#sorry about the delay

[fuck-yeah-intro-movies]

Tales of Zestiria (2015)

#intro movie #opening movie #ps4 #steam #tales of series #tales of zestiria #zestiria #gonna try to work on unfulfilled requests #sorry about the delay #thank you for following

[capriciouswriter207]

The Curse of Deepfrost

Chapter 8: Ship ashore

When Pearl and Etho climb aboard a stranded ship, they make some peculiar friends.

Summary

The kingdom has fallen, its population decimated. The outskirts are already caught in the maelstrom of ice and snow, and it moves in on the capital. A few pockets of civilization in and around the citadel have survived thus far, but food supplies and hope are dwindling as the wind picks up and blasts ice in their hearts.

The only thing that can chase away the cold is hidden deep below the earth. In the deepest dungeons of the citadel, a spell is rumored to be located, strong enough to dispel the winter. Yet all who entered through the doors have never returned.

With little left to lose - and with the encouragement of the survivors under her wing - a young woman named Pearl steps through the doors to help her people and put an end to the eternal winter.

#hermitcraft s9 #decked out 2 #pearlescentmoon #ethoslab #sorry about the delay #had to fix some minor things #mostly miscalculated how much i could fit into one chapter so this one has to be split in two #as well as some irl stuff #but it's all good now so here you go #anyway this was fun to write #capricious writings

[steadypet101]

15 days left till Hazbin Hotel

#quick note #hazbin hotel #prime video #hazbin hotel season 1 #countdown #sorry about the delay #steadyspeaks

[pinescone-headcanons]

Wirt got plagerized by James Somerton and feels weirdly vindicated about it.

#don’t know who that is sorry #pinescone #thanks for the headcanon! #oversensitiveandoffputting #mod danger #sorry about the delay

[juliatulia]

I didn't pay attention to the Housman bit on Autobiography, so I would love to hear your thoughts on that :)

Sorry for the late reply but here it is.

The * followed by parenthesis are my thoughts, the rest is directly from Morrisseys Autobiography.

Excerpt from Autobiography:

and, wrongly, unnecessarily, this child weeps, full of the foolish

embarrassment that his father has clearly marked out. New air is discovered

in the words of A. E. Housman (1859–1936), scholar-poet, vulnerable and

complex. On the day of his twelfth birthday his mother dropped dead,

sealing a private future of suffering for Housman, who was said to be a

complete mystery even to those who knew him. *(Whom are we talking about??) With no interest in

applause or public recognition, Housman published three volumes of

poetry, each one of great successful caress, each a world in itself, forcing

Housman into the highest literary ranks. A stern custodian of art and life, he

shunned the world and he lived a solitary existence of monastic pain,

unconnected to others. *(Again, whom?) The unresolved heart worked against him in life, but

it connected him to the world of poetry, where he allowed (in)complete

strangers under his skin. *(One know others by how one knows oneself) In younger years he had suffered from the

unrequited love of Moses Jackson, the pain of which was so severe that it

doomed Housman for the rest of time. *(Swap the names and it could be Steven Patrick talking about himself) All of his work would be governed

by this loss, as if life could only ever offer one chance of happiness (and

perhaps, for every shade and persuasion, it does?):

*(So, Morrissey introduces Housman as someone who has unhappiness thrust upon him (but he could also have been a moody melancholic from birth, who knows?). Life delt him bad cards, but used the unhappiness to create art that others found comforting. He clearly identifies with him. And the last part of the paragraph….. Words fail me. )

When the bells justle in the tower

The hollow night amid,

Then on my tongue the taste is sour

Of all I ever did

Housman suffered throughout his life, and therefore (and not surprisingly)

his life became an unyielding attempt not to cooperate. The black horizon

never shifted, and his emotional lot never mellowed.

*(Moses Jackson was very aware of Housmans feelings for him. If I remeber correctly when Moses married his wife, they didnt tell Alfred Edward until after the event (They also left the country). Jackson knew it would crush Housman. )

He would not stay for me; and who can wonder?

He would not stay for me to stand and gaze.

I shook his hand and tore my heart in sunder

and went with half my life about my ways.

At his Wildean lowest, Oscar’s personal sadness had never slumped to such

leaden fatigue; Housman suffered and accepted, death always close in his

mind’s eye – but not regrettably so.

I did not lose my heart in summer’s even,

When roses to the moonrise burst apart:

When plumes were under heel and lead was flying,

In blood and smoke and flame I lost my heart.

I lost it to a soldier and a foeman,

A chap that did not kill me, but he tried;

That took the sabre straight and took it striking

And laughed and kissed his hand to me and died.

The published poetry makes the personal torture just barely acceptable. The

pain done to Housman allowed him to rise above the mediocre and to find

the words that most of us need help in order to say. The price paid by

Housman was a life alone; the righteous rhymer enduring each year unloved

and unable to love:

Shake hands, we shall never be friends, all’s over:

I only vex you the more I try.

All’s wrong that ever I’ve done and said,

And nought to help it in this dull head:

Shake hands, here’s luck, goodbye.

But if you come to a road where danger

Or guilt or shame’s to share,

Be good to the lad that loves you true

And the soul that was born to die for you

And whistle and I’ll be there.

*(The poem is so true to the Morrissey folio. A strong friendship/connection/relationship is no longer what it once was and distance is imminent between the object and the subject. But should anything happen, "danger or guilt or shame to share" you know I will be there for you. )

It’s easy for me to imagine Housman sitting in a favorite chair by a barely

flickering gas fire, the brain grinding long and hard, wanting to explain

things in his own way, monumental loneliness on top of him, but with no

one to tell. The written word is an attempt at completeness when there is no

one impatiently awaiting you in a dimly lit bedroom – awaiting your tales

of the day, as the healing hands of someone who knew turn to you and touch

you, and you lose yourself so completely in another that you are

momentarily delivered from yourself. Whispering across the pillow comes a

kind voice that might tell you how to get out of certain difficulties, from

someone who might mercifully detach you from your complications. When

there is no matching of lives, and we live on a strict diet of the self, the

most intimate bond can be with the words that we write:

*(Here author and subject almost merge into one. Drawing the line where subject and author meets is almost impossible. I become you and you become me. When there is no one to whom one can bestow all ones affection on, the page becomes the active listener. )

Oh often have I washed and dressed

And what’s to show for all my pain?

Let me lie abed and rest:

Ten thousand times I’ve done my best

And all’s to do again.

I ask myself if there is an irresponsible aspect in relaying thoughts of pain

as inspiration, and I wonder whether Housman actually infected the

sensitives further, and pulled them back into additional darkness. Surely it

is true that everything in the imagination seems worse than it actually is –

especially when one is alone and horizontal (in bed, as in the coffin).

Housman was always alone – thinking himself to death, with no matronly

wife to signal to the watching world that Alfred Edward was now quite

alright – for isn’t this at least partly the aim of scoring a partner: to trumpet

the mental all-clear to a world where how things seem is far more important

than how things are? Now snugly in eternity, Housman still occupies my

mind. His best moments were in Art, and not in the cut and thrust of human

relationships. Yet he said more about human relationships than those who

managed to feast on them. You see, you can’t have it both ways.

*(We have to wonder why Morrissey included this in the book at all. When most authors writes their autobiography, they chronologically write about what happened to them, who they saw, or write about details about their life in descriptive detail (which in my opinion is quite dull and very little engaging as a reader). But Morrissey deviates from this enormously. He includes pieces of what made him the way he is(!). Why would he include long pieces about Melanie Safka, Buffy Sainte-Marie or W. H. Auden? Not interesting in itself to read about someone some person read a long time ago, but all these pieces gives us hints of who Steven Patrick Morrissey is.

The interesting part about including A. E Housman is how much Morrissey writes about his life, not just the poetry. I think this is the key to understanding the excerpt above. He both admire and recognise how life and art blend together and how they affect each other.

About Housmans later life, Moses Jackson died before him. Jackson suffered from cancer I think and knew he was going to die. Housman later wrote in a letter to a friend where he said: "I could not leave him behind in a world where anything might happen to him". He was a wealthy man from his academic work and became a patron of Jacksons son. He paid for his education when he didn't have to, but probably felt an obligation.

Why do we have such a lengthy part in the book about an unhappy man who lived all his life inlove with a man he fell in love with in his youth???

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ You tell me 🤓🤓

)

#here it finally is #sorry about the delay #tumblr doesnt work on desktop for me. had to type this for hand 🙁 #thank you for whomever sent me the ask ive been meaning to write something about this for such a long time #fave moment in autobiography especially when you listen to the audiobook version #david morrissey understood the task ❤ #please let me know what you think #morrissey #johnny marr #autobiography

[batghostgirlfan]

Poll result: Starscream is now an Elf

Next up: Blackaracnia

#starscream #tfa starscream #tfa #macadam #maccadam #transformers animated #transformers #voting poll #poll results #dnd #sorry about the delay

[rmd-writes]

28 for Tarlos? 💞

28. Forehead touches or nose nudging or any soft variation on the theme

There’s a fizzing under TK’s skin that’s making him feel like he might burst out of it. Not in a bad way; it’s the buzz of anticipation, of something new, something good.

He has to remind himself to breathe as Carlos moves infestimally closer, the palm of his hand warm and large against the side of his face, Carlos’ fingers curling around the back of his neck.

TK looks at Carlos’ lips, pink and perfectly formed and plush then back up to his eyes, so dark and beautiful, framed by thick lashes. Eyes that look so fondly at TK that it makes his stomach swoop. He licks his own lips and catches the way Carlos’ eyes dip down to track the movement.

Carlos leans in and rests their foreheads together, his eyes closed. “Hi,” he murmurs before taking a breath, as if he wants to savour the moment.

“Hey.” TK nudges his nose against Carlos’ nose.

He’s so desperate to kiss Carlos, he loves kissing Carlos, but he doesn’t want to break the magical spell that seems to have settled around them, slowing time down and narrowing all the wonders of the universe to this moment, to just the two of them, sharing breaths.

They’ve shared a lot of kisses, since that first time. Desperate kisses, hard and claiming and full of passion and lust and want; the occasional chaste kiss goodbye. But nothing like this.

Carlos’ lips sliding against his are pressing gently against his own, slowly coaxing him to open his mouth with the delicate swipe of his tongue against the seam. TK opens to him, like flower petals unfurling and reaching for sunshine. He wasn’t ready for this, for the way that Carlos’ lips would feel against his own, the way Carlos would melt into him, when kissing wasn’t just a stop on the way to more.

This kiss though, this kiss is the entire journey. This kiss says I like you and I want to be with you and maybe even, you make me happy. This kiss makes TK’s heart feel three sizes too big for his chest and that terrifies him because how can he possibly have this, with someone like Carlos?

He pushes the questions away and lets Carlos kiss him and kiss him and kiss him until his lungs ache for air and his lips are numb and when they break apart TK can’t help but smile.

“Hi.”

send me a soft prompt and a pairing and I’ll (eventually) write a snippet

#sorry about the delay #I’m getting to these slowly!! #rmd writes #tarlos #tarlos fic #soft prompts #rmd writes: ls snippet

[thequeenofthewinter]

Not Fic Friday

It's me. It's a posting Friday, but unfortunately life has been particularly chaotic over these last two weeks, and I won't be able to post as I normally do today. I'll be posting next Friday instead.

Curious about what I'm writing? Dropping some links. ;)

Part 1: In the Midst of Winter

Part 2: An Invincible Summer

Have an extra snippet as an apology:

In plain mid-Winter the frozen tundras of Skyrim are nothing but dead and grey shadows of future begotten seasons—the ghost of what once was or what will be. It is hard for anyone to believe in such stark conditions that there ever was a season where tender shoots of leaves pushed forth from the forests and blades of grass whispered in the wind. No matter which way Ralof turns, the monotoned landscapes are a wasteland laid bare as they stretch out before him as far as his eyes can see. He is no stranger to the abandoned landscapes this time of year brings as he crawls through brambles of brittle undergrowth which snap crisply beneath his feat. However, with two weeks on the road, what he wouldn’t do to see the lush forests of Riverwood in full bloom or even the jeweled greens of the great evergreen forests of Eastmarch. He is starved for color, drained of anything which would give some semblance that this blur of flat delirium will cease any time soon. When he was asked to act as an emissary for the High King and Queen, he was honored to take the job. He still is, but travel has been slow going as he trudges through the snow and slush of the backroads in Skyrim, and he had hoped to be at the border almost a week ago. Picking up his head to cast another futile look across the sleeping forests of southern Falkreath, only the barest glimmer of promise is in sight as he observes the ever-looming Jerall mountain pass getting closer. Sentinel seems so far away and nearly impossible to reach. He sighs, letting out a puff of more frosty air to add to the already expanse of too many shades white before him.

At least when he crosses through Halldir’s Carin over the border, he will be able to take a horse to make things easier on him. As a precautionary measure, he has decided to go on foot until reaching Hammerfell. There have been reports of the scattered remnants of Imperial military camps attacking anyone getting too close to Cyrodiil. Once he reaches Elinhir, it should only be another week until he reaches Hammerfell’s capital. With every step he takes, the significance of the letter he carries weighs heavier and heavier upon him. Ralof chews on his lip as he thinks about its contents—the hope that is placed solely into his hands. He has not felt so important since he was promoted to officer months ago during the heat of in the Civil War. Back then, lives depended on him as they trusted him to command and see their way through to the end. While it is only a single piece of parchment, he still feels the gravity of it just as acutely. It is not just a small contingent of lives which are at stake now but rather all of Skyrim. He can feel their bodies piling up on his shoulders and pressing him into the slushy mud of the path he currently walks. What if he should fail and come back empty-handed?

#skyrim #skyrim fanfiction #ulfric stormcloak #dahlia wintersnow #ralof of riverwood #winter writes #sorry about the delay

[ahiijny]

Hi @gameraramen, I'm your @touhousecretsanta this year! I drew Mokou and Keine together, I hope you like it!!

Wishing you a happy new year!

#touhou #touhousecretsanta #gameraramen #mokokeine #fujiwara no mokou #kamishirasawa keine #my art #sorry about the delay #i wanted to have this finished sooner >_<;; #happy new year!

[danyaselmar]

Danya’s Winter Art Raffle ❄️ 2023 - winner announcement

And the winner is:

🌟@valka-arialitan

Congratulations!!! Please send me a dm so we can discuss the details. I'm very excited to hear what you have in mind!

A big thank you to everyone who participated and interacted with my post!!! I appreciated all of your kind words in the tags🥰💕

#sorry about the delay #danyaselmar #danyas drawings

[randommirandyfics]

hi! I'm looking for a fic where Miranda and Andy are working together (on Miranda's book I think). They kiss and Andy runs out and leaves her phone behind. Miranda returns it to her office and drops it on her desk. I think Miranda also attends a party for one of Andy's friends and everyone is surprised she actually came. Thanks!

(• _ • ?)

#mirandy #name that fic #mark-viii-xxxvi #sorry about the delay #i'd say i got distracted but that's not a strong enough term #anybody out there want to help me with this blog #i wanna keep it going and updated but it's a bit much for me along right now #you would need to know some HTML and how to work tumblr's custom pages #but everything else would just be on a txt file shared via dropbox

[antidotesprout]

I fuckin lived. I made it through hell weekend.

Please clap.

#sprout chat #i will be responding to things shortly #sorry about the delay #fuck im tired #about to be back to our regularly scheduled program

[kirin943]

posting a picture of luz every day until season 3: day 5

#well the schedule system apparently failed me #sorry about the delay #back to queueing #cries #toh #the owl house #luz noceda #daily luz

[fictionaladoptionpolls]

Well, that's the first part of round 1 done.

Those of you who have been following this blog attentively have probably noticed that I haven't been posting the second set of profiles as quickly as the first set. I apologize for this; a bunch of little things have made it hard to write (and usually research) multiple profiles per day. Hopefully I'll be able to pick up the pace soon and start the second set of polls early in July. I apologize for the delay.

Speaking of my consistent failure to account for the size of this bracket when planning it: The odds of a perfect tie in a Tumblr poll is relatively low, assuming decent participation, and the odds of a tie that changes the outcome is even lower in a poll with four or five options. But low is not zero, and something unlikely can become likely if you run the same trial several times.

What I'm getting at is that Asuka and Diona tied, and I don't have a plan for handling it. In the spirit of Tumblr poll tournaments, I've decided I should put that policy up to a vote.

#update #poll #asuka soryu langley #diona #sorry about the delay

[writingwife-83]

Ok listen. I didn’t realize until I checked today that it’s been more than 4 months since I updated Look at Me. 🫣 I’m writing ch 13 as we speak though, so at least I can say there’s progress now!

#ww83 writes #sorry about the delay #it’s been a lot the past few months #reylo #fic: look at me #medieval au

[the-better-wizard-council]

@mechanical-hands

#sorry about the delay #council decisions