARY and WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN so potent. We have the idea that in becoming parents, we are perpetuating our own essence, extending our history and celebrating the precious connection of blood, which is supposed to impart an automatic same-ness. Unfortunately, this only shakes out to arrogance for many, denying the quirks of psychology, chemistry, and the unique impact of trauma--even if minor, or explainable as something benign--on a mind too young to fully comprehend the nature of the experience. Even without abuse in the home, anyone can have a child less like themselves than they could have ever imagined, for reasons beyond their own control. In all this, the child is innocent, and it is the duty of the parent to prioritize the child's feelings, over the vanity of wanting an heir to your own best qualities. Wiebke sacrifices not only her vanity, but potentially her very life, to show Raya love. When this blood sacrifice does not work, Wiebke finds herself facing the realm of alternative belief as a last resort.

The introduction of PELICAN BLOOD's folk horror element can seem a little left field, if you haven't noted the clues scattered throughout the film. Before the revelation of Raya's boogeyman, Wiebke begins to discover evidence of an old pagan tradition still being practiced around her proverbial neck of the woods. Soon, she tentatively entrusts herself and her child to a local witch, who puts them through a harrowing exorcism. Though the process is uncertain at first, its impact forces Wiebke into a direct acknowledgment of the entity harassing her daughter. And ultimately, it awakens in Raya a capacity for love.

While the reality of the supernatural in PELICAN BLOOD remains in question, I think the effect of this ambiguity is specifically meaningful. I usually scoff at any type of "was it all a dream?" nonsense, as this is a tactic employed by directors who think their greatest accomplishment should be getting one over on the audience. I don't see any inherent value in simply reversing the apparent meaning of things, just to make people feel stupid--and worse, this has trained modern audiences to try to defensively predict the least likely ending to any story, instead of just engaging with it emotionally as it plays out. For this reality-bending trick to be worth anything, one must be able to answer questions like, IF this was all a dream, THEN what meaning is added to the story?

In PELICAN BLOOD, the unresolved question of whether magic is real is of great relevance to the whole concept of belief. Human beings crave extranormal experience; we're deeply attracted to tales of ghosts, UFOs, mythical creatures, and parapsychological abilities. Even the skeptics among us enjoy arguing about these things, and many regular folks without eccentric interests read their horoscope "just for fun". Most telling of all is the enduring popularity of stories about the strange and unusual, which require no particular belief system from the audience; the fantasy of this extra dimension to our mundane lives is just so satisfying. Despite all the pleasure we get from these ideas, though, we tend to cling first and foremost to objective truth; we tell ourselves that if there is no "proof", then an outrageous thing cannot exist. But, this is actually contrary to many of our lived experiences. On the basest level, we delight at videos of insane parkour stunts, at the same time that we say these guys are "like" superheroes, but are actually just guys. My question is, what's the difference? If a person can achieve physical feats that most of us can never imagine attempting, then what difference does it make that this person was not bitten by a radioactive spider? If a fortune teller in a carnival is so good at "cold reading" strangers that she gives the effect of being able to read minds, then what is the appreciable difference between a carny and a "real psychic"? If a faith healer "just convinces" someone to become free from a chronic ailment, and the patient goes on to live a happier life, who cares if no "real magic" was in evidence? What is the difference between exorcism and hypnosis, if the end result is the same for a seriously disturbed child and her mother? The only difference appears to be some material confirmation of specific mystical forces and substances--which, admittedly, would be exciting on its own--but this would still only be an alternative version of the events that led up to the same "miraculous" result. We only worry about the existence of God and magic because our definitions of these things tend to be limited to what we think of as literal and scientific. But, if the correct effects manifest themselves, then all that is purely cosmetic. Belief is real. Faith works.

#blogtober #2020 #pelican blood #pelican blood 2020 #katrin gebbe #nina hoss #Adelia-Constance Giovanni Ocleppo #Murathan Muslu #Katerina Lipovska #drama #folk horror #witch #witchcraft #exorcism #possession

[the-bard-writes]

The Young Owl, Episode 2, Part 11

When the pair returned to the village, the sun was beginning to set. It was getting to be dinner time, when everybody would be returning home and winding down for the evening. Despite this, the streets were largely empty as the two made their way to the village center.

“Seems odd, such little footfall,” Sparrow observed. “Is it a holiday?”

“Not to my knowledge,” the Owl said, barely paying attention. “Do you think that innkeep will give us a room for the night? I’ll need time and space to brew the extract for both patients.”

“Nyle is good to board us,” Sparrow said. “I’d like to pay him for it, though. I did claim Lodger’s dues with that soup earlier…”

“Right.”

“Don’t want to abuse the privileges of the office and all,” Sparrow jested.

“Right,” Owl repeated.

“You all right, birdie?” Sparrow asked. “You’re not speaking much.”

“Tired,” Owl lied.

“Probably wasn’t too glad that I was right about it being a bad bird and all,” Sparrow guessed.

“Something like that.”

“And… I suppose I did put you through some stress back there,” Sparrow shrugged. “What with that shouting match.”

“You were in the right,” Owl said dryly. “I just didn’t realize it at the time.”

“All the same,” Sparrow said. “Shouldn’t have done it like that. No good for two guilders to fight like that. We haven’t got the same lots in life, that’s true, but we’ve got to stick together all the same.”

The Owl said nothing.

“I understand if you’re mad at me for it all,” Sparrow went on. “But I hope you know it’s not that I wanted to leave you to go to Saras alone. I just have a duty. Like you do. And we both need to make good on that duty.”

“So we do…” the Owl sighed.

“And we’ll make good on them together, yeah?” Sparrow nudged the Owl with a smile. “Birds of a feather, that’s us. Lodge and Sodality, side by side, like guilds ought to do.”

“Right,” the Owl nodded. “Right.”

That was when they heard the yelling. A distant rumbling cacophony of chants and jeers.

“What’s that?” Sparrow asked.

“Trouble,” Owl grumbled. “Hurry.”

Turning the corner into the village center, the Owl and Sparrow came across the scene of a mob of villagers armed with torches and improvised weapons. They had gathered around near Feli’s house, with several pointing and jabbing at Falk’s house nearby. Feli’s father and mother stood on their porch, armed with saws and hammers, while Falk’s own family stood outside their own house. One of Falk’s kin, his father by the looks of it, was armed with a sword. Kesh, too, stood between the crowd and Falk’s home, his fear clear as sunlight in the gathering dusk.

“Plague and piss,” Sparrow swore, “what in the Church’s name is this?!”

“Folk medicine,” the Owl exclaimed. “Where is a Raven when you need one…”

“Oy!” Sparrow shouted, walking with purpose towards the mob. “Oy! Back off! Back off, I said!”

“Fuck off, bird-fucker!” A villager shouted. “This is our business, none of yours!”

“Help!” The carpenter cried. “They’re mad!”

“Your daughter’s got plague, man!” Someone yelled. “She’s been festering for days, and your family’s barely left her side! We’ve got to purge you for our own good!”

“That isn’t how miasma works!” Owl shouted, her patience lost. “Miasma is unaffected by open fire, and it’s not a miasmatic affliction to begin with!”

“Hush up that bird bitch,” somebody said.

Sparrow drew her bow and nocked an arrow.

“Try it and taste Lodge steel,” Sparrow threatened. “She’s under Lodge protection, and by the Lodge, I’m telling you lot to douse those torches and sod off!”

“Is the Lodge in bed with plague birds now?” Someone called out. “Are the wilds to be covered in plague and infection!?”

“Sparrow,” Owl whispered, “This crowd is near to bursting. Put your bow down, or there’s going to be blood.”

“Lodgers don’t back down, birdie,” Sparrow told her. “Keep a hand on that sword of yours. You’re trained with it, right? There’s maybe two dozen of them with nothing but pitchforks and sickles, we’ll scare them off with a lick of blood or two, no harm done.”

“Until word spreads of it, and blame to match,” Owl mumbled, eyes keen and on the watch for any villagers making a move.

“Hey!” A shout cut through. Nyle had emerged from his inn, carrying a large bludgeon usually meant for drunken troublemakers. Behind him was a band of other villagers, equally armed with butchering knives and wood axes.

“Nyle-sum,” Sparrow smirked, her bow still nocked.

“We’ll have no madness tonight,” Nyle declared. “You lot want to burn up our own? That’s madness, and we’ll not stand for it!”

“It’s the only way, Nyle!” Someone yelled.

“Bugger off with that!” Nyle spat. “We’ve got a perfectly good bird with our very own Lodger there. There’s a fine way to handle plague without bloody arson. If you lot so much as put an ember down on those houses, or lay so much as a pinky on those people, me and mine here will see to it you get a thrashing your kin will remember for the next three births!”

The two crowds faced each other, yelling and shouting and trying, within their own roaring din, to convince the other of their cause. Some were reasoning, others were jeering, and nobody was hearing. The Owl watched the undulations of the crowds, observed the dance back and forth between the two groups. Once the blobs of angry villagers touched, there was going to be blood.

Nyle struck first. Somebody charged up into his face, a knife in their hand, and he cracked them hard with his club. A scream went up, and some of the initial mob dispersed immediately in horror at the sight of actual violence.

“Come and get yours, if you want it!” Nyle roared, to the cheering approval of his militia.

A few members of the mob cried out a challenge, but none of them charged. Nyle led his militia in a few steps forward, and the mob mostly stepped back, until some of its members were in striking range of the carpenter’s saws and hammers. People began to peel off from the mob, going into the gathering night away from the violence.

A few made a charge for the Owl and Sparrow, but at the sight of the arrows and sword, thought better of the attempt. Some threw things like bottles and rocks, but accomplished little more than bruises and a scuff on the Owl’s mask.

With a few more cracks and screams, the militia made its point more clear. The mob broke apart, leaving behind a few writhing members on the ground in agony. The Owl counted up five injured villagers, likely with a combination of contusions and fractures. A few mob members, losing their spirit but full of injured pride and indignation, tried to assault the Owl again, but only at a distance, and mostly with verbal harassment.

The Owl knew at any moment they might gather again to vent their anger out on her. She hoped she’d have enough coin to afford a room soon. Sleeping outside did not sit well with her.

“Well,” Sparrow sighed, putting her bow away finally. “That could’ve gone much worse.”

“It still could,” the Owl warned.

“Are you two alright?” Nyle asked, approaching.

“Sticks and stones, Nyle-sum, that’s all,” Sparrow assured. “You handled that crowd like a master at arms.”

“When I got word of what they were planning to do,” Nyle shook his head, “least I could do was get some of my mates together and try to keep the peace.”

“That will be a struggle in the coming days,” the Owl pointed out. “This isn’t over.”

“No,” Nyle agreed. “Nobody will be sleeping easy the rest of the season. Church preserve us, this is going to be told for generations to come… I think a feud has started tonight.”

“Most likely, yes,” the Owl said. “A line in your village has been drawn… I am sorry it came to this point.”

“Bah,” Nyle shrugged. “Not your fault, birdie. I know you’ve been hard at work with our Ranger to sort this mess out as well as you can.”

“Can you save her, bird?” The carpenter asked abruptly, approaching with his saw half-brandished. “Do you have a cure yet?”

“I do,” the Owl nodded. “I will brew enough dosage for Falk and Feli both over the course of the night. You will need to dose them in the morning and at night, when rising and retiring. In a week’s time, they should be significantly better; continue the dosage until it runs out, in two week’s time total, to ensure they are fully recovered.”

“Thank the Church,” the carpenter sighed. “You’ll have your gold, bird.”

“There’s more,” Sparrow said. “We know how they were afflicted.”

“What do you mean?” The carpenter asked.

“We found a cave, under Kol Mum Hill,” Sparrow explained. “There’s a hidden entrance to a little hideaway—there was somebody doing foul things down there. We think they found Falk and Feli and infected them with some forest nasties.”

“What?” Nyle asked. “Why would somebody do such a thing?”

“I…” the Owl started, choosing her words carefully. “I believe it was a heretic of the Sodality. A traitor. I will be reporting this to my order when I arrive in Saras.”

“A traitor?” The carpenter said. “It was one of yours that did this? A bird?”

“A bad bird,” Sparrow corrected. “Owl here helped me chase the bastard off, and we’ll be hunting him down together. We just wanted the locals to know about the cave—might be some more birds or Leaguers will come to ask about it, poke about and learn some things about this bad bird.”

“Well that’s it, then,” Nyle said. “Problem found and solved.”

The carpenter did not seem so at ease.

“Your people go bad like this and bring us plague,” The carpenter said, “and then I’m meant to pay you for fixing what your own have done?”

“It was a heretic, sir,” the Owl said calmly. “Our order doesn’t exactly promote heresy against its own doctrine.”

“But profits off it all the same,” the carpenter spat. “Plague on you, bird, I’m not giving up my gold to your damned racket—you’ll treat Feli for free, in reparation for what your little heretic has done.”

“That is against my vows, sir,” the Owl said firmly.

“Plaguemongers,” the carpenter spat. “I wish that crowd had taken you. I���d have helped.”

“She’s saving your daughters life,” Sparrow shouted. “And you’d see her staked?”

“Dayl,” Nyle said calmly, “come on, man, give the bird her gold, she’s earned it.”

The carpenter spat at Nyle’s boots. “She’ll bring her tincture for Falk and Feli both tomorrow morning, or I’ll bring together the whole damned village to burn her. You keep her in your inn, Nyle, or we’ll burn it down, too.”

“Calm down, Dayl!” Nyle demanded. “Don’t make me crack your head until you’re thinking straight again!”

“We’ll do it,” Sparrow said quietly. The other three looked to her.

“What?” Owl said.

“Trust me,” Sparrow whispered. “Like I trust you.”

Stones in glass houses, the Owl heard echoing in her mind.

“We’ll bring your medicine at dawn,” Sparrow affirmed. “I’ll see to it myself, on my Lodge. And if Nyle will keep us, we’ll stay at the inn all night, and I’ll not let the bird take even a step outside.”

The carpenter nodded. “There’s a good Ranger, then… fine. On the morrow. And then this bird gets out of town.”

Sparrow nodded, and the carpenter left. Nyle turned to the two of them.

“Well,” Nyle said. “I’ll keep you the night… I reckon you’ve both been through enough that I owe you a meal and a bed, for pity’s sake.”

“Thanks, Nyle,” Sparrow said. “For everything.”

“Somebody in this town needs a head on their shoulder,” Nyle laughed bitterly. “And a heart in their chest. Honestly, bird, I’d pay for your troubles myself, but… I just can’t afford to throw gold around at other people’s troubles. Or at all, really…”

“Put it out of your head,” Owl said. “You’ve done enough. Thank you.”

Nyle nodded sadly, and led them into the inn. When they were situated into a private room, Owl began to set up her equipment to prepare the extract.

“How much gold would you be charging for all this?” Sparrow asked, stretching the day’s toils away.

“Curious as to how much you’re stealing from me?” Owl said bitterly. “There’s a reason our vows include compensation, Sparrow. These are goods that I can’t find forage at any time, and need to purchase, and my equipment…”

“Ease up and answer the question, birdie,” Sparrow said.

The Owl sighed impatiently as she worked. “Resources expended, equipment used, labor involved… nothing less than fifteen pieces.”

“Fifteen?” Sparrow repeated.

“Five for the roots,” the Owl listed, “five for my equipment upkeep funds, and five for labor.”

“Is that for each patient?” Sparrow asked.

“No, it’s total,” the Owl answered. “Why do you care so much?”

“Just curious,” Sparrow said. “Seven gold pieces for their lives… not much at all. That’s a week’s wages for some people. For a skilled tradesman that’s a day or two of work.”

“Not the steep bandit’s rates you thought I’d charge,” the Owl commented.

“I never thought you charged much,” Sparrow said. “I just… thought it was all about the charge for you. But it’s not. Otherwise you would’ve just done nothing about that bad bird. No coin in it for you… but you did do something.”

The Owl said nothing.

“And now you’re getting stiffed for good work,” Sparrow went on.

“Because of you,” the Owl reminded, finishing with the equipment and leaving the extract to collect over night.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Sparrow promised. “Are you done with that? Get some rest, then. We’ll up in the morning and head north for Saras.”

“If my order learns I went without compensation…”

“Leave it to me, little owl,” Sparrow smiled. “Trust your Sparrow, yeah? I’ll see it all set right.”

The Owl said nothing. Instead she simply went to her bed, laid down, and began to rest. She lay perfectly still, arms at her side, almost uncomfortably stiff, even as her mind roiled. It was some time before she fell asleep—and once she did, she did not notice the sound of somebody leaving the room.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #plaguecore #plague doctors #dark fantasy #the young owl

[bekahdoesnerdshit]

20, 27, 35, 40, 50, 59, 67, 88 for All Eight Characters (one each but if you wanna go Hog Fucking Wild feel free)

Alright so. I’m not going hog wild but! I decided to do two guys per question, one who was my first gut instinct for that question, and then one random character to spice things up! Do some character building in a direction I might not have thought to go, you know? 

Also bro this got so long so just. Putting it. Under a read more because I do respect your time and dashboard.

20. How would your character define love? Caspian: Love is when people stop to listen to you. When they smile when they see you, and sneak you an extra dessert when no one is looking. Love is being willing to bend the rules to make you happy, teaching you to hold your head up high even when you’re getting in trouble, and telling you to always look the world right in the eye when it wants you to back down. Love is giving up whatever you have to without a second thought for the other person’s sake, and knowing they would do the same for you. Love is taking the lessons they taught you, carrying them in your heart, swallowing your fear and setting out to bring them home. Ryker: Love is fleeting, and fickle, and fragile. Love is at best a luxury and more realistically a bargaining chip. It’s real, sure, but its primary use is to blind people to what’s hidden behind it. Some people may get lucky, but only a fool would bet on those odds. ...if you are lucky enough to find it, though, hold on tight. Real love, genuine, honest, reciprocated love, is worth doing anything for. The people you care about should know how you feel by what you do, not by what you say. Show love with discretion, but show it fiercely. 

27. How much have they given up to get to where they are in life, willingly or unwillingly? How much do they think they would give up to get to where they want to be, in the future? Raini: Raini I think is super interesting because I think she’s given up a fair bit, and she’s completely fine with the sacrifices she did make because she decided the benefits outweighed whatever she had to give up to get it. But on the other hand, giving something up unwillingly? Having something taken from her? Absolutely a cause for retribution at any cost. idk if I’m explaining the difference in a way that makes sense, but that distinction means the world to Raini because, even if the sacrifice is hard to swallow, at least she was in control of it. And like, the whole premise of the campaign is giving up shit! Giving up everything! And was it willing at the time? Yes! But coming out on the other side of it and not remembering making the decision and, quite frankly, not agreeing with the decision you made is rough! You’re yourself, you know because you’re you, but you’re also not yourself because that’s the whole point of what you did, so did you really do this? Was it someone else in a body you now inhabit? What happens to this new you when you regain your old memories, because there’s no way in hell you don’t at least try to get them back? It’s a lot to think about!! And that, and the core of this question, is why Raini doesn’t let this end without a Wish to restore the memory of whoever wants it. I don’t think she sees erasing them the first time as a decision “she” necessarily made -although whether that’s a philosophical issue or one of diverting guilt is open for debate- so she wants to reclaim what she sees as having been taken from her unwillingly. Pip: Tbh, the plot and premise of Strahd aside, Pip has lived a pretty charmed life. He fucked up plenty, but he always seemed to manage to stumble his way into where he needed to be when he needed to be there. Honestly, even within the module things didn’t go too badly for him! He lost a good friend at one point, and nearly died in that same fight, but other than that he fared pretty well. The biggest thing he’s given up in his life was his place in his home village, but honestly it’s like 50/50 on whether that was willingly or unwillingly. Like, he feels bad about the accidental arson? But also. It kinda kicks ass that he did then just like. Leave and it was fine. With his campaign over, I don’t really have much in the way of future goals for him! He’s just. He’s just fucking vibing. You know? So! Seems like he’s getting out of giving up anything in the future.

35. What is their most prized possession? If they have one that is. Ryker: For sure have talked about this before: it’s his hammers. He has two enormous hammers that he fights with, named Last Chance and Misery’s End. They’re sturdy orc made weapons with their names hammered into the side of each head in orc, that have been passed down from clan leader to clan leader for generations. They hit well, they don’t do much else, but when you’re regularly shattering knees, ribs, and skulls, what else do you need them to do? They’re sturdy, practical weapons. Reliable, and they remind him of home. He’s more comfortable putting his life in their hands than anything -or anyone- else’s. Brilliance: Her armor! For several reasons: 1. She paid extra to have it enchanted so that it repels dirt and blood and grime. After crawling through cult sewers to clear out some nasty boys, Brilliance decided that never again was she going to spend her short rest having to wipe blood or shit off her nice armor. When she upgraded to splint mail, she absolutely forked out that Armor of Gleaming enchantment. 2. Her shield specifically was decorated by her fiancee! Sienna likes to paint, and when Brilliance first got her shield for guard duty at the church Sienna took it upon herself to get out her paints and paint on a wreaths of vines and roses and birds and other lovely things, so that her love could always have a piece of her with her 💖

40. Do people expect a lot from your character or look up to them for something? Why or why not? Ayen: Unfortunately, Ayen is baybe. And even though she hasn’t outright told anyone how old she is, it’s becoming rapidly apparent that. Hey? They might have figured it out. It’s literally inconceivable how they could have pieced it together though?? I mean, how does anything about her not read as completely mature and put together elf woman thank you I’m an elf??  So, no. I don’t think anyone looks up to her. And that’s okay!! Yes she is a young adult with her own set of skills and her own value to add to the world and the people around her, but she would not thrive in a position of leadership like she thinks she would. She needs time to mellow out and settle down, and to learn how to make decisions quickly and responsibly. I think, one day, she’ll be able to show a lot of people how to do a lot of good. For now, though, she’s happy trotting along after Dad and rowing her and her new friend around in circles in a row boat, just because it’s fun to mess around sometimes. Auriga: Interesting question! Interesting question. I think in the collective sense, as part of the Court of Stars, definitely yes. They’re the rulers! They guide their people through the knowledge and wisdom accumulated over the course of millennia! I think Auriga specifically even is seen as having a closer connection to this wealth of knowledge, being a cleric and all. But I am toying with the thought that outside of the context of the council and the court, the people that make it up don’t have as much weight? There’s still respect of course! But while one star shining on its own is all well and good, without the context of those around it how are you meant to learn from what it has to say to you? Auriga understands this, it’s just part of their culture, and he’s in no way troubled by it. It’s the way things are meant to be, and so they will continue to be until it is clear that something needs to change! 

50. What’s their earliest memory? Auriga: Now full warning this is going to be a lot less detailed than Cog’s is just because I know him less, but I think Auriga earliest memory is something sweet and warm like. Sitting in one of his older sibling’s laps (while he’s the Baby of the family!) and just. Dozing against their chest while the rest of them sit in front of a roaring fire and just talk. He doesn’t remember a word of what was said, he just remembers being little and held and loved. Their family mostly interacts in the council room, I think, because when things get busy with ruling it’s so easy to just fall into work and let family time fall by the wayside. But when things get stressful, when he realizes he hasn’t interacted with his brothers or sisters outside their meetings in a while, I think this is one of the memories that comes to mind and encourages him to set aside whatever he’s reading and go off to be intentional about spending time with his brothers and sisters :) Cog: One of her earliest memories was when her magic first manifested! She was maybe six or seven, and Mama was busy at church and Daddy had gone out to check on some of the folks that lived a bit further out from town, and baby Cog was bored to tears. She knew she wasn’t supposed to leave home alone!! But there were some Cool Older Kids she wanted to impress, and they were going to sneak out and explore the swamp. They were big kids! They were like thirteen! Surely, nothing bad could happen if there were big kids with her! So she followed them out of town, and by the time they noticed their tag-along it would have been Way too much work to take her back home. Whatever. It’s fine. They start poking around the edge of the swamp, looking at weird fish and bugs and poking at mushrooms or whatever kind of shit grows in swamps. Probably getting eaten alive by mosquitos.  Well! Cog is having a grand old time playing with frogs and cattails, and she’d wandered off from the teenagers she was supposed to be staying with. She was up to her calves in the brackish water trying to recapture a frog that escaped her when she looked up to see a long, thin shape darting through the water straight for her. It was a cottonmouth, mutated by the Wasteland and nearly as big as she is. It hissed as it closed the distance between them, mouth open wide as it readied itself to lunge and sink its fangs into her. Cog screamed and threw her arms up to protect herself-  And then there was a burn of something wild and unfamiliar in her chest, a warm hand on her shoulder, and a flash of light so blinding that people swore later they could see it from town. Cog stood there for a moment, frozen and trembling, but when she gathered the courage to open her eyes everything within five feet of her was scorched clean, and the corpse of the snake that had charged her was bobbing, almost completely unrecognizable, in the water in front of her. Mama was furious with her when they made it back home, of course, but after hearing what happened? After hearing that Cog had finally managed to channel a spell, some rudimentary form of Word of Radiance? Well, there were much, much more pressing things to worry about, all of a sudden.

59. Have they ever had an encounter with someone that changed their whole life? Cog: HA Morgan opened up a can of “Talk About Ace” SOUP and folks it’s fucking lunchtime. Drink up assholes!!! I know I’ve talked about this a hundred times but I’ll never be sick of it: they’re JUST such good friends and they’ve been so so good for each other. Before they met, Cog was in a place in her life where she felt trapped and perpetually anxious, and Ace was restless and angry at the world. Neither of them felt like they could measure up to the expectations other people had for them, and Cog had turned that worry self-destructively inward while Ace had turned it outward. Ace’s straining at his leash brought him to Lafaroh, and Cog’s -at the time, Charlotte’s- soft heart had her defying direct orders to slip up to this stranger and warn him that he needed to leave before he got hurt. And Ace looked at Charlotte, at the genuine worry on her face for someone she’d only just met. And he looked at the town around them, at the way the people who passed by looked at him and how that look shifted from suspicion to shock and outrage when they saw Charlotte with him. And he did some math, and he realized whatever the hell was going on in this podunk town was a thousand times more interesting than anything that would ever happen back in New Alexandria proper. So of course, he settles in to pry. Charlotte, bless her, has many, many strengths; reading into people’s intent is not one of them. So when Ace starts asking questions, she’s happy to answer to impress upon him how important it is that he goes home! And the more she talks, the easier it is to just... keep talking? This man, this stranger from the Academy, is talking to her, listening to her like nobody ever has. And more than that, he actually seems to care! He has no reason to care that she’s worried she won’t be able to step up the way she knows her mom wants her to, but he’s clearly concerned and invested in her story. And even though she’s trying to keep things vague, she’s never been very good at deceiving people. Pieces start to fall in place, Charlotte lets more slip than she means to, and by the time they’ve been talking for an hour or so Ace has a pretty good picture of what’s going on here. It’s not safe here, not for him and certainly not for her, so he doesn’t even stop to consider whether it’s an offer he can make when he holds out his hand, both literally and figuratively, and tells her he can take her back to the Academy with him. And to Charlotte, who less than an hour ago had been weighing her odds of surviving the Wasteland alone if she ran away on her own, the door this man just opened to her? The way he’s reaching back through it to offer her a hand, to pull her through to a better, safer life? How can she say no?  They fought their way out of Lafaroh that day. Charlotte almost certainly wanted to try to slip out unnoticed, but they’d already attracted too much attention by letting townspeople see them talking. Charlotte goes home to quickly pack, and she doesn’t come back out of the house. Ace waits, and the sun starts to set, and she still hasn’t come back out. Something isn’t right. He knocks on the door: there’s no answer. He knocks again, louder. Then again. Finally, an angry looking man opens the door and starts to tell Ace to get lost, but there’s clear sounds of arguing inside coming from just out of view of the doorway. The man is big, but Ace is fast enough to duck inside and around the corner in time to see Charlotte struggling to get around a woman who looks strikingly like her in order to make a break down the stairs and toward the door. The next several seconds are messy and disjointed; no one expects someone in high level caster robes to take the staff off their back and start attacking with it, but the next thing Charlotte knows Ace has her hastily packed bag slung over one shoulder, has planted her firmly behind himself, and is holding her hand with one of his own while he levels his staff at her parents with the other. His voice is calm but hard as he explains that they’re leaving, because Charlotte made it clear that she isn’t safe or happy here. If they try to stop them, Ace can and will bring the full force of New Alexandria’s wrath down on their tiny, shitty town. He’s going to take Charlotte away, find her a place in the Academy, and they’re not going to say a word. And so they leave! With all of Lafaroh absolutely seething behind them, with Charlotte gripping Ace’s hand as tight as she can and willing her own not to shake, they set out together into the Wasteland and, ultimately, to New Alexandria.  I have Such a vivid mental image of the two of them camping out in the Wasteland the night before they made it back to New Alexandria, with the lights of the city just peeking over the horizon in front of them. They’re eating dinner over a fire Ace made Such a show of lighting with magic instead of the tinderbox one of them definitely had, and they’re talking about names Charlotte could use in New Alexandria because she’d quietly admitted earlier that day that the name “Charlotte” has so much baggage that she doesn’t want to carry anymore. And Ace, while he is trying to help, is also a dork. He’s throwing out every name that pops into his head, good or not, trying to see if he can get her to laugh at one of them. They spend a few minutes talking, Ace muses aloud over “Charlotte Olivia Grace” a few times, looking for some cute nickname he can pull out of a name like that. And then he pauses, and sits up, and looks at Charlotte, and nods. The suggestion that she go by “Cog” makes her laugh, but that’s a good thing. Ace is grinning too because some dumb shit he said finally got a smile of out Charlotte for the first time since they left her shithole town. She’s sort of laughing in spite of herself, and it eases some of the heaviness that’s been hanging over them the last few days, but after considering it for a moment? She loves it. Taking the name she was given, and making it her own in a way she knows her parents would hate? It feels good! She’s grinning ear to ear when she turns to Ace and nods in agreement. “Cog” it is. “Charlotte” dies in the Wasteland that night; Cog enrolls in the Academy the next day. In Cog’s eyes, Ace’s intervention literally saved her life. She went from being a scared little girl in the middle of nowhere with no future beyond the ramshackle walls of her small town, to an incredibly promising up and coming student of the Academy. She went from being told that the only use her magic had was what it could do for the Church, to blowing away professors who expected her to barely be able to manage a cantrip and being praised for her intuitive understanding of magic. And for Ace! Cog was the first person his actions truly, directly helped. He saw a problem, he stepped in, he fixed in. In a slow moving, insular city like New Alexandria, that wasn’t something he’d been able to do before. He saw how the good he’d done in helping Cog reflected and redoubled in the way she treated the people around her, and saw her making the choice to be kind not in spite of but because of everything she’d been through growing up. Bro like Ace’s character bio says “self-appointed big bro to Cog” and “he sent a letter to Cog thanking her for being a positive influence in his life”. This question got SO out of control as I wrote my Cog and Ace fanfic but! They deserve it! AND the party is going back to New Alexandria next session, so!! More Ace content soon folks stay tuned! Raini: Did you think I ran out of soup?? Did you think lunchtime was over? FUCK you! This is MY blog and I’ll wax poetic about my dnd characters and their friendships for as LONG as I want to! And there’s nothing you can do to stop me!!!!! Now this one in fairness probably won’t be as long as Cog’s was, just because I know that all the people who follow me are like. Actively in the campaign and various group chats where we discuss how important our characters are to each other. But do NOT make the mistake of assuming it’s because I love you any less. I love you so much. Yes homo. Where do we start? At the beginning, with our lizard. Y’all ever uh. Y’all ever met a dipshit lizard who you’re pretty sure you can trick into taking you adventuring but plan to ditch the second they become deadweight (i.e. whenever they go down for the first time, probably), except then you became like best friends and siblings by all but blood and you realize you’d rip the world in half for them without them even asking and you can’t even begin to imagine how you’d reconcile the hole they’d leave in your life if they left it? Have you ever slowly realized that you’re adding “except for him” at the end of every generally grumpy statement you make about the world? And then realized even more slowly after years of friendship that somehow the bastard managed to extend “except for him” to “except for them”, and you’re so much less disengaged from and disinterested in the world around you? Y’all ever had that happen to you?? Shit’s wild. And then. Y’all ever met a fucking cop who clearly has, like. An actual metric ton of baggage she’s refusing to even glance in the direction of? And at first, it’s a pain to have to circumvent her “morals” in order to get shit done. Honestly, it’s kind of always a pain. But even your crotchety ass has to admit there’s something about sticking so firmly to your guns regardless of the situation you’re put in that’s admirable, that the world would be a much better place if more people had that same iron will and a refusal to be moved. Even if they’re standing up for stupid shit, at least they’re standing up for something. And maybe you take some of that resolve and tuck it away in your chest, to give you something to grip onto when you need to dig in your heels and refuse to let the world knock you around. And then. Y’all ever met a druid who burns with an anger you, honestly, kind of understand? Who wants to be more than the world wants her to be so badly, in a way that you definitely understand? Have you ever gotten to watch over the course of weeks and months as she time and again made the choice to take that anger and that drive and point it at things that would hurt the people she cares about? By god, she’s leaving her mark on the world, and she’s doing that by burning the shit out of it. But, without fail, there’s always a circle of uncharred, untouched ground around each and every party member. And when you notice this pattern, you can’t stop yourself from noticing it again, and again. And you learn: sometimes, you’re angry at the world. Sometimes! You’re angry at your party members! But that anger points outward. Always, and unequivocally. You have your friends’ backs, even if you’re furious with them. And then you meet a fish and you learn that sometimes things just need to be hit a lot of time in a row, really hard, with a big fucking hammer.  Okay but you meet this fish who, somehow, despite being monotone and weird and a fish and clearly an outsider to like. Land culture? Which you guess is a thing, apparently. Despite all of that, they have an emotional intelligence that’s off the fucking charts. And quite frankly! For a long time, it makes you really, really uncomfortable! If you don’t tell somebody how you’re feeling, and you don’t, then they shouldn’t be able to figure it out. But, slowly, you start to see the value of it. Your lizard is upset about something, and they won’t tell you what, but you’re able to squint at them and slowly figure it out so you can fix it. A few days later a joke a party member makes rubs you the wrong way, and you swallow your pride enough to admit it and they just. Apologize? Just like that? They promise not to say it again? And fish expressions are so hard to read, but you can just Tell that they’re over there looking smug, the bastard. But while you’re definitely not ready to commit to this being a daily thing you can, begrudgingly, admit that you can see the benefits of “communicating” with the people around you. 

67. What was the most acidic remark your character’s ever given to someone? And their reaction? Brilliance: In like our third session, our warlock had disguised himself as a “beautiful woman” in order to flirt with the guy we were there to talk to to get information out of him (Note: They did not ask Brilliance, at any point, if she was willing to flirt with him instead. She would not have been, but they could have at least asked). So Brilliance was hanging out at the bar near this dude’s private booth while the warlock chatted him up, and when the warlock got up to leave the dude reached out to try and grab her arm. He missed, but Brilliance was on his ass in a second with her sword out like “If you had grabbed her hand, you would have lost your own. She’s not interested in you; let her leave.” He thought it was funny and kept calling Brilliance “sweetheart”, but I did get to put my sword through his gut before the end of the night SO. Who’s the real winner? Ayen: I rolled Ayen for this one and I want to respect that and not cop out, but I don’t think it’s super in her nature to snark at people. She’s just gonna tell you like straight up that you’re a dickhead, and that’s that. I think the only time we might get to snarking is if someone (Dad, a party member, etc.) said “leave it alone” and Ayen is Not Done. She might send some parting shots over her shoulder then, like a “You’re lucky I like this guy so much, or we wouldn’t be done here” or “Show your face again when my dad’s not around, if you’ve got the balls.”

88. Assuming they aren’t one already would your character prefer to be a Vampire, a Werewolf, or a Demon? Pip: Potentially a cop out! However. A little..... vampire frog? Hello Mr. Strahd. Are we friends now? Could be a vampire! We have seen that vampires are cool and hot and powerful if perhaps a little amoral but that’s okay, because they’re cool and powerful.  Caspian: I literally spent fucking forever looking at this because. She literally worships and derives her Sun Soul monk shit from Pelor, the god of the sun. So like! How the fuck you gonna be a vampire or a werewolf with that going on. Dude hates the undead too, so vampire struck out twice. Demon’s iffy too, because it very much goes against the whole “good aligned” thing she has going on. So I guess?? Werewolf is the least offensive?? She’ll just pray and hope Pelor is like. Cool. With it. Haha? Also objectively, a werewolf that worships the god of the sun is VERY funny so there is that.

#celebreultimaverba #answered #featuring: my full length novel about how Ace and Cog met because they Deserve it. coming to ao3 uhhh never actually that was a bad joke #Caspian #gos #ryker #Rainivere #amnesia campaign #te'pip'ren #cos #brilliance #dia #Ayen Morwraek #creepy campaign #wasteland campaign #cog #bro everyone's getting in on this action fuck yeah #His Royal Highness‚ Auriga the Silvertouched‚ Prince of the Feywild‚ Third Heir of the Stars‚ The Twice Reborn‚ Conservator of Stories‚ The #fuck yeah we're starting the world's longest most annoying ass tag #the camplane #hey i don't want to jack myself off but this is the Best ask I've ever published thank you SO much morgan for sending this!!!! #clocking in at nearly 4800 words; she's Chunky lads

[betweentheseseams]

For Christmas, my aunt gifted me a DNA kit. I’ve always thought they were a bad idea (Where is all that info being stored? What unethical things can a company owning the rights to so much DNA possibly do? Why do white people need to know so badly how white they are, to the point that we created the ultimate Buzzfeed survey to confirm our whiteness? (If you didn’t know, Ancestry/23andMe and the like aren’t especially helpful for non-white folks, due to lack of testing in largely non-white groups. There’s a whole lot more to study on that and I highly suggest you take the time to read up on it)). That being said, most of the adults in my family have done the tests, mainly to appease my aunt, who is essentially our family historian and takes her role very seriously. I had considered the idea of doing one over the years. I never met my biological father. My mother separated from him before she realized she was pregnant with me, and although he was aware that she was pregnant and I had been born, there was no communication there and she met and married my stepfather shortly after I was born. He was my dad growing up, until I turned 18 and we became estranged, after I realized how incredibly toxic he was as a person and he basically disowned me when he discovered I wasn’t interested in following his rules and very racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, and highly uneducated ideas. It caused a lot of issues within our family, but for the most part things have been relatively calm in the 10+ years since.

Fast forward to Christmastime. I had expressed interest in finding out if I had any other siblings, as well as my medical history, to my mother and my aunt. I wasn’t particularly interested in knowing anything about my biological father. Over the years, my mom has mentioned that he wasn’t a particularly good person when they were together, and the last information she’d heard of him was that he’d been arrested for arson at some point in the late 90s. I’ve never really given him much thought, and, as a child, whenever anyone realized that my stepfather wasn’t my actual biological dad, I was extremely vocal in pointing out that I only considered my unknown biological father as the “Sperm Donor”. But the idea of possibly having other siblings, and wanting to have a more complete medical history was compelling enough to me that I sold away my spit and rights to a company.

Come March, I got the results back and sent my aunt a text so she could connect me to our family tree in the app. She immediately went into super detective mode, and within a day found my biological father and several other family members. She confirmed that I didn’t have any other siblings, besides the two I already have, and that I had a living grandmother, several aunts, and a few cousins. She sent me photos, articles, and social media links, and I expressed to her that it was very overwhelming and while I appreciated it, I needed time to process it all. I tentatively went to my biological father’s Facebook page that he shared with his wife, and was extremely underwhelmed by what I saw. This man, a stranger to me, could’ve rivaled the dad who raised me in his ass-backwardness. He might possibly be the only MAGAmaniac in all of Vermont (obviously not, but you know what I mean), and as I already wasn’t interested in knowing him pre-test, this basically confirmed to me that he wasn’t someone I wanted to know. When you’re already a card-carrying member of the Shitty Dads Club™️, do you really need another one?

And that was that. I basically wrote that part of my life out of my mind, as it didn’t have anything to do with me or my day-to-day. The knowledge of having a living grandmother wasn’t appealing to me, as my Momaw (stepfather’s mom) passed four years ago, and was the most amazing grandma and best friend I could have possibly asked for. I feel lucky that I was able to have something SO good come from that connection, along with my two siblings. I don’t need another grandparent because I hit the fucking jackpot of unconditional love and support and guidance with Momaw. I didn’t feel like I was missing out by not knowing anyone else from my paternal biological family, either, as my mom is the youngest of 10 and my family is already massive as is. So it all came as a bit of a surprise when my aunt messaged me out of the blue in early July to inform me that she had taken it upon herself to reach out to my biological father and not only inform him of my existence (which he already knew about), but also sent him photos of me, along with my phone number. Something I neither wanted nor gave her permission to do. Something I hadn’t even expressed interest in. And after telling her yet again that it was overwhelming, she continued to allow this line of communication to stay open, and brought my mother into the mix.

According to my biological father, he apparently believed both my mom and I were dead. He says my maternal grandmother told him that the two of us had died, and he sunk into a deep depression over it, which has followed him for the past 29 years. Never mind the fact that he was in contact with a couple aunts and uncles over the years and so obviously knew that my grandmother had lied to him (if she ever even did so. We can’t know, as she passed when I was 3), or the availability of the fucking internet and basic Google search. In his own words, my aunt reaching out to him and “informing” him of the existence of his nearly-30 year old daughter “blew his whole world open”. Insert infinity eye roll emojis here.

As you could already tell, I was both upset that my aunt broke my trust in such a huge way, and thoroughly unimpressed by what she was sharing from him. I spoke with my mom about it several times, expressing how much my aunt had hurt me and frustrated me with her actions, and her choosing to take matters into her own hands and speaking for me. That might be the biggest annoyance for me of all, that she for some reason felt compelled to speak on my behalf for something I had no interest in or desire to explore, and took the option of some anonymity from me. My voice is my most important belonging, and having someone deign to speak for me infuriates me. And although my mother listened to me expressing how upset the whole thing made me, I found out a week later that she herself had been in contact with my biological father.

That was a kick to the ribs. She and I had spent years working on and building a relationship of trust and support, after a childhood and early adulthood of never being able to trust her. She was largely absent through a huge portion of my life when I needed her most, and it has taken years for me to build up my trust and faith in her. If you had told me ten years ago that my mother would become my best friend and confidant, I would have laughed my throat raw. But life is funny, and she did. And then she broke that trust in such a painful way, even after hearing how much my aunt’s choice to reach out to my biological father caused a massive rift between us. And Mom chose to create her own. For the first time in years, I didn’t want to speak to or see her or hear from her. I made that clear to her, and kept my distance until I could calm myself enough to speak to her without saying something that could irreparably damage our relationship. I reiterated that I had no interest in knowing my biological father, that I didn’t want to hear from him, and that it was a huge betrayal by her to continue speaking to him and fostering any sense of hope in him that I wished to have anything to do with him. Although things have been tense the last couple weeks, she and I have slowly been working through it.

And then tonight, as I arrived at work, a text from an unknown number popped up. A long text, from my biological father, who chose to ignore what my aunt and mother were supposed to have told him, that I didn’t want to have any contact. He introduced himself and reiterated his story about my maternal grandmother lying to him about Mom and I dying, said he wanted to get to know me and show me all the love he has for me, and that from what he’s heard I’m a lot like him. Things that I have no interest in hearing, don’t take to heart, and don’t feel particularly moved or motivated by. And I’m just. Exhausted.

Exhausted.

I don’t want this connection or half-assed truths or unbearable weight of expectations that have come to land so heavily on my shoulders.

When you sign in to take your DNA test, there is a disclaimer that you might find out information that could be upsetting and lead to more questions than answers. That continuing with the test could cause problems in your family and person life.

They weren’t kidding.

#personal #ramblings #dna test #23andme #ancestrydna #writing #writeblr #writters on tumblr #writtingcommunity

[kaysreadingarchive]

Wolves in Sheep’s Clothing: Part 2

Pairing: Jacob Seed x Reader, slightly John Seed x Reader x Joseph Seed

AUs: Omegaverse, werewolves

Warnings: Cursing, mention of character death, insulting

Word Count: 3,307

A/N:  Another chapter is out. I feel very free more with this story than my others. But don't worry, another chapter of On the Front Line will be out soon. It's just fun to write this sort of stuff and I feel happier while doing it. Thank you all for your love and support while I write trash and sip tea. It means the world to me! And like always, give me some feedback on what I could do better or what I did alright, where you wanna see this whole mess go, or something you just don’t understand. I also really want to know what your theories are for the coming story. I always love reading your guys' analyses.

Masterlist      Omegaverse Rules

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There wasn’t a week that went by that didn’t involve a Seed brother or the Project at Eden’s Gate. The mere mention of the word seed sent you into a whirl of emotions. It was mostly anger. All three of them never seemed to stay out of people’s business or trouble.

It made you think that Pops was wrong to say Nancy should keep her eyes on you three instead of the brothers. It would benefit him more than your snooping. All they did for months now was cause trouble for everyone who lived in Hope County. Most people would say that they weren’t bad folks. People saw them as something good. People didn’t read too much into it, they saw them as a simple church. They were compared to the Lamb of God church outside Fall’s End or even Pastor Jerome Jeffries.

None of them did anything illegal, nothing that could warrant suspicion. There was a complaint or two about John annoying various business owners or buying up possible farmland, but that was it. Pops and yourself were the only ones that knew better. You’ve spent hours after your shift was over piecing their records together.

You would sit at your little desk sifting through the three files you composed of them, including another woman named Faiths whose actual name was Lana.

Joseph’s was the thickest with arrests ranging from trespassing to disturbing the peace. None of them were murder or kidnapping, but it was something. He didn’t seem to hold a job for long according to the records from the Rome Police Department.

John’s was the thinnest. He had a clean record from what you could tell. He was a lawyer and he seemed pretty successful with a dab of luck with rich parents. It would definitely explain the charm and dollar signs. You couldn’t even hold yourself back from scoffing when you read his file. The whole point of looking over these records was whether or not they could have a permit to carry. You felt uneasiness just thinking about giving John a permit to carry a dangerous weapon, but you had to give him one.

If you and Staci showed up at a call involving him, he always had a stupid ass smirk on his face. You started to think he purposely caused a ruckus just to irate you. Staci just had a dumb expression on his face, but you really couldn’t hide your fury with him.

Jacob was a whole other story. He committed arson apparently. It would explain why his face looked like shit. He burned down a barn and then was drafted into the military. Great, fucking fantastic. Just what you needed. A war hero.

You slumped down in the office chair and let out a long, agonizing sigh. You stayed late yet again to go over the files. You wanted, no needed an excuse to not give them that piece of paper. Your eyes focused on the stack of files again, but not a paper was out of place. This was it. They won, John fucking won.

At your last visit to John, he had asked you about the status of the permit. There was another noise disturbance call in the area and of course, it was you and Staci. You both drove to a clearing near a pasture not far from Fall’s End.

It was fairly nice, only having a dirt road to access it. Piles upon piles of light-colored logs littered the ground and John was in the middle of it. His jacket was off, leaving him in only a blue button-up shirt. His black sunglasses were over his eyes and he wore a blue hard hat. You would think he wouldn’t wear one so it wouldn’t mess up his hair, but the big baby was sucking it up so he didn’t get hit in his thick skull.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite deputies. What brings you two here?” His voice sounded teasing as he walked up to the window of the patrol car. He laid his arm on the door and leaned in.

“Knock it off, John. You know why we’re here.” This insult barely shuts him up. You could practically see the cogs turning in his head as you talked back to him. But then it turned back into a smirk.

His smirks usually sent chills down your spine, not the good ones either. This time it didn’t, it felt like you were in control for once. Your brain was finally telling your anxiety to calm the fuck down. It felt great to not have this overwhelming pressure on your chest.

“Oh, you’ve got a mouth on you, Rook. It would be a tragedy if I had to teach you some manners.” There was a hint of a predatory tone in his voice. It may have sounded flirty but it definitely wasn’t. How people believed in these brothers was beyond you.

Normally, in this situation, you would feel trapped, but you felt so free. You could easily reach over the door and strangle him with his own necklace. Maybe drown him in the Henbane. That sounded like a great idea.

“Why don’t you knock it the fuck off before I show you the inside of a jail cell.” John didn’t even flinch at your threat. To him, it sounded like a kitten hissing to defend itself. This pointless fight with words, something attempting to hurt him, was shining through as wrath.

Staci was the exact opposite, instead of being cool and collected, this grown-ass man was sweating bullets. His hazel eyes were wide open, and his mouth was hung open. He had never heard you curse or act out like this before. You were usually shy and reserved, you never really voiced your opinion especially to him.

You’ve always were reserved, even as a child you never could speak your mind. But, John was someone that pushed you and pushed you until you finally broke. You didn’t see him as a person, you saw him as an object to be yelled at and punched. Like a pillow. Yeah, a handsome smug ass pillow. There was always a part of you that wanted to break out and now this fucking church finally did it.

“Now, my dear. We don’t want to say things we’ll regret, do we?” His blue eyes flicked from the guns strapped near his sides to you. Your eyes narrowed as you watched his movement. His tattooed hand settled at the base of his waist. Putting a steady hand on the cool metal.

“Are you threa…!” Before you could say anything, Staci covered your mouth with his hand. It smelt like gunpowder and donuts and was big enough to not only cover your nose but your mouth. You hastily ripped it off before he suffocated you. You gave him a glare and mumbled curses under your breath. What an asshole.

“We’re just going to go if there isn’t anything else.” You could tell he was trying to act nice. It was like a challenge for him. Staci’s entire personality was either set to asshole, or fake friendliness. There was no in-between. You could practically feel the anger boil inside of you when John’s smirk got even bigger and turned into a full smile. White teeth and all. He was mocking you and it only made you angrier.

He reached into his expensive suit pants and pulled out a yellowed piece of paper. ‘COME JOIN US!’ was written in big bold letters and the cross of Eden’s Gate was plastered right in the middle. He reached in through the driver’s side door and just held it there for you to take. You looked at the paper and back at him, waiting for him to make a surprise move.

Maybe he’ll grab your arm and cut it off. Or he could drag you through the door and make you work on his silly wooden project. The possibilities were endless when it came to this man. Who knew what he would cook up in that stupid mind of his. Some persuasive lawyer shit.

You carefully reached for the paper and snatched it away as soon as your fingers made contact. Goosebumps went up your arm when you brushed your hand with his fingers. You had no idea whether it was from disgust or… something else, but you definitely didn’t like it.

“I would love it if you would join us. Maybe we can wash out that sinful mouth of yours.” You had no idea whether he was flirting or not. He was doing an awful job at it if he was. Nevertheless, a faint blush made its way to your cheeks. You looked away and rolled the window up, just hoping his fingers would get caught. They sadly didn’t.

Instead, you did him one better. You slowly backed the car up and made sure to go over one pile of logs. The wheels went over the pump and the sickening crack of wood sounded in the car. You looked outside the window to see John screaming. He began to bang on the glass until you shifted the car into drive. Another crack was heard as you pulled forward and you could see a fairly large log split in half.

A feeling of satisfaction soon replaced the anger as you drove away and John’s face filled the entire rearview mirror. His blue eyes were narrowed as his entire face was bright red. He looked to be screaming at one of the builders. Who was no cowering in fear as John let him have it.

The ride back to the station was quiet. Awkwardly quiet considering that Staci was a motormouth. He said nothing as he watched farms and pastures pass by. His lips were pulled into a frown and his eyes held seemingly no emotion. They were just pools of hazel with nothing else. That uneasy feeling was very evident now.

It was hard knowing someone was mad at you, a critical flaw you’ve always had was wanting to be liked, it got worse at the academy when no one seemed to like you. Or when you parents died, you stopped looking for approval from them and it switched to wanting approval from everyone. You couldn’t please everyone was something Pops always said.

Just knowing Staci didn’t like you ate you up inside. “Staci, come on, whatever I did I didn’t mean it.” The beginning was very evident in your voice. The tough act slowly melted away as your voice and hands quivered on the wheel.

Staci didn’t even react to you. He just continued to gaze out the window.

“I’m not mad, I just hope you don’t go to that sermon. I have a bad feeling about those guys, but no one else seems to. John especially.” Wait, were you hearing this right? Staci Fucking Pratt cared about you. The same jackass that glued your office supplies to the ceiling and had an absolute field day with you getting them down? The same one that made a habit of tripping you when you walked into your office?

“Was that concern I hear Pratt?” Your frown turned into a small smile as you teased him. He didn’t look at you but you could clearly see him get flustered.

“Shut the fuck up, ( Y/N). Don’t tell Joey, I won’t hear the end of it.” He gave a slight chuckle and went back to looking out the window.

The atmosphere became more comforting than before. You parked the car into a space and got out, grabbing the flier. You were curious, to say the least. What was strange about it was it was at night. Apparently the project did them at odd hours. From the butt crack of dawn to midnight, there was no stopping them. Even people like Major Virgil Minkler thought they were good people. Strange but good.

You just wanted to see if your hunch was true about them. Could they be bad people or were you just crazy? John was definitely crazy in your opinion but he just seemed to have a terrible temper that went on and off like a switch.

You walked to your shared office and logged out of the computer. Staci had already dashed to his car as soon as he hit the power button. You grabbed the files from the desk and walked out with your bag. You put all three of them into the archives in the break room and walked out to Pop’s office.

You gently knocked on the wood door and opened it. “Oh, kiddo, I didn’t hear yea.” Whitehorse turned to you and put an arm through his jacket.

“Are you ready to go old man?” He chuckled and shook his head, grabbing the truck keys and walking out behind you.

“Old man? Soon enough I’ll be saying that to you, you’re gettin’ grey already from Pratt.” He had to just pull your leg. You did nothing but complain about Pratt at home. Pops had even said you were like an elementary school girl bullying a boy she liked.

As soon as you made it to the truck you threw your duffle bag into the bed. You weren’t really worried about someone stealing, everyone kept their front doors unlocked. This county was placed around trust and faith. Eden’s Gate was an extent of that. They brought faith so they could be trusted. Something definitely irked you the wrong way, they were too friendly. Too willing to help. Maybe that’s why people trusted them so easily. They would follow someone like Joseph blindly if he made the tough choices for them.

You hoped right into the passenger’s seat and Pops followed you and set the truck on the road. The radio was softly playing old 80’s rock. You turned the station and an unfamiliar song played through the speakers. You turned the volume up slightly and, ‘Keep your rifle by your side!’ played.

“What the fuck is this?” You turned the channel again and this time, ‘Jacob’s gonna come and set those sinners free!’ played. “Is there some new Christian station? This sounds so bad.” You kept the station on and made fun of it as Pops drove. He would put in a joke or two as the songs changed, each one worse than the last.

You brought out the flier and gave it another look over. You could feel Pops green eyes on you as soon as the name Project at Eden’s Gate came into view.

“Don’t tell me you're gonna go see that loon, (Y/N). They’re up to somethin’, I can smell it from a mile away.” He gave you a worried smile and turned his focus back onto the road. His comment took you back a moment and you thought about it. What if he was right? What if they really are a cult or something that? But a cult? In Hope County? No fucking way in hell. But, then again, you were very curious why everyone went. Why anyone would want to listen to a grown man in a bun preach. He must be worth listening to then. You went back and forth with yourself before Earl had enough and sighed.

“I wouldn’t be mad if you went. Just don't get caught up in a web, who knows what would happen if I lost my favorite granddaughter.” He gave another reassuring smile. You knew he would support you with whatever you did. Whether he agreed with it or not.

“I’m your only granddaughter!” You gave a slight chuckle and threw all the tension out the window. You were going to go to this sermon and see what happens, it couldn’t be that bad.

When you finally reached the house and Pops threw you the keys from the porch as you slid into the driver’s seat. You drove off towards Eden’s Covenant near the Henbane. It was very pretty this time of year. White oxeye daisies grew in bunches along the river’s shore and you remember having picnics with your parents by the banks and learning how to make daisy chains.

When you arrived you could barely find a spot to park. There was no parking lot so there were cars shoved into every place they could fit them. You even spotted Nancy’s van a few cars down from your truck.

People singing could be heard outside. It was the same song from the radio. Keep Your Rifle By Your Side. Wait, did they have their own radio station? Yet, there were the same songs from another station. This church bought two radio stations. That can’t be right, a church doesn't need a station in the first place.

You walked to the front of the church, seemingly dragging your feet to beat around the bush. You were hesitant at first but Joseph’s voice rang from inside. It was very soft but began to get louder until it sounded like he was ranting and not performing a sermon.

You pushed the door open, trying to avoid the people that practically stood in the isles. There wasn’t enough room for everyone it seemed. You squeezed your way through until you found a spot near the wall in the front. All three Seed brothers were present. Joseph up in front preaching his little heart out and Jacob and John lingering in the back along with who you presumed to be Lana. Surprising, Joseph’s shirt was off, revealing numerous tattoos. His rosary swayed with his frantic hand movements as he tried to act and give life to his words. It was almost mesmerizing how passionate he was about this.

“When I read the newspaper like everyone else, I see headlines I don’t want to see. Brother turned against brother and for what reason? Politics, greed, and pride. These politicians, these leaders are too blind by their own sin to see what they are willing to destroy in order to feed it. God cannot ignore this world any longer. The Lord has seen your sins and He has asked for my help. He whispered His righteous words into my ear and delivered a message onto the world. Come and see the change that the project will bring. Hear as Gabriel sounds his trumpet of the oncoming collapse. Our Pack must stick together to walk among the angels through Eden’s Gate!” Collapse? What was the collapse? And a pack? Did he mean like a pack of wolves? What the hell is this?

Joseph walked back and forth, staring intently at each member. He didn’t turn away as he got louder, pulling more and more people in with his intense gaze and words. You had to internally fight yourself from listening to him further.

In some instances, in some crazy way, he was right. Just ask any prepper in this county and they would tell you something similar. You turned yourself away from Joseph to see Jacob looking your way while whispering into the ear of another man. They both looked straight at you as the other bearded man walked away, his trench coat trailing behind him.

“I am your Father and you are my Children.” The congregation gave cheers as the sermon ended. Joseph hopped down from the stage and was immediately swarmed by a dozen people offering hugs. While they were distracted, you slipped out the door and back to the truck. Quietly avoiding Nancy and Danny, who were both outside speaking to John.

You opened the driver’s side door but stopped. Your clothes were thrown all over the bed and the duffle bag was ripped open. “What the fuck!?” You gave a small scream as you jumped into the bed and went through your stuff. Your picture was gone. Your mom and dad’s picture was fucking

#far cry 5 #fc5 #reader #reader insert #omegaverse #werewolves #jacob seed #joseph seed #john seed #jacob seed x reader #joseph seed x reader #john seed x reader #cursing #mention of death #mention of violence #guns #cult #threats