#nais nook

[delicatebluebirdruins]

because Chain of Thorns is coming out in January I’ve reread the infernal devices (ahead of schdule and I was considering making a group read thing and discussions about things) now should I read the academy novellas or *gags* ghosts of the shadow market maybe ghosts

#the infernal devices #cassandra clare #shadowhunter chronicles #the last hours #gagging at the idea of ghosts of the shadowmarket because matthew and the truth serum #things being: book nook of the institute library yay or nay and how they're idiots (affecionate) and you know things

[astralnymphh]

thinking about painslut!ellie who likes getting scratched up by long nails.. ✮

nothing— and i punctuate nothing, compares to the painful bliss of feeling nails as whetted as a great white's jaw of knives tear red valleys into her shoulder blades. hell, ellie encourages you to mark up her back. not necessarily by words, though. a sort of fucking frenzy will kick in, and she'll embolden those claws to bite with her hips, rolling on yours, dragging her soppy folds all over your cunt. ellie angles herself in various ways; draws her groin under yours to hump your clit directly, positions and splays her pretty bush as she bounces on your bud, plasters her pussy full–on and circles the skin 'round. an unorthodox aim to get you wailing, "yyesss ellie!" as you cum against her puffy pussy and straightaway, without hesitation tracing your fingertips up her supple, dry–scored skin, you dip pressure beneath the jut of her shoulder blades and shred the flesh. "fuck! fuuck!" els' winces to your ear, growlish on the lobe as she nips it, "yeah, make me fucking bleed baby, fuckin' bleed." almost knurling her back into your clawing palms, seizing and clenching up her rump on your cunt as her cum spills lubricous and frothy inside your pussy lips, hiking herself up just so you could visual the honeyed webs keeping you two connected. "hurts so good, mhmm, so fucking.." but she is nay of breath and hazy of her heart and eye, the added zap to her climaxing core and the throbbing affliction of fresh crimson dashes oozing tiny beads of blood, sanguineous delight, offering of the pale mistress moon— has her merry to pass out. collapsing, her orangey sweat breasts fall to yours and squish like two pancakes, damp waist laying next, and lastly her chin hooking a home upon the nook of your neck, parting breaths she longs to not be livened of soon enough. "thank you.. thank y' thank— mhh, thank you." ellie recites a push of praises through your collarbone, her hand draped limp on your bicep wiping it's thumb so gentle with care, the ghostly graze dithers your brain a second— a moment you skip and fuzz the realization of a warm drip streaming on your rib during, the grasp of what that dribble was hitting you like a brick. "ellie, ur' back— y'need to.. huhh.. band-aid.." exhausted, little heaves clog your throat through the words, but ellie slacks her head up and renders them useless regardless, "mh–mm, it's fine. don't need 'em tonight." she gauzes your light worries in a tone that sifts through you, relaxes you, crafts you a reason to wonder 'why bother', and lie there lackadaisical as her kisses pepper cold on searing skin, a dozing meadow under the twilight sky of her sleepy gaze and in her arms like earth crust and soil fertile. sprouting in you a drug–like miasma that eats your thoughts and lulls your physical senses into a numb horizon, the last thing perceptible is the wash of air above you and a weighted thump beside you, leading you to believe ellie had bet on falling asleep as well, happy as a parakeet with liquid–iron proof of her bloody lovemaking flowing like a waterfall of bitterness down her back.

however, that proof had leaked and dotted the bedsheet come virgin daylight, adding one more thing to the laundry basket. ౨ৎ

#ellie williams #⤹𓍢ִ໋aestras thoughts #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou #lesbian #sapphic #ellie x reader #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie smut #tlou ellie #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams drabble #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams concept

[dreaming-medium]

Animals Without Direction

Chapter Three - Red and Gold Throw Pillows

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Masterlist

Is this a prison sentence? No, if it was a prison sentence, you would be in a cell, bound and chained. 

If it was a prison sentence, you wouldn’t have had the ropes removed from your wrists to shake hands with Bang Chan, Jarl of Miroh. 

If it was a prison sentence, you wouldn’t be being led throughout the keep by the Jarl’s squire to your room. 

And if it was a prison sentence, you most certainly would not be thinking about if you were allowed access to the collection of books that decorate every shelf in the building.

“Miroh is pleasant this time of year,” Jeongin’s voice brings you out of your head. “The Harvest Festival is in a few weeks.”

Erbus had only two festivals: one for the Summer Solstice and one for the Winter Solstice. Even then, the celebrations were scarce. 

Based on what your mother used to tell you, the celebrations used to be poem worthy. People would dance in the streets, food covered every inch of the tables, songs would be sung for the entire night and into the next morning.

Not anymore. Now they were merely a formality. Some shopkeepers would set up their wares outside the store. A few taverns would serve a special dish, perhaps charge half price for ale. 

Once Elves were banished, everything took a turn for the worst in Erbus. 

“I have never heard of The Harvest Festival.” You answered Jeongin. You might as well attempt to be civil with him; you still feel bad for that nasty kick to the stomach. 

Also, if this is your new life, may as well make friends. 

Jeongin looked over at you surprised, “Really? I thought all kingdoms on the continent celebrated The Harvest Festival.”

“Nay, not in Erbus.”

Jeongin nodded, “Do you enjoy celebrations?”

You thought for a moment, keeping your eyes in front of you to watch where you were walking. “I do, I enjoy them very much.”

“Then you will love The Harvest Festival.”

A small smile creeps over your face. “I trust your word then.”

After climbing a set of steps, Jeongin takes you down a hallway with doors lining the walls.

“This is where higher level positions of the court sleep. Lord Minho, Felix, and Sir Changbin’s rooms are here as well.” 

Looking at each door, they all looked the same. Except for one door that had a floral wreath on the front of it. Orange and purple flowers blooming on the ring. 

“Is that Felix’s room?”

“Aye, perceptive, my Lady.”

“Oh,” you scoff, “I am no Lady. Please refer to me casually.”

Jeongin smiles and nods. When you look at him, you see the little dimples in his cheeks and it makes your heart melt. He looks so boyish when he smiles. 

“Here we are then.” He says, opening one of the doors. The door directly next to Felix’s. 

“I am to sleep up here?” You asked incredulously. 

Jeongin blinked at you, “You are the Jarl’s mercenary, of course.” 

He said it like it was the most obvious statement ever. 

Truly, you were expecting to be put into a shared room littered with cots and one chest to put your belongings. Maybe if you were lucky there would be a divider between beds for some privacy. 

“I…” your voice got caught in your throat, “I have my own room?”

Jeongin just stares at you as if you have three heads. His hand is still on the doorknob, keeping the door open. 

“Yes, Y/N.” He smiles, it reaches his eyes, “You have your own room.”

Finally, you look away from him and into the room. The sun is setting, bathing the space in a brilliant orange and pink light. From your position in the hallway, you’re only able to see the foot of the bed and straight to the grand window on the opposite wall from the door. 

It overlooked the heart of Miroh’s capital. In front of the window there was a cushioned bench tucked against it, creating a perfect nook to sit in. Various throw blankets draped over the red pillows. 

Jeongin watched your face with a hint of his own amusement before stepping into the room and motioning for you to follow him. 

Slowly, you let your feet bring you inside. It’s already warm, but not in an uncomfortable way. In a ‘blanket wrapped around your shoulders’ way. 

That warmth was coming from the small fireplace inside the wall opposite the bed. 

The large bed sat against the left wall, jutting out into the room. A large, fabric canopy covered the mattress. You had seen drawings of beds like this in books before. Usually princesses slept upon them.

The softest of linens covered the mattress with at least eight pillows on top of it. At the foot of the bed was a large wooden chest, a circular rug underneath it. 

On the other side of the bed, to the left of the window, was a vanity. A plush stool tucked underneath it. 

Reds and golds decorated every cloth in the room in a regal manor. 

Your feet carried you towards the bed, fingers reaching down and running over the blankets. It’s so soft you could cry. 

On either side of the fireplace were two large bookcases. The shelves were scarce, which, to you, meant endless possibilities. A wardrobe against the wall next to the door. 

The flames in the hearth lick up the walls and crackle in a comforting manor. 

Is this truly Miroh? This is the same Miroh that you were warned about? 

Back when you were a child, when you would play pretend with the other kids, the evil monsters were always from Miroh.

“I never had my own bedroom before.” You whisper quietly, keeping your hand on the blankets. “Even as a youngling, the house my family lived in had one room. There was one table, one cooking spit, and one bed.”

Jeongin stands by the door, his lips press together in a thin line as if he doesn’t know what to say. He only watches you move around with a sympathetic look to him. 

“Up until today, I slept on a bedroll every night, the night sky was my ceiling. Most summers I would save my coin so that I may pay for a room in the inn on those blustering winter nights where I just couldn’t take the cold.”

Sitting down on the side of the bed, you let yourself feel the softness underneath your body. 

Every night, you’ll get to sleep on this bed every single night. 

Your fingers glide over the fabric, it feels so luxurious and divine. The pillows look so soft. 

“Well,” Jeongin grabs your attention, “I will leave you to decompress. I believe you’ve had a long day.”

The joke pushes a laugh from your chest. 

“If you are looking to train at all, you could always join us on the training grounds tomorrow. The guards and soldiers all train together at first light.”

“You train with the guards?”

“Aye, even a Jarl’s squire needs to practice his sword arm.”

You smile at him, “I’ll consider it.” There’s a pause. “I apologize for the kick, Jeongin.” You apologize bashfully.

The squire simply laughs, it sounds so genuine. “No need, really. If anything, I should be appealing to you to teach me some of your abilities.”

“If I decide to show my face on the training grounds, I’ll practice with you as my apology.”

Jeongin smiles back at you and nods. “I’m holding you to that.” He laughs, “I will leave you to it then. If you ever need to find me, my quarters are down by the armory.”

You watch him turn to leave before a thought comes to your head. “Oh, Jeongin!” You catch his attention, he whips around to look at you. “Do– ah– are we able to get food somewhere?”

He chuckles, “The kitchens are always open. Help yourself.”

You nod a thank you and he leaves, the door clicking shut behind him. 

There’s a few moments where you sit there, listening to Jeongin’s footsteps fade away. 

Is this real? Are you going to wake up any second now and you’re going to be chained to a torture table to be drawn and quartered? 

Quickly, you reach over and pinch your arm. 

No, this is real. The small sting of pain fades almost immediately. 

Your room. This is your room. 

Your body falls backwards onto the bed and your hands cover your face. A bright smile stretching over your lips no matter how much you try to stop yourself. Bubbling laughter comes from your chest and you cover your mouth to stop it.

How is this even possible?

The plushness of the mattress keeps you there for an undetermined amount of time. It’s like the furniture came with invisible arms, keeping you wrapped up in its tight embrace. It’s the comfiest thing you’ve ever laid on.

The sunlight in your room begins to shift and darken as the day passes. You simply lay there with your eyes closed. Not quite sleeping, but also not quite awake. 

Three quick knocks at your door brings you out of your dream-like state.

Slowly, you stand up and make your way towards the door. Who could that be?

When you pull open the door, you peak outside warily and you’re met with with a ray of sunshine. 

Felix’s smile immediately brings the sun back into your room and you open the door a bit wider to greet him. 

“Y/N,” he smiles even brighter, “I believe I promised you the safe return of your belongings.”

When you look down, you notice a bundle of armor with a sword on top. A small sigh of relief comes out as you grab everything from him. 

“Thank you very much, Felix.”

“It is no trouble at all. I am relived to see you in front of me, I have to say.”

“Oh?” You ask, turning around. You walk back into your room, leaving the door open for Felix to come in. The cleric follows after you, but sticks close to the door. 

“Aye, some part of me worried that you would not take kindly to the Jarl’s offer.” He admits. 

“It is not like I had a choice,” you mumble, setting your armor down on top of the chest. “It was either take the deal or be tried and hung.”

Felix makes a noise that he agrees with you, a small laugh coming after it. 

A comfortable silence settles over the two of you as you take your sword in your hands, pulling it from its sheath slightly to inspect it. 

Sliding the sword back in, you lean it against your bed. 

“Y/N.” Felix’s voice catches your attention. 

Without turning to look at him, you answer, “Yes, Felix?”

“Are you certain you took a tonic?”

Your heart thuds against your chest, a chill ripping through your arms. But you don’t show any sort of reaction, you take it in stride. 

“Quite. I had picked it up from an alchemist a few weeks ago. It proved quite useful, no?”

“It is just…” When Felix trails off, that’s when you choose to look at him. His bottom lip caught between his teeth, eyes watching the fire dance. “In my years of study, I have never seen a regenerative tonic have effects longer than an hour. If you were to have taken it before-“ he cuts himself off, sighing and finally looking back at you. 

Those blue eyes. It looks like they see right through you. It’s a miracle you don’t begin squirming. 

“Do you remember which alchemist you purchased it from? Perhaps I can study it?”

Quickly, you shook your head. “I’m afraid I do not. They were a traveling merchant I met on the roads of Erbus.”

The lies fell through your teeth too easily. This was more than lying, though, it was self preservation. 

Felix stares at you for a long moment, an emotion flickers behind his eyes briefly, his eyebrows twitched and his lip quivered. 

“I see. I fear it may be hard to obtain this tonic again, then. You see, I never travel to Erbus, I go out of my way not to.”

Your eyebrows pull together and your body turns towards his. “Felix?”

“Have a great night, Y/N.” 

Without another word, Felix turns on a heel and quickly walks out of your room, closing the door behind him. 

“That was… odd…” you whisper to yourself, staring at the door.  ----------------------------------------------

You waited until the moon was in the sky for at least 4 hours before venturing out of your room to find the kitchens. If you waited any longer, your stomach may have eaten itself. 

The only problem was that you had absolutely no idea where you were going. Every single hallway in this keep looked identical. 

Sconces with lit candles sat between windows that allowed moonlight to stream in. Deep red curtains hung on either side of each window.

Occasionally you would see a small table with two chairs on either side, a candle or a bundle of flowers would be on top. 

And of course, shelves upon shelves of books. 

Most of the titles you had never even heard of. Some were in different languages and others appeared to be sold old as if they were stolen from tombs of the ancient. 

You were stopped in front of one of the many windows, looking outside to what looked like the gardens. 

Even at night, some of them seemed to glow. Perhaps Felix had some part of that, they looked like the flowers that hung in the healing ward. 

A large stone fountain sat in the middle of a light cobblestone path, lined with beautiful rose bushes. The flowers were no longer in bloom, but you were able to identify them, even from this distance.

When you turned on your heel to leave, you accidentally smacked right into a body. A startled yelp leaving your lips. 

“By The Six, I apologize. I usually have my bearings.” You say quickly, looking at who you ran into. His hands hot shot out to grab your arms to keep you steady. 

He was tall, dressed in the same black leather armor that Minho was wearing earlier. Straighter brown hair hung over his forehead and stopped right above a sharp set of eyes. His lips were pulled in a straight line. 

“You must be the mercenary then.” His voice is low, and if you’re being honest, much softer than you were expecting. 

With the way his eyes track even the smallest movement you make, you expected his voice to be harsh.

“I am. I hope what you’ve heard is not too cruel.”

He takes his hands away, but you can still feel the warmth of where he grabbed them.

“What I heard is that an outsider came into Miroh, slaughtered four men in an extraordinary fashion, and was then offered a job.”

“I—“ you open your mouth to defend yourself but he cuts you off again. 

“I must say, I could not wait to see you for myself. It is not every day we have such excitement within the keep, nonetheless receive a new court member.” A smirk crosses his face and your mouth snaps shut. “My position is similar to yours, except when the Jarl sends me on jobs, no one knows about it.”

“A rogue, then?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. Your arms come up and cross over your chest. 

“Aye, you may call it that.”

“You and I are two sides of the same coin then.” A smirk on your face mirrors his for a moment. His sneaky, playful nature seems to have rubbed off on you rather quickly. 

“It seems that way.” 

The two of you study each other for a moment.

“You have a name?” You ask.

“Seungmin.”

“Can you do me a favor, Seungmin?” His response to you is a lift of the brow. “Can you please show me where the kitchens are in this maze of a castle.”

A soft chuckle comes from his chest and the corners of his lips twitch. “Aye, I can do that.”

Without another word, Seungmin turns on his heel and walks in another direction. “Let’s go, Y/N.” ----------------------------------------------

“Erbus? I do not see why you were so adamant on returning there.” Seungmin scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. He was leaning against one of the countertops in the kitchens. 

The staff went to sleep hours ago, leaving the ingredients to you. Instead of actually making something, you chose to sample some of the bread and cheese that was available.

“Perhaps it is not the best, but it is where I was born and raised.” you answered, taking a bite out of the loaf of bread in your hand. 

Seungmin was holding the other half in his. He took a bite. “I have heard naught but cruelty and stories of woe from Erbus.”

“I have only heard the same of Miroh. My father used to tell me that the former Jarl was going to come get me during the night if I did not finish my chores.”

The rogue laughs under his breath. “We had similar stories about Erbus. As a youngling I was told that one of the villages was constantly bathed in flame.”

You bite your bread, “We do,” you tease, “it is awfully hot there this time of year.” The quick joke falls from your lips and is well received by the rogue, who lets out another easy chuckle.

“Are you always awake this late Seungmin?”

“Nay, I was departing for an assignment when I ran into you.”

Your jaw falls open, a bit shocked at his statement. “I apologize, I did not mean to distract you.”

He held up his hand to stop your rambling. 

“It is quite alright, a quick detour to the kitchens will not cause my quest to fail.”

You let out a small breath before taking another bite of your bread. “Are you able to tell me what your mission is?”

Seungmin only smiles, “Of course not, silly mercenary. I would not even want to tell you and bore you with all the details.”

He pushes his weight off the counter and walks towards the door, passing you on the way out. Seungmin’s shoulder brushes lightly against yours as he passes you. “I trust you can find your way back to your chambers?”

“Probably not, but I will find it eventually.”

“Have a great night, Y/N. Speak soon.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you to your own thoughts once more. Every time you enter a new part of the keep, you’re met with a new face. 

With the bread now in your stomach, you turn and fill a mug with some fresh water and take a long sip.

It’s your first night in Miroh. The first night of many to come it seems. When do you suppose that the Jarl will give you your first mission? What sort of quests is he going to send you out on anyway?

He’s the Jarl of the entire hold, what would he need you for that he cannot send out guards?

It wasn’t until you finished the mug of water that you realized how thirsty you were. When was the last time you had a sip of water? Most likely this morning when you and Guatier came to the hold.

That was another thing, what ever happened to him?

You assume he was killed based upon what they tried to do with you. But killing him seems too nice for what he did to them.

Perhaps he was down in their dungeons.

That was a question for another day.

Tomorrow, you’ll take Jeongin up on that offer to train with him and the rest of the guards. 

But, for right now there was an enormous, cozy, warm mattress in your own personal bedroom waiting for you to rest your head in. 

That was if you ever found your room again. 

#stray kids reader insert #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #stray kids fantasy au #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic

[fictionadventurer]

Okay, yeah, minimalism is bland and soulless, but anyone advocating for maximalism has clearly never dusted a room in their life. There are nooks! Crannies! Crevices! All sorts of teeny little areas where gray fluff can gather and settle in ways that make it impossible to eradicate. You will lose days--nay, weeks--of your life reclaiming your furniture and decorations from the relentless gray menace, and you will never be fully victorious. All one can do is minimize its nesting grounds, and that requires some level of restraint in choosing one's furnishings.

#random thought of the day #look i love old stuff #beautifully made objects #but also dusting the intricately carved pews at church made me profoundly aware that the designers were not on the crew to dust it

[unsettlingconclusions]

Winds of Change

Pairing: Hana Lee x MC (Riley) Summary:  Hana sings a lullaby as the whispering wind sighs. Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort. Rating: G Word Count: 830 Notes: In celebration of Hana Lee Appreciation Week 2024. This is an appreciation of Hana's loving nature. It was supposed to be a drabble, but I may have got carried away. It was also supposed to be pure fluff, but I can only do so much without letting the angst seep through. Written while listening to Chinese Traditional: East Chinese Lullaby(Erhu & String Quartet). I recognize it's been a long while since folks have asked me to tag them, so if you're not interested, please just ignore me. Tags: @hanaleeappreciationweek @lizzybeth1986 @sazanes @twinkleallnight @tessa-liam @choicesficwriterscreations

Shì shàng zhí yǒu mā ma hǎo

A tender breeze blows through the room, moving the curtains like gentle waves drawing its shadows in the room, seemingly following the soft melody cutting through the silence of the night. A string of direct moonlight makes its way in, bathing in silver gleam two dancing figures completely enthralled by each other.

Méi mā de hái zi xiàng gēn cǎo

The whispering wind lures Riley in, who finds herself bewitched by scene. She doesn’t know the words being sang, but the warmth of Hana’s smooth melodic voice makes her feel like she was being offered a hot chocolate on a cold night.  Hana is cradling Aurora while rocking them back and forth as the baby coos and grabs randomly at Hana’s face with her chubby hands, fascinated by the sound of Hana’s voice.

Lí kāi mā ma de huái bào

Resting herself against the doorframe, Riley barely utters, “You are so beautiful.”

“She is beautiful”, Hana smiles like a beam of light, never taking her eyes off Aurora. She shifts a little, securing Aurora’s sleepy head on her left shoulder and gesturing towards Riley with her other arm. “Come here.”

Xìng fú nǎ lǐ zhǎo

Riley tiptoes towards them as quietly as she can, not missing any chance to wrap her arms around her two favorite people. As she presses her chest against Hana’s back, she places a quick kiss to her wife’s temple and caresses Aurora’s baby head, tightening her grip instinctively when she’s hit by the sweet mixture of Hana’s floral perfume and that adorable baby scent.

The three of them sway together to the sound of Hana’s humming for a while, until Aurora’s breathing becomes heavy and rhythmic. “I think she fell asleep”, Hana hushes, as she turns around in Riley’s embrace.

“What were you singing right now?” Riley moves a strand of hair away from Hana’s face. “It sounded comforting.”

“It’s a song my grandma used to sing to me when I was little”, Hana shifts Aurora again, now resting the baby’s head on the nook of her elbow as she moves towards the crib. “It talks about how a child will find happiness with their mother”.

The change was almost imperceptible to anyone else, but to Riley the slight change to a more flat tone in Hana’s voice wasn’t missed. She heard the other woman inhale just a little bit deeper as she fondly settled Aurora on the crib.

“Can you translate it to me?”

“Of course. Sit here with me.” Hana motions for the couch at the corner of the room and waits for Riley to join her before she starts reciting.

“Mommy is the best in the world. With a mom you have the most valuable treasure. Jump into your mom's heart. And you will find happiness! Mommy is the best in the world. Without your mom, you are like a blade of grass. Away from your mom's heart, where will you find happiness?”

“You miss your grandma a lot, don’t you?”

Hana just nods, “Nǎi nai meant a lot to me.”

 “I am sure she’s proud of the mom you’re becoming.”

The breeze picks up in strength, invading the room a bit more fiercely for no more than a couple of seconds, its swishing working well for muffling the sound of Hana’s sharp intake of breath. But Hana’s shivering can’t be disguised, and Riley pulls her wife down to her lap, covering the woman with a blanket that rested at the corner of the couch.

“Aurora is so lucky to have you as a mom”, Riley adds, running her fingers through the length of Hana’s hair, only to come back to her scalp and do it all over again. “You’re smart and compassionate, and you’re so warm and loving. I can see you holding her up when she’s learning to walk, and celebrating every new word she spouts. And when she gets older and awed by everything, just like you are, you’ll teach whatever she wants to learn, when she wants to learn. You’ll be there for her when she needs you and won’t make her do anything she doesn’t want to.”

A few seconds tick by after Riley’s proclamation, the curtains swayed like a pole flag the only indication of the passage of time until a gentle sniff cuts through the monotony, “Whatever she wants to learn?”

“Whatever!”, Riley replies animatedly waving her hands through the air before finding Hana’s and intertwining their fingers together.

“She will find a lot of happiness in your heart”.

Hana inhales sharply again, but this time, instead of the quiet tears welling up in her eyes, the corners of them crinkle, soon followed by the corners of her mouth turning up in a relaxed smile.

Outside the wind kept stirring, rustling the leaves leisurely. Inside, the love for Aurora stirred so many emotions inside Hana, and she couldn’t wait for all the transformation she was bound to bring in. ____________________

Additional notes: a. The lullaby and its pinyin were taken from this place. If you're Chinese and I got it wrong, please let me know.

b. This was inspired by 2 haikus about the wind:

1. A Gentle Breeze Whispering wind sighs Leaves rustle in sweet embrace Nature's lullaby 2. Winds of Change Wind whispers softly Stirring dreams of transformation Hope for new chapters

Thanks for reading!

#hana lee appreciation week #HLAW #HLAW Day 1 #hana x mc #hana lee #hana lee x mc #mc x hana lee #choices stories you play #the royal romance

[thisisnotthenerd]

Happy New Year @shakespearestolemyurl !! I have the other half of your 2023 @d20exchange gift: Songs of the Celestine verses for the Bad Kids!

Group Verses

On occasion, an adventuring party will receive a set of verses that encompasses the group as a whole—these verses are sung together as opposed to individually. Often, these are written by a bard within the group, taking the form to detail the exploits of their own adventuring party.

This set of written verses regards the Solesian adventuring party known as the Bad Kids, who defeated Kalvaxus and the Nightmare King during their first two years at the Aguefort Adventuring Academy. The author of these verses is technically unknown, but it is believed that Fabian Seacaster, during his early bardic education, composed these verses for his friends using the form learned from his pirate father, William Seacaster, after he joined the College of Swords during the Bad Kids' quest to retrieve the Crown of the Nightmare King. 1

______________________________

Adaine Abernant-O’Shaughnessy:

A wizard born

To endless scorn

Who chose the face the fighting storm

Upon her word

That she has sworn

The elven oracle

She’s stolen books

And taken looks

At futures she has now forsook

From tiny nooks

She found the hooks

Now categorical

With arcane hands

She made her stand

A mage come far from foreign lands

And as she scanned

She made her plans

And broke her manacles

For now she is

Second to none

The oracle for everyone

And free at last

She’ll have her fun

Adaine the oracle

______________________________

Kristen Applebees:

The cleric chosen

For devotion

Her heart in ever-changing motion

Questions Couldn’t

Remain unspoken

The Prophet now come free

So determined she

Can’t be deterred

She tried to fly with a Ribbon dancer

Oh she stands sure

Even though her

Dex is negative three

From Helio

To Yes? Or no

She understands what can’t be known

In philosophy

She seeks to grow

Cassandra’s only priest

A cleric’s light

Within the night

Guides darkened paths with clear sight

She walks alight

And fears no fright

Saint Kristen Applebees

______________________________

Figueroth Faeth:

The rebel bard

Cannot be charred

Flamboyant in her disregard

With warlock spells

She will safeguard

Fig the InFaethable

She changes face

In every space

And plays with skill electric bass

She’ll catch your soul

And take your place

While playing rock’n’roll

She gave request

For Aguefort’s best

But something she could not have guessed

Was to the west

And in her nest

Writing wizard’s scrolls

She’ll drink some gin

No fear of sin

Her secrets kept behind her grin

But when you’re friends

She’ll let you in

Fig the InFaethable

______________________________

Gorgug Thistlespring:

Barbarian bound

To hear the sound

Of metal music all around

He oft confounds

And breaks the ground

Gorgug Thistlespring

He looked for meaning

In the gloam

For heritage to call him home

Child of orc

And man and gnome

he is now the crab king

He fuels with fear

an endless rage

He came from deathly forest aged

Who is his dad

He cannot gauge

Insight is not his thing

He wields his axe

And hammer too

He’ll call across the world to you

He fixed his phone

Made sending stones

it’s Gorgug keep going

______________________________

Riz “The Ball” Gukgak:

The roguish goblin

Killed a dragon

With deepest passion he was gobbling

He’s hidden when

He gets his shots in

Riz Gukgak? Nay, “the Ball”

With arquebus

And sword to choose

The briefcase where he keeps his clues

Or healer’s kit

And clue tattoos

He makes good use of them all

The little shrimp

Of the bad kids

When seeking clues do as he bids

While counting fingers

He shot Biz

He’ll commit assault

Though self-contained

With party in reins

He thinks at night with buzzing brain

He’ll ne’er refrain

And fears no pain

The fury of the small

______________________________

Fabian Seacaster:

The bardic fighter

Sheet igniter

Hellish motorcycle rider

With dance and fire

He will reach higher

Fabian Seacaster

Born to pirate

Legacy and

Elvish smiths and fighters free

He made his way

From land to sea

And faced disaster

The warlocks slain

‘Twas only him

And erstwhile friend, Chungledown Bim

And on a whim

From battle grim

He fled and fell even faster

And from that moment

He was changed

His skill in elvish dance now trained

With sword and sheet

And crossbow ranged

Fabian Seacaster

1 Given the personal nature of these verses, there are a few deviations from how the song is typically sung for pirate heroes. While titles and epithets commonly feature in the Songs, this rendition features continual references to titles endowed upon the Bad Kids, formal or otherwise, save Seacaster's own verses. These include: the Elven Oracle [Adaine Abernant-O'Shaughnessy], the InFaethable [Figueroth Faeth], the Blessed Saint [Kristen Applebees], the Crab King [Gorgug Thistlespring], and The Ball [Riz Gukgak].

#dimension 20 #d20exchange2023 #songs of the Celestine #the bad kids #adaine abernant #kristen applebees #fig faeth #riz gukgak #gorgug thistlespring #fabian seacaster #fantasy high #fantasy high sophomore year

[quinn-borel]

A Familiar Face

“A ball?” Quinn asked quizzically over the breakfast table at Fortemps manor. 

“A ball? In these times?  I can hardly see how it is appropriate when the Dravanians are nearly at your doorstep.” Alphinaud mused to himself as he sat across from Quinn, barely touching his breakfast.  Lord Edmont de Fortemps sat at the head of the table, placing his knife and fork down as he looked towards the youngest Elezen at the table,

“Be that as it may, the lords of Ishgard aren’t one to forsake an excuse to hold a party.  This one will be smaller than the usual foray, but nevertheless, I was requested to bring Eorzea’s savior in tow, along with my sons.”

“Why me?” Quinn tilted her head a bit, “I’m not of nobility.  Sure, I’m your ward, but if anything, I’m just a runaway.  Wouldn’t Alphinaud be a better choice to attend?  He’s more…diplomatic.”

“This is probably a way for the Lords to put you under a microscope,” Alphinaud pointed out, “I’m sure despite the city being as closed as it is, word has traveled of your deeds.  Given how close you’ve been working with House Fortemps these last few weeks, I’d say you may have become a popular topic of gossip, I’m afraid.”

Quinn sighed, absolutely defeated by the truth that came from her fellow Scion.  Nothing sounded less appealing than getting dressed up and mocked and prodded all night by a load of stuffy nobles.  She looked to Edmont with pleading eyes, as if to say, ‘Please, don’t make me go, dad.’.  But to no avail, he closed his eyes and gently grasped his cup of coffee,

“It will be tomorrow evening, around sunset.  We will have a seamstress fit you with a proper gown as well–at our cost, of course.”

Quinn sank in her seat, the feeling of dread wafting over her.  She was never one for formal events, nay, she was an adventurer and heart and a bard by trade. She wasn’t meant to dance along with Ishgardian nobles, she was meant to sing and parade around tavern locals. 

“C’mon, Quinn, old girl, it won’t be that bad!” Emmanellain stated as he entered the breakfast nook with Honoroit behind him, “A night of food, wine, and dancing with some of the finest in all of Ishgard.  It will be a delightful event, for sure!”

He was a little too excited for the gala for Quinn’s taste, she sank further in her chair in response.  Alphinaud shrugged with a wry smile as he looked upon his friend with pity.  She would have to take the fall that evening while he continued his work at the manor.  Quinn stared blankly at the young Elezen across from her, irritated that he had no further objection to the idea.

“Who knows, maybe this will be good for you, Quinn.” Alphinaud finally broke the silence between them, smiling into his morning tea, “It may teach you some class.”

“Oh, haha, you’re so funny, Alphi.” Quinn extended her leg underneath the table and practically dug her toe into the young lad’s shin.  He yelped in response, almost dropping his teacup and saucer.  Despite everything that happened to him, there was still an air of cheekiness to him.  That, he hadn’t grown out of just yet.

——

The evening approached rather quickly, almost too quickly to Quinn’s dismay.  She arrived at the House Durendaire estate along with Edmont, Emmanellain, and Artoirel, adorned with the finest Ishgardian gown that matched the other ladies in attendance.  Truly, one could not distinguish her in the crowd—she looked as if she belonged within the circle of socialites.  Her only distinguishing feature was the grimace on her face as they walked about, obviously displeased to even be there in the first place.  The dress was uncomfortable, her bodice was tighter than she’d like, and the extra makeup on her visage felt caked-on and unbearable.  Artoirel had her on his arm, serving as her official ‘date’ for the gala, for every lady needed an escort of sorts. 

“At least try to act the part,” he muttered under his breath so that only she could hear him, “you’re already under scrutiny, after all.  Best you act like you want to be here.”

“Maybe if I had a drink…” Quinn eyed the refreshment table from afar, manned by a steward who seemed to be serving the finest ports.  While she was more partial to ale and hard liquor, wine would certainly do the trick in calming her nerves. 

“Just don’t go overboard.” He warned her as he allowed his arm to fall, allowing Quinn to float away from him and gravitate towards the table with glee.  At the very least, it got her to drop her sour expression.

As she approached the table, Quinn could overhear some faint whispers around her,

“….outsider.”

“….Fortemps ward…..outsider…”

“….oh, it’s her…..Eorzea’s ‘savior’….”

“…..drunkard…..harpy”

That last one stung a bit.  Sure, she got around, but outside of Ishgard only.  Not once had she bed anyone since her arrival in the city-state, and she barely visited the Forgotten Knight for a drink.  At least, that’s what she could remember…

One drink was followed by another as she strode around the gala, visiting the refreshment table every time her glass went dry.  It put her at ease, her body feeling warm with her cheeks and suddenly the whispers were so faint they barely bothered her. 

Let them talk.  I’m Quinn-fucking-Rin’ria, the savior of Eorzea.

She spun around a bit to the music as she came dangerously close to the dance floor.  A few patrons had to step aside in order to not be bumped into, yet, one guest in particular was not so lucky.  Quinn’s hand smacked the arm of one Ser Forlemort, who immediately whipped around and glared at the young woman,

“Bah, you again!” He coughed, “I thought I’d had enough of you and your party poking your nose around Ishgard, yet here you are in the city.  I can’t believe they let rabble like you in.”

Quinn glared back, yet a smirk was painted across her features, “Same goes to you, old man. They should have kept you locked in that observatorium where you belong to wither away.”

“How dare you, you drunken-” he stopped and his gaze went upwards, past Quinn as if there were someone behind him.  He gritted his teeth and turned away, muttering curses under his breath as he went back to his own party.  Quinn tensed up as she, too, felt a looming presence behind her—such a presence that seemed to startle the old man back to what he was doing.  She slowly turned to find a rather tall Elezen standing behind her, dark hair with piercing blue eyes and a warm smile with a look of bemusement on his face. 

“Are you always getting into trouble like this?” He asked.

“Ser Aymeric?” Quinn straightened up at the sight of the man no longer in his imposing golden armor, but rather relaxed in what she figured was the standard Ishgardian evening coat.  She shook her head a bit, trying to clear her mind so that she could talk to him without coming off as a drunken fool, “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“As the Lord Commander of the Temple Knights, I have a duty as a representative here at these formal events.  But that aside, I am more surprised to see you here.”

“Me? Well, I was encouraged to come here as a member of House Fortemps.” She explained, “Though I think I was invited here to be more of an entertainment piece than a guest…” Her gaze fell to the floor, and Aymeric looked awkwardly off to the side,

“I cannot deny that I have heard whispers of you here and there.  Though, I feel that now is a time where I can meet the proclaimed ‘Warrior of Light’ on a more personal level to expunge such rumors I’ve been hearing.”

“Truly?” Quinn looked to him rather curiously, “Well, those rumors are rather true. I’m just a bumbling outsider who drinks too much.  Aside from the whole ‘savior of Eorzea’ thing.”

Aymeric chuckled, offering his hand to her as the music changed, “If I may?”

She wouldn’t let his charm get to her, her trust in people already as fragile as ever.  Yet, something compelled her to take his offer, her slightly-shaky hand touching his palm.  Aymeric guided her to the dance floor,

“Do you dance?” He asked.

“Not particularly.  I mean, I used to when I was a young one.”

“It should be easy to catch on.  Just follow my lead.”

The pair made their way to the dance floor, Aymeric taking the lead in their waltz,

“…So, how much wine have you had this evening?”

“That’s,” she hiccupped softly, “none of your business, Ser Aymeric.  Is that what they teach fancy nobles to say to a lady during their first dance?”

“I consider us friends at this point,” he said with a warm smile, “I was just wondering if you were enjoying yourself, that’s all.”

“Oh, Gods,” she sighed, “between you and I, I’d rather be performing at the Forgotten Knight than dolled up and in this place.”

“Well, if it means anything to you, you clean up well.”

“You as well, Ser Aymeric.”

Quinn’s feet moved in unison with Aymeric’s, as if she were a well-seasoned dancer. Their movements flowed with ease, Aymeric being somewhat gentle with the way he held her hand and somewhat timid with the way his other hand sat at her hip.  Quinn expected a military leader to be a bit rougher with his movements, but something about Aymeric seemed more refined and gentlemanly.  He truly was treating her with care, and she noticed.

“So, question and answer time,” Quinn began, “you said you wanted to get to know me better?”

“Well, just by your movements alone I’ve gained quite a bit of insight.”

“Hmm,” she tilted her head, the alcohol really taking effect, “I guess then I can keep my mouth shut for the rest of this dance then?”

She looked at him with a smile.  Her smile.  The smile of a thousand suns, one would describe.  Aymeric’s grip tightened slightly on her hand, and his eyes glistened ever subtly. 

“You needn’t silence yourself.  In fact, I encourage you to tell me a little more about yourself.”

“What is there to tell that you haven’t already studied with your ‘borderline fascination’?” She mused, “I’m an adventurer, a member of the Scions, and a bard by trade.  I like to drink and dance and be merry.  Not much to tell you past that.”

“I see.” His gaze never left hers, and the two of them locked eyes as they went about another turn in the dance.

“Boring, right?”

“On the contrary.  I knew you had skill with a bow, but I wasn’t aware you were an entertainer.”

“You should stop by the inn some nights, if you’re not busy being…commander and all that…I’m sometimes there.”

“I may just have to.”

The beat of the music slowed down, just a tad, just enough to where the world itself seemed to stop at that very instant.  His piercing blue gaze felt as if it went right through her, as if he were studying her.  Yet, there was a tinge of red in his ear, something that Quinn failed to notice past his stare.

“Something wrong, Lord Commander?” Quinn asked, noticing that Aymeric suddenly went quiet.  He shook his head immediately, continuing to smile back at her with his charming expression. The music changed number, meaning that their dance had come to an end.  Aymeric gracefully released her, bowing slightly to thank her for the dance.

“I hope that we can see each other again soon, my friend.” He said, “It was a delight dancing with you.”

“You’re too formal,” Quinn teased, “I thought we were friends.”

“Ah, you’re right.” Aymeric straightened himself before looking to his left to see that Artoirel had approached them, “Lord Artoirel, it is a pleasure to see you.”

“Same to you, Ser Aymeric.” Artoirel gave him a slight bow, “I see you’ve had a chance to get more acquainted with Quinn here.”

“Please, we barely talked.” Quinn huffed,

“Well, perhaps we should choose a different venue next time.” Aymeric replied back, “One where you’re more comfortable.”

“I’ll take that offer.” Quinn shot back with a big grin, “Drinks on Ser Aymeric at the Forgotten Knight!”

Artoirel sighed, pressing his fingertips to his forehead, yet Aymeric patted his shoulder with a chuckle, “I tag out to you, friend.  Take care of her.”

“Hm?”

“You heard him, Artoirel,” Quinn snickered, “You are my escort, after all.”

“Yes, yes, please remind me.” He sighed, turning to her and offering his hand, “Shall we?”

“Another dance?”

“No, I’m taking you home.”

“Gods, yes, finally.” Quinn sighed, grabbing his arm and leaning against him, “I’m getting tired of this place.”

“Lower your voice, please.”

——

“Artoirel-”

“Keep quiet.”

She hummed against his lips before he allowed her tongue in his mouth.  Artoirel kept his grip firm on her hips, allowing her to continue to grind against him in such a seductive manner. 

“By the Fury-” he muttered as she parted from him, she placed her fingertips against his lips to silence him.  Quinn smirked behind her drunken daze, sitting back on his lap as she ran her hands down his well-toned frame. 

It all started with their arrival back at Fortemps manor, Edmont and Emmanellain had not yet arrived and Quinn, inebriated to hell and back, felt that her sudden feelings of longing needed to be satiated.  Artoirel had no such immunity to her own personal charms, and one thing lead to another.  The once-irritable and stoic lord now lay on his bed, shirtless, being straddled by the Warrior of Light. 

“What? Do you think your daddy’s gonna hear us?” She muttered with a smirk, her aching hands slowly gliding down his abdomen and towards his belt, “It was just a matter of time, my good ser.  He would be proud to know you’ve bedded Eorzea’s savior.”

Artoirel’s lips made a thin line, his hands doing most of the talking as his grip tightened on her hips.  Quinn snickered at his response, tapping a finger to his nose.  Yet, as she leaned over the world shifted slightly and her vision blurred.  Perhaps….it was too much wine.  Perhaps, trying to drink away your anxiety was not the best plan of action.  Nay, the Warrior of Light, with as little grace as possible, closed her eyes and flopped on the side of his bed.  Sound asleep.  Artoirel sat up from his daze, looking over the poor thing and gently patting her head,

“I’ll carry you off to your room then.  Get some rest, ‘Warrior of Light’.”

#Quinn Lore #Writing #Long post #ffxiv #Heavensward #Quinn Rin'ria #Long before her relationship with Aymeric #Artoirel is there too #Aymeric de borel #Quinn was a fucking mess before she got with Aymeric

[csmelody]

haunted

Welcome to my (mad) attempt at finishing all the prompts for Bart prompt week 2023. These will all be drabbles because I am married in all but proper paperwork to TLA. Also, I’ve never read or watched Lockwood & co. Please don’t spoil me, I’ll be forced to haunt you for life.

Read on AO3.

fandom: Bartimaeus Trilogy

rating: teen

pairing: bartnat if you squint

day 2 - day 3 - day 4 - day 5 - day 6 - day 7

Day 1 — haunted

Thorn Manor had long ceased to house mirrors.

The master and mistress of the ancient London home, motivated by a scare with scrying mirrors a few years back, had decided to take the drastic approach and save themselves the trouble in the future. Built for intimidating whoever dared to stand at the gate, the estate donned watchful gargoyles, black iron gates and fences two metres tall, trees with gnarly branches, unkempt bushes filled with blood-red roses clad in thorns.

So it was no surprise that rumours of a haunting presence began circulating soon after the scrying disaster.

At night, while master and mistress slept, a lone human figure could be seen strolling—nay, floating—from third to first floor before it again vanished from sight. Every night the same. Some claimed it had to be the ghost of a child, somehow forever trapped in this mysterious building. Others would swear it was too big to be a child—a young man seemed more likely. As the living occupants of the house were rather tall, or not the right species at all, they were quickly discounted.

Regardless of how often and however Mr and Mrs Thorn attempted to dispel the rumours, they had taken a life of their own. But neither believed them. And neither was bothered. Magicians attracted too much attention; it was a profession with high social demands. Having to entertain fewer guests was not much of a loss. And managing to survive in a haunted estate did wonders for their already healthy reputation.

On it went.

As the clock struck twelve, as the human residents dreamt, and as the hearth drew its last breaths, the cat jumped off its place on the windowsill. But paws never landed on the crimson carpet, only two bare golden feet, held by knobby knees and thin thighs. Two moles on the thin neck, two otherworldly amber eyes. A faded scar cutting beneath the chin. Dark hair fashioned in a style long forgotten. The boy padded across the room, a slim, bony hand turning the copper doorknob.

And the ritual began.

I moved through the long corridors of Thorn Manor, dim light casting long shadows. Varnished banisters and carpeted stairs awaited. Past windows I strolled, past dozens of dark oak doors left unopened for many a decade, ancient dust clinging stubbornly to every nook and cranny of the estate.

In the morning, the rumours would reignite. But the night was mine alone.

Thorn Manor had long ceased to house mirrors. Yet, a magician must always be prepared. Some creatures would only be defeated by a reflection. Others needed it to stay.

One room held them all, from the tallest, full-body piece to the tiniest hand mirror. Oval, rectangular, round, or square-shaped, with simple wooden framing, or the most intrinsically complex metalwork. The room vibrated with their biting coldness, hints of incense, rosemary and thyme still claiming this space as their own, where magic had once bled from every wall. But master and mistress seldom visited anymore. The summons could be done elsewhere.

I matched my footsteps to those on the floorboards, dust and cat hair delineating the day-old tracks. The lithe body was ideal for moving between mirrors, feline reflexes keeping me from touching any of them. In the centre, a circle. Or rather, a faded pentacle outlined by inward facing mirrors. And in all of them I saw him.

Pale skin, raven hair, thin body caged in a black suit so tight it would have asphyxiated a less stubborn man. The magician in the mirror adjusted his cuffs, blood-red lips set in a stern line, brow permanently vexed. Deep burn blue and a signal fire in his eyes. And a voice that had been silenced five decades prior.

“Hello, Bartimaeus.”

#bartprompts23 #bartimaeus trilogy #bartimaeus sequence #bartimaeus #nathaniel underwood #ptolemy #fanfiction #drabble

[jules-has-notes]

What's all this, then?

The short version: It's a side-blog about my latest hyperfixation, an incredible a cappella group called VoicePlay.

The long version: I have fallen — nay, flung myself — into the music and history of VoicePlay recently. I didn't just fall down a rabbit hole; I've been delving into the nooks and crannies of the whole freaking warren. And, as a result, I have extensive thoughts that need to go somewhere outside my own head.

Starting a YouTube channel or even a podcast would require equipment and skills I don't feel like acquiring, and I'm better at expressing myself in writing anyway, so that's what I'm gonna do. (Don't worry. There will be plenty of embedded videos and screenshots. I also like having pretty pictures to break up a wall of text and/or illustrate a point.)

My plan is to write an individual post for each music video the group has released, in more-or-less chronological order, interspersed with pieces on broader topics. (e.g.: The overly specific observations about staging on my main blog that inspired this whole project.) Additionally, I'm going to include some non-VoicePlay content that the guys and their enormously talented collaborators have worked on in various capacities — music arrangement, audio/video production, public appearances, theme park character performances, etc.

I hope you enjoy! —Jules

#blog meta #text post #Hello there.

[metabolicchief3]

idk a lil excerpt thing, ignore Tim

Rordus’ eyes met Tim’s and he nodded slowly. He straightened out and after a moment nodded again. A little more strength behind his motion. Taking a deep breath, he discarded his prior caution and took a step forward. So focused on ignoring his careless step, he didn’t notice his foot sink through the grass.

His body followed soon after. Tim cried from a place now distant despite the proximity. Rordus couldn’t make out the words, he couldn’t make out the shapes or the light or the place in which he sunk deeper. Darkness had swallowed him. It was encompassed all, consumed all light and all colour. Even his own once vibrant skin had now drained to a corpsely grey. His ears felt heavy, full and clogged of shadow and mirk. Turning his head was such a labour that he resigned to not move it the moment he tried. Reaching for his sword, his current hope was even harder. The oppression of the dark expanse stole the energy from his movements and seemed to coagulate around his body, stiffening it until it was too difficult to truly move. Breathing was the next thing that had gotten difficult.

Rordus had held his breath when he’d fallen into this umbral expanse, and now the pressure, the ever oppressive clenched fist around his body had made it harder to hold then ever. Despite it’s grip on him, his breath wanted to escape now more than ever before. Like it were being coaxed out, like worm when it was time to fish. He held it for as long as he could but his throat was already burning, his chest already aflame with pressure and pain. But he couldn’t open his mouth, couldn’t let this shadowed realm consume all that was within him as it was trying to do with his shape.

Something pulled at his pack, jerking his descent to a halt. He had been sinking faster than he’d thought, and now, his breath was being released. The sudden stop having knocked it out. His mouth stayed closed but his nose wasn’t enough. His lips burst apart and the moment they did, the ebon murk delved deep within. In moments it stole away to every nook and crack within him. It took root in his head and his lungs and filled his stomach in a way that left him starving and craving. He couldn’t tell if he were moving or still now, as he clawed at his own throat. Desperate to get whatever was suffocating him out of his body. But his fingers were slow, and arms even slower. Even as he cried his jaw was slow to move.

Then light broke, it exploded out from behind him, thought it went no further than perhaps a meter before him, he had no way of telling. The dark was all engrossing. But in that dark, he saw shimmers. Pearls glistening in the light, pairs all but hundreds, nay thousands. More than he nor any he knew could count in a month. They got closer, or perhaps he did but the light grew stronger. He saw now spikes of quartz appear beneath each set. Now more riches and treasure than he might ever count. Still the distance between Rordus and jewel grew shorter and shorter. Rordus felt warmth on his back and it cascade over his body like water in the rain. He realized how cold he had become in this realm and noticed he had stopped clawing to breathe, he had stopped trying to breathe.

The black was replaced by shadowed grass and he was pulled from the pit in which he’d fallen. His clothes seemed darker, or greyer now and heavy and wet. His skin a darker shade and his hair just the same. He fell onto his back and was quickly rolled onto his side. Tim kneeled over him as he vomited out a strange darkness. A curious water that held the same colour as shadow and seemed just as translucent. It hurt his eyes to see so he closed them, but not before he saw what the jewels truly were. The maws of hundreds of Shadow Cats pierced the veil of grass and snapped shut at his heels, missing their prey by nary in inch.

#bookblr #booklr #writing #fantasy #original fiction

[ammg-old2]

When I decided to propose to the woman who is now my wife, I gave a lot of thought to how I was going to do it. But I didn't think much about what I was going to do it with. Not only did a diamond ring seem the logical—nay, the inevitable—choice, but I had just the very diamond. My grandfather had scrounged up enough money to buy a diamond ring for my grandmother in the early 1950s, and the stone had passed to me when he passed away. I reset the diamond in a more modern band, got the ring appraised, and slipped it on my fiancée's finger.

It was a beautiful moment—a gesture of love and commitment spanning generations. And it was also exactly what De Beers Consolidated Mines, Ltd. wanted. I was a century-old marketing campaign, actualized. And I'm far from alone; three-quarters of American brides wear a diamond engagement ring, which now costs an average of $4,000.

Every so often, an article comes along that makes you thoroughly rethink a rote practice. Edward Jay Epstein's "Have You Ever Tried to Sell a Diamond?" was one of them. In his 1982 Atlantic story, the investigative journalist deconstructed what he termed the "diamond invention"—the "creation of the idea that diamonds are rare and valuable, and are essential signs of esteem."

That invention is surprisingly recent: Epstein traces its origins to the discovery of massive diamond mines in South Africa in the late 19th century, which for the first time flooded world markets with diamonds. The British businessmen operating the South African mines recognized that only by maintaining the fiction that diamonds were scarce and inherently valuable could they protect their investments and buoy diamond prices. They did so by launching a South Africa–based cartel, De Beers Consolidated Mines, Ltd. (now De Beers), in 1888, and meticulously extending the company's control over all facets of the diamond trade in the ensuing decades.

Most remarkably, De Beers manipulated not just supply but demand. In 1938, amid the ravages of the Depression and the rumblings of war, Harry Oppenheimer, the De Beers founder's son, recruited the New York–based ad agency N.W. Ayer to burnish the image of diamonds in the United States, where the practice of giving diamond engagement rings had been unevenly gaining traction for years, but where the diamonds sold were increasingly small and low-quality.

Meanwhile, the price of diamonds was falling around the world. The folks at Ayer set out to persuade young men that diamonds (and only diamonds) were synonymous with romance, and that the measure of a man's love (and even his personal and professional success) was directly proportional to the size and quality of the diamond he purchased. Young women, in turn, had to be convinced that courtship concluded, invariably, in a diamond.

Ayer insinuated these messages into the nooks and crannies of popular culture. It marketed an idea, not a diamond or brand:

Movie idols, the paragons of romance for the mass audience, would be given diamonds to use as their symbols of indestructible love. In addition, the agency suggested offering stories and society photographs to selected magazines and newspapers which would reinforce the link between diamonds and romance. Stories would stress the size of diamonds that celebrities presented to their loved ones, and photographs would conspicuously show the glittering stone on the hand of a well-known woman. Fashion designers would talk on radio programs about the "trend towards diamonds" that Ayer planned to start. ...

In its 1947 strategy plan, the advertising agency ... outlined a subtle program that included arranging for lecturers to visit high schools across the country. "All of these lectures revolve around the diamond engagement ring, and are reaching thousands of girls in their assemblies, classes and informal meetings in our leading educational institutions," the agency explained in a memorandum to De Beers. The agency had organized, in 1946, a weekly service called "Hollywood Personalities," which provided 125 leading newspapers with descriptions of the diamonds worn by movie stars. ... In 1947, the agency commissioned a series of portraits of "engaged socialites." The idea was to create prestigious "role models" for the poorer middle-class wage-earners. The advertising agency explained, in its 1948 strategy paper, "We spread the word of diamonds worn by stars of screen and stage, by wives and daughters of political leaders, by any woman who can make the grocer's wife and the mechanic's sweetheart say 'I wish I had what she has.'"

In the late 1940s, just before my grandfather started hunting for his diamond ring, an Ayer copywriter conceived of the slogan that De Beers has used ever since: "A Diamond Is Forever." "Even though diamonds can in fact be shattered, chipped, discolored, or incinerated to ash, the concept of eternity perfectly captured the magical qualities that the advertising agency wanted to attribute to diamonds," Epstein writes. A diamond that's forever promises endless romance and companionship. But a forever diamond is also one that's not resold. Resold diamonds (and it's maddeningly hard to resell them, as Epstein's article details) cause fluctuations in diamond prices, which undermine public confidence in the intrinsic value of diamonds. Diamonds that are stowed away in safe-deposit boxes, or bequeathed to grandchildren, don't.

#history #economics #capitalism #commerce #trade #advertising #sociology #psychology #marriage #romance #jewellery #mining #usa #de beers #diamonds

[rhulks-legs]

Cayde slinks around the Pyramid, doing his very best to avoid being spotted, however there doesn't seem to be many people around to spot him in the first place. This is really all for one guy? Pretentious much?

Though...there are a whole lot of great nooks for napping. And for storing loot. Cayde wouldn't find himself complaining if he got to own a giant, fuck-off pyramid.

He hears steps - large steps - and freezes, glancing up towards the figure approaching him, a being that he doesn't recognise in any way, someone that looks even bigger than an Eliksni Kell. Uh oh.

"...Uh. Hi. So. What's up?" Smooth.

Rhulk had wanted a normal day. He thought, nay, hoped, that this was Scout coming to annoy him again when he smelled Exo Hunter. No, this was much worse. When Cayde spoke, he hissed something in Lubrase and recoiled.

"Final Shape, it really is you-!"

He pointed back towards where Cayde came from, his eyes widening dangerously.

"Get. Out. Now."

#rhulk // devotion incarnate #threads of light // what small heroes the light has

[james-smith07]

The Ultimate Review of Lux Player Subscription: Renewal Advice Included

Stepping into the world of Lux Player is like entering a vast library of stories, each waiting to unfold its magic. In this comprehensive review, we’ll explore every nook and cranny of the Lux Player subscription, offering you the insights needed to decide whether to renew this journey of cinematic discovery.

Unveiling Lux Player

Lux Player is more than a streaming platform; it's a gateway to a world of entertainment, offering a mosaic of stories and experiences.

The Essence of Lux Player’s Subscription

With a Lux Player subscription, you’re not just buying access; you’re investing in a journey of diverse narratives and visual storytelling.

Content Library: A Treasure Trove

Explore the depths of Lux Player's content library, where each title is a gem waiting to be discovered.

Navigating the User Interface

The user interface of Lux Player should be your compass in the vast sea of content, guiding you to your next favorite show or movie.

Analyzing Subscription Costs and Benefits

Is the price of admission to the Lux Player world justified? Let’s weigh the costs against the myriad benefits.

Streaming Quality and Performance

The streaming quality of Lux Player needs to be top-notch, ensuring every scene is as crisp as a fresh page in a new book.

Customer Support: Your Guide Through Lux Player

In the journey through Lux Player, customer support acts as your trusty guide, ready to assist whenever you encounter a crossroads.

Lux Player vs. The Rest: A Comparative Analysis

How does Lux Player stand in the arena of streaming services? We’ll put it to the test against its competitors.

Pros and Cons of Renewing Your Subscription

Let's weigh the pros and cons, helping you decide if renewing your lux player subscription review is like renewing vows in a cherished relationship.

Real User Reviews and Community Insights

Hearing from the Lux Player community can be like listening to the tales of seasoned travelers, offering valuable perspectives on the journey.

Renewal Process: A Step-by-Step Guide

Renewing your Lux Player subscription should be as seamless as turning the page to the next chapter of your favorite book.

Maximizing Your Lux Player Experience

Unlock the full potential of your Lux Player experience with tips and tricks that enhance your streaming journey.

Looking Ahead: What’s New in Lux Player

Anticipating the future of Lux Player can be as exciting as awaiting the next installment in a beloved series.

Renewal Decision: Yay or Nay?

Making the renewal decision is a pivotal moment in your Lux Player journey, akin to choosing the path in a choose-your-own-adventure story.

Final Verdict: Is Lux Player Worth Your Time?

In concluding our exploration of Lux Player, we’ll gather our findings to determine if it remains the champion in your quest for premium entertainment.

Through the lens of this ultimate review, we’ve ventured deep into the heart of Lux Player, examining its every aspect to equip you with the knowledge needed for an informed renewal decision. Just as every story needs its audience, Lux Player seeks to be the backdrop for your cinematic adventures. Will it continue to be your chosen platform, or is it time to close this chapter and seek new narratives elsewhere? Let’s make that decision with clarity and confidence

[lsttcs]

manifesto i wrote a couple months ago

Slow down the sacred branch of the totem too fast. There’s extra yearning in the young, despicable to a tumble weed. Extra time, bleed it out upon the sun. And so the moon, up high. 

Like wardrobe pocked and exploded, strewing flying crevices. Displaced nooks. It’s wild return aura, every fastened ten design, all of this, as it’s so much deserve, splayed over men. 

To trim down a smooth up what referendums a Jello. So steam and ledge fastner timed by its awnings, themed by its close and parcel Jupiter packages. And be at rest, those unaligned, tour time, vacation time, time to make and build what’s procured by men. Of any kinds of stations. 

Connected by the rolling school. As plat and folding in partridge seams. Breathable as steam. The climate hugs you dear and by designing anarchist infomarqueters, you’re trained to spring any product, no less, limbed other developments heaving, any product you could rear. 

Ship and transit, pieces, gifts.  And a dumb building bellow plank to transpire on, one, plus always allows you to switch. As nominal as the nay sign. As radical as proper breakfast and any real meal or soothing, taped and glued, taped and glued, as for such with locks and with logs. 

As being one, the system being, of its rolled prop, and its pulverize squelch, that bud and robust, that we love to devour. Reared by the poised ,  control by long stretching and fast acting data controversies, that full replica noise. Binging on finder. Made cuz there’s squat. Made carefully, up up. Made more, so through poise and through dust. Connect comm earth animal and its other transcendental strifles. Boarding time is thus stated, “making ready” and blowing, that did sold and simulate, door buff. 

#manifesto #poem #poetry #prose #nj poetry #njprose

[moonaturie]

1. With a blush gently painting my cheeks like rosy petals in bloom, it becomes evident that my cherished cheeks possess a unique charm that I proudly wield as my power! As a token of affection, I present to you a delightful explosion of adorableness, encapsulating the essence of my cutie cheeks, gifted with utmost delight and affection! Let it be a reminder of the simple pleasures in life, a delightful memento of the beauty that exists in embracing one's adorable quirks. As you hold this gift close to your heart, may it ignite a spark of happiness and bring a smile to your face, just as the mere thought of my beloved cheeks brings a joyous twinkle to my eyes. As you cherish this token, know that it symbolizes not just my cheeks' charm, but also the warmth of our delightful friendship. For in this whimsical exchange, we share a tender love, where laughter and glee intertwine, creating a melody of memories painted in the brightest hues of friendship and affection.

2. I must joyfully admit to basking in the pure exhilaration of recent times! Oh, the irresistible allure of this captivating platform has ensnared my soul, but fear not, for it is not merely a whimsical fancy that impels me so! Nay, it is an endearing longing for your cherished presence that propels me to traverse the hallowed halls of this virtual paradise with heightened enthusiasm. An inquiry springs forth, like a blooming blossom seeking the sun's tender caress: does this precious moment possess the ethereal essence that merits an exalted place in your illustrious Instagram gallery? For it is with utmost eagerness and hopeful anticipation that I extend this cherished offering to you, in the fervent hope that it shall find a cherished nook within the vast melody of your heart, bringing forth smiles, laughter, and an iridescent glow that lights up the pixels of our realm of imagination!

3. As the celestial curtain of slumber gently descends upon my weary form, I find myself irresistibly compelled to bestow upon you a heartwarming gift, a collection of delightful selfies, meticulously curated to alter your night with a dreamlike aura of unparalleled enchantment! As the gentle touch of slumber embraces me, I envision you cradled in the comforting embrace of dreams, and it is my ardent wish that these selfies shall weave themselves into the very fabric of your subconscious world. May they serve as gentle whispers of happiness, guiding you through the labyrinth of slumber with a heart aglow in warmth and tender affection. As the night unfolds its mysteries, know that you are not alone, for the spirit of camaraderie transcends the boundaries of time and space, forever intertwining our hearts in a dance of everlasting friendship.

4. Should your adventurous spirit guide you to the sun-kissed land of Spain, pray indulge in the delightful flavors of paella, an exquisite culinary that weaves together the essence of the Mediterranean with every tantalizing saffron-infused grain of rice. And upon your joyous return from this epicurean escapade, a whimsical journey unrolls! As the shutter clicks to capture the essence of this jelly's cuteness, it echoes the laughter and friendship that has graced our journeys, forever etching them in the cherished annals of our cherished friendship. As the winds of wanderlust guide you, my dear DIVE, and as you delight in the flavors of paella, allow your heart to be filled with the anticipation of our reunion, where we shall relish the joys of life together once more, one jelly at a time, basking in the glow of heartfelt camaraderie and the enduring magic of our friendship.

5. While one might certainly laud the scenic vista before them, adorned with alluring beauty and picturesque allure, let it be known that the true protagonist, the star of this captivating scenery, is none other than yours truly! Within the frame of this gleaming landscape, elegantly garbed in a ravishing black dress. With an air of enchantment and a twinkle of charm, I meander through this urban melody, leaving behind trails of my ever-blossoming romance with the city. The cobblestone pathways become a dance floor where I waltz through history, and the city lights shimmer like stars, casting a celestial glow on the chapters of my tale. I’m the epitome of love and admiration, entwined with the city's soul. With each beat of my heart, I declare, "I am the main character of this charming tale, and my affection for this city is as boundless as the ocean and as eternal as the stars above!"

6. With a sprinkle of fairy dust and a dash of magic, I dance through this harmony, leaving behind a trail of love notes written on the cobblestone pathways. Oh, how each stone becomes an enchanted letter of affection, etched with whispers of cherished memories and heartfelt emotions that tug at the heartstrings. A veritable ode to love, it stands as a testament to the adoration I hold for every quaint nook and charming cranny this city has to offer, for in every step, I weave a harmonious melody of dreams and aspirations that soar to heights higher than the tallest towers that adorn the skyline. And as the city lights sparkle like a celestial constellation, I become a part of this metropolis's story, forever etching my essence into its very fabric. It is a symphony of belonging, where the city and I become entwined like vines of affection, creating a harmony that echoes through the love of time.

7. May these images serve as love letters etched in digital pixels, for through them, I profess my fondness with an ardent fervor that knows no bounds. With every glance upon these snapshots, may your heart be caressed by the gentle touch of affection, and may you find comfort in knowing that you are treasured beyond measure. With each selfie, I send a secret message of "Mi amor!" that only your heart can truly understand. They're like tiny love notes wrapped in digital hugs, waiting to warm your soul and bring a smile to your face, just as your love does for me every day. As you gaze upon these snapshots of love, may they paint your heart with colors so vibrant and emotions so tender. Let them be like the softest of kisses, leaving a trail of sweetness that lingers in the air, embracing you with all the warmth and love my heart can muster!

8. With the arrival of the sun-kissed season of summer, I find myself compelled to share a delightful tidbit of wisdom with you, my dear friend - the indispensable nature of sunscreen when venturing into the great outdoors! As the warm embrace of summer envelops us, I come bearing not just a friendly reminder but a visual treat to enthrall your senses, a series of snapshots that capture the essence of my summer escapades, all while sporting a ravishing hue of pink that mirrors the vibrant spirit of the season! As the sunflowers sway in the summer breeze, their faces upturned toward the sun, I too turn my attention to the sky, but with a touch of mindfulness. For amidst the glee and laughter that summer brings, it is essential to cherish our skin's well-being and preserve its natural radiance by using sunscreen as our loyal guardian.